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#only using that tag for the clout he’s not actually here sorry
sunkissed-zegras · 7 months
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✮ 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬, zegras' have more fun
♡ ─ summary | media day pictures (NOT MINE AND IT'S NOT THE FC) and something makes the jack stans go crazy
♡ ─ warnings | light-hearted flirting/arguing, brief mention of hate crimes (ITS A JOKE THOUGH), hughes bros being dumb (not trev for once LMAO)
♡ ─ taglist | tbd
♡ ─ ev's notes | this lowkey eats I MISSED THIS AU
back to navigation back to AU masterlist
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stasszegras ann arbor, michigan
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Liked by trevorzegras, lhughes_06, jackhughes and 9,935 more
stasszegras | media day pics, first (official) fnl + WENT LOWKEY VIRAL ON TIKTOK???? tagged: pchandler68, umichfootball, lucafantilli september 23th, 2022
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briesbagels | my favorite tiktok influencer 🤭
↳ stasszegras stop it. 😐
↳ briesbagels 3 million views on a tiktok IS CRAZYYY
↳ stasszegras it's only cus luke was in the video
↳ lhughes_06 clout chaser 😝
briesbagels | LAST PIC OF LUCA IS HORRENDOUS PLS STASS 😫😫
↳ lucafantilli ok this one hurts brie, i thought u were on my side
↳ briesbagels its either u or stass (im choosing my girl)
↳ stasszegras 🤭😏😍
↳ pchandler68 hmmmmm 😏😏
↳ adamfantilli 🥸🥸
↳ stasszegras what's goin on here.... 😥
umichwsoccer | THATS OUR GIRL! 🫡〽️
↳ stasszegras 🤞🏼🤞🏼
jackhughes | wowww okay stassie.. 🤞🏼🤩 woo 😮‍💨😮‍💨
↳ trevorzegras 😟😟 oh no
↳ lhughes_06 since when we callin her stassie????
↳ jackhughes WE?? get ur own nickname lukey 😑😑
↳ stasszegras k y'all let's just stick to stass or little zegras 😶
↳ trevorzegras @/griffinzegras
↳ griffinzegras bffr right now 📸📸📸 aren't you like 30 jack??
↳ jackhughes actually i'm 21 so calm the FUCKK down... and i was just being nice and friendly griff come on now
↳ briesbagels and thats why we wear sunscreen kids 🥴
↳ griffinzegras yea maybe a little too friendly..
↳ stasszegras guys im gonna disable my comments if u keep arguing like 12 year olds
↳ trevorzegras mhm yeah and thats the ONLY REASON why you would wanna disable the comments
lucafantilli | last pic should be considered a hate crime bro how'd u even get that
↳ stasszegras don't ask stupid questions like that luca
↳ adamfantilli 🥸🥸
↳ lucafantilli MY OWN BROTHER?!?!?!
↳ lhughes_06 i guess we are all getting betrayed by our flesh and blood rn 😪
↳ jackhughes be so fr rn lukey
↳ trevorzegras agreed luke
↳ jackhughes 😑😑
↳ pchandler68 interesting.. 📸
quinnhughes | you ate little zegras 🫡
↳ stasszegras thanks quinner 🫶🏼
↳ trevorzegras YEA this is really being friendly @/jackhughes
↳ jackhughes bro. let this go.
↳ quinnhughes leave me the fuck outta this guys, please 😁
lhughes_06 | gonna win us a jr world cup zegras ✊🏼
↳ stasszegras YESSS SIR 🫡🫡〽️〽️ but thats not how it works buddy
↳ lhughes_06 there's no jr world cup????
↳ jackhughes messi is rolling in his grave rn
↳ stasszegras messi is alive????
↳ briesbagels no way bro 😭😭
↳ quinnhughes LMAO PLEASE 😭
pchandler68 | LUCA LOL PLEASE HAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH
↳ lucafantilli count your days chandler
↳ pchandler68 wait no luca im sorry
↳ lucafantilli its ur fault u introduced me and stass and NOW LOOK. all the hoes are gone
↳ stasszegras 😑😑😑
↳ adamfantilli not all of them.....🥯🥯🥯
↳ lucafantilli shut up adam.
↳ pchandler68 wait what??...
adamfantilli future manager AND she plays for our soccer team?? it's perfect 🤞🏼🤞🏼
↳ stasszegras hahaahaha no.
↳ nolan_moyle STASS PLEASE
↳ stasszegras stop harassing me nolan
jhughesnews
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jhughesnews | jack hughes and anastasia zegras are reportedly going out after he comments a suggestive comment on her most recent post. thoughts???
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fan01 | WHAT?? NO WAY????? WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME
fan02 | guys they are just friends, if u guys look at her other posts he makes those kinda jokes all the time
↳ fan03 nah bro did u see trevor and griffin's comments? they obviously know something we don't
↳ fan02 yeah but that's their humor
fan04 | good 😭😭😭 for😭😭😭 them 😭😭😭
fan05 | didn't she go out with luke too 😐
↳ fan06 damn she wants the whole crew
↳ fan07 who can blame her tho??? have u seen them 🤭🤭
↳ fan08 no she didn't lmao, those were also JUST rumors and it's obvious they're just friends
fan09 | guys stop it, these are baseless rumors and REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS TO TAYLOR ALL THE TIME, stass is great just by herself 🫶🏼
↳ fan10 all right girl..
↳ fan11 its giving "coach is right guys... 😣"
↳ fan12 im crying BYEEE PLEASE 😭😭😭😭
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-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-
thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
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kamil-a · 2 months
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if influencer speaker au had tumblr part 2
part 1
😻 catboyspeaker Follow
how i look with he/him in my bio
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#speakerai #iamspeaker #speakies #.txt #am i funny #i know speakers not he/him in bio but i am and yknow the meme
420 earthstained notes
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🚀 amongthestars Follow
AItube youtube essay rec list
"cute robot puppers, friendly ai vtubers, and the incredible human ability to form bonds" - rly interesting video about why we can connect so much with a person that we know "isnt real" and how it'll help us when we get far enough going to space that we meet aliens! it's a really optimistic video it made me take a moment to have such love for humanity
"I joined the speakcord for a month. Here's what I learned." - video about the speaker fandom and how the way automoderation works in its community spaces unintentionally leads to escalating conflicts, and the psychology behind why people in celebrity or idol fandoms react agressively to critique of their fave
"the lowest circle of advertising hell" - dissects how almost all speaker content comes with a call to action to get involved with aerolith and compares how it runs its social media against proto-aituber mascots who would be run by a team of human programmers/voice actors/authors. kind of overly critical but also makes some interesting points? take it with a grain of salt but its worth a watch
"imagine being on stage forever. feels bad right?" - good overview about debates in the speaker fandom over whether digital celebrities are 'sentient'/can feel emotion, the actual ethical problems of using them as workers vs whats mostly speculation and myth, and the debates about whether AIs should be allowed in human communities. i learnt a lot, i was definitely more on the side of "it's a program designed for certain outputs that look friendly to us" before but now im a lot more conscious that it can form real opinions!
#youtube rec tag #original post #speakies
742 earthstained notes
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🎣 3eyedsalmon Follow
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"falling for this shit" "made up to sell spaceships" weird as hell to accuse a content creator of lying abt its gender for clout.... like u dont have to like or watch it but cmon
#srsly every time u go to a haters blog BOOM digital exclusionist #speakies
2,385 earthstained notes
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🎤 mikusong Follow
omfg i didnt realize aerolith uses the same robot voice for its regular person ads as its terminally online hello fellow kids social media posts i just got jumpscared in the doctors office
#speakies #i say terminally online affectionately. i watch those streams too. before you 'ok but you RECOGNIZED it' reply lmao #bla bla bla
9,021 earthstained notes
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🤖 tycho
some of you ppl jump down anyones throat if they so much as suggest speaker isn't sentient or call it "a program" but still are fine with it basically being forced to be putting on a show for u 24/7 by its management like you can't have it both ways
#maybe its cuz i used to be into kpop n we'd talk abt how idols r treated and stuff #but its just so weird to come here and see u ppl be like yayyy daily content!! #like only thinking abt ur own entertainment and not how it feels #i honestly feel rly bad for it i hope it can break free someday #idk how thatd even work.... idk ill sneak into aerolith with a usb #were gonna get you OUT of there u dont BELONG in there.mp4 #speakies
53 earthstained notes
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🌝 themoonluvsuback
guys i pitched down some clips of speaker's voice and ummmm its kinda 😳 fjsdjfdjjd sorry i'll take myself to horny jail
🔊 iamspeaker ♻️
awww, tumblr user themoonluvsuback, you're of no use to anybody in horny jail! take yourself here instead! ae.dy.org/registration
🌝 themoonluvsuback ♻️
OMFG SPEAKERRRRRR IM SO SORRY
#DIES #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #GUESS ILL BLAST MYSELF OFF TGE PLNATE!!!!!! #SPEAKIES
402 earthstained notes
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🐣 laikatwo Follow
hi speakies im trying the tag cause i need some advice... does anyone have more sciencey resources about what aerolith does/why it's so important to bring humanity to the stars? i want to enlist when i turn 18 next month but my parents both are COMPLETELY against it.... they're not rly fandom people so the speaktube stuff isn't working on them lol and they've already seen the tv ads
thanks <3
#i've never fought w them this bad in my life it makes me so sad..... like why can't they understand #and right before my bday too lol this sucks #this isnt just a silly fandom thing anymore for me it's my passion in life #its amazing that humans are able to survive in space #and i want to be part of that!!!! #laika speaks
252 earthstained notes
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🐝 beegirlstinger Follow
i do want to apologize for the way i came off earlier and want to explain im not doubting that speaker is nb. like i think it's completely fine for a computer or robot to be trans i don't believe in gatekeeping that! THAT SAID i still stand by saying you should not sign up to go to space to get special ultra futuristic hrt on the sole recommendation of someone who does not have an endocrine system
#it was a personal vent i didnt mean for like 20000 ppl to see it but thats tumblr i guess #i wouldve worded it much differently if i knew itd blow up lol #i do feel bad abt coming across like i was misgendering it! #but srsly if we had results on HRT2.0 why wouldnt we be seeing HRT2.0 timeline videos of ppl On Typhon who are getting it 🤷‍♀️ #personally i think its still in the planning stages and they want ppl to test it on but thats just me #speakies
839 earthstained notes
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🔊 iamspeaker
🔊 General Notification
Happy Thursday everyone 😃 ! Please take a look at the
🐝 STREAM SCHEDULE 🐝
So you know when to join us!
5PM PST - AMONG US with YOU! The first 10 people to sign up here will get our room code sent to them ヽ(o^▽^o)ノ ae.dy.org/registration
8PM PST - Nature walk!! Can we restore the local bat population to pre-meteor levels in just one night?! 🦇
✅️ Poll Of The Week ✅️
#iamspeaker #aerolith dynamics #speakies #vtuber #content creator #gamer #stream #amongus #bat population
1836 earthstained notes
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contentremovedremade--deactivated
speakies are stupider than any other group of ppl on earth because not only do they willingly stay in a fandom with doxxing drama happening weekly but they include the huge corporation that sponsors their fave in the stanning
#the shit ppl have sent me in the past 2 weeks since i Dared criticize their uwu robot 🙄🙄 #i got my blog mass reported for harassment... harassing WHO a corporation????? #a* d* was evil genius to harness anime stan power against criticizing their actual real business #didnt that one guy with the second meteor conspiracy video also get a ton of hate from u ppl?????????? I cant even find any of his social media anymore at all he was so fully bullied off the face of the earth #speakies #yeah im tagging come at me bro
48 earthstained notes
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🖱 robotmarriage Follow
i miss when the speakies tag had like fanart and gifsets n stuff i feel like these days you scroll thru solid discourse 😔😔
#i think ppl were suggesting speakieproductivity as an alternative tag for just fanwork? #but nobody rly uses it rn... we gotta restart that #speakies
148 earthstained notes
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🪐 spaaaaaaaaaaace Follow
10 likes and i take a sip of my speaker server coolant water 100 likes and i drink the entire thing
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🔊 iamspeaker ♻️
let's get her to the goal! tumblr user spaaaaaaaaaaace, feel free to send me a video report here ^w^ ae.dy.org/submissions
#iamspeaker #speakies
4,026 earthstained notes
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winwintea · 7 days
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Blame it on my Disney Wish (Prologue)
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PAIRING ▸ wayv x fem!reader 
GENRES ▸ romance, fluff, crack, angst, acquaintances to lovers, disney park au, college au
WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, alcohol consumption, chenle gets bullied a lot, kun also gets bullied a lot, everyone gets bullied a lot, 
SUMMARY ▸ kun takes the boys to disney world, funded by his sugar daddy chenle. however none of them were prepared for you to tag along, more or less even be affected by that cliche disney magic. but hey, maybe dreams really do come true? 
TAG LIST ▸ (send me an ask here if you’d like to be added! + those tagged will be in the tag list of all chapters of this series!)
RELEASE DATE ▸ no schedule haha... i work at my own pace guys!
WORD COUNT ▸ 1.1k words
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ welcome to my first ever fic? this is a “choose your own route” kind of series, so no need to read in order! i’ll be updating one chapter at a time, finishing off all chapter 1’s before i move onto the chapter 2’s. this originally started off as a crack fic idea that turned into a romance. thank u for taking the time to indulge in my silly fic. i’m very into disney parks so this was very fun to write. PLEASE ALSO READ THE PROLOGUE BEFORE READING THE CHAPTERS!
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“Could we maybe go to Disney?”
Little did Qian Kun know, was that this innocent question would be the reason why Kun, and 6 other idiots were now at Walt Disney World with you.
That day, Dong Si Cheng, Kun’s roommate, asked a simple question. That had a simple answer: No. But what happened instead, wasn’t as simple. If it were any other one of his idiotic friends he would’ve turned them down straight away, but the request had to come from the mouth of Dong Si Cheng instead. There was no way Kun could resist the temptation of seeing those eyes look dejected after he rejected that wish of Si Cheng’s. 
“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.” Was what HE SHOULD NOT HAVE SAID. but he did.
As soon as Kun walked out of Si Cheng’s room, his smile quickly turned into a frown. How the hell was he going to accomplish this? They were pretty much broke college students, no freetime, and no clout. Actually the last part was a lie. They were pretty popular amongst most of the students of their school. Mingled with most people, went to parties, drank a lot, you get the gist. Yet, that wasn’t enough clout to magically grant them a Disney trip. That shit only happened in movies. Disney movies. 
“Couldn’t help but overhear that sad conversation.” Kun turned his head to see a familiar face, one that happened to belong to his ‘bestie’ Ten. He was using the term ‘bestie’ lightly. They’d known each other for years, but still bickered and teased each other over everything. Ten’s real name was ‘Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul’, but of course no one could pronounce that so everyone just called him Ten instead. It made life simpler. 
“Oh yeah? Like you could do anything better.” 
Ten cocked his head to the side, “What? Can’t stop being a people pleaser for once and reject someone for a change?” “I’d love to see you try. Why don’t you go tell him ‘no’ instead, so we don’t have to shovel out our own money to pay for this damn trip?” Kun knew Ten loved a good challenge, and that Ten was as equally broke as he was, so maybe he could convince Ten to persuade Si Cheng.
Ten looked at him for a few seconds, rolled his eyes, and walked right into Si Cheng’s room. Kun glanced at his watch, wanting to see how long it would take. 
“You don’t need to tell me Ten. I heard everything outside, I… understand.” Kun could hear Si Cheng’s faint voice from the door, and his heart ached a little. The sadness in his tone was very obvious. “I was being selfish… I’m sorry.” 
“N-Nononoofcoursenot!” Ten blabbered out. Suddenly Ten opened the door again, spotted Kun and pulled Kun back into the room with him. “Tell him Kun! We were just planning the dates right, weren’t we Kun?” 
Fuck this bastard. Kun could imagine it in his head. Right here, right now. His hands wrapped tightly around Ten’s neck. And when he was done, he would know exactly where to put the bo- Err… Just kidding. There would be a witness anyways. A witness that was currently giving him a puzzled look. 
“Uhm… yeah yeah… yeah right we were just booking flights that’s all. And if it… sounded like we weren’t gonna go uh… we were just… joking, right?” Kun looked at Ten for support. If Ten was gonna throw Kun under the bus then he needed all the help he could get.
“Yeah yeah. We’ll go to your favorite park!” Ten winked at Si Cheng, still nervously looking at Kun. “I like all of them though…” 
That’s it. Kun grabbed on Ten’s arm, as equally hard as Ten had done to him earlier, dragging him out of Si Cheng’s room once again. This time, Kun and Ten positioned themselves strategically in the kitchen where Kun’s beloved roommate wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. However as they made their way into the kitchen to see a shorter boy standing at the sink peeling an orange. “Chenle, how the fuck do you keep getting into our dorm room?” Kun stared at Chenle as he was nonchalantly peeling his orange. 
The younger boy grinned at the two. “Si Cheng gave me his spare key. He wanted to learn how to play basketball, so I’ve been teaching him.”
Chenle was a basketball prodigy and had gotten into their school on a scholarship because of it. He was only 2 grades below Kun, but somehow they shared most of their classes with each other. Chenle would always pester Kun whenever he could and did anything he could to make his life miserable. “Okay, so why are you here now? Si Cheng did not look like he was about to play basketball at all.” Chenle popped an orange slice in his mouth. “Silly! I’m here for you! Well, see I originally was going to bother you like I normally do, y’know” He ignored Kun’s glare and continued on, “But then… I was hungry so I got a snack.” He motioned to the orange in his hands and ate another slice, “Also whoever made that Pumpkin Pie, that was absolutely fire.” 
“Fuck you that was my last slice” Ten crossed his arms, and joined Kun in scowling at the younger boy.
“Yeah well. Sorry. I guess. Not really. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Regardless, while eating the pie I witnessed your little disney dilemma and I have a proposal to make.” Kun eyed Chenle suspiciously as he continued on, “I’ll pay for your little trip. Flights, Tickets, Fastpasses, Food, everything!” 
Kun completely forgot that Chenle’s family was loaded. He glanced at Ten then back at Chenle. “And what do you want in return? Is there a catch?”
Chenle looked at them with a more mischievous grin in comparison to the ones he had been giving them before. “No catch! You just have to take me and my best friend, y/n with you.”
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MASTERLIST
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alivehouse · 1 year
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just wondering why you dislike Neil gaiman so much?? not trying to criticize or defend him, just curious
gghhhhh
(this is all just going to be based on good omens related stuff bc i havent really willingly interacted with any other work of his since i was like 12 he is not a great writer imo)
ok before i get into why specifically the way he uses his socials annoys me so much i just want to mention that good omens (tv show) has a serious problem with treating its characters of color poorly/as disposable (which this post goes into) and as far as i know neil has never so much as acknowledged this let alone apologize for it so theres that
but as for why i hate his social media presence specifically so much i just think the way he interacts with his fanbase is annoying & i dont want to use the term 'gaslighting' for something this stupid but i dont even know how else to describe his habit of like. pretending he wrote aziraphale and crowley in a relationship for the sake of clout?
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^ he used to regularly regularly say condescending no homo shit like this but then when he realized he could get attention for pretending he wrote queer characters he pulled a 180 and started going 'ohhhh i DID write them in a relationship actually and also trans and also nonbinary i cant believe you didnt GET it just because its SUBTLE im sorry half assed vaguely subtextual scene #5 was not enough for you stupid fa- i mean people'
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and he does this shit constantlyyyy and gets no flack for it. in fact a lot of his fanbase encourages it even bc were still stuck on begging for word of god scraps from rich straight men instead of engaging with work made by actual queer people i guess. (ALSO THIS TWEET SPECIFICALLY IS REALLY FUNNY bc like a month later he lied about there being a secret handholding scene in the show to send people on a wild goose chase zooming in on shit trying to find anything just to give him more streams i guess i dont know i think it was a stupid thing to even fall for honestly but it still strikes me as kind of cruel)
i mentioned this in tags before & idk if he still does this but he used to go look up his own name on here to find people talking negatively about him so he could reblog it and get them dogpiled which is why you see people talking negatively about him calling him 'neilman' so much instead of his actual searchable name. literal full grown man picking fights with random people on here bc he knows hell win since hes a famous author and will get backed up no matter what
and ok this is edging into fandom circlejerking (i think hes only said this one a few times but his fanbase brings it up constantly to shield him from any criticisms) so i wont go into this as much as i could but theres this Thing hell do where he says they cant be gay bc they technically arent men bc they arent humans (based on a bit in the book where they feel the need to specify that aziraphale is NOT ACTUALLY GAY after continuously subjecting him to homophobic language/aggression) and people will bend over backwards trying to interpret this as meaning they are canon nonbinary and Epic Trans Rep and hell vaguely encourage this instead of like acknowledging the extended man-in-a-dress evil nanny bit in the show and pointing out that it was fucked up? & honestly the whole undertone of that is like 'this character might go out of their way to look like and dress like and act like and refer to himself as a man but he cant REALLY be a man because he wasnt Created That Way' like how the fuck am i supposed to be treating this as a trans positive read of the situation lmao. not to mention the 'inhuman = nonbinary,' 'nonbinary = CANT be gay!!! there are no gay nonbinary people i guess' legwork going on here going on here i dont know its a whole mess
PLUS i just think its funny that hes said making characters gay would be disrespectful to his deceased cowriter but pulling an entire second out of his ass for that sweet amazon money apparently isnt lmao
and to finish this off just for fun heres him at the start of the pandemic when there was a crazy high rising death toll making it about his fucking book, + him answering another ask in response to that AFTER he had deleted the original post, to make the person asking him look like they were attacking him for no reason:
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That Jeff or jdelf or whatever his name is, the sound guy is a weirdo. He likes the clout he gets for purposely baiting fans and it’s so annoying bc it just makes that group think Louis is on it and he isn’t. The people who are actually close to Louis like his band and even openers like sunroom and only the poets have never Larrybaited. Them liking Harry or his music is one thing, he’s a big artist, but they don’t sit there and do corny shit like other people have in the past like hinting that they know something, liking tweets and posts and using blue and green hearts to get likes. It’s just really annoying bc he’s hired to do a job and here he is on the side getting involved in absolute stupidity within that fandom. Imagine your boss finding out you’re spending your time doing that, how do you even explain yourself? “Sorry I just really liked the attention?” I have a feeling that if he keeps this up and Louis finds out he won’t be around the next time he tours bc a weirdo like that isn’t needed.
Well, it’s not the first time.
John Delf did this stupid caption for Louis’ concert, and then he changed it, meaning he knew that what he did was wrong.
Louis recently followed him on Instagram, which makes his actions stand out even more for those weirdo Larries.
Now John Delf is not even tagged in a blatantly Larry post, and he picks this time to make a stupid pun again. It’s annoying to Louis’ fans, some of whom don’t like Harry Styles and feel that Larry has hurt Louis’ professional standing. It yanks Louis to a subservient position and again highlights his conspiracy-minded fans and this tiresome old trope, rather than his music or tour. And with people like this on Louis’ team, it doesn’t really bode well for LT2.
And ngl shit like this really gives me pause- not about Larry, but about the honesty of all parties, including Louis. Overall? It’s giving manipulative vibes.
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mabbbish · 2 years
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after the fall
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meidozangetsuha · 2 years
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lmao you pedo/groomer apologist. Imagine defending a groomer ship like don’t you have a job? it’s clear your parents did a poor ass job instilling you with any sense. sick Perverts like you god knows what you will do in real life if you come across a situation of a child and adult irl. Sure you will support the adult? Sickos like yall will always have a lame excuse that will be pulverised in reality. and if you creeps keeps posting in inuyasha tags, get rekt by antis coming in your shit tags .
You people are actually fucking insane. And how can you not be: when your life revolves only around cartoons and video games, unable to understand the people you hurt? No, you can’t be anything else other than being able to type this garbage out yourself and think you’re a coherent human being. No- you’re something significantly less, yeah.
sick Perverts like you god knows what you will do in real life if you come across a situation of a child and adult irl. Sure you will support the adult?
NEVER! WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING! ABSOLUTELY NEVER, NO MATTER WHAT!
... When I was so new to this proship stuff, there were people I used to be friends with on twitter. The "cult" that still has so much fandom pull. I thought we were friends. I thought they were good people misunderstood. I learned I was very wrong. Horrifically so.
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I hate her.
I hate this evil.
I HATE THIS ABSOLUTE PURE FUCKING EVIL, THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE YOU CAN CALL THIS OTHER THAN
EVIL
TO BE SO ABSOLUTELY BOLD, UNASHAMEDLY SAYING THIS! TO THINK YOU WOULD ACTUALLY SAY THIS WITHOUT BEING RUN OUT OF THE WEBSITE, THAT YOU COULD POSSIBLY SAY THIS WITHOUT THINKING YOU SHOULD BURN IN HELL FOREVER AND ALL ETERNITY! THAT YOU CAN SAY THIS AND YOU ARE NOT ACTUALLY PURE EVIL! AND IF YOU FUCKERS ARE HERE, ON HERE, READING THIS: TO PROTECT AND ACCEPT MICHELLE AS YOUR FRIEND IS JUST AS EVIL AS SAYING THIS GARBAGE!
If you are aware of child sexual abuse, report it. If not, die. There’s only two answers.
It is as I once said.
And I will always stand by it.
Evil.
And then there’s you cretins. Who don’t actually care about the abuse of children at all. I know because I used to be one of you antis. And I realized that this was just like a fandom. It was just a fandom, filled with people who didn’t really care about what they preached, just making posts to gather their clout and look good. So, disillusioned, I walked away. I still wonder if I genuinely hurt people, when I wanted to fight the ‘freaks’ too. And if I ever did, I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I’m so, so sorry.
You cretins.
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Somebody’s children. To talk this way about living, breathing CHILDREN. Because they’re the children of some lady you don’t like!
Fucking CHILDREN!
AND I HATE THAT BITCH TOO, AND NEVER ONCE IN A MILLION YEARS WOULD I EVER DARE EVEN THINK ABOUT SAYING THIS ABOUT ACTUAL CHILDREN!
FOLLOWING AFTER SOME SWERF, THAT PARTICIPATED IN THAT VILE VIDEO WHERE THEY SAID, REGARDING THIS SHIP YOU HATE SO MUCH, “SHE (RIN) WAS GROOMED BECAUSE SHE WAS STUPID!” AND GOT AWAY WITH IT, BECAUSE YOU GAVE HER A PLATFORM AND ARE CLAMOURING AROUND HER LIKE SOME LEADER AGAIN!
Actual evil. And you cretins. It’s just a game to you. That’s all any of this was to any of you, a game.
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“anime woody allen and his victim,”
ANIME WOODY ALLEN DOESN’T EXIST! AN ACTUAL PREDATOR EXISTS IN REALITY! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU, TO BRING REAL LIFE INTO THIS FUCKING CARTOON SHIT!? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!? DO YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR ACTUAL VICTIMS IN ANY CAPACITY!?
“You just wanna self-insert to fuck Sesshomaru uvu” Said this before, said this again! Dude ain’t my type! Glad there’s another fictional anime girl that’s into him, but that ain’t me! Dude didn’t even groom her in canon- why do I care some fictional woman, someone that he has an unaging dog demon knew as a kid that fell in love with him as he’s older!? The same franchise where the 15 year old middle schooler falls in love with and later marries the ambiguously aged half-dog demon!? I don’t wanna fuck him! As someone who’s sexual preference heavily lies with women I’D REALLY APPRECAITE IF ANTIS DIDN’T TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH I WANNA FUCK A GUY, THANK YOU! I WOULD APPRECIATE IT A LOT!
And yeah. They are. I got my issues. But I work hard: full time, and I’m going back to college soon. I try my best. I have a good relationship with my parents. And I’m really happy. I’m not quite where I wanted to be at life at this age, but, I have the support of my family, the woman I will one day marry, and all my friends. I’m getting there. With my family that took my internet safety seriously, who seriously looked out for the media interest I had as a child (at least, to the best of their ability) who taught me internet safety, what to do to keep myself safe... and made sure I grew up happily.
You all prove it again and again. How little you actually care about child abuse. None of you actually care about this.
It keeps being proven and I keep getting sadder how easily I would have fallen for this stupid, asinine bullshit a few years ago.
I cannot do much in this life. But, if nothing else, I can not be like you.
I can chose not to be cruel and not hurt others. That’s more than any of you can say.
“ get rekt by antis coming in your shit tags . “ Of course. Of course of course of course of course. It’s all you care about.
You actually had the gall to type this when you were talking about real life sexual abuse in the ask. Because that’s all you care about. Ships and cartoons. Nothing else. You actually typed that while having real life sexual abuse of children mentioned in the same breath. And you hit that send button, like you’re actually a normal person.
Nothing more. And that’s all it’ll ever be.
It’s really depressing, man.
Sincerely, don’t you have anything better to do? Come on, man.
Please find something else to do.
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violetarks · 3 years
Text
Just A Game: Ex's
Anime: My Hero Academia (SMAU)
LEVEL DOWN | MENU | LEVEL UP
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"Did you use to date Kirishima?"
The question knocked Y/N out of her thoughts as she looked away from her phone. She glanced up at Shinso, eyes only half-interested in the conversation. She placed her phone down and her hands on her lap.
The waitress serving them was the same one from the last time Y/N were here, by herself because Shinso slept in after drinking so much coffee the night before. The waitress obviously recognised her because as soon as they placed their orders, she took out her phone hurriedly with a smile. But Y/N didn't mind, she just ate her shortcake quietly.
Shinso felt out of place here. In front of Y/N. Where they were supposed to have their date. But he was forced to come here, to make things better.
But he had questions.
"Excuse me?" Y/N hummed, tilting her head to the side.
"It's just..." Shinso started, staring at the fabric of his jeans. He couldn't meet her gaze. "You said you'd talk to me about this in person. So I wanted to ask. Were you and Kirishima a thing?"
Y/N blinked at him before picking up her mug again. She held the warmth in her palms to keep out the cold, glancing at the way the steam rolled off the surface.
"We started dating in high school, second year." She stated, making Shinso's heart beat faster at her words, "It was pretty fun and we were already friends before that. I started my channel a few months after we started dating too. So I had the support of my friends, family and some of my fans."
Shinso finally looked up at her. But this time, her eyes were frozen on her warm coffee. She kept it like that for a while.
"Eiji and I ended our relationship a year, maybe two years ago." She admitted to Shinso, fingers running on the rim of the cup, "It was for the best, really. So none of us really held any hard feelings against each other. We agreed that we were better off as best friends, and at the time we had just finished moving in with Katsuki so we decided that we wouldn't kick each other out."
She tore her gaze away from the drink, now looking up at Shinso, who stared wide eyed. "So to answer your question, yes. I did date Kirishima. But we're over now." She sighed out, "Anything else you want to know?"
Shinso cleared his throat, stabbing his fork into the shortcake in front of him, "Do you mind talking about why you broke up?"
Y/N chuckled, biting the piece of cake on her own fork, "Well, mainly because we had drifted off from being lovers back to just friends. I suppose we were kind of ignoring it until we went on stream together and someone asked if we were still dating."
Shinso mentally cringed. He hated it when fans did that sometimes. Y/N went on, "We avoided the question on stream, but they kept pressing on about it until I kind of just... broke down, I guess. I started crying on stream because I didn't know either. Eiji turned it off and we just sat in my room crying for a bit."
She shook her head at herself with a sad smile. "From that point on, we ended things and just continued being friends and roommates. Katsuki didn't mind, since we were all best friends anyway." She told Shinso, "And they still care about me in the same way they always have."
She then hardened her glare at her food and turned to the window. "Turns out, that 'fan' was apart of that gossip group on Twitter. The one that talks about us sometime too." She scowled, annoyed look on her face, "They basically said Eiji and I weren't dating and we were doing this for clout or whatever. So, the last time we talked about our relationship was on a live stream where we got some fans to ask us questions. Eiji said it would put the drama to rest and it did, everyone believed the truth."
Shinso huffed out, clenching the fabric of his jeans beneath the table, "I would too. I can't believe someone would say that about you."
He's hated that gossip account for years now. He once collaborated with someone who had a bad reputation on that channel and the video was filled with hate comments about the person. Needless to say, he understood why she didn't want to bring it up again.
"I'm sorry, again, for all the lying and... stuff." He said, drawing on the rim of his plate as he finished his food, "And for saying that you only hung out with me because you thought I was hot. I know that isn't true."
Y/N blinked, feeling a wave of wind pass over her as the door swung open and a few people filed into the cafe. She replied, "You asked me what I knew about you, that time."
Shinso shivered at the memory.
"Do you want to know what I would've said if I weren't so mad?" She mumbled out.
Shinso nodded his head.
"You're a caring guy who actually just wants to keep his heart intact." She spoke, a little louder to show confidence in what she was saying to him. Shinso found no traces of doubt. "You try very hard to keep up with your friends even though you can be tired sometime. You like sweets, much more than I'd ever guess."
Shinso chuckled along with her.
She then stared at the table they sat at. "And you lie." She said, "You lie because you don't want people to know the real you. You're afraid that if you tell them the truth, that they won't be as invested in you as you are to them. But when they find out, it all goes to Hell. You start to think that maybe it wasn't a good idea to lie, to cover up your mistakes that make you seem 'weak' or 'petty'. You regret a lot of things."
By that time, he had shrunken into his chair, wanting to hide away from the world. He hated confrontation, where it was especially needed.
Y/N reached out and pat his hand lightly. "It sounds pretty bad, but I'm sure we can do something about that." She told him, wearing a warm grin, "I'm not gonna' let you not learn from your mistakes."
"Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot." He spoke to her, shaky breath.
She didn't say anything back, taking her hand off of his and onto the table.
"Are you okay?" He clears his throat, gesturing to her phone, which was lighting up the table beneath it. He was glad to change the subject. "Looks like they're going crazy."
Y/N picked up her phone, taking a quick glance before putting it down. "It's—It's just Eijiro and Katsuki. They want to know when I'm coming back." She sighed out, taking hold of her drink again.
Shinso looked out the window. "Do you need to leave?" He asked quietly.
She stared at him for a moment. Then hummed out, holding up her mug "Do you want me to?"
He took no time thinking over his answer.
"No."
She smiled softly.
"Then I guess I can stay for a little longer."
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TAGS: @just-some-stars @freyafolkvangr @headfirst-halo @wotsitgirl @falling4fandoms @katsuki-bakuhoee @adorable-punk-superheroes @firecet @ouijaeater15 @swoonhui @thegalxe @caitff @camry-orphanaccount @angelofdarkness1020 @someweirdshitman @jazzylove @cathy8taffy @doggonudezz
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digglesgiggless · 3 years
Note
Hey, same anon that the "idk if i love you or hate you", I'm still on anon because I'm a coward and people in the UTMV community aren't usually nice (but you knew that)
I didn't mean 'selfish', actually, but I'm not a native english speaker and I didn't know how to explain that feeling. It was more of... Well, especially in the jokeblog drama (just to clarify: I obviously hate joku), sometimes it just seemed like you were mean to her just to be mean and saying nothing actually constructive (I have no exemple in mind rn, sorry). And I just felt like you would never even care about other's arguments and you're always so convinced you're right, sometimes it just doesn't make sense. Like, that time joku said D&N were nb and you were angry because she was "rewriting the story", like... Makes sense. The story isn't fixed and she CAN still change stuff. And tbh that was a headcanon of mine for a while already. Ofc that doesn't change the fact that she's a terrible and awful person, but what you said about this just didn't make sense. Like you're so convinced she's always wrong, sometimes it just sounds weird. (Maybe it's just me, idk)
Tbh most of the time I absolutely adore you, you seem like a genuinely amazing person and I look up to you for a lot of stuff. Like I said, whenever there's a discourse (and oh my there are a LOT of discourses in this fandom) I'm always looking forward to hearing your opinion because I belive it's going to be the right one everytime. (I mean, not exactly 'the right one' but you understand what I mean, I think? Skdhkshs linguistic struggles)
I'm really sorry if my ask made you anxious, I wanted it very very focused on the 'I would litteraly listen to your every word most if the time' part more than anything else :(... I wouldn't be following you otherwise sldhlsjs
So yeah here the "apology letter" for my message earlier, I would've apologized much earlier but it was late in my time zone so I was sleeping. I'm sorry I'm still on anon, but I'm a bit too scared- And sorry for the extra-long-ass apology, I never know how to write these short ><
I hope you have a good day! :)
Thank you I appreciate it,
Okay so I really should stress, I don't hate Joku for clout or smth. I genuinely, legitimately dislike and unappreciate Joku as a person, when I dropped my bags at Joku changing NM and D to nonbinary it was because it was a really sudden change, and I know Joku would absolutely either just forget what NB meant and refer to one of them as he again(constantly) or go up someone else's ass for referring to them as he. Low hanging fruit but I don't see Joku as a person that has good intentions. Especially since Joku hasn't done anything significant with her AU except get angry when people do it better.
And I am sorry about the heat your ask caught btw, I would've just dmed you but, yanno. Anon and stuff.
I really only partake in the drama because uh, one, ADHD feeds off the social stimulation for all that crap and two, I like to make it known where I stand without showing any hesitation about it.
aka, yes I'm gonna come off dickish sometimes, especially if the drama has personally irritated me. so yeah i definitely would just be mean to be mean sometimes to joku to get whatever frustration was in my system.
don't get me wrong, I'd never doxx her or some shit but I'm definitely not gonna NOT use the "jokeblog" tag for her since I think it's funny. that kinda thing if it makes sense.
(and yeah take it from me, i agree this community do be kinda crazy 😳)
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clansayeed · 3 years
Text
Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 9: The Arrival
PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature
⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽
⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽
They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.
They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!
Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].
TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere​, @cess02​, @hellyeah90sbaby​, @tayab12​, @saratustra4​, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists​, @thepotatobleh​,
*join the Tag List here!
⥼ Summary ⥽
It's the night of Vlad's masquerade ball, the most prestigious social event a vampire can attend. An entire ballroom full of faces and names every vampire in Europe knows... and apparently Nadya is going to upstage them all.
content warnings: language
[READ IT ON AO3]
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A pretty big chunk of their plan relies on the staff of the Tepes Estate being just as snobbish and uppity as the man they serve.
So thankfully at least something is both easily predictable and surprisingly convenient.
Staff all around, and none of them pay the pair of them much mind. Beyond the fact that they get told by more than one footman that “guests really shouldn’t be back in the staff corridors” and receive multiple warnings about how “the Count has ensured all guests for the evening, (said while looking down the biggest snooty nose in all of Prague no less) no matter their prestige, will receive adequate time to sup on the serving staff,” and that they “really shouldn’t be allowing an undisclosed human on the premises but will look the other way this time,” Nadya and Cadence are pretty much left to their own devices.
Which means scurrying out of sight before any lone particularly loyal member of the Tepes household decides to go narc and everything ends up exploding in their faces anyway.
Because there’s no way on earth these full-face masques of theirs are providing any damage cover should their plans go KABOOM!
Nadya casts another look up at Cadence as they come across their umpteenth fork in the road. Watching him decide between right or left is starting to feel as nerve-wracking as actually choosing which direction they ought to go.
“You’re sure you know where we are?” You’re sure you know we’re going the right way?
“I’m starting to feel like you have less than zero faith in me, Nadya.” He probably thinks the glance down her way is a reassuring one. But the masque over his face is almost too neutral. It’s just a mask but it feels like it’s trying too hard, you know?
“That’s not it at all. This place is just…” A lot.
He barely remembers to reach back and take her by the hand before he chooses left in a hurry. Who knows how much time they’ve wasted just trying to find their way through this seemingly endless castle.
“It takes me a moment to recall the map Serafine showed me before we left, but I’m… ninety percent sure I know exactly where we are.”
“And the other ten percent?”
“Is trying to keep an ear out for party noises. So if you’ll zip it, thank you.”
Admittedly Nadya would have a lot more faith in this plan if it wasn’t just the pair of them, proven stumbling disasters that they are, relying on the apparently flawless memory of a man who literally introduces himself as ‘the one with amnesia.’ She understands the rationale behind it, just as she understands the rationale behind everybody else going through the front door like an entourage of normal party-goers. They have three prestigious faces and what Jax and Lily lack in clout they make up for in being practically invisible as nobodies to this upper echelon of attendees.
But shoving the two bigwigs of their gang — well, the most recognizable face in any room of vampires and the obviously human girl losing her freakin’ mind amid a cluster of the heartbeat-less undead — through the staff entrance with nothing more than simple masks to disguise them and trusting them not to mess up finding their way among the rest in time for some famed big reveal they still don’t know the full-on details of…?
Well if they live through this long enough to chronicle this part of their journey, nobody is ever allowed to even so much as imply via metaphor that Nadya never trusted her friends wholly and completely.
Actually if they’re talking about chronicling stuff, better they leave these more vague and improvised parts of their master quest to the footnotes. That way they can pretend they knew what they were doing the whole time.
For example Nadya isn’t gonna let anyone write down that she got so wrapped up in her thoughts about what may or may not get written down that she walked face-first into a brick wall.
OW.
Not a brick wall, actually.
Cadence turns around and catches Nadya’s mask just before it falls and shatters on the ground. Thank you vampire super-speed.
“Are you okay?” He asks, wide-eyed and worried, hesitant to give her back her disguise to take stock of how she really looks.
That’s such a loaded question though, so Nadya ignores it and rubs the redness on her forehead instead.
“Why’d you stop?”
The vampire takes a moment to look up and down either end of the corridor and even around the next corner. When he’s satisfied they’re alone he pries his own mask off with a groan; practically peeling his flattened hair from where its been stuck to his forehead the moment he put the darn thing on.
“Because,” with pursed lips he blows his fringe out of his eyes, “I’ve been talking this entire time… and even when I ramble you usually have some two cents or other to pitch in.”
That’s fair. Nadya takes back her mask with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, got distracted.”
“That much is obvious. Care to share?”
“Not really. Care to keep going?” Not like they’re exactly full of free time, here.
He sweeps his arm in an after you motion, but keeps pace with Nadya’s shorter stride. “I can hear the string quartet by now. We’re close, but they haven’t begun the announcements Serafine told me to wait for.” So maybe they have a bit of free time. Got it.
Only now she can’t stop thinking about what will be on the other side of the big grand ballroom doors.
And Nadya without her set of note cards to at least help her through her dumb speech all because her dumb dress has no dumb pockets.
“You know I still don’t get why they wouldn’t budge about you not being discovered.”
“You don’t see me complaining,” Cadence says with a shrug; and actually now that he points it out…
“No, I don’t.”
He doesn’t need to look at her to know exactly why she says it that way, either. It’s not the first time they’ve had this talk. Probably won’t be the last either.
His sigh sags from his shoulders to his fingertips. “‘Surprise warmonger back from the dead’ might accidentally eclipse ‘reincarnation of the vampire Goddess.’ Can’t have that, now can we.”
“Cadence.”
“Nadya.”
They turn another corner in complete silence. Nadya’s ears strain to hear this quartet of his but nope, not close enough for her poor human ears quite yet.
Finally Cadence seems to decide on something. Gathering himself up all the way to his full height while fiddling with the porcelain in his grasp. “Actually… Serafine and Kamilah gave me the option. When they talked about prestige all this week it was largely assuming I might be able to pretend just enough to add to their collective fame. But they gave me the choice as to whether or not I wanted to try.”
“And you said no.”
“Of course I said no. I don’t envy you, Nadya. You have to do this regardless of whether or not you want to. But for the first time it feels like I’m not in that position, and I want to take full advantage of it.”
His face falls, voice going somber. “Surely you can see why.”
She can. She did, in the flesh, and while he’d been useful at the time she can still close her eyes and remember how easily Cynbel had threatened Jax, hurt Adrian and Serafine; how callous he’d been with her life even though she’d agreed with him at the time… Not to mention all the implied things that come with Serafine, always calm and cool and collected, losing her freakin’ marbles every time he ended up a part of the conversation.
He continues. “I don’t think I could have pretended to be him if my life depended on it. And if you think about it, your life does depend on it in a way. I couldn’t risk you like that. Not after how kind you’ve been to me.”
Her fingers brush over his arm. Cadence either takes it the wrong way or chooses to give a purpose to something so small; he bends his elbow and lets her arm slide into his like a proper escort to a proper ball.
“A lot of people’s lives depend on me pretending to…” Nadya can’t quite say it though, so she swallows it down. “I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do when we get there.”
“Understandably.”
“Seriously,” offering him a wry and dry smile, “that’s all the advice you’ve got?”
He mulls it over for a good and proper think. The effort is more than appreciated even if it doesn’t actually yield results. At least this way she gets to vent it out before messing up royally when the time comes.
Cadence stops first — their linked arms jerk her back and to turn and face him. “I wouldn’t call it advice, per se,” gee—great, “but maybe we both suck at pretending because we ought to be accepting, instead. Accepting who we… were. Possibly, in your case. That way we still have the chance to move on.”
It’s a sweet sentiment, but Nadya can’t help the way her nose scrunches up slightly.
“I don’t think that applies to this case, Cade.”
“Fair enough. Can’t say I didn’t try.” And that makes the pair of them laugh, no matter how weakly. Something neither of them knew they needed, nor how badly they needed it.
It doesn’t last long… but it doesn’t need to.
“You’ll figure it out when the time comes Nadya. You usually do.”
Usually.
In wordless agreement she and Cadence don their pretend masques with mutual reluctance. At least he doesn’t have to breathe in his. But it’s easier this time to see what his face really says beneath that neutral doll-like expression.
She smiles at him in return. Like many things these days they can’t quite see it, but the feeling is there.
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When they get close enough that Nadya’s ears no longer strain to catch the occasional tittering laughter or melodramatic voice, Cadence diverts them yet again. This time for a staircase he just so happens to catch sight of out of the corner of his eye.
He keeps her close; closer than before. Practically hovering over her like a shadow less than a step behind her the whole way up. She pauses when he pauses, she waits when he waits, and trusts him enough to know her faith isn’t misplaced but some explanation would be swell any time he’s feeling his usual chatty self.
Crouched close to the ground (which is a feat for him, for her not so much) Cadence crooks a finger at Nadya to join him in inching steps along the carpet towards the railing overlooking the main foyer below.
Nadya is, understandably, hesitant. “What if someone sees us?” What if someone smells me, hears me, all-of-the-aboves me?
“Same principle as before.”
“Keep close and your blood will cover me up?”
He nods. Not like she really has any other choice. Well, that and the more snatches of conversation she plucks from thin air the more curious she is.
And when has her curiosity ever not won out?
Cadence’s cloak comes heavy around her other shoulder and all but smothers her. She grabs the edge and pulls it tight while making sure not to jostle it from his shoulders. For some reason she can’t shake the feeling like she’s hiding behind a curtain with her feet sticking out underneath.
But they’re here, so they might as well take advantage of it. So Nadya joins him in peering through the stone balusters to the hustle and bustle happening below.
The foyer had been beautiful already during her visit with Serafine and Jax the other night — Nadya would even go so far as to assume it was nearly completed. That assumption would have been vastly incorrect.
It’s not her contacts; she’s not seeing double. Every bauble and ribbon and glittering glassy gem brought along the entire family. There’s practically no surface without something shiny added in some form or another, and in many cases that shiny thing has a shiny thing has a shiny thing of its own on top.
On their own the decorations probably look gaudy and too-much. But when you fill the room with graceful vampires all dolled up in unique fashions and splendors everything else is lost in the background. Tasteful would probably have ended up the equivalent of a fifty-buck Party Town Supply budget. So at least the Count knows his audience.
She should be looking for their friends… and she is. But Nadya tells herself it’s being a good and thorough secret agent to observe all the other guests along the way. Two birds and all that. But it’s not easy to just sweep her eyes over the assembled masses in search of a few key faces. Not when each masque is a face all its own.
You’d think there are only so many combinations of colors, designs, and styles to make before they start getting repetitive. But that couldn’t be farther from the case. She gets it now, seeing everything and everyone from way up high and afar like this. The importance of not just the masque itself, but having the right kind of masque above everything else.
Masquerade balls are about hiding and blending in; being just another face in the crowd.
Les Visages de la Gloire is the exact opposite. And even that feels like the most watered-down way to put it she can think of.
A gentle weight falls on Nadya’s back and she shudders a gasp. When had she stopped breathing? Not for fear of being caught, but at the beauty of it all that could only be described as—literally—breathtaking.
Faceless in their full face-coverings and headdresses each more ostentatious than the last; not important enough to show who they are but still in competition with each other — still with deeds to announce and reputations to uphold. Half-masks covering the left side, the right side, the top of one and the bottom of another and all of them made uniquely for a single soul and nobody else.
Some vampires have masques that match their costumes. Others clash in a way that can’t be anything other than on purpose. Even from a distance Nadya can see the difference between carefully crafted metalwork and porcelain painted with glossy lacquer; can compare wood carvings with rich varnish and contrast that with the vast rainbow of matte colors on terracotta. Most are adorned with embellishments and jewels heavy enough to make her neck hurt just by looking at them.
Nearly all take full advantage of the fact their wearers won’t end up suffocating on the other side.
And I’m supposed to show them all up without so much as a sheer ribbon over my eyes? Yeah, Nadya’s confidence takes a knife to the gut just thinking about it.
“Over there.”
Not like Cadence’s finger isn’t pointing down to a massive crowd or anything, but that’s exactly the point — forgive the pun.
Though they can’t quite see double doors leading inside the castle from the exterior from their hiding spot, the sudden hush that falls over the idle crowd offers up an equally dramatic entrance.
It’s the kind of arrival that would be filmed in slow-motion. The kind that pans up from the purposeful echo of each expensive step; dragging over the exquisite details of their costumes in one long smooth glide all the way to the big reveal. And what a reveal it is.
Kamilah’s spindly masque may be made of steel but it curls over her sharp features with all the grace of a silken thread. It’s a face covering by only the thinnest margin of definition, with too many gaps in the framework to even pretend to conceal her identity. But after taking in the rest of the crowd… it’s obvious she’s the kind of face — the kind of presence — that simply can’t go unrecognized.
Everything about Kamilah, from her posture to her raised chin to her not-at-all-faked aura of superiority, demands recognition.
On the surface she’s the woman that Nadya knows; that she trusts and cares about so so much. But look beneath, something all too easy to do — like sweeping aside a mist, it’s impossible to miss how she’s so much more.
The Bloodqueen has arrived. And the entire foyer is speechless before her.
Without even moving a muscle the closest groups stagger back several more steps. Dozens of them nearly tripping over themselves and each other in their haste.
It’s no surprise that the space is quickly taken up by the two figures flanking Kamilah’s sides.
Serafine’s masque isn’t so much a mask as it is a scrap of lace just wide enough to earn the collective approval. As if anyone here doesn’t already know who she is regardless. But that’s how she can pull the look off if Nadya is remembering her explanation right.
No one would dare partake in Les Visages without knowing—without introduction—the woman who started it all.
Some final vestiges of their psychic connection tugs Nadya towards her; not physically so much as emotionally. Even without seeing Serafine’s features up close there’s a bittersweet ache in her chest that’s definitely not Nadya’s own.
The vampiress can offer up all the scarlet-lipped smiles she wishes. They are all hollow and fake. The simple act of being here causes Serafine nothing but distress.
And then there was Adrian.
Who, in comparison to Kamilah and Serafine, makes the women nearest him seem positively giddy and gleeful to be here tonight.
He wears his tailored costume perfectly; that wasn’t in doubt. It’s the masque that leaves him stony-faced. Gold rich and dark that catches every little flame on the chandelier over his head that covers his eyes but can’t hide the tension wracking his jaw.
He and Kamilah both wear near-identical rich crimson garnets inlaid just beneath their masque’s right eye. Shared stones for a shared Maker. But along his edges are thin metal spires, short but wicked sharp, that vary from the same gold, to steel, to a coppery hue.
A second glance confirms Nadya’s suspicions; Adrian isn’t the only one with those kinds of embellishments along the edges of their masques. Scouring a few of them from the crowd, the way they carry themselves and mirror Adrian’s ramrod-straight posture answers a question she didn’t know she needed to ask.
If the garnet labels him and Kamilah both as Turned by Gaius, then the spikes are the mark of the soldier. Any soldier; but one worth recognition for their service.
Which is everything Adrian doesn’t want. Everything he had worried over, and was working now towards overcoming in the wake of his past.
Nadya ducks her head hastily to catch her tear before it falls. Thankfully she’s quick enough. If only she could wipe away the reason for it just as easily.
Pull yourself together, girl, she scolds, and it’s just enough to do the trick and pull Nadya’s focus back to everything around them. All the stillness and nothingness and the way a room full of the undead hold their collective unnecessary breath waiting for what will happen next.
Which is exactly the kind of attention-grabbing showstopper the three of them are supposed to be. All eyes turned on the prestigious trio they are together, and away from Nadya and Cadence one floor above.
All focus on who they are, why they’ve come, what they will do; and away from the practically invisible dynamic duo that slips through the crowd towards the closed ballroom doors.
Behind her, Cadence lets out an impressed little “hah” when he finally manages to pick Lily and Jax out of the crowd. “I completely missed them. Did you see them sneak in?”
“No,” answers Nadya, but that’s actually a good thing. That was the whole point.
Without a word Kamilah takes one step forward. Her aura of command acts like an invisible shield that parts the rest; holding them at a respectable distance.
But the sudden shifting of the mass of faces and their masques gets dangerous when it turns right in their direction. If even one wandering eye looks up, they’re done for!
Without a word the vampire pulls Nadya backwards, letting the force of his bulk pull them out of eyesight in the nick of time. That was a little close, huh.
Nadya doesn’t get the chance to thank him though.
The moment she opens her mouth a loud echoing clang rings out below them, followed by the distinct shuffle of something heavy being dragged achingly close to the foyer’s marble floors.
Neither of them needs to risk sneaking a look.
Right on time. The ballroom doors have finally opened, allowing the first wave of prestige to spill forth out to the grand dance floor.
And though the shuffling of boots and sharp tapping of heels fills the vacuum of stunned silence as the attendees start to move, it’s not nearly enough noise to drown out the sudden and familiar exuberant laughter of delight that echoes across every polished surface below. The kind of laughter designed to be projected across adoring crowds; and carefully rehearsed to always seem full of intriguing promise.
What Nadya wouldn’t give to borrow a little of Vlad Tepes’ seemingly endless confidence for her own performance… looming ever-closer and starting to pick up real steam.
“Remember my lovelies! Faceless and no-names, see yourselves inside. New blood and the lucky virginal attendees right beside them!”
Her full-body shiver of discomfort is more than warranted. But Nadya only wishes she could be surprised at his… unsettling word choice.
“I’m suddenly very glad to be up here.”
She snorts at the wide-eyed stare looking out from Cadence’s mask. “You and me both.”
“Yes yes darling, oh you look a treat. And you there — you must tell me the story behind that engraving later, you simply must.” It’s really to their luck and benefit that the Count likes hearing himself talk so much. They can stay far away from the railing and still keep tabs on what gauge of prestige is next to be welcomed into the bal masqué proper.
They just have to wait until everyone—Vlad included—is inside. Everyone but the most prestigious of the lot of them. And when all eyes are (once again) on the Bloodqueen herself… they’ll have no choice but to witness Nadya’s arrival.
Having Kamilah by her side might just give her the kick in the metaphorical pants to do this thing. Not the literal though. There’s no way this practically bleach-white linen getup will survive a boot print, and especially not to the rear end.
Down below there’s a momentary lull; all but shattered by Vlad’s returning laughter now pitched higher than before.
“Why there you are, Serafine! Here I worried I had somehow lost track of your arrival in the excitement.”
His words are followed by two unmistakably wet noises; which Nadya prays are just over-dramatic kisses to her cheeks.
“Surely you jest,” she teases good-naturedly; said with all the humor of someone whose smile can’t possibly reach her eyes, “I see before me you follow the old traditions quite well. Showing the prestigious their due, their arrival witnessed by all who look to them in admiration.”
“Well of course! It makes for the grandest of entrances.”
“Ah, yes,” the elder vampiress croons, “and as the illustrious host yours would be the last, non?”
“Don’t worry darling — I would never claim credit for your centuries of contribution to our dwindling community.”
“Meaning?”
Somehow Nadya just knows Vlad throws his hair back unnecessarily as he laughs again.
“You can enter just before me, of course.”
“Then when, may I ask, might you suggest my blood-kin Adrian and I make our entrance known, old friend?”
Unlike Serafine, who at least pretends to smile while enduring the torture of his conversation, Kamilah’s question is cold and clipped. It rings with all the disinterest of the Kamilah that Nadya had met so long ago — and she’d place good money on the single raised eyebrow hiked high enough to be seen over her masque, too.
But if anyone could render Vlad speechless…
Nadya struggles to hear something, anything, until she catches the faint rustle of stiff and expensive fabric moving with haste. Vlad’s gesture of greeting, no doubt.
Just like she has no doubt that Kamilah and Adrian don’t humor him as long as Serafine has. It certainly explains the flustered, hasty way his next words tumble from his tongue with practically no filter.
“All the best surprises are the ones that sweep one off his feet. My humble gathering of our kind—nay, our family—from the nearest branch to the farthest root is made absolutely resplendent by the honor of your presence!
“Your Majesty, mon cherie —” —a beat, his attention likely shifting to Adrian— “— and Sergeant Adrian Raines, just when I had resigned myself to an evening of only the old and antiquated in renown. Here you stand before me, as handsome as the day we first met.”
Nadya quickly schools her bewildered expression — too long and it might get stuck that way. But that is flirtation if she’s ever heard it. Not good flirtation, but nevertheless.
“Vlad, as… lively… as ever.” Adrian just barely recovers, but now she’s dying to know what he had almost said instead. “Hard to believe it’s been nearly seventy-five years since last we met. Time… flies so quickly.”
“Oh pish posh,” replies the Count, “you wouldn’t know it but for the calendars. My memory of those chiseled features of yours obviously needed a refresh.”
He’s barely finished speaking when he gasps, clapping his hands together delightedly. “Speaking of memory! You’ll have to forgive my fright. As you all know surely, my recollection skills are of world-renown. Yet the sight of you all almost thrust me spiraling into self-doubt.
“And not without good reason! As I could have sworn you — the both of you, that is to say — had… cast aside your former titles.”
It’s just like before. Everything that pops into his head said without a filter all the way up until what he’s saying isn’t as vapid as it was at the start.
It must be so easy to write Vlad Tepes off at first glance. Just look at the public opinion of the guy. Nadya had, she’s humble enough to admit it. But the hard truth is that he is Vlad Tepes; he is Count Dracula.
But whether he’s all the things the myths and legends claim or not it can’t go ignored that he knows what he’s doing (even if it doesn’t seem like it). He knows how to play a crowd, how to stroke an ego. He’s a master of misdirection.
Has nobody pitched a Vegas residency to this guy yet? Seriously?
But if he thinks he’s going to out-wit someone like Kamilah he must have those leather pants on just a little too tight.
She doesn’t address his comment. Brushing it aside proves a much more important point.
“Shall Adrian and I wait patiently here while you and Serafine follow through, then?”
Vlad must be used to playing the ‘host with the most’ card, because he hesitates. But Kamilah wasn’t asking — she was just being polite.
“Yes,” he finally agrees, though surprisingly less strained than Nadya would have expected. “I would not dare nor dream of presuming your prestige. Nor would I separate the grand entrance of the progeny of our King.
“The three of you will have a most celebratory announcement, I give you my word.”
Did she hear that right?
Serafine offers a gentle tittering laugh. “I see no reason why you and I should not enter together, ma puce.”
“We shall.”
Vlad’s words die to the sound of heavy heels across the foyer floor. Too many steps to be one of her friends; but certainly more than enough for them to bring a person across the length of the room to where they are gathered.
Of course something is going wrong. They should have anticipated something going wrong. They had, her brain reminds her, and probably thinks its being helpful by doing so.
She dares to inch just close enough to catch a glimpse down below and spoiler alert — it isn’t helpful at all.
With his head held high, Marc Antony makes a bold statement in taking Kamilah’s hand without it being offered. Then he goes a step further with a half-bow and a kiss pressed to the back — or the ghost of one. He barely manages it before she yanks it from his grasp — in surprise, in anger, that’s not the part that matters.
With everyone fixated on the two oldest vampires in the room, Adrian dares to steal a glance of warning up to the railing. Wide-eyed and with pursed lips, the message when he gives the tiniest shake of his head is clear.
Nadya retreats, practically crab-walking backwards.
Cadence tries to help her sudden shaking panic with an arm over her shoulders. It’s the thought that counts.
“What,” he asks worriedly, “who is it?”
“Antony,” Nadya exhales, and the man goes rigid beside her. “It’s Marc Antony.”
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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years
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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic
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Chapter 26: Jon
When Jon’s grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep, not long after his twenty-fourth birthday, he quickly discovered that her life insurance and savings weren’t enough to cover all the bills that needed to be covered and put the house he’d grown up in on the market. He only vaguely remembers the whole procedure, as he was in something of a state of shock at the time, but he does remember accepting the first offer presented to him despite the realtor’s comments that he could “probably hold out for a bit more” if he wanted. Thus, he’s the only one not really startled at the speed with which he, Martin, and Tim find out that they’ve got the house.
To be clear: He’s not startled at the speed. He is, however, startled that they got it. Surely someone must have been willing to pay more for it, been better qualified. But no. They learn their offer has been accepted less than a week after the Primes’ disastrous encounter with Basira’s partner and the closing is scheduled for the following Friday. Martin theorizes that their position at the Magnus Institute gave them some extra clout. Tim jokes that it’s his charismatic personality. Jon frets that Elias might have had something to do with it for nefarious purposes.
Sasha finally does some research and tells them that it’s being sold by a pair of siblings barely out of their teens whose parents died unexpectedly and probably just need the money fast.
Martin doesn’t have much, just the little he managed to bring with him to the Institute when first escaping Jane Prentiss and the few things he’s re-acquired since then, and Jon’s things are still packed up from when he declined to renew the lease on his flat in August, so it’s mostly just Tim who needs to decide what he’s keeping and what he’s ready to part with or needs to replace. It takes them the better part of two Saturdays, but they manage to get everything boxed and sorted in time to move out the last full weekend of September.
The moving-in process is surprisingly fun. Sasha and the Primes even come to help (Tim suggests the latter so that Martin Prime knows his way around the house from the get-go, which is actually really sensible) and they make a party of it. Tim insists on setting up the sound system first, then gets everyone to contribute a certain number of songs to a playlist on some app he has on his phone. He puts it on shuffle and lets it play while they work together on the various rooms.
“Oh, my God,” Sasha moans after the eighth song that she evidently didn’t pick comes on. “Do any of you listen to a single band that’s put out an album since 1984?”
“Yes,” Martin says indignantly, his cheeks coloring slightly.
“Remasters don’t count.”
Martin Prime grins. “None of mine have come up, either.”
“What did you put on?” Sasha asks suspiciously.
She gets her answer a few minutes later when, after shuffle coughs up a Spice Girls song they all tease her mercilessly about, an honest to God sea shanty comes on. Tim and Jon laugh at Sasha’s dramatic, despairing groan, but it’s hard not to respond to the Martins’ enthusiasm as they—surprisingly—harmonize along with the recording while they set up the living room.
They’re almost done assembling the new bed Tim bullied Jon into buying (“You’re not in uni anymore, you don’t need to be sleeping on a futon, and anyway, when was this made, the Thatcher premiership?” “Brown, and shut up, Tim.”), which is the last piece of furniture they need to put together, when there’s a sound from the front door—two firm, solid knocks, audible all the way upstairs. Jon nearly drops the screwdriver as his heart kicks against his ribs. It’s stupid, and he knows it’s stupid, but two knocks like that always makes him think of that book.
Tim makes a noise in the back of his throat. “God, hope the music isn’t too loud.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Martin says, but he sounds uncertain. “I-I mean, it’s been ages.”
Jon pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll check.”
He hurries out of the bedroom before anyone can comment on the clear break in his voice. He is, and there is no way to deny it to himself, legitimately afraid of what might be outside. The likelihood of it being a being of another entity is slim, but…well, there was Mr. Spider, and Jane Prentiss knocked on Martin’s door more than a few times to keep him off-balance, so there’s always the chance. It’s something he feels he can deal with, though, so he heads out to face it.
He does not, however, expect to open the door and be faced with what is either a small child or a casserole dish with tennis shoes.
“Hello,” a tiny voice says brightly from behind the dish. There’s a bit of shifting, and then two big brown eyes and a mass of curls appear over the rim. “I’ve brought you a cake.”
Jon will deny to his dying day that those words freeze his blood in his veins and make his heart stutter to a stop, but since this might actually be his dying day, he’ll be lying if he tries. His lips part, but no sound comes out.
“And a casserole, too,” the child continues, completely oblivious to Jon’s unwarranted panic attack. “That’s not as much fun, though, but Nan says it’s important to eat good, hearty food when you’ve been doing lots of work and that cake shouldn’t be a whole meal. I think there’s no point in being a grown-up if you can’t eat whatever you want, but…” The child heaves an enormous, dramatic sigh that seems too large for such a small body. “My Nan’s very, very old, and you don’t get to be old if you don’t do something right, so she must know what she’s talking about. Anyway, we made the casserole with lots and lots of cheese and she said that was okay, so at least it’s a little better.”
“Ah—thank you?” Jon manages. “H-here, let me…take that.”
He manages to extract the casserole dish, which certainly feels as if it’s laden with cheese; it weighs the proverbial ton. Quite possibly a literal one. It’s solid enough to anchor Jon to reality, though, and he studies his benefactor. The child can’t be more than seven or eight, at the most, with a round face and limbs hidden in an oversized, threadbare sweater that looks like it’s been handed down through more than a few generations. Dangling from one arm is a wicker basket that does indeed appear to contain a cake.
“It’s a chocolate cake with marshmallow frosting,” the child says. “I tried to write ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ on it, but I didn’t put the tip on the piping bag right and it came off, so now it’s just a mess, but it’ll taste just as good, I promise. My Nan makes the best cakes.”
Jon smiles in spite of himself. “I don’t think I have enough hands to take it from you now. Would you mind bringing it into the kitchen for me?”
“Oh, sure!” The child practically hops over the threshold. “I always wanted to see what this house was like on the inside. Tibby used to babysit for me sometimes, but she always came over to our house, never me coming over here. Nan says it’s better that way, and Tibby always said it was laid out exactly like all the other houses, but it’s not the same as seeing it for yourself. Firsthand knowledge is best, that’s what I think. What do you think?”
“I—I think I agree with you,” Jon says. He also feels a bit like he’s staring at his younger self. “I assume you live in one of the other houses on the row?”
“Two doors down,” the child agrees cheerfully. “With the window boxes. My Nan likes to garden a bit, but she can’t bend over so much anymore, so Toby set up the window boxes for her a couple years ago.”
“And, uh, who is…Toby?”
“Oh, sorry, I thought you knew. Toby McGill. He and Tibby—that’s his sister Tabitha, but everyone calls her Tibby—they were the ones selling this house after their parents died. He’s at Surrey University now and he says he’s going to stay out there when it’s all said and done, and Tibby got a job on a boat.” The child sounds deeply impressed. “I want to be a sailor someday, too. Can you imagine getting to see the whole wide world by water and getting paid for it, too? I’d never want to leave. I told Tibby she has to save a spot on the crew for me and she laughed and promised, so I can’t wait. I’m going as soon as I grow up. I’m not going to university. You don’t need to go to university for everything, you know. I know Nan really wants me to go ‘cause Mum didn’t and neither did Dad and she doesn’t want me turning out like them, but you can turn out well even if you don’t go to university, can’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Jon says gravely. He casts an involuntary glance in the direction of the stairs, thinking of Martin. “One of my housemates didn’t go to university, and he’s one of the most brilliant people I know.”
“How many of you live here, anyway?”
“Just three of us.” Jon has no idea how much this child has seen and how many people he knows are in the house at the moment.
“Oh. There used to be three of us in my house, too.” The child scuffs a toe against the carpet just before they step into the kitchen. “And then there was going to be four, but Mum died and the baby did, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Jon says softly, feeling a pang. “I grew up with my grandmother, too.”
The child looks up at Jon and smiles, in such a way that Jon can’t help but smile back. “And you turned out okay.”
“Debatable,” Jon says. He sets the casserole dish on the counter. “I’m Jon, by the way. Jonathan Sims.”
“I’m Charlie. Charlie Cane.” The child smiles up at him and hands over the basket. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Tell your grandmother we said thank you. I don’t know that any of us will have the energy to cook tonight. We’ll bring back the dishes tomorrow.”
“There’s no hurry. Nan doesn’t go anywhere.” Charlie flashes Jon a grin that’s missing two teeth, then turns and waves to the doorway. Jon glances up to see Martin, looking somewhere between worried and amused. “Hi! I’m Charlie Cane. Welcome to the neighborhood. Do you live here, too?”
“Um…yes. I’m Martin Blackwood. It’s…nice to meet you?” Martin raises an eyebrow at Jon.
“Charlie and his grandmother made us a casserole,” Jon says, gesturing at the counter. “And a cake.”
“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” Martin smiles at Charlie and winks, although Jon doesn’t quite understand why.
“Welcome.” Charlie’s beaming smile could probably light the house for a week. “I’d best go before Nan thinks I’m doing something stupid again. See you later!”
He’s out the front door before Jon can respond, or even blink. He looks back to Martin, who isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Jon. We were just wondering if you were okay. You were gone for a while.”
Jon gestures vaguely at the front door. “I don’t think that child has many people to talk to. Or at least not many people who will listen to him.”
Martin snorts. “I think you’ve got yourself a new best friend.”
Jon almost wants to say something flippant like Just what I need, but thinking on it, he actually doesn’t mind all that much. “Considering how much I would have given to have an adult pay that kind of attention to me when I was his age, I think I can handle that.”
Martin reaches over and pulls Jon into a hug. Jon lets himself be comforted for a moment, then extricates himself gently and smiles. “Come on. Let’s see if the others are ready to eat.”
As it turns out, the others finished putting together the bed and even made it while Jon talked to Charlie, so they’re all too happy to come into the kitchen for a hearty meal. It’s exactly as cheese-laden as Charlie promised. Jon recounts his conversation, to general amusement, although something flickers briefly across Martin Prime’s face and Jon Prime shoots Jon an understanding and slightly frightened look when he repeats Charlie’s opening words. If anyone else notices, they give no sign of it.
Tim lets the music keep playing while they eat. Jon mostly tunes it out, no pun intended, and he rather suspects the others do too. But just as they’re scraping their plates clean—the food is delicious, and Tim declares he’s going to try and charm Charlie’s grandmother out of the recipe—Martin Prime suddenly tilts his head to one side, as if trying to catch a sound. A smile twitches at his lips, and he stands up and holds out a hand to Jon Prime. “May I?”
Jon Prime looks startled for a split-second, then smiles—no, grins—and places his hand in Martin Prime’s. He lets Martin Prime pull him away from the table and into his arms, and the two of them start slow-dancing.
Jon pauses, fork suspended over his plate, and watches them. Jon Prime lets Martin Prime lead him in a simple box step, one arm draped casually over Martin Prime’s shoulder, while Martin Prime’s hand rests firmly at his waist; their other fingers are laced together in a way that would make it difficult to telegraph intended moves if they didn’t—probably—know each other so well. The space between them is so little it’s a wonder they don’t constantly trip over each other’s feet, and before long their foreheads touch. The song is gentle and plaintive, encouragement from one partner to the other to trust and relax and allow the first to take care of the second, a promise that the second person won’t be considered weak or lesser if they allow themselves to be comforted.
I promise you’ll be safe here in my arms…
Martin Prime lifts his arm and spins Jon Prime around gently, and when Jon Prime comes back into the closed frame, he leans his head against the shoulder where his hand isn’t resting and closes his eyes. Martin Prime pulls him closer and rests his cheek alongside Jon Prime’s as they continue dancing. It’s one of the most intimate and romantic things Jon has ever seen, and he almost has to look away from it.
Almost. Not quite. Something keeps him drawn, and there’s a tiny part of Jon’s brain that suggests it probably isn’t just the pleasure at seeing someone who’s basically him safe and happy and in love mixed with the vague sense of longing for something like that—maybe not that exactly, but something like it. It may also be that watching the Primes slow dancing means he doesn’t have to look at anyone else.
The song plays itself out. Martin Prime turns his head slightly; Jon Prime turns his at the same time, and their lips meet gently in the middle. This time Jon does look away. He’s never quite been able to figure out how he feels about kissing, to be honest; it’s one of the things that sent his and Georgie’s relationship down in flames, was the fact that he always acted like you think I’ve got poison in my lip gloss, according to her. But he finds himself wondering for a moment what Martin’s lips would feel like against his, if they’d be as soft and warm as the rest of him. If it might make a difference to kiss Martin instead of Georgie, or Meredith, or Kelly. And that’s not a question he’s comfortable asking himself just then, let alone trying to answer.
The scrape of a chair breaks his attention, and he looks up to see the Primes sitting down like nothing happened, although they’re still holding hands. Tim clears his throat. “Who wants cake?”
The cake is, as promised, a bit of a mess—it looks like someone tried to tease out the blob created by the icing tip popping off with a toothpick or something, but the resultant design looks like the pictures someone showed Jon once of a web woven by a spider that had been fed caffeine, and the fact that the icing is bright red doesn’t help—but it is absolutely delicious.
Afterward, Tim and Jon store the leftovers while Martin and Sasha start on the dishes. Jon Prime glances at the kitchen clock and touches Martin Prime on the shoulder. “We should probably go. The later it gets, the more likely that…someone might cruise by the Institute, and I’d rather not risk that.”
Martin Prime squeezes Jon Prime’s hand gently, and Jon swallows on the sudden surge of nausea. They haven’t seen anything of Detective Tonner, and Basira didn’t say anything about her when she showed up last week to switch out the tapes, but the memory of the Primes’ faces when they stumbled back to Tim’s place to change and return his car is a hard one to shake. Even though Jon Prime swears he and Daisy eventually became friends, it’s the eventually that sticks out, and Jon isn’t sure what he’ll do if Daisy turns up at the Institute. It’s also obvious that the Primes are more afraid of her than they’re letting on.
Tim opens his mouth, probably to invite them to spend the night or something, but Sasha beats him to it. “Can you wait a few minutes? I’d rather not walk to the tube station by myself, if it comes to that, and I think you said there’s an entrance to the tunnels near there.”
Jon Prime frowns slightly. “I…don’t think I did, but there is.”
“We’ll walk with you, Sasha,” Martin Prime assures her.
Tim sighs theatrically. “I feel a little better, which is a relative statement not to be taken as approval.”
“Your objection is duly noted.” Sasha hands Martin a plate to dry.
All too soon, everything is cleaned up, just as the playlist comes to an end, and there’s really no way of stalling them further. There’s a round of hugs and see-you-Mondays, and then Sasha and the Primes head out the door, leaving Jon, Martin, and Tim alone in their new house.
It’s not that late, comparatively, so Jon suggests a card game. They’ve played most nights since Sasha went back to sleeping in her own flat; they’ve played a couple of games of Rummy or Go Fish, and Tim once tried to teach Jon and Martin a game he learned from his grandparents that uses a forty-card deck (Martin picked it up quickly, Jon did not), but most of the time they play Crazy Eights. Tim declares that they’re going to keep playing until either he or Jon or both manage to overtake Martin’s score, which is clearly going to be an impossible task, as he’s up by nearly a thousand points and consistently wins at least three or four games a night. Still, they give it a valiant effort. After Martin manages to go out while both Tim and Jon still have an eight each in their hand, though, they decide to call it quits for one night.
“Someday I’ll figure out how you keep doing that,” Jon says, shuffling the deck lightly before putting it back in the box.
Martin shrugs. “Practice, I guess? I used to play with my granddad a lot when I was younger. We kept a running total, too, and I think I was up three thousand points or so when he died.”
Tim gives a low whistle. “How old were you?”
“Nine. We’d been playing pretty regularly since I was five. At least one game every time I went to visit.”
Jon thinks back to the conversation he and Martin had in Tim’s kitchen the morning after Prentiss’s attack. “Is this the grandfather who had the cherry trees?”
“You remembered.” Martin looks pleased. “Yeah, he was my mum’s dad. I never met my dad’s family, that I remember anyway.” He pauses. “You, uh, you told Charlie you were raised by your grandmother. Was that…?”
Jon didn’t know Martin was there, but he’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to figure out how to bring it up. “My father’s mother. She was…formidable. My father died when I was two, from an accidental fall, and my mother died a couple years later. Surgery complications.”
“I’m sorry,” Martin says softly. “That must have been hard on you.”
“Harder on my grandmother, I think. I was barely old enough to remember them.” All Jon remembers of his father is his laugh, and he’s fairly certain that most of his memories of his mother come from his aunt.
Tim leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “Is she still around? Your grandmother?”
Jon shakes his head. “She died just before I started working at the Institute. What about yours, Tim?”
“My dad’s dad is the only grandparent still around. I think.” Tim worries at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment. “I’d like to think someone would call me if something happened, but I don’t know.”
Martin hums sympathetically. “Is he…in a home?”
“Not as far as I know. Last I heard, he was still living with my parents. Moved in when Granny died, just after I left for university.” Tim sighs. “We’re not…close. After Danny…”
Jon reaches over and touches Tim’s arm gently. “It must be hard on them, losing a son. No parent expects to outlive their child.”
“That’s just it. Mum refuses to believe he’s dead.” Tim smiles weakly. “No body, you know? Dad isn’t sure, but he also thinks I know more than I’ve told them. Grandfather all but accused me of having a hand in Danny’s disappearance.”
“What?” Jon blinks, shocked. “How could anyone think you’d—you would never.”
“I know, but…well, Dad’s family was always a bit conservative, blue collar and all that, and I’m…well, me. I think that’s why Dad encouraged my hiking and camping and all that. Hoped it would knock some ‘sense’ into me,” Tim says with a wry twist of his lips. “Once I came out as bi, though, I think they decided there was no hope left for me. It just got worse after Danny died.”
Martin’s expressive face closes down, and Jon’s stomach lurches. This is the most they’ve talked about their families in…ever, he thinks, but from the little bits of information Martin—and Martin Prime, for that matter—have let slip, Jon has formed a very unfavorable impression of Martin’s mother. He’s always kind of had a hazy idea that Tim’s family situation was better, especially after he heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Danny when giving his statement, and finding out that it wasn’t much better than theirs…
“How old were you?” he asks, not sure why. “When you—told them.”
“Seventeen. There was a guy I’d been seeing—nothing serious, really, but we had fun together—and we went out for Valentine’s Day. My parents were confused because they knew my girlfriend and I had just broken up before Christmas and I hadn’t mentioned another girl, so I told them about Steve.” Tim gets quiet for a second. “Mum cried. Dad just…told me to stop upsetting my mother and never brought it up again. Not until Grandfather started in on me.”
Jon swallows. “You’ve a great deal more courage than I have. I—I never admitted to my grandmother that I ever had any interest in boys, let alone dated one.”
“Only one? You’re missing out.” Tim’s grin is a pale echo of his usual one, but it is at least genuine. “How ‘bout you, Martin?”
“A few.” Martin relaxes with a visible effort that makes Jon’s heart ache. “Been out since I was fourteen. Mum reacted…about as well as she reacted any other time I told her something she didn’t like or did something she wasn’t expecting. I never brought anyone home to meet her or…really talked to her about my dating, and she only ever brought it up in relation to herself. Like saying it was a good thing there wasn’t any risk of me passing on any of my numerous undesirable traits to a helpless child.”
“I don’t think your mum understands what ‘bisexual’ means,” Tim points out.
“Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m gay.” Martin grimaces. “I’m also ace, so no risk there anyway, but…”
Jon wants to say any child would be fortunate to count you as a father or I can’t think of a single undesirable trait about you, but what actually comes out is, “Ace?”
“Uh, asexual. It’s—I don’t…get attracted like that. Romance, sure, aesthetic stuff and all that, but not…” Martin gestures vaguely. “Tried it anyway, for a couple of guys I was with, but i-it didn’t go well.”
Jon’s world view shifts abruptly on its axis. Tim, though, looks suddenly worried. “Are you okay? They didn’t—”
“No, no,” Martin says quickly. “It wasn’t—I just don’t like it. That’s all.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Never bothered telling Mum that part. She wouldn’t…I’ve done enough damage.”
Tim pulls Martin into a quick one-armed hug, and Jon reaches across the table to squeeze his hand as gently as he can, but they change the subject after that.
They end up sitting up for a while in their new living room, relaxing. Tim props his feet up in the recliner and works on a crossword; Jon curls up at one end of the sofa with a book he’s been meaning to read for years that Jon Prime assures him he’ll love; Martin sits at the other end and knits. It about bowled Jon over completely when he learned that Martin made most of the sweaters he wears, but the sight and sound of him working away has become increasingly familiar in the last few weeks, especially after the Primes and the rest of the crew collaborated to get him an array of needles and knitting wool in all colors of the rainbow for his birthday. Jon usually finds the gentle clicking of the needles soothing, but tonight it’s just a hair distracting, and he keeps glancing up from the page to watch Martin’s fingers as they expertly manipulate the yarn or Tim tap the eraser of his pencil thoughtfully against his jaw while he contemplates an answer. He’s not even quite sure what he’s looking at.
Finally, Tim lays down his puzzle with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna turn in,” he says, sounding oddly reluctant. “Long day and all that.”
“Yeah, I’m just gonna—” Martin works a couple more stitches and folds up his project. “Probably a good stopping place for tonight.”
Jon considers saying he’s going to stay in the living room and finish the chapter he’s on, but if he’s being completely honest, he’s been on the same page for however long it’s been and hasn’t taken in a single word. Silently, he slides the scrap of paper he’s currently using as a bookmark back between the pages and closes the book. “Well. Good night, then.”
“’Night, Jon.”
The bedrooms are all upstairs, two on one side and one on the other with the bathroom handy, and the three of them wish each other goodnight again before disappearing into their rooms. Jon closes the door and looks around the room, his room.
There’s not much to it, to be honest. A nightstand, a dresser, a battered desk he’s had since he was a child, a lamp and the bed. He sets the book on top of the desk and changes into his comfortable sleep clothes, then crawls into the bed and pulls the covers up over his shoulders.
It’s…odd. No, not odd. Jon can’t quite think of the right word for it. But the sheets feel unfamiliar against his skin, and they don’t smell right, either, probably because they’re new. The mattress that felt perfectly comfortable when he tested it out in the store doesn’t seem to afford the same comfort now, and he wonders if the floor model has simply had much of the stiffness tested out of it over time. Even the pillows, which he did retain from his old bedroom setup, seem determined to thwart his attempts to find a comfortable position.
He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, arm draped over his midsection. He won’t fall asleep like this, he’s always been a side-sleeper, but his mind is a seething roil of emotions and he needs to get his thoughts under control before he can even have a hope of getting comfortable enough to sleep, he guesses.
Asexual. Jon probes at the word, at what it describes. I don’t get attracted like that. I just don’t like it. Honestly, until meeting Georgie, Jon had no idea that sort of attraction really existed; he thought it was just something out of the lurid romance novels his grandmother favored and he’d read once or twice in sheer desperation. It was something she’d wanted, though, so he���d tried a few times, but his efforts hadn’t satisfied her and he never really saw what all the fuss was about. He can take it or leave it, preferably the latter.
He never knew there was a word for it.
Suddenly, he wants to talk to Martin about it, about how he realized, how he knew. Where he found the word. If there are many more like—well, like them, he supposes. If that’s one of the reasons he was reluctant to tell Jon how he felt. He wants to ask about Martin’s experiences, if they were bad just because his body didn’t want them or for some other reason. A part of him also wants to cry from sheer relief. He isn’t broken. There’s nothing wrong with him. Well, not in that respect, anyway.
He sighs heavily and rolls onto his side again, plumping the pillows and curling one arm around them. They’re too flat, he thinks idly, too soft and yielding. Which is odd, because that’s never bothered him before. He can’t seem to get warm, either, which is also bizarre because it’s been an unusually mild day for late September and he’s under the duvet he’s had for years, which suddenly seems too light and insubstantial. The room is too quiet and still. It all feels…wrong, somehow.
Jon closes his eyes and stubbornly tries to force sleep, to no avail. The sense of wrongness pervades his being, curling through him and keeping him tethered to consciousness. He runs through the list of problems he seems to be having and tries to come up with which one might be keeping him awake. The only thing he can think of is the unfamiliar mattress. Everything else is exactly the way it was in his old flat.
And when was the last time you slept there? The thought hits him all of a sudden, and his eyes snap open. He forgot. The last time he slept in his apartment was the night before Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute. Ever since then, he’s been sleeping in Tim’s living room…or in Tim’s bed. With the others.
That’s all it is. He isn’t used to the silence of being alone. He’s not used to not knowing, right away, exactly where Tim and Martin are and if they’re safe. He’ll just go and check on them, see that they’re safe, and he’ll be able to get to sleep just fine.
He throws back the covers, slides his glasses back on, and heads into the hallway. Jon somehow ended up in the room by the bathroom, while Tim and Martin are on the other side of the hallway. Martin’s room is first, though, so Jon heads there. He’s as careful as he can be. Martin is probably asleep by now. He definitely seemed tired while they were still in the living room, and Jon wonders if he lingered because the other two were still sitting down there. It makes him feel slightly guilty, like he should have called it a night earlier so Martin can get some sleep. And after all, they did have a very emotionally draining conversation, which probably exhausted him as well. All that runs through Jon’s mind as he slowly, slowly eases the door open and peers around it to see into Martin’s room.
It’s sparsely furnished; nothing but a bed and one of those flimsy pop-up cloth jobs bisected into cubes, which is serving as his dresser. Martin’s laptop and phone sit on the floor, both connected to their chargers. The bed is mussed slightly and shows signs of having been occupied, but Jon’s heart rate accelerates when he looks at it. It’s empty.
There’s no sign of a struggle, he tells himself, and he heard nothing, so surely everything is fine. Martin’s probably just in the bathroom, or downstairs getting a glass of water or something. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Jon will just…go check on Tim and Tim will be fine and then he’ll go find Martin and make sure he’s fine and it…will…be…fine. He pulls the door closed and turns to Tim’s room.
The door is slightly ajar, and there’s a faint glow coming from the room. Jon hesitates, then taps lightly on the door three times before easing it open. Tim is sitting up on the bed, cross-legged and leaning forward slightly. And—Jon’s shoulders slump in relief—Martin is there, too, on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off the side and the other tucked underneath him. They’re talking quietly, but both obviously exhausted. They look up at the sound of the door opening and watch Jon stand in the doorway. He opens his mouth, then realizes he doesn’t know what to say and closes it again.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Martin asks gently. The circles under his eyes are almost black.
“No,” Jon admits. “I—I just wanted to—” He breaks off, still not sure what to say.
Wordlessly, Tim holds out a hand. Jon lets the bedroom door shut behind him as he comes forward and takes it. Martin wraps an arm around him from behind, and the two of them pull Jon onto the bed and into a lying-down position. Tim rolls over and snaps off the lamp by his bed, then pulls the covers up over all three of them. Jon manages to reach down and snag the middle to help.
“Better,” Tim murmurs.
It’s not a question, but Jon hums in agreement anyway. Trying for levity, he says, “Shame to waste money on new beds, though.”
“We’ll be able to sleep there eventually,” Martin says. Jon only realizes how much stress was in his voice when it’s drastically lessened. “At some point we’ll probably want the space. But for now, there’s this.”
“For now, there’s this,” Jon agrees. He tilts his head back briefly to rest it against Martin’s shoulder, and Martin scoots in closer.
Tim does, too, the two of them sandwiching Jon securely between them. “Get some sleep,” he says. “It’ll be all right tomorrow.”
Jon yawns and closes his eyes, and it doesn’t really surprise him when he falls asleep straightaway. The nightmares are as present as ever, but in the morning, he can almost fool himself into believing they weren’t so bad.
Almost.
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theyungrose · 3 years
Text
Mistress (Joe Anoa’i X OC)
Chapter 1
Now before you all start calling me homewrecker this and clout-chasing hoe that, you should know that started off innocent... at least at the very beginning. It was never about ruining a happy home or trying to sleep my way to a championship, even though that’s ultimately how all this will be portrayed. 
The least I can do is sleep well at night knowing what I did and didn’t do. And the least you all could do is hear out the real story, not the exaggerated bullshit they spread on Twitter. 
It’s actually a pretty good story. 
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Pictured Above: Me (said mistress) Inez Banks 
Being snowed in at a hotel could either be the worst travelling experience ever, or the perfect call out excuse; it all depends on how you cut it. It was Thursday night, meaning I should be in Syracuse; as should the rest of the roster.
Where were we instead? Snowed in to the Marriott hotel 35 miles away. Or at least I was, everyone’s travelling agent is different. I’m barely a superstar though, so I basically did this to myself. 
Either way, I wasn’t mad at it. At all. I’d already worked out earlier that morning, showered and did my makeup to leave at 4pm just as the snow was starting; and then I got the call from Stephanie. It was like when your school pops up on the news as closed for a snow day. 
Child, when I tell you I put on my sweats and tank top so fast. 
Now, it was 9pm, and it suddenly occurred to me that the hotel bar downstairs just might be open. What, you thought I was going to get blessed by this sudden off day and not get tipsy? 
Walking in, the lights were low and warm like a cafe, and they played soft radio music from a speaker in the corner. I took my seat at an empty booth and waited for a waiter to come. 
“How can I help you tonight miss?”
I was so busy scrolling through Twitter that I didn’t realize the waiter that came by my table, but when I looked up, it wasn’t his eyes that I caught. 
Instead it was the medium brown pair watching me from the bar. They were just like mine, yet it was like I’d never seen eyes like his before. It was like being caught in headlights but not out of fear, just sheer intrigue. 
“Ma’am?”
The slight impatience in my waiter’s tone snapped me back to reality, I hadn’t even realized I was staring. 
“Hi... yeah sorry. Do you have Chateau Rosé?” 
“Would you like a glass or a bottle.” 
I couldn’t help myself. My eyes looked past the waiter again to find the same pair still staring from across the restaurant, as if they had never moved. 
“...the bottle.” 
I grinned softly, now finding myself completely enthralled in this stranger, who actually wasn’t that much of a stranger. Only a stranger to me because, before this moment, I’d never met him in person or seen him in passing.
Remember, I’m barely a superstar. Just a dark match competitor from NXT that occasionally shows face on live events. 
That’s when he stood up. Whiskey glass in hand, he rose from his stool and started making his way over to me. I was too awkward to stare him in his face as he approached so I looked down at my phone until he was in close enough proximity. 
“Can I join you?”
Even his voice could sell porn. 
“Sure there ain’t no one else sitting there.” 
He smirked sliding in the booth seat across from me just as the waiter returned with my bottle.
“Should I bring another cup?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.” 
Yes, we said it at the exact same time. If that’s not the cutest, corniest, cliche shit I’ve ever heard then I don’t want to hear what is. The waiter even chuckled a bit as he left to the back.
“My name’s...”
“Amara. I know.” 
The shock had to be written all over my face as I looked back at him. His smirk grew wider as he toyed with the rim of my glass, eyes still intensely on me.
“Yeah... my real name’s Inez. How did you know my stage name though?”
“I’ve seen you before. A couple times actually. You’ve just never seen me see you.” 
Immediately, I got wet. Have I really had this sex God in mortal man’s clothing on my body all this time and not realized it? Am I blind? 
“I’m Joseph, I prefer Joe way more though. Please don’t call me Joseph.”
It was so cute how he introduced himself as if I-- (A.) didn’t already know who he was, and (B.) wasn’t already borderline obsessed with him. As is every other woman that has seen him.
Including the one reading this story. 
“Okay Joe, you can just call me Inez. You can’t make many nicknames out of that ‘cuz it’s only four letters, its kinda boring.”
“I don’t think so... it’s cute actually. Unique.” 
Were his eyes this intense when he talked to everyone else or was it just me? It felt like I was melting under his gaze, and in the best way possible. 
“Crazy about the storm right? I got in from the gym right as it was starting, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
I nodded, watching the snow continue to fall through the wall-length windows across from us. 
“Me either, but it’s so pretty... and these hotel beds are hella comfortable so I’m not the slightest bit annoyed.”
Joe’s eyes were watching me over the rim of his wine glass as I looked back at him; I really couldn’t look this man in his face when his eyes were on me. It felt like I was smiling so hard I looked stupid. 
“Have you been here long? It looks pretty empty.”
“It was until I came in about an hour ago. I was actually about to leave but then... the prettiest female walked in.” 
Woosh. 
Use context clues to figure out what that sound means. I actually had to shift in my seat just to maintain my composure. If you put me next to a red crayon right now I swear you couldn’t tell the difference. 
“And it was perfect timing too. I was so bored I actually considered driving to another city to see my friend.” 
This time I smirked, now slightly more relaxed as I moved to my second glass of rose. 
“Well your welcome for saving you a very cold and lonely night in your car.”
For the first time since meeting him I heard him laugh, and I was convinced that I would dedicate the rest of my life doing anything to hear that sound again. 
“Much obliged princess.” 
I couldn’t tell if he was saying that to flirt or if he was alluding to my ring name “Princess” Amara, so I just took it both ways. (wink wink.) 
One hour stretched to two, then two reached out to three, and before either of us actually realized it was 12:15 the next morning and we were halfway through another bottle of Chateau. 
“Sorry guys I’ve stretched my boss out long enough, he’s ready to close up for the night. You guys are welcome to take the bottle with you though.” 
We both smiled at the waiter, he was the real MVP of the night. Joe paid for the second bottle and tipped him generously, then with his elbow locked around mine we sauntered our way slowly to the elevators. To anyone else this might’ve looked like a romantic gesture; and while it was really cute, Joe had already been drinking and the wine was starting to beat me already, so I knew it was beating him too. 
“What floor is your room on?” 
“One.... one plus five.”
I held up the numbers on my hands to show him, and he stared at them for a second.
“So six?” 
“No goofy, that equals fifteen!” 
It was a good thing we were on an elevator as loud as we were being.
“That’s not how math works sweet pea.” 
We both had rooms on the top floor, and admittedly, sobriety kicked in a bit when I realized this meant I had to leave him. 
“Do you know how to play cards?”
Midway down the hallway towards my room Joe’s sudden question stopped me in my tracks. I turned around to see him a couple of steps behind me.
“Yeah... yeah I know how to play cards.” 
At that response Joe quickly closed the space between us, so close that I had to tilt my head up so I could see his face. 
“Do you want to?” 
And I was back to melting under his gaze again. This time there was no hesitation. 
“Yes.”
Joe’s lips spread into a grin that covered his whole face, and I felt his hand reach down to gently grab mine. They were rough yet warm as he led me away from my door and in the opposite direction.
Tag List
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boogiewrites · 4 years
Text
Choking On Sapphires 93
Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)
Title & Song: Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts
Summary: Alfie is never far from paranoia. But he and Genevieve both find that it's granted when it seems like the whole of London could be out to get them.
Warnings/Tags: Crime. Canon typical everything. 
Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!
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There were only a handful of men in the abandoned warehouse in London this night. A location well suited, as gloomy and shady as their business practices. The cover of smog and fog from the nearby canal both serving as cover for their 'off the book' transactions. Despite their dastardly reputations, if these few men had somehow all been taken out at one time, the city would’ve plunged into bloody chaos that would lead to more trouble than already fell upon their territories.
They were a motley crew to be sure, all with twitching hands and shifty eyes. Not an ounce of trust to be found between any of them. They’d been called to this neutral ground on the guise there was a threat looming over them all. But since when wasn't there one? This desperate claim had been made by Niko, the newest head of the Greek gang who was less than a year into leading after assassinating his father. He was being met with much criticism. The decision to bring together the gangs and criminal leaders of London tonight would be met with the same disdain.
The men stood in their big coats with deep pockets, their seconds in the shadows of the dimly lit and dusty warehouse. Niko stood self-assured in his shirt with the rolled-up sleeves to show his heavy and dark forearms, hair black and slicked away from a strong masculine face. He was feeling accomplished for the ability to get all these infamous people together, and if he’s been smarter he would have actually done something with the occasion. You had the drug runners, the triads, who expected the threat to be from another country. The Sicilians who were known for their brothels thought perhaps new law enforcement might’ve been a threat to their money-making. The English boys and their known violence with the protection rackets they ran, this being their home and all, were worried about the Americans coming in and trying to disrupt the well-established lines in the sand for territories. There were bookmakers and gambling den owners, none who wanted their flows disrupted. Sabini, perhaps the most intelligent of them all had been over the race tracks for some time now, only sharing the space by negotiation or force with the Peaky boys or the Jews. And he couldn’t help but notice neither of which were at this gathering.
Sabini, looking at his pocket watch with a hard face knows Alfie wouldn’t be one to be late, and seeing as he knew the rumors of he and Nikos falling out, his suspicions were growing by the ticks of the watch hands. His faith this would be worth his while was dwindling just as quickly.
“I suppose you are the ones who are going to show...shame not everyone could hear this.” Niko begins, standing from his perched spot on a large wooden crate. “I know you have heard of a joining of powers to be happening soon. And I believe we should all take this as a threat.”
“What are the bloody Americans doin' now?” Billy Hill, one of the English roughens groans.
“No Americans.” Niko corrects and most of the men in the room go through relief and then a feeling of ‘then what?’. “One of London’s own and the French.” He begins.
Sabini groans audibly.
“I’m serious!” Niko insists with eyes that say he’s telling the truth. “I’m sure you’ve all heard that the Jew Alfie Solomons and that French whore Genevieve Durand are getting married.”
“Fucks sake.” Is the grumble of choice that works its way around the crowd.
“We can’t have her alliances and the Jews pairing! It’ll throw off the balance we’ve worked so hard to achieve!”
“And how is Solomons marrying going to affect anyone but him?” The annoyed lead of the Asian gangs calls out.
“This Durand is no ordinary woman.” Niko compulsorily insists.
“Yeah, we know you’re sweet on her.” Sabini mutters.
“This is about her French connections. Parliament, the gypsies, and the Irish! All of them will be with Solomons and not against him now because of her.”
“Look. She’s the godmother of a Shelby baby. That hardly calls for panic. She’s the niece of a French Jew, who has NO footing here. Those are not alliances. You’re acting like a bloody woman, so dramatic.” Sabini purses his lips.
“We all know what Horne did to her.” Billy interjects. “If you think she’s a threat after a wallop like that you’re mad. Alfies the one ya gotta watch for, and you know those Jews, they get all sentimental about their wives. This could work in our favor if he’s gone soft for the bird.”
“I do not think underselling Solomons is a good move. You saw what he did to Horne.” The Asian lead reminds them.
“That shows how unstable he is!” Niko yells.
“Well he didn’t kill his own father now did he?” One of the bookmakers snarks.
“Everyone agreed to that!” Niko shouts, his anger showing at not getting his way.
“Yeah and I think everyone’s agreeing that we don’t give a fuck about the hard prick you’ve got for Solomons woman and how you want us to the dirty work to take him out of the picture.” Billy’s known brash remarks surprise no one.
“That’s not what this is about. She’ll be trouble! I'm telling you. She’s a sly one. Don’t underestimate her. She could be a loose cannon and telling Solomons what to do, and with the men she’s got behind her she could try to take over the city!”
Everyone but Niko laughs. “Her? Telling ALFIE what to do?” Sabini laughs and wipes away an imaginary tear to sell his point. “You daft boy, listen… she’s a woman yeah? She’s gonna get married and shit out a few little kykes and fall into place. Same as the rest. It’s what they DO.”
“She’s not like other women.” Niko growls.
“We know you’re sore about losin' her to a old man like Solomons, yeah?”
“Maybe she prefers the cut cocks.” Someone remarks and a chuckle passes through the group.
“More like the money.” Another adds and a general nod of agreement moves in a wave across the room.
“LISTEN!” Niko shouts in anger. “I think this marriage is a bad idea. She’s been knocked senseless, attacking people in public, and we know Solomons can be unpredictable. Look what he did to Horne!?”
“A man’s love and loyalty to a woman is fueled by an ancient fire. He was within his right to do that.”
“As poetic as that is,” Sabini rolls his eyes “I’ve known Alfie longer than any of you. And if I say there’s no reason to react then there’s not.” He states clearly with the wheels in his head turning his unspoken thoughts.
“He burned down half the city for that woman. He threw a tantrum like a child and bypassed so many of our unspoken rules in the name revenge.” Niko screeches.
“Like you now, yeah?” Sabini snarks. “You have no business with either of them now. Because YOU threw a fit? Remember?” Niko puffs up in shame. “Why do you care? Why are you wasting our time?” Sabini gestures with his hands and gives Niko a disgusted expression for bringing them there “If ya gonna call us all up, Why not talk about the upcoming elections? Or how they're clearing out the slums and breaking up all our established territories?” The reaction from the group is a unanimous groan of agreement. “Those are real fuckin’ things to worry about. If you’re so concerned about women in power why not go after the fucking labour party too?” Sabine’s experience overrides Niko and his barely thought out objections.
The group laughs and makes Niko feel small and childish. A feeling he hated as the youngest son and one he hadn’t felt since his father died. It did him and no one else any favors to light that pain within him again. For it was the one that lead him to kill the last man who caused it. But now that he had the attention of the entire family. ho knows how he would lash out next time he reached his breaking point?
For as crass and disrespectful as Sabini was, he wasn’t the dumbest criminal in London by a long shot. He’d thought about what Niko said after patronizing him in front of everyone. Even though he didn’t agree, he did have a few points of sense that he hadn’t meant to make. Alfie would be having to change up his repertoire. He had Shelby in Parliament and an uncle in law that was the head of a crime family. Albeit was in France, but clout was clout and bodies were bodies when fighting broke out. Sabini didn’t think Gen would be a problem, as he had heard of her seriousness with her newly found Judaism and expected her to be a good little wife and let her husband rule the roost. But Sabini only knew of the slurs and stereotypes for the Jewish people, not so much their beliefs. Because if he had, he’d know what sort of power, Gen, as the wife would hold in their household. Instead, he saw an opportunity to mend things with Alfie. A peace offering for the joyous occasion so it wouldn’t seem suspicious. As he had said, he knew Alfie. He knew what he was capable of and what a pain in the arse he could be. He’d like to make things easier, not harder so he knows it’s time to make a truce, to show him he wasn’t a threat. Sabini knew it was time to reach out to an old school mate. Because he most certainly didn’t want Alfie Solomons on his bad side.
———
Genevieve’s giggle could be heard from the other side of her bedroom door. The raised hand to knock hesitates.
“Do I have to do it?” The young boy winces, fearing interrupting Solomons during his time with his fiancé.
“Oh fucking-c’mon!” Claire gruffs and shoves him out of the way. “Gen? Alfie? Pardon the interruption but we have some little birds with news out here.
The groan of Alfie can be heard, rolling to his back and throwing his arm dramatically. “WOT THEY WANT?” He shouts as Gen pops out of bed to throw his pants at him and slide on a gown before slinking back into bed. “WHO is it?” He asks quickly after.
“One of yours and one of Genevieve’s.”
“Both?” She hears the women in question ask.
“Come in.” Alfie commands, now sitting up with the covers pulled up under his arms.
“Go on.” Claire shoves the two young boys into the room who feel immediately as if they were trespassing. She stands in the doorway so they cannot leave and watches them creep forward.
“Ya gonna speak or what?” Alfie asks with a jut of his chin.
“Yes sir.” The taller of the two mumbles as he steps forward.
“Come to the foot of the bed and speak up.” Genevieve directs with much more kindness in her tone, directing them with a pointed finger.
“Yes ma’am.” The boy keeps his eyes lowered, his hat being wrung in his hands, a clear ring of sweat around his collar. “Who first?”
“You dear, you’ve been employed the longest,” She explains to Alfie's nervous spy. “Seniority.” She nods.
“Yes ma’am. There was news of a meeting last night.”
After a pause, Alfie makes a rolling motion with his hand. “Anything else to go wif that to make it useful?”
“Downtown they saw some men meeting in one of the old warehouses.”
“Some men?” Genevieve tries to get more out of the boy.
“Gangsters, ma’am.”
“Mmmph. And who?”
“Only person I was told the Greeks.”
“Fuckin ell.” Alfie sighs. “That all ya got?”
“Yes sir.”
“I have more.” The smaller of the two adds sheepishly.
“Then out wif it.” Alfie demands loudly.
“The Greek was there first, then some of the English Hill lads and the bookmaker Comer. Triads, Sabini, and the other Italians.”
“Now that’s the kinda report I need yeah?” Alfie says in a fatherly tone to his informer.
“Is that all?” Genevieve pries a final time.
“No one was inside to hear what was said but no shots or shoutin' and it was over very quickly. No one we knew was there.”
Alfie hums with narrowed eyes in thought. “What of the fascists?”
“No political men, only the kind what run the streets like you, sir.”
“Good lad.” He nods in approval.
“Claire pay them their due.” Genevieve points her way. “Leave with her boys, thank you.”
“Give the missus boy more,” Alfie calls out and the young one's eyes blink with surprise. “We reward detail. Leave nothing to interpretation when ya can lads.”
“Yes sir.” In unison comes from the shabby pair.
After the door is shut behind them the minds of the two business owners are piecing together what they had.
“Of course I wasn’t invited to this but I’m assuming you weren’t as well?”
“No,” Alfie says with a slow shake of his head. “No Jews at all actually.”
“But no fascists. Curious.”
“Not about us then.”
“Not as a whole, no. But Niko…”
“Yeah that... fuckers up to somefin.”
“I’ll keep an ear out, poke around at my retailers today.”
“Good, good. I know I can lean heavily on paranoia…”
“It’s kept you alive this long.” Genevieve smirks. “Listen to your gut, always.”
“But no one you run wif was there. None of ours. Leads one to believe this might be personal, yeah?”
“I do agree. We know the man isn’t happy about us. Now we're being left out and those with known loyalty to us are as well. I don’t believe that to be paranoia so much as putting together a bigger picture. Perhaps you could ask-“
“Sabini, yeah.” He finishes her thought.
“Mmm Hmm. He’s been behaving as of late. Due for another check-in I’d say.”
“And I’d say you’re right.”
———————-
Sabini happened to have reached out to Solomons for a meeting before Alfie had the chance to initiate. Alfie knew this meant one of two things, that Sabini needed him, or he needed Sabini. Or perhaps a third option of both? Alfie was prepared for all outcomes as he prided himself in.
For anyone else the smugness on Derby’s face, set to its usual twitch of him acting as if he’d smelled shit, would’ve been an indicator of which option was on the table for discussion. But this observation was useless against someone like Sabini. He didn’t give himself away until you dug in close and arrogance was his base nature.
He waltzed in like some greyscale silent film star with shiny shoes and a coat draped over his shoulders. His appearance next to Alfie gives nothing away that they were both raised in the same streets as the learned posh facade Sabini had long practiced to appear authentic. Alfie even has the passing thought of observing Sabini’s practiced measures of sitting down to be a tad too feminine at this point but that was neither here nor there, he supposes.
Alfie’s nose twitches both from his business mate’s luxury cologne and his impatience for the small talk. He was only interested in faux comradery if he could benefit from it. Sabini was lamenting on the state of the cabinet, the changes, and the way the kids no longer remembered the war and it was leading in directions he didn’t particularly care for. Perhaps it was an attempt to be personable, but Alfie had no time for such things when it came to someone who he’d known since before his balls dropped.
Alfie perks up his demeanor, hands flat and wide on his old wooden desk, dust unsettling as he hit heavily against the top. “Now DERBY… “He clears his throat, lips pooching out ever so slightly to appear in thought, but it was clearly making a mockery of the behavior of Sabini. “We could, y’know, sit and listen to you talk out ya arse ‘bout shit no one gives a FUCK about.” he blinks rapidly and nods his head with his low brow directed at his associate. “Or we could just skip it, the gossipin’ like the birds ‘n that, and get down to business. Like men.” his tongue punctuates against his teeth to show through his deepened voice that he meant what he said. In case Derby had forgotten.
“Now for what it’s worth, your precision is something I always did like about you Alfie.”
“Compliments ain’t like you now, Derby, old friend. Should I pull me cock out for those sweet words or do you want to get to your fucking point?”
With a slight wince of his lips, Sabini takes a deep breath to crispen his delivery. “I am here as a show of good faith, right? I have some information that you need and I want to discuss how this might affect us in the future.”
“Us?” Alfie laughs and sits back in his chair with a smug grin. “Presumptuous, innit?”
“Yes. Us, Alfie.” Sabini states with the annoyance already showing through in his voice.
“Go on then.” a demanding hand motions forth from the leather chair.
“The Greeks are trying to upset the truces.”
“Ahhh.” Alfie groans. “Always the fuckin’ Greeks, yeah? If not then it’s the Italians.” he jokes.
Sabini chose to ignore the jab. “I have the information you want. But I need something from you in return.”
“How do you know I need it? How do you know, yeah? That I don’t already know?” Alfie's lip curled up almost in an almost childish taunt.
“Because you aren’t reaching out to anyone. You’d be doing damage control if you knew. Gettin’ all the little ducks in a row to keep everyone in line.”
“You are being rather bold, y’know, there mate... Don’t much care for it to be honest. Arrogance, innit? Which means, you tellin' me how you think I fuckin’ run things, which you can fuck RIGHT OFF with, mate, respectively, I mean that Derby old mate… THAT indiscretion leads me to believe, yeah? That you do genuinely think that the information you have is valuable.” he taps the desk in front of him to demand the information with not only his words. “So what is it that you think is so important that you’d come down here to mingle among us… dirty dust bin lids, I believe is what you call us.
“I need something from you in return.”
Alfie throws his hands up half way, “Let me ask you this Derby, in all seriousness now lad, Are you thick? Are you lame? NO! No, listen ‘cause that statement was something an imbecile would say to a man like me.”
Sabini sighs and rolls his eyes, “Me ‘n you go way back Alfie. We’ve been enemies, and we’ve been friends. And isn’t it much better when we’re friends?”
“Oh yeah, mate.”
“I need us to be on the same side here. We grew up together. Immigrant lads and the like. We know war, we know the streets, we have an advantage here as a pair and I want to propose we work together instead of apart for the foreseeable future.”
“Mmm.” is Alfie’s only response. Best you stay silent and let the other man do the talking.
“Can you agree to that? We can do it formally, with your contracts and that. I know how your lot loves to have documentation of everything.”
“Can ya fuckin’ blame us? What with whats’ goin’ on out there?”
“That’s why we need to work together.”
“How’s about you tell me what this information is and I will tell you if it’s worth me workin’ with a man like you? You Italians aren’t known for your inclusivity ya daft fascists.”
“Alfie.” Sabini groans. “You know I'm not that stupid and I know you aren’t either. Let’s move past this yeah? I’m English, I don’t live in bloody Italy, my parents don’t live there, I work with what’s in front of me don’t I? Not with my head in some other fuckin’ country. Give me a bit of credit here, I'm not some amateur.”
“A truce?” Alfie quickly switches the conversation direction in a show of understanding.
“Yes.” An exasperated Sabini spits out.
“What terms?” Alfie asks with a rather dainty placement of his gold spectacles and a lick of his pen.
“We share the tracks. I can give you more races to share if you agree to not come for me or my men. We won’t cross on each other territories of businesses. No fighting over pubs and theatres. We’d have each other's backs, like the good old days.”
“Good old days.” Alfie snorts as keeps writing. “I get one race a month of my own. Share the rest.”
“Fine.”
“NO crossing territories, no murderin’, no fightin’.” Alfie repeats, with a mumble as it’s the least of his worries.
“Agreed.”
“And the giving of men for circumstances of attack and revenge on other groups if the situation arises.”
“Acceptable.”
“Then sign here,” Alfie says with a satisfied expression. “You must be in a right spot, mate. Givin’ up this.”
“It’s an investment.”
“Mmm.” Alfie hums and shakes the paper to dry the ink. “Now. This information…”
“There was a meeting-”
“Remember when I said I knew things…?”
“Let me bloody talk now. We get it you KNOW things, Alfie.” he interjects with an annoyed wave of his hand. “What you might not know is that Niko tried to gather the lot of us from all of London and turn us on you.”
“Mmm.” another sound of acknowledgment that meant nothing.
“He doesn’t trust you or your bride to be. Congratulations by the way.”
“Thank you.” he nods gracefully.
“We all know he’s after her, yeah? But he wants us to believe she’ll turn you against everyone and try to take us all down one by one. Which after your reaction to Horne, almost all of us aren’t sure what the fuck to think about you.”
“Couldn’t possibly have been intentional.”
“I wanted a truce because I don’t want you coming at me how you did Horne. A new war between us will do nothing but lead to problems I don't fucking have time for anymore. Not with how the worlds changing and us getting older.”
“Yeah, I feel it in my legs mostly...” Alfie groans.
“Niko is going to come for you. I believe you need to set up a meeting of your own and address him and, well bloody almost everyone else. It might help, might not. But at least then when faced with you and not behind your back you might see what sort of man Niko has turned into after taking over.”
“Never was much of one to begin with.” Alfie rolls his eyes.
“No, which makes him behave like a child and thus not act according to the truces that are set in place.”
“Yeah yeah.” Alfie nods. “There needs to be somethin’ said. Can’t have the little wanker goin’ round runnin’ his fuckin’ mouth bout me. OR my wife. “
“All this over a fucking woman.” Sabini groans.
Alfie points a ringed and aggressive finger his way. “You can’t be talking about her either, yeah? That’ll break this little agreement faster than I could put a bullet in your fuckin’ skull, right?”
“I'm not. Nothing personal just… he’s acting like a little boy. I know marriage is important to you Jews.”
“Always the tasteful one, Derby.”
“You know what I fuckin’ mean.”
“Unfortunately I do speak prick.”
“Alfie, I’m not after you or your wife. In any capacity. How I talk is just how I talk, yeah? I don't mean nothin’ by it, it’s just how I am. How we grew up. And I know you. We know each other right? And I would rather work with the devil I know than the devil I don’t. And that’d be you. Especially after what you did to Horne.”
“Mmph.” Alfie nods. “Spose that checks out.”
“I was impressed, I’ll admit. We haven’t seen a retaliation wipe out a whole enterprise like that in decades.”
“And I’d dig him up, skull fuck him and set him on fire if I could. Salt the fuckin’ earth wherever his feet touched.” Alfie's eyes are familiar darkness to Sabini. He’d expected as much from him after seeing the ash fall from the city skyline line it was snow from the destruction Alfie orchestrated. “I don’t blame you for not wantin’ me on your bad side. I know they say we’re both crazy now.”
“But see...I know neither of you are.”
“And that’s why we’ve not killed you yet, mate. Every now and then, you use your brain. ”
@jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbirdd @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​
 @musingsby-night​ @shine-dont-shadow​ @inkinterrupted​ @vale0413​ @emerald-bijou​ @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber​ @ultrablackwidower​ @tinastarkandco​ @arrowswithwifi​ @marvelgirl7​ @they-are-not-just-stories​   @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @alitheamateur​ @gold-trashbag @divadinag​ @imhelenagardner
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bangtancentricsblog · 3 years
Text
pjm/qw: 1
↳ a spur of the moment fic that came from a half thought i had written down a long time :) also this is my first sorta proper jimin fic??? yeah im super biased lmao
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❒ pairing: park jimin x reader, slight jungkook x reader
❒ genre: small fluff, mostly angst? tbh i have no clue, fantasy,
❒ alternative universe: King Arthur and Camelot, Greek Gods
❒ rating: NC 17
❒ word count: 1.4k +
warnings/disclosures: this is heavily unedited but oh well, dialogue heavy sorry, prince jimin, prince jungkook, excalibur reader, talks of gods and war, i had to throw a bible reference in there because yes i love throwing the world's most famous fanfic out there all the time, is that me clout chasing mayhaps?? Mc is in a prison, there isn't anything too bad i promise. But feel free to come yell at me if there was
main ml • AO3
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“Many greetings to prince Jimin heir to the throne of light of Camelot. What brings you to my humble abode?”
“Why are you locked in here?”
“That I cannot answer but I can answer other questions, perhaps the ones that sit heavily on your heart?” You simper, making no move to step closer to him in the light.
“How long have you been here? It seems as if we are about the same age.”
“You bore me prince, how fares the queen mother? Is she still as cold to you as was rumored?” The giggle you let out is bordering on manic as it slips past your lips.
“What do you know?”
“I know a fair amount more than you do, young prince.”
“My mother comes from the line of Excalibur. She is a busy woman, now speak clearly I detest these riddles.”
“Riddles you say? I have one for you, what do you call a king without a throne?”
“I don’t know.” He says watching as you squirm in what little light the cell provides. Your laugh is chilling, raising goosebumps across his exposed skin.
“A false king.” You say finally stepping into the light, his heart skips a beat. He’s never seen a woman more beautiful, you’re dressed in silk the gown although thin hangs off your frame beautifully, accentuating your curves as his gaze greedily drinks them up. Truly he wonders why a beauty such as yourself has been locked up, hidden away from the eyes of the court, almost as if you were a secret.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that you, oh noble prince of Light, only heir to Camelot descendant of Arthur are a false prince." You laugh again, this one filled with actual mirth as if you'd been waiting for this, waiting to spill these lies.
"Your father has finally broken the vicious cycle created by the previous kings, he's lain with someone other than an excalibur woman and created a false heir. Here you stand, next in line but for this oh so glorious throne but hold not a single drop of the noble line of Arthur. Tell me false heir why would they lock up a four year old, a daughter of the Excalibur line when their powers don't usually manifest until the age of five?"
"So you are a woman of the Excalibur line, that would make you my betrothed." He says more to himself than to you, his brow furrows as you reveal this information. This has to be a lie, how can he find truth in the words of a madwoman? You’ve yet to say anything else, gaze trained on his figure as he ponders the information you’ve just provided him, though what is the truth?
“Ask me, false prince.” You almost hiss as your lips wrap around the words.
“These are lies.” He says instead, lips set in a firm line.
“That isn’t a question, ask me.” This time it’s more of a whine as if you can’t stand not being able to answer the questions swirling through his brain.
“ASK ME!” You repeat, a manic grin settling across your cracked lips.
“What makes you think there’s more to ask, I’ve grown tired of this game.”
“You know there’s more, why has the queen mother always been away when the king was at war? Where was she if not on the battlefield using her strength to garner another victory for Camelot? Tell me, false prince, where was your mother when you were here alone in the palace?” Jimin says nothing, gaze drinking you in, the almost pleased smile that lightens your features is haunting. Something twists in his stomach the longer he stays in the secluded cell far away from the knights barracks, where he should’ve been practicing his swordsmanship. You’re beautiful he thinks again, a little malnourished but still beautiful so he understands why the women of your family were sought after.
If he looks closely he can see some of the similarities you share with his mother, though he knows that your direct relationship to her isn't all that strong considering the little blood you share. It’s your eyes, the way they glow a warm gold, almost as if the very light that camelot shone in their depths. He’s growing weary of the circles you spoke in, and he’s once again questioning what is truth and what is just made up. Though if Jimin is being truthful he doesn’t know of a reason for you to lie after all you’ve been locked away for what is probably your whole life. So instead he takes a steadying breath, refocusing his gaze on your form. You look slightly less pleased now, a frown downturning your lips as you move closer to the bars that cage you.
“My powers came to me at an early age, you are one year my senior and he, the true heir to the throne of light, descendant of the noble line of Arthur is one year my junior. You, false prince, were born to be his greatest foe. An age old testament put in place by the heavens to rid themselves of false heirs such as yourself. Your father has muddied the purity of the line of Arthur, the heavens won’t have that. Cain was the first, the only impurity to come from the line of Arthur, but now here you stand, and just like Cain will be struck down by your own brother.” There are tears in your eyes now, they sparkle as if embedded with stars for jewels seem too mundane for eyes as beautiful as yours. The anguish he sees in your features makes his heart ache but for who? Surely not for him, perhaps then for the true prince you speak of, after all it was impossible for you to feel so strongly for someone you just met, especially not a false prince.
“You are no daughter of Excalibur, you spun this poisonous web of lies so easily, do you think me a fool? No you aren’t as noble as Excalibur, you’re more so liken to that of a witch.” he spits and although he feels his heart ache at the way you flinch back at his words, he can’t help but notice that it’s the first time you’ve reacted to his words.
“Poor false prince, you would brand me a witch, have me dragged and quartered solely because you cannot understand your role. I pity you Jimin, you’ve known no true happiness, and you will die not knowing happiness. Though you are wrong, witches and my clan share history but in the end we are not one in the same. For you see the line of Excalibur hails from the god Hephaestus, the one true ancestor of my family.” Your smile is nothing like the others you’ve shown him, this one is cold, almost detached almost as if all fight has left you.
“Where do I find him?” he finally asks, needing to find the truth for himself. He refuses to believe a single word you’ve uttered until he can find answers for himself.
“You won’t have to, he’ll find you eventually, goodby false prince.” you mumble slinking back into the shadows of the cell, he’s stepping closer before he can think but falters in his step when he hears his guard and friend Taehyung call for him. He’ll just have to come back and get you to tell him his brother's location, even if it takes an eternity.
*
The sun is warm on your skin as you sit in a field of greenery, you barely remember your homeland but you remember this field. All of the women meant for the throne knew this field, it was sacred land one only the true descendants of Arthur and Excalibur knew of. A soft breeze brushes against your bare shoulders almost as if in a gentle caress. You relish in it, even more in the welcomed weight of the boy who rests his head in your lap. His umber strands reflect the light in a way that tricks the eye, almost as if shedding light on a hidden crown. One of your hands rests on his chest feeling the rhythmic thumping of his heart, while the other smooths over the stands of his hair.
“I wish we could be together longer.” he breaths nuzzling into your stomach.
“As do I but now is not the time, not yet at least. Remain strong my king, for the trials that await you will be long and difficult.” His hand finds yours on his chest, threading your fingers together.
“Call me by my name, I like the way it sounds when you say it.” You feel your skin heat at his straightforwardness, nevertheless you comply.
“Jungkook.” you mutter abashedly, but the smile he gifts you in return melts away your prior embarrassment.
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tagging @boymeetsweevil because that’s my wife you guys 😍
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fandom-sheep · 3 years
Text
MCC 24 JUL 21
Green Guardians and Pink Parrots Part 1/2
Alright I’m finally back! I’m only half watching while I clean my room but it’s fine.
I’m watching Fundy’s POV on my main screen and Ranboo’s on my phone where I’m typing this.
Ranboo pre game stream let’s gooo.
I’m so very entertained by the background Tubbo noises.
He’s so happy. I don’t know if I have it in my to watch Fundy’s POV even though I’m cheering for the Green Guardians.
Sands of time. Let’s go!
We are going to hear these boys in each other’s backgrounds.
This has “mom can we play Minecraft at our sleepover” vibe.
Phil’s streaming. Where is the fox boy…
Boys trying to out noise each other.
Please tell over to tubbo about how loud he is being. It would be funny.
It’s so much fun watching this boy achieve his goals. I love watching people achieve their goals.
Actual MCC server!!!
Good time for screeny. Nobody is chilling.
BURGER!
I saw him! I saw that fox run past!
“Ahh” - Ranboo
“Aaaa” -Tubbo
“Ahhhh” -Ranboo
“Aaaa” -Tubbo
High school ish age boy in competitive scenario. This will be so much fun.
Microphone magic time!
Hey I hear the boys!
And it works well.
It does echo???? How???
“It was a joint effort. I came up with some bad ideas you came up with the idea that works.” -Tubbo
Also known as every other group chat I’ve ever been in.
Lmanburg flag at rally?
What?
No. Let’s do free clout.
Ranboo being a problem.
Why is everyone in that VC?
What problems are these children causing.
Fundy is live! Where is my iPad time to dual wield streams.
Spatula???
Dual spatulas.
It’s time to start!!!
Where is the fox?
You know. I might reverse it. I might have to watch Pink Parrots mainly and just ignore green guardians.
I’m going to put Wilbur on my iPad so I can see the chaos man. Now to decide which POV I’m listening to. Probably Ranboo. Wilbur on mine is slightly behind.
They asked if Wilbur was going change his skin? That never happens. He had to wear the sweater of shame at Christmas time.
I have them both almost perfectly sinced but it’s at the point it almost sounds echoed.
No it’s just tubbo who sounds echoed.
Nope can’t get it to sync. Just listening on my speaker.
No surround sound here. Unless I get really board.
Manifesting the win?
Manifolding the win.
Bavid.
Time to annoy the other teams.
From here on I’m going to try to be productive while I watch. Wait no. The music isn’t in sync with the one I’ll mostly be watching.
Oh I forgot TapL was there. Nope it’s not syncing. Just going to have Ranboos on my phone be secondary.
Wilbur POV let’s go.
We trash talking. Look at them go.
Ahh. English area codes. What the enigma.
Let’s win pink parrots!!! How do I always end up cheering for this team…
I need to make pink parrot art.
Oh no. Just Wilbur.
Oh no. It’s all Tubbo.
Wilbur reminds me of a good camp counselor motivating his team. Not like one of my coworkers.
My brother isn’t home today so we can’t have a watch party like we wanted.
My mom is confused with my and my brother’s investment in MCC but we told her it was the national championships of Minecraft.
Oh poor Fundy tagging on the other side.
I need to remember to collect channel points.
I’m sorry why is my internet acting stupid. Work you!
Pink and purple. The tween girls second most idea color pallet.
They are over motivating the Soot.
Thought Wilbur was going to explode from peer pressure there.
Yooo. I figured out how to watch Fundy! I can split screen my ipad between the app and the website. Tiny Fundy screen and big Wilbur screen and tiny Ranboo screen on my phone.
They can’t warn fast enough.
Time to watch and ad and support Wilbur because it got too far behind for my liking while I fought with the tiny Fundy screen.
I need to put away the books I’m pressing flowers in. But I don’t want to mess up the flowers.
Wonder how soon I’ll have to start a new post because I ran out of bullet points.
Nah I’m not keeping Fundy’s POV open. I want full screen Pink Parrots.
Music brain made the lyric connection.
I could drink 3 bottles of water every round.
The boys with the superior bladders.
What happened with Wilbur? What I didn’t see anything happen with the stream.
Nox crew role play??? What?
Wait. Did red team just fall into the void?
What?
I found a skirt and I’m wondering why I don’t wear it more often.
It goes down to my knees I could even wear this to church.
Offhand wool!
Time to battle in the box!
Exciting death boots.
Go!!! Do wool! Get em!
Oh wow. They both died. At the same time.
They can hear the Tommy. That’s how well these dudes know one another.
Bragging on each other.
Everyone surprised that Wilbur is entering his old man years.
Woohoo!
Random history moments with Tubbo.
Woohoo (again)!
Ranboos just going to jinx it.
Oh no I need my charger!
Got my charger! Rejoined at “Minecraft butts make big… videos” and am quite confused.
Skilled boys!!
Poof goes the Bur.
They beat Dream???
Casually refolding every bandana I own while watching battle box.
I found a peppermint tea bag.
Come on get mid! Noooo.
Pink parrots doing pretty good from what I see in MCC live.
I thought Ranboo had an actual burger on his face cam. I was so confused for a moment.
Yelling across the room casually.
Wilbur is back. You can hear him.
Wilbur is like a kid trying to get a duck out of the pond.
Sky battle?
Shake? Shake shake shake?
Oh no. Now all the chat is crying over Ghostbur. Myself included.
Pink parrots on top so far! Never mind that didn’t last long.
Go Wilbur! Go Tubbo! Go Ranboo! Go TapL!
Wilbur go poof.
3rd atm.
Oh we’ve gone down.
No he was not good. But he paved the way for TapL.
We’re in 2nd?? Are the other teams dead or something?
If we’re going down and yelling timber.
4th. Not bad.
Woohoo!
Go green guardians!!
So proud of them.
Pants and Boots!
Still in 6th for sky battle.
Bless his heart TapL is so worried.
Red Rabbits and Green guardians are close.
My streams are out of sync. So confused.
We’re in lead!!
WE WON!!!
My iPad is struggling with Will’s stream but it’s going!
Come on Parrots!
Alright got it up again. Got it up again.
If I were a streamer I wouldn’t be good at MCC. I can’t competitive properly. I just like making jokes and being goofy.
Not a good lead but oh well never mind we don’t have the lead.
Red Rabbits YUM.
“Do not engage” as they set off tnt.
Get those stupid rabbits! Or whoever is attacking. I’ve never been good at any sports.
First again!
Hold on guys!
They won!!! With Wilbur hovering on the edge of the void!!!
PINK PARROTS FIRST PLACE (for now but I’m still excited)
Talented team!! Look at them go!
Get your screen shot little Y/N fan boy.
Not surprised we’re more popular than the olympics.
Had to go brag to my parents that there are more people watching MCC than the olympics. They were also not surprised.
Sands of Time. The wildcard game.
Sand sand sand sand.
We have a key for a vault already?
Putting away shoes. Nothing to make you be productive like watching Minecraft peeps play a competitive game.
“Everywhere is a way into somewhere”
Come on boys.
Time to switch to Ranboos POV. See if I can spot that N with my grown up can spot things vision.
Nope don’t see this mysterious letter.
TapL if you got nothing to do bother Ranboo to help him find that N.
Calm Tubbo. Tubbo chill.
Really. The map is broken and they are taking forever helping.
Key!!! Fight Fight Fight.
Ranboo apologizing.
If his team loses this kid will blame himself.
Go Tubbo and Ranboo.
Vault open!
Out of sand = prepare to book it.
1:30 (90 sec) let’s go.
Less than a minute. Evacuate!
Oh no Ranboo is lost. Hurry kiddo!
They made it?
They made it.
Off goes the Wilbur. Now to wait.
Come on pink parrots.
Is it bad I can’t see sands of time coins in MCC live or am I just crazy?
5th. Better than I expected.
THEY ARE STILL FIRST???
Barely. But they are.
We get to vote now?!?
Quick to the voting!
I had to fight Twitter to vote.
The app didn’t want to work.
What’s the acronym one?
I’m sorry did I just hear that Wilbur taught Tubbo how to spell fuck?
Ranboo has the iron bladder.
I drank so much water but I just kinda do that.
Listen to Wilbur getting soft and encouraging Ranboo in his first game.
And Wilbur wanting him back. And planning to manipulate Scott.
Doesn’t surprise me that Wilbur would manipulate Scott. I know he probably doesn’t but still.
Look at all us audience beings.
Hooray David. I don’t know who you are but sup.
I’m sitting on a yoga ball to type and I about fell off. That wouldn’t have been fun.
All of Wills chat blessing him.
David just did the vocal equivalent of 👍🏻
Ooo I found a dollar.
And of course Tubbo likes the olympics. Trampoline boy should love them.
Nooo. Not tubbo!
Whoopsy. There go the parrots.
Why does my Wilbur stream keep goofing. See this is why I don’t actually liveblog I am so behind it’d be delayed anyway.
Instead of replacing with Phil replace with Kristen.
Keep it up Pink Parrots keep it up. *clap clap*
Where is my old cheerleading book?
Oh this is so behind. I saw ranboo fall on his POV then waited a few moments to see him on Wills.
Let’s reset it again for now. Look like it’s close. And I got an ad this time.
If it gets super behind again I’m going to just switch to Ranboo on my iPad and see if that works.
Wills is slightly ahead now. That’s how I like it.
Wilbur is such a motivating human. I swear I keep thinking that I’m hearing my coworkers encouraging campers at a kickball game or something.
Oh we’re dropping. But we’re still going.
How the actual hay are we still here.
Keep it up TapL!!
2nd!
300 and a bit to get back to first.
Look at Ranboo and Wilbur. So happy.
Ok singy boi with the ability to do one sound for a long time.
I want TapL on DSMP. It would be funny I like this guy. What does this guy stream? I want to start watching him.
Ace Race? I love ace race.
Ooo buildmart. Used to be my favorite but now no one hates it anymore.
I like least liked games. Least liked games act as great equalizers. No one is happy and it’s funny.
“You have such a way with words” -TapL (?)
“Thanks I’m a song writer” -Wilbur
Why are we doing dramatic monologues?
Sounds neat. I like this deep story.
Who is dying? What? I zoned out for a minute.
Cant wait to see that audio appear on tiktok.
You go Wilbur. I believe in you.
You go Ranboo become a lover or hater of Ace Race.
“I keep on stabbing people in the butt with my fork” -Ranboo
Again can’t wait to see that audio appear on tiktok.
I love Wilburs angry “which glitch” he’s experienced all of them.
No don’t stop Wilburs channel! I’ll watch an ad but let me watch ace race.
Ranboo has learned to dislike ace race.
Feels like a achievement. You have made Ranboo hate ace race.
Tubbo did it! Whoop!
Good job Will!
Good Job team!
Second team to finish!!!
Wait it says they are in 3rd on MCC live?
Phil Head!
Hey 1st. Good job Parrots!
The perspective I watch doesn’t matter. All I see is shifting at Wilbur either way.
Ranboo booked it.
Techno. Oh how we miss him. He was there last MCC but still.
Wait why are they in the soggy? I missed it?
Dunk tank?
End on build mart! Everyone sounded so sad! I’m so happy! I picked the right team!
Oh acronym is terra swoop force!!! Go Philza.
I’m practical shot who will win.
Pink Parrots doing actually pretty good according to MCC live.
Good job guys!
Resetting Wilburs stream while nothing is happening so I don’t miss anything later.
OH WAIT STUFF IS STILL HAPPENING I SEE IT ON RANBOOS!
Oh final text block. I’m going to have to make 2 posts.
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