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neonponders · 3 years

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I never thought I’d write a court jester!Steve x King!Billy fic, but here we are. I entirely blame @ghostofjellyfishforgotten and @drinkingbeerfroma for this 💋

The original king!Billy and jester!Steve fics are here~ (this is a gift for Ghost and meant to be read in tandem with their fics 🌹)

Drinkingbeerfroma’s fanart is here~ (the enabling source, send them some love 🌹)

P.s....you can probably tell how much of The Witcher: Blood and Wine influenced this for me lol Ch. 2 coming soon! Or, you know, some time!

Read on ao3.

• • • • • • •

Billy strolled into his royal chambers with a tune on his lips. Usually the rustle of clothing, the scoot of furniture, reacted to his whistle so that he could meet his jester right at the door. Or by the bed.

Then again, Steve did wander. Perhaps that’s why he worked as a jester: always the desire to move, to fidget, and it had lent into a natural proclivity for acrobatics.

Billy had never much cared for the athleticism of the job. Not that it wasn’t impressive, but the stunts were the bottom of his jester’s abilities. His Steve.

Steve, who was nowhere in the expansive rooms. Billy huffed a sigh through his nose. He began loitering around, investigating what his jester had left behind and what it could mean for where he’d gone.

Except…he’d left everything behind. Billy’s gaze locked on the sapphire and green velvet of the suit he’d gifted Steve himself, now left in a rumbled state on the bed. The gleaming silk fibers moved with the midday light of the window as Billy circled around the bed to touch them, as if to test that they were real. The fool as good as lived in the king’s royal chambers by this point, so he opened the dresser beside the large writing desk and—

Steve’s original suits and garments sat in the drawers, untouched. The yellow shirt Billy had torn—twice—until Steve left it in disrepair, tired of mending it. The red and purple suit which he’d first strolled into court wearing. His blue boots. The red boots. The god-awful yellow boots to go with that shirt apart from how stained they were from daily living.

What the hell is my fool wearing? Billy mused in disbelief, his amusement only checked by worry.

Amusement that snuffed out under the weight of a paper he finally saw on the desk itself. Both of Steve’s jester hats stood on either side of it, crowning the white square to garner Billy’s attention. More than once, Billy had marveled at his jester’s ability to read and write. This was not one of those times.

Majesty,

An emergency called me home. Nothing to worry about. I’ll return soon.

Yours,

Steve.

Billy read those four lines over and over again, worry tussling with indignant rage, and then confusion. He wanted more out of a note from Steve, which ought not be the prior concern in his mind, but there it was.

Why not address me by my name? This note is for me, nobody else. Who did you fear seeing it? In my own chambers? We’re far past courtly manners.

Largest understatement of his entire reign, but whatever. More annoying and concerning details eclipsed Billy’s focus.

He had no idea where ‘home’ meant for Steve. His Steve. Billy’s pride ordained that Billy is his home; what other place—or person—could have the audacity to yank his fool right out from under him?

Billy’s voice roared down the corridors outside his chambers. His staff was certainly used to making haste in their duties, but this was something else. The king had lost something precious to him, and hell would shiver until he had it back.

It is both a blessing and a curse that the lesbians in his court did not fear him.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Heather barked, swinging out of her room fully dressed in robes but hair a disaster. “Some of us like to do our own fucking now and again.”

“Where is Steve?” Billy growled, damned note in hand. “When did you last see him?”

“This morning,” she sighed with a tone that Billy did not understand until she added, “When he left with Robin. He warned me that you might be grouchy—”

“Grouch—” he began to seethe, but Heather took the paper right out of his hand to give it a look.

“He said he left you a note, your majesty,” she purred through a voice he now noticed to be quite raw. Overused. Her eyelids hung low like she was drunk, or three orgasms gone to the wind.

This only abated Billy’s nerves slightly. Steve genuinely left on his own?

“Where is home?”

Heather frowned at the lines. “For a musician, he isn’t great with words.”

“HEATHER.”

“Same home as my lady, Robin’s. They complain about their corner of the kingdom often enough,” she retorted while surrendering the note as if it had caught flame. “Good grief. How many months has it been? You really don’t pay attention. Your majesty.”

He grimaced pointedly at her lackadaisical manners this morning, but snatched the page up. The sour expression did not fade as he asked, “Who are you fucking if Robin’s not here?”

Heather’s groggy eyes rolled. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself many times over. You’re not the only one around here with an abundance of energy.”

Fuming and feeling too hot for his clothes, Billy marched back to his chambers, yelling orders about a horse.

* * *

More than one person urged against this decision. The more people who tried to talk him out of it, the more disheartening the whole point of secrecy became. Then again, roaring for the whole castle to hear, might not have been the wisest start.

So he sent a rider in one direction, on some pointless “errand for the king,” while he road in another.

It had been a long time since Billy wore commoners’ clothes. He also did not usually go clean-shaven, but he was a different person now. A lone rider on the king’s road, journeying his way to the edge of the kingdom. Two advisors had urged him to take an entourage, at most his best guardsman—but Billy is the best guardsman. First knight and crown prince under his father, The Tyrant. Every dawn stolen from him until the late king’s passing, utterly devoted to training hard, practicing consistent, and never, never losing.

Until the old bastard finally croaked from pneumonia. How simple. How mortal. And ironic, considering his playboy—rat of my blood—heir paraded around with open shirts whenever he was off duty. Constantly challenging gods and climate to do away with him whenever they wished.

The gods took a different king, though. Billy is the monarch now, and for a while, he will be nobody. A fool searching for his fool, and it was not lost on him how ironic his own death might become. But traveling alone on his own roads did not deter him. He’d been on these highways many times—hell, he’d even been assigned to designing and monitoring the reconstruction of the kingdom’s infrastructure.

His last steps on these roads occurred during the funeral tour for his father. An obnoxious tradition, but he’d made the journey in his first month as king. He wondered if anyone would recognize him now. He’d grown his hair out, and so often adorned his face with nothing less of stubble; often indulging in his own shaving kit to manage his facial hair himself and styled it differently whenever he wished. He liked the way lovers shivered against him when he touched their skin. When the lion pressed his lips against the lamb’s pulse.

He liked applying creams to Steve’s inflamed, beard-burnt skin.

He sighed over his horse’s even, medium paced trot. He was a fool, indeed.

* * *

The only thing keeping Billy from scolding himself for knowing so little about his jester, was the fascination of where he came from. Lady Robin entered court to jeers and teasing over her humble, bumpkin origins—before she rightly debated and venomously talked her way around every gnat who dared flaunt a lower intelligence over her.

Billy knew she and Steve got along, but not how much they had in common. Originating from one of the farming districts was one thing, but specifically the dairy and vineyard region proved a fascinating piece of information.

As well as a gorgeous journey. It took a day and two nights, but forests soon exhaled into rolling hills for lines of grape trees, pastures for cattle, sheep, and goats. Billy knew he was getting closer to the center of it all because grapevines began to line the road, with signs every couple of miles encouraging travelers to eat their fill, along with a number informing how far they were to more accommodating civilization.

The smell of shit and manure dampened the experience, but Billy could not claim ignorance over how his own city smelt during the summer. Even under royal decree that half the fleabags leave the capital in order to minimize summer fever and pestilence, the place still reeked.

The road began to veer down into a lush valley of hills; below was the bustling city of this region, and above stood a number of large homes. One ought to have appeared bigger than the rest, but such shared opulence suggested a wealthy middle class instead of one lord standing above them all. Economically, this was healthier. Socially, Billy felt utterly foreign to this hierarchal shape. His court was an uneven, pyramid hourglass. With himself standing on its point, a bloated pool of lords and deceit, then a strangled middle class before an even bigger pool of lower class just trying to feed themselves. It is a shape which cannot hold itself up, and yet he tirelessly managed it.

It’s not my fault, he defended to nobody. It’s what I inherited.

He pat his horse’s neck, feeling the silken grey fur that drew passersby’s glances. He had a beautiful mount: a grey so vibrant she looked blue under storm clouds. His saddle and bridle were humble; couldn’t very well walk around with his embossed leather saddle or a bridle glittering with the king’s golden medallions on every buckle.

When a woman gazed a little too long at him instead of his horse, Billy eased to a stop and smiled charmingly. “Excuse me, where might I find the House of Buckley?”

She adjusted the basket in her arms to hold it on her hip while she swayed coyly. “Peach-colored house on the hill, sir. May I ask what business you have there?”

“Visiting a friend.” Unless she’s in disguise too.

“Best to wait until evening time. Everyone’s in the market or out in the fields right now.”

Billy tilted his head at her. “Buckley is a noble house.” Nobody is working in the fields from that family—

Then she laughed. Laughed. “Are you from the capital?”

Billy’s charm faltered on his face, but he picked it back up easily enough. “Thereabouts. Why?”

“Because people from the capital believe everyone’s rich. Rich enough to sit or poor enough to not own a chair. We all work here, and we’re all in the market or the fields. I can tell you which are Sir Buckley’s, though.”

The little twit liked being a know-it-all, but it served Billy a great deal to be given the tour. Here, property decided who reigned, and property came in the form of land, livestock, or both. With that came a handful of useful names: Buckley, Hagan, Harrington, Wheel—

Billy’s eyes widened like a cat’s pupils dilating on prey. “STEVE!”

Because…there he was. His Steve, strolling right up the cobbled road from the hills and into the market with a donkey loaded with grape baskets beside him. He hadn’t heard his name, giving Billy the time to absorb every new detail about the man who vanished from his castle.

The white, puffy shirt held close to his body with a waistcoat. High-waisted trousers made his legs look long and lean over workman’s boots. He shoved up the colorful fabric ties around his biceps, holding up the shirtsleeves but failing due to all of the sweat from a day in the sun. A belt sagged a little diagonally around his hips, on which such things as pliers, shears, a garden knife, and a pair of leather and canvas gloves waited for use.

Steve took off a large sunhat and set it on the donkey’s head, combing both of his hands through his voluminous, brown hair—

“Steve!”

Billy began to walk his horse in that direction, having long since dismounted for the courtesy of his guide, but now the latter gripped his arm in warning. “That’s Lord Harrington to you.”

Billy blew a raspberry right into the air, scoffing, “Excuse me?”

The woman rolled her eyes so hard, she would have been thrown into a stockade for behaving like that to—well, to a king. But she let go of him and went on her way, leaving him to his fate.

So off he went. Billy walked his mount over to where a collection of people were attending to the donkey and the grapes, and Steve nodded in discussion with an older man.

“Lord Harrington, I hear?” he crooned in greeting.

Two heads rotated toward him, and Billy felt rather smacked in the face by the matching eyes and nose. Father. This is Steve’s father.

Lord Harrington. Twice over.

Steve’s features opened with shocked eyes and a dropped jaw. His eyes darted to his father’s frown, and Billy quickly backpedaled, “I apologize. I know the younger, but not the older. My name’s Billy Hargrove.”

He’d bowed his fair share as a knight, though the gesture felt far removed since he was out of practice. Never the less, Steve gaped at his king bowing slightly at the hips and extending a hand for Lord Harrington to shake.

Thing about being king, not many people actually know the monarchy’s family name. They knew William the Second. William of the Grove. Some whispered the Second Tyrant, but only because Billy was still young and new to being king. They were waiting for him to prove them right.

Lord Harrington shook his head with a glance at his son. “You didn’t say anyone was coming with you.”

“I didn’t think anyone was,” Steve answered bluntly, but he picked up the gist of Billy’s disguise easily enough. “Billy’s been a big help to me in the capital.”

“How so?”

Billy’s brows lifted, but before he could provide a veiled innuendo, Steve chirped, “Roommates. Got me a job. Kept me fed.”

“I did my best,” Billy crooned. He watched Steve’s apple bob in his throat.

Lord Harrington, with his similar, albeit shorter and silver, hair and weathered skin opened his arm to gesture Billy up the road. “You’ll be our guest, then. I’ll show you along. Are you staying at the inn?”

“No, my lord. I’ve only just arrived.”

“Very good. This way. Steve, remind Roger about the textiles. We’ve sheared the animals twice already this season. He needs to either wash it or sell it. We can’t hold onto it or else it will mold and be useless to barter.”

Billy peeked at Steve, who similarly veered to go on his separate way. He met Billy’s gaze for the briefest second, and he looked…not entirely happy to see Billy.

The king did not like that at all.

* * *

Billy looked around the Harrington estate, taking in every detail that Lord Harrington granted him. He had yet to see an inkling of whatever this emergency could have been to rush Steve out of the capital. Out of Billy’s bed. It made sense, now, why he had left everything behind, since he had a home and full wardrobe waiting for him here. Billy had not seen a glimpse of Lady Buckley, though.

People are supposed to ask my permission to leave, damn it. Or at the very least, inform him first. Not skip town like bandits.

The Harrington house looked out over the estate’s vast hills of grapes, goats, and sheep. It would have been endearing, the farmers using their canes to nudge the goats along the alleys of vines so they could snack on fallen grapes. Endearing, if Steve had been the one to show him all this. Billy wanted Steve next to him on this veranda—if it could be called that. The house and its balconies overlooking the city and hills were much smaller than his castle’s, of course.

Billy did not stay long in his rooms—room. Just a room. You certainly acclimated to luxury, he reminded himself. One of his first orders in the castle had been a complete renovation to his chambers. He would not live in his father’s rooms. Those were turned into a storage branch of the castle, and Billy had several walls knocked down to make way for the new royal apartments. Let the old bastard haunt the broom cupboards.

Billy trotted down the narrow stairs into what felt like an abrupt arrival at the dining room. Further down in the house would be the kitchen but there was a smaller, stewards’ pantry, of sorts, in which a woman stood and rotated upon hearing him. It took a second, but Billy remembered to bow.

“Am I correct in addressing the lady of the house?”

“You are,” smiled Lady Harrington. It came as no surprise that she looked at least ten years younger than her husband, but the blonde hair did catch Billy off guard. She offered her hand, which he took and kissed its back.

“For some reason, I didn’t think Steve took after his father so much.”

“In looks only. He has all his personality from me.”

Billy rocked a little on his heels, humming an acknowledging sound. He certainly did not voice his amusement that she might’ve just revealed more about her marital bed than she meant to. He simply replied, “I believe it. May I ask: Steve and Lady Buckley rushed out with hardly any explanation. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything’s no more out of the ordinary than it usually is,” she began, returning to her task of preparing what looked like a fruit-soaked wine for their dinner. She sliced up apples and peaches with a curved blade and a practiced hand. “However, our ordinary can be quite sudden and busy.”

A different hum came from Billy’s chest at that. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, if you’re offering, you can half those grapes right there.”

Billy sent the wooden bowl of fruit a dubious glance and then laughed breathily, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she smiled. “For now, you can help me prepare the wine.”

A long dead growl moved through Billy’s mind. Woman’s work—

Stay dead, tyrant, Billy hushed with finality. He accepted the spare knife from her and did the task he was given. She couldn’t know that he was who he was, after all. No one in this town apart from Steve knew that Billy could supply the money, machinery, and manpower at a moment’s notice for whatever reason they might need—

Chatter and laughter moved like a reverse echo outside the house, blooming quickly until, of all people, Robin Buckley herself clapped on the stoop of the Harrington’s side door. Open as it is for the breeze to come and go, she waltzed right in, and stopped at the sight of Billy. Her laughter cut off only to be replaced with, “You!”

“Me,” he threw right back. He raised a brow at a woman of the royal court wearing trousers and boots.

Lady Harrington chimed, “Oh, so you are friends.”

Billy peered back at her. “Was there any doubt?”

“Oh, dear, you look like you’ve never worked a field in your life.”

Billy had never heard his jaw hit the floor until that moment. Robin’s chuckle arrived beside him as she ripped off a handful of grapes for a snack. “When did you get here?”

“Not an hour ago.”

“You could’ve stayed put.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he growled, hoping that she heard his meaning through the words. I’m still your king even if no one here knows it.

She smirked, hearing loud and clear. “Steve gave me the heads up.”

He matched her smile, tone dripping with charming venom. “And where is he?”

She shook her head at him, cooing a tone that was both soothing and condescending. “He’ll be around. You’re in…his house, after all. Thanks, Anne.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” came Lady Harrington’s reply, but Billy hardly heard it.

He was in Steve’s house. A lord’s house. Lord Harrington’s house…and Billy was just some nobody.

Robin really was enjoying this too much.

#harringrove #jester!steve #king!billy #ficlet #neonponders #ghostofjellyfishforgotten #here we go again #pondermoniums

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Could you do a story where Thirteen bumps into the tenth doctor and Donna and thirteen pretends that she's not the doctor but then post-library river comes along and causes mischief please? Also I REALLY love your fics, especially The Oncoming Storm! Yours were the first fanfics I read and they're one of the few I like (I'm picky) so thanks for doing such brilliant stories!

Aww thank you so much, that’s very kind of you to say!! Sorry this took a little while longer, hope the wait was worth it! Turned out a bit longer than expected. Hope it sort of fits the brief lol! Really hope you like it!

Rating: G

Ship: Ten/River, Thirteen/River

Word count: 2400

Read on AO3 or below

River Song Has Been Saved

“Hang on a minute, Doctor.“ Donna walked back over to the TARDIS doors after the Doctor had closed them with a snap of his fingers. She thought she’d seen something, just as the doors had closed.

“What’s wrong?“ The Doctor frowned and followed her, both sticking their heads out.

“Oi, lady!“ Donna called stopping a young woman that had just strolled past the TARDIS and was heading back deeper into the Library. Everyone was supposed to be evacuated by now.

“Sorry?“ The woman looked around, blonde hair framing soft features and big eyes. She looked to them as if she hadn’t expected them to be there.

“You can’t go in there.“ The Doctor gestured to the door that lead further into the Library as they stepped out of the TARDIS again. Only a moment longer and they would have taken off and missed her sneaking in here.

“Ahh… so close. Just a bit too early, wasn’t I, hate it when I do that…“ The blonde said to herself more than anything else.

“Did you just come here? The planet has been sealed off for a hundred years, how did you…“ The Doctor frowned, confused as to how she’d got in.

“Yeah, been meaning to check it out.“ The woman grinned. “The hair is magnificent, isn’t it.“ She eyed the Doctor up who looked back at her utterly bewildered. There was something familiar about her.

“Do I know you?“ He asked.

“No absolutely not, never mind me, I’m sure you got important things to do, so.“ She gave a little wave, intend on heading off.

“You can’t go in there, we’re evacuating the planet.“ Donna backed up the Doctor.

“I know, you have a nice day now.“ The woman grinned.

“Sorry, I can’t let you do that.“ The Doctor was quick to overtake her and step in her way. “This place is gonna get swallowed up by flesh eating darkness soon, you might want to head out not in?“

“I got to check something out of the library, I’ll only be a minute.“ She waved off his warning and tried to push past him. “And like you say, the window of opportunity is closing, so, you should probably leave this place yourselves…“

“And you can’t find your book any other place?“ Donna asked dumbfounded.

“One of a kind, sorry, got to run.“ The blonde replied with a grin pushing past him.

“Alright, have a nice day as well.“ The Doctor let her pass.

“Thanks!“ She grinned and sprinted off.

“Doctor, you're not just gonna let her go, are you?“ Donna asked thoroughly confused watching her leave.

“Not a chance. Just giving her a head start.“ The Doctor winked and they headed after her, careful not to be spotted. They took cover behind some tables in the main area as the blonde headed straight for a computer terminal.

“That was close, stupid box, always with the timing…“ She was mumbling to herself. “Couldn’t have hung on two minutes…“ Without further ado, she started pulling some sort of electrical equipment from the pockets of her impressive coat. There were a lot of parts to it and Donna couldn’t believe it all somehow fit into her pockets. They watched her as she hooked up the equipment to the computer.

“What is she doing?“ Donna whispered to the Doctor who shrugged.

“I’m more concerned with who she is… whatever she is doing, that’s complicated tech…“ He mused, watching in fascination as she continued her work.

“Ouch… alright then.“ The blonde pulled her hands away as she seemed to have gotten an electric shock. She stood and engaged the computer terminal. “CAL, hi, sorry, I know, bit confusing, different face.“ She started talking to the computer and the Doctor and Donna exchanged concerned looks. How did she know about CAL? What she was saying was making very little sense to them without the second half of the conversation. They couldn’t make out what CAL responded. “Just popping in to get what’s mine, alright? Don’t freak out, it’s really me. Can you put her on?“ There was a moment of silence. Neither Donna nor the Doctor said anything but there were only very few people she should be looking to talk to on that computer. This was about to get even more investing than the whole experience had been already. “Hello Sweetie. Surprise! This is gonna be great, you’re gonna love this, had Dorium track it down for me, took a while but here we are.“ The woman sounded thoroughly excited. “Get you coat, honey, let’s see if it works.“ She took a step backwards and pulled something from her coat pocket, pointing it at the computer. Sparks flew and the mechanism engaged.

“Can’t have come cheap, that.“

“Dorium Maldovar is known drive a hard bargain, she must be a hacker or criminal of some kind to have those kinds of ties.“ The Doctor mused, trying to make sense of what they were picking up.

“Perhaps Dorium just owes her a favour…“

“Dorium doesn’t do favours.“ He huffed. It was a ridiculous notion.

“He will.“

“Doctor.“ Donna touched her hand to his arm.

“Shush, Donna, I don’t want to lose the element of surprise.“ He kept his eyes firmly on the woman in the middle of the room who was looking around now, apparently waiting to see if whatever she had tried to do had worked.

“Doctor.“ Donna repeated.

“How much longer until he notices, you think?“

“Doctor?!“ Donna grabbed the Doctor by the shoulder and pulled him around.

“Donna, what?!“ He growled but stopped dead in his tacks when he found River Song standing behind them. He had been having a conversation with her without even realising it. She was dressed in a white flowing dress, a stark contrast to the environmental suit he’d only seen her in, and a grinned spread across her beautiful features.

“Hello, Sweetie.“ She chuckled.

“Oh my God, River, what, how…“ The Doctor couldn’t find words.

“Well, Sweetie, what do you think?“ River grinned at the Doctor.

“Of what?“ He was still in shock. He had watched her die only hours ago, he had managed to somehow, miraculously save her consciousness and now suddenly she was here again? “How did you get out of the computer? What did she do?“

“Some sort of teleport I believe, but like a really clever 3D printer, materialise the body, download the consciousness, boom, brand new wife.“ River explained, enjoying the dumbfound expression on both their faces.

“River!!“ The blonde had finally spotted her and River waved to her.

“Speaking of wife…“ River smirked and the Doctor exclaimed:

“Wife?! I thought you and me, we…“ He looked around to the woman heading straight for them, feeling a wave of jealousy. He knew he’d technically only met River today but he knew how important she would become to him.

“We are.“ River chuckled giving his an amused smirk: “But you know, you can’t talk, all I’m gonna say is: Elizabeth I… so…“ She couldn’t carry on as the blonde rushed around the counter and threw herself at River who pulled her close and twirled her around.

“River.“ The mystery woman took her face in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes, clearly overcome with emotion.

“Hello, Sweetie.“ River smiled the softest of smiles and leaned in to kiss her.

“Sooo… how do you feel about this?“ Donna looked to the Doctor, feeling like they were intruding on a private moment. “You think we should go, or…“ She could tell from the annoyed expression on the Doctor’s face, however, that he had no intention of just leaving it be. He pulled himself up to full height and cleared his throat.

“Okay, so thank you for saving my future…“

“Wife.“ River helpfully supplied the word as they stopped kissing and just held each other close.

“Whatever she is. But who are you?“ He jabbed his finger at the blonde.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?“ The woman let go of River, seemingly reluctantly, and turned to face him. She kept her hand intertwined with River’s.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy River isn’t dead but my future self spent a lot of time thinking about how to save her and then you just waltz in here having to do one better?“ The Doctor crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Well, sadly, you’ll not remember that I came here.“ The woman replied.

“What?“ Donna was utterly confused now.

“Why not?“ The Doctor demanded to know, unsure whether or not that was supposed to be a threat.

“God, you’re slow. Did I give you a concussion when I knocked you out?“ River raised her eyebrows playfully.

“Maybe it’s cause of the hair spray…“ The blonde mused.

“I don’t use…“ The Doctor was going to protest but River had already changed directions:

“Don’t tell me you’re not using hairspray now.“ She ran her hand through the other woman’s blonde bob.

“Naturally falls like that, thank you very much.“ She huffed in response. “Regeneration is a lottery as you should know by now.“

“Are you a timelord?!“ The Doctor exclaimed, not sure how to interpret the statement.

“Yes.“ The blonde replied in amusement.

“But I thought I was the last…“ The Doctor stared back at her in shock.

“Yes, which makes me…“

“You can’t be.“ He shook his head.

“Yes I am the…“ The blonde started but the didn’t allow her to finish.

“You can’t be the Master, he…“

“So close.“ The mystery woman sighed hanging her head theatrically.

“It’s like watching one of those dumb and dumber movies, isn’t it.“ River chuckled to Donna who had long given up trying to follow.

“Hang on!“ The Doctor exclaimed as the penny dropped.

“Yes, crossing time streams, you won’t remember this because you are crossing your own time stream right now! I am you.“ The blonde Doctor sighed, she couldn’t believe she had to spell it out for him like that.

“Pretty boy and pretty girl.“ Donna found herself chuckling almost involuntarily.

“Aren’t they?“ River agreed with a smirk. “The mind races.“

“River. Shut up!“ The Doctor chanted in unison.

“But you’re short!“ The younger Doctor groaned in annoyance as he looked her up and down.

“I am actually rather average height, as it happens! Why does everyone call me small?!“ The older Doctor huffed. “Did I really use to be so obsessed with my height?!“

“Size isn’t everything, darling.“ River pipped up.

“Still not ginger then.“ The younger Doctor carried on.

“None of the next four, no.“ She replied with a shrug.

“Four more regenerations and only now did you work out how to save her?“ He exclaimed looking to River.

“I actually gave her the screwdriver last time we met, thank you very much. One step at a time.“ The older Doctor huffed and turned to her wife: “I booked that suite on Darillium again, by the way, for a few nights, just, you know, if you haven’t got any other plans.“

“Well, this is going to be a whole new experience.“ River smirked looking her up and down. This was the first she was seeing of her spouse’s most recent regeneration and she was beyond intrigued.

“Like it?“ The blonde Doctor asked with a little smirk and River grinned:

“Love it.“

“I don’t like her. Do you like her?“ The younger Doctor turned to Donna, just as his future self pulled their wife in for another kiss.

“Are you jealous of yourself?“ Donna teased and he gave her a playful shove.

“So you’re really him? Just older?“ Donna turned to the future Doctor, still struggling to believe that they were the same person. She knew what regeneration meant but it wasn’t like she’d ever seen the result of one.

“Different face, same dumbass.“ The Doctor retorted with a grin.

“Well done for saving her, Doctor.“ Donna smiled as they looked to River who said her goodbyes to the younger Doctor at present. “She really needed you, this version of you.“ Donna thought back to how devastated River had been at the total lack of recognition on the Doctor’s part. She had missed her Doctor so very much.

“I know. I remember.“ The Doctor gave a sad sort of smile as she thought back to when she had first met River, remembering the pain and sorrow in her eyes. “Donna, I can’t know, you know. You can’t tell me, else I might not get here, details my change and a paradox will be created if I know River lived.“ The Doctor turned to her to explain and Donna nodded slowly, they had mentioned it on the way back to the TARDIS already. This Doctor’s TARDIS was parked right behind their’s where they hadn’t been able to spot it as they got out. “Just be there for him. He’s already struggling, even if he doesn’t show it, even if he doesn’t know her yet, he still knows what and who he’s lost.“ The Doctor tried her best to explain to her what was going on in her younger self’s head.

“How long as it been for you? Since she died. How long have had to carry that with you?“ Donna asked taking her hand comfortingly.

“Some questions are better left unanswered.“ The Doctor shook her head and smiled. “It was good to see you, Donna.“ She pulled her into a hug.

“It was good to meet you, this version of you.“ Donna smiled and let her go, just as River and the other Doctor joined them.

“Well done, Doctor.“ The younger Doctor smiled and extended his hand to her.

“You too, Doctor.“ The blonde smile in return and shook his hand.

“You sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea, or…“ River suggested pointing to the TARDIS:

“Down, girl.“ The older Doctor smirked and took her hand in hers.

“You’ll be seeing me again soon, Doctor.“ River smiled at the younger Doctor who grinned:

“I look forward to it.“

“No telling.“ The older Doctor reminded Donna who nodded and smiled:

“My lips are sealed.“

“Now about that suite.“ River smirked at her wife as they turned to their TARDIS.

“Think the TARDIS bedroom will do for now, don’t you?“ The Doctor chuckled as she unlocked the door.

“Bedroom, kitchen, console room, wardrobe hall…“ River smirked and pulled her inside.

“Good for you, Doctor, so you’re not an eternal virgin then.“ Donna teased pulling her Doctor along to their TARDIS before he could get any more jealous.

#Doctor who #River song #river song x thirteen #fanfiction #thirteenth doctor #river x thirteen #space wives #thirteen #river x the doctor #femslash #Ten #tenth doctor #Donna nobel #River x ten #Prompt #Fluff #Library fix it #Fix it #Humour

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lost-your-memory · 4 years

Note

Hi! For the prompt thing, could you do "Zero fucks given. Next please", supercat? Thank you! Have a nice lockdown :)

Heeey thank you for the prompt and for the lovely words on the previous one! I hope this one will please you as well. After Bhutan, let’s travel to Washington D.C and have some classic Cat Grant, ‘cause we all miss her.I know I was supposed to keep it under the 2K words limit ... Well, this is 3K words but you know ... Oops? ---

Cat is barely ten minutes in when she loses her patience.

There are unorganized piles of documents threatening to spill over her desk, all the lights on her phone are blinking red with missed calls and voicemails and there’s not a single cup of coffee in sight.

“Oh for the love of …” Cat swears under her breath, already striding toward her desk.

The sound of her heels hitting the luxurious wooden floor is enough to induce the beginning of a migraine and, not for the first time, she misses the soft carpeted flooring of her carefully designed CatCo office. She drops her purse on the chair strategically placed in between two massive French doors and fishes out her phone and a glass case before moving to her desk. She turns her laptop on and takes one glance at the still blinking phone display before raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, to try to alleviate the ever growing pain.

She slowly sits in her plush, comfortable chair and takes a deep breath before opening her mouth.

“DYLAN!”

She stares at the door across the room, waiting for her exceptionally incompetent assistant to show up.

She’s seething, clearly not having expected that level of sheer laziness and utter amateurism from the cohort of assistants she’s already gone through since she got here.

She would have thought that her position at the White House, as Olivia’s right hand, meant that she would get the best of the best, la crème de la crème but sadly, she’s been stuck with wannabe politician who could barely handle the phone. It is telling that James Olsen, who once manhandled the phone for her, did better than any of the poor, useless souls that she’s been stuck with and at a time, he’d been an editor in chief and awarded photographer.

The door finally opened and young man with short blond hair and deep blue eyes popped his head through, looking downright terrified.

“You called, Miss Grant?”

Cat notices how the pale blue color of his shirt, perfectly ironed and stretched around his tanned neck, clashes with the crimson red tie. That fashion mistake should be motive enough to fire him, Cat briefly thinks. Only Supergirl was able to pull off that god-awful combination of childish colors.

“Come on in,” Cat gestures for her assistant to approach the desk.

The man pales, and he looks like he wants to be anywhere else in the world, but he eventually closes the door behind him and takes a few steps into the office. His real name isn’t Dylan and Cat knows it but so far, no one had been competent enough to earn the right to be called by their actual name.

“Have a look, Dylan,” Cat distinctly enunciate the wrong name, knowing he won’t say anything about it. She gestures for her desk and asks “What do you see?”

The wrongly named Dylan glances down at the desk and frowns, looking utterly confused. He’s almost shaking, Cat can tell from the way he’s tightly holding his hands together in front of the buttoned jacket of his suit.

“Uh, Miss Grant?” Dylan asks, obviously not understanding the question.

Cat lets out a deep and aggravated sigh. She brings her hand to hoover above the blinking phone display and waits but nothing happens. The look of utter confusion in the man’s eyes only deepens.

“For God’s sake!” Cat sharply stands up and places her palms flat on the surface of her desk, leaning forward to be able to stare right into the man’s eyes. “The phone is exploding with missed calls and voicemails, there are piles and piles of paper stacked on my desk and where the hell is my coffee?”

That seems to finally sparkle something in the man’s eyes, a gleam of recognition. He looks almost relieved and then words spill out of his mouth.

“Oh, if it’s a coffee you want I can …”

Cat pinches the bridge of her nose again, closes her eyes and takes another deep breath.

She raises her other hand to signal for Dylan to stop talking. Thankfully, he’s not that obtuse as to ignore that order, and so she takes a moment to count backward in her head. When she finally reaches zero, she opens her eyes and stares into the terrified blue eyes.

“Pack up your things, you’re fired.”

She slowly sits back in her chair and with a typical flicker of her wrists, she finishes dismissing the new former assistant.

---

“Cat, it’s the tenth assistant you’ve fired,” Olivia sighs, accepting the heavy glass of Scotch her friend is handing her. “You’re only six months in the job and my chief of staff is already threatening to quit.”

Cat chuckles and comes to sit in front of the president, in one of the luxurious and comfortable armchairs that match the couch on which Olivia is settled. She’s got her own glass in her hand, half-full of a honey-ish beverage that gently swirls with every move her wrist makes.

“That’s because Russell doesn’t like me, it has nothing to do with the level of turn-over in my team,” She sarcastically retorts.

“Probably, but you still fired Donovan, who also happens to be the nephew of a senator I was hoping to get endorsed by …” Olivia reproaches before taking a sip of her drink. She hums appreciatively. “Oh, that’s good Scotch.”

“Zero fucks given. Next, please!” Cat retorts with a shrug.

That gets a reproving look from the President of the United States.

“Come on, Olivia. You know I don’t like nepotism and beside, that boy was utterly and desperately useless. He once announced that the French president was on the line for me but when I picked up, I got to talk with the king of Belgium …”

Olivia now looks positively horrified. She shakes her head, lets out another sigh and then decides to chase it all with another sip of Scotch.

For a moment, they stay quiet and enjoy their drink, as well as the soft music that plays in the background, a piece of Vivaldi’s four seasons.

The many high windows along the wall let in the fading light of the late summer day.

The skyline view is far away from the one she had from her penthouse in National City but it’s still decent enough so she can watch as Washington bathes in the golden halo of the late afternoon. On the other side of the sky, it’s already dark enough for a few stars to start twinkling.

“You know you won’t ever find someone as good as her, right?”

Olivia’s words are soft and gentle and when Cat tears her eyes away from the view, she falls into a pair of knowing brown eyes. She hates that her friend can read her so easily, but she doesn’t deny that she’s got a point.

“Oh, I know,” Cat whispers, trying not to be overloaded with memories of Kara. “I’m not trying to.”

“Aren’t you?” Olivia counters, leaning forward to place her glass on the coffee table in front of her.

“I’m not, I promise,” Cat nods, bringing her own drink to her lips and savoring a few sips before adding. “I have impossibly high standards but even I know that finding another Supergirl to be my assistant won’t be possible.”

An amused smiles graces Olivia’s lips at that, and she lets herself fall back against the cushions.

“Ah, so the cat’s out of the bag, so to speak …” Olivia muses, extending her arms on either side of her, along the slope of the couch. “I was wondering …”

Cat scrunches her nose and glares at her friend.

“You know I have cat puns,” Cat grits out, slightly annoyed that the President of the United States would even make one in the first place. “And yes, of course I knew. I’ve known since the very beginning but I figured that one day, she’d tell me herself ... "

“Careful, Cat, you sound bitter,” Olivia arches a brow, her smile still firmly in place.

“That’s because I am. I branded her, you know …” Cat retorts, standing up from her armchair and going to her liquor cabinet to pour herself another glass. “I helped Supergirl be the hero she is today, by giving her a name, a platform and a reputation, by protecting her identity … and she never told me who she really is.”

“That may be so, but she doesn’t owe you anything,” Olivia gently replies and when Cat rises the decanter in her direction, she simply shakes her head no. “Beside … you probably left before she got a chance to tell you.”

Cat replaces the alcohol atop her liquor cabinet and comes back to her previous spot to face her friend.

“I didn’t leave because of her,” Cat states, making the Scotch swirls at the bottom of her heavy crystal glass.

“No?” Olivia throws her a knowing look. “You could have fooled me …”

Cat grits her teeth and looks away to the falling night. More stars are now blinking in the sky, neighboring a shy crescent of moon while Washington slowly blurs into an indistinct shadow.

“You should call her, you know,” Olivia offers, checking the phone she just pulled out of her pocket. Whatever she sees on it has her frown.

“Everything alright?” Cat asks, purposely ignoring her friend’s advice.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Olivia replies, already putting her phone back. “Also, nice try but I know you heard me. You might think you’re not looking for someone like her but I know you, Cat. I’ve known you for a long time and despite the fact we didn’t talk for many years, I can still read you pretty well.”

Olivia stands up and grabs her glass, finishing it bottoms up. She then moves to retrieve her jacket, pulling it on and adjusting it before turning back to face Cat.

“Call her, Cat,” Olivia says, flattening the lapels of her jacket. “Do something, otherwise you’ll live with “what if” and “maybe” and I remember how you hate it. Be a big girl and follow your own advice : in order to survive, we must keep daring …”

“Diving,” Cat corrects, despite the fact she did use the word daring as well.

“I mean, that too but what you do in bed is your business,” Olivia smirks and Cat gasps before laughing out loud.

She didn’t see this coming but then again, Olivia Marsden had always been full of surprises, from the pot brownies she used to cook in college to the fact she was an alien.

“Seriously though, give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?” Olivia asks, the malicious gleam in her eyes having been replaced with something far more serious.

Cat doesn’t answer the question and Olivia seems to know that this time, she shouldn’t insist.

“Anyway, I have to go Cat,” Olivia says, already walking toward the entrance door. Cat stands up and follows after her friend to make sure the bodyguards at her door will safely take her back to the car.

“I will see you tomorrow at the office, probably first thing in the morning since Russell asked for a meeting about you going through so many assistants in so little time …”

“Eh, let him barks, it’ll keep him busy while I find someone myself,” Cat chuckles, moving to drop a kiss on her friend’s cheek.

“Call her,” Olivia says again before exiting the loft, the door closing behind her after those last words.

---

“I hear you’re having trouble finding a decent assistant these days …”

Cat smiles around the rim of her glass and looks up to the night sky.

Supergirl’s floating a few inches up, her cape fluttering softly in the quietness of the night and her golden hair flowing freely around her delicate and otherworldly features. The moon at her back gives her silhouette a pale, silver glow that truly makes her look like a goddess from another universe, a mythical creature.

“Good evening, Supergirl,” Cat greets her, raising her glass in a mock-toast. “Care to explain why you conveniently show up on my balcony minutes after I sent a text to my former assistant?”

Supergirl floats down a few inches, half of her body disappearing behind the ledge of Cat’s balcony until their eyes are approximately at the same level. The light that spills out from Cat’s bedroom enlights Kara’s small smile and makes her eyes shine ever so dimly.

“I could spring some lie on you, say that Kara told me that you texted and that it made me want to check on you myself but what would be the point?” Kara asks, her voice soft and quiet but still clear, carrying into the night. “We both know you were never fooled, not even that time you saw Supergirl and Kara Danvers at the same time in your office.”

“To be fair, I never truly understood how you managed such an exploit,” Cat nods and takes another sip of her drink. “Anyway, no you never fooled me. How could you, with the way you were always darting out of the room with the flimsiest excuse, every of those times coincidentally happening whenever Supergirl’s presence was required? It’s like you forgot that I am a journalist, before and above anything else.”

For a moment, Supergirl looks almost outraged, but then she laughs and the sound echoes into the night like a sweet melody.

“That’s fair, I was never good at lying, despite the whole other identity situation …”

“Would you tell me?” Cat asks, searching into Kara’s eyes. “You real identity, I mean …”

Kara looks a little hesitant for a few seconds but then, she flies up and closer.

Her boots softly land on the balcony floor, and she stands up in front of Cat, a hand resting on the symbol on her chest.

“My name is Kara Zor-El,” Kara says, reverence lining her voice.

Cat notices the way Supergirl stands, tall and proud, with her chin up and steel in her jaw. She’s royalty, framed by the stars twinkling behind her golden mane and the moon hanging high above her head.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to finally tell you, but I wanted to protect you, back then.”

Cat doesn’t say anything.

She’s been abducted by the Silver Banshee and Leslie Willis once, so she knows the risk of being tied to Supergirl. She can understand why Kara never told her about her alter-ego. It still stings a little but she understands anyway.

“Why now?” Cat eventually asks, looking up to meet Kara’s eyes.

Kara seems to hesitate for a moment, suddenly looking thoughtful and distant at once.

“Someone very dear to me once told me to put on my big-girl pants and to own up to my power …” Kara eventually whispers. “I think it’s time I finally followed that advice but that’s not all. See … my sister also got good advice from someone dear to her. Someone who told her that life is short, and she should kiss the people she wants to kiss.”

Cat’s heart misses a beat when Kara takes a step forward. The smell of wind and flowers overload her senses, and she almost forgets to breathe, drowning in Kara’s presence.

“That’s … good advice indeed,” Cat whispers, getting lost in the baby blue of Kara’s eyes.

“I thought so,” Kara smiles and then adds “I really, really, really want to kiss you now, Miss Grant.”

Cat can feel her heart go wild in her chest, beating frantically against her rib cage, drumming in her ears and pulsing in her temples. She’s been hoping for this moment for so long she can’t wrap her head around the fact it’s about to happen.

“Then … what are you waiting for, Kara?” Cat whispers, slowly enunciating the right name.

It’s all it takes.

The kiss is mind-blowing, full of all the pent-up frustration they’ve been suffering through for years. It’s deep and a little blunt, with Kara’s playful tongue exploring the inside of Cat’s mouth and hands roaming along the flexed muscles stretched underneath the superhero suit. It lasts and lasts and at some point, Cat eventually feels the need to come back up for some air.

She pulls away, one hand tangled in Kara’s hair and the other clutched around the rim of Kara’s cape. Their breath come out ragged and irregular but Kara’s smile is blinding, full of joy and hope.

“Damn,” Cat whispers, a little dazzled.

“Speechless is a good look on you, Miss Grant,” Kara teases, dropping a kiss at the corner of Cat’s lips.

“Cat. Please, call me Cat,” Cat says, looking up into Kara’s eyes. “Beside, don’t get too smug, it will take a lot more than just a kiss to render me unable to speak.”

“Is that a challenge, Cat?” Kara asks, tilting her head to the side as interest sparkles in her eyes. The way she pronounces Cat’s name sounds like a secret and a promise at once, it makes Cat tingle.

“Only one way to find out,” Cat offers, stepping backward to her bedroom.

She lets a hand slide along Kara’s arm, until it reaches her hand. Their fingers instinctively intertwine and Kara instantly follows, her smile full of wonder and her eyes as bright as the thousand stars shining in the sky behind her.

#Sentences prompt #Supercat #Kara x Cat #My writing #Five words prompt #Supercat fic #Cat just have high standards only Kara can meet okay #I don't make the rules #Olivia is the MVP #I just love Olivia and Cat's friendship

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chikkou · 4 years

Note

I'd ask this on your Lisa sideblog but you don't have anon on and I'm shy lol, but do you have any headcanons relating to Lisa the First? Like Lisa's views on religion, her relationship with her mother, if any of the various worlds we see mean anything?

hoh man i didnt even know anon wasnt on LMAO... ill turn it on after i post this!

also fuck YEAH i do holy shit i fucking LOVE lisa the first!! i know its sort of the black sheep of the lisa series, since it is a completely different type of game and was clearly austins first game, but i fucking ADORE it dude. the music - which he made ENTIRELY IN THE FREE TRIAL OF FL STUDIO BY THE WAY - is FANTASTIC, the art direction is actually pretty fucking incredible for an rpgmaker game that uses a good deal of basic assets, and the gameplay.... ok yeah that part is a bit lacking but its a yume nikki-style game be nice it was his first time LMAO

ANYWAY back to ur question. first and foremost, i think this is not even a headcanon so much as straight up canon, but lisa DESPISES christianity. marty is christian, probably catholic given the golden crosses everywhere, and he is a fucking scumbag hypocrite. lisa likely associates all of christianity with this line of thinking, as there is one room in the bile area where the melted martys (although i suppose we can just call them joy mutants now LMAO) simply stand in a circle surrounding one big cross. the role of the melted martys is up for interpretation of course, as is everything, but after playing the painful and seeing them described as “mindless sheep,” i think this is how lisa viewed them. so they likely represent other people that, to lisa, are probably just as sick and disgusting as marty

lisas relationship with her mother... i go back and forth on this one a lot. i can never decide if i prefer the headcanon that lisas mom died in childbirth, and so lisa never met her, or if i prefer that lisas mom was around for a very short time and then either left or died. the fact that she says “i didnt want to leave” at the end of the first leads me to believe that she most likely died. in either case, the memory of her mother was clearly important to lisa, as she wears her pendant through the entire game and its explicitly noted as being a gift from her. in either case, i think that the death/absence of the mother is heavily implied to be the primary cause behind martys descent into alcoholism and lisas abuse, since the white room strongly implies that marty did at one time sincerely love and care for her as a father properly should

as for the meaning of each of the rooms, i think most of them are fairly self explanatory, but some of them are a bit more vague, so ill break it down in terms of how i see it (and ill put them under the cut because its long as hell):

martys house - this is the most literal one. pretty self-explanatory. the dark, yet vibrant colors and the ear-bleedingly loud tv are pure sensory overload, something lisa probably deals with on a regular basis. when lisa goes outside and it turns into a sky of marty faces, i think this is the transition into the psychological part of the game

the lobby - this is honestly just pure yume nikki ripoff LMAO... but if i had to ascribe a symbolic meaning to it, i think its probably a quiet and safe area for lisa to retreat to in her mind when she needs it, but even that eventually gets sullied as tricky rick makes his way there, too (and tells her hes “just waiting” when she talks to him). the majority of gameplay is lisa searching for items with which to kill tricky rick, who always abuses and disparages her whenever she talks to him, telling her she’ll never forget. as for the reason why... well, take one look at him and its pretty clear whats going on there. (the name is also a reference to richard nixon, whose nickname was... well, you can figure it out!)

the town - the bar area is 100% my favorite from this world; lisa clearly hates alcohol and anyone who drinks it, associating them all with marty, and that music... all i can say is YUCK. the entire section also consists of lisa having to give up something in exchange for what she needs to move on, and usually getting the raw end of the deal out of it (she gives one marty a banana, he gives her a banana peel in return). she does all that while avoiding a marty following her outside who repeatedly tells her “you cant escape,” and upon reaching tricky rick (who is atop a narrow, columnar, PINK mountain), it becomes pretty clear whats happening to her.

the sea room - fucking marty spiders man. im assuming they represent the sickly feeling of crawling skin she gets when she looks at him or is anywhere near him, but holy GOD they are annoying to deal with. she kills tricky rick with pills here - we dont know what kind of pills these are, but i interpret them as sleeping pills, and given the rumbling music and the rapid cycling marty background, i wonder if he forced her to take these. marty is everywhere here, but the only one she can speak to is seen chilling on a raft of some kind. marty likely spent much of his time recreationally, i.e. drinking, so it makes sense why this would be here

the rope room - theres no symbolism here this is just pure comedy (LMAO). if i HAD to assign some meaning to this area, it would be that lisa likely is so despondent at this point that putting in effort to do anything feels utterly pointless, much like climbing this long-ass rope was

the white room - as i mentioned earlier, i personally believe that this area depicts the previous relationship between marty and lisa (and also has one of my favorite songs in the game). he is shown doing traditional fatherly things - he is no longer wearing sunglasses and is wearing a suit, meaning he was likely employed, and is actually smiling. he also spends time with her in a completely platonic, familial way. when she interacts with him, there is a little heart over his head. after lisa walks through the golden statues (which will reappear later), the entire world becomes filled with bile, and martys appearance returns to that of the other martys, but with an extremely warped, grotesque face. the item she needs in this area to kill tricky rick is found between two golden crosses.

notice that all of the items she kills tricky rick with - a razor, pills, and now a plastic bag - are things that a child could plausibly get their hands on; none of them are explicitly weapons. i think this shows both her age and how often she must have considered using those things against him.

the bile room - probably my favorite area in the game, and also features what i consider the quintessential lisa song. this area really drives home lisas disgust with marty and with christianity as a whole - it almost certainly has the highest concentration of crosses, and it is also quite literally covered in wall-to-wall bile, dirty water, and disgusting houses. a lot of the most graphic sights, like the melting martys and the pond martys (no idea what to call them LMAO) are here, so i think this is pretty much the lowest circle of hell for lisa. marty gives lisa a freshly cut finger in exchange for a napkin here; im not necessarily sure what that represents, but i think the napkin was used by marty to masturbate (as he says “i needed that” after he takes it), so perhaps the finger is martys?

lisa kills tricky rick here in a cave that is not-so-subtly shaped like a penis, and gets a vhs tape in which he pretty explicitly states what is going on in the game; he even pretends like he doesnt know who lisa is at first, which somehow makes it even more disgusting. the fact that vhs tapes play a role here sort of makes me wonder if marty really WAS filming some of what he was doing, and given that lisa the joyful confirms that brad was forced to somehow participate in lisas abuse, that is.... horrific to think about, honestly

the marty tape - this tape just has the player (as marty) walk up to lisa and suited marty, who are having a tea party with a plastic tea set. they both get hearts over their heads if you talk to them. i think this drives home that he and lisa did once have a normal relationship, and perhaps theres some part of marty who misses that? theres a LOT of ways you can interpret this; having the player become marty really calls a lot into question.

the mansion - the room leading here has a marty staring directly at the player who informs lisa that she needs a sword to progress. unsubtly, the sword must be placed into the crotch of a womans statue. the mansion inside is beautiful and ornate, and easily the most gorgeous area in the game - and it all leads to what appears to be a proto-joy mutant marty, sort of looking like jabba the hutt. i dont doubt that this is intentional, given that jabba the hutt is associated with slave leia, and its not at all a far leap to call lisa martys slave. the golden statues of women, as well as many golden crosses, are everywhere in this area. its actually quite a large space with a lot of thought put into it, so im really upset that i cant figure out more of what it represents LMAO

the final area - lisa seems to go back to her actual house, but upon leaving her room and entering whether the living room would be, the whole area changes. she encounters herself in a blood red room, but when she talks to the other lisa, she turns into marty. i think this represents a clear question - who is lisa without him? IS she anyone? or is she just a vessel for him to do with what he pleases? she encounters a naked marty telling her to give up shortly after, and flees from him, but is followed by voices repeatedly telling her that she must accept her fate. i think this clearly show the mental state of lisas last days. she was tormented, eternally. she truly felt there was no escape from marty. even the background becomes nothing but martys face, over and over again, as the end screen flashes.

at the end text, she finds a video tape, and in the tape sees someone who is ostensibly her mother from behind. she apologizes for not being there for her, but when that figure turns out, its martys face that she sees. the sky turns into marty. the music becomes corrupted and overrun with pretty fucked up laughter. she tries to run, but marty is already everywhere. theres nowhere for her to run. and then the game is over.

note that the video tape comes AFTER the games end screen, which stops not long after the appearance of the naked marty. so i personally believe that the “game over” represents her deciding to take her own life, rather than just give up and accept her fate. by running from him into the blackness, she got away from marty the only way she could have. it is sad and horrible, but that is honestly the best ending that she could have gotten in this game.

the first is definitely not as good as the painful in terms of gameplay, that much i can agree on, but i really think people miss out on a lot by not playing it. i think its really crucial to see lisas life from her own perspective before you can see it from brads - after all, brad may have known more than anyone else about what was going on, but he did not experience it like lisa did. for brad, lisa is a symbol of his own regrets and failures, but lisa was a PERSON (well, in-universe anyway LMAO). she suffered on her own, with pretty much no one to help her, and then she suffered so much that she couldnt take another second of it.

#anya's anons #long post #lisa the first #ok NOW im gonna open my anons on my sideblog LMAO #i got wayyyy too into this #and i had to put it under the cut bc its really hard to not be graphic about the first given the subject matter #rape mention #abuse mention #lisa

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch 8- Adler Vs Adler

Chapter Summary: The gloves are off in court as mother and son go head to head.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Talk of suicide.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Contains SPOILERS for the film!!!!! If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. Also, those of you who do know this film well will see that I’ve changed the dates referenced in the court case, that’s because I brought the timeline of Gifted forward from 2015 (when it was filmed) to 2017 (when it was released). This was mainly to suit Fliss’ backstory of the Olympics. 2015 is too close to 2012 for me to make it work. Also Frank’s middle name is an absolute H/C too as I couldn’t find it anywhere so, sorry if this annoys any of you but, to quote @icanfeelastormbrewing- “my coffee, my fic, my rules…”

This chapter is a mix of Fliss and Frank’s POV…hope you all enjoy it. As always I’m a ho for a REBLOG and COMMENT!

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter Song: Stand By You- Rachel Platten

And love, if your wings are broken, borrow mine so yours can open too…’cause I’m gonna stand by you

The first bit of evidence the next morning was the findings of the Welfare Department’s investigation. It had thrown nothing out of the ordinary up. The house was clean enough, Mary was fed…but they did point out that it wouldn’t be suitable for much longer as Mary would need her own room as she grew older, something which Frank’s attorney accepted on behalf of Frank, stating to the court that Frank had already considered this. Which in fairness he had. The Welfare Department continued then, stating that Mary’s interview the previous day hadn’t thrown up anything of concern, even if there were some questionable TV viewing habits, namely Ultimate Fighting but they were satisfied that overall Mary suffering no ill effects, mentally or physically from being with Frank.

This took them just under an hour, as they were factual reports. Both Attorneys requested clarification points but there were no questions or cross examinations. As such they had concluded just after 11 am and there was then a small 10 minute break to allow a quick consultation between clients and lawyers before Evelyn was to take to the stand. As people moved around, passing papers and files to one another, Frank turned in his seat and just as he glanced round, someone left the courtroom and through the open door Fliss walked in, dressed in a smart pair of black jeans and a light blue strappy top. He flashed her a smile and she gave a small wave, settling onto a seat next to Roberta who gave her a hug. She’d missed the early session due to having to sort the horses out but she’d cleared her diary and brought in cover for the rest of the day.

Frank turned back to Greg who was watching him, eyebrow raised.

“Well that was a mighty big smile Frank…”

“Yeah, well just spotted some back up, that’s all.” Greg turned to see the woman who was now talking to Roberta and he grinned, spinning back to Frank “Let me guess, Fliss?”

Frank nodded “Yeah, I’ll introduce you later.”

Greg nodded “I look forward to it. Anyway, back to business, that opening report from the Welfare Department was good, well as good as it’s gonna get. But man, Ultimate Fighting?”

“It’s harmless…” Frank shrugged

Greg shook his head “Whatever. This next bit ain’t gonna be as easy.” “No shit…” Frank mumbled, looking at his mother as she said something to Highsmith, her attorney. “She’s going to rip me to pieces, and no doubt enjoy doing it too.” “Yep.” Greg nodded “But, keep doing what you’re doing. No outbursts, stay quiet, focussed, listen. And if she says anything that isn’t accurate, or you think of anything we can use, note it down and I’ll use it in my cross examination, ok?” Frank nodded as Judge Nicholls banged his gavel down an issued instructions for everyone to reconvene. He called Evelyn to the stand where she was sworn in and Highsmith stood up and began firing questions at her, a well-practiced dance, Frank could tell.

From the gallery Fliss watched intently. She’d been late due to having to open up at the yard but had rushed home, changed and got here as soon as she could. As such she had missed the first session but Roberta had hastily filled her in, telling her it had gone well. She shot Frank another encouraging smile, just as the judge called them back to order, and couldn’t help but notice how good that man looked in his grey suit, light grey shirt and maroon and white speckled tie. He certainly looked the part.

Evelyn took to the stand and Fliss felt herself bristling as she utterly character assassinated Frank, depicting him as nothing more than an irresponsible bum, floating around with no purpose to life, who didn’t care about Mary’s welfare, preferring to simply fly by the seat of his pants instead of giving her any decent roots or thoughts to her needs. At one point, they started to question his motivations towards taking Mary being more about punishing Evelyn that actually caring about the girl. To this Frank’s attorney objected and as the two attorneys began to argue, Fliss found her nails cutting into her palms as she clenched her fists. Roberta gently reached out and squeezed her arm and she turned to the woman next to her and gave her a tight smile.

“Frank’s attorney, Greg Cullen, well he’s good…” she whispered, “He’ll go at her when he gets his chance…you’ll see.”

The objection was overruled, the judge telling Cullen he would get his chance to challenge that statement in his cross examination, and Cullen sat down, leaning over to whisper something to Frank who nodded, his eyes not once leaving his mother. Cullen jotted something down and then sat back to allow Evelyn to finish speaking.

By the time she finished it was almost midday so they broke for lunch, Judge Nicholls instructing everyone to be back in an hour. Fliss and Roberta headed outside to wait for Frank who met them shortly after.

“Hey…” Fliss said, giving him a gentle hug. “How you holding up?”

“About as well as I can for someone whose own other just tore them to shreds under oath.” Fliss’ eyes narrowed “I hope your guy is gonna give as good as she did…” “I’ll do my best.” A voice said. Fliss spun round to be greeted by Frank’s attorney.

“Fliss, this is Greg Cullen, Greg this is Fliss Gallagher.” Frank introduced them to one another. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Greg smiled at her, shaking her hand. Fliss looked up at Frank and was surprised to find a faint flush of red on his cheeks.

“All good I hope?” she grimaced and Cullen nodded.

“Oh…very good indeed. I’ve been dying to meet the woman who’s made such an impression on him…” “Greg, piss off.” Frank said in a tired voice, before he nodded over the road to the café “Shall we grab some lunch?”

They ate together, made small talk, before Greg requested Frank join him alone for 15 minutes to go over the rest of the afternoon. Frank stood, and without even thinking about it gave Fliss a quick peck on the cheek. He winced as soon as he had, noticing that Cullen and Roberta were watching him and knowing Fliss was going to get an absolute drilling from Roberta he shot her an apologetic look as he walked away. She simply smiled through her blush and shook her head, turning to Roberta who nudged her arm.

“Ok, so…what was that?” Greg asked as they walked back over the road.

“It’s complicate.” Frank sighed “we both…we like each other but with everything that’s going on we’re…well I suppose we’re taking it slow. I’m focussing on getting through whatever it is that happens with Mary and then hopefully…what?” he trailed off as Greg was smirking at him.

“Frank Adler. Finally found a girl he likes that much he ain’t simply trying to get her into bed…”

Frank rolled his eyes and pointed to the courtroom “How about you concentrate on what’s gonna go on in there instead of what is or isn’t going on in my bedroom?”

Greg gave out a chuckle and patted his friend on the shoulder as they made their way in and headed into the side room they had reserved.

****

“Mrs. Adler, in your earlier testimony here today… you painted a pretty dim picture of your own son don’t you think?” Cullen asked, tapping his pen on his note pad. Frank remained stony faced, watching his mother.

“I’m under oath, I take no pleasure in it.” she said with a glance at Frank before she looked down, almost convincingly.

Frank just about managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“So, your son is a failure in life, your daughter took her life…you know, you’re oh for two.”

Fliss winced and glanced at Roberta as Highsmith said “Objection” in an almost bored voice

“Withdrawn.” Cullen said, his voice taking on an amused edge but as Fliss watched Evelyn simply eyed him, completely un-phased.

“If I go one for three, I’m in the Hall of Fame.” she shot back.

“You know baseball.” Cullen said, pushing his chair back “Fenway Park.”

At that something flickered in Evelyn’s eye as she glanced at Frank. Fliss followed her gaze and watched, just able to see the side of Frank’s face. His eyes locked onto her, his expression never faltering.

“You know, I’d like to go there sometime.” Cullen said standing up, pushing his glasses up onto his head as Evelyn turned back to him “How often in a year did you take Diane to the baseball game?”

“Diane wasn’t interested in sports.” Evelyn replied

“She never wanted to go to a game? Ever?”

“I don’t recall her ever asking.”

Cullen moved forwards a step and Fliss saw Frank’s eyes flick to him as he continued to question his mother.

“Just out of curiosity, Fenway, that’s a tough ticket. Where do you get yours?”

“My husband has season tickets.”

“And how long has he had them?” Cullen enquired

“30 years. But I’ve only been married to him for 20.” Evelyn informed him.

“And Diane never went to one game?”

Evelyn didn’t reply, simply raised her eyebrows slightly as if she was failing to see the point. Fliss’ eyes once again flicked to Frank who still hadn’t moved an inch.

“What colour was the dress Diane wore to prom?” Cullen changed his line of questions.

“Diane didn’t attend the prom, because she didn’t attend the high school.” Evelyn replied calmly

“No prom.” Cullen mused before he asked suddenly “What sports did she play?”

“As I told you earlier, she wasn’t interested in sports.”

“She’s calm…” Roberta whispered to Fliss as Cullen continued to question Evelyn about Diane’s lack of interaction with other children her age

“Too calm…” Fliss said “But I can see what he’s doing, trying to paint a picture of how she isolated Diane to imply that she’d do the same to Mary. You’re right, he is good…”

As they tuned back into the examination again, Cullen took a deep breath and glanced to his left

“Mrs. Adler, he said, looking back at her who’s Paul Riva?”

At that Evelyn glanced at Frank, her calm mask slipped ever so slightly but still Frank didn’t move. Fliss could see his expression now carried a faint, and every so sad, smile.

Evelyn gave a silent huff before she looked back at Cullen “He was a boy from the neighbourhood.”

Her tone was clipped and Fliss noticed the judge sit forward slightly at her change in tone, narrowing his eyes a little as he watched her curiously

“Oh, come on. He was much more than just a boy from the neighbourhood. Paul was Diane’s first love. Wasn’t he?” Cullen asked.

Fliss and Roberta exchanged a glance.

“I wouldn’t characterize it that way, no.” Evelyn shook her head.

“And how would Diane characterize it?”

“Diane was 17 years old at the time. She didn’t know anything about love.”

At that Fliss caught the first movement Frank had made as he took a deep breath and looked to his left before turning back, his shoulders moving slightly in frustration as he shook his head slightly, his eyes locking back onto his mother who was carefully avoiding his gaze.

“Mrs. Adler… in January 2000 didn’t Diane and young Mr. Riva run away together?” Cullen looked at her.

“He coerced her” Evelyn corrected with the air of someone picking her words carefully.

“And where did they go?”

“Vermont.”

“And you called the police, didn’t you?” Cullen stated rather than asked.

“Yes.”

“Because he kidnapped her?”

“Yes”

“And where did the police find young Mr. Riva and Diane?” Cullen looked at Evelyn

“I told you, Vermont.” Evelyn looked at Cullen, her voice suddenly taking on an edge which made Fliss lean forward slightly.

“Stowe, Vermont. Wasn’t it? A resort town.” Cullen said, looking round the court room as Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. “Stowe Mountain. He took her skiing. You see, kidnappers don’t usually take their victims skiing.” Cullen paused from his explanation, when he spoke again his voice was calm, and slow, stressing the point perfectly “But this is what Paul did because he and Diane were in love.”

“No” Evelyn said firmly

“And when they returned, you pressed kidnapping charges.” Cullen’s voice rose in volume and speed as he spoke “You filed a lawsuit against his parents…until Paul stopped calling Diane. Didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And Diane never heard of or saw Paul Riva again. Did she?” Cullen’s tone was harsh, accusatory as he stared at Evelyn.

“Poor girl…” Roberta mumbled besides her and Fliss shook her head, in utter shock at how a mother could be so damned cruel and out of touch with her own daughter. It made her feel a pang of sympathy for Mary’s mother despite never having known her. Fliss couldn’t imagine what she would do without either of her parents being as supportive as they were.

Evelyn must have answered as by the time Fliss turned her attention fully to what she was saying, Cullen had asked another question.

“And how did she take it?”

“She was upset for a while. She lost focus.”

“She lost focus” Cullen said, turning back to the desk and picking up a small file “Mrs. Adler,” he turned back, file in hand “…in March of 2001 didn’t Diane Adler attempt to take her own life?”

“This episode was minor. It was nothing.” Evelyn said, her tone harsh.

“Nothing?” Fliss drew in a breath, shaking her head. For a moment she almost lost herself in another memory, of one rainy afternoon in Boston in October 2015…but she took a deep breath and focussed on where she was, as Cullen flashed the file at Evelyn.

“I have the hospital report in my hand.” he informed her

“It was nothing.” Evelyn said again, and now Fliss could see she was rattled. “Diane was not like regular people. She was extraordinary. And extraordinary people come with singular issues and needs.”

Fliss watched as Evelyn leant forward, her face creased in anger as hissed “You have no idea of the capability she possessed. One in a billion. And you would say fine, let’s throw that away, so the boy who cuts our yard can make sexual conquest? Well maybe before you make that decision, you stand in my shoes .I had responsibilities, which went beyond the mother-daughter relationship.”

She took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice louder this time “The greatest discoveries, which have proved life on this planet have come from minds rarer than radium. Without them, we’d still be crawling in mud. And for your information, counsellor, a year after this incident with this boy Diane thanked me for my intervention. She realized she’d made a mistake and she thanked me. You see, Diane understood. She’s was accountable for the gift she’d been given. And she didn’t shy from it.”

Every inch of Evelyn’s face was contorted with a mixture of pain and anger, and she radiated absolute fury across the courtroom as her rant built to its climax

“And I think, if she were here today, Mr. Attorney, she would refute your baseless insinuations, that she would give up her brilliant future and take her own life just because mummy didn’t get her a little red wagon

There was a pause as she took a breath and sat back.

“No more questions.” Cullen said simply, turning back to his seat.

Fliss watched Frank who shifted, rubbing his chin with his left hand, his fingers curling round his jaw in an L shape as he stared at this mother.

***** When Mary returned home on the bus, Frank did his best to remain positive and keep his broodings to himself, and was thankful when Fliss suggested they head out for dinner. The four of them headed to the same restaurant he had met his mother at not long before. He ate, not really tasting his food, or listening as Fliss and Roberta chatted away. Instead his attention was completely on Mary who was stood with one of the waitresses at another table, where Mary was pouring sand out of one of the bottles that was used to keep the tablecloths from blowing away. The thought that she could be without such simple pleasure of looking through sand for shells, and lost to a world pressure and solitude like Diane had been killed him.

“Hey…” he felt someone squeeze his hand at the same time Mary held up a shell and showed it to him. He took a deep breath and tried to rearrange his face into a smile as his fingers tightened around Fliss’s.

“You know until I met you I thought sitting on steps drinking beer was something only red necked hillbillies did.” Fliss teased him when they were alone later that evening, Mary asleep inside the apartment as they sat outside the kitchen door, shoulder to shoulder along the top rung.

“Well, according to my mother that’s what I am.” he scoffed.

“And according to me your mother is a callous, cold hearted bitch.” Fliss said, with such venom it made Frank look at her. She took a deep breath, her voice softening “How can anyone dismiss a suicide attempt as nothing.”

Frank looked away, taking a pull from his beer. They sat in silence for a moment before Fliss broke it.

“You know back in 2015, about 18 months after we’d gotten married…I almost did it you know? Killed myself.”

Frank’s head turned to face her. She wasn’t looking at him, instead she remained focussed on a spot in the distance as she looked straight ahead. “My life was out of my control, and it was the only way I could think of getting some of that control back. So I took a shit load of buproprion and washed it down with half a litre of vodka.”

“Shit, Lissy I…” She waved his sympathy off and continued “After that I was offered all this help and support and…” she snorted bitterly “I still went back to him. He convinced everyone, including me that the issue was the fact that I was still brooding over my career being cut so short…and then told me that having a kid would fix the issue. In reality there was no issue to fix. I wasn’t depressed as such, I was abused. And that was simply another way of him taking control”

After a moment she turned to look at him, “And I’m not saying your mother abused Diane, not as such but she isolated her for her own, selfish reasons…no matter how she tries to dress them up or convince herself that it was for Diane’s own good. That first suicide attempt your sister would have made a normal, loving parent sit up and pay attention to what was going on. I know it did mine, as Bill never trusted John’s explanation, not one word.” “I should have done more too.” Frank said, looking down “But I was so busy, wrapped up in my finals and…”

“Frank, you were what? 20 and preparing for finals at Harvard.” Fliss frowned “Diane wasn’t your responsibility, you’re not her parent.”

“No but when Dad died, I promised I’d take care of her, always be there for her. I should have done more, and I should have known…when she turned up that day…”

“Frankie…” Fliss cut him off, her hand taking his “Take it from me, my mum and dad and brother went through all of this in their head. Did Diane give you any warnings at all because I know I didn’t? Look at the lies and the world of fantasy I let John build up round me and detract from what was going on. I told nobody I was gonna do it Frank. And I told no body why I did it either.”

Frank sniffed and wiped at his nose slightly with his free hand.

“So you can either carry on beating yourself up over something that isn’t your fault or you can concentrate on getting the best outcome here for Mary.”

He reached for his beer which was on the step below him between his legs and nodded. She was right, he knew she was, but there would always be that part of him that wondered if he could have done more, it he should have done more.

“Are you planning on coming tomorrow?” he asked, looking at Fliss.

“Yeah, Joanne is covering again.”

“I don’t want to put you out…” he began but she shook her head.

“It’s sorted.” Fliss smiled. “She wants the week of Thanksgiving off so she’s racking up the favours.”

“Well, from a selfish reason I’m glad.” he said, flexing his fingers against hers, looking down at where they were entwined.

“I’m not missing your testimony, if only for the sole reason of discovering what your full name is.” she teased. Frank gave a huff of a laugh “Francis Preston Adler, nice to meet you.” he tipped his bottle in her direction. “Preston?” She snorted “Get out of town! There’s a place in England called Preston, it’s like 30 miles away from my home!”

Frank smiled, before he sighed.

“Last day tomorrow isn’t it?” Fliss looked at him as he stared straight ahead.

He let out a breath “Yeah, well last day of evidence…then we have to wait for however long it takes him to read all the reports and make a ruling.”

“Well then, I suggest you get some sleep, or as much as you can.” she said, and with that she released his hand and stood up. Frank did the same and he smiled as she leaned up and he ducked his head so she could kiss his cheek. “Oh, and FYI I got an absolute interrogation off Roberta before when you did that. Felt like it was me in the dock, not Evelyn.” For the first time all evening Frank laughed.

******

The gloomy, rainy morning matched Frank’s mood perfectly.

He sat in the dock dressed in his suit this time paired with a light green shirt and a dark blue and silver tie, feeling as out of place as anyone could. Cullen went through the questions he had coached Frank on, questions designed not to paint him as a saint but as a normal person, doing the best he could for his niece in line with his sister’s wishes. Frank answered them honestly. Was he perfect? No. Had he done things correctly? No. Did he wish he had spotted Diane was struggling? Yes. Did he love Mary and want the best for her? Yes.

The questions continued along those lines until they broke for lunch. And then came the cross examination, and Frank knew he was in for a beating.

“Mr. Adler where are you currently employed?” Highsmith asked sitting on the desk to the left of Evelyn.

“I repair boats.” Frank answered clearly

“Oh, really? At which marina?”

“I don’t work at a marina. I freelance.”

“So, safe to say, no health insurance.”

“No.” Frank shook his head

“About a week before your sister took her life what were you doing for a living then?”

“I was a teacher.” Frank replied.

“You’re being modest, aren’t you?” Highsmith said, standing up and walking towards the dock “You were a professor at Boston University Isn’t that right?

“Yes, well, assistant professor.”

“And what’d you teach?”

“Philosophy.” Frank said, looking at him

“Truth and logic. That sort of thing” Highsmith gestured with his hands and Frank simply smile as he continued “Your attorney said that the primary reason that you took Mary is because it was what your sister would’ve wanted you to do. Is that a truth?”

“Yes.” Frank implored

“So Diane had visited Pinellas County before?”

“No” frank said with almost an air of amusement on his face as he looked at his mother for a second before he looked down and joined his hands in front of him in his lap.

“She indicated she wanted her daughter rooted and moved here?

Frank shook his head, closing his eyes “No”

“No.” Highsmith repeated “So you decided to bring Mary here, didn’t you?”

Frank licked his lips and drew in a deep breath as he simply stared as his mother. He was pleased so see her shift in her seat

“Did Diane had a problem with your health plan at Boston University?” Highsmith pressed.

Frank wanted to laugh. The guy was doing exactly what Greg had warned him he would do, attack his lack of healthcare, insinuate he wasn’t able or fit to provide for Mary. When he spoke his voice was calm, and he fought to keep his face as amicable as possible.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Do you think she would want her daughter to have access to healthcare?”

Dumbass question

“Of course.” Frank nodded.

“So what do you do, when little Mary gets sick? You repair a doctor’s boat?”

Frank scoffed a laugh as Cullen objected.

“Sustained.” Judge Nicholls shot Highsmith a look and Frank stole a glance at Fliss. If the situation wasn’t so serious he would have laughed at the identical look she wore to Roberta, both glaring at Highsmith like they wanted to kill him. Which, to be fair, the probably did want…

The questions continued. He was asked why he turned down the scholarship at the Oaks in favour of learning at a first grade level, a level way below that she was capable of. The rain continued to drive down as did Highsmith’s questions, as they were punctuated every so often by a low rumble of thunder from the outside storm.

“Prior to Mrs. Adler giving her one. Did Mary have a computer?”

“She used mine.”

“Mr. Adler, does Diane’s daughter have her own bedroom?”

“No.”

“Does she sleep in a bed that you bought in a second hand shop?”

“Yes” Frank looked ahead, focussing on keeping calm as Highsmith walked towards the dock, gesturing now with his hands, his tone winding up

“So, the truth is, Mr. Adler that you didn’t come down here because your sister wanted it to and you certainly didn’t come here because it was good for Mary.”

Frank swallowed slightly and shifted a little, avoiding looking at the man as he tapped his hand on the side of the dock.

“No, it was personal. Diane was a star. You weren’t. Diane got the attention. You didn’t.”

Frank scoffed silently, oh please, and turned to look in the opposite direction.

“..and over the years You got angry. And here comes Mary. What a great way to get even.

At that he audibly sighed. He had known this was coming, that his mother’s attorney would try and paint him as petty and vindictive but it still hurt to hear it. Hurt that his own mother would have someone attack him in such a way. He’d defend Mary to the hilt someone was doing this to her…

“You’ve uprooted that little girl and brought her here for 1 reason only. To do harm to your mother. You blamed her for your sister.”

“No, I don't” Frank broke his silence.

“And Mary to you is just a pawn in all this.”

And that did it, Mary wasn’t a pawn. She was a little girl, a little girl who he was doing is best by.

“Diane wanted Mary… to be a kid” Frank’s voice betrayed his desperation and emotion, and he knew that…but now he was past caring, this was the truth, it was how he felt, and he was nothing if not honest. He locked eyes with his mother as he spoke, driving his words home “.She wanted her to have a life. She wanted her to have friends and to play…”

At that his mother looked away, her eyes glistening but Frank kept his on hers as she turned back to him, his final words were almost whispered

“…and to be happy.”

“You realize the consequences of boredom for a gifted child, Mr. Adler? They become resentful and sullen.”

“Mary’s not an angry kid.” Frank said, his voice calm once more.

“Really? Did she not attack a child on the school bus?”

Shit.

“A 12 year old tripped a 7 year old and she came to his defense.” Frank said, shrugging slightly

“Did she break the boy’s nose?”

“Yes.” Frank said, a little louder as he nodded.

“On October 16th last year, were you arrested for assault?”

“Oh, my God.” Frank groaned, and he looked down before he glanced back up, momentarily locked eyes with Fliss who he noticed had taken a deep breath. He looked back down, shaking his head

“You have to answer the question Mr. Adler.” Judge Nicholls reminded him

Frank swallowed and focussed on a spot on the varnished surface of the wood in font of him, just by the microphone. “A drunk idiot attacked me and I defended myself. What does that have to do…”

“Did you spend the night in jail?” Highsmith cut him off.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded.

“You are in way over your head here. You’re depriving that girl…”

Frank stayed still, shaking his head and glaring at his mother, all the while Highsmith continued ranting on at him

“…you’re gambling with her future and now you being presented with an opportunity to do right by her.”

“Does council have a question for my client?” Cullen said loudly

“Take the high road, Mr. Adler before she’s rapidly damaged.”

“Does council have a question for my client or not?” Cullen said, standing up.

“Yes, sir. I do have a question.” Highsmith said “Tell us. Is your continued guardianship really in the best interest of this little girl?

“You do your best, Frank. And that’s all any of us can do…” Fliss’s voice rattled in his head, and he took a deep breath. No he wasn’t perfect. Yes, Evelyn could provide for her better than he could but could she love Mary like he did. No, no she couldn’t

He stared at his mother, as he lifted his chine and spoke loudly and clearly.

“Yes.Yes, it is.”

“I have no further questions.” Highsmith spoke.

Frank scratched at his head and left the dock. Following the summing up, they were all dismissed. Frank shook Greg’s hand who told him he would be in touch Frank left the courtroom with Roberta, Fliss nowhere to be seen. He took a deep breath, realising she was probably going to run a mile after hearing about the assault. That wasn’t how he wanted her to find out. However, to his amazement and joy she was waiting for him by his truck. Roberta nodded to him and made an excuse to nip over the road to the store for a water leaving them to talk alone.

“Thought you’d gone?” he said gently.

“No I had to take a call from Joanne about a lesson… why would I leave without saying goodbye?” she frowned

“The assault”

Fliss sighed “Frank, I admit it was a shock to hear but…”

“At least let me explain.” he shrugged.

“There’s really no need…we all do dumb shit right?”

“He was a drunk idiot.” Frank cut her off “I was actually out with a friend, Jacob and his fiancée, Lisa, that night. Jake had gone to the bathroom and this guy bumped into us and sent Lisa flying into the table, knocking a load of glasses over. When I told him to be careful he took a swing at me only he missed and, well I didn’t…”

“You’re a regular knight in shining armour Sailor.” she smiled before she looked at him softly. “I know that was hard today. I was so angry and the things he was saying to you but…it’s done now. Try not to think on it because you can’t change the outcome. Whatever it is, you did your best.”

“You know I remembered you saying that to me.” he smiled, “Right as he was telling me what a lousy life I give Mary.” “It’s not lousy.” Fliss shook her head. “She’s loved Frank. And she’s happy.”

He smiled again as she took a deep breath.

“Look, I have to go, I have a lesson in an hour now this rain has let up, but…what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Working.” he said, chuckling as she raised her eyebrow “ Yeah I know, second Friday night in a row but…well I’m behind thanks to this case and whilst Roberta has Mary I can get a good few hours in and then get my head down before she comes back at midday”

“How about I keep you company?” she asked, “Only if that’s ok?”

Frank smiled “As long as you don’t distract me too much.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**** Turns out Fliss wasn’t the distraction, Cullen was. He rocked up at the garage Frank was working at just as he was explaining to Fliss the different components of the oil filter he was working on, nudging her as she gave a loud, exaggerated yawn. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the flash in her eyes as she looked him quickly up and down, taking in his dirty jeans, hands covered in oil and his long sleeved thin blue sweater which he knew fit him pretty well. Part of the reason he had worn it.

“Hey…” Cullen said.

“Hey.” Frank frowned “What’s…” “I wanted to do this in person.” Greg said.

“I’ll er, give you a moment.” Fliss said. She went to leave but Frank caught her elbow gently.

“No, stay, please…” he said. She looked at him for a second and nodded.

Cullen explained how Highsmith had called him first thing that morning saying that they wanted to cut a deal which would see Mary in a fostering situation. Frank dismissed the notion straight up and Cullen continued to try and win him round, informing him that they could cherry pick and that it would be mutually approved and he’d already found a family in Tampa, which was what he had been working on all day. He continued to explain how Mary would attend the Oaks and Evelyn would get visiting rights and that when Mary was 12 she could go back into court and decide where, and with who, she wanted to live.

“You’re supposed to be on my team.” Frank cut his friend off, glaring at him “Why are you bringing me this deal?

“Other than I’m required to by law?” Greg looked back at him, and then suddenly Frank understood.

“You like this deal?” he asked

“I love this deal.” Greg noded.

“They think they’re gonna lose.” Frank leaned on the work-desk in front of him, looking at Cullen.

“Yeah. They do.”

“You think we’re gonna lose.”

“Yes.” Greg replied honestly. “I do, Frank.”

Frank looked down, swallowing before he turned to his friend.

“I gotta go put my kids to bed. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. But, if we leave this up to the judge…Nicholls, he’s old school, Frank. Does he like your mother? No. Does he like her income? Does he like her health plan? Does he like her home? You better believe it.”

Frank looked down again, shaking his head, unable to do anything else.

“I’ve been in his courtroom. A hundred times. And if it’s a coin toss…Look at me.”

Frank turned to Greg, his arms still leaning on the top, muscles straining as he grasped at a wrench in front of him in frustration, something to squeeze.

“If it’s a coin toss, that old boy is going to side with the money.” Greg said gently “So, do me a favour, Frank. Just meet the family. See how it feels. It’s all I ask.” with that he took a deep breath. “I gotta go…see you later. Goodnight Fliss.”

“Night…” she said to him, watching him leave.

There was a pause before Frank picked up the wrench in his hand and threw it hard against the wall at the opposite side of the garage, before he stood up tall and turned to Fliss who was watching him, her face contorted in sympathy and sadness.

“I don’t know what to do.” he looked at her, and every single emotion he had been holding back cascaded over him in a wave and he felt utterly and hopelessly overwhelmed. He couldn’t stop the tears brimming in his eyes and he bowed his head, once more leaning on the desk. He felt a warm pair of hands gently on his arm, nudging him to turn slightly and he did so to look at Fliss as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a gently hug. He pressed his face into the crook of her shoulder, his tears falling gently onto her soft skin as she smoothed a hand through his hair, gently soothing him.

“Sorry…” he said after a moment pulling back.

“Hey…” she said, ducking slightly, her hands now on his face as she wiped his tears with her thumbs, her own now filling her eyes. “Don’t ever apologise to me for being upset, Frankie. I told you, I was here for the road trip remember? However bumpy the ride. I’m not going anywhere Sailor.”

He let out a soft, watery laugh as he dropped his forehead to hers, his eyes closing as hook a deep breath, composing himself.

“You now no ones called me Frankie since I was a little kid” he smiled.

“Well it suits you.” she smiled, pulling away slightly. “You good?” He nodded, moving back out of her arms. “Do you think I should go?” he asked “Meet this family?”

“Frank…”she said gently “I can’t answer that.” “What would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know.” she shook her head. “I suppose there’s no harm in meeting them but, you have to be sure this is what is right for Mary. But I do know one thing, whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there all the way.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. He gently took her hand and raised it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Thankyou.”

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @icanfeelastormbrewing @pagesoflauren

#frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted #gifted fan fic

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golddaggers · 5 years

Text

pain

pairing: thor x reader

warnings: hm, pretty much none, just swearing? and lots of fluff.

a/n: okay so i had this idea yesterday and sat down to write it and this come out. turns out that my attempt at joking w mother nature gave me my period. oh well. hope it’s enjoyable.

word count: 2,7k+

Shooting through the doors of the suite you were going to stay for the next couple of days, you run to the bathroom, feeling your bladder ache with how much you’ve been waiting to finally pee. Three hours in an aeroplane with a huge Thor asking the weirdest questions in his booming voice was stressful enough and you wouldn’t dare to leave him alone. He could end up deciding to show someone his hammer and crash the plane.

“Fuck!” It slips before you can help yourself. What are you supposed to do? It’s not like you can go out to buy it and since you didn’t know your period would come so soon, you hadn’t brought any on your bag. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

A short shiver of fear washed your figure as you unbutton your jeans, groaning in pleasure as you finally empty the two bottles of water you had during the trip. It was only when you wiped yourself clean that you noticed the carmine stain on your panties and also on the paper. Dammit. You had totally forgotten that your period was around the corner.

“My queen, are you okay?” His voice reaches your ear like he had been speaking right by your side. “I heard a scream.”

“Yes, yes, fine. I-I just need a shower.”

“Hmm, that sounds like a good plan. I shall join you.” He agrees, nearly opening the door, but you press yourself against it quickly. Thor could easily open it still, but he wouldn’t do so because he didn’t want to hurt you. “What is the matter?”

“I-ugh, I need some time alone.” Your answer doesn’t really convince him. “I promise, baby, it’ll be quick.”

“Okay.” There’s uncertainty within his word, you can hear it perfectly, although you are much too concerned over your bloody situation to cling too much to it.

With the shower head switched on so the water can get warm, you begin to strip off of your clothes. It's going to be the first period you and Thor are together. You’re not really sure how your boyfriend is going to act about it. Yes, he’s fifteen hundred years old, must have lain with more women that you could possibly imagine, nonetheless, he was fairly new to the relationship world, being somebody’s boyfriend was a new title to the son of Odin.

Once you taste the water and it’s hot enough, you hop inside the bathtub, blood staining the water lightly, an annoying cramp getting the best of you. Luckily, it goes as fast as it came, allowing you to focus and think about how you were going to solve this. There was one possibility, though. You could ask him to hit a pharmacy nearby and buy you some tampons, it wouldn’t be that difficult. At the same time, the idea of the God of Thunder buying tampons seemed as possible to happen as pigs flying.

Your tiredness then takes the best of you, so you doze into a nap that’s so swift you don’t even consider having fallen asleep at all, waking up startled by strong knocks on the door.

“I am going in, you have been in there for far too long. I am concerned!”

“Shoot. I’m coming, baby, wait a second.” You mumble back, reaching for a, brilliant, white towel and wrapping yourself in it, walking out to find Thor, pacing back and forth like you were giving birth to a baby or something. “Chill out, I fell asleep.”

“You fell asleep?”

“Yes…” Your mind rolls with the idea of asking him. “Thor…”

“What is it, my queen? Your erratic behaviour is unsettling to me.” His large hand cradles your face, inching you close for a kiss. “You have never denied me showering with you.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about it.”

He nods, encouraging you to go further.

“Um, so, you are aware that Midgardian women have something we call a period. Do you know what that is, right?”

There is a confused frown contorting his handsome face, you find yourself running your fingers along with the wrinkles to sooth them, a soft smile as you understand he is utterly stressed as to why you are taking so long to say what you want to say. Usually, the two of you are pretty upfront when sharing things.

"So...?”

“Yes, my sweetheart, of course I do know what it is.”

“Okay, good.” Sizzling hands grip your waistline, pulling you close, “Then you also know that women use things to help them not get dirty with the blood, right?”

"You're on your period.” Thor’s bluntness makes you feel embarrassed, and you nod shyly, though it's not a question. “Is there something I might do to make you more comfortable?"

“I…” Your voice dies a little, “I didn’t know I was getting my period, so I didn’t bring any tampons.”

“And what it is such a thing?”

“Oh, baby.”

Taken aback by his ignorance, you laugh, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, and he holds you up from the ground, making it infinitely easier to snuck your head into his neck, taking in his heady, masculine smell. The moment was suddenly broken when a gush of blood drips down, smearing the ground, and you earn a concerned glare from your boyfriend when he realises the bright red stain.

“I feel frustrated.”

“Thor, listen.” You’re suddenly serious, he’s still holding you firmly against his stiff chest. “I need you to buy tampons for me.”

“Me?” Blue eyes wide in astonishment. “But I cannot. I do not know what they are and how to do the proper buy.”

“Please?” You’re on the brink of throwing a childish tantrum, crying for him to do your bidding. “I need you to do this one thing for me, baby.”

“My love…”

“Thor!” A tear streams down your cheek, pure desperation as you squirm to get back on your feet. He simply squeezes you tighter like your strength is non-existent. “Let, me, go.”

“You have me wrapped around your finger, little one.” With an eye roll, Thor delicately places you on the huge, king-sized bed stacked in the middle of the room. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him curiously. “If my queen needs-”

“Tampons.”

“-Tampons, I shall provide.”

“Thank you, baby.” Tears well up on your eyes again, he’s so good to you. Ugh. You should have known it was close, you’re never so emotional like that. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“The God of Thunder is leaving to buy his girlfriend tampons.” A chuckle slips as he leans down to kiss the tip of your nose. “I will be back soon and when I do, I promise to rub your back.”

“Go! I’m going to cry again.”

Still slightly worried about his girlfriend, Thor strolls out of the suite, finding an empty hall. He decided to take the stairs rather the confusing lift as you called it earlier. It’s much too complicated for him to do without you. He wonders, in the meanwhile, if he should also buy chocolate for you. He had heard, from when his comrades discussed over their women, that it was a good choice for when they were on their period.

It frustrated him that he couldn’t fully comprehend what you were going through and the tears affected him in ways that he’d bend backwards so he wouldn’t see them streaking down. At that moment, all you needed was to be nurtured, taken care for and he would be there for you, even if it was to buy things like the ones you'd asked him to buy.

The small shop down the street was all empty for the exception of a man crouched on the register machine, flickering the screen of his phone. Thor scrunched his eyebrows together, unsure of where to look first, so he went to the little man, perhaps not so little, but when in comparison to himself, indecently small.

“May I help you, sir?”

“I am in need of tampons.”

“Oh… For your girlfriend?”

It troubles Thor as to why he would ask such question, it was sort of obvious that it should be for his girlfriend or wife.

“Of course, why would I need them for?”

“This out or your concern, you should not ask questions of one's intimate parts."

Thor’s unaware of the man’s attempt to stifle a laugh, otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing to walk around the pharmacy, going to women’s section. The thunder god watched astounded the number of brands and different types Midgardians had made for women to deal with their monthly bleedings. And he would inspect it more if it wasn’t the attendant questioning him about the sizes.

“Oh, no. No.” The poor man is almost purple. “The size of the tampon.”

“Oh.”

For a second, Thor pictures his fingers buried inside your pussy, slipping in and out as you clutch around him, convulsing, yelling for him to allow your orgasm. Hmm, you felt fairly small when he pushed inside you, those bigger sizes would certainly fall off of you. Smiling proud of himself, he tells the attendant he’ll have a package of small tampons.

“Does she have a low flow?”

“Flow? She is a human being, not a river. Or a sea.”

“I mean, her menstrual flow.”

His annoyed glare makes the attendant run to give him what he asked.

“Oh, damn. Do I look like I know?”

Once everything is paid off, he goes back to the hotel, suddenly anxious to see you again. Regardless of being apart nothing more than a few minutes, he already missed you deeply. At the entrance, he spots the woman who had taken them to their room wave excitedly, to which he politely smiles, going straight over to where you were. There’s a sudden bitterness in the back of his mouth when he realises that, although it was the purpose, you two wouldn’t be making love the time you were there.

He wouldn’t have a problem with your blood, of course, but perhaps you would feel uncomfortable.

Arriving at the suite, at first he thinks you’re sleeping because everything is quiet. Yet, it doesn’t take long for a loud, strident scream to echo, making him rush to the main room, finding you perched on the bed, your head hanging off while your legs dangling in the air, your face contorted in pain.

“Baby, please tell me you also bought Midol. I am having the most awful cramps in the world.”

“Hmm, no, sweetheart, I apologise. Perhaps I could fetch a warm cloth?”

“That would be very kind of you.” You give a reassuring smile, his heart fluttering when you do so. He loves you so much. “You brought me my tampons?”

“Yes.”

He puts down a small bag and spins on his heel to boil water when you call him out, on the verge of tears again.

“It’s not this one.” Your bottom lip puckers and Thor lets out a strangled moan, frustrated. “It's too small!”

“You are small, my love.” He replies gently. “What is the problem?”

“No, Thor.” The blond kneels in front of you, stroking your cheekbone softly, trying to figure out what to do. “The sizes have nothing to do with my… Well. Her. It’s a flow thing.”

“The guy from the shop asked me about your size and spoke of flow, yes. Maybe I should've listened to him.”

Your eyes widen, afraid that a jealousy-driven God of Thunder assaulted some poor man because he politely tried to give advice.

“He is fine, little one.” Thor reads you ever so easily. “Do you wish me to come back and buy the right one?”

“Yes. Please, babe.”

Soothing lips press your forehead, a thick layer of beard prickling the skin, you smile, fondling his face and watching him leave again, hoping that he doesn't get too mad at you for being so sensitive.

Oh, but he is pissed. Not at his darling one, of course, never at you. That man should have warned him about how it all worked. Fuck, if he had to come back to this God-forsaken shop again, he would make some serious damage.

All he wanted was to spend a nice week away from the Avengers, his family and enjoy it with you. Here he was, however, almost three in the morning, off to buy tampons. If you were this moody when on your period, he was in serious trouble should you ever grow pregnant with his child.

"Hi," Thor mumbled sternly. "I want the biggest size you have got in this bloody shop."

"Didn't fit?"

"I swear on my father's name that if you mention my woman's cunt size one more time I will rip your limbs one by one." It's a low, scary growl. After a short nod from him, Thor continues. "How many does it come in one package?"

"About ten or twelve." The man splutters, obviously frightened.

"Then I want about five large and seven at a normal size."

"Okay."

"And pills for pain? Do you have them?"

"Midol?"

"Yes, that one. I want it too."

The way back is bumpy, his steps rash as thunder crackles on the sky. He needs you to hold him, ground him down because his emotions are take its toll on him. You are the only one who manages to calm him, helping him through his worst moods and clear his mind.

Finally back for good, his heart breaks when he hears your cry, running to find you with your head between your legs. Thor had no idea periods could be so painful and complicated, he feels for you, your pain making him feel miserable.

"Oh, little one. I am here, I got you."

"It hurts so bad." You squeak. "I can't take it. Can't take it."

"I brought you medicine." Little white pills within its capsules are visible through the plastic bag. You shrug it off, wrapping your arms around him, who's sat on the tip of the bed. "Tell me what I can do to help, my queen. I am in pain to see your suffering."

"I'm sorry." Tears stain your cheeks, he wipes them quickly. "I'll be better once I have the Midol."

"Okay, I will fetch you water."

He goes to the mini-fridge, swooping a small bottle of water into his hands, returning to the bed to be beside you, watching as you gulp two pills quickly, still a bit whiny. A large, rough hand cups your cheeks, fingers dipping into your hair, stroking it softly. You moan pleased to his caresses, still in pain, but slightly relieved.

"Sorry to put you through so much tonight."

"I am supposed to do those things, to take care of you. Do not burden yourself with guilt, I did it out of my love for you."

"I love you so much." It a barely audible whisper, yet, he hears it perfectly, a smile showing off the white teeth underneath. "Now, if you excuse me, I should clean up so we can sleep. You poor thing must be so tired."

"Worry not, little one. I am used to the lack of sleep."

You kiss him briefly before going over to the bathroom, giggling when you realise how much he's bought. It could very well be enough to supply the whole hotel staff. Twelve boxes!

Clean and feeling a bit better, you go back to join him in bed, discovering your boyfriend half asleep, still in his clothes. You stroke his beautiful face briefly, going to the buttons on his shirt so you can free him from the grip they offered. Thor groans when you touch his skin, shifting.

"Come on, baby." Your voice blows into his ear, a whisper, "Lemme' take them off so you can sleep better."

A low hum lets you know he’s still up and you go down to unbuckle his belt, one blue eye gaping and watching you sleepily. You smile, taking off his jeans, shoes and socks. He’s forced to lift a bit so you can take his coat and shirt, which left your man in nothing but an underwear. No complaints there.

tags!

"Come to sleep, little one. You need to rest." His voice is deeper than before, hands reaching to drag you into his embrace, under the thick bed sheets.

Nuzzling into his neck, it doesn't take much for you both fall into a much deserving sleep, close together and peaceful to have each other.

marvel: @frenfics

thor: @lancsnerd

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dicecast · 4 years

Note

How're you finding The Dragon Prince? I saw you mentioned that you find it frustrating. I've watched some of it, but I haven't had time to get very far.

Hey thanks a lot. Yeah mean and @afriendtokilltime are watching it while in quarantine and....it is kind of a mess. As of this writing I am 2 episodes away from finishing season 3 and its kind has been a whole mess of complaining around the apartment for the last few days. This show fails in so many different ways but its like...really close to being absolutely amazing. I have complicated feels

First off a Disclaimer

I thought Avatar was mostly great, though it had a lot of problems which I think its overall success and enthusiastic fan base kinda clouded, which are mostly found in the first half of season 1 and the last half of Season 3. Mostly that any time the show attempts simplicity, it does it badly. I thought Legend of Korra had some of the best moments in both shows, but also some of the worse, often seconds away from each other, but it at least tried some new things. WE talk about the problems with Avatar here

https://www.patreon.com/posts/11553648

And Legend of Korra here

https://soundcloud.com/randomshoes/fatal-flaw-legend-of-korra

So Dragon Prince has the components to be in my mind, even better than Avatar and there is a ton of stuff i like.

The Animation is amazing and unique

Some really cool fantasy vistas and locations

Cool distinct types of elves with cool unique magic and powers and cultures

Some great efforts towards increasing diversity in terms of race, and sexuality. Ironically it is actually less diverse in some ways than Avatar/Korra 100% non white cast, but it is very nice to have a fantasy world that is inclusive in regards to race and sexuality. Sadly it actually has a lot of problem with gender which i could talk about in a whole post another time if you are interested. (Dead Moms, so many dead moms)

I like both of the main characters, which is unusual for a fantasy series. Callum is fantastic, Rayla is great, and of course Claudia is by far the best character in the series. All of them have interesting motives, characterizations, dynamics and I enjoy seeing them on screen. The problem is that the show rarely uses them well

Magic looks awesome in this series, especially Dark Magic

The Show wants to delve into more complicated themes than most fantasy, and attempts to get at moral ambiguity, pacifism, questions of monarchy, the nature of villainy, racism, and pulling away from fantasy cliches, and it is really admirable. Unfortunately the show is really bad at actually delivering on any of these interesting themes, which makes the show a colossal mess

This show has a lot going for it. Except it...kinda fails on so many different levels. Each one of these could be a whole detailed post, so if you are interested let me know, but i’ll try to be brief on what doesn't work

The Role of Dark Magic.

Dark Magic is the core of the show’s plot and conflict. So its pretty frustrating about how the show completely fails to actually use this plot element correctly, because in contrast to like Maho from Legend of the Five Rings, or Mages from Dragon Age, its never really established why Dark Magic is evil. Like Claudia kills a deer in order to cure her brother of total paralysis, which...yeah that sounds like a good deal to me. Some of the characters get angry at Claudia for killing butterflies to make really good pancakes but like...pancakes are made with eggs. Which I suppose could be acceptable if the show as embracing a Jainism style world view, but it never bothers to deliver on that perspective or makes an argument for it, it just expects you to accept Dark Magic is wrong because Viren is a bit of a dick. And honestly, since humans are born without magic and Dark magic is a way for them to have a home, the opposition to Dark Magic frankly just feels...conservative. Like for all its inclusive casting the show really has an anti progress traditional feel to it which rubs me the wrong way. Which directly leads into

Problems with Themes. Fantasy stories usually are about moral themes, and Dragon Prince is no exception, a lot of scenes are delivered with a strong moral overtone. The problem is that it is utterly confused and inconsistent, usually approach the topic of Dark Magic. In the first 2 seasons, Viren is chided for “doing things the easy way” and even if ignore the libertarian undertones of that, most of the time, there isn’t really a hard way solution, and a ton of situations have Viren just being correct and characters ignoring him, or treating him like his ideas are far more nasty than they really are. This gets even more confusing when it comes to the shows attempts to address racism, because it keeps treating humans like they are the group with privilege, but according to the opening narration, the entire human population were basically forcibly located to the Western continent, which is often considered a genocide) and Rayla is casually racist to Callum regularly. More importantly, the show seems to want to do a Princess Mononoke pacifist argument, but keeps messing it up by its desire to simplify the conflicts it sets up. This gets worse when the show doubles down on the pro monarchist sentiments that underlie almost all fantasy. Which leads to

Being unwilling to commit to flawed characters. Dragon Prince seems to not want to just be another cliche fantasy story and keeps trying to add details to prevent the characters from just being cliches. however it doesn’t seem to want to commit to this, and keeps reverting to simplistic morality. Again going off the racism angle, Callum has comments which imply Elves are seen as like Demons to the humans, and its implied that propaganda is regularly spread concerning them. And it seems like Dark Magic is just normal in the human kingdoms, that is why they were kicked out after all. But any time we have a “good” character, they just...don’t have that Bias. King Harrow is just inexplicably good when it comes to certain issues, which basically means in a story about racism and people learning to look past stereotypes, all of the good guys are already doing that from the start. This is at its most frustrating with the 5 kings council scene, where despite the fact that it is 100% true that moonshadow elves did in fact assassinate a monarch, the most annoying character in the series is like “Well I read the script and I know this is a wrong action so screw you”. In a story about overcoming racism and nationalism, there is a is a total unwillingness to have characters have real flaws in that direciton, Verin starts out as a sympathetic villain but then basically turns into Jafar in the 4th episode and it just goes down hill from there

There are some really bad characters in this, Ezran is intolerable, Bate just wastes screen time, Queen Aanya is the worse thing in the show, and i’m not even getting into the minor characters. the show also really has some problems with certain female tropes, I don’t think it passes the Bechtel test until season 3 and the writers continue their “Saintly missing mom trope” from season 1 even more so here.

(remove these two and the show is just massively improved)

The human kingdoms are boring and we spend 2 whole seasons there. The appeal of this show is Xadia and the elves, having to deal with discount children’s version of Game of Thrones is just frustrating.

But everything above are problems with the story and the characters, and that isn’t actually what makes this show so goddamn frustrating. This show has some of the worse examples of storyboarding, editing, pacing, and just basic narrative structure I’ve seen from actually competent people. LIke its on Netflix, a company that doesn’t seem to understand what pacing is, and these are the guys who made legend of Korra which was more montage than show at times, but nothing prepared me for this nightmare. A lot of it comes down to it being 9 episodes per season, which is even worse than Korra, which was rushed at 12 episodes per season, but even within that, every single episode is just a glut of content jumping from story beat to story beat without taking a breath. Most of the story elements have no set up, let alone build up, the editing constantly takes you out of emotional moments to deal with a totally different subplot, sometimes entire necessary scenes are literally just...not there and we keep missing establishment shots.

This show is just screaming for self contained one shot episodes, where the characters can have mini arch within the episode and just kinda chill out. Despite the fact that I like Rayla and Callum, I actually don’t know them all that well because most of their screen time is running from one plot event to the next, rather than the smaller moments between scenes that really grow the character. Just some episodes to breath, watching this show is exhausting because you spend most of it utterly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of plot happening. Maybe season 3 will surprise me, but each one of the seasons thus far have ended on a narrative dissonant note and I’m sure this one will follow suit. I think the reason why this show is weirdly addcitive is the same reason why Baby shark gets stuck in your head so easily, its a bunch of leading tones. Like the editor in my just wants to hack this show to pieces and recreate it where characters, themes and tones can evolve organically.

In short, a show with a lot of good in it, but I kinda of hate it, but I can’t stop watching it.

#Ask Dicecast #The Dragon Prince #prince callum #rayla #Claudia #verin #king harrow #Avatar The Last Airbender #Legend of Korra #Dark magic #aravos

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shes-claws-deep · 5 years

Text

Warden - Ma’am

A birthday gift for @golele5! Sorry for the lateness but I hope you enjoy it!

"Agent McKinley, if you get any closer, you will actually be breathing down my neck," you drawl out, looking up and over your shoulder at your tall, suit-clad, moustachioed shadow.

"No can do, ma'am," he drawls back in that slow as molasses Southern accent, one that you know he never actually uses except to flirt. "Six said your noggin' is more important than mine. And when Six says jump, I say how high."

Utter lies. You roll your eyes and sigh. "If Six says so..."

Collin McKinley smiles down at you genially. "Thank ya kindly." Then he puts his hand in front of you to stop you from entering the stairwell first. "Let me go first and check it out, ma'am. Protection 101, remember?"

Infuriating. Utterly infuriating. "Of course, Agent McKinley. Take care that you don't get hit in the head when you do." The sneer on your face could freeze boiling water. The man knows full well you're as seasoned a protection agent as he is. Knows full well you're more than capable of not only protecting yourself but also eliminating anyone who comes after you. *You* know there's little beyond an entire army coming after you that will make you stop in your tracks.

But as always, Agent McKinley is steadfast in his annoying polite Southern gentleman facade. "Just ensuring that no hair on your pretty head gets hurt, ma'am," he says and waves you forward after taking a moment to listen. "Six was adamant in making sure you get back to base safely."

And there he goes with that hand to the small of your back, as though to guide you down the oh so scary staircase.

Goddamnit, you can't take it any longer! "Agent McKinley, touch me again and I'll break your fingers and offer it to your boss."

But rather than feel offended or affronted, the infuriating former Secret Service agent just returns his hand to his side without blinking. "Apologies, ma'am. Force of habit." That satisfied smile on his face says otherwise.

Oh, you know full well how much every move of his is thought out, planned, deliberate. Nothing is ever a 'force of habit'. Not even a hand hovering over the small of your back, touching the back of your blazer but never putting pressure. Is he flirting or is he trying to rile you up? Who could ever know with this man.

Rolling your eyes, you push past him and make your way down the flights of stairs to the garage, ears and eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. As annoyed as you are with Agent McKinley's overbearing 'protection', you have to admit you might actually need it. Apparently being a former royal guard for a now hunted monarch means that you've got a target on your back. You certainly never asked for a terrorist group to come after you.

Also, better him shadow you than that FBI woman with the stick up her ass or that lazy SAT fellow. Certainly better than the brooding masked agent who absolutely refuses to talk to anyone more than necessary and the cute German who seems to have the best comedic timing and the worst social skills you've ever seen. By process of elimination, perhaps Agent McKinley was the lesser of all the evils. Still, it doesn't stop you from feeling a thrum of irritation as you watch him open doors and enter ahead of you, as he checks over the vehicle and doesn't let you do the same. It rankles at you to be this powerless, to let others do the job that you've always done. To let yourself be protected rather than the protector.

"All clear, ma'am," Agent McKinley pipes up as he trots back to you. Like some overgrown, dark-haired, bespectacled puppy. "We're good to go."

You nod back at him and the two men standing by the vehicle. "Good, then let's go. Is our route secure?"

"Yeah," the man who introduced himself as Echo mumbles. "Ash and Vigil went ahead to scout. They said it's all clear on their end too."

Agent McKinley frowns behind his moustache. You do as well.

"Tell your colleagues to keep an eye out for motorbikes and cars. These men and women aren't snipers and gunmen." You furrow your brow and draw close enough to the car for Agent McKinley to open the back door for you. "Let's hope they don't get too creative."

"What was it with wishes and horses again?" The newest bane of your existence chuckles. "We've got a plan B, ma'am, not to worry."

You scoff. "Who's worrying? C'mon, let's get going before we become sitting ducks."

"Yes, ma'am," all three men chime out and hop in after you. The German takes the wheel and the lazy genius takes shotgun, his attention turning to the screen in his lap. Apparently, he has some drone going in the air that will serve as his eye in the sky. Agent McKinley just straps his seatbelt on patiently and goes through his various weapons, checking the magazines and making sure there's a round in the chamber in all of them. Interestingly enough, this mirrors your own actions.

How interesting.

But you ignore his amused look at your grumble, continuing to check your own inventory. Plan B indeed. But instead of an extradition route, as would be the worry for your entourage, you don't like putting your plans to paper. Or rather, you don't like planning in advance. You know the city, the countryside, the suburbs, like the back of your hand. You know your boltholes, your safehouses, and your various ways out of the country. Worst comes to worst, you'll be the one evacuating your bodyguards.

You hope it won't come to that, though. Three guns, four blades, several mystery vials and smoke bombs later, you finish busying yourself and look up just in time to spot a cute little sedan with a suspicious, nervous-looking driver at the next intersection.

"Blue sedan, white driver, two o'clo-ck!" The last syllable is yelped out as the sedan lurches forward and slams into your car.

"Contact, contact, contact!" Agent McKinley roars and yanks you down onto the seats, covering your body with his own as bullets tear through the window where your head was. "Jager, get us the fuck out of here!"

"We're boxed in," Jager grunts back, his breath catching as two more cars slam into the front and the back of your SUV. "Plan B. Evacuate the VIP, Warden!"

"You got it," he grunts and shakes glass out of his perfectly coiffed hair. "Give 'em hell, boys."

And by Plan B, the men mean shooting their way out.

While Jager and Echo draw enemy fire from the front, you and Agent McKinley break out from the back window, slipping free from the wreckage just in time to avoid a fourth car that slams into the passenger's side.

"Motherfucker!" Your growl is muffled by Agent McKinley's chest as he grabs you and rolls to the side to avoid the wheels. But his rescuing hug leaves an arm free for you to whip out a pistol and fire at the driver. "McKinley, I hope to hell you've got a plan C!"

"This is still plan B, ma'am," he drawls calmly, hooking his arms under your armpits to drag you to safety while leaving you to provide cover fire.

One gunman goes down, clutching his neck. Another cries out as he slumps against the blue sedan, hands gripping his bleeding thigh and not his now forgotten gun. A third topples over as he tries to bum rush you and McKinley, planting right onto his face as your round burns a neat hole between his eyes.

"Tell your men to extract once I'm out of sight," you hiss to him as you find your feet and lead the way to a nearby bolthole. "Since they clearly don't mind being shot at, they can help draw attention away while we find another way out of the city. If they're attacking now, they must have our other immediate routes covered. No way we're going to regroup with those two today."

"Roger," McKinley nods and complies with a quiet word. Surprising, considering how overbearing he was just now. That submissive tone of his piques your interest just a little; it's the most agreeable thing he's said since you met him. "Echo, Jager, retreat and rendezvous at point Delta. Going radio silent." Then he rips his earpiece out and stuffs it into a pocket. "You know, this feels familiar."

"Oh yeah?" you growl absent-mindedly, changing out your magazine for a fresh one as you're dragged around the corner of a building. "Why's that?" Another unlucky soul gets downed just as he rounds the corner after you, slamming into the ground with a sickening thump that you and McKinley both ignore. "I've got a bolthole not too far from here. Follow me." Without checking if he follows you, you turn and jog quickly down the alleyway.

"You and me, evacuating Baldwin a couple of years ago off the streets of Marrakesh." He follows you as he speaks, shiny oxfords barely making a noise on the rough concrete as he does so. "Finding one of your safehouses, waiting out the insurgents. Watching you sneak out to recon our exfil."

That mouth of his never stops moving, but strangely enough, his voice helps calm your oddly frayed nerves as you lead him down winding alleys and shady slums. You probably should've taken up your last shrink on her offer to talk about the reason why you left the Royal service, fuck. Who knew that a bunch of cars slamming into your own car would rattle you so much. At least your aim is still true and your experience keeps your hands from shaking, you think, because it would humiliate you to no end if you couldn't even protect yourself at this point.

But as much as you're trying to hide it, McKinley's eyes are ever sharp. "We close to the bolthole yet, ma'am?" He can see the wide pupils of your eyes, the way you're obsessively patting over your other hidden weapons, the way your lip trembles ever so slightly when you turn to answer him.

"Yeah, just up here." You nod up at the run-down, condemned building. "Up the fire escape, McKinley, let's go."

"Yes, ma'am."

The bolthole, one of many in this very city, is small. Bare. Purposed for a single person to take shelter for a night or two. So when you take a tall, well-built man and an average-sized woman and put both inside such a tiny space? You get a very irritated, and a very amused, pair of unlikely comrades.

"McKinley, do me a favour and plaster yourself to the wall so you're not constantly smothering me."

"I'd love to, ma'am, but I ain't flexible enough to bend over the counter," he quips back, though he does arch his back a little and shuffles out of the way so you can unload your arsenal on the tiny little table. "You know, if you wore some heels, you wouldn't have the trouble of having your face in my chest."

You roll your eyes. "Oh yes, let me wear heels and totter all around the city while running away from baddies," you mock him in a high pitched voice, one that doesn't seem to do anything other than tickle his funny bone by the way he's sniggering at you. "If only I could break their necks with it before I do myself."

"But at least you'll look good while you fall over?" McKinley shrugs and laughs as he dodges your thrown boot. Unlike Mr Secret Service, you prefer working boots over looking sharp these days. Which means a steel toe and a blade in the sole. "Kidding, darlin'. Just kidding. You look good in anythin' you wear."

As you shrug off your blazer and bulletproof vest, you glare at him over your shoulder. "'Darlin''? What happened to 'ma'am', huh? Mr Southern Gentleman."

McKinley sucks in air and hisses it out, the sound becoming oddly sexual when paired with the feel of the gust of wind on the back of your neck. "You like it when I call you 'ma'am', eh? I like it too."

"Don't you dare-" Whirling around, you plant a finger in his chest and glare up at him, only to look down when you realise your finger touches bare skin. "Did you just magically lose your clothes?" Although you have to admit, he looks *good*. Like, 'you'd lick chocolate off him' good. Just a healthy sprinkling of hair over his meaty pecs, a sexy happy trail going down into his belted slacks, and a little bit of fur over his forearms, but he looks damn good.

In fact, he looks so good, you didn't even realise you were staring a touch too long.

"My eyes are up here, ma'am." His voice melts into that twang that you love to hate and hate to love, drawing your attention back up to his brown eyes. They're smouldering, full of lust and passion both, fluttering between your chest, your finger, and your face. "Shame we're on the job."

Slap!

He gasps out a moan at the impact, his face swinging to the side from the impact of your palm hitting his cheek. But it wasn't a moan of pain; rather, it was a moan of pleasure. Looks like someone is kinkier than you could ever imagine. And that turns you the hell on.

"No, Agent McKinley." His eyes grow wide when you take a step towards him, pressing him back until his knees bump against the tiny cot. "*You* are on the job."

"Sure am." He nods, a cute little blush rising on his cheeks as he falls back on the cot with a quick shove. "Don't suppose I could, ah, take a little break for a bit? Reckon we're safe for now."

Another slap. Another moan. Another trembling lip and an amused smirk.

"Never took you to be a man who likes to be slapped around a little," you purr and lean over him, pressing your palms over his built chest just to feel his chest hair scratch at your callouses. "And no, no breaks for you."

He chuckles a strangled laugh, his hands clutching at the threadbare sheets and his hips squirming a little when you brace a knee between his thighs, pressing dangerously close to where he's rock hard and aching. "What red-blooded man could resist a powerful woman like you, ma'am? Especially when you're slapping me around in nothing but your underwear."

Another slap. Another even louder whimper.

"Don't be crass, Agent McKinley." You mimic his drawl in a mocking manner, retreating long enough to snatch his tie from the pile on the floor. "I'm not doing this for you."

His breath comes hot and fast, his chest rising and falling quickly as you yank him up the bed and loop the tie around his neck once more. "You ain't, but hell if this isn't going to benefit me to-o!" The O is cut short as you tie the fabric to the iron bars, anchoring him down and ensuring that he can't get out of it without using both hands. Hands which you're pinning by his sides with your knees, squeezing almost painfully tight but eliciting only a strangled moan instead of a wince.

Shit, Collinn McKinley is a hell lot kinkier than you take him for. What a coincidence that this is all up your alley.

"I think I like you a lot better when you're just making noises," you drawl and shimmy out of your pants and panties. The wet stickiness of your pussy juice soaks the lining of your panties, chilling your hand just a little as you wad it up. "Now keep quiet and let me enjoy this."

"What, you don't like me ta-" He doesn't manage to finish his sentence since you take the opportunity to stuff your sodden panties in his mouth. Jamming it and his tongue so he can only sputter and close his teeth once you take your fingers back. "Mmhh!" Well, if you want to play dirty, he's certainly not going to complain. Although, the missed opportunity to offer you his mouth to get yourself off is a bit of a waste. Still, he's got his hands, doesn't he? He's going to put that to good use, whether you slap him again for it or not.

Actually, he's almost asking for it.

With that in mind, he wriggles a hand free and closes it around your thigh as you slide yourself over his belly to straddle him.

"Oi!"

Collinn can only smile at the slap to his face. Jackpot. And yet he doesn't take his hand off you, relishing in the feel of your silken skin beneath his calloused hand, the warmth of you that almost burns his palm as he squeezes you gently.

On your end, you're struggling not to enjoy his touch too much. But fuck, he's got wonderful hands and he knows exactly how to make you feel worshipped even with just a single touch. He doesn't stray beyond your thigh, your hip, and your waist, only his long fingers touching the sensitive skin of your ass, never reaching for your sodden pussy lips that rub against his muscled belly. "Hmph, you're lucky you know what to do with those hands."

There goes his smug smirk. "Mm-hm."

You know what they say about infuriating smirks and wanting to kiss them off his mouth? Yeah, that's exactly what you're feeling right now. Uncaring about his perfectly styled hair, you slide your hands into those dark locks and ball your fingers into a fist, using it to tilt his head back and bare his lips so you can lick and kiss at them lightly, teasingly, riling him up until he's clawing at your back.

"Tease," he mumbles through the panties, pushing it out of his mouth enough that your next kiss is full on the lips. "You're such a fuckin' tease, ma'am."

"You got that goddamn right, McKinley," you growl and tug harder on his hair, pulling and pulling until he winces instead of moans, his jaw dropping from the sharp, erotic pain. "I am a fucking tease."

As much as he wants to quip something smart back at you, he's far too preoccupied with you finally kissing him full on the lips. And when you slip your tongue out so you can give him cute little kitten licks, he can't resist opening his mouth and trying to suck on your tongue where he can. Your taste is addictive, like he substances he swore off on so long ago, urging him to keep kissing, keep sucking, keep licking until his head starts to spin with your taste and your smell.

His lips are sinfully perfect, kissing you just the way you love. Even his soft moustache isn't detracting from his incredible skills. Then it turns out that McKinley is excellent at more than just kissing and making out, because when you lean up to take a break and stretch out your arms, he follows you and latches onto your neck. He sucks at your flesh, nipping at it gingerly with his teeth and then laving at the bruised skin with his tongue, all the while panting softly with an open mouth.

Unwilling to let him take the lead, you yank on his hair and jerk his head to one side to expose his ear. An ear that you promptly suckle like you would his cock. Breathing and moaning and hissing into it until he's squirming and digging his nails into your back.

"You're far too good at picking out my weakspots, darlin'," he gasps out thinly, his cock throbbing and threatening to split the seam of his boxers and his slacks. "Fuck!" A powerful shiver wracks his body when you react to his swear by licking at his earlobe and pulling it into your mouth to suck. "Fuck!"

A dark laugh escapes you at his helpless whimper, so very different from the very in-control Secret Service agent that you know him to be. "Mmm, something wrong, Agent?"

He growls, "You goddamn tease, ma'am. Just fuck me!"

Now here's a proper laugh. "Fuck you? With what, your unprotected cock? No condom, no fucking, Agent."

Who the heck stocks their bolthole with condoms anyway? You certainly never imagined bringing back a beau to fuck in this tiny space. Still, it doesn't stop you and him from groaning in disappointment. From what you felt in his pants, he's gotta be packing a decent cock in there. Then again, you're pretty unprepared, and who says you have to go without penetration just because you can't use his cock?

"Give me your hand."

McKinley hands his hand to you without complaint, watching you with keen eyes as you lick his, thankfully clean and freshly washed, fingers and lower it to where you're aching the most. Oh god. Oh fuck. If he thought you were a tease before, it's got nothing on what you're doing now. Because you're slowly sliding his fingers into your sopping, soaking wet pussy. Taking them knuckle deep and stuffing even more when you decide that a single digit isn't enough. Then when you find the perfect thickness, oh that's when you start to ride his fingers like you would his cock. His poor, poor cock that lies just mere inches away from where his fingers have found the heaven between your legs.

As expected, his fingers curve instinctively, seeking that one spot that will make you gasp and growl with pleasure. And find it he does, pressing so deliciously that you snarl at him to move his hand faster, to fuck you harder, to keep that spark going until your finger on your clit takes over and helps you cum. It's not the most powerful orgasm you've ever had, far from, but it's enough to make you moan quietly and claw at his bare chest as you ride the wave of intense pleasure.

He stares up at you with wonder and intense lust in his eyes, watching you ride out your orgasm and slump down ever so slightly. With a light sheen of sweat covering your skin and your hair ever so slightly mussed, you look like a goddess in the waning light that shines through the broken, frosted windows. He's not quite sure when he started to look at you as more than just a VIP, as more than a fellow bodyguard. If he wasn't certain you'd hit him for it, he'd say you're more like the previous head of Rainbow herself. A force of nature, wild, powerful, and something to be in complete awe of.

But he keeps that all to himself. An easy thing to do when you take his hand out of you painfully slowly, relishing in the obscene sucking sound as your greedy pussy finally lets go of his fingers. "Clean this up for me," you murmur breathlessly, turning his fingers onto himself and stuffing them into his willing mouth.

As he has most of his career, he obeys without a word, instinct spurring him to lick and suckle at his fingers like he would a popsicle. Sucking and taking your mouthwatering slick off his fingers and onto his tongue. The deep, musky, delightfully salty-sweet taste of it makes him moan without thought, his tongue becoming more and more greedy as he licks between his fingers, desperate to take every little drop you've left behind.

"Good boy," you croon at him with lidded eyes. "Never thought you'd be such a good boy, Agent McKinley. But I'll be nice this once. You want a reward?"

His moustache twitches. "Fuck yeah."

"Get up." With a grunt, you untie his tie from the bed and haul him off, bringing him to his knees. When he's there, kneeling and looking up at you with those fiery eyes, you bend your head and kiss him roughly. "Take your cock out."

"Yes, ma'am." He obeys. Flings his belt to the side, almost tears the button and zip off his slacks. But he eventually gets his cock out, his perfect, throbbing, thick cock that's weeping precum and drooling onto the floor.

"Put your cock between my legs."

What? He looks up at you with a raised brow.

Rolling your eyes, you take over by bending and pinning his cock between your thighs. While you generally curse your short height, at this point you're grateful for it because his cock is sandwiched between the soft flesh of your thighs rather than the bony bits of your knees. "Move."

"Nnngh, thank you, ma'am," he whispers, his arms wrapping around your hips to help balance you as he begins to thrust his hips. Soft, slicking sounds come from behind you as he fucks your thighs; the sound of his foreskin slicking against his pre-cum soaked head, joining the sounds of you kissing the life out of the agent even as he fucks your thighs desperately.

"Fuck my legs till you cum. If you don't cum, too bad," you purr into his lips, enjoying the low groan as he nods his understanding. Deciding to give your lips a bit of a break, you rear up and rip your bra off. You want his lips on your tits and you want them there right now.

Collinn knows exactly what you want and gives it to you. He sucks, licks, and kisses your nipples and creates little hickies along the way. Worshipping your breasts with teeth and tongue and hands until you're clutching at his hair, pulling him ever closer until his face is squished in your cleavage. All the while he's pounding your legs like he would your pussy, his hips slapping against your thighs until both of you are starting to turn red from the impact.

Ah, but it takes surprisingly little time before he begins to beg you nice and pretty. "May I cum, ma'am?" He gasps into your chest.

"Mmmm," you purr and scratch at his scalp. "Not yet."

"Fuck!"

Undeterred, he tries again. "Pretty please, ma'am?"

"Not yet."

He's starting to lose his mind from holding his orgasm back. It's so close, he can taste it, can feel it rising in his balls. "Please!"

"Not yet. Hold it."

Finally, he breaks, snarling and clawing at you and seizing your lips with his own. "Fucking please let me cum, for god's sake! You're gonna drive me up the goddamn wall."

"That's the point," you cackle aloud. But you relent nevertheless. "Cum for me, slut."

Those four words tip him over the edge. "FUck!" He yells but squeezes it back into his throat, gritting his teeth and burying his face into your chest. His hips thrust uncontrollably, his twitching cock sending his cum spurting out and all over the place. Grunts and whimpers escape his throat long after his cock stops leaking cum, leaving his throat dry and sticky and aching as his head is pulled up and back so he can look up at you.

"You liked that, Agent McKinley?" Your voice is smug now.

A faint smile twitches across his handsome face and he cracks an eye open. "I goddamn loved it." Then he leans up to press a kiss to your smiling lips. "Ma'am."

Cheeky motherfucker. Well, you've got something that will keep him quiet for a while. "Good. Now clean this up. With your mouth."

Oh fuck, you've got him. You've fucking got him.

#r6s #rainbow six siege #warden #dom!reader #sub!warden #collinn mckinley #lemon

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afinepricklypear · 5 years

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Compare and Contrast: K Project vs. Bungou Stray Dogs - Part 3

**Disclaimer: I love both K Project and Bungou Stray Dogs. I highly recommend watching both of them. This series of Compare and Contrast posts I’m doing is merely for my own sake, to get these thoughts out of my head. If you are a fan of one show and not the other, please don’t read, or if you do, save your bashing comments for like-minded antis elsewhere. If you have not seen both, there are a lot of Spoilers ahead, please don’t read. I am heavily critical of both shows, so if you are someone who cannot handle negative things being said (I try not to outright bash and just provide reasonable evidence from the material to back my stances) about your favorite fandom or characters please don’t read. Thank you! ***

Read Part 1, Part 2

Characters

Both Bungo Stray Dogs and K feature ensemble casts, with large numbers of characters. That being said, the shows have vastly different approaches for how they handle those characters and those approaches impact the way they come across for the viewer.

One of the things that K does a hell of a lot better than BSD, is fleshing out and managing of its characters. This may in part be due to the fact, K doesn’t attempt to give all of its characters a starring space in the story. It’s comfortable letting some characters fall into the background, allocating them to the role of side characters. There are only a few members of each of our main clans (Silver, Red, Blue, and later, Green) that are given attention and the rest of the clansmen (Red and Blue are the only clans shown to have notable clans members who regularly show up and are given names and little else outside of our mains) fall to the background. For some people, this may be frustrating, as we don’t learn a whole lot about the rest of Scepter 4 or HOMRA in the anime, but narratively, I’m comfortable with it because I’m not asked by the show to care about those characters, and the characters that I’m meant to care about are given adequate screen time to develop them into someone who’s story I am invested in. That being said, K does have moments that utterly flop. Scepter 4, for me, beyond Fushimi, is an absolute failure in presenting itself as a likeable or, even, relatable organization of individuals (Full disclosure, I hate Munakata, and while Awashima has potential, she’s treated by the series as little more than a miniskirt and bad boob job obsessed with Munakata). They seem to be there only to be obnoxious. I get the sense they were originally intended to be viewed as villains, but they became so popular following the first season, that the creators tried to treat them more as heroes in the movie and second season. However, it was painfully obvious in the final episode of K: Seven Stories – Nameless Circle, as the surviving members of the Green, Red, Silver, and good Colorless clan members (Yukari and Kuroh) enjoyed their final farewells with their fallen clansmen (I dare you not to cry when Mikoto and Totsuka pour Kusanagi a glass and Yata takes Anna’s hand in the background), that Scepter 4 staring up at Munakata’s lost Sword of Damocles was the least humanized of the Clans. They lost nothing, they felt nothing, their presence in Nameless Circle was nearly pointless beyond fan service. Likewise, K heavily drops the ball in Season 1 with its primary antagonist, the Evil Colorless King, who’s back history, motivations, and even his (her?) name remain a mystery to date.

BSD starts out with an already large cast, and while Atsushi and Dazai might arguably be the “main” characters of the show, starring roles in various arcs and episodes are given to the other characters, as well. Most of those episodes, however, can easily be relegated to the “filler” pile. On top of this, BSD continually introduces increasing numbers of characters, it also likes to bump characters up from side character to more main character type roles, which only serves to take limited screen time from the initial cast of characters and ultimately fails to give itself enough space to flesh out the cast. Time constraints, of course, doesn’t always mean a character can’t be adequately developed (see the first ten minutes of Pixar’s Up for how it’s done right), but possibly, because of this limitation, BSD has a tendency to fall back on telling instead of showing. It also feels like many of its characters were not fully developed in the creator’s minds (this appears to have been confirmed in several interviews with the creators) when they started their story, so that when those backgrounds are revealed, especially in those far too often instances where characters that have interacted in past episodes and given no indication of a history between them are newly revealed to have a connections to one another. It feels tacked on and last minute, and consistency of characterizations is lost. As previously discussed in a past post for this Review Series, this may also be due to the fact that K was envisioned as a self-contained story, and BSD seems to have been developed as an ongoing serial without a predetermined ending.

For these next several posts, I want to do more individualized character analyses, but to keep things simple, I will only focus on the characters of K that are given focus in the story and I’ll try to reference only its anime (just to be fair, because I’ve read all of K’s extra materials, and have not for BSD because I lack access in my country). Likewise, I’m only going to talk about BSD’s characters from the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia, as well as, a few key villains like Shibusawa, Fitzgerald, and Fyodor. Once again, I will attempt to keep to only what’s been revealed in the anime.

A reasonable starting point on character analysis for these two shows would be our sort-of main protagonists. Although, BSD and K are both ensemble anime, they do each feature a character that may ostensibly be considered the “main” character, in the sense that they kick off our main events and are positioned as integral to all subsequent storylines. For BSD, that character is Nakajima Atsushi, and for K, that character is Yashiro “Shiro” Isana. Interestingly (maybe), these characters share a similar aesthetic. Both are young males, with white hair and light-colored eyes, they are also both small, waif-like, bishounen that might be better suited to a shojo or even yaoi anime, rather than leads on a seinen series.

At the start of both series, Atsushi and Shiro, respectively, find themselves thrust into a world of supernatural powered people in which they are targeted for reasons to be revealed throughout the story. The greatest similarity between these two, however, is that they are both weak characters. Neither one proves interesting enough to shoulder the responsibilities as main character of the show. You would be hard pressed in either fandom to find someone who would name Atsushi or Shiro as their favorite character. I’m not saying these fans don’t exist, because they do, they are just few and far between.

Shiro spends the first half of the first season trying to avoid being killed by the Red Clan, who believes he killed their Clansman, Tatara Totsuka, at the same time, he is trying to convince his reluctant ally and potential executioner, Kuroh, that he isn’t the Evil Colorless King responsible for Totsuka’s death. Atsushi’s story, on the other hand, begins with him finding out he’s an ability user that shapeshifts into a white tiger, and, subsequently, being rescued and recruited into the Armed Detective Agency by Dazai. Then the Port Mafia begins hunting him because a bounty has been placed on his head, conveniently only after he’s learned that he is the white tiger that he believed had been hunting him his entire life, he’s joined the ADA, and Dazai has the chance to warn him with a picture of Akutagawa “beware of this bad boy” mere hours before Akutagawa attacks him.

The initial drawback with both of these characters is that they are merely victims of the plot and not helping to drive the plot forward in anyway. Shiro only becomes invested in determining why there’s video footage of him murdering Totsuka because Kuroh demands he provide evidence that he’s not the Evil Colorless King or he’ll face justice at the end of Kuroh’s blade. When Atsushi learns about the bounty on his head that Port Mafia is pursuing, rather than show interest in why anyone would want to capture him (alive, to boot), he “nobly” decides to run away, in his naivete believing that it would spare the ADA war with Port Mafia.

Throughout the K story, we do see real change in Shiro’s investment in his own mystery when it’s revealed that his memories, and the memories his classmates have of him, are not real, but fabricated and imposed upon him and those in close proximity by the cat girl that’s obsessed with him, Neko, AKA Official Provider of Fanservice #1. This provides a further explanation for why he’s so lackluster about pursuing the truth, she’s been bending his reality and his perception of it from the start. It isn’t until her ability and how she’s been using it is revealed, and she runs off in humiliation and panic, that Shiro begins to actively pursue the truth. Even before this, however, Shiro is shown to be a wily and clever character who is quite self-sufficient. In his first meeting with Kuroh, he’s able to escape Kuroh’s justice by lying and manipulating the swordsman. He later throws off the Red Clansmen pursuing him by appearing just as Kuroh is facing off against a very annoyed Yata and calling out to Kuroh as though they are allies. This falls in line nicely with the big reveal of Shiro’s true identity as the Silver King, Adolf K. Weissman. In flashbacks to an unnamed great war (FYI, people speculate this was WWII, which, fun fact, would make Adolf a Nazi, but because this story takes place in an alternate history of the world, it’s equally possible Nazis never existed), we see that Adolf was originally researching the Dresden Slate, a mysterious artifact capable of granting people mysterious powers.

As Adolf, Shiro is shown to be a light-hearted, goofy man with no place in war or battle (consistent with what we’ve already seen in the show). Nothing of his character feels last minute retconned, and no previously unheard of connections are revealed to other existing characters in the show that haven’t been heavily hinted at or already explained. He believes that his research will be helpful in granting people their wishes throughout the world, yet when his sister is killed during an air raid, he runs away, leaving his research and the Slate with his friend, a Japanese military officer who becomes the Gold King and curator of the artifact. This turn of events does grant Shiro greater weight as a main character, and an importance in the plot that doesn’t feel contrived or heavy handed. Hints exist early on that Shiro is not who he thinks he is, starting with his high school classmate, Kukuri noting in introductory scene that she feels like he’ll disappear if she takes her eyes off of him. After all, one of the things that K is often praised for is its mastery of foreshadowing, this comes from having a very clear idea of the entire story its creators hoped to tell and a firm grasp of the connections between all of its characters.

That said, Shiro still remains throughout the story as relatively uninteresting, serving more as a plot device rather than a character. After the Blue Clan, the Silver Clan is the second least relatable and their scenes in Nameless Circle also remain a bit ‘meh’ as the “losses” the Silver Clan experienced throughout the anime were far removed from the actual plot. They didn’t resonate. We see, in Nameless Circle, Adolf’s sister and the younger version of his lost friend, the Gold King, enjoying breakfast with the Silver Clan every morning on repeat. Yet, Adolf’s sister was never developed beyond “here’s a tragic thing that happened in Adolf’s past”, so it’s hard to really feel her loss. She isn’t a person but a plot device, used to reveal more of Adolf/Shiro’s character rather than having anything of her own. As for the Gold King, he suffers the same fate as Adolf’s sister, but also, he lived a long life, and died of old age, so his death isn’t any kind of tragedy in the same sense as Mikoto, Totsuka, or Nagare’s deaths. There’s certainly a melancholy to these scenes, Adolf misses his friends, but it doesn’t pull at the heart strings, quite the way the Red and Green Clans losses do.

The real reason that Atsushi is being pursued at the start of the manga is yet to be resolved. We’re given a loose explanation, a foreign organization known as the Guild put the bounty on his head because allegedly his ability is the key to finding some powerful book that can manipulate reality. When the main antagonist of the Guild, Fitzerald, is defeated, this explanation and Atsushi’s importance becomes all but forgotten in subsequent arcs featuring new villain, Fyodor Dostoevsky. Atsushi himself can best be described as whiny and severely underdeveloped. He continues to be a victim of the plot just dragging him along, but worse, he quickly becomes one note with the constant flashback to his Orphanage’s director telling him he’s useless and doesn’t belong anywhere. There are entire scenes dedicated to this refrain causing him to full-scale breakdown into bouts of self-doubt. All I can say is he was eighteen when he was “kicked out” of the orphanage, he had zero work experience, and when we find him at the start of the story, he’s only been on his own a couple weeks and is already considering turning to assault and thievery to survive. Considering that Dazai and Chuuya were sixteen when they became Executives in the Port Mafia, Kunikida is only twenty-two and has already had a successful career as a teacher before becoming a detective with the ADA, Kenji is fourteen when we find him at the ADA and a former hard-working farmhand, Kyouka is a capable fourteen year old assassin before joining the ADA, Lucy is eighteen and comes from a similar abusive background and is already busting her ass to work for the Guild and then the ADA’s favorite Coffee Shop (jobs she got herself, thank you very much, for spending anytime looking for her like you promised, Atsushi, you jerk), and so on…I’m inclined to side with the orphanage director: Atsushi is useless. It’s a good thing they kicked him out, or he’d probably still be a bum surviving off social welfare the rest of his life.

I also can’t help but agree with Akutagawa, Atsushi has practically had everything handed to him and yet still manages to pull a pity party routine on the regular. It isn’t long after getting kicked out of the orphanage that he’s taken under Dazai’s wing and handed a job with the ADA. This wouldn’t be so terrible if he didn’t constantly squander it, and consistently prove that he doesn’t earn it. It’s hard to like him, especially when the author seems to be bending the story over backwards to give him some semblance of importance in the plot to the point it hurts the narrative. This is best exemplified in Dead Apple. Throughout the entire movie, we see every other character acting to bring the plot forward, meanwhile, Atsushi spends the entire time whining that they need to find Dazai, because Dazai will know what to do. Bitch, Dazai is busy trying to outsmart two super smart bad guys; he doesn’t have time to also prop you up on your own damn feet. It gets so bad that even Kyouka becomes fed up and leaves him. It really says something that the majority of comments for the movie on CrunchyRoll are complaining about how whiny Atsushi is throughout the movie.

While some people are quick to defend Atsushi by pointing to his abusive childhood to excuse his behavior, it is worth noting, he is not the only character that has an abusive past and he is far from being the character who has suffered the most abuse, and that’s including the odd growth on the side of Dead Apple’s plot that is the inexplicable, unnecessary, and might I add, ridiculous connection that was made between him and Shibusawa at the last minute that only raised more questions than answers and created huge plot holes. Atsushi’s travel companions in Dead Apple, Kyouka and Akutagawa, both have their own history of being abused. Just to underline Akutagawa’s complaint that Atsushi has everything and manages to forsake it all, Akutagawa was abused by Dazai, whereas, Atsushi is saved, fawned over, and praised by Dazai seemingly only for the sake of further tormenting Akutagawa. This continues to contribute to making Atsushi a weak character that I find difficult to really like all that much or see as having anything more than a forced relevance to the plot.

Atsushi does have redeemable moments in his interactions with Kyouka and Lucy. With the aforementioned Dead Apple aside, Atsushi is often at his best when he is with Kyouka. She sees him as her savior, and it reflects in the way that he treats her, being seen that way helps to boost him from pitiful status to someone that may actually have potential as a hero. As for Lucy, because she has a similar life history as Atsushi (abused orphan with matching burn marks), he can’t get away with the same woe is me lines that he throws at every one else. She’s got the same kind of past and manages to stand on her own two feet, forcing him to also rise up to meet her. Both of these girls have tragic histories, but seek to lift themselves up from those histories and stand their own ground, which serves to lift Atsushi as well, unlike with other characters that only patronize, validate, or outright feed into his insecurities leaving me playing on my phone hoping his scenes end quickly. More interactions between Atsushi and Kyouka, Atsushi and Lucy, or all three together would be a welcome addition in Season 4. These babies build each other up, and it’s beautiful to see.

At the end of the day, Shiro and Atsushi are prime examples of the “perfectly innocent protagonist whose only flaw is their own self-doubt” and exemplify why this type of a character is always, ultimately a failure. They’re bright eyed, they’re kind, without internal debate they always make the right choice, everyone is drawn to them because they are light and goodness, I guess, and even when they are clearly the weakest in a fight, they always come out on top without working towards bettering themselves in anyway beyond putting in some old-fashioned good guy gumption. This is so painstakingly evident in Atsushi, who receives zero training upon joining the ADA, and is expected to battle (and is successful) against exceedingly powerful bad guys on the regular. Contrast this against Akutagawa, who we see underwent harsh training from the Port Mafia, yet still manages to always lose in his battles against the untrained Atsushi. Proving yet again, that you don’t need hard work to become the best, when you got the power of good on your side. Self-doubt exhibited by these types of characters never rings true, because we see them always get their way, everything turns out fine for them in the end, they never encounter lasting consequences for their choices (at one point in BSD, Akutagawa mocks Atsushi that everyone around him dies, but we have yet to see anyone he cares about die – the only person’s death that we see him have to deal with is his Orphanage Director that was coming to visit him with flowers and probably apologize for being a jerk, and his struggle there is with whether he’s allowed to still hate the guy or not, I mean, come on), and everyone around them that matters respects and dotes on them even before them being shown to truly do anything that should earn that respect and affection. I still don’t fully understand what compelled Kuroh to swear loyalty to Shiro, if I’m being perfectly honest, when Shiro is a lay-about, coward and liar, that ditches his clan in the end to soul search in his airship. Though, I will note, Shiro does demonstrate this character type a mite less than Atsushi. He’s not often shown to come out on top in battles, he doesn’t actually engage in any physical battle himself (his fight with Nagare at the end of Missing Kings, not withstanding, because he’s really just blocking that whole time waiting for Kuroh to show up and do the heavy lifting), he typically needs to rely on the strength and intelligence of others, and is more often than not shown running away. Also, Shiro is never really put into a position where he needs to make any hard, moral choices which has its own drawbacks for a main character in a show where a lot of hard, gray moral choices are being made around him.

I have seen it commented in defense of these characters’ weaknesses that the main character of a shonen/seinen story are always weak. This is not true, and I will point to one of my all-time favorite characters from any anime, as example: Edward Elric of Fullmetal Alchemist (both versions of the anime). Ed is badass, he earns his name as Fullmetal, and he earns his title as the youngest State Alchemist. We see him earn it as we watch him and his brother, Alphonse’s journey to become stronger, yet he also makes mistakes. It is his own arrogance that kicks off the entire anime when, in the Elric brother’s attempt to bring their mother back to life using forbidden Alchemy, Ed loses his arm and then his leg to save his brother who has lost his entire body. Their journey to find the philosopher stone for Ed is entirely about restoring his brother, he doesn’t care about his own body and, in fact, views his missing limbs as his own deserved punishment for challenging God, and throughout we see how their moral failing in the past effects all of their choices going forward. We know why Ed makes the choices he does; it isn’t merely because he is the “perfectly innocent protagonist that exudes light and good”; it is because he has learned from his mistakes. His naivete is not shown as a benefit, but as something to overcome. Ed is always acting on his own motives, while the plot is being driven forward by other characters around him, he is not merely a victim of the plot or being dragged along by it, his own actions and goals also help to forward the story and eventually brings him in direct conflict with the big bad. He struggles under the weight of the choices he’s made, he bears the burden of those he couldn’t save, he doesn’t leave the heavy lifting of gray moral decisions to the other characters, he’s seen to struggle and even lose in the anime, and in those instances, we watch him work to better himself so that he can come back stronger. We know where his power comes from – he trained and studied for it; it was never handed to him. Throughout the anime he is shown to literally and figuratively grow and develop into a powerful hero that we can believe is capable of overcoming our main antagonist, Father, in the end, but not without losses and struggle. This is a protagonist done right. Compared against Ed, the failings of both Shiro and Atsushi is glaring.

That is all I have to say about those two. Next up will be the Black Dog of the Silver Clan versus the Black Dog of Port Mafia.

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moonlightreal · 4 years

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Winx Club Season 8/18

You’re right, all the episodes were gone from Raiplay! Dang, now I wish I’d watched til the end when they were all up. This was the last episode I have; now we’ll have to wait until the next batch drops on @winxclubcomics. Go send her a nice note wouldya? She is a true load-bearing member of this fandom. And I hope her sources deliver the rest of the season soon!

Shameless plug: I also write fiction. Very long fiction. If y’all need more Winx while you quarantine, I’ve got a story that’ll probably last you ‘til we can all go out again!

In the meantime...

In which Palladium teaches a spell and some lumens lay down the law.

18 Valley of the Flying Unicorns

Yay flying unicorns! Bloom seems just as enthused as I am when she voiceovers the title.

In Palladium’s class. The girls take notes. Bloom draws a picture of Sky. Love it when the writers remember that she draws.

Palladium announces they’re going to learn to make a perfect hair and makeup potion! He sounds totally thrilled about it, heh. Is that how Palladium keeps his hair lookin’ so good? Is it normal in elf society for dudes to be all about the perfect hair? Or is there something we should know about our favorite elf? Well in the comics he has a girlfriend, Athris, so I guess the only canon we have for Palladium in love says he’s straight.

Stella is enthused too, of course. She squees about how she adores cosmetic potions, and leaps to be Palladium’s assistant for a demonstration.

But these potions are very delicate and require “maximum concentration and minimal excitement.”

Stella deflates. Dang, there could’ve been a callback to season one where we hear Stella blew up the potions lab trying to create a new shade of pink.

Palladium decided Bloom is a better choice for assistant. But she’s distracted by mopily drawing Sky. Tecna pokes her and says, “Are you offline?” which I have never heard to mean that but I think it’s great. Like Tecna’s “achievement unlocked” thing I think Rainbow is trying to get her back to a unique (nerdy) way of speaking. I kinda would have preferred the real season one’s “I am logical and don’t understand normal stuff” Tec rather than “Nerd is the new cute!” Tec, but either one is an attempt to make her unique, so props to Rainbow!

Bloom mopes. Palladium growls. Bloom pops up and has no clue what she’s supposed to be doing. She drops things in the cauldron.

Ingredients: five drops of liquid beauty, three petals of a young lily, and a teaspoonful of lunar essence. Hmm, so if I were going to make this… the lily petals are easy, and for lunar essence you put a quartz crystal in a bowl of water and leave it in the light of a full moon. The “liquid beauty” is a red liquid in a test tube, so… lemme get Cunningham’s… where the heck is my Cunningham’s?!… well, none of the plants listed under” beauty: to attain” are plants that would create a red liquid. So I’d use some kind of pomegranate juice drink, because pomegranates are associated with Persephone whose beauty was so great that death himself fell in love with her.

Next Bloom has to visualize the final effect of the spell. But since Bloom is distracted there’s a poof and then Palladium’s hair is a bird’s nest, with an egg and two parent birds in it! He is very grumpy, but still cute! The rest of the class laughs and Bloom apologizes. Stella snarks that her excitement didn’t turn out to be the problem here!

So it’s not a potion for drinking, so you could totally cast this spell. Just not if you have cats; lilies are toxic to cats so they shouldn’t be in the same house just in case.

Great outdoor shot of Alfea. In the courtyard the girls ask Bloom what has her so distracted. It’s Sky, of course it is, he hasn’t been in contact for days! Bloom knows he’s on a secret mission, but she can’t stop worrying that he’s in danger. A rather sensible worry with the Trix and Valtor out there. But Bloom was worried about Sky getting caught by “Eraklyon’s royal condors” which resulted in the bird nest.

Bloom shifts to the next worry: either Sky isn’t able to message, or he’s choosing not to. Flora rather shallowly tells her not to think about it, but here’s Twinkle to shift the scene by crashing into Bloom!

There’s no trouble, Twinkle just came to visit. But then the star case appears. “The third prime star waits on Monocerous, not far, look beyond the clouds and higher, you’ll find the trust that you desire.”

Monocerous?! I- I- That is a dumb name! Yeah I know it means one-horn, it’s still dumb sounding!

Stella doesn’t know the place, but Twinkle has visited and tells them about the unicorns. She’ll take them there!

Valtor’s watching. He sends the Trix out. Darcy says following the Winx is getting annoying. Stormy says the riddle was about trust and she trusts—herself! She wants to go alone! can’t say I disagree, Stormy, with sisters like yours.

Icy jumps on her about how finding one star doesn’t make her the strongest witch in the magic universe and how SHE’ll get the star just time. Stormy snarks back. Lovin’ Stormy this season! Valtor gets bored with this and snaps at them but he does show off his green star, he’s keeping it in a bubble with a sort of pink thorny vine grown around it.

Cut to winxboarding over a green land of lakes and rainbows and waterfalls, just the kind of place winged unicorns like to live. This realm also has floating islands, what I think are called “earthmotes” in D&D, they’re a terrain feature I’m fond of. The girls enjoy boarding. Twinkle says it’s “starsome” here.”

Tec says she’s read that winged unicorns don’t trust strangers and maybe they should “prepare some kind of speech.” but Stella and Flora are sure they’ll be fine.

And then Diaspro plummets out of the sky. Wait, what? It looks like the same world but clearly not exactly where the Winx are. Sky is flying with his Specialist suit and Disapro has similar metal wings-- NOT her fairy wings—and she’s flailing around unable to fly straight. “I hate this flying gizmo! Sky, can’t you just carry me?” she asks in the most smarmy voice ever.

Sky says that’s not an option, in the most utterly done voice ever.

Why isn’t Disa using her own wings?? Is she for absolute not a fairy since the timeslide??

Sky says they need to get past the floating rocks to reach the lost locket of Eraklyon, which they’re apparently still looking for. Was that temple on Monocerous? Why would the locket be on an uninhabited world that’s so out of the way Stella hadn’t heard of it even though it has unicorns and I’m sure Stella went through a phase when unicorns were the greatest thing ever, since every girl goes through that phase! I’m not sure I ever left that phase!

We see some flying unicorns, white with wings and colored manes and tails. I think the sight of them does Sky some good because he questions if they’re really going to find the locket—but Diaspro’s walked away.

Then she… startles a unicorn and it tries to take off but Diaspro floats into the air for no discernible reason and she falls on Sky. Did her wings malfunction? Do the unicorns have a flight field around them that she got caught in? It was a very weird little moment.

Because this is not an anime, she does not land with her boobs on Sky’s face but I’m sure she wishes she had. Sky gets up, growling, and Disa says, “I can’t imagine what I’d do if I were alone, among such fierce creatures!”

“Yeah. Very fierce.” Sky says with all the skepticism we’re all feeling.

He flies off into the sky with Diaspro wobbling after. He asks Diaspro if she’s sure they’re in the right place. She unrolls her ‘map’ again—still emojis of her and Sky in a heart!--and says the medallion is on one of the floating rocks. But there are a lot of them. Sky suggests splitting the party but Diaspro is too scared.

But they’ve got company! Unilumens! With pink hair and unicorn horn headbands. They say the floating rocks are just for unicorns and their friends.

Sky starts to ask about the medallion but Diaspro says, ‘We’re on a special mission for the king of Eraklyon so we can go where we please.”

Disa, these lumens are not Eraklyon subjects…

The lumens attack! Ahahahaha! Yay unilumens! They shoot pink blasts and Sky and Diaspro jump into the air to dodge. Diaspro drops her map, which unrolls on the ground. Sky sees it!

Sky: “But this is not a real map! it’s a fake!”

Diaspro; “Um, uh, I, I can explain, well actually...” she admits she made it up to keep their mission going as long as possible.

Sky yells at her.

Eventually he realizes there is in fact no medallion to find. Disa admits to this too.

Lumen: “I think she deserves to be punished! Can we handle this?” She sounds delightfully eager to lay some karma on Diaspro, it’s a wonderfully delivered line.

But Sky says, “No thanks, lumens. We’ll just go back home.” He throws the map at Diaspro’s feet and walks off, leaving the crowd of lumens disappointed.

Diaspro: “Ooooh! My plan has failed! And it’s all your fault!”

Unilumen kicks the map and sticks her tongue out at Diaspro. Ahahahahaha! Love it!

Back with the Winx, more boarding, gotta sell those toys! They land and watch the three unicorns, but every unicorn they approach flies away.

They’re talking about looking for the prime star when up rumbles… a stampede of unilumens!

“More uninvited guests! Are they all coming today?” Heh. Unilumen attack!

But Twinkle stops them. The unilumens recognize her as a fellow lumen and she explains the mission. Unilumens consult each other and decide to trust the Winx.

Cute scene of everybody sitting on the grass as the unilumens give them flower necklaces. The head unilumen introduces herself as “Esteria, leader of the Monocerous lumens tribe.” I would’ve gone with “Epona” because I’ve always liked that name, but Esteria is prettier.

Bloom tells them about the mission, and Esteria says the prime star may be in “the horn” but only the ubnicorns can fly there; a magic barrier blocks anyone else. Stella despairs.

But Esteria says the unicorns just don’t trust them yet. She whistles and color-coded unicorns fly down. Purple, blue, pink, green, more-pink, and yellow. They’re… boring designs. Your basic winged unicorn, nothing special.

Esteria says winged unicorns are kind, but they choose who can ride them. Stella’s keen to give up after just being snubbed by a few unicorns, but Aisha gets her back on target for the mission.

Esteria says they just have to walk slowly through the group and the unicorns will choose them.

Bloom steps on a twig and it scares her unicorn, but they make friends anyway. The other girls and unicorns pair up in short order. Aisha is adorably enthusiastic, I knew she’d be the most keen on riding.

Stella is the least interested, which is weird. I’d think she’d love everything about unicorns. Her unicorn takes a bite out of her skirt and sniggers at her.

Then the unicorns grin in a way unicorns should never do, and their horns light up and the girls get new clothes! Cowboy wear! With short layered skirts that are super cute but probably not practical for riding, boots, and cowboy hats. The unicorns gave themselves hair decorations at the same time, heh.

Esteria confirms that the girls have made another bond, I guess the new clothes are a sign of it. Could this be a transformation? Without wings, because a transformation granted by a winged creature wouldn’t need them. We shall call it… Cowboyix! ...or maybe we won’t.

Everybody mounts up, the unicorns kneel to let them, except for Stella’s who makes her chase it.

Now the unicorns will take them where they want to go… if “he” allows them through.

Everybody’s off! Twinkle stays with the unilumens.

Flying! Stella’s unicorn bucks her off but then catches her. Stella screams a lot in general. Stella really doesn’t like riding, or unicorns. Do we have any precedent for her not liking horses? I don’t remember her having any trouble riding Shiny in Tynix form, and they all ride horses in season 4, right..? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen season 4. So maybe not being good at riding is a new quirk the riders gave her, or maybe it’s just part of her general Usagi-ish comic relief-ness.

On the other side of wherever, Sky is giving Diaspro some well deserved grief. Good grief Sky, just haul her home and dump her already. Diaspro sits and pouts while he rants about how she noticed his fight with his father and sprang the mission knowing Sky wouldn’t check with Erendor since they were on the outs.

Diaspro: “Oh, lay off! Was it really so terrible to take a tour of the magic universe in my company?”

Sky: “Of course it was terrible!” Heh.

Sky rants how he hasn’t been home and hasn’t seen Bloom, Disa says if Bloom really cared she’d understand it was an important mission, Sky points out that it was not in fact an important mission.

A scary wind blows! “He” is coming! Unicorns and unilumens, who were totally watching Sky and Disa fight, flee!

It’s… it’s…

The baddie from the My Little Pony movie?

(which I haven’t seen since I didn’t get around to getting it out of the library.)

It’s a big black unicorn with a silver horn that’s broken off halfway up. He rears and trumpets, then dives at the two humans. Sky drags Diaspro out of the way. The black unicorn chases them!

Sky leaves Disa on a small floating island and flies off, leading the black unicorn away. Oh no, he went the wrong way! Dead end! The unicorn blasts him with fire from its horn and he falls down, his suit sparking. No more suit powers!

The unicorn advances menacingly… cliffhanger!

Hmm, this unicorn has fire colored eyes, just like Diaspro’s. I’m glad we got more from Diaspro this episode, I was so looking forward to seeing more of that “map.” Hehehe.

#winx club season 8 #winx club

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alphawave-writes · 5 years

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Sigrold week 2019 Prompt 5) Stories and songs

Synopsis: Cabaret!AU. Siebren is a famous Dutch cabaret artist and Harold is the struggling novelist who comes to all his shows. Harold goes to get inspiration from Siebren, but perhaps the reverse might also be true.

Read it here or check it out on AO3. Support me by buying me a ko-fi. Commission slots are still open!

Harold doesn’t drink. He really doesn’t, but the cabaret seems to be the perfect fodder for his imagination. He probably stands out a fair bit from the usual crowd, working away on his computer, typing away at his story instead of paying attention to the performances. Or at least he’s trying to type away at his story, but so far, he’s been having a serious case of mental block. He has ideas, so many ideas, but he’s unable to articulate them into words on the screen.

It was his agent’s idea that he writes a romance novel. His last novel got incredible reviews for the way he romanticized space and the stars, and his agent convinced him that his true calling was in romance novels, not sci-fi. In the end, it’s not much of a difference from his regular writing style. Less worldbuilding and more character-building. That’s what his agent said at least. But he is staring at the few words he’s written for the last month now, inspiration just out of his grasp.

He didn’t choose to do a romance novel because his agent told him to, he did it because he wants to. His normal process is to write from the most climactic moment and build from there. He’s got the mental image perfectly in his head. The two main characters, after being separated for so long, find each other on a rainy night. They’re exhausted, their barriers finally coming down after years and years of denying themselves the truth, and now that they are here, they have to speak what’s on their mind.

“Your eyes are like the stars,” Harry whispers. “Shining, shimmering, glittering for me.”

It’s the first line Harold’s written for this story, and he’s still unsatisfied with it. It sounds cliché and utterly cheesy, but he can’t think of a better way to start the scene. Every day he looks at it and wonders how can he change it. Every day it remains untouched, only to annoy him the next day.

It’s easy to talk romance when it comes to stars and space because Harold loves them dearly, whereas he’s never felt true romance for another human being before. It’s easy to see the beauty in them, the tragedy and the ache and the warmth they bring. Everybody talks about the beauty of humans, but no one talks about the beauty of the unknown but Harold himself.

Well, there is only one person, and that man will be performing tonight. Siebren de Kuiper, world renowned Dutch cabaret artist, is probably in the building right now, getting ready for his performance. He has such a wonderful ability for portraying multiple characters in the same song, with a massive vocal and emotional range in his performances. He can act, he can dance, but by far he is at his best when he is singing his heart, just him alone with a microphone and a piano, crooning for the universe.

“Here for Siebren again?” Chao asks.

Harold turns to face the waitress and laughs politely. “No, no. Just here for the atmosphere and the inspiration. And of course, to see your face again.”

“You say all that, but we both know you don’t mean it.” She peers over his shoulder, glancing at the computer screen. She frowns. “This is the same as yesterday.”

“I know,” Harold sighs, adjusting his glasses. It’s another uncomfortable reminder of how many times he’s come here, but at least the owner has been so kind as of late to let him come in for free now. It’s not Horizon theater with Harold Winston, they said and meant with all their heart. He promised in turn a free copy of his new book, whenever it comes out.

If it comes out.

“Come on, you gotta try something different. Order a drink, dance a little, live a little.” Chao leans in conspiratorially. “I can hook you up with some one-on-one time with Siebren if you ask.”

The last one is tempting, he can’t but admit as his cheeks flush. It’s no secret that he admires Siebren, and not completely for his artistic ability. “T-thanks, but no thanks,” Siebren says nervously. “I’m a stranger, a-and I shouldn’t intrude on him.”

“Come on, don’t be shy. I tell you, he’s a real sweetheart once you get to meet him.”

“I think his songs make it apparent he’s not as tough as his exterior suggests,” Harold chuckles.

“Oh no, he’s tough, but he’s also a sweetheart. Just depends on if he likes you or not. And something tells me you’re in his good books,” Chao smirks.

“Really?” Harold says sardonically.

“Let’s just say you both have a lot more in common than you think.” With a wave she flits off back to the bar, ready for the onslaught of pre-show drink orders to come in. He tries to ponder on her strange words but makes the decision to ignore it. Siebren is a performer, destined for the spotlight, and Harold’s just a struggling novelist hiding in the shadows. It’s an idol crush, Harold tells himself. Nothing more will come from it. It’s just better to admire from afar like he’s always done.

When he hears the familiar roll of the metal wheels on the tiny wooden stage, he instinctively closes the lid of his computer and turns to the stage. The Master of Ceremonies is smiling brightly as always, a little bit chipper today than yesterday. Probably because Harold knows they have a date with a cute omnic woman later tonight. He hopes that relationship goes well.

“It’s your all-time favourite. The star of the show. The harnesser of the harness. The universe at his fingertips. Ladies and gentleman, you’ve been waiting very patiently so please put your hands and appendages together for Siebren de Kuiper!”

Siebren walks up behind the MC and does a short bow. He’s wearing a standard suit with a swallowtail jacket, perfectly tailored to his body, not a crease to be seen on his clothes. His hair is short and greying, the dramatic lighting highlighting his sunken cheeks and creased forehead, but he is tall and he is large and he is larger-than life. He takes a seat on the piano, opens the lid with a loud creak, and with a flourish, removes the white gloves over his hands.

The crowd is silent, save for the odd clink of cutlery on plates. All eyes are on Siebren de Kuiper as he places his fingers on the keys. He plays a chord, clears his throat, then turns his attention to the crowd like they are just an after-thought. His expression is serious but not harsh. Harold knows over time his face will become kinder and softer as his performance goes on, which is why he’s surprised when Siebren smiles all of a sudden. Is it just his imagination, or is Siebren looking at him?

Siebren taps on the microphone, the static filling the room before quieting. The crowd is quiet. His lips curl up into a smile.

“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming. Tonight, I have a special song, fresh off the presses.”

Murmurs rise in the audience. Near the bar, Harold can see the owner and the bartenders talking in furtive whispers, gesticulating wildly. This isn’t planned, he realizes.

“I must profess, I have been single for a long while now, but I’ve filled that void with you, my darling audience.” Someone wolf-whistles, eliciting a sheepish laugh from Siebren’s lips. “Thank you for the enthusiasm. At least one of us is excited for tonight.” Quiet chuckles erupts from the crowd. “No, I am still single, but there is one among you who has been my inspiration of late. I have not spoken to you, but I have seen you, and I have heard you, and your words have inspired this song that I shall sing to you all tonight.”

Siebren clears his throat again, resting his fingers on the keys for a moment before playing. It’s a smooth, jazzy backing tune, embellished with tiny artistic flourishes to show off his ability. As he lands on a chord, his voice is deep,

Your eyes are like the stars

Shining, shimmering, glittering, for me

And although you may be so far

I’ve come along to see you

It takes all of Harold’s willpower to not jump from his seat. That’s the dialogue he’s writing for his novel. It can’t be that the one to inspire Siebren is…it can’t be him…it just can’t be. There’s no way.

Take hold of my hand

Sweaty, sticky, clammy, from you

I am sure that you understand

I just can’t stand to be away.

Siebren keeps glancing at the crowd but Harold knows that he’s actually glancing directly to him. How can it be that just from Siebren’s eyes, he hears so many unspoken words. It’s such a pleading look, as if to say “look at what I have made. This is for you. I did this for you”. It’s so touching and beautiful. But…why? Why would Siebren go to such effort for a stranger?

Oh, I know we’ve only met,

But I won’t leave this place content

Until my universe is made of me and you.

When Siebren finishes his song, the crowd stands and claps. Only Harold remains sitting, tears staining his eyes, throat tightening painfully. Siebren stands from the piano and bows, his eyes never leaving Harold’s. He gives a sympathetic smile and then a mouthed “find me after the show” and then he continues on his performance.

For once, Harold can’t concentrate on Siebren’s performance. When it’s over, he rushes to the backstage area and searches for Siebren’s room. When he finally finds it, he knocks three times. His nerves are rattled, his hands are shaking, but adrenaline is pumping through his body. He needs answers. He needs clarification. He needs to know. Why, why, why?

Siebren opens the door. Soon as he sees Harold, his expression softens immediately into a shy smile. “You must be Harold Winston.”

“A-and you’re Siebren de Kuiper. Not…that I didn’t know that before. I did. I’ve seen a lot of your performances.” Harold stops to take a breath to centre himself. Siebren is tall from the stage, but it’s somehow more terrifying up close. “S-sorry. I, uh…I’m here about the…song?”

“I-I realised that it’s technically plagiarism. I mean, I did write the melody, but the words are all yours. But they’re beautiful words and I’ve been stuck on song ideas for so long and when I read them they just suddenly flowed into me and…” Siebren blushes. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“I think we both are,” Harold chuckles nervously. He glances down at Siebren’s feet and stays silent for several seconds.

Harold can feel Siebren’s gaze on his body and his cheeks get red. Chao wasn’t wrong, Siebren is a sweetheart, but even so, there’s something about the air that tells him that Siebren doesn’t normally behave this way. Harold’s certainly never this clumsy with his words before. Is that what it’s like to meet your idol crush? This overwhelming, intense heat in his chest? What is Siebren feeling right now?

Harold gulps. “It’s a…good song,”

“You liked it?” Siebren asks.

He nods. “Truth be told, I didn’t like it when I first wrote it. But hearing it in your song makes it sound…I don’t know, better? More suitable?”

“I did tweak it a bit, I’ll admit, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that.”

“I did. It’s good.”

“I’m glad,” Siebren says softly.

There’s something so intense about the ocean blue of Siebren’s eyes. Harold doesn’t notice them from the stage, but they’re so big and so welcoming, like he can just dive in to the crystal waters and swim for all eternity.

“I…actually am glad you are here, because I want to proposition you.” Harold’s eyes widen. “P-propose an idea. Not proposition. English isn’t my strong…” he grunts. “L-look, in the coming months, I am preparing to go on a tour across the country, and I need material. What little I have seen from you has already been enough to inspire me to create one song, so I can’t begin to imagine how much more will come from me if we worked together.”

Harold lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. For one brief moment he thinks he won’t mind if Siebren actually propositions him, but he will not voice that out loud. Not in a million years. “Y-you’re saying you…want me to work for you?”

“As a songwriter, yes. O-or a regular writer for my performances.” Siebren smiles bashfully. “I’ve…I’ve read your Universe sings series religiously. If you can replicate even just 1% of that, I know you will be a perfect fit for my work.”

“I…I’m not musical though. I mean…” Harold adjusts his glasses nervously. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” Siebren says. “But I understand if you refuse. I do not want to pressure you. I understand this will be quite different to what you’re used to.”

It sounds too good to be true. A chance to work alongside his idol, making some money, creating songs and performances that will be performed to hundreds and thousands. The two of them will be together, meeting each other every day, discussing ideas, laughing over jokes, touching each other’s hands, sliding their fingers down their chests.

Harold turns his head away, blushing at his thoughts. Siebren frowns. “Is that a…no?”

Heat creeps up his cheeks and flood his veins. His breathing goes erratic. His eyes are taking in that strong chin and large frame and beautiful lips. This is love, Harold realizes. Is this what his characters feel like?

Harold takes a shuddery breath as he offers his hand. “I’ll…I accept.”

Siebren grins as he excitedly shakes Harold’s hand back. There’s electricity to his touch, zapping him in all the most pleasurable spots in his body. He feels like his knees are going to give out any second. “This is great. This is perfect, I…this is a pleasure, Mr. Winston.”

“Harold,” he clarifies. “Just…call me Harold.”

“Only if you call me Siebren.”

It’s all for the sake of his novel, Harold tells himself over and over that night as he types furiously into his computer. He’s not doing it to feel that pleasurable feeling again. He’s not doing it so he can be close to Siebren. They’re just feeding off each other, giving each other inspiration.

This is not love, Harold fools himself over and over again, knowing deep in his heart that this is very much love.

#Overwatch #Sigrold #Sigroldweek #Sigroldweek2019 #Sigma #Siebren de Kuiper #Harold Winston #This is basically Moulin Rouge the film but less sexy #I've got so many AUs for these two it's not funny #Siebren: *sings a song that he plagiarised from Harold*#Harold: I can't NOT fuck him

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ikesenhell · 6 years

Text

Footage

Bloodline, Chapter 4. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: Ayana is @jindalraekarkki’s lovely OC! Thank you so much! A slight warning: there is disturbing content near the end. It doesn’t fall neatly into a content warning; the closest is torture? Also: blood and vomit.

She grew on him.

Maybe it was this new and uncertain past behind him. The whole world felt like it titled and swirled out from under him, the whole of his bloodline running out of him in red rivers, brimming with questions. Sometimes he lay awake at night, wondering if he could shout his question to the heavens, and if--like Albert Camus wrote in The Myth of Sisyphus--the benign, indifferent universe would bother to hear him at all.

But her presence calmed all that. He didn’t like the wondering. He was a man of action, and being forced into the present by her helped.

They ate dinner together now. In the spirit of cooperation, he took turns preparing the meal and cleaning, though he couldn’t force himself to look anything but annoyed at the arrangement.

“If you’d rather that we not do this, we don’t have to,” she offered one night, twirling some penne on her fork. “I don’t want to impose on you. You’re already doing enough.”

“I...” I like it. I like having someone to talk to. I don’t mind having you around, it makes me feel grounded. “It isn’t entirely awful.”

She stared at him a long while. At last, a smile cracked her lips, and he felt the lurch of excitement at realizing she was reading him. Never before was he so pleased at being vulnerable. “Alright then.”

Ayana kept in contact. Apparently she was doing alright; she was currently in custody of Masamune and doing well. The Princess (he’d caved and mentally dubbed her that, having forgotten her real name) laughed out loud and shared a series of texts with him. “The poor woman is so shy around men.”

“Then they really fucked up by putting her with Masa,” Ieyasu snorted. “He’s just about the least shy person in the world. No doubt he’s flirting with her left and right.”

“Apparently he’s cooking her all sorts of incredible food, though.”

A fleeting pang of jealousy flitted through him before he reminded himself of how ridiculous that was. “Yeah, well, Masa’s halfway decent at that, I guess. Has to make up for his personality somehow.”

She snickered and squeezed his shoulder. The last time anyone did that was years ago. As soon as her hand moved, he missed the touch.

---

The next dossier wasn’t a file. It was a contact.

“He’s got some interesting documentation he wanted us to see.” Mitsuhide slipped the contact details over Ieyasu’s desk with a snaky smirk. “I have reason to believe it has to do with you.”

“How so?” Ieyasu didn’t take it, but she did, quietly parsing its contents.

The white haired man just smiled. “He’s an inside in the Mafia that we planted a while ago. Since it’s the same branch that seemed to take such singular interest in your family, I can only assume that you might want to follow up on this yourself.”

Ieyasu just sighed. “One problem with that: if... my ‘uncle’ is involved with them somehow, then I’ll be immediately recognized if he’s tailed. His cover would be utterly blown.”

“More to the point, then. We don’t have the agents to send out to rendezvous with him right now.”

“I’ll do it.”

Both of the men blinked, turning to face the archivist. She just stared back at them. “I’m volunteering.”

“Have you the faintest idea what for?” Ieyasu snapped, all of his frustrating bubbling to the surface. “You don’t. You don’t know a damn thing about handling these kinds of things. You would get killed.”

Maybe she knew him too well. She held fast in the face of his ire, recognizing it for what it was. “I understand that you don’t like this, but I’m an unknown in this situation right now. I’m just some librarian in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m not on the radar. Insofar as anyone is concerned, I’m dead. You’d get identified, but I wouldn’t.”

“Too true.” And Mitsuhide snickered, leaning into the wall. “The little Princess has a point there.”

He couldn’t let it go. “You saw their faces when they shoved you into the copy room. How are you so sure they won’t be there?”

“The odds would be pretty wild for that.”

Silence fell in the room. She looked so certain--and he had to know--but he couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

“I take it that’s consent,” she finally noted. “Or as close to it as we’ll get. Mr. Akechi? Sign me up.”

---

She wore an impeccable pink blazer with a matching pencil skirt and floral pumps--the very picture of a professional archivist in the Nation’s Capital. He watched as she twirled her fake ID around a lanyard on her hip, adjusting her purse. They were scrunched tight together in a one-person bathroom that served as their undercover operations point. To provide her with a proper cover, they’d had her doing all sorts of errands around the city without any equipment.

“Safety’s on,” he muttered, slipping the Glock 43 inside the jacket’s hidden holster. “You know how to fire one of these things, right?”

Her nervous smile was almost enough to change his mind. “If it comes down to that. I think.”

“You can’t think. And you won’t be smiling afterwards if you have to.”

Apparently she had no response to that. She flipped on the bud in her ear and smoothed down her outfit. “We’re live?”

Not the right terminology, but he just nodded and gave a thumbs up. Fixing him with a last, shaky smile, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Ieyasu locked it again and waited five minutes, listening to the staccato rhythm of her breath. Relax, he wanted to tell her, but that was stupid to say, given the circumstances. Instead he busied himself patching in their spare team for backup. Satisfied with the distance between them, he finally slipped out of the door.

The pattern of the world around him clashed with the sounds in his ear, but he did his best to ignore that. On the other line, he could hear the faintest murmur of the backup team in the vicinity. It wasn’t comforting enough to still his runaway heart.

Finally he settled into position near the glass doors. He feigned an unlaced shoe and knelt, fumbling with the ties and subtly watching her bright pink form in the front.

“...you the Princess?”

Ieyasu cringed at their codename for her, but that sounded like the contact. Without meaning to he held his breath.

“Acer?” She responded, adding a sweet, “Are you sure you didn’t want to go with Toshiba or something?” The other man laughed, but the sound was strained and thin.

“Yeah. Nice suit.”

Drop the package, Ieyasu thought. Drop the package. This isn’t protocol. Usually the contacts knew to just leave it and go. The longer he spent, the more danger everyone involved was in--and yet--

Unease prickled the back of his neck. He straightened the shoe finally and stood, heading towards her at a clip, already a hand on his earpiece. “Get the folder. Backup please. I think it’s going wrong.”

Her shoulders squared. “Thank you for the compliment. Can I have it, please?”

The man nodded and reached into his jacket, drawing out the edge of a manila envelope and handing it over. She turned down her head to accept the package, and as she did, Ieyasu watched the man wrap his hands around the cool chrome grip of a weapon--

BANG.

Onlookers screamed and scattered. The Princess and the contact both dropped; Ieyasu sprinted, drawing his weapon in one. “CONTACT! WE HAVE CONTACT!”

“On it,” the voice on the other end answered.

Ieyasu wrenched her off the ground (she had the glock clutched in her hand, arms trembling) and threw her behind him in time for a man on a bench to drop his paper and draw his own weapon. Barely was he up before--CRACK!--he lurched backward, blood spattering over the marble building behind him.

“Nice shot, Sarutobi,” someone muttered.

“Thank you, Mr. Uesugi.” The sniper answered.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! More shots popped around them. Ieyasu practically ripped her off the ground and fled to the cover of the building, kicking open the door. A metal detector went wild. “EVERYONE! GET DOWN!”

Barely were they behind a wall before the telltale shatter of glass crashed into the library after them. Patrons shrieked and ran. The scream of sirens in the distance let him know backup was coming, but in the meantime, there were priorities. A pursuer raced around the corner after them, and without hesitation, Ieyasu shot him through the chest. Outside, more bullets ricocheted between historic monuments.

“Got another.” Kenshin’s chill voice was always too calm for Ieyasu’s taste. The man was a monster. “We’re almost clear out here.”

“Site is secure from my angle.” Sarutobi followed up. “No injuries on our part.”

Ieyasu didn’t need another second. Wrapping his arms firmly under the Princess’, he half-dragged her to the bathroom again, locking the door behind them. She bent double over the sink and vomited.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, gagging again. Ieyasu tugged her jacket from her shoulders--the pink was dashed with blood, sprayed up over her throat and mouth... and there wasn’t a bullet hole. He turned it each which way, then spiraled her around to face him, patting her down. No holes. She’d not been shot. Trembling, she grasped his arms tight. “I shot him.”

“Good.” He couldn’t think of what else to say aside from that--but then her eyes watered and waved. Come on. Say something. Anything. She’s terrified.

But no words came. She heaved again, then cupped her blood-soaked hands over her eyes, tears rolling over her knuckles. “I think I killed him.”

Nothing he said would fix that. Ieyasu set her ruined blazer on the counter, the manila envelope forgotten beside it for now, and just held her until her tears were spent.

---

Contained in the envelope was a single labeled CD. They ran every test they could think of on it before clearing it for viewing.

“I thought it might be best to let you have your way with its contents.” Mitsuhide handed it over, the unspoken favor lingering in his tone. Ieyasu took it without commentary. “The Princess fine?”

“As fine as she can be after that.” He snapped harder than he meant to. “Thanks.”

She was waiting in the office when he entered. He almost thought to ask her to leave--but after all she’d gone through, he figured she deserved to at least see what she’d nearly died for. Quietly, he loaded the disc into the drive.

A folder loaded. They perused its contents a bit at a time, sorting and cataloging them with precision. Usually he didn’t go for this kind of work, but with an actual, bona fide archivist with him, it was so much easier.

And then they got to the video: “Incentive”.

When he played it, they almost thought it was a dud. Nothing but grainy blackness swirled before them. He almost closed it before the woman’s sobs echoed through the speaker.

“What was that?” The Princess asked, horrified.

Ieyasu didn’t answer. All of his hair stood on end as the woman’s voice cut through the silence. A green mass wavered as whoever it was drew nearer to the camera, and then--

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

His mother’s hair was matted and dirty, caked with what he wished he didn’t recognize as blood. Her eyes were gaunt and hollow, skin sagging on her emaciated frame. He couldn’t see much else of her, but it looked like her wrists were chained behind her.

“Please,” she sobbed into the camera. “Please. Do whatever you want to me--do anything you like--but please don’t hurt my son. Please, please, please don’t hurt my son--”

The video ended there. Ieyasu rewound it and stopped the tape on her face, the face he hadn’t seen in decades, a face he missed so bad it hurt like knives in his chest--and wished he’d never seen her again at all.

“Ieyasu?” The Princess murmured, curling her hand around his.

“I--” His voice failed him. God, he hated being weak. He despised being fragile. But that was his mother in that video, and he loved her, and he missed her, and he’d never felt such horror and shame and panic and hate in his life, and--

Ieyasu dipped his head against the desk and sobbed. As the Princess wrapped her arms around his shoulder, he rocked against her and let himself be weak.

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lovingdelusions · 6 years

Text

Tired PART 1(Peter Parker x Male! Reader)

A little bit of background info: Peter Parker is a surgical intern while the reader is a surgical resident.

Word count for both parts: 4,340

Being a surgeon was hard. Being a surgical resident with interns was harder than being a regular surgeon. At least, that was how you saw it. Today’s shift seemed to kick your ass. You hadn’t slept well the night before, and you were running off adrenaline and energy drinks.

Once you got home, you crashed hard. You couldn’t even make it up the stairs, so you slept on the table. (The new couch you ordered hadn’t been delivered to your apartment yet. Someone broke into your apartment and, believe it or not, only stole your couch. All your money and other precious items were in tact, but the couch was missing.) You woke up in the middle of the night to loud knocks on your door. The time on your phone read 3:34 AM, so why in the hell was anyone here?

Your logical senses told you not to open the door, but those flew out the window when you stomped to the door, alerting the possible murderer that you were indeed home and awake.

“What is it?” you snarled.

“Um, Dr. L/N?” The familiar intern’s voice caused your brain to be on high alert.

“Oh. What do you want, Parker?” you said, scanning him for injuries. He had a black eye and a cut on his arm that would definitely need stitches. More than that, he looked utterly exhausted.

“Please, call me Peter.”

“Okay. Well, answer my question, Peter.”

“I know this is very inappropriate, but can I stay with you tonight?” Something was up. Peter Parker, your surgical intern, almost never asked for help. He would always try to figure it out on his own which has led to many arguments about recklessness and pride, no matter how brilliant his ideas were.

You wanted to argue with him, but seeing the condition he was in and how cold it was, you let him in anyways. “Here, let me get you a cup of tea.

“How about coffee?” Peter asked hopefully while taking a seat in your dining room.

You looked at him like a disapproving father would. “It’s too late for coffee. You’ll never fall asleep then, and you look like you need the sleep anyways.”

He sighed but nodded. It was eerily quiet in the room, so you turned on a ballad to ease the tension. While the kettle boiled, you went to get your homemade first aid kit that included stitching scissors, surgical thread, numbing cream, and two types of alcohol: rubbing alcohol and whiskey.

“Let me have a look at your arm, Parker,” you said while washing your hands. You heard no response, so you looked over your shoulder to find a very asleep Peter with his mouth wide open as he slumped over your table.

You couldn’t have one of your interns wake up with sore muscles and perform inadequately tomorrow, could you? No, really, could you? Huffing, you grabbed one of his arms and started to haul him upstairs until you reached your room. By that point, he was starting to stir, so you laid him down as gently and quickly as possible. You grabbed his wrist and put some alcohol on it while taking a swig of the whiskey. Bleh. You hated whiskey, but the disgusting taste kept you awake. Carefully, you began to stitch up his arm, checking every few seconds to see if his breathing was even.

By the time you were finished, the clock read 4:55 AM. You’d have to deal with the black eye in a few hours.

“I might as well get some sleep while I still can,” you muttered as you turned off the stove. The table would have to do for tonight because there was no way you had enough energy to get back up those stairs. The table was more comfortable anyways.

Your peaceful sleep was interrupted by a loud, annoying ringtone. Ugh, Star Wars. Without thinking, you reached over to the source of the sound and answered. “Hello?”

“Holy shit. Dr. L/N? What are you doing with Peter’s phone?” Why me?

“I’ll explain to you when I get there, Ned,” you said. It was 8:00 AM. “Just don’t jump to conclusions, and for the love of everything holy, do not tell the chief of surgery.”

“. . . Will do.”

You knew that if the chief even looked at him suspiciously, Ned would tell him anything and everything. Ned couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

Every thing would be fine. Deep breaths, Y/N.

You heard a very loud smashing sound coming from upstairs. Spoke too soon.

“Dr. L/N?” you heard Peter call. You jogged upstairs to see what damage had been done. Laying on the floor was not only a very beautiful and very expensive vase but also Peter Parker. There was a white, stringy looking substance attached to various parts of the vase that led to Peter’s wrist.

When your eyes finally landed on the man of the hour, he gave you a sheepish smile while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, this is kind of a sticky situation. Isn’t it?” Peter laughed nervously. You, however, did not show any emotion rather than irritation. On the inside, you were laughing at his uneasy composure. “I suppose you want to know how this happened.”

“I suppose I do,” you said not able to hold in a smile any longer. To Peter, it probably looked like you were going to murder him. If you were being honest with yourself, Peter was your favorite intern. He was brilliant, charming, and down right adorable.

“I’m Spiderman, and-”

“I know.”

“This must sound crazy, but you’ve got to believe-” Peter froze, not comprehending what you had said. “What do you mean ‘I know?’”

“Peter, I can see your Spiderman suit because your jacket is open. You also left your mask downstairs last night.”

“Oh.”

You yawned, breaking the silence, and invited him down for a cup of coffee. You’d deal clean up the mess tomorrow. Besides, if someone tried to break in, they’d have a fun time trying to avoid the shards.

Neither of you said a word as you sipped on your black coffee. Most days, you’d put sugar and spice and everything nice, but today you needed something bitter to even it out. Peter, however, went the opposite direction. He put six sugars and at least three tablespoons of hazelnut creamer in his coffee. At that point, his drink wasn’t really coffee. It was one of those frappes from a fast food place.

“I can’t stay at my apartment anymore,” Peter said. “It’s too dangerous for my Aunt May. Last night, this villain almost caught me going home. I had to lead him somewhere else. Not that I led him here of course.”

You knew you were about to break every ethical, work code that ever existed, but you knew it was hard to find a decently priced apartment that was close to the hospital. “You can stay here with me if you’d like.”

He was clearly shocked. “Before you disagree, it’s really close to the hospital, and the amount that you’d be paying is well within your range.”

“What am I going to tell my aunt?” Peter asked.

“Let’s talk about it on the way to work,” you said, grabbing your keys. The walk to work was always pleasant. Most days, you took the longer route through Central Park, enjoying the scenery. Kids ran around, playing tag or hopscotch while their parents conversed with one another. Early in the morning or late at night, dogs could be seen running with their owners without a leash. The feeling of loneliness always seemed to strike you, no matter how many people were in the park that day.

It was nice walking with Peter. Contrary to what you said earlier, you didn’t talk about what Peter was going to say with his aunt. Instead, you made small talk.

“Do you ever think that none of this exists, and we’re just living our lives as a simulation?” Peter asked. His hands swung back and forth as he walked while yours didn’t move as much. What the hell?

“I think that anything’s possible. Whether these people seem real or not, we help save them. Peter, we save lives. We save mothers, sons, daughters, fathers, and everybody in between,” You said.

His hands kept brushing yours every time he moved them. It was irritating, so you grabbed them and continued to walk hand in hand.

The look on Peter’s face was priceless. He looked like a fish out of water with a bright blush adorning his cheeks. You laughed and start to swing your hands back and forth. This was much better than walking alone. Whenever you walked by yourself, everything was so cold, but when you were with Peter, you felt warm

Soon, he began to laugh with you. He stopped for a second to look at his watch while you looked at yours. Oh shit. You two were going to be late.

Peter, gripping your hand tighter, began to pull you along as he ran through the park. With how fast you two were going, you felt like you were flying. As you burst through the front doors of the hospital, you were out of breath from laughing so hard. You were leaning against each other for support as you kept laughing.

However, when you saw the chief pass by, you immediately stopped. You didn’t even realize you and Peter were still holding hands until he pulled his hand away. Right. You cleared your throat and straightened yourself up.

He was an intern, and you were a resident. Know your place.

Without looking at him, you walked to the residents’ locker room to change into your scrubs. Although a lingering disappointment settled in your heart, you felt more awake, more alive this morning than any other morning in the past year.

You and Peter arrived on the surgical floor at the same time. You had taken the elevator, figuring Peter would have taken the stairs to avoid you. You were right (of course). He was out of breath and slightly sweaty.

“Hey, Dr. L/N! How are you today?” Ned asked nervously. He was fiddling with his hands and didn’t make direct eye contact with you. Ned was a bit of a mess when he wasn’t working. He was more hesitant and passive. When he was in surgery, however, it was a completely different story. He took charge on many cases that no one else could. MJ was confident with whatever she did. However, she needed to polish up on her empathy and patience when it came to other people. “Me? I’m doing great! Sun’s shining, birds are singing, you know?”

You sighed. “You already told MJ didn’t you?”

“. . . Yes.”

“Told MJ what exactly?” Peter piped up.

“Dr. L/N answered your phone this morning with this deep, groggy voice,” Ned whisper yelled.

“Woah, did you two sleep together?” MJ asked with a teasing smirk on her face.

“I wish,” you heard Peter mumble. Wait, what? It seemed like Ned and MJ heard that too and started grinning like mad men while Peter blushed an even deeper red than he did earlier.

You tried to collect your thoughts on the current situation. Right now, you had three very loud little shits on your hands and had two major surgeries booked within the next eight hours.

“Peter knocked on my door at three in the morning and asked if he could stay the night,” you said. “Nothing happened.”

There was a lingering statement in the air.

“Does he know?” Ned asked.

“I think he knows,” MJ said.

“Yes, he knows,” Peter sighed.

“Wait, how long have you guys known?” you asked. It just now struck you that you had a superhero for an intern who could one day land himself, MJ, and Ned into the ER.

“Since high school,” said MJ.

“Look, we’ll talk more during our lunch break, okay? For now, no one says anything about Peter and me. All right?” You hissed.

They all nodded.

“Bye, Y/N,” Peter said. He didn’t seem to realize that he called you by your first name, and you raised your eyebrow at his retreating figure.

“Woah, can we call you Y/N, too?” Ned asked. You glared at him, and he got the message, scurrying to his assigned patients.

“Fifteen minutes down, ten hours to go,” you muttered, heading to the Operating Room.

You groaned, stretching your neck and arms. That surgery overlapped fifteen minutes into your lunch time, but it was worth it. Walking out of an OR, having done a successful surgery, always made you feel so alive. Now, you had to get one of your interns to check on them. It would probably be Peter because this woman was a particularly sensitive case, and Peter was the best when it came to human interaction.

“Come on, Y/N,” Peter said. He grabbed your hand as you were walking out of the OR and started to pull you away from the cafeteria. What made you feel more alive, though, was Peter. You never thought you’d like someone’s company as much as you liked his.

Once again, you didn’t correct him on his formality, but you probably should’ve said something. “This is where we eat. The cafeteria food isn’t that good or healthy, so we buy our food and come here.”

It was almost magical. There were soft lights strewn throughout an abandoned room with a few succulents and other low maintenance plants in the corners. A circular table sat in the middle with a ruby red table cloth adorned with flowers. There were four take out containers spread out in the appropriate places. In the chairs surrounding it sat Ned and MJ. Peter was still holding your hand, you mouth slightly open in wonderment. He led you into a seat between him and MJ, letting go of your hand.

“Don’t you think if someone found this, they’d be a little weirded out by all the Spiderman pictures?” you teased.

“We could just say it’s a fan club,” Ned said. He took a sip of his water.

“It’s odd for three, twenty-nine year olds and a thirty-one year old to be in a superhero fanclub isn’t it?”

“We got the food from this awesome Italian place called Carmine’s. They have the best food in New York,” MJ said, changing the subject. She opened her container, and the smell of fresh mozzarella and tomatoes drifted through the air.

“I almost feel bad for you guys having to pay for my lunch,” you said. The pesto was heavenly, and you could tell the basil was fresh.

“Almost?” Peter asked, taking a bite of his own food.

“If you guys weren’t such little shits sometimes, then maybe I would feel bad.” They simply laughed it off, but you were serious. Some, most days they would wear you out by causing so much mischief. You haven’t had a proper sleep schedule since they started as interns, and it was really taking a toll on you.

You ate your food in silence, slightly rushing to have time for important talks. It was the best lunch you’ve had in a while.

“So, about you being my roommate,” you said. “What are you going to tell your Aunt May? I doubt you could tell her that you wanted to start being independent after all these years.”

“You could tell her that you two are dating.” Fuck you, Ned.

“Yes! That’s a fantastic idea!” MJ exclaimed. I’m actually going to commit murder.

“How about we go on a real date?” Peter asked hopefully. It came as a shock to you. Usually, you were the more daring one.

Your motor skills started to malfunction as you tried to get the right words out. You stuttered terribly until you shouted a, “YES!

“I’ll pick you up at eight tonight. You know, after you come get your car and clothes from my place.” You gave him a swift kiss on his lips and dashed out of the room. Before you got far, you went back. Peter was a blushing mess while Ned and MJ were staring at the spot where you were with their jaws practically touching the floor. “Also, don’t call me Y/N while we’re at work, Dr. Parker.”

You heard one collective “woah” from all three interns as you walked to your next surgery, a grin adorning your features.

Part 2

#peter parker #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #spiderman homecoming #marvel #marvel x male reader #avengers #surgeons #male reader #male reader insert #avengers x male reader

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lilaflyy · 6 years

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Fictober Day 5 - “Take what you need.”

I really like this one because Preciosa, after Maddy, is also one of my favourite characters. I know I’m being unfair to Sunny and Drako here, but they can be my OTP for all I care, the best single characters are still Maddy and Preciosa! <3

character info: Preciosa is Draco's twin sister who lives in Milan (Italy) and is a model. She is utterly wasted in that setting though since she actually is a brilliant strategist.

PS: I was in Meran (Italy) in August for an afternoon and it was very nice there! <3 I went to the same café that I described and I also got a pistachio-hazelnut sundae while my father complained about the dangers of pistacio nuts :’D

Preciosa

Meran was a nice city if you liked small towns in the north of Italy. I personally appreciated the cafés and the view of the river Passer. The elegant designs of the street lamps combined with the white benches in between the trees on the side of the river made for a nice place to stop and sit down for a bit.

While my parents would be furious to find out how far away from Milan I was, this little day trip had still been necessary. Three hours of a car journey later and I was enjoying a well-deserved breath of fresh air and the soothing sound of the water. I did not expect anyone to recognize me, sunglasses or not since there were a lot of models in this world and while famous, I was still just one of many.

“How is it going sorella gemella?” Well, at least one person seemed to recognize me. At least there was no doubt to his identity and his presence was a welcome one. He was the reason I had travelled up here in the first place.

“Stressful but I won’t complain,” I replied without taking my view off the rushing water below. He sat down on the bench next to me, leaning his head on my shoulder.

“Won’t or can’t? Go ahead and vent if you want, I won’t tell anyone,” he offered and I both heard and felt his grin. It drew a smile out of me too.

“Maybe another time il fratellino. You’re here because of something else.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a good brother.”

I let out a laugh and shook my head.

“You don’t ever change, do you?”

“More than I’d like to, but that’s not what I was getting at. I really hate to ask, you know that, but…I need a favour.”

“You know, when it would be some other rich family and I’d hear that the daughter’s brother only ever comes to see her when he needs a favour, I would say he’s exploiting her,” I said. Had he been anyone else or had I been anyone else, he would have defended himself and denied it, but my brother was my brother, so he just sat there and chuckled.

“Well, yeah. Seems like you got me after all.”

“I have always been the smarter one of us two.”

“Which is unfair, since one would think that twins each get an equal share.”

“You’re smart enough on your own accord. I’m just better.” I had missed the friendly teasing. Sarcastic comments and jabs being thrown back and forth in a loving way only siblings could. It felt like I was complete again after a long while of only existing as a half. What some people said about twins being two parts of a whole seemed true to us, which made the forced separation even worse.

“Anyway, whatever you want can surely also be discussed in a café. I just drove three hours and look forward to a sundae. I saw a nice little café with a view of the fields and mountains just at the other side of the river, so come on,” I said and stood up without another word. When he started walking beside me, I hooked my arm with his and threw him a knowing grin.

“So, I have been hearing rumours and now I’m curious if they are true.”

“If by ‘rumours’ you mean things Rylon told you, then don’t believe a word of it.”

“It is still the first time I have ever heard even remotely something along the lines of ‘Draco found a girlfriend’.” When he blushed, I knew that there had to be at least some fragment of truth at it.

“I…uh…she’s not my girlfriend,” Draco stammered and I could only hardly hold back a mischievous snicker. Teasing my brother was way more fun than strategically predicting the outcomes of social events.

“Let’s say that’s true, then what is it that makes her different from the other girls you never even glanced at?”

He sighed. “First off, she knows things she should not know and she also meddles in things that are not her business.”

“Interesting,” I said as I got the meaning behind what he was saying. So, this girl, whoever she was, knew about faeries and interfered with strictly non-human things. Daring. I had to commend her on it; to do what I could not do.

“She sounds like quite the catch. What’s the holdup?” I asked further as we crossed the bridge, which curiously seemed to be half in construction.

“First off, she hates me,” Draco said and I could not hold back the snort.

“Fair point. I like her already.”

Draco just rolled his eyes. “Secondly, she thinks of me as two separate people and can’t even remember half of our interactions most of the time.”

Well, my brother was still a hopeless idiot. Despite what he might say, he really had not changed much over the years. What he had said translated itself to me as: “I keep talking to her as ‘Phoenix’ and of course she can’t remember that, but she hates ‘Draco’.”

“Well, no offence, but that sounds reckless.”

“I never said it was an easy situation to be in. On the one hand I have to do what I have to do, but on the other hand I have to keep her out of harm’s way because she’s about to get herself killed one of these days.”

“So, you have a thing for the stubborn yet brave ones. Gotta remember that for the next time I plan to play matchmaker.”

Draco groaned. “Please not you too! Rylon is already on the case and he has even gotten himself some enthusiastic help. It would be nice to have someone who is on my side for a change.”

“It’s my meaning of life to tease you, you know that,” I said with a shrug as we neared an empty table at the café and I sat down. Draco followed suit and pushed the menu over to me.

“You don’t want anything?” I asked, knowing that his journey here had been much longer and much more stressful than mine. If anyone deserved some sweet treat, then it was him.

“I’ll order you a Latte Macchiato if you don’t choose for yourself,” I warned him while I went through the selection of sundaes.

“Sure, do that,” he said as he glanced into the distance. His mood had shifted suddenly and I knew better than to disturb him while he was like this.

We spent some time in a comfortable silence until a waitress came over to us, asking in German for our order. I replied in Italian, ordering a pistachio hazelnut sundae and, as threatened, a Latte Macchiato for my brother.

“You do know that you can get cancer from pistachio nuts, right?” Draco asked and I just rolled my eyes.

“Eating them once a year or so won’t kill me,” I replied, being used him worrying about my frail mortal body. There had been a time where we have been the same, but that was almost ten years ago when we had still been kids. Ever since he had found out about the curse and knew that the same would happen to me if my life would meet a sudden end, he had become frantic about preventing it. Under no circumstances would he let me go through the suffering he had endured. It would have been sweet if it had not become repetitive and even a little annoying over the years. It had ranged from things like ‘please don’t go skydiving or freeclimbing’ to now ‘don’t eat pistachio nuts’.

“Anyway, we are seated and I guess we both have to go back to Milan and the UK respectively soon, so better say what you came here for now before we run out of time.”

“This might sound stupid, but…I need a car.”

I had not expected that.

“You’re right, it does sound stupid. With how often you move it would really be a hassle, wouldn’t it? Except you’re now telling me that you intend to stay in England for longer than a year.”

“You know I can’t promise anything like that, but I’m planning to, yes.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay? Just like that?” Draco asked. He apparently had thought that it would have taken some more convincing to get me to agree.

“I said it to you years ago and I’m saying it again: Take what you need.” It had been something we had agreed on when he had first needed to move away. Moving was expensive and so was living in general. I had been more than willing to help him out with a little money. What he needed to live and function was honestly not more in the drop in the fortune of our family. It would not even be missed. Draco could just take whatever he needed and I would make sure that it would not be noticed. This was our deal and it had worked very well so far.

“It has to be a black and inconspicuous car though. I don’t want to draw a lot of attention,” Draco said, knowing better than to further question my motives.

“Consider it done,” I said just as the waitress with his coffee and my sundae arrived.

“Alright, so you have grilled me about Sunny, so it’s only fair that I return the favour,” Draco said as a poured a small package of sugar into his beverage.

“Her name is Sunny, huh?” I just replied with a smug grin while spooning some pistachio ice cream. Seeing Draco freeze for a moment when he realised what he had let slip was amusing to watch. He quickly regained his composure and threw me a grin back.

“So, tell me, when Rylon is so generous about giving you information about me, I wonder what else you two are talking about.” I let no emotion slip over my face but internally I panicked just a little.

“That is none of your business,” I, therefore, said, buying time to collect myself and think of something appropriate to say. Draco chuckled and I did not like the grin on his face. It was what I had dubbed his faerie-grin since it gave me an eerie and uneasy feeling.

“Really? Because just last week he said something about his girlfriend being an Italian model.”

I almost spit out my ice cream. The shock must have been written on my face for a moment though because my brother’s grin just grew. My uncaring façade slipped on a second later though and I cleared my throat.

“Tell him that I am very capable of committing a murder where one would ever find his body.”

#Lila's writing #Unseen #drabble #fictober18 #Preciosa #Drako | Phoenix

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bravonovel · 3 years

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Playing With The Heart novel read online - Evan Hollen and Jasmine - Bravonovel

Playing With The Heart

Blurb : "What happened last night was a mistake. We both had too much to drink and one thing led to another. It was an act of alcohol and nothing more. I don't have any feelings for you whatsoever. You're my employee and that's all you'll ever be." - Evan Hollen Taking in his father's footsteps, Evan Hollen became successful and the new CEO of Hollen Tower at the age of twenty five. His handsome features made him a catch with the ladies, and he played the field with them because he wanted nothing more. He was heartless and selfish. But, through his arrogance and egotistical ways, his assistant developed a strong liking to him. And, one fateful night together, everything changed.

Playing With The Heart novel is a romance story about Evan Hollen and

Jasmine, written by Mavelinebelle.

You can read this novel online on Bravonovel and keep track of the latest chapters

Read novel Playing With The Heart chapter 1

Jasmine’s POV

“This can’t be the proposition she was going on and on about for weeks with her annoying ass voice which always makes my damn ears ring! Miss. Rhino can’t be serious!

This has absolutely no benefits nor profits behind it and as matter of fact, if we invest, we would be at a loss!

I’m not interested in this.

Why the hell I hired her?”

He looked at the documents in the folder on his desk I had brought in for him by his Chief Operating Officer, Miss. Rhino.

“Get Ms. Rhino on the line and instruct her to find herself in my office immediately!”

“Yes sir,” I answered sharply.

“And Miss. Blackman, reorganize my schedule for the upcoming week. Cancel that nonsensical meeting with Mr. Hoggers since I’m not interested in investing one billion dollars in his shitty business.

Also, fax those documents to the sixth level and proof read these for me before one p.m.

And can you send Julia a bouquet of white roses with a note attach to it which reads ′thank you′ and get my father on the line,” he ordered although it may sound like he was asking me.

I nodded yes and took two stacks of paper from his hands and exited his office immediately.

I called Miss. Rhino and informed her that she was needed in Mr. Hollen’s office.

“Sir, your father is on line one,” I said to him through the phone once I had phoned his father.

“Mmmh,” he answered back and took the other line.

I ordered the bouquet of white roses and had it delivered over to Julia’s apartment and began faxing the documents to the sixth level as he said.

Afterwards, I began to proofread the other stack of papers he had given me. I would call Mr. Hoggers lastly because I knew he would request to speak to Mr. Hollen directly and since he was on the phone with his father, and Miss. Rhino was on the way to see him, he wouldn’t appreciate being distracted by Mr. Hoggers’ call.

Evan Hollen was my boss and a very successful, rich and powerful one. I had been working for the company for a total of one year. Finishing college, it was a dragged finding a decent job that paid well within my city but luckily for me, I applied to Hollen Tower when I saw an ad in a newspaper for a personal assistant role.

Hollen Tower was established and operated by his father before him. The company was one of the most successful and well developed organization over the globe. Great Cooperative, solid partnerships and a body of well educated and experienced and trained staff took the company to its highest peak and Evan Hollen stood above it with his father’s relinquished crown and well-deserved titles. He would be damned if someone tried to damage what his father started and worked so hard for. He had the temper of a shark, the personality of a dragon and the untimely patience of a baby.

But let’s not forget about his best features. His dark silver grey eyes were everything.

His sexy lean body always carved sharply in his expensive Armani suits.

Okay, you got me. I had the biggest and most unstoppable crush on my boss and I couldn’t help myself.

Evan Hollen was too fine not to have a crush on.

It’s okay to have a secret crush on a very attractive man, right?

Even if he is your boss?

“Miss. Blackman! Can I be buzzed in please?”

A voice snapped me right out of my lustful thoughts.

Miss. Rhino was at my desk, pencils and folders in hands and tapping her left foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

“Yes, one moment please,” I responded, putting the images of my boss to the far back of my mind.

I called Mr. Hollen’s line and informed him that she was here. After he told me to let her in, I hit the buzzer and she strolled into his office with her head held high. She always thought she was above everyone else working at Hollen Tower.

I hated the best bone in that woman. She was a tall, slim woman with pale cream skin. She was thirty years of age but she liked younger men like Mr. Hollen. There was once a rumour circulating about the two of them but I found that very hard to believe. She still had the body of a model but she was utterly not his type. The woman had a personality of a beast and she thought she was better than everyone in the company, except Mr. Hollen of course. She possessed a high job position, she was the COO after all, but she still had to answer to Mr. Hollen.

I continued to proofread the documents in front of me, making the necessary changes and corrections. I enjoyed my job because it made life easier for Mr. Hollen. He had a personal assistant but he fired her on the spot when she developed feelings for him and began flirting with him in his office and since then, he hadn’t hired another one. I was the one doing the duties a personal assistant ought be doing plus my secretarial duties, but I didn’t mind or complained one bit in view of the fact that I was being paid double my monthly salary until he hires another personal assistant.

He should get a male assistant who doesn’t have a thing for the handsome boss.

The ladies always lusted and drooled over him, always wanted his attention and time, always talked about him. He was indeed handsome, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever laid my eyes on. His skin tone was perfectly tanned and I always wondered why.

Is his mom a black woman...or does he have black people in his family?

He doesn’t talk about his parents much and he doesn’t like the beach and the outdoors much either, so why the naturally tanned skin?

Half an hour later, I was already finished. I was a quick but assertive employee. I had to be because the boss hated it when his employees were skylarking on the job or persons not meeting his deadlines.

My deadline was one p.m.

I looked up at the wall clock; it showed fifteen minutes to one.

Then Miss. Rhino barged out of his office and stormed passed me with a frown and unpleasant look on her face.

I peeled myself off the chair and knocked on his office door afterwards.

“Come in Miss. Blackman,” he spoke.

His voice was the ‘Shawn Mendes’ to my ears. I heaved a smile and walked into his office.

“Here are the papers you asked me to proofread. I’ve made the necessary changes and corrections for you. Before I leave for lunch, I would get Mr. Hoggers on the phone because I strongly believe he would request to speak to you.”

“Mmmh. I’ve been thinking about something,” he began, leaning back in his big leather chair and stared at me with those beautiful, grey, luminous orbs.

I gulped my fear but his eyes were easy to read. One thing I had quickly learnt when I began working here, was that his eyes were a tell.

I avoided trouble, getting mixed up with gossips and falling in with the wrong crowd. I couldn’t afford to lose my job any time soon. It paid very well and my mom and my younger sister were depending on me.

Mom had a lung failure condition.

My younger sister was still in college and depended on me financially to put her through. It was just us living together at my apartment in the city.

Recently, my mother’s condition had gotten worse but with the medication and treatment I was managing to pay for, she always pulled through and felt better again.

“How would you like to be my personal assistant and I’ll hire someone to fill your place?”

I was dumbfounded for a moment.

Me? As his personal assistant?

I would be honoured.

PA’s had a higher salary than the basic secretary and I couldn’t do both jobs forever so obviously I was going to pick the one with the higher income behind it.

It wasn’t just about the money though, I had the knowledge, skills and levels to be his Personal Assistant and that was what I had applied for at the very beginning but the position had already been filled, however since my resume was so impressive and captivating, Mr. Hollen didn’t want me to work anyway else but Hollen Tower so he hired me as his secretary.

I worked my tail off in high school and all throughout college. I hardly had time for boyfriends and dates and fun. My mom had the lung condition since the beginning of my high school year but it wasn’t that bad back then as it was now. She managed to work and she supported me in every way a child needed support from their parent. I never knew my dad and mom never talked about him much, she would only mention him when I asked about him but as I grew older, I saw the pain in her eyes every time so I stopped when I understood what he had done.

Bottom line, she was there for me so now it was my turn to be there for her. If I could make enough money, we could afford to get rid of her condition permanently.

“Thank you Mr. Hollen and I accept,” I said to him as I beamed a bright smile.

He nodded and gestured for me to leave his presence. He was a man of very few words, he only spoke to me when he was commanding and he hated repeating himself to people, even to his father and the women he dated.

Don’t get me started on those women he usually dated. He was always spotted with famous celebrities or they were frequently throwing themselves at him like prostitutes.

The last one he dated, he dumped her because she was annoying and nagging and always popped up at his office without notice. He hated those things in a woman and whenever he was done with them, he sent them white roses.

I don’t get why he does it. Roses are nice flowers so wouldn’t it just lead the women on even more?

I took my purse and changed into my flats and went to lunch. I always changed my heels when I left the office. I hated heels, they hurt my feet so much but Hollen Tower had a dress code requirement one must abide by or else one would be out on their ass and searching for another job without recommendation or references from the company.

As I walked out, Julia Starlet, a famous movie actress and the woman Mr. Hollen already dumped this morning, walked in.

......

Continue to read the chapter 2 of the novel Playing With The Heart

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