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written-beyond-the-grave · 4 years ago

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Mikaelsons Black History Month

First off, I’m starting by saying that even though it is no longer Black history month it will always be melanin everyday and black people every day. And everything else under the sun, and if you don’t like it then the exit is to your left. Everything you own in the box to the left

Being part of the Mikaelsons is very fickle business and be some bs. Like really, you’re here with supernatural beings who are over 1000 years old. Who have traveled the world, gained endless knowledge, seen a lot of bloodshed, but you know what they haven’t seen? Their token human (black ofc) being ignant for black history month, I mean who even fully celebrates? How does one even celebrate?

Granted, they’re not racist. But with the writing Julie Pleck did she was playing honestly. That was the worst writing I've ever seen since who knows when. Maybe the nine lives of Chloe king or something? But in my originals universe they were probably racist in the beginning to an extent then grew out of it.

Anyways, they never met someone who celebrated until they met you!

Now repeat after me: I’m black y’all, and I’m black y’all. And I’m black and black and black y’all! FYM

Now…. picture this: A moderately quiet day in the Mikaelson household. Kol is minding his business for once, Rebekah is trying to find the perfect pics for her next instagram post, Elijah is enjoying a good read, and Klaus is organizing his art materials. But then here comes you, the human, opening the door and walking right in like you pay bills (none of them do but you get the picture) in the midst of the most deadly people. Walking in and greeting everyone, walking in with the most hotep, Dr. Umar bullshit getup they ever seen. Coming to America headass.

They recognize your footsteps from a mile away, so when you walk into the kitchen and no one really looks up at first it’ll be a sight to see a whole ass pelted lion on your back. The kente cloth hat (no idea the actual name for it, sorry babes), a saber tooth necklace (for my mans T��Challa), and the red stiletto nails with the afro out here banging.

SHEEEEEEEEESH

Once Elijah is done with his page he looks up to greet you, but then stops… Bitch, fuck is you wearing? This was worlds away from the sweats, and skinny jeans you wore on the daily.

“Greetings Y/N you look…. Fashionable.” Mans didn’t know what to say. Did he miss something about your Africna roots? Was there a holiday he hadn’t heard of, doubt it, but what else was there?

“Thank you Elijah.” You fluff out your lion pelt for added effect, if there was ever going to be one time you outdo the Mikaelsons’ especially Elijah in being dramatic with a coat or cloak of somesort, it would be now.

At this point the Kol and Rebekah have already looked up and were confused. Why are you dressed like that?

Kol is the first one to speak up “Darling, Rebekah likes a fashion show more than anyone, but why do you have a lion… on your shoulder.”

Lifting up your large ass shades you supplied an answer: “Black History Month”

They all looked at each other… they didn’t get it. Like they know what it is, but never actually understood how to celebrate and all that nor did they ever actually give it mind. When you saw that they weren’t making a connection, you started phase 1.

“Alexa, you know what to do.”

And there goes their manor playing: NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA I’M ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NIGGA

LMFAOOOOO you got the white people shook. Klaus just dropped one of his expensive ass bottles of art sealants and is vamp speeding to the kitchen to figure out what the hell is going on. Elijah having a mid century crisis on how tf they even found you and deemed you worthy of being in their presence so casually. Kol is having fun in the back, still laughing at your get up. And Rebekah wishes she went to the mall instead, she wanted a girl bestie and got you instead rip

“WHAT IN BLAZES- Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DO- WHAT ARE YOU WEARING! ALEXA STOP THE MUSIC-” And the big bad wolf has arrived. You put your finger to Klaus’ lips which stuns him bc… you’re still HOOOMAN like damn, death wish much? And you look this man, straight in his mit and say “Looks at, look at me” and pause for dramatic affect, “I am the captain now”

Room silent as hell till Kol starts cackling

You’ve made Dr. Umar proud, the ancestors are shining on you once again

With that you lead into a whole speech about the black struggle and black history month, bottom line: REPARATIONS. Because being the only nigga in the Mikaelsons (we don’t claim Marcel) is exhausting, white people shit everyday that you complain about in their faces

TBH at this point they’re indulging you in this escapade.

First victim is Elijah, you ask for his wallet. He gives you a look, I mean he does technically give you what you want and whatever (when y’all dating, refer back to my dating Elijah post), so he ask you why. Reparations sis why, but then you stop yourself. This man gives you his wallet every other day, half the time you not even asking. What could you rob this man of…. Ah. You ask him for the deed of one of his estates in Prague, why? Because you bitches can’t even spell Prague. And under section S line 45 subsection Y it does state that estates are eligible for reparations. Fuck 40 acres and a mule, you got 300 acres, some stallions in the back, a quite possibly haunted mansion, and a heavy dicked (yeah I said it, a sis been trying to reality shift) original who will turn you out by the end of the day and the end of the month…. Wait till women's history month boo

We know his pockets figgity fat, and it would be figgity wack to not get some

Ngl you take Kol with you so he can buy you food. Granted, he knows what you’re doing, but if he’s going to spend money on anything it will be thawed and it will be music. However, one thing leads to another and you’re both at Wal-Mart waiting to find a parking spot. You stole one off a white minivan trying to move in. Not thinking anything of it because who in this small ass Mystic Falls ass, clown ass town really about it? Apparently Karen.

But you know who else what about it? Kol (tbh mans had nothing but time, and he claims you so why tf not.) he out here NY stomping on her and coming at her for badly glued extensions. Cheap ass bitch, ain’t even blend in correctly.

After that Kol and you left with some groceries, a new story to tell, and a chopped cheese.

With Klaus, he frfr wasn’t finna do shit. Being ordered my a human? Lmfao, go find another simp sis. But… once you suggest that his art skills may not be up to par on what you have in mind as a new family room piece for your house he’s all ears. He knows what you’re doing, but… he still wants to prove you wrong. But anyways, you give him a theme… reverse racism. IK y’all, it’s not a thing, but mans has ideas. And he outdoes himself. That and the recreation of the moorish chief bc that man...mmmmm that man was giving.

Ok so Google wanna hoe me, but there was a painting of a black man in a kkk cloak and behind him were white people being hung from a tree. Say what you want, but that photo was fire. If any of you seen it please share it below.

Anyways

Rebekah tbh wants no part in this, but I feel like she’d gave when you ask her to give you all the finest dresses bc it’s an excuse to exhaust Klaus’ money.

Through the month you give the Mikaelsons a run for their money, and maybe sanity. Klaus is in the back trying to research who tf Dr. Umar is and why is he your inspiration

They had to pull you back when the sheriff asked you for your ID. You ask why you needed white man paperwork!

You are pleasing the spirits, what bonnie could never do lmfaooooo. The powers of you enemies aren’t prospering this month nor next month.

You’re not poor this month, anything you poor of is pouring a little more (bars nigga)

LMFAOOOO imaging asking the fam to go to paris, like, they not invited it’s a self trip funded my the Mikaelson Y/N Trust Fund of Public Decency ™

Klaus would be the first one to speak because this man is TIRED, “Love, why do you need a trip to paris? What’s in Paris?”

Knowing better, you look to Kol to answer the question, “I don’t know, Kol, who’s in Paris?” Niggas b. Niggas in paris…. Lemme chill

LMFAOOO enjoy

#klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd x reader #the originals #black reader #black!reader #poc!reader #poc reader #niggasbelike

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confusedhost-archive · 3 years ago

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Okay time to elaborate on the Wild Witch Lilith au bc its actually a lot more than her being. You know: a wild witch

So while Lilith’s running away is the CAUSE of these changes, Raine and Hunter are both more prominent in this as well.

Lilith messed up and was going to be petrified, but got out before they could even announce it. She becomes a wild witch but keeps in contact with Raine Whispers, a school friend, as well as one child in the Emperor’s coven: Hunter, the golden guard.

She leaves hunter a note that directs him to Raine and the two of them learn to get along (after, of course, it’s explained that Lilith allegedly left him a note. Even then, Hunter is suspicious. He didn’t know Lilith further than a nod or possibly a shared mission. But she expressed worry for him, so after a lot of time, he decided to - hesitantly - take her up on her offer to meet a friend. It will take him a while to trust them truly.)

More in a storytelling form under the cut

It’s about two months later that Lilith manages to catch Hunter at Raine’s house. She comes in through the back door and is searching lazily through her bag for the spices she apparently promised last time she intruded. Seeing Hunter makes her falter. “Ah, the golden guard.” While she doesn’t seem particularly excited, she certainly doesn’t sound upset.

Raine looks confused. “Was he not the one you gave the letter to?”

“Oh no, he is.” Lilith says, still standing by the door. “I just didn’t particularly expect to ever really... see him.” Now she moves to the table where they’re sitting and seats herself in one of the chairs. “You won’t hand me over to the emperor, will you?”

Hunter shakes his head.

Raine elbows Lilith in the arm. “Never expected to see him? Don’t tell me you were planning on leaving me to take care of a kid alone every other Saturday?”

Any stress that Lilith may have had drains from her as she laughs. “Is that when I should have been dropping by? Our friday date nights don’t work for you?” Raine laughs too, and Hunter doesn’t recognize the atmosphere. It’s calm, and it’s teasing, and it’s nice. He comes back more often.

(Lilith and Raine talk a few weeks later, Hunter having come and left for the day. Raine raises a brow over their glass of cider and asks if this means they have both have custody over a child. Lilith laughs. She says that, well, maybe they do.

Raine leans back in their chair. “However will we assure we won’t fall in love?”

Lilith rolls her eyes fondly. “Easy. I think you’re stupid.” She’s teasing and they know it.

“That’s a bold move against a teacher, Clawthorne.” Then, in retaliation: “Well, it’s good I think you’re annoying, then.” They’re teasing too.

A pause after their laughter has subsided. Then, and Raine asks this one too, “Wait- are we sharing custody with the Emperor?”

Lilith makes a choking sound over her glass of water, and then, a dribble of water coming from the corner of her mouth, says, “I can promise you I won’t fall in love with him.”

Raine raises their glass with a mock solemnity. “Cheers to that.” Their cups clink together.)

Lilith and Raine are there for Hunter. They’re there for when he’s hurt and there for when he’s happy. Raine is a wonderful teacher and Lilith is happy to show the magic that they can’t supply.

(Hunter has no magic and can’t use what the two of them teach him, but Lilith, out of all of them, is the closest to having the ability to use wild magic. Wild magic is the ability to mix magic as one pleases, and it’s with great annoyance that she finds she can’t do that. “I thought the emperor’s coven was the only coven where witches don’t get their magic restrained!” She complains, later.)

Hunter learns how to play instruments, and Lilith enjoys attempting the xylophone, when Raine chooses to bring one home.

(She enjoys the simplicity and the sound, she says. Raine steals the mallets from her and produces two more, playing a quick song with the mallets pressed between their fingers. “Is it simple now, Clawthorne?” They ask, and turn around to their awed audience. There’s a sudden realization that they have a two person crowd watching, and with a flushed face, they call off the rest of the day’s music lessons.)

Hunter enjoys the guitar and clarinet, they find. The piano is an old friend to him, and he’s happy to play it mindlessly when he has nothing else to do.

(He plays it the day Raine first finds him with a bandage on his face. They can’t convince him to take it off, but he wears it for a month. There’s a scar on his face after the bandaid is gone. He doesn’t say anything about it and Raine doesn’t press. There was something sad about his song on the day Raine found him playing.)

Raine and hunter convince Lilith to dye her hair a light blue grey (They requested white, to match with their general scheme, but she refused.) and Lilith gets Raine to add a gem to their outfit. Hunter can’t get anything permanent, but both adults enjoy playing with his hair while he’s with them.

Lilith and Raine have cared for Hunter for two years now. Raine’s been climbing up the ranks, and while Hunter is away, (Hunter is a good kid, but he feels an obligation to his uncle. Neither adult knows what to do about it. All they can do is give him as safe a space they can.) they talk about ways to mess up any plans Belos may have. On a late night, Raine admits that Eda (the name is spoken with mixed feelings. Neither saw her last under good circumstances.) was the cause of their drive to do something about the terribleness of the coven system. Lilith says nothing.

She lives more at Raine’s house now. Sleeping on the couch after helping them with a plan, then leaving if there’s ever a knock on anything but a window (Hunter refuses to come in through a door) to keep from the possibility of them getting arrested for holding a criminal in their home. Wandering the city never ceases to be nerve wracking, even with the difference in her appearance.

She was only at the convention to cheer on Hunter. While his place as the mystery guest unnerved both her and Raine (He was only sixteen. Taking place as figurehead of the coven was too much.) he seemed excited, so they congratulated him, and Lilith confronted the terrifying possibility of being recognized to go clap for his performance.

She was recognized. Somehow, her sister spotted her (Was she not also a wild witch? She hated covens, and really, Lilith saw no reason for her to be at such a convention.) and asked about her disappearance. Lilith rolled her eyes and dusted off every question, interrupted only by a human child asking for Eda’s help.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Lilith said, and walked off. Her sister’s “I’m not done with you!” Only made her chuckle as she searched for Hunter in the crowd.

Lilith attempted to leave a long while later. Apparently the place where the human’s witch’s duel had taken place was broken rather severely. She’d stuck around only long enough to see that most spectators were gone, and she watched both the young Blight and the human storm out of the door before Edalyn pointed up at her.

“HEY LILITH!” Eda called. “I WANT TO TALK!”

Lilith narrowed her eyes and called up magic. “WELL I DON’T!” She yelled back.

That was how Lilith ended up in Raine’s house, bruised and annoyed. Lilith refused to admit how she ended up hurt, tight lipped as she healed herself and avoided eye contact with the equally amused and concerned bard on the sofa.

The next time Lilith saw Eda was after making a bet with Raine. Lilith was terrible with alcohol, honestly, and it didn’t get much wine to get her talking smack. It was a blurry memory, but all she knew is that she needed to get some sort of powerful artifact, to prove... something to Raine.

A flower of youth sounded good. She gained a map, and with a small offhand comment about what her sister must look like now (She’d seen posters, and a younger Eda’s hair was growing white already). She was doing perfectly fine on her own, but somehow, for some reason, her sister had decided to tag along. Which was fine! They were bonding a bit, really. Especially after the blood sucker (emphasis on sucker. Little bitch.) started trying to scare them. Cute, but the sisters were mean when they wanted to be, and oh, did Lilith want to be.

She lost the bet, but she saw her sister again. Under better circumstances (though only barely) and without a fight. She could call that a win.

It happened again (Not a clue how she got roped into a grudgby match, but it was fun while it lasted.) and again (Eda finally getting caught on account of that little human she found was terribly tragic.) and again (also getting caught after accidentally slipping to the human that she’d caused Eda’s curse was more than a little embarrassing.)

She wanted to say sorry. She didn’t think it was enough.

Eda was understandably upset.

Lilith didn’t have a proper cure. She’d been looking for one for a while now, but even any knowledge about the curse she’d used was gone. All she had to make up for it all was her backup plan.

“With this spell declared, let the pain be shared.”

#I'll get back to u with season two later if someone asks #it doesnt change much in the show but like. lilith is a lot less um looking up to an entire child bc thats!! uncomfortable for a kid #toh #the owl house #ww!lilith au #lilith clawthorne #raine whispers #hunter toh

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

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I can't stress enough 'wows' in tve way you write along with the fact that it's you first few posts (i think? Pls correct me) can you do luci mammon and satan with a reader who takes naps bc of overthinking? They just tug their sleeves and shot them a tired look, while looking down shying away. Also, have a nice day and take the time to be yourself!

Aw thanks fam! I am fairly new to posting my works, I tried twice before this with two different writing blogs but I deleted them both bc I felt discouraged. I’m older now and I feel a lot better about my writing, so third time the charm and all that lol! I’m so glad you like my writing! I know I need some work on grammar and expanding my vocabulary.

This was a super cute prompt ;.; I hope I did it justice!

Lucifer

He is a mix of jealous and pissed. He wishes he could fall asleep so easily when he gets inundated with too many things at once. But also- just don’t do that? Where were your manners?

He starts noticing your little peculiarity in class. Specifically that you tend to nod off in advance alchemy and rune scripting. You were being so studious, jotting down notes, ask great questions. Next thing he knows you're out like a light.

He is shocked for a moment before he will wake you up. Your wide doe-eyed frown does nothing to him. JK his hearts clench at your wounded look.

He makes the other brothers report to him about your behavior and odd sleep habit. Were you ill? Was this just something humans did? Devils, was Belphie rubbing off on you?

They all say the same thing. One moment you are working hard or talking to them about a topic you are passionate about, and the next you are yawning hard enough to pop your jaw and shyly asking to lay down.

Well-he can’t have that.

If you are going to fall asleep around anyone it’s going to be him.

He sets up remedial lessons with you after dinner to make up for the work slept through. You sit by him at his long ornate desk while he tutors you on what you missed.

You weren't having any problems, you even finished a few pages. He is proud and then-

“I can almost hear those gears slowing my dear.” Lucifer interrupts himself mid-explanation of Zosimos of Panopolis and Maria the Prophetess's theories of alchemy in human medicine.

You jerk awake and turn to him blinking owlishly. "Yeah, I just need to lay down." You admit.

Lucifer eyes you critically. This was sudden, were you ill? You had been fine moments ago, bright-eyed and enthusiastic. He cups your face, turning it from side to side. "So suddenly? We haven't even discussed the properties of mercury yet." You hum letting your eyes droop. He was always so warm.

"Hour nap break? Please?" His stern gaze softens at how your nose scrunches up cutely as you yawn.

“Very well.” He relents letting you slick over to his couch. You flop over face first with a grunt of satisfaction. You toss and turn for a while, moving his pillows around unsatisfied.

“Luci-” You call in defeat. He ignores you at first. If you wanted to nap fine, he would get some work done in the meantime. “Luci~” You say again. You could see his brow twitching. “Lu-”

“My dear,” He shoots you a withering look. “You are treading a thin line. If you have the energy to call for me you have the energy to study.” You say nothing at his brisk tone, instead of opening your arms to him to join you. “You tempt me.” He purrs hiding his smile behind his paperwork.

“Learned from the best.” Lucifer shakes his head laughing at your smug reply. He glances over you to his grandfather clock. Hmmm-perhaps he could spare a few minutes. He rises elegantly discarding his tie and waistcoat to his abandoned chair. Running a hand through his hair he snorts at your little whistle.

“Move.” He commands. You shake your head patting your belly. “I will crush you.” He laughs but lays over you regardless.

“Good-you’re warm.” You say muffled in his shirt. Wrapping your arms around his middle you drift off. Lucifer holds you close, running a still gloved hand up and down your side. Perhaps he should bring out some more complex topics next time. If this was the outcome-

Mammon

He noticed you get drowsy before in class. Your cute little head jerks as you nod off, hands rubbing at your face as you fight to stay awake before giving in to the need to sleep. It was adorable- not that he was watching you because of that! He was just doing his job of looking out for you

Ye-that was all.

Honestly, he thought you were just like him. He never cared for the books being forced on him in class. Boring useless crap in his opinion. He much rather sleep through a lecture on stats too.

Now books on photography? That's where it's at. He has a legitimate passion for it.

He likes being behind the camera just as much as he likes being in front of it. Though he doesn't snap photos often.

He doesn't need more beratement from his brothers than he already gets. Sides, he just feels like they would look down at this like everything else he does.

He'll share his hobby with you though. You at least seem interested in it. He'll show you his collection of vintage to high-tech cameras and talk your ear off about the makes, models, and features.

You nod along and ask questions from time to time, smiling along with Mammon while he prattles on about color theory next to you on the floor.

He was just getting to Auguste Lumiére when he feels a gentle bump on his shoulder.

"O-oi!" Mammon starts, shaking his shoulder to rouse you. You look up at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes. "Was...was I that boring?" He deflates a little, all previous excitement gone in a flash. You had seemed so interested...

"What? Oh, no. No Mammon I'm sorry. It's really all fascinating," You grab for his sleeve so he couldn't run away. "It was just a lot of information all at once. I just got a bit overwhelmed."

"So you fall asleep?" He raises a brow not believing you for a second. Who falls asleep when something is interesting? He'll admit he's fallen asleep while listening to Levi talk about a new anime or Asmo with a make-up release. But that's because it had been boring. "Is that like a human thing?"

You shrug snuggling closer. "I don't know- but it's a me thing. Give me five? I'd love to hear you talk more about your collection, promise."

Mammon glows scarlet at your words. "Of course you do!" He puffs out his chest excitedly. “I got great taste.” You nod into his shirt before drifting off again. He tilts his head slightly to look at you chuckling internally when your breathing and heartbeat slow down. Damn, out in seconds. Well, better get comfortable.

Uncrossing his long legs he picks up the camera he had been showing you. The old Polaroid lens reflects his face back at him. He remembered the day Land had debuted this marvel of engineering. He just had had to get his hands on one. It was useless now, he had much better quality cameras than this old thing, but he remembered you reminiscing about your human friends and their portable camera. Would you take some pictures with him too? He would take one now, but the sound of the flash would definitely wake you up.

He fiddles with it for a few more minutes, opening and closing the film canister and checking for any parts that needed fixing as he waits. You stir at his side a few minutes later with a little mew of satisfaction. Mammon hears your joints creak and pop as you stretch. "Morning." He says sarcastically, earning himself a light punch to his shoulder. "Ready to continue?"

You nod eagerly, perky and aware. At least for the moment.

Satan

He didn't really notice at first the pattern of your behavior.

You would come over for book club. Which was really just him reading his current novel and you picking something at random to gain a little random knowledge.

You would find a comfortable position on his bed, curl up nice and small and read. Then after a bit yawn and start to snooze.

He first thought it was the atmosphere of his room. It was quiet, warm, and the sound of flickering candles and the rustle of paper sometimes caused him to doze too.

But when it starts happening outside of class he notices.

Hmmm….this is new.

He looks it up in his human anatomy books and finds nothing.

He's not particularly worried about you per se. You always bounce back quickly after a quick snooze.

Then you start dozing when he is talking… >:(

Like his brother/dad he is a little miffed at first but then your behavior reminds him a cat and he loves you 10x harder now

Satan stops in his pacing of the back gardens. His book of poetry hanging limply in his hand. He had been reciting some of the most fascinating lines of work from Lord Byron's later works and wanted a human's perspective. He had thought you were interested. You never complained before when he asked you out here. Perhaps you were just being polite all those times before. Anything to soothe wrath. He snaps his book shut sharply, take some perverse satisfaction in the way you start out of your light sleep at the noise.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask wiping at your face.

"No point talking to someone that doesn't wish to listen." He snaps tersely.

"Oh-Satan, no I was listening. It...it just got to be so much so fast." You flush. “You had some great points going, I just needed a minute.” He watches your eyes grow heavy again, and it dawns on him.

"Do you just sleep when overwhelmed?" He asks incredulously. In all his years with humans, this was new. You shrug making grabby hands for him to move closer. He scoffs but moves into your space. You grab at the hem of his shirt and pull him down to sit next to you. He goes willingly getting comfortable by your side. You eye his lap longingly, hands clutching around his coat sleeve. “Fine-” He rolls his eyes. “Come here you odd thing.” You smile in triumph and crawl into his lap. Once settled you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“Wake me up in ten? I want to hear more about your conversations with Byron.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kisses the top of your forehead, opening his book to read again with one hand. You hum at his soft kiss, returning it sleepily with one of your own before passing out again. Ten minutes go by in an instant and Satan looks down at your peaceful face. He smiles to himself, perhaps he’ll let you sleep for a little while longer. You’d need it for his next point.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me prompts #cute!

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dreamypeaches · 4 years ago

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don’t wake up pt. 2 | rafe cameron x reader

summary: after spending the week hoping to see rafe again, sarah invites you to a sleepover at tannyhill.

warnings: SMUT, cursing, alcohol use

word count: 2.8k

a/n: thank you all for the wonderful response to part 1! this is my first time posting smut, so let me know what you think of it. i honestly think i did a good job rereading it, bc it is hot. there will definitely be one or two more parts to this, maybe even more idk. all i know for sure is there will be a lot more sexy times. enjoy :)

series masterlist

It had been a week since the Boneyard kegger and you couldn’t get Rafe out of your head. You hadn’t seen him since that night, at least not in real life. Your dreams, however, were plagued with him. The way his hands had gripped your hips, his lips on your lips, your neck, imagining how they would feel on other parts of your body.

Part of you had been tempted to drive down to Figure 8 and “run into him” somewhere. One morning, after an especially steamy dream, you almost asked Sarah for his number. But then you thought of the questions that would come with that request and decided against it. You felt pathetic, pining after a guy you’d spent a couple hours with. A guy who, by all accounts was an asshole and hated people like you. Why would he want a Pogue like you?

Still, you wanted to see him. At least once. Just look in his eyes and see if that same spark was there. You had even tagged along with JJ during the day more often than usual, hoping Rafe and his Kook friends would appear to antagonize one of your best friends. But he was nowhere to be seen. As the week came to a close, you resigned yourself to experiencing his touch in your dreams only.

You were laying in the hammock at the Chateau listening to music with Kie, who laid beside you lazily braiding your hair, when Sarah suddenly appeared. She practically jumped onto you and Kie’s laps, a grin on her face.

“Let’s have a girls night!” She proclaimed, “Ward and Rose are taking Wheezie and her friend on a mini vacation on the mainland, so I have Tannyhill all to myself!”

“What about Rafe?” You asked, trying to fill your voice with disdain rather than hope. Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry about him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother us. So?”

You and Kie looked at each other. Kie raised her eyebrows, a smirk on her face. You smiled back and nodded. Both of you looked back at Sarah.

“We’re in!” Kie said.

“Yay!” Sarah pulled both of you into a hug, already unleashing all of her plans for the night. After telling you to be there at 6, she left to prepare for the night.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had a night just us girls. I mean, I love the boys, but I could use a break from them,” Kie said, finishing the braid in your hair.

“Yeah, fuck the boys,” You giggled, though in your head, you were much more focused on one particular boy than the girls night ahead of you.

Kie drove you to Sarah’s house, arriving at 6:30. Kie complained about how long it took you to get ready for a sleep over. You just laughed and told her you needed to look good for your girls. If she had know the truth, her head might have exploded. You had worn your cutest pair of pajamas, a large shirt with short shorts that left little to the imagination. You’d even done your make up. Not much, keeping it natural. After all, it was a sleep over, you didn’t need to go all out.

You were disappointed when you didn’t see Rafe as you walked in, but assumed Sarah had probably threatened him with violence if he came anywhere near her friends. You tried not to let thoughts of Rafe distract you, actually wanting to enjoy the night with your best girl friends. Sarah had stolen a couple bottles of wine from her dad’s wine cellar, passing around wine glasses before heading up to her room.

The three of you quickly became tipsy on the wine, giggling at little things. You all were laying on Sarah’s large bed, giggling at Sarah’s sexual mishap with John B in the Twinkie.

“I thought my nipple was going to come off! Like I’m sorry, I know it probably hurt when I kneed your dick, but who bites a nipple that hard? So, moral of the story, never have sex in the back of the van.”

You and Kie burst into laughter, while Sarah contained her giggles, trying her best to look annoyed.

“What about you two? Any sexy stories to share? Y/N, what about that Touron from the kegger?”

Your laughter quickly faded as Rafe was brought to the forefront of your mind. You bit your lip, trying to hide a smile.

“Nothing happened, I haven’t seen him since that night.”

“Well, you need to track him down!” Kie exclaimed, sitting up on her elbow to look down at you. You just shrugged, not meeting your friend’s eyes.

“Y/N, you should have seen the look on your face when we were leaving. You had literal stars in your eyes.”

You shrugged and downed the rest of you wine, sitting up on the bed.

“I don’t know. If I run into him again, we’ll see what happens. I’m gonna go get some water.”

Sarah started asking Kie about the girl she had been talking to as you padded out of the room and down the stairs.

You made your way to the kitchen, where a happy surprise waited for you. Rafe stood cooking something at the stove. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His back was facing you, giving you a moment to take in his form. Your eyes wandered his body, tracing his biceps and the curve on his shoulder blade.

“Hi, Rafe,” You finally said, just loud enough for him to hear. He turned suddenly, surprised expression quickly turning to a smirk. You looked into his green eyes and felt your heart jump when you saw it. That spark you’d been hoping for for the past week.

“Hey,” he replied. You slowly made your way to the cupboard, making sure to brush up against him as you passed.

“How’ve you been?” He asked. You shrugged, filling up your glass at the fridge.

“I’ve been better. I’ve been a little lonely, especially at night, you know? My mind starts to wander to certain places,” You moved back over to Rafe. Your chests were almost touching as he smirked down at you. His breath fanned across your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe you need a little company,” He whispered, his low tone going straight to your core. You smiled at him innocently, moving so your lips were inches apart.

“Yeah I do.”

You noticed him start to lean in and quickly pulled away, skipping towards the stairs.

“That’s why I’m having girls night,” You called, keeping the innocent look on you face. His light eyes had grown dark, watching as you moved away. They followed the curve of you ass, very evident in the shorts you were wearing. You inwardly smirked at the effect you had and started up the stairs.

“Your grilled cheese is burning, by the way,” You called. You giggled at the quiet shit he let out and made your way back to Sarah’s room.

You, Kie, and Sarah spent the next several hours having as much fun as you could. After a few dance parties, a couple rounds of truth or dare, and intense argument about whether Hannah Montana or Miley Cyrus was better that almost turned violent, you all collapsed on to the bed, turning on a random movie. Sarah and Kie fell asleep quickly, but you were wide awake, replaying the moment with Rafe in the kitchen.

You rubbed your thighs together, wanting nothing more than for Rafe to touch you. With a groan, you hopped out the bed and quietly escaped Sarah’s room. You had been to Sarah’s house several times before, but your knowledge of the layout was reduced to the path from the kitchen to Sarah’s room. You tiptoed down the hallway, trying to figure out which room was his. You a few doors down from Sarah’s, you could see a faint light from beneath the door frame. You knocked a couple times, then stood, waiting. It didn’t take long for Rafe to open the door. He was still shirtless, but had removed his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. He smirked down at you, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head.

“You fucking tease,” He said before crashing his lips onto yours. You were almost knocked off your feet by the force of it. You placed your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Without breaking the kiss, he moved you into his room, kicking the door closed behind him. His hand moved down to your ass, gripping hard as he lightly slammed you against the wall. He broke the kiss, brushing your hair out of your face as his eyes examined your flustered face. The same hand slowly moved down your cheek until it was gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. Do you have any idea what you do to me? I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week, how I wanted to fuck you while you screamed my name.”

You let out a whimper at his words, breathing uneven. You could feel your panties become more and more soaked as his hand moved from your ass to your hip, playing with the waist band of your shorts.

“Then you come into my kitchen wearing this, getting me all worked up.” He laughed humorlessly, his hand diving below your waistband. His fingers ghosted across the soaked fabric that covered your center.

“Got yourself all worked up too, didn’t you?”

Your panties were pushed to the side, giving him space to run his fingers through your folds. You let out a moan as you nodded. His finger came up to his lips, sucking your wetness from them.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you,” He said before going on his knees in front of you. His breath fanned against your inner thighs as he slowly slid your shorts down your thighs. When they landed on the floor, you stepped out of them and kicked them across the floor. Rafe placed gentle kisses across your thighs and stomach, avoiding the spot you needed him most. You whimpered as his mouth hovered over your clothed clit.

“What do you want, baby?” Rafe said.

“Touch me, Rafe, please, I need you!” You moaned out. He was quick to respond, fingers deftly moving your underwear aside, giving him space to wrap his lips around your sensitive bundle, lightly sucking. You moaned so loudly it was almost a scream. Rafe gave a hard slap to your ass in response, looking up at you.

“Uh uh, not too loud, angel. Don’t want your friends to hear, do you?”

You shook your head quickly, hand reaching down to push him closer to your pussy. He chuckled before compiling, licking a strip up your center, thumb moving to rub circles against your clit. Your head fell back against the wall as he continued his movements. His tongue delved into you, flicking in and out. One of his arms wrapped around your thigh, holding you up while spreading you wider. You were already a mess of pleasure when he slowly pushed two fingers into you, tongue moving up to you clit. You bit your lip to surpress your moans, but it was difficult as his fingers started to move faster. It became too much and a single, long moan escaped your mouth. Rafe’s movements ceased. He removed his fingers from you and stood up, hand gripping your hair, pulling it to where there was more pleasure than pain,

“What the fuck did I say?” He asked. Your tried to rub your thighs together, trying to regain the friction you had lost, but he moved his leg between your own.

“I’m sorry, Rafe. Please, I’ll be quiet, I promise,” You whimpered.

He smirked at you.

“Yes you will.”

He kissed you again, tongue dominating your own as he explored your mouth. He dragged you to the bed, throwing you down on your back before returning to his knees, pulling you to the edge of the mattress. He nearly ripped your panties off, mouth diving back to taste your dripping center. His hand reached up, clasping over your mouth, while the other returned to your entrance, fingers fucking you roughly. It didn’t take long before you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. Your screams were muffled behind Rafe’s hand as he continued to lick and suck on your clit, fingers pounding into you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you came on his fingers. You felt him smirk as you clenched around him, but his movement didn’t let up. He moved his hand up under your shirt to massage your breast while his tongue moved down to fuck your entrance. He went back an forth between your entrance and you clit, hand moving between both your breasts to roughly massage them. Your second orgasm came fast and hard, leaving you with stars behind your eyes as he lapped up your juices.

He moved up your body, biting and sucking across your torso, leaving bright red and purple marks like constellations. He reached your face and removed his hand, kissing you hard and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. He broke away, pulling your shirt over head and throwing it to the side before standing up, pulling his boxers off. You bit your lip as you stared at his cock, wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around it. He stroked himself a few times, taking in your fuck out look and the hungry look in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get to taste my cock later. Right now, I want to feel you.”

He reached into his bedside table and pulled out a condom. He ripped it open and rolled it over his dick, stroking it a few for times. He stood over you, eyes once again raking over your body.

“God, look at you. You’re gonna take me so good.” He leaned over you, hand coming up to grip your throat. A moan started to escape your lips at the pressure, but he caught it with a kiss. He pushed himself into you as he kissed you, giving you little time to adjust to his size before he started pounding into you. He broke the kiss, holding himself up on his forearm as he thrusted into you. His hand tightened around your throat, muffling your loud moans slightly, leaving the only other sound in the room to be the slapping of skin and the dirty words Rafe whispered in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you like this for days.”

“Feel so much better than in my dreams, baby.”

“Taking that cock so well.”

After several minutes, his hand moved from your throat down to you clit, rubbing fast circles into it. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his thrusts became harder, hitting that spot inside of you. You were so close. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, you could tell he was close too. He leaned down again, fingers still working your clit, and whispered, “Cum all over my dick, angel.”

You did as you were told, coming with a scream of his name, for a moment not caring if Kie and Sarah heard. Rafe wasn’t far behind you. He suddenly pulled out, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He removed the condom from himself and gave a few short stroked before coming across your chest and stomach.

“Fuck,” He whispered, more to himself than you. You heard him walk to the joining bathroom, but didn’t pay much attention. Your eyes were shut tight, trying to catch you breath and come to terms with what just happened. You just fucked Rafe Cameron. Hard. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, it was the best sex you’ve ever had.

Rafe returned with a wet towel, cleaning his cum off of you before collapsing beside you. He pulled back the covers and pulled you into his side under them. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat in his chest. His hand gently played with your hair, a stark contrast to his actions before.

You laid their in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. Eventually, you heard Rafe’s breath even out, quiet snores vibrating through his chest that you found adorable. You untangled yourself from his arm, slipping off the bed to gather your clothes and redress. Sneaking back to Sarah’s room, you hoped neither of the girls had noticed your absence, or heard you screaming Rafe’s name a few rooms down.

The next morning, Rafe woke feeling cold. He turned over to where you had been lying, the nights events running through his head and he hoped that it wasn’t just a dream. But he smiled when he noticed a yellow sticky note on the pillow beside him with a series of numbers and a note in your unique handwriting.

Text me :)

taglist: @bluesiderudy

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #obx fic #my writing

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notveryglittery · 4 years ago

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mice on venus (1.1)

summary: gee, those forest ravines really pop out at you, huh? wc: 2k / ships: romantic royality, qpr prinxiety, romantic analogical. warnings: falling off a cliff, injuries, janus is a lil rough around the edges but sometimes u gotta be when living in a dangerous blocky world... author’s note: i couldn’t sleep last night... bc brain was making this... and also @thoriffix makes nice minecraft art... so yeah, minecraft sanders sides au? i have no clue what i’m doing besides having fun :) not too much knowledge of the game is needed; you can look at it as a basic adventure au. enjoy!

mice on venus (1.1) (you are here) | far (1.2) title inspo: (spotify link) (youtube link) idk if this will go on ao3 but here’s a spot for editing

— — —

Patton’s voice tears from his throat in a raw and terrified shout. "Roman!" He screams, hands outstretched uselessly, as Roman tips backwards over the edge of a ravine, and disappears.

Logan is there, barely a second later. He rifles through his bag, finds what he needs, and throws it with all the force he can muster. Gravity won't let it hit the ground before Roman does, but it will help when it arrives nonetheless. He hurries to stand, turn, and face —

"What happened?!" Virgil asks breathlessly, daggers drawn and at the ready.

"Roman fell into a ravine," Logan answers with so little tact that Patton would scold him for it if he were paying enough attention to overhear. The color in Virgil's face drains. "I threw a Splash Potion of Healing after him," Logan reassures without pausing, "but we need to get down there."

"I knew I should've stayed home," drawls their final party member, sounding awfully bored despite the situation.

Patron does hear this and he rounds on Janus with fire in his eyes. "How could you be so cruel?! Roman might be dead!"

Janus raises an eyebrow. "Were you not listening just now? Our local brewer lobbed a potion. Roman's seen worse. He'll be fine."

Patton's lower lip trembles but it's hard to tell whether he wants to cry or to berate. Maybe both. He looks for Virgil, only to find him at the ravine's edge with a bucket. Water is flowing from where it's been poured, creating a safe passage for them to traverse down in once safe.

Roman, meanwhile, is falling.

His only warning had been the horror dawning on Patton's face and even then, it came after his foot met air instead of solid ground like he expected. For some inane reason, his first thought as he went plummeting was "who put this ravine in the middle of a forest?" Next, it was panic and "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"

With the wind stinging his face and his blood roaring in his ears, Roman knows he has mere seconds to figure out how to make this suck less. He struggles to right himself until he's facing the ground that is rushing up to meet him. He pulls his shield from where it is strapped to his back and thanks Jeb that he'd had the foresight, as their fighter, to give himself something sturdier. The rickety thing the others use wouldn't have done much for him here but the curved, solid iron plate he tucks himself into should absorb most of the impact.

That doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt like hell. He can barely cry out with how his breath is knocked out of him. Pain shoots up his ankles and legs, lighting every nerve along the way. He tilts over, gritting his teeth and trying to see beyond the stars that swim through his vision. He isn't safe… There could… Mobs…

Glass shatters next to him and he flinches from it. Please not a witch, please not a witch, please not a witch —

As opposed to the nauseous kick of poison or the heavy weight of slowness, however, warmth of healing washes over him. In his shock, he'd forgotten anyone had been with him but of course, Logan would have been right behind Patton, with his emergency potions. Relief floods over everything else. He isn't alone. He has help.

"— an idiot!" is the first thing Roman hears when he comes to. He opens his eyes to see Virgil pacing beside him, flailing his arms, and apparently mid-rant. It's probably Logan at his feet, wrapping his ankle in a splint. Ah… the pain from it being jostled must've woken him… He's glad he doesn't remember it.

"Honey," Patton's voice whimpers, close to him, choked and scared and none of that will do —

"C'mere," Roman croaks, reaching for his beloved. Patton catches Roman's hand and holds it almost too tightly. Roman isn't sure which one of them is shaking. He brings Patton's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "I'm okay, sweetness. Don't cry. Please. You know a smile will help me recover better than anything."

"That's not true," Logan pipes up, deadpan.

Patton gives him a tremulous smile anyway.

"Learn to watch—" Virgil stops. Freezes. Looks up. "Oh. Great." He's rifling through his supplies before the others even have time to ask him what's wrong.

The sudden realization of dimming light answers them well enough, though. Janus wastes no time in beginning to help Virgil, moving with him to the ravine's wall to back their makeshift base against. Sunset brings with it monsters and they certainly aren’t in the best place to handle that.

"You need to sleep before you get back on your feet," Logan tells Roman as he packs away his med kit. "No adventures for at least three days."

Roman gasps, as if Logan has just told him his birthday is canceled.

"Logan's right, dear," Patton intervenes, pulling one of Roman's arms over and around his shoulder. He helps him stand slowly, making sure Roman favors weight on his less injured ankle. "It's okay, I'm gonna stay with you! It'll go by so quick, you won't even know it happened."

Roman wants to complain further but he’s lightheaded from his now-vertical position. With practiced ease, Virgil and Janus have a lean-to set up to keep them safe from the nights terrors. Unfortunately, there’s only enough materials for two beds. Fortunately, they sleep in shifts anyway. It takes some coaxing to convince Roman that he doesn’t need to stay awake for one but once his head is on the pillow and Patton is combing a hand through his hair, he’s out.

Logan sits up for the first two hours. Forty minutes in, Janus leaves to explore the ravine. The others know better than to even try stopping him. He returns, laden with coal and iron ore.

“Roman’s shield is gonna need repairing,” Janus says matter-of-factly as he takes over for the next watch.

Logan groans. “I suppose, at least, the painting will keep him busy while he’s grounded.”

“He’ll last…” Janus pauses, considering. “I give him no more than a day and a half.”

“If he wants to sustain his injuries, sure.”

“Bet you he’ll try stealing an Instant Health potion.”

“Not if he knows what’s best for him,” Logan snaps.

Janus smiles with too many teeth which isn’t to say he has too many teeth, just that normally his smiles are close-lipped. Logan scowls before ducking into their small shelter to try and get some rest.

The next two hours pass without trouble. Virgil takes his turn. The howling screech of an enderman startles Logan awake but just as quick, Virgil is peeking in on the party and waving the concern away with an ender pearl clutched in his fist.

“Didn’t wanna pass up the opportunity,” he whispers, before returning to his post.

Patton sets up for the last watch. Virgil makes Logan take the free bed, which doesn’t take much convincing seeing as he’s half-asleep already. Roman begins to toss and turn so Virgil sits on the ground beside him, reaches up, and holds his hand.

“Sap,” Janus says from the corner where he’s been making torches.

“Have you slept at all?” Virgil asks instead of taking the bait.

When Janus doesn’t answer, Virgil frowns. “How long has it been?”

Another round of silence.

“J, what the fuck? We don’t need phantoms on top of everything else!” Virgil raises his voice without meaning to. Logan stirs at the sound of it; he’s always been a light sleeper.

“Hush,” Janus hisses. They wait a few moments more until Logan has settled. “I will when we get back home. I’ve got at least one more safe night.”

Virgil’s glare sharpens but he doesn’t push any further. Janus goes back to his crafting but Virgil notices now how slowly he works. Instead of staring and letting his concern build, Virgil leans back and shuts his eyes, focusing on Roman’s warm hand in his.

Sunrise means a quick breakfast of bread and crisp apples. They share amongst themselves before Logan and Patton take down the lean-to. Janus returns to the top of the ravine, making sure to dispatch any mobs lurking in the shade of the trees. Virgil remembers the leads Patton had brought with him, for if they had come across any horses, and suggests tying Roman to one of them, just in case things go wrong on the swim up the waterfall.

Roman, ever full of bravado, insists he would be just fine on his own. Looks of concern and frustration come from his boyfriend and queerplatonic partner, respectively, and he quickly gives in without much fuss. Janus joins them again and offers to build a ladder back up, especially since there’s no short supply of wood; Logan disagrees, worried that it would take too long and they’d be caught out once more at nighttime.

Eventually, they do all get up and out of the ravine. Roman’s splint needs redoing now that it’s wet and heavy but afterwards, they are on their way home. He relies heavily on Patton and Virgil to help him, careful to not put too much weight on his injured foot; he hates needing so much help, but he supposes it’s mostly alright, what with Patton keeping him entertained with stories and Virgil teasing him about dumb little mistakes made in the past.

Slow going as as they are, they make it just as the sun is beginning to set. The lanterns are lit at the village they had set up nearby roughly a year ago and their neighbors are gathered at the bell for gossip and trade. Patton wants to swing by to say hello and offer some cake but Roman is really struggling beside him now.

“Oh, sweetpea, you must be so tired,” Patton murmurs, shifting so that he can take more pressure off of Roman. “I’m gonna get you the best dinner… And hot cocoa, too, how’s that sound?”

“We haven’t got a steady supply of cocoa beans yet,” Roman says without much conviction.

“I’ll cocoa bean anyone that tries to stop me,” Patton insists.

Virgil stifles a laugh behind his hand and pretends he didn’t hear the thinly veiled threat disguised as a pun. He makes a note to kick their search for a jungle into first gear and wonders if Janus would be up for a trip to the west. It is the least explored direction and their terribly empty maps remind them every day. In the meantime, he’ll help Patton to get Roman comfortable and settled. He makes sure Janus goes to bed that night, keeping him company until he’s well and truly deep in sleep.

After one last sweep of the perimeter, Virgil retires to his and Logan’s room. Logan is waiting up for him, reading by candlelight. Virgil changes into his night clothes and slides in under the covers. Logan is warm and, with a fond eye roll, compliant as Virgil tugs at his sleeve until he eventually puts his book away. Logan lays on his back with Virgil splayed half-across his chest; the sensation has always put Logan at ease, having his partner’s presence so physical and grounding and there.

“Will Roman be okay?” Virgil asks in a voice so small that Logan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Like Janus said, Roman has been through worse.” Logan hesitates but not long enough for either of them to actually start thinking about it. “As long as he is careful, which I’m sure Patton will help him be, he’ll recover in no time.”

The tension flows out of Virgil in one slow exhale. “Thanks, L.” He shuffles deeper into the blankets and Logan’s embrace. “Love you.”

“And I you,” Logan responds with a hum, pressing a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #prinxiety #analogical #ts deceit #dani writes #minecraft au #sanders sides #romantic royality #qpr prinxiety #romantic analogical

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happytroopers · 5 years ago

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A Knight in White Armor // pt. 3

Rex X Royal!Reader

nearly two years later, brought to you by the burning desire I’ve had to yell at the trade federation since I was 6 years old. I’m a SLUT for plitical drama and for Captain Rex

for those of you who are new here:

Part one Part Two Part three Part Four Coming Soon or possibly in two years.

Did i pull an all nighter to rewrite this bc tumblr deleteed it YES. An no, I don’t know why the formatting looks like that.

Uhhhm if I tagged you, it’s because you expressed interest recently so if you want me to leave you alone (or want to be included) lemme know.

So, taglist: @robotxtrash @mackstrut @clonewarsreturns @94pigeons @skdubbs and about ten other people who messaged me on anon lmao

Y’all know the drill, this sucks and its unedited blah blah b;ah

______________

A day and a half. That’s all you allowed yourself to wallow in self pity. After that, you forced yourself to remember that whoever sent that assassin only sent them because you were doing good work.

And once you reminded yourself of that, you were back in the spotlight like you’d never left. After you made some changes, mind you, like dismissing the maids they provided and bringing in your personal maids that you’d known since you were sixteen.Of course, Rex was by your side and more protective than he had been. With his formidable presence ever present, even the more hostile politicians were hesitant to get in your face. Yes, you were back, and more determined than ever to truly make a difference.

You were also grappling with other feelings. Feelings that you buried deep into your heart until you were alone. Ever since the first time he called by name, Rex had held a soft spot in your heart. You tried to be reasonable, tell yourself that he was only doing all these things because it was his job. He was only so protective because he was ordered to do so, only candid with you because you asked him to be, so on and so forth. Those things were easy to write off, to kill any hope of him returning your feelings.

But then, he’d go above and beyond his job. Listening to you complain about other politicians, offering you a steadying hand when you were going down steps in those cumbersome skirts you had to wear, laughing at something you said, staying with you if you felt uneasy at night, carrying food and water with him because you had an awful habit of forgetting to eat between engagements…. A particular memory that always turned your cheeks red was when you were posing for an official photo and your skirts got tangled up, before a maid could fix it, Captain Rex was on one knee expertly fluffing your skirt back out and laying your train flat. That certainly wasn’t his job. Those were harder to write off and any hope you previously squashed came back with a vengeance.

It was then you’d have to remind yourself it could never happen. On the off chance he did feel the same way, you knew that there had to be some terrible punishment- it probably fell under insubordinates. Additionally, no matter how persistent the butterflies were, you weren’t naive. You were a princess, royalty, top of the nobility, and you weren’t even the first born. It was only a matter of time before you were married off to satisfy some ally you’d never met before. You’d long since made peace with the fact you marriage would be arranged for the good of your people. As royalty, you sacrificed very few things and lived very fortunately, this was the price. Royals didn’t get true love. Besides, love was a bit melodramatic. You could content yourself with fluffy daydreams for the moment.

That being said, you hardly had time to day dream. Middle of week two (in the month of peace talks), and you were so busy you barely had time to think of anything but public policy, war treaties, and trade negotiation. Trade Negotiation being the first thing on your mind that evening as your maids flurried about, preparing you for that night’s engagement: an invitation from the trade federation to talk about your planet’s charters with them over a private dinner. You were reticent to accept the invitation, especially after Padme’s warnings about them. Even though you were young, you well remembered the siege and blockade of Naboo. But, after speaking to your advisors and parents (the reigning King and Queen), you decided to go. At the very least as a show of strength, and at worst to warn them off bothering your people.

Rex wasn’t all too happy with this dinner either. He’d heard of the trade federation blockade of Naboo from Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, and he’d read the HoloNet articles about the Blockade of the Pantoran Moon. Not to mention all rumors of kidnappings, Separatist ties, and assignation (attempts and successes) that surrounded the Trade Federation. He’d even heard rumors that the Trade Federation ordered a hit on your planet’s senator. Ultimately unsuccessful, but it didn’t make him feel good about you sharing a meal with them. Rex had a feeling that the Neimodians were just as slimy as they looked, and he made his opinion quite clear as he watched your maids assemble your look for the night.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to go. No one will think any less of you.” He assured you from his spot, leaning against the arm of the couch nearest you. Out of your sight, or at least they thought, (and without Rex paying attention), your maids shared a look, as if to say, did this soldier just address the princess by her first name?

You turned your head slightly towards him, but the maids quickly adjusted your posture, “They will, but it’s not about that, Rex,”

You paused, to let the maids know that you definitely saw the looks that time, they hurried back to their work so you continued, “I’m going so that they know that I won’t be bullied into a terrible deal for my people.”

Seemingly finished with your makeup, you watched as the oldest maid pressed your tiara into your hair. Pleased with your appearance, you stood straightening the skirt of the slip you were wearing (the youngest maid had tried to shoe Rex out, saying it wasn’t proper for him to see you like that before you assured her it was alright). They brought over the stiff, heavy, formal dress that would go over the slip, and unlaced the back. You held your arms up and allowed them to slip it over your head. Rex was still watching with an uncertain look in his eyes as they laced you up.

“They can threaten me all they want to, but I will not allow them to threaten my people because they think I’m too young and naive to notice.” You voice was firm, you hadn’t even raised it a decibel, but still commanded all the attention in the room. Finally, you turned to look at the Captain, and he finally understood.

While you always looked Royal, you generally weren’t overly fussy about your appearance, but tonight was different. If Rex understood your culture correctly, this was a modern, toned down take on traditional war paint and battle dress, what a princess or queen would wear in a time of war. You meant business tonight, more so than usual. There was no room for argument. Nodding, Rex slid his helmet on, “Then I’ll be right beside you the entire time, your highness.”

Once again, your maids shared a look, somehow using your formal title seemed more intimate than using your real name. Nevertheless, they finished off this look, quite proud of their work by attaching a long, dark, velvety cape to the shoulders of your dress with jewel encrusted clips that probably cost more than a starship. Finally, at the height of regality, you nodded to him and with a flourish of your cape you were out the door.

“Let’s be off then.”

__________

As it turned out, this dinner was not as private as you were promised. Having expected this, you enjoyed the look of frustrated shock when Senator Amidala entered the dining room. Rex nearly flinched as you took a sip of your wine, you’d been quite adamant in not having it tested for poisons.

(“If they’re stupid enough to poison me at their own table, let them dig their own graves.” You had told him, but this didn’t ease his mind. He didn’t trust these people, and Kix didn’t carry many anti-poisons with him.)

If you were worried about poison, you didn’t show it, only raising your glass to Lott Dodd, the republic representative of the Trade Federation. Since you were the only royal in attendance, you were sat at the end of the table with your host, Lott Dodd, on the other end, ten feet away. On your right, Padme, decked out in a tight, black dress with a large, jeweled neckpiece, sat confidently beside you. On your left however, there were two members of the technounion, and two other member of the trade federation. On the other side of Padme was a hologram of a Muun banking clansmen. Of course along the back wall were all of their security, mostly droids. Behind you and Padme, the walls were lined with Rex’s men and Padme’s own Captain Typho.

“I see you took the liberty to make this dinner not so private, I’m glad I always overdress.” You mused, eyebrow raised in challenge. As if wishing he’d tell Padme to leave.

“I could say the same thing about you, your highness.” Lott Dodd replied lowly with a sugary fake smile.

“The more the merrier, right?” You asked, flashing an equally as fake smile. The neimodian only nodded before taking a large gulp of his wine. If anything was to tell Rex how the rest of that evening would go, it was that interaction right there. As the first course was being served, you half listened to a member of the techounion, Trev, propose a partnership in the technounion and your planets Science Research Division and also his interest in your fuel reserves (which was suspicious all together because it was common knowledge that you planets top scientific priority was developing weapons and medical supplies/technology for the Grand Army of the Republic). Beside you, Padme was in an intense conversation about banking regulation with the Muun hologram. Rather quickly, this was brought to a halt as Lott Dodd gathered your attention,

“Princess, shall we discuss business now so we can get it out of the way?”

“Of course, I’d love to get it over with quickly.” You nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“I’m sure you read the earlier proposal I had delivered to you?” He asked, again you nodded but narrowed you eyes at you glass before lifting cold eyes to him. You could register the shock at your change in demeanor, so you just continued on.

“You mean the proposal to decrease the regulations on the good you import while you also increase the prices, and at the same time decrease the already low prices and taxes on the exports we sell to you?” You clarified, raising a defiant eyebrow at the representative. “I’m no economist, but I’m sure you know that a charter like that would crash our economy. We’ll have to renegotiate.”

“Perhaps our proposal was a bit heavy handed, surely we can find a way for it to work without resorting to unseemly measures. Young people like you don’t seem to realize how trying war time can be.” Lott Dodd tried to regain control of the situation without losing ground on his proposal, but you caught the way his brow ridge twitched and the hidden threat behind his words.

“Oh, like a blockade?” Senator Amidala couldn’t help but mutter into her glass. You breathed a laugh but didn’t comment, if the other guests noticed they didn’t either.

“Hmmm.” You hummed ignored the stammering of your host, instead turning towards the banker, “When money is involved, the banks always have an opinion, so tell me, what do you think of all this?”

The Muun was clearly uncomfortable with the sudden amount of attention on him, but cleared his throat before giving an obviously rehearsed answer, “The Banking Clan does not interfere with any business outside of our own, but no matter your decision if you should need a loan, the banking clan would be honored to work with you to draw one up.”

“How generous, and I’m sure you’ll be the first ones to hear if our economy does crash.” You mused, taking a sip of your wine as the banker gaped at you.

“I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.” He humphed, the blue hologram flickering. You offered a sweet smile.

“I’m sure you don’t.” The phrase was innocuous but the smirk on your face told everyone exactly what you meant. You even earned a chuckle masked as a cough from Rex behind you. Apparently, some of the other guests had had enough of you.

“Did your parents send you here just to mouth off?” One of the members of the technounion, the one you didn’t know, snapped, and the room went silent as you stared at him. You waited a moment longer than what would have been comfortable before laughing directly in the Skakoan’s face, or well, mask considering they wore those ridiculous suits.

Quieting yourself, you looked to the man who had snapped at you, not many were brave enough to openly insult you to your face, so you’d give him that,

“First of all, sorry I didn’t get your name,”

“It’s-“ He started but you just kept going.

“No, no, I didn’t ask it doesn’t matter, my parents didn’t send me. Since our senator is still recovering from an assassination attempt,” you paused again to flash a seemingly meaningless look at the Neimodian beside Dodd who flinched, before continuing, “Out of all my siblings and all the royal officials, I was appointed to come here, no, not to mouth off, you’re right, but to represent my planet’s wellbeing and interests. But mouthing off to people who give me dumb proposals sure is a bonus.”

The Skakoan stuttered for a moment before Lott Dodd drew your attention back to him, raising his voice and slapping a hand against the table, this caused Captain Rex to shoot his hand towards the holstered blaster on his hip. You simply reach back out of the other guests sight, not stopping until you hand found his armored knee, a silent show to let him go on. And go on he did.

“Princess (Y/L/N). I realize you're young, princess, but I’ll ask you to respect my guests.”

“Representative Dodd.” You mirrored, slapping the table lightly, "I’ll ask you to show me some respect. I have many drawbacks as a person, but my age isn’t one of them so I you insist on taunting me find something better. Furthermore, don’t assume I’m so young and naive to let you bully and trick me into something that will only benefit you.” “The princess is right, the senate won’t be pleased to hear about these contracts. If their economy crashes, the republic would lose its number one weapons and medical supplier.” Padme added before turning to the technounion member, “I’m sure the senate would also want to know what the technounion wants with their Science Division considering almost all their research is for the military. War time makes people paranoid, and I’d hate for anyone to assume anything too terrible”

Tension in the air was thick, and the trade federation was desperate to regain the upper hand. Feeling a storm coming on, you turned back to Rex and beckoned him down to you level.

He obliged as you whispered, “Could you move one of you men where they can get this whole table in the frame and tell them to video record until it’s over? I want to show my advisors exactly what was said and happened here tonight.”

Nodding, he set your plan into action as Lott Dodd tried a new approach, intimidation, “I’m not as radical as some, but I’m sure some in the federation will call for drastic measures if your planet doesn’t wish to compromise with us.”

“I’ve heard how well you compromise.” You challenged, before flicking your eyes around the table. The banking clansmen was listening intently and the Technounion members were glaring at you sharply from behind their goggles. These negotiations, if you could even call them that, were derailing. This time you voice wasn’t a challenge, it was firm, stern, an order. "Since this no longer concerns the rest of you, you may leave.”

The banker was the first to go, his hologram flickering out before your anger could be directed at him, Trev and his parter were next and they filed out with their security droids filing behind them. Padme gave you a look, and you nodded to her assuring her you’d be alright. With one last comforting hand on yours, she got up and gracefully exited but not before throwing one last glare at Dodd. Along the walls most of the droids had dispersed, so you decided to even the playing field. If he wanted to play the intimidation game, you’d play it, but you wanted him to be intimidated by you not your security forces.

Turning to Captain Rex, you loudly announced, “Captain, you and four of your men stay. That should be plenty to escort me back to my quarters when we’re finished. The rest can be dismissed.”

You could tell under his helmet his was not happy with your plan, so quietly you continued, “The trade federation is stupid, but not so stupid as to murder me right here. Besides, there’s maybe 5 droids-“

“6.” He corrected shortly.

“6 droids, you and your men should be more than capable of handling them if it comes to it, which it won’t.”

With a sigh, he carried out your orders and you watched as half the squad filed out before he returned to your side. With that done, you turned back to the three Trade Federation member that sat ten feet across from you.

Currently relaxed in your chair, you gave each of them a once over before adjusting your posture so you sat stick straight, elbows resting on the armrests but hands clasped in your lap, shoulders back and down, chest out, chin up, eyes narrowed. You managed to look down on them despite being ten feet away and a whole foot shorter than all of them. Captain Rex saw the change in your whole demeanor, you went from conversation to looking like a marble statue on a throne in the blink of an eye. He saw it long before he heard it in your voice which wasn’t far behind.

“Now, I sent them out so you could save face. I’ve shown you that kindness, you’re welcome.” Somehow even you voice had an edge to it, slightly lower than you usually spoke and had a certain coldness that he’d never heard from you. “With them gone, please, feel free to openly threaten my people. The propriety and pleasantries will keep us here all night, and I was hoping to enjoy better company this evening.”

Lott Dodd was stricken silent, so the shorter one next to him nodded fervently,

“Of course, your majesty, I’m positive we can wrap this up quickly if you-“

He was interrupted by Dodd snapping back to his senses, “If you agree to our proposals, I’m sure we can work out something for your people.”

“Stop calling them proposals, they are demands. They are ransom demands of my people which you haven’t even taken hostage yet.” You remarked, angry words but an icily calm voice.

“I’m not as radical as some of my fellow Tradesmen, but if you insist on bringing it into the conversation, blockades of planets that don’t meet the requirements in our charters are well within our senatorial rights. If you refuse, your planet can be blockaded and sieged until we work something out.”

“I understand I have two options.” You began.

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” The third tradesmen smiled, but you weren’t finished yet.

“First, I could sign this charter right now and by the time I return home, my economy would crash, people would starve, citizens would riot, and then, look at that, we’d have to take a loan from the banking clans to stimulate our economy. This lets my people starve and suffer. Second, I could say no to this ridiculous offer and you think you’ll blockade my planet which will again let my people starve and suffer.”

“I do not think, I know.” Lott nodded, finally speaking some truth. This time you shook your head.

“No, you think. First of all, if you blockaded out planet and kept the Grand Army of the Republic from getting it’s much needed supplies during war time under Marshall law- which renders that funny senatorial right of yours null- they have every legal right take care of you for us.” You paused, forcing a bittersweet tone, “War Times can be trying for all of us.”

“Things work so slow in the senate, that could take months. Your people could be with out food and supplies for months, and when politicians, even royals, fall out of favor, well I sure you remember last weeks dreadful incident.”

He was referring to the assassination attempt, there was a twinge of anxiety when you recalled the night but you pushed it down, “I find, actually, that politicians, even royals, are in most danger when they piss off other politicians. But I’m sure you don’t know anything about that, Representative?”

He cleared his throat, “Of course not, princess, regardless of public opinion, a blockade, even a short one, can do untold damage to a planet’s resources. I’m a humanitarian and I’d hate to see your people suffer- starvation, disease, shelter crises, riots… I hate to see that happen because you wouldn’t sign a treaty with us.”

That was the tipping point, you’d heard and seen enough.

Standing so fast, you tipped over your chair you were quick to cut into the Neimodian, “Even if the military doesn’t come to our aid, if you haven’t noticed every planet you’ve blockaded in the last decade have been crucially underdeveloped weaponry wise. That is not the case of my planet or my people, we will not be afraid to fight back. If you blockade our planet, we will be all too happy to use our ground-to-upper-atmosphere plasma cannons to shoot you out of the sky. So, please, I invite to you blockade my planet, it’ll give me great joy to see you efforts wasted.”

“Secondly, you think I’m so young that I don’t understand the thinly veiled threats on my life? The references to assassins? I’m not a senator, I’m royalty and a threat on my life is considered an act of war. And believe me, my planet will wage a war on the Trade Federate rage and determination, the likes of which, you very well have not seen before.” Words fell from your lips like venom, and though your voice was raised it was a controlled form a shouting that resonated through the whole room, and was honestly much more intimidating than if you were screaming. But you weren’t done yet.

“But, go ahead, threaten me and my life all you want. I simply do not care, but if you threaten my people with suffering like that again,” You stopped, hand falling to the table top and finding its target as your fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife, picking it up and burying it into the polished wood surface, "I will execute you where you stand by my own hand. I don’t relish in the death of others, but unlike others present, I don’t hire assassins, I’ll get my hands dirty for my people. And yes, not only is that a threat, that is, by my family’s name, a promise.”

You paused to take a breath, ready to continue laying into them but Rex placed a a warning hand on your shoulder as if to say, you’ve made your point, stop while you’re ahead. Nodding, though he hadn’t said anything, you observed your audience who were all staring at you in both awe and slight fear. Breathing slightly heavy, you took one long and slow breath.

“Now, you better be grateful I’m the person they chose to send because I’m far more understanding than any of my siblings. They would go ahead and cut all charters with the trade federation right this moment, but since I’m much more forgiving… First thing tomorrow morning, you will get a call from my planet’s chief economist and head financial advisors. With them, you’ll devise a new charter that benefits both sides, and I wouldn’t get too greedy considering how tonight went,” You ordered, eyes narrowing in on Lott Dodd, “Please do remember what I told you tonight, all of it.” With that, you turned naturally (re: purposely dramatically) throwing your cape behind you as you went. Your fury was only punctuated by the wind off your cape hitting the Tradesmen who only watched you stride away cape billowing and soldiers marching behind you. _________

Later, that same evening, you were pacing the length of your quarters while Padme reviewed the video you gotten from one of the troopers, Jesse his name was. You’d long since abandoned the cape, formal dress, hair pieces, tiara, and gotten rid of most of your makeup, leaving you in a lounge dress you deemed fit for company. Afterwards, you dismissed your maids for the night- it’d be a while before you could even think about sleep.

Captain Rex had gone to talk to the general’s about tonight’s events which left you alone with the Nubian Senator, not that you minded. You’d considered her a friend long before these peace talks, considering how close you were in age, she was only a handful of years older than you. Even with her there, you were still going over the earlier events. Even though your parents and advisors had already seen and approved your actions, now that the righteous anger had faded you were left with nervous anxiety.

As the video clip ended, Padme looked over to you (you had paced behind the couch she was on) and tried to assure you, “Some may say that you got a little carried away, but other than that I see nothing wrong with this.”

You only hummed in response as you turned and crossed the room again, “If you’re worried about the senate, the proposals were ridiculous and the trade federation is on thin ice after their Pantoran scandal, so the senate won’t look twice at this.”

This time you nodded as you turned on your heel, but this time, as you strutted past her, she caught you by the wrist and pulled you onto the couch with her. (Part of your head reminded you of how you’d basically put yourself on Rex’s lap to escape Kix’s disinfectant- on that very couch. But you cleared that funny memory before you even got the chance to blush.)

Despite her approval, the approval of every high advisor, and even your own parent’s approval, something still didn’t feel right but you couldn’t find the right word for it.

Fortunately, Padme seemed to sense this and put a comforting hand on top of yours, “I know how you feel. The feeling that you still have more you want to say, the feeling that you said too much, anxiety about the enemies you might have created, anger that they threatened your people’s safety, frustration you couldn’t do more, fear you didn’t do enough. I had the same feeling with the trade federation years ago, and I wish I had the confidence to talk to them like that, then. And if all this gets out and into the media, your people will be proud to see their princess standing up for their rights. You have nothing to worry about.”

Just like that, she put that feeling into words and somehow that made it easier to deal with. With a small smile, you took her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you, Padme, your friendship means more than you know.” You admitted, she returned the gesture.

“For the look on Dodd’s face, I should be thanking you.” She joked to ease the mood, you remembered every single look on his face, and she was right, worth it. To your surprise, she actually leaned forward and hugged you. Returning the embrace, you relished in the touch, not remembering the last time you’d been hugged like this, it was nice. When she pulled away, she smiled again, “Now, you should get some rest, tomorrow is another mass peace discussion and you can’t walk into that with a tired mind.”

With that, she smiled once more before turning to leave. On her way through the door, she was met by Captain Rex who gave her a quick salute as he carried a small tray in. Once the door slid shut, the captain set the tray down on the table nearest you before plucking off his helmet.

“You didn’t eat much at the dinner before it derailed, so I thought you might be hungry. I asked your maid to find something suitable for you- all I had were ration bars and I’ll barely eat them.” He explained. You weren’t hungry at all, but you still thanked him sweetly for his thoughtfulness as you picked at the plate so it wouldn’t be for nothing. This level of thoughtfulness wasn’t part of his job, you thought to yourself before correcting that line of thought. Instead, you imagined the butterflies in your stomach being fumigated, watching him as he did his routine safety checks.

As if he could feel your eyes on him, he simply asked without turning around, “Something wrong?”

Your eyes immediately fell back to the plate, critically analyzing the color and texture of every piece of fruit in the fancy spread, “No, no, I was just worried about what happened tonight but Padme very helpful.”

“She’s a good woman, especially for a politician.” He nodded, checking the balcony doors. Even though you always encouraged him to speak candidly, sometimes his honesty caught you by surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh at his distaste for politicians, a subject that had come up before.

“Yes, she is. And a good friend.” You sighed, picking at the side salad as you shamelessly continued observing him as he checked your closets next. He was tense, something was definitely bothering him. So this time, it was your turn, “What about you, Rex, something wrong?”

Though it was only for a millisecond, you caught that look of I wish I kept my helmet on and the side glance he threw at it where it sat on corner of your bed. Sans helmet, it was much easier to read his emotions, even though he was fairly good at hiding them. You could see him debating on whether or not he wanted to tell you. And for a moment, you feared you’d upset him- you rarely gave firm orders, maybe he was upset you gave him orders at dinner?

Finally he looked over to you and ended your spiraling thought process, “Brave and Impressive as it was, the next time you wish to shoot off like that, please give me some notice. Further more, please keep in mind that one day you might yell at someone who carries a blaster.”

Oh, there was that honesty again. You felt a little hurt for a second until you caught his eyes, and then you understood his plan. Say something just harsh enough to distract you from what was really wrong. You’d play along, for now.

“Well, I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone threaten’s my planet’s security, Captain.” You nodded playfully, abandoning the picked over plate to move to your vanity. Scrubbing off the remainder of the makeup, you watched him move from your closet to the floor to ceiling windows, using the wall panel to close the blinds for the night.

“You know your security is my top priority, (Y/N).” He shot you a glance, half playful, half serious. You relaxed a bit at your name, it made everything less formal and stiff. He seemed to sense this too, so he just continued, “I thought Jesse was going to piss himself when you sassed that banker. We had a closed circuit conversation going during the dinner.”

He explained, and you just smiled taking your hair of of the braid and pulling a brush through it. Through the mirror, you saw his helmet. You’d often wondered about the sound proofing they hand, and now you had your answer.

“Glad I could be of entertainment.” You teased as he disappeared into your bathroom. He emerged shortly afterwards with a small smile.

“Hardcase asked me if you carried a blaster, apparently you seem like ’the type’, whatever that means. He assure me that ’the type’ is a high compliment, apparently Senator Amidala is also ’the type’.” He continued. You always enjoyed hearing him talk about his men, he obviously cared a lot about them, even if they drove him crazy sometimes.

“Well, I think I should know how to fire a blaster before I make a habit of carrying one around.” You thought aloud as you went through the process of putting serums and creams on your skin, a ritual usually reserved for your maids but you were just as capable. Out of your eye sight, Rex cast you a funny look before remembering normal children weren’t brought up learning to assemble, aim, fire, clean, and disassemble every type of firearm the military had access to.

Instead, he offered, “If this place had the facilities, I could teach you.”

You both knew it didn’t, so you just smiled, “Or perhaps, I’ll just try not to get shot.”

“Yes, that works too.” He nodded with a grin, “Well, rooms all clear so you’re free to go to sleep whenever you want to. Unless you need anything else, I need to speak to my men before dismissing them to get some rest.”

He was already walking away by the time you called back to him, “Actually, Rex, before you go, you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

He stood wide eyed for a moment before you explained yourself, “Rex, it doesn’t take a Jedi to see that you're tense.”

He stayed silent for a moment longer that you felt comfortable with, so you hid the hurt in your voice with, “Alright, if you really don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Goodnight, Rex.”

But just as you could read his emotions, he had gotten rather good at finding what you really meant from what you said. He could easily hear the disappointment in your voice, so tried to remedy it with a rushed, “No it’s not that, it’s just that I-“

He paused again, so you turned around to fully face him and prodded him to continue, “You what?”

“I’ve... developed some unprofessional feelings during this assignment… for you. And, please don’t take this as a negative light on my men or the Republic. I would never act on it, or let it interfere with this job. I’m not expecting you to do anything or reciprocate anything,” He paused to look away, “You’ve made it very easy to forget who you are, who I am. Made it easy to forget that even on the impossible chance you reciprocate these feelings, that we could never be anything more than what we are right now. But tonight, seeing you command a room like that, as Brave, and amazing, and stunning as that was to see, it was a painful reminder of every reason why it would never work. So, I didn’t want to tell you because it would only hurt the two of us more. ”

You barely heard the last part over the pounding in your ears, sweaty palms balling up your skirt- he was right, knowing but not being able to act on it, especially hearing it from his lips, hurts worse than wondering. He took your silence as the only answer he need as he turned to leave again.

“I, uh, understand if I’ve offended you or made you uncomfortable. So if you’d rather not see me anymore, I can send someone else to be your personal escort for the remainder of this assignment. Just send a maid to tell me by morning.” He instructed stiffly before the door swooshed open. It took a moment for everything to process, but then, before you could stop yourself, you bolted off after him. Catching him by the wrist, you pulled him back into your quarters. It took a moment to gather your thoughts, but after an awkward pause of you just holding his wrist, you stammered, “That won’t be necessary, Rex, because, these feelings you have, they, uh, don’t bother me because, well, because I’ve felt the same way for a while now.”

For a singular moment, you allowed yourself to forget about your responsibilities. Allowed yourself to think like a normal young woman and be happy you just found out the man you fancied returned you affection, and in that moment that regular young woman threw her arms around his neck and hugged him like her life depended on it. Felt his chin stubble against her face and how his armor poked the softer parts of her body. Slowly, he brought his arms around her waist and held her there, silently enjoying the touch for a long as she would allow herself.

When you pulled away, Rex subconsciously kept a hand on your hip as you looked up to him and pressed one tentative kiss to his cheek- all you dared to do. This time you pulled away and put a bit more distance between you and him and wrapped your arms around yourself to keep from reaching out to him- any closer and you weren’t sure you would say what needed to be said. In the pause, you reminded yourself of every reason you weren’t that regular young woman.

For a moment, you stared at the Captain with sad eyes truly debating if you had to stop yourself. Firmly, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities, but Rex already knew you had made up your mind. Still, he let you speak, knowing it was more for you than for him.

“I’m sorry, but you were right. Even though we share these feelings, nothing can come of it- we both have responsibilities.” At first you tried to keep you voice clear, as if you were addressing the public, but that didn’t work so you switched back to you normal tone, softer and just for him, “Rex, I don’t even want to know the punishment for this, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me. So, you’re right let's just end this before we both get hurt, and just carry on as we were before, right, Rex?”

You’d never asked for guidance, and Rex considered being selfish, but he knew he couldn’t do that to you. You were asking because you needed him to tell you that you were doing the right thing, and if you needed his strength he’d give it to you.

“Of course, we’ll carry on and get through this just like we have been.” He assured you, which even though you knew it was the right thing, it was the exact opposite of what you wanted to hear. Rex turned to leave after a quiet goodnight and this time you let him.

“I just never thought you‘d be-“ You started with a sad smile, but the door cut you off, Captain Rex never even heard you over the door closing, separated the two of you physically as you had just done metaphorically, you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing though, “the first person I loved.”

You comm unit beeped on your nightstand, Rex’s voice immediately followed, “I’m sorry did you need something, I thought I heard you say something.”

You quickly answered, forcing a nonchalant tone, “No, just talking to myself. Goodnight, Rex.”

“Goodnight, your highness.”

Somehow that stung worse than ending something that never had its chance. But that’s the price of royalty.

#captain rex x reader #knight in white armor

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moiraineswife · 4 years ago

Text

Drawn In - A Witsnah Fic

IT’S TIME FOR NEW CONTENT.

Title: Drawn In

Summary: Pre Rhythm of War: Jasnah and Wit's first kiss. Canon compliant. It's soft and it's fluffy and a little dramatic in places (bc Wit) but it's what they deserved!!!

Teaser: 'Counter to the vicious rumours and harsh jibes, Jasnah was still human. She did not experience lust the same as others that she knew. But she was also not a frozen husk of a woman, devoid of need, or want for companionship and comfort.

A part of her longed for this connection with another person, this intimacy, this want that she increasingly found only with him.

He was dangerous, yes, but he made her feel safe. He made mock of everyone around him, but for her he made sense, and certainty, of things she’d never thought to understand. He was a roamer, a drifter, a wanderer, untethered and bound. But he was hers.'

Link: ao3

Commission Link: Have me write other cosmere characters

“So Investiture will be found on planets with one Shard or more?” Jasnah said, speaking the words aloud as she wrote them shorthand in her notebook.

Conversing with Wit was always a stimulating process. He seemed to view each conversation as something of a duel. The chance to spar, to test his opponent, feel them out, offer them new challenges, new quips that required responses, new information that needed to be processed, new barbs to return in kind. It was invigorating.

Lately, they had been spending more and more time together. He was the Queen’s Wit, and as such he accompanied her to most public gatherings she attended, as was proper.

Something that was decidedly less proper, by Alethi standards, was the amount of time they were now spending together alone behind closed doors.

Nothing untoward had happened between them. Not yet. At times she wondered if she had fabricated the impression that it could. Then she would catch a glint in his eye, the edge of a smile curving across his clever mouth, the way his eyes sometimes darted to her lips as they spoke.

There was flirtation, too. Gentle, for the most part. He was not from this world, but he knew the Alethi well enough never to push too hard or too far. Even if she was not, strictly speaking, Vorin, the society they played within was, and there were rules that had to be abided to.

Outside of that, she had never been one for flowery compliments, or overt, blunt attempts at seduction. They felt hollow and insincere to her, not to mention distastefully brusque. It reminded her of Amaram’s entitled insistence in his pursuit of her. She did not like being made to feel she was a hog bound at the end of a rope to lure the waiting chasmfiend.

She preferred something altogether more subtle and cerebral than the usual Alethi courting methods. Someone who would dare to draw close to her, to tease at implications of what might, to pique her mental curiosity, stimulate her mind, who worked to connect with her, truly, on the most important levels.

Wit...Wit was dangerously skilled at that. And he seemed to know it was what she wanted, seemed to read the eagerness, and the intent, in her responses.

Indeed, she had considered courting him. Truly courting him, and allowing him to court her.

So much so that she had discussed it with Ivory. He was the only person whose view on the matter she considered worth taking. Had he protested, she would have heeded him, and regardless of how invigorating she found Wit, it would have gone no further.

However, Ivory, like her, was intrigued. He felt it would be a ‘good new avenue to explore for her personal growth’. She didn’t view it quite as logically as that. There was some feeling behind her own interest. More than some, if she was honest.

It was late, now. They were tucked away together, deep in her chambers of Urithiru. If anyone heard of it there would be a great scandal. She was, as far as Vorin society was concerned, a single woman. She would be expected to be chaperoned, to ensure Wit didn’t try anything inappropriate with her.

Wit seemed to consider the very definition of what each people he visited ‘inappropriate’ to be his own personal playground. He liked to establish himself within the boundaries of propriety, then slowly test, and push, and pry at them. And occasionally set them on fire and watch them burn with barely restrained glee.

He had revealed much to her in the time he’d spent as her Wit. She’d met him before, of course, and guessed at his nature and origins, but she had coaxed more concrete answers from him now.

He was an ancient creature, unlike anything she, or anyone else upon Roshar, had met before. He had visited other worlds, had witnessed their destruction, as well as the birth of the Shards that now held sway in the Cosmere at large.

The knowledge he held within his mind was incredible, incomparable.

The Heralds had been a revelation to her, as a dedicated historian. They were history come alive, walking, talking, sharing their truth with her.

Wit was the same. Yet so much more. For he was the living history of not only her planet, but many more besides.

Jasnah relished this time they spent alone together. Speaking with him, learning the secrets he carried, the keys to understanding her powers, and the powers of Roshar and beyond.

He seemed to thrive upon her questions, as much as she thrived upon asking them. He was a showman, she knew, a performer. He liked to have an audience to play to. He had stories in his soul, and his purpose was to give them to others, as he felt was appropriate.

“Quite correct,” he replied, absently, not looking at her but making some note on the papers he had propped on his legs.

He was lounging back in his chair, boots up on her desk, which she permitted when they were alone together. If that was his comfort, she would not complain. She was not Dalinar, with military discipline drilled into her. She would not chide a man for sitting as he would in a moment of private companionship.

There was a stack of parchment balanced on his raised thighs. She suspected he was taking his own notes on their conversation. He had done so before, after she had made some observation he’d actually found original and interesting enough to write down.

She hadn’t thought, after all his years of life, that she would be able to provide him with anything he had not already experienced from someone else. It seemed that she had been wrong, and that he found her as intoxicating and stimulating as she found him.

She didn’t object to him writing, either. She found the tradition of forbidding a person from their potential passions or interests based upon some arbitrary concept like gender a foolish prohibition.

Although, not having to deal with men in the hallowed spaces of her research had been refreshing, at times. Excluding a rough half of a population's minds from any topic was ridiculous, she felt.

Besides, Wit had learned to read and write long before Rosharans had even thought it unseemly. He was beyond such things. Indeed, some days he’d confessed to her he was beyond such things as gender.

“And it can exist in multiple states?” she continued, pushing her thoughts back to the topic of Investiture, stopping them wandering down avenues far darker, and more mysterious, in regards to her and her Wit, “As a gas, such as the mists you described upon Scadriel,” she had to glance at another notebook to check the name of the planet. Wit nodded vaguely, “As a metal,” she said, “Like our Shardblades,” another nod, “Or as a liquid, like that gathered at the Well of Ascension.”

“Indeed,” he said, making another few marks with his pen, still not looking at her.

She didn’t mind that, either, but she did lean over to peer at his paper to see just what he was so engrossed in.

She was surprised to see that he wasn’t writing at all. Instead, he was sketching, with delicate movements of a charcoal pencil he must have filched from her desk drawers while she’d been occupied. It was a rather impressive, and rather detailed, rendition of her.

Jasnah as he saw her. Her eyes alive, focused on her work, hair unbound, cascading around her shoulders and down her back. Fingers deftly making some notation. Her face beautifully sculpted by sweeping lines of black against the tan parchment.

It was a very different style from Shallan’s, reminiscent of the drawings he had given her to help identify the Heralds. It was less focused on realism, imprinting every aspect of a moment captured in time, and more stylistic. Obviously his work.

There was...A care to his movements, and such an intimacy to his creation that, absurdly, she found herself having to fight down a blush.

“That’s beautiful,” he murmured, glancing up at her, making swifter, surer strokes with his pencil, “If you’d just hold that pose for a moment more, my dear,” he said, as if this was the purpose of their meetings together.

“I’m not supposed to be posing, Wit,” she said, composing herself, forcing herself to sound queenly and proper. And perhaps overcompensating, by the flicker of the smirk that he gave her. “I’m supposed to be learning. From you, I might add.”

“We’re both old enough and ugly enough to do more than one thing at once, I think,” he replied blandly.

Then he stopped and looked up at her, a faint glint in his eyes.

“I do apologise,” he said, putting a hand to his chest and giving her a slight bow, without removing his feet from her desk, “I forgot to whom I was speaking for a moment.”

He reached out and deftly slid a knuckle under her chin, angling her face more towards the pool of light that shone from the goblet of spheres on her desk.

“You’re not quite what I should define ‘old’ just yet,” he said, the smile pulling apparently irresistibly at his lips.

“Wit,” she said, rolling her eyes, using the motion of turning back to her notes to cover the slight shiver that had pulsed through her at the intensity of his attention upon her a moment before.

“No, please,” he said, cupping her chin gently between his fingers and turning her back to face him once more. “I’m almost finished,” he said, almost breathless, intent, “You can spare me a moment, surely? For the sake of art, Jasnah.”

“You know I don’t care over much for art, Wit,” she said, though she did not pull away from him this time, drawn in to the faint glimmer in his eyes, the plea in his tone.

His touch was strangely electrifying. As if there was Stormlight in his fingertips, sparking between them where his body met hers. The smallest of connections, yet the broadest of implications contained within such a simple gesture.

“I know,” he said, with a dramatic sigh, “One of your very few failings, Brightness. We all must have at least one, I’m told. Except me of course.”

“Of course,” she returned, rolling her eyes again, even as she found herself suddenly, dangerously, drawn in to those bright, sharp blue eyes of his.

“There’s just...Something wrong,” he said, cocking his head to one side, studying every line of her face.

“Oh?” she said, feeling a spike of alertness breaking through the fog of her intoxication.

“Yes,” he said, frowning, “Something not quite right. I think it’s your mouth.”

“My mouth?” she repeated, confused, until she followed his gaze down to his sketch of her.

“Mm,” he agreed vaguely, nodding, “Your lips have such a precise, sculpted quality to them,” he murmured, his thumb rising from her chin and tracing ever so tenderly over them.

She had to restrain herself from closing her eyes and leaning in to him. It had been a long time since she had allowed anyone to touch her as intimately as this. It had been a long time since she had wanted anyone to touch her as intimately as this.

“I don’t think I’ve managed to capture it correctly,” he said, mirroring the motions he was making against her skin on the parchment, shaping her mouth more precisely.

Lines of flesh and lines of charcoal, and breathless daring held together in the stillness between his words, neither of them moving, neither so much as breathing through them. Held. Captivated. Connected.

“That is a shame,” she said, finally, forcing herself to get some words out.

She should draw away. She should put a stop to this. Should direct them back to their studies. This was more than he had ever dared with her before, further than he had ever pushed his teasing flirtation and gentle courting. She should not allow it. He was dangerous. The pull she felt to him was dangerous. The smart, the logical, thing to do was to walk away. To halt this before it began.

She didn’t.

She didn’t want to, Storm it. Her world had ended, and she now struggled in the muck, and blood, and ash that remained to see what she could salvage. It was cold, hard, lonely work. As it had been for all those years she’d worked alone, in shadows, unseen, unwanted, untouched.

Counter to the vicious rumours and harsh jibes, Jasnah was still human. She did not experience lust the same as others that she knew. But she was also not a frozen husk of a woman, devoid of need, or want for companionship and comfort.

A part of her longed for this connection with another person, this intimacy, this want that she increasingly found only with him.

“Perhaps,” he said, then paused, licking his lips, almost as though he was nervous. Do it a part of her willed him, say it. Please. “Perhaps a closer look?” he murmured.

She nodded, expectant. But when he slid from his chair and cradled her face in his hands, kneeling in front of her, he only traced the shape of her mouth with a tip of his finger, leaving her disappointed.

Yet she could see the want in his deep eyes, the gentle intrigue, the spark of daring that had led him to reach out and put his hands on her as he had tonight. With far more intimacy and familiarity than he’d ever risked before.

“Wit,” she said quietly, dislodging one of his fingers.

His eyes flicked to hers, and she felt her heart fluttering in her chest, as if she were an awkward teenager, fumbling into her first exploration of romance.

She forced herself under control, and made sure her voice was level when she said, “Do you want to kiss me?”

He blinked once, startled, then a smile spread across his lips, tentative, still, as if a part of him wondered she might be asking so she could put an end to those thoughts.

But he nodded, “I do, Your Majesty. Most improper thoughts for a Wit to harbour for his queen, I admit.”

“More improper still if they are reciprocated,” she said very quietly, watching his smile flare in his eyes at that.

“Indeed,” he said, now sounding almost breathless, as if he could not quite believe what was happening.

This feeling was likewise mutual.

“If you want to kiss me, Wit,” she said, “Perhaps you should stop dancing around it, and just do it.”

He held himself, suspended by shock, for a single heartbeat. Then he moved, surging towards her like a highstorm’s flood. One hand cupping her cheek, guiding her, the other sliding deft fingers deep into her thick hair.

Then his mouth was on hers, finally, and she was closing her eyes and sinking into him, and he was moving gently against her. Drawing away for a beat, heavy lidded eyes meeting hers, seeking approval, which she gave. Then again, his lips against hers, heat pulsing between them like a freshly infused gemstone.

“Ah. Yes. That helped,” he said, smiling softly at her, making to turn back to his sketch, as if that had been the only purpose of their embrace.

“Yes,” she agreed quietly, “I think that it did.”

Her tone held him in place and he bit his lip, giving her a small half-smile, no longer keeping up the joke of his sketch. Indeed, he let it slip from his lap, the pencil dropped from uncaring fingers, his attention focused entirely on her now.

“I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to allow me to do that,” he said, still sounding a little breathless, though Stormlight should have dealt with any purely physical exertion.

“I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to try,” she admitted, her fingers stroking absently at an out of place curl of black hair at his forehead.

Wit smiled more broadly at that, taking her hand and gently brushing the knuckles against his lips, “I did promise you that I would never leave your questions answered.”

He leaned in for a second kiss but she pulled back, frowning, “You leave my questions unanswered all the time, Wit.”

“I do not!” he said, affronted, placing a hand over his chest.

She gave him a flat look, “You disappeared for three weeks last month. Upon your return I asked you where you had been and you told me that you had ‘gone fishin’,” she said, badly mimicking the accent he’d used.

He smiled and rubbed noses with her, which was the last thing she’d expected, and startled her so much she almost missed his reply.

“Technically, my dear, that was an answer," he said, smiling innocently up at her.

She just stared at him, unimpressed.

Wit raised a finger, “I promised you I would give you answers. I said absolutely nothing about those answers being of any use to you.”

Jasnah sighed, then kissed him again. That seemed to take him by surprise, which was pleasing. She found herself smiling against his mouth, and he against hers, and they broke apart, both laughing softly, unable to maintain the kiss.

“So” Wit said quietly, his eyes flickering up from her lips to meet her gaze, “This is something we do now, is it?”

“I assumed when you said that you wanted to kiss me, that implied more than once,” she replied with a small sniff.

Wit smirked at her, “Rather presumptuous of you, isn’t that, Your Majesty?” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her in a way only he could get away with doing.

“Not if I’m right,” she said evenly, “And I am, aren’t I?”

Wit grinned at her, “This is one of things about you I’m so inordinately fond of, Jasnah.”

“My ‘unfettered, unyielding, and quite boundless arrogance’?” she asked, smirking slightly at the memory.

Wit paused, then cocked his head and said, “Ruthar?”

She inclined her head, confirming that suspicion. His grin broadened.

“If you’re right, I don’t think that’s arrogance. I think it’s justified confidence in oneself in that circumstance,” he said, musing.

“So I am right, then?” she said, feeling a ridiculous flutter of nervousness as she asked the question, as if he might now turn around and reject her, after everything.

Wit stroked her cheek with his knuckles and said quietly, “Given that I’ve been thinking about nothing but kissing you again since last we stopped I’d say that yes, your hypothesis has some merit.”

“I thought I already told you what you should do if you want to kiss me,” she replied, “I am not fond of repeating myself, Wit, you know this.”

“I do apologise, my Queen,” Wit breathed, already leaning in, the words pressed against her lips a moment before his mouth met hers again.

When he drew back again, Wit cupped her face between both hands, gazing up at her, intent, and said quietly, “This is what you want? I am what you want?”

“Yes, I believe so,” she replied composedly, “I have already come to the conclusion that this is a mostly appropriate course of action to pursue.”

Wit raised an eyebrow at her and she actually blushed, turning away from him, feeling ridiculous. She had taken charge earlier, had all but commanded him to kiss her, but now she was stumbling around him like a teenager who had never so much as had another person hold her safehand?

“I am not accustomed to this kind of conversation,” she admitted, trying to reassert herself, though feeling horribly awkward at the same time, “It has never been my forte.”

He just shuffled in a little closer, and she realised that he was still kneeling on the floor in front of her while she sat primly at her desk. Storms. What a ridiculous man.

She stood up then said, “Come, let’s sit somewhere more comfortable, if we’re to have this talk now.”

Wit stood up as well, but put a gentle hand on her arm, “We don’t have to talk about anything right now,” he said, “It was a kiss. Which may turn into more kisses. Or it may not. We don’t have to define anything just yet, if you aren’t ready for that.”

She stared at him incredulously.

“Did you hit your head on something as you were standing?” she demanded.

He blinked, confused.

“Have you forgotten entirely who I am?" She went on, "I can’t think why else you would say something so ridiculous to me.”

He snorted with laughter at that.

“Of course, of course,” he said, waving a hand, “How foolish of me, to attempt to put a woman at ease and remind her she’s under no obligation to me because of a single kiss we shared in the heat of a moment.”

Jasnah sighed again and rubbed her forehead, wincing.

It had been some time since she’d had to navigate a romantic relationship and she...Well she hadn’t been exactly good at this to begin with.

She opened her mouth, but Wit just put a finger to her lips and spared her the trouble of making an even larger storming fool of herself.

“It’s quite alright, my dear,” he said, eyes twinkling in a way that she found, frustratingly, both irritating and enticing all at once, “In fact it’s rather refreshing. It’s the apocalypse, after all, we haven’t time to waste with pointless pleasantries and empty reassurances. Lead on, your Majesty.”

Still grinning, he slid his hand into hers and allowed her to draw him over to the reclining couch she had set up on the opposite side of the room to her study desk. A place for more relaxed reading or meditation.

They both settled themselves, Wit still smirking at her, and she withdrew her hand from his and clasped it in her lap, not looking at him.

“So,” Wit said, leaning in, and raising his eyebrows suggestively, “You’ve, let me make sure I get this correct,” he cleared his throat, and his already deep voice lowered even further as he said in a breathy, exaggerated, voice, “‘Come to the conclusion that I am a mostly appropriate course of action to pursue’ have you?”

She stared at him flatly, and in direct counter to his hyperbolic seduction, which had intensified to the point that he was now fluttering his eyelashes at her, replied as matter-of-factly as she could, “Indeed. Ivory and I have already discussed it together at some length.”

That made him sit up, suddenly dropping the act, which surprised her, as she’d expected him to drag at least a few more minutes of torment out of it.

“You spoke to Ivory about us?” he said, in normal tones again.

“Of course,” she said, frowning slightly, unsure why he thought this so worthy of remarking upon, “Any relationship I am involved in will directly impact upon him. It was only right that he be allowed a say in it.”

“You wish to embark upon a relationship with me?” Wit repeated, a little dazed, as though she’d just swung a heavy weight into the side of his head.

“Yes, Wit,” she said, then narrowed her eyes and drew away from him, “Unless you are only interested in a physical distraction with me,” she added, feeling suddenly cold at the prospect, “In which case this ends here, with no further conversation required on the matter.”

“No,” Wit said, quickly, his voice gentle and reassuring.

He reached out and took her hand to stop her retreating from him. When she hesitantly allowed this, he squeezed it and scooted closer, bumping his shoulder against hers in a manner that he apparently saw as affectionate.

"Not at all, Jasnah,” he said, shaking his head. Then he paused and added, “The kissing was very pleasant, I must admit. But there is more here, Jasnah, much more.”

He met her eyes, and there was a depth to him he had rarely allowed her to see there. Knowledge, and history, and life and all of it focusing entirely upon her and this moment. It was almost overwhelming.

She nodded slowly, running her thumb absently back and forth on the top of his hand, “It has been some time since I have connected with someone the way I have with you these past months,” she confessed quietly.

Despite the fact that she had kissed him mere minutes before, despite admitting she had spoken with Ivory about him, despite the fact she’d all but told him that she wished to embark on a relationship with him...That revelation made her feel suddenly vulnerable. Almost to the point that she instinctively withdrew, before he saw, before he could use it as a weak point to hurt her.

But something in him held her there. Like a Windrunner balanced on a surge, suspended above a chasm, unable to fall, to retreat to the ground where it was safe, and familiar, while the thrill of the flight kept them airborne, free, unwillingly to remember what life had felt like before this intensity, this rush of feeling and joy.

Wit nodded to her, squeezing her hand again, stopping her from falling, as she had so many times before, “I feel the same way,” he admitted, “You are a truly extraordinary woman, Jasnah Kholin,” he breathed, huffing a soft laugh and shaking his head. “And I would be lying if I tried to claim that I had seen this coming. I doubt even Cultivation-” he broke off, shaking his head.

Taking a breath he composed himself, and met her eyes once more, tenderly cupping her cheek in his hand. She allowed him, once again feeling as though something in his touch was electrified, as though something sparked between them at the merest brush of his skin against hers.

“You took me utterly by surprise, Jasnah,” he said, his voice now soft and sincere, “I knew you were a woman of uncommon beauty, of unsurpassing intelligence, and wit, even before I joined your court,” he added, seemingly unable to stop himself. Then he sobered, his voice gentler, more serious, “But I could never have predicted the effect that you would have on me. How stimulating your companionship could be, how addictive spending time with you could become.”

She nodded, barely conscious of the gesture, then she cleared her throat and said, “Is this your long winded, Wit way of telling me that you want to be in a relationship with me as well?”

Wit laughed at that, but it was a fond laugh, not meant to mock or hurt. He stroked his fingers through her hair and said, “Would it be more direct and obvious if I just kissed you again?” he asked.

“I certainly don’t think it could hurt,” she replied flatly, even as something in her chest fluttered in excitement at the prospect.

He did just that, but broke away before she was ready for it to end and said, “Jasnah Kholin.” She didn’t have a chance to reply before he was kissing her again. “I am telling you now,” Another kiss. “In no uncertain terms whatsoever,” He kissed her once more. “That I absolutely,” Another kiss. “Without a doubt,” She was smiling now. “Or a shred of hesitation,” he kissed her once more. “That I, your Wit,” he leaned in for another kiss but met only her finger, pressed against his lips and blocking him.

He raised his eyes to meet hers without drawing back from and said, the words mangled by the press of her finger against him, “Am asking you if you would-”

“Wit,” she groaned, shaking her head, even if she was still smiling at his antics.

He straightened up, also grinning, and said, “I want to be in a relationship with you, Jasnah. A romantic relationship. With you as my partner. If that is something you think would please you?”

In answer, to be quite sure he understood her completely, she kissed him again.

***

#jasnah kholin #hoid #witsnah #stormlight archive #rhythm of war #witsnah fic #my fic #jasnah fic #hoid fic #jasnah x wit #text post tag #long post #mine #I SPAWN ONCE MORE #WITH CONTENT #SOFT CONTENT #MWAHAHAHA

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jzixuans · 6 years ago

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Hey, I've been feeling down recently and was wondering if you had any Logince headcannons. Platonic or romantic work, whichever you feel more comfortable with. Sorry if I'm bothering you.

aw lad don’t worry about bothering me i’m glad to share some headcanons ! i hope you feel better soon!

now, might i interest you in some childhood friends-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers logince? [PREPARE FOR A LONG ASS BULLET FIC I’M SO SORRY (google docs says it’s 4.2k words oh my god)]

they’ve known each other since the first grade because oh my god they were neighbours

they were the kind of childhood friends that were aware of each other’s presence and they hung out a little on the playground and worked on group projects but they didn’t really click

there WERE occasions tho where their parents would sit them down together for play dates bc one or more of said parents were Occupied with Important Adult Stuff

and since this was way back when they were wee lil smols, they were hyperactive lil children

so they played lots of adventure games, lots of role-playing, play fighting, that kind of stuff (twas often the dashing daring prince accompanied by his wise magickal advisor)

okay, so maybe they did click, but only a little (so they say)

they liked most of the same stuff, reading, learning, doing stuff with all that knowledge in those big brains of theirs, and that was pretty much the base of their close-but-not-that-close-friendship

and then they got older, and as all kids do, they started prioritizing different things

logan still loved learning and applying that knowledge, but it was more of a ‘learn and apply what knowledge can make you really successful’ and that was how he found his love of science

for roman, it was more of a ‘take what you’ve learned and use it to create your own path to success’ because he planned to go into music and theatre

as a result of this, both boys were exceptional students, except logan cared maybe a little too much about the academics and roman not enough

as the years went by, logan threw himself into studying, making schedules and routines so that he could make sure he knows what he needs to know and maybe a little bit more on the side, who cares if he lost an hour of two of sleep?

roman just learned to go with the flow, so he took everything in stride, took in what he needed, left the rest, and focused on his art instead, even if he’s started to grow an unhealthy apathy to school

and maybe logan falls just short of perfect on his tests, and he looks over and roman has glowing one hundreds in red ink on his

logan looks back down at his and the teacher has written ‘Think outside the box!’

meanwhile logan answers every question in class with scary accuracy, beaming with pride whenever the teacher praises him, and after school that same day roman gets pulled aside with an ‘I know you’re smart, so why don’t you want to put in the work?’

of course logan’s parents wonder why his grades don’t match his progress work, and roman’s parents wonder how he can spend all his time singing and dancing and still come out with high nineties (“is he cheating?”)

and the two have been drifting apart enough as it was, but now they kind of hate each other because ‘why can’t i just be more like him?’

logan starts hating roman because ‘he doesn’t even CARE, how is he doing better than me?’ (part of him misses the days when roman cared so much about anything and everything)

roman starts hating logan because ‘he’s so stiff and condescending, why can’t he just be happy for me?’ (and part of him misses when logan would so willingly stand by his side as his faithful warlock advisor)

so naturally, competition just kind of,,,, grows between them, until they’re constantly at each other’s throats and everyone else watching the shitshow go down has absolutely no idea where the hell all this animosity came from

at this point logan has a new friend in virgil fray and roman has befriended patton hart (virgil and patton know not to bring up the boys’ ‘rivalry’)

of course, being neighbours, they can’t exactly escape each other, and their rooms are adjacent to each other’s (they used to just lean out their windows and talk side by side, but they haven’t in yEARS)

so it’s nearing summer, and it’s hot out so roman’s working on his homework with the window open when he hears this cry of frustration, the angry pushing back of a chair, and the throwing open of the door

his first thought is one of smug satisfaction knowing that logan is dealing with school worse than he is, but then a flash of black catches his eye underneath his window

he makes it to the window just in time to see logan hop the fence in his backyard, and that only means one thing: he’s going to the old park behind their houses

neither of them have touched that park in ages

roman is Intrigued™, so he caps his pen, turns off his lamp and tells his parents he’s going for a walk before dashing out the back door

when he gets to the park, logan’s somehow managed to climb on top of the roof of the play structure

and roman ain’t slick so he just stands at the bottom and yells up to him

and logan is Lost In Thought so he nearly falls off (lbr roman thought it was funny)

“what are you doing here?”

“well excuse me, suck-rates, i happened to notice that you weren’t doing too hot and wanted to see if you were okay.”

“like you’ve ever cared.”

“woah there, is blink 180-ew rubbing off on you?”

“lay off of him.”

“alright, alright, fine. forgive me for checking in on you.”

“you have a horrible way of showing people that you care, then.”

“well you have a horrible way of being a good friend.”

it just kind of,,,, slipped out, and now both boys are Oh Shit

but both boys are also not the type to back down from their feelings so they kind of have the Silent Stare-Off of Stubborness

roman decides to be the bigger person (bc any chance to one-up logan) and cave first

“so uh, what’s been bothering you?” (psh you thought he was gonna apologize first? not yet fam)

logan rolls his eyes bc this asshole amirite, but he wants to vent and this is probably his best opportunity to tell roman what’s really been bugging him

“i don’t know how you manage to do it.”

“do what?”

“do so well in school! you don’t even try!” and damn dude that one stings because he sounds exactly like his parents and every other teacher

“so you’re angry because you’re jealous that i’m better than you at everything.”

“that’s not what i meant and you know it.”

“i’ll have you know that i do try.”

“but you don’t care.”

“about school.”

“what?”

“i mean yeah, sure, i don’t care about school that much because i don’t really need it to go into music or theatre, but i still do my work.”

“but―”

“don’t you dare say anything about my grades because you know damn well that you’re smarter than me.”

“am not―”

“besides, weren’t you the one that told me in the fifth grade that ‘grades don’t mean shit’? my my, what a foul mouth for ten-year-old logan crane.”

“shut up.”

“nah.”

and by now logan’s decided that roman’s probably not going to rip his head off so he climbs down to stand beside him

and maybe the sun is setting bc i’m a classy romantic

and they’re having a Soft Quiet Moment

“…please don’t tell me that school was the only reason why u hated me.”

“… why did you hate me?” smh lo you’ve got to stop deflecting

“…”

“are you kidding me.”

“YOU STARTED IT”

“what no you did shut up”

and wOw now it’s awkward so

“oh would you look at that, it’s getting late, my parents are gonna think that i’m slacking again, better go. good talk let’s do this again sometime okay byee” and whoop roman just zooms off

and logan realizes that maybe roman’s life isn’t as perfect as he makes it out to be

but too late roman’s gone and he doesn’t want to look like he’s following him so he waits a good half hour before trekking back home

logan doesn’t finish his homework that night because he’s too busy rethinking the past many many years

the next day, he’s frantically trying to cram his work in during his lunch period

virgil takes one look at him and he says “dude, are you okay?”

“no”

“cool, let me know if i can do anything to help.” and maybe it’s a cold answer but logan and virgil are cold edgy people so that’s just how they do

after like twenty minutes virgil takes out his earbuds like “you haven’t complained or sent one angry glare in roman’s direction what the fuck is up kyle”

“i’m just…. stressed.”

virgil, externally: “yeah of course i feel u dude.”

virgil, internally: “i’ve seen you start a project at 3am the morning it was due without breaking a sweat but go off i guess.”

skip to later that night, logan finished his shit (he needed a distraction from the Roman Crisis) so he leans out his window for some Fresh Summer Night Air

and oho would you look at that roman had that sa m e i d ea

but it’s one of those clear nights where you can actually see the stars and logan just got roman off his mind so he’s a lil distracted

but of course roman notices and now that they’ve gotten some of their ‘rivalry’ out of the way, he remembers how much logan loved to drag him out to the park as late as they were allowed to stay up to watch the stars, and logan looks so at peace here (he’s only really seen logan’s angry face recently)

roman wants to say something, because part of him really wants to make up with logan

but before he can work up the courage he’s interrupted by his mom calling him

“roman! are you done all your work?”

“yeah, mom! almost!”

“you better be going to sleep early tonight!”

and roman is about to duck back inside before he gets yelled at even more but oh no too late logan’s already noticed and now he’s staring at him

“uh, hey.”

“hi.”

“are you, uh, are you feeling better?”

“for the most part, yes.”

“that’s good. look, uh, i gotta go, but i’ll see you at school?”

“oh, right, yes. good night, roman.”

“night, lo.”

roman falls back into his room with a crash because ‘oh my god why was that more nerve-wracking than any performance i’ve ever done?”

logan sinks back against his wall with a sigh because ‘is roman avoiding me now?’

the next day at school the two actually say hi to each other in the hallway and it’s like the entire world stops moving. students are staring and whispering, virgil and patton exchange looks, and logan and roman only just now realize how big their rivalry had gotten

the two lock eyes and burst into laughter because something as simple as a passing greeting in the hallway has turned the school on its head

and the rest of the school has absolutely no idea what just happened when the two part ways, virgil and patton trailing behind them, dumbfounded

they catch each other on the way home, though they walk in silence

that night, they’re back at their windows, side by side once more, and they exchange small talk

a couple weeks later, exams are coming up around the corner and both boys are stressed out of their minds

logan’s still working well past midnight when he hears the old creak of roman’s window opening

“i see your lamp. are you still up?” he hears roman whisper, and maybe it’s the late hour, but his voice is hoarse and wobbly, and logan is most certainly not used to hearing that

“that’s a ridiculous question, of course i’m still up,” logan replies, still not looking up from his computer because his history final project is due in two days

except roman doesn’t reply, and all he can hear from his direction is shaky laughter, and then a wet sniff

“of course i’m ridiculous. it’s not like i’m smart or anything.”

“what?”

“if i were smart i wouldn’t’ve procrastinated this english paper and i could probably be getting some sleep right now,” roman continues like he forgot that logan was there

“roman―“

“and sure, i can do other stuff, but it’s not like it matters or anything, not to my mom, or mr. schmitt, or you―”

“roman!”

roman’s babbling stops and logan worries that he’s scared him off until he looks up and sees roman leaning halfway out his window and now logan’s worried that roman’s going to fall out and break his neck on his patio

roman’s eyes are red and his nose is rubbed raw from crying. his usually-perfectly-coiffed hair is messy and greasy from running his hands through it, his clothes are rumpled, and his grip on the windowsill is trembling

yet he’s still half out the window, eyes comically wide, and logan can’t help but shake his head at how big a dork he is

“i’m sorry.”

roman’s so startled that his elbows buckle and he barely manages to land back in his room so he doesn’t fall (didn’t expect logan to apologize first, didya?)

he’s barely back out the window when logan starts talking again

“i shouldn’t have dismissed you so quickly. you are intelligent and you are capable and you absolutely didn’t deserve any of my anger or bitterness or hatred. for that, i’m sorry.”

roman is, SHOCKED, to say the least. when they were kids, usually it was roman who apologized first, if at all, logan only after being prompted to by parents or teachers (which might’ve contributed to their drifting apart)

“i’m― thank you.”

there’s a pause because it’s late and logan is really really bad at this

“i’m sorry, too. i only really hated you because everyone kept comparing us. that wasn’t really fair of me.”

“i guess not.”

“so i guess we both agree that we’re both assholes.”

“essentially.”

“cool.”

“what were you going to talk to me about?” and roman has an ‘oh yeah’ because he completely forgot what he came out here for

“i guess i just missed doing this.”

“i did too.”

and they’re not completely in the clear, because they have years of hurt to clean up, but in that moment, they just sit and talk, and maybe missing one assignment amongst a whole year of perfect grades won’t hurt

they’re butts tired in the morning but neither of them regret it, regardless of virgil and patton’s comments of ‘how much sleep did you get last night? you look like you’re about to pass out.’

that weekend, their finals are all handed in, exams don’t start until the next week, and they’re both sick and tired of studying so logan invites roman over and they lounge in his star-speckled room, talking about everything and nothing

roman’s busy going through logan’s stuff (“what? i haven’t been in here since the summer before the seventh grade”) so logan has a free minute to just,, watch him, and he just now realizes how much he missed having this ball of energy in his life (in a positive way)

after that day, the tension between them is almost gone and conversations are so much easier (virgil and patton get to sigh in relief because ‘thank god, i love them, but they needed to get their shit together’)

but alas, exams approach and roman calls logan late one night, in tears and stressed beyond relief, begging him to meet him at the park (he would’ve called patton, but patton’s never really been under forced academic pressure, and logan’s just a smidge more familiar for him)

logan’s out of the house without another thought, and he sees roman sitting up on the monkey bars with his knees tucked up to his chest (‘oh my god roman don’t you dare fucking fall’)

“i’m sorry, you were probably sleeping, but i just needed to get out of the house and―”

“please don’t apologize for reaching out. what― what’s wrong?”

“i just can’t! my mom’s been threatening to pull me out of music if i don’t do well on this exam because ‘math is more important than music’ but i don’t know anything! i’ve been scraping by pretty well on tests but i can’t fucking study and none of the information is sticking and―”

“roman, you’re hyperventilating. you need to breathe―”

“don’t tell me what to do!” roman regrets this Immediately because logan recoils his hand like he’s been burned. great, just another thing to feel Bad about. “i-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

if this was a month or two ago, logan would’ve had a scathing remark about roman’s inability to control himself but now he just places his hand back on roman’s shoulder and taps gently with his finger

“you remember that school assembly from grade nine? the one about mental health?”

“yeah?”

“can you do that breathing exercise?”

“probably”

ten minutes later, roman’s cried himself out and he’s stopped hyperventilating but he can’t seem to stop his hands from shaking

logan has absolutely no idea what to do but he’s seen patton do it before with some of the younger kids so he holds his arms out (v awkwardly) and goes, “would you― would it be― would a hug help?”

this gets a lil laugh out of roman because he’s trying and that’s adorable so now he’s cry-laughing into logan’s shoulder

“your mother sounds an awful lot like your horrendous dragon witch. i suppose we must simply team up to defeat her.”

roman draws away so fast he bumps into logan’s chin

“OH MY GOD YOU REMEMBER THAT”

“like i could forget it”

“oh my god”

“i mean, i wanted to, but those were… fun times.”

“hell yeah they were.”

“when’s your exam? i can help you study, if you want.”

“in about seven hours.”

“…change of plans, you’re coming back with me, you’re going to sleep for six, wake up, get a cup of tea, and we’re going to do a brief review before school.”

“…okay.”

so they walk back to logan’s house (roman makes sure to tack a note to his bedroom door for his parents, he’ll face the consequences later), and they just, collapse into a pile of leggy boi on logan’s bed (they were too tired to argue about formalities)

logan wakes up with roman clinging to his chest and he very sorely misses that warm cuddly heat but Nope he is Determined™ to help roman get that bread

so he wakes roman up, plops his notes down in front of him and tells him to flip through it while he goes to make breakfast

roman is a jittery Mess all the way up to the exam, but logan promises that he’d be waiting in the cafeteria for him (it was his lunch period’s exam day so he a Free Boi) and he leaves roman with a “you are more capable than you know. you already have everything you need to succeed. and no matter what, you are valid.”

two hours later, roman comes out and he has Zero Confidence in his results, but logan greets him with a clap on the shoulder and the reassurance that “at least you’re done with this.”

they meet up with virgil and patton and go for lunch, and oho, perhaps this is the beginning of a New Squad

at the end of the week, on exam review day logan’s waiting out in the hallway to go to his next class to see his results when he sees roman sprinting down the hall with the biggest grin on his face

“i got an 84!!! thank you, you beautiful blessed nerd!!” because honestly? roman expected nothing more than a 52 so this was a very pleasant surprise, and now roman’s hugging logan so tight that logan swears he heard his elbow pop

the other students of the school are still processing because it was literally only been a little over a month since they started talking to each other again, and anyone out of the loop just got hella whiplash

(and if this burst of happiness and gratitude left a weird, bubbly feeling in logan’s stomach, well, he’ll just keep that to himself)

the next few summer days are spent hanging out, in their rooms, at their windows, at the park, and sometimes, virgil and patton join them

sometimes they’re in roman’s room, roman typing away on his computer with a dozen open notebooks scattered around him while logan lays on his bed, and the two bounce ideas back and forth for the next adventures of the daring prince c and his faithful advisor logos

and then they’re two weeks into the summer break, virgil’s off visiting family in china for the next few weeks and patton’s in the caribbean, so they’re just aimlessly tossing a ball back and forth in roman’s room while they talk about their futures and stuff because “oh my god they’re gonna be high school s e n i o r s in the fall“ ((‘gee, blink, don’t u think that’s a lot of drama for 16 y/os?’ yes absolutely, shut up))

roman chucks the ball at logan, who catches it in one hand and he’s smirking and roman has to take a moment to catch his breath because ‘why was that so hot omg’

over the next couple weeks the two are basically joined at the hip, and when they’re not hanging out, they’re texting or calling each other and it finally feels like they’re really making up for lost time

at the same time, they may or may not be falling for each other and they have no idea what to do with these Feelings™

logan doesn’t know how to what to do because virgil is v aro and the only other person he can talk to is roman, whOM HE HAS A CRUSH ON

meanwhile roman is v frantically texting patton like bro pls call me as soon as u get back there’s a cute boy hELP

it’s nearing the beginning of august when the two go into town to get food and ice cream and they’re laughing and joking and waving melted strawberry ice cream in each other’s faces and they’re sitting on a bench when they lean in real close mid laugh and ‘oh no his face is rIGHT THERE’

they draw away real quick but both of them realize that ‘that wasn’t horrible?’ and they slowly look back at each other and ‘oh.’

“is this―”

“um―”

“is this― i mean if you want it to be ― is this a date?” and roman holds his breath because ‘dear god, please say yes’

“i’d like it to be, yes.” logan is terrified because he does n o t want to fuck this up

except now roman has the biggest grin and he absolutely does not care that he’s got ice cream dripping onto his leg

roman tackles logan into a hug because ‘he’s on a date with logan fucking crane’

logan is thrilled because now he gets to keep this excitable ball of energy who’s made him smile and laugh more in the past couple months than he has in years

(no diss against virgil and patton, but they can’t relate to logan and roman as well as, well, logan and roman)

they both have ice cream on themselves but neither can be bothered to care at this moment because they’re so damn happy

even after they go home that night, they stay up real late at their windows, side by side, just appreciating the company

it’s the next day, and they’re at the park, the sun is setting ((listen,,,, it’s an aesthetic)) and they’re sitting on the swings, holding hands ((they’re in love, babey!!))

“are we… does this make us boyfriends now?” logan is a v technical, official terminology person, of course he’d be the one to ask

“if you want to be boyfriends.”

“i don’t think i’d be asking if i didn’t.”

“then yeah, yeah we’re boyfriends.”

logan walks back into his house with a giant smile, and he plays that event over and over and over again in his mind as he lies awake in bed that night

roman calls patton immediately

and they may or may not scream about it together

logan sends virgil a short text that goes along the lines of ‘roman and i are dating now’ but in real life he’s so giddy that his fingers shake as he types it out

they have their first kiss in roman’s bedroom a couple days later

when school rolls back around in the fall, they walk through the doors hand in hand

and now their rivalry is nothing but a legend that the seniors tell the freshmen whenever someone complains about ‘that one couple that keeps making out in the math wing stairwell, excuse me, i just want to get to class’

#logince #romantic logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts roman #thomas sanders #sanders sides #blink writes #long post #anon #cursing tw #i am sO SORRY THIS IS LATE #I HOPE UR FEELING BETTER BUDDY

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honeyfreckled · 5 years ago

Text

Forming a group

I have a lot to say so this will be a series of posts or I’ll reblog this one with my new info as we go. Kay so. Tag to blacklist will be: honey forms a group

Me and mutual @sebastiansloserclub are forming a group on here.

Some things abt who can join:

You don’t have to be just a SebStan blog

You don’t have to be a MCU/DC/anything comic or superhero related

You don’t have to be into the other popular mainstream buff dudes (Henry Cavill, Chris Evans, Hemsworth, Oscar Isaac, Etc.)

You don’t have to be a fandom acct of any kind

It’s okay if you have made stuff but have never shared anything

If you don’t make content, BUT are open to learning

You have knowledge of writing, art, gif making, programming, picture editing, photo editing, photoshop, design, tech, video making, editing (writing or tech or art)

You are not the kind of person who will only like things but never reblog

You are not the kind of person who will play favorites or only interact with ppl who have a high follower count/popularity

You are not the kind of person who sends anon hate

You are not the kind of person who wants only popularity

You are down to support unique ideas, offer constructive criticism, be able to take constructive criticism

You are not the kind of person who will play mind games, ghost ppl, discriminate against minority groups

You don’t ascribe to what is often referred to as “boomer” mentality (idk what else to call it w/out being longwinded)

You are open to tagging things when ppl ask (esp in cases where the content is nsfw or possibly triggering)

You know and understand the faux pas for using tumblr are (taking over a post not made by or specifically for you w tagging large numbers of ppl, turning what was originally just a suggestive or flirty gif or post into an overtly sexual one, being overtly sexual as a constant, having conversations in reblogs rather than taking it to PMs)

You are not the kind of person who will rip off ideas (this isn’t directed at tropes/trends/and ideas that were meant to be shared purposely)

You are not the kind of person who reposts someone else’s original content w the excuse that you couldn’t find the OP/artist

You are not the kind of person who will steal and repost gifs

You are not the kind of person who isn’t open to help others unless you are getting something out of it (follow for follow, reblog for reblog, stacking odds, etc)

This is just a bit of the criteria. Our aim for this group is to find a family. A tight knit group of friends who are not fussed with our follower counts, our notes, or gaining dominion over any other accts/ppl. Our goal is one we have always wanted and why we went thru the hassle of sharing our works on here in the first place: we long for friends who will provide feedback, words, opinions on the things we make. Artists of any kind require an active audience, and the best kind of audience is not one that offers empty platitudes or asskissing so that they will get it in return. The most productive and helpful way to be a consumer of someone else’s work is to tell that creator SOMETHING, something more than “loved it do more!” something that will get that creator reaching for their pen again, itching to make more, excited to show their work bc they know they will hear back things they can take away and use when they create next time.

Artists on tumblr have BEEN underappreciated. And fic writers in particular face many obstacles when it comes to posting writing. Arguments that frame them as just clout hungry, angry readers who are always quick to complain, but never say a word when the writing is out of this world amazing. In fact it is almost like the writer is constantly begging for any lil scrap of any love. They end up accepting demanding requests from unappreciative anons just so they can feel like someone cares. It ain’t okay w me and I refuse to partake any longer. Hearing from so many of my beloved mutuals going thru the same thing has worked this girl up. I’m raring to go.

So, if you have read this far and seem interested. Send me a message or ask and we can start chatting more. I CANNOT VIEW REPLIES, SO PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO CONTACT US THIS WAY! This will be a small club, we wanna keep it close knit so each member can provide support and help w editing and beta’ing and such and such. We are not aiming for popularity like I said, so if you thinkin’ this will be something that comes out w huge challenges and daily prompts this isn’t for you. I’ll explain more like I said. But again, just wanna reiterate- there will be rules in place and it is probably not gonna be like other groups you may see on here.

#honey forms a group #sebastiansloserclub

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merrysithmas · 5 years ago

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hi! what are your predictions for boris and theo’s future after the end of the novel? are they going to move together and where - new york or antwerp? is boris going to get clean? is theo going to find out boris lied about his wife and kids? please share your thoughts I’m really curious!

I don’t have any predictions bc I know that Donna will just ruin their lives - Lmao. But my FANTASY is that Theo becomes some kind of tenured art professor that travels back and forth from NYC to London with his grants from the high-brow University he works for — he’s head of Art History and looks up to the Dean of his school as a mentor and mother-figure (can’t get away from that one, can ya Theo).

Boris works in his underground Odessa mafia crime syndicate - stationed in Antwerp but often traveling to NYC, Tel Aviv, Miami, Budapest, London, Amsterdam, and various other places — Theo kind of on the DL works as his stony-faced accountant being a bit knowledgable on the laundering and financial fraud end of things himself (he used to dabble in millions in art fraud himself) and fine arts consultant, and everyone knows they are these inseparable partners of unknown dynamic. Boris, flippant and personable and wily, Theo quiet and elitist and aloof - always at each other’s sides.

So Theo’s become a bit of a “we have to find lost and stolen relics and return them to the places where they truly belong, or the very least to a museum!” and uses his grant money from his University to investigate such matters and has been successful in several returns (cue proud newspaper articles that Hobie framed and puts up on the mantle) and has brought some amount of prestige to the University.

However Theo’s philanthropic fixation often clashes with Boris’ “holy fuck this is worth 300 million dollars” attitude and there are hijinx, usually with Boris always caving and/or Theo making it worth his while by appealing to his Boris-ly interests (i.e. “Please I need your resources to go to Syria” “Are you fucking kidding me? For what a plank of wood?” “It’s a sacred Persian relic and it’s in the hands of people like Martin!” “Listen to my words, Potter. It is. plank. of fucking. wood.” “Fuck you, Boris. There will be gold.” “... Gold? How much gold exactly?”).

So as Theo dabbles in Boris’ life, Boris also pops up in Theo’s, unexpectedly interrupting Theo’s lectures in the halls of European museums, waving to the kids, pulling Theo away for “just a moment” as he explains someone in the museum in trying to kill him insisting they “switch coats” and Theo has to hide him in the archives. Or he plops down while Theo is eating outside in a café in Strasbourg, casually sitting down across from him while Theo grades papers and smiles to himself at the familiar shadow falling on his gradebook (they eventually get into a fight and Theo calls him a “walking contraceptive” before he blusters off and Boris is left to eat the rest of Theo’s brunch in the company of a bunch of diners who are side-eying him, taking to reading a paper Theo left behind while finishing his Gerwurztraminer).

Or Boris is exhuasted, burning the midnight oil, black rings under his eyes, thinner than usual, wiry and punkish, under the gun, dead asleep on Theo’s couch in his office at his London library University headquarters, and Theo carefully tucks a heavy woolen blanket around his shoulders as he sleeps like the dead, deep tired breaths, safe, at home, as the rain pours down like a flood outside and Theo smokes quietly in the dark working on another grant proposal.

Or Theo turns up at Boris’ door in Antwerp, late nightcap after a surprise flight for a conference and seminar that he hasn’t told Boris about, and he sees Boris has barely eaten for weeks, holed up after trying to figure he and his gang’s way out of some absolute fuckery they got themselves into and losing one of his longtime members in the process — grieving and he can’t show anyone else and it hurts. And Theo runs his hand through Boris’ hair, and Boris closes tired, red eyes. And Theo is cooking him a meal at 3am, putting on some boiling hot tea, insisting he “come home” for a while. To New York.

New York City in the winter — operas and symphonies — snow falling like feathers and covering Central Park, winter holidays from school and Theo doesn’t have work, gallery events at museums that Boris can complain about - the Old Rich Hierarchal stuffiness - the insulting of which always makes him feel a bit better. Old movies and (bad, hard) drugs and stealing shit for old times sake from Duane Reade even though Boris has enough money for the two of them to span three lifetimes. Hot showers after getting in from the freezing cold and Theo’s apartment is meticulous and Boris disturbs it like a tornado. And they sleep in and for some brief moments, sometimes, tipped over vodka bottles, creaking floorboards in the night, city sounds and Vegas-bright Christmas lights, it’s like they’re kids again.

Meanwhile on the other end Boris’ gang is like a second family to Theo — Myriam, Gyuri, Cherry, Anatoly, Shirley T, Dima (and all their girlfriends, wives, boyfriends - sometimes all three): one is constantly showing up in rotation somehow in Theo’s life. Either randomly in London pulling him off the street “casually” SWEARING he’s not the subject of an assassination plot, or turning up sheepishly and/or desperately at his doorstep for some Boris un-sanctioned advice that Theo feels he is not exactly equipped to give (advice on girlfriends or spurned wives or cheating or kids or haircuts or boobjobs or what’s “in fashion in New York”) but they keep showing up like he’s the crew psychologist so he just pulls out the dining chair at this point. Myriam, now a close friend forged by their mutual taste for the High End of life, keeps an eye on Boris for Theo when Theo is across the ocean — she knows why, of course, they all do, an open secret. The whole gang has them, a criminal syndicate of misfits.

And one day Theo comes to Boris with a proposal to go to Siberia to retrieve an ancient sacred object called The Divine Source (an source of immortality) that was coveted and obscured by the Soviet Union and Boris is like fuck no Fuck no because if there is one place on Earth that Boris fears and sends a shiver up his spine and he doesn’t fuck with - it’s Mother Russia. Growing up in post-Soviet countries it’s an unspoken unanimous agreement among the gang, an overhanging government that has mostly wanted or had their eyes on them all since they were kids for various reasons - stealing or living on the street or used by street gangs - something you don’t want to get involved with or retamper.

And Theo’s a bit obtuse, still American for all his worldly ventures and education, having grown up in relative privilege from a sociological standpoint, and is super upset about Boris’ refusal to help (and thus, his gang’s refusal to help) - thinking they’re overreacting or being bombastic about their fears. The Dean is insisting on his help and Boris has long held suspicions about this lady and has kept it to himself because of Theo’s adulation of her (Boris knows Theo and mother figures are let’s say, a sensitive spot). Not wanting to disappoint the University (and moreover - her) Theo says fine he’ll just go alone to which Boris freaks the fuck out claiming its dangerous and he’s going to get himself killed and the Dean is an untrustworthy bitch who is manipulating him.

Cue an all-out end-of-times fight with Theo basically saying fuck him for all time, he’s done. And Theo leaves for Siberia by way of Syria, and Boris is fuming, left behind.

Long story short Theo gets betrayed by the Dean in a moment of gutwrenching horrifying realization - he was being used, Boris was right, now she has the relic and he’s going to die alone and freezing to fucking death, shot by some operative from the secret organization that Dean is in — he hears footsteps, sees the armored guard walking towards him with a gun, feels his stomach drop and braces himself and then Pow - the guy falls to the ground after a blow to the head revealing— Boris, behind him.

And Theo, overjoyed, alive, is asking how the fuck he got here, what he’s doing here— to which Boris replies incredulously Who do you think has been keeping you safe all this time?

Then Boris, who is very much on edge in this place, gets captured and tortured and Theo is forced to find and hand over the Divine Source in exchange for his life — which he does, terrified of the Source getting into their hands but more terrified of losing Boris. The Source is then greedily opened and eats all of their souls (because of moral impurity reasons but spares Theo and Boris for their self-sacrifcing devotion to each other) a la Raiders of the Lost Ark because of what Theo discovers, excitedly, was a mistranslation in Aramaic (thief of eternal life, not giver) and Boris is like — talk about what do you call it? false advertising.

So they return back to Antwerp with nothing but they’ve got each other and they snooze hard on each other on the plane ride back — several pounds of gold glinting away in Boris’ carry-on under the seat, alongside some old notes of other obscure and stolen relics, because he unknowingly picked up the Dean’s bag, not his, when escaping the sacred city.

So basically their life is a mix of Lara Croft video games (when I got the Divine Source storyline lmao but added a few things), Eastern Promises, The Odd Couple, The Da Vinci Code, and dark academia mixed with shitton of doping. With this mostly unspoken bi-continental devotion to each other over-arching it all.

#ask #anon #these hcs brought to you by myself and terriblygrimm #the goldfinch #boreo #sorry this is so long #soft fantasies lol where they live

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 4 years ago

Text

↬ i’ll cover your deep heart and even your pain.

date: june 2020 / august 2020.

location: ash’s apartment studio / wellness retreat / ash’s apartment studio again.

word count: 1,866 words.

summary: ash writes a song for youngjoo’s birthday and decides to put it on his album.

triggers: n/a.

notes: creative claims verification. mentions of youngjoo ofc. i kinda... don’t... hate this 🥴

early june 2020.

he starts at home, where he usually does: in the comforting walls of his studio. it’s dark outside, but it’s the same level of low light it always is in his studio. the only sign of the late hour is the state of artistic drive his brain is in. a natural night owl, writing comes easiest at a late hour, a small blessing among few he has that has helped him survive life as an idol.

youngjoo’s birthday is approaching and he needs something to give her. there’s no guide to shopping for your friend-question-mark-slash-hook-up-question-mark-slash-ex girlfriend-question-mark-slash-muse-question-mark. believe him, he’d searched both google and naver to try to find an idea.

the answer should be obvious. self-expression for ash comes far more easily through song than anything else. he’ll shower a lover in gifts if they ask him to, but she’s not his lover and they’re both too secure in their careers for an exchange of gifts, no matter how extravagant and expensive they may be, to hold all that much value based on sheer luxury alone. everything else, everything that would lend itself to sentimentality, feels like either too much or too little. there’s a line ash has to toe to keep from implying they’re more than they are without offending her by demoting her role in his life to that of a mere acquaintance.

a song can be shaped entirely by ash himself. he’ll be the auteur of its tone and content and everything it conveys. the problem ash has realized is that that turns back on him, forcing him to question what it is he wants to convey to her.

he’s written her a song once already. kind of. not really. he’d written songs to her and about her, but never directly for her. woo ah had taught him well enough that even showing him any of those songs is a bad idea, and yet here he is.

it’s obvious he needs to keep it simple. anything too romantic and it’ll come off as a confession. he doesn’t have a confession he’s looking to make, to start with, and even if he did, confessing on her birthday would be terribly self-centered of him. no one with half a brain and respect for others would believe that’s the right move to make.

what does he want to tell her? there’s a lot, but it’s easy to shift through and eliminate everything that wouldn’t be appropriate to make this song about. pulling to the forefront the specifics of what he can and should tell her is harder.

he abandons that and instead pulls out his one of his favorite guitars, his black gibson les paul, and sets to playing around with chord progressions and suitable keys. there’s a melody that bounces around in his head and he sends it soaring into the air through the strings, not satisfied until he finds a way to shape it into the kind of rolling comfort youngjoo provides him.

youngjoo’s a composer, a master with notes even if ash knows she doubts her lyrical ability at times. if words fail, he can hope she’ll connect with him in the heart of the song.

if he’s lyrics, so forward and obvious and often messy in execution under the excuse of heavy emotion, then youngjoo is the melody and harmonies that lay underneath, steady, strong, and deep.

mid-june 2020.

another night, he returns to the composition he’d written and he puts the instrumental on repeat as he pulls out a pen and a notebook and writes youngjoo a letter. if that’s what he wants to do through the song so badly, what better way to start than to do it for real? it’s not something she’ll ever read, but he'll have it.

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dear joo,

letters are romantic like no other form of writing that exists other than, perhaps, song itself. at the risk of sounding like one of those old men who complain that all the kids do these days is text, it wouldn’t be so bad to bring letter-writing back. it’s comforting to read a letter, isn’t it? there’s something so permanent yet fragile about written words on paper. it’s comforting and delicate all at once. that’s how you make me feel sometimes. you’ve seen parts of me i worry about you having seen. on late nights like this without anyone else around, i get terrified that the sides of me that aren’t perfect are going to be the ones that cost me you from my life.

i know what you’d say if you read this. ‘don’t be silly. you’re perfect the way you are, ash.’ you’re always so much better and so much more loving than i give you credit for, but it’s not your fault i don’t give you enough credit. i know the woman you are. i’ve been your friend a while now. once upon a time, you even granted me the privilege of being your lover. i know you. knowing you so well is why i can’t get you off of my mind.

i’ve thought so hard about what i think you want to hear from me. i think about that a lot, actually, even when your birthday isn’t approaching. what do you want me to say? what do you want me to do? what do you want me to be? but none of that is what you’d want me to do, i know, so i’m now beginning to think it would be better if i didn’t think too hard about that. i’ll think about what i want to tell you.

song is a gift. i don’t believe in a god or a greater design, but music is the closest thing the human race has created to true divinity. in music, we can express everything we can’t say without a melody or a rhythm or a harmony to support us.

i’ve been thinking a lot about you lately, about us, and about this world we live in. there are days i feel so empty that i ache with the coldness of it. do you have those days, too? you must. i don’t know if you know i realize this because i’m in my own head so often, but i know my life isn’t the only hard one out there. i’m lucky in so many ways i take for granted. i know your relationship with your parents isn’t what you deserve it to be, and i know your heart is so big that you’ll do anything to see the good in anyone who crosses your path, even if it hurts you in the end. it may have seemed like i blamed you for it when we were together, but i understand you didn’t hide your feelings from me on purpose. i’ve never fully understood that about you. we’re so different in that way. but, now, it worries me more than anything. are there other feelings you don’t show me? fear, sadness, hurt?

i hope you know that you can share all of those emotions with me. i won’t judge you for them and they won’t be a burden to me. i meant it when i said i wanted to be a light for you. let me shine for you when your world is dark and let me be your blanket when you feel cold both inside and out.

i’m a greedy man and i want so much i shouldn’t, but please know that you allowing me to be that would make me happy. if i could return a fraction of the comfort and peace you’ve brought me, being able to give you that for your birthday and beyond would be the greatest gift i could ever give you.

yours, ash

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the letter turns easily into lyrics after that. the letter is compressed into something much shorter, but it’s brief and to the point, avoiding the detours and scenic walks his stream of conscious letter had taken him on. it isn’t his most winding, poetic feat of storytelling, but he has no intention of it being. this isn’t a song meant to touch any listener who hears it. this is a song meant to touch one listener.

recording it comes similarly easily, and he insists on recording the song in one take. half an hour passes and he stops. there are times he’ll spend hours upon hours recording one song in the studio, but this song doesn’t need that. to fret over every intricacy of delivery and vocal technique would be to strip the song of its rawness, to present it as overly polished and perfected, and he already tries so hard to be some idealized version for himself in front of youngjoo already.

this is honesty.

august 2020.

the draft he sends youngjoo before he performs the song for her isn’t what the finished product of the song ends up being. it’s rough and short in comparison to what he ends up turning in to bc entertainment, but he’d had no intention of turning it into the company in the first place when he’d started. it’d been meant to be only for her, but as his album falls more and more into place, he realizes, in a lot of ways, it’s become a reflection of the past year of his life. it’s only natural that an album he’s played such a role in writing ends up as such, and songs inspired by youngjoo are all over the track list. when he looks back on it, she’s been a big part of his life for the last several months. some of his saddest moments had been with her, and that’s more than clear from the songs he’s written about her, but his happiest had been, too. his birthday and her birthday both stand out as times his self-hatred and internal resentment had been pushed away for long enough for him to genuinely smile in a way he remembers.

youngjoo won’t be the cure for his problems, much like he can’t be the cure for hers, but it’s times like their night together at the retreat that make ash want to try harder to solve his problems himself. this song, this piece titled ‘joo’ that he’ll undoubtedly need to rename, listening to it reminds him of the better person he can be if he lets himself. in a turn of fate, the song he’d meant to be a comfort to youngjoo also comforts him in the knowledge he’s capable of more than destruction.

the song deserves a place on his album and he’s prepared to fight for it. so much of the album is dark, because that’s what he’s felt so much lately, but this one isn’t. the orchestral outro is added completely of his own accord, a further representation of how youngjoo makes him feel in their best moments together: light, dreamy, and nostalgic for days they’re supposed to have left behind them.

when he sends it into bc, it’s the only track in that email, and he includes a note, bolded and underlined so they can’t pretend they didn’t see it: this has to be the last track. it’s the final piece of the story.

#fmdverification #&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para

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geejaysmith · 5 years ago

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Wolf 359 Classpects, pt. 1

Soooo, while I was still busy with the last few weeks of my summer internship, I did keep thinking about classpecting the Wolf 359 cast. Possibly too much, because it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd solved my own God Tier riddle. Unfortunately, it got really long in the solving because I have many Thoughts and want to share all of them, always, so uh, a complete Classpect Analysis of Wolf 359 will be in parts? This first one covers Eiffel's, Hera's, Lovelace's and Minkowski's aspects.

DOUG EIFFEL: An utter no-brainer; ya boi Dougie Fresh is a Breath player if I ever saw one. For Chrissakes, he's the communications officer, and the first one to start complaining about the monotony of being stuck in a deep space sardine can. Breath is associated with communication, freedom, openness, and change - "free as the breeze", you might think of it, but that also leads to Breath players having trouble pinning themselves down to anything. They get skittish if they feel pinned down, and frustrated when stuck in place. Doug's noncommittal aloofness, the way he's off in his own little world (partially to hide from the fact he really does not like himself very much at all), and the way he's incorporated media into his self-perception all match pretty well with John and the Nitrams. But at the same time, he's the one playing mediator even as early as The Sound And The Fury. Being largely outside of the War Industrial Complex the other characters are so familiar with and thus mostly free from its dogmatic worldview of hierarchy and order, he's becomes the One Sane Man when he's the one to shout "what is WRONG with you people?" when "murder" shows up in the top 3 potential solutions to a problem, and he has no hesitation in saying what's on his mind. And it's not all complaints and bad ideas, either; he's got whole speeches telling the others how amazing he thinks they are and how in awe he is of their skills. A key catalyst in the plot of Wolf 359 is the reaching effects of his radio broadcasts. Also, there's something hilarious to the fact that for the aspect associated with communication, Doug *literally* cannot lie to save his life. I kept my ears open for the infamous Breath Hex on my second listen - that is, the strange little way in which things Breath players say tend to come to pass in reality. Cigarette Candy is basically 20 straight minutes of the Decima virus being Breath Hexed into existence, and he guessed Lovelace's situation in one - "Maybe she's a clone, or like a *really* good robot replica."

HERA: Another easy one. Although Hera is resistant to splintering as we've come to recognize it, Heart players are nothing if not determined to be an individual. They have a firm idea of themselves as a person and defend it fiercely, including compartmentalizing away pieces that don't fit their self-image. Maybe less actively putting them down like Jade Harley did to Jadesprite (the manifestation of the negative feelings she repressed out of fear they'd make her less useful) - that would mean attacking or denying a part of themselves - and more... "why yes, I put this part of myself in this box, and I may look at the box on occasion, the box definitely exists, but I don't go near the box and I definitely do not touch or open or interact with the box. And then one day, I will die." So that piece finds other avenues to express itself because it can't not do that. Hera's programming dictates she be "chipper and non-confrontational and always ready to help", but she actively resists being a mere utility and always has - her earliest know action was to attempt a jailbreak of the manufacturing facility she was made in, born rebel that she is. She will insist upon her name over her serial number unless you force her not to, and gets passive-aggressive at people treating her like a machine. And yet, even as she teaches herself to ignore commands literally written into the base of her personality, she doesn't reject her directive to be helpful, nor does she express a wish to be a flesh-and-blood human, or even really to have a physical form? She has a human self-image in mental spaces (we presume, I will semi-seriously point out there's nothing definitively stating she doesn't see herself as like, her fursona or something), but when she has to limit herself to a human-like view of the ship, her immediate reaction is "this is weird, I don't like it." This is honestly something about Hera that I think may be unique among non-villainous AI characters; she seems to be content with being what she is in general, and she just wishes for people to treat her as a person and not a piece of equipment they can do with as they please.

ISABEL LOVELACE: Arm-wrestled Hera for the Heart aspect and lost, despite Hera not actually having any arms, but that's okay because there's two aspects that fit her much better: Blood and Time. I ultimately went with Blood.

This is the part where you notice I'm onto the third of four characters in an aspects-only meta post, yet there is still a lot of post to go. This is because These Kinds Of Characters, the sort that're constantly on emotional lockdown, are a Challenge Mode, and for me to truly be satisfied with my classification I have to start drilling into the bedrock of what it even means to have an aspect in general, what it means to have a specific aspect, and what each aspect is really about. When you're on that level you tend to find yourself throwing out explicit expositional statements as incomplete, oversimplified, or unreliable, and looking at the text directly with a subtextual electron microscope. Brace yourselves. I have thrown the author out of the airlock, and I am about to get verbose.

Lovelace's character sheet describes her in contradictions, and we get to see two different sides to her that resolve into the complete picture by the time Lovelace Mk. III wakes up. There's Captain Isabel Lovelace, goofing around in her earlier logs, and The Terminator. She does things Her Way and is very much prepared to fight you if you object - the whole reason she was picked for the Hephaestus mission was her willingness to go against (in her words) "stupid orders" and do what she thought was right. She's also fiercely loyal; The Terminator is the end result of her anger and grief for her lost crew and at her failure to get them home alive. Her backstory episode has her summing up her complicated relationship to the Air Force with "I owe a lot of who I am to them." And even before she and Minkowski have completely stopped butting heads, Lovelace shoves her out of the way of an exploding wall panel that would've killed her, and takes a near-fatal bit of shrapnel to the gut in the process. At her best, Lovelace is a fearless, boundlessly determined, dedicated firebrand of a leader. At worst, she can be impatient, stubborn, shortsighted, and ruthless. I dunno about you but that reminds me of a certain... angry crab that I know.

"Time" was what a few people chimed in with for Lovelace and while I see some of the connections (her awareness of the time loop, "Variations on a Theme", her multiple selves and multiple deaths, the repeated motif of clocks and pocketwatches) I don't think she quite fits in with the other Time players. Unlike most Time players, she doesn't have a fixation with historic context, the "Why Things Are The Way That They Are." This manifests in Dave's paleontology and his taking of source material for ironic twisting, Aradia's archaeology and knowledge of The Nature Of The Game, Damara's... /noises and vague gestures bc I don't want to go back through Meenahbound but her role as The Handmaid fits the pattern, and Caliborn's own warped, thoughtless replication of narrative archetypes. Context. Decisions. What came before and how it shapes the now, where your decisions will take it from here. The consequences those decisions will have. The details versus the larger picture. Even failure has its place in that scheme - that's the Time aspect. Lovelace doesn't like to dwell, she's a very "barrelling forward momentum" kind of person.

Side note: Aradia, Dave, and Damara all face hesitation to take action they had to learn to overcome. Also, all of them had to be pushed to use violence except in self-defense; Aradia let Vriska cross a series of lines before beating the everloving shit out of her, and Damara snapped after what, years? Of Meenah's abuse. Dave, on the other hand, never raises a hand to another person except as a complete necessity. Caliborn is, if anything, an aberration here in that he's outright homocidal and self-doubt is something that happens to other people. Caliborn is an outright aberration to a lot of Time player patterns, and to SBURB in general, because it's SBURB, so the rules are made up and the points don't fucking matter, except when they do, because Fuck You, The Author Said So.

No, Lovelace's approach to decision-making is that regrets are for afterwards, and "if I fail I deserve to be out of this picture; also, this situation has gone entirely pear-shaped, time to fling myself into the sun." (and that sounds an awful lot like someone that I know very well, but I'll deal with that royal mess when I get to the crazy whamma-jamma that is Classes). Impatience and railroading of other people can be her undoing just the same as assertiveness and decisiveness are her gifts.

...aaand then I went ahead and watched the live episode and yeah, major Karkat vibes there. However, I note that I don't believe we have ever hit hard evidence in Homestuck that Blood players are capable of Chilling The Fuck Out - this is part of the limitations of classpecting characters who weren't made for this system, you really have to dig into how much of their behavior is situational and where you see the kernel of individual perception shine through, the Rosetta Stone by which you begin to see the constants. "Where the object becomes the subject", to quote Memoria.

Finally, I think it's also worth noting that while Lovelace has a lot of connections to Time motifs, she also has connections to a lot of Blood motifs that arguably become more important to her story. Personal bonds and social justice are two of the Blood aspects strongest associations - see Lovelace's loyalty to her crew, and extending her desire to avenge them out to everyone Goddard Futuristics has ever used and tossed aside. The physical body and literal blood are other strong associations, and gee, how many times does the O-negative Cure-All Alien Juice in Lovelace's veins become a critical plot point? Not to mention the implication that her new friends all pulled through the finale because all of them now have her blood in their system. I'll accept that she's closer to the line between Blood and Time than some, but I'm holding by ground here:

(Also, here's some irony for you, she may share an aspect with the Cancer trolls, but her birthday is August 11th, making her a Leo.)

RENEE MINKOWSKI: Minkowski was the hardest of these 4 to come to a decision on. My first inclination was Mind. Her general disposition put me in mind of a Life player. But then, I sat down and thought my way past the Commander's layers of emotional armor and ultimately settled on Light.

First off, by being a stickler for protocol and procedure as well as an Actual Responsible Adult, Minkowski is a kind of character that Homestuck straight-up just does not have, so snap judgements aren't gonna cut it here. This is, again, another limitation of the classpecting system - all the examples we have to draw from are teenage disasters stuck in a lawless hellscape of some description or another, and written by an author allergic to boxing himself in with hard conclusions. But I digress.

Commander Minkowski is also stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, she digs in her heels, cranks the dial to 11, and then breaks off the knob and pockets it so you can't turn it back down. We see this as soon as episode 2, and at it's most hyperbolic when she Captain Ahabs the plant monster. Her's is iron-willed, bloody-minded, unstoppable, Determi-fucking-nation - when she sets her mind to it.

The submarine thought exercise is what had me initially lock her down as a hero of Mind before I mulled it over. The exercise is meant to provoke thought about priorities - what you think your role's purpose is in that situation will determine your priorities, and thus, your decisions. Mind heroes' most prominent skills are in riding the flow of causality, watching decisions, their causes and their consequences, and directing that path. They know people, and how to direct people. But the need for this means that they can get a little co-dependent. Other people are understandable - it's themselves that Mind heroes have the greatest struggle with. Without that vehicle of another person, Mind heroes may find themselves adrift and struggling to define themselves. This is fitting, given Mind is the most direct counterpart to the Heart aspect.

However, upon further examination, I found that this framework of priorities setting your decisions can also be extended to the Light aspect. What is "lucky" in a given situation? What do you define as a fortunate outcome? Rose arguably gets Grimdark'd by something like this, she asks the cue ball "are the horrorterrors evil?" and in doing so attempts to pry into the motivations and intent of *indescribable eldritch beings existing on a nigh-incomprehensible plane* and wedge it down into a relative human understanding of morality, which is sort of like trying to fit the Pacific Ocean into a water bottle. She was trying to deduce what impact the horrorterrors would have upon her and her friends, but asked the wrong question and got an answer she couldn't handle. She didn't recognize Doc Scratch was baiting her into this by leading her into a specific framework through which to ask the question. Vriska died because of her failure to recognize she was in a situation where luck didn't matter. Aranea got trounced because of her inability to recognize that reshuffling reality to prioritize herself and her preferred outcomes still didn't overcome the fundamental nature of timelines - you try to take over the alpha timeline with an insubordinate branch? That's a doomed timeline no matter how you slice it, and we know what happens to those. Luck and knowledge are both used by the Light-bound to give themselves power, whether in showing themselves off as The Smart One or the The Helpful One or The Unstoppable One, but their limited viewpoint often leads them to overlook the limitations of their own framework, or in other words, missing the bigger picture. I'll point out here also how Minkowski has the entire DSSPPM memorized and is the one who wants to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is really going on up at Wolf 359. Additionally, one of her other ambitions, at least once upon a time, was writing musicals. The verbal arts are one of the domains of Light players.

So while on the surface, Minkowski bears the most resemblance to a Life player, Life players tend to have an element of conformity to them. Unquestioned assumptions they've internalized have about the context in which they exist. Light heroes, on the other hand, need conformity so they have something to defy when they jump up and down screaming LOOK AT ME!

So after much pontificating, I came to a decision. In the end, what Minkowski wanted more than anything else was a stage. Maybe to direct rather than hold the spotlight, but still; that's a Light hero if ever I saw one.

#wolf 359 #homestuck #classpect meta #holy crossover batman #wolf 359 classpects

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quantumarvel · 5 years ago

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@oh-snap-bucky and I like to scream fic concepts at each other a lot. I, somehow, convinced her to let me share them with yall. Here’s a recent one.

It all started with this post (please read the tags)

Courtney: can we talk about this cause wow

Sam: you thought up an entire fic

Sam: we stan

Sam: sitting under a tree and rEADING

Courtney: Sammy help me out here cause I may just roll with this

Courtney: how do they meet?

Sam: Park? Library? Cafe?

Courtney: library

Courtney: he looks vaguely homeless and he’s BRILLIANT and studying something to do with poetry

Sam: English major? I think yes

Courtney: and she’s studying at the library and has to keep pushing her glasses back up her nose and she’s tapping her pencil on her chin

Courtney: and he can’t help but SAY SOMETHING cause she’s pretty ya know but also cause she’s currently reading the only copy of the book he needs

Courtney: and she’s like ha good luck cause this poet guy doesn’t make any sense

Courtney: and of course Bucky understands it

Courtney: but poetry isn’t her major, she just has to read it for like this one class she has to take so she can get her teaching degree

Courtney: he’s all knowledgeable in poetry and junk and she just… doesn’t get it. Like at all. And he thinks its adorable. And she’s all “I’m gonna be a history teacher idk why i even need this.”

Courtney: and being the flirt he is, he offers to tutor her

Courtney: and she knows EXACTLY what he’s doing

Courtney: says yes anyway

Courtney: so they start meeting up on Thursdays at the library

Sam: I support her saying yes anyway

Sam: bc we get that

Sam: take your chance girl

Courtney: they spend a couple of hours talking about how this poet dude was annoying and pretentious and a douche and he’s like, “just imagine all this being said but the whitest, richest, most uptight dude you can think of” and she starts to Get It but also thinking of it like that makes it SO FUNNY

Sam: “oh so he’s just being a spoiled brat?”

Sam: okay so for how long do they meet at the library?

Courtney: oh this lasts the rest of their first semester. They met in like September and they get together every Thursday and she invited him to a Halloween party some of her friends are throwing and they accidentally show up in complimenting costumes (probably different Breakfast Club characters cause I’m dumb) and he complains about having to go home for Thanksgiving (she still doesn’t know what kind of a family she comes from) and they text the whole break and when they get back they hang out so much more than just on Thursdays and by the time Christmas rolls around, they get each other the sweetest gifts right before they leave for break and standing in the train station (they’re both taking trains home but going different directions), he realizes how long he’s gonna be without her and they’re both getting kinda choked up, more than you would if you had to leave a friend for a nearly month and they’re making all these promises to call and text and “maybe I’ll write you?” and after like the nineteenth hug,

Courtney: he realizes that the girl he’s been halfway in love with since the fall maybe likes him back? the girl he’s been opening his jacket to tucking her against him to shield her from the “stupidly cold” wind. the girl that shares her candy corn and bring him hot chocolate when the temperature drops below 40. the girl who reads poetry books that he recommends cause he just KNOWS that if he finds the right style, she’ll fall in love with it. the girl that he spends so much time with that he knows which colors mean what on her color coded notes. the girl that he helped bandage up when she was too busy staring at a dog to notice the raised pavement and when she tripped, he felt it in his chest. the girl that tells him that she knows he deserves better than the hurt he carries in his eyes. the girl that doesn’t know anything about his past, but knows him. the girl he feels so lucky to be around. that girl. she’s looking at him right now like it hurts her like it does him to part ways. and maybe he realizes then that he has a chance? so he musters up just enough courage to press a kiss to her forehead and walk her to her train. as he watches her disappear down the tracks, he decided that when he sees her again after the new year, he’ll take her to a museum or a planetarium or a park or something, and he’ll ask her to take a chance on him.

Courtney: (he doesn’t get the chance because when she asks for his address to send him a Christmas card, she really drives up to Brooklyn from Boston just to give him a New Years kiss. his parents aren’t home (to his relief) but Becca absolutely adores her)

Sam: ummmmmm

Sam: that’s gorgeous

Sam: and so so so heart wrenching

Sam: but SHE DRIVES TO BOSTON

Courtney: it’s only like 200 miles yeah

Sam: only

Sam: for a kiss

Sam: that’s a lot

Sam: for a FIRST kiss at that

Courtney: okay I should clarify

Sam: yes please do

Courtney: she get there at like 7:30pm and he answers the door and he’s so happy to see her but he’s like “?? why are you here?” and she’s blushing and “well I wanted to talk to you... in private...” which makes Bucky look over at Becca who’s 15 and standing at the other end of the foyer. “It’s my house too.” And he just rolls his eyes and takes his girl outside cause that’s not the fight he wants to have rn. anyway so they go walk through the garden and it’s all so pretty cause the Christmas lights are still up and the stars are out. “what do you have to talk to me about that’s so urgent that you couldn’t wait until next week and had to drive 200 miles instead of just calling me?” he’s all smiles. “I, um... I wanted to tell you that I uh... I think I like you? Like a lot? No, I know I do. And I have, for a while. And I can’t it out of my head, when you kissed my forehead at the station, and I KNOW that sounds ridiculous and childish but I can’t stop thinking about it and how maybe you like me too and yeah sure that could’ve waited but I needed to KNOW cause to be perfectly honest, I’d really like to be your New Years kiss this year, which again, dumb and childish but I do and so I didn’t really think, I just decided to take a chance. I’m sure I’m making a complete fool of myself right now too, like that idiot poet we read about in September but you told me something once about stepping out of your comfort zone and taking chances and so that’s what I’m doing, I’m taking your advice, so you really have no one else to blame here but yourself and-“ he finally just puts a hand over her mouth cause he can tell she’s working herself up into a frenzy. When she finally looks up at him, he’s smiling. He takes his hand away, “you came a few hours early for a New Years kiss” And for some reason that embarrasses her more than anything else has. “Ugh I know I just, I just couldn’t wait any more. I paced around my parents house for three hours and spent another two in this diner once I got to town. Think I would’ve gone mad if I waited any longer.” He laughs and tells her “well it’s...” a quick glance at his watch “7:59pm right now. It’s midnight somewhere.” And even though he takes his time, and she knows what he’s about to do, the kiss still surprises her.

Sam: I’m screaming

Sam: “It’s midnight somewhere”

Sam: I can imagine Becca totally seeing all this happen from the window

Sam: keeping quiet bc “that was kinda sweet I guess”

Sam: okay okay okay even if you don’t write this part i gotta know

Sam: what happens after New Years?

Courtney: Oh after New Years, they’re disgusting. STUPIDLY in love and constant heart eyes and “darling/baby/doll/sweetheart/honey” and they’re ALWAYS TOUCHING. like, hugging all the time and holding hands and tucking hair behind her ear and linking pinkies and he always has an arm around her shoulder and it’s all adorable and innocent and TOOTH ACHINGLY SWEET. she reads to him and plays with his hair (braids it when it gets long enough) and laughs at all his jokes and just adores him. he cooks her dinner a lot and carries her books and takes pictures of her and gives so many sweet kisses on her forehead, temple, nose, chin and (finally) mouth and just adores her.

Courtney: he picks her flowers in the spring when they have a picnic by a pond and she ties them together into a crown and puts it on him. that night, he takes one and presses it into the back of the book she gave him for his birthday

Sam: I love this so much

Sam: he wears the flower crown

Sam: and rocks it

Courtney: she meets his parents at his birthday party. they insist on throwing this big party every year and this is the first year since he was like 10 that he actually enjoys it. she wears this pretty floral dress and curls her hair and just about knocks the breath out of him when he opens the door. she’s nervous and he squeezes her hand as they walk up to them. all she really remembers is Bucky introducing them and the way her mom smiles and says “so you’re the one that got him to finally shave that hobo scruff” and thing is, she wanted him to keep it cause she loved the expression on his face when he saw how it turned her skin red but he insisted on shaving it for a job interview (that his parents didn’t know about) but Bucky saves her from clarifying by saying that he’s going to take her to get something to drink. they drink punch that turns their mouths red and stay huddled together giggling in the corner (Bucky was doing his best impression of Mr. Harris from his dads company) until his mother comes and insists that he comes and mingles with company people cause in her mind, Bucky will be joining his father soon. Bucky tells his girl to meet him at the pond behind the house in half an hour before being dragged off

Sam: the look of “help me” as he’s walking away but like his ma is talking so much and his gal tells him to pay attention and he just winks before giving her this ridiculously gorgeous grin

Sam: her and becca chat a little more and she introuced her to their grandmother bc grandma Barnes couldn’t wait another second more

Courtney: I love Grandma Barnes

Sam: boo me too

Sam: literally her and his gal get on like a hose on fire and she completely forgets to meet him and he appears after waiting five minutes

Sam: his hands rest on her shoulders and he looks between them “see you two seem to be having a ball”

“oh we are”

“I was just telling this sweetheart about your 11th birthday party, do you remember that one James?”

Courtney: “There was a petting zoo incident.”

#this is embarrassing #but here it is #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine #i hate that #marvel #40s bucky #college bucky #Sebastian Stan #concepts #mine #courtney talks

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