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stardustskz · 3 years

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Smile, For it Suits You

Title: Smile, for it suits you

Word count: 3.1k

Genre: best friends au, fluff, holiday au

Warnings: alcohol, drinking, sickness, typo errors (lmk of there are more)

Member: jeongin

Description: the four times Yang Jeongin ruined your new year’s and the one time you ruined his’

Notes: dedicated to @jeonginks for @districtninewriters ‘s winter exchange fic. first of all, i’m so sorry for it’s late. i was wondering on whether posting it on new year’s eve or on the morning of january 1st but thought of doing the latter. happy holidays eiko! i hope you had a blast holiday and i hope that you’ll like this one, i tried putting as much into it!

ps. i forgot if there are any word count limit, i’m so sorry if there are

pps. i’m so b=nervous posting this idk why

There’s this superstitious belief that has been going on every January 1st and you neither disagree or agree with it. Okay, scratch that… you are sensitive about it. Ever since your grandmother told your eight year old mind about it, you always made sure to make your first days of every year perfect.

The following year, you were cautious of your entire January 1st as your parents took you out to the local theme park to celebrate the new year. The day went well with the self reminders that your young mind whispers every time you were about to lose your composure due to the small things that irk you. You went to every extreme ride that you like– perks of having the height to fool the staff for your age. You even won plushies multiple times from the crane machine and the huge human-sized bear that your father got you as a prize in that one fishing game.

Night time was fast approaching when you decided to have an ice cream without your parents' assistance. Because you were in the age of bragging about how independent you've become seeing to it that you’ll be adding a number to your age in the following months. It was successful! You bought your chocolate coated vanilla ice cream after telling the vendor to have a happy new year. You’re on your way back to where your parents sat on a bench when you saw a boy running fast towards your direction. Your first instinct was to move away from his pathway but it seems that your mind and body forgot how to process your intentions as you fell on your butt, causing your ice cream to fall on the ground as well as stain the lower part of your favorite jacket.

"Hey!" you called out to the boy who was now about a meter away from you. Your calm and optimism for that day gone. Because he didn’t even apologize or bother to stop from his tracks.

The boy came to a halt from his frantic running, turned around, and yelled back,

"I'm sorry! But I'm really in a hurry!" he then looked at you apologetically then continued running to god knows where. And oh boy, you were so annoyed as he turned out to be Yang Jeongin from your class. Your everyone-loves-and-adores-him classmate. Everyone falls for his stupid cheeky smile and almost everyone in your class has a huge crush on him. Which is you think, stupid, you were all in fourth grade, how does one know who to like? After that incident your day went sliding downwards, from getting scolded by your parents for ruining your white shirt to losing your favorite hanky from riding the Vikings and you only have one person to blame and it was and still is, Yang Jeongin.

ii.

Quite opposite from your dislike towards Yang Jeongin, you gained the ‘honor’ to be his best friend during 7th grade. It just… happened. When Han Jisung decided to be a dear who made you audition, forcefully, for your school’s theatre club, it so happened that Jeongin was a part of it too.

Now, during your junior year in high school, you were currently in one of your senior Minho’s parties before the new year. You were in the middle of talking to Jisung and Jeongin when you felt your surroundings started to spin,

"Hey, I'll just use the bathroom for a bit" you said, excusing yourself from all the talking. You don’t have a clue why you’re feeling nauseous when you only had a cup or two of what seems to be a soda, well, it tastes like it.

"You okay?" Jeongin asked, his tone laced with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine" you replied, starting your way to where the comfort room was. It was when you started throwing out all the contents of your stomach when you felt a hand on your back, patting it in a calming manner while their other hand puts away the stray strands of your hair from your face.

"Is this what you call fine? I thought you won’t drink tonight?" he jokingly said, chuckling a bit by your earlier tough act.

"Well, yeah I also thought I wouldn’t." you rolled your eyes at him through the mirror by the sink after you gargled with water. Maybe it wasn’t just a soda after all. You glanced at the door, furrowing your brows when you noticed that it was closed.

"You closed the door?" you asked him.

"Yeah? I did?" he said innocently.

"There's a reason I left it open dumbass" you said, trying to call out for help but of course people wouldn't hear you due to the loud, obnoxious music blasting by the speakers in the living room, you even heard people shouting.

"Oh… I didn't see the sign?" Jeongin said, a bit unsure of himself. Truthfully, he doesn't remember seeing it but he may have forgotten that Jisung told him something about not closing a door because the lock was not working well. Maybe this is the door he was talking about. Jeongin pondered.

It was dreadfully silent, but it was a comfortable one, with you frustrated of how the fuck are you both gonna get out before the countdown. You left your purse with Jisung containing both your phones. There’s no way you’ll be able to get out unless Jisung remembers the absence of your presence and he probably won’t do that until after the countdown. Because Jisung tends to get overly excited about fireworks that he’ll forget that you and Jeongin aren’t back yet.

"5 minutes until the countdown, are we really spending our new year here?" you asked, a bit sad to miss the fireworks display and spend your first minutes of the new year inside a bathroom. What a way to start the year.

"I’m sorry, we’re stuck here" Jeongin said, cautious of whether you’re mad or not. You went closer to where Jeongin sat inside the bathtub, planning to sit beside him.

“I’m not mad, just… annoyed?” You said, sitting beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, maybe it was the alcohol or how comfortable you were around your best friend but you soon drifted to a deep slumber after hearing the fireworks explode outside, remembering to greet Jeongin a “Happy New Year, Jeongin” before completely shutting down.

And if Jisung said something about you getting locked last year in Minho's bathroom and only managing to get out the following year, as if it’s a good joke, you definitely punched him for it.

iii.

The news of Jeongin and his family moving to your neighborhood the following year surprised you. Of course you were ecstatic about it, even more when you saw their moving truck beside your house. You were about to be neighbors! Ever since then, you’ve been spending most of your time with Jeongin, more than what you both used to, your moms also got a lot closer. Which is why they decided to celebrate New Year’s Eve with both families.

A few hours before the countdown, you decided to hide away in your room, deciding to sleep before the clock strikes 12 because you sure are exhausted by all the preparations. You were lying in your bed with your feet dangling at the bottom, the happenings from earlier that day flashing in your mind. You heard the door to your room opened but you didn’t even bother to look at who it is.

“Everyone’s looking for you” Jeongin’s familiar voice said. He went closer to your figure only to see that you have your eyes closed, he thought that you’re already asleep,

“I’m tired, let me sleep for a while.” you said, eyes still closed. You tapped the space beside you signaling for him to sit there if he wants. However, Jeongin chose to lie down beside you. And you never opposed it.

“Wake me up before the countdown.” you said, tiredness completely settling in your system, the hazy figures in your mind beginning to be more vivid as your dream completely took over your consciousness.

Jeongin rolled his eyes at your command, but he will anyway. Turning on his side, his sharp looking gaze softened as his eyes landed on you. He carefully watched how your eyes are now closed, with your lashes curled adorably. You look like an angel whenever you’re sleeping. You were never this peaceful looking when you’re awake because you're the type to furrow your brows more than smile on a daily basis. But right now, your brows are not furrowed even in the slightest bit and the corners of your lips are lightly pointing upwards, a sign that maybe, you’re having a good dream. It continued like this when Jeongin realized that he’s also falling asleep, and even falling harder, as he kissed the night with a goodbye as well.

You both completely missed the countdown but it wasn’t like you were mad about it. When you woke up the next morning, with your best friend still beside you, you figured it was a shame to not witness the fireworks display for two years in a row but you had a great time with finally sleeping for more than eight hours.

Despite that, yes, you still blame Jeongin.

iv.

It was the first time that you’ll be spending your new year in a different place than your own home. You were already in your third year in college and your group of friends decided to spend your new year at a vacation house near the provinces of your country. Of course, your parents only allowed you to go if Jeongin would be there and thank god you both are in the same circle of friends.

The original plan was to go together as a group and ride Chan’s van all throughout your three day escapade. However, you have to attend a family gathering in the morning of December 31st, which was the reason why you were left with Jeongin and his truck. You had everything prepared, from the music for the road trip to the snacks that you two bought from your shopping two days prior. And the only thing left is the long journey. Your friends already arrived at the destination by the time you and Jeongin left your place. You were both jamming to different genres of songs, with you feeding Jeongin a chip or two from time to time,

“You can sleep, you know, we still have a long way.” Jeongin said, glancing at you as you yawn from the passenger’s seat.

“No, no. I can’t leave you for yourself. You can also get sleepy anytime soon.” You said, cautious of possible incidents that may occur.

“Suit yourself y/n” He said, as you blasted an even livelier song on his radio.

You were both listening to ‘Wannabe’ with Jeongin doing the shoulder dance and his eyes almost disappearing due to all the smiling and singing when the car slowed down in a not so good manner, as you think.

“What’s happening?” you asked him, maybe panicking for a bit because you were both currently in the middle of nowhere and the sun was already setting.

“I don’t exactly know,” Jeongin said, his bright smile no longer visible as he stared down on the steering wheel, wondering what the fuck is wrong with his truck.

“It won’t start.” he said, after a few attempts of once again turning on the car’s engine.

“I should go find help somewhere nearby.” you said, because clearly, your phone’s signal isn’t working as well.

“No, we should go together, it’s dangerous,” he said preparing to get off the car as well

“Help me push the car to the side of the road first.” he added, then you both worked on it.

After grabbing all your important belongings, you both started walking forward, continuing the path of the road in hopes of seeing a gas station or an apparel or something.

“I feel like I brought upon misfortune with you whenever we celebrate the new year together.” Jeongin said, probably blaming himself for what just happened.

“It’s not like we can control everything that’s happening around us.” you replied, looking at Jeongin’s sullen expression.

“Hey! Don’t frown, you look like someone who’ll eat me up alive” you told him. Well, he’s not particularly frowning but Jeongin’s scary whenever he’s not smiling. You noticed the sky slowly get dark and you managed to get sight of something bright at the road ahead.

“Still, I’m sorry this happened, y/n.” he said, coming to a stop only to lock his gaze on yours to sincerely apologize.

“Stop apologizing dumbass, look I can see something ahead.” you said, mirroring his gaze and smiling as brightly as you can. Jeongin has been your support ever since you two have been attached to the hip. His bright personality is so much of a contrast to your snarly, hostile and strong attitude. And he brightens up your day almost everyday even though he can also annoy the hell out of you. But still, you can’t bring yourself to hate or get mad at him. Because a single smile from Jeongin, all your irritations and annoyance will surely melt away. It just does. The moment Jeongin smiled at you, with his cheeky grin that managed to show his dimples, as a reply, and nodded in agreement and determination, to walk towards where you were pointing out, all your worries for that night went away. Together with your belief that all new years are supposed to be spent in a perfect manner. Because this time, although you spent your new year by the parking lot of the gas station that you both found, you don’t blame Jeongin for all the things that went wrong in that specific year. And at the very least, you get to spend it with the person you cherish the most.

“Why did you decide to spend your January 1st with me dumbass” you asked him, as you opened the door to your dorm, thanking your roommate who went home for the holidays.

“Well, my also, ‘dumbass’ best friend stayed at the dorms for the holidays and worked themselves up because of finals and now they can’t go home due to a very high fever.” he rambled. You finally let him in because you can already feel your limbs giving up on you.

“Look! You can’t even stand up on your own!” Jeongin scolded, wrapping his arm around you while he escorted you back to your bedroom. He managed to tuck you in your bed and placed a cooling pad on your forehead before he quickly left for the kitchen, without saying a word. Minutes later, he came back with a bowl of porridge in between his hands.

“You can cook?” you teased.

“Eat.” he said, his expression was serious so you had no choice than to immediately oblige on his command, yes, he was mad and you are kinda scared of this type of Jeongin. You quickly finished it and took the medicine that he gave.

“Do you not have any other plans today?” you asked him, your voice almost a whisper.

“Someone ruined my original plans for me.” he said with his tone a bit more harsh than usual.

“If that someone was me then I don’t need you here.” you said, irritated by his tone, you turned around to face the other side of your bed in order to avoid seeing him. Jeongin must have figured out that you’re mad at him, due to the change of your tone. He took a deep sigh,

“It’s not like that,” he started.

“I already warned you a week ago about overworking yourself and look where it brought you!” he said, his voice now more calm than before,

“And check your phone please.” he added. Your phone? You haven’t checked your phone since last night due to this stupid fever and apparently- Oh. There are multiple calls and texts from him.

“I asked auntie regarding your whereabouts and I knew from her that you’re down with fever because I thought you went home yesterday morning, to make it in time for new year’s eve.” Jeongin said, you turned around again with your guilt forming because you forgot to tell him.

“I was worried, y/n. I prepared something for you last night, we were supposed to-” you cut him off,

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you,” you said, trying to find his gaze,

“Are you mad?” you asked, taking his hand that was resting on his sides.

“N-no, I’m not. I just-” he took another sigh, “I was just so worried, we can continue whatever road trip I prepared for us anytime this year just please don’t disappear on me again.” he said, more like, begged as he held your hand between his’.

“Okay,” you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“I won’t do it again, now please smile?” you asked, hoping for him to please just smile again.

Because did he just see you act cute in front of him? Apparently, yes.

“Oh my god okay!” he said and laughed out loud.

“Don’t do that again, this is why I’m the cute one between us!” he said, holding his abdomen for his dear life from laughing too much. You frowned. But this is better.

“I’m sorry for ruining your first day of the year.” you said, because he wouldn’t be able to go out as he chose to take care of you.

“It’s fine, I intended to spend it with you in the first place” he said, still recovering from the good laugh that he just experienced.

“Wait, so you’re supposed to take me to star gazing?!” you asked, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah? I’m sure my truck won’t fail me this time but you did.” he said, you’ve been bothering him about this request of yours since last year due to his car ruining new year for the both of you.

“Hey! You already forgave me for that!” Jeongin only laughed and told you to go rest and sleep already. At first, you refused to, but you remembered that you’re still down with a fever and your body gave up on you already. But that day, you fell asleep with a smile on your face. All these time, from the previous years that you had until now, you were searching for perfection for all your first days of the year. However what or rather, who you really need is someone that would stay with you no matter how much misfortune you get. And gladly, you have a dumbass of a best friend for that.

#districtninewriters #skzwritersclub #yang jeongin #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #stray kids fluff #fluff #jeongin #i.n. stray kids #bang chan #lee know #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #kim seungmin #seo changbin #stray kids drabbles #winter exchange fic

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Hellsing Ch. 70-76

I guess anything I say here is a spoiler, so yeah, this is “Heart of Dreams”, “Relics”, “Heart of Iron”, and the arc “Finest Hour”. Oh, and “Lunatic Dawn”. Gotta lotta ground to cover. Treacherous ground.

Not a whole lot to say about Anderson’s death. He tried to become a monster using one of the Holy Nails from the True Cross, and then Alucard defeated him anyway, once Seras gave him a little help and a reason to go on living. Alucard was pretty upset about Anderson’s demise, but Anderson says a few soothing words, and reminds him that Al only became a vampire because he couldn’t stand being a human, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense for him to cry now.

So yeah, as determined as Anderson was to kill Alucard, he’s a pretty good sport about losing this fight, and he seems to genuinely pity the man. He wonders how long Alucard will go on living with his regrets, and Al replies “Until my expansive future shatters my expansive past.” So, if we want to take that literally, I guess he’s trying to find redemption by being a good guy to make up for his years as a bad guy. Well, he’s been a vampire for 523 years, and a servant of Hellsing for 101 of those years, so I guess maybe he figures if he trucks along for another 321 years that’d balance the scales?

And maybe I’m finally starting to appreciate some of the complexities of Alucard’s character. The Team Four Star Abridged series spent some time on his desire for redemption, but I couldn’t tell if it was based on the original material or something they came up with for their own version. For instance, the Abridged!Alucard rejected the forgiveness offered by God himself, but later Anderson spoke of his desire for redemption and Alucard didn’t dispute that. It seemed contradictory to me at the time, but the manga does seem to support that. As Vlad Tepes, he refused to ask God for anything, preferring instead to fight and drive himself and his followers to the limits of endurance and decency as proof of their faith.

I find that idea heretical, because it suggests that a person can “earn” God’s favor, or God’s forgiveness, or a place in heaven. �� Arguably, Anderson tried to do the same thing, but I think he was coming more from a place of doing zealous deeds out of gratitude for the Lord’s grace, rather than trying to earn anything he didn’t already have.

The difference with Alucard is that he seemed to be really wrongheaded about his faith, trying to use violence to become a good person. Then it didn’t work, and he became a vampire, devoted entirely to his own selfish desires, and I guess he’s spent the 20th Century realizing that he’s back where he started, trying to fight his way to redemption, only now he has centuries of red in his ledger instead of mere decades.

Oh, anyway, while this is going on, Integra takes a sword and stands it upright so it looks like a cross to mark Anderson’s death. It’s like this quiet sign of respect. I’m not sure whose sword that is, but it looks like the one Alucard was using in his Dracula persona.

Anyway, fuck all that, because Walter finally shows up and stomps the ashes of Anderson just as everyone was having their final farewell with the guy. Rude.

Young Walter just looks kind of stupid to me. Why is he still wearing the monocle? He’s trying to be 14 and 69 at the same time and failing at both.

Seras asks what Millennium did to him, but Walter makes it clear that this isn’t some brainwashing trope. He’s doing this of his own free will.

He also doesn’t consider himself loyal to Millennium. They turned him into a vampire, but he’s doing this for himself, and he’s only cooperating with them because their goals are in alignment.

Yumiko Takagi tries to kill Walter for... Was she mad at him for stomping on Anderson’s remains? I mean, Alucard’s the one who actually killed Anderson, so shouldn’t she be mad at that guy?

It doesn’t matter, because Walt just slices her into pieces with his magic filaments. Now Heinkel Wolfe wants revenge, because she was her long-time partner in assassin stuff. The TFS Abridged series implied that they were lovers, too, which seemed authentic at the time, but I’m not sure there’s any confirmation to be found in the manga itself.

But before she can take the shot, the Captain shows up and shoots Heinkel in the face. Like, through one cheek and out the other, and the only thing saving her from serious injury was that she happened to have her mouth open at the time.

Side note: I caught myself referring to Heinkel as “him”, which frustrates me because I’ve known she was a woman for like five years now. When I first watched the OVA, I was confused, becuase I could tell it was a female voice actor, but maybe that just meant he was really young, like with Schrodinger. But the Hellsing Wiki set me straight, or so I thought. I didn’t think I’d still be making this mistake.

On the other hand, Yumiko sometimes looks a lot like Goemon from Lupin III, so her wearing a nun’s habit isn’t as heteronormative as it might seem. I’m getting off-track.

You’d think this would be leading up to some big double-team on the Hellsing group, now that the Iscariots are out of the picture, but the Captain’s only stopping Heinkel so Walter can have a clear shot at Alucard. That’s the sole reason Walter turned traitor, you see. He wants to fight Alucard and win, and for the last 55 years they’ve been on the same side.

But is that all it is? I never got to read or watch “Hellsing: The Dawn”, the prequel manga Kouta Hirano created after Hellsing. I’ve heard that it never got finished, but also an anime adaptation was released with the home video release of Hellsing Ultimate Episode VIII. All I really know about it was that there was this time where Alucard and Walter were fighting the Nazis, and the Captain showed up, and Alucard ran away because he didn’t think he could beat that dude. Presumably, he left Walter to fend for himself? But all three of them survived until 1999, so I’m not sure what the outcome of that was. I always wondered if Walter held a grudge over that. But maybe I’m reaching.

There’s also a suggestion of professional jealousy. Walter was a rockstar vampire hunter in his youth, but he’s been overshadowed by Alucard, who is--let’s face it-- a living legend. This would be doubly true in the 90′s, when Integra reawakened Alucard, and Walter having to step back even further from the spotlight. The only way for him to reclaim his former glory would be to challenge the greatest of all vampires and win. He’d go down in history as a traitor, but at least he’d be cemented as the absolute best.

Or... or, you can go with the TFS version, where Walter hints at his motives, only for Alucard to take the wind out of his sails and announce “because you wanna fuck me!” And I love that theory more than any other explanation, because it just brings everything together a lot more neatly. I guess you don’t need Walter to have had a crush on Alucard for 55 years, but it’s a lot more compelling than revenge or professional jealousy. Those things have weight, sure, but they work better as distractions, the things Walter might admit to because they hide the deeper reason that he can’t bring himself to say out loud.

And it’s not entirely rejected by the manga. Alucard remarks on how much more beautiful Walter looked in his old age, compared to this treasonous knockoff vampire look he’s sporting now. The last time he spoke this way, it was when he flirted with Queen Elizabeth II. The next time he does it, it’ll be with Sir Integra when she’s in her early 50′s.

Speaking of QE2, she’s safe and sound, because the Secret Service evacuated her to a fortified location in Dover before Millennium attacked. If things get really hairy, they’re prepared to send her to Canada, and if London can’t be secured, they’ll nuke the whole city, though the Queen is certain that Integra and Alucard will win the day. The vampires acting as Millennium agents outside of London are being contained and destroyed, so things seem to be getting under some semblance of control.

However, the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, also known as the “Round Table” is down to just three surviving members. Integra’s in London, but here we have Rob Walsh and Hugh Irons, reflecting on the death of their fellow Round Tabler, Penwood.

This whole scene struck me as a complete non sequitur when I first saw it in the anime. Walter’s betrayal seemed to sudden and poorly explained that it felt like the author was just winging it by this point, and now we have these two dudes struggling to provide some justification for the twist. But reading this manga in 2021, I find that it makes a lot more sense. We’ve already seen tons of Britons in rather lofty positions, all willing to sell out their principles for a chance to become a vampire. Walter is no different from any of them. It’s just more personal when he does it because we actually know the guy.

But as Walsh discusses the utter debacle of this Millennium invasion, he deduces what we’ve just learned back in London. There must have been a traitor in their ranks, because that’s the only way Millennium could have made it this far. I mean, they just flew a bunch of giant blimps full of rockets right into British airspace. That only worked because they had traitors sabotaging the U.K.’s defenses and communications, and Hellsing was especially vulnerable at the same time.

The only thing Walsh can’t figure out is who the traitor was, since it had to be someone at the Round Table, but they’re all dead now, except for Integra, Irons, and himself.

But Irons fills in the missing pieces. It doesn’t have to have been one of the Round Table’s members, but someone close to one of the members. Years ago, Irons warned Walter about Richard Hellsing. Irons knew that when Arthur died, Richard would try to make a play for the Hellsing estate. But when Irons’ fears came to pass, Walter wasn’t there. It’s like he wanted things to play out the way they did.

But why would Walter want events to play out that way? On her own, Integra had no choice but to unseal Alucard to defend herself, and she’s kept Alucard active ever since. And now, lo and behold, Walter reveals that he turned traitor just so he could take on Alucard. It’s like he arranged for all of this to happen years in advance. But how many years? Fifty-five, Irons wonders.

It’s never explicitly confirmed, but Irons’ reasoning makes too much sense to ignore. Earlier, the Major said that he decided back in ‘44 that Walter “Angel of Death” Dornez would have been a good “get” for his side. Now, Irons is suggesting that Walter might have agreed in the same year. So maybe Walter and the Major made a secret agreement even then. It’s possible that they might have done it later, but why not in 1944?

I mean, the whole backstory here is that Millennium is a continuation of a secret Nazi Vampire project that Walter and Alucard destroyed in 1944. Except they didn’t destroy it at all, which sure makes Walter and Al seem very bad at their jobs, unless Walter let them escape and covered it up.

Meanwhile, the Captain tosses a first aid kit to Heinkel, kind of like he’s saying that he doesn’t want to kill Heinkel, but he can’t let her interfere either. We’ll talk about the Captain later.

As for Alucard vs. Walter, Al wants to check with Integra before he goes through with it. He asks for orders, repeating his big speech from when he killed all those cops in Brazil. Yeah, Walter’s a traitor, but he’s been a close mentor and advisor to Integra for all these years. Does she really want Alucard to killerize his ass?

Yes, she does. If Walter stands against them, then he’s the enemy, and Integra has already ordered Alucard to destroy the enemy, no matter who (snif!) they may be. Integra doesn’t relish this command, but she refuses to compromise over sentimental feelings.

Man, fuck you, Walter.

Then the Major lands his airship near the battlefield and invites Integra to come aboard and fight all of his remaining guys. Alucard orders Seras to join her while he deals with Walter. I can appreciate Seras’ concern here, because the last time she watched Alucard fight alone, he took a flaming bayonet to the face. She probably doesn’t care for Integra and Alucard splitting up like this.

Before she goes, she thanks Walter for all of his support, which disarms Walter for just a moment. Man, fuck you, Walter. Seras is so nice and grateful and polite and cool and you just go right ahead with your 55-years-in-the-making Nazi Vampire Jilted Lover scheme. Fuck you, Walter. You don’t deserve to be in Seras’ life.

So the gals go on board the airship and Schrodinger’s there and Integra just shoots him right between the eyes without bothering to slow down. This is maybe my favorite Integra moment in this thing. I sort of wish Kouta Hirano had done a spin-off of Integra and Seras doing cool shit like this for 30 years.

Alucard taunts Walter with the fact that he no longer gets to be a part of Inegra or Seras’ lives anymore. It sounds kind of petty, but when you think about it, it’s a pretty sick burn. Walter may have been planning this for 55 years, but he still had to live that double life, and it’s not like he can just say he was faking it the entire time.

So they fight. Walter’s magic wire powers seem to be amplified, either because of his restored youth or maybe the boost offered by vampire powers, or maybe he’s always been this strong but now he no longer needs to hold back anymore. For instance, he can make mesh screens with his wires to deflect Alucard’s bullets. And when Alucard summons that dog creature he used to dispatch Luke Valentine....

... Walter just bisects it with a flick of the wrist. You really begin to see why he was “The Angel of Death” back in his heyday.

I never understood what this dog familiar was supposed to be. Walter refers to the Hound of the Baskervilles, but as far as I know that’s just a legend confined to the Sherlock Holmes novel of the same name. But apparently that concept was based upon “black dog” folklore of the same region. There’s a whole laundry list of “black dog” apparitions in Britain alone. Black Shuck, Padfoot, Hairy Jack, Bizarro Snoopy, and so on. So I’m not sure if Hirano is saying that Alucard was the source of these legends, or if they were all based on a single creature which Alucard eventually defeated and absorbed into himself.

Al tries to use the Jackal to kill Walter, but that’s kind of stupid, since Walter designed the gun in the first place. In the anime, I thought Walter somehow triggered a bomb he had planted inside it, but maybe he used his wires to make this happen. It doesn’t really matter, because we already saw that the Casull was useless against Walter’s defenses, and not because it had smaller ammunition.

Then Luke Valentine emerges from the black dog’s body. This part never made any sense to me, but I loved how the Major recognized him, but barely. “Oh yeah, it’s that guy from Volume 2! The guy with the brother.”

The doctor suggests that when the dog was killed, this allowed Luke to reassert himself from inside the dog. Something about a “control ratio”, whatever that is. Like, he was absorbed into the dog’s mass, but now that the dog is no longer conscious, he can think for himself again. Notably, only half of Luke actually makes it out . It’s like he’s half-Luke, half dead dog monster.

But before he can do anything else, Walter puts his wires into Luke and starts controlling him like a puppet, mostly so he can use the dog half to attack Alucard.

Alucard seems more impressed than threatened. Keep in mind, Walter was doing pretty damn well against him early on. You’ll notice Alucard’s missing his right arm along with one of his guns. This is better than Anderson managed to do. So why does Walter even need this Luke-dog puppet thing in the first place?

Well, it’s because Walter’s body is giving out on him. Earlier, when the Doctor was performing the procedure to turn Walter into a vampire, he spoke about how rushed the operation was. I mean, he had to finish the whole thing in one night, after all. And Walter’s a lot more powerful than Dandyman, whom the Doctor considered his finest artificial vampire work. So maybe Walter’s just too powerful for this, and he can’t sustain this form. The Luke-dog-thing is just to keep Alucard busy while he coughs up blood.

The Major sees this development, and likens Walter to a high stakes gambler who’s mortgaged everything for a single hand at a high stakes table. Walter’s risked everything just to tangle with Alucard, and it still isn’t enough.

Alucard does manage to finish off the dog-Luke thing, and this sets him up for Walter’s next attack, and then he goes to finish him off, so things seem to be going Walter’s way...

But Alucard used a decoy, disguising Luke’s severed torso as his own, all so he could sucker-punch Walter in the face. As it turns out, Walter’s physical breakdown is making him younger, which amuses Al to no end.

So Alucard follow suits and assumes the form he once used when they fought the Nazis in 1944. Yeah, say hello to “Girlycard”. I’m not sure why Alucard looked like a 14-year-old girl during World War II. I’ve heard this form described as a Japanese 14-year-old girl, and I can’t dispute it, but it also makes Girlycard seem even more random somehow.

I mean, I guess the idea here was for Walter and Alucard to be able to move inconspicuously through enemy territory. No one would suspect a couple of kids until it was too late. I’m imagining a similar scenario to the ones presented in “Cross Fire”. Heinkel and Yumi would play innocent bystanders, then whip out their guns and swords and go ham on the bad guys. Knowing Hirano’s style, maybe Girlycard and Young Walter operated the same way.

And this further supports the Walter-had-an-unrequited-crush-on-Alucard theory. He might have understood that Girlycard was a disguise. On an intellectual level he might have known, but maybe he still carried a torch, and told himself that there was some way that they could be together. Was he just in love with this disguise, or does he love the real thing? Alucard says that he told Walter the truth decades ago, and claims that this is the reason Walter turned traitor, so yeah, it sure feels like Walter couldn’t handle Alucard’s true nature, one way or another.

I mean, let’s assume that this isn’t just about Alucard not being a cute girl. Maybe Walter fell in love with Alucard in all his forms, whatever that means for his sexuality. The bigger issue is that Alucard’s a vampire, and he’s just fundamentally different from Walter, and maybe that was the problem all along. It’s interesting to think about, but the point here would be that there was some kind of problem, and Walter couldn’t let it go.

Meanwhile, Seras and Integra are busy looking like total BMFs. Just HBIC’s. What’s better than this? Two gals bein’ pals.

Hell yeah!

Bad ass!

The vampires on board this airship are happy to meet their doom, and Integra recalls what her father once told her about how vampires want to die on their own terms. Seras doesn’t get it, because if they want to die so badly, they could have just died in the war they were already in fifty-odd years ago.

So the Major gets on the PA system and explains to her that they want more than just a glorious death. They want bigger, better, more perfect battlefield, so as to make their deaths as meaningful as possible. That’s why I don’t understand that airship captain from a while back. Everyone else in Millennium seemed to understand that they weren’t necessarily fighting to win. Britain is prepared to nuke London if they have to, so it’s hard to imagine anyone in Millennium surviving past today, even if they won.

Anyway, as the Major explains all of this, the Captain appears before the gals. It looks like he’s here to stop them, or is he?

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #alucard #seras victoria #walter c dornez #alexander anderson #heinkel wolfe #yumiko takagi #the major #the captain #warrant officer schrodinger #sir hugh irons #lt general rob walsh #luke valentine #really? luke valentine?

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averyonelovesjack · 4 years

Text

cost of friendship III ~ daniel seavey

requested: yes

hiii can we please please please have another part to parties and the cost of friendship? love love love your writing!

hey hon just requesting a third part to 'cost of friendship' with dani whenever you have the time, thanks love

Hey! I hope things are going okay! I was reading your imagines and I'm a big fan of your works! I was just wondering if you were going to post a part 3 to "cost of friendship"? Just curious :) I understand if you discontinued it/you're on a break.

summary: six months into the relationship and just in time for the holidays, daniel and y/n recognize the difficulty in spending the holidays away from each other and have to determine if it’s worth breaking the secret.

warning(s): cursing

disclaimer: i use christmas and thanksgiving as plot points in this story because it fit better with the way i wanted the story to go, but feel free to replace them with any other holidays you celebrate!!

word count: 2740

author’s note: accidentally posted this, unedited, last night with no word count and the author’s note that i wrote in december of last year when i originally made the draft and didn’t write a single word of this story:) so now that it actually makes sense to post this, here is part three to cost of friendship! thanks for all these requests even tho they were clearly from a long time ago since cost of friendship II came out TWO YEARS AGO in september. welp hope this was worth the wait lol enjoy:))

read these first: part one, part two

six months with daniel went by really quickly. the summer was honestly a lot of fun. i could spent hours at the boys’ house and nothing was suspicious about it. i grew a lot closer with them all because we spent so much time together, and it wasn’t weird for me to hang out there, and i could see daniel whenever i wanted. we really got to know each other during the summer months. i had known daniel for a while now, but getting to know him on a relationship level was really nice.

summer ended pretty quickly though and then fall came. i was back in school. i didn’t think it would be hard to see him since i was still in the ending months of school when we started dating. i think that going from so much time together over the summer to only seeing each other a few hours a week was a really hard adjustment.

we promised we’d never let our schedules be a problem, but managing a full time student’s schedule and a singer’s schedule is really difficult. i had classes monday through friday, and any time i wasn’t in class, i was doing homework. that left my only free time during the week to be late at night. so we hung out late at night, but by the time we saw each other we were usually too exhausted to really do anything other than lay around and watch a show or talk for a little bit. weekends were usually better for me, but daniel had a crazy schedule that usually had studio time incorporated on the weekend.

we still made effort to see each other all the time we could, but it wasn’t easy. i think that probably plays into my current nerves. it’s early november and the stress of the holiday season had already gotten to me.

as a kid, the holiday season was the absolute best. thanksgiving meant seeing all of my family, including my cousins who were really close in age to me. and then the stretch between thanksgiving and christmas was my absolute favorite. it was filled with christmas music, christmas decorations, buying gifts, giving gifts, getting gifts, and again, seeing family. and don’t even get me started on new years. as a kid, staying up late was the absolute best thing. the sparking cider and noise makers were all the rave.

as a much older college student now though, it was a lot less fun. the holiday season meant figuring out plans and traveling home to see my family and not knowing which part of my family was actually gonna be available. it meant buying actual meaningful or useful gifts and then figuring out how to get them home. there was still the music and the lights, but i had no time to meaninglessly drive around los angeles and see the lights or spend hours around a fireplace watching christmas movies. i didn’t even have a fireplace to begin with.

the holiday season was also much more confusing this year because i had daniel. i’ve never even had a boyfriend during the holiday season, let alone a secret boyfriend. most of the things we went out and did we could pass off as just things we’re doing as close friends, but the holidays were different. friends don’t ditch the holidays with their family just to hang out with their friends family. i don’t even know if daniel and i are at the level in our relationship, and then even if we were, i couldn’t do anything about it because keeping our relationship a secret meant not being able to do the explicitly for couples holiday stuff.

as much as i think daniel and i are ready for the family stage in our relationship, neither of us have really talked about it because there’s not really much room to do it anyways. i’ve met daniel’s siblings and parents before, but never as anything more than a friend because it was too risky to tell anyone. and daniel’s never had an excuse to come meet my family since they aren’t just down the road like his.

the secret relationship really damaged my normal holiday mood and it honestly stressed me out. i have to book my plane home soon and to do that meant that there really was no chance that i’d spend the holidays with daniel. even with us only being together half a year, daniel meant so much to me. in every other relationship i’d been in, it felt like i was waiting for the relationship to end or i at least knew that it wasn’t going to last. it was different with daniel though and that was really hard since we couldn’t even tell anyone about it.

tonight is a friday and i had finally finished my work for the week. i was invited to a party, but i didn’t really feel like going since i was pretty tired from the week and i wasn’t in a party mood. daniel texted me soon after and asked if i wanted to come over. i wasn’t really in a socialization mood, but since it was just daniel and i haven’t seen him much recently, i said yes. he even said he would pick me up which made it ten times easier to say yes because he knows i don’t like taking ubers alone and i don’t have access to a car.

daniel picked me up at about 7. i didn’t feel like getting ready so i just wore my grey sweatpants and wdw tee that daniel had gotten me for free. daniel never seemed to mind my lazy outfits and i knew as soon as we got back he would change out of his jeans too.

“hi love, how was your day?” daniel asks as soon as i get in the car. i felt a little emotionally exhausted, but so happy to see daniel. the car was like our safe space because no one was around to walk in on us and we didn’t have to hide our feelings and actions.

“exhausting, but better now that i’m seeing you.” i admit.

“at least it’s the weekend now.” daniel says. “and i went to the studio a little early today so that we won’t have to go in this weekend and i can spend more time with you.”

“really?” i ask, that news brightening my day a little. “i was just about to ask how studio was today?”

“it was good. we worked on a new christmas song today when we were finished. i don’t know if we’ll ever release it but it was a lot of fun. i’m sure you’d love it.”

“you know how i feel about christmas music.” i grin. maybe a little daniel written christmas music will brighten my spirit in these next coming weeks.

“speaking of, i feel like you haven’t played any christmas music. i swear i barely knew you this time last year as compared to now but i knew how much you loved christmas music. i feel like you played it as soon as halloween was over.” daniel mentions and as much as i wanted to hold it back and not say anything, i felt too tired to not.

“i haven’t really been in the christmas spirit.” i admit with a sigh that i knew daniel would read through.

“i know the holiday season is hard. it’s been on my mind a lot too and i was hoping it wasn’t adding to your stress, but i should’ve said something sooner because i knew it would.” daniel says, looking over and gently ok in a hand on mine.

“it’s okay.” i say. “i probably wouldn’t have even admitted it until we got to a night like tonight where i’m honestly too tired to pretend i’m not stressed.”

“i’m sorry, love. do you want to talk about it?” daniel asks.

“it’s okay, i don’t even know what to say because we can’t even do anything about it.” i answer. “and i don’t want to stress you out with all of my little annoyances and sad things.”

“i know that the last few months haven’t been easy.” daniel starts, deciding for us both that nothing i could say would be too much for us. “with our schedules and then keeping it a secret.”

“it’s just-” i don’t even know where to start because i know when i’ll do i’ll either inevitably cry out of stress or sound angry with him when i’m not, i’m just annoyed at our situation. “it really sucks that i can’t spend any of the holidays with you and i fucking hate that because i love the holiday season and the spirit and i’m avoiding it because i don’t want to feel sad about us not being together for the holidays. and i love you. i love you so much and i want you to meet my family because i know they’ll love you, but it would be way too obvious for you to fly home with me for the holidays and there’s really no hiding that so i know it makes no sense to even think about that because it just makes me sad.”

“i love you too, y/n.” daniel says, still processing everything. “i didn’t know you wanted me to meet your family yet. i would love to, but i didn’t want to bring it up until you were ready.”

“are you kidding?” i laugh a little bit, looking over at him as he parked the car in the driveway but neither of us moved. “daniel, of course i want you to meet my family. i know they’ll love you because you’re you. god, ever since i told my sisters i have a boyfriend they’ve been begging me to tell them who so that they could meet you. i don’t know, the holidays have always just been about being with family for my family, and i’m sure yours too. you’re such an important part of my life now and i wish i could share you with them. it’s whatever, though. we shouldn’t talk about it because i know that it’s not possible.”

“what about thanksgiving with my family and christmas with yours?” daniel says and my heart skips a beat. “and then we can figure out new years later. i know you have to go home for christmas because you’ll get kicked out of dorms, and as much as i would love for you to just stay with us, i’m sure you want to go home and see your family.”

“daniel, as lovely as that sounds, you know how suspicious it would be for me to stay here for thanksgiving and for you to fly home with me? i don’t think even we would be able to keep that a secret.”

“fuck the secret, then, y/n.” he blurts out. “y/n, i don’t see us ending ever, and definitely not anytime soon and it’s not like we’re gonna keep this a secret forever. fuck the secret. corbyn was right, okay, the boys are gonna be happy for us. it’s not like they haven’t picked up on us being close these last few months and keeping this secret isn’t worth us being apart for the next few months, okay? it’s hard enough to spend only a few hours together a week, i don’t want to be away from you for all of thanksgiving and christmas too.”

“fuck the secret.” i say, with a smile forming on my face. “are we really doing this?”

“i see no better time than now, y/n.” daniel leans over the console to kiss my lips softly. “wanna go tell the boys now?”

“let’s do it.” i unbuckle my seatbelt with a weight lifted off of my shoulders. daniel and i meet in front of the car, our hands interlocking as we walked into the house as a non-secret couple for the first time.

the boys were all sitting in the living room and a movie was playing with all of the lights out. they all look over as daniel closes the door and the two of us walk over to them.

“y/n? what are you doing here? daniel didn’t tell us he was bringing you over.” zach says. “of course he just wants to hog you again.”

“do you guys wanna pause the movie for a second? we have some important news.” daniel says and we separate hands as to not give it away just yet.

“fucking finally.” jonah says.

“what?” i ask, wondering what he meant.

“i mean, i don’t want to be the one to say it and ruin it for you two, but i mean, come on, we’ve been waiting months for you to admit to it. so get on with it.” jonah gestures for us to continue. guess we weren’t as great secret keepers as we thought.

“y/n and i have been dating for about six months and kept it a secret from everyone.” daniel says and then takes my hand in his and pulls me closer so that i’m in his arms.

“SIX.” zach yells. “i knew there were vibes between you two but you guys are good. six months??”

“not that good.” corbyn mumbles, which causes the other three to look at him.

“you bitch!” jack then exclaims. “you knew? and you didn’t give me my damn money??”

“it’s their fault, they told me not to say anything!” corbyn defends, pointing a finger at the two of us. “i was not supposed to find out. i wish i didn’t, this was a lot of stress i didn’t need.”

“i would like my twenty bucks now, thank you very much.” jack says and corbyn quickly throws a twenty dollar bill at him.

“this is so unfair.” the ninteen year old looks at the rest of us. “jack gets twenty bucks, corbyn gets stress relief, daniel gets a girlfriend and it’s y/n. what do i get? i want something!”

“zach, i didn’t get anything from this either.” jonah reminds.

“shut up. you have a girlfriend.” zach screeches in his jokingly angry voice. “god, i’m so lonely.”

“i have a couple sisters, if you want.” i laugh a little. “you’d have to come home for christmas with danny and i, though.”

“and you’re leaving us for christmas? gosh damnit y/n, why can’t you guys stay with me for christmas?” zach exclaims, which makes us all laugh a little bit. i wasn’t sure how everyone was going to react, but this was a pretty funny one from zach.

“i hate to break it to you bud, but we’re, uh, all going home for christmas. we do every year.” jack sets a hand on his bandmates shoulder. “i’m pretty sure y/n would rather spend christmas with her boyfriend and her family than you, no offense.”

“what the fuck, y/n. you don’t wanna spend christmas with me?”

i’m laughing too much at this interaction to answer before jack.

“to be clear though, zach, i would choose to spend christmas with you.”

“well we have y/n for thanksgiving. we’re gonna see my family, so we’ll still be in la and can hang out. have our own little friendsgiving.” daniel suggests.

“no no no, i’m too lonely for friendsgiving.” zach expresses, deciding to be unhappy with everything we say just for the comedy of it. “i’m too single. you’re all in relationships, i can’t be the only lonely one.”

“um, bro, i too am single.” jack looks at him funny.

“okay, well yeah, but you have a child.”

“yes, a child who lives in hawaii. i’ll be your friendsgiving date.” jack offers.

“really? you meant it?” zach faked being emotional and jonah looks at them, then back at us with a funny look.

“well, now that we’ve dealt with... that, i just want to say we’re all really happy for you two.” jonah starts. “not that this is surprising to any of us, because there has been way too much sexual tension since we’ve all been friends for this to not have happened, but i’m very happy you decided to tell us.”

“are you guys gonna go public? like tell management?” corbyn asks.

daniel then looks at me a little nervously and then back at the guys, “yeah that’s the next thing we have to figure out.”

lovely.

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queenmylovely · 4 years

Text

Wedding Party I

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. Lucy and Rami’s wedding is coming up and you and Ben are both part of the wedding party, with one catch.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: cussing, fluff, some roasting of reader

A/N: This is the third and final part of my 500 follower celebration!! Though you might be able to guess that this will have more than one part, so stay tuned! Thank you so much again to everyone who follows me, including the people that have since I hit 500, cause it’s been a minute, whoops. I’m hoping to post updates to this weekly until it’s done. (Side note, obviously not shaming reader and neither are any of her friends, including Lucy, she just doesn’t want any drama.) Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Part II, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Mini ii, Masterlist

(hot hot hot gif by @mrbenhardys)

💖💖💖

Over the past couple years, you had found yourself attending no fewer than three weddings a year, and last year broke the record with six. It was always a bit of a to do but you enjoyed it nonetheless, happy to see your friends happy and to go to a party. You hadn’t always been so happy to go; originally you were a little cynical and bitter about being single while all of your school and university friends got married. But then, at the second wedding you had been to, you hooked up with the best man and your opinion had been changed. It was easy to be happy for the happy couple when you were having hot sex with friends of friends with no chance for strings or feelings.

As such, you had grown a bit of a reputation among your friends that had borne witness to this behavior. A few teased you about it, a couple were silent, and a few more cheered you on, but none tried to stop you. This was mainly because none of them had seen how it would negatively impact them. And it wasn’t like it was terrible, but on more than one occasion you and some other guest had been walked in on, sometimes only a heated making out, but sometimes in the act. You had apologized and even tried to make it till after the reception, but it was hard sometimes with all the free booze and romantic songs and pretty lights making you hornier than ever.

Maybe there had been some awkward happenings when it was a destination wedding and the wedding party had events the next day. While you were happy with the one and done, some of the men you had hooked up with would be miffed when you kicked them out after the deed and didn’t seem so interested the next morning. After a couple uncomfortable brunches where everyone could feel the tension in the air (and not the good kind), you had decided to stick with the guys that were just a bit douchey and wouldn’t be so pained at a one night stand. Not that they didn’t sometimes get butthurt when you dropped ‘em too.

But to you, that was the beauty of the thing: hot sex for one night and one night only. You and whoever else you were with would exist in a made-up wedding world for the ceremony, reception, a couple hours of fucking, and then it would all be over and you could go back to your real world without any consequences. Okay, so only a couple consequences.

You thought that you would be able to keep this up indefinitely; you had a ton of friends in relationships who would have plenty of eligible bachelors at their weddings. That is, until your best friend, Lucy, got engaged to Rami. When she had invited you over for brunch just the two of you and had told you the news, you were enthralled for her. Rami was an amazing guy and you had never seen Lucy as happy as when she was with him. And then you were enthralled for yourself when you thought about all Rami’s actor friends that would undoubtedly be there. You had already met a couple, Joe and Gwilym, and if they were any sign of what level of men would be there, you couldn’t wait.

Your daydreams all came crashing down around you when Lucy abruptly said, “You’re not allowed to fuck anyone at my wedding.”

The two of you had just separated from your happy hug so she put her hands on your shoulders to make sure you looked at her and were paying attention.

“I-I-- What?” you stumbled out, brought from your reverie that was running through a list of A-list celebrity names that might be at the wedding. You tried to look innocent but the fiery look in Lucy’s eyes stopped you. So instead you whined, “Why?”

Lucy just rolled her eyes, though fondly, and replied, “Sit down.”

The two of you sat down at the wonderful brunch she (probably with help from Rami who was quite the home cook) had made and plated a couple items, poured mimosas, and you took your first bite before she continued.

“Obviously, Rami and I are very private people. We don’t like our relationship broadcasted to the public, and Rami feels that way about most of his life in general. So we’ve decided to have a really small wedding. We want it to be intimate and to share our love with each person that attends. We don’t feel like we have to prove anything or live up to any crazy standard and invite hundreds of people, half of whom we’ve never even spoken to,” Lucy explained, and throughout her little speech you felt yourself get a little emotional because you could tell how truly and deeply she and Rami loved each other. Lucy’s voice cracked a little and you reached your hand over to hers to give it a gentle squeeze.

Lucy took a sip of her drink and then said with a more pointed tone, “So because we are close friends or family with every single person that will be there, we don’t want anybody… fraternizing with anybody else and causing… awkward circumstances for us or any of the guests.”

“‘We,’ Lucy? Rami told you he didn’t want me fucking anyone?” you asked sarcastically.

“Well, when I say we I mean me, mainly. But Rami does want a drama-free wedding, as do I,” Lucy conceded. As she finished her sentence, Rami walked in having returned from what looked like the gym.

“What about me? Hi Y/N, hi sweet,” Rami said, dropping a kiss to your cheek briefly and then giving Lucy a more substantial one on the lips.

“Oh we were just talking about the wedding, you know,” Lucy said and Rami grinned.

“Did you ask her?” he inquired.

“Ask me what?”

“Well you know that Emma and I have had a pact to have each other as our maids of honour since we were like two and three,” she started and you nodded, knowing the story because she and her sister had relayed it many times over the years you had known them. “But will you do me the honour of being one of my bridesmaids?” A big smile took over your face and you jumped up to hug her, practically yelling “yes!” into her ear. Then you brought Rami into the hug as well, all of you laughing and smiling.

When that was done, you all sat back down, Rami pulling up a chair and grabbing a plate. Then you turned to him and said, “So Rami, Luce was just about to tell me about all of your friends that are going to be there.”

You were just teasing, but as you saw Lucy’s miffed face, you couldn’t help yourself. “You know, I really liked meeting Joe and Gwilym, it’d be nice to see them again. And can’t forget about that Ben who you all talk so much about. ‘Haven’t met him yet, but I’m sure the wedding will fix that.”

So that Lucy couldn’t see, you winked at Rami to make sure he knew you were joking, mostly.

Before you could say another word, Lucy burst out, “No, do not fuck anyone. Okay? Do. Not. Fuck. Anyone. Especially Ben.”

Your ears perked up at that, “Ben? Why especially Ben?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Lucy hesitated for a second, a look of panic taking over her face.

“Because you guys will be walking together and you’ll spend the most time together,” Rami saved her.

“Yeah, it would mess up the whole party’s dynamic. Just don’t okay?” Lucy asked with a pleading look in her eyes to make you feel guilty.

“Okay, geez, I won’t. You guys act like I’m some floozy who can’t keep it in her pants,” you half-pouted for a second, but then they both gave you a look. “Whatever, I won’t, I won’t!”

Unbeknownst to you, the reason they were so hell-bent on keeping your attention off Ben specifically was not because he was the groomsman to your bridesmaid (although that would’ve been reason enough). It was actually because Ben had the exact same reputation amongst his friends as you did yours.

After he had gotten out of a more serious relationship a couple years ago, he hadn’t settled down again. With plenty of friends getting married, his was the same fruitful situation as yours, and he used it to his benefit. The wedding scene was a lot more reliable than just hitting up any old bar or pub.

Ben had also gotten the no fucking speech, but from Rami when he asked him to be a groomsman. He had agreed to the rule with a begrudging nod. Ben was easier to convince since he was mutual friends with a lot of Lucy and Rami’s friends and would know most everyone at the wedding.

While you and Lucy had been best friends for years, you weren’t an actress and didn’t already know most of her actor friends. Because of Lucy’s filming schedules and locations, you relied on a lot of facetime to keep up with each other. You had only met Joe because you had tagged along on a Venice trip with Lucy and Rami. Gwilym you had got to know a bit more because whenever Lucy and Rami were in town for more than a week they liked to have dinner parties or game nights and both of you were frequently in attendance. Ben’s filming schedule or other priorities had always prevented him from joining in, at least for times you had gone.

Of course you had seen pictures of Ben on everyone’s instagram, and maybe had done some stalking of your own. Not to mention you watched Bohemian Rhapsody, obviously, and had caught a couple of other things he had been in just by happenstance. He seemed like a pretty good actor and a pretty great guy from what you could tell. Plus, you trusted the judgement of your friends about his character.

_____

Lucy and Rami weren’t ones to do the more extravagant things that some engaged couples did. Instead of a big engagement party, they decided to have a dinner party with just their families and the wedding party.

The party started at 6:30pm, so you got there… at 6:50pm. You hadn’t meant to be late but you couldn’t decide between two dresses, worrying that the one you wanted to wear would be too dressy. You ended up going for it anyway, it was black with an opaque sweetheart neckline and a mesh and lace section that made it sleeveless and so it wasn’t actually strapless. It wasn’t bodycon but it hugged your curves nicely and had gold shimmery thread as part of the lace that caught the light. You had also done your makeup and hair quickly but thought that the overall effect was nice.

As you arrived at their door, you tried the handle, hoping it was open so you could slip in quietly, but no dice. So you knocked twice and stepped back to wait. No answer came so you knocked again louder and waited again. Just as you were about to raise your hand again, the door swung open and you saw Joe there.

He smiled when he recognized you; the two of you had become quick friends during those couple days in Venice.

But before he could say anything, you glanced past him and asked, “Dinner hasn’t started, right? I’m not that late?”

Joe laughed and shook his head, “No, everyone’s still getting drinks and stuff. You’re only like five minutes behind the last person to arrive. Nice to see you by the way.”

You laughed sheepishly and leaned in for the hug he offered, “Nice to see you too, Joe. How’s everything?”

The two of you headed further into the apartment as he told you, “Pretty good. I'm actually starting filming just outside London so I’ll be over here basically until right after the wedding. No trips back and forth for me.”

“That’s great! And that means you’ll be ‘round for game nights. I’ll have to warn you that Gwilym and I make a great team.”

Joe scoffed at that, “Gwil and I are a great team, thank you very much.”

“Funny, he hasn’t mentioned anything to me about your skills,” you shot back with a smirk.

“Guess we’ll just have to ask him.”

“Guess we will.”

Gwilym ended up being the first person the two of you saw as you entered the living room. He saw you walk in and headed over quickly with a big smile on his face.

“Ah Y/N, glad you made it!” he said, leaning down for a peck on the cheek and a quick hug.

“Yep, and only 20 fashionable minutes late,” you replied and the three of you laughed.

“Alright, alright, introductions are over. We have something to settle with you Gwil,” Joe said seriously.

“Oh?” Gwil asked, a little confused.

“That’s right. Joe and I wanted to know which one of us is the best game night partner,” you asked, pointing an accusatory finger as Joe squinted his eyes at him.

Gwil broke out in laughter, which only seemed slightly nervous. “Well you see… It’s like comparing apples and oranges. Y/N you’re better at trivia but Joe you’re really good at charades.”

Joe and you looked at each other and then back to Gwil.

“Seems like a bit of a cop-out to me,” Joe pointed out.

“Yeah, why don’t you just give us a real--”

“Y/N! There you are!” you heard Lucy calling out to you and you turned to see your best friend excusing herself from some of her family members. She half ran over to you and pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Hey you look nice,” you told her when you pulled back and could see her outfit. She was in a flowy cream colored dress with ruffles and gold ribbon sewn in.

“Thank you,” she replied. Then a cheeky smile took over her face and she told you, “You look a bit like a young widow attending her 80-year-old husband’s funeral after killing him in his sleep. All you’re missing is the black veil.”

“Shut up!”

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N, you look lovely,” Rami told you as he walked up.

As he kissed your cheek and you leaned in for a hug you told him while looking at Lucy, “Thank you, Rami, you truly are such a good friend.”

“I’m just telling it like it is,” Lucy shrugged to everyone’s amusement.

Everyone got to chatting and catching up, but when you were in the middle of a conversation with Gwil, Lucy pulled you away.

“Where did he get to?” Lucy wondered, looking around the room. “Who--?”

“Ah there he is,” Lucy told herself more than you and started pulling you over to the other side of the room.

You had no idea where she was leading you to until you noticed a man with blonde hair facing the other direction and talking to a couple you didn’t know. Realizing it must be Ben, your stomach dropped but whether it was out of anticipation, excitement, or anxiousness you couldn’t tell. Ben had been hyped up so much both by your friends and by the idea of him you had in your mind. Now it was even worse after that speech Lucy had given you a couple weeks ago. Even though she hadn’t meant to, she was putting all of your attention on Ben with the thought of sex in mind. Now you were just trying to stave it off so you didn’t make a fool of yourself upon meeting him.

Taking a deep breath in as Lucy tapped on his shoulder, you tried to ready yourself for anything that might happen. Ben looked quickly and saw that it was Lucy and politely excused himself from the conversation.

Even just hearing him say that made your eyes widen slightly; he had such a deep, rich voice that in any other case your mouth would practically be watering at the thought of what it would sound like in bed. Now, you had that thought but had to drop it quickly from your mind because it would lead places that weren’t allowed.

Ben finally turned around, smiling at Lucy and then his expression turned to interest when he saw you.

“Ben, I’d like you to meet my best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Ben,” Lucy said and the two of you shook hands, smiling and exchanging pleasantries. “Okay so you both already know that you’ll be walking together so… get to know each other! Become, acquainted, better yet become friends!”

Both of you laughed lightly at Lucy’s words and then waved her off when someone started calling for her.

“So you’re the infamous Ben,” you said jokingly, looking him up and down as if you were studying him and not as if he was just incredibly good to look at.

“Infamous? Do I have that bad of a reputation?” Ben said back good-naturedly, though he was a little worried you had heard about his penchant for sleeping with people at weddings, especially with Rami confronting him about it.

“Well, maybe not bad, more I’ve just heard about you so much without meeting you that if it weren’t for your movies I wouldn’t have thought you really existed,” you amended with a smile.

“Oh my movies, huh? You’ve seen more than one?” Ben asked cheekily and your cheeks flushed for a moment.

“Well I’ve obviously seen borhap, as you would call it, and I saw X-Men before all that to keep up with the series, and my family’s very into action movies, so I caught 6 Underground with them,” you explained.

“Seems like you’re pretty familiar with my filmography,” he pointed out with a smile.

“If that’s what you wanna think…”

“I think that you’ve been here for about ten minutes and no one’s gotten you a drink. Can I fix that?” Ben asked, gesturing to your empty hands.

“Lead the way,” you replied, and he guided you over to where a little bar was set up. On the way, you had to remind yourself again of the rules and that though a handsome man was making you a drink, that was all that was happening.

“Alright, they’ve got the works so what would you like?” Ben said with an easy smile.

“Oh, um, I like Moscow mules,” you told him.

“Good choice, good choice,” Ben replied as he looked around at the different bottles. “A Moscow mule…”

“Do you know how to make a Moscow mule?” you asked because he had missed the ginger beer bottle about three times.

“What? Of course I… don’t,” he admitted sheepishly.

“It’s okay, I can just make it,” you suggested but Ben shook his head.

“No, I said I was going to get you a drink, and I’ll make it. If you could just tell me how?” he said with a small smile.

You laughed and nodded, “Okay, so just squeeze a lime wedge into the glass and go ahead and drop it in. Then a couple ice cubes, that’s good. And now two oz. of vodka, actually why don’t you do one and a half, I don’t need two right now. Now you just fill the rest with ginger beer and give it a stir!”

Ben stirred the drink and then garnished it with another lime wedge, “Ta-da, my first ever Moscow mule and all for you!”

Taking it from him, you waited until he grabbed his own drink again and then held yours up for a cheers. After taking a sip you said, “Mmm, very good, just like a real bartender. Do you want to try?”

“Sure,” he replied with a smile and you carefully exchanged drinks so he didn’t have to hold both while he did. Your hands brushed against each other a couple times and you had to keep your breath from catching at how warm his hands were and the way he looked at you when it happened. “Oh wow, yeah that’s very good. Maybe I’ll have to have these from now on.”

“And hey, if the acting thing ever stops working out, you could always fall back on being a bartender,” you joked, unable to stop your laughter.

Ben shook his head but laughed too, saying, “That’s cold, that’s cold.”

Then he took another gulp of your drink and you reached forward to get it from him, “Hey, that’s mine, make your own if you’re so good at it.”

“Just a repayment for you being so mean. There, have it back,” he said with a smirk, handing it back to you and grabbing his own drink from your hand.

“Hmph,” you held your drink close to you to keep him from getting it again and Ben laughed at your actions, about to say something else when Rami was heard over the chatter saying that dinner was ready.

For dinner you were sat in between Lucy and Joe with Ben across from you and Gwilym and Rami next to him. Talk and laughter interrupted the actual eating of the meal, but it was hard to mind because everyone was having so much fun. Lucy and Rami’s families were on the other side of them, so everyone got to hear funny stories about their childhood as well.

After dinner, you and Emma had volunteered to get the dessert ready after some others had helped put away the dishes. You took it as an opportunity to catch up a little.

“So, you and that Ben seem to be hitting it off,” Emma said in a teasing tone as she started grabbing little plates from a cupboard.

“Please, you’re not doing recon for Lucy are you?” you asked with a roll of your eyes and taking the cleaned forks from the dish rack.

Emma looked at you confusedly, “What do you mean?”

“She didn’t tell you what she told me?” you asked and she shook her head. You sighed, taking the cover off the homemade sheet cake as you told her, “She told me that I wasn’t allowed to fuck anyone. And especially Ben because we’re walking together.”

Emma broke out in laughter at the words you said and the dejected way in which you said them, accidentally dropping the cake server onto the counter with a clatter, “Oh my gosh, honestly I can’t blame her, you do kinda wreak havoc on weddings.”

“That’s not fair! There’s only been like two outright verbal fights because of me,” you defended, taking the cake server yourself and starting to cut squares of cake.

“Hey, don’t take your anger out on the cake,” she pointed to your first haphazard piece of cake. “Anyway, how many passive aggressive altercations have there been because of you?”

“I dunno,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders but Emma’s look made you add, “Fine, a lot.”

“Exactly, now Ben’s hot I’ll give you that, but I think you can survive these next weeks without jumping his bones. It’s not like you’ll be seeing him all the time,” Emma told you.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be an adult, whatever. Lucy and Rami already covered this, you know,” you said with a bit of annoyance.

“Okay I’ll shut up. Let’s get this cake out there before there’s a riot,” she joked and you smiled, following her back into the living room with the pan of cake as she took the forks and plates.

Emma’s speech (you swore next it’ll be their mom telling you not to fuck Ben) did give you new resolve not to get too friendly with Ben, thinking it was better to interact with him in groups from now on.

That plan went well for most of the rest of the night as Joe, Gwilym, and Emma proved effective buffers. But then Gwilym had to leave because he had call time in the morning and Joe went with because he was staying with him. Then Emma went off to compare notes with Sami, Rami’s brother, about their respective maid of honor and best man responsibilities. You looked around and realized that because it was getting later and the families had gone home and Lucy and Rami were off doing who knows what in the kitchen, you were completely alone with Ben.

Not only that, but you were sitting right next to him on the couch and your knees were definitely touching. You tapped your fingers on your cup as you listened to Ben. He was telling you about shooting in Italy, which you had asked about because after going to Venice, you wanted to see more, but it was hard to pay attention. Your focus was being brought to his hands that he used to gesture as he talked. To his hair that he would absent-mindedly run his fingers through whenever a strand fell down onto his forehead. To his lips, oh fuck his full lips, that he licked whenever he smiled or laughed.

You could feel yourself leaning closer to him and if you weren’t wrong, his words were slowing down and he was getting closer to you too.

“So, yeah, I loved Florence, but um, Siena was something-- something special. It’s, it’s really-- really gorgeous,” Ben finished.

You looked up at him but found that he was looking at your lips and had tugged his own between his teeth. With the second drink in your system and the way you could feel Ben’s body heat radiating towards you and pulling you in, you were a second away from saying fuck it iand just kissing him.

“Are you done with your drink? Do you need another or?” Lucy’s voice asking you brought both of you out of whatever state you were in and you moved apart from each other, not so subtly.

You looked to Lucy and didn’t miss the pointed look she was giving you. “No, I should probably actually head out. I’ve got something in the morning, thanks though.”

Ben stood up when you did and you said goodbye with a strictly friendly hug. Then you said goodbye to Lucy, telling her quietly that she didn’t have to say anything. You found Rami with Emma and Sami and said goodbye to all of them.

As you were headed to the front door to let yourself out, Ben walked up behind you.

“Hold on a second,” he said and you turned around to him with a pleasant smile. “I, um, wanted to give you my number in case there’s ever anything that we need to discuss or whatever since we’re, you know, walking together.”

Ben was a little awkward getting that out, so you handed your phone to him with a bright, “Sure!” to reassure him.

He typed in his phone number and you were ready to walk away with a quick goodbye but Ben got a look in his eye. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you and your breath caught, and then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Although not the kiss you were expecting, it still had an effect on you. It was different to the ones you had gotten from say Gwilym or Rami. Though it was probably just as quick, it felt a lot longer and just that simple act made your whole body feel warm.

“Looking forward to seeing you soon,” Ben said softly, hardly waiting for your quiet, “you too” before walking back to the living room.

You reached your hand up to the spot on your cheek he had kissed and walked out the door. That warm feeling didn’t go away all night.

💖💖💖

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norabrice1701 · 4 years

Text

An Offer Received - Part III.1

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic

Pairing: Thomas Conrad x Fem!reader

Summary: Part III.1 & III.2 - You spring Mr. Conrad’s trap and he has you. You’re his.

Rating: Part III.1 & III.2 - Explicit sexual content NSFW smut (please be ye warned and do not proceed if not your cuppa), controlling behavior, threats of violence, f-bombs, scalpel violence, Dark!Conrad

Previously: Part II - 5 Weeks

A/N: Part III is long, but hopefully worth it. So, here’s the first part with the second part up next. And please - unless you 100% consent up front to a relationship like this, this fic should not be relationship goals. Also, I went with Secretary Ross’ title from the MCU but this fic is still meant to be non-nation specific.

GIF credit to the original poster via the Tumblr search!

Part III.1 - 5 Months

It didn’t make sense. Month after month, update after update. Across all the divisions, all the departments - one eyesore project initiative sat apart from the rest. Operation ‘Blue Sea’.

You may have only had this position for five months, but you knew a hemorrhaging wound when you saw one. How could anyone with any business sense see the amount of money spent on this project without adding a single dollar to the company’s bottom line? You had to know more.

Operation ‘Blue Sea’ – a government defense contract funded as an exploratory effort to develop an advanced warfare submarine prototype, the details of which were highly classified. Even the project location had been redacted. Scanning the record of invoices, it was easy to see the last one that the government had paid...was over four years ago.

You squinted at your laptop. If the last payment from the government had been over four years ago, then who funded the project now? Who paid these additional millions of investment? You clicked on the latest invoice, scanning for the initials of the person who approved the payment. Also redacted.

It didn’t look good, but you hoped there was an explanation. Perhaps the answers hid in the redacted text. Perhaps the project was being used as an internal improvement opportunity. But what could possibly be the benefit to the company at large? And why hide it in a scrapped submarine project?

You had no choice but to take it to Conrad. Either you needed a higher security clearance for the redacted information or needed his agreement to close the project, cutting off the mystery source of money. You found an opening on his calendar and set the meeting.

The passing hours gave you time to think, to strategize. To firm up your proposed solution. Obviously, it made the most sense to shut the project down. To stop the cash flow and dig to the bottom of what those funds were really being used for. You could only hope that you hadn’t stumbled onto an embezzlement scheme. Or maybe Conrad would reward you for such a discovery. That seemed unlikely, though. Your boss kept a tight watch on his company, so it stood to reason he knew that Operation ‘Blue Sea’ was ongoing.

A paranoid part of you hoped that you hadn’t accidentally stumbled onto something worse…something that Conrad didn’t want you to know. The implications were too sickening to linger on, so you focused back on your inbox.

At the appointed meeting time, you knocked on his door. He bid you entry and you sat in the chair opposite his desk. Now that winter’s chill had settled in, he was never seen in his shirtsleeves. Absently, it made you wonder if he was cold-natured. Would his fingers be chilly to the touch? Or warmed by the steaming cup of tea that rested at his elbow?

You didn’t bother with pleasantries. You knew they didn’t matter to him. “Sir, I took a deeper look at the divisional financial updates, and specifically wanted to discuss Operation ‘Blue Sea’.” You ran through your findings on the end of official cash flow and the start of the mystery source. “This project is guzzling money without a known source, and hasn’t produced any measurable output since the government pulled out four years ago. With your permission, sir, I propose to shut it down. To find out where the funneled cash has been used – hopefully we’re not looking at an embezzlement scandal – and take the next actions appropriately.”

He sat, largely unmoving, as you laid out the details and your proposal. His eyes had barely skimmed the project file printouts that you laid before him. If anything, he looked a curious mix of proud and disappointed. Nothing about his calm reaction – or lack of reaction – set you at ease.

Suddenly, he blinked rapidly with a dismissive sigh as he reached for his tea. “I had suspected something was afoot in my company. It took you a little longer than I anticipated, but it’s of little consequence.”

What did he mean by that? Surely, he didn’t move you into this position to uncover rotten apples in the company’s barrel. This hadn’t exactly been hidden, but maybe Conrad was just too busy to be bothered by the details. But that thought didn’t sit well with you, either – he was the very definition of attention to detail.

You moistened your lips, unsure. “Forgive me, sir, but you seem–.”

“I’ll have your clearance level upgraded on Monday to begin your investigation in full.” His teacup clinked softly against the saucer. “I expect you to keep all discussions of Operation ‘Blue Sea’ confidential between us, and discuss it with no one outside the confines of this office.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” You knew what was at stake with this investigation. Maybe he did, too, given how quickly he acquiesced to secure higher credentials for you to access redacted information. Your brain wanted to question it, but maybe, you’d just take the easy victory.

His fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop, unbothered as you sat there in silence. You debated finding something to say. But he wasn’t a man for small talk and he obviously didn’t want to talk about the situation around Operation ‘Blue Sea’. Which also didn’t make sense to you – what CEO wouldn’t be immediately concerned with the future of his company if he found out about a potentially illegal scheme happening right under his nose?

His voice carried quietly over the tapping of keys. “You made decisions about the trajectory of my company long before you were officially empowered to do so. It shouldn’t surprise you that you’re in this position to broaden that scope of responsibility and align us for every future success.” His gaze lifted from the laptop, eyes glittering with an unnerving, mischievous intent. “Your discovery is deserving of a treat, wouldn’t you say?”

Nothing about this felt right. You shook you heard, unsure. “I - it’s the job, sir - just doing what you asked. I suppose...it’s your decision if that’s worthy of a treat.”

The corner of his mouth lifted with silent approval as his sharp mind worked behind those mesmerizing, icy eyes. “Tell me,” he spoke softly at last, “are you free this evening?”

This evening? Friday night? Your brow pinched in confusion. “Sir, tonight’s the Secretary’s holiday benefit, and you’re attend -.”

“Yes, I’m aware of my plans tonight. I asked about you.”

“Me?” Your eyes widened and you fought back a guffaw. “Me, no. No, I’m not attending.”

“Then let’s remedy that, shall we?” He reached for his phone that rested on his desktop.

“Sir, I - I couldn’t possibly. And you…,” you swallowed, unsure to continue but unwilling to back down, “your valet sent a note - you’re set to take Galinda Barrett.”

“Yes, the fashion photographer turned Pulitzer Prize winner,” he glanced up with a wry look, “I don’t think she’ll be too brokenhearted.”

Shit, what else could you say? You glanced at your LOKI smartwatch, noting the time. The gala started at 8:30 and it was past 3:30 now...how could you possibly even have a suitable dress for such a formal occasion?

He looked back to his phone, fingers flying over the smooth surface. “Take the rest of the afternoon off. Go straight to Pierre & Sons, a reliable clothier. Ask for Jean-Louis, he’ll know to expect your arrival. From there, they’ll advise your next stop.”

“Sir, that’s really...very generous of you, but there’s no need. I…,” you paused, unable to believe it, your stomach twisting, “I can’t let you stand up Galinda.”

He paused from his phone, pinning you with the full weight of his stare. “Do you remember what I told you from the very beginning?”

You wracked your brain, trying to recall. He’d imparted so many expectations, but then you remembered - that first meeting, when he first offered you a chair. You could hear his elegant voice reciting the same syllables, and you knew you were sunk. “Yes, sir,” you nodded slowly, “when you make an offer, you expect it to be received.”

He nodded, approval lurking in his piercing gaze. Approval and something darker, something possessive. “Very good. Now from glancing at your watch, you must know time is of the essence. I shall see you at 8:05 tonight.”

You recognized a dismissal when you heard it, still stunned at the turn in conversation. You wondered what would have happened if you still refused. But as you pushed through his office double doors, back out into the main area with your desk – you realized that no one ever said no to Thomas Conrad. He always had an answer and never gave anyone the opportunity.

At least this was just one night, one black-tie holiday charity function. He was officially attending on the corporation’s behalf, so at least it wasn’t a personal social engagement. But still…the sense of uneasy dread lingered in your gut as you queued up directions to Pierre & Sons.

The drive went quick. Sure, your Audi was nowhere near the same caliber as his Jag, but you still enjoyed driving it. Far more practical and within your budget. Once parked, you took the three steps up to the clean, whitewashed brick storefront. A soft bell chimed on your entrance as you were hit with the pleasant smell of cinnamon and clove. Holiday carols played in elegant string arrangements as a kind-faced man greeted you from behind the main counter. “Good afternoon, ma’am. How may I help you?”

“Good afternoon. I have an appointment, I think. Mr. Conrad said to ask for Jean-Louis. I’m –.”

Your name sounded over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but turn. A tall man, impeccably dressed in bold patterns that should have clashed but didn’t, stood in the awning of a doorway, sizing you from head to toe. “Yes, I knew it was you!” His smile grew, wide and proud. “You match Mr. Conrad’s description perfectly. Come along, vites, vites,” he motioned you into the room, “Mr. Conrad made clear that we’re on a limited schedule. And there’s so much to do!”

The hours rushed by in a whirlwind of fabric, makeup and hairspray. Admittedly, it was all rather decadent. The corset was equal parts luxurious and stiff against your torso, cinched with laces and hooked in place to curve your hips and breasts into just the right shape without suffocating you. Silken panties covered more than you expected but still left you feeling virtually naked under your dress of such a fine fabric and cut, in a color that perfectly complimented your skin tone. Where you had been concerned about makeup hiding your face, it simply enhanced your natural features. Soft highlights drew focus to your eyes, and you lips looked lush. The deceptively simple up-do showed off the slope of your neck down to the dress’ flattering neckline.

Looking in the mirror for the final time, the dress hugged the shape of the corset without revealing what lay beneath, and you couldn’t deny the obvious truth. You looked beautiful. Strangely enough and more importantly, you actually felt beautiful.

Jean-Louis smiled approvingly. “That’s why I do this job,” he said, “for that smile right there. The one that knows what it is to be beautiful.”

He reached to the clothes rack for a long, black garment. The fabric was velvet, rich and heavy as it slid against your skin, covering up your elegant gown. Of course, the long velvet coat – more of a cape with sleeves – fit you eerily just as well as the dress. He smiled in approval. “A finishing touch. Can’t have you wearing just any old coat - it’s already cold out, and he did say it was going to be windy.”

Windy?

Before you could question it further, he shooed you from the room. As you emerged into the shop front, you were startled that night had fallen. Your watch was somewhere in the garment bag that Jean-Louis had shoved your workwear into, along with your phone - you had no clue of the time.

A nondescript man in a nondescript black suit lingered near the door, inclining his head on your approach, wishing you a good evening by name.

You eyed him warily, already suspecting the creepy truth. “Good evening. I’m assuming Mr. Conrad sent you?”

“Indeed, miss. He knew you would be in need of a driver to escort you.”

“A driver? No, I have my car…I can drive.” Fortunately, the heels you wore were relatively sensible. As tall as you already were, you couldn’t stand taller than Mr. Conrad.

“We’ll be taking your car, miss.” He held out a hand in silent query.

You’d tolerated it all afternoon, but this was the last straw. There would be words with Mr. Conrad tonight. But you knew better than to shoot the messenger, so you yielded your car key.

It felt surreal to ride in the backseat of your own vehicle with a glorified chauffeur at the wheel. You watched the city streets blur by, noting that you were most certainly not heading to your apartment. Instead, the driver glided to a stop in front of a sleek, modern building that stretched high to the sky. There was no obvious sign announcing what this building was – but the lack of signage told you plenty. Only the super wealthy and powerful didn’t announce where they lived. And now…now you stood at the base of what could only be Conrad’s apartment building.

The driver ushered you forward, and the doorman opened the door. “Good evening,” again another greeting by your name, “Mr. Conrad is expecting you.”

You glared around the modern, elegant, empty lobby as frustration consumed you. Were you supposed to find him? Was he coming down to you? No one told you anything but seemed to know everything. You hated feeling at a disadvantage, and you certainly were.

You knew just what Mr. Conrad wanted you to know. And nothing more.

Nothing helped your sense of irritation, not even when he finally came around the corner. Of course, he looked killer in a bespoke tuxedo that fit his frame like a second skin. If possible, his hair looked more elegantly styled and he moved with such effortless, commanding grace. The sight of him also did nothing to ease the heat that danced along your skin ever since you first slipped into the silky undergarments.

His eyes traveled up and down the length of your body, not even trying to hide his assessment. At last those clear eyes found yours, an undercurrent of satisfied amusement lurking in their depths. “If you weren’t scowling so intently, I’d dare say you look absolutely stunning.”

“I don’t relish the compliment, Mr. Conrad.” You snapped, at the end of your rope. “You sent a driver to the clothier. I’ll have you know that I am perfectly capable of driving my own car – you can’t just -.” Your words stalled as he stepped closer, leveraging his handsome, intimidating height.

He purred, low and dangerous. “Can’t just…what?”

That horrible, distracting, intoxicating cologne surrounded you, threatening your concentration. God, why did he have to smell so good?

“Can’t just…,” you licked you lips, meeting his gaze, “can’t just control me like that.”

His lips merely curled in an answering smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “You haven’t had control since you first set foot in my office, darling. So, don’t delude yourself into thinking that you have it now. You’ve merely had the illusion that I wanted you to have - but starting tonight, all that changes.”

You took an instinctive step back but a strong, solid hand pressed to the small of your back, keeping you close to him. Every fight or flight instinct kicked into high gear as his other arm bracketed your shoulders. You were trapped in what would effectively look like a harmless lovers’ embrace.

But there was nothing harmless about the razor sharp gleam of his eyes. “You see, I need to recruit someone of your determined drive, your sharp focus. I’d rather you be a willing participant – it makes things so much easier, and in your unique case, would prove particularly pleasurable.”

“I…I don’t understand,” you glared back at him, stiffening at the tone of his voice, “recruit me? I already work for you.”

He chuckled again, another dark, sinister sound. “If only ‘twere so. Now come along, darling; we mustn’t be late.”

“I won’t go anywhere with you.” This was going nowhere good, and you struggled to break free, to pull back. But he held you fast, pivoting to guide you towards the elevator in slow, forced steps with deceptive strength. If the doormen noticed your struggles, they paid no obvious attention or took action to intervene.

Fear sank in your stomach as you realized you were powerless. If Conrad had somehow bought those men off, anticipating your reaction…then, maybe you were just fucked.

“I do wish you would calm down,” he said smoothly, unruffled by your protest, “please accept my assurance that I mean you no harm.”

“Then, won’t you just tell me what you want. And why!”

“Not here.” His tone brokered no argument as the elevator chimed low.

He led you forward into the brass and mirrored elevator interior. Reaching around you, he pushed a button simply labeled ‘T’, and the elevator started upwards, floors ticking by.

You swallowed, the heat from his hand still on your back seeping through the velvet coat to your dress. “Where are we going?”

“To the benefit, of course.”

“Then, shouldn’t we be going down?” You’d just assumed that the Jag would make another appearance, instead of ascending to…wherever you were going.

The elevator chimed your arrival and the doors slid open. Windows surrounded the elevator lobby, and you could see the shining lights of the city beyond the building’s rooftop. You could also see the glass doors leading to a set of steps up to a helipad. A helipad with a black, sleek, waiting helicopter.

You forced another hard swallow, your heart racing. Just where exactly was this benefit?

“Come along,” he guided you forward with the strength of his body, “we’ve already dallied too long.”

The cold air bit at your skin as you navigated through the glass doors and up to the helipad. The blades spun at low speed, whipping your dress and coat about your feet as you moved forward in his embrace. There would be no chance for escape once confined in the cabin with him. But, surely, with the crowded benefit, you would at least be safe until the return trip.

Right?

The cabin door slid closed behind him and the whirring rotor noise receded to a dull roar in the background. Of course, the interior was lovely - cream-colored leather, posh wood finishes, even a fringed table lamp between the two cushy seats.

Tense silence stretched as the helicopter lifted away. Your hands gripped the armrests, part never having flown in a helicopter before, part in adrenaline-fueled frustration.

A million things ran through your mind. Things you wanted to say. Things you wanted to yell. Foul names you wanted to call him. But reason stilled your tongue as the city lights flew by. This was his domain and upsetting him further, well…that certainly couldn’t bode well for you.

“Do you recall our conversation on the way to dinner some months ago?” He sounded eerily calm, pensive. “The society that rots around us?”

How could you not? “Yes." You weren’t sure what brought about the abrupt change in conversation, but you had acknowledged the idea at the time. "There was...a surprising amount of truth to it.”

“Too much truth, in fact. Too much truth to let it run unchecked any longer.”

A shudder ran down your spine and you couldn’t stop from glancing over at him with wide, concerned eyes. “Just…what do you mean by that?”

He stared out the window, eyes focused and calculating as he surveyed the world below. Like a king on high. An emperor of his domain. The thought roiled in your gut. Who…who was this man?

He turned from the window, the picture of clam, steady control. “They say the world has only known five great, influential empires in the entire history of civilization. A rather shocking fact, especially considering the ingenuity and connectivity of the modern world. Thus, the irony – at a time when the world is more connected than ever, it stands the most disjointed.”

The implication didn’t make sense as you blinked, trying to understand. “So, what…? You…you’re going to…unify everyone?”

“Not just unify.” His face hardened with a razor sharp edge. “A world where borders, race, genders are no longer definitions or limits. A world where only the capacity of one’s mind and the will to succeed determine your destiny. A truly free world.”

“But that’s insane!”

“Is it?” He chuckled, dark and chilling. “What’s insane is continuing to let the old guard run unchallenged. Perpetuating old ideologies because they’re too myopic to glimpse beyond their own so-called-grandeur to what the world could be.”

“But you couldn’t possibly….,” you scrambled to verbalize your thoughts, “to be clear, you are talking about...overthrowing the global order. World fucking domination, right? Like…like you’re a Bond villain!”

He sneered. “They lack true vision and conviction. You’re pardoned this once, but do not draw that comparison again.”

Your eyes widened in absurd disbelief. Either he was certifiably insane, or this was some elaborate hoax. It had to be. Sure, there was nothing playful about the man who was your boss, but…. The more you studied him, the more you came to the sinking realization.

He meant it. He meant every word.

You gulped hard, thinking back to his previous words. “You…you said you wanted to ‘recruit’ me.”

“That I did.”

“Recruit me in your quest for world domination?”

“If you must phrase it so dramatically.”

You nearly barked a laugh. “This makes no sense.”

He sighed, annoyance flashing in his gaze. “You’re an intelligent woman. Certainly ambitious, with a keen eye for detail. And rest assured, world domination starts with attention to detail.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to….” You trailed off, the thought playing out in your mind. He didn’t actually expect you to say yes, did he? To go along with his crazy scheme? But fear suddenly crawled down your spine at what he would do if you refused.

He hummed softly, a disconcerting sound. “Did you know the average cruising altitude of this helicopter is 2,500 feet?”

You drew a sharp inhale, pitifully reaching for the armrest of your chair as if it would save you. But of course that had to be the alternative…he couldn’t afford to let you live if you refused him. You knew far too much now.

He slid out of his seat with silent ease, dropping to a knee on the cabin floor in front of you. His scent flooded your senses, hands warm and gentle as they cupped your jaw. He raised your head until all you could see were two pools of spellbinding, icy blue. “Punishment only comes with misdeed; cruelty only with cause. Until you give me a cause, you have nothing to fear from me. It’s as true now as it was on the ground.”

Your heart threatened to burst in your chest. “How...how can you expect me to stand by and watch such...destruction?”

“What makes you think you’ll be watching?” His thumb caressed your cheek, his face cracking in a mocking, pitying smile. “My dear, you’ve already been helping.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. How was that possible? You’d only been doing your job - you’d only been doing...exactly what he asked. The realization seized you, eyes widening. “You’re hiding it in LOKI. Whatever your plan, your scheme is...you’re running it through the company.” You instantly recalled the meeting earlier today and the last piece fell into place. “Operation 'Blue Sea'."

He leaned forward, soft lips pressing to your forehead. A blessing. A benediction. A mollification.

Your breath caught at the gentle sensation as his kiss fell to your cheek. The tip of your nose. Nothing about his touch should ignite your blood given the circumstances, but heat pooled low in your core all the same. Your heart raced, anticipating his next touch...you moistened your lips without thinking, leaning into his touch.

He pulled back ever so slightly, breath ghosting your lips. “You know, I do think something is missing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your brow furrowed, taken aback at the statement and his intimate presence. “Missing…?”

His hands fell away from your face and you shivered from the chill. You didn’t realize just how warm his touch was in comparison to the cabin air. He reached into his jacket, extracting a long, slim velvet case. He pulled the lid open and your eyes widened to take in the sheer amount of diamonds.

He rumbled his approval of your reaction. “When Jean-Louis notified me of your gown’s neckline, I couldn’t resist.” Balancing the case on his bent knee, he pulled the necklace free, the layers of diamonds swinging and glittering in the light.

You didn’t dare move, too stunned at the gesture, at what must be an exorbitant price tag, at what was so clearly a statement of possession as he fastened the necklace around your neck. The metal was chilly against your skin and the weight undeniable Your hand rose to caress the tiered necklace, brushing over the immaculate stones.

His eyes darkened with smoldering satisfaction, the smuggest of closed-mouthed grins on his handsome face. God, you wanted to slap him. You wanted to kiss him.

He rose, settling back into his seat, smoothing out his jacket. “I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself tonight, and put all of this conversation from your mind.” The helicopter started to descend. “This is my treat for you, after all.”

What was there for you to say? You couldn’t very well say anything to anyone at the benefit. There was absolutely no proof, and if he was hiding in plain sight in such a large corporation, then clearly...clearly you weren’t the only recruit to his crusade. You glanced over at him as the helicopter touched down gently. “Tell me one thing, though.”

He looked over, arching an elegant brow.

You swallowed hard, nodding at the sprawling mansion outside the window. “How many of the people here are also your ‘recruits’?”

His smile widened, mischievous and cold. “More than you’d think.”

Up Next: Part III.2 - 5 Months

#tom hiddleston #villain #the art of villainy #hiddlesedit #good to be bad #world domination #loki #avengers reference #fanfic #an offer received #wannabe writer #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #NOT RPF

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mxpseudonym · 4 years

Text

Hell or High Water: Part II

Pairing: Tommy x OC

Summary: Having a detective as a partner pays off when you’re a gangster.

Length: 1704 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Swearing

Ask: Hell or high water is amazing ! can u write a 2nd part where she talks to polly and the rest of the family and maybe something happens so that they learn to trust her ? - Anonymous

A/N: I hope this is up your alley, anon! I was writing this and was lowkey scared for Sara’s future and may make a part III, but I don’t really know.

Part I: Hell or High Water ; Masterlist

It had been nearly a year since Polly had declared Sara what she was: not a Shelby and never to be one. Sara moved back to London for more pressing assignments, and, to her absolute delight, Tommy kept his promise. He got a reasonably sized apartment for himself when he bought Ada's house. Sara would stay there with him when he visited, lovely suspenders and trousers already in the drawers.

"How did you manage all of this?" She asked as she looked into the wardrobe. Tommy wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her shoulder.

"I've got my ways, Miss Miller. One day I'll convince you to move in here too," he mumbled that last bit.

"But then it wouldn't be very inconspicuous would it," she pointed out. Instead of an answer, Tommy tugged her button-down from her trousers and continued her undressing.

Even for a short amount of time, you learn more about someone when you live with someone. Sara already did an impeccably good job at reading him, but she had gotten too good. She never let on, but Sara knew what flour on his pants leg and the lingering smell of illegal rum meant. She also knew that it was only a matter of time before it happened.

"Fuck me," she murmured to herself when she opened the file that was waiting on her desk after lunch. She sat and read up on the man she would surely be in bed with that weekend. "Thomas Michael Shelby, decorated veteran. At least it's interesting." There was a knock at the door, and her boss's pageboy was standing there a folder in hand.

"Chief Harrington would like to see you at the half-hour, Miss," he said. Soon enough, she was sufficiently annoyed with her love and standing in front of her Chief Harrington, file in hand.

"Miller, give me a good reason to not arrest those Peaky Blinder scoundrels right now," Harrington said so calmly. "They've scurried up the river and into Camden and brought a few boatloads of workers with 'em. If nothing else, they're poking at the whole Jewish Italian gang nonsense. Inciting violence, all of 'em." The balding man placed his pipe in his mouth and stoked it.

If she were honest and good at her job, she'd tell him to do it. There was a multitude of sins committed by the razor gang that couldn't be taken back even if they wanted to, which they didn't. The Shelbys were agitating the already war-like street corners in the city. But that's not what she said. Because Sara had been hired by Chief Harrington for her "magic trick." But she was too good. There were things she'd found that he'd tell her to hide. These cops weren't on the straight and narrow, they were all in somebody's pocket. And men like Harrington wanted to be in good graces with the right people. She deserved acting in her best interests sometimes.

"Sir, we can't arrest them," Sara said. "It's out of our jurisdiction until we have evidence. More importantly, your contract is being revisited this year," she said. Harrington looked up in surprise and intrigue. He loved power indeed.

"And?"

"While the Peaky Blinders may be moving into London, it won't be as impressive to stop them as it would to stop, say, Charles Sabini. Also, the Peaky Blinders' leader, Thomas Shelby, is a decorated veteran, Sir. A tunneler. He's been of help to Winston Churchill in recent years."

"Bloody hell," Harrington coughed on his smoke. "Why haven't I heard about this before?"

"It's not well known. I had to do some work to find it," Sara responded vaguely to which he smirked.

"That's right, your little parlor trick. Alright, that's your professional opinion?" He looked her over. Still not happy he couldn't make out her curves, it seemed.

"Yes, that's my professional opinion."

"Bury it then. We'll only revisit if we have to," Harrington told her then promptly shooed her out of the office.

After work, she packed a small bag and took the train to Small Health. The whole time she thought about her relationship with Tommy. Where was it going, and could they actually get there? Their paths would keep crossing like this until one of them stopped. But when would that be? When Tommy went above board? She laughed at that one. That would be a sight to see. But she wouldn't leave her job until she was booted, which didn't seem that unlikely with the way corruption was going. Still, unlikely. She sighed and let her eyes close until it was announced she was at her destination.

The Shelby's had family meetings when needed, and lately, that had been more. Tommy checked his watch in the dim light of his office and began putting his work away. He had reports from London that would, hopefully, shut the worriers up a bit. This was good. A knock sounded at his door, and he told them to come.

"Sara?" He stood as she walked in and looked around.

"This is nice," she commented on his office, picking up a decorative paperweight on her way to him.

"Couldn't wait 'til Saturday?" Tommy moved to the front of his desk and leaned against it. Sara avoided answering any question and decided to kiss him instead. She was even surprised by how passionate it was considering her frustration.

"You're so stupid," she murmured between kisses. Tommy's brow furrowed, but his arms wrapped around her to pull her closer anyway. She sighed into the embrace. "I love you."

"What's wrong," he asked once they were forced to breathe once again. Honestly, he half expected this to be another lecture about him smoking three packs of cigarettes a day when he was supposed to be down to two. He couldn't figure out how she could tell. Maybe it was his shoes?

"Tommy, what have I always said about you and my work?" She asked. The flicker of realization told Sara that Tommy knew exactly what she meant. "The ABC, Tommy? Alfie fucking Solomons?"

"It needs to happen. Don't worry, we won't unionize," Tommy chuckled but stopped when she shook her head.

"I don't just work on unions, Tommy. That was just one assignment. Your file came across my desk today. 100 men shipped to Birmingham doesn't just go under the radar in a gang war," she explained.

"Okay, so what do we need to prepare for? A raid?" His arms left her waist to cross over his chest.

"No, I took care of it. You're okay for now. But you should know this happened." Sara stepped away with a sigh

"What do you mean, took care of it?"

"You have a family meeting in 10 minutes, don't you?" She asked and checked his watch.

"I do. What gave it away this time?"

"You don't just stop working at 8pm. Your lights are off, and you were putting things away when I got here, but you're not tipsy, so you'll be speaking later." She waved off the process and motioned for him to stand. "I'll walk with you and tell you what happened." She only planned to walk to the doors of the betting shop and wait in the Garrison after, but Tommy swept her inside.

"You deserve to be here," was all he said. He never expected Sara to use her job to help them out. Had he hoped? Of course. But she did it on her own. Sara's attempts to object were ignored as he sat her down. His family came bumbling in a moment later, conversation stopping when they saw the young detective at the table.

"What the fuck is this, Tommy," Polly spat, pulling out a cigarette.

"Just listen, Pol. We have some news about London," Tommy told her then motioned them all to sit. It didn't take long to explain, and Sara was there to answer questions about the cops and the law. She told them which policemen were working for Sabini, and who was susceptible to bribing as well. It wasn't her intention, but she was already in deep.

"Good to know, Sara," Arthur nodded, taking a drink of whiskey. It was the first time she'd heard any of the Shelby's positively utter her name.

"I'm always here to help." She smiled and let Tommy wrap up the meeting. Polly still didn't look entirely happy with Sara, especially when she was invited to the Garrison. While Tommy went to talk to his brothers, Sara sought out the Shelby matriarch.

"I won't deny what you're doing for my family. That doesn't mean I'm opening my arms to you," Polly said before taking a drag of her cigarette. "And if you think,"

"Polly," Sara stopped her. Polly was about to snap for being interrupted, but the young detective continued. "I know that Tommy wants you to take me in, but I want you to know it's okay if you don't. I promise. You have a family to protect, and I think you also have yourself to protect."

"I don't need your pity."

"I don't have pity to give," Sara said. "I respect you a whole lot, Polly. I happen to love Tommy a lot too, so I'm not going to stay away from him unless he wants it. But, I'm not going to make you like the law when I think they've hurt you more than some of the others know." She gave Polly a sympathetic smile. "Not that I could force you to do anything anyway."

"You're damn right," said Polly, though her eyes were a bit misty.

"If you ever want to talk, I'm here. I think I, unfortunately, understand what you may have gone through." Sara pulled a card from her pocket and handed it to Polly.

It was a tense situation, but with a little time, things between Sara and the Shelby's worked out. Sure, things got a little less honest at work, but there had to be a trade-off somewhere. Sara liked to think being invited to family dinners by Polly and the few lunches they had in London even warranted some trust. And Polly Shelby's confidence in any person went quite far.

Original ask: May I request something for Tommy Shelby where he falls for a woman who is very unique (wears suits instead of dresses, but still has long hair, is quite like Sherlock Holmes yk knows how to deduce and is a detective, insanely intelligent) and he smiles a lot more etc and his family is a little skeptical since he's a detective and they think she's like Campbell but they both really love each other? - @midwinternightz

Tommy: @soleil-dor

#Tommy Shelby #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Tommy Shelby Imagine #tommy shelby x ofc #Tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #request fulfilled!

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titusmoody · 3 years

Text

It’s the end of the first quarter of 2021. Here’s a brief review of the things I watched/played/read.

Games

Donut County- pretty charming, very easy, fairly satisfying to play. I’d recommend Untitled Goose Game over this, though.

Heaven’s Vault- If you only have room in your life for one space archaeology game, play Outer Wilds instead. However, you get to translate alien writings yourself (in a simplified game way) in this one, so I’d recommend both.

Donkey Kong Country 3 103%- so many fun level mechanics in this one. The difficulty of finding and completing everything in the game was spot-on for me.

Donkey Kong Country 2 102%- Each level mechanic in this one is explored and used in far more interesting ways than DKC3, though I honestly had more fun with 3 this time around. This one is the “dark, edgy” one aesthetically which is extremely dumb. Also, there was a lot of guesswork involved in finding some of the hidden stuff, which I didn’t enjoy.

The Room 4- I like escape room games. This one was good. It continued 3′s trend of trying to shake up the format a little, which is fine (better here than in 3, I think) but I wouldn’t have minded if all 4 stayed exactly the same, just with new puzzles.

Spider-Man: Miles Morales- Everything about it was competent. Not only was each gameplay activity fine-tuned to feel good, but the structure of the game also kept kept you experiencing a good variety of each activity. PS5 graphics are good, too. Nothing about it really got me excited to play it, it was just a good after work unwinding thing.

Cyberpunk 2077- Exactly the opposite of Spider-Man in terms of quality consistency. There are aspects of this game that are amazing, horrible, and every step in between. However, I’ve thought about it quite a bit and will probably continue to think about it for both good and bad reasons.

Yooka-Laylee and the Impossible Lair- Donkey Kong Country has better level design and controls. Well, the best levels of this were every bit as good as the best DKC levels, and maybe I’m just so familiar with DKC levels that I zone out a little during the boring bits, but had to pay attention to every moment of this game. Still, I didn’t have as much of an overall good time as the DKC games I played earlier.

Hue- Good 2D puzzle-platformer. I’m no longer surprised by these, but I still appreciate them, much in the same way as I like playing escape room games. I was under the impression for a few years that because I understood the potential of puzzle platformers, it meant I wouldn’t want to play any more of them, but that’s simply not true. I had a good time with Hue.

Shows

Gravity Falls- It’s fine. Pretty entertaining. I wish there were more low-stakes kinds of episodes, just to get more familiar with different sides of the characters. It would have made the characters and setting feel more rounded.

Cowboy Bepop- I didn’t get the hype for this show when I first watched it at 21, and now I can say that it’s simply not my kind of show. I have much more appreciation for it now than I did the first time, but it doesn’t hit me emotionally the same way that it seems to hit so many people.

Seinfeld- It’s Seinfeld. There was precisely one episode that I had never seen before, plus confirmation that I didn’t dream the episode that’s told in backwards chunks like Memento and is set in India.

Paranoia Agent- While it was disappointing that this ended up being a more simple morality tale than every Satoshi Kon movie I’ve seen, I still enjoyed watching this a lot.

Aggretsuko- I liked the mundane, every-day storylines like a modern, more empathetic Seinfeld. Unfortunately as the show went on, there were more and more wacky situations that no one actually gets into. I might watch the upcoming season if I hear that it’s less ridiculous.

Over the Garden Wall- This was really cool and I’m glad it exists. It’s ten episodes long, which is perfect for it. I thought it was at its weakest during the more lighthearted or humorous moments--precisely the opposite of Gravity Falls. The word “classy” comes to mind to describe this show.

Beastars- Really good when it isn’t falling into anime plot and dialog cliches. A lot of this first season is dedicated to introducing characters and the setting, which I thought was very well done. I’m curious to see what Season 2 is like.

Movies

Scott Pilgrim vs the World- It’s a fun movie to watch. It definitely makes many of the characters’ flaws seem like more fun than it probably should, but I’m more bothered by the criticism I hear that boils down to “it’s a bad movie because the characters are bad people” which I suspect is an impression you only get if you lack both empathy and media comprehension.

Big- Kinda bad. It has iconic moments that are only possible with its weird premise, but it’s just not a premise that supports an entire good movie.

Phantom of the Opera- Way better and way worse than I remember. Has the precise right amount of horses.

Knives Out- Not really a movie I needed to watch a second time, but it sure is good.

District 9- I didn’t remember most of this movie and unfortunately I zoned out for most of this rewatch, so I still feel like I don’t know what it’s about.

From up on Poppy Hill- Not one of the top tier Ghibli movies, but still really good in a down-to-earth way that I like from Ghibli.

Enter the Dragon- I knew to expect everything to be turned up to 11, which is good because it really is a lot. I liked it, though.

Shutter Island- I have never actually liked this kind of twist-reliant movie. I thought I would for many years, but I was always disappointed. At least now I am aware that it’s not what I’m into.

Soul- The premise is much too convoluted, but it does have an excellent moment near the end.

Onward- I liked this one a lot. Why don’t more people talk about this one? It’s definitely better than Coco, which itself was really good.

A Silent Voice- The kind of movie that reminds me that sometimes Japanese storytelling is more to my taste than Hollywood style, in that scenes can be more emotionally ambiguous.

Tangled- Good in exactly the same way as Frozen and Moana. I can’t really complain, but this isn’t the same situation as puzzle platformers or escape rooms. In this case, I do get a little sick of being completely unsurprised. This movie was made first, so it’s only by chance that this is the one that I saw last.

Monsters University- A good movie, but it really doesn’t have to be about the same characters as Monsters Inc.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail- Still funny

The Departed- Good if you want an enjoyable crime thriller to watch, bad if you want a Scorcese movie.

Titanic- Getting very drunk and watching this with Brittany might be the best time I had in the past three months. Maybe I won’t think too hard about why a movie about the overdue, violent death of a social order resonates with me right now.

Prince of Egypt- Impressive and grand, but I didn’t really care about the characters or story.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan- A good but not great (by TNG standards) concept for an episode that was made extremely enjoyable by the added budget and longer runtime of a movie.

Star Trek III: The Search for Spock- Not as good, but still watchable.

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home- The kind of ridiculous concept you’d only make when you’ve already had three successful movies and are confident that you’ll be able to make at least another couple. The gang go back to the 1980s (present day to the original audience) and save the whales. It’s apparently exactly the right movie to watch if this is the third consecutive Star Trek movie you’re watching.

Mamma Mia- A lot of fun, but has weird problems that seem like they would’ve been easy to solve at the script level. Maybe if the conflicts had been introduced early on instead of dragging the whole pace of the movie down for much of the last 20 minutes, I would’ve enjoyed the whole thing.

Books

The Well of Ascension- The second book of a trilogy. Very competent. Introduces a whole lot of minor conflicts that really keep the momentum going and give the characters short-term goals that contribute to the overall plot and their arcs.

The Hero of Ages- The final book in the same trilogy. Equally competent. I wish there had been more long-term payoffs, which is the trade-off you make by stuffing the books full of those short-term conflicts. Spoilers ahead, but not ones that I think ruin the experience of reading. It’s very odd that of three of the central characters, one dies, one becomes a god and then dies, and one becomes God.

Check Please- About as pleasant as it gets. Full of the type of minor character that sitcoms end up running into the ground because they’re too one-note (Creed from The Office, for instance) but in a series with a pre-planned length, there’s no chance for it to get stale. Plus, I really liked both of the lead characters.

Milkman- Good book about “The Troubles” in Ireland. Very odd collection of characters, but the narrator had an extremely enjoyable voice to read.

And Then There Were None- Classic mystery story for a reason. Feels more like a Hitchcock movie than Sherlock Holmes. I read it in one day both because the prose was easy and I wanted to know what happened next. Not much substance to it, unfortunately.

Homegoing- Extremely ambitous book where each chapter is narrated by the descendant of a previous chapter, alternating between two branches of the same family. I liked it quite a bit, though because I only finished it yesterday I don’t have much reflection done yet so my opinion has yet to solidify.

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morganaofcamelot · 4 years

Text

If Wishes Came True (Chapter 4)

Title: If Wishes Came True Chapter IV: Killer on the Loose Pt.II

Fandom: BBC Robin Hood

Ships: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character, Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton, Original Female Character/Original Male Character

Definately an AU - Sir Guy of Gisborne has served the current Sheriff of Nottingham for five years prior to the beginning of the first season, and is considered a part of the family, both by Vaisey and his daughter Valerie. The chapters are from Val’s POV, as she struggles to maintain her youthful innocence in a place that’s all too willing to steal it away from her, and navigate the intrigues of her father. [Many changes from the show, although the fic loosely follows season 1]

Important Note: English is not my first language, so I’d appreciate if you can point out any mistakes I make.

On AO3

Tumblr: Ch I, Ch II, Ch III

Valerie had never seen the guards being so agitated; they ran from corner to corner, checking even the cracks on the walls. That a stone cold killer was hiding in their midst unnerved her; Lady Marian’s stay was also suspicious – Sir Edward was forced into an early retirement, in favor of Vaisey of Nottingham. Maybe her grievances were extended to her person, as well.

The situation laid heavily on Valerie’s soul – on the one hand, she was afraid of the elusive killer who had escaped her father’s justice. On the other, Valerie had made the decision to keep a close watch of Marian. What better way to do that, than to ask for the pleasure of her company in this dire time?

Lady Marian had agreed, and so the two women strolled about with two handpicked guards to protect them should the need arise.

“Your father believes it is Robin Hood is responsible for yesterday’s attack?” Lady Marian asked. Valerie contemplated her answer; the spring air carried the scent of flowers in bloom, and the sunshine felt warm on her face. It was easy to get distracted in such a rare spring morning. Lady Marian seemed to have little patience for it, though. “Lady Valerie,” she said tartly. “Are you not listening?”

Valerie clicked her tongue. “I heard you,” she quipped. “I have thought it over, and again in my head. That Robin Hood is the assaulter, is about the only thing that makes sense.”

Marian was not completely satisfied with her companion’s answer. “Yes, but why? What is it that makes you think he is the culprit?” She pressed.

“Well, I have seen the murderous look in his eyes myself, when he aimed an arrow to my father’s heart.” Valerie offered. “Furthermore, the use of bow and arrow rather gives up his identity. And he knows how to move around this castle unseen. As I said, it makes sense.”

Lady Marian shook her head in disbelief. Why are you so keen on discrediting the facts? Then, Valerie braved a question she wouldn’t otherwise dare to ask.

“You were once betrothed to the man, isn’t that right?”

The older woman paled and Valerie wondered why. It wasn’t a secret, and if it was, it was a poorly kept one. “I-I…Yes. It was a long time ago, and we broke off the engagement when he went to war.”

The younger one lowered her head. “Did you not believe that he would come back?” she asked in a low voice. Her thoughts strayed to Sir Guy, her brother in all but blood. Had she never worried about his well-being while he was off doing her father’s bidding? Had she not cried in the privacy of her bedchamber, when days had gone by and no news of him had reached them?

Valerie had done all these things and more for a man who wasn’t even promised to her. She remembered how her heart ached, making it impossible to sleep. When she was younger, she had told herself that she felt this way because Sir Guy was the closest thing to a brother, and a friend. As of lately, she had found herself to be mistaken.

It was Marian’s voice that brought her back the solid earth and the grim present. “I guess I did not want a man that would choose war over me, and he thought it his duty to release me.”

Yes, Valerie thought. I can understand that.

“May I ask you a question, Lady Valerie?”

She nodded. “Your lord father, he is not particularly fond of women. I have heard him speak with less than favorable terms of them. But what about your mother?” Marian’s inquiry took Valerie by surprise. It was an attempt to change the painful subject of being discarded in favor of warmongering.

“Oh, he loved my mother, there is no question about it. He often told me that the only other woman he would give his heart to would be I. He kept true to his word, even as the fancy ladies lined up, seeking his approval.” Valerie recalled with a smile on her face. A strange time, it was, when her father was first proclaimed a sheriff. He had barely spared them a look.

“What happened to her?” Marian asked with genuine interest. She has lost her mother, too. Valerie reminded herself.

This was an old, painful memory Valerie tried to conjure. She was burning with fever at the time, and she was really young. She only remembers her mother’s coughs, and the blood that trickled from her mouth.

“She suffered a very bad case of consumption,” Valerie started. “I was four or five, at the time and suffering from this malady myself, although my bout was much milder. She died a few weeks after, while I was still bedridden, but well on the road of recovery.”

Marian offered her sympathies. “I never got to know my mother,” she said, sadness heavily laced in her voice. “She died from childbed fever.

“I am very sorry,” Valerie offered, patting Marian’s back. Marian’s answer was a smile. “Shall we start back? Lunch will be served soon.”

“Yes,” Marian said. “I am very hungry.” A giggle escaped her, and Valerie mimicked her, musing on her feelings about this very strange woman. She has charm in abundance, Valerie’s mind supplied. No wonder Guy is so taken with her.

They made their way to the castle courtyard, their hands adjoint, their spirits a little lighter. It all changed when they neared the steps.

The familiar woosh of an arrow flying was heard. A grunt of pain from behind them; one of the guards had been shot straight at the neck, the wooden shaft protruding. Valerie saw him gurgle on his own blood, and turned her head away. She did not like the sight of blood. Their other guard drew his sword, but he was rendered useless when another arrow hit him on his sword arm. He screamed in pain and dropped his sword.

“Go!” Valerie shouted to Marian, grabbing the sword of the dead guard. “Now,” and the women raced up their stairs, holding their skirts. “We should split,” Valerie suggested. “I’ll go this way.” Without waiting for a response, she ran. She just hoped Marian would know to hide, since she isn’t the killer, apparently.

The sight of a guard a few paces away was a welcoming sight. “Guard!” She shouted with all the authority her status gave her – she was after all, the lady of this castle. “Raise the alarm. Hood is here!” She was frantically panting, her breath winded from all the running, and her chest burning from the spring dust. She had survived consumption, but long-lasting effects still remained with her.

The guard had not move, instead he just examined her. She was close enough to him by now, her mind slowly settling in. “Are you deaf? I told you to sound th-“

The gleam of steel flashed before her eyes. The guard was raising his sword to her. By instinct, the forgotten blade in her hand was raised to block the violent assault. He seemed surprised, as if he was not expecting her to be able to defend herself. She thanked Guy and his lessons, they might just keep her alive for a few moments longer.

Taken aback as he was, he was also quite determined to kill her. Valerie used the little time she had to correct her stance, to better face the traitor. She hadn’t been taught any offensive moves, but a loyal guard might come to help her. Then, a flurry of attacks hit her one after the other. Most she parried, albeit with much strain, others she blocked, and some slipped by her, despite her best of efforts. Still, there was no sight of help.

She held her sword with two hands now, because her right hand – her sword arm, Guy’s voice supplied – was tired and burning from the exertion. This was not as she had practiced in the abandoned side of the stable with Guy. He had been going easy on her, all this time.

Her breathing was heavy, too heavy. It made her head with swim. Still, she could not give up now. She was Vaisey’s daughter, and if there was one thing her father had taught her was to never give u-

She felt the blunt of the blade hit her straight on the side of her head. She was engulfed in darkness before she hit the ground.

***

When she came around, she was lain on a very uncomfortable kind of bed – too narrow, with no mattress or pillows. Her head ached as if the whole castle had fallen upon her and the buzzing of voices didn’t help.

A grunt escaped, attracting their attention.

Her father’s voice was the first she heard closely to her ear – somebody had come to save her, after all. “Hush, darling, you will be alright. The physician had assured me. Just some cuts and bruises, is all.”

“Father,” she said and opened her eyes. There he was, standing upon her, his hands cradling hers, the concern written all over his face.

Just as her head was relishing the sudden quiet, the thunderous voice of Guy was demanding answers.

“What is going on here? Three people have been killed under your nose!” he demanded. Curious, Valerie raised her head a little – it was Sir Marcus that Guy was raging against.

The master-at-arms was cool in his response. “It is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?!” Guy was now seething with the eerie quiet menace. “Valerie’s life was in peril and you call that unfortunate? It is incompetent!”

“And what have you achieved, so far?” the other man challenged. “You have discovered a food storage, some layabout outlaws roaming the woods, a few hastily ridden off horses, but Hood is still on the loose.”

“At least I have found something! And I have not endangered the lives of those in this castle”

“Stop it, you couple of women!” Her father hissed. “Be rest assured, Gisborne, that Sir Marcus will be held accountable for this, but not now. This is not the time to fight amongst ourselves.”

Sir Marcus bowed his head and left the room. Sir Guy was offered a goblet of wine from Lady Marian. He silently thanked her and drank it with one long gulp. “Lady Valerie,” he said, approaching the stretcher. “How are you feeling?” His voice was not devoid of emotion, but in her state she could not figure it.

“I-I,” her throat was dry. Realizing this, Sir Guy passed her the water from the table. Her father helped her sit uptight, his touch tender. She took small sips at first, but her thirst was awakened soon. She emptied the goblet. Better, she thought. “Cuts and bruises, Sir Guy.” She said slowly. He exchanged a glance with the sheriff, which Valerie did not miss. “Although I feel like my head has been split in two.”

Her father hastily assured her that everything was alright and that she should rest. The physician had declared her in good health, and that tomorrow morning he would examine her again and then order her to her chambers.

It felt too good to be true. “What about the guard that attacked me?” She asked, remembering his passion in seeing her dead. “Was he an associate of Hood?”

Sir Guy wanted an answer to this, as well, she knew. He had been out with his men chasing the blasted outlaw. “He certainly sympathizes with his cause, but he hasn’t been very forthcoming insofar. I hope that now Gisborne is back, he can make the man talk.”

The black-clad knight nodded in agreement. “On my way, my lord.” He took Valerie’s hand and kissed it in a true gallant fashion. Then he retreated, sparing an apologetic look at Marian.

“Was he truly a guard, my lord, or was he an impostor?” Marian’s question held some suggestion in it.

From the way her father pondered on it before giving his answer, made Valerie believe that none of them had thought of it so far. “Sir Marcus will undoubtedly figure it out – after all, he is the one responsible for every recruit. Him – and the Captain of the Guard.”

So, Valerie concluded, nobody had thought of it, so far. “If he is a corrupt guard, then he should hang, isn’t that right, father?”

He reassured her. “He will hang either way.”

Her head hurt from all the thinking she had to do. If only he’d been a little more forthcoming with information, she wouldn’t strain her mental capacity that much. “Which means that you are keeping him alive, in hopes that he would give you names. Names, like his likeminded peers and so on.”

The sheriff smiled. His daughter was smart, indeed. “Yes, my darling daughter. This is exactly what we’re hoping for.”

She found it in her heart to smile. The left side of her face wasn’t cooperating as much as she’d like to. “But, how would be able to tell whether the people he gives up are genuine peers of his? He could easily name the most loyal to you, in hopes of weakening you and the defense of this castle. He will still hang, but he’ll take a few men with him.”

The shock on their faces was evident. The sheriff recovered quickly, however. Before he made some speech or another, Valerie spoke again.

“Can I have a mirror? There’s something seriously wrong with my face.”

Her father agreed with a grim, tight smile. It didn’t bode well for her, she knew. Lady Marian produced a handheld mirror, gingerly offering it.

Valerie’s fingers felt weak, but she closed them around the hilt all the same. Steadying her breaths, she dared to look at her reflection.

The moment she gasped, her father placed his hands on her back, soothing her. It was a most hideous sight to behold and as soon as her gaze lingered on the large mauve bruise that covered most of the left side, the swelling accompanying it, and the little scar that above her eyebrow, where the sharp edge of the sword had met with her head, a stream of tears fell down her face. Lady Marian quickly took the mirror off her hand and her father embraced her.

“Hush, my darling,” he was almost pleading. “It will soon pass.”

And to think that Sir Guy had seen her like this…

She wished that she could kill that guard with her bare hands. She wished that he could inflict the same pain upon him. She took solace in the thought that her father would deliver justice on her behalf.

#robin hood bbc #bbc robin hood #guy of gisborne #guy of gisborne x original female character #*mine

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squeezeofthehand · 4 years

Text

A (late) Review of Moby-Dick: A Musical Reckoning

I saw Moby-Dick: A Musical Reckoning by Dave Malloy last month, and I can basically divide it into “The Good, The Bad, and the Racist/Queerphobic/Ableist etc”

Some background: As most people who’ve ever spoken to me will know, I have a special interest in Moby-Dick AND Dave Malloy/Rachel Chavkin musicals (I truly believe that Great Comet is one of the best works of all time) and I consider Malloy and Chavkin both to be my biggest heroes and inspirations, at least when it comes to their respective style of writing and directing. That being said, they’re not perfect. I waited for this musical for about two years, and music/set/etc wise it exceeded my expectations, but it also majorly let me down in a lot of ways.

The Good: The cast! The crew! The set! (It was literally The Pequod - like, they got rid of the stage.) The lighting design in particular was really good - thank you, Bradley King. Manik Choksi, Andrew Cristi, and Starr Busby are gods. I do not have a singular bad thing to say about the cast or the design team! Even the stuff that was tacky/campy (i.e. some of the puppets) was tacky/campy in an enjoyable way. And the “fun” parts of the show were REALLY fun - the fact that they invited the audience on stage, the fact that they TRIED to make Moby-Dick more accessible even if they didn’t do it perfectly at times….the music, when not problematic, was BEAUTIFUL. Listen, I’d be lying if I said Dave Malloy wasn’t one of the best composers when it comes to skill. Everyone in that show sure can act, and sing…the band too, was marvelous, I heard no errors from anyone. This is, what, a three hour long show? And the cast/band was just like, “oh, no big deal.” Which makes “the bad” and “the racist” even worse because these people deserve better. This show deserves better, it deserves to be better.

The Bad: Well, as a book fan, I disagreed with a lot of characterization…most of which can fall into The Racist etc, so I’ll just focus on the “bad but not inherently problematic” here. I really didn’t agree with a lot of things about Ahab’s characterization, i.e. I did not read him as just a bad white guy who’s the epitome of privilege. Stubb, on the other hand is, a canon white supremacist in the book and that barely gets acknowledged in the ways that it should. I do get what Dave was trying to go for, especially in re: Ahab & climate change, but this wasn’t the show for it - or at least, Ahab wasn’t the character for it. Which brings me to my next point: Most of the time, I’m a fan of the quirky Malloyian anachronisms and parallels to modern day issues, but I feel like he was trying too hard here and stepping out of line. Loose adaptations can be fun, anachronistic adaptations can be fun, even INACCURATE adaptations can be fun…but this just wasn’t. It didn’t feel like Moby-Dick, but more like a story vaguely inspired by it. If that had been what he was going for, it would’ve been fine, but he really acted like this would be an accurate adaptation of the book, so I felt let down. The only anachronism/breaking of the fourth wall that I somewhat liked were the talks of Melville and Hawthorne, honestly, and even those I’d sacrifice in favor for accuracy to the source.

And now…The racist/etc.

So.

Where to begin? I suppose chronologically. Queequeg. Who, according to Dave Malloy, is a stereotypical flamboyant queer person of color! and also a quirky cannibal! He’s trans in the musical, apparently, but there’s not much indication of that in the show beyond from him wearing a binder and a skirt. Now, I am all for trans Queequeg of course, but he was a caricature in this particular adaptation. I do not blame Andrew Cristi. I blame Dave (and mayyyybe the costume designers to some extent). I felt baited. Also, early production rumors and quotes said that there would be a song in which Queequeg saved someone from drowning. That never happened. It pains me to say it, but he didn’t feel that much like an important character (due to the bad writing -- again, it has nothing to do with the actor).

Additionally, Dave Malloy said that Queequeg and Ishmael would be a clear gay relationship…but the musical left so much room for them to just be interpreted as friends. It somehow became less gay than it is in the original Melville novel. The marriage was excluded, as were the quotes about them being a cozy and loving pair and about Queequeg holding Ishmael like a wife. They were replaced with the “I don’t wanna sleep with a cannibal” song, which was fun to watch at first but way too grossly stereotypical for me to genuinely enjoy it. Queequeg deserves a fun and light-hearted song, but he does not deserve a racist/homophobic one. My advice? Replace it with the actual chapters from the book, please. I do like the fact that The Pacific was a romantic duet and that they sing directly at each other during Squeeze Of The Hand, but those two songs are mere scraps especially compared to, for example, the Bosom Friend chapter of the book. It looked like they were going to kiss during The Pacific and I was very disappointed that they did not. Perhaps the team should keep the songs the way that they are for future productions, but add more romantic staging.

Pip-not-Pip/Elijah/??? (Ashkon Davaran’s character) and Fedallah were also major, major, issues. Not the actors, I love them. Not the book characters, I love them. But the musical characters.

Basically, Fedallah gets this 20 minute long monologue that can be summed up as “religion is bad” and a lot of other things including but not limited to egotistical fake-woke praise on color conscious casting and how badly America is fucked. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that Fedallah is Parsi and Zoroastranian in the book (and it is NOT good rep in the book by any means, trust me, I’ve been calling Malloy out on his racism but I can’t act as if book!Fedallah was anything less than an ~exotic caricature~ either). However, that’s beside the point, at least in this review. Musical!Fedallah is not Parsi nor Zoroastranian. Don’t read this the wrong way, I’m all for Black Muslim rep! But with a character who is already canonically something else? Take a white character and make them a Black Muslim, I encourage that, but when a character is already something else, no.

If the monologue was influenced/written by the actor, that’s one thing and I’d have less issue with it, but I think Dave wrote the vast majority of it, which…yikes…

My constructive criticism: Cut the Fedallah monologue. If the creative team still wants the actor/character to have the same amount of stage-time as he does now, replace it with a different monologue, maybe something from the book? Something about whaling history?

Another thing that needs to be cut or at least completely rewritten: Tambourine. The song starts off with an ableist verse that can be summed up as “you think you’re crazy because you get nervous on the subway? No! I’m more crazy than you!” Don’t take this as me saying that Pip’s trauma/PTSD shouldn’t be addressed at all, but this is the absolute worst way to address it. The song also has a lot of performative lines such as “is god cisgender?” Which, considering this is the same musical that also has trans bait, I truly hate it. Not that I think God should ever be viewed as a cis white man, but much like the “America is awful” stuff in the Fedallah Monologue, this is an offensive and fake-woke way to address such a topic.

Part IV was really heart-wrenchingly beautiful. No criticism there.

To summarize by part-

Part I: Cut/replace the campy Queeqeug song, but otherwise keep it as it is.

Part II: Cut/replace the racist and xenophobic Fedallah monologue.

Part III: Cut/replace Tambourine. The rest of the Ballad Of Pip (starting with Kim Blanck’s beautiful song) is alright. Good, even.

Part IV: Great! No editing needed besides from the typical tweaking that writers may choose to do after their first draft.

In general: Make Ishmael/Queequeg more obvious, make Queequeg less of a caricature, do some major editing to Fedallah and Pip-Not-Pip/Elijah/???. Tambourine and Fedallah’s Monologue need to be completely rewritten, but I get that the creative team may not want to take scenes away from the actors, which is why I encourage them to remove all of the racist bs and create something completely new/different for the actors to perform.

I understand that Moby-Dick is clearly a work-in-progress on all levels. I do not dislike for the show for being a scrappy rough draft. I judge it for its racist, homophobic, ableist, etc messages. Dave has acknowledged that this first copy is far from perfect, and I sincerely hope that the racism/etc. is the first and main thing that he fixes.

#moby dick #moby dick: a musical reckoning #dave malloy #call me sky #reviews

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kumeko · 4 years

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Title: highly improper

A/N: For scientias for the FFXV Secret Santa! I saw the Merlin AU prompt and this just jumped from my hands! XD I didn’t expect to write this much! Originally I was going to put Luna in too but I couldn’t make her fit.

…

Ignis stood on his tippy toes, his arms hanging onto the crib bars tightly as he peered down at the baby sleeping inside. Deep asleep, the baby lay flat on his back, his limbs splayed as he dreamt. Wisps of black hair crowned his head and Ignis tried to imagine the King’s golden crown on this tiny head.

“Watching the baby again, Ignis?” King Regis softly stepped inside, quietly approaching them. His footsteps were muffled on the plush carpet. Looking down in the crib, he pulled the blanket tighter around the little prince with a smile. “Finally asleep, I see.”

“He stopped crying an hour ago,” Ignis dutifully reported, untangling his arms. He quickly bowed to the king. “Sire.”

“I see.” The king’s brow knit, his expression darkening slightly. “He’ll need all the rest he can get. His destiny is a heavy one. The gods have tasked him with saving our kingdom, our world.”

Ignis’s eyes widened. Noctis’s hands could barely wrap around Ignis’s finger, and they were expected to not only rule a kingdom, but also save the world? “Really?”

“Really.” Regis crouched down, resting a hand on his shoulder. “When that times comes, he’ll need a companion. Will you be there for him?”

“Of course,” Ignis chirped, no doubts in his mind. If he could help his father, help his king, help the prince, he’d do in a heartbeat. He glanced at the prince between the bars, at his chubby red cheeks and tiny fists.

Noctis would save the world one day.

Ignis just had to make sure he got there.

ii.

“Your highness, it’s morning,” Ignis announced, entering Noctis’s chambers. He closed the heavy wooden door behind him when it was apparent that the prince hadn’t awoken yet. As usual. There were many ways to describe Noctis but an early riser was not one of them. Clicking his tongue, Ignis drew open the thick curtains, flooding the room with the bright morning light. “Wake up.”

Noctis groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. “Five more minutes.”

“Zero more minutes,” Ignis corrected, rubbing his forehead tiredly. They played this game every day and he didn’t know who the bigger fool was—Noctis for thinking it’d work, or Ignis for expecting him to change. “You have jousting and sword practice this morning, before we take a tour of the guards. You barely have time for breakfast, let alone sleeping in.”

“One more minute,” Noctis recanted, as though that made much of a difference. The blankets tangled around his legs as he burrowed deeper into his pillows.

“Zero means zero, your highness.” With a sigh, Ignis stepped forward and yanked the bedsheets off. The usual pattern it was, then.

Noctis shivered as the chilly air hit him. “It’s so cold!” Languidly, he stretched his arms above his head as he slowly sat up. “Do I issue the orders or you?” he complained, his tone belligerent.

“I am waking you up,” Ignis pointed out, rolling his eyes as he opened Noctis’s drawers. Selecting a fine woolen tunic and matching pants, he laid them down on the bed. “You slept a good two hours longer than I did, sire.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Noctis sighed, balefully glaring up at him.

“Sire, if you continue to look at me like that, I will call Prompto to wake you up. Or maybe Gladiolus would do?” Ignis crossed his arms, raising his brow. In this room, in the familiarity of their years, he could get away with little challenges like this.

“No, no, I’m good.” Noctis sat up immediately, giving up the jig. Ignis wasn’t sure which of the two scared Noctis more—Prompto’s overenthusiasm or Gladiolus no-nonsense attitude. He slipped off the bed, his hands on his back as he stretched backwards until a soft crack was heard. “So, what’d you say was first? Jousting?”

“Yes, you’ve missed the last two practices so Gladiolus will be a little…aggressive,” Ignis explained.

“That’s putting it lightly.” Noctis winced, spreading his arms out.

“Very lightly,” Ignis agreed, taking a deep breath before he pulled off Noctis’s shirt. He could do this. He could—the sight of Noctis’s chest, his pale skin bathed in the sunlight, made his mouth go dry. His heart beat so hard, he wasn’t sure how Noctis couldn’t hear it. Swallowing, he turned away as he folded Noctis’s shirt. It was okay, he just had to put the new shirt on. He had this.

“I’m going to get so bruised.” Noctis shuddered. “Make sure the creams are ready, I’m going to need them.”

“Y-yes.” He could feel his smile strain. Creams meant rubbing them on meant touching Noctis—

This had been so much easier when they were children.

iii.

“HIYAAAH,” Gladiolus roared, his mount charging down the field like an angry boar. His horse was already a monster at eighteen hands. With Gladiolus’s bulk added on top of it, it was like watching a titan attack a fly.

A fly that also happened to be the prince.

Noctis swung his lance but it was too late. He grunted as he took the full brunt of the attack, falling hard onto the ground.

“Your Highness!” Ignis ran up the field. They were wearing armour and the lances were wood, but either way that had to hurt. Crouching next to Noctis, he quickly helped his liege into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”

“No,” grunted Noctis, a scowl on his face as he yanked off his helmet. He glared at Gladiolus. “You could go a little easier, you know.”

“Then you would never learn, your highness,” Gladiolus answered cockily, and perhaps it was a good thing they had all known each other since childhood. Any other noble would have had his head for the way he acted. “Now, get back on your horse.”

“So you can murder me?” grumbled Noctis. Despite his frown, he slowly pushed himself off the ground.

“Wait!” Ignis grabbed one of Noctis’s arms. “Are you sure you want do this? You could be hurt. You might already be hurt. Maybe we should check with—”

“Worrywart.” Noctis’s frown melted into an exasperated smile and he shook his head. “This happens every day, you don’t need to be so worried all the time. Nothing’s broken, just a few bruises. I wish he’d hold back a little.”

“Me too,” Ignis muttered, biting his lip. Worry welled within nonetheless, a fear that Noctis’s smile couldn’t erase.

Noctis smirked over his shoulder at his knight. “Besides, we can’t keep Gladdy waiting.”

Astride his horse, Gladiolus lifted his visor. Even from here, Ignis felt a shiver run up his spine from the cold look he shot them. “You’ve been spending time with Iris.”

“...it is better to deny that,” Ignis whispered.

“It’s not like he can kill me,” Noctis retorted quietly.

He shook his head. “There are some things worse than death.”

iv.

“Again?” Cindy lifted the heavy plates of armour with ease, giving a low whistle as she inspected the dents and cracks. She frowned as her finger traced a particularly ragged line, a frown that grew deeper as she realized just how much damage Noctis’s armour had gone through. Poking her head over it, she glared at Ignis. “Really? Do you know how much work I put in this?”

“I do, and I am sorry again that we have to take so much of your time.” Ignis rubbed his neck awkwardly, feeling flustered under her angry gaze. No matter how many times he’d faced it, it never got easier, and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad that her grandpa had retired, leaving the castle smithy to her. At least there was one less glare at him.

“I just repaired it two days ago!” She set the armour down on her work bench. Crossing her arms, she turned back to him. “What’re you doing, beating it with a hammer? Fighting in a war? I’ll have you know none of the other guards, knights, or nobles give me half as much trouble as the prince.”

Because none of them are trained by Gladiolus, Ignis almost retorted. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and offered a sympathetic smile. “Your work is exceptional, which is why the prince knows he can trust this matter to you.”

“The prince knows I can’t refuse, otherwise I would have stopped taking any work from him.” Cindy sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know why I try with his things, I just know it’ll get destroyed.”

Sensing her crack, Ignis walked next to her and squeezed her shoulder. “Your work is exemplary and should be the example for any blacksmith.”

“Yeah, yeah, just buttering me up.” She grinned anyways. Grabbing a pair of ash-covered gloves, she glanced at Ignis. “Do you give this sweet talk to the prince too?”

Ignis replied with an elegant, “Huh?”

“What, you think I don’t have eyes?” Cindy snorted, pulling out her hammers as she set up her work bench. “I’ve seen how you look at him. How he looks at you.”

“Why I never!” Ignis protested, his cheeks burning at the insinuation. The absolutely false, definitely not true accusation.

Cindy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, you haven’t—”

“I definitely haven’t,” Ignis confirmed quickly, wanting to squash this idea before it found purchase. And definitely before anyone else heard it.

“I see.” She grinned impishly and he had seen that expression on Prompto’s face too many times before to know where this was going. He should never have introduced her to the stable boy. “Well, if you say so.”

Sensing a trap, he scrutinized her warily. “I do.”

“Well, he is a prince after all.” She shrugged, still smiling slyly. “It’d be improper to act rashly.”

“It’d be improper, period,” Ignis corrected her firmly.

“Which is why you’re waiting for the perfect, romantic moment,” Cindy continued, not hearing him at all.

“I’m not!” Ignis growled.

Cindy laughed. “Sure you’re not.”

Noctis glanced over his shoulder, his hands loose on the reins of his steed. “It’s strange. I keep expecting to see someone behind us.”

Ignis looked over his shoulder as well. Behind them, the forest path was completely empty for once. There were no signs of the usual guards, no cloaked knights on vigilant alert as they sat tall on their horses. It even sounded quieter than normal, without the extra whickers from other horses. “Me too, your highness. Though we are still within the castle’s forest, so it should be safe enough here.”

“No, that’s not what I…” Noctis ran a hand through his hair, before giving a shy smile. “I just meant, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. Without actually having to worry about work or lessons or anything.”

“Oh.” Ignis flushed lightly as he realised that they were alone. Truly alone. No servants in the next room, no guards in the shadows, nothing. Not even the prying eyes of villagers. “You’re right, it has been a while. Not since we were children, I believe, your highness.”

“Forever, basically. And, just call me Noctis.” When Ignis opened his mouth to protest, Noctis shook his head. “It’s fine, we’re alone.”

That didn’t make it fine, not in the least. They were still prince and attendant, still divided by an invisible barrier that remained in place no matter who was there. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from uttering, “Noctis.”

“Yeah.” Noctis smiled whole-heartedly, his eyes crinkling just so, and Ignis stared, transfixed. “Just like that. I kinda miss when we were kids—you used to be less formal.” He paused, then corrected himself. “Slightly less formal.”

“A problem I have thoroughly corrected,” Ignis finally replied, regaining his voice. His heart was in his throat and it was hard to keep his voice calm, to keep himself collected. He forced his eyes way and stare at the path ahead instead. At least his mount kept a steady pace, trotting along without any realizations of the issues his rider was having.

“It wasn’t a problem. I liked it better that way.” Noctis leaned back slightly, staring up at trees. His bangs covered his eyes and his next words were careful. “We were…closer then.”

Ignis peeked at him from the corner of his eyes, unable to read his liege’s expression. “We grew up, as children are wont to do.”

“I guess.” Noctis looked down at his hands for a long moment. The only sound was the steady clip-clop of their horses as they traversed the dirt path. A deep breath and he stood up straight, his jaw set. Pulling his horse to a stop, he shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Pressing his right leg, Ignis guided his horse to turn around and ride back to Noctis. Stopping next to him, he cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”

“This. All of this.” Noctis shook his head once more. “We…we don’t have to grow apart.” As he spoke, his hand reached out, his fingers almost brushing Ignis’s hand. “I don’t want that, I want us to—”

It had been easier, when they were children. When Ignis could touch and be touched by Noctis and think nothing of it. When he could watch Noctis get hurt and think only of his improvement, when he could spend long hours helping with paperwork and not feel the small gap between their shoulders as though it were a physical presence.

But they weren’t children, not anymore, and Ignis could only see the possibilities in that potential touch, the torrent of words within him just waiting to pour out. His heart was in his throat, full and ready to speak, but he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t.

It was almost reflexive, his flinch. His draw back. Ignis pulled away, just out of reach.

Noctis stared at him, shocked. His eyes widened, hurt crossing his face, his fingers still hovering where Ignis’s used to be.

Immediately, Ignis realized he’d made the wrong move. “Noctis…”

“Fine.” Noctis’s fingers curled into a fist, his brow narrowed. With a click of his tongue, he urged his horse into a gallop, leaving Ignis behind in the dust.

vii.

“So this is where you’re sulking!” Pitchfork hanging off his shoulder, Prompto entered the box stall. The door closed behind with a click and he cocked his head. “I think the prince’s horse is all cleaned now.”

“I’m not sulking,” Ignis retorted, barely sparing the brazen interloper a glance before returning to Noctis’s black stallion, Regalia. A brush in hand, he firmly stroked the mount’s side. “And I need to just finish checking his hooves.”

“I swear you go overboard on everything.” Prompto rolled his eyes, setting his pitchfork on the ground. He crossed his arms over the handle and rested his chin on his arms. “And you are totally sulking.”

“I’m not,” Ignis snapped back, shooting him a dirty glare. “Don’t you have more important matters to attend? Your job? These stables are in need of cleaning.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on me.” Prompto pouted, his cheeks puffed and lip jutted out. “Is it because you and Noctis fought?”

“Your highness,” Ignis corrected automatically, they’d had this argument too many times before. Registering what Prompto said, he froze. “What makes you think we fought?”

“The way he’s trashing Gladdy?” Prompto gave a playful grin. “And so it was a fight?”

“I…I didn’t…” Ignis slumped his shoulders. “Is he that angry?”

“Hmmm…” Prompto tapped his chin, considering it. “Well, Gladiolus did say he’d never seen Noctis so aggressive before. And Noctis kinda just glared at me when I brought up your name. So. There’s that.”

Ignis closed his eyes. Well, he did deserve this, rebuking the prince like that. He didn’t even let the prince finish speaking before reacting, it could have just been something ordinary, like a renewal of friendship. “I didn’t intend for this.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Prompto softened. Setting the pitchfork to the side, he approached Ignis and squeezed his shoulder. “You always mean well. Sometimes too well.”

“It’s just…” Ignis stared at the black hide of Regalia, as though the answers could be found in the whirls of his hair. “I want to make sure he’s happy. Always. To help him with his duties and try to ease the burden he has.”

And to keep these feelings of his sealed away, forever.

“I know you do. You’ve always put him first. But,” Prompto asked thoughtfully, peering up at him. “You know, he always seems happiest with you. Have you ever thought of that?”

viii.

The evening breeze was chilly and Ignis shivered as he nudged open the doors to the rooftop. On the western tower, there was no night-watch or prying eyes. Only the roosting pigeons knew of what transpired here, their coos filling the air as Ignis stepped out onto the exposed roof.

Ahead of him was Noctis, sitting on the bench they’d set up when they were children. A secret base, as the prince liked to call it. A place where he could be alone. He’d often come here when he was angry or sad. All of which meant that Prompto hadn’t been teasing earlier. Or at least, only teasing.

Saying nothing, Ignis walked forward carefully, a small tray in his hands. The heat from Noctis’s favourite soup wafted up to his nose and he was glad that the food was keeping warm. “Your highness.”

Noctis didn’t say anything, his back rigid, his eyes staring straight ahead as the sun slowly set.

Ignis hesitated. Taking a deep breath, he quickly said, “Noctis.” His ears burned.

At that, Noctis turned his head, acknowledging his presence. He still didn’t say anything but he moved to the side, making room on the bench for him. Grateful, Ignis sat down next to him, setting down the tray on the space next to him. He folded his hands on his lap. Noctis softly inhaled, exhaled, a sound as familiar as Ignis’s own heartbeat. “I’m sorry.”

Noctis didn’t reply.

“I…” Ignis couldn’t say why he really pulled away. Couldn’t break this fragile thing between them. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Softly, Noctis sighed. He rested his forehead on his hand, his head angled slightly to look up at Ignis. “I know. You never do.” His expression was still dark. “It’s just…I…” Gritting his teeth, he curled into himself. “Never mind, just…just forget about what I did.”

“Never.” Ignis shook his head. Noctis had never looked so small before. So vulnerable. And it was all because of him and his inability to keep his feelings in check. “I also miss how close we used to be. It’s just…our positions…you’re the prince and I…”

“Is that it?” Noctis sat up and leaned close, too close. Ignis barely had time to register his presence before Noctis’s hands were on his shoulder, keeping him in place. “Is that all that’s stopping you?”

“Noctis?” Ignis glanced nervously at the door. If anyone found them in such a compromising situation…heads would roll. His own, possibly.

“Is that all?” Noctis repeated, unconcerned.

“It’s a big thing,” Ignis protested. “You’re the heir to the throne. I’m a commoner.”

“You’re right, I’m the heir to the throne.” Noctis leaned closer and Ignis could see his long eyelashes, the flecks of grey in his eyes. His hands shook slightly. “So who can tell me that this is wrong?” The gap between their bodies, their lips, was so small. Ignis could feel Noctis’s heat radiating onto his skip, feel his breath on his face. “Who can tell me not to love you?”

Love? Ignis’s mind went blank. Noctis closed the gap, kissing him hungrily and any thoughts he still had disappeared entirely. All he could feel was Noctis, his hands digging into Ignis’s back as he held him tight, deepening the kiss. And god, his lips were soft, so soft, just as he’d imagined for years, and his arms were strong and—

And he was kissing the prince. Ignis pulled back in a panic. “Your highness!”

“Noctis,” Noctis admonished, a small pout on his face. “What’s wrong now?”

“I…you…this is highly improper!” Ignis blushed a furious red.

“I thought…” Noctis turned red himself, retracting quickly. Realization dawned on his face. “This…you didn’t mean…” He buried his face in his hands. “Oh god.”

“No, I did—I mean, I didn’t…” Ignis took a deep breath, trying to regain some measure of coherence. “You like me.”

Head still buried in his hands, Noctis nodded.

“Oh.” Ignis felt his skin burn even hotter, his heart doing funny things inside his chest. Noctis loved him too. This wasn’t a one-sided pining. Not now, at least.

Suddenly, he understood Noctis’s reaction when they were horse riding. He’d taken it as a rejection. Resting a hand on Noctis’s back, his other hand pried Noctis out of hiding and gently pulled him up into a seated position. “Me too,” he admitted. “I like you too.”

Noctis blinked, confused. “Then…”

“I…” Ignis touched his lips with a hand. “That was…” He smiled, pleased for a moment, before remembering himself. Remembering who they were. “That was improper.”

Noctis frowned. “Ignis, I’m the prince. I’ll decide what’s improper or not.”

“But—”

“I love you, but sometimes you talk entirely too much.” Noctis wrapped an arm around Ignis, the other hand tangled in his hair. “Do you love me?”

There was no where to turn, to hide. “Yes,” Ignis admitted, unable to lie when Noctis was staring at him so intensely.

“Good, that’s all I need.” Noctis smiled brightly and leaned forward to kiss him again.

In the part of Ignis’s brain that was still functioning, he hoped he’d remembered to lock the door.

#ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #ignoct #noctnis #ffxv #ff15 #gladiolus amiticia #prompto argentum #cindy aurum #fanfic #i like playing with the merlin au #and this thing turned into a monster #ahahah

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seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 3 years

Text

Like her - Bucky Barnes [V]

Hello and welcome to the fifth part. Guys, I honestly don’t know where this is heading to but I do know that the next chapters are going to be speeding things up a bit. I you want to be tagger or swing by and give me any kind of idea, feel free to tell me! Warnings: This is a rather triggering chapter. Ptsd, nightmares, a bit of depression-like symptoms. Just watch out. Word Count~3k. MASTERLIST

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Bucky had never been completely honest with anyone. He was still tormented by his past, albeit way less than his previous days. At first, there were nightmares, so livid he could swear he was awake; he had been screaming in pain, waking up at three in the morning only to find out that he was utterly alone. Lately, he had to deal with sheets tangled up to his throat, a heart rate to match that feeling, but so screams. He had managed to hide his jumpiness at the loud noises, but that was never leaving him – he was more than alert every time a noise was heard. That didn’t come alone, thought; he became afraid of big crowds and small spaces, his breath was hitching and he was going into a shock, or rather a panic attack. But that was accompanying him since his first day into Hydra’s base. It was strange, he thought bitterly. Everyone was blaming him for being the Winter Soldier, but no one was able to understand the dangers he was facing every day after that. He hadn’t had a choice on the matter and when he did, he made the right one. He knew why, though – it was awkward and quite uncomfortable not to blame him for the bad things happened before. No one knew that he was still fighting the same battle, so many years after the first fight he had. He didn’t have a gun this time, because he wasn’t fighting to kill; he was fighting to survive another day. A soldier; that was all he knew how to be. And soldiers, from his experience, were unbroken, strong and a willing tribute to sacrifice. He had learnt to be in line, to do whatever he was told without questioning. It was all a façade; he didn’t know how to be someone else, he thought in terror. What if it was the only thing, he was even good at? Being a monster… She, on the other hand, had no idea how not to be broken. She acknowledged the darkness inside her, a lot easier than him, or at least so he thought. Maybe it was all those traumatic scenarios she had walked through that made her colder. He had no consciousness when he did what he was told to, she was wide awake, with no choice but to kill. It was just like what she had told him. When he wanted to gain grasp of himself, even the broken pieces of that man, he could reach deep down and find the scraps. She didn’t have any scraps. She was created according to their image. And he could see that she was still struggling with the person she was – he knew that pain, not to know which parts were you and which were them. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he got her. He understood her past better than most. He did trust her but he was also not fully convinced that she wouldn’t blow them off for a better deal. After all she had said it herself – people like her didn’t ask questions when it came to money. No, that was too little of him to think about her in that way. She had done nothing that low to deserve him calling her a hypocrite. He guessed that if he was in a somewhat similar position, wanting to find out his parents and to secure a roof over his head, he wouldn’t have any questions either. He was lucky, he thought. He was lucky to have people in his life that actually cared about him, even if they claimed to hate him. He wasn’t alone, he realized a little too late – but she had been for a long time. He had zooned out of reality, trying to understand his PTSD and how to deal with it, that he barely made out a recurring noise from across the hall… where her room was. He didn’t think about it twice, as he made his way towards her – he wasn’t sure of the noise, it sounded as if something was being shuttered. He opened the door, albeit hesitant, only to find her standing in front of the mirror, fists covered in blood, glasses everywhere, eyes tainted red and face… as cold as ice. He wasn’t the only one suffering from PTSD. He wasn’t sure what to do – he had never been in that position before; he had only taken care of his messes and now someone who he barely knew was in danger. Not from someone else, no – that he knew how to handle; but from her own mind. He approached her slowly, not wanting to scare her more, her head turned to him, eyes softening and lips quivering. She hadn’t yet grasped what she had done. She hadn’t been in control the whole time, he suddenly realized. Her demons were much stronger than she had let on. She turned her eyes to her hands, worried about the pain she felt originating from there, only to swallow hard. She had done this; she had broken the mirror; she had hurt herself and she had not been able to stop her nightmares from gaining a grasp on her. She kneeled down to the floor to clean up the mess but Bucky’s hands found her and refused to let her do anything. She couldn’t do anything but let him guide her in another room, through the long hall, to another bathroom. Her mind was registering very few things; the cold metal, the pain from her hands, eyes glancing her way. He was terrified to the point he couldn’t think straight. And so, he slowly sat her down to the rim of the bathtub, as he wetted a soft cloth and cleaned her hands. She didn’t say anything, fully aware of the situation she was in and all the explanations she would have to give. He didn’t ask her anything, just cleaned the blood off of her. He wasn’t thinking, just acting on instinct. That was the moment he realized how fragile the girl in front of him really was. She had almost bested him in a fight but she was taking herself out, little by little. What the hell had happened in her past to make her so breakable but fierce at the same time? She stopped him, almost too gently, holding his hand to a stop. She was slightly shaking but she would get over it. The cuts were nothing major, and the bruises would go away in two or three days. She looked at him, truly looked at him, with no mask on, no wall to hide behind. She had gone past the point of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She slowly walked up to the sink and rinsed her hands with lukewarm water, while he was not letting her off of his sight. She cleaned everything, wiped her hands dry with a few paper towels because she didn’t want to stain the white towels and threw them in the bin. She wanted to ask him if he had any soothing cream but she just nibbled her lip. He got her and it freaked him out – how effortlessly he was in tune with her. He reached at the top shelf of the small cupboard, next to the door and found exactly what they were looking for. He didn’t hand it to her, rather… he wanted to apply it himself? He wasn’t making any sense out of his thoughts… And then the sad truth hit him like a bus – he could only use one hand to help her. She saw the momentarily pained expression. They were such messes, crying over their pasts not wanting to move on, not really. Or maybe they couldn’t move at all; frozen into places people put them. She took in a rather big breath and extended her hands. He thought she wanted the cream but she made no such move.

“Oh” he let out loud, without realization. She wanted him to help her. And he did, without second guessing. While he was applying the cream, she felt as if she owed him an explanation – and she probably did. “I didn’t want to punch the mirror. I just… nightmares… I’m sorry for… this” she quietly told him. Oh, and he knew, he knew nightmares alright. He was nodding his head in a negative way, until he locked his eyes with hers. She hadn’t seen eyes that clear ever before. She hadn’t seen eyes so impossibly silver before. “Don’t. ‘M not – this isn’t a problem. Just… don’t hurt yourself on purpose again” he found himself saying and he had no idea where that had come from. And he didn’t want to take it back, either. She didn’t dare to look away and that was how they stayed another fives minutes… far more than necessary but so much less than what they wanted. “Thank you” she whispered after a while. He couldn’t smile at her, he was shocked by a lot of things – the fact she was just like him, that he actually wanted to help her, that he truly didn’t want her to hurt herself, that he felt almost like a schoolboy holding the girl… in a way. He couldn’t never, in all of the years that followed, understand that moment. “If you…need to talk, or not, I…” he didn’t finish the sentence but they both knew what he meant. He hadn’t quite realized what he had done. She wasn’t sure he was even saying those things. He hadn’t left her hands and she wasn’t sure why but she didn’t mind the coldness from the vibranium. A side smile reached her lips, a bit sad but no one was accusing her. “I’m here too” she vocalized his thoughts and sealed their unofficial deal with a prolonged eye contact. That was easy – setting her soul on fire. Pain had been such a consistent, unforgettable thing in their lives – they had learnt how to find shelter in harm. He knew that it was almost impossible to not go there and that was why he was trying every day to unlearn what pain had taught him. She let go and with a nod that said more than their words could have ever, she cleaned up the last of the blood from the sink. He would have stopped her but he was in a trance. “Um, James, not to be ungrateful, but I’m hungry and there is nothing inside the house that’s edible” she commented after a minute, leaving him startled. How was it so easy for her to stop thinking about one thing and go on with her life as if nothing had happened… between them… - never mind, he thought. What she had stated, was more than true and he was starving himself. He ran his fingers through his hair… it felt different. Shorter hair and less excuses to hide and procrastinate. He gave it a quick thought and maybe his decision wasn’t the most bulletproofed one, but he wasn’t exactly thinking at that moment… he was rather preoccupied gawking at her. He was about to suggest that they went to town but thank whatever deity was up there, if any, Sam had returned, calling their names, and he was more than relieved – he wasn’t sure why would he say something like that to her. She gave him one last look and went to her bedroom, to change into something without blood stains. He was left startled… what had happened in those moments? She took three deep breaths to calm her nerves – it wasn’t the rush from cutting herself, no. It was his touch and his eyes that left her wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Sometimes she was hit by the overwhelming urge to light a match and set everything on fire. As the smoke escaped her lips and her fingers shook with the badly lit cigarette between her two fingers, she imagined what it would be like to watch as everything she claimed to love burnt to ashes. This city was too quiet, for her liking, for her mind; only the tree branches were making noise and a subtle mention of the sea. This city felt judgmental towards her – it didn’t feel like home but then again… she never had one, how would she know what it was supposed to feel like? Inside her bubble of self-destruction, she had even imagined herself amidst the flames. Hot, fiery lava just erupting out of her fragile bones leaving debris in every corner she would turn. As the embers crackled in the air, she screamed as loud as her decaying lungs. But no, it wasn’t that easy. She was just a spectator, watching as everything she had ever known and could never get herself to love, burnt to a tiny pile of ash. She hadn’t been able to clean up the mess she had made yet – she had just managed to put on a long-sleeved shirt and toss the stained one to the bathtub for later. She wasn’t exactly dealing with her nightmare because… well, it wasn’t just a nightmare. She could ask Sam for help, it was practically his job but then again, she didn’t want him to know. She could ask Bucky too but she didn’t want to go there that fast, not again. Something between them had shifted and it just felt weird and awkward and … no. She covered her hands with the sleeves, only her fingertips showing. That had to suffice because she had no other plan. Her empty stomach was protesting and she gave in. Walking downstairs, she found Sam and Bucky talking about … well, not her, which surprised her. Had he really kept something that big a secret from his partner in crime? Guessing from Sam’s look, or rather the lack of, she thought that maybe he had. Sam’s eyes never traveled to her hands and that either meant that Bucky was keeping her secret or that Sam was too good of a person. Either way, she felt a wave of relief washing over her. “I promised you a shopping spree. Give me ten minutes and we’ll be on our way” he pointed at her with a comical look on his face. She wasn’t sure if two fugitives and a girl would go unnoticed by the entire town but swallowed her protests; she really wanted to get away from that place, even if it meant going to the town. Bucky was surprised by her attitude and composure. “Finally. I am starving” he commented but Sam looked at him funny, raising an eyebrow. “Who told you, you’re coming?” he asked seriously but she saw the hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. Bucky’s mouth fell to the floor and Sam burst into laughing, shaking his head while going to his bedroom. She was lightly chuckling and his head snapped towards her, so fast she was actually worried about his neck. He recollected his thoughts and appeared stoic again. She hated that everyone around her would act all calm and cold – she needed genuine feelings and happiness, foolishness and lighthearted jokes. The silence was brooding again, and he decided to go and wait on the living room. Great. One step forward, two steps backwards… wasn’t that always the way tango was danced? She found herself trying to decode the house; it was big and gave off this old kind of vibe… she had no idea that the Wilsons could afford a place like that… but then again, there were a lot of damages that needed fixing and she knew, they would probably be there after five years. She didn’t know many things about Sam’s family… come to think of it, she knew almost nothing about both of them. Her favorite place so far, would have to be the kitchen. It was spacious but not vast, with delicate decorations and what would probably be a soft yellowish color, back in the day. Now it seemed gray. Her feet were carrying her towards him and once she realized it, she forced them to stop. Nope, she wasn’t going anywhere near him; he had made his intentions clear. He wanted to be alone, or at least not in the same room as her. And that hurt her in a way she wasn’t used to being hurt. “Okay, let’s go” Sam’s voice broke her spiraling. She wearing a pair of jeans, a gray shirt and a black jacket and thought that she would have looked ridiculous in any other scenario. But… they were technically still fugitives under the Sokovian Accords and she was… well…

Tags: @imlivingliferightnow @tonystankschild @badasseddy

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter solider imagine #winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier #sam wilson imagine #avengers imagine #the avengers #the falcon and the winter soldier imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier

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carry-on-my-wayward-imagines · 5 years

Text

A Normal Day

Originally based on: “Imagine Dean breaking up with you for your safety but pretending it’s because he doesn’t love you anymore”

A/N: I’m trying to get back in the mood for writing one-shots so I decided to do this for therapeutic reasons, for lack of a better word. I’m not taking the blame though, this was completely inspired by doing a re-reading of reactions to “Untitled” and @thefreshprinceofmirkwood

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 2,104

Warnings: any warnings outta “Untitled” are fair game in here. Some angst, some fluff. You know me ;)

Untitled (Part I), Part Two (Part II), 2,629,745 (Part III) Conclusion (Final Part)

----

“Kids aren’t that bad, Dean,” you chuckled. “You just got to know how to calm them down. Once you’ve figured out how to do that, it’s pretty nice to be around them.”

If Dean couldn’t see you blush as you kept your head pressed against his chest, he sure felt it. After four years of marriage, you were still shy to his compliments, and he loved it. He loved telling you how amazing you were, how brave and different and fearless you kept on being even after you left the hunting life. But he mostly loved the shy smiles that came with his compliments, so soft and genuine that he could swear his heart would stop for a moment. It was reassurance that he was keeping his promises. Dean sometimes felt as though he had failed so many people, even you, but that would never happen again. Especially after he vowed to do his best to keep you happy all those years ago.

“I’ll take your word for that, then,” he finally replied to your comment, the corners of his lips gently tugged up.

Even if you weren’t a substitute teacher, Dean had no doubts you would be great with any children you’d have together. It was a topic you didn’t bring about too much, so he didn’t either, but he was finally feeling ready. Your fifth anniversary would be in six months, maybe enough time to start trying and get some happy news around the date. His smile widened as he thought about starting the talk today. Maybe he’d take you out to a nice dinner.

“Are you still going out with Charlie tonight?”

“Yup.” Dean’s smile faltered, but then picked up again. Tomorrow night. There was plenty of time. “Are you sure you don’t want to go see the new Marvel movie with us, though? Sam and Miranda are still on their honeymoon, and I don’t want you all cooped up here by yourself, babe.”

“I can always call Cas,” Dean shrugged, kissing the top of your head. He would need sometime by himself to get some plans ready. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please!”

Dean chuckled at your enthusiasm, seeing you light up. His cooking was the only thing that would ever bring you close to being a morning person, and he took pride at that. He began untangling himself from your embrace with a slow kiss to your lips, missing the other part of his puzzle piece even as he got out of the bed and threw a shirt on. Dean felt your eyes on him, gave you a crooked smile as he turned back to you, and then another kiss.

“I was thinking of banana pancakes,” Dean mumbled against your lips when you finally parted. Your smile gave him the approval he needed.

“Well, you’re the chef,” you said. Dean chuckled as you leaned forward and captured one last kiss from him. “You’re welcome to make whatever you want as long as I don’t do anything.”

“And you’re welcome to walk into the kitchen at any time as long as you’re still in only my shirt.”

He knew he was being cocky, but he couldn’t help throwing you a wink as you shooed him out of the bedroom. It was truly a sight that would never get old.

----

To anyone else, you might have seem excited about the movie, but Dean knew otherwise. He didn’t want to pry as he watched you nervously doing your makeup, or when you couldn’t stop tapping your foot against the floor as you ate pie together. You were going to be picking Charlie up, although you hadn’t seen her in months. Maybe it was that.

“Don’t forget your wallet,” Dean gave you a small grin, watching you almost head out of the door and straight past where it laid on the table. His smile was quickly replaced with a frown though, and he approached you cautiously. “You seem a little off today, sweetheart. Are you sure you can drive?”

You sighed, looking away from Dean.

“I’m okay to drive, babe,” you said quietly. “I’m just, well… I’m honestly a bit nervous since I haven’t hung out with Charlie in a while. I know it’s stupid, we’re both adults and dorks, but I also don’t want it to be awkward, you know? And Sam usually hangs out with us.”

“You’re going to be alright, darlin’,” Dean reassured you, happy that there wasn’t anything more drastic worrying you. “If you really want to, I could come with you.”

“Oh no, mister, that offer was in the morning when there were still tickets. You’d be crazy to get some now,” you half-joked, more confident.

“Alright, get going then! I held you up enough.”

Dean leaned in to give you the usual departing kiss, but was surprised when you pulled him in more passionately than normal. Perhaps he should give you motivational speeches more often. He could still feel the taste of the cherries on your tongue, so sweet and fresh that he was sure you took out another slice after brushing your teeth. His mind was filled with only the smoothness of your lips and the comfort of your hands around his neck. And the only thing to convince him that the kiss was fleeting instead of several days long was that the darkened sky outside had remained the same when you stepped back.

He had never seen you looking more happy.

“You know,” you said, closing off the space between you once more, but this time with a hug. “I think I made the right decision all those years ago. You’re the best husband ever. I love you, Dean.”

“I love you more, my cheesy warrior,” Dean smiled. “Now, drive safe and say hi to Charlie for me.”

Your car was soon a quiet rumble in the distance, growing ever so tiny as you drove away. Dean watched until you had disappeared, his heart feeling full, before he went into the house again and locked the door behind him. He had a couple calls to make, perhaps maybe try and make a special reservation at one of your favorite restaurants. He had to plan fast before businesses closed out for the night.

And soon, the long hand of the clock hung straight down, pointing at the plain six while the shorter one signaled the two identical pairs of ones. With a sigh, Dean grabbed the remote of the TV and turned the monitor off, the black screen faintly reflecting the movement of his body as he stood up. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he did have to work at the mechanic shop the next day, so he drained the leftover beer he hadn’t finished in the sink and turned off the living room’s lights.

After a quick check of the devil traps at the entrances of the house, he headed toward your shared bedroom. A yawn stretched Dean’s lips apart as he closed the door of the room, flicking on the lights with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. He slipped off the worn pair of jeans and threw them in one corner, making a mental note to remember that it was his turn to wash this week.

He was deciding between saving time and just throwing everything that needed to go to the dry cleaner’s in a bag right now, or choosing to do that when you finally got home from the midnight premier, when he finally saw it. Sitting on top of his pillow was a rectangle envelope, and, judging by the faded yellow color and the bent corners, Dean guessed it must have been at least a few years old.

Curiosity pulled him towards it, the corners of his lips curving up as he read the words written on the front of the envelope: “To my dearest Orion.”

Dean took the old item into his hands and sat on the edge of the bed, observing your handwriting for a moment and chuckling to himself as he noticed that it hadn’t changed a lot despite the passing of time. Then, sure that what was inside wouldn’t fail to amuse him, Dean opened the letter.

It surprised him to see that the date on the corner read from four and a half years ago, but he kept on reading.

Dear Dean,

Well, I guess we finally did it! Okay, maybe not from my point of view, but from yours. I also think I should explain what I’m talking about, since this must be really weird for you. Anyways, if I didn’t freak out (or you) then we’re probably married by now. I don’t know if you noticed it, but tonight (or at least for me) is the day before we’re getting (or hopefully got) married. It would be a lie if I said that I’m not scared as hell of messing up tomorrow, but really none of this is what I wanted to talk about.

Dean’s smile started to fade as he continued reading. It wasn’t long before his hands were shaking, tears welling up in his eyes as he read, completely blurring out the words. This was wrong. This had to be wrong. It wasn’t just his vision that felt blurry, but everything else too. His head was spinning, the ticking of the clock was too loud, and his heart hammered against his chest with a pain he hadn’t felt before. It was constricting him, stealing every last bit of oxygen he had.

I’m sorry that I can’t be with you anymore.

He didn’t finish reading the letter.

“Y/N, what have you done?” Dean whispered to himself as he fumbled to find his phone, hands still shaking. This couldn’t be happening. He quickly began to call, feeling like his heart was stabbed with every ring. “Answer, god-fucking-dammit!”

But you didn’t pick up.

Dean quickly threw his pair of jeans on again, slipping into an untied pair of boots and running down the hallway with the phone still pressed against his ear. His could feel the heat growing on his neck as desperation crawled like a swarm of insects up his back in into his chest. You couldn’t be gone.

“Cas! Castiel!” Dean screamed into the empty house letting the phone fall to his side as his knees gave out. No one came. He was alone. “Please! I need you! Y/N is in trouble!”

Moments passed with Dean still on the floor, shoulders sagged. The shock was too much. He had to do something, but what could he do? Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell him sooner?

Dean heard his heart pulsing in his ears as he grabbed the phone once again, barely feeling the sobs racking through his body as he continued dialing your number. The tenth missed call didn’t make a difference. He couldn’t stop himself. He had to hear your voice say this was all an elaborate prank, that you would be home soon, safely tucked into his arms. That your hands would rub his back when he woke up in the middle of the night, dreaming about the terrors that weren’t supposed to be in his life anymore. He would never let go of you after this again.

He never imagined that morning that this was how he would end the day, what was supposed to be a perfectly normal day.

And in the days that followed, when he finally got a hold of Castiel, and when Sam cut his honeymoon short for a flight and frantic drive down to your home, Dean wanted to imagine that that wasn’t how the day ended. That you would come back despite your letter, running through the door to tell him about your movie night with Charlie. Charlie, who was five states away.

Your car, which was 60 miles away from your house.

Your phone, which was in the backseat.

Your ring–sitting undisturbed on the hood of your car.

It was the ring that broke him. Your promise to always keep it on was broken, just like the promises of protecting you, his wife, had been completely cut through. No matter what your letter said, he would never bury you in the back of his head, even if the weight of the pain dragged around his ankles like metal chains. Even if he had to pretend to carry on eventually, put up a facade to everyone else that met him, and imagine that the day would be a normal day like that day was supposed to be. Even then, his heart would never forget.

He would always be your hunter.

———

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@itsbubbaog @xxmy-day-dreamxx @lamme0456 @deannotmoose @15wiishes

Dean Winchester

@akshi8278 @Justanotherdogperson @justanothersepticeyefan

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81scorp · 4 years

Text

My thoughts on Tangled

(Originally posted as an editorial on Deviantart Nov 17, 2015.)

In my "More thoughts on Frozen" editorial I wrote: "I like Frozen. Though not as much as I like Tangled."So let`s talk about Tangled.

And at last I see the SPOILERS

I didn`t have high expectations about this movie. Based on what I saw from the trailer it seemed to be not much more than a silly romp with lots of slapstick, kinda like The Emperor`s new groove. I wasn`t really interested in watching it until I saw a trailer with the scene where Flynn and Rapunzel sits in a boat and release lanterns into the sky. I thought to myself: "I think I`ll give it a watch."

Then there`s the name. It was originally gonna be called Rapunzel, but the big suits at Disney changed it. It has been theorized that they did it because The Princess and the Frog, while not unsuccessful at the box office, was not as successful as they had hoped, and they were afraid that boys wouldn`t see a movie with the word "Princess" or anything feminine in the title. I think it was a very insecure move from Disney, it`s like changing "The Little Mermaid" to "Beached". If they had kept the name "Rapunzel" and marketed it the way they did, with the trailers focusing on The Emperor`s new groove-like slapstick while playing Pink`s "Trouble", I and (I`d like to think that others, as well) would still have gone to see it. You might want to argue and say that the name change was justified because they changed the story from the original fairytale. They changed the story of The Little Mermaid and The Hunchback of Notredam too but still kept the name of the original.But what`s in a name? Surely, an animated Disney movie about a girl with insanely long hair and the thief that act as her guide by any other name would still be as sweet. Insecure name changing aside, the rest of the movie could still be good.

My Brother and I went to see it in the cinema...IN 3D!!!

A few minutes into the movie we got something I wasn`t prepared for: A musical number... in an animated Disney movie. At first my reaction was "What?" But a part of me said "Yeah, and? What`s so odd about a musical number in an animated Disney movie? You walked into The Princess and the Frog fully aware that there was gonna be singing and liked it. You`re just a little surprised because you never saw any clips or trailers that indicated that it was gonna be a musical. Now shut up and enjoy this Disney musical damnit!"

But putting that aside, "When will my life begin" is not a great song to open with. It is VERY upbeat, modern and pop-ish, which, considering the 18th century world it takes place in, makes it feel very anachronistic.I liked it a little more after repeated viewings though, so it`s a bit of an aquired taste.A part of it that I did like (without repeated viewings) was the last part that begins with "Tomorrow night the lights will appear, just like they do on my birthday each year". This part of the song felt like Rapunzel`s more vulnerable side, like her true face under the mask of cheerfulness that we heard in the first parts. The chores and hobbies that she sings about (like puzzles and darts and baking) are what she does to kill time and the boredom of isolation. In hindsight, the title alone: "When will my life begin" pretty much verifies that.It`s not a bad song by itself, just maybe not the best song to open this movie with.You might wonder "Isn`t `Healing incantation` technically the first song of the movie and why did it take you till `When will my life begin`to realize it was a musical?"

Well, "Healing incantation" was the first song, yes. But unlike "When will my life begin" it`s diegetic, they could still sing it even if this movie wasn`t a musical. Diegetic music comes from a person or object in the scene (like a radio or musical performer), while non-diegetic music is external to the narrative. In Rocky II when Rocky runs down the streets of Philadelphia and the song "Gonna fly now" is playing, we can hear the music but Rocky can`t, it`s non-diegetic.

"Mother knows best" sounded better though, it felt more fitted for a musical. I like that she both figuratively and literally tries to keep Rapunzel in the dark in the musical number. James Berardinelli from ReelViews commented on his website that "the songs were neither catchy nor memorable". I don`t completely agree with him. Sure, a few hours after I left the cinema I didn´t remember most of the songs, but I did remember the chorus to "Mother knows best". Many like to compare Mother Gothel to Cher and I can`t say that I don`t see why. But to me she reminds me more of Edina from Absolutely Fabulous. Both call their daughter "darling", are selfish and one of the worst days in Edina`s life... was the day she turned 30! Another popular comparison is the one between her and Claude Frollo from the Disney version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Both keep a ward locked up in a tall building and tell them that the world is a horrible place. In a way Claude Frollo is the worse villain because he has more authority, he has power over the guards and by that, some level of control over the city. While similar, there are some small differences in their, for lack of a better word, "parenting skills". Frollo`s are more about being stern and controlling Quasimodo with a respect based on fear, while Mother Gothel is more about emotional manipulation and sending mixed messages. She gives Rapunzel subtle insults one minute only to add a little "just kidding, you know I love you" the next. On a large scale Frollo is the worst, while on a smaller, personal level Mother Gothel is the worst. There is a little bit of tenderness in her cruelty. One thing that bugs me is the glorification and romanticism of the age of 16. Appearently that`s the best age to be, that`s when everything great and magical happens. I thought to myself when watching Tangled: "Please don`t make her 16. Make her some other age or just don`t mention it." Rapunzel`s age was 17 and the next day she was gonna turn 18. I thought "Thank you Disney! Thank you for avoiding this clichè and overrated age". In a way it turns it into a metaphor for growing up, becoming independent and leaving the nest. Yes, she is technically still underaged at first, but it is she that is in charge and Flynn doesn`t try anything romantic on her until after she turns 18. But most important of all: she`s not 16.

I liked the reprise of "When will my life begin" better than the first version because, like "Mother knows best" the music and instruments in it felt more fitting for a musical. That moment before she puts her foot on her grass you could see in her eyes that it may have been a small step for man, but it was a giant leap for Rapunzel.

Which was then followed by the emotional rollercoaster known as "The bi-polar scene". In her book "Making a good script great" Linda Seger wrote that conflict is the basis of drama, and this movie has a lot of conflict without feeling overcrowded. There`s Flynn VS the guards of Corona and Flynn VS the Stabbington brothers, both over which one gets the crown. There`s Rapunzel VS Mother Gothel, Rapunzel wants to leave her tower to see the rest of the world, or at least the floating lanterns, while Gothel wants to keep her in the tower.There`s also conflict that adds comedy. There`s Flynn VS Maximus, which is an extension of Flynn VS the guards, but funnier. Flynn VS Rapunzel, Rapunzel needs Flynn as her bodyguard/guide through the dangerous outside world, so she hides his satchel and uses it as leverage. Flynn just wants the crown so he can sell it and get stinking rich, so he tries to manipulate and scare Rapunzel into giving up her journey to see the lanterns. Then there`s Rapunzel VS herself. While happy that she is seeing the world she also feels guilty over disobeying her mother, which leads to the inner conflict seen in the previously mentioned "bi-polar scene".

Maximus the horse, who I mentioned earlier is a great character and a great source of comedy. He`s like Officer Zenigata from Lupin III. Pascal adds a little comedy too but doesn`t contribute as much to the story as Maximus. My guess is that he was created for the same reason that Robin was created for Batman. The creators thought that it would be better if Batman had someone to talk and explain things to so he wouldn`t seem like a complete nutjob that talks to himself. I don`t have much to say about "I`ve got a dream", it`s a fun, likeable song one would usually expect the comical side-characters to sing. Is it just me or doesn`t the chorus borrow a little from "She`ll be coming round the mountain"?

"She'll be coming round the mountain, she'll be coming round the mountain, she'll be coming round the mountain when she comes"

"Though I do like breaking femurs, you can count me with the dreamers. Like everybody else, I've got a dream."

(Sure, the melody isn`t identical but the structure is somewhat similar.)

Flynn refusing to sing (at first) is not exactly new for a Disney musical, it had already been done in Enchanted. However this was (to my knowledge) the first time it was done in the Disney animated canon and it was done much funnier.

The scene where Rapunzel and Flynn...

Flynn: Eugene.

What?

Flynn: Eugene Fitzherbert.

OK. where Rapunzel and...Eugene

are trapped in a cave that`s filling up with water is similar to the trash-compactor scene in Star wars: It`s the dark moment, the part of the movie where it seems like there is no way out and all hope is lost. I like this scene, not just because of the suspense but also because it is where they open up to and start getting to know each other. But because this not just a big-budget movie but a Disney movie, and no director wants to depress the audience (unless you`re Lars von Trier), we know that they`re gonna make it, we just don`t know how. In the campfire scene we get more time for character development. We already know Rapunzel`s backstory but this is the first time that Fly-... Eugene gets to hear it. We (and Rapunzel) also find out that Eugene was an orphan who took his name from a fictional character who was everything he wanted to be. Rapunzel`s inner conflict shows up here too, but this time with a downplayed, more serious tone and not comically exaggerated.

Eugene: And you`re still gonna go back?

Rapunzel: No! Yes. (covers her face) It`s complicated. I`m probably alone in this but to me Eugene`s name change feels like a reflection of the movie`s name change. Eugene changed his name to Flynn Rider because he thought it would sound cooler, like how the big suits at Disney changed the movie`s name from Rapunzel because they thought it would sound cooler.

Rapunzel: For the record, I like Eugene Fitzherbert much better than Flynn Rider. Not much to say about the reprise of Mother knows best except that we get to see the more Frollo-ish side of Gothel. Since the tenderness doesn`t work she now tries to make Rapunzel respect her through fear. I love the Kingdom dance scene. It`s like that scene from The Little Mermaid when Ariel visits the town with Eric and for the first time gets to experience the world of humans. It`s a great example of visual storytelling, no dialogue is used or needed. Just like Ariel, Rapunzel gets to geek out and and explore this new world, try new things, new kinds of food and immerse herself in new books. I love the music in this scene. It has a nice medieval-ish feel to it, the kind of music you`d expect to hear in this world and time. Another interesting touch is that it starts out joyful but there`s a small ominous tone that grows bigger and louder as the music plays, as if forshadowing an impening doom.

This is followed by another really good scene: Rapunzel`s parents, another great example of visual storytelling where no dialogue is needed, the animation says it all.

Movie critic and comedian Doug Walker said in his review of this movie that the voice acting on Rapunzel and Eugene could have been better, not that the actors did a poor job, he was just always aware that there was a person behind a microphone. Personally I had no problem with Rapunzel`s and Eugene`s voice. Mandy Moore did a great job voicing Aerith in the first Kingdom Hearts game and I didn`t even know (at the time) it was her. I was aware that it was her before watching the movie, but while watching it I had no problem separating the voice from the celebrity and enjoying the movie. I didn`t even know who voiced Eugene, I looked it up and found that it was Zachary Levi, Chuck Bartowski from Chuck. He did his own singing too, I didn`t know he could sing. Is there anything that intersect can`t do?

I mention Doug Walker because what he felt about the original voice actors is what I felt about about the actors in the swedish-dubbed version. Måns Zelmerlöw (Eugene Fitzherbert) and Molly Sandèn (Rapunzel) were not bad, I just didn`t feel as invested with them as I was with the original version. Moore and Levi both have acting experience and their voices had a certain maturity. Sandèn and Zelmerlöw are both younger, singers and hasn`t had as much acting experience as Moore and Levi. (Sandèn`s experience in dubbing is, so far, limited to two Highschool Musical movies where she dubbed the songs.) The parts where they sing sound great though. Now, with that out of the way...I like "I see the light", don`t have much to say about it though, but more to say about the scene where it is sung. It is beautifully animated and directed. Eugene having prepared the two lanterns, one for each of them, shows that he is willing to go that little extra length for someone else, something the old Eugene (or Flynn) would not have done so easily, if at all. Another nice little detail in this scene is that the lantern that is about to sink into the water that Rapunzel pushes back up into the sky is her parents lantern.

How Maximus managed to get help from the Snugly Duckling thugs is not hard to imagine. Most likely scenario: He ran to the pub with one of Eugene`s wanted posters in his mouth and waved it in front of their faces.

Thug: What is it horse? Is the guy with the big freaky nose and his longhaired girlfriend in danger?

Maximus would nod and the thugs would huddle and start planning Eugene`s escape.

Is it a stretch that Rapunzel can remember things from when she was just a few days old? Maybe convenient but not unbelievable, Rapunzel was born under special circumstances after all. If she has healing hair why can`t she also have a super-memory and (from what I`ve read on the Disney wikia) super-strength? Seriously, she carries around a large amount of hair that no ordinary human would be able to carry as easily as she does. "But how was Gothel able to overpower her?"

one might wonder. I have a few theories.

A: Maybe she isn`t superstrong, maybe her hair is just very, very light.

B: She has some form of psychosomatic mental block that prevents her from overpowering Gothel.

C: Gothel, who managed to beat both the of Stabbington brothers, is really really good at fighting dirty. Wouldn`t surprise me if she used Rapunzel`s long hair to her advantage. Near the end of the movie Eugene dies but is brought back to life by a tear from Rapunzel. Typical Disney death, yes, but it makes sense, more sense than the original fairytale. In the original fairytale the prince got pushed out of the tower by Dame Gothel and landed in thorns below that damaged his eyes and blinded him. He later met Rapunzel who`s tears restored his sight. Unlike the movie it was never (to my knowledge at least) established before that moment that she had any form of healing powers, it just happened because of fairytale logic.So, does Rapunzel have healing tears now or was all her healing powers used up in that one tear? Don`t know, guess we`ll have to wait and see. I`m fine either way.The final scene where the kingdom celebrates Rapunzel`s return is... not bad or unnecessary, it`s just not as good as the previous scene where Rapunzel is reunited with her parents. It`s as if the filmmakers were afraid that their happy ending wasn`t happy enough. It`s the part where all the Snugly Duckling thugs had their dreams come true, for me it would have been enough to see them just partake in the festivities since we only heard them talk (or rather, sing) about their dreams but we never saw them struggle for them. Then again, not seeing them reach their goals that they sang about would feel like an unused chekov`s gun. I think the part with the Snugly Duckling thugs would have worked better without Eugene`s narration confirming that they all got exactly what they wanted, but I`m probably nitpicking here. Even if it was a typical Disney "Look! Everybody gets a happy ending!"-ending it was short and wasn`t bad.

And who doesn`t like a drunken, flirting dwarf in a diaper?

Sure, it has a few flaws but it`s one of my favourite movies.

That`s all I have for now but I`m not done yet. More thoughts on Tangled coming later. I thought that all of my thoughts on Tangled might be a little much to read if put into one editorial, so I decided to divide it into two.

#tangled #editorial #81scorp

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insomniac-dot-ink · 5 years

Text

Saint’s Bones

Genre: adventure-fantasy, original wlw

Words: 6K

Summary: A young woman sets out on a journey when her brother brings home a holy relic from war. He says that the saint’s bone will bring wealth to the village and bless the family.

Sabine isn’t so sure, instead, she sets out to return to the saint’s remains to her resting place and stop any specter’s from haunting them. She encounters a shield maiden bent on helping her and more challenges than she expected

saint’s and pagans collide in the shifting times between ghosts and prayers

PART I ~ PART II ~ PART III

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PART I

It was 3 in the afternoon, the day was marked by drowsy spring heat and feet sloshing through puddles and mud to get to market in the early morning. Sabine was sitting by her half-finished mending and tuning out her mother’s gossip with the village grannies.

They were planning a roast for dinner, meat had been cheap since the roosters came to proper weight. Sabine’s boots were drying by the door and the sound of running children filled the streets outside, calling voices and shouts erupted but Sabine thought nothing of it.

A knock came at the door, it was a soft thing followed by a rough shouldering of the wood. Light flooded into the dim first story as the door creaked and Sabine perked up.

A solid figure stood in the entrance way with the sun to his back, casting a long shadow as he stooped to come in, he was broad and well-built, almost immediately filling the whole space. Sabine flew to her feet along with her mother and her two friends.

She rushed forward, it felt like flying, a young man stood in front of her with the ghost of a beard and close-cropped brown hair. His cheeks were still round with youth, but his posture was deceivingly straight, a thing of cast iron and steel. His eyes were slightly sunken and he had somehow managed to get more stocky even after months on the march.

His eyes swept the room and a haggered smile stretches across his face, a tangible exhale left his body and Sabine threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Luca.” Her voice spilled out her throat, sloppy and watery.

Her mom followed in after and they stood in the door for a long silent moment.

Her brother returned home.

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

For as long as Sabine could remember it had been her brother, her mom, her dad, her sister and her. Her sister Gianna had been the first change, as the eldest she was married quickly to a tanner’s son who was luckily around the same age.

The couple moved in with the family after their father dained to take Gianna’s husband on as an apprentice potter- a much better occupation than tanner. The house soon filled again with their two children and the clatter of young feet.

The second shift of Sabine’s young life was the call to arms of all the young men, her father was excluded thanks to a bum knee but their brother was more than happy to heed the call. It was a good way to move above his station- and maybe gain some glory along the way.

That is when little Angelo joined them as well, barely a babe at the time, their house was now more than full.

The village emptied out to heed the holy cause and retake the city of Jade. Three long years passed, Sabine was too busy to court and too plain to attract suitors, there were not enough men for it anyway.

She was 25 by the time her brother arrived home and Sabine could not have been happier, her life order had come back together again: father, mother, sister, brother, and her.

She hadn’t expected to sit and watch her brother’s shifty eyes as they fed him dinner that night. Luca had kissed his mother on both cheeks, greeted the village woman, and joked about Sabine growing almost as broad as him. He then excused himself, asking to be shown to his old room.

It was now shared with the twins, but Luca was asleep before the kids could bother him or Sabine could fetch him any water.

The women sat in the kitchen and glance at each other as he slept, Anna spoke first, “I knew the men were coming back.” She crowed, “felt in my bones.” “The king sent them back to help with harvest this year,” her mother grinned, ever the practical one.

“You are lucky Sara,” the oldest of them, grandma Sofia spoke up, “your son has returned to you in one piece.” Her mother nodded, “Thank the grace of god.” They all did a cross in the air and Sabine followed along.

“Do you think they’ll be called back again?” She wondered out loud.

The women shrugged and got back to their mending and dinner preparations.

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

Luca didn’t make it to dinner that night, but they prepared an extra place setting nonetheless and buzzed around the table.

“Is he really back?” Angelo bounced in place, “Did he bring his sword?” “I’m sure they return the sword,” her father said kindly, but he also looked like an excited kid, a sparkle in his aging blue eyes.

Sabine chewed carefully and wiped at little Laura’s face as they ate.

“Let us give grace,” her sister Gianna gave a pale smile, she was most the devout of the family, especially as her body waned to a slip of a shadow. She sat with her hair limp and a shawl draped across her thin shoulders. “To give thanks for the safe return of our brother.” They held hands, bowed their heads, and Sabine gave a quiet salient prayer: you heard me. Her lips moved as no sound came out, we are not forgotten, I will remember this.

They ate in a racus of questions and bread-passing, trying not to let the dog get underfoot for scraps for at least five minutes. Sabine wrapped some extra bread in her skirts for later and smiles out.

-----------

It wasn’t until late in the night when the embers of the hearth had grown low and charred that footsteps came at the stairs. Sabine was still finishing the mending of Angelo’s jacket, her mind being elsewhere all day.

Steps clunked on wooden stairs and Sabine recognized them instantly, her brother came down and smiled wearily. “Anything left?” She swept to her feet and gestured him over, “mother left a whole plate out.” She called for her mom to fetch the last plate, she insists they all sit together for a moment.

Luca tore into a coolled bread roll, descreting it with his canines as they looked on. He only looked up once.

“I see no one’s fixed the old hinges on the upstairs door,” he gave a lopsided grin, “how long has it been, mom? Surely you didn’t just leave it all for me to do.” Her mother lifted her chin, “barely enough hands around here to fix the leak in the roof,” she tutted and Luca laughed.

“No, no, I’m so glad nothing has changed,” he laughed again. He turned, “speaking of which, how is my doting younger sister?” Sabine sniffed, “perfectly the same.” She nodded curtly, “this dress is surely from three years ago as well.” Luca was still smiling, but he looked her over from head to foot, “it’s been awhile, let me guess your age now, Sabine.” She raised her eyebrows, “we are 9 months apart, have you forgotten your own age as well?” “Perfectly so,” he gave a willowy chuckle, “now I see, 40, perhaps 55! She does well with a handkerchief.” Sabine tugged at her white handkerchief tied around her hair, as plain her brown dress. “An old man returns to an ancient sister then, we’ll have to support our spritely mother together.” Their mother scoffed, in her younger years she might have boxed them both in the ears for that, but it was a late spring night and her children were reuniting.

“You’ve raised an old maid mother,” Luca turned to their mother, “I thought I’d miss my little sister’s wedding by now.” Their mother squared her jaw and passed him another roll to go with his meat, “not enough hands Luca, not enough hands, you think all the men leave and we have time to spare for preparing a dowry?” She snorts, “You’ve become fanciful!”

He sits up straight and toasts the air, “Always!” He cheers and reaches for his mead glass, it was hard for Sabine not to smile as well. “Well, I’ll look for one yet.” He winks and Sabine wags her finger.

“You first brother,” they both laugh and settle into finishing the night, it would be quiet reunion, too long in the coming.

Sabine was finally polishing off her mending when a series of long wet hacking coughs come from upstairs. Her mind’s eye is filled by the visceral vision of sisters bent body as she was racked by air sickness.

Her brother looked grimly at the ceiling as it took several minutes to pass, Sabine and her mother look away politely from the noise as they always did.

Luca is the only one to speak up, “I suppose some things do change.” He says bitterly to the thin air, “How long?” Her mother busies herself sweeping the spotless hearth, it was nothing but embers at this point. “Your sister has always had a weak constitution.” She mutters, “She’ll recover from this one just as well as the ones before.” Sabine leaned in toward her brother, eyes wide, “Since the winter before.” She says quickly, “her weight has dropped by 3 stones each month since then.” Her mother shoots her a sharp betrayed look, Sabine doesn’t meet it, he should know.

Luca wears his smile thinly, “It’s good I’ve returned then.” Sabine’s face softens, “it would always be good for your return.” He hums and looks at the ceiling once more, “don’t think I came back empty handed from the war,” he says cryptically, “There will be something for Gianna and her old maid sister yet.” Sabine stands up, “you can solve all our problems by starting with the leak in the roof.” They always said she was just as practical as her mother. “Then everything else.” He stands up as well, “I’m glad to be back Sabine.” He kisses her on both cheeks again before she heads to bed, “Me too.” She says quietly and retreats, the household utters silent reaching prayers as Gianna begins to cough again.

Hear me one last time, she tries again on her knees, spare my family this as well.

That was the first night their dog barked at nothing and little Laura swore she saw something growing in the shadows.

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

The pots started to break.

Her father couldn’t explain it, he hadn’t changed his methods after all these years and the kiln seemed to be working perfectly fine. It started small at first, a single clay pot burst during the cooking, a few cracks and chips in the finished ones.

And then entire shelves fell, crashing in a violent carnage of sharp pieces and fine shattered designs. Their wares were very thin for that market day.

Pots cracked, Sabine tugged on her socks only to find them completely soaked through, mead grew sour before it even touched their lips, the dog barked. And barked.

They bent their heads and prayed soberly in church, Gianna visited twice a day after her daughter tripped in the halls and cried for hours. Laura mumbled about how there was nothing there, her shins hit something hard she couldn’t see and her legs tore up.

Sabine’s skin crawled.

She looked for more excuses to flee the house and wander the market streets or escape to the pastures outside of town. She could forage for dyes there that her father could use for paints, not to mention stare at the fluffy white clouds as they gathered and exhale for a quick second.

Luca fixed the leek in the roof and then the hinges on the doors, he floated in and out of his father’s pottery workshop. Their old father always promised to pull him into the business, he had no choice as the oldest son, but Luca had a way around his commands.

It was different now nonetheless, he did not flirt with the village girls- his tomcat days seemingly behind him, he prayed at church instead of exchanging pokes with Sabine as the sermon droned on. He paced the halls in the night and jumped violently whenever the young children brushed against him.

Francesca the old hound barked at him as well.

The days slipped past with cracked pots and the wails of something unseen. The ebbing fingers of spring started to let go and the summer storms blew in, battering the roof and filling the house with an anxious buzz. The kids were trapped inside, running around and getting underfoot. Sabine listened to the thunder boom outside and she pet the ears of Francesca as she whimpered.

“It’s alright girl,” she said quietly, the thunder gave a rolling boom and Sabine kept her eyes glued on the constant stream of rain. It’s oppressive weight choked the streets, dark violin strings connecting earth to the heavens, tied in thin ropes from sky to ground.

The patter on the roof was deafening, “Sabine,” her father called, voice barely audible, “fetch the others, we’ll have an early supper.” Sabine looks over her shoulder and nods, the eyes of the house were quick and darkened, it was another week of breaking pots and odd noises in the night. Sabine quickly stands and calls for her two small cousins and young Angelo, gathering them up so their grandmother could tell them stories.

Gianna was already at the table and her husband was still busy in the pottery, trying to finish up a few more plates despite the dampness thick in the air.

Sabine climbed to the second story, “Luca.” The halls were dark despite the sun not having set yet, dark and filled with the sound of drenching rain outside. “Stew is ready.” She huffed as she heard nothing in reply, “didn’t you say you were over storms like this?” She muttered, remembering how he used to huddle by the hearth during every storm years ago.

She knocked on the door, rapping her knuckles firmly and tapping her foot. “Luca, I promise getting something warm in you will help, come downstairs.” She opens the door thoughtlessly and only pauses as she sees someone huddling under the blankets, face stricken. “Luca?” He was cradling something in his hands and muttering aloud, Sabine recognized the words from church, a glottal gibberish of latin.

She strides toward him, his eyes are wide and unseeing, he clutches something bleached white and perfectly smooth to his chest. “Are you alright?” She asks tentatively and goes to rub his shoulders, “Luca, it’s only a storm, we’re safe here.” Luca snaps back into focus from her barest touch, gaze wild and red hot, he bolts upright and grabs Sabine’s wrist in an iron grip.

He looks confused for a moment, “Sabine?” Sabine doesn’t flinch and her eyes travel down instead, “What is that in your hand?” She makes out the end of a lumpy rod, her stomach turned as she recognized it.

“Nothing,” Luca swung out of bed, “What were you saying?”

Her eyes hollow out as she stares at the white bone, Luca pulls his blankets up and the thing disappears, he gives her a hard look. Sabine rights herself. “Supper,” she says clippedly, “we’re having stew.” Luca just nods and hurries her out of the room, face still pale as lightning bolts. He joked about building the next great arc in all this. Sabine floats out of the room alongside him, but her eyes drag back to his bed.

What are you hiding?

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

Sabine takes two more days to confront him. Three more pots had broken and meal worms had gotten into their grain. Angelo complained of a dream where the shadows came alive and chased him toward the well and down into the dark waters.

Gianna’s lips were tight and eyes hard as she listened to the young boy, “such dreams are normal.” She said faintly and gave a shallow smile, “We’ve all been having dreams I’m sure. It’s just the heavy rains.” Sabine’s swallowed thickly and looked back up at the ceiling, it took her another day to form the right words.

The storms had finally let up by then and she offered to walk with her brother to a nearby farm that gave them extra milk if they smiled well enough. Sabine waited until they it to the edge of town to glance over at her brother and catch his eye.

“Luca,” she started off slowly, “I had something I wanted to… say.” She knew she sounded overly careful, suspicious even, but it was hard to ignore the red of his eyes or shadow of an unkempt beard.

Luca smiled less after these long days, he paced more.

He took a moment to hold her gaze, “I don’t suppose you’d liked to discuss Andrea?” He grinned, “We served together. He’s been asking about you.” Sabine took a deep breath, “I doubt that.” She said curtly. “And I don’t have time.”

“Time? No time like the present! Looks fade little sister,” he clucked, “you might especially be careful.” Sabine rolled her eyes, she had never been considered beautiful, even she knew that and her brother’s teasing didn’t help. “There’s not much to fade.” She said with a finger wag.

She knew she had thick arms and a lumpy form, her jaw was too square and her walk too graceless. Her hair was as coarse as a horses mane and hands thick and hard from years of work.

They said she had a brutish air, Luca used to needle her with the fact, but he seemed to have softened or at least changed his tune. “All the better for sooner then!” He crowed and poked her sides, “I could convince mother to really start looking.” “Luca,” she said sternly, “What were you holding the night of the storm?” Luca visibly deflated, “You always did like to dwell on unpleasant things.” He gave a deep sigh. Sabine stopped in place, forcing Luca to pause, the field around them is quiet and empty but for the rolling green grass. “Was that a bone?” She narrowed her eyes, “What have you done?” Luca put both hands up, “Peace sister, it’s not what you think.” She almost snarled, “You go off to war and come back with bones? I’ve heard it’s hard to let go of wars but this is-” “Didn’t I just say it’s not what you think?” He snapped and then drew a deep breath, Luca looked in both directions, glancing left and right as if checking for something, “Fine. You’ve corned me on this, I hope you’re happy... I’ll let you in on a secret little sister.” Sabine just crossed her arms over her chest, “Am I going to like it?” She asks warily.

He shrugs back, “it’s for all of us. So you should.” She leaned forward, “I’m listening.” Luca leaned in close, eyes holding hers like sunbeams, drowning in the wide deep. “Have you heard of Saint Ghita?” Sabine raised her eyebrows and stood up straight, “I’ve heard of her.” Sabine wracked her brain for details, revisiting mass and all the various lectures. Saint of boats? Bees? Sword play? She couldn’t remember.

Luca waved his hand in the air, “Saint of sieges, plagues, and devout protection.” He winked, “and sometimes soup.”

Sabine stuck her bottom lip out, “Did we stop for a liturgy?”

He shook his head, “She was buried in the holy city,” Sabine lifted her chin, focusing completely on him. Luca hadn’t talked about the war yet. “I saw her… when we reclaimed the City of Jade.” He said that part warmly, though there was a bite of darkness behind his eyes. “It took weeks, starving, patrolling, huddling in the cold and mud with nothing but… well, it wasn’t easy.”

Sabine felt slightly sick, “What happened?” Luca doesn’t meet her eye, “We hadn’t been paid in weeks. Barely fed either since the supply line was coming up short.” He looks toward the sky, “the commanders told us to take our fill of the city, take whatever we could as backpay.” Sabine eyes go wide in horror, “brother…” Her voice cold with warning.

“Don’t give me that look,” Luca bunched up into himself, “I didn’t do anything bad,” He paused “nothing the others weren’t doing.” He scowled at her and it seemed to burn. Sabine glanced at the satchel by Luca’s side, “and the bone?” Luca’s face lit up, “Oh! This will make the village rich Sabine!” He said excitedly, “It will draw pilgrims and wealth once I give it to our church, just you wait. A real relic.” Her stomach flips at the word ‘real relic.’ She shakes her head, “It’s someone’s bones.” She says darkly, “This can only bring ill fortune. You know the stories.” Do not unearth the dead.

Luca squared his shoulders and turned, “This will bring our family a great blessing,” he started to walk away, “You always were a small thinker. You’ll see, put your suspicions away, it’s time to start living Sabine, not just surviving.” He kept walking.

Sabine stood there for another few shocked seconds, he really has changed.

-----------

Sabine tried to reason with Luca that night, after the children had gone to bed and it was just them, sitting quietly in the heart of the house while the family slept. It seemed neither of them were sleeping well by then.

She let’s the silence settle as she focuses her hands busily. It takes only a few minutes for her to find her tongue, “This won’t bring us blessings,” she said coldly, heart beating fast. He needs to listen, things are breaking, the dog is barking. “Spirits don’t rest if they’ve been moved.” Luca glanced over with a blank look, “Don’t you pay attention at mass?” He waved at her airily, “No spirits walk the earth like ghouls, you either go to heaven or hell- there is no lingering. Forget the old wives tales.” She bites her bottom lip, “stealing bones, how does that make sense to you?”

He huffed a sigh, “This is a relic. It’s holy, given to use by the grace of God so saints may continue to fortify us against evil.”

He seemed to be parroting something he heard, voice metalic and route.

“What happened to you out there?” Sabine asks lowly, face empty, and Luca just stands.

“I’m going to bed,” he doesn’t look behind him, “Don’t scare yourself with stories for children and old woman while I’m away.”

Sabine bolted to her feet, chair clattering backward, “I’ll tell-” “Will you? Who?” He met her eyes and Sabine suddenly felt no taller than a sapling. She shrinks and he just clicks his tongue, “Our church will be nothing but excited for this.”

Sabine hunched her shoulders over and glanced at the corners of the room, her body shuddered with something she couldn’t describe. There are things beyond the church, Luca.

--------

At Sunday mass Sabine carefully studied her shoes and let the words float in one ear and out the other. There was nothing between heaven and hell, spirits went one way or the other, the church said clearly and surely: your dead are gone from the mortal plane.

Sabine closed her eyes and took deep breaths, can I really let more pots be broken? More howling from dogs and scraped knees? Who knew how long a spirit would restrain itself, dread cramped down in her chest, veins running cold. More cold hungry winters lay in front of them, huddled down in front of the hearth and making thin soup last for days on end and gnawing on bread crusts. Who knew if the spirit would ignore her ailing sister then. Who knew how long until it all got worse.

Sabine waits for the end of the Liturgy of the Word. The prayers and repetition rang out as church drew to an end. Sabine bowed her head and let it wash over her like tepid water, draining down her shins toward the floor.

Sabine made an excuse and slipped to the side of the room, waiting.

People flocked to Father Michael for several long minutes after, asking for counsel or blessing for their new baby or for the now dead. They paid little mind to Sabine, she was just another face in the village, neither striking or noteworthy in all these years.

She belonged there the way scenery did: a painted tree on the background of a theatre piece. Sabine was used to it.

Father Michael waits for her, folding his hands in front of him and gesturing her forward as the aisles emptied, “Sabine Romano,” he says in his practiced weathered voice, “it’s a pleasure to see you.” She nodded, “I’m sorry I haven’t been to confession as of late.” She admits, feeling the guilt prickle in the back of her neck as she cleared that out of the air.

“Think nothing of it,” Father Michael waves a hand through the air, he was an old man at this point, back bent in overly large robes and sporting thick stark white hair. There were rumors he drank mead like water and feasted with a particular fevor, but those were rumors and Sabine had known Father Michael to be nothing but demure and slightly monotone.

She raises her head, “I was wondering,” she starts slowly, “Do you know of a Saint Ghita?” “Yes, of course,” he says slowly, “Saint of sieges and protection from malice and plagues.”

Sabine nodded as if she hadn’t just learned that 72 hours ago, “Yes…” Father Michael smiled, “A sudden interest in saints my child?” She nods again, “My brother was talking about her.” She says truthfully.

“Oh,” Father Michael nodded, “She was present in the holy city, yes, that’s where she earned her sainthood.” He crossed himself, “She supported the soldiers during the first great siege from the east. She refused to leave even as plague took hold within the walls and she tended the soldiers and the sick. She died in the final attack, bravely so.” Sabine nodded again, “So… she was buried in the city of Jade?” She asked tentatively, cringing at her own forwardness.

The priest cocked his head to the side, “Yes, I believe so.” He frowns deeply, “There is talk they have finally moved the remains to a safer location, foolish to keep them in such a violent place for so long.” He was still frowning, maybe he had heard about the grave robberies as well.

Sabine’s eyes go wide, she reaches out to grab the priests robes thoughtlessly, “Where?” There must have been some intensity in her gaze as the priest drew back.

“I do not know,” he looked her over. “Is there something you need to say my child?”

Sabine let go and just shook her head, pulling herself in again quickly. “Nothing, no,” she said quickly, “I was simply curious to know about the saint who might have protected my brother. I’ll pray to her.” That sounded reasonable enough. The priest nods, “Yes, the lord blesses us with his safe return, that is wise.” Sabine tries for a smile but it seems to peel away from her face with the effort, “thank you.” She gives a slight dip of her head and then excuses herself.

Saint Ghita, she keeps the name locked inside her head, have mercy.

I plan was forming in her mind, but she had no idea how wise it was.

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

Sabine pieced together the truth from snatches of conversation and barest of hints from visiting merchants and loose gossip. The summer passed in the grind of the harvest and sweating through her dresses under the unforgiving sun.

She tried to keep her distance from Luca, expecting him to pull away and for them dance around each other like rigid marionettes. But he was her brother, charming with bravado to spare, and perhaps he assumed she forgot easily. Sabine busies herself with the mystery of Saint Ghita and the question of where she was now.

Sabine followed the trail of breadcrumbs: visiting Sister Sara as she came down from the convent, ‘yes, the saint’s remains was moved to the north I heard, up and up.’

A passing silk merchant said he heard a procession of holy men carrying remains up the mountains to the corner of the country.

A priest in training from the neighboring village said his brother heard that a saint was moved to a neighboring county. That it was done in secret except for passing strangers as witness.

It wasn’t until the soft curl of the autumn leaves, just turning from green into a crisp red color, that Sabine learned all the she could. She was standing in a corner of the marketplace, head bent and the clamor of Sunday vending days bustling around her.

“Saint Ghita?” An old woman, stooped and squinting at nothing, said. She was examining ripe fruits as she stooped next to Sabine. “Did I hear you say Saint Ghita?”

Sabine stood up straight, she hadn’t been talking to the woman, but instead a traveling trinket merchant.

“Yes,” she said slowly, she didn’t recognize the woman, an old crone dressed all in black. “Saint of holy protections. Among other things.”

The woman barely turned toward her, “Yes, I know her.” She said bluntly, “A fine woman.” “Uh,” Sabine gave her a funny look, “I suppose so,” she said slowly, “Though I heard something odd recently, that the sacred ladies remains have been moved. Strange, don’t you think?” She tried to make it sound natural.

The crone snorted, “About time they did,” she grumbled angrily, “The City of Jade is no place for anyone holy.” Sabine scrunched her face up at that, it sounded wrong but she wasn’t one to start arguments. “So you know of her being moved?” Sabine pressed, a flicker of hope rising in her chest. “Would… you know where?” The lady in black just nodded, “But why would you want to know?” The women cracked her eyes open for the first time, they were milky white and crusted with yellow gunk.

Sabine forces herself to take a step forward, she speaks in a quick hush, “She is important to me.” She clutched her chest, “I wish to make a pilgrimage.”

The crone stomps her cane on the ground and starts walking through the crowd in the other direction, Sabine hesitates for a moment and then follows. “Please,” she tries again, “I have only good intentions.” The crone simply keeps walking, “You are a young thing,” she gripes lowly, “the open road is no place for a pilgrimage right now.” Sabine bit her lip, “So you do know! Please.” She takes money out of her pocket, “It’s for my family.” She relents. The woman stops and turns toward her, her milky white eyes fixed on the place just above Sabine, “you are certain?” She sniffs loudly, “There would be no turning back, no way home if you set out.” Sabine’s mouth goes dry and she flounders like a fish for a moment, she looks around to see if people are watching them or seeing the strange interaction. People mill around them, chattering and ignoring them.

Sabine thinks of the hacking cough of her sister and the dozens of broken pots. “I am certain.” She croaks, “I must go.” “You must want it too,” the crone shakes her head, “It is on the western path out of town. Towards the rising sun, you will know it once you start. The graveyard of Isaac will challenge you, you mustn’t ever lose heart.” “The graveyard of Isaac,” she repeats, though it meant nothing to her, “Thank you grandmother,” she dips into a sort of bow. “This means the world to me.” “Leave then, before the first tree is bare.

Sabine reaches to kiss her hand, but she hears the barest whisper of her name. “Sabine.” Sabine turns to look for the caller, but no one is there, when she turns back the crone is gone.

The market is filled with a sea of people, all brightly colored and unaware of the woman in black. Sabine suppresses a sharp shudder and turns to find her family again, this is for them, she reminds herself, I will not lose heart.

----------

When Sabine was a little girl and yet to settle into a reserved young woman who was more sensible than she was fanciful. She was an untamed child, all loose bones and quick feet, when it didn’t matter if she was beautiful or behaved or anything at all.

She was the youngest of three children (technically four, but her other sister had passed before Sabine was born) her old mother was less agile to keep her daughter from flitting around as she pleased. But Sabine also had help.

She vividly remembered one day she had stolen away honey cakes from the windowsill and stuffed them greedily into her mouth, smearing her mouth with honey. She brought the corner of the last one to her older brother. He was only around 9 months older, so she never felt the exact reverence for an elder sibling, but something tighter.

She slipped into the pottery, hot and sticky with the fires of the kiln, Luca was sitting on the bench looking annoyed. He had never wanted to be a potter.

“Tato,” Sabine hissed, using the nickname that their mother had endearingly given him before he grew tall. She thrust her hands out with the treat, “it’s still warm.” Luca raised his eyebrows and took a few steps toward her, “Bina,” he shook his head and looked down at her stolen bounty, he cracked a smile, “no rest for the wicked I see.” She just grinned and he took the honey cake quickly to finish munching on it. It was a second before they heard calling.

“Sabine!” Her mother called with a thunderous weight, “come here right now.” There was an unsaid threat under the words.

Luca glanced toward the high open window and then back to Sabine, he took her shoulder, “Run silly rabbit,” he moved to hoist her up so she could climb out, “Before the wolf eats you.” She scrambled to swing her legs up, “Will you be in trouble?” Her eyes were wide.

Luca shrugged, “I was always better with words than you.” He was grinning his easy smile.

Sabine had little time to reflect as clipped footsteps came lumbering down toward them. She gave a nod and pushed herself over the ledge and toward the dusty alley down below. Her knees shook from the impact, but she was off before a second, shooting off toward the end of the road and to wherever her feet could carry her.

When she returned at dusk, her brother had red ears, but gave her a cheeky thumbs up all the same, “Wild girl,” her mom tutted, but there was no helping it.

Sabine would grow, Luca would hoist her out windows and tell her to run out to the pastures when he couldn’t.

These images flash behind Sabine’s eyes as she stands over the lumpy form of her brother, tucked into the summer blankets and fingers twitching now and then. Her brother hadn’t been sleeping well, but perhaps luck was on her side tonight.

Sabine searched for just a brief moment before she sees the end of a blunt bone sticking out from under Luca’s pillow. That couldn’t be comfortable.

Sabine takes a deep breath, “there’s nothing for it.” She took another steadying breath, “No choice.” She didn’t sound confident even to her own ears, but the old crone was right: there was no turning back.

Before she could doubt herself any further, she nimbly grabs the end of the bone, glancing between her brothers shadowed face and end of the saint’s bone.

Sabine tugs as quick as a hare in fright, she tugs and carefully holds the pillow up so his head doesn’t jerk down. Her body freezes as she waits for a response, but perhaps the forces that be were working for her as well.

Luca turns in place, shifting unknowingly, but his features remaining tense and closed. Sabine turns on her heels and quietly bolts out of the room, bone in hand.

It was well before dawn, she had as many provisions as she could spare over the last few weeks and her good shoes. She had ‘borrowed’ her brother-in-laws sturdy pants and thick white shirt, pulling on a thick vest she bought and fastening it.

She was built wide and sturdy, it wasn’t a perfect look, but with a cloak tied around her throat and her hair fit neatly under a felt hat it would do the trick. Lone travels rarely faired well in the stories and talk, woman travelers even less.

Sabine secured the bone in a sack slung around one shoulder and neatly tucked it by her side, she touched it one last time, eye fixed on the dark hushed streets, readying herself. Don’t strike me down spirit, she begged the saint, you will be rested soon.

Sabine left a simple letter, she frowned at it the entire time. Her father had taught her to read, but she had never had any training in spelling or penmanship, every letter was an embarrassment.

‘I’ve gon to help the family, donot worry for me, love, Sabine. I will be bak.’

She couldn’t bare to read it over twice and slipped out the door, refusing to look back as she flew toward the roads and into the western sun.

There is no turning back.

She disappears with her heart in her throat and the only world she had ever known fading behind her.

-----

historical note: this is set in fantasy-Italy, but stealing the bones of saint’s was a real phenomena in medieval times and the catholic church really didn’t believe in ghosts since purgatory wasn’t a thing yet conceptually for them

#original story #original writing #fantasy #fantasy-adventure #wlw #eventually #sapphic #f/f #my work

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bigfrozenfan · 5 years

Text

This is an excerpt from my pre Frozen I AU fanfic, which I started last year and have never finished since Frozen II came out. I'm not sure yet if I will continue writing on it. Right now I'm concentrating on my Frozen III Dark AU.This text was translated from German, i had no proofreader for it.

Title: An unwanted guest

Rating T

---

The ship anchored outside on the fjord near the entrance to the harbour. The Duke and his two companions boarded the dinghy, together with six other passengers, and let themselves be rowed the short distance to the pier. A light wind ruffled the Duke's sparse head hair. The cool air of the sea provided a pleasant climate in Arendelle now in the summer months. They climbed up the harbor steps shortly after and the Duke was already rubbing his hands with malicious joy. They did not want to attract attention, so he had Francis ask the harbor master for accommodation in the heart of the town. All three wore inconspicuous clothing that did not allow any conclusions about their true origins. Francis came back after a short time and gave the directions to him. They walked side by side into the city. Again, it should not be noticed that someone was moving through the city with two bodyguards behind him. After they had paid for two simple rooms in the cute guesthouse for a few days, the Duke quietly gave his instructions.

"You two will mingle. Go to the inns and prick up your ears, involve people in harmless conversations and find out worthwhile information...you know. We meet again here in the evening in front of the accommodation, say at the seventh chime. Here you have some coins in the local currency." He threw a small bag to Erik. "So go ahead... and be careful what you say, understand?"

The boys nodded and trotted away leisurely. He himself turned around and let the surroundings take effect on him. Every little detail could be important and every conversation he picked up on the way. Some little boys were making noise behind him and joking about his height. He deliberately ignored them. In the course of the day, he engaged some of the residents in inconspicuous conversations and asked unsuspicious questions about Arendelle and what people here in general were up to. If the conversation came up with rumors, he pretended not to believe them and thus persuaded many to tell more.

Finally he arrived back at the harbor and sat down on one of the bollards. He pretended to enjoy the view and the hustle and bustle on the pier, and it didn't take long before one of the traders here on the square approached him. "You seem to like it here exceptionally well. Where are you from and what brings you to our beautiful Arendelle?"

The Duke looked up and smiled at him. "Well, I'm just passing through and I've never been to Arendelle." he lied. "It's really wonderful here... and the nice weather... I could well imagine staying here longer."

Some of these little boys who had mocked him earlier, just ran up, sat down nearby and unpacked their marbles.

The dealer nodded, "Yes, many have done that. But mostly it's some dignitaries in their strange-looking clothes with all the hangings on the front and all." He made a suggestive gesture in front of his chest, "But they always leave two or three days later."

The Duke became very attentive, but put on a dreamy looking face, "Oh, that's interesting. I once knew one from the Southern Islands. He was also dressed so nobly. Very pleasant conversationalist, you know. Where do most of them come from?"

The salesman shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, they never introduced themselves to me." The clattering of the marbles had stopped by now, but none of them noticed.

"Well, I know a bit about that, if I knew what the flags on the ships looked like, I could teach you. Next time you would know about it."

The dealer waved, "No thanks, all that matters to me is that these people buy something from me. I have to go back to my stand now, someone is already waiting for me, as you can see.

"Of course. I was very pleased with our conversation, I will probably leave now too," said the Duke and stood. The tower clock in the city center just struck six times.

A few minutes later he arrived at the pension and went inside. He only had to wait a short time and the somewhat chubby landlady came out of the next room. "Ah, it's you. Can I help you?"

The Duke leaned forward with a grin and put his arms on top of each other on the counter. "You are a very kind and thoughtful, beautiful woman." The landlady crossed her arms in front of the luxuriant chest. He raised an eyebrow, "Um...you could indeed help me. I am looking for someone who might have recently taken up residence here, it is one of those dignitaries who occasionally..."

The landlady waved her arm at the door, "Go away, sonny." she shouted. He turned around surprised, when interrupted rudely in his flood of words, but saw no one. He pondered for a moment, then he started again, "You know, I don't remember exactly which...".

He was interrupted again when someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind and the landlady in front of him made a surprised face. "What...," he started and turned around. He grew pale and tried to grasp the situation. In front of him stood two tall guards of the palace guard in full uniform. They had their arms crossed in front of them and looked at him with a disparaging look from under their peaked caps. At the door stood another man who had bent down to a little boy. This one pointed in his direction and whispered something in the guard's ear. The Duke's jaw dropped and his eyes widened in fear.

***

The clock struck seven times and the two companions of the duke just came out of one of the few inns. They made their way to the guesthouse and waited there. When after half an hour there was still no Duke to be seen, Francis went inside to check. A few moments later he came out with a shrug of the shoulders and shook his head.

"What could have happened?" Erik asked.

"I don't know, but I don't like it. If he says he'll be there at seven, then he usually is. He cares too much about this to dawdle around somewhere," Francis said.

Erik nodded, "So what do we do now?"

Francis shrugged his shoulders again. "We must not attract attention, so we can't just ask everyone we meet about him," he said.

Erik replied, "Right. But we could ask the harbor master, because we wanted to get back on the ship together. Maybe he happened to overhear something."

Francis nodded appreciatively, "Good idea, I can't think of anything better than that right now." So they made their way to the harbor master.

At the harbor, he was conducting some of his helpers on the pier, who were loading some large stacks of crates. They approached him and Erik tapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry to disturb you, but we are looking for our companion because we wanted to get back on the ship together. Have you seen him by any chance and can you give us some information?" He described the look of the Duke and some of his most striking peculiarities.

"Oh, that one, yes, I actually saw him. Seems to have done something wrong, because three of the palace guards pushed him towards the castle," the harbor master replied.

Francis and Erik looked at each other very tellingly and the latter asked, "How long has it been since that happened?

The harbor master thought for a moment, "Hmm, that must have been about an hour ago. I guess there will be nothing more to come out of the trip back together, because as loud as he had yelled, he probably will have to stay in his cell for a longer time.

The two thanked him and went a little aside to talk undisturbed. "What a bummer. Now we look pretty stupid and we don't have much money anymore. What do we do now? Just go back and leave the Duke to his fate?"

Erik had put on a gloomy face. "I would be interested to know how it came about in the first place. I mean, our scaredy-cat isn't exactly the smartest, but to get caught like that?"

His sidekick giggled when Erik mentioned the Duke's fearful behavior. He would hide behind the backs of his two long bodyguards whenever a situation threatened to get dangerous.

"Yes, you're right, it is strange. Except..." Francis raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What if someone followed him unnoticed, listened to him and finally put one and one together?" He shook his head, "I guess we'll never find out, and the question remains what to do now."

They stood around helplessly for a while until Erik's face brightened and he started to grin broadly. "I would have an idea that would solve three of our problems at once. Just come with me..."

As they moved toward the castle, Francis muttered, "Well, let's hear it."

***

About one hour earlier...

The Captain of the Palace Guard was a stately figure and exuded an authority that earned the respect of many of the younger candidates for the Guard. He had his boys well in hand and drilled them until everything was to his complete satisfaction. He was just on his tour of the defensive wall when a guard called up. "Captain, we caught a suspicious guy in town. Could you please come downstairs?"

The captain grabbed the balustrade with both hands and leaned forward. "What do you mean suspicious? I don't have time for such trifles. What has he done?"

The guard came a little closer and said a little softer, "Espionage."

Now the captain's interest was aroused. "I'm coming!" There was rarely a spy in Arendelle, and his new measure of letting a few of the little boys from the town keep their eyes and ears open for some pocket money seemed to be crowned with success. Children were hardly noticed and their innate curiosity usually received little attention from new arrivals. He ran down the short spiral staircase in the next watch tower. The messenger was already standing below in front of the entrance. "Take me to him."

The Duke had his hands crossed behind his back and ran up and down nervously in his little cell. Apart from a cot with a light blanket on it, there was only a bucket next to the entrance, an iron-reinforced wooden door with a small peephole in it. Opposite was a small barred window in the raw wall, with a view of the fjord. He finally stood in front of it and looked out. How could this happen to him, he thought, and how would his two companions decide now?

He shook his head as the door creaking behind him opened. He turned around and watched for two guards. One of them was already standing in the room with the open door behind him, another outside in the corridor. Then there was a third person who was so tall that the Duke could not see his head at first. The captain had to bend down to enter the cell, and when he straightened up again his face showed a sinister expression. The Duke swallowed. The captain looked at the little man in front of him from top to bottom. Then he took two steps towards him. The Duke retreated with eyes wide with fear.

He began to grin broadly as he addressed the prisoner. "A little coward who wants to spy on us, like this. Guard, what do we usually do with guys like this here in Arendelle?" He turned briefly to the guard at the door and then looked back.

"First of all, an extensive interrogation, with the necessary emphasis, of course. After that, it depends entirely on how cooperative the prisoner shows himself. We have several ways to help."

The captain's grin became even wider. "Quite right. That's exactly the way we treat our prisoners here."

The Duke stuttered, "I..I..have not been spying, there...there must be some mistake. I'm the Duke of Weselton and... and I'm just passing through."

The captain clicked his tongue, "Did you hear that, boys? We got us a real duke here. Look at his gorgeous clothes and his sophisticated manners." The two guards snorted with laughter.

"Tell me, Your Grace, is that what they're wearing where you come from these days, where did you say... Weaseltown?"

The Duke got angry. "Weselton! I'm from Weselton! I wear these clothes only so that people won't recognize me. The competition because of the trade relations with...uh, Arendelle is big and I just wanted to get some information in advance. This will still be allowed and I ask for a little more respect!

The captain got serious again when he asked, "Maybe so, but can you prove it?

The Duke straightened up to full size, "I booked the boat passage in Weselton. The skipper can confirm that I boarded there."

The captain replied, "But that doesn't prove that you are really the Duke of Weselton; anyone could have boarded there in his name. Do you have papers aboard that confirm your identity?"

The Duke's heart leapt into his throat. "N-no, I was planning on traveling incognito. I honestly hadn't thought of that.

The captain shook his head, "We're not getting anywhere like this." He pondered and weighed his head. "Very well, first we will examine your statement and question the skipper. I don't want to be unfair and therefore first of all consider the possibility that what you say is actually true. So if it really is about diplomatic trade relations with Arendelle, it is a royal matter and I will have to report to the King. In your case he will have to write a dispatch to your country with an official request. But be warned! If you have lied to me and it turns out that you are a spy, then you know what the punishment is for that.”

***

#pre frozen fanfic #wip #excerpt #as contribution for #arendelle odyssey #mine

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