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sylvielauffeydottir · 3 years

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Hello, it is I, your friendly neighborhood historian. I am ready to lose followers for this post, but I have two masters degrees in history and one of my focuses has been middle eastern area studies. Furthermore, I’ve been tired of watching the world be reduced to pithy little infographics, and I believe there is no point to my education if I don’t put it to good use. Finally, I am ethnically Asheknazi Jewish. This does not color my opinion in this post — I am in support of either a one or two state solution for Israel and Palestine, depending on the factors determined by the Palestinian Authority, and the Israeli Government does not speak for me. I hate Netanyahu. A lot. With that said, my family was slaughtered at Auschwitz-Birkenau. I have stood in front of that memorial wall at the Holocaust memorial in DC for my great uncle Simon and my great uncle Louis and cried as I lit a candle. Louis was a rabbi, and he preached mitzvot and tolerance. He died anyway.

There’s a great many things I want to say about what is happening in the Middle East right now, but let’s start with some facts.

In early May, there were talks of a coalition government that might have put together (among other parties, the Knesset is absolutely gigantic and usually has about 11-13 political parties at once) the Yesh Atid, a center-left party, and the United Arab List, a Palestinian party. For the first time, Palestinians would have been members of the Israeli government in their own right. And what happened, all of the sudden? A war broke out. A war that, amazingly, seemed to shield Benjamin Netanyahu from criminal prosecution, despite the fact that he has been under investigation for corruption for some time now and the only thing that is stopping a real investigation is the fact that he is Prime Minister.

Funny how that happened.

There’s a second thing people ought to know, and it is about Hamas. I’ve found it really disturbing to see people defending Hamas on a world stage because, whether or not people want to believe it, Hamas is a terrorist organization. I’m sorry, but it is. Those are the facts. I’m not being a right wing extremist or even a Republican or whatever else or want to lob at me here. I’m a liberal historian with some facts. They are a terrorist organization, and they don’t care if their people die.

Here’s what you need to know:

There are two governments for the occupied Palestinian territories in the West Bank and Gaza. In April 2021, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas postponed planned elections. He said it was because of a dispute amid Israeli-annexed East Jerusalum. He is 85 years old, and his Fatah Party is losing power to Hamas. Everyone knows that. Palestinians know that.

Here’s the thing about Hamas: they might be terrorists, but aren’t idiots. They understand that they have a frustrated population filled with people who have been brutalized by their neighbors. And they also understand that Israel has something called the iron dome defense system, which means that if you throw a rocket at it, it probably won’t kill anyone (though there have been people in Israel who died, including Holocaust survivors). Israel will, however, retaliate, and when they do, they will kill Palestinian civilians. On a world stage, this looks horrible. The death toll, because Palestinians don’t have the same defense system, is always skewed. Should the Israeli government do that? No. It’s morally repugnant. It’s wrong. It’s unfair. It’s hurting people without the capability to defend themselves. But is Hamas counting on them to for the propaganda? Yeah. Absolutely. They’re literally willing to kill their other people for it.

You know why this works for Hamas? They know that Israel will respond anyway, despite the moral concerns. And if you’re curious why, you can read some books on the matter (Six Days of War by Michael Oren; The Yom Kippur War by Abraham Rabinovich; Rise and Kill First by Ronen Bergmen; Antisemitism by Deborah Lipstadt; and Israel: A Concise History of a Nation Reborn by Daniel Gordis). The TL;DR, if you aren’t interested in homework, is that Israel believes they have no choice but to defend themselves against what they consider ‘hostile powers.’ And it’s almost entirely to do with the Holocaust. It’s a little David v Goliath. It is, dare I say, complicated.

I’m barely scratching the surface here.

(We won’t get into this in this post, though if you want to DM me for details, it might be worth knowing that Iran funds Hamas and basically supplies them with all of their weapons, and part of the reason the United States has been so reluctant to engage with this conflict is that Iran is currently in Vienna trying to restore its nuclear deal with western powers. The USA cannot afford to piss off Iran right now, and therefore cannot afford to aggravative Hamas and also needs to rely on Israel to destroy Irani nuclear facilities if the deal goes south. So, you know, there is that).

There are some people who will tell you that criticism of the Israel government is antisemitic. They are almost entirely members of the right wing, evangelical community, and they don’t speak for the Jewish community. The majority of Jewish people and Jewish Americans in particular are criticizing the Israeli government right now. The majority of Jewish people in the diaspora and in Israel support Palestinian rights and are speaking out about it. And actually, when they talk about it, they are putting themselves in great danger to do so. Because it really isn’t safe to be visibly Jewish right now. People may not want to listen to Jews when they speak about antisemitism or may want to believe that antisemitism ‘isn’t real’ because ‘the Holocaust is over’ but that is absolutely untrue. In 2019, antisemitic hate crimes in the United States reached a high we have never seen before. I remember that, because I was living in London, and I was super scared for my family at the time. Since then, that number has increased by nearly 400% in the last ten days. If you don’t believe me, have some articles about it (one, two, three, four, and five, to name a few).

I live in New York City, where a man was beaten in Time Square while attending a Free Palestine rally and wearing a kippah. I’m sorry, but being visibly Jewish near a pro-Palestine rally? That was enough to have a bunch of people just start beating on him? I made a previous post detailing how there are Jews being attacked all over the world, and there is a very good timeline of recent hate crimes against Jews that you can find right here. These are Jews, by the way, who have nothing to do with Israel or Palestine. They are Americans or Europeans or Canadians who are living their lives. In some cases, they are at pro-Palestine rallies and they are trying to help, but they just look visibly Jewish. God Forbid we are the wrong ethnicity for your rally, even if we agree.

This is really serious. There are people calling for the death of all Jews. There are people calling for another Holocaust.

There are 14 million Jews in the world. 14 million. Of 7.6 billion. And you think it isn’t a problem the way people treat us?

Anyway (aside from, you know, compassion), why does this matter? This matters because stuff like this deters Jews who want to be part of the pro-Palestine movement because they are literally scared for their safety. I said this before, and I will say it again: Zionism was, historically speaking, a very unpopular opinion. It was only widespread antisemitic violence (you know, the Holocaust) that made Jews believe there was a necessity for a Jewish state. Honestly, it wasn’t until the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting that I supported it the abstract idea too.

I grew up in New York City, I am a liberal Jew, and I believe in the rights of marginalized and oppressed people to self-determine worldwide. Growing up, I also fit the profile of what many scholars describe as the self hating Jew, because I believed that, in order to justify myself in American liberal society, I had to hate Israel, and I had to be anti-Zionist by default, even if I didn’t always understand what ‘Zionism’ meant in abstract. Well, I am 27 years old now with two masters degrees in history, and here is what Zionism means to me: I hate the Israeli government. They do not speak for me. But I am not anti-Zionist. I believe in the necessity for a Jewish state — a state where all Jews are welcome, regardless of their background, regardless of their nationality.

There needs to be a place where Jews, an ethnic minority who are unwelcome in nearly every state in the world, have a place where they are free from persecution — a place where they feel protected. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with that place being the place where Jews are ethnically indigenous to. Because believe it or not, whether it is inconvenient, Jews are indigenous to the land of Israel. I’ve addressed this in this post.

With that said, that doesn’t mean you can kick the Palestinian people out. They are also indigenous to that land, which is addressed in the same post, if you don’t trust me.

What is incredible to me is that Zionism is defined, by the Oxford English Dixtionary, as “A movement [that called originally for] the reestablishment of a Jewish nationhood in Palestine, and [since 1948] the development of the State of Israel.” Whether we agree with this or not, there were early disagreements about the location of a ‘Jewish state,’ and some, like Maurice de Hirsch, believed it ought to be located in South America, for example. Others believed it should be located in Africa. The point is that the original plans for the Jewish state were about safety. The plan changed because Jews wanted to return to their homeland, the largest project of decolonization and indigenous reclamation ever to be undertaken by an indigenous group. Whether you want to hear that or not, it is true. Read a book or two. Then you might know what I mean.

When people say this is a complicated issue, they aren’t being facetious. They aren’t trying to obfuscate the point. They often aren’t even trying to defend the Israeli government, because I certainly am not — I think they are abhorrent. But there is no future in the Middle East if the Israelis and Palestinians don’t form a state that has an equal right of return and recognizes both of their indigenousness, and that will never happen if people can’t stop throwing vitriolic rhetoric around. Is the Israeli Government bad? Yes. Are Israeli citizens bad? Largely, no. They want to defend their families, and they want to defend their people. This is basically the same as the fact that Palestinian people aren’t bad, though Hamas often is. And for the love of god, stop defending terrorist organizations. Just stop. They kill their own people for their own power and for their own benefit.

And yes, one more time, the Israeli government is so, so, so wrong. But god, think about your words, and think about how you are enabling Nazis. The rhetoric the left is using is hurting Jews. I am afraid to leave my house. I’m afraid to identify as Jewish on tumblr. I’m afraid for my family, afraid for my friends. People I know are afraid for me.

It’s 2021. I am not my great uncle. I cried for him, but I shouldn’t have to die like him.

Words have consequences. Language has consequences. And genuinely, I do not think everyone is a bad person, so think about what you are putting into the world, because you’d be surprised how often you are doing a Nazi a favor or two.

Is that really what you want? To do a Nazi a favor or two? I don’t think that you do. I hope you don’t, at least.

That’s all. You know, five thousand words later. But uh, think a little. Please.

#jumblr #free palestine #zionism #gaza #signal boost #antisemitism #jew tag

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mrmrswales · 3 years

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Exclusive: the ‘profoundly powerful’ moments that shaped Duchess of Cambridge’s children’s charity work by Camilla Tominey

It all started with secret visits the public never got to see. Newly married, and with the world’s press chronicling her every move – down to the details of her designer dresses – the Duchess of Cambridge resolved to go "below radar".

Acting as Prince William’s "plus one", rather than a fully fledged solo royal in those early days, the newest addition to the Royal family knew that she wanted to find a cause she could champion as impactfully as Diana, the Princess of Wales’s landmine campaign; it was simply a question of where to find it.

Having already announced her first patronage of Action on Addiction, a charity working with people with drug and alcohol problems, Hope House, a women-only rehabilitation centre in Clapham, south London, seemed as good a place as any to start.

It was October 2011 when the then 29-year-old Duchess paid the first of several, incognito visits in a bid to find out what had sent its clients on a downward spiral of self-destruction.

According to Rebecca Priestley, who accompanied the Duchess on the visit and would go on to spend five years as her private secretary, it played a pivotal role in her decision to put childhood at the heart of her philanthropic endeavours.

Speaking on the record for the first time, Mrs Priestley, who is now an executive coach, recalled: "I remember going up to Anglesey, where they were living after the wedding, to have a conversation with the Duchess about her royal life."

At that point, she had the philanthropic world at her feet. She could have done anything she wanted in the charitable arena. Typically, she had put a lot of thought into it already. Addiction was an issue she was instinctively thinking about – but she was also genuinely interested in understanding what support was there and what role that played in the bigger picture of mainstream societal issues."

With the Duke having flown to the Falklands for a six–week tour of duty with his RAF search and rescue squadron, Mrs Priestley put a programme together to support the Duchess’s desire to "listen and learn"."A lot of it was behind the scenes, just talking to people and hearing where it was that they needed more help. The one thing that united all of the women at Hope House was that the derailing had started so early on. They could trace the problems in their adult lives back to childhood."

A subsequent private visit in February 2012 to Clouds House, a treatment centre in East Knoyle in Wiltshire, served as further confirmation that the early years should be a key area of focus. But it was during a later meeting with female inmates at a detox unit at Send Prison in Woking when the penny well and truly dropped.

"It was a profoundly powerful moment,” recalled Mrs Priestley. "You go in there with this preconceived idea that these women have done things wrong, that it was their fault. Then one woman started speaking to the Duchess about her earliest memories of seeing needles on the floor of her home."

She had always thought addiction was a misunderstood issue, but after this, she became concerned that there was a pre-destiny about those affected – an inevitability about it. These women were born into it and there was very little chance of escape."

The experience set in train a sequence of events that will next week culminate in the Duchess, 39, stepping up her ambition in driving awareness and action on the impact that early childhood can have on society at large.

She will launch a new initiative through the couple’s Royal Foundation to further explore the science around early childhood, raise awareness of the issue and foster collaboration and partnerships across relevant groups.

According to Lord Hague, who became chairman of the Royal Foundation last September, the "ambitious" new project will be equal in stature to William’s £50 million Earthshot Prize, launched last year with Sir David Attenborough to find workable solutions to climate change and environmental problems.

"The Duchess truly believes this is one of the great issues of our time," said the former Tory leader. "This is the central plank of her work in the way conservation issues are for the Duke. It’s a hugely significant moment."

While politicians are often in a rush to make a difference during the comparatively short time they have in office, royals are there for life, which perhaps explains why Kate has taken 10 years to get to this point.Having been instrumental in launching the Heads Together campaign with William and Prince Harry in 2016, designed at tackling the stigma and changing the conversation on mental health, it was not until 2018 that she convened a steering group of experts to look at how cross-sector collaboration could bring about lasting change.

In January, she delivered a landmark speech after her Five Big Questions on the Under Fives survey garnered over 500,000 responses.

"People often ask why I care so passionately about the early years," the mother-of-three said.

"Many mistakenly believe that my interest stems from having children of my own. While of course I care hugely about their start in life, this ultimately sells the issue short. If we only expect people to take an interest in the early years when they have children, we are not only too late for them, we are underestimating the huge role others can play in shaping our most formative years, too."

Pointing out that the social cost of late intervention has been estimated to be over £17 billion a year, she added: "The early years are therefore not simply just about how we raise our children. They are in fact about how we raise the next generation of adults. They are about the society we will become."

According to Eamon McCrory, Professor of Developmental Neuroscience and Psychopathology at University College London, the Duchess "has a vision of how she can help transform how we as a society view and invest in the early years for the benefit of society".

Describing her interest in "the role the brain shapes our early experiences and how that sets us on a path to adult life", he explained: "When you look at very young babies and infants, on the surface they don’t appear to be engaging in complex emotions so there's a tendency to underestimate the millions of synapses that are being formed every minute. But science is telling us we have to look under the bonnet.

"There’s no question that for the Duchess, this is a lifetime piece of work. The last five years laid the foundations, now we are entering a more proactive phase.” Described by one source as “thoughtful, professional and determined to do a good job,” there is a sense that Kate has never been in it for the early wins, but the long haul.

As one well-placed insider put it: "She took the job very seriously right from the very beginning. She continues to want to get it right and do her very best - for the institution, for William and the importance of the work she’s doing.

"She doesn't just want to rock up for a picture opportunity, which is why she used to get quite frustrated with all the early focus on what she was wearing. She really cares about this stuff."

Another source said she was "much more fun" than people give her credit for, pointing out how she has grown in confidence having found a cause that she is not only passionate about - but also well informed.

As Lord Hague put it: "She’s been reading the books and had trustees reading the books. People assume her interest in the early years is because she has children – actually it comes from all the adults she’s met." The other key influence has been Kate’s own idyllic childhood.

Brought up in leafy Bucklebury in West Berkshire by her entrepreneur parents Michael and Carole Middleton, pictured below with the royal family, the Duchess has never made any secret of how fortunate she has been to be brought up in a loving and supportive family.

"She always recognised that she benefited from such a great start in life," added Mrs Priestley.

"That’s why sport and the outdoors has always been a key theme for her. She was always asking how those sorts of experiences could be made accessible to others."

For Dame Benny Refson, president of the children’s mental health charity Place2Be, where the Duchess has been patron since 2013, Kate’s grounded upbringing has proved an asset.

“The Duchess listens and people feel heard and valued. It’s nothing to do with privilege. The groups she meets in challenging areas in London don't look at what she's wearing. What makes a difference is that an important person has shown a genuine interest in them. She can relate without passing judgement, which is so important."

Having started out as a reticent public speaker, the Duchess has finally found her voice – and next week she will have a lot more to say.

#duchess of cambridge

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artaefact · 3 years

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a letter in roses.

—wordcount: 8k+

—genre: FLUFF, romance, CEO au, valentine’s day au, husband!taehyung

—pairing: kim taehyung x f reader ft. florist!hobi, baker!jimin & ???!jk

—rating: 18+

—warnings: cheesy fluff, taehyung wants the tea, taehyung is kinda a hazard in the kitchen, yeontan being a little rascal, suggestive themes, swearings

—summary: Since it’s the first time celebrating Valentine’s Day with you as his wife, Taehyung goes the extra mile of preparing something special for you. After all, he has managed to run a billion-dollar worth company. So, preparing handmade delicacies should be simple enough, right?

author’s note: this is part of the bangtan pastries collab hosted by @suhdays !! AND ALSO ____ and [Name] are two different ocs so hopefully it’s not confusing !! happy reading everyone 💖

Valentine's Day. The day where people spend time with their loved ones, either going out to celebrate or spending quality time together at home. Just anything to bring a smile to their loved ones' faces.

Taehyung used to question this annual occasion—a lot. What is truly the purpose of this day? Don't you have to make your loved ones happy all the time? What difference does it make to celebrate it on this "special" day and on a typical day? Or, in other words, it was a complete waste of time and energy—is what he used to say.

For many years, Taehyung's only companions on this day are paperwork, meetings, and... more paperwork. So, it's not surprising how disinterested he is at the thought of celebrating Valentine's Day.

But today, he barely can stifle his smile and contain his excitement throughout the morning conference. The minute when the meeting ends, he strides out of the room and heads straight back home.

His employees had stared at him in awe after he announced that everyone can leave work early today. Everyone wonders what has gotten Kim Taehyung so excited on Valentine's Day until they remember that he is, now, officially a husband. Taehyung no longer frequently locks himself in his office until past midnight dealing with documents and phone calls. Not when you're waiting for him at home. Sometimes he'd even cut his work hours short if he deems himself deserving just to see you faster.

Everyone can see how utterly in love the boss is with his wife. Just the mention of your name is enough to grace his usual stern expression with a soft smile.

So, it's not surprising that an annoyed sigh emits from Taehyung's lips when his work phone dings just as he steps out of the elevator on his penthouse floor. Taking out his phone, he reads an urgent message that some part of the meeting's presentation details have not been mentioned to him earlier. For once, Taehyung wishes work can give him a break. Today is supposed to be a special day, after all.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Taehyung walks into his home. Soft jazzy music plays from the living room, along with the tinge of coffee fragrance wafting in the air, ebbing his growing annoyance away. He takes off his dress shoes before entering even further, knowing full well how his wife would make him clean up if he stains the Persian rug you received as a wedding gift. With a pair of home slippers covering his feet, he emerges from the front hallway to the living room as he shrugs off his navy pinstripe suit jacket and loosens his tie.

Taehyung hears the rapid padding of pawsteps first as a fluffy friend appears out of the kitchen, greeting Taehyung with a woof and an excited wag of his tail, scampering to his owner. Smiling, Taehyung crouches to give Yeontan a backrub as the pomeranian revels at the affection.

After a few moments, he walks to the kitchen—Yeontan still excitedly following—where the smell of coffee grows stronger. He finds you sipping on your morning coffee and scrolling through your tablet—perhaps, reading the latest news—as you sit on the bar table of the kitchen.

Sensing his presence, your head turns to the doorway. “Hey, you're back.”

“Mhmm… Finished my meetings earlier today.” He closes the distance, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “You ate breakfast already?”

You nod. “Have you?” He shakes his head. “You go change, I'll whip up something for you.” You place your tablet down on the counter. “Are toasts and eggs, okay?”

He nods in response.

Standing up from the barstool, you are about to make your way to the counter when your husband stops you. “You haven't given me a kiss ever since I've arrived back home.” He pouts, arms circling your waist to keep you still.

You chuckle at his antics. Cupping his face between your hands, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. “There.”

“More please.” And you comply, placing another, and another…

You move your hands down, placing it on his chest when he releases his hold on your waist, cupping your face, finally giving you a deep kiss. Your heart is on the verge of bursting at the touch of his lips. Granted, you both shared kisses so many times, but each and every single one never fails to spread warmth in your chest. And you love to see his dazed expression or his bright smile afterwards.

After a few moments, you pull away, grinning. “Okay, go change.” Your smile so bright Taehyung just can't get enough as he still clings to you. “I have an appointment today before our dinner date.”

Taehyung raises a brow, now realising that you're dressed up. “Where might you be going?”

You simply poke his nose with a secretive grin. He pouts at your lack of response, watching you move behind the counter. You take out two slices of bread—putting them in the toaster—and eggs from the fridge.

With a soft smile on his face, Taehyung goes to the bedroom and freshens up, quickly changing to his usual home attire. He comes back to the kitchen donning a white shirt and a pair of shorts, finding you already setting up the plate on the counter.

He stops at your side, watching you place the scrambled eggs near the toast. Then the moment you're done, he wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“What's gotten into you today?”

“Can't I shower my wife with love?” He nuzzles his nose to the crook of your neck.

You laugh softly. “Alright, alright. Now, let me just—” You place the plate on the counter, Taehyung still embracing you. “—put this. And… Do you want strawberry juice?”

He nods eagerly. You open the fridge (yes, with Taehyung is still clinging to you) and take out the cut-up frozen strawberries before placing them in the blender and pouring some water.

“Go eat, baby.” You face him after turning the blender on. “I'll be with you in a minute.”

Taehyung gives you a kiss on the cheek then moves to sit on the bar table where you have placed his breakfast. After you place a glass of strawberry juice near him, you sit next to him.

“What are your plans for today?” You ask, resting your chin on one hand.

“Hmm…” He sits straighter, swallowing the food in his mouth. With a teasing smirk, he faces you. “Well, I was planning to spend the whole day with my lovely wife. But unfortunately, I can't do that until our dinner date.”

“Should I cancel my appointments today…?” You actually look worried, and Taehyung blinks.

“No!” He says almost too quickly. “I mean— It's okay, really. We'll have our dinner date. Plus, I have another meeting to attend to soon.”

“Thought you said you were done with work today?”

“Something else came up,” Taehyung sighs in annoyance, remembering the text he received earlier from one of his employees. “I have to make a few calls. But I wouldn't miss our first Valentine dinner date after our marriage.”

You chuckle. “Alright, I should call taxi—”

Taehyung stops you. “Y/N, you know you can use my chauffeur, right?”

“The taxi's fine—” You yelp as Taehyung tugs you close to him, causing you to nearly sliding off from your seat. Placing your hands on your husband's broad shoulders, you steady yourself.

“Love, call my chauffeur, hmm?” His voice turns low, and you fight back a shiver. “I know you're still getting used to this—” He motions towards the whole penthouse. “—but at least, let me make it easier for you today, yeah?”

Inhaling a sharp breath, you nod. “O-Okay.”

A sly grin decorates his pretty lips at your agreement. “Good.” Straightening yourself, you climb down the stool. Taehyung places a chaste kiss on your lips, and you are still in a daze at the sudden change of his demeanour. You walk out of the kitchen and reach the end of the hallway. While putting on your shoes, his face peeking from the living room, and he pipes, “Don't be late for dinner!”

When the front door closes, you place a hand on your chest — on top of your still pounding heart. You let out a breath, and a smile curls up on the corner of your lips.

I swear he's going to be the death of me.

After you leave, Taehyung is left alone to his own devices. He goes to his office space with Yeontan following on his trail. Turning his laptop on, he glares at the screen. Work seems to follow him wherever and whenever despite having worked his ass off. But he’ll ensure that nothing will ruin your date night today.

Taking a deep breath, he turns on his camera, not even bothering to change out of his home attire. Taehyung’s expressions have said it all as one of his company’s branch managers who messaged him fidgets on the screen under his stare.

“What else are we missing?” His voice like the calm before the storm. “I thought the meeting earlier today has been concluded.”

“I forgot that there are some things that…” The manager rambles on, and Taehyung can sense a headache looming.

Taehyung rubs his temple as the manager finishes prattling. Sitting up straighter, he advises, “I’m going to say this only once, you work in this position to oversee the marketing branch of my company. It is your job to ensure that all the little details for today’s meeting have been presented. So, this type of incident will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?”

The manager nods rapidly.

“Good,” Taehyung leans back on his leather chair. “Now, is that all?”

Again, the manager nods.

Finally.

After ending the call and answering a few more emails, Taehyung emerges out of the office room and plops down the couch with Yeontan in his arms. He stretches his neck to the right and left, ear to his shoulder. The pomeranian rests comfortably against his chest until the doorbell rings, surprising the poor dog.

Ah, Taehyung almost forgot. He coos at the stunned dog, a light giggle escaping his lips before putting Yeontan on the dog bed, right beside the living room’s couch. “Stay, I’ll be back.” Then he walks to the door, peeking through the peephole as a grin appears on his face. Opening the door, Jimin and Jungkook pop in with smiles on their faces.

“Hey man, long time no see.” Jimin wraps his arms around Taehyung, patting his back. “How’s it going?”

“It’s rare for you to call us nowadays,” Jungkook comments after giving Tae a hug as well.

“Yeah, I’ve been working my ass off.” Taehyung sighs and locks the door.

“Where’s Y/N?” Jimin emerges out of the hallway, and he crouches as Yeontan approaches him in the living room. “Hey, buddy. Long time no see.”

“What the hell? He’s grown so much, hyung.” Jungkook follows suit, petting the pomeranian and letting out the giggle when Yeontan playfully licks him.

Taehyung clears his throat. “Y/N is out for an appointment, and you guys need to help me.”

“Right,” Jimin stands up, recalling the text Taehyung sent him a few days ago. “So, I think we can finish in around three hours? It’s only six pastries—”

“One hundred forty three,” Taehyung corrects.

Silence.

Jimin blinks rapidly, processing his friend’s words. “Are you insane? We’ll need so much ingredients for that, and I’m guessing not even your gigantic kitchen can store—”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings again.

“Ah, it has arrived,” Taehyung muses, opening the door once more to reveal a delivery man with a cart full of packed grocery ingredients.

“Delivery for Mr Kim.”

“That would be me.” Taehyung signs the tablet before letting the delivery man unload the boxes. After a few minutes, the boxes are stacked near the hallway. Taehyung turns to his friends, “So, should we start?”

“Wait, are you seriously planning on baking a hundred forty three pastries?” Jimin’s expression still shows none other than horror. “That’s impossible.”

“But…”

“Nope,” Jimin shakes his head. “That won’t work. Not even if we have more people to help.” Taehyung’s shoulders noticeably droop. Jimin puts a comforting hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and adds, “Look, we can opt for a lesser number of pastries and arrange them. It’ll look great! Plus, knowing your extra ass, I bet you still have something else planned.”

Pursing his lips, Taehyung mumbles, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“So, we’re settled,” Jimin lets out a relieved sigh.

There’s a funny look on Jungkook’s face as he watches the whole scene unfold. Taehyung raises a brow at the younger one, who responds with a shake of his head. “I thought you lost your mind, hyung. As someone who runs a billionaire company, I thought the stress is finally getting to you.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes before he realises, “Wait, aren’t you working somewhere else now?”

“Today’s an off day for me,” Jungkook shrugs, walking alongside Taehyung to the kitchen. “So, I figured after knowing Jimin hyung is coming here, I’d tag along.”

“I see.” Taehyung sets the sack of apples on the floor beside the main kitchen counter. Jimin is already rummaging through the kitchen for empty bowls to place the necessary ingredients for the pastries. Meanwhile, Yeontan sniffs the sack of apples curiously, nudging it when the apples tumble down, scattering on the floor.

Putting the bags of cinnamon and sugar on the marble counter, Jungkook mutters, “...And now, I’m already regretting.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

You watch the snow-covered trees and sidewalks in a passing blur as Taehyung’s chauffeur drives you to the town’s famous flower shop. After turning to the familiar corner of the street, a few minutes later, you arrive.

Tightening your coat tighter to yourself, you climb out of the car, taking your handbag along with you. As soon as you go through the glass door, the owner greets you. “Y/N! You’re finally here!”

“Hobi!” You greet him in a friendly hug. “How have you been? You look great!”

“I’ve been good!” He motions for you to sit on the chair at the front counter. “Just finished arranging all the bouquets for today, and finally have some peace and quiet until the truck returns, then I have to load the second batch of bouquets.”

“You sure having a busy day.” You sit on the wooden chair. “Is ____ here already?”

He shakes his head, but his eyes are filled with mirth. “She’ll come visit later, she has something to do now. So, let’s start on your thing first.”

“Oh! Did you get it?”

Hoseok nods at your question, moving back behind the cashier counter, and crouches down as he rummages through his things. “Here,” he hands you a miniature of a cherry blossom tree inside a small sealed plastic.

Your eyes light up. “Hobi, it’s perfect!”

He smiles at your reaction. “What are you going to use it for?”

“For this.” You take out an empty snow globe from your bag. “It fits perfectly.”

“Well, you did insist for me to get the right measurements.” He chuckles, watching curiously as you unseal the plastic to take out the cherry blossom tree. “If it wasn’t for my fiancé, I would’ve gotten it wrong. She literally measured it down to precision.”

You laugh, placing the tree on the uncapped snow globe. “That’s what I love about her.”

“Me too,” he giggles before clearing his throat, still smiling. “And what bouquet would you like?”

“It’s for Tae. So...”

“Hmm…” Hoseok purses his lips. “Usually, people would go for roses, tulips, and carnations for Valentine’s Day.”

You ponder for a moment, weighing your options for the perfect bouquet for your husband. “I’ll go with carnations, roses, and baby’s breath.” Hoseok nods, eyes calculating as if picturing the bouquet you’d like.

“Is it okay if I use your counter for a while to assemble this?” You point at the snow globe and miniature on the counter.

“Sure~” Hoseok chirps, striding to the buckets of flowers a few steps away.

Then as if on cue, the front door opens. “I hope I’m not late…” ____ smiles at the sight of you, then her gaze shifts to her fiancé briefly, whose eyes are already on her. “I bring the supplies,” she places a bag of arts and craft supplies you requested in front of you.

“Thank you!” You beam, excitedly giving her a hug before rummaging through the bag. “You really brought everything.”

“No problem.” She ruffles your hair affectionately. “I understand that you had to keep this a secret from Tae for the time being.” Then she turns to Hoseok.

“Hey, baby,” Hoseok grins, opening his arms, his glove-covered hands full of picked flowers. She responds with a smile of her own, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Missed you,” Hoseok mumbles into her hair.

She rolls her eyes, “We just saw each other this morning.”

“Missed you every moment,” Hoseok replies cheekily.

You smile to yourself, hearing their exchange as you work on the snow globe. Taking the glue from the bag, you gingerly apply it to the bottom of the miniature cherry blossom and then stick it to the flat surface of the snow globe. You hold it in that position for a few moments before letting it go to dry.

____ once again stands beside you as Hoseok continues to work on the bouquet. She curiously observes what you’re doing and comments, “Did you come up with this idea?”

You nod. “Yeah, I thought of creating something special for him. After all, it’s our first Valentine’s together as newlyweds.”

Not a minute later, Hoseok already calls for his fiancé from the wrapping table on the other side of the room. “Babe, can you please help me with these?”

____ gives him a glance. “You’re just making excuses to be near me. You usually have everything under control.”

Hoseok wails in vain. “Pleaseee. Usually, I’d have Jungkook helping me. But ever since he’s gotten so busy with his new job, I haven’t been able to find another part-timer. So, I thought you’re helping me today.”

Failing to stifle a smile, ____ mutters a quiet ‘he’s so needy’ and then moves to help whatever Hoseok requires.

You chuckle hearing their banter. Just listening or watching them has always strangely brought warmth inside you. They treat you as their younger sibling, or even their child at times, but you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at the treatment. Not when you know how they genuinely care about you.

Despite not tying the knot yet, they are the ones who made you believe that soulmates (or at least something really close to it) exist. And you hoped it’ll be the same for you and Taehyung.

Taehyung prides himself in many things—running his billion-dollar worth corporation, doing art, and gaming. He’d like to say that there are still many hidden capabilities that he has yet to discover. However, in the recent light of events, he is close to admitting that talent in the kitchen is a definite no.

“No! What are you doing?!” Jungkook gapes at the smashed apple in Taehyung’s hold, its juices dripping down onto the counter. “You’re making a mess, hyung! And you aren’t supposed to cut like that! Are you trying to commit a murder?”

“I thought this is how you cut it open...” The man in question mumbles, staring glumly at his work.

“No,” Jungkook groans. “You do it like this.” He slices the apple in half easily.

Right. Another aspect that Taehyung seems to lack is the ability to follow or listen to instructions. His primary instinct is either to go with the flow or dive right into whatever he’s facing. Hence, it’s still a work-in-progress since following others is just not his forte—

—except you. Your lilting accent whenever you speak, or even subtle actions, Taehyung follows you easily. One of your little habits—taking deep breaths whenever your emotions are getting the best of you—Taehyung has picked up that so effortlessly.

Like how currently, he’s taking a deep breath to not let his rising frustration get the best of him.

“Like this?” Taehyung attempts the way Jungkook cuts the apple—cutting it in half, aligning with the stem and core, then trying to slice it thinly.

Jungkook nods, observing Taehyung. Jimin, on the other hand, stifles his laughter as he assembles the apple slices on the pastry sheets. The blatant impatience in Jungkook’s face grows more and more apparent at Taehyung’s skill—or, rather lack thereof—in dealing with a knife. “Okay, I think it’s better if I do the rest of it,” Jungkook takes the cutting board, and the apples left. “You can help Jimin hyung do the pastries—shit!”

One of the apple pieces—a chunk, to be precise—rolls off the plate and falls onto the ground. Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror as a fluff of black and brown fur zooms past his legs and picks up the fallen apple as quick as lightning.

“Yeontan, no!”

So, while Yeontan munches happily on his newly-attained snack and a string of curses escapes Jungkook’s lips, Taehyung snatches the cutting board back. He resumes slicing the apples slowly. He’s a man with determination, after all. He’d like to be the reason his wife’s eyes light up with glee as she tastes the apple roses pastries he put his heart into.

Jungkook fusses in the background, “Can dogs eat apples?”

Jimin, now, can barely contain his laughter at the unfurling of the whole scene. “Well… I think so.”

“You think so?” Jungkook groans, quickly fetching his phone from the living room. He furiously types on his phone and googles: can dogs eat apples. “I will not be responsible if Yeontan falls ill and— Oh, thank goodness.” He lets out a relieved sigh. “It makes healthy snacks for them instead.”

“Yeah, it does,” Taehyung replies nonchalantly. “I usually let him have a piece or two without the seeds.”

Jungkook grumbles. “Why didn’t you answer me in the first place then? I panicked—”

“Cuz it’s fun to watch your reaction,” Taehyung and Jimin said in unison.

“And it serves you right...” Taehyung adds, mumbling.

“Screw you guys. I’m not helping with this anymore.” Jungkook crosses his arms, pouting.

“This is for my wife, you know,” Taehyung reminds him, “And remember how my wife is close to Hoseok’s fiance—”

Jungkook picks up the knife in record time.

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

You stare at the finished snow globe in satisfaction, capping back the glycerin and distilled water bottle tightly. Then after you’re confident that everything’s all settled and cleaned up, you tilt the globe a few times to make sure the content is all set and doesn’t spill.

The cherry blossom tree stands tall as tiny leaf-like cutouts of pastel pink cascade through the liquid in slow motion, like real falling cherry blossoms.

“Wow, it’s so pretty,” ____ comments after she helped Hoseok with the bouquet.

You grin at her compliment before placing the snow globe in an empty black gift box. “I hope Tae will love this.”

“He sure will,” ____ muses, watching you tie the gift box. “You know he’ll love anything you give him. And—”

“Babe, can you help me get some ribbons?” Hoseok asks from the wrapping table across the room.

“Sure,” ____ chuckles, grabbing a basket of colourful ribbons under the counter and handing it to Hoseok.

“Can you help me tape around the edges?” Hoseok lifts the bouquet of flowers, gaze pointing at the bulk of stems. ____ complies, following his instructions before wrapping it with cotton paper.

You stand up from your seat and move closer to the couple. At the sight of the assembled flowers, you gape, “Now, that’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you like it,” He chuckles, tying the wrapped bouquet with a ribbon. “And we’re done!” He hands you the bouquet.

Taking a closer look at the vibrant hues of red, pink, and white, you stare in awe. “I love it!”

After bidding Hoseok and ____ goodbye, you step out of the shop with the bouquet and gift box in hand. Taehyung’s chauffeur opens the door to the car, and you climb in quickly to avoid the cold weather.

“Where would you like to go, Mrs. Kim?” The chauffeur asks as he drives.

“The bakery please. It’s a few blocks away from here.”

You hum to yourself a soft, happy tune. Just imagining how your husband would react has your heart fluttering and giddy. Wondering what he’s up to, you take out your phone from your coat and press on his number.

The familiar ring buzzes a few times until he answers. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” you smile. “What are you up to?”

“Hmm? Uh, nothing?” He answers, then you hear the sound of clanking and familiar whispers in the background.

“Tae… What are you doing?”

He hums. “Well, I thought I should clean up the penthouse before our dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” you giggle. “Did you really call Jimin and Jungkook to help clean up our place?”

Taehyung mutters a curse under his breath. “W-Well, they are willing to help. So, why not?”

“Usually, you’d call the usual cleaning services. Plus, isn’t Jimin’s bakery busy today?”

“Unfortunately, not this time, sweetheart. I’ve prepared some things tonight and I don’t want people nosing around.” Taehyung explains. “And Jimin says his girlfriend got it under control.”

You let out an amused chuckle. “Alright then.” Glancing out the car window, the pastel pink store is nearing. “I need to go now. See you tonight, baby.”

“See you soon, my love.”

The smile never leaves Taehyung’s face as he puts his phone back into his pocket and walks back to the kitchen. Jungkook is still cutting apples while Jimin cracks some eggs into a bowl.

“Was that Y/N?” Jimin spares a brief glance as he whisks the eggs.

Taehyung nods. “She asked what I was doing.”

“Nothing at all…” Jungkook mutters under his breath, arranging the sliced apples on a plate and putting them in the microwave.

“I heard that,” Taehyung narrows his stare at the younger one. “So… How are things between you and her, Kookie?”

Jungkook falters. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, yes, do you know I just met her in my meeting a few days ago?” A teasing smirk curls up on Taehyung’s lips as Jungkook pouts, still arranging the second batch of apples.

“Don’t fight you guys.” Jimin groans. “We’re not even halfway done with this!”

Taehyung opens his mouth to complain, and Jimin cuts him off. “So, you’re going to prepare the muffin tray—” Jimin instructs Taehyung. “Then Jungkook is going to help me with the pastries.”

“Can I help with the pastries instead?” Taehyung watches Jimin pouring cinnamon and sugar into another bowl. “Jungkook can prep the muffin trays.”

“Are you up for it?” Jimin raises a brow. Taehyung nods enthusiastically.

“Alright. But make sure to follow how I do it.”

Taehyung smiles giddily and stands beside his friend. He follows every action Jimin does: brushing egg wash on the pastry, sprinkling cinnamon and sugar on the dough, arranging the apples, and rolling it into a tart.

“So, how’s things so far with Goldilocks?” Taehyung questions once he gets the hang of arranging the pastries.

Jimin lets out a sheepish chuckle. “That’s her pet goldfish’s name, you know.”

Jungkook places the muffin tray after he preps it. “And she made me carry the whole tank back home…” Jungkook grumbles, recalling the past event.

Taehyung shrugs. “Then Ms. Shooting Star.”

Jimin fights back a blush on his cheeks at the mention of that. “I’m beginning to regret telling you all that.”

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows with a teasing smirk.

“We’re both really busy these days, and we said to take things slow since her parents are a bit complicated, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Says the one who had a mental breakdown right before Christmas dinner.

Jimin glares at the younger one. “Look who’s talking. I wonder if you’d ever grow the balls to admit your feelings for She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“I don’t have feelings for her.” Jungkook mutters, looking away.

Taehyung nods. “Well, then. That’s good to know. One of my business partners was asking about her the other day. I thought I’d introduce them. “

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Great, now you’re playing cupid?”

“Not yet. But I got one in mind who’s very interested in her…”

“Please, don’t.” Jungkook whispers, gritting his teeth.

“What was that?” Taehyung asks with an open hand behind his ear.

“Don’t…”

“What?”

“Please, for fuck’s sake. Don’t introduce any of your friends to her beyond business interest.”

Silence.

Jungkook blinks before he rambles, “I mean it’s going to be creepy if someone that’s fifty years older hits on her—”

“Oh, no. I can guarantee he’s not that old. In fact, he’s still a bachelor. Maybe a few years older than us. And—” Taehyung recalls, rolling the last apple rose pastry and placing it on the muffin tray. “—come to think of it, she did ask me about him once...” Taehyung trails, noticing Jungkook’s blank expression at the information. “Oops, I think I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

“They all look so good,” you mutter, scouring through the vast chocolate choices under the display glass.

[Name] shoots you a smile. “Take all the time you need. The cafe isn’t open today, so it’s not that busy here.”

You glance around the bakery briefly. “I can tell… No wonder Jimin is with Taehyung right now.”

“Mhmm…” [Name] nods; she leans forward on the glass display, chin resting against one palm.

“Are you okay spending time here alone…?”

She shrugs. “I was promised a date in the winter market tonight. So, I don’t mind—” The sudden ringtone of her phone cuts her off. “Wait, gimme a sec—” You nod as she picks up her phone. “Mochi?”

A chuckle escapes your lips at the cute nickname.

“No, I can’t go there right now. It’s still too early to close up.” She glances at the wall clock. “Huh? What do you mean Jungkook left?” Your gaze shifts up from the sweet displays to her worried expression. “Oh, okay.” She drums her fingers on the counter. “I’ll talk to him if he goes here. Bye— yes, love you too.” She presses the disconnect button.

“Is everything okay?” You ask curiously.

She responds with a nod. “You know the usual, Taehyung and Jimin teases Jungkook too much and now, he’s gone off to blow some steam.”

“To where—” The door to the bakery slams open, and there a huffy Jungkook appears.

“That was fast,” [Name] sniggers at her best friend.

“Not in the mood,” Jungkook pouts, sitting on the closest table to the cashier counter.

“They giving you a hard time?” [Name] places a steaming mug of hot chocolate on his table and tilts her head slightly.

Jungkook huffs once more, sipping the drink carefully. Honestly, he doesn’t even know what got him so worked up. He’s used to all his hyungs’ teasing, but...

“Tell me about it,” [Name] places a steaming mug of hot chocolate on his table. “After I helped Y/N with her chocolate.”

Jungkook blinks, now realising that you’re standing awkwardly in front of the glass displays. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Jungkook,” you greet him back and turn to look at the desserts again. “And uh, I’ll take this and this…” You point out all the chocolate you’d like, earning a nod from [Name].

As soon as she’s done packing the chocolate box, you bid them farewell and exit the bakery with your heart fluttering in anticipation and excitement.

The peaceful atmosphere in the kitchen ceases the moment Taehyung’s phone dings when a text notification appears. Taehyung—who was busy admiring his final work on the muffin tray—takes a glimpse of his phone’s screen on the counter. “Oh no.”

Jimin takes the muffin tray off the counter and sets it in the oven. “What?”

“Jungkook just texted me that Y/N is coming back now.”

“Huh?” Jimin’s eyes widen. “But the pastries aren’t done yet!”

Another ding resounds through Taehyung’s phone.

Jungkook: Good luck tryna hide the pastries :P

“He can be annoying if he wants to...” Taehyung mutters under this breath at Jungkook’s retaliation.

“Well, we did hit a nerve by talking about her...” Jimin sighs, crossing his arms.

Taehyung snorts. “The kid needs to get it sorted out as quickly as possible. He sometimes just needs a push.”

“He still needs time,” Jimin counters, shaking his head. “Not all people have it easy in admitting their feelings.”

Taehyung mulls for a minute and nods in understanding. “I guess I shouldn’t push him too hard. But for now, I should find a way to distract Y/N,” Taehyung searches for your contact. “How long do you think we need?”

Jimin mentally calculates the time. “Like forty minutes to an hour?”

“Okay,” Taehyung clicks on your number. He clears his throat once you pick up the phone, “Y/N? Hey, baby, I might need help picking up something...”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

“I need your help to pick up a cooking book I’ve been searching for…”

“...Cooking? Since when you’re interested in—”

“Look, I’ve been trying to find a new hobby and I thought why not cooking? Jimin recommended me to try it.” Taehyung blabbers, his heart beating fast. “And it’ll be fun if we do it together, right?”

“Okay.” The amusement in your tone lights up his face into a shy smile. “Send me which book you’re looking for and I’ll check with ____ if she has it. Just hope she and Hobi haven’t gone out for their date yet.”

“Thanks, love. I owe you one.”

He can hear the smile on your voice as you respond, “I only accept payment in kisses and cuddles.”

Taehyung chuckles fondly. “Consider it done.” Once you end the call, Taehyung checks the pastries in the oven, mumbling, “I hope that would keep her busy for a while.”

Jimin nods. “The first batch is almost done. But the second one—an hour should be enough...” He trails, voice filled with uncertainty.

“It has to be enough.” Taehyung picks up the dirty bowls and dumps it in the kitchen sink. “It should be...”

Jimin helps clean up the counter, even ensuring that there isn’t a trace of flour on the floor before he checks his phone briefly and pockets it back in his jeans. He moves near the oven—hands covered by the oven mitts—and tentatively takes out the first batch of apple roses pastries from the top rack and puts it on the counter.

“Let it cool off for a while and then you can hide it in the fridge or a container. Oh, and how will you plan to arrange the—”

Taehyung rinses off the remaining utensils—taking his washing gloves off—and rummages through the cabinets, taking out a heart-shaped platter.

With an unamused expression, Jimin blinks a few times. “You just have all kinds of things in your kitchen, do you?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Y/N came across it the other day and thought it was pretty. She didn’t buy it, so I bought it instead.”

A flabbergasted laugh escapes Jimin’s lips as he shakes his head. “Well, I better get going now. I don’t want to be late for my date tonight.”

“Thanks for your help, man. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s what friends are for, yeah?” Jimin walks out to the front door and wears his coat before giving Taehyung a farewell hug. “And you should apologise to Jungkook too. He’s probably still having his pity-party in my bakery.”

Taehyung nods, opening the door. “I will.”

After Jimin left, Taehyung goes back to the kitchen. He puts one leg and the other over the pet barrier he set to prevent Yeontan from stealing any more fallen ingredients. Said dog is whimpering in front of the kitchen doorway until the front door clicks. Then he hears the familiar footsteps of his wife.

So, of course, things aren’t going according to Taehyung’s plan today.

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

After retrieving Taehyung’s desired cookbook, you arrive in the lobby. You stop by the receptionist desk to hide the gifts and tell them to bring it up to the penthouse at your call around seven in the evening.

The moment you step through the door, the sweet smell of cinnamon fills the air. Taking off your boots and coat, you call out for your husband. “Tae? You in here?” You head towards the kitchen to find it barricaded by Yeontan’s fence barrier. “What the—” You lift one leg over the barricade, and your other leg follows. You stride to the refrigerator to get a drink, only to find it blocked.

When you glance down, there your husband lays—his long legs blocking the fridge—with a strained smile on his face, looking absolutely winded. “You’re back.”

“My goodness, what happened here?” You crouch, helping him sit up. “Did the cleaning go wrong?”

Taehyung shakes his head, leaning against the refrigerator. “Everything’s well. Just… Resting… For a while.”

“Are you okay?” You tilt your head. “I’m gonna get you some water—”

Your husband stops you, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips. “Hi.”

An involuntary shy smile appears on your face. “Hi there, do you mind scooting? I want to get a drink.”

He shakes his head again, winding his arms around you. “It’s okay... I’m— I’ll take it for you.”

“Hmm? But you can barely even move, Tae…” You reach out, moving a stray hair from his handsome face.

“I can…” he pouts, grasping your hand on his hair to kiss your palm. “Just give me a minute.”

With a teasing smile on your face, you reach for the refrigerator handle again and attempt to open it when your husband stands up.

He’s definitely hiding something, but luckily he’s cute. “Alright…” You muse, watching his attempt to keep you from opening the fridge. But you suppose you’ll comply with his conspicuous actions. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

After you head out of the kitchen, Taehyung opens the fridge—releases a breath as he takes out a water bottle—and closes it again. He goes out to the living room, finding you giggling as Yeontan playfully licks your face on the couch. The sight brings warmth inside Taehyung’s heart as he strides closer and sits beside you, handing you your water.

“Thanks.” You let Yeontan down from the couch before taking the water bottle. While you drink your fill, Taehyung lays his head on your lap, letting out a contented sigh as you weave your fingers through his dark locks. “What time is dinner again?”

“Seven.”

Capping the water bottle, you glance at the wall clock in front of you. “So… Two more hours. I gotta get ready.”

“Hmm…?” Taehyung opens his eyes. “But we’re celebrating here...”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You said you want to reenact our first date.”

Your husband blinks once, then realisation falls upon him as he groans in embarrassment, sitting up. “You’re actually considering it?”

“Why not? It’s a cute idea,” you giggle. “It’s only between us both.”

Facing you, he questions, “It’s not too cheesy or anything?” Uncertainty is evident in his gaze.

“Of course not.” You grin, encircling your arms around him. “I love that idea actually.”

He lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Then I’ll see you in two hours?” Taehyung bites his bottom lip—a habit when he’s nervous—but he still holds your stare. “I’ll use the guest bathroom to freshen up. So, you get the bathroom all to yourself.”

“Oh? We can share as usual—”

“But that won’t fully reenact our first date, you know, before we’re living together—” He rambles, eyes darting everywhere, but you. You, on the other hand, fail to stifle a smile at his flustered state. Nodding in understanding, you stand up. Taehyung grasps your wrist, causing you to turn to him. “No kisses for me?”

You lean down, levelling your face with his, with a teasing smirk. “I don’t kiss on the first date, handsome.”

“You know what, on second thought—”

“See you later, baby.” Escaping his clutches, you go straight to your bedroom for your “first” date with your husband.

Taehyung has never been this nervous before, well, ever since your wedding day—the moment you walked down the aisle with a beautiful smile on your face that he needed to pull himself together before he turns into a sobbing mess and—

Okay, the point is, Taehyung has presented business plans, his company’s valuation, and other significant matters in front of hundreds or even thousands of people. He managed to stay calm and collected in every presentation—full of confidence as he moved across the stage with ease.

But when it comes to you? He wonders where did all that confidence go. And you’re just one person. The one person who he had promised to cherish and love, and—

He lets out a deep breath, staring at himself in the guest bathroom mirror. In a deep burgundy suit, he does a once-over at his appearance before the sound of the doorbell rings. He rushes out and ushers the staff, who brings a decorated table in along with the surprises he prepared.

A few minutes later, when all is set, he knocks on your bedroom door, straightening his suit jacket in nervousness.

The moment the door swings open, Taehyung’s throat goes dry as he gapes at you, adorning the same black dress you wore on your first date. Your eyes momentarily grow wide as well at his choice of outfit—the same one he used on the first date—before bursting into a giggle. “Wow, we do think alike…”

Snapping out of his trance, he nods. “And you still look breathtaking as ever.”

“Stop stroking my ego.” You move closer to him, looping your arm through his as he leads you to the living room.

“You know I can’t help myself,” Taehyung chuckles.

A gasp escapes your lips as soon as you see what has been prepared. The whole room is lit up by candles—some real, some fake—yet, there are no other words than to describe it as beautiful. The couch and coffee table has been set aside, and in the middle of the living room, a candlelit table stands with meals for two prepared on it. Your gaze falls on the bouquet of roses Taehyung has in hand.

“It’s beautiful,” you mutter in awe.

Taehyung grins. “A hundred and forty-three roses for the love of my life.”

You gape, taking the bouquet into your arms. “A hundred forty-three?”

“It means ‘I love you’.” His gaze is full of emotions. “I don’t know if I’ll ever live up to be the man of your dreams. But I can continue—” He takes your hand in his. “—to love you even more as we spend our lives together.”

Silence.

Your gaze is glassy and unreadable. Then you blink your eyes rapidly, looking up at the ceiling. “Damn it, Tae. I’m using makeup.”

“Huh?”

Placing down the bouquet on the coffee table, you reach out for the tissue, dabbing your eyes carefully before fanning your hands.

“Oh no, don’t cry—”

“It’s your fault for making such a speech. You know how emotional I get when you do that.” You dab your eyes more as Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

“Oh sweetheart,” Taehyung coos as you face him. You stare into his loving gaze for a few moments before you clear your throat. However, as if on cue, the doorbell rings. Taehyung furrowed his brows. “Expecting someone?”

“Wait here.” Pulling away from his hold, you rush to the door. The moment you return to the living room with presents in hand, Taehyung gapes as you hand him the bouquet and gift box.

“What is this?” He observes the gift box curiously, then admires the flowers. “It’s beautiful.”

You sit on the couch, patting the space beside you. Taehyung follows suit, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before untying the gift box’s black ribbon before his breath hitches in his throat.

With trembling hands, he lifts up the snow globe carefully. “It’s… Isn’t this where we met?”

You nod. “Just so you know, I couldn’t wish for a better person to be with,” you start. “I think some part of me has always known that you’d be the man of my dreams. Ever since you spilled strawberry juice on my shirt.”

It takes him a few moments to process your words as his eyes shift from the snow globe to you; a chuckle passes his lips. “First, that was an accident. And do you… really mean that?”

Taking his free hand on yours, you lace your fingers together. “I married you, didn’t I?” Your wedding rings gleam softly, reflecting the light of the burning candles in the room.

“Made me the happiest man alive.” He recalls the memories of falling cherry blossoms, spilled strawberry juice and frantic apologies-turned-laughter. A soft smile appears on your face after putting the snow globe back on its box. He turns to you. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You raise a brow at him. “What’s stopping you?”

“You don’t kiss on first dates.”

“Well…” You lean closer to him. “I think I can make an exception for the man of my dreams.”

Taehyung exhales, “Thank heavens.” He cups your face gently, clearing the remaining distance between the both of you. No matter how many times you kiss, it never fails to send his heart beating a tad faster or put a smile on his face. In other words, Taehyung is head over heels in love with you.

After a few moments, you pull away, and he chases after you, but you place a pointer finger on his lips. “Dinner first,” you remind him.

He sighs in defeat, lips turning into a pout and nodded. Once you both finish dinner, you lean back on your chair, patting your stomach. “That was a nice meal.”

“I have one more surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “What is it?” With a secretive grin, Taehyung stands from his seat and makes a beeline to the kitchen. You can hear the fridge opening and closing before your husband walks out of the kitchen with a—

“Isn’t that the platter I saw a few days ago?”

Excitement is written on his face at your realisation, placing the platter in front of you. You let out a gasp at the sight of the neatly-arranged apple rose pastries.

“I made it myself,” Taehyung beams. “Jimin and Jungkook came to help a bit.”

“A bit?” You tease, shooting him a glance before setting your gaze back on the pastries. “These look almost too pretty to eat.”

Taehyung drags his seat to your side and plops down. Anticipation is apparent in his eyes as he watches you pick up a pastry and bites into it. Another gasp escapes your throat at the burst of sweetness spreading across your tastebuds. You stare at him in shock as you chew.

“So?” He waits for your response. “How does it taste?”

“It’s...” You swallow the remaining pastry in your mouth down. “Really good.” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle at your compliment. “I’m… Wow,” you breathe out, utterly speechless. “So, this is why you wanted to start cooking?”

He blinks, with realisation dawning upon him, then he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Actually… That was to keep you distracted for a while. I wasn’t done baking the pastries yet.”

Snorting, you lift another pastry in front of your husband’s mouth; he bites and chews for a few seconds. And stops.

You furrow your brows at his odd reaction. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit—” Taehyung rushes to the guest bathroom without another word. Placing the half-bitten pastry on the empty plate, you follow suit and find your husband retching on the toilet bowl. Once he’s done, he reaches for a mouthwash. “I think—” He gargles the mouthwash then spit into the sink. “—that one is still undercooked.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” you ramble, watching Taehyung wipe his mouth with a paper towel, then washes his hands.

He cradles your face with his dried hands. “It’s my fault. I didn’t check if all the pastries are fully baked. I’m sorry.”

“You okay, now?” Your voice sounds uncertain, hands covering his bigger ones.

He nods reassuringly. “It’s not that bad. Maybe I was over-exaggerating— oof.” You poke his stomach in retaliation as he giggles.

“You had me worried.”

“And you’re still a worrywart.” He rubs his nose on yours affectionately. “My adorable worrywart.”

Your gaze falls on his drenched shirt (and luckily, he already discarded his burgundy suit). “Your shirt is ruined now.”

“Hmm...? Oh, dear,” he feigns worry, leaning on the marble sink—his palms on your hips. “Now, what do we do? Do you wanna—” You roll your eyes at the teasing glint in his eyes. Knowing what he’s up to, your fingers unbutton his shirt, leaving him flustered at your sudden movement. “W-Wait—!”

You pull the collar of his half-unbuttoned shirt, leaning forward to have his face so close to yours. Both your lips just millimetres away from each other. Voice dropping into a lilting whisper, you purr, “Let me make it easier for you today, yeah?”

Shivers run down Taehyung’s spine at your familiar words. “Is this payback because of this morning?” You shrug and finish unbuttoning his shirt. His lean chest on display to your eyes now. “Or is this just an excuse to get me naked?”

A teasing smirk curls up on your lips. “A bit of both.” Then you wrap your arms around his neck, closing the distance between you—lips claiming his own.

Humming in approval, Taehyung winds his arms around your waist. Fire ignites inside you as you pull away briefly. Your husband turns you around, settling you on the marble counter of the sink while he stands between your legs.

Your dress hikes up to your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when the man of your dreams drags his luscious lips across your jaw and trails down your neck. Your breath hitches when he kisses your sweet spot; fisting his opened shirt by the shoulder as he rains kisses on your collar bones, nipping on it.

“Tae—” You breathe out as he hums in response, tugging the zipper on the back of your dress down. “—kiss me, please.”

And he complies, claiming your lips.

Tangling your fingers through his hair, you let out a sigh as he trails downward once more, scraping the skin of your throat with his teeth. Tugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders and letting them pool on your waist, he lets out, “You’re gorgeous.” He places a kiss on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A soft whimper emits from your throat. “So damn gorgeous. And all mine.”

Tracing his jaw—half-lidded gaze staring at him—you whisper, “Why don’t we take this somewhere else more comfortable?”

Almost instantly, he lifts you up in his arms—your legs winding around his waist, arms around his neck—heads out of the bathroom and lays you gently on the bed. You discard your dress as it falls in a heap of silk on the rug. Then you tug off Taehyung’s shirt as he climbs on top of you.

“You’re spoiling me so much today. Thank you,” You mutter, holding your husband’s face in your hands.

“Thank you, my love. What I did today, it’s the least I can do,” He stares back at you with so much love, leaning down to kiss you softly. “After all, I’d do anything to make you smile.”

You chuckle at that, poking his nose. “I love you.”

He holds one hand of yours and kisses your palm. “And I love you.”

The remaining articles of clothing find themselves in a heap on the floor as your husband reminds you of your wedding night—making love to you into the late hours of the night.

EPILOGUE

“Don’t go…” he mumbles sleepily, keeping his arms around your naked waist.

“Tae, let me go, I just need a drink—” you wriggle in his hold to break free. “—my throat is really dry—” And your husband has the nerve to chuckle at your words. He lets out a pained groan as you poke his stomach (maybe a bit too hard), and finally, he lets you loose.

Climbing off the bed, you pick up his shirt and don it quickly. However, the moment you step out of the bedroom, an unpleasant smell wafts through your nostrils, and when you reach the living room, you gape in horror.

“Yeontan!” You shriek at the sight as the said perpetrator waddles towards you with his round innocent eyes.

Your husband emerges—bare-chested and in his boxers—out of the bedroom at your alarming shriek. Once he sees the scattered dog waste across the marble floor, he mutters, “I think we ignored him for too long.”

author’s note: i’ve decided to add another character (YAYYY CEO!taehyung) in the same universe as baker!jimin, florist!hobi and ???!jungkook (feel free to guess what he’d be 😙)!! thank you for reading and as always feedbacks are appreciated !!

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alienaiver · 3 years

Text

Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!

—————————

Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask. “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq x reader #waaaaah im so nervous about this!!!! i basically cranked it out in less than 24hrs ngl.... i had 1.5k of beautiful words before i came u #P WITH A WHOLE OTHER PLOT!!!! :-)#if any of u get the ref of the title i love u and we need to play mp together lmao <33333 #also kenhina and tsukiyachi is mentioned!#both reader and kuroo r A MESS #stay tuned for part 2!!!!!!#nohr.writing #half the battle series #im gonna dig a hole real quick to hide in hehehe #honestly im not sure this is entirely coherent i had so much.... i wanted to force into it im afraid some of it feels out of place but!!!#here we go!! face the fear lmao!!!!

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onlydylanobrien · 3 years

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Dylan O'Brien - NME Magazine Interview

Dylan O’Brien: “I was in this transitional phase – close to a quarter-life crisis”

From YA heartthrob to legitimate leading man – how the 'Maze Runner' star hit his stride after a whirlwind decade

Definitely!” hoots Dylan O’Brien when NME asks if he still has to audition. “I’m not Tom fucking Hanks, bro.” He’s clearly amused by our question, but forgive us for thinking the 29-year-old actor gets cast on reputation alone. A decade into his career, and he’s making an impressive transition from teen TV star and YA franchise hero to charismatic leading man.

New York-born O’Brien cut his teeth on MTV’s hit Teen Wolf series, before landing the lead in the Maze Runner film trilogy based on James Dashner’s hugely popular novels. Leading a band of bright young things that included ex-Skins tearaway Kaya Scodelario, Game Of Thrones’ Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Will Poulter, he honed his craft while racking up nearly a billion dollars at the box office. “My career is a constant acting class,” says O’Brien. “To be able to do the Maze Runner movies simultaneously with Teen Wolf was amazing in terms of getting in reps and working my [acting] muscle.”

Now for the sometimes tricky bit. Many actors struggle with the post-breakout period, but O’Brien is making it look easy so far. This year’s Netflix hit Love and Monsters proved he can carry an old-school family adventure, and new film Flashback (out next week) reveals an appetite for weirder, more cerebral work. He stars as Fred Fitzell, a young man reluctant to buckle down to life as a nine-to-fiver with a boring corporate job and a long-term girlfriend (Mindhunter‘s Hannah Gross). When he runs into a freaky-looking acquaintance from his teenage years, Fred becomes obsessed with finding an old high-school friend he used to drop a mind-bending experimental drug called Mercury with. It’s difficult to say any more without entering spoiler territory, but Flashback is a wild ride underpinned by the idea that we can exist in several realities at once. Even if you follow every plot twist, you might not fully understand the end. “Oh, it’s definitely a headfuck,” O’Brien agrees. “There’s not totally an answer to figure out. There’s a lot of different things that people can take from it.”

Speaking over Zoom from his LA home, O’Brien is bright, thoughtful and really good fun to talk to, especially when he relaxes into the interview, but he clearly knows where his line between public and private lies. When he first read the Flashback script, written by the film’s director Christopher MacBride, his “mind was blown” by just how much he related to Fred. “I felt like I was in this transitional phase of my life that was, you know, sort of close to a quarter-life crisis type thing,” he says. “For whatever reason, it was like me and this script were meant to be. I remember reading it and thinking: ‘I am this guy right now.'”

“There were a lot of things in my personal life that were neglected for a while”

When we ask why O’Brien felt as though he had reached a “transitional phase”, he gives an answer that’s vague but not exactly evasive. For understandable reasons, he doesn’t mention the incredibly traumatic motorcycle accident he sustained while shooting the final Maze Runner film in March 2016. O’Brien suffered severe trauma to the brain and said in 2017 that he underwent extensive facial reconstructive surgery after the accident “broke most of the right side of my face”. Tellingly, he’s never really revealed what happened on set or how it affected him.

Today, O’Brien dances around the details of the accident and other issues he was dealing with at the time, but doesn’t shy away from discussing his inner conflict. “You know, it was a lot of personal things combined with at-a-point-in-my-career things,” he says after a brief pause. He says he’d have been going through some of this stuff anyway, simply because of his age, but it sounds as though success intensified it all. “It was like this whole fucking storm of shit,” he continues. “I was simultaneously so fulfilled and happy about these, like, otherworldly and surreal things that I had experienced in terms of where my career had brought me. I had all this confidence and fulfilment and beautiful people [in my life] – such amazing things to experience at a young age. But at the same time, there were a lot of things in my personal life that were unchecked and sort of neglected for a while.”

O’Brien says that in time, he realised he had to “stop for a second” and “re-explore how I wanted my life to look going forward”. In fairness, you can see why he needed a breather: his career took off while he was still a teenager. After his family moved from New Jersey to Los Angeles County when he was 12, O’Brien contemplated a career as a sports broadcaster – his Twitter bio still bills him as a “no longer suffering Mets fan” – then began posting YouTube videos as moviekidd826. A funny, slickly edited skit titled ‘How to Prepare for the SAT in 45 seconds’, shared when he was just 17, shows he was a born performer and storyteller. YouTube success led to him getting a manager, but his breakthrough role in Teen Wolf still came out of the blue. At the time, he was treading water at a local community college and taking auditions on the side.

Still, he has since taken a rather fatalistic view of this career-making moment. “It’s totally weird because, when I think about it now, I don’t see how it could have happened any other way. I can’t picture myself doing anything else now,” he told Collider in 2011. “It was really sudden and a little random, and not provoked by anything. It was just out of nowhere. It wasn’t my intentional doing.” Today, O’Brien summarises his skyscraper career trajectory succinctly. “I guess I just graduated high school and started acting,” he says. “And then I felt like I was just flying by the seat of my pants and never got a chance to stop.” Thankfully, straight-out-the-blocks Hollywood success hasn’t taken away his sense of perspective. When I say how easy social media makes it to compare yourself unfavourably to others, O’Brien jumps in: “Yeah, that’s very true. I was watching the Billie Eilish doc the other day, and I was like, I’ve done nothing. I’m not an artist at all!”

“No one thought ‘Love and Monsters’ was going to be good!”

O’Brien is also self-deprecating when he talks about being cast in Flashback, suggesting it happened because he had such an intense connection with Fred. “I was honestly like, ‘Who is watching me right now?’ That is the best way I can describe how I was feeling when I came across this script,” he says. “Chris [MacBride, director] and I had this conversation that went so well in terms of [my] understanding this script that I think he’d sent around a lot and [that] very commonly wasn’t understood. I think Chris has even said that the night before shooting, he suddenly had this thought, like, ‘Wait, do I even think he’s a good actor?'”

Though O’Brien has firmly ring-fenced elements of his private life, he’s actually pretty frank about his acting vehicles. He readily admits he was expecting a snobbish response to Love and Monsters, a CGI-heavy hybrid of post-apocalyptic action and romcom that dropped on Netflix in April and topped the streamer’s daily most-watched list. “It means so much that Love and Monsters has gotten the response that it’s gotten,” O’Brien says. “No one thought this movie was going to be good.” His blunt honesty makes me laugh out loud. “No one did though!” he says in response. “And so, fuck that. You know, most of the people who say something to me about the movie, they’re like: ‘I watched Love and Monsters, and it was… good?’ And honestly, that just cracks me up.” For obvious reasons, we hastily decide not to share our response to the film – namely, that it was a whole lot better than expected.

In Love and Monsters, O’Brien plays Joel, a survivor of a so-called “monsterpocalypse” that has bumped humans to the bottom of the food chain. Though he’s known in his colony as a bit of a coward, Joel sets off on a treacherous 80-mile journey to find his high school sweetheart Aimee (Iron Fist‘s Jessica Henwick), which means evading the hungry clutches of various supersize grizzlies including a giant monster-frog hiding in a suburban pond. It’s a simple but pretty out-there premise that wouldn’t work if O’Brien’s performance was even slightly condescending. Instead, his unselfconscious sincerity really sells a film that has as much in common with the family-oriented Robin Williams movie Night at the Museum as darker fare like The Walking Dead.

His obvious affection for the project really comes across during our interview today. “When I read the script, I just thought it was so sweet and funny and smart and unique, but at the same time reminiscent of all these movies that don’t really get made any more,” he says. That’s a fair point: Love and Monsters is neither a fail-safe superhero movie nor a slice of classy Oscar bait. “And when they were talking about how to market this movie, it was so funny hearing all these conversations like, ‘How do we actually get people to watch it?'” he adds. “But that’s a big part of the reason I wanted to do this movie: because it felt like something I missed seeing.”

“I’m lucky to be surrounded by people who want to make something out of love”

So in a way, Love and Monsters was a risk for an actor seeking to establish himself outside of a bankable movie franchise and a hit TV show. O’Brien has only made four films since his final Maze Runner outing in 2018, and insists he hasn’t been tactical with his choices. “I don’t have anyone saying, ‘We need to get you in an Oscar vehicle’, or any of that kind of shit,” he says. “I’m really lucky to be surrounded by people who think like me: that you should do what you’re drawn to, and make something out of love.”

He’s recently finished shooting a mysterious crime thriller called The Outfit in London with Mark Rylance. Directed and co-written by Graham Moore, who won an Oscar for his screenplay to Alan Turing biopic The Imitation Game, O’Brien calls it “quite possibly one of the most special pieces of writing I’ve ever experienced”. He first read the script on a plane and says he “actually stood up and clapped” when he got to the end. Considering O’Brien probably wasn’t flying Ryanair, this reaction presumably attracted a few baffled glances.

Anyway, it must be pretty intimidating walking onto set with Rylance, a multi-award-winning actor revered by his peers – Al Pacino once said he “speaks Shakespeare as if it was written for him the night before” – but it sounds as though O’Brien took it all in stride. He says he’s confident in his abilities, but admits to having a slight wobble whenever he begins a new project. “I’m always sort of re-questioning everything – like, ‘Can I even act?'” he says. “But I think there’s something very natural about that. I think even Rylance could relate to that feeling. Acting is like starting a new year at school every single time.”

At this point in his career, O’Brien has made peace with the fact that some people will have preconceptions about him based on what he’s known for: Maze Runner and Teen Wolf. “People will put you in a box no matter what,” he says. “There was definitely a time when that would get to me, especially when it felt like somebody had a perspective on me that in my soul, I just felt wasn’t accurate.” Still, there’s no doubt he wants to show us what’s really in his soul with more films like Flashback. “If anything,” he adds bullishly, “it just makes me think: ‘Right, I’m really gonna show them now’.”

‘Flashback’ is out on digital platforms from June 4

#dylan o'brien #love and monsters press #flashback press #the outfit press

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mellowswriting · 3 years

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Home

pairing || Marcus Pike x fem!Reader

summary || Welcome home, Baby Pike! Sneak peeks of Marcus Pike being the best father and husband in the world.

words || 3,985

warnings || pregnancy and labor (no graphic detail), allusions to sex, BABY DADDY MARCUS PIKE Y’ALL, a somewhat physical altercation (Between Marcus and a stranger), fluff, mentions of breastfeeding, referenced breeding kink

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

You never expect your life to change on a Tuesday at two o’clock in the afternoon. In fact, you expected it to change three days prior on your due date, but Baby Pike decided that they wanted to make their entrance into the world a total surprise to everyone. After a morning full of what you thought were Braxton Hicks contractions, your water broke right in the middle of the living room. A small surprised yelp came from you, one that had Marcus scrambling from the kitchen to your side in an instant.

“Honey, what is it? Are you okay?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together in worry.

“Yeah.” You said breathily, chuckling slightly. “Yeah, my water just broke.”

“What?” Marcus whispered and you watched as the realization broke across his face. He immediately held you at your forearms and eased you back to sit on the couch, a smile slowly growing on his face as he knelt in front of you. “Okay.”

“Oh my god, Marcus.” You stared at him, eyes wide, hands rubbing your belly almost absentmindedly. “Marcus, we’re having a baby.”

“Holy shit, we’re having a baby!” Marcus cried out excitedly and you couldn’t help but pull him forward to give him a kiss, one he eagerly reciprocated before pulling back suddenly. “I have to call Dr. Weston!”

At first, you had been pretty worried about how Marcus was going to handle your labor - the man could barely handle it when you had a headache, for god’s sake. But to your surprise, he shouldered the role of birthing partner with a calm demeanor. Firm and steadfast, Marcus let you drape your arms over his shoulders to support yourself through some particularly rough contractions, his voice low and reassuring as he met each of your fears with steady encouragement.

It really shouldn’t have surprised you, in hindsight.

Marcus practically ran after Dr. Weston to scrub up with her, intent on helping catch his little one ever since she brought it up and you confirmed that it was okay over and over; he never wanted to overstep, especially during such a serious, life-changing moment. His excitement was a beacon through your pain and exhaustion and frustration.

The last few pushes were rough. You were exhausted, everything hurt, and you were just over it. You were over all of it, and you wanted that damn baby out and you wanted to fucking sleep. Marcus could tell, his eyebrows pulled together in worry, but the second he stood from between your legs to return to your side, you gritted out that if he didn’t stay right there and help bring his child into the world, you would kill him yourself.

Understandable, but not your proudest moment.

With a dozen more pushes and the encouragement of both Dr. Weston and your fiancé, a shrill cry pierced the room, followed immediately by your fiancé’s amazed whispers of “Oh my god, oh my god”. Your little one was lifted up to your chest by Marcus’s sure hands.

“He’s so perfect.” You whispered, your voice hoarse and barely audible over his wails, tears of pain and exhaustion and joy falling once more as you cradled the perfect little baby against your chest. You laughed wetly and looked up at Marcus, your tears mirrored on his face, and you couldn’t help but say, “I told you he was a boy!”

“You were right.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair before gazing back at his son and laying his gloved hand on his back. He didn’t bother trying to hold back the tears and neither did you. “You were so right. He’s so beautiful.”

After you and your son were both cleaned up and settled and one extremely personal visit from the hospital’s lactation consultant, you laid in the hospital bed with little Oliver held at your breast. The tiny baby was just as exhausted as you were it seemed, his eyes fluttering shut as he suckled. Marcus paced by the bedside, his phone cradled to his ear as he spoke to his parents.

“Yeah, she was amazing. You and Dad can come by once she gets some sleep, they’re both pretty tired.” Marcus kept his voice low even though he knew you weren’t asleep, trying to let you at least rest for a little bit. “Oh, he’s perfect. Seven pounds, eight ounces. Twenty inches long. He’s got a head full of hair, just like I did.”

The pride and happiness in his voice made you smile despite the exhaustion and soreness that radiated through your body. Marcus sat next to you once his call was over, resting his head on your arm as he gazed at you.

“Thank you.” Marcus whispered. His eyes were shining with more tears and an appreciation that took your breath away. “You have given me everything I’ve ever wanted and I just… thank you.”

“No, thank you.” You chuckled quietly. “I’m sorry I threatened to kill you.”

Marcus shrugged, an amused smile on his face. “I don’t blame you.”

You puckered your lips in a silent request for a kiss, something Marcus gave without hesitation. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Marcus gave you another kiss before leaning back in his seat, content to sit and watch the miracle that was his life. “Get some sleep, my love.”

---------

The first weeks at home with your little boy only confirmed the suspicions you had since the moment you met Marcus Pike - he was an amazing father. Beyond that, he was an amazing partner. Despite your insistence that he didn't need to, Marcus took it upon himself to bring you a glass of water and anything else you could possibly need every time you nursed. A pillow to prop up your feet, a book to read, the remote to pick a show to watch. Only when he was sure there was nothing more he could do, Marcus would sit next to you, happy to just enjoy the moment together.

A lot of promises were made, way back in the beginning of your pregnancy, a few of which you didn't even remember at first. But Marcus did, and that man followed through. Each time a tiny wail would echo through your home past ten o’clock at night, Marcus tossed back the blankets and was out of bed before you could even sit up all the way. Sometimes he would deliver a little bundle of hungry baby to your arms and then whisk him away back to his bed once his belly was full. Other times you would hear Marcus over the baby monitor as he hummed and sang and whispered to his son as he changed his diaper and rocked him back to sleep.

“Thank you. You’ve given me so much, I… thank you.” He murmured into your shoulder as he settled into bed behind you one night, having just put Oliver into his bed. “I love you so much and I promise you, I will give you the entire damn world.”

“You already have.” You whispered as you turned to kiss him.

---------

Somehow time managed to drag and fly by at the same time, the days, weeks, and months morphing together. Oliver grew like a weed, sleeping well and eating more than you thought he could even hold in his little belly. Every milestone he hit made pride swell inside you both. Watching Marcus interact with Oliver took your breath away more often than not. The second you passed Oliver off into his father's capable hands, Marcus was cooing at him, lifting him up in the air to see that gummy smile and hear that high peal of giggles each time Marcus gently jostled him about.

Going out in public with Oliver had a tendency to be nerve wracking, especially those first few times. But your worries about germs and public diaper changes quickly gave way to the fear and frustration that came from complete and utter strangers. It was the last thing you expected to be a problem and maybe that was naive of you, but holy shit. How many people thought it was perfectly acceptable to just harass parents while they’re out with their babies?

Too fucking many.

Oliver, on the other hand, loved going to stores, although the rhythmic swaying as he snuggled into either you or Marcus in his ring sling almost always had him knocked out within the first fifteen minutes. One second, those big brown eyes were taking in the bright lights and the next, he was conked out with his little cheek squished in the most adorable way.

He was snoozing against your chest as you perused the ice cream aisle, Marcus trailing a couple feet behind you with the cart as you both tried to pick out some flavors. You were so focused on the billions of choices in the freezer in front of you that you didn’t even notice the way the other man in the aisle was eyeing you.

“How old?” He asked, motioning to Oliver.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. All of the questions, god were you over it, but you weren't trying to cause a scene in the middle of the ice cream aisle. “Uh, four months.”

“Congratulations!” The man said and before you could fully process what was happening in front of you, he was reaching a hand out seeming to… touch your baby, what the hell did this guy think he’s doing!? You twisted away on instinct as both of hands came up to cover Oliver protectively, but before you could find your voice from under your shock to give that man a piece of your mind, Marcus swiftly stepped between you and grasped the man’s wrist.

In all your years of knowing Marcus, you had never seen his face so stoney. The muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, his eyes alight with anger, and all you could do was stare, wide-eyed at this fierce and protective side of your fiancé you had never seen before. Marcus didn’t say anything - the punishing grip he had on his wrist was enough to have him murmuring an apology and backing off. His face didn’t soften until he looked at you, his hand settling over yours on Oliver’s back as if he had to reassure himself that his son was still cradled safely between you.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asked.

You still couldn’t find your voice, though this time it was stuck behind a lump of admiration and appreciation and desire because holy shit. Watching Marcus shift from his usual goofy, loving self to someone who would readily and easily break the wrist of a man who had the audacity to try to touch you or your child… it stoked something deep in your belly, some fundamental, basic urge that made you crave him.

“C’mon, we don’t need ice cream. We need to go home.” You said, grabbing him by his forearm and dragging him back to the cart.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Marcus’s voice was full of worry. “I acted like a caveman and it was ridiculous, I shouldn’t have -”

You cut him off with a kiss, leaning up on your tiptoes to firmly press your lips against his with your hand at the side of his neck. It pulled a surprised sound from Marcus but he gladly reciprocated, his hand finding your hip by habit.

“We aren’t going home because I’m mad, Marcus.” You whispered almost conspiratorially before jokingly covering the side of Oliver’s head, as if to keep him from hearing you. “We’re going home because I need you to fuck me.”

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but a playful grin followed immediately after and he immediately grabbed the cart in one hand and intertwined his fingers with yours in the other. The shopping trip was only half successful grocery-wise, but in the end it was worth it to be able to drag him into bed and show him just how much you appreciated that protective side of him.

---------

The last thing Marcus wanted to do was go back to work. Walking out the door and leaving you and Oliver at home had been damn near impossible, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He had used every second of his paternity leave and if he tried to weasel out of going back into the office, he was pretty sure he would get fired.

That first day was the worst. Marcus knew better than to call or text you constantly, but he missed being able to just see you and Oliver whenever he wanted. So instead, he checked his phone constantly, glancing over and over again just in case he received a text from you. Every now and then his phone would chime and it made him grin with each and every picture or small update you sent him. The little reminders of what he had waiting for him are what got him through the day.

Each week that passed, the wait for the clock to chime five o’clock became easier. His passion for his job reignited once he was steadily working again and his life felt so much more full than he ever thought it could be. He had a job he loved with an amazing team and a family at home that he cherished. It choked him up if he thought about it all too much, how he endured heartache after heartache, all the while thinking he would never actually get the life he envisioned for himself.

It made coming home to you and his son that much sweeter. Each evening played out by the same pattern; Marcus would plant a kiss to your lips and then Oliver’s head as he scooped him up to snuggle him, inquiring about how your day was and intent on hearing every silly little detail of whatever you got up to that day. A satisfied little smile found his face as just how full and happy his life was.

Bedtime routine was something Marcus excelled at; if there was a competition for getting a baby settled into their bed, he would win first place every damn time. You were jealous, there were no two ways about it. Yes, you could get Oliver down for the night just fine, but there was just something about the calming air Marcus carried about him that had the little one’s eyes fluttering shut.

You claimed that he was magic, but Marcus was sure it was just his boring office stories that knocked his son out.

Weekends were something special to Marcus. He loved the lazy mornings where he didn’t have to heave himself out of bed and creep around to get ready for work without waking the baby. Being able to instead appreciate how pretty you looked lost in your dreams and wake you with soft kisses was a gift he appreciated even before your family had grown.

Except now he got the added pleasantry of scooping up Oliver when he woke and bringing him into the big bed for you to feed him before Marcus could make him laugh that adorable laugh by popping up from behind the sheet he held in front of his face. Those cozy moments were his happy place, the fuel that got him through long days and sleepless nights.

Since the weekend brought all three of you together for the entire day, Marcus had taken a liking to offering to gather up Oliver after he had a full belly so you could have some time for yourself. It left him in awe just how much you did for your family, how hard you worked to keep the fires burning at home, and he wanted you to keep your fire burning within as well. The soft sounds of music and the perfumey smells of your bath products coming from under the bathroom door always made him smile, little Oliver curled against his chest. It was a win-win all the way - you got to relax without the immediate responsibility of childcare hanging over your head and Marcus got to bond with his kiddo.

Afterwards, Marcus would always bring the three of you together for some quality family time. Whether it was a simple walk through the neighborhood to the park a few streets away or a simple picnic in the backyard, Marcus loved getting to see you and Oliver bathed in sunlight, both of you cracking up as you tickled him while he tried to wiggle from your grasp. Oliver always ended up asleep at the end of the entire ordeal, exhausted from all of the fun and action, and Marcus always volunteered to carry him home, even when he had the empty stroller in front of him.

---------

You woke up feeling beyond well-rested. The heaviness that often plagued your eyelids had eased completely, leaving your eyes opening easily to blink against the sunlight peeking through the window. The sheets next to you were rumpled and cold and you shot upright on instinct. When you fell asleep, both Marcus and Oliver had been curled up with you, your son safe between both of his parents as he snored lightly. He wasn’t feeling well, a small fever and a case of the sniffles making him more clingy than usual, and neither you or Marcus could deny the puppy-dog eyes he gave from the foot of your bed when he toddled into your bedroom from his own.

The sound of Sunday morning cartoons eased the worry that prickled down your spine. With a quick stretch and a low groan, you tossed back the blankets and quickly made your way into the living room, and the sight that met you brought a small smile to your face. Both of your boys were still in their pajamas, a colorful pile of crayons between them where they lay on the floor as they scribbled away in a shared coloring book, the cartoons on the television entirely forgotten as father and son created yet another masterpiece sure to end up on the refrigerator with the half a dozen others. It took a moment for you to catch Marcus’s eye and he smiled at you in greeting before leaning closer to Oliver to whisper, “Guess who’s awake?”

Oliver’s head immediately snapped up to look around and he scrambled to his feet the second he saw you standing in the doorway. “Mama, mama, mama!”

“Good morning, little man!” You greeted as you scooped him off of his feet, his arms wrapping around your neck and tightening with a dramatic groan. You settled him on your hip and brushed his wild hair from his face. “Feeling better?”

“Better!” Oliver exclaimed, nodding so fast it made even you dizzy.

“I’m glad, baby.” You ruffled his hair, chuckling at his dismayed response of ducking away from your hand and wiggling from your grasp. His little feet took off running the second they touched the carpet, but your arms weren’t empty for long. No, Marcus stepped right into them and wrapped you in a warm hug, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“We decided to let you sleep in.” Marcus said, his chest rumbling against you as you relaxed into his embrace. “His fever is gone, has been since around 7:30.”

“Good, I was worried we’d have to take him to the pediatrician.” You murmured before leaning up to kiss him soft and slow, breaking away at the sound of a pan hitting the floor in the kitchen. “Sounds like someone’s trying to make breakfast again.”

“Better get in there before he spills flour all over the floor again.” Marcus chuckled, giving your ass a quick pat as he followed the sounds of destruction.

Once Oliver had gobbled down a bowl of cereal and you had a cup of coffee to sip on, all three of you settled on the floor to finish up the drawing that Oliver insisted he needed both of his parent’s help for. He was all too happy to slap it on the refrigerator under one of his letter magnets before scampering off to drag all of his toys out for the first of many times. Marcus plopped down on the couch next to you, situating himself so he could lay his head in your lap.

Those pretty brown eyes of his fluttered shut with a pleased hum as you began running your hands through his hair, the untamed curls fluffy and soft between your fingers. He winced slightly at the familiar sound of Oliver’s toy chest dumping over in his room and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, I was thinking…” Marcus murmured, sleepiness returning to his voice under the relaxation your talented hands brought him.

“Don’t hurt yourself in the process.” You teased.

A pout formed on Marcus’s face and you leaned down to kiss his put out lower lip so he would continue. “I was thinking we could talk about if you want to do all of this again.”

“All of what?” You asked, your brain still booting up from sleep. Your fingers paused in his hair when it clicked. “Do you mean another baby?”

“Yeah.” Marcus’s voice was soft, quiet, as if he was fearing rejection.

“That’s ironic, actually.” You said with a small laugh. “I was thinking about asking you if you wanted to have another baby.”

“What?” Marcus sat up to face you, hope and excitement bright in his eyes. “Really?”

“Of course,” You shrugged as you reached out for his hand, your thumb swiping back and forth over his knuckles. “Ollie is gonna be in preschool soon and I think three-ish years is a good gap for siblings. He really would make such a great big brother. Besides, I already told you I wanted a full house. Wait, we would definitely have to find a new house. Shit. I didn’t even think of that. Maybe we should just -”

Marcus’s lips crashed against yours, effectively cutting off the worried words that were about to spill from you in a rush. The kiss was messy and broken up by the huge smile Marcus wore. “We can start looking now. That way we’ll have a new house by the time I get you pregnant again.”

A shiver rocked down your spine at his words, at how excited he was at the prospect of having your belly swell with his baby again. Marcus pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, the both of you just breathing in the moment of electricity. “Are you really ready to do this?”

“Hell yes,” Marcus said with an eager laugh, his voice lowering as he continued. “And this time I’ll know exactly what I’m doing. I’ll know I’m filling you up, getting you nice and round with my baby again.”

“Fuck, Marcus.” You whimpered, that familiar heat pooling in your belly.

“Just you wait until tonight, sweetheart.” Mischief was plain on his face, his bottom lip momentarily captured between his teeth as he gripped your chin in a gentle, yet firm hold. “I can’t wait to get you pregnant again.”

With that lewd thought, Marcus gave you another firm kiss before leaving you there on the couch to make another cup of coffee, probably to give you both the space to cool off. With a loud sigh, you leaned heavily into the cushions unable to contain the grin you wore. How lucky were you? An amazing husband who doubled as an amazing father to your sweet, happy little boy. Two thriving careers. And even more plans for your family’s future. Soon your son hopped his way back into the living room, insisting you and Marcus come see the tower he made with his blocks. Hand in hand, the two of you listened as Oliver explained his creation, happiness and hope hovering in the air around you.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike

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0606-hyuck · 3 years

Text

a letter to my lover | lee jeno

♡ dear y/n, i’m writing you this letter in the hopes that it gets to you well. our relationship has been tumultuous, that’s for sure, and i thought it was high time i wrote you a letter detailing all the times you said "i love you" that are important to me.

genre: jeno x reader, fluff, mild angst, supernatural!jeno, angel!jeno

warnings: blood and violence, descriptions of injuries

word count: 1.9K

tagging: the lovely @roses-of-the-moon ♡ @mora134340 + @nct-writers

Dear my beloved Y/N,

The first time you said “I love you”, you had already saved my life.

I still remember the day you found me, as clear as the cloudless sky that loomed above us. You were taking a short walk through a hiking trail when we met; the stony path was surrounded by great trees, which you later informed me were pine native to the area. I still remember the look on your face when you found me: beaten, bloodied, and bruised, with my left ankle twisted in between two large roots that protruded from the dirt. You clearly couldn’t believe what you were seeing, if we’re going off of the double take you did - you later told me that you never imagined you would come across a half de-robed young man with feathery wings sticking out of his naked back.

When I realised you had spotted me, a billion thoughts were flying through my mind. Would you help me? Would you call the authorities to report what you’d just witnessed? Would you even believe what your eyes were showing you? From the moment we met, you knew I was not from this world - hell, the wings were a pretty big give away - but only hesitated for a second before you ran off the path to help me, to make sure there were no other walkers travelling the same track. It would be an understatement to claim I was in a wee bit of a predicament. Considering I was an angel who had just been chased from my world into yours, beaten, and left for dead, life wasn’t really going my way at this point. I was the divine being in this situation, but on that day you were the only angel in the forest.

Without batting a single eyelash, you rushed over to examine my wounds. The cuts were deep and painful, but ultimately not life-threatening. You mustered all your strength to pull back the roots that enclasped my broken ankle, and, after you had me leaning against you, you threw your jacket over my shoulders to conceal my wings, arguably the only in-tact part of me at this stage. You led me back down the path, and by some god-given miracle we hobbled to your parked car together without encountering another person on the track. You saved my life that day, no questions asked, and for that, Y/N, I will spend the rest of my life trying to pay you back.

The second time you said “I love you”, I had fallen for you.

The day you found me wounded in the forest, you had taken me back to your apartment where you lived alone. I remember thinking, even in my delirious loss-of-blood state, that your home was so dull and lifeless and there was no way any human could live here and be truly happy.

You spent the next few weeks virtually gaining a nurse’s certificate of practice with the amount of knowledge you were retaining in order to heal me. Taking me to a hospital was out of the question, given the wings, and so you resorted to healing my cuts, bruises, and bones from the comfort of your old single bed. I remember you were worried that you would end up mistreating a festering wound and I would die alone in your apartment while you were at your day job, but you really had nothing to worry about.

After six weeks, my body was completely healed, and the home-made splint you fastened around my leg had straightened the bone right out. Of course, I was left with a barely-noticeable limp, one you would only spot if you already knew I had one, but that was to be expected given how mangled it was when you found me.

The only thing your new-found medical skills were not able to heal was my broken heart. Granted, I didn’t expect you to. Facing the truth that I’d been exiled from the world I had called my home for my whole life by people who believed lies about my past, and having to leave behind friends and family that cared for me was something I was going to have to deal with at some point. It would take years for me to fully accept my new life, although you were there to support me every step of the way.

When I had physically healed, and informed you I had no idea how to get back home, we both realised the only option for us was to become obligatory roommates. I not only had the good luck of running into possibly the only human who unconditionally accepted what I was, but also one who was in dire need of socialisation and company, too.

We spent the next few weeks doing this thing you called ‘online shopping’ together, finding furniture and items to decorate our new, shared space with. After our packages had arrived, we found ourselves with a brighter, cosier place we were soon calling our home. And, for the first time since I’d met you, you seemed truly happy.

The third time you said “I love you”, I was giving up my life for you.

By this stage, three years had passed since you had first saved me. Our meeting in the forest felt like eons ago, and we had only grown closer since then. Our apartment had stayed more or less the same since we first decorated it - the only difference was we got rid of your musty single bed in exchange for a larger, softer queen-sized bed, which we spent many long nights together in. We referred to each other as ‘partners’, and we had shared so many feelings, thoughts, and memories together that I couldn’t ever imagine living in a world without you.

But that was the problem. You were a mere human and I an angel - there would be a time when you would pass and I would find myself alone in a world that was not my own. That’s when I made the decision - I would give up my immortality to live out the rest of my natural life with you. You tried to convince me not to, worried I was giving too much up for our relationship, but my mind was set. And so, my research began.

When I was a young boy in the celestial plane, I heard rumours about ancient beings who had the power to strip angels of their divinity, leaving them as mortal as any typical human, and cast them away into other worlds. If I could find one of these beings, I could ask them to rid me of my divinity too, and send me back to Earth. Well, that was the plan, anyway.

I have to give credit where credit is due, Y/N, once you realised I had made my decision, you did your best to help me find a way back home. The library in your town appeared seconds away from falling down, but contained numerous books about mythical creatures and local legends, and you always fetched the ones I needed when I asked.

I spent months upon months scouring every book and online resource I could find that was even remotely related to angels and the celestial plane. Long nights were consumed by skim reading hundreds of pages of decades old writings, but we eventually found something promising.

Since I was still technically an angel, I retained some of my powers which were vital for me to be able to travel back home. I still remember the last time you held me before I left. You buried your head into my shoulder and left a massive tear stain on my yellow jersey, and you wouldn’t let me go for a solid five minutes. You said you loved me, and I said it back. I had told you I loved you numerous times before this, but this time it was different.

The ritual I was about to perform was dodgy, at best, and even if I did make it to the celestial plane there was no guarantee I would be able to return. When you held me tight, all that was running through my head was the last few years we’d spent together, the happiest years of my whole life. I couldn’t ever imagine living without you, but that was a reality I was facing - for all we knew, this was the last time we would see each other.

The last time you said “I love you” was yesterday.

You were running late, I had cooked dinner and was waiting for you to arrive, so I phoned you to ask when you would be coming home. You said you were stuck in traffic, which was typical for this new, big city we had moved to, and before you ended the call you told me you loved me.

Since I had left to terminate my status as an angel, I had managed to successfully convince the divine beings that I had no use for my immortality, and return home to you. Shifting through the worlds was costly on my mind and body, but when I came home and saw the look of pure relief and tears on your face at my safety, it was all worth it.

Now that I was a regular human and no longer had five-foot long wings sprouting from my back, I could go out in public for the first time in years. The first place you took me was your parents house, where after all these years you could finally introduce me as your boyfriend. Your parents were so lovely, and after we visited them we went to the beach. I’d never seen one before and didn’t know how to swim because we had nothing like this where I was from, but it was one of the best days of my life.

That was almost a year ago now. I didn’t get to tell you I loved you this morning since I had to leave for work so early, but that was common. My new job as a teacher meant we could afford to move out of our one bedroom apartment to the bright lights of the big city, and finally settle down in our new life together. It seems so long ago since you first said “I love you”, and truthfully, it is, but my love for you has only grown with years gone by.

I’m writing this letter for you because I don’t think I can verbally explain how much you mean to me. No part of me doubts the fact I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for you stumbling across me all those years ago. I’m on my break at work as I’m writing this letter, and I can’t help but feel like my pocket is a little too heavy. I picked out an engagement ring for you last week, and I plan to give it to you right after I give you this letter.

No matter how many times I tell you, my words will not be able to convey just how much I love you - but hopefully this ring will.

Yours, forever and always,

Jeno ♡

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #dreamwritersnet #nct #nct dream #jeno #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno nct #jeno nct dream #jeno x reader #jeno imagine #jeno scenario #supernatural nct

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Video

youtube

‘today’s silm vocaloid song: clear sky engine (クリヤスカイ機関) by nyanyannya and hara ft. rin kagamine and zunko tohoku

this one’s about elrond, maglor, and the sudden non-ending of the world. you know that thing where you build an elaborate fandom video in your head for a completely unrelated song, but you don’t have the most basic art skills you’d need to make it a reality? yeah, i square that circle by writing them out. here, have an extremely long songfic/filk/commentary/thing

It was just another day, beneath a black sky

The bustle of camp churned on around me

I wasn’t paying attention to what my hands were doing

Dreaming of a shining star-lit sky

we open on elrond, living in a world about to die. the fëanorians were forced to abandon amon ereb years ago, and now the last of the host ekes out a precarious nomadic existence, raiding deserted villages for food and losing more people they can’t replace with each battle. they’re still doing better than everyone else on the mainland, though. their blades, at least, remain sharp

(the smoke from the fires of angband has risen to cover the whole continent in dark clouds. some of the sun’s warmth still gets through, and on good nights the star of high hope is still faintly visible, but the light-filled skies of old are little more than memory. all the survivors know that the end is near. it’s only a matter of time)

He’d broken a promise he’d made to us

So I was a little more annoyed at him than usual

He chatted with me while I worked to make up for it

And I made all my usual complaints

elrond and elros are at this point... i’d say very early teens? not that they had much of a childhood; the fëanorians are so short-staffed the twins have been doing odd jobs around camp pretty much since it became clear they weren’t going to run away. today elrond is taking stock of the medical supplies, less because he has any interest in the healing arts than because it’s a job that needs doing and everyone else is busy

maglor is hovering within talking distance, doing elrond-doesn’t-care-what. the twins’ relationship with maglor is extremely complicated to say the least, their mercurial hellbeast protector who scares the shit out of everyone else they’ve ever met and who has stood between them and the darkness for as long as they can remember. recently, he promised to stay with the twins while they did something difficult, but he failed to do so for a whole host of reasons, including getting into a two-hour shrieking match with maedhros at the last possible moment. elros shrugged it off, like elros shrugs everything off, but elrond is a simmering cauldron of adolescent rage at the best of times

which is why maglor’s checking on him, giving him an outlet for his anger before it can turn into despair. because what would be the point, in the end? they’re all going to die anyway. one of the reasons maglor’s resisted sending the kids to balar so hard is that no matter where they are, eventually morgoth will sweep down and destroy them all. there’s nowhere safe left, nothing they can do to protect them. none of this is even new, it’s a shadow that’s hung over them all since the twins grew old enough to understand this

so maglor and elrond chat, or rather elrond grumbles incessantly and maglor snarks as upliftingly as he can remember to. it’s a day like any other, nothing about it to distinguish it from the hundreds that came before or however many will come after. that is, until one of the lesser minions comes over, yelling, ‘boss! boss! you have to see this!’

elrond turns around. for the first time ever, he sees true hope on her face

“Have you finally grown tired of us?” I hissed

But in that moment excitement ran round the campsite

And someone cried out with joy

“The hour we thought would never be, the return of the light, has finally come to pass!”

far, far away, the hosts of the valar are landing on the shores of beleriand. disembarking from their luminous ships, clad in radiant armour and carrying blessed weapons, their brilliance pierces the dark fog that has settled over beleriand for so long. shining like the stars come to earth, the hallowed army of valinor begins its long march towards the gates of angband. far above, ships riding jets of light slice open the smog

this news - this unexpected, unbelievable, impossible miracle bestowed unto doomed beleriand, this chance that their enemy might actually fall - is the greatest thing anyone in camp’s heard all century. maybe in more prosperous times the host would have groused about the valar finally seeing fit to get off their asses, but in this world turned to ash any chance at victory is to be celebrated. the minions throw a massive impromptu party, of the kind they haven’t since before sirion. elros is right there with them, singing off-key and laughing as loud as anyone else. even maedhros cracks a tiny relieved smile

maglor watches the festivities from the outside, more genuinely optimistic than he thought he was still capable of. elrond joins him, brow furrowed as he tries to comprehend it all. they talk

“It feels like a dream I’ll never wake up from”

“What are you blabbering about now?”

elrond is voiced by zunko, maglor by rin. the song’s more of a dialogue than a duet, so i’ll be bolding maglor’s lines

The sheet of paper I held in my hands read

“The hosts of the West have come! Our world is saved!”

the letter’s from gil-galad, or at least his administrative apparatus. it’s not even that hostile; apparently the armies of the gods showing up out of nowhere to save them all from certain doom has him in a magnanimous mood. there’s some drivel about surrendering and eärendil and all wrongs being forgiven, but neither maglor nor elrond is paying attention to it

“Hey, do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Love and justice and valour and hope”

“I remember the sea of blood you drowned everything in for them”

elrond didn’t really have any formal schooling - nobody had the time - but he has managed to pick up a lot of stuff from the stories the people around them tell. that the fëanorians came to middle-earth for high noble ideals, and that it was trying to fulfil those ideals that led them into darkness, is something maglor told him once, when he was in a darkly honest mood

“Haha, that’s just details, everybody makes that kind of mistake when they’re young”

“Why are you like this?”

a mood maglor’s obviously not in at the moment, if he’s laughing off the kinslayings like this; elrond knows this isn’t how he actually feels about them. normally elrond would just roll his eyes and move on with his life, but things are different today

The camp was full of laughter, as if everyone had lost their minds

elrond’s not used to happiness. not full, unironic happiness, untainted by the shadow of their inevitable death, not from the fëanorians. the sheer jubliation suffusing camp is fundamentally alien to him, a child of a world about to end. he doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that maybe they won’t all get eaten by dragons. he doesn’t know what to do with the hope in everyone’s eyes

so instead, when maglor wanders away from the party, elrond catches him with a song

“What if for one more year, ten more years, a hundred more years, the shadow still reigns?”

“Then ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years, a million years later, we’ll see it fall! For certain”

“What if I lay out all one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight of the fears I carry?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine songs I can give to you”

maglor’s been teaching elrond how to do this, how to snatch someone into a world of music and throw your voice at them until one of you can’t take it any more. maglor wins this one, as usual; even if his song is incapable of anything but violence he’s got centuries of experience on elrond, enough to turn the sharp edges of his voice into blades in elrond’s hands. and that is what he’s doing, clumsy and harsh as he is; he’s trying to give elrond a reason to hope

elrond is the one who breaks the spell, dropping the melody, letting the music dissolve into the air. maglor flashes him a grin and walks off, humming merrily. elrond just stands there, still unable to understand

I’ve heard it before, it’s all anyone can talk about, even if I try to avoid it it stabs into my ears

cut past a decade or so, to well into the war of wrath. elrond and elros are in their mid-teens now. they’re still with the fëanorians, but these days the fëanorian warband is effectively an auxiliary unit to the amanyar army, skirting around the edges of that much larger force. for the first time in a long while, elrond and elros have regular-ish contact with people outside the fëanorian sphere of influence, mostly peripheral edain and the sindar who run messages between the camps. it’s different, talking to new people

(the sky is still covered with smog, but it’s gloomy grey, not oppressive black. the sun is faintly visible through it, most of the time. the rain is much less poisonous than it used to be, and on good nights you can almost see the moon. the closer they get to angband, the darker the clouds grow)

“It is as the gods have decreed, soon the darkness will be swept away and the Enemy will be cast down

And after the war in the purified world, we will all live happily together

Building new homes in a land unmarred by evil”

the people outside the host are much more optimistic about the future, for one. the fëanorian minions are happy morgoth is getting trounced but they don’t really talk about what comes after that, like they can’t imagine a world without war. the sindar, and especially the edain, on the other hand, have all these plans about the cities they’ll build, the arts they’ll perfect, the children they’ll raise in a world without danger. elros is super into this; he barely spends time with the fëanorians any more, he’s so busy going between different edain camps, making friends, planning for the future. elrond, though...

Even my twin knows what future to reach out for...

elrond doesn’t know what to do with any of this. the very concept that someday the war will end and the sky will clear and he’ll have a bright future is still something he doesn’t fully understand. even more, he’s defined himself for so long as not-a-fëanorian, now he’s regularly interacting with people who doubtlessly aren’t he’s having trouble figuring out what else he is. he’s stuck between people who are lowkey hoping they’ll die gloriously in battle and people who have been dreaming about what they’d do in a world without darkness all their lives, and he doesn’t know what he even wants, not really, not yet

so he keeps on living, just like he always has. he’s been promoted to sick tent dogsbody and is learning how to heal with song from the last minion who can kind of still do it. he acts as a proxy between the fëanorians and the more timid outsiders they keep running into. when he goes (or elros drags him) exploring in other camps, he keeps track of every new detail he comes across, in case it’s somehow useful later

and he keeps talking to maglor, with anger and spite and sarcasm and whatever other emotion he’s covering his uncertainties with today. maglor always listens, usually offers to help, and sometimes elrond even lets him. the fëanorian camp settles into a rhythm of buildup-fight-recovery-buildup-fight-recovery, so regular it lulls elrond into complacency. he takes the future he still doesn’t quite believe in one day at a time, until suddenly the ground crumbles beneath his feet

You say it’s to ‘fulfill our ideals’ but what you mean by that is ‘to sate our bloodlust’, I know

With their blades and teeth sharpened for battle, the kinslayers broke away from the light and disappeared into the shadows

there’s a whole mountain of reasons why, as they draw near to angband, the dregs of the fëanorian host abruptly peel off from the valinorean army and vanish into the night. they know they're more effective as a stealthy shock ambush unit, they’re somewhat concerned the amanyar will turn on them the second morgoth is no longer a problem, they're making one last desperate rush for the silmarils, all that and more. it’s not the first time they’ve suddenly packed up and left before their enemies can react, probably not even the first time they’ve done it to the hosts of valinor. there’s just one little difference

Leaving us behind? Leaving you behind

they’re not taking the twins. said twins only find out about this, like, the day before they decamp. maedhros’ justification is something about them not being able to support noncombatants on the march, but the twins believe that about as much as they believe that the fëanorians are doing this for any kind of hope. elros, of course, was half-planning on leaving anyway, going off to chase his own ambitions with his new edain posse. he copes with it pretty well, relatively

but elrond’s mind goes blank. once he thought the day they let them go would be the best day of his life, but now it’s come it feels so wrong, and this horrible coldness is seeping into him. in a flash of what feels like foresight, he suddenly knows the people who raised him will never come back. how dare - why - he can’t -

with a sharp desperate burst of sound that’s a surprise to even himself, elrond lashes out a song to catch maglor

“For ten more minutes, one more week, half a year, please, let me stay with you!”

“In a year’s time, ten years’ time, a hundred years’ time, we’ll see the starlit sky together”

“What if one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight times I begged you not to go?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine of your other wishes I’ll hear”

and elrond just stops. he lets the song trail off, staring at maglor. he’s in an incredibly weird mood, with something that could almost be compassion in his eyes

there’s only one way he can find out what’s happening, elrond realises

“In that case - !”

maglor was never really demonstratively affectionate with the twins. it would never have come off as real on his part, and they wouldn’t have believed it in any case. still, he supported them. he let them trail behind them, all but cling to the backs of his legs, in those first horrible weeks when they were terrified of absolutely everything. he taught them to ride and he taught them to read, how to reinforce a blade with nothing but song and close a wound with needle and thread. on the darkest nights, when all the world was filled by the howling beasts of morgoth and the wailing of the unhallowed dead, he held them tight and flared his own fires high, a warm smoky bonfire between them and the void. he answered their questions, and told them stories

and sometimes, he tried to be kind

“Sing me a lullaby like the flat of a blade”

“Which one would you like?”

“I want to see a flower that will still bloom”

“I know just the one”

“I don’t care what kind of monster you are! Just please stay with me, for even one more tomorrow...”

“...I’m sorry”

“What do you mean?”

“You were given your name because your parents wanted you to see the stars someday”

it was easy for maglor to justify keeping the twins when they didn’t have a future. the shadow of death blotted out the sky, so why not hold them close for whatever little time they had left? no matter where they were, the void would soon claim them all

except it didn’t. in the end they were not forsaken. the sacred light came out of the west to burn away the darkness and finish the war he once thought they could never win. the hosts of the valar have gotten farther in decades than the noldor did in centuries, and soon enough they’ll cast the enemy down and release the world from his terrible maw. and then the future the free peoples dreamed of will stretch out before them, full of possibilities beyond measure

and that’s why maglor has to let them go. the magnificent people that elrond and elros are already becoming will only wither among hopeless kinslayers who have nothing left but the sword. to flourish into their full glorious selves, they need to be with people who dream, who can travel towards the future alongside the twins with light hearts and songs on their lips. maglor refuses to let his own darkness drown the last people in the world he does not hate. elrond deserves so, so much better than maglor is capable of giving him. he deserves to see the stars

hearing all that, there’s only one thing elrond can say

“You can’t even keep one miserable promise! Don’t pretend like you’re my father, kinslayer!”

and that’s the last elrond sees of maglor. the fëanorians vanish in the middle of the night, leaving elrond and elros (and about half a dozen minions who are taking their last possible chance to get out) behind. elros takes up with his edain buddies and starts making contacts and forging alliances. elrond winds up in gil-galad’s orbit, surrounded by people who are very understanding about how awful his childhood was, which just pisses him off more. he doesn’t throw tantrums or refuse to work, those aren’t luxuries he was raised with, but he spends a fair bit of time spurning every bit of sympathy and aid he’s offered and trying not to cry himself to sleep

with time, though, he finds a place. it starts with círdan, the first person who believes elrond about what his time with the fëanorians was like. then he befriends erestor, and then gil-galad starts actually respecting the way elrond feels, and then he gets officially taken on as an apprentice healer. he starts learning about his own ancestors and their peoples, and reaching out for stories he never knew could be his. as the final battle of the iron hells begins, elrond is doing... better

and soon, the hope that no one in beleriand once dreamed would be fulfilled becomes a reality

And then, as if it had never held power, the darkness was cast down...

they win the war. the armies of angband are crushed. the peaks of thangorodrim are torn down. the prisoners of the deepest pits of the iron hells are freed. the forces of evil are scattered to the four winds. morgoth, the fallen vala himself, is defeated and captured and bound with great chains, unable to ever hurt anyone again. the precious remnants of the light of the trees, the remaining two silmarils, are recovered. the dark clouds evaporate, and for the first time elrond can remember, the sky is perfectly clear. the war of the jewels is finally over

elrond has grown so much since the day he first heard that the hosts of the west had come. he still can’t quite believe it

They held a great celebration beneath a star-speckled sky I’d never seen before

“The world is saved and we are freed! Evil has been vanquished forevermore”

The triumphant voices of the generals poured out over the victory feast while the stars shone true above the happy ending

the soldiers of valinor and the people of beleriand (what’s left of them) throw a truly massive party. it’s still tinged with their grief over everything they’ve lost, but the atmosphere is primarily one of ecstatic relief. they’re alive, and they’ve come out the other side. dwarvish tailors dance with high maiar, humans who don’t remember the moon get drunk with elves who remember cuiviénen. even after the official festivities die down and people start hashing out what they want to do next, the general mood remains buoyant and cheerful. at long last, they live in a world without danger

none of it feels real to elrond. gil-galad’s talking about building a kingdom on the other side of the blue mountains, elros and his grand edain alliance are trying to bully the maiar into letting them set up on tol eressëa, and elrond feels so disconnected from it all, like he’s watching someone else’s life. he’s happy the enemy has been overcome, of course he is, but he’s not feeling the overwhelming joy everyone else is. he can’t let his guard down yet, something is still wrong -

Except he hasn’t come back, they haven’t come back, where did they go, what have they done?

The word raced around as fast as the wind, giving me an answer I never wanted to hear -

where is maglor? the fëanorians broke off to fight the war their own way, but the war is over now, where are they? they were so happy to hear that the amanyar had arrived, he can’t imagine them not thrilled to see the enemy they hated more than anything else fall. in the warm afterglow of victory, it feels like even their sins might be forgiven, and they could finally go home. they have nothing else left; why wouldn’t they take that outstretched hand?

but nobody’s so much as glimpsed their flag since some time before the final battle. elrond quietly assumes, perhaps even hopes, that they all died fighting, and yet he can’t shake the cold dread crawling up his spine

elrond has mixed feelings about the silmarils, and doesn’t particularly care to be near them. by the time the news of their theft reaches him, maedhros and maglor have already fled into the night

Still driven on by their oath, they turned their blades on their kin one last time

“And stole away the hallowed light”

Yes, that light which sank all of our lands beneath a deep dark layer of corpses and ash

all elrond sees is the aftermath, the blood sinking into the ground. it’s far from the first time he’s seen people killed, but somehow now it’s all hitting him, all at once. he sees the bodies and it knocks the breath out of him. all he can see is the dead, from finwë on down, the rotting carcasses of every last person who was slaughtered for these gems, a whole continent bleached with death. they call the silmarils the most beautiful things in the world, jewels shining with the very light of creation, but elrond can’t see it for the blood they’re dripping with

that’s the immediate thing that has his hands shaking and his breath running cold. by morning it’s had a chance to sink in a little, and -

He lied he lied he lied he lied

maglor regretted the kinslayings! elrond knows he did! it was never even something he actually said, it was obvious from the way he talked about them. every single one was a complete disaster, nothing the fëanorians ever got out of them was worth what they lost in the process, and afterwards things always got worse in ways they never expected. and maglor hated the person the kinslayings had turned him into, elrond spent enough time around him to pick up on that much! surely he’d do anything to not have to commit another one?

apparently not! apparently all that regret, all that loss, the arguments and the nightmares and the coldly determined efforts to stop them following his path, it all meant nothing! he still gave in to despair or maedhros or whatever, killed yet more people, stole from the army whose return he said was like a dream come to life, spat in the face of his last chance to go home, and vanished! gil-galad’s people were right! he really is nothing more than a monster!

the shock of it all makes something snap in elrond, whatever fragile optimism he absorbed from the people around him draining away until he feels completely hollow. hundreds of years of suffering and death, and for what?

Smeared with the blood of untold hundreds, untold thousands, untold millions of people

Did they buy us peace for even half a year, even a week, even ten minutes?

Noooooooo!

Even the very land we lived on crumbled and drowned

What was the point?! What was the point?! What was the point?!

I feel like I’m going insaaaaaaane

morgoth may have fallen, but beleriand is dead! nothing remains, not the lush green lands of the stories, or even the dessicated forests of his childhood, just desolate earth and the devouring sea. almost everywhere he’s ever known, almost everyone who lived and fought and dreamed there, are lost forever. nothing was saved, everything was destroyed, what good is a clear blue sky when there’s nothing beneath it?! how can they call this a happy ending?!

elrond can’t see any light here, all the great battles and heroic deeds seem absolutely pointless in the face of everyone and everything immolated in the endless grasping for these gems. the hosts of valinor leave the continent they shattered, the remnants of gil-galad’s people escape the raging forces of nature, and the survivors bicker and fight over resources just like the fëanorian minions elrond grew up around. the world is never going to get better, he realises. the dream of a paradise will never come true

and then one night, running a message down the craggy still-turbulent coastline, he hears a snatch of a distant, familiar voice

I can hear a voice whittled away to a weapon singing what could almost be a lullaby -

elrond leaps off the ridge and onto the rocky beach, scrambling over the uneven ground. he’s heard the rumours about where maedhros and/or maglor went - all of them, there’s dozens of them, he didn’t pay any particular heed to the ones where maglor wandered the coast, but if they were right, if he’s here -

his own voice has grown strong over the years, solid and forceful and mature. elrond screams his song into the emptiness, hoping against hope it will be heard

“What if for one more year, ten more years, a hundred more years, the shadow still reigns?”

“Then ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years, a million years later, we’ll see it fall! Isn’t that so?!”

“What if I lay out all one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight of the griefs I carry?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine days for you to live!”

“That must be it...”

the impression of a hand touching his cheek, the ghost of a smile. for a moment someone else’s voice slips into the ebb and flow of his song, a shadow reaches out to wipe the tears off his face. live, it whispers. you who i held dearest last, live

elrond’s breath catches in his throat, and the song, and the shadow, vanish. it’s just him on a forsaken beach, the only sounds the waves crashing and the gulls calling. the sky is completely overcast, the clouds dull and grey. he watches them drift along for a while, as his pulse slows down and his airways clear up. live, the word echoes in his mind

he waits until his breathing is back to normal and the churning emotions inside him have settled into a form he can handle. then he wipes his face and clambers back onto the ridge

(life. it’s not much, but it’s enough. it has to be. his home is destroyed, but he is alive; his family is broken, but he is alive. he is alive, and they want him to live, as much as he can while he still has a chance. the world he lives in will never be perfect, but he knows how to work with that)

(and besides - elros, círdan, gil-galad, erestor, the other healers, the small knot of elves of all stripes who seem determined to follow his banner. he hasn’t lost everything, not yet, and he won’t let the world take away what he has left. he’ll never abandon those he loves)

the clouds are lightening. soon the stars will be out. elrond takes a deep breath, and starts running towards his future and the person he’s going to be -

thousands of years later, a memory resurfaces

“Two million, two hundred and forty-one thousand, five hundred and thirty-nine days... Ah, yes. I know I forgot to say it earlier, but you did a very good job”

a smattering of notes are lifted by the ocean breeze. they travel inland, across the worn-down mountains, around the weathered hills, above the tangled forests, up the untamed rivers, and finally into the hidden valley

in the gardens of imladris, lord elrond hears a voice he hasn’t for millennia. a watering can slips out of his hands, and suddenly he can’t breathe

It was just another day, beneath a dark sky

The ocean and the wind roared on all around me

I wasn’t paying attention to how my tears were falling

Trying to remember a clear star-lit sky

that youthful dream of a world free from evil never came true. the shadow came back, and it kept coming back, taking his people, his friends, his family, his wife. everything they built after the defeat of morgoth has been reduced to dust by the weight of time, and every year more of it slips through his fingers. elrond doesn’t know how much more of it he can endure. he doesn’t know how much more he can lose

he chases that scrap of music all the way to the seashore

I ran down the path between the rocks and the spray following that voice I never knew why I loved

But in the end I could only stand weeping

elrond searches up and down the coast, scouring the shoreline for clues, asking the locals, listening. sometimes he hears whispers of song, long wailing lamentations that make his heart ache all the more now that he understands how that despair feels. occasionally it’s loud or consistent enough he can track it, trying to pinpoint the singer’s location in the intense storms of bitterness and grief

but he never finds anything

“You fool, he’s already gone. Like he was never there at all...”

all that’s left is a voice on the wind

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steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

S5 Ep12: Brand New Mokuba Just Dropped

My tumblr has decided that it can’t save drafts again. Which sure is a problem I keep having but no one else seems to have...but were back. Back and ready to talk about cards.

First off, lets address the best thing about this episode, it’s the return of The A Team animation team! Dunno if it’s the same ones that did the seasons before, but it is a pretty good team this episode, so there’s lots of that to look forward to. Everyone is now 2 feet taller (Kaiba is 4 feet taller) and there’s just some really nice shots going on. It’s not as shiny as other seasons, which makes me think it might be a different team or a different studio using a different method (you don’t really see them playing with line weights anymore which makes it seem like a different method to me) but still--it’s a nicer looking episode today.

So we start off this episode with Seto begging us all to forget the hell that just happened and just get on with it. Of course, no one’s gonna do that, because yo, what just happened was kind of weird.

And because there’s only like...I dunno...maybe 2 episodes left in this arc? (kind of a quick arc, honestly) Leon decides to do a complete personality reversal. Although, it’s really hard to do a reversal when you didn’t have a personality in the first place...so I guess this more Leon showing us A personality--and I’ll take it.

He’s a little jackass now, but it’s youknow...still Leon so it’s not really that bad. Like we deal with Seto on the reg, so I feel like Leon as a jackass is just like...well that’s just how you play cards in this universe.

Everyone speculates whether or not Seto actually did a crime, and a SURPRISING number of them said he did not! Weird! But hey...I’ve gone over a billion times before, their memory is like when you throw popcorn into the ocean--it just fffzt’s and then it’s gone.

Roland was THIS close to actually saving Kaiba corp a huge hassle for once. This Close, Roland. You almost did it.

(read more under the cut)

I love that Roland has decided to give all these teens maybe the uncoolest nicknames in the entire world, and the teens have not made any indication whether they do or do not appreciate their alliteration nicknames.

But despite the fact that although Roland uses these opportunities behind the microphone to embarrass them just SO MUCH, the Kaibas still persist in having him introduce most of the matches. It makes it feel like the Kaibas freakin love this. They love his Dad jokes. I cannot tell if they are like “yes, please embarrass my friends.” of it they’re like “yes. Roland that was so cool. Yeah Leaping Leon. Good one! You’re so cool!” Because they don’t know what fun is.

Also, look what I see in the sky.

Truly a sign that they have overcome their trauma of seasons 2-3.

Or maybe they had a lot of blimps laying around and this is a completely unrelated blimp? Either way, I’m glad they can still handle the sight of a blimp.

And then, just out of nowhere, Mokuba hit puberty.

Which I mean, it was inevitable. It was going to happen some day. Luckily, we will be getting a new Mokuba this episode to make up for the fact that this one has done A Flirt and it was probably a completely innocent turn of phrase he has no idea is a double entendre but do the writers know that?

And while we ruminate the decisions there, lets bask in the glory of purple staircase.

This is such a purple staircase!

On another, identical staircase walks Leon, who gets to have a discussion with Zigfried, who probably just stood next to the wall and just chameleon’ed in here without getting caught cuz coincidentally this staircase dresses like him.

Freakin Mai?

Anyway, lets start this duel where like...I dunno, it’s a little late to start stealing souls, but maybe Leon will do a stab? (He will not)

So glad the storyboarder is back to kind of flex. I don’t normally see Roland drawn with this much attention. Look at him go. That’s the stance a grown man takes when he’s ready to embarrass a bunch of teens.

Kaiba writes a speech introducing himself, or Roland just kinda made up a speech as if Kaiba hadn’t asked him to do that. Either way it’s kind of a big way to talk yourself up--but he is trying to talk up the theme park so people will actually like...go. So it makes sense.

Also what is this nonsense where people worldwide are watching a theme park opening match? Card culture is so weird because we’ve noticed in other seasons there are people that don’t play cards, and I feel like they’re not watching this for fun. It’s like when I watch news unfold--they’re watching to see if they have to raid the toilet paper aisle and the canned goods again to prepare for yet another onslaught of card nonsense.

Legit Mokuba was like “Look at my bro. Look at how he gave up dueling to throw this nice tourney for everyone!” and it’s like...Mokuba...he just dueled...Mokuba...he’s putting all the profits directly in your pockets this is hardly a martyr up here.

Seto Kaiba decided to inform the world that he would have won if he was actually playing and that was sure a statement he made after losing to Yugi like...3 times now? Several times.

Everyone else converses how Leon’s acting weird. I don’t know why they care all of a sudden, because no one acts normal playing this game, but the plot desires them to care.

Which is when we find out...

...the new Mokuba...

That’s right. He was a Mokuba the whole time. For once we haven’t abducted Mokuba, instead...we have too many Mokubas.

This Mokuba even has hella long hair, too. I imagine if Mokuba proper had a ponytail it would probably look just like this but black. It would have been just--so good if he whipped off that ribbon and shook out his hair and it fluffed into a horrible Mokuba mess, but you know, that’s one of the many reasons why I don’t write for this series. That and I was like in high School when this came out.

(Please admire Kaiba’s head of Security who looks like he’s about to drop a poop out of terror. It’s a really small detail, but I appreciate that the storyboarder had him kind of antsy in the background)

Seto insists that the only one to beat Yugi Muto will be himself and it’s like...I know. That’s why I keep expecting someone to get stabbed by this tiny purple haired Mokuba. But instead, Leon’s too busy feeling mad that he’s not necessarily playing the game for fun.

But he’s still playing the game though? so I feel like Yami doesn’t have many stones to throw here. Leon hasn’t even cheated yet. (As if Yami isn’t cheating basically all the time by being 2 people in one body)

I can’t BELIEVE this show would throw that at me after the number of times I have seen Yami Muto nearly murder other people (and sometimes literally do a murder) out of revenge. Yami is basically a revenge god...like...show...what? It’s season 5, I thought we’ve basically cemented this in. Occasionally the show will just be all “card games are supposed to be fun though!!!” and it’s like...these are the last children on Earth who are playing card games for fun.

If anything, it should be Leon lecturing them on how to have fun. They just murdered a Great Leviathan with cards. Before that they were dealing with Noah, with Marik, with Pegasus, with Bakura. The times that Yugi has just played a game for fun has been...This Arc.

So maybe Yami is just begging himself to have fun for once. Maybe he’s just mad that he can’t play a single tournament without someone getting possessed? Maybe his frustrations really aren’t about little Leaping Leon, and more to do with Yami sick and tired of being a protagonist.

But, youknow, it’s not an anime, unless the protagonist hypocritically can get away with every sin out there and everyone else gets punished for it. So lets find out just how far Leon fell from fun-having grace with a flashback.

This Belle cosplayer went off in like...one of the most hilariously bad accents I’ve heard in a while, it was just so much, I’ll probably cap it because lolol.

But since Leon wasn’t actually in line to inherit the company, he has to sort of hole up in his room for his entire childhood. It’s kinda weird, since we can’t assume that Zigfried will either a.) live forever or b.) have or adopt or raise children in any capacity. But they’re pretty sure Zigfried will live forever, and in this universe--maybe.

Also, I’m really not sure why they have to dress like it’s 1890, but they sure are. The Victorian era just never left the Von Schroeder house. Like these women are wearing corsets to be in that dress, and you can’t BUY a corset to match this type of dress, you have to make your own, and I know, because in Quarantine, I got really into historical sewing videos.

I can’t believe I spent an entire year watching historical sewing videos. Holy crap. I don’t even sew.

But then again...Seto is kind of drawn like he wears a corset...so maybe people are still wearing them in the Yugioh universe? Maybe that’s how their fashion just works?

Guys...I analyze Yugioh fashion a lot but the fact that the Edwardians never freakin left this worldly plane is just...that’s canon to Yugioh. I really just want to sit back and analyze Yugioh fashion with a moodboard and try to connect all the dots logically as if they aren’t just one-off jokes, but I don’t know how I’d fit that on this post.

And like, one of y’all brought up in a comment in the last post that what’s neat about this arc is we are seeing Zigfried as what Seto would have been like if he hadn’t like...gotten cursed by Yugi Muto. So, going off that idea, I think it’s kinda fun that Zigfried’s outfit is a bit of a younger take on Pegasus’ whole look with the wrist lace and a fusion of Gozaburos look of wearing a cravat with a smoking coat. It’s fun to imagine that this is what Seto’s inner gremlin dresses like (which...now I think about it...was a thing from S1 where Yami defeated a Seto gremlin but...I don't remember much about it) Of course, Seto would also be hella dead if he hadn’t gone through the Yugi cycle, but it’s still a fun road to think about.

Plus, when we go down that road, it really makes this arc look even more like it’s just about Seto Kaiba’s therapy sesh to recover from the last several seasons that he’s accidentally (or intentionally??) invited the entire world to watch and that’s very funny to me.

Bro has informed me you can make a deck out of Jerry but could not show me any receipts.

...I mean that is Dartz right?

Like I know all the characters have cards of themselves IRL and all the characters are also based on cards that were made before they were on TV (with the exception of our main cast that was...youknow, a horror manga) but like...

...what’s up, Dartz?

Anyway, our little Mokuba decides to sneak out the house and run around the world at the ripe ol age of ... what I’m guessing is like 10-12, and is pretty sure he can just get away with that. Luckily, the crimes he’s committing are exactly the type of crimes that Zigfried needs.

(Pretty sure their Dad died or is incapacitated but OK, dub, go ahead and pretend that plot point didn’t go down last episode.)

Also, I’m really glad we got a good storyboarder for this part who was like “Zigfried looks...like that?” and still managed to make this character design really work this episode. In some parts they even gave Zigfried those wide Marik Eyes that are kind of ubiquitous with Yugioh. It just needs the right hands to draw it, and then any amount of...this outfit...can work.

So, just like when we met Mokuba in S1, he’s gonna do a duel on Yugi to save his family and probably also like Mokuba, not give a damn for how this game is supposed to be played. Luckily, this time Pharaoh doesn’t have any star chips lying around for this kid to just run around and steal before booking it out the back gate.

Yugi over there with his twitter-brand hot-takes, not knowing the difference between actual brainwashing and blackmail/family pressure.

(WHY IS MAI HERE?)

Look at that hatching!

Ah this is the 00′s content I’m here for! Check out the soft brush! The dodge and burn! Ah! Man this sure was an era of computer art! and stuff like this cost a lot of money to make and it looked ... like this!

Now I’m pretty sure we can make art that looks this dated on like...a free phone app.

PS please do not ever shade your art like this. This is what you don’t do. Do not do this. I will shed a single tear shaped like the Photoshop symbols for dodge and burn.

Also...guys...

next episode is Ep 13. Every season so far this show has been like “we’re normal, everything is normal” getting us complacent until exactly Ep 13, when everything gets really effed up. So...

will that happen? Will they continue this tradition into S5 or has it been a coincidence until now? Excited to find out.

Anyway, if you just got here, this is the link to read these from the beginning in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#ygo #yugioh #yu gi oh #S5 #Ep12 #yugi muto #leon von schroeder #good because I forgot his other last name #zigfried von schroeder #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #roland #joey wheeler #tea gardner #the others who didn't say or do anything so I probably shouldn't tag them #Can't believe how quickly this arc is wrapping up

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shinriaaa · 3 years

Text

Venus

Chapter 1

Summary: As his world faced the near extinction event, Levi Ackerman was coincidentally contacted by his cosmic relative. Unbeknownst to him, they are both alone in the universe as Ackermans. Not going to be replicated just like the others in different worlds, but to disappear once they’ll... die.

p/s another unedited fic soooo yea, please leave out your comments below if u guys wanted to let me continue this!

—

He was sure that the universe is playing his fate all along as if the mysterious void of different celestial bodies is just another speck of reality embedded in humanity’s mind like a whirlwind of eternal misery. Just another mind fuckery, making their species insane and pretty much useless if the world just began and ends in a blink of an eye.

Taking a break from his head aching stupor, he stood up and poured another cup of tea, an Earl Grey, which is safely tucked in a drawer of his domain at the moment for the past 70 years. The owner might have left it there for his pleasure but died like everyone else that was left in the world at the moment.

Sitting back on the swivel chair of the office, his computer— no, supercomputer suddenly gave a message. There is an email, an email and his eyes widened like it’s the most surreal thing that has happened ever since he was born on Earth. Emails er are long gone, and it was replaced by those electronic texts and all of the sudden, another automatic message receiving device has been invented that you immediately receive it to your head via a chip implanted there.

Levi stifled a laugh, much to his chagrin, he grinned silently. He clicked the notification, but his eyes widened when he saw the sender.

Mikasa… Ackerman.

To be honest, he doesn’t know her. He had no relatives with that name, and even if he did somehow, probably she’s on another side of the planet because of her name, which sounds Japanese. But why all of the sudden? Is she even alive? But where?

All those questions suddenly made him shiver when he realized that the Japanese peninsula was obliterated a year ago and the survivors fled into space.

He slowly read the letter, his eyes not even blinking. He swore that it all baffled him, like the universe itself and the world around him.

——

Dear Levi,

Hello. I’m Mikasa Ackerman.

I came from another world… and upon searching among the worlds that may still harbor life, I saw your surname. As silly as it is, I am hoping for you to email me back since I am all alone in the universe. You know that… we are the only ones who existed in the whole universe, even parallel ones. We are singular, Levi. We have only one life among the stars, and we are not going to be copied like the rest of the world be.

I wanted to reach out to you… Please. We are on the brink of extinction right now. An Ackerman alone in the universe is a terrible thing, and if I’m gone, no one will be like me again. Also you… you will turn to dust like the others, except you will not be copied into another universe. There is a wormhole, and I sent this to you at the quickest speed of light. I am in another universe, a parallel universe like the millions around us.

Save me and be with me. Please live. I cannot lose you.

Sincerely yours, Mikasa

——

He stared at the screen, his emotions are now in a sudden haze of confusion and bewilderment. As if on cue to his shocking discovery, he staggered back on his chair and fell on the floor when an explosion probably a thousand miles away from where he was temporarily living is obviously… obliterated by the force and the sudden drop of temperature made him shiver.

Another Higgs, and he’ll surely kill himself rather than being blasted by that damned bomb. He stood up, luckily the supercomputer wasn’t harmed and the bright light emitted from it made his place illuminated in contrast to the world outside his makeshift abandoned facility from decades long gone.

80 years ago, wars broke out. The earth slowly turned into ruins, and millions and billions of people died. The people lost control, and some of them ventured away towards the stars. The humans left here in this damned planet are always higged, turned to ashes, just for the sake of destruction. The Sun warmed, too warm and it killed everything.

The year 2113 wasn’t getting better either, it was far worse. It was almost an extinction-level event, and he feared the worst. The planet could potentially be obliterated by the species it gave life with, only the said species became its demise.

Now, in his apocalyptic world, he was sitting on his swivel chair, now called vintage by his timeline, and stared at the email outrageously, and remembered a story about a certain girl who wanted him to respond from years long gone. Levi heaved out a sigh, and if there’s any way that could get him out of this fucked up planet, he’ll do it. Even if it has consequences, or he will be eaten by aliens or whatsoever that awaits him up there in the void, he will find a way.

It’s not like humans can’t still offer a ride up to space and go to another hospitable planet, but unluckily for him, he was not a millionaire or a billionaire in this world. He can’t afford a seat— hell, he can’t even come inside that fucking rocket without a cash payment to offer. Because surviving is a damn expensive venture he’ll get into, and even though he’ll rob a bank here and now, he will probably end up dying or find nothing there.

Humanity is long gone.

And he was still here, looking at his computer, like he was so lucky, so lucky in fact, to even be contacted by someone even though it’s from another world or anything in this matter. As long as someone is still worried about his well-being.

Finally, after he pondered for a moment, he clicked the email button, well, a reply would suffice. His fingers hovered the keyboard, and it was so foreign for him to act like this— even to the world as living in at the moment, that he sent a message through a keyboard and a fucking computer at that.

He typed and typed, leaving out the details and he sighed. There is no turning back… he will just wait and see if there is a possibility that he will be free.

——

Dear Mikasa,

Hello… Yes, I’m Levi.

I’ve received your email. Please count the hours since you sent it so that we can properly talk through this… old type of sending messages. I am unlucky living on this Earth, probably too far away to reach you. If you need my help, it is probably too late. We are getting obliterated right now, and there’s more to come.

Mikasa, how can I save you when I couldn’t save myself from this fucked up world? Tell me how and I’ll gladly do it. Thank you for reaching out, even though you don’t need to.

By the way… are you safe? Because I’m fucking obviously not.

Yours, Levi Ackerman

——

Sending it… he slumped back on his not-so-comfortable swivel chair as the loading continued. But after a few seconds, he saw the ‘sent!’ notification and a small smile lit up his lips. By the thoughts of it, he hoped that it may reach her somehow… if not too late. Extinction, like his world, is probably common among the worlds that have a common ground— parallel. The multiverse is a common concept, and not like it was originally taken kindly, some people still doubt it until now. Levi thought if she was from another universe that is parallel to him, or maybe… if it is parallel to his world, she would probably be in front of a computer talking to him at the end of the world.

Sighing, he closed his eyes as the smell of apocalypse lingered around him. It smells filthy, deranged and he hates it. Loathes it, in fact.

Freedom… did it even exist? He wondered as he saw another thunder and a blast from up above, silently praying that there are no casualties in that land to become one of the dead.

But pondering what Mikasa said, they are luckily replicated to the other parallel universes. Maybe the people here are living there peacefully without the Higgs, and maybe they die but luckily be buried underneath the Earth.

But not him.

He never felt so alone until her email. If the universe is playing his fate, they sure want him to suffer.

—

It was a few minutes after he took a nap and a message suddenly came into his bright supercomputer, like it was a fire ignited from the wood. He looked up, seemingly deluded by the fact, that someone was communicating with him. Like it was not just a dream or trickery from his mind throughout this madness.

It was all true.

Mikasa is still alive, somewhere… but still alive.

Slowly clicking the email while his eyes glued to the screen, he finally read her reply. Bit by bit, slowly… like he can finally see the light.

——

Dear Levi,

Thank the Gods you’re alive!

To answer your request, I received your email after a few minutes when I sent my email to you. I think you quickly answered it, right? Also… I’m safe. I’m in a spaceship at the moment, but as you can see, humanity in this universe is on a brink of extinction. We are nearing the wormhole, in case you’re wondering why I can quickly send the message. Apparently…

We’re probably coming to your universe.

I doubt it… but I saw the map and it was headed towards your universe when I first searched your name, it has an address, and I knew, we’re going there. Levi, I can save you. I’ll save you if I can, I’ll control the spaceship since everyone is asleep…

Find a way to get into a rocketship. And I’ll meet you at your world’s moon base (if there’s any) and I’ll get you.

Sincerely yours, Mikasa

——

Levi inwardly smirked, as an idea sparked in his mind. Speaking of moon bases, he has a friend in NASA, still here at the Earth as of this moment. The flight towards the moon base will happen this afternoon… if he can see exactly the sun in the dark skies that indicates it was still morning.

He replied to her email, grabbed some supplies for his venture outside towards the 15-minute walk towards NASA's main building, and locked the door.

It was not a luxury seat on a starship ride, but the Moon is the door to his freedom.

——

Dear Mikasa,

Thank you. I think I found a way. I’ll meet you up. Though the ride will take place after three days, two and a half days is the minimum time of travel. Perhaps you can meet me after four to five days if possible.

Please be safe. And thank you for saving me. Email me up, and I’ll answer you later since I’ll be going on an errand.

Yours, Levi

——

Chapter Two

A/N Please let me know in the comments below about your thoughts! don’t be shy to leave a note, hehehehehe ily! ✨

#rivamika #snk #fanfiction #levi ackerman #mikasa ackerman #snk levi #snk mikasa #levi #mikasa #venus #sci-fi #apocalypse #au

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ingek73 · 3 years

Text

Fairytales for fuckwits: Meghan, a children's book, and the school bully tactics of the British tabloids...

Piers Morgan's obsession with Meghan Markle continues, while Mike Graham appears worried there may be too many big words for him to understand.

Mic Wright

May 6

On May the 4th, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of tabloid reporters and talk radio pundits cried out at once: The Duchess of Sussex had announced she was writing a children’s book.

Since the earth-shattering news that Meghan has written a story about the relationship between father’s and their sons — apparently based on a poem she wrote for Prince Harry — the tabloid press and talk radio stations have gone into meltdown.

The Sun has managed to crank out seven hysterically-pitched stories on the announcement since it dropped — the book isn’t out until June 8th — with each more unhinged than the last:

MEG TO PAPER Meghan Markle writes children’s book inspired by Prince Harry and baby Archie about ‘bond between father and son’

MEG-A MOVE Meghan Markle’s first priority should be mending broken relationships with royals not writing kids’ book, expert claims

SOUNDS A BIT WOODEN ‘Schmaltzy’ Meghan Markle ‘on dodgy ground’ with kids’ book celebrating fathers ‘after own bust-up with dad’ says author

DOUBLE DUCH Meghan Markle accused of copying her kids’ book The Bench from another story – but author defends her

NOT WRITE Piers Morgan slams ‘hypocrite’ Meghan Markle for kids’ book on ‘father-son bond’ after ‘ruining Harry and Charles’ ties’

'RIDICULOUS' Meghan Markle using Duchess of Sussex as author name ‘laughable’ after she wanted to cut Royal ties, says royal expert

CUT PRICE Meghan Markle’s kids’ book has price slashed already at Amazon and Waterstones

You’ll notice that Piers Morgan — a man who has turned one drink with Meghan after which he claims she “ghosted him”, which took place in 2016, into a five year and counting obsession — gets his own story there. That’s The Sun filleting Morgan’s spittle-flecked Daily Mail column on the book for its own news piece.

Morgan, who trails his columns on Twitter like they are exciting new releases rather than the tabloid equivalent of a letter scrawled in faeces forced through your letterbox, dashed out his thoughts on The Bench with the indecent haste of a man running along while his trousers fall down.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @BreeNewsome

DEFUND & ABOLISH POLICE, REFUND OUR COMMUNITIES

@BreeNewsome

Piers Morgan’s obsession with Meghan Markle is genuinely disturbing. He’s really just using the guise of journalism to be a public stalker and harasser.

May 5th 2021

1,414 Retweets10,252 Likes”

Beneath a typically screaming Mail headline — How the hell can Meghan 'I hate royalty but call me Duchess' Markle preach about father-child relationships when she's disowned her own Dad, and wrecked her husband's relationship with his? — Morgan howled:

… she continues to cynically exploit her royal titles because she knows that's the only reason anyone is paying her vast sums of money to spew her uniquely unctuous brand of pious hectoring gibberish in Netflix documentaries, Spotify podcasts or children's books.

Of course, her equally cynical publishers don't give a damn about any of this shocking double standard.

Forget the fact that Meghan had a good degree of personal fame before she ever met Prince Harry, Piers Morgan accusing anyone else of being a cynical fame chaser is beyond parody. From his earliest days as a gossip hack, Morgan has muscled into pictures with the rich and famous, desperate to be someone.

When Meghan was willing to indulge him, he showered her with praise, but once she stopped taking his calls, he turned into the Tinder match from hell. That he has been married to his second wife, fellow controversialist columnist Celia Walden since 2010 seemingly did nothing to dampen his obsession.

Having repeatedly interviewed Meghan’s estranged father Thomas Markle — another man aggrieved because a woman would rather not spend time with him — Morgan sneers:

If she really cared about father-child relationships, she'd take a chauffeur-driven limousine on the hour-long trip to see her own father who's never even met either Harry or Archie.

It’s projection again: Piers Morgan’s ego is so egg-shell thin that after Meghan decided that one drink was more than enough, he’s spent 5 years seeking revenge and convinced that he’s been wronged, just like her ‘poor old dad’. That’s the ‘poor old dad’ that insists on talking about his daughter to journalists at every possible occasion.

At the end of an article that implies Harry and Meghan contributed to the death of Prince Philip — he died of natural causes — and rants on about “the woke”, Morgan ends with this:

But then as we've seen from her gruesomely self-interested behaviour during a pandemic that's caused so much devastation and pain to billions around the world, Meghan Markle doesn't really care about anyone but herself.

Remember, the Duchess of Sussex’s only ‘crime’ here is to write a children’s book which people will be free to buy or ignore with equal ease. But, as ever, Piers Morgan treats the news with all the proportionality of a US drone strike.

The real story here is about how Morgan — the bittiest of bit-part players in the narrative of Meghan and Harry’s lives — is so desperate to upgrade his place in the cast list that he will rant and rave to stay relevant. His departure from Good Morning Britain came after his last stream of invective about Meghan and he knows this schtick gets him the attention and money he craves.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @MariaLRoach

Maria Roach

@MariaLRoach

Meghan Markle inside the tiny space called Piers Morgan’s head. #duchessofsussex Tap Dance GIF by Miss America

May 5th 2021

122 Retweets1,619 Likes”

Aside from Morgan’s column, MailOnline has published 9 other news stories on or related to the book announcement. The most telling of them is one that links the Duchess of Sussex’s book to another one… by the Duchess of Cambridge.

Headlined Bookshelf battle royale! Kate Middleton shares a glimpse inside her Hold Still photobook just a day after Meghan Markle unveiled her own £12.99 children's story, the story unsurprisingly treats Kate with kid gloves while continuing to imply that Meghan is the kind of person who would make gloves out of kids if it suited her devilish schemes.

There’s no shade thrown at the Duchess of Cambridge for revealing further details of her book just hours after Meghan’s announcement. Instead, the story — lavishly illustrated with images from the book — gushes:

The Duchess of Cambridge has shared a glimpse of her photography book Hold Still ahead of its release on Friday…

… Kate, 39, a keen photographer, launched a campaign during the first lockdown last year to ask the public to submit images which captured the period.

It even includes a mention of an image of a BLM protestor saying:

Over the course of the project, the Duchess shared a number of her favourite images on the Kensington Royal Instagram page, including a Black Lives Matter protester holding a sign reading: 'Be on the right side of history.'

If Meghan had done the same she would have been decried for “supporting extremists”. Remember the contrasting way their mutual taste for avocado was covered?

15 Headlines Show How Differently The British Press Treat Meghan Markle Vs Kate Middleton | Bored Panda

Over at The Daily Telegraph, Spiked alumna Ella Whelan offered her thoughts on a book that isn’t released until next month under the headline Meghan Markle’s fun-free children’s book may put an entire generation off reading, which makes it sound like a grimoire full of dark magic rather than a gentle children’s book about kids and their dads.

Just as with the Mail’s story on Kate’s book, it’s worth imagining what Whelan would say if the Duchess of Cambridge had written The Bench. Look at the following section…

It reveals something of the political superficiality of Harry and Meghan’s activism that an “inclusive” book would use the military father as its promotional message. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but if my kids have to read about soldiers, I’d prefer Hans Christian Andersen’s tin version rather than the woke posturing of a former royal.

… and notice that because Meghan is the author including a father who is in the military is “political superficiality”. If Kate had written a story that featured an analogue for Prince William — who also spent time in uniform, though in less dangerous circumstances than his ‘spare’ brother — Whelan would likely deem it a ‘touching tribute to their love’.

Similarly, Sarah Ferguson — the ex-wife of Prince Andrew, top Yelp! reviewer for Jeffrey Epstein’s houses and noted avoider of FBI questioning — uses the title Duchess of York on her many execrable children’s books.

Now that Meghan is the tabloid’s new monster in the monarchy, Fergie’s antics are pointed to as a positive with her books flattered even as Meghan’s as-yet-unpublished book is panned.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @talkRADIO

talkRADIO

@talkRADIO

Meghan Markle is releasing a new children's book about father-son relationships.

Mike Graham: "It's so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she's still in high school... it's not exactly Tennyson, is it?

@mrmarkdolan | @Iromg Image

May 5th 2021

36 Retweets221 Likes”

Over on talkRADIO, Mike Graham — a melting mass of expired meat — ranted about a children’s book, worried perhaps that it will contain too many long words. Speaking to his colleague, Mark Dolan — Dennis Pennis without the charm — Graham crowed:

It’s so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she’s still in high school… I don’t have anything against her for any particular reason, other than she’s a bit too American, you know. She thinks everything is just great and cheesy. Rhyming the words ‘joy’ and ‘boy’. It’s not exactly Tennyson, is it?

Ah yes, that famous children’s author, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, known for such devastating rhymes as this one from The Lady of Shallot: “She left the web/ She left the loom/ She made three paces through the room.”

I’m not saying The Lady of Shalott is rubbish — though I do still hold a grudge against Tennyson after some very tedious teaching in high school — but that focusing on one rhyme in a poem is an easy trick if you want to say its shit. That Graham cannot see the irony in decrying writing a children’s book as “juvenile” is just one of the reasons he’s employed by a station with less than 1% reach.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @NadimJBaba

Nadim Baba

@NadimJBaba

Piers Morgan ranting about the one who got away in 5, 4, 3.......

Media Guardian @mediaguardian

Meghan wins copyright claim against Mail on Sunday over letter https://t.co/cJZTgDMvgz

May 5th 2021

1 Like”

There’ll be a new round of these columns, stories, and talk radio segments when the book is released, particularly as The Mail on Sunday just lost the second part of Meghan’s copyright claim against it.

There’s nothing that either Meghan or Harry could do that wouldn’t drive these rats in a sack rabid. If they did nothing, they’d be called lazy. When they make things, take jobs, or really say anything the very media that benefits hugely from stories about them scream that it’s a cry for attention. And yet Piers Morgan regularly pissing himself in public is “commentary”.

#meghan markle #prince harry #duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #piers morgan #brokenbottleboy #toxic tabloids #uk press

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flying-elliska · 3 years

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so, I finished the magnus archives ...(spoilers)

unfortunately i'd been spoiled for most of what happened in it but it was still cool to listen to especially since the audio work on it was incredible (those haunted tape noises are the coolest thing i've ever heard on a podcast, it was so slick)

it worked for me on the level of the emotional reaction. it was very sad and poignant. i often find horror stories difficult because either the characters are assholes and then i don't care and the whole thing becomes pointless for me or i get too attached to the characters and then I'm devastated when bad things happen to them and this was definitely the former. I really wish these characters existed in a spooky paranormal fantasy/workplace comedy-drama where they could get the comfort and overwinnings they deserved, but alas. i get they were bound by the genre though and that bad things needed to happen. i think they did a good job of balancing the horror and tragedy and not making it too grim at the same time.

it didn't blow me away either tbh, like for instance the s4 ending did. but i think after all the insane levels of world-building up they did, it was bound to be a bit underwhelming, with some arcs and characters left underused (Agnes!!!!). it misses a bit of a wow factor i had at other times in the series. the thing with horror is that there is only so far you can push character growth before it becomes too optimistic, and so when you go really deep into a character arc that's not strictly a corruption, it can often feel frustrating and unfinished in terms of emotional payoff.

I have mixed feelings about s5 as a whole. It's really cool that they experimented with something new, the concept of the fearscape is fascinating, and some of the statements are among my favorites in the whole show (the Sick Village, Recollections, the Gardener, Wonderland, the Processing Line, Moving on...) and really bring the cosmic horror/metaphor for the horrors of capitalism/ableism/abuse/etc in a way that feels strangely cathartic and understanding and glorious - but a lot of the others, especially in act 2/3, felt very forgettable and repetitive, and less like stories that could stand on their own, which i loved about the more traditional statements. Once it becomes clear that Jon (and Martin as a consequence) can't really be hurt, and the more it all becomes very detached from the real world, the sense of doom and foreboding that they did so well throughout the whole show kind of vanishes. The tension weirdly feels lower because the worst has already happened. I really believe in 'more is less' when it comes to scary things, and in a hell world where everything is horrible everywhere, it has less impact after a while. I did love the relationship between Jon and Martin providing those moments of humanity and warmth in the midst of it all, though, that was sweet.

the end itself...well, I found the dilemma interesting on a character level. of course Jon would sacrifice himself ; he feels so guilty he would doom the entire world to die rather than have to shoulder even more guilt for the fears potentially conquering other dimensions. he's spent so long feeling powerless and out of his depth that he would grasp this chance to finally make a choice and have agency and protect at least some people and keep the fears from extending their reach. but i love that he wasn't able to see it through either. it's so human. him and Martin breaking their promises to each other isn't miscommunication, it's deeply rooted in their respective personalities. of course Martin would do anything not to lose Jon since that love is basically the thing that saved him from the Lonely.

i don't think any of the options they had were the 'right choice' - both were shitty and atrocious, but the one that ended up happening is the one i would have picked, because it leaves some space for hope. If Jon had chosen to end their world to trap the fears, killing billions of people in the process, that would have been certain doom. With the fears sucked into other dimensions - first of all they had no certainty that the fears didn't already exist somewhere else, and any of the other worlds still have a fighting chance. I mean, it still sucks tremendously, it's very scary and ethically questionable and a massive risk, but at least it's open and it leaves it up to the people in the other worlds to make their own choices. And their world has a chance to recover. I find the idea that people remember what happened and the concept of a post-post apocalyptic world fascinating. I also really like that Melanie, Georgie and Basira (and the Admiral) made it out alive, and that we don't really know what happened to Jon and Martin. For a horror podcast that's super dark, violent and depressing, it's kind of awesome how they managed to sidestep 'bury your gays' very elegantly.

I've read this head canon somewhere of Jon and Martin being scattered across dimensions as these not-quite-human anymore entities that work to warn people and counteract the fears, powered by love and the desire to make things better, and I think that's my favorite post-canon option, because while it's still kind of a horrible fate it's also the one that gives them the most agency and it's also kind of romantic (way too much for a horror podcast, I'm aware, but i like that open endings like these allow you to make your own decisions about what happened).

also, the Web won, which is terrifying. the idea that it's using people as neurons ! horrible. amazing.

on a philosophical level I'm not sure i find the whole thing all that interesting, as a thought experiment, because i don't believe the universe is this consistently evil in the real world, so i don't find it super relevant. I'm also not the kind of hardcore fan who remembers a lot of details about previous seasons, so maybe I'm missing something.

But yeah overall I think in terms of storytelling this remains a pretty decent ending with enough layers to make it satisfying. it wasn't transcendent but it didn't ruin the whole thing, at least (*cough cough the Black Tapes*) and I can see myself listening to it again in a few years. and i'm definitely going to need a few fix-it fics now.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma s5 #tma finale #podcast review #also there is no better way to listen to a spooky podcast than to bike through the woods at sunset #both pleasant and kind of sinister it's great

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byunbaekby · 4 years

Text

One Day (PM 01:27)

Pairing: Reader x ex!Doyoung Summary: You’ve never been able to let Doyoung go. He remains in your heart though you can’t erase him, your memories that you can’t let go of. He lives in your books, though you try to ignore his presence. And now, he stands before you to remind you of that time you’ve lost. Word Count: 2.6k Author’s Note: Please enjoy this t h i n g that I wrote at one in the morning because Replay (PM 01:27) came on, and I’ve always loved that song. I’ve always felt like, although it’s kind of disco-y and upbeat, it had a deeper sadder meaning. So here is my word vomit, inspired by one of my favorite NCT 127 songs :)

Your break-up wasn’t supposed to be a break up.

Initially, it was just a break.

Fresh out of college with your undergrads, drowning in debt and lacking in love, you told your boyfriend of three years, Kim Doyoung, that you needed a break. You had simply grown apart, and needed time to reprocess your relationship. Being the understanding man you knew him to be, he obliged.

You had expected it to last a week or two, maybe a month. But Doyoung had packed his necessities from your shared apartment and, with a kiss on your forehead, left for Taeyong's place, promising to be back whenever you needed. But he never came back.

You didn’t really know what it was that kept you from calling him.

Perhaps it was that you were a writer. Your head in the clouds and your emotions always running wild, you constantly overthought every single detail of your relationship. You would keep telling yourself you needed more time away. That time grew from days, to weeks, to months, until it had been over a year since the last time Doyoung pressed his chapped lips to your skin in a chaste kiss.

Perhaps it was that Doyoung, as a law student, was far too emotionless and had no qualms giving you your infinite space, even as your relationship silently disintegrated. He respected your space, told you to reach out to him when you were ready. But you had never been ready.

Perhaps it was just that in your time apart, the love faded. You both came to realize this.

I can't move an inch, I’m still here. Afterimages of you dig into me like vibrations. At the end of the scene of longing that always circles my head. I heard a familiar sound.

It’s been two years since the last time you set foot on Korean soil.

After your break-up with Doyoung, after you came to terms with the fact that you would never collect the courage to pick up the phone and tell him that you made a mistake, you left your home for greener pastures. In other words, the States.

You had minored in English Literature anyways, and felt that you had a greater chance to kickstart your career in a different country. In some ways, perhaps you needed to get away as well. Get away from the craziness of Korea, from the reminders of Doyoung and the life you once shared together that was no longer attainable.

It’s all a lie, for your heart has been in the same place all this time.

Though it’s only been a mere three hours since you’ve stepped off the plane, your luggage tucked away in your hotel room somewhere negligible in your mind, you remember why you never wanted to return. If not for the release of your first Korean novel, you would have never come back.

Because Doyoung is everywhere.

You see him as you turn the corner, thinking you catch a glimpse of that ugly old car he had always insisted on keeping.

You feel him as you walk down the crowded street bustling with people in the afternoon, clutching your hand tightly to prevent losing you.

You taste him as you walk past a bar the two of you used to frequent, alcohol on his lips as you tugged him home with giggles on your’s.

And now, as you stand at a crosswalk surrounded by tens of commuting passerbyers, your hands tucked into the pockets of your Burberry trench coat, you hear him.

“Y/N?”

Except you turn and discover that he is real.

Between the passing people, your melody scatters. Just like then, we're facing each other.

“So… How have you been?”

He is first to break the awkward silence. Your hands, cold from both the air conditioning and your trembling nerves, clutch tighter at your cup of tea. You can see it now. Just four years ago, in the comfortable phase of your relationship, you sat with him in the same cafe, in that corner over there and helplessly in love.

Now he offers a tight-lipped smile to you.

“Fine.”

“Seems like you’re doing more than fine. I… I’ve seen your name on the news. And writer’s lists, your work is doing really well.” You would have never thought that he’d seen your writing. It was all in English, a language you didn’t remember him being too proficient in.

“I guess,” is your response. To anyone, you would have sounded indifferent, uninterested in a conversation with your ex.

A pregnant silence grows between you. Now, it is not Doyoung who is emotionless and stone-faced, but you. He had always been the rock in your relationship—you were infinitely falling apart in emotion and he was always putting you back together. Now, you are stone cold and he is reaching out to you.

“You still don’t drink coffee.” No, you don’t. You had always despised it.

“And you still drink your cafe latte with caramel drizzle.” This brings a soft smile to his face, as if amused by the fact that you could still recall such memories from your mind. What he doesn’t know is that you had spent almost three years away from him trying to banish these thoughts from your mind. You didn’t want to remember, yet he forever remained like an echo in your brain.

“Yeah,” Doyoung starts. “Some things don’t change after all.” Oh, but they do. Everything has changed, except perhaps your preference in drinks.

Another silence.

He looks healthy. He doesn’t look like a man who had been blindsighted and left in the dark by his long term girlfriend and lover. His face is more defined, no longer softened by the image of youth. Shoulders broadened. Hair done. He dons a suit, pricey as you can recall the brand. But he’s still Doyoung, the man you had been in love with since you laid eyes on him at eighteen years old.

“I’m a lawyer now.” You hadn’t even thought to ask him about his whereabouts. How rude, you scold yourself.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Finished law school a year ago. I didn’t really want to but… Taeyong encouraged me to finish what I already started. I work at Jaehyun’s dad’s firm now.”

“Oh. That’s… nice.”

You wonder fleetingly if you sound uninterested, because you’re not. It’s quite the opposite.

You’re amazed.

Unable to prevent the river of memories that hit you, you relish in it instead. Doyoung hunched over his books for hours; Doyoung stressing over his law school applications, even though you had assured him multiple times that he would be accepted with flying colors; Doyoung always debating with you over the simplest topics, and you laughing to tell him that he’d make the perfect lawyer, always so argumentative. The only time he hadn’t argued was when you told him to leave.

Another silence, except this time, it is you who breaks it.

“I’m proud of you.”

A softness falls over Doyoung’s eyes which are typically always so guarded.

“Thank you.”

Old memories, frozen times. Songs we listened to together. You and I, it's clear like it was yesterday.

“You hate it!”

“No… I never said that, baby.” You stare at him with narrowed eyes and a pout on your lips. The two of you are sitting on your bed in your PJs, it is nearly two in the morning. In his hands, your boyfriend holds the first draft of your first short story.

Though he tries to keep a straight face for half a second, he soon bursts into laughter, tilting his head back. With an indignant grunt you snatch the papers from him.

“You’d be a horrible lawyer, you’ve got horrible resolve,” you frown, clutching the papers close to your chest with a pout.

“Baby,” he says, remnants of his laugh from earlier still present in his voice. “It’s not poorly written.” As he speaks, you tuck the papers into the drawer of your nightstand and instead tuck yourself into his arms. “It’s just cliche, I mean, her parents are dead from a drunk driving car accident? She falls in love with a boy after they get paired for a project together? This is K-drama central.”

“It was the best I could do,” you mumble into his chest as he pulls you close in bed, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Thank you for your best.” Even when he is making fun of you, you feel the sincerity in his words. He never means to hurt you; that is Doyoung. He is brash and serious, sometimes too serious to the point where you don’t know when he’s joking, but he never means to cause you any pain. “But I know you’ll be better one day. And one day, I’ll read every single one of your books. I promise, and you know I’m a lawful man!”

One day. One day with Doyoung, you can see it already. “Yeah, one day when you’re the top lawyer at the firm and I’m a famous author.” You grin, tearing from his chest to shoot him a bright smile. “People will pay you billions to have you protect them, and I’ll be picking out stars for my first movie… Song Joongki will do.” This brings a giggle from your throat.

He presses his lips to your forehead, a trademark of his.

“Sounds like a plan, love. One day.”

We were so perfect and it hasn’t faded. I want to turn back time.

Though the two of you are standing in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by a bustling crowd of people and noise which never seems to cease, the silence is overwhelming.

It’s the same silence that lingered between you for years following your “break,” because neither of you were willing to smash it. Smash the wall between you, one that had been erected without either of your knowledge. The two of you have changed, have grown, have become adults. Yet it seems you are still both afraid.

He walks you to the crosswalk that you had earlier met at. As you are waiting for the light to turn green to allow your journey across the street, Doyoung produces something from inside his suit jacket.

It is your book, the first with its phonetics written in Korean, your mother tongue. It had only been released yesterday.

“I just finished reading this, on my lunch break, when I saw you.”

Does he know? Does he know that it is your story? A story of love, of the love that never asked but never ended. A question mark on the end of a seven year long story, never to have an ending? A couple that falls in love, falls apart, and moves on. Life doesn’t have happy endings, after all.

“You read it?” “Of course. I promised I’d read all your books.” The thought makes your heart lurch, but rather than lean away from him, it reaches out to him.

“Thank you for today. I know it was sudden, but thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to have coffee with me.. Miss famous author.” You look up to him and he has a slight smile curving on his lips.

“Any time, Doie.” The name catches him off guard, but he tightens his lips and smiles. You mirror it.

Yet another silence grows and you almost wish you could live the rest of your lifetime without ever thinking, writing, or experiencing that word ever again.

The look that Doyoung has on his face is stoic. You want him to say it, you know he has something unsaid. It almost feels as though he has dug it from within him after three years. You know it. Say it, you want to urge him in your head.

“Have a good life, Y/N.” It is a goodbye, a final closing on your story which had been left open-ended for so many years. The thought makes you want to cry. Just hours ago you had stepped off the plane, thinking that you were perfectly content in this new life you had grown without Kim Doyoung. Now, the thought of living without him causes your heart to tighten painfully.

“You too, Doyoung.”

The light turns green. You turn your back to him.

Like Doyoung had done at your request a number of years ago, you walk away.

Our hearts that connected one by one. Our hearts that beat toward each other. In this moment, we want the same dream.

You’ve counted twenty steps when you can’t walk any further. Frantically you turn around, and search for his disappearing head in the crowd of people.

No, you can’t allow him to walk away. Not again.

“Doyoung!” You yell, but he can’t hear you. The silence is deafening.

Though the light on the crosswalk has now turned red, you sprint across. You cannot lose sight of him, you cannot allow yourself to lose him once again.

“Doyoung!” Please.

You have found him. He is walking, his eyes to the ground and your book in his hands. You have to find it—the courage, the voice within you to call out to him.

You love him.

“Kim Doyoung!” He stops. He’s heard you.

Doyoung stops in his tracks and turns over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You were supposed to be gone, you were supposed to walk away on the crosswalk back to your hotel and out of his life once again. But no, you were standing here before him with panting breaths and tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” There, you have said it. You are sorry for letting go. You are sorry for allowing your relationship to dissipate into thin air and nothingness. You are sorry for running away, and for never being able to say it until now. “I love you, I love you so much. I’ve never stopped loving you. I tried to ignore it and pretend I didn’t, and pretend that I didn’t care when you never came back from Taeyong’s. I pretended I didn’t care when I threw out the stuff you left behind, I pretended it didn’t hurt me when I stepped on that plane.” Your tears are free-falling now, and suddenly you feel Doyoung’s large hands on your cheeks, cupping them as your book falls to the ground. How foolish you must look, crying in the middle of the day in the midst of the city, but you don’t care.

“I pretended that I didn’t miss you, I pretended my heart didn’t do a thousand and one flips when you called my name today, I pretended that everything would be okay eventually if I kept ignoring the fact that I couldn’t live without you, because I thought it would be okay one day.”

One day.

“But I don’t want that day to come. That day where I can live without you. I want our one day. The one day where I’m happy and you’re happy and we can live out our dreams that we’ve planned since we were stupid kids in love in college. The one day where we can be okay again... Doyoung, I want you. I want your one day and the rest of your days.” Your voice catches in your throat. To be able to admit aloud verbally, to both him and yourself, it makes you cry even harder.

You hadn’t noticed until now that your tears were matched by his. God, you love him so much.

“Okay,” Doyoung manages, voice low as his shaky breath touches your lips. “Today.”

Cause I just want to be, I just want to be loved.

#nct #nct 127 #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung fanfic #doyoung imagine #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #nct angst #nct fanfic #nct imagine #this turned out a LOT longer than i planned #but whooop

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