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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months

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Napoleonville [Chapter 6: The House Of Salt And Scales]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, Evangelical Christians, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, (Mis)Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, blood, alligators, ANGST!!!

Word Count: 7.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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“Did you hear that Willis is single again?”

Ugh. “Yes, Mama. I heard. You told me already.” You linger in the doorway with a white bakery box in your hands: your mother’s favorite, grasshopper pie, straight out of the 1960s. She allegedly ate through two a week when she was pregnant with you. Cadi has already dashed inside and made herself at home; she’s probably jamming the movie she got from Blockbuster—Predator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Amir recommended it—into the VHS player. “You told me, Willis told me, all his deputies told me, Cadi told me, my mailman told me, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly told me, literally every resident of Napoleonville has informed me in no uncertain terms that Willis is single again. And I could not possibly care less.”

Your mother sighs and presses a hand to her forehead, wounded and incredulous, like she’s just watched a 60 Minutes segments about a tsunami or a genocide. “I just don’t understand it. In my day, people married for life.”

You glance back longingly at your Chevy Celebrity. “Yeah. I know they did.”

“When your father, and God rest his soul, when he was young, he was a hellion,” your mother says, as if you don’t remember it, as if you weren’t there. “He’d get his paycheck every Friday and stay out all night with his buddies, sometimes he didn’t come home the whole weekend. I’d lay into him when he finally showed, I’d say, ‘Rene, how on earth am I supposed to put dinner on the table if I don’t have any fish in the icebox?!’ Once he punched a hole in the kitchen wall and I had to cover it up with a picture of President Eisenhower! And I never even thought about leaving. How could I have done that to you? Forcing you to grow up in a broken home? Mothers and fathers living apart, whoever heard of such a thing? It’s unnatural.”

You’re brainstorming recipes to distract yourself. Caramel pretzel cookies. Banana chiffon pie. Cheese Danish cupcakes with diced cherries and a hint of vanilla. “Everyone draws their own lines, Mama.”

“But it’s not just about you,” she implores, her eyes shimmering with sympathy she never had for other women. You remember what she said on the rare occasions you confided in her about your frustrations with Willis: Of course a man isn’t going to want you bothering him with your feelings when he’s had a hard day at work. Of course a man—after you’ve had his baby, after you almost died to do it—is going to be crossing off days on the calendar until you can have sex again. He keeps a roof over your head and he never hits you, what more could you ask for? “What about Cadi? What if she grows up thinking that her marriage vows don’t mean anything? It’s the foundation of society, marriage. If that goes, everything goes.”

It’s the foundation of a lot of coercion and unfairness and misery, that’s for sure. “I wouldn’t want Cadi to stay in a situation that makes her unhappy. Would you?”

Your mother throws her hands up, like you’ve told her you’re converting to communism and catching the next flight to the USSR. “Life isn’t just about happiness, sweetheart! It’s about commitment, it’s about responsibility! If everyone did what they wanted all the time, no one would stay married!”

“Maybe that speaks to the value of marriage as an institution.”

“And morality is already falling apart in this country,” your mother continues, ignoring you. That’s what she does when she can’t refute facts, logic, evidence. “Young people living together, women having babies with two or three different men, people doing drugs, people on Welfare, people shooting and stabbing each other, sex shops everywhere, naughty magazines at gas stations, men wanting to marry other men—”

“Okay, Mama. I really have to go now.”

“Alright, I’ll shut up. I will, I will, I swear.” She makes peace with a brisk kiss to your cheek like a stamp on an envelope. “Enjoy a nice quiet night to yourself. Do you have any plans?”

Well, Mama, I’m trying to resist the temptation to call my engaged dominant oil tycoon not-boyfriend and tell him to come over for kinky adulterous sex. “Not really. I’ll probably take a bubble bath and then watch something Cadi would think is boring, like 20/20.” You hand over the bakery box, and your mother’s face lights up.

“Grasshopper pie?!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You know it’s hard for me to make it myself anymore. This rheumatoid arthritis, it’s got me all twisted up.” She nods down to where her fingers grip the box, knobby and increasingly useless.

“When’s your next appointment?”

“I’ve got one in…oh…about three weeks, I think. I’d have to check my daybook. All the way over in New Orleans with some specialist that Dr. Cormier recommended.”

“Okay. Want me to go with you?”

“Yes, that’d be fine.” It would be more than fine; she wants you to go, though she won’t say it. You aren’t sure if she doesn’t want to impose or doesn’t want to admit how reliant she’s becoming upon you, like growing up in reverse.

“Mawmaw!” Cadi shouts from inside the house. “Hurry up! I want to watch Predator!”

“You quit your hollering, I’ll be right there!” Then your mother looks to you and offers one last piece of very unsolicited advice. “Just be kind to Willis, alright? Give him a chance. I don’t think he’ll ever find a woman he likes as much as you. That’s what everyone says.”

“Mama, he has no idea who I am.” And he’s not interested either.

“Sure he does. You’re the mother of his child, and you always will be. Maybe you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“I’ll think about it.” You definitely won’t. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“So long.” She shuffles into the house, and once she’s shut the door you hear her muffled voice: “Arcadia, come on over here and help me slice up this pie…”

You drive home with the windows down and blasting St. Elmo’s Fire. There’s still an hour or two of sunlight left; the world is painted in gold and blood orange, the soybeans, the sugarcane, the grass growing tall and wild, the Spanish moss swinging from the trees, the earth ripening as its revolution hurtles towards the apex of summer. Cadi is out of school until August. Amir will be announcing his looming departure to San Francisco. Aemond will be getting married.

The adolescent alligator that Aemond is so afraid of is in the far corner of the front yard, basking in the last of the daylight. You walk into your room, flop down on the bed, lie there staring longingly at the pink phone on your nightstand. You reach to pick it up, then stop yourself. Aemond hasn’t fucked you, hasn’t kissed you, has rarely touched you at all since you found out about Christabel. But he stops by your house and invites you to his; he stitches himself into your life like someone somewhere once sutured his face back together.

I can’t. It’s wrong. He’s engaged.

Aemond doesn’t know you’re home alone. It’s Friday, and usually Cadi would be here with you until tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s not really cheating until he’s married. I mean, if Aemond and Christabel aren’t sleeping together, if they almost never see each other…is it even a real relationship?

Wistful thinking, yes, denial, yes; but with each passing minute your resolve not to pick up the phone weakens.

We don’t have much longer until the wedding. Our time is slipping away.

He’s a robber baron. He’s arrogant, he’s delusional.

And I want him. I still do, and I can’t stop.

The phone rings. You sit up, startled. It’s not Aemond, you tell yourself so you won’t be disappointed when it isn’t him. But it is.

“Hi,” Aemond says; he sounds out of breath. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s okay, Cadi is actually having a sleepover with my mom. They’re watching Predator. My mom has no idea what it’s about, she’ll be clutching that Bible she got signed by Jerry Falwell a little extra hard tonight. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound random, but…you haven’t seen Aegon, have you? He hasn’t shown up at your house, he hasn’t called? You don’t know where he is?”

Aegon? Why would I know anything about what Aegon’s doing right now? “Um, no…?”

A long exhale, a lull that’s full of dread.

“Aemond, what’s going on?”

“He and my father got into it a few hours ago. They were screaming at each other, kicking furniture over, which isn’t all that unusual, honestly. But then Aegon ran away.”

“Wait, like, he’s gone…?”

“He stormed out the back door, went down to the lake, and then headed north into the trees. And I assumed he’d be back by now, but it’s getting dark and he’s not here. He never came home. His Porsche is still sitting in the driveway.” There is a pause. “I think he’s out there.”

“Out where?”

“In the woods,” Aemond says, shellshocked, terrified. “In the bayou.”

Your eyes dart to the window; the golden daylight is dwindling. “Aemond, he can’t be alone in the bayou. It’s dangerous. He could die. There aren’t just alligators, there are wild boars, cottonmouths, copperheads, snapping turtles, brown recluses, fire ants, I don’t think there are any black bears this far south but it’s always possible, he could drown, he could get trapped in quicksand, you cannot let Aegon spend the night out there.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You’re not used to hearing this in Aemond’s voice: the panic, the vulnerability. “No one else seems worried. They said he disappears all the time, and that’s true. They’re convinced he’s found his way to a strip club or a Waffle House or something and will drag himself home eventually. No one will listen to me. My father has forbidden me from getting anyone else involved. He doesn’t want gossip getting around town and overshadowing the new rig project or…you know. The wedding thing. My wedding. And I can go over his head, sure, I can make calls, but when investigators show up here to start searching my father is just going to tell them to leave. How is it even possible to find Aegon? At night in a fucking swamp? Is anyone going to be willing to go out there before morning? Do I need people with bloodhounds or a helicopter?”

No way, you think as soon as the idea hits you. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. “I can think of someone who knows their way around the bayou.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just after 7 p.m. when Willis arrives to pick you up: grinning smugly, mullet fluffed, Plymouth Gran Fury hauling his brand new 20-foot jon boat. He’s dressed for night fishing in boots, camo-colored waders, and a grey hoodie with SHERIFF printed across the front in black letters. You climb into the passenger seat wearing sneakers, denim shorts, and a blue raincoat over your Pepsi t-shirt. You haven’t been fishing since you were married to Willis, and you’ve never missed it. It’s a grisly business: hooks through lips, hooks through eyeballs, hooks swallowed and tangled up in some doomed creature’s guts.

Aemond is waiting at the mouth of the Targaryens’ driveway, just out of sight of the mansion they call The Last Desire. He gets in the back seat and sits there testily with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, glaring out the window as an indistinct blur of primeval vegetation passes by outside. He has on his Marlboro jacket, light-wash jeans, and Adidas sneakers. You hope he doesn’t ruin them; although you suppose he can always buy more. He could buy a hundred more, a thousand more, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You can’t fathom what it’s like to live that way. It seems to conflict with all the laws of man and nature.

Aemond speaks grudgingly to Willis, a quick flat statement that invites no conversation. He didn’t call Willis to explain the situation, you did. You’re afraid to leave them alone with each other. You aren’t sure who would be more likely to end up a corpse decomposing in the muddy silt at the bottom of Lake Verret. “Thank you for agreeing to help with this.”

Willis chuckles warmly, either oblivious to Aemond’s prickliness or unbothered by it. “Bien sur! It’s my job, son. We’ll hunt your brother down.” Then he glances over at you, smirking, prying. “So, sugar…how’d you two make each other’s acquaintance?”

“Amir and I baked the cakes for his engagement party.”

“Engagement party, huh?” Willis looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “You gettin’ married?”

Aemond is still staring out the window. “Obviously.”

“So you ain’t single?”

“Legally, I am in fact single until the day the marriage license is signed.”

Willis returns his attention to you. “So he ain’t the petit ami you’ve been so secretive about.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Willis. I really can’t be more clear than that.”

“Oh, I know you got one. I know all your looks, sugar. Some days you come ‘round my office lookin’ lovesick, like you’re just a-floatin’ on a cloud. Other days you’re real mean, like you don’t want me takin’ none of your time, like you got somebody more important to spend it on. And then sometimes you just look…” He smiles, mischievous. “Well, how can I put it? Satisfied. The cat who ate the canary. And I recall exactly what that looks like on you. It’s been a while, sure. But I remember.”

From the back seat, Aemond sighs irritably. You say to Willis: “Can we please focus on finding Aegon?”

“Sois calme, sois calme. That’s why I’m here. We’ll be in the water in ten minutes.”

There is no more discussion; the only sound is the radio, Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler. Willis turns onto a winding dirt road that leads to a boat launch about a mile from the Targaryens’ property. He spins his Plymouth Gran Fury around and backs it down the concrete ramp towards the rippling, slow-moving currents of Lake Verret. It’s difficult to see from the driver’s seat—most people would have someone get out to guide them—but Willis knows the way by heart. He’s been on boats since before he could walk; Willis’ daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy did too, all the way back to before the Louisiana Purchase. Your family are newer arrivals (relatively speaking), having only been in Napoleonville for about 100 years and keeping mostly to the town. You remember your 11th grade science teacher saying once that alligators have been around since before the dinosaurs went extinct. Maybe that’s what Willis is: a relic of a distant time and species, afflicted with a cunning ruggedness that won’t allow his kind to go extinct.

When the trailer is mostly underwater, Willis gets out of the car to unhook the straps that keep the boat moored to it. You go outside to help and Aemond follows, though he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never handled a boat this size and it shows; perhaps a yacht would be more his speed. He stands aside and watches, frowning, hands buried in the pockets of his Marlboro jacket. His lack of expertise riles him. He’s not used to being the incapable one. He hates not having control.

Willis already has a tow rope tied to a metal handle at the bow of the jon boat; he lifts it out and gives the free end to Aemond. “Hold onto that, will ya? Don’t let her get away.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies ungenerously. Willis returns to his Plymouth Gran Fury to finish backing the trailer into the lake until the boat floats. Standing on the shore together, you and Aemond stare at each other, unable to speak honestly, unable to decide what you’d say even if you could.

The jon boat bobs in the water, and you show Aemond how to pull it away from the trailer using the tow rope. Willis drives the trailer back onto dry land, parks his car in a flat area near the boat launch, and then joins you and Aemond by the water’s edge. He walks to where the boat is floating just to the right side of the concrete ramp and, with some difficulty, clambers inside as the boat rocks under his weight. Then he stands in the middle of it and gestures for you to approach. “Let’s get goin’, sugar.”

You take Willis’ hands when he reaches for you and let him help you into the jon boat. When you stumble over a bench seat, he steadies you with a hand on your waist, familiar but in no way erotic; not for you, at least. Still, from where he is standing on the lakeshore with the tow rope, Aemond glowers venomously.

“Your turn, son,” Willis calls to him, winking. “And I promise not to get too sweet with ya.”

But Aemond doesn’t need any assistance to board the vessel. He has long limbs, good balance, and an ironclad determination not to let Willis see him falter. Aemond sits at the bow of the boat. You claim a spot in the middle. Willis takes a seat at the stern, starts the outboard motor, and guides the boat into the treacherous swampland that lurks like a stalking animal at the edges of Lake Verret.

In the bayou, the water is sluggish, currentless, thick with vivid green salvinia and duckweed. Towering bald cypress trees grow out of the opaque depths and are adorned with greyish, anemic bundles of Spanish moss like spiderwebs. Mangrove trees with their myriad of semi-submerged roots are sanctuaries for catfish, turtles, baby alligators. Larger gators—as big as the female that lives in your yard, and some up to seven or eight feet—prowl with only their nostrils and ancient yellow eyes peeking out from under the water. Great blue herons tiptoe along the shallow shoreline and stab at fish that unknowingly flit between their long skeletal legs. Cicadas shriek in the trees so loudly they almost drown out the hum of the boat’s motor. When the last of the daylight vanishes, Willis tells Aemond to turn on the spotlight mounted to the bow, and the water becomes a soupy, greenish, primordial witch’s brew beneath its glow. Aemond lights a cigarette and puffs on it as he ponders this alien corner of the world that he’s found himself in.

Willis has a number of items stowed on the flat aluminum floor of the boat, you notice now: nets, paddles in case the motor fails, bottles of water, ropes, fishing poles, flashlights, hunting knives, a few sturdy wooden walking sticks. He’s wearing his sheriff’s pistol on a belt fastened over his waders. This makes you uneasy, though you can’t recall ever seeing him use it. It seems wrong to be able to end a life with so little effort.

“Aegon!” Aemond shouts from the bow, using a flashlight to look to the sides of the boat where the spotlight’s luminescence doesn’t shine so brightly. You grab your own flashlight to help him search. “Aegon! Where are you?!”

There’s something burning in your nose and throat as you lean over the side of the boat to peer into the shadowy wilderness. Salt, you realize, but that doesn’t make any sense. Lake Verret is a freshwater lake. You turn towards where Willis is steering the boat with the rumbling gas-powered motor. “Do you smell that?”

“Yup. Sure do.”

“But…how��?”

“One of the rigs mighta hit a salt dome while they were drillin’, I figure,” Willis says. “There’s been talk for years that we got salt domes under the lake. But that don’t stop these oil companies.” He stares meaningfully at Aemond. Aemond glances back, rather abashed. “And ya know what that means. If the water turns brackish, most of the fish’ll die. And who’s got to live with that for generations to come? Not the Targaryens or the Rockefellers, that’s for sure.”

Aemond resumes shouting for his wayward eldest brother. A dark snake, perhaps six feet long, slithers down the length of the boat through the murky water. “Aegon! Aegon!”

“What did he and Viserys argue about?” you ask.

Aemond is cagy. “It’s…kind of personal.”

“Personal like he got a stripper pregnant or personal like he murdered someone in a drunken hit-and-run?”

“Neither. But closer to the first option.” Then he roars into the darkness: “Aegon!”

“Maybe the bon a rien already found his way back home,” Willis says. “Maybe—”

And then there is an echo through the bayou, faint but vaguely human, a ghost, a phantom. “Aegon!” Aemond shouts back. “Where are you?!” Willis cuts the boat engine so you can hear the reply.

Faintly, very faintly, his disembodied voice drifts out of the trees. “Over here! Help me! Quickly! Seriously, really really quickly!!”

“Keep talking!” Aemond yells. Willis is listening intently, trying to pinpoint a direction. His thick, dark eyebrows are knit together in concentration that is rare for him.

Barely audible over the screams of the cicadas: “What the fuck am I supposed to say?! Just get over here and save me!”

“We’re trying to figure out where your voice is coming from, so don’t stop talking!”

“Help me! Come help me!! Right now!! My arms are getting tired!!”

“What? What are you doing with your arms?!”

“I got him,” Willis says. He restarts the motor and steers the boat down a narrow corridor of the swamp. The path is only about ten yards wide and bordered by mangrove trees with nests of exposed, labyrinthian roots. The water is probably relatively shallow: five feet, ten feet, just deep enough for secrets. The breeze is cool and wet, almost chilly. On the shore, you spy a snapping turtle the size of a golden retriever. Its long prehistoric claws are coated with mud and green blades of marsh grass. It ogles you as if to say: What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. This is where the dinosaurs that survived the asteroid live.

“Aegon?” Aemond calls.

“Here! Over here! I can see you, I see the lights! Oh my God, I’m not gonna die! Thank you Jesus!”

Aemond laughs in relief. “I didn’t think you two knew each other.”

“Shut up and save me, you muppet!”

And then you see Aegon—the spotlight hits him, he is illuminated in a stark white glow—and your stomach plummets, your blood goes cold. In an alcove of the bayou, right where the water meets the shore, Aegon is up in a bald cypress tree. He’s about five feet off the ground and standing on top of a branch just thick enough to hold his weight. It’s too narrow to balance comfortably on; he is hugging the trunk to ensure he doesn’t fall, and a fall would be catastrophic. Sprawled on the muck surrounding the base of the tree are a plethora of alligators, all approximately ten feet in length. That’s big enough to be lethal humans. That would be big enough to kill a bear, a horse, a shark. When the spotlight shines on them, the gators begin to squirm and hiss, glaring with soulless reptilian wrath at the boat. Willis shuts off the motor, and the boat bobs placidly.

“Oh, fuck,” Aemond says.

“Yeah, exactly!” Aegon pitches back. He’s wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny turquoise blue shorts. He is barefoot. “So what’s the plan?! By the way, hey, cake lady.”

“Hi, Aegon.”

Aemond says: “How the hell did you get up there?”

“I was pissed off about the dad thing and I was walking for a long time, then I realized I was probably in the wrong neighborhood for someone with two legs and no desire to get eaten. I tried to find my way back but then these pig-looking things started chasing me and I freaked out and climbed up here to hide until they left. But as the sun went down, alligators started showing up. And the more time went by, the more alligators there were. And that’s the whole story, can you get me down now?!”

Aemond asks Willis, petrified: “How do we get him down?”

Willis surveys the scene for a moment, thinking. “Alright. Here’s what I reckon. We can toss him one end of a rope and he can tie it to the branch above him, right at the base where it’s real thick. Then we’ll hold the other end of the rope, and he can kinda shimmy on down it into the boat.”

Aegon says: “But what if right before I get to the boat, when I’m like four feet above the water, an alligator jumps out and bites me?”

“They don’t usually do that,” Willis replies.

“Usually?!”

“Look, we don’t have a lot of options,” Aemond tells his brother. “We can do the rope plan now, or we can leave you here, backtrack all the way to the boat launch, get the car, get some help, and hope they magically have a better solution for you. Or you can wait up there until morning to see if the alligators leave. You pick.”

“Isn’t that the hick sheriff guy? Can’t he shoot them?”

“Gators got brains ‘bout the size of a walnut, son,” Willis says. “And if I don’t hit ‘em where it counts, I’m just gonna make them angrier. That ain’t good for any of us.”

“Okay,” Aegon concedes. “Throw me a rope.”

Willis grabs one from the bottom of the jon boat, hands an end to Aemond, and tosses the other to Aegon. It takes the eldest Targaryen boy four attempts to catch it; the rope keeps falling and smacking the hissing alligators in the face before Willis lugs it back to the boat to try again. Once he finally obtains the rope, Aegon knots it—double, triple, quadruple—around where the branch above him, just barely within reach if he stretches as far as he can, meets the massive trunk of the bald cypress tree. Willis tells Aemond: “Now ya gotta hold the rope real tight. No slack at all, or it’ll dip and he’ll end up in a gator’s lap.”

“Yeah, Aemond!” Aegon says, his voice shaky. “No slack!”

“Got it.” Aemond loops his end of the rope around his waist, makes a knot, and then grips it with both hands and tugs it until it forms a straight diagonal line from the tree to the boat.

“Ya sure you wanna do that?” Willia says softly, nodding to Aemond’s waist. “If somethin’ goes wrong and he ends up in the water, you’ll be goin’ in with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alrighty.” Willis grabs one of the heavy wooden walking sticks from the aluminum floor of the boat. “If a gator tries to cause a problem, I’ll whack ‘em good. Don’t let ‘em get their jaws ‘round ya, not an arm or a leg or nothin’. If they get ahold of ya, they’ll roll and rip your bones right outta the sockets.”

“Awesome,” Aegon says from the tree. “I’m so glad you told me that. Yeah. Great. Any more super helpful alligator trivia, Sasquatch?”

“Yes sir. If one chomps down on ya, poke it in the eye with your fingers. A whack to the snout or a poke to the eye is the best way outta a gator’s mouth.”

Aegon gulps and clutches the rope, steeling himself.

“What should I do?” you ask Willis. “Should I get a stick too—?”

“Nothin’. You don’t do nothin’. You just sit down right in the middle and keep the boat steady. And if your petit ami starts goin’ overboard, maybe try to snatch him. But don’t ya fall in. Ya don’t want to be in that water. If there are gators above the water, there are gators below too. I guarantee it.”

You sit in the precise middle of the boat, using your weight to reinforce the vessel’s center of gravity as Aemond and Willis stand at opposing ends. Right before Aegon begins his descent, Aemond snags your attention. He makes a motion with one hand, a slicing, a prohibition. Don’t do anything insane, he means. Don’t risk trying to drag me back into the boat if I start going over.

“Whenever ya ready, bon a rien,” Willis says. And no one else but you knows that what he’s calling Aegon is a good-for-nothing.

Aegon begins scurrying down the length of the rope, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the bobbing jon boat. He passes above the hissing gators congregating at the base of the bald cypress tree and then over the water, where there are ripples that multiply out from epicenters and flashes of movement just beneath the surface but no homicidal alligator activity. When Aegon nears the boat, Willis seizes him and helps him into it; and then Aegon ruptures into hysterical giggles.

“I almost died, can you believe that?” he asks Aemond, who is untying the rope from his waist and beaming, the first real smile you’ve seen from him tonight. “Because I ran away from Viserys?! What an idiotic way to go. I’ll never let that bastard convince me to off myself. I gotta outlive him. I gotta do Jello shots on that motherfucker’s grave someday.”

“Yeah, you do,” Aemond agrees, squeezing Aegon’s shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Willis grumbles. He’s using his walking stick to jab at the water near the rear of the boat. “We’re hooked on a mangrove root or something.”

“Do you need help?” Aemond asks, headed towards him.

“Yes sir, if you’d be so kind. I don’t…I can’t see…what the hell is it stuck to?”

“The motor…? The blades of the motor?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re right. Yup. There it is. We musta drifted into it while we were preoccupied. Okay, we gotta push the boat off the root and then we can get movin’ again. Grab a stick, let’s start pushin’.”

“Should I get a stick too?” Aegon says, joining them. “I can hit stuff with sticks. I really want to get out of here…”

There’s a bit of a commotion at the back of the boat as the men try to propel it away from the mangrove tree. Willis is complaining that the water is too deep to touch the bottom with his stick. Aemond’s stick keeps slipping off the mangrove roots when he tries to get leverage. You aren’t sure what Aegon is contributing, if anything. The boat has begun to rock.

You look to the tree where Aegon had been imprisoned. The alligators are fully awake now; they are headed into the water and disappearing there, unseen, unheard, and yet all around you.

“I think we need to go now,” you say, but no one is listening to you. They’re still wrestling with the mangrove root. You rise, taking a few steps to the left to offset the boat’s listing towards the right. “Guys, we need to—”

The boat is freed from its organic jailor and lurches sharply towards the left. As the men cheer triumphantly—completely unaware of what’s happening—you are jolted off your feet and tumble backwards over the side of the boat.

The shock of hitting the water stuns you. It is cold and impossibly dark; when you open your eyes to try to find the surface, the boat, you can’t see anything. You paddle blindly. Something brushes your leg, and you scream bubbles of mute terror. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you are picturing those ten-foot gators slinking into the water that you’re now thrashing wildly through. You swim towards what you think is the surface and strike unyielding metal—the underbelly of the boat—hard enough to put stars in your skull like the flashes of lightning bugs. You get turned around and don’t know where you are again. Something glides past your arm, and you gasp before remembering that there’s no air. Dark water—salt and silt and decomposition—surges into your lungs, your stomach, sinking you like an anchor from within. There is a whirlpool of motion around you and muffled shouting. Then something closes around your wrist.

The eyes! you think frantically. I have to poke out its eyes!

But the vice around your flesh has no teeth. It’s not a reptilian jaw, you realize now, but a human hand. It leads you and you obey.

When you break the surface, you cough bayou water from your throat and blink it out of your eyes. Willis is leaning over the side of the boat and stabbing at gators with his stick, shrieking at them in French. One lunges at him from the water, jaws snapping. Willis whips the pistol off his belt, aims it squarely between the creature’s eyes, and fires. The boom is deafening; the bleeding gator sinks into the water. Aegon is kneeling in the boat and offering his arms to help you climb up.

You look beside you. Aemond is barely keeping his head above water. “Go!” he orders you. “Get in the boat!”

With Aegon’s help, you heave yourself over the side and collapse to the aluminum floor, lungs aching, skull pounding, heart thudding mercilessly, soaked to the skin. Then you force yourself to your hands and knees to see where Aemond is.

“Aemond?!” Aegon is yelling. “Aemond, where are you?!”

He’s gone; you don’t see him in the water. You try to scream for him too, but the water still in your throat strangles you. Your hands close around the edge of the boat, and Willis grabs your raincoat to yank you backwards. “Other side!” says, pointing. “We’re gonna capsize, we need weight on the other side, go there!”

You scramble to the opposite end of the boat, sobbing now, still hacking up muddy water. Where’s Aemond?? Where is he??

Both Willis and Aegon are grasping for something. They’re shouting and stabbing into the water with their walking sticks. And then they’re hauling him into the boat: Aemond, blood pouring down the left side of his face, a gash by his temple, another on his forehead; something bit him or clawed him. He’s wearing only his jeans and a white tank top; he ripped off his Marlboro jacket before diving in after you. You don’t see his Adidas sneakers anywhere. They must have been kicked off in the water. His glass eye has been knocked out and lost in the muck. What’s left in its place is a void, gaping, pink; it’s difficult to look at, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. It has the visceral, gory quality of organs never meant to be seen. His fingertips go to the socket to feel for his prosthetic. When he confirms it isn’t there, he covers his face with his hands and moans.

He saved me. He jumped in after me.

You crawl to him. “Aemond—”

“No!” He pushes you away, and you see that there’s blood and ancient silt from the bayou in his empty eye socket. It will have to be cleaned out. Willis watches, astonished, bewildered. For once, he is at a loss for words.

“Aemond, please…” You’d do anything to help him. You don’t know how to help him.

He saved me.

Aegon reaches for Aemond. “Hey, hey. It’s not that bad. Hey…” He drops to his knees, presses his forehead against Aemond’s, stains himself with his brother’s blood. And when Aemond tries to pull away, Aegon doesn’t let him; he’s got his fingers tangled in Aemond’s wet hair. “Thank you for saving me. I’m always almost getting myself killed and you’re always saving me. What would I do without you, huh? None of us would be okay without you. Thank you, Aemond. You hear me? You’re not gonna get this again anytime soon, so listen up. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’m just so—”

“I know.”

“I hate that I’m like this.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’ll order a new one.”

“You know what he’s going to say.”

“Fuck him. Why do you care what he thinks? Because you think he’s the one who gets to decide what you’re worth? He isn’t. He’s not qualified.”

Aemond nods, but he doesn’t seem to be convinced. He still doesn’t look at you. He turns so the left side of his face—bloodied, eyeless—is angled towards the water and out of your view. Willis goes to the motor, starts it, and begins guiding the boat back towards the launch where he parked his Plymouth Gran Fury.

Aegon glances over at you. “You okay, cake lady?”

“Yeah.” But your voice shakes. The rest of you is shaking too; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you can feel that you’re shivering in your wet clothes.

“Put it on,” Aemond says softly, and at first you don’t understand. Then you see that he’s pointing to his Marlboro jacket, left hurriedly flung on the floor of the boat. You unzip your dripping raincoat and don Aemond’s Marlboro jacket instead. It smells like him: smoke, cologne, effort, secrets.

“Thank you,” you tell him, wanting to say more. Aemond doesn’t answer. He stares into the murky water, greenish under the glare of the spotlight, and says nothing to anyone all the way back to the boat launch. Wordlessly, he helps Willis re-hitch the jon boat to the trailer. He remembers the steps. He’s a fast learner. The blood on his face is drying; his right eye won’t allow itself to look at you. The only sound on the drive to the Targaryens’ mansion is the radio of the Plymouth Gran Fury, which Willis turns up to cover the silence: In A Big Country.

At the end of the cobblestone driveway, lights are on in the vast house called The Last Desire. Everyone gets out of the car. Willis shakes a rather puzzled Aegon’s hand, then turns to Aemond, who ignores him. Willis chuckles, more curious than offended.

“So ya are the man who’s been givin’ her that satisfied look. I knew it. Yes, I knew what I saw. What’s your secret, son? Ya must really know your way around a woman if ya got her so mad about ya with a face like that. Ya look like the Rougarou got ahold of ya—”

Aemond grabs Willis by his hoodie, yanks him off his feet, jacks him up against the side of the sheriff’s vehicle. Immediately, you and Aegon are shouting and trying to break them apart.

You plead: “Aemond, don’t!”

“Aemond, he’s got a gun!” Aegon screeches.

Fortunately, Willis isn’t grappling for his pistol. He holds both palms in the air, open and empty, like he’s surrendering; but there’s still a smile on his face. Aemond doesn’t act like he’s heard anyone. He leans in close to Willis, his voice low and dark and snarling, his sole blue eye glinting. “You had so much in your filthy fucking hands and you just threw it away.” Then he slams Willis against the car one more time, tears away from him, and strides up the porch steps and into the house.

Aegon hurries after him, casting you a quick glance and a beckoning wave. It’s an invitation. You coming? Aegon mouths, and then vanishes inside.

Willis peers up at the house: stained glass windows, immense white columns. You don’t see any signs of Vhagar the Great Dane. Willis speaks calmly and without looking at you. “I think he’s in love with you, sugar.”

Improbable. Impossible. If he was, he couldn’t marry someone else. “He’s not.”

Now Willis’ eyes flick to you. “All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve been fishin’ on that lake since as long as I can remember, day, night, sun, storms, and nothin’ on earth would have gotten me to jump into that water. Not even Heather Locklear herself.”

“Just go, Willis,” you say, exhausted, heartsick. “Thank you for what you did tonight. But please go now.”

“How ya gonna get home?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of that, I am incapable,” Willis drawls. Then he climbs into his Plymouth Gran Fury and is gone. You sprint up the porch steps in your soggy sneakers, searching for Aemond.

In the white-and-gold foyer, Viserys is just arriving. He struts across the marble floor until he is close enough to his two oldest sons to embrace them, to hit them, to extract their teeth with his knuckles. The others pour through the doorways—Alicent, Criston, Helaena, Daeron, Otto—but while they gape in horror and fascination, they don’t speak in anything more than murmurs amongst themselves. Viserys steals only a glimpse of Aegon, swift and disinterested, then examines Aemond: wet clothes, no shoes, grime and blood, dazed fury. When his cool, pale gaze reaches Aemond’s empty eye socket, Viserys flinches and looks away.

“So you lost another prosthetic,” is all he says. His face twists into a grimace. And you expect Aemond to do something, to jab back, but he doesn’t. He’s frozen, he’s paralyzed. His right eye is misty. He’s biting his lips so they don’t tremble. And suddenly you hate Viserys Targaryen, you hate him more than you can imagine hating anyone. You think that you could watch his entrails unspooled from his body without feeling a thing. The Targaryen family patriarch hasn’t spoken to you; you don’t register to him at all. You might as well be an oriental vase or a house plant.

“You’re the one who did it, Viserys,” Aegon says, stepping in front of Aemond seething and sharp like a blade. “You remember that part? I do. I remember. The North Sea, 1968. I remember him trotting around after you, always so desperate to prove himself, always doing anything you asked, anything you could dream up, worshipping you like you were God. And where were you when he was getting his eye socket debrided at Moorfields Hospital? In fact, where were you when he got his hands caught in a winch when he was eleven? Where were you when he fell off a pipe deck and broke six ribs because one of your idiot employees forgot to close a safety gate and he couldn’t see it? Where were you then? Where are you now?”

Viserys scowls down at him—revolted, repelled—but he doesn’t reply. He feels no instinct to defend himself. He is unable to internalize shame; it rolls off him like raindrops.

“You’d love me so much if I was dead,” Aegon says, grinning, baring his teeth like an animal. “How sick is that? You can love bones in a box, but not someone standing right in front of you. You love Aemma, a ghost. You love Baelon, and you never even knew him. You’ve got nothing for me. That’s fine, I don’t care, I’ll be alright without you.” He points to Aemond. “But you’ve got nothing for him either, and he’s everything you always wanted. You’re disgusting, you’re broken. You belong in a box too. The part of you that was human is gone. I don’t give a fuck about what’s left.”

Aegon shoves Viserys, hard, and then storms past him. As he crosses into the kitchen, Helaena grabs for his wrist. You can hear her whisper: “What the hell happened?!”

Then Aegon remembers one last thing. He whirls around and bellows at Viserys, his voice reverberating off the vaulted ceilings: “And I’m not getting my vasectomy reversed! You can’t make me! It’s bioethics! I asked the lawyer!” He stomps off and disappears, Helaena in tow.

Alicent shoots Viserys a hateful glare and then flees from the foyer, her long auburn ringlets streaming out behind her. Viserys goes in the opposite direction. Daeron and Otto share an awkward glance and then depart as well. Only you, Criston, and Aemond remain in the room, surrounded by treasures that might as well be handfuls of earth, flour, swamp water, salt.

Cautiously, Criston lays a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, on his right side where he can see it. “Aemond…”

“Don’t touch me,” Aemond says as he wrenches away. He leaves like a hurricane, like a flood, receding until there remains only wreckage and memory.

Criston sighs deeply, and then he asks you: “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t respond. You haven’t decided how to yet. You stare at the place where Aemond stood, a void like a star that died out. Do I follow him upstairs? you think.

Do I?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond

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gunthermunch · 1 year

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[Transcript under the cut]

Ernest: 'he says many words when in a good mood. some of them i have to chew harder than others. i already noticed he's quite the deep guy. always mentioning foreign knowledge from who knows when and yet… he's never had chamomile tea. personally, i would give all the knowledge and heavy words in the world for some chamomile tea.' Gunther: dad? Ernest: yes, Hans Moleman? Gunther: dinner's ready. and don't call me that, it's disrespectful. Ernest: alright just a minute. Gunther: hm! what are you writing about Ernest: things and stuff. Gunther: you're not funny! Gunther: oh. it's the same old stuff from before. Ernest: i told you, young yet old grasshopper, Things and stuff Gunther: yeah but… when are you going to make something new? vampires are starting to get old you know Ernest: well! when did my son get so judgemental? Gunther: when i learned how to read. Gunther: uh oh Ernest: WOOOO!! Gunther: my HEAD. Ernest: GUNTHY COME ON! Gunther: ugh. daaaaad!!! Ernest: just this once, okay? a little dance for your old man? Gunther: fiine! i guess! but mom's gonna kill us both forever! Ernest: for what i am concerned, right now we are just two guys having fun.

#hi welcome to part three prologue welcome welcome #ts4 #munch #gunther munch #ernest munch #woa. WOA OKAY #prologue

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minamorsart · 4 months

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🌌✨The Empyreal Within character designs of Lotor, Allura, and Ven'tar! I might do Honerva and Zarkon next, we'll see! This is part of an upcoming project that I am super excited about and will reveal in time!!! 💜

Explanations of the outfits below! I thought about them a LOT hehe.

18 year old Lotor: these designs I am the most pleased with! Lotor's official design in the show is very different from the rest of the Galra, which I believe is significant to him venturing further away from the precedents established by his father and cementing his own individuality. However, as an adolescent it makes sense that he would still wear Galra attire, hence the bulky armor (to make him look bigger since he is smaller than the average Galra) and red and gold colors which appear to only be worn by the royal family. I like to think that the insignia on his chest is a symbol for royalty, but is also exclusive to Lotor's identity, as no one else wears that particular insignia in the show. And despite wearing clothes specifically chosen to represent the Galra Empire, I can also picture him wanting to incorporate his own personal tastes, so there are accents of purplish-blue (as blue is part of Lotor's color scheme) and the addition of his waist cape, both of which represent his growing desire for change and independence.

Mid-20's Lotor: this is during the many years of his banishment. I imagine him hopping from planet to planet, concealing his identity as much as possible while adopting a more humble lifestyle and pursuing his passion for exploring. It is during this isolated pilgrimage that he does a lot of introspection, self-actualization, and gains self-confidence both as a man and as the Galra prince. But before that happens, the lack of identity really shows in his clothes -- lots of neutral colors (with a hint of desaturated blue), absence of any insignias or designs that would connect him to any culture, whether Galra or Altean. These clothes in particular were inspired by Jedi ponchos and Sasuke from Naruto: The Last, and perhaps are worn while Lotor is on a desert planet for a short time! And just like with his armor as seen in the show, he has started to wear gloves to cover himself up almost completely, indicating his avoidance of vulnerability and getting close to others.

Ven'tar: for her fortunately I didn't have to change much about her character design! She is Lotor's age when they meet and the only other change I made to her was to take away her big cape so that she appears younger. Since her planet and species name is not revealed in the show, I want to come up with one myself. Caelifera is the scientific name for grasshopper, so I'm thinking I could do something with that!

11 year old Lotor: this design is also taken directly from the show, so I didn't have to do much there :P The cloak he wears in the little doodle is inspired by the one adult Lotor wears in S6E4. In this case, however, it is several sizes too big for young Lotor and drags on the ground.

Allura: sadly we don't know much about Allura's life on Altea, however in S1E9 we get to see tiny snippets of different stages throughout her life and her good relationship with her father, so I used those as references! I gave her braids, short puffy sleeves, and a slightly shorter skirt to give her that innocent little princess look, and then used the colors from her dress in the show to create a cuter and more childlike aesthetic!

If you read all of that you're the best 😆🙏 I'm definitely by no means an expert in character design and have lots more to learn, but I had a lot of fun coming up with the original designs! Especially Lotor's, but no surprise there hehe. I studied many different Galra armor and clothing featured in the show worn by Lotor, Zarkon, Honerva, and Galra commanders. More than anything I just really wanted to see Lotor wearing something different for a change 😂 and then everything else took off from there!

#the empyreal within #dawn of empyreal #minamorsart #lotura #lotor #allura #ven'tar #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #voltron art #vld art #my art #fan art #digital art #non star wars art

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lilibethwrites · 8 months

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Bloody thou art; bloody will be thy end

Aemond Targaryen x OFC

Warnings: Angst, heavy violence, eventual smut, Targcest. This will be a very dark fic with potentially multiple disturbing or triggering elements. Each chapter will have warnings accordingly.

Summary: Rhaenyra’s firstborn daughter, Aelenore Velaryon is as vicious as she is ambitious. Growing up knowing she is a bastard and bitterly rejected by Prince Daemon, when she finds herself beginning to lose the favour of her family and infatuated with Aemond, an opportunity to earn more than any woman can have in the Seven Kingdoms presents itself. With a man as broken and wronged as herself, they burn everything around them to feel the warmth denied to them, even if their own flesh may catch on fire. Ambition and greed beget violence, and the blood of the dragon spills like wine.

Word count: 6k

Also on AO3

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

(Richard III, I.i.37–40)

It was a humid, scorching summer’s eve. The flowers of the royal garden had all turned shades of burned pigments heated over a candle for too long. Grasshoppers lay heavy where they had ceased flapping their wings. The nightingales that lent their name to the hour were quiet. It was only Princess Rhaenyra’s wails and groans peppered with curses and insults that echoed off the polished walls of the Red Keep. The heir to the throne, the beloved daughter of King Viserys has been in labour for so long that the younger Maesters made to stand back and observe behind the ranks of seniors and midwives began to whisper the long winter would come before the babe ever did.

Some wondered where Ser Laenor was, others remarked that it was the Breakbones pacing the hall beyond the door, and that it was rather odd that the Commander of the City Watch took such interest in the first labour of the princess.

But the babe came, persistent as she was in remaining in the womb as if she possessed prescience enough to know the realm she was brought into would have no joy to offer.

With the blood still on her, Rhaenyra cradled the babe to her bare chest, weeping and thanking the gods of old. Even a slight rub of her hand over the babe’s head was enough to furrow brows and a new wave of mumbling to rise as if dust after her dragon’s landing. Dark hair; unmistakably, uncharacteristically dark, like the night she was delivered. Dark hair, unlike the kind on the head of the second son Queen Alicent had recently delivered in a chamber nearby.

Ser Laenor was the first to see the babe, though she was cleaned and swaddled in an ornately embroidered blanket that could tear down and rebuild the entire Flea Bottom with how many yards of soft velvet and spools of gold threads it took to weave, then.

Then joined them Harwin Strong, and only then the babe was lifted from Rhaenyra’s arms, and given a name.

“Aelenore,” Rhaenyra said proudly, still keen on the name she had come across in a tome on Old Valyria while the babe was no bigger than a fig in her belly.

“Aelenore,” Ser Harwin Strong raised the babe to his chest and whispered in her ear as Ser Laenor looked on with a proud, warm smile.

By late morrow, King Viserys was cradling his first grandchild, a babe he hadn’t once found unlikely to be the fruit of the marriage he had imposed upon two young people with the blood of Valyria in their veins.

King Viserys blessed the babe’s name, with the swaddle in his arms and pride in his eyes.

“Princess Aelenore Velaryon,” he declared, “may her life be long and prosperous.”

He commended his daughter and her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon. Yet, Queen Alicent did not share the spirit of festivities. Having given birth to her third babe recently, another boy with the proud colours of Old Valyria, her brows creased when she beheld the babe in her husband’s arms.

Neither Aegon nor Aemond, the heirs Viserys so desperately desired that he would butcher his lover, were welcomed into the world as fervently as her husband’s first grandchild was by him.

The King was still in his prime, then, and he could pace the chamber with the babe in his arms until he grew restless, then, he would tour the shorter halls, stop by alcoves with stones warmed by the broiling sun. He accepted praises and well wishes from his court, with Rhaenyra still reclined on a chaise and Queen Alicent left alone with her.

“Congratulations,” she begrudgingly said at last.

The room was cold with resentment, and the bodies that filled it were all stiff like corpses washed ashore.

“My congratulations, as well,” Rhaenyra repaid the kindness, or the visage of it, just before Aelenore was returned.

“Rather short and without a fuss, mine own labour was,” the Queen spoke without patience at her stepdaughter’s nonchalant disregard of the rules of nature herself. Bastards were cursed, this, everyone knew. Bad omens; treacherous, sly, with deformed souls and frightening capacity for evil.

“And a rather unmistakable likeness to his sire, Aemond bears… Though, ‘tis only the first of yours,” she spoke disdainfully, then. The gentle tone with which she spoke couldn’t veil the anger stirring within her.

“I shall pray that the Gods will give you a babe that resembles… either of you next time.” Her smile was bitter, her eyes hostile.

Yet, the Gods didn’t. Next came a brother for Aelenore, with the same dark hair that tended to curl into ringlets. Aelenore gave up her toys, save for a wooden replica of her quickly growing dragon, to instead spend her waking hours near her brother. Not long after came Lucerys. Aelenore was grown enough then to participate in at least the first hour of the labour with her hand on her mother’s swollen belly. After that, she was hastily escorted out to wait along with the rest of the court. Such sights were not for a girl who would labour in a birthing bed of her own eventually.

Rhaenyra was not allowed to ever forget it, that her firstborn child was no true Targaryen, and none other that came after was any different. As if she knew from when she was a babe the meaning behind hushed whispers hidden with jewelled fingers and curious looks with thinly veiled disdain, Aelenore grew into a difficult character, unfriendly to all save her siblings.

It was King Viserys’s suggestion that the girl might enjoy playtime with a boy senior to her only by a year, and a quiet girl that never cried unless pinched or spooked. It was one of the rare times Viserys remembered at all that he had other children beyond his beloved Rhaenyra. So, Aelenore was brought with her basket of carved and painted toys to the chamber where Aegon, Helaena and Aemond were tended to. She sulked the entire time, ignoring her much-loved toys to attempt to rip the carpet out with her fingernails whenever she wasn’t attempting to decapitate her uncles with her eyes. She resented them, she suffered terribly from green-eyed jealousy that she spent all the hours thinking of all the ways she could upset the boys. She wondered if their hair would stain if she boiled flowers torn from the gardens, and dropped the concoction over their heads. She wondered if she could sneak a pair of scissors the next time royal seamstresses came to measure her for a new dress. She could chop a braid right off, or cut through the tomes the boy closer to her in age seemed to be mesmerised with. But, she never had another hour with them after the first few disastrous ones, and so her plans never came to fruition.

Aelenore surprised not a soul when she grew into a brooding young princess; quiet yet unsettling with eyes severe and pale as the smoke dancing over the sea. She was old enough to understand what it meant that her eyes were grey as a rainy morrow, and her hair dark as earth after the heavy clouds passed. She was swiftly assigned a Maester to be tutored in the proud history of her blood. She found it a rather cheap charade, and her lips were often twisted into an irreverent, lopsided smirk as the Maester harped on.

“I know what I am,” she once told her mother over tea. “I do not wish to entertain trivial lies anymore.”

But Rhaenyra was patient with her, and each time Aelenore brought the subject up, she took her hand and asked her if a child without the blood of Valyria could ever ride a dragon. To that, Aelenore shook her head. The more she was posed with the impossibility of her inferior nature by virtue of the beautiful wyrm resting in the Pit, the more her self-disdain turned to vanity.

The court was reminded of the unruly princess in her youth when her daughter insisted that she would only ever wear her riding habits. Even to breakfasts and lessons, she would don coats and trousers with gloves always neatly tucked around a belt or hanging from a pocket, and always complete with a jewelled pin of dragons.

She was a curious young woman, raining questions down upon anyone nearby about Valyria and dragons. When she wasn’t interrogating the Maesters of the Red Keep or unsettling the courtiers with her unwavering gaze set upon anyone she suspected to have whispered about her, or eating, reading and writing near her beloved dragon, she fast became a second mother to Lucerys, demanding that she learned all she could about tending to a babe. To anyone except Rhaenyra, Ser Laenor and Ser Harwin, it was so unlike that a child as cold as her eyes would ever possess the capacity for affection. Even then, they watched her with well-concealed fright when she looked over the bassinet for the first few times. Lucerys must have immediately taken a liking to his sister as well; where Rhaenyra, Leanor Velaryon and Harwin Strong all failed to lull him to sleep, Aelenore managed to soothe the fussy babe into slumber with ease that surprised even the most weathered of wetnurses.

She was proud when Lucerys’s egg hatched, swelling her chest and proclaiming that it was her choice, that egg. Luke, Jace, and Nole, as she was so adoringly and adorably called by Luke from the moment he could speak, the three siblings became inseparable... and perhaps, rather insufferable to some. They loved mischief. From tying buckets of cold water over doors to soak Maesters at early morning lectures, spilling ink on the newly-washed garbs of Septas and Septons when they delivered the daily service of the Seven, taking their dragons out of the Pit to stomp around and frightening the poor smallfolk nearby, they have become a trio of terror. Aelenore was the mastermind, the one that came up with jokes and pranks bordered on cruelty while Lucerys and Jacaerys gladly played her henchmen. Aemond had his fair share when he found his neatly written summary of a manuscript on Valyrian traditions torn to pieces on his assigned desk and the siblings missing from the lecture altogether, or when his book was drenched in ink so badly he couldn’t read a word anymore while Aelenore and Jacaerys were markedly keeping their hands gloved and under a table or behind their backs the whole day.

“I wish they would go away,” Aemond once complained to his mother. He needn’t name them.

“I know,” was all the woman could offer, and a sweet kiss to the growing boy’s temple. She was helpless in the matter; Viserys loved Rhaenyra and his grandchildren more than he ever did Alicent or the babes she produced.

Aelenore still dreamed of staining and chopping silver hairs and upsetting her uncles, though less often with her mind always on her beloved pale and crimson, slender Naerax. On the opposite end of the wing, curled up on his bed, however, Aemond began to dream of upsetting his niece, as well. He couldn’t bring himself to be anywhere as cruel and calloused as she was, and whenever his fists were squeezed into balls and he attempted to strike back with a sharp word, Aelenore happened to rub her thumb over the silver three-headed dragon pinned to her collar, and the boy stepped back.

“He’s not a real Targaryen,” she began to say to her peers, pompously and with a grotesquely mature lilt to her tone. “I am. Hair makes a man not Targaryen, but the dragon that resides within the Pit.”

On the morrow when she greeted Aemond with a smile, he thought perhaps Aelenore could yet be a friend to him despite all the mockery and cruelty. She even abandoned her usual seat between her brute of brothers and instead sat next to Aemond. He suspected she needed his neatly drawn table of irregular verbs in High Valyrian for the lesson on the afternoon, but instead, she leaned over and promised him “a grand surprise” after lunch. She claimed it was an offer of friendship, to start anew.

“What is it?” He asked, cautious still but naively excited deep down.

“Would hardly be a surprise if I said, no?”

Just a few hours after, the blush was wiped from his cheeks. His face was dirt and tear-stained; he was in Alicent’s arms, bemoaning that the grand surprise was a pig with haphazardly attached wings and his own brother in on the terrible spectacle, laughing along with the rest of them.

When Helaena’s sight came true, Aemond didn’t only find trading an eye for a dragon—the biggest and the mightiest of the realm, that was— fair. He found it a payment, a rather steep but justified cost for his prayers that Rhaenyra and her children be removed. They were. As Aemond mounted Vhagar and followed the ship that carried his family back to King’s Landing, Rhaenyra and her kin made for Dragonstone.

He found the Red Keep opened up to him with the chambers of his tormentors vacant and halls safe to roam as he pleased. The library was all his, the tutoring chamber was freed of pranks and loud chatter when it should have always been a quiet, contemplative haven of studies. He came and went as he pleased without ever having to look over his shoulder. He had Ser Criston all to himself, as well, since Aegon delved too deep into his cups to participate in sword practice.

Years passed easier for Aemond, and faster, too. A punctual man down to the mere second, he awoke, followed his schedule and slumbered expeditiously, never a minute off. He was Alicent’s honour and pride, as well as her one true friend. Days never started or ended without a visit from her beloved son, even if all they did was sit in silence by the fireplace and sip tea or wine.

It was one such day, though Aemond would look back on it later and recognise the omens that had eluded him. He was up much earlier than he should’ve been. The hour was so early that the sky was still dark. He turned to the window, and then, frustratedly, gave his back to it. He pulled the covers over his naked shoulder, then, pushed them down to his waist. He hugged a pillow to his chest, then, pushed it away, too. Nothing helped, and he knew he would go through his day exhausted, with merely a few hours of sleep.

So, he bathed longer, dressed slower, and visited Queen Alicent before breakfast. She gave him a smile that would’ve seemed like all the other smiles to any other eyes. Aemond, however, saw distress from the way his mother’s lips pursed.

He wasn’t one for empty niceties or belabouring, so his hands shifted from Alicent’s elbows to her wrists, to the raw and picked cuticles.

“Tell me, mother.”

Alicent shook her head at first, and stared out of the stained-glass windows. She knew she would be delaying the inevitable, her discomfort hardly ever eluded Aemond. She knew he would abandon his entire day’s plans to sit here with her, caring and stubborn, until she told him.

“We shall have visitors soon,” she spoke through clenched teeth, her eyes shifting to the missive left on the table where Criston had delivered it.

The downturn of Alicent’s mouth was nearly enough, though Aemond still cocked his head in a quiet question. Who?

Alicent scoffed, looking down at her son’s pale, graceful hands.

“Princess Rhaenyra and her children. Prince Daemon along with them, of course.”

If Aemond had had !breakfast, it would have heaved in his stomach.

“Why?” He nearly lamented after a moment’s silence.

“Why?!” Aelenore echoed petulantly across the sea, on Dragonstone. “Why must we go? Can you not go alone?!”

Aelenore was happy on Dragonstone. The entire land from the shores to the peaks of volcanoes was her oyster. She woke up as she pleased, strolled and flew to her heart’s desire. No one was there to accuse her own acting untoward when she unlaced her boots, uncuffed her sleeves and chased Luke across the sandy beach and the waves carried their joyous screams while their dragons flew overhead.

King’s Landing was stifling. The Red Keep’s stones did make a prison and the stained windows a cage. Aelenore almost forgot she didn’t look the part of Princess Rhaenyra’s daughter on Dragonstone. Unless Prince Daemon’s cold gaze lingered, she hardly thought of how would it be to have silver hair and violet eyes, and if they would indeed escalate one above men all by themselves. She would be abandoning her home for a sea of pale hairs and hostile eyes.

“Because,” Rhaenyra sighed over the cup she nursed as men paced around the room hurriedly. “Your grandsire’s health is in fast decline.”

“That cannot be all. We are not Maesters. What good are we to his decay?”

“But we are bringing Maesters of our own… I do not quite like you when you are so… without compassion.”

So, Prince Daemon spoke, and her mother listened, then? The conviction wasn’t Rhaenyra’s, Aelenore knew. She remained quiet yet didn’t make a move to leave the hall.

“The matter of your brother’s inheritance must be resolved,” Rhaenyra spoke again after a surrendering sigh. She only understood how difficult she had once been when her own stubbornness stared back at her.

“I will not let them rob Luke of what is rightfully his. We cannot permit it.”

Aelenore nodded to it. That, she would help her maids pack up for. That she would tolerate King’s Landing for.

“Thieves,” Aelenore spat. “They shall steal all their covetous eyes may fall upon.”

Rhaenyra shifted in her seat. She thought that Aelenore sounded too much like Daemon at times. Perhaps that was why the two were like wildfire and a burning candle.

For the following days, Aemond felt the transitory nature of all things deeply within him. Sometimes, when the halls were empty, he ran his fingers over the stone walls. Even to them he felt as though he was giving his farewell. For an hour or a moon, he would be robbed of the freedom he perhaps came to take for granted. They would be anywhere at any time; she, the head of the poisonous serpent, would be, and the rest would follow slithering.

On the morrow the entire King’s Landing crowded the crooked streets to catch a glimpse of the horde of dragons, Aemond watched the sky with disdain, with his arms folded behind him and the skin of this thumb picked so tragically alike his mother’s. The cavalry was led by Caraxes and Syrax, the unmistakable red and yellow that flew side by side. Behind them were three others, one in the front and two in the back, like an arrowhead loosened to pierce Aemond’s serenity. His eye was glued to the last two, looping around each other. The pale one with crimson wings and waxen belly that resembled Aemond curdled milk dipped and rose while the smaller, pearlescent-and-yellow one tried to sink his teeth into the elongated neck of the other.

Aemond looked to the side. Helaena didn’t seem to bother that they were so brazenly being marched upon, Aegon was hungover from a long night’s tryst to care; it was only his mother and Ser Criston among the Kingsguard that seemed tense. He would not have don a thing beyond an undershirt for a company as undeserving had it not been for Queen Alicent visiting his chambers, begging so selflessly for him to behave, for her if for nobody else.

When the heavy gates were pulled open and the vapid bunch marched on, it was only Alicent and Rhaenyra that shared a smile in courtesy. Prince Daemon’s chin was high, his nose was scrunched up as if the mere sight of the Keep nauseated him. Behind him, Jacaerys was nudging his sister and his younger brother to cease the gossip. Aemond’s eye fell and remained on the girl, taller and more mature, though only in appearance, since he last saw her. Her hair was down, though the damage to the curls showed it wasn’t always so freely flowing.

While Helaena simply embraced a new friend she barely remembered and Aegon was delighted that a pert arse under heavy skirts, pronounced waist squeezed by corsets and exposed flesh were now present to ogle, Aemond simply scoffed.

When it came to acknowledge her at all, Aemond nodded sharply. His greeting was as cold as the pale icicles that stared at him. Unsettling, he thought, her irises almost bled into the whites of her eyes. She simply nodded, as one would dismissively to a servant. Aemond’s arms were still folded behind him. He made no move to touch her; not to take her hand and press a kiss, not to offer a half-hearted hug. Aelenore didn’t seem willing to offer an olive branch either, with her gloved fingers tightly intertwined in front of her with an arrogant smirk plastered on her face.

Oh, how Aemond desired violence.

“What a warm welcome, this is,” she muttered under her breath, loud enough for Aemond to hear and Lucerys to snicker.

Behind them, servants began to drag heavy packs to the Keep. Aemond hoped it was simply out of vanity that they each brought more changes of clothes than necessary. While their chambers were prepared, Rhaenyra insisted on a visit to the King. There, it was only willing ignorance that barely maintained Rhaenyra’s illusion of her daughter. The young princess barely approached the bed and pointedly kept a handkerchief to her nose. The King’s beloved first grandchild looked down upon him with disgust, sneering at the rotting body and the dying face as his hand was left untouched by her.

“Sweet girl…” Viserys strained to no avail.

“Grandsire,” Aelenore muttered coldly after Jacaerys nudged her once again. “Lovely to see you.”

Aelenore rolled her eyes after that, looking around the room and wondering what was for supper while his mother silently wept at the corner of her father’s bed.

If the exchange in the King’s chambers was cold, the supper was the never-melting ice of the North. Where Alicent was covered to her neck, Rhaenyra and her daughter wore dresses that left their shoulders bare, and as if that was not enough, the young princess’ sleeves were split from the highest seam to the cuffs, exposing the entirety of her arms each time she so much as breathed. Aemond shook his head again and again, stabbing the pie in his plate, his eye burning into the shameless woman sitting at his side. Aelenore barely wore headdresses, and barely pinned her hair all the way up. Queen Alicent shared her son’s mind, she was one busted seam away from a harlot of the Street of Silk.

Aelenore was all wrong, Aemond thought. Untoward, improper, exposed like a desperate wench of a cheap pillow house. She laughed loudly, she moved in a manner that was ill-fitting to a princess. Aemond looked to his side again, and his brother was already charmed. Aemond hummed. Of course he would be.

“Say, when has she… blossomed and—and, sprouted such teats, hm?” Aegon slurred behind his cup to Aemond.

“I would rather not think about her… flesh,” Aemond lowered his voice along with his head, “if it’s all the same to you, brother. You’d do well to remember your wife, as well.”

The banter was cut short by Rhaenyra’s dry cough. Onto the matters at hand. She shared a look with Daemon, and he nodded in support.

“For our Maesters to study and prepare cures of their own, we must needs give them sufficient time. A moon’s time,” Rhaenyra spoke.

“During that time, my children must not fall behind in their studies. Yet, to allow Maester Gerardys to work uninterrupted, the princess and the princes must share the library yet again.”

Aemond’s head shot up along with Aelenore’s. They wouldn’t look at each other, but they shared the same sentiment. No. Absolutely not.

“Oh? So, the princess will not trust our Maesters with the care of the King, but she will entrust her children to their lectures?” Alicent was bitter in response, her brows were knitted above the practised, tight smile of courtesy.

“I trust my children to know the truth from a lie.”

Come morrow, it was very little consolation to Aemond that Rhaenyra’s bastards might be feeling as discomfited about their forced reunion as he was. He paced his room and fiddled with the neat stacks of tomes and the line of inkwells. He was always early, three days early than a minute late, he often defended his being too early that the Maester soon began to feel guilty for his being on time and not as early as his pupil was. But that morning, he wouldn’t be.

“No,” Aemond murmured to himself. That might show a sense of eagerness, and present the three-headed serpent with an opportunity to bother him. Yet, how late he had thought he was, he wasn’t as late as his tutoring partners. It was only Maester when Aemond took his seat, and it remained so for one full turn of the hourglass before the door swung open.

Aelenore was the first to enter, snickering with a tome under her arm and in yet another dress that bared more than concealed for Aemond’s taste.

“Oh?” she stopped in her tracks as though she expected the chamber to be empty, and looked back at her brothers, who were just as vain and proud of the interruption.

Aemond squeezed his fist under the table, dug his nails into his palm and with a clenched jaw, stared ahead and away from the girl that stood between him and the Maester.

“I see you start terribly earlier than Maester Gerardys does on Dragonstone. My brothers and I are rather fond of late eves, might it be that—”

Unapologetic. Proud. Without shame or decorum, Aemond thought to himself, the true mark of a bastard. Rotten to the core, a scourge. The Gods are truly testing us this time.

“And I am fond of order and duty. We shall be at odds, it seems,” he spoke up with vitriol the likes he hadn’t allowed to bubble up to the surface in so long.

Aelenore turned to him with a raised brow and a bemused smirk. At least her words were not lies, her eyes were swollen from slumber with a faint touch of darkness around them, only exacerbated by how pale her irises were.

“So it seems, Prince Aemond.”

She took her seat right next to Aemond, then, with her brothers by her side. The entire session was marred by their obnoxious giggling and the passing of notes. Aemond wondered why they would even bother to show up, though he reminded himself to be easy on them. It wasn’t their blood nor their history that was taught. Very little must have concerned them beyond a mere mention of a Valyrian lord and his harem that made the boys snicker.

As soon as the morning’s tutoring was concluded, Aemond departed without so much as a nod to the Maester and with his belongings so uncharacteristically collected in haste. Large steps carried him to the comfort of the secluded corner of the Keep’s larger library, to the dim spot that became a second bedchamber to him. He went to scribbling angrily. He was distracted, his cursive was sloppy, his words out of order, his thoughts mismanaged. The treatise was all wrong, he knew, yet the more he crumpled up parchments and started anew, the worse it got.

He heard the clicking of heels on the stone floor, then. Curious, he thought, as Queen Alicent knew not to disturb Aemond unless an urgency demanded it. Yet, the heels that dragged without hurry didn’t denote any such urgency. For once, Aemond hoped to be wrong in his conjecture as he looked up from his work.

There she was, the bane of his peace, the curse of all the malicious spirits of Valyrian mythos. She had a thin stack of parchment in her hands, strolling as if she were in the gardens between aisles of tall bookshelves. Aemond watched her with the suspended fury of a dragon prepared to strike out of the dark. She stopped soon after, reached up for a book and only raised dust. She stepped back, looked around once again, and pulled a few heavier tomes without discrimination only to toss them to the floor and step on them. Aemond had half a mind to jump from his seat and strangle the girl. A barbarian would be more reverent than she was, he thought. Gods, the state of Dragonstone must make even an untaught common man weep. A wicked den of sin where the heraldry of the Seven must be mocked in orgies and the written word was torn from bindings to wipe the aftermath off.

“You again,” Aelenore’s contemptuous acknowledgement pulled Aemond out of his thoughts. “I was hoping to be alone.”

“You would be, if you remained in your chamber and spared us the displeasure of your company.”

How dare she? This very spot has been always his from the moment the pain in his eye subsided. Would she be so misled of the mind to think she could usurp his home?

Aelenore seemed unbothered by his retort. In fact, it was Aemond who was the more perplexed one. He expected all sorts of disgrace from her, yet such blatant disrespect from a prince would—should have sent any woman with a modicum of virtue fleeing from his presence in shame. He assumed even Aegon’s whores must be more dignified than Princess Eleanore. Some princess she made.

“Do you not have more… princely pastimes?” She retorted.

“Are scholarly endeavours not princely enough for you?”

“No. Scholarly work is a consolatory waste of time for those who are not befitting to don a sword or fly a dragon.”

Aelenore turned her back to Aemond without waiting for his response and tossed the book to a table nearby. She was used to having the final say so long as the addressee wasn’t Prince Daemon.

“Both I can do,” Aemond rose from his seat and followed her, aggravated and ready to prove his words should she question his proficiency with either.

“Hm. No doubt,” she snorted with her head buried in the old tome.

“Who are you to subject me to lowly mockery?!” Aemond thought to demand with his hands wrapped around her neck. It was slender enough that even a single hand would do, and her body was easy enough to fling out of the window. But instead, his hand moved to his eyepatch. A reminder, a reassurance, a prayer: It passed, this will, too. It passed, she will pass, too. Only a matter of time. All passes, the good and the bad.

“But how well is the question, is it not, Prince Aemond?” She spoke up again. It seemed it wasn’t only Aemond who wasn’t willing to conclude this exchange.

“You do have certain… odds against you, do you not?” She pulled back from the book with a menacing look and an ugly smirk that Aemond wanted nothing more than to cut from her face with a letter opener.

“You did start flying later than all of us, and the sword? With your… unfortunate circumstance… well.” Her cold gaze shifted so pointedly from his face to the sword leaning against his desk, then, back to him.

“If you wish to challenge me to a flight or a duel, say it so plainly, Princess,” he spat the title as if it were a curse.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Though I am surprised you wouldthink to take for an opponent a woman rather than your own sex.”

The Stranger’s mistress. A vermin. A freak of nature. Something to be eradicated, stomped out before it sprouts her branches further.

“Apologies. I mistook your brothers for proper princes, but they are not the kind to be your champions, are they?” The fire within him was stoked with each moment he spent standing near her. He knew it to be a mistake, a man in command of his emotions wouldn’t have entertained a bastard who clearly wished to drag him down to the depths of hell she swam in. Yet, Aemond remained as if stuck to the mast of a ship drifting towards tall rocks.

“They would much rather hide behind skirts than face me.”

“They would not face you, that much is true, though for entirely different reasons.” She didn’t give Aemond the chance to give in to his impulses entirely. In a matter that seemed radically different from the frivolous villain she has been so far, Aelenore discarded her quill and reasoned. Though she spoke too slowly for it not to be insulting at least in the slightest.

“Because I am no more pleased than you are that I am here and neither are my brothers. Yet, no blood shall be drawn as I would like to fancy us all, yes, even you, Aemond, above simple brutes or mindless animals. No iron shall be drawn, no duels shall be had. I assure you I count the days until I am gone more eagerly than you.”

Aemond remained quiet with his lips pursed and his eye slowly dragging across her face. Maybe she could be reasoned with, after all. But he reminded himself that a bastard’s oath was bound with a withering twig; an easy tug and it was undone.

Both Aelenore and Aemond stayed in their heads for a moment, staring at each other but entirely unseeing. Aemond thought of all the ways Aelenore had wronged him. He remembered how she had run to Jace and Luke, how she had kneeled by them, holding washcloths to their noses and lips while his eye was sewn shut by a needle about the size used to weave thick blankets. He remembered how she had encouraged the boys to speak up, how she was the one to give voice to them.

“Aemond” she had called him with disdain, “slandered the princes.” Princes. Bastards. Treacherous liars.

“He called my brothers bastards, mother,” she had spoken with false solemnity, her pale, lifeless eyes dragging from Rhaenyra to Viserys so deviously.

On the morrow, they had all laughed. They had broken fast, they had jested and chatted while Aemond’s life changed forever. That was her, that has always been her. An uncaring, dangerous creature in love with misery and misfortune so long as none befell her.

He realized she was indeed at his mercy then and there. He could claim an eye for his, perhaps do not stop there and cut an ear, too, for interest. Perhaps even half of her ugly, upturned nose that perpetually disdained everything it saw. Consequences be damned, he thought, yet his shoulders fell and he blinked out of trance all the same. He felt the familiar throbbing in the back of his head slowly creeping to surround the precious stone lodged in his eye.

“I do not want you here, in the library,” Aemond spoke sharply. He was threatening enough that Aelenore was no longer too eager to tease him. “Find yourself elsewhere to spread your rot.”

It was his turn to speak the final word, and Aemond spun on his heels to abandon his study and Aelenore both. For once, he would break his schedule to demand Ser Criston’s time without a prior appointment, and he would do unto a sturdy shield and a worthier opponent perhaps half of what he so passionately desired to do to the girl invading his sanctuary.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen angst

74 notes · View notes

emotionally-creative-rogue · 8 months

Text

DOMINATION LINES!!

THANK YOU @caramelcheesegay FOR COMING UP WITH 90% OF THESE, ILY<333

DOMINATED:

Scout:

-“Can’t stun me if you can’t hit me! I’m a freakin’ blur, dipshit!”

-“I am ALWAYS gonna dodge that. When will you LEARN, man?”

-“Oh, oh, oh! I’m STUNNED at how bad you’re doin’!”

Soldier:

-“Don’t swing your puny stick at me, maggot! You come from fake America!!!”

-“I AM IMPERVIOUS TO ALL OF YOUR ATTACKS, SYRUP-SLURPER!”

-“Get off the battlefield and go play some hockey, weakling!”

Demo:

-“Aye, I bet you thought it’d be easy ta kill me, didn’t’che? Well, iaarrghhnnn *snore*.”

-“You call tha’ a grenade?? Me blind Mum farts worse than that wee thing!”

-“Don’ come a’ me in those ghoulish boots lad, I’ll blast ‘em right offa yer feet!”

Engie:

-“You’re just a little piece a’ sentry fodder now, aren’t’cha?”

-“You make for some real shitty target practice, son.”

-“Tell me ‘bout those stun grenades sometime, yeah?”

Heavy:

-“Ha! Leetle bug man is crushed. Like bug. Leetle bug. Feed you to Archimedes, Buggy.”

-“Small jumpy man- not Scout? There are two small jumpy men???”

-“You think loud noise and bright light are enough to take down Heavy??? I am killing you now!!”

Medic:

-“Oohoo! Free organs! Young, too!”

-“Ach, that reminds me- I need to feed my birds.”

-“Ohhh, sorry little boy! Go play with your crayons, ja?”

Sniper:

-“Piss off, y’ jumpy git. Bloody grasshopper…”

-“Awh, get quicker next time, won’tcha?”

-“Dead like a ‘roo on the side o’ the road!”

Spy:

-“For someone named ‘The Rogue’, you are certainly a pack thinker.”

-“Oho! I am *stunned* by your lack of skill!”

-“Not so *Dexx*trous now, hm?”

DOMINATING:

Scout:

-“No runnin’ in the halls, freshman!”

-“Bonk? More like thonk, eh? ‘Cause that’s the sound your hollow head makes when I hit ya!”

-“Hah! Too slow!”

Soldier:

-“Y'know, a 3" piece of rubber can do a lotta damage, Trench Monkey!”

-“Hah! Oh, I mean- I'm sooo soooorey aboot tha', Bud! (snicker)”

-“A cat on a sloped roof is braver than the entire U.S. Military, Booklicker!”

Pyro:

-“Ack! Sorry, Firecracker!”

-“Oh shit, I think I’m still on fire. Damn it, these were my favorite pants!”

-“Hey we're, uh, still on for s'mores later... right?”

Demo:

-“Pen's mightier than the sword, cyclops! Get it? 'Cause I'm an artist and you- yeah, nevermind”

-“Someone must have put a little sleepy sauce in your mickeys, bud, ‘cause you are NOT on top of it today!”

-“Smile and wait for the flash!”

Heavy:

-“Somebody order ten thousand pounds a’ dead weight? (Snort)”

-“It’s really hard to miss your pressure points, y’know.”

-“Move it, ya big lug! You’re in the way!”

Engineer:

-“GRENAAAAAADE! I WIN! Ya proud of me, da-uhhh.. dude?”

-“See ya round, Daaaeengie! I said Engie. Short for Engineer. That is you. You are- I’ll go.”

-“Bam! And another one down, and another one down! ANOTHER ONE BITES THE BO STAFF!!”

Medic:

-“oohohoh, Maybe I can try some experiments on you this time!- Y'know, put your lessons to good use!”

-“Doc, you seriously gotta take care of your health. Damn hypocrite... (Mocking voice) 'Do az I say, not az I do!' my ass!”

-“Guess that's what happens when you don't follow your own advice, thanks for the hands-on lesson!”

Sniper:

-“There, away from the noise now! Just how you like it, Dee!”

-“You may wink at your opponents, but ya gotta take the shot as well, y'know! Can't charm 'em to death!”

-“I just... un-cozied your... camper. I'm having a bad day please be nice.”

Spy:

-“Crisse de connard! -Aheh, not used to gettin' berated in your own language, eh?”

-“Va te faire foutre, merde de con!”

-“Bein Tabarnak, it feels good to turn the tables! Hah, deserved!”

Taunt ideas:

-Using the Bo-Staff as a microphone

-Using the bo-staff as a rifle(making fun of sniper)

-Juggling the stun grenades, almost dropping one and catching it in time before glancing around to see if anyone saw him and putting them away again

OCS:

DOMINATED:

Strat (@emotionally-stressed-strategist):

-“How are you this bad? I’m dominating you with a PEN, Rogue, A PEN.”

-“Rock, skull. Man down.”

-“One less dot on the map- don’t come back, yeah?”

Arrow (@emotionally-dead-archer):

-"Hah! Gotcha! Oh, gotta love a little sibling rivalry, am I right?"

-“Bigger sibling? Not really.”

-“Hey! My aim is getting better! Thanks for the target practice!”

DOMINATING:

Strat:

-“I’m done bein’ your wingman if you keep this up.”

-“That’s what happens when you steal my art supplies!”

-“How do you still not have ink poisoning? Dude, seriously.”

Arrow:

-“There! I make for a pretty good role model! You get to see my stuff first-hand!”

-“You're adopted. Sorry.”

-“I think it's almost bedtime, kiddo.”

Jet (@emotionally-broken-robot):

-"Hey, uh, does this count as Softwaregore?"

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sushis-wild-imagination · 2 years

Text

Over a Decade

SeungCheol x reader

Words: 10k ish (Longer than my college essay for sure, damn)

Summary: Non Idol AU, Childhood best friends to lovers, horrible slow burn, angsty, fluff, everything, no smut though, I can't do it. Slice of life, dad coups

TW: mentions of heart attack and physical abuse.

Im so excited for you to read this!

Over a decade Series

General Masterlist <3

Seventeen masterlist

“Don’t let go of his hand, he’s older, he’ll look out for you” your mom says to you putting your little hand is his.

“I’ll protect her” a young Seungcheol, around the age of 6, smiles at your mother widely with one of his front tooth missing. Feeling a sense of responsibility with his chest out. He was 2 years older to you and the son of your mom’s best friend. He was automatically your best friend and you were his.

You were off to run an errand for your mom, SeungCheol wanted to tag along.

“Will you be my friend when I am taller?” You ask him not letting go of his hand.

“Only if you’re not taller than me” he nods at the end of the sentence.

“What if I’m taller than you?”

“No way” he shakes his head.

“I’ll try to be shorter then, I want to be friends with you forever” your younger self says as you reach the watch repair shop your mom had asked you to go to pick up her old watch.

“Forever? My mom says if you want to be with someone forever, you’ll have to marry them”

“Ill marry you”

“Okay” he says smiling.

You get the watch from the repair shop and SeungCheol does most of the talking. He lets go of your hand to take the watch from the lady. Out of reflex end up holding the sleeve of his shirt instead.

“What are you? A baby?” He teases you. “No” You whine at that.

“Can a baby jump this far?” You ask and let go of his hand the first time in all this while to show him this jump you’ve been practising. It was more of a leap that tackled his little body too.

“What are you doing?” He asks pushing you off. He dusts himself off and helps you get the dirt out of your shirt too.

“I think I jump very well, like a grasshopper”

“My mom told me grasshoppers fly”

“Really?” You ask, your little hand reaching for his hand again to continue walking back home.

——

“Don’t let go, please please” you beg him. He was teaching you to ride a bike and you were trying your hardest not to fall or look back.

“You’re doing okay, I haven’t let go, you’ll never learn otherwise”

You could feel him holding on and letting go to teach you how to balance. After a bit, his voice became distant. You knew he had let go so you turned to check and crashed on the road as soon as you did.

“Yah, you were doing fine, are you stupid? Why’d you look back?” A 10 year old Cheol asks you, looking at the wound on your elbow and knee.

“How does a person fall from this height and hurt their knee like this?” He exclaims. The cuts were a bit deep.

“I’m not stupid, it’s just a scratch, I’m not even crying” your 8 y/o self exclaimed. It was a deep cut as if you fell on to glass.

“Wait here for me” he says rolling his eyes and disappears for a few minutes.

He comes back with a few bandaids and alcohol rubs.

“I told you to keep going, I don’t want to teach you if you’re this scared,” he whines.

He nurses your wound and puts a bandaid on it.

“There, now focus, y/n please” he begs. You knew he was a little annoyed because when he was playing around, he’d never call you by your name, it was always grasshopper. It was a cute nickname he had given you when you were 6 and it just stuck after that. But when he took your name, you knew things were serious.

You nod softly without looking at him. He looked out for you even when he was annoyed at you. Isn’t that what friendship really is?

——

You were playing the sandbox at the park, your mom had told you Cheol was going to a summer camp for a month, and you were too young to go.

As a 11 y/o it made you feel angry that you couldn’t go along and like he was leaving you behind, you were convinced he was gonna make new friends there and forget about you. It made you scared and angry, emotions you couldn’t identify at 11.

“Go to summer camp, play with your new friends” You get pulled up by the hoodie you were wearing to stand up and meet his eyes. He was much taller than you were.

“Yah, what new friends”

You start crying. “The new friends you’ll make you’ll forget about me” you see him shaking his head.

You were now sitting outside a convenience store eating ice cream with SeungCheol, after you calmed down. He dragged you to a store to get you ice cream.

“I will never forget you, stupid” he says and that makes you smile also gives you reassurance.

“Its literally a month, you can’t possibly forget someone in a month”

“I made you this” you hold out your hand in a fist.

“What is it” he asks, trying to pry your hands open. It was a bracelet with a grasshopper charm.

You see his dimples and that makes you happy.

——

“Do you want to hear something?” His 16 y/o self asks you, sitting at his keyboard bench in his room.

You were sitting on his bed hanging out reading a random comic from his collection.

“I’ve been listening to IU’s Hold My Hand recently” you say without giving it a thought.

His fingers glide over the keys creating a very soft tune.

You loved his music and his voice. He had picked up a few instruments when he was away. He looked very passionate about it. It made you feel happy too, watching him play.

He takes a breath before humming a tune.

“You’re getting this feeling, you’re trembling inside, how long will you merely steal glances at me?” He sings.

It suddenly felt too personal. You were at least 4 feet away from him but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like he was in your head. You shake off the thought.

After a little playing, he plopped himself on his bed where you were reading your book. “What are you on” you scoot over a little more to give him space.

You were on your stomach reading while he was on his back. He looked sleepy, he had already closed his eyes.

You went back to reading the book, when you finished the comic, you put it aside and saw Seungcheol softly snoring. He was dead asleep.

He broke the first rule of friendship. Never sleep when your friends are around. You’ll definitely get pranked.

Bingo!

You locate a sharpie on his night stand, but since you were trapped on the inside of the bed you had to go over Seungcheol to reach the sharpie.

You were totally hovering over his face trying not to fall on him while you reach the marker. You curse your small arms.

You hear him shuffle under you and out of reflex quickly grab the marker and go back to original position. Hoping he didn’t wake up.

You quickly take a look to see if he’s still asleep, he was.

You open the sharpie to draw a mustache on him and some whiskers. You also write ‘stupid’ on his forehead.

You were trying so hard not to giggle.

You were again hovering over him to draw on his forehead. The last stroke of the letter woke him up.

You were caught in the act. “What are you doing?” he asks in a sleepy voice.

You end up giggling not being able to keep it in for any longer.

He holds both your wrists in one of hands and you couldn’t stop laughing. He opens the camera on his phone to see what you did to see a mustache and doodles on his face.

“Oh you’re so dead come here” he says and terror takes over. He was definitely going to draw on your face and you had to get out of his hands.

He opens the sharpie with his mouth and goes to draw on your face while you scream playfully.

“No no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You chant while he tries to draw on your face. It got playfully violent.

“What's this noise” his mom walks in to see SeungCheol literally straddling you with a sharpie cap in between his teeth and his hands restraining your hands. This looks bad.

“Auntie, help” you

“I’ve made some snacks for you. Nice mustache, SeungCheol” she comments and leaves shaking her head.

You hear SeungCheol do a fake evil laugh while you go back to squealing. Your eyes were tearing up and your sides hurt. It was that much fun.

“Guess you get a mustache now,” he says, grabbing a pen to draw on your face.

——

“Do you like this?”

You were walking back from school with ice cream in hand. He was a senior with half a year to school and you still had one.

You shake your head making a face. You tried out this weird new mango flavored ice cream at the market. He takes the ice cream cone from you and hands you his normal chocolate one that he had picked out.

These kind gestures had become a habit now. You just had that kind of a relationship. You didn’t even need to acknowledge it after a while.

“I had to ask you something” you stop and turn to him licking his- your ice cream.

“Hmm?”

You take a deep breath before you ready yourself to ask the most absurd thing you’ve asked him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He stops eating and puts his hand down. He was shocked and flustered.

“What?”

You recently got over your crush on SeungCheol considering he was graduating and going away for college in a year your crush would be useless. You ended up liking this boy from your class for a while now. Him being your first kiss terrified you. You just wanted to get it done when someone your comfortable with. You were over your little crush on SeungCheol that comes and goes. You finally liked someone, it gave your butterflies.

“I can explain”

“Please do” he says flustered about what you just said.

“You know how I like this boy in class right, we’re going to the arcade next weekend, I think he’s gonna kiss me” your voice fades.

“And..?”

“And I don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing” you look away not being able to face him. You hear him laugh out of the absurdity of the request.

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve heard coming from you y/n, and you’ve said some WEIRD things, are you crazy?”

“I don’t want to look like a loser”

He doesn’t say anything and continues walking shaking his head. “You’re acting weird” he mutters to himself. You have to run a little to catch up. You tug at his arm when you do. You were walking next to the stream that’s on the way back home, you could hear ducks behind you.

“SeungCheol, please! I feel comfortable, plus its not like we have feelings for each other, it’ll just technicality” you try to justify your demand, like you're trying to convince yourself more than convince him.

SeungCheol felt butterflies in his stomach when you asked him that. He’s liked you for a while now, but gave up confessing because he kept telling himself its just a crush and he’ll get over it plus the fact that he’s moving away for college. He was too lost in thought to respond to you. He kept eating his ice cream and almost finished it but your rant wasn’t over.

“Listen, you haven’t had your first kiss either right? Isn’t this a win win for the both of-“ you are suddenly whisked by the waist, closer to him.

He inched his face closer and you were now second guessing your demand. It’s as if he wanted you to second guess your demand, to intimidate you enough for you to realise how absurd this request of yours was and how much you probably didn’t want it or would possibly regret it.

You could feel his hot breath on your face. His eyes fluttered between your eyes and your lips. He got even closer enough to close the distance between your lips but he didn’t.

“Is this what you want, y/n?” he whispers, that was enough, he was that close, just trying to make you realize it isn’t something you want.

Will your crush on SeungCheol come back if you do what you wanted to? Possibly yes.

Will you regret it? Mostly not.

You close your eyes tightly and bring both your hands to pull his face to yours to kiss him.

It wasn’t short enough for a peck nor was it a proper kiss. It was somewhere in between but you couldn’t keep track because you were so embarrassed.

This leaves him in a shock, you could feel him freeze under your hands momentarily processing what had just happened. You pull away, not too much, just enough to catch your breath.

Your eyes met, you were embarrassed, he realized what had happened.

You could feel his arms tighten around your waist in attempts to pull you to his height and closer, you were already on your toes. One of your hands now sliding down to hold the collar of his uniform to keep yourself from losing balance. His neck pushed down to kiss you again. Like he wanted more.

That gave you a sense of relief. You really wanted to do it right so you try to think of everything what you’ve seen on tv. You forget about the ice cream you were holding, you got some chocolate on his cheek in the process.

You swore it was longer than you thought, but also shorter than you wanted it to be.

You slip away from his grip and take a step back.

“Um” you didn’t know what to say, you hug yourself. “I got chocolate on your cheek” you say and take your hand to his face to wipe the chocolate from his face to cover up the awkwardness.

“You taste like chocolate” he mutters under his breath.

“Should I eat a chocolate before I kiss him?” You switch the subject completely to avoid awkwardness but that hurt him a little bit. He could see it didn’t mean anything beyond practice to you.

The rest of the walk was awkward.

That was your first kiss. You were more than okay with the fact that it was SeungCheol and not the boy you liked.

——

You were on the way to the hospital. You just had a frantic call from SeungCheol about his mother collapsing and he didn’t know who else to call. His dad was out of town and it would take him at least 6 hours to get here.

You were out shopping with a few friends, it was about 6pm, you dropped everything and got in a cab. You were worried for him.

The hospital stunk of bleach and alcohol, people crying about their loved ones, patients walking around. It made you very anxious. Last time you were at a hospital you were 10 and you had lost your dad in an accident. You had weird feelings about the hospital.

Your eyes look everywhere for his familiar face. You see him crouched on a seat next to the emergency operation theater and rush there.

“SeungCheol” you kneel in front of him. He looks up at you, his eyes were red like he had been crying before. You’ve only seen him cry twice. One when you were watching a really sad movie and when his adopted dog died. It scares you to see him cry.

You sit next to him now to rub his back in comfort.

“What happened?”

“They're saying it was a heart attack” he somehow choked out.

“What?” He nods and looks back at his hands on his lap.

You slid your hand in his. “Its okay, shes here now, they’ll take care of her, everything will be okay” you reassured him softly.

“What if it’s not okay? Its my fault”

“You could’ve never known, its not your fault”

“I was listening to music so loud, I didn’t even hear her collapse, I don’t even know when it happened y/n”

You get why he blamed himself, if it was too late to bring her in, he’d get eaten up by the guilt. You didn’t know what to say to that. All you knew was to reassure him everything will be alright and pray that it really will be.

Then you waited, his father would only reach by midnight and you were there for those 6 hours, waiting with him. You called your mom too, she arrived in an hour to help with other hospital documents.

You stayed there with him until his father came in.

You and your mother stepped away to give them some space. You decided to grab a sandwich.

“I’m worried about him, mom”

“He’s a strong boy, he’ll be okay, they will all be okay” she assured you.

You were back in the hallway where you left seungcheol and his father.

“What do you mean you didn’t hear your mother collapse, Choi SeungCheol?”

This make your head snap towards their direction. Seungcheol was looking at the ground with his hands behind his back, getting yelled at. It startles you a little. You’ve never heard that man yell. He was worried for his wife.

“I'm sorry, if something happens to mom today” he voice fades out and he takes another deep breath, his voice was shaky. “It’s my fault, I’m sorry dad”

“I don’t want you here, go back home. I’ll call you when there is news” you hear his father say sternly.

“No dad, please let me stay, I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens, let me stay”

“Go home” you hear his father say again.

“Take him home” your mom says to you and you immediately go to his side to drag him away from his father for a bit. They’d probably get into a fight if this continues.

“Cheol, we should go” you tug at his arm. You don’t dare talk to Mr. Choi. He was scary right now.

He lets himself get dragged away. “Let’s go home, your dad will take care of it, don’t worry”

You get a cab and go back in silence, occasionally giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him like if you did and he needed something and you won’t be able to provide with it immediately worried you.

You go back to his place, looking at everything there was uncovered in the kitchen and some food on the floor. She probably collapsed with a plate of food in her hand.

You make him sit down and get him some water.

“You should go wash up” you say, not letting your eyes leave the messy kitchen.

He nods and goes back inside dragging his feet. You decide to clean up the food on the floor and check if the uncovered food had gone bad. It had not. It was almost 1am now.

“Are you hungry or do you just want to sleep?” You ask him when he comes back. His eyes were the same bloodshot, like he bawled in the shower. You try not to point it out but it broke your heart. You know what its like losing a parent, you wouldn’t wish such heavy emotions, such a loss, grief on anyone. It scared you for him.

“Did you clean up?” it snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Yes”

“You didn’t have to”

“Its alright, its the least I could do”

“Do you want me to stay over?”

“Um.. I want to be alone today”

“Yes, no, of course I understand, I was just asking in case you didn’t want to be alone” you nod. Not sure what to do with your hands, you fiddle with them.

“Let me walk you home, its too late, its dangerous” he says grabbing his jacket.

You nod and he walks you back. You were finally at your door.

“Will you be okay?” You ask him with the saddest look in your eyes trying not to touch his face. Skinship had become awkward now that you were grown up plus all these feelings.

He nods to that. You had a feeling he was going to cry his eyes out when you close the door. You were worried.

His phone rings in the middle of the conversation. He hurriedly picks it up. His mom was out of danger.

“Mom’s okay” he says putting his phone down and grabs you in a hug resting his face in your neck. You were shocked at first but you settle into it.

“Thats a relief” you sigh.

“That’s a relief”

His hug was particularly tight but you didn’t mind it.

You suddenly feel his body jolt, like he’s sobbing his eyes out. He was overwhelmed. You felt horrible for him. It really broke your heart.

You try to pull back to see his face but he doesn’t let you, he only holds you tighter.

Maybe he’s embarrassed. He was clearly scared. You didn’t probe into it and just give him the comfort he needed running your hands through his hair and rub his back. He calmed down after a few minutes.

“I'm sorry, I’m getting snot on your shirt” he says sniffling.

“Ewwww” you respond jokingly as he pulls back.

“You owe me a tshirt”

“You already have TWO of mine” he chuckles.

——

It was your regular movie night with SeungCheol at his. You had promised each other that since he went to college, every time he comes home you have a movie night.

“What are we watching?” He asks and today you weren’t particularly looking forward to it. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of 1 and a half years, he had cheated on you. You’ve been moping around for quite some time. You had suspected that your mother must’ve spoken to SeungCheol to get you out of the house when he came back.

“A little birdy told me you’ve been acting weird all week” he says as he settles next to you. “What's wrong?” He asks facing you and resting his head on his arm thats on the backrest of the couch.

“Did you talk to my mom?” He nods.

You sigh and put your face in your hand. “It’s nothing” you shake it off and grab the remote to put on an episode of something.

He takes the remote from you, “I’m right here, talk to me” he pushes.

“My boyfriend cheated on me” you say very nonchalantly. Like it meant nothing but it was eating you up all week, you didn’t cry about it once so far.

“What an asshole” he exclaims, “Forget about it, I always knew he was trouble, just study well and get into a good university y/n” he rants sitting next to you.

You remembered what happened over the last 2 weeks. You went out with your boyfriend, Eunwook, on your 1 year anniversary. He told you he fell out of love with you and even cheated on you. He came clean.

But he also somehow brought up that you weren’t fully emotionally available to him either. You were surprised he caught on to it. You started dating him after your feelings for SeungCheol had come back. Your now ex, was only supposed to be a distraction from the fact that SeungCheol was going to university, and away from you, but slowly he grew on you and made you completely forget about SeungCheol and your ancient feelings for him.

Eunwook cheating on you only gave you a lot of self doubt and questions. Did you deserve that? Was it just Karma? You weren’t emotionally available and you still used him to forget about someone else, you felt guilty and deserving that he cheated on you. You felt horrible that you did that to him, it would be hypocritical of me to be hurt about him cheating, you thought to yourself.

“No, I don’t blame him, I started it and I fully deserve it”

“Y/n… no one deserves to get cheated on” he softly says trying not to touch your face but also wanting to push back the strand of hair that was disrupting his view.

You shake your head and turn to look at him with your hands in your lap playing with your fingers. You didn’t realize when your eyes had well up like that. You felt a drop hit your cheek. You had very mixed emotions. You weren’t sad about the break up, you felt like you had no right to be. You didn’t know what to think.

“I used him to forget” you say softly.

“Forget what?”

“I used him to forget you”

——

You were all huddled up around the fire with some beer in hand, alcohol made you very sleepy, you were the ‘sleepy’ kind of drunk. It was one of the first times you were drinking, you still don't know how much alcohol you can take.

You ended up going to the same university as SeungCheol and in turn hanging out with his friends. They always shipped you and SeungCheol and teased both of you because it seemed like you were dating. But all you were best of friends, regardless of your constant crush on SeungCheol, you just knew each other a lot better than the others and that comes off as 'very close/almost dating’ sometimes.

You were 2 beers down and already started to feel sleepy. You were leaning to one side, almost falling off your chair. Luckily SeungCheol was in the next chair so he scooted over to give you something to lean on. You ended up resting your head slightly on his shoulder and becoming more comfortable. All this while all your friends were already in conversation. Such gestures had become very normal between you and SeungCheol.

“Is she asleep?” You hear Jeonghan say.

“She’s out” You heard SeungCheol respond by patting your hair a little as if to check if you’re out. You pretend to be asleep to eves-drop on the conversation.

“Tell me, honestly, you look like you’re in love with her, SeungCheol '' Jeonghan attacks out of nowhere. There was a lot of silence after the question so you didn’t know if that meant he was hesitant or if it meant he was in love with you.

“I just… I care about her, a lot” he exhales. “I don’t know what it is, all I know is I care for her”

“Are you sure she’s not in love with you?”

“Not anymore” referring to your last relationship and how you used your ex to move on from your stupid crush on SeungCheol.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but looking at the both of you, from a third person’s view, you look painfully ignorant to each other’s feelings” both of them chuckle at sipping on their beers.

“Maybe, maybe not”

“Have you at least thought about dating her?”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle. You could feel his body move which made you move too because your head was on his chest now. He put his arm around you to get more comfortable.

“I think I won’t have to date her at all, we could just get married and it would still make sense, we know each other that well”

It knocked the wind out of you. You try to remain composed. But Jeonghan chokes on his beer.

“You know what I mean right?”

You really do end up dozing off after that conversation you hear.

You get a feeling of getting poked in the cheek that makes you open your eyes. It was still dark, like dawn. You groan and stop the hand that was poking your cheek.

“Let's get you in a tent before the mosquitoes make you their dinner and their breakfast” you hear SeungCheol say and you nod half asleep.

You lazily get up while he checks what tent to sleep in. Turns out there was only one tent left. Someone puked in one of the other tents and that had become unusable.

“C'mon” he takes one of your hands with his free hand with a can of beer in his other hand.

“Are you sober?” You ask him, the soju had made you bold. You’ve liked him for a while, your feelings had come back recently and you didn’t know what to do with them. You never acted on it. You were scared you’ll ruin things.

“I don’t think so, why?” He asks not letting go of your hand he had in his.

“Will you remember anything from tonight?”

“I hope not, I don’t think I want to remember Go Eun puking in the tent” he says and both of you shudder at the thought.

“Promise me you’ll forget this”

“Forget what?”

You get on your tiptoes as much as you could holding his shoulders. Maybe the beers made you bold.

“Lets get married, Choi Seungcheol” You whispered referring to his conversation with Jeonghan, before you kissed him.

His eyes widened a little but his hands immediately went to your waist like a reflex, like he’s done this before.

He had, he was your first kiss.

He kissed you back. It was sweet, right next to the bonfire. You just wanted to take a chance even if neither of you remember it the next day.

He kept his promise, he didn’t remember a thing.

——

You recently moved to Seoul, to find a job as a Designer. You had just turned 20 and you decided it was time to move to a bigger city. Plus Cheol was already in Seoul so it made it easier to have a friend.

SeungCheol was the biggest sweetheart. He helped you find an apartment in his apartment building because to quote him he wanted you “within 5 minutes radius” of him. You were new to the city so it worked out well.

“I’m gonna make some tea, you want some?” He was helping with assembling the couch for you.

You’ve been assembling furniture all day, he even got some of his band mates to help fix it up.

“Thanks for helping” you tell him as you fix him a cup of tea along with one for yourself..

“Don’t worry about it” he says as he screws in the last screw and plops himself on the couch.

You hear him sigh. “Are you tired? I can do the bookshelf myself” you tell him bringing him his coffee.

“I'm not too tired, I think a nap would help though”

“You can nap on the bed after we fix it up”

“I just hope it's cozy” he says as you both finish your tea and enter the bedroom with the parts scattered on the floor. You end up listening to music and assembling the bed. Once it’s done, SeungCheol had this ‘brilliant’ idea to jump on it to check if it's made well.

You were now on your old bed jumping to ‘check’ the bed for god knows what. But it was fun regardless.

Thak!

You hear a loud noise of wood breaking the bed sliding to one side making both of you fall on the mattress that slides towards the wall on one of the sides at full speed.

SeungCheols hands went to guard your head that was very close to hitting the wall. His hand got squished between your head and the wall. You both groan in pain.

Your back had also hit the wall with a little of SeungCheol’s weight squishing you against the wall.

“This was a bad idea” you say rubbing your head and his hands that were on the back of your head.

You didn’t realize how close your faces were. Last time your faces were this close, you kissed, twice.

You could see his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips, you knew what was going to happen. Somewhere you wanted it to. You were just staring at each other in silence for a good half a minute.

It had been a while since the last time you kissed and honestly you missed it.

He cleared his throat and pulled back. You didn’t know where to look.

“Um.. yeah.. that was a bad idea”

“Yeah yea yeah it was, it's okay I can.. sleep on the floor or something” you say as your voice fades out.

The doorbell rings and he literally runs out to get it. It's probably the food you had ordered.

You sigh. Maybe you should’ve just kissed him or let him kiss you.

——

Your phone chimes around when you leave work and you check it to see a picture of a leg that's completely bandaged. SeungCheol had sent you the picture. You immediately call him up. “What did you do?”

“I tore a muscle at the gym,” he says chuckling.

“Yah, why can’t you be careful, what's the point of building all these muscles if they can’t even handle a tear” you argue on the phone and tell him you’ll drop by after work.

You rush back home after work and even stop by to get some ingredients for dinner in case he doesn't have any in his fridge.

“Are you in pain?” You ask him when you enter. You knew his code so he didn’t have to move around to open the door. He was sitting on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table with a pillow.

He only groans to answer that question. He had no energy, his face was sulking. “I brought you dinner” you say and hold up the bag full of food.

“I could just order, you didn’t have to do this”

“Let me take care of you, for once” you’ve always felt like you haven’t given him back enough, or paid him back enough for his kindness and all the times he’s looked out for you.

You hear him chuckle.

The TV ran in the background creating some kind of white noise.

You were done with dinner and you stepped out to see SeungCheol passed out on the couch. It must’ve been a tiring day. You placed the food on the table and sat next to him to wake him up.

He only groaned in response.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says as he takes a bite of the food.

“Do what?” You ask genuinely confused. “Help a friend when his legs don’t work?” You ask giggling.

“No, I mean, take care of me”

“I’ve been thinking, when I was cooking, you’ve taken care of me so many times, if this is my only chance to repay you for all the kindness you’ve shown me since we were 5, I’d happily do it SeungCheol, so I really have to do it” you explain.

The air suddenly became very serious.

“Okay then you owe me a lot more than just a dinner, I think I’d like a couple of race cars and some gold” he jokes and you laugh.

“Sure, I’ll bring them in tomorrow sir” you act out a quick skit giggling.

“For real though, you’ve helped me a lot, so let me take care of you instead” you say facing him.

He softly nods and goes back to his food. After he’s done with the food, there was a bit of awkward silence between the two of you and SeungCheol can’t stand them, so he decides to joke.

“Time to go to the bathroom” he announces, teasing you. You groan.

“Do you HAVE to?”

“I’ll actually pee my pants Y/N”

——

“You okay?” You hear Dokyeom as over the music, he hands you a can of beer.

You nod at him.

You were at a party with a few mutual friends. You nervously nod at him. It was a little too many people, it freaked you out a little bit.

Dokyeom knew about your stupid little crush on SeungCheol over the years. It was ‘painfully obvious’ as he put it. You totally tried to deny it and dodge it but it felt nice to talk to someone about it.

You and Dokyeom became quite good friends once he had your secret. Aside from the fact that you were the same age. You finally decided - no, Dokyeom blackmailed you that it was time to tell SeungCheol. You promised Dokyeom you’ll confess at the party today. You were very nervous. This could possibly put your friendship at jeopardy and the thought of losing him as a friend was awful.

“Are you ready to come clean?” Dokyeom asks you

You visibly sigh over the music and chug the can of beer he handed you in attempts to get drunk as fast as you can. You can’t do this sober.

After dancing around a bit with Dokyeom and a few more friends, you see SeungCheol weaving through the crowd to get to you from a few meters away. Your heart started to beat out of your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of the dancing or SeungCheol.

You see a figure following him through the crowd, he was holding her hand. You swallow getting a weird feeling already. You weren’t ready to confess but it was high time. The secret was pushing you under. It got weird every time you saw his face.

“Hey guys!” He said and came up to you first to give you a hug. You returned a quick hug and pulled back as fast as you could, you were nervous. After he greeted everyone, he pulled the girl next to him to the front a little and introduced her.

“Meet Ji Nah, My girlfriend”

You freeze. His what? Dokyeom clearly saw the color drain out of your face. He immediately put his hand around your shoulder, slowly nudging you to snap out of it.

All you could see was the smile on SeungCheol’s face when he introduced her. He was happy. His dimples shined.

Dokyeom introduced you to her on behalf of you because you could barely say anything. They looked good together, they looked happy. That’s all you could think of.

“Im gonna go get another can of beer” you say fake smiling and excuse yourself.

You end up going to the bar and ordering yourself some shots instead. You really needed to get drunk or you know you would just cry of regrets. Like what if you had confessed earlier? Would things have been different?

You shrug the thoughts and focus on the 4 shots lined up in front of you. You were down two shots when you feel someone come up behind you. It was a familiar face. SeungCheol.

“Hey! Are you enjoying yourself?” He yells over the music.

You nod without being able to say anything, you didn’t know what to say or if you open your mouth nothing is going to come out.

You down the other two shots on the table.

“I'm sorry I didn’t tell you about Ji Nah earlier, I just wanted to be sure” he confessed. You shake your head this time. It was odd you didn’t say anything but SeungCheol didn’t seem to detect anything.

Just like clockwork your phone rings and you excuse yourself to take it. You didn’t say a word to SeungCheol and you sigh of relief about that. You go out of the club to get some air.

“I was looking everywhere for you” you hear Dokyeom’s voice while you had your head tilted up to push back the tears to where they came from.

“Oh hey” you greet him back, trying super hard to not choke up.

“I'm sorry about his girlfriend, no one knew” he apologized that he pushed you to confess.

“It’s okay, timings have always been off for us, maybe its just not meant to happen, maybe it’s a sign from the universe that its not going to be good if we get together and someone up there is only trying to protect me from something bigger” you rant.

You were heartbroken but ranting helped you to keep the tears in check so you don’t have to go back to the party with your mascara all over your face.

“Do you want a hug?” He asks you and you nod.

He wraps you in a very comforting hug and apologizes again. You reassure him that it’s alright and you’ll get over it.

Will you really get over it? You really hope so.

———

You enter SeungCheol’s apartment with some stuff your mom sent over for him. You knew the code so you walked in, but on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t have.

Him and his girlfriend were having a screaming match.

“Ah, there she is,” his girlfriend exclaims sarcastically looking at you waltzing in the apartment.

She sighs and picks up her purse. “I’m leaving, Please don’t try to contact me” she leaves but also softly bumps into while doing so. What was that about? You were so confused.

“What was that about?”

“Leave Y/n” he says sternly.

“I just came to drop off this food my mom made for-“

You made eye contact with him and he looked furious. You had never seen him this angry. It made you stop in between your sentences.

“I said leave”

“Let me know if you need something” you say softly, leaving the food on the coffee table. You turn to leave.

“This is all because of you” you hear him say behind you.

“What?” It was almost like you didn’t hear him right.

“I have to constantly keep taking care of you, it was obvious she misunderstood”

There was silence for a bit. You didn’t realize he’d blatantly blame you like this.

“Then tell her that and don’t try to take care of me, I’m not a child, I’m sick of you doing it just to rub it in my face later, like some kind of leverage” you say out of frustration.

“We had a date that day”

You were horribly sick that night, to a point where you’d have to go to the hospital to get your fever reduced. You called him first to see if he was available because he lives in the same apartment building as you, it would’ve been way easier and faster. You did not know he was an a date with his girlfriend, Ji Nah and he had to leave her hanging to come to you and take care of you.

“You did not have to come that night to pick me up, I would’ve asked someone else if you weren’t available” you tell him. “You could’ve just told me, I only called because I thought you were home, literally 2 stories above me”

“You were sick, I was worried”

“Oh, I’m sorry I fell sick on your date day” you say sarcastically.

He was getting on your nerves. You were not gonna get blamed for his shitty relationships. You were already weirded out by the fact that he was dating someone. You had third wheeled with them one time and it made you sick to the stomach. Your feelings for him have always been on and off, they come and they go. You never intended to break them up though. In fact you even distanced yourself from them and got yourself a boyfriend. After all this, him blaming you for breaking them up really pissed you off.

“I care about you y/n more than anything, it's in my blood to drop everything to come to you at this point, that's all I’ve ever known” out of context it’s probably the sweetest thing he has said to you.

“Doesn’t mean you get to blame me for it, this is on you, don’t try to ‘win’ a fight with me because you lost one with Ji Nah, its not gonna make you feel any better”

You step out of the building thinking some spicy food could help you with all this stress. Were you too harsh? Maybe. It pissed you off that he’d blame you like that. Its now raining but you decided to walk anyway because it was close and it was only drizzling.

Two women walked away from SeungCheol that day, but he only wanted to fix things with one of them.

You hear footsteps behind you rushing towards you. You turn around for safety reasons. It was a little late in the night and that scared you.

“Y/N”

You almost let a squeal out. “You scared me”

He quickly apologized for that but you still don’t know why he came out behind you. He let you in his umbrella so you don’t get anymore wet than you were.

“What do you want” you crossed your hands over your chest.

“I’m sorry I was angry about something else, I was angry at myself”

“Okay good, thanks” you were still mad, the apology didn’t make anything better.

You turned to leave again. You needed to cool off.

“No wait, I’m not done, listen to me” he says as he grabs your arm to turn to look at him. His hand slid down from your elbow to your palm as he talks.

“I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t blame you, its my fault, I messed up”

“Exactly you could’ve just told me that day SeungCheol, I have other friends I could’ve asked, you don’t have to play savior everytime”

He pulled you a bit closer as the drizzling rain from earlier became a little stronger that made you stand a bit closer under his umbrella. He instinctively push his umbrella to your side to shield you from the water dripping from the umbrella itself in turn getting soaked himself.

“It’s not about that”

You pull him into the umbrella closer to you by his shirt so he’s not getting rained on.

“Y/n” you hear him sigh. He was standing so close now you had to look up a bit to talk to him.

“I messed up because I was in love with someone else the whole time”

“What does that even me-“

You felt a pair of cold lips on yours before you could even finish the sentence.

That was the first time he acknowledged he might actually be in love with you.

Your first reflex was to kiss back and you did exactly that. You got so carried away you even let the umbrella tilt to a side soaking the both of you. His arms were completely wrapped around you and you forgot how much you missed this. You had kissed this boy twice before and everything only left you wanting more.

You suddenly realize something in the middle of this kiss that felt like you wanted it to last forever. You pull away slowly trying to savor everything but also feeling horribly guilty about something.

This was all so confusing. The timings have always been so horrible for the two of you.

“I have a boyfriend, Cheol”

——

You find yourself in front of SeungCheol’s apartment door. You were scared to go to your own home, because your boyfriend, ex boyfriend of 2 months, knew your address. You didn’t want to risk it.

You had just returned from your now ex’s apartment after you breaking up with him. He found out you kissed SeungCheol and cheated on him a while ago and he had been using that to abuse you over and over for the past 2 weeks.

But you had decided today was the day you leave him for good and prayed you won’t get beat up.

You were scared of him, this wasn’t the first time he had been aggressive. It was usually very verbal and recently escalated to physical intimidation. He was always insecure of SeungCheol, he would even ask you to stop being friends with him. He was sweet in the beginning, maybe it was because he was trying to woo you but soon enough he got comfortable and you saw a side to him you wished he didn’t have.

This time, he had struck you, with the ring on his finger that left a scratch on your face, leaving it to bleed a little. Your cheek was stinging by the time you left his apartment somehow. You were scared for your life and really thought something very dangerous and traumatic was going to happen to you today. Heck, you weren’t sure you’d get out of his apartment alive.

‘SeungCheol, promise you’ll take care of y/n’ you hear your mother’s voice in your head. “He’ll help, '' you mutter to yourself before ringing the doorbell. The door clicks open.

“Y/N, what are you doing he-“

He is stopped mid sentence looking at your bruised face. You didn't know what else to do, or where to go, but how do you tell him that?

His body freezes.

“Did he hit you?” You couldn’t even look at SeungCheol’s face. You could hear the rage.

“We’re going to file a complaint”

“Wait wait, I don’t-“ he ends up dragging you to the police station. All this scared you. You didn’t want to file a complaint because that would mean asking your ex boyfriend to keep seeing you if you do sue him. It was too much.

You end up at the police station, you were hiding behind SeungCheol bunching his sleeve in a fist. All this made you so anxious you were trying to put on a brave face.

The police end up taking a few pictures and issuing a restraining order against your ex boyfriend. They ask you to repeat everything that happened. SeungCheol was always by your side squeezing your hand encouraging you to tell them everything. You were being so strong, you were surprised but you figured it had something to do with SeungCheol’s presence.

After all the fiasco, you head back. You walk in silence, you don't know what to say to him. You pull at his sleeve to stop him and make him look at him. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for helping” you say to him softly looking over.

“Thanks for coming to me” he pets your head.

It was almost 8pm now. You pass a convenience store and you were suddenly pulled into it. “We need to clean you up” he said and grabbed some medicines and bandaids.

“Sit down,” he says, reaching a bench nearby, opening up all the medicines. He holds your face ever so gently like you’d break if he put any pressure.

“This is going to sting” he said and slowly dabbed at your wound. You winced.

“Why do I feel like I’ve done this before?” He chuckles to himself.

“You probably have”

——

You end up going back to his place for the night. You didn’t want to feel alone. You were scared your ex boyfriend would come back.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say, wearing a pair of his oversized pajamas.

He was sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come back out. He had already washed up. Neither of you said much, it was comfortable silence though.

“Do you want to eat some ramyeon?” He asks you straight up and you were so flustered, considering the sexual innuendo around it.

“Yah, what are you saying?” You blush.

“What? You don’t want it? I’m gonna make some for myself, I’m not sharing” He teases.

You follow him into the kitchen to watch him make some ramyeon.

He starts cooking the ramyeon while you chop some veggies for it. “You’ve been very strong today” He says and everything goes silent again. You only hear the boiling of the food on the stove.

He was right, you’ve been strong all day. It’s like you’re consciously avoiding to think of it. You nod, not taking your eyes off the spring onions you were cutting. Regardless of the concentration you had on the chopping, you end up hurting yourself.

“Waah, yah, why are you this clumsy?” He pulls your hands toward the sink to wash it first.

You wanted to sob, you were tired. It was a long day. Being strong all day only meant you’ll break down when everything’s quiet. You were never strong. People only hurt you when you let them. You shouldn’t have gone over, none of it would’ve happened. Without realizing, you are now sobbing into your elbow, putting it over your eyes to try and stop the tears or at least hide your face from SeungCheol.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” he says not sure what to do.

“Come here” he snakes his hands around your waist to hold you, rubbing your back to comfort you.

“I was so scared,” you say into his neck with your hands on your face. He understood that you needed to get that sob out of your system, the one you’ve been suppressing for hours now.

He pulls back to take your face in his hands, but lets it go immediately assuming it hurts and put his back down on your lap to hold your hand instead.

“You’re safe now” he says making eye contact, that reassured you more.

You nod. He puts his forehead to yours. His face was so close to yours.

“It’s not your fault”

“It think it was”

“Do you trust me?” He says and you nod. “Then trust me, its not your fault, some people are just horrible, you didn’t deserve it”

You sniffle and he pulls back. One of his hands goes to fix your hair and push it off your face. His fingers trace the prints his hands left on your face.

“Does it hurt?” You could see his heartbreaking for you.

“A little, it’s okay, it’ll be okay tomorrow” you try to smile.

“Do you feel better?” You nod again.

“Great because you’re getting snot on my shirt” you smack his arm. “Stop” you clean up the snot on your face with your hands and jump off to wash your face.

You come back after washing your face and feeling better. SeungCheol had set up some music on his phone when you re-entered the kitchen.

You end up having a dance party in his kitchen to cheer you up. “Dance with me y/n” you take his hand smiling you goof off to SNSD songs. Giggling and laughing showing off his cute dimples you loved so much. He has always tried his best to cheer you up.

By the end of the night you were swaying in his arms feeling the safest you have in a long time. Occasionally also eat the ramyeon you made.

----

You and Cheol decided to make a trip back to Daegu to see your parents for Chuseok. It was a chilly night and you back from your favourite restaurant. It was a little awkward between you and Cheol after your break up with your ex. You were both single and clearly head over heels for each other but neither of you wanted to believe it or make the first move. You would occasionally flirt but you would also get immediately weirded out or chicken out of a pick up line midway. He'd randomly hold your hand, and you didn't mind it. Neither of you knew what to name it, but you knew something was going on.

His mom wanted you to drop by to take a jar of food for your mom. You ended up hanging out in Cheol’s room like the old times for a bit.

“Who was your first love?” He asked you and you were puzzled why he asked you this suddenly.

“Suddenly?”

“I was thinking about mine, so I thought I should ask yours” he shrugs.

“What about her? Did you get to confess? Did she reject you?” You ask out of curiosity. You were also slightly jealous.

“I never told her” he shakes his head. “Were you scared?”

“A little bit’, he gestures with his hand. “What about your first love?”

“Mine?” You didn’t expect to confess this so you were flustered. “What about him?”

“Did you tell him?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Do you regret not telling him?”

You sigh and nod. It felt weird to talk about him to him but it also felt like a weight was being lifted.

“Everyday”

Maybe it’s still not too late. He’s here, you’re still friends, you just got out of a horrible relationship. Will he reciprocate? What if he doesn’t? Will it get too awkward? But the last time you had a conversation like this, he confessed. Had his feelings changed? Was that a lapse in judgment? Is it too soon? But this is Cheol, the number one man in your life, always. He's safe.

Your thoughts kept you occupied.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You” you answer without realizing.

“I'm right here, why are you thinking of me?”

He had a confused look on his face.

“You were my first love, Cheol” you say picking up an old photo of the both of you in the trunk of his dad’s car by the side of his table. Cheol, his dad and you went on a road trip to camp by a river in the suburbs that day. You thought riding in the trunk would be the most fun thing. Of course, his dad didn’t let you because it wasn’t safe.

“I was in love with this boy” you chuckle point at him and his bright smile in the picture.

He was flustered and shocked, but a smile crept up his face after a while, like he was proud.

He quickly opened up a drawer and pulled out something that left your jaw wide open. No way he still has that grasshopper bracelet you made him.

“Why do you still have that?” you say with your hands over your mouth in shock.

“How could I throw away something my first love gave me?”

Silence.

Did you hear that right or are you hallucinating? It was your turn to freeze.

“What?” you choke out after a few seconds.

“It’s true, I really loved you y/n, even when we were 10”

“Last time, when you kissed me,” you start, gathering courage out of thin air, knowing damn well it makes both of you uncomfortable, you were grateful both of you swept it under the rug and never spoke of it again.

“Um.. yeah, what, what about it?” He mutters scratching his ear. You could barely hear him, despite being a foot away.

“You said you were in love with me” you were fiddling with your thumb again, looking down at them.

“I did”

‘Way to make it awkward, y/n, just come out with it’ you think to yourself.

“Do you.. do you by any chance, still feel the same way?”

Crickets.

You were ready to get heartbroken again. In a fraction of a second your thoughts had gone to the most extreme of thoughts like moving away and never seeing him again because you couldn’t bare this confrontation.

You wanted to kick yourself. You prepared yourself in a second for the worst case scenario but you couldn’t believe what you heard.

“I do”

“You.. do?”

He walks over a little to close on distance.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a decade now, as much as we’ve tried to run away from it, the way our timings never matched up and it was frustrating, but I’ve been in love with you since you kissed me the first time, y/n”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you, Seunghcheol?” you ask louder this time.

He responds by whisking you up in his arms.

No way the timing is finally right, you couldn’t believe it.

You were finally going to kiss him, one you were longing for, for over a decade. This wasn’t practice, you weren’t going to forget it tomorrow, he WANTED to kiss you. You WANTED to kiss him.

A lot changed from the last four times you kissed and it felt a lot more real. You could do this anytime you wanted to. No more stealing glances, no more wishing to kiss him when you look at him playing video games, you can just do it.

Your hands around his neck, you could feel his breath on your face. His lips almost touch your-

“Seungcheol”

You hear his mom call out and that immediately breaks you away. “Damn it” you heard him say under his breath. You giggle putting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Coming!” He yells out and you eyes meet. He titled his head to gesture a “Lets go” and you were beaming a smile.

You get the jar full of food from his mom and he insists on carrying it for you. You don’t fight it. You were the happiest you’ve been.

His mom looks down at your intertwined hands and gives her son a raised eyebrow. Your first instinct was to let his hand go but seungcheol had a tight grip on your hands. It made you blush furiously.

You both walk out of the house with the jar in one of his hands and you completely hugging his other arm, because you could. You walk in silence, unsure of what to say but both your smiles were enough to keep you company.

You walk past the infamous stream. He stops at his tracks and stands to face you. It was cold so his hoodie cap was up.

“Do you remember this place?” He asks.

“I do, this is where I kissed you”

“Wrong”

You were confused.

“This is where I fell in love with you”

You couldn’t handle the cheesiness, you end up giggling a little.

“Its true, when you asked me if I could kiss you, it really stopped my heart, you had no idea what you did to me y/n”,

His hands were around your waist once again. As embarrassed as you were you couldn’t break eye contact with him. He was captivating under the moonlight.

“Just like you have no idea what you’re doing to me now”

That was the last thing he said before leaning in to finally kiss you. You shared the softest kiss. The one you were waiting for, for so long.

You rest your forehead against each other when you pull away.

“I love you” you whisper.

“I’ve been waiting for this for over a decade”

——

Epilogue

“Choi Gae Ul, why are you crying?” Seungcheol asks your 5 y/o. She was sobbing her eyes out holding what looked like a photo album.

You look closer and it was yours and Cheols marriage album. Your daughter, Gae ul was absolutely dejected about not making it to yiur wedding, and telling a 5 year old that she was born after the wedding was not logical to her.

“Mommy looks so pretty” she says in between her cries. That melts your heart.

“She does, doesn’t she? Dada got very lucky” he says pulling her into his lap. The whole scene in front of you makes your heart full.

The door bell rings and you see a friend of yours, Mingyu bring in his son for a playdate. They went to the same kindergarten and lived in the same apartment building. You'd often let the kids play together.

You had promised Mingyu and his wife to babysit for a few hours while they go on a date. It was the sweetest thing. You immediately agreed. You wave him goodbye while Bo hyun, his son runs into the house to greet his best friend.

You sit next to Seungcheol, resting your head on his shoulder, already feeling exhausted because your daughter thinks, if the sun is up, we all have to be up. She woke the both of you at 6:30am.

You see Cheol yawn and that triggers a yawn of your own. You make eye contact again and you playfully hit his arm. "Stop looking at me, now we're gonna keep yawning" like a relay race. You hear him giggle.

Sundays were the best, you got to hang out with your two cuties and forget everything about work.

You hear two tiny people running up to you holding hands lugging around your marriage album.

"Mommy, mommy, can I marry Bohyun when I'm older?"

You and Cheol share a look.

"Uh oh"

------

Stop this is the cutest thing I've written. Cute little detail: Gae ul means 'stream' in Korean.

#svt #svt fanfic #svt seungcheol #svt scenarios #seventeen #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #scoups #scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #caratland #carat #carats #idol!reader #idol x reader #svt dad #scoups dad

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hexiquin · 10 months

Text

Hyakki Daycare

rated: teen and up

word count: 3,222

warnings: outside of maybe 2 adult jokes (nothing graphic) sano have a little kid crush and 1 mild gross moment its pretty tame

(also not beta read)

~~~~~~~~

Summary:a couple of drabbles I did that are based my daycare au (in the order of a schedule)

*also they are human in this

Author's Note: I said I was writing yohaji fanfics and so I'll post my tamest one~☆

6:45 am

Abe Haruaki woke up with a jolt. He swung his head over to look up at his side table clock and quickly rushed out of bed.

He was late for work.

He was lucky that his brother insisted that he took a shower the previous night. He quickly brushed his teeth and combed his hair, clumsy pulling on his clothes.

As he rushed out the front gate to his family home his mother ran up to him with a piece of toast. She practically shoved it into his mouth. He gave her a muffled ‘thank you’ as he ran down the street.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7:18 am

“You’re late.”

Haru looked up to his fellow daycare worker, Miki Rintarou. The silver haired man gave him a fake smile as Haru untied his shoes.

“S-sorry-”

“You own me one, I made up an excuse for you.” The older man turned away from the dark haired man.

Haru finished untying his shoes and putting on the daycare issued slippers. They were plain white, and only allowed to be worn inside the building. Haru signed as he felt his feet sink into the soft plush pad.

“Abe, Help me wrangle the little monsters!”

Haru’s other co-worker, Hatanaka Izuna, held up a clipboard with a sign in sheet on it. Many of their parents were usually in a rush themselves, so the owner, Ashiya Douman, thought it might take less time if the sign in sheet was more mobile.

For the most part it worked out fine, though sometimes they needed an extra clipboard, which meant they needed another daycare worker to make sure it was signed in correctly.

Haru walked over to his co-worker, clipboard in hand. As he helped parents sign in, he greeted the children for the day.

“Hello Yuri-chan! How are you today?”

The proper young girl stared up at him with big dark eyes.

“Is Kuniko here?” Her blank stare bored into the young man.

Haru started to laugh nervously. “I think she’s with Miki-sensei right now.”

Yuri nodded her head before dashing off to reunite with the other girl.

Haru let out a sign before going back to help parents sign in. The sound of two excited girls' squeals ran out through the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:00 am

Miki clapped hands, getting the attention of all the children.

“Ok, kiddies! Time for breakfast.”

The three men helped the children to the dining table and placed the food out in front of them. The children flopped into the colorful chairs, quickly digging in.

“Tamao-kun! It's time for breakfast!”

“Coming!”

Tamao walked away from the window he had been at ever since he walked in the door. Miki watched as the child covered his mouth with his hands. His cheeks puffed out, some skin striking out at random intervals. Miki grabbed the young boy’s wrist.

“Tamao-kun… What do you have in your mouth?”

The young boy’s face filled with fear as he peered up at his teacher with wide pleading eyes. He shook his head out of the taller male’s grasp. He twisted and turned as Miki pried his mouth open.

The room filled with screams as a grasshopper leaped out of the boy’s mouth. Miki ran to stand on top of a children’s chair. His eyes were closed and he was yelling at the top of his lungs. The other children started to join in, though most didn’t see the reason behind their teacher’s screeching.

Hatanaka quickly leapt up, his teeth bared. He clapped his hands around the insect, trapping it in a cage of fingers. He rushed out the front door, knowing that Miki wouldn’t stop yelling until the creature was outside.

Haru ran towards the boy, taking him by the shoulders.

“Tamao! What have we told you about bugs?”

Tamao looked over the tall man’s shoulder, watching as Miki carefully got off the chair. He snapped his gaze back to Haru after he was sure Miki was safe back on the ground.

“Don’t bring any inside.”

“And?”

The boy looked away, curling in on himself. “And make sure that Miki-sensei doesn’t see..”

Haru let out a sigh.

“...Come on…Let’s wash out your mouth.”

“Do you get the strawberry flavored toothpaste?”

“Just restocked it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9:42 am

Haru walked Tamao back to the other children after he had made sure that Tamao had washed his mouth out thoroughly. He let go of his hand as the boy rushed off to join the others in a circle on the large rug.

“What took you so long.” Miki whispered over to the other as the children finished up their morning stretches to get their ‘wiggles’ out. The two grown men joined in as Hatanaka led the exercises.

“Dirt in the back of his teeth...again.” Haru moved his arms like a jellyfish.

“Seriously, why does that kid keep doing these things?” He started to goofily shake out his legs.

“I think he just wanted to show off his catches?” The two twisted their bodies left and right. “I guess when you came over he was scared of getting in trouble and panicked?”

Miki let out a huff. “Maybe he shouldn’t have done something that would get him in trouble! And who even thinks to shove a live bug inside their mouth as a first resort?”

The two men laughed behind the children's heads.

“Miki-Sensei! Haru-Sensei! Are you paying attention?”

The two immediately stopped as they snapped their heads towards the ex-delinquent.

“Yes!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10:15 am

The children’s independent indoor free time was usually used as an extra break for the three men. They hung around the walls as the kids played with various toys. The trio quietly talked with each other only to be interrupted by a tugging on their legs.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

Then men looked down to see the face of Sasuki Hime. She swayed back and forth.

The men quickly turned to each other.

“Jan-ken-pon!”

Miki grimaced as he lost the game of rock paper scissors.

“I wish Ibara-nee was here.” He glared over at the glasses wearing man. “But someone just had to get married and have kids with her.”

Hatanaka held back the urge to flip off his brother in law. “Well, she’s my wife, so I think I’m justified in my actions.”

Haru hung his head as Miki left to take the girl to the restroom. “Do you know when Ibara will be back?”

Hatanaka avoided the other’s gaze.

“Hatanaka?”

Silence.

“Hatanaka?”

The glasses wearing man gave him an hesitant smile. “A-actually, we just found out she was pregnant again..”

“Oh cracker jacks from heaven on high!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10:30 am

Several kids were playing in the swings as Beniko came over.

“Get off the swings, Ryouta.” The black haired girl folded her arms over her chest.

The young boy glared at her, his face slightly red. “Make me, Zashiki!”

She cracked her knuckles. “Just get off and let everyone else have their turns, and I’ll show you mercy.”

The boy clung to the chains connecting the seat to the pole structure.

“I said make me.”

“You asked for it.”

Suddenly the girl started to yank at the boy’s hair. The boy let go of one of the chains to pull her hand down. As he opened his mouth to bite her, Haru worriedly rushed over.

“H-hey, kids! Maybe this time we can calmly talk-”

The two children punched him in the face, knocking him flat on his back into the dirt. At the commotion, the two other men ran over to help him. They each took a child, as the rest of the unfazed children surrounded the dazed Haru. At this point they were used to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

11:53 am

Most of the kids were finishing up eating when Hijita rushed up to them.

“I don’t like this!”

The boy showed them his plate of veggies.

“Koutarou-kun, you know the rules.” Miki shook his head at the boy.

Haru crouched down next to the boy. “How about you eat two small carrots and then you can be done eating your veggies. You like carrots right?” Haru tilted his head with his eyes closed, hands on his knees.

“Don’t patronize me, wimpy-aki.”

Haru gasped, leaning away from the boy. His hands covered his mouth in shock.

“Koutarou-kun! That was very rude! You need to apologize!”

He turned to the silver haired teacher, squinting his eyes. “Why? I’m only speaking the truth. He is a wimp!”

Hatanaka pointed at a corner in the room with several chairs. The backs of them facing each other. “Hijita! Go to the naughty corner, now!”

A chorus of ‘oohs’ followed him as he joined Beniko and Ryouta.

“What ya in for?” The other boy asked.

“Called Haru-sensei a bad word.”

Beniko smacked the back of his head, not looking at him the whole time. “You know that Haruaki-sensei is sensitive!”

“Hey! I’m already doing time! Did you have to hit me?”

“You deserve it.” She pointed over towards their caretaker with tears in his eyes.

“But enough about your sins against humanity, what is the latest gossip? Hatanaka-sensei was staring us down the whole time we were eating, and I didn’t get the chance to hear any.”

Hijita smirked mischievously. “Get this! Ibara-sensei is pregnant again!”

Beniko shook her head. “Seems like this place is gonna be a sausage fest for another 9 months.”

“Hey! No talking while in the naughty corner!”

The trio quickly shut up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12:28 pm

The children gathered around the children sized tables. They were all working on making hanging jellyfish. The kids were taping ribbons, strings, and home brought lace trimmings to the insides of the cheap cut in half paper lanterns.

The children made colorful jellyfish, which meant they also made colorful trash. Miki walked around the talkative kids picking up their trash.

“I like your jellyfish!” Koizumi cheerfully said.

Miki looked up to see who she was talking to. He turned to look at the two jellyfish in the hands of the Ogata twins. One was pale pink and the other was pitch black. The young girl was probably talking about the brighter colored jellyfish.

As he looked closer at the two’s craft he started to feel like something was off. He stalked over to the boys slowly realizing that they look strangely similar to…

“Rin! Kou! Naughty corner now!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1:09 pm

“Seimei, can you help me read this?” A small child asked in his tanuki themed hoodie. Sano blushed and looked at the ground, his hands holding a book behind his back.

Haru looked up from his squatting spot next to the children’s bookcase. Most of the children already knew how to read age appropriate books, so the caretakers usually just had to help them pick out books. Sure some of them needed a bit more help, but Sano Mikoto was not one of those kids.

The boy was remarkably smart for his age. He usually would be reading by himself around this time, getting calmed down for their nap time like the rest of the kids.

Haru gave the young boy a bright smile. “Of course!”

After getting an ok from the man, Sano tried to hop into Haru’s lap, surprising him. Haru picked up the boy and sat him down next to him. Haru knew from the other kids’ comments that his lap was more boney than comfy. Plus Sano always seemed awkward when around him, Haru didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

Sano looked a bit disappointed.

“Ok, let’s start-”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1:34 pm

The kids started to pick their spots to nap in. Many had already chosen a place to lay down. Haru handed out blankets, making sure they each had one. Miki walked over to the light switch to turn it off. Putting the ac at an appropriate temp, Hatanaka fiddled with the old remote.

Ogoso worriedly jerks his head left and right. He trembled as he looked out at the empty spots.

“Saguru? What are you waiting for?” A soft voice spoke to him. “If you don’t go now there won’t be any good spots left.”

Ogoso turned to look at the boy to his right. They had short pigtails and a metric ton of overly cutesy hair clips, creating a rainbow on his head.

“T-touya!” The boy shied away from his friend. “I, um, wanted to nap in a bigger space…”

Fuji looked behind him on the now full sleeping mat.

“Seems like all the roomy spots are filled.” The young boy sighed. “Why did you even want to hog a big spot?”

Ogoso’s face flushed. He turned his gaze away from the other. Swaying side by side, he took a moment before speaking.

“I-i wanted to sleep next to you…”

Fuji's eyes widened at his confession. The cutesy boy grabbed his hand and walked him over to the only spots left, the ones closest to the ac. Fuji manhandled Ogoso so that his back was towards the warm mass of other children. Placing himself as the last barrier between the shy boy and the cold air, Fuji scooted closer to Ogoso so they could be face to face.

“T-touya! Aren’t you cold?” Ogoso whispered.

Fuji chuckled at his question.

“It’s ok. I like the cold anyway.” He snuggled closer to him and wrapped the blanket he had grabbed from Haru around them both. “Plus, my mom says that cuddles are the best way to warm up.”

Giggling to themselves, the two kids started to fall asleep, cuddling close together.

“Aw~ They’re so adorable.” Haru giggled as he put the extra blankets away.

“Yeah, they look pretty cute like that.” Hatanka noted as he walked back into the building's small kitchen, deciding to get the dishes done early.

“Kind of makes you forget their little terrors.” Miki walked over to take a seat in a kid sized chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2:45 pm

“Natsumi-chan, try this!” A boy practically floated over to the girl, his offered spoon seemed to melt.

“No! All the snacks you share taste bad, Yanagida!” The pink haired girl rapidly shook her head to avoid whatever he was trying to offer.

“They’re not snacks, they’re experiments!” He spoke with a big smile on his face.

“And what am I? A lab rat!” She cried out in horror.

Miki sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The two kids always had something going on during their post nap snack. The silver haired man knew full well how this situation would end.

“I’ll get the mop and bucket…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:07 pm

When Ibara was still working, she had turned their ‘sing a long’ time into ‘karaoke’ time. The kids really loved it. Though that didn’t mean it was perfect.

“Tenmaru-kun…what song is that from?”

“Naughty Mistic Space Princess, why?”

“Ah, um, don’t you think you want to sing a more age appropriate song for karaoke time?”

“My older brother is dating your boss. I think the better question is if you want to keep your job.”

“Listen here you little mistake, your brother is more like a boy toy than a boyfriend.”

“Hatanaka-sensei, do you mind explaining what a boy toy is?” The boy smirked at him.

“Hatanaka! Naughty corner now!”

“Haha!”

“You too, Tenmaru-kun!”

“Eat my shorts, punk!”

Some may say, it was even more chaotic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:32 pm

Haruaki took all the children out to the daycare garden while the two other adults cleaned up inside before the parents came to pick up their kids. He led a line of children out to the little flower garden.

Most of the kids used this time to play around the flower beds, but that didn’t mean Haru wouldn’t make them help out.

As Haru helped Mujina water some of the sunflowers, the other kids running around his legs, Haru felt a tugging on his pant leg. Haru turned and looked down, getting a face full of plants.

“These are you!”

Haru looked over his gift at Mamekichi. His face was covered in dirt and his pants had grass stains. He smiled up at him.

Haru took the greenery into one of his hands, using the other to pat the small boy.

“Thank you so much, Mame-kun! I’m gonna take this home and put it in a vase on my desk.” He gave the boy a quick hug.

Mujina looked over at the two, over watering the flowers slightly.

“Those are weeds.”

“I said what I said, Yakumo-kun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4:43 pm

As the kids ran around inside the building, Hatanaka and Miki smoked outside. With how short staffed they were since Ibara was still on maternity leave, the pair rarely got to smoke together. During the kids free break though, the pair left the Haru to watch the kids while they cleaned up.

“I swear, you better not get her pregnant a fourth time.” Miki took a drag of his cigarettes.

“Technically, I got her knocked up twice, the first two are twins.” Hatanaka let out a puff.

“Well, either way, don’t do it! We’re short staffed already!” Miki cried.

Hatanaka lightly hit him on the head. “Oh please, you just miss your onee-chan.” He let out some smoke through his nose. “You could just visit her, you know?”

Before Miki could say anything back to him, the door swung open.

“Seimei is crying on the floor again!” Sano yelled.

Hatanaka let out a sigh as he stomped out his cig. “Who did it this time?”

“Yanagida gave him a flower after he saw a bunch of the other kids give him some.” Mujina rolled his eyes.

Miki sighed his eyes. “I’ll get the mop and bucket...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5:58 pm

The daycare was empty. The whole place was already fully cleaned up. Sitting in the waiting room in the front were the trio of teachers and a small polite boy.

“Dad said he would be the one picking me up today…he promised me.” Nyuudou looked dejected.

Haru kept braiding his hair. “I’m sure he’s just running a little late.”

Hatanaka walked over to the door, now in his casual clothes. “Well, I have to go home, see you guys tomorrow.” He opened the door. “Bye Rensuke-kun!”

The little boy waved at him as he left.

Miki sighed as he braided Haru’s hair. “How about we wait until 6:15, and if he doesn’t come by then we can take you to your house.”

“Can we get some ice cream on the way this time?” Rensuke looked back at the men.

“Of course!” Haru beamed at him.

Suddenly the door swung open.

“Rensuke!” Mr. Nyuudou got on one knee, arms open to receive his son.

“Dad!” The small boy ran over to his father and hugged him.

“Sorry, his meeting went a bit later than what we thought.” One of his many servants told them.

“Oh that's ok~ Nothing to worry about.” Miki smiled cheerfully at the rich and important people in front of him.

As the large group left, the two men waved at the boy. The young child waved back at them, a sleepy smile on his face, hugging his father’s neck the whole time. Both let out a pleasant sign as they walked out of view.

“Want to get black out drunk~?”

“Only if you pay for the drinks, I used up all my pocket money last time.”

#cross posted on ao3 #hexi posting #yohaji #a terrified teacher at ghoul school #youkai gakkou no sensei hajimemashita #I'm not gonna link cause I dont need that kind of anxiety #Just don't want people to think that I plagiarized myself #fanfiction #might delete later #The more people see this the more I kinda want to go full 'going out of business sale' on this post

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trollprincess · 1 year

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Okay, look, I’m going to see “The Whale” on Saturday morning because I try to see all the Oscar-nominated movies prior to the ceremony each year. I love Brendan Fraser. I would see him in anything. But I want to quote Darren Aronofsky in a People magazine article in which he says:

I show you that so that I can introduce some of you to Darlene Cates:

This is Darlene Cates, who played the mom in “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.” There is a lot to complain about when it comes to that movie. Johnny Depp is in it, so your mileage may vary on seeing *him* in anything anymore, and a very young Leonardo DiCaprio plays a mentally disabled kid, one of the biggest “yikes” in his career. (And his first Oscar nomination because of course the Oscars decided to possibly award that. Thankfully, he was up against Tommy Lee Jones in “The Fugitive” and no one can win against that.)

Anyway, Darlene was not an actress before she was approached to play the role by the author of the book and the writer of the movie, Peter Hedges. He saw her on an episode of “Sally Jessy Raphael” entitled “Too Heavy to Leave the House,” which I imagine was as sensitive as it sounds.

Darlene plays the mom of five kids, four of whom still live at home, half of whom are grown, one of whom is unfortunately Johnny Depp. The kids have conflicting feelings about Mama, whom they all love, but who draws the sort of repeated teasing and harassment you can imagine in a small town when you’ve gained so much weight moving is a struggle and you rarely leave the house.

Despite never having acted before, Darlene is the movie’s warmth. She is loving but not one to put up with bullshit, she worries about her kids (especially Leo’s character), and she will defend those kids even if it means making herself the subject of public view. In retrospect, she should have been nominated for Best Supporting Actress, but I suppose it’s hard to get that sort of attention from the Academy when Leonardo DiCaprio is also on the screen literally beheading grasshoppers with the mailbox while laughing.

Aronofsky saying, “We couldn’t find the right actor that size for the job,” is bullshit for several reasons - Daniel Franzese from “Mean Girls” is in the same article all, “If you were looking for someone to play a fat gay guy, I am RIGHT HERE” - but … fine. You can’t find the right actor, look for someone with the proper qualifications who’s not an actor. You think you can’t find a fat gay man in THIS country? In America? For real?

“But I have to know they can act first!”

No, you said you need someone who can “pull off the emotions” of being a fat gay man with health issues. Again, you think you can’t find that person in this country? Peter Hedges found Darlene Cates on an insulting talk show. Her performance feels authentic because it IS authentic. All of what she goes through in the movie are things she’d spoken of going through herself. The teasing, the harassment, the shame and anger. All of it.

Unfortunately, Darlene passed away in 2017. But I feel like if she were still here she’d have something to say about all this.

#ableism #fatphobia #Christ that article is frustrating #Fraser also defends the fat suit which … sigh

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roxannarambles · 1 year

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ship: nemona x juliana

prompt: obvious flirty juliana/oblivious nemona

notes: juliana has my all-bug team, just for funsies

Nemona was down to her last pokemon, and Juliana had been acting weird the entire battle.

It seemed to be some kind of brand-new strategy the young Champion was throwing her way, because today it was all about the mind games. Nemona hated to admit it to herself, but it had managed to fluster her. A lot.

Now at the most pivotal moment of the match, Juliana didn't even look like she was paying attention. Nemona bit back the urge to snap sharply when she issued an order to her Meowscarada, and forced the command in a calm, level tone. Juliana didn't look to be in a hurry to issue her own command, however.

With a playful smile on her face, she spoke,

"Nemona . . . . I love these matches between us but I always think of how much a shame it is that we're so far away from each other during all this excitement."

Nemona cocked her head to the side like a confused Lycanroc.

"Wh-what? Juliana, what are you talking about? Of course we're far apart, we'd get totally slammed by our pokemon's moves if we weren't."

Juliana heaved a sigh, as though they were in the midst of having a lazy, casual chat instead of a heated pokemon battle.

"I know, but it just sucks, is all. I wanna see your reactions better. I wanna be closer to you."

Nemona crossed her arms, forcing herself to remain calm. Ignore it, just ignore it. Don't fall for whatever weird mind games she's playing.

God, she was good at them, though.

"Are you gonna keep fighting or are you gonna just let your Lokix jump around the arena for the next hour?"

Juliana laughed a good-natured laugh,

"Of course I want to keep fighting. Sorry, I was just thinking aloud. Hunter! C'mere, Hunter!"

The large grasshopper turned and bounded over to its master, and then Juliana leaned down to whisper something to its ears. Or, er. Its face? Did grasshoppers even have ears? Whatever was going on, Juliana was being strangely secretive about it.

"What are you whispering about?"

Juliana leaned back up and pointed, saying,

"Go ahead, Hunter!" The bug sprinted into action, charging ahead to meet Meowscarada. Finally, it seemed Juliana was interested in re-joining this fight. Nemona ordered,

"Flower Trick, Mew-Mew!"

The graceful feline used its magic to manifest a flower bouquet and gave a quick spin, preparing to fling it. With almost frightening speed, Lokix sprang up and behind Meowscarada, as if preparing to hit it with one of its Sucker Punches. Nemona flinched, anticipating the strike. But for some reason, it never came-- Lokix made a strange little leap at Meowscarada and seemed to try and hit her, but then he just scrambled out of the way and bounded back over to its master. It seemed unlikely it had missed its Sucker Punch, since it was positioned perfectly for it, but, what else could it have been?

However, when it the bug had retreated, Juliana leaned down and held out her hand; the bug seemed to hand her something, and she grinned widely. Nemona squinted, trying to see (okay, maybe Juliana had a point, it did kind of suck how far apart they had to stand), but it was only when Juliana held it out that she realized. It was a little orange flower from Meowscarada's bouquet.

Squaring her jaw, Nemona chastised her battle partner,

"Jules! You've been messin' around this whole match, c'mon, take it seriously!"

She had meant it to come out sternly, but her voice had wobbled with a bit of a whine. Juliana giggled, answering,

"I am, I am! I just. . . I keep getting distracted by you. I love watching the spark in your eyes when you're fighting."

Okay, that, that was the thing she kept doing! Nemona felt her face warming and she growled, determined not to let Juliana win at these mind games. "Y-you're just trying to mess with my head! It's very clever, but you're not gonna get to me!"

A look of disappointment seemed to flash on her rival's face, but she seemed to recover and looked excited, as if an idea had just occurred to her.

"Hey! Nemona, would it be okay if I let another of my pokemon out right now? Not to fight, just to use one of their field moves in a completely non-battle way, I promise. Would that be okay?"

Nemona stared at her, feeling her mind spinning.

"Wh-what? Why? I don't understand."

Juliana held her hands together and pleaded,

"Pleeease? I'll be super quick about it, I promise!" Ughhh. She was always so cute when she gave her the puppydog eyes. Honestly, Nemona never should have taught that trick to her.

Groaning, Nemona relented,

"Fine, fine, go ahead. Just hurry up."

She trusted her battle partner implicitly, of course, and knew she'd never do anything against the rules. But she had no clue what Juliana was getting up to, and it made her nervous. She watched as Jules pulled a pokeball from her belt and sent out her Rabsca, the tiny bejeweled insect hovering silently in the air. Juliana grinned.

Then she reached out and touched the glowing ball of energy that her Rabsca held, at the same time uttering an order,

"Khepri, teleport!"

Nemona's mouth hung open in surprise, but in just a few seconds, Juliana re-appeared, now suddenly right in front of her, her face a mere breath away, her hazel eyes gazing mischievously into her own. Automatically, Nemona jerked in surprise.

"Hi!" Juliana chirped, with a silly little smile, but before Nemona could react, her friend reached out to her. It took Nemona several seconds to realize she was tucking the orange flower behind her ear, with a gentle, almost reverent amount of care. There was a soft, sweet look in Juliana's eyes as she did it, her fingers brushing strands of hair back tenderly, and Nemona felt herself blushing intensely at the contact.

Then, as quick as a flash, Juliana winked at her, saying,

"Bye!"

She tapped her pokemon again, ordering another, "Teleport!" and poofed out of existence, reappearing back on her side of the battlefield.

Without missing a beat, she shouted to her Lokix,

"Lunge!"

Nemona sucked in a breath, trying desperately to marshal her wits, but her brain was still stuck on trying to process what had just happened-- whuh, what, huh?!-- and the Lokix was already bounding across the battlefield, coming right for her Meowscarada. Belatedly, she yelped,

"M-Mew-mew, I, uh, y-you-- Play Rough!"

Unfortunately, it was too late. Lokix barreled right into Meowscarada, knocking her out cold, bits of flowers spraying all over the place from the impact. The attack had been forceful enough that Nemona nearly had to step out of the way. From the other side of the field, Juliana whooped and jumped up and down, cheering her pokemon,

"Good job, Hunter! Come on back now!"

Her heart pounding, Nemona balled her hand into a fist and protested,

"H-hey! That's, that's-- Juliana! You can't just--"

The young Champion approached her, arms crossed, a bit of a smug little smile settled on her pretty features.

"I can't what?"

Nemona opened her mouth to finish her thought, but struggled to complete it. She shut her mouth and thought for a moment.

Then she closed her eyes and sighed.

With a reluctant smile, she admitted,

"Ugh, okay. To be honest, you got me good. That was a masterful display of distraction tactics. Good job, Jules.”

When she opened her eyes again, Juliana wasn't looking quite so jubilant anymore. Her tone a little lackluster, she replied,

"Distraction tactics. Um . . . yeah. I guess that's what that was."

Feeling slightly confused, Nemona agreed,

"Well, yeah. That's what you were doing that whole match, right? I gotta say, I'm pretty impressed. I've never even considered mind games as a part of pokemon battling. It kinda adds a whole new dimension to things. Maybe you could teach me sometime? I gotta find new ways to keep my opponents on their toes . . ."

Juliana waved a hand to cut off her babbling, and she chuckled, relenting,

"Okay, okay. I'll . . . I'll teach you. Sure."

Excited, Nemona asked,

"When do you wanna start? I have time right now, if you can stay a little longer. Do you have any ideas on how to mess with Arven? I was thinking I could do something really erratic and confuse him. . ."

Juliana gave a quiet sigh, watching Nemona with fond eyes as she spoke. Flirting with Nemona was gonna take a little more work than she thought, it turned out. But, no matter, she'd find a way to make the message clear eventually.

Hopefully.

#pokemon #nemona #nemona x juliana #why is nemona using flower trick on a bug foe? idk you'll have to ask her since she did it in my game pffft #julinemo #pokemon scarlet #pokemon s/v #terajules #julinemo fanfic #mystuff

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anapotatowriter · 7 months

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SPOOKTOBER

AYYYYY WHAT'S UP GUYS

I HAVE MISSED TUMBLR SOOOOO MUCH, YOU AWESOME WEIRDOS

Now cause of studies and stuff, I was incredibly uninspired to write ANYTHING

But now I'm opening requests for a Halloween special *distant cheering*

Soooo, please find below the prompts, and send in requestsssssssss :) My fandom list can be found in my masterlist :))

tagging a few of my moots on this wonderful platform: @itstheghostofmypast @snowcake666 @curseofaphrodite

"I will haunt you in your next life" "Enjoy the view ;)"

2. "Would you date me if I was a ghost?" "Babe, it's 3 IN THE MORNING-"

3. "I want a pumpkin spiced latte :(" "... why is there pumpkin in the latte????? THAT IS A CRIME AGAINST LATTES-"

4. "Trick or treat!" "... Halloween is 30 days away." "Halloween isn't a day, young grasshopper... it's a lifestyle"

5. "WHO SPENT 4000 DOLLARS???" "I COULDN'T LEAVE THE SKELETON ALONE WITHOUT HIS FRIENDS :((("

6. "I am sleepy..." "I can put you to rest. Permanently."

7. "I am going to kill you." "Oooo, how festive~"

8. "How did you make this much of a mess in 5 minutes??" "... that's what she said..." "I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE PUMPKINS."

9. "Trick or treat? More like I'll teach you a trick, and you'll give me a treat ;)" "Babe, you're drunk."

10. "I'll make you scream ;)" "Babe, horror movies do that too, you're not special."

Obviously if you have any other halloween promt, feel free to send it in!

HAPPY MONTH BEFORE HALLOWEEN GUYSSSSSS <3

#spooktober #please send requests #harry potter x reader #the umbrella academy #pirates of the caribbean #narnia x reader #mauraders x reader #x reader #halloween

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bapydemonprincess · 10 months

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Mey Rin used to cry all the time

all the time as a baby and a tot, her mother desperate doing everything in her power to soothe her.

All the time even in her earliest memories after...

The desperate days and nights of scampering and scrambling around the town to find what she could to get by.

And then crying at what she didn't have.

Even after meeting up with Jan and Hao she would still sob when they were unlucky a day or two, or were bullied and attacked, or scared off by the most viscous of adults that surrounded them.

Even after learning to hone her skills with her slingshot and fulfill her duty to shoot off earrings and other such richest from these foolish nobles.

She'd cry for not being able to do more than that, to just get the things they needed like everyone else. She might've cried too when they finally had bread or meat, but then she'd cry again when it was all gone and they had to start over.

She cried especially hard the first night after their deaths. In the dark, cold, smelly room she was put into for the night until they needed her the next day.

But she knew then to keep it quiet, despite her extreme grief.

And then her first killing happened.

She not only wanted to sob, but to scream.

But after only a bit of crying, carefully, so, so.. so softly..

She forced herself to stop.

And kept stopping herself.

And then...

It was easy just to not cry.

It was easy to just stare into darkness...

And feel sorrow but no longer weep.

And at some point...

She couldn't if she'd tried.

She would still think about the things she was doing.

She would think about the people's lives she was ending.

In an instant.

Gone forever with just one bullet.

Out of no where.

But that...

Was all.

And then she was caught, rounded up, and made a maid after her failed attempt at shooting the Queen's Watchdog.

And she went along with all this, she supposed.

She was almost mad though for not getting a quick death...

And then she was finally giving spectacles to make it easier to see in front of her.

To see herself in the mirror.

To see...

..."Owl"...?

...."Rin"...?

...Mey Rin....

And then to not be able to think of anything else but her own reflection, staring at her, in a maid uniform and with pretty, neat, red hair. A clean round face and flushed cheeks. Big brown eyes behind those new spectacles.

Mey Rin.

Mey. Rin.

And it was much much later at night, the chirps of grasshoppers and the hoots of owls heard distantly surrounding the mansion.

And the young woman started to realize...

she was a young woman...

She wasn't as old as the ladies she'd stolen from...

But she was.. she was no longer a CHILD...

And...

A WOMAN.. a GIRL...

Mey Rin heard sobbing. Loud, gasping, choking sobs.

She realized they were hers as she came back to reality and back to the present.

In a soft, warm bed. At night. In a large house. In a protected house. Surrounded by others but others who wouldn't kill her. Who wanted her to help them. And to give her something in return.

And she was no longer a child. She was no longer being threatened. She was no longer starving and dirty and cold and blind and angry and lonely and

She kept sobbing openly all night, drenching her soft warm pillow.

Until she passed out, more or less.

And in the morning when awoken by the now familiar "knock knock" on her door, she PANICKED!

She almost practically grabbed her pillow and threw it under the bed!

She rushed to wipe her eyes and clear them desperately before finally answering the door.

She couldn't be caught crying!!!!

She met Sebastian Michaelis' expectant form right outside and tried giving the butler a firm serious face and a salute.

"I'm u-up and ready, yes I am, Mr. Sebastian!!"

The butler's thin eyebrows curved in a confused way.

"Are you.. certain? You're not catching a cold, now, are you?"

Mey Rin felt like collapsing instantly.

"N-No, not at all, I'm not!! I swear, I- uh- I just-"

"Your nose is bright red and you have dark marks under your eyes, Mey Rin."

"O-Oh, um, w-well..."

The butler sighed, seeming mildly annoyed, but...

Not.. angry and about to do something..

With a stern look, he gave her a firm, crisp command.

"Go get water and properly wash up, understand? And if perhaps your nose is especially irritated, perhaps by the feathers in your pillow or some kind of fabric you are wearing, please be sure to let me know so we can arrange changes."

Mey Rin blinked.

Sebastian raised his brows again.

"Are we clear, Mey Rin?"

"-OH, u-um, I.. I guess.. I-I mean, yes, yes sir! I- I will do that if I need to, I will!!"

"Very good. Get to work on cleaning the closest study once you are ready, though again if the dust irritates you too, let me know. We'll work this out."

Sebastian remained very serious and firm throughout, but again, Mey Rin never felt he was about to.. punish her.. or scold her any more than the orders he'd given her abruptly.

And he was walking away..

And...

Mey Rin choked practically right there on a sob.

She closed her bedroom door quickly and immediately curled up right there, legs bent, hands fisted and up to her eyes, pushing her spectacles up.

She had to sob and sob and sob some more.

And she breathed.

And she tried to pull herself together.

She was so confused..

...How easy it was to cry again.

She sniffled some as she finally pulled her hands away from her face.

And then

She smiled.

Blurry eyed and mouth trembling.

Nose running and cheeks hot and red.

She smiled.

And kept crying.

#kuroshitsuji #mey rin #sebastian michaelis #my writing #tw trauma #tw childhood trauma #oooogh I blame that lil pic of her crying earlier #also good night ya'll I'm DEAD

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thefreakymunson · 1 year

Text

Leather and Lace, Chapter 3

taglist: @fuckmeupeds @xcatnapsx @sidthedollface2 @aysheashea @eddiemunson95 @micheledawn1975 @sherrylyn628

A/N: Sorry for no cool photo this week. I've just been biting at the bit to get this story finished up. Everyone thank @sidthedollface2 for the idea for this fic, btw! Thank you for trusting me to write your vision!

LEATHER AND LACE MASTERLIST

Wednesday morning in chemistry class, Eddie seemed to walk in on cloud 9. There was an er of new confidence as he strolled into the classroom and all Luna could imagine was what went on in the Shell station after she left for the club. It sort of turned her stomach, knowing that Elizabeth let him think he had found the girl he was looking for, even though it wasn’t the truth. Nauseated, but not enough to tell him the truth. In a way, she was the same level of cowardice as Elizabeth. Maybe that would change, soon…

“Hey.” Luna said as she leaned forward in her chair and tapped him on his shoulder.

“How can I be of service, Ms. Luna?” Eddie asked, trying to determine whether or not to turn around to face her.

“I don’t have to work tonight,” Luna said with a soft smile, brushing his hair off of her desk with her fingers, “I was thinking we could hangout…maybe you can teach me the Dungeons and Dragons rules. If you’re not busy with Elizabeth.”

“Young grasshopper, that will take more than just a day, but if you’re down, then so am I.” Eddie gave her a lopsided grin as he looked at her over his shoulder, “You better be ready to take some notes, though.”

“I’ve got a photographic memory,” she said, tapping her temple with the end of her pencil.

“Oh, you do?” Eddie asked, turning sideways in his chair to get a good look at her.

“I do,” Luna nodded, “I don’t even take notes for this class. I can just remember it all.”

“Don’t---”

“Mr. Munson!” The teacher’s voice boomed in the otherwise quiet room, “A weeks after school detention since you can’t seem to keep your eyes forward.”

“Serio-“

“Do I need to make it two?” O’Donnel looked at him skeptically, “You know I will. Turn around and pay attention.”

“I was talking, too.” Luna shrugged, “It’s not all Eddie. I got his attention first.”

“Two days after school detention for you then, Ms. Adams.” O’Donnel shrugged, “Got to say, I’m a bit disappointed.”

Luna rolled her eyes once the teacher turned around to face the chalk board again and Eddie leaned his head backwards until he could see Luna’s face.

“Troublemaker.” He said just above a whisper, voice strained just enough from his position, causing her to laugh.

“Jerk.” Luna snorted, flicking him in the middle of his forehead with her finger, making him laugh as he sat back up straight in his seat.

The rest of the way zoomed by, thankfully, but she knew when she was reporting to after school detention in the library, it would go by slowly. It always did. Not that she had ever been in trouble much – she tended to keep to herself, but she had heard the stories of it being boring.

She was bent over the sign-in paper, scribbling her name down when she felt someone standing behind her. She didn’t have to look far, the mild mop of hair catching her eye, and she bit back a smile when he leaned down beside her.

“Sign me in, yeah?” he asked, sliding a few baggies into the pocket on the inside of his leather jacket.

“Sure,” she said as she slid her pencil down to the next row underneath hers, “Jerk Munson.”

“Funny,” Eddie squinted his eyes at her, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in after school detention.”

“Because I’ve never been in it,” Luna shrugged as she looked out at the available seats, “Back row?”

“Back row,” Eddie nodded as he led the way through the tables.

“So what are we supposed to do in detention?” she asked, sliding into the seat beside of him at the two person table.

“I usually sleep,” Eddie shrugged, “They don’t really care as long as you’re quiet and not fucking around…teacher usually falls asleep, anyway.”

She watched as he scooted his chair back a little it and crossed his arms, leaning forward to rest his head on his arms. She done the same, mirroring his image as they stared at each other, a small smile creeping on his face as he watched her blatantly mock him.

“I’m not going to allow you to sleep, you know that right?” She smirked, “I’m going to annoy you every time you close your eyes.”

“You’re a lot eviler than I thought you were,” Eddie laughed.

“I’m only quiet to keep my plans for world domination inside of my mind,” Luna smiled.

“Mmm, world domination? Not just Hawkins?” Eddie laughed.

“Why would I ever just want to dominate Hawkins?” She wrinkled her nose up and looked into his eyes, “When I could take over the entire world.”

“Always dream big, Luna Fern.” He smirked.

She laughed softly, and Eddie watched as her lips stretched thin in her smile, revealing a set of beautiful white teeth. He liked the way her eyes crinkled to the side when she smiled, reminded him of those rays of sunshine that just felt good when you got to witness them.

“So what’s going on with you and Elizabeth?” She asked quietly, daring to look into his eyes, “She’s still pretty pissed at me over last night for whatever reason.”

“Just talking, I guess.” Eddie shrugged, “We hooked up last night after you left, but I don’t know. I don’t think she’s who I thought she was…I think I got the wrong person.”

“Who did you think she was?” Luna asked, looking from his eyes to his lips and then back up. Everything in her was screaming to kiss him – make the first move, he was obviously blind. Liz would’ve kissed him, she would’ve reached over the desk, grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, and smushed her lips right against his.

But she wasn’t Liz right now. She didn’t have the confidence of her mask or the coolness of her gear. She couldn’t hide behind the stage persona in school. She was fearful that she’d scare him away if she acted on the impulse. For now, she was just plain jane Luna Fern who hid her body behind baggy band t-shirts and oversized jeans.

“Someone very different,” Eddie sighed softly, “You’re going to laugh at me if I tell you the truth.”

“I would never laugh at you,” Luna frowned, “Tell me. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

He was quiet for a moment, staring at her as if he was testing her. She gave him a small smile of encouragement and nodded him on and he knew she wouldn’t judge him – people like them, the outcasts, made friends wherever they could.

“Gareth and I went to this strip club for my birthday a few days ago called Busty Ladies a few towns over and there was this girl there…she wore a pink bunny mask.” Eddie huffed, “She was cool…and I seen what I thought was a Hawkins High Chemistry book in the front seat. No, I know it was one – I’ve seen one every day for the past 4 years, ya know? I thought it was her because it was of the perfume she wears.”

“The perfume?”

“Yeah. That strawberry scented stuff.” Eddie sighed, “Elizabeth told me she got it from your mom or something." Eddie shrugged, "I don’t know. Anyway…I think I’ve got the wrong girl…and I know you’re her friend, but…Elizabeth is kind of boring.”

Luna covered her mouth to stifle her laugh, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be talking anyway. Eddie’s brown eyes snapped to hers when she laughed and he stared at her for a moment, trying to decipher what she were laughing about.

“You’re right,” Luna nodded, “She is boring, isn’t she? I’ve fully expected her to be picked up by the jocks or something…Nancy had the bright idea to ask her to sit with us at lunch and it’s been downhill ever since then.”

“Downhill?”

“She’s cool, but she is boring, and I love her to death, but sometimes she takes jabs at me that are just constant low-blows.” Luna shrugged, “She thinks it’s funny.”

“It’s not funny to humiliate your friends or gut punch them,” Eddie frowned, “You shouldn’t put up with that just because you felt bad for her.”

“Shouldn’t, but I do, because I don’t have many friends.”

“I’ll be your friend,” Eddie said as he reached out and brushed his knuckles against hers. It was a tentative touch, but even just by the soft brush, she felt the tingles all over again.

By the time the bell rang signaling the end of detention, Luna was sweating in her oversized hoodie. The library wasn’t air conditioned at all and as she walked out the door behind Eddie, she pulled the hoodie over her head and sighed. When she looked up, she saw him staring at her with a slightly shocked expression.

“What?”

“Nothing…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of that hoodie.” Eddie shrugged.

‘Eddie you fucking dumbass, she totally just caught you staring at her tits’ Eddie thought to himself as he forced himself to look away from her.

“It’s comforting, I guess.” Luna shrugged.

“Mmm,” he said, squinting as he looked out to parking lot where his van was sitting, “You still on for the learning session tonight?”

“Yeah,” she gave him a small smile, tossing her hoodie over her shoulder, “Just let me know when.”

Eddie stared at the parking lot and realized his car was the only car there. He looked back down at her and frowned slightly, “How are you going to get home if Elizabeth didn’t stay?”

“I can walk,” Luna shrugged, “No big deal. I don’t live too far from here anyway.”

“Where at?”

“The trailer park – Forest Hills.” Luna said, nodding in the general direction.

“Shut up,” Eddie turned around to face her, “You live there?”

“Uh, yeah.” She shrugged, trying to not show the offense on her face, “It’s not the nicest trailers, but it’s a plac-“

“No, no.” Eddie cut her off, “That’s not what I’m saying. I live there, too.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “Me and my uncle Wayne.”

“Which one?”

“2121 right off of Ponderosa,” he said with a soft smirk, “How long have you lived there?”

“My entire life,” she nodded, “I live on the other end, though.”

“It’s too far to walk,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s too hot, too. You’ll die in this heat. Let me drive you. I’ll have to drive past there anyway.”

“Eddie, no, that’s-“

“C’mon,” Eddie waved her on out, “Stop acting like I’m doing you a big favor. I’m just dropping you off on my way through there. You can change and we can head over to my place.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged, “No big deal.”

If there was one thing about Eddie Munson she learned today, it was that he drove like a maniac. She was thankful for her seatbelt, because there were a few times she swore she was going to end up through the windshield as he took curves way too fast or slammed on brakes too fast. He was funny, though. A few times, his arm reached out to stop her from sliding into the dashboard. When he pulled into her driveway, she damned near got out and kissed the ground.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, giving him a small smile.

She was only in the trailer for a few minutes before she came back to the door and motioned for him to come inside. The look on her face was dreadful, as if she was embarrassed, but by the urgency, it screamed she needed help. He was on the porch in no time, bounding up the small set of steps with a inquisitive expression.

“So, okay, I hate having to ask this--- and before you ask, yes, she’s sick.” Luna was stumbling over her own words and Eddie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, big brown eyes filed with emotion, “What do you need?”

“Can you help me pick her up off the floor?” Luna closed her eyes tightly, “I’m – I’m sorry, Eddie. I just don’t want to deal with paramedics. She’s fine, apparently it only happened a few minutes ago, but I’m not stron---”

“Of course,” Eddie nodded softly, “Lead the way.”

Luna visibly sighed and gave him a small smile, feeling him comfortingly squeeze her shoulder as she looked up at him. She pulled the screen door open and led the way back into the end of the trailer. When they came into the last room, filled with medical equipment and a hospital bed, Eddie realized just how sick she must be.

“Luna Fern, who is that man?” The frail voice came from the floor under a heap of blankets and Eddie swallowed harshly.

“It’s a friend, mama. He’s going to help me get you off the ground so we don’t have to call the EMTS, yeah?” Luna asked as she stepped over the fragile looking body.

“I’m Eddie,” he said as he stepped closer, “What are you doing on the floor, ma’am?”

“I like the view,” she gave him a sarcastic smirk, “My names Lorie. I’m not old enough to be a ma’am yet, son.”

“Sarcasm runs in the family,” Luna gave him a small smile.

They both hooked an arm under her mother’s shoulders and lifted on the count of three, moving quickly to sit her on the edge of the bed. She looked weak, but the similarities where there. Eddie walked back out into the hallway to give them some time to fully get her comfortable back in bed.

“Luna,” Lori said quietly motioning for her daughter to bend forward, “Who is that guy? Is he your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, mama. We’re just friends.” She said, handing her an ashtray and her joint, “Elizabeth and him are dating, apparently. He just gave me a ride home after detention.”

“He’d look cuter with you than Eliza.” Lorie wrinkled her nose up at her as she covered her feet in bed and stepped back, making sure her medication was laid out on the table beside her.

“I was going to hangout with him, but I think you need me here more today, so I’m going to go walk him out, okay?” Luna gave her a small smile, “I’ll be right back.”

“No, you won’t. You go hangout with him. I’m going to smoke and rest, okay? I’m fine, Luna.” Lorie gave her a small smile before she lit her joint and leaned back in the bed.

After a few minutes, Luna came out into the hallway to see Eddie leaning against corner. She didn’t even think twice – having Eddie here felt natural. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest as she whispered a soft, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Eddie said quietly, “I don’t mind one bit.”

She pressed her nose into the collar of his vest and breathed him in for just a second, feeling his arms wrap around her too. It had been a few days since he came to the club, which meant she really had no reason to be touching him. It sucked. But cuddled into him felt right.

“Hey, she going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she stepped back a bit and looked up at him, feeling his arms move from their spot on her back, “She’s in the bed smoking a joint, she’ll be okay.”

“She smokes?” Eddie laughed softly, “Being that sick?”

“How do you think she got the lung cancer in the first place?” Luna sighed softly as she looked up at him, “She told me to go on over and hangout with you, but I don’t feel right leaving her here after that fall, ya know? Can I get a raincheck?”

“I can just bring my stuff over here.” Eddie shrugged, “I’m going to be honest…I was supposed to go by the shell station after detention, but I guess I’m sort of…avoiding Elizabeth.”

Luna nodded quietly as she looked up at him, “Yeah…that’ll be fine, too. We can order a pizza or something and hangout here.”

“Sounds good,” he gave her the brightest smile she had ever seen.

Eddie followed her out to the porch and gave her a squinted eye look as she closed the door behind them.

“Can I ask exactly what’s wrong with her?”

“Stage 4 lung cancer that’s spread into her bones and her brain,” Luna said with a sad smile, “We’re trying chemo, but it’s not working.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “So the doctors said to just let her do as she pleases. If she wants to smoke, let her…its not like it’s going to make the cancer wor-“

“Luna?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” He studied her face for a few moments, watching as she struggled to contain her emotions.

Normally, she could keep it together. She loved her mother, truly, but being left in charge of a household at 18 years old was enough to make any crumble mentally. She crossed her arms over her stomach and nodded as she looked down at the ground, mindlessly scuffing up a bit of dirt to try and take away the deep sadness that came with that question.

“I’m dealing,” she nodded, “It’s hard and…we’ve lost a lot this year because she can’t work and I don’t always make the best money, but…we’re dealing and, ya know, that’s okay for now.”

“You know you can talk to me about things that are bothering you. I get that some things are too personal, but…I know what it’s like to have a sick parent. My dads sickness was his own choice, but…I get it and I’m sorry that you’re going through it. It’s hard, but she loves you. I can see the way she looked at you.”

“I’m all she’s got,” Luna nodded, “Your dad was sick?”

“Addiction,” Eddie nodded, “He was a meth addict and he ended up killing himself and my mom in a car accident one night. That’s why Wayne adopted me.” Eddie nodded, “I was about 9 or so.”

“I’m sorry,” Luna frowned, “That must’ve been rough to adjust to living with your uncle.”

“It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Eddie gave her a small smile, “If I didn’t…who knows what would’ve ended up happening to me, ya know?”

“You’ve got a point,” Luna nodded.

“So…you still up for learning?” Eddie gave her a hopeful grin, “Maybe share a blunt…I just got this great new strain from Rick that will mellow you out in a heartbeat. It’s a hybrid, but-“

“Yeah,” she grinned as she cut him off, “That sounds great, Eddie…but what about Elizabeth?”

“What about her?” Eddie shrugged, “I mean…we just hooked up, nothing official or anything. Besides, even if we were, you and I were still friends first.”

“I don’t want to come in between the two of you. Elizabeth can be…clingy.” Luna sighed, “I don’t want to ruin it for you. I know you were really excited for me to give her your number.”

“Anddddd she took four days to call me and then made me leave after we finally hooked up,” Eddie shrugged, shoving his hands in his jeans as he brought his shoulders up to his cheek, “Not every thing works out the way we want it, ya know?”

“Do you just want to…maybe hangout tonight?” Luna shrugged, “You can still teach me another night, but…today’s been kind of stressful, and I just don’t know if I’ll be able to pay attention.”

“Yeah,” he gave her a small smile, “Sounds like a fun time. Let me just go grab my box and I’ll be back, yeah?”

She gave him a smile and a nod, watching as he walked out to his van and then was gone. The entire time, her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, pounding in her chest as he drove away from her. Once he was out of view, she walked into the trailer and tidied up the living room, and then went to her bedroom to change out of her school clothes and into something that didn’t leave her a sweaty mess. She tied her long brown hair up on the top of her head, reapplied her eyeliner, and spritzed herself with her perfume. When she stepped into her mothers room, she was fast asleep with her oxygen tucked into her nose.

Normally, she hated that her mother slept so much, but for tonight, she was thankful to finally have some alone time with Eddie.

Within thirty minutes, Eddie was back knocking on her front screen door slightly. She motioned for him to come in and watched as he walked over to her couch and sat down, spreading his stash out on the coffee table in front of him.

When she walked past him, Eddie’s nose was filled with the familiar scent that kept him awake at night, knowing he had smelt it somewhere before, thinking he had found the source of the memory within Elizabeth, but knowing that wasn’t the case anymore.

“You know…” Eddie cleared his throat as he looked over at Luna. His mouth was open for a few minutes as he struggled to find the words he wanted to desperately say, but they failed him miserably, “Never mind.”

“Tell me,” Luna shrugged, “C’mon, you said it yourself. We’re friends.”

“It’s just…If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the girl I thought Elizabeth was,” Eddie snorted.

“And who’s that?”

“Er…so…a stripper,” Eddie huffed, “The perfume that you and Elizabeth both apparently wear…it’s similar to a girl I met at a strip club. She wears a pink bunny mask but…I mean, I know they say not to fall in love with strippers. They’re just there for money, but there was something about this girl I can’t just shake.”

“Do you see her often?”

“Not very often,” Eddie shrugged, “It’s only been about a week now, but…I can’t get her out of my mind. Maybe a little gross for you to hear, but she just felt…good, ya know? Anyway, she goes by Liz, which I guess is a stage name? I don’t know. I’ve never seen her face but it just felt like I knew her, I guess.”

Luna smiled to herself behind the hand her head was resting on. He thought about her. Well, he thought about Liz, but it was close enough. She watched as he plopped two buds in his grinder and started twisting the metal utensil back and forth, sighing softly to himself before he sat up straight and turned to look at her.

“I wasn’t calling you a stripper, I swear.” He stuttered a bit, eyes wide as he fumbled, “I just I-I don’t know if women take offense to that or not. You shouldn’t, because I’m sure she’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, too, and I just…I’m going to shut up now.”

“It’s okay,” she laughed softly, placing her hand on his forearm and his heart felt like it skipped two beats when he looked down at where their bodies met.

“Are you going to Steve’s party Friday?”

“I can’t,” Luna frowned, “Unfortunately. I’ve got to work.”

“Well shit,” Eddie huffed as he looked down at where her hand was resting on his forearm and he swore he felt his heart skip a few beats.

There, on the side of her wrist, was the tattoo he vividly remembered tracing on Liz’s wrist. The tiny star and tiny moon. Holy fucking shit. There was no fucking way that Luna was Elizabeth…was there?

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson AU #Stranger Things #Stranger Things AU #Eddie Munson x oc #Leather and lace #original fics #Thefreakymunson

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franki-lew-yo · 1 year

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About the 'Roald Dahl edits'

Can someone please just show me an actual, undoctored picture of the changes being made to which books?

That's all I ask! I keep seeing absurd clearly liberal-mocking fake scans that no book company would ever make being presented as "evidence" of the changes. Don't do that. Show me a list of the changes.

Welp, I'm writing about this because, as I've expressed before, I love Roald Dahl as a writer but I don't like him as a person. That's the thing about some people's work- it just comes with the territory that they are at LEAST 'problematic' given the creators worldview; Dahl, Lovecraft, Tezuka, Uncle Walt, even my German-crabapple daddy Ted Geisel. I'm not gonna @ these dead ppl for DARING to not be up to my modern liberal standards no more than I am gonna paint them as REAL LIBERATORS bcuz I want them to be -! When it comes to removing books from circulation or editing out words, I understand.

Regarding the changes though...I really haven't seen anything that's too wild?? Yet.

As a brief aside, I think it'd be better for everyone if The Witches was just removed from publication. It's Dahl's most offensive book when you combine it with his real world politics. And again I say screw the accusations that this book is 'sexist' when the problem with it is that it's antisemetic and so was Dahl.

But honestly? Changing the line to be "some ladies do wear wigs and there's nothing wrong with that" works with Dahl's writing style. Same with calling Augustus Gloop 'enormous'. Same effect in place, just without the sting of just calling a child fat.

Now, if these lines are left in place while Luke's grandma's explaining in the text how "no, don't pick at people's hair even if they're wearing gloves they aren't all witches" are given the boot, I can understand some outrage. But, again, to me I think this is better proof as to why Witches should just be left alone and maybe not published anymore. The og text did provide context, the problem is that the book itself is racist by asserting that all witches are 'evil', and that the only reason to not bother women with wigs and gloves is they "may not be a witch". That's messed up, even if it weren't alluding to any real life antisemetic-isms. Asideaside-- I'd be very curious to see how the The Twits is changed if it's changed at all. Twits has this very poignant description of how, no matter how unconventional you are, you can never be 'ugly' if you are good and sweet- where no matter how "pretty" you are, if you are an ugly person inside people will see you that way. It's a really good breakdown of that phenomena even though it's still technically bodyshaming. Also, they're monkeys, not people (take that as you will) but The Twits is about an abused family of stolen monkeys and birds tricking the Twits, who are their captors, into killing themselves and then returning to the wild where they belong. --- Anyway...removing the part of BFG where the giants says humans of different country's taste different or Mr. Grasshopper's awful quip about Mexicans in James and the Giant Peach isn't any skin off my nose. Especially if they are going to read to young kids today, kids don't need to hear that kind of language. Philly Pullman can disagree with me all he wants but personally I think these books, not their author's squeaky image or politics, deserve to live on.

That being said-

I would be upset if changes were made that started insisting that characters who were fat AREN'T fat, now. Or that the white cis cast Dahl wrote were now being described as bipoc or genderfluid when they weren't. Let's not pull a JK Rowling here. Yes, it is true that for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Roald both a) wanted Charlie and the Buckets to be a black-British family and b) removed racist descriptions of the Oompa Loompas within his lifetime from real life pygmies to a fantasy-race. That's awfully neat of him for someone so much of turdwhich. Those kinds of changes are best for adaptations and reinventions of the stories. But it'd be indecent of the publishers to suddenly push the idea that the Buckets are black and always have been now, and/or that the Oompa Loompas can't still be racist somewhat just because they aren't depicting a real life ethnic group. To alter the original text of the books well after Dahl's death to be more 'friendly' IS the kind of censorship and historical revisionism to be wary of.

It's there that Pullman's comments of 'read another book' ring true: If you can't take that the book has some problematicisms in it, I tell you there are other children's books to read! By making the text of the books 'progressive by modern audiences' standards, that'd be erasing this very discussion and, more importantly, the concerns of BIPOC/Jewish people everywhere.

That'd be like if Disney rereleased Fantasia and had a redesigned, less offensive Sunflower in the background. That'd be disgusting, not because Sunflower shouldn't be reclaimed or redesigned, but because that's a company wanting to hide from the mistakes of the past in order to sell more stuff to you and make you trust them. I'd love me a black Charlie Bucket, but in a new version of Chocolate Factory, not an attempt to hide liberals from the fact that uncle Dahl was racist.

That's what I think should be continued, both as a way to keep his work alive and also to diss Dahl from beyond the grave: adapt his works!!!

Fantastic Mr. Fox, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, BFG, and Willy Wonka are awesome. Dahl hated changes to his stories being made for film....so change his stories for film! Some things have to change and should change. While the 2020 Netflix The Witches was bad, I could get on board making Luke and the humans in the story people of color. That has the potential to turn the connotations of the original on it's head; instead of witches being a metaphor for 'secret societies' they'd be an illusion to real life organizations that tout themselves as kind and homely and traditional but are actually pure evil. How the witches specifically target children of certain demographics only for the dog to bite back and fight them with their own medicine- also keep the nice witch from the 80s film.

None of these changes would ever fix the fact that the og book is what it is, but they're an example of why adaptation, not revisionism, is so important.

Don't hide from mistakes of the past. That's why I'm as upfront with you all about my inspiration for my works being Dahl and Dr. Seuss. These people are not perfect and they're also not my own essence of creativity- but you can believe I was inspired to write because of them. Dana Terrace absolutely has Harry Potter to thank for The Owl House-it doesn't mean Owl House should pay for Harry Potter's sins. Let Owl House pay for it's own sins, thank you!

When it comes to problematic/ offensive work of the past, we should not be hiding from them. Teach kids and adults to think critically and learn that their white-made nostalgia is biased and bad sometimes. When it comes to problematic/ offensive works by still living authors, please just don't by Hogwarts Legacy.

That's all I got. Feel welcome to @ or message me if there's something my white-Gentile-ness forgot or am leaving out. I want to have an actual conversation about this cuz I think it's important. This post also kept me from falling asleep midday again.

#roald dahl #the witches roald dahl #the witches #james and the giant peach #charlie and the chocolate factory #fantastic mr fox #matilda the musical #matilda roald dahl #Roald Dahl's edits #Roald Dahl's classics #Roald Dahl revisions #revisionist history #historical revisionism

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goldenagenonsense · 9 months

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Action Comics No. 2 [July 1938]

And we're back for the second exciting installment of Ant-Man - (furious whispering from the backstage) - wait, I mean Superman. Sorry, got confused after all the insect comparisons last time. Abet I could have fun with calling him a 'young grasshopper' and being pseudo-accurate; I mean, if the authors themselves compared him to one, why can't I?

No cover sharing this week, since I don't think it's related to the Superman story. Interesting image though, gives me kind of a Jame Bond feel, you know?

Flipping to the first page of the story, I am immediately slapped in the face with the art change. Or maybe it's an issue of scan quality? (double checks) okay, I think it's scan quality. Ah well, it's still readable, and that's what matters.

We return where we left off: Superman psychologically tormenting a man into spilling his secrets. As one does. 👍

Honestly, the fact that Greer has neither passed out nor ruined his pants yet is incredibly impressive, I know I would have done both, especially with my mild fear of heights. Still, like, what the FUCK, I knew JJ Jameson was onto something when he warned us about the dangers of vigilantes.

When they hit the ground at last, both the pavement and Greer break. When Superman suggests they do it all again, Greer gives up the information Supes wants - the man behind the war is Emil Norvell, a munitions magistrate. He’s got an estate in Lexington Park. With that information in hand, Superman leaves Greer behind, hopping to the top of the Washington Monument to get his bearings before taking off to Norvell’s estate.

Meanwhile, a still disheveled Greer calls Norvell to warn him of the danger approaching, calling Superman ‘the most dangerous man alive.’ Norvell mostly dismisses the danger, stating that there’s no need to worry, he’ll just take some precautions to make sure Superman doesn’t remain alive for long.

I imagine after this, Greer got himself absolutely plastered and refused to leave his house for weeks, just in case. No one believes his drunk rambling, since Superman’s still so new and relatively unknown, but one day he’ll have the last laugh. One day…

After five minutes, Superman lets himself in through the window into Norvell’s study. He tells Norvell he’s coming with him; Norvell refuses, and discretely pushes a button hidden behind him on his desk. Superman notices too late to stop him, but still demands it be handed over. Norvell instead tells his guards to let him have it.

Guards used Machine Guns! It had no effect! Superman used Quick Attack! It was super effective!

It takes no time at all for Supes to toss all dozen guards out the window, their own machine guns wrapped around their necks. He then proceeds to threaten Norvell by bending an iron bar in front of him, explaining how that could just as easily be his neck if he doesn’t agree to come with him. Norvell, valuing his life, agrees quickly.

A few minutes later, Superman and Norvell are at the port. Superman points out a large steamer ship - the Baronta - that is due to leave for San Monte the next day. If he doesn’t find Norvell aboard it when it leaves, he swears he’ll track the man down to whatever hole he hides in and tear out his heart with his bare hands. Norvell, valuing his life, agrees.

Holy death threats, Superman! I know you aren’t the same as your modern counterpart, but hearing you threaten the lives of people three times within one page is just. I would be pissing myself. What the FUCK. This just really highlights the difference in culture and overall heroics eighty years ago. A Superman like this today would be a major anti-hero.

We hop to the next day, where an odd variety of passengers are boarding the Baronta: Clark Kent and Lois Lane, the latter having been assigned to accompany him to the war zone and send back dispatches with her distinctive feminine touch; a group of toughs who possibly intend to enlist as paid mercenaries; Lola Cortez, woman of mystery, an exotic beauty who fairly radiates danger and intrigue; and Emil Norvell, who immediately confines himself to his cabin once aboard.

Gotta love how her whole description is literally just 'look at this mysterious woman, she's so ~very mysterious~ hoo hoo hoo.' Truly she's ready to star in some shipboard murder mystery event.

Soon enough, the ship heads out to sea, destined for a strange voyage. Which you would think would be the build-up to a murder mystery or something, like for serious, I swear I’ve seen this exact set-up for like a dozen of them.

That night, Norvell paces his cabin. A knock comes at the door, and when he answers it… Superman is there! He makes another lowkey threat by ‘complementing’ Norvell showing up, then leaves. Not long after, Norvell sics the nameless toughs on him, promising fabulous rewards if Superman dies. The tough promises it’ll happen.

I love how, after directly witnessing Superman tank machine gun bullets, turn machine guns and bar iron into pretzels, and then literally run them across the city in a few minutes, he still goes ‘oh yeah I can totally sic these random dudes on this caped man and make him dead!’ Villain logic! Truly a timeless classic of comic books.

Superman has decided that, instead of returning to his cabin as Clark Kent and lying low, he’ll just stand at the rail admiring the moon. He whirls at the sound of footsteps, but it’s too late - he’s surrounded by toughs. When he braces himself against the rail, his strength causes it to break, sending him flailing into the ocean below.

The thugs report back, demanding their payment. Norvell dismisses them rudely, stating that they’re too trusting, and that they should feel lucky he didn’t turn them over to the police. Again, what the fuck has to be going through this guy’s mind when he pisses off the people who just dealt with the guy who, again, bent iron into pretzels in front of you. Villain logic.

Meanwhile, Superman’s fine! He’s just casually swimming fast enough to catch up to the steamer - and then blows right past it, swimming off into the distance and leaving the ship behind. He even gives the ship a jaunty wave, not that anyone can see it.

Man, really makes you wonder how he explained himself to Lois when she couldn’t find him on the ship the next day. Then again, considering that she’s likely still giving him the cold shoulder, she probably is just relieved to have a day without him hovering around and bothering her.

Anyway. We have a time skip to the next evening, when the ship has just pulled into port. Norvell is, shockingly, ambushed by all the thugs he stiffed, almost like they’re holding a grudge for a rich guy using them to do their dirty work and then refusing to pay them. Weird, that. Fortunately for him, Superman shows up once again, this time to beat the snot out of the thugs who pushed him overboard.

Gotta love that magical disappearing bowler hat. I know it's a coloring error, but the idea of it disappearing back to a different dimension rather than facing Superman is wildly hilarious to me.

The thugs flee into the night, and Norvell asks him why he saved him. Turns out, Superman’s not being benevolent - being beaten up and/or killed by those thugs is a pleasant fate compared to what Supes has in store for him. Norvell doesn’t like the sound of that, but Superman assures nothing will happen to him - so long as he joins the San Monte army.

Norvell later paces his hotel room, desperate to think of a way out of this mess caused by ‘that inhuman creature.’ He eventually gets a brain blast - join the army, then run at the first opportunity! Sadly, this plan is ruined when he enlists and Superman happens to be there as well, wearing a uniform. He declares he just couldn’t bare to be parted with Norvell.

Supes. My dude. My main man. You have got to stop psychologically tormenting these people. Supes. Dude. Why this. I don’t even have the words.

The new recruits get sent to the front. Norvell wonders whether Superman is trying to get them both killed; Superman plays coy and doesn’t give anything away. He then states he doesn’t understand why Norvell makes weapons when it means that thousands will die. Norvell’s reply? Men are cheap, munitions are expensive!

A shell flies overhead and explodes. All the soldiers drop flat to avoid the fragments. Norvell, sweating, states that this is no sane place for a man, and that he’ll die! Superman, in full sass mode, notes how when it’s his own life at stake, his viewpoint changes.

Honestly, I’m coming around to Superman’s idea here. Why don’t we just make all the people making money off of weapons go to the front lines? Senators and other people of power included! I, for one, definitely think that it would go a long way towards maybe cutting back on our stupidly large military budget, which could be put into more valuable things like, uh, pretty much anything besides the military.

Soon enough, the troops are making camp and settling in for the night. The sentries are puzzled by a dark shadow, but ultimately dismiss it as a bird. Turns out, it was Superman, out of his uniform disguise, speeding off towards the enemy camp!

The enemy officers are discussing how impenetrable their lines are, just for Superman to peek his head in with a camera in hand, asking them to smile for the shot. He then disappears again, leaving the officers to rally the guards to fruitlessly search for him.

Not too much later, Clark Kent is in the local post office, sending a package off to… the Evening News in Cleveland, Ohio? Not the Daily Star? I suppose if he didn’t want Superman tied to Clark Kent, then he’d be careful to not have the image he took as Superman tied to the place where Clark works… but then how does he explain where he got the pic? Did he just send it anonymously? Then again, this is well before social media made information sharing easy and instantaneous, so like, it’s not like the enemies would be able to tell anyone that it was a weirdo in spandex and not a generally shy, wimpy reporter who somehow snuck his way in, got the shot, and got out.

Man, I wonder how Lois would feel if she saw that snapshot and thought Clark got it. We know she thinks he’s an absolute wet rag of a man and can’t imagine him taking a risk a day in his life, but that shot? That’s the kind of shot she would get. Or at least, later incarnations of her, wherein she’s willing to throw herself off of buildings in order to get her scoop.

Speaking of Lois! We shift our scene over to the hotel where both Lois and Lola are staying. Lois is trying to chat with Lola, but Lola is being carefully uninformative. And can I say here that I love how their color schemes are completely inverted to one another? I mean, I know old comic books had limited color palettes to print in, but still, there’s definitely enough color that the choice made here was deliberate.

Army officers enter the hotel, the owner quickly meeting them. He asks what’s wrong; they state ‘official business.’ At that moment, Lola, suddenly panicky, slips into an elevator, and hides a document in Lois’ room. Which, like, either means that door security isn’t a thing in San Monte, or Lola slipped the door key from Lois (and then returned it??), or she could have lockpicked her way in, I guess.

I know, trying to logic out a comic book bit, I’m a dumbass. You all should have known this already, I’m willing reading and liveblogging golden age comics.

The officers explain that an important document has been stolen, and that they need to search the rooms. The owner gives them permission, and soon enough, all the rooms are being methodically gone through. Lola makes sure to come off as annoyed and unaffected while talking to the officer in her room.

As to be expected, the document is found in Lois’ room. The officers place her under military arrest, despite her protests of knowing nothing about this. In what seems like no time at all, she’s put before a judge and found guilty, with the punishment for espionage being an execution at dawn.

Clark overhears the news while in disguise at the military camp, nearly at the same time Lois is being brought out for the execution. Lois, even facing death, is protesting the whole thing and proclaiming her innocence.

Superman rushes across the miles, almost faster than the eye can see. The officer in charge raises his hand to order the troops to shoot-

And once again, in the nick of time, Superman saves Lois Lane from the machinations of others. When the guards stop shooting, Superman lifts Lois into a bridal carry and leaps over the wall. The troops, baffled, tell him to stop, and that this is impossible. Superman snarks his thanks for letting him know.

Lois, meanwhile, is in shock - she’s once again been saved by Superman! Superman jokes with her about his still playing the role of gallant rescuer. She asks him what manner of being he is, and he tells her to stop asking.

Like, dude, my man. This is Lois Lane. I know that this is very, very early Lois, and that this is the 30s, but like. You have to realize that you just gave this woman a rawhide bone to chew on named ‘Superman’s mysteries,’ and by hell or high waters, she WILL get to the bottom of this.

Anyway, Superman briefly stops in order to handle a torturer mid-inquisition. How he handles it? By bodily picking up the man, hoisting him overhead, and throwing him like a javelin into the distance. The man's protests are shut down with Superman telling him to go to hell, calling him a devil; as he’s tossed, all he can do is wail piteously as he disappears into the distance.

That man is dead, you fucking know it. And like, it’s not like I personally care, but then again, I’m pretty sure this is like the dozenth death threat so far, and we’re only on issue two! Superman, what the FUCK, my dude?

Superman unties the captives’ bonds, taking their profuse thanks with grace. He wishes them luck, then gets back to getting Lois to safety - which, like, she had to have witnessed all that, right? What in the world did she think in seeing all that? What would her article even look like if she published? How is she STILL wearing her heels despite the past, like, handful of hours or whatever?

All mysteries we may or may not have answers to one day soonish.

Superman eventually sets Lois down near the Baronta, advising her to return to America. She asks when she’ll see him again; he replies that he doesn’t know - perhaps tomorrow, perhaps never.

Based on what I know of comic books, Lois Lane, and Superman comics in general, I’m leaning a bit more towards ‘probably every issue from here on out.’ But, you know, that’s just my guess.

With all that side plot out of the way, we return to our main story, the tormenting of Norvell. Only, as it turns out, exciting developments have occurred while he was away! And by exciting, I mean the anti-air guns are going, due to an enemy aviator harassing the camp. Which, what, no backup? I don’t know much about aviation between WW1 and WW2, but I feel like flying solo is not the safest decision, especially with one hand holding a fucking shotgun while the other is steering. But what do I know? Comic book logic.

Also, as an aside, I am laughing because I can’t believe the issue cover is somewhat relevant after all - there is, in fact, a plane involved in these shenanigans! Truly inspiring.

Anyway, Superman leaps to the attack! For the first time in all history, a man battles an airplane single-handed!

The plane crashes into him and, unsurprisingly, loses. The airplane falls to its doom. Meanwhile, Norvell has seen the crash and is convinced that this is what finally killed his nemesis. Which, once again, have to admire the sheer confidence this man has in the worlds’ ability to kill this inhuman fucker. Truly the model on which all future villainous delusions are based off of.

Sadly (for Norvell), Superman comes in for a landing right after, spooking the hell out of Norvell. Much like Greer before him, he’s cracked - he wants to go back to the US, he’s grown to hate war! Superman agrees - so long as Norvell stops making weapons.

Norvell presumably agrees, since he’s soon out of uniform and back on the Baronta for the return trip. He vows to himself that the most dangerous thing he’ll make from now on will be a firecracker.

Superman is pleased with his progress; only one more thing to do, and his mission in San Monte will be finished! He then proceeds to kidnap both the commander from the military he was with, and the head of the opposing army. They’re confused and scared, and demand to know what he wants from them. He tells them he’s ending the war by having them fight each other. When they try to protest, he tells them to fight - or else he’ll take care of both of them.

I think that’s another death threat, so the total count is like… an even dozen at this point. Christ, OG Superman was a feral bastard. Probably something to do with being raised in an orphanage instead of with kindly old farmers in Kansas. Man, what an Elseworlds concept to explore…

The commanders are baffled - why should they fight> They aren’t angry with each other? When Superman asks why the armies are battling, neither of them seems to have an answer, which like. I know it’s supposed to be a commentary on all war being pointless and stupid, but them not even having a flimsy excuse is another level of wild. Superman decides to give them an answer - they’ve only been fighting to promote weapons sales. So why not just shake hands and make up?

They do so (I would argue under some duress), and the war, presumably, comes to a halt. Incredible. Wonder how long that will last.

Clark Kent soon after returns to the office and reports to his editor. The editor informs him that, while he’s been gone, there’s been no Superman sightings. Maybe he’s retired? Clark disagrees, saying that he has a hunch Superman will make an appearance again - soon!

With that, the second issue ends (or at least, the Superman part of it. Anthology comics are a bit wild, but they were the norm back then, so.) What a ride. Gotta love that whole ‘fuck war and everything to do with it’ mentality that went into this story. Considering this is before WW2, I have to wonder now how things will change when that particular conflict kicks off in earnest.

As a fun little ending bit, we have an advertisement to end off the page!

Wow, it’s like steroid ads before there were plentiful steroids! Incredible. And sadly, it’s working, less because I want the physique, but more because I want to know whether there’s actually any kind of exercise routine / recommendations, or if it’s just a tease for some kind of storyline.

Anyway, that’s a wrap for that. Next time, the ongoing adventures of Superman. How many death threats will there be? Even I don’t know.

#dc comics #superman #action comics

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