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NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 14

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: KESLA

Thorin … The Hellcat of Kumehn Valley. I still can’t believe my luck, this whole detour has just been one continuous wild ride.

It’s true, my da brought me up on stories of the fortunes of the men and women who graduated from his training and then made good using it on the battlefield, and sometimes off it too. Other stories about the men he served with in his own time too, but … no, ultimately it was the younger warriors who came before me that really fascinated me, the ones who benefitted from the teachings of Edhril Shoon after he retired, who became as great a legacy as the name he earned for himself using Hefdred. Gods know there are some genuinely illustrious names among ‘em.

None who held more of an allure for me than the Hellcat, though. Here was a woman to truly aspire to be like when I was growing up. Fierce, deadly, courageous and dutiful, loyal to her friends and the flag she fought to defend, the very epitome of a Knight of Rundao. Sure, it helped that this particular knight was a woman, she was someone I could admire despite the fact that I could never have that myself. Not in the way she did, at least. I was common born, and the laws of Rundao said that no common blood woman could serve in the military at all. That was only the province of highborn ladies who could be knighted as well as their brothers. The closest I could ever dream to get was to maybe serve in the militias when I was old enough, which meant that the only time I would ever see real combat was if Tabaphic itself were to be invaded. Cruel as irony eventually proved to be in that regard …

The only other avenue open to me in that regard was, also ironically, much like the path I eventually did choose – to become a mercenary, a sellsword hiring my services out as a warrior for pay in the makeshift companies that became affectionately known as the Irregulars. Sometimes they’d even see real battle bolstering the real Rundao army, but they were mostly reserved for scouting, skirmishes or stealth missions, only deploying on an actual battlefield as reinforcements if things got truly desperate. It broke my heart every time my father told me that I would never be allowed to actually serve as a man-at-arms the way he did, but never more than when it finally sank in for real. By the time I was twelve and I was routinely beating the all other boys in my class they all agreed with every officer who would stop by to observe, that the Rundao Regulars would miss out on a hell of an asset because of stupid tradition, and da felt the same.

I never gave up on the dream, though, that one day I might actually cross swords with an enemy of my country in some bloody campaign and find myself fighting alongside the Hellcat herself. That she might actually see me in the fight, and admire my form. And, in later years, I began to imagine maybe she might start thinking other things as well, that might lead to something else in the night after the battle was done …

Well I was fourteen when I started fantasising about that, I’d been well aware for a few years already that I had no sexual interest at all in any of the boys I trained with, no matter how pretty or cool or capable I might have considered them. Never mind that I had no idea what Thura Vezrim actually looked like, mostly I just thought up my personal ideal based on what I found attractive in a girl at the time and just projected that onto her. That would always get my fingers working between my legs in the night, and I’d sleep real soundly after I came.

Thura Vezrim … yeah, she really was the ideal, and not just in that way for me, either. She was barely seventeen when she graduated, and within six months she was at the Northern Front and riding in hard cavalry charges against the Terrors’ lines. Before she was twenty she was leading her own special squad of tough elite knights, with a whole hand-picked pack of Irregulars backing them up, and over the next five years earned herself quite the reputation. The Tektehrans came to fear her name alone, because she had as shrewd a tactical mind as she had lethal skill with a blade.

Then came Kumehn Valley. The Northern Campaign had been raging hot for years, the Terrors constantly trying to find any crack in our lines to try and push in for a viable invasion, and there they came bloody close to finally making it. If their distracting feint ten miles to the east had been any more effective at drawing the majority of Rundao’s forces into open battle they might actually have made it through the deep, narrow hidden gorge in the Reaches and outflanked our main force. The lion’s share of the Rundao army would’ve been crushed between two advancing waves and only the reserves and militias would’ve been left between the Terrors’ vanguard and the Lowlands. It would’ve been a fucking bloodbath.

Except for Thura Vezrim and her Unbroken, as her bloody little band had become known. For three days they held the pass, fifty against ten thousand, with only the narrow, twisting uneven ground they had at their advantage keeping the Terrors from just overwhelming ‘em. That being said, if it had been any other fifty soldiers I doubt they’d have pulled it off – Thura and her Unbroken fought like demons, and for every one of ‘em that fell they left a hundred of the enemy bloody on the ground. By the time the scout they’d sent to alert the reserves of the attempted infiltration made it back with substantial reinforcements the Unbroken were almost done, and Thura was holding the pass nearly on her own. It was almost too late.

They essentially retired her after that. They had to. She was in a bad way, nothing that she couldn’t recover from and come back just as strong, but command decided that she had more than earned her rest from the battlefield after that, and in the end I guess it finally hit home for her that it was probably for the best. Those three days took far more toll on her than just the physical wear and damage. She’d lost almost all her heard-earned friends in that battle, only six others made it out with her while their reinforcements were busy pushing the Terrors back, and for six months after she woke up every night screaming from dark, bloody nightmares. So they shipped her back to Tabaphic and once she was done healing they celebrated her as a true hero of Rundao for a whole month, then sent her home to Untermer for some well-earned rest. While her legend grew all across Rundao and beyond.

The Hellcat of Kumehn Valley, who held back ten thousand Terrors for three days with just fifty fighters behind her. You couldn’t make this shit up …

She’d already been married before that final deployment, but her husband was wounded less than six months before Kumehn Valley, and losing his right arm taking the breach at Livibar had really put paid to his own military career. So when she came home he spent the first three weeks just putting her back together the rest of the way inside her head, and then they started making babies. After that when she deployed again it was always well behind the lines, promoted to staff headquarters and never again allowed to raise her sword in battle, but by then it suited her well enough, even if she did find herself missing it every day. So when she finally mustered out she went without complaint, and more than one sigh of relief. She was a mother now, she’d left battle behind.

Terth Relusk, a middling, somewhat awkward scion of House Gadran who had finally found his purpose and confidence with a sword in his hand had become a knight of some small repute himself when they met. He knew she was well out of his league, but he pursued her all the same, but in truth he really didn’t have to work as hard as he did to win her hand, Thura fell in love the moment she met him. But while she was fierce and bold in battle, she was almost cripplingly shy when it came to love, so it took her a long time to actually make it clear to Terth that she was already his, and while he was also a keen tactician he was almost painfully dim in social matters. So their courtship was clumsy, embarrassing and largely unnecessary, but at least once he got it into his thick head as well that he actually had her heart they became largely inseparable, at least outside of deployment.

They spent most of their collective time on leave in their rooms, making up for lost time, so once they were both home for good it didn’t take long for their family to start growing. Then, a month before his second daughter was born, Terth fell ill with the Black Waste, a nasty little slow-developing souvenir from the Campaign, and they had to confine him to the loft rooms of the manor, quarantined from everyone he loved. Mara never even got a chance to meet her father before he died, struggling for almost two years as he wasted way, with his skin taking on the colour and consistency of ancient rotten leather while his body withered to a grimy, rasping husk that could barely move in its bed. They had to completely gut the rooms after he passed, and had to burn his body where it lay, so he never even got a real funeral. If it hadn’t been for the children, Thura almost certainly would’ve passed on from a broken heart within weeks from the grief, and a part of her did die that day.

It was the children that saved her. Keeping them from falling into a funk along with her was what kept her from disintegrating into her own grief, so she just carried on training Deriel, and then Pela too once she started to show her own aptitude through play. She only started Thadeon’s lessons in the last year, but he’s proving as precocious as his siblings, so she fully expects Mara to follow in the great family tradition before long herself.

“The only reason I didn’t forbid any of it the day their father died is because I doubt any of my own children will ever see a real battlefield themselves.” Thura sighs as she settles into her office chair behind the massive leather-topped oak desk in her expansive study, looking as weary from the telling of her story now as from the energetic bout she recently fought with me. “Unless the Occupation ends while they’re still young I don’t see any chance of their generation being permitted to serve in any kind of military fashion under the current administration. The Terrors are too cautious to risk employing soldiers they can’t be a hundred percent certain they can trust.”

“Sounds about right.” I don’t take a seat in the room’s impressively soft, plush-upholstered furniture yet, instead starting to make a slow circuit of the room as my attention is drawn to the various trophies arrayed around it. Some from her family’s past, I’m sure, but I don’t doubt more than a few of these are mementos of her own time in the service, and I’m already fascinated by the possibilities of what I could potentially find in here. “Honestly, the only reason we can keep doing our work’s cuz they ain’t cracked down on mercs the same way they have on anything more organised.”

“That’s because the Terrors have no interest in being trouble-hunters for the populace as well as peacekeeping it, so they allow the people they’re oppressing to hire people like you to keep the wolves from their doors, both literally and in a more … supernatural sense.” Thura takes a deep breath and lets it out in a heavy sigh as she just languishes for a moment, then pushes herself upright again so she can go to the cut crystal decanters set out in the wet bar in the corner. “It’s not the smartest move on their part, if you ask me.”

“How come?” Art asks as he settles into one of the armchair, dumping his wrapped swordbelt beside his feet.

“Cuz ‘least a third o’ the sellswords out there are remnants of Freedom Legion they didn’t get in the Purge.” I turn right back to what I’m doing as I answer him, preferring to turn my attention to an impressive selection of weapons hung on the wall. “If resistance ever stirred up again half the warriors that’d be fighting in it have had a whole lot of on-the-job practice this past decade to keep ‘em sharp.”

“How about your ladyship?” Dumoli surprises me with that question, and I turn to take him in for a moment before looking at Thura, who’s watching him too with a crystal tumbler in one hand while she’s resting to other on a decanter she ain’t yet picked up. Her expression is … interesting. She ain’t offended in the slightest by the question, despite the fact that, given the conversation, its context is already abundantly clear.

After a moment she smiles, finally slipping the fat stopper out of the neck of the bottle and setting it aside on the bar. Her eyes shift to me then, and that smile seems to grow a little, as if she can already see right through me to what I’m thinking now. “Personally, I’d be all for it too. If the Legion started up again tomorrow I’d sign up in a heartbeat.”

Thorin … I could kiss her right now. It’s interesting, when I met her earlier, I have to admit that, despite being, rather unavoidably, initially starstruck that my own personal hero was right in front of me, once I got past all that, I started to grow a little sceptical. Oh, I had no doubt she was the real deal, I’d already seen what she could do on a training floor … no, it’s just that she’s not at all what I pictured when I stroked myself to an orgasm in my bed at night. I dunno … maybe I really did expect something more like Janna, just with more muscles.

Not that she ain’t attractive to me, mind. She’s clearly looked after herself over the years, still lean and trim and very athletic, lithe and svelte where I was perhaps expecting more burly, robust strength, so in the end she’s more like Shay. She’s got great bones, too, and while she has one hell of a scar marking her face it just adds to her air of danger, but then I’ve always been someone who appreciates the power of a good scar. The corner of it manages to curve the left corner of her mouth up into a subtle permanent smirk, but it’s mostly just striking, and she still has both her eyes. She keeps her hair cropped short, though, likely an affectation from her service she’s never been able to get rid of, but it suits her. Clearly she has more important things to concern herself with.

To be honest, I do still find her attractive, but in a different way now. It’s less that she’s sexy, which she definitely is, more that she’s just … well, she’s a lot like me. This much has become abundantly clear in the time I’ve spent around her – she don’t have time for bullshit, she just says what she thinks, and I like that kind of unflinching honesty, I always thought it was the best way to approach things. But she’s not stupid with it, I suspect she’s lived as long as she has as a prominent, well-known veteran in the Occupation because she knows well enough how important it is to lie her arse off when it’s to the benefit of her family’s continued security. She’s made it abundantly clear that nothing matters more to her than her children’s survival and wellbeing.

That being said, in friendly company like this she don’t go to any pains at all to hide the fact that she has no love at all for the Terrors. It’s no great surprise she holds no office in the current Provisional government, despite her high rank in Rundao nobility – I don’t think the Terrors could ever tolerate the Hellcat holding a position of authority in their Occupation. So she simply tends her family fortune and interests, and the properties and legacy of her house, in the hopes that, when this storm eventually passes, her children, or their children at least, can inherit something better. Or at least that’s what she likes to let them think.

We never knew who the highborn supporters we had in the nobility were when the Legion was still going, it was just safer that way. But now that I’ve met her, I know there’s no way that Thura Vezrim wasn’t one of ‘em, probably her husband too. Her words now are just confirmation.

“I … I have to … is this …” Looking at the weapons mounted on her wall now, I just go ahead and ask. “I’m sorry, but –”

“Yes, it is.” Thura’s smile grows more indulgent now. “And yes you may.”

“Oh … gods, you mean…” Feeling like a small, excited child being treated to something truly special, I reach out with hesitant hands and very gently lift the sheathed longsword from its mounting on the wall. It’s no larger or heavier than Hefdred, but … I don’t know, maybe it’s just the moment, but somehow it feels like more of a genuine weight to me.

Turning it over carefully in my hands, I curl my fingers around the somewhat worn, use-softened leather binding the hilt, then stop, looking back at her now. Thura just nods, still smiling, and I take a very deliberate breath before slowly drawing the sword from its scabbard. Much like I do every time I tend to my own blade, I hold it out at arm’s length and look down the edge, then turn it over and do the same, intensely deliberate now in my inspection.

It's a beautiful piece of work, of similar style to my father’s bastard sword, just a little more richly appointed, the guard and pommel fashioned in somewhat battered bronze rather than the simple heavy burnished steel of my own. The blade is a little wider, the point coming to a more focused triangular tip than Hefdred’s more tapered stiletto-fine point, but it’s no less sharp, and I’d know this perfectly tempered dark metal anywhere. “This is dwarven steel.”

“Yes, it is.” She starts walking toward me now, along the wall at the edge of the room, holding two tumblers full of dark amber liquid. “The best in the world. Your father swore by his, so when I had need of my own after graduation I refused to accept anything less. I went to the Warforges in Haalisbenh and commissioned one especially, made to measure.” She holds one glass out to me. “Gamirred. I named it after an ancient warrior, from the legend of before the Sundering. In all those years it never failed me. Not even in the Valley.”

Breathing out very slowly, I sheathe the sword as carefully as I drew it and hold it out in my left hand while I take the glass from hers with my right. She nods, once, in simple confirmation, and takes her old sword from me.

“It’s beautiful.”

When she smiles this time it’s a little more wistful. “Perhaps. But only as much as any instrument of death is capable of being. I remember you father’s blade very well, it never left his side. Except when he was in their apartments, at least. Adda insisted. There was no danger in their home, she would always insist, so it wasn’t needed there. So he always hung it just inside the door.” Taking a moment to heft it one-handed, she raises the sheathed weapon and lets it rest back in its place on the wall.

“I remember, he still did that after she was gone. He was the same with me, he always insisted if I ever brought any weapons up to our quarters I had to leave them at the door. If I wanted to clean or hone any blades at home I had to do it outside on the balcony.”

This makes Thura grin, and I can’t help doing to same, even if mine feels a little more fragile than I’d like. Finally she raises the glass in her hand. “To Edhril.”

“To da.” I agree, raising my own glass and gently tapping it against hers. I take a little sip and I’m surprised by how smooth it is, there’s very little burn going down. Whisky, rich, but a little sweet, something almost honeyed in its flavour. “Mm.”

As we’ve been talking and toasting, I finally notice, Lady Naru’s been filling more tumblers and passing ‘em out to the others. The same stuff, looks like. When he gets his, Art gives it a good close sniff, and I see the slightest flutter of his eyelids as he takes in the scent. “Oof, what is this?”

“Ah, yes.” Thura chuckles a little. “I brought this back from Haalisbenh as well. The finest dwarven honey whisky, aged for thirty years before they finally cask it. I brought six casks back with me before I left for my first posting, as a present to my father. For helping me get into the war academy.” She catches my eye and cocks a brow. “Of course, making the elite selection and having your father train me I did on my own.”

Raising the glass again, I acknowledge that she has every right to be proud of herself for how good she’s become. Thorin knows she ran me ragged down there. She definitely did da’s training proud.

That said, I didn’t roll over and just give in to her. In reality, what it ultimately came to was something like a somewhat uneasy draw, she has me beat for speed but I’m definitely stronger, and in the end we decided to call it a day before we just wore each other into the floor. But I enjoyed myself immensely, even more than I thought I would – it may have started out simply as a chance to cross swords with my hero, but it soon became more of an opportunity to test my mettle against one o’ my da’s finest achievements as a teacher. To an extent it was almost like trying to fight a ghost, one who fought as hard and fast and agile as he did, even though he was getting old, and it was very interesting for me because I knew all those moves intimately well, because they’re my own, but I still couldn’t beat ‘em. She’s too good for that. In the end I just worked my hardest to keep up, and I feel damn proud enough that I managed that.

I saw the way her children were seeing their mother fighting trough new eyes, too. This time she was clearly up against an equal, someone she didn’t have to hold back with, who could actually genuinely test her, and she fought to her utmost capacity this time. By the end I saw that Deriel was staring dumbfounded at the pair of us, but his mother in particular, and Pela’s eyes were the widest I’d seen them since we met.

In truth, I found it easier fighting with the training sword her son loaned me than I ever would have with Hefdred. At first, she insisted that I use my own blade, but I waved that off quickly enough, insisting it would be an unfair danger in a simple practice bout, I didn’t want to run the very real danger of hurting or, potentially, even killing her accidentally if we got too into it. In the end the blunt practice steel was safer.

That being said, neither of us held back any, and it didn’t feel any different from the real thing. Training steels are forged exactly the same way as real swords, they’re simply left unfinished so their edges blunt and tips are rounded off, so if you catch your opponent with a hard blow it’ll definitely hurt but there’s little danger of cutting ‘em, especially wearing the proper gear. They’re designed to approximate the heft, reach and give of a real blade, but without creating any real danger for the person wielding it, or the one facing it. Even so, I still managed to decapitate a lot of training dummies in the barracks with ‘em when I was growing up, enough that da started making me pay to replace each one I damaged unnecessarily myself, so I stopped doing it after a while.

Altogether, I have a much more mature, healthy respect for this woman than I think I did before, now I’m aware of just how capable she still is. Mostly, though, I just like her, and she’s made it clear that she likes me too.

For a few moments we just stay as we are, Thura taking another sip of her own as she turns to look over her own collection. Eventually I start wandering again myself, until I come to a rather battered suit of plate armour mounted on a standing dummy close to the bar. She quickly sidles up to me again as I’m inspecting it, but doesn’t say anything for a stretch.

Much like her sword, it’s extremely well made but has clearly seen better days, although it’s definitely been looked after well despite the weathering. That being said, there are a few obvious rends and punctures in the thick, tough steel plate that haven’t been repaired, despite the careful cleaning it’s been dealt, and while there’s nothing immediately fatal here, whoever wore it definitely went through it.

When I turn to her, the way she’s looking at the armour very much reminds me of the way she regarded her sword as she put it away again, and I make the connection. “This was your armour. You wore this in the Valley.”

“For three full days, yes. It was a hard battle, and I’ll admit there are several parts I don’t really even remember. The end is still mostly a blank to me, I was so completely exhausted and very torn up. My shield was completely ruined, there wasn’t enough left of it to save. I slept for two whole days after while they did their best to patch up the worst of it, but when they finally got me back to Tabaphic I was still a week in the hands of the clerics before they finally let me go, and it was another month before I could really walk again. I was a mess.”

“You saved us all, though. You fought those bastards back, long enough that the rest of the army could shove ‘em all the way back to the border again. It was a fucking miracle, what you did. You made my da proud with those three days.”

Thura’s smile is more than a little mournful as she reaches up with her free hand and touches my cheek, letting her fingers stay there for several moments before withdrawing again. “Thank you. I am glad he felt that way. I did my damnedest to live up to what he wanted me to be … but I still felt …” She lets a heavy sigh go now, then knocks back the rest of her drink in one big swallow, and it makes her cough a little. “Oh … gods, Kesla. I felt ashamed.”

I honestly don’t know how to respond to that. I open my mouth, but the words just won’t come to me.

“My Unbroken … I led them into a slaughter. They were the best men and women I’d ever met in my life, as good as your da, as fierce and as fine and as kind and as loyal as anyone I’ve ever known. They knew that it was only going to end one way, that they were going to die making sure that those fucking Terrors never made it further south than we’d let them while the very last of us still drew breath, and I held the front for as long as I could through the fight. I saw friends I’d bled with countless times before cut down on either side of me and I couldn’t do anything because if I stopped for a moment to try and help them, the line would have broken and that would have been it. They had to pull me off the vanguard three times and practically force me to sleep for a few hours after a quick meal so I didn’t just drop from exhaustion, and each time I let them I knew my friends were dying up there without me.”

After a deep breath, she stalks back to the bar and refills her glass. When she turns back to me now she just looks haunted. “The Hellcat of Kumehn Valley … I didn’t deserve to be lauded for that. I didn’t deserve all the commendations, the promotions, the celebrations in the capitol. I don’t deserve to be remembered for those three days. I wasn’t a hero. The heroes were the poor bastards that are buried up there because I lived.”

For a long moment I just look at her, feeling shocked and shook and all kinds of guilty now about what I said, or tried to say and failed so badly. Finally I knock back the rest of my own drink too and now I feel the burn as I swallow, but I forge ahead all the same, walking up to her as her eyes widen and she holds a faltering hand up to try and ward me off. I set the glass down on the bar and fold her into a hug and she just melts in my arms.

She doesn’t cry, and I guess I’m kinda grateful for it, I think I might’ve started too myself. “I get it.” I finally mutter, keeping my voice as low as I can so it’s just for the two of us. “Some battles are too ugly to feel good about afterwards. Even the ones that need to be fought.”

She starts to laugh a little at that, and when she pushes me away I let her. She looks up at me, and while her eyes are wet her smile is mostly just rueful. “Your da taught you more than just combat, clearly.”

“He wanted me to be ready for anything that this kind o’ life would throw at me. I guess that includes the shitty hands fate deals you sometimes.”

Nodding, Thura takes a step past me and grabs my empty glass, then steps back to retrieve the decanter again so she can refill my glass too. Then someone knocks at the door and she straightens up. “Ah. Yes. Finally.” She passes me the tumbler and stalks back across the room again, making a beeline through the clutter for the door.

The others are watching her progress with curiosity, although I detect a note of disquiet in Dumoli now, as if he’s expecting an unpleasant surprise to be waiting on the other side when that door opens. Lady Naru, on the other hand, is already on her feet, but she still looks perfectly calm, as if she’s been expecting this. Maybe she has.

“Just in time, as it turns out.” Thura muses after she opens the door, stepping back immediately as what I can only describe as a force of nature stalks into the room.

I’ve never actually met a fat dragonhalf before, but this one could put in a bid for the role. He’s shorter than most I’ve come across, if you count his horns he’s barely as tall as I am, but he doesn’t seem small because he’s so broad, across the shoulders but also his waistline, although in his case I suspect that might be more due to muscle. Certainly he’s clearly got an expansive personality to match his girth, the way his booming voice reverberates around the room as he announces himself. “I always arrive precisely when intended as you know, my dear! If I promise to attend an appointment I can be relied upon to make good on my commitments!”

This one’s not just an unusual member of his race in terms of his proportions, either. I’ve met plenty of red dragonhalves, and greens, and even a few blues and blacks in my time, but this is the first with brass dragon-blood I’ve ever encountered. His tan leathern scales have a coolly lustrous gleam which is extremely striking, and given his clear personality I suspect he buffs them up at every opportunity to appear even more impressive. His snout is fairly short, but his face is broad like the rest of him, giving him an appearance of somewhat reptilian jolliness that’s definitely enhanced by an easy smile and deep crow’s feet around his glowing blue eyes. His horns are gleaming ebony and there are six of ‘em, all substantial, twirling affairs that add to his general majesty, while his spiky tail seems to constantly wag in a lazy back-and-forth manner even after he comes to a stop in the middle of the room.

He's dressed in a very similar manner to most of the other nobles I’ve encountered in my time, but his long, flowing robes are some of the finest I’ve ever seen, rick silks and brocaded velvets with subtle trims of spider silk-fine lace picked out in shades of deep red and gold. Before he stopped, I caught sight of his boots, which are rich, well-made chocolate brown leather buffed to an even higher sheen than his scales, and his clawed fingers are substantially adorned with thick rings heavily bedecked with gems. I see Art sitting up already as he catches sight of those, and I try not to roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes, that’s all very well.” Thura sighs, clearly nonplussed now. “But I’m sure Lady Naru already made it clear that this was to be a secret meeting as well. Please tell me you at least took the necessary precautions before you came.”

Frowning, which seems like a strangely alien expression on his face, actually, the dragonhalf gives her a look, flicking his fingers at her in something like a shooing gesture. “Oh for the love of … I know, Thura, I’m not an idiot. Your lovely contact already filled me in on the problem at hand, so I left the arrangements to her.”

“So where is the young Mistress then?” Thura matches his look with her own, but this one’s a good deal more forceful. “I know you think the world revolves around you, but I was hoping to get her advice as well in this matter.”

“Now children, please.” Lady Naru places herself between them both now, still seeming perfectly calm and serene. “This is hardly the time –”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Another new arrival closes the door behind her as soon as she’s entered the room, looking very sheepish, and the moment she does her Tulen springs to her feet. “I was coming, I promise, but there was a very inquisitive little girl in the hallway who insisted on asking me if I was a wizard as well. I was somewhat thrown by the last part.”

This makes Thura giggle, covering her mouth too late to stifle it as she rolls her eyes. “Oh Mara … my apologies, my daughter can be quite a handful.”

“Sessa,” Tulen breathes barely a beat after, looking a little flustered now. “It’s … um … hello, I’m … I’m sorry, I thought –”

“Tulen!” The newcomer’s eyes go wide, and her expression is complicated, although there’s as much trepidation in it as surprise. “You’re … but I thought Gael was …” She turns and looks at Lady Naru now, as if searching for help.

“She’s busy, something else came up and she’s dealing with it.” Lady Naru sighs, stepping her way now. “My apologies, things have become quite fluid, I couldn’t relay all the relevant details at once.”

As this somewhat thin explanation sinks in, this new wizard starts to frown, taking a deep breath as, I imagine, she starts to piece things together for herself. I’ll admit, it’s a strange expression on this particular face, but then I’ve never actually met a half-orc mage before.

She’s certainly very striking, tall and broad across her shoulders, particularly chubby for a half-orc but her natural strength still shows through, and she seems comfortable enough in her white and silver robes of office. She’s already thrown back her hood, and she wears her long hair down, thick, silken black curls tumbling heavily over her shoulders and framing her round, cherubic face. As she takes in the rest of us, she fumbles her staff somewhat as she passes it from one hand to the other, and has to scramble a little to keep from dropping it. It’s a simple wooden affair, somewhat like Gael’s old one before it was broken, but made from a much paler wood, tall and thin and topped with a simple capped bowl with its crystal already mounted inside.

“Oh … oh, of course, that’s … yes. I’m sorry, that makes perfect sense.” She licks her soft, full lips, taking another deep breath, and turns to Tulen again, and this time she seems to be getting hold of herself again. “You’re … I mean, you’re here. I thought … I mean, you don’t do field work. Why … what are you … um …”

Tulen’s growing very dark across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, I notice, and while it’s becoming clear to me now that this newcomer is a rather anxious individual most of the time, our dragonhalf friend doesn’t seem to be handling this surprise meeting much better. “Well … I mean, Gael needed help. It’s their da …”

“I heard, yes.” Letting her breath go in a long puff, the half-orc lowers her eyes and reaches up to brush her hair aside from her face in clear discomfort, and I can see a deep blush spreading across her face too. “Um … it’s … it is good to see you.”

“And you.” Tulen manages a wan smile, having trouble with eye-contact herself now. “I mean … yeah, I’ve missed you.”

The girl looks up at this, and when their eyes lock again it’s a genuinely electric moment, and suddenly all the awkwardness starts to make sense to me. Then Tulen just steps forward and folds her into a hug and the newcomer’s only stiff for a moment longer before she just melts and returns it.

For a little while the room is silent, and there are a variety of expressions on display amongst the group at large, although Thura’s simply wearing that same mischievous smile I found so striking before. Then the dragonhalf noble clears his throat somewhat louder than strictly necessary and they both spring apart as if they’ve just been caught out doing something far more inappropriate.

“Oh … I am … so sorry, my Lord.” The half-orc almost squeaks the words as free hand flies up to cover her mouth. “I didn’t mean –”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s fine.” The grin that the noble offers up is a good deal sharper than previous, clearly intended to convey deeper meaning now. “It’s not like our business is urgent or anything.”

“Forgive us, my Lord.” Tulen huffs and puffs some as she tries to cover, but her blush has deepened so much her embarrassment’s still writ large across her. “It’s just we haven’t seen each other for … since Winterheart. Um …”

“It’s cool, Tu.” I step up to her side now, resisting the urge to just wrap my arm round her shoulders and give her a companionable squeeze to comfort her, instead looking the other young wizard over. In truth, I reckon I worked out who she is now, I’ve heard enough about the friends Gael made during their Academy years now to have a good idea. “You’d be Sessa, right?”

The half-orc blinks, surprised, and slowly lowers her hand from her face again. Her own blush is still deep too, but curiosity is taking over from her deep discomfort now. “Um … I am ... oh, yes. Yes, I am. Sorry …” She flaps her hand for a moment, unsure what to do with herself I think, then finally remembers and gives what I’ve come to recognise as the Order’s signature salute, before frowning and extending her right hand after all. “Very sorry. Um … yes, I am. Sessa Ruthik, of the Silver Order. Junior Advisor to the Provisional Government in Untermer.”

Taking her hand, I give it a friendly squeeze and firm pump. “Kesla Shoon. Of nothing in particular, aside from the Creeping Bam.”

Sessa looks me over again, a little more critically now, and starts to smile. “Oh … oh yes, of course. Yes, I do know who you are, yes. Gael’s written about you, all of you. She speaks particularly highly of you.” When she finally lets go of my hand her smile’s grown very warm, and she’s straightened up to her full height, her shoulders losing any signs of a slouch now, and I can see how much more confident she can be when she’s not taken so completely by surprise.

“That’s lovely, of course, but –” The dragonhalf noble’s still smiling, and he seems jolly enough now that the situation’s been defused, although I think he’s still trying to make a point all the same.

Certainly it occurs to Sessa. “Oh! Yes! Sorry … um … yes, sorry. Mistress Shoon, this is Lord Shembad Wralin of House Orlaprax. Formerly of the Royal Council.” She starts to squirm a little now, folding her hands behind her back as she lowers her eyes. “Um … because … you know … of … reasons …”

“The bloody Terrors gave me the boot after they invaded.” he growls as he shakes my hand, but there’s still a subtle smile on his face, albeit a rueful one. “Couldn’t let a decorated general with a reputation for kicking their pale arses at every engagement serve in their precious Provisional sham.” He turns to Sessa. “No offence meant, my dear.”

“Oh, no. None taken, my Lord.” She bows formally. “After all, it’s only an assignment. And I can do actual good where I am, of course. Much like Lady Naru.” She shrugs, growing sheepish again. “Um … well, I try at least …”

“You do good, my dear.” Lady Naru wafts up to her side in almost perfect silence. “Our own dealings between the Court and the Provisionals have always ended most amicably, both here and in Tabaphic.”

“Well, yes, but … I mean, I only advise. None of them have to listen to me. And often enough they don’t.” She sighs. “Mostly I just do what the Order asks me to do, anyway.”

“Which is the point.” Lady Naru smiles at her now. “That’s why you’re so good at your job. You do what you’re told, and you don’t make any waves if you don’t have to. So they accept you as one of their own. Meanwhile you pay attention. Which is invaluable for the real work.”

“Such as what we have here.” Lord Wralin grins, and as expected it’s full of sharp teeth. “Sticking it to the bastards who think they can get away with anything they like now. Such as that unpleasant bloodless little monster Hontiresk.”

“Who?” I don’t know that name.

“Refik Hontiresk.” Lord Wralin sucks in his lips, clearly offended by the very thought of whoever it is he’s talking about. It makes him look like he’s sucking on the sourest lemon in the world. “One of the senior Administrators in the Authority here in Untermer. There are a few particularly slippery bastards we’ve had our eye on for a while now, but he’s the top of the list. He rose through the ranks with impressive speed when his father took a fatal tumble down a particularly tall staircase just after the Invasion, now he controls all his family’s interests and a good deal more.”

“Very few people who’ve actually met that loathsome little reptile actually believe his father’s death was an accident, either. Never mind that it was far too conveniently timed.” Thura returns to the group now carefully holding two more tumblers underhand so she can hold onto her own as well, offering both up to the new arrivals. “Of course no-one’s ever come out and said as much. He has a habit of making most people who disagree with him disappear.”

“Most people?” I venture, already suspicious about the answer.

Taking both glasses, Wralin retains one while passing the other to Sessa, who just frowns down at the drink like she’s deeply unaccustomed. “Myself, Lady Vezrim, Madame Daste and a few of his other detractors are a little too important to just … accident away.”

“You reckon this is who we’re up against?” I turn to Thura now. “The money behind Jammund and Vandryss?”

“Hontiresk is in charge of the docks. Jammund’s one of his pets, and from what we’ve been able to surmise, a particularly favoured one.” She folds her arms, letting her glass dangle from her hand as she considers. “This … Vandryss person you’ve described to us isn’t at all familiar, but we’ve had some particular trouble keeping as close an eye on the docks lately as we’d like. Half the people we’ve tried to send in over the past six months or so in particular haven’t come back out again.”

“But I thought you were both just private citizens now.” Tulen ventures, looking a little confused now. “Sessa said you’d retired, my Lord. And you said as much yourself, my Lady.”

“Well, yes.” Wralin regards her for a moment, slowly cocking a brow as he starts to smile again, and I get the feeling he’s getting a good measure of her now. Then he steps forward and takes her hand, which makes her go very stiff, taking her very much by surprise, so when he starts to lead her back through the jumble of furniture to one of the empty spots on a couch she goes without objection. “Of course, my dear. On the surface that’s very much the case. But that never sat well with me, any more than it did with our beloved Hellcat. So we both did what we could when we could, and after that fell through we simply worked with whatever was left available to us.”

As Tulen settles where he’s placed her, Sessa quickly takes up the seat beside her, and the rest of us start to gravitate into the centre of the room too. There’s an interesting moment when Lord Wralin turns and freezes on the spot, looking towards the corner of the room where Driver 8’s stayed since he came in. Thankfully this office is on the ground floor so he didn’t have to navigate the stirs, but the corridor outside was barely wide enough for him to enter without turning, and Big Man found the doorway itself quite the task. He offered to stay outside and just listen in as well as he could through the closed door, but Thura insisted he join us properly, so he squeezed through the best he could without wrecking the place and then planted himself on the spot once he was inside. Very mindful indeed this place is clearly filled with beloved mementos from the Lady’s glorious past that he really doesn’t want to damage.

“Goodness me!” Lord Wralin exclaims before taking a big swallow of his whisky. “Hello there.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lord Wralin.” the golem rumbles “I am Driver 8, known to my friends as Big Man.”

Grinning wide, the dragonhalf tips a particularly deep formal bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, my good friend. It has been a very long time since I’ve encountered an actual honest to gods functional golem.”

“I should very much like to hear about your previous experiences, my Lord.” Big Man can’t smile, of course, but the way he straightens up a little bit tells me he’s beaming with pride all the same.

Chuckling warmly, Lord Wralin nods his assent. “I’d like that as well, after our business is concluded.” He takes another, more modest sip of his drink now as he turns back to the rest of us. “He’s incredible! I really am looking forward to that conversation.”

“Yeah, he’s really something.” Nodding myself, I move to Art’s side as he looks over at Tulen, who I notice has already laced her own hand into Sessa’s as they lean into each other on the couch, sharing an amiable smile now. Reaching down, I get hold of Art’s shoulder and drag him to his feet before he can start to protest. “My Lord?”

“Hmm?” For a moment Lord Wralin just looks at me curiously, then he catches my nod towards the now vacated chair and smiles again. “Oh, yes. Much obliged, my dear.”

Letting go of Art, I studiously ignore him as he starts glaring daggers at me and drop into the remaining armchair, while Lady Naru’s already taken up the empty space on the other couch beside Dumoli. Seeing there’s nowhere left for him to sit, Art scowls at me and stalks over, finally perching on the arm of my chair instead of sitting on the floor.

“That was uncalled for.” He growls, low so it’s just for me as he leans in.

“Really? I thought it was very much called for.” I give him an innocent smile that I’m sure don’t convince him at all. “You gotta learn to defer to your betters.”

Giving me a last hot glare, Art lets out a heavy sigh and sits up again, finally taking a swallow of his drink as he starts to observe Tulen and Sessa again. They both look very comfortable together, my previous evaluation of their relationship seeming to hold up now.

“Face it, Art.” I whisper up at him “You never had a chance there.”

“What?” He snaps it a little louder than intended, I think, so after casting about for a moment he leans in again to whisper close in my ear. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I mean, it’s very clear to me now you’re just not her type.” I nod over at the two young wizards as they start to whisper to each other, and a moment both dissolve into a fit of giggles. Tulen gives Sessa’s hand a little squeeze and the half-orc just rests her head on her friend’s shoulder.

Following my gaze, Art’s frown deepens further, then he glares down at me again. “That wasn’t what I –”

“So, you were with the Legion then, my Lord?” I just run roughshod right over him as I raise my voice again, sitting forward as I turn to Lord Wralin. I can feel the furious weight of Art’s stare but I’ve long since grown immune.

Pausing just after taking a sip, the dragonhalf regards me for a long moment with a somewhat curious look on his face, looking me over as close as I’m doing to him now. Finally he cocks a brow as he swallows, and doesn’t need to so much as clear his throat , but then I’m not surprised. “Not so directly involved as yourself, I suspect.”

I have to smile at that, although it’s a cautious one. “Interesting you could tell.”

“Nonsense, I heard your name several times while the Resistance was still alive. You were one of our best fighters, you did your father proud every day. I’ll admit I’ve found this meeting a refreshing enough revelation simply learning you’re still alive after all. After Tabaphic –”

“Not for lack o’ the bastards trying. Hardly any of us made it out, and that was it. I was stuck hiding in Hocknar for six months, so I had to just disappear. I guess the others felt the same.” I roll the tumbler between my fingers as I look down into the gently sloshing surface of the finger of whisky left in it. “Honestly, there’s times I wish we’d just kept fighting after all.”

”It wouldn’t have helped, we would have simply lost what little resources we had left. You’re all of you too valuable for that.” Thura’s remained standing while the rest of us sat, slowly stalking round the room like she’s feeling restless, which might not be far from the truth. “We’ve looked into the possibility over the years since, but …”

Looking at her for a long, loaded moment, Lord Wralin growls subtly under his breath. “The truth is, we think we might have been compromised in the end. In Tabaphic, it was … ugly. The Terrors, they fell on you all too quickly , and far too well coordinated. As if they knew exactly who and where to hit all at once to cripple the Legion in one fell swoop.”

“You mean …” I grip the tumbler a little tighter than I’d like for a moment before I remember myself, but thankfully the crystal’s well cut, it doesn’t crack under the pressure. “You think it was someone on the inside? A traitor?”

“Quite likely, yes.” Wralin looks to Thura again, and his frown deepens. “Something about how it went down, it felt a little too much like the fall, the start of the invasion itself. The way those bastards were suddenly in our midst like that without us knowing, just a day after they started their push in the North … it was as if someone opened the doors for them to step right in. And then again, in Tabaphic, when the Legion’s core leadership were slaughtered in a single night, and the rest of you were left to scatter like rats under torchlight …” He grimaces, hissing angrily now, and for a moment there’s a subtle, sulphurous smell in the air, while a little wisp of something vaporous wafts from between his teeth, only for him to suck it back in almost immediately, as if he remembers himself. His frown deepens to something close to thunderous now. “”We don’t know who it was. That’s the problem.”

“That’s why none of us have tried to start things up, even though Shem and a few of the others have shown themselves to be above reproach.” Thura turns to regard Lady Naru for a long moment, and the sorcerer takes a thoughtful sip from her glass before looking my way. Her own expression is complicated.

“You too?” I ask her after moment.

“Never in any official capacity. It can be very dangerous, if someone like me definitively chooses a side, but … well, it was an ugly business, the way they just … took over like they did. It never sat well with me. So I always tried to help out however I could.”

“Thank you.” It feels so inadequate, just saying that, but … well, given how standoffish I’ve been with her so far, I just want to do more than that, but I can’t think how.

“There’s no need for it. It was the right thing to do.”

That makes me blink. There’s something about that which reminds me so much of Krakka, the way he was during the Resistance, when I first came to know him. Studiously trying to keep out of the conflict itself, mostly because of the tenets of his faith and his devotion to his goddess, so in the end he just helped anyone who needed it, whether they were Legion or Terrors. But even so, he still had his own preference about who needed the help more, because he was who he was, and he couldn’t just stand by.

I’m really starting to like her, I think.

“So … there are still more of you out there, then?” Dumoli ventures after a few moments of thoughtful silence. “Former Legion, or at least their patrons?”

“Did you serve, Master Bitterbrow?” Thura wonders, regarding him a little more critically than she did when they were first introduced. “I couldn’t place your name before …”

“Not in the Legion, no. I was a Rundao regular, once upon a time, but I mustered out before the Occupation even started. I was already in the merc game, so I suppose I had business on my mind instead. Mostly we never bothered to involve ourselves.” He shrugs. “I mean, we know plenty of former members, but that‘s the way the game works these days.”

Nodding, Thura unfolds her arms before taking another big pull from her tumbler, effectively draining it now. She frowns into it for a moment, then stalks back to the bar.

“There are others left, yes.” Lord Wralin growls “Some here, some elsewhere. Nowhere near as many in Tabaphic as there once were, unfortunately. The Second Purge was a little too thorough, even more so than the First. Whoever the bastard was who turns on us, they did their job too well there in particular.”

“So it was one o’ them then.” Art ventures, then blinks when I look up at him with particularly sharp interest. “Right? I mean … stands to reason, if it hit hardest there, then …”

“That’s the pervading theory, yes.” Thura’s pouring herself another now. “Unfortunately, since we can’t be certain … well, we’re stuck because of it. We don’t know who to trust, so all we can do now is watch.”

“Which is what you say I’m doing.” Sessa muses, looking a little perturbed while Tulen watches her sidelong with wary curiosity. “You’re doing the same.”

“A few of us, yes.” Lord Wralin’s still frowning as he regards her. “We pass on what we can, if there’s reason, but … our hands are very much tied now, I’m afraid.”

“Which is why Madame Daste sent us to you.” I have to smile, and it feels as bitter as it must look. “For what it’s worth.”

“Well, your business is as complicated as ours, it would seem.” Thura returns to the group now, her arms folded across her chest again with her glass clutched under her chin, and her expression is quizzical now. “Right now, it seems our stars have aligned. Though I’d have been mindful to help you anyway.”

“As am I.” Lord Wralin chuckles.

Nodding, I look down into the glass for a moment longer, than take another big swallow to finish my drink. I let it settle in my stomach before placing the glass on the floor by the leg of my chair. “So, this Hontiresk fellow …”

“As we said, there’s no way to be sure.” Thura sighs “But he’s definitely a safe bet. If nothing else he’d been smart to check off the list if he isn’t, just to be sure.”

Lord Wralin finishes his own drink now, swilling it for a moment before swallowing, and again it doesn’t seem to have any noticeable effect on him. Dragonhalves, really. “Personally, I’d be very surprised if he wasn’t your man. This is very much his wheelhouse, and learning that there might be someone worse pulling his strings isn’t that much of a stretch.” He holds the empty glass up now, turning it slowly as he looks into the crystal, rainbow colours subtly shifting in the candlelight. “Besides, he has … unpleasant tastes, I’m led to understand.”

“Like trafficking in people?” Tulen looks somewhat haunted when she asks that.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” The dragonhalf finally sets his glass down on the arm of his chair and laces his long, taloned fingers together as he settles back the rest of the way into the soft, creaking leather, growing thoughtful now. “You mentioned … I’m not sure, Mistress Ruthik’s report was not so very detailed as I would have liked. Something about a questionable mage.”

“Yeah, there’s one o’ them too.” Art sighs before taking a big gulp of his own whisky. “A warlock, is the consensus. I dunno, ain’t really my expertise, but …”

The look that passes between Thura and Lord Wralin is very dark, the dragonhalf sitting up again so he can lean forward and regard me for a long moment. “You think something eldritch might be going on here?”

“It’s starting to look that way, yeah.” I shrug. “That bitch Vandryss is … worrying. She doesn’t look like anything I ever dealt with before, and our ranger … Yeslee’s hunted a whole lot of dark shit in her time, I been able to surmise, but she don’t recognise her kind any more’n I do. And when we fought …” I grimace, unable to keep myself from shuddering.

“What happened?” Thura’s watching me close, and she almost looks nervous now.

“I ran Hefdred right through her. Right up to the hilt. Through her fucking heart. And she just shrugged it off.”

“Bloody hell.” Sessa’s eyes are real big now, while her voice was real small.

If I thought Thura looked nervous before she looks scared now, and it really don’t look right on her face. Clearly fear ain’t something she shows much at all, but right now she can’t help it. “I … I’ve never heard of anything like that either. And I’ve fought some …” She looks to Lord Wralin. “Does that remind you of anything?”

“Was she …” He frowns deep, but I can sense an undercurrent to his consternation now. Something like fear, much as with Thura, but more well-disguised. “Do you suppose she was undead?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t reckon so. I was face to face with her, an’ I seen plenty undead things in my life … she was definitely alive. Nasty, and wrong, but alive.”

“That’s … worrying.” Lord Wralin turns to regard Lady Naru now, and I notice Thura’s doing the same, but the sorcerer simply shakes her head. I notice she’s become quite solemn now, but ain’t shook like the others now. Then again we did go over this with her once already.

Everyone just ponders for a while, and I look down at my hands, steady, finding no tremors in them despite the turn of our conversation. Eventually I look up to find Tulen’s got her head bowed again, eyes closed, and I’m already sat as far forward as I can get, so I just get to my feet instead. I’ve taken a step forward almost before I realise it.

Art starts to ask what’s up, but then he must notice too, so he just falls silent. Other eyes are turning her way now, and while we wait for her to come out of her induced trance again I feel further tension starting to rise in me. My hands are tightening into fists and I didn’t even ask them to. I want to ask her what’s up but I know it’d be useless until she breaks contact.

It goes on for another short stretch, and I know I ain’t the only one getting impatient. Dumoli’s shuffled forward in his seat now, ready to jump off at the first opportunity, and Sessa’s leaning close to her friend now, looking a little fretful. I suspect her own growing concern’s more due to her reading the reaction in the group, though, since she’s currently less well-informed of the specifics of what the other group is involved with.

I sense someone moving close to me now, and I have a moment where I start to tense up, I can’t help it, I’m just too wired at the moment, but then I see through the corner of my eye it’s just Thura, and I start to relax again, much as I can at least. For a moment she just looks back at me, and when I turn her way she manages a smile, although it looks a little hesitant. “Look at it this way, it might be good news.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, I find it real hard to summon a smile o’ my own. “The way our luck’s been going lately … I dunno.”

Tulen breathes out, long and low, and finally raises her chin again, slowly opening her eyes. For a moment she just takes in all the expectant faces, her gaze lingering on me and Thura as we can’t help both stepping right up to look down at her, and she visibly swallows, seeming nervous now. But then she takes a deep breath, sitting up as she extricates her hand from Sessa’s and takes a moment to smooth down her clothes as she clears her throat. Not wanting to rush, clearly. It must be big news.

“They’re all right. It worked … the raid, I mean. They found Tog, and the others are all right. Darwyn had a close call, but Shay pulled her through fine.” She ponders for a moment, then look right up at me. “They found something else, though. Some-one else. And took him alive.”

That has me frowning, but I feel an electric kind of anticipation stirring in me now all the same. Maybe it’s a break. Gods know we need one. “Who?”

“Gael says it’s Vik.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 3 chapter 14 #fantasy fiction #original fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

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gamergirl929 · 3 years

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They Hate Each Other (No They Don't, Not Really) (Alex Morgan x Reader)

All would agree, your arch nemesis showing up absolutely anywhere you were would ruin your day, but that’s EXACTLY what happens to one veteran USWNT player, Alex Morgan, when she runs into her arch nemesis at the USWNT camp.

Alex Morgan’s eyes widen, pure rage running through her when you strut towards her, bag in hand.

“You shouldn’t look at your soon to be teammate like that Morgan, frowning gives you wrinkles.” You wink, the forward’s lip curling in a snarl.

“What’s she doing-

“I DON’T KNOW.” Alex yells, nearly making Kelley jump out of her skin.

Alex was absolutely livid, seeing you at the USWNT camp had been a surprise, and not a wonderful one.

The second Alex spotted Vlatko Andonovski she advances angrily on the man, who’s looking at her as if he expected this reaction.

“Alex-

“What the hell!? We’re you going to tell me? To tell US?!” She yells, louder than intended, but you’d riled her up in way no one had before.

“I didn’t know you were the coach this year Morgan, if I did, I would’ve stayed home.” You snark, your smirk making Alex growl.

“Shut UP!” She yells and you laugh.

“We should room together Morgan, I think we’d make GREAT roommates.”

Alex growls, mumbling under her breath.

“It’ll be easier to smother you in your sleep then.”

You smirk cockily.

“Kinky.”

Alex snarls angrily.

“Listen.” Vlatko holds a hand up, glancing your way before turning back to Alex.

“Y/N is one of the best players in the world, having her at our camp, and possibly on the team brings our team up to the next level. I saw a chance, and I took it.”

Alex shakes her head.

“But-

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry Alex.” He pats her on her shoulder before turning away and walking off.

Alex meanwhile is standing stock still, her mouth agape.

Her biggest rival had just joined the USWNT camp, and would PROBABLY join the USWNT.

She growls.

“Fuck.”

***

If you were being honest, you absolutely hated Alex Patricia Morgan, the woman knew how to push your buttons and she did so whenever she could.

You’d met during college, of course, on rival teams, ultimately where your rivalry began, a rivalry that seeped into your NWNT career, and when Alex came overseas, donning the Tottenham Hotspur’s jersey, you were there, wearing a red and white Arsenal’s jersey.

Needless to say, when the two teams squared up, your rivalry continued.

Alex hated you just as much as you hated her, making the competition between the two of you even more fierce.

It surprised literally EVERYONE that the two of you hadn’t killed one another yet.

At this current moment in time though, you were currently literal moments from killing one another.

“I didn’t mean to step on your cleats Morgan, just go to the store when practice is over and buy another pair.” You snort.

Alex lets out a feral growl.

“You are SO fucking infuriating!”

You blow the woman a kiss, which only infuriates her more, the woman stomping her foot before she trudges off.

“Fuck off!” She yells over her shoulder and you scoff.

“You too!”

***

Vlatko rubs the back of his neck watching as you and Alex hurl insults at one another. He’d known about your rivalry, but he wasn’t aware that it went to the extent of actual hatred.

Alex was absolutely fuming as you walked past her, moments after sinking a goal in her team’s net.

“Don’t look so mad Morgan, we both know I’m better than you could ever dream of being.”

Alex stomps passed you, the woman’s shoulder slamming into yours.

You flip around, eyes full of absolute fire.

“Body check me again Morgan, I fucking dare you.” You growl in her face, so much so that your nose brushes hers.

Alex pushes you backwards.

“Nobody tells me what to do on MY FIELD.”

You snicker.

“Your field?” You throw your head back, barking out a laugh, though when you stop laughing you lean towards her, smirking.

“Let’s see how much longer this field is yours, you numpty.”

Alex growls as you walk towards the nearby benches with a confident strut.

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”

***

“I don’t get why you hate Y/N so much ANYWAY, she seems nice...”

The second the words leave Emily’s mouth she feels as if she’s about to burst into flames from the absolute fiery glare she’s getting from Alex.

Kelley immediately slips in between Alex and Emily, her hands held up in surrender.

“Jan, please don’t kill Emily, who else will carry on the Frat Daddy legacy!?” The defender asks, pleading for her child’s life.

Alex snarls, stomping away from the two of them, all the while mumbling angrily under her breath.

“Y/N NICE?! How could ANYONE put her and NICE in the same fucking sentence???” She snarls, deciding that some time on the field would clear her mind.

***

Though what Alex DOESN’T expect when she gets to the field is to find you there, the field between you and the goal littered with soccer balls.

Alex ducks down when you turn her way, an aggravated snarl leaving you.

“BLOODY HELL!” You yell, Alex’s eyes widening at the thickness of your accent.

She peeks out from her hiding place, watching as you drop down onto the pitch, sitting in a cross-legged position.

Alex frowns when she sees your face is buried in your hands.

“Fuck that shite.” You sigh as you move to your feet, wiping the sweat from your brow with your bare arm.

Alex isn’t sure what possess her to stay for so long, but nearly an hour later you’re still on field, sinking ball after ball in different angles, it’s when you miss one that you angrily snarl.

“Nothing but a right, cock-up!”

Alex shakes her head, her brows furrowed.

Why were you so hard on yourself after you’d done so well within an hours time?

Alex’s eyes widen when she sees you glance her way your brows furrowed.

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You shout, standing stock still.

When no one replies, you give your head a rapid shake, unaware that Alex is currently sprinting away from the scene.

“Must’ve imagined it.”

***

Alex had seen how hard you were on yourself that day, but that in no way quelled her anger entirely considering you were at each other's throats after the fact.

“You did that on fucking PURPOSE!” Alex growls as she’s helped to the bench, her leg injured from an accidental cleating by yours truly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you jog over to the bench.

“I didn’t!” You growl as you drop to your knees in front of her, the forward’s eyes wide and brows furrowed when you gently slip her cleat off her foot, along with her sock, now noticing the hints of blood dotting the fabric.

“Shite.” You mumble, swiping the nearby first aid kit from the team’s doctor.

“Yeah, I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t make you purposely bleed.”

Alex watches in something akin to disbelief when you begin to clean her injury with a delicacy that she hadn’t seen from you in, well, ever.

Your touch sent a jolt from her leg through her entire body, a warmth spreading throughout her from a delicate brush of your fingertips.

Moments after you finished dressing her wound, you glance up at her.

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less.”

You move to your feet, sending the woman a glare before you head back on field.

“Don’t use your leg as an excuse for the shite way you’re playing, you know it’s just because I’m better than you.” You smirk cockily.

Alex’s eyes narrow.

“Better my ass.”

***

The first person who finds out about you making the USWNT, well, besides yourself, is Alex Morgan, considering you actively sought her out, a cocky smirk on your face.

Alex sighs in annoyance.

“I know you made the fucking team, go away.”

You grin grabbing an apple from the table in front of you and take a bite, the apple crunching loudly.

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be actually. Isn’t this where the USWNT members sit?” You grin, earning an eye roll from the forward.

“Yes, but your seat is over there.” She nods towards the trash and you laugh, sucking a piece of apple down your windpipe, garnering no help from the woman beside you.

“Blimey, let one of the ONLY reasons you’ll be winning any and all major tournaments this year die, real dull mate.”

Alex growls.

“I’m not, ‘dull mate.’” She says, doing her best to mock you and your accent.

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my god, that was rank awful. That actually hurt to hear. My nan is rolling over in her grave right now.”

Alex blows a raspberry at you.

“Real mature love, real mature.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” She growls.

“I’m busy bothering you right now.”

Alex snarls, jumping to her feet and storming off.

“See you later teammate!” You yell, waving over exaggeratedly at her as she marches off.

***

Where your feelings for Alex, at least off the field, were based more off of annoying her until the point of insanity, your feelings for her on the field was a competitive hate, something Alex mirrored, but her hate for you off field?

Well, it was complete unbridled hate.

“Seriously, if you’re going to play like that, then stay off the field, England needs you more than we do.” Alex shakes her head and you smirk.

“You over shot it! Not me!” You shake your head in disbelief.

Alex lets out a mock laugh.

“Maybe you should’ve actually ran faster.”

You throw your head back with a groan.

“If I was in your position, we would’ve scored.”

Alex stomps her foot, the look in her eyes something you’d seen before, but never to this extent.

“You’re not made for the USWNT and you’re NOT made for soccer at a national level, you sucked in college, and you still fucking suck now.”

The field goes silent, everyone turning to look at Alex, their eyes wide.

Meanwhile, Alex’s blue orbs are locked on your face, a face that holds literally no hints of the cockiness it TYPICALLY holds, instead, it holds what she reads, as a hint of sadness.

You clear your throat, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you nod.

“Th-Thanks.”

Alex reaches out to you as you turn your back on her, the woman frowning as you make your way towards the bench, grabbing your things hastily before you head towards the bus.

Alex’s head hangs in shame, the looks of her teammates burning holes in her back.

“Alex-” Megan starts, only to be cut off by the forward moments later.

“I KNOW! OKAY!?” She yells, sending the rest of the USNWT a look.

Her shoulders hunch.

“I know.”

***

The second she steps on the bus you turn away, unwilling to look at the woman as she walks past, though, unfortunately for you, she doesn’t walk past, she instead sits right beside you.

“Are you lost?” You ask, voice rough.

Alex shakes her head.

“No, I’m not.”

You move to your feet.

“Well, if you’re not lost, then I’ll get lost.” You say, frowning when Alex doesn’t move so you can get out of your seat.

“Move Morgan.” You growl angrily.

She shakes her head.

“No can do, Y/L/N.” She shrugs and you growl, about to climb over the seat, but the look on Alex’s face stops you, causing you to flop back down into your seat in annoyance.

“Why are you holding me against my will Morgan?” You huff.

She sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry, I took it too far.”

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowing as you lean back, away from the woman.

“There’s no WAY that you’re Alex Morgan, she never apologizes, especially not to ME.” You bark out a laugh and she shakes her head.

“As much as it PAINS me to do so, I shouldn’t have said what I said on field, you do deserve to be on the team, and you don’t suck... That much.” She shrugs, and you can’t help but smile.

You begin chuckling, the woman looking at you in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Yeah, you still suck.”

Alex growls.

“Fuck you Y/N.”

You grin.

“Right back at you love, right back at you.”

***

The lineup for the first match against Portugal was rather surprising, you weren’t expecting to start, not when players like Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press were on the team, but you were named to the starting lineup.

You wouldn’t show your surprise to the team, but you’d been sure to ask Vlatko multiple times if the lineup was correct, and he of course, told you repeatedly it was.

You did your best to not look nervous when standing in the tunnel, a number of Portugal’s players were glancing your way worriedly, everyone knew who you were, and everyone knew what you could do.

The crowd cheered as the USWNT and Portugal made their way onto the field, everyone excited to see the new editions to the USWNT and what they had to offer.

You completely blank out the National Anthem, standing stock still your eyes darting around the sold-out crowd.

It isn’t until you’re taking your place on field that you snap back out of it, your eyes unconsciously darting to the woman with a big 13 on her back.

You smirk.

“Show time.”

***

You can feel it, the moment you’re about to make your first goal with the USWNT, your entire body shaking with excitement.

Alex can’t help but smile when you expertly slip the ball passed the Portugal player who’s on you and fire it in on goal, the ball with a bit of a spin on it.

You still, the ball looking like an overshot, but thanks to the spin on it, gravity pulls it downwards, passed the goalkeeper’s fingertips and into the back of the net.

You throw a fist in the air with a massive grin, a grin Alex mirrors when she walks over to you, patting your back, her reaction tame considering Tobin was currently hanging off your back, along with Kelley and Emily.

Alex shrugs.

“Lucky shot.”

You snort.

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Alex snorts even louder.

“I mean, I DID assist.”

You roll your eyes.

“Didn’t need your assistance.” You smirk, the forward’s eyes narrowing as she sends you a glare, receiving only a wink in return.

Alex growls.

“Still so infuriating.”

***

By the end of the first half the score is 2-0, and by the end of the game, it’s 4-0, one of those goals being yours, and another belonging to Alex Morgan.

It’s when you’re heading to the bus that you turn to Alex with a smirk.

“Had to copy me, huh Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“Copy? You got a goal before me, big deal.”

Tobin shakes her head as she takes a seat beside Christen on the bus.

“Do they argue about everything?” She asks and Christen giggles, watching as you and Alex bicker, though instead of sitting far away from one another, Alex sits right behind you.

“I mean, I guess that’s how they say they’re into each other.”

An incredibly loud laugh makes Christen jump, the woman turning to her bus buddy who is looking at her in shock.

“They literally want each other dead.”

Christen rolls her eyes.

“No, they don’t, they like each other.”

Ali turns around in her seat towards Christen and Tobin.

“I mean, it’s obvious.”

Ashlyn scoffs.

“Obvious that Y/N would poison Alex’s food if she could.”

Kelley, who comes in from out of nowhere snorts.

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve hated each other since college, Jan talks about it all the time.”

Christen and Ali share a glance, the two shaking their heads.

“They’re totally into each other.”

“Oh, I know.”

***

“Wait, there HAS to be a mistake...” You say as Vlatko turns to you, Alex’s eyes wide and filled with absolute horror.

“No, the two of you are rooming together. It seems.” He shrugs, knowing full well that it was he who decided the two of you would room together, and it wouldn’t be a onetime deal either.

The two of you glance at one another, eyes narrowed.

“I get the shower first.” Alex mumbles and you smirk, swiping the key from Vlatko before sprinting to the elevators.

“The FUCK you do!” You yell, Alex sprinting after you.

“Y/N YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Everyone watches as Alex chases after you, their eyes wide.

Tobin turns towards Christen.

“You call THAT being into each other?”

Christen turns towards Ali, the two yet again, shaking their heads.

“Oblivious.”

***

“DON’T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!” Alex yells, smacking the bathroom door and you growl.

The door swings open moments later and you walk out, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers.

“Morgan, we’re in a hotel, that’s impossible.”

Alex watches as you head to your suitcase, riffling through its contents.

She can’t help but stare, the wide expanse of flesh and muscle usually hidden beneath your uniform now on display for her to see.

You turn around, holding a wad of clothes, your brows furrowed.

Alex jumps when you reach out, poking her in the forehead with your index finger.

“Hey!” She growls, slapping at your hand.

“I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”

Alex’s eyes rake down your front, stopping on your very prominent abdominal muscles.

You turn away and step in the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind you.

Alex stands there for a moment before she glances around.

“Yeah.”

***

Alex had TRIED to tell herself that she was in NO way ogling you like a horny frat boy, but when you walked out wearing basically the same thing to sleep in, she knew she was, for a fact, ogling you like a horny frat boy.

She’d made a quick retreat to the bathroom moments after, but she couldn’t avoid you forever.

You meanwhile were completely sprawled out in bed, Nintendo Switch in hand. You briefly wondered if Alex had drowned, but when the bathroom door swung open you sighed.

“I thought you might’ve drowned, I was going to see if you wanted to smash.”

Alex stops mid-stride, dropping her clothes on the floor.

“WHAT!?”

Your brows furrow as you hold your Nintendo Switch up.

“Smash...?”

Alex clears her throat, her cheeks blood red.

“O-O-Oh...”

You snort.

“Christ Morgan.” You shake your head and she rolls her eyes, stomping to her bed.

“What?”

You shrug.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, at least now I know you want in my trousers.” You smirk and she snarls, a pillow flying from her bed and smacking you right in the face.

“Fuck you.”

“SEE!” You grin, throwing the pillow back on her bed.

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

You shake your head.

“Get over here and we’ll smash.” You hold a controller out to her and her eyes narrow.

“Sure, you’re okay with losing?” She asks cockily and you grin.

“Are you?”

Alex scoffs.

“I’d never lose to you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

***

“Why do you look so tired?” Kelley asks Alex the following day and the forward yawns.

“Y/N and I were Smashing.”

Kelley’s brown orbs widen, as do Alex’s the forward punching her friend in the arm.

“Super Smash Brothers you bitch.”

Kelley hums.

“I mean I could see you and Y/N hate fucking each other.” She shrugs and Alex’s cheeks flush bright red.

Alex punches Kelley in the shoulder, the defender groaning.

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

Alex turns her attention towards her breakfast and away from the pouting defender beside her.

Though you were absolutely irritating and Alex thought about killing you a total of 48 times last night, she enjoyed spending time with you.

You yawn as you make your way towards the table, sitting across from Alex.

“You have to get used to losing if we keep smashing every night.”

Suddenly a plate falls to the table, hard, the sound making everyone jump.

Tobin is standing beside you, her eyes wide, Ashlyn meanwhile is smirking as she sits down beside you.

“Who’s smashing?” Megan asks and you roll your eyes.

“Smash Bros.” You shake your head and Megan rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Boring, there’s only one Smash that’s actually interesting.”

Tobin gasps dramatically, her hand on her heart.

“I beg to DIFFER.”

You shake your head, watching with amusement as the two bicker, leading to Ashlyn chiming in.

You glance at Alex.

“You just HAD to tell everyone we Smashed.”

Alex rolls her eyes.

“Of course, I did, because I won.”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you sip your orange juice.

“Like one time, Morgan.”

Alex growls.

“WELL, WE’LL SMASH AGAIN TONIGHT!” She yells, every single one of her teammates turning her way.

Alex clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Are we talking about the SAME Smashing?” You smirk and Alex sends you a glare.

“SHUT UP.”

***

Alex rubs her temples angrily.

Playing in the rain had always been a hassle, but playing in the rain against SWEDEN was a nightmare.

Sweden was the USWNT’s rival and the fact that the USWNT were currently down by 2 of COURSE, didn’t sit well with Alex Morgan.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half and Alex sighs in relief, she needed a break, not only for her tired legs, but to quell the irritation inside of her.

Someone bumps into her and she snarls.

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going.” She turns towards, who she now realizes is you, you who looks as equally pissed as she does.

“Listen Morgan, I’m seriously not in the fucking mood, I’m just as mad as you are, so don’t start your shit with me.” You snap, your USWNT teammates stopping to stare at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Fuck you.” She snarls turning to walk away and you sneer.

“Yeah? We’ll fuck you too!” You yell before you follow after her and into the locker room.

“Why are you following me!?” She yells and you scoff.

“WE SHARE A LOCKER ROOM.” You deadpan, flopping down on the nearby bench.

“Well, you can still sit away from me.” Alex gripes and you shake your head.

“I’m not moving Morgan.”

Alex, being purposely annoying sits down behind you, rather closely in fact.

“Well, I’m not either.” She mumbles and you snort.

“Mature Morgan, REALLLL mature.”

***

By the time the game ended the USWNT had a comeback, winning the game 3-2, much to Alex’s elation, as well as your own.

That elation didn’t erase the fact that the two of you had argued during the match, the two of you cold, wet and incredibly angry.

Alex is pulled out of her trance when the bathroom’s door in your and her hotel room swings open, a rush of steam flowing out as you leave the room.

Alex glances away from you, not only because you’re, yet again, barely dressed, but also because she’s ashamed of her behavior earlier that day.

You flop onto your bed without even looking at her, choosing to fall face down against its plush surface.

You remain silent, the air within the room incredibly heavy.

The silence is broken by Alex’s soft whisper.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”

You remain silent as you roll over, your hand slipping into your suitcase.

You search blindly until you find what you’re looking for, holding the Nintendo Switch out to Alex.

“Smash?” You ask and Alex smiles.

“Smash.”

Alex flops on the bed beside you, taking the controller she’d used a few nights prior.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m sorry too.”

Alex’s brows arch, the woman unable to bite back a smile, something that makes you send her a glare.

“Enough of this shite, ready to lose Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“I should be asking you that.”

***

You grimace as the body beside you shifts, a pair of arms wrapping tightly around you from behind.

“I’m not the little spoon.” You growl, attempting to wiggle free from the hold you’re in.

“Get over it.”

Your eyes flash open, as do Alex’s the two of you abruptly sitting up when you realize you’d in fact fallen asleep together the night before.

You turn to face her, the two of you looking at one another in absolute horror.

“I was just-

Alex leaps out of bed, the woman making a beeline towards the bathroom the two of you share.

You nod, your cheeks flushed.

“Ye-Yeah.”

You clear your throat, turning away from the bathroom to instead look at the alarm clock beside you.

3:13 AM

You grumble, annoyed at the fact that you’d woken up so early.

If you were honest with yourself, you were also annoyed that Alex wasn’t currently beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood for honesty at the moment.

You flop backwards, rolling towards the center of the bed where it just so happens Alex had been laying moments later, the smell of the woman’s perfume left behind on the sheets.

You attempt to resist temptation, but find yourself failing when you bury your nose into the sweet-smelling fabric, the smell clouding your senses.

The bathroom door creaks open sometime after, the sweet-smelling fabric lulling you to the cusp of sleep, as you fight your eyelids you watch as Alex tiptoes to her bed, the woman glancing over her shoulder at your ‘sleeping’ form with a smile before she makes her way to her own bed.

She falls down onto the cold sheets with a frown, thoughts of what the following day would bring running through her head.

***

Much to everyone’s surprise at practice the following day, neither you nor Alex had been at one another’s throats, in fact, you’d been ignoring each other as if the other had contracted the Black Death.

Even when you slip a ball passed Alex and into goal, you don’t gloat, instead choosing to just jog away as if you hadn’t scored.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Kelley asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares inquisitively at Alex.

“What?” Alex asks dumbly.

Kelley scoffs.

“THAT, Y/N didn’t even gloat! She didn’t rub in your face that she scored passed you!” Kelley points at you and Alex shrugs.

“Beats me.”

Kelley’s eyes narrow even further as Alex walks away, the defender’s eyes burning holes in her back.

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT’S GOING ON JAN!” She yells across field, drawing the attention of each and every one of her teammates, including you.

You clear your throat, your cheeks flushing when you realize Alex’s blue orbs are on you.

The two of you abruptly turn away from one another, thoughts of the events that transpired that morning running through your heads.

You clear your throat as you rub the back of your neck, your cheeks flushing further when you think about Alex’s arms around you, and how much you’d liked it.

***

That night was even worse considering the two of you were still rooming together.

Alex refused to look in your direction and you refused to look in hers, making the situation even more awkward.

“Look.” Alex started, causing you to turn her way, when your eyes locked, she fell silent.

“This was easier when you weren’t looking at me.”

Your eyes widen momentarily before you turn away.

“Alright Morgan, go ahead.”

Alex huffs.

“I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to, ummm...”

You chance a glance her way, smirking when you see how flushed her cheeks are.

“What?” Alex asks when she sees the smirk on your face and you shrug.

“Nothing.”

You fish your Nintendo Switch out of your bag and nod towards your bed.

“Let’s go Morgan, or are you too shy to Smash now?” You ask, a brow arched and Alex scoffs.

“Not a chance.”

***

It’s an hour into playing that it happens, though neither you, or Alex realized it was happening until your shoulders brush.

You both stiffen, your eyes widening, though neither of you dare look at the other.

Something else neither of you do though is scoot away from one another, your shoulders still brushing.

You clear your throat, your body untensing as you settle back against the pillow behind you, the feel of Alex’s blue orbs boring into you making goosebumps sprout on your flesh.

“Come on Morgan, head in the game.”

You miss the tiny smile that adorns Alex’s face as she focuses on the screen before you, though what you don’t miss is the brush of her leg against yours.

The inevitable of course happens when you feel Alex’s head rest on your shoulder, the woman fighting her fluttering eyelids.

You glance at the nearly unconscious woman on your shoulder and snort.

“Lay down Morgan.” You smile, the forward grumbling.

“But I don’t want to get up...”

You roll your eyes, taking her controller and laying your Switch on the table between your beds.

You wiggle until your head hits the pillow behind you, which results in Alex’s head falling onto your chest, the forward’s eyes widening.

You remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move, when she cuddles into your side, your cheeks flush, that flush spreading to the tips of your ears.

“Is this, okay?” Alex asks in a hushed whisper and you smile.

“It is.”

***

The two of you sharing a bed becomes a regular thing, so much so that Alex’s bed remains untouched 95% of the time, usually housing your luggage instead of Alex like it should be.

The rivalry you had on the field soon disappeared, something that came as a shock to literally everyone, even Vlatko.

You knew what you felt for Alex wasn’t friendship, it went well beyond that, your hatred for her turned into something you never ever expect, and that was love.

You loved Alex Morgan and there was no going back.

***

You were pissed, absolutely pissed, and how could you not be when no fouls were being called against Canada?

Fouls that were currently being directed at #13, Alex Morgan.

You snarl when yet again, Alex is taken down in the box, but YET AGAIN, the foul isn’t called.

“COME ON!” You yell, stomping towards the downed forward whose hand you take before you pull her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly as you scan the forward who nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles and you nod.

“She better call the fouls or I swear-

The whistle blows and you growl.

“Nothing but a right bitch that one.” You mumble before jogging away, missing the snort that Alex lets out, the forward shaking her head.

Her cheeks flush from more than exertion when she realizes your anger that’s directed at the ref is because the fouls have been directed solely on her, considering she was the only one being fouled.

And that was about to happen yet again, but this time, Alex wasn’t going to get up.

***

The look on your face was one of pure horror when Alex went down with a cry, the Canadian player’s cleats digging into her skin, soaking her socked ankle with blood.

The whistle blows loudly, the ref finally carding the player who’d fouled Alex with a red card, but that wasn’t good enough for you, not when Alex was currently bleeding.

Alex watches from her place on the ground as you advance on the player in red, landing a right hook that would make any boxer jealous, the woman falling to the ground with a thud.

Time literally stands still, your knuckles throbbing in pain as the player cups her cheek, her eyes wide as she stares up at you in shock.

“OFF THE FIELD! NOW!” The ref yells, the woman producing a red card immediately and holding it high above her head.

“Bugger off, wanker.” You mumble as you make your way towards Alex, who’s currently surrounded by the medical team.

“What the hell did you do that for!?” She growls at you and you frown.

“I-

You glance around, watching as the Canadian player, you were so angry you didn’t know her name, is aided off field, the woman still clasping her cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue.

Deep down, you knew why your reaction had been so visceral, but you couldn’t tell Alex that could you?

So instead, you decided to do the only thing you could do, and that was turn on your heels and sprint towards the nearest exit.

***

Alex frowns as you sprint towards the exit, leaving her and the team behind.

The medical team hoists her to her feet, the woman limping off field, the fans clapping in respect for the USWNT player as the final whistle blows.

The second Alex gets off field though she pulls away from the medical team, choosing instead to limp after you, the forward hoping she wasn’t too late and was able to catch you.

Alex limped down the tunnel and rushed towards the nearest exit, hoping it was the exit you’d went through in your haste to put distance between the two of you.

She rounds the corner, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees you marching down the sidewalk, away from her.

“Y/N!” She yells, causing you to stop in your tracks.

The dark clouds overhead that had been teasing rain all day had finally opened the proverbial floodgates, the soft sprinkles becoming somewhat of a downpour in literal moments.

Slowly, you turn around to face the forward who’s advancing on you, the woman limping as quickly as she can, closing the distance between the two of you.

You swallow hard, unable to look the woman in the eye as she tries catching your gaze,

“Y/N?! What was that!?” She yells, pointing back at the field and you shake your head.

“What was that!?” She yells again and you swallow hard.

“She was on your ass the entire game Al, and no one was calling the fouls! I had to do something!” You yell over the heavily pouring rain, the nickname slipping unknowingly off your tongue.

“That’s not your job, Y/N.” She frowns and you scoff.

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her hurt you? Watch her make you bleed!?” You cry, the feel of frustrated tears welling up in your eyes.

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“Because I love you!”

Alex stiffens, as do you, your eyes widening in horror when you realize what you’d just said.

Your mouth opens and closes, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue as you take a step back from the injured USWNT forward.

Alex reaches out for you, her fingertips brushing the back of your hand.

“Y/N...” She whispers, taking a step towards you.

You’re about to take a step back when she grabs your wrist, effectively holding you in place, you weren’t about to jerk away, fearful that you may hurt her.

You swallow hard when she steps even closer, the distance between you closing as her chest brushes your own.

“Say it again.”

You shake your head as you turn away, though when Alex’s fingers intertwine with yours, you turn back towards her, the woman’s blue orbs focused on your hand in hers.

“Say it again...”

You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat.

“Alex-

“Please Y/N.” She whispers as she tucks a strand of hair, that had been stuck to your face, behind your ear.

You blink rapidly, Alex’s fingers tracing your jawline before she cups your cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find your voice.

“I-I...” You stammer, your eyes shutting as you swallow.

“I love you, Alex, and I think I always have I just-

You stiffen, your eyes wide and hands hovering in the air as Alex’s lips meet yours in a tentative, first kiss.

Just as your eyes flutter shut the team rounds the corner, their eyes widening before they turn Christen and Ali, the two smirking as they bump their shoulders together.

“We told you.”

Meanwhile your hands find purchase on Alex’s waist, the woman pulling back only to lean right back in, the brush of her lips sending a jolt throughout your entire body.

A crack of lightning makes the two of you jump, though neither of you pull back, your lips brushing as the two of you smile, toothy grins on full display.

Alex’s forehead rests against yours, her hair stuck to her face thanks to the water entirely soaking the two of you.

The reasonable members of the team usher the chaotics back into the arena, leaving you and Alex alone, the two of you so wrapped up in one another you hadn’t noticed them anyway.

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your Y/E/C orbs focused intently on Alex’s.

“When did you know?” Alex asks, her voice pulling you out of your trance, your cheeks flushing.

“Know what?” You ask dumbly, earning a look that says Alex knows you’re just playing dumb.

You sigh.

“The first time you yelled at me during a match in college.”

Alex’s brows arch.

“It was cute.”

Alex scoffs.

“It wasn’t meant to be cute.”

You shrug.

“Well, it was to me, and I was right smitten.”

Alex’s lips split into a massive grin, the woman leaning in to bump her nose playfully against yours.

“Your nose crinkles up when you’re angry.” She giggles and you bite your bottom lip, your cheeks dusted pink.

Alex tilts her head back, kissing the tip of your nose, your lips splitting into a grin.

“I guess we better get back in there...” Alex sighs and you huff.

“I guess so.”

Alex reluctantly takes a step back before she turns around, the two of you walking back to the door that led back into the arena.

Before Alex can make her way through the tunnel, you grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug until she’s back in your arms again, your nose brushing hers.

“I never ACTUALLY hated you.” You whisper softly, giving her wrist a squeeze.

Alex smiles, the forward closing the distance between you with a feather light kiss, her lips feeling as if they barely brush your own.

“And I never ACTUALLY hated you either.”

You cup Alex’s cheek, the woman’s blue orbs disappearing behind her fluttering eyelids as she leans into your touch.

It’s in that moment when you spot them out of the corner of your eye, a snort sounding in the back of your throat as you watch your teammates scramble to make themselves scarce.

Alex follows your gaze, the woman rolling her eyes in annoyance when she spots your nosy teammates.

“Idiots.”

You wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling the woman close, your chin resting on her shoulder.

“So, you yell at them, and I watch? I bet it’s even cuter when you’re yelling at someone else.” You grin, grunting when Alex elbows you in the stomach.

“It’s not cute when I’m angry.” She pouts and you grin, shrugging.

“Actually, it’s adorable.”

Alex growls, a furrow forming between her brows as she tries, and fails to scowl at you.

“Still so infuriating.” She grumbles, the woman about to turn away, but before she can you catch her lips, unable to bite back a smile as the two of you kiss.

“I’m so infuriating, but you still smitten, aren’t you love?” You ask and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.

She gives your shoulder a playful slap and you snicker.

Looking into the pools of blue that are Alex Morgan’s eyes, you knew coming to the US was the best decision you’d ever made.

You lean in, tilting your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.

“What do you say we go kill our nosy teammates now?” You ask with a grin and Alex takes your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“Lead the way.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Note

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

Text

Family Vacation

Bokuto x reader x Akaashi

Author’s Note : no incest, I promise ; the request included some slight BokuAka interaction, however I made it more than slightly ; the hot springs resort is loosely based on three different locations under the Kinosaki Onsen in northern Hyogo [Mikuniya Ryokan, Yutouya Ryokan, Nishimuraya Ryokan]. Each one offers different things, but they all have some common aspects that I liked: seafood served during winter months [November - March], traditional ryokan, and options for the hot springs [indoor, outdoor, and family] ; holy fuck is this wrong.. but holy hell is it erotic

Warnings: introduction of the Bokuto family, best friends to lovers au, playful teasing [about reader’s virginity], some mlm [Bokuto x Akaashi] interaction, fingering, face-sitting, handjob, blowjob, cum eating, spit exchanges and mentions, no penetrative sex, virgin!reader, virgin!Bokuto

“Oh, [Y/N]! I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Thank you for having me, Bokuto-san,”

“Oh, dear, call me Fuyumi! You’re practically family, anyways,” she smiles, eyes crinkling as she does. Her smile makes you smile, bowing in respect as if you haven’t known her for years.

The Bokuto family always spent their winter vacation before New Years at an Onsen in Hyogo. Yasurai-fukurou was well known for their hot springs throughout the year, but their meals included seafood in the winter. Kōtarō and Shinjiro both love seafood, especially crab, so it made sense the Bokuto family would come to this place specifically. Winter meant snow, and snow meant the garden view from the spring was gorgeous, having the silver lining the green foliage as the pebbles along the ground glistened with melted snow, cold and slippery. It was Kōtarō’s and Machiko’s favorite season, so it was an added bonus. The family had the money to spend, treating the members to a relaxing trip. Even Keiji, Kōtarō’s friend, joined them his first year at Fukurodani.

You didn’t usually attend, yet you always wanted to. Your family celebrated holidays differently, so you often found yourself swamped with family activities around December, only getting free to hang out by the time school started back up. Always wishing to go, you finally got your wish this year. With the stress from school this past semester, your family decided to let you choose what to do, so you declined spending the holidays with your family. Instead, you were free to spend that quality time with the Bokuto family. Fuyumi practically begged Kōtarō to invite you, knowing you’d be alone, so you didn’t have to worry about inviting yourself. There was one problem, however.

“[Y/N] should room with us!” Machiko points out. “She can’t board with boys!”

“What do you take us for? We’re her best friends,” Kōtarō waves off his sister. “I worry Amaya might try to wrestle her,”

“She could use the practice!” She pipes up, only to be shut back down. “I wouldn’t hurt her,”

“Why not let the girl choose herself? It is where she will stay, in the end,” Shinjiro said. Although he was right, you suddenly felt your heart tugging in two different directions. Machiko and Kōtarō gave you the puppy dog eyes, begging to choose them. A heavy sigh came from you as you weigh the options presented in front of you.

“I trust Keiji and Kōtarō, I’ll room with them,”

“No!” The two girls dramatically shout, falling to their knees. Fuyumi laughs, patting your back.

“Good choice, dear,” she compliments. You know why. Her daughters may be considered mature and adults, but they are both hectic and chaotic in their own way. At least with Kōtarō, he has Keiji with him. There’s no reason to mull over the decision, you know full well that Keiji and Kōtarō wouldn’t hurt you.

Once settled into each room, your bedding laid between the two of them, the trip to relax in the ryokan was in order. The two genders were separated, of course, so you sat in the spring with Machiko, Amaya, and Fuyumi. It wasn’t a bad thing, being with the three, but you knew Machiko and Amaya like to tease you.

“Gosh, [Y/N], you’re so innocent! You’ve never done anything?” Amaya’s face made it seem like she was much more malicious than on the surface. “Even I had a couple boyfriends that I had special adventures with before your age,”

“Excuse me? Amaya!” Fuyumi scolds her daughter. “You never told us this,”

“Why would I? You and dad never allowed me to have a boyfriend until I graduated. Kōtarō even had a girlfriend in his second year,” she pouts, puffy cheeks making her less malicious and much more adorable. Though unintentional, her words make your mood sour, Kōtarō’s slipping from her lips. Machiko notices this, however.

“Well, Kōtarō is a boy and I told your father to make sure he doesn’t do any of that dating stuff, but it seems like he did,”

“You know, I’m kind of tired. I’m really relaxed,” you mention, moving to exit the water. “I should lay down and take a nap,”

“Oh, are you sure? Dinner will be served soon,” Machiko holds out her hand, as if to stop you. You’re quick about getting out, rinsing yourself off before wrapping a robe around your naked body.

“I’m sure. Wake me when dinner’s ready,” you cheerfully smile, waving to them as you leave the setting. Your smile falls, an artificial thing as you continue to pad towards the room. Passing the window leading to the garden, you notice the cascading of the white snowflakes, shimmering in the light from the outdoor lamps. It’s peaceful, the way it floats down to the ground until it rapidly melts, joining the slush forming on the pathway. A sigh leaves you, heart aching from the words Amaya let spill.

It wasn’t her fault, you tell yourself that as you continue to the room. Amaya doesn’t know, but Machiko does. Machiko has always had the older sister intuition, knowing when her younger siblings had something to hide or something embarrassing. Whether it was from her years of travel around the world, or just a trait of hers, she could pinpoint things that made you want to crawl in a hole. What does Machiko know, exactly? Your big, fat crush on her little brother.

Kōtarō has been your crush as long as you’ve known him, aka since you guys were waddling around with chubby legs. Your family and his family live near each other, so it made sense for you two to play a lot as children. As the years passed, your admiration for him evolved into a crushing thing, yet your young mind wouldn’t allow such a horrid thing to be spoken. No, it festered until you broke down one day in high school and confessed to the dark of the night, the only witness of your confession was the moon. You confessed that you loved him, you were in love with him, nobody else could compare. It hurt even more now, knowing you were falling in love with him while he was loving someone else. Even Keiji probably loved Kōtarō, knowing how close they were. You wouldn’t put it past them to be in a relationship, either. Each thought accompanied a step you took, each one bringing tears to prickle your eyes as you finally shut the door to the room, and your problems.

With the dark encompassing the room, you found yourself easily situating yourself on the ground to cry, curling up in a ball as you did so. A pathetic scene, you knew it was, yet you couldn’t help yourself.

After you left the ryokan, Shinjiro happened to be talking to the boys in front of him, both of them flushed red from the warmth of the bath and the topic at hand.

“I knew something was off in the way your mother encouraged you to invite her! I never thought it’d be that, however,” his guffaw had Kōtarō sinking into the water, bubbles coming from his nose as he huffs. Keiji looks at him pitifully, but doesn’t do much of anything else.

“She doesn’t even like me like that. This trip was a mistake,” Kōtarō mumbles, his mouth going back under the water. Keiji sighs, looking into the water where his distorted hands lie. Before he can speak, Kōtarō beats him to it. “I have to go to the bathroom. I think I’ll leave early,”

“You sure it’s just that?” Shinjiro teases. “Or are you going to wait for your lovely friend?”

“Okay, maybe it’s a bit of both,” he huffs, cheeks puffed out. Keiji lets the words die on his tongue, letting Kōtarō leave the spring without any reason to look back.

Shinjiro sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks into the water. “Maybe I went too far. I shouldn’t tease him about his crush, it seems like it’s important to him. I don’t think she sees him in that light, anyways,”

“She does, actually. I think she’s been in love with him for a while,” he confesses. Shinjiro’s eyebrows rise as the words sink in. However, he is quick to understand. No longer laughing and joking, his smile is more bitter and sad. A pity smile.

“And you’ve been in love with her, haven’t you?”

Keiji turns his head to the side, yet he nods. The red dusting his cheeks is no longer just the warmth of the water. Shinjiro moves closer to Keiji, putting his hand on the younger man’s back.

“Then tell her. You both need to confess, not let this fester and turn into something ugly. Don’t let this ruin your friendship with Kōtarō, either. It’s not worth it,”

“I know. I know, Bokuto-san,”

“When you gonna call me Shinjiro? Or even dad? You need to let loose, Keiji!” He laughs again, getting Keiji to crack a smile.

While Keiji ponders how he should go about this, Kōtarō trudges up to his room for the week, unaware you’ve also turned in early. His mood has taken a turn for the worse, hair deflating as he pouts. No matter what, he’s always found himself finding your validation to be the most important. Throughout the years, he’s reached out to both you and Keiji for validation, finding them both to be important to him. While he knows Keiji partially does it just to make him happy, which he is thankful for, he knows yours is genuine. Even when he forced himself to move on, knowing you didn’t see him in that light, he found it hard. You followed him into his dreams, gleeful chimes of your laughter as the future he aims for bloomed into an obtainable goal. Yet, he’d wake up to see the empty space beside him, a brutal reminder that his dreamt future would stay in his head, playing on loop until he could do something about it in the real world.

When his door comes into view, he sighs, relief flooding through him. As he gets closer, he hears a soft voice from inside. Leaning his ear against the shut door, he hears you — a squeak of his name, accompanying a soft mewl, most likely held back due to the thin walls. Even he understands what you’re doing, it’s not like he’s never thought of you that way, finding himself wishing you could relieve his stress in the best way possible. As to respect your privacy, and settle his nerves, he quietly creeps away, to his parent’s booked room. He decides to use the toilet in there, giving you a few moments to finish your own business.

Leaning against the door once more, he doesn’t hear your heavy breaths or your moans and mewls, so he slides open the door to see you under the covers, laptop shining in your face as a movie plays. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Huh?” You jump, turning to see Kōtarō’s large frame at the entrance of the room. It’s scary, the way he seems to have popped up after you finished, or attempted, getting off on thinking of him. “Oh, Kō. It’s just you. No more hot springs for you?”

“Oh, no, I found it to be getting too hot,” he lies, rubbing his neck. The robe you’re wearing is the one you put on after exiting the spring, so his perverted little mind knows you’re completely naked underneath. Not only that, you’re probably nice and slick from thinking about him—

He stops himself, hearing your voice. “Did you hear me? I asked if you wanted to watch the movie with me,”

“Oh, sorry, off in my own world. Uh, sure, what is it?”

“Crown for Christmas. A sappy romance Christmas movie, from America. It’s very predictable, but it’s cute. My mom loves it, so I brought it to watch,”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” he hums, lying on his own bedding. He didn’t move closer to you, giving you some space, but he finds himself panicking when you move closer.

“Can’t see if you’re all the way over there, dummy,” you giggle, pressing play. He can’t find it in himself to focus, the movie being background noise to his thoughts. The hot springs help to add a special glow to your skin, making it seem smoother than before, and you smell so nice, not to mention he can feel his cock throbbing at your soft voice calling out his name. What would it be like if he used his own fingers, would you be able to hold back? Or would you come completely undone as you came on his fingers— even better, his cock? Just the thought has him groaning, head shoved into his pillow as you pause the movie, probably confused.

He looks up, seeing your dazed expression — yep, totally confused. He sighs and shrugs, apologizing. “Are you okay? You seem.. tense,”

“Tense?” That’s one way to describe it, he supposes. “I’m just.. dad was teasing me earlier. That’s why I left. I’m.. remembering what he said,”

“Oh, I get that. Amaya kept teasing me about girl stuff, so I left. Machiko tried to stop me, but I was already out of the water,” you admit. It’s not the full truth, but that’s okay.

“Girl stuff? Like what?” Kōtarō never shied from girly stuff, including the weird stuff that happened to girls like puberty and the menstrual cycle. You chalked it up to his older sisters being shameless, never making it seem gross. Even when you started your period in class, Kōtarō was there to help you, a knight in shining armor.

You wish they were less shameless.

“Oh, um, you know, the romantic stuff,”

“Like? Boyfriends?”

“Yeah, I’ve.. never had one. No experience on my end. Amaya was teasing me because she had a couple of boyfriends before my age, so it.. it didn’t hurt my feelings, but it made me feel some kind of way, you know?” Your attempted explanation was kind of butchered, trying to explain it without giving too much detail. Kōtarō wouldn’t judge you, of course not, it wasn’t something to judge you about.

He knows the feeling, being inexperienced.

“W-Well, if you want any experience before going into the dating scene, I could.. always help you,” he whispers. His words hang in the air, settling into both of your minds. He’s berating himself for using such a lame line to try and get in your pants, but you’re trying to find a way to say yes without seeming desperate. However, “I mean! I have experience, so I could help you! I’d say I’m pretty good at doing stuff. Oh! It could be like.. any advice or something.. hands on,” he whispers the last part again, his confidence melting like snow on a summer’s day when your face falls.

It isn’t you don’t want it, you just would prefer him to not word it like that. It reminds you of Amaya’s words and the pain in your chest, the churn in your stomach. “If you’re gonna be like that, maybe I should ask Keiji,” you huff, turning your body away from his. Focusing on forcing your stomach to stop twisting in knots, you don’t even notice when Kōtarō closes the laptop and presses himself against you. Well, not until you feel something pressing into your back. “Kō—”

“Don’t be like that. I’ve never actually gone all the way, I’ve been saving that for someone special. I can help, though, if you’d let me,” his breath fans over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His arm snakes under you, pulling you into his stomach while he lays on his back.

“Kōtarō!”

“You’re stressed, gotta loosen up a bit. I’m helping,” he just says, making sure your legs are hooked over his. With the lack of clothing under the robe, your nether region is spread open towards the door, sending your adrenaline skyrocketing. Kōtarō is quick to ease that, his thick fingers spreading open your folds while his middle finger rubs against your sensitive clit. “You’re absolutely soaked, do I turn you on that much?” He’s grinning, you know he is. Gritting your teeth, you keep your mouth closed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers, now sliding up and down and collecting your slick.

Kōtarō doesn’t want to tease you for too long, slipping his middle finger into your cunt as you mewl, hand coming to cover your mouth. “What a reaction. I wonder..” he trails off, pulling his finger out, only to add in three fingers. You’re arching, legs tending against his as he fingers you, lips pressing themselves to your hair and ear. When his tongue flicks out against your ear, you squirm and he grunts, his left arm keeping you firm against him. “Sensitive, are you?”

He doesn’t get any vocal confirmation from you, but the way you’re clenching around his fingers tells him all he needs to know. He makes sure to keep his thumb bumping against your clit, adding pressure. You can feel the familiar feeling, the beginning of an orgasm as he pumps his fingers into you. With a squeal of his name, your nails dig into the meat of his arm, liquids spilling out of you and all over Kōtarō’s fingers. The squishing sound enters your ears, legs tensing as you mewl, his fingers rubbing themselves against you some more.

“You’re so wet.. I bet it’d be easy to slip my cock in there, wouldn’t it?” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest as your cunt clenches at the thought, your wildest fantasies so close to coming to fruition when someone clears their throat. You pop up, Kōtarō jolting and keeping you on his chest as he moves.

Keiji is looking at the both of you, a heavy blush adorning his cheeks. The room is dim, only the lights from outside the inn illuminating him. He’s right at the door, right in front of where Kōtarō was just fingering you. Kōtarō’s hand finally leaves from between your legs, glistening wetness shown in the lamplight. “If you want to give her experience, you need to go over everything involved in foreplay, Kōtarō. There’s more to prep,”

“M-More?” your voice is small, barely a whisper as you find more slick oozing from you, Keiji entering the room. He kneels down in front of you, still held against Kōtarō’s chest.

“Has he even kissed you, yet? Or did he go headfirst into fingering you?” When you shake your head, Kōtarō himself sucking in a breath, Keiji knows he was right. With the elegance he always exudes, Keiji tilts your chin up towards him. “Then, allow me,”

The kiss is gentle, yet not simple. His lips are firmly against yours, molding perfectly as he keeps your chin tilted. As he deepens the kiss, you find your hands grasping at his own robe, feeling yourself lighter than you were when you had entered the room. Keiji moves to pull away, a brisk kiss on your lips once more before swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, sending heat all over your body.

“Akaashi..” Kōtarō whines, his grip on you tightening. “This is supposed to be my time with her,”

“Well, you’re going too fast. Why not elongate the time spent together, hm?” His voice sends tingles down your spine, his hands removing you from Kōtarō’s grasp. “Lay back, Bokuto-san. You’ll get your turn,”

Your brain is going haywire as he speaks, undoing Kōtarō’s robe with unconscious grace. He’s not doing it on purpose, you know he isn’t, it’s just how he is. Once Kōtarō has been disrobed, you find more heat springing to your cheeks as his muscles ripple and flex. The lack of light prevents you from seeing everything, but you’ve always found yourself insatiable when thinking of his broad frame and what hides under his clothes.

“Give me your hand, [Y/N],” Keiji’s voice has you coming back down to earth, yet you find yourself once more shy with Kōtarō’s legs spread, his cock heavy and so large in Keiji’s hand. You comply, though, your much smaller hand joining Keiji’s around Kōtarō’s girth. It’s so much, the way it feels and the heat of the skin under your fingertips. A soft groan comes from Kōtarō as Keiji moves his hand, his other hand shuffling you between his legs.

“This is called a handjob, [Y/N],” Keiji says. You nod in understanding, realizing he’s teaching you. “Moving your hand up and down the shaft is the basic function of it, but you can also use your fingers to tease the slit, like so,” he demonstrates, swiping his thumb over the small slit, puffy and red where Kōtarō’s cum is dripping from. The simple act has Kōtarō throwing his head back, moaning as his hand covers his mouth. The walls are thin and if his family is back, they probably have a good idea of what’s going on.

“I see,” you hum, continuing to move your hand up and down the shaft. Keiji nods, seeing you’re understanding.

“Or tease his balls, like cupping them or massaging. Don’t squeeze them hard, though. It won’t feel very nice,” his hand moves to cup and tease Kōtarō’s balls, the man himself laying on his back as his face turns red, the ministrations getting to be too much. “There’s also a blowjob, but we can teach you that next time,”

“N-Next time??” You squeak, jumping a bit. Whether it was a one time thing or the beginning of a relationship didn’t cross your mind. His words, however, seem to please you more than imaginable.

“Of course, darling. We’re not done here, either. Why don’t you let Bokuto-san show you what other kinds of pleasure he can give you?” At Keiji’s words, Kōtarō pops up with a bright smile on his face.

“Sit on my face, baby,”

“Oh, woah, wow, uh..” you stop, unsure how to politely decline. His mouth and nose, down there? Not to mention your weight on his head? You were sure he’d regret his decision. “I don’t think”

“I’ll be fine. C’mon, I gotta show you what else my mouth can do besides dirty talk,” he winks, sending more heat to your cheeks, making you feel rather hot for a winter’s day, clad in only a robe. Keiji seems to read your mind, taking your robe from your shoulders, the belt falling undone easily from the previous activities. Once you’re down to your birthday suit, Keiji presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, a whisper to go that sends you crawling closer to Kōtarō’s face. He grins, eagerly taking your thigh and placing it on the other side, keeping your drenched cunt close to his face. He says something, but only a muffled noise comes out, his tongue swiping along your folds.

With your back to him, Keiji wishes he told you to face him and watch, yet he finds the scene of you erotic. He may have a bit more expertise than you and Kōtarō, it seems that’s all that’s needed. He smiles, gaze catching on the way Kōtarō’s fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, making indents. Completely forgotten, Keiji spits a glob onto Kōtarō’s cock, him jumping at the feeling. With a few more pumps of his hand, he flicks his tongue against the head.

Kōtarō’s moan has you mewling, the sound acting as a vibration as your fingers tug harshly on the silver and black strands. Though not as long as they were in high school, there’s enough to grasp and pull on. The wet sounds from behind you has your head turning, eyes falling on Keiji’s mouth wrapped around Kōtarō’s cock. It’s an erotic scene, his head moving up as more of the length is revealed, his blue eyes settling on your own as you feel a nip down below. So focused on Keiji, Kōtarō wants your attention all on him. Keiji chuckles, almost like a hum, that vibrates around the cock in his mouth that has Kōtarō moaning.

The tongue that flicks against your clit has you squirming, restrained mewls and moans leaving your lips as hands tug on his locks. Kōtarō licks and suckles on your clit occasionally, then moves down to prod and swipe over your entrance. The position makes it easy for him to breathe, but he moves down further. New position has you squealing, hands flying to your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the pleasure. Another moan from Kōtarō that sends shivers down your spine, heat to your core, accompanying the obscene noises of Keiji sucking Kōtarō off.

With Kōtarō’s nose bumping against your clit, his tongue’s only focus is on your pretty little cunt, sucking and swirling his tongue. The sensitivity from earlier makes quick work of you, hunching over as your thighs tighten around Kōtarō’s head, his strong hands keeping you from hurting him as you gush all over his face. A moan comes from him as he laps at your juices spilling over his face, his own orgasm coming as Keiji takes him down as far as he can. Globs of white cum spurt from the side of Keiji’s mouth, a gagging sound as he struggles to swallow it.

A hand on your shoulder has you leaning back, falling against Keiji’s chest with his cheeks puffy. Kōtarō manages to look up at the scene, gaze fuzzy as he watches Keiji kiss you once more, cum seeping from where his lips meet yours. When Keiji pulls away, his tongue is out, pushing the dripping cum into your mouth where the rest lies. It’s enough to have Kōtarō hard once more, a dark and heavy blush settling across his cheeks and nose.

The thick appendage pressing into your back once more has you gasping and jumping, some cum spilling out your mouth and down your chest. As it travels between the valley of your breasts and over the perk nipples, Keiji takes it upon himself to lap at the milky droplets. You gulp down the rest in your mouth, making a show of it by tilting your head up, throat contracting as you swallow it all. Kōtarō finds himself unable to look away from the scene.

“Ah, seems like someone’s still raring to go,” Keiji breaks the silence, eyes glancing back to look at Kōtarō’s cock, once more standing tall and proud. He then looks to you. “Shall I let you handle this one alone?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #Mr. Kōtarō #Mr. Keiji #BB.Kinky #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi smut #bokuto smut #BokuAka #bokuaka x reader #cw.cum play #cw.semi public sex #tw.semi public sex #cw.spit

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anonil88 · 3 years

Text

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

#Malcolm & Marie #malcolm and marie #zendaya coleman #zendaya #john david washington #liveblog #mine

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Note

Hi Goldy, JK was bold in the past, around 2017-2019 (to me, gcf & rosebowl can be considered as ‘coming out’). But it seems he now prefers to stay closeted? E.g. he snatched JM’s hand in the Xylitol x BTS shoot, then looked at the camera. Holding hands is normal among members… a lot of his interactions with Jin, V and other members are more intimate than holding hands… his reaction makes me feel like he wants me to pretend I didn’t know…?

Sorry I've been a bit AWOL lately...

I'm busy being the man of my woman's dreams in a cis het anti black capitalist world

Fun times.

I saw that bit, uWu-ed and kept it pushing.

It's nothing new really. I think a few months back when I was out here screaming Jikook are toning down, acting super professional around the cameras yadda yadda people out here were looking at me like I'd lost my two delulu heads- but this segues into that theme for me and since I've exhausted the topic I don't know what else to add.

I've said before they've both been very conscious of the cameras within certain periods post October- again nothing new, they be like that every now and then every season every phase and the whys will always be up for debate in these ship streets- on that subject, I've read a lot of opinions yet I think like mine better and will stick to it. Thanks Kimberly of Delulu precinct. Walk along now. Lol.

Jimin was like that during the Coway behind the scene shoot too when he noticed the cameras and quickly elbowed Jk to draw him away from the gaze of the cameras.

I don't think it's because they stopped being 'bold' or want to pretend. It takes a lot of courage to even pretend or even perform the gay in front of the world and your peers. I think they are just awfully aware and conscious of the people they work with as well as corporation's growing awareness, intentions and interests in them. You just never know which saessang is moonlighting as a brand PA or marketing director for a company they are working with. You just never know who is watching especially whenever they have to work with these 'outsiders.'

Think of Dispatch. Were they not allies or business partners, they'd be careful around them too if they worked with them. Know what I mean?

Toning down and exercising caution is necessary sometimes. I don't know why some people think that's absurd or Tuktukkerish when I say stuff like that. Especially with the kind of reputation they have as a ship and just how commercially attractive that image is. It's common sense at this point if you ask me.

Jikook sells. Argue with the analytics. I don't know who thinks they don't. Must be the clowns and penguins. They sell period. BigHit knows this, BTS knows this, companies know this. We don't scream Jikook is a brand within a brand for no reason.

And a lot of the toning down in recent times has perhaps inadvertently mitigated that growing power and demand of them as a marketing resource- who knows, that could have as well been by design, intentionally instigated for obvious reasons which I argue is the case but don't mind me. I'm delusional, gay and apparently the man of my woman's dreams uWu. Gotta wear that pants in my relationship. Ayaya Hwaiting.

When you say he prefers to stay closested- I thought they are both closested already?? They both have never been fully out in our opinion. Yes our opinion because I feel we are like minded. Let's be delulu mates.

On the topic of closets, I want to save that for a separate post. What I can say though is they are both growing and maturing and learning and unlearning. Jungkook's desire to 'come out' or act reckless with his glass closet in my opinion stemmed from him placing more value on his personal happiness over other values perhaps because he was young and hadn't fully grasped the full and complex nature of happiness or understand the privilege he has as part of BTS.

We make decisions based on our values most times. It's how I make sense of their actions really. I'm more likely to assume things that are consistent with the values they each have expressed openly and tend to reject any theory that contradicts or is inconsistent with those values. A guy who values his career is less likely to act in a way that puts that career at risk. And I'm well aware their values evolve over time.

These days he has never quit as one of his mottos next to rather dead than cool- do you see the contradictions in those values? Rather dead means quitting life. Yet now he says never quit. Don't mind me. I'm in a grumpy mood.

But what I'm saying is, the desire to want to show the world who this person means to him is not fixed or a priority all the time. Now i think he values his career a lot more than before which means he is more likely to compromise and less likely to do things that may put that career in jeopardy.

Transferring that to his relationship, I don't expect him to be breaching the glass closet anytime soon. And if he do, it might be incidental and may carry with it consequences which I believe he is well aware and concious of now. Will that change? You bet. Again it depends a lot on what his values in a given moment are and which ones he prioritizes.

It's their relationship. They chose which aspects of it they want to share with the cameras. Some of it get written off as fanservice. Fair enough. But the nonfanservice passing moments has always been questionable- although I must say, I find all Jikook moments and interactions questionable lol.

It's just skinship. Holding hands I mean. Why would he be conscious of that right? II'vetalked about consequences and repercussions of their actions. Sometimes I think it's the off screen scolding that gets to him. The ones silently whispered at his back. I mean we saw his reaction when Jimin was getting scolded by the hyungs for sleeping late. He's talked about skipping sleep too if I recall correctly. Jimin is hyung and I know the hyungs expect him to know better and do better. I'd Imagine Jimin would equally scold JK if his actions reflected poorly on him too.

So why the hell would he not say anything to Jungkook for posting on his birthday when he hadn't posted at all for any hyung's??? Sigh.

It's sad his guards are back up- but it's for good reason I believe given the context of the situation.

I don't think dramatizing his dynamic with Jimin makes him bold. Nor does Jimin's propensity to over express himself with Jungkook mean he loves Jungkook more than. Both are extreme takes for me.

Nevertheless, I contrast that moment with a Tae Kook moment which is one of my favorite tuktukk moments. In this moment, JK is staring at Jimin, his whole body turned towards him. Tae notices the cameras and draws JK's attention to it. I think there are two such moments like that from the recent contents? I don't know I have to cross check.

Tae in that moment reminded me a lot of Jimin. Jimin does this too- play out their relationship infront of the cameras to the point one might say he likes to show off their bond- which is such a BTS thing to do too so no big deal. I mean they like to show off their bond and chemistry as Tae said a while back.

It's one thing for JK to hesitate to act with a member because of the cameras, it's another for him to act self conscious only after the fact.

And JK has always been him like this with Jimin as Jimin used to say- JK acts different with me off cameras than he is on camera. He had a history of suppressing himself around Jimin owing in part to his personality

He's talked about putting on a mask around people and in a recent interview Jimin have talked about pretending and acting one way when he's not- I mean I've ever talked about the boy being in love with the Maknae being a facade- one of many.

They have public personas which, from what BTS themselves say, looks slightly different or similar to what we see on screens- or that they've grown to be more like what we see on screens.

I guess what I'm getting at is that 'pretending' isn't exactly a new thing or out of the ordinary. Personally I'd say he's being conscious of his surroundings like Jimin was and not that he is 'pretending.' If you know what I mean.

If he's pretending he has good reason to I believe and we can only speculate on that- we can't know for sure why.

If Jikook is fanservice then there's no need for either of them to worry about the cameras picking up on their interactions or who's watching them.

What goes on in Tae's head? I wanna know.

I don't know where to direct this post because you didn't really ask a question.

I'm fine thanks for asking. I'm really fine. I'm thinking of joining Jimin in the gym at 3am to bench press and build some biceps to match my role in my relationship😒

And no I don't need any advice. Keep it.

This is going to be my attitude until we switch back😐

I'm gonna be a boyfriend from hell and a blogger from satan's ass.

Also I think I overshare💀

GOLDY

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puns-parce · 2 years

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im sorry im nowhere near finishing the writing or drawing aspect of that "beside this cherry tree" thing but i wrote this scene last night and it broke me trying to reread it it's not great but fhakfhakfns just qi rong praying to mu qing before Mu Qing's even ascended because he has so much faith in him. qi rong kissing mu Qing's name. qi rong wanting him to come back.

anyways it's below the cut if you want to see my attempts at writing

Contains: implied qiqing, and a passing mention of beheading and torture

"Prince Xiao Jing has come, let's get out of here! Prince Xiao Jing is here!" someone from outside called in a low voice. Based on everyone's reaction, it was more like they had warned that the devil was arriving. Everyone within the temple fled, and, not long after, Feng Xin and Xie Lian heard a soft jingling as a young man made his way into the temple, a glass gem lamp in his hands. He was dressed in a lavish brocade and cape, and when he lifted his head his face quite resembled Xie Lian. The only exception was his eyes, which were much more sharp about the edges with thin, high eyebrows that provided the young man with a resting face of condescension. It was none other than Qi Rong.

Xie Lian almost smiled to himself, seeing that Qi Rong had outwardly matured and gained an undeniable air of nobility, though Feng Xin was less pleased. It wasn't surprising, given that he was usually cleaning up Qi Rong's messes. Qi Rong held the lantern to his forehead and prostrated solemnly, his relaxed expression making him appear even more like his older cousin, though the lamp cast ominous shadows over his features. As he finished paying his respects, the pair groaned as his old habits seemed to resurface and he began whining.

"This is the five hundredth lantern I've offered. I've been your most loyal believer, the first to support you and the most devoted. When will you come see me? You left and I've only had one dream where you came to me, and even worse you took my only friend. No one else here wants to talk to me, and you continue to ignore my pleas. The heavens truly do make gods high and mighty and cold...." His voice dissipated towards the end, whines turning into hoarse whispers. He flicked his finger against the lamp and hung his head, though not with the same annoying air as he did when he would pout as a child. Instead, it was quite a pitiful scene, like a man that had lost the will to go on. "But I'll keep praying. I know you're not like the others, you're just busy. That's all, that's why you don't visit..."

He rose to his feet and reached for a brush so he could begin writing on the lantern. Xie Lian looked to Feng Xin and with a simple head shake from the other, he waved the thought away. He had hardly considered it anyways, seeing as Qi Rong often brought him headaches and disobeying the heavens to see him would only double the headaches. In any case, he couldn't say that what he felt at that moment had even reached sympathy, only locking itself at pity.

However, that pity turned to appreciation as he watched how properly and beautifully Qi Rong wrote, those high eyebrows coming low as he frowned in concentration. Feng Xin snorted as he read the lantern, wondering if it was a mistake.

Keep our kingdom safe, bless us with prosperity, and please bring Mu Qing back home

Xie Lian was relieved that it wasn't something asking for a bully to be beheaded or tortured in a gruesome manner, but seeing such a prayer made his head throb. "Why is he wishing for Mu Qing's downfall? Ah, and here I hoped he had changed, though I suppose now it's quite good that Mu Qing isn't here..."

Stuck in reminiscing about Qi Rong's growing up, Xie Lian didn't see the way those hands shook, almost dropping the brush and the lamp. Qi Rong pressed his forehead to the clean side of the lamp, knelt to the floor, and closed his eyes once more. Truly a bit unusual.

"I am your first, last, and most devoted believer, so please come back...," he whispered, his words and respects no longer remaining inside his own head. Xie Lian snapped out of his reminiscing just in time to hear, though he felt quite awkward as those words were clearly meant for a different person. Qi Rong's hands shivered as he offered that light, though not before he pressed a soft kiss to the lamp. More specifically, the last part of his prayer. The prince then backed away to leave, wiping at his damp cheeks.

#qi rong #tgcf #mu qing #qiqing #Feng xin #xie lian

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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 3 years

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El and Morality

I don’t know about the rest of you, but the latest teaser left me with a feeling of intense dread. We see these kids playing in a seemingly carefree manner, but then Brenner comes walking in. He greets them, and they obediently respond. They’re all very used to it by this point, and they all call him Papa. He claims to have something special for them, but then we cut over to El’s isolation room and hear Brenner asking her if she’s listening.

Why does this fill me with dread? Mainly because the previous teaser showed some similar images to what we see in this one. The 8-ball, for example, is shown on one of the monitors, only it is covered in blood. It leads me to believe that something terrible happened that day. With Brenner asking if El is ready, then the shot of who appears to be El opening her eyes as if from a nightmare, has me wondering if he used her for something that resulted in the deaths of the other kids.

It’s by no means the most likely scenario for this teaser, but it’s where my mind went. The eerie music, the heavy breathing (ostensibly El’s), the fear on El’s face, it sends an ominous message. Is El remembering something from long ago? Is this a new group of kids in Brenner’s new facility? Is it just a nightmare fed with fear and guilt since she couldn’t save anyone? I really don’t know, but the idea that El may have been used to test the “worth” of the other subjects led me down an interesting road. Whether it was a “training exercise” gone wrong or a deliberate “culling” of the weak, I can’t shake the feeling that El did something that she desperately doesn’t want to remember.

If Brenner intended to use these kids to his own ends, then they should hold no allegiance to anyone but him. Emotional attachments to anyone else would be a risk in his eyes. They would need to have total, unquestioning obedience regardless of what he may ask them to do. For El to be the tool he wishes her to be, she would need to not think twice about killing. Brenner would have instilled in her, and the others, a need to garner his approval. This is why he teaches them to see him as a paternal figure instead of a doctor or teacher. We’ve seen him try to get El to kill a cat, but she refused. This upset him. Yet, we also see her have little issue killing in other circumstances. She’s somehow developed a sense of morals despite being manipulated from birth.

Morals are an interesting phenomenon. The entire concept of right and wrong really is subjective when you think about it. It’s a very abstract concept, and the way we think about it changes as we mature. However, it is also heavily influenced by external sources. In this case, Brenner would seemingly have total control over how his “children” learn to evaluate the morality of a given situation. I’ve previously spoken about El’s mental development, and how Brenner would have wanted to nurture certain intellectual domains, but restrict others. Here I want to discuss a similar process with the psychology of morality. Specifically, we will explore how El may have been manipulated into doing something that we, as viewers, would find horrific, yet come to develop a system of morals in spite, or perhaps because, of that.

Lawrence Kohlberg conceptualized the development of morality as coming in 3 levels (Pre-Conventional, Conventional, and Post-Conventional), broken down into 6 stages . These stages are more or less cumulative, as previous stages help pave the way for later ones. There’s no clear-cut ages for these stages, but level 1 generally encompasses early childhood, level 2 is later childhood and adolescence, and level 3 adulthood. The first level contains the more “primitive” or basic moral frameworks, obedience/punishment driven and self-interest driven. This is a level defined by a more egocentric understanding of the world, as it revolves around what’s “good” being what results in a positive consequence, and what’s bad being what results in a negative consequence. For children, this means learning what’s “good” as a result of an external reinforcer(i.e. “Papa) and then developing this into a sense that it can be used for a mutual benefit (”If I do what Papa says, he will be happy, and I will be rewarded.”). Since it’s still a stage defined by self-interest, there is no loyalty here, and such relationships will deteriorate once it is no longer beneficial.

This may have been Brenner’s fatal flaw. Most individuals wouldn’t move onto the Conventional level until adolescence. While these kids may have had some basic sense of loyalty to “Papa” since it’s possibly all they ever knew, it would still be easily shaken. If you offered these kids some candy, they’d probably do whatever you said unless there was enough fear preventing them from doing so. Fear, not loyalty. El was afraid of Brenner. She may have done his bidding for a long time, but it was because his approval meant better treatment, not because his approval was of value in and of itself.

Given El’s age when she escaped, she was on the cusp of adolescence. Thus, she may have been developing some early features of the 3rd stage, which we can call the “good boy/girl” stage. Here, a person would want to be considered “good” for its own sake, and would look to society for what that means. For our purposes here, Brenner and the lab could have been attempting to be the “society” that the kids would judge themselves with. They would evaluate the morality of an action based on how the others would judge them for it. This is possibly where Brenner wanted the kids to be, only with no concept of what good or bad is beyond what he instilled in them.

That may have been something of a clumsy explanation of the relevant stages of morality, but I didn’t want to get too technical. The important things to take away from this is that El’s sense of right and wrong would have largely have been defined by what resulted in her being happy and/or rewarded. She may have wanted Brenner’s approval, but only because it meant good treatment. The problem here is that El may have been getting her needs met elsewhere: the other kids. If we presume, for the sake of argument, that El developed friendships with the other kids, then we could say that these relationships interfered with the total control that Brenner would want. If she gets older and starts caring more about how they feel about her than how Brenner feels, then his power over her weakens. This is where things get potentially scary.

Let’s say Brenner noticed this happening. El is the most promising, and most dangerous, of his subjects. He must maintain total control over her. However, she is very friendly with the other kids, running the risk of developing attachments that would lead to a more conventional morality. So, Brenner sets up a scenario. He isolates El for an extended period of time, possibly even telling her that the other kids accused her of misbehavior. He tells her that they don’t care about her like he does. El, being in those early stages of moral development, starts to see them as bad since they result in her being hurt. In a real world situation, one kid would be able to do something nice for another in this situation to smooth things over, but this isn’t possible with El in isolation. Then comes the day when Brenner has “something special” in mind for the kids. He’ll see if they’re worth the time and effort, while also finding the extent of El’s obedience.

None of this means El is a bad person, as we will generally see kids acting with such selfishness. One kid gets mad at another for stealing their toy, but fifteen minutes later they’re playing together as if nothing happened. However, kids generally don’t have superpowers they can use instead of pushes and mean words. There’s also usually adults around to help mediate such issues, whereas Brenner would probably want to encourage it to ensure they wanted his approval and his alone.

It’s possible that whatever happened that day changed El and Brenner’s entire dynamic. Whether El was responsible for what (possibly) happened or was just made to witness it, it didn’t have the desired effect for Brenner. We later see El reluctant to kill unless it was to protect (or punish). It’s still unclear where that moral distinction came from, but it suggests that she no longer saw Brenner’s approval as beneficial.

What happened after Brenner walked into that room? Why did he ask if El was listening? Is a present day Brenner asking if present day El is listening while she was remembering/dreaming? Or is the voice a past Brenner asking if past El is listening to his instructions?

Now, this could all be nothing. A good teaser will try to get us hyped up without giving anything important away. The “are you listening” might not even be from that scene at all in reality, or it could just be for the teaser. Still, I thought it a good opportunity for an exploration of morality in someone raised from birth to be a tool or weapon.

Something happened somewhere to make El believe there were right and wrong times to hurt or kill someone, and I just think this may have been a pivotal moment. I think we first see her kill (or at least serious injure) when she breaks out of her isolation cell. That can be explained by her still largely being in the first level of morality. Being in that cell was not in her own best interest, and she reached a point where she didn’t see a way to improve her situation. She may not have intended to kill the orderlies, but it was also not of concern to her. However, we also see her be more deliberate with Troy. First, she merely makes him wet himself, which is a remarkably clever solution. Later, she breaks his arm, but it appeared to only be due to him holding a knife as she simply knocked James down. When it came to the agents or the demogorgon, though, she was prepared to kill again. When she went with Kali to find one of the Lab men, she was ostensibly prepared to kill him until she realized there were kids around. The only pattern I can really see is that she will kill monsters or adults, but she’s reluctant to harm (at least seriously harm) kids or leave them without a caregiver.

I feel like this shows her being caught in between Pre-Conventional and Conventional levels of morality. She’s still largely going off of her own self-interest, but she’s also starting to consider the thoughts and feelings of others, namely her newfound friends. El seems to really want to keep them safe to the point that she risks her own safety. One could say that their approval, particularly Mike’s, is of value to her. She wants them to see her as good, and she attempts to conceal anything that would make her seem “bad” in their eyes, such as the fact that she’s messing with the compass or the fact that she opened the Gate.

We don’t really know how much time would have occurred between the event I hypothesized from the trailer and when El breaks free of the Lab. It’s possible that something happened there to get El to see some sort of moral distinction. She will prank, or even disable, a kid, but she somehow sees serious harm or killing of them as wrong. This leads me to believe that she harbors some type of guilt from her time in the Lab. It could be survivor’s guilt, especially if Brenner made her bear witness to the other’s being hurt or killed. It could also be something far worse if Brenner compelled her to hurt or kill them herself. Regardless, something happened somewhere along the time to get her to no longer as seeing her life in the Lab as “good,” leading to her escaping.

I think this is another one of those posts that got away from me, but hopefully I got my point across. If I try to hard to edit this thing, it’ll never get posted. Again, I have no idea what the teasers are suppose to mean, but they got me started on this train of thought. If you made it this far, then I apologize for those minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eleven #martin brenner

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cancelingthenoise · 3 years

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Unworthy

Soooo, after a 13 year hiatus, I’m trying to get back into writing and where better to start than fan fiction and with my fave OTP. But buckle up, it’s a heavy one. Hopefully I’ve tagged all the appropriate trigger warnings; apologies if I’ve missed any - please let me know if I have!!

Summary: Addict. Junkie. Worthless. He has been gone for three years and is ready to come home, but his biggest enemy is still the one inside.

Rated: Mature (Addiction, Recovery, Implied Drug Use, Drug References, Mild Sexual Content)

Cross-posted to FFN and AO3

He inserts the coins and dials a number he knows by heart. The only one that is permanently branded into the recesses of his mind. As it rings, he hopes – let it be the right number, let it still be her number, let her pick up …

Hello?

“Kagome.”

Inu … Inuyasha?

“I … want to come home.”

Where are you?

He tells her the city, the intersection, the name on the warehouse nearby. Everything that can pinpoint exactly where he is so she can find him.

I’m on my way. Stay put.

There’s a tone in her voice he can’t identify and it sends pangs straight to his heart, but she’s coming. She’s coming.

And so, he waits.

Two hours later a familiar red sedan pulls up in front of him and its driver approaches. She’s older now, tired, he notices as he stands to greet her. He watches as she looks him over. He’s dirty, he knows, and even his demon-blood cannot mask how battered and bruised he is. He’s shocked but admittedly pleased when she wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes him in an embrace. Her scent is altogether lovely and calming, like coming home.

It takes every fiber of his being not to whine when she pulls away and looks him square in the eyes. Her grey eyes are intense and full of contrasting emotions. All for him. “Let’s go.” She finally speaks, her tone decisive and unyielding.

He has nothing but the clothes on his back, but instead of a pitying glance, she nods. It’s almost cathartic that she’s here and he has no physical baggage to take. She tosses her purse from the passenger seat into the back so he can settle in.

He notices the ring when she places her hands on the steering wheel. Ten-and-two, ever predictable.

“You’re engaged.” He cannot hide the shock, the disdain that he feels.

“Yes.”

Her response is sharp and leaves no invitation for a response, but he can’t help it as the jealousy bubbles up through his core.

“Had enough waiting on the addict to clean up his act?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels instant regret. He’s always been a hothead who runs his mouth before thinking, but he can tell these words sting deep. They pain him too.

She flinches and releases a haggard breath.

“That’s not fair. You left. You stopped calling. You stopped picking up. You couldn’t even text. And then your number went out. Now you’ve called me from a payphone. It’s been three years.” Her eyes remain firmly on the road, hands clenching the wheel, but he can see her body tremble and hear the strain in her voice. She’s angry. Furious.

He slumps, “I’m sorry.” His whisper is meek as he understands a mere apology is not nearly enough to make amends for the past. It doesn’t explain why he had to disappear, why he went away for so long. It can’t make her understand his reasons.

She nods almost imperceptibly and seems to consider a game plan. “I’ll take you to Sesshomaru’s.”

“No.” He’s vehement. There’s no chance in hell he will turn to his half-brother. Especially now.

“Sango and Miroku’s then.”

“And?” He balks at the conjunction.

“They’re married now. Have been for a year. You would’ve been his Best Man, but …”

She trails off, but he understands. They couldn’t find him, reach him. The hole he left in their lives appears to be much greater than he imagined.

They drive in silence for nearly an hour. He wants to speak, wants to tell her everything, but he can’t find the words; and based on the furtive glances she keeps sending him, she can’t either.

“I was so scared you were dead.” She finally whimpers.

“Some days I wished I was.” He admits forlornly.

She looks at him for a few moments before staring back at the road, brows furrowed, mouth turned down.

“I’m glad you’re not.”

Those are the last words spoken before silence consumes them again.

After they hit the city limits, she drives to a house in the suburbs. It looks like a dream with its double-attached garage and neatly manicured lawn. A chokecherry tree sits among a bed of flowers in the middle of the green; simple yet attractive and he knows whose home he stands in front of. She leads him from the driveway to the royal blue front door and it opens almost immediately, revealing two faces he has longed to see almost as much as Kagome’s. Their expressions are a combination of disbelief and relief. Miroku does not hesitate to embrace him with a sigh as Sango looks on with tears in her eyes. He reaches a tentative hand out to her which she grasps tightly with a closed smile.

They usher him into the house and guide him to their kitchen. Miroku settles him into a spot at the breakfast bar as Sango pours him a glass of water. They do not speak, though the questions in their eyes are obvious. Miroku nods at him as he and Sango walk back to the door, to Kagome. She hasn’t come in. Her face has been drawn since they stopped speaking during the drive.

He waits inside the kitchen as they speak outside. He could train his ears to listen to their conversation, and briefly considers it, but he chooses not to. His absence has prohibited him from those intimacies. They are different people now, just as he is. They are probably discussing how to get him on his feet again as quickly as possible so they can get back to their lives. Why would they want him to stay? Why would they want him around for longer than necessary?

Miroku and Sango return to him. He hears the telltale roar of an engine and knows Kagome has gone. He feels sadness, but knows why she’s left without a word. After all, who can jump right into caring for your former partner who has all but risen from the grave?

Sango looks him over, assessing him thoroughly. He avoids her eyes, unsure of what emotions she’s wearing and afraid to meet them. Shame fills his bones. Maybe he should have stayed away. Maybe he should have stayed dead in their minds. He is a spot on their pristine lives.

Miroku refills his glass of water and replaces it on the counter before sitting on the stool beside him.

“You’re alive,” he finally breathes.

Inuyasha meets Miroku’s gaze and is warmed to see compassion and joy in his deep blue eyes. The shame that was eating him just moments ago fades ever so slightly.

“You’re home.” Miroku states, “It’s a miracle. Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

The dam is officially broken and all the questions that he knew were coming are finally bare, and despite everything, he feels entirely unprepared to answer. So he starts slow, begins with the day they last saw him. He tells them of his travels, the hitchhiking, the homelessness, but skimps out on the details of things he has done, the sins he has committed. Those are secrets he will take to the grave. He is unwilling to mar the consciences of those he loves.

“Have you…” Sango shakes her head, unable to finish her question, but he fully comprehends what she means to ask.

“No. I’ve been clean since the day I left.”

“Then why?”

“Loose ends.” He murmurs. “I had to settle my debts. They … they would’ve come for her if I didn’t comply.”

“For so long?”

Three years is nothing, he wants to tell them. He’s lucky he only had to serve that long. Naraku is a malevolent bastard and exploits the last breath out of most. Frankly, his death would have been an easier price to pay.

“I had to earn my freedom.” He admits this ashamedly and hopes they don’t press for more.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t so simple.”

“So you disappeared.” Sango states brusquely, her tone is harsh and unforgiving. “You broke her heart, you know. You broke all of our hearts when you left.”

That admission freezes him from the inside. He knew his absence would be difficult for them all, but hearing it spoken aloud affects him more than he thought it would. He imagines Kagome sobbing into her pillow. It’s a scene that is all too familiar, he’s caused her many tears – too many.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He repeats his submissive apology from earlier and slumps, his forehead almost touching the counter.

“You’re here now,” Miroku responds comfortingly and places a hand on his shoulder, “You’re here. You’re alive. You’re safe. That’s what matters. We can help you now, if you want it.”

He lifts his head and looks directly at Sango whose cinnamon eyes convey grief and yet hold a glimmer of hope. He turns to Miroku who is awaiting his response.

“Yes.” He declares, confidence daring to materialize, “Please.”

Later that evening he is settling into the spare bedroom they’ve given him. Before him is a suitcase of his belongings that Kagome has dropped off on the front step. He takes a breath and opens it. He is quickly overcome with her sweet scent which is deeply embedded in each item. The clothes are slightly too big for him now. Three years of constantly moving, being on the run, and meager meals have diminished his former stature.

Amongst his clothes is a red leather-bound book. A journal. It smells more intimately of Kagome than everything else. She has wept openly on these pages, he can tell. He opens it and thumbs quickly through the pages. Each entry is a letter addressed to him. As he flips through the journal certain phrases jump out at him amidst the lines of her loopy hand.

I want to hate you.

Where are you?

I wish I had never met you.

Are you alive?

I wish I could hold you.

Please come home.

I love you.

He shudders as he realizes that these pages hold missives from the last three years. These are Kagome’s thoughts, her feelings. This is an intimacy he thought was nearly impossible now. She has to have put this with his things on purpose. She’s thorough like that. Every action is purposeful, thoughtful. He finds the last entry in the journal, it’s dated today.

Inuyasha,

This is a collection of letters that I began writing when I realized you weren’t coming home anytime soon. Eventually I thought you weren’t coming home at all. I used these to talk to you as if you were still by my side. I don’t know what you’ve been through and maybe giving you this journal is selfish of me, but I needed you to see.

I hope they help you understand why I can’t be the one to help you right now. I need time. It’s ironic saying that after you’ve been gone for three years. It feels like there’s been nothing but time between us. I thought you were dead when I received your call today. I thought I was hearing a ghost. I’m so grateful you’re alive, but things are different now. We are not the same people we were before.

I need to figure this out.

Please understand.

Kagome

It isn’t until tears splatter on the page that he realizes he is crying. Of course she needs time. He knew this was a possibility when he made the phone call this afternoon. He’d hoped against hope that she would come for him and take him back fully. But that was wishful thinking. He knew there was a chance she would turn him away. She could have hung up as soon as she heard his voice. But she came for him, made arrangements for him. But she is engaged to another man. She needs to figure out if there is still room in her life for him.

For her, he’d wait a lifetime. Even to just be her friend.

It is another three months before he sees Kagome again. He’s read that journal more times than he cares to admit. All her sleepless nights are immortalized in those grid-lined pages, that he’s now dog-eared and bookmarked. Her worries, fears, even her dreams laid bare. He knows how often she cried when he was in the depths of his addictions, but it has taken this journal to make him truly appreciate how deeply he hurt her, even after he was gone. And to his astonishment, it wasn’t the behaviour that hurt her the most, it was his poor viewpoint of himself.

I wish you could see you how I do.

I should have told you more what you meant to me.

I regret every moment I didn’t say “I love you.”

He knows Sango sees her regularly, he can always scent her when Sango arrives home. It’s not as if they’re keeping their meetings a secret, but he’s respecting her space even though it kills him. It bothers him when he can smell the sadness of her tears and the tinge of fatigue. He wonders what causes her tears these days, why she’s so often tired, why sometimes there’s a trace of illness in her scent that lingers on Sango. From Miroku he learns that she’s busy with her residency at the hospital. Ever the studious achiever. Ever wanting to help others. To heal.

This is the reason he knows she’d never give up on him. It’s why she was the one he called. She’s a walking bleeding heart, always has been. She sees the best in people, even when their best is a mere speck amidst obscurity. When he was at his worst, she stood by him. When everyone else had lost hope and he’d been slipping deeper into his addictions, his darkness, she stayed. She brought him back from the brink of death’s door one too many times. Back then, she truly loved him. And he’s holding onto hope with every fiber of his being that she still does.

He hopes she’s proud of him and the progress he’s making. Since he’s been back, he’s found work thanks to Miroku’s contacts in construction. He’s proven himself to be a hard worker and has met a journeyman to mentor him as an apprentice in iron work. It’s also helped boost his confidence with reintegrating into society. At work, no one cares what his past is, what skeletons he hides in the closet, as long as he gets the job done. At work, they’re all sinners just trying to get by.

He stays away from the parties and the after-work bar stops. He recognizes the patterns in some of his colleagues all too well. One drink leads to two leads to three leads to smack or blow or both which leads to miserable mornings because you’ve spent all night chasing that first-time spark. No matter how hard you try, you can never attain that feeling again and still you chase. It’s the vicious cycle. He’s done with that life. It’s taken too much away from him, cost him too much.

Miroku and Sango have let him know that Kagome will be coming for dinner, so he’s had ample time to prepare. But when she arrives in the doorway and her scent hits him like a freight train, he panics. Has she had enough time? Has she made a decision? Will she want him to stay away? He runs to his room and leans back against the closed door. He’s stared down the barrels of guns with less fear than what he’s experiencing in this moment.

He smells her before he hears her footsteps arriving at his door. Trepidation grips him as he hears her voice call to him for the first time in three months. This is so much harder than that very first phone call that has brought him home.

“Inuyasha?”

She’s there, he can tell her face is pressed to the wood. Her voice is soft, hesitant. Perhaps she is just as nervous as him.

“Can I come in?”

He quakes as he reaches for the handle and turns it painfully slow. He inches the panel open. Finally, finally, he opens it all the way and turns to face her.

Her face is a portrait of concern and tenderness. Her grey eyes are intense as they’ve always been and are already filling with tears. Her arms are wrapped around herself as if she’s blocking a gale.

He steps aside to let her in and shuts the door behind her.

She stares at the floor and he focuses on a spot on the wall above her head for a few moments. He is completely stunned when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and clutching as hard as she can. As he wraps his arms around her shoulders, she sobs fiercely and he feels tears prick the back of his own eyes.

He cups the back of her head, gently stroking her hair, and whispers repeatedly, “I’m sorry.”

It feels as if hours have passed when Kagome’s tears finally subside. His body protests when she begins to pull away, but she clasps his hand and pulls him to sit on his bed. She pulls a tissue out of her jeans pocket and wipes her face.

“Sango tells me you’ve been working,” her voice is pinched from crying, but he admires her attempts at normal conversation.

“Yeah, it’s going well.”

“Good,”

She smiles then and he thinks it’s the best thing he’s seen in years. Her eyes are red and swollen, and her cheeks are ruddy, but her smile can still light up a room and he’s glad that it’s his.

“I … really am glad that you’re home.”

“Me too,”

“I’ve missed you a lot,

“Me too,” He feels like a goddamn broken record, but he may combust if he attempts more words.

“And … I’d like it if we could start hanging out again.”

He gapes at her, slack-jawed and eyes wide. While he has been hoping for this, it is still a surprise to hear it straight from her lips. His mind races with all the things he wants to say and his heart is lodged in his throat.

“That is … if you’d want to,”

He realizes that he’s taken too long to respond and she’s beginning to backtrack. In a lot of ways, they are still the same people they were; confident in so many circumstances and yet, with each other, eternally hesitant and nervous.

“Of course I want to,”

The words rush out of his mouth in an effort to reassure her.

“I would love to spend time with you. I just wasn’t sure … if you’d …” he’s stumbling and feels like a fool, but he needs her to know. He needs her to understand just how much he wants to be back in her life.

She smiles again and his world warms once more.

“I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”

It takes him a moment to remember that their friends are downstairs with dinner and they stand together. He realizes as they descend the stairs that she has not let go of his hand at all. Her diamond ring is notably absent from her finger, but he leaves that question for another time.

Dinner is a simple affair and it’s the lightest he’s felt in years.

- - - - -

If there’s anything his life has taught him, it’s that happiness is temporary. Six months of being home, six months of stability, and three months of having Kagome back in his life on a regular basis have made him happy. It’s a feeling he didn’t think was possible, didn’t think he was worthy of. After all, when life has ceaselessly handed him cruel lessons, why would happiness even be an option? So when it all comes crashing down as he’s out running errands with Miroku, it doesn’t surprise him, but it still hurts like a motherfucker.

“It’s you.”

The words are scathing and resentful. He dreadfully lifts his gaze to meet the eyes of the person who seems to offended by his mere existence. She’s a petite woman with short black hair, but the animosity in her eyes belies her diminutive stature.

“How dare you?” Her tone is soft but punitive. “How dare you insert your filthy little hands back into Kagome’s life. She was finally moving on. She was happy. She was going to marry Akitoki, he would have taken care of her. He was good for her. But you couldn’t stay away. She broke off her engagement because of you. You’re taking advantage of her heart. She’s let go of her chance at happiness, and for what? To take care of you? A worthless little nobody who can’t wait for his next fix?”

The woman is viciously relentless. Her diatribe is unforgiving, slicing him to the very bone.

He is completely frozen. He wants to yell back at her, tell her that he’s quite aware of how he is undeserving of Kagome’s compassion and forgiveness. He knows that he’s been the cause of her pain and tears. He knows he’s gotten more second chances than he deserves. He knows her life was easier without him. He knows Kagome is better than him. He knows. Oh, he knows.

He vaguely registers that Miroku has taken a step between them and is reprimanding the woman. Eri, he remembers. She’d been a friend of Kagome’s through school and had been more than vocal of her disapproval of him even then.

Eri quickly turns her malice toward Miroku.

“You’re no friend of Kagome, letting this fuck-up back into her life.”

“That’s enough. I won’t allow you to continue vilifying Inuyasha. And Kagome is fully capable of deciding for herself who she associates with.”

Miroku’s tone is level, but Inuyasha can tell he is running out of patience. Miroku grips his elbow and guides him away from the venomous witch, but not before she can get a final word in.

“You should have stayed dead.”

He flinches then, her phrase echoing endlessly through his mind, settling into his gut and clawing at him from the inside.

Somehow Miroku gets them home, everything is a blur with that bitch’s voice reverberating in his skull. He hears Miroku’s voice, but he cannot focus on the words. All he understands is hatred and disgust. Everything he has worked for is worthless. Is this the way it’s always going to be?

She finds him on the back porch, sitting on the stairs, staring blankly toward the sunset. She sits beside him on the step and sighs. Her voice is weary.

“Miroku told me everything. I’m sorry that happened.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

“What?” Her shock is more than evident. She clutches his forearm with both hands and he can sense her tears beginning to form, “How can you say that?”

He doesn’t dare look at her, he knows it’ll ruin his resolve. As low as he feels, he feels a ripple of anger brewing in his gut. Eri’s words have been festering in his brain, allowing an old and familiar voice to break through. He’s a half-breed, accepted but unlovable. He’s stupid and useless, completely unworthy of happiness. He’s committed too many wrongs to ever deserve redemption. It’s been a long time, but the feeling inside is one he’ll never forget. He’s craving a high to numb this pain, this goddamn fucking anger.

“If you want that perfect life, you should take it. I don’t want your fucking pity party. I know you look down on me. Poor Inuyasha and his asshole attitude. The only time he’s bearable is when he’s high as a damn kite and that’s only because he doesn’t know up from fucking down. Of course, the downside is that he might stop breathing.” He scoffs harshly, “Or, is that the upside?”

He knows his voice is bitter and that he’s gotten louder. It’s echoing the one Eri used earlier. He’s shaking from the anger, or is it something else? This scene feels all too familiar, almost like déjà vu; but somehow, it’s different now.

“Inuyasha. Stop.”

She’s pleading with him, her grip on his arm has gotten tighter. He knows she’s weeping openly; he can scent her tears and hear the stutter in her breath. It’s all too familiar. After all, this is what he’s good at: making her cry.

“Doesn’t fucking matter I’ve been clean three years. That’s all anyone will see, a fucking deadbeat addict. You’d be better off with that doctor. He can take care of you, pamper you. He’ll be enough. He’ll deserve you. That’s not me. That’ll never be me. All I’ll ever be is a fuck-up.”

“Don’t.”

She whimpers and lets her grip loosen. He’s sure she’s going to walk away, get back in her car and leave. He keeps his stare steady on the sun that has almost completely slipped beyond the horizon. There’s a war waging inside of him – his angels and demons come out to play. Not for the first time, he bitterly wonders if this continued sobriety is worth it. She’s going to leave, just as she should.

When her hand comes up and gently cups his cheek, he is completely undone. She tenderly moves his face, but he keeps his gaze downcast. Her hand is soft and warm to the touch as her thumb swipes away his tears. Of course she’s staying. Her bleeding heart won’t let her leave. He cries for her, her lost opportunities, her damn sympathetic selflessness. But she surprises him again in what she utters; and in her words, he finds hope.

“You have always been enough for me. I have always seen you. The you who loves me and would do anything to protect me. The you who acts tough because you’re scared of rejection. The you who wishes you could change the past. The you who is more determined and smarter than you realize. The you who has worked hard to conquer those shitty demons inside. That’s who I see.”

She sighs and he feels her whole body tremble.

“Every time you used, I was terrified. I was so scared that you wouldn’t wake up one day, that you’d stop breathing, that your heart would fail. That I would lose you. It made me angry, it’s why I pushed you so hard. I wanted you to get sober for me.”

He meets her eyes then, their pretty grey glimmers in what’s left of the sunlight through the sheen of her tears. In them he finds no pity, only benevolence. Everything she has said, he has heard her say before. He’s read it before. But this is why it isn’t a complete déjà vu, it’s different. It’s different because they are different. They have grown and she confirms it with her next statement.

“It was selfish. I wanted you to get sober, but you needed to do it for yourself.”

He reaches up to grasp her wrist, lightly squeezing in lieu of all the words he wants to say.

She lets the corners of her mouth turn upwards ever so slightly.

“And you did. You succeeded. I don’t know what you’ve been through these last few years, and maybe I’ll never know, but what I do know is that you came home. You did what you had to and came back to me, and I am prouder of you than you can ever imagine.”

She presses her lips to his forehead and gathers him in her arms. He allows himself to take comfort in her embrace because comfort is not happiness and is not so easily taken away.

He goes back to her apartment with her that night. Their apartment. It looks the same as the day he left. He is simultaneously comforted and haunted by the familiarity. This place that they made home together. Where they laughed and fought. Where he wasted his nights and she cared for him. This is where he had joy and lost it. This is where he left her.

She putters around the kitchen, putting the kettle on for tea. As she pulls two mugs from the cabinet, he realizes that they’re the matching set they painted for each other on a date some lifetime ago. She sees the recognition in his stare and begins to speak.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I kept everything the same.” She smiles timidly and her eyes are filled with earnest, “Everyone thought it was unhealthy, but it kept me sane. They tried to convince me to move out of here, and I was adamant that I wouldn’t – couldn’t. Because if you came home and found I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”

She busies herself again, pulling out a tin of teabags and a sleeve of arrowroot cookies.

“And then as time went on and I started fearing the worst, I needed to hang onto my memories of you, of us. So, everything stayed the same. Even though I was moving forward with school and … eventually, Akitoki,” She glances downward, sheepish. “Home was my constant. It was me. It was you. It was us. It is us.”

He steps toward her. He has so many questions and a spark of hope is igniting in his veins.

“Why?”

The word hangs between them and he tries in vain to push that hope down, down, down. It is such a simple word, and yet holds so much impact.

She lifts her eyes to meet his, grey colliding with amber, understanding pouring through.

“We met when I started my residency. He was a third-year. At first, I didn’t pay him any mind, but he kept persisting. Eventually I figured meeting for coffee wouldn’t hurt.” She pauses, reaching for his hand. “You have to understand that you’d been gone for almost two years. I was lonely. And … and he was safe.”

She scoffs, grips his hand tighter, and leans fully on the counter.

“He was a proper gentleman. Waited a month before he kissed me the first time, even asked permission before he did. It was another month after that before we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend. It was a bit of a surprise when he proposed on our anniversary. Obviously, I said yes – you saw the ring. Except, it felt wrong. It was all wrong. We hadn’t even talked about the future or even moving in together, hadn’t done more than kiss. But I guess that’s part of propriety. And yet, I said yes because it was safe, that stupid word.”

His mind is racing. Safe is not a word he has ever been associated with. What does it even mean? He searches her face for a clue, and anxiously waits for her to continue. This is a conversation they have not deigned to have yet in the three months since they’ve been friends again. The kettle is boiling rapidly now, but he knows that it’ll automatically shut off.

“Then five months later, you called me and this feeling I hadn’t felt in so long came rushing back. You were alive. It was like the clouds were finally parting after a heavy rain. I didn’t know what to expect when I came to pick you up, and this tiny part of me told me not to go, but it was right. I felt right again, but I was scared. So I stayed away. Then I heard from Sango and Miroku that you were working and doing well and I was missing out on that. I broke off the engagement. As much as he was sweet and safe … he wasn’t you.”

Tears are welling in her eyes and he feels his are getting misty as well. He steps and pulls all in one motion, wrapping his arms around her tightly. His heart is pounding out of his chest and that spark of hope is now a flame.

She draws in a haggard breath and mumbles against his chest.

He tilts his head down to look at her, silently pleading for her to repeat what she’s just said. His ears picked up her message, but he needs to know for sure.

She tips her chin upwards and shyly brushes her lips against his and repeats herself a little more loudly, “I love you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Her eyes darken and she presses a kiss to his jaw.

“Because you’re you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away.”

He whimpers, “Kagome,”

She kisses him fully then, grasping his face to ensure he can’t pull away, not that he wants to. His heart is exploding. She has always been able to read him, know what he’s thinking. And she has always known what he needs most. This kiss is full of promises, assurances. This is real.

“You are important. You are loved. You are worthy of it all.”

She guides him to her bedroom. Their bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed in disbelief that he is back in this room. He can hardly believe that this woman is standing before him with love in her eyes. This amazing, beautiful, strong, resilient woman who is holding the door to happiness wide open. He only has to cross the threshold. He falters. Happiness is dangerous. Happiness is temporary. But she is here and he trusts her implicitly. With her, happiness is feasible.

With one look into her deep stormy eyes, he makes a choice.

“Kagome.”

Her name. The only word he seems capable of uttering. In her name he promises to try. Promises to treat her well, make up for the pain he has caused her. Promises to try and see himself through her eyes. Promises to be kinder to himself. Promises to help build their life together back up. He knows with her, they will succeed.

She caresses his face and drops her lips to meet his once again, resting her knees on either side of him. He clutches her waist and revels in the familiarity of her body pressed against his. Their motions are slow, meticulous, not dictated by hormones and lust. And they fall into a routine, a dance that hasn’t been done in years and yet they fall back into with practiced ease.

With every kiss she presses hotly into his skin, she whispers continuous affirmation.

You are enough.

You are worthy.

You are mine.

I love you.

He finds words still impossible to formulate and voice, so he allows his actions to speak for him. Each caress, each kiss, each touch is full of reverence and adoration. When he finally sinks into her and they become one, he truly feels like he is home. And all of his feelings of unworthiness and self-loathing begin to ebb, for it is the love of this woman and her unwavering belief in him that he can begin to heal.

As they settle into each other, heavy with the lure of sleep, he whispers in her ear, “I love you.”

She nestles into him closer and kisses his wrist.

For the first time, in a very long time, he feels worthy.

FINAL NOTES:

I wanted to mention some things as a bit of a debrief to this story, if you will. This is a story that is very personal for me and is quite heavy. Hopefully the ending was enough of a pleasant one to offset the weight a bit.

The way I designed this story, Inuyasha and Kagome are separated during the toughest part of his recovery. The decision to stay with or leave a partner with addiction is a difficult one and can be different for everyone, especially because addiction is so highly stigmatized. A lot of the time the person struggling already carries guilt. Addiction so very often stems from trauma, depression, and/or other forms of mental illness and these need to be addressed first.

Regardless of whether you stay or go, it is important to set boundaries for yourself. Addiction is often labeled as a third-party to relationships because it attempts to wear down the people involved and whittle them down to their weakest and worst. If you are supporting someone through addiction and an active part of their recovery, it is vital to remember self-care and recognize when you need to say no and that it is okay to do so. It is NOT your responsibility to "cure" them.

If you are somebody who cares for someone struggling with addiction, I am happy to share resources that I have found helpful if you would like to reach out.

On another note, I do have ideas about where and what Inuyasha was up to during his three-year absence. It would probably contain heavier content than this piece, but also be a bit more fantastical. If the inspiration hits or if there’s interest, I’ll probably try and write it. Anyway, comments and likes are love. Thank you so much for reading my return to fan fiction!

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fic #omg i'm writing again #inukag #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #tw: low self esteem #tw: depressive thoughts #rated m

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sailorfailures · 4 years

Photo

I fell in love with these postcards from the Girl’s Night Out popup cafe the moment I saw them! I knew I had to get my hands on them, and the lovely @blaze-rocket was able to help that happen.

I cannot get over how perfect these postcards are. To me, this is what Sailor Moon is; a testament to the little moments from the series that made us fall in love with the characters, especially how their personal preferences were reflected in their fashion choices. In a world of merch where it’s easy to just slap a random crescent moon on something pink and say “look, it’s Usagi,” the designer responsible for these graphics went the extra mile to take imagery from the show itself that needles its way deep into our nostalgia-cortexes.

How many references do you recognise? Quiz yourself against this comprehensive (image-heavy) list! 👇

The inners’ postcards all reference the eye-catching sign for Game Center Crown, the iconic arcade where Motoki Furuhata worked and the gang would all congregate to play games and share information.

Starting in R they switched to hanging out at Fruits Parlor Crown, a cafe attached to the arcade staffed by Motoki’s sister Unazuki, which the Inners’ postcards all also reference. They would often get brightly-coloured drinks there, but the drinks pictured on these postcards seem to specifically line up with the real drinks available at the Girls Night Out popup cafe.

Sailors Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto’s postcards all reference “Café Étrangère,” which was the name of the cafe they were seen dining at in the Sailor Moon S movie. Even the logo is replicated faithfully from a scene only a few seconds long.

All the girls’ clothes are hanging on coat hangers shaped like Luna/Artemis/Diana.

Ami / Sailor Mercury’s references:

Ami’s casual outfit is an unusual choice since she only wore it a handful of times over the entire series, and half the times she wore it, it was given a different colour scheme with a green jacket instead of the yellow version pictured here.

Her “mini data computer” is her most iconic tool/weapon/accessory, revealed in episode 009, directly after her introduction.

The pink package is how Usagi and the other girls wrapped up her transformation stick and communicator watch as Ami’s going-away present in episode 062.

The ice cream may be a reference to the same episode, as she shared a cone with Chibi-Usa before she left, and returned to the store to protect her friends from the Droid Nihpasu.

The flash cards are a method Ami commonly used to help her study, and are particularly similar to the ones shown in the SuperS short “Ami’s First Love”.

Rei / Sailor Mars’s References:

Rei wore her casual outfit fairly frequently, starting and most notably in the beginning of the Sailor Moon R movie.

The small red o-mamori charm is from Hikawa Shrine, seen frequently but introduced in episode 010.

The paper ofuda ward was used frequently by Rei to fight evil, even before she could transform, but most notably in the attack sequence for “Akuryou, Taisan” (“Foul Spirit, Begone”).

To my knowledge the purple bag isn’t a specific reference, but Rei did throw a similar purse at a Cardian as a makeshift weapon in episode 048 before she got her Guardian memories back.

The gift-wrapped shopping boxes are the exact same ones as carried by Rei in the Sailor Moon Sailor Stars opening sequence before she trips and falls, right down to the patterns on the paper...

... which in itself may be a reference/callback to Rei’s tendency to make Yuuichirou carry her shopping (maybe so she doesn’t trip).

The phoenix-shaped pendant is a reference to episode 183; it’s made of glazed ceramic, crafted by Rei’s cousin Kengo Ibuki, given to her as a child after she convinced him not to smash it even though he his pottery a “failure”.

Makoto / Sailor Jupiter’s References:

Makoto didn’t start wearing her casual outfit until around S, but she wore it frequently after that, especially as she became more confident wearing “feminine” clothing. They even remembered her iconic gold wrist watch worn over her sleeve!

Her uniquely decorated bento bag debuted in episode 026, her introductory episode, along with the rounded green cutlery. The pouch has been featured a few more times since and its design is a mainstay in almost every Sailor Moon canon.

The teal hairtie and the rose-shaped earrings are two of Makoto’s iconic accessories, some of the only non-magical fashion accessories in the entire series to stay the same whether the character is transformed or not (the other being Minako’s infamous red bow). Her earrings also served a dual purpose as makeshift projectile weapons in episode 025.

The blue book is 月夜の天馬 (Tsukiyo no Tenma, “The Moonlit Pegasus”), a novel which was written by Tomoko Takase and introduced in epsode 134. Makoto knew Tomoko from her old middle school, before she transferred, and was the first one to read her first draft after retrieving it from bullies. She encouraged Tomoko to try and get it published. Makoto meets with her again and helps her overcome her writer’s block to finish her sequel, 天馬幻想 (Tenma Gensou, “Pegasus Fantasy”).

Minako / Sailor Venus’s References:

This is one of Minako’s most-worn casual outfits, especially if you consider the additional outfits based off it. Despite its prevalence, she didn’t start wearing it until the beginning of S.

Minako’s red hair ribbon is her most iconic accessory, but did you know why she started wearing it? The Codename: Sailor V prequel manga explains that she started wearing the ribbon instead of her usual red hairtie on the suggestion of her “first crush” Higashi. But when he turns out to be an enemy in disguise, she decides she looks good with a ribbon anyway, and keeps wearing it for her own benefit.

The red mask is a reference to Minako’s role as Sailor V before joining the team as Sailor Venus. Sailor V was known as a mysterious vigilante superhero and a fictional video game character as early as episode 001, but in episode 033 Minako revealed herself to the rest of the Sailor Team, dramatically removing her mask one final time.

Minako was known to be a skilled volleyball player, especially in the manga, and it was especially relevant in episode 100 where she had to delicately return the serve of an energy sphere containing the Pure Heart of her old volleyball crush, Asai.

The sign with Minako’s name can be seen hanging off the front of her bedroom door in episode 192.

[Manga scan courtesy of Miss Dream.]

Usagi / Sailor Moon’s References:

Usagi wore this outfit in the Sailor Moon R movie, making it a memorable choice. Although the movie aired roughly midway through R, Usagi didn’t start to wear this outfit casually again until the S season.

Usagi is shown eating a lot of food, especially sweets, but she seems to have a particular fondness for crepes, snacking on them in several different episodes.

In episode 143 we can see that Usagi is very technologically trendy - for the times. She’s carrying that blue-and-pink pager which she and Mamoru use to contact each other by way of goroawase, that is, deciphering messages based on the different pronunciations of numbers, a precursor to modern texting. Mamoru pages her the numbers 84 51, which could be read as hachi yon go ichi; reading only the first syllables, and substituting go for the related sound ko, Usagi would interpret the message as hayo koi, which sounds a bit like “come quick” - she’s late for their date. Oops!

By the way, pagers were often called “pocket bells” (pokeberu) in Japan, and became so rapidly popular they even found their way into the lyrics of Rashiku Ikimasho, the ending song for the SuperS season; 「泣きたい時にはポケベルならしてよんで、戦士の休息」 [Nakitai toki ni wa POKEBELL narashite yonde, senshi no kyuusoku] “If you feel like crying, send a page thru the Pocket Bell, take a break from [being a] Guardian”

Chibi-Usa / Sailor Chibi Moon’s References:

Chibi-Usa doesn’t technically have a school uniform, but her casual clothes are often styled after sailor suits as a reflection of both her idolisation of the figure of “Sailor Moon” and of her desire to be seen as older and more mature than she appears. She changes “uniforms” every season, and this pinafore outfit is the version she wears in SuperS. She wore the other outfit in the SuperS premiere episode.

The handgun is from episode 060, Chibi-Usa’s introduction to the series and arguably one of the most iconic absurdist scenes in all of Sailor Moon. The gun itself is actually a toy, probably a transformation of the Luna-P sphere, which Chibi-Usa uses to try and threaten Usagi into giving her the Legendary Silver Crystal. When she “shoots” Usagi, the bullet is revealed to be nothing but a suction-cup flower, also pictured. (By the way, if you were wondering, Chibi-Usa’s fake gun is based on a real Colt M1911A1.) She transforms the Luna-P into a toy gun to shoot Sailor Moon again in the Sailor Moon R movie, this time as a way to motivate Usagi to fight.

The Luna-P sphere was a mysterious gadget Chibi-Usa kept with her for the duration of R and parts of S. It’s unknown where it came from, but it could be assumed to have been created from advanced 30th century technology. It was a combination toy and tool which could transform itself into a variety of objects, formulas, and even weapons, though none were shown to be particularly powerful. It could also be used to communicate with Sailor Pluto at the Time-Space Door. When Chibi-Usa was manipulated into becoming Wicked Lady in episode 085, the Luna-P sphere also transformed into an “evil” and much more dangerous version.

The Space-Time Key was a special tool given to her by Sailor Pluto that allowed her to travel between the past and the future, though it was difficult for her to wield effectively.

The sunhat was given to Chibi-Usa by Ikuko, so she treasured it greatly. In episode 112 it got blown away and was retrieved by Hotaru Tomoe, which allowed her to meet Chibi-Usa and marked the beginning of their close friendship.

The blue-and-red package was a gift containing two manga books (”Drop Drop” vol. 1 & 2 by Ukon Katakuri) which Chibi-Usa intended to give to her new friend Hotaru in episode 113.

In episode 127, Chibi-Usa returned home to the future, and the girls all made her some going-away gifts. Ami made her a floppy disk (lol) to help her study, Rei made her a casette tape (double lol) of her music, Makoto packed her a lunch, and Minako made her a photo album of their time together. Usagi hand-sewed Chibi-Usa the rabbit-shaped backpack using a real outfit she used to love when she was a child.

Michiru / Sailor Neptune’s References:

This is a somewhat unusual choice for Michiru’s casual outfit, as she only wore it for two episodes, and that’s only because they made up a two-part story. But perhaps because the episodes were so pivotal - with Haruka and Michiru almost learning Usagi’s true identity - the outfit itself became more memorable.

Not only do they include Michiru’s violin, but they included the lemon she bounced off the instrument as she played to show off her skills in episode 093.

The teacup, teaspoon and saucer are the same set Michiru was seen drinking from at Fruits Parlor Crown in episode 094.

Michiru and Haruka both reference episode 095, where they had to enter a “true love” contest as part of their investigation. The contestants were asked to find their partner’s hand in an anonymous lineup, and Haruka was able to identify Michiru’s hand immediately.

Michiru used Haruka as a model for an illustration in her green sketchbook in episode 106.

Michiru’s Talisman is the Deep Aqua Mirror, revealed in episode 110 and used in her attack Submarine Reflection. She could also use it to receive prophetic visions. Visually, it was based on real-life art nouveau hand mirrors, and symbolically represented the mirror from the Three Sacred Treasures.

Haruka / Sailor Uranus’s References:

Conversely, Haruka wore this outfit a lot. Maybe more than she should’ve.

The teacup and saucer is the same set Haruka was seen drinking from at Fruits Parlor Crown in episode 094.

Haruka’s postcard also references the lovers contest in episode 095 (see above).

The purple scarf is from episode 096; Haruka was wearing it as a necktie when she almost ran into Makoto on her motorcycle. Haruka used the scarf to bandage Makoto’s road rash, which she returned later, though now smitten.

Not only is Haruka’s motorcycle included, they also referenced (one of) her car(s), the 1968 Toyota 2000GT.

Haruka’s Talisman is the Space Sword, revealed in episode 110 and used in her attack Space Sword Blaster. Symbolically it represented the sword from the Three Sacred Treasures.

Setsuna / Sailor Pluto’s References:

Setsuna didn’t have a school uniform, since she wasn’t a student, so she got to double-up on her casual outfits. Her mauve outfit is her most recognisable, wearing it so often it may as well have been her uniform. In fact, she was rarely seen wearing anything else until Sailor Stars, where she started experimenting with other outfits, including the Time Lord-esque suit on the right.

The potted plant is a Tellun, the energy-draining plant created by Tellu in episode 121. Setsuna was investigating it when it attempted to attack her, but she was protected by her Talisman, the Garnet Orb (also pictured, representing the jewel in the Three Sacred Treasures). She then went on to destroy the remaining Tellun plants and defeat Tellu with the help of Sailor Moon, Sailor Chibi Moon, and Tuxedo Mask.

The teacup and saucer are the same set Setsuna is seen drinking from at Cafe Etranger in the Sailor Moon S movie.

In episode 182, the girls are discussing the mysterious arrival of Chibi Chibi while eating ice cream on a hot summer’s day. Setsuna appears out of nowhere to confirm their suspicions... carrying that popsicle of her own.

Hotaru / Sailor Saturn’s References:

Hotaru tended to wear the same thing, mostly all-black, but she did occasionally adventure into rich colours like this bottle green two-piece outfit and iconic raspberry beret.

The sunhat belonged to Chibi-Usa; it symbolises the beginning of their friendship, when Hotaru caught it after it blew away in episode 112.

Chibi-Usa gave Hotaru the rabbit backpack in episode 116, using it to pass a note inviting her on a picnic.

Hotaru collects lamps, and the two referenced here are seen in her bedroom, which she keeps dimly lit to manage her pain.

The window might seem random, but it was random in the series, too - it’s one of the curtained window which looks out from Hotaru’s bedroom, and when a Daimon experiment goes terribly wrong in episode 118 and transforms her house into a Bamboozled-like inter-dimensional maze, one window overlooks a vast ocean while the other overlooks a strange jungle.

Hotaru’s weapon as Sailor Saturn is the Silence Glaive. It’s said that she possesses enough power to destroy the world with a single drop of her scythe.

That’s it! You made it! How many references did YOU know? 🌙

#sailor moon #long post #I couldn't have done this the easy way. I couldn't have just posted the pictures and been like 'ooh look pretty'.#it was fun though and I actually learned some things in the process #I feel like I slipped through time somehow and designed these for Toei and then blacked it from my memory #again: sincere apologies to those on mobile

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ourstarscollided · 3 years

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jatp fanworks appreciation - day 1 (writers)

motivation - so in true me fashion and my aversion to brevity, i've made three (3) posts (see also artists, gifs/edits) to celebrate the wonderful people in this fandom who have made my jatp tumblr experience what it is; a community of people who simply shout into the void about their love of a ghost band and their fearless female leader. i've enjoyed simply being on the sidelines admiring everyone's love for the show, but i thought this would be a good time to really show my appreciation for all these wonderful people, because if i've learned anything from this pandemic, it's that there is NEVER a wrong time to tell someone that they are simply ✨the best✨.

disclaimer: i don't interact with most of these people personally and i simply absorb their content from afar and scream about how wonderful they are in the tags.

This list kind of became a fic rec, so if you're looking for some wonderful fics to read (or reread), I've also included my favs from the author here as well.

Okay this is gonna get a little long so please bear with me. But I just wanted to preamble this by saying that the fanfiction written by the jatp fandom is what resparked my love for reading fiction after about 3-4 years of not reading for leisure (be an adult they said. it'll be fun they said.). So I'm really grateful for that? I don't interact with a lot of people, just because it makes me a little anxious, but I will constantly yell about your content in the tags as if I were on a set of bleachers with a megaphone.

I also know there are so many wonderful fic writers out there (on Tumblr and not on Tumblr) that make amazing pieces of work, and this is just a tiny peek into that, and is not at all conclusive.

Without further ado here are some writers who live rent free in my head, in alphabetical order, so feel free to just skip to your name to avoid my rambling:

@bluefirewrites -> your Merry Ex-Mas fic had me on the edge of my seat every single time you updated. I am so in love with how you wrote the characters into this and at how many words you churned out for this fic. This was filled with so much adventure, and it was really welcome during a time when the world wasn't allowed to travel. And I simply love all the other drabbles and fics you write, but I especially enjoy the hilarity of Ray Molina, Crime Scene Photographer and Matchmaker.

@captainkippen -> I'm pretty sure Love Drunk was one of the first fics I ever read in this fandom. Your stories and your writing feel so goddamn real and I find myself so immersed in the worlds that you've created. I have reread most of your jatp fics and I still manage to find myself stupidly grinning at my phone each time. Your stories flow so easily and are such perfect characterizations of the characters we know from the show, but elevated to fit into your verse. I cannot say enough how wonderful your writing is and how talented you are!! (also a slight nudge that I am still very much following along with The Key and the Crown and I hope you continue it!)

@catty-words -> Your???? Exhaustive??? Music??? Lists???? The amount of work and dedication and microanalyzing that you put into pulling out every detail from each scene is so admirable. You not only manage to find the details, but you also give us EVIDENCE via your intricately selected gifs. You could've just put the video of the performance, but no, you take your time to find that specific 1 second shot to emphasize your point. And your little fics that you sometimes throw out into the world? They're so beautiful, and so fun to read and I enjoy them so much! (I am STILL screaming about this band's a snack) Thank you for validating my yelling in the tags, and for feeding my hyperfixation to this show. (I'm sad these lists are ending soon, but it's about the journey ya know?)

@lydias--stiles -> I don't even know what to say here because I've yelled so much about your fics that I feel like there's really nothing else to yell. Your Road Trip AU was also one of the first ones I read in this fandom, and really just made me go absolutely feral. Pretty sure I absorbed the rest of your fics in an ungodly amount of time and I just simply think you are incredibly skilled and talented. Every time you post a new fic I always wonder what it's like to be in your head because the ideas you come up with are so unique and so well thought out. Thank you for all the art you create for this show, I will constantly be in awe of you. (Special shoutout to the 5+1 fic that became a 31 chapter monster)

@pearlcaddy -> This list would not be complete if I didn't mention you. First of all, thank you for suggesting this wonderful week, it has been so lovely to see so much love being spread around today. Secondly, I never thought I'd find myself reading a Buffy or a Wizarding World crossover fic, considering I know nothing about those two things. And yet I found myself on various nights after work at 3 in the morning just silently screaming and/or crying into my phone. Your writing is so insane. Your world building is so insane. Your banter/dialogue is insane. The way you capture the love between Julie/Luke in different universes is so perfect. Thank you for gifting us these beautiful pieces of art, and I hope you know that you have at least made one person (me) a very happy reader. I also really admire your dedication to "this will only be a oneshot", only to write like 4 other POVs for it. (Special shoutout to 100 Bad Days)

@ruzek-halstead -> Literally every single fic you have written lives rent free in my head. The way you've managed to build this universe of different Julies and Lukes, and each one still captures the essence of them is astounding. You've extended their characters beyond what we know from the show and I am just in awe of everything you write. Please know that dead of night is both triggering to me and yet the most hilarious thing I have read. (Special shoutout to the Fake Dating Christmas AU and of course the Cinderella Story AU)

@serendipitee -> Your stories and your writing are absolutely magical. I think Write It Down was one of the first multi-chapter fics that I followed super closely and whenever you updated, I would literally drop what I was doing and read it instantly. You have such a way of building the plot and the characters for all of your fics and drabbles, and making the reader just want more. Please know that I am so obsessed with Oh, She Waltzed With the Dead and I cannot wait to see where you take the story!

@sunsetcurbed -> I have no words for your writing. I am simply in awe every time I read something from you. The way you've got down Alex and Willie's voice to a tee is so crazy good. You write their characters and their stories with such grace and care, especially with how you approach the topic of mental health. Thank you for all the research you do and for also writing in your own experiences. I literally binged the Princes Diaries AU during work and lost a good half day to it, and I regret nothing because that fic left me in SHAMBLES. I secretly adore the way you say you're going to keep a fic short, and end up writing an insane amount of words for it. (I have not yet left my obligated long-ass comment on Chapter 4 of the College AU yet because I am still processing the fate/destiny concept.)

@tangledstarlight -> Gahh. Rosie. Please. This is going to sound a little repetitive considering I just screamed at you last night, but now I guess I will just have to publicly confess my adoration for you!!! Thank you for being my first online friend in a very long time, and for putting up with me yelling at you about everything (and also nothing at the same time). I can't believe all it took was one message about your Royals AU for you to post it, but I will gladly take that credit any day. You are so so so incredibly talented with your writing, and your ability to transport me to another world while I read your fics is unparalleled. I adore the way you can come up with a new story to write every day, and then proceed to throw it into your pot of other WIPs. I am so so so so lucky to have gotten to know you and am incredibly grateful that I now have someone to cry about everything with 🧡 (If you read anything from Rosie, you need to read her Seasons/Long Distance Juke "friendship" fic and the Reggie x Photography oneshot that made me bawl my eyes out.)

@thedeathdeelers -> No thoughts. Just soulmates. Jk jk, you know I love your Reggie x Ray x Carlos fics, and I will scream in the tags about it until the day I get more of those fics from you. This is lowkey a threat, but wrapped in kindness. You are so wonderful to see on my dash (albeit scary at times because of the sheer amount of headcanons and theories running through your head), but you radiate such positive energy that it's impossible to not want to jump in and scream about soulmates with you.

Some special mentions to fics that also live rent free in my head:

@sunsetsandcurves wrote a Willex Cruise Ship AU inspired by a Simple Plan song and it’s something I never knew I needed until I read it.

@phantom-curve wrote a Juke fic based off of Coney Island and I would just like to say, yes, it did shatter me. (Here’s the fluff sequel that makes up for it though)

@unsaidjulie wrote the Juke dog fic of my dreams and I simply cannot express how much I want the Molina’s to have a dog now.

@pawprinterfanfic managed to get me incredibly invested in a Star Wars AU even though I know absolutely nothing about Star Wars. I just know that I would die for two (2) space boys.

@sanssssastark your Later universe made me realize that I do very much want there to be more mature content for this fandom (and you constantly deliver).

@theobligatedklutz wrote a Tangled Willex AU that makes me screech every time there’s an update. Just read it.

@alexthedrummerboy your talent knows no bounds when it comes to your Social Media AU. Also she’s written ORIGINAL songs for Alex and Willie?!?!?!

@gennified has this really wonderful modern take on pride and prejudice for Willex and I’m so obsessed with how much miscommunication there is.

@bananaleaves okay, I just found your Tumblr today, and I know you don’t know me in any capacity, but allow me to scream about THIS FIC RIGHT HERE. If anyone in this fandom is to read ANYTHING, it’s this fic. This was one of the best things I’ve read in a long time and absolutely wrecked me. Please just read this.

This turned out WAY longer than it was supposed to, and I’m SO SORRY. (I also tried to make sure I got everyone’s pronouns right, so PLEASE let me know if they’re wrong!) A final sincere thank you to everyone in this fandom who writes. Your talent knows no bounds. Gonna stop talking now before this becomes an essay....

#jatp fanworks appreciation week #fic rec #if i realize that i've missed someone i'm gonna bite the bullet and send an ask to you okay. i will not let my anxiety STOP ME FROM #YELLING HOW MUCH I LOVE PEOPLE'S WRITING!!#idk what else to tag this other than i genuinely think this show saved my mental health and so have all the fic writers.#gonna post this now before i chicken out oky aklfwjepofae #motivation monday

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

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A Rose By Any Other Name Would Still Be As Sweet //Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia//

Since the vote ended up differing by one, with at least four people voting for both I have no choice but to write both stories. But for today, it's Malleus' turn

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No matter how long you stayed in the Ramshackle dorm, there was always an aline feeling that bubbled in your gut. There was just something about your new home that made you feel out of place and very, very alone. Even with the understanding that Grim sleeping at the foot of your bed and Ace or Deuce being just a quick phone call away, you couldn't shake how foreign you felt.

It seemed like every moment you laid in your bed listing to Grim's soft murmurs about the new Unidragon he had fallen for, made the feeling grow stronger. It's cold long limbs descended from your brain, wrapping around your throat and prohibiting air to pass through. You laid there for a moment longer begging the feeling to depart. In the end, you gave up, gradually pushing over the covers and making your way outside. Maybe some fresh air was all you really needed to make the tendrils of isolation and dread leave you alone for the remainder of the night.

The inside of the "abandoned" dormitory was always a mess, no matter how much you cleaned or how much the ghost (and occasionally) Grim tried to keep things in order, the dorm just tended to fall apart again. This being said the outside was no better. The garden's where empty, the poltergeist insisted they remain that way so they would have enough room to play magical shift. The front yard was nothing more than a graveyard with a stone pathway leading off towards the school. It didn't help put your mind at ease, instead, the whole morbid scene of the tombstones simply made you cry. Tear flew like a stream from your glossy eyes. Quiet sobs pushing past your lips no matter how much you tried to remain silent.

"Are you the child of man?"

The sudden voice made you jump setting your nerves on high alert. Your wet eyes traveled upwards being met with a shadow figure looming around by the tombstones. "W-What..?" you choked, your gorge was still hoarse from the crying and mini breakdown. Your heart had sped up, something was very wrong here. For a moment you debated running back into the house but your feet just wouldn't move.

The figure stalked closer, dead leaves screaming under his heavy step. As he approached, little (y/n) took note of two large curved horns sprouting from atop his mess of raven lock. The darlings orbs locked on the odd features. They weren't mortifying or bizarre, lord knew she'd seen much worst during her stay. If anything they piked her curiosity. The tall man came to a stop in front of her, his blazing eyes seem to be the made up entirely of glowing poisons you'd seen in your potion classes. In the moonlight, you could tell that his skin was as white as the freshly fallen snow. He was mesmerizing, exquisite and...he was smiling at you?

His lips were pulled back into a glowing grin. You seemed to have piked his curiosity too. "Are you the new inhabitant of the dorm?" his voice was breathy and seemed to float on the air around you. "I um y-yeah" you'd forgotten just how broken your voice was, unlike his elegant tone yours was brittle and crumbling. You took a deep breath, welcoming the much-needed air your lips slowly parted tongue peaking out and licking along with them. You tried again hoping your voice actually worked this time, "W-who are you?"

The stranger lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You don't know who I am?" confusion evident on his tone. "Should I?" you asked, he could be some sort of celebrity or another school perfect, either way, you were too new and inexperienced to truly know who anyone in this world was. "I guess not, no, I'm just a third at the school. Pray, tell what year are you? Can you even do magic?"

He sure was inquisitive, you give him that. From the little, you did know, third-year seniors in Night Raven were usually more comprised, collected and mature than the two younger years. Surely it would bring you no harm to entertain him with a few simple answers about yourself.

"I'm a first-year class 1-A." The horned man scrunched his brows a slight wrinkle forming on the bridge of his nose. "Isn't that the class of troublemakers?" it was like he was recalling something distant as if he was looking through you into a past life he had left behind some time ago.

"I-I wouldn't know" your graze fell to the broken asphalt. Did the headmaster really consider you a troublemaker? Even, after all, you'd done for him from the dammed moment you'd fallen through that godforsaken mirror. He just shrugged seeming to have returned from his little stroll down memory lane. "It may have changed, it been quite some time since I was a freshman" His voice was fading again eyes losing their shine once more. You figure it best to continue talking before he's too far gone "no I-I um can't perform magic".

"Then why even bother staying in school and going to classes?"

You sign and began to recount how you fell through a magic mirror and the misadventures that followed. At the end of your tale, the shine seemed to have been reignited in his eyes if anything it was brighter then before. "You from another world?!" He asks kneeling down to look at you face to face. "My that's all so fascinating! Lilia use to tell me old tales about foreign universes I never thought they were actually real! Yet here you are!" It was the first time you'd heard him raise his voice. Did your story really entertain him so much? The stranger may have been tall and talked as though he was born centuries ago but there loomed a childish nature around him. "Hey, who's Lilia?" it was your turn to ask the questions.

"Oh, he's my...father...no...nanny? I'm not...sure? His voice kept diving into uncertainty and resurfacing only to down once more. "You don't know the difference between a nanny and your own father?" not only was he childish he downright didn't seem to comprehend what a family even was. "Difficult childhood" he brushed it off as if it were merely a pesky fly bussing by his head "now miss...I apologies where are my manners I never asked for your name?" Oh right! It just dawned on you that you had nither given your own name nor asked for his, the lack of sleep and constant looming anxiety plus the constant run-ins with delinquent students who much prefer to fight than to exchange compellations, had left you forgetting your own manners.

"(y/n)...(y/n) (l/n) so-called dorm leader of the Ramshackle dorm"

He let out out a chortling laugh before turning on his heels and stalking back into the shadows "Well (y/n) of Ramshackle it was a pleasure meeting you I do hope we meet again" No sooner had the words departed from his lips that the darkness seemed to gobble him up. "Wait!" you leaped to your feet and ran over to where the man had just disappeared. "I-I didn't get your name!" you called into the nothingness that surrounded you. Your shoulder slumped as you let out a defeated breath, it was no use the moonlit stranger was no more. For a second you debated if he'd even been real or if your fatigued mind had started to play tricks on you. Regardless it was no use waiting out here, you had classes tomorrow and from what you could tell you'd only be getting a few short hours of rest. Overactive mind permitting that is.

Little did you know that the man had in fact been real. That like clockwork every night since the encounter you dreamed of the stranger again. His lips where always on your a burst of sour blackberries invading your mouth, overrunning your senses.

one night the dream seemed more lucid than ever before, the night where he was on top of you, your bodies entwined on the cold ground of the cemetery front yard. As time progressed the dreams got more vivid more detailed, the tastes and touches and bruises seemed to follow you into the land of the awoken.

You were slowly spiraling down a maniacal hole. The line between reality and dreams was so blurred it was practically invisible. You waited impatiently each morning to drift back into sleep and meet your lover once more. To feel his smooth fingers run up and down your spin. To feel his sharp teeth graze your delicate flesh.

you knew him, you walked with upon your dreams

Oh but darling, he is more than a dream, Malleus Draconia is indeed real. And he is in love, in love with you. He's visited you every single night since your first meeting all so many nights ago. He's well aware that you aren't quite aware that he exists and that he is more than a figment of your imagination. It's a benefit of having someone's name when under the control of the fae they can't quite tell what is real and what isn't. For now, this is alright, for now, he's content with your nightly rendezvous.

But one day he shall awaken you from your honey-sweet dreams and steal you into a blurry reality where the border of dream and reality has been obliterated. It may seem like a curse but it's merely a gesture of love.

In the end, it's your fault, you sealed your fate the day you gave the dark Fae your name.

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Now I'm seriously considering writing a story based on this quote from Sleeping Beauty.

"from this slumber, you shall wake when true love kisses, the spell shall break"

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x you #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x you #yandere malleus draconia x reader #disney #malificent #yandere #yancore #yandere x reader #yandere x you

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

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Girls’ Night — a girlfriends’ tale

Characters: OCs (Vixen, Princess, Lace), small Namjoon intromission

Wordcount: 12.2k

Genre: slice of life with discussion of BDSM themes, conversation

Rating: suggested 18+

Hello doves! As I announced the other day, I have been working on extra pieces that I really loved as a concept. This one — I must admit — is especially dear to me since it covers topics that I consider extremely important. This fic discusses mature themes. Please minors, do not read or interact.

Quick recap: (read Jimin’s Love Talk if you want to know the whole background for this story) Princess — Jimin’s girlfriend — has ventured into the world of BDSM after Jimin expressed his interest in being dominated and spanked. A few days after her first brief session with Jimin, two old acquaintances come to her help: Vixen — Namjoon’s girlfriend and Princess’ high school classmate — and Lace, Vixen’s best friend, Princess’ university flatmate but also Taehyung’s latest crush. (Tae and Lace met through Vixen at Taehyung’s housewarming party). The girls meet for dinner at Princess’ apartment and after some confessions and girl talk, they explore the most important rules and procedures a person should know before dominating their partner in a basic impact play scenario, with special contributions of a trained domme and an experienced brat.

The piece is written with the girls as characters described through the POV of an external narrator. If you want to get to know the characters a bit better, you can find their headcanons here (Vixen — Princess — Lace).

On a lexical note: throughout the text I’ve used the word “dom” both as in short of the verb and of the noun. Even though the feminine form is usually “domme”, I’ve considered it gender neutral, as a short term for both “dominator” and “dominatrix”.

On an ethical note: I wanted to raise awareness on how a safe, sane and consensual domination works. These days there’s an increasing number of BDSM pieces coming out, and very few of them mention the level of emotional connection that is necessary in these circumstances. Most of them focus on the scene, without showing how pre-session negotiations, aftercare and post-session feedback work. I wanted this piece to be educational and I wanted to show the “background work” on how I plan each BDSM-themed piece before I write it. Though I’ve done a lot of research on handbooks, websites and forums, I am NOT a BDSM educator, so I would recommend reading more in-depth manuals in case you ever decided to venture in this world, and possibly speak with an expert first.

On to trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, obviously there is in-depth discussion of NSFW and BDSM themes with focus on impact play. Discussion of hard limits, negotiations, SSC (safe, sane, consensual), safewords, aftercare, bruising, cutting/puncturing (connected with cane and cat-o-nine-tales whipping), marking, pain kink, punishment, drop (both for subs and doms), anatomy of impact play (where to hit, how to hit), sex toys (spanking, face slapping, paddle, riding crop, slapper, strap, whip, flogger, cane). That should be all. In terms of angst, there is some insecurity, jealousy, and slightly traumatic past experiences. Lace recalls one time she “dropped”, Vixen recalls a series of quite intense scenes. There are mentions of Vixen’s second relationship (toxic relationship with a man who called her out for her sex drive, kinkshamed her and forced her into becoming exclusively vanilla). Both Princess and Vixen mention abandoning some friends since they couldn’t trust them close to their boyfriends, or not respecting their privacy. Lace mentions traumas that lead her to learn domination. She also explains her insecurities about possibly dating Taehyung.

Word count: lengthy. 12.2k words. Reading is not necessary but recommended since a lot of pieces stem directly from this one.

Here is my masterlist!

Enjoy 💖

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EDIT: You can find part two here

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Lace came through with the loud stomps of the heels of her boots, the bag on her shoulder swaying heavily. It looked like she was ready to enter Cat Woman mode, wearing a cropped leather jacket rimmed with a thick black-fur neck. Her wondrous thighs were clad in tight, high-waisted jeans, her black leather knee boots completing the look. She impeccably wore her part.

As she neared the door, she checked her watch, noticing that she was a couple minutes early.

Five minutes later, always fashionably late, arrived Vixen, her hair falling perfectly around her pretty face, her lips tinged with a deep wine red, her doe eyes as inquisitive and wide as usual. It was exactly the girl she had met two years before on the other side of the counter of her shop, it looked like she hadn't aged a week.

"Hello!" She greeted her friend.

"Hi there! Look at you, you look like the best girlie in the world." Lace hollered back.

"Because I am." Vixen replied, basking in the attention and the praises.

"That self esteem is thriving! Freshly fucked and ready to misbehave?"

"Unfortunately not freshly enough, but you know me, I'm always ready to misbehave." Vixen winked before making her way to the entrance of the building, pressing the buzz for Princess' apartment.

"Isn't your big boy attending to his duties?" Lace asked, curious about the whole situation. She had personally met Namjoon and had seen the two of them together. They looked like the it-couple and she would gladly bet big money on the pair. Plus she knew about Vixen's collection and Namjoon's taste in terms of lingerie and negligees: in her honest opinion that's a solid base for a lasting union.

"He's attending, yes, but I don't want to vex him with my continuous cravings."

"Baby, not all of us are like that slut-shaming bastard of your ex. Stop thinking that needing to get laid more than once a week is a shame."

Princess voice sounded from the intercom. "Hi! It's floor 16 number 41!"

"Thank you!" Vixen replied before pushing the door open.

Lace slapped her hand and held the door as Vixen walked through. The other followed. "It's just that… He's been busy, plus he keeps saying he likes to come back early so we can have dinner together, he's always rushing from the studio to the dorms to his apartment. He looks like he'll get drunk on motion sickness before the tour even starts."

Lace stared at her feet as you both stood in the lift. How could she start something serious with Taehyung if they were going on tour? By the time she would get used to him he would be travelling on the other side of the world.

"So he stays at the dorms?" Lace fixed her bag on her shoulder.

"Often, yes. He stays at the apartment when I'm around, but he prefers the dorms when he's by himself or working."

The lift dinged and you exited, heading down the hallway "Thirty-eight, forty, there!" Lace chirped, noticing the open door.

There stood Princess, hair in a ponytail, wearing a fashionable white turtleneck and a thigh knee-length skirt. She looked classy and smart, just like she had appeared during previous meetings.

"Hello girls!" She waved at the pair, gesturing at them to come in.

"Hi there!" said Lace, "long time no see."

"We don’t see each other in ages and then two times in less than a month." Princess replied while hugging her. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we reacquainted?”

Vixen nodded with a cute smile. "It would. I must say it was a surprise to meet you at the party with Jimin." Vixen took off her shoes as Princess offered her a pair of slippers.

"It seems like fate brought us back together." Princess replied.

“Indeed.” She commented, thinking about how they would get even closer if she gave in to the preternatural connection with Taehyung. Lace tugged at her boots, fighting with them a little before finally removing them, lost in her thoughts. She clumsily tried to avoid Vixen’s stare. She knew the girl would spot her secret in a second. Not now, she told herself. With the slippers on, Lace still looked like Catwoman from the ankles up, but her feet were clad with a pair of pink panther slippers that gave the outfit a hilarious twist.

"Let's move to the kitchen," Princess said, leading the way. "The apartment is small, sorry."

"Don't worry sweetie, with a view like this I would gladly live in a shoebox." Vixen commented, looking out of the window. "Plus you live pretty high up."

"It was accidental. I just needed something close to my office."

"What did you end up doing?" Lace asked as she looked at the prints on the wall.

"I work for a fashion magazine. Usually I do model casting and a little bit of everything about organising photoshoots." Princess replied.

"That sounds great!" Lace exclaimed, grinning.

Princess clumsily opened a bottle of wine, but fortunately no damage resulted. "What about you?"

"I'm a shop assistant in a lingerie shop." Lace replied.

"Don't diminish yourself like that." Vixen said, looking away from the window. "She works at the La Perla boutique in Gangnam, plus she has her own studio where she creates customised orders." The woman patted her friend on the shoulder. "She's amazing."

Princess lit up. "So you managed to make part of your dream come true!"

"A small part. I'm still far from having my own shop." Lace exhaled.

"But she's getting there." Vixen added with a positive note.

"I ordered in a little bit of everything." Princess said, taking the food out of the oven. "I didn't trust my cooking skills knowing this one." She pointed at Vixen. "I've heard you're almost a chef."

"I just took lessons." She shrugged. "I just really like everything that feels like home."

Sniffing at the air, Vixen sparked up, getting cozy at the smell of bulgogi. "This smells very nice."

"A little bird told me it's your favourite." Princess winked.

"Do I know that little bird?"

"He knows you very well." Princess said, admiring how the polished, elegant woman-girl turned completely smitten.

"I'll make sure to thank him."

Lace snickered. "Do you need help?" She offered, while Princess laid out a bunch of smaller plates and bowls with side dishes. "I got some dumplings, pancakes and our baby's favourite: braised potatoes."

Vixen clapped enthusiastically.

Dinner proceeded calmly, all the partakers digging in quietly, chitchatting between one serving and another, catching up on the various mishaps that had happened during those years apart.

"So you studied in Europe, right?" Princess asked Vixen.

"I spent almost two years between France and England, yes." She replied politely, sipping her wine composedly as if she hadn't devoured her serving of potatoes like a very smug wolf.

"Cool. But you came back here." Princess continued.

"Yes, I missed home. And I missed jajangmyeon." Vixen grinned. "Food in general. I like my life here. Living in Europe to me felt like being continuously on the sidetrack of something. Catching up with the culture is seriously a challenge, especially when you're in the art world."

"Right, you're an interior designer." Princess reminded herself.

"Exactly."

"I've heard you met Namjoon because of that."

Vixen smiled. "Yeah, well… The usual. We met at a gallery, I had a meeting with the artist and he accidentally participated. The artist and the director of the gallery accompanied us through the exhibition and at the end he asked if I wanted to grab a coffee. At the beginning I thought it strange that he hadn't booked a private visit, but he said that because of a last minute plan he had begged the director to book him in anytime. Since I'm friends with the director and I have strict privacy agreements at the firm, the curator thought it was a good idea."

"Who would have thought, uh?" Lace chirped in, laying her chopsticks on her empty bowl.

"Y'all, soju?" Princess asked, now that they were all done with the food.

While Vixen nodded, Lace held back. "I think I'll take just a sip. It gets me bloated."

The table was clean, the small cups for soju laying on the table as Princess shook the bottle and poured it according to tradition.

"Cheers to your taken asses and my single one." Offered Lace, the three of them laughing and downing the liquid. Princess drank it without even blinking, Lace taking it in a small measured way while Vixen downed it and scrunched her nose, shutting her eyes tight and shaking her head as she processed the burn.

"You're still a doll." Princess commented.

"And you're still otherworldly cool." Vixen replied, smirking. "You were the most bad ass girl of the class. I had lots of respect for you, but I was so scared of approaching you."

"You were so tiny and shy." Princess gushed. "You were everyone's crush but you were so smart. And a bit strange. It felt wrong to even think of you like that."

Vixen shook her head, "It feels strange to bring up those memories. After university and being abroad it feels like another life."

"Because many things changed in the meantime." Lace argued. "I've known you since you started working, two years ago."

"I spent half of my first paycheck at your shop."

"You did. And I asked you for coffee because I liked your sense of fashion."

"I thought you wanted to date me." Vixen laughed.

"Well, when you're done snuggling your big bear, you know you can come to me." Lace winked.

"My bear is pretty big so it might take me a while to be done with that." Vixen joked. "Plus I'm pretty happy. I haven't been this happy since I was nineteen. I'm content. Satisfied. Taken care of. Loved. I'm thriving." She closed her eyes and shrugged, smiling.

"My bad." Lace patted her own shoulder in support. "What about you and Jimin?"

"Oh, we met during a photoshoot. I assisted in his shoot and when he was done he asked to see the pictures that would feature on the magazine. That's when he asked me out for dinner." Princess said, her eyes shining as she remembered the event.

Lace noticed the two women staring at her. "Well time for my story… Me and my dildo met at the store, he was cute, I was needy and I invited him to my bed. That's how we first met and we've been happy ever since." Lace told emotionally. The other two burst out laughing, Vixen holding her belly while Princess leaned on the table.

"Oh goodness." The smaller one said.

"I think it's time we face our main topic. Would you like to start?." Lace asked Princess.

"Okay. I'll be very direct." Princess warned.

"Don't worry, we're all grown ups here. You're safe, darling." Vixen stretched her arm out to caress her forearm. "And we're pretty open minded, trust me."

"Okay. Basically, Jimin would like me to get a bit more rough in the bedroom. Namely, we tried spankings the other week. He sort of power-bottomed? Like he gave me instructions on how to do it."

Lace nodded.

"I am worried about how to handle this. I want to do it, but I don't know how to do it right. I don't want to hurt him." Princess said with a frown. “And I’m a little worried I liked it so much.”

Lace’s lips formed a small conspiratorial smile. “At the beginning there’s always a little bit of fear. And a bit of… Shame.”

“Yes.” Princess confirmed. “But it’s not something that bothers me. Like, it’s there but it doesn’t bother me. I don’t think it will persist. When I think about what we did… Well, I’m almost proud.”

Lace smirked and nodded. “That’s good. What would you like to work on? Is it just impact play — you called it "spanking" — or is it also domination on a broader sense?"

"Well… Wait, I took notes." Princess looked around, walking towards her bedroom and coming back with a small notebook and the guide.

"It's the book!" Lace exclaimed.

"The book." Vixen wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

"You, vixen." Lace smirked. "Namjoon is right calling you that."

"You have no idea." The other replied. "Now, let's see."

"I'll return you the book." Princess reassured her.

"You can keep it for another bit. You'll need it again with Jimin."

"We have our own copy, don't worry." Princess replied, with a quick smirk. "Well, I think I can dom pretty fine — as I read the book I realised I already have some of those behaviours. However there are some practices I might have to learn in person."

"Normally we teach how to dom through subbing: what you experienced the first time with Jimin was subliminally subbing." Lace took the reins and explained. "It is one of the most sophisticated forms of domming — being a power bottom — and the fact that he did that should suggest you that A — he's a very skilled sub, or B — he's generically a very smart person with good manipulative skills."

Princess listened to the explanation quite raptured. "Personally, I don't know how far he's gone with his exes but I would say he has taken the lead before and he's quite used to speak up and order me around a little, so his behaviour might come from that."

Lace nodded. "I would recommend that you talk to him and try to design a specific plan for the two of you. As I hinted before I have taken lessons on BDSM practices in a club here in the city. I have received almost two years of training and I have taken part as an assistant to a teacher for another two years, that's why I might sound academic and serious. You can stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable or when you need to ask a question." That's when Lace shifted. Her whole position changed: her back got straighter and her hands splayed on the table, somehow squaring her position.

"Okay." Princess confirmed.

"You know that during university I took that course on acrobatic yoga?" Lace asked.

Princess frowned. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, it wasn't exactly acrobatic yoga." Lace shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "At the beginning I did do some acrobatic yoga lessons but then one of the students introduced me to this BDSM course and I left yoga for… yeah, you know." Lace laughed.

Vixen listened quietly, observing Princess' reaction.

"Would you consider taking lessons from an expert?" Lace asked.

Princess shrugged. "I think that the book was very good on general analysis. Personally, I've never considered meeting an expert mostly because I wouldn't know where to look for one. Plus, I've only had a week to think about this."

Vixen looked at Lace. "I'll be very blunt here, darling. I think that the best thing to do would be discussing the whole book thing with Jimin. Have pre-session negotiations. Discuss stuff. Find out what you want to explore and go there together."

Lace raised an eyebrow. "However, it is perfectly okay if you want to practice by yourself. Being a good dominant means that you can convey control and safety through your stance and behaviour. That requires practice."

Vixen nodded before adding, "It's okay if you want to take some steps by yourself before bringing him into the equation."

"Okay, so I reckon you have quite some knowledge on the theme. Maybe you could teach me something?" Princess asked Lace, a bit shy but fully determined.

Lace smirked. "That's why I came prepared. However, I must remind you I have been a co-trainer, and that doesn't mean I am a teacher, therefore I can only cover the basic stuff, which for now will suffice."

Vixen's eyes burned expectantly.

"Our girl here might help you see stuff through a submissive's eyes, right?" Lace questioned.

Vixen nodded and smiled, reassuring Princess by placing a hand on top of hers.

"Okay. Let's talk about general principles. BDSM is an acronym for Bondage, Domination, Sadism and Masochism. But I guess you read this in the book." Lace presented.

Princess nodded.

"The golden rule is SSC: Safe, Sane, Consensual. Use protection and make sure that you're both tested and clean if you go without a condom or dental dams. Also, keep your toys clean. Do not start anything if your judgement is clouded — by alcohol, drugs or violent, instinctual emotions. Make sure that both you and your partner want the same things. Explain what is going to happen and negotiate before each session — at least for the first few times. This is also the right moment to talk about safe words."

"Me and Jimin covered these already." Princess noted.

“Then you’re already halfway there. The biggest part of training is making people always aware of all the steps that could possibly go wrong and make sure that you’re prepared for the worst case scenario.”

Vixen nodded. “As a sub, it is important to feel safe. An anxious sub is a sub who can hardly feel pleasure, and that invalidates the experience as a whole. We only do it for pleasure.”

Princess listened carefully and thought about it a little. “How… How does it feel…To be a sub? I mean, I’ve sort of subbed with Jimin but… Yeah.”

“Well, I’m leaning-sub. That means I rarely dom, and when I do I’m a power bottom — that thing that Jimin did when he gave you instructions on how to dominate him. Being a sub has a lot to do with feeling cherished and taken care of. Some of us are not comfortable with power and responsibilities. Some of us simply like to be told what to do and please. I like doing what Joon tells me to do and do it perfectly the way he wants it to be done, because I know he will praise me and reward me. I know that he loves me regardless of me doing what he wants, but it pleases me immensely to use my submission to show him how far my trust and love for him go. I feel safe when I'm in his hands. And I like punishment, it helps me deal with guilt. When I make a mistake, I always torture myself with guilt and self-hate, but punishment makes me feel like I've made a mistake and I've paid for it. The point is not the punishment, but rather the forgiveness and the sense of atonement afterwards." Vixen spoke with a composed attitude, however her eyes wandered around nervously, as if trying to avoid meeting the others’ gazes.

"In that case the dominant is supposed to be attentive in terms of how far the submissive pushes themself. A sub looking for forgiveness is a sub willing to go further than normal, which means that they might inadvertently reach their breaking point — which shall never happen." Lace highlighted.

"The golden rule is to always leave hungry. There is a fine line between satiety and nausea. The moment you overstep and reach nausea is the moment your sub might hurt themself." Vixen said, tight lipped.

Princess nodded. "I'm glad we can have this conversation. It's not something I can quite talk about with my friends since the whole situation with the boys is pretty delicate. I had to close some of those friendships to keep Jimin safe. I realised I couldn't trust some of those people and I'm glad I realised before it was too late."

Vixen’s leg started bouncing. “Same with Joon. I don’t have that many friends in the city, mostly because of the time abroad and the fact that all of the friends I had by now are married and/or with kids. I couldn’t trust many of them, but you —” she said, gesturing towards Lace, “and when I introduced you to Namjoon I told him you were one of the most discreet people in the world, because you value your privacy and other people’s privacy because of your, uhm, lessons.”

“It feels good to have someone to share this burden with. I’m pretty scared of the tour.” Vixen looked down. The poised young woman seemed to crumble, giving space to an insecure little creature. “We’ve been dating since last November, but our relationship hasn’t really begun until late February. To be honest I’m terrified.”

Both Lace and Princess reached out for her.

“I’m scared.”

“Have you told him?”

“Yes, he knows.” Vixen sparked up for a minute. “We talk a lot. He always asks me how I feel about things. Lately I’ve been spending all my time away from work with him. It’s been… maybe three days since I last went back to my apartment. And in the last month or so I’ve slept alone maybe three or four nights. I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s away.” Vixen’s eyes welled up with tears before she smiled classily and recomposed herself. “But that’s not relevant.”

“It is, baby.” Princess rubbed her shoulder. “You have my number. You can reach out to me anytime.”

“I’ll be there too, you know. I know I’m not your Big Bear, but I can cook and I’m an excellent vintage movie marathon partner.” Lace rubbed the other shoulder, catching the few tears that had fallen. This was a further confirmation that Namjoon was the right man for Vixen: he had reached out to Lace a few weeks after they had been introduced, asking her if it was cool if he asked her updates on Vixen during the tour, mostly because he knew she would put up her strong, charming face in front of him, but secretly she would be worrying over his absence. That brought them close; it felt good to create this safety net for Vixen and it felt even better to know her in the hands of a man worthy of her, attentive despite his busy schedule and strong work ethic.

“Thank you, girls. That’s really sweet of you.”

“You’re the one who made this possible,” said Princess, gesturing to the three of them sitting at the table together. “I owe you. And I reckon this is a good time to make amends for not making friends with you in high school.” Princess laughed. “We’ll all need each other. We could have a group chat with Jin’s girlfriend too. Plus Jimin mentioned Yoongi is seeing someone.”

“Yes, Namjoon mentioned too. I’ve heard she’s a lawyer. He’s got this insanely huge crush on her.” Vixen giggled. “I haven’t met her yet but I’ve heard they were supposed to go out tonight.”

“Maybe we’ll see her at the next gathering.” Princess wondered. “I must admit I’m curious.”

“I am too.”

Lace felt a bit out of the conversation. “Me and Taehyung have been texting.”

Vixen blinked and turned to her. “What?” She had this face that read perfect confusion. “How long? And you’ve never told me? I mean, I gave him your number but I didn’t—”

“It’s because I haven’t been really taking him into consideration until recently.” Lace replied. “Normally I would reply to him with small texts, just to avoid sounding rude.”

“You mean to tell me you have Taehyung wrapped around your little finger — Kim Heartthrob Taehyung — and you weren’t even interested? Have you been doing drugs too?” Vixen looked outraged. “Fucking insane.” She shook her head.

“You know me. I value my privacy. Do you know how fucking un-private it is to potentially date that man? What if they find out about my extracurriculars?” Lace pointed out.

Vixen exhaled and formed a tight-lipped smile.

“Don’t give me the disappointed mom look.” Lace replied. “Plus I’m the same age as you, you have no right to turn judgemental.”

“Of course.” Vixen nodded. “Your safety first, love.”

“It’s just that I want to, but I can barely imagine how fucked up that could be.”

Princess breathed out. “Jimin and I have been extremely private about us and me being so close to the press means I am risking so much.” Princess opened her arms wide. “But it would take a catastrophe to take him away from me.”

“Give him a chance. Tell him about everything outright and let him choose. He’ll take his chance. Don’t choose for him.” Vixen pointed out. “That’s how I did with Joon. We talked and clearly said ‘this is what I need and what I can give, can you comply? Are you okay with it?’ It’s a bit of a bet, but I think the prospect of gain outweighs the actual risk of it.”

Lace nodded. “And then there’s the tour.”

Vixen and Princess nodded. Vixen tried to keep her insecurity and jealousy at bait. All those girls drooling over him, all those female staff members travelling with him. She propped her elbows on the table and pressed her forehead against her palms, her lovely hair falling forward.

Princess, sitting beside her, rubbed her back. “What if you just give him one date. Tell him your situation both about your, uhm— hobby and your emotional state. I’m sure he will understand. His emotional intelligence is impressive.” Princess stated, nodding, her hand still rubbing Vixen’s spine.

“He’s the kind of man I would gladly be a sucker for.” Lace explained. “I knew I was a dom since I was eighteen, but Jesus, I know I would sub for him.” Vixen seemed to awaken at that comment. “I’ve seen his stages. He is insane.” Lace bit her lip. “But I need time to trust him. And it would feel useless to get cosy with him only to have him leave for the tour.”

“Just tell him.” Vixen encouraged her. “He will surely work with you on a compromise.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Are you okay?” Lace checked in on Vixen.

“Yup. Just a sudden jealousy rush.”

Lace frowned. “He would never. Don’t worry about that.” Lace cocked her head to the side. “He worships the ground you step on.”

“Girls throw thems—”

“He throws himself at you.” Lace remarked. “Plus he loves you. You love him. That’s all that matters. He gave you the passcode to his house, basically made you move in, what else do you need? I bet he’d gladly handcuff himself to you if you asked kindly enough.” Lace joked.

“Scratch that ‘kindly enough’. He’d cuff himself to you without you even asking.” Princess remarked.

“Can we move back to the BDSM introductory lessons?” Vixen asked, shaking her head, but with a tiny smile on her face.

Lace saw that was a good sign. Princess smiled beside her. “Okay, I’ll go with my request. I know I told you I wanted to get to know more of impact play and if we could focus on that...”

“Yes, I get where you’re headed. Let’s get it. But we’ll need a clean table for this.” Lace explained.

“Let’s do this.” Princess stood up from the table, beginning to clean up everything. It took the girls only a couple minutes to get rid of dirty dishes, empty boxes, the glasses and the soju. Even the fruit basket the guests had bought was moved on the kitchen counter.

“Do you have any sanitizer, perhaps?” Lace asked.

“Isn’t it better if we move to the sofa?” Suggested Vixen. “Use the coffee table?”

Princess shrugged. “Same to me.”

Lace nodded convincedly. “Let’s prep the coffee table. Sorry for the main table.”

Princess shrugged. “Needed to clean it anyways.”

A few minutes later the girls were all sitting around the coffee table, Lace’s bag placed at her side while Vixen occupied her other side, Princess sitting in front of them.

“Let’s do an impact play in depth analysis. What you need is one — a dom, two — a sub, three — optional, — supplies.” Lace listed. “Let’s go a bit at a time. First, the dom. A dom must be sober, lucid. No alcohol, drugs, and most importantly, no impulsive, instinctual emotions. If you’re furious, don’t go there. Violent emotions can cloud your judgement. Don’t let those lead you. Of course you might be angry or aroused, but that must not take the lead. If your anger makes you want to give them fifty spanks, but normally your sub can take twenty, you can negotiate maybe twenty-five. Be judicious, never hungry.”

“Good.” Said Princess, focusing on every single one of Lace’s words.

“Once you’re sure you’re in a coherent, calm mindset, you should negotiate with your sub. Remember: safe, sane, consensual. Safe, in this case, involves that your supplies are clean and cannot hurt your sub, both in terms of cleanliness and state of use. Check for loose threads, scratches on leather that could possibly host bacteria or dirt, splinters in case of wooden devices, porous surfaces. We’ll talk about this more accurately in the supplies section. Sane means to check your mindset and your sub’s mindset. Same rules as before: no alcohol, drugs, violent emotions.”

Vixen made eye contact with Lace, silently requesting permission to speak. “Small note on that, may I?”

Lace nodded.

“Your sub might come to you while being emotionally unstable. They might need you for comfort or atonement. Make sure to heal that emotionally before dealing with it sexually. It means to discuss what caused the upset state of mind in order to identify the real entity of the problem, correct the perception of it and negotiate the atonement.”

“Excellent point.” Replied Lace.

Vixen smiled cutely.

“Can I have an example?” Asked Princess with a frown.

“Of course. Let’s say I fucked up at work, I booked the wrong artwork and the artwork they wanted is no longer available. I manage to find an alternative but I somehow feel like I let down my client. I go home and I am scolding myself because I didn’t deliver what was asked of me. My dom may spot my disappointment or may recognise self-punishment. Also, I might explicitly tell my dom I am not feeling well due to a sense of guilt. This leads to my dom asking me why I am upset or why I am punishing myself. I — along other perfectionists like Jimin — tend to overestimate my mistakes, making them a bigger deal than what they actually are. My dom corrects my perspective through objective analysis, underlines my successful abilities in dealing with the issue and suggests potential improvements on those things I didn’t manage to solve. Perfectionists have a strict inner judge that scolds them and punishes them. Therefore their psych is divided into victim and punisher. This fracture obviously causes discomfort. The dom’s goal is to heal this fracture, especially since the perfectionist’s “punisher” side — so to say — is very strict and usually overestimates the damage and subsequently overestimates the punishment. After correcting the perception of the mistake, the dom gives an appropriate price for atonement.”

“So the goal is to stop the guilt trip mechanism?” Princess asked.

“Yes.” Vixen confirmed. “But this is just one kind of spanking. There are other cases. It can be educational or simply sexual. Educational is when the dom corrects the sub’s behaviour because they violated a rule or an order. In that case it’s mostly dom-initiated—”

“Unless the sub willingly misbehaved to earn a punishment.” Lace added.

“That sounds Jimin.” Princess commented, rubbing her forehead.

Vixen smiled widely.

“That’s not funny, you brat!” Lace scolded her.

“When you find your sub willingly misbehaving, you should talk to them very clearly. Usually they do it to attract attention. Ignoring them might hurt them or bring them to further misbehaviour, which can turn dangerous. I normally recommend conversation.” Lace explained. “Pay attention to them and ask why they broke the rule, what they were trying to get out of it. You can give them the punishment they were asking for — for example if your sub disobeyed because it earns them spanks and they like spanks, you can either give them spanks or punish them with something that they really don’t like, for example edging.”

Princess nodded. “That’s interesting, thank you.”

“Any remark, Vixen?”

She shrugged. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What about sexual spanks?” Princess questioned.

“Those can be incorporated into foreplay. Some people are simply aroused by pain.” Vixen shrugged. “It puts the sub into a vulnerable position, and it underlines a power imbalance. It makes the sub feel smaller, powerless — or almost so — and sometimes humiliated.” Vixen explained.

“Exactly. I would add that it stimulates the circulation of blood to the pelvis region, which means that skin is more sensitive, arousal increases and the whole perception intensifies. It builds trust and sometimes, according to personal history of each sub, it can send them back to childhood memories, mimicking the power imbalance between child and adult who disciplined them. It has strong disciplinary and educational value, back to the punishment scene.”

“Oh, about punishment!” Vixen exclaimed. “We forgot the most important part of it all. But it refers to all sorts of spanking, to be true. Negotiation. Once you have identified the fault, tell your sub how many hits there will be, how you will deliver them and with which instrument, which position they will have to assume. Repeat safewords. Make sure that they agree fully to every detail of the spanking. If they do not agree to some parts, ask to find a compromise, a middle ground between your and their needs. Once you have the green light, you can talk your sub through the whole experience as the scene actually develops. Once you are done with the scene, say a code phrase that means that the scene has finished.”

“Okay, me and Jimin did this stuff our first time trying this.” Princess confirmed.

“Wonderful. Was it a positive experience? Did you have any uncertainties, questions?”

“It was a very positive experience, both in mine and his opinion. We talked it out the morning after, since I preferred to have some time to elaborate my personal feelings about the scene”

“That’s okay. As a dom you can experience mixed feelings, especially after a first scene, with activities that are usually misjudged by society”. Lace explained, gently patting Princess’ hand on top of the table.

“I think that Jimin’s positive reaction and guidance helped me feeling positive about the whole scene. He was truly supportive through all of it.” Princess smiled softly.

“That’s a good partner. Both for life and for play”. Lace smiled herself, glad that Princess’ first experience went well.

“There were very deep emotions of care and support and love during the whole scene. A kind of affection and vulnerability I had never experienced with anyone else. I hope I can go there again with him, but next time I want to be more reliable and secure and experienced. I thought that a general introduction, especially about supplies, could help me, since Jimin was interested in that.”

“Okay, let’s just finish the general intro. We were saying safe, sane and consensual. Safe means toys, safewords and aftercare supplies. Sane means both parties know what they’re doing, the dom is aware of the sub’s mental space. Consensual means negotiation about number of blows, technique, position and eventually toys. Make sure that your sub always knows about the motive of the spanking. The natural response, especially to pain, is ‘why’. Make sure they know. Eventually, remind them. Once more remind them of safewords and the final sentence.”

“Do not ever stop unless they safeword.” Vixen said. “If they repeatedly tell you to stop, remind them they have their safewords if they want to. As a sub I’ve said both ‘stop’ and ‘why’ at least a hundred time during a spanking. ‘Stop’ and similar are pretty recurrent. Just say ‘You know your safeword, love’. If they really need them, they will use them, trust me. Just remind them all the time. You could maybe need to slow down, make sure that they aren’t panicking and they do actually remember their words.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Lace confirmed before turning to Vixen. “Have you been studying?” She joked.

“I’ve been reading lately.” Vixen confirmed, with a very happy smile on her face.

Lace mirrored her expression. She knew Vixen had been pushed into quitting BDSM activities by her ex boyfriend. Knowing that she was finally back to something she liked, something she was comfortable with made her happy. “I’m glad you’re back on track, sweetie.”

“Thank you.” Vixen closed the small exchange with Lace.

“Once a scene is closed, your sub might have different responses. They might ask to be left alone. In that case, make sure that healing supplies are ready for their self care. Remind them to check for abrasions. If the skin is damaged on a surface level — that means it is not only bruised, but also broken — you will need disinfectant and probably band aids.” Lace explained.

“But that happens rarely, right?” Vixen asked.

“With average spanking, that is quite rare. Normally you need specific instruments specifically meant to cause abrasions.”

“Like canes and spiked toys?”

“Yes, but not only those. I’ve seen pretty heavy damage caused by an apparently regular flogger.” Lace commented, shuddering at the memory.

Vixen blinked, a bit shocked. “Okay, back to aftercare.”

“Yeah,” said Princess, exhaling and looking away.

“So, unless your sub wants you to leave, you stay around. Provide for them. Rub lotion first. Some subs store specific lotion for this kind of stuff. To ease the burn, the sting, or lessen the bruises.”

Vixen interrupted. “I must say, most of us like the bruises and the reminder-sting, so they don’t really do much about it. Still, it depends on how far you’ve gone and how the sub feels. Usually, my favourites are a cold cloth, lotion and if I went particularly far maybe a painkiller. Normally herbal lotion and muscle relaxant are an excellent solution. They’re softer and safer, especially since you never know how a sub might react to medicines. As usual, make sure that whatever you use on them is safe. Let them prepare their usual medication. Make sure you have plenty of time to ascertain that they are emotionally stable. Do not leave them alone unless they request so, and tendentially it is good etiquette to stay in proximity, in case they change their mind.”

“Thank you so much for all the head ups.” Princess said, true gratitude shining all over her face. “I feel more comfortable knowing that we followed those lines during the first time too. It’s not something absurd. Youjust really need to use your common sense.”

Vixen nodded. “Being smart sure helps, but it’s not everything. You can only truly learn it by making it a routine.”

“You mean practice?” Princess questioned.

Lace nodded. “Yes. Once you actually start practicing, you’ll immediately find out your forte and potential weaknesses. Be comfortable with those: you can ask us or look it up on the guide, or on BDSM blogs. I can send you reliable sources, if need be. I would say you can reach out to my dungeon, it is a safe and discreet environment, but I fully understand your position, and I get that you might prefer to have a private approach to this. You can eventually book personal appointments with an expert. Those normally include non-disclosure agreements and Jimin could be protected from the public eye, as far as it can go.” Lace explained. “We have had many, many clients who have requested so. It would be perfectly normal.”

Princess thought about it and nodded. “I’ll discuss it with Jimin.”

“Perfect. As you can see the key to this is communication.”

“Indeed.” Confirmed Princess.

“Now, let’s get down to the actual business.” Lace opened the bag but left all the contents inside. “Impact play can happen on different parts of the body. Vixen?” Lace called.

Vixen stood up gingerly.

“Tie your hair, doll.” Lace reminded her.

The woman fished a ribbon from her pocket and did a soft ponytail.

“Good. I’ll show you.” Lace fished out a long, silky bag from her weekender; untying the ribbon, she pushed her hand in and extracted a long stick. A cane, Princess corrected herself.

Lace didn’t pay much attention. Its purpose was that of a pointing stick at that moment. “Number one, the derrière.” Vixen turned and Lace let the wooden instrument hover over the girl’s ass. “You know what to do to hit here?”

“Find the tailbone and place your non-dominant hand over it to protect it. Alternate sides, rub between a spank and another. Hit the lower region, far from the nerves up high. Where the flesh swells, that’s where I can hit. Also the back of the thighs.”

“Excellent. That’s all.” Lace congratulated. “Other spots are the back of the legs, more precisely the back of the knees and the calves. However, knees are delicate, so you can only deliver delicate blows with a restricted selection of toys. I would not recommend it. The back of the calves also offer a limited selection of toys, but it is slightly safer to go there. Still, the surface is limited and the knees and ankles are close. The risk of missing your target is high. Since you’re a beginner I would not go there.”

Princess nodded. “What kind of toys can I use?”

“We’ll cover that later. For now let’s just run through anatomy.” Lace answered calmly. “Are you good, Vixen?”

“Yup.” The other replied.

“Perfect. Turn to your side profile.” Lace asked and Vixen quickly provided.

Lace pressed the cane in a line connecting the peaks of each of Vixen’s glutes. “From here—” she moved all the way down to her mid thighs “— to here it’s good. The peak to the midthigh.”

“Great. Got it.” Princess replied. “There are other places? Like…?”

“Would you like to talk?” Lace asked Vixen. “You're the expert.”

“May I?” She asked.

“Of course, sweetie. You’re the expert in this.”

Princess raised an eyebrow at the comment, but still she stayed focused. To say she was intrigued was a big understatement.

Vixen’s sweet voice began speaking. “Other than the backside, as we’ve just mentioned, there are other spots that can be involved in impact play. While the back of the thighs and the butt can stand harsher beatings with almost all toys intended for impact play, other areas are more sensitive, more delicate or consist in a smaller expanse of skin, therefore they shall be treated differently. Both the palms and the back of the hands, just like the soles of the feet can be involved, especially when matched with instruments with a smaller surface of beating, like a slapper, a riding crop and a cane — for example. They shall be treated lightly, since they have lots of nerve endings, bones and tendons exposed.”

“What’s a leather strap?” Princess asked.

Lace lifted a finger as a sign to wait, before digging her other hand in her bag and extracting a small device, of maybe twentyish centimetres of length and five or six of width; she placed it on the table to let Princess observe it. “Handle and slappers.” She pointed. “Very noisy, actually pretty innocuous. The leather bits slap against each other and create a single impact that sounds like a double.”

“It sounds scary, though.” Vixen noted. It always made her blood curl in her veins, the heavy smack turning into a torturous feel as the hit didn’t match the noise. Fear worked, but the sensation didn’t. It was not something she liked, usually.

Lace nodded. “I haven’t used it much. Usually people like the cane on the back of the hands. Because of old school punishments.” Lace explained.

“Right. Thanks.” Princess nodded.

Vixen waited for a sign before moving on. Once she had both women’s attention, she proceeded. ”Thighs are generally all good, if they’re fleshy and plump enough. Make sure that you don’t go too hard when hitting close to private parts. While a vulva can handle a fair bit, the penis is generally more delicate in the structure. Thighs can handle all toys, just like the ass. Paddles, slappers, straps, riding crops, whips and canes. For private parts I recommend the riding crop.” Vixen smiled politely.

Princess interrupted. “The strap is that kind of… like?” She gestured a long and thin rectangle with her hands, looking for words.

“It looks like a belt bent in two, with a handle. Maybe I have it…” She rummaged in her bag. “No. Sorry. I think I left it at home.”

Princess waved her hands. “Don’t worry, that’s okay, I think I visualised it pretty well.” She smiled. “There’s more?” Princess said, marvelled as Vixen began talking again.

“Well, yes. Oh, first a small warning — before I forget. You must absolutely stay away from the belly and the stomach. Same for the lower back.” Vixen showed the various spots on her body with precise gestures of her hands. “Too many vulnerable organs left unprotected there.” She took a small pause and then moved on.

“Some people can handle hits on their shoulders and upper back, where the internal organs are protected by the ribcage and other bone structures; however I would talk with a professional about that kind of scene since you need to flawlessly master advanced equipment — people tendentially use whips and similar, or the strap.” Vixen stopped for a second, looking at Lace as if asking whether she had anything more to ask. Lace shook her head, inviting the other woman to proceed.

“Now, about delicate parts: some people like being slapped in the face, but then again, that must be clearly stated in the negotiations. I’d say you should only use hands, but maybe I’m projecting.”

“In four years, I’ve only used and seen other use hands. Also, riding crops, but usually that’s just to direct head movements or to pat the face, rather than slapping it.”

Vixen nodded. “Great. About interesting stuff, nipples can be gently stimulated with small, very delicate pats. Riding crops are excellent for this use. Also slappers. Maybe canes in some cases.” — Lace did a so-and-so motion with her head. Vixen continued, — “Some people can go very hard on nipples and technically — just like with the butt — women who have bigger breasts can stand more intense stimulation”.

“Oh, that yes. You can use, as usual, riding crops, but also paddles, straps and whips — if you’re experienced.” Lace added.

Princess nodded with an interested expression. She could mention that to Jimin. Imagining him with a riding crop, standing at the side of the bed, rubbing the leather bit against her nipples before whipping them harshly had her losing focus for a second, taking in a big breath and biting her lip.

Vixen grinned. She could practically read the other woman’s thoughts. “For women with smaller breasts and men, I would say to stay on the more gentle side for the first few sessions and eventually — once you know each other and once you know your sub’s pain threshold — you can get more heavy-handed, so to say. As I said before female private parts can handle pretty harsh whippings, especially since arousal tends to make the labia plumper and therefore protect the skin better. Still, you should start slow and work your way up. Male crotch area is a lot more delicate, however the shaft can take a medium-intense whipping. I recommend riding crops and small leather straps.”

Lace raised her eyebrows at Vixen with a proud grin. “Nothing to add. This should be all.”

“Wow.” Princess was a bit excited. If Jimin had looked that good with a few spanks, she could only imagine what he would do once she got more experienced and learned what actually drove him crazy.

“That’s a lot of stuff, I know.” Lace reassured her.

“I’m actually excited. Like, it sounds very interesting. There’s a lot of trust and knowing each other. I really like that. I think it brings the partners very close.”

Vixen nodded. “It does.”

Princess bit her lip. “I don’t want to pry but… Do you do all of that?” She looked at Vixen with a slight blush.

The woman giggled. “Not anymore, no.” She took a meditative pause, like she was reminiscing something. It felt strange that a girl so young could feel so old every now and then. That dark cloud that obscured Vixen’s doll-like traits disappeared, leaving only a fond grin in tow. “Now I do the bits I like best.” She grinned.

Lace looked at her with a bit of worry before smiling again.

“Before we actually start with tools I need to make sure that you know all you need about aftercare and drops.” Lace said seriously.

“Yes, please.” Princess said. “May I recap what we said about aftercare?”

“Yes, sure.” Lace invited her.

“Prepare the stuff before. Check for abrasions: if there are, then disinfectant and band aids. Next cold cloth, lotion and eventually painskiller. Use medicines that my sub takes regularly. Make sure that they’re okay emotionally. If they want me to leave, I do, but I stay close.”

“Amazing. Quick learner.” Lace cheered.

“Those were also in the book.” Princess commented, diminishing her feat. “Plus I did it already. Sort of.”

“I’ve seen people take weeks to put all of that together. You did a good job, stop doubting yourself.” Lace corrected her. God, these two insecure creatures would be the death of her.

“Aftercare is not only physical, but mostly emotional. If your sub wants you close, cuddle them. Jimin looks like the type to want cuddles and reassurance afterwards. Make sure you give plenty. Would you like to explain the drop Vixen?”

“Yes, of course.” Vixen intervened before addressing Princess. “I always like to talk about this subject because it can affect anyone, without any need to get involved in BDSM. ًWhen experiencing an orgasm, our bodies produce an incredible quantity of hormones that make us literally ecstatic. What happens sometimes, especially after long or intense scenes is that our bodies get high on these hormones, experiencing a sense of withdrawal once the rush is over. Such withdrawal, so to say, can cause pretty intense sadness that can lead to numbness, indifference, or even hate and depressive or aggressive behaviours. A good way to slow down this sadness is providing the body with other hormones that usually calm us and relax us. Cuddles and sugars usually are a good way to help the body produce oxytocin — commonly named ‘the hormone of happiness’. It’s the same hormone that spikes when mothers are breastfeeding their babies.” Vixen smiled fondly.

“This is incredible.” Princess said, completely amused. “So cuddles heal both the sub and the dom, I assume.”

“I think so, yes. Usually I’m the cuddler while Joon is the cuddlee during aftercare. Both subs and doms can experience the drop since both suffer the shift in hormones. It’s really about mutual care. Usually though, there are people who suffer more.” Vixen commented.

Lace spoke shyly. “Once I went so hard on a sub that I felt awful with myself after the scene was done.” Lace said. The silence felt heavy, like in some part of her mind Lace was still seeing that scene. “Usually the dom is expected to give the sub water, sweets and a cozy blanket — water for the body fluids, sweets for rebalancing the sugars after an intense effort and the blanket for emotional safety. I remember that one time the sub used the aftercare kit on me. It took me almost an hour to get back on a neutral state of mind.” It was Lace’s turn to be comforted. As Vixen rubbed her friend’s back, Princess spoke.

“So I might experience guilt and sadness afterwards and that’s normal?”

As Lace was still thinking, Vixen spoke up. “It happens, though usually, if your partner reassures you and supports you properly, you should be able to deal with it together with quite some ease. I myself have shouted slurs at my dom in the past during punishment, but that is because pain or anger make you do that. I may have sent him into a drop once, and since that time I always make sure that I praise and cuddle my dom once the scene is over. It’s important that you remind yourself that what is said during an intense scene is due to the sub’s sensations in that moment, therefore you shouldn’t give it much importance. Still, once you have your post-session chat you have every right to say ‘that hurt me, please don’t do that again’. It’s etiquette.” Vixen said with a serious note.

Princess nodded. “So cuddles, water, sweets and a good comfort blanket.”

“Normally, yes.” Vixen replied. “Sometimes shower or bath together, wash your partner clean or have them wash you. For some people physical cleanliness is also spiritual cleanliness. It eases the mind from whatever ‘dirty thing’ you’ve done during the scene. The rest is really what you would normally do during self-care, but with your sub. Facemask? Junk food? Lotion? Massage? Tea? Whatever you like as long as you do it with affection.”

Princess nodded. “This is really helpful. I just need to do anything that Jimin likes, and do it with him.”

“Yes, if he wants you close — which I assume he does, knowing the two of you.” Vixen smiled.

Lace added her own contribution. “If possible, remember to schedule a post-session chat. Whenever it feels comfortable. Normally you wait until all parties have fully recovered before saying ‘let’s talk about it together’, but some subs are already okay talking about it during aftercare. Just make sure that you know how your sub felt about the stuff that you did together, and that you tell them how you felt yourself. This is not one-sided. Power imbalance is limited to the scene: once you’re done, You’re equal again — that’s why a final sentence is necessary. It breaks the power imbalance and repristinates equality. All parties are equally entitled to support and communication.” Lace said, making sure that Princess grasped the concept. That’s where most couples went wrong: communicating.

“Thank you girls.” Princess said gently. “Thank you for the insights, and for your personal experiences.”

“You’re welcome.” Lace said heartily before grinning. “Now, let’s discuss supplies.”

Vixen cheered with a small ‘yes’ at which Lace replied murmuring ‘painslut’, chuckling playfully.

“Let’s start with these.” Lace showed her hands, letting the sleeves of her shirt fall a little, exposing her wrists. “These are your main instruments.” She showed the palms, then the backs. “You can use them everywhere. You can use your whole palm, flat, for a sting and cupped for a thud.”

“What’s that?” Princess asked.

“Vixen.” Lace called.

“A sting is when it prickles and bites, a thud is when it reverberates and goes deeper. You go with a quick, fleeting swat when you go for a sting—the palm must be flat and there must be a bit of wrist game. To deliver a thud, you should let your hand cup slightly and hit hard, keeping your hand pressed where you hit. It’s a matter of angle and speed.” Vixen replied readily, as if she were being asked what is two and two.

Princess grinned and nodded. “I see. Jimin mentioned something about it, but I don’t remember clearly. Which one hurts the most?” Princess asked Vixen.

“Well, it depends. It’s a different kind of pain and it depends on one’s sensitivity. Personally I prefer thuds, because usually it’s the muscle taking most of the impact, in case of traditional, over-the-knee butt spankings. Stings make my eyes water a little, because it hits a smaller area of skin with more pressure. But it really depends on what your sub feels.”

“It is all in the way it is delivered.” Lace stated.

Vixen bit her lip, nodding, and moved on.

“Hands can be also used to slap the face, as we said,— that should be especially clarified during negotiation — but also nipples and genitalia. Also, thighs, calves, hands and feet — though in some cases they might be too mild. Always remember that it is good manners to try the toys on yourself first, especially if it’s a toy you’ve never used before. Get familiar with its weight and density and grip, so you know how it affects you before affecting your sub. Make sure to start slow and eventually intensify, always asking your sub if they’re okay in the first place. Be careful with your sub’s pain threshold: since you don’t have direct perception of how much you’re hurting them, try to increase force and pattern a bit at a time.” Lace explained.

Princess felt sure about the directions. Common sense and the guide told her the same things, which reassured her about the fact that she would remember all the complicated passages. Sure, it would be easier to have an actual practical exercise.

But for now she would make do.

“You ready for the next?”

“Yes.” Vixen replied.

Lace tutted. “The question was not meant for you, menace.” She said, reprimanding a grinning Vixen.

Princess cackled. “Sure.”

Lace picked up another object from her bag. “Here we have a paddle. It can have different shapes and textures. Some contain small indentations, or even spikes. The main features are the handle.” She showed the part. “And a flat surface, used to hit the sub. In terms of tenacity and resistance, mine has a hardwood interior covered in a leather exterior. Oh, and it’s branded.” She showed a red leather heart sewn onto the black leather cover. “It leaves a mark.” Lace smiled cutely. “Best used on wide, fleshy surfaces. Questions?”

Princess shook her head. “Oh, yeah. How much is it?”

Lace twisted the object in her hands. “A good one is around thirty five thousand won or so. If you want something that lasts and that is actually covered in true leather, the price might be higher. I could recommend a shop that sells excellent gear.”

“Thank you. Also, you said it comes in different shapes.”

“Yes. A dom in my dungeon has a pretty extravagant one in a cherry shape.”

“With a double sting?” Vixen asks, eyes almost glittering.

“Yup.”

“Amazing. I had spotted it once but I never bought it. Maybe I’ll have it commissioned.” She mused.

“Joon would?” Lace asked, eyebrows raised.

Vixen shrugged. “I just need to be good — or bad — enough.”

“See, darling, this is a brat.” Lace addressed Princess, pointing at the other girl in the room. “Their anatomy is five percent manners, five percent playfulness and ninety percent utterly smart evil.”

Vixen smiled before cocking her head to the side prettily. “Yes, that’s me.”

Princess bit her lip and smiled. Vixen was a lot more interesting than she thought. All those cute manners and polished looks could not entirely shade the dark magnetism of her eyes. She would pay good money to see what ruckus she could cause with Namjoon in the bedroom. And it would be even more interesting to see what poised, calm Lace could do to teach her how to behave.

Lace put her paddle down before fishing something else from inside her bag. “For tonight let’s cover only the basics. I’ll keep more lowkey devices for another time. Or maybe I could show you what I have and you ask me about what looks interesting to you.”

Princess nodded. “That would be lovely. Plus I’m sure you’ll have to get back to Joon since he’ll want to see you before they leave tomorrow.” Princess asked Vixen.

“I don’t know if I’ll see him— oh, that one looks lovely!” She said, looking at a riding crop from Lace’s collection and distracting herself with it. “Yeah, I told him he should stay at the dorms and rest. His week has been hectic with all the briefings for the press conferences and tv shows.” Vixen explained as she picked up the crop, studying the red, heart-shaped bit.

“Yeah, I figure. Jimin and I are meeting for an early breakfast tomorrow, before they leave.” Princess explained.

Vixen’s fleeting gaze moved away. She seemed visibly unsettled. Still, her mood changed once more as she collected Lace’s paddle from the coffee table, the other woman not even noticing one of her devices had attracted Vixen’s attention.

Vixen rolled it in her palm a couple times, shifting it to feel the weight distribution and the texture.

Princess looked at how she studied the object, carefully taking in every detail. Vixen’s perfectionism showed in that exact moment, in the undisturbed, slow way she felt every ridge and stitch with her fingers. If she could think of an adjective it was ‘thorough’, in the first place. ‘Sensual’ in the second.

Raising an eyebrow and biting her lip, Vixen opened her free hand, lifted the paddle and delivered a heavy thwack.

A shiver ran down Princess’s spine. She could almost feel how Jimin would moan after a smack like that.

Lace turned around, looking at Vixen. “Like it?”

Vixen simply nodded with a wicked smile. “Do you know what wood it is?”

“Not sure, possibly birch or cherry tree. Soft wood but very elastic.” Lace sat upright as she was done taking out all of her collection.

“And the leather is splinter-proof.” Vixen commented.

Lace hummed in confirmation. “See anything interesting, Princess?”

Princess creased her brow. “What about the riding crop?”

Vixen smiled mischievously as Lace wrapped her palm around the handle, lifting the object. “Here. This is a personal riding crop. It has been commissioned specifically for me. It’s my favourite and somehow my brand.” She smiled fondly as she studied it. “However, I would say one should never grow fond of a vulnerable thing such as a riding crop. They break fairly easily. Anyway — the general traits of a riding crop are the shaft, the handle and the tip. In terms of length, I normally recommend minimum sixty centimeters, to increase flexibility and impact strength. The shaft should be elastic, but not too much or it loses impact strength and a submissive usually doesn’t want the whoosh without the smash.”

Vixen giggled at her side.

“What is that?” Princess asked, frowning.

Opening her palm, Lace calculated the distance and whipped the leather bit hard against the soft flesh at the base of the thumb. Princess clearly recognised the sound of air whistling before she hit her skin with a thin clap. “That’s what I meant.”

Princess nodded with eager eyes, keeping an amused silence.

“Fiberglass is a good material for beginners. If you’re buying one in person — which I recommend for the first time — make sure that it can make a forty-five degree angle when you bend the tip towards the handle. A forty to fifty degrees with a fair amount of resistance means it’s flexible enough, just make sure that it’s not too close to the breaking point. The handle is normally made of leather or very good rubber to improve the grip. Some cheap riding crops — also, the ones not intended for BDSM purposes — come with a strap to slip your wrist into. I recommend you don’t use the strap or that you remove it completely because first, you shouldn’t need it and second, you should avoid everything that keeps you from interrupting the scene and comforting your sub as quickly as possible. Sometimes even a couple seconds can be very important when it comes to subdrop. Remember this at all time, in all scenes. Remove everything that could keep you from helping your sub.”

“Okay. But if my riding crop falls?”

Lace smiled darkly. “Trust me dear, you’ll hold on to that as if it were the sceptre of England.” Princess laughed. “And if it falls, it’s usually a sign of poor mastering of your tools. Train yourself. You can use a dense pillow to learn the variety of strokes that a crop can deliver. It can be used for sensation play, simply rubbing your sub’s skin, caressing it, spending some time to arouse them before the whipping starts—”

Vixen purred at that.

Princess thought of Jimin biting his plump lips, eyelids fluttering at the gentle touch of the leather tickling his body.

“Are you with me?” Lace called for Princess’ attention, an amused grin on her face. Lace almost wanted to congratulate her for staying focused for so long.

“Yeah, just — thinking.”

Lace exhaled and wore a grin on her face. “I get that. Let me just finish this and we can take a pause. The tip is the important part of the crop. Mine has a fancy, heart-shaped tip, however, the best standard ones have triangular or rectangular tips that are a couple fingers wide on the very tip and restrict around the head of the stick.”

“Sounds nice.” Princess said.

“It is.” Vixen mused. “As Lace said, riding crops aren’t excessively difficult to use, if one has the patience to learn the basics and take some time to experiment. They can offer plenty of freedom to the dom in terms of use since they can be incredibly harsh, but also extremely light and gentle. You can use them on most spanking areas: breasts and nipples, feet, thighs, ass, shoulders and genitals, both male and female. Also the face, if you’re being light-handed enough.”

“Jesus, you’re wicked.” Lace snickered.

Vixen shrugged. “Says you.”

Princess looked at the exchange quite amused. “Okay. I think I got it. Oh, isn’t that a flogger?”

“Yes, it is. But that is for your sophomore lessons. For now, let’s stick to the beginner deals.” Lace said, slowing down Princess’ enthusiasm.

“Oh.” The other answered, taken aback.

“The bigger the toy, the more difficult it is to use it. Floggers, also called multi-tailed whips, are unpredictable because the whips are really flexible, usually made of leather, and very light. You must have excellent wrist flexibility and great spatial awareness. Once you can use your crop with your eyes closed, then you can consider learning the basics of flogging.”

“Okay. I assume canes and that fancy thing over there are off-limit too.” Princess noticed.

“Isn’t that a cat-o-nine-tales?” Vixen said, wide eyed. “It’s been years since I last saw one. Since my training.” Vixen shivered. “He had silver studs on the tips.”

“Did he ever use it on you?” Lace asked, very serious.

“Once. I didn’t speak to him for a week afterwards.” Vixen said, gaze empty. “I’ve never seen one like that in my life, though. Are those flowers?”

“Yes.They have a silver bead in the middle with some petals around it. The effect is very unusual, or so I’ve been told.” Lace answered with a chuckle. “It was a gift from one of my students. Lovely girl. Kinkier than hell.” Lace smiled and took the toy. “See. Those are meant to hurt. Mark or scar even, in some cases.” She showed the appendage to Princess.

“I don’t like that.” She replied with tiny hesitance.

“The cane is also a vicious one.” Lace suggested.

“The first time I safeworded was with a cane.” Vixen said with a meditative smile. “It hurts like hell. Normally I can take around forty to fifty spanks. I couldn’t handle ten with a cane.”

“I don’t think I like that either. My favourite so far are the paddle and the riding crop. I think Jimin likes the paddle, or at least the idea of it. The riding crop is… for personal reasons.”

“Excellent choice.” Lace grabbed a glass of water and drank, easing her mouth and throat after all the talking. “A riding crop can really gratify a dom at their first experience. You can study it, if you want to.” Lace encouraged Princess to hold the toy and look at it from up close.

Princess thanked her before lifting the crop from the table. “It’s very light.”

“Indeed. It’s a lot lighter than a paddle, that’s why it’s a personal favourite to most female doms. Plus it can be used to praise and to punish, making it a tool of great versatility.”

Princess studied the handle, with a thick leather band wrapped around the stick to grant a good grip. Lace, previously standing, bent down behind Princess. “The leather has been treated so to reduce any slipping.” She corrected Princess’ grip around the handle, placing her hand wrapped tight around it and fixing her thumb. “Like this.” Next, she placed the tip on the flat of the opposite hand. “Always make sure that there are no loose stitches here. Make sure that the spot where the tip meets the stick isn’t rough or hard or juts out in a way that could cut the skin.” She fingered the spot, tracing it. “Also remember to check the flexibility, see?” Lace made Princess’ fingers wrap around that spot, making her push it towards the butt of the handle. The sensation was extremely elastic, with a bit of give still, but far more resistance. “That is good elasticity for a versatile crop. Try it on your forearm.” She suggested, pushing Princess’ shirt upwards.

A bit hesitant, Princess lifted her dominant arm up. Lace corrected her stance, repositioning her elbow. “You only need to do a slight rotation of your forearm for now. Keep your elbow still and smack your forearm down, like you were arm wrestling but with more snap.”

Princess nodded, her eyes closing before she let her arm snap. First she heard the ‘whoosh’ of the stick cut through the air, and then the snapping sound, like a dry cracking.

“Good one. Did it hurt?”

Princess tutted. “Not too bad. The bite was pleasing.”

The sound awakened Vixen from her trance. She had been staring at the paddle for a few minutes, thinking.

“Try using it feather-light now. Like it was a make-up brush on your skin.” Lace placed the tip of the crop on Princess skin with the lightest pressure, the touch so soft that the tip didn’t even bend a little to accommodate the skin. It was simply lingering, grazing.

“I really like it. I think I’d love to own one.” Princess said enthusiastically. “Would you come with me if I go buy one?” She looked up to her friend.

“Yes, sure. You have my number, we can arrange someday this week, or whenever you like it.” Lace smiled genuinely. Her cheeks puffed up in round apples.

“I think you should check on Vixen.” She whispered.

The girl was being too quiet. It meant she was thinking. Overthinking, if Lace knew her friend well.

“Are you okay?” Lace moved towards Vixen, looking at her vacant stare, her skittish mood and the insecure nibbling on her lower lip.

“Yeah, I was just thinking...” Vixen replied, still unfocused from her surroundings. “I don’t know if Princess is okay with this. It’s her home, after all.”

“What is it?” Asked the other one, immediately alarmed.

“Would it be awkward if we tried a small simulation? Not a scene, just an exercise. For practice.” Vixen proposed. “If you’re all okay with it.”

Lace studied Vixen’s expression. “What about Namjoon?”

“I could ask him. I think he’s awake, I’ll text him. Ask him if it’s okay with him. This is nothing sexual. It’s just for learning purposes.” Vixen shrugged.

A part of Princess’ brain was already seeing it happen, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “If it’s not too much of a bother, I think it would be really helpful to me if you and Lace tried. I don’t think I want to do it myself, but I’d like to watch.” She admitted.

“Are you in the right mindset to do this, sweetie?” Lace asked. “You’ve been on mood swings the whole night. Are you sure?” Lace asked, seriously concerned.

“Yes, I’m sure. Trust me,” Vixen said, reassuring her friend with a kind smile. “I just need to ask Joon.”

Lace thought about it. Doing such a thing with Vixen of course could be extremely helpful to Princess, showing her how a scene worked, however Vixen’s mood swings suggested that she was looking for reassurance, that she was hoping someone would literally spank her negative thoughts out of her. She probably wanted Namjoon instead of Lace, but maybe this mechanism of simulation and education was what she needed to rein in her insecurities. Vixen was a smart woman, extremely aware of her emotions and the mechanisms to handle them. Lace decided. “Okay. Call him.”

“Let me grab my purse, then.” Vixen stood up and reached for her phone at the dining table. “Thank you”, she said to Lace before unlocking her phone and finding Namjoon’s number on her shortcuts.

“Put it on speaker.” Lace told her.

The three women waited expectantly as the ringing echoed through the small room — Lace with cold ice settling in her veins, Princess with ebullient anticipation and curiosity, Vixen with a certain emptiness in her gaze, her free hand toying with the small pendant laying between her collarbones while she rubbed the flat of her upper chest.

The ringing stopped, followed by a couple seconds of silence.

“Hello?”

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

Part two here

#bts blog #the Girlfriends #introducing the girlfriends #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fic #Bts smut #bangtan smut #Introducing vixen #introducing princess #Introducing lace #namjoon x reader #namjoon x vixen #jimin x reader #Jimin x princess #taehyung x reader #taehyung x lace #bts fanfiction

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skullsandwineglasses · 3 years

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Awu - A coping character

Like a lot of people, my immediate reaction after watching episodes 59-63 was dissatisfaction and frustration. It seemed like Awu was a passive character. I still think she is passive, but that’s not necessarily a flaw or something that we should fault her about. This is going to be a helluva long post, but let me try to explain.

Awu is what you would call a “coping” character. She copes with obstacles thrown at her. She reacts to the machinations that blow up around her. She doesn’t really strive for things, except for probably general happiness. In the trailers, you hear her say in the voiceover, “I just want to be with the one I love”. Awu is a romantic. We saw this when she was young and crushing on Zi Tan and how she begged the emperor to grant her the wish of marrying for love. When she is a married woman, we see her wanting to start a family with Xiao Qi. We see her actively seek out ways to boost her health so that she can bear a child. Her ultimate goal is to find true love and have a family.

In a way, she reminds me of the Mandalorian. There’s a meme that says that even though the Mandalorian is the main character that the audience follows, in the grand scheme of things, the Mandalorian is actually just a side character among a group of main characters. The Mandalorian doesn’t strive for much. He just wants to be a Space Dad (TM) to Baby Yoda and to find a jedi to train his adopted child, and he has absolutely no interest in the politics in the galaxy. But, he’s always unwillingly thrust into politically-charged situations by these “main” characters around him who have their own political missions.

As a princess, Awu is the center of attention. Everyone dotes on her. But she isn’t a key player in the palace politics at all. She has no desire to be apart of it, even though everyone tries to pull her into it: Daddy Wang trying to force her into an military-advantageous marriage, her Empress aunt trying to get her to marry her son the crown prince, and then her Emperor uncle using her to help protect his will. Everyone has their own political agenda that each would have long-lasting consequences to the empire, but all Awu wants is to live happily ever after with the person she loves. This goal of hers never changes throughout the drama, which I admire. Even up to episode 63, she’s asking Xiao Qi to let go of vengeance and leave the capital with her to go live up north like they’ve always dreamed and planned together. While I don’t really agree with her asking XQ to give up vengeance, I completely understand why she asks him.

Among a cast of characters who are constantly planning and scheming, even Xiao Qi now with his drive for justice and vengeance, it almost feels like Awu doesn’t belong, and I think this difference between her and the people around her is why it can seem frustrating to some viewers. We project our emotions onto her and expect her to react as we would. We expect her to act like how we think we would act in that situation. But Awu has always been different from the people around her. I don’t think she’s ever really been in-sync with any character expect maybe for her mom, her maids (Jin’er doesn’t count), and Xiao Qi. So now that her and XQ are slightly out of sync in terms of their attitudes, we’re feeling a little on edge.

I think many would agree that Awu is a smart character, but she doesn’t scheme. And again, that’s because she’s a simple young woman, so we can’t expect her to scheme since she’s never had to. She’s never had to scheme to survive. Even when her whole family schemes, they always think about sparring her because of how much they loved her in the past. People complain about her being the last one to find out about things, but that’s because she doesn’t really involve herself in matters outside the house. She always thinks the best of people and so she never suspects them. She’s saintly to a fault. In a way, Awu is a very idealistic character, but also a resilient one since she’s able to remain true to her original nature even after witnessing the worst of her family. I admit, this was a little hard to buy at first, which was why I was frustrated with her, and her character isn’t everyone’s cup of tea because it’s a really Mary Sue kind of character, but after having cooled down these past few days, I’ve learned to respect her. With all the cunning and ruthless female leads recently, it’s nice to see a female lead who stays true to herself even after facing adversity, instead of becoming hardened and jaded and cynical. I feel like we hate on these kinds of FLs too much, kind of like how everyone hated Bella from Twilight back in 2010. I secretly really liked Bella and related to her when I was a teen, but I boarded on the hate-bandwagon because everyone else hated her.

BUT, I think what’s causing all the backlash is what people expected Awu to become based on how she was set up from the beginning. It almost feels like the writers couldn’t decide if they want her to be brash and rebellious, or loyal and true to the times. So we end up with a confusing combination of both, and different viewers end up having different expectations of what they want her character to be, hence all the disagreements about how to interpret her actions and decisions.

At the beginning, we’re introduced to a sheltered, loved, and carefree young woman of noble blood. Awu is then forced to marry a man she hardly knows, her lover won’t elope with her, and her husband leaves her on her wedding night. This is her first major turning point, and we see an immediate change in her. She matures overnight. She seems to have lost her carefree innocence. She isn’t as bubbly as before.

Because we see this major change in her character so early on in the drama, this is what we expect to continue moving forward for her character, and that she’s going to keep being molded in this way by life-changing events.

She’s then captured by Helan Zhen and has to try to survive, and she does this very well when you consider her sheltered and noble upbringing. In fact, a lot of the things that Awu does in the drama are out of line with her upbringing. She supports the Emperor’s decision to grant XQ, a peasant-born general, the ranking of a prince. She is able to adapt to the rough lifestyle in Ning Shuo. She’s able to whistle like a bandit, much to Xiao Qi’s surprise. And when you think about it, you begin to wonder, where did Awu learn to whistle and ride a horse like that? Who snuck her out of the prime minister’s manor in order to teach her these things? I doubt it was her brother or the princes, considering how useless and misogynistic they are. Her grandmother taught her politics and the arts, which helped her become worldly and cultured, but she didn’t teach Awu what a peasant’s lifestyle is like. So it’s actually a huge surprise that the spoiled daughter of a princess is able to fall in love with a low-born general and feel safe and at ease with him so quickly and easily. We’re briefly told that Awu likes selfless heroes, and so that’s our explanation for why she was able to fall for Xiao Qi. But to me, I think her falling in love with Xiao Qi is another example of how Awu is able to cope with the circumstances.

When Xiao Qi rescues her and takes her back to Ning Shuo, she’s resistant towards him. She seems defeated. Lifeless. We think her time in captivity with Helan has induced another permanent change in her. When Xiao Qi opens the window to let some fresh air in, she calls hims “cu lu” ( 粗鲁), which means rough. It’s something you say when you insult someone for being inelegant, thoughtless, and rude. She scorns the women’s taste of clothing in Ning Shuo, and is surprised when she learns that XQ, along with the rest of the army, only showers once a month because of the lack of hot water.

BUT, what begins to change Awu’s mind so quickly is seeing how righteous and devoted Xiao Qi is. She sees him as a good marriage partner. Her situation could have been a lot worse. After all, after seeing how unhappy her mother, the Empress, and Wanru were in their marriages, Awu expected a similar situation with her own arranged marriage. But instead, she quickly realizes what a lucky hand she’s been dealt, so she accepts XQ and lets herself fall for him. She doesn’t really have a choice anyway, so she embraces it. I especially love the scene during the siege when she tells Zi Tan that she fell in love with Xiao Qi because of his heroism and his selflessness towards the empire, while she now looks down on Zi Tan. If only Xiao Qi were there to hear her confess her love to him so vehemently.

In Ning Shuo, we see Awu begin to soften towards Xiao Qi. She becomes her old carefree self again around him. THIS is something that deviates from most coming-of-age stories that feature a female lead who is irreversibly changed by a traumatic life event. Awu returning to her normal, positive self instead of being jaded foreshadows how her character will behave for the rest of the drama. Yes, Awu doesn’t “grow” like other female characters, but she stays consistent and optimistic, which is a virtue in itself because it reflects her resilience.

When Awu is separated from Xiao Qi and has to protect a city against a siege by her uncle, we see her rise up to the challenge on her own. We see her command an army. We see her stand up to Zi Tan. She shows potential of becoming a “rebel princess”, which again raises our expectations that she’ll become more involved in politics. But at the same time, she’s still a young woman who likes to cuddle with her husband and be doted on by him when he returns. This is the Awu that we’ve known from the beginning. She’s used to be doted on by people who love her. What we have to remember from this siege arc is that while Awu showed great leadership skills, this is not who she wants to be. She CAN be this person, but she doesn’t want to be. The drama subtly reminds us of this when Xiao Qi comes back and she melts into his arms.

This aspect of her character is echoed again in episode 36 when she and Xiao Qi are cuddling in their signature corner of the manor. She says that she doesn’t seem to have to worry about anything when he’s around. XQ teases her about what she would do while he’s gone at war. She tells him that she can face anything on her own when he’s not there, but when he is here, all she wants to do is rely on him.

We tend to forget that Awu likes to be doted on (e.g., remember all those moments throughout the beginning of the drama where she likes to lie in people’s laps. See this post.) This was how she grew up. Loved and spoiled. But Awu CAN be strong. She’s perfectly capable of being strong. That’s why the Emperor trusted her with his will. That’s why Wanru and Zilong trusted her with their child aka the future of the empire. But, she doesn’t want to be this person who has suddenly become the pillar of the empire. She wants to live a simple life. That’s why she sounds so somber when she talks to Nanny Xu about the meaning behind “Mu Yi Tian Xia”, and her duty as the wife of a general and the descendant of royals to unite the commoners with the blue bloods. It’s a tall order, but she’s willing to take on that responsibility for the good of the empire. Again, this shows that Awu is a reactionary character who copes with turmoil that comes at her, but that’s because she’s taking on goals that she didn’t want or ask for in the first place. She has an entirely different set of goals. She dreams of living out another story. But instead, she’s born into this one.

After the siege, Awu’s next major turning points involve her family, and I think this is where it becomes divisive. She finds out about her Emperor Uncle having tried to have her and XQ killed, her cousin trying to steal the throne, her Empress Aunt trying to burn the Emperor’s will, her father trying to stage a coup, her mother killing herself as a result, and her having a miscarriage. In the end, she forgives everyone even after having seen the worst of them. Even after realizing that they’d sacrifice her for power. This is all understandable, even if saintly of her. These are the people who raised her, so I get why she would forgive them. Awu values family (to a fault). It’s not in her nature to abandon family, especially given how close she is to them. They helped shaped who she grew up to be. She lived a happy childhood with them. She’s never known abuse. Heck, even when they betray her, like the Emperor, they apologize to her soon after. Everyone seems to want to appease her. Even the Empress after all she’s done. Can you blame Awu for not having it in her to hate people? As rotten as her family is, they always try to spare her, and they only target her as a reluctant, last resort (even though they all want her husband killed though. It’s weird how they justify loving her, but still think it’s okay to kill her husband).

Awu does make some questionable decisions and judgments though, and I feel like she thinks of Xiao Qi too idealistically and takes him for granted, which can sometimes be unfair to him.

Case 1 is when she goes out of her way to help Qian’er and meets with Helan Zhen in secret and then dances with him. Like what many people have said, they feel angry that she danced with HZ before her own husband. And when Xiao Qi expresses anger and concern over her meeting with HZ, she insults him by saying he lacks a sense of familial duty since she doesn’t have a proper family or clan. This was a low-blow, but I excused it since it was in the heat of the moment.

Case 2 is the aphrodisiac incident. I think this is when Awu realizes that she hasn’t been considerate enough of Xiao Qi. When she learns that Xiao Qi was the victim in the situation, she immediately defended him and cast out Qian’er. However, up until this point, Awu has always taken Qian’er’s side against him. There’s no doubt that Awu loves and appreciates Xiao Qi, but it sometimes feels like she forgets how much he does for her and how tolerant he is of her family. Xiao Qi, an undefeated general and god of war, is nearly assaulted at the hands of his wife’s cousin because his wife has a big heart and let the predator into the house. Awu has always seen Xiao Qi has invincible, but this was the moment when she realizes that he can be broken, and she can be the cause of it.

Case 3 is what everyone’s been talking about recently, which is how she is reacting to Xiao Qi’s rage towards his betrayed fallen soldiers. While I understand that Awu is stuck in the middle, it also feels like she’s prioritizing her family over his feelings. She knows that Xiao Qi is angry, and yet she asks him to leave with her. She has the expectation that he will listen to her. She’s (quietly) making him choose between her and his army, which is unfair, even if she’s doing it for his own good. Do I agree with what she’s doing? Not really. But do I sympathize with her motivations? Yes. It’s taken me a couple of days, but I think I now understand.

Xiao Qi definitely has flaws too (e.g., the contraceptive fiasco). They both keep secrets from each other and try to make decisions for each other. Two sides of the same coin. Ugh, these two frustrate me so much, but I still love them so much.

Overall, people are expecting Awu to be one type of character, but they ignore how the drama’s been characterizing her. We can agree or disagree with her character’s development, but when you break it down, Awu’s character makes sense and is actually quite consistent, which is surprising for a 68-episode drama. Usually characters take a 180-degree turn after being drawn out for so long, but Awu has stayed true, for better or for worse. Do I still get frustrated at her sometimes? Of course. But, I can sympathize with her.

Rant over.

#monarch industry #the rebel princess #上阳赋 #awu #cdrama #this has taken me 2 hours to write #i don't have a life but I have a bunch of assignments waiting for me #rip #cdrama rant #my life hasn't been my own since jan #character analysis #deep dive

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