#but when it comes to a lot of his thoughts/motivations he eludes me SO much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thisisadonaldduckblognow · 11 months

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i wish i had the energy and eloquence to fully and properly get into the family therapist mikey thing tbh it’s so hard to just. explain what i MEAN.

(ftr i am an adult who does regularly touch grass. i understand interpretation and ymmv on characterization. i understand the catharsis of vent art and vent fic and projecting issues onto characters to process them. i don’t read through stuff i’ve found issues with and then seethe about it, i keep scrolling or hit the back button and find something else.

i am still gonna talk about trends i’ve noticed and things that i don’t get or that rub me the wrong way. please don’t come into my posts about my personal thoughts and opinions to, however well-meaning or politely, judge me for expressing them. consider doing what i do and keep scrolling. i won’t engage with that. i would ask that no one else engages with that in replies or comments.

i also legit don’t Get tone indicators just ftr. they elude me.)

bc so much of the draxum moral realignment stuff was mikey being motivated largely by what mikey wanted. he wanted to see barry as family, he wanted barry to become part of the family, he wanted the story of their mutation to be less uh. objectively crummy.

now, mikey’s wants in that area served as a CATALYST for other development, him pursuing that (often very hamfistedly and despite many objections) wound up paving the way, but it was ultimately in the spirit of his personal desire. which ftr im not criticizing that’s very much part of the character.

he brought draxum to the big hidden city day out because it was a Family Event and he personally considered draxum family. splinter and draxum kinda coming to a truce, splinter reconciling that his mutation (despite the horrific trauma and long-lasting impact of it) was still what gave him his sons who he loves more than anything, that was all splinter and draxum. mikey’s action of bringing barry along was a catalyst, he was able to speak to his own feelings about it to splinter when it came up, but he wasn’t sitting there going “tell me how that makes you feel and we’ll talk through it” yknow?

and it’s the same with the dr feelings thing with donnie, which is arguably as close to Playing Therapist as mikey gets on screen. bc that was just a very Extra way of confronting donnie about the shelldon stuff. like. that was mikey inserting himself into the situation so he could give his personal opinion about how donnie was messing up, just with a sweater and a powerpoint. like. an intervention i guess. if donnie hadn’t gotten the picture from the slides he was probably all lined up for a dr delicate touch meeting.

which like, was also not being donnie’s therapist as much as a once again very hamfisted way of addressing something that mikey felt in the right about?

i’m wondering if maybe what i picture when i hear about a child having to play therapist for the family isn’t the same as what modern fandom means by saying it. because i picture like, what steven universe went through. which was practically singlehandedly, as a child, walk a bunch of adults through their own grief and insecurities and shortcomings with unending patience and support, to a point of pushing all his own needs and emotional issues aside.

where steven seemed convinced there were things that he wasn’t allowed to express or outright things he never got to learn to express, mikey is probably the most emotionally open and honest of all the brothers. he feels more outright sheltered.

especially where his big brothers are concerned. the entire episode about his first solo mission he was chafing about being unnecessarily overprotected by raph. there’s a lot tied up in his relationship to raph if we take what the creators said about them growing apart as they’ve grown up into account.

so i guess for me, in my understanding of the trauma of playing therapist at a young age, i can’t really reconcile what canon gives us with the idea of any of the other brothers or splinter (who is notably emotionally disconnected from his sons at series start) genuinely dropping their issues on his lap.

but in that vein, for as much as he’s emotionally open and honest, i’m sure there are also insecurities and issues that mikey doesn’t express. or. that canon for some reason just decided to not dig into in any of the episodes that actually got made.

but ohhhhh that’s a whole separate can of worms.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey

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inumbrapugnabimus-maybe · 8 months

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🟦🟧

thank you so much for the ask!!

I decided to answer the second one first since talking about OCs might take a while…

Rambles (and art!!) under the cut :)

I have a few different answers to this one! I definitely draw Legend from linked universe the most, but my favorite to draw is Link from Skyward Sword (both his normal design and his linked universe one)! But that is just when it comes to faces! My favorite outfit to draw at the moment is ALTTP Zelda’s!

and now on to the dreaded topic of OCs… I have a LOT. Some are connected to a loz au I’m sort of working on every once in a while and the other’s are from an original story that’s been fermenting in my brain since middle school… their designs aren’t finalized and neither are their personalities for the most part. I guess I’ll tell you about some from each?

ok! Here are Zelda and Link from my au! (These designs are months old and I’ll probably redo them completely at some point)

I don’t have much of the plot and personalities determined yet, with the exception of Zelda’s. She is pretty young and naive at the beginning, and is pretty timid too! She has to grow out of herself a lot and once she moves past her shyness she has a fiery spirit and a strong sense of joy at discovering the world around her. She is also a menace. You’d almost think she’d have the triforce of courage, but she still wields wisdom, though in a more decisive, instinctual way (almost like she is just following her gut) Sheik is a disguise she uses partly to hide from Ganondorf, and partly because she wants Link to think of her as someone more than the scared little girl he rescued a year earlier. Link, on the other hand, I have no idea how to portray. Much like Ganondorf in this au, his personality eludes me. I do know he is a bit grumpier and pretty serious, and has travelled all his life.

I don’t want to write too much, but I do have a lot of ✨thoughts✨ about them, if anyone is curious!

and as for my actually original OCs, I don’t have any good examples of their designs…

I don’t want to describe the entire plot, so I can’t explain most of the characters at all XD

my main villain however (tho he’s not exactly a villain), I can talk about! So the story is set in a sort of fantasy sort of medieval setting but the poor guy (I haven’t figured out a name for him yet) got sealed away for centuries… he used to be the chieftain of the nomadic tribe that dominated the island they live on, but centuries later with a king on the throne he is a bit out of place! (and also furious about losing everything he knew and loved) His main motivation is revenge against those who (to him) usurped his power and killed his wife and their yet to be born son. He is not at all aware that he is in the future and the very usurpers he seeks to destroy are his own descendants.

personality-wise, he’s a little out of his mind, and has a very sharp wit. He is very barbaric and a bit wild, but carries himself like a king. He has a lot of traits of the classic cool and calculating villain, but his main motivation is the love for his family twisted into a primal rage. When he’s angry he becomes hysterical and tends to speak almost softly, almost laughing, before exploding into anger.

oh, and he’s not exactly human anymore. He’s at this point, and through no fault of his own, basically sentient black mist that can talk and change form. He chooses to stay in the form of his human self however, but looks less so the more he gives up what humanity he has left.

he’s probably my favorite part of the story tbh.

ok! That’s it!! Hope I didn’t dump to much info about my OCs; I wasn’t sure how much to share…

#Again #sorry for infodumping #It’s what I do best #Oh and I also have this linked universe Frozen au…#But I highly doubt anyone wants to hear about that XD #It’s mostly a joke that went too far #Ask game #My art

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myjustice · 4 months

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"Where were you tonight? Did you have some fun?" The question was fostered in genuine curiosity. An aspect he comes to learn is how when motivation strikes her, it inevitably soars when she has her focus. Thoma's own days have been considerably busy, but time would contently find itself being made for her. A fresh cup of hot cocoa would be offered by her table side before he takes a seat next to her, cradling his own. Making them something to warm the atmosphere between them feels like second nature by now.

He may be a little curious if she enjoys the recipe, y'know, to see this could make her glow as well. "We could do story for story if that sounds like a fair trade. Though, I'm not sure how much rampant robots, laser fire and a guy stuck in a reverse ostrich stance sounds to you.."

it was strange returning home to someone already here. perhaps strange was too cruel of a word to describe what his presence incited within herself amidst her abode. a pleasant casualty she supposed, poetic in nature, but the usage & combination of words were fitting. ' hello to you too. ' she greeted with a smile, busying herself with removing her scarf which provided her some sense of warmth these chilly winter nights. furina closed & locked her door soon after. once her scarf was removed she snapped her fingers, calling upon her faithful entourage to allow them to mingle & simply be amidst a space they were already so comfortable & familiar with. each of their personalities bright within her apartment as they went about what earned their attention. at this point they have grown used to thoma all in thanks to her of course. aside from exposing them often to him, she always made it a habit to remind them that trusting him was not a mistake. it worked out in the end because just like her, her salon solitaire were also quick studies ... when they wanted to be to be fair.

furina stretched her arms out into the air, noting that she was a tad bit more tense than she initially thought herself to be. she was probably more at ease now because she was in the safety of her apartment & was properly being catered to at that. the hot drink hardly eluded her. ' monsieur neuvillette requested my presence in the palais mermonia. ' which was slowly becoming more & more common & admittedly, in a manner, it also helped her perception about things so she fought against her anxiety tooth & nail & would go. the regina smiled at him as she took her seat along with him, her mismatched gloved hands immediately warmed by the hot winter-appropriate indulgence before her. ' thank you, thoma. ' she had been dying for one of these, how considerate of him to make her some - she was touched.

she carefully lifted her cup & blew gentle air at it, her eyes focused upon her dashing company for the evening, his words making her giggle to herself as she indulged upon her presented indulgence & consumed some of the delicious drink. gods, he sure knew how to make a lot of delicious treats, she hoped to be that good one day. though her cooking skills were hardly anything to laugh about now, having mastered a good portion of it fairly quickly, she was aware that against him she paled by comparison. she expelled a pleased sigh once she placed her cup back 'pon her table. ' i can hardly go into detail about what matters were addressed on my visit over there. internal affairs, sensitive in nature. i can't dive into them too much. however it was pleasant. ' there were moments where she felt the threat of sleep overtake her but she came out the victor, naturally - her self-discipline was hardly that weak.

' oh? ' she leaned slightly forward with her arms rested comfortably upon her side of the table. ' pray tell. tell me more. ' she insisted lightly with interest. she was more interested about his day than her own to be honest.

meme. / @scarletooyoroi

#scarletooyoroi #&. main. ( i'm tired... )#you really weren't lying when you said he was a green flag lkgh #this is cute thank you!

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

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Journey to the Past Ch 11

Bryan Kneef x reader Warnings: language, smut eluded to/talked about/minor dirty talk, conversations involving case work, non detailed abuse/assault mentioned. Sorry for the delay in posting esp with this fic. I have everything outlined but this one needed a little bit more figuring out and I wasn't even sure if i wanted to include it. It was supposed to be tacked on to the end of the last ch but then that was too long already so here we are? LOL. Here's hoping my motivation keeps up this week!

Rather than the usual being buried in cases and feeling overwhelmed you were finally on the uprise, you’d won two of the cases that had gone to trial, offered a plea on another that was accepted and gotten charges dropped on a third. You were leisurely working your way through some wrap up paperwork in your office, a quiet playlist echoing through the room from your phone. You sensed Bryan’s presence, your lips twitching up into a small smile before the scent of his cologne wafted through your office and you finally spoke.

“You just gonna stand there and stare?” You glanced up at him with a small laugh, watching the way he chuckled, pushing himself off the door frame he’d been leaning against.

“Was just waiting for you to wrap up.”

“It’s not that important.” You replied with a shrug as he moved through the office, dropping his briefcase into an empty chair. “What’re you up to?”

“Talking pleas with Harrison.”

“He take any of your offers?”

“He did.” Bryan grinned.

“Looks like we’re both on the winning streak then.” You replied with a smile, “you wanna grab lunch?”

“I wish I could.” He let out a small sigh, “I’ve got a meeting with Diane in forty-five.”

“Lame.” You leant back in your chair, letting out a breath, “I think I might take a half day.”

“You should, you deserve it.” Smiling, Bryan stepped up to your desk, pulling a small box from his pocket and placed it down in front of you, “could use that.”

“What is this?” You raised a brow, reaching out to pick up the box, curious at its contents. The box was unlabelled, no store or company logo, it seemed far too small to be a toy of any kind, which was the direction your mind was headed, though jewelry would fit perfectly. You plucked the lid off and your head tilted as you saw what was inside, “a key?”

“I felt bad about having to kick you out Monday when I had to leave early, you didn’t get your beauty sleep.” He teased and you rolled your eyes, “this way, you can sleep in as late as you need and you don’t have to be worried about leaving the door unlocked.” He leant against the edge of your desk, his voice lowering as to not be overheard, “if you’re taking a half day today, you could use it now. Make yourself at home, get nice and comfortable and put the Lush in?” He raised a brow, grinning down at you and you felt heat surge through your body at the thought of the toy, “would make my afternoon meetings a hell of a lot more entertaining knowing I was getting you off at the same time.”

“Mmm…” you pursed your lips, “that does sound like a wonderful idea Mr. Kneef.”

“Yeah?” His hand reached out, pinching at your chin gently, “you want daddy to take control? Then come home and fuck this pretty mouth of yours?” His thumb trailed across your lower lip and your mouth dropped open instinctively, “that’s my good girl.” He leant forward, deeply kissing you, his tongue sinking into your mouth. He nipped at your lip before pressing a soft kiss to it and his hand slid off your cheek. “I’ve got to get going, text me.”

“I will.” You smiled and he shot you a wink, gathering his things and disappearing from your office in the blink of an eye with even more of a swagger in his step than on the way in.

Bryan couldn’t help the smug grin as he climbed into the back of his car, knowing that he’d left you riled up, hot and bothered with only one thing on your mind. Even if you had been planning on staying in the office through the afternoon you wouldn’t be able to focus much on work and he knew it. He felt his cock twitch in his pants, he wondered if he’d be able to convince you to record yourself while he controlled the vibe, even if it was just audio clips they’d be more than enough. His plan was to get you absolutely drenched, soaking and whiny with need so that by the time he got home you’d be begging for him and he could fuck you so hard you’d be feeling it well into next week.

He was also impressed with himself, he’d been unsure about the key, wondering if he’d be able to pull it off or not. Truthfully, it did make things so much easier when visiting each other’s apartments, no worrying about having to buzz someone up, you could come and go as you pleased. He felt a blooming in his chest and let out a grumble, digging through his bag for an antacid, popping a couple into his mouth and chasing them with a swig of water. He wasn’t going to let a little acid reflux ruin the high he was running on or anything else. He’d been dreaming of this for years, first wishing that he’d had the courage to say something to you, and then imagining what fucking you would be like. Now he didn’t have to leave it to his imagination, he knew just how fucking phenomenal you felt, the heavenly sounds you made as he drove you to your peak. He knew your favourite food, flower, how you took you coffee, the perfect temperature to turn the shower onto in the mornings, and exactly what to do when you were stressing over a case. It was only a couple of months in, and you hadn’t even discussed the label of your relationship, but he already knew more about you than any other girl he’d dated, and this time he actually cared about it. He wrote down reminders, your birthday was circled on his calendar and he was actively thinking about how to make you happy, not just about how to get himself off.

Which is exactly why when his phone pinged with a text from you a couple of hours later he was only a little bummed, and more for the fact that he’d been looking forward to pleasuring you.

‘Picked up a new client. Definitely not getting that half day, I’ll come by your place once I’m done?’

‘Take all the time you need, I’ll be waiting.’ He signed the text with a winking emoji face, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Bryan knew you were going to be later than planned but he hadn’t expected you to be as late as you were. He’d had time to finish his work day, get home, hit the gym and have a long shower, changing into fresh comfy clothes while he started to think about dinner. He figured he’d cook instead of ordering take out again, take the opportunity to use up what was in his fridge before it went bad. After looking through what he had he pulled out some chicken breast to quickly marinate and some veggies to sauté and threw a pot of rice on the stove. He decided on a nice bottle of red wine to go with it, pouring himself a glass to enjoy while he cooked.

He heard the sound of a brief knock from down the entry hall, then the clinking of the key he’d given you in the lock followed by the sound of your heels on the hardwood. You rounded the corner into the main space, dropping your bag onto the couch and peeling your blazer off, draping it over the back of the couch before crossing through the space to greet Bryan with a soft kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him for a second kiss, this one longer than the first and your hands found home on his chest before sliding up his body and linking behind his neck as the kiss broke.

“Sorry about the change of plans.”

“Next time.” He grinned, quickly kissing your cheek before turning back to the stove, briefly checking on the food, “wine?”

“Jesus christ, please!” You replied, letting out a weary sigh as you leant against the island and Bryan turned back to you brow furrowed, a look of concern in his eyes.

“What’s going on? This is far from the high spirited attorney I saw before lunch.” He quickly poured out a glass of wine, sliding it across the counter to you, “this new client bring an un-winnable case?”

“it’s not the case, it’s the client.” You replied with a grumble, reaching for the wine glass to take a hefty swig as Bryan turned back to the stove. “Never in my life did I think Catrina would walk into my office.”

“You’ve lost me now.” His response came from over his shoulder, attending to dinner while listening.

“Catrina is Mike’s wife. Well… soon to be ex wife.” You sipped back some more wine trying to rid yourself of the daunting afternoon you’d had, you thought you’d managed to rid yourself of your ex husband and everything that came along with him but life had a funny way of fucking you over.

“What happened?”

“Big shocker.” You stated dryly, nearly laughing at how much of not a surprise it was, “they were arguing, he lost it and beat the shit out of her. She look likes crap, and the E.R. pictures are sickening.” Your gaze was drifted out the window, unaware that Bryan had completely frozen in his movements, worry taking over his features as he moved from the stove to you, jolting you back to real life when his hand came up to caress your cheek.

“Did he ever hurt you like that?”

“No! God no,” you shook your head, placing the wine glass down on the island, “I told you; I was never mouldable enough for him to behave like that.”

“But that would piss him off even more.” His thumb rubbed at your cheek and you turned your head to leave a kiss in his palm, “and just because he wasn’t physically hitting you doesn’t mean he wasn’t hurting you.”

“Bry…” you squeezed at his hand, leaning in to kiss him gently, “he was too busy cheating on me to even think about it. And you’re gonna burn that rice.” You nodded toward the stove and Bryan let out a soft sigh, darting back over to it to pull it off the burner.

“Did that fucking bastard follow you to Chicago?”

“No, they’re still in New York.”

“So now she’s just dragging you into her messy divorce for fun? Can you even take the case?”

“Yeah I’ve still got jurisdiction in New York.” You leant against the island, “I pick up cases out there a few times a year, for old clients or friends.”

“She’s clearly not a friend.” He commented, shifting the rice pot off the burner as his attention moved to the chicken and veggies.

“No. But she knows just how good I am. And just because she was one of the dirty mistresses in my marriage doesn’t mean she deserves this, I mean, there are kids in that house.” You let out a loud groan of a sigh, running your hand over your face and pushing back your hair, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Bryan flicked off the burners, moving back over to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he kissed you softly, making sure he had your gaze before he spoke.

“First…we’re gonna get you out of these ridiculously high and expensive shoes.” He crouched in in front of you, peeling your Manolo’s off your feet, pressing gentle kisses to your ankles and calves as he did so. He stood up, a hand coming to your waist, “and as much as I do adore you in Dolce and Gabbana, you’re going to get changed into something more comfortable so you can actually enjoy this dinner. After that, up to you.”

Your hand reached up to his cheek, cupping it gently before you stole a kiss, a warm smile on your face.

“You really know how to treat a girl right, thank you.” You lingered for one more kiss before Bryan was shooing you down the hallway so he could plate up dinner.

You searched through his closet, finding an old Harvard hoodie you knew was the one you used to steal from him all those years ago along with the pair of pj shorts you’d stashed in your bag and took the time to pull your hair up off your neck, wiping off most of your makeup for the ultimate comfort for the rest of the evening. By the time you’d wandered back out to the kitchen Bryan had two plates on the coffee table and was in the process of moving the wine over as well.

You thanked him for dinner, pecking his cheek softly before the two of you settled into the couch and started on dinner. He’d queued up the most recent T.V. binge the two of you had been managing to keep up on and that was a pleasant distraction while you ate. When you finished eating you nestled into Bryan’s side, letting out a happy hum at the way his arm wrapped around you, the soft kiss he left on the top of your head. You found yourself distracted, only half paying attention to the show as you thought about Catrina and everything she was going through, your thoughts becoming verbal not much longer after that.

“I think I’m gonna have to go to New York….” You murmured and Bryan’s attention was suddenly fully on you, his head turning to glance down at you.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Your head rolled so you could look up at him, “I don’t think I’d feel right if I didn’t.” You let out a small breath, pushing up so you were sitting cross legged facing him, “he did his best to take advantage of me but I was always a step ahead –minus the affair— I knew my way around things legally enough that he was never a big issue with me. If I hadn’t been so hurt and betrayed about everything I would’ve actually been able to warn her, that she should get out while she can.”

“This is not your fault.” He assured, squeezing at your hand and you let out a tiny laugh.

“No, I know. But she’s gonna need a good lawyer. She didn’t report the assault at the hospital and lied to the police that were called, and it’s not exactly like she came from money. Mike did, and he’s got a hell of a lot of it, he’s going to be able to drag this out for as long as possible and he’s gonna have a good lawyer. I can’t let him continue to take this out on her… and those kids? I mean, he’s gonna be able to make it seem like she’s the bad guy somehow, I just know it, he was always so manipulative and vindictive, making himself the victim whenever I was late coming home, or had to leave during a date? If he could pull that kinda crap with me without me realizing, how badly do you think he’s been treating her?”

When you glanced up at Bryan you noticed how his features softened, the concern in his eyes as he reached out to stroke your cheek, sighing softly.

“What?” You asked, your head tilting in curiosity.

“I just wish I’d said something all those years ago, wish that I’d been able to stop you from marrying that fucking prick in the first place.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a small grin, shifting toward him on the couch, “you would’ve been my knight in shining armour?”

“Yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, tugging you into his lap and you let out a tiny shriek, “I really would have.”

“There’s still time.” You murmured, your lips ghosting over his while your hands cupped his cheeks, finger tips scratching into his beard. He hummed in response, kissing you gently, his arms winding around your waist as your lips moved with grace against his.

“I have always wanted to see New York in the winter.” He muttered back and your eyes widened.

“You’d come with me?”

“If it meant getting a chance to rub it into that asshole’s face about what he’s missing out on, of course.” He replied and you barked out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you swatted at his chest.

“You’re ridiculous.” You dipped down to kiss him again, relaxing into his embrace, “I don’t even know if I’ll actually take the case.” Bryan’s hand glided up your back, coming to softly play with your hair, “I’ll wait and see who his lawyer is, probably pass it off to an old friend.”

“Okay.” He rubbed at your skin gently, gaining your attention once more as you looked down at him, “whatever you decide I’m here to support you. I’ve got some connections out there too; we can find her the best lawyer suited for her case.”

“You really are something else, aren’t you Bry?” You smiled down at him, your fingers pinching at his chin as you stole another kiss, the mood in the room shifting from the conversation to one of adoration.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

“I am.” You murmured back, kissing him once more, “though I do believe I was promised orgasms earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised a brow, a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t help but chuckle at, “you wanna cash in on those now?”

“You know I do.” You practically purred back, arms winding around his shoulders as he shifted under you, scooping you up in his arms.

When you’d first arrived at his apartment you were so drained you thought it was going to be dinner, a minor conversation followed by going to bed, but Bryan had managed to cheer you up and relax you in ways you didn’t even think were possible. You felt comfortable with him, safe and protected, knowing that he had your back no matter what and wasn’t shying away from the potentially awkward conversation or situation at hand. That made you care for him even more, and on top of everything else, you knew he wasn’t going to stop until he’d pulled at least four orgasms from you and you were begging him to stop.

Yes, Bryan Kneef certainly was something else.

______________ @detective-giggles @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @bisexual-dreamer02 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @whimsicallymad @mrsrafaelbarba @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @caracalwithchips @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @lustvolle-liebe @anlin2058 @fandom-princess-forevermore @tinyboxxtink @alexusonfire @xovalliegirlxo @nobody-important1212 @somethingimaginative17 @momlifebehard @misscharlielulu @fighterkimburgess

#bryan kneef #bryan kneef x reader #the good fight #journey to the past

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wonlouvre · 3 years

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pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and angst word count: 3.7k WARNINGS: hospital setting, mentions of surgery/operation, blood, violence

a/n: so, this is it guys. the final part of ifliys :( i would like to extend my sincere thank yous to each and everyone who have read, liked, commented and shared this series. this is the very first fanfic i was able to finish/complete because of the support, love and motivation you all gave as i wrote this. don’t worry! there is an epilogue and i will announce what i have in store for them in the near future. in the meantime, this is part ten. thank you very much!

ten: moonlight | masterlist

The Queen is talkative. That’s one of the many quirks she has that you noticed when you were growing up. It’s not the uncomfortable or annoying kind of talkative. You really don’t know how to exactly put it, but she’s talkative in an elegant and easy-going way. One time, she decided to take a walk on a particularly busy street with only one member of the security detail assigned to tail her a few meters behind. She told you the whole story, excitedly. She was casually strolling and asking typical questions like what time is it to some vendors, passersby and the like. She even held a conversation about olive oil that lasted a good twenty minutes until the stranger she was talking to recognized who she was. You can tell that she had a blast as she laughed all through the evening.

Spending time with her gradually dwindled because of your job paired with your official duties as the Crowned Princess. But when opportunity arises, you make sure to make it worth the wait. Conversations are easy with her because she’s trustworthy and most importantly, she’s your mother. She usually asks you random, yet unexpectedly relevant questions whenever the two of you share a cup of coffee or tea or when you go shopping and even now is no different, as you’re about to choose the right fabric for your wedding dress.

“Describe the person that brings the best out of you.”

Ah, here we go. Your mother is surely not distracting you but her intent stares as she props her arm against the armrest of the white couch she’s sitting on is definitely pulling you away from the matter at hand. The look on your eyes is telling her really? and she fires back with an expecting one telling you a silent, “well? Come on. Tell me.”

You snort and shake your head, bringing your attention back to the table. You’re not denying your mother an answer because you know who to describe. It’s not that hard to figure out and you know she’s smart enough to know.

Jeon Wonwoo.

“How do you want me to describe? Personality or physical features?” You ask back and humor her as you fiddle with one lace material.

“Both,” she challenges with a mischievous grin and you’re not one to back down.

“Well, the person is quite tall and sharp in terms of physical features,” you start, doing your best to describe him implicitly. “Has a way with words, but they are all genuine and honest.”

Unbeknownst to you, your mother’s fond smile confirms your assumption that she is smart and that she knows who you’re talking about. But she presses on, loving how you describe this mysterious person.

“What about those features then? How do they help you?”

You thought for a moment and when the right words came to mind, you didn’t hesitate to say, “They inspire me to do and be better not only for myself but for everyone else. Mostly it’s their genuineness and honesty that inspires me.”

You and your mother laugh together at your last sentence.

It’s true though. After witnessing Wonwoo in the light of his Kingdom, something tugged at your heartstrings. You don’t exactly remember when, maybe it was around high school, but you remember adamantly telling your friends that you would want to be with someone that will bring the best out in you. Someone that can fuel your desire to be of service for the greater good. It sounds awfully used too often and you’re sure you’re not the only one who thinks this way, but as you have already said, it’s the truth.

Despite the circumstances, you found that someone. You found Wonwoo.

A few seconds later, Jeongyeon comes in with a knock and announces, “Your Majesty, Prince Wonwoo has arrived.”

Your eyes spring up at the name, distracted once again. And when you see the “tall” and “sharp” Prince, you’re quick to your feet and run towards him. He stumbles a little when you jump at him in a tight hug, arms clinging around his neck. Nonetheless, he smiles and welcomes your enthusiastic embrace with a soft smooch on the side of your head.

“Wait,” you abruptly pull away. “You’re not supposed to be here, though.”

Wonwoo acts dumb, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean? Her Majesty invited me to be here.”

“Calm down, Y/N,” you hear the culprit say behind your back as she stands up to greet her future son-in-law. “There’s no dress yet. It’s okay for him to be here.”

You subtly roll your eyes. You’re not one to be superficial but if there were a dress already, she’d take her words back. You return your arms back to Wonwoo’s waist and lean your chin against his chest, your lips pulling into a pout. He leans down to meet your lips with a quick peck but your mother was quicker to push you aside and to take her turn in giving him a hug.

Your jaw drops and your pout is exchanged with a scowl.

Wonwoo tries his best to hold his laughter but to no avail, fails as he formally greets the Queen. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Always good to see you, my Prince,” the Queen replies and gently pats his cheek. “And now that you’re here, I can finally take my leave.”

“Leave? We haven’t even picked a fabric yet,” you remind her and stand in between them.

“Honey, you have been going back and forth since nine in the morning,” she retaliates and walks back to the couch to pick her bag up. “Let’s schedule for another day. Unless you want Wonwoo to leave and we continue.”

Your stance immediately takes a hundred eighty degree turn. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s clear Saturday next week and we’ll take it from there.”

“I thought so.”

With a knowing wink, the Queen takes off.

That memory was from about three weeks ago after your visit and vacation at Wonwoo’s Kingdom. Wedding planning was back and the two of you went your separate ways for the time being to prepare your respective attire and accessories. Wonwoo didn’t know you had that conversation with the Queen not until she told him here at the hospital where you lie unconscious and fighting for your life.

The Royal Hospital was once again swarmed with a plethora of men in black suits because the Crowned Princess of the Kingdom has been shot twice, one on her shoulder and another on her left leg. It was a failed attempt in assassinating the King but Kim Mingyu took the opportunity to target your vulnerability and let his men shoot you instead as if it was his plan b. Kim Mingyu, whom he never desires to meet, is finally in police custody. He didn’t try to elude his impending arrest. In fact, he knew he would get arrested. He just wanted to toy with people until he couldn’t anymore.

Wonwoo has no words to spare to describe him and seeing his face and hearing his name everywhere and everytime is just making his blood boil.

The Queen has never left the hospital from the moment she arrived while you were undergoing operation up to being placed in a private room. She was calm when Wonwoo stood up from the bench to respectfully address her. She just nodded her head when he couldn’t say a word without his lips trembling and enveloped him in a warm hug as he cried on her shoulder.

She told him that the two of you haven’t spoken since your father’s arrest and it has been unbearably painful and challenging. She acknowledges how terrible and neglecting she has been as a mother when she knows how absolutely difficult this is for you. It’s even more heartbreaking because you never once complained. Instead you respected her silence and distance. She regrets her absence and seeing you lying on a bed, looking so cold and fragile is making her world completely fall apart.

“Wonwoo, I’m so sorry that this happened,” the Queen solemnly says and holds his hand tightly. “The Kingdom promises that everyone involved will be held accountable.”

Wonwoo nods. “I understand, Your Majesty. Our Kingdom will do so as well.”

“I also want you to know that Y/N never wanted to end the engagement,” she adds. “She was just afraid that someone like her doesn’t deserve to receive your love.”

Wonwoo didn’t know that you looked up to him. If anyone should be admired, it should be you because you were ready to drop everything just to uphold justice. It’s been three days after the operation and you still haven’t opened your eyes. The operation was successful. No artery nor major organs were damaged, but you did lose a lot of blood. Just like the Queen, Wonwoo has been by your side, patiently waiting. Right now despite your stable condition, he still feels like dying.

The love of his life almost died before his eyes.

Wonwoo rests his head on the small space beside your arm, similar to the first time he took care of you a few months back. He gazes at your peaceful face, silently begging for you to wake up. He wants to kiss, hear and hug you again. He wants to be with you again.

“Wonwoo.”

He sits up straight at the sound of his name and finds the Queen sadly smiling at him.

“How about you go back to your apartment for today?” She suggests, taking the seat on your other side. “Take a long shower and have some shut eye? Hmmm?”

Wonwoo bites his bottom lip, hesitant to leave and not have his eyes on you. He badly wants to stay and be here when you finally wake up. But the Queen is right. You’re safe now so he has nothing to worry about anymore.

Slowly, he stands up from the chair he’s been sitting on for who knows how long. He clasps his one hand around yours while the other sweeps the hair that’s covering your forehead and lands a gentle kiss there. You’re starting to warm up and that’s a relief.

He talks to you every single day, hoping you’d hear his voice. For now, he’ll keep it to himself.

I love you.

Later in the evening, you find your mother quietly dozing off, her head swaying from left to right and vice versa as she remains upright on the couch placed near the wall. You blink your eyes and adapt to the sudden brightness greeting your senses. You try to move your head and take in your surroundings and after a few minutes of contemplating, you recognize where you’re at and remember everything.

Dad.

Your violent gasp immediately roused your mother from her sleep and seeing you struggling to sit made her jolt up and hurry beside you.

“Darling,” she calls and holds your thrashing arms down, worried that you’d worsen your wounds. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Dad,” you voice out against the dryness of your throat. “Mom, where’s dad?”

“He’s okay too.” You can see the tears welling up on her eyes as she caresses your hair and gently pulls you in a hug. “He’s safe.”

Together, you shed the tears of anguish that you have been holding back for so long.

The King couldn’t be here because the court didn’t allow his appeal to accompany nor visit you even just for a day. He couldn’t even carry his daughter’s body to the ambulance because he was handcuffed and heavily guarded. He couldn’t even protect his daughter from the harmful consequences of his mistakes. Your mother told you that he desperately wants to be by your side and you do know that. You’re way past his inability to be here and that’s none of your concern anymore. As long as he is safe, you’re more than content.

The trial has been rescheduled for next week and your father has to be detained until then. You’ll try to visit him again once you’re discharged and together with that, you’d also find the strength to accompany him at his trial.

Your mother was firm on staying and insisting that she’s fine when you tried to urge her to go home, but you can clearly tell how tired she is from the lack of sleep so you didn’t let her win. It’s already late in the night when she finally gave in. Your mother kisses your cheek one last time after the doctor assessed your condition. Jeongyeon would stick around for the evening in her stead. Poor girl cried so much the moment she saw you widely awake.

Once it’s only the two of you left, Jeongyeon helped you sit on a wheelchair and wheeled you next to the window before she left to grab some extra bottled water. You can’t stand properly yet because of the wound on your leg so a wheelchair is necessary if you want to be mobile. You’re starting to feel the back pain after lying down for so long, you need to move. The doctor was a bit apprehensive about allowing you to leave your bed, but gave in when you promised to stay inside the room.

The moon, shining in all its glory, up in the dark sky looked so enticing, you had to take a closer look. The three days went by so fast and running through all that ensued leaves a sickening sensation down to your stomach. You shake your head, not wanting to relive the frightening memories.

Your attention goes back to the moon and one person comes to mind.

It makes you selfishly wonder if he ever visited once or asked and worried about you as you bring your hand up to your neck. When you don’t feel the lifebuoy pendant, your heart skips a beat. You then looked down to your hand, your engagement ring is also not on your finger. You frown, growing upset. They could have removed it, but it should be back to you by now. You looked around the room, hoping to find your precious gems within reach. Just in time before you could wheel yourself around to search for them, you hear the door open.

“Hey Jeongyeon, have you seen my necklace and ring?” You ask to the void as you tilt your head back to the moon.

When you don’t hear any answer other than the sound of heavy breathing, you remove your gaze from the window to see who came in if it’s not your assistant. To your surprise it’s no other than,

“Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo didn’t keep count of the exact times, but he knows how long and how much he begged just to hear your voice call his name once again. He didn’t even have the chance to change from his sweatpants and sleeveless shirt when he received the call from Soonyoung (whom Jeongyeon told to). Honestly? He didn’t bother at all because he just wanted to be right here at this moment.

To be with you.

He takes slow steps as he calms his breathing. Meanwhile, you remained seated and let him come to you. You’d run to him just like you did back then, but your leg wouldn’t appreciate that.

It felt like forever for Wonwoo to get to you. But when he finally drops on the floor and lightly rests his head on your lap, there’s no reason for him to complain anymore.

Your tears fall again for the nth time tonight. You caress his wet locks, probably from the mixture of his shower and sweat. He cries too because you can feel it seeping against the pants you’re wearing. He wraps his arms around your lap, careful from crashing his weight. You, on the other hand, bend your head down to kiss the crown of his head.

Both of your hearts are shouting, finally.

The beautiful moonlight shines on the two of you as you both silently settle down there for a moment, not giving a care in the world because this is just what you’ve been yearning for and you’re not allowing anyone nor anything to steal this away ever again.

Your long face doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo and he knows why you’re pulling it against him. But no, he is not falling for it. Instead he ignores your silent plea and continues tucking you back on the bed. You glance up at him and try to win him again with your attempt at puppy dog eyes and when he doesn’t, you give up.

“You know that this bed is too small to fit two bodies, Y/N,” he states the obvious and drags a chair to sit on. “I know you’re smart enough to see that.”

You huff and pull the covers closer to your chin. If it wasn’t for the wound on your shoulder, you’d turn your back against him.

Wonwoo just rolls his eyes at your antics and holds your hand under the warm blanket.

After your short reunion, Wonwoo decided to get you back to your bed because it was nearing one o’clock in the morning. You haven’t brought up what happened and it’s alright because you still have another chance to do so. Hopefully.

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo,” you whisper under your breath but his ears can hear your words.

He nods and kisses the back of your hand. “I know, baby. It’s not your fault.”

Baby.

You never use pet names or terms of endearment and hearing him say it for the first time almost made you faint. It’s an exaggeration but you’re weak at the moment and anything that flusters your heart can potentially weaken your whole body.

Wonwoo then brings something out from his pockets and your eyes brighten at the sight of the necklace he gave you. He chuckles when he sees your excited expression and stands up. His fingers tenderly graze the skin of your neck when he puts it back to where it rightfully belongs.

“I thought I lost it,” you say, holding the pendant between your fingers.

He sits back down and what he mutters next makes you feel a twinge of guilt.

“I thought I lost you.”

You sigh and coax him to you, grasping the hand enclosed to yours. “Come here.”

This time you let him take the small space on your bed. You sit up as well so that you can reach his height. He helps you and once you’re comfortably situated, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest.

Wonwoo smiles at your affection and lets his hand smooth against your hair. You have always been brave when it comes to touching him and he’ll never forget how you kissed him on the lips first. He’s so glad and relieved you’re finally awake. He doesn’t think he can go on for another day without you. And now that you’re holding each other like this, he wishes for this night to never end.

“I’ll probably not inherit the throne,” you say against his shirt. “I don’t think your family would want you to marry an abolished monarch.”

Wonwoo’s hand drops and he breathes out a disappointed sigh. He is not having this conversation with you right now. Why must you ruin the moment?

When you don’t feel his hand against you anymore, you look up and steal a kiss under his chin. However, that doesn’t suffice because he’s still upset and it’s evident on the frown adorning his handsome face.

“But I realized I love you, so if it means I have to beg all the way to their Majesties for your hand then—”

Wonwoo doesn’t let you continue and shuts you up with a searing kiss. He softly squeezes your cheeks with one of his hands, almost as if commanding you to pucker your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise but when he put his other hand at the side of your neck, you surrendered.

It’s no secret that you and Wonwoo kiss. Oftentimes they’re just quick brushes, but sometimes they get a little bit more intense, deeper. You won’t get into detail though, because that’s a story to tell for some other time.

For now, you eagerly meet Wonwoo’s passion as he lays you back down on the bed, of course with caution. He doesn’t fully drop his weight on top of you, one arm carrying his upper body while the other gingerly cupping one side of your face.

His chest is firm and his shoulder broad as you grip your hands on them and continue kissing him. You should be asleep by now because you are still recovering. But Wonwoo is a doctor himself, right? So if he took the initiative to kiss you until sunrise, then it must be alright.

Okay, maybe it’s wrong to mock his profession like that. But, you’re just grateful to kiss him like this again. Because the last time you shared one, tears were streaming down your face and you two were on the verge of breaking up.

“I should really put you to sleep now,” Wonwoo whispers against your lips, breathless.

You hold your laughter, still basking in his taste. When you open your eyes, Wonwoo is already hoisting himself back up. Your lips draw into a pout again and the cause of it just rolls his eyes.

“I promise there will be more, but for now rest, okay?” He pinches your cheek lightly and sits back on the chair.

“You can take the couch,” you tell him.

“Sleep, Y/N.”

You no longer defy and close your eyes.

You remember the first time he commanded you those words and looking back, they are all fond memories of your then developing relationship. There were many questions when you and Wonwoo got along so well and so fast. There were many doubts and insecurities. The two of you shared those in silence, which could have endangered your hearts. However, even though your relationship was shaken and tested, the two of you persevered.

For you, Wonwoo persevered and words and actions are not enough to thank him. You couldn’t have overcome this without his support and patience. So from now on, against all odds, you’ll do exactly the same.

#seventeen #wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenario #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #wonwoo fanfic #seventin fanfic #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #fic: ifliys

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un2-verse · 3 years

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BILLY — Kim Taehyung (2)

pairing: taehyung x f reader

genre: horror au, yandere au, saw/john kramer au

synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughs, abusive relationships, stalking etc. dont read if triggered. there are some ?? fucked up things in this but idk what to word them. but also mentions of self harm/self hating thoughts.

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: unedited so pls forgive me for any mistakes and lmk if u want to be added to a taglist^^

series masterlist

part one part three

You’d spent a couple of hours in the café with Taehyung. Jimin popped over every now and then to talk with his best friend and to make sure you had everything you needed while there.

When you left, Jimin wrapped his arms around you as he bid his farewell, “It was lovely to meet you Y/N! Please, don’t be a stranger!” You simply nodded your head as you pulled away from the hug. You grinned back at him as he moved to Taehyung. You opened the door, carefully stepping outside to leave the boys with some privacy.

Once the door shut Jimin’s smile beamed, “so she’s the girl you’re always talking about, Flower? Right?”

“Yeah she is, thanks for that though man but, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

Taehyung smiled as he made his way towards you, you looked up and he swore, he saw a hint of nervousness in your eyes, probably because it’s dark, he thought to himself. “Come on then, let’s get you home.” He held out his hand, you were quick to grab a hold of it. Taehyung intertwined your fingers as he tugged you back across the road, “it’ll take about twenty minutes, you gonna be alright to walk?” he glanced down to you.

Your heart warmed at the way his eyes smiled with him, “I’ll be fine, thank you.” He seemed happy enough with your answer as you fell into a steady rhythm. You felt a little conflicted, you may not know Taehyung well but he had an energy about him that made you wanna spill every secret you knew, you’d shared pointless stories while you were at the café, having learnt Taehyung was a family oriented person, he loved art and he was passionate about little subjects other people would deem small. Yet he had a warmth that you’d not seen in anyone else.

Fuck it, you thought, he’s shown nothing but kindness, you may aswell open upto him… atleast.

“I was in an abusive relationship.” Taehyung felt himself smirk but quickly wiped it from his face, he arched an eyebrow as he looked down to you, “it was my first too. It left me, fucked up, in a way. Not that I wasn’t already fucked up.” Progress. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, go on… “I’ve always been insecure and uh, uncomfortable with the way I look. After that disaster of a relationship, it left me worse for wear.” you kept your eyes on the road, you didn’t want to see the judgement on his face yet it didn’t stop you from carrying on, “I never told my friends or family about it. None of them knew I was struggling before it anyway so I’ve been letting it tear me apart.”

“Why tell me then doll?”

You risked a glance at his face. There were no traces of judgement or pity. Swallowing down your nerves, you added softly, “I had to tell someone. Even if that someone is a random person— who showed me kindness when I needed it.”

Taehyung felt his heart clench, she’s already trusting me… this was easier than I thought. “Don’t feel like you need to tell me anything baby,” I already know it all.

You felt your cheeks burn from the pet name, how could something so simple, affect you this much? God, talk about a schoolgirl crush. “That’s the thing, I don’t feel like I need to. I just, I want to.”

Taehyung presented you with his boxy grin, “Then you can tell me anything you want, whether it's big or small.”

“Thank you Taehyung.” It was like the sun had shone down on you, the simplest gesture meant the world. Here you had a person willing to talk to you about your darkest secrets. A person willing to listen. Someone who had no ties to your family, which made it easier for the words to flow from you, “It’s like, I was this happy, care-free kid. I smiled without forcing it and when I laughed… I felt free. I didn’t feel like I was losing my breath. Not like I do now, everytime I do so much as breathe, it's like these roots have twisted around my lungs and everytime a breath escapes, they crush them tighter. It’s like a reminder. You’re never fully alive. You’re never fully happy. Pain overrides any other emotion. I’ve learned that, after all those years. I used to think, I’d never accept it.” A solemn silence fell over you. The roots squeezed your lungs even tighter as you whispered, “I’m scared of living.”

“Flower, some people are anchored to this world by their feet, others by their fears. You don’t have to voice it, I know you’re scared. You have your fears. Your demons. The thing you were doing at the cafe; is destructive. Anything that harms you, is destructive. Fuck, it may only be something as simple as picking your skin but that can lead into bigger things.”

It already has.

“Taehyung, I know that. I knew when it started but it helps, it lessens my anxiety. You’re the only one to have picked up on it. My friends… they don’t notice. If they do, they don’t mention it.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?”

Your mouth was sewn shut. You didn’t want to admit it but, there was some truth to his words.

You walked home in silence.

That night haunted you. It forced its way into your dreams. It clouded your thoughts when Yoongi and Hoseok were with you. When you’d spent time together, you were vacant. A soulless body. It was like a poison had found its way into your brain, second guessing relationships and people’s motives.

‘You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?’

Why were you letting it get in your head so much? You knew your friends. They were the only ones you felt safe with. They were your friends for a reason, they supported you (albeit sometimes they had a sense of… tough love) but they always had your back.

You didn’t mention Taehyung to Yoongi or Hoseok. You felt as though that was something that should be kept between you and him. Plus, the duo would’ve felt betrayed and upset by the fact you had wandered into foreign territory alone and found company in a complete stranger-- especially after they’d warned you about the whole Jigsaw shit.

To save the arguments, you went about your life as usual. You helped out your Mum with the flower shop, the array of flowers made you realise how the simplest things were beautiful. That of course, didn’t include yourself. Rancid thoughts clouded what was once, a tranquil space. Those god forsaken roots hadn’t lessened. Breathing was still difficult— as was pretending that you were absolutely fine.

You avoided mirrors, a quick glance could wreck your entire mood. You hated people taking photos of you, it made you scrutinise every single thing.

My nose is too big.

My chin is too round.

My face just shouts ugly.

My legs are disgusting.

My stomach is embarrassing.

My boobs are weird.

Not to say, you didn’t have these thoughts on the regular. However, the more you eluded your appearance, the voices lessened. You could ignore the way you looked, forget it completely. Often convinced yourself you were a plain person. The stereotypical norm: someone that no one would look twice at. It helped you get on with everyday tasks, it helped you ease the anxiety.

After all, every flower must grow through dirt.

But how would you react? If you knew, he had all the pictures of you?

Tuesdays you worked at your Dad’s garage. You didn’t know much about cars but you enjoyed his company. As well as spending time with Hobi and Yoongi. You often found yourself pranking the former with Yoongi, little jokes that luckily, didn’t piss Hobi off too much.

Today though, you were late. You’d had to spend more time trying to find the more appropriate clothing… you didn’t want people to see the slashed lines of red that littered your body.

After you messily threw an outfit together, you made your way down to the garage. You found your eyes trained on the silver Nissan Skyline, mouth agape as you collided into something.

You felt hands grab your shoulders, “Watch where you’re going,” Yoongi brought his hands to ruffle your hair, “gotta be careful while we’ve got that here kidda. That fuckers expensive.” He released a chuckle as you rolled your eyes, softly elbowing him out the way.

Your dad was under the bonnet, a box of tools were scattered around his feet. Organised mess, your Dad was infamous for it.

“Sorry I’m late Pops, what do you want me to do?”

Not even a second later, your Dad turned to face you, “Ah darling, not a lot while we’re working on this. Can you go make us some drinks?”

“Yeah course, I won’t be too long!”

You passed Hoseok on your way to the little kitchen situated at the back, he sent you a wink as he shouted across, “Coffee for me kidda!”

Three cups were spread in front of you. Americano for Yoongi, Coffee for Hobi and Cappuchino for Pops. Just as you were about to shout the guys, a presence had situated itself comfortably behind you. Before you had time to turn around, a deep baritone voice addressed you, “You not gonna ask me if I want a cup baby?”

You felt yourself still. You knew that voice. The voice that was haunting your dreams, even your wake.

You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?

Taehyung watched the way your body tensed, your shoulders stiffened, your breathing altered. Hm, she’s nervous. How cute.

“What are you doing here?” the words passed your lips, delivered as though they were encased in thorns.

A deep chuckle filled the room, “What do you think I’m doing here?” Taehyung inched closer, the atmosphere was almost palpable. You felt the way his chest brushed against your back, a sudden chill shot through you as he brought his hand up— which grazed against your skin whilst he moved your hair from your neck. His eyes turned hungry at the sight of your goosebumps. Your heart raced when he brought his head lower, lips next to your ear, “You think I’m here for you baby?” I am… but you don’t need to know that just yet.

You spun around, squashed between the table and Taehyung. Heat radiated off of him, how can he be so hot? It felt like you were in a furnace (while face to face with the Devil.)

Fear stricken, you tried to fight through it. Don’t show him. Don’t let him see. With a sarcastic smile plastered on your face you retorted, “Of course you are Taehyung. You tracked me down using the information I gave you and figured out which Garage is ours.”

The sarcasm was practically dripping from your tone like venom. Taehyung felt himself stifle a laugh.

You just didn’t know. In all fairness, you didn’t know anything. How would you know that Taehyung had done exactly that, except he’d done it months prior.

He lowered his head to yours, your hands raised to push him away but Taehyung wrapped his fingers around each wrist and tugged them to lay between you before you even had the chance to nudge him. You felt like you were stuck in a Venus fly trap.

“I’m not some type of sicko, doll.”

You were just a naive, misunderstood, little girl.

“I’m getting my car fixed. Your dad’s working on it right now.”

Your body visibly relaxed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh, the Skyline? Wait, you have a car and made us walk back to mine the other week?”

“I didn’t make you walk for the fun of it baby, my car is literally in the shop so obviously it was broken.”

Only, the car was perfectly fine when you met him those weeks ago. He had made the pair of you walk so he’d have more of a chance to speak to you and to touch you. The only way he could follow you around without being suspicious, especially at your dads work, was to have a somewhat reasonable excuse (which resulted in him messing with the engine). He knew although you’d shied away from him that night, he could easily win you back around.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Taehyung. I’m also uh, sorry about how that night ended.”

“Don’t sweat it, I know what I said came off a little... weird but I didn’t mean any harm.”

With an angelic smile on your face in return, Taehyung knew that soon, that smile would morph into a grateful one. After all, he was going to help you.

Until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Live or Die.

Your choice.

He had first seen you out and about last year. However, he had first heard of you when the guys working for him had slammed a file onto his desk, Subject #13 was scrawled on the top. Filled to the brim with pictures of you and everything about your life down to the littlest detail.

L/N Y/N— D.O.B 03.11.02— 19 years old.

Phone number: XXXXX.XXXXX

Female. Lives with parents at: 171 Norm Street, Falfield F91 7DW. Was outcasted at school but befriended a Jeon Jeongguk [19 years, male. 92 Carriers Road, Cressage CY5 3EA. XXXXX.XXXXX].

Ex partner is Kang Jaehyo. [23 years. Male. Abusive and manipulative, laid his hands on Y/N multiple times leaving bruises and scars. Sexual abuse was also discovered. Have been broken up for 4 months. 13 Walkers Drive, Falfield, F73 1DL XXXXX.XXXXX]

Y/N has suicidal ideations (as well as 7 attempts). Self harms by “cutting” “punching” and “scratching”. Diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety Disorder on May 13th 2016. Works at Toret Garage and Letty’s Floral. Both places owned by parents.

The web of lies and deceit had barely scraped the surface.

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erazonpo3 · 3 years

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Lost Legends

Okay so I read Lost Legends: The Rise of Flynn Rider and general thoughts? It was cute and fun, and I have gripes here and there but I can still recommend it. I don't want to compare it to WOWM because it's like apples and oranges but Lost Legends wins points for me by actually acknowledging the TTS storyline and characters, even though it's kinda brief and not quite as... entertaining.

And before I go into the in-depth spoiler review I'll jot down a few thoughts here: there's a lot to be said about tie-in media and 'canon', but where I think it becomes contentious is where two pieces contradict each other, and whether those contradictions necessitate a canonical hierarchy or cancel something out completely. And the reason I'm bringing this up is because while LL borrows TTS lore it also contradicts it? which is. ironic.

but i'll get into that. Spoilers ahead

Basic Summary of The Plot

Our story starts at the Dark Kingdom, with a short prologue. It's all stuff we already know from the series: King Edmund tries to grab the moonstone, his wife dies, Eugene gets sent away for his own safety. What's funny is that Ms Queen still doesn't get a name, but her Lady in Waiting/Handmaiden gets a name (Maeve), and it's Maeve who really drops the ball on dropping Eugene off at an orphanage instead of raising him as Prince Horace. Go girl give us nothing

And from here the LL timeline begins, as Eugene and Arnie are now twelve year olds (I think?) in an orphanage in Corona. Which is the first contradiction to 'canon' but shelve that thought for now. Eugene and Arnie are good little boys but they're getting too old to keep hanging around and the orphanage needs money for the evil Tax Man, so they decide they'll go off into the world and send some money back when they're rich off their famous adventuring. What happens instead is that The Baron's circus rolls into town (yes that Baron) and Eugene and Arnie decide to try their luck signing up for that gig.

To prove themselves to the Baron, Flynn and Lance have to perform a hazing ritual a heist. The heist is literally just to buy a key from the Weasel but it plays out as this huge dramatic thing with a guard chase which is eternally funny to me because two kids walk into a bar, buy a key and then leave, and it's treated like fucking ocean's eleven. The Stabbingtons try to betray them (those guys are here too) but Flynn and Lance outsmart them, beginning a rivalry for the ages. Also, the pub thugs are all part of the Baron's circus crew. Don't think about it too much.

Anyway, as this has all been going down, Eugene is really interested in getting to talk to this guy with a tattoo of (what we as the audience know is) the brotherhood symbol, which Eugene recognises from the note left with him as a baby. He wants to talk to this dude in the hopes he'll get a clue about who his parents are, but this dude keeps eluding him. He also hasn't had a chance to tell Lance about this yet, so when Lance finds out about it he assumes Eugene only tried to rope him into the circus so he could find his parents and ditch him. Cue an ongoing silent treatment.

Eugene eventually does talk to this guy and he learns that the Brotherhood symbol is from the Dark Kingdom but the Dark Kingdom is gone so he shouldn't bother looking for it. Bummer. And now the Baron is planning a huge heist of the reward money for the Lost Princess' return, and Eugene is getting cold feet. He's been okay with a little bit of thievery so far but this feels like too much for him, and he's not okay with pulling it off but Lance still won't talk to him.

As the plan unfolds, Lance and Eugene reconcile and then they work together to betray the Baron and return the stolen treasure that they stole back to the King and Queen. They get caught by the Baron, escape, then get caught by the guards, but it's okay because they're presented to the King and Queen and when Eugene explains that they felt really sorry about it and promise not to do it again they're let go. And so the story ends on a high note.

My Thots™

Okay so here are the thoughts

Canon Compliance?

The obvious takeaway here is that this story offers you a beautiful pie in the form of the characters you know and love and the established lore, then shoves the pie in your face with things like "Eugene already knows the Dark Kingdom and the Moonstone exist but he never brings this up" and "Eugene betrays the Baron in a very significant way but somehow they'll make up and he and Stalyan will get engaged". Which means that if the integrity of the series is important to you, you'll probably just mentally cross out Eugene knowing about the Brohood/DK/Moonstone.

And imo that's fine! My own approach to this story is a kind of general 'if it works it works, if it doesn't I'll leave it' thing to work my own headcanons around. Because there's a lot of fun things to pluck from, like a new ex-Brotherhood member and other characters that could pop up from Eugene's past and other worldbuilding details.

The Story

The story was pretty short and obviously very tailored towards a younger audience, but it still felt kind of... slow? Mostly because nothing particularly exciting is happening until the big heist and even that feels pretty underwhelming. And of course I don't expect a story like this to be particularly complex and can appreciate its simplicity, but I felt like if it had been longer there could have been more twists to keep things interesting.

For example, the Baron is set up as a character not unlike Gothel, who lavishes praise upon the boys and goes on about how they're 'family' but is obviously just manipulating them and would throw them to the wolves in a heartbeat. Eugene underestimates just how criminal the Baron is, but at no point in the story does the doubt we have in the Baron's sincerity ever amount to anything- Eugene only turns against him because he has a morality crisis, which I'll get to in a minute.

Misc. Thoughts

Okay so one thing I thought was really cute was that each chapter has a little 'quote' from a Flynnigan Rider book, and I wrote them all down so if you've read this far and want me to post those separately lemme know. Anyway I just thought it was a very cute touch.

An honourable mention goes to every time Stalyan shows up, she doesn't really do anything in the story yet still is somehow the only character holding the brain cell. Rapunzel gets an indirect cameo by Lance and Eugene stumbling upon her tower and going "Whoa that's Crazy. Anyway. " which is amazing, and Cassandra even gets a little mention by the Captain! And to answer the question nobody asked, there's a chameleon running around Corona because she's an escapee from the circus, and Pascal's mom's name is Amélie!

Characters - okay really just Eugene

Eugene/Flynn is the title character of the book and we get the story exclusively from his POV, so there isn't a lot to say about Lance. On the one hand while I can acknowledge that this is a story about Flynn, not Lance, there's a few choices that feel like a missed opportunity at best given that this book really was an opportunity to explore Lance's character in a way the series never really does.

And it feels extra egregious when the plot demands conflict between Eugene and Lance, because while the emotion between them is engaging when it's happening, at other times it just feels like a convenient way to shove Lance offscreen again. (As a side note, as contrived as the conflict is these are also two twelve year old boys so. Can't blame em too much).

Also, Eugene coming up with the name "Lance Strongbow" on Lance's behalf while he's unconscious is one of those backstory things I'm not going to be acknowledging, thank you.

The Robin Hood Dilemma

Something I touched on after reading What Once Was Mine is that Eugene's characterisation prior to the movie isn't something writers seem to really like... dealing with. And it kind of makes sense that the author received a lot of characterisation notes from Chris Sonnenburg, because little Flynn does feel very similar to the Eugene we know; only the Eugene we know is an adult man who has since grown out of his Flynn Rider persona. But the Flynn Rider persona he needed to grow out of isn't something that ought to be cast aside entirely!! Stop being cowards!!

Taking a step back, the whole premise of the book is kind of a paradox- because Eugene needs to become Flynn Rider before he can learn to embrace his authentic self, but Flynn Rider isn't hero material, he isn't a good guy, he's not the right protagonist for a story for kids. So what we get isn't Flynn Rider, it's really just Eugene trying on a new name. That works for the beginning of the story, because he is just Eugene trying on a new name, but he doesn't grow into it.

At the beginning of the story, Eugene is an orphan in a poor but still functional orphanage run by a kind old lady, and he is surrounded by nice little boys. Eugene is motivated to leave and get a job by a desire to send funds back to the orphanage, and when he joins the Baron's circus he's taken aback to learn he's among thieves. Here's where I thought: okay, this might get interesting. We might be getting a G-rated 'angel falls from heaven' story about Eugene being morally corrupted by the Baron, of learning that the world outside is tough and he needs to look out for himself first and foremost-

but no. The Baron shares his plan to steal the reward money for the Lost Princess, because all the people he's surrounded himself with are already criminals who don't give a shit, but Eugene thinks that this is going too far! What about that poor lost princess who people need an incentive to search for? (he's like, projecting about his own parent issues which is fair, but still). And so the story ends with Eugene turning on the Baron to return the money to the "right" people (aka the king and queen of a kingdom?? okay) but he takes a single golden egg for himself so he can send it to the orphanage.

Which is all sweet and nice but. He still has to become Flynn Rider, asshole extraordinaire. He still has to lose his morals to the point where he'd take an inexperienced young woman to a pub that he, in this book, recognises is a dangerous place in the hopes that he can ditch her. He still has to go and become a wanted thief and rejoin the Baron and then ditch Stalyan on their wedding night.

The reason I'm going on about this so much is that the appeal of Eugene to me is that he is this good guy who wants to be a better person for the people he loves, but that means recognising that he has behaviour he needs to change, and his development is meaningful for that. Watering him down to a righteous Robin Hood hero does him a disservice.

The Real Villain Was Capitalism All Along

I will not elaborate nor should I

#hi i do book reviews now #sorry if you came here for anything else this is who i (cringe) am

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justforbooks · 3 years

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Micro-Reading: 3 Books You Should Read Incredibly Slowly

Five minutes of reading for a disproportionate amount of wisdom.

I’m not a voracious reader. I’m a slow reader. I like to take my time to absorb the lessons and really implement everything I read.

According to Buddhism, there are three levels of wisdom.

Received Wisdom: When someone shares something with you, at that level, it’s called received wisdom. A person with blind faith in anything only reaches this level of wisdom.

Intellectual Wisdom: When you intellectualize and understand the received wisdom, it turns into intellectual wisdom. This is the level of wisdom you achieve when you read a book.

Experiential Wisdom: This level of wisdom is when a person becomes truly wise. When you practice the intellectual wisdom in real life, and it rewires your subconscious, only then can the wisdom bring any change to your life.

Intellectually, we’re very wise. We know a lot. Yet, a good life eludes most of us. The reason is that when you become intellectually wise about anything, only the conscious part of your brain is affected.

However, the conscious part of the brain accounts for only 5% of your life. 95% of your life operates from the subconscious. Hence, you can read all you want, but unless you rewire your subconscious, your life won’t change much.

And how do you rewire your subconscious? Simple. Practice. When you learn a lesson, you need to practice it hundreds and thousands of times before the lessons get wired in your subconscious; before the lesson truly becomes a part of your life. Simply put, converting intellectual wisdom to experiential wisdom is a slow process.

For the above reason, I’m a fan of slow-reading when it comes to learning. I don’t read slowly when I’m reading for pleasure. But when it comes to reading to learn, I personally prefer being a turtle rather than a hare.

And by reading slowly, I mean nothing more than allowing some breathing space to actually contemplate the lessons. And perhaps rereading the difficult ones. Or making notes to dissect and understand them better. And in the end, practising them in real life, to start the excruciatingly slow process of rewiring your subconscious.

Hence, in the interest of reading slow, I want to share with you three wisdom dense books that have small digestible chapters. I recommend that you read these books one lesson per day and spend the rest of your day contemplating and practising the lessons so that they get entangled within your neurons.

The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday

Stoicism is a philosophy founded by Zeno. While the image of a Zen philosopher is someone who’s detached from the world, meditating in the mountains, the Stoics are an antithesis of this idea.

“Instead,” says Ryan Holiday, “they are the man in the marketplace, the senator in the Forum, the brave wife waiting for her soldier to return from battle, the sculptor busy in her studio. Still, the stoic is equally at peace.”

Ryan Holiday, the author of this book is an incredibly successful writer. Even though he probably reads a lot, I assume (and he would agree) that 99% of all of his success, happiness, and tranquillity come from Stoicism. Hence, if you master the stoic lessons, and not read any other books, you can still live a pretty good life.

The Daily Stoic shares 366 lessons, one for each day of the year. Ryan wants us to read one lesson per day, contemplate on it as much as we can throughout the day, and really master it.

In essence, it’s like doing a year-long course on Stoicism for less than one minute a day.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Discipline Equals Freedom by Jocko Willink

Jocko Willink is the most badass Navy SEAL of all time. In this book which he calls a field manual, Jocko shares his thoughts on what he thinks is the most important skill ever: discipline.

Think about it. Soldiers are infinitely more disciplined than their civilian counterparts. And even among the soldiers, there’s got to be someone who tops the charts. Jocko Willing is that guy.

When you think about it, discipline is everything. It can help you live a pretty good life by helping you achieve your most ambitious goals. Hence, this book is a must-have for each and every one of us. Read the lessons again and again until Jocko’s thoughts become yours.

“Motivation is fickle. It comes and goes. It is unreliable and when you are counting on motivation to get your goals accomplished — you will likely fall short.”

Zen Pencils by Galvin Aung Than

Zen Pencils is a wonderful book. When Galvin was struggling in his career as a cartoonist, he used to motivate himself using many inspirational quotes and stories. And then he had a wonderful idea which led to the birth of Zen pencils.

Galvin took the very quotes that inspired him to change his life, and combined those with his love for drawing, giving birth to Zen Pencils. In this book, through the medium of eye-delicious comics, Galvin shares many important life lessons.

The series has two books and both are amazing. You’ll want to rush through the book and finish it quickly, which you can. But after doing that, I highly recommend coming back to the book to read one comic per day.

I often read a comic when I’m low or feeling overwhelmed, and it helps cheer me up while at the same time inspires me to live a better life. I’m sure it will do the same for you.

Final Words

All of these books lie on my study table at all times and I carry them with me when I travel. This is how I like to read these books —

Right after waking up — a lesson from The Daily Stoic.

A comic from Zen Pencils anytime during the day.

A lesson from Discipline Equals Freedom right before sleeping so that it also inspires me to go to bed on time.

All of this reading does not take more than five minutes of your day but still leads to you absorbing a disproportionate amount of wisdom. Hence, it’s a process too good to not try out. I hope you give it a shot!

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS

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hiriajuu-suffering · 3 years

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Reasons I believe in Polyamory

I’ll preface this by saying I’m not attractive enough to be able to have more than a single partner at once, but there is a reason for that, and really, the thesis of this wall of text below: heteronormative relationship standards in every culture have always been, and will continue to always be, more about possession than love in a post-imperialistic world.

Personally, I’m a huge proponent of engendered sexuality variance to the tone of males have a constant slow drip of libido and a female’s sex drive hits them like a freight train once a month (in mammalian bioepigenetics, this makes sense). I’m inclined to infer, because I’m not idyllically normatively attractive, only a fraction of a percentage of women will be attracted to me 24-27 days of any given month. As a cisgendered man who is regrettably straight, having the least attractive genoethnic identity intersection (South Asian Muslim) in Western culture, I’m never actually presented with the choices to act on a poly mindset (in fact, I would be ridiculed for it because people think it aligns with some other gross tribal stereotype when it couldn’t be further from the truth). In retrospect, I have everything to gain from interpreting the main benefit of an intimate relationship as ownership like heteronormative culture generally does yet I still think disavowing poly as a legitimate personal choice is immoral.

I know saying monogamous relationships are more about possession than love will offend lots of people, so before you throw hate at me for your emotionally defensive skepticism, hear me out. An unflinching, unyielding love is seen as the highest parameter in any type of romance. So why is it cheating is so much of a bigger problem than a dry spell specifically? Is it because it’s legitimately a breach of trust, or is it more about “if I can’t have you, no one can”? More importantly, does it go a step further and say “if I don’t want you, no one should”? To me, any sort of dry spell (whether physically, emotionally, mentally) signifies a much larger breach of trust than simply having been shared because it shows said commitment in the relationship was not unflinching, not unyielding. The monogamous lens looks at others like: I want to have the best partner, not just so that I’m happy, but no one else can receive the specific happiness I get. Doesn’t that whole mindset come off as brutish? Just me? Well, maybe your pitchforks will start coming down when you realize monogamy is a function of toxic patriarchy on both feminine and masculine ends.

There are bioevolutionary reasons for toxic femininity to value the possession aspect of a relationship over its substantive “quality of life” components, the birth-giving gender in any animalistic specie always had to be beheld to a provider they reproduce with. Does it not then represent a sense of feminine fragility when a single mother immediately demands a long-term relationship and nothing else? If I’m to believe said woman is capable of genuine lust in her system, having a child shouldn’t evaporate all carnal desires completely and, therefore, should leave room for compromise. Said stance also indicates she made some sort of error in judgment of her chosen reproductive mate and feels entitled another man ought remedy her strife even though, evolutionarily speaking, he has nothing to gain from helping to rear offspring not of his kin. Harsh, to be sure, but it does show in the obnoxiousness of the connotation of becoming a stepdad being a positive one and becoming a stepmom assumes the motivation of some gain in status (wealth, fame, power, etc.) which I would argue is negative. Where does toxic masculinity come into play? Desire for possession on the part of a male promotes the viability and exclusivity of his own children with his most desirable partner. While that’s damn near nowhere as compelling, it has to be stated because there are always two benefactors to patriarchy. Patriarchy is not a zero sum game, patriarchy seeks to concentrate all familial social benefits in the monogamously-driven, heteronormative genus, away from those who deviate from the ideal picture of stereotypical gender roles. The ill effects of patriarchal standards exist in every human civilization, but the ontological root to the specific brand of patriarchy that oppresses all genders today was spread by a culture that uniquely preached monogamy.

Polygamy, in a historical sense, was a testament to the more status a person of the provider gender could achieve, the more their genetics would proliferate. Many cultures globally practiced this, the issue is, the ones that didn’t were the ones who, often violently, “conquered” the ones that did. Christian fundamentalism is in every fiber of international morality, whether the nation in question believes in Christianity or not is often irrelevant. Monogamy is enforced, anything outside of that is deemed as necessarily being deviant (whether choosing to be alone or choosing more connections than a monocule). Fetishization of the step relation is eluding to this deviance in a not-so-subtle way because it’s something where its allure is derived from its forbiddenness moreso than its convenience, every one of these scenarios has a subtext of implicit gain, not loss, in engagement. Meaning, the idea is planted because a hot person is there not because a person in general is there and can satiate an urge. Tl;dr - we believe polyamory is a morally negative act because the Holy Roman Empire did and every nation that spawned from it spread, imparted, and coerced that ideal on every culture it came into contact with. Before the Holy Roman Empire, no historical documents made distinctions to behest multiple lovers as desanctifying of life itself, not even the coalescing of nations that made up the Holy Roman Empire before its inception.

We are now in an era when women have access to full reproductive control, yet we still see men lust more than women, e.g. archetypal lesbian tendencies versus archetypal gay male tendencies. Do we not question why this is the case? All lifeforms are hardwired with a desire to survive and reproduce, so why does that drive not reach equity when risk does? There are two answers, and it could even be both: women are only socially conditioned to have sex via patriarchal pressures and don’t have as much inherent desire to reproduce OR sex is a means-to-an-end to exclusively possess a desired provider, whatever said person provides. If said person has a trait valuable enough to want to possess, is it not self-contrived to keep that quality to oneself, not share it with the world where it can provide more utility? Heteronormative relationships, in a sense, are anti-altruistic at their very core. As facetious as this sounds, either of these trains of thought are validated by men being more willing to engage in polyamory than women, not because men are somehow any less loyal than women. On its own, I feel this line of reasoning is enough to justify a vehement disgust of polyamory as immoral, but I want to conclude on the most pivotal facet to this conversation and not just heavily imply monogamy encroachment on moral turpitude is problematic at best.

As I mentioned a few times, I am likely to be a spoke on a polycule, not a member with multiple connections. Exclusive possession is something I probably stand more to gain from than any woman, logically and realistically, given the current social climate and general global beauty standards. My advocacy of polyamory stems from me accepting I may not be enough to be the full extent of happiness my romantic interest desires. That doesn’t even come from a place of insecurity, it comes from a place knowing I could never be perfect even if its pursuit is a righteous cause. I see real insecurity as a fear of loss when the rules of engagement you put into place were exclusivity: you don’t want your partner looking at anyone else because it’s disadvantageous to you, meaning you’re not fixated on their best interest and looking at relationships in said manner is deliberately selfish. To me, the best frame of reference to morality in interpersonal social connections is altruism. Yeah, self-love is important and knowing your own boundaries is beneficial but everyone else’s boundaries don’t have to match yours. I’m not anti-monogamist, really. I’m more anti-polyamorist discontent.

Not having thought this deeply isn’t an excuse, either.

#personal #polyamory #polyamourous #polyandry #polycule #polyam life #polyam relationship #polyamourus pride #polyam tag #polyamorous #polyamoury #polyamorus

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

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illicit affairs [the woods 2/4]

No one ever tells you that picking up the pieces takes longer than shattering them

Word Count: 3.657

Warnings: heavy angst, mentions of death and death-related themes, descriptions of a memorial service.

A/N: Thank you to every one that sent me some love on exile! I'm truly grateful for your comments and I hope you like what's coming up on this story. Special thanks to the always wonderful @xbuchananbarnes for helping me out with this. The banner picture was found here. Dividers are from @writeyourmindaway ♡

and you know damn well for you, i would ruin myself a million little times

Working for Nick Fury sometimes made you sick to your stomach.

"That's very old school of you," you said, taking a sip from your coffee. The styrofoam cup was hot to the point of almost burning your fingertips, but having something on your hands kept you from twisting them nervously.

Nick raised an eyebrow - the one you could see, at least - and drank from his own cup.

"Your father always said I had a flair for the dramatic."

"Humph," you muttered as Nick rolled down the steel door of the storage unit. "Do you think he would believe your conspiracy theory?"

He shrugged, black leather duster coat swooshing in the wind.

"Your father was a soldier and a spy," he stated. "One of the best, I must say. He believed in his orders as long as he could question them. So yes, I think he would engage my conspiracy theory, as you put it."

You refrained from comment. That was Nick's way: mention your father enough times to instigate your grief, just enough to loosen your morals. The shame was on you for allowing him - even if his suspicion of an undercover plot inside S.H.I.E.L.D. fascinated your curiosity.

“Can I ask what made you start questioning your own Agency?” you mumbled under your breath as you and Nick made your way to his SUV. The sun was slowly dragging it’s hues across the inky sky, the stars fading as the golden light came to be.

“When Stark hacked the Helicarier’s systems there were some… Inconsistencies,” Nick replied. “Which naturally spiked my curiosity.”

“Naturally,” you smirked.

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you that this is not an official assignment, Agent Y/L/N,” he said.

“No, sir,” you shook your head.

“Good,” he pressed a button and the car doors unlocked. “Besides, I’m sure Captain Rogers’ presence in Washington will… Stimulate the inconsistencies we’re looking for.”

“Shit,” you cursed. “That was today?”

Nick tapped the clock on the car’s navigation panel.

“He’ll be at headquarters at nine. I expect you to be there.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

Nick nodded.

“How is your grandmother?” he asked. “Is the treatment working?”

“She’s doing a round of chemo every forty days,” you clicked the seat belt tip in the buckle. “She’s stable, but, you know, it’s cancer. I visit her every weekend, though.”

“Are you sure you can’t convince her to move to the city?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “She’s never gonna leave the woods, Nick. Can you even imagine my grandmother living in D.C.?”

A discreet smile played in the corner of your boss’ lips.

“I couldn’t imagine you living in D.C., yet here you are.”

You didn’t reply, choosing to sip your coffee instead. Nick turned the radio on as he drove off the storage lot and a playlist of Stevie Wonder’s greatest hits was your soundtrack on the journey back to the city. Daylight was high in the sky when the SUV reached the Triskelion, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s colossal headquarters sitting right in the middle of the Potomac.

It was just past seven, but already the premises were bustling with people. You supposed that’s what happens when a superhero starts his first day on the job - people show up early, wearing their best clothes and flawless makeup.

“What the hell,” Nick muttered. “This is an Intelligence Agency, not a fashion show.”

You stifled a laugh.

“You can’t complain about motivation in the workplace now, boss.”

Nick shot you a dirty look.

“My office. Nine A.M. Don’t be late.”

You mock saluted him then went on to find some breakfast.

Natasha Romanoff’s memorial service was held on a balmy December morning, at a Christian Orthodox church in Brooklyn.

All the time you’ve known her, Natasha had never mentioned religion and you were positive that she would’ve cracked two or three jokes about the priest’s monotonous speaking if she were there. Only she wasn’t, and all she left behind was a handful of grieving acquaintances.

There was no body to keep vigil over or bury. In between the thousand of unsaid words between you and Steve, the subject of Natasha’s death lingered. He tried to explain, as he did to so many other things, and maybe you would’ve understood if you just tried to be better at listening - tried harder to make sense of the incredible mess reality had become. Apparently it’s not easy to retrieve a corpse when the person actually died on an alien planet almost ten years ago.

Natasha’s beautiful face smiled at you from a portrait sitting at the altar. Her hair was longer, cascading down her shoulders in fiery red waves that curled into blonde ends. The shadow of a smile on the corner of her lips couldn’t elude the sadness lingering in her eyes. Even so, she hadn’t aged a day since the last time you saw her, in a time so distant it felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else’s existence instead of your own.

Remembering 2016 felt like being dunked in ice water. Like the time you jumped into the frozen pond in the woods and opened your eyes underneath the stream, catching the twisted, milky sunlight. Looking back at that life - so peaceful despite all the trouble that surrounded it - was equally as numbing.

It was announced to the general public that the woman known as Black Widow bravely sacrificed her life during what was now being called the Battle of the Earth. Yet, when Steve called two days earlier saying that there would be a private service for Natasha's family members, you wept - not so much because a service meant that she was well and truly gone, but because she thought you were her family.

You met her at S.H.I.E.L.D., of course. Even before you crumbled to dust, you’d constantly wonder how different things would’ve been if you’d never let stupid Jimmy Rodriguéz’s words get to you. If you’d just ignored his taunts instead of hacking S.H.I.E.L.D’s database just to prove him you were smart enough to do it, maybe then an old friend your father never bothered to mention wouldn’t have come to your house in the middle of the night, saying that if you could bypass government-patented digital security, then you should move to D.C. and work for him. You would’ve never left the woods, never traded it for the tangled webs of secrets and deceptions a job as an intelligence programmer proved to be.

Perhaps then you wouldn’t be here, sharing a pew with Steve Rogers - the only man you’d ever loved and probably ever would. Perhaps you would’ve met someone else: a nice, normal, maybe even a tad boring guy, but you wouldn’t care because you wouldn’t be very interesting either - just a nice, normal, maybe even a tad boring girl. And the two of you would be ordinary, kissing goodbye in the morning and hello in the evenings, with the ever present assurance that this was how things were meant to be. Not the tragic tale of love and loss you shared with Steve.

You didn't wait for him to walk you out of the church when the service was over, yet your plan to flee without an awkward farewell misfired at the sight of Nick Fury by the door. He looked exactly like he always did - black leather eyepatch, black leather duster coat, seemingly plucked from your thoughts.

"Y/N," he greeted you, evidently surprised although only someone who's spent as much time around him as you had would catch it in the tone of his voice. "How are you?"

"Good," you replied, way too quickly. "Fine."

Nick nodded, then turned to the blonde woman next to him.

"Carol, this is Agent Y/N Y/L/N," he introduced you. "Y/N, this is Captain Carol Danvers."

"Former agent," you corrected, shaking the hand Carol extended. She had a gentle, but strong grip. Noticing her gaze looking up, you turned around to find Steve approaching.

"Carol, Nick," he acknowledged them, then said to you: "You ready to go?"

You nodded, whispering a quiet "goodbye" before allowing Steve to lead you outside.

"Thanks," you muttered when you reached the open air. Even New York's polluted breeze was more refined than the stifling atmosphere inside the church and you inhaled deeply.

"No problem," he smiled. "I was hoping we could talk. You know, if you had the time."

You had all the time in the world, or so it seemed these days. Almost two months had dragged by since you woke up on the floor of your apartment and every minute seemed to make up for the years you missed. You weren’t working or even living in the old building in Bushwick anymore - Cal and Daniel, the father and son duo that first aided you, were. You were just going through the motions.

No one tells you that picking up the pieces takes longer than shattering them. No one bothers saying that when they break, they scatter, and compiling whatever’s left is a perverted scavenger hunt.

“There’s a coffee shop over there,” Steve pointed to a row of storefront across the church parking lot when you hesitated to give him an answer.

You shook your head, trying to scare off the white noise that always seemed to pester you.

“Sure,” you said, wondering if in your alternate life you’d know how to say no to Steve Rogers.

“So, you've experienced this sort of thing before?” Nick said.

“You get used to it,” Steve replied, looking down at the gravestone. Carved on the marble were the words: Col. Nicholas J. Fury, The path of the righteous man. Ezekiel 25:17.

“We've been data-mining HYDRA's files,” Nick continued. “Looks like a lot of rats didn't go down with the ship. I'm headed to Europe tonight, wanted to ask if you'd come.”

Steve shook his head.

“There's something I gotta do first.”

“How about you, Wilson?” Nick turned to Sam. “Could use a man with your abilities.”

“I'm more of a soldier than a spy,” he replied, resolute.

“Alright then,” Nick sighed and you thought he was honestly disappointed. He shook Steve and Sam’s hand and said: “Anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me right here.”

He turned to walk away but halted when he saw you approach. It was the first - and only - time you saw him wearing anything other than the black duster coat and you were surprised to find him affable, rather than alien.

He pointed to the file in your hands.

“How many favors did you have to call in order to get that?”

“A few,” you smiled. “Turns out I still have some friends in Kiev.”

Nick snickered, a whisper of a laugh so discreet that it faded almost instantly in the breeze.

“And you’re sure you’ll pull on that thread? With Hydra out in the open and Congress breathing down your neck?”

His real question was implicit: was your relationship with Steve Rogers worth the trouble?

“I’m sure,” you said, clutching the thick manila folder that contained information on the Winter Soldier.

Beyond the dark disguise of his sunglasses, you caught Nick’s gaze - and you were sad that things ended this way.

“Be safe, Y/N,” he offered.

Nick Fury was out of the graveyard and your life before you could wish him the same.

"I'm sorry I didn't call for a while," Steve apologized as soon as the young waitress left your table with your orders scribbled on a notepad. "I had to leave town for a few days."

You nodded, picking a napkin from it's holder in the center of the tiny corner table where you and Steve sat.

"It's okay," you said. "I know you have stuff to do."

He was still, after all, Steve Rogers. You never tricked yourself into believing you were his priority, instead accepted in your heart that you would always be second to The Avengers, Peggy Carter, Bucky Barnes and whatever else Steve set his eye on and it was fine. You'd be the second place as long as you could be something.

"I went back to return the stones," he added. "Bruce managed to repair the quantum tunnel, so Sam and I volunteered to go back and put them in place."

Back. As in the past.

"Okay," you repeated, because your recent conversations with Steve constantly left you lost for words, with all the information about time travel and elemental crystals from outer space. "Did everything go alright?"

"Yeah," he clasped his hands in front of him, and his colossal frame made the wooden chair he sat in look even smaller. "I saw Peggy."

You looked up from your staring match with the napkin, astounded.

"Really?" your tone was clipped and Steve noticed. Throughout your relationship, Steve's former flame was the unmentionable, the firing pin in the granade. Even if you had accepted the silver medal, it didn't mean it wasn't agonizingly painful to know you'd never shine bright in Steve's eyes like Peggy's gold standards.

"In 1970, at Camp Lehigh," he rubbed his forehead. "She didn't see me, of course, but I saw her. There were a bunch of pictures on her desk - her kids, her husband, one of myself before the serum..."

"Why are you telling me this?" you interrupted him, napkin now balled up in your fist.

"I don't know," Steve shrugged. There was a light pink blush crawling up his neck. "Shit, I don't know why I thought this would be a good way to start what I need to say to you, but… I guess seeing Peggy live her life made me realize how much of mine has been wasted."

You scoffed.

"How could you possibly have wasted your life, Steve? You're Captain America! You've saved the world more than once."

"When it comes to you I've wasted it," he whispered. "And I'm no longer Captain America."

"What?" you gasped, purposely ignoring the initial part of his sentence.

"I passed the shield on to Sam," he announced. "He'll do a good job."

"Why?" you breathed out.

"It was time," Steve said, plainly as if you were discussing the weather and not the one thing that defined who he was for over a century. "The guy that wanted a fight so badly he became a military experiment isn't here anymore. He's changed, the world has changed. That shield is too heavy for me now."

You shook your head, stunned.

"I can't believe this."

Steve started speaking, but stopped when the waitress arrived with your drinks: cappuccino for you, espresso for him. She took an unnecessarily long time pointing out the sugar and sweetner were, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder, telling him with a giggle to call her if he needed anything. Your coffee suddenly looked unsavory.

"The world needs Captain America," he continued after she was out of your hearing range. "But Captain America doesn’t necessarily needs to be Steve Rogers.”

“I think Sam will do a marvelous job, Steve. I just don’t understand where this decision came from. Is this because of what happened with Thonos?”

“Thanos,” he corrected you. “And no. This has been looming on my mind since before him.”

“Since when?” you questioned. “Because before Thanos you were out in the world being a wanted man. Please don’t tell me this urge for normalcy came to you while you were hiding like a coward.”

Steve sighed.

“Look, I know you’re angry at me and you have every right to be...”

“I know I have every right to be,” you cut him off. “I gave you everything and you left me stranded. Do you have any idea how hard that was? My boyfriend of three years became a criminal and he didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye before he fled.”

You slammed your fist on the table, rattling the china. The foam of your drink sloshed, a tiny bubbly dot spilling from the cup to the platter.

Lately, every single one of your conversations with Steve seemed to end in a fight and you were to blame. As much as you tried to move on, either your biological clock wasn't adjusted yet or your heart couldn't let go of the night he appeared on your doorstep after being absent for so long. It might've been five years in history for him, but for you it was a mere sixty days ago. You couldn't match this caring, attentive Steve to the bearded man in the shadows, indifferent and unconcerned, so you lashed at him. You nitpicked his every word and quibbled over the smallest things and he always took it silently, enraging you even further.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I shouldn't have said that. It has nothing to do with the subject."

"It has everything to do with the subject, Y/N," Steve exclaimed, hands flat on the wood, like he was going to reach for yours but gave up at the last moment. "I was so busy trying to make the world a better place that I didn't realize I was ignoring mine until I lost it. Until I lost you."

You rubbed your eyes.

"You can't blame your job for your mistakes, Steve. Or mine, for that matter."

"What were your mistakes, Y/N?" he asked. "You could've fled after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., but you stayed because I asked you to. You could've started a different job, but you took the position with the Avengers because I asked you to..."

"I loved you," you interrupted. "I did all of it because I loved you. And even though sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I'd said no, I don't regret it."

There's something about the air when the truth is laid bare. It shifts just slightly, as though nature itself can feel the weight of the words spoken, so it moves the atoms around to make space for verity. And in the essence of the world, it is immortalized.

"Do you love me still?" Steve murmured.

"You know I do," you smiled softly. "But I am so broken."

Crushed. Turned to dust long before the Mad Titan snapped his fingers. In the mad race to start over, you were so distant from the finishing line.

You were wrong: your recent conversations with Steve didn't end in arguments, they ended with you crying and him consoling you. This time his chair nearly collapsed as he rose, reaching you in just one step. At first he towered over you, arms hanging without touching your body, but when your sobs intensified he kneeled by your side, taking the crumpled napkin from your hands to dry your tears.

"Shhh," he soothed.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," you said, but it came out jumbled and watery from your tears. “I’m sorry.”

Noticing that the few other patrons and the flirty waitress were starting to look, Steve threw a fifty dollar bill on the table and pulled you up, wrapping his arms around your body as he led you outside.

Night was beginning to fall over Brooklyn. Sunsets in the city were all about spotting a few twinkling stars amid the smog, before the lights from the skyscrapers scrammed them away. One would argue that the sky in the woods, a dark blue tapestry with hundreds of twinkling dots, was far prettier, but you always thought it was fascinating to see the cosmos shining in the orange firmament.

The city had its own magic. It used to buzz in your veins when you first moved here, staring out this same sky from a window at the top deck of the Avengers Towers. If only you could feel it again.

“Do you feel better?” Steve whispered into your hair when your breathing began to even out.

You nodded, cleaning your tears with the sleeves of your sweater.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“Yeah,” you croaked. “I need to finish packing.”

“Packing?” he frowned.

“I got a call from my grandparents lawyer when you were gone,” you explained. “Turns out I still have ownership over the house in the woods, so I’m planning to move back home before Christmas break.”

Steve’s arms fell and he stepped away from you. The absence of his touch made you shiver.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed. “Another family lives in my apartment now and I can’t stay with my cousin forever, so…”

“You could stay with me,” he intervened. “You don't have to leave."

"I need to start over, Steve."

"But what about me?" he pleaded.

Steve Rogers never pleaded. He was stubborn and tenacious, the worst person to get in a fight with. You'd learned to cave because he never did, and it was better to swallow your pride than staying days without speaking to your headstrong boyfriend when his job put him in danger constantly. For three years you told yourself that it didn't matter that Steve didn't love you fully - you loved him enough for the two of you. Only enough wasn't acceptable anymore.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I love you, Steve," you said. "But just like you're not the guy from the 1940s anymore, I'm no longer the hacker from S.H.I.E.L.D. either."

Steve cupped your face, touching your forehead with his.

"Don't leave me," he begged. "I can't live without you."

You kissed his palm.

"We've made a mess," you replied. "Just let me try and fix it."

You owe me that, you didn't say, but Steve knew. In the misty twilight, he only hoped you could forgive him.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfiction #corneliabarnes #my writing #the woods

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inspired-writer07 · 3 years

Text

Euphoria

Words: 1605

Summary: She knew, he didn’t.

[Inspired by: “Die From a Broken Heart” - Maddie and Tae; “Euphoria” - BTS; “Sober” - Taps]

“Hey momma how do you get a red wine stain out of your favorite dress? Black mascara off a pillowcase?” Y/N asked. She couldn’t help the tears that ran down her face. Her heart was shattering again and she couldn’t stop it. She’s been strong lately and she can now show her weakness in front of the only person she knows won’t judge her for it.

Y/N loved too much too soon, and she knows that now. It’s always been her downfall. Always leaving her heart on her sleeves. The brunette didn’t know how else to live. That’s how she saw her mom and her brother live their life. How she was raised.

“How can he leave so easy? Am I going to be alright?” She chuckled through the tears. “Can you die from a broken heart? How can he leave me so easy?” He shouldn’t have been able to leave so easily. Although he didn’t leave, his heart did. She knew it before he did. Even then, how could he have left so easily? Not after what they’ve been through.

~Flashback~

Y/N watched him on the world stage, performing like nothing else mattered. Because nothing did at the moment. The brunette watched him live his dreams and took a trip down memory lane to see how far he and his group have come. She was there through it all. The “less-than-stellar” debut, helping them get more audience at their concerts, giving away free tickets, the blood, sweat, and tears of it all. She saw them fight amongst themselves when things got tense, makeup when they couldn’t stand not practicing. She saw them devastated when they went home empty-handed after awards shows, and she saw them cry and yell in victory when they won their first award, and first major award. She saw their rise and downfall and she watched as they rose again to break worldwide records, go on to be the group to pave the way for those to come. Y/N saw it all.

~Flashback End~

Y/N saw, and witnessed first-hand, her beloved SO rise from nothing, and she ultimately saw how he slowly became someone else’s. She denied it at first. She didn’t want to believe that the man who held her as she buried her older brother, and months later her mother, was the same man whose heart now belonged to someone else before he even realized it himself. Y/N knew he was denying it. He was too good of a person to cheat on Y/N. She hated those who cheat, she’s been cheated on before, and somehow this was worse. Being cheated on sucks, but knowing that the love of your life is in love with someone else while with you isn’t something she thought she’d ever experience. It hurts worse because she couldn’t be mad at him or her. They did nothing wrong. They didn’t kiss or sleep around. No, they just happened to be the most compatible people on earth. She gets him like no one else and it killed Y/N to admit it.

Y/N sat in between her brother and mother’s grave staring into the stars. Time eluded her as she sat in peace. Her tears had dried up some time ago, even though her heart still ached at the situation she was in. She knew what she needed to do, and it may hurt, but it was for the best. She stood before blowing a kiss to her mother and brother before starting her trek back to her car.

“Just do it.” She chanted to herself as she sat in her car in the BigHit private parking lot. She took a deep breath and exited her car. Her new confidence was her sole motivation to make it to the elevator, and it all but evaporated when she arrived at his studio and saw the pair inside.

“Hello.” Seunghee smiled and bowed.

“Hey,” Y/N replied. She couldn’t help but hate the other woman. She couldn’t help it.

Y/N saw his smile as he saw her, and then she saw his smile widen as he heard whatever Seunghee replied under her breath.

“Hey, you.” He hugged Y/N and planted a small kiss on her hairline.

“Can I talk to you for a sec Jungkook?” Y/N asked. Jungkook smiled and nodded. “In private.” She continued through gritted teeth. The duo before her were confused before nodding and dispersing. The two hugged, and even though it happened within a second, she saw how his arms tightened around the blonde. They parted and said their goodbyes, Jungkook to the chair, and Seunghee to go and find her former classmates Taehyung and Jimin.

“So what’s up?” Jungkook said, turning around to the soundboard.

“Let’s break up.”

Jungkook froze, hand hovering over the play button. He couldn’t register what she had just spoken.

Y/N stood there not knowing what else to say. She turned to leave when his words reached her ears.

“Wha-why?” the male finally responded, turning around. “Please tell me this is a joke.” Tears were on the verge of falling.

“I wish it was Kook.”

“We can work it out. We always do.”

“Trust me, we won’t be able to. It’s best to end things now while things are good.”

“You’re not making any sense, Y/N.” He was now standing, unable to be seated while his girlfriend was about to walk out of his life.

Y/N was slowly getting irritated. ‘Isn’t this what he wants?’ She thought.

“At least tell me why you’re leaving me Y/N.”

“Because I can’t sit by and watch you love someone else Jungkook. I can’t sit here and deny it anymore.”

“What are you talking about Y/N?”

The two were starting to raise their voices. The emotions were too much for either one to stay calm.

“I’m talking about Seunghee, Jungkook!”

The male scoffed. “Are you kidding me Y/N? You’re breaking up with me because I’m friends with her?!”

“No. I’m breaking up with you because you’re in love with her!”

“Y/-”

“Don’t deny it, Kook. I can see it. I’ve known you my whole life, Jungkook. I can see it in your eyes. The way they light up when the slightest mention of her is said, or how you can’t stop smiling when she’s near. Jungkook, I know you love her because this is how you were when you found out you loved me.”

“Y/N, you don’t know shit about me then. I don’t love her, I love you!”

Tears fell as her lips curved into a sad smile. “Do you know that that’s the first time you said you loved me since meeting her?”

“That’s not true.” his voice breaking, because he knew she was right. But not because of meeting Seunghee. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he was irritated whenever Y/N called, or why he never picked up. He didn’t know why he stopped taking her out on dates or accepted her multiple offers for dinner. He didn’t know why he never told Y/N that he loved her, because he truly did. And if continued being honest with himself, he did know why. He knows why he was distancing himself from Y/N, and it’s because he was falling for Seunghee. The tears fell as he reached for her hand. His lips parted as he tried to form an apology good enough for the love of his life.

Y/N smiled a bitter smile, before squeezing his hand.

“I love you Jungkook. You were there for me through everything, and I couldn’t be more grateful to be able to say that you once loved me. I hope you find that infinite happiness you couldn’t have with me.” She pulled him in for a hug and kissed him one last time.

Jungkook watched in slow motion as he witnessed her hands let his go. He didn’t know how long he stood there by himself. It may have well could have been thirty seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. He snapped out of it when he felt the hands of his leader on his shoulder. He looked up to see the hyung line standing before him with worried faces.

“What happened?” Namjoon questioned.

“Hyung.” His voice broke as his knees collapsed, forcing the older man to catch him. His cries could be heard by the staff and trainees. The activities stopped as they listened to the almighty Jungkook wail in heartbreak.

“Junkook-ah.” Jin whispered. His heart broke for the boy. He knew how much he loved Y/N, she was the first person he introduced them to. Not his family or close friends, but Y/N.

The older three looked up to see Hoseok standing there out of breath, shaking his head. He had run after Y/N after hearing the screams and witnessing her leave in tears. He had tried to catch up, but she was determined to leave. By the time he had reached the garage, her car left the building.

The dancer stood at the door and watched as Jungkook wept in their leaders’ arms. Jimin and Taehyung had just returned from walking Seunghee to her car. They had seen Y/N run from the stairs to her cars in tears. They had called out her name in worry, only stopping in confusion upon seeing Hoseok run after her. They had rushed Seunghee to her car before rushing upstairs, only to witness the aftermath of a long, loving relationship.

-END-

*Disclaimer: constructive criticism please.

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streetsteel · 3 years

Text

MUNDAY ASKS — accepting pls send some lmao

@infernalpursuit sent: before jay, did you play other ocs? or did you ever thought of playing more of them?? give us Details and yes this is also an excuse for u to talk about lau and gal if u want

It’s a bit of a yes and no answer. I did RP OCs a whole bunch before Jay, but not on Tumblr. I’m one of the old people around here, and before tumblr, there was a handy dandy very ugly green thing called DeviantArt. There were RP groups on there that were half art-based, half roleplay-based, and you had to apply to these to join one team or another. RPed in chat, in comments on artwork, in notes, on (RIP) messenger and skype, and so on, and so forth. But these were in all-OC roleplay groups, not in Fandom RP.

Then I dipped out of OC rp for some canon RP, and this was during the days when people were very much ‘bwah bwah OCs have to be weaker than canons bwah bwah’ (and honestly, I just had a lot of muse for some canon muses in Ace Attorney and Pokemon, which we love to toot OCs’ horn a lot, but good canon RP is just as fucking valid lmao). Jay took a long time coming together, because I was low-key scared of putting my own creation into the world, and honestly, at the beginning I made so many concessions just so he wouldn’t come off as too strong or too antagonistic. I had fun with him, but there’s some things that I look back on and, in hindsight, I’m so glad I took a 4 year break from him because it allowed me to mature in my way of approaching his character development and also to wear my big girl pants with what I want him to become (which I’m still sometimes struggling with lmao).

I would LOVE to play more OCs on the Tumblr (and honestly on discord too, it just feels much more low-ley and less HARD COMMITMENT BAYBEE), I launched a Ho-Oh gijinka @pyreborn and my fanregion lore blog @roadtobelysse, on which I hope to slap some muses soon, but the thing that eludes me most right now is time and motivation to write longer things. I still work 37.5 hours a week, from 8 to 4, and I take care of the house, do chores, and have other hobbies I like spending time on as well, so it’s like... Sometimes I have to pick my battles and live with not roleplaying for a few days (which is why Discord is so amazing, it’s just a few lil things and blammo, done). But I’m so utterly stoked to bring more fanregion babies into the fold and to just. Throw them at the world. I’m also just a big worrier, and I want everything to be nice and shiny and everything to be done as perfectly as possible before launching, so it may take me some time. (Also tumblr’s been kind of dead these days so it’s not feeding all that much into my motivation OTL)

But god once I find my motivation and add another six hours to my days, it’s over for y’all mofos.

#❞░▐ OOC;#❞░▐ REPLIES;#infernalpursuit #❞░▐ MUNDAY;

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thebluelemontree · 4 years

Note

On this note: “ Another way of saying Littlefinger didn’t bet on Sandor is that he didn’t account for him.” I know people say that Varys was behind the bread riot, but there’s some speculation around that it was actually LF and Mandon Moore was one of his men. Moore abandons Sansa in the riots and I think that was staged. LF didn’t account for Sandor saving her. What he planned on doing to her - maybe an escape? IDK.

People say a lot of things in this fandom, let’s put it that way. We see in no POV’s account that there is any evidence of attempted kidnapping on Sansa during the riot, let alone a whole conspiracy to commit kidnapping that was thwarted. Let’s remember, Tyrek Lannister was the one that got snatched here (allegedly, technically he’s only known to be missing). If anyone was specifically targetted, it was him.

The bread riot was always a powder keg waiting to explode. No one person orchestrated it. The Tyrells had cut off food supplies from the Reach when they stood with Renly against Stannis and Joffrey. Prices are ridiculously high, and basic foodstuffs are scarce. There’s rampant lawlessness in the streets as well as a bloody flux. There’s open talk of rebellion among the guilds and merchants. Tyrion is burning down all homes and shops between the water and the city walls in preparation for Stannis’s attack. This is going to displace hundreds, maybe thousands of poor people. Joffrey is executing antler men and personally shooting bolts into unarmed, starving citizens. Begging brothers are preaching damnation of the corrupt nobility, including charging them with incest, birthing monsters, and reveling under demonic influence. The Lannister-Baratheons could not be more hated than they are at that moment. We have to remember that at the time of the riot, Littlefinger was well away at Bitterbridge and then went on to High Garden to negotiate with Mace Tyrell for the then widowed Margaery’s hand. He already has his man Dontos plotting with Sansa in the godswood, gaining her trust, so she leaves willingly when the time is right. A second kidnapping/escape plot overcomplicates everything is totally unnecessary. If Moore was supposed to be LF’s man, why wouldn’t he just lead Sansa away to a rendezvous point under the pretense of eluding the mob? That would have been simple and plausible as her shield. Just abandoning her in the swarm doesn’t speak to a plan that has to go off without any mishaps.

On the other hand, Varys is the one official still in the city who was noted by Jaime to be conspicuously absent from seeing Myrcella off to Dorne. Varys, who claimed to have informants all over the city, yet he never forewarned Cersei of any possible riot. Again, it’s Tyrek that disappears without a trace.

Sorry for the long wait. I actually had to take some time to re-read and reflect on Mandon Moore. I think it’s a really bad place to start the speculation with the assumption that he must be working for someone at all. My conclusion is that he’s not working for anyone, and he doesn’t have to be to do what he does. He is a guy motivated by naked self-interest and personal advancement, and that does not necessarily equate with greed or being in anyone’s pocket. IMO, I think he has traits similar to a corporate psychopath (though he’s obviously down for murder too) than anything else. Let’s just focus on how his characterization is described first.

Jaime had once told him that Moore was the most dangerous of the Kingsguard—excepting himself, always—because his face gave no hint as what he might do next. – Tyrion I, ACOK.

He’s described as appearing corpse-like with eyes that are “oddly flat and lifeless.” He’s cold and emotionless. Most notably, Ser Mandon has ties to no one.

Lord Arryn brought him to King’s Landing and Robert gave him his white cloak, but neither loved him much, I fear. Nor was he the sort the smallfolk cheer in tourneys, despite his undoubted prowess. Why, even his brothers of the Kingsguard never warmed to him. Ser Barristan was once heard to say that the man had no friend but his sword and no life but duty … but you know, I do not think Selmy meant it altogether as praise. Which is queer when you consider it, is it not? Those are the very qualities we seek in our Kingsguard, it could be said—men who live not for themselves, but for their king. By those lights, our brave Ser Mandon was the perfect white knight. – Tyrion II, ASOS.

Of all the things said about him, nowhere does anyone suggest it is in Mandon Moore’s character to want anything outside of his career within the kingsguard. He has a single-minded focus on duty and serving the king in an almost robotic level of obedience. No one can tell what goes on behind that blank expression. If a man’s motivations are unknowable, you can’t predict future behavior. Mandon Moore does not strike me as someone who would fall prey to bribery or blackmail. He’s not ideologically motivated, nor is he someone a conspirator can confidently rely on to carry out a task without risk of being double-crossed. If we look at men Littlefinger has taken into his service like Ser Dontos, the Kettleblacks, Janos Slynt, Nestor Royce, Lothor Brune, Lyn Corbray, there’s always a glaring weakness to be exploited, be it greed, excessive/wounded pride, addiction, closeted homosexuality, desperation, debt, estrangement from family, desire to rise from the underclass, lack of better options, etc. Mandon doesn’t have any of these vulnerabilities.

So what did I mean by having traits in common with a corporate psychopath, though? Varys talks about Mandon being “the perfect white knight” and possessing the ideal qualities of a kingsguard. Certain types of corporate psychopaths can wear a facade of traits that the business world desires and values. They can seem like the perfect employee that the company leadership can rely on. They appear to be fearless and unwavering in their drive for success, sometimes even earning praise and recognition for outright ruthlessness. Their sometimes apparent lack of emotions could be read as having the grit to do what is necessary in times of turmoil. Most use manipulative tactics to discredit, undermine, or sabotage coworkers and superiors alike just to get ahead, which I will show is relevant in Moore’s case. Everyone is either a potential pawn, patron, or enemy to be eliminated. Not all psychopaths have superficial and grandiose charm, and no one would accuse Mandon of being charming, but he does put himself out there to be seen as indispensably valuable to the king.

Let’s go back to the bread riot and why Mandon Moore abandoned Sansa’s side as her shield.

Tyrion pressed blunt fingers into his throbbing temples. If Sansa Stark had come to harm, Jaime was as good as dead. “Ser Mandon, you were her shield.”

Ser Mandon Moore remained untroubled. “When they mobbed the Hound, I thought first of the king.”

“And rightly so,” Cersei put in. “Boros, Meryn, go back and find the girl.“ – Tyrion IX, ACOK.

I see no sign that there’s any duplicity going on here when he’s questioned. Mandon Moore acted in a way he believed the king and the queen regent (his patrons) would approve of. The traitor’s daughter’s life doesn’t mean anything to Joffrey, and she is only a secondary thought of the queen’s after they are safe within the castle; therefore, she is not a useful pawn to him. If Mandon Moore shows any desire for anything at all, it’s this: Sandor Clegane’s privileged position with the Lannisters. Joffrey ordered Sandor to go after the peasant that threw the dung. As Sandor is mobbed (and it would be reasonable to wager he’ll be imminently killed), Ser Mandon seized the opportunity to swoop in as Sandor’s replacement, dropping Sansa like a hot potato. There is a reason he keeps being ironically regarded as the white knight in shining armor. He’s a real Johnny on the spot that one. Even if Sandor somehow isn’t killed, Moore still comes out looking like the kingsguard that did not falter in his duty to protect the king even in all the confusion and chaos. It’s an opportunistic upstaging of a colleague to discredit his effectiveness at his job. It proves shortsighted on his part because Sandor not only survives but has Sansa, still a valuable Lannister hostage, alive and in tow.

This will come up again at the Battle of the Blackwater when Sandor finally breaks from the wildfire. Tyrion orders Sandor to continue leading sorties outside the city walls, but he refuses. Guess who chimes in?

Ser Mandon Moore moved to Tyrion’s side, immaculate in his enameled white plate. "The King’s Hand commands you.”

“Bugger the King’s Hand.” Where the Hound’s face was not sticky with blood, it was pale as milk. “Someone bring me a drink.” A gold cloak officer handed him a cup. Clegane took a swallow, spit it out, flung the cup away. “Water? Fuck your water. Bring me wine.”

He is dead on his feet. Tyrion could see it now. The wound, the fire … he’s done, I need to find someone else, but who? Ser Mandon? He looked at the men and knew it would not do. Clegane’s fear had shaken them. Without a leader, they would refuse as well, and Ser Mandon … a dangerous man, Jaime said, yes, but not a man other men would follow. – Tyrion XIII, ACOK.

Since when has Moore ever shown any deference to Tyrion’s authority before? Never. This is a performance for his situational patron, part of Moore’s facade. What is suggested by vocally taking Tyrion’s side is that Moore wants Tyrion to name him commander. He would see the opportunity to take Sandor’s place by not only highlighting the latter’s disobedience, but his posturing implies that he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out the Hand’s orders. It’s also a boon that Sandor’s behavior is quickly tanking any remaining confidence in his courage and leadership ability. Moore must have thought himself the natural choice to assume command as he is a kingsguard and a capable fighter, but he could not have foreseen Tyrion absorbing Jaime’s counsel. Instead, Tyrion decides to lead the sorties himself, shaming anyone that doesn’t follow as being less than a dwarf. Being named the king’s standard-bearer, as Ser Mandon was, is usually considered a high honor. A corporate psychopath wouldn’t see it that way. It’s a piss poor consolation to being led around by someone he would consider a lesser man. Battle is where a knight earns his commendations and honors, which we see in Sansa’s eighth chapter in Clash. As commander of the sorties and his rival disgraced as a craven, Moore would have been the hero of the day should they emerge victorious. Tyrion prevented that. Moore would then be left with only one other option to assume leadership. Tyrion has to fall on the battlefield.

“MY LORD! TAKE MY HAND! MY LORD TYRION!”

There on the deck of the next ship, across a widening gulf of black water, stood Ser Mandon Moore, a hand extended. Yellow and green fire shone against the white of his armor, and his lobstered gauntlet was sticky with blood, but Tyrion reached for it all the same, wishing his arms were longer. It was only at the very last, as their fingers brushed across the gap, that something niggled at him … Ser Mandon was holding out his left hand, why … – Tyrion XIV, ACOK.

Ser Mandon’s sword comes down in his right hand and nearly kills Tyrion. What Moore could not have anticipated was getting iced by Podrick Payne before he could finish Tyrion off. There’s a simple elegance to Moore’s motivations being strictly his own. There’s no complicated conspiracy needed to explain any of his actions. He’s just a shark in a suit of armor. But what about Varys implying there was a conspiracy to kill Tyrion with Moore as the catspaw? It seems to validate Tyrion’s suspicions that it was Cersei, or at least someone.

Bronn had turned up all he could on Ser Mandon, but no doubt Varys knew a deal more … should he choose to share it. “The man seems to have been quite friendless,” Tyrion said carefully.

“Sadly,” said Varys, “oh, sadly. You might find some kin if you turned over enough stones back in the Vale, but here … Lord Arryn brought him to King’s Landing and Robert gave him his white cloak, but neither loved him much, I fear. Nor was he the sort the smallfolk cheer in tourneys, despite his undoubted prowess. Why, even his brothers of the Kingsguard never warmed to him.

… [the Barristan part already quoted above]

And he died as a knight of the Kingsguard ought, with sword in hand, defending one of the king’s own blood.” The eunuch gave him a slimy smile and watched him sharply.

Trying to murder one of the king’s own blood, you mean. Tyrion wondered if Varys knew rather more than he was saying. Nothing he’d just heard was new to him; Bronn had brought back much the same reports. He needed a link to Cersei, some sign that Ser Mandon had been his sister’s catspaw.

Let’s not forget Varys benefits by furthering the rifts within the Lannister regime. He can easily play to Tyrion’s paranoia by suggesting there’s more behind Mandon Moore’s murder attempt than there was. He smiles and mentions Moore’s origins in the Vale, a gesture at Littlefinger most likely; however, there are no substantial breadcrumbs left behind to connect Moore to anyone. We’re even reminded twice that Bronn’s investigation turned up nothing except what was already well-known. There’s just no there there. Tyrion is doing the same thing as the conspiracy theories by assuming that Moore has to be in someone’s pay, but his reasoning is faulty.

Jaime had always said that Ser Mandon was the most dangerous of the Kingsguard, because his dead empty eyes gave no hint to his intentions. I should never have trusted any of them. He’d known that Ser Meryn and Ser Boros were his sister’s, and Ser Osmund later, but he had let himself believe that the others were not wholly lost to honor. Cersei must have paid him to see that I never came back from the battle. Why else? I never did Ser Mandon any harm that I know of. – Tyrion XV, ACOK.

He mistook Moore’s commitment to duty and obedience for having honor. And yes, he did unintentionally cross Ser Mandon. He just didn’t know it because he couldn’t read the guy. He couldn’t see beneath the surface, and that is why Jaime is correct in calling him the most dangerous. One can never know for sure if this type of corporate psychopath sees you as their pawn, their patron, or their enemy at any given moment. There’s no way to mount a defense against that unless you can understand who you are really dealing with. Tyrion was just very, very lucky that he brought Podrick Payne with him into battle.

#valyrian scrolls #valyrianscrolls #ser mandon moore #sansa stark #sandor clegane #tyrion lannister #varys #the bread riots #asoiaf meta #conspiracy theories #asoiaf theories #asoiaf characterization #my meta #anonymous

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bifuriouswaterbender · 4 years

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Harry Potter Fanfic Recommendations about Trans Characters

I will not pretend to be an expert by any means when I am cis, but I’ve come across plenty of stories with trans characters in the past and wanted to not only re-find them but also discover more. Here is a far-from-comprehensive list of links sorted by which character is trans. Some of these stories have more than one, in which case I deferred to the protagonist.

I intend to keep adding to this as I discover more, so if anyone has specific recommendations, please send them my way! I only have ten listed thus far, but I wanted to get the list out there.

Harry Potter

the girl who lived (again) - Features Harry/Ginny. 10,330 words. Rated G.

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

My note: This story is actually a re-imagining of her whole book story. Her name is considered at one point, but she decides to keep using Harry because she feels it fits her. It also includes references to other trans and gender fluid characters.

Draco Malfoy

The Only True Goal of the Universe - Features Harry/Draco and background Hermione/Ron, Seamus/Dean. 22,753 words. Rated E.

It comes up, as most juvenile things do, in a game of Truth or Dare.

Shenanigans - Features Harry/Draco and background Hermione/Ron. 4823 words. Rated E.

Of course Draco’s orgasm hits him right as Potter does the one thing he’s not supposed to do. Of fucking course.

Or, the blood curse lingering over the Malfoys has landed on Draco, and he’s doomed to get knocked up by the first cock that gets inside his cunt. Just his luck that cock ends up being Harry Potter’s.

Hand-in-Hand and Handkerchief - Features Draco/Astoria. 3008 words. Rated G

Draco Malfoy is not generally sympathetic to the sight of tears, but when he stumbles upon a second year Slytherin sniffling in the rose garden during the Yule Ball, for once he manages not to be a complete arse. Astoria is just glad that he had a handkerchief in his pocket because she forgot hers.

My Note: This includes three trans characters, including a happy adult example. It also has mention of a really cool magical potion idea for transition that the author has provided a free-for-use explanation of here.

Sirius Black

Discards - Features Remus/Sirius, James/Lily. 76,032 words. Rated M. Modern non-magical AU.

When 21-year-old assistant librarian Sirius spots a cute hipster college student at the Seattle Public Library, he just needs to figure out a subtle way of determining whether he's into guys. But Remus's life is more complicated than Sirius knows.

My note: Tons of diversity within this cast with no white main characters and many different sexualities mentioned. Also sex positive with great commentary about homelessness, HIV, sex work, classism, and more.

Live Like We’re Renegates - Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 24,378 words. Rated E.

Exuberant, proud, genderfluid, cheerleader, self-described narcissist. All things to describe Sirius Black. It's a stark contrast from the self-imposed loner, Journalist, and Gender Studies major Remus Lupin who is thrown into Sirius' world after accepting a project for a class. When the two worlds collide, both lives are changed for the better.

Sirius leant forward a bit, meeting Remus’ eyes. “Are you asking if I go for cute boys in beanies and jumpers, Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ face went hot. “Er. No. I mean…er…”

Sirius laughed. “Find your chill, love. I’m joking.” He winked at Remus and sat back again.

My note: Sirius is genderfluid and uses He/Him pronouns. Remus is deaf with a cochlear implant.

Lay Your Hands on Me -Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 8947 words. Rated E.

In which Sirius really likes trying out new hairstyles over the years and Remus really can't concentrate on much else, to be honest. This fic features reckless and impulsive teenage boys, classic Marauders-style banter, a low-key overdramatic Remus, and falling in love with close friends.

Or, alternatively: Three times Remus really wanted to touch Sirius' hair and one time he actually did.

Remus Lupin

TransFigured (and continued series) - Features Remus/Sirius. 57,170. Rated E.

“We thought you might be a werewolf," said Sirius. "What?" Remus almost laughed at the absurdity. "Last year. James and I thought — but the dates didn’t quite match up. With the full moons, I mean." "Well, I’m not." "I know. All I meant was, we thought you might be, and we still wanted to be friends. Whatever you’re not telling us — how much worse can it be?"

All Hail the Outlaws - Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James, Peter/Dorcas. 29,330 words. Rated E.

One of Remus Lupin's three jobs happens to be working maintenance for their flat building. He gets to meet all sorts, most of whom he would rather have nothing to do with. Until James Potter and Sirius Black move in across the hall. Engineering students and self-proclaimed geniuses, the pair set out to make their neighbours new best friends, and everyone's life is turned upside down, but in the best way possible.

My note: Sirius is blind, and the fic spends a lot of focus on each man’s experiences with bigotry and learning how to best be there for each other.

Succession of Halos - Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 7340 words. Rated E

When Remus gets talked into seeing his favourite author--Astronomy Professor S. Black--hold a stargazing lecture, he anticipates a stodgy old man in tweed. He does not expect the ripped jeans and rolling-stones t-shirt wearing, motor-bike riding Sirius Black with his wicked smile and passion for the stars. Remus is sure there's no chance between them, but little does he know, Sirius has a passion for many things in life, one of which being Remus Lupin.

My note: I have this listed under Remus, but Sirius is also genderfluid. Baby Harry is featured in the story, and is blind.

Child Characters

‘Twas Brillig - Features Harry/Draco with failed Harry/Ginny. 73,998 words. Rated E.

Harry reads a chapter of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to his children before bed every night and through the story, he and his middle child find an ally in each other as they, along with Alice, discover a world that just doesn't seem to make sense when taken at face value. The more aware Harry becomes - embracing his child's reality - the more motivated he is to build a wizarding world that is fully inclusive, and by processing these life lessons finds he's able to connect with another person in ways that have always eluded him.

My Note: There are two trans characters in this story, one being Al (who begins using Alice with Al still as a nickname) and another being an adult I’ll leave unnamed because it comes up organically. This story is as much if not more so about Harry’s sexuality, and there is also strong representation of drag and crossdressing from a cis male character.

Miscellaneous

When The Letter Comes by Sara Fox - A published short story that seems definitely inspired by Harry Potter but also by other fantasy works.

Henry believes that someday, something awesome will happen–everything will turn out all right and all her problems will disappear once her letter arrives, welcoming her to magic school. So even though puberty is already here with changes (like her voice deepening and hair growing in places she does not want), she also knows it’s only a matter of time. After all, hundreds of books have said so.

But when the letter finally comes on Henry’s thirteenth birthday, it is not addressed to her, but to her sister.

When The Letter Comes is a short story with a YA trans protagonist that embraces the experience of those left behind, who must find their own way in the world–magic or not.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #trans characters #genderfluid characters #harry potter fanfic #drarry #wolfstar #hinny #fuck jk rowling

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cryoculus · 4 years

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Lunaris [5/11]

*casually changes the chapter count* yall didnt see A THING

!! ALSO !! Trigger warnings for graphic depictions of gore at the latter half of the chapter. Just thought I’d put it up there.

Navigation

Chapter Title: Full Moon Pairing: Yokai!Akaashi Keiji/Reader Word Count: 3,543

***

"This week's lunar eclipse was reported to be a total eclipse! The shadow of the sun will engulf the moon completely—what a sight to see, indeed!"

"Bah," your grandmother scoffed through the sound of sautéing ingredients as she switched off the TV. "News channels poison the minds of people, anyway."

You gaped at her incredulously from where you sat on the dining table. "Oba-san, I was watching that!"

The older woman tutted at you as she transferred the leftover rice from last night onto the frying pan. "You know eclipses are a bad omen, and these people intend to say otherwise."

"Ba-san, not everybody lives by the Tsukuyomi traditions—"

"Do you want some sukonbu flakes on your gohan?"

"I—yes, please."

When your grandmother was done cooking breakfast for the day, she laid out two bowls of gohan, each topped with a raw egg in the middle. The scent of the freshly fried rice wafted to your nose, and you immediately forgot about your prior sulking because of how delectable your food looked like. As you reached for the soy sauce to encourage more flavor, however, your grandmother took your hand in hers, shooting you a stern look.

"Don't go out on the night of the eclipse," she said. "It's been a while since I've last seen one, but it always preceded misfortune."

Confused, you asked, "How long ago is 'a while', oba-san?"

Instead of humoring you with a proper answer, she merely chuckled at the inquiry as she sat down right across from you. "It doesn't matter. Just stay in the house, alright? It's a good thing it didn't land on the day of the festival, itself."

Knowing it would be no use arguing with her, you exhaled a sigh of defeat once you've dripped enough soy sauce onto your food. The snap of wooden chopsticks rang in your ears as you let anticipation swell in your chest. Was it just you or was the egg yolk seemingly glittering in the morning daylight?

"Thank you for the meal!"

***

Japanese Literature was easily your most favorite subject because of two reasons.

The first was that you were already familiar with most of the topics listed off in the course module already. Genji Monogatari was one of the first books your grandmother had given to you as a child, and she'd be the one to help you out with understanding the difficult words. But even if you've spent a majority of your life with your nose stuffed in books and manuscripts snagged from the shrine's old storage room, there was still a lot more to learn—about the vast, hidden truths of the world that still eluded you.

That's where the second reason came in.

"The moon goddess, Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto, was born from the right eye of the creator, Izanagi-no-Mikoto; while her brother, Amaterasu-omikami was born from his left eye," your teacher drawled out the facts you already knew from the pocketbook in his hands. The disinterested set of his brow was clue enough of how much he would rather be doing anything else other than spitting out excerpts from Japanese mythology in front of high schoolers.

It was last period for you, and even though you were normally motivated to listen despite your teacher's apathy for the course, you were feeling the fatigue you've accumulated from training slowly catching up to you. Fukurodani was a powerhouse when it came to its sports teams, and the reputation that you had to uphold was a heavier burden than getting remarkable official records for future reference. Though Coach Yamamoto was usually lenient, he'd already transformed into his demon coach persona at the beginning of the week.

But after you've zoned into your own thoughts for a good twenty minutes, your teacher managed to yank you back into attentiveness when he'd tackled the topic of yokai.

"In more popular literature, yokai were commonly depicted as grotesque creatures that consume human flesh," he began, "but there have been several tales that told of those able to take on the form of human beings; making it much easier for them to prowl across the land unnoticed."

Hm. Sounds like a certain, unsuspecting second year to me.

"However, even though they use deception as their means of getting by, those yokai still revert back to their true forms under specific circumstances. For children of the first Tengu, they are quite susceptible to rain. Once it begins to pour from the heavens, their disguises wear off at the snap of a finger."

Your brows knit together in curiosity. Akaashi was one of those shape shifters, then. But if that tale applied to all shape-shifting yokai, what could Akaashi's trigger be?

Shaking your head, you proceeded jotting down the assignment that your teacher began scribbling on the chalkboard once he's gone over the topic. It wasn't something that should warrant your interest. Strictly speaking, you weren't even friends with Akaashi. You were just someone who'd managed to figure out what he was. That was all there was to it.

Yet, a few hours later, once you'd gotten your fresh taste of your demon coach's training regimens, you found yourself waiting by the school gates.

As you bounced impatiently on the balls of your feet, jamming your hands in the pockets of your track jacket to distract yourself somehow, your gaze darted every now and again at the other students that also stayed behind for club activities. There was still no sign of the volleyball team.

In hindsight, you could have just hung around in the gym, waiting for them to finish. Bokuto's admirers did it all the time, so why couldn't the captain of the track team do the same? Ah, right.

You still couldn't bear to look Bokuto in the eye after he'd asked you to go with him to the lunar festival.

How on Earth could you face him eye-to-eye after that? Why would he even ask you, of all people, in the first place? You've been giving Itsumi the cold shoulder for the past few days, too. How dare she tell the ace to get a red kimono when your favorite kimono was patterned after crimson cherry blossoms?!

"(Surname)-san?"

You didn't know how your instinctive reaction to Akaashi's voice would reflect on the way you supposedly saw him as, but in your defense, you were surprised by how he addressed you. The setter was donned in his school uniform, and he didn't have the air of someone who'd just gotten out of volleyball practice.

"A-Akaashi," you stuttered, hoping it wasn't glaringly obvious that you were waiting for him in particular. "You weren't at training?"

His brows were raised with subtle curiosity before he shook his head. "My class has a production coming up, and it costs about seventy percent of our final grade. Coach Yamiji allowed me some time off."

"Oh," the word tumbled pathetically from your lips, before you cleared your throat. "I-I see. You're quite diligent, huh? I mean, for a yokai blending in as a—"

"(Surname)-san," Akaashi interrupted warily, and you were immediately struck by the awareness of how loud your voice was. Getting his plea, you toned down your voice a couple of notches lower.

"I still find it kind of interesting, you know." Chuckling, you folded your arms across your chest. "From what you told me, I think you're someone ancient. You could track down whoever has your heart in no time and you wouldn't have to subject yourself to mundane things like that."

Akaashi merely stared at you with the same, navy-eyed gaze before his line of sight darted around the vicinity. Then, he beckoned you to come closer. When you leaned your ear next to his face, the setter whispered, "(Surname)-san, I would appreciate it if you didn't disclose such information out in the open."

"It's not like anyone's listening," you argued, pouting at him. "By the way, I have something to ask you."

"Does your curiosity have no bounds?" He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. You'd only noticed it now, but there were traces of fatigue on his face that you would've missed if you hadn't looked so closely. You almost felt bad for cornering him like this, but...

"Can you show me your true form?"

Something flashed across his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it surfaced, and now Akaashi was just staring at you like he was just done with your demands.

"You know, I only ever meet extremely infuriating humans one after the other," he told you, dragging a palm across his face. "But it seems like the gods are subjecting me to the punishment of handling both you and Bokuto-san at the same time."

You snorted out an ugly-sounding laugh, covering your mouth to somehow stifle your giggles. "I told you, you didn't have to do any of this kiss-ass shit. You could just—"

"You wanted to see my true form, didn't you?"

The tone of his voice had dipped into something more serious—one that you're unused to hearing from him when you were talking alone. Before getting to know Akaashi as well as you have now, he had just been the apathetic vice captain of the volleyball team. But from the short time you've spent with him, you figured that there was certainly more depth to his personality than he was letting on.

Yet now, he's talking to you just how he would address any other student in Fukurodani. Your smile receded slowly. Somehow, you didn't like that.

"Yeah," you replied with a lackluster intonation you hadn't meant to make. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you actually...cared about the way he talked to you. You didn't, and that was that.

With a sigh, Akaashi tilted his head up so that he was glancing at the sky. You noticed that he did that a lot—looking up at the heavens like it gave him answers you didn't know he was looking for.

When the yokai met your gaze again, no longer did you see the soothing, gunmetal blue of the human whose skin he wore like it was his own. Deep, vermillion eyes bore into you so intently, you could feel him gazing at your very soul—bare, and without any chance of deceit.

"Meet me at the cemetery on the first night of the full moon," he said, voice almost sounding ethereal in your ears, like his voice wasn't his at all. "I'll show you what you want to see so badly."

***

A few days passed since that strange encounter with Akaashi, and you haven't heard from the yokai since. Every time you tried getting a glimpse of him from outside the gym, it was either he was always out of sight or he just wasn't there to begin with. You'd even asked Kazuto, who turned out to be classmates with Akaashi, a thing or two about the said setter, but it seemed that he's called in sick for the past few days because of a nasty cold.

Yokai don't catch colds.

Nonetheless, you found yourself thinking of him less and less as the lunar festival drew closer. Your grandmother insisted that you focus on training for the track meet instead of concerning yourself with the preparations no matter how much you protested.

"You're only young for a brief time, child," she had told you. "It's your last year in high school, so you better enjoy the festival with your little friends before you all head your separate ways. Leave it to the monks and volunteers to work behind the scenes."

Seeing no point in going against her wishes, that's exactly what you did.

"Hey, (Name)! Over here!" At the bottom of the stairway that led to the Amatsuki shrine, you saw Itsumi and Kazuto idling by as your vice captain frantically waved her hands to get your attention. Overlooking the secondhand embarrassment, you picked up the pace of your descent.

Once you've managed to join them, Kazuto whistled out loud. "Looking great, cap!"

The compliment urged you to look down on your own get-up. You looked just as you did every year whenever the lunar festival came around, since you've always opted to wear the cherry blossom kimono that used to belong to your mother. But Kazuto was probably talking about the moon pin your grandmother had insisted on styling your hair with.

It was designed to look like a branch of a sakura tree dipped in silver with a crescent moon embossed in the middle. You had no time left to ask where she got it from and why she gave it you since you were running a bit late on your agreed meet-up time with the team.

"No flirting with senpais, Kazu," scolded Itsumi as she playfully smacked the younger boy across his back. "But he does have a point, though. You look spicy tonight, (Name)!"

"Sumi, I worry about you sometimes."

"Hey!"

Wading through the throng of visitors in the courtyard was none other than Bokuto, himself. His grin was as bright as the lanterns strung above the venue, the golden lights shining down on him like he was the most important person out there. Or maybe that was just because your rose-colored vision was specifically catered for the said ace. When he'd managed to squeeze past the crowd, he breathed out a sigh in relief, wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead.

"What do you think?" he asked, twisting around to show off his outfit. "I kind of had to compromise with the hakama, but the haori's red, just like Furukawa said—"

"Bokuto-san," you breathed, feeling your heart flutter at his effort alone, "you look great."

The ace blinked at you like he wasn't used to receiving compliments on the daily. It was probably just the lanterns messing with your eyes, but was he...blushing?

"So do you," he laughed. "I didn't know we were matching!"

"I didn't either," you replied, shooting Itsumi a narrow-eyed glare, to which your best friend responded by incessantly tugging on your wrist.

"Come on, you idiots!" Itsumi hollered as you let her drag you to the concessionaire stands. "Last one to get to the goldfish catching booths will treat everyone to candied apples!"

***

"I forgot how enjoyable these festivals really were."

Your ears perked up at the sound of Bokuto's voice. Sparing the ace a sideways glance, you sighed out a long breath as you propped your chin on top of your knees. "I'm glad we managed to remind you, then."

The two of you were seated on the stone steps just under the torii gates that led up to the shrine. Most of the festival's visitors have already gone up to see the shrine elder's (in this case, your grandmother's) annual performance of the lunar dance. It was dedicated to Tsukuyomi herself so that the shrine and its followers would see good fortune for the months ahead. Itsumi and Kazuto have gone ahead of the both of you, but you'd insisted on staying behind for a while.

But you didn't know that Bokuto would like to keep you company, too.

"Something on your mind?" he wondered, inching a bit closer. "You've been kinda distracted."

As you trained your gaze on the younger visitors that were still trying their hand at catching goldfish at the kingyo booths below, you breathed out an airy chuckle. "Sorry. Was I that obvious?"

"Not really," he said. "Call it a gut feeling."

"Gut feeling, huh..."

Your gut was telling you right now that you were forgetting something...something important.

But when you turned to glance at Bokuto once again, his mouth was perked up in a lopsided smile that sent a flush of heat crawling up to your cheeks. You've always found his honey-eyed gaze endearing, and knowing that he had his eyes trained on you? Under the light of the moon? The shoujo manga protagonist in you practically jumped—

Meet me at the cemetery on the first night of the full moon

"Bokuto-san," you mumbled as you shot up to your feet, startling the ace as you shot your gaze up to the sky. The moon was in perfect form today, shining oh-so brightly in the sea of stars. "I'm sorry. I have to go. I-I'll... I'm sorry."

You forced out the sound of Bokuto calling out your name from your mind, pushing down the guilt that might fester for later. Your wooden sandals collided with each step in a way that sounded like cannons in your ears. Your heart was beating abnormally fast, just like when you're trying to best another runner at a track meet. Akaashi, who's been missing in action for days now. Akaashi, who looked like he was losing his grip on his own sanity the last time you saw him. Akaashi, who was probably waiting for you at the top of the hill.

You had been the one that coerced him into this agreement, yet it slipped your mind?

When you made it to the shrine, you caught a glimpse of your grandmother's lunar dance in the blink of your eye. She faltered in her movements for a split second. Had you not spent your entire life watching her practice every year, you would've overlooked it. But it seemed that she'd noticed you darting through the audience even if you were cloaked in the darkness. You already knew you were getting a thorough questioning later, but that was at the bottom of your priorities right now.

There's something wrong, you thought. I don't know how, but something's wrong.

You pushed the gate to the cemetery back without care for the rust that coated your fingers. The foreboding was rooted deep into the pits of your heart, and you couldn't placate yourself no matter how many times you told yourself it was probably nothing. Even if you were running out of breath (which terrified you because it took a lot to make you breathless in training), you called out to the yokai.

"Akaashi!" you called out, placing your hands by your mouth to articulate your voice louder. "Are you here?"

The moonlight spilled onto the cemetery startlingly bright, illuminating the gravestones in place in a way you hadn't seen them before. As you passed by your parents' graves, muttering a quick prayer in the process, you began trekking further into the area—towards the forest that you were told to never set foot in.

The shade of the trees seemed thicker, they loomed higher than you thought they would. At the corner of your eye, you would see the shadows scuttling about, only to be met with nothing but a leaf wafting in the air when you turned around to look. The fear factor was maxed out at this point. But even if your mind yelled for you to turn around, and that you shouldn't even be here, your heart told you that you were exactly where you're supposed to be.

After a few minutes of blindly walking in the darkness, you saw the light of the moon once more as you emerged into a clearing. In the middle of it all, kneeling in a pool of blood, was Akaashi.

Or at least, you assumed it was Akaashi.

The humanoid creature had its back turned you, like it was preoccupied with something else. Its naked skin was as white as the snow that coated the shrine grounds on the first day of winter, but the mop of unruly hair on top of its head resembled Akaashi's. With blood roaring in your ears, you slowly flanked the creature from the side in attempt of getting a better look. But the sight that greeted you was something that would be burned in the back of your mind for eternity.

It—Akaashi—had a pair of horns jutting out from his forehead, tinged the same hue as his ivory skin. In his taloned hands, he had a carcass so mangled, you could no longer identify if it was an animal or not. His lips were caked in the same blood that pooled beneath him, as deranged, crimson eyes glossed over with the ecstasy from feasting on his meal.

A scream bubbled in your throat, but you knew better than to announce your presence just like that. This was what you wanted, right? To witness him in his true form? You were the one who asked for this and yet...and yet—

The sound of a twig snapping underneath your sandals echoed in the vicinity like you'd just set off a land mine. You could no longer hear him tearing the flesh from its bones, as Akaashi slowly turned to look at you.

Those weren't the eyes of the kind-hearted yokai you thought he was.

They were the eyes of a killer.

Someone was screaming as you bolted out of the clearing and back into the cemetery. They were still screaming when you nearly tripped on your own feet as you ran down the hill.

You'd only realized it was you when you barged into the shrine's foyer just after your grandmother finished the dance, weeping inconsolably in her arms for reasons that you would continue to refuse to let them know of in the days to come.

#haikyuu!!#akaashi keiji #lunaris #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #blood #gore #tw blood #tw gore

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