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bloodynereid · 7 months

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Reapers & Ravens

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pairings: jordan li x oc

tw: canonical violence and gore, allusions/talk about sex, alcohol and drug consumption and misuse (i don't condone the actions of the characters so remember to drink wisely), A LOT of mentions of death, iffy morals?? - if there are any more pls lmk

description: the story of a girl. a girl cursed by compound v to live a life without touch.

a/n: hiii and welcome to the first chapter of my new fic. I haven't written a multi-chapter fic in a while so be patient with me. some little disclaimers: as of the moment of writing this chapter i have only seen the first 3 eps of gen v so if something doesn't work plot wise with future eps i will try to come back and change it, secondly i do not support chance perdomo's actions - i felt like this needed to be stated cause his character andre will be a prominent part of the story and i would change it but he literally is the only one that really makes sense in his role in vic's backstory. vic's wonderful roommate was created all thanks to one of my mutuals (not sure if you want me to mention you by name) so all credit goes to them for gemma. FINALLY i hope you enjoy! the second chapter should be out soon and i'm always open to feedback so lmk your thoughts either in the comments or in an ask. love you and ty for taking the time to read my fic - my a/n will not be this long all the time i promise.

19 years ago…

A little girl lay peacefully in her wooden cot, the walls surrounding her were painted in a beautiful pastel lilac and a snowflake mobile lay spinning above her little head. The night was serene, the wind rustled the leaves of the great oak outside the girl’s window and a soft lullaby was echoing through the room.

The girl’s mother smiled down at her perfect bundle of joy as she laid the pads of her fingers right against the soft silky skin of her daughter’s hand. Everything was perfect for another few seconds before the mother started to feel herself fade away. She deliriously looked down at her hand where she suddenly saw her skin going gray.

The baby’s eyes flew open and she let out a happy gurgle as her mother started to wither away in front of her just because she held her daughter’s little hand.

“I love you my darling girl.” Were the last words that came out of the mother’s mouth before her soul was taken far far away. Too far for her daughter to follow.

The second that the tingly feeling that the baby experienced faded away she let out a loud cry. Her mama wasn’t moving and she looked all wrong. The little girl cried and cried and cried until finally the door to her nursery flew open.

Her papa filled the doorway as he let out a horrified gasp before kneeling next to his wife. His dead wife.

“Victoria, what have you done?”

Present Day…

I pressed skip to the song playing on my phone and shifted my gaze to the flashing scenery, music resonating through my headphones as I was being driven to Godolkin. It was absolutely insane that I was actually doing it. I was actually going to GodU. The whole situation just felt so unreal. Distantly I heard a voice calling out so with practiced precision I moved my headphones away from my ears.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Of course Miss. I was just saying that we’re nearly there.”

“Ok thanks Rob.”

I sent him a smile and replaced my headphones before taking a moment to examine my newest pair of gloves, the carefully crafted design on top of the white leather made me smile. Dad didn’t really pay that much attention to me ever since the incident™ but at least he seemed proud of me for getting into GodU. He had gifted me these gloves after stuttering out that they had once belonged to my mother.

I promised myself that I would try to wear them as much as possible since I barely had anything to remember her by anymore… other than the power my parents decided to inject me with. Life-force absorption isn’t all that common, as my relatives put it: ‘those powers… they’re a curse!’

Everything that touches me dies basically. It’s how my mother died and it’s how I kill plants and sometimes people (by accident I swear). I absorb their energy and it sort of works like a drug - I get a shot of life. Other people aren’t so lucky, they slowly turn into a gray statue and die.

Sometimes I’m able to stop before they're totally gone but with the potency of my powers they’re kaput by just 3 seconds of physical touch. I know it sucks, I can’t even shake hands for Christ’s sake!

“Miss? Miss?” I’m shaken out of my string of thoughts when I heard Rob’s voice echoing through the interior of the car.

“Yes yup sorry.” I took off my headphones and quickly shoved them into my canvas bag before looking out the window. There stood Godolkin University, the end goal of all my relentless studying and hard work.

“We have arrived. Are you okay Miss?”

“Yes I’m more than okay Rob. Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course, do you need any help with any of your boxes?” He asked as he unlocked the car and we both stepped out into the warm September air.

“It should be fine but thanks Rob really. I’ll see you at Christmas?”

“Definitely Miss Oaks, have a good semester.” He finished placing your 3 boxes and suitcase onto one of the many trolleys and sent me a smile.

“Thanks.” I gave him a little wave as he got back into the SUV and drove off. Turning to the big metal gates I took a deep breath to steady myself. Time for the start of the rest of my life.

Okay maybe I really should have asked Rob for help with these idiotic boxes. I’m a goddamn super hero. Why was I struggling so much with this? I was already regretting this as I walked past the Lamplighter School for Crimefighting, failing to push both the trolley and my suitcase.

“You look like you need some saving from a gracious prince.” I heard an eerily familiar voice as I looked up from my tortuous task. Andre Anderson. An old friend whose friendship was sort of forced on us by our dads, who happened to have been in the same class at Godolkin.

“Andre! Fucking hell I’m so glad to see you, please help me. I’m dying here.” I said dramatically as I sunk down to the ground next to all my stuff.

“You know you should consider majoring in Performing Arts if you keep up with that.” Andre said with a smirk but he still started to help by pulling my large suitcase towards the freshman dorms.

“Haha. You know I’ll be joining you at Crimefighting, my powers will probably render any makeup artist dead.”

“Oh please become an actress I would love to see that.” I narrowed my eyes at him and lightly punched him in the arm as he took a sip of his latte.

“Hey!”

“You deserved that.”

“Ok maybe I deserved that. So Vic, what are your first impressions?”

“It’s huge for one thing.”

“That’s what she said.” I rolled my eyes at his immature sense of humor before stealing the latte out of his hand and taking a sip, only to scrunch my face.

“What the fuck do you put in this? It’s literally pure sugar.”

“Hangover cure.” He said with a shrug as he stole the latte back. “You should come hang tonight. I can introduce you to everyone.”

“Mmh sure. I think you mean getting me into trouble.”

“When have I ever done something like that before?” Andre asked as his eyes twinkled.

“Oh just about every time I hang out with you.” Stopping in front of the freshman dorm room Andre looked at me and tried to make his usual puppy eyes.

“Please.”

“Fuck fine. You need to stop doing that.”

“Why? It works every single time.”

“I’ll see you later then?”

“Definitely, enjoy being around the freshers.” Andre gave me a military salute making me roll my eyes as I started dragging all my stuff into the building.

Weaving my way through a shitton of supes was way harder than I expected, at least I had a jacket on or a few of them would be very dead right now. Finally and by finally I mean, FINALLY I found my room, I clutched the handle of the door and pushed in when I realized I definitely had the wrong room. Two girls were already all set up in the room and swiveled to look at me weirdly.

“Uh hi? Shit I’m sorry, I'm in the wrong room.”

“Wait! Are you Victoria Oaks?” asked the shorter blonde one.

“Uh yes?”

“Holy shit I follow you on Insta hi! I’m Emma and this is Marie.”

“Oh cool hi.”

“I can’t believe you’re on the same floor as us. Want to go check out the Golden Boy’s workout? We’re going to head down in a few.” Right, okay, I should make friends. So time to compromise.

“Uh sure? What exactly would we be doing?”

“Oh you’ll see.” Emma says with a mischievous smile.

“Righttt that sounds incredibly ominous but I’ll see you in a few. I’ve got to go put down all my stuff.”

“Ok see you!” I smile and retreat back into the busy hallway but not before catching Marie’s remark.

“Who is she exactly?”

“DO YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK?” Emma replied loudly, making me snort. Taking a deep breath I once again clutch the handle of the door across the hall and push it open to see a girl lying on the bed closest to the door. She smiles up at me and bounds over to the door in an instant.

“Hi! You must be Victoria. I’m Gemma, nice to meet you.” She says before extending her hand. I carefully move my gloved hand over to hers and shake it.

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you too.” I took a moment to scan her appearance, she was absolutely stunning. Her red hair trailed down her shoulders and her smile seemed to light up the very room. “You’re so beautiful wow.”

“Aww thank you so much! You are absolutely stunning as well, like this blonde totally suits the whole vibe you give off.”

“Is it a good vibe?”

“Oh definitely.”

“Ok whew I was worried for a second there.” We start laughing and Gemma helps me sort out all my stuff in the huge boxes.

“Actually with the talk about appearances would it be okay if I ever shift into you? I love being able to get to know people more through their faces and stuff but only if you’re cool with it.”

“Shifting? You mean like shape shifting.” I ask as I look over to her curiously, picking up yet another pair of gloves which I placed on one of the shelves in the closet.

“Yup!”

“Oh I wouldn’t mind at all, that's such a cool power!” Her entire face brightened as her hair slowly started to shift and match the shade of my bleached one.

“Brilliant! Thank you. So… what’s your power?”

“Oh umm here let me show you.”

Carefully taking out one of my older plants out of the box I place it on the window sill and pull off my leather glove. Within just a few seconds of my fingertips placed on top of the delicate leaves the plant withered away and died. I could feel the zap of energy encase my being and I smiled. Life absorption feels incredible, it’s so encompassing. You quite literally feel full of life. For a second as I turned around I could see the blood and energy from Gemma’s cell move around her body but I shook off the stupor.

“Wow. Can you just do that with plants or?”

“Uh no people as well. Anything alive that touches my skin just dies.”

“So you can’t do human contact?”

“Nope, unless I want them dead.”

“What about sex?” I chuckled at her slightly incredulous tone.

“I think you need to reevaluate what you consider sex.”

“Oh okay wow” Gemma laughed and we continued to set up my plants on the windowsill and chatted about our favorite movies, surprisingly enough we had pretty different tastes but there were a few that we had in common - like our love for Clue. That was when we heard a knock on the door, Gemma looked at me with a clear question in her eyes.

“I met our dorm neighbors a few minutes ago and they invited me to go see Golden Boy train.”

“Ooo I’m so coming with you.” Gemma shifted her hair back to red and waltzed over to open the door as I finished placing my last plant pots.

“What’s the deal with his workout sessions anyway?” I ask as she pulls open the door to find Emma and Marie standing sort of awkwardly outside.

“Oh he’s like super hung, and when he blazes up his clothes all melt away.” Emma answers my question but when she catches sight of Gemma her jaw drops.

“Right, uh Marie and Emma meet my roommate Gemma.”

“Holy fuck you’re so hot.” Emma says, almost as if the words involuntarily jump out of her mouth.

“Why thank you, love, you are as well.” Gemma flashes her a dazzling smile.

“Alright then enough flirting. I have been promised to see some hot supes. Let’s go!” I exclaim as the little group makes their way towards the arena. Hanging back so I was walking next to Marie, we watched the two girls flirt.

“Oh that’s going to be very interesting. I don’t believe we’ve talked much yet, but I’m Vic. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. Emma gave me a full on lecture on why I should know who you are but I kind of zoned out halfway through.” I let out a laugh at her admission and gently nudged my shoulder with hers.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s kind of nice having someone who has no idea who I am or who my dad is.”

“I’m glad, everything is so…”

“A lot, I know. My dad homeschooled me for the last few years of high school so being among this many people, especially supes can be overwhelming. If you ever need to chat or just need someone to hang out with, I'm your girl.” Marie gave me a grateful smile, “So what are your supe powers?”

“Blood manipulation.” My eyebrows shot up and I looked at her with astonishment.

“Holy fuck that’s awesome. I basically drain the life force of any living being.”

“Really?”

“Yup so don’t touch my skin unless you’re covered up.” I throw up jazz hands to showcase my gloved hands which elicits a short laugh out of Marie.

“Got it. You’re really nice by the way. Everyone here seems so like aggressively in your face.”

“Yeah I know. I’ve had to live around supes my whole life, it really isn’t at all like Vought or the movies say.”

We finally arrive at the arena and I take a seat next to her, Emma is sitting next to Marie and Gemma is still trying and succeeding at flirting with the blonde. Leaning over the railing I peer out into the main arena and spy Andre making his rounds with the group.

“Yo Andre.” I scream out into the stadium making him turn around, trying to find me in the crowd. The people seated around us had now turned to look at me as I smiled down at him. He smiled back and tilted his head towards where Golden Boy and some other dude were gearing up to fight, inviting me to come down.

“You sure?”

“Yeah get down here.” I turn towards my new group of friends and say: “You guys okay if I go down?”

“Since when do you know Andre Anderson? You know what don’t answer that question go, go, go. Tell us everything when you get back.” Gemma and Emma urged me out of my seat as Marie kind of sat there awkwardly but with an encouraging smile on her face.

I carefully picked my way down the stands and vaulted over the fence to get over to the sidelines of the fight. I poke at Andre’s shoulder as I fall in next to him as I watch the fight playing out. Golden Boy was obviously winning and wow Luke Riordan really had some moves.

“Oh hey Vic. It’s earlier than I expected to see you.”

“Well I did want to honor you with my presence more than once today.” I sent him a sarcastic smile which made him respond by pushing my shoulder.

“Wow Andre I can’t believe you have more friends than us, I feel betrayed.” I turned to the source of the voice and there stood a beautiful blonde, who had a big smile on her face. Little butterflies exploded in my stomach - how was everyone so damn attractive?

“Cate, darling, I hate to break this to you like this but I have a lot more friends than just you guys.”

“Oh how will I live knowing this information?” Cate said with a dramatic gasp and pretended to faint into Andre’s arms. He just pushed her up and they stuck out their tongues at each other.

“You guys are going to be perfect for each other. Cate Dunlap meet Victoria Oaks.”

“Hi! Nice to meet you.” I say as I extend a gloved hand only to be met with a similarly gloved hand, only that it was covered in brown leather instead of white.

“Oh my god, your gloves! I love these designs, you have got to tell me where you get yours. My collection needs adding to.” She says excitedly as she quickly shakes my hand and turns it over to inspect the handiwork. We continue to nerd out about gloves as the fight finishes and Andre throws Golden Boy some clothes, before they head over to us.

“Hi sweetheart you did great out there,” Cate throws her arms around him and they make out for a few seconds as I kind stand there awkwardly with Andre.

“Do they usually do this?”

“Yes. There is so much PDA I’m surprised they haven’t had sex in front of us yet.” Andre’s voice was raised in volume a little at the end which caught the attention of the couple.

“Oh right, Luke meet my new best friend, this is Vic.” Cate said as fixed her now slightly messed up lipstick.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you Vic. Andre has told us a lot about you.”

I cringed but shook my head trying to forget about the many instances the idiot had nearly gotten us arrested and the one time he did.

“Yeah well, I hope it’s all nice things because any time I do spend with this guy somehow ends with us breaking a law.”

“Oh we can relate. I remember this one time…” We started making our way out of the arena as Luke started to recount one of the insane adventures that Andre managed to string them into. It felt nice to actually be part of a group again and it was easy. Way easier that I thought it would be.

After a few hours of touring the grounds and eating at Vought-a-Burger, I finally trudged back to my dorm absolutely exhausted. Not that it wasn’t great getting to know Cate, Andre and Luke but the whole day had absolutely drained me.

When I finally opened the door to my room I was surprised to find Emma sitting on top of Gemma’s bed reading some random fashion magazine.

“Uh Emma?”

The girl basically jumped out of her position on the bed and whirled to face me. Suddenly her entire body shifted and there stood Gemma, looking rather embarrassed with a sheepish smile on her face.

“Look, I asked her if I could change into her body! This wasn’t without consent and she’s just so stunning and it’s the-”

“Hey hey, Gem. Chill, I get it, you have a crush on our neighbor.” I smiled a little teasingly as I tried to reassure her. Thankfully Gemma’s panicked look faded and was replaced with a grateful smile.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all good, you guys would look great together.”

“Do you think that Emma might actually like me?”

“Oh Gem, I think anyone would be lucky to have you. From the few hours that I’ve known you, you're genuinely one of the sweetest people out there. And that’s saying something cause you’re also a supe.” I gave her a small smile before opening up my arms to signal for her to hug me. She flew into my grasp and I was careful not to let my exposed face anywhere near her.

“Thanks I needed this.”

“Hey I’m here anytime, just don't touch any skin.” I sent her a teasing smile when she finally pulled away. “How about we have a chill night in? There’s this new show I’ve been meaning to start.”

“Great! We can have our first girl’s night.”

“Fuck yeah! I’ll just get changed into my pajamas and grab some of my snacks from the stash.”

After spending the night doing absolutely nothing except watching Yellowjackets and raiding snacks from the vending machine after my relatively large stash ran out, Gemma and I woke up sugar hungover. Somehow we managed to make it down to the cafe and bought some coffee, which was thankfully enough to wake us up.

“So you heading over to Performing Arts?” I finally asked Gemma after the caffeine started to kick in.

“Yeah, Marie and Emma said they were going to meet me there as well so…”

“Can you believe we’re actually doing this?” I ask as we slowly walk out onto the common, I readjust my favorite pair of black gloves, knowing that if we were doing any sort of combat sessions at Crimefighting I would probably end up damaging my mom’s ones.

“Nope, it’s still surreal that I actually got accepted.”

“What are you talking about? You literally have some of the most interesting and versatile powers.”

“Yeah but I’m on scholarship, if that somehow falls through…” I smiled at her reassuringly as we stopped at the fork in the walk.

“Look you’re super fucking smart and you have more control over your power than most of the supes I know. Gem, you’re going to be great and never let anyone tell you otherwise.” Gemma smiled at me after she thanked me and we both went our separate ways - time to see what orientation was going to be like.

I navigated through the slew of students making their way through the halls of the Lamplighter School for Crimefighting when I suddenly bumped into someone. Thank whatever entity out there that I had just thrown out the remainder of my iced coffee.

“Shit sorry- Oh.” I caught the eye of the person I had bumped into as I helped them gather the assortment of books, all Brink’s for the looks of it.

“Right yeah, it’s fine just be more careful next time.” The person just kind of ran off after I helped them with the books. Strange and kind of rude but also so very attractive. I smiled at myself, if bumping into people meant getting to meet more enticing supes then this year was going to be incredible.

“Hey! Hey! Victoria. Vic. Vicky.” I finally stopped and turned to look at Andre who had been relentlessly pursuing me for the past few minutes. Orientation went well and I got to meet some of the other supes - mostly it was just for selfies but still.

“You know I hate when people call me that.”

“Well it was a last resort, you weren’t stopping.”

“You don’t think there may have been a reason behind that? Maybe my dad is dying and this is the last chance I get to hear his voice.” I remarked in an overly bored tone, I could already tell from Andre’s whole face that he was about to invite me to do something illegal… again.

“I know for a fact that isn’t real since it hasn’t been on any gossip sites-”

“Wait since when do you frequent gossip sites?” I ask incredulously as he somehow starts to lead me towards the opposite direction I was going in the first place.

“Not the point. You’re coming out with us tonight.”

“Do I get a say in the matter or?”

“Nope, go get changed into something hot and meet me in front of Lamplighter in half an hour.”

“Excuse you, but I always look hot. Thank you very much.” I say scoffing but we both know I’m silently agreeing with his plans - like always.

“Oh I know darling. Now hurry up.” He pushed me softly (as softly as a supe could push someone) and I made my way to my dorm.

“Hey Gem. Good day?” I said as I threw my bag on the bed and started to look through my outfits, I needed something that would cover all exposed skin - I really didn’t need another incidental death on my roster.

“Yup! We really should plan out more ways to- wait what are you looking for?”

“Andre invited me out with his friends you’re welcome to come if you want.”

“Nope it’s okay. I’ve got some auditions I need to tape.” She said with a smile.

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m not really in the mood for partying tonight, orientation was a lot.”

“Tell me about it. You can use my bedroom if you need any extra space by the way.” I shouted out from behind the wall as I laid out the different materials that made up my outfits - it was a mismatch of blacks, whites and reds. Cute.

“Thank you! Holy shit you look fucking incredible.” Gemma remarked as I walked back into her bedroom now wearing my going out outfit.

“Why thank you. I haven’t been out clubbing for a while so I thought it would be best to go big.”

“Always the best choice. Make sure you don’t get too smashed okay?”

“I will try. Byeee.” Her laughter echoes into the hallway and the door shuts behind me. I flash the security guard a smile before leaving the freshman dorm building and making my way to the Crimefighting school.

“Oh god please don’t tell me Andre has dragged you into one of his schemes.” I say when I catch sight of Marie standing next to Cate, Luke, Andre and someone I had a vague inkling that I’ve met before.

“Vic! You came!” Cate smiled and pulled me into a little hug when I was close enough to the group.

“Hi guys.” I said with a smile before turning to the stranger of the group. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet, I’m Victoria.”

“We have actually, I’m Jordan. You bumped into me this morning.” A giddy smile slowly spread out over my face.

“Oh right, you were the hot and mysterious person I nearly killed this morning. Pleasure to meet you.” A dusting of blush appeared on their face and we held eye contact which was annoyingly broken by Andre’s screech of:

“You nearly killed someone AGAIN?”

“Ok dude chill it really wasn’t that bad.” I roll my eyes at his antics and thankfully the exchange gets interrupted by Luke.

“Come on, we don't want to be late.” Luke said after removing his arms from around Cate and heading over to the driver’s seat. Andre makes a whole thing of opening up the passenger seat for Kate and I get into the back seat with Jordan sliding in next to me.

The entire car ride was spent awkwardly avoiding whatever feud Jordan and Marie had going one and trying to get everyone better. Cate and I talked more about our glove choices, mine were black with a red heart detail and hers were stunningly sculpted brown ones. The playlist was (thankfully) controlled by Jordan, which ended up with music that could have been stolen from my own playlist.

When we finally got to our first destination, my jaw dropped - I had only been to Seven tower a handful of times. Mostly to deal with lawsuits from accidental deaths, there were surprisingly few of them for the amount of death that seemed to follow me everywhere. Luke and Cate managed to get us up on the roof, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Homelander could literally hear us up here. Better not to think about that.

So I took a hit of coke after Andre passed me his little vial - drugs were a way to kind of quell the murderous impulses my power demanded plus they were fun to do when around friends. Doing coke alone does not have the same effect - trust me.

“Hell yes! I forgot you did this stuff.” Andre said as I spied Luke wandering off to talk to Marie.

“Eh sometimes. I usually stick to weed or shrooms. The harder stuff messes with this whole thing when I’m hungover.” I said as I raised my hands to try and illustrate my point, wow okay this was strong stuff. I could quite literally already feel the haze starting to form around my brain.

“What exactly is your power anyway?” Jordan asked as we continued to do some more bumps.

“Oh well basically everything I touch dies.”

“So your skin is poisonous?”

“No, I absorb energy or rather life force. Here.” I wander over to one of the randomly placed potted plants and take off my glove, only to place my fingers on the red petals. The plant started to shrivel up and die about a second later.

“Awesome.” We were both clearly starting to feel the effects of the coke. We started to laugh as we made our way back to the main group.

The next stop on our little unsanctioned outing was some fancy club that Andre had been raving about the entire drive over there from the tower. I lean against one of the golden walls as I watch Cate do her thing.

“We don’t have one but you don’t give a fuck. Right?”

“I do not give a fuck.” The doorman leads us straight into the club and I smile widely at Cate.

“You are such a fucking badass.”

“I know.”

After getting some much needed drinks I lean back against the red seats and stretch out my arms. This many people were making me antsy and drugs and alcohol can only settle so much of my power.

“So yeah, basically this fucking idiot decided we should have a lightsaber duel in the middle of Grand Central and someone must have called the cops cause they randomly pulled up and we were arrested for ‘disrupting the peace’.”

The entire group burst out laughing and one of the many stories I had from when Andre and I would hang out as teens - we sort of drifted ever since he got to GodU but it felt just like old times.

“Alright, alright, enough embarrassing stories about our arrests. You guys in?” Andre asks as he holds up a bag of Molly and Jordan snatches it from his hold.

“Is that cocaine?”

“Nah we finished all the coke. It’s Molly. Vic?”

“Ooo yes please.” Jordan smiles charmingly and passes the little bag over to me.

“Hey I don’t really fuck with powder. But I do microdose shrooms.” Luke says with an almost triumphant tone as he also pulls out another bag.

“Hey where do you get yours from? I need a good dealer now that I’ve moved from LA.” I ask Luke before passing the bag containing Molly back to Andre.

“I’ll send you my guy’s number.”

“Thanks man.”

“So, what do you say, freshman?”

“Uh-”

“Hey Marie, you don’t have to - we are not trying to peer pressure you but… it’ll be funnn.” I smile widely and wiggle my eyebrows making her laugh, Cate also joins in on my teasing and she relents.

“Yes, let's go Marie.”

“Whooo. Come on, let's dance.”

That’s when I suddenly feel a little part of me sober up, fuck. It was a bad memory - the last time I danced was homecoming. A really sweet guy had asked me out and of course I had said yes. It was one accidental touch of my cheek against his and a few seconds later he laid dead in the middle of the dance floor. I ended up changing to homeschool after that whole incident, there had been issues across the years but overall this was one of the worst.

“Vic?” I shake out of my stupor as I look up at Cate extending her hand in invitation.

“Nah I don’t dance.” She must have seen something in my eyes cause she smiled softly and retracted her hand.

“Ok, just know you’re missing out on a great time.” She pulled Marie off towards the dance floor and I took a sip of the whiskey I had ordered.

“Any reason you’re not dancing out there? I remember all those clubs we sneaked into and you fucking killed it everytime.” Andre asked as he leaned back against the cushions.

“Andre, darling, that’s not proper club conversation. I’m going to go get another drink, you guys want anything?”

“I’ll come with you.” Jordan exclaimed as they sprang up from his seat and started following me towards the bar. I could quite literally feel the smirk that Andre and Luke had on their faces. Suddenly I heard a small pop next to me and I turned to see that Justin had shifted.

“You want anything specific?” I asked with a slight tilt of my head.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Wise choice.” I winked at them and leaned over to wave to the bartender. He, obviously trying to flirt, ended up giving us a bunch of free vodka shots and 2 whiskies, the top shelf stuff.

“So how are you liking GodU so far?”

“It’s greatish. There’s so many bloody supes.” Jordan just raised their eyebrows at me as she helped me carry over the drinks.

“Oh I definitely know what you’re talking about. Have you met Rufus yet?”

“No?” I look at them in question and she looks at me with relief.

“Pray that you don’t.” We dissolved into laughter for a second time that night and finally set our drinks down at the booth.

“Well don’t you two look cozy.” Luke remarked.

“You changed? Why?”

“Cause I fucking felt like it. And more free drinks.”

“Here here.” Luke agreed as we each held up a vodka shot.

“To the Seven.”

“No way.” I look at Luke in minor awe, he actually got a place in the motherfucking Seven.

“I literally just told you.”

“Yeah well you do know that I’m an open book, plus you have to invite me to the tower sometime. I crush so hard on A-train… imagine that man in bed.”

“And that is exactly why he won’t be inviting you.” I added after taking my shot.

“It’s the least surprising surprise ever but congrats. You deserve it. When are you leaving?”

“More like when do you get to be number one?”

“Please, the trustees think I’m too confusing. I’ll never get number one.”

“They put you in the orientation video.”

“Yeah so they can suck their own dicks about how progressive they are.”

I listen to each of them debating the merits and the downsides (mostly Andre) of getting ranked number one when I start to feel it. Goddammit. Every life force around me seemed to pulse. I could see literal life running through each person’s veins and the conversation started to grow further and further away.

Quickly fishing in the pocket of my jacket I pulled out a few tablets of the experimental drug Vought was testing out on well… just me. I place one of the cylindrical neon green pills on my tongue and wash it back with another shot of vodka. A few seconds later everything went back to normal and I watched Luke and Andre have a whole bro moment. It was actually quite touching.

“By the way I forgot to mention but you’ve looked so fucking hot tonight.” Jordan turned to look at me with a slight smirk on their face.

“Oh you haven’t seen anything yet.” She winked and I felt a blush start to color my cheeks. Okay game on baby.

We all end up dispersing after a while and I start walking around all the warm bodies, being extra careful to avoid my face touching anyone’s exposed skin. That was extra hard when you’re in a club so I decided to just take a step out onto the balcony. Spying through the doors, I took in breaths of sobering air and watched as Jordan easily flirted with a group of girls.

Fuck Vought and fuck my dad for this stupid power. I turned towards the ivy growing over the balcony railing and without a second thought I ripped off my gloves and pressed my palms to the stems.

Life thrummed through my veins, I sucked it in deeper and deeper until I finally reached the roots of the ivy. I felt them start to rot away and die as my power crept into every crevice and cell. Stealing away vitality. Suddenly I was wrenched away from my ivy killing by high pitched screaming. I leave for a single second…

Quickly pulling on my gloves I looked into the chaos that was created over a woman’s body whose throat was punctured by a tiny metal hummingbird. Andre you fucking idiot.

Calculating how to get out of the club without actually having to go through the chaos I saw a few window sills that would easily get me close enough to the fire escape on the next building.

Using my supe strength I jumped between each sill until I was near the fire escape. Taking a few deep breaths in and out I jumped and let gravity take over. It was a few seconds of bliss before my entire body slammed against the hard metal railing with a resounding bang. Goddamit sometimes I wish that I got pain tolerance when I was injected with V.

The next few steps down were easy and I was able to get to street level and disappear into the night without getting noticed. My phone dinged as I started putting on my headphones and I looked down to find that I had been added to a group chat:

(possibly Cate Dunlap): vic you good?

you sort of disappeared

we’re on our way back to GodU.

Me: yup all good

god Andre u need to be more careful.

A.A.: u don’t think I know that

u need us to pick u up?

Me: that would be appreciated

*you have now enabled geotracker with the group*

(possibly Jordan Li): see you in a bit!

Waking up after a night out was a bitch. Carefully maneuvering out of bed without activating my headache too much was even more of a challenge.

“You good there?” I heard a shout loud enough to rattle my very soul reverberating through the room.

“Fuck Gemma a little quieter please.” Her laugh twinkled in the air but even it's usually nice sound zapped my brain.

“I thought supes didn’t get hangovers.”

“Yeah they don’t- it was all the people.” And the experimental Vought pill I felt like saying.

“Oh shit yeah sorry.”

“Right, I'm going to have a shower.” Gingerly grabbing my shower essentials I picked my way through the already busy hall. Communal showers sucked.

Thankfully, 3 coffees later I finally started to feel a little more like myself. Andre had made me promise last night that I would have to help him with some power drink promotion. So off to commons I went, the sun seemed to burn my eyelids so a pair of slim blue lenses adorned my face. The shade perfectly matched my gloves.

What I didn’t expect to find outside the school of crimefighting was Luke. Completely flamed out and Andre stepped closer and closer to him. My eyes widened and I started running - the blue gloves were torn off and I nearly collided with Marie when Luke (thank the universe) stopped flaming out.

“What… Marie, what is going on?”

“I- I found him murdering Brink.” If my eyes widened any further I was pretty sure my eyeballs would quite literally jump out of my head.

“WHAT?” I turned towards Luke again to find that he had started walking away from Andre, muttering apologies under his breath. I could identify that crazed look in his eyes. He knew he was cornered and he didn’t want to run anymore.

Luke started flaming out and suddenly flew up into the sky… only to make himself completely explode. Blood, guts, muscle, bones and brains started raining down.

The ‘materials’ that managed to touch my uncovered face and hands thrummed with power. That was strange. It was as if they were still alive somehow. The cells oozed energy.

My power started to immediately absorb whatever life-force the cells had remaining and then I felt a foreign kind of ache. It felt like a cold burn spreading all over my hands and my face, bringing my palm up to my face. I was surprised to see a tiny flame start to sputter on.

What the actual fuck?

did you know that human cells can stay alive for hours and sometimes even days after you die? so yes the ending makes sense - I did research. also Vic has never "absorbed" another supe before - her mom was human.... so we shall see how that affects her hehe.

if you want to be added to the taglist lmk!!

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sleepy-wyvern · 1 year

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Method Acting | Jack Champion x female!Reader

First pic jacks insta, Second pic

Available on: AO3, Wattpad

Summary: You’re an actress playing Ethan Landry's lover so you and Jack Champion start “fake dating” to help your role for Scream 6. Although you detest the idea of love you can’t help but start falling for his charm. At what point is it real, what is fake, and what is acting? Surely he can’t feel the same way… right?

A/N: This fic is intended to be a romance for my babes depressed you can’t be with your favorite celebrity right now, who are so in love with them it hurts. This fic does not contain descriptive sex scenes but does contain descriptive make out! There are clear references to sex as they film a sex scene!

Dedication: This fic is dedicated to (and inspired by a prompt from) my loyal reader over on ao3, Vanttier. Thanks for all of the comments without you I wouldn't be so motivated to write💙

Disclaimer: All characters sharing names with real people in this work are fictional characters I created and are not intended to reflect the views/opinions/actions of the real actors. I know absolutely nothing about acting or movie making so this is all improvised and likely not accurate at all. The point isn’t to be accurate but just for fun so please be gentle 💙

NOTICE: This fic is based off of the Love Interest, you don't have to read it to understand this fic but this fic contains spoilers for that one, so if you want to read an overprotective!ethan landry x female!reader go check that out out first on AO3 or Wattpad!

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FIC ARE 18+!!! MINORS DNI!

“Jack Champion,” the name hummed over and over in your head. He was the one to play the role of your lover and today you were to meet him.

To be honest you weren’t sure that you ever wanted to play a part in a cheesy romance movie. Horror had your heart and you were such a big fan of scream that it was impossible to turn down the role. That and your manager would have your ass for turning down such a legendary role most would only ever dream of.

You weren’t sure how you felt going from a nobody actor to an A-list movie star overnight practically. It really wasn’t something you ever thought of. Sure you dreamt of it from time to time, especially when you were little and your mother held you by the hand to bring you to various auditions as a child. You never thought it would actually happen and never really desired it either. You had fun acting and being in movies bringing characters to life but you were content with just enough to get by.

The only problem with this gig was it was a romantic role and you despised the concept of love. What was the point of it and why was the world so obsessed with it? When all love stories end in tragedy if you wait long enough.

Still, a role was a role. You’ve kissed people on set for movies before with small relationships on screen but never the main romantic protagonist. Especially for being the first movie protagonist without Neve Campbell there were big shoes to fill and surely your social media would be flooded with hate and undesired criticism. Frankly, you would’ve turned down the role in a heartbeat if it wasn’t your favourite franchise.

Anyways, today was the day you were to meet Jack, running through your lines together in the first scene where your character meets his; Ethan Landry. Nerdy cute boy who held a deep dark secret.

Jack was the same age as you, 18, but he had practically grown up on set, and while you were familiar with it since a child you had mainly worked on smaller, more indie films until somehow being noticed. So it was more than a little daunting to meet him, compared to you he was a professional. So were you nervous to meet him? More than a little.

You practically held your breath as the door opened, doing your best to keep looking at your lap as he stepped through the door. How long should I wait until looking…? You wondered.

“Jack,” the script-manager stood to their feet, going to meet him.

You stood to your feet allowing yourself to give him a glance over while he was shaking hands. You’ve seen him in photos where he looked pretty much like a generic gym guy. In person though he was much softer. He looked nerdy and cute with his curly fluffy hair but clearly his toned frame underneath made you feel a little intimidated. First impressions were important, especially with your destined lover.

You fluttered your eyelashes a little shy as his brown eyes looked into yours. The moment he spoke you realized that despite your nerves he was adorable and sweet, seemingly awkward but that just added to it.

“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Jack.” The words were simple but as he held his hand out to yours his voice seemed to hum through your body.

Your eyes catch for a moment on the metal chain around his neck as you move your hand to his. His grip was just firm enough as if he noticed how timid you were.

His eyes seemed to shine in the light while you spoke “Hey, I’m y/n but you probably already know that.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you wonder if you unintentionally came off way too cocky. He seemed to find it amusing though as he let out a small chuckle.

The director seemed to find this a good sign as they glanced between us “good, you’re acquainted. Are you ready?”

It dawned on you again that this was the guy you were going to be having to do sex scenes with.

“Yeah, I think so,” his voice answered and you were too afraid that if you tried to speak a squeak would come out of your throat instead.

“Don’t worry,” his voice was softer than you expected, he must've noticed your nerves. “I don’t bite.”

“But do you stab?” You found yourself wide eyed and he laughed; the sound hummed through your entire body again, swirling around your heart like silk.

“Sometimes,” he replied slyly and you mirrored his smile, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a black Stabathon shirt that seemed to frame his body perfectly.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on the character you were to play. She was meant to reflect on the average female viewer of the movie and an insertion of the average scream horror fan. It was a total “I can fix him” plot line with a cheesy romance of a girl stopping a boy from being a mass murderer. Completely unrealistic and if anything just plain bad advice, if you felt like living anyways. Still, you liked her and her strength in the script especially towards the end.

Your nerves were still fluttering when you sat across from Jack at the table. You didn’t realize how tightly you held the paper script until you noticed there were wrinkles in the corners.

Relax, y/n. Nothing you haven’t done before and nothing you can’t handle.

Amongst all of the stress with Jack you almost forgot your other co stars were there too including Devyn. She was to be Anika, your Instagram model roommate. Essentially the polar opposite of who you were to play; you were someone who wore horror movie shirts and ripped jeans while she was always trendy. You were thankful for the comfortable wardrobe at least. Even though your characters were totally different, you grew together that way encouraging growth and adventure.

“Hey, y/n,” Devyn had a sweet smile and comforting aura about her that you enjoyed.

“Hey,” you smiled softly.

“Ready?” Jack asked. He was looking at you intently and you forgot how to form words for a second.

Devyn glanced between you both and it took all of your willpower to not blush. It felt like everyone at the table was thinking about the same thing: the fact that you two were going to have to have sex together.

You nod though with wide scared eyes “as I’ll ever be.”

Devyn laughed leaning over to touch your arm gently.

Someone read out loud the setting and you weren’t sure who. Your eyes were reading your first line over and over in your head. When it came your turn to speak though the words came easy. At least with Devyn aka Anika it had. She made it feel like you were already best friends and roommates. She suggested you room together too to help even further.

The wandering thoughts somehow helped distract you from the guy sitting across from you, puzzling over his script like it was a crossword. It took all of your strength to ignore the way his muscles flexed when he moved.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. There will be lots of boys there.” Devyns voice next to you piped up “you like boys right?”

“Sometimes,” you said with a sly undertone the exact way Jack had said to you earlier. The idea had popped into your head the moment before you said your line, and although you were looking at Devyn you felt him look up from his script with a smile.

While you did take the tone and attitude from him, it was your head-canon that your character was bisexual even though the line likely just meant that she wasn’t interested in the types of boys these parties attracted.

The next lines seemed to come more naturally as you played off one another. She was the encouraging roommate trying to get the shy one to go with her to the party. Really Anika was a great friend to your character and you admired that, perhaps wished you had it yourself.

When you reach the scene where you both pour a glass of alcohol you find yourself wishing you had one, knowing it was soon to be the first dialogue between you and Jack.

You effortlessly deterred the fuckboy in the script that was later to harass Tara when you found your heart started to race, pounding louder and louder in your eardrums.

“What kind of boys do you like then?” Anika asked.

“Cute, nerdy, fluffy haired boys,” you answered. The words came naturally because it was true for you too. You avoided looking across the table.

“Ah, the first murder suspects.” She replied and you wondered how your character didn’t take the hint then and there. “Well, let’s drink to you finding a boyfriend. Or at least some good dick.”

She held up her water bottle to you and you laughed genuinely, doing the same as you clinked your bottles.

“Perfect,” the script director commented while you drank.

Out of the corner of your eye though as you drank you met his gaze, forgetting your unspoken rule to not look across the table. Brown and soft, his eyes made you feel like there was no one else in the room except you both. Your heart seemed to catch in your throat as he smiled softly.

Too quickly the moment had passed though as someone’s voice narrating the scene popped the bubble you shared together. You looked down at your script biting your lip knowing what was to come.

Jasmin had spoken up for her first dialogue with you as Mindy. Her voice was very different when she acted, more confident and cocky as her character was especially about horror movies. You knew your character couldn’t compete with her on trivia but she had the same adoration for horror. The lines of your shy character came easy, especially with your genuine discomfort with romantic relationships.

But now you knew it was time. Your first lines with Jack.

While Anika and Mindy have their playful conversation you imagine being there at the party. Loud sounds, people talking, constant movements and noise. Usually you would try to avoid letting yourself feel this anxious but it was important for the script.

You imagined yourself flopping against the old college couch as the script manager narrated.

Jack's voice was suddenly different, softer this time and more nervous as he looked at you but not into your eyes as if suddenly nervous.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere than here,” he said with a cautious smile.

“Yeah, well, you’re not far off.” Part of you wondered if you were having a real conversation or were acting. “I’d rather be watching scary movies. I'm only here because Anika invited me,” and because your manager would kill you if you turned down this opportunity.

“Me too,” his eyes sparkled as he looked at you before glancing down to his lap “oh, uh, I mean about the scary movie part.”

“Oh yeah?” Despite your character's confidence you felt your arms start to shake, trying your best to suppress it. “What one’s?”

You found yourself leaning across the table pressing your elbows into the sturdy wood to hide your shaking. You held your head in your hands as if actually on a date with him, curiosity mixed with shyness. A date with Jack Champion…

“Slashers,” he admitted, only making careful glances into your eyes as his character Ethan would. Jack gestured to his Stabathon shirt playfully and it took all of your being to not giggle.

You channel your laughter into excitement for your line “I love slashers! They’re like my comfort movies.”

Somehow, some way, he started to make you feel more comfortable just sitting here talking to him.

“I would’ve panned you for more a Quentin Tarantino fan,” he admitted and you remembered you were supposed to be dressed as Mia Wallace.

“Oh don’t worry, I am. D’Jango? Kill Bill? How could I not be!” You exclaimed “you have me there. Slashers though, they have my heart, truly. Just I couldn’t turn down an opportunity to dress as Uma Thurman.”

“Understandable, pulp fiction is what really got me into movies.” He smiled looking into your eyes the steadiest he has since reading the script. “What’s your favourite slasher?”

“Hmm, I have to say stab.” When you answer Jack's face turns into surprise and shock as he gestured playfully to his shirt again.

“Really?” He says with eyebrows raised and you swallow your laughter.

Talking to him was so… natural. So fun as you bounced off of each other's lines so effortlessly. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as difficult as you thought it would be.

In fact when the narrator started reading the scuffle between Sam and the fuckboy you started looking forward to more small talk with him, something you normally dreaded.

“Hey,” you whisper to Jack loud enough for the others to hear. He leaned forward across the table playfully as if to listen to your secret “uh, how about that movie?”

Mason, who played Chad, looked at Jack with an impressed gasp. Devyn did the same to you but hers was more shock that melted into approval.

“Y-yeah, I’d love to,” for some reason hearing Jack stutter made something stir in your stomach.

That’s when you realize the racing in your heart, the way your cheeks heated when you looked at him and the light fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

No. No way I was in love with Jack Champion. No, no, no, no. Your thoughts buzz and spiral as you recite your lines. This can’t be happening.

“Wonderful,” the director praised as the scene ended, “If I didn’t know any better I could’ve sworn you were actually nervous with a crush on Jack,” he chuckled.

You felt Jack’s brown eyes on you as you looked at the director, swallowing hard before you spoke “thanks. I practiced.”

CONTINUE READING ON: AO3, Wattpad

===

Thanks so much for reading, read the rest over on AO3 or wattpad!

Hope you enjoyed and had a great day my lovely reader!

-Wyv

💙💙💙💙

#jack champion #jack champion imagine #jack champion x female!reader #jack champion x reader #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x female!reader #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream vi #scream 6 spoilers #scream vi spoilers #jack champion x actress!reader #fake dating

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nogenderbee · 26 days

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦- ℕ𝕆 𝕎𝔸𝕀𝕋 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @nenes-numberonefan request: HELLOOO

ima request the same thing i requested @/mizu-nights but i’m a silly goose and i wanna see everyone’s style of writing

basically can i request rui, nene and tsukasa x reader (separate) and they have a platonic relationship with our beloved y/n but then they accidentally confess their love to the reader, sort of like the verse “the time is right your perfume fills my head the stars are red and oh the nights so blue, and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you ❤️” from the song something stupid. thank youuu xxxxxx love youuuuuu 😍😍😍🥶😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍(very hyper rn)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ HIIII!! Yeah absolutely! I don't tho songfics normally tho, so I just based on your description and hopefully that's gonna be good enough!

But omg, the moment I saw this, I wanted to run to mizu-nights and read it because I apparently missed this fic- but NOPE I didn't wanted to accidentally write the same thing sooo I held myself back ^^

I totally did not copy lines from event for Tsukasa part-

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

Affiliation with @virtualbookstore

You've agreed to help Tsukasa with practicing for his upcoming performance, Romeo&Julia. He got the role of Romeo while his other friend from troupe got Julia. He just wanted someone to help him get that feeling of saying it right to soemone's face and... maybe he had planned something more too?

"O Juliet! Sun of my life! I beg of you, allow me your fair hand in marriage!!"

He was now on his one knee, holding your hand like pure gentleman with his left hand. This made you both happy and regretful for agreeing to help him... it's obviously very sweet to see him like this but it's also not helping your feelings for him... and you could swear you're blushing...

"Sweet Y/N...!"

But then he said your name... and you finally looked at him just to see him clearly in state of daydreaming, not stopping reciting next lines, so you had to stop him before he gives more hints than you can handle!

"Wait, wait... wasn't the second main character's name Juliet? Why did you say my name...?"

His face immidietly gained red hue and his hand didn't stop holding your gently. His eyes still looked focused on yours as if he haven't woke up from his dreamland, but his words told you his state was something completely else than you imagined...

"Y-Yes I know..."

You could only stare at him in slight shock... you didn't knew what to say and so did he. He was barely holding himself from turning it into a play someway... but he repeated one sentence in his head, "go big or go home", if he blurted it out, might as well go along?

"O Y/N, sun of my life, I beg of you, allow me to take you on a date!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bad-the-an-enjoyer @yulikesminori @alicewinterway18 @nenes-numberonefan - come get your future star!

You and Nene were hanging out on a rooftop at Kamiyama. Even if you're from Miyamasuzaka, let's say Emu teached you a trick or two~ So either way, you can enjoy your time with your dear friend!

You leaned in, wanting to see what she's playing and for once, instead of seeing shooting or rhythm game, you found her playing some... visual novel? Or was it otome game?

"Hey Nene? Are you playing... otome game?"

"Mhm, yeah."

She responded, clearly way into the game to process what she's saying. But that never was a problem for you since she still responded and was honest if anything when she was in this state.

"Look, you can even name your love interest~"

You looked at the screen with even more interest and saw 2 names... "Nene" and "Y/N". You get why her name would be here but yours? Were you... no way, right?

"Is... is Y/N the name of your... ingame love interest?"

"Yeah, real love interest too."

She finally looked up from her phone right at you with this soft and charming smile, when she saw your blush she was even confused for a second! Untill she realized... she just blurted it out, didn't she?

"Oh- uh- I mean... not like... Like..."

Now it was her blushing like crazy not knowing what to say... she was clearly between 2 thoguhts and had no idea which to choose... oh did you know it was all about if she should tell you the truth or a lie...

"Am I actually~?"

You couldn't help but encourage her a bit, hoping to hear the truth. If she actually saw YOU as the love interest, the real one! Or... if it's just a misunderstanding...

And luckily, you didn't had to wait for long because right after your question, she gave you a little nod, easy to miss if you blinked... but her blushing face and the way she looked away would tell you it either way~

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bl4cktourmaline @nenes-numberonefan - come get your shy gamer~

Rui has texted you he forgot his coat from his house. And you as good friend, agreed to bring it to Pheonix Wonderland. He made sure you get a free ticket after all! So how could you say no to free fun at amusement park AND helping out your dear friend?

When you finally arrived at the Wonder Stage, you saw him tinkering with the robot, untill he heard someone's footsteps... his mood immidietly lighting up once he saw it's you!

"You're finally here! And I see you got my coat with you~ I can't express how glad I am for your help~"

"Don't mention it! You offered me a free ticket for that so how could I've said now?!"

He chuckled and finally came over to get his coat back, which you gave him back. And in another second, he had it on!

"But still, you're a great person for bringing it to me at THIS HOUR."

"Awh~ Don't you melt here or I'm gonna melt too!"

You couldn't brush off how sweet it was and opened your arms for quick friendly hug, since you clearly had a bit of appreciation moment going on.

"No, I mean it... you're such a sweetheart... I really couldn't avoid falling for you~"

"Huh-? What?"

After your questioning, he finally got a hang of himself pulling away with faint blush, clearly not knowing what to do. But his first reflex was to lie...

"I-I mean..."

But he seemed to stop himself... he realized lying would only make it last longer... so he decided to pull himself together, take big breath in and take the risk.

"Yes... I'm really sorry. I'm aware this is probably gonna break our friendship but... I indeed did fell for you..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @yulikesminori @toyaswif3y @bl4cktourmaline @r4wrclwz @superstar-ethereal - come get your crazy inventor~

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wallwriterstuff · 6 months

Text

A Little Blood Never Scared Me ||Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Female!Reader||

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption/drunkenness. Descriptions of injury, blood and violence. Descriptions of the disconnect between being home and being out in the field. A few swear words and so much fluff near the end your teeth will rot.

Tags: Written (very late, sorry!) for @glitterypirateduck 's October 141 writing challenge because I currently have an unhealthy obsession with Modern Warfare. Prompts used include 2 characters (Gaz and Price), Damsel in Distress, and Taking Care of Each other.

Words: 4091

Summary: It can be difficult to readjust to civilian life without appropriate distractions. Or - the story of how Gaz can't help but play the role of knight in shining armor despite being on leave and meets the best distraction yet.

It’s never easy to come home and rejoin the real world.

Out in the middle of some war-torn territory it’s easy to forget how…mundane, it all is. When he exchanges the hard smoothness of his rifle for the hard smoothness of a whisky tumbler at the local pub it all feels very surreal. There’s nothing more foreign than the flimsy weight of a kitchen knife when your used to a combat blade. Hell, even his nose keeps twitching because the shower gel he uses at home isn’t the same as the standard issue soaps he’s used to at the barracks. He’s gone from scentless to being a human Yankee candle and it’s making his skin crawl almost as much as the clattering of pool balls, pinging in his ears like the deafening roar of a mortar strike. That being said, the burn in his throat is a welcome distraction, as is the company. Price has a way of putting it all into perspective he’s just yet to master and if Kyle has chosen him as his own personal Obi-wan, well, Price doesn’t need to know.

“You called your mum yet?” He asks him, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smirks a bit at Kyle’s obvious wince. Shaking his head, the younger man taps his fingers against the side of his tumbler before lifting it to his lips. He pauses, briefly, eyes lifting to meet piercing, amused blue.

“Will when I’m ready, you know what she’s like.” He sips, savouring the grounding burn in the back of his throat. With his glass safely back on the table he lifts his cap, running a hand over his hair. It’s grown uncomfortable long, definitely not as short as he usually has it, but maybe that’s just him being overly aware of the regulations he doesn’t need to adhere to as much on leave. Price grunts a bit in acknowledgement, watching his sergeant carefully, and Kyle hates the feeling that somehow, he’s being looked through instead of at. Price has always been good at that to, the man’s instincts borderline supernatural, at least in Kyle’s opinion.

“Worrying about her son? How dare she.” There’s not a hint of mockery in Price’s voice but the underlying message is clear to Kyle. Get your head right and call your mother, you prick.

“Think she’s more worried about my sister at this point, what with her due and all.” Kyle deflects him from the crux of the matter with practiced ease, but he knows he only gets away with it because Price lets him. He’s not really sure he wants to delve too deeply into the idea that home feels like coarse sand in his boots and the smell of gunpowder instead of the plush carpets and excessive luxury of a 60-inch TV screen in his apartment.

“Due already? Thought she’d only just got knocked up?” Price’s eyes flicker about, tracking something over his shoulder. Kyle immediately feels his hackles raise but the subtle stiffening of his muscles is something he just about manages to push away with another admittedly large sip of his drink. It’s only someone exiting the bathroom.

“Watch it, might be my Captain but that’s my sister you’re talking about.” He warns lightly. Price grins a bit. Kyle let’s his eyes slide over the pub. They’ve chosen a table off to the side, tucked out of the way of prying eyes in such a position that let’s them see the entire room – not even Price can kick that instinct. There’s a middle-aged couple that appear to be on a date in the corner booth, smiling and ignorant of the world around them. A few rowdy regulars that the bartender dotes on at the dartboard let out another cheer as someone hits something remarkably close to a bullseye. It’s a bog-standard pub all in all, from the exposed wooden beams to the threadbare carpet that reeks of long-spilled booze and something that attempted to clean the spill. Nothing here to fear.

“She ready for the little one to arrive?” Price asks the question as if he has any way of knowing the answer. The disconnect between him and his family after months away is just as surreal to him as the prospect of cooking his own meals again rather than ripping open an MRE and praying it was somewhat edible this time. Price leads the conversation with the mastery of knowing the steps to the dance. It’s an easy routine, a simple one, and it brings him more comfort than he dares say. There’s aimless chatter and there’s noise but not too much noise, a good drink, and a warm atmosphere that almost, almost, mimics the heat of whatever godforsaken dessert he’s traipsed through this time. It’s grounding and mundane and a slow ease back into the reality of what everyday life tends to be when you aren’t being shot at or hanging from helicopters. By the time their three drinks in, Kyle feels less like a rattle snake coiled to strike and a little more human again.

The group at the dartboard have only gotten rowdier, and they’ve stumbled their way back over to the bar for another round. A shared glance is all it takes for Kyle to know this will be their last drink tonight, better to leave before anything kicks off amongst the herd of drunken fools and sets them back into fight or flight mode.

“I’ll call my Mum tomorrow.” Kyle relents finally, meeting Price’s eyes for a tad longer than necessary just to show he means it.

Price gives an approving nod, “Good lad.”

He glances over at the group at the bar, the boisterous laughter turning his head as he watches a woman gingerly skirt her way around them to head for the bathrooms. His eyes narrow in distaste as a particularly loud wolf-whistle makes your head duck and your pace increase. He understands their attraction, you’re easy on the eyes, but you clearly don’t want to be bothered either and he can see the flush on your cheeks is just as much down to embarrassment as it is alcohol consumption.

“Alright, who’s paying then?” He asks, tearing his eyes from your figure once he knows your safely tucked in the ladies out of their eyesight. Price tips his head, reaching for his wallet and producing a coin.

“Call it.”

“Tails.” Kyle’s response is immediate, eyes keenly tracking the coin as Price flips it. Judging by the disapproving grunt and the mild annoyance in his eyes, Price has lost this round, and he can’t stop the smug grin twitching his lips upwards. It falls quickly as he hears the hollering from the crowd at the bar.

“Go on son!”

“Get some!”

“Don’t fumble it mate!”

From the corner of his eye he sees a tall brunette man stumbling his way from the bar, and something about the look in his eyes sets him on edge. It’s almost predatory in nature, the kind of look that you see in nature documents as predators stalk their prey, and he twists his body instinctually to face the oncoming threat before he even fully comprehends what the threat is. He’s not sure what about this drunk buffoon sets him so on edge but he learned early on in his career that trusting your gut was usually the safest option. That and the idiot does look like a bit of a dick.

“Might come up with you to the bar anyway.” He says.

“Suit yourself.” Price’s voice is calm, unbothered, but it’s as natural and easy as breathing to Kyle to put himself as one more barrier between a potential threat and a friend. Neither of them even has a chance to get up from their seats before three things seem to happen at once.

1, you emerge from the bathroom.

2, the brunette man from the bar trips over his own feet.

3, the pair of you collide and create some cosmic chain of knock-on collisions that Kyle has only half a second to decide whether or not he can stop or if he just has to embrace it.

If he doesn’t want a broken wrist, embracing it seems to be his best option.

Fate deposits you in his lap not a second later, ribs cracking painfully against the tabletop and your hand slapping into his glass, even as he tries his best to steady you. You’re both covered in beer from the brunette guy’s drink as it sloshes from the pint glass and onto your clothes, and Kyle wrinkles his nose a bit against the sudden yeasty smell. There’s a sharp cry from both fallen parties and a soft grunt from him as your arse lands not so gently on more delicate areas of his body, but despite the jolt of pain in his thigh and wrists he’s otherwise doing far better than you, though he thinks you’re a bit too shell-shocked from the fall to recognise there’s blood dripping from your hand.

“Way to go Mark!”

“Fumbled it mate!”

The rowdy bar crew irk him more than he lets on as Price hauls up the idiot, Mark. His face is red from a mixture of alcohol, embarrassment, and anger, anger he swiftly lets loose on the three people in front of him. Price holds his hands up in surrender as Mark shirks him off rather violently, almost falling again when he twists too hard and quick in his uncoordinated state.

“Ge’off! You! You made me spill my beer!” The accusing finger pointed your way seems to snap you from your stupor and you wriggle out of Kyle’s gentle grip with wide eyes.

“I didn’t – what?” Your voice is a pitched squeak of disbelief and shock. Kyle stands, grabbing a wad of napkins to press it against your wound. “Ow! Hey! What the – oh my god…” You stare wide-eyed at the rivulet of blood rolling down your arm. It’s soaking through the napkins quicker than Kyle would like.

“Keep your arm up, above your heart. You won’t have hit anything major, it’s just the alcohol thinning your blood.” He reassures you, keeping his touch light and unintrusive. You could easily push his hand away but you don’t, surprised Y/E/C eyes flickering up meet his own.

“You even listenin’ to me you little bitch? I said you owe me another drink!” Mark’s words are so slurred that another drink is clearly a terrible decision for him.

“Oi, leave the lady in peace.” Price suggests. Knowing his Captain has him handled Kyle focuses his attention on you, gently moving the bloodied napkin from your palm. It sticks a bit, and you wince as the coarse material comes free of your broken skin.

“Sorry, sorry…you’re going to need stitches.” He informs you. There’s a jagged line that won’t stop pumping red, the flesh torn open with a glint of glass inside.

“Stitches? Oh no, not needles. I – shit I feel dizzy.” You turn whiter than a sheet at the thought and Kyle’s quick to adjust his grip on you to help you sit, keeping your arm elevated while you put your head between your knees.

“Easy, deep breaths, you’re going to be alright,” he crouches beside you, hearing Price and Mark squaring off behind him, “I’m Kyle. Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Y/N.” your voice is a little weak. “Sorry for, you know, sitting on you.” Kyle chuckles a little at that, glancing up as Price hands him a towel. Price has angled himself between you two and the drunken fool as his friends come to collect him.

“Don’t worry about it, glad you landed on me and not the table.” He focuses on wrapping the towel around your hand, apologising quietly when the pressure makes you wince.

“Oh no, I landed on that to. I landed on all the things.” You groan a bit, good hand massaging your ribs. Kyle grimaces slightly.

“Can I check nothings broken?” he offers. You look up at him, search his gaze for any ill-intent, and then you nod. He makes sure to give you a reassuring smile as his hand finds your side, fingers gently applying pressure and watching your face for any signs of discomfort. It feels more intimate than is appropriate for a first meeting but your nerves bottle before his does and you look away with pink cheeks, which is a feat in itself because Kyle had been sure you’d lost a bit too much blood to blush like that.

“But she owes me a beer!” Mark is still insistent, even as his friends try to drag him away. Kyle huffs, annoyed now as he glances back at him over his shoulder.

“She owes you about as much as any other woman on the planet. Nothing. Now piss off and sober up mate.” There’s enough warning in his voice that Mark’s more sober friends hurry to comply with the thinly veiled threat.

“You got anyone who can get you to hospital love?” Price asks, standing as still as stone until he’s sure there’s no chance of Mark making his way back to you. Kyle keeps the pressure on your hand, seeing a bit more alertness to your eyes now.

“No, no we’ve both had something to drink.” You grimace, looking at Kyle with big doe eyes he finds more endearing than he’d care to admit. “Do I really need stitches?”

“Yeah, you do, and for someone to pick the glass out the wound,” Kyle’s smile is a tad sympathetic now, “But the good news is your ribs aren’t broken. You may have landed on all the things but you’re not too bad off for it.” His light teasing brings a twitch of a smile to your lips, a smile that quickly falls as Price questions if you have friends or a partner here to go with you. Though your eyes search the pub thoroughly, they fill with frustration and regret when you see no familiar face in sight.

“No…I was on a date,” you look a bit embarrassed to admit it, “Guess he snuck out while I was in the bathroom.” Kyle tilts his head slightly, carefully helping you to stand when you attempt it.

“More fool him, look at all the fun he could be having.” He says it just to see you smile, enjoying the tinkling of your laughter in his ears.

“Oh, bucket loads right? Christ…that stings.” Your smile falls away into a wince again, and though he knows he’ll get shit for it later from Soap when Price inevitably tells him, he can’t stop the offer from tumbling out of his mouth.

“I’ll go with you then.”

You sigh, “It’s okay, really, no need to ruin your night any more than I have.”

“Who said you’d ruined my night? Come on, let’s get you seen to.” He’s already gently guiding you out of the pub with Price on your other side, knowing you’re likely to protest anyway from the look on your face. You pause only to grab a jacket from your table before the cold night air envelopes you, Kyle keeping your arm up and sticking close to ensure your warm enough – the last thing he wants is you going into shock on him.

“Are you sure?” you ask for the hundredth time. Kyle silences you with a single look that has a shudder crawling up your spine, one he can feel ripple into him since you’re standing so close, and he feels a little smug at the reaction he gets from you. He’s seen your eyes lingering once or twice to, and he’s starting to thank whatever’s watching over him the evening took this turn.

“Gaz!” Price calls his name and Kyle turns to see him standing, holding open the door of a cab not 50 yards down the road. Bundled in the back of a cab that’s probably breaking a few speeding laws to get you both to a nearby hospital, he feels those instincts tugging at the back of his mind, trying to claw him back into work mode. There’s blood, there was the threat of violence, and it’s got all of his hackles raised a bit, even though he’s trying to be soft with you. You’re clearly in pain and still a little shocked by the nights events and he doesn’t want to be too stoic or too harsh and make it worse, so he focuses on the gentle smell of your perfume and the softness of your hair tickling the side of his face. It crosses his mind then you might be uncomfortable with his proximity, and he subtly tries to shift away only to find you follow him, naturally wanting more of his warmth as the blood loss and shock make you feel cold.

“Just to be clear, I don’t usually do this.” You say softly. Kyle glances at you with a raised eyebrow, your voice and the rumbling purr of the engine is all quiet and helps soothe some of his louder thoughts right now.

“You don’t usually bleed all over strangers at the pub? A shame, I was looking for someone who shared my hobby.” He tries to joke, feeling a bit rusty and out of practice, and realises too late how goddamn creepy that probably sounded. He’s thankful to hear your quiet laughter.

“No, well, yes, I don’t do that either, but I meant hopping into cabs with strangers.” You nudge his side lightly with your elbow and he relaxes a little more.

“We exchanged names and I’m covered in your blood, not sure we can call ourselves strangers anymore, more like…strange acquaintances.” He suggests. You hum in agreement at that, and you lapse back into silence with him once more. It’s a strangely comfortable one, but then again Kyle’s never really been a man of many words. He keeps half an eye on the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the pallor of your skin. Your bathed intermittently in warm orange light from the street-lights outside, and his breath hitches a little in his chest. Maybe it’s been a little too long since he was allowed to think of anything other than what the next target is, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the opportunity to admire the way your long lashes brush your cheeks, or the perfectly shaped outline of full, painted lips.

“Thank you, for coming with me.” You look up at him, your smile so sweet it makes his stomach flip. It really isn’t the best of circumstances, he knows so, but he rarely gets the chance to charm a pretty woman and, well, your night’s been a bit shit, so he feels obligated to cheer you up some.

“When a pretty woman falls into your lap, you’d be amiss to pass up the opportunity to play knight in beer-stained armour.” He chuckles. He’s taking most of the weight of your arm but he ignores the discomfort in his own. Your eyes are pinched with pain, and he can only imagine how badly your sliced palm must be throbbing, knowing from his own encounters with combat knives how deeply the sting of a cut can run.

“Bold of you to assume I’m a damsel in distress. I sliced open my hand perfectly well without your help.” You quip back. Kyle grins. You’ve got a wicked tongue and the wit of the devil. As the cab pulls up, he tips the driver an extra £20 before helping you into the accident and emergency ward. It’s crammed wall to wall, every chair full and an excess of patients standing around, and the strong burn of disinfectant in his nose has him taking slightly shallower breaths to avoid the smell as best he can. You look even paler under the fluorescent lighting and he’s determined to get you seen to quickly, the bright red of the blood-soaked towel on your hand standing out starkly in this pristine white place.

You give your name and details, checking in with the receptionist who looks at your hand like she wishes it would disappear from her line of sight, and then your led to an over-flow waiting room where there’s a chair hurriedly snapped open for you and the promise of a nurse seeing you quickly. Kyle crouches beside you again, looking over the mess of blood and beer on the pretty dress you’d been wearing that night, and quietly wonders how your date found enough faults in you to run out. For the five minutes he’s known you Kyle’s found you to be attractive and quick-witted, a good sense of humour, so he can’t imagine the conversation was that bad.

“Do you want some water?” he offers, thumb jerking to the water cooler not too far away. You nod a bit and leaves you with your hand raised to go fetch you both a cup. He watches you sip it slowly and he does the same, eyes flickering to find all the nearest exits out of habit. You’re like a magnet though, a beacon burning brightly in the night, and he finds his gaze quickly drawn back to you. The bubble you two have created is one of quiet comfort, the kind that warm blankets on cold days provides and is found in the deep hearts of forests or the embers of dying fires.

“This really doesn’t bother you, does it?” you question, pulling him from his thoughts. He glances up at you from his spot crouched beside you, head cocking. “This. Blood, hospital trips, confrontation. You’ve been completely unphased by this from the start.” You elaborate on your thoughts and Kyle finds himself blinking in surprise, adding the word observant into the file with your name on that he’s starting to compile in his mind. He’s almost reluctant to say what he knows is the answer to your unspoken question, knowing it’s often a crossroads for all relationships waiting to form in his life. He doesn’t want to give up the soothing balm that is you just yet. There’s just enough intrigue to make him want to know more, and yet he braces himself for the rejection he’s sure is inevitable from such a sweet thing as you.

“I’m a soldier.” He almost holds his breath once the truths out. The rest of the sentence can remain unspoken, you don’t need him to tell you of the horrors and misery he’s seen, everyone knows what soldiers see even if they don’t talk about it. You surprise him once more.

“Ah, I see.” The quiet acknowledgement is just that, a statement of fact that promises he’s been heard without delivering judgement, and he feels there’s hope he might still have a chance at knowing you.

“That bother you?” he just has to be sure.

You smile a bit, “Depends, are you here because you’re duty bound to protect innocent civilians?”

His head tilts a bit; he sees that inquisitive little gleam in your eyes, a spark of interest, and he catches it quick with the intent of nurturing that spark into roaring flame. His head’s completely quiet now. He feels like he can go back to the silence at home and survive it if only your voice fills the empty space instead.

“No…here because I think that what tonight’s shown me, is your hand fits nicely in mine.” The line is absolutely terrible and he knows it, but the way you fluster and smile at the ground has his own grin widening. When the nurse calls your name, you look up to her, then back at him, biting your lip. For the first time that night, you don’t try to be brave, you let him see your apprehension and offer him your good hand, wanting him to come with you.

“Prove it.” You say.

Kyle does, and when he returns to his apartment in the early hours of the morning, he can still feel the warm imprint of your lips on his cheek. Your perfume has stale beer has cloyed in his nose and the imprint of you is behind his eyelids when he closes them to try and sleep. The echo of your laughter rings in his ears and the reminder of your smile as he’d suggested late night waffles at a dessert place nearby your apartment. The phone on his nightstand seemed to hum with anticipation of using your now saved number tomorrow.

It's never easy coming back to the real world, but the real world certainly has it's perks.

#kyle 'gaz' garrick #x female!reader #kyle gaz garrick x female reader #captain john price #cod mw #cod mw 2 #cod fandom #141challenge #tw blood #tw injury #tw drinking #call of duty #call of duty x reader #task force 141

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jinkookspencil · 1 year

Text

unlucky in love

Your best friend Namjoon proposes a surprising, prolonged backup plan for the decades to come……

“Would….Would it be so bad?”

“You and me. You and me stuck with each other.”

tags/description: ~6k words / namjoon x (f) reader / angst / fluff / friends to lovers(?) / pining / no smut but alludes to sex possibly happening at one point / no triggers or warnings, except swearing / happy ending / slow burn within their timelines since this takes years…. / jane austen references, title is a reference to p&p but fair warning i might just change it to 'unlucky' in the future / three ‘chapters’ / age of namjoon in each chapter: 1: ~27, 2:~32, 3: ~36 / chapters are separated by little ✣ ’s / feedback always welcome!

author’s note: every time i say I’ll upload my jin fics another fic pops into and out of my head - this namjoon fic came out of nowhere and i just thought to upload it to celebrate the release of indigo. the jin ones are coming very soon though. </3 proud of this though, besides the jin wip series, this is my first longer work!

Namjoon was a catch. An ideal man. The perfect man, really. It wasn’t hard for you, one of his best friends, to see why practically every woman on the planet fell for him. It wasn’t just the people who knew him, either. You could see it in the barista’s eyes when you grabbed coffee together. You heard your friends’ countless gushes over him, even the ones that were taken. And you couldn’t blame them…. He was smart, a little goofy, respectful, manly, sometimes endearing, and he was pretty easy on the eyes too. Every woman’s dream. Practically a Jane Austen character come to life.

You could see it, understand it….you just never…. felt it. Namjoon was a close friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

You always had to dismiss people who thought otherwise or thought that that’s how you knew each other. Work had made your paths cross a few years ago when you were both in your early twenties and taking your first steps into the world of art. When he walked into your job at the film institute one morning, he had wanted to find out more about the artistry of film, the one realm of art he didn’t explore as thoroughly as paintings, sculptures, and literature, which you had always thought of studying as well. A quick conversation about film turned into an hour-long discussion on art and passion; the rest was history. Whenever Namjoon came back to learn about film, you took the opportunity to ask him about literature and art, whenever he brought it up, and before you knew it a friendship formed. He was the only one that got you, on your passions, art, and, as you’d later find out, in life.

Movie nights at his place and your place were common, as were trips to libraries and bookstores to pick out different reads, which you’d begin at coffee shops over cronuts and pies, but you enjoyed your regular late-night therapy sessions just as much, talking about life and its complexities, sharing ideas and personal philosophies… He was the only one that ever cared about that sort of thing…. And even when it got to discussions on love, everything remained respectful - especially when the other was in a relationship. Boyfriends came and went, with only one ever getting “worried” about Namjoon, whose girlfriends came and went over the years as well.

You understood art, you understood each other, you just never understood love.

It was the main topic of conversation on your cold, December walk, trying to figure it out as you always did.

“Why are we just so unlucky?” you complained. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us? Are we attracting these weirdos?”

He giggles. “I wouldn’t say that. We’re just ourselves, aren’t we? And don’t be mean. People just play a role and live fake lives because they don’t know any better. What did that guy tell you once? Didn’t he say that he was an author but it turns out he paid someone to write some fake short story about a cloud or some shit? Didn’t they even write the good morning texts he sent you?”

“Oh god, don’t remind me of that lazy ass, Joon,” you shake your head. “As if you didn’t date that girl who said she was an art curator but couldn’t pronounce Monet.”

“Ay,” he sighs. “I just wish people were honest to themselves, you know. So what, if you can’t pronounce Monet and didn’t like art? That girl was fine, she was just a compulsive liar. I can’t have that.”

“Sincerity is dying, Kim Namjoon. It lives in you and me only. And in, let’s hope, a lovely man out there who proves me wrong. And in someone for you, too.”

“Let’s hope. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with each other.”

“Oof, can’t have that,” you laugh, but a couple of steps later you notice that Namjoon had stopped walking, the bite of the hotteok he had taken from the dessert in your hands lingering in his mouth for a moment too long before he swallowed it.

Eyes squinted in a far off-gaze, with his head tiled, you knew Namjoon was in thought. As always, you stopped and stared at him until he came back to Earth, not to interrupt his train of thought.

“Would….Would it be so bad?” he finally speaks.

“Would what be so bad?”

“You and me. You and me stuck with each other.”

W- all of a sudden?!

“Namjoon?!”

“Listen, I know we’re friends. Just friends, right? For all these years? And even right now… like sorry, Y/N, but I don’t know if I feel so attracted to you… I think I know too much and we’re too alike but that’s not the point. Just… Would it be so bad?” he asks, but he goes on. “I guess you’re right, we’ve both just been so…. unlucky. I like to think there’s someone out there for me and for you but… I can’t deny that I’m losing hope, at least for myself. You are, too, you just admitted it. The new year is starting soon and I've been thinking about what I want in life... And… I want a wife. I want kids. And..”

“Namjoon, what the fuck are you saying?!,” you yell in the middle of the snowy park. “Kids?!”

“Not now!” he explains. “Of course not now. But… look they always say ‘marry your best friend’, right? Well, you’re my only ‘best friend’ that’s a girl. It’s not like I can ask Yoongi to marry me.”

You feel your head spin at the words spewing out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“Kim Namjoon! A wife, marriage, kids, what the fuck are you saying?”

He takes a deep breath and grabs your elbow, leading you to sit on a nearby park bench.

“Breathe, Y/N. I thought this through and we can scrap the idea and pretend like I never said anything, but just hear me out for a moment, with a calm mind.”

Looking at Namjoon, still confused, you take a couple of deep breaths before you nod at him to continue talking.

“I’m not saying this for right now. What I’m saying is… in years, if we’re still friends, if we’re still single, if we’re still unlucky in love, if we still get each other…. If, and if, and if…. Why don’t we… why don’t we give this a shot? Just as a backup? We can either try a relationship - but that might be too weird because you know,” he tilts his head, “As I said, I think you’re not… and I am not… at least right now, anyway… Anyway! We can do that or we can just… get married regardless. Maybe have kids some way or the other. I know you want that in life but not right now, and I feel the same. And who knows? Our ‘wants’ can easily change…. But if…. It’ll be nice to share my life with my best friend.”

You stare at Namjoon, taking in his… proposal. “When?”

“When should we do this?” he assumes is your question, staring up at the sky while he figures out an answer. “When I’m around 35, 36, 37? That seems good for both of us. That gives us plenty of time to find someone else, if that happens and…”

“No, I mean… when did you come up with this idea?”, you ask.

“Oh, just right now when we were walking over there,” he says, pointing to the place he froze.

“And you’re so ready to make this offer?!”

“You’re my best friend!” he exclaims. “Wasn’t this always a safe space for us to just say what’s on our minds?”

His tone couldn’t be more serious, even with the gentle expression on his face.

“Look, it’s just an idea. It’s just a backup. And hey if in the future you or I feel like this conversation was a bad idea we can forget it ever happened. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend our nights watching films everyone thinks is too pretentious, talking about life, then in the mornings visiting libraries and galleries, with hotteoks and coffee? And not have to worry about lovers who never gave a shit about all of that? It’s about more than that but…,” he pauses. “We can still do it as friends, but…. just in case we don’t find that with someone else….”

You stare at Namjoon. He was your best friend. He understood you more than any lover, or any friend, ever had. Would it be so bad? To marry your best friend?

“And what about the issue of attraction, Joon? We both think that’s important. I hate to break it to you, bestie, but I’m not attracted to you, either.”

“That’ll resolve itself,” he laughs. “We’ll probably be too old to care. Or.. we’ll see…. There are so many ‘if’s’ for this to happen and I don’t know what future Namjoon will think. It’s just an offer.”

You had plenty of time. Sure, you’d find someone…. Sure, he would too - if given the chance, hundreds of girls would line up just for the chance to date him. OF course, you’ll both find other people…. But for now…. Would it hurt to not completely disregard your best friend?

“I’m living every girl’s dream… getting proposed to under conditions, with the guy telling her she’s unattractive and saying he’ll be stuck with me.”

“Sorry, just think of yourself as a modern-day Elizabeth Bennett,” he smiles.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself by insinuating that you’re a Darcy,” you say, making him laugh.

“So… when you’re 35?” you ask after a moment of silence, looking at Namjoon through your eyelashes, picking at the paper packaging of your shared dessert in your hands, his twiddling with the strings on his hoodie.

“Around?”, he answers.

You nod, smiling at your best friend.

“Okay. That gives me plenty of time to find an actual Mr. Darcy.”

“I’m sure he’ll bewitch you, you idiot….”

✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣

“Finally, it’s been too long.”

Those are the words you’d greeted Namjoon with the moment you spotted him waiting for you outside the cafe. It had been too long. Over the years, you kept in touch as best as you could, but with hectic work schedules and different careers, it was hard to see each other as often as you used to in your twenties.

“It has,” he smiles, wrapping an arm around you in a hug. “What has it been like 5, 6 months? How’ve you been?”

You catch up for the next hour over coffee and pastries, talking about life, the world, and art, as you always had, as if you’d just seen each other the other day. But, as the sun began to set and the cafe got too busy to relax in, you were reminded that your long-anticipated hangout day was slowly coming to an end.

“I don’t know if it’s our age or if that croissant ruined it, but how is this iced latte so sweet?” he wonders, taking a sip of the extra coffee he ordered to go as you watched the summer sky change colors in the park.

“Let’s switch,” you offer, handing Namjoon your iced americano. “You never liked coconut milk, anyway, why would you order it with your coffee? Dairy is still bad for you, huh?”

“Yep. I can’t power through the intolerance anymore,” he laughs. “Could it be possible that my girlfriend’s dairy intolerance made me even more intolerant?”

“The model, right?” you ask.

“Yep. She’s…alright. And hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you…. how’s that guy you’ve been seeing? How long has it been now? A year?”

“A year and a half,” you nod. “That’s actually the reason I’ve been rushing to see you…

I…uh.. I’m engaged.”

Namjoon’s pace slows. “Oh.”

Oh?

“Uhm, congratulations,” he says sternly.

“Thanks….” you murmur, side-eyeing Namjoon who just stares at his feet as you both continue to walk.

“Do you like him?”

“….Of course, I like him, Namjoon. Why else would I accept? Why else would I date him for a year and a half of my life?”, you snap.

But Namjoon remains quiet, merely nodding in the silence.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” you say.

“I would be…. If you were happy.”

“I am happy,” you say, stopping him and standing your ground.

“Then where the fuck is your ring?”

You quickly hide your hands in your pockets in a feeble attempt at concealing the truth he just spat out. He had given you a ring. A diamond ring with a gold band. One he said reminded him of you. Even though you told him you hated diamonds, and only wore silver. It was the thought that counts, right? The gift…. The proposal. It didn’t matter that he didn’t bother getting one that fit either, it was too big and too…. not you. As he said, you should be grateful that he finally popped the question…..

“It was too big,” you say meekly, and Namjoon scoffs.

“Even so, why didn’t he get it resized? Why isn’t it on a chain around your neck? Is it fucking gold?!”

“I…”

“To this day… even if we don’t see each other as often, I’d still consider you my best friend,” he interrupts you softly. “I know you more than anyone, Y/N. If this is the same guy you talked to me about a year ago….,” he sighs. “I know the movies you find romantic, the books and characters you fawn over, the tropes you like, the art that affected you… and I know he isn’t.. he wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do all the things you wanted, all the things you deserved, Y/N. What happened to that hope you always had, even whenever we called ourselves unlucky? Where is my best friend? The Y/N I knew, who looked for a Darcy or a Knightley or whatever the fuck? That Y/N? She wouldn’t settle for someone like that.”

“I woke up. I was delusional. I realized that I don’t live in a fucking Jane Austen novel, Namjoon. There’s no one else, okay?”

He shakes his head. It stings more than anything, seeing the disappointment and…. hurt…. in his eyes. “Your reason for marrying a guy is ‘there’s no one else’? Y/N….”

“Don’t bring up that stupid ass deal now, Namjoon.”

“Did I?!”, he asks, and it’s the first time you sense anger in his voice. You rarely could… even over the years.

“Fuck the deal. Look at the guy you’re marrying,” he spits the words out, the last word escaping like venom, before rubbing the space between his brows. “How many times did you come to me because he never got you, huh? Because he never made any effort to do so?

I just want to see you happy, Y/N.”

“Well, open your eyes, Namjoon because that’s what you’ll see.”

But you walk away the moment he looks at you, knowing you’d be unable to hide another lie, nor the tears forming in your eyes.

He knew you too well.

✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣

“Did you hear who’s here?”

Looking up from your notebook, you see the excitement in your co-partner’s eyes… under all that blue mascara and funky makeup.

“Put that thing away! It’s a party. Guess who’s here?”

“Who?” you resign, putting your tiny notepad and pen in your purse.

“Only your FAVORITE film director, AND he’s looking to fund the film institute, AND he’s newly single.”

You contain your excitement, but she’d never realize it was there. “You talk like a teenager when we need to get down to business, ‘partner’. Is he really here and looking to fund it?”

“And he’s single,” she reiterates. “Oh, and the Kim Namjoon is here.”

…..Oh.

“He's so handsome, isn't he? And on top of all that talent? I think he’s looking to put together some pieces for an upcoming exhibition in his gallery… And word on the street is he's looking to get into film, too. Actually….," she pauses, "you two seem like a good fit. I’m sure you’ll work together one day.”

The thought of seeing Namjoon made your heart race, but really there was no reason for you to be surprised. The both of you had become prominent people in the art industry… It was more surprising that you hadn’t bumped into each other in all these years, dancing within the same circles. And you always promised yourself…

Still, you were there for work, you reminded yourself quickly. Sure, it was a party, but everyone networked at these things. And you had a film institute that needed funding….

The night went well, you mixed and mingled with so many people that were interested in film and the institute, and you can’t help but feel a rush when receiving your favorite director’s business card, complete with his personal phone number…. Where that’d go, you couldn’t tell, but his brief mention of funding and a collaboration idea was more than enough. Lost in the adrenaline, you forgot about Namjoon entirely….

“Y/N, there you are!,” you hear from behind you,. It was a partygoer you had just met….a familiar, looming figure was talking to someone else behind her. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere! Have you met Mr. Kim Namjoon?”

Of course. This was it.

The all-too-familiar figure turns towards you, his glaring eyes fixated on yours for a moment so long you missed the partygoer’s unnecessary introductions.

“….Miss Y/N here is a leading figure in the world of film,” you hear, “which I know you expressed interest in delving into, Mr. Kim.”

“You don’t need to introduce Miss. Y/N L/N to me. It’s good to see you,” he says with a smile, eyes still locked onto yours, but you don’t miss his fingers twitching around the glass in his hand before he outstretches his other arm.

“It’s good to see you too,” you reply, shaking his hand. Just as soft and big as you remember it to be.

“Oh! Have you… met?” the elderly lady asks from somewhere in your peripheral vision.

“We have,” you simply respond with a nod, but Namjoon elaborates.

“We… now.. we now know of each other.”

“Oh…. Well… why haven’t you collaborated yet?! I’ll leave you to it, figure it out and make it happen,” you hear the woman insist and briefly see her figure disappear into the crowd.

“It really is good to see you, Y/N,” he says, finally breaking the silence between you in the otherwise noise-filled room.

“Same to you, Namjoon….”

“I’m proud of you and all that you’ve done. I never got the chance to say that.”

“Thanks. I’m proud of you, too… ‘Mr. Kim’,” you laugh.

“Oh,” he winces with a chuckle, “It sounds even weirder coming from you. At this age and I still haven’t gotten used to it, to all of…. this,” he says, waving around to the party behind him and taking a sip of his drink.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like a good party, Kim Namjoon, I know you too well.”

“You do, you do…..,” he says, nodding. “And I do, like a good party. But you know just as well as I do that this isn’t a party. This is just… networking and business.”

“Yeah… and you’re interested in film, all of a sudden….”

“Not all of a sudden, Y/N, you know that, but it is time for my foundation to step into film. We've neglected it for far too long, but… fuck I don’t want to talk about that…” he waves off. “You’re the only one here I can have a normal conversation with…”

You had both begun to hear distant calls of ‘Mr. Kim Namjoon!’

“….Can we step out for a while?”

Just around the corner from the gallery the event was held at, was a quaint yet artsy bookstore and bakery hybrid that was surprisingly still open at this hour. But at the employees’ silent acknowledgment of Namjoon, you suspected he was a regular… or the more obvious answer, they recognized him as famed writer and art philanthropist, Kim Namjoon.

“Sit, I’ll get us some stuff,” he says, before returning to you with two coffees and two pastries. “A lemon flavor and a dark chocolate one… Because we’ve gotten so old.”

You chuckle, taking a bite of the bittersweet dark chocolate pastry, the perfect cup of coffee in your hands, the beautiful bookstore you were in and wondering how you never found it, but most of all you were taking in the moment… Taking in the fact that you were sitting opposite Namjoon again. Taking him in. With his eyes wandering around in thought, and a smile on his face. Already, it was as if no time had passed at all. Except, age looked good a bit too good on him.

“Coffee, desserts, bookstores, and probably late-night conversations with Kim Namjoon… Takes me back.”

“Yeah…..” he thinks aloud, eyes still scanning above and below as he does…. “Yeah, I missed this.”

“…So have I…. I’m sorry I never reached out, Namjoon.”

“Don’t be,” he says, looking at you through his brows and taking a slow sip from his coffee. “I never reached out either.”

And…,” he starts, rubbing his hands together before continuing, “ I don’t know if I can take another year,” he says, breaking the silence. “Friends again?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Friends again.”

“Good,” he sighs with a wide smile, his eyes still forming little crescent moons when he did so. “Phew. Finally, I’ll have someone that gets me. Maybe we both changed over the years, but even so, I’m just glad I’ll have someone to talk to about books and art again. Someone that doesn’t want something out of me or isn’t bored out of their mind when I do so like Yoongi. I made the funniest joke the other day and he just ignored me like I hadn’t said anything.”

“What was the joke?”

“What do you get if you cross a painter with a heavyweight boxer? ….Muhammad Dali.”

You scoff. “Seems like Seokjin rubbed off on you. Kim Namjoon, you haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” he says. “I saw you with your little notebook. Who brings a notebook to a party?”

“I was writing down information I knew I’d forget! Do you know how many people introduced themselves? I need to differentiate the flirting guy from the ‘kid faking that he’s in the industry’ from ‘serious collaboration potential’! They’re all in that sacred notebook, with a description of each person!”

“The flirting guy, huh? In addition to that too-good director? I saw him give you his number...” Namjoon chuckles, before going silent. “Whatever happened with… to the engagement?”

Despite having no contact with Namjoon over the past couple of years, there’s no way word wouldn’t have gotten to him. Despite everything, if you had made that mistake, he still would’ve been invited to the wedding.

“You know, Namjoon.”

He nods. He knows. He probably knows that he’s the one who woke you up from that nightmare too. But nothing needs to be said.

“Yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Whatever happened to that model by the way?”

“…Which one?” he smirks.

“Fuck off, Kim Namjoon,” you throw a flimsy napkin in his way, laughing while he explodes into his hearty, hyena laugh - the one he rarely lets out.

“Oh, it’s been ages since I heard that,” you say, pretending to wince at the noise.

“It’s been ages since it came out of me.....”

“Why? Seokjin’s not around? Too busy with his wife and kids?”, you ask.

“He’s around, still as funny, but… I don’t know, you make me laugh…differently…”

“It was your joke! You basically made yourself laugh, Joon,” you giggle.

“Oh, fuck,” he says. “…'Joon’…”

You search his face, trying to sense what he was feeling but you couldn’t tell what it was…

“No one called you that? Over the years? It seems like a… common, easy nickname for you….” you say calmly, wondering why no girlfriend or lover ever used the soft as summer nickname for the man who was the same.

“People tried to,” he shakes his head. “I never let them.”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowing. “Why, Namjoon?”

“Y/N…. I know I don’t have to explain sentimentality to you.” His gaze shifts from the paper cup he toyed with to your eyes, and again, you just sit in silence.

It was time.

“You know, Namjoon, I did a lot of thinking…. over the years… About myself, the world…. You know, we called ourselves unlucky but we’re really quite stupid.”

“I know,” he nods. “We are, but… go on.“

“It was stupid of us to attribute it all to luck and the world. Especially because… all these years, I don’t think either of us really knew what we were searching for. We chased the empty label of ‘love’ without defining how that’d look like to us. And that’s what I’ve been working on.”

“And?”

“And…. After countless movies, books, art, and a lot of self-reflection….. I finally have an idea.” Your eyes wandered as you talked, but you were determined to keep them on him, who listened intently, as you continued.

“I have an idea… of what love looks like to me. Whenever I thought about what I wanted, what I had and experienced… I realized that what I wanted was what we had. That friendship, that support, that empathy, respect, trust, honesty, and understanding… that… love.

I loved you, Namjoon. I love you.”

“And I loved you…and love you. I always did and always will,” he says immediately, calmly. “But…. what exactly are you saying?”

You knew he meant it as you did. You didn't need to define what type or over-analyze it and sub-categorize it as you would have when you were younger. It was love. Deep, true love. And it’s now or never...

“Is that offer still on the table?”

A chuckle escapes him, as well as the smile he tried so hard to contain.

“You needed to rewatch all those movies and reread all those books to figure it out? I could’ve painted you a picture years ago. But… you never even asked if I was single.”

“Are you?” you ask, hoping the quiet chuckle you let out concealed the bubbling feeling of regret in your chest. “Or is there another model? Some artistic muse? What did you call that one from years ago? ‘Alright’? ”

“The model, the curator, the.. whatever, they were all… alright but… wrong. No one ever… got me,” he admits, raising his eyebrows when he sees you nodding at his use of your words. You were on the same page. “I stopped searching for someone who did…. and then I went to that party.

I always wanted that for you, Y/N, but I never realized I needed it too…”

Namjoon was at his most vulnerable, and so were you, laying your honest truth out to the person who knew you best…. But it was easier to see it in his eyes. It’s something you hadn’t seen in him since your twenties, but he seemed more sure of himself than ever. So ready to be vulnerable, so ready to be honest, so…

“So…." you say, partly thinking aloud, partly hoping Namjoon could continue the conversation.

“So, you finally get why I made that offer, way back when?” he asks.

“How did you know? We were in our twenties… Wait… did you come up with this because you had feelings for me all along?!”, you say, mouth agape in shock and amusement. You’d never doubt your friendship was a sham, but what if…

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not the Knightley to your Emma, idiot, I wasn’t attracted to you then. It was just…. something that felt right. It still does. I didn’t know… much.”

“So, the offer is still on the table?”, you ask after a moment of silence.

“Of course it is.”

“Are you 35?”

“A little older,” he winces. "All this time and you're still bad at math, huh?"

You roll your eyes. “Well, you said ‘around 35’.... so, we’re right on schedule. And I still need to be wooed, Kim Namjoon. I know you have it in you,” you smile, feeling confidence return to your bloodstream like a rush of adrenaline after years without it.

“You finally know what you deserve,” he says softly. “You are getting bewitched, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

“Bewitched and hitched?” you laugh.

“Hey, don’t come for my job. Or actually, a joint poetry book or short film shit would be nice, we should do that,” he thinks, “but yes…. bewitched and hitched.”

Staring at the man you knew so well sitting opposite you, you couldn’t wait.

“‘When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible,’” you quote quietly.

“When Harry Met Sally…,” Namjoon nods. “You loved that film.”

“I do…” you nod. “so with that in mind, how soon can we make the wedding?”

He laughs, his hand reaching for yours across the table before he stands up and envelops you in a warm, soft embrace. Taking in his familiar scent of coffee and cologne, you don’t want to let go. In any way. But he does, only to kiss you on the cheek and giggle when you tip-toe to reciprocate.

“And if we fight?”, you suddenly ask Namjoon, your demons briefly popping in to ruin the moment.

“We used to. As couples do,” he shrugs, taking your hands in his. “All those ‘if’s’ worked out in our favor, didn’t they? It didn’t seem like they did….until today.”

He brushes a hair away from your face, fingers grazing your jawline. Amidst all the familiarity of the night, this was new…. His lips slowly meet yours in a kiss as soft as summer and sweeter than the chocolate you could taste on him.

Breaking away, his hand instantly finds his stomach. You don’t need to theorize what it means, but you can’t hide the shock you’re feeling. He could be so innocent at times, you remember thinking, whenever you saw him rub his belly button every time he got butterflies from a girl.

“Wow, do people our age still get butterflies in their stomachs?” You giggle, placing your hand on his. This was definitely new ground. “And to think I caused this.”

“I hate how I could never control it, it feels like a tickle," he smiles. "Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt this in a while, though... I wish my 'tell' was as subtle as yours.”

“I have a tell?!!,” you yell, immediately wondering if anything gave away that you were feeling the same way.

“You do. Not to bring him up but I never saw it with what’s-his-face and that's when I knew… But anyways, I think I’ll keep it a secret. So you don’t make a note of it,” he says while you roll your eyes, but in doing so a book behind Namjoon catches your eye and suddenly, you remembered your surroundings.

“Anyways, is this beautiful place magically open for us to have this moment?”

“Well, if you’d say that, then I’m the wizard.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Sweetie, I own this place.”

You momentarily ignore another ‘first’ in your life, Namjoon calling you a pet name, to take in the fact that he owned the most beautiful place you’d ever seen in your life.

“You OWN this place?! And you never told me about it? This is what I feel most betrayed about, Joon,” you huff, looking around. Of course it was his. Every inch of this placed screamed his name. No wonder you loved it so much.

“I guess I have to explain this one to you, don’t I? I saved this place from going bankrupt and completely revamped it. I thought of you every step of the way and… you know, I’m a romantic. I liked to believe one day you’d find this place by chance and just get that it was mine…. And that that’s how we’d meet. There’s even a screening room upstairs, beside the mini gallery, so I’m surprised you hadn’t found this place yet. There’s even a DVD section because you went on about the importance of physical media, which I now get. You didn’t even notice the name, huh?”

You look around, finding the minimalistic lettering and logo of the place on the far wall. “Unlucky - Art. Books. Coffee.”

“I love it, Namjoon,” you say, looking around in wonder… “And let me guess, you called it ‘Unlucky’ to defy the word itself?”

He nods, smiling as he walks over to you. “We were never unlucky. We were lucky… because we had each other.”

“‘Had’… I hate that we wasted those years in between,” you whisper.

“Don’t be. The years got us here. To when we could finally have each other… again. It’s not too late if it’s the right way, the right time....”

“Let’s go back to that party,, hmm?” he says after another hug, “I’m already excited to introduce you as my fiancé.”

“And then we'll leave and talk some more. I’m not wasting a single moment of my life from now on, Kim Namjoon.”

“Of course…,” he smiles. “We’ll leave and… talk. The talking that results in the other thing we said would come with this deal.”

You pinch Namjoon’s still squishy yet firm arm before taking it in your hands as you walked back to the party, anticipating what came next.

Whether it was talking, Namjoon’s new definition of talking, hearing him introduce you as his fiancé, working with him, or even just the next minute by his side. It was the rest of your life. He was the rest of your life.

And neither of you could ever let this go. This was the love you’d both been searching for.

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friendofcars · 11 months

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i've revised my trb chapter 36 notes and they've somehow expanded to ~15 pages. you can read them here (i've also pasted the text into this post under the cut). the notes don't constitute an essay or produce a coherent thesis but they're a pretty comprehensive list of observations and interpretations i drew from the chapter.

TRB chapter 36 notes (content warning for abuse)

Last updated: 230610

“’The buck stops here,’ Ronan said, pulling up the hand brake. ‘Home shit home.’” This is the first chapter where Adam and Ronan are the only main characters present- their first scene entirely alone, set in the BMW before Adam gets out. I’m thinking about a few things: how differently Ronan and Gansey talk about Adam’s trailer, his parents, his poverty, etc.; how Ronan’s flippant insults and nonchalant offers of help (despite genuine concern) are less alienating to Adam than Gansey’s more openly heartfelt concern, since it’s paired with criticism of Adam’s pride and a tendency to command rather than suggest (full disclosure- I love Gansey and understand his point of view, but it’s clear why his approach upsets Adam more, and I think Ronan, having felt smothered by Declan, is more capable of empathizing with Adam on the matter of refusing help moving out); the recurring theme of cars being a place of refuge and solace for Ronan and how he wishes Adam would stay inside the BMW (even though he knows he won’t). I didn’t verify what I’m about to say so if I remembered incorrectly please let me know, but I’m pretty sure that we see Ronan drive Adam in the BMW to the trailer park twice (in this chapter, and in TRK when Adam scries while Ronan drives [the “wrong devil” scene]). Nobody else drives Adam home (although Gansey repeatedly stops by to pick him up). Gansey is constantly bringing Adam away from the trailer, for good reason (and practical reason too- sometimes they’re just going to class). Ronan brings him back, setting Adam up to confront his life and make decisions to change it. I know someone else has written a tumblr post about Ronan putting Adam in these types of situations and it’s very insightful and I’d love to cite it here (so if you wrote it or know who did, please tell me!). But ultimately this sets up an arc that ends with Adam driving the BMW alone for a final conversation with his parents, in which he can come and go from the trailer independently and in control of his interactions with his parents- the effects of the abuse are not erased, but his character arc has such a trajectory that he’s able to get some closure on his own terms via his hard-won autonomy and healing (the BMW/Ronan has played a key role in establishing both).

“In the dark, the Parrish family’s double-wide was a dreary gray box, two windows illuminated.” The description of the double-wide has gone from pale blue in daytime to an absence of color- things are even more grim. No love, no liveliness. A strong contrast to the home from which they’ve just driven (300 Fox Way, which has a bright blue exterior). The illuminated windows seem like omens or warnings rather than beacons. “Box” implies simplicity, a lack of architecture, a constraining place, a place in which one might be trapped. I’m thinking about how the flat ceiling of a box-like trailer also contrasts with the multi-sloped attic of 300 Fox Way, perhaps symbolizing Blue’s family’s proclamation of Blue’s potential versus Adam’s family’s stifling of his talents, needs, wants, etc.

“It was a comfortable enough arrangement; Adam and Ronan weren’t in a fight at the moment, and both of them were too startled by the day’s events to start a new one.” Not that they don’t get genuinely upset with each other on page (things get heated in BLLB as the development of their relationship becomes more prominent/less subtextual), but I feel like we get told that Adam and Ronan don’t get along but they…usually…do, from our vantage point. When they do have conflict in the first book, it doesn’t seem as heavy/personally directed as when Adam and Gansey fight. I get the sense that a lot of their bickering is routine and low stakes, especially since the passage tells us that the day’s chaos and threat to Gansey’s safety has jostled them out of their typical (mundane?) arguing.

“Adam reached in the back for his messenger bag, the one gift he’d ever permitted Gansey to give him, and only because he didn’t need it.” I remember this sentence being critical to my understanding of Adam’s character the first time I read this series. Adam accepts the one gift he doesn’t need because he could get rid of it and suffer no dire consequences if the friendship ended. He wouldn’t have to rearrange his carefully made plans over a messenger bag if he wanted or needed to give it up at all. There’s no desperate gratitude or a gnawing need to pay back a debt- it’s superficial, not connected to his precarious survival, no implied reliance. There’s also something in here about a bag being used to carry things (burdens?) that I’m trying to tease out into words but haven’t yet. whoreshoecrab also made the brilliant observation that a messenger bag is more of an academic, white collar (and relatively impractical) choice of bag which I think plays into Adam’s willingness to accept something since it doesn’t highlight his desperate need for the bare necessities.

“Another silhouette, distinctly Adam’s father, had joined the first at the window. Adam’s stomach curdled.” We don’t get much information about the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Parrish (although Adam’s later concern about leaving his father’s gun behind implies that Robert also abuses his wife), but here there’s an implication of a united front against Adam. His stomach going sour is a visceral description of his fear- how terrible to go home to danger rather than safety. This sentence reminds me of one from TDT in one of the Gray Man’s chapters: “The Gray Man’s stomach wrung itself out… His brother had never intended for him to pick up; he merely wanted this: the Gray Man stopping the car, wondering if he was supposed to return the call. Wondering if his brother was going to call back. Untangling the wired threads in his gut.” (TDT, chapter 7), both serving as descriptions of a particularly physiological, visceral fear stemming from abuse.

“He tightened his fingers around the strap of his bag, but he didn’t get out.” Tightening -> builds tension in the narration as Adam braces himself for a confrontation. I mentioned this already, but cars often serve as places of refuge in the series. Ronan goes to wait in the Camaro after his brawl with Declan in TRB chapter 7 and after Calla goes for his neck in TRB chapter 15; Adam lingers in the BMW to delay having to go home in this chapter. Adam joins Ronan in the BMW in TRK in silent solidarity as Ronan grieves.

“’Man, you don’t have to get out here,’ Ronan said. Adam didn’t comment on that; it wasn’t helpful. Instead he asked, ‘Don’t you have homework to do?’ But Ronan, as the inventor of sly remarks, was impervious to them. His smile was ruthless in the glow from the dash. ‘Yes, Parrish. I believe I do.”’ A suggestion, not an order (i.e.. You don’t have to get out here vs. don’t get out here). Adam’s arguments with Gansey are often about how Gansey views/treats Adam; Adam’s arguments with Ronan are often about how Ronan wastes the time he has, the time he could be using for school work, the time Adam wishes he had. He’s genuinely frustrated that Ronan wastes such a precious resource, but the frustration is with a behavior that doesn’t have anything to do with himself (if he doesn’t compare himself to Ronan, which is another can of worms). Adam ignores Ronan’s comment- would he have ignored such a statement from Gansey, or started to argue? Would Gansey have ever phrased it like that? We get more insight into how they interact/communicate; Adam avoids arguing over serious circumstances but is comfortable resorting to banter since he knows there’s no risk of actual offense. There’s also a microscopic bit of dramatic irony here if you’re re-reading since the outcome of the events in this chapter directly lead to Ronan doing his homework in earnest.

“He didn’t like the agitation of his father’s silhouette. But, it was unwise to loiter in the car — especially this car, an undeniably Aglionby car — flaunting his friendships.” This chapter obviously shows Adam’s father’s physically abusive nature but also demonstrates how absolute his effect on Adam is, whether or not he’s actively enacting the abuse. Adam is constantly tuned to his father’s posture and follows a set of rules designed to minimize conflict and harm to himself. For someone running so low on time and sleep, this perpetual monitoring must add an additional layer of exhaustion. There’s no place to hide- to stay safe in the BMW is to potentially worsen his father’s mood, and to go home is to put himself in the path of danger anyway. Re: it being unwise to flaunt friendships: this was also crucial to me understanding Adam and his independence/lonesomeness; because the Parrishes are poor and Adam’s friends are wealthy, and mentioning his friends (which is criticized as flaunting) threatens his father’s insecurity about their poverty, Adam is conditioned to see connection and community as shameful, as a betrayal to his roots (which he is also taught to see as shameful- there is no winning). In the context of his family, he is safer on his own (but in the context of the world, he cannot move forward alone, and this is a lesson he must learn).

“If he shows up for class,” Adam replied, “I think that the reading will be the least of his concerns.” Subtle threat/hint at Adam having zero remorse for Whelk in future chapters

“There was quiet, and then Ronan said, ‘I better go feed the bird.’ But he looked down at the gearshift instead, eyes unfocused. He said, ‘I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if Whelk had shot Gansey today.’ Adam hadn’t let himself dwell on that possibility. Every time his thoughts came close to touching on the near miss, it opened up something dark and sharp edged inside him.” Like Ronan calling Adam “man” and “Parrish,” referring to Chainsaw as “the bird” serves as an example of Ronan keeping his emotional distance, maybe as a way of giving Adam space in a tense situation, maybe to disguise Ronan’s intense emotions. Ronan engages with his concern for Gansey by obsessing over the worst case hypothetical outcomes; Adam (who is typically concerned with planning for all the possible futures) chooses to avoid thinking about such fears at all. As explained in the remainder of the passage (next section), Adam cannot fathom a life without Gansey. This is a clear reminder that Whelk is Adam’s foil, not someone on a parallel path- for Adam, harming Gansey/Gansey’s mortality is too heavy to even think about, much less plot out. Something dark and sharp edged- a hole, a grave? In BLLB when Adam figures out that Gansey is on the St. Mark’s Eve death list, the narration says, “his heart was a grave” (ough). A place to bury impending grief? Or, if you’ve read TD3, this sounds a lot like the Lace, which is to say it sounds a lot like fear and insecurity and terror and being seen and the infinite and abandonment and grief and a lot of other things I haven’t processed yet.

“It was hard to remember what life at Aglionby had been like before Gansey. The distant memories seemed difficult, lonely, more populated with late nights where Adam sat on the steps of the double-wide, blinking tears out of his eyes and wondering why he bothered. He’d been younger then, only a little more than a year ago.” Not only is Adam currently repressing the thought of a life without Gansey, he recurringly prevents himself from crying. Adam alone at Aglionby, struggling to adapt and feeling like a fraud, with no one to believe in him but himself, is incomprehensibly sad. “Lonely” followed by “populated with” makes it seem like the late nights themselves were Adam’s only company.

“His hand worked on the steering wheel; something was frustrating him, but with Ronan, there was no telling if it was still Whelk or something else entirely. “No problem, man. See you tomorrow.” This assessment of Ronan (aside from an incidence of Ronan in motion/his kinetic way of processing emotion), in my opinion, serves to illustrate Adam’s self-perception and paradoxically egocentric and unselfish thought process (he’s self-centered in the sense that he has to prioritize his own needs to survive and is constantly worried about how he acts and feels and interacts with others and looks and on and on but is unselfish in the sense that he doesn’t consider the possibility that Ronan might be frustrated and worried about Adam himself). Ronan is reeling from grieving Noah, worrying about Gansey almost getting killed (which was a pre-existing fear, as we know from chapter 16 and the wasp encounter). And while we’re on the topic of chapter 16 and the aftermath of chapter 33, I hadn’t realized until now that Gansey’s “dual vision” when death is imminent (“Two narratives coexisted in his head. One was the real image: the wasp climbing up the wood, oblivious to his presence. The other was a false image, a possibility: the wasp whirring into the air, finding Gansey’s skin, dipping the stinger into him, Gansey’s allergy making it a deadly weapon.” And “Gansey had that same, detached feeling that he’d had in Monmouth Manufacturing, looking at the wasp. At once he saw the reality: a gun pressed against the skin above his eyebrows, so cold as to feel sharp — and also the possibility: Whelk’s finger pulling back, a bullet burrowing into his skull, death instead of finding a way to get back to Henrietta.”) is perhaps an effect of him living two lives at once, at both dying and surviving twice (but sort of at the same point at the time loop because both deaths and rebirths are temporally linked to Noah’s favor, powered by Cabeswater and the ley line). ????????????????

“With a sigh, Adam climbed out. He knocked on the top of the BMW, and Ronan pulled slowly away. Above him, the stars were brutal and clear.” Who else notably sighs? Noah, another target of physical violence. Ronan is slow, reluctant to leave. Over the next few pages (as Robert berates Adam and accuses him of lying) Ronan continues to slowly leave the driveway because Adam can still see his break lights (antithetical to a stereotypical Ronan response- speeding off recklessly). The brutal and clear stars- perhaps an acceptance of the inevitable cruelty he is walking into? Adam feels destined or cursed to suffer, maybe as if fate, is cold and uncaring. (but does he believe in fate? Evidence in TDT chapter 8 says yes, if not literal fate but a general doomed-by-your-origin/bloodline sentiment, although he also persistently rewrites his narrative and seeks autonomy in his own life, so I don’t think there’s a clear answer. If anything, if he does believe in fate, he sees it as mutable and probably something not named fate at all). I think it’s also notable that the stars are a source of calming comfort to Blue, rather than harsh and distant observers of her struggles. “The stars were brutal and clear” always reminds me of Javert’s Suicide from Les Miserables: I am reaching but I fall/ And the stars are black and cold/ As I stare into the void/ Of a world that cannot hold.

“Hi, Dad,” Adam said. “Don’t ‘hi, dad’ me,” his father replied. He was already revved up. He smelled like cigarettes, although he didn’t smoke. “Come home at midnight. Trying to hide from your lies?” Adam graciously attempts civility; Robert eschews all pretense of acting like any sort of father at all. He’s already agitated, by Adam breaking curfew (which he’s broken for good reason, though Robert doesn’t and can’t know this) or by anything else in the world- his anger is out of Adam’s control. We’ve recently learned Adam does not like to be accused of lying from his encounter with Declan (TRB, 31). The cigarette smell on an adult non-smoker is probably indicative of the company they keep- co-workers? Friends, if he has them? An affair if Adam’s mom doesn’t smoke? The midnight curfew is surely a measure of control rather than care, and is relevant to interpretation of Adam’s constant meticulously meted out aliquots of time (for school, for work, for friends, for sleep) and deep envy for/resentment of those that have time and waste it- not even his own time exists outside the shadow of his father’s fist.

“Adam’s knees were slowly liquefying. He did his best to keep most of his Aglionby life hidden from his father, and he could think of several things about himself and his life that wouldn’t please Robert Parrish. The fact that he didn’t know precisely what had been found was agonizing. He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes.” Emphasizes Adam’s need to always be hiding, keeping secrets, protecting the truth. Ronan is also familiar with the burden of keeping secrets in the name of safety. More description of the physical impact of abuse on Adam (in addition to the actual physical abuse- here I’m referencing the physical manifestations of fear and dread). I’m really interested in Adam’s relationship to his body throughout the series (and I’d have to dig up some other notes to elaborate but his POV chapters often pay acute detail to physical sensations, he dissociates on a number of occasions, his sacrifice of his hands and eyes and ongoing struggle for autonomy on physical and psychological levels especially as the unmaker/demon gains access to his hands and eyes, his healing occurring metaphorically via ley line work/outside of his own body, being alive because he bleeds, perhaps positing his awakening in BLLB as a reintegration of his mind and body after that pivotal scrying scene, etc. I would LOVE to discuss this more but I think I to collect my thoughts or the input from someone else on which to reflect- but this is probably the foundation of a legitimate essay imo). The liquifying sensation intimates a dissolution of the body, or the loss of restrained solidity and form, an unwilling spilling out of his tightly rehearsed outward projections. And finally, not knowing what his father found = lack of control = lack of strategy to defuse the conflict and protect himself.

“Robert Parrish grabbed Adam’s collar, forcing his chin up.” This is a repeated gesture in this chapter: a proprietary, controlling action, forcing Adam to make eye contact he’s trying to evade.

“Think fast, Adam. What does he need to hear?” Adam ends up carrying the burden of resolving the abuse inflicted on him, as if it’s his responsibility and not just a deescalating survival tactic. In TRB chapter 32, Blue muses that Adam isn’t often lost for words- but here, he’s scrabbling for words (he’s too panicked for his words/intellect to cooperate). This is another example of Adam’s solution oriented nature (the mechanic, the scientist)- here is a problem; how do I solve it?

“His father drew Adam’s face a bare inch from his, so that Adam could feel the words as well as hear them. ‘You lied to your mother about how much you made.’ ‘I didn’t lie.’ “Do not look in my face and lie to me!’ his father shouted.” This is one of the more visceral, tactile chapters in the book, with the narration appealing to sensation to convey the intensity of the conflict. The physical nature of the scene also highlights the running theme of Adam’s relationship to his body- how it’s integral to his survival but also how he bargains it away and how it betrays him, the duality of mind and body, etc. I’m remembering that in chapter 31, Adam is highly displeased to be accused by Declan of lying. And not that it really matters, but I wonder if Robert not originally realizing how much money Adam has to accumulate in order to cover the remainder of his tuition is due to a) a lie by omission or b) him simply not listening to Adam’s needs in the first place. Robert also keeps invoking Adam’s mother as she stands idly by, perhaps to emphasize that everyone is against Adam, as if Adam alone is in the wrong here. It’s also interesting that the yelling here is italicized rather than capitalized. I don’t think the books are entirely consistent about this, but I believe we see capitalized yelling from Maura, Neeve, and Jesse, at least. Because the characters’ internal monologues are also italicized, we get a visual representation of how Adam’s parents’ cruel statements worm their way into his own self-talk and therefore self-esteem, self-perception, and reflexive victim blaming (Adam later muses that he has some sort of Stockholm syndrome). The italics in external dialogue and internal monologue collectively simulate abuse survivors’ internalization of abusive rhetoric against themselves. It’s also a little impressive how quickly a knot forms in my stomach at hearing a father say the phrase “your mother.” Has anything good ever followed that phrase?

“When his father’s hand hit his cheek, it was more sound than feeling: a pop like a distant hammer hitting a nail. Adam scrambled for balance, but his foot missed the edge of the stair and his father let him fall.” I’m thinking about hands as tools used as weapons (recurring knife motif in the books, especially in TDT, and how Adam works with his hands, offers up his hands to Cabeswater and in the process the demon uses his hands to nearly kill Ronan). Previously, sound and feeling converged; here, they diverge; Adam is possibly dissociated from the violence to some extent (like a distant hammer, more sound than feeling, etc. … a hammer is also a tool that could be used as a weapon). Adam is literally scrambling for balance here (but also does so figuratively at all times and is often quite successful at maintaining his tightly orchestrated and exhausting equilibrium). The precise nature of Adam’s fall here is brutal- the hit doesn’t make him fall, but it knocks him off balance and the subsequent misstep makes him fall, which his father makes no effort to prevent- the abuse not only aggression but neglect, which is to say control in both positive and negative (not good and bad, but additive and subtractive/maliciously neutral) ways.

“When the side of Adam’s head hit the railing, it was a catastrophe of light. He was aware in a single, exploded moment of how many colors combined to make white.” The prose... The pain is absolute, infinite, world-ending. A railing is a safety feature; a parent is obligated to prioritize their child’s safety. Adam’s injury involving the railing is a testament to his parents’ failure to consider his safety at all. When Adam comes to on the ground, his face, especially his mouth, is “caked with dust” (which frequently appears when Adam expresses shame about his roots); I take the dust as a symbol for a dearth of love given that water repeatedly stands in for love and longing. It’s also a reference to Adam from the Bible being made of the earth. I think his mouth being mentioned in particular references his usual ability to talk his way out of scrutiny and concern or hold his own in arguments, but in the trailer park, his words don’t work as weapons.

“Adam had to put together the mechanics of breathing, of opening his eyes, of breathing again.” A bit of a symbolic rebirth moment, coming back to life. Similar sentiment: “a miracle of moving parts, a study in survival.” My original notes for this chapter said, “I do think this could have been revised though- ‘breathing’ is repeated but not rhythmically or frequently enough (in my opinion) to actually simulate the act of deliberately inhaling and exhaling to self-regulate.” But as I’m re-reading, I understand the choice better. It emphasizes that to live, you must breathe, and breathe again, (and this is relentless), which in turn emphasizes the labor Adam puts in to take yet another breath, to keep going (but the effort to breathe is so great that it’s impossible to consider anything past this breath and the next). Maybe it’s not meant to be a cycle but a Sisyphean climb. Adam has to choose his path forward over and over again.

In Adam’s head: “Just go, Ronan.” He thinks this as he’s rising to his feet after his head hits the railing and sees Ronan’s brake lights go on. The light (Adam indirectly associates Ronan with light multiple times in the text) should be a symbol of hope, but Adam is both too proud and too ashamed to want to hope/accept Ronan stepping in on his behalf. Is this the first time someone not-Parrish has observed the abuse first hand and not just lingering evidence of it? Ronan becoming a direct witness is a line they can’t uncross, a truth Ronan can’t un-know.

“’You’re not playing that game!’ Robert Parrish snapped. ‘I’m not going to stop talking about this just because you threw yourself on the ground. I know when you’re faking, Adam. I’m not a fool. I can’t believe you’d make this kind of money and throw it away on that damn school! All of those times you’ve heard us talking about the power bill, the phone?’” There’s just so much awful here- the victim blaming, the immediate trivialization of Adam’s injury, the devaluation of Adam’s education and opportunity for freedom, and the guilt-tripping over financial burdens a child shouldn’t have to cover, the implication that Adam is running some sort of con, etc.

“His father was far from done. Adam could see it in the way he pushed off his feet with every step down the stairs, from the coil in his body. Adam drew his elbows into his body, ducking his head, willing his ears to clear. What he needed to do was put himself in his father’s head, to imagine what he had to say to defuse this situation.” Keen observation of body language, pattern recognition, (and conscious use of empathy – understanding his father’s thoughts to protect himself). We see these behaviors from Adam in a variety of contexts outside his household; his survival tactics have become ingrained, and while they keep him safe and probably make him a better student too, what is the cost? Exhaustion, mistrust, hypervigilance, repression, isolation. Defusing the situation is what Gansey references back in chapter 7- Adam keeping things quiet.

“But he couldn’t think. His thoughts crashed explosively across the dirt in front of him, in time with the rhythm of his heart. His left ear screamed at him. It was so hot that it felt wet.” Re: previous discussion of mind/body duality, dissociation, etc. his thoughts feeling like they’re outside his body in a dynamic/describable way, the distinction between his ear and himself and the pain transmitted between them, etc. An inability to think as a critical loss given his reliance on his perceptive and intelligent nature.

“Grabbing Adam’s collar, he pulled his son up, as easy as he’d lift a dog. Adam stood, but only just. The ground was sliding away from him, and he stumbled. He had to struggle to find the words again; something was fractured inside him.” In this instant, Adam’s body is at the mercy of his father. This is from where his desperate drive for autonomy comes. Gansey fears that something essential in Adam will break- I’d posit that Gansey fears Adam’s inherent goodness or happiness or youth or curiosity or humor will be trampled beyond help; Adam’s fear of something breaking is more along the lines of his self-assumed potential to be violently angry/a threat to others being unleashed, as if his ability to choose to be good will shatter. Dog/collar – what does this evoke? Adam often laments his upbringing through metaphors about animal behavior (he feels cursed by both nurture and nature. I think this observation is in conversation with my earlier questions about Adam’s thoughts on fate). The ground slides away- the foundation of the world moves (much like the earthquake when he sacrifices himself in Cabeswater); the moment is unstable and unsafe; Adam is unsupported. Struggling for words is unusual for sharp-tongued Adam, but he’s too threatened to think as he usually does.

“’To do this,’ Ronan Lynch snarled, smashing his fist into the side of Robert Parrish’s face.” Reading about Ronan swinging at Declan from Gansey’s POV (nooooo) versus Ronan decking Adam’s dad (YES). I get the feeling that Ronan has been waiting for an excuse to do this for a rather long time. A core aspect of Ronan’s character is not hesitating to cause some damage for a cause in which he believes (especially in TD3).

“Beyond him, the BMW sat, the driver’s side door hanging open, headlights illuminating clouds of dust in the darkness.” Ronan (the BMW) being a source of light in a field of dust, taken with Adam finding the light switch in a previous chapter (29) only once Ronan appears -> Ronan as a source of light (probably more accurate to say source of energy) in Adam’s life.

“Out of his right ear, Adam heard his mother screaming at them to stop. She was holding the phone, waving the phone at Ronan like that would make him stop. There was only one person who could stop Ronan, though, and Adam’s mother didn’t have that number.” Adam’s mother has been a silent bystander while Adam’s dad screams and berates and hits Adam, letting him fall and blaming him for “theatrics,” but as soon as Ronan steps in, she yells for the violence to end. Gansey helps mediate the fight in Nino’s parking lot (TRB, 7)- but Gansey (i.e. Ronan’s impulse control) is not here. The bit about Adam’s mother futilely waving the phone of all things at Ronan is so fitting- she’s found the person perhaps most scornful of phones and telephonic communication on earth.

“Get up, Adam. He was on his hands and knees. The sky looked the same as the ground. He felt fundamentally broken. He couldn’t stand. He could only watch his friend and his father grappling a few feet away. He was eyes without a body.” without a body: dissociation from the current pain and overwhelm; foreshadowing to sacrificing his eyes (and hands) to Cabeswater. The empty, unreal sensation of incredulous “how can this actually be happening” is terrible, and he feels it here. (The sky mirroring the ground reminds me of one of my favorite concepts, probably because of the tomb/shroud quote from the Les Mis chapter about the drowning man; the motif is best summarized as “as above, so below”, which is particularly fitting for the Magician.). I can’t help but think of the sky and the ground as mirrors, reflecting one another in perpetuum like Neeve’s in the Fox Way attic, between which Persephone’s soul gets lost from her body. In “my” tv adaptation (or any visual adaptation really) I’d have Adam’s posture on the ground here (before he gets onto his knees) be the same as Persephone’s on the attic floor when she dies scrying. The fight proceeds without Adam; he has lost a say in his narrative for the time being.

“It was all just noise. What Adam needed was to be able to stand, to walk, to think, and then he could stop Ronan before something awful happened.” The cops show up incredibly quickly here, unless the fight is particularly long and/or Adam’s sense of passing time is warped. “What Adam needs” is a recurring and often tense theme in his character arc, and as usual, his needs are linked to a drive for autonomy, capability, and independent action. We get evidence of Ronan and Adam’s developing, mutual, and unspoken care for each other- the instinct to protect the other, often at the expense of their own wellbeing. Adam, while he’s already gravely injured and unbalanced, worries about something awful happening- but something awful HAS happened, has been happening. I’ll go on a bit of a tangent here because “it was all just noise” that Adam wants to filter out reminds me of things like signal to noise ratio, electrical impulses and synapses, electricity and ley lines, and how once Adam becomes the magician, he learns to scry intentionally (metaphor- healing from, or at least understanding, dissociation) and to rewire the ley line (metaphor- rewiring his brain as he heals, eventually distinguishing Cabeswater from his father, and accepts the necessity of connecting with others to do so/accepting the dual risk and reward of love, connection, magic, etc. which are double-edged swords in this context). I’m jumping ahead here, but I think Adam’s awareness of the way in which he takes in data from his environment, synthesizes a response, and acts accordingly is always relevant. Ever the scientist and all that.

“This can’t happen. He can’t go to jail because of me.” This is one of Adam’s sacrifices – pressing charges and losing his home/a say in how and when he leaves the trailer, all to keep Ronan out of jail (and expulsion, and Declan-induced eviction from Monmouth, and self-destruction, et cetera). In some ways, this is The Big Sacrifice of the book (and the bargain with Cabeswater at the climax gives an additional magical and metaphorical layer of commentary? discussion? on how and why Adam makes sacrifices and the consequences that arise from them). There are a lot of similarities between the sacrifices. I haven’t read the latter chapter in a little while, but from memory: “he was eyes without a body” links to “I will be your hands, I will be your eyes,” both of which play into the overarching theme of Adam’s fight for bodily autonomy, dissociation and eventual reintegration of body and mind (BLLB I am alive because I bleed chapter is crucial to this), a focus on his senses and how they become unreliable as he processes the events of the first book, etc. The foundations of Adam’s world figuratively (first sacrifice) and literally (second sacrifice, with the earthquake/stampede) shift beneath his feet. In the center of the pentagram, there is no sound at all. These vestibular and auditory effects of the magical sacrifice emulate detail from the mundane counterpart, which sets up the narrative about Adam learning to distinguish between the two (Cabeswater is not the boss of you, etc.). There’s also the parallel intervention of Ronan/Cabeswater on the behalf of Adam’s safety that forces him to make decisions/confront the consequences, even though Ronan intervening catalyzes Adam’s sacrifice of his pride, autonomy, and home and Cabeswater intervenes against Whelk after Adam sacrifices himself to the forest…much to chew on here. Mirroring experiences, perhaps. I’ll also say that one thing I really appreciate in TRC is that the metaphors don’t obscure the real life experiences (like you pointed out, Adam dissociates because of his magical connection/sacrifice to Cabeswater, but also as he copes with his father’s abuse, so the metaphor enriches and further discusses rather than sanitize the effects of the abuse; another example of this is Ronan’s dreaming, at least in TDT, doesn’t supplant him being gay and the associated identity, isolation, exploration, etc. experiences- the magical counterpart to the real experience is additive, not obfuscating or censoring. [I say at least in TDT because in TD3 I think the dreaming takes on additional metaphorical meaning such as chronic illness, generational trauma, amongst other things).

“He knew he looked drunk. He needed to get himself together. Only this afternoon he’d touched Blue’s face. It had felt like anything was possible, like the world soared out in front of him. He tried to channel that sensation, but it felt apocryphal.” Concern with outward appearance- his injury is internal, so there’s no way for the cops to believe him without his or Ronan’s explanation. The assumed concussion temporarily robs Adam of his resources- clear headedness, analytical skills, etc. “He tried to channel that sensation, but it felt apocryphal” is such a painful and effective way to describe someone grasping for hope and having it slip through their fingers. Adam, whose faith is “imperfect” to start with, is further challenged here. I always think of the word “apocryphal” when I think of this chapter. The infinite (the world soaring out in front of him) previously gave him a sense of optimism, but in this chapter, the infinite mirrors (ground and sky) trap and dwarf him. Blue’s face (which is to say connection with Blue) felt like potential. I think you could interpret this chapter as the beginning of the end for Blue and Adam’s romantic relationship- the attraction and care for one another persists, but there’s a distinct shift in their interactions after this chapter that disconnects them in a way they don’t resolve until after they break up.

Adam replaying what his mother has told him previously to keep the abuse quiet: “Don’t say anything, Adam. Tell him you fell down. It really was a little your fault, wasn’t it? We’ll deal with it as a family.” Encouraging him to keep secrets, to lie, to blame himself, to believe in the guise of a family his parents hide behind (he’s ostracized in his own home for acting “against the good of the family”). This rhetoric from his mother gets woven into his own internal monologue.

“If Adam turned his father in, everything crashed down around him. If Adam turned him in, his mother would never forgive him. If Adam turned him in, he could never come home again.” These statements are written like hypotheses. If _, then _. Scientific. Even though she’s watched him endure so much pain and violence and has done nothing to help him, he grapples with the guilt of leaving behind his mother. This moment is a crucial turning point for Adam, when he’s standing at the crossroads of two of the existing paths described in TRB chapter 15 at his reading. It’s one of several explanations of his hesitation to live somewhere safer, of why the more arduous and painful way of doing things is in some ways easier for him.

“Adam couldn’t move in with Gansey. He had done so much to make sure that when he moved out, it would be on his own terms. Not Robert Parrish’s. Not Richard Gansey’s. On Adam Parrish’s terms, or not at all.” Full names invite the reader to consider [confront?] these characters as complete and distinguishable entities -> what defines each character/what is intrinsic to each?, how can you distinguish their own goals and personal ethos? If Adam succeeds in the world, he can claim all credit. If he fails, he resigns himself to shoulder the blame alone without the messy implications of shared culpability. He doesn’t see anything as worth doing if he can’t do it independently in the way he’s meticulously determined to be optimal, in the way that keeps his pride most intact.

“Adam touched his left ear. The skin was hot and painful, and without his hearing to tell him when his finger was close to his ear cavity, his touch felt imaginary. The whine in the ear had subsided and now there was … nothing. There was nothing at all.” The loss of his hearing is representative of greater loss- of literal (vestibular) and figurative balance (oh by the way do you know what requires good balance…riding a bike), of the ability to observe the world in the precise way in which he observed it before, the curse of an invisible injury he must explain by telling rather than showing as well as the unquantifiable psychological impact of surviving abuse, etc. Adam feels that he has nothing after losing not just half of his hearing but his home, even if said home is dangerous, the opposite of a sanctuary. He ends up at St. Agnes, which he thinks of as “Adam Parrish’s nothing,” something visually unimpressive but valuable in the way that it is his alone, untainted by the authority of others. I’m thinking about “Gansey. That’s all there is.” versus “There was nothing at all.” and how their experiences are so heavily shaped by their families and the associated expectations based on their upbringings and how they worry that others perceive them as their origins rather than their actions. “His touch felt imaginary” echoes the sentiment of Blue’s touch feeling apocryphal; the abuse disconnects Adam from others and from himself.

“Ronan was defending me.” Adam’s mouth was dry as the dirt around them. The officer’s expression focused on him as he went on. “From my father. All this … is from him. My face and my …” A couple observations: Adam breaking his “keeping things quiet” habit to the cops; Ronan has already begun to make him loud. It might just be a function of his injured state but I think Adam referring to Ronan as Ronan, as if anyone would automatically know his name, posits Ronan as some essential figure in Adam’s life (although to be completely fair there are few enough people in this scene to make it obvious to whom Adam’s referring- but I do think the word choice is deliberate, especially since he doesn’t use Lynch, which to an outsider might imply more distance between them). The dirt/dust motif returns as he thinks of his father/his origins; his dry mouth indicates the strain of making this sacrificial confession. And finally, the double entendre of “All this.. is from him. My face and my…” to mean the immediate state of Adam’s injuries but also his pervasive concern that he has inherited his father’s violence and cruelty. We know that Adam resembles his mother more (at least facially), but these books are about mirrors (and Adam looks into them frequently, literally and figuratively), and he’s most concerned about seeing his father looking back at him.

“His mother was staring at him. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at her and say it. Even with his eyes closed, he felt like he was falling, like the horizon pitched, like his head tilted. Adam had the sick feeling that his father had managed to knock something crucial askew. And then he said what he couldn’t say before. He asked, ‘Can I … can I press charges?’” To make this decision is to completely disrupt his carefully planned life; he’s falling into a version of his life he wasn’t prepared to live in yet. Adam’s fear about being permanently altered echoes Gansey’s fears about Adam. I think, on a less central note, his view of Ronan is also knocked askew after this incident (him using violence on behalf of someone other than himself). I’ve been musing on the decision to mention his mother one last time at the end of the chapter, and I think it’s to emphasize the complexity of Adam’s decision (and that he’s considering the repercussions of leaving his mother alone in the trailer with Robert. I think the fact that she doesn’t have a canon first name indicates that she also lacks power and autonomy in the household, or will especially lack such things once Adam leaves).

I think it’s significant that we never see inside the Parrish house- the violence we see on page happens outside. The audacity of Adam’s father to yell at him and assault him on their front steps for anyone to see is…really something. Even in his own POV chapters, which are quite introspective and descriptive, Adam doesn’t let us in to the extent of his life at home (from a meta standpoint, this makes sense- it’s just as effective and less exploitative to characterize the extent and impact of abuse through Adam’s self-image and relationships and behaviors rather than saturating the text with repetitive, gratuitous, and graphic sequences of abuse). And while I’m dancing around the subject of private vs public spheres, I am very interested in discussing Adam in terms of unheimlich/the uncanny and I’m hesitant to do so because so much of it will come from Freud’s essay on the uncanny and with that comes all sorts of cans of worms but there’s something about the domestic vs public spheres and in the home and out of the home (stemming from the etymology of heimlich and unheimlich) and homelessness and Adam’s uncanniness and strangeness (both as in odd and as in foreign/estranged). Freud’s essay even talks about the loss of eyes as a castration metaphor in a different work that I’m forgetting at the moment, but even if we exchange castration for loss of autonomy (which might be a misinterpretation of the text but I’m still percolating), it works so well with I will be your eyes/the demon taking over Adam’s eyes/his visions that begin in TDT chapter 8/the blindfold on Adam and the figure on the two of swords and eight of swords cards, etc. (A lot of associated themes work for Ronan too- the intentional use of the word strange at the beginning of The Dream Thieves and the Lynch brothers’ estrangement from the Barns and Ronan dreaming about going home and him existing of and between two worlds and how these two uncanny and strange characters find themselves in these weird, isolating social valleys and seek a sense of home with from other…) anyway this is hopefully an actual essay I will write someday, but it will require a good amount of reading outside the series.

I did a final read-through of the chapter after I revised my notes to see if I missed anything (and of course I did) and I did want to highlight the switch from “his father” to “Parrish” when Adam describes the brawl that ensues when Ronan hits his dad, which I think serves the purpose reminding us how Adam separates himself from violence as a dissociative coping mechanism, how Ronan’s intervention grants Adam some distance from the situation, etc. but also how Adam views the Parrish name- violent, on the ground, in the dust. I also forgot to consider the purpose of flashing back to Gansey right before Adam makes his sacrifice (to press charges, to keep Ronan out of jail): You won’t leave because of your pride? We’re given a clear example of the circumstances necessary for Adam to give up said pride (it would be reductive but not incorrect to say the circumstances = Ronan).

#rchl #trc #as always i am so open to discussing trc/td3 so please come chat if you want to share your analysis too #also to the very nice person who sent an anon about the mask dream i saw it and i am intending to draft something over the next few days #the raven boys #the raven cycle #adam parrish #ronan lynch

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waiting-on-a-dream · 7 months

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Prisoner 010: Okura Mayumi - Trial 2

General info

Verdict: GUILTY

Physical changes: Mayumi's hair is often tied into a braid now, laid over her shoulder. Unlike the rest of the guilty prisoners, her face isn't pale and she hasn't developed any eyebags. Its likely that she hasn't been plagued by nightmares. Her longer restraints are the only aspect of her uniform that has changed.

Behavioral changes: She's become more reserved and quiet, mostly only talking to Haku as he practices playing the piano. She spends most of her time in her room nowadays, only leaving to ask other prisoners specific questions, as if interrogating them. She just wants to learn the truth about this time.

After talking for a while with Suzume, she now seems to harbor some ill feelings towards her. The air is tense whenever they're in a room together. They always seem to be one wrong move away from snapping at each other. The other prisoners have tried to ask about it, but they refuse to answer. They've been left to sort it out for now.

Trailer art: Mayumi faces you directly, preparing a syringe of medicine with a grim and determined expression. Behind her, two hospital doors with tiny bloody handprints on the frosted window, as if made by children. Blood pools from the gap beneath the doors.

Voicelines

– Second trial trailer

People like you...shouldn't have the right to live.

– Character voice trailer

Its okay. He can't hurt you anymore.

Cover info

Canon Milgram song cover: Purge march (The song ended up being more about Amane defending herself, but I think the guilty part still works for Mayumi.)

DECO*27 song cover: Poison apple (The lyrics and MV gave off her vibes, so I assigned this song to her. Simple as that.)

Non-DECO*27 vocaloid song cover: The world's filth (The lyrics are peak Mayumicore. The music? Not so much. BUT THE LYRICS!)

Music info

Song title: Ecosystem

Song preview: We have no use for you if you can't contribute anything. Everyone has a duty to society. What's your role? To die quietly. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY.

At some point in our lives, we have to ask ourselves. "Am I the kind of person that stands by and does nothing?" So, what's the answer? Prayers do nothing for anyone. Act upon your greatest convictions!

MV description: Half of her MV is filled with slightly faded pastel colours like her first MV. Starting from the scene when she's in her room, most of the frames are dark and foreboding. The last scene is back to being pastel, but the colours are brighter.

The MV starts with a young Mayumi walking through what looks like a career fair. A baker hands out free samples to an an eager batch of children before directing their attention to the cookies baking a nearby oven. A man dressed as a firefighter helps a young boy to am a hose at the "fire" of a fake building. Mayumi looks around with interest, stopping in her tracks when something catches her eye. A group of girls watching intently as a nurse demonstrates bandaging a man's forearm. Intrigued, she heads over.

A montage of Mayumi sitting in class as her teacher points to a food web drawn on a board. A well-dressed man giving a presentation in a meeting. An architect drawing out the blue prints for a building. A taxi driver picking up a couple from the airport. Mayumi peers at a display of fossils from behind a case of glass. Her brother pops up beside her, dragging his plastic dinosaur toy across the glass. She quickly pulls him away.

The camera cuts to present Mayumi searching up information on her victim. His mugshot pops up, along with a list of his victims. She searches their names one by one. Mio. Nozomi. Kagome. Missing posters turn up for all of them.

The audio of a dialing ringtone mixes with the song. Mayumi raises her phone to her ear, presumably calling someone. An elderly woman answers, her face blurred out. Mayumi twirls a bottle of medicine in her hand as she talks. The woman starts to cry, screaming something into the phone. Mayumi waits for a moment before hanging up. The camera zooms out as she continues to sit by her computer desk in the dark room.

A group of girls gathered around another girl, crumpled to the ground while holding a hand to her bruised face. Men gambling at a casino. A drunkard stumbling out of a bar. A news reported talking about a murder that occurred last night, showing CCTV footage of someone getting stabbed outside an office building. Mayumi's victim on his bed. His heart beat slowing to a stop. The ECG flatlines.

The camera cuts to Mayumi sitting by the defendant's table in the courtroom. The judge is her as well, along with the jury. Everyone in the court room is her actually. Judge Mayumi asks the jury to declare their verdict. Jury Mayumi stands up to read from the slip of paper in her hand. She opens her mouth and the screen goes black before their verdict can be revealed. End.

Author's notes

The second picrew didn't have a pencil skirt option, so I have Mayumi white pants instead. She still wears the same uniform as she did in trial 1 though, picrews just don't always work out.

Picrews used: - https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/1458900 - https://picrew.me/image_maker/1820833

#I don't like how her second picture looks like Makima #milgram #milgram oc #ocgram #prisoner 010: okura mayumi

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eenadu-varthalu · 2 years

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Ponniyin Selvan has been watched (at a rather very late time last night) so here’s my review? (though I am in no position to review a mani ratnam film)

(I would like to emphasize this is my personal opinion and I would not like to start a war. There’s already one happening on Twitter if you’d like to go pick a bone)

Would I say this is the best Mani Ratnam film I’ve watched? No.

Would I say it’s his best from the past decade?. Heck yeah!

The movie (like one kind person said on this app) is fast paced and slow paced. If you’ve read atleast the first book, you’ll realize how jam packed the scenes are but if you’re clueless as to who the heck even the cholas are, this is gonna be one heck of a slow ride for you.

This movie is COMPLETELY different from the rajamouli periodic films (because some idiots on Twitter are comparing it to baahubali). There are barely any elevations, and the actors are very simply, just there when it’s time (in fact the only character that gets “a proper intro” is Aditya Karikalan, and it’s literally just him riding his horse through mist). Everything is super subtle and more pleasing on the aesthetic side. It’s more like an art film, like the ones of Kurosawa, than it is a commercial one like Rajamouli’s.

(Although, I actually am very interested to see how rajamouli would utilize a LOADED story like ponniyin selvan)

If you are planning on watching this movie, I would recommend reading the character descriptions on Wikipedia, because guess what? Mani sir does it again. Like in Chekka Chivantha Vaanam, every character has an important role, but mani sir is practically running out of time to explore the characters deep enough, so we just get mere glances into who they actually are.

BUT THE ACTING (my lord the acting) does HEAVILY compensate for that. Simple glances, body language, voice modulations, if one observes carefully, they can understand what type of a person said character is.

For me personally, Karthi (my man), Trisha, and Aishwarya Rai SWEPT ME OFF MY FEET. Karthi is AMAZING as Vandiyadevan. Trisha and Aishwarya Rai can step on me and I WILL APOLOGIZE. My god. Their initial face off scene is one of, if not the best scene for me in the movie. (Also Vandiyadevan is one hell of a mood for simping over literally EVERYONE in this movie).

In the very little screen time that is given, Chiyaan Vikram is ABSOLUTELY fantastic (pleaseeee more characters where he actually acts and not just shows is skill of being versatile) and so is the rest of the main cast, Jayam Ravi, Aishwarya Lekshmi and Shobitha. They’re on for very little, but when they are, you will not be able to take your eyes off of them.

And finally. The man of the hour. The person who literally carried this movie like Ponni did Arul Mozhi Varman. ISAI PUYAL AR RAHMAN. My god what did we do to deserve him? Many said the songs slowed down the pace, but honestly it kind of worked for me. And the BACKGROUND SCORE. HOLY CRAP IM GONNA NEED THAT OST. Super unique score and it kind of reminded me of Thiruda Thiruda (Donga Donga) Rahman where he just experiments with different styles and it works wonders. My personal favorite has to be the one that plays during the entire act of Kundavai and Nandini meeting for the first time. Some others are definitely when Vandiyadevan and Kundavai meet (and, of course, Vandiyadevan falls for her) and the ending of Chola Chola.

That is all. Sorry it’s ridiculously long.

#ponniyin selvan #mani ratnam #ar rahman #karthi #aishwarya rai #trisha #chiyaan vikram #jayam ravi #aishwarya lekshmi #shobita dhulipala

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acacia-may · 9 months

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See What It's Like To Be Loved (Kelbrey Fanfiction)

Description: Sunny's plans to propose to Cris prompt Aubrey and Kel to discuss the future of their own relationship.

Relationships: Established Relationship Kelbrey (Romantic Kel x Aubrey)-Centric, but Established Relationship Sunfish (Romantic Sunny/Cris) is also mentioned.

Characters: Aubrey (POV Character), Kel, and Sunny. (Cris, Hero, & Basil are mentioned).

Genre: Slice of Life, Romance, Established Relationship, Aged-Up Characters, Pre-Proposal, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Good Ending, Aubrey Has Family Issues and Abandonment Issues, Some Fluff, Declarations of Love, Some Angst But With A Happy Ending,

Word Count: 4,071

Rating: G

Warnings: Some Spoilers for OMORI! Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death, and Implied/Referenced family issues & abandonment issues. Kissing.

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another website. All other interaction (likes, reblogs ect.) appreciated!

A/N: The title is a reference to a line in the song "Strawberry Sunscreen" (YouTube) by Lostboycrow (which is on my Kelbrey playlist 😉).

Story below the cut. Thank you so much for reading! 💕

“It’s beautiful, Sunny,” sighed Aubrey with a kind smile as she stared down at the ring glistening in the small velvet box Sunny had set on the table in front of her and Kel. She blinked at it in shock and surprise that she tried her best to hide. When Sunny had asked if he could get their opinion on something before he headed out for the evening, she had not been expecting him to pull an engagement ring out of his pocket. After all, Sunny and Cris had started dating almost a year after she and Kel had, and they certainly weren’t engaged yet. She supposed every couple took things at their own pace, but since Sunny was usually so shy about his relationship, she had, albeit wrongfully, assumed he and Cris were taking things very slow.

Kel, it seemed, had not made this assumption, however, as he enthusiastically exclaimed, “Congratulations! This is great!” and quickly pulled Sunny into a tight hug and gave him a congratulatory pat on the back with not even a hint of shock or surprise.

With a curious tilt of her head, Aubrey wondered if Sunny had given Kel more of a heads up about his plans to propose. It was difficult to imagine since Sunny didn’t talk much to begin with and, as far as Aubrey knew, was usually very shy about his relationship, and even if he wasn’t, Kel had assured Aubrey multiple times that they never really discussed their love lives with each other. She wouldn’t have minded if they did, as long as Kel didn’t share anything too personal or private about her. Seeing as they were all mutual friends, it would be awkward both for them and for Sunny if he was privy to a lot of intimate details about their relationship, and to be fair, she didn’t feel it was her or Kel’s place to know a lot of intimate details about Sunny relationship either, even if, at least according to Sunny, Kel had, supposedly, set him up with Cris in the first place. The details were all a little fuzzy since Kel swore he hadn’t been setting them up on purpose and didn’t even know that’s what he had been doing, but Sunny was very insistent and very grateful that Kel had played a formative role in their relationship. Aubrey shrugged. Maybe he had involved Kel in proposal plans, if only for that reason. Still...Aubrey had to admit it was surprising that he was showing off the ring to them.

Sunny’s mouth twitched in the corners as the lightest tint of pink flushed in his pale cheeks, but he managed a nod at both her and Kel in turn and a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Cris is going to love it!” added Kel practically beaming at them.

Thoughtfully, Sunny pursed his lips together, but it seemed he couldn’t hold back his smile. Aubrey’s expression softened. It was nice to see him so happy.

“I hope so…” he said.

“Of course she is,” reassured Kel, draping an arm around Sunny’s shoulders. “I mean it looks like a seashell—it’s perfect!”

Aubrey’s jaw fell a bit slack as she tilted her head at the ring again. She hadn’t realized it before, but now that Kel had mentioned it, she could see that the jewels were cut and arranged in such a way that actually did look like a seashell—a gold and diamond seashell with a beautiful pearl in the center. Wow, thought Aubrey. It must have cost Sunny a small fortune, and where would he even find a ring like that? Did he have it custom made?

“I went to that place you told me about,” said Sunny turning to Kel who just smiled. Aubrey blinked at them. Wait…what?

“Ah, cool! I’m glad it worked out.”

“Hold on,” Aubrey interrupted. “You told Sunny about a jewelry store?”

Kel shrugged with a laugh. “Hey, don’t look so surprised. You don’t know what I do in my free time,” he teased shooting her a wide, toothy grin, but Sunny’s eyebrows twitched and the blush in his face deepened. Aubrey’s brow furrowed, and she swallowed hard. Oh no. No. There was no way…

Aubrey took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. If this really was what she thought, that would mean Kel had ordered his ring before Sunny, and there was no way that Kel would have been able to keep that a secret for so long. He would have told her or at least given some indication that he was planning to propose to her…right?

“You okay?” asked Kel with a concerned tilt of his head. “You’re looking kind of pale. You need to sit down or something? I can get you some water…”

“Uh, no,” she stumbled over her words, rubbing her hand across her forehead. “No. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.”

“Kel—” she began but stopped abruptly. She knew the answer to the question she wanted to ask as soon as she met his eyes. Her heart raced, but her insides coiled and twisted. She didn’t know how she felt—shocked, happy, worried, excited, terrified, overwhelmed…angry? No, that wasn’t right. That last one was unexpected, especially given how much she loved him. She was mostly just…scared. Her hands began to tremble, but she rose to her full height on shaking legs.

“Do you…have a ring?” The question just slipped out before she could stop it.

“Huh?” Kel’s eyes widened, and he blinked at her dumbfounded, before a sheepish smile tugged at his mouth and he rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck. “Oh…uh…well…”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled a particularly red Sunny who Aubrey was sorry to say she had completely forgotten about.

“No, it’s fine, Sunny,” Kel awkwardly reassured him before turning to her in confusion. “Aubrey, uh…” He stopped. “Do you really want to talk about this now?”

She took a shaky breath, and her face grew hot. “Right…Sorry, Sunny.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, but he wouldn’t look at her. He added hurriedly, “I’m actually supposed to meet Cris.”

“Are you gonna propose tonight?” asked Kel, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere.

Sunny shrugged. “I dunno.” He stumbled around, awkwardly gathering his things, and Aubrey could have sworn she saw him glance over at her before he added, “I think I’ll ask if I can first.”

Aubrey cursed under her breath, then started to trip over her words. “Sunny…Cris loves you. If you want to propose you—” She stopped. “That’s not what…”

As her voice trailed off, Sunny just blinked at her then mumbled. “Okay.” He paused, and his expression was frustratingly unreadable. “Thanks. Bye.”

“Sunny…” Aubrey called after him, but within moments he had darted out of the front door. With a heavy sigh, Aubrey buried her face in her hands and wondered if she had ever seen him run out of the house so quickly. She cursed under her breath again.

“It’s okay,” Kel reassured her gently running his hand across her back. “Sunny just hates conflict—almost as much as Hero,” he added with a chuckle. “We’ll just apologize to him later. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I feel terrible,” she mumbled, mentally kicking herself at her outburst.

“You want that water?”

“That’s not what I meant…” Aubrey sighed, but Kel disappeared into the kitchen anyway. While she waited for him to return, she glanced over at the clock. Hero would probably be walking through the door any minute, and she had no idea where Basil was but he could be home soon too. Aubrey sighed again. They needed to save them from also being unwitting witnesses to this…personal discussion—an unfortunate side-effect of them being roommates with Kel, she supposed.

“Do you think we could talk outside?” she suggested, gesturing at the sliding doors to the deck Kel had built on the back of the house.

“Okay,” said Kel with a nod as he handed her a glass of water. “Do you want me to get it?”

Confusedly, Aubrey tilted her head. “Get what?”

“The ring.”

Her chest tightened, but she opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck. “You have it here?”

“Yeah, uh…Hero said I could keep it in his safety deposit box at the bank, but I dunno, I just didn’t feel right about that. I’ve been keeping it in my sock drawer,” he chuckled. “With my clean socks, of course.”

“How long have you had it?”

Kel shrugged then closed the sliding door behind him and took a seat next to her on the outdoor sofa. “A couple of months. I had to special order it, so it took a while to come in.”

“Were you going to tell me about it?”

“Eventually…” Kel teased, but his smile faded, replaced by a certain helplessness in his eyes that made her heart ache. “Are you unhappy?”

Aubrey sighed, then evaded the question. “I just thought we talked about this—decided it was too soon and we weren’t ready.”

“No,” he gently corrected. “You decided it was too soon and you weren’t ready, and I said that was okay and I can wait until you are…which is exactly what I said the time before that and the time before that and the time before that.” Kel stopped and let out a heavy sigh, before he tilted his head towards her and gently teased, “You can’t be surprised I want to marry you. I keep bringing it up.”

A smile twitched in the corners of Aubrey’s mouth, and she stifled a chuckle in spite of herself but sighed. “I just…I didn’t expect you to have a ring already. I thought we’d…talk about that before you actually bought one.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I just wanted to surprise you, and the last time we talked about it you said that you knew you wanted to marry me someday, so I guess I was just hoping it was someday soon. I wasn’t going to ask you until you told me you were ready… I just didn’t see the harm in having it for whenever that was.”

Aubrey supposed he had a point. It was very practical, but… “That’s just such a big step, Kel. I just don’t want to rush it.”

“Aubrey, we’ve been together for years now, and we’ve known each other most of our lives. I don’t know how we could possibly take things any slower,” he chuckled lightly, but his expression softened. “I think at this point you know me better than anybody else on this planet—maybe even better than I know myself. If after all of that, you still don’t know if you want to marry me, then what are we even doing?”

“Kel, I…” Her voice cracked. That wasn’t fair. “You know that I want to marry you eventually. I just…want make sure that we’re ready.”

“Yes, you keep saying that, but what do you mean by ‘ready’?” he asked with a long exhale and an almost helpless shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not sure anybody can be completely ready because it’s always going to be a little scary but mostly exciting. If you’re waiting to feel 100% sure, I’m just not sure that’s ever going to happen.”

“Kel, I don’t think you’re thinking this all the way through. It’s a big decision. It means forever.” Swallowing hard, Aubrey curled her trembling hands into fists. “I just want you to be sure about this—sure that you aren’t going to change your mind.”

“I’m not going to change my mind. I already spent three months’ salary on that ring.”

Aubrey gasped. “Wait…you spent how much?”

“I read about it online,” shrugged Kel with far more nonchalance than Aubrey felt the situation warranted. “It’s a tradition.”

“Kel, you didn’t have to…” she began, but he cut her off.

“It’s really pretty. It doesn’t look like a seashell or anything, but I got it in rose gold so it’s pink—your favorite color, like your hair used to be.” He playfully ruffled his hand through her hair with a warm, affectionate smile. “You sure you don’t want to see it?”

“No, I…” Aubrey turned away from him, staring intently at her hands. “I wasn’t talking about the ring, Kel. I meant the marriage—our marriage. What if you wake up one day and realize you’ve made a huge mistake? And decide you don’t want to be married to me anymore?”

“Aubrey…” He pressed his palm to her cheek, tilting her head until she was looking up at him again. “I love you. I’m not going to change my mind about that.”

Her heart raced, but she clinched her hands into fists. She wanted to believe him. She wished she could, but… “Talk is cheap, Kel.”

He tilted his head at her in confusion, and before she could even think to stop them, the words began to race out of her mouth, “Sure it’s easy to say that now when things are good and you want to get married, but what about when things get hard? Have you even thought about that? It’s not always going to be like this—life is hard, Kel, and things will eventually get difficult. And when that happens, actually sticking around will be really hard, and it’ll just be easier to pack up your stuff and leave.” As her eyes burned, tears began to prickle behind them. “And those words—those ‘I love you’s—they can’t change that. They can’t stop someone from leaving. Believe me, if they could, my—” Her voice hitched, and she stopped abruptly. She had already said much more than she had meant to.

“Aubrey”—he said her name with such an aching sadness, a helplessness that made her chest pang—“Aubrey, please don’t cry.”

With a gasp, she held her hand up to her face, catching the tears which had somehow struggled free from her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. Sniffling, she resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. It was by no means the first time she had cried in front of Kel, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

As Kel wrapped his arms around her, she pressed her chin to his shoulder and began to tremble, tightly closing her eyes, trying to will herself not to cry anymore. “I’m sorry,” he said, running a comforting hand through her hair. “I’m really sorry about your parents, but I’m not your dad. I’m not going anywhere.”

“He wasn’t the only one who left.”

Aubrey hadn’t realized she had said those words aloud until she felt Kel’s shoulders stiffen as his arms turned rigid, his hands recoiling from her. The pain that crossed over his stormy eyes as he pulled away from her made her insides twist—a lump forming in her throat. She wished she could shove her thoughtless words back into her mouth.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked, the hitch in his voice betraying that he was far more sad than angry. “You know how much I regret that—how sorry I am that I wasn’t there when you needed me. I was a stupid kid, Aubrey, trying to deal with things way too complicated for a kid to have to deal with. I never wanted to hurt you. I just felt so useless.”

His voice cracked, and he paused, catching his shaking breath before he said apologetically, “I know that’s not an excuse, and if I could do it all over again, I would do everything differently—not just with you but with Hero and Sunny and Basil too. But we don’t get that option, and I don’t think it’s fair for you to hold me to that one mistake, even if it was a big one.”

“Kel, I’m sorry. I’m not…” she began, but she didn’t even know what she was trying to say. She took a long deep breath then admitted, “That hurt me, but I’m not still angry about it. I mean, that time after Mari’s death was…” Something panged and twisted in her chest, even after all this time. She couldn’t find the words to describe it. There were some things in life that were too painful to name. “A really bad time for all of us. It definitely brought out the worst in me, and then after my dad left, I just…I started taking all that out on everybody else, including you, and I’m sorry about that too.”

“It’s okay. I have no hard feelings,” he reassured her, running his hand across her back again. “Things are different now. I’m different and so are you. That was all I was trying to say. We’re not going to make the same mistakes again—at least I know I’m not.”

“I don’t know, Kel…” sighed Aubrey, sniffling with burning eyes. “Sometimes I feel like that angry girl with a nail bat is still in me—still hating the world, pushing everybody away, and trying to protect herself before…” Her voice trailed, but the look in Kel’s eyes told her that she didn’t need to finish that sentence. She fidgeted in her seat, feeling suddenly exposed, vulnerable. Swallowing hard, she changed directions. “I just…I feel like if you knew that, if you really knew that, you wouldn’t want to marry me.”

“That’s not true,” Kel insisted, but Aubrey sighed, tilting her head at him questioningly.

“You’re sure you want to marry a nail-bat girl?” she teased, but her voice hitched and wavered.

“You know I always kind of thought that nail bat thing was badass—even if you did hit me with it a couple of times.” He gave her a reassuring smile before he bantered with a teasing grin. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we got married in that church where we had that fight? Like you’re walking down the aisle, and it’s the same aisle where you—”

“Kel,” she interrupted with a pointed glare, but he merely shrugged as he watched the smile twitching in the corners of Aubrey’s mouth. He always did this—tried to make her laugh with they fought. She twisted her mouth to one side with a somewhat begrudging concession. It usually worked.

“Made you smile though,” he said before his expression softened, and he tilted his head towards her. “I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Aubrey. Yeah, I mean, I know all about your nail-bat delinquent phase—I was there, so don’t you think that if I really wanted out, that would’ve been it? I mean, if I didn’t really love you, I’d just be like ‘yeah, this girl fought me in a church with a nail bat, so she’s probably not the one…’” he teased with a laugh, and Aubrey stifled a chuckle of her own in spite of herself.

“Would it kill you to take this seriously?” she bantered dryly.

“I am being serious,” he insisted with an expression that was so affectionate and so sincere, it brought a blush to her face. “I love you, Aubrey, and I’m not going anywhere and I’m not changing my mind. I’ve wanted to marry you since like our 5th date.” He laughed, but her brow furrowed. She couldn’t be entirely sure if he was joking or not.

“Our 5th date?” she repeated, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I don’t even think I remember our 5th date.”

Kel chuckled, but his face seemed to light up. “We went to the movies—I don’t remember which one, but afterwards we went for a quick walk in the park. You still had some of your soda left so you were finishing that off on our walk, and I made you laugh so hard that soda came out of your nose.”

Aubrey pressed her palm to her forehead and shook her head as her cheeks burned. “Oh, I remember that. It was so embarrassing.”

“No, it was adorable,” Kel insisted with a bright smile. “And I just remember thinking: ‘I want to make you laugh like that forever.’”

He paused—something ardent and wistful in his eyes. “It was just the first time I really thought about that—us being together forever. I didn’t dwell on it too much, but as time went on, I thought about it again and again, until finally I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” Reaching out to her, he gently stroked his hand across her damp cheek, catching one of the lingering tears with his thumb. “And I do, Aubrey. I want to spend forever with you—want to settle down and have family, grow old together and someday when we’re both gray and wrinkly, I want to make you laugh so hard that prune juice comes out of your nose…”—he chuckled—“or whatever it is that old people drink. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

Aubrey laughed, and the words slipped out without her even needing to think about them. “I love you.”

His warm eyes lit up—beaming at her as he gently pushed a piece of hair out of her face, “I love you too, and I will love you forever. That’s why I want to get married. I want to promise you that, promise you that I’m not going anywhere, so we can start the rest of our life together. I know forever is a long time, but I’m not scared of it. Honestly, it really can’t come fast enough.”

“Kel…” She pressed her palm to his cheek, the tips of her fingers tangling in his hair.

“I don’t know what else I can say or do to convince you that I love you and that that isn’t ever going to change. I’m always going to be here—you’re probably going to get sick of me,” he joked with a bright grin before his face softened, something so ardent, so sincere in his eyes as they met hers. Aubrey’s breath caught in her throat. The way he looked at her… She didn’t know what it was that he saw. “At a certain point, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

He let out a breathy chuckle as Aubrey’s hand tangled in the hair on the back of his head. She pulled him towards her, watched as his eyes fluttered closed and he gently cupped her face in his hands. He leaned forward and kissed her, slow and gentle but longing. As her eyes closed, she sighed against his mouth—finally letting go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

When they broke apart from each other, Aubrey lingered mere inches from his face. “I do trust you, and I love you, Kel.”

She could feel the warmth of his breath as he laughed. “Enough to marry me?” he teased, and though she could feel the blush in her face, she pressed her palm to his cheek.

“Yes.”

He pulled away sharply, and his eyes widened. “Woah, seriously?” Aubrey’s blush deepened, but she shrugged her shoulders. “You want me to get that ring, now?”

“You really want to propose in your backyard?” she bantered.

Kel’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Usually it’s somewhere more…” She paused trying to think of that right word. “special.”

“Okay, princess,” he teased, rolling his eyes though there was something playful and affectionate in them. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know…it would be nice if somebody could get a picture of it.”

“Basil, maybe?” hummed Kel. “But then we’d probably have to invite Sunny and Hero too so they wouldn’t feel left out, so we’d have to find some place that was big enough for them all to hide.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why would they have to hide?”

“Because I want to surprise you.”

Aubrey laughed. “Good luck with that. I already know it’s coming.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know when. Now that you’ve given me the greenlight, I can propose whenever I want,” he bantered, but he beamed at her. “I won’t wait too long though, don’t worry.” He ruffled her hair before she laughed, and he wrapped his arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder watching the sun disappear below the trees at the edge of the yard.

“I’m not worried,” she said. And she wasn’t. Not anymore.

#kelbrey #omori baseball #omori baseball bat #omori sunfish #sunfish omori #my writing #i wrote this instead of sleeping #thank you for reading!

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frozenjokes · 9 months

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Hermitdragons AU Masterpost

(Aka brief hermitcraft but mostly third life/wings of fire AU)

Welcome to my wings of fire AU! This story takes place in the wof universe using history from the first ten books, but very little prior knowledge is needed to read! Everything you need to know will be included in this post.

Wings of Fire Important Context

Dragon tribes are separated into several different species: Nightwings, Skywings, Rainwings, Mudwings, Icewings, and Seawings. I highly recommend looking up the species descriptions, but it isn't super necessary, most are intuitive.

Most necessary is that Nightwings, when born under a full moon, can be given one of two powers; mind reading or future sight. Mind readers have special teardrop scales by their eyes.

There’s also animus magic, an extremely rare power any dragon tribe can possess. All you need to know about animus magic is that it has literally no limits, but it is rumored that using it too much can make you lose your soul. That last part probably won't be too relavent though.

Main Ways To Interact

The main story is being written down on AO3! You can read it here, but if you don’t want to dive into a novel length fic, the main story will be summarized below.

Also making an experimental comic. I’m not taking it far, it’s just practice! Find the first page here.

I also make a lot of art! take a scroll through the hermitdragons au tag!

Starting now, information below contains major spoilers for the official fic.

Characters and Designs

most character designs are very subject to change, the only consistent designs as of right now are Grian, Scar, and Martyn

Grian (Nightwing disguised as a Skywing) - Animus dragon born to a group of Nightwings who used his magic to make themselves gods called the Nightwatchers. Using this power, all other Nightwings and animus dragons were murdered. Grian is extremely sheltered, and after finally being able to attend school, he ends up telling Scar some Nightwatcher secrets. As punishment, he and many classmates are put into a death game. Can read minds.

Scar (Rainwing) - A member of Grian’s school dorm. Thanks to the information given by Grian, he ends up setting off a chain of events that leads to Martyn’s capture. These memories are erased before the death game. Partnered with Grian in the death game, trying to convince him to turn against the Nightwatchers.

Martyn (Seawing with distant Nightwing heritage) - Raised in a deep sea Listener cult and prophesized to be able to defeat the Nightwatchers. Due to [SPOILERS] he is immune to Nightwing powers and resists the affects of animus magic. Only found out because of Scar’s unprotected mind figuring out what he was doing. Put in the death game in an attempt to figure out how he was able to hide for so long. Blind. Can read minds. Did not attend school.

Ren (Mudwing/Icewing hybrid) - A member of Grian’s school dorm. Partnered with Martyn in the death game. After finding out that Martyn believes the death game is a form of capital punishment for him specifically, Ren is determined to make sure Martyn wins, in a hope they won’t permanently kill him.

Scott (Seawing/Rainwing hybrid) - Martyn’s friend from before the death game. Born in a separate Listener cult than Martyn, where he learned strategies to protect his mind from mind readers. Quite talented at it! Partnered with Jimmy in the death game.

Pearl (Icewing) - A member of Grian’s school dorm. I literally forgot she wasn’t in third life so uh. She’s here now. Hanging in the crastle!

BigB (Seawing) - A member of Grian’s school dorm.

Skizz (Skywing) - doesn’t play a big role

Tango (Sandwing) - guys I have no idea what he did in third life but he’s not relevant here jbJdhdjd

Cleo (???) - doesn’t play a big role

Bdubs (Rainwing) - doesn’t play a big role

Joel (Sandwing) - doesn’t play a big role

Jimmy (normal ass human) - the Nightwatchers put him in the death game as a joke. Granted the ability to speak with dragons and nothing else. Will get squished like a bug forever.

Etho (Icewing) - doesn’t play a big role

Impulse (Mudwing) - doesn’t play a big role

Story Recap

There are two planned fics, one covering the events of Third Life and prior, and one continuing with Last Life, Double Life, and Limited Life. Future seasons will not be included, as there is already a planned ending.

Book 1 - Ruler of Everything - work in progress

Prologue Chapters - Grian’s hatching and early life before putting his magic into a book for the Nightwatchers to use. He is being manipulated from an early age into the Nightwatcher philosophy.

Chapters 1-6 - After centuries of immortality, Grian longs to experience life as a normal dragon. He has never had anyone his age to play with or talk so, so he asks permission to attend Jade Mountain academy for a semester. His request is accepted. Here he meets Scar, Pearl, Ren, and BigB, his dorm-mates, and has a grand ol time. Just kidding! He’s a disaster with a criminal staring problem! Scar and Pearl in particular help him to acclimate to life with other dragons, and after his entire winglet comes to the conclusion he was raised in a Skywing cult, (which Grian vehemently denies) they give it their all to teach him about normal life.

One problem. Grian can NOT take a hint. After borderline harassing Scar over the Nightwatchers and how cool they are, Scar snaps and Pearl intervenes, pulling Grian aside to yell at him for being an insensitive asshole. The Nightwatchers don’t like that! Grian’s mother attacks and threatens Pearl and takes him out of school for a couple weeks to make sure he stays properly indoctrinated. After he is allowed to return, the entire dorm agrees never to speak about Nightwatchers again.

Well, until the end of the school year that is. After the rest of the dorm leaves, Scar tries to convince Grian to join him in the rainforest and run away from his cult. Fearing what the Nightwatchers would do if he dared try that, but not wanting Scar to believe he’s genuinely a bad dragon, he tells Scar about the Nightwatcher’s animus magic, and what they might do to the Rainwings if they tried to protect him from them. Scar lets him go, a new determination that the Nightwatchers need to be stopped.

Chapters 7-11 - Twenty year pass. Grian grows apathetic towards his years at the academy, and keeps himself busy by watching all the new death games the Nightwatchers are trying out. That is, until he gets put into one. Every dragon involved belonged to the academy except two (Scott and Martyn), and only one dragon knows he’s here against his will. Enter Martyn, a Seawing that Grian quickly learns can read minds. He and Grian briefly fight before Martyn runs away, but they fight again after Grian lets Scar die by snake bite. Because Martyn can read minds, he knows this was done on purpose, but the other dragons separate them before Grian also dies. Martyn tells everyone Grian is a Nightwatcher and everyone thinks he’s crazy <\3 Grian does feel bad though, and tries to make it up to Scar by committing his first life to him. Scar accepts.

Typical third life events. Pizza! Reputation points. Desert tower. Enchanter shenanigans. Uh oh! Scar has fallen into a ravine and died. “Can we still be friends?” In this au, red lives had a magic induced bloodlust that worsens over time, and Scar is really struggling with this at first. Grian says it’s okay :D you’ll like it eventually! Scar is not amused. Ends with Grian convincing Scar to build a trap, and the two of them steal Martyn and Ren’s enchanting table.

Chapters 12-15 - That night, Martyn finds Grian sleeping in the desert, pins and silences him, and demands answers on how to escape the death game. Grian doesn’t have those answers. Martyn realizes that Grian isn’t actually valued by the Nightwatchers, and is basically useless to him. Martyn begins to mock him for this, and Grian escapes his pin, starting a fight that wakes Scar up. Just as Martyn is about kill Grian, Scar distracts him long enough for Grian to breathe fire, weakening Martyn enough for Scar to finish the job.

Grian admits everything to Scar. That he’s a Nightwatcher, was an animus, what he knows of Martyn’s role in everything, and the mind reading. Both dragons believe that Martyn won’t come back to life, but he isn’t immune to animus magic, he only resists it. The healing process is extremely slow and painful. After some time to process, Scar believes that Grian could be a valuable resource for a Nightwatcher rebellion, and is willing to stick with him. Grian is unsure. Once Martyn is revived, Scar walks him back to Dogwarts.

Next morning, Grian and Scar set up the trap, aiming for Ren, not Martyn. They meet, and ally themselves with Scott and Jimmy. The trap ends up killing Jimmy, Skizz, and Ren, and due to some Nightwatcher quirks, the suffering of this whole endeavor drives Grian a little bit nutty. He has a whole laughing thing and everyone is uncomfortable/kind of having the life drained out of them. Martyn stops Grian’s from accidentally hurting anyone else by stopping his breathing, and he and Scar go back. Neither of them are very happy.

Intermission - Martyn POV for the beheading scene. Ren is Not Happy and very afraid he won’t be able to protect them without being red. He gifts Martyn a ceremonial spear to kill him with. Martyn does not want to do this, and confesses he doesn’t think he will be coming back to life after the death game. Ren promises to do everything in his power to make Martyn the winner, but first, he needs to be red. Martyn gives in.

Chapters 17-19 - Scott and Jimmy keep visiting the desert to try and meet with Scar, but only Grian is home the entire day, and they are avoiding him like the plague. After confronting them, Scott forces Grian to leave them alone using the strategies he learned from his upbringing for dealing with mindreaders. Grian asks Scar later why they hate him. Scar says oh yeah they know you’re a Nightwatcher now and think you’re super evil after the laughing thing. Grian is not happy, and lies to Scar so he can meet Scott and Jimmy alone.

Grian surprises/scares shitless Scott and Jimmy the next day. He tries to give them gifts, but forgets where he put them, and Scott tries again to get Grian to leave them alone using his anti mind reader skills. This backfires, as Grian loses himself in Scott’s mind and accidentally lashes out in an attempt to get him to stop. Jimmy, who is red, attacks Grian in retaliation, and after doing considerable damage, is stopped by Grian. The three of them have an actual talk and Scott puts together that the Nightwatchers used Scar to find Martyn, and are trying to use Grian to figure out Martyn’s secrets. Grian commits himself to side against the Nightwatchers, angry with how they have manipulated him and how the lives of his friends and others mean nothing to them.

Then, Scar returns with a Dogwarts shield, running away from Ren, Martyn, and Skizz. Something is very clearly wrong with him. Scar, Scott, and Jimmy make it through the cactus wall (made of explosives in this au) but Grian gets a little trampled, leaving him outside with Ren, Martyn, and Skizz. Scar tells them not to come further, or he will have Grian blow up the cacti wall, killing the four. Everyone is concerned about the fact Scar is commanding Grian to blow himself up. Ren backs down. Scott argues with Scar after, angry with how he was using Grian, but quickly realizes Scar is on the verge of attacking his own allies and pivots to talking him down for that Red Life Rage. Scar has a big breakdown about the whole thing after. Grian comforts him. That is, until the Dogwarts folks start shooting for Pizza. Grian does his best to get to her, but he is too late. Pizza is dead.

will be updated

Book 2 - Mechanical Hands (working title) - not started