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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

JC adopts stray/rouge cultivators after the war au to cope with the destruction of lotus pier. also i love your writing so much!!

Gratuitously Acquired - ao3

At first, he took anyone who would join, needing numbers – needing people. There were plenty of cultivators that wanted to be associated with a great sect. Plenty, too, that were barely more than criminals, wanting to use the smoke and ash of war to obscure the past, to cover up old crimes and wash themselves clean.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t in any position to refuse them. Soldiers were soldiers.

After the war ended, though…

Some he cast out. Others, even more despicable, he slaughtered for what they’d done.

A few –

“Yan Qiao.”

The female cultivator in question, who had been sneaking out of the still mostly ruined Lotus Pier at night in flagrant violation of curfew, froze in her tracks.

“Uh,” she said. “Sect Leader Jiang. Fancy finding you…here…now…at this time…”

Jiang Cheng looked at the basket of buns in her hands. “You’re stealing leftovers from our kitchens to feed orphans among the common people,” he said. “Again.”

She blushed. “No one wants them now that there’s better available, Sect Leader! Really, they’ll only go stale, and then rot – and I never stole when it was the army eating them!”

“That’s not the point,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “Tell me, how in the name of heavens did you really get branded as a criminal? Distributed too many alms? Did too much charity?”

Yan Qiao coughed, turning red. “I told you before, Sect Leader. I killed a man.”

“He must have done something particularly heinous, then. You’re shitat killing.”

“Now I am. Sect Leader, if you don’t mind…”

“You’re one of the ones who wants my surname, right?” he interrupted. “Consider it granted.”

Yan Qiao – no, he supposed he’d better start thinking of her as Jiang Qiao – gaped at him. “But…Sect Leader!”

“I’ve barely granted it to anyone, so you’d better live up to it, you hear me?” Jiang Cheng said in his best threatening voice. He’d been assured by several people that it was really quite threatening, anyway. “I don’t want any excuses. Now go feed your damn orphans, and in the morning I want a report on how you think we can do it in a more structured manner. I can’t have you sneaking off every night anymore! Now that you’re a Jiang, you’re going to have work.”

When they were done with war and started firmly on rebuilding, the Jiang sect’s name was firmly reestablished as a Great Sect once more, it was the opportunists that came.

Smiling faces, sycophantic voices, cowards one and all – like beetles crawling out of the woodwork, not willing to risk their lives, but willing enough to beg for scraps and advantages later on when it seemed safe enough to do so.

Jiang Cheng wanted to chase them all away, but his sect was still weaker than he wanted to admit, still rebuilding, still more army than civilian operation. They had valiant soldiers by the dozen, but they needed more than that. They needed administrators, supervisors, artisans, smiths, merchants, laundry-women…

They needed workers. The ones they got – well, cowards they might be, but skills they had.

He still rejected most of the worst of them.

Most.

“Bo Zhou,” he said, inspecting the surprisingly flush list of taxes they’d collected that quarter, and the man in question turned to grin unrepentantly at him. “You’d tell me if you were a con artist in a previous life, right?”

“A previous life, Sect Leader?” Bo Zhou said. He was still grinning, but then, he was always grinning. He had a crooked leg and an even more crooked heart, and he’d probably steal candy from little children if he happened to have a hankering, but he was amazing at getting people to do what he wanted. Too amazing, really. “Why limit yourself? What about thislife?”

“…Bo Zhou. Tell me you aren’t a former con artist.”

“I may or may not have had a sideline selling snake oil and protective talismans before I became a cultivator,” Bo Zhou admitted cheerfully, and Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose – less out of actual irritation and more to keep from actually laughing. The only person he knew that was more shameless than Bo Zhou was Wei Wuxian; he couldn’t wait to introduce them once Wei Wuxian stopped skulking around in wine shops long enough to get back to doing his job as Jiang Cheng’s head disciple and right hand. “Who would’ve known that making all those fake talismans ended up making me pretty good at making actual talismans when I became a cultivator? Really, who could have called that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Who taught you how to cultivate, anyway? Can I – I don’t know – seek vengeance on behalf of the rest of the world or something?”

Bo Zhou rolled his eyes right back at him. Shameless! “Is this about the taxes? Just be happy I got them all!”

“I can’t just be happy! What if this money is stolen property?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sect Leader. They’re what we shouldbe getting, and from all the right people. You told me this was the right amount yourself!”

“Yes, but no one ever actually pays the full amount!” Jiang Cheng enjoyed the way Bo Zhou’s jaw dropped. “I just wanted to see if you could actually do it.”

“I’m hurt at your lack of trust.” Bo Zhou paused, considering. “Also a little impressed at you for keeping a straight enough face to trick me. Well done, Sect Leader.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “You too, Jiang Zhou.”

“It’s Bo…” He trailed off, comprehension arriving and speech departing, and this time he didn’t have a quick retort. He’d been nagging Jiang Cheng on and off for the Jiang surname for the last few weeks, more joking than anything else – he knew that Jiang Cheng hadn’t given his surname to the vast majority of the new people in his sect, only the very few he thought were worth it.

Jiang Cheng enjoyed the newly dubbed Jiang Zhou’s moment of speechlessness thoroughly, since he was moderately sure he wasn’t going to get another one anytime in the next – ever, possibly.

“You proved your worth and your trustworthiness,” he said, patting Jiang Zhou on the shoulder. It occurred to him that he should probably come up with a courtesy name for the man, although he wasn’t sure the man would want one. “Also, congratulations, you’re now the person in charge of tax collection. See if you can think up some new thoughts about supplementing our income, will you? We have so many costs, and I don’t want to rely on Lanling Jin more than I can help it, not like Gusu Lan…”

“Oh, really?” Jiang Zhou interrupted, abruptly excited. “I have so many ideas! How ethical do you want to be about this?”

Jiang Cheng paused. “…very?”

“Be reasonable, Sect Leader!”

“…moderately?” he tried, a little more desperately.

“I can work with moderately. I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘thin and barely plausible veneer’?”

“No.”

“Oh well. Moderately ethical it is!”

Most of the Jiang sect was slaughtered during the attack on the Lotus Pier. Disciples Jiang Cheng had grown up with his whole life, had expected to see by his side in the future, his friends, his family, even his petty childhood enemies – all gone.

Well, not all gone. There were some Jiang disciples that had been away from Lotus Pier at the time, whether on some errand or a night-hunt or other reasons; they rushed back to his side as soon as they could, of course, and formed the core of Jiang Cheng’s new Jiang sect. When he’d felt utterly alone, when even Wei Wuxian was missing, they had been there for him. They’d preserved their lives and then they’d promised them to him, and it wasn’t until they knelt before him that he really felt like a Sect Leader.

There was no way he could give any of them up now.

“Jiang Meimei, you can’t go,” he said, having completely abandoned all shame in favor of clutching at her robes as if he were a child. “I need you!”

“I’m not even a proper Jiang disciple!” she exclaimed, exasperated – or possibly just annoyed that her grand plan to sneak out in the middle of the night had been stymied by his ambush. “Just because my surname is still Jiang doesn’t mean I didn’t get kicked out, remember?”

“I thought you just left,” Jiang Cheng said, temporarily distracted. “No one ever really talked much about it, actually, but to the extent anyone did, they said that you’d decided that your inclinations were more suited to being a rogue cultivator. That you didn’t want to be weighed down by sect expectations –”

“Hah!” Jiang Meimei tossed her head. “As if it wouldn’t be better to be a roving sect cultivator than a rogue cultivator! I won’t deny that I had a fair bit of wanderlust in my youth –”

“You’re only ten years older than me, you’re not that old.”

“Shut up, brat.”

“You can’t tell me to shut up, I’m your sect leader.”

“You’re my baby cousin is what you are, and, again, I’m actually not part of the Jiang sect!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng argued. “You’ve been at my side during the entire Sunshot Campaign.”

“I wasn’t going to let my baby cousin get himself murdered, now was I?” Jiang Meimei sniffed. “But I’m still a rogue cultivator. They kicked me out when I wouldn’t accept a marriage, and I’m still firm on that.”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to be married? Really?” he asked, concerned. “But what about poor Liu Lingling? You shouldn’t be sleeping with her if you don’t intend to be serious about it! I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for the current project you’re working on to finish to find a matchmaker to exchange birth characters –”

“They wanted me to marry a man,” Jiang Meimei clarified, but her habitual frown had eased considerably; she looked almost on the verge of a smile. “A-Cheng, you’re being dense again. You’re the Sect Leader of a Great Sect now. You know that that means you need to have alliances, marriage contacts with other sects, and that means using your subsidiary branches.”

“Jiang Meimei, you’re the one being dense,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think I’d force you into a marriage? I don’t have subsidiary branches. I barely have a sect, even after all this time. I’m not Wen Ruohan, handing out my surname to anyone who wants it – I only give it to the ones that matter, the ones I want to keep, and those of you that actually share my blood are even rarer, even more precious. How could I give you away?”

Jiang Meimei pursed her lips.

“I really do need you,” Jiang Cheng said quietly. “You weren’t part of the Jiang sect at all, not really, but you still came to help me – you were there from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign, and you’ve never strayed, never left. You’re my right hand. I can’t do without you.”

Jiang Meimei turned her head away. “It’s not that I want to leave you,” she said. “But becoming a rogue cultivator was hard enough the first time. I couldn’t rely on any of the things that I had always had, everything always changing. I was young and angry then, I could handle it, but things are different now. I’m less flexible, less compromising, older, more tired – I can’t just walk out on a whim and just rough it anymore. I have a girl who, yes, I want to eventually marry; I want to have children. I need certainty. Are you going to give it to me?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands. He’d known it was going to have to come to this, but he’d been dragging his feet, not wanting to succumb to a reality that already existed. Had existed for longer than he wanted to admit, as if simply denying it would mean that it wasn’t the truth.

Like a child.

“Yes,” he said, though it tore his heart out of his chest to do it. “I will. Jiang Meimei…will you take the position of Head Disciple?”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t coming back. Jiang Cheng had already cast him out of the sect, just like Jiang Meimei had been, except in Wei Wuxian’s case it had been something that Wei Wuxian himself had demanded. He was living in Yiling now, and by all reports was quite happy there with his little Wen sect family that he’d picked over Jiang Cheng and all his family.

He was never coming back.

It was time to move on.

“Yes,” she said, and shoved her pack into his chest. “Now go unpack that for me. Consider it payment for driving me to extreme measures!”

“I’m your sect leader, you know,” he grumbled. “Officially, now. You could show me some respect.”

“Would you rather pay for my wedding down the line?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” And then, as he scurried over away, he shouted over his shoulder: “As if I wouldn’t be paying for it anyway! You think my Head Disciple’s going to be married in anything other than top style? Better start planning…”

“Don’t rush me! Brat!”

Jin Ling wasn’t surnamed Jiang, but he was the most important person in all of the Lotus Pier – and Jiang Cheng wanted to make sure everyone knew it. It hadn’t been easy for him to get the chance to help care for Jin Ling, especially here, so far away from home; Jiang Cheng had expected to barely be allowed to visit, to have to cool his heels outside of Lanling City begging just for a glimpse of him. Being able to take him home to raise for half the year, even if it was due to the dangerous infighting amongst Lanling Jin, was more than he’d ever dreamed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t clear that Jin Ling himself agreed.

“He’s still crying,” Jiang Cheng muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Surely he’s got to stop sometime? I mean, just – physically?”

“They say a boy resembles his mother’s brother,” Jiang Meimei said, echoing the gesture. “If he’s got your lungs and stamina, Sect Leader, we’re doomed.”

“I’m rethinking the whole having children thing,” Liu Lingling said blearily, having fallen asleep on her soon-to-be wife’s shoulder several times, only to be woken up by the next round of crying. “I need sleep.”

“Go get some, both of you,” Jiang Cheng ordered. When his cousin scowled at him, he scowled back. “I’m serious. If he keeps this up, we’re going to need to go into shifts. I can last a bit longer.”

“That’s a filthy lie.”

“It is not. Your sect leader has given you an order – get to it!”

It was a filthy lie.

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes when the crink in his neck grew too irritating to ignore, at which point he realized he’d been asleep – and, more importantly, that Jin Ling was somehow not crying.

He sat up with a start, suddenly terrified: had something happened to him? Had he been silenced forever? Had Jiang Cheng failed this one last duty he had to his sister?

“Shhh, little one,” someone was whispering, not far away. “Let me tell you the one about the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd, yeah? You seem like someone who’d appreciate stars. It all started –”

Jiang Cheng went to go look.

A teenage girl was rocking Jin Ling in her arms and telling him a story in murmured tones, and Jin Ling was yawning and trying to gnaw on her shirt. She wasn’t even a cultivator, as far as Jiang Cheng could tell. Her clothing suggested some level of poverty, her accent the countryside – how’d she even end up here?

He wasn’t sure he cared.

Jiang Cheng didn’t want to disturb her, but he did anyway; a shift of his weight, a scuffling of his feet, and the floor creaked. The girl jumped, startled, but luckily Jin Ling was already most of the way asleep and just grumbled a little instead of starting to screech.

“How’d you do that?” Jiang Cheng asked, nodding at Jin Ling. “Make him stop crying.”

“My mother had seven kids after me,” the girl said, answering automatically. “And her sister had six. Someone had to learn to deal with all those babies, and it ended up being me. Think it’s just habit after this long.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t handle one baby. He couldn’t even imagine.

That’s when the girl seemed to remember herself, and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I heard him crying and I couldn’t resist...I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here. It was an accident.”

“How did you get here?” Jiang Cheng asked, because accidental or not, a security breach was still a security breach. “And who are you, anyway?”

“My name’s A-Hua. I’m here to work in the kitchens, just got hired this morning; the fourth cook is my uncle’s wife’s cousin, she got me a job, said it was a good place to start – I was trying to find my way out so I could go to the servant’s quarters to get some sleep, but then I got lost…”

More likely she’d decided it was better to try to stay somewhere indoors than go out in the pouring rain to try to find her way to the right set of quarters, Jiang Cheng thought to himself. “Give me your hand.”

“Uh. What?”

He ignored her stare, took her hand and felt her pulse. There was a little bit of natural talent there, though not much; she might, if she tried hard enough, become a cultivator, but she’d never be more than a servant.

Unless, of course, she did something unusual to impress someone.

“Forget the kitchens,” Jiang Cheng told her. “You’re hired on a provisional basis to keep an eye on Jin Ling.”

The girl nodded, eyes wide as saucers. “Can you – do that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can. What’s your surname? You can’t go around being called A-Hua, we have at least seven people that I know of that go by that name.”

The girl looked distressed.

She probably didn’t have a proper surname. Some people in the countryside didn’t.

But they really couldn’t go around shouting “A-Hua” every time Jin Ling was crying, which was basically all the time.

“Fine,” he said, giving in. “Do well, and I’ll consider letting you use mine. But only if you do well!”

Jiang Cheng was covered in mud thanks to a successful-but-at-what-cost night hunt and angry about it, stomping around the lotus pools on his way back to town, when he heard the familiar sounds of someone having a panic attack.

He slowed, involuntarily, and took a look: it was some teenager dressed in black, heaving miserably by a tree.

Jiang Meimei had once said that Jiang Cheng was a bit weak when it came to teenagers.

Jiang Cheng said that was nonsense.

Jiang Hua chimed in, quite loyally (if perhaps not with the best timing), and said he wasn’t.

Jiang Cheng yielded the argument at once to keep Jiang Meimei from laughing herself sick.

In view of that, he was better off ignoring the kid. After all, what was it to him that some kid was having a fit of anxiety right next the same old lotus pool that he used to have his own teenage fits of anxiety next to, under the shade of the same old tree that had sheltered him – one of the few places that remained untouched by the Wen sect’s aggression, one of the few places that was exactly the same?

Jiang Cheng groaned and walked over. “Okay, fine. What’s your problem?”

The kid looked up at him. He had dark circles under his eyes. “I think my heart’s about to explode.”

“That’s just the anxiety,” Jiang Cheng said, and sat down next to him. “What’s causing the anxiety? Don’t say that someone is better than you and your parents are disappointed in you.”

“What?” the kid blinked. “No, it’s not – it’s not that. I’m about to screw up the very first job I ever got.”

Jiang Cheng considered that. It was just different enough from his own issues that he didn’t suspect a plot, and yet close enough that he might actually be able to offer some expertise.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked reluctantly.

“Not to some mud-man,” the kid said, and – hey! It wasn’t that bad. He thought, anyway. Actually, it probably was that bad. “I just…I’m the only one left. I have to make something of myself!”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched. “What do you mean, you’re the only one left?”

The kid stuttered through his story. It wasn’t as bad as Jiang Cheng had initially feared, but it was still pretty bad – his small village had had bad harvests, and there had been starvation, a bad winter; the kid had been sent out to get help, but it had taken too long and he’d arrived back to find them all already gone. He’d been lost, but some traveling cultivator had agreed to take him on as a disciple provided he proved himself, had taught him all sorts of skills, cultivation and talisman-writing and music –

“Music?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Not the sword?”

“There was only the one,” the kid explained. “Obviously he kept it for himself.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t think much of that – surely this cultivator, whoever he ws, could have shared, just long enough to teach? – but he didn’t comment. It seemed fairly clear that the kid didn’t actually think very highly of his teacher, although he was very earnestly trying to be appropriately filial.

It was a little cute.

“…and I was supposed to wait here for someone when they came by here, some fancy rich person, and then get them to follow me, but it’s been ages and no one’s come by at all!” the kid wailed. “I’m such a screw up!”

“You don’t even know who you’re waiting for?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the kid shook his head. “How were you supposed to get them to follow you, then?”

The kid scratched his nose. “My master said that if I showed off some of my cultivation, they’d follow me right away.”

Jiang Cheng suppressed a smirk. “It must be very impressive cultivation, then.”

“…not really. I only know one trick,” the kid admitted. “But it’s not that hard, and it looks impressive – here, see, wait; give me a second, I just need to whistle –”

Zidian crackled to life on Jiang Cheng’s finger before the kid finished the first stanza.

“Stop that!” he cried out, leaping to his feet, and – startled – the kid stopped, blinking owlishly at him. “Is that what your master taught you?!”

“Yes?” the kid said. “Did I do it wrong?”

Jiang Cheng gnashed his teeth. “That’s demonic cultivation. Never do that, okay? Ever.”

“But then how am I supposed to get the fancy rich person to follow me, assuming he ever showed?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. If he hadn’t tripped over that branch and fallen into the mud – if he hadn’t taken an extra half-shichen to struggle out of the mire – if he’d walked by in all his usual finery, rich person that he was, and seen some kid practicing demonic cultivation…

He’d have given chase in a heartbeat.

More to the point, everyone knew he would. His reputation had been pretty much set in stone by this point.

“Let’s go find that master of yours,” he said. “Right now.”

Of course, that ended up leading Jiang Cheng straight into the bastard’s trap, which would have been a problem except that he’d taken the time to send someone to tell Jiang Qiao, who’d been waiting for him back in town, that he’d be a bit late and not to worry, just wait where she was.

She’d ignored his instructions and arrived just in time to knife the demonic cultivator – a human trafficker whose operations Jiang Cheng had shut down with extreme viciousness only a few months before – right in the belly, gutting him like a fish in a swift easy motion.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it again,” she said, smiling at the knife, and Jiang Cheng made a mental note to ask exactly how manymen she’d killed to get that criminal brand of hers, except the poor kid was sinking down to his knees with a horrified look and, shit, that horrible bastard, evil as he might have been, was probably the last person the kid had in this whole rotten world, wasn’t he?

“Does Jiang Hua still have those beginner manuals we dug up for her?” Jiang Cheng asked, and Jiang Qiao nodded. “Good. Tell her that starting today, Jiang Jianwen here’s her little brother. She’s been pining over raising someone ever since Jin Ling got to be too old to snuggle.”

The kid looked up with wide eyes.

“No, you don’t get a choice on the name,” Jiang Cheng told him. “Whatever name this piece of crap gave you, just forget it, you hear me? You can do better than him. But no more demonic cultivation!”

“I wish I could visit the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, looking wistfully downriver. They were very close by, but he still didn’t dare, even though Jiang Cheng had grumpily extended an invitation through Jin Ling. So much had happened – he just didn’t know where to even start.

He didn’t want to get into all that messy history with Jiang Cheng.

He just wanted to visit, that’s all.

He missed Jiang Cheng, but he missed the Lotus Pier, too. The food, the places, the air…

“I just need a secret way in that even the sect leader doesn’t know about,” he sighed. He’d once known them all – but there was a different sect leader now, and a different Lotus Pier. He couldn’t risk it: Jiang Cheng might find out that he’d snuck in and feel hurt, thinking that Wei Wuxian was avoiding him, when he was just avoiding the conversation; that would just make everything worse.

Lan Wangji would have distracted him, but Lan Wangji himself had been distracted – some man in Jiang sect colors with a heavy limp and an excited sort of air had rushed over, shouting something about wanting to talk about tax policy and possibly also games of chance, and Lan Wangji had all but fled. It had been so funny that Wei Wuxian had nearly laughed himself sick.

“I know one,” someone said, and Wei Wuxian glanced over: it was a young man in Jiang sect disciple robes, little more than a teenager – only a few years older than Jin Ling, if he had to guess. He was smiling, ducking his head a little; he looked proud of himself. “I mean, if you really want. But only if you don’t mean any harm!”

How adorable, Wei Wuxian thought, and grinned at him. “I just want something spicy without having to go through the whole process of greeting people, is that a crime?”

“Not at all!” the kid exclaimed, beaming, and Wei Wuxian almost felt bad for conning him. Almost.

“Do you really know a secret way in?” he asked, pretending to be doubtful. “Really?”

Sure enough, the kid – Jiang Jianwen, apparently, he must be the kid of one of the ones that survived the massacre – was easily lured into insisting that he did know, and then to agreeing to act as guide.

And, moreover, it turned out he really did know his way inside, which made this the easiest infiltration ever.

Or so Wei Wuxian thought right up until he felt a knife point touch his ribs.

“Well done, Jianwen!” a young woman – also in Jiang colors – said, reaching out and ruffling Jiang Jianwen’s hair.

“Aw, it was nothing,” he said, just as bashful as he was when he’d been talking to Wei Wuxian. “I couldn’t have done it without shixiong luring off Lan-er-gongzi.”

Wait, that’d been part of this, too?

That was worrisome.

“Hardly nothing,” the older woman standing behind Wei Wuxian said. She had a certain sort of rock-hard steadiness that was more worrying than the knife she was holding on him – she was a powerful cultivator, familiar with killing and scarred with a criminal’s brand, and yet she seemed entirely at ease in a way that suggested a strong sense of righteousness, with no guilt or weak points he might exploit to make an easy out. “You successfully conned the Yiling Patriarch into following you right into a trap.”

Wei Wuxian wondered if he could deny it.

“I don’t know, shijie, that doesn’t seem that hard,” the first woman said. “Isn’t he the kind of person to run head-first into danger at the first instance?”

“Head-first into danger, and like his tail’s on fire away from dogs,” the older woman agreed, and – damnit. There was clearly no denying it; they actually knew him. Though from where, he had no idea. “A-Hua, Jiangwen, let’s go – we don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me who we’re going to go see?” Wei Wuxian tried, putting on his most charming smile. “Or, perhaps, who you are, and what you have against me…?”

“Jiang Jianwen you know,” the woman said, rather unexpectedly. “I’m Jiang Qiao, and this is Jiang Hua. Our shixiong is Jiang Zhou – he’s the one that makes Lan-er-gongzi lose his wallet every time he’s forced to visit Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian was almost distracted with the tantalizing prospects of stories about Lan Wangji. Almost.

“You’re all surnamed Jiang?” he asked, surprised: he might have believed it for Jiang Jianwen, maybe, he was young enough to be the son of someone in the last generation. But Jiang Hua and Jiang Qiao looked absolutely nothing alike either to each other or to Jiang Cheng, and at least Jiang Qiao was old enough that he should’ve recognized her if she’d been a Jiang. There’d been a lot of people in the old Jiang sect, even if you limited it to those surnamed Jiang, but he’d been Head Disciple back then – he’d known almost all of them.

“We’re adopted,” Jiang Jianwen said. He looked very proud. “Sect Leader Jiang took us into the family as part of the branch lines.”

Wei Wuxian had never once in his life wanted to have the surname Jiang, not even when he’d been mocked for not having it. He’d never even thought about it. Not ever.

He felt a stab of envy at the word family, though.

“He gave you his surname?” he asked, and tried not to feel jealous when they all nodded. “Oh.”

It made sense, he tried to tell himself as they walked through the back streets of the Lotus Pier. The Jiang sect had been demolished, and Jiang Cheng practically the only survivor but for whoever happened by coincidence to not be at home – the Jiang sect would need branch family members, and adoption made sense. There was no reason to resent the idea of Jiang Cheng giving the name he had always treated as being so precious to a branded former criminal, to a con man, to a commoner from the countryside, to a –

“You were a what?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

“A demonic cultivator,” Jiang Jianwen said bashfully. “Not a very a good one, though.”

Wei Wuxian wanted to say something to that. He didn’t know what, but something.

“Enough chatter,” Jiang Qiao said. “We’re here.”

Jiang Hua opened the door and Wei Wuxian stepped inside.

Then he tried to step back out, only to be crowded in by the others.

“No, no, no,” he said. “No, I was willing to play along until now, but this is a step too far. You don’t understand! She’s going to eviscerate me!”

Jiang Meimei – older than the teenager he remembered her being when she left the sect, but still unmistakable – grinned with her teeth bared.

“Oh good,” she said. “At least your brain is still working. Now come on and have a seat, and we’re going to talk about how you’ve been treating my baby cousin recently…”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #original characters #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #gratuitously acquired

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Kinky stuff you said?

so... i have this idea

I know we all collectively as a fandom have decided that Andrea is a fluff ball lmao

but I'm rooting for him because...I don't know, like when he got angry when he found out about the letter and started to play the violin all annoyed and how he raised his voice and there is also the look that he gave Olga he gives me the feelings like~

Andrea spank me with that violin bow (we can buy a new one later)

Something like Teach me a lesson sweet boy

Dancing the dance [Andrea Marowski x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Smut (fingering, spanking, mentions of cheating)

Author’s note: Do I have to say something? I mean the request is amazing enough

It was just a day like any other in the little village, you opened your bookshop, a small little thing that your uncle run and you were proud to call it your precious jewel.

You worked hard to keep it afloat, you went by bicycle to the bigger cities nearby to get the best books yourself or the classics, you were determined not to let it die on you, but it was every day harder.

It was almost the end of your day when you saw Mr Barnes come inside, he was a war veteran that suffered terrible injuries, but also an avid reader who would come even twice a week.

“Don’t you tell me you have already finished it, James”

You smiled at him and he shrugged, his playful smirk running over his lips. “I like this Agatha Christie author and her Belgian detective, what can I say?”

He was a player, you knew it and didn’t expect anything less from him, he is handsome and he knows it. But you never took him seriously and even less since a certain shipwrecked violinist made his way to your heart, but truth to be told, you indulged him. Sure, he was a passionate reader, but he loved to come and flirt with you and you need him and his coins to call it a day.

“Well, what’s next then?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, you’re the bookworm, aren’t you?”

His smirk was playful but you ignored it and smiled only moving away from the counter, making your away around the books to try the one you were meaning to offer him next. You always planned one in advance, or even two, just to make sure to give him enough attention but not too much.

“What about…” you begun, your tongue sticking a little put as you’re focused, eyebrows furrowed as you read the titles.

“You’d look even more the part with glasses” he interrupted you and you chuckled

“I know, I know, I should wear them but..”

“No, I mean that you’d look even more attractive with them on”

You kept quiet as he moved closer, his arm leaning against the shelf in front of you as you mumbled a thank you.

He stared at you following your every move, your hand picking a thin book and handing it to him.

“The Great Gatsby” he read out loud “Is it new?” “No, just American, it was published in 1925”

He nodded looking at it as he moved page after page, his lips pursed in concentration as you tried to move past him, but he just stood still and board in front of you.

“What do you do after work?”

“Oh, well I have some chores to do at home, study new purchases for the shop”

“You always do” he said closing the book with a loud snap making you jolt in your spot

“Let’s have a date night, we could dine at the tavern and you can tell me more about those orders you always have to do” he said taking a step forward as you mimicked him taking a step back.

“Y/N” he murmured “we are dancing this dance from a long time, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you mean”

You replied only as you tried to move past him

“You’re very attractive, still unmarried, incredibly tempting for every man in town, you should expect it”

The truth was that you weren’t completely far from anything love related, but Dr Mead advised you to keep your little ‘entanglement’ with Andrea s secret for the time being. Most people still didn’t get the difference of him being Polish and not German and it would only make your life harder for no reason. So you obliged, you closed the curtains at night when he sneaked into your room, you visited him often with the excuse of bringing him books, you pretend not to wish his touch on you every time of the day.

“I said I can’t already”

You took the chance to move past James and take the broom to clean.

He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as his eyes travelled on you. He was patient, but not that patient, nevertheless you were a delicious eye candy to his eyes. He put his hand to his pocket still holding the book into the other one. He pulled out some coins and left them on the table, there was also a tip from you.

“I like this game Y/N” he said bluntly to you and he looked at the book “also. such a small book makes me think you want me to come back soon”

You looked at him, you matched his smirk, oh he loved to be kept on the edge, didn’t he?

“See you next week” you only said and he gave you a light military salutation to you saying something about being at your orders.

You smirked biting the inside of your cheek as you enjoyed the game for sure, or the dance as he called it, but you were realising how you had to probably tone it down. He was liking it a bit too much and going over the simple play, plus you were losing the plot of it since Andrea came into the picture.

After you closed the day, recorded all the sells and cleaned the shop you wrapped yourself up in a coat, taking an easy children book for Andrea to practice with. On your way out you noticed some scattered flowers on the ground, but you didn’t pay much attention to it.

You made your way to Ursula and Janet’s house, the violin being played out loud, a very dramatic and strong melody going off, almost violent.

As you knocked at the door Janet welcomed you quickly.

“Oh Y/N, please try to talk to him, at least you know German” she said and you looked at her confused “he went out for a walk and came back so angry, he shouted at poor Ursula, she is so bumped, I can’t look after the two of them” Janet said in her own way that made it sound almost funny, if not sarcastic.

You nodded taking off your coat and hat, you walked upstairs holding the book with you, the music getting louder as you took the stairs until his room, you got inside without knocking because it would be impossible for him to hear anyway. The first thing you noticed was his back wrapped in that white shirt and the pants kept up by his suspenders. You still remember vividly the first time you pulled those suspenders off his shoulders, it is still one of your favourite things to do as a prelude of what is about to come.

“Andrea” you called him as you closed the door behind your back, locking it just because you know how much Ursula likes to peak in.

He turned around suddenly, almost scaring you off as he held his violin in one hand and the thin bow into his other hand, his eyes on fire, jaw clenched and his back straight like a soldier.

“You bezwstydny” he shouted at you and you looked at him even more confused “schamlos” he said then in German.

“Shameless? Why?” You asked frowning, you had the luck to know German because your family immigrated to Cornwall before the WWI to join your uncle’s business, but that didn’t help when Andrea was so mad to decide not to tolerate any other language by his own like now.

“I saw you” he said spitting venom “You think funny?”

“But what?”

“You with that man in bookshop!” He growled putting down the violin because it was at serious risk of being thrown on the floor.

You parted your lips in shock as he said that, so those flowers were his?

“Did you come to pick me up?”

He nodded but his lips pressed against each other in disgust.

“Andrea, don’t make that face, he is just a client acting up”

“You act up”

You looked at him shaking your head “you don’t understand” you said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“oh no, I do understand”

His voice was different, his accent thicker than ever, there was no trace of the usual sweet smile, almost mischievous, that he always had on his lips.

He sat down on the chair were Ursula watched him for nights on “on my lap”

You frowned “no”

He raised his eyebrows “I think you not understand” he said threateningly “Are you playing with two men?”

You shook your head vehemently “You know it is not like this” you stated “I want only you”

He didn’t seem impressed, he pursed his lips in disbelief and let out a sarcastic chuckle twirling the bow between his fingers.

“Then prove it”

His accent hitting you again, you loved it, but the way he said it, that didn’t feel comforting.

You stared at him, you didn’t want to argue with him, he was already too mad and to hold a conversation was to ask too much.

So you obliged leaving the book aside and making your way to his lap sitting on it.

“No this way” he said wiggling underneath you to make you stand up

“gebückt” he said in German waving the bow to you. Oh, so he wanted you bent over it?

You stood uncomfortable for a moment but then you nodded again, you needed to get past this crisis, no?

So you moved your dress a bit to make your way onto his lap, you wanted to ask what now but then you felt distinctively the way he pulled your skirts up.

“Andrea” you hissed at him but by now he held you in that position pushing your panties down, the cold air hitting your bum, your cheeks bringing from embarrassment.

“You like play, so you get to be punish like little kid”

You blushed even more if possible, you wiggled but he held you down firmly until you stopped struggling and settled in the position he wanted.

“Repeat numbers in English for me” he said and you whimpered as he smacked that bow onto your ass earning a gasp, your shoulders trembled inward as it was more painful than expected.

“Number?”

“One” you replied immediately, how much do you have to count, you wondered.

You whimpered as other two snaps to the stick followed very quick together

“Andrea, please stop” “If you wanted me to stop you’d not act to earn it” his words an hiss between his teeth “we begin again now, you didn’t count”

You groaned but another slap reduced you to a forced obedience “one”

He smirked widely as he twirled the bow in his hand, you could’t see him but you could ear the way it cut the air around.

You obeyed and counted all the three snaps that followed, your breath itching and your hands trying to reach out to the floor to gain some advantage in the positioning, which still felt too embarrassing, the constrictive exposure of your bottom making you feel uneasy.

Andrea saw that movement and he reached down with his free hand clasping onto your jaw making you look up like some animal in need to be tamed. Another whip hit you.

“Five” you groaned as now your position felt even more humiliating, you shivered as he chuckled

“Now you will be good during more strokes, if you manage to come to dziesięć then you’ll be free”

You groaned, how much is that? The confusion in you was showing as your body stiffened. The unknown scaring you, your core clenched shamelessly, your wetness revealing a pleasure that was evident, a dirtiness of your own that you didn’t expect to meet.

“Only five more”

He whispered and smacked your ass again, you whined squeezing your eyes

“Six”

Oh, to see you so obedient.

“You like to be a tease, don’t you? You love it, showing off like a whore to that man, to all the men, you sell them the whole experience for few coins? You make them believe they can fuck you?”

He smirked hitting your ass again, your hips buckling against his leg as you were looking for relief from that desire

“Seven”

“You love it, you love to be desired by many don’t you?”

“Eight”

“You want them to dream of you at night, to desire to fuck you and smack your ass like I am doing now, these skirts only making them dream more”

“Nine”

You were sobbing by now, his hand on your jaw making it hard to breathe and speak

“Who is a whore?” “I am”

“Who is my whore?

“I am”

He smirked, he was pleased giving you one last whip, the hair of the bow falling down as some of them broke, oh you know too well how much that will cost you, Andrea wasn’t one to easily ruin something like that.

“Ten!”

You almost shouted it, your thighs trembling and knees kept closing and parting trying to find some relief.

Andrea leaned down kissing the back of your neck as he gave you time to calm down, let the humiliation sink in.

“Andrea” Ursula’s voice rang from behind the door “Are you quite alright? Dinner is almost ready”

“I am! Y/N and I need a moment” he said, his voice completely different and far from the dark threatening voice that poured over you a second before “We will be down in ten!” As he spoke he touched over your wet slit, how shamelessly you were patching his pants with all that excitement, so slowly began playing with you, you winced biting on the fabric of his tailored cloths trying to hold back any sound while those skilled violist fingers kept scissoring inside of you. “We haven’t done yet”

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

#andrea marowski #andrea marowski x you #andrea marowski fanfiction #andrea marowski smut #andrea marowski fanfic #andrea marowski x reader #andrea marowski fic

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heliads · 3 years

Text

A Questioning

You’re a journalist in Manhattan, just like your best friend, Katherine Pulitzer. You’ve also been sent to interview the Brooklyn newsies when a certain Spot Conlon catches your eye.

masterlist

You straighten your hair, your clothes, the bag hanging at your waist. You’ve been to plenty of places all up and down New York City on reporting business before, you’re not sure why this one occasion has you so worried. It could just be that this article is going to be one of the most important articles you’ve written yet, or it could be because you’re going to be headed to Brooklyn, a place known for the particular hostility frequented by the same newsboys you’re supposed to be interviewing.

Eventually, your friend has enough of your frenetic fixing of your appearance, grabbing your hands and forcing you to stop moving. Katherine Pulitzer, already well introduced to the newsboys of New York, does not have time for silly things such as fear. “Y/N, you’re going to be fine. Honestly.” You sigh, looking at her morosely. “You don’t know that. I mean, what if they don’t even want to do the article at all? That’ll send me back to the review pages forever.”

Katherine rolls her eyes. “Even if the Brooklyn newsies took one look at you and decided never to say a word to any reporter again- which they won’t- you couldn’t be fired if you tried. Your last piece on the strike was fantastic. That’s why they’re giving you this opportunity, right? Because they know you’ll be perfect.” Despite your growing nerves, this is true. You had taken advantage of the hubbub of the city following the Children’s Crusade and the newsboy strike, interviewing teenage shoe shiners and elevator operators alike. They hadn’t been willing to speak to that many people, so your words were broadcasted up and down the city. It had been fantastic for the sales of that issue of the newspaper, and fantastic for your career.

So, you’ve been handed a reporting opportunity regarding the future of the strikers once more. This time, you’ll be tracking down the newsies of a select borough, talking to them about how life working for the many New York newspapers has changed and if they still stand by their actions. This alone would be fine, were it not for the fact that you’ll be speaking to the Brooklyn newsies. It’s not that you think they’re going to attack you, more that you have no idea what to say to a group of boys whose preferred weekend activity is soaking errant teenagers. How do you convince a bunch of Brooklyn boys to spill their hearts out for your article?

However, Katherine is right. You’re going to get nowhere by merely moping around, so you pick up your bag, square your shoulders, and set off across the city. You intend to show up at the Brooklyn Lodging House around the late afternoon, when the boys will all have finished selling their papes, so you can talk to them freely without interrupting their work schedule.

Despite your forced confidence, you can’t help but feel doubt descend on you as you walk through the streets of Brooklyn. You’ve spoken to a few of the Manhattan newsies before, mainly Jack (at Katherine’s insistence) as well as Davey and Crutchie. From what they tell you, the Brooklyn boys are completely different. Even Jack is hesitant to talk to Spot Conlon when he’s in a bad mood.

Regardless of your hesitations, you’re still a reporter, and you have to get through this job. You’ve been through enough with the idiot journalists on your newspaper team that you can’t stomach returning an empty pad of paper to them, so you must walk on. Even certain death at the hands of the Brooklyn boys is better than the jeering looks you’re sure to endure if you back down. So, you walk resolutely across the cobblestones, pausing only once before the door of the Brooklyn Lodging House to settle your thoughts before marching past the threshold.

All eyes descend on you the second the door clicks shut behind you. The boys look up, curious as to why you could possibly be there. Remembering yourself, you clear your throat once before you start talking, delivering the speech you’d run through countless times in your head on the walk over. “Good afternoon. My name is Y/N, and I’m a journalist for the Evening Telegram. I’d like to speak to you about how life has changed after the strikes.”

There’s silence in the room, a deafening silence that seems to press in on you from every corner of the dimly lit gathering. At last, one boy steps towards you, shirt smeared slightly from the grime of the streets. He sneers down at you. “Why would we talk to a goil like you?” Indignation flares up in you, and you speak again before you can stop yourself. “Maybe if you talked to a goil like me, you could actually manage to use your brain more than once a week. You might even be able to know important things like telling your left from your right.”

The boy stands there, stunned, but before he can open his mouth to say anything else a voice rings out from the open door behind you. You turn around to see a new boy entering, this one clad in a red shirt and a gray cap that hides the top of his dark curls. “Damn, Giant, she killed you. Is this what all journalists are like? We might have to have more articles written just to meet you all.” You freeze slightly, recognizing him from the descriptions Katherine gave you. “Are you Spot Conlon?”

The boy grins even wider. “Guilty as charged. Is there a reason you’re here, other than insulting my boys?” You wince at that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I was here to ask you some questions about life after the strike? It’s for an article I’m writing.” Spot, however, does not seem bothered by the fact that you’ve offended one of his newsboys. Instead, he just waves for you to follow him down the hall and into a room that likely serves as his office. “He can take it. Come on, I can answer your questions without everyone looking on.”

You stand in his office of sorts for a second, hands still closed tightly around your notepad as you try and fail to think of what to do next. Although you may have planned out the first thing to say upon finding the Brooklyn newsies, you’re not entirely sure where to go from here. There was no line in your schedule where you dissed one of the biggest boys there, and nothing saying what to do when Spot Conlon asked to be alone with you in his office.

Speaking of which, the dark-haired boy clears his throat, looking meaningfully at your pen and paper. “Well? Don’t you have some questions to ask?” You turn to him with an embarrassed smile. “Right! Um, how has taking part in the strike changed work as a newsie? Do you feel more protected by the presence of Roosevelt in office? Do you believe that Pulitzer and the other newspaper companies could work together in the future to minimize chances of another successful strike while still lowering the cost of the papers, or was your strike crucial enough to allow you to retain your autonomy in the selling industry?”

Spot blinks at you for a second, surprised, then lets another grin stretch across his face. “I see you came prepared. Well, I can’t speak for everyone when I say this, but I suppose we’se doing alright for ourselves. Pulitzer knows better than to try and change the prices again, not after the stunt we pulled.” You nod. “You think you’re protected by the public’s disapproval of Pulitzer?” Spot shrugs. “Something like that.”

You finish scribbling down his answers, then tap your pen against your notebook, contemplating something he’d said. “You mentioned something about how you couldn’t speak for everyone. I thought Brooklyn was one of the most important boroughs in New York? I mean, a lot of the Manhattan newsboys get nervous whenever they have to head over here on business endeavors.”

Spot chuckles. “That may be true, but we all got our own opinions. Part of how you stay on top isn’t just your fists, it’s your head. You have to pick the right fights, you know?” You jot this down. When you look up, he’s regarding you with a faint smile, one he doesn’t even appear to know is there. “That’s oddly wise for someone who claims to spend all his time fighting or selling papes.” Spot flashes you a grin. “Are you putting that in the papers, too? About how I’m oddly wise?”

You can feel your cheeks burning. “Probably not.” Spot shrugs, although his grin is shameless. “Unfortunate. I wouldn’t have minded it being there.” He lets you stew for a second longer, then extends a hand to you. “Here, it’s getting dark out. You’ll want to be back in ‘Hattan before too long.” You take it, letting him lead you to the door. He pauses once before opening the door, still keeping your conversation between the two of you. “Oh, and Miss Reporter? You can come back any time you like.”

Spot ends up walking you back to Manhattan, despite your protests that you knew exactly where you were going. He’d simply tossed you a wink, saying something about how he wants to make sure his guests get home safely, especially when they’re pretty reporters. You could tell from the victorious grin on his face that he’d said it just to mess with you, although to be entirely honest with yourself, you’re not sure that you mind at all.

You end up writing the entire article that night, still abuzz over the conversation and the moonlit walk back to your apartment. The clatter of your typewriter fills the empty spaces in the room, and you drown out the sounds of the city with the spill of thoughts onto paper. In the end, you’re left with an entirely excellent article, and a growing want to go back to Brooklyn and keep talking to the dark-haired boy who seemed to find nothing more interesting than trying to rile you up.

As it turns out, you’ll get your wish- your boss thinks your work is excellent, ordering you back to spend another day among the Brooklyn newsies. You’re all too happy to accept, and the delighted grin on Spot’s face when he sees you darkening his door once more is only the icing on the cake.

You end up spending a lot more time in Brooklyn, even after the focus of your articles leaves Brooklyn and the newsies behind. You can’t help it- something about his maddening grin, or the way he always looks for you in the crowd, makes you want to keep coming back again and again. Spot certainly doesn’t mind, and he ends up coming to visit you too, sneaking in through the fire escape of your apartment window so your landlady doesn’t suspect a thing.

In the end, you’re not sure that there could have been any other ending to your time with Spot. He tells you he loves you after a couple weeks, you can’t help but feel the same. You’ve spent your time wandering up and down the streets of New York, and you’re certain that there is no one in the entire city that makes you feel quite as happy or as free as Spot. He just has this way of making you feel like the brightest star in the entire sky, although he’s more than willing to stay up late stargazing with you if you want to see if there are any contenders to your status.

Sometimes there are days when no one seems in the spirit to buy a paper, or the other men at your newspaper seem like they’ll never truly see you as an equal. That’s when you take a visit over to the lodging house, finding solace in whispered words and smiles even when you feel the worst. Life in New York might be hard, but at least you have Spot. To you, that is enough.

#spot conlon #spot conlon imagines #spot conlon x reader #spot conlon oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies spot #newsies spot imagines #newsies spot x reader #newsies spot oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live x reader #newsies live oneshot

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sonnet009 · 3 years

Text

Wilder: Jamal’s Story (Route Summary)

PROLOGUE:

MC decides to flee Ziya alone. A rotund wine merchant named Barlow offers her a timely rescue, smuggling her out in one of the wagons in his caravan. On their journey across the Shining Sands MC learns that Barlow is a wealthy and ambitious man who can afford not only a team of djinn guards but even a pleasure slave. It is this pleasure slave who warns MC that Barlow intends to ransom her back to Ziya and urges her to leave the caravan. Though afraid, MC chooses to stay rather than risk facing the desert alone. Jamal is not pleased at the prospect of continuing to share his wagon.

CHAPTER I:

The caravan stops so Barlow can take his dinner out under the stars. MC joins him and Jamal while the djinn guards keep watch. Barlow is very blatant about his sexual relationship with Jamal and Jamal for his part fawns over Barlow in return. MC has never seen anything like it. Left alone for a few moments, Jamal teases MC that she can't keep her eyes off him.

During the next day's travel the caravan is attacked by a raiding group of djinn come down from the Western Hills. The djinn guards rally around Barlow to protect him but change their minds when the leader of the wild djinn offers them a free life with the tribe. Barlow and MC are pushed onto their knees, faces in the sand, and Barlow is beheaded. MC hears Jamal's horrified gasp.

MC does not share Barlow's fate. She is restrained and brought back to the Hills with the tribe and their new recruits. She is not sure why, but feels in her heart that this is no salvation.

CHAPTER II:

While the new djinn are welcomed into the tribe, Jamal sneaks over to where MC has been tied. He probes her about her rich, important family and muses that she must have connections in Umar. Though he knew she was fleeing Ziya he doesn't seem to have the full story – he certainly doesn't know that MC is an accused murderer and therefore utterly without connections or power.

After a ritual in which each new djinn must eat a piece of a raw deer heart, the disgusted Jamal has had enough. In the dead of night he frees MC in return for her promise to take him to Umar. They catch their breath by the river but are soon discovered by one of the ex-guards whose disdain for Jamal the pleasure slave is obvious. He calls out for the rest of the tribe and MC and Jamal run.

The tribe pursues them far, all the way to the base of the mountainous Knives. With little other choice, MC and Jamal head up – away from the Hills but only into more danger.

CHAPTER III:

MC offers condolences for Barlow's death. Jamal is dismissive and MC realises that though he appeared to adore the man it was all just an act. He doesn't miss Barlow, just the security that being his personal slave offered. Jamal insists that MC is his master now, though MC insists that she is not. Jamal reveals his intention for MC to sell him to a famous pleasure house in Umar, and for that she has to be his master.

Jamal whines and gripes the whole way up the mountain path. In contrast, MC finds a fortitude within herself she never knew she had. In the night he attempts to seduce her though she rebuffs him, saying, “I told you, you don't need to do that.” The next day they stumble into the path of a mountain lion. Jamal hides behind MC while she scares it away.

They come across a hot spring and MC spends most of her time trying to avoid looking at Jamal's naked and shameless displays designed to get her attention. But when he asks her to wash his hair it is with genuine, vulnerable wanting so she does so. It is the most intimate moment MC has ever shared with anyone.

CHAPTER IV:

In the sprawling farmland on the other side of the mountains, MC and Jamal are caught in a sudden downpour. Sheltering in an old barn, they share a sweet, quiet moment that turns into an argument when she once again refuses to claim him as her slave. MC is secretly very drawn to Jamal, but fears that his affection is all a lie and that she will be taking advantage of their positions if she lets herself believe him. He accuses her of looking down on him and gives her the cold shoulder. This means that MC has missed another chance to confess that she is not the connected noblewoman he believes her to be.

As they continue on their journey in strained silence, a group of bandits appear and block their path. MC is afraid but not as afraid as Jamal. However, when one of the men grabs MC and makes lewd comments, Jamal exclaims, “Hey!” surprising no one more than himself. As the scene turns to violence, MC and Jamal learn that even a light slap from a djinn whose claws have been growing for weeks can be devastating to a human body. MC thanks Jamal for his protection while he desperately tries to get the blood out from under his nails.

They finally make it to Dijarah, a port town where MC intends to board a ship sailing for Umar. The one problem? She has no money.

CHAPTER V:

To earn money in Dijarah, an innkeeper agrees to hire MC and Jamal to work in the kitchen. Jamal is aghast at the prospect, especially when he meets the old battleaxe of a cook on whom his charms utterly fail. Jamal is terrible at every practical task put before him and, after only a few days, is utterly miserable.

MC is gentle and encouraging with Jamal, and he eventually is able to put aside his pride (a little) and improve. He finds it amusing to think of a world in which he worked here instead of as a pleasure slave. But when MC takes this question seriously he balks and insists that he would never want an unglamorous life like this. “I know what I am,” he says quietly.

As the two grow closer, Jamal tells MC the story of his life. Bred illegally and born sick, Jamal was passed under the table from master to master, role to role, failing at all of them. Finally dumped in a pleasure house as an insult, Jamal actually flourished there – able to put his natural charm and artistic talents to use. That is why he cannot even consider another life. MC asks if he would choose the same life if he were a free man. Jamal goes quiet and does not answer.

CHAPTER VI:

One day MC walks into the kitchen to see Jamal scrubbing pots with all his might then absent mindedly tidying up some things – not as part of his assigned task but just because it needs doing. MC announces herself and they compare their palm callouses and growing arm muscle. One night Jamal is asked to perform for the inn's patrons by playing the lute – he is giddy with excitement to be the centre of attention once more, though the audience is not his usual clientele. He plays and sings beautifully and MC sets off a standing ovation that nearly makes him cry.

An evening shift turns tense when a group of drunkards start causing trouble. Jamal shocks everyone by taking charge of the situation and intimidating them into leaving. Though, as soon as they are gone, his legs turn to liquid and he slides to the floor declaring how terrifying the whole thing was. The innkeeper draws him a hot bath in thanks. Jamal asks MC to wash his hair again. Though she won't join him in the tub – despite his persistence – Jamal does wash and style her hair for her in return.

Finally MC and Jamal have enough money to book passage on a ship. As they are boarding MC catches sight of Hamza in the crowded street. She drags Jamal away to avoid getting caught, though now she is less afraid of being arrested than she is being exposed to Jamal who still doesn't know that she is a fugitive. She resolves that she must tell him soon, even if it ruins the... friendship... that seems to finally be blossoming between them.

CHAPTER VII:

Hamza has also boarded so MC spends most of her time hiding in her cabin – and Jamal has no objections to passing the days relaxing on a soft bed. She tries many times to broach his misconceptions about her but is consistently thwarted by interruptions and her own cowardice. A rich passenger tries to buy some time with Jamal from MC but she staunchly refuses. Jamal is delighted by this, then confused as to why he is so delighted.

One night they lie side by side on the bed and MC asks Jamal why he is so set on being sold to this particular brothel. He explains that, not only is it a famous venue, but if they purchase him then by Umar’s laws he will no longer be a slave but an indentured servant. MC says that isn’t good enough – she wants to free him. Jamal is dismissive of such an impossible idea but MC insists that Lord Yasir, the most powerful man in Umar, could surely help them. Jamal asks why MC would be seeking Yasir’s help for herself and she prepares to finally tell him the truth when– the ship’s bell rings. They have arrived.

Hamza catches sight of MC at just the wrong moment. She drags Jamal off the ship, pushing past everyone else, and manages to lose Hamza in the moonlit streets of Umar. They come to Minerva’s Pleasure House. Inside is a whole new world to MC but Jamal is in his element. Then he goes quiet. “I don’t want you to leave me here. I want to stay with you. I want to be–”. The madam interrupts, realises exactly who MC is, and throws her and Jamal out of the place, calling MC a murderer and threatening to tell the authorities if either of them ever return.

CHAPTER VIII:

MC hurries to Yasir’s estate, a confused and suspicious Jamal with her, and fortunately finds the merchant-turned-lord to be very welcoming and willing to provide sanctuary. Jamal confronts MC and she finally admits everything. Jamal is devastated. He accuses her of using him, of dragging him through danger and hardship just for the amusement of it, of being just as rotten as Barlow and the others. “You think so little of me. You think nothing of me.” MC cannot explain her actions without admitting – to Jamal and to herself – that she has been falling in love with him. Jamal is stunned. Then he turns and leaves the manor.

He returns in the morning and apologises for leaving, kissing MC on the cheek and saying that he understands she was only doing what she had to do – she’s a survivor. He turns down MC’s attempts to make him a free man and instead asks Yasir to use his influence to place him in the pleasure house. “No more pretending,” he says in response to MC’s protestations. “I know what I am.” Yasir arranges for the madam to accept him as an indentured servant.

MC and Jamal say a fraught goodbye in the gaudy room that is to be Jamal’s from now on. Jamal kisses MC and, at his soft declaration that he has fallen in love with her too, she gives in to her passion and they come together in a tangle of flesh and emotion. After, as they lie in bed, the door is kicked down and in bursts Hamza to arrest MC. Jamal is remarkably unsurprised. “I should’ve known it was all a lie from the beginning. All those things you said about my potential. Trying to make me doubt who I am; what I am. But you know something, mistress?” There is nothing but cold resolve in his eyes. “I’m a survivor too.”

CHAPTER IX:

MC is transported back to Ziya to face her execution. She spends the journey thinking on Jamal. That night he left the manor he must have gone to Hamza to arrange the ambush. Anger and betrayal come in cycles but always give way to regret and the knowledge that she brought this on herself. MC’s execution is a public event on the steps of the shah’s palace, but the proceedings are suddenly interrupted by Jamal and Yasir’s right-hand-djinn Royo. Since MC was under Umar’s protection, Ziya’s actions in abducting her have been taken as a hostile act. Hamza takes justice into his own hands and attacks MC with his sword. Jamal tries to protect her but she pushes him away, taking the blade in her chest.

MC wakes in her old bedroom in her Aunt and Uncle’s villa. The blade missed her heart and, though badly wounded, she will live. Jamal is by her bedside. He asserts that he hasn’t forgiven her, and he’ll never forgive himself, but he wants her to know that Hamza was the one who caught and pressured him into the betrayal that night, and Jamal convinced himself that she deserved it. But he regretted it immediately and went running to Yasir for help. He confesses that he wasn’t lying when he said he’d fallen in love with her. He thinks that’s their shared fatal flaw – they’re dreamers.

When MC next wakes quite a lot of time has passed. This time it is Royo who comes to see her, informing her that the political pressure from Umar – and Yasir specifically – has worked. To avoid trouble between the two cities, Ziya has agreed not to execute MC but to exile her. Royo must return to Umar now but says that MC is welcome there once she is well enough to travel. MC asks after Jamal but Royo shakes her head. He is waiting by the carriage to leave and will not return to the villa. MC asks Royo to take something with her when she goes – a letter addressed to the madam of Minerva’s.

BITTER END:

When Jamal sees her in Minerva’s he covers his shock by asking if she is there to taste him once again. They go to his room and MC interrupts his cold, emotionless seduction with the last of the money he needs to truly be free. He insists at first to not want it then finally cracks open, tears spilling down his cheeks. “But where would I go?” MC says he can go with her if he likes. He doesn’t answer, conflicted, still so afraid to trust. MC backs off and says he can go wherever he wants to go; anywhere in the world. She leaves the pleasure house but lingers outside, hoping that when Jamal comes out a free man he will choose to go with her after all.

SWEET END:

Two years have passed since the almost-execution and MC has been travelling ever since, working tirelessly in whatever jobs she can in order to save money and send it periodically to Minerva’s to bit by bit pay off Jamal’s “debt” to the pleasure house. However when she journeys to Umar with the final payment she is informed by the madam that Jamal has already been freed from his contract and left months ago. MC turns to Royo for help, who informs her that Jamal had also been working hard to pay for his freedom – taking on extra chores and responsibilities at Minerva's – and that last she knew he was heading for Dijarah.

MC sets sail immediately. When she disembarks at Dijarah’s docks she is stunned to find Jamal waiting, Royo having sent word ahead. There is a tense moment of uncertainty then Jamal launches himself at her, catching her in a tight embrace. He thanks her for contributing so much to buying his freedom and says he’s never worked so hard for anything before – for the chance to live a free life. To stand before MC as an equal. To say he loves her and for it to be the simple truth. Hand-in-hand, Jamal escorts MC to his new place of employment – the inn in which they spent so much time before. He winks. “I hear they're hiring. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

#Wilder #Jamal #Route Summary

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the-blue-fairie · 3 years

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When I think about my reservations with Elsa’s arc in Frozen 2, the first thought that comes into my head is, Why?

People defend Elsa’s arc in Frozen 2 by saying it connects to her feelings of liberation and freedom during Let it Go, but then why does the film itself have Elsa cringe at Let it Go?

Why does the film, instead of building on what would seem to be a coherent emotional through-line between the two films, undermine that through-line?

Well, for a cheap joke for the audience-members who got sick of Let it Go - because the moment isn’t for Elsa. It’s for the audience-members... but not for the audience members who... felt something... because of Let it Go.

And you can say, “Well, it’s just a joke,” but why a joke that imparts a sense of shame, a joke that isn’t really character driven but just an attempt by Disney to seem “hip” while still reinforcing the brand?

You can try to defend it all you want in-universe by saying, “Well, it’s okay to be ashamed of certain aspects of yourself and still retain things from your embarrassing past that were formative,” but that just makes me ask again - why does she have to be ashamed of that moment? Why does she have to be ashamed of her shamelessness? (And my heart answers, Because it’s not about Elsa’s character. It’s an in-joke for the audience, even if it undermines Elsa’s character.)

Why undermine that emotional through-line? Now, when people try to bring up Let it Go as an emotional through-line to Show Yourself, I can point out, “Yes, but if that’s the film’s point, then the film goes out of its way to undermine its own point.”

Why not further explore Elsa’s interactions with the Northuldra? Why not give more scenes of Elsa bonding with Yelana, bonding with Honeymaren, bonding with other Northuldra characters? Why not give the Northuldra more screentime? Even if you feel the film gave the Northuldra a decent amount of screentime, why not give them further development when doing that would only be helpful to Elsa’s arc?

Why spend more time on Elsa bonding with the spirits than with the Northuldra? I know you can say, “Well, the spirits are magical and magic is deeply personal to Elsa and she wants to explore this side of herself,” but unfortunately, that focus makes Elsa’s arc less relatable because the spirits don’t really have dialogue. It’s harder to connect with Elsa bonding with the nokk that just tried to drown her.

But do you know what it’s easier to connect with? Elsa, the character who was forced to live in isolation for years, getting a chance to connect with more people. That’s why Elsamaren was such an explosive ship - because people connect more to people bonding with people - even when they only share a few lines. Because audiences WANT to build upon Honeymaren’s character because the film didn’t do that for them.

Do you know what it’s easier to connect with? More scenes of Elsa interacting with and learning from her mother’s people after learning her mother’s heritage.

Why not taken advantage of the most deeply human aspects of Elsa’s story? Just because the nokk... looks cooler and you can sell more plushies if you focus more on the abstract magical elements than the human elements?

Also, this is unrelated to Elsa’s arc, but I wished F2 explored Anna’s connection to the Northuldra more. F2 really stresses Anna’s connection to Arendelle, and the deleted song Home stresses that connection to Arendelle even more - and I know it’s to set up Anna as Arendelle’s future queen, but has the unfortunate side effect of feeling like the film is putting the sisters into boxes. Elsa is the magical one so she connects more with the magical Forest. Anna connects more to Arendelle. “Mythic character” vs “fairytale character” as Jen Lee put it. Neat little character boxes. But Anna is as much Northuldra as Elsa and I just wish all the attempted foreshadowing and building of Anna’s connection to Arendelle didn’t take focus away from Anna’s connection to the Northuldra.

(Also, to anybody out there who might use what I just said as an excuse to be overly negative towards Elsa to prop up Anna... don’t do that. Please.)

And I know F2 is an ambitious film already cluttered with many ideas, but some of these topics would actually convey those ideas more clearly and cohesively than the finished film.

#frozen #frozen 2 #elsa

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years

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“Dance For Me.”

A/N: Here’s your pole-dancing AU you bunch of thirsty… people on discord. Idk, I’m bad at… trashtalk if it’s not for self-defense. I also don’t cuss unless it’s in fics. Because I’m technically not cussing, the characters are *wink wink*.

Batting second after Lary! Khazumi~ Coming in! Unless someone already finished before I did and I didn’t notice, haha.

I’m not one to write NSFW. At least not for public… consumption. Borderline, yes. But like… I suck at NSFW, not gonna lie. I’ll try my very best?

I'm also sorry that I can't write pole dancing very well. Hope you can... picture out what's going on. haha.

Weirdest thing I searched for confirmation while writing this was ‘during intercourse are your pupils constricted or dilated’ Because my mind is so lost rn hahha.

My timeline here is before Christmas. I’m sorry. I need it.

Basically, I'm sorry for this trashy fic.

ayt.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

This… is not quite what Diana expected when she left Akko this morning for work at the estate.

The past few months, Akko had been busy with teaching her classes at Luna Nova, on top of performing her scheduled weekend shows in town that the woman just wouldn’t give up the chance to do. Always for the smiles, always for the people’s happiness.

And Diana loves her for that, she really does. Dear Beatrix, she loves her wife- of three years now- to death.

But while she had been excitedly looking forward to the holidays, winter rolling around, expecting that she’d finally have her wife-mind you- all to herself, said wife had other plans, it seems.

Akko had agreed to be booked almost daily this season, and despite being home in Diana’s arms each night, she had absolutely zero energy to do anything but snuggle up to the former heiress and fall asleep in the blink of an eye.

Diana had pouted for days on end, telling Akko to give her one day, to spend just one day with her.

Akko, despite all her regrets of leaving her wife like this, couldn’t just cancel. But she had promised to dedicate the two days before the twenty-fifth, right up ‘til the end of vacation to her lovely spouse.

And Diana has to reluctantly agree. She knows in her heart that this is Akko’s passion, it’s what makes her the amazing woman known for her beautiful believing heart.

Diana just needs patience. So much patience.

But then, on the day of Christmas Eve, she gets a call from the manor. It’s related to the estate. About a sudden accident with one of her people. She couldn’t not go. At least she’d try to finish up early so she could offer her remaining time to-

Akko’s phone rings.

It’s a special request. A little girl’s birthday. And she just had to see the amazing Kagari (-Cavendish) Atsuko perform her special magic. Now this wouldn’t have been that much of a problem had the party been in the morning or early afternoon, however it appeared as though it would take place around five pm. Diana knows it will run overtime. It always does. Everyone loves to bask in the presence and utter warmth of ‘Atsuko’ after all.

So, Begrudgingly, they both prepare for their respective agendas, Diana feeling absolutely depressed over the fact that she would be coming home for Christmas eve to an empty house, cold halls, devoid of the calming scent and lovely voice of her wife singing her favorite Shiny Chariot showtune from the kitchen as she cooked all of Diana’s favorites.

Akko notices. She always does.

She walks up to the sulking blonde, cupping her face in her hands, chuckling at those pouty lips, those teary eyes. “I’m really sorry, my Diana.” She whispers. “Really, I am.”

Diana sighs in defeat, pulling her wife into one last bearhug before work.

“Can I at least have my own Magical Atsuko show?” She uncharacteristically turns her puppy eyes to her wife, only ever showing Akko this spoiled child within.

“I’ll only give you the very best.”

“With a little song?”

“Whatever you’d like

“Mm…” Diana nodded, looking down at her feet before raising her head, one last question on her mind. “Dance for me?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Akko laughed, nuzzling her nose on Diana’s. “But for now,” She pinches the taller witch’s nose playfully before planting a kiss. “This is for the kids.”

…

This is DEFINITELY NOT “for the kids”. For any kids. For anyone for that matter. Diana would never show this to anyone. Over her dead. Lifeless. Fucking. Body.

Nonononono. Diana shakes her head a thousand times internally.

No.

Just no.

Diana gasps as she drops her suitcase on the floor, the contents spilling out at the impact. She had not expected this of all things. She imagined coming home to an empty house, no Akko, and miserable reheated food.

She hadn’t expected unlocking her door to the smells of a rotisserie chicken, some wine, and Akko’s homely scent.

She wasn’t expecting the low thrum of music in the background. She didn’t think that her wife would stand in front of her, in her usual show outfit- no. Wait. This isn’t her show outfit.

Like hell she’d wear that to a children’s party!!

No, this. THIS… This is a knock-off Shiny Chariot costume that is far too skimpy to be sold to the young and pure fans of Chariot. This is one of those costumes you’d see them sell adults for dumb pranks on Halloween, or see it at those kinds of shops.

How did Akko even get that?

Online?

The internet is truly fearsome. Shameless. So Shameless.

And so is Diana as she gawks at her pretty wife, donning a very short white skirt, a top that very much exposes her midriff- technically, only holding together those perky mounds-, a cape that is probably the only thing covering her wife that can be counted as decent, thigh-high- gosh- those thigh-high boots, hair free of that small side pony-tail; and that signature white witch hat tops off the ensemble.

“Welcome home~” Akko greets with her usual cheer, expression innocent and beaming, before it shifts a sultry color, tone dropping into a hushed invitation. “Diana.”

Said woman is quiet, she struggles to form a response.

Akko.

‘Let’s try saying your wife’s name now, Diana Cavendish.’

“A-A-A-A… aaahhhh…”

Oh, Great Beatrix, give me strength.

A lot of it. A trolley’s worth, if you must.

…-and stamina. Please. Strength and stamina to endure.

And Clearly Diana isn’t wishing to hold her ground against temptation.

She might just have a long night ahead.

“Diana.”

“Y-yes! I’m l-listening. Very clearly… most…. Definitely…” She says whilst staring at the gracious amounts of cleavage-

“Of course you are, babe.” Akko chuckles in that sickeningly sweet tone, taking a step forward as Diana takes one back. “Where are you going?” She takes another, as does Diana in the opposite direction, her back meeting the hard wood of their front door.

“N-nowhere, I’m… I’m Home.” Diana feels her hands become clammy, shaking, as she wonders where to put them.

“Heh~… I thought you were running away or something.” Akko smiles kindly, actions not as kind. She traps Diana with her body, arms on either side of her head. “And I wouldn’t like that. Would you?” Her eyes flutter innocently, lashes long, eyes wide.

There was clearly only one correct answer.

“N-no.”

“Good.” Akko laughs like gentle chimes, pleasant to the ear.

Diana smiles, feeling a little more relaxed.

-Before one hand comes off the wall and now climbs up her torso, Akko’s index and middle fingers walking up to Diana’s tie before her hand takes it, pulling it out of the vest.

“I always liked it when you wore ties.” She murmured, eyes blank and scrutinizing the tie. Before Diana could respond, Akko was already resting her head on Diana’s chest, hand absent-mindedly twirling the thin red tie. “I also like that you wear my colors on you.” Akko raised her head, pulling on Diana’s tie so that their faces came so incredibly close to one another, lips a hair’s breadth apart. “Tells people that you're mine.”

That effectively steals the air out of Diana’s lungs as Akko steps back, still holding fast to the tie, pulling Diana along, as if on a leash. Her Japanese wife leads her to the living room and sits her down on their amazingly comfortable couch.

But not even that could ease Diana’s tense nerves.

“H-Hi.”

“Hi, Diana.” Akko greets back, leaning over her wife, a finger gliding from the base of Diana’s throat to her jaw, tipping it up to guide blue eyes up to meet the most intoxicating wine. “What was your last little request for me this morning, again?”

“I- I… uh… um…”

“Yes?” The brunette lowers her body onto Diana’s head tucked between the poor heiress’ shoulder and neck, peppering kisses along her jaw. “Please remember, darling. I really want to do it for you, you know?” She chuckles, biting on a certain spot near Diana’s throat making her yelp, then licking the area to ease the pain. “I prepared really well for it. I tried so hard for you.”

Definitely not the only thing that was hard, Diana thinks.

An uncontrolled whine tears its way out of the blonde’s mouth, mind desperately trying to remember what the hell she last asked.

Then it clicks.

“D-dance…”

“Hmm?”

“Dance for me…?”

Akko seems elated with her answer, nuzzling her neck once before pulling away, Diana missing her warmth… or heat. Or both.

“With pleasure.”

Diana is sure there will be a lot of pleasure involved.

With a flick of her wand (where had Akko hidden that?), a pole rises from the floor in the open space of the room. Akko stalks hypnotizingly towards it, grasping the hard metal with one hand before smoothly pulling herself into her first twirl.

‘Oh Great Nine. This is one of those dances, isn’t it?’

Diana swallows so painfully, finding her throat constricted, the opposite to her dilating pupils as she watches her wife with the focus of a predator waiting on its prey.

Off goes the cape, and Diana only now realizes just how little of her wife’s ass is actually covered by that skirt.

She loves Akko’s ass- She loves Akko. Period.

-along with her thighs and bottom.

She admires her better half’s toned body, muscles flexing and simply wonderful as Akko spins herself around the pole gracefully, hanging onto it with only one hand. The elegance of the movements allows Diana to forget her barely restrained arousal, leaving her in awe for a few moments.

Then a toned leg wraps itself around the pole, Akko rolling her body up against it, turning her gaze to Diana, eyes half-lidded and so sinful. All that talk about grace- screw it, right now.

Another twirl, and another, and another.

Akko climbs her way up the pole so sensually, Diana wishes she were the one being climbed like that. Then Akko stops near the top, almost as though she was frozen. Diana waits with bated breath, before Akko’s hands suddenly release the pole, falling backwards; and Diana panics, thinking something happened and her wife was about to hit the ground hard- but only the hat does so. Akko’s body hangs smoothly in the air, legs squeezing tight, flexing those amazing thighs.

Oh, to be between them instead.

The spinning restarts. Repeats over and over, legs stretching out, then pulling in. At times, an arm would reach out, almost as if it were inviting the audience in, to come closer; to come touch this performer. Then Akko lowers herself to the ground, movements sophisticated, nimble, body poised, and oh so sensual. It’s an interpretative dance, and there must be story behind it.

Diana just doesn’t have enough brain power to process it.

She gasps as her wife stands up; the skirt is forgone, leaving Akko in racy black panties that matches her top that might as well not exist. And again, she’s on that pole, embracing it, caressing it with one hand, down to her body, allowing her palm to slide down her chest to a taut stomach, abs glistening in sweat, before reaching down her legs, and between her thighs, then out, back to latching onto the pole.

The loss of garment shouldn’t distract her. She’s sure this action was to give her wife better grip on the pole. Definitely the reason. Yes. Not because this was… was a… that.

Of course.

Breaking the unspoken rule of silence, a voice suddenly begs for her attention.

“Diana…”

…

Fuck.

“Nnmm!”

Diana throws her head back for a second, needing to relieve her burdened senses at the sight that had just greeted her mere moments ago.

Akko had basically rubbed herself against the pole, her most intimate place surely touching it as she slid up then down, dropping into an air-split, barely hovering over the ground, still twirling, yet painfully slow this time, basically presenting herself to the very red mess breathing heavily on the couch.

Diana’s not sure she can stay seated anymore. She’s been holding back. She’s certain she can’t keep holding back.

“But why are you holding back?”

The question throws her for a loop, eyes so wide, as she stares at Akko’s tantalizing figure, draped over her pole, breathing as difficultly as Diana is.

She releases her show equipment, leaving the pole to disappear as she strides forward provocatively, halting in front of Diana, placing her hands down on the blonde’s open lap, freeing them from their squeezed-together position just moments ago. They massage at Diana’s thighs, and the heiress moans, unsuppressed.

Her dancer takes a seat on her lap, hands busying themselves with loosening Diana’s tie a bit more, removing it from her before Akko slings it around her own neck.

“You are so mean, Diana… even after I called for you so many times…” Akko whispers against her lips, eyes fiery and slightly angered. Diana’s hands are guided to rest on Akko’s hips as she grinds against her wife needily. “Utterly horrible.”

It should be the winter season as it was Christmas. Diana knows that the outside world was harshly cold and chilly, but that temperature did not seem to apply to her. Most definitely not within Diana, and most definitely not between her leee-heeeeg- ‘damn you, Akko’.

“Why would you not come for me?”

‘Which ‘come’ might we be discussing here’, Diana wonders.

“I… I didn’t know… my apologies.” Diana stutters out, distracted by the hand touching the inside of her thigh.

“Even when I made it so obvious?” Akko pouts, biting Diana’s shoulder angrily as her hands make quick work of the taller witch’s buttoned shirt. Those same hands splay against her collarbone and shoulders, caressing and teasing, moving to the back of her head to massage her scalp. The Head of Cavendish gets pulled into a long kiss, her significant other’s tongue pleading entrance as it licks along Diana’s full lips, thighs squeezing Diana’s legs.

Diana permits, giving the appendage access to explore her mouth completely, sometimes brushing against her gums, and gliding along her teeth, entangling with her own tongue. Akko pulls away with a rough nip on Diana’s lower lip.

The latter’s hand is held captive, guided somewhere along her lover’s body.

The heiress fails at hindering any sounds from escaping her as she feels hot liquid drip onto her fingers, before pooling into her open palm. So that’s where Akko had brought it.

“Diana.”

Her eyes are bewitching. Fitting of her occupation. They hold Diana’s gaze a prisoner, not against her will. They compel her to do something. Akko rubs against her once more, and Diana whimpers aloud.

“Diana.”

Arms tighten their loop against Diana’s neck. Akko’s voice still sounds calm and controlled, but her actions tell Diana that she is anything but. She’s basically riding her at this point.

“Diana.”

“Y-yesh?!” Hooded, dark, tempting. Akko’s eyes were all those things. And maybe Diana’s were too.

“Diana.”

“Yes…?” Diana feels a switch flip as her finger slips into that wet, heated space and makes Akko cry a lovely tone. She goes deaf to the world, all her focus on the woman shivering delightfully in her arms.

“Diana…”

“Yes…”

“Dance with me.”

A/N: So… sequel?

~Shintori Khazumi

#dianakko #Little Witch Academia #lwa #rated m #read at your own discretion #diana x akko #diana #diana cavendish #atsuko kagari #kagari akko #pole dancing au #fanfic

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sheakollins · 3 years

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Can humans fall in love with statures?

There was once a man called Pigmalion, a sculptor in his 30s. He was unmarried.That was neither because he didn't want to, nor because he couldn't afford to buy a house or a car. It was just because no one will consider him as a boyfriend. Pigmalion's un-praise-able looking was not the only reason. As he had been totally devoted himself to statures, People said he had become a stature himself. They respected his craft and brilliance, but who will love a breathing stature? Pigmalion has had a lot of bad breakups,for which he was recently told off by the Guinness World Records organizing committee when they suggested he apply for the record. Here we only choose two typical examples: Once his date is a lively and cheerful college girl, they came across in the National Museum. She was there as a temporary volunteer, reminding him not to lean forward like that or he would fall into the statures while he was looking at the exhibits behind the fencing.

That evening they dined at a little restaurant, where she appeared cheerful and he listened gently.

Then he asked, "What books do you read?"

Her voice slowed. When she mentioned "network novels" he suddenly commented, "Just as book is humans' spiritual food, Network novels must be the spiritual junk food."

Both of them froze.

"Which artist do you like? "He asked.

"Michelangelo... ?" she said cautiously, after thinking for a moment.

"Coincidentally, I like Nichelangelo too!" He said. Then he began to talk with great interest about Michelangelo's life, work and artistic characteristics, until he said of her: "You remind me of my history professor."

"Is it? "Pigmalion knew it was time for a change of conversation topic, and he traveled back from the Apennines of the Renaissance to talk about the manifestations of the inferior aesthetic faculties of the modern sculptor.

"Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom." She said.

She left and never come back again.

After doing a lot of reflection, Pigmalion concluded that: Never say against what a woman likes, and don't talk about something that she isn't interested in. What's more, it's better to find a more mature woman. So his next date was a woman elder than him by several years with marrige experience. This time he showed great patience and kindness towards her constantly speaking, responsed postively, and tried not to talk about anything about Michelangelo. That day in his bed, they embraced each other tightly. The woman was talking passionately about the Bridges of Madison County，Pigmalion was excited to find that they had a common topic.So he express his opinions, "The story is beautiful. But I think the woman must choose between those two men. It's irresponsible to be a fense rider." "But that was what made the story romantic. Who cares? "she said, Burying her head in his chest. Pigmalion lost the chance to renounce his words, "Romantic, yes, as a movie plot. But as a matter of fact it's immoral."

When Pigmalion woke up the next morning. He found himself lying on his bed lonely. He jumped off the bed looking for her with no clothes on his body.

At last he sat on the floor of the living room nakedly, thinking hopelessly that she had not even gave him a phone number.

Ok, I suppose everyone have got some ideas about why Pigmalion was awful lover. However, he regarded himself as a loser of love, and decided to focus all his energy on statures.

Obviously, failed loves had an unexplainable impact on him. He seldom made the stature for gods or celebrities anymore, and made a lot of naked sculptures, which he would not appreciate in the past. This change brought him better income, as the rich men always used statures of heros or gods to decorate their salons but they choosed to have statures of naked women in their bedroom（besides， they usually owned more than one bedroom).

The most successful stature of Pigmalion was a naked woman named Caritea.He had to admit that Caritea had the most delicated face, most attracting figure and the noblest temperament, but he was not so satisfied with it. Caritea, for some reason, hadn't got the sense of vigor and strength that every naked stature had. Vigor and strength were always cared by Pigmalion, so he would sometimes wonder whether he was lost in his mind when making Caritea. Its expression was too peaceful, and its posture was too reserved.But the special points maybe the reason why people loved Caritea so much. Every time they got into Pigmalion's gallery house, they would besiege it, staring at it with their mouths open. Caritea also gazed at them like holy mother watching her baby with a light smile.

Pigmalion loved looking at Caritea himself. When putting eyes on it, he would gain a sense of "spiritualization"，a sense of "detachment", which he could never gain from any other statures, or even any humans.

At the dinning time, people left the gallery house, and went to the restaurants in the city. Pigmalion Always ordered takeout food and sat aside Caritea, enjoying this lovely and comfortable time.

"Hey, do you know Plato?"he asked Caritea,

"Of course, you know. What a silly question.Do you agree with Plato about his philosophy of love?

"Oh, you are too much of an idealist.I used to be an idealist myself. But recently I started to think about this matter in another way. The fact is fact, though it is cruel. People are pragmatic. There's no such thing as spiritual love.

"You don't think so?...Why?..."

Pigmalion and Caritea talked about all kinds of philosophy opinions, attitude towards ancient art and modern art, artist and their historical contributions. Pigmalion was so excited to realised that Caritea was the greatest confidante of him.

Untouchabe style, Which was thought as Caritea's shortcoming by Pigmalion, now turned into the best part of her in his eyes. He loved her modesty, her understanding, and the stubbornness behind her gentle expression.

When he was developing a stronger and stronger preference for Caritea, more and more people decided to buy it. Those rich men were turned down by Pigmalion, and he said to himself that they know nothing about art, and they don't deserved to appreciate art.

But when famous sculpture who was recognized as the only artist worthy of the name of artist in the modern world by Pigmalion was also refused, Pigmalion had to admitted that, after Caritea convinced him in the discussion of Plato, he had have subconsciously decided not to sell it until the end of the world.

It was no more a "stature" to him.

But on a Sunday, in Pigmalion's gallery house, something gave him a good shock.

After leaving Caritea for a short time, he found it surrounded by a group of people, and there was the man, fondling Caritea bawdily from the face to the neck, from the arms to the chest, from the navel to the private parts... In doing so, the man's crotch bulged.

Pigmalion felt his head bulged as well just like someone had inflated his brain with hydrogen. He grabbed a hammer and rushed at the man.

Everybody shouted, everybody pushed, everybody ran away. The guy tried to escape into the crowds. Pig marion ran after him, crossed the square, trampled the vegetables, and pushed down the passer-bys. The man was just about to slipped into the alley, so Pigmalion threw the hammer towards his head like Thor. The hammer missed and flew into an open window.

Pigmalion didn't asked the house's owner for his hammer. He returned to his gallery house with head drooping, sat on the entablement of Caritea, and felt extremely upset. Caritea's peaceful glance couldn't comfort him this time.

"Sorry for made you suffer. It's a pity that you can't defend yourself. I will find ways to protect you from those freaks."he said to it.

That guy is so disgusting! How could he did this to a stature？Espcially to such a puregentledivine stature! It was just like raping his own mother!

Thinking in this way made Pigmalion unapologetic about his anger, but the judge didn't take it as a crime to insult a stature. Pigmalion was sentenced to be in jail for 3 days for disturbing public order.

In the 3 days in jail, Pigmalion was thinking about a problem all the time.

Should he place a billboard beside Caritea with "Don't touch" written on it?

But the people who put their ugly hands on Caritea must be totally shameless, and they won't be stopped by a "warm promot".

What about fining those who touch it? But this could not remove Pigmalion's worry. As Caritea is so desirable, he believe that fine won't prevent it from indecency, but it may raise the desire for tasting the forbidden fruit.

Then what about put a dress on it?

A normal dress is easy to be tear apart, he thought, an armor would be better.

But the blacksmith is male, when he measure its body like a tailor, he would have a lot of chance to fondle it fair and square. That should not happen.

At last, Pigmalion chose a compromise proposal: buy it a nun's outfit from a female tailor.

When the tailor was measuring Caritea's body, Pigmalion standed there, paying great attention to tailor's every movement like an anxious father.He keep reminding himself, The tailor is also a woman, she was not a homosexual, and what she is doing is just an official duty. But when the tailor's hands moved to some sensitive zones, he couldn't help thinking about cutting off that pair of hands.

But after putting on a nun's long grown for Caritea, a sick feeling began to creep in Pigmalion's mind. Gradually he started to be quite annoyed when any others look at Caritea.

He knew that this thought is abnormal but he just couldn't stand it.

Once he found a little boy dived beneath Caritea's robe, He decided to put Caritea into his bedroom, and never display it again.

Everyday when works were done, Pigmalion would return to his bedroom, chatting with Caritea about funny experiences of the day, feelings and strange ideas. He was so happy as if the loneliness of all the day had been paid back. He knew, just like he need Caritea, it need him as well because it couldn't see the world itself locked in the tiny bedroom. They are all lonely souls.

Therefore, he closed his gallery house earlier every day and go home straight.

In the midnight, when there were few people in the street, he would lift Caritea onto a cart, and brought it out for a walk.

One night, he couldn't sleep.Then he jumped out of bed, and open the light in his room.

He realised what he was going to do after he had stript Caritea's gown from its naked body.

He put the clothes on as fast as he could,

closed the light, and jumped back into his bed.

His heart was jumping fiercely as if it could break through the quilt. Holy shit, he thought, what happened to me? Am I the same as those obscene people?

At 4 a.m. in the morning, He quit fighting with sleeplessness and turned on the computer, searching: what's the difference between appreciation for art work and love?

There was no such topic in the network. Apparently no one thought there were any similarities between "appreciation for art" and "love".Pigmalion only found an answer to the difference between friendship and love:

Friendship is open while love is exclusive.

That's not completely true, he thought. There is somtimes jealousy in friendship as well, though that's not a very healthy friendship.

He recalled Schopenhauer's saying that the appreciation of works of art is "incuriosity", which is not utilitarian and does not try to occupy anything.

Finally, he said to Caritea, "Well, I found myself fall in love with you. We were so happy during this time. We talked about philosophy, we talked about art, we talked about emotions and we talked about life, we can be so matched a couple. I love you so much and wanted to spend all my life with you. But I know it is selfish to keep you in this room forever, cover your beauty with these ugly clothes, and talk to myself in front of you. So And try my best to bring you into life, then you can choose to stay or leave by yourself. Maybe you don't love me, that's okay, leaving me will be better than you have to love me." Caritea still smiled at him gently like him, lonely but kind. I love you, too. He held its hands with all his love.

He bought a plane ticket to greece when the sun rose. At the altar of Aphrodite，he prayed like the Pygmalion many years ago, asking the goddess of love bring the statute into life. The fire of the altar danced, and goddess of love appeared in the fire. "Is it what you want? You would not have a chance to renounce, I remind you."asked Aphrodite. "Yes, it is. We spent years together, Loving and supporting each other. I know Caritea will not be perfect as a human, But I can accept her unperfect just like she will accept mine."answered Pigmalion. "I know you will accept her unperfect,"said the goddess with a smile across her face," But do you insist in your wish?" "Of course I do." "Your wish is granted."Aphrodite announced and disappeared in the fire.

Pigmalion bought a bunch of rose and a ring, getting on the plane home. He knew the beautiful life is waiting for him in his house. He began to call her before he could open the door,"Caritea! I'm back! Are you alright? How do you feel? Was it uncomfortable to be a human?..." But when he walked into his bedroom, He only found entablement, the gown, and a left note on the floor.

I'm off. Thank you for your hospitality.

He breathed in relief. That's not happy ending, but that's fair enough. I knew it already, and at least I have nothing to be worried about now. Caritea is now free and I liberated her. He bought some bottles of wines to celebrate and slept deeply that night.

On the second day morning, he opened his wardrobe, then looked around and found none of his things were taken away by her. She's too polite a girl. He smiled to himself, and went to wash up. Brushing his teeth dazzledly, he looked into the mirror. He looked like an old man of 60 years old. He suddenly noticed there was a long golden hair in his comb. Her hair was always black in his imagination. He cried like a baby, and swallowed plenty of toothpaste foam.

Pigmalion turned to the goddess of love for the second time. This time he wish Caritea would fall into stature again. He is not a selfless person and he will never be. If Caritea loves him, even if she has no other choice, what harm could it do him? But fire of Aphrodite didn't dance for him anymore. Whatever, he thought, I shall go home and make more sexy statures without souls. And next time, he won't brought any one of them into life.

the end

That evening they dined at a little ru

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silverseedthings · 4 years

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Jin Ling is a little younger Fix-It AU

Alright, so I had a silly thought:

I’ve read a lot of fic where Jin Guangyao didn’t love Qin Su but wanted the political connections of marrying her (plus the appearence of respectability inherent in being a married man) and he seduced her in order to force her family’s hand since they wouldn’t let them marry.

So far, this makes sense. Jin Guangyao is an experienced manipulator, he has charm, he has dimples, he’s a war hero. A sheltered girl like Qin Su would probably be easy prey for him. Equally logically, Qin Su’s mother would be Extremely Against this marriage. But she’s not going to admit to having been raped when she has the handy excuse of “But he’s the son of a whore!”

Now, what if Qin Su’s maids heard about what their mistress and her suitor were planning? The scandal! The juicy gossip! The extremely hefty tips they could receive in Jinlintai for that piece of intelligence on one of Carp Tower’s most disliked inhabitants!

Qin Su and Jin Guangyao quietly cease their association. But the Jin Sect is really gross and sexist even beyond the standards of the really gross and sexist cultivation world. Who’s going to get the worst of the backlash? Qin Su.

And Jin Zixuan notices. Madam Jin makes SURE he notices, anyway, with how she rants about shamelessness and dishonorability, even if in her case it’s mostly so she can say that she didn’t expect any better from JGY.

Now, Jin Zixuan had been quietly hopeful that he could get some action before the wedding, but he has just gotten a brutal reminder of how insidious Carp Tower gossip is, and he’s humiliated Jiang Yanli enough for a lifetime. He would never even look at her nonconsensually -he’s not his father- but he rather thinks Jiang Cheng would still take him aside for a quiet conversation with Zidian if there was a blowup of this magnitude (probably worse considering their station) with his sister. So he keeps it in his pants.

(Do I know if the timeline works for this? No. Do I care? Also no)

Now, fast forward most of a year past the wedding. The situation is thus:

Wei Wuxian is quietly farming in the Burial Mounds. Nobody has heard of the Yiling Patriarch in months beyond vague rumour-mongering.

Jiang Yanli is only just starting to show a baby bump. No official announcements have been made.

Jiang Cheng absolutely refuses to commit to an attack on the remaining Wens. Without Jiang support for the Jin’s proposal, Lan Xichen feels comfortable mantaining neutrality. Nie Mingjue hates Wens and demonic cultivation, but he has his priorities mostly straight. He won’t launch an offensive unprovoked, and is considering retracting his support of the siege plans out of spite since he Really Fucking Hates both Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao.

Jin Guangshan’s patience is wearing thin.

Now, Jin Guangyao knows very well he’s disposable. It’s why he wanted to marry Qin Su in the first place: a bastard son can be quietly (or loudly, depending on what is most convenient) expelled from the Sect once he’s no longer useful. If he was married to a lady from a prominent family that could be taken as an insult to his in-laws. But that plan backfired.

The social capital from his heroic deeds in the war is drying up. The scandal has left him in an even more precarious position, and to the public it looks like not even his sworn brothers are supporting him.

(It legitimately cracks me up that the outside perspective is that Lan Xichen is quietly disapproving of his actions while Nie Mingjue still gives him the benefit of the doubt, based on who’s standing with his clan on the Yiling Patriarch issue)

His assets are: one (1) easily-manipulated, bitter and petty minor sect leader with a disturbing obsession with Lan Wangji and one (1) out of his myriad of siblings (sworn, recognized, unrecognized or otherwise) that still likes and trusts him.

He goes to talk to Lan Xichen.

Here’s when what I like to call “The Tea of Misunderstandings” happens.

JGY, with earnest eyes and a pitiful expression: “Er-ge, I really don’t know what to do about the issue of the Yiling Patriarch. My father is convinced he’s an evil man that is amassing an army, but I haven’t seen you agree with him. Do you think his opinion is unfounded? Do you know anyone who could give an accurate account of his character? Please advise”

LXC, who always errs on the side of thinking the best of everyone’s intentions: “Well, I never had many interactions with Young Master Wei. I really couldn’t say for sure what he’s thinking, even if his chosen cultivation method is deeply troubling. If you want to hear what someone that has fought with him in the past has to say, perhaps you could ask Wangji?”

JGY, internally: “Perfect. Everyone knows Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian can’t stand one another. Er-ge won’t want to risk a large battle unless he’s attacked when his sect suffered so much so recently, but it will be easy to get him onboard once I give him a good excuse”

LXC, internally: “It’s so nice of A-Yao to be worried about doing the right thing, even if it might not align with his sect leader’s opinion. So inspiring! I hope Young Master Wei really is the man Wangji thinks he is, and that Wangji can convince A-Yao to speak to Sect Leader Jin on his behalf. We might be able to solve this situation without bloodshed.”

Remember, at this point in time Lan Wangji is still an Extremely Repressed Gay, and he and Wei Wuxian have had many very public disagreements. You can forgive JGY for not realizing that everybody knows they hate each other in much the same way everybody knows the Yiling Patriarch is amassing a terrifying Wen army.

You may blame Lan Xichen for his word choice when he meant “Someone who fought beside Wei Wuxian in the Sunshot Campaign and other occasions”. Poor jiggy interpreted “Someone who fought AGAINST Wei Wuxian”.

Convincing Su She to curse Lan Wangji is easy. Convincing him that the Yiling Patriarch: 1) Will be pleased about this and welcome him with open arms; 2) Can and will get rid of the curse backlash; 3) Will be easy to fool into revealing his plans so Su She can access glory and reknown in the same way JGY did is easier.

Jin Guangyao is prepared for every outcome:

If WWX kills Su She on the spot (which seems unlikely), Lan Wangji will still have suffered a direct attack “from the Yiling Patriarch” and Lan Xichen will feel compelled to support Jin Guangshan’s agenda. The Jiang will have no choice but to bow to the other three sects’ will and join. The death of a minor sect leader will get the minor sects foaming at the mouth to mount his head on a pike. Win.

If WWX lets his grudge cloud his judgement and actually welcomes Su She into the Burial Mounds (possible), the movilization to eradicate him and his camp will be even faster. Win.

If WWX tries to get Su She to pass him information and push his own agenda on the cultivation world (most probable, since he’s in desperate need of both information and people speaking for him, even if they come with the ticking time-bomb of a curse), Su She will just report on his forces and condemn him for “forcing him” to curse LWJ, as planned. Win.

Even in the unlikely event that WWX actually can (and the even unlikelier scenario that he does) get rid of the curse mark, JGY can blame Su She for everything and present himself as the one who uncovered their sinister plots so as to not share the glory. Win.

....Or so he’d thought. WWX trussing up Su She like a turkey and presenting them both at the gates of Cloud Recesses in a very public show of concern for LWJ was not something he’d thought he’d need a contingency for.

When LWJ turns out to believe everything WWX tells him even after Su She shockingly doesn’t sell JGY out and they team up to uncover the mystery, jiggy is ready to just throw up his hands in disbelief. That’s just unfair.

(WWX would probably have killed Su She on the spot, because he Cannot Even at the idea of LWJ being the slightest at risk, but Wen Ning was the one who found him and got the spiel about joining them and having cursed LWJ as a mark of his sincerity. It didn’t particularly endear him to Wen Ning either, but WN is smart enough to realize that a moron incompetent enough to get lost on the way to the Burial Mounds, in such a way that they had to split up to find him after he tripped the wards because apparentely?? he can’t feel the strongest fucking focus of resentful energy EVER?? is probably not smart enough to figure out a way to curse Hanguang Jun. Much less through the GusuLan sect’s barriers. So WWX and LWJ investigate to find out who’s the mastermind)

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dayseternal-blog · 4 years

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Summary: Naruto and Hinata join the Twelve Guardian Ninja of the Land of Fire’s Daimyo. (But not really.) Their mission is to smoke out the rat among them who’s selling political secrets to insurgents, while making sure the other Guardians don’t figure them out.

Neither can tell when their acting became so convincing.

A fake relationship canon-divergent AU. Rated E for eventual shameless smut.

Written for NH2020 March - Bodyguard Theme

Read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Kiss Him Again

They left for Kumogakure ten days in advance for the joint Chunin Exams.

Ten days of constant vigilance, watching for bandits or other criminals intent on attacking the daimyo’s entourage.

Once they all entered the foggy village high among the mountaintops, they could relax a little.

The Raikage has his shinobi posted in high-traffic areas, at the fanciest hotels where the daimyo are staying, and surrounding the meeting halls.

But for Naruto and Hinata, they both know they can’t let their guards down now.

Visitors from many different nations crowd the streets. Opportunities for a possible traitor to sneak away are high now that they are taking on 2-person shifts throughout their stay in Kumo.

At the top of their suspect list: Taiyou, a genjutsu-user who came from the same poverty-stricken village as one of the caught informants. Lightning-style user Tacchi, who never told anyone that his younger sister was currently a missing person. And Ryuu, an earth and water-style user who apparently caught the informants first.

They also chose Eizan, though his story held true. His parents were killed in the Third Shinobi War. He was then adopted outside of Konoha by old farmers, who have already passed. Naruto and Hinata discussed that Eizan, the unofficial leader among the Guardians, would be good at keeping the group together, making it more obvious if someone wants to do something else.

Naruto knows he’ll need to sleep with one eye open in case someone tries to leave in the middle of the night.

Except he finds himself knocking on the door of Hinata’s room, his own belongings in hand, trying to ignore the flip-flopping in his gut.

“Oh, Naruto, you’re not gonna keep your stuff with Hinata-chan?" "You guys got in a fight or something?”

...He had to awkwardly blame it on habit, grin really widely, and scooch himself out of the room.

This isn’t weird at all, he assures himself. He’s slept beside Hinata on missions before. With her teammates. Outside. Many times.

She answers the door. “Naruto-kun?”

“Uh, I kinda need to stay with you.”

She blinks once, realization hurtling into her. “O-oh, yes, come in.”

He enters her room silently and puts his stuff down.

They both stand there, eyes darting to the only bed in the room.

He panics for only half a second. He has the overnight shift, so he won’t be here anyway. “We can take turns?” he wonders aloud. “So while I’m on duty, you can sleep on the bed if you want.”

She nods a little too hard. “And while I’m on duty, you can sleep on the bed.”

They’re nodding to each other, glad that they easily came to a solution.

She inwardly takes a deep breath, trying to stay as calm as possible, trying to get some sense of how she normally is. “Naruto-kun, please go ahead and use the shower,” she invites.

He glances at the bathroom, where the light is already on. She was in the middle of getting ready before he interrupted her. “No, no, I’ll go after.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, knowing it’s customary for the men to go first.

“Yeah, I’m fine for now.”

She decides not to push it. “Thank you,” she says, probably a little bit too quietly. She grabs her whole bag and retreats to the bathroom as quickly as she can.

She stares at herself in the mirror. For some reason, she didn’t foresee any of this happening. But she needs to act like it’s not a problem. Otherwise, Naruto will feel like he’s troubling her when he’s not. She needs to act as unbothered as possible.

She can do this.

She can act as she normally does.

So she makes sure to wash up as best she can, without going too fast or too slow. Too fast, and he’ll think he’s bothering her. Too slow, and he’ll wonder what’s taking so long.

She just has to act normal.

She quickly moisturizes, dresses, spreads a towel over her shoulders, and grabs the hairdryer to finish outside. “Naruto-kun?” she calls, opening the bathroom door. “I’m sorry to make you wait.”

“Oh, no.” He looks up at her from his seated position where he was tracking the movements of the other Guardians.

He tries to keep himself from staring.

He’s known for a long time now that Hinata turns pink easily due to her fair complexion, but he still wasn’t prepared for how shiny and rosy she would look. He stands to gather his things, averting his eyes, feeling like he saw something he’s not supposed to know. “I was just watching the others. It seems like they’re all just relaxing like us. I don’t think we have to worry about anything right now since we all just got here.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll go in now, then?”

“Mhm. I’m done.”

“Thanks.”

He steps in to the bathroom, taking notice of Hinata’s used towelette, a small tub of cream, and the hotel’s soaps. He idly remembers that she gave him some stuff like that at his own Chunin Exams.

Hinata’s been a good friend to him for a long time. Really since the Chunin Exams, she’s been a good friend. Maybe that’s why he chose 8 years? Maybe his subconscious just summed up the important years of their friendship.

He washes up, glad to be finally free of the grime of travel, thankful that he wasn’t on the first shift to watch the daimyo.

When he leaves the bathroom, patting off the humidity with a towel, the room’s noisy.

And her long hair is billowing out behind her.

A tool that he recognizes must be a hairdryer is in her right hand. Her other hand glides through her dark strands like they’re nothing more than water.

He puts his old clothes away, watching mesmerized.

Hinata realizes he’s staring. She shuts the machine off. “I’m sorry, it’s really loud.”

“Uh, no.” He notices that the top of her head is dry but the ends aren't. “It’s not bothering me at all!”

“Oh, then, I only have a little more to do. I’ll be done soon,” she says apologetically.

“Take your time!” he assures. “Really!”

“Okay, thank you, it won’t take long.” She turns back around, clicking the hairdryer on.

He guesses she must do this every time after she takes a bath. He’s never used a hairdryer in his life, never seen anyone use one for that matter.

But it’s something that she does. For her long hair.

...It seems unnecessary. Plain air can do the same thing.

But...it’s apparently something she likes to do.

Maybe all girls do it to be pretty like this.

He gets the feeling again that he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to know, but Hinata doesn’t really seem bothered by his presence.

She glances over at him and sees that he’s sitting on the bed now, still watching her. Not knowing what to think, nerves starting to rise, she decides to stop and let the air do the rest. “I checked the other room just a moment ago. Taiyou-san and Eizan-san are still there.”

He completely forgot about that for a second. Good thing Hinata’s a reliable mission partner. “Thanks. I think when we all go out to get dinner, that’s when we’ll have to be more observant.”

She nods. Their mission is only just getting started.

They head out with Taiyou and Eizan to a nearby bar. It’s not the kind of environment Hinata is used to at all, since she’s still underage in the Land of Fire.

But here in the Land of Lightning, she isn’t.

“Hinata-chan, you’re 19 right?” Eizan calls, sliding the drink menu across the table to her. “How about ordering a drink since you can.”

“Umm…” She will still have to be alert for tonight. “Maybe not this time. This is a work trip after all.”

“You Konoha shinobi are so uptight,” Taiyou observes aloud, looking at both her and Naruto, who hasn’t touched the drink menu either.

“Yeah,” Eizan agrees. “You guys don’t know since it’s your first work trip, but these are the most lax jobs for us. We just have to be on our game during the transitions and traveling. Especially in a village like Kumogakure, the shinobi here are good. They’re tough. We don’t have to worry.”

Taiyou nods in agreement. “Kumo is one of our favorites to travel to these days, even though in the past they did all kinds of shady things against Konoha.”

“Ahh, ah, that was you, wasn’t it!!” Eizan says, eyes wide in realization, staring at Hinata.

She doesn’t give any reaction because it wasn’t a question.

Naruto looks between them, not knowing what Eizan's accusing her of.

Eizan looks at Naruto, pointing a finger at him. “And...your mom, the previous jinchuuriki, got almost kidnapped, too.”

Naruto’s mind races to catch up. “I knew that my mom….” He looks back at Hinata, trying to connect the threads. “You got kidnapped?”

“I was really young,” she offers in affirmation. It’s an event she’d rather not talk about. Or, more like, she just can’t talk about it.

“You didn’t know?” Taiyou asks him.

And he’s speechless. No, he didn’t know.

“I-it’s okay, Naruto-kun, I don’t really like to talk about it. It happened a long time ago.”

Taiyou and Eizan look down at the food menus.

“Eight years together.” And he didn’t know until now? Hell, even if they weren’t in a relationship (which they aren’t), but even so, just as friends, why didn’t he know?

He considers her as one of his most important friends. She knows so much about his past...and he can’t say the same for her… He looks at Hinata, trying to form appropriate words, trying to push past his clamoring feelings of inadequacy.

“Excuse me, waiter!” Eizan calls loudly. His voice dominates the table as he orders drinks and food for everyone. “The drinks are on me,” he assures with a wink. “The two of you have some talking to do later on, and maybe some alcohol can loosen you guys up!”

Hinata and Naruto are pulled back to the present. To their secret mission. But their senpai in the group just bought drinks for them, and social code obligates them to at least humor him a little.

“Don’t worry about the guard duties for now,” Taiyou says.

Naruto looks at Hinata.

“I think I’ll be fine with just a little,” she murmurs to him.

“Relax! Enjoy this trip!” Eizan says meaningfully. “And with the international peace, the chances of something happening to our daimyo is very low. Both of you are always so uptight. It’s okay to prioritize your relationship once in a while.”

Naruto’s never been described as “uptight” in his life. Now, Taiyou and Eizan both described him that way. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He guesses he hasn’t been as silly as he usually is, being on an undercover mission and, most of all, being that his partner is Hinata, he just needs to be better than he usually acts... He ducks down to Hinata, whispering, “Yeah, it’s okay. I’m on duty later tonight, so you don’t have to worry…” and you can sleep if you need to. He can just keep watch over the other Guardians at the same time. He hopes his thoughts somehow translated to her.

She nods, giving him a little smile as thanks. She turns back. “Thank you, Eizan-san. We’ll talk about it later.”

He grins at them. “Just trying to help. You two make a cute couple.”

She ducks her face, hiding her silly blush. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down, telling herself that this is all for the mission.

She peeks up at Naruto, who’s shyly watching her.

Meeting her eyes, he grins despite the pinching in his gut. “We work well together. Yeah, Hinata?”

She nods, caught up in his gentle warmth, wondering if he’s ever thought of them as being anything more than friends. Even if he hasn’t, she hopes that when she finally confesses, he’ll consider her seriously. Until that day, she’ll enjoy the effortless trust between them. She thinks, she hopes, that even if he rejects her, they won’t lose the friendship they have.

Eizan has the next shift with him, but Naruto notes that both Taiyou and Eizan aren’t exactly holding back. Getting drunk doesn’t rule them out from being traitors, but it does tell him they aren’t going to be able to act especially sneaky for the next couple of hours.

He keeps an eye on Hinata, too, who despite how careful she’s been in her own consumption, her usually fair cheeks have ruddied and a permanent little smile is stuck on her face. She’s still quiet compared to anyone else, but if anything, she seems more cheerful. And the other change is...she’s been looking up at him a lot.

So he’s compelled to look back down at her each time, to meet her happy gaze with a bemused one of his own, left wondering what she’s thinking about, or if she’s thinking about anything at all. He can feel the alcohol, too, fizzing under his skin, thumping in his chest, but concern for the mission and a rising sense of responsibility for her keep him somewhat tethered. “You okay?” he murmurs.

“Mhm.” She looks into his eyes, marveling at seeing her own reflection there.

“She’s feeling it!” observes Taiyou with a laugh. “Is this your first time drinking, Hinata-chan?”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “I’ve had sake on special occasions before with my family, but not out like this.”

“Ahh,” Eizan voices, looking thoughtful. “Today’s a special occasion, too, then! First time drinking legally!”

“Mhm,” Hinata agrees easily.

“It’s good that you’re a smiler,” Taiyou laughs. “I have a friend back home, whenever she drinks, she starts crying. We try not to let her drink at all.”

“That’s like our friend!” Naruto adds. “Except whenever he drinks, even just the tiniest sip, he picks a fight with anyone. What’s worse is he’s literally impossible to beat. You can’t let him get anywhere near alcohol, otherwise he’ll bust the whole place down, no joke.”

She knows Rock Lee is infamous for his drunk behavior, but what she will always think about first is his constant encouragement to anyone, including even Neji when he was at his most unfriendly. She’s thankful Neji had a teammate like Lee. “Well, when he’s sober, he’s the best kind of guy you could ever meet.”

For a split-second, he thinks to agree, but, “Wait, I’m not the best guy you’ve ever met?”

Eizan and Taiyou burst out in raucous laughter.

His stupidly thoughtless question rings in his ears. He wants so badly to take it back when he sees Hinata turn to him, her eyes as wide as pearlescent saucers, her mouth fallen open.

“Oh Naruto-kun, you are!” she assures, emotion welling up in panic.

“Uh, no, I know I’m not-”

“No! You are the best guy I’ve ever met! Really!” she presses, trying to get him to meet her gaze.

“I really didn’t mean it-”

“Naruto-kun,” she begs in a whisper. She can’t fathom how she could let him doubt himself for even a moment. Her hand rises on its own volition, cupping his cheek, trying to encourage him to face her.

But he feels sickeningly embarrassed. His eyes meet hers for a beat only to dart away. “H-hinata,” he stutters. “It’s okay, I was just kidding-”

“He’s so hurt!” Taiyou howls in laughter.

“Better kiss him to make him feel better!!” Eizan teases, hand slapping his own face in his mirth.

Naruto looks mortified with himself, an uncertain expression she’s never seen on him before.

Doesn’t he know how special he is to her, far, far beyond anyone else?... She realizes, in horror, that he really doesn’t. And she can’t think of any solution that would better convey her sincerity. She grips his arm, pulling herself up slightly, tilting his head toward her, the burn over his birthmarks meeting her lips.

She closes her eyes, letting herself linger.

Naruto feels like all the air got sucked out of the room. Pure shock has him turning his face, only to see her shift down, only to feel her soft lips again, lightly caress, then gently press right above his jawline, warm and so close to the corner of his mouth.

She settles back, trying to gauge whether it worked or not.

He stares at her, at her lips that were just on him, lungs suddenly malfunctioning in uneven, struggling breaths.

She thinks it’s good that at least now he’s looking at her.

She blinks once.

Twice.

I just kissed him. On his face I just kissed him on his cheek, on his cheek twice on his face-

I kissed him.

Realization has her speechless; she stares back at him with an increasingly gaping expression. She opens her mouth to apologize when Taiyou’s and Eizan’s cheers about how cute they are barge into her panicked mind, and she realizes like another clap of thunder over the rapidly brewing storm in her soul that she can’t apologize with them watching, she has to somehow act like she meant it all to happen because as his “girlfriend,” she was initially just trying to-

“N-naruto...kun?” she tests in a whisper, unsure of what worse could possibly happen to her now. “Y-you’re the...best guy-” Her voice is so small she can barely tell the difference between her words and her breath, and she doesn’t think she can possibly go on…

But his piercingly blue eyes are fixed on her like he’s not registering anything else in the bar.

And her heart stutters harder than her childhood speech disorder, yet she manages, “-I’ve ever met…” She wants to curl up into herself and die.

“DAMN IT!” Taiyou pounds the table, making both of them jump out of their skins. He stands and points at them. “You fucking cute couple! I’m going to get laid.” He hurriedly throws money down on the table as Eizan bemoans the fact that he has to work tonight, and starts to head out of the restaurant.

“Yeah,” Eizan drawls. “We better get going.” He starts taking out his money as he calls for the waiter.

Hinata watches Taiyou disappear from sight, and anxiety grips her.

She looks to Naruto, the alarm in her expression hopefully enough to pull him out of his shock, though she really can’t blame how out-of-sorts he is after what she just did.

When he doesn’t seem to register the current circumstances, her mind races for any excuse that would let her follow the Guardian who escaped their sight. “...Eizan-san, please go ahead. I think we’re not ready to leave.”

“Hm? Oh, right, right, you guys need to talk about stuff.” He drops some money on the table. “Oi, Naruto-”

He manages to turn his attention to Eizan.

“Don’t be late, got it?”

Naruto nods out of habit.

Eizan starts heading out of the restaurant.

Byakugan. She activates her kekkei genkai, frantically sorting through the crowds, finally zeroing in on Taiyou meandering down the street.

Naruto blinks himself into awareness, realizing that they have no idea where the suspects of their mission went. “Hinata,” he calls, half of him seriously worried about the situation, the other half tipping back toward delirium.

“I have a lock on Taiyou-san,” she starts. “I’ll follow him. Naruto-kun, please follow Eizan-san.”

“Yeah,” he responds, unable to control how stupidly breathless he sounds.

She knows he’s probably waiting for some kind of apology or explanation, but the longer they linger in the bar, the farther the others get. And, honestly, she knows that she can’t possibly handle a rejection from him right now.

Her heart’s not prepared at all.

She fumbles out enough money for their share of food, and they scooch out of the booth.

They part ways at the door, tracking their targets in opposite directions.

He follows Eizan back to the hotel, where he heads straight to his room.

So Naruto heads back to his own room, settling on watching Eizan, Taiyou, and Hinata from afar, trying to calm an adrenaline rush unlike anything he’s ever had before.

Like he’s constantly trying to breathe around the sweetest words he’s ever heard.

Like he’s repeatedly swallowing down a swollen pressure gripping his heart.

His body yearns for a gentle weight against him.

His cheek tickles with an otherworldly touch, one that’s soft, hot, intended for him.

He keeps falling out of Sage Mode, again and again.

It’s only when he realizes Taiyou is in close proximity to someone with a very weak chakra signature does he really try to force himself to pay attention.

Hinata is unmoving in his mind’s eye. She’s obviously observing the two.

Imagining her breaks up his concentration.

He can’t be like this.

He can’t work like this.

And he needs to get to his shift.

He pushes himself into motion, trying to focus just on Taiyou. This could be an exchange of information for all that he knows, and he needs to be ready to help at any moment should Hinata need him.

While he’s on his shift, standing guard near the daimyo’s room with Eizan, he notices Taiyou’s chakra fluctuating a bit, like a streetlight about to go out.

Hinata remains in her same spot as before. She hasn’t moved at all.

Taiyou’s chakra suddenly surges wildly like a detonated flash bomb, then just as suddenly, quiets down to normal.

Hinata remains completely still, but she's fine.

His brows furrow, trying to make sense of it.

“What’s up,” Eizan asks, his guard raised.

He doesn’t know if he should tell him. “Nothing, there’s no threat.”

Eizan lowers his guard. “You look like you sensed something.”

He’ll just fudge the truth a little. “Taiyou’s not in your guys’ room.”

“Yeah. He said he was gonna go get laid.”

He frowns, realizing exactly what he was just focusing on.

Meaning Hinata was, too. Watching. With her Byakugan. That whole time.

Heat rises to his face, and he hopes that Eizan can’t tell.

“What, you noticed him fucking?” Eizan asks, voice quiet but full of amusement.

“I didn’t mean to!” Naruto defends awkwardly. “I just didn’t know where he went at this time of night.” And accidentally peeping on Taiyou is honestly not what has him hot under the collar.

Eizan silently laughs. “Damn Naruto, you sure act innocent sometimes.”

Naruto shakes his head, opting to answer with silence because Eizan is far from the truth.

The truth being that he's always been just another guy who laughs at lewd humor, who enjoys looking at a curvy body, and has imagined doing more despite having so little experience.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to look at Hinata during the shift change. He doesn’t think he’ll even be able to handle being next to her during their joint off-shift, he doesn’t know what he’ll say, how he’ll act.

If he’ll even be able to get intelligible words out!

If he’ll even be able to look at anything but her lips!...

He can't even think about her, really, because he keeps thinking about...

There’s no way he can do this mission without acting like a fool.

But he has to.

He has to act like he has himself together.

He has to be reliable and confident.

He has to…

He has to get her to kiss him again.

She can’t sleep.

Even though the other Guardians are dead-asleep, their pulses and energy too even to possibly be faked, she can’t relax.

If she had to rank nights according to terrible-ness, this one is up there in the top.

Practically confessing her feelings about Naruto in front of Eizan and Taiyou in a bar.

Kissing Naruto in public for her first time. She can’t live with herself.

And then to top it all off, she wants to claw her eyes out for seeing too much information about Taiyou.

She didn’t even watch the entire time, but she had to check for Are they done, yet? Oh, no.

Minutes later, check again. Are they done now? No??

She thought drunk hook-ups were supposed to be quick, messy affairs, but she ended up sitting outside on a distant enough rooftop for nearly an hour with just her self-loathing to pass the time.

And here she is in bed, awake, as if she didn’t already scold herself enough.

She doesn’t know how she can face Naruto in the morning, what she’ll tell him, how they’ll continue working together from here on out.

What if he starts acting distant toward her?

What if he’s creeped out by her?

She wants to take it all back.

Take it all back…

She can remember his skin on her lips. His golden tan, warm and giving.

His handsome face and solid arm in her hands.

His scent, not so much a smell, but a calming aura that filled her senses.

It’s what she always dreamed of.

It was everything, he was everything, better than she ever imagined.

But.

Not anything close to in the way she wanted.

And now she wishes that none of it happened.

She shoves tight fists against her face, frustration and regret creating an unbearable turmoil that makes her grit her teeth, her skin burn up with shame.

She wants to scream!

Yet she keeps it bottled up inside, the pressure making her rattle until she lets it all out in one horrid breath, her fists pounding into the bed with an audible thump.

Unshed tears bead hot around her eyes even though she knows she doesn’t deserve to feel sorry for herself.

What has she done? Why did she do that?

What could Naruto possibly be thinking?

...It’s not fair at all.

Not fair at all.

#naruhina fanfic #canon divergence au #no the last #fake/pretend relationship #bodyguard #undercover missions #romance #eventual smut #minor original characters #naruhina 2020 #nh2020 #thank you for reading!

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Shameless Season 11 Episode 7 Review: Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake

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This Shameless review contains spoilers.

Shameless Season 11 Episode 7

“Why do you still all live together? You obviously hate each other.”

A tenet of Shameless that’s defined the series even more than its Chicago setting or lower class social strata is that the dysfunctional Gallagher family all live together in one crowded house. There are nearly ten people living in the Gallagher household at any given time and these close quarters are metonymic of the love-hate relationship between the Gallaghers that’s at the core of the series.

This cramped lifestyle is uncomfortable and limiting in many ways, but it’s allowed them to become stronger and closer in the process. Shameless has previously handled this living situation as an enduring badge of honor for the Gallaghers, but “Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake” is the first episode that wonders if it’s actually codependent behavior and questions if the Gallaghers should still be living together after these eleven seasons. This important question causes different reactions in the entire family, which results in one of Shameless’ strongest episodes of its final season.

The biggest conflict that drives nearly all of the activity in “Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake” is Lip’s selfish proposal to sell the Gallagher home and the resistance that he faces from everyone else. It makes sense that this idea would have extremely limited appeal to anyone, so it’s reassuring to see the various Gallaghers come back at Lip with unenthusiastic responses, because why wouldn’t they!

It’s actually kind of sickening to see Lip try to buy out his family’s votes with meager favors like preparing their favorite food. This is a major decision that’s going to change the rest of their lives, not a vote over what’s being watched for movie night. Digestible favors aren’t the solution here and Lip should really just listen to his family instead of focusing on the right way to flip them.

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Lip’s unscrupulous tactics become cruelly manipulative when he tries to sway the younger members of the family, like Carl, with the potential in their $20,000 buyout. That’s hardly enough for Carl to upgrade from the life that he currently has, especially after he just decked out the basement and made his living quarters more comfortable than they’ve ever been. It’s rough to watch Lip aggressively bully his family into immediately voting on the matter and then being resentful when the consensus doesn’t side in his favor. The fact that nobody else votes to sell the house should give Lip enough of an indication that this is something that his family isn’t interested in and that he should find another way to solve his housing and financial problem.

I was concerned over Liam’s future if the Gallagher house disappears and so it’s satisfying to see this episode explore Liam’s fear over this exact situation. Surely some family member would step up and allow him to live with them, but the fact that he doesn’t consider that and thinks that he’s on his own speaks volumes for how he currently views his family. He’s more comfortable with Kevin and Vee than any Gallagher. Honestly, Lip should volunteer to house Liam until he finds something else, considering that this is all his fault, but Liam could do better than them at this point.

No Gallagher is more opposed to Lip’s suggestion to sell the house than Frank. He sequesters himself and grapples with the possibility of losing this symbol that’s been with the Gallaghers for generations in a much more philosophical manner than everyone else. Frank has been possessive over his territory and this very home in the past, but it’s always been for selfish reasons whereas his motivation here is surprisingly tender and poetic. Now, that’s not necessarily the reason to keep a house, but it’s a much purer motivation than Lip’s reasons for wanting to sell it.

Frank’s continued to watch his family grow up and move beyond him and this house is the one constant that’s been present in the majority of his life. This means even more to Frank now after his dementia diagnosis and he finds more of his world slipping away from him. In many ways, Frank needs to keep this house and this episode highlights that in a manner that’s graceful and natural.

The rest of Frank’s material in this episode is quite haunting even if he does playfully manipulate others with his fresh diagnosis as a new tool in his arsenal of cons. “Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake” finds another clever way to juxtapose Shameless’ final season with some of its earliest exploits. There are several installments where Frank has gone on a massive bender and spends the episode in a stupor as he attempts to find his way back home.

There’s never been an element of fear in those past excursions, but it’s now genuinely frightening to see Frank out of his element in some foreign place as he struggles to remain composure and figure out where he belongs. Shameless is already getting a lot of mileage out of this and it’s making its limited time with Frank’s diagnosis work as opposed to a whole season where he’s lost and mentally in bad shape.

Frank barely manages to get home in one piece due to his failing memory, but new drama with Sandy makes Debbie learn something that she wishes that she could forget. More of Sandy’s guarded past comes home to roost and now there’s a child that’s also in the equation. Debbie actually manages to create a modicum of empathy for her character as she emphasizes the importance of not shirking the responsibility of parenthood.

It’s helpful for Debbie to display some humanizing qualities in an episode where the rest of the Gallaghers explicitly shout, “We just hate Debbie,” but she quickly turns the situation around on herself by how she handles her feelings. It’s incredibly inappropriate for Debbie to get involved in Sandy’s custody battle and consciously ignore what both parents and the child are requesting in this situation. Debbie’s erratic behavior is all the response of her intense abandonment issues from Monica and even Fiona, to some extent. Debbie seems resistant in the area even if it’s something that the audience has been aware of for some time.

The other major relationship that this episode deconstructs is the recent encounter between Carl and Tish, which begins as DOA on account of the sexual assault component of it all, but takes a surprising turn by the end of everything. Carl lets Tish down in a gentle and caring manner that’s actually mature and seems like it will be premature, albeit responsible, conclusion to their time together. This is Shameless, so “mature” is a word that’s typically out of the show’s vocabulary. Initially, Carl’s stress over this scenario explodes in a humorous and inappropriate display at work, but then matters take a more realistic approach to this relationship.

There’s a very sitcom-like aesthetic to a lot of “Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake’s” storylines and like in most sitcoms, Carl and Tish’s problem is a case where clear communication would have solved everything. I actually love how this plot plays out where Tish is a decent, accomplished person who has valid excuses for all of her behavior. Similarly, Carl never initially accuses her of rape because he’s equally trying to act like a gentleman and minimize any unnecessary conflict in their goodbye. It’s a simple, yet surprising, resolution where Carl is actually the wild one and Tish is completely normal. It’s a welcome change of pace and it provides a nice taste of Carl’s awkward transition into adult relationships now that he’s growing up and entered this seemingly more responsible stage of his life.

Ironically, consistency has been good for Carl, but it’s something that’s been sporadic in this season of Shameless. The group dynamic in episodes has occasionally been unbalanced or felt unnatural, but there’s a very comfortable energy around the Gallaghers in this episode. Characters like Lip and Debbie become antagonistic and cause ripples throughout the rest of the family, but these moments of tension are explored in larger group scenes that benefit from the complete family’s dynamic. Mickey not even say something in a scene, but the fact that he’s there and offers an exasperated eye roll to Ian or Carl accomplishes so much. The beginning of this season struggled in this area, but it’s been a triumph across the past few installments and will hopefully continue until the season’s end.

This is a natural and effortless Shameless episode not just in terms of its character dynamics, but also its sense of humor. This installment is easily one of the funnier entries of the season and lands some legitimately hilarious gags. It’s always appreciated when Shameless can accentuate its strong comedic skills, especially since lately it’s embraced melodrama and quirky scenarios over direct jokes.

“Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake” is an effective reminder that this show can still be quite humorous and the moment where Frank is a bar that’s not the Alibi and gets tripped up over a Vee doppelganger made me laugh out loud. It also might be the last joke that’s made which stems from Frank’s dementia if the subject matter grows more intense on that front.

Shameless embraces this lighter comedic energy the most with Ian and Mickey’s storyline, where they try to acquire some gay friends for themselves. This is fantastic right from the jump and it’s such a pleasant and affable storyline that it almost feels out of place in Shameless, especially eleven seasons in. Mickey struggles to make something as simple as a smile seem natural and it only gets more ridiculous as these two put themselves out there.

Mickey and Ian both generate an awkward energy and it’s a major wakeup call to just how atypical the Gallaghers and Milkoviches are in contrast to the rest of Chicago. The craziest detail here is that Mickey becomes the more popular of the duo in the end and it’s a highlight to see him trading barbs and doing pile-ons as Ian tries to collect himself. Ian and Mickey’s behavior in their post-married life has been a bright spot in this season and this is the easily most enjoyable of their storylines so far. The two have been in such heightened scenarios that there’s a real charm to them doing something this normal and mundane.

Once everything comes to a head in “Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake,” Lip reaches a very dangerous place and he practically has a mental breakdown over the avalanche of selfish and misguided decisions that he’s made this season. Lip has been responsible for some seriously awful things, but “Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake” concludes with behavior that is so out of line and on par with any of Fiona and Frank’s worst behavior. A reckoning is coming and it might be too late for Lip to get a happy ending by the time that all of this is over.

All of Lip’s foolishness crashes together in such a disastrous manner that you practically expect the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme to kick in. The most important thing that Lip needs to do is just face reality and know when to tap out rather than continue to dig himself deeper. This behavior was problematic when Lip was a single self-destructive alcoholic, but now he has a child and life partner and it’s not tenable any longer. Just live with her family, dude!

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“Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake” is a satisfying episode that greatly benefits from a smart script that’s heavy in humor. This season of Shameless has gotten a little away from itself, but this episode turns to more grounded scenarios that are rooted in the characters’ backstories. It’s exactly what the series needs right now and as Frank loses track of who he is in a mental capacity and Lip loses sight of himself based on how far he’s fallen, it’s reassuring that Shameless has found itself and remembers what makes it work as it heads into the Chicago sunset.

The post Shameless Season 11 Episode 7 Review: Two at a Biker Bar, One in the Lake appeared first on Den of Geek.

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt - Wen Ruohan insists that Jiang Yanli come to the Wen "lecture" as well...

ao3

Jiang Yanli tended to deal with stress in one of two ways: cooking and taking care of people. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the Wen indoctrination camp provided many opportunities for both, although not with the people she might have expected.

Wei Wuxian spent most of his days being valiant and light-hearted, trying to give them strength and courage, and Jiang Cheng followed his lead the way he always did, brave and serious and thoughtful and – well. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate both of them, because she did, but it was only that her own anxiety was more easily dealt with when she could distance herself from her current situation and focus entirely on someone else.

She might have tried to take care of Jin Zixuan, but the Jin sect disciples closed ranks around him, glaring at her as if she were the one who broke off their engagement. Either way, she won’t go where she’s not wanted, and so she backed off and went elsewhere to look for someone that needed her.

Luckily for her, Nie Huaisang was very loud and very vocal and very, very needy.

They made for a surprisingly great fit.

Jiang Yanli had perhaps been forced to step into a maternal role a bit too early – Jiang Cheng had always been a soft child, and their father’s dislike of him had hurt him deeply where it had always seemed somewhat unimportant to Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian was of course a big baby masquerading as a man. Her mother had always been disinterested in playing the mother, more fond of training and discipline, and so they’d turned to her when they were young, and still did today. Back at home, they would often descend to bickering and playing for her attention when she was around, knowing how much she liked it: Wei Wuxian demanding to be called A-Xian and fed spoonfuls like a toddler (albeit one capable of eating extremely spicy food), Jiang Cheng too proud to go that far but somehow managing to lose at least ten years of maturity, always looking at her hopefully to affirm that he did well and to sneak him treats behind everyone’s back.

That was the way she liked it, too. Possibly more than she really should, but it made her feel wanted and useful in a way that her weak cultivation never would.

Nie Huaisang, in contrast, had always been babied - by his father, by his over-protective older brother, by his long-suffering sect that nevertheless indulged him in everything. He’d suffered some things (his father’s death, first and foremost) when he was very young, and it sometimes seemed as he’d reacted to that by purposefully staying that age forever: useless and self-indulgent, spoiled and with a tendency to fuss, an unreasonable expectation that he could just turn his big eyes on anyone in his vicinity and they would immediately feel moved to cater to his every need.

Nie Huaisang, in other words, was just her type.

He was calling her ‘Jiang-jiejie’ within a shichen, putting his head on her shoulder a shichen after that, and kicking up such a dramatic fuss about everything that even Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng – who had come over with threats in their eyes about a strange man, even one of their friends, sticking himself so close to her – had ended up encouraging her to see what she could do to calm him down a little.

After they left, she looked down at his pathetic form and said, “You did that on purpose, you little brat.”

Nie Huaisang looked up at her with an impish grin that somehow still suited the tear stains on his face. “That’s true, but Jiang-jiejie won’t tell on me,” he said, as certain as any child. “Besides, this way we get to spend time together – and if we’re together, my guards will protect you as they do me, and your brothers won’t have to worry so much. Aren’t I smart?”

“Such a thoughtful child,” she praised, and he puffed himself up. “But you shouldn’t mislead your big brothers like that, you know. You could have just told them what you were thinking.”

“But where’d the fun in that be?” he said, and put his head on her shoulder again. “Jiang-jiejie will take care of me while I’m here.”

“Of course,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you if you’re naughty, either.”

She did, too. She made him food out of the terrible provisions they received, she brushed his hair and let him teach her how to do his braids, she tucked him in at night before heading back to her tent, and even sat with him and helped him with his memorization and his chores – and when it was called for, she smacked him lightly on the backs of his hands that he held out to her for the specific purpose, scolded him and made him apologize.

She didn’t have any time to spare to worry about the Wen sect.

It was great.

“Uh, shijie,” Wei Wuxian said after a while. “Are you sure you’re okay with Nie Huaisang? He’s really…sticky.”

“He’s adorable,” Jiang Yanli said.

“He’s taking advantage of you,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed how he gets to sit with you in the shade instead of working with us.”

“He sits in the shade because the Nie sect disciples do his share of the work,” Jiang Yanli pointed out. “Just as you do for me.”

“Yeah, but…”

“He’s harmless,” Jiang Yanli said, even though she suspected that if he were pushed to it Nie Huaisang could escalate from brat past menace into actual threat. Hopefully it would never come that. “And it’s good to have company.”

“What do you even talk about?” Jiang Cheng asked. His cheeks were oddly flushed red, and he was averting his eyes – even more oddly, so was Wei Wuxian, who she previously would have said was too shameless to be embarrassed by anything.

“Art, mostly,” she said, puzzled, and even more puzzled when they both flinched. “Recently we were discussing famous landscape artists from the southern part of Gusu.”

“Oh, landscapes,” Wei Wuxian said, exhaling in relief. “That’s all right then. Glad you’re having a good time, shijie.”

“Have fun,” Jiang Cheng agreed, bobbing his head up and down like a fishing bird.

Later, Jiang Yanli narrated the conversation to Nie Huaisang and gave him a stern look when he started giggling.

“Would you care to explain the joke to your Jiang-jiejie?” she asked, and he waved his hands for a moment of time to catch his breath before explaining to her that he had spent most of his time at the Cloud Recesses acting as a purveyor of a very different type of art.

Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes – fondly, of course, she was always very fond of her boys, even when they forgot that she was three years older than they were – and said, “All right, then, and when were you going to share some with me?”

“I was trying to figure out what types of things you liked first!” Nie Huaisang protested, and this was why she spent so much time with him even when her other boys were also here – he didn’t forget that she was the jiejie, the one who took care of him and made the decisions about what was appropriate, and he was the didi. He didn’t assume that being a man was more important than age, didn’t put aside their “games” of caring in favor of a valiant warlike demeanor; he remained, wonderfully, the same. “I’d gotten it down to three – here, you take this one; let me know what you think.” He winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out to make sure no one comes by while you’re reading.”

“If it’s anything too filthy, you’ll be punished,” she told him, and he looked so delighted by the notion that she suspected she was going to be getting something very filthy indeed. “Little boys don’t need to be looking at such things.”

“Without supervision,” he clarified, and sat down next to her with bright eyes full of anticipation, somehow even more shameless than Wei Wuxian. “From a qualified adult. Like Jiang-jiejie!”

The artwork was utterly filthy, but it was, in fact, just the sort of thing she liked when she snuck into her mother’s rooms to sneak peeks at books filched from the high shelves – better, even, and Nie Huaisang seemed to have an endless supply of it even though he complained bitterly that he’d only brought the cheap stuff that he wouldn’t mind losing, and that the best of that had been mostly bartered away.

That was what it was for, she discovered. Nie Huaisang was selling pornography to bored Wen sect retainers in exchange for creature comforts – better food, a nicer resting place, leniency when he inevitably failed to complete some chore or another – and using the conversations to elicit information.

Not spying, per se, that was far too serious for someone as determinedly frivolous as Nie Huiasang, but it was nice to know when the Wen sect was planning a surprise inspection in the morning or if it was a good day to put on their worst clothing because they were going to be wading through mud.

“You could be quite dangerous if you wanted to be,” she commented to Nie Huaisang one evening while she was brushing his hair. He was very particular about his braids, but he let her do the brushing and oiling; the repetitive action calmed his anxiety, and seeing him calm down and relax into her care in turn calmed her own. “You’re very good at being underestimated.”

“I think I’m estimated at just about right, actually,” he joked. If it had been Jiang Cheng saying it, he would have been turning a dagger on himself with the words; if it had been Wei Wuxian, he would have been boasting; with Nie Huaisang, it was just a joke. He had the confidence to be openly useless – the surest sign of a supportive loving family, she thought wistfully. “What about you? How dangerous are you when you’re not thinking about how to take care of someone?”

“I’m always thinking of that,” she chided him, and tugged lightly on his braids in chastisement; he shivered and quailed very satisfactorily when she did that. Such a good boy for her, when he wanted to be; a very good little brat the rest of the time. “And you know I’m not much of a cultivator.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “I still think Jiang-jiejie could be very scary if she put her mind to it.”

It was nice that he thought so. Nobody else did – perhaps what was why she’d become so interested in caring for people, in making food that they liked and brushing their hair and taking care of their clothing, the sorts of feminine arts that puzzled her mother and weren’t even necessary for a sect leader’s daughter to know how to do. She did it because it was something she could do that, and after a while it became something she longed to do.

Jiang Yanli loved taking care of people.

And Nie Huaisang was so very good at being taken care of.

Even better than her little A-Xian, if she would allow herself the traitorous little thought – Wei Wuxian liked to play the child for her sometimes, to be spoiled, but he would get bored soon enough, staying only long enough for a few bites of soup and then running off to bicker with Jiang Cheng or to be the brave and chivalrous da-shixiong of the Jiang sect.

Not so Nie Huaisang. He was her little brat all day long: whining and in need of comfort one moment, running too far ahead and in need of a scolding the next, always pushing his luck to see what he could get away with. He was soft, like her; bad at cultivating and good at things like painting and cooking and gossip, feminine things, domestic things, which meant that they had an endless supply of things to talk about that no one else cared about. He made mischief but was obedient, and he thrived under the structure she provided for him, coaxed into doing what he ought and directed away from doing what he shouldn’t.

He was adorable, in a way that she’d never felt about her actual brothers.

Her newest little didi, her A-Sang.

They were, perhaps, growing a little too close.

(But no, Jiang Yanli still maintained the boundaries of being a proper young lady, good obedient Jiang-guniang. Even if she had picked up a very specific pornography habit – but she was never going to tell anyone about that.)

Still, it came as a surprise when they were all in the dark, wretched cave, when the Wen sect threatened them and the corrupted Xuanwu lashed out against the walls to bring down rocks, when one of the Nie sect disciples pushed her behind a rock, shouting, “Take care of Nie-gongzi!” to her as if they really expected her to keep him safe.

“Your men trust me too much,” she said into Nie Huaisang’s hair – his arms were wrapped around her, his eyes watching the battlefield, flicking from side to side as he tracked the course of battle with far more expertise than her. “Don’t you think they meant for you to take care of me?”

“They want you to help keep me from being upset,” he said, and disengaged from her long enough to pick up a fallen sword and throw it with surprising accuracy into the fray – it pieced one of the Wen sect soldiers from behind, breaking their battle line, and the Nie sect disciples overwhelmed them.

It was a masterful stroke, but Nie Huaisang recoiled from his own hand as if he’d been burned by it. His eyes were wide and white all around the edges, old fears rearing up to rend him into pieces from the inside - she knew the look of it.

“It’s all right,” she said, whispering in his ear. “You did well, didi.”

His shoulders relaxed.

Whatever had made Nie Huaisang so very afraid of shedding blood must had hurt him very deeply, Jiang Yanli thought, and the Nie sect knew it. It all made sense now: that was why they indulged him, why they spoiled him, why they allowed him to grow up as useless as he was, even as they feared him falling into danger.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be dangerous - but he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

(Jiang Yanli was very curious to meet the older brother he spoke so very much about. Nearly as much as she spoke of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng, in fact, and didn’t that say everything she needed to know?)

“You should be careful, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang murmured as they watched from their safe place as the battle raged on. Every once in a while, he intervened, each strike perfectly placed to cause maximum damage and showing that no matter how much he whined about training there was still muscle and deadly instincts beneath his skin; after each move, she would squeeze him tight and help him regulate his breathing, suppressing the panic attack he immediately fell into so that it could be postponed until a more convenient time. “I might grow to rely on you, and then where would we be? You’d have no choice but to come back to Qinghe and spend your life there with me.”

It was an offer, she thought in surprise, however gently phrased.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one getting a little too close.

As it happened, Jiang Yanli didn’t have time to respond before the battle finally ended as abruptly as it had started, the Wen sect fleeing the Xuanwu and closing off the exit to the cave, trapping them inside with a ravenous Xuanwu – although one that couldn’t reach them in the corner where they cowered away from it.

The valorous men and women debated what ought to be done next.

The useless ones sat around and waited for their fates to be decided.

Oddly enough, this was the part that began to wear on her. The battle had passed almost without her noticing it, all her attention on caring for Nie Huaisang, but this aftermath - or preliminary, depending on how you looked at it - was utterly agonizing. Watching her brothers ignore her (useless in a fight), think nothing of her (they don’t need her to care for them), no one thought anything of her (what use is she if they don’t need her?) – and then watching them yell at each other and argue and fight without quarter, without mercy, and knowing that she couldn’t intervene, that she was pointless. Her own stress began rising rapidly, her heart beating hard, her breath starting to come short –

“Hey, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang said.

She looked at him.

He smiled at her. “I’m hungry. You should make me some soup.”

“Brat,” Jiang Yanli said automatically, and her shoulders slowly came down, calm returning to her heart. He was obviously saying it to comfort her, she wasn’t stupid, but at the same time the request somehow suited her down to the ground and did the trick the way nothing else might have – after all, if her cowardly little brat had enough energy and attention to spare to be begging for food, things couldn’t be that bad. “What type of soup were you thinking?”

His smile widened as he watched the Xuanwu thrashing in the lake, dissatisfied that it could not capture them and rend their bones with its teeth. “Turtle soup.”

(They served it at their wedding.)

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang yanli #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #does nie huaisang/jiang yanli have a ship name?#my fic #my fics #making tweaks to my general NHS headcanon #turtle soup #roseunspindle

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moonlightreal · 4 years

Text

Winx Club Season 8/18

You’re right, all the episodes were gone from Raiplay! Dang, now I wish I’d watched til the end when they were all up. This was the last episode I have; now we’ll have to wait until the next batch drops on @winxclubcomics. Go send her a nice note wouldya? She is a true load-bearing member of this fandom. And I hope her sources deliver the rest of the season soon!

Shameless plug: I also write fiction. Very long fiction. If y’all need more Winx while you quarantine, I’ve got a story that’ll probably last you ‘til we can all go out again!

In the meantime...

In which Palladium teaches a spell and some lumens lay down the law.

18 Valley of the Flying Unicorns

Yay flying unicorns! Bloom seems just as enthused as I am when she voiceovers the title.

In Palladium’s class. The girls take notes. Bloom draws a picture of Sky. Love it when the writers remember that she draws.

Palladium announces they’re going to learn to make a perfect hair and makeup potion! He sounds totally thrilled about it, heh. Is that how Palladium keeps his hair lookin’ so good? Is it normal in elf society for dudes to be all about the perfect hair? Or is there something we should know about our favorite elf? Well in the comics he has a girlfriend, Athris, so I guess the only canon we have for Palladium in love says he’s straight.

Stella is enthused too, of course. She squees about how she adores cosmetic potions, and leaps to be Palladium’s assistant for a demonstration.

But these potions are very delicate and require “maximum concentration and minimal excitement.”

Stella deflates. Dang, there could’ve been a callback to season one where we hear Stella blew up the potions lab trying to create a new shade of pink.

Palladium decided Bloom is a better choice for assistant. But she’s distracted by mopily drawing Sky. Tecna pokes her and says, “Are you offline?” which I have never heard to mean that but I think it’s great. Like Tecna’s “achievement unlocked” thing I think Rainbow is trying to get her back to a unique (nerdy) way of speaking. I kinda would have preferred the real season one’s “I am logical and don’t understand normal stuff” Tec rather than “Nerd is the new cute!” Tec, but either one is an attempt to make her unique, so props to Rainbow!

Bloom mopes. Palladium growls. Bloom pops up and has no clue what she’s supposed to be doing. She drops things in the cauldron.

Ingredients: five drops of liquid beauty, three petals of a young lily, and a teaspoonful of lunar essence. Hmm, so if I were going to make this… the lily petals are easy, and for lunar essence you put a quartz crystal in a bowl of water and leave it in the light of a full moon. The “liquid beauty” is a red liquid in a test tube, so… lemme get Cunningham’s… where the heck is my Cunningham’s?!… well, none of the plants listed under” beauty: to attain” are plants that would create a red liquid. So I’d use some kind of pomegranate juice drink, because pomegranates are associated with Persephone whose beauty was so great that death himself fell in love with her.

Next Bloom has to visualize the final effect of the spell. But since Bloom is distracted there’s a poof and then Palladium’s hair is a bird’s nest, with an egg and two parent birds in it! He is very grumpy, but still cute! The rest of the class laughs and Bloom apologizes. Stella snarks that her excitement didn’t turn out to be the problem here!

So it’s not a potion for drinking, so you could totally cast this spell. Just not if you have cats; lilies are toxic to cats so they shouldn’t be in the same house just in case.

Great outdoor shot of Alfea. In the courtyard the girls ask Bloom what has her so distracted. It’s Sky, of course it is, he hasn’t been in contact for days! Bloom knows he’s on a secret mission, but she can’t stop worrying that he’s in danger. A rather sensible worry with the Trix and Valtor out there. But Bloom was worried about Sky getting caught by “Eraklyon’s royal condors” which resulted in the bird nest.

Bloom shifts to the next worry: either Sky isn’t able to message, or he’s choosing not to. Flora rather shallowly tells her not to think about it, but here’s Twinkle to shift the scene by crashing into Bloom!

There’s no trouble, Twinkle just came to visit. But then the star case appears. “The third prime star waits on Monocerous, not far, look beyond the clouds and higher, you’ll find the trust that you desire.”

Monocerous?! I- I- That is a dumb name! Yeah I know it means one-horn, it’s still dumb sounding!

Stella doesn’t know the place, but Twinkle has visited and tells them about the unicorns. She’ll take them there!

Valtor’s watching. He sends the Trix out. Darcy says following the Winx is getting annoying. Stormy says the riddle was about trust and she trusts—herself! She wants to go alone! can’t say I disagree, Stormy, with sisters like yours.

Icy jumps on her about how finding one star doesn’t make her the strongest witch in the magic universe and how SHE’ll get the star just time. Stormy snarks back. Lovin’ Stormy this season! Valtor gets bored with this and snaps at them but he does show off his green star, he’s keeping it in a bubble with a sort of pink thorny vine grown around it.

Cut to winxboarding over a green land of lakes and rainbows and waterfalls, just the kind of place winged unicorns like to live. This realm also has floating islands, what I think are called “earthmotes” in D&D, they’re a terrain feature I’m fond of. The girls enjoy boarding. Twinkle says it’s “starsome” here.”

Tec says she’s read that winged unicorns don’t trust strangers and maybe they should “prepare some kind of speech.” but Stella and Flora are sure they’ll be fine.

And then Diaspro plummets out of the sky. Wait, what? It looks like the same world but clearly not exactly where the Winx are. Sky is flying with his Specialist suit and Disapro has similar metal wings-- NOT her fairy wings—and she’s flailing around unable to fly straight. “I hate this flying gizmo! Sky, can’t you just carry me?” she asks in the most smarmy voice ever.

Sky says that’s not an option, in the most utterly done voice ever.

Why isn’t Disa using her own wings?? Is she for absolute not a fairy since the timeslide??

Sky says they need to get past the floating rocks to reach the lost locket of Eraklyon, which they’re apparently still looking for. Was that temple on Monocerous? Why would the locket be on an uninhabited world that’s so out of the way Stella hadn’t heard of it even though it has unicorns and I’m sure Stella went through a phase when unicorns were the greatest thing ever, since every girl goes through that phase! I’m not sure I ever left that phase!

We see some flying unicorns, white with wings and colored manes and tails. I think the sight of them does Sky some good because he questions if they’re really going to find the locket—but Diaspro’s walked away.

Then she… startles a unicorn and it tries to take off but Diaspro floats into the air for no discernible reason and she falls on Sky. Did her wings malfunction? Do the unicorns have a flight field around them that she got caught in? It was a very weird little moment.

Because this is not an anime, she does not land with her boobs on Sky’s face but I’m sure she wishes she had. Sky gets up, growling, and Disa says, “I can’t imagine what I’d do if I were alone, among such fierce creatures!”

“Yeah. Very fierce.” Sky says with all the skepticism we’re all feeling.

He flies off into the sky with Diaspro wobbling after. He asks Diaspro if she’s sure they’re in the right place. She unrolls her ‘map’ again—still emojis of her and Sky in a heart!--and says the medallion is on one of the floating rocks. But there are a lot of them. Sky suggests splitting the party but Diaspro is too scared.

But they’ve got company! Unilumens! With pink hair and unicorn horn headbands. They say the floating rocks are just for unicorns and their friends.

Sky starts to ask about the medallion but Diaspro says, ‘We’re on a special mission for the king of Eraklyon so we can go where we please.”

Disa, these lumens are not Eraklyon subjects…

The lumens attack! Ahahahaha! Yay unilumens! They shoot pink blasts and Sky and Diaspro jump into the air to dodge. Diaspro drops her map, which unrolls on the ground. Sky sees it!

Sky: “But this is not a real map! it’s a fake!”

Diaspro; “Um, uh, I, I can explain, well actually...” she admits she made it up to keep their mission going as long as possible.

Sky yells at her.

Eventually he realizes there is in fact no medallion to find. Disa admits to this too.

Lumen: “I think she deserves to be punished! Can we handle this?” She sounds delightfully eager to lay some karma on Diaspro, it’s a wonderfully delivered line.

But Sky says, “No thanks, lumens. We’ll just go back home.” He throws the map at Diaspro’s feet and walks off, leaving the crowd of lumens disappointed.

Diaspro: “Ooooh! My plan has failed! And it’s all your fault!”

Unilumen kicks the map and sticks her tongue out at Diaspro. Ahahahahaha! Love it!

Back with the Winx, more boarding, gotta sell those toys! They land and watch the three unicorns, but every unicorn they approach flies away.

They’re talking about looking for the prime star when up rumbles… a stampede of unilumens!

“More uninvited guests! Are they all coming today?” Heh. Unilumen attack!

But Twinkle stops them. The unilumens recognize her as a fellow lumen and she explains the mission. Unilumens consult each other and decide to trust the Winx.

Cute scene of everybody sitting on the grass as the unilumens give them flower necklaces. The head unilumen introduces herself as “Esteria, leader of the Monocerous lumens tribe.” I would’ve gone with “Epona” because I’ve always liked that name, but Esteria is prettier.

Bloom tells them about the mission, and Esteria says the prime star may be in “the horn” but only the ubnicorns can fly there; a magic barrier blocks anyone else. Stella despairs.

But Esteria says the unicorns just don’t trust them yet. She whistles and color-coded unicorns fly down. Purple, blue, pink, green, more-pink, and yellow. They’re… boring designs. Your basic winged unicorn, nothing special.

Esteria says winged unicorns are kind, but they choose who can ride them. Stella’s keen to give up after just being snubbed by a few unicorns, but Aisha gets her back on target for the mission.

Esteria says they just have to walk slowly through the group and the unicorns will choose them.

Bloom steps on a twig and it scares her unicorn, but they make friends anyway. The other girls and unicorns pair up in short order. Aisha is adorably enthusiastic, I knew she’d be the most keen on riding.

Stella is the least interested, which is weird. I’d think she’d love everything about unicorns. Her unicorn takes a bite out of her skirt and sniggers at her.

Then the unicorns grin in a way unicorns should never do, and their horns light up and the girls get new clothes! Cowboy wear! With short layered skirts that are super cute but probably not practical for riding, boots, and cowboy hats. The unicorns gave themselves hair decorations at the same time, heh.

Esteria confirms that the girls have made another bond, I guess the new clothes are a sign of it. Could this be a transformation? Without wings, because a transformation granted by a winged creature wouldn’t need them. We shall call it… Cowboyix! ...or maybe we won’t.

Everybody mounts up, the unicorns kneel to let them, except for Stella’s who makes her chase it.

Now the unicorns will take them where they want to go… if “he” allows them through.

Everybody’s off! Twinkle stays with the unilumens.

Flying! Stella’s unicorn bucks her off but then catches her. Stella screams a lot in general. Stella really doesn’t like riding, or unicorns. Do we have any precedent for her not liking horses? I don’t remember her having any trouble riding Shiny in Tynix form, and they all ride horses in season 4, right..? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen season 4. So maybe not being good at riding is a new quirk the riders gave her, or maybe it’s just part of her general Usagi-ish comic relief-ness.

On the other side of wherever, Sky is giving Diaspro some well deserved grief. Good grief Sky, just haul her home and dump her already. Diaspro sits and pouts while he rants about how she noticed his fight with his father and sprang the mission knowing Sky wouldn’t check with Erendor since they were on the outs.

Diaspro: “Oh, lay off! Was it really so terrible to take a tour of the magic universe in my company?”

Sky: “Of course it was terrible!” Heh.

Sky rants how he hasn’t been home and hasn’t seen Bloom, Disa says if Bloom really cared she’d understand it was an important mission, Sky points out that it was not in fact an important mission.

A scary wind blows! “He” is coming! Unicorns and unilumens, who were totally watching Sky and Disa fight, flee!

It’s… it’s…

The baddie from the My Little Pony movie?

(which I haven’t seen since I didn’t get around to getting it out of the library.)

It’s a big black unicorn with a silver horn that’s broken off halfway up. He rears and trumpets, then dives at the two humans. Sky drags Diaspro out of the way. The black unicorn chases them!

Sky leaves Disa on a small floating island and flies off, leading the black unicorn away. Oh no, he went the wrong way! Dead end! The unicorn blasts him with fire from its horn and he falls down, his suit sparking. No more suit powers!

The unicorn advances menacingly… cliffhanger!

Hmm, this unicorn has fire colored eyes, just like Diaspro’s. I’m glad we got more from Diaspro this episode, I was so looking forward to seeing more of that “map.” Hehehe.

#winx club season 8 #winx club

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agustdef · 5 years

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Here & Now - Chapter 15

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 2,321

Warning: None.

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn

A hard knock on my bedroom door had me looking away from my phone and sitting up. My mother stood in the doorway, giving me a fake glare.

“Get your butt out here. Everybody’s here and ready.”

Without a word I got off the bed, grabbing my phone and power bank before padding out of the room. I could hear them downstairs before I even made one step, being rowdy as usual. When I finally got there they were all surrounding the coffee table, grabbing at the containers of Chinese food laying about.

“Drop it, Uncle Myron. You know that’s not for you.” I said.

The collective turned their heads to see me standing there, everyone’s expressions shocked. Then all at once the five of my uncles were pulling me into hugs that were way too tight.

“You didn’t say you were coming,” Uncle Joseph said as they pulled away.

“She surprised all of us,” my mother chimed in.

They all turned to glare at me, but I just smiled and walked past them. “I finished work that I needed to be present for early and thought I’d just pop in. I’m going to be on a vacation for the next month.”

I was already sitting on the floor at the corner of the table with my container of vegetable fried rice when they sat down. Uncle Bryce tried to grab it and when that failed tried to go for the general tso chicken that was also solely mine; each time he got his hand slapped.

“A vacation? You?” Uncle Phillip scoffed as he shoved his nasty shrimp fried rice in his face.

“Yes, I take those sometimes. It’s been a while and even though I still have things to do, but nothing pressing and there’s a no project thing in place for the next month. I think it would be good for me.

I could practically hear my mother roll her eyes. “And Marcus made her.”

“Yes, and Marcus made me.”

They all laughed and poked fun at me because they knew better than anyone that I needed to be pushed to take a vacation sometimes. Even if I really wanted it or felt like it would do me some good I wouldn’t. Sometimes I got too worried that I’d completely slack off, which was stupid since I still maintained my schedule to get things on deadline done in the midst of every vacation.

Uncle Byron nudged me softly, smiling down at me. “Well, we happy to see you and that you’re relaxing. What are you going to do? Travel some? Never leave your bed?”

I shrugged, continuing to eat my food. “I’ll see what I feel like as the days pass.”

After that, we all descended into the silence that was eating and watching Shameless for the hundredth time. We all enjoyed the chaos that was the show and would always end up rewatching it when together or we’d watch the anime Hellsing Ultimate. Took us forever to start new stuff when hanging out.

Once dinner was over and things were cleaned up, Uno was the new focus. And as usual chaos and betrayal were the only things present.

“You can’t stack Draw Fours!” Uncle Phillip tried to push the cards away.

“Yes, the hell I can!” I said, blocking his attempt.

“Since when?”

“Since always. Just because you went elsewhere and got used to their weak ass rules doesn’t mean they fly here. Now pick up sixteen cards.”

Everyone except him tried to keep a straight face but ended up bursting into laughter. He was not pleased in the slightest, or that’s at least what I gathered from the deep-set frown he wore.

The game was getting more intense and I swore Uncle Bryce was cheating, but it mattered not to me.

Placing down the other five cards I had that were all different colors, but all the number three. “Uno. Uno out!”

I was the first to accomplish this and fist-pumped in victory, which just earned a whole lot of glaring my way. My mother even jabbed me in the side, which hurt like hell.

“Cheater,” Uncle Bryce mumbled.

“How?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but you did.”

“You’re one to talk.”

His mouth opened and closed as he seemed to get what I was implying. Glancing away from me he focused on the game, probably hoping not to be the loser as usual.

Sitting back I grabbed my pop from the table and watch is all unfold. My mother was hardcore glaring at Bryce, which meant she too was noticing something off about him. It would be hilarious if he was caught and had to suffer the penalty.

“So, dating anyone Kennie?” Uncle Joseph asked.

My face scrunched up and I eyed him carefully. He wore a blank expression, but it felt like he was up to no good. He was almost always up to no good. He was the class clown of the uncle collective.

“No, but she does think someone is cute and has developed a crush?” Mother said without even glancing my way.

“Where are you pulling this information from, mother?” I asked.

“Your face and the sweet boy who you were talking to yesterday. Same sweet boy from when I called and video chatted you a few months ago. He’s cute and seems to like you.”

If she didn’t always seem to pick up on things I would have been shocked by her conclusion. All of my life she’d been able to suss out things with ease and it was creepy then, but I’d learned to get used to it. Not like I lied to her about anything anyway. But I had to admit her picking up on feelings that I was just accepting made me feel awkward. Also the thought of Yoongi returning them.

“Sure. Maybe. I don’t know. I refuse to have this conversation.”

“Aw, why not? Don’t want to address your feelings?” Uncle Phillip teased.

Turning to the side I stared him down. “Want to discuss that time you and my mother dated when I was seven and eight? The thing you don’t think I remember?”

Both of them choked on air and their eyes went wide.

“How?” mother whispered.

I shrugged. “Not my fault you tried to sell that whole all of these are your uncles, even though two of them aren’t blood related narrative so hard that you thought sneaking around a curious seven-year-old would work out. Not like I would have cared, I understood the difference.”

Everyone had paused and the awkward silence made me laugh. It was so funny when they were all left so shocked that they couldn’t say anything. My daughter earned a punch to the arm from my mother, which stung for ten minutes after. Didn’t stop me from laughing though.

After they all took a moment to breathe and got back to their game. Just as my phone rang Bryce was found out and they were all yelling accusations at him.

I didn’t leave the room but curled up in the loveseat a tad farther from the main couch. Turning on my headphones I slipped them in and answered the call as they connected.

It took a second, but Yoongi’s face filled the phone. He seemed to be in a dance studio, at least that’s what I got from the large mirrors. Also the small glimpse of Jungkook being a dork in the reflection.

“Hey.”

He didn’t say anything, just squinted and looked behind me.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you not at home? That doesn’t look familiar and it seems darker than it should be.”

The realization that we hadn’t spoken much the past few days hit me. That and I’d only told Marcus and my boss that I was going to be leaving for Chicago.

“Oh, no I’m at my mom’s house. So, two hours ahead.”

Yoongi just continued to stare, his expression still confused. In an instant it shifted to a glare, his entire face becoming one he used when he was about to accuse me or someone else of something.

“You started your vacation early and didn’t tell me?” He sounded offended.

“...maybe.”

For the longest he just stared at me, his eyes narrowing so much that I wasn’t completely sure that they were open at all. But I could still see them scrunching up more and more, then opening wide again. He changed his strategy and then he was pouting, though I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not.

Everyone knew that the cuteness exuded was my weakness and were not afraid to use it against me.

“I’m sorry. I finished up faster than expected and decided to come home. I still don’t know what I’m going to do about the rest of the vacation though. Plus, plus only the people in charge of me know.”

He huffed but seemed to accept my response. The pout remained and I internally gushed at the way his cheeks puffed out but tried my best to keep it together. I hadn’t even realized I’d started smiling until he was smiling back at me.

“I feel like I could pinch your cheeks from here,” he mumbled. It was so low I was sure he hadn’t meant for me to hear it, which was backed up by his eyes going wide and him staring me down.

Keeping it together I tried to maintain the same face as before, not wanting for him to do that thing where he got shy and awkward. That always led to him to rushing off the phone and I wanted to talk to him. I’d grown used to calls or video chats almost daily when he wasn’t too busy.

“So, why’d you call without warning?” I asked, hoping his mind wouldn’t linger.

“Oh, I wanted to see if you ha…”

Before he could finish there was a scream from the other side of the living room that caught my attention. I’d been so preoccupied with him that I’d forgotten what was happening in the room.

Uncle Bryce was laying on the ground sprawled out as a bag of ice was being poured into his pants, he looked so distraught.

My eyes moved back to the phone and I smirked. “Want to see something equal parts funny and chaotic?”

At first, he looked annoyed, then curious. After a second he nodded and then I switched it to the other camera. He got the view of them shoving the last remnants of the ice bag into Bryce’s pants. His jaw dropped as he watched on.

"We're adults, how are we still doing things like this?" Uncle Bryce asked, trying to sound calm.

Uncle Phillip scoffed. "Yeah, we're adults so shut up and take your cold balls like an adult."

Trying not to laugh I switch back to the front-facing one. Yoongi kind of looked scared for a second or two.

“Why?”

With the straightest face I could must I said, “He dared cheat at Uno, he knew the consequences. He’s lucky it isn’t winter, or he’d be sitting outside in the cold for fifteen minutes naked.”

That did not clear his confusion.

“Why… what?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know Yoon, these were the laws they created when they were still in college. I merely abide by them.”

He went to speak, but then there was someone yelling in the background. If I’d heard correctly it was saying the break would be over in like three minutes.

Whatever he was going to say forgotten his face went neutral and much more serious. My stomach churned feeling so unsure of what he’d say next.

“Okay, I have to be quick. You have a month off and as you said no plans, right?”

I nodded.

“So, I know you’ve at least gotten a glimpse of your other work environments even if you haven’t worked there. And Bang PDnim and Joon were talking, which I overheard and now we’re wondering if you’d like to come here for a few weeks. Just to get a sense of the work environment.” He spoke so quickly that my brain jumbled the words and I had to take a moment to decode it.

When I caught up I froze a little. “Me in Korea for a few weeks?”

He nodded eyes flickering off camera and then back at me. “It would give you some more information before you make your decision.”

“Uh…”

A hand wave drew my attention to the collective, who was mostly still laughing at Uncle Bryce trying not to cry. But my mother was looking at me and nodding her head. I was confused and then she mouthed ‘do it’ and I understood.

My gaze moved to him and he was now standing up and standing next to Joon who was staring elsewhere.

“What happened to me not working much during this break?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes and grinned, his urgency gone. “It’s not even work. You’re not even bound to do anything, just hang out and meet everyone.”

I pursed my lips as if thinking. “Well, I’ve met two of the producers there and already have some complaints.”

“Hey!” Joon tilted closer to the screen and threw me a playful glare.

“I’m kidding. Sure, it sounds like it would be nice. I’d be traveling, exploring and still not feel so useless doing nothing.”

Yoongi smiled wide and Joon shouted yes before being scolded by someone that sounded like Hoseok. He turned to scold Yoongi too, after yelling a greeting to me from behind the phone.

“Okay. I’ll text you later and Bang should get in touch with you soon. Must go before Hobi throws my phone at a wall,” he rushed out while laughing.

“Okay, bye.” I waved and he hung up.

My mother was still staring at me, but this time she winked and gave a thumbs up.

#min yoongi #yoongi #min suga #original character #oc #sugaxoc #yoongixoc #producer!oc #writer!oc #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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mythiica · 5 years

Text

Reader x Levi Ackerman - Blood Rusted Memories

Title: Blood Rusted Memories

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Character: Levi Ackerman

Genre: angst

Warnings: Strong language, violent imagery, MAJOR SPOILERS!!!!!

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1809 words

Shameless self promo: check out my dA

Other comments: THIS HAS MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE LATEST CHAPTERS OF AOT YOU WILL BE IN FOR A BIG SPOILER

You never expected to see him again.

Five years ago, you left the Survey Corps because you could not stand to watch everyone throw away their lives for the possibility of a better life. The future was too unstable, and you refused to wager your heart and soul to a man who had no intentions of keeping them safe.

But despite your efforts, here he is. Slung over Hanji’s shoulder and covered in dark crimson from head to toe. The patch had slipped off of her eye, revealing a mangled scar and void that once held an eye. But she pays little attention to it, instead insisting that you let them both in to your little cottage immediately because people were going to try to kill him.

You could have slammed the door in her face, but your gaze drifts from her trembling lips to his masked face. In the years that you had fought beside him, he had never been so reckless as to allow himself an injury, but now…

“Mama, who is that?” your son asks you, clinging to your skirt. Your hand lands on his head, stroking his hair tenderly before you push him into the house. “Tell your sister to stay in the kitchen. If someone knocks on the door, do not answer. Understood?”

Hanji helps you lower him into the bathtub, and you begin to remove his ragged clothes before throwing them into the sink. You don’t know whether to wash his wounds first or to stop the bleeding. At this rate, he would die from how much blood he is losing, so you rip your skirt and wrap his head, only leaving room for his mouth and nose to poke through.

She tries to help, but you swat her away, telling her to attend to her own wounds before she thinks of helping Levi. You take a sponge and clean the dirt and blood from the rest of his body. When you lift his arm, you realize that he is missing two of his fingers… how sad.

Why has it come to this? you ask yourself as scarlet swirls down the drain. Must you be obsessed with your own demise? He begins to stir, groaning and kicking his legs.

You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to push him down, and as soon as your fingers curl over his bare skin, he relaxes and sulks back against the tub. “Where the fuck am I?”

“You still have a foul mouth as ever. But you will not speak to my children like that.”

Even though the bandage restricts him from seeing your face, he immediately knows who it is from the sound of your voice. And in two sentences, you’ve stirred old memories and revealed that you have children… A breath escapes from his bruised lips before he whispers, “(Y/n)… you’re alive.”

“Better than what you can say. Shut up now, because I think the bleeding at your face as stopped. I need to clean your eye and maybe I can save it.”

“My eye?”

He didn’t realize that his face was scarred up? You raise an eyebrow and unravel the fabric. Indeed the flow of blood had reduced, so you tap the sponge to his cheek. Levi winces and pulls back immediately, lifting his hand to touch the flesh.

“Stop that.”

He curses under his breath, but continues to feel the scar. As his fingers nails press against the torn muscles, a disgusting squelching sound makes your stomach flip.

“I said stop. You barely escaped with your life. This will heal, but let me clean it.”

Levi looks at you for the first time since you’ve removed the makeshift bandage. His left eye is as dull as the injured one, as the life had left it many years ago. “When did you learn to be so demanding?”

You laugh wryly, dipping the sponge into the tub. “After Henry really.”

“Your son?”

“No, my late husband.”

Levi does not ask any more questions, leaving the two of you in silence until you’ve successfully washed away the dirt and dried blood. You stand, drying your hands on a towel, before throwing a bar of soap into the tub. “Clean yourself again, and I’ll get a needle and find something to keep that wound closed.”

He keeps his head forward, but nods slightly, acknowledging what you’ve said. Downstairs, you look through the measly medicine cabinet until you’ve found some small bandage strips that you can use to close the wound until Levi can visit a proper doctor.

Your daughter tugs on your hand, drawing your attention down. “Mommy, there’s someone at the door.” When you look up, you see shadow through the glass of the front door. “Take this upstairs to the bathroom, and don’t come down. Tell the lady to not say anything either, alright?”

She does as told, allowing you to walk to the door. “Yes?”

Three soldiers, equally bloodied as Hanji and Levi were, lean against the frame of the door. They wear mean scowls and try to step inside, but you block the from entering. “May I help you?”

“Did two people come around here?”

“People?”

“Yeah, one with brown hair and an eye patch, the other a short guy with black hair. We’re looking for them – they’re traitors to the Crown and we’ve been sent to collect them.”

You see right through their lie; the patches on their uniforms are that of the Survey Corps, not the Military Police or the Garrison. Why would the royal family send Survey Corps to search for traitors?

“I don’t know, I’m afraid. No one has been here in days.”

One of them cocks their head to the side. “Really? Why are there fresh footprints in the mud outside?”

You smile and force a laugh. “I was doing laundry earlier. My son fell in the woods the other day and scuffed his skin. I had to wash the blood from his clothes, and because of the mud, I wore my husband’s boots.”

They almost believe your story. “Can we speak with him?”

“My husband? I’m afraid not.”

“Why is that?” another one demands.

“He went to the market this morning to try and sell some items we had lying around. He won’t be back until much later.”

“You don’t mind if we look through your house, though, do you? We’ll only be a minute. Just to… verify your story.”

Exhaling, you side step and allow the soldiers to enter. “Of course. I’m afraid I won’t have any food at the moment to offer you. Times have been hard lately…”

You hear shuffling upstairs, so you cough to cover the sounds.

“Have an animal?”

“No,” you laugh, “just two energetic children.”

Your heart thunders as they go through each room, intently looking at everything before moving on. One picks up your boots, and a chunk of dried mud falls from the soles, making your story more plausible.

One of the men sits down, putting his feet up on the table. “So, while you were washing the clothes, you splashed bloodied water over yourself?” He points at your apron, which is covered in diluted scarlet dots and specks of mud.

“The knock at the door startled me, and I dropped the sponge I was using.”

Without saying anything, the other two go upstairs as the one keeps you busy.

“Sorry for that...” he fibs, looking around the small kitchen. He’s trying to give his partners more time to search the upstairs. You only hope that Hanji and Levi managed to hide.

After a few minutes, you hear voices upstairs – your son and daughter talking with the men. Then, four pairs of feet descend. “We’ll be leaving now.”

With that, they exit the house, and you lock the door behind them. Your daughter comes to sit on your lap, but you raise a finger, signaling that she should not speak. “Would you like something to drink, sweetie?”

You don’t know if the soldiers bought your story, so it would be best to play it casually for a few minutes.

When you look out the window, you see their silhouettes pressed against the horizon, so you run upstairs. “Hanji? Levi?”

She exists from your room, having hid in the closet with Levi. “The both of you should rest. I can go to into town to get some medicine.”

But Hanji presses a hand to your shoulder. “We should not have come here. We can leave.”

You look at Levi, who has pressed himself against the bed and fallen to the ground. “They won’t come back. This is the safest place you can stay for a few days. Until you figure out what to do. It’s alright.”

She tries to protest, but you turn away and put Levi onto your bed, wrapping him in the blankets. “Did my daughter give you the clips?”

He nodded and put them in the palm of your hand. You remove the backs and press the skin of his face together before taping the small strips over the wound. They would act as staples and help the muscles heal faster. “Are you in pain?”

“Of course I am. Half of my face is fucking torn.”

“I don’t have anything right now, but tomorrow I will get some.”

You stand up, but Levi catches your hand. You look down, tempted to shake him off, but the subtle warmth from his skin makes your heart calm down. “While you’re here, I don’t want you to know my children’s names. Don’t talk to them more than you have to. Do not leave the house when I am not present either. This is for your safety, but also for my children’s and mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The pad of his thumb rubs against your calloused hand, making you choke on the memories that surface. You thought you had buried them deep enough that they could not haunt you, but now, the man you thought was unbreakable, had come back, shattered and bruised. Although he had not asked you to mend him, you knew that was simply because he could not find the words to do so.

“I will get some more blankets. If you catch a fever, you’ll surely die.”

Levi knows his place now. Memories are memories, even if the past might not be too far away. You had decided your life then and made the most of it, choosing a life without him. You were not responsible for him in anyway, but here you were, risking your live and the lives of your children for him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, completely humbled by this realization. He was in no position to reject your help, and in fact, he was very surprised you had bothered to do so much for him.

“Of course, Levi.”

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #aot #aotchapter115 #aotspoilers #shingeki no kyojin #readerinsert #fanfiction

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