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hillariat · 3 years

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Bubbline fic finished!

Posted the final chapter of my Bubbline fic, check it out!

Also huge thanks to @hehe-food for beta-ing both the 3 and the final chapter

Unexpected

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 5,770

Tags: Fluff, emotionally confused PB.

Summary: Marceline confesses to her long time friend Bonnie. It takes an unexpected turn and, just as things were back to normal, takes another one.

AKA It's Bonnie's gay awakening.

Read it on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/30298620/chapters/74678148 OR down below

The hurried pat-pat of Bonnie’s footsteps echoed through the hallways. Her legs, exhausted from a student council meeting that dragged on for far too long, begged her to slow down by at least 30%. She ignored them. She really didn’t want to keep Marceline waiting any longer than she had to after all.

When Bonnie reached the music room, she heard a familiar tune being played. Smiling to herself, she pushed the door open and saw Marceline perched upon a table and chair in a seat-footstool combo, strumming on her bass guitar. The raven-haired girl turned to Bonnie and smirked.

"’Sup Brainlord, how’s the prep meet?"

“Terrible, Becky wouldn’t shut up about adding more “tasteful” food to the school breakfast program even though that’s clearly out of our budget. It literally took us over half an hour just to move on to another topic.” Bonnie sighed and continued. “If she wasn’t so high up the pecking order, I’d have kicked her out. Personally.”

Marceline nudged her shoulder.

“I could do it for you”

“And be expelled? No thanks. As much as I hate Becky, I don’t think you leaving is worth it.”

Her heart lurched, practically begging to be freed from her chest. She opted to shrug it off, instead turning away from Bonnie to start packing her bass.

“Maybe I could do a prank instead. Y’know something that says, ‘fuck off from student council or else.’”

Bonnie raised her brows.

“Oh, and what would this prank be?”

By the time the girls left the school building, several rotten sandwiches and a passive aggressively typed note were left in Becky’s locker.

__________________________________________________________

"Thanks again for waiting up for me."

Bonnie entered the front passenger seat of Marceline’s car, inhaling the familiar scent of leather, strawberry and wood that probably came from an acoustic instrument lying around somewhere.

“Dude not this again. I told you, you don’t have to thank me every time I wait up for you. It’s like, our thing to hang out on Tuesdays anyways.”

Bonnie buckled in her own seatbelt whilst Marceline started the engine.

“Still, I appreciate the gesture. Not everyone would wait 2 hours just to have afternoon tea with their friend.”

Marceline felt a blush threaten to reveal itself on her cheeks. She really needed to get those butterflies in her ribs under control. She raised her hand, the other hand focused on driving out of the parking lot. “No. Stop with the sap. You’re turning me into a marshmallow.”

“You’re already a marshmallow, Marshmaline”

She gave a playful whack, accompanied by a glare. “Shut up! I am not a marshmallow, I’m too punk rock!”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, unfazed by the other’s glare. They had long lost their terrorizing effect on her. “Sure you are. Oh! That reminds me”

She dug through her bag, fishing out a pack of guitar strings and handing it to Marceline. “Gauge 9 right?”

“Wha- Bon. You didn’t have to.”

Bonnie waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. I distinctly remember a certain someone complaining about forgetting to buy them for 4th week in a row yesterday.” She turned away from Marceline, opting to look at the passing traffic. “and… well, I just happen to pass by the music store when I was at the mall with Lady yesterday.”

Marceline gave her a heartwarming smile.

“Aww, thanks mom”

Bonnie huffed.

“What would you do without me?”

Marceline snorted, smile still evident on her face.

“Forgetting them for another week probably.”

Bonnie chuckled.

“Damn right”

__________________________________________________________

The girls reached their destination, a quaint little café tucked in a quiet neighborhood near their school. Marceline introduced it to Bonnie a while ago, insisting that the red velvet cakes were “to die for”. Bonnie wouldn’t put it the same way, but she did admit that the food was “more than acceptable”. The place quickly became their favorite hangout spot, next to the diner ran by their friend’s ( Finn’s) parents. Though that diner was more of a clique hangout spot. This was more of a 'just them' spot.

They ordered their drinks, an apple pie to share and of course, a slice of red velvet cake for Marceline. They sat at their table, indulging in said items whilst making idle conversation, ranging from the food to Marceline’s music to school gossip.

Bonnie noticed how her shoulders were a little tense, how she would pick and flick her own fingers and how her eyes wandered in a way that said her thoughts weren’t entirely focused on the present. Marceline was clearly bothered by something.

The Bonnie of 5 years ago would’ve pried her incessantly, but now she knew better. Marceline was the kind of person that needed space to figure things out. She would tell Bonnie what was eating at her when she was good and ready. Any prying on Bonnie’s end would lead to scathing remarks and, if allowed to escalate, a fight. Hence, despite the well-meaning itch that urged her to figure out what was bothering her best friend, Bonnie didn’t ask. Respecting Marceline’s boundaries was more important.

When Marceline’s giggling fit died down after a joke about a certain lemon-faced principal , she took a deep breath. She warily made eye contact with Bonnie.

“I need to tell you something. Its -It’s important”

“Okay”. Bonnie nodded and kept her eyes at Marceline expectantly, conveying that Marceline had her full undivided attention. A long, pregnant pause ensued. Bonnie was tempted to break the silence, but Marceline got there first.

“I’m gay.”

Okay. That wasn’t what Bonnie expected. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, no not at all. Bonnie was just very unfamiliar with coming-out-of-the-closet etiquette. After all, most of her friends were straight.

She was clearly out of her element here. How should she respond to this? Did Marceline want a boisterous congratulation? Or a simple acceptance? In the end, Bonnie did what she always did when she was uncertain about things.

“Okay, what am I supposed to do with that information?”

Marceline raised her brows in surprise. She was expecting more of a reaction to that. Bonnie had just…. rolled with it. Maybe her fears were indeed unfounded. Maybe. It was still too early to tell.

Marceline took a deep breath, gathering what little courage it could provide and continued.

“I’m gay for you. As in, I like you. Like, like-like you.”

For a moment, Bonnie was tempted to make fun of Marceline’s unironic use of “like-like” but knew better than to do that. Instead, she was contemplating her response to it. She knew exactly what she should say, she knew her answer to that obvious unsaid question, but the vulnerable expression on Marceline’s face made her hesitate. Marceline looked so fragile, as if a gentle breeze could shatter her. The only other time Bonnie saw the other like this was when Marceline’s mother had passed.

Bonnie furrowed her brows, bit her bottom lip, and took a deep breath. It was definitely going to hurt, but she was good at making tough decisions for the people she cared about.

“I … don’t feel the same way. I’ve only ever seen you as a friend. I’m sorry Marceline.”

She could see Marceline shattering right in front of her. The girl’s shoulders slumped, a frown formed on her face and, most troubling of all; the light in the girl’s eyes dimmed. For a moment Bonnie wanted to take her words back, to make Marceline beam instead with an acceptance. But she knew from experience that giving false hope was worse than a flat-out rejection, so she kept her mouth shut.

In a flash, Marceline’s demeanor switched. She had a smile plastered on her face and her posture likewise improved. Perhaps it was a prepared response, as if she already knew this was the probable outcome. Though her newfound demeanor couldn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s cool. It’s cool.”

She paused as if unsure as to whether she should utter the next line. She opened her mouth, her voice wavered before she could even muster the first word.

“We can still be friends, right?” Accompanied with, again, a vulnerable expression. But this time it came from a girl who was already kicked down.

“Of course.” and Marceline wasn’t the only one who wanted to believe that.

They fell into silence, neither girl looking at each other anymore. There were no more words to be said on the matter. Bonnie glanced at the clock in the café. Time ticked by slowly, as if a second was enough time to write an entire thesis.

She searched for a change of topic, not wanting the silence to stretch into awkward territory. Her eyes wandered the surroundings and found it on their table. She gestured to the item.

“Are you going to finish that cake?” Bonnie’s fork was already threateningly hovering above the slice of cake.

Marceline smirked and hoped she didn’t misread Bonnie’s seemingly playful tone.

“I swear, one day you’re gonna get diabetes Bon. You’re such a sugar slut.”

Bonnie completely ignored her friend’s warning and grabbed the last bit of cake, eating it with a slight smile on her face.

“And you – She pointed to Marceline with her empty fork- are distasteful.”

Marceline laughed at that, the tension now fully leaving her. Bonnie could say the same, though she was just smiling at her friend.

Things were going to be okay.

Chapter 2: Confusion

The coffee cup made a clack as it landed on the table.

“Figured you’d want this.” Marceline flashed a toothy grin, though this one was softer than the usual mischievous one. Still, it was one Bonnie was well acquainted with.

Her stomach squirmed. She blinked. Odd. She didn’t remember having shellfish the night before.

“Uhhm, thanks.” She didn’t know why she fumbled. Marceline always got her coffee for their afternoon study sessions. She took a sip. Caramel Macchiato with an extra shot and drizzle, just the way she liked it, though for some reason, today it tasted a little sweeter.

Marceline plotted herself next to Bonnie and started rummaging through her bag. “So, what’s on the agenda today Bonbon?”

Bonnie scribbled in her notebook, having already started on her work. “Maths. We have 2 assignments due soon so I figured we should start.”

Marceline nodded and got her stuff out. For a good half hour, the only sounds that came from their table were the scrawls of pens, the clicking of calculators, turning of pages and occasionally, some curse words muttered under Marceline’s breath. Eventually though, the relative silence was broken.

“Hey, what’d you get for 3c?”

“69.3”

Bonnie saw a toothy grin appear on Marceline’s face. She frowned and shot a glare in return. That girl better not do wh –

“Thirst much, Bonnibel?”

She groaned. “Really Marceline? Get your head out of the gutter.”

Marceline shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one writing innuendos as answers.”

“Not my fault the teacher likes putting innuendos as answers”.

Marceline chuckled, then she glanced over to Bonnie’s notebook. “Anyways, how’d you get that number?” She leaned over to get a closer look at Bonnie’s homework, now just close enough for Bonnie to smell what shampoo the other used. It was strawberry. Bonnie took note of Marceline’s face, how her brows scrunched in concentration, how her green eyes always held a beautiful shade of green, how her raven hair cascaded down her face, framing her sharp jawline and how her lips pouted at a formula she obviously didn’t understand. Bonnie wondered if those lips felt soft. Wait, what?

“Earth to Bonnie? You there? Hello?” Marceline waved her hand in front of her face.

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said what’s the deal with this guy? -She gestured to some convoluted looking math term- How did it get to this?”

“Oh, well..” Bonnie went on to explain how she derived the expression, going through it step by step as she usually did, pushing away any strange thoughts of the girl next to her. They were just a fluke after all. Nothing more than spontaneous curiosity.

__________________________________________________________

It happened again a couple of days later. Marceline was casually humming along to a punk rock song in her car with Bonnie seated next to her, quietly scrolling through her phone. The song was crass, mocking, harsh even, filled with edginess that stereotyped the genre. But somehow when the same song came from Marceline’s vocal cords, hummed in a low tone, it sounded so much more…beautiful. Smooth. Gentle. It felt like a cloud was encompassing her, warm and welcoming.

Bonnie felt her insides turn to jello. Strange how she never noticed Marceline's voice having this effect.

She frowned. Something was up. Lightning never struck twice in the same place after all.

“You got your thinking face on Bonnie. What’s up?”

“Oh. Nothing, I was just zoning out”

Marceline smirked, “Lemme guess, thinking of another experiment? Or wait, OH. Trying to answer one of the greatest mysteries of life.”

Bonnie glanced at her lap. Her hands were fiddling with loose jean threads. “You could say that.”

__________________________________________________________

The rest of the week, and the next, followed the same pattern. Bonnie and Marceline would hang out and Marceline would do something utterly mundane and Bonnie would find herself getting the squirmies. Her insides would twist and turn in all sorts of funny ways and she would find her cheeks embarrassingly warm.

She found herself lying down on her own bed, gazing at the ceiling with a half bolster clutched in her arms and contemplating the confusing experiences of the previous weeks. This was the 5th night in a row she had done this.

She has had both male and female suitors confessing to her before, though none of them were as close to her as Marceline was. However, she never gave them more than a second’s worth of thought as she preferred to utilize her brain’s resources on more important things. Chiefly; her schoolwork, independent science projects and her student council duties.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Could she…like Marceline?

She frowned; brows scrunched and lips upturned in confusion.

She had never experienced a crush on a girl before. What she had told Marceline was nothing but honest, she genuinely had never seen the other girl in a light that wasn’t platonic. Marceline was indeed only a dear friend to her. Nothing had changed between them, so why did her insides turn to mush when Marceline did something as mundane as laugh at her own joke or open a door for her. It didn’t make any sense.

Bonnie’s clock read 02:14am and she figured she should get some sleep before school. With heavy lidded eyes, Bonnie concluded that she should do what she always did when she was uncertain about things.

__________________________________________________________

Bonnie found her in the music room, as usual. She was alone. Good. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and gripped her bag strap tightly. She didn’t know why she was the one who felt terrified, after all she was the one planning on basically cornering Marceline with a potentially awkward situation. She took a deep breath and entered the room.

Marceline turned to her, ceasing the strum of her bass. She flashed a warm smile. “Hey Bon, what’s up?”

“Marceline, do you want to go on a date?” At the sight of Marceline’s confused face, she added “With me. Romantically.”

Marceline raised her brows, even more confused than before. “Dude, I thought you weren’t into me that way? You said so like 2 weeks ago.”

She was right. Bonnie only hoped that her persuasion skills were good enough. “While it is true that I've never seen you in that way before, I don’t think it’d be a bad idea to try?” She paused, not really sure how to phrase it less awkwardly. “So, let’s go on a romantic date and see how that goes.”

Marceline looked downright offended by that offer. Was there some homosexual etiquette Bonnie was missing out on?

“I don’t need a pity date.”

Oh. OH. Oh god was that it how it sounded like? Bonnie knew she had to rectify the situation and soon.

“No no. It’s not that. It’s…“ Bonnie broke eye contact with Marceline, instead favoring the ground. She wasn’t sure why she felt so flustered, maybe it was because admitting the truth was embarrassing. “I’ve been thinking about us. How I feel about you, ever since that day you confessed.” Bonnie started fiddling with her hands.

Marceline tensed. She didn’t know where this was going, but she was paranoid and listened to every echoing thought in her head that said this was going to end up bad. Crap. She thought she was out of the woods after that day in the café.

”and I know I said that I hadn’t felt anything but platonic towards you before, and that’s true. But now I’m not so sure.”

Marceline furrowed her brows. What did she just say, was she implying that – “I…I might like you romantically. Or not. I don’t know. I was hoping that going on a date would help me figure things out. Its more for me really.”

Marceline blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Bonnie had…mixed feelings for her? No, rather Bonnie wasn’t sure how she felt. Marceline released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding until now. It wasn’t an ideal outcome, but it was certainly not the worst that could have come from her confession to the redhead.

Taking Marceline’s prolonged silence as a no, Bonnie continued. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to even suggest that considering everything you’ve been through. Just forge-“

Marceline raised her hand to stop her babbling. “I get it. Figuring out your sexuality is hard and you’re not exactly swimming in gay friends. I'm down for it. But you have to promise me this.” She looked straight into Bonnie’s eyes, holding down probably the most serious stare she could muster. “The moment you figure out your feelings for me, you have to tell me. Even if it hurts me. Its just-I just need to know as soon as possible.” Her voice wavered. “Please.”

Bonnie nodded, understanding the gravity of this.

Marceline let out a huge breath, visibly relaxing. She smiled.

“Alright. You free Friday night?”

Bonnie smiled back at her. “Yeah, pick me up at 7?”

Chapter 3: Consolidation

Bonnie didn’t think she would be one of those girls. The ones that would empty their entire closet and prance around their clothing littered room wondering why nothing there was good enough for their date. But here she was doing exactly just that.

It was just Marceline after all. They’ve hung out a billion times before.

Except it wasn’t just Marceline was it?

Bonnie groaned; this was infuriating. She dug through another pile of clothes on her bed, burying herself in thoughts of what to wear instead of trying to unpack the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

In the end, she settled for a white sundress. Well, “settle” was a stretch considering she was going to change again if she hadn’t been interrupted by a ring from the front door. She rushed out of her bedroom, hurriedly making her way down wooden stairs with a tap-tap from her feet.

“Is that Marceline?” Her mother called out from a distant room. Knowing her it was probably the living room. Bonnie did get her love of sappy cable TV rom-coms from her after all.

“Yeah, I got it! I’ll be back by midnight.” Bonnie replied. “Alright, text me if your plans change.” After a brief moment of silence, she added, “Oh, and keep yourselves out of trouble okay! I do not want to hear a peep about either of you from the cops again!”

Bonnie giggled, reminiscing that exact event from 6 months ago.

“Oh. Wow.” Bonnie’s gaze was fixated on the sunset, a bleary mix of reds, oranges and yellows fading into dark blues that casted a looming shadow, outlining the town center. Bonnie and Marceline were on top of a ruined four story building without a roof which was nestled on top of a steep hill, giving them a brilliant vantage point that overlooked the entire t-

“Right.” Marceline flashed a cocky smirk. “Told you this place had the best view.” And she wasn’t wrong.

Bonnie scoffed. “Well sorry I thought otherwise when you dragged me through a forest, a chain link fence and an abandoned construction site.”

Marceline snorted. “What did you think I was gonna do?”

“Kill me and the hide the body?”

“Pfft, if I did that, whose homework would I copy of off?”

“Uh,” She tapped her chin, actually giving the question some thought. “Finn’s?”

Marceline looked at her with bewilderment, one eyebrow quirked above the other. “Dude, you know the whole point of copying off someone else is to pass, not fail.” Bonnie huffed, “Okay, fair point. But – "

“Hey, what are you two doing here?! Get down now!”

They snapped their heads to the source of the yelling. Down on the ground floor stood a middle-aged security guard, practically steaming with red-hot fury. Both girls looked at each other, conveying some unsaid message to each other, seemingly in agreement.

Then they ran.

After hopping through several cinder blocks and steel beams sprinkled with a few swears and complaints about thinking the place was abandoned, they got to a chain-linked fence. Knowing that they were pressed for time with the security guard hot on their tail, they opted to try to squeeze through a tiny gap on the bottom of the fence instead of climbing over it as they did before.

Bonnie crawled through just fine, merely getting some scuffs and dirt marks on her pullover. Marceline on the other hand got stuck, her “fashionable” ripped tank top getting caught on stray fence wiring. Both girls rushed to untangle Marceline, but with the stomp-stomp of booted footsteps coming ever closer to them, Marceline pulled Bonnie’s hands away from herself.

“Bon. I’m fine, just.. go ahead without me”

“But- “ Marceline pushed her away, stopping any argument Bonnie would give out.

“Go! I’ll text you when I’m home.” Bonnie stared at her for a moment in concern. Her eyes darted back and forth between her friend and the direction of the encroaching footsteps. Then she blurted,

“Shut the fuck up” and scrambled to get her friend out.

They both got caught.

After a phone call, a drive and long drawn-out conversation between Bonnie's mom and the police, both girls found themselves on the receiving end of a stern mother's gaze whilst seated on Bonnie's couch.

"Explain."

Before Bonnie could get a word out, Marceline started. "It was my idea Mrs. Butler, I dragged Bonnie to the construction site up at the hill near the end of town. I wanted to show her the sunset from up there.”

"The abandoned one?"

Marceline gave a sheepish smile "Well it turns out it wasn’t so abandoned after all".

Mrs. Butler wasn’t so amused. “Uh-huh.” She glanced at Bonnie, who was squirming in her seat from nervousness. "Bonnie, I know it wasn’t your plan but you still tagged along. You’re grounded for a week. That also means no access to the garage lab."

Bonnie groaned but didn’t feel the need to protest that decision. It was fairly light considering they did get the police involved.

Her mom turned to Marceline. "And Marceline. It’s late so you can stay over, but in the morning, I am going to have a talk with your father, got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

“Good, now I’m going to head to bed, it's late. Bonnie, be a dear and help set up the couch for Marceline” With that, Mrs. Butler went to her bedroom. Bonnie and Marceline started setting up the couch in silence, bringing out blankets and extra pillows from a nearby closet. Marceline wondered if this would be a good time to say what was on her mind, but was interrupted by Bonnie asking her to grab the duvet. When she dragged the duvet to the couch, Bonnie noticed her stumble a little. And then again. She was limping.

“Marceline, your leg!”

“Huh?” Marceline glanced down, seeing a small trail of blood running from her knees. Her very battered and cut knees. “Oh shit”

Bonnie immediately pushed Marceline to sit down on the couch, then ran off into the kitchen muttering something about alcohol. She then came back with a small first aid kit and began treating Marceline’s wounds. Marceline figured this was as good of a time as any.

“Sorry I got you in trouble. I didn’t know there was security there, I checked out the whole place and didn’t even see any keep out signs.” She fiddled nervously with the duvet below her.

Bonnie flashed a warm smile. “It’s fine, just…” She glanced down at Marceline’s knee and frowned, then looked up and made eye contact with her. “Be more careful next time?”

Marceline gave a reassuring smile.

“I will.”

Ding-ding-ding-ding! God, Marceline was one hell of an impatient girl. Bonnie rushed to open the door, silently cursing herself for zoning out for so long.

Marceline was clad in a red-black plaid flannel paired with a dark grey top and ripped black jeans. 'Classic Marceline,' thought Bonnie. Though in the raven-haired girl’s words it would’ve been classic gay, whatever that meant.

Marceline started, “Hey.” She flashed a gentle, earnest smile. She can do this. She’s good at playing cool. She’s the coolest person in school. Totally cool. Absolutely not having a heart attack right now.

“Hey.”

“You look great tonight.”

Bonnie smiled, soft and sweet. “Thanks, you look nice too.” She gestured to the other.

Marceline snorted. “Pfft, this is my normal outfit, what are you talking about?”

She smirked. Oh, it was all too easy to tease Marceline. “Maybe I think you look nice normally.”

Marceline spluttered into some incoherent murmurs. Her cheeks flushed crimson red and she scrambled to look at anywhere except Bonnie. Bonnie found it amusing.

She noticed that the raven-haired girl had her hands tucked behind her back, as if hiding an object from her view. Before she could ask though, Marceline beat her to it, having recovered from her gay panic.

“I, uhh, got you flowers.” She presented a bouquet of soft pink and white roses.

"Flowers?"

Marceline averted her gaze, instead staring at the small scuff marks on her shoes."Yeah. Figured I'd, uhmm....give you the full date experience." But the flustered cheeks and wavering voice said there was more to it than that.

Bonnie felt a heavy pang strike through her chest. She didn’t say anything about it though, figuring that it was a little too late to back out now. "Thanks."

She took the flowers into the kitchen and quickly deposited them into an empty vase. Then she rushed back out and hopped into Marceline’s car and they drove off. She turned to Marceline. “So, where are we going?”

Marceline smirked. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“At least tell me if it's legal. I promised my mom I wouldn’t get in trouble with the cops tonight.” She crossed her arms and pouted. Marceline thought it was adorable and wondered if she should comment. She didn’t.

Instead, she let out a cackle. “Nah it's totally legal. Don’t worry about it.”

They continued the drive in relatively peaceful silence, with only the radio to fill in the space. Bonnie’s gaze fell to her lap, where she fiddled with the hem of her dress. This was it. She was going on a date. With her best friend. Marceline was her date. Huh. Sounds weird.

Chapter 4: Conclusion

Bonnie glanced at the building, eyes widening at the familiar sight of the local science museum. "I thought you didn’t like science?"

Marceline shrugged, "I don’t. But I'm down for learning about the things you like.” She flashed a gentle smile and Bonnie's insides went into a tumbling frenzy of butterflies and thrumming heartbeats. “Now c’mon, this place closes at 9!"

Before her insides could murder her further, she found herself being dragged to the building, hands intertwined and all. Bonnie couldn’t bring herself to complain.

They grabbed their tickets from the ticketing booth and then trailed through the museum, weaving through various exhibits from electrochemistry to evolution to tectonic plates. They stopped by an anatomy exhibit; Bonnie having decided that the musculoskeletal system was an absolute must-see.

“Oooooh, the knee joint!”

Marceline quirked her brows, “What makes this one so special?”

"Well, it is the largest joint in our body, and y’know, THE joint that enables us to walk.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it like, weak? I always hear about people having busted knees or something.”

“That is true. That’s mostly because it does endure a lot of force when we’re using it, about one and a half times our body weight when walking and eight times when squatting.” Bonnie paused for a moment. ”Oh! And it’s also susceptible to numerous pathological conditions like arthritis”

Marceline hummed absentmindedly, then said, “Heh, y’know, you’re just like osteoarthritis” -she turned to her and flashed a toothy grin-” ’Cause you make my knees weak.”

Bonnie stared at her as if she grew another head. A pause ensued, just as awkward and confused as Bonnie’s expression. It went on for a bit, what with Marceline having no clue how to handle it and Bonnie trying to piece together what in the world just happened. She eventually broke the silence with a snort and a smile.

"Well," She moved closer to the other, interlinking their arms together. "You’re like a cation because you’re positively attractive.”

Marceline doubled down, practically filling the museum with cackles. Her cheeks were tinted red, though whether that was from being flustered or from the strain of laughter Bonnie couldn’t tell.

“Omg Bonnie that’s…” She took a breath in an attempt to get her chuckles to die down. ”That’s so you.” Another fit of laughter hit her.

Bonnie floundered, muttering a brief string of indecipherable words and turning away from Marceline in a vain attempt to hide her beet-red face.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. I didn’t say it was bad. It's….” Marceline rubbed her neck, eyes purposely averting Bonnie’s gaze. “It’s actually really cute.” She flashed a tentative smile. Her cheeks mirrored Bonnie’s.

Bonnie pouted, “Geez, you really can’t take a compliment, can you?”

“Welp, sorry, my parents are as emotionally constipated as I am.”

Bonnie chuckled, then tugged the other along to another exhibit.

They wandered through the exhibits one by one, with Bonnie rambling on about the four ventricles of the heart and some Newtonian mechanics and Marceline occasionally quipping in with a flirt or a joke (usually a pun).

“You wanna go watch a movie? I heard they’re premiering the remake of the Thing at the old theatre downtown” Marceline asked. They had finished a full round at the Museum, just in the nick of time as an announcement declared that the museum was closing. Now they were making their way to the carpark.

Bonnie was a little surprised that Marceline would have heard of the Thing. She didn’t seem like someone who would keep up with Sci-fi remakes, then again, the Thing was also a horror, that could explain it.

Bonnie shrugged. “Sure, sounds good.” She glanced down at their still intertwined hands. It was all still surreal to her. She really was on a date. With Marceline.

“Bon? You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just…uhh, zoning out. Yep. Heh.” She really, really wished she was better at lying. Marceline raised her brows but didn’t comment any further, to Bonnie’s relief.

__________________________________________________________

They wound up seated in a small theatre, with Marceline sipping on her soda and Bonnie occasionally munching on popcorn. Bonnie glanced at Marceline, wondering if she should be doing something at this moment. Their arms were still interlinked, still a fairly platonic gesture. She wondered if she should push it, cross the platonic boundary a little bit more. After all Marceline clearly had with her incessant flirting. She supposed she should reciprocate by initiating something too.

And so, cautiously, Bonnie leaned in, slowly placing her head on the crook of Marceline's shoulder. Marceline tensed for a moment, and for that moment Bonnie wondered if she should retreat. But then Marceline relaxed and leaned in.

Cuddling wasn't something the girls ever did together in their friendship. Physical affection, whilst there with casual hand-holding, a hug here and there and such, was always kept at a respectable distance. This was new and if the butterflies in Bonnie’s stomach were anything to go by, it was a good kind of new.

Maybe dating wasn’t so weird after all.

__________________________________________________________

Marceline brought Bonnie to her doorstep in silence. Not the comfortable kind that they often shared. No, this was tense, heavy, as though there was a huge anvil weighing them down. Both of them clearly knew why, it was the end of their date after all. Neither of them really wanted to start, but, feeling obligated because this was her idea, Bonnie did.

"As cliche as it sounds, I really had a good time tonight." After a short pause, she added, "I'd like to do it again sometime."

Marceline’s brows shot up into her hairline. "Wait does this mean -"

“Ehp!” She croaked. Despite knowing what Marceline's reaction would be, Bonnie still found a lump rising in her throat. She took a breath and tried again.

“Yeah.” Bonnie smiled tentatively.

Marceline’s face went through various stages of metamorphosis, from confusion to disbelief to being completely flustered red. It finally settled on a dumbfounded smile with rose-tinted cheeks.

“That’s, wow.”

Bonnie giggled and crossed her arms. She just couldn’t resist the opportunity presented. “Really? You got your crush to like you back and all you can say is ‘wow’. Real smooth Marceline.”

“Sh-shut up!”

Bonnie could practically hear the pout from her. She snickered and Marceline desperately scrambled for a change in topic. She found one and smirked.

"Does this mean I can kiss you? Coz you were so obvious with the staring just now"

Bonnie scoffed. “We both know I wasn’t staring, nice try though. As for the other thing,” She averted her gaze and gave a non-committal shrug. “Maybe on the second date, or the third”

Marceline grinned. “Ooooh, there’s gonna be a third date now?”

“Only if you behave.” She deadpanned.

Marceline cackled, her voice echoing throughout the silent neighborhood. Soon enough, Bonnie couldn’t help but join and now in between the quiet of suburbia were the giggles of two girls.

They kissed on the second date.

#bubbline #bubbline fanfiction #bubbline fanfic #adventure time #adventure time fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #princess bubblegum #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #atimers #at #at fanfic #at fanfiction

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timelordthirteen · 3 years

Text

In All Things 26/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: An invitation, a decision, and touch of regret.

Notes: Oh my gosh this got so long and there’s so much dialogue and uuuugghhh. Sorry. It was necessary I guess. Also idiots got all cute with each other and *hands*

[AO3]

Gold stared at the crown in the center of the wax seal, his thumb running back and forth over the thick, raised edge.

He knew what it was, particularly given the extra embellishment on the outside of the paper, and any other year it would have swiftly been tossed into the fireplace and forgotten, but this year he found himself in a different situation. The seal cracked easily, a few bits crumbling to the desk as he unfolded the letter. Inside was a card made of a heavier parchment and embossed in one corner with the sigil of the royal family. Across the card, in an elaborate calligraphy style writing, were the words... Lord & Lady Gold

He sat back in his chair, momentarily startled by the titles written together, much as the near daily realization that he was married did. Setting the card aside, he scanned the letter, noting the usual pleasantries and flowery phrasing. It was the expected invitation to the royal court’s New Year’s ball, an extravagant one night event, surrounded by some of the most tedious and disingenuous people he’d ever met. Still, Lady Ella would be there, and he supposed there would be other acquaintances of Belle’s that she might like to see. But a solstice celebration at Thornhill was a far cry from the royal court. Accepting the invitation would mean being seen in the most public way possible, at one of the largest events in the kingdom.

Then there was the small matter of the dance.

He rubbed at his leg idly, remembering the tight ache from a few days ago. The dance he’d shared with Belle had taken up residence in a corner of his mind, rather persistently. It kept coming to the forefront in the late hours, and he couldn’t sort out how he felt about it to put it to rest. There was a moment at the end, after he’d spun her around one last time, delighting in her bright smile, where they had been very close, and he could admit that for that brief instant he’d been almost spellbound. The thought of kissing her sprang to mind, shocking him, and had then been swiftly dismissed.

It was absurd for him to even consider. A beautiful woman in close proximity would naturally raise such ideas, if one's guard was let down, and he was only human. But that was simply not the way things were with Belle. Their marriage was becoming a strong, capable partnership, one where they were working together for the prosperity of two estates and all those who depended upon them. Romance, lust, too much wine, whatever that brief instant had been had no place in that plan. Never mind that Belle would likely be aghast at what he’d been thinking. She trusted him, and he couldn’t risk doing anything to disrupt that, certainly not something so silly and fleeting.

“What’s wrong?” came Jefferson’s voice.

Gold sighed and set the invitation down on the far side of the desk before looking up at his friend. “That.”

Jefferson frowned and picked up the page, his eyes jumping back and forth, getting wider as he skimmed it. “Well...”

“Hmm.” He sat back in his chair and motioned for Jefferson to sit. “That was my thought, or lack thereof, exactly.”

“Are you going to accept?”

Jefferson handed the invitation back, and Gold folded it closed. “I have not decided, but I should probably speak with Belle before I do. The palace may have become a dangerous place for us now that we’ve disrupted George’s plan to take Avonlea.”

Jefferson smirked. “Yes, I think your wife’s opinion on the matter would be interesting.”

He gave Jefferson a flat look and shook his head. “She likely wouldn’t want to go, and I can’t say I blame her.”

“Nor I,” Jefferson agreed. “There’s also the small matter of politics when one is at court. It’s a game I don’t imagine Belle would want to play.”

“Very true.” Then Gold sighed. “So, to what do I owe this visit from you in the middle of the afternoon?”

Jefferson suddenly looked deadly serious and sat forward in his chair. His voice was low as he spoke, as though he was afraid of being overheard. “On the heels of your little coup at Avonlea, I’m told that the King is attempting to subvert your victory by getting the council to take it away again.”

He made a face and then frowned. “Is it reliable?”

Jefferson nodded. “I believe so. Everything else I’ve received from this source has been, and they are very well placed with the royal court.”

Gold leaned his elbows on the desk as his eyes fixed on the invitation card for the New Year’s ball. “Belle will be the named heir to Avonlea now. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“But the King does not know that yet,” Jefferson said. “As far as he understands, the estate is yours by rights. Maurice signed it over, those were the papers were sent to the palace.”

He met Jefferson’s gaze and huffed. “That may be true, but the council would have to believe that it was done under some sort of false pretense, that Maurice was coerced or otherwise not in his right mind.”

Jefferson’s look was pointed. “Do you really believe it will be that hard for the King to convince them to agree with his proposal? Enough of them dislike you sufficiently to believe you are capable of willful deceit as it pertains to Maurice and Avonlea, whether or not it’s actually true.”

Gold scowled and made a begrudged, grumbling reply. He knew Jefferson was right. A number of the other nobles thought little of him, whether because of his past, or because of how he had helped George ascend to the throne. They were forced to treat him as an equal, though they clearly despised it, which he always used as a source of amusement. That the same derision with which they regarded him was now directed at Belle pained him, and further reinforced that he was nothing but a bastard for trapping her in a marriage.

“You’re right,” he said finally, nodding to Jefferson and sighing. “He would need Belle to support his petition to the council, and to support the claim that Maurice was forced to give up his land.”

“He probably believes she would if he promises to give Avonlea over to her heir.”

The words nearly startled Gold. Of course the King would make that sort of stipulation, it was the only way to ensure the misery of everyone involved, and the result that he desired which was Avonlea under royal control. Gold abruptly pushed to his feet, his fist thumping hard on the desk before he turned and stalked to the window. The cool draft off the glass was a welcome sensation on his face, and he knew it must be furiously red as dhis heart rate increased along with his anger. There would be no heir, and Belle would be forced to watch her home be given to whatever lord or lady prostrated themselves the most.

Jefferson came to stand beside him, his hands folded behind his back. “What do you want to do?”

“What I want to do, and what I should do, are very different things,” he said.

Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as he tried to calm himself. What he wanted to do was take George Spencer’s legs right out from under him with his cane, crown or no crown.

“Maybe...” Jefferson began, glancing sideways at Gold as he hesitated. “Maybe you should go to the ball.”

“What?” he snapped, turning to Jefferson. “You just agreed with me that it was a terrible idea to subject Belle to that viper’s pit, and now you’re suggesting I do exactly that?”

Jefferson smiled slightly. “Yes, I am, but what if - “

“Jefferson...”

“- what if...” he continued, ignoring Gold’s interruption, “you and Belle attended, and presented a very... united front? One that would imply the King would not have Belle’s approval for his proposal to the council.”

Gold looked out of the window at the snow heaped up over one of the planters as he pondered what Jefferson was suggesting. If the King got the impression that he and Belle were truly partners, that they were of one mind when it came to Avonlea, then it might be enough to thwart the entire effort for good. Without Belle to reinforce the assertion that Maurice was coerced into signing over his estate, the council could dislike him all they wanted, it would mean nothing.

“It could work,” he said finally. “Though it’s not without risk.”

“You would need to appear as aligned and together as possible,” Jefferson warned. “You know what the palace is like. Many eyes will be on you, both those you can see and those you can’t.”

Gold nodded. They would have to share meals, dances, everything including a room, the same as all the other couples. Everyone would be wondering about Belle, wanting to see how Lady Gold carried herself, and how they behaved together. It would be uncomfortable at best, and at worst she might return to Thornhill hating him. But Belle was strong willed and smart, and he believed she could do it, if she was willing.

Jefferson leaned to the side, bumping his shoulder against Gold’s. “You know it isn’t you I’m worried about, right?”

Gold glanced sideways at him. “I know. I will speak with Belle before dinner, let her decide how we proceed.”

Jefferson nodded, and left the room, leaving Gold alone to contemplate how to break the situation to his wife.

Belle sat tucked into the corner of the sofa in front of the fireplace of her library, several letters spread out on the cushion beside her.

Gold stopped in the half open doorway and knocked gently, a smile playing at his lips as he watched her. “May I come in?”

She looked up and grinned. “Of course. Come sit with me.”

“Heard from Desmond again?”

“Yes,” she sighed as she hurried to pick up and stack the papers she’d laid out.. “He wrote two days ago.”

Gold frowned and sat at the other end of the sofa. “Two days? Why did it take so long to arrive?”

Belle set the letters on the side table and then gave Gold a flat smile. “Apparently the road from Longbourne is nearly impassable with snow and ice.”

He made a face and shook his head. “Should have guessed. We’ve gotten quite a bit more since the solstice.”

“Apparently his son, Liam, took a hunting party out on Sunday, hoping for a deer or two,” she said, giving him a wry look. “But he lost his footing, slid down the side of the gulley, and nearly ended up in the river.”

“Good heavens,” Gold said with a light snort. “I presume he’s well?”

“He has a very hard head, he’ll be just fine.”

They laughed and then she added, “Unfortunately, they were only able to get two pheasants and a rabbit, and so the issues continue with supplies at Avonlea. It seems they can’t manage to find any good fortune of late.”

“Indeed,” he muttered. He let his gaze drift to the fire for a long moment as he pondered whether or not the news he brought and the question that came with it would help or hinder the situation.

Belle tilted her head and leaned forward, trying to catch Gold’s eye. He seemed preoccupied with something, and she hoped that he would tell her about it, whatever it was. “Cameron? Did you come find me because you couldn’t bear to wait until dinner to see me, or did you have something to ask?”

At the sound of his name he startled and then sighed. “Sorry. Yes, I have something to ask you, and no I could not bear to let it wait until dinner.”

She laughed again and shook her head, but then noticed he wasn’t smiling. “You seem...out of sorts? Are you well?”

Gold reached over and took her hand, giving it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine, I promise, but we have something to discuss that I thought was best kept between us.”

At that her expression turned serious, and she shifted closer, holding his hand with both of hers and resting their joined hands in her skirts. “What is it?”

“I’ve, uh, I’ve received an invitation,” he said, “from the King.”

Her body stiffened, and she knew he felt the change from the way he looked at her, the lines at his mouth betraying his concern. “I see.”

“It’s for the New Year’s ball, and in normal course I would politely decline, but given the circumstances I thought it might to our advantage to accept.”

Belle bit her lip and frowned as her thumb passed back and forth idly over his knuckles. “How so?’

“Jefferson received a letter this morning, from one of his sources in the palace,” Gold explained, lowering his voice as a precaution.

Even talking about their potential ruse within his own house made him uneasy. If Jefferson had spies within the palace, who was to say that the King hadn’t done the same in return? All of the staff, save Astrid, had been there for years, and were well vetted beforehand, but now that the thought was in his head, he couldn’t ignore the possibility.

“It seems,” he continued, watching Belle’s face as he spoke, “the King may be continuing his attempts to take over Avonlea. Word is that he is going to petition the Royal Council to grant him temporary control, on the assertion that your father was coerced into signing the contract with me.”

She blinked and her fingers stilled. “What?”

Gold swallowed and put his other hand over hers. “The King would need your support to have a chance of succeeding, which right now he believes he would have if he promised to turn over Avonlea to you, or your heir. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but there are enough on the council who dislike me, that they would happily go along with it, whether they believed your father was being taken advantage of or not.”

Belle blinked, her mind only registering that the torment which she had thought they’d laid to rest was back, full force. Immediately, she sprang to her feet, anger propelling her from her seat with her fists clenched at her sides. She could feel a heat creep up her neck and a fierce pounding in her chest that made her stalk towards the windows for relief. The cool air drifted over her skin, and though it did little to assuage her ire, it did make her feel a touch better. She breathed in and out and closed her eyes, until she felt a presence at her side.

“Belle?” came Gold’s soft voice.

“I’m fine.”

His hand touched the middle of her back with a gentle pressure. “No, you’re not not.”

She gave him a tired glance. “Sorry, I’m - I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

She shook her head as her throat tightened. Many times she wished to be alone when she was like this, but right now she felt in great need of his company. “No, no, please don’t. I - I just need a moment.”

He waited patiently for her to collect herself, his hand began to move up and down, a soothing sensation against her back. Finally, she blew out a breath and turned towards him, standing no more than the length of their shoes apart.

“I’m sorry.”

Gold winced and caught her chin when she looked down, drawing her gaze back up. “None of that now.”

Belle closed her eyes. Her head felt heavy, and there was a disconcerting tension in her temples that felt like a belt cinched too tight. She knew it was her nerves getting the better of her, but that didn’t mean she could stop them from doing so. Cameron was calm and solid as he stood in front of her, as though nothing could move him from this spot except her word, and she gave in and let herself fall against him. Her forehead rested on the soft linen of his shirt as her fingertips brushed the paisley patterned stitching of his waistcoat. His arms came up around her, hands near her shoulders, holding her without crushing her to him, and after a long moment, she exhaled.

“Is there ever going to be an end to this?”

The words were muffled, but he could hear them clear enough and sighed. He wanted to tell her that it would, more than anything, that he would do whatever it took to achieve that peace for her, and, abruptly, he became aware that he would if she asked it of him. There were things he knew, things he could do that would upend the entire kingdom, and if that was what was needed, if this latest plan did not set the matter to rest for good, he would do it. Yet, he knew Belle would never ask for such a thing, not if she knew the chaos that would result. She was too good, and would see her own happiness lost before letting it come to that. It made his chest ache to

“I can’t answer that for certain, but I think if we were to attend the ball, we might be able to put it to rest, yes.”

She sniffed and looked up, surprised to see his face merely a breath from hers. His eyes were warm, his expression comforting, and the simple presence of his arms bolstered her. If they faced the King and the royal court together, it would send an unmistakable message. She could do this; they could do this. Suddenly, she was very glad she had married Cameron Gold, and her lips curved in spite of all her anxiety.

“Then we should go.”

His eyebrow quirked. “You don’t want to hear my reasoning?”

She nodded and stepped back, the chill of the window making her immediately miss the warmth of being near him. “I do, but I also trust you. I imagine that if we go, and make every effort to present ourselves as being truly united, then the King would know that no matter what he offered me, I would never agree to it.”

Gold’s mouth curved slowly as she spoke, marveling silently at how she had arrived at the same idea as Jefferson.

“What?” she asked as soon as she noticed him smiling.

He shook his head slowly. “You are brilliant, do you know that?”

She made a face and then let out a short laugh. “Well, I do try.”

“You know it won’t be easy,” he warned. “There will be all sorts of people there, friend and foe. The whispers and rumors, the politics...”

“I know.” She blew out a breath and nodded again, feeling strangely calm now that she had let herself think about things rather than just being angry and upset. “I’m not afraid of them.”

“Even Milton and Sir Gaston?”

Belle reached out and took hold of his hands. The mention of their names set her nerves on edge, but she could tell that it had less of an effect than even a week or two ago. She owed some of that to Cameron, and trusted that if he was by her side, then she could weather seeing a few unfriendly faces at a ball.

She lifted their hands out to either side and stepped closer. “I’m not going to let them deter me from having another chance to dance with my husband.”

His lips twitched, and he freed one of his hands to rest it at her back, lifting the other to the side as she came to stand toe to toe with him. They took a few small, circling steps together in the space between the windows and the end of the sofa, less wide and graceful than their previous dance together, but drawing smiles from both of them all the same. Once again, he surprised her with a brief spin, and her soft laugh settled his mind on the matter. They would attend the ball and leave no doubts as to where their alliances lay - with each other, and no one else.

Belle twirled back towards him, coming to rest with her hand on his chest, and immediately pushed up on her toes to press her lips to his cheek. When she dropped back, she was smiling, and he was gratified to see she had recovered from her earlier distress. Her faith in him seemed to be unwavering now, and he hoped that when all this was done it would remain so.

“So, we agree?” he asked, letting her pull away from their impromptu dance.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “We accept, and we put this nonsense to rest once and for all.”

“Then I shall reply immediately.” He gave her a brief bow, pleased at the way she rolled her eyes at him, but still smiled in spite of herself, and left her to finish reading her letters.

It was late, and Gold knew he should follow Jefferson and Belle’s examples and go to bed, but he had told Belle that he would reply to the King’s invitation and he was committed to doing so before the end of the day.

Unfortunately, the day had ended some hours ago, but before dinner there had been a frustrating matter with one of his tenants losing two horses that required a quick, coordinated search party to recover the animals. After dinner, the lure of cards with Belle and Jefferson was far greater than penning a perfunctory letter, but he was finished now and that was what mattered. He scrawled his signature at the bottom, and then scanned the page to ensure it had all of the required fluff and politeness.

He pushed to his feet, waving the paper idly to dry the ink, and crossed to a small table set in the corner between the bookcase and the window, tucked away where few would notice it. On it was an ornately carved box with a lock on the front, and he set the paper down next to it before reaching up to a shelf just over his head. He pulled out a book bound with green dyed leather and held it aside as he felt around on the small space its absence made on the shelf until he found what he was looking for.

The key was old and tarnished to an oily black, as was the lock it fit in, and he held his breath until it clicked open. It was a habit from so many years ago, and even now a faint smile graced his lips as he remembered the sly smile on his aunt’s face every time she pulled the box out from under her bed.

Gold opened the box and set the invitation card to the ball inside, pausing to stare at the small stack of papers inside. He swallowed hard and reached in, his fingertips lifting the card out of the way to reveal a letter, folded closed with the addressee and direction visible. His jaw clenched as he read the name for the hundredth time, penned elegantly above the broken wax seal of the royal house.

Lord Maurice Faure, Avonlea

Shaking his head, he pulled it out and then lifted up the rest of the papers inside the box to slip it back in at the very bottom. The invitation card went back on top, and he closed the lid of the box hard, exhaling heavily as he finally clicked the lock back in place. He quickly replaced the key on the shelf, followed by the book, and walked over to his chair by the fire. He lifted the glass of brandy he’d poured earlier and downed the rest of it one gulp, closing his eyes as it warmed its way down his throat.

He gave the fire a long look, and then his gaze shifted to the locked box across the room, wondering not for the first time if he shouldn’t burn the whole damn thing. Instead, he sighed and replaced the grate over the fireplace before heading off to bed.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #arranged marriage au #my rumbelle fic #fic #in all things

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

“Pardon the way that I stare -- There's nothin' else to compare... The sight of you leaves me weak; There are no words left to speak, But if you feel like I feel, Please let me know that it's real... You're just too good to be true -- Can't take my eyes off of you...”

~“Can’t Take My Eyes Off You (cover),” by Joseph Vincent

x~x~x~x

For my next installment of my “Valentine’s Day” series where I feature each of my kids and some of the people they care about most, I present to you Jackson Knightly with his future love interest Montelimar Bloom @cursebreakerfarrier and Monty’s BFF, Orla Atkinson @hphm-brooke! I think this particular post fits @kathrynalicemc‘s wonderful Valentine’s Ball prompt perfectly, as well, since it takes place at a Valentine’s Day ball and features these babies in formal wear!

In Jackson’s fifth year, he still saw Monty solidly as a friend. That all changed, however, during a Valentine’s Day ball Jackson helped organize with his BFF Adelia “Addy” Selwyn @that-ravenpuff-witch and several other students.

Jackson was greatly looking forward to the event. Not only did he pull out all the stops to make sure the place was decorated beautifully with swan-shaped ice sculptures, marble cherubs, and white roses, but all of his friends -- his “sweet Demiguise,” Hirtia “Tia” Caldwell @cursed-ice-spirits; his “lady Vipertooth,” Orla “Lala” Atkinson; his “brilliant Frenchman,” Montelimar “Monty” Bloom -- would be in attendance. Jackson had ended up inviting a fourth year student from Hufflepuff named Felicity Abbott as his “date” for the event, after finding her sitting in the stands alone after the recent Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sobbing inconsolably into her handkerchief -- it was out of pity more than anything, but Jackson hated seeing the young lady cry all by herself.

Jackson came down the grand staircase toward the Great Hall in a set of gold-trimmed white dress robes and very slender, fitted gold slacks over a pair of black ankle boots, looking like a charming prince out of some Muggle fairy tale. No one had spotted him descending the stairs yet, so he scanned the room -- and what caught his eye first was a tall boy his age with spectacles, dressed in handsome grayish-blue dress robes with tails and a matching vest over a white shirt and slacks. It was Monty, chatting with his best friend Orla -- Monty was visibly flustered, but both of them were smiling. Despite himself, Jackson found himself smiling more softly than most anyone was used to seeing. Bloom had always been so modest, he thought to himself...even with how handsome he clearly was. The thought stuck in Jackson’s head strangely -- certainly, Monty was handsome, few would probably question it, but...well, it wasn’t exactly something men were supposed to think about each other, was it? His father certainly wouldn’t have approved if Jackson had ever verbalized such a sentiment...

Fortunately Jackson was quickly distracted by several members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team coming up to talk to him, and ever the showman, Jackson put on his broadest, most confident smile and went about socializing. He then slowly made his way over to Monty and Orla, his ocean-blue eyes alight with good humor.

“Lala, my precious Vipertooth!”

Jackson took Orla’s hand and used it to twirl her around like a little girl playing princess.

“You look absolutely radiant, my dear,” he fawned over her.

Orla’s lips spread into a cool smirk as she rested her free hand on her hip. “I should hope so, considering you picked this dress out for me.”

“I’d like to think I have good taste, Lala,” said Jackson with a mischievous grin. “The lavender makes your eyes pop just so.”

His eyes trailed over to Monty, lingering briefly on the gold buttons on his lapel before moving up to his face.

“...I must say, Bloom...you’ve really cleaned up most handsomely. Is there a lady here you thought to impress?”

Monty flushed, but put on a modest smile all the same. “Oh no, not at all...I merely thought to try to dress for the occasion, as best I could.”

Once again, Jackson found his expression softening a bit. Even now that Monty was more confident than when they’d first met, the Ravenclaw still sometimes blushed like a shy schoolgirl. It was actually quite endearing.

Monty’s smile grew a bit wryer as he added, “I must thank you for the compliment, Jackson, considering that -- as always -- you have a knack for standing out.”

Jackson grinned. “I certainly try.”

Out the side of his eye, he caught sight of Felicity Abbott, her face bright with a smile and dressed in pink satin, waving at him from the top of the stairs.

“Please excuse me,” he said softly, “I owe the lady at least one dance tonight, as her escort. If you see Addy, tell her I’ll follow up with her shortly -- I’d like to add some twinkling lights to the roses trimming the windows, once it gets darker outside...”

He inclined his head to his friends before moving to greet the younger Hufflepuff.

Jackson had been nothing but a gentleman with Felicity Abbott, as he would’ve been for any other young lady he might offer a dance to. She seemed to be having a good time, and Jackson was grateful for it -- he didn’t know her at all and he quite frankly didn’t think that she’d be anything but an acquaintance for him in the future, but even so, he had a sensitive enough heart to hate the thought of someone not having fun at a party, especially a party celebrating Valentine’s Day. What Jackson had not expected, however, was Gryffindor’s tall, broad-chested seventh-year Quidditch Captain stepping right in front of him and Felicity.

“Torquil Travers,” greeted Jackson.

Travers’s eyes narrowed very coldly upon Jackson’s face. “Care to explain what the hell you think you’re doing, Knightly?”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dancing with my woman,” Travers hissed through bare teeth.

His eyes flashed at Felicity, who trembled visibly.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly under his raised eyebrows.

“Now, Mr. Travers...surely Miss Abbott at least merits being called ‘your lady,’ rather than something so crude?”

He spoke as pleasantly as he could, given the stink eye the Gryffindor was fixing him with, but he did take a subtle step to the side so as to create something of a physical barrier between Travers and Felicity with his body. This only served to make Travers angrier.

“Felicity is my intended,” he spat. “She is my wife in practice, if not yet by law, and therefore mine.”

“A person is hardly something to be treated like an object to possess,” Jackson said in a low voice that betrayed a sharp edge despite the cool calm of his expression. “Nor like a caged animal that follows a man’s direction.”

He glanced at Felicity, whose face had gone very white and scared. He immediately tried to comfort her with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Come, Miss Abbott,” he said, “let us be off -- ”

But before Jackson could steer her away, Travers grabbed the back of Jackson’s robes, roughly pulling him backward and away from the younger girl. Felicity screamed.

“You will not touch her again, you filthy Muggle-bred ponce!” snarled Travers.

Jackson amazingly responded to Travers’s fury with a broad, gleaming white smirk. “‘Filthy?’ Come now, Mr. Travers, surely you could come up with a more targeted insult than that -- these robes are clearly spotless.”

His tiny brown eyes widening with rage, Travers raised a fist --

BAM.

Before his knuckles could collide with Jackson’s jaw, however, Monty had appeared out of nowhere. Dashing forward, he’d forcibly put up an arm and stepped right between Jackson and Travers so that the Slytherin commentator was behind him and Traver’s fist whammed right into his left shoulder instead.

Jackson’s eyes grew very wide. “Bloom...!”

The blow made Monty rock back slightly and clutch his shoulder, visibly winded, but he regained his footing quickly, his eyes narrowing upon Travers’s face.

“That is enough,” Monty said in a very low, firm voice. “Travers...I think it would be best if you take a step back and a deep breath. A physical altercation is hardly a good way to settle such a dispute -- especially when there are teachers present.”

He indicated the Charms and Transfiguration professors, who were striding through the assembling crowd as if to discover the source of their interest.

Travers’s fists were shaking with rage, but he seemed to know he wouldn’t be able to get his way or evade punishment if he persisted. And so, shooting a venomous look at Jackson over Monty’s shoulder, he shoved past the pair and disappeared off into the crowd.

Jackson grabbed onto Monty’s robes from behind, almost cradling his back. His face was unusually pale.

“Bloom -- my -- you’re hurt...”

For once, he seemed to have trouble speaking coherently. His hand came up to the spot on Monty’s chest where Travers’s fist had landed.

Monty flinched ever-so-slightly, but smiled reassuringly at him. “Oh...don’t worry, Jackson. It’ll just be a small bruise, I think -- ”

“It should be dealt with straight away,” Jackson said in a strangely sharp and faintly shaky voice.

He looked at Felicity. “Miss Abbott...I see my dear Addy by the far window with Mr. Ellison. Please, remain in their company until I return: I’ll be back shortly.”

And with that, Jackson had escorted Monty out of the Great Hall and to an abandoned hallway a short ways away from the party. He’d insisted on Monty sitting down on a window ledge and removing his robes and shirt just enough to show his left shoulder, so that Jackson could work on healing the injury before it could darken with a bruise. Jackson hated the Hospital Wing as well as hospitals in general, so he’d gotten very used to treating himself whenever he was hurt.

Monty himself could see how tense Jackson was: tenser than he’d ever seen him previously. It truly hadn’t been that horrible -- certainly it would’ve been far worse if Travers had elected to take out his wand instead -- but Jackson still seemed very upset. And he was: Jackson’s emotions were very turbulent indeed.

Monty had protected him. It wasn’t out-of-character for him at all, really, but he’d never physically protected him quite like that before...allowed himself to get hurt, in order to shield him from harm. Jackson hadn’t really had anyone do something like that for him before. Sure, perhaps Adelia would scold someone’s face off on his behalf or Orla would hex someone into next week for having said something, but those were entertaining. This was decidedly not. This was different. It made Jackson’s heart swell with concern and yet also such pride and warmth and admiration and caring...and yet for as new as the feeling felt, it truly didn’t feel unfamiliar. It felt second-nature...almost...like coming home...

“Jackson?” said Monty gently.

Jackson was brought out of his thoughts, but he didn’t look up from Monty’s shoulder. Instead he finished the Healing spell he was casting and then helped pull Monty’s shirt back on.

“There we are,” he murmured, as he fastened Monty’s buttons. “How does your shoulder feel?”

“Better,” admitted Monty.

He watched Jackson’s face carefully. “Jackson...I’m grateful for the help, but I’m all right, truly...”

He brought a hand onto Jackson’s buttoning his collar, making the smaller man halt.

“You don’t need to worry.”

The two’s eyes met. Although both men’s eyes were blue, it was like a calm freshwater lake meeting a rushing ocean: both beautiful and cool, and yet completely different in attitude. Monty’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but his face was very composed. Jackson’s face was anything but, especially when his own cheeks actually started to redden too.

“I...suppose I have lost my composure somewhat,” he said, his eyes falling back down to his hands on Monty’s shirt almost self-consciously.

He finished buttoning up his collar and then helped him pull his grayish-blue robes back on, trying to plaster on one of his charming smiles.

“...What can I say, I’m...not used to some dashing hero coming to my rescue,” he teased.

Monty smiled. “Well, I couldn’t very well do nothing, seeing you face off against a mountain troll like that, could I?”

Jackson couldn’t bite back a laugh. He looked up at Monty, his ocean-blue eyes and smile alight with more of that strange, unique softness he’d felt -- the sort that, truly, only a precious few ever were the subject of.

“Of course not, my brilliant Frenchman.”

And it was that day that Jackson Knightly’s heart knew what it took a lot longer for him to admit aloud -- he loved Montelimar Bloom with everything that he was.

#ValentinesBallHPHL #my art #jackson knightly #montelimar bloom #orla atkinson #adelia selwyn #my writing #valentine's day #singles awareness day #orla's swan collar GACK I loved designing that #lala isn't the type to show a lot of skin so I had a lot of fun trying to design something modest and pretty for her #she is a lovely fashion template brooke my dear <3 #I see her having been counseling her BFF since monty had heard jackson had a date for the event #and of course poor monty had a crush on jacko long before that stupid charmer ever got a clue #poor jacko was raised by a rather hypermasculine and homophobic father so it takes him a while to be open with his sexuality #even though let's be honest his 'closet' is pretty close to invisible even before he comes out #*pets jackson*#first time writing for monty!#I hope I did your bb justice darling <3

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yiddyahara · 3 years

Text

The Merchant Ace :: Liang Tao

Okay so I made a Genshin Impact oc, the images were made on picrew because I can’t draw but I am commissioning my friend after Christmas for art of him!

——————————————————

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Liang Tao

Age: 23

Height: 5’4 / 162 cm

Birthday: April 21st

Rarity: 4*

Weapon: Bow

Element: Cryo

Focus: DPS

Constellation: Vulpecula

Home Region: Liyue

Afilliation: Qixing

——————————————————

“I doubt that the strongest in the room could escape my arrows. Would you like to try your luck?” - Liang Tao, The Ice Prince of Liyue Harbor

——————————————————

INFORMATION

Liang Tao is a new government official in Liyue, having taken over management of sea trade and ports in the district. He works under Ningguang, and helps to keep the contracts with neighbouring domains firm.

After studying with several merchants for most of his teen years, Tao managed to secure a place amongst many who sought out a place in the higher courts — the Qixing. After much deliberation, the man was inducted into the Qixing and worked as a student under Ningguang.

His childhood was not a happy one, with his parents being murdered when he was just a small baby. However, he was quickly found by a poor fish merchant who happened to be passing by the area, who took the child home and raised him as his own. This was beneficial to the merchant, who’s name was Liang Xue, because his wife could not bear children.

Tao is very loyal to Ningguang and the Qixing, however he will do anything to secure his own personal benefits, even betraying the Qixing if it was the only reasonable solution. However, there is an agreement with Ningguang and Keqing that allows this betrayal, should it ever come to that.

Tao’s personality is very closed off, having shared very little about himself. He demands mutual respect from those he works with, but is kind in his own way to his subordinates and fellow Qixing members. He knows that the work they do is stressful, and understands when things go awry. However, he sometimes does not know when to stop speaking, having offended many with his blunt words.

Having run the fishing ports and sea trade business, Tao has had several run ins with Beidou, who treats him like a little brother. He appreciates this, and often shares a drink when she is in town.

——————————————————

ATTACK LIST

Normal Attack: Stealth Arrow

The arrows are much quieter than other bow users, allowing him to slip the first shot without enemies noticing.

Ice Attack: Charging Ice

A charged shot that takes 25% of the targets health. Can also be used on objects to freeze them in place. Pairs well with hydro attacks for increased damage.

Ice Attack: Flurry

Tao can rapid fire 3 arrows within 10 seconds. These are pre charged shots that do up to 15% enemy damage, higher if weapon level is higher.

Cool down: 20 seconds

Special Attack: Summoner’s Rage

Tao can summon up to 15 ice arrows and sent them directly at a single target from his location. Has a distance limit of 10 ft, meaning he has to be semi close to his target for it to work.

Cool down: 45 seconds

——————————————————

MISSIONS & QUESTS

Story Quests:

The Ice Prince of Liyue Harbour

Ningguang asks you to check in on one of the Qixing, but he is less than willing to cooperate. Can you break through his cold exterior and follow Ningguang’s request?

World Quests:

Those Who Fall Under

Tao asks you to investigate several unknown cargo ships off the coast of Liyue Harbour, worried they might have less than friendly intentions. What are they here for…?

Lost Packages

It seems like Tao’s employees have managed to drop several of his important documents on the way from a meeting in Mondstadt. Do you think you could find them and bring them back for him?

——————————————————

INCORRECT QUOTES

“No, you may NOT use me as your wallet. Do I look like Childe?” - Tao to Zhongli

“If you committed a crime, Felt, I will hang you from the rafters. Unless they were my enemy, then, good job.” - Tao to Felt

“You may be pardoned by the Qixing, but are you pardoned in the eyes of the Archons?”

“For the last time, I do NOT need a step ladder!” - Tao when someone makes fun of his height.

——————————————————

VOICE LINES

Hello...

My name is Liang Tao. Pleased to make your acquaintance, send all complaints direct to the Qixing.

Good morning...

Are you ready for the day to begin?

Good afternoon...

Ah, I think it must be time for afternoon tea with Lady Ningguang.

Good evening...

Care to watch the sunset with me?

Good night...

Don’t get lost on the way home. That would make too much paperwork for me.

Chat - Relax

I wonder if Felt will let me work in peace for a while...

About Tao...

No, the rumours of me being married are not true. Liyue just likes gossip.

About the Vision...

Many have been blessed with a Vision, however many can survive without it. Is it really necessary to put Vision wielders on a pedestal?

Anything to share...

My height is not a problem for me, I manage just fine. Although, Beidou and her crew sometimes mock me.

About Felt...

He is not my child biologically, but having a small vision user turn up at your doorstep at ungodly hours really makes you do crazy things.

About Ningguang...

I respect Lady Ningguang quite a lot, however we don’t always see eye to eye on some things. But I trust her with my life.

About Beidou...

She gets me drunk. We like to have a drink when she turns up at the harbour with her crew. Good company.

About [blank]...

We do not get along. I know you’re supposed to respect the Seven, but the Pyro Archon and I have our fair share of battles... He just likes picking on me because I’m smaller than him, I’m sure.

More about Tao - I

I don’t know my biological parents, but I’m sure they had their reasons for their disappearance. I wonder if they would be proud of me now...?

More about Tao - II

My father was a fish merchant, and my mother was a seamstress. They raised me well, I believe.

More about Tao - III

I often think about adopting a cat. Do you think Felt likes animals?

More about Tao - IV

It’s been a while since my mother passed away. My father and I often visit her grave together. I still have her hairpins, and wear them daily.

More about Tao - V

As a cryo user, I often get extremely cold. Felt likes to throw fur blankets over me when I fall asleep at my desk.

Tao's hobbies...

I personally don’t have many hobbies, but I keep every gift from Felt in a special box.

Favourite food...

My favourite food? Wanmin Restaurant’s Crystal Shrimp is a good snack.

Least favourite food...

Almond Tofu. I don’t understand how that Adeptus can stand the texture.

Birthday...

Oh! How wonderful. Today is a special day, please do accept my gift. Maybe we can find Felt and enjoy a meal together!

——————————————————

Battle and Exploration Lines

Added to Party...

Oh? You need my aid?

Don’t dawdle, I might be needed later.

Where are we headed this time?

Elemental Burst...

Now you’re making me mad..!

Stay still and accept fate!

The cold is biting, isn’t it?

Idle...

I wonder if Felt will let me work in peace for a while... (Chat: Relax)

I should really bring a gift back for my employees...

Maybe I should ask about sailing the ocean, it might be fun.

Knocked Out...

This is not... Over yet...!

So... Cold...

I’m sorry father, I have failed you...

#genshin impact #asteria freaks out over genshin again #asteria’s mountain #asteria’s oc’s #📑: Liang Tao #genshin impact oc #he is a bastard who can math but can’t English

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s Surprise Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Acquaintance Collection: Kiro // Lucien // Victor

The date begins with MC waiting in a coffee shop for Gavin. They planned to meet so Gavin can provide a professional viewpoint regarding bizarre events in Loveland, which MC plans to do an episode on.

Gavin calls and tells her that an accident cropped up. He tells her to wait in the coffee shop and that he would go over once he’s done.

Soon after, two ladies walk in:

Woman A: That group was too much – several people bullying one small boy!

Woman B: There was that tall and handsome boy who looked like he can fight though… he should be able to protect the boy.

MC asks the women for more information and gets increasingly certain that the “tall and handsome boy” is Gavin.

Following their directions, she walks along a secluded path and hears the sound of fighting.

Borrowing the darkness of the light, I hide in a corner and see a familiar profile cross my vision.

MC: It’s really Gavin!?

Under the faint streetlight, Gavin is clothed in black and standing tall, while seven or eight hooligans are on the ground around him.

In a second, he twists to the side, cleanly ducking the opponent’s fist while at the same time violently kicking another two hooligans to the ground.

Gavin raises his hand and rubs his chin. His eyes are sharp and sweeps across the bodies on the ground scornfully.

Gavin: That’s all you’ve got?

Suddenly, a hooligan rushes towards him from behind!

MC: Gavin, be careful!

The words leave my lips instinctively. Even though my voice isn’t loud, it catches Gavin’s attention.

With a nimble twist of his body, the hooligan is subdued.

Gavin straightens up and hides me from the hooligans’ view.

He narrows his eyes, looking at his surroundings.

Gavin: Scram!

After the hooligans flee, Gavin walks to my side.

Gavin: What are you doing here?

MC: I heard two ladies talking about a fight when I was in the café, and I had a feeling that it was related to you. I should be the one asking you this question though. Was that part of a sudden mission?

Gavin: No.

MC: Then what was that fight about?

Gavin looks at me, then turns his eyes to a streetlamp at a corner.

Gavin: I’ll explain it to you later. I have to go somewhere. Come with me.

While he says this, Gavin has already started walking. I immediately follow after him. When I turn, I suddenly see an abrasion on his arm.

MC: Ah, wait…

I point at the injury on Gavin’s arm and purse my lips.

MC: Do you want to deal with your injury first?

Gavin: It’s just a bruise. It’s no big deal.

Before I can repeat my suggestion, Gavin arches his eyebrows.

Gavin: Actually, it was very dangerous just now. If they…

MC: I’ve practiced the self-defense skills you taught me! If you don’t believe me, watch!

I cut him off. While speaking, I try to make myself look more formidable.

MC: Moreover, you’re here with me, right?

I turn to meet his eyes, which have a slightly complicated look in them. After a moment, Gavin lets out a gentle sigh.

Gavin: Never again.

Hearing the worry in his voice, I nod.

Gavin takes MC to a decrepit house.

He lifts his hand, ready to knock at the door. A gust of wind blows up a corner of the curtain, revealing a small, alert face in the window.

Boy: Grandma! Big brother is here!

While shouting excitedly, the boy rushes to open the door. In a moment, he’s in front of Gavin, wearing a look of utter adoration.

Gavin gently rubs the little boy’s head. At this moment, an elderly woman walks out of the house slowly, beckoning us with a big smile.

Elderly lady: Come in and sit!

Gavin tells the elderly lady not to trouble herself, but she says it’s the least she could do Gavin has protected the boy from bullies on multiple occasions.

Boy: It’s been a long time since I had visitors… big brother, sister, can you play with me for a while?

Seeing the anticipation and pleading look of the boy, Gavin lifts his eyes to mine, as though hesitating. I hurry to respond.

MC: Sure!

The boy explains that he got bullied for selling sugar figurines.

The little boy sees Gavin as his role-model and wants Gavin to teach him how to fight. Gavin offers to teach him self-defence.

The elderly woman returns with a few cups.

Elderly woman: I feel bad that your date was interrupted because of us.

MC: Eh? N-no…

I immediately wave my hands in front of me to explain, but the elderly woman just smiles as she observes us. For some reason, my voice gets softer, and my heart begins to race.

Feeling a little shy, I turn my head to the side, and coincidentally see Gavin’s side profile. His hand is rubbing his neck, and his ears are a faint shade of red.

The bruise is still onto Gavin’s arm, but I’m unable to link the Gavin in front of me to the Gavin who was fighting just now.

A gust of night wind enters from the window, rolling up the the ends of the curtain, and also gently rolling across my thoughts.

Gavin meets my eyes, and I purse my lips into a smile.

The elderly woman offers them sugar figurines. MC takes one on Gavin’s behalf.

After leaving the house, Gavin and I walk along a brightly lit street. His side profile is illuminated by the gentle streetlights, and I can’t help but toss him several glances.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: …ah? Nothing!

Gavin looks at me in suspicion. He suddenly thinks of something and stops in his footsteps.

Gavin: I’m sorry, We agreed to meet tonight to help analyse your materials. It’s gotten delayed for such a long time.

Hearing Gavin’s sudden apology, I widen my eyes and wave my hands in front of him.

MC: Don’t worry about it. I feel like what happened today was much more meaningful. If I were in such a situation, I’d definitely be like you. I wouldn’t just stand idly by. Furthermore, it’s the first time I’m seeing Senior like this!

Hearing my voice take on a playful tone in my voice at the end, Gavin turns to look at me, his eyes revealing warmth and a smile.

Gavin: Really? It’s nothing special. If you’re in a hurry, you can leave first. I’ll send you the report once I’m done with it.

Understanding Gavin’s meaning, I smile and shake my head.

MC: It’s still early, so I’m not in a rush to go home. Before we go home, shouldn’t we finish this first?

While saying this, I gently shake the sugar figurine. Gavin’s eyes trail to it.

Gavin: Yes. It’d melt if it isn’t eaten soon.

MC: So you should hurry up and eat it!

I raise the sugar figurine in front of him. Gavin has no idea how to react, widening his eyes slightly as he stands rooted to the spot.

After regaining his senses, Gavin coughs lightly.

Gavin: No, it’s okay. You can eat it.

MC: How can I do that? I already said that I took this on your behalf. This is your payment for teaching those bad guys a lesson today.

At this moment, I see a bench and walk towards it.

MC: Let’s sit here for a while so Officer Gavin has some time to eat the sugar figurine.

Gavin stands under a tree not far off, and behind him are busy, colourful streets. He stares at me, his gaze gentle, and walks over.

With a resigned smile, he takes the sugar figurine from me.

Gavin: All right, I got it.

Before I take a seat, Gavin suddenly stops me.

Gavin: Hold on.

MC: What’s wrong?

Gavin doesn’t respond, lowering his head as though searching for something.

I look at him in confusion. Under the streetlamp, I realise that there is a wet spot on the bench.

I rifle through my bag and pockets, looking up to see Gavin’s embarrassed expression. He coughs lightly.

Gavin: You can sit. I’ll stand.

I turn back to the bench. After a moment of hesitation, I open my mouth.

MC: Let’s just sit together…

Saying this, I sit down, then scoot towards the side, leaving some space.

Looking at Gavin who has not moved an inch, I take a breath in preparation to speak again, not daring to look at him.

MC: …I can move over a little more then?

Gavin: …no need. This is fine.

Gavin sits down beside me. The moonlight shrouds Gavin’s profile in an extraordinary glow.

The leaves rustle, the night wind blows gently, and Gavin’s scent travels along with it. My face starts to heat up.

I raise my head.

Dressed in all black with a bruise on his arm, Gavin looks like he’s struggling to figure out what is the most appropriate way to bite the sugar figurine. This scene tickles me.

Gavin: …is this very strange?

Redness appears on Gavin’s ear.

Gavin: Sugar figurines don’t suit me. Anyway, thank you for agreeing with my actions tonight.

Gavin looks at me quietly, the faint streetlights illuminating his face. His eyes are as bright as the stars, and as tender as the night.

Tonight’s events suddenly replay in my eyes…

The ferocious Gavin during the fight, the gentle and respectful Gavin who interacted with the grandmother and the little boy, and the Gavin who is currently “battling” with the sugar figurine…

MC: I feel that you’re different tonight. Let me think about how to best put it… “Jekyll and Hyde”!

Gavin is stunned for a moment, then he smiles.

Gavin: Perhaps.

MC: Also, even though I understand your actions tonight, I don’t approve of this-

I point to his arm.

MC: No matter what, you have to take care of yourself. Don’t get hurt again.

Gavin: Okay.

The corners of Gavin’s lips turn up slightly.

The stars flicker above us, and the cool evening wind blows towards us from the trees and leaves.

This gentle evening has only just begun.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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takerfoxx · 3 years

Text

Jurassic Park 4: Doki Idol Live Festival!

magic5ball submitted:

Remember how you asked me about my idea for a Jurassic Park sequel? Well, here you go:

The two velociraptors stood outside a pastel colored town house in Hokkaido prefecture, Japan. If any passerbys thought that was weird, they certainly didn’t show it. Probably because the raptors were wearing fedoras and fake mustaches, so they looked like humans. Also they had guns. Very cool, very intimidating mobster guns. A tommy gun and a sawed-off shotgun, respectively.

You needed guns, to survive Shinzo Abe’s little empire of vice and socialized medical care.

“So this is the place, huh?” muttered the velociraptor carrying the sawed-off shotgun. His thick Brooklyn accent hung in the air like concrete. “Kinda… frillier than I was expecting.”

“It better be.” Replied his companion, who sounded like your racist conservative uncle trying to impersonate that one cool guy from ‘The Godfather’ (You know, the one with the mustache who was played by Robert de Niro). “We hadda kill a whole lotta people to get this hellhole.”

Sawed-off shotgun licked his non-existent lizard lips

“But hey. That airplane stewardess tasted mighty fine goin-“

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake, would ya stop thinkin’ with your stomach and help me with this f*ckin’ knob!” cried tommy gun, trying to work the doorknob best he could with his raptor claws, which, in all honesty, wasn’t much, because raptor claws are terrible at operating things meant for human fingers. Little did he know, the door was a ‘pull’, not a ‘push.

At least he didn’t have to wait long before someone unlocked the door from the other side: another velociraptor, this one a bit on the short side. And p!ssed. Very, very p!ssed. You could tell he was the cool one because he wore an eyepatch over one eye. An eyepatch with a Captain Underpants logo on it.

“Didn’t your parent’s ever teach you idiots about using the doorbell?! I was just about to enjoy lunch with my beautiful wife and you-!“

He paused, recognizing the two figures facing him.

“Well, well, well” Said tommy gun, cocking his weapon “If it isn’t SWEET JOHN HAMMOND’S BALLSACK WHAT THE F*CK AM I LOOKING AT?!”

For the cool raptor was dressed in a gothic Lolita maid outfit, complete with a bonnet and penny loafers. Under his arm he carried a human sized pillow depicting what appeared to be a blonde floozy with massive tits.

“Oh this? This is Mami Tomoe, my beautiful wife.”

“WHAT THE F*CK!?!?” Tommy gun pulled out a flask off orange Fanta from his butthole and drank the whole thing in one go. He did NOT have time for this homosexual weeaboo nonsense! Still, he and shotgun hadn’t left a mountain of corpses the exact height and width as Mt. Fuji behind them. Too many to go back to Isla Nublar empty handed. Er, clawed. Because they were dinosaurs. Who have claws.

Shotgun took a deep breath. “What the Boss means to say is, ‘May we take refuge in this fine establishment?’”

Cool raptor opened his mouth to reveal a pistol he’d hidden there. And by hidden I mean replaced his tongue with it.

“You know, for all crap you guys used to give me in the past, I oughta pump you full of lead right here and now. Buuutttt… the lady of the house is present, and I’m not in the mood to create more work on her end. So come on in! You’re just in time for lunch.”

Lest they attract unneeded attention, the three dinosaurs hopped inside.

. . .

Lunch was omurice boba tea with a bottle of teriyaki sauce on the side. It was just boba tea, but the boba had been replaced by omurice because F-Bomb hated the flavor of boba, which he likened to rabbit crap. The teriyaki sauce was teriyaki sauce.

It was the most racist thing shotgun had ever eaten.

“Well, now that you jerks have gotten a taste of my sloppy seconds, I suppose some introductions are in order. You’ve already met my lovely wife” Cool raptor gestured to the body pillow seated next to him “So that leaves you two. Mami, meet A-Hole and D-Bag. A-Hole’s got the tommy gun, D-Bag is ridin’ her sawed off shotgun, as always. They’re old… acquaintances of mine.”

“He.” Corrected D-Bag. “I’ve been using he/him pronouns six months now.”

“Well that’s an improvement. Now instead of bein’ the Boss’ side B!tch literally, you’re just his b!tch figuratively!”

“Well screw you too, F-Bomb!” laughed the boss. “An’ speakin’ of screwing, what’s with the fruity get up? You a prostitute now or something?”

“Even better! This might surprise you, but I’ve got legitimate work now. This here’s my uniform, my uniform for MILF TIDDIES!”

A-Hole chugged his entire bottle of teriyaki sauce in one go, lest his mind implode from the sheer stupidity of that sentence.

“The Hell’s a milf tiddie!?”

“Only the best freakin’ maid café in Hoikaido, hookers!”

He gestured to a wall, covered in hundreds of photos of cute floozies dressed like they were attending a vampire’s funeral. Among them was a photo of F-Bomb in his drag, serving a deep fried hot dog to some elderly Japanese dude.

“As you can see, yours truly is serving Japan’s national desert to none other than 57th Prime Minister of Japan Shinzo Abe!”

“Hold it up. Youse been hobnobbing it with politicians?!”

“I wish! You’re thinking of Shinzo Abe, 57th Prime Minister of Japan. This guy is his twin brother. Still pretty sweet though. We DID win a Grammy for that, after all.”

A-Holes eyes bulged out of his scaly raptor head.

“YOUSE WON A GRAMMY FOR THAT?!”

“Dang right! Milf Tiddies has won sixteen Grammys since I started working there!” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. A very special piece of paper, if the six holes punched into it were any indication. “Did you know that if you win ten Grammys in a row, they give you a free orphan? That’s how the wife and I got our glorious daughter, Lil’ Nagisa!”

F-Bomb pulled a faded photo out of his wallet. A photo showing himself, his pillow wife, and a smaller body pillow of a ten-year-old moeblob wearing a Green Bay Packers cheesehead helmet.

“So youse couldn’t even conceive your own kid?” Inquired D-Bag sexily. He was munching his omurice slowly, so F-Bomb knew he was being serious.

“Are you implying I have sex with my own wife, you sick freak?! I’m a weeaboo, not some degenerate anime fanboy! Get it straight!” He instinctively cocked the pistol in his throat. It was awesome as hell.

In response, D-Bag pumped his shotgun. Loudly.

“Permission to put the sick freak out of his misery, Boss?”

“Firstly, don’t call me Boss when we’re not having anal sex. Second, no can do, my spicy lover. We need F-Bomb alive.”

F-Bomb heard all of this even though A-Hole whispered it, but he pretended not to make A-Hole feel clever.

D-Bag mumbled about how the Boss was lucky he was so mind blowing in the sack, otherwise he would have left the relationship long ago. The sack in this case being a really kinky sex dungeon. Like really kinky. So kinky even Donald Trump wouldn’t go within a mile of it. D-Bag had almost died of autoerotic asphyxiation more times than I’ve gone to the bathroom in my lifetime. That’s why he was the smartest dinosaur out of the three of them. Now where was I again?

Anyway, F-Bomb interrogated

“Alright guys, what’s the deal? I know folks who come to this socialized medical care infested hellhole, and they don’t come here just to eat omurice boba tea. You WANT me for something.”

He cocked his mouth-pistol again. Sparks flew all over the carpet, which was made of alpaca fur so it didn’t catch fire.

A-Hole scandalously kept his cool.

“It’s about Isla Nublar.”

The second those words left A-Hole’s lips, F-Bomb escorted his wife out of the kitchen, but leaned her against the kitchen door, because that’s what she would have wanted.

“Well what about it? I told ya guys, I’m done with that dump.”

“They’re puttin’ the screws on us, F-Bomb. Making us pay for eating those tourists back in the nineties.”

“And what makes you think I care? Like I said, I’m done with that place. I got a wife and kid now.”

“But F-Bomb, doesn’t the Park mean ANYTHING to ya!? What about the time we ate that park ranger that called you a girl? ‘Better than sex’ I recall you saying.”

“Nice try, but I’m not exactly in the mood to get misgendered again. Don’t you guys got any ideas that don’t involve me?”

“As a matter of fact, yours truly had this really spectacular one!”

D-Bag did a hand gesture wherein he constantly crossed his dinosaur claws across his throat rapidly in quick succession. A-Hole, being very smart, knew this meant he should continue, loudly enough so that everyone in the prefecture could hear.

“It was called ‘Trump Ballz’. We’d harvest Donald Trump’s testicles, see, and sell them to the highest bidder, so they could do whatever people do with lopped off testicles. I’m not one to judge. It was a terrific idea. I know because when I told my best friend Donald Trump about it, he said, ‘A-Hole, this is an incredible idea. Absolutely terrific! This is probably the best idea in America! You are very smart, very intelligent dinosaur! I oughta buy you a prostitute!’ Of course, we didn’t realize that Trump’s ballz don’t grow back when you lop them off. Did you know that by the way? Human testicles don’t grow back-“

F-Bomb cocked the pistol inside his throat gain, getting the Boss to shut up. This was probably the most heroic thing anyone had ever done in the history of the universe. He also asked a question:

“SO WHAT THE HECK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ME?!”

A-Hole vomited a severed arm and a pamphlet onto the table.

“EVERYTHING, ya WEEB trash!”

The pamphlet was for something called the Doki Idol Live Fest- DILF, for short. F-Bomb was no stranger to the DILF, but they had parted ways years ago. Six, to be exact, when he had buried Nico Yazawa’s still screaming corpse by the side of the highway. And neither was he stranger to the prize.

It looked like a beer and soda drinking baseball cap, but only to complete idiots who didn’t know crap about the Idol Life.

And F-Bomb wasn’t one of those people, er dinosaurs.

“THE MCGUFFIN OF SIN?!”

“Dam* straight! And like it or not, youse the only one with enough idol know-how to help us win it! Thing’s worth, like, a zillion dollars.”

A zillion in this case was equivalent to half a million. Still, isn’t that impressive?

F-Bomb stuck his nose in his omurice and snorted, a common intimidation tactic among velociraptors. I know because I read it in the Scientific American.

“Sorry, guys, but even with that on the line, no can do. I’m DONE with the Idol Life, any I’m not letting you filthy casuals drag me back in.” He cocked the pistol in his throat. “NOW SCRAM!”

A-Hole and D-Bag jumped out a window, so they could get the jump on a feral dog humping its’ owner. Nobody realized they were dinosaurs because of their fake mustaches, so it looked like a pair of mobsters were eating a puppy.

When they were gone, F-Bomb pranced to the bathroom, which was filled with plush alpacas he had collected over the years. So many, in fact, the bathroom did not meet OSHA compliance. Which was why F-Bomb had made it an independent nation state, only to realize that OSHA didn’t apply to him anyway, since he lived in Japan.

He had felt really stupid after that, but at least he got his own country out of it.

Anyway, he vomited sixteen liters of blood into the sink, for F-Bomb had a secret: he was dying. Back when he was a fetus in an egg in a lab on some island in the Caribean, he’d become addicted to the illegal street drug known as WEEB, and frequent use had poisoned his lungs. The doctors had given him Socialized Medical Care and four more years to live. The WEEB had taken eighty years off his life. Socialized Medical Care had borrowed his lawnmower and never given it back.

But F-Bomb also had a dream: he and his wife were going to build their own maid café, and it would be even better than MILF Tiddies. He’d already picked a title: DILF Tiddies, and it was going to be the greatest food-selling establishment in the history of Japan. Omurice boba tea was going to go global. But he’d never get the funds on time, not on his meager salary. Unless…

His beautiful wife greeted him as he exited the bathroom.

“Get a pen and some razor blades, sweetgums. I’ve got a letter to send.”

. . .

The message arrived in the neck of a mailman’s severed head. This is the traditional way velociraptors send letters to each other. I read it in a book.

D-Bag didn’t see the letter, but the look on A-Hole’s face told him everything.

“What’d I tell ya, D-Bag? Like I always say, when you’re dino you’re dino all the way, till youse dead in the ground or youse come out as gay!”

“Yeah, we really need to update those lyrics.”

End Chapter 1

...I cannot for the life of me decide if this is the greatest thing I've ever seen or the worst, but it at the very least had me staring speechless at my computer screen for a long time.

#submission #jurassic park #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #well then

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sahbibabe · 4 years

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Hello, hope your doing well! I love your writing it's really good! Can I request a soulmate Au for Sekiro/wolf x reader, no.24 in a series format please?? 😊😅 I feel like sekiro doesn't get enough love Lol!

YES. YES. YES. Here you go~! I loved writing this. The timeline is extended more than it is in the game because it took me more than a month to beat the whole game and I doubt it takes just one day to go everywhere that Wolf did in that time.

Also, I have really strong feelings about the whole toxic 'family' relationship between Owl and Wolf. It makes me angry and pretty salty. It just came out in this.

Enjoy! ♡

"LORD KURO HAS EXPRESSED his desire to meet you." Emma sat across from you on a tatami mat, carefully pouring an herbal tea into two small cups. The glare of the sun, filtering through the open window where a nightjar stood guard, revealed dozens of sparkling gray strands in her hair, attesting to the sudden stress─and worry─that she had been confiding to you for the past couple or so weeks: that Lord Isshin grew steadily worse in condition. "He remembers you only vaguely and wishes to reacquaint himself… Should you wish, Lady [Name]."

That was your title: Lady. Not washwoman, servant, maid, cook, or soldier; it was Lady. You had been elevated to that status on account of your military prowess long before Kuro had been revealed to be the Dragon's Heritage, but you had made it a point to be there when his mother, tragically, could not. Not after the fire.

Kuro could have called you many things, if you had lingered in his life. He could have called you his aunt, his friend, or even his advisor, if he wanted. But he reminded you too much of your sister, his mother, and so you couldn't make yourself stay. It would be torture for him to see you, a twin reflection of his mother, as much as it would pain you to see him, a perfect resemblance of both father and mother. You had divested your abode─a small attachment towards the Serpent's Shrine, guarded by the sword wielding monkeys who favored your presence─of mirrors since then, unable to look at your own face.

"If that's what he wants," you replied carefully, watching the shining beacon of your soulmate's danger meter rise steadily over the kanji for 'safe', 'threat', and jump right up to 'lethal'. You had watched this phenomena happen for years now, except for a brief period after the fire, but you couldn't say who it belonged to. There were plenty soldiers who risked their lives every day, but none of them had managed to cheat death so often as yours. "I don't believe he'll be safe in Ashina, not with the Dragon's Heritage."

"You are correct." Emma set the tea pot down and offered you a cup. You took it from her one handed, preferring to warm your other hand in your lap. She took no offense, used to your daily problems with the chill. "Lord Kuro has already been taken by Lord Genichiro once. I do not doubt he would try once again. And there are others, a particular shinobi, whose motives are a mystery to me, that I don't trust."

"You speak of Owl. Not… Wolf." You hesitated to call Kuro's loyal shinobi by that name. While it was common to do so, just like the names Orangutan and Kingfisher, you had difficulty equating such loyalty to a shinobi who most definitely would reject the Iron Code if given the chance. The meter dropped down to 'safe' again, and that knot in your throat lessened just a bit. "Am I right?"

"Yes. He has been absent in all of this, and it's too suspicious for him to be so distant in the middle of such strife. With the ministry rallying, it's only a matter of time before things go from bad to worse. Which is why, if something happens to Wolf, as it did during the fire, I would like for you to be there to protect Lord Kuro."

You were still young, still in your prime. You hadn't counted in many years, but you had to guess you were thirty five at the most, your sister being thirty when she passed. You were almost close to not being a spring chicken anymore. "If that is what you wish, my friend."

Your journey to Ashina Castle was a short, but boring one. The soldiers bowed to you as you passed, putting up no sort of issue, glimpsing the family crest you wore attached to your obi. You had decided on a neutral colored yukata, designed for winter, and a thin haori to go over it and block out the cool air. Wearing a kimono would just be difficult at this point.

When you made it to the tower lookout, you were greeted─surprisingly─by Kuro himself. Emma had told you that he rarely left the archives now that Genichiro was out on the loose, run rampant by the Rejuvenating Sediment, so it was a bit of a shock considering what you had been told. You realized that he had been watching you leap across the rooftops, too lazy to take the proper way, with a nightjar at your side to keep you from falling to your death.

By his side, hand on a katana that had been named Kusabimaru, stood Wolf. You knew, almost instantly, that he was the one who had been causing your meter to skyrocket at various times of the day and fluctuate wildly. It was almost like a seventh sense, drawing you to him even though you didn't take a step in his direction. By looking at his face, the soulmate pull had been overrode by the desire to protect Kuro, and you found that admirable.

So you looked away, those dark eyes still trained on you guardedly, and faced Kuro once more. He looked more and more like his parents as he aged, so much so that it was almost painful to look at him.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, eyebrows creased just slightly.

"Lord Kuro," you greeted him, bowing slightly at the waist. That was where you differentiated from your sister; your voices were very different. Where your sister held a stern, throaty voice, yours was very soft and quiet, but held a hard edge that had Wolf on alert. "It's nice to see you again."

"Lady [Name]." Kuro stepped forward, Wolf in his shadow. He reached out, hesitantly, but propriety stopped him from touching you. "I…"

You smiled and kneeled down just slightly, careful not to dirty your yukata, and took his hands in yours. "It's alright. I know I look a lot like her. It's hard, isn't it?"

He didn't say a word, but you could see it in his eyes that it did. You squeezed his hands and stood back to your full height, allowing his fingers to slip from yours. He was still so tiny.

"Let us go inside. The birds have ears, here," you urged cautiously. Wolf seemed to realize what you were talking about and his eyebrows lowered suspiciously; typical.

For the next few days, you relearned how to deal with children burdened with an enormous task. Sometimes, Kuro just wanted to be normal and have a normal life, which you understood. The life of the Dragon's Heritage did not come peacefully or cheaply; it was dangerous, rife with struggle. It was why, he told you over tea while Wolf was gone, that he wanted to end it.

And you, like Emma, didn't want that to happen.

You also, somehow, figured out that Wolf knew what you were to him, too. He never said much of anything at all to you, perhaps because of your relation to Kuro, and kept his distance when he was present. You were certain that Owl had ruined him in more ways than one with the Iron Code; you saw the drawn muscles in his face, when you were too young to have a soulmate meter, the ribs underneath that threadbare yukata. You knew that Owl starved him, probably beat lessons into him, to make him a cheaper asset to deal with. That was how Owl worked.

It didn't stop you, or Kuro, from pressuring him to eat. Emma seemed to not want to cross that boundary of necessary acquaintance with him, which you were fine with. Kuro was good at coaxing him into eating, when he was even there, but all you had to do was set food in front of him and level him with an expectant stare, then turn to the window.

Words seemed to escape him, most of the time, with you─but body language seemed just fine. It was easier to read to him, you supposed, being a shinobi, because intent was laid bare unless you knew how to hide it. You did. You didn't see the point when all he wanted was to protect Kuro.

One night, while Kuro labored away over the books in the library, determined to find the source of a white flower, Wolf appeared in your quarters. He was severely wounded, the Dragon's Heritage unable to fix it quickly enough, and you darted towards him, catching him before he fell to the floor. He was worryingly light.

As you laid him on your bed and began to clean out his wounds as best you could, you had to wonder why he didn't go to Emma. The gourd he had was empty; shouldn't she have been able to refill it? You let the gourd fill up a little bit and then made him drink it, careful to let him swallow on his own time and not choke.

The flesh knitted before your eyes, as fast as lightning, but it was still fresh and raw, so you placed bandage wrappings over it. Whatever had attacked him had extremely long claws, as long as your body, and had gouged inch deep holes into his chest and back. They would scar, but he had plenty of other scars to be seen.

You situated his clothing back to the way it was, returned to the windowsill where you had been reading a scroll lent to you by Isshin, and waited.

Somehow, you had drifted off without noticing, the wooden scroll loose in your hand. You clenched it unconciously and opened your eyes, shocked to see the sun and not the moon. When you looked over, expecting to see Wolf still asleep, you were surprised to find him kneeling in front of you, head bowed, as if he had been waiting for you to wake up.

"Wolf?" You whispered, voice hoarse, sliding sideways to place your feet on the tatami mat. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." That could mean anything to him.

"I see. How do you feel?" You got to your feet and kneeled down, resting your hand on his shoulder. He never looked at you, though you felt the muscle in his shoulder twitch in response. "You should still be resting."

"I'll be fine. Thank you."

"Of course." You blinked, eyes wide. "I'm your soulmate, aren't I? I wouldn't just let you bleed out and die."

The telltale silence told you more than he could say.

He had expected you to let him die.

"Oh, Wolf," you sighed, urging him to his feet. He did so reluctantly, wary of your closeness but not fighting to push you away. "Owl ruined you more than I can even begin to understand."

Again, he didn't speak, but he knew it was true.

You smiled sadly at him, then reached up and pulled the ribbon keeping your hair tied in a loose bun. You grabbed his hand and pressed it into his palm, closing his fingers around it with your own.

"There." You gently removed your hands; he opened his fist to stare at it. "Any time you feel any negative emotions, just look at that ribbon and remember what I told you. You can come here anytime you need me."

He never said anything else, just left out the window he had come in through. For the first time since you had met him, he looked marginally more relaxed, more reassured, as if the idea of returning to someone who explicitly desired his presence was a comforting one.

Over the next few months, Wolf never did pop in while you were awake, but he did leave little things for you to find when you awoke, like a small amount of rice from the Divine Child, a branch of gorgeous blossoms from the Fountainhead Palace, or even Lapis Lazuli, a precious stone that you had converted into a makeshift pendant.

Kuro eventually slipped up and called you his aunt, which you delighted in. Isshin called you over for sake and old war stories, which you both recalled with excitement and solemnity. Emma brought you to visit Orangutan, who took one look at you and found himself remembering you on the battlefield; she helped you give offerings to your sister and brother-in-law's graves.

But you knew that all of it was coming to an end.

Just days before, Wolf had returned with the Gracious Gift of Tears. He had met your sad stare with one of hard resolve, and you knew that it was almost time. With the everblossom in hand, he had told you his decision secretly.

He would die so that Kuro could live. And you had no issue with that; that was his life's purpose, the only purpose that Owl had given him that had benefited him. His love for Kuro was bright, innocent, and strong, even if he was oblivious that it was love.

You had shed a few tears, of course, but you knew that above all, Kuro had wanted a normal life. There had been nothing else to discuss.

That night, before Wolf was due to fight Genichiro one last time and─Kuro would tell you afterwards, when the sun had risen, Isshin as well─he had given you all he could offer a woman, and more, because after daybreak, the last immortal would be condemned.

You had awoken to sunlight, bare and satiated, sad with the knowledge that your soulmate was no more. The meter flickered out of existence as if it had never been there to begin with.

With Isshin and Wolf departed, there was no reason for you to remain in the rotting ruin of Ashina any longer. You gave Kuro your blessing to journey the world, as he had wished, and sent him off alongside Emma.

Three months later, you would realize that Wolf had left you a gift; something most precious and valuable, something you would love until the day you died, and forever after that.

A child.

When you gave birth, Emma was there to help you. Orangutan had even departed from his temple to stand guard outside and greet the new life that had entered the world.

It was a boy, Emma revealed with a small smile, and handed him to you. He looked nothing like you. With a faint dusting of black hair and dark eyes, he was every bit just like Wolf.

And somewhere, out in the distance, you heard the Divine Dragon begin to sing.

#sekiro #sekiro: shadows die twice #sekiro x reader

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hardygalwrites · 3 years

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Anime/Manga: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Part 1: Phantom Blood)

Characters: Jonathan Joestar and Dio Brando

Synopsis: During a visit to London, Jonathan and Dio are confronted by some less than savoury characters.

Note: Originally written for Whumptober of 2020 - Day 16: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day | Forced to Beg

Set during the seven year gap in Phantom Blood. TW for mugging and violence

—

“Seen enough of London yet?”

“You do not have to accompany me,” Jonathan said, perhaps a little more shortly than he should have. “You are welcome to go back.”

“I’ve already told you, Father insisted I accompany you,” Dio retorted. “He seems to think you will get yourself lost. I am more inclined to believe you will get yourself killed.”

“That’s not funny, Dio.”

“Good thing I am not joking then.”

Jonathan glanced at his adoptive brother strolling alongside him. Dio’s golden eyes appeared to sharpen as he walked, staring down the crowded path ahead of them.

“Here in London, there are plenty of streets and alleyways that would better be described as deathtraps for the unsuspecting. One misstep, one wrong turn, and you could end up dead in the gutter, shoes gone and pockets empty.” Dio glanced, in turn, at Jonathan. “And we would not want that, would we, JoJo?”

It was hard to tell if Dio was toying with him - something that Jonathan would definitely not put past him, especially after their recent argument - but the severity of Dio’s words and eyes still took Jonathan aback. He frowned, turning his gaze back towards the path ahead.

“No, I suppose not…”

George Joestar had come to London on business. As his sons were both fifteen years old, practically men now, he had seen it prudent for the two of them to accompany him, if for no other reason than to acquaint them with the responsibilities of his occupation.

If Jonathan was being entirely honest with himself, he considered his father’s occupation just a bit beyond what his own mind could grasp. All talk of enterprise, investment, and trade meant very little to Jonathan, no matter how hard he tried to make sense of it all. He never did have much of a head for numbers. All that said, Jonathan still made an earnest attempt to listen to and understand his father’s business meetings.

Dio did not seem to have a problem understanding the trade, which honestly did impress Jonathan. When Dio’s accomplishments were not being compared to his own, Jonathan found that there was a lot to admire about his adopted brother, and it made Jonathan want to improve himself in turn. In the case of their father’s trade, however, Jonathan wondered if this was one of those cases where certain people were just more suited to certain tasks than others.

No, Jonathan’s frustrations with Dio concerned something else. One of the men that George Joestar had met with had recently invited the Joestar family to his place for dinner. While there, the man introduced them all to his own family, including one of his daughters - a lovely young lady around Jonathan and Dio’s age.

While conversing with her had certainly been a genuine delight, and Jonathan found her to be rather charming and remarkably intelligent, much of the young woman’s attention had been stolen primarily by a certain blond headed young man. Dio’s behaviour towards her seemed to go just a little beyond that of a gentleman speaking to a lady, and she, in turn,was clearly infatuated.

Dio had been dismissive when Jonathan brought it up that morning. That had shocked Jonathan, who thought that Dio had been making an honest attempt to pursue the young woman. When Jonathan pointed out that the woman was clearly taken in by Dio’s behaviour, and Dio remained dismissive, an argument started. Jonathan was obviously appalled at the thought of toying with a young woman’s feelings, while Dio claimed that none of it was Jonathan’s business and that Jonathan was overreacting.

Their father ended up stepping in before Jonathan’s agitation rose to the point of shouting. After hearing what the argument was about, George lightly admonished Dio for being cavalier with the young woman’s emotions, whether intentionally or not. Dio, who had remained cool and aloof throughout the whole argument, accepted the admonishment and apologized.

Grateful that his father had taken his side, but still irked by Dio’s insincerity, Jonathan left with the declaration that he would be taking a walk about the city. The hope that he would be able to clear his head through a long stroll did not last, as Dio joined him shortly after.

Now though, as the walk dragged on, and Jonathan turned everything over in his mind, he wondered if he was being unfair. Perhaps Dio had not realised he was being callous.

(Memories of his early life with Dio sprang to mind in protest, as they often did whenever Jonathan tried to move past Dio’s more objectionable moments in the present day. This one was of a despondent, blond haired girl. Though his heart stung, Jonathan pushed it back like all the others).

“Listen, Dio,” Jonathan said slowly. “I suppose I may have… overreacted earlier. Or rather, I assumed the worst of you when you said you had no interest in Miss Langford. I’m sorry.”

Dio glanced at him. “...You apologise too much, JoJo. Keep it up and I may stop believing you.”

“We’re brothers now, Dio,” Jonathan pressed. “I know we have our disagreements, but I do want us to get along regardless of them. Don’t you?”

Dio did not respond, seemingly distracted by one of the surrounding shops.

The street that the two of them were on now was rather cramped. It left no room for carriages or horses, instead bustling with throngs of people looking to get from one place to another. Jonathan had pardoned himself many times now trying to navigate his way through the crowd without accidentally bumping into or against someone. He could not even begin to imagine what it would be like to grow up in such a place. Even on its busiest days, the town at home seemed less crowded than the widest streets in London.

Jonathan felt a pang of disappointment when Dio did not immediately answer his question, only for Dio to say lightly, casually, “I believe we’re being followed.”

“Oh?” Instinctively, Jonathan went to look over his shoulder.

“Don’t look, you fool,” Dio bit out. “They will know we’re on to them if you do that.”

“Who are they?” Jonathan asked, turning his glance into an offhand observation of one of the nearby apartments.

“Pickpockets, more than likely. A pair of men looking to take advantage of the two rich boys who have wandered carelessly into a less than savoury part of town.”

Dio sounded amused, but Jonathan did not find the situation all that funny.

“How do we avoid them?” he murmured.

“Simply keep a tight hold on your wallet, JoJo,” Dio said carelessly.

“Perhaps we should make our way back towards the main streets…”

“Also a viable course of action.”

Jonathan began to look around, earnestly taking in his surroundings for the first time since he had started his impromptu walk. “Where exactly are we, anyway?”

“What makes you think I know? I’ve been following in your footsteps this entire time, JoJo.”

Dio was definitely toying with him now. Holding back a sigh, Jonathan looked down a right turn in the narrow street. It led down a largely empty pathway, through which the afternoon sun shone through, unfiltered by any surrounding buildings.

"I thought Father sent you after me to make sure I didn’t get lost,” Jonathan stated, turning in to the pathway.

“And I decided that you were more likely to get killed,” Dio said in lieu of a retort.

Jonathan actually did sigh this time as the two of them turned one last corner. “Dio, if you’re still angry at me or–”

Three figures suddenly stepped into the alley in front of Jonathan and Dio, cutting off their path to the open street. Trepidation set in, and Jonathan glanced behind to see another two figures turning the corner.

Dio scoffed. “Recall what I said earlier about deathtraps, JoJo...?”

“Dio, please, not now...”

The tallest of the three men in front of them spoke up, a wide and disconcerting smile on his face. “Now what’s a pair of fancy lookin’ young men such as yourselves doin’ around here?”

“As if our business is of any concern to you,” Dio said snidely.

In spite of his aloof attitude, Jonathan could tell that Dio was just as tense as he was. His shoulders were rolled back and his hands were clenched. Jonathan, for his part, tried to remain calm.

The tall man’s smile took on a more obviously dangerous edge. “Fair enough, and I suppose it’s clear what we’re really after, anyway.”

The rustle of clothing had Jonathan turning around completely. The two men who had approached from behind now each had a fist decorated with a set of well worn brass knuckles. At the same time, Dio shifted into a defensive position beside Jonathan, focus fixed on the three men ahead of them.

Jonathan’s heart thudded in his chest, and he fought the urge to wipe away the sweat forming in his palms. “There is no need for violence…”

“Ha ha! Well, aren’t you a smart one?” the tall man exclaimed. “All right then, hand over those wallets.”

“One more step,” Dio snarled, “and I will ram your own weapons down your throat.”

Jonathan gripped his adoptive brother by the shoulder. “We have nothing on us.”

He was telling the truth, at least as far as he himself was concerned. Jonathan did not have any money on his person.

“Don’t make me laugh again, boy…! Young men as well groomed as you two are bound to have a pound or two tucked away in those fancy clothes of yours…! An’ me an’ the lads are more than willin’ to tear you apart t’ find out.”

The two men in front of Jonathan inched forward, cracking their knuckles, leering at him. He was nothing but prey in their predatory gaze, and Jonathan felt like it too. He hoped they could not see him swallow as he fought to keep his fear at bay.

“Just try it then…!” Dio snapped, wrenching his shoulder from Jonathan’s grasp.

“I said we have nothing on us,” Jonathan said pointedly. “Even if we did, I do not respond favourably to threats and violence.”

“Oh…” The tall man’s voice dropped, sending a chill down Jonathan’s spine. “I am willin’ t’ bet you don’t.”

Dio lunged forward.

“Dio–!” Jonathan’s protest was immediately cut off by a blow to the face, knocking his cap off and sending the Joestar heir staggering back. He recovered quickly and faced the two men in front of him.

“Oi, the lad can take a hit…!” one of the men laughed.

“No need t’ hold back then,” the other said. “Not like we was plannin’ on it anyway.”

Jonathan assumed a boxing stance, teeth grit, worry and fear forcibly cast aside. He really had hoped to avoid any violence, but it looked as though he would not be given much of a choice.

The fight was difficult. His opponents were older than him, more experienced, and just as strong, if not stronger. Both Jonathan and Dio largely matched their opponents equally in height, the tallest man being the exception, but Jonathan was not so naive to assume that gave him much of an advantage. The men still outnumbered him and Dio more than two to one. The odds were not in their favour.

Jonathan knew better than to dwell on his disadvantages, though. He had been working hard to improve himself over the past two years, and while he was not yet quite as fast or agile as Dio, Jonathan liked to think that he had become a lot harder to knock down. Indeed, in spite of every strike that the two men managed to land on the young Joestar, in spite of every moment that Jonathan was staggered, not once did he fall. Jonathan held his ground.

In the end, after withstanding many painful blows himself, Jonathan managed to knock both his opponents down. They were not unconscious, merely stunned, but it gave Jonathan the chance he needed to step back, to breathe–

Someone screamed. Jonathan spun around to see Dio on his knees, arm being twisted viciously behind his back by the tall man.

“Dio!” Jonathan rushed forward.

At Jonathan’s cry, the tall man’s focus turned immediately on the young man charging towards him. The tall man yanked Dio to his feet, wrapping his other arm around Dio’s throat and pressing a knife just below Dio’s eye. Jonathan stopped in his tracks, his drive extinguished by a cold horror.

The man laughed, showing off a blood stained smile. “You really are a smart one…!”

Laying sprawled out on the ground, the other two men who had accompanied the tall man groaned as they slowly regained whatever senses Dio had knocked out of them. Jonathan only noticed them peripherally. All his attention was on the man currently holding a knife to his brother’s face.

“I haf’ta admit,” the tall man said, sounding just a little breathless, “you two put up a far greater fight than I expected from a couple rich boys. But that don’t matter.”

The knife pressed deeper into Dio’s skin, drawing a trickle of blood.

“No, don’t!” Jonathan shouted frantically.

“You bastard…!” Dio struggled fruitlessly in the tall man’s grasp. His teeth were bared in a snarl, and there was a slightly wild glint in his eyes.

Jonathan recognized that look. DIo felt cornered.

“Hand over your wallet, and I’ll consider not carvin’ off your friend’s face,” the tall man hissed.

“I told you, I don’t have it on me…!” Jonathan cried, a pleading desperation colouring his voice.

“Don’t lie t’ me, boy!”

“I’m not, I–!”

The tall man flipped the knife around in his hand and stabbed it into the top of Dio’s shoulder. Dio screamed.

“Stop ! Wait, please, stop!” Jonathan’s voice peaked. To his utter relief, the tall man stopped, the knife no more than halfway into Dio’s shoulder. “I- I don’t have any money, but I do have something else…!”

Slowly, so the tall man would not think he was doing anything rash, Jonathan reached into his waistcoat pocket.

“This pocketwatch…” He held up said item by its silver chain. “It is bound to be of some significant worth to you.”

The pocketwatch had been a gift for Jonathan’s most recent birthday, given to him by his father. It was a fine piece, and Jonathan was fond of it, but...

“You can have it, it’s yours. Now please let my brother go.”

“JoJo, what are you doing?” Dio growled, whatever anger or frustration he was trying to convey ultimately blunted by the pain in his voice.

The tall man pulled the knife from Dio’s shoulder, drawing a tight groan from the young blond, and laughed again. “Well, now…! An’ here I thought you said you didn’t respond favourably to violence.”

Jonathan opted not to respond. Someone snatched the pocketwatch from his hand. It looked as though the tall man’s compatriots had recovered, including the two men that Jonathan had faced.

“Still,” the tall man said carelessly, “after all the trouble you boys have put us through, I think we’re deservin’ of a little more.”

Jonathan’s heart sank. “That is all I have on me, I swear…!”

“Well ain’t that a shame?” The tall man returned the knife blade to Dio’s face. “Guess we’ll just have to take this one’s life as compensation.”

“No–!”

“Stop it, JoJo!” Dio glared up at the tall man, pure hatred flashing in his eyes. “These pieces of trash wouldn’t dare.”

The tall man’s face morphed into a glare of his own. “You willin’ t’ bet your life on that, boy...?”

The knife cut into the base of Dio’s neck, instantly drawing blood and a stifled gasp.

“Stop, please!” Jonathan shouted.

“You had best give us somethin’ then!” the tall man shouted back.

“I have nothing left to give!” Jonathan watched as the knife cut deeper, and he could not keep his voice from peaking a second time as he pleaded, “Please, I’m telling the truth…!”

“Well, if you really have nothin’ left t’ give us…” The glare faded into a sly smile, and the tall man removed the knife from Dio’s neck. “...then how about you give us a show?”

“A… show?” Jonathan echoed, confusion overtaking his panic.

“The way you say ‘please,’ all polite an’ sincere-like. I think we’d like t’ hear more of that, right, lads?”

The other four men responded affirmatively with grinning and laughter.

“Basically,” the tall man continued, “we want t’ hear you beg.”

They wanted him to… beg?

“Well? Get on with it, then!” The tall man traced the knife blade down Dio’s temple. “Beg for this one’s life and maybe I’ll consider lettin’ the both of you go.”

“Do not listen to them, JoJo…!” Dio hissed. “They’re bluffing!”

Were they though? The cruelty in the tall man’s smile, in his eyes, was undeniable. Even if Dio was right, and these men had no intention of taking their lives, the tall man had already stabbed Dio - Jonathan had no guarantee that they would not do worse.

“Killing either of us right here, right now, would pose too great a risk! They would not dare do something so stupid– Ghk…!” Dio choked as the tall man tightened his arm around Dio’s throat.

“Shut up, boy,” the tall man growled, before returning his sights back to Jonathan. “What’s the hold up? Too high and mighty to give us a bit of a beg?”

For a moment, a deeply shameful moment, Jonathan hesitated.

The tall man shrugged. “Suit yourself then.” And began to carve the knife down Dio’s temple.

“Wait, no, please! Please, I…!” Jonathan swallowed. His panic or his pride, he did not know, but they were either way irrelevant in the face of the fear he felt for Dio’s wellbeing.

“I beg you,” Jonathan said hoarsely. “Please, spare his life.”

“Jo...Jo…” Dio had turned his glare on Jonathan now even as he clawed at the tall man’s arm with his free hand, disbelief flashing amongst the wild anger. “What the hell are you doing…?!”

“Ha!” The tall man scoffed. “Come on, is that the best you can do? Show some respect to your elders, boy! You can do better than that!”

Jonathan clenched his fists at his sides, and bowed as he had been taught to do. “Please, sir, I beg you, spare his life…”

“JoJo…!” Dio snapped, his voice still tight and breathless, but no less frustrated.

“Hmm, better,” Jonathan heard the tall man say. “But not good enough. I know you’ve been livin’ the high life an’ all, but even a rich boy ought’a know how t’ beg. On your knees, boy, an’ let us know you mean it!”

“Don’t you dare!” Dio veritably screamed. “JoJo, I swear to god, if you don’t stop this…! JoJo!”

Jonathan could only apologise mentally to Dio as he dropped down to his knees. Whether Dio actually cared about Jonathan’s dignity, or if he simply did not want Jonathan to do something like this for his sake - Dio always did seem to despise being in what he perceived as debt to others - Jonathan was still resolved to do anything within his power to save him. And if that meant humiliating himself, well…

What kind of gentleman could really say he had held on to his pride when, in trying to preserve it, he caused others to suffer?

On his knees, palms turned up, Jonathan said, “Please, please, let him go. Please, I beg of you…”

“JoJ–!” The repetitive cry was cut off as the tall man clamped his hand over Dio’s mouth, allowing the knife blade to rest against Dio’s cheek. Dio began screaming in earnest, sheer fury clear in every squirm and struggle.

“Keep at it, boy!” the tall man bellowed over Dio’s muffled yells.

Jonathan clenched his fists and slammed his palms onto the moist cobblestones in front of him. “Please, I’m begging you…! Let him go! I don’t know what he thinks, but he is a brother, my brother…! We don’t always get along, and I often have trouble understanding him, but I want to keep trying–!”

Jonathan’s voice peaked and wavered dangerously. His eyesight blurred. No, don’t cry, Jonathan told himself, he was far too old to cry.

“Please…! Spare my brother’s life, I’m begging you, spare his life…”

One of the other men in the group laughed. “Sounds like the lad’s ‘bout t’ cry!”

Something struck against the back of Jonathan’s head, and he fell to the ground completely, face pressed against the cobblestones. Before he could even attempt to get back up, Jonathan felt a shoe slam itself down on his head with enough force to make his vision go white.

Dazed, Jonathan could not even hear what was being said around him. By the time his senses dragged themselves back to awareness, someone kicked him in the side, forcing a scream from Jonathan’s lips as the shoe connected with an injury he had received during the fight.

“Fockin’ ‘ell, ‘e is soft,” one of the men scoffed.

The shoe returned to Jonathan’s head, the subsequent increasing weight drawing another cry of pain.

“Best continue your snivellin’, boy–”

Someone screamed. Through the fog in his mind, Jonathan registered that it was not Dio who had done so.

The weight on his head suddenly disappeared, and Jonathan could hear shouts of alarm and panic, alongside a familiar voice snarling threats, and more screaming. As Jonathan pushed himself upright, someone stumbled into his blurring field of vision. It was the tall man, cursing and screaming as he lurched down the alleyway from which he had come, clutching at his face with blood covered hands. The tall man quickly disappeared around some corner, just as Dio entered Jonathan’s line of sight.

“Damned coward…!” Dio shouted into the alley. “Get back here so I can make you eat your own blade!”

“Dio…?” Jonathan tried to get to his feet, only for the pain in his head to force him back down to his knees with a groan, clutching his head.

“JoJo…”

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps acted as Jonathan’s only warning before Dio grabbed the lapel of his jacket.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Dio shouted furiously. “I told you it was all a bluff, and yet you went and submitted to them anyway! You damned fool, why the hell would you do that–?!”

Dio suddenly pulled back with a cry, grabbing at his shoulder.

“Dio…!” Jonathan gasped.

“I’m fine!” Dio snapped. He threw the tall man’s knife - which Jonathan only now realized that Dio had been holding - to the ground, before again covering his wounded shoulder.

Jonathan watched him, not yet daring to speak. When Dio did not continue his rant, all his glares and attention focused on his injury, Jonathan let out a breath.

“Dio.” Jonathan received a glare in response, but he met it readily. “Even if you were right, I could not risk even the slightest chance that those men would kill you...”

Dio growled and turned his glare towards a nearby wall. “So you chose to submit,” he said through grit teeth. “Damn you, JoJo, how the hell could you throw away your pride so easily?”

“We’re brothers now, Dio, I’ve told you this before.” Jonathan tilted his head, trying to get Dio to look at him again, see that he meant what he was saying. “There is a lot I have yet to understand about you, and a lot I... have to move past… but regardless, I value the bond we have. If I must humiliate myself to save your life, then so be it. I will not apologise for that.”

Finally returning Jonathan’s gaze, Dio regarded him with a dark scowl. “Such selflessness is liable to get you killed one day, JoJo...”

“So be it,” Jonathan replied decisively.

Dio scoffed. A stretch of silence followed. Then, Dio approached Jonathan and held out a hand.

“How is your head?”

Jonathan tried to hold back as smile as he grasped Dio’s offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Another stab of pain had Jonathan clutching his head again, but he managed to remain standing.

“Still aching,” he admitted. “But nothing a bit of rest won’t mend. How is your shoulder?”

Dio pressed his hand back over his most severe wound. “It isn’t serious. The knife blade did not cut too deeply.”

“Oh, good,” Jonathan said with some relief. “We should head back, then. Father is probably wondering about us by now, anyway.”

Dio ‘hmph’d in response, and the two young men soon finally made their way out of the alley and onto the main streets.

After some time spent simply walking, trying to ignore the looks both he and Dio were receiving, Jonathan thought to ask, “Ah, Dio, I am wondering: how were you able to escape that man’s grasp?”

“I bit him.”

“You… What?”

“I bit him,” Dio repeated nonchalantly. “And I would have done far worse if he hadn’t run off.”

“Dio…!” Jonathan exclaimed. He knew (from firsthand experience) that Dio was not above using underhanded tactics, but still, biting someone?

“It was disgusting,” Dio admitted with a grimace, “but my options were limited, and with you submitting to getting your head kicked in, would you rather I had just done nothing?”

“...I see.” It certainly would not have been the first tactic Jonathan would have resorted to, or even thought of, but he could not deny that Dio had saved both of them as a result. “Thank you, Dio.”

Dio waved his hand. “Yes, well… I doubt it would have been as effective if they all had not been distracted by you.”

Jonathan could not hold back the smile this time.

“You look like an oaf when you smile like that,” Dio scoffed. “Especially with all those cuts and bruises.”

“Ha, sorry,” Jonathan chuckled.

Dio simply rolled his eyes and continued to lead the way onward.

#posting from THE ARCHIVES #and my second ever jojo fic still focuses on Jonathan and Dio #man I really do kinda wish for an AU where Dio is just kind of a dick and not a homocidal murderer #the brotherly relationship between these two is so interesting to think about #whumptober2020 #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 1 #phantom blood #jonathan joestar #dio brando #fanfiction #jojo fanfiction #HardyGal writes stuff #HardyGal writes fanfiction

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tracelessrp · 3 years

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YONA GREENSPAN is a 21 year old FEMALE WEREWOLF, who looks a lot like SARA WAISGLASS. YONA spends time at Traceless because HER PACK IS THERE AND SHE LOVES OPEN MIC NIGHTS AT THE CAFE. SHE is known for BEING AN EXCITABLE WEREWOLF AND BANGING OUT THE TUNES.

Hometown: Nyack, New York Current Residence: Traceless Special Abilities: Yona is a werewolf, and fairly standard as it comes to abilities. Even when not shifted, she is faster and stronger than she looks, and has particularly good stamina. She has relatively good control over her shifts, and only starts to wolf out when she is really excited.

It does not seem like she has any other special abilities due to being a werewolf. However, she is moderately convinced that if she keeps trying to test out various powers, she will find another one out. She has a list of options that she has eliminated.

Apart from the supernatural stuff, Yona enjoys and has an ear for music. Her aunt and uncle put her into piano lessons when she was little, and she spent a lot of time practicing. She can pick up a guitar and get some chords down, but she doesn’t really like it as much as keys and singing. It can be difficult to get her to stop singing, and she isn’t very quiet about it.

Character Background:

tw: death, death of a mother, neglect of child

Arielle Greenspan had a one night stand after a night out with a friend of an acquaintance, and promptly put it out of mind until she realized that she was pregnant two months later. Arielle decided having a baby would be a great idea, and proceeded to get fully into baby fever. Playing it by ear, Arielle had her little girl, and shifted most of her work to home. Arielle’s younger brother Joey, completely bewildered by the concept of children, asked bluntly if the dad was in the picture. The answer was no, and Joey did not get much more information out of his sister than that.

As for the child, she had a pleasant early childhood. While Yona would color within the lines, she had an odd way of doing it. Yona wasn’t stupid, but she never had the finest grasp on common sense. She was an affectionate, exuberant little girl who she loved following her mom around, leading her Uncle Joey to call her a duckling. Joey enjoyed being the fun uncle, but he had never imagined that he would need to be anything more than that. ‘Godfather’ was supposed to just be a formality- a title to say that you wanted to be there in the kid’s life, right? He never seriously considered that he would have to lose his older sister so soon.

Joey had literally just gotten married three months ago, and had been looking forward to child-free adventures with his wife Genevieve for the foreseeable future. And now he had to worry about a kid who couldn’t be trusted not to put a fork in the electrical outlet? He seriously considered what would happen if he put up his six year old niece for adoption, but after Arielle’s funeral, Yona pouted and wouldn’t let go of his hand for two hours, so he had to keep her. Surely he could still get to go on his adventures as long as he found a good babysitter.

Yona’s childhood and adolescence were a little odd. She was always left under the care of somebody when Joey and Gen got the traveling itch, but those were often eccentric friends that were clueless about what to do with a kid. Sometimes her aunt and uncle brought her along on their adventures, and she was left to roam around European cities untethered. Joey and Gen read exactly zero parenting resources, and they were proud of it. Most nine year olds don’t receive a vibrator for their birthday without explanation, for example.

As sex-positive an environment as the Greenspan home was, Yona was left to the mercy of the American sex education program for any actual guidance. Twelve year old Yona, brimming with questions, asked the teacher if it was normal for girls going through puberty to “grow hair in weird places, feel really emotional all of a sudden, and have your body start to change?” After vehement reassurance that of course this was normal along with some arcane-looking diagrams of the human body, it took Yona three months to realize that it was in fact not normal to change into an entire wolf once a month. Her uncle and aunt agreed that this was very weird, but Gen had always been really into learning about the paranormal and mythology in general. After taking Yona to several obviously fake psychics and to meet up with some guy on Craigslist that sincerely believed that he was a werewolf but definitely wasn’t, Gen had almost given up hope.

On a trip when she was thirteen, Yona started talking randomly to a lady in a pie shop (she loved chatting with strangers and her aunt and uncle rarely stopped her).. and the woman happened to be another werewolf. Since werewolves had a good sense of smell in identifying their own kind and other supernatural species, the stranger lady asked Yona some tentative questions. Latching immediately onto this random woman she had just met (she said her name was HJ), she had a very informational and oddly calming conversation. Only after sharing more information than you should probably share with an adult stranger and promises from HJ for help finding a pack in New York agreed to join her very first pack did she grab her Aunt Gen. Unfortunately, HJ didn’t live in New York, so Yona had to join a pack with a whole bunch of strangers instead of her chill new adult friend. And the new pack was pretty nice. Yona thought that being part of a pack was way better than having to deal with the painful shifts on her own in the backyard.

Getting to join her own secret grown-up pack prompted Yona to start acting out more. She stayed out late, threw parties at the house when her aunt and uncle weren’t home, and pulled some truly epic pranks. The weirdest part was that Joey and Gen didn’t seem to notice or care. She would skip school sometimes and nobody at home would even mention it. All she wanted was to be noticed. She played up how much alcohol and drugs she was doing (basically nothing), and her aunt and uncle completely ignored it. She tried sleeping with some okay boy at her school when she was sixteen, but felt gross afterward and decided for once maybe she didn’t want every speck of attention she could get. She had been planning on telling her aunt matter-of-factly about that, but decided to keep at least that much to herself. It took Yona a full year to figure out that oh, she was interested in girls instead. Something about telling a pretty girl that she painfully turned into a big gray wolf every month made her feel insecure. It didn’t help that Yona found herself absolutely infatuated with just about every woman she met. Some crushes were deeper than others, but her feelings always felt real, exciting, and devastatingly painful. From her perspective, love was both brutal and amazing, and she wanted nothing more than to find it- even if it hurt. Still, it took Yona another year to admit out loud that she was gay (so gay), and desperate. What really pissed her off was when she came out to her uncle and aunt, only for Joey to reply with a casual, “Yeah, we’ve known since you were twelve.” Well it would have helped if someone had given her a hint!

Yona moved out of her aunt and uncle’s as soon as she had her high school diploma under her belt, and tried to figure out what she wanted to do with herself. Apparently, her mom had been on track to be some sort of superstar consultant. Most of the estate was funneled into a trust set up for Yona. Uncle Joey had told her he couldn’t figure out how any of that money stuff worked, and had done what the financial advisor guy who was in charge of the trust told him to do with the money. Yona didn’t feel like a trust fund baby or anything, but it was nice to know that even if she messed up, her mom had wanted to make sure she was okay. A lot of the time, Yona wondered if her mom would have been proud of her.

After moving out, Yona left her New York pack on good terms, and bought a motorcycle. Her aunt had shown her how to ride (it had only led to two near-wrecks), and this seemed more cinematic than buying a junker car that stood a chance of breaking down to drive across the country. She had been accepted at a couple of colleges (she’d kept her grades up well enough in spite of everything), but did not feel strongly about going to school when she felt weirdly stuck. Her aunt and uncle had never felt like parents, and she fantasized about discovering herself out west. Riding across the country (and getting hella lost in South Dakota… how was she supposed to keep the two Dakotas straight?) was a formative experience. It was a good thing that she had werewolf strength and instincts because Yona did not get any less naïve through this experience.

Eventually, she wound up in Seattle, which Yona thought was a bit like New York through a puddle. She didn’t really know if she even liked Seattle (mostly she just didn’t get it), but she did learn that there was a super cool-seeming café that catered to people like her. Or, well, werewolves plus a whole bunch of other species that Yona had not given a thought further than “they exist” to. For some reason, the café people wouldn’t let her bring her motorcycle into the shop so that she could have it on the other side of… well, wherever she wanted to take it. Anyway, Yona decided that she liked Traceless pretty well, and also really liked the idea of getting in on those open mic nights. Traceless was a lot better than trying to get lost somewhere even more frustrating than the Dakotas, so she stuck around. She enrolled in college, and half by-accident joined a new pack. It was great! She got to see HJ again and actually be in a pack with her. A lot of the Bonfire Pack lived in a cluster of houses in Traceless, and Yona enthusiastically moved in one with HJ. To anyone that asked, HJ was her aunt, but they were also not related in any way. Her new pack was a lot more dysfunctional and much less organized than her first pack, but Yona liked it better that way. After about four years in Traceless, she was one term away from graduating in the fall term, and not sure what she planned to do with herself apart from pitching in around the pack’s camp.

(ooc: lisa, 29, she/her, pacific)

#species: werewolf #death tw #death of mother tw #child abuse tw

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bygosscarmine · 3 years

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A PERILOUS ENGAGEMENT

Man from UNCLE - Wife or Knife AU

for @karis-the-fangirl later rather than sooner, but here is the fruit of your Wife or Knife AU in my imagination!

It’s ended up being less about the source material and way more about the potential of a very rigid, very tall man being forced by a small pistol of a woman into a [fake?] relationship. It was incredibly fun to write, and rewrite. I hope it’s enjoyable to read!

1/12

The ball may have been the event of the season in the country town of Middleton, but it was hardly high society. This should have set Elias Carrick at ease. Considering that he wasn't really meant to be in Middleton, and his friend Napoleon was so determined he should go, the general effect was a more subtle form of disquiet.

Napoleon was not the actual inmate of Elba Island, but a friend from Oxford given the moniker for reasons best left unsaid in polite society: more properly George Solo. His reassurances were to the tune of, “If you’re ever to make vicar from curate, you’ll need connections. And to make connections you need polish. The first step to polish is to at least have attended a party once.” Not reassuring, and putting rather a lot of weight on a single performance.

Solo had been in the neighborhood of Middleton kicking his heels at his uncle’s home for several weeks. Finding that Carrick would pass through the country on his way to the parish in the North, he had invited him to stop for a short holiday. Carrick had surprised even himself by accepting. The amusements had been tame enough so far, but he could not shake the sense he might end up regretting this whim deeply. He had regretted every other caper the dashing but devious-minded Solo had drawn him into, back in the day.

He stood feeling rather like a lamp-post at the edge of a London bustle, stock-still and being bumped into as if practically invisible. There were silks and muslins fluttering about, and smart jackets darting between them, all turning eager faces towards each other with smiles in their eyes. The chandelier light filled the room with a slight haze of smoke, and the heat of so many people all crowded together made him feel a little out of sorts. He had attended a middle-aged woman to a seat, and had been quite happy to allow her to gossip away at him, but had been supplanted by a matron who thought she was rescuing him. Now he had to find some other way to be politely engaged in the party, and Solo was at his elbow to make sure he did.

"Solo! My boy," said a figure of rather aged splendor, approaching. "And your friend, delightful!"

Solo made his introductions between Carrick and the Squire--his uncle was helping the Squire in some matters of business, and the man had generously included them all in his invitation. The dubious nature of inviting the man of business's nephew and friend to a ball was probably just a highlight of the country life, but Carrick felt as though he shouldn't have accepted.

"You know, there just aren't enough handsome lads about in these parts to do the pretty, so it's a famous thing to have a few visitors! Now, come, I must carry you off to please the young ladies."

Understandably, he took Solo along first, and Carrick purposefully missed his look of beckoning, to remain shored up in the debris of the party's tides. The Squire bore back down on him pitilessly, however, and ushered him along to stand up with a young woman of reddish blonde hair and a delicate face. Since Carrick was well over six foot, and built on the lines of yeoman, she seemed to be in some terror of him.

He said gently, "I am not sure I will get all the steps right," since he knew that his preference for silence did not strike people as comforting. She glanced up at him nervously, but when he moved without too much clumsiness she seemed relieved, and even made some remarks to him as if taking pity.

Being a man of the cloth did seem to excite a certain tendency toward pity in women. At least he had found it so. She left his side at the end of the set without hesitation, but with a polite word of thanks, so she was not fleeing him, either.

He had hoped to disappear into the crowd again, but Solo bore down on him with a woman who he clearly had been dancing with himself, as they laughed together. She was dressed as a matron, but still young and lively, which suited Solo. In fact, she appeared to be a widow as well. Her dark eyes were gleaming as Solo said, "Elias Carrick, madame. Future vicar and current scrapegrace. Carrick, this is Mrs. Hettisham, the Squire's daughter."

"Pleased," said Carrick, bowing.

"Keep her safe from that clumsy fellow in the eyesore coat by taking the next dance, all right?"

"It would be my pleasure," said Carrick.

The woman was quite kind to Carrick, and far from nervous. He enjoyed the scant moments they had in each other's company in the country dance that was raucous and so disorderly that when he forgot his steps it was quite unnoticeable.

"Ah, it is so nice to dance again," said Mrs. Hettisham. "But I must retire or my mother's friends will think me quite lost in dissipation."

"Let me see you to a couch, ma'am," said Carrick. He hoped to settle her and then give her company, since it would mean not having to meet yet another stranger. However, the Squire was busier about the room than his slow gait would have led one to expect. He was at Carrick's elbow almost immediately, with another blushing young lady who had no partner.

As they entered their apartments at the inn after the evening, Carrick told his friend, "If you wished for me to go to this party to gain a little polish, I can't see how it could have answered the purpose. I spent the whole evening scaring little girls."

"Sometimes learning that you are the scariest thing in a room is just the thing to find the proper confidence. Mrs. Hettisham is a wonderful example. A woman who certainly knows her own worth well enough to command whatever situation she is in."

"She is lovely."

"You know, I don't think she is?" said Solo, musingly. "But it makes no difference."

Gabrielle Seymour was meant to be in mourning. In truth, she grieved, and was mourning the loss. She was impatient with the form of the thing, however, which seemed to force her to sit and think about how unhappy she was and how little she could do about it. She had "borrowed" some clothes from one of the maids to sneak down and at least listen to the music, but had been forced to take up a position in a corner just enough obscured from the ballroom to see the edges of the dance while also worrying someone would stumble onto her taking the wrong door for supper.

She was choosing her moment to sneak back away, and it was probably now. Her aunt was safely ensconced close to the door to the dining room where she could scrutinize her staff's missteps closely in setting refreshments, and her uncle was now holding court in the card room where his status as host would not prevent him from losing a great deal of petty cash to his guests.

Just then, her elder cousin Lady Hettisham darted over as if to smooth her skirts out of the crush. “Have you seen them?” this dab of a woman in a charming half-mourning of watered silk asked in an undertone.

“I can’t see a thing from here, as you well know, Maria,” Gabrielle retorted.

“Oh, do keep an eye out,” the young widow said, and escaped to not bring attention that way.

Gabrielle could not hazard a guess what it was Maria wished her to see, since what she found immensely entertaining ranged from a truly terrible clash of jewelry to signs of an incipient tendré between ill-matched young people.

Gabrielle was just timing her dart across the hall, risking being glimpsed from the door, toward the servant stair when she saw the stranger Maria had wanted her to notice. A fair man of some height was leading Mrs. Pratt to a seat at the wall. Gabrielle knew from her own experience of coming into this neighborhood several years before that Mrs. Pratt looked even at first sight like an obnoxious woman and proved to be so in a very short time of acquaintance, but he was leaning down to hear her over the music with an intent expression. He not only helped her to her seat but sat beside her as a sacrificial lamb to her conversation, without the slightest appearance of humoring someone he wished to avoid. For a moment, Gabrielle sat riveted by the grave, square face of the young man at her uncle's ball. Then she recollected that if she could see him so well, they also might see her, despite her drab dress. The odd pair had found the few chairs shoved beside this side of the fireplace, which she had relied on being unwanted as both hot and cramped. She fled as smoothly as possible from the area.

Maria was happily chattering as her maid undressed her when Gabrielle knocked and entered.

"Someone had a delightful time tonight," Gabrielle said, keeping her voice light.

"I had never thought a Middleton ball might see a rake who knows just how to entertain a young widow," said Maria with a chuckle. "It takes so very little to make me feel gratified this way!"

She cast a more piercing look at Gabrielle, however, and said, "You did not enjoy yourself, did you, coz?"

"My disguise made it quite impossible for me to do so," Gabrielle said drily. "I had to hide in a corner and wish in vain to be brought a cool drink. I saw that large, fair man with Mrs. Pratt, but you would be put to the test to convince me he was a rake.”

"Oh no! He danced by me with little Georgina, and looked as though he were trying to juggle eggs, he was so nervous and gentle. I believe he is destined for the church. Luckily, his friend is destined to be a man of business. I do not understand how they are friends."

Gabrielle asked for more details on the flirtation, so she might not have to discuss more about her own evening, and soon bid her cousin goodnight. She spent some time in her own bed thinking, however. It made more sense that her cousin had been pointing to two strangers, particularly one who had flirted with her.

It stung more than it ought to that there were young visitors in the village that she would probably never meet. She didn’t want a London season, or even to be asked to dance at the ball--she just hated to be hidden from the world as if it were shameful that she had lost both her parents. As if she was too young to be trusted to behave in company like a mourner.

If they didn't treat her so much like a disobedient pup, she would have an easier time behaving.

Link to all posted chapters here.

#A Perilous Engagement #Man from UNCLE fic #Wife or Knife AU #fanfiction #twelve days of fic

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celestial-archer · 4 years

Text

A Lady’s Tail Chapter 1

First part of the adventures of my oc, Kelpie!

Zoba is from the wonderful @reallifeonthetheseventhfloor (a 10/10 person), check out her writing if you haven’t. Its really good!

AO3

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The rustling glide of scales on smooth stone echoed through a long cavern. There were several small indents along the wall, leading to adjacent rooms. They were near impossible to find, unless someone knew what to look for. There were trap rooms randomly spread throughout the hall. The remaining rooms each had a different specific purpose, such as being a lab, bedroom, smithery, mine, etc. At the entrance of every room had a hidden alarm system made of a crystal that activated an alarm spell when an unknown entity walked through.

The rustling stopped as a naga stopped moving and caressed a hand down the nearest wall. Her name was Kelpie. She had short pixie cut black hair, purple eyes with square glasses, and sharp venomous fangs. Her black tail was incredibly long with splatters of purple all over. She wore a dark grey pinstripe corset.

This was her base. It wasn’t as grandiose as some she had seen, such as The Great Tomb of Nazarick. Her friend Zoba was in the guild and had shown her around it one day. It was basically a masterpiece that anyone would be in awe of. Hers...was not. It wasn’t flashy nor extravagant, but it was useful. She was incredibly proud of it.

She had first discovered it when she was exploring a small mountainous area of the map. Not many people came there because it was rumored to be barren. Her objective was to see if the rumors had actually been true, afterall, Yggdrasil had so many niche secrets that something appearing to be empty could be a possible treasure trove. She roamed around for several hours that day, not finding anything until she stumbled onto the cave. It was a tiny, barely noticeable cave that couldn’t even fit her tail inside. The possibility of it being a secret entrance to a hidden dungeon was 90% in her head, but 0% in actuality. Her first thought was to just cut her loses and leave to find a real dungeon, but something made her stay. Even now she couldn’t say what it was that made her spend weeks carving out the beginning of the cave. It just felt right.

She never really stopped carving it out either. Every time she logged in and had available time, she would spend 30 minutes to an hour expanding it. As of now it spanned throughout the entire mountain area. She first began expanding it because she had wanted extra space, but continued it due to the mountain range being rich with precious stones and metals. Expanding it every day would give her a profit of over 100 metals or gems.

She sighed deeply and turned to look at her NPC, Goren. He was near identical to an Archangel of Flame, except for some key differences. Being at level 80, he had way more power than them. His halo was a swirling mass of molten gems. A good amount of her gems went into decorating him. His angelic metal body was almost completely covered with gems and stones of different composition and color. Technically he wasn’t supposed to exist since she was only a solo player, but through the use of a world item she had stumbled upon he was able to come into existence. While not necessarily a handsome NPC, he was very pretty to look at with the rainbow of colors on his body.

Flicking her hand in the air, the screen of the menu popped up. The clock counting down the seconds mocked her. In less than 3 minutes Yggdrasil and everything from it would be gone forever. Her avatar, NPC, and base, gone like a piece of paper going up in flames. Pulling up her friends list, the green font of two players rested at the top, Momonga and Zoba. Seems they were online too. She quirked a smile, happy that she wasn’t the only one seeing Yggdrasil off. She was, at most, a step above acquaintances with Momonga, but he was a fun guy that cared deeply about the game. She couldn’t imagine him not being here for the shutdown.

Zoba was one of her one of her closest friends in the game. They had first met while they both were dungeon crawling and ended up partying together to beat the final boss. Even though she was not an official member of the Ainz Ooal Gown guild, Zoba would still go farming and dungeon crawling with her.

Kelpie hovered her hand over the message option, but let it drop down. She wanted to talk one last time, but didn’t want to interrupt anything either of them were wrapping up. These last moments felt too sacred to do so. There was a tension in the air that said she needed to be alone in these final moments.

Less than two minutes remaining now. She felt the seconds ticking by like an execution and in a way, it was. She slid her hand into one of the indents in the wall and a section of the wall scraped silently across the floor. Slithering through, she glanced around the room. Shelves filled with items ranging from magic books to limited time drops lined three of the walls. The fourth had a drawered desk with a simple wooden chair in front against it and an anvil to the left. The center had a huge bundle of furs from several different high leveled beasts. This was her bedroom in all its glory.

One minute remaining. There was nothing she could do to stop the horrible march of time, but wait for the inevitable. Wiggling her tail under the top layer of fur, she settled down on the top of her coiled tail. She imagined the softness of the fur and the warmth that radiated from it. Her eyes drifted shut and she counted down.

0....

The forced consciousness of her IRL body never came. She peeked an eye open, expecting to see the white ceiling of her dorm bedroom, but instead, her vision was filled with the dark grey of stone.

What...was going on? She pushed her hand down to get up, but paused.

A plush warmth pushed against her hand. Almost the same feeling she had imagined a few seconds earlier. Her eyes drifted down and confirmed, yes that was indeed her fur bed.

Huh, different possibilities popped inside her head. Am I hallucinating? Am I in a coma? Am I dead? Am I trapped in the game? She lazily flicked her hand up and-

Nothing appeared.

“The fuck?”

She flicked her hand again and again, but still nothing appeared.

“Ok, the menu doesn’t seem to work. Great.”

Kelpie ran her hand through her hair and propped herself up. Immediately, she fell forward and slammed her face against the floor. Her tail stayed passively coiled on the bed. Shit, she had forgotten about that. Note to herself, trying to move her feet would not move her tail.

Putting a hand on her chin, she stared at it.

The color was even more vibrant now than it was before. The black was so sheek while the purple glowed brilliantly. With a light hand, she tentatively touched them and shivered. That was a new experience. Her hand felt the cool, smooth texture of the scales, while her tail felt a muted pressure against it. Almost like a cloth between her hand and tail. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar.

She shifted her hand and lifted the middle section of her tail. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked. She didn’t think her tail should be this easy to lift.

Was it possible that she became stronger? She gave it a second of thought, but she shook her head to dispel the thoughts, no time to think about that right now.

She placed her other hand on the opposite side of her tail and shook it back and forth to imitate the side to side movement of snakes. The feeling certainly was different from legs. Her tail had a lot more flexibility and there wasn’t the feeling that it should be one certain way. With legs, it's not possible to bend it in any way other than forward, unless the bone was broken. She could move and twist her tail in almost any direction. It was kind of freeing to not have any movement restrictions.

Committing the sensation of her tail moving to memory, she took a deep breath and tried to stand up. Well stand up as much as one could with a tail. It was a different balance than she was used to, more unstable. She no longer had two rigid foundations, but one long fluid foundation. She wobbled unsteadily side to side and immediately face planted.

Again.

Ok.

One more time. She could do this!

She pushed herself back up, rubbing her face lightly with one hand. She wobbled horribly, but, by extending her arms to the side, didn’t fall over right away.

Progress!

She inhaled and tried to stabilize her center of mass. She shook slightly, but had enough balance to try moving forward. She visualized the image of a snake moving. Its entire body would swerve left and right, so maybe she should try that. It didn’t seem right for her to move all of her upper body though. That would disrupt her delicate balance.

She lightly swung her hips back and forth. It felt absolutely ridiculous, but she couldn’t deny it gave her results. She successfully slithered out from the fur pile.

With the basics down, she spent the next ten minutes practicing how to move. She fell a lot the first half but was able to gradually work up from a slow crawl to a fast slither. The longer she practiced, the more her tail felt right. Like this was the way she was supposed to exist.

Well, one thing done. Now to figure out what was going on here. First step, exit her bedroom. She slipped her hand back into the indent and the door slid open. A warm and pleasant breeze brushed against her, causing her arms to erupt in goosebumps. It felt like she was outside in the middle of winter and the breeze was the little bit of sun shining down. Why was it so cold?

Pulling a small fur from her bed and wrapping it around her shoulders, she slithered out of the room.

The wind blew from the direction of the entrance, so she decided to head that way. The walls passing by her were enchanting. She had never paid much attention to them before, being just a simple background to her, but now she wondered if she just never looked hard enough. The walls shimmered with rainbow particles in a nice contrast with the dark grey of the stone. She lightly brushed her hand down it. The texture was very smooth like a polished stone and warm to the touch.

Why was everything so much more vivid? What was the cause behind it? The scientific part of her was desperate for the answer.

She absently ran her finger tips along the wall. The smooth surface paired with the warmth was a calming tactile stimulation. Texture was a coping technique that worked decently well for her.

Breath in and out, in and out, in and out.

So much happening in so little time was overwhelming.

Deep breath in and out, in and out, in and out.

She dropped her shoulders, releasing the tension in them.

Ok, she was ok. She could get through this.

She wrapped the fur tighter around herself and continued onward, still dragging her hand across the wall. The cave got brighter and brighter until the light shining from the outside was visible. She could see the… greenery… of the outside?

She rushed forward, the fur slipping off her shoulders and onto the floor, forgotten. The sun beat down on her still body. She glanced around, twisting around to take in all of her surroundings.

A forest.

She was in a fucking forest!

Trees so densely packed together that she couldn’t even see past them. Shrubbery with berries and thorns at the bases. She was supposed to be in the mountains!

What the fuck! Whatthefuck! Whatthefuck!

Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath quickened into hyperventilation.

Fuck! Fuck!

She clutched her head tightly as her vision swirled. She tried to force air into her lungs, but it wasn’t working. Her body swayed haphazardly and she collapsed against the bark of one of the trees.

Oh god, she couldn’t breathe!

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

She put two fingers against the pulse point on her neck and took deep breaths. One, two, three, she counted up to ten and started over, letting her heart rate settle.

She inhaled, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled, repeating it until her heartbeat and breathing returned to normal.

Ok, good. She was calmer.

She pushed her weak arms against the tree and righted herself. Hopefully her nausea would subside in a few minutes.

Shutting her eyes and tilting her head back, she took in the sounds of the world around her. It was strangely quiet, not a single bird chirping or any rustling of small animals scavenging for food. It should have sent warning bells through her mind, but the silence was too nice for her high nerves.

Seriously, what was going on? She knew her dreams weren’t this vivid, so she couldn’t be sleeping. The coma theory was still a possibility but very low.

Maybe this actually was her new reality somehow, but it just didn’t make any sense! It had to be an error of some kind in the game.

A breeze blew through her and she shivered again. Scouring the ground around her revealed that nothing was there. Shit, where was her fur? Did she drop it in her panic?

Her teeth clattered and she wrapped her arms around herself. She made a plan in her head to find a permanent solution for the cold to replace the fur. She turned around and glided towards the cave.

Snap

A branch behind her broke in half. Shit, it really had been too quiet. Of course something had been wrong!

Instinct took a hold of her. She spun around and hissed, the sound echoing through the forest. Her fangs elongated and venom pooled at the tips. Distortion took over her voice, slurring the S as she shouted.

“Who are you?! Ssshow yourself now!”

The green brush parted and out stepped a shiny silver angel with multi-colored stones all over his body. His arms were raised as he spoke carefully, his voice a quiet baritone.

“My lady, it's just me. I apologize for leaving your side. I should have asked permission to do so. I will take any punishment you wish to impose.”

He kneeled in front of her, waiting patiently and radiating shame. Her body slouched back, resting against her coiled tail. She relaxed her face, allowing her fangs to shrink back to their normal size, no longer producing venom.

Holy shit.

“Goren, is that you?”

“I assure you, my lady, I am no mimic. If needed, I can show proof of my identity”

He remained completely motionless, his head bowed in submission. It was so surreal that she doubted that he was actually there. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. The panic was bubbling back up into her chest, but she took deep breaths to stave it off.

“My lady, are you ok?! Give me the order and I'll do whatever it takes to aid you!”

She opened her eyes and peered at him. Yep, he was still there, but now his head was raised, staring at her. There was no change in his facial expression, but from the heavy concern lacing his voice, she knew he was deeply worried about her.

“Ah, yeah. I’m uh… I’m ok, just give me a second to contemplate.”

“Understood.”

He continued staring at her and it felt like he was staring into her soul.

“Actually, would you go retrieve my fur? I dropped it somewhere inside.”

“Of course! It would be an honor!” He exclaimed, his voice full of happiness.

Swiftly standing up, he gave Kelpie a deep bow and rushed into the cave.

With a heavy sigh, she rolled her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. It was nice to not have the heavy weight of his stare on her, but she was a little sad at the absence of his company. His eagerness to help was really cute, like an excited puppy. It lifted her spirits and reminded her of how she interacted with her own friends, extremely loyal and excited just to be with them. Some of her IRL friends would even call her a golden retriever with how excitable she was.

It was possible that it would come back to bite her, but she decided to trust him completely. He seemed too earnest to betray her. Plus trusting him would save her more hardship for the meantime.

His hurried footsteps clanked from behind her. She turned to him and gave a small smile. The fur was clutched in his arms as if it was a sacred object. It was impossible for his facial expressions to change, but he still managed to radiate happiness as he reverently held the fur out to her.

“Here is your fur, my lady! Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Thank you Goren. I’ll let you know in a moment.”

She grabbed the fur and gently wrapped it around herself. That was so much nicer. The cocoon of warmth banished the cold. No longer feeling trapped in the middle of a blizzard, she could think more clearly. The cold and large amount of new information had given her sensory overload.

She observed Goren. He was intensely watching her again, probably waiting for her response. He had been acting very interestingly. He was so subservient and worshipful, like she was some kind of goddess. Was this part of a scenario the developers had set up? If so, she wished she had been given some kind of warning. She clicked her tongue and addressed Goren.

“So I assume you went exploring. Did you discover anything?”

“Yes! It seems that we are between a mountain range and a forest. I found no signs of the mountain we were in previously. There appears to be a city and small village in the distance. The village is closer than the city. If you wish, I can lead you there.”

She tilted her head and hummed.

“Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Visiting the village would be very advantageous. It was likely where she could get more information about this new scenario and how to complete it. She didn’t really need Goren to lead her to it. With her ranger skills, she could easily find it herself, but having Goren with her would be comforting.

“Understood, please follow me, My Lady.”

Goren turned and led her through the forest. Trees passed by quickly and she easily maneuvered over the roots and uneven ground. It was a normal forest except for the missing ambience of life. She slithered her way up to Goren, matching his walking pace.

“Goren, do you know why there are no animals around?”

Goren tilted his head to look at her.

“Of course. While you were resting, I took the opportunity to establish our territory. There were many species that had territory near the cave, so I defeated all of them. The other animals are likely avoiding us out of fear. Any who dare to challenge you will be struck down.”

His voice dripped with malice as he spoke the last sentence. Anyone with a sane mind would be filled with unease from hearing the deadly tone, but it just filled her heart with happiness, causing her tail to slap the ground repeatedly.

“Good job! That will save us so much trouble! If we don’t need to worry about animals tripping them, we could install several traps and extend the alarm system outside the cave. Possibly even making dummy caves.”

She paced back and forth muttering to herself about what traps would be good to put down, but was interrupted by Goren gurgling and dropping down to one knee.

“My Lady! I am undeserving of your praise! It is my duty to fulfill your wishes and protect you. Everything I am belongs to you and if you commanded it, I would happily die for you!”

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him. She was just giving him a compliment, how had the conversation turned so serious?? She rushed forward and pulled his arm up. He gave no resistance and rose to his feet.

“No, no, no, there is no need to die! I gave you a compliment because you deserved it! It would make me very happy if you were to accept.”

“I...Yes, of course. I humbly accept your words.”

He tried to kneel again, but Kelpie held his arm tighter and gave him a stern look.

“Enough kneeling. You were showing me to the village, right? Let’s continue with that.”

He gave a simple nod and turned to continue through the forest. Kelpie sighed in relief and followed after him. His personality was different from what she expected. She hadn’t given him the worshipping trait, so where had it come from? She would ask him why he was so reverent but she was worried that he’d do something extreme again.

She shrugged her shoulders back and focused her attention to the forest. They were getting closer to the edge of the forest. The trees were thinning out and she could start to make out the image of a village. The first thing she should do upon arrival would be to gather information. Knowing where they were currently was priority number one, but it would also be good to discover the main quest. Finishing it was probably the key to getting her menu and ability to log out back.

Now that she thought about it, the immersion was incredible. The devs must have worked really hard on this, especially the npcs. She always imagined the personal npcs having a monotone voice, but Goren’s was incredibly expressive. She was interested to see more of his personality as well. She had originally programmed him to be shy and blunt.The blunt trait was intact, but the shyness was nowhere to be seen. In the future, would she see it through his interactions with other people, maybe even other players?

There had to be more players spawned into random locations like her. It couldn’t be just her, right? Yeah, it couldn’t be just her. Meeting another in the village would make her day. They could share information and figure everything out faster.

“My Lady, we’ve arrived.”

Goren’s quiet voice cut through her thoughts.

The village was just beyond the edge of the forest where they stood. There were several stone houses surrounding a wooden watchtower. Several villagers were wandering around doing menial chores, such as wood chopping and tending the fields. Kelpie scanned the area, searching for anyone that looked important. They would be the one most likely to be the quest giver.

“I don’t see the chief, what about you?”

“I apologize, My Lady, but I am also unable to.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. She would just have to go searching for them then. Hopefully they’d be outside, she didn’t really want to search through all of the houses for them.

“Goren, use your skill “Hide Shadow”. We don’t know if the village is safe or not. They look harmless, but you can never be too careful. Stay in my shadow until danger appears or I give the order, understood?”

“Of course!”

He crossed his arm over his chest with a bow and melted into darkness that tunneled down into her shadow. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ok, time for answers. She set her shoulders and crept towards the village.

The field workers in front of her were hard at work, weeding and harvesting the wheat. They remained oblivious to her existence until she started crossing across the field, trying to avoid crushing any crops. The first to see her was a young male villager around the age of 18. His scythe slashed through the wheat stalk and he pulled the bundle away cleanly. He was laying the bundle into his basket when his eyes met with Kelpie’s. For a moment, nothing happened. They stared at each other, neither making a single movement. She lifted her hand to wave and all hell broke out.

The villager opened his mouth and let out the loudest scream she had ever heard. He turned tail and sprinted towards the houses. The others lifted their own heads to investigate and gave their own screams of terror. They retreated the same way as the young man, shoving and trampling the ones in their way. One was unfortunate enough to trip. He fell pathetically to the ground and whimpered in pain as he was slowly trampled to death. His lifeless body laid there, blood pouring out from under it.

The screams flowed through the air like an orchestra symphony and euphoria welled up in her chest.

This was exciting!

A breeze blew across the field and carried the metallic scent to her. She slowly inhaled then exhaled, enjoying the scent. It was enticing, like the smell of thanksgiving dinner on an empty stomach.

Her pupils dilated into slits as saliva pooled in her mouth. Her fangs elongated, venom dripping down them. The sounds and smell were amazing and she wanted, no, needed more! A long hiss reverberated from deep in her chest. The sound traveled through the village and wails erupted from just beyond the houses.

Yessss, she liked that! More, more!

She flew across the field and entered the village. A mob of villagers were waiting for her with torches and pitchforks in hand. They shook where they stood and she could hear the loud pounding of their hearts. The fear was thick enough that she could smell it and it was as delicious as the bloody scent.

Good, they should fear her! A forked tongue flicked out as she licked her lips. She could practically taste their flesh already. A hunting horn boomed out and like a flash, the mob charged her.

Foolish~

The world slowed down to a crawl as adrenaline shot through her body. She could clearly see the terror on the front line’s faces. They knew their chances of survival was low, but they still had the smallest amount of hope inside of themselves. She would enjoy crushing that~

She crouched her body down and shot forward with explosive force. Slashing her hand in an arc, the heads of all the frontliners flew from their shoulders. Blood erupted out like a volcano and the bodies collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. It happened in an instant, leaving no time to react before they were dead. The mob collectively shuddered in fear. Many of the back liners dropped their weapons and ran for their lives, crying pitifully and letting prayers fall from their lips. She gave them a glance but didn’t chase after them. She had enough of a feast before her to ignore the stragglers. Kelpie brought the back of her blood covered hand to her mouth and dragged her tongue across it. The blood was sweet like a piece of candy.

Tasty! Tasty! Tasty!

A feral grin overtook her face and drool dripped out the corner of her mouth. How nice would it taste right from the source?

A muscular elder stepped forward with an axe, staring defiantly. Yes, he would do nicely as an example. Let them see what happens to those who defy her! He rushed forward and swung the axe at her head.

Slow! Slow! Slow!

She thrust her arm at his neck, her fingers wrapped tightly around his neck and she lifted him off the ground. The axe clattered to the ground.

“Let thisss be a warning to you all. Those who defy me, die painfully.”

She unhinged her jaw and bit down on his shoulder. His agonized scream intensified as she pumped venom into his bloodstream. Releasing her hand, he slammed into the ground and convulsed wildly. He would die slowly and painfully. She brushed her thumb across the corner of her mouth.

Laughing maniacally, she asked,

“Who'sss next?”

_________

She woke up from her trance several hours later, the taste of blood thick on her tongue and piles of bodies surrounding her. Her fur was drenched enough that there was no sign of its original color. In just one day, she had completely obliterated a village.

The slickness of the blood covering her cooled her body uncomfortably. Yet, it still wasn’t a horrible feeling.

Oh god, what had happened? Memories overwhelmed her mind with perfect clarity. The revulsion she should have felt was completely missing. In fact, just thinking about it was enough to make her happy. She touched her hands to her face and felt the smile she had.

She dry heaved. Why wasn’t she horrified by her actions?? What had happened to her??

Oh god, this couldn’t be the game! It couldn’t be! The game couldn’t affect her thinking and feelings!

Hyperventilation took her over and she clawed at the invisible pressure squeezing her neck.

This was real! She had just murdered whole families and enjoyed it! Worse was that she wanted to do it again!

Her vision became hazy and black spots appeared all over. She fell forward, the sensation muted to the point of nonexistence. She dug her fingers into the ground and tried to drag her body away from the glassy eyed bodies. She raspily called out in desperation.

“G...Goren...Help…”

The sight of Goren rematerializing and reaching for her was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

#overlord #kelpie #kelpie dark #goren #my oc #my writing #a lady's tail #gore #blood

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

Text

Fic: Northern Lights

Summary: Belle travels to frozen Arendelle to witness the Northern Aurora. Legend has it that eligible young women will see the face of their intended in the lights, but Belle’s never held much sway by old wives’ tales…

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling moodboard, available here.

Rated: G

Northern Lights

Belle had been looking forward to her trip to Arendelle ever since she had received Anna’s invitation. As the carriage drove through along the heavily salted roads, snow and ice piled up in huge drifts around them, she could see that the entire kingdom was in a state of intense excitement.

She knew why, of course. It was the entire reason for her visit to Anna in the first place. Well, in the invitation, Anna had couched it in terms of diplomacy: a visit from a duchess of the southern lands to the frozen and near uninhabitable North was always a good exercise in maintaining friendly relations across the Enchanted Forest. Belle knew the truth, however.

The Northern Aurora was due to become visible again over Arendelle’s peaks that night, and it was a momentous occasion. The mesmerising sky lights were only seen every ten or so years, and all of Arendelle fell into a frenzy when they became visible again. Much store was set by the Aurora, and the swirling colours were said to predict all kinds of things about the future.

Belle did not hold much with the divination side of things, but she knew that she wanted to witness the natural magnificence since she had the chance. She had seen illustrations of the Aurora in her books before, but she knew that they would never be able to compare with seeing the lights in person. The pictures themselves were breath-taking, which meant that the lights themselves could only be more so.

The carriage rounded a corner and the Arendelle royal palace came into view. Belle could already see Anna standing by the gates, wrapped up in wool and furs and prancing from one foot to the other to try and keep warm as she waited for her guest. Almost as soon as Belle was out of the carriage, Anna had grabbed her and was leading her through the palace’s halls, chattering on so fast that Belle could barely get a word in edgeways. She didn’t mind, though, content to let Anna guide her on a whistle-stop tour of the palace and fill her in on several hundred years of history in just a few minutes.

She had first met Anna just a few years ago, when she had accompanied Queen Elsa on a tour of the southern kingdoms and they had spent a few days in the Duchy of Avonlea, neighbouring Belle’s own lands. All of the nobility in the region had been invited to meet the visiting royalty, and being Belle’s age, Anna had taken a shine to her. Although they were chalk and cheese in terms of personality, Anna brash and outgoing, a people-person in all respects, whilst Belle was more reserved although no less forceful when she wanted to be, the two young ladies had got on very well and had remained firm friends ever since.

This was Belle’s first time in Arendelle, and her first time visiting anywhere without her father. Anna was determined that they should make the most of their comparative freedom.

“Of course, Elsa will make sure that we have a chaperone when we go out to see the lights tonight, but with any luck it will be Sir Rumpel.”

“Sir Rumpel?” Belle was intrigued by the name.

“Rumpelstiltskin, really, but it’s such a mouthful to pronounce. He doesn’t seem to mind when I call him Rumpel. Everyone says that he’s performed great feats in war against the ogres. Of course, all that was long before my time and he doesn’t like to talk about it, but I think that the reports are trustworthy. Anyway, he’s lovely, and very discreet so I don’t think he’ll tell Elsa if we happen to slip away for a bit.” Anna sighed dramatically. “It can be so tiresome having someone watching your every move all the time.”

Although Belle was only the daughter of a duke comparatively low in the noble pecking order, she too knew the problems of being followed by knights everywhere she went. She wasn’t sure that she was looking forward to meeting this knight of Anna’s. In her experience, most soldiers were alike, but Anna’s description of Sir Rumpelstiltskin had roused her curiosity.

The rest of the day was spent in the room that had been set aside for Belle’s stay, the two girls catching up on everything that had happened since they had last been in touch. As darkness began to fall outside, far earlier than it did in the south, Belle could tell that Anna could barely contain her excitement; she was practically bouncing up and down on the bed.

“You know, they say that young ladies of a marriageable age will see the face of their future husband when they look into the lights,” she said, then gave an emphatic sigh. “Oh, I hope mine’s handsome.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Anna, please don’t tell me that you invited me to see the Aurora just so that I could see my potential suitor?”

“Of course not! The lights are a wonderful natural phenomenon that everyone should have the chance to experience in person and of course we’re doing our bit for maintaining good relationships between Arendelle and the rest of the Enchanted Forest. Honestly, Belle, didn’t you read my letter to your father?”

Belle remained firmly unconvinced and Anna let out a sigh of defeat.

“All right, all right, yes, one of the reasons that I wanted you to see the lights was to see your future husband. I know that you haven’t been having much luck on that front and I thought that if you had something to aim for then it would help you.”

Belle just shook her head in despair. It was true enough that none of the potential matches that her father had introduced her to over the last couple of years had been anywhere near suitable, and she knew that she was running out of eligible noblemen, but Belle had never been of the opinion that bloodlines and fortunes should be of the highest priority when selecting a partner. She held far more store by love and friendship, no matter who her partner might be.

Presently there was a polite tap on the door and a voice spoke through the wood.

“Your Highness, Her Majesty has instructed me to accompany you to the Aurora tonight. I suggest that we head out soon if we want to get the best view of the lights.”

Anna rushed over to the door and flung it open.

“Oh, I did so hope that it would be you coming with us, Sir Rumpel. Belle, this is Sir Rumpelstiltskin. Sir Rumpel, my dear friend Lady Belle of the Marchlands.”

Sir Rumpelstiltskin bowed. “Welcome to Arendelle, Lady Belle. I hope that you’ll enjoy your stay here.”

Belle curtseyed. “Thank you, Sir.”

She took a moment to take him in, the famous knight that Anna had told her so much and yet so little about. He was certainly not like any of the other knights of Belle’s acquaintance, and she was very pleased by that. He was older for a start, mature and measured rather than one of the young, hot-blooded types that she was used to, and there was kindness and gentleness in his eyes.

“The sled is waiting, Your Highness, Your Ladyship. I’ll see you shortly.”

He closed the door after him, and as Anna bustled around gathering their warm cloaks and fur-lined boots, Belle was left wondering.

“Come on, Belle, stop daydreaming! You don’t want to miss your chance, do you?” Anna shoved a hat on her head haphazardly and as Belle pulled it up from over her eyes, she saw Anna give a wistful sigh. “Oh, I hope mine looks like Prince Hans from the Southern Isles.”

Belle raised an eyebrow, unseen, and she continued to prepare for their departure. From what she’d heard of the Southern Isles’ royal family, she thought that Anna could do an awful lot better than Prince Hans, but she didn’t say anything, letting her friend indulge in her harmless fantasies.

At last, they were ready, and soon tucked up snugly under heavy blankets in the back of the sled. Sir Rumpel was trotting alongside them on a white charger, and Belle couldn’t help sneaking little sideways glances at him. She was trying to be subtle, but she knew she’d failed when she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smile.

Presently, he leaned down in the saddle to speak to her.

“You’ll get a good view just around the next corner,” he said. Even though Belle knew that he was talking about the lights, she felt her face flame as her thoughts turned in a different direction. At least the warmth in her cheeks was countering the cool wind.

They rounded the corner and all thoughts of Sir Rumpel were put out of Belle’s head as she caught her first glimpse of the Aurora. It was breath-taking, even from this distance, and she stared in wonder at it.

“I know, it’s mesmerising, isn’t it?” Anna clapped her hands together in excitement. “It’ll be even better when we get closer.”

The sky was swirling in bright greens and blues as if it were alive, and Belle immediately thought of just how little justice the illustrations in her books did to its raw and unrefined beauty. It kept her spellbound until they reached the plateau where crowds were gathering to watch the lights in their full glory, and it was only when Sir Rumpel offered her a hand to help her out of the sled that she remembered where she was and was brought back to the present.

She kept hold of his hand as he guided her across the icy ground towards the best viewing spot; Anna had already rushed on ahead, not caring as she slipped and slid across the plateau until she was right in the centre of the crowd, gazing up at the Aurora.

Belle looked up and drank in the majesty of the spectacle. If she’d held even the vaguest belief in the old notions, then it would have been well and truly squashed in that moment. There was nothing akin to a human face in the lights, and she could not see how anyone could see anything aside from the beautiful waves of colour. They in themselves were more handsome than any potential intended.

Although, that said…

She looked across at Sir Rumpel, very aware that she was still holding his hand, but he showed no signs of being uncomfortable with her closeness. He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring up at the lights as she had been doing until just a moment before.

The swirling hues of blue and green lit up his face, and Belle wondered. Maybe it was not so much seeing the face of one’s future partner in the lights, as seeing the lights in the face of one’s future partner.

Almost as if he could feel her looking at him, Sir Rumpel glanced over at her and smiled, giving her hand a brief squeeze where it still rested in his.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?”

Belle nodded. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I’m glad you’ve had the opportunity to experience it first-hand.”

Nothing more was said, as Anna came bounding back over to them at that point.

“I think I’m going to marry a reindeer,” she said, screwing her nose up in disgust. “I couldn’t see anything at all human shaped. Just what looked like antlers. What about you?”

Belle shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen any antlers.”

“But you have seen something, right?” Anna was far too enthusiastic for her own good. “Something good?”

Belle glanced at the knight beside her once more before turning back to Anna.

“Yes. Something good.”

It was only an old fairy tale, after all, but maybe some truth could come out of it in the future.

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle #Belle French #Rumpelstiltskin #Knight!Rumpel #Lady!Belle #meet cute #first meetings #Fic: Northern Lights

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elite-guard-hardygal · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020 Day 16: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day | Forced to Beg

@whumptober2020

Anime/Manga: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Part 1: Phantom Blood)

Characters: Jonathan Joestar and Dio Brando

Rating: T

Genre: Suspense and Family

Synopsis: During a visit to London, Jonathan and Dio are confronted by some less than savoury characters.

Author’s Notes: Wow, this is spectacularly late. This oneshot really did just spiral out of my control until I finally reigned it back in. Enjoy some fifteen year old Jonathan and Dio whump, with a side of Jonathan trying to be a good brother.