#in service of making the plot move forward as necessary
Text
you know that post about how some fandoms are like a restaurant that only serves plain dry toast and all the customers brought their own jam and are happily eating there. i think that's kind of how i feel about the fourth aa game
#hornet's nest hornet's nest#the character dynamics in that game are borderline nonexistent#and pretty much everyone important becomes a total non-character midway through the game#in service of making the plot move forward as necessary#leaving the pacing of it feeling weird and breathless and hyperreal the whole time#bc no one is acting like a person and most characters' motivations are incomprehensible or constantly changing#the subtext of that game and what you can get out of interpreting it goes absolutely crazy#but like. none of what people like about it is actually in the text lmao#like klav polly and truce are all hypothetically insanely interesting and nuanced characters#unfortunately you don't really see any of that meaningfully onscreen#the few lines that imply a deeper connection between characters feel really out of nowhere and unearned imo#joshathan.txt#aa
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
We know Carol’s bracelet and Daryl’s double capper are far more than just gifts to each other. They symbolize the strength of their bond, but even beyond that, they reveal both characters’ headspaces at crucial times when the other is absent.
When we see Carol playing with her bracelet at Daryl’s camp, it’s easy to imagine her thinking of him, longing for his comfort, and regretting her actions that may have broken what they have between them.
When we see Daryl gently placing the double capper on his desk, then later staring at them, we can assume his relationship with Carol is precious to him and his loyalty to her is unbreakable.
TWD unfortunately misses a fair amount of opportunities to make the most of the objects it deliberately introduces. Leah’s knife is the first thing that comes to mind for me and while it isn’t impossible to rectify that, it feels like the time for it has passed much like the storyline that came and went with zero impact. Caryl’s gifts on the other hand seem more necessary than ever as they’re about to endure the most infuriating challenging separation of their journey.
Carol can’t be with Daryl in France which in itself defies the show’s own narrative logic, but one very simple way to preserve minimal integrity is to reveal Daryl has taken the double capper with him. This would reassure a very skeptical audience that Carol is in his heart, that he misses her, and that he wants to get back to her. And if/when he does reunite with her, she could wear the bracelet to let us know without having to take up time and space that she had kept him close to her the whole time too.
Sadly S11 has completely shattered my trust. Caryl’s story was almost entirely abandoned in service of a clumsy plot and I don’t expect much different from le spinoff. I fear it'll be treated like a trip to Vegas, not because I think Daryl will hook up with random dancers in the sexy nightclub, but because the story could be mostly irrelevant to the one outside of the setting and vice versa. Which to emphasize again, is why I can’t watch it. I‘ll only be there if/when Daryl and Carol become vital to each other’s stories again, finally moving forward with each other.
54 notes
·
View notes
Note
Writing wise, do you think junho is a good male lead? I saw lots of comments saying he needs more depth or needs a short arc lol what do you think?
hello anon! oh that's a very good question. the short answer is yes! the long answer is when it comes to him having his own arc i think it's important to remember that in eaw, youngwoo is the only real main character and although junho is the male lead he's not of the same importance as youngwoo, it's not his story, he's a secondary character. a lot of dramas that focus more on romance as the main relationship have a female lead and a male lead who are both as important to the plot and who both need to go on a journey for the plot to move forward and even for the plot to start (alchemy of souls which is currently airing is a good exemple of that, it is the story of mudeok and of jang uk, equally, and they depend on each other - other dramas like this are the king's affection and run on that also star park eun bin and kang tae oh) whereas in eaw, because it's a different genre, it is 100% youngwoo's story and junho happens to be a part of it. he's not "necessary" to the story, although he's a big part of it, in the sense that without him there would still be a story, a different one but it would still hold. so that means that his arc is to be in relation to hers (and he still has to confess, to tell minwoo he likes youngwoo etc so that's an emotional arc) and i think that's fine because none of the other secondary characters have their own arc, it's all linked to youngwoo. it's very clear when i watch the show that although all the characters have their own little particularities they're still meant to serve youngwoo's story, it's not a real ensemble show.
as for his characterisation it's true that we don't know a lot about him but i don't think it's a lack of depth and i don't need to know everything about him for the romance to be believable. i've got a few points to explain:
a) so far i don't think youngwoo knows that much more about him than we do and we mostly follow her - she likes him for who he is and how he is with her and she isn't really the kind to ask people questions about themselves at work (and it seems clear to me that junho is a bit shy about himself even if acts of service come easily to him)- i do hope that as they grow closer she will grow more curious about him because i think it's a necessary step in her journey to see her experience a new type of relationship and a new interest (and it would make a good parallel to when she told him she had nothing to talk to him about than whales - but they're not there yet so there's been no occasion for him to share details about himself - but also aside from whales i don't think she's told him a lot about her life and you don't need all the details about someone to like them) so until they spend more time together on things that aren't work (and i really hope that time grows quickly lol) we're not going to get much more
b) i don't think we're ever going to get nor do we need his entire backstory - what i really need is for him to tell youngwoo what he feels and what he wants and to talk about what they are to each other because i do think it's important for their relationship to feel balanced and equal and also because if conflict/tension happen between them i think it's more likely to be because they have different expectations or ways of dealing with things if that makes sense? and it's talking with youngwoo about themselves and spending time with her that's what will give him depth in our eyes like it will in youngwoo's - and we still have 8 episodes left to do that so hopefully the writers also consider it as an essential step lol
c) compared to the other characters you can already tell that junho is a little more special, i haven't rewatched all the episodes but i'm pretty sure junho is the only secondary character we've seen outside of work without youngwoo (i mean we've seen minwoo with him but that's just because they're roomates, we never see anyone else than junho on their own) yes all his scenes are linked to youngwoo but it's already a big difference. for exemple we don't see sooyeon outside of work and aside from the fact that her father is in law too we don't know much about her but it doesn't stop me from appreciating her friendship with youngwoo because her actions and her evolution are clear to me. we see more of geurami's private life because that's how she's connected to youngwoo so that kind of makes her an exception.
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Create Problems Not Solutions
The Perils of Solution Based Plot:
It’s three and a half hours into a game and you’ve spent the last 90 minutes on a puzzle that you thought it would take the players fifteen minutes to figure out the solution to. Have you had this experience? Or perhaps, you set up an encounter on the base floor of a dungeon where players were supposed to unlock a trapdoor while being on the lookout for wandering monsters. You had planned this big set piece, but your players want to bypass it by blowing up the locked door, rather than messing around with the lock. What do you do? Do you just tell them “that won’t work”? Do you set an absurdly high dice check so that you know they’ll fail and get back to what you wanted the party to do? How do we handle plot as it relates to obstacles?
I would contend that these issues come up because of mistakes we, as GMs, make in prepping for our game. We have decided on a route our group has to take. On a grand scale this looks like saying “the party must get the Eye of Wrengar to stop the evil Lich Farenthar.” On a more granular level it looks like “Once the party has boarded the enemy ship they will come across a computerized locking mechanism that they will need to hack.” Then, we’re caught off guard when they say “Fuck the Eye of Wrengar” or “What if we went through the ship’s vents to catch the captain unawares?”
Our mistake is that we have created plots based around solutions. We’re giving the players obstacles with prescribed ways to solve them in order to move the narrative forward. Then, when our players think differently than we do, we stonewall them- “The computerized locking mechanism extends into the vents, if you want to use the vents you’ll have to hack the locking mechanism.” or we make sure all roads lead where we need them to plot wise- “Your ally, the Troll King, has commissioned a replica of the Eye of Wrengar, but you’ll need to go into this dungeon to grab a gem that can hold the arcane power necessary for it to work” and neither option feels narratively satisfying!
The Solution to Solution Based Plot:
So, what’s our alternative to solution based plot? I think anyone who has played or read a Powered by the Apocalypse game (a game based on the engine created by Vincent Baker for Apocalypse World) has heard the phrase Play to Find Out What Happens. Playing to find out what happens is a part of the GM’s agenda in Apocalypse World and any other PBTA game I have ever played has included it as well. For it to be a part of the GM’s agenda, it means that it is a goal for the GM. According to Baker everything you say should be in service to playing to find out what happens (along with two other points of the GM agenda we’re not going to get into here). This is not GMing advice, or a suggestion. In Apocalypse World playing to find out what happens is a rule. When you don’t engage with that, you are stepping outside the bounds of the game as written.
So, we know playing to find out what happens is important, but what the hell does it mean? Here’s a quote from Apocalypse World 2e that explicitly describes what it means to play to find out what happens.
“Play to find out: there’s a certain discipline you need in order to MC Apocalypse World. You have to commit yourself to the game’s fiction’s own internal logic and causality, driven by the players’ characters. You have to open yourself to caring what happens, but when it comes time to say what happens, you have to set what you hope for aside.” (Apocalypse World 2e, pg. 80)
So, why do this? I think it offers a few different benefits. One, you are no longer the sole arbiter for how a problem can be solved which means your players don’t need to download your brain in order to find the specific resolution that you have set forward which will make your narratives flow smoother. Secondly, player input becomes much more important when they can actually contribute to overcoming an obstacle in a creative fashion, rather than trying to find the right combination of words that will satisfy their GM. Finally (and perhaps most importantly to me) GMs can now be surprised by the way the narrative goes! What you thought would be an obstacle overcome by technical expertise has instead become a stealth encounter! How will the players overcome the Dread Lord Farenthar without this artifact? Can they think of or design something else? How will the world continue to slip into entropy? Let’s play to find out what happens!
What This Looks Like At The Table:
So now, we have the theory, but what does playing to find out what happens look like practically? Let’s start with how we prep our obstacles when we move away from solution based prep. Instead of prepping solutions, I prep alongside the lines of John Harper’s Opportunities as described in Blades in the Dark on page 189. An opportunity consists of the following:
A target
A location
A situation
One obvious vector for a plan
So, let’s take the Stars Without Number game I’m running as an example. The players have taken on a bounty to hunt down a dangerous psychic. That’s our target, feral psychic Pran “Hex” Almier. Our location is where she is currently at- the planet Inonar. Our situation? Hex is currently in the midst of an assassination spree, taking out her former professors that work at the psychic academy.
Now, the obvious vector for a plan is where this gets interesting. This is where you are thinking about what most logically comes up for you as the GM. Then you offer it up to the players with a drawback or cost. They don’t need to spend hours trying to figure out your solution, you offer it to them upfront. For my Stars Without Number game it looked like this: “Hex is currently holding a couple of news anchors hostage, live and on-air demanding that her last professor be brought to her so she can execute him, or else. You could probably storm the gates of this TV station, but it's not likely that the news anchors would make it out alive. What do you do?”
Offering up an obvious solution with a cost allows for players to bypass trying to guess what’s going on in your head, while also encouraging them to think about more optimal solutions that perhaps you haven’t even imagined. If they put in the legwork to uncover even more information you could give them some of the following:
Connected factions: Maybe your players learn that the psychic academy is really a front for psychic experimentation and research put up by a clandestine arm of the Imperial government. “They’d love to keep that secret, and perhaps would pay extra credits to hush you up, or maybe you’ll sell that information to the resistance coalition being put together! Any ideas on what you want to do next?”
A Not-So-Obvious Vector for a Plan: “While you're studying Hex’s history and dossier, you notice that her family once owned a shitty run-down apartment complex on a neighboring planet. Perhaps that’s where she hides out in between killings? What do you want to do with that information”
Interesting Secrets that Link to Alternate Opportunities: “You learn from your imperial liaison that if you capture Hex alive, the Empire is likely to send her to the prison planet Anagris. Hey Petey, isn’t your friend Rory being held there? Maybe Hex could help out as a person on the inside… What do you wanna do?”
You can already see how this kind of prep gives multiple avenues for achieving something, or even turns what it means to achieve something upside down. This kind of prep encourages players to think more intently about opportunities and how they can be leveraged to their advantage narratively and mechanically. Notice that at the end of each of the pieces of dialogue I’m asking the players what they want to do. This question serves to put the impetus for solution and action on the players, rather than on me as the GM. This can also change how you frame obstacles in the moment to moment of play. Rather than telling a player “So, the mountain face your climbing crumbles as the dragon lands on it, causing a rockslide. I need you to make a dex save to determine whether or not you are able to hold on through the turmoil”, you can instead say “Okay, the mountain is crumbling around you and you can feel your grip begin to slip, you can attempt to hold on but if it goes poorly you’ll probably take some serious damage, what do you do?” It's a small change, but it puts the player in the driver’s seat of overcoming obstacles, rather than you as the GM. The players could very well decide that they want to try to white knuckle it through the rockslide, or they might decide they want to swing into a cavern below, or pull out their ring of flight.
I invite you to try this method of opportunity preparation and reframing how you present obstacles at the table. Maybe try giving your solution with a cost, and amongst a variety of other options for resolution, rather than waiting for players to stumble upon the one golden solution.
Questions for Consideration:
How does the way I prepare my obstacles influence problem solving at the table?
How can I give my players more agency and what do I gain or lose by doing that?
How might using Opportunities as described above supplement my GMing toolset?
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reliaable Developers: How to Choose the Right Plot Developer for Your Project?
Embarking on a real estate project is a significant endeavour that requires careful consideration and strategic decision-making. One of the pivotal choices you'll make is selecting the right plot developer to bring your vision to life. In this blog, we'll explore essential factors to help you make an informed decision, with a special focus on Reliaable Developers.
Research and Reputation:
Start by digging deep into prospective plot developers. Focus on their standing in the business. Reliaable Developers, for example, are recognized for their rock-solid commitment to quality and customer satisfaction. Checking out Reliaable Developers reviews can give useful input from past clients, assisting you in assessing their reputation right.
Project Portfolio:
Examine the plot developer's portfolio to understand the scope and diversity of their projects. A developer with a varied portfolio showcases versatility and expertise across different types of developments. Reliaable Developers, known for its wide array of successful projects, may offer the diversity you seek for your own venture.
Legal Compliance:
Ensuring that the plot developer adheres to legal norms and regulations is imperative. Check their licenses and certificates, and if they follow local building codes. A reputable developer like Reliaable Developers have a clean track record in legal compliance, and all their plots are BDA-approved. This means that their developments meet the standards set by the Bangalore Development Authority, ensuring that all necessary legal requirements are met. This gives peace of mind as you move forward with your project.
Financial Stability:
Assess the plot developer's financial health to lower the chances of future issues or delays in your project. A financially secure developer can handle unexpected problems and keep your project moving smoothly.
Transparency and Communication:
Effective communication is key to the success of any real estate project. Opt for a plot developer that values transparency and maintains open lines of communication. Reliaable Developers, with its commitment to client satisfaction, prioritizes transparent communication, providing you with updates and addressing concerns promptly.
Quality of Project:
Check the developer’s dedication to high-quality standards. Look over finished projects and confirm that the developer adheres to top industry practices. You might find that Reliaable Developers, known for focusing on quality, matches your criteria for a well-built plot.
Customer Support and After-Sales Service:
Look for a plot developer that gives excellent customer support and after-sales service. Evaluate the developer's responsiveness to queries, willingness to address concerns, and commitment to customer satisfaction. Reliaable Developers reviews can shed light on their customer-centric approach and support services.
Budget and Cost Transparency:
It's necessary to understand both your budget and how the developer prices their services. Trustworthy plot developers are open about their costs, keeping surprises out of the equation. They could be an excellent fit for your project, especially if keeping a handle on the budget is a top concern.
Conclusion:
Choosing the right plot developer is pivotal for a successful property venture. By considering factors such as reputation, project portfolio, legal compliance, financial stability, communication, customer support, and budget transparency, you can make an informed decision. Looking at Reliaable Developers, their broad experience, BDA-approved plots, and client-focused way of working show they are a strong choice for those looking for a skilled plot planner. Always conduct thorough research and go through Reliaable Developers reviews to validate their suitability for your specific project requirements.
#Reliaable developers#Reliaable developers reviews#reliaable developers plots#reliaable developers ecity#reliaable developers bangalore reviews#reliaable developers bangalore#BDA Plots near me#BDA Plotted development#reliaable developer projects#bda plots for sale in bangalore#BDA Plots bangalore#Reliaable developers Projects
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chocolate Coated Elevation: The Stoney Plot Way.
Because the trend of weed legalization continues across the world, a range of services are hitting the market, allowing people to have marijuana in impressive ways. One of the multitude alternatives, one item stands out equally because of its playful personalisation and their palatability: the Stoney Patch gummies. A Special Development The real history of edibles is as previous as the usage of pot itself. Traditional preparations in several countries have included cannabis-laden foods and products for both medicinal and recreational purposes. Quickly forward to the 21st century, and we start to see the evolution with this exercise with products like the Stoney Area gummies, which offer a special and tasty method of eating THC. What Makes Stoney Spot Unique? Drawing inspiration from the much-loved Sour Spot Young ones candy, Stoney Spot gummies provide a similar taste profile with the included pose of THC. They mix the sweet and bad styles several like with the consequences of weed, making a solution that interests both the palate and the desire for relaxation. Dose and Consequences For anyone new to edibles, it's necessary to realize that consuming THC in this format may result in a more efficient and extended influence in comparison to inhalation. This is due to the way THC is metabolized when ingested. With Stoney Patch, much like all edibles, it's critical to start with a minimal amount and wait to comprehend their influence fully before contemplating consuming more. stoney patch The Potential of Cannabis Edibles The increase of products and services like Stoney Plot signifies a change in the marijuana business toward more user-friendly and mainstream-friendly products. As the industry continues to evolve and develop, we are able to expect to see even more innovative methods to integrate pot in to everyday life, moving beyond the stereotype of smoking and in to diverse paths like gastronomy, wellness, and more. Conclusion Whether you're a professional pot customer or even a interested novice, Stoney Area supplies a special way to experience the world of THC-infused edibles. As generally, guarantee you're eating reliably, knowledge your dosages, and sticking with local regulations.
0 notes
Text
2,500 words of the Moshang Forced Marriage AU, in which the PIDW plot is turned off and Tianlang-Jun doesn’t fall, but this only causes even more problems for Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua. Written on my phone.
-
Shang Qinghua stumbled back into his leisure house with a jar of Zui Xian Peak’s best light wine in one hand and a sack of Qian Cao Peak’s tastiest specialty melon seeds in the other. He kicked the door closed, kicked off his shoes, and then kicked back for some quality lounging.
“Ahhh, now this is more like it!” he declared, wiggling into the cushions worthy of a head disciple’s house. “It’s all shoving off my chores onto other people from here on out! Having flatcakes on order with a snap of my fingers! Making some other poor bastard deal with Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge - at each other’s throats even at Yue-Shixiong’s nice dinner to celebrate our future ascension, eugh. I’ve really earned this! I’ve suffered enough!”
He dropped the sack of seeds onto the side table and fiddled with the wine, embarrassingly clumsy despite the fact that he was sober. As always, he’d been much too chicken-shit to really indulge around other people. He needed his fast reflexes for ducking and running away when he was out and about! Plus, people would freak the fuck out if a transmigrator started running his mouth, giving everyone existential issues and shit, so him waiting until he was alone to drink was really more of a societal service here than sad.
The Transmigration System had also been a concern before, but not anymore!
Shang Qinghua raised his jar and laughingly declared, “The plot is dead! Long live the free author! Ah, this toast is a little late, but better late than never, huh?”
At long last, this transmigrator had managed to get into the Transmigration System’s settings and turn off the plot! It had honestly been a little infuriating just how easy it had been, once he’d hit on the right combination of things to open the right settings menu. There may or may not have been a lot of outraged shrieking and frustrated crying, after all the sweat, blood, and tears he’d shed to become the head disciple of An Ding Peak. All Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had needed to do, in the end, was flick a few buttons from “on” to “off”. Outrageous.
“No more missions! No more restrictions! And no more bad endings for anyone! Ah, at least for everyone besides Huan Hua Palace Sect’s old master, that is… but, heh heh, I really think that I and the new Empress Su Xiyan can live with that,” Shang Qinghua muttered, then took a drink, wiggling deeper into his lounging and feeling very good about himself.
He felt as free as a bird! As free as the wind! Why shouldn't he celebrate his newfound freedom and future as a Cang Qiong Peak Lord by doing a little bit of nothing at all?
Shang Qinghua shamelessly did his best to become a lump. As he toasted to the distant happy couple and the bouncy baby protagonist on his way, with wine and melon seeds both, he removed all but one layer of clothing, tossed his belt and his jewelry on top of the pile, and yanked everything out of his hair. He slid from a sitting position to a totally horizontal one without realizing how it had happened, then he let heavy eyes fall closed with the knowledge that everything was going to be so much better now.
A person knew things were good when they could fall asleep just like this.
Then a burst of cold air startled him into looking up at a shadowy figure stepping out of nowhere above him. Shang Qinghua shrieked with terror.
"SHUT UP!” the shadow snarled. “Get up!”
“What- my king?!”
Mobei-Jun didn’t wait and grabbed Shang Qinghua by the front of his robes, hauling him to his feet. The wine sloshed against the floor and the melon seeds scattered around them. Shang Qinghua yelped, choked, and then wheezed and flailed, and then yelped again as his loose robes got a little looser with the rough handling and he slipped in Mobei-Jun's grip.
"What- get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped, and then dragged him into the bedroom right away.
"The sight of my naked chest offends you this much, bro?!" Shang Qinghua thought, stumbling along. "There's not enough room in this house for two tits-out outfits?! What the fuck is going on?!"
Mobei-Jun threw Shang Qinghua towards the dresser. He just barely managed to catch himself, taking a hard wooden edge to the gut and stubbing his toe on its base, instead of falling and concussing himself at least. Shit! It still hurt, though!
"Get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped again, pointing at the dresser for emphasis. "Now!"
"Right away! Right away, my king!" With shaking hands, his heart thundering in his ears, Shang Qinghua pulled out the first set of robes his fingers touched.
"Not those!"
"Aah!"
Shang Qinghua dropped the robes onto the floor. They were the regular everyday robes of an An Ding Peak disciple, plain and sturdy, something that the demon had seen him in many times before.
"Wh- what's wrong with th-these?"
"Too plain!" Mobei-Jun barked, and stalked forward to shove Shang Qinghua aside and go through the dresser himself.
Shang Qinghua stumbled away and took shelter near his bed, quickly retying his current robes to prevent another fucking nip-slip or worse. He watched with wide eyes as Mobei-Jun threw his clothing to the floor as not good enough. The next drawer was yanked open with so much strength that it splintered and tilted crookedly to one side.
"My king, why-?! What's happening?! Are- are we going somewhere?! Who does this servant have to impress?!"
Mobei-Jun finished throwing aside everything in this drawer and tried to shove it back in, but it was too broken to be moved. The demon snarled, yanked the entire drawer from the dresser with another terrible splintering sound, and threw the drawer out of his way. It hit Shang Qinghua in the chest and sent him sprawling back onto his bed.
He lay there and wheezed without shoving it away, just feeling the impact rattle through his ribs. He heard another drawer splinter.
"Ah, so this is how I die?" he thought. "Just as expected: with a bang AND a whimper."
He pushed the drawer to one side and sat up, only to be smacked in the face with the robes thrown at him. They were the nicest robes he owned. The An Ding Peak Lord had ordered them for him for the coming ascension of a new generation of Peak Lords, so they had all sorts of fancy embroidery and several heavy layers, which meant Shang Qinghua fell back against the bed again under their weight when they hit his head. He sat up again and then gawked at these robes he had never worn and wasn't supposed to wear yet-
"Tianlang-Jun."
"Aha, what?" Shang Qinghua looked at the demon lord scowling at him. "My king…? What about Tianlang-Jun…? This- no. What?! My king, you can't mean to take this servant before the Demon Emperor, that would be ridic-"
"Get dressed," Mobei-Jun snapped.
"It's not Tianlang-Jun, right? Why-?! What's really going on here? Are we going somewhere? Are we meeting someone?"
Shang Qinghua got to his feet, but he didn't dare put the fancy robes on, like being nearly naked would save him from being dragged off anywhere else. No amount of nice clothing would ever make the likes of this displaced author impressive to the likes of the OP Demon Emperor, finally sitting on his late sister's throne.
"This servant can't serve his king to the best of his abilities unless he knows what the-"
"My father is dead!"
“...Wh… what?”
Mobei-Jun’s expression was like a thunderstorm. Shadows curled around his clenched fists, as light and heat fled this room that was suddenly even smaller than Shang Qinghua remembered it being.
"My father…" Mobei-Jun repeated, slowly, daring Shang Qinghua not to understand a second time. "...is dead."
Shang Qinghua stared in horror, the robes slipping out of his hands, which itched to count all the years that had just been skipped even though he knew he didn't have enough fingers. Thirty years or so? Definitely more than twenty. His breath came out in a trembling fog as he demanded:
"H-how?!"
"Tianlang-Jun," Mobei-Jun said again, through gritted teeth.
Good point! Good point! Who the fuck else could it be? The real question was why the fuck?! And also what the fuck was Shang Qinghua of all people supposed to do about clashes between OP demon lords?!
Mobei-Jun advances on Shang Qinghua, the shadows in his fists writhing like he's strangling them. "Tianlang-Jun took offense to some of my clan's foolish disrespect towards his human Empress and he made an example of my father. He has threatened to destroy the body unless a suitable gesture is made."
"But… the power of your ancestors…"
Mobei-Jun, looming over him, shoved him down to his knees to pick up the robes he had dropped, and snarled: "Get dressed."
Shang Qinghua snatched up the robes and skittered away to dress himself up for the slaughter. His heart was racing fast, but his mind seemed to be going even faster, almost too fast to actually think and also do things like make sure clothes weren't inside-out as he put them on.
The power of the Mobei clan rested in the ascension ritual in which the new king "consumed" the body of the old king. Spiritually and… er… possibly also physically? Shang Qinghua had no idea if the System had picked up on those implications or not. Anyway, if Mobei-Jun's father's body was destroyed, then he wouldn't receive that power-up necessary to enforce his rule, which would make him the target of every ambitious cousin and every greedy neighbor. The Mobei clan would probably fall into civil war and the rest of the northern kingdoms would follow them into bloody battle.
Shang Qinghua's favorite character, currently glaring at him for the fancy clothes probably making him look even less fancy by comparison, was sure to die. Mobei-Jun's shitty uncle had probably already picked the poisoned knife with which to stab him in the back.
"My king… what… what gesture is being made here…? This servant… this servant really needs to know how he's supposed to be of service…"
Shang Qinghua also needed to know whether or not he needed to take the first available window to run away. He definitely wasn't above leaping out of literal windows. If Mobei-Jun intended on hanging him over to Tianlang-Jun as a human sacrifice or some shit, then promises of loyalty might expire a lot sooner than originally planned!
At the question, Mobei-Jun's expression only darkened and the room darkened again with it. The cold seemed to spread from Shang Qinghua's skin deep into his twisting chest.
"Marriage," Mobei-Jun said, again through gritted teeth. "Tianlang-Jun has suggested marriage to a human as a worthy gesture."
"M-marriage?"
Mobei-Jun looked so fucking murderous that Shang Qinghua knew he hadn't misheard. He had to have misheard, though, because this was absurd.
"Marriage betw-between me and- and…?"
"Yes."
"And… you?"
"Yes."
Shang Qinghua should have been given an award for not fainting dead away. The System should have given him a million points for every second he managed to stay conscious, except… the System had essentially been turned off. No more points. No more plot.
No more Proud Immortal Demon Way plot, at least.
Ah, was this some kind of warped vacuum effect? A new plot come to take its place?
"There will be great riches."
Shang Qinghua refocused on the demon glaring at him. Riches?! What the fuck did riches have to do with anything right now?!
"Mobei Clan is the second strongest in the Demon Realm," Mobei-Jun informed him, but the demon was kind of scowling like he resented this now, instead of bragging. "You would not have to work again."
It was a really fucking weird day when being told that his Dream Guy wanted him and that he'd never had to work again was somehow bad news. It almost sounded like Mobei-Jun was… was… trying to persuade Shang Qinghua to marry him by offering wealth, power, and a life of indolence. All things that would tempt most people! Especially blindly greedy, thigh-hugging sect traitors like his character!
"Did… did Tianlang-Jun tell you… to just pick any human?" Shang Qinghua asked faintly. "There weren't… there weren't any requirements…?"
Clearly Mobei-Jun didn't want to be tied to Shang Qinghua of all humans!
"He asked - laughingly - if none of us knew any humans. I said that I did."
Okay, Shang Qinghua fully believed that Mobei-Jun didn't know any other humans. Mobei-Jun was on a deadline and didn't have time to go find the most acclaimed matchmaker or anything. By default, Shang Qinghua was the best, most handsome, most skillful, most wellborn, most desirable, and altogether most marriageable human Mobei-Jun knew - and he was not feeling super fucking thrilled by this victory.
"What… what did my king say about me..? What is the Demon Emperor expecting?" Shang Qinghua could only hope expectations had been set on the floor, preferably into the floor or maybe even underground.
"A disciple of Cang Qiong in my service."
"Oh…"
"Fix your robes."
"What? Oh, shit. Right away!"
Shang Qinghua didn't have a lot of experience wearing robes this nice and Mobei-Jun barking at him to look less like shit wasn't helping. The fact that he was sweating from nerves and his fingers were still shaking a little also wasn't helping. He skittered around to add tasteful ornaments and jewelry, some of which got violently rejected by Mobei-Jun as too ugly to show anyone, but looking down at himself, he mostly just felt like he was throwing shiny gold onto a pile of crap. How could this really fool anyone?
"My king, what… what am I supposed to say to the Demon Emperor? Do you want me to lie? To the Demon Emperor?!"
"Do not speak unless spoken to."
Sure, Shang Qinghua could do that, but was he really supposed to leave the talking to Mobei-Jun?! To Mobei-Jun?! The protagonist's right-hand man had not been known for his silver tongue! Did he think people weren't going to have questions? Like, "How the fuck do you know some random human?" Or, "Holy shit, you're really going to marry THAT one?"
"Isn't… my king, isn't Tianlang-Jun well known for his interest in humans and human stories… though...?"
Love stories! Shang Qinghua was pretty sure that the man loved a good love story! How the fuck were he and Mobei-Jun supposed to pull off a love story? And make it a love story compelling enough to convince a pissed-off Tianlang-Jun to grant the Mobei Clan mercy? Shang Qinghua wasn’t totally sure he was going to be able to do anything besides break down sobbing and curl up into a pathetic ball on the floor.
Mobei-Jun's face twisted slightly, in the way of an angry demon who didn't want to admit that his lowly human servant actually had a super great point. Tianlang-Jun had already proven himself a man who liked to play with his food a little.
"Do not tell some story," Mobei-Jun snarled finally. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not lie."
"Of course! Of course! Very wise not to lie to him!” Shang Qinghua told himself to focus on the logistics here; he was the logistics man; it was what he did. If he just kept focusing on the details, he didn’t have to think about the bigger picture. “This servant will remain silent until called upon, which… when… my king, when will that be? Tomorrow morning? I have to tell-"
"Now."
"-my martial sib- what?!"
"Now," Mobei-Jun repeated. "He is waiting."
399 notes
·
View notes
Text
Safe Haven: tftaws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Eleven (final chapter)
chapter ten - Chapter Eleven: Safe Haven
Series Masterlist
Plot: Y/n and Bucky enjoy their time off in Brooklyn and make decisions about their future.
Warnings: FLUFF, very little angst for once, talk of torture, reference to suicide, open ended plot twist that I'm not sorry for...all the fluff, seriously...
Word Count: 7.3k
A/N: Here we are...part of the journey is the end, and we've arrived. Even though there's another a/n at the bottom (with an important announcement so don't tap out too soon) I want to iterate just how thankful I am for the response I got on this series. I had the most amazing time writing it and loved getting to meet and connect with so many of you through it. ENJOY!!
----
It had taken all the strength Bucky had in his soul to knock three times on Yori’s door. He didn’t know what reserve he had had to tap into to actually make his long-hidden confession but once the words had fallen from his lips, he felt both freed and all the more burdened. Watching his friend’s eyes become overtaken by heartbreak, the desperate, confused utterance of ‘why…?’ By the end, Yori wouldn’t even look at Bucky. Bucky didn’t blame him, he was surprised that the man wasn’t yelling him out of his apartment. Instead, he calmly told Bucky to leave, surely holding back the majority of his emotions until he was by himself. The door shut on their friendship and Bucky was by himself on the other side of the door once again, drawing the shaky breath he’d held while he was inside Yori’s place. Out of every person he’d gone to see, every heart he’d had to crush, this one had hurt the most. In the dauntingly long hallway, his eyes sought out the gift the universe had given him, so undeservingly.
His guiding light.
Bathed in the blue light that flooded through the dirty windows of the aged building, Y/n stared down at her feet as she paced. For as open as they’d become with one another, Bucky found himself unable to ask her to accompany him to his last opportunity to make amends. The two of them had become so skilled at reading each other that with one look in his saddened eyes, Y/n had squeezed her phone into the pocket of her jeans and stood by the door waiting for him to ready himself. Bucky was starting to make peace with his past, but he still didn’t know what he had done in his wretched life to have such an angel in his life.
“Hey,” she greeted soothingly, turning to face Bucky as he approached her, “How’d it go?”
Bucky wasn’t ready to speak yet, he wasn’t even sure how he could describe what had just transpired. He simply sighed and allowed Y/n to wrap him in her arms in the embrace that was quickly becoming his favorite place to be.
——
As I woke with a groan, stretching my arms over my head, I was immediately aware that one side of the bed was cold. I blindly reached a hand over and felt around for Bucky’s missing body, sitting up when my search was unsuccessful. I blearily scanned the bedroom, our suits laying in a pile that had been kicked to the corner of the desolately furnished room. The few articles of clothing I had gone to the nearest department store and purchased for my impromptu stay in New York still lay folded on top of Bucky’s dresser. It didn’t dawn on me until that moment that I was beginning to spread across Bucky’s apartment without even trying.
It had been four days since the Flag Smasher’s final stand and while the world may have been spinning, mine had never been more steady. Bucky and I hadn’t left his apartment for more than running necessary errands. Other than that we’d spent the time enjoying our slice of domestic heaven learning about one another. I had discovered that Bucky was a good cook but only when it came to breakfast food. He had found out that I needed to sleep with the windows opened slightly for background noise. I had learned that his Spotify consisted strictly of music from the ’40’s and nothing else, contrary to what he’d told Sam about diving into Marvin Gaye’s discography. He’d learned that I got cold easily which led to both me stealing his hoodies and being on the receiving end of many bear hugs. We could tell what the other would do in combat or how they’d handle a concerning matter, but it was finding out the little things about James Buchanan Barnes that made me fall a little bit harder for him with each revelation.
The unlocking and opening of the door followed by quiet footsteps alerted me to his presence. I heard a few muffled noises before the floorboards outside the bedroom creaked, the door opening directly after. Bucky was careful and nearly silent as he came into the room until he saw that my eyes were open. We shared a lazy smile as he approached the bed.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked.
I shook my head in reply, he came to kneel at my side of the bed and pulled the hand he’d hidden behind his back out revealing a bouquet of daisies. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter,” I chuckled, reaching out to grab the bouquet, “I don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers.”
“That’s a crime,” Bucky said as he stood up, shedding his leather jacket as he walked around the bed, “In my time, you always brought a girl flowers on the first date. It was just what you did.”
“I guess we can consider my little extended stay a first date,” I dipped my nose down to smell the flowers, “Although I’m pretty sure in your time you wouldn’t allow a girl into your bed so soon.”
Bucky snickered to himself, “A gentleman would never let a lady sleep on the floor. And selfishly,” he tugged his second layer, a grey long sleeved shirt off over his head, and looked down on me lovingly, “I sleep better with you here.”
It was true. He’d told me how he’d only used the bed once since he’d moved in, having slept on the floor instead. I was familiar with the phenomenon, Sam had gone through the same thing when he’d returned from the service. I’d told him that if he had a nightmare and needed to move out to his living room, I’d join him with no hesitations. Shockingly, it hadn’t happened yet and we’d slept in a peaceful tangle of limbs each night that I’d been with him.
Kicking off his boots, he slipped under the duvet and sat up against the headboard, looking over at me and patting his jean clad thigh. I set the flowers down and crawled over to him, sinking down onto his lap and sliding my hands around his neck.
“I like this,” he complimented me with a smirk, tugging at the material of his henley that I was wearing, “Looks better on you than it ever would on me.”
“Clearly you’ve never seen you,” I scoffed, I’d also learned that the man had no idea just how attractive he was, “What were you off doing?”
“Grocery store,” Bucky answered, gesturing to the sidelined bouquet, “Florist. Dr. Raynor’s office…”
“Oh, I didn’t know you had a session this morning.”
Bucky took a deep breath, his hands firmly secured around my waist and his thumbs rubbing at my hips. “I didn’t,” he answered, “I, uh, I crossed off all the names in my book. Thought I’d drop by and let her know.”
I gave a breathy laugh, “All of them?”
He nodded, “All of them.”
Surprised and proud, I placed my hands on his cheeks and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I never doubted you for a second” I said softly, our lips almost touching, “I’m proud of you.”
Bucky gave a small smile, not yet ready to take as much pride as I could in his recovery. I could tell that he was lighter, while his personality was silent and stoic there wasn’t as much sadness lurking beneath it. To those who knew him, the difference in his behavior was visible. The days that I’d been in New York were the happiest I’d seen Bucky since I’d known him.
“So…” I sighed, my hands sliding down to his shoulders, “No more therapy sessions, no more battles to be fought…What do we do now?”
The dreaded question that we’d been avoiding since we’d isolated ourselves from the outside world. There was no doubt as to whether or not I wanted to make it work between Bucky and I, but we hadn’t even discussed what “it” was. What should have unfolded over the course of a couple months had happened as a crash course over two weeks. I didn’t regret it, I just needed to know where Bucky’s head was at regarding our future.
“Look,” Bucky averted his gaze downwards, “I’m not…I haven’t done this in a long time and I can’t promise that I’m gonna be good at it. I can’t even promise that I’ll know what I’m doing some of the time. But,” he shyly raised his eyes to meet mine, “I want this. I want you.”
His earnestness was so genuine, I thought my heart might burst from the emotion in his ocean blue eyes. “Bucky, I don’t want perfect,” I said, “And I’m pretty sure that a 106 year old with a robotic arm and a girl who can fly using blue energy from inside her wouldn’t even know what to do with perfect,” I earned a single laugh out of him, “Whatever we have right now, that’s what I want. I want to fight with you by my side and make a difference in the world, then I want to come home with you and teach you to cook something other than pancakes.”
He furrowed his brow, “What do you got against my pancakes?”
“My point is,” I giggled, my hands drifting back up to each side of his neck, “I want you exactly as you are. I haven’t done this in a long time either, I thought that after my dad died I was too broken to ever let myself be happy like this and you know that I’m coming in with more baggage than before. You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing. But there’s nobody else I’d rather figure this out with than you.”
The long stare he gave me was reminiscent of the first moment we’d been alone together, standing before the 200 foot drop in Munich. It was the first moment I’d appreciated his beauty, maybe it was the first seed planted in what was now a full-blown relationship in the making. This time, instead of sassing me with those hardened, slightly amused eyes, he surged forward and kissed me, cradling the back of my head in his Vibranium palm. I returned the kiss with just as much fervor, gripping the tight blue t-shirt tightly in my fists. Unlike the kisses we’d shared at 1AM in the kitchen of my house, this one carried a different weight. It was a promise of a future. Movie nights introducing Bucky to the classics that he’d missed. Lazy mornings in bed turned passionate as our bodies surrendered to one another. Protecting each other on whatever battlefields we’d inevitably end up on. Frustrating fights over something we’d inevitably admit was stupid to argue over. Whispering soothing affirmations to help Bucky come down from a violent nightmare. I could taste it all, the good and the bad, in that one kiss and I wanted every bit of it.
“Two weeks…” I said after we’d parted, shaking my head in amazement and laughing, “That’s all it took.”
“Crazier things have happened,” Bucky reassured me with a smile, running his hands up and down my back, “My folks always said they knew in a week and they were together for almost forty years.”
I bushed my lips against his softly, basking in the euphoria of knowing that the two of us belonged wholly to one another. To think that I’d been willing to throw all of it away mere days ago, I was ready to deprive myself and Bucky of the love we’d craved all our lives. I thanked God that my resolve to stay away had weakened long enough to let Bucky in because now, wrapped in his strong arms with his lips begging for a deeper kiss, I knew that I had something truly spectacular in my hands.
“Well, since this is official,” Bucky said, a little breathless, “There’s something you should have.”
He took his hands off of my body and reached behind his neck, pulling off one of his dog tags. Understanding what he was doing and the significance of it, I moved my head to allow him to place the necklace over it, the cold metal of the ball chain settling against my neck. The tag fell between my breasts, I picked it up and read Bucky’s name, his service number, the name of his sister, their address and his birth place. He’d given me, a part of his future, a piece of his history.
“Bucky…” I whispered, not trusting my voice enough to come out steady.
“A lot of soldiers gave one of them to their girls before they shipped out,” he recalled, watching me examine the piece of metal, “At least I know if I ever do ship out anywhere, you’ll be with me.”
I bit my lip and smiled, looking up at him with misty eyes. When the first tear fell down my cheek, Bucky was quick to wipe it away and did so with a smile of his own. After all the pain we’d both suffered through in life, we were finally allowed tenderness. Our hearts were scarred, our bodies worn, but no amount of trauma could lay a hand on the way we felt about one another. There’d be many more fights, some with forces bigger than the ones we’d spent the last two weeks taking a stand against. But at the end of the day, I had Bucky, my safe haven to come back to.
“It’s getting late,” I observed after a few minutes of sweet silence, the morning hours were slipping away from us, “Are you hungry? I can make us something.”
“Yeah, but,” Bucky’s hands found my arms and he rubbed his palms against them, “Let’s stay here just a little while longer…”
A grin spread across my face, one that I was finding only Bucky could bring out in me. “Okay,” I replied, settling my face in the crook of his neck and resting against his chest, the only place I wanted to be.
——
A FEW DAYS LATER
“You ready, Barnes?”
“I’m ready.”
“This is the most dangerous mission we’re ever going to face.”
“I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle it.”
“Then why are you sweating?”
“I’m not…sweating.”
“Well, at least I know you’ll never lie to me. You suck at it,” I smirked just before smoothing out the shoulders of his jacket, “Follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”
Bucky blew out a breath, his cheeks loosing their puff as he exhaled, “Here goes nothing…”
I gave three sharp knocks on the door before entering, seeing the familiar face waiting in a chair by the window. “Hey, Mama…”
My mother smiled deeply at the sight of her daughter, alive before her. “Baby,” she whispered as she slowly rose to embrace me, “Oh, you’re here.”
“I’m here,” I smiled, trying to fight the tears threatening to fill my eyes. My mother had been my first call after the battle in New York, realizing that my face was flashing across every news channel in the country alongside Sam and Bucky. This was the first time I’d seen her since before I’d left Louisiana with Sam.
“And you brought someone?” she asked over my shoulder, pulling away to wipe her cheeks.
“I did,” I turned around and looped my arm through Bucky’s, who was looking vaguely nauseous, “Mom, this is James.”
Bucky stuck out his gloved hand towards my mother, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Y/l/n.”
“Wonderful to meet you too, James,” she responded, shaking his hand and looking over to me, “I’ve been waiting a long time for Y/n to bring somebody home.”
I forced a chuckle, “Thanks, Mom…”
“Well, I’m honored that I’m the one she chose,” Bucky beamed, his bright eyes seeking mine out.
“Well, sit down,” my mom gestured to the two free chairs in the room, “I want to hear all about how you two met.”
Bucky and I exchanged a nervous look as we pulled up our seats to join her by the window. How were you supposed to explain that you’d fallen for a 106 year old who just happened to have once been the world’s deadliest assassin? “Um…James is one of Sam’s friends from the military. He came with us to Munich and things just sort of,” I slipped my hand into one of Bucky’s that sat in his lap, “Happened from there.”
“We didn’t like each other much at first, but,” Bucky chimed in, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand, “She definitely snuck up on me.”
“Oh my,” she looked at me amusedly, “How’s Sam taking this? Has he threatened you yet, Bucky?”
“Yeah, I, uh, got a text from him the other day, and it read something like ‘I’ve got access to government weapons, don’t make me use them.’”
I covered my mouth and snorted as my mother got a good laugh herself, “You didn’t tell me that.”
Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips, Sam and him had been getting along swimmingly since his last visit to Louisiana. But no friendship could eclipse Sam’s overprotective nature when it came to his family, it was only a matter of time until Bucky was on the receiving end of its ugly side.
“Truth is,” Bucky turned his gaze to my mother while keeping a soft grip on my hand, I could feel his nerves radiating through his touch, “I’m crazy about your daughter, ma’am, I think she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
Mom sighed, an ear-to-ear grin painted across her face. It was the same one I’d seen when my sister had first brought her now husband home to meet us. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear that, James,” she replied, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you more.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” I questioned, “It’s been so long since the whole family was together.”
“I wish, but I’m a little too tired to make the trip there,” Mom answered, settling into her seat a little more, “You don’t need an old lady there slowing you down.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I gently pushed back, “But since Sam and I are back home for a while, we’ll make sure to bring everybody up one of the weekends.”
“I’d like that,” she smiled.
A phone buzzing interrupted the conversation, Bucky let go of my hand to reach into his jacket pocket. “It’s Sam, probably wants an ETA,” he announced, rising from his seat and looking between both me and my mother, “Sorry.”
Both of us shooed him out of the room to take the call, turning back to one another once he was gone with shining smiles. “Honey…”
“I know…” I tried to hold back a giddy laugh threatening to erupt.
“He seems wonderful…”
I shook my head, semi in disbelief that things had turned out the way they had. “You don’t even know the half of it, he’s just…I’m crazy about him.”
“That much is obvious,” Mom gestured to my face, “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked through that door. I’ve never seen you this happy. Just one thing…” I furrowed my brows as her smile turned to a knowing smirk, “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know who he is?”
I sighed, leaning forward in my seat and propping my elbows on my knees. “We weren't trying to hide it, he just doesn’t like to advertise it. Once people know, they usually can’t look past what he was. But, Mom, we’ve been glued at the hip for the last two weeks and I can promise you, what you’re seeing is what you’re getting. I wouldn’t be with him if I thought there was any chance he could hurt me. He saved my life and so many others last week...”
“Sweetie, you don’t have to try and sell me on him,” Mom said soothingly, reaching out to touch my knee, “I trust your judgement and I also know what happened to him, it was tragic. The fact that he has a second chance at his life makes me happy, especially since it’s with you. Watching the two of you, how at ease he is with you…And those eyes,” she stopped to chuckle, “The way he looks at you is something special, it’s something magical. The two of you fit.”
Eventually I would tell her the whole story of how Bucky and I came to be, but it was better saved for another day. If she only knew how challenging it had been to get to something so simple and how Bucky and I valued each other all the more for it. “He fought for me, Mama,” I said with tears brimming, letting out a laugh, “Literally and metaphorically. And I just couldn’t let him go, he’s everything I’ve wanted but what I thought I could never have.”
Mom placed a hand on my cheek, “You deserve him, my love. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve happiness.”
And for the first time, I believed her. I believed that through my suffering, I had played a small part in helping Bucky through his. We deserved something more than what had happened to us and we had found it in one another.
“Your father would be proud of you,” Mom said, her face flashing with a different emotion than joy for a brief second.
“I’m not sure about that…” I mumbled, dodging her eyes in favor of staring down at my hands, a different reaction than I’d ever had when talking about my father.
“Sweetie,” she coaxed me, tapping at my hands until I looked back up at her, “Do you…do you know something?”
My heartbeat started to quicken as I struggled to contain the information I was withholding from my mother. It was taking everything I had not to tell her that her husband had been a part of one of the cruelest organizations the world had ever seen. The pain must have reflected in my expression.
“Yeah,” she whispered, biting her lip and closing her eyes, “You know…”
“Mom?”
She sighed, sitting back in her chair and supporting her head in her hand. “I didn’t know anything about that part of your father’s life when I married him, he didn’t like to talk about his time in the ‘service’ and I never pushed it…It wasn’t until the night that he died, before he left the house, that he sat me down and confessed it all.”
“He…” I moved to the edge of my seat, “He told you?”
“Mmhmm,” she nodded, a distant look in her eyes like she was transported back in time to that very moment, “I didn’t know how to process any of it, how could I? This man who I’d shared my life with and he’d made his living off of inflicting pain on innocent people. Hours later, he was gone and any chance to delve deeper into it was gone too. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with everything, but I made it. You’re free to draw your own conclusions, Y/n, I’m not telling you how to feel. All I’ll say is this,” Mom drew a breath before continuing, “Your father’s guilt over what he did, to Bucky specifically, overwhelmed him. He told me how HYDRA manipulated him, a young and ambitious man, into coming to work for them, lying and telling him they were creating a better world with their work. He thought he was fighting for what was right…I’m not making excuses for him, believe me, I’m simply telling you what he told me. Do you remember when he’d wake up from a nightmare?”
I nodded grimly, the shrieks of my father’s always strained vocal cords still haunted me decades later.
“Do you remember what he used to cry when he woke up?” Mom asked.
I silently shook my head in reply, when I’d be awoken by my fathers blood curdling screams as a child, I’d always bury my head under my pillow in an effort to block it out, shedding tears at knowing I couldn’t help him.
“Soldat…”
My head perked up, the word was familiar to me after hearing Zemo call Bucky the same thing when we were undercover in Madripoor.
“Of course by the time that your James was free, your father had been dead for over a decade but,” Mom paused, looking out the window as memories hit her, “Your father’s guilt over what he did ate away at him every day. As far as you went, he told me that the reason he wanted to keep your powers hidden was because he was afraid HYDRA would come for you. It’s the reason I moved us to Delacroix after he died, I didn’t want to take the chance of somebody finding you. Dad didn’t want them to make you a weapon the same way they made one of James. But honey,” she took my hand, “He believed you could do great things, truly. One of the last things he said to me was that our family was the one good thing he’d done in life.”
Everything that I’d thought and everything I’d never thought had been revealed to me. My father’s crimes could never be erased, but some part of me felt satisfied knowing that he knew what he did was wrong. He’d been haunted day and night by Bucky, the man who I was completely head over heels for. In some way, it felt poetic that Bucky and I had ended up together. I couldn’t magically heal his trauma, but for every bit of torture my dad and countless others inflicted upon him, I was now there to shower him in the love and safety he deserved.
“Have you…forgiven him for what he did?” I hesitantly asked.
“You know, after all these years, I’m still not sure what forgiveness looks like in a situation like this,” she admitted with a small shrug, “We weren’t affected, yet his past put us in danger, especially you. And now, seeing the man that he was paid to hurt and how much joy he brings you, it’s bringing up a lot of emotions I thought I’d buried. I know he regretted what he’d done with his whole being and I believe that, but I still question why he didn’t leave sooner. I wish I could give you a better answer but-“
“Mama,” I squeezed her hand and pushed back my tears to help her, “I’ve had this information for a week and I’m still spinning, I can’t imagine what it’s like to sit on it silently for this long. I was hellbent on keeping this from you but I’m actually relieved that I don’t have to hide it…” I took a trembling breath, “Dad did a lot of things wrong in his life, but I have a chance to do a lot of good. I’ve talked to Sam and I’m going to keep working with him, I’m done living with my hands tucked under my legs. I want to make the difference in the world that Dad thought he was making.”
“I think you’re off to a pretty good start,” my mother replied, “I was terrified watching you fly around New York, but I’d also never been prouder of you.”
A knock on the door followed by Bucky sticking his head through it broke us from the topic. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyes widened slightly as he worried.
“Not at all,” my mom said cheerily as she slowly rose from her seat, “I don’t want to keep you two any longer when you’ve got somewhere to be.”
I tightly embraced her and placed a kiss on her cheek, “Love you,” I whispered.
“Love you too, sweetheart,” she replied, gesturing afterwards to Bucky who made his way over to her and allowed himself to be hugged by her, “Take care of my girl, James.”
“I will,” Bucky promised, pulling back to give a nod full of conviction.
Once the two of us had shut my mom’s door and were back out in the hallway of the nursing home, Bucky noticed the slight puffiness of my eyes. “Happy tears or sad tears?” he asked as we walked down the hall.
“‘I don’t know’ tears,” I replied with a small smile, weaving my fingers between his gloved metal ones. “But well done, Sergeant. I’d consider that a successful mission,” I finished, receiving the laugh I loved so much and a kiss to the side of my head. I pressed my lips to the place on his shoulder where I knew underneath his layers Vibranium met his skin, one of his favorite places to be kissed. My phone went off then, alerting me to a text, I pulled it out of the pocket.
“Bucky…” I muttered, stopping in the middle of the hall.
“What is it?” he asked as he stepped back to join me, I held my phone out for both of us to read the ominous words displayed.
The world’s seen what you can do, come to Madripoor when you decide to use those hands for something worthwhile.
- The Power Broker
“How did they get my number?” I asked in surprise, letting Bucky take my phone to examine it closer as if he could find something I couldn’t.
“I don’t know,” he answered, handing the device back to me, “But we’re changing it immediately, you need to show this to Sam soon as we get to the house.”
“They’re not actually threatening me, seems more like a job offer than anything else that’s only going to be declined. Plus, they’re all the way in Madripoor,” I stuck the phone back in my pocket, “I’m not going to let this ruin our day.”
Bucky frowned down at me as I took his arm once again, “You’re a little too relaxed about this.”
“I’m a mutant who can make things move with her mind with Captain America for a brother and a Super Soldier for a boyfriend, I’d love to see the Power Broker try to mess with that.”
——
The dock was exactly how I loved to see it, packed and filled with joy.
Sam and Sarah had invited the whole town to the celebratory cookout, people of all ages flooding our corner of the bayou as Bucky and I pulled up. Sam had loaned us his truck for the duration of our stay and I was having the time of my life showing Bucky around Louisiana and there was nothing more Louisiana than a cookout with the entire community.
Bucky parked near the end of the dock and hopped out, carrying the ice cream cake that we’d picked up on our way. He crossed around the front of the truck to open the door for me, taking one of my hands and helping me hop out of the passenger side. After a dozen more reassurances during the drive that the text I’d received wasn’t worth freaking out about, he’d begun to relax. For once, he wasn’t trying to hide his emotions. I could see it plain as day on his face, he was genuinely excited to be back in Delacroix and even more excited when the familiar sounds of AJ and Cass hit our ears.
“Oh! There he is!” Bucky greeted as the boys ran up to us and began throwing fake punches at my boyfriend who willingly played along, dramatically dodging their imaginary hits. He raised up the hand that held the cake over Cass’ head and yelled to which I quickly threw an energy shield underneath his arm to protect the overly expensive dessert.
“Aunt Y/n! Can you make us fly?” AJ came up to my side and begged.
Cass backed his brother up, “Yeah, can we? Please?”
“No,” I replied, retaking Bucky’s hand and letting him lead us through the crowd, “But you can follow us with your two perfectly functional legs.”
My nephews both groaned and laughed as they fell in step behind Bucky and I. “Where is everybody?” he asked as he set the cake down on one of the picnic tables set out and removed his sunglasses.
“Uncle Sam’s taking pictures with people, Mom’s cooking and Aunt Mel’s at one of the tables,” Cass answered, his face lighting up as he got a good luck at the dessert.
“After dinner,” I said, quickly having switched back into aunt mode, “Now lead the way.”
I extended my hand toward the boys and raised them up a few inches above the ground, receiving laughter and praises in return as I moved them ahead of us and through the crowd. Along the way people kept patting me on the back or sneaking in quick hugs, they shook Bucky’s hand and thanked us both for what we’d done in New York. The only thing that confused me was how people weren’t calling me by name. By the time we made it to Sarah, I had questions.
“There they are, America’s Power Couple,” she announced, coming out from behind the booth where she’d been chopping to hug us both.
I pulled back to lower the boys back to the ground, “Do you know why people I’ve known almost all my life are suddenly calling me ‘Sapphire?’”
“Did you not check the internet at all when you were in Brooklyn?” she raised an eyebrow before pulling out her phone from her back pocket and pulling up Instagram, “Ever since the night of the fight, people have been referring to you as Sapphire. People are posting pictures of you, trying to get interviews with you, kids are even dressing up like you!”
“Oh my gosh,” I mumbled as I scrolled through the hashtag containing the name, seeing all the proof of Sarah’s words before my eyes. Dozens and dozens of various types of photos displayed my signature shade of blue, “Bucky, look!”
He took the phone out of my hand, a smile spreading across his face soon after. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly, handing the phone back to Sarah.
“You wanted the superhero life, you got it,” my sister laughed before returning to what she was doing, “Sam’s doing pictures and there’s already been people asking if you were gonna be here so I imagine they’re gonna want some with you.”
Bucky grabbed my hand and led me around to where a line had formed, spotting Sam as the destination. As soon as he caught a glimpse of us, he held up a finger to the crowd and broke away from them. The three of us exchanged hugs, me internally laughing to myself at the fact that two weeks after saying they never wanted to see one another again, they were now brothers in arms. Sam took my hand and tugged me towards where everyone was gathered, “Lotta people have been waiting for you, Sapphire,” he smirked.
As the day went on, the three of us did meet and greets with nearly everybody. At one point I found Bucky casually talking to Sarah with AJ, Cass and other neighborhood kids hanging off his vibranium arm. People had gathered around me as well asking to levitate them, something that provided entertainment for everyone. We ate, we laughed, at one point I caught Sam and Bucky watching the sun set over the Louisiana waters. I couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak in between the two and was received with an arm around each of my sides. We’d fought a shared battle along with our own separate three and now that they’d all been put to rest, we could take a minute to enjoy the freedom we’d worked so hard for. The future was unknown, but I knew that if we’d made it through the mess of a week we’d had together, there wasn’t a whole lot that we couldn’t make it through.
——
When the sky darkened, the dock lights went on and the party kept going. Someone had brought out a Bluetooth speaker and there was now a section of the dock that acted as a makeshift dance floor. I was seated at a table with Melanie watching the show, baby Alexandria fast asleep in her arms.
“So…Bucky,” my sister said teasingly teased.
I let out a loud sigh, “Bucky.”
“He’s perfect for you,” she smiled, “I’m glad you brought him home.”
“Me too,” I scanned the dock until I spotted my boyfriend, engrossed in a conversation with Sam, “He fits right into the family.”
“I’ll say, the kids love him. Max and Sophia have been following him around all day, I’ve never been able to get the baby to sleep as fast as when he held her…”
I chuckled, “Yeah, just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive, you stuck a baby in his arms.”
Mel snickered at my reaction, “Yeah, pretty sure every woman on the dock snapped a picture of that.” The two of us burst into laughter before hushing ourselves as to not wake the sleeping infant. “Hey, Sapphire,” she nudged my shin with her foot, “I’m proud of you.”
“Well, that’s a far cry from how you felt last week,” I commented, remembering the fear in my sister’s voice from our phone calls in Riga.
“I’m always going to worry about you, but once I actually saw you do your thing,” she breathed, “I was just in awe of how you would risk your life to save all those people. It would be a waste to not put your gift to good use.”
I leaned my head against hers and brushed a finger over Alexandria’s thinly haired head, appreciating the sweetness of the moment. Once a slow song came on the speakers, I watched as Bucky stepped away from Sam and made his way over to our table. “Can I steal your sister away for a dance?” he asked Mel.
“Steal? You can keep her,” I shot my sister a faux smile while she watched on with a grin as I took Bucky’s outstretched hand and let him lead me away.
“Gonna show me some more Madripoor moves?” I jested as we walked across the dock.
“That was not dancing, although I did enjoy it,” Bucky replied, giving me a wink that could have melted me into a puddle, “I’ll show you what real dancing is.”
I recognized the song as a version of ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ and realized Bucky waited until now to show off any moves in his arsenal because it was probably the first song he recognized on the playlist. He encircled my waist with his flesh arm and took my hand in his Vibranium one, pulling me so close that there wasn’t any space left between us. He began to sway us slowly to the beat of the song. I rested my cheek against his, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the bayou evening air. As far as I was concerned, dancing in the arms of the man I was somehow lucky enough to call my own in the place I loved most in the world was the perfect end to a perfect day.
“Alright, I give…” I relented softly, close enough to his ear that I barley had to speak louder than a whisper for him to hear me, “Your version of dancing is better.”
He gave a gentle laugh, the sweetest sound, and rubbed at my waist, “It’s more about the partner than it is the actual dance, think I’ve got the best one.”
“You certainly know how to make a girl blush, Sergeant Barnes,” I replied just before he spun me out of his arms and back into his body, “When’s your flight back to Brooklyn?”
Bucky cocked an eyebrow, “Already tired of me?”
“Never,” I shook my head with a genuine smile, “Just trying to soak in all the time I can with you before you go back.”
“About that…” he trailed off, turning his gaze to the various other couples dancing around us, “I was thinking of maybe extending my stay. I mean the scenery’s nice, good food,” he looked back to me, “Decent people.”
The grin that I was fighting was starting to make itself very apparent, “What are you saying?”
“Well,” Bucky shrugged and looked away again, “I mean, I’d need to find a place, hopefully nothing too expensive or else I’d have to find a roommate and even then, it’d be hard to find someone I like enough to live with…”
“Bucky…”
I’d ceased our movements to show just how serious I was, searching his face to try and tell if he was joking or not. “What do you say, doll? You think you can put up with me a little while longer?” he asked with a smirk.
I exhaled happily and pulled him down to my lips, kissing him with all the excitement that filled my veins at the prospect of him staying. When we finally pulled away, I cradled his cheek in my hand. “I will put up with you for as long as you want,” I beamed, pecking his lips once more.
“I’m glad,” Bucky kissed my temple, “It was either telling you this or the other thing…”
“What’s the other thing?” I asked, thinning my eyes at him in expectancy of another surprise.
Bucky drew a breath, taking a few seconds to steady himself for whatever he was planning to say. “Well, I was going to tell you that I love you but,” he clicked his teeth, “Now that I think about it, it’s probably better saved for another time,”
The earth ceased to move and spin at a dizzying pace all at once, his blue eyes never more truthful than they were in that moment.
“I think you’re right,” I said over the lump in my throat, holding back the tears that had come all to quickly, “Best to save that for another day, wouldn’t want to make a hasty declaration or anything...”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Bucky replied plainly, continuing our charade.
I gave him a watery smile, bringing one of my hands up to run through the hairs at the base of his neck. “I love you too,” I whispered.
Both of Bucky’s arms wrapped around my waist, clutching me as tight as he could without actually injuring me as our lips met. I encircled his neck and relaxed into him completely, feeing aglow with the love that I could finally admit to feeling. Both of us smiled into the kiss, feeding off of the mutual joy of what was unfolding before us. Was it crazy to commit in the ways I was committing to a man I’d known for only two weeks? To some, yes. But ‘some’ hadn’t formed the bond that Bucky and I had over the short span of time it had taken for me to fall in love with him. We had seen the best and the worst of each other, rising and falling with one another’s waves and learning what made the other tick. I wanted every part of him, the good, the bad, the traumatic and the pure. The quick decisions that would raise eyebrows made sense to us, and that was more than enough reason for me to see each one through.
“Thanks for not giving up on me,” Bucky said softly after we’d parted, pulling back to admire me.
“Thanks for not letting me give you up,” I returned, staring up into the eyes that had first captured me. The eyes that I’d get to stare into each and every day.
Since the night we’d connected on the jet ride to Berlin, there was some way Bucky had made me feel that I couldn’t put a name to. Something I couldn’t understand at the time but I was fully aware of now. Bucky felt like home. And with our bright future ahead of us, wrapped in his arms dancing underneath the Louisiana stars, I’d never felt more at home.
----
A/N: I'm not crying, you're crying. GUYS. IT'S OVER. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY TIME NOW? I want to thank every single person who liked, commented, reblogged, sent messages and asks and supported this silly little fic I thought up one day after watching TFATWS. As someone who is super insecure about their writing, seeing it well received was a boost to my confidence to keep running with this. I've loved getting to write this and give it to you all and can't wait to write more for you. I'm adding my new taglist link for anyone who would like to be added, it's separated by the characters I write for and you can choose which ones you'd like to follow. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES AGAIN. I LOVE YOU ALL 3000!!
Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlyhufflepuff @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse @living-that-best-life @haphazardhufflepuff @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20 @missstef23 @qhbr2013 @sebby-stann @bluemoon-icecream @iixbella @lets-love-little-me @abitofeverythinggg @itsnottilly @sltwins @mads-weasley @hart-failure @natdrunk @nctma15 @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @patdsinner33 @rosebucketbarnes @tylard-blog1
#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#sam wilson x platonic!reader#sam wilson x reader#marvel imagine
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
🔞 the games you play - lucifer x reader
has ;
VERY minor brat / brat tamer dynamics. gender neutral / you pronouns
notes ;
this feels like i’m playing dolls with someone and they’re like “lucifer is a brat tamer dom!!” and i’m like “no he’s a soft service top!” and we just play tug of war with the plot. ALSO more sensual than sexual but what can you do you know? // minors DNI!
After a strenuous day, the last thing Lucifer wanted to do was clean up the messes of his brothers, only to find that they managed to rope you into their trouble. His brothers were a lost cause in terms of reformation- his punishments only served to delay the inevitable return to trouble. But you were supposed to be far more reasonable, a beacon of hope in his life where previously only chaos reigned.
(Of course, you would always be the spark of hope that refused to die in his cold, black heart, but the way your face crumpled when you even thought he might be disappointed in you was too cute not to encourage.)
So after you've cleaned up your mess, he makes you stand in his office and wait for him to finish with his brothers. Demonic punishments would be deadly for a human - that's the thing excuse that gets passed between the other inhabitants for the house. But as you shuffle your feet and twiddle your thumbs, doing your best to look desolate, you can't help but remind yourself that nobody is truly fooled by this act.
When Lucifer enters the room, you immediately straighten out your posture, knowing he saw how you were slumped before. He tsks and stands behind you, making sure you can feel his body heat without being able to touch. The only contact you get is a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you straight when you try to lean back into him. It’s gone all too soon.
“Really,” He says, feigning exasperation. You’ve played this game too many times to think that either of you were particularly convincing actors. “After all that, you can’t even pretend to be a little sorry?”
“What do I have to be sorry for?” You ask, looking unperturbed as he begins circling you slowly, like a predator to prey. Or, more accurately, as if he were trying to examine every angle of a masterpiece. No matter what he liked to think, he was horrible at hiding his utter devotion.
No matter what you liked to think, you were horrible at hiding how eager you were to give him exactly what he wanted.
He lists off your transgressions, but you aren’t listening. You’re distracted by the way his coat moves with his steps, then by its absence when he sheds it and places it carefully on his chair. You wonder if he’s purposely stripping for you or if he’s simply hot. You’re certainly feeling warm, but you know there’s more at play for you than just hellfire.
“...And you can’t even pay attention when I’m right in front of you. How insolent.”
His fingers are gripping your chin, his face is too close to yours, his breath is ghosting over you - and yet you know you cannot touch. You have an urge to give in, to flip the script and start begging, to give him whatever he wants. Part of you wonders why he puts up with this - he has enough backlash during the day, and no amount of him allowing you to serve him at night will feel like enough.
But, for whatever reason, what he wants is this, so you will give him a fight and hope he finds it worth it in the end.
“If you want it so much, maybe you should just make me sorry,” You say. It’s a cliche, of course, but it’s also a terrific idea. There’s no need to tiptoe around what both of you want, so now that you’ve set the stage, it’s time to start the scene.
Unlike many may think, Lucifer's sadism isn't enacted with whips and bruises and harsh words. He hurts you in the way he rewards you for your troublemaking, indulges you despite how undeserved it may be. His generosity stings when all you've done is take away the little time he has to relax, and yet Lucifer is the devil that keeps on giving. Although he is a demon now, he was an angel first, and traces of the true self do not fade out so easily, no matter the facade one puts forward.
So when he leads you to his room, you whine loud enough for him to demand your silence, and you whine again. When he tells you to lean back and not to touch, the first thing you do is put your hands on his shoulders and grin. When he tells you not to keep your noises to yourself, you bite your lip on purpose. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to convince yourselves that you aren’t entirely devout, enough to pretend that you haven’t lost sight of where one of you ends and the other begins.
His hands run hot trails down your sides, and you lift your hips for him on instinct. He has to pull away from you to smile, and you give your most convincing whine of the night. You don’t have too much time to complain, because suddenly he’s hitting just the right spot, filling you up so nicely and you can think of nothing else but how it’s good and everything you’ve wanted.
“Isn’t this better? Isn’t it better to do as I say and be rewarded?” You mewl and he’s kissing you again, unable to remain separated from you for long but pretending he’s merely stopping any rebuttals before they start. Is it necessary to play this game? Would it hurt his pride too much to admit how deeply he wants you when it’s painfully obvious you feel the same?
It doesn’t matter in the end. You’ll do whatever he wants, whatever it takes to make him happy - even if that means pretending to go against his every word. Any game is worth playing if he’s your prize at the end.
#obey me lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#swd lucifer#swd obey me#nsft#works.#me: so hey are yall into devotion#you: uh sure i guess#me: fantastic. i will put it in every fic#also sorry this isn't graphic i'm feeling Extra Ace recently#but i say a tumblr post and had to write this lol
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kuromyu 2021 - First Review
So, yesterday 05-03-2021 was the First Day Performance of Kuromyu 2021, “The Secret of the Boarding School”. It is no secret that I am no fan of the Boarding School Arc, but even so I was very, very curious to see this arc being translated to a stage media.
This review shall not be without spoilers. Not just the story itself, because I think by now most people know how the story unfolds. I mean the execution of the stage play itself.
I shall not lie and admit that my review WILL contain my opinions, meaning it is by no means objective and might influence your opinions. For people who wish to experience the production entirely objectively for themselves, I recommend NOT clicking “keep reading” to reveal the spoiler section.
For now, I shall give my spoiler-free rating per category.
Faithful to canon: ⭐⭐⭐⭐★
Script: ⭐⭐ ★★★
Acting: ⭐ ★★★★
Singing: ⭐ ⭐★★★
Music: ⭐⭐⭐★★
Dancing: ⭐⭐ ★★★
Stage & Costume: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Hereunder I shall give the spoiler-section first preceded by “First Impression”, and then followed by the categories listed here above.
First Impression
The stream started, and seeing the Kuromyu logo in present day again after three years really was very exciting. Since 2010 on as always, Kuromyu opened with the contract scene, and I was positively surprised to see the stage set being quite elaborate! This set was the largest and most elaborate one so far without TOHO’s help.
After the contract scene the prologue gave a very quick recap of the Jack the Ripper, Circus, and the Campania Arc. I am not sure whether it was necessary to show the Jack the Ripper and Circus Arc as they provide no information needed to understand Weston Arc. But I think it was mainly inserted to speak to the nostalgia in Kuromyu fans, and as a Kuromyu fan myself, I have to say it did work. It did not take much time, I think maybe 1 minute per arc, so it was fine.
The recap of the Campania Arc was important as it served to equip the audience with the information that there’s a reaper who creates zombies. Undertaker was shown as the main antagonist of the Campania Arc and responsible for the bizarre dolls.
There was a short brawl between Undertaker and Sebastian, which is in fact a very good choice in my opinion to showcase the dynamic between these two supernatural powers...............except that only 10 minutes in, and the musical already MASSIVELY screwed up by portraying the fight as though Sebastian beat Undertaker. The ONLY reason Sebas is still alive is because Undertaker decided so. Normally I wouldn’t care that much about errors in a recap, but this time it serves as the exposition of Undertaker and Sebastian’s dynamic: It should have shown that Undertaker is an incredibly dangerous foe and that Sebas is scared shitless because of that. Especially because this ties in with how this arc was concluded.
“But okay, fine. Maybe the script has other plans, so I shall let it be,” I thought. Moving on. But it did “plant a seed” in me that this musical is either going to contradict itself, or that it is going to defy canon. That was the first impression.
The prologue transitions into the setup of the case quite smoothly, and I have to say it was skillful. You very quickly see Ciel change into the Weston uniform and the admission ceremony was swiftly started. Immediately you get introduced to Agares, the prefects and their fags, and the musical does a good job defining the atmosphere as: “something is off here”.
Faithful to canon: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ ★
The overall musical was really quite faithful to canon. Most plot points were as they were in the manga, and enough so that I would recommend anybody who doesn’t understand Japanese to first re-read the arc as homework. If you have the arc fresh in your memory, it is very easy to trace every action back to the canon.
There are some details that were omitted or changed, probably done so in consideration for the stage medium or run-time, and done reasonably so. Unlike the previous Kuromyus, 2021 adds very little new elements that were not there in the manga. No added extra depth, but also no unnecessary additions.
There were a few things that were very off-canon, namely the characters. But I think that falls under the “acting” header, rather than this header.
Script: ⭐⭐ ★ ★ ★
The script was a real disappointment. You might wonder how faithfulness to canon can be 4/5, and yet the script only a 2/5 in my opinion. WELL, most dialogue was based on the text in the manga, but told as dry as possible. It was also as though the script writers didn’t trust its audience intelligent enough to understand things on their own, or even remember something that was said literally 5 minutes ago.
Exposition Ad Nauseam
There was a tremendous amount of exposition, exposition, exposition, ad nauseam. There was exposition about who Ciel is and what the Queen’s Watchdog is and what his job entails, and that is entirely fine. That’s necessary background information for spectators unfamiliar with Black Butler. However, there was also a lot of exposition that could easily have been left out, or concluded through context. For example, there were quite many expositions about the history and status of the Weston College. In my opinion, a competent script writer could have let the audience known that the Weston College is really important just by giving the information that the blood relative of the QUEEN attends the school, and by showing the Red House, since their entrance is based on social status.
In this post I wrote about my following concern:
Unlike tennis, cricket is a very foreign sport to most people. Cricket cannot be shown without explaining the rules. So if Kuromyu were to happen, these expositions that were dry in the manga to begin with, are going to be even dryer on stage. Does an actor narrate the rules? Do we want Sebastian to sing us the rules??? Or do we want the kids to sing us the rules themselves while they are batting the balls?
And alas, true to my fear, Sebas indeed narrates the rules to us... But even worse, he also explains cricket by using baseball analogy... This is an incredibly ineffective and time-wasting method, because:
it takes the audience out of the moment,
it assumes the audience knows enough about baseball to let it help understand cricket,
and it assumes the audience actually cares about the name of every single strike....
Repetition Ad Nauseam
Then there is the problem where many info-dumps sounded like: “LIKE I JUST SAIDDDDD, DON’T FORGET!!!”. The script for Sebas is the biggest offender. There were many moments Sebas was just saying the same thing twice. At times he repeated the same information, and there were some moments where he regurgitated already given information. (Sorry I’m just being nasty here, but that’s what it felt like (;;≽▽≼;;) )
Sebastian has this obsession with constantly proclaiming himself an omnipotent, one hell of a butler, which makes him capable of doing anything... and after a while it just gets a bit tedious. I have the feeling the scriptwriter really has the hots for him, and therefore can’t shut up about how powerful he is.
While Sebas is the biggest offender, he is by far not the only one. This musical is guilty of doing a lot of very unnatural lines that no person would ever say. Soma for example, seems incapable of saying anything without shouting that he is the Prince of India and Ciel’s BFF. First time, FINE. But the entire time? My god....
Characterisation
Then there is the characterisation of characters in the script. Of course in great part the characterisation is dependent on the actors too, but no matter how amazing an actor is, you do as the script demands.
As discussed above, Sebas is done dirtiest by the script. This script also makes him incredibly arrogant and a bit too happy to be in his master’s service. Similarly, Ciel is also written entirely dependent on Sebastian, and equally happy that Sebas is happy to serve. In the first song between Ciel and Sebastian, without any prompt Sebastian asks his master for his orders, as though that’s what Sebas is looking forward to all day. And the first thing Ciel says in response is: “can you take on this reaper [Undertaker] and the large number of moving corpses?” to which Sebas responds: “Leave everything to me, because I am the Phantomhive butler.” ........and then he proceeds to defeat Undertaker effortlessly.........!?!?!?!?!?! When fighting Undertaker, Sebas also says: “what a bother” as though it’s just a bit of an unpleasant chore rather than a life-threatening fight. And just before Undertaker disappeared all the way at the finale of the arc, Sebas seriously says: “I really don’t get along with you”. SERIOUSLY, WHO WROTE THIS?!
Myu!Ciel is CLEARLY the master of this Sebastian as he seems to be on a permanent power trip. He “it’s an order”s Sebastian for the most trivial of things. At the beginning when Sebas was fighting intruders already, Ciel “it’s an order”s Sebas to take down the intruders.... HE’S ALREADY AT IT!!!
In chapter 70 where Sebas and Ciel simultaneously think of Soma, Ciel doesn’t give Sebas an official order. This shows the audience that there is a certain level of trust between master and servant that they’re on the same page AND that Sebas has come to a stage where he will actually do what’s necessary.
In the musical however, Ciel gives a full “Sebastian, it’s an order, get the procedures done to get him here, to the Weston College.”
This is also an example of how unnatural and repetitive the script is. Who would EVER say “get the procedures done to get him here, to the Weston College”???? Of course procedures need to happen first! And “here” alone would have sufficed, scriptwriters. We KNOW where “here” is! We didn’t forget since 5 seconds ago!
Lyrics
The lyrics are technically not the script, but they are ridden with the same problem as the script itself, so I shall take the liberty of discussing these under the same paragraph.
There is a LOT of repetition in the lyrics as well. The P4 especially sing “Weston” and “tradition” like the ENTIRE time. One song literally goes: “this is Weston, Weston, Weston, Weston, at Weston we uphold our traditions, traditions, traditions, traditions.” The other song is: “It’s cricket, it’s cricket, it’s cricket,” and another “I am Ciel’s BFF, BFF, BFF, Ciel, lord Ciel, lord Ciel, lord Ciel’s BFF.”...... *shudders* ((ﾟﾟ((Д))ﾟﾟ)) AAAAHHHH!!!!
Acting: ⭐ ★ ★ ★ ★
The acting was by far the most abominable in the musical safe for two gems: Chesslock and Derek. There are too many characters to discuss, so I shall keep it to the main/noteworthy ones.
The gems
Chesslock has this tremendous energy and something very wild about him, and his jumps are so incredibly precise it’s amazing! Derek has but a very small role, but the moment he showed up as the zombie you already immediately saw there was something “off” about him. It was very subtle, but still clearly unhinged. When he was acting living-Derek, you also clearly saw what type of prick he was. Amazing! These two were the brightest stars of the show.
The....... not gems
The most unwatchable ones were Soma and Harcourt. Soma doesn’t have a big role, but he bothered me so much he is ironically the most memorable one. It’s like Okada saw “loud and obnoxious (in a good way)” in the manga, turned it up to 12, and gave the worst portrayal possible. As said above, the script making him repeat “Indian prince” and “BFF” the entire time doesn’t help, but blaming just the script would be letting Okada off too easily.
Harcourt...... gave me so much secondhand embarrassment I literally got a cramp looking at him. When the diarrhea happened he was screaming like a pig about to be raped and slaughtered... and I am NOT making a rape-joke here. I would never. He really did sound like he was unwillingly aroused and terrified at the same time.
Sebastian
Let’s start with the good things: Tateishi’s Sebas did have his presence and his movements were fairly neat. He was never just standing there. He is quite elegant, and not swaggering or pulling spasms on stage unlike a CERTAIN someoneeeeee. He could work a BIT on the coordination of his extremities, but that’s only when I’m nitpicking.
But otherwise.... he was a bit underwhelming to be honest. The main problem is not necessarily Tateishi’s acting-skill maybe, but his interpretation I think... but I can’t say his acting was amazing even at knife-point. The way he acts Sebas makes him look like a complete fanboy of Ciel... which is just not Sebas. He is incredibly eager and at times I could almost see a puppy tail wagging. Whenever he is getting an order from his master he is just beaming. And with Undertaker there was not a single hint that Sebas is scared of the only foe who managed to mortally wound him.
His interaction with Ciel was also very SebaCiel heavy. In the manga where Ciel challenges Sebas why he didn’t go after Undertaker, Sebas is clearly emphasising the importance of the contract, and half-threatening his master not to dare “it’s an order” him to go after Undertaker.
In the musical however, Sebas is all UWU, as though saying: “I couldn’t let the big baddy hurt you... uwu”. Without exaggerating, Sebas caresses Ciel’s face THREE times and then embraces him.
Ciel
Ciel was very unbearable to watch in my opinion. Not as bad as Soma and Harcourt, but otherwise an “honourable” third place after them. In the manga it was a bit cringey to begin with because he is supposed to fake being (*ÓωÒ*), but seeing a 20 year old man do that... and play it up to 11 was just jarring. Ciel is like “tehe” very often, but never actively skipping like a forest fairy.
This Ciel also has tremendous mood-swings! He is either UWU or actively a ice-cold diva... and at times he is also being UWU when he’s not around others???? There was also not a single moment where I could see him cooking up a plan. No hint of intelligence or cunningness to be found.
Unlike with Tateishi I can’t really come up with anything good to say about him.
Undertaker
Undertaker was the best among the main three (not that the bar is very high). He is making efforts to tease-threaten Sebas, which I think is a very nice added detail (it’s just that Sebas reacts to none of them... sad.) and even though his role is pathetically small (he doesn’t show up as the principal), he still managed to present himself in the spotlights.
P4
Greenhill had his energy, he was funny, and something really funnily militaristic about him. Though, I was missing nuance in his acting because at not a single point could you see Greenhill might have a trauma for killing people.
Redmond was Viscount of Druitt light and he had a very strong emphasis on the BL aspect with Maurice......which was just personally not my cup of tea. But I have to admit that aspect was played up too in the manga. So I guess he was faithful to canon.
Violet was quite charming and eccentric. He did play up the gothicness of the Violet house, which was actually kinda nice! He also had a deep friendship with Chesslock, which I really liked. When Violet didn’t do shit during the tournament Chesslock was really miffed about that, and challenged him. And then Violet showed Chesslock a portrait he drew of him, saying: “you just looked so cool I had to capture that.” That was amazing! He is a bit bitchier and sassier than in the manga, but I really don’t mind.
Bluer.... William light. He was the least memorable of all of them.
Singing: ⭐ ⭐ ★ ★ ★
Nobody really hurt my ears, but also nobody quite hit the notes... and the notes weren’t that hard.
Music: ⭐⭐⭐ ★ ★
Eehhhhhhhhhhhh I’d say the songwriter played most songs a BIT too much on the safe side. Not a single song was memorable, but they didn’t offend me either. The main theme was fairly nice actually, but only when just the instrumentals played. I think it might have been the singing just being too chaotic for me to actually hear the music.
Dancing: ⭐⭐ ★ ★ ★
Chesslock is an tremendously good dancer, his movements were precise and energetic. But otherwise.... nobody really popped out, but there was nobody who looked like a noodle on stage either.
The main problem is choreography; with some exceptions they were very underwhelming and messy. There were a lot of group dances, but often enough people were just a bit out of sync and messy.
Stage & Costume: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Stage Set
The stage set was VERY good. It was well made and mobile; they could be moved around and functioned as different props. Examples include the cellar in which Derek and his gang were committing crimes, and the boat of the parade even. The set also had this really magical aesthetic about it which communicated the glamour of the Weston College well.
Costumes
The costumes were well made. The logo on the uniforms for example were actually embroidered rather than those iron-on plastic things. The wigs were .... very messy after jumping around a bit and they looked very greasy. But that’s fine. They did their job and I realise I’m just spoiled. TOHO makes their wigs using real human hair, and that’d be an astronomical sum for any normal 2.5D company.
My ONLY problem is Ciel’s “lord costume”. This photoshoot photo underneath is doable, but trust me, on stage it is a nightmare. There are no clear photos of this costume on stage, and I think I understand why.
It was glittery velvet which just SCREAMS cheap Halloween costume, it was ill-fitted, almost like it was 2 sizes too large. The costume makers didn’t take stage-lighting into account, so the fabric and details glistened all over the place. Under the limelight the “golden” aiguillettes were PISS yellow. And the suddenly black sock suspenders protruding from his white boots were just...... distracting.
BUT, this was just one costume and he only wears it in the prologue and the finale of the show. Even though it’s God-awful, the rest were well made enough to compensate for this abomination.
Conclusion
So now finally the conclusion! The musical was..... fairly faithful to canon, but the execution leaves quite a lot to be desired. The interpretation/acting of the characters were the most disappointing one, while the stage/costumes were the most charming.
Do I recommend buying the stream/DVD/BD?
Stream: Yes.
I personally do recommend buying the stream as it’s only 3800 yen, especially if you like the Weston Arc itself, and/or are curious to see how they did it. Even though I myself really hate the Weston Arc in and of itself, I was very curious to see how it’d be translated to a stage medium. Despite my mostly negative opinion of the musical, I don’t regret buying the stream at all!
The best reason in my opinion to buy the stream though; it’s a very good and legal way to get a “preview” to see if you want to spend approximately 10000 yen on the proshot.
DVD/BD: Depends on you.
I myself have decided not to buy the DVD because I don’t think I’ll be rewatching it after the stream-archive period is over. The DVD/BD are the most expensive so far, and to me the final product is just not worth that amount of money.
But if you like the Weston Arc, or the performers, or you think you will be rewatching it and you are a collector, I think it is a very nice addition to your shelve.
127 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steamy Waters — Taehyung
Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Lace)
Wordcount: 7.6k ( mostly edited✌️)
Genre: smut, pwp, fluff, slightest angst, established relationship, idol!AU
Rating: 18+ (As usual, I know)
Hello baby bears! Welcome to Taehyung’s Steamy Waters. I must admit this episode is going to be a lot steamier than planned, but I cannot lament. Recently we celebrated Taehyung’s birthday, so I thought I could add a little extra as a late celebration.
There’s not much plot, honestly. Tae and Lace are bathing together in true Kim Taehyung fashion when the intrusive presence of mirrors on every bathroom wall makes it hard not to stare at each other. And when wandering hands — and wandering feet... and wandering mouths — start wandering too much the temperature in the room becomes too hot to handle. Chaos ensues. Especially when Taehyung is... at her service.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. Wine drinking. Humping, bathtub sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship (don’t make me tell again that you and your partner(s) should be clean before going condomless); massage, slight footjob; oral fixation (not only in terms of oral sex, both male and female receiving btw) but also foot worship, breast worship, body shot, face riding (male receiving), cum eating; spanking, one (1) pussy spank; masturbation (female receiving), also anal fingering (external stimulation only); maid!Taehyung, switch!Taehyung, hard dom!Taehyung, big dick!Taehyung, soft domme!reader, very sub!reader; hair pulling/grabbing; choking kink, degradation kink, overstimulation, squirting, sensory blackout. Taehyung uses a safeword (yellow); did I mention that MIRRORS ARE BACK BUT THIS TIME IT’S WORSE? And if you didn’t guess VOYEURISM 24 out of 10. Also, the softest aftercare and mentions of sleeping pills to help reader relax after... ahem... all of those. Things. In the trigger warnings.
In case you need my masterlist, here it is :)
Enjoy! 💜✨
A jazz piece was playing on the modern gramophone in a corner of the bathroom, somewhere far from the tub, where you and Taehyung would most likely make a splash and quite surely ruin the device.
Taehyung was laying at the opposite side of the tub, head thrown back as your foot rubbed his thigh.
You were pretty chill yourself, arms pressed against the edge of the tub, keeping you from relaxing too much and going under.
“Baths are magic.” You murmured, your toes meeting his hip before sliding back down again.
He hummed in confirmation. “The only problem is with washing one’s hair. It’s so uncomfortable.” He caught your foot underwater, his thumbs digging in the few knots you felt there. If the bath was magic, his hands were miraculous.
You felt your whole body melt and slide half an inch lower, your self restraint too weak to stop you from moaning.
Taehyung smiled fondly and sensuously. “You like it there?” He asked, his fingers moving to the heel, pressing against all those spots he knew from his acupressure appointments.
Your whole leg went insensitive in a very pleasing way. “Yes, you like it, dove.” He said, grinning and moving to your calf, specifically to the spot where the muscle met the bone near your ankle.
“Don’t want your ankles to swell.” He said, pushing your foot into slow, articulate circles.
Your soul definitively abandoned your body.
“We’ll put ice packs on these bad girls as soon as you’re out of the tub.” He said.
“It’s not that bad.” You said, just as he drew two parallel lines with his thumbs digging into your muscle reaching the back of your knee.
You had to grip the rim of tub to keep yourself from end up with your head underwater.
“It is that bad.��� He said, rubbing small circles and making sure that all the exertion was magically sucked out of you. “No need to lie to me.” He said, looking at you with his dark eyes, his hair all curled up due to the steam coming from the water and filling the air. His own foot ran down your inner thigh, the sole of his foot ghosting over your pelvis.
There were too many reflective surfaces all over the bathroom.
Angles of him appeared everywhere. Specifically when he lifted your leg and placed a kiss to the upper arch of your foot.
“Shall I move to the other leg?” He asked, lowering your calf back in the water.
You nodded, trying to scoot your hips forward, against his heel.
“Feeling needy?” He asked, as his fingers repeated the procedure he had performed before on your other leg.
“So much.” You replied, using your freshly rejuvenated foot to tease his erection. His massage had activated nerve endings that had probably never really been there before he touched you.
“Let’s finish this leg then,” he said, as he kept pushing your ankle in wide circles.
“Tae,” you called, just as he moaned, your toes tickling his belly while the ball of your foot, way fleshier, teased his head.
“I never thought I could like this.” He said with a small surprised smile before he threw his head back, the cords of his neck tensing, the veins throbbing so clearly under the complicated game of shadows originated by the soft lights in the bathroom.
You loved his bathroom. It was soothing, with all the dark hues and the orangey lights.
His hands stopped for a second. “You’re distracting me.” He said.
“I wanted to treat you nice. For your birthday.” You replied. “I still can’t believe we went vanilla on your birthday night.” You said, still teasing him, hoping you could have him speaking in that soft, deep, dreamy voice he has whenever you’re getting him in the mood.
“It was good vanilla though.” He commented, his hips jerking forward with a small grunt before he felt his spine turn into putty.
“Very good vanilla.” You said, removing his leg from between yours, deciding to be generous and focus on him.
“Still, I owe you birthday sex.” You said, noticing his slow chuckle as you made him part his legs wide.
“Come here.” He said, removing the drain stopper with his fingers and bringing his hand between his legs as you bent your legs underneath your torso and crawled to him, straddling him and grinding your pelvis against his. “This is way better.” He purred, one of his hands keeping him upright while the other one landed on your ass. “You’re so soft.” He said, pushing his crotch up and against you. “I could just...” Once the water was low enough that his cock emerged freely from the surface, he put the drain stopper back in place, taking in your lustful expression as you ground on him.
“I think you’re the one who wants birthday sex.” Taehyung said, grabbing your hips and squishing the skin there.
His touch was always something that set you on fire. Ever since the first time, since your very first touch, he had completely possessed your entire being. Whenever his body connected with yours it felt like your skin and his were ready to part and like the raw extremities of a wound, and heal together, his blood vessels becoming yours, or maybe yours becoming his, until there was no distinction anymore. It was the exact opposite of that kind of surgery performed to separate conjoined twins.
And no surgery, no cutting was necessary. It was just. Preternatural. And so, so natural at the same time.
“Do you need me to stretch you?” He asked, his thumb massaging your clit.
One more bridge between you and him.
“I can take you. I’m so turned on.” You said, bending to kiss his neck and drink the small droplets of water glistening there.
“Was it the massage?” He asked, rolling his head back, offering you even more skin to kiss.
“I don’t know,” you said, licking him. Meanwhile you started noticing it wasn’t water, but rather your own slick making you slide on him.
Water was too unreliable, it would leave you dry and make the whole experience traumatic; especially, considering his size, both in length and girth.
“We can act like it’s your birthday.” He said, kissing a soft spot under your jaw. “Have an early birthday for my Nymphette.” He said, this time nibbling against the sweet spot on your neck.
You chuckled and brought your hands down his chest, scratching his stomach gently and playfully pinching the soft flesh of his belly. You loved him being so lithe and at the same time a bit fluffy in such an adorable spot. It made you think of childhood games, like blowing raspberries of his sensitive tummy. It always makes him so happy that his eyes spark up with pure, innocent joy, his mop of hair immediately coming for your neck and bosom, where he nuzzles in to tickle you before rubbing his face against your breasts like a cuddle some cat.
Once your face parted from his neck and chest, he cupped your face, holding you still. “I love you.” He said, staring in your eyes. And it felt so simple: no big statements, no poetic words, no useless rethorics. “I love you.” He repeated.
You mirrored his hold on you, placing both hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumb against his divine features. “I love you.”
It holds more meaning than you could ever explain. The obliterating need in both your eyes and his, the urgency and the fondness. You felt like a pot boiling and overflowing with ten thousand ingredients that were a specific mix of his taste and your taste and his smell and yours and all the tastes and smells you’ve experienced together.
The candle burning in his room the first time you made love. His aftershave. Strawberries. Your shampoo, which became his shortly after you moved in. Champagne and that bubbly feeling of having butterflies in your stomach. French macaroons. The first breakfast in bed. The tteokbokki you had eaten with his parents the day he introduced you to them. The light, talk scent of Yeontan’s fur after the first time you bathed him together.
Now you were horny and emotional.
Taehyung seemed to notice. “Are you feeling okay, honey?” He asked, dragging his thumb against your lower lip.
“I just realised how important you are to me.” You said, bending to his face and kissing him.
“Just now?” He asked, slightly surprised as he raised an eyebrow.
“No,” you replied, closing your eyes and touching your face with his, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek against yours, brushing your noses together, focusing on the intense sensation of his face against such a personal, private part of your own body. “Sometimes I just… get lost in the feeling. It feels like being overwhelmed by all the things we share, all that we have together. How many things remind me of you.” You murmured against the tender spot behind his ear.
“I know.” He said. His hands moved to your waist, fingers sinking in the flesh as he invited you to sit up.
You followed his direction. Once he could look at you, all of you, he took his length in his hand. “Inside?” He asked, checking in on you.
You nodded. “Please. Inside.”
He closed his eyes and smiled, pulling you close to his chest once more with one arm wrapped around your waist.
With the hand on his cock, he rubbed his tip up and down your slit, making you moan a couple times, whimpering when you felt his soft tip breach your walls.
“Tae...” You whined, his lips meeting yours and trying to suffocate your lament.
“Hush, Lace,” he said, touching your spine. “Is it wet enough?” He said, pressing his mouth to your temple. “Take your time, love.”
You inhaled and lifted your hips up before sliding down again, one inch at a time, your muscles constricting around him so hard that you had to stop.
“Too tight,” he said, trying to lift you up slightly. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He said as he kept kissing your face. “Let me stretch you first, love.”
“No.” You whined, your hands stopping his as he tried to slide out of you. “I want it like this. I can take it, just… Easy.” You said, begging. “Please.”
“If it hurts, we stop. Immediately.” He replied, still unsure.
You nodded eagerly and let your hips lower some more. “Kiss me?”
His eyes turned into warm, happy crescents as he obliged, moving his lips against yours. His hips inadvertently jerked upwards, forcing one more inch into you, making you gasp and offering him the perfect chance to let his tongue slide into your mouth.
The kiss was the sweetest poison, with playful flicks and demanding swipes, the tip of his tongue licking the underside of your own as yours arched up toward his palate. In the erotic frenzy of it all, you completely lost control of your legs and before you could notice, he was completely sheathed inside you as he kept sucking on your wet appendage, bobbing his head slightly as your tongue, fully stretched out, methodically appeared and disappeared past his lips. It felt right, your tongue penetrating his mouth as his sex penetrated yours. It felt balanced.
It didn’t take long before your hips started moving, riding him, making him moan and lose the suction he had on your appendage.
Parting from him was a mess of spit, both your eyes and his opening and staring at the silvery string connecting your lips to his. “You’re so hot.” You murmured as his hands landed on your hips, helping you, just as your brought your own palms to your chest, pressing your breasts together, massaging them as they rolled with the way you were simply moving back and forth, not really focusing on bouncing but rather sliding.
Taehyung was immediately captured by the sight of your breasts caught in your palms, his hands staying on your hips to help you while his mouth landed on your left nipple. You quickened your pace as his thumb met your clit, making you whine. “How close?” You asked, brow furrowing as he tugged at your nipple while suctioning it inside his mouth. You moved even faster in reply, gyrating your hips too as he grew more and more eager on your skin, until his teeth had created an indentation on your areola and your nipple was too sensitive to stay inside his mouth, subjected to the ruthless whipping and flicking of his tongue.
“Oh my god, Tae, please, I’m—” You couldn’t put a finger on what was making you so desperately horny, maybe it was simply because you were just out of your period and you had been starving for him for almost a week, but unexpectedly you felt yourself near your edge.
“Lace for fuck’s sake, we’ve just started.” He grunted as he recognised your kegels pulsating around him faster and tighter. “Already?”
You nodded.
“Damn. So hot.” He huffed out before pressing his mouth to your other nipple, giving up on sucking it and deciding to simply loll out his tongue and press it flat against your chest. “Come on, nymph. Cum on my cock.” He swore as he felt you get impossibly tighter. “Fuck it, Lace. Ride it.” He said, removing one hand from your hip before you heard a loud smack, followed by a prickling, burning sensation on your left glute.
The muscles of your ass and legs quivered as you stopped for a second, his thumb restless at the apex of your labia. “Did you—” You shivered as he hit the perfect spot, “Did you just spank me?” You asked, all your muscles tense.
He froze. “… did it… I’m sorry…” He said, confused.
“No, I liked it.” You corrected him. “I was toying with you.” You said with a small smile.
He knew sometimes you weren’t in the mood for spanks and power play. Sometimes you just wanted to be equals and simply get lost in pure, extreme sensations.
He shook his head, incredulous. “Then keep going, nymph.” He said, before surprising you with another spank.
You gasped and chuckled before cupping his jaw and joining your mouths, your hips moving carelessly.
This time he grabbed your ass viciously before slapping it one more time, his tongue being twice as lively as usual as he licked your own tongue, revelling in the velvet paradise of your mouth. Once he felt your hips grow impatient, your movements irregular, he parted from you, throwing his head back, eyes opening, his long lashes fluttering dreamily as he let his mouth hang open before silencing a moan by catching his lower lip between his teeth.
Finally you felt pleasure taking over your body, Taehyung’s eyes opening and focusing up.
He gestured at the ceiling with a jerk of his chin. Following his tip, your gaze turned up. And met the mirror.
In that moment you realised how furiously you were moving on top of him, how eager and desperate and sexy you looked.
“Look at you. So messy for my cock. My little nymph.” He said, smacking your ass once more.
A short whimper exited your mouth as the hit took the air from your lungs.
Your high exploded while his thumb teased the underside of your clit, unprotected by the hood and painfully sensitive by now.
For a second, everything felt too intense, your hair wet and dripping down your back, the water grown cold by now, and his skin so hot, his nipples hard under your thumbs, his hands moving to your breasts once you didn’t need him on your clit anymore, his palms sliding on your half-dry skin and pressing your boobs together before he dove his head forward, dragging his whole face against the soft crevasse that your tits formed together. He started ramming his hips up, fucking into you as your movements slowed down.
He loved suffocating between your breasts, gasping hard as your heartbeat drowned his ears, your breathing like a feral, powerful creature beckoning him toward your dark lair of consuming bliss.
Biting his lip, frowning and groaning repeatedly, he slammed his hips hard against the back of your thighs, four, five, six times before he stilled and screamed in pleasure, the dark granite of the walls amplifying his animalistic sound before he bit into your breast, almost painfully.
Too bad you were still lost somewhere in pleasure, his body finally joining yours.
Maybe you would complain about the bite in the morning, when it would be red and sore and maybe swollen.
“____, fuck. Can we have monthly appointments like this?” He said, gyrating his hips tentatively while you gripped the tub, trying to find purchase as your body betrayed you and collapsed almost entirely.
“Monthly birthdays...” You mused, mouth brushing against the column of his throat.
“Do we really need an occasion to fuck like this?” He asked while his hand kneaded the soft folds of flesh around your torso. He found endless pleasure in feeling every aspect of you under his fingers.
And it never made you feel conscious. Rather, it made you feel appreciated, not like he was avoiding your absolutely average and healthy body fat, but more like his fingers were appreciating every detail of you, singing a hymn to your whole body completely devoid of flaws, praising it in the unwavering, glorious materiality of it.
You felt worshipped.
The shiver that ran down your spine rose him from his blissful slumber. “You’re cold?” He asked, pressing you closer to himself.
You nodded and mouthed at his neck. “You feel too good inside, though.”
He chuckled. “It feels good inside you too.” He replied fondly. Sometimes you wondered how this cockwarming thing never made sense to you before you met him.
“But you need to dry your hair, love.” He patted your ass a couple times. “Don’t want you to get sick.” He said, “Plus, we’re going to be uncomfortable here.” He tried to raise his torso from his slumping. You helped him by sitting up yourself, his dick pulsating inside you and making your eyes roll back in pleasure.
He cackled. “Later.” He said his hands circling your waist and helping you up and off him.
As his cock slid out completely, landing on his belly, completely covered in your and his cum, you licked your lips.
“No.” He said, smirking, already placing his hands on your shoulders, keeping you from bending down and sucking him clean.
“Please, sir?” You whined, arching your brows and pouting.
He looked at your swollen, red lips, at your tongue lashing out to wet them seducingly.
He took his hands away. “Have your fun,” he conceded, his nails scraping your shoulders delicately as you bent forward, one of your hands catching your hair before it got messed up.
With your tongue you licked a thin stripe from the base of his cock all the way up to the tip before engulfing it in your mouth. You easily swallowed a good portion of him before pulling him out, nudging his shaft to the side with your nose and cleaning the messy marks on his belly and his pelvis where your mixed fluids on his flesh had imprinted the shape of his cock.
His moan was dark and sinful before he pleaded for a yellow.
You let him go without hesitation. “Are you okay, pup?” You asked, not even enjoying the mix of your and his taste in your mouth because of your sudden, urgent worry.
“Yeah. I just… I need a slowdown, please.” He said, touching your face weakly. “I’m getting cold.” He said, with soft eyes.
Your worry increased tenfold in your chest. First, you sat up and helped him up yourself. “Okay, Tae. Let me just rinse you, yes?” You called, removing the drain stopper and letting the water flow out before you cleaned up both you and him. The water from the tap ran warm — almost hot — a few seconds later and you managed to rinse him properly before he climbed out of the tub. You followed him and wrapped him up in a towel. “There you go, baby.” You said.
He smiled fondly. “Thank you.”
“Would you like me to dry your hair?” He asked, his beautiful hands balled up in cute fists as he held the large towel around his shoulders.
“No, baby, thank you.” You replied kindly and warmly. “Let me just rinse myself before I dry my hair. I’ll join you in bed in twenty.” You said as you noticed him linger close to the door, showing himself a bit too impatient and excited to head out, possibly to bed, with you by his side. Or on top of him. Or below him. Probably below him, considering you had just ridden him.
Caught in your head, you went back to the tub, rinsing yourself quickly and briskly before stepping out and drying yourself up gingerly, leaving your body slightly damp so that your body lotion would dilute a little with the sparse droplets left on your skin, so that it would absorb better.
Once your body smelled like roses from your breasts down, you rinsed your hands, applied your favourite hair care oil and started the hairdryer. It didn’t take long, fifteen minutes at large, before a rapping at the door interrupted your hair ritual.
You frowned. Taehyung wasn’t one to knock. Just to make sure, you lowered the setting of the hairdryer, waiting in case he did it again and making sure that you had heard correctly.
The sound reappeared.
You switched off the device and placed it in its drawer. “Yes?” You replied.
The door opened.
First, Taehyung’s face appeared, his hair ruffled and dry, his expression sweet and innocent. Was he wearing makeup?
No. Impossible.
He hadn’t actually washed his face yet, but he was definitely without makeup earlier.
His lashes looked longer. His lips redder. And he most definitely had enhanced those beautiful eyes of his with dark eyeshadow lining his upper eyelid, making his stare even more intense.
And was that a heart drawn on his cheekbone?
Indeed.
“May I?” He asked, suspiciously formal and courteous.
“Yes, of course.” You said, with a confused smile.
Next, everything made sense.
God bless him. You thought, your heart skipping a bit and stumbling down approximately sixty flights of stairs.
There, with a fancy silver tray and a fancier glass of red wine on top, stood your amazing, extravagant, glorious, mind blowing, seductive, sultry, indecently sexy, wondrous boyfriend. In a maid dress.
Your body did a strange thing, your mouth hanging open basically already drooling.
Was this how he felt anytime he saw you in lingerie?
“I thought my lady deserves special treatment.” He said, coming closer, placing the tray over the small counter near the sink.
The vinyl playing on the gramophone chose precisely that moment to come to an end.
The mechanic arm lifted and moved away, the plate slowly coming to a stop after all the spinning.
Not that you noticed, you were too busy staring at your boyfriend, imagining what you could possibly do to him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t assist you with your lotion, ma’am.” He said, standing, his hands joining before his stomach. “The uniform is a bit difficult.”
“Don’t worry, darling. All forgiven.” You said, your hand shaking as you reached out to touch his face. “You look incredible.” You said, completely dazzled. “Breathtaking.”
He blushed. “Thank you.” His eyes lowered coyly.
“Really, Taehyung. You look… I am speechless, darling.” You said with a big smile plastered on your face. “You’re unreal.” You said, drawing the shape of his lips, the pink lipgloss looking impossibly perfect on his face, emphasising the desirable curves of his mouth.
He stared in marvel too as you looked completely enraptured by his looks. “You like it?” He asked, insecure.
“Yes, of course I like it, love. You look too good, baby.” You reassured him, feeling a tad underdressed standing naked in front of him, while he had several layers of satin, ribbons, lace and of course, the classy apron. He even had puffy sleeves. And the corset tightened in a complicated lacing on the front. You took in every detail. “Do you feel good in it?” You asked, letting your index finger slide down his jaw, along the curve of his neck, to the small mole on his breastbone.
He nodded. “I’ve been tiptoeing around this for a while.” He said, his hand hesitant, his eyes asking for permission to place it atop of yours.
You agreed with a short nod.
“I didn’t know how you would react.” He said, his gaze guarded.
“I love it.” You said, tightening your hand around his fingers and rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “And I love you.” You reassured him, pulling your joined hands to your face and placing a small kiss on his ring finger, where someday his wedding ring would lay. “Although we could do a few adjustments,” you said, staring at him with the eyes of a trained lingerie maker. “It could fit so much better on you.” You said, walking around him, observing the few points where the fabric slouched and flopped, unfit for his lithe body. On the back you noticed a zipper. You would remember that for later.
“Here,” you said, pinching the loose fabric around his slim waist. “And here.” You said, fingering the ribbons over his chest. “With slight modifications, we can make it more comfortable for you. And make it look like an actual uniform.” You said, standing behind him as he stood in front of the mirror. You bent to place a kiss on the crook of his neck. “How beautiful.” You said, your hands wrapping around his waist, appreciating how small it was, how elegant and expensive he looked. “Would you like it if I added a small accessory,” you asked, moving your middle finger to trace the column of his throat. “I was thinking about a choker.” You said, “something frilly. Maybe with a small kitten bell. Plenty of soft ribbons and lace. Make this neck look even prettier.” You suggested, placing another kiss on the other side of his neck, this time letting your mouth open and suck just a little.
You weren’t allowed to mark him there with all the upcoming music shows.
He nodded. “I’d love to.” He said, looking in your eyes timidly in the mirror. “But first I’d like to make myself forgiven for being late for the lotion.” He said, bowing his head. “Please, miss.”
Your head rolled back as pleasure travelled from his mouth to your ears to your core.
“Of course, kitty. As long as this is the way you want things to go.” You stated clearly. “I need your consent, kitty.”
“I want it, miss.” He assured you.
“Then proceed, kitty.” You said, wrapping your hand around his throat and tightening it affectionately.
He turned around and looked at your lips. “May I kiss you, miss?” He asked, eyes still deflecting your stare.
“Yes, kitty. Of course, darling.” You replied with a gentle smile.
He bent down slightly and swallowed nervously before placing his lips on yours, the taste was immediately familiar.
“This is not lipgloss, am I right, kitty?” You asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
“Yes, miss. You’re right, miss.”
Damn him. It was lube. Specifically, watermelon-flavoured lube.
You thought how long it would take for this to become too much. For him to become too hot and melt you until all there was left of you was a bottle of sap stored in the fridge.
And your title.
Your ears basked in victory at his perfect speaking manners. You had educated him properly. He was by far your best exercise in domination so far, his manners impeccable at all times when his submissive persona came into play.
“Come on, kitty. Show me how you intend to gain forgiveness.” You spoke sweetly, caressing the hair at his nape.
Soft. So soft. Always so damn soft.
He knelt. Slowly. Very slowly.
Looking up at you with pure, angelic eyes, he poked with his index finger first at your left thigh, and then at his left shoulder.
You grinned.
“You want my leg on your shoulder, kitty?” You asked with an amused smile.
He nodded eagerly. “Yes, miss. Please, miss.”
You smiled proudly. “That’s a very good kitty.”
Taehyung kept a fond expression, saving his intentions to himself.
Let her think she won, he thought just as his hand landed at your ankle, his fingertips running up the back of your calf, your knee, your thigh, until he applied gentle pressure, inviting you to lift your leg.
Your cunt was right in front of his face, his nose sniffing at your smell, slightly adulterated by your body lotion.
He nuzzled his nose against the tiny patch of hair you kept atop your labia. He loved it without even knowing why. It simply turned him insane. All the time. Especially when he went down on you.
Your hand gripped the hair on the crown of his head, massaging the scalp delicately, but also trying to protect him from potentially bumping it against the drawer under the sink.
“Does it smell good, kitty?” You asked, smiling at him, taking in the view of him.
“Yes, miss. Can I please lick you, miss?” He asked shyly, his voice slightly more high pitched than usual.
“Yes, darling love.” You practically cooed at him.
He didn’t waste a second, his tongue ready to lunge for your opening before he stopped himself with a small gasp. “Thank you, miss.”
You felt even prouder.
God, he really is perfect.
“You’re welcome, kitty.”
And at that, the tip of his tongue brushed the tight rim of muscles lining your entrance, collecting your taste before flattening the muscle and dragging it all the way along your slit, delivering a series of hard flicks as his hands travelled to your ass, helping you ride his face straight away.
You enthusiastically followed his instructions, especially once you felt two of his fingers run from your backside to the front, sliding inside your dripping hole.
“Kitty, that’s very nice.” You said, huffing out an enthusiastic chuckle before it transformed into a sinful deep moan. You started directing his head, his tongue stretched taut past his lips while you ground your crotch against it. “Kitty, this is a very good surprise.” You said, praising him, petting his hair, your eyes closing as he moaned in approval, watching you as you grew more and more lost. You took the glass in your hand, taking a sip of wine and feeling it bloom in your mouth instantly, your cheeks warming up, your veins throbbing with the wild beat of desire awakening your every limb.
Your head rolled back, your hand immediately placing down the glass as you felt your high approach, his fingers sinking all the way to your cervix, tapping against it.
His lips captured your clit, sucking it a couple times before releasing it, pressing it to his front teeth with his strong tongue.
“Tae,” you called, too fucked out to care about pet names and stuff. Your edge was there, waiting for you, all you needed was…
He pulled out his fingers, making you cry out before they returned to their place. Shortly after, his thumb landed on your skin. Wet. Slippery. Right against the oversensitive skin between your cunt and your anus.
All it took was two gentle rubs and your body crumbled, all your weight going to the hand on the sink while your legs shook wildly, your knees too wobbly to survive your high; your other hand too moved to the sink, too scared of hurting your lover. His hands gripped you tighter instead, pushing you harder against his face while his tongue lashed out, the hard muscle grinding against your clit as he moved his head furiously in a nodding motion.
You weren’t sure you called his name or screamed or simply held your breath and stayed silent, your ears were completely out of order.
If it weren’t because of being on your feet, you would have thought you had passed out. Taehyung’s arm stayed tight around your waist while you removed your leg from his shoulder, trembling as you placed it down. “Holy hell.” You said, still gripping the sink for support. You looked at Taehyung. His whole face was covered in wetness, the heart on his cheekbone completely smeared, the only lube left on his mouth being the wetness coming from yourself. “You look amazing, Tae.” You complimented him. “A damn masterpiece.” You said, proud to your very core.
He grinned.
Kitty out. Tiger in.
“May I have some wine now?” He asked, no honorifics, no submission.
You grinned and bit your lip, wiggling your eyebrows.
He wiggles his right back.
Holding the glass, you took a large sip in your mouth, leaving a scarce finger in. You took a step back, bending at your waist and placing your mouth near Taehyung’s. He opened his mouth invitingly and you let a small amount dribble past your lips and fall into his mouth.
He patted his lips wider before stretching up surrounding your lips with his, making sure that not a drop got to waste.
Once he was sated, he placed a finger under your chin, moving it to your throat and wrapping his hand there.
“Now you’re gonna stand up and bend over, Lace.” He ordered, no trace of pliability in his demeanour, and no sign of mercy either.
You obeyed immediately.
“Hands on the sink. Keep them there.” You heard the sound of a zipper. Looking up you noticed that he was naked.
And that he was hard.
You licked your lips nervously.
“Lower your head.” He said, spanking you out of the blue.
So he was in a spanking mood. Mentally, you agreed.
“I know you want me like this. Uh?” He asked.
“Yes, sir.” You replied, inhaling deeply as his fingers drew the line of your spine.
His finger stopped at the middle of your back, pressing on your spine to make it arch until it became almost painful.
“Stay.” He said, grabbing the silver platter and balancing it on your ass. The cold made you hiss, but you focused on staying perfectly still. “Stay.” He repeated, “I need to wash my hands.” He said, before abandoning the platter on your behind and coming to your side, standing right beside you as he washed slowly poured some soap on his palm, opening the tap and wetting his hands rubbing them together as he closed the tap with his elbow.
“It is always a pleasure to look at you like this.” He said, taking all the time in the world.
All you could see was his legs, midthigh down.
“You look like you don’t have a dominant bone in your body.” He mused, making sure that the thin foam reached between his fingers too. “You say ‘yes, sir’ and you sound like the single, most obedient, pliant creature in the world. Like you were made to please me.” He continued, looking at the platter tremble slightly.
He decided he could rinse his hands and dry them.
In half a minute he was standing behind you once more.
With your head hanging low, you felt the weight on your backside diminish imperceptibly. The platter disappeared next, landing on the counter.
Taehyung’s left hand laced with the hair on your nape, moving your rebellious locks aside. Now he had the whole expanse of your back before him, naked and richly arched.
Considering the situation, he cocked an eyebrow, clicking his tongue.
Something cold, like a blade pressed to your lower back, your spine arching even further.
“Stay still.” He said, bending to your ear. “If you move I’m gonna whip you.” He said minaciously.
He didn’t expect a reply, so you didn’t offer any. Cold liquid slid down the crevasse between your shoulder blades, sliding down the dip connecting your neck to your ass. Then something hot and soft appeared at the saddle of your back, where it reached the lowest spot. You put two and two together.
He was doing body shots down your spine.
You were sure when something that must have been his tongue slid all the way up to your nape. “Delicious.” He said, his hand placing down the empty glass on the counter, his erection pressing against your ass. “Let’s see if you can take it.” He murmured, standing straight and tugging at your hair until you were perched on your elbows, his reflection and yours appearing in the mirror in front of you. Which reflected the mirror behind you. Which allowed you to see Taehyung’s handsome figure.
He licked his lip and tipped his head back, looking at you cockily before gripping his hard on, rubbing the soft, velvety head against your labia, spreading your wetness before he let the tip sink in.
You moaned desperately. “Oh god.” You called, closing your eyes and looking away.
He gave a sharp tug at your hair. “Look how good you take my cock.” He said, staying perfectly still until he saw your eyes open through the reflection in the mirror.
“Please.” You begged weakly.
“What?” He asked.
“Please, sir. I’d like you to wreck me, sir.” You whined, pleading for his harsh ministrations, looking at him through the mirror.
He grinned and sunk all the way in.
You screamed.
He spanked you.
You took it with a tiny hiccup.
“Does my cock feel that good?” He asked, backing out.
“Yes, sir.” You replied meekly.
He slammed in again. “This is how you like it?” He asked sadistically, beginning to drive his hips into yours with a punishing pattern.
“Yes, sir. Please.”
“You’re such a slut for this cock.” He said, gritting his teeth, the veins at his neck bulging as his tendons flexed.
“I’m your slut, sir.” You said, ready to cry for him, completely shameless.
He grinned evilly. “Just for my cock. Such a horny fuckdoll.” He teased, delivering one more spank and making you arch your back, the tip of his cock hitting the most perfect spot, “drooling for my cock. Spitting in my mouth. Riding my face.” He rammed in even more furiously, your brow furrowing as you stared at the view of his back muscles flexing as he railed you, his glutes flashing as he hammered into you recklessly. “You’re such a dirty slut. You love being spanked, don’t you?” He asked, landing a loud smack on your other asscheek.
“I do, sir. Please, sir, please please… pl— I’m— Oh, sir.”
He went even harder, his middle finger reaching your clit and rubbing it as fast as he could. “Is this what you want? To cum on this cock? You want my fingers, little fuckdoll?” He asked deviously. “You’re such a pretty nymph. Living to get fucked.”
As you tried to turn toward him and lock your eyes with his, looking for reassurance, you spotted the side mirror, offering you the whole scene as it appeared on the right side. You ended up hypnotised by the motion of his cock sliding in and out too fast for your unfocused eyes to actually capture the whole vision.
Your high crested before you even felt it grow. It overthrew you, your arms failing you, your knees bending and your thighs pressing together.
Taehyung had none of it. His hand forcefully parted your legs again before landing a hard spank on your labia.
“Stay still and take my cock.” He said, angrily keeping his hand on your clit and rubbing it faster while he made you stand straighter, your tits appearing in the mirror in front of you, bouncing as he rammed violently into you.
The high didn’t stop. It grew even more.
He felt you milk him harder and harder. “Cum again, nymph. Cum on my cock again. Make it rain and wet the fucking floor.” He said, growling at your ear. “Look at those tits. So fucking good.” He growled, just as you shook your head in complete helplessness. “I’m gonna suck them like a baby before I fall asleep.” He said, gently slapping one until his strokes became irregular and even more ruthless.
You pushed your own hips hard against him until you finally felt that uncomfortable sensation leave your womb, eyes closing, shoulders collapsing, knees shaking and wobbling until they completely gave out, Taehyung’s body following yours and saving you from the tap as your torso landed against the sink, your legs spasming and leaving the floor as you screamed Taehyung’s name, his hand strumming your clit until you went completely silent and he heard you sob and pant. “Tae.” You called, voice thin before every sensation stopped.
You awoke to Taehyung’s hand touching your face.
“Lace, darling.” He called, “____, love.” He murmured against your ear.
First you realised your legs hurt. Like you had done too much exercise. Next, you realised he wasn’t inside you still. Some part of you felt cold.
“Tae.” You said, confused.
“Oh, baby.” He said, smiling his biggest boxy smile, touching your cheek again, dragging your hair off your eyes. “Are you okay, dove?” He asked, simply looking at you.
You nodded, confused. “I think I blacked out?” You said, trying to stand straight.
He was immediately close to you holding your hand and offering you his body as your support. “You did, love.” He confirmed. “Are you okay?” He asked again, just as you felt your foot land on a wet patch on the floor.
“Did I… ?” You asked, looking at the small puddle there.
“Yeah… ” He smiled sheepishly. “I have your blanket if you’d like.” He said, hugging you to himself.
You shook your head. “Shower?” You asked.
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
He opened the glass door and switched on the soft lights there, set them to the softest tone and helped you in, holding your hand as he used the other to open the tap and test the water for the right temperature. He grabbed your hair tie near the body wash and offered it to you.
“We’ll just rinse real quick, yeah?” He said, leading you under the spray and pouring a small amount of soap in his hands, foaming in up and rubbing it against your legs, before reaching your crotch. “I’ll go easy here,” he warned before his hand skimmed your skin, making sure that you weren’t dripping his seed anymore. Once he was done there, he rinsed his hands and poured some more body wash, repeating the procedure and removing any stain of wine from your back. Satisfied, he pulled you into his arms. “I love you so much, Lace.” He murmured in your ear. “You’re safe here, love.” He reassured you, protecting you. “You are beautiful and strong and sexy.” He said, healing any wound he had caused with his dirty talking, putting you together after pulling you apart. “You are worthy of affection, and respect and love.” He said, watching as you turned and tried to clean him up yourself, his messy eye makeup dribbling down his cheeks.
Once done with the shower, he wrapped you up in his bathrobe, a bit too big for you, making you feel hugged and extra-pampered.
He patted your head with one hand as he removed what was left of his mascara and eyeshadow. And then he placed an arm around you, back hugging you as you both brushed your teeth, his body clad in a towel before he swapped it for a pair of boxers and a sleeping shirt.
“Let’s put you into this.” He said, grabbing one of his robes from his sleeping clothes and wrapping you up in it, lacing your hands with his as you both reached the kitchen.
You stayed silent as he helped you sit on the counter, standing between your legs as he reached for a bottle of water and two glasses, stretching to reach your sleeping pills. He offered you a glass and got a pill ready, passing it to you once he managed to work it open. “There you go, love.”
You nodded and downed the pill, forcing yourself to finish the large cup of water, just as he downed his own, looking at you and making sure that you drank it all.
You placed the cup down and hugged him, waiting for him to finish.
He took your hand in his again, keeping you as close to him as possible as he brought the cups to the sink and led the two of you back to the bedroom.
You climbed the bed absentmindedly as he entered the closet, coming out with a rather large tiger plushie and a fluffy blanket with a polar bear print.
Crawling close to you, he waited for you to remove the robe and slide underneath the covers. Next he threw the blanket on top of your body, making sure that it stayed close to your face. After that, he placed the plushie in your arms, tucking the blanket tight. On his bedside table, he switched on the air purifier, the gentle scent of pine filling the room.
The lights went off.
His body came closer to yours and you cuddled in absentmindedly, his limbs tightening around your shape, warming you up immediately.
“I love you, Lace.” He said, again.
“I love you too,” you replied softly before a yawn.
“My pretty dove. Beautiful dove. My angel… My fairy… My joy… My peace...” And with a litany of sweet praises whispered in your ear, you fell asleep like a baby.
#bangtan hq#kim taehyung x reader#kim taehyung smut#kim taehyung x yn#taehyung fanfiction#bts smut#bts blog
171 notes
·
View notes
Photo
An Uncertain Alliance
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic- this scene occurs at the start of Ch. 11 (romantic route- picking one was hard!). Approx 3000 words of fluff and stuff.
First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden
Previous: Fox Hunt
Mitsuhide took a few more days in Kyoto to wrap up his business. He could have managed most with letters, but he wanted to be here for any reply from Mouri. The madman’s participation wasn’t a requirement to move forward, but his access to men and weapons would make life so much simpler. And it was an excuse to pamper his little mouse.
Not that he let her know that was his objective. To her it was just happenstance that their trip to visit an informant passed by a beautiful garden or a talented street performer. Or that the tea shop they stopped in surprisingly carried her favorite snacks. Her joy was Mitsuhide’s pleasure. He stored every memory of her delighted smiles and happy sighs. The look in her eyes when something took her breath away.
And so he was almost disappointed the day the letter came, informing him Mouri would meet him at an upcoming festival in Kyoto. Mitsuhide didn’t want to discuss Mouri with his little one. Besides, he wasn’t sure what he could say that would do justice to the man and his reputation. So all he told her was that they’d be going to the festival together.
It was a good location for a contact. Any city guards would be busy keeping order and no one there would likely know either of them on sight. Plus, the crowds would make it hard to get away with any violent double-cross. Still, it made him uneasy.
Meeting Mouri in a place he chose meant trusting there was no trap. And trusting Mouri was like expecting a rabid dog not to bite. Or, not to bite you anyway.
“Are you worried about our mission,” she asked him as they walked through the crowded festival avenues.
Mitsuhide glanced down at her and smiled. “No - not about our mission.” His little mouse looked as if she might squeak up again, so he added, “Let’s not think about it and just enjoy the festival together, hm?”
She frowned. “How can I not think about it? I mean, the sho-ah, shark-eyes, is planning our destruction as we speak!”
“As we are planning his.” He stopped and faced her. “Right now, I am more interested in plotting a pleasant evening with you.” The half-truth stung, but he needed her to relax. To smile. To be his light. Because he knew he would do terrible, dark things still and without that balance, he would lose this sliver of peace they’d made together.
His little one blinked, surprised by the intensity of his response. “Oh. Well, that does sound nice . . .”
“Look,” Mitsuhide pointed toward a nearby food stall. “Candy sculptures.” The distraction worked as intended. Her gaze lit on the delicate confections, twisted around sticks into all kinds of shapes.
She clapped her hands together in excitement. “They are so pretty! Can we get one?”
“We can get as many as you like,” he chuckled, letting her lead him to the stall. While she was ogling the display, he asked for two crane candies. Cranes were life-mates. Bonded from the moment they touched. He wasn’t sure she would understand the symbolism, but that was alright.
Then they walked on, hand in hand, enjoying the sugary treat.
“I’m glad you decided to bring me here,” she said after a moment.
“Well, it was you that reminded me humans - and kitsune - cannot go on without rest.” Mitsuhide watched her from the corner of his eye. She was finally smiling. Her small, pink tongue darted out to taste the candied crane. It made him want to kiss her. To taste the sugar on her lips, which would be far sweeter than the confection in his hand. He quite suddenly wished they were back in their room at the inn.
“Good.” She grinned over at him and bumped her hip against his leg. “So, why cranes? There were horses and dragons. Those colorful fish ones.”
A slight blush stained his cheeks as he realized she might have caught on to his choice. He cleared his throat. “Did you know that cranes mate for life?” He used the candy to ‘kiss’ her cheek.
Her eyes went wide and her smile was soft and full of affection. She raised her candy up to give him a kiss on the lips.
Mitsuhide took advantage of the moment to ‘kiss’ the crane back, which brought a rosy color to her cheeks too. The moment ended all too soon though. He saw the man they were here to meet approaching. Tall, and limned in red-lantern light that stained him blood-red. Motonari Mouri.
��Look,” he gestured toward the figure. “That is one of our potential allies. What lucky -”
“So this is the real reason we came to the festival. I knew it had to be more than a fun night out!” She looked up at him, eyes dancing. “You can’t fool me, kitsune.”
Mitsuhide smiled fondly. “I suppose not. But a nice evening with you is also part of the plan. This is just the part I didn’t mention earlier.”
Her gaze went back to Mouri. “Who is he? What does he do?”
“Hmm. I suppose you could call him an artisan of violence. A creatively murderous fighter. I almost shudder to think of the horrors awaiting anyone that crosses him.” Mitsuhide’s tone was playful, but he was deadly serious about Mouri. He wanted her to understand this was not a kind soul they were allying with, but a killer.
His little one nodded once, squaring her shoulders. She might have asked more, but Mouri was too close now for further conversation.
“I gotta say, Kyoto knows how to have a festival.” Motonari greeted them with his usual swagger. “Nice as it is, this place is gonna be yer funeral if I don’t like what ya got to say. Savvy?” He took in Mitsuhide with a wary glance and then looked to the chatelaine. Where his eyes lingered longer than necessary.
Mitsuhide felt his jaw twitch and did his best to restrain the reaction.
His little one took a step back, her face going pale. This only encouraged Mouri.
“Who’s yer little friend here, eh?” Motonari took a step closer to her, raising a hand as if he was going to touch her.
Mitsuhide stepped between them smoothly. “This is my fiancee.”
Motonari grinned wider. “You brought your little lady to parley. With me.” He laughed, a sound edged with madness. “I like a man that doesn’t respect the rules.”
The chatelaine poked her head around to look at Mouri.
“My love, this is Motonari Mouri. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” Which he was because he’d given her that lesson himself.
“Of course.” She came out to stand beside him, putting her brave face on. “You conquered the whole south but . . . I thought you died?”
Mouri laughed again. “I gotta say, the best part o’ that introduction is the bit where yer eyes went wide with horror.”
Mitsuhide did not appreciate the way Mouri’s gaze swept up and down his little mouse, or the rise of his brows as he tried - in his crude way - to flirt. “Yes, she is a delight isn’t she? Touch her and you’ll leave this meeting with one less hand.” A crude threat for a crude man . . . or so he rationalized.
“That so? Guess it depends on how many parts you plan ta leave behind.” Motonari threw back his head, laughing so hard he shook.
The chatelaine interrupted with a polite cough. “If - if I may ask - how did you two meet?”
“Until recently, we were both in the service of Shogun Ashikaga Yoshiaki,” Mitsuhide replied. He didn’t want to give Mouri the opportunity to characterize their relationship, such as it was.
Motonari got control of himself in time to nod, adding. “I slipped out before Mitsuhide here. But I promised him a good bloodbath before I left.” He wiped a fleck of spittle from his lip. “So, out with it. Why’d you invite me to meet?”
Mitsuhide watched Mouri slide his gloved hands into his jacket. He took out a pistol and spun it lazily, waiting for an answer. “Motonari, there’s no need to play coy. You know why I contacted you. You watched my little drama play out at Honnoji, from start to unsatisfying finish.” He pointedly did not look directly at the gun and kept his expression one of thin-lipped indifference.
“Mind-reader. No wonder people get so twitchy around you.” Mouri shrugged one shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “You want help killing the shogun.”
“Very much so.”
Mouri pointed the pistol at Mitsuhide. “Does it get drafty in that big empty space o’ yer head? I didn’t come here tonight to get disappointed!”
The chatelaine bit her lip and looked for a moment as if she might run. Mitsuhide could feel the way her body tensed, but she held still.
All he did was raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What part of this disappoints?”
Motonari scoffed. “How ‘bout the whole damn thing? Tell ya what - I got one goal. Just one. And that’s ta get you and Kenshin. Shingen. Nobunaga. Hell, anyone worth a damn, into one big, bloody melee.” His lips twitched into a half smile. “If everyone’s not trying to kill each other, then it’s not much of a party!”
He gestured at Mitsuhide with his gun. “Ya think I’m gonna waste my time with some small fry like the shogun? I should shoot you right here, right now, in place o’ asking fer an apology. In fact.” He stroked the unlit fuse.. “I think I will.” Mouri pressed the barrel against Mitsuhide’s head, digging the iron into his skin.
Mitsuhide knew his little one was contemplating some mad attempt to ‘rescue’ him and rather than reply to Motonari, he first looked at her. Waiting to see a slight nod that meant she understood she was to stay still. He had this handled. In fact, it was going better than he’d expected. Mouri was playing right into his hands.
“I see. You plan to leave the shogun free to roam, ensuring that your long dreamed of bloodbath remains only a fantasy.” Mitsuhide sighed. “I expected better from you.”
Mouri raised an eyebrow. His pistol didn’t so much as twitch.
“Surely you see it.” Mitsuhide waited a beat, then continued. “The shogun will never engage with Nobunaga - or any of his enemies - in open combat. If he did, he might lose. Instead he will seek to assassinate them, one at a time. Subtly. An accident here, a mysterious illness there. Until there are none left to take the field. No celebration. No battle. Only quiet, pathetic deaths. One enemy after another. Who knows, perhaps he would even target you.”
“I’m not afraid of him.” Motonari’s defiant reply was somewhat spoiled by the nervous way he licked his lips.
Mitsuhide smiled. “Of course not. But your bloodbath will be severely lacking when there is no one there to bleed. A good party requires . . . guests - does it not?”
Mouri chuckled. “Ya got a silver tongue. But it’ll be so much viscera on the paving stones when I pull this trigger.”
“Mhmm. I imagine parts of me would travel quite far. Perhaps spattering the food stall there, or some of those festival-goers.”
“They told me you were tricky, kitsune. But no one mentioned you were mad.” Motonari closed the distance between them until he was close enough to kiss.
Mitsuhide stared into the depths of his red glare, imitating the madman’s own body language. Gold on scarlet glinted in the light of the festival lanterns in this space of tense silence.
Then Motonari started laughing. His breath smelled of sake and tobacco. “Alright. Ya got me. I’m in, just this once.” And he lowered his pistol.
Mitsuhide watched as the madman carefully wiped down the barrel and placed it back in the holster. His hand found the chatelaine’s icy fingers. He gripped her hand tightly. She was alright and so was he. The gambit had paid off.
“The only place I’ll let Nobunaga and the rest die is in a sea of blood and gunpowder. By my hand.” Motonari sounded certain as he said this. As sure as he would be telling them the sun would rise in the east.
“Then I believe we have a deal.” Mitsuhide knew the bargain would only last so long as Mouri saw the necessity of it. And stayed entertained. Hopefully they could locate the shogun quickly and be done with this.
Motonari gave a snort that might be agreement, then gestured to the candy Mitsuhide still held. “Say, why don’t ya treat yer new ally to some o’ that fancy candy, huh?”
“You . . . want candy?” Mitsuhide couldn’t help the ways his eyebrows rose.
“Yeah. So run along and get some fer me. The lady an’ I will wait fer ya right here.” Mouri took a step toward the chatelaine.
Mitsuhide didn’t need to be psychic to know what ran through his little mouse’s head. It was written in her face in large, panicked script. ‘Don’t leave me alone with this maniac!’ The kitsune thought fast. “I am sure I could deliver a better token of friendship to you at a later da-”
“I ain’t asking fer a better token o’ whatever.” His voice rasped and his hand moved toward the holster of his gun again.
That was the problem with unstable allies. They couldn’t be relied on. Even the simplest things could set them off. Any situation could become a violent one at the drop of a pin. But what bothered Mitsuhide the most was this. There was only one reason for this particular request. Mouri wanted to be alone with the chatelaine. Why?
“Yer girl will still be here when ya get back.” Motonari smiled like a shark. A hungry one.
“Go ahead, Mitsu. Get him some candy. I’ll be fine.” She gave Mitsuhide an uneasy smile.
“I’ll be right back.” It made him feel ill to say it but Mitshide knew it would be better to go along with the madman than to fight him on such a small request. And besides, if he tried anything, the chatelaine would scream. Then, Mouri would lose more than his life. So it was reasonably safe to leave them for a few minutes.
Mitsuhide glanced back at them as he hurried away. Mouri was sitting beside the chatelaine now, almost close enough for his hip to touch hers. Bile surged in his belly. No one should be so close to his little mouse. No one but him. Just hurry up, he told himself. Hurry and get back.
He found a closer stall with the same kinds of candy and picked out a fish for Motonari. Then hurried back. His little one was smiling at the madman and Mouri looked . . . confused. Jealousy burned through his veins in a wave, and he almost ran the last few steps, shoving the stick of candy between the two of them. “There. Your candy. Now get away from her.”
The last sentence was almost a growl, and Mitsuhide couldn’t help the way he reached for his little one. Pulled her close. She was his, her smile and her laugh. Her kind eyes. Mouri deserved to be close to none of it.
Even as the jealousy burned through him, a colder, more logical part of Mitsuhide scolded him for his rash behavior. This was not like him at all. This display. What did it hurt, even if Motonari was flirting with the chatelaine? Nothing, really. Except . . . except Mitsuhide didn’t want her to be anywhere near that madman. She could get hurt. Not just physically - but her heart and her sweet spirit. He had to protect her.
Motonari seemed unaffected as he took the stick of candy and popped it in his mouth. “There’s somethin’ wrong with yer lady friend. She’s crazier’n I am,” he said around the stick.
“There is nothing wrong with her. She is perfect.” The words were out before he’d even had time to consider his response. This was . . . odd. He never spoke without thinking. Never.
“That so? Cause from here it looks like her madness is contagious. Gettin’ worse from person to person.” He chomped down on the candy, crushing the spun sugar figure between his teeth.
Mitshide’s first instinct was to slap the sweet out of his mouth and break his teeth with a well-placed elbow. But he held himself still, rigid. His heart was beating fast and he felt hot - shaky. Acting now would be . . . ill-advised.
Motonari shook his head and stood up. He addressed the chatelaine. “Better hope yer man doesn’t get tripped up by his love-addled brain. If he does,” he took the candy out of his mouth and pointed toward her with the jagged, chewed end. “I’ll fall on you.”
This threat was more than Mitsuhide could stand still for. He pushed his little one behind him and grabbed the hilt of his sword. “You will stay away from her! If you take a step closer to her - now or ever - I will remove your head from your neck.” The words were a barely audible snarl.
If Mouri was worried about this, it didn’t show. He only smiled his shark-like grin. “Where’d your disguise go, kitsune? Your real face is showing now. Barking like a fox in a trap.”
Mitsuhide tried to get control of his breath. To push the murderous rage in his chest back down. To slide his mask back into place.
From behind him, his little one hugged his back. “There’s nothing to worry about. My Mitsuhide won’t trip up.”
Motonari shrugged. “We’ll see.” Then he was walking away, swagger firmly in place.
Mitsuhide watched him go, and when he was out of sight, finally let go of his sword hilt. He was shaking. He turned to wrap his arms around his little one. Feeling her warm body pressed tight, the steady rhythm of heartbeat and breath, calmed him. She was here and safe and his.
“Are you alright,” she asked, her voice muffled against him.
“Yes. I . . . I’m fine.” But he wasn’t. This was only the first of several dangerous meetings they would need to undergo in this quest to see the shogun taken down. There would be more meetings with Mouri and others. He had to find a way to control this - this response of his. Otherwise Motonari was right.
Next: Future-Speak
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen mitsuhide#Mitsuhide Akechi#ikesen motonari#otome guys#otome#fanfiction#fanfic
100 notes
·
View notes
Note
I was thinking about the difference between Kyle and Ryan last night. Kyle seems to be: we have this cool things how can it service the characters and the story? While Ryan seems to be: Cool thing? Throw it in there let’s keep going
part of my frustration with how the fandom treated Kyle has always been how his cool things made 100% sense in the context of the story but they were always dismissed by fandom because it involved Tommy. which is what i mean when i brought up the period when the MMPRs turned green - it made sense for the plot to move forward (the rangers need powers to reclaim their zords) and it was tied to character development (Tommy learns when he has to sit back and trust the team to handle things instead of going at it alone)
with Ryan it's harder to pin the purpose of that cool stuff down, especially now in the relaunch. it's a little funny bc he actually just tweeted something very closely worded to your ask; about how he's been accused of using fan service but he argues that it's not fan service if it serves the characters and is relevant to the story. which i agree with! that's what we mean about Kyle's work!
but in this particular context....what fanservice are you talking about here? bringing back the Green Ranger? how has that been necessary to the story or to the characters beyond propping up M/tt and putting down Tommy? i guess how we'll inevitably get the Dragonzord/White Tigerzord combination for the big battle with the Empyreals, but that doesn't make it necessary to include a new Green Ranger, especially when Promethea ALREADY HAD their own giant robot they could have used (and also Tommy learning to """accept Matt's help"""" will not be character development for him, especially when the full context of it is him having legitimate problems with Matt that everyone ignores). Zordon vs Zedd is the closest i can agree with of fanservice that was necessary to this story, but even that was weakened by the story flip-flopping on Zedd's motives regarding Zordon (how their past was never a factor before this, how he didn't care about not getting Zordon in the dome arc, how in the flashbacks he wanted revenge on Zordon because he thought he betrayed him vs how in the present he knows Zordon didn't; but now suddenly he's all I'VE WAITED FOR THIS MY WHOLE LIFE)
idk. it's always been weird listening to Ryan or reading his interviews because it's like he's talking about a completely different story than what we get in the actual books
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Watchers in the Shadows
Another plot important story, with the what I am terming the Shadowed Lords. I have also found a solution to the very important question of “How to make sure the Inquisition just doesn’t murder everyone.” I own none of these characters. Enjoy.
“History requires two parties - the historian and their audience. Without that, one is just talking to oneself. So kindly stop screaming and you might learn something.” - Trazyn the Infinite, guiding human guests through the Prismatic Gallery
“It is our duty to protect those who are important to future events, those who might save the face of the galaxy, those chosen by prophecy - blah blah blah. I’m just here to kill things.” -Revenant
Aboard the Novus Galactica
The Watch Fortress was a miracle of human technology and ingenuity. This particular one was mobile, a great boon for its occupants. As soon as diplomats and Inquisitors were dispatched to these strange, newly found galaxies, it had been deemed by the High Lords of Terra that a permanent force of Throne Agents should be stationed in each. Unfortunately for the Imperium of Man, and, perhaps fortunately for everyone else, they were currently only able to transfer a small amount of the resources they wanted to one singular galaxy. At the moment. The time would come when they would fully operate there, the agents of the Imperium hiding in every shadow, behind every crevice, always watching, always waiting. The fight against the xeno, mutaint, and heretic never ended, after all, and these new galaxies provided ample examples of each.
The newly anointed Lady Inquisitor Amberley Vail stood on the tiled stone floor of the Watch Fortress, looking out high cathedral windows into the black void of space. Inquisitors were all technically equals, though in practice some were more equal than others. Senior and powerful Inquisitors were given the honorary prefix Lord or Lady to denote that they were, in fact, just a little more equal than their peers. Since she had been the first to discover, and make contact with these eight new galaxies, it would be her duty to oversee all investigations in them. A great honor.
At the time, though, Vail would just be investigating each one in turn until more Inquisitors could be spared. Already she was given her choice in team, and her retinue was here, with more hand-picked agents to come. And, of course, the operatives the High Lords and Ordo Xenos had seen fit to give her. With the technology found in these new places, she could now contact the High Lords directly, if necessary, and they could monitor her progress. As such, they had seen it fit to grant the Watch Fortress a cadre of Officio Assassinorum operatives, one from each Temple. They were in cryo storage below, except the Vanus operative, currently hard at work gathering every scrap of data she could.
Should she require pure power instead of singular agents, a Kill Team of the dreaded Deathwatch was on hand. They were newly formed and called up, but each member was hand-chosen by the Inquisition, and, if rumors were to be believed, the Custodian Guard themselves. Right now, they were settling into their new home, their weapons drills already ringing through the training spaces. The Kill Team also served a second, more sinister purpose: if Vail was to go rogue for whatever reason, they had orders to hunt her down and destroy her. She harbored no illusions of their ability, and, of course, had no intention of turning traitor. Better had fallen than her, though, so she did appreciate the contingency.
At the moment, more Marine heavy weaponry and armored vehicles were on the way, along with a regiment of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers. More things to be added to the armory of the Imperium in this new galaxy.
Vail paced, then went to her cognator, located next to the Vanus operative, still absorbed in her work. She sat down, and began to type. Secrets would be revealed, and the Inquisition would act upon them.
Unknown Location
The room was dark, as it always was, only illuminated by the blinding glory of a nearby star. No one came here, no one knew of its existence except two organizations. Two organizations that almost none knew of. A massive man, power armored bulk hidden by a simple white robe, sword strapped on to his chest, stood side by side with another individual clad in black armor and greatcoat. A tight fitting black helmet with glowing red lenses covered the second’s face, and as it spoke, the voice that emanated from within was corrupted and rendered untraceable.
“We must begin. Our list is complete.”
“Unorthodox, yes, but it must be this way,” spoke the second, a reverberating deep base echoing from beneath he white hood. “What of Inquisitor Vail? Should she find… certain things, it would not bode well for our plans.”
“I am handling it as we speak. Drake shows promise. It was good to act that quickly, but in the end, the Shadow Broker, the Mechanicus, the Inquisition, the Scoundrels, ONI, the ISB… none of them are good enough to face us. Vail will hear no word of it. Stability will be preserved. Just as we must preserve the Scoundrels themselves.”
“Indeed. It must be restated: they are key to future events. I suggest we get moving.” With a nod to each other, the two figures disappeared into the shadows.
Unknown Planet
The ground was icy and cold, some dead world in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t even have a name, so remote it had never been discovered. Of course, there were those who could find it, should they really wish to. One such individual stood here, examining strange patterns in the snow. Well-groomed black hair tumbled down to his shoulders, held in place by a circlet of gold. Despite the bone-numbing cold, the man did not shiver, black and green tunic still in the frigid air. A heavy crack of displaced air sounded behind him, and the black haired man turned around, smiling softly to himself.
“Ah. Can I help you?” he said in a polite and cultured voice. The two figures, one massive and wearing a white robe, the other of medium height and wearing a black coat, stepped forward. The black haired man stood, noting the weapons, the size, the strangeness of these newcomers.
“Loki of Asgard. We have need of your skills,” responded a metallic and synthesized voice from the black coated silhouette’s mask. This elicited a small, oh-so-sly smile from the black haired man.
“Yes. I’m sure a great many people do. What’s in it for me?”
“Name your price,” came a deep, reverberating voice. Loki thought quietly to himself, then spoke.
“Done,” replied the tall figure.
“Now, what do you need me for?” asked Loki.
Hammond Robotics Lab-77431
A metallic abomination of red and grey stood above Dr. Marshall. It was humanoid, but all metal; unnaturally tall and spindly. He squirmed quietly, inching away from it on the cold surface of the laboratory floor. Blood was splattered messily over the surface of computer banks and grey plastic workstations. Marshall silently prayed that the guards were on their way. He had just enough time to press the panic button as the… thing slaughtered the two guards and his three colleagues. Now it stood over him, head tilted at an unnatural angle.
“No one is coming to save you. No one ever was.” It’s voice was horrible, gravely, and grating. Marshall whimpered. It spoke again. “You can beg for mercy. It won’t help, but go on.”
“Please… please. I don’t even know what you are! Why would you want to kill me?” The thing snarled and pinned Marshall to the wall with one metallic hand.
“You made me a killing machine. Who am I to argue with programming?” The abomination’s synthetic eyes seemed to glow. “Look into my eyes. I want to remember this.”
“No! NO! No-” The begging cut out with a horrifying, gurgling scream as the thing ripped out his throat. It gave a malicious laugh. A new voice spoke.
“Revenant.” It was a statement. “We have need of your services.” Revenant turned around with a snarl, only to find himself face to face with three of the most odd individuals he’d ever seen. A smooth faced, black haired man in a green and black surcoat, smirking at him. A figure in a black coat and black armor, it’s face hidden behind a mask with glowing red lenses. A giant, wearing a white robe, with a sword strapped to its back, its face hidden behind the robe’s cowl.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand?” sneered Revenant.
“If you can, which I doubt,” replied the black haired man. The figure in the coat held up a gauntleted hand.
“We have need of your services,” it repeated. “As payment, we can fix you or kill you. Your choice. But you must do as we say.” Revenant seemed to consider the deal.
“Done,” he replied eventually.
“Good. Now, there’s work to be done.”
Star Wars Galaxy
Belsavis
Imperial Outpost Planet
The New Republic had, in its infinite wisdom, sent a team of commandos to capture a small Imperial outpost planet in the middle of smack-dab nowhere. Sargent Underwilth was quite displeased by this, as had the entirety of the rest of her commando group, from Private Nikeer all the way up to the Captain. It would be a long, boring, and completely useless mission, and for what purpose? Grab a completely insignificant Imperial fort that could house a battalion and a group of shuttles at the absolute maximum? Why? Send soldiers to die for that? She hated High Command for it. Hate-d. Past tense. At the present moment, she was cursing the name of every single New Republic official she could remember, from the major who had briefed them to Princess Leia herself. Saying things had gotten a bit out of hand would be the understatement of the millenia.
“I need fire at 1-2-7-4! Immediate effect, whatever you’ve got!” screamed the comms chatter. The Imperial stormtroopers crouched next to her looked warily in the direction of the lieutenant whose scream was cut short over the comms. Captain Pai, the commando leader, was dead. Major Vekk, commander of the Imperial garrison, was now in charge of both the stormtrooper and commando contingent. Underwilth had never thought she would be fighting side by side with stormtroopers. They were terrible shots and propaganda-fueled idiots, holding on to the crumbling remnants of a tyrant. Desperate times, though, called for desperate measures. She nodded at her mixed group of Republic and Imperial soldiery, and, as one, they stepped over the ledge of the wall they were crouched behind. A withering storm of blaster bolts rent the air, many going wide as their users panicked. It was enough though.
The bolts slammed into the metal abomination, many ricocheting harmlessly off its bones with high pitched pings! Underwilth had no idea what these things were, or why they were here. The commando team had landed, everything going well, and had infiltrated the fortress, only for an army of metal skeletons to show up. They were spindly and humanoid in appearance, with elongated skulls and arms much thinner than a human. Their odd appearance didn’t matter, though. Horrible weapons had rotated, spitting sickly green beams of light at the now combined defenders. Everything that was touched by those beams died. Captain Pai was disintegrated where he stood. Atomized without a sound.
The defenders had fought back with everything in their arsenal. Blasters didn’t work. Grenades didn’t work. Cryo bombs didn’t work. Only massive, coordinated firepower would stop these undying invaders.
Scorch marks appeared on the metal skeleton that Underwilth’s group drowned in fire. More and more blaster bolts found their mark, staggering it. Underwilth screamed at them to keep firing. Eventually, slowly, it toppled into the dirt. Underwilth’s group let out a great cheer. It died in their throats when they saw what was happening. The metal abomination, light faded from its eyes and limbs blown off, glowed with the same sickly green light as its eyes and weapons. Limbs reattached themselves. Blaster pockmarks faded. Internal wiring affixed itself. It stood, and glowing green eyes snapped on once more.
Beneath the Surface of Belsavis
Trazyn the Infinite, Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty, Archoevist of Solomance, and Curator of the Prismatic Galleries walked through the underground tomb complex covered by the Imperial outpost. He had come to... acquire the artifacts, weapons, and species in the tomb underneath. Unfortunately, a group of the idiotic humans that inhabited this galaxy had decided to build a fortress right on top of it. He didn’t even spend the processing power wondering about the humans. Mere insects. His soldiers were there to defend his archaeological expedition, and if the humans wanted to attack them, well, that was their problem.
Trazyn was, quite frankly, disappointed over this particular galaxy. It wasn’t that there weren’t ancient and important treasures to plunder: no, far from it. The things he could find here almost rivaled his own galaxy. Almost. It wasn’t that.
It was that the people of this place had absolutely zero appreciation for history. It was utterly infuriating. Trazyn was the historian. The lives of entire species meant nothing to him. He was as old as the stars themselves, able to see eons as they stretched out in front of him. The reason he did any of this in the first place was to preserve history before time or battle erased it. His entire planet was one massive museum, with exhibits stretching back some 60 billion years before the planet Earth even existed. But these people? They didn’t teach history. Didn’t preserve history. To borrow a human expression, didn’t give one singular, flying fuck about it. His mind frowned in distaste over the crude word. It was nevertheless true. The inhabitants of this place had merely forgotten the Old Republic, the government that ruled the galaxy only thirty years ago. The Jedi Knights were myths. The Clone Wars were bedtime legends. Trazyn ground his metal teeth in frustration. Thirty years. That was a microsecond. That was about the time a standard Necron court case lasted. Even the humans, short-lived insects that they were, should remember that long. After all, they usually lived between sixty to a hundred, did they not? Simply no respect for the past here.
The other galaxies were not like this. The humans of one galaxy even remembered events some two thousand years prior. That galaxy was the one with the Makers. A battle between gods and demons. He had already been to a Maker lab, and taken the dark artifact from the homeworld of the Celzex. Along with half the guard on duty at the time. And the throne. They wouldn’t miss it. Probably.
He was getting off track. Despite the idiots of this place not knowing what it was, this place was magnificent. The architecture, the stone, the instriptions and technology… oh, yes. If Trazyn had still possessed a mortal body, he would be grinning like a buffoon now. He wanted everything.
The tomb had once belonged to the Rakata Infinite Empire. He sneered at the name.
“There can only be one Infinite, and only one Infinite Empire. And you, my friends, are no longer among the living,” he told a statue. The Empire had, at its apex, controlled a great deal of the galaxy and possessed technologies and ancient wonders not seen since. An entire species, called the Esh-Ka, had been trapped here in status for nigh thirty millenia by the ancient Rakata. Nothing compared to Trazyn, but he appreciated the gesture of the long dead civilization nonetheless. Ancient Rakata warlords, soldiers, status, glyphs, tablets, weapons, enemies, technology… everything. This was a prison world, and the Rakata built it to last. Now, though… now it was Trazyn’s time to shine. He took everything he could, the walls and massive scripts cut away by his personal bodyguard. Everything went into tesseract labyrinths. These were small black cubes, about the size of Trazyn’s fist. They pulsed with darkness, ever wishing to suck things into their voids. These cubes were gateways to pocket dimensions, and Trazyn had long used them to capture specimens from his museum.
He hummed as he worked, nearly giddy with excitement. If there had been any watchers, they would have found the sight of the ancient necron lord almost dancing with exhilaration to be quite funny. As he loaded the last of the Rakata imprisoned within the tomb, there was a flash of green light behind him. It’s coloration was similar to the eyes and weaponry of the necrons, yet only the discharge of his bodyguards’ gauss flayers could have made such a sight, and Trazyn knew for a fact none of them had. He whirled around, only to be met with a very strange sight.
Four individuals stood between him and his guards. One was obviously a synthetic, tall and spindly with red and grey limbs. This one glowered mechnicgly at Trazyn, but he laughed it off. You didn’t know a good glower until you’ve stood on the wrong side of a Star God. The second was human, smirking from behind shoulder length black hair and a black and green tunic. The third waas masked, armored, and coated, and stood at simple attention, unbothered by the necrons that lowered their gauss flayers at its back. The last, though…
“Lord Cypher,” said Trazyn with a bow. The massive man in white noticeably stiffened. “A pleasure to have you here. Ah, yes. I know who you are, of course. Don’t be surprised. You would make a fine addition to my collection,” he mused. Trazyn looked up, noticeably more perky. “Is that why you’re here? Have you come to give yourself up? Ready to be a part of history?” The massive man, Cypher, glared at him.
“We have need of your help, Lord Trazyn. After you are…” he looked around, noticing the completely empty walls of the tomb, “Done here, we wish to speak with you. Your… expertise is necessary.” Trazyn grinned, the necrodermis teeth of his death mask coming together. A necron grinning was a very bizarre sight.
“Ah, you flatter me, Lord Cypher. And from one who has bedeviled the Imperium for ten thousand years and fought the Deceiver himself, such flattery is most appreciated. However,” Trazyn gestured around, “As you can see, my work consumes me. I’m afraid history stops for no one. Except you.” He held out a tesseract labyrinth, his voice flowing with mischief.
“Wait!” replied Cypher. “We have need of your help,” he repeated. “If you do not join us, then events will transpire that will result in the eventual destruction of reality,” he stated calmly, as if he were simply talking about the weather. “It might not happen now, or later, or even in a century, or millenia, but I know for certain it will happen. Everything you hold dear, everything you have worked so hard for over these billions of years, will be gone. If you help us, we will most likely succeed, and in payment we will offer to you the greatest treasures in the universe.” Cypher held out a hand. “So what say you, Trazyn the Infinite? Are you ready to change history for once, instead of just cataloging it?” Trazyn pondered a moment, his neural circuitries firing faster than any mortal could keep up. Eventually, he took the hand.
“I accept.”
And there we are. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, questions, or requests, feel free to contact me! Wherever you are, have a great day!
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
The past is never dead. It’s not even past
Bozer and Riley knew, logically, that Mac and Jack would share some bad memories. They weren't expecting to stumble across one while they were busy planning some R&R over the Pacific Ocean.
Also on AO3 ->
..
Bozer was still getting used to the idea of going on actual, honest-to-god missions for a US government covert agency, but even he had to admit, this one sounded pretty simple. Mac and Jack apparently had some sort of aversion to the word - the instant Riley had said it earlier, the pair of them had looked a heartbeat away from running for the hills - but all of them had had to agree that being tasked to fly to the other side of the world and sit around surveilling a suspected dead drop was about as plain sailing as it was ever going to get. They didn’t even have to confront anyone who approached said dead drop, just record and report it.
The result was, unsurprisingly, Riley and Bozer planning what they were going to do with the ample free time they were sure to have. Jack had initially made some attempt at reining them in, reminding them that as easy as it may seem, they were going there to do some actual work, but he’d given up some time ago and now seemed content to listen to them plotting in peace. Amused, Mac had just watched the whole conversation play out without a word.
It wasn’t until Bozer and Riley had spent a solid ten minutes arguing about the possible pros and cons of a natural mud spa that the blonde figured it was time to intervene. “You two know that at most Matty’s going to give us a few hours of R&R before she calls us home. All of this planning is going to go to waste.”
“If that,” Jack put in with only a touch of sullenness. “Remember that time in Trinidad? We didn’t even get a full ten minutes before we had to be back on the plane.”
Mac wrinkled his nose at the memory. His recollection was foggy given that they had more or less crawled back to the landing strip and then passed out the instant they were off the ground, but then, that was really the point Jack was making. “Right? Just saying you shouldn’t get your hopes too high.”
Bozer scowled at them both. “You two have absolutely no faith. I have no idea why Matty thinks all four of us should be on this mission but I for one fully intend to make the most of it. If you want to sit back and be negative, that’s on you.” He let that indictment hang in the air for a minute, then bumped his shoulder against Mac’s. “'Sides, you’re supposed to be helping! You must know all the best sights, right?”
Unexpectedly, that earned him a confused frown. “Should I? Why? I’ve never even been to Fiji.”
Across from them, sprawled out carelessly against his seat, Jack suddenly went rigid. The change was sharp enough that all three of them picked up on it even though the man hadn’t actually moved, staying exactly where he was like a bug under a microscope. Bozer cast a quick glance at Riley but she looked every bit as lost as he did.
Fortunately, Mac was apparently more clued in. “When was I in Fiji, Jack?” He asked quietly, his voice very gentle.
For a very long moment there was no response. Bozer considered answering the question - he’d asked Mac about tourist attractions in the first place because he remembered Mac had holidayed in the South Pacific with Nikki three summers ago - but he’d gotten the sense that maybe this wasn’t a conversation he should involve himself with. Jack still hadn’t so much as twitched and he could feel Mac tensing up beside him.
Eventually, Jack answered with a heavy sigh. “July 2015.”
A short pause. “Ah,” Mac said quietly, his eyes darting to an unremarkable spot on the floor for a second before jumping back to Jack.
The pair of them fell silent, Jack glaring sharply at the ceiling of the plane cabin while Mac watched him steadily. Evidently something significant had just happened, and Bozer had a sneaking suspicion he was at fault for whatever it was, but he didn’t think he could just leave it there. Apparently, neither could Riley. “What happened in July 2015?”
Predictably there was no response, so Bozer offered her the little that he knew. “Mac went on a ‘work trip’,” he said with quotation marks. “I thought he was in Cleveland. Then just when he was due to come home, Nikki called me. Said they were taking a last minute vacation to Fiji and I shouldn’t expect them back for another two weeks. Ended up being gone most of a month.”
At the time, it hadn’t been that weird. Logically he understood that it might sound strange to most people, but Mac had always been a somewhat inconsistent presence in Bozer’s life, even when they were kids. It was just the way he worked: Mac would go where his brain took him and he wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved whatever it was he was hoping to do. In hindsight, that long standing pattern of behaviour must have been a godsend when Mac had joined DXS and Bozer had become part of his cover.
But that was then. Now, he knew the truth of those strangely frequent, unpredictable work trips - except in all the ways that he didn’t. “I take it you weren’t in Fiji,” he asked slowly.
Mac didn’t look away from where Jack was still frozen. “No.”
“Where were you?”
He hummed. “Not entirely sure, to be honest. I think I wound up somewhere in the Ural mountains.”
Bozer tried to work out the most delicate way of asking further and found none. The deadened tone of Mac’s voice would have made it very clear it wasn’t a happy memory even if the fact that he apparently hadn’t known where he was hadn’t given it away, and his eyes hadn’t drifted from where Jack was looking more and more strained.
As Bozer floundered, Riley pressed on. “A mission gone bad?”
“In the worst way,” Mac agreed, then seemed to come awake from some reverie. He blinked, and finally looked away from his partner to take the two of them in. Whatever it was he saw on their faces, he visibly made an effort to make himself smile and relax, shaking off the grim set of his shoulders like an unwanted coat. “We were in Minsk, tasked with surveillance on a human trafficker. Turned out that he was more well-connected than we thought, and some of his friends ended up grabbing me out of our hotel room.” His voice faltered ever so slightly and he bit off whatever he was about to say next.
Bozer did some quick maths and came up feeling ill. “You were gone for a month.”
“I wasn’t with them the whole time,” Mac hurried to reassure, immediately seeing what Boze was getting at. “Jack caught up with me after about ten days.”
“It was too fucking long,” Jack murmured, the first thing he’d said in over a minute. He still hadn’t moved, but he was wearing one of the darkest expressions Bozer had ever seen on his face. “Should have got there sooner. Should never have let them take you in the first place.”
“It wasn’t your fault Jack,” Mac said with the air of someone who had already said it a thousand times, but was willing to repeat it for as long as necessary. “You were on the other side of the city when they found us. We didn’t even know that they knew we were there.” He glanced back at Bozer to explain, “Someone at the CIA leaked information. The target wasn’t supposed to have any idea there were agents in the city, but somehow his guys knew exactly what hotel room to hit. We didn’t get any warning.”
“I knew something was bogus,” Jack said, more to himself than anything. “I said it felt off, and then I fucked off and left you in that hotel on your own.”
“Instinct isn’t everything. We had no reason to suspect the hotel wasn’t safe.”
Jack shook his head sharply and said nothing more. Mac sighed, but didn’t press.
Thoroughly thrown for a loop and feeling more than a little bit guilty for inadvertently touching on what was so obviously a sore point, Bozer cast a wild-eyed look at Riley. She looked little better than he felt, pale in the harsh white of the plane’s overhead lighting. They’d both known that, in theory, Mac and Jack both had years of service behind them and that those years were likely to be host to any number of bad memories, but to have the knowledge of that so suddenly and specifically confirmed was a lot to take in.
“If you were- there for ten days,” Boze started slowly, half-knowing the answer and needing to hear it anyway, “Why were you gone for so long?”
Mac glanced back down at the floor, looking distinctly uncomfortable before he settled himself. “I was in medical for a bit. Once I could shake the oxygen mask, I moved into Jack’s apartment for a few weeks. I would have been good to come home but there was- bruising.” He fumbled over the last word, waving a distracted hand at his face as though that explained anything.
For the first time since they’d broached the topic, Jack moved. He jerked to his feet with a strange lurching step, as though he hadn’t expected to do it himself, then marched towards the back of the plane, shaking his head as he went. Bozer caught the tail end of some dark mutters, but he couldn’t make anything out past the stormcloud of Jack’s expression. Startled, Riley shifted forwards to go after him, but Mac just waved her down, watching Jack’s retreating back with a careful eye before turning back to the two of them.
“He’s okay,” he said, as though that was in any way believable. “It’s not a great memory, for either of us. Despite what it sounds like, he got the worse end of the deal.”
Riley’s eyebrows rose. “You were in captivity for ten days and he had the hard time?”
“I knew he would come after me. He didn’t know what he would find when he got there,” Mac said with a shrug. He’d said it flippantly, like it was some great truth of the universe that was just the Way Things Were. Maybe to him, it was. “Sure, physically I was a mess, but that stuff heals. If I had the choice again, I wouldn’t have switched places with him for anything.”
Bozer was shaking his head slowly, trying to remember details he had brushed off as unimportant years ago. “I remember you coming home. There were bandages on your arm.” A pause, then, accusingly, “You said you got got by a jellyfish.”
Looking down, Mac tugged self-consciously at the cuff of his rolled-up left sleeve, only managing to draw attention to what he was trying to keep hidden. They were faint - so faint as to be almost invisible against his already pale skin - but for the first time Bozer was able to make out a fine tracery of scars marring the skin of his forearm like a spider’s web, twisting all the way from his wrist to beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Jesus, Mac,” Riley breathed.
“Electrical burns,” he offered as the explanation they wouldn’t have asked for. Catching their thunderstruck looks, he shifted his expression to what he probably imagined was reassuring. “It looks worse than it was, mostly; being shocked hurts like hell but there’s no real permanent damage to worry about. Honestly, most of it was superficial stuff, scarcely a mark left on me. The only reason I was in medical for as long as I was was because they had to drain my lungs and get me on antibiotics in case of infection. Could have been home within a day otherwise.”
Bozer wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Mac that made him think that explanation would do anything at all to allay their concerns, but he didn’t care for it at all. Worse than any of that though was the dawning realisation in the back of his mind that had been growing steadily ever since Mac mentioned moving into Jack’s place. “Except you couldn’t have come home,” he said quietly, needing to hear it for himself. “Because I was there.”
Mac shuffled in his seat, but held his gaze. “A couple of bruises could probably have been explained away, but I was… kind of a mess. Even if you could have believed I got hit by a car or something, all it would have taken was a few screaming nightmares to give me away. No way it wouldn’t have blown my cover.”
He sounded apologetic even as he said it, bracing himself as though he was expecting Bozer to lash out at him for something that had already been long forgiven. Sure, lying to him for years had been a shitty thing to do, but Boze understood why he had done it now, and he knew that Mac had only ever been trying to keep him safe. It might have been the wrong choice, but it was done for all the right reasons.
“Mac,” he started, uncertain and wounded and so, so guilty, “Mac, you should have been at home. After whatever it was you went though, you should have been able to recover in your own house.”
Mac blinked at him in clear surprise. Did he really not understand? Boze tried again. “I’m guessing that Jack wasn’t the only one dealing with some shit when you got back to LA and I’m not even going to pretend I can imagine what that was like. You should have been able to come home, come back to the place where you felt safe and cared for and-” He sucked in a hard breath. “And you couldn’t, because of me. I chased you out of your own house when you’d been tortured.”
The blonde was already shaking his head, looking stricken. “That wasn’t on you. Boze, that was never on you.” He finally stopped worrying at his sleeve to grip Bozer’s shoulder, tight and grounding. “I was the one who kept the truth from you. I lied to you, for years, and that’s all on me. I know that if you’d known what had happened you would have been there for me and you only weren’t because I didn’t let you.”
He wasn’t wrong and Bozer knew it, but he wasn’t exactly right either. “I get that. But you do know that you shouldn’t have had to make that choice, right? You should have been able to come home Mac.”
Riley was glancing between the two of them looking utterly lost, and Mac was starting to look not much better, so Boze took a slow breath and tried his best to let it go. He had spent years of his life trying to convince Mac that he should rank his own well-being at least somewhere on his list of priorities, and this was really just another piece of that endless puzzle. There would be time to fight that battle later. “I’m just glad you’re okay man. No lasting damage?”
Thankful for the lifeline being offered, Mac dropped his hand away from Bozer’s shoulder and shrugged lightly. “A few scars, but nothing else. Like I said, I had a surprisingly easy time of it in comparison to Jack.” His eyes darted over to where his partner had hunkered down as far from them as he could get. “And speaking of, give me a minute.”
He was on his feet and gone before either of them could even think about trying to stop him, not that they would have done. Bozer had the sense that this was a conversation they had had before, and he knew that Mac would have it handled. If there was anyone who could convince Jack that he hadn’t somehow apocalyptically failed the man he had dedicated his own life to protecting, it would be the man himself.
“How many stories do you think they have?” Riley asked quietly, soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear her. “All the years they’ve been doing this… How much is there that we don’t know about?”
Bozer thought about the scars on Mac’s arm that he’d never really seen before, about the number of unannounced work trips he had gone on after he came back from Afghanistan. Thought about the number of times he had heard him moving around the house late at night after a nightmare, or worse, the times he’d woken up crying out in panic. He’d known for years that Jack had a protective streak a mile wide and he’d centered it firmly on Mac; before he’d known about the Phoenix, Bozer had always wondered if the man was going overboard. Now, he knew with certainty that he wasn’t.
When he met her gaze, there were tears in Riley’s eyes. “Too much.”
#MacGyver#mac#jack dalton#angus macgyver#wilt bozer#bozer#riley#riley davis#fanfiction#my fanfic#mention of torture#i don't really know what this is#weird little gremlin inspo that bit me
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don't know if you've already answered a similar question, if you have I apologize and will look better for it. But do you think Sandor and Sansa would still love each with how much they've both changed? They've almost become new people, but still the same beings.
It’s no problem. I’ve written about that here and probably touched on this in many other posts.
I wouldn’t frame the question as would they “still love each other with how much they’ve both changed.” It implies that their feelings were already understood as love by them when they were together. What they had was a confusing mess of conflicting emotions that neither were fully capable of understanding or accepting at the time. Each had their reasons for why that was so, which goes to some of the issues that stood between them. While there is chemistry, intimacy, and empathy shown, IMO, it’s better to think of them as possessing the building blocks that can lead to love in the future.
On the other hand, there was also:
The fact that she’s too young, immature, and unready for a consummated romance with anyone. She needs space and time to grow up and figure out what she wants. Until AFFC, she’s still only comfortable consciously fantasizing about Loras Tyrell, who is non-threatening, conventionally attractive, and uncomplicated. They are still relatively chaste/borderline erotic fantasies. The unkiss takes time for her to consciously accept and embrace as reciprocated erotic desire.
The fact that he has no idea how to express himself without resorting to the language of violence that he understands best.
The fact that he copes with the unresolved childhood trauma and PTSD in unhealthy ways like his abrasive Hound persona, his overly-cynical worldview, and sometimes abusing alcohol when he’s under stress.
His immaturity and inability to simply ask for and accept the emotional support he wants (which she was perfectly willing to give) without freaking out over being vulnerable with someone.
The fact that they are on opposite sides of a war where Sansa’s family is in open rebellion against her captors who Sandor owes fealty to.
The fact that she’s the king’s betrothed. She’s his property. To explicitly act upon any romantic attraction would be considered treason, punishable by torture and death.
The fact that there is a massive class disparity between them that overshadows the age difference in their world. That’s one reason why neither can put a name to this thing between them. A future queen / high lord’s daughter from an ancient house should not be fraternizing with a non-knight from a house only three generations old. That’s why they struggle even knowing what to call each other because using first names shows too much familiarity and intimacy. This would be true even without any of the other conflicts. Class controls everything in Westeros.
And yes, he still owes her a big heartfelt apology for his abhorrent behavior during the Blackwater, and he should beg her forgiveness.
Most of these points I elaborate on in more detail in the links above. If you notice, though, most of these things have either been resolved or are in the process of being resolved. None of these issues were ever insurmountable obstacles.
The ways in which Sansa and Sandor have evolved even in their separation has been largely positive and complementary of each other. They haven’t grown apart or become incompatibly different at all. If anything, it’s pushed their feelings further along, and it’s clear they are very much on each other’s minds. Since we can see Sansa’s perspective firsthand, she’s only thought about Sandor more since he left.
Sansa has grown and matured a lot more when we see her in the TWOW sample chapter. Had the five-year gap panned out, she would be legally an adult in Westeros; however, dropping it doesn’t seem to have affected GRRM’s intentions for any of his POVs. She’s in the company of unconventional, sexually mature women in their early twenties who can be role models in navigating adult relationships. The sassy way she takes no shit from a brutally honest Harrold Hardyng shows she has confidence and the ability to go toe-to-toe with Sandor’s gruff personality without getting flustered and running away. After she wipes the floor with him with her wit, she ends up winning Harry over to the point he’s begging for her favor. There is no point in the sample chapter where she voices any anxieties about not feeling ready for marriage, sex, or children. This no longer seems to be an issue for her, so we can assume she feels okay with having an adult relationship at this point.
Her time as a bastard girl has made her warmer and friendlier. She was always kind, but proprieties and courtesies can also read as aloof and re-enforcing strict class boundaries. Can you imagine Kings Landing!Sansa hugging someone like Lothor Brune, a landless knight, as she does in TWOW? Or preferring the company of a sex-positive widow who enjoys taking lovers or a bastard girl over the “perfect sister” she saw in Margaery Tyrell and her cousins? Hell no. That would never happen. This new Sansa lacks those prejudices and is openly affectionate towards people she was raised to keep at arm’s length. Once she loosened up and stopped reciting courtesies, people actually got to know her and like her for who she is. That’s what Sandor always wanted from her, right? To drop the courtesies and flattering bullshit and just be a real person with him, not a talking parrot. While that criticism was harsh and rudely put, it had a lot of truth to it. It seems to have made Sansa into a happier person and more in touch with her authentic self. Now that she has accepted in Feast that she wanted Sandor like that, what is there to stop her from acting on it later?
The Quiet Isle didn’t exist before Feast. It was written for Sandor to recover and rehabilitate. Not just physically, but he’s getting what constitutes psychological counseling and a treatment plan that deals directly with his worst traits. He appears to meet with the Elder Brother often enough because the latter seems to know quite a bit about Sandor’s backstory, what his issues are, and exactly who Sansa Stark is. The rest of the time, he must observe the no talking rule and do meaningful work as a novice. This man, who once flaunted his contempt for those who couldn’t defend themselves as weak and deserving of death, is put to work digging graves for the innocent victims of violence. All day long, he has to look at the faces of men, women, and children killed by evil men with that philosophy. One brother even yells at him for carelessly tossing dirt around with the shovel, and he silently takes it. No smart ass backtalk. In the evening, he has to serve food and clear plates for men he would have once mocked. They’re men of faith, they’ve renounced violence, and Sandor sits lower in status than them. To Sandor’s credit, he humbly submits to all this in a show of respect and humility. It’s like he wants to learn these lessons they are offering and is allowing himself to be schooled. Now Sandor may always be Sandor on some level (if Stranger kicking down the stable doors and refusing to be gelded is any indication). Still, it does look like he’s become a gentler, healthier, and sober version of himself. The only part of Sandor that Sansa rejected was the Hound, and it’s both stated in the text and by George himself that the Hound is dead. Period. And yeah, it seems like Sandor is in a place where he is unlikely to backslide into old behavior, and he can make that heartfelt and necessary apology to Sansa. I don't think Sandor could ever be okay with moving their relationship forward without making amends first. It wouldn't sit right with his sense of remorse and personal responsibility, which is a good thing.
All these changes are for the better for them as individuals and as a possible future couple. Contrary to your ask, I would say a positive, fully-fledged romance with "HEA" potential wouldn’t be possible or believable without all the growth and changes they've undergone. When they reunite, they can do so on more equal footing.
Not that there aren’t more conflicts to overcome. They both are currently wanted fugitives for murders they didn’t commit, so they both need to clear their names and reclaim their true identities. There is still the matter of Sansa’s marital status as Tyrion isn’t dead but their marriage was also unconsummated. She could try to have her marriage officially annulled by the Faith somehow, but to do that, she’ll have to take the risk of revealing her true identity. Again, these don’t seem like plots that won’t be resolved anyway at some point. What about that class divide though? Well, the Starks aren’t like Tywin or Cersei, and they actually value things like faithful service. No reason why Sandor couldn’t be awarded a lordship and lands in gratitude for saving the lives of both Arya and Sansa. I’m just sayin’.
#valyrianscrolls#sansan meta#sansan#sansa stark#sandor clegane#asoiaf meta#my meta#future romance#asoiaf characterization#twow spec#asoiaf spec
108 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
