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make-me-imagine · 3 years

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Promises Kept

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 7: "You said you wouldn't fall in love with me." "I lied."

Pairing: BJ Hunnicutt x G!N Reader

Triggers: Mentions of drinking alcohol; gunshots; and blood.

Word Count: 1.8k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000 MASH Taglist: @thatadroitgeek, @whimsical-daydreams, @meganlpie, @hybrid-omegaverse Requested Taglist: @spuffyfan394

*Angst + Fluff

**This is my first time writing for BJ; and this is an a.u. in which he is not married.

Your nerves from arriving at a new unit were barely noticeable now, as you laughed at another of B.J.s jokes. He had been there to greet you at your arrival, along with Colonel Potter. He offered to give you a tour and you gladly accepted. Now you were sitting in what he affectionately called “the swamp” where he and his bunk-mates, Dr Pierce and Dr Winchester lived together, both of whom you had met briefly in triage.

He told you of various things that happen at the unit often. You would have been convinced he was joking, had you not already witnessed a Corporal Klinger riding in on a donkey while wearing a bright pink kimono.

“Oh, I think I’m gonna like it here.” You said with a laugh as BJ finished telling another story.

“Here’s to hoping.” He said with a dopey smile as he cheersed the air with his drink before downing it.

“It also depends on if I get to stay long enough. They only had me at my last unit for a month before transferring me, I barely had time to make friends.” You said while taking a sip of your drink, there was obvious disappointment in your voice. “But I suppose that was for the better, I hate goodbyes.”

“Well I hope you will be alright with one when this war ends, ‘cause as far as I see it” He gestured between the two of you “You’ve already made one friend.” He smiled.

You smiled at him in return “Parting as friends is easier than parting as more.” You began, thinking back to a tearful goodbye you had to witness in your last unit “Being separated after you fall in love is worse.”

BJ stared at you for a moment, seeing a distant look in your eyes “Speaking from experience?”

You shook your head “Not mine.”

BJ nodded his head lightly. “If war is good for one thing, it’s learning about loss.” BJ said, a solemn tone in his voice before he shook it off. “Well, even if love is grand, the middle of a war might not be the best place for it.”

You nodded your head in agreement “Agreed.”

He lifted his glass again “Here’s to friendship in war, and hopefully no tearful goodbyes unless it’s when the war ends.”

You clinked your glass against his “Friendship in war, and nothing more.” You added on.

BJ “And as my new friend, you promise to knock me on my butt if I ever begin to fall in love with someone?”

“You got it BJ, and, as my new friend, you promise to never fall in love with me?” You asked jokingly.

BJ chuckled. “I promise.”

**Four Months Later**

You carefully watched the road in front of you as you drove the jeep over the bumpy terrain. You were anxious to get back to the 4077 quickly, you and BJ had a date. Well, not a date, just your weekly meet up as you exchanged letters from home as well as got things off your chest depending on how stressful your week had been.

You grew almost dependent on these nights with BJ, having taken solace in them to keep you sane. And as much as you hated to admit it. You broke your own promise. You had fallen in love with BJ and you knew it. You weren’t supposed to, you didn’t mean to, but it happened. You had no control over it no matter how hard you tried to resist it.

You would tell yourself that he could never feel the same, and that it was just you who failed to keep the promise. This helped to stifle the feelings you tried to repress, but also hurt you as well. At other times you convinced yourself that the war would end soon, and you’d part ways with BJ as friends, with a tearful goodbye you’d hate more than he did. But maybe, just maybe you’d meet up again after a while, and something could form from there.

Suddenly you were brought back to reality as shots rang out from the hills, piercing the jeep, you gasped and ducked down as the jeep swerved around the road. More shots rang out and you desperately drove down the road, fear gripping your mind as adrenaline shot through you.

As you rounded a corner the shots ceased as you sped back towards the MASH Unit. Seeing it down the road and in the distance you didn’t slow the jeep down.

- - -

As BJ and Hawkeye walked through the compound they looked up as a jeep sped into camp, stopping abruptly outside of the main office.

BJ recognized you in the jeep, and as he and Hawkeye saw the bullet holes littering the side of the jeep they ran over to you. Colonel Potter and Klinger, who had just exited the main office, ran over as well.

You let out a few deep breaths as the others ran up to the jeep, “Well I see you saw some action today!” Colonel Potter said as you moved to open the door.

You let out a stressed chuckle “Not as much as the jeep Sir.” As the door swung open and you stepped out, you felt a sharp pain shoot up your side, eliciting a gasp of pain as you fell to the ground.

BJ dropped down next to you, his eyes locking on the dark red seeping through the side of your jacket, his heart dropped at the realization of what happened. “You’ve been shot!” He called out, making Hawkeye signal for the orderlies to bring over a stretcher. BJ placed his hands on your side, pressing down on the wound, causing you to grimace in pain. “Come on hurry!” he called out to the orderlies.

You looked up at BJs face, seeing it covered in concern, Potter placed his hand on your shoulder “You’re gonna be alright Y/n, just hold on.”

“I don’t remember getting shot.” You mumbled out, confused as the pain spread through your body, the adrenaline previously shrouding it fading away.

“I think that’s fairly common when you’re running for your life.” Hawkeye said as he helped BJ to move you onto the stretcher.

- - - - -

BJ felt his gut twist as he stared down at you. You were now unconscious on the surgery table, blood still seeping from your side. Hawkeye watched him carefully before speaking softly “Beej are you sure you don’t want me-.”

“No.” BJ cut him off “I’ll do it.” Taking a deep breath he began to work at your wound, searching for the bullet and to try and repair what damage may have been done.

It took just under an hour before BJ was done, he had been as thorough as he could. You lost a lot of blood, and the bullet had nicked your lungs, but you were going to be alright. BJ now stared at your slumbering face as he sat at your bedside, he had finished checking your vitals and filling out your paperwork, but he couldn’t get himself to leave your side. He had too many thoughts running through his mind.

For a minute there, he really thought he might have lost you. And in that same moment, he truly realized just how strongly he felt about you. For months he had been pushing it down, trying to ignore it. He promised he wouldn’t fall in love with you, but damned if he could stop it. Thinking back on that day you met, he should have known then. He had no chance. How could he not fall for you? He wished he had never made that promise. It came off as a joke, but he knew you meant it. You both knew how easily it could be, to be torn away from someone during the war.

But as BJ stared at you, he knew he couldn’t go back now, whether you were together or not, he’d still be torn apart if he lost you. Just friends or not. So why not more?

As your eyes suddenly fluttered open, BJ sat up a bit straighter. Reaching over, he pressed his fingers against your wrist. Your pulse was normal as you opened your eyes fully and looked around.

When your eyes locked onto his and you smiled sleepily, he felt a burst of relief and happiness shoot through him. He smiled back at you and shook his head lightly “You gave me quite the scare you know?” He spoke softly.

You cleared your throat a bit “I scared myself.” You said with a quiet chuckle.

“How are you feeling?”

You sat up a bit and seemed to think to yourself a bit before nodding “I feel like I got shot.” You smiled and earned a small incredulous smile from BJ before you spoke again “I feel fine BJ, I promise.”

He nodded his head a bit “Good.” His voice was almost a whisper before he continued “No tearful goodbyes, remember?”

You nodded at him “No tearful goodbyes.” You repeated.

BJ looked around the room before back at you, moving over to sit on your bed he kept his eyes locked onto yours “I don’t ever want to feel like that again.” He admitted.

As he spoke, you could sense something in his voice, deeper than a caring friendship, so you questioned him “Feel like what?”

BJ seemed to take a breath before he spoke “Like I lost someone I love. Even if it was only for a moment, it was the worst moment of my life.”

‘Love.’ he said it, but surely he meant it as a friend. Friends can love friends. But you couldn’t help the doubt and hope that flowed through you “Love?” You asked softly.

BJ nodded his head “Yeah. Love. And not just as a friend.” He added on, contradicting your unspoken doubts.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you stared into his eyes, they were full of so much emotion as he stared at you. So it wasn’t just you who broke that promise.

“You said you wouldn’t fall in love with me.”

“I lied.”

You stared at each other in silence for a few moments, your eyes conveying so much to one another in silence. But you knew you had to break it, you knew he needed to hear it too. “Well. I’m glad I’m not the only one who broke my promise then.” You admitted, a small smile threatening to spread across your face.

A few seconds passed as BJ took in your words before a grin spread across his face. When you saw it, you could no longer hide the smile on your own. BJ shook his head a bit before he sighed out “Well, we’re just a couple of failures aren’t we?”

You let out a soft giggle “I guess we are. But...there is still one promise we need to keep.”

“What’s that?” He asked softly.

“No tearful goodbyes.”

BJ nodded before he brought up his hand to your face, gently stroking his hand across your face he leaned in close to you “None.” He said softly before he learned the rest of the way in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, which you happily returned

xx End xx

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the-king-andthe-lionheart · 3 years

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A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Arya Stark and her Cinderella Motifs

In A Song of Ice and Fire, GRRM often uses fairy tale motifs to help tell a character’s story. Sometimes this motif spans all throughout the characters arc while other times it will only be used for one or two scenes, or anywhere in between. And often one character can have several fairy tale motifs at different times in their arcs or even running concurrently. For Arya, she has quite a few fairy tale motifs in her arc, but for now I’m going to focus on her Cinderella motifs that are mainly prevalent in A Clash of Kings but do show up at other times all throughout her arc as well. I’m going to focus primarily on Arya’s A Clash of Kings arc, but we will be stopping by A Storm of Swords and A Feast for Crows a few times too. And I am going to use several versions of the retellings of Cinderella, including the Disney version, but only the 1950 original and none of its sequels. I also want to note that not all the parallels are obvious due to things being more metaphorical or symbolic, while other times being whatever subversion that tickled GRRM’s fancy at the time.

There are many common aspects across the board when it comes to Cinderella retellings. Often it entails the heroine losing one or both of her parents, being oppressed by her abusive stepmother and stepsisters and being forced into menial, backbreaking labor that leaves the heroine dirty and often covered in ashes. It usually entails a magical guardian who helps the heroine, magical transformations, ballgowns and a ball where she falls in love with either a Prince or a King. An identifying item is also involved, usually a slipper made of gold or glass, where one of the pair is lost when the heroine is running from her beloved. And the Prince/King almost always searches the realm for the woman that identifying item belongs to, and when he finds the heroine they usually marry.

Written out like that it’s hard to believe that this is a motif used for Arya. After all she’s not in the position to be going to balls and she’s just a child so it seems unlikely at the time she’s at Harrenhal she’s going to fall in love. However, this motif appears all throughout her arc in various and creative and subversive and repetitive ways, and motifs don’t have to be all or none and they don’t have to be in the order the original stories were laid out. A lot of people also don’t like the idea that Arya has an actual Disney Princess motif in her story because she’s a “tomboy”, but the fact is that Arya is a Princess at the time she’s at Harrenhal, it’s even explicitly stated in Arya X ACOK, whether people acknowledge it or not, where a lot of these motifs take place. I know some people will be dismissive of this and think I’m reaching, but I hope upon reading this I’ll have convinced you of this motif being present. :)

Step-Mother and Step-Sisters

Some of the two most common features in any variant of Cinderella is the “Persecuted Heroine” and the “Female Persecutor”. Often this manifests as the wicked stepmother and the evil step-sisters, but in some versions a stepmother does not appear, and it’s the heroine’s older sisters who confine her to the kitchens instead. In the opera, La Cenerentola, Gioachino Rossini inverted the gender roles where the heroine Cenerentola is oppressed by her stepfather. And in some retellings at least one of the step siblings is somewhat kind to the heroine even. We symbolically see these archetypes many times in Arya’s narrative with various types of inversions.

When we enter ACOK, we find a dirty and disguised Arya traveling with Yoren and the Night’s Watch recruits, having just lost her father (a subversion of the prevalent theme of Cinderella losing her mother very young). She is also being bullied by two older boys, Lommy and Hot Pie:

At Winterfell they [Sansa and Jeyne] had called her “Arya Horseface” and she’d thought nothing could be worse, but that was before the orphan boy Lommy Greenhands had named her “Lumpyhead.” - Arya I ACOK

That wasn’t the hardest part at all; Lommy Greenhands and Hot Pie were the hardest part. - Arya I ACOK

“Look at that sword Lumpyhead’s got there,” Lommy said one morning […] “Where’s a gutter rat like Lumpyhead get him a sword?”

[. . .]

“Maybe he’s a little squire,” Hot Pie put in. […] “Some lordy lord’s little squire boy, that’s it.”

“He ain’t no squire, look at him. I bet that’s not even a real sword. I bet it’s just some play sword made of tin.”

Arya hated them making fun of Needle. “It’s castle-forged steel, you stupid,” she snapped, turning in the saddle to glare at them, “and you better shut your mouth.”

The orphan boys hooted. “Where’d you get a blade like that, Lumpyface?” Hot Pie wanted to know.

“Lumpyhead,” corrected Lommy. He prob’ly stole it.”

“I did not!” she shouted. Jon Snow had given her Needle. Maybe she had to let them call her Lumpyhead, but she wasn’t going to let them call Jon a thief.

“If he stole it, we could take it off him,” said Hot Pie. “It’s not his anyhow. I could use me a sword like that.”

Lommy egged him on. “Go on, take it off him, I dare you.”

Hot Pie kicked his donkey, riding closer. “Hey, Lumpyface, you gimme that sword.” […] “You don’t know how to use it.”

[. . .]

“Look at him,” brayed Lommy Greenhands. “I bet he’s going to cry now. You want to cry, Lumpyhead?” – Arya I ACOK

In the first two quotes we have Arya likening the behavior of Hot Pie and Lommy to that of Jeyne Poole and Sansa. In AGOT, Sansa and Jeyne took on the “evil step-sister” archetype (and before anybody attacks me, I don’t think these two are actually “evil”, just children who think it’s okay to bully someone who is different from them), but now we are shown that this archetype has temporarily shifted onto Lommy and Hot Pie, with some subversions. These two are now male and they aren’t related to Arya in any way. Some variants of the Cinderella story do portray male siblings mistreating the younger “Cinderella” sibling though. One of the stories in One Thousand and One Nights depict a story called “Judar and his Brethren”, in which the main character is poisoned by his biological brothers in the end, depicting a rare tragic ending for this retelling. However, these subversions are completely fine because either way, they took on the role of the “bully” to Arya’s Cinderella archetype currently in the narrative.

Furthermore, while Septa Mordane was the obvious “wicked stepmother” archetype to Arya’s Cinderella archetype in AGOT, I think arguably this has fallen to Cersei now (and the Lannister’s as a whole). Cersei may not be present, but she is the reason why Arya is in the situation she is in right now. After all, Cersei takes on the role of “Evil Queen” for Sansa and Jon (they both share Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs motifs) so I do think she is the metaphorical “wicked stepmother” in this equation regardless of the fact that Cersei isn’t anything remotely close to a stepmother to Arya in the narrative, but she fits the general archetype of “female persecutor” the most in the current situation. For the case about Septa Mordane being a “wicked stepmother” archetype, I want to point to Cenerentola by Basile, in which the “wicked stepmother” started out as being the heroine’s governess, and Septa’s are the closest substitute to a governess in the universe of ASOIAF.

This isn’t the end to these archetypes being in play. As the early chapters of ACOK go on we see the animosity between Lommy, Hot Pie, and Arya disappear to the point where they become allies and then friends. With this shift in dynamic we see the archetypes disappearing with some of these same characters taking on entirely new Cinderella archetypes, while the “wicked stepmother” and “evil step-sibling” archetypes move onto other characters as well.

At Harrenhal we are introduced to two wicked women who next take on the “evil step-sibling” archetype, Goodwife Harra and Goodwife Amabel. These two even comment on Arya’s feet:

When Arya's turn came round, Goodwife Amabel clucked in dismay at the sight of her feet, while Goodwife Harra felt the callus on her fingers that long hours of practice with Needle had earned her. "Got those churning butter, I'll wager," she said. "Some farmer's whelp, are you? Well, never you mind, girl, you have a chance to win a higher place in this world if you work hard. If you won't work hard, you'll be beaten. And what do they call you?"

Arya dared not say her true name, but Arry was no good either, it was a boy’s name and they could see she was no boy. “Weasel,” she said, naming the first girl she could think of. “Lommy called me Weasel.”

“I can see why,” sniffed Goodwife Amabel. “That hair is a fright and a nest for lice as well. We’ll have it off, and then you’re for the kitchens.”

“I’d sooner tend the horses.” Arya liked horses, and maybe if she was in the stables she’d be able to steal one and escape.

Goodwife Harra slapped her so hard that her swollen lip broke open all over again. “And keep that tongue to yourself or you’ll get worse. No one asked your views.”

The blood in her mouth had a salty metal tang to it. Arya dropped her gaze and said nothing. If I still had Needle, she wouldn’t dare hit me, she thought sullenly.

“Lord Tywin and his knights have grooms and squires to tend their horses, they don’t need the likes of you,” Goodwife Amabel said. “The kitchens are snug and clean, and there’s always a warm fire to sleep by and plenty to eat. You might have done well there, but I can see you’re not a clever girl. Harra, I believe we should give this one to Weese.”

“If you think so, Amabel.” They gave her a shift of grey roughspun wool and a pair of ill-fitting shoes and sent her off. – Arya VI ACOK

Later Goodwife Amabel even threatens to rape Arya:

Three Frey men-at-arms were using them that morning as Arya went to the well. She tried not to look, but she could hear the men laughing. The pail was very heavy once full. She was turning to bring it back to Kingspyre when Goodwife Amabel seized her arm. The water went sloshing over the side onto Amabel's legs. "You did that on purpose," the woman screeched.

"What do you want?" Arya squirmed in her grasp. Amabel had been half-crazed since they'd cut Harra's head off.

"See there?" Amabel pointed across the yard at Pia. "When this northman falls you'll be where she is."

"Let me go." She tried to wrench free, but Amabel only tightened her fingers.

"He will fall too, Harrenhal pulls them all down in the end. Lord Tywin's won now, he'll be marching back with all his power, and then it will be his turn to punish the disloyal. And don't think he won't know what you did!" The old woman laughed. "I may have a turn at you myself. Harra had an old broom, I'll save it for you. The handle's cracked and splintery—" - Arya X ACOK

Menial, Backbreaking Labor

When Arya is enslaved and forced into the oppressive walls of Harrenhal, she is forced to scrub floors and do other menial, backbreaking work from sunrise to sunset, just like Cinderella:

Weese used Arya to run messages, draw water, and fetch food, and sometimes to serve at table in the Barracks Hall above the armory, where the men-at-arms took their meals. But most of her work was cleaning. The ground floor of the Wailing Tower was given over to storerooms and granaries, and two floors above housed part of the garrison, but the upper stories had not been occupied for eighty years. Now Lord Tywin had commanded that they be made fit for habitation again. There were floors to be scrubbed, grime to be washed off windows, broken chairs and rotted beds to be carried off. The topmost story was infested with nests of the huge black bats that House Whent had used for its sigil, and there were rats in the cellars as well . . . and ghosts, some said, the spirits of Harren the Black and his sons. – Arya VII ACOK

She spent the rest of that day scrubbing steps inside the Wailing Tower. By evenfall her hands were raw and bleeding and her arms so sore they trembled when she lugged the pail back to the cellar. Too tired even for food, Arya begged Weese's pardons and crawled into her straw to sleep. – Arya VII ACOK

Magical Transformations and Mice

In Disney’s Cinderella, the fairy godmother transforms mice into different creatures. On the road to Harrenhal, Arya not only likens herself to a sheep, but a mouse and continues her time at Harrenhal referring to herself as a “mouse”. This is also a subversion, while Cinderella in the Disney incarnation befriends mice, in our story Arya becomes the meek mouse:

On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty. – Arya VII ACOK

He does not know me, she thought. Arry was a fierce little boy with a sword, and I’m just a grey mouse girl with a pail. – Arya VII ACOK

She was very small and Harrenhal was very large, full of places where a mouse could hide. – Arya VII ACOK

Even Jaqen calls Arya a mouse:

She crept up quiet as a shadow, but he opened his eyes all the same. “She steals in on little mice feet, but a man hears,” he said. How could he hear me? She wondered, and it seemed as if he heard that as well. “The scuff of leather on stone sings loud as warhorns to a man with open ears. Clever girls go barefoot.” – Arya VIII ACOK

However, through Jaqen, Arya begins to feel more in control of her situation, stronger and is transformed, if only for a short time.

“…Some are saying it was Harren’s ghost flung him down.” He snorted to show what he thought of such notions.

It wasn’t Harren, Arya wanted to say, it was me. She has killed Chiswyck with a whisper, and she would kill two more before she was through. I’m the ghost in Harrenhal, she thought. And that night, there was one less name to hate. – Arya VII ACOK

I was a sheep, and then I was a mouse, I couldn’t do anything but hide. Arya chewed her lip and tried to think when her courage had come back. Jaqen made me brave again. He made me a ghost instead of a mouse. – Arya IX ACOK

Lucifer the Cat

In Disney’s Cinderella, Lucifer is Lady Tremaine’s cat who is described as being a sly, wicked, and manipulative mouse consumer. He spends the whole film trying to torment and catch the mice. I feel that Weese takes on aspects of this feline character, and I think this because of certain descriptors that are given to Weese to make him appear almost catlike:

“Weasel,” Weese purred, “next time I see that mouth droop open, I’ll pull out your tongue and feed it to my bitch.” – Arya VII ACOK

In his own small strutting way, Weese was nearly as scary as Ser Gregor. The Mountain swatted men like flies, but most of the time he did not even seem to know the fly was there. Weese always knew you were there, and what you were doing, and sometimes what you were thinking. He would hit at the slightest provocation, and he had a dog who was near as bad as he was, an ugly spotted bitch that smelled worse than any dog Arya had ever known. Once she saw him set the dog on a latrine boy who’d annoyed him. She tore a big chunk out of the boy’s calf while Weese laughed. – Arya VII ACOK

So here we have Weese purring, strutting, being compared to the Mountain who swats at peoples, and being watchful and observant, very much like a cat. And like in the movie, a dog attacks him. Now Weese didn’t fall from a tower window, but Chiswyck fell/was pushed. Considering these two are the two people Arya had Jaqen kill, I wouldn’t be surprised if they are meant to make up two halves of a whole in this regard. After all, they are both wicked creatures who prey upon the weak, just like Lucifer and they both got their just desserts for it.

Jaq the Mouse

In Disney’s Cinderella, Cinderella rescues mice from traps, as well as from Lucifer, and dresses and feeds them. They perform favors in return. At the beginning of the film, a mouse named Gus is trapped in a cage, and the leader of the mice finds him and retrieves Cinderella to free him. The leader of the mice is a mouse named Jaq, and he was also a mouse that was saved by Cinderella from a cage. This sounds awfully familiar…

Rushing through the barn doors was like running into a furnace. The air was swirling with smoke, the back wall a sheet of fire ground to roof. Their horses and donkeys were kicking and rearing and screaming. The poor animals, Arya thought. Then she saw the wagon, and the three men manacled to its bed. Biter was flinging himself against the chains, blood running down his arms from where the iron clasped his wrists. Rorge screamed curses, kicking at the wood. “Boy!” called Jaqen H’ghar. “Sweet boy!”

[. . .]

“Good boys, kind boys,” called Jaqen H’ghar, coughing.

“Get these fucking chains off!” Rorge screamed.

[. . .]

Going back into that barn was the hardest thing she ever did. Smoke was pouring out the open door like a writhing black snake, and she could hear the screams of the poor animals inside, donkeys and horses and men. She chewed her lip, and darted through the doors, crouched low where the smoke wasn’t quite so thick.

A donkey was caught in a ring of fire, shrieking in terror and pain. She could smell the stench of burning hair. The roof was gone up too, and things were falling down, pieces of flaming wood and bits of straw and hay. Arya put a hand over her mouth and nose. She couldn’t see the wagon for the smoke, but she could still hear Biter screaming. She crawled toward the sound.

And then a wheel was looming over her. The wagon jumped and moved a half foot when Biter threw himself against his chains again. Jaqen saw her, but it was too hard to breathe, let alone talk. She threw the axe into the wagon. Rorge caught it and lifted it over his head, rivers of sooty sweat pouring down his noseless face. Arya was running, coughing. She heard the steel crash through the old wood, and again, again. An instant later came a crack as loud as thunder, and the bottom of the wagon came ripping loose in an explosion of splinters. – Arya IV ACOK

So here we have Jaq who is leader of the mice, who also helps Cinderella by doing her favors. Then we have Jaqen H’ghar who is the leader of Rorge and Biter (this name seems even more fitting now) and who is performing favors for Arya, which leads me to Jaqen’s dual Cinderella archetype: Fairy Godmother.

Magical Helpers

Some versions of Magical Helpers come from fairy godmothers or talking animals or genies. In other versions this help comes to the heroine through her dead mother, often manifesting through animal aid. In One Thousand and One Nights, in the story of “Judar and his Brethren” Judar is our Cinderella figure, whose own brothers betray and poison him, but before that he was gifted a genie named Al-Ra’ad al-Kasif who granted Judar’s wishes. In the passage below Jaqen grants Arya three “wishes” which is typical for genies to grant in our popular consciousness:

She remembered that she hated him. “You scared me. You’re one of them now, I should have let you burn. What are you doing here? Go away or I’ll yell for Weese.”

“A man pays his debts. A man owes three.”

“Three?”

“The Red God has his due, sweet girl, and only death may pay for life. This girl took three that were his. This girl must give three in their places. Speak the names, and a man will do the rest.”

He wants to help me, Arya realized with a rush of hope that made her dizzy. “Take me to Riverrun, it’s not far, if we stole some horses we could—”

He laid a finger on her lips. “Three lives you shall have of me. No more, no less. Three and we are done. So a girl must ponder.” He kissed her hair softly. “But not too long.” – Arya VII ACOK

Later, we also see that “wishes” have consequences, which is also prevalent when genies are concerned. GRRM himself is a big fan of consequences and unintended side effects.

Jaqen is not Arya’s only form of Magical Help at Harrenhal however. Jaqen may take on the role of Fairy Godmother/Genie, but we also see Arya experiencing the help of not only an animal aid, but from a dead parent. For instance, the heroine in Aschenputtel, by the Brother’s Grimm, is given a hazel twig by her father that she plants over her mother’s grave. She waters it with tears and over the years it grows into a glowing hazel tree. The girl prays under it three times a day, chanting, and a bird emerges from it that grants her wishes. There are two instances of something similar happening in the books:

In the godswood she found her broomstick sword where she had left it, and carried it to the heart tree. There she knelt. Red leaves rustled. Red eyes peered inside her. The eyes of the gods. “Tell me what to do, you gods,” she prayed.

For a long moment there was no sound but the wind and the water and the creak of leaf and limb. And then, far far off, beyond the godswood and the haunted towers and the immense stone walls of Harrenhal, from somewhere out in the world, came the long lonely howl of a wolf. Gooseprickles rose on Arya’s skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father’s voice. “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” he said.

“But there is no pack,” she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. “I’m not even me now, I’m Nan.”

“You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you.”

“The wolf blood.” Arya remembered now. “I’ll be as strong as Robb. I said I would.” She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth. – Arya X ACOK

Here we see an inversion. Arya’s mother isn’t dead at this time, but her father, Ned is. He is who we hear through the heart tree giving Arya this empowering “Mufasa” moment that gives way to Arya’s true transformation in this arc, she reclaims her identity. And as soon as Arya asks the old gods for aid, a wolf howls in the distance as if in answer. It’s not confirmed but I do truly believe that this howl came from Nymeria, by way of the Old Gods/Greenseers, who somehow helped strengthen their bond. It is after this moment that Arya starts having full on wolf dreams in earnest and it’s through her first wolf dream that we see that Nymeria may have become Arya’s animal aid:

Her dreams were red and savage. The Mummers were in them, four at least, a pale Lyseni and a dark brutal axeman from Ib, the scarred Dothraki horse lord called Iggo and a Dornishman whose name she never knew. On and on they came, riding through the rain in rusting mail and wet leather, swords and axe clanking against their saddles. They thought they were hunting her, she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong. She was hunting them.

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could small the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. The Lyseni’s mount reared and screamed in terror, and the others shouted at one another in mantalk, but before they could act the other wolves came hurtling from the darkness and the rain, a great pack of them, gaunt and wet and silent.

The fight was short but bloody. The hairy man went down as he unslung his axe, the dark one died stringing an arrow, and the pale man from Lys tried to bolt. Her brothers and sisters ran him down, turning him again and again, coming at him from all sides, snapping at the legs of his horse and tearing the throat from the rider when he came crashing to the earth. – Arya I ASOS

We see here that Nymeria and her pack protected Arya, Gendry, and Hot Pie against their pursuers after their escape from Harrenhal.

Here is another instance of Arya praying under the heart tree:

Arya went to her knees. She wasn’t sure how she should begin. She clasped her hands together. Help me, you old gods, she prayed silently. Help me get those men out of the dungeon so we can kill Ser Amory, and bring me home to Winterfell. Make me a water dancer and a wolf and not afraid again, ever.

Was that enough? Maybe she should pray aloud if she wanted the old gods to hear. Maybe she should pray longer. Sometimes her father had prayed a long time, she remembered. But the old gods had never helped him. Remembering that made her angry. “You should have saved him,” she scolded the tree. “He prayed to you all the time. I don’t care if you help me or not. I don’t think you could even if you wanted to.”

“Gods are not mocked, girl.”

The voice startled her. She leapt to her feet and drew her wooden sword. Jaqen H’ghar stood so still in the darkness that he seemed one of the trees. “A man comes to hear a name. One and two and then comes three. A man would have done.”

Arya lowered the splintery point toward the ground. “How did you know I was here?”

“A man sees. A mean hears. A man knows.”

She regarded him suspiciously. Had the gods sent him? “How’d you make the dog kill Weese? Did you call Rorge and Biter up from hell? Is Jaqen H’ghar your true name?

“Some men have many names. Weasel. Arry. Arya.”

She backed away from him, until she was pressed against the heart tree. “Did Gendry tell?”

“A man knows,” he said again. “My lady of Stark.”

Maybe the gods had sent him in answer to her prayers. – Arya IX ACOK

In Cenerentola, the heroine’s (Zezolla) father is given a date seedling by a fairy and he gives it to his daughter. Zezolla cultivates the tree in which a fairy lives. This fairy gives Zezolla magical aid. When Arya prayed beneath the heart tree in the above quote it almost seems like Jaqen appeared from the trees, leaving Arya to question if the old gods sent him.

And like in Aschenputtel and Disney’s Cinderella, Arya spends time at Harrenhal singing/chanting to herself as well:

Barefoot surefoot lightfoot, she sang under her breath. I am the ghost in Harrenhal. – Arya IX ACOK

This is very strange for a couple of reasons. When we first meet Arya she claims not to like songs and doesn’t sing. She continues this up until she goes to Braavos. There she discovers that she likes the bawdy songs when she is using the name, Cat of the Canals. The only exception to this is when Arya is at Harrenhal. Another reason this is odd is because of where Arya is at physically and mentally. So either Arya was always lying about not liking songs, or Arya singing here is supposed to tell us something.

And while this might not mean anything, I found it interesting that Arya spends a lot of her time in ACOK barefoot. Now Cinderella isn’t really said to be barefoot in the stories, but she did usually lose a shoe when running away from the Prince/King, hence making her barefoot. When Arya decides to escape Harrenhal, she does don a pair of shoes again and from then on out she mostly wears them. This also leads to a fun bit of subversion. In the originals tales it’s always the Prince/King saving Cinderella from further oppression. But in Arya X ACOK, not only did she (a princess) plan the escape, but she saves Gendry, a lost (albeit bastard) prince, along with Hot Pie, from further oppression (and torture and death) by their slavers in their prison camp. (Hot Pie definitely reminds me of Gus Gus as well by the way :D)

From Rags to Riches

In many versions of Cinderella, we also see the heroine become physically transformed. The heroine is usually dirty, covered in ashes, and wearing “rags” before they are made over. In the most popular version, Disney’s Cinderella, the Fairy Godmother magically turns her from dirty household servant to highborn lady, adorning her in a silver ballgown and glass slippers. In Ye Xian, magical fish bones, help the heroine dress appropriately for a local Festival, including a light, golden shoe. And in Aschenputtel, the doves that emerge from her hazel tree, that grant the heroine wishes, drop a gold and silver gown and silk shoes down to her to wear to the ball. Also, noticeably, this is the time the Prince/King notices Cinderella and finally “sees” her.

While we didn’t get anything like that in ACOK, we don’t have to look much farther than ASOS, when Arya goes to Acorn Hall and meets Lady Smallwood, who puts her in two different dresses:

And afterward, they insisted she dress herself in girl’s things, brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift, and over that a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem. – Arya IV ASOS

It was even worse than before; Lady Smallwood insisted that Arya take another bath, and cut and comb her hair besides; the dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls. The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it. – Arya IV ASOS

And while there is no ball, Arya and Gendry spend their time in the forge together. This is the very first time Gendry has seen Arya look like a proper lady. Cinderella and Arya are no longer dirty and in rags and they are now in gowns looking their place in society, despite Arya’s dress not being nearly as grand. However, it’s enough of a change for Gendry to finally realize just who Arya truly is when it comes to her place in the world. And judging by his behavior after this event, he also begins to acknowledge that if he continues to stay by her side he could potentially love her romantically in the future as well:

Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away.

[. . .]

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. “You look different now. Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though. A nice oak tree.” He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. “You even smell nice for a change.” – Arya IV ASOS

Runaway Princess

Now we may not have had a ball, but while taking shelter in a stone stable with the Brotherhood Without Banners, Arya does run outside, trying to get away from everyone:

His words beat at her ears like the pounding of a drum, and suddenly it was more than Arya could stand. She wanted Riverrun, not Acorn Hall; she wanted her mother and her brother Robb, not Lady Smallwood or some uncle she never knew. Whirling, she broke for the door, and when Harwin tried to grab her arm she spun away from him quick as a snake.

Outside the stables the rain was still falling, and distant lightning flashed in the west. Arya ran as fast as she could. She did not know where she was going, only that she wanted to be alone, away from all the voices, away from their hollow words and broken promises. All I wanted was to go to Riverrun. It was her own fault, for taking Gendry and Hot Pie with her when she left Harrenhal. She would have been better alone. If she had been alone, the outlaws would never have caught her, and she’d be with Robb and her mother by now. They were never my pack. If they had been, they wouldn’t leave me. She splashed through a puddle of muddy water. Someone was shouting her name, Harwin probably, or Gendry, but the thunder drowned them out as it rolled across the hills half a heartbeat behind the lightning. The lightning lord, she thought angrily. Maybe he couldn’t die, but he could lie. – Arya VIII ASOS

Now it’s not explicitly clear that it was Gendry who ran after Arya, calling her name, but due to the possible symbolism in the scene, and also his behavior in AFFC, it makes me think it was him. But whether he was or not I believe just Arya believing it might be him makes this applicable enough as a loose parallel for the Prince chasing after Cinderella, only for Cinderella to disappear like in many of the Cinderella retellings.

Searching the Realm

At the end of ASOS in the epilogue we learn that Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood Without Banners, who Gendry is a part of is actively searching for Arya:

The outlaw gave him (Merrett Frey) an encouraging smile. “Well, as it happens, we’re looking for a dog that ran away.”

“A dog?” Merrett was lost. “What kind of dog?”

“He answers to the name Sandor Clegane […] Did you see him at the wedding, perchance?”

[. . .]

“He would have had a child with him,” said the singer. “A skinny girl, about ten. Or perhaps a boy the same age.”

“I don’t think so,” said Merrett. “Not that I knew.” – Epilogue ASOS

In many retellings of the Cinderella story, the Prince/King searches the realm looking for the heroine with an identifying item, and typically that item is a shoe of some sort. Once the shoe is placed on the heroine’s foot it symbolically means the heroine is reclaiming her identity. Arya, however, didn’t lose a shoe, and I’d argue that when Ned/the Old Gods/the Greenseers spoke to Arya through the heart tree, empowering Arya, that’s when Arya reclaimed her identity, at least for that time as Arya must reclaim her identity multiple times in her arc. I’d argue that Arya’s connection to the North and her family is her overall identifying item. But I fully believe Gendry himself might be another “identifying item,” along with him still taking on the archetypal role of “prince”.

Why do I say this? Because in AFFC Gendry is stationed at one of the last known places Arya was sighted at with the Hound, the Crossroads Inn, where he is blacksmithing while also helping to look after orphans. He was likely stationed there by Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood Without Banners because he knew Arya the best out of everyone (remember LSH would probably have a hard time recognizing Arya after two plus years and a resurrection). So if she returned, he would not only have a better chance at recognizing her, but also possibly a better chance at keeping her there compared to anyone else. If people are doubting that this is Gendry’s role, just remember that the BWB is actively looking for Arya, and also note Gendry’s personality shift post-ASOS. Gendry has always been rude and moody, but in AFFC it has been taken to the extreme. He is absolutely furious and instead of being just plain rude, he’s actually become mean and more violent. He also seems to have something against the Hound now, someone who he previously had nothing against during the Hound’s trial by combat earlier in ASOS:

…The boy came and stood beside her, his hammer in his hand.

Lightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses. For half a heartbeat darkness turned to day. An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling.

Gendry saw it too. “Him.”

“Not him. His helm.” Brienne tried to keep the fear from her voice, but her mouth was dry as dust. – Brienne VII AFFC

That “him” was very pointed and because of the symbolism in the scene surrounding that “him” and the overall change in Gendry’s behavior I definitely take it to mean Gendry does have a problem with the Hound now. So what changed? The Hound kidnapped Arya. I think it’s safe to say that Gendry is just as invested as the rest of the BWB, if not more so, to finding Arya again, hence making him the “prince” searching the realm for his lost Cinderella.

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

In Disney’s Cinderella, songs like “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”, “So This Is Love”, “Cinderella”, “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes”, “Oh, Sing Sweet Nightingale”, and “The Work Song” are included into the film. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen something like this in the previous retellings however. Like I mentioned earlier the Brother’s Grimm, Aschenputtel, features this as well to some extant. In Aschenputtel, the heroine would “sing a chant” to call upon the white doves that came from her glowing hazel tree. These birds would help her grant wishes and help her complete tasks, and it was most likely the inspiration for why birds were included in the Disney version, although birds have featured in more than just Aschenputtel. I mention this because GRRM wrote Arya a song in the novels:

“My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

“And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him,

no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass.”

This is very clearly a love song also and we know it’s most likely about Arya and her foreshadowing a possible future relationship with Gendry. And it’s very clearly about them as Gendry is a bastard Baratheon “prince”, hence the mentions of “yellow silk” and a “crown”, and also because Arya quite literally is dressed as an oak tree at this time and almost a maiden and will be a maiden when they reunite later in the series. We also know the song is meant to foreshadow them because of the context. Tom O’Seven’s specifically winked at Arya as he sang this song, and after the song was sung Lady Smallwood, when taking Arya to get changed into a different dress, said to Arya, “I have no gowns of leaves,” which further tells the readers that this song is Arya’s song, her future love song.

A Mother’s Legacy

In the Magical Helpers section above I mentioned that a dead parent may be the one to help the heroine instead of the typical fairy godmother, by either sending an animal to aid the heroine and/or granting wishes, or by the heroine’s mother transforming into an animal. In some Greek versions, in “the Balkan-Slavonic tradition of the tale”, and in some Central Asian variants, the heroine’s mother comes back as a cow who is then killed by the heroine’s sisters. The heroine eventually gathers the bones and from her mother’s grave the heroine is gifted wonderful dresses. In other variants, the heroine’s dead mother comes back as a fish or a female dog. These animals represent the heroine’s mother’s legacy.

Jon chuckled. “Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister. Wed Tully to Stark in your arms.”

“A wolf with a fish in its mouth?” It made her laugh. “That would look silly…” – Arya I AGOT

That night she went to sleep thinking of her mother, and wondering if she should kill the Hound in his sleep and rescue Lady Catelyn herself. When she closed her eyes she saw her mother’s face against the back of her eyelids. She’s so close I could almost smell her…

…and then she could smell her. The scent was faint beneath the other smells, beneath moss and mud and water, and the stench of rotting reeds and rotting men. She padded slowly through the soft ground to the river’s edge, lapped up a drink, then lifted her head to sniff. The sky was grey and thick with cloud, the river green and full of floating things. Dead men clogged the shallows, some still moving as the water pushed them, others washed up on the banks. Her brothers and sisters swarmed around them, tearing at the rich ripe flesh.

[. . .]

The scent was stronger now [. . .] Only the scent mattered. She sniffed the air again. There it was, and now she saw it too, something pale and white drifting down the river, turning where it brushed against a snag. The reeds bowed down before it.

She splashed noisily through the shallows and threw herself into the deeper water, her legs churning. The current was strong but she was stronger. She swam, following her nose. The river smells were rich and wet, but those were not the smells that pulled her. She paddled after the sharp red whisper of cold blood, the sweet cloying stench of death. She chased them as she had often chased a red deer through the trees, and in the end she ran them down, and her jaw closed around a pale white arm. She shook it to make it move, but there was only death and blood in her mouth. By now she was tiring, and it was all she could do to pull the body back to shore. As she dragged it up the muddy bank, one of her little brothers came prowling, his tongue lolling from his mouth. She had to snarl to drive him off, or else he would have fed. Only then did she stop to shake the water from her fur. The white thing lay facedown in the mud, her dead flesh wrinkled and pale, cold blood trickling from her throat. Rise, she thought. Rise and eat and run with us. – Arya XII ASOS

“So you sewed his head on Robb Stark’s neck after both o’ them were dead,” said yellow cloak.

“My [Merrett Frey] father did that [. . .] I only drank some wine…you have no witness.”

“As it happens, you’re wrong there.” The singer turned to the hooded woman. “Milady?”

The outlaws parted as she came forward, saying no word. When she lowered her hood, something tightened inside Merrett’s chest, and for a moment he could not breathe. No. No, I saw her die. She was dead for a day and night before they stripped her naked and threw her body in the river. Raymund opened her throat from ear to ear. She was dead.

Her cloak and collar hid the gash his brother’s blade had made, but her face was even worse than he remembered. The flesh had gone pudding soft in the water and turned the color of curdled milk. Half her hair was gone and the rest had turned as white and brittle as a crone’s. Beneath her ravaged scalp, her face was shredded skin and black blood where she had raked herself with her nails. But her eyes were the most terrible thing. Her eyes saw him, and they hated.

“She don’t speak,” said the big man in the yellow cloak. “You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers.” He turned to the dead woman and said, “What do you say, m’lady? Was he part of it?”

Lady Catelyn’s eyes never left him. She nodded. – Epilogue ASOS

In the Chinese retelling of Cinderella, Ye Xian, the heroine befriends a fish, which is the reincarnation of her deceased mother. In The Story of Tam and Cam, a Vietnamese version, the heroine Tam also had a fish which was killed by the stepmother and the half-sister, and its bones also give her clothes. And a typical scene in Kapmalaien tales is the mother becoming a fish, being eaten in fish form, the daughter burying her bones and a tree sprouting from her grave.

So not only is Lady Catelyn a symbolic fish, a daughter of House Tully, but she’s also been resurrected (reincarnated), and is looking specifically for our heroine, Arya, who I believe will be gifted several various things (both good and bad) by this incarnation of her mother, but we shall see if the parallel continues when TWOW and ADOS come out.

Conclusion

I really hope that after you read this monster you were as convinced as I am that Arya indeed has Cinderella motifs, and an extensive amount of them as well. Whatever it may mean I don’t rightly know, but what I do know is that at the end of the day, the many stories of Cinderella are an analogy. An analogy about someone “who unexpectedly achieves recognition or success after a period of obscurity and neglect”. Of someone whose attributes were unrecognized in their society, only for them to be recognized. And I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty hand in hand with one of her other biggest fairy tale motifs as well that runs concurrently with the Cinderella motif, and that is the story of “The Ugly Duckling”, who after years of neglect, finds acceptance within society, as well as self-acceptance within themselves. :)

#arya stark #gendrya #asoiaf

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nochiquinn · 2 years

Text

campaign 3 episode 15: I hate it

I'm late bc I was watching yugioh with my partner

as one does

"good luck playing next to that tonight"

"save me liam"

laura's braids ❤

"cyrus had fucked up so deeply"

"meaty sword" is a euphemism from a 00's slash fic

cries

what's the bells hells poly ship name

t r a v i s

liam

laura

"youngin'"

"I'm literally bathing in wood chips"

fantasy uggs

"I wish to be difficult to kill" is a hell of a line

detect magic monocle???

"the wilds are fucked and we should abandon ship"

travis stop trolling your wife

"he just gave up at the end"

poor matt, it's 1v8 with every sentence that comes out of his mouth

me trying to answer any question my child asks

"like the shocker?"

"I don't believe in manmade spire change" SAM

flat exandrier

chetney: side quest cleanup time

map cam!!

"you can ride the donkey or you can take the tram, it is the same price"

chetney

somewhere in thedas shale's eyes light up

"they've got weird dead animal sayings"

horse girl imogen supremacy

imogen: I am aware of the general lifespan of horses around adventuring parties

SAMUEL

you ain't gettin me to no secondary location

we get it you own a thesaurus

"ooh, I speak marquesian"

THE SIT AND SPIN

god I want to give both of these people a swirly

oh, marisha has a stardew valley shirt!!

"they're smarter than they look" that's not hard

oh fuck o f f

"to see if the name sticks?"

22 is the new nein

"a 1 usually counts for two failures" "shut your mouth"

"you've got faces that say - " "run?"

I'm travis going through his notes early c1

"'I don't trust clarota' 'I don't trust clarota!' 'I! don't! trust! clarota!'"

I was waiting for a Nott the Best reference

this is an awkward exes conversation

"you have no spell slots. I filled them" 👀

ohhhhhhh

this is what happens when you date batman villains

crownset cavern 100% sounds like a pokemon route

two YEARS

"magically fascinating watching matt drag himself"

orym: I am uncomfortable with the energy we have created in the studio today

fcg: I don't know what to do with that

"I said I'd be his friend" yeah and that's a threat

travis: clear ur fuckin corners

the psychic damage I took at the phrase "self-quarantine"

damn

oh I hate it

psyche-locks

liam commiting to the bit hard

this is a mass effect 1 elevator

something something the buried

"did he just change the music"

every time I see sam's shirt I think it's captain hammer

matt do not call initiative at 1 am

fuck I checked !runtime, he's gonna call initiative at 1 am

yes. yes! mister is LOOSE!

DE ROLO PEE BREAK

time rage!!

I hate it

dice are bonkers tonight

storm orb...broken...

travis: blood maledict me: [kill bill sirens]

dice are BONKERS tonight!!

marisha forgot how to chair so hard she thinks table is chair

oh, I've been working, I didn't realize the walls have a Cave Setting

"y'ant to" I am Seen

so much campaign 2 salt tonight

she's got nippleless anime tiddies

oh I hate it

"everybody pray to fcg"

can't wait for this plan to go to shit in the first six seconds

see? see? what'd I say

hey? hey matt? hey matthew? hey matthew what the f u c k

#critical role #spoilers #crititag #liveblog #reaction post

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fedonciadale · 3 years

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How would you describe Arya feminity in asioaf? Is she a tomboy? Arya stans blame everything on society for forcing her to follow the traditional roles, many times it feels like she isn't actually interested. Or think Sansa feminity is performative while Arya feminity is woke.

Hi there!

I do think it is more complicated than that. Ary@ certainly seems like a tomboy, she is certainly gender non conforming. She despises traditional female activity and she wants to do ‘boyish’ stuff. I am not sure, if she sees this as boyish though. I think she rather sees it as adventurous, exciting, not necessarily as boyish.

So, as I see her, I think it is rather about what she thinks is interesting than what she thinks is girly. BookAry@ would never say something like “most girls are stupid” as ShowAry@ did. She doesn’t like the ‘romantic crap’ so to say but that is not unusual for a girl of 8. I think that many things come into Ary@ wanting to do ‘boyish’ stuff. I count them here and give some evidence from the books.

a) what she thinks is interesting (and male coded activity is more interesting for her only that it is not necessary the ‘male coded’ that allures her

“Needlework is not fun” (AGOT, Ary@ I)

Her father had hunted boar in the wolfswood with Robb and Jon. Once he even took Bran, but never Ary@ , even though she was older. Septa Mordane said boar hunting was not for ladies, and Mother only promised that when she was older she might have her own hawk. (ACOK, Ary@ V)

b) she is in a situation of rivalry with her sister who is only two years older. It is quite common that the older girl is gc and the younger girl is gnc, because children of the same sex tend to try to be completely different. The position of the Little Lady is already taken by Sansa. Some of Ary@ ’s wishes are motivated by her wish to be different from Sansa. She is not as gifted as Sansa in some regard (needlework, singing, playing the harp, rememberging coats of arms), so she looks for activities that Sansa is not good at: Riding e.g. She is jealous and wants to carve out her own corner.

It wasn't fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Ary@ had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Ary@ took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Ary@ Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. It hurt that the one thing Ary@ could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. If she did marry Prince Joff, Ary@ hoped for his sake that he had a good steward. (AGOT, Ary@ I)

"That's enough." Her father's voice was curt and hard. "The septa is doing no more than is her duty, though gods know you have made it a struggle for the poor woman. Your mother and I have charged her with the impossible task of making you a lady." (AGOT, Ary@ II)

c) many of Ary@ ’s problems with the traditional role of the lady are not necessarily about the ‘girly’ things, but more about her agency. She hates being a mouse. That is why she lashes out and can be even quite brutal (Lommy Greenhands and Lem Lemoncloak)

The woman is important too (AGOT, Ary@ I)

Lommy Greenhands wasn't even hurt, yet he stayed as far away from Ary@ as he could get. "Every time you look at him, he twitches," the Bull told her as she walked beside his donkey. She did not answer. It seemed safer not to talk to anyone. (ACOK, Ary@ I)

On the road Ary@ had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty. (ACOK, Ary@ VII)

Jaqen still owed her one death. In Old Nan's stories about men who were given magic wishes by a grumkin, you had to be especially careful with the third wish, because it was the last. Chiswyck and Weese hadn't been very important. The last death has to count, Ary@ told herself every night when she whispered her names. But now she wondered if that was truly the reason she had hesitated. So long as she could kill with a whisper, Ary@ need not be afraid of anyone . . . but once she used up the last death, she would only be a mouse again. (ACOK, Ary@ IX)

"She broke my nose." Lem dumped her unceremoniously to the floor. "Who in seven hells is she supposed to be?""The Hand's daughter." Harwin went to one knee before her. "Ary@ Stark, of Winterfell."(ASOS, Ary@ II)

"Yes." That he was not Robb's man, she understood well enough. And that she was his captive. I could have stayed with Hot Pie. We could have taken the little boat and sailed it up to Riverrun. She had been better off as Squab. No one would take Squab captive, or Nan, or Weasel, or Arry the orphan boy. I was a wolf, she thought, but now I'm just some stupid little lady again. (ASOS, Ary@ III)

d) Ary@ disguises herself as a boy, and this is actually part of her journey to partly lose her identity. That is ultimately the reason why I think, she will find her own way once she has reclaimed her identity as Ary@ Stark.

Broken Nose guffawed. The officer looked her up and down. "Put the blade away, little girl, no one wants to hurt you."

"I'm not a girl!" she yelled, furious. What was wrong with them? They rode all this way for her and here she was and they were just smiling at her. "I'm the one you want." (ACOK, Ary@ II)

"She's no use," Gendry repeated stubbornly. "Her and Hot Pie and Lommy, they're slowing us down, and they're going to get us killed. You're the only one of the bunch who's good for anything. Even if you are a girl."

Ary@ froze in her steps. "I'm not a girl!" (ACOK, Ary@ V)

So, I would say that the situation is complex and that many factors come into it, and that ‘tomboy’ is just not enough to describe Ary@ . What I really like about her is that for all her wishes to find her own way, for all her rivalry with Sansa, she does not look down on women with internalized misogyny like it is common for the “not like other girls trope”. She is nice enough to the women she meets on the road, even if she is not interested in feminine activities. I doubt this is feminism though, because none of the women in ASOIAF is a feminist. They fight for their own rights and that might influence in the long run how women are seen in their world, but the system already allows for some ‘exceptions’ like the law of succession in Dorne and the women of Bear Island. I certainly wouldn’t call Ary@ ‘woke’. None of the people in ASOIAF are. They are all products of their environment and as much as I like the Starks they are all privileged upper class people and that shows. That all the women experience patriarchy as a system that puts them at a disadvantage does not mean that they understand that. Sansa’s and Ary@ ’s experiences might be different but both suffer from patriarchy, and they both want to change things for the better, for themselves and up to a certain point for other people as well.

Thanks for the ask (and please censure the name the next tame, I have no time and patience for the crazies)

#anon ask #Ary@#I'll avoid tagging her

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cloud9in · 3 years

Text

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1-

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

- Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this.

...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine.

My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows.

***

...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed.

Sincerely, your STD free son

It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced.

Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life.

Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

Song lyrics…

That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest.

Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet?

***

The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her.

Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

“6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.”

Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

“Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

“Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

“Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

***

Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

“Hey!”

He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

“Hey wait up!”

The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

“I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

“No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

“Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

“I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

“No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

“Well you see it’s a letter..”

“Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

“I thought it seemed romantic..”

“And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

“I- I can’t help you.”

“But if you just add a few more words-”

“I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social.

Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!”

Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be?

But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

***

“One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

“Deal!”

Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

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

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mc x poppy #playchoices #I couldn't come up with a unique title #throw some ideas if you have #do share your opinion on this #it is valued #oblivious bea is a pain in the ass #but certainly fun to write

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ratedbangtann · 4 years

Text

The Game ~ KNJ (18+)

↳ summary - “Behave yourself tonight, _____,” he warned. “I mean it. Too far, and I’ll be forced to act.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll play fair, I promise,” you smiled, fluttering your perfectly permed eyelashes at him.

And with that, the game was on…

↳ rating - explicit/18+

↳ word count - 8.3k

↳ pairing - namjoon x reader

↳ genre - established relationship, alternative universe, CEO Namjoon, angst, smut

↳ warnings - teasing (oh, so much…), flirting with others, angry Joon, rough Joon, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk (incl. name calling), unprotected sex, rough sex

↳ a.n - okay so yeah hi it's been nearly 5 months since i posted an au please don't hate me life has been ROUGH but here have this little gem that was commissioned by a lovely twitter follower of mine.If you'd like your own commission or to leave me a tip, head over to https://ko-fi.com/ratedbangtann (i just lost my job thanks to corona so anything helps, honestly) **************************************************

Your husband’s words echoed around inside your head, a strangely sadistic little grin on your face that only you knew the reasoning behind.

“Behave yourself tonight, _____.”

You had promised you would, but were you being entirely truthful? Absolutely not. On a night like tonight, how could you possibly not use your charms to get ahead? That was the foundation of your company, after all; the charms you had used on your husband and his clients to merge your small business with his much larger enterprise.

Of course, you hadn’t done this with malice, and you certainly hadn’t expected to fall in love with the CEO of the company you flirted your way into… Not until he called you out on your charm, made light of it, and explained that actually, he saw you as a very smart and beautiful woman with a drive that precluded any other potential businesses he was contemplating to taking on.

Four years of happy marriage later, you had become co-CEO of Kim Enterprises – a main hub for all things fashion and retail, with 32 different brand names coming under the Kim umbrella; including your very own line of gorgeous evening wear.

Tonight, yourself and your husband were holding a company event at a hotel, hiring out the ballroom to bring together the heads of each of these little companies you had dominion over in order to impress a handful of investors to buy shares in Kim products. This was your specialty, and you were certainly going to whip out your charm tonight.

However, in the back of the Bentley that had driven you and your partner to the ball, your husband was already way ahead of you…

*************************************************

He looked handsome, as always. His silver hair perfectly quaffed and styled with a side part, round-rim glasses poised on the end of his nose, sharp grey suit fitted perfectly to his wide shoulders and thick arms. His hand had been affectionately poised on your bare knee for the duration of the ride, the flesh of your right leg beautifully displayed through the slit in your evening dress – from your own company, of course.

Just five minutes away from your destination, you felt his grip tighten a little, and slide a little further up your thigh, enjoying the softness of your skin on the inside of your leg. He was staring down at his own hand, watching his thumb draw circles on your skin with a look of deep thought on his face.

“You look a little apprehensive, Joonie. Are you alright?” you had asked, concern laced in your tone with perhaps a little mischief. He hummed in response, not looking up at you and instead still very much intent on his thumb grazing your skin.

“You look so beautiful in that dress tonight, my love…” he smiled to himself, pride swelling in his chest that it was you he got to call his wife. “No doubt, you’ll turn some heads.”

You smirked; this was the start of laying down his rules… You knew it was coming. It sent thrills through you every time.

“Thank you, it’s from the Fall line. Taking it out on a test run, shall we say…” you smiled sweetly.

It really was a stunning dress; sleek and fitted pearlescent silk with a little fabric tapering in the waistline. The straps themselves were strings of pearls, thin over the shoulders and draping in loops down your chest, cleavage beautifully displayed with the low hanging stones and fabric. The pearl straps continued to drape over your back also, hanging lower than in the front in another loop. The fabric exposed your back to just where your back dipped in, the pearls hanging down over the top of your butt.

It was an extremely sleek and sexy gown, expertly tailored to hide potential flaws and accentuate perfections. And that’s why you picked it tonight.

“It’ll definitely be an advantage in your tactics tonight, I’m sure,” he smirked, his eyes finally darting up to meet yours. “I have mine too though, just so we’re clear.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you laughed quietly, shaking your head with a smile. “But the dress is not the only tactic I have up my sleeve, my love. You’ll see…”

His thumb stopped its rotations then, his grip tightening just a little more in response.

“Behave yourself tonight, _____,” he warned. “I mean it. Too far, and I’ll be forced to act.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll play fair, I promise,” you smiled, fluttering your perfectly permed eyelashes at him.

And with that, the game was on…

************************************************

You stood and laughed with the small group of investors that you had attracted into a corner of the ballroom. The dress and your charming reputation proceeded you and worked like a beautiful spider’s web, drawing in the most naïve of flies until they stuck – it was then that you could make your moves.

Three men were stood in front of you, all of them middle-aged, wealthy bachelors of sorts. Mr Song, CEO of a cosmetics company you were hoping you could persuade to come on board and partner with Kim Enterprises; Mr Kang, an investor who made his money buying and selling shares of companies throughout Korea, and Mr Garcia, a Korean-American entrepreneur looking to invest in more Korean companies to impress his elderly Korean mother, unhappy with his choices to continue his late father’s American legacy.

Frankly, it seemed like an easy sell. You knew you could get Mr Garcia to come around very easily; he was in a rush to invest, hoping to improve his foreign relations and his relationship with his dear mother.

Mr Song had shown an interest in selling part of his company to Kim Enterprises for years, but it had never felt like the right time to introduce a cosmetics line into your empire; Namjoon agreed. Focus on fashion, on the clothing and accessories retailers to begin with. When you had enough, cosmetics could be introduced. You’d kept Mr Song at arm’s length, dangling the carrot in front of the donkey for him to follow you; and he had, willingly.

But Mr Kang? He knew the market very well, he knew his investments, he was careful and very picky with what he chose to buy into. But when he did, he really invested; billions of won at a time, in fact. If you could just crack his outer shell, you were sure he would drop his guard a little, and you could sweet talk him around.

You had a few tactics of course that included, but were not limited to; laughing at their jokes with a coy giggle, fluttering your eyelashes a little, giving them side eye smiles, pushing your hip out and elongating your leg to show it off through the slit in your dress, touching their arms when you were talking directly to one of them, making little provocative jokes followed by a delicate wink and a sip of your champagne flute…

All these things combined? They worked incredibly well, as did the compliments you would slide in, directed at the men themselves or at their business endeavours. They seemed incredibly receptive to you, taken in by your beauty and your confidence as many men often were; including your husband, who had been eyeing you from the bar across the ballroom for a while.

He himself was focussed on his own investors; female, of course. But he wanted to watch you deal with yours first, he wanted to watch his competition – you – claim your prizes before he made any moves on the female investors he was hoping to win over. And of course, keeping to himself was always a viable option in these games you played at corporate events. It kept him mysterious and aloof, striking at opportune moments and asking these women for a dance, or if they would like to join him for a drink; if he kept to himself all night, then these women would feel particularly special. ‘Who, me? He wants me?’ they would think. All part of his plan.

But for some reason, tonight he was distracted. He couldn’t tell why, but his eyes were fixated on you even more so than usual. Perhaps it was the way Mr Garcia seemed to have taken an interest in you, standing a little closer than the others… he kept pushing his hair back too, trying to flip is off his forehead in that typical ‘movie heartthrob’ way, but honestly it was just laughable from where Namjoon was standing. Every time you touched his arm and laughed at his joke, he shuffled a little closer, and it was starting to bother Namjoon.

He wasn’t the one you should have to focus on… He was an easy catch, desperate to invest. So why were you paying so much attention to him? Namjoon didn’t understand… Unless you genuinely were enjoying flirting with the youngest of the three potential business partners. Oh, his blood boiled at the thought.

But what he didn’t know, was that you already had Mr Song hooked on your line. He was in, whether he’d verbalised it yet or not. Mr Kang, however, was a little more reserved, although he did enjoy your attention. You had quickly calculated though that he was someone who got what he wanted, and it infuriated him when he didn’t get it. He would do anything to get what he wanted… So, you paid extra attention to Mr Garcia, starving Mr Kang of your attention that he so clearly wanted.

Doing so made him work harder, would make him eventually think that it was his idea to invest in order to get your attention back on him. So far, it was working. He was trying to land more jokes, make you laugh at his one liners the way you laughed at Mr Garcia’s…

But Namjoon didn’t get your game, didn’t understand what you were doing. He saw you getting closer to Mr Garcia and it enraged him, immediately jumping to a wrong conclusion as men so often do.

Now, he wanted to strike. He was ready to start his game.

Leaning against the bar, he necked back the rest of the expensive scotch in his glass, slamming the glass to the bar and pushing off in search of a particular young lady he knew was a potential investor; So Soomin.

Soomin was an easy target; new money. She was a fashionista, a blogger mostly with a large Instagram following. Her profile skyrocketed when she began dating a famous idol, as did her net worth. And although that relationship came to a sticky end, it was the idol’s career that suffered, and not hers. Hers has only blossomed into modelling and investing. She was new on the scene, fresh and a perfect advertising opportunity, and investment opportunity also.

Namjoon had spotted her sat at a table on the edge of the dancefloor, in a stunning navy blue sequin gown. She was most certainly beautiful in reality also, just as her photos portrayed her. She was sat talking to an older woman, a woman Namjoon recognised from Kim Enterprises as a very loyal board member for the public relations department. She must be working her magic on Soomin too, seeing her as the perfect walking advertisement.

But Namjoon could work his magic too. He strode over to her, confidently stepping through those dancing on the dancefloor to make his entrance. As he stepped up to her table, her head turned to look at him immediately, and her face changed from relatively serious to a very sweet and flirtatious smile.

“Good evening, Ms So,” he bowed nice and low, respectfully greeting her. She dipped her head as he straightened back up. “Kim Namjoon, Kim Enterprises.”

“Ah, of course. Pleasure, Mr Kim,” she chirped, her eyes glittering under the dim lights of the room.

“I wondered if you would be interested in a dance?” Namjoon offered his hand, ignoring the look of ‘here we go again’ from his employee – of course everybody at Kim Enterprises was aware of the marriage between you two, and yet unaware of the games you played at events such as these that kept the fire of need burning hot within you both. They saw you as a pair who used their attractions to get what they wanted, but of course, they dare not speak up.

“That sounds lovely, if you’ll excuse me Mrs Cheong,” she bowed her head to the woman and took Namjoon’s hand, stepping ahead of him to pull him onto the dancefloor in a display of confidence.

It caught your eye; specifically, the sparkle of her dress caught your eye. Clearly, a woman who liked to make a statement. And behind her was… your husband? Smirking and quite clearly checking her out.

Now, it’s fair to note that in your entire relationship with Kim Namjoon, neither of you had ever been unfaithful, and neither of you had ever planned to. There were of course limits, and plenty of trust. This game that you played with each other was to keep that fire lit; and boy, was it raging right now.

Namjoon carefully took Soomin’s hand with one of his, placing his other on her waist, and began to sway to the smooth jazz being played by the hired band. He smiled down at the beautiful woman, and from what you could see, he was enjoying a flirty conversation with her.

She would giggle and hide her face behind her hair a few times, Namjoon tucking it back behind her ear. He would smirk and arch his eyebrows suggestively. But the moment that made you snap? He leaned down and whispered something into the woman’s ear, to which her eyes widened momentarily, and she was grinning and laughing again.

Your boiling point had been reached. The game had now stepped up.

“Hm, you know what?” You started, interrupting Mr Garcia’s little conversation with Mr Kang, bringing the attention of all three men back to you. You quickly necked the rest of your champagne and smiled up at Mr Garcia. “I want to dance.”

“If you don’t mind, Mr Garcia, I would like to take this one?” Mr Kang piped up, seemingly out of nowhere. You looked at him, a little shocked, but smiled and took his open hand that he had offered you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn,” you turned back to look at Mr Garcia, winking in his direction before allowing Mr Kang to direct you to the dancefloor. As the oldest of the three men you were working so easily this evening, he was most definitely the most chivalrous. He guided you like a gentleman, stepped aside to let you step onto the dancefloor first, gracefully placed his hand high enough on your waist to be respectful, the other in your hand and much like the other duos scattered around, you began to sway to the music. You remained in pleasant silence, dancing with the older man for a few minutes.

“You know, I’m aware of what you’re up to, Mrs Kim,” he smirked, averting his gaze to be interested in something in a far corner.

“Up to?” you asked, remaining calm and collected as if you had absolutely no idea what he was accusing you of.

“Yes, it’s quite clear to me. It’s quite amusing, honestly. I appreciate that you use your strengths to your advantage in business. You most definitely had me for a while, I was definitely very willing to invest for your attention. But you gave yourself away,” he looked back down at you, clear amusement on his slightly aged features.

“How so?” you asked, dropping the innocence and yet remaining charming.

“I saw your face falter when you spotted your husband over there, dancing with the pretty young woman in the blue dress. And now suddenly, you wish to dance? I ask myself, why on earth would you not simply walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder to take her place? Why would you ask Mr Garcia to dance?” Ah, busted… “This is some kind of game to you, isn’t it? Between you and your husband, I mean.”

You were lost for words; no one had caught on before, but the slip in your persona had been noticed. Damn.

“Tell you what,” he began to proposition, “if you can win this little battle with him tonight, make him jealous enough that he is the one to step to you, then I’ll invest heavily into Kim Enterprises. That’s a promise,” he grinned. And suddenly, the gleam in your eye was back.

“You want in on this, huh?” you laughed, stepping just a little closer to him.

“As long as I don’t get a fist in the face, I’m happy to help you win your game Mrs Kim,” he smirked, his hand slowly starting to sink a little lower, resting on your hip.

“We have a deal, Mr Kang. But just so you are completely aware, I am completely loyal to my husband. I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand at all; this is just good sport. Just flirting,” you outlined with a playfully warning tone.

“Absolutely. I’m not interested in separating a marriage. I won’t try to kiss you or woo you in any way. Just good sport,” he mirrored. And now, you had stepped up to Namjoon’s level, with another key player involved.

Across the dancefloor, Namjoon was happily chatting, happily flirting with Soomin. They were discussing business amongst general chit chat, flirting happily and dancing away, when Namjoon caught a familiar figure in the corner of his eye; you.

He turned strategically in his dancing with Soomin to get a better look and low and behold, there you were just a few metres away from him, on the dancefloor with Mr Kang and looking… rather cosy, shall we say.

He didn’t like how low his hand was on your waist, on those curves of yours that he adored so much. He didn’t like that your hand wasn’t on his shoulder or his arm, but snugly half tucked into the inside of his tuxedo jacket, lying flat on his chest. He didn’t like the mesmerised looked you seemed to have in your eyes as you gazed up at him. And he most certainly didn’t like the smirk of arrogance on his face either…

Namjoon was only partly listening to Soomin talking about the timeline of her modelling career, eyes intently focussed on watching you dance with Mr Kang seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was metres away with another woman in his arms. It was like you were lost in the arms of the silver fox of the business world, and it infuriated him.

He noticed the grip on your hip tightening a little as you giggled at whatever poorly constructed joke he must have been telling you. He watched as you lifted your hand from his chest and tapped the end of his nose playfully with a perfectly manicured finger.

It was the tiny little details that were starting to make his eyebrow twitch and his tongue press against the inside of his cheek.

He watched for what felt like hours but could only have been a maximum of twenty minutes, the music changing pace and flowing from one theme to the next three themes, but it was all background noise to him. Until Soomin’s narcissistic bubble finally popped, and she noticed the attention was no longer on her.

“Is everything alright, Mr Kim?” she asked, tapping his shoulder and watching his pupils adjust as he focussed back in on her.

“Hmm? Yes, fine. Apologies, you were saying?” he brushed it off as nothing, managing to convince her enough to start babbling on yet again about herself. But when Namjoon looked up to keep tabs on you, you were nowhere to be found on the dancefloor.

His head whipped around, panicked with anger bubbling in his chest. Where the hell had you gone? Where had he taken you?

A quick scan of the ballroom found you, sat at a lone table in the corner, Mr Kang closely sat beside you. He leaned forward and whispered something in your ear, and Namjoon watched as you swatted his shoulder with a playful giggle, your hand dropping to rest on his knee which had found its way between yours, the slit in your dress exposing your beautiful thigh.

No, this was too far. He had warned you before, and you had promised to play fair, but this wasn’t fair at all… If he had to watch that man touch your knee, your thigh… He couldn’t bear it. His jealousy, his ownership of the woman he loved had ignited his primal self, and he needed to come and claim you again, to show you and everyone else that you were his.

Without so much as a glance down at Soomin, Namjoon dropped his hands from her and began marching towards you sat at the table with Mr Kang.

“N-Namjoon?” she called after him, confused and annoyed that she had been cut off mid-sentence. But again, he paid no mind, intent and focussed on getting between you and the man with his hand on your bare fucking thigh.

At the table, Mr Kang was the first to spot Namjoon, quickly approaching with a face like thunder. His eyes widened momentarily, before settling back on you, a smirk on his features.

“Congratulations,” he mumbled to you smugly just as you heard the stomp of Namjoon’s loafers getting closer to your chair. Your head snapped up to look at him, and there he was – and oh, did he look pissed. You were half expecting steam to be shooting out of his nose and ears.

“Ah, Namjoon! I wondered where you had been all evening. This is Mr Kang. I’m sure you’re aware of his stellar reputation in investmen-“

“May I speak with you privately?” Namjoon interrupted, popping his tongue into the inside of cheek, eyes darkening.

“Is something the matter?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to one side. Namjoon’s eyes darted down to the hand still comfortably laid on you, although now it had shrunk back to just rest on your knee. Your eyes followed his, looking up at Mr Kang briefly – who was smiling sweetly as if nothing were the matter – and then back to Namjoon.

“There’s an opportunity that has come up, I need to discuss with you immediately. It’s quite time sensitive. Mr Kang, if you’ll excuse me, my wife and I need to have a private discussion,” he barked, like a guard dog defending its prey from another equally hungry canine. Then without hesitation, Namjoon took your hand in his with assertive dominance and guided you out of the large double doors to the ballroom.

As you were navigated through the tables you turned back to see Mr Kang smiling and waving at you, giving you a thumbs up. He knew you had won the game. He was going to invest. Perfect.

But now to deal with Namjoon.

Your husband was dragging you now, out of the view of the investors and business partners and alone together in the hotel corridor. You let him take you, thrills already building and anticipation heightening. At the end of the corridor you noticed a lattice shutter and an open silver chamber behind it; a service elevator. Was that where Namjoon was headed?

Apparently so. Without letting go of your arm he pulled the metal lattice gate open and practically threw you in, stepping in himself and slamming it shut behind him, pressing the button to the left hand side marked ‘8’ and there he stood, silent and motionless as the elevator kicked to life.

With his back to you and his hands clasped behind him, you were suddenly very aware of the anger in his demeanour, the dominance in his posture. He stood unmoving, not bothering to look back at you once, not saying a single word as you steadied yourself and hung onto the railing along the back wall. The silence seemed deafening, louder than the chatter and the music that you had experienced throughout the night.

The ride up to the eighth floor seemed agonisingly slow, every silent second dragging. You knew Namjoon had booked a room in the hotel for that evening so you wouldn’t need to go home after the event, so assumed that must be where he was taking you.

The elevator ground to a halt and Namjoon ripped open the lattice gate, letting it slam against the edge before turning and gripping your wrist again, pulling you and pushing you until you were both on the opposite side of the threshold and he could slam the gate shut once again. And then he began walking, leaving you stood in shock that he wasn’t dragging you this time, just expecting you to follow suit.

You folded your arms across your chest for a second and waited, wondering if he would turn and tell you to follow him, or come back to grab your arm but he did neither, simply stomping his way down the long hall with white walls and gold trimmings, luxurious red rug rolled out with gold detailing. Beside each room’s door was a small mahogany table with a white and gold marble vase, fake red arrangements inside. Fancy, but you’d expect nothing less from a hotel of this calibre.

You realised quickly Namjoon wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t wait for you, and with a huff of annoyance you unfolded your arms and followed behind him, the pearls on your dress rattling as they hit each other in the quiet of the corridor. Three doors from the end of the corridor, he stopped and turned to room 804, slipping a key card out of the inside of his jacket and into the slot as you approached him. He disappeared from view, entering the room and almost letting it shut behind him, if you hadn’t been quick enough to stop it with your healed foot.

“You know, Mr Kang is really a very nice man…” you began to speak as if nothing was wrong, entering the room and closing the door behind you, flipping the lock. But before you could continue, your shoulders were being pulled to spin you around, and pushed back against the door.

Namjoon loomed over you, his eyes dark and angry, arms either side of your head now, trapping you.

“Is he, now? Is that why you looked so cosy with him on the dancefloor, hm?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, his head tilting in mock query.

“Just as much as you and that man-eating model? Don’t try and take the high road, Namjoon,” you defended with a smirk. “We both know the game we play, for good sport…” You leaned in, lifting your lips to his ear in order to whisper to him…

“And I think I won…”

Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw locking and teeth grinding, a deep breath quickly exhaling through flared nostrils. He hated losing. He hated it so much. But admitting he had lost was even worse.

He said nothing, but instead you felt two strong hands on the tops of your arms, gripping them and pulling you from the door, dragging you further into the room before he could push you down onto the couch of the open hotel suite. You didn’t have time to admire the royal blue upholstery and French renaissance style before he was slotting his knee between yours and towering over you. You let your back sink into the back of the couch, sat upright with your thighs parted by his.

He ran his fingers through your hair, letting the fingertips gently glide down your jawline and eventually grip your chin with a hold that you couldn’t wriggle from.

“You went too far, ______. I warned you…” His voice was significantly darker than usual; deeper and more threatening than most would have heard from him.

“I was simply trying to get us an investment, Mr Kim. But I think your pathetic little display of dominance may just have ruined that,” you argued, although of course it wasn’t true. You only wanted to rile him up further, to aggravate him into giving you frankly what you can only describe as a good, hard fucking. It was working, too. You saw his eye twitch.

“You just don’t know when to stay quiet, do you?” he scoffed. You simply looked down at his lips and back up to him, as if you say “oh, yeah? Try me.” He didn’t like that.

So instead, he swooped his head down to plant a ferocious and bruising kiss to your lips, his hand coming to push the back of your head into him further. He wasted no time in parting your lips, messily exploring and taking ownership in the way he had wanted to all damn evening. His fingers curled into your hair, short nails lightly dragging at your scalp and adding to all the sensations you felt all over your body.

Namjoon was always so skilled with his kisses, having you succumb to him very quickly like a warlock casting a spell. You felt yourself move to his every whim, sinking further and further. It was when you moaned into his kiss that he knew he had you under his thumb.

He let go of you and moved to stand, seemingly in a rush to get some kind of payback or comeuppance for the way you had teased him tonight. He shook his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders and unfastened the zipper – and just the zipper – of his slacks, reaching in to pull his half-hard length through the opening in his underwear and the hole in his trousers, slowly tugging at it a few times to full arousal.

In this position, with him stood with one leg between your thighs and you sat directly in front of him, you were at the perfect height for what he wanted from you… He squeezed himself each time he came close to his tip, allowing for a small bead of pre-cum to gather. He pushed his hips out until all you could focus on was the sight of his delicious pre-cum.

“For you, Madam,” he smirked when your eyes met, his hand reaching out to run his finger under the length of the straps of your dress and gripping the strings of pearls that gathered in front of your breasts like reins, “seeing as you like pearls so much.”

And then he pressed the little pearl of precum to your lips, coating them like a gloss before pushing the tip of his cock past them and sitting it on the flat of your tongue.

“Let’s see you talk shit with a mouthful,” he smirked, fingers weaving into your hair once again and gripping tight, pulling at the roots to move your head and have you begin to bob on his length, encasing the impressive size in the warmth of your mouth and throat. You gladly took it; you could never deny your man since the first head you had ever given him. He’d practically declared his love to you for the entire twenty minutes whilst you showed him what a blow job was supposed to feel like.

You just had a thing for making your husband feel exceptionally good.

“Fuck, see? You can be a good girl,” he praised, grunting and beginning to piston his hips back and forth whilst still moving your head. “Just needed putting back in your place again.”

The chords of pearls on your dress rattled as they rocked with your body, hitting each other noisily with each forward and back motion. You relaxed your throat easily to take him, although with his girth and length combined it was always a snug fit. You could feel each ridge of the vein on the side of his shaft, the drag of his uncut foreskin on your tongue. It wasn’t common for a Korean man to remain uncircumcised, but it was never something that bothered you. In fact, it seemed to only encourage some more imaginative ways to please him.

But there was no time for intricate details, no space for you to move your tongue and focus on the spots that made him weak when he was moving at such a pace and filling your mouth and throat over and over again. You could do nothing but bob your head the way he was moving it and flutter your eyelashes innocently up at him with a sparkle behind them. It drove him crazy, to see you so pliant and taking him so well. He loved the way your lips wrapped around him, how you took the opportunity to try and hollow your cheeks to vary the pressure you put on him. All of it was so perfect…

“Fucking shit, ______,” Namjoon groaned, his head falling back and his eyes closing in bliss. You hummed against him, sending vibrations through his length and you were sure you could feel the vein pulse harder as his thighs tensed in his slacks. Knowing what you were doing to him, the pleasure you were giving him right now… well, it was turning you on considerably. If he were to peel back the rather beautiful ivory lingerie you had decided on, then he would be all too aware of the arousal this was causing.

“You wanted this, huh?” he asked, gritting his teeth and tightening his grip in your hair. “That’s why you’ve been acting up. My little cock slut was just desperate to get fucked huh, is that it?” His hips increased in speed and power. You were no longer moving, simply kept still by his hold as you tried to keep from gagging. You were good at this, at letting him use your throat like a fleshlight. You’d had plenty of practise after all.

All you could do was hum in affirmation, sending another wave of vibrations along his shaft. A rumbling groan erupted from his throat and he bit his lip, pulling his cock out of your throat completely. You gasped for breath, now able to take in more through your mouth for longer.

“You want my cock that badly, hm? In here?” he reached between your legs with his free hand, using the slit in your dress to his advantage and placing his palm flat over your damp panties. You whimpered a little at the contact, flinching but never daring to look away. Without having to think your head nodded on autopilot, desperate for him to give you what you wanted.

He smirked and stood back, lifting you by gently tugging at your hair to stand. He spun you around, easily finding the zipper on the low back of the dress and unzipping it, letting the straps of pearls fall down your arms and the dress come clattering to the floor with a loud rattle. A beat of silence passed in which you weren’t sure what he was doing, but you weren’t quite brave enough to turn your head to see, let alone ask him.

But had you seen him, you would have noticed the way his eyes were scanning every single beautiful curve of your body, every inch of smooth skin right down to his favourite part of you; that incredible round ass of yours. And in the lingerie you wore for him? Oh, it was beautiful. The ivory tones complimented your skin tone in the most marvellous way, and Namjoon couldn’t help himself from salivating at the sight.

He snapped himself out of his trance quickly though, manoeuvring you to kneel on the couch and bend over the fancy upholstery arm. Before you were really even comfortable, your panties were being tugged down and falling to your knees and a swift and harsh spank landing on your ass. Joon always loved watching that little jiggle…

Behind you, you heard fumbling, the rustling of Namjoon’s shirt being untucked from his pants, his tie being undone, and his buttons being popped open. But the fabric never hit the floor, and his pants remained unaltered.

Waiting was driving you crazy, so to taunt him even more you leaned down fully on the arm of the couch and wiggled your bare behind up in the air.

“Impatient little girl, hm? Don’t worry, you’ll be full in no time,” he growled, positioning himself with one knee up on the couch and pulling on your hips to line himself up with your dripping core.

He dragged the tip through your folds a few times before he pushed in, agonisingly slowly but at least you were finally getting some attention. When buried completely to the hilt, his hips pressed firmly against your ass and his grip on the flesh of your hips tightened, fingertips digging in as he adjusted to your warmth and the pleasure it brought him.

Even after four years of marriage – six since you had begun your office romance – he still revelled in the way you felt around him, still marvelled at how stunning you looked from every angle. He’d never tire of you, completely intoxicated and hooked; and this explained exactly why he was so possessive of you. No other man could have you; you were his.

Now that you finally felt full, your eyes fluttered closed and enjoyed the feeling. By now, you were used to his size and the way it filled you, but it didn’t mean it brought you any less pleasure than that first night you spent together. Your jaw dropped as he dragged himself back out of you, a high pitched moan spilling from your throat. His hands tightened on your hips, digging into the flesh as he used it as leverage to slam back into you harshly, jolting you forward and pushing a cry from your lips.

“Is that better, baby? This what you wanted?” he grunted, his hips now snapping against yours rhythmically. “You wanted my attention, hm? You got it, Babygirl…”

The force he used against you was intense, the slapping sounds deafening despite him never even removing his trousers – he knew you liked it when he was still at least partially dressed in his suits. It somehow upheld his aura of dominance, of power and leadership.

You couldn’t help but moan with each thrust, his length hitting every wall inside you, every sensitive nerve sending pulses of extreme pleasure through your pelvis and spanning out like lightning bolts through the rest of your body. You’d wanted this all night, been doing everything in your power to rile him up and get him to this point. This was the whole point of the game, and whilst he wouldn’t admit it just yet, you knew you had won.

“F-fuck… Namjoon…” you groaned, the upholstery on the couch brushing against your breasts. Hearing you groan his name ignited a fresh fire fuelled by lust in his gut, his hips changing their angle to hit you more directly against that spot inside you that sent you crazy. He pounded into you with an unforgiving speed, over and over and over again until he decided he was bored of that angle, that position. He wanted your full attention just as much as you wanted his.

So without warning, he pulled out of you and sat back against the opposite arm of the couch. You whined in disappointment, turning your head to see him watching you with his arm draped over the back of the couch, his other hand stroking himself slowly, and his lips pulled into an infuriating smirk.

“Come and get it, Babygirl,” he taunted, and rather than fight him on it you did as told, too worked up to deny yourself. You kicked your heels to the floor and pulled the panties draped around your knees off whilst Namjoon shuffled and laid down flat on the couch. The shirt he was wearing spilled open, exposing his well-toned chest and abs to you. You wasted no time, straddling his hips and positioning yourself to take him again, to let him stretch you out so perfectly like before.

Only this time, you were in control, and he didn’t seem to mind that – wanted it, even. Some of his favourite positions included ones in which you were the one moving, using his cock to make yourself feel good. He’d get lost in watching you, the way every part of your body moved, the way your eyes shut, and mouth fell open. And already, he was hypnotised by the way you rolled your hips against him, trying to move as fast as possible and as fluidly as possible to make sure he hit every nerve ending.

Your hands fell flat onto his pecks – those glorious, solid pecks – to keep yourself from collapsing forward, overwhelmed by pleasure. He reached up to your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands bouncing with every movement. He growled like an animal, sitting up and latching himself to one of your nipples, tongue flicking and teeth nipping at the sensitive nub. He continued to growl deep in his throat like a man possessed, his own length throbbing and pulsating inside you.

“J-Joonie… Mm, feels so good…” you practically sang, threading your hands through his hair and messing it up in an instant, holding him against you. You bucked your hips against him as fast as you could, clenching your walls on purpose to make him lose his mind. He did just that, letting go of your breast and falling back against the couch, his hands over his face and a long, wanton moan rumbling from his chest.

You kept clenching around him every time his cock would slide out of you, creating a drag that was absolutely mind blowing and has him sucking air through his teeth every time.

Suddenly his hands slapped down onto your thighs, fingertips digging in and his feet planting themselves flat on the couch behind you for leverage as he bucked his hips up into you. He furiously pounded into you from below, losing his composure. Your head dipped forward and all your weight went into your wrists, still holding you up by your hands flat on his pecks. He gripped your arms then, grunting with rapid breaths from exertion.

“Hey… Hey, ______,” he snapped his fingers in front of your face a few times to get your attention, “Eyes on me, Babygirl. Understand?”

“Uh… uh-huh,” was all you could muster with the force of every thrust and the roll of your hips in time with them. You could only hold eye contact for a moment or two until one particularly perfect thrust and then your head fell forward again. Namjoon didn’t like that, his hand coming to reach for your chin to hold your head up, forcing eye contact between you.

“Naughty girl… can’t follow basic commands,” he grunted, his fingers tightening on your chin and pushing on your cheeks. “I said, eyes… on… me,” he punctuated each word with a thrust, having you biting down on your lip and digging your nails into his pecks. You could only stare into his eyes as the both of you moved in sync. His were dark, so clouded with lust and hooded with passion that the heat in your abdomen started to swell impossibly.

Somehow, he kept up his pace. His thighs – however thick and muscled – must surely have been burning with his movements as yours were. His abs must have been screaming at him to slow down, but he didn’t, not even for a second. And now, he had slipped a hand down between your legs to circle your clit, adding yet another rush of heat.

You could feel yourself growing wetter, a sure sign of an impending orgasm. Namjoon clearly felt it too, judging by the way he looked down at the two of you connected and muttered out a ‘oh fuck…’ followed by a sharp intake of breath. He was starting to show tell-tale signs of his own climax approaching; he’d sucked his cheeks in in that way that made him look pissed off, but in fact was him simply tensing his jaw. His biceps were tensing under the sleeves of his open shirt and you could feel the pecks underneath your hands tensing also.

And my god, were you close too…

“G-gonna cum, please… please let me cum,” you begged between pouted lips forced together by his hand clutching your jaw. With or without his permission it was all about to unfold so quickly you couldn’t hold it off.

“Cum Babygirl, cum with me. Want you to feel the way I fill you up…” With his permission, letting go was easy. You squealed and whimpered as your nerves set alight, the heat spreading and igniting, filling your veins like hot lava. Your pussy clenched over and over, pulsing around his length and sending him further into his own ending, not quite there but so, so very close.

He let go of your chin, letting you break eye contact and fall forward onto his chest. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, still lifting his hips up to ride you through it and get himself off. He held you tight against him, whispering how good you felt in your ear, how perfect you were, how much he’d wanted you all night, that you were his and his alone.

Slowly, the heat dissipated, the fire cooling and leaving you light-headed and breathless, and Joon just kept on going, desperate for his own orgasm. You did your best to help him along, mustering all your energy to purposefully clench around him. Tilting your chin up, you were able to bury your face in the crook of his neck and nuzzle into the skin just under his shirt collar, kissing him just where his mole was. You nibbled and sucked and mouthed at the skin, feeling the tendons in his neck tensing.

And then he was groaning out loud, letting go completely. His hips stuttered and jerked unevenly, and you could feel pulse after pulse along his shaft. A new heat filled your pelvis; his seed spilling inside you, painting your walls white and creating a lude noise as he came to a halt.

His legs fell back down onto the couch whilst his arms loosened their grip on you, but still cradled you close to him; no way would he want to let you go right now.

“Fuck, babe… Fuck,” he sighed. It took a few moments for you to lift your head to see the blissed-out look on his face, eyes shut and sweat dripping from the ends of his messed up hair. You laid together like that for a while, catching your breath and enjoying the high you both felt.

“Hey Joonie…” you whispered, giggling when he opened one eye to look down at you. “Gotcha.”

He sat up a little then, resting back on his elbows as you sat upright, still straddling him. You had to clench a little extra hard to stop from leaking his own cum back onto his lap… You wouldn’t want to ruin such an expensive suit.

“What do you mean, gotcha?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“The game. I won,” you grinned, reaching out to fix his hair sticking up in strange directions.

“B-but… I got you to come with me, I must have made you jeal-“ You pressed your finger to his lips.

“Who felt so threatened by Mr Kang that he just had to intervene, thus, already losing at his own game?” you smirked. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Well be fair, he was getting very cosy, and you weren’t stopping him…” he complained.

“Sure, but um… Mr Kang was in on it.” You got off him then, standing up to head to the en-suite bathroom to freshen up, but he caught your wrist.

“He was what?” he asked, confused and irritated. You turned to face him again and leaned over him.

“In. On. It,” you sounded out slowly. “If I could get you to break, if I could win, he promised to invest heavily.” The smarminess was laced in your voice. You knew you had won. You got everything you wanted tonight; investment, and a decent, hard, jealousy fuelled fuck with your husband.

Namjoon’s jaw dropped, his grip falling from your wrist as he sat back against the couch with a heavy thump. He shook his head in disbelief, a smile forming as he watched you walk away and into the bathroom. But you popped your head out of the doorway, catching his attention again.

“Oh, and uh… as you were dragging me out, he gave me the thumbs up. Mr Kang will definitely be investing in Kim Enterprises,” you winked.

“Oh you, little…” he couldn’t hide his happiness at the investment, a grin spreading across his face. He didn’t mind that he’d been beat, not when such a huge business transaction was about to unfold. He didn’t even mind that he’d been played; not by you at least. Not by his incredibly gorgeous, sexy and genius wife.

“You…” he stood up, jogging towards you and shedding his shirt to the floor, “are impossible,” he laughed, chasing you into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Your night was only just beginning.

You had definitely won this game.

#BTS #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan au #ratedbangtann #namjoon #kim namjoon #rm smut #RM #rap monster #rapmonster #SMUT AU #Smut #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

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just-horrible-things · 3 years

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Story: Mina and Marten [First | Prev | Next]

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Phone Call

"Mum!" Mina exclaims, making her voice just sunny with cheer. "Fancy hearing from you! What a nice surprise." "Yasmine, we need to talk." Well duh, thinks Mina, it's not like you'd call me just to catch up. "What would you like to talk about, Mummy dearest? I could tell you how my day is going, or you could ask about my love life, or--" "You know what," Mum interrupts. Mina sighs dramatically. "I'm sorry," she says, "I can only read minds over video call." "The boy." "You mean Marten? He has a name, Mum, although I suppose that would be a lot to ask since you can't even remember mine. I thought you didn't watch my 'brainless non-content'?" "Your Aunt Kate told me what 's going on."

"Oh, of course!" Mina giggles, high-pitched, aware of how the phone line will mangle the sound. "Auntie Katie hasn't talked to me in donkey's years so I'm sure she understands all the details of my life." "I've watched the videos. You have a human being, wearing a collar, living in your apartment and sleeping in a dog bed for Christ's sake."

Marten likes his bed, he said so. He said it's comfy. It's what the promotional videos show, it's what you're meant to do for a Boxie. Some YouTubers keep theirs in cages. What's she meant to do, have him sleep in her bed?

What she says is, "Everyone's doing it, Mum. Didn't you want me to make money? This is where the money is. Viewers just love Boxies!" "Stop using that tone with me, Yasmine. Just talk like a normal person." "That tone, Mummy? This is just what my voice is like! Maybe there's something wrong with the phone line, hold on a second." She blows into the microphone sharply.

Mum sighs dramatically. "Oh forget it. Don't you understand what you're doing?" "Boxies are perfectly legal, Mum. He signed a contract, I've seen it with my own eyes." "It's a thin veil over slavery! The corporations won't get away with it for long. The courts will come down hard on it, and then where will you be? Think about your reputation! You'll never get a real job if--" "I have a real job, Mum." "Legal or not, it's completely unethical. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter!" Another too loud giggle. "Oh I'm sorry Mummy, whatever will I do without your support? How about continue how I have been for the last ten years! Goodness, I don't know if I'll cope."

"He's a human being, Yasmine!" "I know that!" Mina snaps. "I never asked for this! Did you actually watch anything or did you look at a thumbnail and decide that you know everything? I didn't want some... stranger, living in my room! I didn't want a human pet! Someone else sent him to me!"

There is a silence. Mina sniffles, and fakes a little sob. Mum hates it when she cries.

"Well," Mum says at last, sounding affronted. "Can't you send him back?" "What a great idea," Mina sighs. "I sure wish I'd thought of that." "You could you just... set him loose. Doesn't he deserve to be free?" Mina is absolutely sure that Mum has not watched any of the footage. Probably she just looked at the video titles. She tries to imagine Marten on his own. Where would he sleep? What would he eat? He had a panic attack when he tried to ride the elevator down two floors to the laundry room for goodness' sake.

"Boxies have to be supervised, Mum. He'd be breaking his contract, he'd get into trouble! Do you need me to Google the rules for you? I could copy it out in nice small words if you'd like that." "Well you can't keep him. He's a human being!" "Mummy dearest," Mina's voice is cracking with emotion and she leans into it, overacting. "I am an independent adult, and I make my own choices. You ran out of excuses to control my life years ago! If you wanted a say, maybe you should have been nicer to me while I still cared!" "Oh Yasmine, do stop going on. It has nothing to do with our relationship. This is much more important." "I'm not even important to you?" "This is a person's life." "I know that, Mummy dearest! What do you even want me to do?" Mum hesitates. Mina pounces on the opening. "I know, I'll just send him back to the factory he came from, I'm sure the corporations will take much better care of him than I can, won't that be just fantastic?" "Why can't you ever discuss anything like an adult?" "I can! I just choose not to when it's you!"

She hears her mother start on another barb as she takes the phone from her ear. Her nagging voice cuts off as Mina ends the call.

Sniffling, she pulls a kleenex from the box and dabs delicately at her tears. It comes away black with makeup, and she wonders how badly she is smudged. Oh well. It's not like Marten cares.

Marten.

"Oh sugar."

Marten sits in his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. Tears stream down his cheeks and over hands he has clamped over his mouth. He is shaking with silent sobs, staring horrified at Mina as if she might be about to murder him.

"Oh no, Marten!" Mina is mortified. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm not mad at you, no one's mad at you. Marten, sweetheart, I was just on the phone to my mum, don't be upset!" She crouches beside him, worried, but he doesn't move. "Honey, you're not in trouble, what's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you, sweetie, talk to me?" “Don’t send me back!” he gasps, voice half-smothered with terror. “Please, please don’t -- don’t send me back!” "Okay! Okay, I won't! Don't panic, sweetheart!"

Without his hands holding them back, the sobs tumble out of Marten uncontrolled. Great ugly, breathy gasps of panic and despair. “I’m not sending you back,” Mina assures him frantically. Should she hug him? Give him space? "Oh honey, I was just saying that to my mum to make her go away, I would never! Don't be scared. You're so well-behaved, and so good for the cameras, and the viewers love you, why would I send you back?" ”I... I’m good?” “You’re very, very good. Poor sweetheart, how can I help you, I didn’t mean to upset you!” “Could, um, could you h-hold me?” Marten snivels pitifully. “Of course sweetie, of course I can. Come here.”

Marten practically throws himself into Mina's arms, knocking her back on her butt. She shuffles backwards to the closest beanbag, pulling him along with her, and gathers him into her lap. He clings to her clothes and sobs into her shoulder while she puts her arms around him and awkwardly pats his back.

"Shh, shh," she soothes, “There there, poor darling. It’s okay. It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared.” “Please don’t send me back,” he begs again, “I’ll be better, I’ll be anything you want, don’t send me ba-ack…” “It’s okay honey, it’s okay. I’m not sending you back. If you don’t want to go back, you don’t have to.” “Do… do you promise?” “I promise. If you don't want to, you don’t ever have to go back.” “Thank you,” Marten sobs, “Thank you, Mina.”

But he doesn’t stop crying.

“There you go,” Mina assures him, rocking him gently. “Poor thing. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry, just let it all out. I’m so sorry I scared you.” She thought he was crying hard before, but when she gives him permission he wails like a lost child.

And he doesn’t stop.

She holds him. She pets his hair and apologises. She rocks him and murmurs comfort words and he cries on and on and on, clinging tightly and bawling his eyes out.

Eventually, worried and a little exasperated, she pulls her head back far enough to see his face and asks “Honey, why are you crying?” He sniffles, and tries to stop sobbing long enough to answer. “I just want to be good,” he blubbers miserably. “I only want to be good for you, that’s what I’m for, I don’t know what to do.” “You are good, sweetie. You’ve never done anything bad at all.” He hides his face in her top and cries harder. “But,” he whimpers, “but you don’t want me…” “Oh, honey, no.” Mina feels awful. “Honey no, I didn't mean that, I was only talking to my mum...”

“I just want to be good.” The words seem to be spilling out of Marten now. “And good Boxies are, are wanted, they get bought and they go to nice homes with nice owners and, and they have happy lives fulfilling their owner’s desires and, and I thought I was good, I only want to make you happy, Mina, but I, I thought you wanted me and, and you don’t…” “Of course I want you, Marten, of course I do. I didn’t mean it like that, I, erm…”

“But you didn't even choose me,” Marten says softly. “You didn’t want a - a pet...” “I didn’t know that I wanted you,” Mina tells him. “That’s what I should have said. I didn’t know I wanted you. But Marten, you were a great surprise. It’s me who should be sorry. I’m not a very good owner. I don’t know how to keep you happy, and I don’t have a nice house or anything…” “You’re the best owner,” Marten blurts out with surprising vehemence. He starts crying again. “You’re so good to me and, and you’re kind, and pretty, and I love you, Mina. I just want to make you happy.” “You do make me happy, sweetie. You do.”

Mina has to hold him a good while longer, but he does start to calm down slowly. She stares solemnly at her posters on the wall, not really seeing them, as she murmurs reassurances on autopilot. Are these the right things to say? This is... such a huge responsibility. She wasn't ready for a cat, let alone a whole entire human being. He needs so much affection, all the time.

Mina is not cut out for this.

Eventually he stops crying. Mina waits another ten minutes before she tries to talk to him.

“Would it really be so very bad," she asks carefully, "going back to the company?” Marten stiffens instantly, hands tightening in her clothes. “Don’t worry!” she hurries to tell him, “I’m not gonna send you back! Not unless you want to go. I'm just asking, because I want to understand... why you’re so scared?” Marten is quiet. "You don't have to talk about it," Mina backtracks. "That's okay, I was just curious, don't worry about it. “If the owner sends a product back," Marten's voice is wobbly, "it needs to be refurbished. I… I don’t want to be refurbished…” “But you could have a better owner. A rich one, who can give you the luxury and stuff you signed up for. A big, tidy house. An owner who knows what they're doing...” “I don’t want anyone else,” he sniffles. “I want you.”

He’s starting to cry again. Mina sighs. “That’s okay then. You’ll stay here, and no one’s gonna send you back. Nothing to worry about. It’ll just be you and me.” She brushes the hair carefully away from his damp and sticky face. “And hey. If you keep bringing in the views, maybe some day we’ll have a nice house too.”

“I’m sorry I’m not better,” Marten tells her sadly. “I wish I was a smart Boxie so I could help you out and stuff…” “Oh sweetie. Shall I tell you a secret?” Mina smiles sadly. “I’m not very smart either. But it’s okay! You don’t have to be smart to do well on YouTube. You just have to look pretty. And we’re both pretty good at that!”

[Next]

#my writing #my ocs #mina and marten #mina #marten #box boys #slavery tw #modern slavery tw #human trafficking tw #youtuber whump #pet whump #reluctant caretaker #dehumanisation tw #animalisation tw #(mild)#collar tw

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theorist-influencer-untitled · 10 months

Text

7.16.23 Sunday

2:42 am

Still, having windblow trap... I feel bitter and not happy...

In the Nutshell:

I hate people who can't understand if someone is saying I'm not happy in a calm way... Huh?? We are raised or had a different upbringing... It is really stressful when you meet people who can't understand words in a calm way... This is a case by case... The best example is when I say "I'm not happy being flatten this way but I'm happy coz John is here with me" ... But "I'm not happy".... My self-esteem is very,very low as an individual I should put a remedy on this.... Self-pitying coz I can't prove myself... Frustrated coz I can't find the right one for me... I'm not happy and I'm having complex.

3:47 am

So, weird... While sleeping I heard a voice shouting and saying "Pie Chan help me save me from Ashitareh" Mitchan???.Where is Dra. Mitch? I hope she is ohkay... I just slept for 1 hour and I had a dream about a man and as well shouting Kevin Manalo....This is weird....

Kevin became Orlando James, my warlock but in my dream they became 1 person....Weird dream that we went to mall and he drove an electric car but I left my honda car in the parking lot...Just really weird....We went somewhere and I told him I need to get my car in the parking lot but in my dream we lost our way and went to his electric car, then we were searching for the car I left in the parking lot...

While riding his electric car, we ( he coz I'm on the passenger's seat ) drove it going up to an escalator stairs....So,weird in my dream that his electric car is fitted on the escalator stairs. Then , we reached the parking lot and searched for my car and he embraced me....Weird!

7:43 am

I have pelvic/ priformis/ sciatica pain... I still have the windblow trap... Nobody can assist me to do my massage therapy here...

I need money and job angels... I had a weird dream last night before actually fell on my deep sleep cycle...

Now, I'm actually thinking of Mitchan if she is really ohkay ( Mitchan became a cartoon again and a real trouble maker, that Dra. MITCH ).

And the man that Kevin became as 1 as Orlando, it is so strange and weird... But it is a dream... Dreams are a mixed up thing in human's head or a real symbolism or I don't know if it is real like Mitchan is calling my name and she wants me to save her from Ashitareh... But it was a DREAM!

Uncle Jun went out already 5 minutes ago as usual going to the Georgia'Z + Betsilog'Z forest ( as always they are wearing plastics coat??) I wonder why... I wonder, why they are not guilty? ( This is real not a dream...). Only them can go up... It is bullshit!!!

One week and one day, no food alms from Uncle DD but he is with Aunt Karen,in the province... No extra fundings for my coffee, my basics toiletries it is so frustrating and disappointing. Uncle DD and Aunt Teresa are a big lies angels... Always do a "synchronize snapping"....

I need money and job angels... I wanna buy starbucks everyday and I wanna see donkey and camel it is still here in my head...

I wanna leave the hometown, I'm self-pitying...

8:47 am

I need a df (dog food) for my dogs here.... I feel self-pity though I'm making them porridge but I need to add some veggies and I don't have budget these days..

The people behind the movement are children, angels since 2007? Such as Uncle DD wanted to prove their maturity... Taking away my college diploma...

But I got sick and amnesia from the previous years and depression ( I did take depression meds ) until I reached my full maturity but I'm always thinking of returning to my original entity ( should be and must be ) and I always think of getting a job though I had different dreams.... I always think of money and job meaning though I had depression or amnesia from the previous years,the other side of my brain nerves it is always thinking of money after that 2007... 2007 the beginning of the windblow trap and my wind spin or my knock knock knock the return of oz???

11:41 am

Waiting for the food assistance of Uncle Jun and he was reacting awhile ago that the money sent by his son (Czarco his biological son ) is almost gone coz he used it here... He said I can't buy my own stuff...

12:23 noon

Thanks Uncle Jun coz I know in a way it is from his heart these food assistance for awhile...

But I still need more, angels...

1:45 pm

Thanks as well Ely for the onion, garlic & ginger....

I asked these from a friend today coz we are on an emergency situation... I have to feed my dogs or our dear dogs here... It is a symbolism of my sanity... Not only a symbolism of my sanity but they are my dear dogs... God made me a higher intellectual being than my dear dogs... I'm hurting if I can't buy a df for my dear dogs coz I'm a human being, I'm a college graduate and I l know I can but I have weird windblow trap and some bad gremlinz who are controlling my life situation, they are pressing me down.

Whew! I still need help and hoping and praying to make Mr Lopez appear to be my ally, again I have a windblow trap...

I need help and ally...

For the 3 main exes Rocky the doctor, JP the businessman, and 3rd Ryan the seaman... I just need to talk to you coz of the windblow trap... It is so unfair in my part that for 16 years I can't flip my wings and I know my 3 main exes were golds...

I also need facial wash and lotions... Argh! I miss my original entity... I feel self-pity...

In the Nutshell:

I don't like a man who will just pull me down and never allow me to flip my wings coz his intention is bad and full of jealousy on me...

2:25 pm

I love to own it! Another beautiful layout...

youtube

This is as well a good layout...

youtube

3:28 pm

I have a windblow trap... Why am I doing this? Coz I have a windblow trap... Things that I don't understand but as a genuine child of God we never wanted to kill but we love to save lives of our good friends or people behind or whoever having a windblow or perhaps owning a weird mystery...

Aside from I wanna own it and thinking of a way out, but I don't know... It is one way of doing religion the "van touring" ... It is somehow difficult to explain but it is religion as well for a particular time...

I still have windblow trap and I feel bitter...

3:36 pm

I still wanna get a job and I need money... I wanna buy starbucks everyday...

I feel self-pity.... I wanna cry...

3:44 pm

Another unique layout...

youtube

Another good layout...

youtube

4:41 pm

We need to do "van touring" if we have to angels ... or else...

youtube

This is just for advertisement here... Not really a ride but a starter house...

youtube

6:04 pm

Good layout...

7:42 pm

In the Nutshell: How to be a friend? Or How to assist genuinely a friend...

If you are religious enough... You are aware of the mystery of the world even the mystery of the bible...

Being religious is not being judgemental on things that is negatively happening to your friend's life for example like my present situation...

Some people are judging me that why am I not working? On my previous post here, I already posted about the word and issue about me as "ningas kugon" coz I'm not...

Review--Ningas Kugon-- it is negative meaning not preparing in time, easy2x or lazy....Which I'm not....

In short,I'm out of fundings these days... If I ask a lil favour on some friends, I hope they will fully understand and willing to help me or assist me...

I'm using help or assist me, not borrow coz I can't say when can I return the assistance or favour that I asked from someone or from a friend... Coz I'm gonna repeat I had have windblow trap or there is some organization in the society who planned to smash my entire being...

I wanna say calmly " I'm not happy and I'm not satisfied, flatly ohkay..." " I'm not happy being flatten unfairly this way..."

I asked Eric, Karen and Villeny to assist me on my facial wash, I received no reply... They are my high school friends. Even on sachet, they are not replying... I feel super hurt angels! I need to beautify myself, in spite of everything... Even Alexander Gonzales my friend in USA, I asked him to assist me a dollars, he said do a youtube. I was shocked on his reaction on me and his replied on me....You asked a friend to assist you that you are facing a struggle on money and struggle on life situation then a friend will tell you to do a youtube, insulting!

Imagine 0.44$ or 24 Philippine pesos my Filipino friends can't assist or help me... But Ely gave me onion,garlic and ginger today...

I'm not happy being like this... I'm no longer happy angels...

This sachet is 0.44$ or 24 pesos per sachet it is facial wash it is good for 1 week...

These are my high school friends... That is Karen Jarata wearing blue shirt, Billeny/ Villeny Blasco wearing black, Eric Judar our only guy that time ,Leomen Rizalde requested a bonding or a sudden reunion all the way from states or Canada... That time I saw some colored men there in a mixed bar somewhere nearby here going to Salawag... It was March 7, 2020 at the "Food Barn".

youtube

9:41 pm

I still have windblow trap... I feel frustrated... I feel self-pity...

I can't gain new friends who can assist me or pull me up, most specially mature men... or How can I get a new bf...

I don't know if these journal can reach my 3 main exes and Mr Lopez to be ally... I have a weird situation here... My self-esteem is very,very low angels... I lost confidence and I lost my perfection and I lost a job for a long time and I lost my original entity...

#Youtube

0 notes

imemeyoumemeweallmeme · 3 years

Text

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

#long post #ask meme #quotes #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier #jafar #aladdin #the princess #jasmine #sheherazade #sultan #roleplay #roleplay asks #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #starters #roleplay starters

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the-young-and-forgotten · 3 years

Text

A Glimpse Through The Years - First Year

| Masterlist |

1st of September 1991 - 1st Year:

You fall through the magic barrier, your heavy trunk thunking onto the floor. You lay beside it, physically exhausted from dragging it 200 metres. “I’m only eleven, god knows why they have to make it so goddamn heavy.” You grumble under your breath.

A figure pops into your view, extending a hand to help you up. “It’s called Slave Labour love, my parents use it all the time.” You slowly realise who it is and laugh. The sun behind him lights up his platinum blond hair, making you squint to see. “Put your hair away Malfoy, before you permanently blind me.”

He scowls at you but helps you up off the ground. “It only took me an hour to get it like this!”

As you walk by with your trunk, you lift a hand and mess up his hair as best you could. “An hour wasted, i’d say.”

He shakes his head before running after you, a stupid grin on his face.

On the train, You scope it out for the best compartment you can find. After a few minutes, you pick one. Inside, there are two brutish boys already sitting in there. They give you the side-eye as you and Draco shuffle around on the seat opposite them.

Once settled, Draco is quick to introduce himself. “My names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” He uses that ponce, arrogant voice that always makes you roll your eyes. You mutter your name when they inquire and give theirs in return. Not that you cared. You are not hanging around with two idiots who activate Dracos arrogant demeanour.

All of a sudden, Dracos droning voice falls silent. You follow his gaze towards a boy with unruly hair walking by with a couple of red-heads.

Draco's eyes narrow and he speaks with such contempt that even you are shocked.

“Potter.” He spits out the word, like it was something disgusting.

“Potter who? Isn’t that the guy who you saw in Madam Malkin’s?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly he stands and gestures to the boys sitting across from you. “Let’s go introduce ourselves to them eh? Y/n you coming?”

You sigh. “I’m fine here thanks. I’d rather be reading my book.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

After a little bit, he comes back, extremely agitated. He plops down beside you, facing the window. His arms are crossed and his legs are drawn in.

“I guess it went horribly?” He nods.

You sigh. “Maybe if you hid your hideous face, you guys would be friends.” You think you detect a flicker of a smile before you turn back to your book.

You stumble off the train, your whole body aching from sitting for so long. Draco actually falls but picks himself up quickly, looking around to check if anyone had seen.

You make your way towards the boats, trying to grab one with Draco. But the crowd pulls you two apart and you get stuck with two jabbering bimbos.

You learn that these two bimbos are called Blaise and Theo and they aren't actually jabbering bimbos. The two boys make you laugh numerous times, especially when Theo falls into the lake (you may or may not have pushed him).

When you step off the boat you are all acting a bit crazy. You say goodbye to Blaise and Theo as you look for Draco. You finally find him, picking a fight with the Potter boy. You go to break it up, but you’re beaten to it by Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall pulls them apart then proceeds to announce all the rules (which you zone out of) and before you know it, the rest of the first years are surging forward. You pull Draco back, meaning to talk. Crabbe and Goyle fall back too, loyally sticking to his side. “Can you tell those two to buzz off?” You mutter to Draco. He rolled his eyes but complied.

“Whatcha want?” He asks. “You can’t start fights with Potter!” You say “I just asked him to be my friend!” “Oh yeah sure. That’s why you literally said that he shouldn’t hang out with that Weasley boy.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, maybe that was a bit mean.”

This time, you roll your eyes. “Let’s just get to the Sorting Ceremony.”

Both you and Draco get sorted into Slytherin. You grin at each other and sit down at your house table. Dumbledore gets up to give his speech you internally groan, your parents always complained about these. Halfway through the speech, Draco turns back to you and makes his hand do the talking movement as he mouths ‘blah blah blah’ over and over again. You snort into your hand, shaking with suppressed laughter.

When Dumbledore finally shuts up, you dig into your food. The food was delicious, tasting 10 times better than it ever did in the muggle world. You can’t help but stuff your face. Draco notices this and mocks you. It’s his own fault that chick mysteriously ended up in his hair.

When the feast is finally over, your Prefect brings you down to the dungeons. Along the way, you marvel at the whole interior of the castle. Draco nudges you and shows you the painting of a knight struggling to get on his donkey. You grin at each other and make fun of each and every portrait you come across.

Down in the Slytherin dorms, the Prefect keeps droning on about house pride. “He sounds a little like you when you’re being arrogant.” you whisper to Draco. He turns to you, his expression practically screaming hurt and mock rage. “I do NOT sound like that!!!” His face morphs into a slightly nervous one “Do I?” You just shake your head and head up to your dorm, eager for sleep.

You are woken up by the chattering of your roommates. You slam a spare pillow over your head, groaning about how early it was.

“Get up L/n.” said one of the girls. “Malfoy wants to see you.”

You roll your eyes at Dracos dramatics but hurry to get dressed and meet him.

When you get into the Common Room, Dracos is there waiting impatiently. “Finally!” He groans “It only took you forever!” You roll your eyes and muss up his slicked-back hair. “The hair Draco! That's it! That’s why Potter won’t be friends with you!”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously? The hair now?” You nod solemnly, before breaking into laughter. “You are never gonna let this go are you?” you shake your head, still giggling.

“Ugh let’s just get to class.” He sighs. That immediately dampens your mood. You physically deflate, complaining. “We just had such a long ride yesterday and now school? Uggghhh.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the Great Hall. “Complain when the day is actually done.”

The first half of the year passed in a blur. Crabbe and Goyle were really starting to annoy you. Acting like Dracos bodyguards. Not that he hated it, quite the opposite really. They stuck around so much that it was near impossible to spend time with Draco.

It was one of those few times you managed to steal him away for a few hours. You were silently fuming. You had been his best friend for years and now just to talk to him was like booking a doctors appointment!

Draco picks up on your mood but doesn’t say anything. A few minutes pass and he can’t help himself. “Are you okay Y/n?” “Peachy.” you answer in the most monotone voice you can muster.

“You don’t sound peachy.” “Only took you 2 hours to finally figure that out.” “Well, I’m sorry for inquiring on how you are!” He stops in his tracks and turns to face you, speaking softly now. “What’s wrong?”

You stop too, extremely mad. “Have you ever thought that maybe I am feeling a bit left out whenever you go off with those trolls you call friends?” “they’re not trolls!” you cross your arms, your stance spitting sass. “Their grades beg to differ.”

He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “SERIOUSLY! What is wrong?” “I practically just told you! Now, work the rest out for yourself!” you push past him, storming down the corridor. A couple seconds later, you sneak a look behind you. Draco is clenching at his hair and staring up at the ceiling like it would give him the answer.

You turn back around shaking your head. ‘Maybe if I- no, don’t think about it.’ you force yourself to keep walking no matter how much you wanted to go back.

The christmas break was quite boring. Draco went home whilst you and Theo were stuck at Hogwarts. You might’ve fought with Draco before he left, but you did miss him. A lot. More than you wanted to admit.

It was only a few days after everyone left and you were already bored out of your mind. You and Theo were sitting next to each other in awkward silence. The months you had spent not talking and hanging around in different friendship groups had made things extremely awkward between the two of you.

“So, why are you stuck at Hogwarts.” he asks, trying to start a conversation. “My parents kept me here because they want me to refine my chess skills.” you wink at him and he grins. “Well I miss L/n, happen to be a master chess player so you’ve come to the right place.” the two of you scooch over to the chessboard and play game after game, after game after game.

By the end of the holidays, you were quite sick of Chess. You sat there, dying of boredom, playing yet another game. “Theo, when this game is over I will NEVER look at chess right again!” He laughs and looks at something behind you. “Well, I think I found something that’ll cheer you up.” Extremely curious, you turn around. “DRACO!” you scream running to give him a hug (you had apparently completely forgotten about your fight). “Please save me, Theo’s chess games are extremely boring!” “HEY!” Theo shouts indignantly as you and Draco start laughing.

It had been a few weeks after Draco had come back. He was hanging out with you considerably more, just not as often as he used to. But you’d settle for this. You two were enjoying each other’s company and laughing like the old times.

Suddenly, he pulls you behind a corner and peeks out. You peek too and notice Harry, Ron and Hermione walking towards Hagrid's Hut. You roll your eyes. Not this. “Draco they’re just-” “Ssshhh! Somethings… up.” he narrows his eyes suspiciously.

You knew right before he did what he was just about to do. You put a hand on his shoulder to stop him “Draco, please!” He shoves your hand off his shoulder “Wait here, I’ll be back soon.”

But you don’t wait. As soon as he walks away, so do you. Back to the dorms. You’re not waiting around for him to get in trouble for snooping.

Hours pass and you grow extremely worried. Where is he? What happened? Is he okay? Blaise and Theo try to help to take your worries off your mind, but nothing works. “Something bad has happened to him guys, he’s never gone this long!” “Y/n, it’s okay! He’s probably caught in some stupid situation with Potter he can’t get out of!” Theo tries to reassure you. It just stresses you out even more. “Like that’s gonna help” Blaise mumbles. “Oh yea! Well you try then!”

Blaise and Theo glare at each other before Blaise looks at you. “Read a book on the couch and wait for him to come back, it won’t be long, I promise.”

The two of them head up to their dorm, leaving you alone to wait for Draco.

He finally comes back in. Bursting through the door, soaked and looking extremely traumatised. You sit up quickly. “Draco! Where were you? What happened?”

He plops down beside you on the couch. He sighs reluctantly “I should’ve listened to you. All I got was trouble. I’m so sorry Y/n, I wasn’t thinking.” You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you the whole story but he just leans into you. “Never ever go into that forest okay? It’s…” he shivers, eyes clouding “Disgustingly terrifying.”

You give him a big hug “And this is why we are NEVER getting into trouble again are we?” He chuckles “It’s not a promise but I’ll try.”

It’s finally nearing the end of the year. The rivalry between Draco and Harry has calmed down a bit since the adventure Harry and his friends took just a few days ago. All assignments were handed in, all spells learnt, all potions completed.

I mean sure, you still had quite a few run-ins with Potter and his friends but at least they weren’t whipping out their wands and practically shooting ‘avada kedavra’ at each other.

By the time the End of Year Feast rolled around, you were growing more and more reluctant to go. Hogwarts had become your second home. But you had your family waiting for you and you missed them more than ever.

At the Feast, Draco sits beside you absolutely glowing with excitement. “Slytherins totally gonna win this year! I mean, look how many points we have!” He raises his voice slightly and stands so everyone can hear. “Suck on that Potter!” You roll your eyes and pull him back into his seat, amused by his antics. “Seems like you’re still the petty, competitive boy I made friends with seven years ago.”

He scoffs a little. “Like that's ever gonna change.” ‘I hope not’ you think, looking back at the staff table.

Dumbledore stands up, making his way to the podium. “Here we go..” you hear Draco whisper. Your mouth twitches into a little smirk.

As usual, his speech was boring as hell. Slytherin banners turn into big red lions as Draco groans and slams his head onto the table. It was exactly like you had expected.

The whole Slytherin table is in a bad mood throughout the Feast. You never knew people could care so much about points. To you, it was just a dumb way to get kids to do their homework.

You and Draco walk back to the dungeons together. “I still can’t believe Gryffindor won..” He groans for about the millionth time that evening. “it was quite obvious.” You say. He perks up. “How?” “THINK Draco! The idiots went into a highly dangerous area, survived and saved the Wizarding World from evil. Again.” You think about it for a second, stopping in your tracks. “Granted, they probably should’ve been expelled but thats beside the point.”

You continue down into the dungeons, Draco running behind you, trying to catch up. “Maybe we can get the student body to sign a petition and get them expelled!” “Dray, thats stupid.” “Oh yeah, I forgot. Everybody likes Potter.” he spits out the name, like it was a nasty curse.

“Well, everybody except us.”

You consider this and decide to push his buttons a little. “Well, I don’t know. I think I’m really starting to fancy Potter.” He stares at you in disgust “You have just been officially unfriended. Get lost.”

Your laughter echoes down the corridor, several portraits reprimanding you.

You wake up once again to the obnoxious yelling of your roommates. Luckily you had packed your trunk last night, so you take it out and run downstairs.

Draco was waiting for you, ready to go home.

You arrive at Hogsmeade Station. You hurry onto the train, snagging the same compartment you had used at the start of this year. Draco settles down beside you. “So, going home huh.”

“Yeah!” you exclaim. “I’m so excited to see my parents again! I really miss them.”

“At least one of us does.” you give him a quick hug. “They’ll be proud of you Dray, who wouldn’t?” He smiles weakly and quickly changes the subject.

At last, the train pulls into Kings Cross Station. You unwillingly step off the train, knowing full well that you weren’t gonna see Hogwarts and Draco for at least 3 months.

You turn to face each other and smile. You pull him into a big hug, squeezing him extra tight.

“See you next year?”

“Yeah”

“And please Draco, take care of your hair! Maybe your face too”

He laughs before heading towards his parents. They look at you with loathing before turning around and stalking off, noses in the air.

Draco looks back one more time and gives you a little wave, you wave back, smiling a little. You find you parents and walk out through the magical barrier, back into the muggle world.

Taglist? @just-a-belgian-girl @loonyvee @kashishwrites

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#draco x reader #draco malfoy series #Draco Malfoy #Draco request #draco image #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco series #a glimpse through the years #draco malfoy request #draco malfoy image #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy requests

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tanakavox · 3 years

Text

Look into the mutiverse chapter 4

Thanks again to ExiledDarkness for writing the charcters reaction for this chapter. Please go check out his stuff. And if your wondering where Qrow came from, We forgot to add a scene for Qrow and didn't feel like going back.

This chapter is based of the Youtuber SomecallmeJohnny and his review of Super Mario 64. I had to cut it short because my laptod was acting up again and google docs was acting wonky, parts of the fic getting erased. Rest assure for the Somecallmejohnny fans, I won't just do his reviews. I have plans to do Super gaming bros reaction as well. And for those who don't know Johnny, go check him! Enjoy the reaction.

The screen lights up again and shows Jaune wearing a cap and hoodie and sitting on a bright red couch. He had a bit of stubble on his face and he was currently holding a controller in his hand as he turned on a device known as the N64.

"Oh? Jaune looks good with stubble." Blake comments. Everyone looks at Jaune and then back to the one on the screen. They all nodded in agreement.

"It's a go time! Super Mario 64!" He said in a high pitched voice with a bad accent.

The Jaune on the screen sighed seemingly tired. "Lady and Gents welcome back to the Super Mario marathon, And just like with Ocarina of time, this is a game that haunted me during the N64 lifetime. Jaune looked the the N64 sitting on his dresser and continued. "It was like the console itself was actively mocking me like: "Hey Jauney? How about you ditch that playstation and try me out instead?" The blonde's eyes lit up in anger. "Well I didn't have a job in 1996 you sensitive prick!" Jaune snapped at the console.

Everyone blinked at the sudden anger. Ruby turned towards JNPR and asked, "Are you okay Jaune?"

Jaune, still frozen from the sudden burst of anger from his other self, snaps back to reality and nods at the question. "Yeah, I think I understand what's happening here. But I'll stay quiet until I know for sure."

Jaune turned toward the screen and went on like nothing happened. "Last time I gave Mario attention, I was focused on what made the Italian "Plumber—"" He said with quotation marks. "—the video game icon he is today. Now we're gonna do it again only in 3d."

Jaune turned to his audience and smiled. "You guys ready for another Super Mario marathon?"

"Aha!" Jaune says as he slammed his closed fist on his hand. "This is me doing video games!"

Ren paused at hearing this information. "Then that explains the sudden burst of anger then." Nora and Jaune nod while the rest of the audience looks on confusedly.

RWBY look at each other before Yang hesitantly asks, "So why did he get so angry?"

Jaune laughs before scratching the back of his head. "I like video games but I hate it when I can't progress further into the game. Sometimes I get really into it, I guess."

"Here we go, Super Mario 64, the 64 being figureded to the console and not the 64 game in the series, Mario's first 3d game, and a launch title for the N64. It was highly praised and hailed as the 3d version of what Super Mario bros on the NES did for platemors at the time, Mario 64 did the same. But I came into the 64 train late, So I don't have what you call: Super Mario 64 memories. In fact my first 3d Mario game was the next game we'll be looking at: Super Mario Sunshine on the GameCube. Jaune's expression darkened as he smiled hurmlousy. "But that can wait. Oh it can wait." The tone of his voice was bitter and venomous.

Everyone laughed now knowing the context of Jaune's anger towards video games.

"Alright booting the game up and the first thing you see is Mario's head. You know to really hammer in that this is Mario's first 3d adventure. You can even fuck around with the face a bit but it doesn't really effect the game it's just there for fun.

We're also greeted by Mario's new voice, provided by Charles Margent. Shockingly this isn't his debut as the Jumpman, that was in Mario Fundamental, a Pc game released a year before. Pretty sure no one heard of it before someone did a document on it.

"This idea of a floating Mario head, perhaps more infamously in Mario teaches typing two. A floating deformed head pop on the screen.

"Hey? Are you ready for Mario type?" It asked.

"Mother of God." Jaune deadpan in horror.

"Despite the new voice, Mario doesn't speak much. It's mostly hiyas woohoos throughout the game. And he only speaks a full phase when he completes a goal or he falls asleep on the job. It shows the red clad mario on the ground sleeping.

"Ha spatgai, Ha ravioli." The plumber mutters in his sleep.

Nora drools over the names of food. They sound pretty good right now.

"Charles as Mario is so absorbed into my head I can't imagine anyone else doing the role. It's not like the acting is amazing or anything, he's been voicing Mario for nearly 20 years at this point. If Charles stepped out of the role for any reason, the next guy would just try to simulate Charles' voice.

"It's weird that way," Ren piped up, "No matter what happens people are going to remember the original no matter how much the new one tries to be the old one.

"Hear hear ninja boy" Qrow cheered a bit and took a swig of his beer.

"Okay nearly forgot that I was looking at a video game, Sorry about that. Well let's look at that plot shall we?"

"I'm curious to hear about the kind of story this game might have," Ozpin said as he crosses his legs.

"Boswer kidnaps Princess Peach, Mario must go save her, now that didn't take long now did it?"

Ozpin blinked and sat back in his seat, a bit disappointed.

"I'll let it slide this time since they probably wanted to keep it safe for the first game in 3d. Hell, the menu theme is the main theme for the series."

Qrow snorts. "Fair enough. I guess you can't expect these guys to be that ballsy."

The entire game is set in Peach's castle. Boswer has taken the power star, which I believe gives the castle power? Jaune shrugged. I dunno what they do, it's not really explain and getting more powerstar allows you to get into more levels, and that's the name of the game here. Bowser had set up routine courses in painting.

"The courses tend to varies but nothing here gets too crazy like other Mario games. It's not until late game you go to more odd place like in a clocktower or riding rainbow.

"The game's openness is the first thing you'll take note of in Mario 64. You can start a mission with a hint on what to do,but there is nothing stopping you from just doing a different mission and grabbing the star despite not being the mission you clicked on.

There are a handful of expectations like racing against against Koopa the quick who not gonna show up unless you chose his mission, but most of the time you can go at it on your own pace. Eh, I didn't wanna fight King Bo-mb yet, I want free the chain chomp and get the star there. I could take down King twop, or I could do a well place jump and get this unrelated power star. And that's where a lot of Mario's replay value comes in, not just getting the power star but how you get them.

"Oh, this game sounds fun! I should get it if we ever get out of here." Nora exclaimed.

"With what money Nora?" Jaune asked. Nora looked at Jaune with a wide smile. "No." Jaune deadpan. Nora pouted at his response and turned to Ren with a wide smile.

"No Nora. And do not ask Weiss either." Ren said with his eyes still on the screen and Nora pouted again.

Peach's castle acts as a hub world, the place you're exploring and using to get to other stages to get more power stars. But in order to duke it out with Bowser, you need to get a certain amount of power stars to access the level. As a guy who doesn't care for hub worlds I don't mind Peach's castle. The levels aren't too far apart and there are things you can do in the castle that can help you increase your star count. Like a secret race track that gives you two stars if you're fast enough, or an underwater level that contains an easy to get star. It challenges you in a way that makes it still feel like a Mario game.

"It sounds pretty easy at first glance, but I can understand how annoying it can become if you mess up at least once or twice." Jaune says. Ruby, Nora, and even Ren nod in agreement.

The biggest change to the formula was the jump to 3d, like with Ocarina of Time. He still has to break boxes, stomp on enemies, the works but this game gave the man a few extra moves to go along with the change to 3d. The analog stick is used to move Mario, the further you tilled it the faster he moves, instead of the run button we knew from the past game. Mario still has the jumps he's famous for, but pressing the jump button can allow Mario to reach the heights he's never seen until this game without a power up. He can crouch and crawl but I've only used this a total of once. But you standstill and jump you can do a backflip, and if you crouch and run you can do a long jump which I love using so much and because you can do some real fancy shit with it, and it makes Mario move faster to boot. If you snap the anlong back and jump he can do a somersault and if you jump towards a wall, Mario can wall jump as well.

Nora makes a face at the detailed review. "All these moves and stuff sound annoying. Why can't games be as simple like they are now?!"

Ren sighs and begins to explain but Qrow cuts in. "It's because of games like these were like test models that you get to play the good quality games you have now. I remember playing Soaring Ninja back when he was literally unplayable and useless. Now look at him!"

Ruby and Yang gasp, Soaring Ninja was unplayable?

"I wouldn't be surprised if this move came from the gameboy version of Donkey kong. That remake has a fucklord of levels and a handstand jump for Mario. He still takes damage if he falls too far, so he's just a pale imitation. Jaune had Mario wall jump a wall to prove a point. "The Mario I know could fall from any height and take no dam-" Jaune cut himself off his eyes widening when he heard Mario grunt in pain and his health go down a bit. "WHAT THE FUCK! He took damage from a large height! Mario! What's the meaning of this?" He asked in bewilderment, looking at the floating Mario head from earlier."

"Oh nice computer you have here. Can I have it?" the Mario head asked

"No!" Jaune exclaimed.

Everyone's eyes widened at the scene. Ozpin checked his mug with scrutiny to see if he was still drinking the right drink. Looked normal enough.

"Peach's castle has 120 power stars in the castle, but you only need 70 of them to beat the game." Jaune had a strained smile on his face as he continued. But where the fun in just getting 70 power star and beating the game that way, it not like getting all the star is that time com- for fuck sakes yes it is!"

"Let's just get one thing clear, I fucking depise the 100 coin misson. It's as simple as it sounds, grab 100 coins and then grab the star that appears over your head. Lather rinse repeat, for all 15 courses. In a game that usually has you go to once place and grab the star, collecting these coins brings the game to grueling crawl. Mario 64 doesn't have a checkpoint system. It doesn't bother me much. The levels are usually small and with Mario's new moves getting the Power star is not only comartable, it's also pretty fucking fun. And then their these." That venomous tone from before came back. The screen showcased the blue coins that have appeared throughout most of the video so far.

"Aw it's one of those games! The type that needs you to waste your time actually going through all of what the game has planned for you before you get to the final boss! What a rip off!" Qrow exclaims, tossing his hands in the air. Jaune agrees, crossing his arms and trying not to join in on the rage.

"No amount of looking of cute puppies. can cotain the amount of rage i have when I fuck up these mission with a impeferct jump or when a enemey hits me from behind. It's not always a painful process, but sucks so hard cause the coins are either place so far part or because they're so goddamn scarce! "Gotta kill those enemies before the coins blink away and scatter when they spawn. These blue coins are 5 regular coin a piece but you gotta get them before they blink away and you only got one shot! Was there area I didnt search, an enemy I skipped, I did I fuck up somewhere since I only have 64 coins after look around what feels like for fucking ever?!

"And try not get the last coin in a dangerous area or impossible to backtrack to. The star will always appear right above Mario's head, so make sure it's a safe locati-GODDAMN!"

The star had appeared in a caged area that Mario couldn't reach.

Everyone laughed at the other Jaune's misery. The Arf viewing the screen feels relieved that he himself isn't on the receiving end. Or was he?

"Couldn't just tell the star to come to you Mario?" Jaune asked the Mario head on his computer.

"When a moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that's amore!" Mario began to sing and Jaune facepalm when he didn't get answered. "When an eel lunges out…

"UNGAI?!" Jaune jumping up. A eel appeared and let out a roar and Jaune wasn't in his chair anymore, It being left spinning by how fast he booked it.

"That's amore!" Mario finished singing and chuckled. Get it? Amore eel? I said funny.

"Fuck you!" Jaune said from somewhere in the house.

All the immature audience members fell out of their seats in laughter while the more mature chuckled at the scene.

At the end of the day, I really shouldn't be going for all the Power star, and that's more of a technical issue, but I'm gonna bitch anyway. But despite the age, this game is still a treat to play even today. This has been Somecallmejohnny, and you guys have a Good Day.

Nora stretches and yawns. "Well, that was a nice one. Funny too! I wonder what's next?"

The end

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby ruby rose #blake bellodona #yang xiao long #qrow branwen #rwby ozpin #headmaster ozpin #rwby salem #rwby nora valkyrie #rwby lie ren #rwby mercury black #emerald sustrai #rwby qrow branwen #rwby oscar pine #somecallmejohnny #somecallmejauney #look into the multiverse

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meltingheartsandcores · 4 years

Text

Part 1 Part 2 (here) Part 3

So this is part 2 of my WCZ and CZS don’t die and raise WWX and he breaks into Cloud Recess ficlet. It’s longer than I thought it would be and really just deals with the opening ceremony of the Cloud Recess lessons. I did my best, and mostly skipped over dialogue that was in the show but unneccessary to repeat. Also, this story isn’t beta’d, sorry.

If you have any questions feel free to ask.

As always, I hope you enjoy!

“How do you keep these clean?” Wei Wuxian asks as he follows Lan Wangji through Cloud Recess to the classroom. Apparently, Lan Wangji (Lan-er-Gongzi, as he was told by some disciple. Wuxian opted to ignore him.) was stuck babysitting Wei Wuxian for his time at Cloud Recess until he could be trusted alone.

Wei Wuxian would have to do his best to gain that trust. So he could immediately break it by shaving off Lan Qiren’s beard.

“Careful.” Lan Wangji states.

“But even if I’m super careful, I get my regular robes dirty. These are pure white, how can I possible keep them clean?” Lan Wangji gives him a stern look, and does not respond as they arrive at the Orchid House. Lan Wangji leads them to the front row and gestures for Wei Wuxian to stand next to the second desk. Lan Wangji stands behind his own desk, not quite in the right position but in a good position to keep Wei Wuxian from sneaking out and causing mayhem. With a sigh, Wei Wuxian waits as the other guest disciples enter. He’s never actually done classroom learning. He mostly learnt from his parents, which was almost always hands on now. Sometimes they visited Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu and he’d join their disciples but they’ve never done classroom learning then either. It’s mostly been training outdoors and teasing Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian is rather positive he’s never sat down and learnt something in his life. Even when he was young, he was taught talisman’s walking. Or riding on their donkey. Which was technically sitting but he’s never learnt in a proper classroom environment like Cloud Recess.

So this is a new experience. And his mother always says to embrace new experiences with joy and mischief. His father advises caution, but only in terms of ‘Don’t get over your head. And don’t get caught’.

Wei Wuxian loves his parents.

He looks to the disciples still slowly milling in and notices Jiang Cheng standing across the aisle. Due to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian couldn’t go over and say hi, but he waits until Jiang Cheng’s eyes wander in boredom and waves excitedly. Jiang Cheng’s face contorts into a pure ‘What the fuck’ expression, before he turned to the person standing next to him and points to Wei Wuxian. His excitement grows when he sees that it’s Jiang Yanli, who smiled at him and waved hello.

Wei Wuxian was about to gesture something else to the duo when Lan Wangji moved to be in proper position for greeting the teacher. Wei Wuxian shifts himself, looking forward as Lan Qiren walks into the room and takes a seat at the head table. Thankfully, his father had the foresight to teach him quite a bit about propriety and eitquette so Wei Wuxian knew enough of what to do.

He does still have to take some cues from Lan Wangji but he was mostly fine.

Wei Wuxian listens to Lan Qiren’s lecture (okay technically a senior disciple was giving it but Lan Qiren was presiding) for all of five minutes before he becomes so bored he’s at risk of falling asleep. So instead he focuses on trying to figure out how he can gain the trust of the Lans. He really doesn’t deserve it, but he has to convince them he does. Which will be hard.

His thoughts are interrupted by chirping. He looks around to find the source. He’s pretty sure it’s either coming from behind him or beside him. And since Lan Wangji is the only one beside him, that seems unlikely. So he turns, ignoring Lan Wangji, to see a boy crossing his sleeves to hide something. Wei Wuxian smiles, but quickly turns around when he remembers Lan Wangji right beside him. He doesn’t want the stranger to get caught, but the bird is still chirping… Wei Wuxian smoothly shifts one of his hands to rest against the small of his back before quickly doing a small talisman to put the bird to sleep. His father had made it when their donkey started having trouble sleeping. Apparently taking a donkey night-hunting had some negative affects on the donkey. Might’ve been Yiling.

The chirping stops and people stop looking around.

Eventually the Senior Disciple finishes and announces, “The Jin Clan of Lanling is Saluting.”

’The Jin Clan… Isn’t Shijie engaged to a guy from there?’Wei Wuxian watches as Mr. Gold Robes walks to the aisle with another disciple from the other side of Jiang Cheng.

“I am Jin Zixuan from the Jin Clan of Lanling.” Mr. Gold Robes states. ’Oh, that’s Shijie’s fiance.’ Wei Wuxian looks him over as he keeps talking, ignoring him mostly. ’She deserves better.’ Wei Wuxian decides when Mr. Gold Robes presents his present to Lan Qiren.

Wei Wuxian really hopes Lan Qiren doesn’t expect one from him. He didn’t even want to be here. Also. He forgot Suibian. He didn’t have anything that could be considered a gift.

Then again.

Mr. Gold Robes just gave Lan Qiren a gold book that was completely useless so, eh. Lan Qiren doesn’t have high standards apparently. Then again, if his Muqin is right (and she always is), the Jins tend to just throw gold at their problems until they go away, so maybe he only has low expectations from them.

Once they’re done and they’ve returned to their desks, the head disciple calls for the Nie Clan to Salute. Wei Wuxian turns when he hears rustling to see the man behind him- apparently of the Nie Clan- quickly putting the bird beneath his desk before walking past Wei Wuxian with what Wei Wuxian assumes is a disciple following behind. Except he’s not wearing the same white robes as everyone else.

Odd.

Wei Wuxian finds out after the pair introduce themselves. He’s already decided he’s going to befriend Nie Huaisang, anyone who would sneak a canary into a classroom is someone he wants to be friends with, but Meng Yao is interesting. Although, as an assistant he’s probably not staying for the lectures.

Wei Wuxian’s head turns sharply when he hears two disciples whispering. It was audible to everyone in the quiet room. “He’s the love child of Jin-Zhongzhu, right? It was said that he went to the Jin Clan for a proposal.”

Wei Wuxian turns to look at Lan Wangji, who has clearly heard the gossiping disciples. “Lan-er-gongzi, isn’t gossiping against the Lan clan’s rules?” Wei Wuxian whispers to Lan Wangji, although he’s probably not as quiet as he could have been since quite a few people turn to look at him. But Lan Wangji nods and suddenly neither of the gossiping disciples can open their mouths. Wei Wuxian glances over to the pair still in the aisle before turning his attention forward.

Zewu-Jun meets his eyes before turning and walking into the aisle to accept the gift. And praise Meng Yao.

When Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao walk back to their desks, Meng Yao gives Wei Wuxian a small smile, Wei Wuxian returns the smile, and silently vows to get to know both of them. Nie Huaisang was bound to be awesome, but he’s yet to get a good read on Meng Yao aside from Zewu-Jun liking him. Maybe he’s a fuddy duddy like Lan Wangji, maybe he’s mischievous like Wei Wuxian, only way to find out is to get to know him.

Finally, it was the Jiang Clan’s turn to salute. Jiang Cheng and a disciple walk into the aisle. Jiang Cheng was in the middle of introductions when a bunch of guys in red robes walk in, led by a greasy looking guy. They seem, vaguely familiar. Wei Wuxian’s first instinct is to ask Lan Wangji, but he’d probably not say anything, he actually looks really pissed off. Best not to bother him when he might be stab happy. So he turns to Nie Huaisang.

“Who’re they?” He whispers, really quietly this time as to not disturb their talking.

“The Wen Clan of Qishan.” Nie Huaisang whispers back.

Oh. That makes sense. “The overconfident overcompensating ones.” Wei Wuxian whispers. Although not quietly enough since the leader turns to glare at him.

“What did you just say?” The man demands.

Ah, shit. Wei Wuxian puts on the fake smile he learnt from his mom ( “Imagine you’re beating someone’s face in, smile, and then not do it.” “Why do you sound so disappointed?” “What’s the point of imagining beating someone up if you don’t get to do it?”) and salutes, “Please forgive this one, he did not mean to interrupt. He is merely a rogue cultivator graciously allowed into these lectures and was unaware of the major clans.” Eh, mostly truthful.

The leader sneers, “Cloud Recess has clearly gone bad if they’re letting people like you into the lectures.”

“As someone who’s never been to a Cloud Recess lecture, can you really make that call?” Wei Wuxian asks before he can stop himself. He really hates his mouth sometimes. The Lans don’t need him to defend them. He doesn’t even like them. Okay, he kind of likes Lan Wangji. The others he doesn’t give a shit about.

The leader scoffs, “A rogue cultivator with a big head.”

“At least I have the skill to back it.” Well. When you’ve gotten your feet wet, why not jump in?

“What did you just say?”

“I’m sure you heard me, young master, I did not stutter nor did I say it quietly. At your age your hearing should not be going and you were speaking to Zewu-Jun just fine.” Wei Wuxian says as polite as possible, “So I assume you intend to ask what I meant.” Yeah… he was pissing off this guy. “However, young master, please indulge this servant… what’s your name?” He should probably know. After all, Muqin is keeping a list of all Wei Wuxian’s enemies. It’s disturbingly long considering he’s only had three full years to make enemies. Wei Wuxian ignores the reactions, which was contained laughter -Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao-, Irritation -Lan Wangji and Mr. Gold Robes-, Concern -Shijie-, and ‘What the fuck shut up!’ -Jiang Cheng-, and adds, “This one does not mean to offend, he truly is unaware of the inner disciples of the major clans.” Wow is he going to feel bad if this guy isn’t an inner disciple. He has the attitude of one. Maybe related to the sect leader? He kind of acts like Jin Zixun. So. Probably not a direct descendent but a spoiled nephew or something.

“Do you live under a rock?” The man sneers.

“No. Although until two months ago I was living on a celestial mountain.” His Grandmaster had broken her rule of her disciples not being allowed back when she learned of his existence. Apparently Grandchildren trumped not wanting to interact with the mortal realm. Wei Wuxian didn’t mind. His Grandmaster was awesome. Although he didn’t actually live on the mountain. They visited for three months of the year, so, that was not an excuse to not know who this guy was.

Wei Wuxian’s answer causes murmurs to go up. Ah, yes. Right. Celestial Mountain removed from society is gossip worthy. Greeeat.

The man scoffs, but finally says, “I am Wen Chao.”

“It’s an honour to meet you, Wen-gongzi. Please forgive this one for his transgressions.” Ahh, Fuqin’s polite classes are finally being used. Even though Wei Wuxian would rather be using Fuqin’s ‘Break-a-face’ classes right now.

“Not unless you repeat what you said early in plain language.” Oh, great. He was stuck on that. Apparently Wei Wuxian would get to use Fuqin’s ‘Break-a-face’ classes anyways.

“I simply said that I had the skills to back up my big head.”

Aaaand Wen Chao is really pissed. Shouldn’t the Lans have stepped in by now? Or is Lan Qiren letting him hang himself? He hopes not. “And what did you mean.” Wen Chao hisses.

Ah, wonderful. There’s going to be a fight and he doesn’t have his sword. He shouldn’t have left her behind just because she was being moody. “That if you were truly skilled in cultivation as much as you boast, you would not need to throw raw power around recklessly. If your clan is truly as great as the rumours boast, then you would not need to have reckless displays of power, such as breaking into Cloud Recess.” Which is quite easy in Wei Wuxian’s opinion, thank you very much, not that he would say that. “It would be unnecessary. Displays of power with brute force rather than with your own cultivation shows how weak you truly are, and that you depend on others for things you should be able to do yourself.” Wei Wuxian shrugs, “I apologize if I am wrong, I was told the QishanWen Clan was one of Large Egos without the abilities to match up.”

“Wen-Zhongzhu has the abilities to match up. His strength is unparalleled in the cultivation world.” Wen Chao states with pride. Wei Wuxian is not sure why, it’s not like he’s Wen-Zhongzhu.

“And my mother’s vindictiveness is unparalleled. But your Clan Leader does not give your whole sect their reputation. Otherwise the entirety of the Jin Clan would be known as, womanizers.” Wei Wuxian nearly says Man-whores and suddenly wishes his mother would censor herself more around him. “A Clan’s reputation comes from it’s people. Not the leaders. And currently you give your clan the reputation of bully’s with a lot of brute force but no real cultivation skills.”

“Why you-“ Wen Chao starts, but finally Lan Qiren cuts in.

“Wen Chao, if you are not here to attend the lectures, I must ask that you leave the Orchid House. You have interrupted, if you remain, I will require you to remain for a few days to copy the entirety of Simple Propriety. A book you should have been taught long ago.” Lan Qiren states.

“Young Master Wen, today is our Ceremony Day, I hope that you can restrain yourself from attacking an unarmed disciple.” Zewu-Jun adds, and Wei Wuxian shifts uncomfortably. He’s grateful for the save- he was definitely talking himself into an early grave- but did they have to bring attention to the fact that he didn’t have his sword?

Wen Chao looks as if he does not want to restrain himself, but a woman interrupts him. Swiftly moving forward and saluting Zewu-Jun, and the Lan Qiren. “I am Wen Qing of the Wen Clan of Qishan, I am under orders of His Excellency to attend the lectures. We hope that Grandmaster Lan and Lan-Zhongzhu can forgive us for being late, myself and my little brother, Wen Ning, are new to Cloud Recess and do not know the rules.” Once she’s done, she offers a red chest to Zewu-Jun.

There’s a long silence before Lan Qiren states he’ll accept it. The Wen Clan leaves after Zewu-Jun tells them to be on time for tomorrows lecture. And then he gestures for the Jiang Clan to continue their salute before returning to his post. Once the Jiangs are done and they’re dismissed Wei Wuxian turns to Nie Huaisang.

“So, is Wen Chao someone important?”

“Ah? Wei-Xiong, do you really not know?” Nie Huaisang asks, seemingly surprised.

Meng Yao answers Wei Wuxian’s question, “Wen Chao is the youngest son of Wen-Zhongzhu.”

Oh. “Oh. Huh. Well, can’t undo the insults.”

“That was unwise.” Lan Wangji states.

“I didn’t mean to get into an argument. I tried to finish it! He kept talking to me.” Wei Wuxian defends. Lan Wangji shakes his head, clearly disappointed. At least, Wei Wuxian thinks he’s disappointed. Maybe tired? He should really learn how to read Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian turns to Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao with a smile, “Ah, Nie-Xiong, Meng-Xiong,” Maybe that was wrong? Meng Yao had jumped at the address. Oh well. “Would you mind educating this one a little? I have gaps in my knowledge.” Lan Wangji shakes his head, but does not remind Wei Wuxian about needing an escort, in fact, he walks away. Sweet.

“Ah, of course Wei-Xiong.” Nie Huaisang seemed more than happy to help. “But uh, what did you do to my bird?” He asks as the trio leave the Orchid House.

“Oh, I just put it to sleep. Couldn’t have her making noise and interrupting the senior disciple.” Wei Wuxian quickly undoes his talisman and the bird wakes up. And immediately starts singing. “Where’d you find her?” Wei Wuxian asks, admiring the red bird.

“On the way. I followed her for three whole days.” Nie Huaisang says happily.

“Wow.” Wei Wuxian definitely did not have the patience for that. “Impressive.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head, “Ah, no, it was nothing.”

“What do you plan to do with her?”

Nie Huaisang shrugs, “Probably let her go. Cloud Recess doesn’t allow pets. And neither does Da Ge.”

“And Da Ge is…” Wei Wuxian would assume it’s Clan Leader Nie, but, he can’t say for sure.

“Nie Huaisang is the younger brother of Qinghe Nie’s current Clan Leader.” Meng Yao states.

“Ah, thank you Meng-Xiong.” Meng Yao reacts the same way to the address as he did earlier, “Sorry, should I not be calling you such? I have limited interactions with Major Clans.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine. It’s just… it’s not proper. I am merely an assistant.”

“And I’m a rogue cultivator, I’m pretty sure I’m lower on the hierarchy than you.” Wei Wuxian says with a shrug. It’d be one thing if it was status, but, if Nie Huaisang is fine with the addresses, then Meng Yao shouldn’t have so much of a problem. Wei Wuxian is the lowest of the three of them, and Nie Huaisang the highest. Maybe Meng Yao is just really concerned with status?

Before he could say anything, Jiang Cheng interrupts with his normal grace and tact. Meaning he shoves Wei Wuxian and asks, “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m attending the lectures.” Wei Wuxian answers with a smile.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, “Why? You didn’t come here for them, or else you would’ve brought Suibian and Xueyan.”

Wei Wuxian nods, really regretting not taking either of them. “I was curious about the clan with over three thousand rules, so I broke in.”

”What?!”

“Lan Wangji caught me, brought me to face disciplinary action from Grandmaster Lan, and my disciplinary action was attending the lectures. And copying their rules like three times.”

“You’re attending the lectures as punishment?” Jiang Cheng’s tone was full of disbelief. Wei Wuxian didn’t understand why.

“...You’ve met my parents, A-Cheng.” Jiang Cheng takes a moment to think before nodding, disbelief disappearing from his face.

Meng Yao opens his mouth but snaps it shut when the Lan brothers come up to the group. The quartet salutes in greeting.

“This is from your mother.” Zewu-Jun says, handing over Suibian and Xueyan. Wei Wuxian’s face lights up as he accepts his sword and horsetail whisk from Zewu-Jun. Yes! It’d be great if he could actually draw Suibian, but he’ll test that out later. “She also sent a letter.” Zewu-Jun states, but makes no move to hand over a letter, which leaves two options. 1) The letter was to Lan Qiren -however it makes no sense for Zewu-Jun to tell him this.

So Option 2) “It was rude, wasn’t it?”

“It was a voice letter.” Wei Wuxian really resists the urge to cackle. Because his mother only sends voice letters for three reasons. 1) to chew someone out. 2) to laugh at someone who’s far away from her. 3) to encourage Wei Wuxian in being the Chaos Gremlin she raised.

He’d split his bet between 2 and 3. Leaning more toward 3.

“Ah.” He didn’t really have anything else to say.

“Your punishment will be carried out in the Library, Wangji will supervise you.” Zewu-Jun states, before saluting and leaving. “Ah, do we have to go now?” Wei Wuxian asks, his pleading face on for Lan Wangji.

It was useless. “Yes.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you later Nie-Xiong, Meng-Xiong. Don’t be so grumpy A-Cheng.” Wei Wuxian says and starts off in the direction he assumes the Library is in. Lan Wangji’s yank of his arm in a different direction proves his assumption false. “Ah, Er-gege, so rough!” Wei Wuxian whines.

“Ridiculous.”

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