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planetkiimchi · 2 months

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the hard choice | ready, set, love

featuring: day, almond, paper, son, valentine, chun (from thai drama “ready, set, love”)

word count: 1.4K words

warnings: spoilers for the drama (last episode), lots of angst.

summary — my take on the last episode of “ready, set, love” because i wish we knew what son was thinking at the end (and i really love them and can't let go yet).

"I'm not going."

Everyone stopped short in their tracks, gazes filled with questions that were too difficult to voice. Day stared at Almond, brows furrowed head cocked. Don't do this, her pleading gaze said.

Son didn't bother trying to dissuade Almond. He could see it in his brother's eyes—were they even brothers? For they were unrelated by blood, yet brought up together. Almond's jaw was dead set, but his eyes were filled with desperation. Don't make me choose, he implored Day.

Son fought the urge to cross his arms as he stared Almond down. Almond didn't spare him a single glance, but Valentine tugged on his arm, forcing him to look at her.

"Please come with us. I'm begging you."

"I... can't." Almond's voice broke, and Son saw the monster in him fighting desperately, the part of him that wanted to leave warring his his need to comply with the rules. Because even since they were kids, Almond had always been the law-abiding one, the oldest, the most responsible. The one who hated being late and always saw through their lies, who discouraged all of their rebellious acts.

Most people had a rebellious phase in their teenage years. Son definitely had had one, though not half as bad as Max’s. The latter had always felt the need to act up more than Son, always wanting to be the one in the spotlight. Butt it was difficult when the person he was fighting for attention with was the perfect, sought-after, dream son Son. Son was aware of Max’s attention-seeking tendencies, but he assumed that letting Max win would hurt his pride more than if he didn't win.

However, in all 28 years of his life—or at least the 25 of those years that Son had been alive for—Almond had never been rebellious. He was a follower of rules, and when he had agreed to Day's plan, Son had been rightfully suspicious.

"He's never been one to break the rules. He's the one that's the most likely to discourage us from breaking the law, yet he's choosing to join us now. Why?" Son had asked Day.

"Why do you have to be so pessimistic? Can’t you just be happy that your older brother is on our side?" Day had replied, and Son had dropped the subject.

Well, look at where that left them now; Valentine clinging onto Almond's sleeve while Day and Paper hovered near the door of the van.

"I know what you did." Valentine looked like she was about to cry, her eyes brimming with tears, but—admirably, if you asked Son—not a single drop slid down her cheek. "I know you told Jenny about our plan."

The look of betrayed hurt on Day's face gave Son the push he needed to speak. If Almond didn't want to go with them, that was his choice. Even if Valentine was upset, she was Day's friend, not Son's. He had no qualms about taking Paper and Day out and away from that hellhole if it meant leaving Almond behind. They were already leaving two brothers behind, what was one more? Son could live with that.

But betraying them all? Innocent, naïve Paper, who had initially refused to believe that his mother might have been forced to give him away to the Farm? Day, who'd never loved Almond the way he loved her, but had chosen him again and again, giving up her chance with Son so this plan of theirs could succeed? Valentine, who'd gotten shot and risked everything she had, just to get them all out, including Almond?

If Almond had betrayed all of them, Son would speak. For Paper and Day, who were too stunned to. To give a voice to the pain in their hearts.

"How could you betray us? I had my suspicions when you agreed, but I never thought you'd sell us out."

"Let's please just go, Val. Leave him," Day said, having regained her composure.

"No. I can't. Haven't you wondered why I refuse to leave Almond, even after knowing he betrayed us?" Valentine's voice cracked. "He's my brother." Turning to Almond, she continued, "So, please, come with us. Your mother is searching for you—she has been, for your entire life. Your mother wants to meet you. She's waiting for you. Our mother is waiting. Please, come with us."

Almond shook his head, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he couldn't possibly go. "No, I can't. The Farm is my home." With that one sentence, Almond shattered all the remaining, fragile hope Son had harboured in his heart, leaving nothing but shards of piercing hurt in its wake.

To Son, the Farm had always been a prison, the physical manifestation of the government that had stolen his parents from him. But to Almond, the Farm was a place of luxury, one that had provided for all his needs, the home in which he had gown up. It would be cruel to force him to go; but it would be crueller to make the rest of them stay.

Day wrapped her arm around Valentine. "He's made his choice, Val. We have to go." As she turned, sorrowful eyes meeting Almond's, Son realised that maybe he was the reason Almond didn't want to come. He might not want to come just for his brothers, but if Day had chosen him instead, it might just be enough to make him go. Perhaps the knowledge that the girl he liked was in love with his brother was too heavy a truth for Almond to face every waking second.

Yet, no matter what consequences it entailed, Son would choose Day, every time, over and over again. Perhaps it was selfish of him. But he had grown up in a space where he had to fight for what he wanted, and he definitely wanted Day.

He'd like to believe Day wanted him too.

Paper climbed into the van, Valentine following behind and collapsing in the seat beside him. The tears had long since flowed past the barriers of her eyelids, streaming silently down her face.

Son was the last one into the van. Moments before he shut the door, he turned to see Almond, meeting those gentle eyes that had accompanied him for practically his entire life. In a fit of spite, he slammed the doors in Almond's face, looking away. He never wanted to see his brother again.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Paper whispered, staring blankly past Day.

It really wasn't. Not when Almond had always been the best big brother there was, the one who comforted them when they were down, who had taught Max how to cook and read Son stories so he could sleep at night. Not when Almond and Jin were close, so close people sometimes forgot they weren't biologically related. Not when Almond was the only one there for Paper when he was distraught hearing about how corrupt the government really was. Steady, mature, responsible Almond. It was never supposed to end like that.

"Tell me, Chun, if he doesn't come, then is everything I've done in vain?" Valentine asked. It was a question Son would never have been able to answer.

"He made his choice, Val. You can't decide for him. You did what you could." If those words had come from Son, they wouldn't have been half as comforting as they were coming from Chun. But when Chun said it in his gentle, matter-of-fact tone, Valentine seemed to accept it, sniffing softly.

Son looked at his brother, and his other brother's biological sister. The best friend of the girl he loved. And, of course, Day. All of them, broken shells of people who'd just had a part of them ripped out and left behind, just because Almond couldn't bear to leave. People who had been willing to make sacrifices to escape, but not losing Almond. Not that, on top of everything else.

And now, Son's girls—for he had come to think of Valentine as his as well, by some odd familial extension—and his brother were right in front of him, hurting. Because of one selfish choice Almond had made.

Son promised that regardless of what was to come, he would never leave them like that. He could never.

In his heart, he swore it on his life.

#blue #blue pongtiwat tangwancharoen #pongtiwat tangwancharoen #ready set love #thai drama #ready set love fic #day #darika chokwithee #kemisara paladesh #almond #valentine #paper #son #🪁 — my works

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hanaasbananas · 10 months

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Power to Play Chapter 6

A series of ficlets each based off a song from the McFly album Power to Play

AO3

Prev//Next

Taking Back Tonight - A (slight) enemies au

The sky was blushing on the day that Adrien decided to end it all.

It wasn’t a blush of mortification, or anger. Rather, it was much more gentle–the flush of first love suffusing through the sky above him as the sun shone behind grey clouds edged with a pale, glowing pink. It was a lovely shade of pink, one that reminded him of Marinette’s cheeks in those first days before she had known that it was better to hate him.

“Oh I don’t know what you’re so happy about,” Adrien said crossly “the chances of me making my way up there afterwards aren’t exactly high. Heh.” he snickered at his pun before glancing down at his feet. “And I suppose you’re blushing too?” He asked the ground sarcastically. “I’ll be pretty annoyed if you aren’t.”

Plagg–for once–had stopped shoving cheese in his enormous gremlin mouth and watched him worriedly. “You don’t mean–”

“ No,” Adrien rolled his eyes “of course not. I just meant that I think it might be time to…part ways with my father. Forge my own path.” He grinned wickedly. “Maybe even destroy a few things on the way out. What do you say?”

“What brought this on?” Plagg asked “a special lady–”

“This has nothing to do with Ladybug.” Adrien said quickly. “It’s not.”

“Mhm.” Plagg was unconvinced, but he didn’t push the subject further, returning instead to his cheese. “Whatever makes you feel better, kid."

It had everything to do with Ladybug.

Not that Adrien was ready to admit it to himself. He’d told himself over and over that his motivations were completely selfish and entirely unrelated to Ladybug, to Marinette. He definitely didn’t care about the disappointment in her eyes when she’d realised who he was, when she’d asked him to choose and he had left without a second glance.

Well. Maybe he did, a little. He’d wanted to choose her, had almost said the words, almost reached for her hand and chosen a new life. He’d often wondered where he would be now if he’d listened to his heart, if he’d not let his loyalty bind him.

But ruminating on the what-if’s didn’t change anything, not really. His motivations were purely selfish, Adrien told himself. He had tried to ignore it over the years, had trusted in father blindly and pushed down any resentment he had felt when his freedoms became more and more limited, when fathers single minded obsession had robbed him of his own dreams of university and a life outside of it all.

The time had come now, for him to take back the dreams he had left behind, to leave it behind once and for all. To hell with father! He’d never cared about him anyway.

He was going to leave. Finally. And Adrien knew one thing for sure: he was going to wreak havoc when he did.

The akuma was bearing down on Ladybug with single minded determination, its mouth stretching out into a frankly horrific smile. Chat shuddered. Father really knew how to create nightmare fuel. All around them, people screamed, throwing themselves out of its way. Ladybug was holding her own admirably, zig zagging as she ran but Chat could see she was getting tired. She wouldn’t be able to keep running much longer.

The akuma, on the other hand, seemed to be gaining momentum.

Shit.

Watching for an opening, Chat jumped down from his hiding spot just as Ladybug ran past it, scooping her up in his arms. All she managed to do was gasp before he vaulted away, leaving the akuma roaring after them down below.

“ Wh–” the rest of her words were snatched away by the wind and Ladybug gasped again, her arms tightening around his neck. She was pressed so close to him that Chat could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest and he resisted the urge to make a flirty quip, filing it away for use later instead.

Once they were a safe distance away from the akuma–for the time being–he set her down on a rooftop. “Careful!” he reached out to steady her as she tottered unsteadily on her feet. “You okay?”

“Just fantastic!” Ladybug growled, recoiling from his touch. She glared at him. “ What do you think you’re doing?”

“Is that all the thanks I get for saving your life? You’d be mashed potatoes right now if it wasn’t for me.”

“ Mashed–” Ladybug broke off with an angry yell. With great effort, she composed herself and smiled tightly. “Fine. Thank you.”

Chat bowed mockingly. “You’re welcome. So. What do we do now?”

“ We?” Ladybug echoed incredulously. “There is no we. Now I have to go and deal with this akuma and you are going to leave me alone. ”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.” Chat clicked his tongue. “I’ve kind of…well I’ve completely destroyed a whole bunch of my fathers research and abandoned his cause.” Ignoring the strangled noise that Ladybug let out at his admission, Chat continued.

“That’s actually why this akuma is so angry, you know. I figured I owed it to you to get you out of there. That is what a hero would do, right?”

Ladybug was staring at him, wide eyed. “You what?”

Chat blinked. “I owed it to you. I do have some morals you know.”

“Not that you dolt. You…left your father?”

“Well it sounds bad when you say it like that.” Chat tutted. “But yes, it was getting a bit boring to be honest.” He lied. For now, his reasons would remain his own. “I thought it might be fun to switch sides. You did say that the Ladybug and Black Cat are supposed to be partners, didn’t you?”

“No–yeah but” biting her lip, Ladybug regarded him carefully. “This isn’t some kind of trick? You aren’t going to leave again?”

“Nope,” Chat held up his hand in a scouts salute. “Cat’s honour. I swear this isn’t a trick.”

Ladybug snorted. “Bold of you to assume I think you have any honour.”

“Hey-!”

Walking over to the edge of the building, Ladybug looked over her shoulder and beckoned him closer. “C’mon then! I’ll give you a trial run.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, throwing her yo-yo and zipping away.

Grinning, Chat followed behind her, letting out a whoop of excitement. He didn’t know what was in store for him, but one thing was for certain: he was moving towards something much better than before.

#banana writes 🍌#ml fanfic #adrien agreste #i honestly have no idea what this is lmaoo

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lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall · 3 years

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The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

#snv x reader #snv thor #snv thor x reader #thor x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok thor x reader

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

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How You Get The Girl (This Love Final Part)

Bucky x Reader (elemental witch)

Set on TFATWS last episode

Note: Thank you to everyone that's tuned in, gave feedbacks, and liked/reblogged. I had to so much fun writing these! After this I’ll be working on oneshots completely unrelated to this story of several prompts.

We got a new Cap!

Previous Part: Untouchable

Marvel Masterlist

--------

“I’m serious, Shuri. I am over him.” you groaned as Shuri won’t wipe off the smug, disbelieving look on her face.

“Sure, Jan.” She replied getting up to continue on what’s she’s working on.

“Hey, I know that reference!”

“I’m just saying... Seven years of pinning over the guy – which five of it was when he was practically dead, by the way – and you’re telling me it took one confrontation for you to get over him.” She shrugged.

Some of the Dora Milaje were also in the lab, and you haven’t been vocal about it, but you didn’t miss the knowing looks they’ve been exchanging every time Bucky was brought in the conversation.

“Well, it would really be nice if you’re being supportive right now.” you sulked in your seat. Yeah, who were you kidding. Maybe you’re not completely, completely over him, but now you’re sorting to the fake it ‘til you make it method and so far, you’re doing well.

“Okay, fine. Want me to set you up with someone? My brother has some contacts around the world and I think with some buttering up he’d consider setting you up to bachelor royalties.” She wiggled her brows at you.

“May I suggest the Prince of Brunei? The internet says he’s looking for a wife.” One of the ladies snickered, making the others hum in approval.

“T’Challa knows him?” this piqued your interest. “He’s pretty hot.”

“Well make up your mind. It’ll take me a few business days of persuading my brother.” She raised her brows at you.

“It wouldn’t hurt to start dating. I’ll think about it first.” you muttered, missing how Shuri winked at the other ladies in the room. Ayo had told her in private about Bucky’s little confession to Zemo, and the princess has a few tricks up her sleeve to speed up the matchmaking process.

“I’m only staying for a few days more. It’s been a few weeks and Val’s been complaining from lack of sleep.” She’s been taking over your nightly escapades, and it’s starting to irritate her to be surrounded with so much booze but not being able to indulge.

Just then, Okoye enters the lab. “Check the news. There’s a live coverage of a hostage in New York. Sam and White Wolf are on it.”

--------

Bucky was looking over proudly as Sam was talking to the Senator.

Seeing Sam now walking over to him, he straightened up and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I uh was texting and all I heard was um a black guy in stars and stripes.”

They both chuckled, now walking side by side. “Nice job, Cap.”

“Thanks.”

--------

He’s done it. He told Yori the truth. Though now that might have been the end of their friendship, he knew the old man deserves the closure for his son.

Now back in his apartment, he took the notebook Steve once owned from his pocket, and opened it to the page where his list is. Looking over it, he saw that the only name left uncrossed is yours.

Just then, his phone pinged twice. One message was from Sam, and the other one from Shuri.

Sam’s read:

I wasn’t kidding when I told you

back on the boat that I’d get the

younger ones here to give you a

crash course on romance.

Check your email.

He rolled his eyes and opened the one from Shuri.

Y/N’s explained everything to us.

We saw you save those people,

White Wolf. Wakand is proud of you.

Brother says you’re welcome to

visit anytime. Take care!

p.s.

It’s good to know Y/N and you are

are on good terms. It finally allowed me

to set her up with one of the princes

mother’s been pestering me about. One less

off of mother’s list for me.

“Damn it, Shuri.” he groaned, reading the last part over and over again. He had to move fast. Heading over to his email, he opened the one from Sam.

The subject says:

21st century romance for reformed dummies.

There was an attached 60-second video. Clicking on it, he chuckled when Sam’s voice started booming behind the camera, where it showed two young girls and one boy, all around below 10 years of age.

“Okay, I gathered you here today because a cyborg friend of mine is need of help. I already filled you in the details necessary earlier, and all you have to do now is give him quick tips. Remember, talk slow.”

The boy on the middle spoke up. “Is she an avenger?”

“Not important, but yes. It’s the one with similar powers to an avatar.” Sam answered, followed by the two girls saying they know which one, and the boy to mutter ‘damn it I always had a crush on her...’

“Okay the first step would obviously be to say sorry.” the girl on the right said directly to the camera.

“Oh! Extra points if you do it standing like a ghost outside her door and it’s about to rain.” the other girl from the left perked up.

“I said he’s a cyborg, not a weatherman.” Sam commented, still behind the camera.

“Say you were afraid to tell her what you want.” the first girl spoke again.

“Six months is a long time to be afraid, man.” the boy in the middle spoke up this time.

“Try years.” Sam muttered.

“Then you say you want her for worse or for better!” The cheery girl exclaimed once again.

“You’ve been playing too many fake weddings, but yes, that could work.” Sam told her, making her beam, showing a missing tooth.

“Tell her you could wait forever and ever.” the boy added.

“I mean he’s already old enough to be your great grandpa but go on I guess.” Sam was snickering, causing the camera to slightly shake.

“Remind her of how it used to be. That is if he was good to her.” the more mature girl was pointing out. “Saying you’ll put her heart back together could also work.” she smiled, and the other one fake swooned on where she was standing.

“She’s right!” she exclaimed, while boy nods and says “that’s how it works.” at the same time.

Now turning the camera, Sam was now in frame.

“And that’s how you get the girl, Barnes. Straight from the local’s experts. Don’t fuck it up.”

And three voices scolded him for saying a bad word as the clip ends.

--------

It didn’t take long for him to take a flight straight to Norway where New Asgard was. This time without the aid of Zemo’s jet, he had to find the means to travel from the airport, while trying to calm his nerves.

As if the universe was on his side, a couple claiming to be heading back to Asgard allowed him to hitch a ride with them.

Now on the backseat, he tried to make small talk.

“So, uh, how are you guys settling in the planet?” he asked.

The lady on the passenger seat turned to face him with a smile. “It wasn’t easy, really. But the princess went out of her way to educate us about life here on Midgard. She’s so good at it, you’d forget she hasn’t even been living here a decade.”

He smiled. They claim you as their princess despite only being adopted by Thor. He recalls how you once rambled about being scared that they’d be indifferent towards you once Thor brings you to Asgard, one of the reasons you’ve been making up excuses to go with him.

“Why, would you look at that. We’re just in time before it starts raining.” The man driving commented.

Peeking through the window, sure enough, the sky was getting darker.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” he muttered. He might just take the little girl’s advice after all.

After getting out of the couple’s car, he ran straight to where he remembers your home was, just in time when Val just got out of your house.

“Hi. I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Bucky.” He greeted extending his ahand to her which she took. A skeptical look on her face.

“Call me Val. I’m sorry what are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to Y/N, please.” He answered truthfully.

“Well it’s about night time so she’s getting dolled up.” She answered

“I know, I know, it’s for her date. But that’s why I’m here.”

Val raised a brow, confused about what date he was getting all bummed about when you were only getting ready to go back to looking out for people out and about at night. But then it dawned to her that maybe this was some of your friend’s doing.

“Y-yes... the date.” She decided to play along, holding back a smirk. Just then, rain started slowly pouring, along with thunder. “Well shit, I have to help some folks get their kids back inside their homes now. You’re free to knock on her door.” She excused herself.

His own clothes were starting to get drenched when he finally knocked on your door.

No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Now footsteps were heard coming to the door, and the knob turned as you opened it.

“Damn it, Val, the door’s not even lo-” You stopped talking, surprised at the figure that greeted you.

“Bucky... are you insane? Don’t just stand there, come in it’s raining hard.” he urged him to get in and closed the door behind you.

Facing each other, he was taking you in. Val wasn’t lying when she said you were getting ready for your date. He can’t believe he was already getting jealous of a faceless punk.

“So uh... what brings you here?” You decided to break the ice, fidgeting where you stood, still barefoot as it looked like you were gonna have to stay at home if it was going to rain this hard all night.

“Don’t go on the date.” he pleaded, confusing you.

“What?”

“Please don’t go on the date.” He repeated, now walking towards you.

There is no date, but now you were wondering why he’s telling you not to.

“Why?”

“I love you.” he answered without missing a beat, now stepping closer to you. Instead of the reaction he was hoping for, you scoffed and took a step back.

“Don’t pull a Laurie on me.” you replied, a frown etched on your face. He was confused.

“A Laurie?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen enough adaptations of Little Women to know that you’re pulling a Laurie on me.” You spat as a matter of fact. “You’re being really mean, stop it.” you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“What? I- I haven’t even thought of that reference!” he defends himself, cheeks reddening from embarrassment. “Amy was gonna get married, Y/N.”

“Oh then by all means, feel free to come back just after he proposes.”

“W- We’re getting sidetracked here, doll. I came here hoping there still an ounce of you that loves me. Please don’t tell me you’ve completely moved on from me.”

“What, like it’s hard?” you replied. It surprised you when his brows shot up from recognition of that line.

“Now you’re pulling an Elle Woods on me!” he pointed at you in an accusatory manner.

“Don’t point that finger at me, Barnes. How was I even supposed to know you’ve seen that movie?” you rolled your eyes, walking past him.

“I watched all the movies you told me about back in Wakanda.” he spoke up, making you stop in your tracks to face him again.

“Yeah, that’s right. I watched every movie, I listened to every song, read every book you recommended, and visited every internet site you once said I might like. I was always listening even when I made it seem like I wasn’t.”

You stared at him for a second looking for any indication that he was lying. Recovering from the mild shock, you pursed your lips. “I hope you know the Porn site was a joke. Sam did it to Steve once and I just thought it was hilarious.”

His mouth twitched. Walking over to you once more he stopped when he was only a step away, not breaking eye contact.

“I’m really sorry, Doll. I know it’s bold of me to even ask you, but please give me the chance to make it up to you. And I don’t care if it’s me that has to wait for you this time. Take all the time you need, just please don’t go on that date.”

“Bucky, there was never a date. I have no idea what date you were referring this entire time.” you confessed, making him bring his hands to his face and groan, muttering Damn it, Shuri.

Hearing Shuri’s name, you put two and two together. “Is this about Shuri trying to set me up with a prince?” he nodded as answer. “Well, I did tell her I was gonna think about it.”

He removed his hands away from his face. “Please say no.” He whispered. “I’d tell you what the kids told me what to say if I have to.”

“What kids?”

“Sam got a bunch of kids on video to teach me how to win you back. I’ve already stood under the rain outside your door just like what one of the girls suggested.” Judging from the grin on your face, he was now regretting even mentioning them.

“Well go on, then.” you urged. “Let me see how much you’ve learned.”

“The first time I saw you at the airport, I got so distracted looking at you just casually sitting on top if the ramps while we were preparing to fight. That wink you sent me that day is still engraved in my mind by the way. Then I was so taken back when you bluntly told me you’re attracted to me. I-”

“I don’t think the kids taught you to remind me of my attempts to flirt with you.” You cut him off, embarrassed at the memory. He chuckled at your expression.

“Okay, okay.” he took a deep breath.

“I think I started catching feelings for you the moment they woke me up from my cryosleep and you were there to be the first one to welcome me back. I didn’t think you were still gonna be there like you told me. But you were there, beaming at me like a ray of sunshine. All my years under HYDRA, every time I was woken up, I was only ever treated as an asset. But you welcomed me like I was a friend.” his eyes were starting to get glassy with tears, as he tried not to choke up.

“And then every time you were near, or even when I’d get a whiff of your perfume, I’d start feeling all warm inside and my entire body would be at ease, knowing you were an arm's reach from me. You were the last one I saw as I disintegrated from the blip, and you were the first one I sought out the moment we came back.” he was surprised when you reached forward to wipe away a tear he didn’t even realize had run down his cheek.

“I lied when I said I made a mistake kissing you. It was the first thing I wanted to do the moment I saw you again. But something inside me was always telling me that all I could ever be is someone grateful for your kindness. That it was impossible for the universe to even grant me someone like you after everything I’ve done." He let out a breath before continuing.

"But it was also you, Steve, Sam, and heck – even Zemo– that made me realize that I am worthy of a chance. And I’m sorry it had to take you telling me you were moving on, to have the courage to accept and take the chance that has been long offered to me by the world." He took your hand and gave the back of it a small kiss.

"I love you, Y/N.” Now it was him that had to wipe away your tears away. “Please don’t cry, doll. That wasn’t-”

“Just fucking kiss me already, James.” you laughed, in between sniffles.

He grinned down before you. “You’re my angel with a potty mouth, and I love you.” he whispered, leaning down.

“I love you too."

---------

You and Bucky were out with the Wilsons on their community's afternoon barbeque.

Sarah and you got along with ease, and she was telling you all about their old family business when Bucky hugged you from behind.

"Sorry to interrup, ladies, but I have to show you something Y/N." he said, kissing your cheek.

"Ew, man. I still can't believe your old ass has a girlfriend." Sam commented beside Sarah who was laughing

"You do know I'm older than him, right?" you chuckled.

"I know, but you don't look it." he replied, causing Bucky to flip him off.

Excusing yourself, both of you walked by the docs.

"What's up, old man?" you grinned at him.

"You know what, doll. Most couples would have endearing nicknames for each other."

"I'll call you something sweet once you tell me what that thing you call me when we're alone means."

"What, мое солнце?"

"Yeah, that one! Tell me or else I'll keep calling you ridiculous ones." you threatened, trying not to smile.

"Anyway, мое солнце, I just wanted to show you a text I got from Shuri."

I am yet to have any news that you

manned up and told Y/N you love her,

White Wolf. I was joking before, but now

I really might set her up on a date.

You both chuckled at Shuri's threat.

"I got this." you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialled her number. You placed it on loud speaker once she picked up.

"Y/N! So nice of you to call."

"Hey, Shuri! Listen..." you feigned seriousness in your voice before releasing a deep breath. "I'm finally over Mr. Smokey eye. I think I'm ready to go on that date now." Bucky was playfully glaring at you for the nickname.

There was dead silence from the other side of the line for a second. "Oh! About that... uh turns out he already has a girlfriend. Planning to propose soon, I heard. Oops!"

"Well that's a bummer. How about the other bachelor royalties your family's friends with? I recently found an article with a list. I can send you one right now. Preferably ones that don't look much like blue-eyed grandpa." you grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. He knows what you were trying to get him to do.

"Uh... turns out my brother isn't that friendly after all." She let out an awkward laugh. "Hasn't Barnes contact you at all?" you could hear the frustration in her voice.

"Oh, that discount prophet, I haven-"

"It means my sun." He finally caved, rolling his eyes.

"What?" you asked him, immidiately forgetting that Shuri was still on.

"WHAT?" she screamed through the phone after a second.

"мое солнце means my sun." he grinned at you.

"Is that Barnes with you?! Hellooo?!!!"

"Talk to you later, princess." you turned off the call when she was about to protest. Facing him again, you stepped closer and put your arms around his shoulders, both of you sharing a grin.

"I love you, мое солнце."

"I love you too, minn stjarna."

"You gonna tell me what that means?"

"You wish."

fin.

--------

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @eliwinchester-barnes @ebxny27 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fadingdreamersportsmaker @drama-queen-aa

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my-reality-my-rules · 2 years

Note

Hey love your blog! So I'm not sure if this has been asked already, but do you have any tips on shifting for people with intrusive thoughts? I'm new to shifting and haven't fully shifted to any of my DRs yet and I notice that a lot of the time when I'm trying to shift, my mind will start spiralling really negatively and I'll just start thinking about horrible things. It's really stressful and it discourages me and impedes on my motivation a lot. Any ideas? Thank you! Again love ur blog it has brought so much positivity to my life 💗 hope you have a wonderful day/evening ☺️

[thanks for this ask!]

i think I've answered something like this in mid-2021...but i really needed to recheck that one, so I'm glad to detail it again. here's a list of things i do. I'm not sure if they'd immediately work for you, but I'd like to think they're worth a try ((:

- - -

(1) moment of silence // moment of mindfulness

my school uses this exercise even until today. basically, at the start of every lesson, just before/after the prayer, we would settle into a minute of silence. this is done in order to clear out any thoughts unrelated to our subject. back when we had face-to-face classes, this proved fairly effective; while it didn't work all the time, my classmates became a bit more engaged and immersed in our topics.

you just take a minute before your intended activity (whether it's shifting, visualising, scripting, etc.) and close your eyes, and breathe. do nothing else; focus only on your breathing, and feel as the air slowly moves in and out of your chest. just for one minute. while it doesn't stop the flow of thoughts, it can sort them out. the breathing might help in redirecting the intrusive ones, and center on the ones you'd progress with.

- - -

(2) listen to subliminals

this might differ on what part of your thoughts you're trying to target (sadness, anger, daydreaming, worry, etc.). i use motivation or productivity subs for both schoolwork and shifting. put them on loop for a few minutes, and simply listen. your results may not look to be coming at the pace you want, but they're still happening. they're incredibly helpful when reprogramming your mind.

- - -

(3) think of the cause

another thing to do is to understand just why you get those thoughts. what triggers them? how did they start in the first place? said intrustive thoughts might be due to other stresses that you probably haven't addressed—think of stuff in your CR that you feel you haven't resolved yet. I've mentioned this in a private message; you might not be aware of these current reality issues, and they would crawl back into your mind without your knowing.

- - -

(4) try this military sleeping technique

this is actually something the shinobi in my naruto DR do! i looked this up after speaking with a younger cousin, almost as soon as i shifted back here. to my surprise, soldiers in our CR also do this!

it's a meditation/relaxation activity. basically, you have to trick your mind into falling asleep in 2 minutes. first, lie down in a comfortable position. loosen up all your muscles—all the way from head to toe; feel every inch of your body and let go of the tension you've built up. take the time you need for this, until you're at ease. if you find your mind wandering off while doing so, focus on your breathing. focus on your breathing. think of nothing else; for me, i make myself dead set on blanking everything out. sounds and sensations are separate from you in that state.

it's often mentioned that you repeat the words 'Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.' to yourself as you do this. redirect your energy, whether positive or negative, and use it to fuel your effort. if you feel as if you're starting to fail, then you might as well fail spectacularly. think of it as an all-or-nothing of sorts, but in a manner where you're set on the conviction of actually fully shifting.

personally, this has been incredibly useful. it does make me fall unconscious faster, both in my DR and CR. for the former, it helps with keeping the uglier memories at bay; that i almost immediately go to sleep prevents me from overthinking too much. for the latter, it takes my mind off other pressing events that I'm not as willing to deal with yet.

- - -

i hope one of these tips is able to help!

much love, and happy shifting ❤️❤️

#shifting #shifting realities #reality shifting #desired reality #shift #Esther's shifting posts

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openedbooks · 2 years

Text

( @closedcoffins / x. )

Restlessness and Jaskier go hand in hand, as they always have. Roots have never suited him, no matter how hard he’s tried to grow them at times. He’s seen much of the known world, stayed in palaces and hovels and on the sides of roads, yet there’s no place that the troubadour has ever considered a home. At least not on its own. It’s with people that he makes his true home-- a very select few, at that, despite his consistent social butterflying.

Geralt has been one of those people for decades now, and Cahir is one as well. He wasn’t always, of course, but he’s grown to be one remarkably quickly! They were brought together-- the two of them and the others of their little company, as if by fate-- all converging around one another as if they belonged there all along. A key for every lock, as they say.

Well, if most men are locks, Jaskier fancies himself a puzzle box, but the comparison is still apt.

Which is why, even with his heart aching for the road, the bard cannot imagine departing to anywhere while Cahir remains here alone. Jaskier himself is not meant for solitude and he’s already gone and declared that Cahir would always have a place with him-- a promise he is in no hurry at all to break. Giving into his wanderlust alone would never be worth that, so he’s waited a good while longer than he normally may have to say anything on the subject. He tries for a reassurance, in hopes that he might convince himself as much as Cahir, that he doesn’t want to leave.

Cahir sees right through him, though, stunning him into a laugh as he answers his statement with a seemingly unrelated question-- yet, exactly the right one to ask. “ My word! Someone’s been paying close attention, I see! Am I so transparent to you now? Whatever will I do without my veneer of mystery?”

Jaskier gives Cahir’s shoulder an affectionate nudge with his own, rising to his feet and pacing a few steps away, turning his gaze to the horizon. “ Of course you are welcome with me. I made you a promise of my own, if you recall. You will always have a place with me, ” He turns on his heel to face Cahir once again, pacing back to him and reaching out to take his hand-- his good one, Jaskier makes certain. He draws that hand forward with a gentle tug, urging Cahir to stand with him. “ As for where, we could go anywhere at all! I’d like to go to the coast. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen the sea. I’m no good on it, mind you, but it holds a special place in my memory... And then perhaps we’ll carry on elsewhere. I could show you Bleobheris-- it’s really something, particularly once autumn rolls around. But two things are for certain-- first, you are coming along, and second, we have a lovely place to come back to once you’ve finished indulging me in my whims-- ”

Jaskier pauses, tucking a blond curl behind his ear as he shoots a slightly sheepish, entirely too cheeky grin up at his companion. “ If that all sounds agreeable to you, that is.”

#ic : jaskier #partners : closedcoffins / cahir #main verse : jaskier

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calaofnoldor · 4 years

Text

Fake It ‘Til You Make It

Characters: Sam x Reader (gender neutral), Dean

Words: 3,295

Summary: Dean and his lady of the night are being obnoxiously loud, so you and Sam devise a plan of retaliation.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, wee bit o’ language, mutual pining and other fun tropes

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on “Dean, Don’t” (there will be a sequel due to positive feedback!) tbh, i’m not sure how i feel about this one, but every single like, comment, and reblog is always super-duper appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Another hunt for the books, another bar tab for your fake credit card. Another leggy blonde for Dean, and another evening spent harboring your secret yet ever-growing crush for Sam Winchester. This was becoming a pattern lately.

You'd decided to join the brothers on their last several hunts after bumping into (and nearly decapitating) Dean in a vamp-infested warehouse in Colorado. That night, you bought him a beer to recompense, but he was rather swiftly distracted by the busty barmaid, and you ended up talking to Sam all night instead.

There was an instant chemistry between the two of you, what with your shared passion for monster lore and college dropout histories, conversation always flowed easily and often without end.

Tonight had been no different, from the moment you walked into the rundown bar in Iowa, and immediately placed a bet on the fate of Dean's evening entertainment.

"Twenty bucks says he goes home with that blonde in the red dress over there," you jerked your head towards the woman in question.

"Oh, you're so on L/N. She's way too classy for him. My money's on that short one over there with the space buns."

"Deal," you shook on it, while struggling to ignore the spark his touch ignited.

Three beers in and you had almost completely forgot about your bet, until Dean swaggered over with one arm draped casually around the shoulders of his blonde conquest. "We're gonna head out for the night, see you guys later."

You waited until the front door closed behind them before turning to Sam with a triumphant grin. "Pay up, Winchester," you held your hand out expectantly.

“How are you so good at that? I’m the one who’s been watching him my whole life.” He shook his head with amiable amusement while digging out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

You shrugged a little, “You learn to read people fairly quickly on the job.”

“Y/N, we have the same job.”

You pretended to ponder this fact for a moment, your brows furrowing, “I guess I’m just a better hunter then?” It was an obvious jest, and you both knew it, as evidenced by the wide, matching smiles that broke out across both your faces.

God, how you loved his smile, especially the genuine ones that brought out his dimples and lit up his eyes, but even more so, you adored any smile behind which you were the cause. Those you stored amidst your most cherished memories and replayed in your mind a hundred times over on nights when the insomnia hit… Oh no, had you been staring for too long?

Abruptly, you turned towards the bartender, waving the newly acquired bill in your hand, and proceeded to order the next round.

Fortunately, the night carried on with its jovial tone, and you were almost able to disregard the desire to touch Sam’s veiny forearms when he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid, or the need to run your hands through his luscious locks whenever a wayward strand fell before his glimmering eyes.

“I guess we should head out soon. Dean’s probably gonna want to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Right, yeah.” At this point, you were feeling a little woozy from the alcohol, and Sam’s hands were suddenly grasping your biceps as you rose unsteadily from the barstool.

“I’m OK,” you laughed it off, but instantly missed the warmth of his palms that seemed to seep through your clothes and set your skin alight. Sam simply smiled at you, yet something in his eyes was so resplendent you felt goosebumps replace the fire along your arms. You must have been staring again, for Sam looked away somewhat embarrassedly and asked if there was something on his face.

Ugh, why did he have such an effect on you? You’d been around plenty of male hunters in the past, some nearly just as attractive, but you’d always managed to keep your wits about you. Indeed, your unrelenting rationality was usually a subject of pride for you, yet here you were, a blubbering mess after a mere touch on the arm and that stupid smile.

Looking down, you grumbled a quick apology and a senseless explanation that involved blaming the booze before you took off.

Sam followed after you, but not before double checking that you had grabbed all your belongings. There was a strong and instinctive urge to look after and protect that stirred within him whenever you were around, and he couldn’t neglect it if he tried.

It wasn’t that you were weak and needed someone to look out for you. Sam knew you’d been more or less hunting on your own for years now, and could certainly roll with the best of them, himself and Dean included. No, Sam knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, yet he still could not brush the nagging need to keep you safe and by his side whenever possible.

At times, he felt as if a spell had overcome him and he was no longer in control of his senses when it came to you. It was annoying, really.

Tonight, for instance, Sam could have sworn he spent the better part of your time at the bar glaring down any man who came within three feet of you, foolishly daring to try their chances with you. He was sure you’d notice his strange behavior at some point, but you simply talked the night away with him, smiling that stupendous smile, the one that made him lose his breath.

Everything about you enchanted him, and Sam often found himself wishing he could just dive in and kiss you, hold you in his arms and never let you go. He was sure you could read it all in his eyes by now.

To his disappointment, however, you never gave any indication of reciprocation, always treating him in a strictly platonic manner, whether intentionally or out of ignorance, Sam didn’t know. But he never dared make a move, and he convinced himself that he felt fortunate enough to have you as a friend.

The walk back to the motel wasn’t long, although Sam took deliberately small steps to prolong your time together. When you reached the brothers’ room, your eyes fell upon a grey sock dangling unceremoniously from the doorknob. So Dean had taken Blondie to his motel room.

“How’s that for classy?” you looked up at Sam with a small smirk.

He let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head while staring at the sock. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he spent a night in the Impala.

“Hey, why don’t you just come over to my room,” you suggested as you motioned next door, “We can chill in there for a bit, wait it out?”

Sam’s eyes shot up to your face. All he had to hear was “come over to my room,” and his brain immediately began imagining all the potential scenarios those five little words could lead to… if you felt even an inkling of what he felt for you. He gulped and tried to reel his thoughts in, meeting your gaze with a dreamy look.

“Um… yeah, OK, sure, yeah. That sounds good. I mean, you sure you don’t mind?” he stumbled out.

You laughed that brilliant laugh, “No, I should probably sober up a little before I sleep anyway.”

Sam nodded, afraid of what words might escape if he opened his mouth again, and the two of you made your way towards the adjacent motel room. He watched as your delicate hands worked the key and instantly took note of the angry red scrapes and cuts along your palm when you turned your wrist to unlock the door.

Brows knit with concern, Sam silently berated himself for failing to take better care of you. He remembered you took a nasty fall when the ghost had thrown you aside to get to the brothers as they burned the necklace that tethered it to this realm. You must have landed on the concrete and braced yourself with your hands.

As you both stepped into the dim and modest room, Sam was about to ask for your first aid kit when you suddenly brought your arms overhead and stretched out your lithe body with a soft, satisfactory grunt. When the hem of your shirt rode up, Sam had to look away to stop himself from staring at the anti-possession tattoo that peeked out above your hip bone. Just that sliver of skin was so alluring to him; he really was in deep.

When you lowered your arms back down, you sent him a small, apologetic smile, “Sorry, it just always feels good to do that after a hunt and a night out in town.”

Sam nodded again, still finding it difficult to come up with the right words, but then he remembered his previous mission. “Give me your hand.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, dumbfoundedly. It was your turn to wonder if you’d heard right.

“Your hand, let me see it.” He repeated, and this time he simply caught your wrist and took your hand gingerly in his, turning it such that your palm faced up, so he could examine the extent of the damage.

“Oh,” you breathed out, slightly relieved, “It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” You tried to pull your hand out of his intoxicating grip, but he held on quite firmly.

“Y/N, we need to clean these and bandage them so they don’t get infected.”

He had pulled you rather close to him, to the point where you could feel his body heat emanating towards you, and you hated to admit the proximity was really messing with your mind. All you could think about was the deliciously muscled torso that surely lay beneath those layers of cotton, and what it would feel like to run your hands across it.

Sam took advantage of your lack of response and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. As he went to look for the first aid kit, you couldn’t help but admire his backside, especially when he bent over to rummage through your duffle bag in the corner.

When he returned to your side, you quickly closed your jaw and reached over for the cleaning supplies, but he held it out of your reach and grasped your hand again instead. Your eyes met for moment, and almost as if on cue, a loud, lascivious moan came through the room’s thin walls.

Sam felt his cheeks heat up, and hastily averted his gaze. He mentally cursed his brother’s wanton ways, but when he heard your giggling, all was forgiven.

“I guess someone’s having a good time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this’ll be quite as enjoyable for you.” He motioned to the alcohol in his other hand with a sheepish smile, “I probably don’t need to tell you this is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head slightly, but still winced a little when he poured the disinfectant over your wounds.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sam sounded truly remorseful and you chuckled.

“What are you sorry for? It’s not like you threw me to the ground, and besides, you’re helping me now,” you murmured softly.

“Well you did get in it’s way to protect m- us. And I don’t like to see you in pain.”

He meant ‘people’ of course, you told yourself in vain. He’s obviously a nice guy and he doesn’t like to see anyone in pain. That’s why he’s a hunter. Duh.

You were trying, unsuccessfully, to slow your heart rate when another emphatic cry came from the direction of the older Winchester’s room.

“Oh! Oh my god!” The high pitch had your eyes widening.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” came the muted reply.

You and Sam both rolled your eyes before he continued to treat and bandage your hand. His fingers, though rough, were improbably gentle against your skin and frequently sent shivers down your spine. It was all making you quite jittery and you really weren’t sure you could take it much longer. To exacerbate things, Dean and Blondie managed to vocalize their passions on at least five more occasions by the time Sam completed his work.

It was becoming rather aggravating, particularly because you found it extraordinarily hard to look Sam in the eyes or maintain a normal conversation with him when you were constantly getting bombarded by the sounds of his brother and his lady of the night copulating next door.

You stood as soon as Sam let go of your hand, needing to release some energy. “You know what, we can’t just let them dick us around like this all night!”

Sam laughed at your word choice and looked up at you, a fond curiosity shining through his eyes, “OK, but what could we possibly do to get back at them?”

You paused your pacing for a minute, racking your brain for an answer to their impudence. Sam watched as a gleam appeared in your eyes and a mischievous smile took over your features.

“I’ve got it! My friend and I used to do this back in college when our roommate brought dates home and they got a little too carried away. It’s basically a game of chicken.”

Sam raised his brow in question so you continued, “If they’re gonna be obnoxiously loud with their fornication rituals, then we can go at it too.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. An eye for an eye. We don’t even have to make it sound real, just as long as it’s equally loud and disturbing.”

“Y/N, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? That we pretend to have s-sex?” Sam was feeling considerably dubious about your plan, as he couldn’t imagine himself holding back if you were to act in any way sensual around him, even if it was all make believe.

Just then, another resounding squeal of pleasure travelled to your ears and before Sam could stop you, you took the opportunity to show him what you were talking about.

“Oh! Yes!” You exclaimed salaciously in return.

Sam’s eyes grew as he stared at you in disbelief. Your own eyes were closed and your face contorted to an expression of intense pleasure that Sam had only dreamed about. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his place on the bed, thankful that the first aid kit still sat on his lap as he adjusted his trousers a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t-“

“Come on, Sammy, join me! Trust me, it works every time.”

Sam didn’t have time to contemplate how much he loved the sound of his childhood nickname rolling off your tongue because a second howl came from the next room, this time lower in pitch, though you were there to answer regardless. “Oh my gosh, yes! Right there!”

If Sam thought the effect that you had on him normally was overwhelming, he was undoubtedly unprepared for the way his body responded to you making ludicrously pornographic sounds not two feet from him. Everything seemed to disappear around him until only you remained and held the entirety of his focus.

“Ooh, faster! Harder, Sam!”

Fuck. You said his name. And you said it with lust in your voice. It was as if all his fantasies had come to life before him in some twisted and desperately maddening form. Something in him snapped, and before he knew it, he was standing across from you, staring fixedly at your face, as you shouted in unison.

“Ungh! Oh god, Y/N!”

“Yes, that’s it! Don’t stop!”

Sam’s deep voice compelled your eyes to snap open. He was already looking straight at you, and you could almost taste the tension.

“Oh, baby! You feel so good!”

You didn’t join him this time. You couldn’t. He had you in a trance, his lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, the way his chest moved towards you when he inhaled, the sheer size of him. It was all too much. So you simply stared, feeling your breath come and go faster than you were used to.

There was a split second, or perhaps it was a lifetime, in which the two of you stood still, eyes locked in a fiery exchange, but in the next instant you both lunged forward, lips and teeth and noses and bodies clashing in a passionate, long-awaited display of carnal thirst.

But the kiss ended far too soon for your liking. “Wait, wait, Y/N. I really want this, but you’re probably still drunk, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you or the situation.” Sam panted hurriedly.

You smiled at his chivalry yet shook your head in disagreement, “Sam, don’t be an idjit. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sober, and I definitely haven’t wanted anything more than this, right now.” Your voice was just as breathy.

Sam moved his hands back to your face and that glorious, dimpled smile returned, “Baby, are you sure?”

The nickname brought a flutter to your heart, “Yes, I swear to heaven and hell, if you don’t kiss me again, Sam Winchester-“

His lips cut yours off in another bruising yet completely satisfying declaration of need. Your back arched and he brought one hand down to pull your waist flush against his solid form.

“Mmph,” you moaned against his mouth.

God, Sam couldn’t handle the sounds you made. A man could only hold back for so long. His enormous moose hands frantically grabbed at your ass, hoisting you into his arms in no time and carrying you back towards the bed.

Let’s just say Dean and Blondie truly had no idea of the spectacular and thunderous show they were in for.

The next morning, Sam awoke with a warm weight on his chest. He looked down to find your slumbering form nuzzled against him, head tucked beneath his chin and legs messily intertwined. A fond smile crossed his face as he subconsciously tightened his hold on you and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. The feeling of elation didn't fade as he closed his eyes to rest again, but it did recede ever so slightly to the backburner when the door clicked and his brother came barging in. “Alright, rise and shine, lovebirds! That was quite the show you guys put on last night, hope it didn't-“ “Shhh! Dean, shut up!” Sam shushed his brother with a stage whisper whilst scrambling to cover your bare back with the disheveled sheets surrounding you, but Dean had already glimpsed the evidence. “Sammy, you sly dog!” He wiggled his brows, grinning proudly at his little brother, "And here I thought I was the only one who got laid last night." “Dean, get out.” "Yeah ok, I'm gone," he raised his hands in assent. "But tell your sweetheart we're leaving in twenty," Dean added before he finally let the door shut behind him.

His sweetheart. Sam sure liked the sound of that. The corners of his lips struggled not to raise with glee. "Mm, was that Dean?" you mumbled against Sam's chest, fingers tracing the ink of his anti-possession tattoo with half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, just came to tell us we're leaving in twenty." He gave your hip a gentle squeeze "He knows, doesn’t he?" You rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Sam chuckled at your adorably sleepy state. “Yeah, sorry…” he trailed off, unsure of how you would respond to the news.

“Well, don’t be. That just means I get to do this whenever I want.” You lifted your head to kiss him hard, and his hands instinctively cradled your face, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap and completely awake.

“You know, I think we still have about 15 minutes.”

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! i’d now like to apologize for this obligatory self plug, but there’s new stuff available at lexicolor.redbubble.com, just fyi :)

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x male!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #mutual pining #sammy's got a crush #fake it #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #my writing #text #fanart #redbubble #lexicolor

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sixmapleleafs · 3 years

Note

Can you please write 9. “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?” with Freddie "The Great Dane" Andersen? 😘💕

“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Sweat clung to your body as the sun beat down on the house you had rented with your friends for a few weeks to kick off the summer. The drinks had been steadily flowing all day and the sun was still floating in the sky, showing no sign of going down any time soon as you all lounged around by the pool. You were lost in a new book by one of your favourite authors when all of a sudden a shadow was cast over the page, something blocking the sunlight from above where you were relaxing on the sun lounger. Looking up in confusion your eyes met Fred’s.

Ah, Freddie. The Great Dane who had stolen your heart ever since you first met him and his teammates at a bar back in Toronto after a big win. Your best friend and (unfortunately) roommate had really hit it off with Auston and they quickly started dating, which meant you were often dragged to games or the bar with them and also meant you got to know a few of the leafs quite well.

Freddie was different though, he was intimidating but sweet, and not to mention a hell of a lot taller than you plus the crush you held on him didn’t exactly help - he made you feel like you were in high school again. You’d be lying if you said your eyes didn’t linger on his shirtless figure through your sunglasses when he would step out of the pool or play basketball with Mitch and Auston, he had you hooked but you would never be able to work up the courage to tell him.

“You mind if I join you?” He asked gesturing to the empty sun lounger beside you, he had an easy smile on his face, one that told you he was relaxed and enjoying himself.

“Of course not” you smiled sweetly feeling your heart begin to beat a little faster and a heat rising to your cheeks. A few minutes went by as he got comfortable and threw a couple of chirps Auston’s way as he and your best friend emerged from the house.

“Hey, you’re coming golfing tomorrow right?” He asked out of nowhere and you turned to make sure he was talking to you and when you met his eyes you nodded, suddenly not being able to find any words. His smile was brighter than you’d ever seen and you heard him mumble “good”.

The next morning you got ready with your best friend and Steph before heading out to the golf course.

“This is your chance, good luck babes” your best friend said to you and Steph sent you a wink before the two of them quickly grabbed their boyfriends and headed towards their golf carts.

“What?” You mumbled mostly to yourself, but Freddie’s voice behind you caused you to quickly turn around and that was when you put the pieces together.

“Looks like it’s just us two” he smiled in your direction and you nervously smiled back, internally cursing the girls for putting you in this situation - this had your best friend written all over it.

Spending time with Fred was easy, even though he was intimidating, he was sweet and easy to talk to even when your nerves were clouding your senses. The golf part, however, was not going so well. To put it lightly, you sucked.

“Don’t even” you laughed turning to face Freddie after a particularly bad attempt where you managed to miss the ball entirely. He was desperately trying to contain his laughter but put his hands up in mock surrender at your warning.

“Let me help you” he said moving from where he was leaning against the golf cart. “Can I?” He asked before placing his arms around you over yours when you gave him a nod of permission.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought he might actually be able to hear it as he moved your hands to the correct place and did a few practice swings with you, you really tried to focus and listen to what he was saying but it was hard to focus when the smell of his cologne surrounded you.

“You wanna try on your own?” His question snapped you out of your thoughts and you nodded, taking a deep breath before trying to replicate his movements as closely as possible, and sure enough the ball went flying (in the right direction this time) and you couldn’t help but let out a squeal of excitement and jump a little at your achievement. Your cheeks hurt from how big your smile was and Fred let out a cheer and gave you a mini round of applause upon seeing your excitement. His smile mimicked your own as he brought you in for a celebratory hug and it was only as you were pressed against his chest that you realised just who it was you were hugging. A nervous laugh fell from your lips as you pulled away only slightly awkwardly but Fred didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re the smartest person I know, I told you you would get it” his praise brought a flush to your face and you couldn’t fight the smile on your face.

The sun was just as unrelenting as yesterday as you and Fred followed the other couples around the golf course, you were fanning yourself and drinking as much water as possible but nothing was helping the heat.

“You ok?” Fred asked as he drove the golf cart up a particularly steep hill back to the country club main building.

“Yeah, just too hot. I must look awful I’m so sweaty” you laughed.

“Well, I think you still look beautiful” you choked slightly on the gulp of water you were taking, your eyes darting over to his face to make sure that you heard him correctly. He just smirked and pulled up in the cart parking area, stepping out to greet the others.

Now you were really confused, there was no way he was flirting with you but those few comments had your head spinning, they were things you just didn’t say to a friend.

By the time you made it back to the house, plans were being made for dinner and you all decided that a local tapas place sounded good so you showered and changed into a light sundress, perfect for the evening heat. You all piled into the ubers and shortly arrived at the waterfront where the restaurant was located. Your best friend and Auston were walking ahead of you holding hands, Mitch and Steph in front of them looking equally as loved up. Freddie was walking beside you, the two of you choosing not to third wheel either couple but you couldn’t help but be a little sad that you didn’t have a relationship like them, you were elated for both couples but it was still a tough reminder that you still hadn’t found that kind of love yet.

“Everything ok?” Freddie said quietly from beside you, “you look a little lost in space there” he laughed but you could still see the concern written on his face.

“Yeah…sorry you got stuck with me today” you tried to change the subject.

“Don’t be, I got the prettiest golf partner out of everyone there” he smirked in your direction and you stopped dead in your tracks, causing Fred to stop and turn to face you, looking a little worried, like maybe his comment had crossed a line.

“This is going to be really embarrassing if I’m wrong but, are you flirting with me?”

“You finally noticed?”

You’re pretty sure something along the lines of “huh” fell from your lips at his boldness but he approached you before you could say anything.

“I have been since we got here” he laughed now looking nervous himself, he brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, “I’m sorry if I crossed a line, it’s just-”

“Don’t apologise” you cut him off, surprising yourself and him. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page and I wasn’t overthinking it” you laughed nervously and a smile of relief fell on his face.

“Does this mean I can take you on a proper date tomorrow?”

“Yes, it does” you giggled at his goofy grin and hopeful tone. Before you could register what was happening his hands were cupping your face and his lips were on yours, you fell into his embrace letting your feelings show through the kiss.

“Hey lovebirds!” You heard Mitch shout down the street, “stop making out we’re hungry”. The two of burst into laughter before Fred placed a quick peck to your lips and you slipped your hand in his to continue the short walk to the restaurant.

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagine #freddie andersen imagine #freddie andersen blurb #freddie andersen headcannons #freddie andersen #frederik andersen blurb

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nexyra · 3 years

Text

RWBY Analysis - Ozpin & Ruby, on the concept of leadership

In her song "Burned out", Dodie sings of her fans, how they look up to her and how uneasy that realization made her. For everyone is at the end of the day just as human as their neighbour; and having the hopes and expectations of others put upon you when you're just as lost as them can be a frightening thing. And this... made me think of Ruby & Ozpin.

On the subject of leadership, Ozpin tells Ruby the following : “Being a team leader isn't just a title you carry into battle, but a badge you wear constantly. If you are not always performing at your absolute best, then what reason do you give others to follow you?”

While I love this quote, I also have to analyze the drawbacks of this mentality and how they align with both Ozpin and Ruby. At the time, Ruby is a newly appointed leader and unsure of this reality. Ozpin's counsel give her the confidence needed to step up as a leader and take her duties more seriously, which in return appeases Weiss' and make their team all the more balanced. It is, in that context, good advice. A good leader should strive to lead by example and work hard to be worthy of the respect others give them, both in and outside of battle.

However there is one aspect that I find much more complex and that is... what does it mean to "always perform at your absolute best" and to have others follow you ? Note the use of follow, people letting you lead alone as opposed to "standing by your side" or a similar expression. It showcases in my opinion one of the biggest problem of Ozpin's leadership, but one that I feel has been inadvertently repeated by Ruby's.

- - - - - - - -

To cultivate hope and lies

When it comes to Ozpin's lies, I am of the firm belief that he had good intentions. Soo if you think he's the scorn of this earth, this might be a good time to tap out :D Now, this said I have a lot to say on the subject but I'll keep this short to stay on track (& make another unrelated post to develop my thoughts.)

In my opinion, at the core of his lies stand different beliefs. And on the subject of leadership, I think one stands out in particular and aligns with the advice he gave Ruby : the need to perform at your best to give others a reason to follow you.

Ozpin is the reincarnation of a centuries-old wizard and the headmaster of a school : what is one aspect almost every character agrees on upon meeting him ? "Oh, he's wise. He's knowledgeable. He has the answers. He has his shit together. He can tell us what to do."

Inherently, Ozpin's existence inspires respect and reassure. Just like to a child, a parent is all-knowing and unbreakable, Ozpin's status automatically give others the assumption that he knows what he's doing. And this, in my opinion, is one of the core problems of his leadership.

May it be with his inner circle, with RWBY, with ANYONE really; as soon as Ozpin reveals himself there are unspoken expectations that will chain him. He has the knowledge, he was here when it all began, he's the one calling the shots so he HAS to know exactly what to do. In that situation, breaking down and revealing to everyone how lost Ozpin is, how out of his depth... is unconceivable. And this is where Ozpin's conception of leadership becomes a problem as well. If you always perform "at your best" then you keep your doubts to yourself, you hide your sorrows and you put on a brave face. There are expectations in place that Ozpin wants (needs even) to meet. And thus the hopes of others and Ozpin's desire to fulfill them feed one another, as a perfect recipe for disaster. Because the more time Ozpin spends acting as if everything is under control, the more the expectations pile up... And coming clean about his humanity, the fact that he's just as powerless as the rest of them, becomes impossible.

And in that sense, breaking down the pedestal Ozpin had been put on was probably one of the best thing to do for his own mental health (though the method lacked a bit of compassion in my opinion xD)

The other part that somehow causes problem is how RELIANT on him his inner circle is. Despite their apparent friendship, Ozpin is the clear leader and as soon as he's out of comission, everything falls apart. Ironwood is the only one to call out Oz but in the end still wishes for the wizard to tell him what to do in period of stress. Qrow plays spy and takes order but doesn't seem really interested in stading at Ozpin's side as an equal. Glynda is stern but still defers to him etc...

All of them FOLLOW Ozpin but are just a few steps off from standing at his side. And this is something I see reflected in Ruby.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Following optimism up until it fails you

In Vol6, as secrets and lies are brought to the light, the loss of Hope that Ozpin feared so deeply happens. Is it worth it ? What are we even going to do with an immortal foe ? Maybe we should just go home. In that situation, Ruby is the simple soul who manages to keep her optimism, stand tall and say "No. We are taking the lamp to Atlas." And from then on her position as a leader and a bacon of light is reaffirmed. As Jaune put it in V4 "You gave us the courage to follow you."

Now is that, in itself, a problem ? Of course not. In fact I loved seeing Ruby come into herself and take the lead in Vol6. The problem in truth comes after, from the ramifications. From Vol6 onward, Ozpin has essentially been rid of his leader position and Ruby inherited it. And on a surface level sure, they are pretty different. Ruby is certainly closer to her partners : they're a family and they care about each other.

However, she is still clearly put at the lead. The others relied on Ruby's optimism and resilience to get to Atlas, and continue to do so. Setting foot in Ironwood's office, Blake tells Ruby "We'll follow your lead". They trust her, and whatever Ruby does... goes. They lie to Ironwood and Yang expresses some hesitations but eventually rally to Ruby's decision. And I emphasize this again : it is Ruby's decision. They did not pre-emptively discuss this as a group and then let Ruby be the spoke-person. Yang herself in Vol8 criticizes not their actions but Ruby's choices. Ruby calls the shots, Ruby is responsible for what happens, Ruby is their beacon of hope... Ruby is the new Ozpin.

Ruby has to be optimistic, and make the decisions and take risks because she's the leader. When Ruby leaves the room to break down, conversation & strategy stalls : the others don't take the lead. When things go south, it's Ruby's choices that led them here. Ever since Ruby has left Beacon, the only person who consistently encouraged Ruby to express the BAD, to share the negative has been Oscar. Even her silver eyes ask her to focus on only the happy memories to go off without a hitch ! The others comfort, they smile, they trust, they love even. But they don't want depressed Ruby finally grieving, they don't want honest "I don't know what to do" : they try to bring back confident and optimistic "we're gonna try" Ruby Rose. They want their earnest and happy but ultimately perfect leader that gives them reason to follow. In the end, even if they deeply care for her and have no shortage of warm coated reassurances for the teen, they still chain her down with their expectations. Ruby is NOT built for this. And I don't even say that in the "why is a kid calling the shots" sense, but "why is a kid put in a position where she's RESPONSIBLE for calling the shots ?"

Ruby is the youngest of the group apart from Oscar. The others should not rely on her this much to function. Blake telling Ruby that she looks up to her and that they'll follow her lead is admittedly sweet, but still builds up the pressure weighing her down. Blake calling out for Ruby's help when the teen has just been crashed to the ground by the Hound isn't even sweet anymore. They're all supposed to be equals. Blake is just as capable as Ruby. Calling out to your mind-controlled friend to bring them back from the edge is good. Calling out to your 17-old sister who's been beaten up because you need her to fight isn't.

They need to recognize that Ruby should not hold up the place alone. Because yes, they love her. But at the end of the day, Ruby is still the one bearing the weight of their decisions... Alone, even surrounded.

✦ ✦ BURNED OUT - DODIE ✦ ✦

He was certain; So was I There was comfort in her sighs

Dreams and ideas should not be the same thing You waited, smiling for this?

Oh, she'd want it, if she knew She could take it, I thought too Be careful, be cautious but you just wished harder You waited, smiling for this?

"But they love you!" Over and over, "they love you!" Thousands and thousands of eyes just like mine Aching to find who they are

"Oh, they love you!" Oh, you can feel how they love you ! Coated and warm but that's all they can do Words only get through if they're sharp

Oh, how fitting For one so fake Make me a fairy Whatever it takes

And just like a tale my dream was a scam You waited, smiling for this?

I am burnt out I smell of smoke It seeps through her cracks and so I start to choke Sentences sit in her mouth that are templated You waited, smiling for this?

Oh, maybe I'll talk about it... (maybe I'll talk about it) I can just talk about it... (I can just talk about it) I'll never talk about it... (I'll never talk about it) No, I cannot talk about it...

Don't build hope on something broken I am not cartoon. Cry for help, I am not joking I might just leave soon

#rwby #rwby analysis #rwby thoughts #character song #professor ozpin #ozpin #ruby rose #lyrics collage #rwde #does this count as rwde?#feel free to disagree in the reactions/reblogs I read everything !

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Healing Hands

A/N: I wrote a sequel to Healer! Though I think it could be read as a standalone too. It’s actually longer than Healer is but I wanted to write about what happened afterwards. It’s cute, it’s a little bit funny and a little bit steamy. Enjoy!

Title: Conrad Sewell - Healing Hands

Summary: Draco arrives at the readers flat to build the bookshelves.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Requested:

Warnings: a little bit steamy

Word count: 1.6k

A knock on the door signals his arrival. The butterflies in your stomach haven’t settled since you walked out of St Mungo’s.

“I brought Chinese food,” He says as way of greeting.

You groan, moving to the side to let him in, “My saviour. I am so hungry.”

He places the food on the table, leaning against the kitchen counter as you grab the plates and cutlery. It all felt very domestic; having Draco in your kitchen, in your home. It felt right.

“How was work?” You ask him, grabbing the takeout boxes.

“It was long, but I had this one patient – hurt herself building a bookshelf, if you can believe it.”

“She sounds like an independent woman,” You state, raising an eyebrow as you lift a forkful of food to your mouth.

Draco swallows his mouthful, “I don’t doubt it, but she was the highlight of my shift. It helped that she was cute.”

“Was!?” You shout, affronted.

He laughs, hands up, relenting, “Okay, you’re always cute.”

You point your fork at him, “That is correct, Draco. I’m ridiculously cute.”

Draco smiles; the kind of smile where his eyes crinkle and his teeth show. It makes him look so much younger and you wonder how long it has been since he’s had evening like this.

“You didn’t have to do this, Draco. I completely understand if you just wanted to go home and sleep.”

“I want to do this. I want to spend more time with you,” He says, honestly.

“You know Draco, I think you might be too good for this world.”

“Don’t be silly. Now hand me the instructions.” Draco mutters, grabbing the instructions and holding the close to his face – an attempt to hide the blush you had so easily brought to his cheeks with a number of words.

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

The bookshelves start to take shape in no time at all. Draco does most of the work, only accepting minimum work from you.

“Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again,” He says as if it’s a good enough reason.

“Nonsense. Hand me the instructions, Malfoy, I am the resident expert on Ikea flatpack.”

“I think the screwdriver begs to differ.”

“Oh, we’re making jokes now. We’re joking about my injury?” You gasp, holding your injured hand to your heart, pouting at the blonde-haired man in front of you.

Draco laughs; the sound of it making its home in your heart. At Hogwarts, you never knew such a warm, luscious sound could fall from his mouth.

You remember your vow from earlier; determined to make that sound the soundtrack of the rest of your life.

Draco focuses on connecting the piece of wood that would make the back panel of the bookshelf. “How did you get into writing?”

“It was a coping mechanism after the war.”

He nods silently, a sign for you to continue. “I picked up a pen one day and didn’t stop until I had written my first book. It needed editing, desperately, so I did that. And then there were further revisions and such but after a couple of months, I had my first book, I sent it off to a publisher, and I was sleeping through the night again.”

“That was the worst part of it for me as well,” Draco murmurs, “The not sleeping. I’d be awake for days on end. I did try to sleep but every time I closed my eyes, I saw it all again, every awful thing I did. I started to avoid sleeping, eventually crashing after a few days.”

“Is that why you turned to healing?”

Draco nods, “My family… they did so much bad through the war. There would be no redemption or if there was, there would be very little. I wanted to help people; I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. So I started to read what I could on the subject; raiding my family’s library and it went from there. I love what I do, it’s helped me become a better person.”

“That…” You pause, thinking of the right words, “That is a very noble reason to become a Healer, Draco.”

A blush stains his cheeks, “Thank you. Do you talk to anyone from school?”

You take a sip of your drink, “A few people, not many. Hermione and Ron never fail to send me flowers after a book is published. Neville sends letters from Hogwarts, telling me how happy is to be teaching. Do you?”

“Not really. I spoke to Potter not long back, wanting to apologise for my actions in school. He forgave me, surprisingly. Hermione was harder; I was so awful to her, but she still forgave me. I have no contact with anyone from Slytherin.”

“You aren’t the same person as you were at school, Draco. They know that and they understand that.” You state, remembering the conversation you had with Hermione when she had mentioned that Draco had stopped by and asked for her forgiveness for his actions through their education.

Quiet falls between the both of you; the only noise coming from the hammer being used on the bookshelves. It’s comfortable, and you’re practically assaulted with visions of a possible future – complete domesticity for you and Draco; an office for each of you where you can write and he can catch up on paperwork, but the both you know that he would rather sit in your office on your couch so he can be near you through your thought process. You see early mornings in the kitchen, the both of you still bleary-eyed with sleep – soft touches and kisses exchanged over the first cup of coffee for the day. You see the celebration of another of your books being published coinciding with a promotion for Draco; champagne opened and quickly forgotten as Draco presses you into the couch in the living room.

It’s over just as quickly as it began, and nothing has changed yet everything has changed – for you. Draco continues to build the bookshelves. You, on the other hand, have been knocked breathless by the strength of how much you want the man in front of you.

“I never asked: what do you write?”

You blink, recovering from your realisation, “Romance, mainly. Some Fantasy.”

“I have to admit, I haven’t read anything of yours.” Draco says, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

You chuckle, “That’s okay. I bet you’ve read nothing but medical textbooks for the last few years.”

“Got it in one,” He says, smiling widely.

“I’ve got plenty of copies of my books. I’ll happily give you one.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. It means I’ll have to come back for the others,” He says, cheekily.

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

Some form of sadness washes over you as the bookshelves finally stand independently. It’s as of Draco’s work is done, and the idea that you might not see him again for some time opens a hole in your chest.

You help Draco move the bookshelves into position against the wall; all the while, you’re wondering how you could see him again, trying to work up the courage to ask to see him again.

He beats you to it.

“I would really like to do this again,” Draco says, grabbing his jacket from where he placed it on the back of a chair.

“What? Build my bookshelves?”

Draco looks at you unimpressed, “No, I meant see you again.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling; you don’t miss how Draco’s eyes home in on the sight of your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“I’d like to see you again too,” You whisper.

You both linger in the doorway. Draco’s jacket still in his hands as if he doesn’t want to put it on because if he puts it on, it means that he’s leaving, and he doesn’t know when he is going to see you again, and deep down, he doesn’t want to leave you.

“Can I try something?”

“As long as it’s you kissing me,” You say bluntly.

Draco drops his jacket. His hands caressing your face as he brings his lips to meet yours. They glide together effortlessly, as if they were made for each other.

He presses you into the wall, his body lining itself up with yours. A hand travels to your thigh, squeezing. One of your hands finds purchase in his hair, grabbing at the blonde locks and pulling, drawing a groan from his mouth. You smile into the kiss; Draco responds by biting down on your lower lip – something he had wanted to do since he saw you bite it. He kisses you with passion, with unrelenting feeling.

It’s almost too much; the feel of him pressed against you, it’s almost too much and you can feel yourself start to internally combust.

When you pull away to take a breath, Draco begins to press open-mouthed kisses to your jawline, travelling down your neck before settling on a spot to leave a dark purple bruise. One of your hands runs itself through his hair; the other begins to pull at his shirt, trying to get it off, off, off.

Draco continues his pursuit down your neck; very much enjoying the breathless moans falling from your mouth. He stops when you whisper one word: “Stay.”

He pulls back placing not one, not two but three light kisses to your lips. He relishes the sight of you chasing his lips. “Stay,” you repeat.

He nods, searching your eyes for the permission despite it being spoken, and that’s all it takes. All the both of them need to know.

****

Harry Potter (general) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @lupins-sweater @summer-writes

Draco Malfoy taglist: @cheapglitter

Healer sequel taglist: @onebatch--twobatch @sydneyisnotawriter

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco x y/n #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #My writing #draco malfoy fluff #fluff #cute #draco fluff

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neoyi · 3 years

Text

Define Dancing

*shrugs* Oneshot prospecter fanfic I wrote. Largely safe for general public. Read under the “Keep Reading” tab.

The kind of rage Specter Knight held for Propeller Knight was different from the kind of rage he had for King Knight. That is, he was not filled with the sort of malice - such as a hair-trigger need to strangle that fleet-footed menace - as he did for that gold-riddled goon.

No, the kind of rage he felt for Propeller Knight was irritation and bafflement. He couldn’t help it, Specter had carried it from as far back during his days when he was still alive. Back then, he was Donovan, the “Greatest Adventurer Alive” (his words, his claims.) He'd read newspaper articles detailing the epic, glorious- and depending on the publisher, derogatory- stories of the heroic, charismatic, and devilish sky pirate who saved the local town from corrupt nobles. Or vanquished a gang of horrible trolls from doing wanton damage to the local ecosystem. Or how he stopped a terrible marriage between a kindhearted princess (who almost always fell for Propeller Knight in these stories, of course) and a despotic duke.

Donovan would grip every article until the paper crinkled, his gaze intensely bitter. He had a low opinion of flashy, glittering types and Propeller, what with his expensive jacket and matching golden helmet and rapier, reeked of elitism. And to think he called himself a thief!

A thief values quiet solitude and subtle movements; this...this so-called pirate was disgustingly flashy. No substance, no love for the craft that was grifting. He barged into casinos and museums with a grand announcement before pulling off his heist, beaming a metaphorical spotlight on his presence at all times. He was foolish and shallow, possessing a pompousness that validated Donovan’s theory that he was simply a bored noble who decided to play pirate.

"You don't have to read anything with him in it, you know," Luan advised, and quite frequently, too. “Kind of unwise to focus so intently on someone you seemingly dislike.”

“Seemingly?” Donovan scoffed, “He’s competition, I have to keep track of his progress.”

“We’re a blip and it’s what we want, Donovan,” Luan reminded him.

Still, Donovan kept reading because it was inevitable that Propeller would strike again and he had to know. (Surely, Luan didn't know about the secret scrapbooks he kept of all the Propeller Knight news articles he’d read.) It was simply easier to deny than admit to his jealousy that someone could be better than him, more likable than him.

But yes, Specter Knight did hate Propeller Knight because he was flamboyant and flashy and hideously, hideously smug. While he took little pleasure recruiting him into the Order, he relinquished the raw opportunity to fight him into submission. Nothing brought such a visceral rush of cathartic reckoning then when his fist first contacted Propeller's face (actually his helmet, but close enough.)

As the Enchantress’ second-in-command, Specter Knight’s duty was to maintain order amongst the No Quarter members, ensuring Things Went To Plan, as it were. That meant he’d have to spend an inordinate amount of time with Propeller Knight, a prospect that only King Knight’s presence could worsen. He was prepared for the pomp and circumstances, it was everything else about that man that caught him off-guard.

*~~~~~~~~~*

"I see you fly, but I never see you dance," Propeller observed. The captain was a notorious chatterbox and inane, unrelated conversations came out of the blue quite often. He was an endless source of useless anecdotes, switching subjects at the drop of a hat as often as he is prone to prattling on and on about specific topics relevant to his interest. (Had he not been a pirate, Specter would consider it worrisome that he knew so much about the delicacy of poisons.) His first mate informed Specter once that he could not be tied down either verbally and physically for if Propeller Knight should ever stop, it would mean he has perished.

Despite knowing better, Specter responded, “I don’t understand.”

"You do not twirl or spin or...or kick your legs up in ze air!" Propeller dramatically raised his arms. He had a habit of gesturing his upper limbs with particular emphasis on his hands as if pantomiming. "Even your ragged cape, with its holes and common cloth, flows beautifully when you fly, but it'd look divine in dance!"

"I'm sure it would," was all Specter said. He restrained himself, for anything beyond the laconic would be indulging this man.

To Propeller Knight's credit, Specter eventually downgraded from a fierce desire to perform violence unto the man and instead sought to avoid him outside of mandatory Order missions. It worked well for the most part. Propeller was remarkably respectful of his space, and only ever dropped by in passing for friendly exchanges and casual conversation. It was at this point Specter started to peel the layers off of Propeller’s persona. To his horror, he found something far worse than arrogance. ("I never get helmet hair, you see, for I've perfected my hair. Sleek and handsome, non?").

No, Specter’s motivation for quick retreat occurred because Propeller Knight was kind. And he hated it.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~*

It was contradictory! He'd seen that abominable sky captain throw a tantrum over slightly off-tasting wine, foot rapidly stomping in petulance. He would constantly gripe about the living conditions of the Tower. ("How dare I be subjected to a room with a window that has no glass! The humidity from ze rain ruins my hair!") And on days when he was of a particularly nasty mood, Propeller's insults could cut the very gaze out of a Liquid Samurai’s stoicism, as Specter has been witness to and victim of countless times.

"Why are you talking to me, Monsieur Reaper? As you can see, I am very busy and very cross, so take your hideous sense of fashion and go brood in a corner, as one does."

“All I said was ‘excuse me.’ I was just passing b-”

"Do you have an important message to deliver or have you come to haunt me or something?”

"...I have nothing to deliver."

"Very well then, be a good little Cabana Boy and return from whence you came until you actually have something from the Enchantress worth my attention.” Propeller could have ended there, but he didn’t, of course. "Go and, I don't know, play Joustus or something. Yes, yes, we've all played it, but some of us aren't as partial to it like the others. So go play your baby card games."

Specter had no idea why he felt compelled to defend himself that day. Perhaps he was reminded of his indentured services to the Enchantress. Maybe a glimpse of Dark Reize shouting commands a couple of hours ago stressed him out. Or perhaps it came from the morning reports he received detailing the ruination of the Tower’s entire southern west wing because of Plague Knight’s latest experiment (“Hey! If you didn’t want this to happen, then maybe you should have gotten insurance for Evil Towers or something!” Plague defended.) He didn’t know, and right this moment, he.

Did.

Not.

Care.

"I'm the Enchantress' second-in-command. I outrank you. I suggest you show me a measure of respect, you arrogant, superficial, piece of shi-”

"Are you still here? I said ‘shoo’. Shoo!"

Specter Knight left the room with Propeller Knight on his bottom, having punched that braggart on the face. Nothing he couldn’t shake off (again, the helmet helped), but Specter’s fist had been shaking. He would not take that kind of bullshit today and most certainly not from that haughty, pretentious asshole.

And yet the very next day, Propeller waltzed in, one arm raised in a waving motion and the other carrying a bouquet of roses that were an uncanny bright red. It was unearthly and almost a match-for-match color of Specter’s cape.

"Bonjour, Specter! Bonjour! What a glorious morning!" Propeller sounded so joyous, as if their interaction yesterday was but a speck.

He stood inches from Specter and practically threw the bouquet at his face. "Look at these! Our gardener has succeeded: Everlasting Roses. They will last ten times longer than the average flower. Look at ze red coloring! Zey are so magnificent that zey are almost magic! Oh, I am thoroughly blessed today!”

With such casualness and no forewarning, Propeller took one out and delicately pinned it on Specter's scarf.

"For you, because everyone deserves something beautiful," Propeller spoke with- and this was important- a hushed, gentle, reassuring tone, "May we all have a good rest of the day."

And just like that, Propeller skipped away, leaving a stunned Specter.

This wasn't the first time Propeller had pulled this kind of stunt. He could be cruel and cutting with his words and gestures (never let it be denied that even a clown like Propeller had his share of bodies he left in his wake for he was, above all, a pirate) and then mere hours later, hospitable and concerned.

It would be sometime before Specter realized this was Propeller's way of apologizing for his behavior the other day.

Whenever a denizen of the Tower asked where he gotten the rose and especially why he had it, Specter harshly spouted, "None of your business! Resume your duties!" Not that it was a mystery, every mook, minion, and employee saw the sunny pilot giving out flowers to those he felt needed them all throughout the day. But it was notable that their boss, Specter Knight, wore it all day, let alone at all.

**~~~~~~~**

It was hard to tell how sincere Propeller's feelings were. He was so prone to dramatics that his concern might have rung false, but again there was that feeling of contradiction.

“I am a Ringmaster and the public, my crowd,” Propeller was prone to saying. And for sure, as Captain Propeller Knight- most dashing and charismatic, played his part with grandeur and pizzazz. But eventually observation revealed cracks and, like Specter himself, Propeller hid his vulnerabilities and true feelings behind his helmet.

"So, where's your locket?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your locket. I’ve seen you stare at it so longingly until recently.”

Propeller’s emphasis on "longingly" caused Specter’s insides to squirm. He did sit on a very visible part of the Tower, tirelessly gripping the locket as he kept a contemplative gaze upon it, the red of his cloak strikingly visible against the Tower’s cool colored walls.

"It's not with me."

"Oh, dear, why not?"

"Because."

"Did you lose it? Oh no! Do you need help finding it?!"

"N-No-”

Specter did not get another word in, Propeller grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him along on whatever nonsense was about to happen now.

“I shall send the Search & Rescue Division of my crew. They will help us find your most precious thing!”

Thus, Specter endured a comical day of over twenty members of Propeller Knight’s crew scouring every nook of the Tower (that they could possibly reach anyway, the place was a labyrinth of chaos and uncertainty) for a teeny, needle-in-a-haystack, heart-shaped trinket.

He said nothing. Specter wasn’t sure why he was silent, preferring to let this man swoop in like the heroic rogue he branded himself as. This was indulging him. Yet amusement formed inside of Specter Knight’s head as he saw the gyroscopic jester frantically asking questions on the locket’s whereabouts, sometimes roughly grabbing minions by the collar and shaking them as he demanded an answer, as if he were a king who would not be denied.

When blue skies turned orange, Specter’s amusement turned to...to...well, damn, he wasn’t too sure how to describe this. Elation? Excitement? Warmth? Somehow this fruitless endeavor was endearing and uplifting and he was sure he felt his heart rapidly beating against his chest, even if that was impossible for a creature like him.

Propeller constantly held his hand in reassurance, repeatedly telling him everything would be alright, while at the same time trying to calm himself down whenever his writhing anxiety seeped through the cracks. By nightfall, Propeller was far more crestfallen than Specter Knight was expected to be. He mumbled under tears like a child who broke a lamp, “I’m so sorry. I’m… we tried. My crew...they have never failed. I’m so sorry.”

Specter was incredulous. Propeller acted as though he carried the world’s weight on his shoulders. It dawned on him that Propeller wasn’t holding his hands to reassure him, but to comfort himself just as much. Something had happened to this man, something similar and his reactions... he was empathetic.

Specter burst into laughter.

“Wha- What’s so funny?!” Propeller screeched. “Have you lost it? Why are you laughing?!”

“You’re so… You’re… God, congrats. You did it, you captivated me and sold me on your show,” Specter clapped his hands. “Truly you are a fine entertainer!”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“My locket is safe. I placed it away a while back,” Specter spoke, almost triumphantly. After all, he essentially had “won” this day, unintentionally tricking Propeller into an impossible chase.

Propeller reacted with an audible noise that at best could be described as a high-pitched, squirrel-like squeak of unfathomable wrath.

“I hope there’s another afterlife for the undead because I am going to send you there right ziz instance!”

Specter couldn’t stop laughing as Propeller pinned him to the ground, cursing in his native language. He shook the cackling reaper until he tired himself out. He released Specter and took several deep breaths, then got off and sat next to the lying reaper, growling all the way.

“I didn't peg you for ze type to have an abhorrent sense of humor!” Propeller crossed his arms, “It ...It feels me with rage!”

“You know your accent gets really heavy when you’re at peak emotion.” Specter sighed. “It’s cute.”

In an euphoric rush of unchecked happiness, Specter felt free to admit what he carried for so long: his growing admiration for this loony pirate. His compliment instantly placated Propeller, who sighed and lied next to Specter. They lazily gazed at the stars, their hands centimeters from each other. Specter was too terrified to go any further and Propeller too much of a gentleman to do the same. Their fingers lightly grazed each other and that was it for the night.

Damn it all, it was getting harder to stay mad at this man.

*~~~~~~~~~~*

If he was going to compromise and willingly talk to Propeller without an order from the Enchantress attached to it, Specter would pick the hour that befitted him and it would not be during a goddamn sunrise or sunset- Propeller's proud, naked symbolism. No, it would be when the moon was full and the stars barely a twinkle for the eye to see. His time.

Propeller was often in bed by ten (his usual wake up time being at the crack of dawn or just as frequently before it), sometimes midnight if he had a lot on his plate or felt in a particularly gregarious mood (drinking, partying, lovemaking, etc.)

Tonight, at nearly half an hour before midnight, Specter Knight found Propeller Knight on the edge of his magnificent and comically large airship, sitting in blissful contemplation. It was rare to see him still for so long. His helmet temporarily off, Specter could see the subtle curve of his smile, at once peaceful and perhaps somber. His eyes were half closed and his perfect (yes, it really was) hair blowing in the wind. Specter’s cheeks turned beet red.

"I'm awake tonight," Propeller started the moment Specter approached him, not even facing him, but already having sensed his presence, "because the Floatsomes migrate this time of year."

Specter stood still and said nothing, knowing Propeller had more to say (and often he did; Specter was reasonably sure- eighty-five percent sure- that he came from nobility; only they would make the kind of long winded speeches the way he did.)

"It's especially breathtaking during this hour; the light of the moon casts a divine glow that causes the Floatsomes' transparent bodies to shimmer in response." Propeller lifted his arms in awe. "And the most magnificent of rainbows cover every inch of their bodies. It's sensational."

So the two waited, Specter standing besides a still sitting Propeller. Aside from idle conversation (Joustus, the books they’d read, silly antics from other Order of No Quarter members, etc.), they mostly kept to themselves. They were thousands of feet above the air, with the mountains below, and only the Tower threatening to reach the Flying Machine’s altitude. The cold did not bother Specter for he was dead. Propeller was dressed warmly, but he was content to endure such a harsh climate- possibly preferring it. Specter did recall Propeller confessing that he loved to smell the wintry, snowy air because it was pleasant to him.

Specter was the first to spot the first wave of Floatsomes. From a distance, their pellucid bodies kept them almost camouflaged from wandering eyes, but the luminescent sparkling the moment they touched the moon’s light was unmistakable. Soon, the Flying Machine was surrounded by waves upon waves of crystalline jellyfish consuming the skies. Were Specter Knight to have breath, this would have been the moment where he’d lost it.

He stood beside Propeller and stared, unblinking, never wavering. Without a thought, their hands reached and the two held firm. Propeller slowly rose up and turned his head until they were facing each other. He held his helmet with his other hand and gingerly placed it over his head. They said nothing as they both inched closer to the edge of the ship.

With inspired synchronicity, they both jumped off to begin dancing together.

#prospecter #specter knight #propeller knight #neoyi talks #fanfic

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josefavomjaaga · 3 years

Text

Letters from Naples, 1815

Some documents relating to chapter 3 of Helfert's book on Joachim Murat. I have not translated the report by Pauline Bonaparte's secretary about Napoleon's escape that Mier refers to in his second letter, as it's quite long and I assume it's been translated and quoted before. But I can do so if there is interest. Mier's letters however, are about Murat's immediate reaction to this news.

Mier to Metternich (in his own hand). (N° 21)

This 5th of March 1815.

My Prince! His Majesty the King received this morning a letter from Rome with the news of the escape of the Emperor Napoleon from the island of Elba. The Chevalier de Lebzeltern took advantage of this opportunity to announce this same event to me. Your Highness can easily imagine the effect which this news produced on the minds of Their Majesties. - The King sent for me to come to him to talk to me about this event, and told me that in a few hours he would send a courier to Vienna. Campochiaro was ordered to declare to our Court that in any event the policy of the King of Naples remained entirely subordinate to ours, that nothing could make Him deviate from this principle, and that He wished to know what course we would believe necessary to follow in this affair in order to comply with it. The King repeated to me on this occasion how much he wished to give the Emperor Francis proof of His attachment and His gratitude. While we were talking we saw several merchant ships enter the port. His Majesty sent to find out where they came from. It turned out that one of these ships had come from the island of Elba and had left after the flight of the Emperor Napoleon. The captain of this vessel gave the King details of which we were unaware, and communicated to Him the proclamation of the Governor of the Isle of Elba after the departure of Napoleon.

May Your Highness deign to accept the assurance of my highest consideration.

Mier. Mier to Metternich. (N° 22)

Naples 9 March 1815.

My Prince!

1) The departure for Rome of two officers of our Regiment of Prince-Regent Houzards, who have spent a few days here, provides me with a sure occasion to send my following dispatch to Rome and to recommend it to the care of the Chevalier de Lebzeltern.

2) It is only the day after I sent my report No. 21, that I learned that on the ship arriving from the Isle of Elba there was a certain Mr. Mary, secretary to the Princess Pauline. It is from him that all the details of Napoleon's escape were obtained. I do not believe that he brought letters for Their Majesties, at least the Queen has very definitely assured me of this. She has been kind enough to send me the attached document, written by Monsieur Mary.

3) I had the honour of informing Your Highness in my last report that I had been called to the King's residence at the moment when he had received the news of Napoleon's departure from the Isle of Elba. I found the King extremely agitated, not knowing where to stop his thoughts. It was obvious that he did not know what to desire. He maintained that the Emperor Napoleon landing in France would have the entire army, the whole of France behind him; that the Bourbons would be driven out; that Napoleon would not have risked this enterprise without being semi-certain of its success; that if he found a very doubtful party of the Bourbons resisting him, it would bring on a civil war in France. "What side will Austria and the other Powers take? It is a very unfortunate event, and one which may confuse all at the moment when the main questions had been happily arranged at the Congress. It is no less unfortunate for me in many respects: it may delay the arrangement of my interests, and in the long run I cannot remain in this position; I must know where I stand." He would go out at any moment to ask for news of the ships entering the harbour. After a conversation of more than two hours in the presence of the Queen, he withdrew when a ship from the island of Elba was announced. Afterwards I had a long conversation with the Queen who always consistent in her way of considering things, wise in her views and reasonings, putting character and perseverance in the party and the course which she once convinced herself was useful to her interests, not varying opinion at any event, always preaching uprightness and loyalty, gave me on this occasion new proofs of the essential qualities which distinguish her. One could see in her face how much this event had upset her. She told me that she was extremely worried about the fate of her brother, who was running towards his inevitable loss; that as a sister she could not wish for his death, but that she would have liked him to keep quiet in Elba; that she was convinced that, if the Emperor Napoleon ever succeeded in replacing himself on the throne of France, he would hasten to chase them out of Naples, a thing she never ceased to repeat to the King; that the Emperor Napoleon, once again Emperor of the French, will once more upset the whole of Europe; that she knows his character too well to ever doubt it; that it would be wrong to believe that age and experience have corrected him. "The King", she continued, "has a fine role to play, it is to remain invariably attached to the policy which he has embraced, to unite his interests as closely as possible with those of Austria, to repel all the perfidious insinuations which will not fail to be made to him, and to remain firm in his promises and declarations. This is what his honour and his true interests demand. You know me too well to doubt that I will not do everything to this end.

4) A Neapolitan courier sent to London carried the same declarations as the one that left for Vienna. The same day that the news of Napoleon's escape was learned here, the King convened an extraordinary Council of Ministers in which he declared to them that this event would in no way change the course of his policy. Notwithstanding these declarations and promises made to his people and his Allies, I know that his head is hard at work; that he has admitted into his presence several French refugees in Naples, enraged Bonapartists; that he has had several conferences with them; that he has sent secret emissaries everywhere (I have pointed out to Marshal Bellegarde two of this number who are on their way to France by way of Milan), and that his announced determinations are very shaky. This event instead of delaying his planned journey to the Marches seems to have accelerated it. His saddle horses and some campaign crews left last Monday for the Marches. His departure may take place at any moment. His mood, his words announce that he has projects in view, but that his ideas are not yet fixed, and that he is waiting for the first results of Napoleon's enterprise. If He remained in Naples, surrounded by the Queen and by a few sensible people who, without flattering Him, have the courage to tell Him the truth, one could count on His not being drawn into a few false steps; but in Ancona, returned to himself, surrounded by hotheads, there is nothing to be sure of. I have done everything to prevent this journey, I have begged and insisted that it should not be undertaken at this time, because of the bad effect it would have, and the suspicion that He would arouse by this step. I know that the Queen, Monsieur de Gallo, the Count of Mosbourg and many other reasonable people have positively advised Him against it; but all in vain; He seems determined to go. It is not yet known whether He will leave the Regency to the Queen.

5) Spirits in Naples are very agitated. There are people who make wishes for Napoleon, without knowing what they are asking for; but in general one would be angry here if the King interfered in an affair foreign for the moment to the interests of this country, and in despair if He took up the cause of Napoleon; in the latter case I believe that the King should not count on the fidelity of his subjects. If He wanted to make a diversion in favour of the Emperor Napoleon by going to France, half his army would leave Him; it would not be the same if He remained in Italy. He would find supporters there and could do us a lot of harm. Prudence requires that we put ourselves in this country in a position to face any event.

6) The Princess of Wales has openly expressed much delight at the escape of Napoleon. She told the King that she hoped for his glory that he would not remain an idle spectator of the events that were being prepared; that he should follow the example of the Emperor Napoleon, who with a thousand men despaired of nothing, while he with 80,000 seemed to let himself be imposed upon; that the course he would take in the present circumstances might lead him to immortality, etc. This inconsiderate woman wanted to follow the King to Ancona; but I have just been told that she has changed her plans and that she is leaving for Civitavecchia the day after tomorrow.

7) The Capri, a Neapolitan ship of the line of 80 guns, set sail several days ago to join the two Neapolitan frigates which left for the Adriatic.

8) Until now no movement of Neapolitan troops has taken place in the kingdom.

9) Count Széchényi leaves tomorrow for London. I have endorsed his passport for Rome. May Your Highness accept etc.

Mier.

(Completely unrelated question: What's the legal punishment for throttling a Princess of Wales?) I also love how Mier praises Caroline to Metternich.

#joachim murat #caroline murat #napoleon #hundred days #italy1815 #naples #helfert murat

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kingreywrites · 4 years

Text

Smell The Ashes

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 4434

Rapunzel Appreciation Week Day Five: Life As A Princess

Summary: Let go, let go, let go Rapunzel pleaded, tears falling from her eyes, and without a conscious thought, she raised her hands towards the sky and let the power escape her grasp.

Or what if, in Plus Est En Vous, Rapunzel hadn't managed to finish the incantation after bringing Cassandra back?

Read on ao3

@s-vnshiine

It took focus, to hold the power of the entire universe in her hands - but Rapunzel had plenty of it. Cassandra died. Cassandra died protecting the kingdom, and helping her defeat Zhan Tiri, and Rapunzel knew she had to save her, knew that their story couldn't end like this. There was still too much unsaid, too many discussions to have, too… Too… much everything.

Cassandra died, and Rapunzel had only one thought in her mind: bringing her back.

That was why, perhaps, she couldn't stop herself from looking in her best friend's direction when she heard her nickname be whispered. Rapunzel turned her head, and saw Cassandra awake, and breathing, and alive and the only thing she felt suddenly was relief. Rapunzel breathed again, and in her overwhelming feeling of joy, she forgot something.

She lost her focus on the incantation. She lost her focus on the stone.

Suddenly, that powerful energy that was gently pulsating through her body became a burning pain, starting from her hands and spreading through her skin like fire. Rapunzel tried to hold on, to find her equilibrium again, but the pain was unrelenting, as if the stone couldn't accept her as a bearer anymore. Rapunzel thought she made a noise, but the pain was too encompassing for her to know - and suddenly, all she could think about was let go.

Let go, let go, let go she pleaded, tears falling from her eyes, and without a conscious thought, she raised her hands towards the sky and let the power escape her grasp.

The next thing she knew, she was on her knees breathing harshly, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her palms buzzing with pain and, when she looked down, she could see the red and raw patch of skin left behind - they were burnt. Not too badly, but enough to hurt.

"Raps?" Cassandra repeated, and Rapunzel turned enough to see her friend standing, looking down at her worriedly.

Cassandra seemed hesitant to get closer, but Rapunzel didn't even think - she scrambled to get up and threw herself at her, nearly crying with relief. She had thought- she had thought- Cassandra had been dead. And now she was hugging her back, whispering that she was fine and Rapunzel could only squeeze tighter, eyes closed and heart still beating too fast in her chest. She had done it. She had saved her friend and… And…

When Rapunzel opened her eyes again, the only thing she could see was Eugene, still lying on the ground a few feet back.

The overwhelming relief she was feeling turned into cold dread in mere seconds. Rapunzel let her arms fall from around Cassandra, body thrumming with anxiety as she looked back towards the castle's patio. Her friends, her family, her subjects- for a moment, she had forgotten. For a moment, she had been so focused on Cassandra, and on what she was herself feeling, that she forgot how hurt everyone else was. They were all lying on the ground, stuck under Zhan Tiri's rocks and-

Rapunzel had brought Cassandra back, but she had failed her kingdom.

She wrangled back the guilt that was threatening to submerge her, because the "what if" scenarios could wait. What couldn't wait was the people she loved, being hurt and weak and in need of help. Rapunzel ran to Eugene's side, and kneeled beside him quickly, hands trembling above his head. If he wasn't okay- he had talked earlier, he had told her not to take the stone, so that must mean he was fine, right? He had to be fine, because Rapunzel could already feel herself unravelling and if he wasn't here-

Thankfully, Eugene twitched and raised his head. "Sunshine," he whispered softly, relief evident in his tone, "I'm so glad you're okay."

Rapunzel laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. His face was a mess. She had noticed it when she first saw him on the ground, but without the lighting of the eclipse, his black eye was all the more evident. She couldn't see most of his skin, hidden away by his Captain uniform, but there was already so many bruises on his face and around his neck that she couldn't even imagine what the rest of his body looked like. In comparison, most of her and Cassandra's aches had been soothed by the stone's power - but they were the only ones lucky enough to be in its radius.

Eugene groaned, and she noticed suddenly that he was trying to get up. She hesitated, not sure if she should force him to stay down or if she should try to help him, but he was already halfway up so she didn't truly have a choice in this. When her arms went around his waist, she noticed the pained moan he couldn't quite contain, and she wanted to cry all over again.

"What happened to you?" she asked instead, once he was on his knees too, leaning heavily on her.

"Let's just say that, uh, Adira packs a mean punch?" he smiled, but she couldn't find it in herself to find this funny.

He was hurt and if… If she had been more focused, if she had finished the incantation, then none of this would be happening. He would be fine, and the kingdom would be fine, and it was all her fault that they weren't.

"Hey," Eugene whispered, his gloved hand coming to brush out a tear from her eyes. "You did a good job, Rapunzel."

It was a simple sentence. He didn't even use a nickname, didn't try to imply anymore than what was said. His eyes were half-lidded from the exhaustion, but still looking at her softly, full of love and tenderness. It was a simple, honest sentence, but the words felt like a punch to her already unstable emotional state because- she didn't do a good job. She failed him, failed her friends, failed her kingdom, because she was so focused on her friend that she forgot her responsibility as a Princess. You did a good job, Rapunzel, Eugene said, and Rapunzel broke down right here and now, because she was tired and there was still so much to fix. She hid her face in his neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes, and she could feel him hug her, the pressure weaker than it usually was. Eugene was hurt, and- and-

She felt him shift a little, one hand leaving her back, and before she could wonder about what he was doing, Cassandra was here behind her, hugging them both too. She was alive, and warm, when Rapunzel remembered feeling her limp body under her hands only some minutes prior. Maybe- maybe she should have done more, yes, but Cassandra was alive. Eugene was hurt, but alive. Same for the Coronans. She might have not succeeded in healing them magically but they could still heal - Cassandra wouldn't have had this possibility.

She knew Eugene had done this on purpose; had reminded her of what she had accomplished, because he knew her well enough to guess the guilt that was eating at her. Despite everything, Eugene always put her first, always made sure that she was fine - and now, it was her turn to be strong for others.

Rapunzel dried her tears, and got up, feeling both Eugene's and Cassandra's gaze on her. She surveyed her kingdom - saw how the rock prisons seemed to be fraying already without the stone to power them; saw how some people, notably members of the brotherhood, were slowly getting up by themselves - and she knew that the next part of their lives was going to be difficult. Sometimes, healing had to take more than magic, but she would be their to help her people along.

She would be the Princess they needed.

And when she looked back at Eugene and Cassandra, they were both standing, Eugene leaning a little on Cassandra for help. Most importantly, they were looking at her confidently, certain that she would make the best decisions - and the pressure she might have felt from this trust once upon a time was muffled now.

"Come on," she smiled, voice still scratchy from her previous tears, "we've still got a kingdom to save."

------

Fixing the damages from Zhan Tiri's takeover was hard work. Rapunzel knew, going in, that it would take time, and that she might have to maintain her optimism even when things were bleak because her kingdom was counting on her - but knowing it and doing it were two different things.

She was tired.

The decaying incantation had severely weakened a lot of people. Thankfully, they quickly understood that the further away people had been from Zhan Tiri, the less they had been affected by the spell - which meant that the Coronans who didn't participate in the battle came forward to help in the clean up.

It was… better than nothing. Rapunzel was grateful for all the help they could get.

One week later, most people that had been right in the center of the events were still confined to bed rest. They were not dying, thankfully, but their health was frail and they needed more time to recover. There were three exceptions to this: first, Adira and Hector, who didn't like the idea of being stuck in Corona, and had decided to go heal somewhere else. Rapunzel had tried to convince them to change their minds, worried, but in Adira's words, they were not meant to stay in one place for too long, and they had to clear some things up together anyway. She hoped they were fine, and she had offered them a place to stay in the castle if they ever needed one.

The last exception was Eugene, who had been powering through since day one, and had quickly resumed his activities as Captain. Rapunzel was more grateful than she could ever put into words - he had been dealing with protecting Corona, making sure that security was still tight despite the kingdom lacking more than half of its guards. He had also helped organise the medical assistance given to the citizens, and the giant infirmary Rapunzel had insisted on opening in the castle, because she wanted to make sure that everyone would have access to the help they needed. She didn't know what she would have done if Eugene hadn't been managing the logistics so well, hadn't gotten that weight off her shoulders.

With her parents still bedridden, Rapunzel was effectively acting as Queen, more or less stuck with smoothing out some ruffled feathers across the continent. Some kingdoms were angry, to say the least, that Corona had nearly let an all-powerful demon destroy the world. Some tried to take advantage of their weakened position to make outrageous demands, and Rapunzel had to squash them immediately before they became too big of a problem. Between requests of new unfavourable trade deals, discussions of Corona paying for damages that they had nothing to do with and even the proposition of an alliance through a marriage, Rapunzel's headache was a well-fed, ever-growing monster.

(To be fair, the marriage proposal had made her laugh, until she understood the seriousness of the letter. Then, it was all a game of saying no without actually offending the other party.)

So, optimism was hard to maintain. Though, there were positives: a lot of kingdoms had also came forward to help, and sent in medical assistance and food. Equis, especially, had been a greater help than she had dared hope for when she asked - King Trevor was still as eccentric as ever, but his fondness for her mom and his animosity towards her dad made him want them both to be okay, so they could go on with that weird dynamics of theirs. Rapunzel wasn't about to say no. Another positive was that Corona's crops were not as affected as she had first feared. Most of the damage actually focused on infrastructure, so the animals and the plants were mostly okay, as were the people who hadn't faced Zhan Tiri directly.

No one had died and, for that, Rapunzel would be eternally grateful. Her mistake was still eating at her, even though numerous people had told her she had done her best - but she knew she could have done more. She was trying to be the Princess Corona deserved, trying to be strong for everyone in their time of need, but she didn't know what she might have done if she had learnt that her letting go had resulted in someone passing away.

Things weren't too bad, overall. Stressful, yes, but she knew they could heal from this.

There was, however, one last thing that worsened her constant headache.

"Your Highness," one council member said, condescension dripping from his tone, "you can't expect us to let Miss Cassandra go without any consequences simply because she is your friend, I hope you know that?"

The room exploded in half-yelled arguments as Rapunzel pinched her nose, already exhausted. In barely a week, they had had this conversation approximately twice a day. The council was a bunch of old, wealthy men who didn't have much power at all - but in time of crisis, they suddenly appeared to give their opinions on everything. Rapunzel actually quite liked the idea of a council, and hadn't seen anything wrong with them helping her deal with the fallout of Zhan Tiri, but it quickly became clear that these men knew nothing about the hardships Coronans faced. It needed a serious reform, if she ever hoped it could be of any help, but now was not the time for it, and so, she was stuck with dealing with them for the time being.

"And I hope you know," Rapunzel said lowly, commanding silence across the room, "esteemed council-member, that I do not take dearly in being accused of playing favourites."

"The people need someone to blame-"

"The people are smarter than that," she glared in his direction, "and if it is truly a need, then you'll find in the ancient demon Zhan Tiri the perfect subject of your ire."

"But still-"

"Enough." She hadn't yelled, but in that moment, no one would have dared going against her. Raising herself up on her chair, she exuded confidence and royalty. "We had this conversation already, but let me make it clear one last time: I will not send Cassandra to prison. We have punished criminals before, and it only served to push them further down on their paths, making them bitter and resentful."

Her tone was still even but the images of Varian flashing through her mind nearly made her waver - she took a deep breath, and kept talking.

"Cassandra showed that she was ready to give up everything for this kingdom," she explained, tightening her still bandaged fists under the table. "I need- We need to encourage her in this direction, and we also need everyone that faces our justice to know that redemption is worth it. That, if they strive to do better, they will find a helping hand in our kingdom, and not a punishing stick. As your Princess, and your future Queen, I know that this is the only possible direction Corona can take to better its juridical system."

For the first time since she met them, none of the men of the council had anything to answer to that. In her heart, she wanted to keep going, and tell them how Cassandra had died for them; how she had then helped gather the wounded with her, how she had tried to make amends with those she wronged, how she was still helping rebuild and making herself useful. Rapunzel wanted to defend her best friend, because she was persuaded that Cassandra didn't deserve the anger of the council - but Princess Rapunzel knew that her personal reasons were not of interest here. She couldn't think about it in terms of what Cassandra deserved, but in terms of what any Coronans, and even foreign criminals would deserve if they had committed the same crimes.

She didn't want to be the leader of a country where someone could be hanged for stealing, and she had spent more than enough time accepting the situation as is.

And the more she had thought of it, since they vanquished Zhan Tiri, the more she was sure that there were other people - people like Lady Cain, the Saporians, or even the Stabbingtons - that she had wronged by not giving them the chance they deserved. She didn't know if she would ever find the solution for all of these problems, but the first step was to try.

"Thus, Cassandra will not be going to jail, and I will not accept another argument about it," Rapunzel finally sighed. "I think that it's enough for today's session anyway," she said and, soon, the councilmen were going their own way, whispering frantically between themselves.

Once she was alone, Rapunzel stretched tiredly, realising that it would soon be lunch and that she hadn't even gone to town to survey the reconstruction like she did everyday. Being a Princess meant that she had to deal with plenty of debates, and plenty of bureaucratic arguments, but she refused to stay confined to the castle all day. She wanted Coronans to see that she was here for them and, by going to see with her own eyes the state of things, she knew she was forcing the most unprincipled people to do the best work they could. She wouldn't stand for houses to be badly fixed because some people wanted to make money out of others' misery.

"Uh, Princ- I mean, your Highness?" a shy voice said, interrupting her thoughts. She turned and saw that it was a young guard, probably a little inexperienced with his current position since Eugene had to shift things around so the castle's security was assured.

"Yes?" she answered as gently as she could, because she knew her current bad mood was no reason to spook a well-meaning guard.

"I- uhm, I didn't want to barge in earlier, so I waited because… Well, uh, I'm here because… TheCaptainmighthavepassedout?" he blurted out, voice high and incomprehensible.

"I'm sorry what?" Rapunzel blinked.

"The Captain has, uh, passed out earlier-"

"Where is he?" she interrupted, her heart already beating too fast.

"Your bedroom, but, your Highness-"

Rapunzel didn't hear what he had to say, because she was already rushing through the castle. Her bedroom was so faraway, and Eugene had passed out - she knew he was pushing himself too hard, she should have known it would happen but no, she was so grateful for his help that she didn't even stop to think. What a good Princess she made, she thought bitterly, when she wasn't even able to make sure the love of her life got rest. Eugene had been right with everyone when Zhan Tiri used the decay incantation, and she knew that, even before this, he got kicked around by the mind controlled brotherhood. And yet, she had let him ignore his health - had let herself ignore his health. Rushing up the stairs, Rapunzel was cursing herself out for believing everything was fine with him, because what if- what if-

When she barged into her bedroom, she startled both a -thankfully- awake Eugene and his doctor, in the middle of what seemed to be an argument. Eugene was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking ready to get up any seconds, and the doctor seemed about to try and push him back.

Eugene was also shirtless, and the bruises littering his skin felt like they took the breath away from Rapunzel. She had seen them already, but Eugene had made sure that it was always in the middle of the night, where the darkness on his skin blended with the room quite easily.

"Princess!" the doctor exclaimed, once he regained his composure. "Please tell the Captain that he can't get up again."

"Sunshine," Eugene said, annoyance clear for everyone to see as he threw a death glare at the other man, "please tell the doctor that not only am I fine, but I also have a lot of work to do and I've already lost enough time as it is."

He glanced her way when she didn't answer, obviously looking for support, and she saw how his eyebrows immediately creased with concern at her appearance. She was still breathing heavily, one of her bandaged hand holding the other near her chest, and she knew her hair had been mussed up from the run here. She was a mess, and he- Eugene thought-

"Doctor," she said, ignoring Eugene for the time being, "what is wrong with Eugene?"

"Oh," he smiled awkwardly, pushing his glasses back, "well, the most concerning thing is that the Captain is running a fever-"

"-a low fever-"

"-that still made him pass out, so I'd say it's high enough," the doctor answered loudly, making Eugene frown. "He's also been ignoring my advice to rest. It's not as much of an advice as it is an order, considering that the effects of the incantation, his cracked ribs and the numerous hits his body sustained all need time before he can be recovered. Running around-"

"-helping people!"

"Even if it's to help, this is putting too much strain on your body, Captain," the doctor insisted, fully turned back towards Eugene. "The fever and the fainting spells are signs your body is sending to tell you that you need rest, if I were you, I would listen to them."

"I'm fine," Eugene laughed.

"For now. But your fever is already concerning enough, and if you don't rest now, your body will force you to."

"Come on-"

"Eugene," Rapunzel whispered, but it was enough to silence both of them. She had heard enough. She was still looking at him, at his torso covered in deep purple bruises and yellowing ones, at his still half-closed eyes and at the blush on his cheeks that she knew now was from a fever and - she knew it was enough. "Thank you, doctor," she said simply, "I'll take care of him now."

The dismissal couldn't be more obvious and, since seeing the Princess in anything but a good mood was enough to freak out every Coronans that knew her, the doctor didn't wait around more. Soon, it was only her and Eugene, both looking at the other silently. He opened his mouth, trying to come up with an explanation, or an excuse, or anything but, before he could talk, she walked in front of him and put her hand on his forehead.

He was burning up.

"Low fever, yeah right," she muttered. "How long have you been running it?"

"I- what do you mean?" Eugene grinned, before sighing under her gaze. "Two days, but it's nothing!"

"Noth-" Rapunzel stopped herself, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

She was stressed. She knew she was still annoyed by the meeting, and that trying to get everything back to normal these last few days had been exhausting, but Eugene didn't deserve to get yelled at because of it. He was only trying to help her, but he still hadn't understood that she couldn't- it wouldn't help her if he was sick. It wouldn't help her to worry about him every minutes she wasn't at his side, wondering if her mistake cost him his life again.

"Oh Sunshine no, I'm sorry," Eugene breathed, and Rapunzel realised that she was crying, holding on tightly to his shoulders as she blinked quickly. She didn't mean for her tears to fall, but it was all too much, and Eugene had passed out - he had been unconscious, because of a fever he was ignoring to be there for her, and all of this wouldn't have happened if only she had focused for a moment longer.

"I can't do this alone," she exhaled through her tears, lowering her head until it was resting on Eugene's. "This- This is so hard, and I'm trying to be strong but I can't-"

"You won't be alone," Eugene assured, pushing her hair away as helped her in his lap. "You'll have me, and your family, and all your friends-"

"But today, most of them are hurt, and I still have to be the Princess Corona needs."

"And you're doing wonderfully!" he exclaimed, and she lifted her head only to see the brilliant smile he was shooting her way. "I know it all feels like too much, but in barely a week, you've given everyone hope, and purpose, and- you're incredible, Sunshine. You are the Princess Corona needs."

He looked so convinced that Rapunzel had to chuckle tiredly. "Then, if I'm able to do such good work by myself, will you rest?"

Eugene grimaced, but she saw immediately that he wasn’t going to protest. He had backed himself into a corner. Which meant that she gently managed to force him into lying down fully on the bed, because "rest" was starting now. Once he was under the cover, she hesitated for a moment, before deciding that her trip in town could wait until the afternoon, and that she could sit at his side for the time being.

"I need to tell Henry that he has to act as Captain," Eugene thought aloud, shifting a little.

"I'll do it," she shushed him, "resting implies not thinking about work."

Eugene pouted, but Rapunzel started to stroke his hair and he didn't feel like being annoyed after that. Slowly, she twirled the strands with her fingers, knowing that these motions never failed to sooth him. That, his fever and his obvious exhaustion quickly got the better of him. One moment he was mumbling something incoherently, eyes nearly closed, and the next, he was snoring softly, finally looking peaceful and relaxed.

Rapunzel kept her hand in his hair anyway, looking down at him fondly. She had visited her parents and her hurt friends multiple times since everything had happened, and none of them had seemed able do more than one activity a day before falling back asleep. Adira and Hector had been exceptions, but Eugene had never even stopped moving since he got up that first time.

He was an idiot, and she was a little peeved that he would play with his health like this but… She loved him, for always being willing to go beyond everything for her.

She knew the life of a Princess wasn't easy, and that of a Queen even less so, but as long as she had Eugene at her side, she knew she would be fine.

#Tangled #Rapunzel #Eugene Fitzherbert #Cassandra #Tangled The Series #Plus Est En Vous #Rapunzel Appreciation Week

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allthatglittersisnotgoldrush · 3 years

Text

Author Interview: Victoryindeath2 (by TolkienGirl)

Thank you @thelonelybrilliance!

1. What fanfic trope do you think the AU has a unique spin on and why?

So seven card stud is the best and funniest strip poker/crossdressing fic you will ever find.

Definitely love how we grow the found family trope, particularly in regards to Maedhros and Gwindor, which I shall say more on in the question below. It is our own platonic version of the ships passing in the night trope—Maedhros and Gwindor are never mentioned as having met in canon, let alone spoken of in any way that might hint at their having any basis for friendship. I myself have never read any fics where there was any sort of bond between them. However, all of the authors love canon Gwindor greatly, and he fit so well into our plans and now has became more important and dear than we could ever imagine, so much so that I have to stop and remind myself that Maedhros and Gwindor are not brotp in canon. It’s honestly one of my favorite departures from the original Silm!

2. What are your three favorite friendships between people who are NOT related to each other?

My most FAVORITE friendship between unrelated characters is unquestionably the friendship between Maedhros and Gwindor. Maedhros gives Gwindor hope, freedom, and another little brother to love and guard, and Gwindor gives his Russandol the older brother he never had, good simple understanding without judgment, a care that doesn’t yield to Maedhros’s judgement of himself and fights against Maedhros’s frequent (understandable) self-pity and self-hatred. They could not have made it out of the thrall camp without each other, nor saved as many people as they did. Even now, Maedhros is one of the few solid good things Gwindor has to steady himself with as he tries to adjust to a world where he is not a slave, Maedhros is the person who turns Gwindor’s words back on him to say, you must think better of yourself! And Gwindor is now, as he was back in the thrall camp, the hand that Maedhros can bear to cling to when he is most hurt, frightened, and sad.

Ah...sometimes I like to dream about Gwindor getting to be an older brother figure to Mae back in Formenos and city days...the things that might have changed for the better...

There are many other good friendships but two in particular stand out: Finrod and Beren and Haleth and Luthien. Beren has lost his whole family and people, has suffered injury and been an outcast, thrown out of Doriath, separated from the young woman he loves, and here comes Finrod, some pretty boy from back East who has lots of noble ideas in his head, probably an awful lot of naivety at their meeting, but also a brave, loyal, laughing heart. So far we haven’t explored their friendship in as much detail as some relationships, but rest assured that....it will feature heavily in the future. I really hope that we can drop in little stories of their early friendship as we go along. For now, the fic Clarity has some of my favorite moments between them! I am very excited for the future with them!

As for Haleth and Luthien—well they are such contrasts aren’t they? Haleth, grim, younger than Luthien but more versed in the cruelty of the world, and Luthien, bright and eager to go out into the world and find Beren, unafraid for now of what it might have in store for her and her loved ones. They are both strong-willed, determined young women though, and I adore every moment between them. Haleth, always bringing what word she can of Beren to Luthien, protecting her secret, teaching her to fight, being slightly taken aback at the thought that yes, Luthien is her friend. And Luthien having nothing but respect for Haleth. The most recent fic between them was honestly the sweetest, cutest thing!

3. What is a “missing scene” that you wish could be written into the AU during the past year (1852)?

You know what I would want? A little scene between Fingolfin and Finrod, set after Maedhros has been rescued and Fingolfin is very tired and Finrod tries to tell him to go to bed or something and then Fingolfin confesses that he misses his brother Finarfin very much and then probably apologizes because of course Finrod must miss his father greatly and he shouldn’t have brought up the subject but Finrod is like, it’s okay, and then encourages Fingolfin to tell stories about their boyhood together, and it’s all sort of soft and sad and healing for the both of them <3

4. Which character has made you cry the most as a reader and/or writer?

As a reader? Ahahaha Maedhros wins by a long shot. I cried so many times during his Angband days, but also in fics both in Mithrim and Formenos, when he was younger and had no idea of what was in store for him. Shoutout to any soft scene between him and his brothers, particular him and Maglor. Give me them holding each other or playing with each other’s hair while being sad and I just—weep. I am not so good at regulating my emotions lol

As a writer, well, I don’t usually cry over my own works, but recently I got very emo when re-reading of the armature and the reinforcement (let us move lightly). It’s hard to see young happy recently-married Feanor and Nerdanel, with baby Maitimo on the way, and to know how Feanor will change and their family will fall apart in years to come. Also, I played myself by having the actor Lee Joon Gi in mind as a model for young Feanor’s mannerisms :/

5. Update us on the state of Caranthir’s kitchen and garden.

If this is a poorly concealed “where the heck is that fic you have been promising us,” well, I stick my tongue out at you.

Jk I’m gonna go work on it after I finish these questions lol. Let’s just say that with everything happening right now, Caranthir has probably been stress cleaning the kitchen, and it would be immaculate if it weren’t for certain people being difficult. As for the garden, if you think its crooked layout does not bother Caranthir at least once per day, you would be wrong. I’m sure that in a month or so he is going to want to dig the whole thing up and get out little stakes and strings and drive everyone crazy by being extremely particular about the makeover.

Bonus: Describe what would happen if Gwindor met Feanor

OH MAN OH MAN. GWINDOR WOULD FULFILL MY FANTASY OF GIVING THAT MAN A FIST TO THE FACE

I mean look I have this strange love for Feanor and he is tragic in many ways and I mourn his loss and the person he could have been and sometimes was, but also—

He was a terrible dad. As we have all seen. As Gwindor has sussed out and had some confirmation of. If the Gwindor of right now could go back in time and meet Feanor sticking needles into Mae, I’m pretty sure he would have murdered him then and there, or at least, beat him into the ground and then been like, hello Nerdanel, ma’am, I am your eldest son’s guardian angel in the flesh and I am moving in with you to be a barrier between him and his dad and if he so much as looks at Mae wrong I will throw him in his own forge fire.

If the Gwindor of right now could meet a resurrected Feanor—things would be bloody and Feanor would be told what for in the strongest of terms probably while being shoved against a wall, an arm against his neck, and then Gwindor would be like cool now that you understand just how terrible of a person you are and how you should probably burn in hellfire, you can go to Maedhros and beg his forgiveness and tell him how is a much better person that you ever were or could be and that it is up to him to ask you to stick around even though I, Gwindor, would prefer you to never see him again, but like, Maedhros probably wouldn’t want that so I will have to deal and you will have to shape up or I will ship you out

GET YOU A FRIEND LIKE GWINDOR

#author interviews #gold rush AU #the silmarillion #q&a #I talk a lot about Gwindor in this and that is right and just

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