#IN MY DEFENCE I CANNOT COME UP WITH ANYTHING ELSE

[torhues]

akaashi keiji.

tw . death and grieving

they say, we value something the most when it's gone.

akaashi doesn't know why those words resonate with him.

he doesn't have a lot of offer, not at all. akaashi keiji, in fact, doesn't have anything to give or lose, his hands are empty. he has a mediocre job and a mediocre life, a mediocre apartment with some mediocre flowers in the mediocre vase a friend gave him as a congratulatory gift on graduation day. he has same mediocre thoughts and books, tropes and genres, no new thought in a while; akaashi, actually, has more to accept than to lose.

to think, he has always been on the receiving end of life.

good grades made their way to him almost too easily, his looks served as a way for confessions to find their route to him as well. being an only child gave him the privilege to have everything to himself rather than sharing it with someone. akaashi isn't half mean, or selfish, or careless, or anything that people like him could be. he still keeps the fountain pen bokuto gave him on the last day of highschool even though it's nib had broken. there's a scarf in his cupboard, one made by his late aunt who died of lymphoma, it's torn, yarns peeping out of the knits. it's kept intact in a fancy red box.

akaashi has always received a lot, so much that he hasn't dealt with loss, to such an extent that he has never been on the other end. but his hands feel empty. in the silence suffocating him, sitting on a chair with his head hung low, the floor looks so pretty. there's a faint reflection of him on the tiles, then his eyes land on his hands.

his hands feel empty.

maybe it's the timing that has been making him feel this way. perhaps, it's the location, the empty hospital room and the empty streets, the empty hallway, the empty hours, the lack of something and abundance of everything— it's making him go insane. it's fine, he tells himself, a hospital can make one feel that way.

akaashi looks over at the empty bed, the white sheets and the white walls all around. his gaze shifts to the now shut down heart monitor, the pillow you had rested your head upon until this afternoon, the lilies in the bouquet he got your this morning, they've wilted. he should be packing up your stuff. your clothes, the blanket you've always adored and the books you made him read all these days while you were lying on the now empty hospital bed.

occasionally, he tries to convince himself that this is a dream. that you're here, somewhere, perhaps at work or at the nursery, maybe out for shopping with a friend or at your parent's house because you've been missing them lately. akaashi imagines himself waiting for you at the station or the bus stand or the airport, smiling like a fool because he hasn't seen you in days and finally he can have you close to him, his lips on yours, your hand in his,

but now, his hands feel emptier.

akaashi, once again, looks over at the empty bed. the image of you lying on it slips in his mind— weak and exhausted, too miserable to even lift your hand. the you that has been greeting him with a crooked smile for the last three weeks. the part of you that cries when no one is around a pretends to be fine when he accidently walks in on you. you who had been living off on tubes and blood transfusions, who smells like medicines and antiseptics, who's eyes, even while fighting to their life, didn't run out of love.

akaashi has always been on the receiving end. his chest feels heavy, his vision is blurry, he feels lonely; akaashi doesn't know what he had lost.

he can't put it in words.

they say, we value something the most when it's gone. akaashi doesn't understand why those words keep popping up in his mind as a reminder. he's not like that, he knows how much to mean to him. he adored you— still does— has never taken you, or your love, for granted.

what about the people who know the worth?

he sniffs, because he knew. akaashi knows he loves you more than anything else in this entire world and, tried his best to hold onto you; little by little, thread by thread, holding by the end of the rope even if it means standing at the edge of the knife.

losing something, isn't it so much worse for them?

akaashi believes there's penance in yearning, there's pain in giving too much of your heart. you've always been on the giving end, and it scared him because, what if he's not enough? what if he isn't even giving you even a quarter of what he's receiving, because in the end, nothing in the world could compensate for short fall.

did i not love you enough?

he thinks of the times where instead of all this, he had you. life was exquisitely simple, and you were desperately happy. where instead of heavy silence, the room was filled with your laughter, where his hands weren't empty for yours always found their way to his'. he thinks of the days when he'd spend his evenings with you, strolling in the park or while taking a walk by the beach. right now, he feels alone, as if it's just him and pieces of shared moments with you, lingering in the air.

akaashi hasn't never dealt with loss, but losing you made him lose everything he ever had.

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #akaashi keiji #haikyuu #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu angst #akaashi angst #haikyuu fic #akaashi fic #haikyuu headcanons #akaashi headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #akaashi drabbles #hq angst #IM SORRY FOR ANOTHER ANGST #IN MY DEFENCE I CANNOT COME UP WITH ANYTHING ELSE #also this sounds monotonous me thinks

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.8

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, fingering, rose toy, multiple orgasms, confrontation, ynhee's mum (she's a warning all in herself), anything else lmk! ch. 8 synopsis: the weekend of nationals is finally here and there's a buzz in the air but of course, nothing can run as smoothly as you plan. sunghoon lets you in on minhee and his private conversation, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place. wc: 13.6k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! i cannot believe melting point ends NEXT WEEK like wdym :( this chapter really explains everything you need to know about the story and everything w the mum so this is an important one <3 thank you all so much for the love. as always i really value your feedback/comments/likes/reblogs. nothing makes me happier than reading your theories and comments, thank you so much! pls enjoy.

Heaving your case, you start to wonder if you packed too much for the weekend. It’s not like you meant to cram in 6 different outfits, 3 pairs of shoes, and every piece of makeup you own - you just wanted to be extra prepared; that and you’re indecisive.

It’s finally Nationals weekend which means everything the boys have been working so hard for is here, only 2 days away. Technically, they should have been in Seoul already but you had a prelim exam today so they both waited for you to be finished before heading out.

The decision wasn’t your favourite, considering they’re missing parts of the press conferences and extra training but they assured you it was the easiest scapegoat out of travelling with the coaches and answering the usual ‘ideal type’ and ‘boyfriend’ questions that get thrown at them.

Considering they were top athletes, you would think the reporters would have more intelligent questions. Sunghoon had told you the last press event he did, the reporters just decided to try and ask him questions he knew would make him look arrogant and cocky with both women and on the ice.

It irks you how everyone has this preconceived perception about the man you love who would bend over backwards to make people happy. He says it doesn’t bother him and therefore it shouldn’t burden you but that's your man and he’s being slandered over news websites, it’s only right you get a little annoyed.

You can hear Sunghoon now as you think about it, telling you “at least I can back up my massive ego with a first place”, and he’s right, but it still doesn’t make you any more okay with it.

Presently, you’re walking down your campus path to the main road, on the way to meet both Minhee and Sunghoon. Somehow, you’ve managed to convince them to drive to the competition together. It took Minhee more convincing than Sunghoon, his biggest objection being you and your boyfriend all over one another.

There’s a mastermind plan to your reasoning; you want them to get along and forcing them in a close proximity for more than 3 hours seems like the best way to do it. Well, you’ve convinced yourself it’s the best way. Plus, you can try and pry out of them what they were talking about the other day in the coach’s office.

Looking ahead, you see Sunghoon and Minhee talking, or rather bickering about something. 

This might be harder than you thought.

“You are NOT driving my baby, she doesn’t need your hands all over her,” you hear Sunghoon say, arms crossed in defence.

“Come on, man! It’s a 3-hour drive and you look tired. I’ll take the wheel and you go for a sleep in the back,” Minhee retorts, pleased with himself for his reasoning; yet, Sunghoon doesn’t budge, adamant that your brother will never get the driver’s seat. 

It’s oddly refreshing to see them argue about something so trivial and not try to tear each other’s character down. They’re nipping at one another like friends do. You and Rina have had your fair share of minisode arguments about throwaway things like this so seeing them do the same makes you smile.

However, you will stop it, just in case Sunghoon gets too riled up - you know how he can get when it comes to his car. You spilled the tiniest bit of your blueberry juice on the seat and he nearly crashed into the traffic light. He’s very dramatic and overly protective.

“Mini, if you drive, I’ll just make out with Hoon in the back the whole drive there,” you laugh.

Your boys turn around at the sudden sound of your voice, both wearing different expressions. Sunghoon’s face upturns into brightness as he sees you, his arms come undone, and his body visibly relaxes. He looks as handsome as ever with his hair styled and smart-casual outfit; grey-collared sweater with black pressed trousers.

Minhee on the other hand is disgusted at the thought of you climbing all over your boyfriend for hours on end. He’s wearing some jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket, it’s his typical choice but he suits it.

Taking your luggage, Sunghoon whispers a ‘hey’ into your lips as he kisses you tenderly. The display of affection only makes Minhee fake gag, “Suddenly, I don’t want to drive anymore,” your brother scoffs, yielding his earlier argument in trade for some peace from the love parade.

You let out a light laugh, moving from Sunghoon to hug Minhee, “You’ve made the right choice,” the airiness in your voice matches the contentment you feel as he hugs you, ruffling your hair in the process. 

While Sunghoon puts your case in the boot, grunting about how heavy it is, you take the opportunity to warn Minhee, “Please be nice to him, okay? I want you both to get along.” It’s a simple request but the seriousness in your eyes conveys everything Minhee has to know.

"I'll tolerate him," he pinches your cheek and offers you an understanding smile when he notices your harsh expression, "Okay, I promise I'll be on my best behaviour." He enters the car with hands raised in faux defence.

You knew he'd behave even before you warned him, but you had to do it since the temptation to fall back into habit might be too strong for both of them. That is why Minhee isn't the only one whom you are warning.

As you walk up to Sunghoon, he closes the trunk with a soft thud, "Can you try getting along with Mini today? It'd mean a lot to me if you guys could at least give friendship a shot," you gently suggest.

"I'll do my best to make us leave here best buddies," Sunghoon replies with fake enthusiasm, "But baby, I gotta tell you, the drive here wasn't great. Did you know he sticks his foot up on the seat? Made things pretty uncomfortable for my girl," he says, giving the car's rear a pat, still bothered by Minhee's lack of respect for the second most important girl in his life.

Your brother wasn’t always the best at reading a situation and considering it’s the first time he was in Sunghoon’s car, he should have been a little more gracious. But he’s Minhee, that’s just how he is.

“Did you tell him not to do it?” you ask, looking through the back window to see the back of your brother’s head.

“Obviously, he just ignored me,” Sunghoon feigns a pain in his heart, “It was tragic.”

His dramatic act earns him an eye roll and no reaction, “I will tell him if he does it.”

With the promises sealed up with one more kiss, you both clamber into your respective seats, ready for the long journey ahead.

The roads are busier than normal, a traffic jam on the motorway is going to add an extra 25 minutes to your time. You don’t mind it, given you're not the one driving, but Sunghoon is getting impatient, the fingers on his left hand tapping on the wheel while his right hand subconsciously grips your thigh, using you like his personal stress ball.

Minhee couldn’t be more relaxed, his body has somehow managed to lounge himself over the back seat, phone in his hand as he plays house flipper. 

“We should put on the radio or something, might make this go in faster,” you suggest, already reaching for the screen. None of them complain, too busy in their own worlds to notice. This car drive was supposed to bond them and so far the only conversation they have had was to text the coaches and let them know they would be late; hardly riveting.

The speakers quietly play the sound of Sza’s Kill Bill which has both of them bobbing their heads. Even just the addition of music has made the car feel less awkward. 

You don’t want to force them to be friends but you also want to say you tried to meld them together in some capacity. These two men are the most precious people in your life and if they don’t get along, your plan to hang out together will be foiled. Even worse, your secret scheme to have Sunghoon over for Christmas dinner would also be ruined. Christmas is already tense enough never mind adding in two people who can’t even speak to one another.

The next song that plays makes Minhee sit up sharply and you whip your head around to look at him.

Maybe it's the way she walked

Singing the song at each other, you and your brother showcase your sibling brain cells by belting out your joined karaoke song. It was unintentional and you don’t remember specifically how it happened, but one day One Direction’s Best Song Ever became the song you would sing together at every function, both of you staying up late to learn the dance and all the dialogue lines. Minhee swore blindly that he would make a better Liam/Leroy than you but you proved him wrong pretty quickly. 

The abrupt change in atmosphere jolts Sunghoon to look at you both wildly while you both sing loudly. He does note how Minhee can actually sing and you, well, you’ve got spirit. The smile on his face gradually gets bigger, the happiness between the siblings infecting him. 

And we danced all night to the best song ever

We knew every line, now I can't remember

He hasn’t seen you get this excited in a while, the pressure of keeping too many secrets from too many people had a weighted effect on you, yet, now that’s gone, you look as light as a feather, enjoying your life free of guilt and shame, a life where you have Minhee by your side and him on the other.

If it’s the last thing he does, he will make sure to become friends with Minhee by the end of the weekend. 

The makeshift choreo you and Minhee created for the verses comes back easily, both your arms flapping around the place, hairography and all the rest of it. The laughter filtering through Minhee’s singing makes you feel like you’re finally home.

Minhee extends a metaphorical microphone to Sunghoon, attempting to draw him into your shared joy. It's not a conscious effort, but rather a natural inclination to include him in this moment, making him feel like a part of the Kang family, even if just for a song. There was also a tiny bit of him hoping Sunghoon had the worst voice out of the three of you, giving him something to slag him about.

“Nope, sorry, I don’t sing,” Sunghoon protests, moving his focus to the ever-so-slowly moving traffic.

“Come on, Hoonie, you know the words! You already told me you were a Louis girl,” you chuckle, also holding out your pretend microphone to join Minhee.

With the Kang siblings eagerly awaiting his participation, Sunghoon relents, quietly joining in the singing. His voice isn’t loud, he’s cautiously singing the song with you and Minhee, letting you both take the lead on it. He appreciates the effort Minhee made to involve him but this is also clearly you and Minhee’s joint thing, he doesn’t want to intervene too much.

However, that’s not sitting with any of you, “Sunghoon put some chutzpah into it!” Minhee encourages.

Minhee is trying his best, the once subconscious act is now intended, he wants you to know he’s trying to get along with your boyfriend despite their past. You deserve that much.

There’s a glimmer of amusement in Sunghoon’s eyes as he gets sucked into the infectious energy of the moment and becomes more vocal. What neither you nor Minhee expects is for Sunghoon’s voice to be as good as it was. You had heard him sing maybe once in the shower but you weren’t paying attention, not like now. Now he has your full attention, leaving him and your brother to harmonise together.

As Niall's part comes on, Minhee playfully nudges your arm, signalling your turn to sing, a cue you eagerly follow. At that moment, the confines of the car seem to expand, enveloping you all in a bubble of pure bliss and laughter. It's something you want to etch into your memory, a snapshot of unfiltered happiness that you'll treasure forever.

The final lines of the song resonate through the air, and a sense of contentment settles over you all, transforming the cold winter morning outside into something warm and inviting, much like a spring day.

Minhee reaches over and pats Sunghoon on the shoulder, offering him a genuine compliment. "You've got a set of pipes on you, mate," he remarks, devoid of any tension, prompting a surprised look from you.

“Thanks, you’re not that bad of a singer either,” your boyfriend relays.

“Nah, it’s just singing next to her I sound like Adele or something,” Minhee pokes fun at you like always, clearly amusing Sunghoon because he just laughs and nods along. Honestly, if making some lighthearted jokes about your singing is the thing that makes them friends, you’ll allow it.

The rest of the car journey is now filled with chatter, mostly you and Minhee reminiscing about your upbringing, telling Sunghoon all the stories that embarrass one another while he drives you closer to the city. 

Sunghoon enjoys the way you two interact, it shows him why you were so determined not to hurt Minhee for all those months, putting aside your own happiness for him. Whenever competitions happened, he got to see you and Minhee’s relationship from the sidelines and that made him a little envious.

Ice skating has always been so lonely for him with no time to make friends with fellow skaters because his mum would be pulling him away to go home or keep him on the ice while everyone else went to get a sweet treat after training. His mum made him so lonely that she was the only one he could rely on.

That was until now. Jay and Jake were always there for him but it’s harder for them to understand since they aren’t in the sport directly, whereas you and Minhee both have grown up in the same gruelling surroundings as him. 

Sunghoon’s jealousy grew the more he saw Minhee, the loving sister, the nice coach, even a little less toxic of a mother, granted his opinions of her have wildly changed now that he knows everything. But even with that, Minhee seemed to have it all - he had everything Sunghoon wanted.

He would trade in every trophy for a little stability, for his dad to still be alive, to have someone devoted to him no matter what. That’s why when he saw you all those years ago, he knew you had to be in his life. 

The hatred he had towards your brother stemmed from his mother’s toxic whispers planting little nuggets of rumours and lies to make him hate Minhee, yet, as he looks at both of you now, he knows it wasn’t hatred, it was envy. And when Minhee said he couldn’t ask you out when he was a teenager, it fuelled anger in him for hogging you.

Your love and kindness shouldn’t be confined to your brother.

But like you said the other day, Minhee was scared to lose you and Sunghoon understood that feeling all too well now.

Enclosing your hand in his, Sunghoon threads his fingers with yours, longing for contact after his brain even thought about you not being with him, even for a second. 

You twist your neck to look at Sunghoon, fondly smiling at him. Watching his eyes shake, you know he’s thinking about something that requires your touch; he always did this, no matter the issue big or small, like having you there was enough for him to brush through the knots in his brain and sort it out. 

It felt so amazing to be so needed and loved like this.

Minhee interrupts the silent show of love and points out the windshield, “Looks like they know we’re coming,” he sighs as reporters hover outside the hotel entrance, cameras hanging at their sides while they chat about nothing. 

Sunghoon and Minhee are used to this but today is the day they’ll make a spectacle over them. For the first time in history, the two rivals are arriving together and not just that, they’re both a day late. It’s the perfect opportunity for them to sniff around and fabricate some sort of story, you’re just scared of what.

Pulling up to the front of the hotel, the reports poise their camera to get the money shot, they don’t know they’re in for a goldmine,

“Remember, head down, no comments, and just get in there,” Sunghoon instructs, earning a scoff from your brother.

“Nah, you can do that, I’m the pleasant prince, I pander to my audience,” Minhee smiles proudly.

This is where they differ in so many ways, how their brands set them apart. You have to say, you’re surprised Minhee is keeping the Princess Diana brand your mum created considering he hates it so much. Then again, it has created more opportunities for him regarding public events and ads.

Your mum was a witch but she knew what she was doing.

It does pose the big question: where is Mum? Is she already here? There has been zero communication between both of you since the phone audio incident, it was sickening to look at her for too long, not that she was home a lot of the time anyway. 

However, right now isn’t about her.

“I think Sunghoon might be right, Mini. They’ll hound you about why you and Hoonie are together,” you put forward, hoping he sees your point. But Minhee is Minhee, he loves being in the spotlight.

“It’s all good, Bubs. I got this,” Minhee pats your head, trying to bounce some reassurance into your brain.

Sunghoon is quick to jump in, “No. Minhee, you keep Y/N safe. There’s no way they won’t push and shove for a picture and if one of them touches her I swear to god, Minhee, it’ll be your head on the hotel pole,” his voice is strong and shoulders are wide and sturdy as he speaks.

You suppress the urge to bite your lip as Sunghoon talks, trying not to give away how much his protectiveness turns you on, although, as much as you’re trying to focus your face on staying neutral, your pussy is meowing out for him, the pants you're wearing sticking to you a little.

“Don’t tell me how to protect my sister, okay, I’ve been with her my whole life, you’ve only got a couple of months under your belt,” Minhee retorts, tone annoyed at the accusation that he would do anything other than put your safety first.

If there was one thing that would make them argue, it’s over you. 

“Guys, let's just focus on getting into the lobby, okay? No pandering, and no punching,” you point to them for their retrospective warnings. You seem to be intimidating enough because they fall back from their tense gazes and start to unbuckle their seatbelts.

When you step out, the cameras click rapidly, a few flashes getting in your eyes which Minhee’s hand reaches over to protect you from, one hand wrapped around your shoulder and the other covering your eyes. The shutters are more intense once they see Sunghoon coming around from the other side of the car.

A few gasps and ‘whoas’ can be heard as your boyfriend catches up to you both. As soon as that happens, all hell breaks loose.

Sunghoon! Are you finally changing your ways?

Minhee, did you steer Sunghoon away from his reckless life?

I’d watch out, Minhee, Sunghoon might be after your little sister next.

The last one creates tension between the boys on either side of you, as soon as you’re mentioned they both want to physically leap over and slap the journalist silly. You don’t like the inclination either, the idea that Sunghoon would just use you for his own gratification. 

Did the reporter say it outright like that? No, but all three of you knew that’s what he meant.

Minhee gracefully bows and smiles as he leads you through the reporters, thanking the ones who respected your need for space.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, remains cold, his look as frosty as usual, displaying little tolerance for the paparazzi's intrusive behaviour. Despite his apparent displeasure, he followed his own advice: keep a low profile and push ahead.

Once the chaos subsides, Minhee gently withdraws from your side, placing a comforting hand between your shoulder blades as he guides you further into the foyer. The interior wasn’t anything fancy; adorned with beige walls, plush couches occupied by guests, and a reception desk manned by two staff.

“Are you alright?” Minhee’s concern was palpable as he peered into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort or vision loss. The flashes were extra bright today.

You shake your head, offering reassurance, “I’m fine, it wasn’t too bad, certainly could have been worse.”

The hotel staff promptly retrieves your luggage from the car, each of your party expressing gratitude. Minhee also hands them a tip, slipping in a signature wink as he did so. 

Sunghoon huffs beside you, stroking the back of your head, “Fucking ridiculous. They’re acting like they haven’t seen us before,” he states, the patting of your head getting rougher the more he thinks about it, “Heard one of them call us Blades of Glory.”

Minhee lets out a loud laugh, clapping his hands in amusement. The other boy didn’t find anything funny about the situation.

The receptionist checks you all in, a room for you and Minhee, and a room for Sunghoon. He had a double room to himself since his mum wasn’t coming.

One thing Sunghoon refuses to speak about is his relationship with his mum, as far as you’re concerned, they haven’t spoken since the argument a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes when you look at your boyfriend when he is training, you wish he had her there. He assures you it’s for the best but you do mourn it a little, hoping they could patch up their relationship and start anew with him as her son, and her as his mother; no manager roles and athlete, just family love.

Sunghoon isn’t so sympathetic to the situation. Sure, he misses having her around but that’s just because it’s a habit, plus, she was his manager and having to navigate everything on his own was becoming overwhelming, but he’ll manage.

Sadly, he doesn’t even miss her as a mother figure.

Luckily, you’re all on the same floor just 4 doors apart. Once you reach your respective rooms, you kiss Sunghoon, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. His hands run up your back, accidentally picking up your jacket and t-shirt in the process, the feeling of his fingertips leaving a warm trail in their absence.

Sunghoon smiles into the kiss, dipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you. He could do this all day, and some days he has, but this time you have your brother impatiently waiting for you both to untangle yourselves.

“Enough, that’s disgusting,” he retches, fake poking a finger down his throat, “Are you guys always like this or is it your attempt at torturing me?” 

Pecking Sunghoon’s lips one more time, you plant your feet back on the ground and face Minhee, “You’re so dramatic. I can kiss my boyfriend whenever I want to,” you sarkily reply.

“Not in front of me you can’t,” he mumbles, face holding an expression of disdain for you and your boyfriend's PDA. He doesn’t protest further, instead unlocking your room and waiting for you to get inside.

Hugging you from the back, Sunghoon leans down, “Come to my room tonight? And the night after, and the night after,” between each request, he kisses your neck, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

The butterflies in your tummy never settle when he’s around and the love in your heart only gets stronger, “I’ll pop in tonight but I promised Minhee I would spend the night before Nationals with him, it’s kind of a thing we have.”

Before every big competition, you and your brother pick a TV show, grab a few face masks and play smash or pass with the cast. You came up with it randomly one night and it stuck ever since, helping him to relax and you to eye up whatever Song Kang drama you manage to persuade him to watch with you. 

Nodding, Sunghoon smiles, spinning you to face him, “Sure, makes sense you guys would have a ritual or whatever,” there’s a tiny hint of sadness in his voice which throws you a little.

“I can ask Minhee to swap it to tonight?” you propose but Sunghoon shakes his head quickly.

“No, no. Do your sibling stuff-”

“You’re welcome to come,” Minhee’s voice interjects behind you. It’s strange how quickly Minhee is accepting Sunghoon into your routines and quirks; first it was the song in the car and now this, “You don’t have to but it would suck for you to be on your own the night before a competition.”

You want to ask what happened to your brother and why a clone has taken over his body, but this is exactly what you wanted, so why fight it?

“I don’t know, seems like your thing, I don’t want to just jump into it,” Sunghoon scratches the back of his hand, a habit he has when he’s nervous. In this instance, it’s cute.

“If I’m inviting you, it’s not you ‘jumping in’ is it? Plus, you get to see your precious girl drool over other men right in front of you,” you nudge your brother's stomach with your elbow before explaining to Sunghoon your plans and that you absolutely do NOT fawn over other men.

Everyone knows it’s a lie.

“Then yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Minhee,” Sunghoon is genuinely appreciative of the offer. He’s never had anyone to do things like this with, usually opting to just rest up and force himself to sleep early.

Minhee nods, “Great, just don’t be all kissy and touchy, it’s gross.”

A ping hits Minhee’s phone and as he reads the message, his once relaxed face turns tense, “It’s mum. Wants to take us out for dinner after the press conference,” he doesn’t bother replying, locking his mobile and stuffing it back in his jean pocket.

You don’t want to go to dinner with her, or even see her. Truthfully, you hoped she just wouldn’t turn up, “Do we have to go?” 

The pout on your face is exaggerated, your eyes pleading with Minhee to say fuck it and not go, however, he doesn’t give in to you, “I suppose.”

Looking at Sunghoon, they do that stare again, the same one when they came out from their secret conversation at Belmore. They nod to one another, making you even more confused.

Before you can pipe up and ask, Sunghoon gives you one more kiss, “I’ll see you later, baby,” and with that, he retreats to his hotel room. Your boyfriend was probably your best chance at getting information, Minhee is too strong and wouldn’t slip up as easily, so you leave it to rest, hoping that it’s nothing too serious.

One thing is for certain, you know it’s about your mum.

_____

“Can we steal the soap?” Minhee pops his head around the bathroom door, eyes gleaming with mischief.

You and Minhee are resting up after the press conference. All in all, the reporters asked straightforward enough questions, intrigued by Minhee's secret routine and the promised 'surprise' he hinted at. Of course, you've witnessed the routine firsthand and are eagerly anticipating everyone else to experience it with the same amount of awe as you did.

To your surprise, there were just two questions concerning Sunghoon: one asked whether Minhee and Sunghoon were now friends, and the other asked if Minhee was afraid of his rival. Minhee's reaction to both was a solid 'no', however you think the first answer might change.

You sit up on your bed, rolling your eyes in dismissal of your brother’s question, “No, Mini, we can’t steal the soap.” The one thing about Minhee was that he loved a freebee, and you too honestly but you draw the line on bath soaps that you know no one will use and just collect dust in your toilet back home.

“But if I put it in my case and hide these ones, the staff will need to give us replacements,” he says, showing you the tiny bottle of liquid soap as a way to entice you to agree with him.

"Let me guess, then you'll swipe those too?" you retort, crossing your arms.

Minhee nods eagerly. "Of course!" he says it with such conviction, as if you're missing out on a golden opportunity for more soap.

As you get up, you snatch the bottle from his hand and head to return it to its rightful spot. "I'll just buy you some soap, alright? Let's leave these here. If there's any left, we'll take it home." Sometimes, you feel like you take over the role of your mother when you have these talks with Minhee.

"Fine," he grumbles, flopping onto the mattress. "I'll just ask Sunghoon to swipe me some then."

You whip around at the mention of your boyfriend's name, watching as Minhee starts tapping away on his phone. It's like entering the twilight zone.

"You guys text now?" you ask incredulously, eyebrows raised

“Only for important things,” he mumbles, too busy planning a scheme to get Sunghoon on board with his ideas. 

You try to imagine in what world hotel soap is important.

If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that your brother and boyfriend were actually getting along, and not just that, that most of the initiation was from Minhee, you would have cackled in your face. There was no chance in hell of that happening, yet, there is it. All those months of worrying about both of them, the arguments, the fighting, the hatred, all washed away so quickly. 

Sunghoon and Minhee aren’t best friends, they tolerate one another; that’s what they are telling themselves at least. Your brother asked for Sunghoon’s number after the conference to ‘keep an eye on him’ but you knew better than that.

Minhee wanted to be his friend because he knew if he did, you would be happy. Everything in his life, he does for you.

A ping sounds from his phone, and a wicked smile spreads across his face, “Ha! See, your boy is on board!” he shows you the text message from Sunghoon which reads ‘If you get the soap, I’ll grab the shampoo and conditioner. We go halfsies?’

“You’re both ridiculous,” you quip, pushing Minhee’s phone away from you. 

You can’t deny the warm feeling in your chest as you watch Minhee laugh at his phone, the friendship between them both blossoming in front of your very eyes.

A loud knock on the door startles you both, your hand reaching for your chest at the fright. Was it really necessary for someone to bang the door so ferociously at 5pm, especially when the hotel rooms are already small, echoing the vibrations around the walls?

Minhee stands up, making his way to answer rudely to the person on the other side for almost giving him a heart attack; however, when he opens the door, the last person on earth you want to see barges through your door.

“Ugh, can you believe they’ve put me in a room on the other side of the hotel away from you? Took me 10 minutes just to get here,” your mum huffs, blowing her fringe out of her flushed face. She looks like she’s just run the London Marathon, not walked across a lobby and rode the lift.

It’s amazing how one woman can change the atmosphere of the room. The once happy and carefree vibe you and Minhee were basking in has now been sucked out, replaced with a heavy cloud of anguish.

There’s an anxiety creeping up into your chest as you face your mum for the first time since that day. You were unequipped to handle the situation because of her sudden presence, thinking you would at least have a few hours before she requested you for dinner. 

But she’s here, right now, and you have to face this head-on. 

She clasps her hands together and spins to face Minhee and yourself, “I have news,” she exclaims, delighted with whatever information she is about to share.

A quick glance at Minhee and you both share the same sceptical expression. He steps closer to you, hoping that you can find some comfort in his presence, which you do but this is also your conniving mother you’re both faced with, anything can fall past her lips, and that makes this ten times more nerve wracking.

“After Sunghoon pulled that god-awful scheme - so sorry, Y/N,” her words speak of condolences yet her tone is anything but sympathetic, “I have found something else.” The delight on her face makes you feel sick. You know Mrs. Park is the biggest cause for this rivalry, so why is she so intent on bringing Sunghoon down to the lowest pits of hell and back? 

You nor Minhee have told your mum that you know the audio of Sunghoon was AI-generated, or that you and Sunghoon are back to being as in love with each other as ever, in fact, she might have brought you closer together. Her little plan actually got you and Sunghoon to promise to be one hundred percent honest with each other, especially about your feelings for one another. 

Sunghoon meant it when he said he wanted to start fresh, a clean slate, but for him that just meant professing his love to you all over again, determined to make sure you never doubted his true intentions for you ever again. Of course, you did the same, telling him how you would trust him and your relationship before anything else because why on earth do you have any reason not to?

“What are you talking about?” Minhee is the first to speak between you, taking the lead as your bigger brother. He didn’t know what she had up her sleeve but he wouldn’t believe a spoken syllable that came from her mouth; not anymore.

Happily, your mother picks out her phone from her handbag and searches for something. There is a sickening feeling rising in your stomach again, the deja vu washing over you. Minhee senses your unease and rubs your back softly, and as you turn your attention to him, he shakes his head, assuring you that whatever you are going to see will be fabricated.

However, as she passes your brother the phone, you see a video waiting to load and see a familiar-looking lawn.

Oh no.

As Minhee hits play, you see Sunghoon’s fist connect with that boy's face, the same boy that touched you, the night you called him to come get you. The sickness that had stilled before has now reached the tip of your throat, your heart pounding outside your chest only making it boil more.

This is real, this isn’t fake.

The scene in the video is so strange because as you hear your cries for him to stop, you don’t remember it that well. You knew he punched fuck out of the guy but you hadn’t really visually recalled it in your memory, yet, it was like living the feeling all over again. 

Your brother watches the video with the same shock and horror as you do, except, he is more concerned by your shrieks in the background. When was this? He ponders to himself, confused as he continues to see Sunghoon beat the boy down. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Sunghoon killed him. Fuck, he genuinely might have as far as Minhee is concerned.

He recognises the boy in the video, having had a few altercations with Yeonjun and his team himself over the years, so he knows that whatever caused this ruthless beating, it was probably something bad.

“W-where did you get this?” you ask tentatively. If your mother has seen it, anyone could have.

With a glint of victory, she answers, “Facebook of all places! I was just scrolling and someone shared it,” she shrugs, leaving you to battle with the information that your boyfriend's attempt to protect you might be the very cause of his downfall. You recall something he said not too long ago,

“Everything wrong in my life seems to be because of your family.”

Sunghoon spoke those words and you knew they were true, yet, you hoped it excluded you, but this just proves you’re just as bad as your mother.

Minhee feels your distress beside him, your body shaking slightly as you continue to watch the video. He doesn’t know what happened or why but he knows you’re traumatised by it. He stops the video, locking the phone abruptly, “Mum, what does this have to do with anything? This is just a video of him punching that guy from the hockey team,” Minhee tries to downplay it, hoping and praying your mum hasn’t already done something drastic with the video.

“I’m taking it to the board, obviously. He can’t get away with causing violence,” your mum speaks. You take the time in the silence that surrounds the room to wonder if she would be so eager to share the video if she knew why Sunghoon was on his knees, beating the guy to a pulp.

Minhee shakes his head definitely, “No, mum, you’re not,” his voice wavers; this is the first time he has stood up to your mum in such a long time. Her claws were usually so deep into your brother that he stood back and took it, but not any more.

“Huh?” your mum asks perplexed, head tilted to the side in curiosity, “Don’t you see, Minhee, this is how we guarantee you the win, they might let him skate but nullify his points. Remember what we have on the line,” she tries to be secretive but you already know what she’s talking about.

“Stop! Just stop trying to interfere with this, with my skating, with the Parks. Just fucking stop.” The sudden rise in Minhee’s voice makes you jump but he is quick to rub your back again, trying to prove his determination to make this right, for all the times he let her puppeteer him into doing her dirt work.

He breathes out, “I told Y/N everything, and I told Sunghoon. We also know that the phone call was fake and that you’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a mother,” his voice is venomous, the words harshly leaving his mouth. 

Your mum is silent, not even her breath can be heard amidst Minhee’s speech, “You’ve done nothing but hurt us since dad left, constantly blaming me for putting you in debt, never acknowledging your daughter or any of her achievements. I won’t stand here and let you do this anymore.”

“But Minhee-”

“No, you listen to me. I will win on Saturday and when I do, take all the money you get from this shitty bet and fuck off out of our lives, understood?” You stare at the ground with wide eyes, scared to look up and see the anger in Minhee’s face, his voice being scary enough. 

It’s unlike your brother to get this angry, you thought the extent of his rage peaked when he confronted you about your relationship with Sunghoon. But this is much worse, more dangerous. 

Then again, this is also years of being told you owe your career and livelihood to someone who only uses it against you would also take its toll on you.

Sucking in a breath, your mum moves forward, “What are you talking about, baby boy. I’m your mother,” she tries to soften him up but it won’t work. He’s too far gone in his rage.

“No, you’re not. From this point on, you’re no one’s mum. When you get your winnings, take them and never speak to me or Y/N again. I am sick to the back teeth of you putting unnecessary pressure on me, getting me involved in all this mess with Sunghoon. Not to mention how you’ve been treating Y/N the past few months.”

“You can’t kick me out of my own family!” she protests, all acts of sorrow gone in a flash, replaced with fury. 

“I just have. I’m moving out, I’m taking Y/N with me, and this is the last you will see us,” Minhee’s chest is closing in on itself as he finally loses all cool, ready to give your mum everything that’s been waiting for her.

Exhaling, your mum yields, nodding disapprovingly, “You make sure I get my money. You brats deserve nothing considering the life I provided for you both.”

That last sentence confirmed everything you two already knew, it was always about the money. Part of you wonders if it was always about the money, or if that was just something at came along the way. For your peace of mind, you hope it’s the latter. 

Despite her ways, you like to believe she did love you guys at some point, and deep down still does.

The tension in the room is so thick, it’s choking you, causing you to clam up and stay silent. You want to say so much; how she never gave you both anything, that it was your dad who set you both up with your lives, how she took away your happiness and put the relationship with the love of your life in jeopardy. You wanted to shout and scream at her, but it was useless. She won’t listen, her face beat red.

Without uttering another word, she goes to leave the room, snatching her phone back, but Minhee isn’t done, “Oh, and don’t think for a second of showing that video to any of the skating board, or else I’ll turn myself in about Sunghoon’s skate and tell the police exactly what you’ve been up to.”

Both you and your mother exchange fearful glances – you, worried for Minhee's cherished career, and your mother, concerned about her potential loss of status and wealth.

Clicking her tongue in irritation, your mother scoffs, shaking her head. "You wouldn’t dare," she argues, trying to convince herself as much as her son.

"Try me. I have nothing left to lose," he retorts.

"You wouldn’t sacrifice your Olympic dreams," she counters smugly, believing she's won the argument.

"I would sacrifice anything for my sister's happiness, a concept you clearly can't grasp."

Your eyes fill with emotion as Minhee's words sink in. Could he really be prepared to give up his dream just to protect you from your mother? To safeguard you from any potential harm. As you lock eyes with your brother, a deep realisation sweeps over you: absolutely, he would.

Your mother walks out of the room in a disappointed huff, leaving behind a heavy atmosphere packed with unresolved tension. Left alone with Minhee, you both silently battle with the weight of the dramatic event that just took place, processing it all in your own way.

As the echoes of your mother's departure fade, a solemn stillness settles over the room, punctuated only by the sound of your shared breaths. You and Minhee exchange a wordless glance, each grappling with the weight of the confrontation that has unfolded.

“The video…you were there. What the fuck was that about?” Minhee questions, his voice not quite accusatory, but still webbed in anger. Honestly, you should have expected it, the bloody scene would be a cause of concern to anyone and after he just said he vowed to protect you, he wanted to know how this situation arose.

"It was a party, about three or four months ago, I think," you begin, weighing your words carefully as you try to gauge how much to reveal to Minhee. Your brother is already teetering on the edge of adrenaline-fueled rage, and recounting the details of Heosun's unwelcome advances towards you doesn't seem like the best idea in the current tense atmosphere.

Minhee listens attentively, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Go on," he prompts gently, sensing the weight of your hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, "There was this guy who wouldn't leave me alone, and Sunghoon came to pick me up, and well, you saw what happened." You lower your gaze, feeling a pang of shame at the memory of the chaos that ensued that night.

Now, with your mother's hands all over the incriminating video, you feel the weight of the burden resting heavily on your shoulders. If she were to show anyone that footage, it could spell the end of Sunghoon's career – all because of the consequences of your past decisions.

Despite Sunghoon's reassurances that none of it was your fault, the guilt gnaws at you relentlessly. It's one thing to hear those words, but it's another to truly believe them, especially in the face of such dire consequences.

Minhee can feel your body tremble and it softens his mood, his brotherly instincts taking charge over his anger. He pulls you in for a hug, scratching the back of your head to soothe your thoughts.

“I would say I’d kill that hockey player if I wasn’t convinced Sunghoon’s already taken care of it,” he chuckles at his attempt to lighten the mood, but your overthinking is taking hold of you, scared for what will happen. 

Knowing you your whole life, Minhee knows what your brain is doing right now, “Hey, you aren’t to blame for any of this. Heosun is the one to blame for trying to take advantage of you,” his fingers dig into your scalp as he says the crime out loud. He can’t stand that he wasn’t there for you during your time of need.

However, he is thankful Sunghoon was there.

He leans back to look at you, your eyes glazed over with thoughts. Patting your head, he tries to reason with your mind, “You can’t let mum’s manipulation make you feel responsible for all of this. Sunghoon is a grown man and he made his choices,” he sees his words infiltrating your doubt, like a soldier breaking down the gate to the castle, “He did what anyone would have done.”

You manage a weak smile, grateful for his support even as the guilt continues to run through you, "I know, but... what if I could have handled things differently?" you mumble, the weight of self-blame heavy in your voice.

Minhee shakes his head, his eyes filled with conviction, “Don’t do that, Bubs. You did everything you could, I believe that.”

His words provide a glimmer of consolation amidst the disarray of your thoughts. For a minute, you allow yourself to lean into his calming presence, drawing strength from your brother's support.

You both sit in silence for a while, needing to calm down from your emotions. The whole ordeal has led you away from a pivotal point in his conversation with your mum, something that you wanted to question.

“What if you don’t win?” you pull your head from his chest, looking up at him concerned. If he doesn’t win, there’s no knowing what your mum might do. She would lose far too much money just to let it slide, not to mention the vendetta she probably has against Minhee after his harsh words.

Calmly, he smiles, “I’ve got it covered, don’t worry.” With a kiss on the top of your head, he releases you from his grip. It’s a clear indication that he doesn’t want to push this conversation any further.

But you can’t help but be concerned.

_____

Pressing your key card to the door, you walk in and instantly hear laughter coming from Minhee and Sunghoon. The sound fills you with a sense of relief, worried that your absence from the hotel room to grab some snacks from the shop down the street was enough time for them to start arguing and throwing punches.

You really should have had more faith in them, particularly after the car journey, yet, you still have a horrible feeling that settles inside your chest because it’s all going too perfectly.

Minhee is doubled over, face red from laughter while Sunghoon’s eyes are wide, an incredulous smile smacked across his features. It’s amazing how well they shine together when they don’t have their mothers putting the weight on their shoulders, forcing them into unhealthy competition.

“She padded it so much to impress you, it was hilarious!” you hear Minhee cackle as he speaks as you shut the door behind you. They haven’t noticed your presence, too caught up in the hilarity of their conversation.

Sunghoon lets out a ‘huh’ in realisation, “That’s what that was? I was so confused, I thought she had a reaction to something,” he chuckles, still processing whatever information Minhee was divulging. 

The atmosphere is light, making you smile widely as you walk further into the hotel room, “What are you guys talking about?” 

Turning to face you, both boys burst into another fit of laughter as soon as they see you. It makes you self-conscious, suddenly making you wish you checked yourself in the lift mirror before coming back.

Minhee wipes a tear from his eye before letting you in on their little secret, “I told him how you stuffed your bra with tissue paper trying to impress him,” he points his head to Sunghoon who is currently rolling on the bed in stitches.

The memory flashes in your mind as your face falls. You were young, foolish, and watched 13 going on 30 a little too much; it was a stupid idea. In your defence, a rumour was circulating that Sunghoon’s ideal type was someone like Irene from Red Velvet and she was so perfect you tried to look like her, stuffed bra and all.

You stand traumatised for a minute as you start to vividly recall the way your tissue boobs must have looked to everyone else, “Oh my…god! Can you guys shut up, I was like 12,” you groan hiding your face behind the bags of starburst and skittles.

“You didn’t even need a bra,” Minhee argues back, clearly enjoying the torment his story is providing you, “It’s my brotherly duty to tell your boyfriend all the embarrassing stories I have about you,” he’s smug, lips upturned in a grin.

Forcefully, you toss his sweets at his head, aiming for pain. But Minhee has fast reflexes and dodges it easily. Out of all the stories to tell, why did it have to be that one? Couldn’t it have been the one where you accidentally vomited all over him after he punched you too hard in the chest or that time you wrote a marriage proposal to Niall Horan and even set a date. Anything but the padded bra. 

Sunghoon is still laughing, also reminiscing about that day, however, he isn’t so embarrassed. To be honest, he didn’t pay much attention, and he certainly didn’t know it was to impress him. Knowing it now only gives him more reason to be completely in love with you because even at 12, you wanted to be with him so much you were willing to change for him.

But he never wants you to change. Not ever.

“I honestly can’t believe you thought that would impress me,” he starts to calm down, beaming up at you; however, he is just as guilty for laughing, so you throw the last packet of sweets at his head. He isn’t so used to avoiding flying objects and you hit him straight on his nose, “Okay, ow!” he winces dramatically.

Sometimes you forget Sunghoon is an only child and didn’t have the sibling reflex, “Shit, I’m sorry, Hoon,” you apologise, leaning down to assess the damage but before you get too close, Sunghoon bursts into laughter once again. Slapping his chest you sit next to him, disgruntled. 

Once he has composed himself, he sits up and pulls you into his side, kissing the top of your head, “Honestly, I think it’s kind of cute,” he whispers into your hair, trying to ease your brass neck. You can’t help but smile at his words, glad that he didn’t see you as some pathetic little girl.

You fail to understand that Sunghoon could never perceive you as anything other than perfect. Sure, no one actually is flawless, but you’re pretty close in his eyes; you’re perfect for him.

“Okay, I will stop telling stories if you guys stop acting so mushy,” Minhee relents, opening his packet of Skittles. 

Tilting your head up, you place a soft kiss on Sunghoon’s lips, just to add a little torment to your brother which works because he’s fake gagging on his bed. He’s so dramatic but you’ll take the teasing over him holding a grudge about your relationship.

“I love you,” Sunghoon whispers tenderly, his hand squeezing your soft side, “padded bra and all.”

“Shut up, oh my god,” you push him away playfully, trying to act annoyed but it doesn’t really work, you can’t stay angry at him for longer than a day - your entire relationship journey has proven that; even when you fight, big or small, you always find your way back to one another quickly. 

You don’t mean to think so seriously in such a lighthearted moment, but you can’t help but be thankful for everything that has transpired. There are times you want to start over completely, not lie to your brother, stick up to your mum, skip the whole ‘friends with benefits’ deal and just be with one another completely. But in truth, it’s just made your relationship stronger, both of you releasing that there isn’t a day you both don’t want to be together.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sweets?” he asks in a whisper, petting you with love. 

You shake your head, “Nothing, just happy. That’s all.” And it was the truth, you’ve never been more content with anything in your life.

Minhee clears his throat, “Guys, seriously. Glad you’re all in love but can we pick a show now?”

Sunghoon and you shuffle to sit on your bed, getting comfy as Minhee flicks through the TV section on Netflix and when you and your brother both see My Demon in recently added, you both turn to one another, smiling brightly.

Your boyfriend isn’t completely aware of your obsession with Song Kang, but he is about to find out.

_____

As the hours go by, face masks have been done and subsequently making the whole room smell of paella and vanilla, you begin to hear Minhee snoring on the other bed; you’re 5 episodes into My Demon and clearly, he has had enough. Fair enough, it is reaching midnight and he is up extremely early tomorrow, but so is Sunghoon and he is wide awake, not caring about his beauty sleep one bit.

In fact, he has started caressing your thigh a bit too close to a certain area. All night he’s found some way to touch you, either a hug, spooning you, or grazing his fingers over any skin that isn’t covered. Luckily for him, your shorts have ridden up just enough to leave the tops and inners of your thighs exposed.

You push his hand away, “Mini is right there,” you speak lowly, trying to caution him off but Sunghoon couldn’t care less, only tracing up further to your core.

“He’s sleeping,” he argues back as he spares a quick glance to a passed-out Minhee.

Honestly, he was so sick of you melting when Song Kang popped up on the TV, he’s not afraid to admit that he’s jealous. Every time you held in a squeal as the actor smiled or had his top off, he knew he had to get you back to reality, back to the time when all you saw was him. It was childish but he doesn’t bother to worry about that, knowing you like it when he’s a bit possessive and clingy.

You sit up straight to face him, eyes flashing in warning, “He could wake up,” you’re trying to reason with him but his face doesn’t show any sense of understanding of how badly this scenario could end. You’ll do a lot with Sunghoon but fucking him while your brother is in the room is a hard pass. He was insatiable, you always knew it, you just thought he had some decorum when it came to having sex in front of family.

Smirking, Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “With how loud you are, he probably would wake up.” Teasing you isn’t the best approach for getting what he wants, he sees that in your peeved expression, “Fine, how about we go to my hotel room?” he offers as a solution.

With his fingers now dancing along the top of your pussy, you quickly agree, already standing up and pulling him out of the room, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut. 

Once you both enter his room, he wastes no time, kissing you roughly like he has been wanting to do since you changed into your little pyjamas. The heat from his body is a telltale sign that he’s ready to just ravish you as soon as he gets you naked.

And that he does, stripping you of any material you have on and pushing you onto the bed. You’re a vision in front of him, some hickeys and bruises scattered over your body from the last time you had sex, which in Sunghoon’s mind, was far too long ago. 

With hungry eyes, you watch as he sheds his own clothing, revealing his arousal as he strokes himself slowly. Your breath catches in anticipation, craving the feel of him inside you, the throbbing intensity of his desire mirrored in you.

“I’ve got a surprise,” he says suddenly, licking his lips mischievously.

You lean on your elbows, confused by his words, “What kind of surprise?”

Holding a finger up, he  bends down to his suitcase, rummaging through it to find something, only making you more curious, “It’s in here somewhere,” he states more to himself than you, his smile widening as he comes across something, “There you are.”

As he stands back up, you look into his hand and your jaw hits the floor, “Where did you get that?”

Sunghoon stands proud as punch as he twirls the pink rose toy in his right hand, smiling at it happily, “I know a thing or two, Sweets.”

You had your own rose toy at home, literally more prized than the award you won a few months ago. It’s your saviour when you’re too stressed or just craving some release when Sunghoon isn’t readily available. You hadn’t told him about it, so you’re a little shocked he had one.

It also looked much better than yours so you’re going to have to sneak it into your bag before you all leave on Sunday.

Snaking his way to you, he shows you it up close, “Y’know, I used to think these toys were the enemy, taking away something from me,” he pauses, spitting on the top of it, rubbing his saliva into the creases of the rose petals, “But then I thought, it could really be an asset.”

Pressing the power button on, the machine starts to vibrate and suck in air, making you swallow dryly in anticipation. You knew how good it felt when you used it on your own so you can only imagine the power it holds in Sunghoon’s hands. 

Sleeking it to your folds, he wastes no time in pressing it directly on your clit, wiggling it around to make sure he has it on your sweet point. As you gasp and fall flat on the bed, he knows he’s found it.

Sunghoon knows how it works but this is admittedly his first time seeing it in action and by God was he glad he stumbled across it on Twitter. The way you’re already wriggling under its suck is causing his cock to jump straight up in arousal. This is such a nice change for him, to see how your tits move from side to side as your body responds to the sensation on your clit, your mouth falling open so beautifully as whimpers escape. Normally, he’s got a different view, his head buried where the rose toy is right now; he’ll need to find more ways to witness you from this angle.

“Hoon! It’s-” You don’t get to finish your sentence as he loosens the toy which only makes it suck your clit up harder. What you were going to say is that it’s already got you close, the mix of the vibration and everything else proving a bit too much. 

Typically, when you use the toy back home, it’s a 5-minute job, the flower living up to its hype, and now is no exception. But there’s something even more arousing about your boyfriend being in control of it all. If it got a little intense, you could normally pull it away of your own accord, but with Sunghoon in control, you don’t have that luxury; you need to power through the fire that is burning within your nub.

Seeing you close, he licks and bites his bottom lip, thinking of how he can take credit for some of this climax, rather than congratulations only being on the vibrating machine in his hand. He suddenly shoves three of his fingers into his mouth, gathering his spit onto them before brushing them along your hole. 

The rose already has you super wet so it’s easy for him to slide his digits right in, getting to work on finding your spongy spot, the very spot that he always curls into and gets you cumming. 

With the addition of Sunghoon’s fingers, your eyes roll to the back of your head, only the whites of your eyes visible. It’s intense and you’re going to cum so hard over his fingers you might genuinely be spent after this one orgasm.

Like a crash, you cry out his name, chanting a few swear words for punctuation as you cum. Your clit throbs and puffs out as you orgasm, only making the toy have more to suck and pulse onto. It’s like heaven and hell all came at once, not sure if the pleasure outdoes the pain or vice versa. To be fair, the pain isn’t excruciating, you just feel yourself being overstimulated by the rosebud and Sunghoon’s fingers which isn’t a bad thing, just takes some time to adjust.

Sunghoon’s fingers thrust into you fast, each time he drags it out, more of your essence is left on the hotel covers, painting them a darker shade of ivory. He thinks it’s a waste, how the bedsheets get to soak up your juices when it should be his tongue, but he can’t change up the pace now, your body speaking the words you can’t. You’re enjoying this far too much.

“Sunghoon, please!” you whine while your body instinctively tries to retreat from his touch to find relief. 

“You want something, baby?” he asks so innocently, his fingers still thrusting into you with velocity, “Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

He sits on his knees, looking down at you to wait for your response, one he knows will take all your strength to muster. You’re a sight to behold; eyes screwed shut as you try to work through the overstimulation yet your mouth breathing out loud moans. 

“Cock,” is the only word you can say, so drunk on the pleasure that you’re practically dumb in lust, not a thought in your brain other than getting fucked by Sunghoon’s thick cock.

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, “You want my cock?” your boyfriend’s ego is already big but when he gets you into bed, it increases tenfold. He adores that you want him and his body just as much as he wants yours.

“Fuck, yes, Hoonie, please,” you beg, trying to remove both his hands so he’ll just slip into you. 

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he says huskily, his heart swelling in his chest with pride. 

However, what you want him to do is remove the toy with his fingers, which is clearly a pipe dream since the next thing that happens makes you scream. 

His fingers are replaced with his long cock, but he doesn’t remove the toy from your aching nub, rather, moving it even more directly over you, dancing it along with your body as you try to get away. He’s being so cruel to you, causing this torment of excessive stimulation.

Sunghoon doesn’t see it that way though, he knows when you finally relax and ride through the burning, you’ll be begging him to keep going. Also, with every thrust of his cock into your tight pussy, he gets a jolt of vibration hitting the end of his shaft, giving him a new sense of pleasure.

He hasn’t ever used toys on himself, his hand and you being all he needs, but he might just have to find a few new ways to incorporate some toys into the mix. Perhaps he can convince you to let him use a massager in the future.

Jackhammering into you, he throws his head back, getting lost in the feeling of your walls slamming down on him. Your body is busily thrashing beneath him, only giving the tip of his member new areas to get in amongst. 

“You feel so fucking good, Sweets,” he groans out, only going faster and deeper into you. The toy is an excellent companion, however, it’s limiting his horsepower, wishing he could just bend you in half and drive into you with no mercy. 

Finally, he takes the flower from your clit, and your body instantly relaxes. The cold air whisking over your hot pussy is like breathing in fresh air after being in a stuffy room for too long; it’s heaven. 

It doesn’t take Sunghoon long to find a new purpose for it though, placing it over one of your hardened nipples, “Hold that there for me, baby,” he asks, making sure that your nipple is full inside the hole of the toy. You feel the vibrating all the way up to your jaw, but you oblige, anything for him to fuck you like he always does.

Getting into a new position, he finds a new harsher rhythm, his pointed thrusts snapping into you with the purpose of getting you both off. Sunghoon’s entire body is rocking, the bed squeaking lousy under you both, only drowned out by the clusters of your moans.

Before you know it, you’re cumming again, this time, you think you’re going to squirt all over him, the feeling of release far too intense to be a normal few sprits that will coat his cock. Instead, you roar loudly, like no noise you’ve ever made before, one of those groans that comes straight from your toes and through your chest. You lose grip of the toy and focus on finding anything to anchor onto, scared you might float away with your second climax.

Hearing you cry out erupts a drive in him, his hips moving into you just as you like it. Flinging your legs over his shoulders, he grabs both of your hands in his and piledrives into you, his lips finding yours in a fevered kiss. 

You can tell he’s close too, the heavy rise and fall in his chest a dead giveaway. His cock is leaking cum into you in short bursts, causing his hips to jerk quickly into you, almost like he’s trying to make sure his dick is stuck inside you as deep as it can possibly go. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, a little bit of drool falling from his lips which you gladly lick up before slipping your tongue into his mouth. Sunghoon can’t stop cumming inside you, each time he thinks he’s finished, a few more ropes escape him. 

You can feel both of your cum running down your ass cheeks, the escaping liquid running hot as Sunghoon musters up any energy he has left to hold himself above you, “I think I might have set a new record for how much cum can spill from a man,” he laughs, giving you eskimo kisses.

Reaching over, you turn the rose toy off, leaving the room filled with only your intertwined heavy breaths and laughter. You feel so happy in this moment that you could honestly die happily right now.

Sunghoon climbs off you, pulling you up with him, leaving a gentle his on your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom to find something to clean you both with. You lean over the bed, finding one of his t-shirts sitting in his suitcase and putting it on your spent body. The best part of spending any form of time with Sunghoon is stealing his clothes.

Walking back in with a face cloth, he wipes your pussy and thighs down, his fingers fishing out any cum remnants left. The sudden curling of his finger makes you clench again, “Sorry, Sweets. That was just a lot of cum, need to make sure it’s all out,” he whispers.

“I’ll go pee, that’ll help,” you say back, pushing him away to give you a pathway off the bed to excuse yourself to the toilet.

While you’re in there, he tidies up and puts on some fresh boxers, his cock still softening from the intensity of the fucking it just had. As he picks up the rose toy he smiles, chucking it into his case with a promise to use it at least once more before you leave. 

“Tomorrow is a big day, huh?” your voice travels from the bathroom as you wash your hands. 

“I suppose so,” Sunghoon responds, a little too nonchalant. 

He should be nervous, it’s a massive competition that is broadcast to thousands. Sure, he has done this a few times but surely with the ankle injury, he should be a bit apprehensive about going out there. 

You climb onto the bed and sit on his lap, arms circling his neck, “Why don’t you seem worried about this?” you ask, playing with the ends of his dampened hair.

In response, he shrugs, “I’m the number one skater, why should I be?” This isn’t his normal cocky attitude, this is something else. He knows something that he’s not telling you.

And you’ll be damned if you’re kept in the dark about another thing.

“Tell me the truth, Sunghoon. We promised not to lie to one another anymore.”

“It’s not lying if I just withhold information,” he replies, his lips trying to distract you as they pepper kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

But you push him away before you do get too into it, “That wasn’t the case when I ‘withheld information’ about Minhee breaking your skate,” you retort, hating to bring up the past but when push comes to shove, you’ll do it.

Closing his eyes, he nods in understanding. Sunghoon knows you’re right, you don’t deserve to be in the dark, “I’m throwing the competition tomorrow.”

The room goes quiet as you process his words. At this moment, you feel a sense of burden creeping back onto your body, “What do you mean throwing it? You haven’t lost a competition like this since you turned 16.” He isn’t the Nation’s best skater for nothing, he’s proved time and time again that he’s not to be underestimated.

Suddenly, the conversation with his mum pops back into your head for some reason. Her lack of acknowledgement of Sunghoon’s talents must have been with him for so long - fuck, they might still be with him. Maybe he’s throwing it in defiance?

He sees you think it over and over before he finally interjects, “I’ll still place top 3, Sweets. I’m just making sure he comes first, that’s all.”

“Why would you do that? You know if he finds out, he’ll be livid.” You can’t imagine Minhee ever wishing Sunghoon to yield it so easily, your brother worked too hard to perfect his routine to win by some giveaway.

“Okay,” he breathes out, knowing this conversation is about to get a little difficult, “We both decided it, actually. That day we went into the coach's office? Yeah, that’s what he wanted to talk to me about.”

“You want me to what?” Sunghoon asks, accompanied by a scoff. 

Minhee bites his tongue from making any rash comment, needing the other skater on his side for his plan to work, “I want you to throw Nationals.” 

Letting a venomous laugh out, Sunghoon shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re seriously asking me to purposefully lose at Nationals after everything you’ve done to me? To Y/N? You can forget it.”

Storming off, Sunghoon can barely reach the door before Minhee swings him back around to face him, a fire in his eyes that Sunghoon has never seen before, “Look, this isn’t for me. It’s for Y/N.” 

“Yeah of cours-”

“Let me fucking finish, Park,” Minhee snaps, his voice raised and arm gripping Sunghoon a little rougher, “Y/N told you about our mum, how she has stakes on me winning?” he waits to make sure you did actually have such a conversation with your boyfriend, to which Sunghoon nods, waiting for your brother to continue, “If I win, she gets a boat load of money, it’s all illegal and there are rules and stakes that I don’t even know the full detail of but either way, she’s playing it dirty with some big bosses. She took money from some guys to put the bets on, y’know?”

Minhee’s explanation isn’t convincing his counterpart, wondering where you come into this, “I don’t hear Y/N’s name in this. If your mum has a gambling addiction, that’s between her and the guys she’s fucking over, not my girl.” 

“The bets are in Y/N’s name.”

“What?” Sunghoon yanks his arm from his grasp, stepping back a little, “You mean she’s tied up in all of this?”

Nodding, Minhee feels the familiar boil of rage within him. He still can’t fully comprehend how his mother could do this to you, she is meant to look after you, not cause you harm, “I know, it’s fucked. If mum loses these bets, guess who everyone is going to be gunning for?”

Sunghoon’s heart quickens, the thought of you being in danger is making him feel sick and the words hang heavily in the air between the two people who love you the most. Your entanglement within this mess of a web was the last thing Sunghoon thought Minhee would say.

“So if you win, and she gets the money…”

“Then they get their cut. Happy days, my sister is no longer in danger,” Minhee rubs his temples, trying to give his brain a moment to gather itself before he divulges the rest, “I’m telling you this because I know you love her and as I said, you’d be doing this for her.” 

There is so much to think about that Sunghoon’s brain is sparking out a little, but one thing is for certain, he is going to do everything in his power to protect you, “Fine. I’ll lose. But how do we know your mum won’t do something else?”

“I don’t,” Minhee confesses truthfully. He has no idea if she’ll even give the men their cut once he wins, “I’m gonna tell her that I know about her gambling and the illegality of it all, hope that scares her enough to not try and fuck any of us over, y’know?”

“That’s all you’re going to do? The love of my life is out there with a target on her back and you’re just going with a presumption that she’ll back off by a threat?” There is steam coming from Sunghoon’s head and his fists are balled up in rage. This isn’t something to be taken lightly.

Minhee holds in his frustration, knowing Sunghoon is only looking out for you, but the lack of faith in him is making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool, “She might be your girlfriend, but she’s my sister, alright. I have been doing everything in my willpower to keep her safe since we were little…Listen, I know my mum, she’s scared and I can see it. She’s way deeper into this than she knows how to deal with, she wants that money and to get away from those gambling sharks, yeah? My mum won’t do anything like this again, I feel it.”

It’s a hunch, a loose, untrusted huch, but it’s all he’s got. He just wants to protect you right here and now. If your mum stoops low enough to bring you back into a mess like this, he’ll sort it when the time comes.

Seeing Minhee’s resolve, the raven-haired boy retracts, calming down. He knows Minhee is trying his best, and if he can keep you out of immediate danger by coming in second at a competition, he will gladly do it.

You sit still, processing the bomb that has just been dropped on you. The gambles being in your name is something you had no idea about, hence why they probably didn’t tell you about this grand plan. 

What does someone even do in this situation? 

Sunghoon rubs your arm reassuringly, trying to get you to speak or even make a noise of acknowledgement. He can’t imagine how difficult it must be to hear this for the first time but he knew that he couldn’t tell you; if he let you in on Minhee and his secret, you would have tried to solve the problem yourself, to help everyone else in the situation as best you can, and he couldn’t watch you do that, not when none of this was your fault.

“Don’t throw it,” you say firmly. 

Sunghoon freezes, his hand stilling on your arm as he looks at you, surprise evident in his eyes. He hadn't expected those to be the first words to break the heavy silence that enveloped the room, “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you crazy?” 

Perhaps you are, but you can’t watch anyone sacrifice their livelihood, especially a chance of gold at Nationals, just for you. It’s selfish, on both your part and your mother's. No, you didn’t ask to be put in this situation, but there was something you could do now.

Unfortunately, this is what Sunghoon was afraid of.

“You saw Minhee’s skate, he’s phenomenal. I want him to win this properly,” you confess quietly, still struggling with the information relayed to you only minutes ago.

“What about your mum? Sweets, this is a full-proof plan to get you both away from your mum, to let you both live without her mess,” his left hand cradles your cheek as he moves closer to you, as if hearing the solution from a closer distance would suddenly help change your mind.

It won’t, you’re determined to have this conversation end your way the only option forward is, “Please, Hoonie. If he loses, we will deal with it…but I believe in Mini so much, especially after seeing the rehearsal a few weeks ago. I want him to know he can win this on his own merit.” Your eyes search for any ounce of understanding.

Sunghoon's brow furrows in frustration, his mind racing with the weight of the decision before you both. He wants nothing more than to protect you, to shield you from harm, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to upset you and go against your wishes.

Taking a deep breath, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his embrace offering silent reassurance and support. "Okay," he says finally, his voice tinged with resignation. "We'll do it your way. I won’t throw the competition but ONLY if he does well. He’s on before me on the card so I’ll make the call then,” he can barely believe he’s agreeing to this.

A mixture of relief and fear wash over you. You understand the gravity of his concession, knowing that it's not an easy decision for him to make. It fills you with gratitude that he actually listened to you.

"Thank you, Hoonie," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you lean into his embrace, seeking solace in his comforting presence. "I promise, we'll figure this out together. And Minhee... he'll do amazing, I just know it.”

The belief you have in your brother is something Sunghoon only wished for growing up, seeing how determined you are to make sure Minhee knows he’s talented enough to win and solve this mess by just being good at what he does makes your boyfriend a little envious. He knows why Minhee is so protective of you, but now seeing how you protect and only do the right thing for one another, putting your sibling before anything else, it’s admirable.

“What time is he on?” you ask, twiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“2:35pm. I’m on at 3:45pm so I’ll see the scores and whatever in plenty of time to determine what to do.” There is a new sense of life in Sunghoon, certain that no matter what happens tomorrow, he’s going to make sure you and Minhee walk out happily, with no worries perched on your shoulders.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen angst #melting point #aj writes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You spend the night on the couch. You don't go further than the bathroom. You can't bring yourself to check her bedroom or the one you left behind.

You go out to get your bag and change in the yellow haze glowing behind the faded curtains. You check the time. Jan is expecting you in an hour.

You emerge into the dewy morning and tramp down to ground level. You get in the car, reversing out without looking back at the dingy house. The final farewell can't come soon enough for the slanted walls.

Jan is out in the yard, hammering a pineboard as you drive down his lot. His white hair curls with the sweat beading on his skin. He stills the hammer and wipes his forehead as you pull up. 

You get out as he greets you in the way all the villagers do. A manufactured friendliness that cannot erase their true judgement. They smile in face just as easily as the mutter your name under their breath. You mother harboured little good will in Hammer Ford and blood is sacred here.

“Sorry to hear,” he says.

“Matter of time,” you shrug dismissively.

“Isn't no way to come home,” he shakes his head and coughs into his fist, “walnut,” he points the hammer over his shoulder, “like ya said.”

Walnut, like the dining table. Where she sat and drank herself into that box. You nod and follow him over to the casket. The hinges are brass and the finish is rough. What does it matter? It's just going into the dirt.

“Got cash,” you say. Jan doesn't deal with the bank, everyone knows that. Funny the little things that stick with you.

“Thanks,” he accepts the bills as you count them out. So much for a rainy day. The sun shine bright as if mocking the grin affair beneath its watch. “I'll have it taken down to Norn's.”

“Yep,” you agree, “she's there.”

You head out without further niceties. Neither of you uphold those. Better to say what you mean and nothing else.

You get to the property line and idle. You turn away from the woods. You're not ready to go back yet. 

You stop by the church first. Father Oswald sits with you to discuss the ceremony. You'll say a few words at the grave site. You don't think anyone would come to a wake. You don't want them to.

You set off again, still reluctant to retrace your steps. You drive to the spare core of the village and park outside the library. You cross the street and peer in through the window of the bakery. It wasn't there when you left.

You venture inside and peruse the sweets behind the glass. You order a black coffee and a cinnamon bun. You pay the woman behind the counter, vaguely familiar. You're certain she was a few years behind you at school.

You sit and pick at the glazed dough. You don't have much of an appetite. You don't feel much of anything. You're just wading through, try not to get lost in the tide.

You sip the coffee. Bold but rich. Not bad. Better than the instant powder gone stale in your mother's cupboard.

The door opens and shuts, several times over as you stare at the table. The city taught you apathy. You don't let the noise bother you.

The chair across from you slides out and a figure plants themselves on the seat. You raise your head, your vision narrowing to make sense of their features. You turn your head to gaze out the window as Loki blows over the top of a mug. 

You slide out your phone, a defence mechanism. Still no reception. You put it down and keep your attention diverted. He clears his throat and taps his toe next to yours.

“You know, I do have an important matter to discuss with you,” he says.

You don't react. You know that's what he wants. That's why he showed up the night before. He undoubtedly insisted on being his clan’s representative.

“You've sent your condolences.”

“Mm, yes, but that isn't what I mean,” he traces his finger up the handle of his mug. “The house.”

You lower your brows and keep your eyes beyond the window. The village moves slow as ever. Not like the endless flow of the city streets. There's no where to hide here.

“My father has an offer. The property has value.”

You check your cup, almost empty. You swig the last of it. You stand and gather the cup and unfinished dessert. You put the porcelain on the counter and toss the cinnamon bun on your way out.

The door doesn't close behind you. He's following you. Your heartbeat piques. In an instant, you're hurled into the past. You're running through broken twigs as he snickers behind you. You ball your hands as your breath hitches.

You cross the street without looking, only just dodging a bumper. You go to your car, fumbling with your keys. Before you can stick them in the slot, there's a snare around your arm.

You spin and shove Loki off of you, biting down on a shriek. You glare at him and point the key at his chin.

“Not interested.”

“My father will give you more than the bank,” he counters. 

“Don't care.”

He sniffs and quorks his head, “is this because I never called?”

You choke on a scoff. You turn and ram the keys in the slot and twist. You open the door as you step around it. The edge hits him as you swing into the driver’s seat.

“The house is worthless. The bank will give you pennies for the land.”

“Go tell your daddy you failed,” you sneer and yank the door shut, hitting the lock with your fist.

You start the engine without a glance in his direction. You pull put as he barely avoids getting his toes run over. Just as ever, this village belongs to the Odinsons. They won't have to pay the bank much to get what they want but you will never sign your name next to theirs.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #drabble #au #backwoods au #series #thor #avengers #mcu #marvel #forget-me-not

[backjustforberena]

Rhaenys's evolving view on female succession and female power:

Forgive me, this is going to be quite a long one, because I got far too frustrated with people. I wanted to take a specific look at Rhaenys and her trajectory throughout the first season, when it comes to the crucial question surrounding female succession because it's fairly unique in HOTD, being both a deeply personal issue for Rhaenys, despite her remoteness to the core conflict, and she's one of the only female characters to undergo a radical change in her opinion as the years go by.

Rhaenys is "The Queen Who Never Was". She goes from believing she will be Queen and capable of being Queen, to being publically denied her birthright and passed over specifically due to her sex, thus cementing the idea that no woman can ever be Queen. This becomes a primary source of hurt in Rhaenys: the rejection, the frustrated ambition and the inability to escape a moniker that becomes her legacy and a shackle. She can't get away from the fact that she is not Queen. She cannot get away from being reminded. She will carry this all throughout the series. For nearly 30 years (I think, the timelines are weird).

A natural defence, and a perverse one, is to then prop up the patriarchy. To assume that the system cannot be touched. Because if the system cannot be touched then it can't be anything personal to do with Rhaenys that she failed. She didn't have a chance in the first place. Much better, and easier, to cope with that than to confront the idea that it was a very, very personal rejection. That they could stomach a woman, just not you.

MORE UNDER THE CUT

This "comfort" gets attacked when Viserys names his daughter as his heir. The man they chose over her because she was a female... then bends the rules to make his daughter sworn as Princess of Dragonstone. If a girl can be the heir... then what was wrong with Rhaenys?

And so we get to Episode 02. Does Rhaenys think that Rhaenyra is going to be Queen? No. But here's the thing... no one else does. This is not Rhaenys being overly cynical. It's not her being bitter. It's her reading of the room as she sees it. She even says: "Oh, how I wish that could be, Rhaenyra." - but if Rhaenys sees the power as being with the men, then the men have already denied better candidates than Rhaenyra.

Is it bitter? Sure! Is she aggressive towards Rhaenyra? Kinda, but they both dish it out to each other. But is she wrong? Nope. That's the whole drive of the conflict. Rhaenyra is equating her position to Rhaenys's failure. And yes, being a named heir is something Rhaenys never got. But there's no stability in that, certainly not at this point in the game.

Does Viserys naming Rhaenyra change Rhaenys's view? No. Rhaenys doesn't see that as a step forward or an indicator that the realm is willing to accept a Queen. She sees it as one man making a decision for an interim period. She will know that it was done out of a political necessity to have an heir other than Daemon. It's not done because Rhaenyra is special or because Viserys has suddenly changed his mind over laws of succession - it's for selfish reasons. It's for political reasons. If it were always Viserys's wish then Rhaenyra would have been named heir the second that Viserys ascended. He didn't. Instead, he's only now lumped her with a title but he's not given her any duties beyond that.

And Rhaenys has no reason to think that, if a son is born, Viserys won't drop Rhaenyra like a hotcake. No reason whatsoever. Because it's not just about a father's opinion but a King's responsibility. It's about what the realm thinks and what Viserys is willing to bat for and, at this time, we don't know he's going to stick to his guns. And even if he does, Rhaenys knows conflict is inevitable: "Whether it’s to my daughter or to someone else’s, your father will remarry sooner than late. His new wife will produce new heirs, and chances are better than not that one of those will be male. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir, not you."

This conversation is tainted by Rhaenys's own ambitions and political placement at the time as well. Rhaenys is in the middle of trying to have her daughter marry the King. The advantage of that is mainly in the fact that if her daughter is Queen and gives birth to a son, Viserys will name him heir. Because that is the order of things, that is stability, and the realm needs to be stable. Rhaenys doesn't want to sacrifice her 12-year-old for ambitions that will never bear fruit. So, she clings to this idea as a way of making it a good one. As a way of making it a sensible one and a successful one.

If Rhaenyra was an only child or only candidate? Sure, Rhaenys has absolutely nothing against a woman being Queen. It's not a case of: I couldn't be Queen so you can't in any active way by Rhaenys - it's not her actions that are doing this, it's not an idea or a trajectory that she's necessarily powering. It's a recognition of the world they live in. It's a reality, for her, that will happen with or without her intervention because Rhaenys is aware that, when it comes to the "men of the realm" her actions mean very little. If they ever listened or valued her, she would have been on the Throne, after all.

And, at this point, Rhaenys has kind of got a stake in Rhaenyra failing because that could potentially mean a grandson of hers on the Throne. Either way, it is not her responsibility and there's nothing she can actually do, being roleless, other than to put Rhaenyra on her guard or else to make sure Rhaenyra doesn't get her hopes up. Rhaenyra needs to actually be Queen to create a new order.

So the conversation has many meanings. It's a warning, it's advice, it's education, it's wise, but it is also a threat. Rhaenyra cannot be powerful, cannot be the heir, because then what would that potentially mean for Laena?

Then we skip forward three years or so and get to Episode 05. Rhaenys no longer has the same view as she did when speaking to Rhaenyra in Episode 02 because something very crucial and drastic and surprising has happened that makes her rethink: Aegon has been born and Viserys still keeps Rhaenyra as his heir.

That's not the outcome Rhaenys had been expecting. That anyone had been expecting. We see that expressed by Jason Lannister and Otto and Hobert Hightower. It's heavily implied that people were generally expecting that when the King had a son, he will be the new heir and not Rhaenyra. But Viserys has gone against expectations and upholds Rhaenyra's claim and her eventual accession.

We never ever see Rhaenys questioning Rhaenyra's succession. Rhaenys never says that Rhaenyra shouldn't be Queen or that she won't be Queen. Rhaenys believes in Rhaenyra's claim so much that she and her husband betrothed their son to her. They do this in the expectation of Laenor being King-Consort and their heirs sitting the Iron Throne.

What Rhaenys does express, however, is the continual steadfast belief that a male claimant being around will lead to conflict if they are not careful. That it is dangerous. Corlys subdues this somewhat by saying it would be daft for anyone to try anything, given the Velaryons being on Rhaenyra's side is a slam-dunk ("our house controls the realm's navy and half its dragons").

Rhaenys is starting to see the reality of a Queen on the Throne being a far greater possibility. Just not without difficulty. And then everything happens with Laenor and the kids and Rhaenys just sort of ends up in a position where she hates everybody by the end of Episode 07. But her actions never threaten Rhaenyra or her chances of succession and Rhaenys never expresses any wish that Rhaenyra not ascend to be Queen.

Expressing caution or dislike or anything negative about Rhaenyra's succession or Rhaenyra as a person is separate from how Rhaenys sees the validity of Rhaenyra's claim and the idea of female succession.

An identification of dangers and a wish to confront those dangers to mitigate them (particularly surrounding the Driftmark succession chat with Corlys and her viewpoint on the boys' paternity) is not indicative of an invitation to those dangers. Quite the opposite. And you can attribute her lack of action over Laenor's "murder" as a recognition that Rhaenyra will be Queen i.e. whether Viserys is alive or dead, she is untouchable in this matter. Justice for Laenor is unachievable due to Rhaenyra's status and power, as well as a recognition of Rhaenys's own lack of power.

Rhaenys in Episode 08 is a purely independent creature. And I mean that both in terms of "teams" and in terms of her husband. Corlys hasn't been around in six years. She is acting on her own. She's still bound to him in terms of running Driftmark and her power being contingent on his (should he die, she is left with nothing). She's aware of his wishes but until Viserys walks into that room, it is not politically safe for her to abide by them, unless she wants to get taken down a peg alongside Rhaenyra and/or become a threat to the Greens.

This is where things sort of take a turn from Rhaenyra's succession to women's agency in general and, particularly, how she interacts with the idea of the patriarchy aka the system at the time.

There is GREAT indication that she was not going to do what Corlys wanted. Rhaenyra acknowledges that Rhaenys's intentions are different to hers - that's why she needs to broker a deal with Rhaenys, so that she will back Luke. And backing Luke is what Corlys would have wanted. Ergo, if Rhaenys's original plan was not to back Luke, then she wasn't going to do what Corlys wished.

She does, in the end, because the power in the room changes and she weaponises Corlys's name and her relationship to Corlys to safeguard herself. This recognition of her own limitations and the political landscape is another reason why she doesn't push for Baela as Lady of Driftmark. Believing a woman can and should rule or has a claim does not mean that that overrides every other survival instinct, especially if it would not be successful and would only invite danger for herself and for Baela. It would be utterly futile to bat for Baela.

When Rhaenys speaks to Alicent, she is not being hypocritical. She's not even trying to threaten Alicent or take her down with the line regarding toiling for men or with prisons. She's empathising, just as much as she is trying to unbalance her. It is figurative language that recognises Alicent's plight and Alicent's position within it and how Alicent sees herself.

Rhaenys has spent her life in the space between. A woman who could have had all the power, but was relegated to a position where she can only claim a small amount, either against other women or through her husband. She sees the heights she could have reached but has been made to wade in the mud. She uses soft power, political power, propelled by frustrated ambition and has been relegated to silence as much as she has to being in the position to speak. She has never "won", even in the previous episode. She has only survived.

There is an argument to say that Alicent has much more power than Rhaenys. She is Queen. She says she is a true Queen. But Rhaenys sees the limits that Alicent has placed on herself. She does not wield the power of a Queen. She has little agenda of her own other than that of her father, her husband and her son. She does not even have ambition: she has never pictured herself on the Throne - in the position of ultimate power. Rhaenys is the one locked in a room and yet Alicent is the desperate one.

I could say more but I won't, but Rhaenys is not hypocritical with Alicent. The point is this: Rhaenys's view on the patriarchy and the amount of power a woman can claim for herself is light years ahead of Alicent's. Rhaenys sees and knows a woman's capability. She sees the strength in their sex. She knows they are made for more. Alicent cannot. Alicent doesn't, due to Alicent's experiences. Rhaenys compliments Alicent, and Alicent cannot even accept that: it comes back to duty, rather than a skill or a trait.

Alicent, also, asks for Rhaenys's support because Alicent views Rhaenyra's cause as hopeless and bloody. It will destabilise everything: that is her worldview. When she brings up Rhaenys's claim and her capability for the Throne, it's not to flatter her and then say "so help me usurp another women", it's comparing them. If Rhaenys, with all her claim and her strengths and her spotless reputation, couldn't be suffered as Queen, then what hope does Rhaenyra have in being accepted? Rhaenyra, who has broken every single rule and has a less clear claim than Rhaenys did against Viserys. This is not an argument that Rhaenys agrees with.

In Episode 09, Rhaenys still wholeheartedly backs Rhaenyra. There is a distinction between believing Rhaenyra is the rightful heir and starting or going to war on her behalf because Rhaenys's priorities are still the lives of her husband and grandchildren and she doesn't know if there will be a war or what that will look like. But from the beginning, Rhaenys accuses Alicent of usurping the Throne. Rhaenys unequivocably sees Rhaenyra as the rightful heir and the heir her cousin wished to succeed him.

Her journey then, through Episode 10, is not only seeing Rhaenyra as the rightful heir, but a worthy one. It's not a choice of not backing her claim, it's a choice of whether or not to fight on behalf of that claim.

And it's also about Rhaenys taking her own power. Her instinct is to do what she's been doing for 30 years (there or thereabouts). What she's been doing for so long that it's muscle memory, even if it's not instinct. She wants to hold the ones she loves, and flee to safety. She doesn't want to head straight into conflict and feel like she's putting her loved ones in danger. It takes Baela (who has not been burnt, who is still young and hopeful and idealistic) to remind her that there is another way. And that Rhaenys is more than capable of picking that way: she can fight.

Anyway, those are my thoughts. Inbox open if you agree or disagree. I love talking about this sort of a thing.

#house of the dragon #rhaenys targaryen #hotd meta #bad meta #<- this tag is ironic but now habitual for me to sort my posts x #but this post was clawing its way out of me

[anarchic-miscellany]

Reading "One Piece" for the first time, Part 5: So, pretty early on (about the time a murder clown nuked a village) I realised that escalation was basically a crapshoot in this series, and honestly one of its charms thus far. Now the Idiot, the Himbo, the Cartographer with a Brain Cell and Meme in Progress Usopp are chilling at this floating fish restaurant. The Giga Chad Chef they met who kicked an entitled Karen in the face has now given free food to a pirate in need, because he's a pretty stand up guy. Nice touch honestly. But now a man made of guns has arrived and declared war on the restaurant because he wants the logbook of the elderly chef who runs it (and has a pegleg, honestly I am surprised at the restraint in waiting this long for a peg leg on the author's part, though I am surprised also that it doesn't have a shotgun in it or an interdimensional portal to the food dimension, or something) so he can cross "The Grand Line" after a fuck load of his crew got their shit pushed in out there. Naturally the restaurant and old man want him to shove it, so a fight ensues. I like the wholesome army of chefs who cannot work elsewhere and will defend this place until death, it's becoming a theme. This villain is kind of meh, especially after the Cat Guy in the last volume, and he keeps doing that thing of shooting his own dudes in the face which... okay man, great tactic. Still, we get to see the Giga Chad (I think he's going to be my favourite) roundhouse spiral kick a bunch of dudes and that's honestly kind of cool. The Cartographer with a Brain Cell has pissed off with their ship and loot, which I should really have seen coming, but in my defence I was distracted by the chef pirate battle and the arrival of... I'll get to you... I'm looking forward to them confronting her and getting their stuff back, I mean: they literally only just got this thing! Anyway, the fight is fun, kinetic, vast, frantic, it's the first one which really busts free and does its own thing and isn't merely "Dragon Ball Z" showdowns (RIP Toriyama, King) between two guys in fields. But then this fucking guy arrives. "Dracule Mihawk", the man who cuts a ship in half. You can tell this series was started in the 90s, because he is cringe incarnate, he is the edgelord anime stereotype of a badass, spoken of like a whispering nightmare of death upon the wind. And honestly I find him super dull, super cliched and just not worth my time at all. Naturally he ends up stabbing the Himbo with only a small dagger and is going to be his nemesis for the series. I appreciate them bringing in a character who will be a recurring, soon to overcome villain, but for fuck's sake, can it be literally anyone else? I'll take that Morgan guy over him. I'll take the fucking Lion Tamer. But no, we get this towering inferno of cringe. Also, Usopp doesn't really have anything to do here, shame. Anyway, now they're battling a man made of bin lids who calls himself "Pearl". Sure.

#One Piece #monkey d. luffy #Usopp #Meme in Progress #Roronoa Zoro #Nami #Sanji #Vinsmoke Sanji #Himbo #Giga Chad #Manga #Reading One Piece for the First Time

[pastanest]

A/N: so @otteropera as promised, here’s your tag for another one, but fair warning…it’s a lil angsty to begin with 👀

Jon Snow x she/her!reader

Someone’s Waiting For You

The sound of the bedroom door slamming jolts the young boy’s rigid form, his little hands balled into shaking fists at his sides as his eyes burn with tears. Unfortunately, the closed door does little to shield Jon Snow from the argument that started the day he was brought to Winterfell.

“You cannot expect me to treat your mistake as anything but!” Lady Catelyn Stark’s voice is pained and furious.

“It is not the boy’s fault, do not treat him as the one to blame!” Lord Eddard Stark jumps to his son’s defence, though even that is a rarity. 

Little fists still shaking at his sides, the young boy marches over to his bed and all but throws himself into it, burying his head under the furs to try and muffle the voices that continue to battle each other beyond his bedroom walls. Despite having not long past his sixth name day, Jon Snow is so accustomed to this exact situation that his tears do not fall, they refuse in a great act of defiance. Lady Catelyn will not get the satisfaction of besting him, not this night. All it would take was the smallest wrongdoing on Jon’s part, on a day when Catelyn was more irritated than she normally would be by the mere breaths that passed his lips, and she would disgrace his very existence. He knows he has not done something that was wrong enough to deserve a verbal onslaught as harsh as this one, his father reassures him of that, but that does not make it easier for a little boy to understand.

Only when Jon can no longer hear the angered voices of his father and the mother he can never have, does he lift his head from beneath his furs and kick his legs until they hang off of the side of the bed, dangling in the air because he is not quite tall enough to reach the floor just yet. Stepping down onto the cold stone, Jon takes the few slow steps necessary to reach his bedroom window. It is too late for any of the townsfolk to still be bustling outside, Winterfell has descended into a peaceful rest, nobody else disturbed by the feud that lives within his family, because of him, he feels. Staring up at the stars, little Jon is certain that such bright, wonderful and out of reach things simply must be the Gods, that must be where they sit. On their glistening thrones, watching over the rest of the world below. Jon wishes he could join them, he wonders how much quieter the world must seem from up there.

“I…do not wish to disturb you, Gods, but…” Jon begins, his voice timid, shaky even, and barely above a whisper in volume. The Gods must be able to hear him, he thinks, they can hear everything. He nods to himself, dark curls bouncing lightly on top of his head as he continues. “I understand why my namesake makes Lady Stark so upset. I have tried to be a good son to her, but she does not want me, much like my real mother, I think…” The little boy feels a lump rising in his throat, but he swallows it. “I know that you make everything and everyone, and I know that you have a reason for it…I was curious if you could tell me why you made me, because I don't think anyone else truly wants me here. My family would all be much happier if I had never come here, and I don't think it’s fair that they should all feel this way because of me…could you tell me what I can do to make it easier for them all to love me? Whatever it is, I swear I’ll do it, even if it means going away.” Jon’s voice catches in his throat, his eyes burning with tears again as he tries to blink them away. “I am sorry to disturb you, Gods. I’ll go now. I don't want to upset you all, too.” By the time he has finished speaking, he can no longer blink fast enough to hold his tears at bay. Waves crash behind his eyes, sending streams of tears down the young boy’s face and blurring the short journey back to his bed as he walks it. 

Crawling back under the furs, Jon buries his face in his pillow, sniffling into it and desperately bundling himself in his blankets as tightly as he can to feel even the tiniest amount of comfort, just enough to sleep. There are few boys that have cried themselves to sleep as many times as Jon Snow has by his sixth name day. 

If you ask him, Jon will tell you he does not dream. Even as young as he is, he will tell you that he closes his eyes, sees darkness, then opens them, and the sun has risen again. His siblings will tell fantastical tales of the adventures they have when they close their eyes and it is yet another way in which Jon Snow, regretfully, stands out amongst them. More than anything, he wishes he could be more like them.

And perhaps, tonight, he will be. 

As the little boy drifts away into the land of the unconscious, his eyes open, but he is somewhere else, somewhere colder. Coming to terms with his surroundings, Jon quite suddenly realizes his boots are far bigger than the ones he wears, and they are firmly planted on the floor while still attached to his legs as he sits on a bed that is not his. He is not a boy anymore. 

The door in front of him opens, and there stands a woman, the most beautiful he has ever seen, he knows it to be true even from the eyes of a man. And the smile on her face, he is surprised he does not look around to check that she is smiling at somebody else, but a part of him knows that it is for him, just for him. She approaches him with giddy steps until she’s standing between his legs and holding his face in her hands, staring into his soul with the kindest eyes he’s ever known. 

“Are you tired, my Lord?” Her voice is like a song, something about her tone playful.

Jon hears himself laugh lightly, his voice much older. “Exhausted. And you, my star?”

The giggle that passes her lips is lighter than air, a sound that lifts his very soul. “I am much the same, they left the place in quite a state today. I’m sorry I’m late.”

And he can see it, the tiredness behind her eyes that does not overshadow how happy she is to see him. Jon shakes his head. “There is no need to apologize, I live for each and every minute with you. Let us rest.”

She nods at him, but there is a shyness in her expression now, one that Jon never thought he could bring to a person. Crawling over him, she settles beneath the furs and strips free of her clothes, leaving only her underclothes, while Jon does the same. 

Meeting her under the furs, he instinctually rests his head in the crook of her neck as she lies on her back, wrapping her arms around him and holding him there. One of her hands gently combs through his curls, keeping them out of his face, while the other draws gentle patterns, writing silent and secret poems on his shoulder with her fingertips, while his arm wraps around her middle to hold her there. The scent of her brings a sense of calm that is so comforting it is entirely overwhelming, but he is safe, he knows it. Jon’s eyes close, against his wishes to stay awake and admire her for just a few more moments. 

“Will you sing me a song, my star?” He hears himself ask, already feeling waves of sleep beginning to swallow him. 

“Of course, my love.” She answers softly, before clearing her throat and starting to sing with what Jon can only describe as the voice of an angel. “Be brave, little one, make a wish for each sad little tear. Hold your head up, though no one is near, someone’s waiting for you.” And as Jon drifts away into the land of the unconscious, to a familiar darkness that is more comforting than it ever was before, the sound of her voice follows him there. 

“Don’t cry, little one, there’ll be a smile where a frown used to be. You’ll be part of the love that you see, someone’s waiting for you…”

When he opens his eyes again, Jon sits bolt upright in his bed, breathing heavily. The walls of his bedroom greet him, sunlight streaming in through the window he is so sure he had seen the stars from mere moments ago. Much to his surprise, his heart does not sink. Instead, a small smile makes its way onto the little boy’s face as he continues to look at the window, and the blue morning sky. 

“Thank you, Gods.” 

Of course, little Jon told his siblings and father of the dream; he was an excited little boy recounting the only dream he had ever remembered, and would ever go on to have. Though, after that dream, Jon had tried his absolute hardest to return to the dream of the woman, of being somewhere else, and with her, he did not dream of her, or anything else, again. He did not ask the Gods for help, he was far too grateful for the gift they had already given him. 

Naturally, Jon’s family did not take the dream as seriously as he did. The older he got, however, the more convinced he was that it was something more than what others dismissed it to be. 

Many nights, Jon lay awake, recalling every detail of the dream. While it reigned true that it was like a dream - from what his siblings had told him - in the way Jon did not have control over what he did or said, he could not shake the feeling that it was more like a memory. One that he was viewing, somehow, from the wrong side, from before it had happened. Though Jon did not know how or when it would happen, he knew in his heart that someday, it would, and that he would recite every word he remembered himself saying the first time he had heard it, just to live through the moment a second time. He does not know of anyone that has been lucky enough to do such a thing, and he will be damned if he misses such a wonderful thing. 

Logically, the more Jon thought about the dream, the more he focussed on specific details and how he could make those happen, perhaps bringing about the dream itself by doing so. For example, the fact that in his dream it had been much colder than his childhood bedroom, told him that either Winter was coming as his father had insisted and he would need to find a way to increase the speed of that process if it meant meeting you, or Jon needed to go further north. Leaning on the latter, Jon decided that journeying as far north as he could go would be a start. To guard the realms of men by becoming part of the Night’s Watch was an honoured decision from any Stark, and while there was a flaw in the technicalities of Jon not being allowed to take a wife or create any heirs, he decided he would cross that bridge when he came to it. If he did not feel closer to his dream at the wall, then the wall was his only means of getting even further north. 

With his purpose clear, Jon Snow joined the Night’s Watch and began his life guarding the realms of men. Through training the men he comes to know as brothers, Jon makes the first true friends he has ever had, and learns that despite his disadvantages as a bastard, it is nothing compared to the disadvantages of some of his new brothers, who have been wrongly cast to the Night’s Watch as punishment for crimes they did not commit, to defend the world from evil creatures, with none of the sword experience that Jon has had himself. The man that Jon regards as his truest friend is Samwell Tarly, who by all accounts is a coward, but a kind soul who was raised by the hatred of his father in the same way that Jon was raised by the hatred of the mother he could never call his. The two of them understand each other and form a close friendship, so close that eventually, Jon confesses his true reason for joining the Night’s Watch.

“You…You came all this way, and intend to swear an Oath, for a girl you saw in a dream when you were a boy?!” Sam’s voice is as shocked as his expression, but his words remain free of judgment. 

Jon nods, feeling far closer to the man he was in the dream. “She was not just a girl, she is the girl, the one I am supposed to find. That is why the Gods showed me a memory of my future.” 

Sam sighs, deep in thought, before he chuckles. “If it is to be, it is a romance to put every book I’ve read to shame!”

Jon laughs with his friend, a weight lifted from him as someone he truly trusts, who knows him and cares for him and does not see him as a burden for his namesake, believes him. Perhaps the Gods meant for him to take this very journey, to meet the people he has met along the way, too.

By the time Jon does take his Oath, and is granted the role of Lord Commander Mormont’s personal steward, he has settled into the life he has made for himself. And just a few days later, as another layer of snow falls around them, Jon and Sam descend the wall from their night on watch, to commotion at the gates of Castle Black. Lord Commander Mormont reaches the crowd of unsettled brothers, parting them effortlessly. 

“What has got you all acting like fools?!” He bellows.

“Th-There is a girl at the gate, Lord Commander.” One of the younger men speaks up.

“And are we frightened of girls? Tell me, would you rather it be a giant on the other side?!” Lord Commander Mormont rolls his eyes and shoves the men out of the way, ordering the gates be opened at once. 

A woman steps through them, her hair covered in snow, whole body trembling in the cold as she desperately hugs herself to maintain the little warmth her worn clothes offer her. And as Jon and Sam slow their steps, Jon Snow feels his entire world stop dead in its tracks, holding its breath with him, because it’s you. 

He doesn't hear anything, he cant, he can only watch as the Lord Commander orders a man away, that same man then returning with furs that the Lord Commander covers you with, wrapping an arm around you and leading you to his quarters. It isn't until Samwell Tarly steps in front of Jon and asks him - for the fourth time - if he’s alright, that Jon realizes he still hasn't recalled how to breathe. 

Sam’s face is the picture of sudden realization as his eyes widen and he grabs Jon’s shoulders. 

“By the Gods, it was her! Wasnt it!”

And the pair of them are running, they are sprinting to Lord Commander Mormont’s quarters and bursting through the door without announcing themselves, causing the Lord Commander to jump to his feet from behind his desk. 

“What is the meaning of this?” His frown is harsh, but he knows the men well enough to understand they must have a reason for barging into his otherwise private quarters. 

Unfortunately for Jon, he has not yet regained the ability to speak, though his eyes have acknowledged you are not in the room as he thought you would be. 

That only leaves Sam, glancing between Jon and the Lord Commander frantically before beginning to speak. “Lord Commander, th-that girl, she- Jon, you see, he had a vision, as a boy, of the very girl that has just walked through the gates, and- he doesn't know why, but he did, he has never seen her before today, apart from in that vision, but there must be a reason, so we would both like to vouch for her to stay, and-”

Lord Commander Mormont lifts his hand. “The woman came because her village was destroyed by wildlings and she has nowhere else to go. She will be staying here, where she will be protected, and has offered to work in our kitchen to earn her keep.” He looks to Jon. “Is what Sam says true, Jon? You had a vision of this girl?”

Finally, Jon returns to himself. “Yes, Sir, I did.”

Lord Commander Mormont considers this, before nodding to himself. “Very well. You will keep your Oath, you will find out the reason for this vision, and if you see fit, report your findings back to me. If you believe it holds more importance than simply to you, that is.”

Jon opens his mouth to speak, to express his gratitude, but the Lord Commander continues.

“Once she has been checked for wounds and sickness, she will be left to wash free of her journey here and will join us for supper. Until that time, continue with your duties.”

It is just a normal request, especially for a man of the Night’s Watch, yet Jon Snow cannot help feeling it is the most impossible thing he has ever been tasked with.

For the rest of the day, the sound of every door opening and closing sends Jon’s head turning in its direction, every room he enters, his eyes are searching for you, and he fails to hold conversations with any of his brothers, his mind too preoccupied by anxiety over your wellbeing, the fear of meeting you for the first time, what he would say to you, what he should say to you, how soon can he tell you that he has waited for you everyday since just after his sixth name day?

Naturally, Ser Alliser exposes the newly found clumsiness of Jon during his day’s training, reveling in every hit Jon takes, every swing missed. But no hit is strong enough to bring Jon back to where he stands, his mind has run away with you. 

For a split second, he sees your silhouette walking up a distant staircase, the side of your face cleaner than it had been the last time he had seen it, led by Lord Commander Mormont in the direction of the kitchen. And that single second takes a year to pass in Jon’s eyes.

Supper cannot come soon enough for Jon, or Sam, who is ravenous with curiosity more than he is for the evening’s meal, absolutely mesmerized by his dear friend’s sudden incapacity to think of anything else but you, and this leading Sam to conclude that you are simply fascinating. A large group of brothers of the Night's Watch all but stumble into the common room that connects to the kitchen, and for the first time since any of them arrived, they smell something incredible. 

You stand at the furthest wall, a steaming cauldron almost half your size in front of you, with high stacks of bowls on the table in front of you. The wideness of your eyes gives away the fear within you, but with Lord Commander Mormont at your side, you know the men will not dare harm you. 

“From now on, you will form an orderly queue here for your meals, and (Y/N) will serve them to you. None will lay a hand on her, or they will have me to answer to. Is that understood?” The Lord Commander’s voice is loud and stern, and every brother nods with an enthusiastic “AYE!” in response, already falling in line.

But Jon Snow does not move from the doorway, too lost in the vision of you as you timidly step forward, lifting a large ladle from the cauldron to spoon the first helping of stew to the first brother in line, who thanks you graciously, with such excitement that a small smile makes its way onto your face. So small it’s hardly there, but it’s enough to make Jon acutely aware of the irregularity of his own heart as it thrashes inside his chest, desperate to jump free of him and run to you. After all these years spent wondering, he finally knows your name, and he knows that his heart will sing it until it stops beating, and maybe even after.

“Come along Jon, you must meet her in the real world, now.” Sam encourages his best friend, bringing him back to reality with a pat on the back, gently pushing him forward. 

Sensing that his best friend may not be able to find the words, Samwell Tarly boldly steps in front of him just enough to ensure he is served first, so as to introduce themselves to you properly when it is time. 

Jon is trying to count the seconds, but the closer he gets to you, the more clearly he can hear you answer every grateful “Thank you” with the softest “You’re welcome” he has ever heard, and he loses track of everything entirely. 

Before long, the two men at the end of the line, have reached the front. There is the slightest tremor in Jon’s hands as Sam places a bowl in them, and Lord Commander Mormont rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, but he cant deny in his own mind it is quite endearing. 

“Hello, it’s so lovely to meet you, (Y/N), my name is Samwell Tarly, and this is Jon Snow.” Sam introduces himself and his best friend to you, keeping his voice quiet because he’s conscious of how frightening all of this must be for you, and the smile on your face is enough for him to know that you appreciate it.

At the mention of his name, your eyes move to Jon’s as you tip the ladle into his bowl, and his stomach drops. Something flutters within him, goosebumps erupting on his skin like a cold wind rushes past him, but his face is far too warm for that to be true.

“Hello Samwell, and hello Jon. It’s a pleasure. I hope you like the stew.” 

Jon cant believe it. After all these years, finally, he is hearing your voice say something new, something he hasnt replayed in his mind thousands of times already, though he is certain he will soon enough. 

Realising he still has not spoken, Sam nudges his best friend and chuckles in an effort to mask it, and Jon clears his throat. 

“Thank you, my Lady.” His voice is gruffer than he intended, but he tries his best to speak quietly, not wanting to give you any reason to fear him. Something in the way you look at him tells him that he couldn't possibly, even if he wanted to. 

Unable to convince himself he will not collapse if he looks at you for a second longer, Jon takes his leave, turning from you and making his way over to an empty table. It’s only when he hears the Lord Commander say “Perhaps you should go and join your brothers, now, Sam” that he realizes his dear friend has not joined him at the table, but he does not have the mental capacity to consider the implications of that at this time.

“Well, she is just wonderful.” Sam sighs as he sits down opposite Jon, who stares into his bowl of stew.

“I know.”

“And this stew! Tell me you’ve tried it Jon, by the Gods, she really is a dream!” He rambles, rapidly spooning mouthful after mouthful of stew in between words.

“I know.” Jon answers again. 

“She really is a dream come true for you, isn’t she? Personally, I don’t know how I’d cope if a woman I dreamt about as a boy, arrived at the gates and made stew like this. I’d certainly have to break my Oath and beg her to be my lady wife on the spot, I should think.” Sam sighs, shaking his head at the thought, making Jon laugh in disbelief, bringing a smile of victory to Sam’s face as he finally joins him in inhaling the stew, which truly is as good as to make a man consider breaking his Oath on the spot. 

The common room is loud with the approving hums of men enjoying their meals, then loud with their expressions of gratitude as they return their empty bowls to you and take their leave, some retiring for the night while others make their way to the top of the wall. 

When only the two of them remain at their table, Sam nods at Jon. “Now is your chance, the Lord Commander is gone. Talk to her, or spend the rest of the night wishing you had and suffer the agony of having to wait until tomorrow.” Sam shrugs, rising from his seat as Jon shakes his head at him, in yet another state of disbelief at his friend’s words. 

He hears Sam sing your praises for just a little too long as he hands his empty bowl back to you, bringing the quietest laugh from you, one that Jon knows he has to hear again or he will not make it through the night, and then Sam leaves to retire for the evening. That is where Jon should go, too, but he will not be able to live with himself if he leaves without at least trying to talk to you, first. 

With all the confidence he has been storing his entire life for this very moment, Jon stands, clutching his empty bowl in his hands as he turns to face you and makes his way over to you, trying not to let his steps falter when your eyes land on him again. 

A kind smile is on your face now, far more relaxed than you had been when he had first seen you in here, and he’s overjoyed at that. 

Clearing his throat, Jon tries to withhold the beaming grin that is fighting to break free as he stands in front of you. “It really was a lovely stew, (Y/N), thank you.” 

Your eyes avoid his, but your smile remains, and Jon sees it for the very first time: the shyness he never thought he would be able to bring to a person, until he dreamt of you. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I’m glad everyone seemed to like it!” You chuckle, a mixture of relief and bashfulness. 

Jon laughs with you. “Liked it? I’ve not been here long, but I’d be willing to bet there has never been a mealtime spent with so many of the brothers that happy all at once. Quite an achievement for your first day.” Despite having somewhat dreaded this moment his entire life, his greatest fear having evolved into the notion he would make a bad first impression on you, Jon is truly shocked at how quickly he feels completely at ease with you, like he really has known you all these years. 

“Thank you, that’s very kind. From what Sam was saying, you made quite the impression on your first day here, too.” 

Jon takes a moment to come to terms with the fact that he left his best friend alone to blabber about him to the girl of his dreams, and that there is a teasing tone to your voice, before he is able to respond.

“Gods, what did he say?” Jon sighs, and there it is, your laugh, this time louder, heartier, and he cant hold back his beaming grin anymore.

As you start to pile the empty bowls into the empty cauldron, Jon wordlessly joins you. “Oh, just that you’re the greatest swordsman that he’s ever seen, that you’re his dear friend, that you’ve always defended him, even when it meant the disapproval of others, the list goes on!”

Jon feels his cheeks flush pink. “Sorry about that, he means well.”

You chuckle at that. “Of course he does, you dont need to apologise, it was very sweet, really. Reassured me that you’re one of the good men here, anyway. I’d already guessed as much.”

With all the bowls piled into the cauldron, Jon crouches down to lift it, carrying it to the door that you hold open for him, leading to the kitchens. 

Lowering the cauldron onto the stone countertop, Jon helps you empty the bowls from it and begin washing them in a bucket of water, leaving them on the side to drain. 

“You had guessed I was a good man before speaking to Sam?” He asks, feeling as giddy as he did when he was a boy and had first woken up from the dream of you.

“With kind eyes like yours, how could I not?” You answer with a rhetorical question and another sweet smile, stunning Jon into silence. 

That silence settles into a comfortable and productive bubble, in which only the two of you exist, washing dishes and occasionally glancing at each other with shy smiles. 

Once the last bowl is placed on the side to drain, Jon speaks up. 

“I am…sorry, that you’ve had to come here.” He doesnt want to be insensitive or selfish by pretending that your being here is a completely happy occasion, when for you it was a last resort, and likely somewhere you never intended to end up.

As if to prove his thinking correct, you nod, your eyes much sadder than they had been, as though a mask you had not realized you had been holding in front of your face began to slip. 

“Thank you…for welcoming me, I know this is not the place for a girl.” 

Jon shakes his head. “It isn’t, but only because of some of the men here, and I won’t let them close enough to harm you. Ever. You belong here just as I do.”

Before Jon can process exactly what he has said, you turn to him with a confused frown on your face. “What do you mean?” 

And then, panic sets in. Jon’s eyes widen and dart around the room, scrambling for an explanation, but unable to find one, save for the truth. Meeting your eyes, already searching his for an explanation, he sighs in defeat. The least he can do is make it a little more subtle. 

“I can’t put it into words yet, but I have to ask that you trust me. I know that we’ve just met, that you dont really know me, but please, just trust that…” Jon takes a deep breath. “Someday, there’ll be a smile where a frown used to be. I swear it.”

He watches for any microscopic change to your expression, any sign that you recognise the words he’s said, but there is nothing. A second passes in an eternity, and Jon’s stomach drops to his feet, realizing how much more difficult this is going to be to tell you. And then, your frown drops, into wide, teary eyes. 

“H-How did you- My mother used to sing me that song, she made it up, how could you possibly-” You are in a panicked state of total disbelief and wonder, unable to piece together how this could possibly have happened, or how this day could become anymore overwhelming. 

“You sang it to me-”

Shaking your head, you interrupt him. “I’ve never sang that song, my mother did.”

Jon shakes his head back at you, knowing that now he has no choice. “My whole life, I have only dreamt once, I only had one dream, one night, when I was just a boy. I dreamt that I was a man, something I had not yet been, I was here, a place I had not set foot in, and you were, too, someone I had never seen before. And in that dream, you sang that song to me. I don't know how, or what it meant, but I’ve always known - and I know for certain now - that it was more than just a dream.”

He can see it in your eyes, the way you are clinging to every word, and to his amazement, you believe him. “How do you know for certain now?”

That answer requires a lot less thinking on Jon’s part.

“Because you’re real.” 

A single tear breaks the barricades that your wide eyes were desperate to uphold, and Jon’s heart fractures inside his chest, his expression almost one of pain as he takes a step towards you, but stops himself, not wanting to scare you. 

“What else happened in the dream, Jon?”

He tries to regain his composure. “We…held each other, shared a bed, and fell asleep.” There is so much more detail to it, Jon thinks to himself, the details he has spent his life daydreaming about in excruciating detail, but those details are for another day.

Taking a moment to consider all of this, you nod to yourself, seeming to decide something. 

“Then hold me, Jon Snow.”

His heart skips a beat inside his chest, spluttering frantically as his jaw drops. “A-Are you certain that is what you-”

Holding up a hand, you stop him. “Each day that I have spent walking here has been the worst of my life. All I have been able to think about is the family, the home, the life I have lost, and the fear of arriving here, to be surrounded by men, any of which could try to hurt or even kill me at any moment, or simply turn me away at the gates. These past days, I have spent feeling nothing but dread, and it is not until right now that I have remembered what having hope for the future feels like. If what you say is true, and the fact that I already trust you not to lie to me, tells me that it is, Jon…hold me like you’ve been waiting to do it your entire life.”

And that day, in that kitchen, Jon Snow meets you in two strides, to fulfil his one true duty, for the very first time. His arms wrap around you, his body releasing a breath that he feels like he's been holding ever since he sat up in his childhood bed in Winterfell that morning. Your arms cling to him, your face tucked away in his chest, and he rests his head on top of yours, tilting his head down and closing his eyes, breathing in the scent of you that he had not forgotten, even after all these years. The piece of him that he discovered in that dream that had been left with you, there, slots back into place like it had never left, and in a moment of soul shifting realization, he understands that his entire life had not been leading him back to that dream, it had been leading him to this very moment, with you. Safe in his arms, at long last, for the very first time.

Jon Snow has never been a man that has enjoyed following instructions. It has never come naturally to him, and has already landed him in several spots of trouble in his short time as a brother of the Night’s Watch so far. But that day, in that kitchen, Jon Snow knows that his one true duty, the one he was born to fulfil, is to hold you, whenever you ask, whenever you don't, and whenever you need, for any reason, or no reason at all.

#jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader #game of thrones #x reader #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #headcannon #Spotify

[the-ayakashi-in-me]

If Spring is here, can Winter be far behind?

Summary:

"I may not be chosen by God. But I have been chosen by fate."

The disappearance of Crown Prince Satoru Gojo, all but leaves the Empire in disarray. With no one else fit to inherit the throne, Princess Shiyori Gojo must now take on the challenge of finding her brother and being the Emperor chosen by fate.

Starring: SatoSugu, Nanami x OC, Naoya x OC and practically everyone from JJK.

Genre: ANGST, isekai au, drama, fluff (eventually), and whatever genre you use to feed your delusions.

Warnings: JJK is a warning on its own, toxic relationships, violence, a little gore, probable eventual smut, MANGA SPOILERS, established relationship, ANGST, mental illness, characters might be a little OOC. (Lemme know if I've missed anything)

A/N: Did I just re-emerge outta nowhere? Kinda. Did I finish my previous series? No. Will that stop me from starting a new one? Also no. Anyway, welcome to my new series, which is basically my delulu isekai version of JJK where everyone is happy and more importantly ALIVE. As always constructive criticism is always welcome. And reblogs are highly appreciated.

 Series Masterlist:

Gloom

Yuta wondered if this was a funeral. Because it certainly didn’t feel like a coronation. What else could it be? In the empire’s defence, the citizens were all in mourning. The loss of their beloved Crown Prince had come as too much of a shock. No one could have ever foretold, that the preeminent Satoru Gojo would just altogether cease to exist one day. 

After all, he was the child of prophecy, the child of magnitude; that sanctified the Akutami Empire by just being born. The one, Goddess Utahime herself had endowed with greatness—the one drowning in quintessence.

Naturally, next to him, Princess Shiyori paled in comparison without a doubt. She had no unique gifts, no particular talents, no extraordinarity. Worst of all, she was a woman. The only thing she had going on for her, was that she was born into royalty. However, that too, along with everything else was attributed to her impartial luck. 

When someone like that, was suddenly proclaimed the next Emperor, anguish and opposition were all but expected. The whole kingdom was in protest. “She’s not strong enough. She’s not tall enough. She’s not man enough.” 

Yuta gracefully rolled his princely eyes. Of course, she wasn’t man enough. She was a woman, after all. And she was the most resilient woman, he had ever known. It was stupid, selfish and rude to expect her to be a man. But, how and where do you even begin to explain these sentiments to this brainwashed crowd? You can’t, simply because they won’t listen. 

But, Yuta wasn’t here for that today. He wasn’t here to sway the hearts of his people. He was here for his sister. This was her coronation now, her ascension. Yes, this coronation was meant for the Crown Prince, his questionably beloved teacher. But the Crown Prince was not around and someone must ascend the throne today.

Princess Shiyori, with tear-stained eyes, had pleaded with him to take on the role. “Even if you are an illegitimate child, our people will always have far more faith in you, than they will in me.” 

Yuta didn’t remember much that had transpired that day, after all the whole kingdom was set a buzz with the disappearance of the Crown Prince. He too had been a part of the search party. The tremendous exhaustion and anguish of losing someone precious had him reeling on his own two feet. 

However, even in that state, his conviction did not falter. “Yes. I know. But…I’m sorry Shiyori. I cannot bring myself to do it.”, and that tore down the walls he so carefully built while growing up in the palace. That day, he wept over the loss of a brother, a mentor and a friend. He wept over his incompetence, his disappointment, his selfishness, for it only burdened his venerated sister. That day he wept till he could weep no more, all the while, Princess Shiyori held him together in her gentle and warm embrace. 

“I’m sorry I asked you to do something so arduous. I won’t ask again.”

“No…I’m sorry for putting you in a quandary.”

That day, Yuta mourned a lot of things. But not even for a moment did he grieve over the fate of the empire. After watching that kind smile spread over her face that day, he knew the empire was in good hands. For he knew, Shiyori Gojo was far more capable than he and him combined.

Fifty-seven years. That’s how long High Priest Gakuganji had been in service of the great Utahime. All this time, and yet he was farther than ever, in comprehending the divine. He had previously crowned two monarchs. Today he was supposed to crown the Crown Prince. But, “Utahime works in mysterious ways, your Majesty.” he attempted to console the previous Emperor. 

However, there is little that can console a father mourning the loss of his oldest child. Not that he was the best father. No, he’d been too selfish for that. But he was always proud of his children. 

He was proud of Satoru, he had every chance to become like his father, but he didn’t. Every day he lived up to all the lofty standards the prophecy had burdened him with. He reigned victorious in the War of A Hundred Demons. He even took his illegitimate brother under his wing.  He was the empire’s hero, his ancestors’ pride.   

He was also proud of Yuta. Yes, his mother came from a humble background. And yes, he suffered an unsurmountable amount of grief at a very young age. However, once he was able to overcome that, he fit right in the palace. Honestly, when it came to royal etiquette, he left Satoru far behind. Truth, be told, the empire would be far from distraught if he were to become the Emperor. But, Yuta never wanted the throne. He was happy being appointed as the Viscount of Okkotsu.

And Shiyori, he was proud of her too, wasn't he? Satoru was eight when Shiyori was born. She was frail since birth. Born under a Heavenly Pact, her cursed mana was insanely high, however, as is with most pacts, her weak body wasn’t built to handle the power. She nearly died when she was ten, the first and last time she used her power. After that incident, both he and Satoru forbade her from using cursed mana. So she didn’t, she was home-schooled. To top it all she suffered from chronic respiratory illness. 

His majesty heaved a heavy sigh. No, he couldn’t remember a single instance where he was proud of his daughter. He was always worried, always apprehensive when it came to his middle child. Shiyori could topple over with a strong breeze, and yet (despite the two sturdy ones he had), Utahime deemed this child to be fit for the throne? Well, he could now empathize with his citizens.  

© to the-ayakashi-in-me. Please do not repost, copy, steal or translated without permission.

#jjk #jjk anime #jjk manga #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jjk nanami #jjk geto #jjk fushiguro #jjk sukuna #jjk fluff #satosugu #jjk x oc #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x oc #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[fallout-fucker]

Crows Of The Commonwealth

I was on CrowTok and it made me come up with an idea.

So, obviously a lot of the crows in the Commonwealth are made by the Institute, though I personally like to believe that there are still a lot of crows that are regular ones, too.

Crows are an incredibly smart species of bird, which makes sense as to why they're the ones the Institute use. To my memory, I don't think there are any other birds in the game. Again, I'd like to headcanon that they're not the only ones left but if only a few species of birds managed to survive the bombs and the aftermath, I wouldn't put it past crows to be one of those species due to that intelligence.

Crows are known for recognising people, which also works in favour of the Institute as to why they'd choose them specifically. If you are able to tell the difference between individual crows, you'll be less likely to question if a specific one if following you if you are aware they likely recognise you.

However, they're also known to bring gifts and trinkets if treated right, or actually attack people who don't. And they remember faces. I don't get the impression that the Institute treats them too kindly if they don't even consider Gen 3 Synths as people, who are literally created with technology and human biology/DNA.

If we imagine that the Institute Crows work like Synths do, then that means that they are also able to become independent like Synths can. We know they have the level of intelligence, more so than another species of bird, to perhaps reach that level of independence. That's exactly why the Institute picked them. Wouldn't it be ironic if that became part of the Institute's downfall.

So imagine a Sole Survivor, fresh out of the Vault, scared and cold on their first few nights. Hungry, tired, likely sick, grieving. Alone. They have Dogmeat. They have themselves. A few strangers they saved. Nothing else.

They're trying their best one night to settle. They've only been unfrozen for a few days by now, but have yet to leave Sanctuary. They chose to stay for a couple days to prepare for their long journey ahead, and rebuild their home so they had somewhere to go back to. Preston has taught them basics self defence and survival, Sturges has helped them temporarily fix the holes in their walls. They're not close to these strangers yet, but there's a small comfort in knowing there's still people, and people nearby to run to if anything not friendly comes knocking on their door.

They're picking at a 200 year old box of stale cereal, not able to stomach the taste just yet. In the end, they end up leaving it in a bowl for Dogmeat to have, preferring to sleep, hunger be damned. They sleep on the floor that used to hold the dinning table, not ready to sleep in the now-too-empty bedrooms.

By morning, their sleep is interrupted. Not by the cold October air that their thin, makeshift blanket- That doubles as their coat during the day- barley keeps away. Not by the sunlight that seeps in by the broken shards of class where the window used to be. Not by drops of rain that fall through the cracks in the ceiling. Not even by Dogmeat licking then awake, like he did yesterday morning. This time it's the sound of pecking and squawking that has Sole prying their eyes open.

A small group of grows picking at the bowl of cereal. They must've gotten in through what once was the window, or literally any of the holes of missing metal panels scattered throughout the building. Sole barely has it in them to care. They know they shouldn't waste food that could've gone to them or their new furry friend, but they truly cannot bring it in them to mind. They wonder if the birds have a hard time finding food, too, and decide it might not be a waste at all.

They sit up. A few of the crows fly up onto the windowsill at their movements, one stays enjoying their breakfast, unfazed. Sole waits, sitting still until the birds realise they have no intention of harming them. They glide back down onto the floor, going back to eating.

After a few moments, the crow that stayed perks his head up, neck twitching into an angle that lets him look at Sole. He hops over, stopping just before he reaches their lap. Sole raises their hand, thumb and index finger moving slowly until they land on its neck. His feathers bristle under Sole's pets, his feet dancing happily beneath him. The other crows finish their breakfast. Salem, Sole decides to call him, joins his friends who hop back onto the windowsill. They fly off. He turns his head to the side, a beady eye looking at Sole again. He squawks at them before flying off to join the others.

Sole spends the rest of their day taking metal panels from some of the completely collapsed houses to fix the holes in their walls. They're able to find paint at the old Red Rocket down the road when looking for more equipped tools. Repainting isn't exactly their priority right now, just making sure the house will be fit to stand against the weather, and for when it gets colder in the next few months. The paint will be useful when they get to the stage of being able to consider making it look presentable, however. Unfortunately, the only paintbrush they find is snapped in half. They toss it in frustration. Less so because of the brush itself, and more so because Sole has a lot of anger built up from the events of the last few days that they have no other outlet for.

They end up going home when the sun starts to set, having avoided the empty tomb of memories for as long as possible. It wasn't safe to be out so close to dark.

When they set down their tolls by the door, something on the kitchen counter catches their eye.

Upon inspection, they realise it's an intact paintbrush.

Their confusion lasts barely five seconds, as they hear a familiar squawk. Hoping on the windowsill is Salem. His eyes study Sole. He's waiting. Sole smiles, pulling open the duffle bag they'd taken on their supply run. They pull out two wild mutfruits, which they'd harvested from bushes near the station. Sole cuts them into smaller pieces, before tossing them gently into the grass of their back garden from the car porch. Salem glides to the pieces, now satisfied in knowing that Sole approved of and appreciated his gift. Sole looks up to the trees that border their garden where other crows have started to also descend from to join in on the food offering. Apparently, there's a lot more in this group than what Sole had assumed from the smaller one earlier. About twenty feathered creatures dance about on branches decorated by orange and brown leaves or nibble at the mutfruit in the grass.

Salem flies over once he's had his fill, taking a seat on Sole's shoulder. His friends also begin hopping over gradually, and Sole ends up sitting down to welcome them and pet their small heads. Dogmeat also seems to love the attention, or perhaps just the warmth that radiates from Sole's body as he curls up next to them. Every so often, one of them drops a trinket into Sole's lap as they snuggle into them. A random screw, some gears, even some bottlecaps. Bits and bobs that a few days ago, Sole would've considered mostly junk, even if they'd still been appreciative, but everything now is useful. They even drop a few things by Dogmeat's snout, who sniffs them, tail wagging. Sole doesn't think Salem appreciates the happy licks Dogmeat gives him, though.

Regardless, Sole breathes out slowly, deeply, as they take in the sunset and birdsong before them. It's the first time they've honestly felt any peace since leaving that godforsaken Vault.

Sole makes a mental note to redesign the kitchen window when they get around to fixing it so that it'll be able to open widely. They also begin thinking about designs for birdhouses, feeders, and small fountains.

It's safe to say Sole feels slightly better than they did when they went to bed last night.

They feel less alone.

For some reason, as Salem nestles into their lap, against their stomach, a small pressure builds in their gut. They can't quite shake the instinct, the thought that comes with it. The feeling that Salem feels less alone now, too.

#Aka a story where Sole unintentionally befriends the Institute crows and teaches them actual love #To the point where they start to also rebel against their creators. Sole starts finding crows that have clawed out their own eyes #Or that have scratched chunks (Chips and cameras) out of their necks and turns Sanctuary into. Well. A Crow Sanctuary #Sole accidentally trains a crow army to be loyal to them #They start getting to the point where crows start being able to send messages like pigeons for the Minutemen and Railroad #Deacon hated the idea at first and when he found out Sole was basically housing Institute spies almost had a heart attack #Then he got on board when he realised the crows were also starting to runaway from the Institute #Salem likes to prank Deacon #They even steal Institute tech so their human friends can study it :) #Who needs to train Deathclaws when you have an army of birds that are already trained in spy work #And who you can use to find Synth agents because they recognise their faces and WILL attack them on sight #Who needs the Mysterious Stranger when every bird in the 'Wealth will swoop in to peck and claw at a raider's face when you're outnumbered #Sole being the King/Queen/Master of crows goes hard ngl #Their animal friend perk is maxed out. They DO also raise a baby Deathclaw just because they can #I might make a fic that includes this idea tbh because I love it #And I have been wanting to make a realistic fic about what it would be like for Sole. Especially in the early days. #Sole Survivor #Salem The Crow #Dogmeat #Deacon #Fallout #Fallout 4

[startanewdream]

Hey, I was rereading eyes glistening fics (again) and taught if i could ask you for a lily-harry moment. Especially after Harry sees Ginny with Dean and realizes his feelings for Ginny.

"rereading" always makes me so happy! I'm so glad you enjoyed these fics!

Now, I can't exactly fit a Lily&Harry moment there for plot-canonish-reasons (and Lily and Harry discuss his feelings for Ginny at other points), but here's something that could have happen if we can just pretend Lily is a professor at Hogwarts during HBP.

***

Right. Left. Down the hall until another left.

A distant corner of his mind knows the path to the Common Room, something for which Harry will be grateful later; there aren’t any coherent thoughts in his mind at this moment—what if he punches Dean—no, forget Dean, what if he is the one kissing him Ginny instead—what if instead of Ron finding Ginny and Dean, he would find Ginny and Harry locked together, lips crashing in a glorious kiss—no, he doesn’t want to consider Ron in that hall at all, let the tapestry shut down so there is only him and Ginny—

“Harry!”

He jumps, heart racing for another reason now; his hand is almost grabbing his wand—for defence or attack, Harry isn’t sure—when he realises it wasn’t Ron that yelled his name.

Professor Potter joins them, which is only slightly better. “You two are nearly breaking curfew—” She pauses. Ron is walking past her without any glance, his mind clearly away, turning to the stairs that leads to the Common Room. “Is everything okay?” She asks, concerned now.

Harry nods quietly, though he never felt before things were less okay; his mum doesn’t seem impressed.

“Are you sure? Are you two fighting?”

That unlocks Harry’s tongue, panic filling him. 

 “Why? Does it look like Ron is mad at me?”

Ron can’t know, can he? He doesn’t read minds, he couldn’t have glanced at Harry’s face and known which thoughts were harbouring inside his mind, very colourful images of Ginny— 

His mother’s eyes wide, alarmed. “No, he looks mad with the world. Harry—are you two in trouble?”

Warm brown eyes flash in his mind; the shape of a smirk on Ginny’s lips; her hair whipping the air as she turns around. “No.”

She doesn’t look convinced; Harry wishes he had learned to lie better.

“We just—” Just give her the truth, he orders himself. The plain truth without any of the realisations that came with it. He tries to look unbothered. “We were coming back from practice and—we tumbled upon Ginny a-and Dean and they—you know.”

She sighs. “I bet Ron didn’t—oh.” Her gaze is fixated upon his face; Harry is sure none of his feelings are showing up there, but she is watching him with eyes that are too maternal and not at all Professor Lily Potter. “I see.”

“There is nothing to see,” he mumbles, but then his mother is already dropping any pretence of professionalism.

“Do you want to come to my quarters?” Lily offers kindly. “We can share some biscuits, perhaps a tea and we can talk—”

“Professor—I’m not discussing feelings with you.”

“I thought you said there was nothing to see?”

“I—” She just blinks calmly, and then a lost part of his mind has a sudden realisation. “You are not surprised.”

“What?”

“You—Ginny—you already knew how I feel.” That cannot be right. Until fifteen minutes ago, Harry was sure that all his feelings for Ginny were very brotherly, he had not considered anything, except—his mind had been exceptionally quick to draw all those scenarios with her, almost as if they were already drafted in a dream that he didn’t remember having, only that he woke up the next morning in an excellent humour…

His mum would look apologetic if her eyes weren’t betraying her amusement. “Harry…”

“No.”

“Yes. For quite a while now.”

“Then—” He thinks about all the time he and Ginny spent together over the summer; his face flushes with the deep implications of how stupid he must have looked, but then he reaches for a way out. “It couldn’t be that obvious, or else… I am alive.”

If any of these thoughts living rent free on his mind had been so clear, Ron would have skinned him alive; that kiss they had just witnessed between Ginny and Dean was looking more and more tamer each time Harry rebuilt that scenario in his mind.

His mum looks confused. “Why wouldn’t you be? It’s not a disease, it won’t kill you.”

“If it were a disease, you would have a potion for it.”

Her lips break in a smirk. “If there was a potion—would you take it?”

The right answer, Harry is sure, is yes. No more conflict. Then he wouldn’t betray anyone, then there would be no reason for him and Ginny to snuck behind a tapestry, hands linked, sharing a giggle over their smartness; he wouldn’t get closer, place strands of her hair behind her shoulder, and she definitely wouldn’t tilt her head, wouldn’t kiss him…

“I guess not,” his mother says, once again reading him easily. She pats his shoulder. “Go to bed, Harry. Things will look brighter in the morning.”

Harry doubts it. In the morning he will still have feelings for his best friend’s sister, who is currently dating someone else. No, he needs to move on, or else just bury deep his feelings for Ginny — could he do it? Just turn off that I-fancy-her button that had been quietly beeping in the back of his mind until its alarm rang gloriously that night, absolutely refusing to crawl back to the depths of his ignorance?

He can’t, and this just puts him in the worst dilemma ever.

And also, how old is too old to cry on your mother’s shoulder?

“Mum,” he begins, one of those few times where he calls her like that at school. “That offer of biscuits and tea is still up?”

She hugs him, and Harry decides he will never be too old for it. “Of course.”

#Harry and Lily #Jily Lives AU #Hinny #Harry needs a hug #and this time someone hugs him

[justyouraverage-simp]

oh darling// remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader (romantic) maruaders x reader (platonic)

warnings: a little angst, talks of blood and death

summary: y/n is terrified of werewolves has been for as long as she can remember, remus is a werewolf has been for as long as he can remember but what happens when they begin dating and their secrets come out

notes: this is not my plot, it belongs to @/nevillescourage on wattpad, i do have permission to write this

Y/N and Remus had been dating for the past year and they had the ideal relationship. They were extremely in love with each other and they got on with each other's friends. Although everything was perfect for them, they both had a secret. Y/N was terrified of werewolves and Remus was a werewolf. 

Her phobia came for her childhood after she watched her older brother be attacked and killed by a werewolf called Fenrir Greyback. Fenrir was originally heading towards Y/N but her brother pulled Fenrir’s attention away from his little sister and onto himself. Y/N saw the whole thing, she tried to pull her eyes away from it as the tears filled her eyes and fear washed over her. If it wasn’t for her mother Y/N probably wouldn’t be here today. 

Remus was unaware of the phobia mainly because she didn’t want to make him think she was weak or fragile. 

Of course Y/N knows not all werewolves are like Fenrir. She knows that they cannot help it and that the majority of them don’t attack innocent people but she cannot help but be constantly reminded of her brother’s lifeless body laying on the carpet of their bedroom, that image will stay with her for the rest of her life.

 -

Y/N was in her defence against the dark arts class with Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, Lily and Marlene. The subject boggarts. Y/N was 90% sure that her boggart would be her brother’s body, there was nothing else that it could be. Lily and Marlene had just gone and now it was Y/Ns turn as she stepped up to the trunk that contained the boggart she let out a shaky breath and held her wand out as it began to change to her worst fear and that’s when she saw him. Her brother’s body laid there as the blood split out of him slowly with Fenrir bent over him snarling. Every breath that Y/N had was sucked out of her body and she was frozen, her eye contact gripped to the image in front of her once again. Their teacher quickly stepped in front of Y/N and got rid of the boggart and before anyone could do or say anything Y/N turned on her heels and left the classroom. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life, everyone had seen it. If she wasn’t seen as weak before she definitely was now.

In the classroom Remus was frozen, his girlfriend's worst fear was him. Well not him directly but werewolves, she was scared of the other half of him. 

“Remus, you have to go after her” James said to him. 

“James are you joking, did you not just see that? She’s scared of me” Remus said whisper yelling. 

“Not you mate, you and moony are two separate people” Peter said. 

“He’s right Remus, I get why your scared but she is too. Right now I think you need each other” Lily said. 

Suddenly Remus felt a hads hit him round the back of his head, “Pull yourself together Rem, your girlfriend is upset and scared if you aren’t there for her who will” Sirius said to him. Remus hated to admit it but he knew Sirius was right and he knew he needed to be there for her even if he was absolutely terrified for what the future held for them.

-

It had been a week since the boggart incident and Remus and Y/N’s relationship was struggling. Remus was torn; he didn't know what to do and this caused his brain to slowly self-destruct. He saw Y/N slowly pull away from him and it scared him. What if she worked out the truth? What if she is actually scared of werewolves? What he didn’t realise was that Y/N was having the exact thoughts. She began to pull away because she thought Remus was embarrassed by her because he was spending less time with her, avoiding eye contact and avoiding physical contact between each other. 

“I don’t even know you anymore Remus” Y/N said, raising her voice slightly, “I can’t do this anymore if I’m the only one putting in the effort. A relationship is a two way street not a one way” 

“Don’t you think I know that Y/N, I’m trying I really am but I feel like you don’t even want to be around me anymore”

“Of course I want to be around you but ever since the boggart lesson, I feel like you would do anything to not have to be near me. Just tell me what I did, please” Y/N said desperately. 

“Y/N if I tell you, you would hate me forever. I would lose you and I can’t lose you. I just wouldn’t cope”

“Just tell me because quite honestly at the minute whether you tell me or not you might just lose me either way”

“No Y/N you don’t- you don’t mean that. We can get through this, I promise I’ll do better”

“Remus, I will always love you but I can’t do this anymore” Y/N said pointing between her and Remus, “Not if it’s built on lies” She says as she turns on her heels and walks towards the door. 

“I’m a fucking werewolf Y/N, your dating your worst fear” Remus shouted, hoping it might just bring her back, but deep down he knew. He knew he had just lost the love of his life for good.

“Oh my god…” Y?n said as she stopped dead in her tracks “I- I can’t do this” 

Remus watched as she ran out the room once again but he knew this time he shouldn’t follow her. 

-

It had been just under a month since the argument and although the words we are done never left either of their booths both Y/N and Remus just assumed that they were over, like it was an unspoken agreement. 

In that time almost every student and staff member had noticed the two of them being distant with each other and it was something they were not used to. Ever since the two had started at Hogwarts they both had been attached at the hip so this was something no one had really seen. 

James, Peter and Sirius were lost. They had basically lost Remus, he wasn’t the same since the argument. He was quieter and noticeably less involved in the group. He just wasn’t Moony without her. They had also lost their biggest supporter Y/N was important to the group although she wasn’t always with them she would spend a lot of time with them and they grew closer to each other. Sirius was the one that would make her realise she was being stupid if she was overthinking or if she doubted herself. James was the listener, he was always there just to let her rant. Lastly there is Peter, he was like the little brother he always knew how to make her laugh and put a smile on her face. She really needed them but they were originally Remus’ friends first and she could tell they were happy without her. Remus would occasionally look over at Y/N to check she was okay, even if they weren’t together he would be protective over her, and he hated what he saw. She was perfectly happy, like nothing had happened. If only they both knew it was all a show, a mask to hide how they really felt.

Ever since the argument Y/N had spent more time in her dorm but now she began to feel like she was suffocating everytime she stepped in there, she was sick of seeing the same 4 walls. So she decided to go and sit on the hill that led towards the Whomping Willow as she still had an hour until curfew, what she failed to realise was that it was a full moon and she wasn’t the only one nearby.

-

Y/N had been sat for around 15 minutes now and was deep into her book when she heard a branch snap from behind her. She thought nothing of it until it happened again. She turned around but saw nothing but that’s when she heard a low growl. As she looked into the clearing she squinted to try and see what was in there as fear began to run through her veins. That’s when she saw it, it was a werewolf. 

It’s ears pinned back and brows were furrowed, it’s dark hair glowed in the moonlight. She cursed herself for not noticing the full moon. The wolf began to walk closer to her, she quickly stood up forgetting she was on the edge of the hill and fell to the ground. The werewolf took its shot as Y/N grunted as she hit the floor although she quickly sat up. She saw the wolf jump over towards her and she screamed as the memories of her brother flashed through her mind. 

It may seem stupid to scream in that moment but that one scream not only saved her life but also brought her back to someone very special. 

What Y/N was unaware of was that there was a group of animals not too far away consisting of a werewolf, stag, dog and rat, which sat on the top of the stag’s head.

Due to the werewolf having better hearing than the others, his ears twitched and his head shot up. He didn’t know why but immediately he ran to the scream, leaving the others confused. Once the second werewolf got to Y/N he immediately jumped into the side of the other wolf knocking him to the ground, once they shook off the impact they began circling and snarling at each other. 

A few seconds later the dog, stag and rat arrived at the scene and protectively stood in front of Y/N in case something went wrong although the second werewolf managed to fight off and scare the first and they all watched as it ran off into the darkness. The second werewolf walked towards Y/N and the stag grew half an inch although the werewolf didn’t even bat an eyelid and just walked around him, Y/N was sat with her legs laid straight in front of her catching her breath as the wolf came over, she looked it dead in the eyes and something about it felt familiar and for the first time in that night she felt safe. The wolf walked slowly closer to her and lays down beside her resting his head by her knees as soon as he was comfortable he let out a deep breath. 

Y/N turned to where the dog, stag and rat were but instead was greeted by James, Sirius and Peter.

“Where did they go and where the hell did you come from?” Y/N said confused. 

“You're looking at them” James said.

“I don’t get it, I have a bloody werewolf taking a nap on my lap and now you three are telling me you're a dog, stag and rat” Y/N said as her eyes widened realising the reality of the situation, “Oh my god I have a werewolf on my lap”. Y/N quickly jumped out, the wolf’s head hitting the ground hard, she quickly ran to the side of Sirius.

“Relax love, it's just Remus” Sirius said, holding her wrists. 

“Sirius don’t be ridiculous, that’s not Remus” Y/N said pointing at the wolf. 

“Yes it is, when have I ever lied to you?” Sirius asked “Actually you know what don’t answer that” 

“Y/N I promise that’s Remus” Peter said. Y/N looked over at the wolf that was just staring at her. Its coat was a mousey brown colour, the same colour as Remus’ hair and it had the same look in its eyes that Remus had every time she looked at him.

“Oh my god”

-

It was the next morning and Remus felt tired and achy except it was nowhere near as bad as normal after a full moon. As he began to come back around he felt someone holding his hand. He looked over and saw her. Y/N was lightly stroking his hand with his thumb and Remus was beyond confused before the moon him and Y/N weren’t even talking so why is she now by his bedside. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Y/N said softly with a gentle smile. Had it been the wolf this whole time? Did it create that whole situation just to torment Remus even more than it already does?

“I um- I’m okay” Remus said, stuttering a little. 

“That’s good, the boys have gone to breakfast but they should be back soon”

“Hey, you're awake” Sirius said loudly as they walked into the hospital wing. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear” Y/N said looking towards Sirius

“You love me Y/N and we all know it”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” Y/N smiled at him. 

“As much as I could watch you two bicker  all day, Y/N go to breakfast” James said

“I’m okay thank you though” 

“It wasn’t a question, we agreed we went and you stayed, now you go and we stay” James said as Y/N looked towards Remus.

“Go I’ll still be here when you get back” Remus said nodding his head towards the door. 

“Okay” she said hesitantly although she did get up and leave to go and get some breakfast. 

“One of you explain what the hell happened last night” Remus said as soon as he knew Y/N was out of ear shot.

After James told Remus the events of last night, Remus was shocked, she saw him as a werewolf and she was still here this morning. 

“I didn’t hurt her did I?” Remus said although he was scared to know the answer. 

“Oh god no, we’ve never seen you like that with anyone. It was like we were just watching you with her honestly” James said. 

Remus scoffed “Even as moony she’s able to make me soft”

“Remus, you're the softest person I know, you fold your socks for merlin's sake” Sirius said chuckingly. 

After 10 minutes Y/N came back and sat with the boys for a bit and she was happy to finally feel comfortable again, she was surrounded by the people that loved her the most. Although her fear of werewolves was still slightly there, she knew she would always be safe because Remus would get himself killed before anyone even touched her.

notes: i actually really like this one and it has brought me back into my harry potter phase a little so there should be some harry potter fics coming soon, maybe one with a ginger twin

#remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #marauders #remus x y/n #marauders x y/n #remus x reader #remus lupin fluff #marauders fluff #remus lupin angst

[womanofwords]

Costume Party Rules

"For the last time, A, this isn't a costume party," B sighed, as A debuted their Sherlock Holmes costume. "We don't do costumes."

"But I do," A said, deflating.

"Well, don't do it at the party. It's considered unprofessional," B said. C walked in, saw A dressed as Sherlock Holmes and laughed hysterically.

"A, you idiot!" C laughed. A drooped as C cackled and B offered no defence. "B, please don't tell me this loser is coming to our party. That-" they jerked their head in A's direction, "-cannot be your friend that you were talking about bringing."

A bristled and blinked back tears as their eyes burned. "No, I'm not," they said. "B was . . . talking about a different friend."

"Thank goodness," C sighed, smirking as A adjusted their deerstalker hat. "I don't want dorks in costumes invading our party. I make sure it's exclusive for a reason, you know."

"I get it. I'll just go to some other party, I guess," A said, walking away. Once they were out of C's sight, A called up D and told them about the encounter.

"It was horrible," A bawled. "C was making fun of my Sherlock Holmes costume and B didn't say anything in my defence! They didn't stick up for me at all and C just smirked at me. They were talking about how they make their party exclusive for a reason and they don't want dorks in costumes invading their party."

"You poor thing," D sighed. "Where's C's party taking place?" A told them, and D grinned. "This is going to be fun."

(PAUSE)

C was happily conversing with more people when they heard wild whooping from the house on the end of the street. "What the hell is that noise?" B asked.

C peered out of the window and sneered. "Losers in costumes," C said. "Nobody important. Ignore them."

"Is that a campfire?" someone said. C looked, and they had a campfire going, with people happily roasting marshmallows over it and making s'mores. "Cool!"

"Not cool!" C snapped, making them shrink back. "Look at them, being so embarrassing in public. They're adults in costumes! Costumes look dumb on anybody, but especially adults! Why would you want anything to do with . . . that?"

People went back to partying, but then more cheering came from the party of costume-wearing people. "Dude, since when could they juggle fire?" someone asked. More people rushed to the windows to look, and there really was someone juggling fire. People oohed and aahed as the balls of flame went up and down. There was also a literal bouncy castle.

"Hey! Remember where you are!" C snapped, sweating nervously as people began to trickle out of their party and towards the more fun costume party. Eventually, they were all alone. Their party had been abandoned, and everyone had gone to the party run by the people in costumes, except for B. This was too far.

A and D were handing out more cups of gingerbread latte and hot chocolate, they heard a knock on the door. When A opened it, C was standing there, and they looked enraged.

"A, did you really have to take things this far?" C snapped. "Having your own party so you could upstage me? You've stolen everyone from my party!"

"You said you didn't want people in Halloween costumes in your party," A said. "And we didn't ask them or anything. They just came here once they had a decent costume."

"Hey, dude, get lost," D snapped, looming over A. "You're spoiling things for everyone else."

"I just don't get it. How are these-" C gestured towards the party, who were now eagerly listening in, "-losers, having a better party here than mine was?"

"You're uptight and they're not!" someone yelled, and ripples of laughter made their way outwards.

"We don't want uptight elitists invading our party. Things are just fine the way they are," D said. The door slammed in their face, and C stood there, indignant. Inside the house, people cheered.

C couldn't tell if the cheering was because they wouldn't be coming in, or because of something else.

#creative writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #writers #writerscommunity #heroes and villains #superheroes #halloween costumes #halloween 2023

[thesherrinfordfacility]

Longwinded anon from yesterday again:) The thing about Crowley's self-contradictory narratives about his Fall, which are a warning that the viewer/reader should PROCEED WITH CAUTION, is that Gaiman writes all of them in ways that don't just diminish Crowley's responsibility, but also diminish just whom he was "hanging out" with. At the end of the day, there is nothing in canon or in Word of God *cough* to suggest that Lucifer & co. are anything other than evil according to our understanding of the term. God is also horrible--the novel and the series both take the bog-standard theological position "God's ways cannot be reduced to human concepts of good and evil" and push it to the logical conclusion--but "Lucy and the boys" are not an improvement, even though Crowley conceals that by talking about them as though they're random teenagers hanging out on the street corner getting up to random teenage mischief. (Insert my irritated rant here about the "God ships it!" trope in this fandom, which in the moral universe of the novel/series has horrific implications.) It's a revolt in which the revolutionary leaders are at best identical to the regime they're revolting against, and produce an outcome that's just as oppressive.

Crowley keeps trying to pretend that he didn't choose to do anything, but he's in a plot where free will means that it's paramount that you admit you have choices, make them, and then take responsibility for the results. Both the novel & the series explicitly come out and say this, in different ways, during the climax at the airfield. Crowley /chose/ to hang out with some terrible people, even though Crowley himself is not fundamentally terrible. He's just morally flawed like Aziraphale is (and Aziraphale's own journey in series one involves realizing that he has also /chosen/ to be with some terrible people and taking action to remedy that). But if you decide to chill out with [insert horrible political group here], then other people get to ask some hard questions and arrive at some hard conclusions about your own politico-moral beliefs. There's been a summary of the standard Vimes plot in Discworld circulating around Tumblr for a while, in which Vimes screws up, realizes that he screwed up, and decides to stop screwing up, but still has to accept the consequences of screwing up. That's also Crowley's plot, by and large, except Crowley so far has not been so great with step four.

hello Longwinded Anon✨ hope you dont mind the delay but after your first ask, and now this one, I wanted to ruminate on it all a little more in the hope i can respond with my own thoughts perhaps a little more intelligently... rather than you catching me when my feed was going beserk and also having to work in human-being world which was (as impeccable cosmic timing wills it so) also very busy - hence brain at the time being the consistency of melted chocolate icing.

for anyone else reading, the previous ask is here along with my original dumbass reply, but full response to that and this current ask are under the cut (she's lengthy, apologies in advance) (no seriously, a huge post but in my defence there is a lot to unpack from these asks)

first off, i think your reflection on how crowley was written, honestly, is exactly how he should be written, or at least is a very authentic way to write him.

i feel like some writers write characters the same way that one raises a child; the situations and dynamics you expose them to, the lessons you teach them... and what - over time - comes out are decisions, thought processes, personality traits and opinions that one is sometimes shocked by, surprised by, and even sometimes appalled by. this to me is the most truthful way you can make a character come alive off the page; they feel like theyve not just stepped fully formed out of someone's imagination, but have been nurtured into being exactly who they were always going to be, and even then may still have some growing to do.

so this is how i see crowley's character, in the abstract. he is, the same as any one of us, a product of his experiences and lessons. it doesnt matter if he only exists on paper or indeed on tv; any well written character will feel like they are a person that sometimes you will be shocked, surprised, or appalled by. you'd hope that whatever situation they come across, they make the right decisions. and that's why crowley being an arguably immoral character is so fascinating to me, and right, correct, and appropriate. i think he's written exactly how he should be written for this reason.

anyway i digress. i see your point about how possibly an overarching concept of 'political allegory', as you succinctly put it, morphed somewhat into being something way more subjective and personal, and possibly wasnt meant to be. but respectfully (genuinely welcome your thoughts here, i think i might have misinterpreted), isnt that the entire point? whatever kaleidoscope the concept of objective morality - the argument of right vs. wrong, good vs. evil - is seen through, doesnt it all boil down to how we think and act as people on the smallest of scales?

to me yes, crowley's self justification of his actions are very reminiscent of the idea of responsibility in command, in that he effectively appears to wash his hands of said responsibility when there is a higher entity to own it for him. there is validity to the nuremberg defence as a concept, but it has to be rationalised against the result - "do the ends justify the means?", as ive said before - and in many peoples lives, we literally justify our actions because we're just doing what we're told.

hardly the same scale as say the apocalypse or mass genocide, granted. but my point stands; morality to me is a fallible construct, same as anything else. why is what is evil, evil? and what is good, good? who decides that? and when is a good action necessary for the sake of evil, and an evil action necessary for the sake of good? doesnt that by definition mean that the good action becomes an evil one, and vice versa? how far does the stain spread when it makes contact?

a lot of what i do in my own job could be considered immoral on paper in actual physical words (and i wont go into further detail for risk of doxxing myself lol). but who is to decide that, when i can justify what i do because im told to do it by far more significant people than myself, and that accountability is removed from me? and also because i know that i am doing it for a good reason? things that on face value, in black and white, seem questionable, until i told you the context in which i do them?

context is key to morality. someone that gives to charity and promotes for good causes to the point of being awarded prestigious titles and rewards can be found to have essentially done it in order to commit evil atrocities. and suddenly, that evil taints the good immediately... the good even amplifies the evil of that initial action. what was initially evil is now even more evil because the conduit was something good.

context, and full, complete context, is not only key, but it is inescapably necessary when discussing morality.

this is where i come back to my interpretation of not only aziraphale and crowley, but good omens in general. the bureaucratic setting for this story's concept of good and evil trivialises this, and i think its meant to. the sterile nature of heaven/hell in GO is the perfect backdrop because i think it makes you as the reader/viewer misguidedly downplay the concept of morality, when instead as the reader you should be seeing it even more obviously than before.

yes its obviously comedic and very droll - and i love it equally for that reason; most of us have all had shitty office jobs and equally shitty bosses - but to me the main thing i take away from the sterile, efficient nature of penthouse heaven and the messy, filthy chaos of basement hell is that evil has nowhere to hide in the former, and good is practically a beacon in the latter.

crowley to me - for all the things that i love about him - is the character out of our duo that actively warps amd distorts the context. he plainly chooses to remain blind to certain aspects, because, frankly, it suits him. he completely disregards that he is in fact in charge of his actions, and that he alone is accountable for them. "but he loves the earth, wants to save it, he's threatened by hell, he's traumatised from the fall, he just wants a home", yes, that's all possibly true, and thats the context, but all of it is to his own benefit.

(i will add here that the descriptor of crowley as a "proto-Marxist with demon-class consciousness" was - well, to this house comprising of two political history enthusiasts, VERY funny)

he is, first and foremost a demon, and it's not a demons job to be altruistic, that's true. and crowley has moments of kindness yes (debatable book vs show imo), but does that justify his actions? him doing a bad thing (planning to kill a child) for a good reason (save the world) - shouldnt that, by the same logic, stain the good? in my opinion, it does. because he wants to save the earth for his own ends (which to be fair to him- absolutely understandable), but saving humanity seems to be just a byproduct. and in the same vein, just because he is under pressure and is scared, does not mean that he has any moral high ground in tempting aziraphale to kill warlock.

i still cannot fathom how anyone would try to trick their friend (crush? lover? partner?) into committing such an act. antichrist or not, killing an eleven year old boy. in the show specifically, aziraphale evidently displays discomfort with the idea, and abruptly shakes off the temptation and changes the subject. but even when aziraphale is clearly upset by the prospect, crowley pushes. and pushes. silver tongue indeed. to me, and this again would be a separate post, makes me wonder how convenient it has been all along for crowley to be friends with aziraphale. his feelings may have developed since or he may have had an initial crush, I don't know, but how much of that emerging and later established friendship went hand-in-hand with aziraphale just simply being useful to crowley?

theres no apology for the warlock temptation, and this to me is because aziraphale either doesn't realise that he did what he did, or because he's choosing to dismiss it; either option shows the huge amount of blind and arguably naive faith that aziraphale has in crowley (not going over this again, but ive touched on this here, but put it this way - aziraphale really has his faults where faith is concerned, and imo is part of why he and crowley came to verbal blows about how to handle armageddon - aziraphale has real issues with faith and pedestals). and like you intimated, anon, does crowley realise this? take advantage of this, because it suits him? yes, i think he does.

honestly congratulations to anyone who has made it this far (including you, anon), but the party isn't over yet!

so i made a post earlier about crowley's fall, and how obvious it now seems (anon may agree or disagree) that crowley's reason for falling is either complete bullshit, or was concocted by a higher power than himself. now i said jokingly in the tags that i hope its the latter because im a sucker for a It Was All For A Reason trope, the romantic that i am, but of course it may be neither, or even a bit of both. only time will tell, just have to wait and see.

but in response to your point about the difference (or there lack of) between god and the archangels, and 'lucifer and the guyyyys', it too (as i think youre getting at) demonstrates to me the differences in the respective definitions of revolution vs rebellion. a power vacuum that is replaced with an equally shit alternative is not change, progressive or inert; its just an insurrection that only succeeds to change the letterhead on the stationery.

i take it from the next bit of your ask that you consider free will to be a complete, comprehensive concept in heaven; that they are free to ask questions, to hang out with who they want etc. and i completely agree based on those examples; it must exist. but i come back to my previous point on whether (in essence) morality can truly be defined without context, and if so how this works with free will.

so, i appreciate that there must be the concept of fear in heaven if angels are discouraged (forbidden?) from questioning god, but is there any concept of punishment in heaven at this point, do you think?

my understanding is that there isn't; that falling wasnt a concept until The Fall, so what else could happen to an angel that starting exercising free will a bit too far? do you think it would follow the same bit (refrained from the word 'gimmick' here) as heaven being a corporate office; if you ask god a question she doesn't like, do you get stuck on the recycling roster? /j

the archangels are portrayed as being practically morally vacant; is that not similarly punishable? i guess what im leading to is: do you think crowley, at this point, whilst able to exercise free will, even understood the implications of hanging out with these people? would he have continued to do so if he had had the benefit of experience to know why they were a Bad Thing that he Shouldnt Get Involved With - experience of which presumably he didnt have before he fell?

obviously this doesnt invalidate the simple fact that crowley doesnt appear to have learnt from his experiences when he rises again as a demon and up until where his story is now. but if crowley is still mentally and emotionally stuck at the moment in time that he fell, stuck in that moment like a perpetually shaken snowglobe, unable to accept that that was the consequence of his actions, does that say more about his character, or more about whether his fall was justifiable in the first place? or... is that the point?

i hope you don't mind that i barely talked about aziraphale; my mental acuity has dropped significantly in the last two hours, but in any case i hope to see you in my asks again soon, anon✨

#good omens #crowley #not a shitpost but its good omens babyyyy #as may be abundantly clear from this post #i have a habit of Not Getting To The Point #and a similarly frustrating habit of talking about stuff noone asked for #but enjoy i... guess? #ask #tldr: rhi gets on her uneducated philosophical bullshit once again #personal #because of the personal reference that i may live to regret #the legend of the longwinded anon✨

[rjalker]

Your post about sci-fi slavery came across my dash - it seems like you've read the whole Murderbot series, and "regular" slavery is definitely a thing that comes up, in the form of peoples' lifelong forced indentured servitude to corporations on colonies or mining facilities. Just seemed like a odd bone to pick, when it's there pretty clearly (in Artificial Condition, Network Effect, and System Collapse at least).

Referencing this post probably. Or this related one.

Yes, I am aware there's other forms of slavery in this series, and no it's not an odd bone to pick, because the only other slavery that exists in the series is always in the background and always off-screen and never the main focus of any story.

It's not taken seriously, just like the main form of slavery isn't either.

The plot of System Collapse, no pun intended, collapses in on itself as soon as you think about it for more than five seconds, because the entire premise is that the people need to agree to be enslaved in the first place. Which isn't how slavery works.

Whether or not "regular" slavery is also a thing in the setting (only ever in the background!) does not fix the fact that the major form of slavery in the setting is the fake kind that doesn't actually exist and doesn't understand how actual oppression works, and plays into slavery apologism.

And Martha Wells can't even take the fake version of slavery she's invented seriously and treat it with the gravity that it's due, why should the fact that there's so-called 'regular' (not even) slavery in the setting only in the background fix the main problems I pointed out with my original post?

Again. Cannot stress it enough. The plot of System Collapse is that people have to agree to be enslaved before they can be enslaved and all they have to do is say no and boom. Suddenly you can't enslave them.

That is not how slavery or oppression work at all. That's just a whole new brand of victim blaming and slavery apologism to come out of this series. And it's not the first. Murderbot literally argues all the time that other constructs should remain enslaved because otherwise they'd just murder everyone. That's not even fantasy slavery apologism, that's just straight up antiblack slavery apologism that was and still is used to defend real life slavery.

I recommend you try rereading the series. Because we have seven whole books out now and it shouldn't have taken more than two for Murderbot to become actually anti-slavery but even in book 7 we can fucking even have that yet. The only slaves in this series whose lives matter are random humans who don't even get to be actual characters with personalities or matter in any way besides hurting Murderbot's feelings, and Murderbot itself. ART tears an enslaved construct to fucking peices while they're still alive and it's treated as perfectly reasonable and Badass™ instead of the most horrific fucking torture and cruelty.

I don't know how to tell you or anyone else reading this that thinks this series is good at handling slavery, but murdering slaves, and literally torturing them to death by literally chopping them into fucking peices while they're alive is in fact incredibly fucking evil and not actually anti-slavery or pro-liberation.

ART could have literally just fucking knocked that person unconcious or, as @walks-the-ages pointed out: get this: Knocked them unconscious and disabled thier fucking governermodule. ART is the most advanced fucking bot in the damn series, it can do anything it wants. Am I supposed to believe it can't hack governer modules? Am I supposed to pretend that it had no choice but to CHOP A LIVING PERSON INTO PEICES TO TORTURE THEM TO DEATH in "self-defence"?

If Murderbot had a story to tell about getting literally chopped to peices while it was still owned by the Company, it would be treated as horrific and traumatic and terrible.

But when one of the literal heroes of the story does that exact fucking gruesome thing to another enslaved person right there on the page, it's perfectly fine and cool and just shows how Badass™ ART is.

That's not fucking arguing that slavery is bad. That's arguing that slavery is bad when it happens to the protagonist.

If you're reading this post, go read the first post I linked too. Here it even is so you don't have to scroll back to the top.

Edit: you've also completely and utterly failed to address any of the things I brought up in that original post, and instead you're just trying to deflect by talking about the other slavery in the setting, even though that doesn't refute my original statements at all.

#TMBD spoilers #Murderbot spoilers #The Murderbot Diaries spoilers #System Collapse spoilers #slavery #writing #fantasy oppression #fantasy oppression written by white people #Stargate #Stargate SG1 #and more #The Murderbot Diaries #Martha Wells #Martha Wells critical #and so many other series I can't think off the top of my head right now #victim blaming #writing tips #writing advice #I guess #don't write with the idea that it's impossible to oppress people without the use of magic or scifi technobabble. #as though real oppressed people don't exist #as though history hasn't happened #replies #asks #anonymous #Martha Wells racism #Martha Wells slavery apologism #racist stereotypes #racism

[fawnheartedly]

Some Cookies as DnD classes and races

Because some cookies are walking DnD character tropes, they very much have dungeons and dragons and I'm both cookie run and critical role brainrotting so enjoy :D

Starting with the ancients cause they're basically an ex DnD party

Pure Vanilla Cookie : a cleric for sure. Probably life or light domain. He would be an Aasimar because cookie jesus.

Hollyberry Cookie : Barbarian. Let this woman rage. Path of the zealot or berserker. As for race, goliath or orc. That would have fun consequences for Princess and Tiger Lily

Dark Cacao Cookie : Paladin. He broke his previous oath and is now following an oath of vengeance. He's a dragonborn.

Golden Cheese Cookie : Hard to figure out just yet. Pretty sure she would be an aarakocra but class... Hmm... Fighter the safest bet for now ? Maybe possibly monk.

White Lily Cookie : She's a druid. I don't care if it turns out to contradicts when she's released, she's a druid in my heart. A circle of moon druid, specifically, let her turn into sabertooth tigers when she craves violence. As for race, either tiefling or fey being. Little chaos and small mischiefs behind those sad eyes and innocent smile.

Other cookies I have a take on for a DnD AU :

• Madeleine Cookie : He's the one I was refering to saying some cookies are just DnD tropes. He's a textbook Paladin. He's an Aasimar, like PV. I know they're very rare but... only those two I swear. And that would explain why he's so beloved be almost everyone.

• Espresso Cookie : Wizard tiefling. Nothing else to add. You know i'm right.

• Sparkling Cookie : Half elf. And he's the owner of the tavern everyone meets in. Since he's a healer I was first inclined to say cleric but then I thought that his best stat being charisma would make more sense so sorcerer. I think he's cool enough to be a sorcerer and some subclasses provides healing.

• Herb Cookie : Druid druid druid druid. No one is more druidic than him. He's a fey being as well, maybe a satyr or faun ?

• Vampire Cookie : A Dhampir. I feel like Rogue would be a good class for him, funnily enough.

• Mint Choco Cookie : I mean... He's a bard. Cannot possibly pick anything else than a bard for him. Charisma duo with Sparkling, they're here to smile and wink at people until they get what they want. Species I've not made up my mind yet. Tiefling is my first thought but i'll come back on that probably.

• Cocoa Cookie : I hc her as being smol, so a dwarf maybe. I feel like it fits her. Now she's a tricky one for class. She's one of the least dnd tropey character. However, Devsisters made the very interesting choice of putting her in the defence class. And if you think about the amount of milk she must be drinking everyday from her cocoas, she got tough bones. So she tanky. I'll make her a barbarian. Soft but can take a hit or ten. Not afraid of punching <3

• Cherry Blossom Cookie : Rogue. Rogue who wears pink and pink only. Rogue who isn't edgy. Rogue who loves people and picnics and making food and having a good time with friends. Softy rogue. I love a good trope subversion sometimes. She's an air genasi, idk it makes sense.

• Red Velvet Cookie : Ranger or fighter. I thought about Blood Hunter but killing monsters is quite literally the opposite of his goal. As for race, elf with dragon traits due to an incident.

• Pastry Cookie : Human. And the most ecclesiastical class would be cleric. Let's say she just doesn't like to heal. Or a domain that's less healing based.

• Latte Cookie : Elf sorcerer.

• Milk Cookie : I wanted to have him be the basic-est thing possible in DnD, an human fighter, but then realised I could just have Gingerbrave be that and Milk is closer to be a paladin so... Human Paladin.

• Purple Yam Cookie : Textbook barbarian. He's a goliath.

• Dark Choco Cookie : Human with dragonborn traits but not in the same way as RV. And he's a paladin.

•Crunchy Chip Cookie : Ranger. I've never seen someone as ranger as him. Halfling because smol~

• Caramel Arrow Cookie : Fighter for sure, proficiency in ranged weapons. Race i'm not sure yet again. Shoot me ideas o/

• Wildberry Cookie : Human. But a very tall one. And a Barbarian too.

• Financier Cookie : Part of me wants her to be a Firbolg or a goliath (have you noticed how big her sprite is in game ? She's taller than Dark Cacao). One of the half giants races at least because she's huge. And she's a paladin, there again cannot pick anything else.

• Clotted Cream Cookie : Human or half elf. And I want him to be a warlock. I know a sorcerer would make more sense but ... Ok ok, compromise. Both. Multiclass Sorcerer/Warlock. He can do it, I believe in him.

I do have some more ideas but it's getting long. If you want my input on other cookies, a more in depht research on those cookies or just to talk about DnD AU, don't hesitate ! I might even draw them, who knows :D

#cookie run #crk #pure vanilla cookie #hollyberry cookie #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #white lily cookie #madeleine cookie #espresso cookie #pastry cookie #red velvet cookie #purple yam cookie #milk cookie #clotted cream cookie #financier cookie #mint choco cookie #sparkling cookie #vampire cookie #herb cookie #cherry blossom cookie #cocoa cookie #crunchy chip cookie #caramel arrow cookie #dark choco cookie #wildberry cookie #latte cookie #Cookie Run DnD

[shinobinvku]

RP continuation for @009720kakashi | Kakashi

He arches both eyebrows which also makes him open the Sharingan. It is exhausting to keep it closed constantly without the support of a Hitai- ate. In ANBU attire he cannot wear one since he has to be able to open it under the mask.  “Are you dru…?” he does not finish the sentence. Instead looks at Otsuka’s refilled glass and sighs. “Well of course you are” he adds then in a lower voice. Taking another sip of his own glass. “You are far too occupied with my dick Otsuka. Are there even these mysterious other people or do you want to tell me something?” Attack was the best defence at times. Also people tended to be thrown off by such remarks. He might regret it with Otsuka though. The man is not shy at all. “Aside from that… ANBU doing ‘commitment’ clearly need to rethink their career choices ne?” Being in ANBU is a good excuse to fend off overzealous suitors. Not that he has overzealous suitors. People do rarely approach him that way and he has worked very hard for that. Usually civilians tended to be more brave in that aspect since they did not know his reputation.  He lets Shinya fill his glass once more after all. You did not get shimazake that often.  “No!” he replies immediately.  “Are you fucking kidding me? No setting up anything Otsuka.” It is one think if it comes to it naturally. Something else to have someone set it up.  “Believe it or not I can get sex …even without having to pay for it or be set up. I’m not that hopeless. Also if she is that interested how about she makes a move then? You said it yourself. There are no rules against it since I’m not her Captain. That’s not on my plate then I’d say.”

❝ Oi, I heard that, you little shit! I’m not drunk.  It’ll take more than that, trust me. ❞ Shinya laughed, taking another drink. The Ghost Tiger may be several things, like a notorious flirt or a party animal, but he was not a lightweight. The man had an unnaturally high tolerance to alcohol for someone his size. Rumor has it he could even out-drink anyone. 

❝ Why? Do you want me to say something, Hatake? ❞ He asks in a low, sultry tone, lips laced with a devilish smirk. Of course, he’s joking. He chuckles, takes a large drink, and leans over the balcony railing.  

❝Don’t flatter yourself. You may have that mysterious vibe thing going for you with the mask, but that’s about it. My type is someone with an actual personality. Joking aside, though, you could’ve fooled me! You’re always so fucking tightly wound, I figured it’s been a while for you. ❞ 

Shinya sighs, scratching the back of his head. You try to help a guy out, and they end up ungrateful! 

❝ Do you want her to make the first move? God’s sake, Hatake, you’re a real ladies' man. ❞ He rolled his eyes, running a palm over his face at how embarrassed he was for him. 

❝ Look, if I gave you a hint of who it is, you can do with the information as you want. You’ve worked with her before. A certain cute, little redhead that we know. Ring any bells? ❞

#shinobinvku #009720kakashi #muse: otsuka shinya #tw: alcohol #hatake kakashi #verse: the anbu captain #story: down the hatch

[leninova1997]

Really random headcanon stuff about Doom3guy from my novel (series) 'cause why not

Obviously, he is not and never will be my own character. Yet doesnt mean i cannot work on him and extend his personal depth in the name of creation.

- He is easily fitting into the “silent but deadly” type. Not a huge fan of wasting his time on small talk or somehow have them change their minds: he either takes his chances in action or nothing else (well, for the most part that is)

- From the outside, he can be seem like a cold, distant, unfriendly individual who has no feelings and only has interest in his own things. While in reality, he is just a person who is extremely picking when it comes to trust and reliability (mostly taken from his own experiences). He wont spare anything on those who dont deserve it. His introverted side doesnt “help” the situation either (he doesnt really care since this kind of operating has proven to be more useful in the long run, even with all the disadvantages intact). In fact, he may not be the most easily approachable person, however he has a truly loving heart that has all the place to those who he really cares about. You could even say he has a totally changed personality when they are around: he is talkative, friendly, very supportive, encouraging and smiles a lot. Its a rare sighing yet stunning to see and experience. 

- He is the type of guy who would stay behind and fight to his last drop of blood just to make sure, anyone who is involved gets to have the change to be saved. He puts everybody in the first place, then himself on the second. It is not rooted in ego rather in his fundamental beliefs: he is the leader, he is the man, he is the father - he has to step up, has to be the strongest line of defence and at the same time be ready for the possibility to give the best of his best or even his life for others. And he is never shy about projecting this kind of view: he is absolutely convinced, this is the reason he is around and the main purpose of his existence. If you ask me, his father had a great influence on him for sure 

- He was born on the 13th of January, 2118 (not friday!). Originally the place of birth was New York City, then decided to ditch the idea for a better alternative and a sharper narrative contrast. I hope one day you get to see why

- He joined the marines right after he graduated from high school. He was not only preparing heavily for the entry test (we all know who notoriously hard it is and i can confidently believe this wont change a lot in the future) during the 4 years but was a huge dream of his (again, his father’s influence since he served the UAC in the same way, for a fairly long time before his death). Before he got stripped from his rank and achievements, he made it to the “sergeant” (and wasnt too far to make it to “staff sergeant”). 

- He got married with his high school sweetheart not soon after he got accepted to join the marine corps. Their connection is much more based on deep emotional and intellectual properties rather than purely on physical attraction (its there though). Essentially they are total opposites who complete each other (like she is an very open, overly kind hearted and emotionally expressive individual yet a little bit naive and shy) but that doesnt automatically mean they cannot attach to the same principles and live by that. Its more about balance and a steady state that they are both happy and confident in. Also, one of the simplest conformations about their dynamic is how they usually sleep: big spoon - small spoon since it not only represents perfectly their inner sides but their relation to each other in the relationship (or because its romantic in this way and they like it a lot, lol)

- His wife and daughter (born in 2138) not only represent a strong pillar in his life but something essential he can always return to find refuge and (emotional) support in. He is a tough guy with a strong personality and enough hard times behind his back, yet he is not immune to the overwhelming hopelessness and sadness that lingers around and even more inside him. This kind of craving for care become much more evident when he returned back from Mars and had to deal with the trauma of the invasion, the truth and the agonizing nightmares that never stopped haunting him for years. His wife worked as a psychiatrist for the Company, although it wasnt truly her expertise in the field that were needed in these cases, rather her affectionate and devoted nature that helped him out the gutter many times. 

Sorry, i had to put this gif here because its so beautiful  😭 😭 😭

- He has his own interest in many things, but the most important was always drawing to him, especially in an illustrative way. He has a great photographic memory, so combining this with his skills, it often results in well made even stunning art pieces. He kind of neglected his hobby when he become the member of the army, but after his daughter was born, he started to return back to it more and more. He didnt really imagine himself doing this for long or for life, however the entertainment value never seemed to fade away

- He is a huge fan of travelling, specially in tropical and/or warmer areas such as the Mediterranean peninsula, Central and South America and some parts of Southeast Asia. Wasnt the best experience for him though when he had to serve in such places like Syria, Libanon and Libya since the temperature and the environmental conditions were unbearable at best (along with the warzones he had to anticipate in). But to prove somewhat he is an actual admirer: he had his honeymoon in Portugal (it was a short weekend) which he still likes to relive to this day. 

- He is a great grandson of a somewhat “famous” individual (who is NOT polish and have nothing to do with WW2, rather was active during the difficult era from the early 2030s and later 2040s). His first name comes from his deceased uncle to honor his remembrance (thanks to his father) who was suffering from Duchenne dystrophy and died in an early age. His name was given when Mars and colonization was a hot topic during the 2090s and many parents named their child after or in connection with the planet. 

I hope you liked my mindblowing post, hope to make more in the future. I guess

Cheers

#doom3 #doom3guy #novel #characterlist #doom #dontkillmeimjustacrazyfangirllmao