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merlot-and-chardonnay · 4 months

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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 26.5

Chpter 26

Masterlist

"Ivan, you're...an elf?" Aemma asks, staring at the point ears that were now exposed.

Eyes wide, Ivan, quickly covers his ears, and is prepared to make a run for it. "Ivan, wait!" Aemma calls out, running after him, "please don't go. Ivan!" Ivan ran down the hall, but Aemma was able to catch up and grab him by the arm, "Ivan, wait! Please don't run from me."

Ivan turned his gaze towards Aemma, "you won't tell anyone about this, will you?" "No...I won't tell anyone," Aemma nods, "but I would still like to talk about it. Come on." The princess takes Ivan by the arm and leads him to the library. Much as Aemma would want to find a more private place to discuss this where no one would overhear, like her room, she knew it wouldn't be considered appropriate. Especially now since the whole of the Red Keep knew of her first flowering, her maidenhood would be put under heavy scrutiny from this point on.

"So...you're an elf?" Aemma repeats. Ivan had hidden his ears back under his headband, but one thing she noticed was that the points of his ears weren't as prominent as what she saw on the elven women back at the exhibition. "Well, not quite," Ivan admits, "I am actually inh'ied." Aemma frowned at that term. "half elf," Ivan explains, "my mother was human...and my father was elven." "Half-elf?" Aemma's eyes widen a bit, "I didn't even know that was possible...for a human and an elf that is." "It's rare, but it's not unheard of," Ivan shrugs, "truthfully many humans on the Continent could probably trace their blood lines to some sort of elven ancestry. They just don't know it."

"Well, that explains the headband and hat from when we first met," Aemma said, "but...why didn't you leave with the elven women if you didn't feel safe here?" "Go with them? To Dol Blathana? They would never accept me there," Ivan scoffs, "it's one of the drawbacks of being conceived from both worlds. Ears too pointy for humans, but not pointed enough for the Aen Siedhe. At least when I have them covered I can pass well enough as human, but elves are not so easily fooled. They can sense my...d'hoine blood a league away, especially when my human emotions get the better of me. I don't belong there, and I don't belong among humans either. I haven't belonged anywhere for awhile now. Not since my own mother passed."

Aemma felt she understood. It was no secret in the court of how she came to be; a bastard daughter of the Rogue Prince and the Lady Lark. And no one had ever kept that secret from her. Had she not been proclaimed true born by her uncle, she may have been in a similar situation as Ivan. "You could still belong here, Ivan," Aemma tries to assure. "You really think so, princess?" Ivan gives Aemma an incredulous look, "if I were to take this off right now," he briefly lifts the headband off slightly to expose his ears, "if I were to show my ears in front of your cousins, in front of the whole court, do you think they would be as accepting?" Aemma sighed, giving a solemn look; Aegon certainly wouldn't, she knew that, and Aemond probably wouldn't either, especially since he'd suspected Ivan of hiding something from the beginning. Not even Jace or Luke, she felt, would be as understanding. Helaena may be the exception, but even that was speculation. Rhaenyra may not...but maybe Ser Laenor would, knowing what it was like to be different and having to hide that difference from the court around him. The other knights and nobles probably wouldn't; if anything, they would most likely gossip behind his back if not outright call him a freak to his face.

"No...I don't think they would," the princess admits, "people can be cruel, that much is true." "All the more reason I need to keep the elven part of me a secret," Ivan nods. "Ivan is an elf?!" Ivan and Aemma looked up in shock to see Aemond, eyes wide. "Aemond," Aemma gasps.

The young prince was about to turn and run, but Aemma was quick to catch up and practically tackle him to the ground. "Aemma, let go of me!" Aemond demands. "Not until you swear not to tell anyone what you just heard!" Aemma insists. Aemond continued to struggle as Ivan went around till he was in the boy's line of sight. "I knew it," Aemond sneers, "I knew there was something off about you. I knew you were hiding something. You're a...a..." "Go on, say it," Ivan challenges, "can't be worse then I've been called before in my old village in Aedirn." "Aemond-" Aemma feels the prince push her off and quickly stands, but the princess grabs him by the arm once more, "Aemond, please!" Aemond saw the desperate look on Aemma's face that mirrored Ivan's, "give me one reason why I shouldn't say anything? Why he shouldn't be thrown out?"

"Why should he be thrown out at all?!" Aemma exasperates, "because he's different? You were starting to warm up to Ivan, he was becoming your friend, it doesn't change anything." "It changes everything," Aemond insists, "he's...he's a sneak. He deceived us! He deceived you!" "He didn't have a choice," Aemma says, "you know how the elven women were treated at the docks by the Velen merchant. He could be treated worse as a half-elf. Can't you have a little empathy for him?" "Aemma-" "If you do this, Aemond, and they send him away, I'll never speak to you again," Aemma threatens.

"It's alright, princess," Ivan speaks up, "you're right, Prince Aemond, I did deceive you about what I was, I won't deny that. But I am still the person you know me to be. I'm still Ivan," he lifts his headband in slightly in a bold gesture to show Aemond his ears, "Now...you just know something else about me. Something that is just merely a part of who I am." "Aemond," Aemma speaks up, "he doesn't have anywhere else to go. Would you really be this cruel?"

Aemond looked to Aemma before turning his gaze back to Ivan, and then turned it back to Aemma. Aemond had to think about it, and both Aemma and Ivan were waiting in anticipation, "...fine...I won't say anything," he says in a soft voice. "You swear?" "...I swear," Aemond nods before Aemma lets him go. Aemond then turned to Ivan, "but I'm not letting you out of my sight. If you give me even one reason-" "You won't need a reason, my prince," Ivan nods at Aemond.

"You're wanted on the training fields," Aemond tells Ivan in a low tone, "you better go before I change my mind." Ivan gave Aemond a confused look, but decided to walk away not wanting to risk provoking the prince.

Aemma gave her cousin a stern look, "what were you even doing here, Aemond?" Aemond had to compose himself for a brief moment. Just moment before his mother gave him the box to give to Aemma, he had a rough time in the dragon pits as, once again, the now ten year old boy had not been able to claim a dragon. It wasn't fair...Aegon and Helaena had a dragon, and his younger brother had one. Luke had a dragon hatch from his egg and now Jace had one of his own, something that Aemond was starting to resent given that those were...rather plain featured compared to their mother and supposed father.

"I was...looking for you actually," Aemond finally answers, handing Aemma a small box, "this came from Oldtown. For your nameday. It's from Daeron." "Little Daeron?" Aemma accepts the box with a small smile. Daeron was the youngest of Viserys' and Alicent's children; currently the boy was spending time in Oldtown as a ward to his great uncle Hobert Hightower, the Lord of Oldtown, and his grandsire the former Hand of the King. Otto Hightower hadn't been back to King's Landing for nearly ten years, but he still wrote to Alicent and to his grandchildren on occasion. Aemma didn't really remember Otto all that much as she was still around three years when he was dismissed from the king's service.

Aemma opens the box to reveal it was a ring with what looked like purple-blue scales in the center. "This looks like this came from Tessarion's scales," she states as she puts the ring on, "a perfect fit."

"I, uh, heard what happened," Aemond changes the subject, "that uh...Your, flowering." "Yes," Aemma nods, trying now not to think about what happened afterwards. "Mother told me," Aemond explains, still feeling awkward about talking about this, "She didn't really elaborate." "Do you know what this means, Aemond?" Aemma asks. "That you are a woman now," Aemond answers, looking down at the ground, "and...that you are fit to bare Aegon his children." "Are you sad about this?" Aemma asks, feeling confused by the prince's change in demeanor. "Not at all," Aemond denies, though his tone of voice said differently, like he was trying to convince himself that he was okay with it, "this is the way things are. You are Aegon's betrothed...his future queen."

"Oh, Aemond, not you too," Aemma shakes her head. "He is the firstborn son," Aemond points out, placing a hand on Aemma's shoulder, "that makes him next in law." Aemma scoffs at that, "you are aware your father has not yet change the line of succession." "It won't change the way things are." "You're really starting to sound like your mother." "It is the natural order of things," Aemond says, "and even if Rhaenyra did supersede all of us to ascend the throne, who is going to accept her sons, her b-"

Aemond had to stop himself before he said something that could get him in trouble. "Her what, Aemond?" Aemma presses, "Jace and Luke are Rhaenyra's what?" Aemond said nothing. Aemma sighed a bit; she knew what he wanted to say, as he has heard what people would whisper in court when they believed none of the royal family (mostly Rhaenyra and Viserys) could hear. "...my mother and father were not wed when I came to be in my mother's womb, you know," Aemma speaks, "no one has ever kept that from me. I am a bastard." "You WERE a bastard," Aemond corrects, "and then Father declared you true born. You have a stronger claim to the throne then either of my nephews." "Aemond, don't be saying things like that," Aemma huffs. "Well, it's true," Aemond huffs back. "And who told you such things?" Aemma challenges. Again, Aemond said nothing.

"It was your mother wasn't it?" Aemma realized. "She didn't have to say anything," Aemond insists, "you've seen Jace and Luke. Anyone with eyes can see."

Aemma sighed before placing a hand on Aemond's shoulder, "even if these things are true, Aemond, we can't let it divide us. We are the house of the Dragon, we have to stand strong, or else we'll be torn apart. That's what your father says, does he not?" Aemond only turned his gaze away, refusing to say anything.

Aemma only sighed, "Jace and Luke are no more dragons then you or I. Last I recall, that's the only thing that matters in this family."

With that, Aemma, turned and left the library.

Later that day, Aemma was invited to supper with Rhaenyra who indulged in meat pies and apple juice along with cakes for dessert (she's near nine months pregnant, woman's entitled to a little vice). Aemma was content to sip some tea and nibble on some fruit while also indulging in some cake.

Although Aemma was still had faith in her cousin, she could feel Alicent's words haunt her in the back of her mind. She still couldn't imagine Rhaenyra was even capable of committing the act of kin slaying, even if it met protecting her claim to the throne. "Princess?" Aemma decides to speak. "Hmmm?" Rhaenyra nods as she sips some juice. Aemma wasn't sure what to think about what to even say. She didn't want Rhaenyra to accuse her of slander, or confront Alicent later on, especially in the state she was in now.

"I uh, I wanted to discuss something." "About what?" "Well," Aemma begins, "I wanted to know what married life is like." "You are concerned for your impending marriage to Aegon?" Rhaenyra asks to which Aemma nods. "It's just...Aegon and I...we used to play together as children, but now we've grown apart. I just don't know how we are to build a life together when the only time he'll spend with me is when his mother demands it of him. How am I to raise his children if he will not commit to his duties to me or to his offspring?"

Rhaenyra was silent for a moment before she gave an answer, "well since you are no longer a child, I may as well give you the truths that no one else seems to have the courage to say. A marriage is nothing more than duty, a political arrangement to form alliances and strengthen bonds between family lines. This is especially so for Highborn folk such as ourselves. For our house, many of our marriages have often been between brother and sister, cousins, and so forth, for the purpose of keeping our Valyrian blood pure. This is something your father had told me. It is different for a man then it is for a woman, however, and we women have to be more discrete in whatever...extra affairs we may carry out in our marriage, lest we hand over ammunition to those vultures in court to use against us." Aemma raised an eyebrow at that, "what do you suggest I do for my marriage, princess?" "...you merely do your duty," Rhaenyra answers, "gods willing, my half-brother will do the same...and then once you've produced a child or two, the two of you will do as you see fit."

"I must confess I am scared of the idea of being with child," Aemma admits. "Well, it's not all sunshine and roses, I'll give you that," Rhaenyra laughs a little, adjusting herself to be a little more comfortable, "especially in the last few months or so." "But, there's always the possibility I could die," Aemma says, "your mother died in the child bed. I was named after her...so what if that means I am to meet the same fate?" Rhaenyra places a comforting hand on Aemma's, "I won't let it come to that," she assures, "if you wish, I will be with you every step of the way the day of your labors."

Aemma smiled at that...she knew then and there that what Alicent had said about Rhaenyra was wrong. The princess did care about her as family, loved her as such. "Thank you," Aemma gives a small nod towards her cousin and the two finish their supper while making small talk.

----------later that night---------------

The hour was dark as Aemma slept for the first time in weeks.

When she felt herself start to slip into a dream state. There was something about this dream. It wasn't Rivia, it wasn't quite like what Aemma had seen before. It wasn't easy to describe but for one reason or another it felt strangely peaceful.

Aemma looked towards one place and another. It looked like a field of grass that seemed to stretch out for leagues. The princess stood there in a simple dress with no shoes. She looked around, having the urge to call out into the empty field, "hello?" she calls out, "Is anyone out there? Hello?"

Aemma looked to and fro once more. There was something off about this place, she sensed. She'd never been here before, she didn't even know where here was. She didn't believe it was anywhere in Westeros, not in the North, the Reach, or the River lands. And she didn't not believe she was on the Continent either.

Suddenly it had grown cold, and Aemma started to shiver. She's cold before, but this didn't feel natural. Frost and ice began to form as storm clouds began to gather.

Hearing shouts and jeers, Aemma turned around to see horses appear forth from a portal along with strange monsters made of ice. Atop the horses were men in armor...at least she thought they were men, they seemed awfully tall for the average human. Were they giants of some kind? Like the ones that are said to reside beyond the Wall in the North? The armor concealed their faces.

Aemma wasn't sure if she should run, but this strange army ran past her and the strange men spoke in a language she could not decipher.

They ran past her. Aemma was confused by this all, until she jumped from a hand being placed on her shoulder. The princess turned to see a woman with ashen hair, dressed in strange clothes, and a sword strapped to her back. Aemma did not recognize this woman, yet she felt they had met once before. "Who are you?" Aemma asks the young woman. "Who I am does not matter," the woman answers, "but now I must go. The Lark and the Wolf need my help."

"The Lark and-" Aemma turned to face this supernatural army. She saw a woman astride one of the horses, not dressed in armor like the strange men were. Aemma squinted to see get a better look. She felt she knew who the woman was.

"Mother?"

Aemma suddenly bolted from bed, panting slightly, as she looked back and forth, only to sigh in relief when she realized she was back in her room. She laid back down, relaxing somewhat. She still couldn't help but wonder what that dream was about.

But one thing she did feel was certain...her mother was somehow still alive.

------------------------------------------

The following morning, Aemma had wondered down the halls, intending to look for any texts at the library that may help explain what her dream meant.

On the way she bumped into Aegon, "excuse me, cousin," she says, quickly side stepping the teenage boy. "You don't seem all that well rested," Aegon notices. Aemma gave Aegon a confused look, wondering why he was suddenly taking an interest in her well-being...probably because his mother said so, "Just a fitful sleep last night is all." "Well I do hope those won't be recurring often once we share a bed of our own, my soon to be wife," Aegon says, a suggestive smirk on his face.

Aemma only rolled her eyes. "I am merely stating the truth," Aegon points out, "We are to be wed, cousin, have you forgotten?" "I have not forgotten," Aemma sneers, "but I was beginning to think you had. But what do you care? This marriage is only a political arrangement. I know when you're not doing as you mother bids, you'll do as you see fit...and so will I." "So...you attend to spread your legs for other men then?" Aegon challenges as Aemma walks away, "you would risk producing bastards? Like Princess Rhaenyra does...as did your mother?"

Aemma stopped in her tracks, "...don't you dare speak of my mother," she warns, "you did not know her." "Neither did you," Aegon sneers back, "you were only a tot when she left you." "She did not leave, she was abducted," Aemma insists, "she was going to come back." "If your mother was abducted, why did your father never make an effort to find her?" Aegon points out, "why not travel back this mystical Continent on top his dragon and rescue your maiden mother from that villainous White Wolf? If you ask me, I don't think he abducted her at all. I say she left with him willingly." "Stop it." "She probably spread her legs for him like the mutant loving whore that she was." "Take that back!" Aemma demands.

"No I won't," Aegon scoffs. "Take. It. BACK!" Aemma shoved Aegon.

"That's what your mother is, all she'll ever be," Aegon insists, refusing to back down, "and it's time you accept she left you to be with him. She was whore, first for your father and then for that white hair freak, and that's what it seems like what you intend to be. You were better off never knowing her, I say it was good that she died!"

At this moment, Aemma could only see red as she watch Aegon walk away. She growled like a wild animal, a dragon that had just woke. She yanked Aegon by the hair and shoved him to the ground before getting on him and proceeded to beat the shit out of her cousin.

Chapter 27

#hotd #the witcher #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond x oc #helaena targaryen #jacerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #laenor velaryon

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donttalkaboutmemes · 2 years

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The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) Lyric Meme

Under the cut you will find 110+ sentences from the 1996 version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame to use for your enjoyment!

CW: Use of the g word referring to Roma people

The Bells of Notre Dame

1. “Some say the soul of the city’s the toll of the bells.”

2. “Dark was the night when our tale was begun.”

3. “He saw corruption everywhere except within.”

4. “See there the innocent blood you have spilt?”

5. “You would add this child’s blood to your guilt.”

6. “You can lie to yourself and your minions. You can claim that you haven’t a qualm.”

7. “You never can run from nor hide what you’ve done from the very eyes of Notre Dame.”

8. “Even this foul creature may yet prove one day to be of use to me.”

9. “Here is a riddle to guess if you can.”

10. “Who is the monster and who is the man?”

Out There

11. “The world is cruel.”

12. “The world is wicked.”

13. “It’s I alone who you can trust in this whole city. I am your only friend.”

14. “How can I protect you unless you always stay in here?”

15. “You are deformed and you are ugly, and these are crimes for which the world shows little pity.”

16. “You are my one defender.”

17. “Out there they’ll revile you as a monster.”

18. “I am a monster. Only a monster.”

19. “Out there they will hate and scorn and jeer.”

20. “Why invite their calumny and consternation?”

21. “Stay in here. Be faithful to me, grateful to me.”

22. “Do as I say. Obey and stay in here.”

23. “All my life I watch them as I hide up here alone, hungry for the histories they show me.”

24. “All my life I memorize their faces, knowing them as they will never know me.”

25. “All my life I wonder how it feels to pass a day not above them, but part of them.”

26. “Give me one day out there. All I ask is one to hold forever.”

27. “If I was in their skin, I’d treasure every instant.”

28. “Taste a morning out there like ordinary men.”

29. “Just one day and then I swear I’ll be content with my share.”

30. “Won’t regret, won’t despair. Old and bent, I won’t care. I’ll have spent one day out there.”

Topsy Turvy

31. “It’s the day for breaking rules.”

32. “Come and join the feast of fools.”

33. “Once a year we throw a party here in town.”

34. “Every man’s a king and every king’s a clown.”

35. “It’s the day the devil in us gets released.”

36. “It’s the day we mock the prig and shock the priest.”

37. “Everything is topsy turvy at the feast of fools.”

38. “Hurry, hurry here’s your chance! See the mystery and romance!”

39. “See the finest girl in France make an entrance to entrance.”

40. “Here it is, the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

41. “Here it is, you know exactly what’s in store.”

42. “Now’s the time we laugh until our sides get sore.”

43. “Now’s the time we crown the king of fools!”

44. “Make a face that’s horrible and frightening.”

45. “We’ve never had a king like this.”

46. “It’s the day we do the things that we deplore on the other three hundred and sixty-four.”

47. “Once a year we love to drop in where the beer is never stopping.”

God Help The Outcasts

48. “I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you’re even there.”

49. “I don’t know if you would listen to a gypsy’s prayer.”

50. “I know I’m just an outcast, I shouldn’t speak to you.”

51. “Still, I see your face and wonder, were you once an outcast too?”

52. “God help the outcasts, hungry from birth.”

53. “Show them the mercy they don’t find on earth.”

54. “God help my people. We look to you still.”

55. “God help the outcasts, or nobody will.”

56. “I ask for wealth.”

57. “I ask for fame.”

58. “I ask for glory to shine on my name.”

59. “I ask for love I can possess.”

60. “I ask for God and his angels to bless me.”

61. “I ask for nothing, I can get by. But I know so many less lucky than I.”

62. “Please help my people, the poor and down trod. I thought we all were the children of God.”

Heaven’s Light

63. “So many times out there, I’ve watched a happy pair of lovers walking in the night. They had a glow around them. It almost looked like heaven’s light.”

64. “I knew I’d never know that warm and loving glow, though I might wish with all my might.”

65. “No face as hideous as my face was ever meant for heaven’s light.”

66. “Suddenly an angel has smiled at me and kissed my cheek without a trace of fright.”

67. “I dare to dream that she might even care for me.”

68. “My cold dark tower seems so bright. I swear it must be heaven’s light.”

Hellfire

69. “You know I am a righteous man. Of my virtue, I am justly proud.”

70. “You know I’m so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd.”

71. “Tell me why I see her dancing there, why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul.”

72. “I feel her. I see her.”

73. “The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control.”

74. “This burning desire is turning me to sin.”

75. “It’s not my fault. I’m not to blame.”

76. “It’s not my fault if in God’s plan he made the devil so much stronger than a man.”

77. “Don’t let this siren cast her spell.”

78. “Don’t let her fire sear my flesh and bone.”

79. “Let her taste the fires of Hell or else let her be mine and mine alone.”

80. “Choose me or your pyre. Be mine or you will burn.”

81. “God have mercy on her. God have mercy on me.”

82. “She will be mine or she will burn.”

A Guy Like You

83. “The city of lovers is glowing this evening. True, that’s because it’s on fire. But still, there’s l’amour.”

84. “Somewhere out there in the night her heart is also alight.”

85. “I know the guy she just might be burning for.”

86. “A guy like you she’s never known.”

87. “A guy like you a girl does not meet every day.”

88. “You’ve got a look that’s all your own, kid.”

89. “Could there be two like you? No way!”

90. “Those other guys that she could dangle all look the same from every boring point of view.”

91. “You’re a surprise from every angle.”

92. “She’s gotta love a guy like you.”

93. “A guy like you gets extra credit because, it’s true, you got a certain something more.”

94. “You see that face, you don’t forget it.”

95. “We all have gaped at some Adonis, but then we crave a meal more nourishing to chew.”

96. “Call me a hopeless romantic, but I feel it.”

97. “Who wouldn’t love a guy like you?”

98. “You got a lot the rest have not.”

Court of Miracles

99. “Maybe you’ve heard of a terrible place where the scoundrels of Paris collect in a lair?”

100. “Maybe you’ve heard of that mythical place called the Court of Miracles? Hello, you’re there!”

101. “The dead don’t talk, so you won’t be around to reveal what you’ve found.”

102. “We have a method for spies and intruders, rather like hornets protecting their hive.”

103. “Justice is swift in the Court of Miracles. I am the lawyers and judge all in one.”

104. “We like to get the trail over with quickly, because it’s the sentence that’s really the fun.”

105. “We find you totally innocent, which is the worst crime of all.”

The Bells of Notre Dame (Reprise)

106. “What makes a monster and what makes a man?”

Someday

107. “I pray someday we may yet live to live and let live.”

108. “Someday life will be fairer.”

109. “God speed this bright millennium on its way.”

110. “Someday our fight will be won then.”

111. “’Til then on days when the sun is gone, we’ll hang on and we’ll wish upon the moon.”

112. “A prayer for something better is the one thing we all share.”

#ask meme #askbox meme #rp meme #roleplaying meme #lyric meme #disney meme #the hunchback of notre dame #cw: g slur

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years

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Every Emma Woodhouse Ranked and Rated

With all my reviews of all the period-set adaptations now finished, I'm beginning my series in which I rate and rank each interpretation of all the principle characters, starting with our girl Emma!

Now I wanna be clear--I am not rating the actresses that played Emma. I am rating how the character was handled in general in each adaptation. The actresses are a factor, but they're not the sole factor, since the writer and director have as much, if not more, to do with how the character ends up in the finished product. So without futher ado, let's rank...

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her….

“The real evils indeed of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much of her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself; these were the disadvantages that threatened alloy to her many enjoyments.”

NUMBER 5: 1972

Portrayed by: Doran Godwin

Age at time of filming: 28

Clocking in as the oldest actress to play Austen’s famously TWENTY-ONE year old heroine (at the ripe age of 28), Doran Godwin also snags the coveted position as inhabiting the worst portrayal of the character (in my personal estimation) to date.

Just about everything about this interpretation of Emma Woodhouse is bad, from her seemingly automated recital of her lines to her all-too-intense, wide-eyed, hypnotic stare. The 1972 portrayal of Emma highlights all the character’s worst qualities while also failing to convincingly communicate her good qualities, such as her caring nature. The script is equally to blame for the awfulness of this interpretation, adding unnecessarily cruel and condescending lines, including one where she negs Harriet for being sad after Elton’s marriage, and then forces Harriet to come with her to meet the new Mrs. Elton, when Emma in the book did her best to shield Harriet from exactly that kind of situation.

Godwin couldn’t pass for 21 if her life had depended on it, and the worst part is that the script actually states Emma’s age, so she seems like a bit of a crazy spinster, preying on the naïve Harriet. Whether it’s her intent to bathe in Harriet’s blood to keep herself young, or to bake her into a pie is up for debate.

Rating: 1/5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 4: 2020

Portrayed by: Anya Taylor Joy

Age at time of filming: 23

I thought long and hard about this. This movie is a modern period drama phenomenon. It’s gotten so many people into Jane Austen and satisfied long-time Austen fans by giving them an interpretation they never dared hope to see. It’s a gorgeous film.

But I don’t like this interpretation of Emma Woodhouse. Though Anya Taylor Joy is one of the youngest actresses to play Emma (only two years older than the character) she’s played with a careful stiffness that perhaps shows us a glimpse of the Lady Catherine she might turn into without swift intervention. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and this isn’t a commentary on Anya Taylor Joy either—her appearance or her acting ability—but I just don’t like her as Emma. And she’s not the sole problem, she turns in a solid performance, she’s a good actress, but something about this characterization is just off-color to me. Anya Taylor Joy plays a great mean-girl; but I think that’s one of the reasons why they thought she’d be a good choice for this role, and it’s one of the prime reasons I don’t think she wasright for it. Emma is a deeply flawed character and, of course, the biggest turning point in her story comes as a result of a thoughtlessly mean remark to someone who has only ever shown her deference, hospitality and gratitude.

All that said, Emma is not, at her core, a cruel person. Emma has gone all her life thinking condescending things about Miss Bates but it’s only when Frank comes along and validates her less kind commentaries that she actually starts to voice them in search of validation from a peer.

The problem with this in the context of 2020’s Emma Woodhouse is that Frank hardly gets a look-in in this adaptation. Emma’s relationship with him is severely underdeveloped and the actors don’t have enough chemistry to pull it off in the limited time they’re given. The result is that Emma appears to cross a line just to cross it, and it pushes Emma’s character from thoughtless to out-and-out frigid.

Still better than Doran Godwin, since she's identifiably human.

Rating: 2 1/2 / 5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 3: 1996 (MIRAMAX)

Portrayed by: Gwyneth Paltrow

Age at time of filming: 24

Despite the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow was an appalling casing choice for Emma Woodhouse (I will be forever salty that they passed over Joely Richardson), and I know there are some who will think me, at best, crazy (sacrilegious, at worst) for ranking 1996’s interpretation of Emma higher than 2020, I actually feel that solidly in the middle is right where this version of the character belongs.

There’s so much wrong with this Emma: she swings from mature to bizarrely infantile at the drop of a hat, much of her script is genuinely tragic, Gwyneth can’t convincingly portray Emma's social naiveté, her accent is overwhelmingly nasal and impossible to listen to, just for starters.

And yet… I don’t hate her. I don’t like her particularly either, but even though much of the dialogue re-working butchered Austen’s prose, there are a lot of things McGrath seems to have gotten right about Emma’s character. Her relationship with Knightley feels comfortable and playful, and, while Emma of the book probably doesn’t really care for Harriet Smith in the spirit of true bosom friendship, I believe she does care about her and wishes to spare her (further) pain. She shows exasperation with Harriet while still being patient with her, which is very much in the spirit of the book. Her concern for Harriet at the ball feels real, and her contrition at Box Hill following Knightley’s rebuke, while not profound, at least feels like contrition and not self-pity.

Perhaps, given the soft-take that the Miramax version is, it shouldn’t be surprising that the biggest faults in characterization rest on awkward writing and the biggest triumphs highlight Emma’s better side. It’s not a very in-depth take on the character, but it at least, is an adequate one.

Rating: 3/5 Half-finished portraits

NUMBER 2: 1996/97 (ITV)

Portrayed by: Kate Beckinsale

Age at time of filming: 23

Those who’ve read my reviews of each adaptation of Emma might be surprised to see ITV’s portrayal of the title character sitting so high on my list. To be frank, it’s a distant second, and she may have stolen the number two spot only because she’s played by Kate Beckinsale and not Gwyneth Paltrow.

In truth, I see a lot of parallels between 1997’s Emma and 2020’s. Both actresses were 23 (or thereabouts) when they played the role, both have extremely childish moments, and both crumple down and burst into tears that don’t feel entirely genuine after Box Hill.

So why is 1997 on the good side of the number 3 spot and 2020 isn’t? I’m not precisely sure. I think it may be because Andrew Davies (and/or Diarmuid Lawrence) at least understood the scale of Emma Woodhouse’s wealth and status. This Emma feels sufficiently self-important, a bit haughty, sure—but she’s also believably naïve. You feel her isolation, you understand her caring relationship with her father, and she’s not as patently rude to Robert Martin compared to the 2020 version (she at least acknowledges his presence when he meets Emma and Harriet in the lane).

Grudging though this favorable placement may be, I can at least acknowledge that Emma herself is the least of my problems with this version, and even though Beckinsale’s acting is a bit sketchy at certain points, she also has some truly great moments, especially her interaction with Robert Martin at the end of the film. This portrayal is consistent, and Emma’s better qualities aren’t overpowered by her negative ones.

Rating: 4/5 Half-finished portraits

Number 1: 2009

Portrayed by: Romola Garai

Age at time of filming: 26

And in a shocking twist—I’m kidding this is neither shocking nor unexpected to anyone who knows me or has read my blog/reviews of the Emma adaptations. Am I totally biased? Probably. I don’t care, this is a completely subjective list. Here, finally—my first and true love as Emma Woodhouse—is Romola Garai. I suppose it’s also not surprising that the first actress I ever saw in the role would still be my favorite a decade on. I just love everything about this interpretation of the character. She rides the very difficult line of being bright, caring and intelligent, while also being completely naïve and lacking in social savvy (in her own age-group at least), coddled, and painfully sure of her own self-importance.

Even though Garai was 25 or 26 at the time (far too old for the character—almost as old as Doran Godwin) her energy and charisma are enough that she’s able to carry it off convincingly. Everything about this Emma screams youth, and when Emma’s child-like social ignorance is her most prominent characteristic, it feels authentic and natural. Equally authentic are her emotions—her love for her family, her dynamic with Knightley, he exasperation, patience, and concern with Harriet. Most of all though, this Emma seems to experience the most maturation in the last quarter of the story. Box Hill really feels like a turning point—not just a chastened young woman, but a true coming-of-age moment. Emma faces a reckoning here that begins a chain reaction culminating in her realization of her feelings for Knightley, and everything from the writing to Garai’s performance conveys the magnitude of this shift in Emma’s life.

This version of the character seems the most… complete to me. Somehow, between Romola Garai’s vibrancy, Sandy Welch’s screenplay and Jim O’Hanlon’s direction, this interpretation takes an extremely divisive character and helps the viewer understand just why everyone in Highbury loves Emma Woodhouse.

Rating: 5/5 Half-finished portraits

~~~~

If you liked this, check out my rankings of Mr. and Mrs. Weston

#emma woodhouse #jane austen emma #jane austen #period drama #emma 2020 #emma 2009 #emma 1996 #emma 1972 #romola garai #kate beckinsale #anya taylor joy #gwyneth paltrow

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jayteacups · 2 years

Note

For the AOT anniversary ask!

15, 26, 39

Heyy! Thank you for the questions <3 things got long especially for question 15 I'm so sorry 😭

15. Controversial opinion?

Ooo uh time to criticse Yam's writing a little 🙈 please no one get mad (and disclaimer I really do respect him and the story he's shared but I am just nitpicking a little, because some fans refuse to admit that there are some flaws in his writing or that some complaints are genuinely valid so uh yeah)

I feel like quite a lot of the characters are wasted and could've had a lot of potential and impact on the story if they'd lived longer - ERWIN (I love Armin dearly, of course, but like everyone I always wonder what would happen if Erwin was still alive), Ymir, KENNY, Miche and his squad, Levi squad, Historia post Uprising arc (Isayama explain), Furlan and Isabel, like?? So much lost potential. I know that Isayama kills them off for shock effect and to emphasise how cruel the world is but there was just a lot of squandered potential.

Also the worldbuilding outside of Paradis is kind of weak in my opinion. Past Paradis, Marley and Hizuru we know nearly nothing about the world.

Also I found it kinda weird that the Paradisian government is just so??? I feel like some of the writing on that regard was kinda just wack. I was discussing this with someone a short while ago but the decisions the royals/government makes is so weird and stupid, how did nobody even think to question them before Erwin started plotting... the brass sent off thousands of civilians to die to 'retake Wall Maria' aka reduce the population, they decided to wipe out entire clans just to keep the King's secret and killed so many more people to prevent technological advancements and to prevent people from discovering what truly was outside the Walls... and there's a lot of potential in exploring those things but nope.

The culling is hardly ever addressed after Armin discovers his grandad's death, the Ackerman and Azumabito persecutions are hardly ever talked about - you'd think Mikasa would have SOMETHING to say about that considering she belongs to both clans and that she was nearly sold as a sex slave because she was seen as an 'exotic oddity', and she was only seen as exotic etc. because all the other Azumabitos were dead..., you'd think Levi would have something to say about that now that he discovered the only reason his mum was working in a brothel in the Underground was because the government was literally out to kill her for her surname and she had nowhere else to go... basically it's just weird how nobody ever questioned it whilst it was happening, and it's odd how the survivors of said persecutions never talked about it in the present day (give us Ackertalk or give us nothing). Even in the Uprising arc where they overthrow the government, where we get that scene with Kenny's grandad talking about how the crown fears the Ackermans, it's just kinda odd that so many of those incidents are brushed under the rug and never mentioned again or expanded upon. There's suspension of disbelief, and then there's 'your government literally are the villains at this point why does nobody care'. Like??? Was there not a single noble or politician that at least tried to uncover their secrets, or tried to stop all this from happening? Was there not a single civilian that went 'hang on a minute why are my neighbours and their relatives being chased out of their homes all of a sudden'? Outside of Uprising Armin never talks about what the government took away from him - both his granddad and his parents... basically I have questions. Is that controversial or is that a common belief in the fandom idk. Anyway TLDR the writing surrounding the Paradisian government is kinda weak.

(also not really a controversial opinion or a serious complaint but I would love to see more storyes expanded in this universe - like the beginnings of Eldia and the Great Titan War and perhaps a little more on Kenny's life and how he built his reputation, how did he split off from Kuchel, etc.)

26. Who would be your best friend irl?

Armin! I think I've mentioned that if I was to 'kin' anyone it would probably be him? And a lot of my irl friends are similar to me so it would make sense that Armin and I would get along well due to those similarities. We're both quiet, book-smart people, not known for being particularly athletic/physically strong, the dependable friend, etc. I also feel like I'd get on well with Onyankopon, he seems like a calm, thoughtful person who I could have many discussions about the world with lol

39. Who’d be the best roommate? The worst?

For me I'd like a quiet roommate who's tidy and clean and not afraid to deal with the spiders for me BUT before you assume I'm gonna say Levi, realistically Levi would drive me insane with his nagging to get me to vacuum like every day. So my answer would again be Armin because he's responsible and approachable but won't get pissed if he sees one speck of dust because I've gone three days without hoovering lol. But if this is in an American uni context where I'd have to dorm with one of the ladies (because the dorms are single-sex over there, right? In the UK - or at least the uni I go to - we have flatmates but we don't have proper roommates lol), I'd pick Nanaba, she seems very chill. Nice, responsible, but not overbearing.

The worst roommate by far would be Floch he wouldn't give a shit whether or not I'm asleep when he comes back home at like 3am, doesn't bother to do chores, brings around his friends all the time who are noisy as heck, wouldn't even acknowledge my existence, it's a nightmare. For the ladies... I suppose Yelena because she would be kinda flaky and never be around to do chores lol.

AOT 9th Anniversary ask game

#moots: eliza #darling moots <3 #aot anniversary ask game #ask game

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razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Twin Snowflakes 26: Preparation

[part 2 of 2]

Another day, another classroom bell. As far as Monday’s go, today was pretty harmless for Summer. Classes went by fast, Veronica only nagged her about what to eat for lunch, and P.E. was used for tournament announcements so she didn’t have to change. In a few minutes she’ll be able to walk out of the student council meeting and go home to escape-

“We’re all staying after school today, all of us.” Eliza said, filing papers.

Summer planted her head on the table. “Why do you hate me!? I’m nothing but kind to you.” She whined.

“Stop crying! Did you expect to go into the tournament performance cold turkey? This isn’t one of your concerts. Multiple things need to work at once. Which is why Harriet was kind enough to keep a platform up to act as a stage in the gym. You and your brother will have the band’s support.

Nick’s face turned to terror. He could see Summer’s face begin to get excited. “Summer, I know that look. Please remember that neither the band nor I are as skilled as you. Don’t go full dictator on us.”

She could only laugh and smile energetically. “That won’t be a problem if you hit the notes.”

“Not what I wanted to hear, Summer!”

Veronica got up from the table and packed her things. “You all have fun. I’m gonna get started on that outfit. The materials should be at your house by now.”

“Not so fast.” Eliza interjected, “Did you forget that you’re filling in on the cheer team? Their practice starts in fifteen minutes.”

“B-But my fabrics!” She gasped.

Eliza folded her arms confidently. “Sorry, tough luck. Harriet saw your moves and she gets what she wants. If only Amber didn’t twist her leg.”

Nick let out a snicker before hiding his smile from Veronica. Karma is a cruel mistress.

“I myself will oversee everything as best as I can while leading my own rehearsal. Don’t think twice to come find me, or the President, who should really be the one leading this meeting.”

“Nah you’re on a roll.”He smiled.

She gave him a glare before continuing. “Anyways, I also need somebody to let Valerie know the water heater is screwed up again and also that she should at least help with hauling supplies to Amity Arena; since she so rudely skipped this meeting.”

All of the council and other student body members turned to Nick instinctively. It was warranted but man did it blow. Summer glady stood up to take the bullet.

“I will tell her everything she needs to know, after rehearsals.”

“Works for me. Let’s move people! Time is ticking.” Eliza gathered her belongings and went out the door with the rest of the staff. Summer and Veronica gave him a nudge as they walked by. “You two still have enough time to do the outfit?”

“I fixed your sister’s uniforms in no time at all. I already have all her measurements I need so the annoying part is over.”

“What she said.” Summer added. “At this point I guess I’m being moved to wherever I’m supposed to be. Eugh, after school, even the name hurts my throat.”

“Think of it like this. We get to spend all day with Eliza!” Nick yelled out the door cheekily.

“I will answer none of your questions!” She yelled back, knowing she basically has to spend the entire day around Nick. She hadn’t told him yet but she was going to accept his offer. Her curiosity about his plan was too strong. The tournament was quickly approaching. Every step forward counts. Time to kick things into high gear.

Nick found the strength to leave the table and face judgment. “Alright, let’s get this pain over with.”

“Quit exaggerating! I will be a humble singing instructor.”

xxxxx

“COME ON NICK! YOU CALLED THAT A HARMONY!?” Summer was not humble, or quiet for that matter. “I know you can do better!”

Nick endured the criticism as he sipped his water. He was prepared for this but obviously the band wasn’t. Summer had everyone in their group scared stiff and onlookers watching in awe. This might be the first time they’ve heard her speak in school, let alone emote.

Her fiery nature was on full display and it’s intensity was higher than her ponytail. Free from uniform constraints, she wore compression tights and a thin long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame. Summer looked more sporty right now than she has in her entire school life.

The many eyes on the twins' practice didn’t seem to bother her. “Let’s take it from the top.” She grabbed her guitar and began to play immediately. A quick glare to the drummer snapped him out of his trance and got him to play, making the rest fall in line. Live practice was never a thing she did often. People ceased the opportunity all around the gym to watch magic be created before their ears.

Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold.

But you will remember me~

Remember me for centuries~

She nodded to Nick and he gripped his mic.

And just one mistake... is all it will take.

We’ll go down in history~

Their breathing synced up.

REMEMBER ME FOR CENTURIES~

Summer raised her fist, silencing the band. The performer turned towards her brother and band. A fraction of a smile crept onto her face. “Better. Not perfect, but much better.” She took a sip of water. “Not to be tyrant-”

“Yet here we are.” Nick said, earning a few laughs from the band and a glare from his sis. “What!? I’m boosting morale!”

“I know. It’s the only reason I’m not chewing your head off. Here I was about to compliment you too.”

“The biggest compliment you can give me is letting us finish the song completely. We’ve only gone about a fourth through it. Everyone knows this song.”

“Anybody can know a song but few feel it. I know you know this. The crowd at the tournament is gonna want hype and they’ll most likely sing along. Our job is to cultivate it to its peak. We are the opening of the event. I picked this song for a reason. If we come out firing on all cylinders then I know we can ride the wave through the whole song! Let me feel your hype, your energy!”

Nick pursed his lips. “If you want energy, then you let these guys have fun! Ice breaker time!” Nick spun around and pointed to the band. “Give me a funky beat!”

The members looked at one another, shrugging before kicking in a fun, funky classic; Billie Jean!

Nick let out the biggest “Yeah~” then started moonwalking around Summer. “Come on Summer, you can’t resist the beat!”

“Really? Of all the songs you think I’m just gonna-” She kicked her leg out and then twirled to the microphone.

She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene…!

Nick hopped with joy before chiming in as the band jammed out. Eliza watched the two from off stage with her color guard troop in disbelief, joined by Veronica seconds later in her cheerleader uniform. Eliza waved her hand to her group. “Guys, take ten. I guess it’s break time.”

“Those two seem to be having a ball. They always like this with council stuff?”

“Hardly. It’s the only reason why I’m not yelling at them right now. Can’t remember the last time they looked happy to participate. They can laugh their lungs out as long as the work gets done. Might motivate the others. Anyways, how are you holding up?”

“Oh you know, as much as a newbie could be in this situation.” Veronica shook her pom-poms for dramatic effect. “Feels nice to do something like this again though. It’s like wearing an old glove.”

“History with cheerleading?”

“Gymnastics, my ribbon work doesn’t stop with a needle. That was some time ago but I digress.”

“I see. Well...you move like a pro.” Eliza said, a little stuttery. She played with her hands a bit while focusing on the twins.

Her elevated heart rate rang like a bell while her movements reminded Veronica of herself whenever she first met Coco Axel. “So...a little birdy told me I got a fan of my work here? Got any clue who?” She teased, enjoying Eliza's jump a little. Poor girl's cheeks went red.

Eliza felt a crushing betrayal. “Which twin opened their big mouth?”

“Is the ‘who’ that important?”

“Ah so it’s both?”

Veronica tucked her lips in. “Uhhh I won’t confirm or deny that. To think I’d have a fan all the way up in Atlas?”

“Please, we don’t have to discuss .”

“Why not? No reason to hide it. I’m honestly flattered by it. Civil rights movements don’t attract the right kind of like-minded individuals typically. Then there’s the obvious regional differences.”

“Huh? Regional differences?” Eliza tilted her head. “Have faunus here been giving you a hard time?”

“No, but that’s because I’m making zero effort to approach them. Faunus here as a whole are treated crueler than other places. An outsider like me coming in and trying to ‘relate’ never goes over smoothly.”

Eliza was surprised. She had never heard of that before. “Oh, I guess I was being a bit presumptuous. Apologies.”

“No it’s fine. It’s just one of those annoying little things. A lot of the preach about wanting a voice and equality but sing a different tune when those voices start speaking because they aren’t the ones those people had in their heads. Sigh, we faunus are fickle creatures.”

“Boy, sounds like you hate your job?”

Veronica laughed, “Haha! I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe it’s my unique circumstance but as far as my personal beliefs go, Faunus and Humans are basically the same. They both hate and judge others far too viciously due to bias. I may advocate for our rights, but I’m not above calling ourselves out. It’s probably why the elders especially don’t care for my efforts.”

Veronica turned to Eliza and smiled. “Sorry, rambled for a bit there. Hope I’m ruining your hero perception of me. That is if I am a hero to you?”

“No. Wait! I mean it’s not ruined! You’re definitely inspiring to me. So much in fact that I got a cool magazine cover of you!” It took a minute, but Eliza’s brain registered what she had just said. “I…why did I tell you that?” Eliza facepalmed.

Vee was in shock. Her jaw slowly fell open. “Wow, you are a total fangirl right now. I didn’t think you could look embarrassed. Ha, you’re adorable blushing!”

“Please don’t talk about it…”

“Can I see the magazine cover? I’ll be honest. I rarely pay attention to those puff pieces. My mom handles all that.”

“Really?” Eliza patted her pockets before pulling out her scroll. “It’s from your rally in Vale.”

Veronica had a peek. “Oh I remember this!” The picture was from a year ago. Vale’s rally was pretty huge and loud. The photo was taken right when she had stood proudly on top of a car with a megaphone, protesters following her to city hall. “Not to toot my own horn but look so cool in this.”

“It’s surprising you’ve never seen it.”

“My eyes are usually glued to my sketchbook or a threaded needle. If I’m looking at myself then it’s in the mirror to see how fabric falls onto me or someone else. Speaking of clothes, maybe I can make you an outfit? First one is free. Just wear it to an event; tell your friends about it.”

Eliza lit up, but then immediately started to cringe. “An event is no problem. However...uhhh, yeah, rain check in the whole friend part. A social butterfly, I am not. Don’t have friends.”

“Uh Nick and Summer?”

“Gross.”

Veronica could barely stop herself from laughing out loud. The speed in which Eliza answered was swift to say the least. “Wow, and I thought the twin’s aunt was blunt? Are you sure that message is clear to them, because I’m positive they think you’re a friend.”

“I’m friendly, but not a friend.”

“Do you have their number?”

“Yes.”

“Sad to say you’re their friend. Don’t fight it.”

“What!? That’s not how- what!? From what I understand you and Summer aren’t friends, but I’m positive you have her number.”

Veronica nodded. “Yeah, but that’s necessary for multiple reasons. Besides, we actively shit talk one another. I reckon you don’t. I’m not saying you three are tightly knit. Just that you’re close enough.”

Eliza folded her arms and huffed. “I suppose so. That’s...annoying.”

“Look on the bright side.” Veronica grabbed Eliza’s scroll to put her number in. “Now you aren’t alone. We can complain about their antics together.”

The grin Veronica gave Eliza made her Eliza sheepish. The abrasive girl took her scroll back. “That...sounds nice.” She laughed under her breath.

Veronica couldn’t stop examining Eliza. This girl was all over the place! It was a little funny, awkward, and yet flattering. “Is this how the twins feel meeting fans?” The young lady could get used to this.

“Your last name is Marigold right? I’m so used to such a fierce expression that seeing you like this feels a bit unusual.”

“Used to? I take it you’ve spoken to my aunt then?” Eliza lit up.

“Not really. She’s been at events my mom dragged me to before. Didn’t speak with her directly but she looked pretty interesting. Her and my mom worked together before. You both and your father have some strong genes. I bet the mom must be jealous.”

“I...doubt it.” Eliza said, her tone drifting. The smile on her face faded back to neutrality. A silent breath escaped her lips while her eyes gazed into distance. Her change in attitude didn’t go unnoticed. Veronica’s ears fell watching her.

“Shit, did I...bring up something touchy?”

“It’s okay, honestly. I just wouldn’t know how my mom feels since...I’ve never had one.”

“Oh. I had no idea. Do you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Not really. It’s really not that big of a deal. You just caught me off guard since I’m used to people knowing that part of my life.” Eliza raised both her hands and gave her face a light slap to get out of her funk. Moping about nothing is pointless. Right now she was talking to Veronica, a person she admires! This was supposed to be exciting! “Phew! That’s better. Let’s change the subject. I don’t know much when it comes to fashion, but I have read about some of your involvement in contests.”

For a moment it felt like Veronica’s body had been hit by a truck. The muscles in her body constricted at once and her stomach felt queasy. “Have you now?”

“Just a little bit. It came up from time to time when I learned about your work with your mother. I gotta say your outfits definitely have your personality. More so than some of your contestants.”

“Heh, that’s not what judges think.” Vee uttered. “Not a first place prize to my name.”

“That may be true but that doesn’t make your designs less interesting in my opinion, but I know how you feel. It stings entering contests and sometimes not even making it to the end. Still, I really thought one dress in particular had it in the bag but…” Eliza silenced herself suddenly. She had forgotten the topic of this particular contest may not be light at all. “You...got disqualified?” She finished, cringing at her own stupidity.

“Yep. I got disqualified. No medal at all for that one.”

The air felt dead. Eliza clicked her tongue. “I had forgotten that part. The article never said why though, so it stuck out to me. If..if you don’t mind-”

“I actually do, a lot.” Veronica’s sharp response made Eliza jump a little. A few people passing by took notice of the aggressive tone, making Veronica mentally kick herself. “Shit, that wasn’t supposed to be so...I’m touchy about that day.”

Eliza waved off the comment like she was the one in the wrong. “It’s fine! I should’ve known better.”

“I guess we’re both even now huh?”

“Even!? I wasn’t trying to get back at-”

“Haha, relax before your heart explodes. It was just a tease.”

Eliza’s for got red. “Oh...of course.”

“You weren’t kidding about not having friends. I thought I was bad at small talk.”

Eliza held her head down. “I’m like a dumpster fire…”

“Ha, I can see that. I guess I’m fortunate to do speeches often. Easily the savior of my social skills. My parents are great but I wouldn’t say they aren’t the most elegant people in conversations. At least not ones that aren’t in front of a camera where they have to be. In a regular conversation they are as uncoordinated as they come.”

“I can see that. Yang’s sister does live here after all. She definitely has her own way of holding a conversation.”

“Pfft, that’s one way to put it. Just shake it off. We’re all kinda tone dead I guess.” Veronica laughed. This was fun. This was actually fun. Talking casually, who would’ve thought? She grabbed her water bottle to drink.

Eliza was also having a pleasant time. She was running low on conversation starters though. There had to be something that shouldn’t go horribly wrong. That’s when it came to her…

“So your head over heels for Nick right?”

Water sprayed out of Veronica’s mouth. How did each question keep getting her!? It shouldn’t even have been that bad yet here she was, choking over the most basic thing that everyone knew! Normally she hated being touched but feeling Eliza pat her back was gladly welcomed.

If Eliza didn’t feel bad before, then she definitely did now. “I am so sorry!” her voice was so spastic it would make Summer look calm. “I told you I’m terrible at this!”

“No, agh, no… this one is me!” Veronica coughed. “Damn, that really hurt my chest. It’s like the entire gulp went down the wrong pipe!” A few more coughs and another sip of water cured the promise. Veronica rubbed her chest and tearfully looked at Eliza. “Yeah I’m into him. Why do you ask?” Her desire to act like she didn’t nearly die was strong. “Wait, don’t tell me you like him too!?”

Water wasn't the only thing that was gonna be on the floor with questions like that. Eliza made a face that looked like she may have gagged out of spite. “Ugh, not a chance.” She folded both her arms aggressively.

“Cool, that would’ve been weird.” Veronica thought. Then Eliza began rubbing her chin. That was never a good sign.

“Weeeeeell…” Eliza said.

Veronica deflated like a balloon. “Here we go…”

“Huh? No! It’s not what you think. I don’t like him like that, or much at all really. However, I can’t deny he is...charming to put mildly. I can recognize that. As a whole, I don’t like Nick that much. There’s too much that grinds my gears. That said, there is a side to him I deeply appreciate. Don’t tell him that or I’ll deny it.”

Her tidbit made Vee’s cat ears wiggle. “You gonna leave me hanging like that? Elaborate a little.”

“Really? I didn’t want to diss him in front of you or anything.”

“Tah! Nick doesn’t need anyone coming to his defense and I’m not gonna bite your head off over an opinion, most likely.” She had to add that last part. Veronica doubted Eliza was going to say something that would be unapologetically mean but you can never know what a person could say. “Speak your mind.”

Eliza looked towards the stage to watch the council president in question adjust some light equipment to put on his sister. “That boy is...selfish in the wrong way.”

That sure was an answer. Veronica tilted her head. “I...don’t follow.”

“Nicholas Schnee is a people pleaser, yet he goes out of his way to do things on his own and inefficiently. He has the qualities of a great leader but doesn’t truly lead anyone. Instead he bends over backwards. This entire concert was his idea yet he chose not to fill anybody in on this for weeks; leaving us in the dark when we could’ve been further along. All that money, trust, and influence, yet I fail to see him use it with the care I know he knows how to do. It’s so annoying! Agh, I wish I had a fraction of what his name has.”

“Sounds like to me you’re a little envious?”

“A bit, but that doesn’t change my view of him. You know him. Am I wrong?”

“I’m the last person to judge right or wrong here, but I see what you mean. Nick definitely has his faults, no argument there. I told him the other day he was a bit pushy at times and overbearing. Still, I wouldn’t say those qualities are bad. Nick is… a man on a mission.”

The administration in Veronica’s eyes was clearer than air to Eliza. “Opinions aside, his heart is good. The love he has for family and friends is undeniably. I respect that.”

“Is that the part you deeply appreciate?”

Eliza shook her head. “No, that quality is a given. The side I like is one few people see. I witnessed it for the first time at a red carpet event several years ago. It was our first time actually speaking. I stubbornly declared I’d beat him in a tournament and show everyone how beneath me he was.”

“Wow, your social skills really are rough.”

“Cut me some slack. I was fourteen and cocky. Anyways, I expected him to laugh it off and give that fake smile he gives to the public. Instead, he gave this smug smirk at me and said ‘I can’t wait.’ It was actually chilling. I could tell from his eyes that he was threatening, no, intimidating me. He had no problem letting me know he wanted to take me down, and that’s exactly what he did on tournament day. However, right before our match, Nick took me to the side to chat. It was my first tournament. The anxiety I had was a plan on my face. Instead of using that weakness, he gave me tips to calm down. Having him focus solely on me in that ring was thrilling, different from his usual self. There’s an honesty about it I like. No way somebody can be nice all the time.”

It was for that very reason Eliza knew she had to hear Nick’s offer out. Whenever that look comes out, it spells trouble for who caused it. To think the plan involved beating Valerie? What could he possibly be up to?

Veronica rubbed her chin, intrigued. “So that’s your reasoning. Hmm.” She snapped her fingers and smirked. “Masochistic.”

Eliza bugged out. Her jaw dropped and she was seconds away from protest, until the snickering from Veronica let her know she was teasing again. A smile slowly formed and Eliza playfully elbowed Vee. “Shut up.” She laughed. “Talk about a mood killer.”

Veronica stuck her tongue out before breaking out into laughter when Eliza. Hard to believe the key to being social was being kinda bad at it? It was nice making a friend. Veronica didn’t say it but they were glad to be here.

Across the room, the gym door opened. “Well look who’s having fun!?” A voice bellowe, the condescending echo gaining everyone’s attention. To many’s displeasure, it was Darren sauntering in with his silent partner Max behind him. “Sounds like a real party here. Care if I join? Maybe shake things up a little?”

The upperclassman paced like he owned the place, watching. “Hard at work for my big day?” His eyes go to the stage. “Well if it isn’t the Jester of the School!”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Very original. I’d love to hear more of this comedy act but unfortunately the gym is closed for regular students. Please take your friend and your clown makeup somewhere else.”

“Pfft, you diss like a child.”

“Said the man who called me a jester.” Be it a deity or the universe itself, people should count themselves lucky Nick had high tolerance for stupidity. Darren’s presence was grinding it down however. Punches and nearly getting a friend hit by an asshole’s car did that to an individual.

Summer could see the sparks fly between the two. Grabbing the microphone from Nick with no hesitation, Summer took the lead. Unfortunately for Darren she didn’t have her brother’s tolerance, and she was on her favorite spot in the whole world. “You’re interrupting our practice and wasting my time. Beat it.”

The gym went silent. Did everyone hear that right? Summer Schnee...was rude!? Darren blinked twice, stunned. “Excuse me but, nobody was talking to you.”

“And nobody invited you. Scram.” She shooed him away as if he was a bug.

“Now is that anyone to talk to a superior? I don’t care how famous you are or what your last name is, you little princess. You just keep singing like a little songbird; it’ll be the only good press you get that day before losing to yours truly!”

Summer out of this expression of confusion. “And your name is…? Sorry, I just have a really hard time with faces when they don’t even rank in the top five.” Multiple ‘oooos’ and chatter started going. “Is Dean? Dunce? …..Dumb and Dumber?”

Max let out a simple “Hmph” while Darren got pissed. “So you got jokes huh?” He said through his teeth. It only took one step closer before Nick immediately stepped in front of his sister. Before either could give the audience a glimpse of tournament match l, Eliza flicked the lights off and on to gain everyone’s attention.

“HEY! Knock it off, all of you.” She demanded. Darren’s gaze came her way and towards Veronica by extension. Eliza took a step between the two, stopping a problem before it could start. “Na uh, eyes on me. One word to her and I might let Principal Coal know. May I remind you that after recent behavior it would behoove you to act like a respectable upperclassman, or else-”

“Hey hey hey there, little one, I just came in here to mingle a little; shoot the breeze and all. I’m not the one who got all bent out of shape and started insulting people. Ain’t that right Max?”

Unbothered, Max put his hands behind his head. “That is what happened; dumb jokes or not.”

“Yeah that’s- hey! You aren’t talking about my jokes are you!?”

Eliza took a deep breath. “Consider the breeze shot to hell. Now if you would kindly be on your way so-”

“Uuuugh, you’re so boring, acting like a lifeless doll and shit. Even her frail and tone deaf highness behind me showed some backbone for once.”

“Tone deaf!?” Summer yelled. She would’ve thrown her microphone if Nick didn’t take it from her. “Oh I really hope your bite is at least half as good as your bite. This ‘Princess’ thinks you deserve a public beat down for the world to see, personally delivered!”

“See you at the tournament!” Nick added.

Darren pointed behind himself. “See? At least they’re interesting.”

“If getting egged on by your limp insults is what you want then why should I even bother?” Eliza stepped to the side. “Best be on your way. You can earn my wrath whenever you feel man enough to enter a solo tournament instead of hiding behind your partner.”

“Oh yeah?” Darren glared. “Tough talk from a-” The back of his shirt was pulled by Max.

“Time to go. You’ve had your fun, and I’m getting a headache. No use talking. Let the tournament do all the bragging.” Max began dragging Darren to the exit until Darren brushed him off to walk himself. He gave Eliza one last pissed off look before giving a smug face as he walked away. “Tsk, drug baby.” He mumbles.

Loud footsteps and the sound of metal clanged behind him. Darren quickly turned around, ready for a fight. “Well I guess you can get ma-”He didn’t move. What he thought was Eliza losing her cool was actually her defending him with her baton from a very pissed heir with an Arma Gigas.

“He’s quicker than he looks.” Max grabbed Darren again and all but tossed him out the gym before any actions became an incident.

“Care to tell me why you wanna fight my battles?” Eliza complained.

“I’m not fighting your battles. My patience just got a little restless.” Nick unsummoned his blade and walked away. Thoughts of last night suddenly came to mind, making him sigh. “Sorry. Overstepped a bit. I’m gonna cool off.” He groaned.

Eliza rubbed the back of her head. That was...off. Nick must’ve been more ticked off by Darren than she was aware of. “Just don’t get so jumpy. The last thing I need is you not being able to kick his ass because you got suspended.”

“Haha yes ma’am.”

Eliza clapped her hands loudly. “Okay everyone! Get back to business!” She shouted, returning everything to normal. Thank the gods for at least giving Eliza cooperative staff members. Her body slumped over. Why can’t any event be peaceful! Damn that Darren! Now she wished he was in the solo bracket. Her head lifted to look at Veronica. “I take it if Nick heard that then so did you?”

“Little bit. I can pretend I didn’t. Makes no difference to me.”

“Don’t sweat it. Who likes beading around the bush anyways? You asked about my mom earlier. Now you basically know. To make a long story short, my dad in his younger years spent his money in...less than responsible ways. Who needs love when there’s plenty of clubs and corners with people looking to make a quick buck? My mother just so happened to get a little more than just lien.”

Veronica’s face scrunched up. “Yikes. That’s a lot to unpack.”

“Not really. Never had a mom so it’s not like I’m yearning for a connection when there never was one to start with. One day my dad noticed her pregnant and like you said before, I have strong features. A woman parading around with no home, every drug under the sun, and a potential baby that looked like the CEO of a company one kingdom above is a recipe for ruin. Many board members thought it best for my father to deny anything and everything. Apparently a few of them along with some kind individuals thought it best to move my mother in with him. This way the baby, me, would at the very least be healthy.”

“What about your mother?”

“Ultimatum. Fall in line with this new society and learn to act like a high class citizen, or take a generous amount of money to keep quiet. I don’t look like her so spinning a story wouldn’t do her well, and high class society didn’t mean she could get high any hour of the day. Took the money and never looked back. Tabs were kept on her for a while but she eventually became white noise among the gutter trash of Mantle. A druggie with tons of cash is never good. Most likely ended up in a gutter from overdose or somebody who caught wind of her spending habits.”

“Eliza that’s...I’m sorry that happened.”

“Eh, I’m not losing sleep over it. Not like I got a bad deal either. Contrary to what people might say about my name, my father is a decent man and cares for me as well. He’s by no means perfect but who is? Aunt May told me once that if nothing else, my dad doesn’t make problems bigger than what they have to be. I didn’t ask to be born, so resenting me would be shallow. We get along and that’s all that matters family wise. Though...it’s not like he got a raw deal out of it.” Eliza conjured a small flame in her hand. “He took the high road and learned he got Remnant’s first magical daughter in ages. Talk about good karma.”

“Way to look at the positives.” Veronica said.

Eliza put out the flame. “It’s just the facts. Unfortunately rumors floated and not all people were happy with the decision, so little tidbits here and there got learned. As you can see with Darren’s mouth almost getting him into trouble. The only thing bigger than his mouth is his ego.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with his type.” Veronica said with annoyance. She was too familiar with it.

“Anywho, I should get back to practice. Thanks for chit chatting. And people say it’s bad to meet your heroes and stuff. I guess they’re meeting the wrong ones.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I mean I’m pretty rad but you know...modesty and all that. I’m no Blake Belladonna or Yang Xiao Long. Just little ol’ me.” Veronica chuckled. “See ya around?”

“Sooner than you might think.” Eliza twirled her baton and went on her way.

Veronica watched the girl leave. No wonder Nick chose Eliza to be the one to keep an eye on her. She was tough as nails; with or without the uniform! A shame Darren outed her like that. Veronica felt a little dirty learning something Eliza didn’t want to tell her. Veronica was surprised that Eliza didn’t ask for her to return the favor. Then again, it would’ve been pointless. Veronica knew herself. She wouldn’t say a word regardless of fairness. She might have even lied. The girl let out a sigh, taking a moment to look down at herself before heading back to practice. Some things are just better left unsaid.

#rwby #rwby twin snowflakes #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #eliza marigold #veronica belladonna #darren diabhalta #max winchester

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palmett-hoes · 3 years

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i so agree on the thea/kevin thing. i do think they end up together though - not because i particularly think they're good for each other but because sometimes people end up in relationships they settle for and maybe they change and maybe they don't but sometimes life is just like that. thats kind of why i particularly like how nora makes it clear that allison doesn't end up with a man because she tends to seek out the anger issues + doesn't want to help themselves type of man. it b liek dat smt

hmm okay. i think first i want to address what i mean when i answer asks, especially one like the kevin and thea ask you're mentioning. just because i'm writing it doesn't necessarily mean i'm committing to the idea 100% and it doesn't mean it's what i believe 100% will happen. it's a possibility and more than that it's an idea i'm exploring for the moment

that was an analysis of how i view their dynamic, with some predictions based on that specific interpretation, and the end part was a best-case scenario if everything worked out perfectly. but you're right, a best-case scenario doesn't always happen. people's lives don't always play out perfectly and they don't always find the perfect right person that they're with forever. and sometimes they settle for something that's stable or familiar and that's not even necessarily a bad thing

what's really great about transformative work like fandom is that i don't have to stick to just one idea. i can entertain the idea of a perfect world for kevin and thea where they break up but stay friends and help each other overcome the trauma and conditioning of the nest, and at the same time i can also entertain the world where they fall a little flat of that, and still end up together and sometimes kevin sits up at night and looks at his wife and asks himself "do i love her? am i happy?" and knows that the answer isn't a resounding yes, but that she's still his partner and they have a daughter together who he wouldn't trade for anything. analytically, you can make an argument for either of those pathways, or even one where kevin and thea get marriage counseling and end up the happiest most in-love couple in the world, or a million others

you can create a post-canon where anything happens. one where kevin meets the love of his life, one where kevin never meets anyone, one where kevin suffers a career ending injury at 26 that this time he truly never recovers from. as a creator i can explore each and every one of these options for him and think of them all as equally real and equally possible, even if i'm thinking about two completely different ones at the exact same time

it's a story. it all comes down to what i'm feeling at that moment, what I'm looking to explore. do i need a pick-me-up? do i want catharsis? am i angry? sad? cruel? do i want to deconstruct the notion of the cold war nuclear family? do i just want a good time? you get out what you bring in

whatever i end up typing is a reflection of what i'm thinking and feeling in that moment. i may want to look at it completely differently in another moment

but i do agree that i like to keep a little reality regardless, and i also like that nora did too. she didn't give everyone a perfect happy ending with a marriage and kids and i think that's right for the statement she was making with the series

and sometimes i like that, sometimes i want a world that's a little softer around the edges for a bit. that's for me to decide

but if you want my strictest, most true-to-life, mirror of reality take on what happens in post-canon, okay

---

i still don't think that kevin and thea end up together, because there's at least two more years on kevin's college contract and no guarantee he'll go onto thea's pro team from there, and i don't think either of them will really be trying to stay in touch. long-distance is hard. long-distance when you're not even trying is impossible. i don't even think they explicitly break up it's just they realize they haven't spoken in months and don't even have each others' current addresses so they avoid eye contact if they ever happen to be in the same room and eventually one of them has a 30-second news spot about dating someone new and that puts the final shred of uncertainty between them to rest

kevin never really finds someone. he's too committed to exy, as a pro-player and as whatever he does after, and he's never going to tell anyone that his life is technically owned by the mafia. maybe he has a convenient marriage or two with some other celebrity that ends in divorce. he's not really particularly concerned with it and when he's old he doesn't regret it. maybe he never wanted a partner in the first place

it's aaron and katelyn that i think are the most likely to end up the way you described kevin and thea. they get married and they stay married but really they're married to their jobs as doctors. and as the years go on they sometimes wonder why they're still together but it's too much of a pain to sort through their shared finances and they're not unhappy, so they stay together. maybe one or both has an affair that they hide, but even if the other knew it probably wouldn't change anything. their house is really expensive and in a really nice location, it's not worth the divorce

dan and matt also probably get married, but i don't think it stays. matt seems like the type to want kids, and dan seems like the type to hate the idea. irrevocable difference. eventually they have to split. matt definitely remarries and has his kids. dan may remarry, she may not, her job is her primary concern. they stay amicable, but it's tense for a few years. they really rocks the foxes, because it's the only internal breakup between two of them

andrew and neil are both the most stable and the most happy of the foxes, because they know how to communicate and they know how to fight for each other. but also because neither of them has any grand notions of romance or true love. they didn't build their relationship on passion, they built it on understanding and cooperation. to them, a person to wake up to in the morning or sit by a window with IS a miracle. it shocks a lot of the foxes who all either subconsciously or not thought that their own relationships were better or healthier or more destined to last than andrew and neil's. over the years all the other foxes have come to them at least once, in private, looking for advice. they'd be lying if the irony of so many years of being given unasked for relationship advice coming full circle didn't make them just a but smug

nicky and erik are the other long-term success of the foxes. if nicky can stay with the twins at their worst he can shelter through normal relationship drama. still the hardest part for him is when the relationship ultimately becomes familiar, as they all do. he's always buying relationship books and planning dates and setting up relationship retreats because he's honestly so afraid of being alone if he likes the flame die. sometimes it's honestly the biggest strain on his relationship, all the frantic effort he puts in, but they get through it

renee never marries or really has any significant relationships. she says she's married to jesus and her job but she's still always a little bit haunted by her past in a way that holds her back from truly opening up to a partner. she adopts several kids though, somewhat later in life, because she believes that she can pass on the chances that stephanie gave her, and that's more important than romance

allison has a string of wild marriages and even wilder divorces that are usually the highlight of fox get-togethers. she has a child by accident and she isn't a wonderful mother. dan and renee are both very involved with her kid, for many years more than she is. when the kid is nearly an adult allison finally pulls her head out of her ass to see that she missed so much of the only relationship she can't annul. at that point she quits relationships and focuses on fixing things. it's a slow, painful process, but they manage to be close later in life

---

so, do i necessarily WANT all of these things to happen? no, many of them are quite sad. but all of them are good stories, and all of them are realistic in the sense that they are reflective of what happens in real people's lives

this is one version of how i think post-canon plays out. of course, i may change my mind later, or fiddle with the details, or want to play with an entirely different idea for one or more or all of the characters

#txt #kevin day #thea muldani #dan wilds #matt boyd #aaron minyard #katelyn #andrew minyard #neil josten #nicky hemmick #erik klose #renee walker #allison reynolds #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous

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fytheuntamed · 4 years

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I used to see WWX as sunshine incarnated and how it hurt me when I realized that it's mostly just fake and he's really not. I thought he was such a genuine person and when I realized that he hides so much of himself that he's not very genuine at all my heart broke a little and I needed to share my feelings. I still love him though, but it was a huge shock to me that everything I initially fell in love with was actually wrong. I hope this little ramble wasn't a bother.

Hello, anon! First off, you’re not bothering me at all; even if I can’t reply to all of them, I read and appreciate every ask I get. I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling a bit disillusioned with WWX; I know some would say he’s just a fictional character, but I think all of us here can attest to the power fictional characters have in impacting the lives of real people. Your ask made me think a lot about who WWX is, so I hope you don’t mind me sharing my own thoughts on the matter! Just a few disclaimers before I get into it: all analysis is based off of drama!WWX, as that is the adaption I know best, so keep this in mind as you read because I know his characterization varies a bit from adaption to adaption. WWX also happens to be my favorite character from the show, so this could will get long :’) I’m also going to continue on with the assumption that you’ve seen the show in its entirety!

I think one of the most important things to understand about people, fictional or real, is that we, like ogres, have layers. This is just what happens when you exist in a world where different settings with different people bring out different sides of us as dictated by societal norms. Does this make someone fake? I would say no, mainly because I think there’s a difference between acting “fake” and being fake. Anytime I speak on the phone with a stranger I automatically assume my “telephone voice,” which sounds quite different from my talking-with-friends-and-family-voice. I don’t leave such phone calls thinking to myself, “wow, I’m such a fake,” because I know that when speaking with strangers, being more polite than I would be around close friends and family is respectful. I think what it comes down to for me is, regardless of how I am presenting myself, am I staying true to my beliefs and values? This is why I think WWX is in fact very genuine, and I would also argue that it is his genuine nature (once revealed) that attracts LWJ to WWX.

Returning to the idea of people having layers, we must recognize that people are not static; we are constantly reacting to our settings and thus our moods fluctuate accordingly. WWX is sunshine incarnate, but he is also someone who has suffered a great deal over the course of his life. To expect him to smile no matter what is a cruel burden to impose on him, and I believe it is a burden he feels in canon. Because both Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu impress upon WWX that he must keep Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng safe, that they are the priority, WWX feels compelled to smile and put on a strong facade so that he doesn’t crumble and fall apart, thus “failing” his adoptive parents and siblings. So while these smiles may simply be masks to hide his pain, thus not “real” smiles, they do not make WWX himself fake, but rather (imo) reinforce his genuine nature because his motives are genuine, even if his smiles may not always be.

There are also times when he smiles and acts extremely cocky in front of others, only for this facade to immediately fall away the moment he is alone/out of the public eye. One of my favorite examples of this is in episode 26 when he questions Jin Zixun about the whereabouts of Wen Ning. The entire time he is there, he exudes a cocky disregard for formality and the established hierarchy, even going so far as to say, “If I, Wei Wuxian, want to kill someone, who can stop me? Who would dare to stop me?!” Once he has the information he needs and turns to leave, however, we immediately see the cockiness fall from his face to be replaced by one of...remorse? I’ll let you guys decide for yourselves.

[gif credit]

I think it is worth noting that his facade fades once he looks at LWJ, because LWJ is one of the few people at this point in time who WWX respects, and whose opinion of WWX still holds value to WWX. And so again we see that WWX’s outward behavior does not seem to align with his inner feelings. Look at the situation that WWX is in, though. He is just one man, albeit a powerful one, going against the biggest, most powerful clans. If he shows an ounce of weakness, they’ll eat him alive. And so in order to stay true to his beliefs, WWX puts on a show. In episode 25 we also see WWX put on a show of shooting many arrows simultaneously while blindfolded. @cal3ris made an excellent post on here stating that WWX was not just doing this to show off, but that he was ensuring the temporary safety of the Wen prisoners by pulling off such a feat so as to ensure no other cultivator would attempt the challenge after him. In situations such as this one, it works in WWX’s favor that the vast majority of the cultivation world believes him to be nothing but a showoff with a big mouth. And of course, there is a part of WWX that does enjoy being in the spotlight! Especially if someone he wants to impress is watching~

At the beginning of the Gusu days flashback (ep 3), we see WWX before everything goes to hell. He’s constantly smiling, goofing around, and is a genuine gremlin of a lad. This is real! He’s a teenager in the flush of his youth, he’s with his beloved siblings, he’s smart and talented, the list goes on and on. For people who don’t know WWX, he comes off as a shallow person with no real depth who thinks of nothing but goofing around all day. For those who know WWX intimately, like Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng (though he’s less vocal about it), they know this is not the case. The point is, WWX doesn’t care what people think about him. He doesn’t care because he knows who he is and what he stands for. This is a huge part of who WWX is as a person: “I don’t care if they slander me, as long as I have a clear conscience.” It is also one of the defining things that connect Wangxian to one another, which brings me to the point of LWJ being someone whom WWX hates to deceive, because he greatly values LWJ’s good opinion of him. We see how much it pains WWX to put distance between himself and LWJ, but we also see that WWX is willing to do so if he believes it is for the best. In episode 20, after being reunited with Jiang Cheng and LWJ, we see WWX purposefully push LWJ away with cold precision. Once more he plays his role with practiced ease, but we see his mask fall as he watches LWJ walk away.

WWX goes from this:

[gif credit]

to this as soon as LWJ isn’t looking at him:

[gif credit]

Having just returned from the Burial Mounds, WWX is very unstable, both physically and mentally. For the past months that he’s spent in the Burial Mounds, survival has been his priority. We see this instability and the signs of PTSD manifest quite a bit throughout the Sunshot episodes. In episode 20 Jiang Cheng hugs WWX, who honestly seems at a loss as to how to respond. In episode 20 we see LWJ step towards WWX, who immediately steps back. We also see WWX shrink away from Nie Huaisang’s touch. This is incredibly telling because WWX is someone who likes physical touch and proximity. He’s constantly putting his arms around Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang and constantly puts himself in LWJ’s personal space (much to LWJ’s initial chagrin). I believe WWX’s behavior post Burial Mounds comes from a desire to protect himself from those around him as well as those around him from himself. [apt gifset here] Nothing about this WWX is fake to me. He is acting differently here because he is different. Trauma does not define a person, but it does change a person. Post Burial Mounds WWX is a different person, but he has not lost what makes him him, which is his strong commitment to his beliefs and morals. For WWX during this time, I don’t believe he has the emotional strength to relive his trauma to those closest to him, so he settles for brushing them off with excuses and yes, fake smiles. This also ties into WWX’s habit of internalizing his own struggles so as not to burden those around him. Hopefully at this point a clear pattern has revealed itself: no matter how WWX presents himself on the outside, he never compromises his beliefs.

After being resurrected in Mo Xuanyu’s body, we see a WWX who is far more reminiscent of the carefree teenager back in Gusu. We see WWX slowly heal from the traumas of his past life and we see him begin to smile again, not because he needs to, but because he can’t help it. We might be tempted to look at this WWX and think, “ah, this is the real him,” but I think this does a disservice to the complexity of his character. The point is, it’s all WWX. The pranks, the smiles that crinkle the corners of his eyes, the creativity, the cockiness, the way his laughter bursts out of his body at times and at other times comes out like a sigh or an afterthought, the way he looks out for the juniors, and both his quiet and loud rage are all what makes him who he is. Certain aspects may be muted at times, but that’s to be expected. WWX is by no means perfect, but I would say he is painfully genuine. Just think, would LWJ feel so strongly about him if he weren’t?

As I feared, this got way too long and I probably rambled and repeated myself and got off track, but it’s fine…..

#the untamed #wwx #wei wuxian #wei ying #ask #anon #Anonymous #does this count as meta? pretty sure it's just me blabbing about how valid wwx is lmao #also DUDE why is tumblr putting the read more in the ask and not where i want it???

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

Part of Your World - Chapter 5

Ben!Prince Eric x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Prince Ben is trying to escape an arranged marriage. A young mermaid wants to escape the sea. Their paths cross and they may just be what the other is looking for.

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye, @radiob-l-a-hblah, @xviiarez, @butlegendsneverdie, @sunflower-ben, @godblessthisgardenpigeon, @okilover02, @xhaliemax if you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Y’all ready to see a classic fanfic trope? I know we love it ;) Also, I’m sorry this update took for fucking ever I’m just horrible at time management

Warning(s): None :)

Moodboard

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 here we go!!!

The next morning, you woke to find Ben missing from his hammock. You rolled out of yours, careful to land on your feet, and then headed upstairs to the deck. The morning was misty and chilly. You shivered and hunched your shoulders as you pressed on. You found him at the bow, looking out over water, clouded by fog. His expression was hard. Distressed. You placed a hand on his shoulder to alert him to your presence. You felt his muscles relax beneath your touch as he turned to face you.

“Good morning,” he said shortly.

Is it? You questioned.

He shook his head. “No...no, I suppose it isn’t.”

Talk to me, you insisted. Why are you so upset by this?

“Because,” he said. “A king is supposed to protect his people. To run his kingdom with knowledge and care. Until I joined Behati, I didn’t know anything that was going on. I feel...stupid. And completely unprepared for the next step in my life.”

Well, you know now, you said, trying to be encouraging. Maybe now when you do get home, you can explain what you’ve seen to your father and work together to fix it.

“That’s another thing that’s bothering me,” he said. “I don’t like to think my father knows about this and is ignoring it, but what if that is the case? What if he isn’t ignorant and he just doesn’t care? What do I do then?”

I can’t say for sure, since I don’t know him, you signed. But if he's anything like you, then there is no way this information wouldn’t affect him. Look at how your heart is hurting for your people. If your father has half your heart, it will shock him, and he will do everything he can to correct it.

A hint of a smile passed over his lips.

“I hope so,” he said. “But who knows when I’ll be able to get back to him?”

You aren’t Behati’s prisoner, you reminded him. I’m sure she’d take you back home if that’s what you wanted.

He shook his head again. “No, not really. She’s so close now to finding Sycoria. And I’m not ready for this adventure to end yet. Crazy as it’s been, and as much danger as I’ve encountered, I’ve never had so much fun.”

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“It seems completely mental, I know,” he chuckled. “But...before, I was looking at the life that was being handed to me. It was soft and comfortable in the palace. With a pretty wife who would take my word second only to God’s, and give me heirs. I’d do the same things every day, with the same people, without any idea of what goes on beyond the palace walls. It was frightening. Running away from that - especially the marriage - was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

You don’t want to get married? You wondered, a little dejected.

“I do someday,” he said. “But right now it just felt like a way to trap me and keep me right where I was. I barely even had a taste of freedom.”

Believe me, that I understand, you signed.

“Controlling parents?” he asked.

You nodded. A controlling father, mostly. My mother died when I was little.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened to her?”

Pirates, you told him, because you couldn’t say “humans.”

Ben heaved a sigh. The wind blew and you shuddered.

“Cold?” he asked.

You nodded, hugging yourself. He offered a gentle smile as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. You smiled gratefully at him. Then, he did something you did not expect. He pulled you into his arms and held you there. Your soft gasp was lost in his shirt as you rested your forehead against his chest. His embrace was warm and comfortable. You could hear his heart beating.

“The world is cruel,” he said heavily. “I’ve seen a great deal of wickedness and devastation since I left home, but I must say that you, Y/N, have been a bright light.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and you felt heat rise to your face.

“Despite all you’ve been through, you’ve remained kind and gentle,” he went on. “You’re genuinely the sweetest person I’ve ever met. I know it’s only been a couple days, but you’re a very precious friend to me.”

You looked up and beamed at him. He held your gaze and seemed to inch closer. Your stomach turned at the thought. Was he going to kiss you? Already? You were definitely fond of each other, but was it love? It certainly felt like the beginnings of it.

He pressed his lips to your forehead. You released a breath of relief. As badly as you wanted to kiss him - and you knew what was at risk if it didn’t happen - now was not the time. He was vulnerable, and he needed support. It would have felt like taking advantage of a weak moment.

“You’re freezing, you should get out of the wind,” he remarked as he pulled away.

I’m warmer with you, you returned. Besides, I miss the sea.

His brow furrowed. You had not meant to make that thought apparent, so your mind raced to come up with how to back track.

I just mean that I miss my old life, you signed, going vaguer.

“Tell me about it,” he said. “Goodness, you’ve listened to me ramble on about my nonsense long enough.”

You smiled. What do you want to know?

“Let’s start with where you’re from,” he said.

It’s a whole other world, you signed. Beautiful in some ways and completely frustrating in others. I had interests my father didn’t approve of, and eventually I was punished for doing something I considered to be the right thing. I knew I had to get away.

“That’s the worst, isn’t it?” he said. “Feeling like your parents are just trying to control you.”

Especially when they say it’s just because they know what’s best, you replied. How can they know what’s best if they don’t listen?

“Honestly!” he agreed. “All we want is the choice to make our life for ourselves.”

Absolutely, you signed. It’s about freedom.

“Thanks for this, Y/N,” he said. “For listening and sharing. It’s been a real treat.”

You smiled again. Whenever you were around Ben, no matter how serious the discussion got, you always ended up smiling. You hoped that was how it would always be.

The sun began to rise over the water and the air warmed up. You returned Ben’s coat to him just as Behati was emerging from her quarters to address the crew.

“Ladies and Benjamin!” she began excitedly. “We now have the way to find Sycoria!”

Everyone cheered, including Ben. You clapped enthusiastically. Maybe if Behati was successful, you’d be free too.

“I’ve waited years for this moment,” she continued. “I’ve been a prisoner on my own ship all these years, but no more. But I wouldn’t be the captain I am without each of you. I collected my crew carefully, choosing those who I knew could work with me, and bring a fresh perspective. You have all proven more than worthy. Before we take on this final stretch of our journey, I’m letting you all celebrate. Our next stop is Dram, so you can all enjoy the Mermaid Festival, and then, we go after Sycoria with everything we’ve got!”

The crew cheered again. You shot Ben a questioning look. You had never been to a human festival before, and to hear they had one dedicated to mermaids was both scary and intriguing.

“The mermaid festival celebrates Saint Asenora,” Ben explained. When your face lit up with recognition, he laughed. “My mother is named for the saint, but is not the saint herself. They both come from Dram, and my mother got her name because she was the first girl born to the Duke’s family there since the time of the saint.”

That’s incredible!

“We’ll dock in Dram tonight,” Behati said. “So you’ll have the whole day to celebrate tomorrow.”

You counted it up in your head. That would mean after the festival, you would only have another day with Ben.

Why is the saint celebrated at the Mermaid Festival? You asked.

“Because the legend goes that Asenora was a mermaid, and she fell in love with a human man,” he said. “She went to a witch to make her human, and the witch did it, but at great cost to Asenora. Her new legs were painful, and if the man did not love her in return, she would become sea foam.”

You swallowed. That hit a little too close to home.

What happened with the man? You asked.

“She found him, but he was already married,” Ben went on. “His wife was not as beautiful as Asenora, but she saw the smile on his face, and knew he was happy. Unwilling to disrupt his peaceful life, she sacrificed herself to the witch’s fate.”

That’s a horrible story, you signed with a pout.

“It doesn’t end there,” he said. “God had seen what Asenora did, and that her love was pure. He saved her spirit, and named her saint of the sea. Sailors across the kingdom pray to her for safe passage. Every year, they celebrate her at the Mermaid Festival.”

Well, that’s not so bad, you signed. But it’s still sad she never found love.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But lots of good came of it.”

You shrugged. Makes sense.

You and Ben spent the day together, working, talking, and laughing. Ben found himself impossibly more attracted to you as time went on. All he wanted was to be by your side. As he watched you help Ari with a rope, the way your face scrunched up in your way which was so cute. Your bright smile and sparkling eyes. The goodness and openness of your heart.

He felt a hand on his shoulder which drew him out of his stupor.

“Y/N,” Behati said. “How do you feel about her?”

“She’s great,” he answered bashfully. “Really helpful and sweet and patient and -”

“Pretty?” she finished.

His cheeks got pinker.

“She’s beautiful,” he said.

“There seems to be a real connection there,” she observed. “She likes you too.”

“Captain, what are you getting at?” he asked pointedly.

“I’m saying that what I see is the beginning of what we call love,” she said. “And I think you should pay attention to that.”

He blinked, astounded. He had never thought about it like that. But his attraction and appreciation of you definitely stood out to him. He had never felt that way about a woman before. But love?

“I dunno if we’re there yet,” he said with a shrug. “But I...I really like her.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she replied. “Show her a good time tomorrow.”

“I will,” he said. “I’m actually excited for it.”

Behati smiled, nodded, and then left him to his work again. She walked over to you.

You beamed at the captain as she approached, but it faltered at the look on her face. She looked serious.

“Y/N, come with me to my quarters, we need to talk,” she said.

What’s this about? You wondered.

“Just come with me,” she insisted.

You put down your things and followed her. You shot Ben a questioning look as you passed him, but he only shrugged. He watched you disappear into Behati’s room.

“Hey, Ben,” Ari said. “Don’t you think that a sweet, charming girl that’s right in front of you might be better than some mystery woman you aren’t even sure exists?”

He sighed. “I suppose…”

Inside, Behati sat on her desk, facing you. You stood before her, a questioning expression on your features.

“We’ve never addressed this, but I did see you that day you rescued Ben,” she began. “And you didn’t have legs. You were a mermaid.”

You looked at the floor and nodded.

“And I know Sycoria gave you your legs,” she said.

You nodded again.

“What was the price?” she asked. “And what are the conditions of your agreement?”

You took a deep breath. Then, you explained everything. How you’d always been fascinated by humans, that night you listened on the side of the ship and that was how you were there to rescue Ben. You told her your father punished you for it, and then you went to Sycoria to become human. You even told her the limits of your spell. That after the festival you would only have another twenty-four hours to get Ben to kiss you.

“Well, you’re in luck, he likes you,” she said. “How do you feel about him?”

I’m starting to fall in love with him, you signed. He’s so brave and kind and caring. And we both value freedom and love. It feels like we’re meant to be.

“You very well may be,” she agreed. “The only thing is Ben is still caught up on the woman he thinks saved him. I think you should tell him the truth. During the festival.”

You nodded. I agree. I want to be totally honest with him so that he doesn’t feel tricked.

“I like that,” she said. “To get this going, I’ve got something for you.”

A present?

She smiled and then crossed the room to her wardrobe. You watched eagerly as she opened the door, reached in, and pulled out a gorgeous gown that was on a hanger. Your mouth dropped as you looked at it. It was stunning - gold thread with soft pink lace and delicate frills along the sleeves and neckline. You had never seen such a garment.

“Wear this,” she said with a smirk. “That should put some serious hearts in his eyes.”

But if it’s yours, how will it fit me?! You wondered.

“It was actually part of a plunder I took a few years back,” she said. “I think it looks about your size. Dresses never suited me anyway. But they do suit a princess.”

You grinned. Thank you so much.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Shall we try it on?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

Behati had everything that went with the dress - the undergarments, corset, and even gold slippers to match it. As she finished lacing you up, you finished letting your hair out of the braids. Then she walked you over to the mirror that was on the wall. You gasped.

“My, my, you’re stunning!” she cried. “Look at you, gorgeous!”

You blushed, flattered by her praise, especially since you found her so beautiful.

Thank you, you signed. I really feel like a princess now.

“You look like one,” she said. “You are one. Ben is a lucky, lucky prince.”

You blushed deeper.

“We’ll be docking soon,” she said. “Stay in here as long as you like. I’ll have Ari and Kay get you dressed tomorrow.”

You giggled together, and then she departed. You looked at yourself again, twirling gently back and forth. You pictured yourself on Ben’s arm, looking like you actually belonged there. The way this dress would shift and move, the way it would swirl as you danced. The festival became a whole lot more exciting.

When you docked at Dram, You had changed back into your crew clothes, but the dress was carefully packed and with Ari. Behati also handed Ari a pouch of gold to pay for rooms at the inn. She whispered some instructions into Ari’s ear that you guessed were about the dress. The captain shot you a knowing smile, and then you were all off into town.

Dram was much more peaceful than Henrietta. There was a heavier military presence and the people were clearly wealthier. Most of the women had jewels around their necks and fingers. Their dresses were made of luxury fabrics, and most of them were escorted by a man.

Not that there wasn’t poverty. There certainly was. The shopkeepers and merchants were dressed similarly to yourself and Behati’s crew. Although, the dress you knew was waiting for you would make you fit in right along with those fine ladies.

The inn was not too far from the dock, and Ari went to check you all in. The innkeeper gave Ari the keys, and she began assigning rooms. Your stomach turned when she said that you and Ben would be sharing.

“Strictly for space,” Ari said. “You see, everyone else is rooming with their partners.”

You nodded slowly. I suppose that’s alright. Ben?

“If you’re comfortable, Y/N, then so am I,” he said.

There was a reassurance in his voice that eased you.

“Y/N, come to my room tomorrow morning,” Ari said. “For your gift from Behati.”

She handed you the room key and winked. Ben looked between the two of you, confused.

“What?” he questioned. “Behati’s given you something?”

You nodded. It’s not important right now. Let’s just get to our room.

He agreed, and you walked upstairs together. You went to the room indicated on your key, and you turned the lock. You opened the door and walked in. The room was nice and cozy but to your horror, there was only one bed.

There must be a mistake, you signed. Ari would get us separate beds.

“Relax,” Ben replied, though he was also nervous. “I’ll go downstairs and see if there’s another. Wait right here.”

He left, and you stood in the doorway, anxiety coming off of you in waves. Being so close to Ben - sharing a bed - that would create a whole other level of intimacy between you. You didn’t have much time to fret before he returned.

“Sorry, no luck,” he said. “Between the Mermaid Festival guests and now us, all the other rooms are booked.”

You nodded and swallowed.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep on the floor,” he offered, scratching his neck.

No, you signed. We can share. That is, as long as you’re okay with it.

“Of course!” he said, and at the look of surprise at his enthusiasm, he collected himself. “Sorry. I just, uh...I dunno, I like being close to you, Y/N.”

You smiled. I like being close to you too.

It was getting late, so you both got ready for bed. Ben watched as you slowly shed a few layers of clothing. He found himself blushing at the sight of your bare shoulder, and the soft skin there. He resisted a brutal urge to walk up behind you and press his lips to it.

He shook his head and began to take off his own clothes. You peeked over your shoulder and tried to not drool as his shirt came off and you saw his body. He had tan lines from his work and time with Behati, but it did not take away the appeal of his strong build. You happily would have thrown yourself into those arms.

“Are you ready?” he asked, bringing you back out of your thoughts.

You nodded stiffly. He allowed you to get in the bed first, and you hesitantly pulled back the blankets and slid into the spot. As he followed suit, you became acutely aware of his body heat beside you. You looked resolutely away from him, so you wouldn’t make him uncomfortable, but you felt his eyes on you as he settled in.

He chuckled. “You can look at me, you know.”

You turned your head in his direction, but your eyes remained fixed on the sheets. His forefinger and thumb came to your chin, and he gently lifted your face to his.

“Look, I understand that this is a bit uncomfortable,” he said kindly. “But I think we should focus on the positives. At least now, we have time to talk without any interruptions or worrying about anyone overhearing us.”

Should we have worried about that before? You asked.

He shrugged. “I dunno. But I like that it’s just you and me now. So tell me something new about you.”

You smiled. You considered confessing to him now where you really came from and the deal with Sycoria, but it still felt too crazy. And you wanted to know how he felt about you before taking the risk. So you talked about other things to pass the time. You talked with him until your eyelids grew heavy. You settled yourself against him and rested your head on his shoulder. Sleep took you. Ben watched you ease into slumber and admired your peaceful expression for a while before it came for him as well. He slipped out of consciousness with his arms around you.

You woke the next morning warm and cozy in Ben’s embrace. It was so comfortable you almost didn’t want to get up and go anywhere. But you were excited about the festival. And you thought it might be the perfect place for you and Ben to have your first kiss. And you could finally tell him everything.

Ben’s eyes fluttered open and met yours gazing at him. He smiled lazily.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep.

Good morning, you signed back. I’ve got to get to Ari’s room, but I didn’t want to disturb you.

“I wish you could stay,” he said through a yawn. “You’re so cozy.”

You grinned. I’d be content to stay here with you for days, but we do have a festival to see.

“That’s true,” he conceded. “I’ll come get you in an hour, yeah?”

You nodded.

To your own dismay, you got out of bed, dressed quickly, and went down the hall to Ari’s room. Ben drifted back off for a bit, but found himself missing the feeling of you next to him.

When you got to Ari’s room, she, Kay, Sharna, and several other girls were in there waiting for you. Ari flashed you a knowing smile.

“How was your night?” she asked.

It was….nice, you signed with a sheepish grin. He just held me all night.

“Awww,” Sharna cooed. “What a sweetheart he is.”

“Well, let’s get you dolled up for your sweet man,” Ari said.

They all jumped in. While Ari was getting you dressed, the others were helping you with your hair. You really felt like a princess, but not the kind you were in the sea. The kind from storybooks. Only, you didn’t have servants. You had friends.

Before you knew it, there was a knock at the door. Ben had arrived. Ari went to answer it, and she allowed him in. When he saw you standing there, in that elegant dress, with your hair curled and styled, and just a hint of rouge on your cheeks and lips, his jaw dropped. The breath was stolen out of his body, and his face grew warm.

“Y/N, you - I - wow - you look….you look…” he sputtered.

“Beautiful?” Ari finished.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes still locked onto yours. “Stunning, actually.”

You flushed under his gaze and tried to relax. Somehow, you were more nervous around him now. It felt like he was properly courting you or something. The feeling only grew when he bent at the waist and bowed to you, extending his hand.

“Y/N, I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you to the festival today,” he said.

You took his hand, and he looked up. You beamed at him and nodded. He grinned back, losing the dignified air he’d created, and you were back to normal. Only, there was a real feeling of couplehood blossoming.

He began to lead you out the door. Ari wished you good luck and said they’d be around if you and Ben needed anything. You both waved to her quickly, and then you were off.

Ben took the lead, since he had been to the festival before. It was mostly local vendors selling products relating to the legend. People were everywhere, shopping and talking. Children darted back and forth, collecting candy and toys. Laughter and music floated through the air. Ben took you first to get a seashell crown to wear.

“That really suits you, Y/N,” he said, placing it carefully atop your head.

Thank you, you replied.

You continued walking. It shocked you to witness how fascinated humans were by mermaids. There was mermaid art, mermaid jewelry, mermaid themed food. None of it was accurate, but it was certainly amusing to you.

You stopped at another booth, where you purchased a pendant for Ben. It was silver, hung down to his chest, and had a perfectly round pearl at the end. It was delicate, but still looked handsome on him.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do all this,” he said, admiring it. “This is much too kind a gift.”

You have been most kind to me, you replied. I want to show you I’m grateful to know you.

He pulled you close and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you so much,” he said.

You beamed at each other.

Exploring the Mermaid Festival took most of the day, but it was a whole day you got to spend with Ben. You talked, laughed, shopped, and got to know each other. In the afternoon, you went to the town square to see the dancing.

A group of string players were creating a jaunty and upbeat tune. The dance was known to the citizens, as they were all in step with each other. You even saw Ari and Kay out there together. Ben looked over and saw your eager expression.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

You nodded so hard, he laughed.

Taking you hand, he led you out. You got a bit nervous since you had never danced before and you didn’t know the steps.

“Don’t worry,” Ben said, as if reading your mind. “Follow my lead, and keep the beat in your head.”

His reassuring smile made you forget all apprehension. You leapt into the crowd, one hand in Ben’s, the other on his shoulder, while his free hand took your waist. Nothing else mattered. You danced and danced, and whether or not the steps were right was of little consequence. You were in Ben’s arms, moving together, with laughter in your eyes and on your lips.

The song came to an abrupt, but jubilant halt, and you stopped, breathless and smiling. Ben was similarly delighted. Then you both burst into laughter.

“That was great, Y/N!” he praised. “For someone who once struggled to walk, you’re a helluva dancer!”

You smirked. Well, I think with dancing, it’s about having the right partner.

He blushed and smiled in that way that absolutely melted you. Then, the music began again, this time much slower. You watched all the other couples return to the floor.

“Do you know how to waltz?” Ben asked.

You shook your head. He quickly showed you a box step, and you told him you trusted him. So, he took you out again.

The waltz was smooth, with a romantic sway that was exactly what you had envisioned for the dress. You were much closer to Ben now - chest to chest. Both of you were rosy cheeked from the previous dance, but your breath was evening out. Your heart rate on the other hand was picking up rapidly.

“Y/N, I…” Ben began, but trailed off.

You poked him insistently in the shoulder. He met your eyes and you questioned him with a slight downturn at the corners of your mouth.

The truth was, as he looked at you now, the only thing on his mind was kissing you.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I like you,” he said. “I think...it’s becoming more than just a liking, if you know what I mean.”

You did, but you wanted to hear him say it. You furrowed your brow and looked confused.

“Y/N,” he said again, and as the music slowed to a stop, so did your feet. “I think I’m starting to…”

He was leaning in again, and this time there was no confusion about where he was headed. He was going to kiss you. Properly. And you were more than ready to accept him. To break this curse and regain your voice so that he could know truly everything about you. And you weren’t scared to tell him anymore. Because you knew that he loved you.

Your eyes began to close as you got closer to each other. You felt his breath hot on your face. His lips just barely began to touch yours. Just a little closer. A little closer and then…

“Time for the mermaid tears!” cried a young boy who came bounding between you, forcing you back a few feet.

You tried not to look annoyed because it wasn’t intentional, but the moment was gone. Ben cleared his throat and looked at you.

“Well, I suppose we can’t miss the mermaid tears,” he said.

What’s that about? You wondered.

“It’s when we all go to the beach and make a wish,” he explained. “Everyone takes a bit of sea glass, makes a wish, and throws it into the sea. The sea glass is meant to be Asenora’s tears she shed for her lost love. But we give them back to her - and you let go of whatever is weighing on you - then she’ll grant your wish. According to the legend.”

Does it have to be right now? You asked.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s always right at sundown.”

How quickly the day had flown! You weren’t ready for it to be over, but maybe, once you got back to the room, there would be another opportunity for him to kiss you.

With a sigh, you took his arm and headed for the shore.

All the jewelers were handing out the pieces of sea glass as each person approached. Yours was a deep blue, which reminded you of home. Ben’s was a soft green, and matched his eyes. You walked out to the sand, kicking off your shoes about halfway to the water. You let the ocean come and swallow your feet.

You decided you were letting go of your old life in the sea. Where you felt trapped by your father and had no control. Your wish was for Ben to try and kiss you again. You hurled the sea glass as far as you could. It disappeared inside a wave. Then you looked at Ben.

“Go ahead back to the inn,” he said, still holding his sea glass. “I need a moment.”

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, nodded, and began walking back. He watched you go, making sure you met up with Ari and Kay, before you were out of sight among the crowd. Then he looked back over the water.

His heart was torn. He was certain that he loved you, but he could not forget about the woman who saved his life. It clawed at him, made him feel guilty for falling so hard for you. But how could he help loving you? Even if there was someone out there he owed a debt to.

That was what he was letting go of. He was releasing himself from the burden of having to love someone for that reason. If he ever found that woman, he would see his debt repaid. But he was committing himself to you. His wish was only that you loved him in return. And that you would have a long and happy life together.

He realized that he was now alone on the beach. He reared back to throw the stone into the water, when a voice caught his attention. He turned around and saw a woman walking toward him. At first, he hoped it was you, but he knew it was not your silhouette.

“Benjamin,” the woman said.

Her voice was intoxicating. He noticed an odd, purple and gold glow coming from a shell around her neck. It hypnotized him so that he dropped his sea glass without even hearing it hit the sand.

Behati was whistling to herself as she walked near the stern of the ship. She had a great view of the beach from her spot in the harbor, and she had seen you and Ben making your wishes together. Now, as she was making a second round, a foggy glow caught her eye. She stopped and watched.

A woman she had never seen was talking to Ben. The woman was certainly beautiful from what Behati could tell. But when the glowing fog went straight into Ben’s eyes and his body went rigid, the captain knew something was horribly wrong. The woman began to lead Ben into the sea, walking right into the waves.

“BEN!” Behati screamed, but he paid her no mind. “BEN, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

He continued to ignore her. Then Behati watched with dread as the prince’s head vanished beneath the inky black surface of the water. A wicked cackle echoed through the air. A laugh Behati could never forget as long as she lived.

“Sycoria!”

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deadstrangeblog · 4 years

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The Sad Case of The Lipstick Killer

North Kenmore Avenue is a much sought-after residential area in the city of Chicago, with a children’s park surrounding the apartments and transport links within walking distance. It lies around the corner from a prestigious Catholic school and the uptown setting is popular with young families and elderly residents alike, it’s safe atmosphere and cheap living costs appealing to people from all walks of life. North Kenmore wasn’t always as safe though. In 1945, in Apartment 4108, a woman was brutally murdered there.

It was June 5th when 44-year-old Josephine Ross was found slain on her apartment floor. Police were greeted by a messy scene– Pools of blood surrounded Josephine and the smashed up apartment indicated there had been a struggle. She had been stabbed multiple times and a dress had been wrapped around her head. Usually, when a killer covers the face of a victim, it suggests that they feel a great deal of remorse about the crime they have committed and that death is almost always the end result of an impulsive sex crime. However, this seemed different. No evidence of sexual assault was present and death had definitely been the result of a frenzied attack. Police found a clump of dark hair in Josephine’s hand, as if she had been in a violent struggle with somebody. Naturally, police turned to her ex-boyfriends and ex-husbands, all of whom had an alibi. Although the neighbourhood was frightened at the prospect of a murderer living close by, the police assured people there was nothing to worry about and that Ms. Ross had been killed by a startled burglar. Her murder didn’t make the front page, and she was sadly written off by investigators.

Six months later, and we are in December. Our killer strikes again but, this time, police begin to take notice. On the 10th of the month, divorcee Frances Brown was found dead in her apartment. She had been stabbed and shot, the bread knife used in her murder still lodged in her throat when a cleaning lady discovered the body. The grim message shown above, written in unusual handwriting, was scrawled on the apartment wall in red lipstick (earning the killer his moniker) but apart from that, little evidence was found. Compared to the first murder, police did have a bit more to go on: a bloody fingerprint and a possible eyewitness. John Derick, the concierge for the lobby, said he saw a nervous man and heard “possible gunshots” at around 4 a.m. Given the lack of surveillance technology during the 40s, it was impossible to confirm John’s account.

The last known murder of the deluded “Lipstick Killer” was a truly shocking crime against an innocent little girl. Six-year-old Suzanne Degnan (below) was snatched from her bedroom in Edgewater, Chicago, on January of 1946. Her bedroom window had been left open and a wooden ladder was still propped up against it. At the time, police had no reason to believe her abduction was connected to the Lipstick killer, as kidnapping little girls didn’t fit his modus operandi. A ransom note left at the scene read “GeI $20,000 Reddy & wAITe foR WoRd. do NoT NoTify FBI oR Police. Bills IN 5’s & 10’s. BuRN This FoR heR SAfTY.” That night, a man persistently telephoned the Degnan residence demanding the ransom, only to hang up as details were being exchanged. Those phone calls would later turn out to be a cruel joke performed by two high-school students, Vince Costello and Theodore Campbell. Sick with anguish, her family could only hope that the police could find Suzanne before it was too late. Sadly, their worst fears were confirmed. Acting on an anonymous tip, detectives travelled to a sewer just a block away from the Degnan residence and found Suzanne’s decapitated head. Where was the rest of her body? Investigators were now faced with the grim prospect that somebody had dismembered a little girl, and they were unfortunately right. They found her torso in storm drain, and both her legs had been discarded in separate catch basins. Her tiny arms were found a month later in another sewer. Blood, presumed to be Suzanne’s, was found in the drains of laundry tubs in the basement laundry room of a nearby apartment building. This crime was truly grisly, and without advanced forensic technology, it was hard to bring the killer to justice.

In a desperate bid to catch the murderer, police questioned hundreds of suspects and gave polygraph examinations to about 170 of them. In several press releases, they claimed to have captured the killer terrorising the city of Chicago, but they were always mistaken. All suspects were eventually released.

In June, 17-year-old criminal William Heirens (below) was burgling an apartment when he was confronted by the janitor and fled. Police were called, and Heirens was subdued by an off-duty police officer who dropped several flowerpots onto his head to render him unconscious. From the day of his arrest on June 26, 1946, things travelled on a downward spiral for Heirens and this once lucky burglar had run all out of luck. For some reason, police believed that Heirens was the Lipstick Killer and decided to question him. For six consecutive days, he was interrogated by police officers. He was denied food, water, and the right to an attorney, and two psychiatrists even gave him Sodium Pentothal (a potent barbiturate) without his consent. Most shocking of all, the 17-year-old was given a spinal tap without any anaesthesia. For days later, he was in incredible pain and couldn’t perform a polygraph test because his adrenaline-fuelled heart was beating too fast. Eventually, he cracked. He confessed to police that he had committed these crimes under an alter-ego named “George.” He explained to psychologists that he always took the rap for the crimes of “George” including theft, murder, and everything in between. The Chicago police department were suspicious of this defence, and accused Heirens of lying in the hopes of getting an insanity defence in court. Apart from his confession, police had nothing to go on. No evidence linked Heirens to the murders, and this polite University of Chicago student seemed incapable of such heinous crimes. It seemed like a bizarre arrest, but for the general public, it was good enough.

As suggested by his defence attorneys, Heirens confessed to all crimes. On his court date on August 7, 1946, Heirens took full responsibility for the three murders. The prosecution had him reenact the abduction and murder of Suzanne Degnan in court multiple times, all of which he did inconsistently. On the night of September 4th, Heirens attempted suicide in his cell and had timed it to coincide during a shift change of the prison guards. He was discovered hanging and was revived successfully by prison guards. He said later that sheer despair drove him to attempt suicide; “Everyone believed I was guilty…If I weren’t alive, I felt I could avoid being adjudged guilty by the law and thereby gain some victory. But I wasn’t successful even at that. …Before I walked into the courtroom my counsel told me to just enter a plea of guilty and keep my mouth shut afterward. I didn’t even have a trial..”

The next morning, the prosecution and defence were making their closing statements. The judge, Chief Justice Harold G. Ward, formally sentenced Heirens to three life terms. Somehow, he had been lucky enough to avoid the electric chair. As Heirens waited to be transferred to Stateville Prison from the Cook County Jail, Sheriff Michael Mulcahy asked Heirens if Suzanne Degnan suffered when she was killed. Heirens simply replied: “I can’t tell you if she suffered, Sheriff Mulcahy. I didn’t kill her. Tell Mr. Degnan to please look after his other daughter, because whoever killed Suzanne is still out there.”

Likely innocent, William Heirens still spent the rest of his life imprisoned. In 2002, a petition for his release was filed but eventually denied. In his older years, he suffered from diabetes and was confined to a wheelchair with limited eyesight. He died of natural causes on March 5th, 2012, due to complications with his illness.

In 1994, Dolores Kennedy formed a team of forensic experts to look into the murders and they found several inconsistencies, most notable was that Heirens’ confessions didn’t fully match the evidence. Heirens claimed that he was forced to confess by the police, and this is also supported by other evidence. They also concluded that the handwriting of the lipstick message and that of the ransom note were not the same and that neither matched that of Heirens. They also looked into the police force working on the case: Before Heirens was arrested, police had taken particular interest in a janitor called Hector Verburgh. 65-year-old Hector was from Belgium, and struggled to write fluently in English. With this in mind, isn’t it odd that police still arrested him and accused him of the murders? How could a man with no knowledge of English writing, scribble such an eloquently written note on his supposed victim’s wall? It didn’t stop there. Like Heirens, Verburgh was subjected to extreme torture. For two days, police interrogated him and beat him so badly that he sustained a dislocated shoulder. After his terrifying ordeal, he successfully sued the Chicago Police Department for $15,000.

“Oh, they hanged me up, they blindfolded me … I can’t put up my arms, they are sore. They had handcuffs on me for hours and hours. They threw me in the cell and blindfolded me. They handcuffed my hands behind my back and pulled me up on bars until my toes touched the floor. I no eat, I go to the hospital. Oh, I am so sick. Any more and I would have confessed to anything.”

With such atrocious behaviour from the police department, it’s safe to say that the man convicted of these crimes was not the real killer, merely a scapegoat for shoddy police work. The true identity of the Lipstick Killer is yet to be discovered, and, sadly, it seems that those who were murdered were not the only victims in this disturbing case.

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plutoswrath · 5 years

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horror for each sign

(Warning: explict description of violence and disturbing scenes.)

Aries: Gruesome:

I sit in the living room. The TV is turned on but there is no sound but the endless noise of the static. Black and white orbs mix into my vision and the walls are painted red. It mixes beautifully with the minty wallpaper, now adorened with red roses. Mother was so annoying. Always telling me to move aside from the TV (’Stop watching TV!’). So I took the hammer Mother usues to tender the meat with. She sat in front of the TV. And I smash the hammer towards her head. Tendering her head like a fine filet. (Splatter. Splatter. Splatter. Crimson colored splatters everywhere). Mother is quiet and in my head everything is very loud. But then my favorite TV show comes on and I sit in front of the big, static scene. I forget Mothers now very well tendered head behind me. I am not bothered, being just by myself.

Taurus: Tragic:

This appartement is a nightmare to sell. I’ve had some tough cases and some tough clients, but this is...nothing I was prepared for. Nothing about appartement 26 seems off at frst. It’s rather small, I could even say it has the potential to be cozy and warm, but there is something eerie clawing on your back, as soon as you enter it. Not to mention the figures I see in the corner of my eye and in the mirrors sometimes. The carpet is old and smells like somebody desperately tried to clean it over and over again in order to cover something up (murder maybe?). The bed always looks as someone just sat on it, even though I made it minutes ago. I learned not to put my keys on the shelf because they will go missing and reapear on strange places (behind the shower curtains). I am doomed because I am bound to this appartement. There has been a number that keeps calling me and asks if it’s still avaible, we made an appointment for a visit, but no one appeared. I can’t call them back, the number isn’t avaible (that’s what the voice of the Lady at the other side of the receiver whispers). But this number keeps calling me, every Friday at 12pm. I know something happened there, but at this point I don’t dare to search for answers.

Gemini: Disastrous:

Once there was a man, with a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. The man drew a picture of his family every day - 4 people. Happy and smiling, eating dinner at the kitchen table. The man brushed his teeth every night before lying down to sleep and combed his 4 puppets hair. Humming, humming. He loved his puppets, dear companionship they were always there for him where did my family go? No need for a family I told her to stop shouting at me as his house is too small to grow one. Because he is alone and forever and will be and will not seek out for a real life company what do you mean they aren’t my children? Ding dong. I open the door and see a child a child that is not mine. I will refuse to accept that they aren’t mine I am alone and will keep me company, yes come in, I will buy some cookies, sit down on the couch, you want to look at my puppets?

Once there was a man, with a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. But enough space for a small family of puppets, now combing 5 heads every night before lying down to sleep.

Cancer: Cruel:

It is 08:30 pm. in the deepest of winter. The sun has set a long time ago and the world outside is warpped in a thick blanet of glistening snow. Four children brush their teeth before lying down to sleep, as they hear someone climbing down the stairs and opening the door.

“Children, lie down, will you? Uncle Vitja will tell you a nice story before you go to sleep, okay? Since your mother and father are still in that restaurant they mentioned earlier they told me to help you fall asleep. Of course I prepared a nice story from Russia, what kind of question - oh, just hear what I have to tell, okay? Have you ever heard of Baba Yaga? No? Ha! I thought so, now, listen closely..never, never go alone into the forest and be disrespectful to nature, you hear me? Baba Yaga has her eyes and ears everywhere and somewhere she will watch you when you try to pick all the flowers from the fields or demolish the trees with a knife; yes I am looking at all of you! You are closeby teh forest, so pay attention! Her hut can’t be found since it stands on chicken legs and wanders around. Also you can’t enter even when you find it, because it turns around when sensing intrudors. But you’ll notice if its her shack even when it looks normal because the garden is adorned with human skulls since she likes eating us. Huh? What are you looking at me? I only tell the truth! She is one with the earth and one with life and death; she decides who needs to die and who doesn’t but this all...makes her hungry at times, it’s exhausting you know and the flesh of humans is so tender....”

Uncle Vitjas eyes run across the room as he turns to the opened window.

“Rule number one: never leave your windows open when your parents aren’t home. Yaga smells the bad spirit of mean children!”

And his eyes turn red and his nose long. His back shrinks and his skin turns to bark. The teeth long and metallic. The children are in shock and fear grips them tightly as the old womans long finger hover over to them. They can only hope for their parents to come home soon.

Leo: Mad:

“Manot? Dear, is that you? (.....) Dear, don’t be mistaken, I am sorry for troubling you with my calls lately, but I am so far away and I needed to hear you voice (.....) Oh silly, have you forgotten how to speak? I called your mom yesterday because I read that you couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes after stealing the money she put aside for your fathers surgery (...) Oh- so sorry, I know you told me not to read your diary, but please, put those dangerous pills aside and come to me - no rehab needed, just my ever lasting love that heals you (............) Manot...now, don’t be mean. I wouldn’t break into your home if you would just give me the keys like I asked you to in my last love letter!! Pay attention to my words and you wouldn’t be so troubled all the time!! Stupid bitch, igoring me and my love as always, why do you think you’re higher than me? (.................) Can’t say something? (...............) Hello? (.......crrk.........) Hello? Are you recording this? Just wait till I come home! Hope you don’t fall asleep without me, hehe, mind it if you could put on those sweet mint colored panties you wore back than as you graduated? I loved these...ha..... (....). Well then, I need to go to work now. See you soon love. Bye.”

Virgo: Cold:

Our Grandmother used to tell us stories about her old school. Stories I like to tell my friends when we sit together for a drink after work. She has always been a funny woman, she’s been a clever kid that liked to trick her teachers at times and told me she never got into trouble because of the ‘funny’ old man (a monk to be specific) that apparently no one saw except her. The school (having been a monestary in the past) was old and full of history. And the kids gave the dead walls new life. And so did my Grandmother to this dead man who never talked but stood in the corner, pointing to opened windows she snook out when her teachers turned away. Or directing her to the funny old photobooks of former students in the big library. He never left the grounds of the school though. She was young - 8 years old maybe - and felt special to have made such an ‘unique and special friend’, that she never thought about the fact that it could’ve been a ghost. So I asked her if he was nice. Her smile turned crooked and she looked out of the window as she answered: “I think he was once, but he was lonely for too long. One day I walked down the hallway and he pointed to staircase to the cellar or our school - something we were forbidden to go to under any circumstances because of the gigantic oven that stood there. Well, as idiotic as I was I followed him, but right in front of the doorway I stopped. His smile was off and he pointed into the black room where the giants red and orange mouth of the oven smiled at me. I felt the chance in the air and left, shaking my head. He looked angry and sad at the same time. Later that day one of our students went missing. And they found him. 2 days later, his ashes and bones in the oven. I am glad I was smart enough not to walk into the room that day and I never saw that monk again.”

Libra: Erroneous:

‘I love you, I love you’, I whisper as I turn the knife in your chest and stab into you heart for more than a thousand times. All the times I told you I loved you, I revisit those memories and breath heavily as I remember our first kiss. ‘Ah, your eyes are beautiful..’ So I plunge them out and put them in a jar, I place them on the top of my bookshelf so I can look at them and you can look at me when I lie down to sleep. I f e e l t h e w a r m t h o f y o u r b l o o d o n m y b o d y G o d y o u f e e l s o g o o d. I love the way you looked at me and you loved my smile so I engrave it into my skin, on my face - forever. I place my hand on your chest and the open wound allows me to toucg your heart. I smell you and feel you.

I l o v e y o u.

Scorpio: Demonic:

‘It is him who writes the names behind our wallpaper, when our little daughter tells me to look behind it. He is the nightmare that keeps her up at night, the monster underneath her bed, the long black hair that is tickling me in the shower. There is a shadow I feel standing behind me, someone breathing in my neck; the wind that is closing and opeing our doors and the force that drags me from the couch every time I try to sleep there. The feeling of someone standing behind me and watching how the blood begins to pump under the constant pressure in our own precious four walls. There are eyes inside of the dark- A pair of two red eyes accompanying me everywhere. They are placed in every little black corner in our house. I see them in the reflection of the TV and the computer screen. They are bloody and since weeks our sleeping room smells foul. And it is I who brought him here in order to bring you back, my dear, and I brought sin over our love, over our home, over the one I swore to protect. And I will continue protecting her - in heaven.’

Love, Helena

(To whoever finds this: leave the ruins of this home and never come back.He will follow.)

Sagittarius: Bloody:

I once visited this town on one of my trips. It was small and far away from the next bigger city, but people from all around it swooned over the restaurants that has been there for several generations - apparently it served the finest meat in town. So naturally, I ordered a table for one the following day and tried a steak myself. Indeed, it was fine - very fine, tender and beautifully pink colored in the middle. I am confused though: I haven’t seen any fields with cattles or any farms on my way to this city. Nor do they have many tourists here; so how does this restaurant survive over the years? Then again, my uncle is an ivestigator and told me that near the next biggest city that is two hours away have been reported people that went missing over the past 50 years. And seemingly, they never reappeared. But they cases went cold since there were almost no hints or tracks.

Oh god .

What am I eating?

Capricorn: Sinnful:

Day after day he cared for the old cathedral, being the only Pastor to talk to for the old village, in the dark times of WW1 being the voice of sanity that bring clarification for the desperate citizens. “God”, he asked one day, knees on the ground, “why does his happen to us? What did we do, our small village, to deserve being conflicted in this war?” God - knowing that the higher sense of the things happening aren’t for this man to understand, the pastor knowing for sure that it is evi, tempted people creating chaos on earth - kept quiet and knew this was an inner war he had to fight for himself. The devil - listening as well - being sneaky and answering the man instead: “You want to know?”, he asked alluring. The pastor cried. “Yes..all this blood and murder..” Content the devil whispered into the ear of the Pastor, telling him all the sins of the people in town, showing him that there is no such thing as innocence. No, every time someone dared to go to the confessional, it was not the Pastors voice answering him. Something dark devoured his soul that night, letting him lose hope in good and moral. And he shamed them. And he pushed their souls to the cliff in times of gruesomeness. And no one dared to put a foot into the church, even after the war. Because an old, bald man with bloodstained eyes wrote hieroglyphics on the wall at night, talked in gibberish and dared to haunt everyone who stepped into this holy place with their sinfull souls.

Aquarius: Immoral:

24.11.2017. Day 23. I didn’t leave the labor for almost a month now. I am not interested in eating. I don’t want to sleep. I just...can’t stop hearing those screams of this...abstrusity the doctor shot two days ago. I think he lost his mind. He thinks creating live is like cooking: grabbing some ingredients that seem to get along together and putting it all into one mixing bowl - hoping for the best. But that’s not it. That’s against nature, that is...disgusting. He is whispering names to those dead mutated baby animals. (Sophie, wasn’t it?) He hopes for them to live, but how are they supposed to live if they can’t even move their limbs? I wonder now, how far will he go? I am afraid he will test on me. I am a female, perfect to give birth to whatever he wants me to. I need to find a way out of here, before I become one of his subjects. He looks at me always a little too long at times. And he complimented my wide hips once. I will hide this letter somewhere safe, so he won’t find it, but please, if someone’s gonna find this and me, nurse ▇▇ ▇▇▇ is no more, please, stop this madness. He has a cellar I am not allowed to go in, God knows what he is keeping in there, since I already know where he is keeping the animals. To whoever reads this, stay safe, don’t be fooled by easy money making like me.

Pisces: Otherworldly :

Mom doesn’t believe me.

She doesn’t believe that there is a Boogeyman in the closet, with yellow eyes and long, long fingers that tries to grab little children in their sleep. She doesn’t believe that when I close the door behind me, I can hear someone scratching at the other side of it. She doesn’t believe that there is someone standing in front of the window at night, that’s why I close the curtains always for her and force her to look away when the dark figures in the mirrors try to scare her. Mom hates the footsteps at night, but I just try to catch those bats that get into our attic every night. He sends them and tries to scare her so much so that she falls down the stairs and breaks her neck.

Mom didn’t believe me back then and years later after I died in this house she still tries do deny the evil in it. But I am here to protect her. Even tho she is afraid of me, I love her and will forever be by her side.

#wanted to do that for a year #sorry if its not for everyone #i like.....writing stuff like that especially when its a bit more abstract like aries gemini or libra #astrology #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #own #mine

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flatlineforest · 4 years

Text

A Gift For You (Genyatta)

Zenyatta is a gift for Genji’s birthday from his older brother Hanzo. Genji excitedly tries out his new toy.

Warnings: Penis - in- vagina sex, wireplay,

Wordcount: 2386

Read on AO3 here! Originally posted on 12/26/2017.

It felt as if it had only been seconds since his master had powered down his systems - he could still feel the words of shock and surprise in the forefront of his mind as his power was restored. His eyes were the last things that would come online but his voice box was functional quickly - he reached out, attempting to stop the man from pulling his wires on instinct as his box bubbled out the only thoughts his mind had available, “No- please, don’t-.” He went silent and still after that as his sensors came online one by one. When his eyes came online, he was met with the terrified look of a young human man - certainly not the master Zenyatta had been expecting to see. “Oh…” Zenyatta trailed - taking in the traditional Japanese architecture mixed in with modern anime posters and technology before finally returning to the man in front of him. His eyes scanned the human, taking in the vibrant green hair, the lithe build concealing and downplaying what had to be some serious muscles.

“...Are you okay?” The human asked, sheepish as he looked over his new omnic. His brother had presented him with a card simply saying that his present would be waiting in his room and to have fun using it. He hadn’t expected a sexbot to be a gift from his brother, but then again he was always complaining about how Genji would have to sneak his one night stands in through Hanzo’s wing of the private quarters. The sexbot was exquisite - Genji had spent ten minutes examining its various parts and pieces and looking at the diagrams in the instructions manual before he even thought about powering it on.

“Ah...Yes, sir, I am okay,” Zenyatta replied, hesitant. His training was starting to kick in - though he hadn’t exactly been prepared to meet his new master as he had been expecting. He bowed down low, surprised to see that in the time he was powered down, he had received some minor customizations and was dressed in a rather nice teal lingerie set. “I am Zenyatta, your new sexbot. Do you prefer to be called master or mistress?” he chimed, recalling his introductory lines perfectly.

“...I...I would prefered to be called master,” replied the human, seeming to deflate in his concern as Zenyatta started his standard setup lines, as had been outlined in the manual. “My name is Genji, and I am your new owner.” He hadn’t exactly planned out what he was going to say to the sexbot - had inspected him thoroughly and even took the opportunity to dip some fingers into those cute, newly installed custom lips and his adorable, handcrafted pussy. His gift was gorgeous and Genji didn’t feel like resisting his attraction to it much.

“Okay, Master Genji. Are there any acts you would like me to perform for you tonight? I am well trained in pleasing people of all sorts of anatomy-” Zenyatta began, tilting his head as the human seemed to blush and fumble for words. “Have you never used a sexbot before, master?” He took a smooth step forward and placed a hand out on Genji’s shoulder - offering all of his services in just one movement.

His master seemed shy for a moment before he nodded - and before Zenyatta could register what was happening, he was pulled in against that surprisingly muscled chest and a kiss was pressed to his newly installed synthetic lips...His very first kiss. Nobody had even bothered to kiss his faceplate while he was in training and now all of the sensations from newly installed and uncalibrated sensors was driving pleasure through all of his circuits. He clumsily pressed his lips back against Genji’s, checking through all of his protocols to find one that instructed him on how to use his new lips and functional mouth.

His master pulled away with a small, fond laugh. “Ahh...I realized that your lips were customized but I did not think that meant you had not been trained to use them.” He kept an arm around Zenyatta’s waist, leading the omnic back towards his bed. He brought the two of them to sit down and for a moment, Zenyatta was struck by how gentle the human was being. The other omnics and the limited number of humans that had trained him had left him expecting his future owner to be cruel and rough at all times and certainly not capable of the level of basic affection that Genji had already exhibited.

Genji pulled the naked omnic into his lap and soon followed up with additional, sweet kisses that were intended to teach the bot how to use his lips. It vaguely reminded Genji of the other people he had taught to kiss - various playmates and friends over the years. But the omnic was certainly a faster learner than the human counterparts- pressing up into the kiss while pushing his hips down against Genji’s lap. He trailed his fingers down the omnic’s shining chrome frame, stopping occasionally to tweak at a wire or connector slot. Every time his fingers skimmed over such features, the omnic would shiver in his lap and became pliant.

His fingers stopped just above that delicious space between the omnic’s thighs, where his perfect pussy was hidden. He wasn’t quite ready to cross that boundary - still hesitant at the idea of using an omnic, particularly after the recent influx of omnic rights activists appearing in the news. He didn’t normally consider himself a moral person, but he did generally want his partners ready and willing.

Zenyatta pulled away from the kiss, movement punctuated by a small shiver and a hum. “Would you like to use one of my services? I am well trained in many sexual acts, and I am more than willing to please…” He trailed his hands, previously wrapped around the human’s neck, down his master’s body. He hummed as he reached the other’s waistband, delicate fingers toying with the belt there. “I would like to service you, sir…”

How could Genji deny such a pretty, sweet omnic?

He was quick to lay the omnic down onto his back against Genji’s mattress, spreading the other’s legs with a quick, smooth movement. He pressed a couple of kisses to the omnic’s shining chestplate, moving off to the side to slide his tongue into those sensitive connector ports. The omnic’s back arched, synthetic voice box glitching for a few seconds as its untouched ports were teased and circled by Genji’s skilled tongue.He pressed the omnic’s hips down onto the bed with his hands, keeping him pinned as he dipped the very tip of his tongue into that connector port.

The omnic’s hands came to tangle in Genji’s hair - though he found that he didn’t mind it very much. He could sit there and play with those polished wire ports all night just to hear his pretty bot sing for him, but his cock pressing heavy and thick against his waistband had him deciding that it was time to get the show on the road. He trailed his hand down from the omnic’s right hip down to that pretty place between his legs that Genji had scouted out earlier. There, the omnic was already warm and wet, waiting just for Genji to take advantage of. He circled his fingers over the omnic’s fat clit just to hear him sing again before Genji was dipping his head down to settle it between the omnic’s legs.

The instruction manual had mentioned something about checking the omnic’s calibration, to ensure an appropriate level of sensitivity, but that was the furthest thing from Genji’s mind as he wrapped his lips around that enticing clit and dragged his fingers through the omnics plentiful, mint colored slick. The omnic moaned loud and enthusiastic above him, his thighs pressing against the sides of Genji’s head as he was suddenly gifted with a wave of incredible pleasure. Genji found he didn’t mind wearing those gorgeous, shining thighs as earmuffs as he pressed two fingers into Zenyatta’s cunt.

The omnic froze for a few seconds before his hips were pressing down, trying desperately to get spread on those teasing fingers. Zenyatta’s processors were trying to keep up with all of the sensations he was feeling - he recalled in the past that such actions had not provided nearly that much pleasure and searched through his protocols for the source of this extra pleasure...Only to find that in the time he had been powered down, the sensitivity on all of his sensors had been increased tenfold. Goodness, it seemed as if he was going to glitch out from all of the pleasure he was receiving, particularly as his master’s fingers started to rub circles against a sensor within his pussy.

He was preparing to speak to his master, to explain the situation, when Genji’s tongue began to flick at his clit. His back arched and his hips pressed up in an instant, desperately pressing his pussy against his master’s face as he was brought to the edge of an orgasm. He just needed a little bit more, one more lick of stimulation in order to to cum fast and messy for his master.

Genji kept his little bot on the edge for a few seconds, maintaining the stimulation but refusing to give him more. He wanted to build it up just a bit longer, to see just what Zenyatta could do, but then a bunch of glitched out clicks and whines burst from the bot’s voice box. Genji couldn’t help but give in to the omnic’s incoherent begging, reaching up to dig his fingers rough and uncoordinated into those pretty wire ports he had been molesting earlier.

The effect was immediate; the omnic tensed above him as his back arched higher before he was collapsing against the bed. That synthetic pussy was squeezing in frantic, wet waves around his fingers all the while oozing out more fragrant synthetic slick. Genji groaned into the sexbot’s cunt before shoving his soaked hand down his own pants to tug on his dick for some relief. The slick on his fingers was warm, and the sensation on his cock had him hissing as he chased it, wishing he was spearing the sexbot’s pussy on his length.

He realized the omnic had offlined for a few seconds and was rebooting, and took the time to strip himself of his clothes. He stroked himself idly, looking at where the omnic’s slick pussy was dripping slick just for his enjoyment. He wasn’t sure how it had never occurred to him to buy a sexbot for himself - he had a bot specifically for his own enjoyment and he couldn’t wait to use the bot and claim it with his cum.

Zenyatta came online slowly, registering where his pussy was still twitching with residual pleasure, and turned his head towards his master. His lips quirked upwards in a satisfied smile, protocols in an amplifying feedback loop as he realized he was going to be able to provide his services for his new master. He spread his legs just a bit more and beckoned Genji forward with his finger.

Genji didn’t need to be told twice, settling back between Zenyatta’s spread legs. He rubbed his cock through Zenyatta’s slick folds for a few moments, shivering at how the warm slick clung to him. He wasn’t expecting to feel the air knocked out of him as he finally sunk his cock into that wet place he had his fingers in not three minutes before. He hadn’t prepared himself for how Zenyatta’s walls seemed to stretch around his cock before pressing around him - synthetic system adjusting specifically to hug around the shape of Genji’s cock and Genji’s cock alone.

He threw his head back and moaned, unable to help himself as he rabbit humped his hips forward into the omnic, taking his pleasure from the ready and willing sexbot. Where he would normally be more generous with his partner - make them sigh and gasp from the long strokes of his cock into their bodies, pressing deeper than most of their partners and hitting those spots that brought so much pleasure - he couldn’t hold back from using his gift as if it were nothing but a cheap fleshlight purchased months into a dry spell.

The worst part - or perhaps the best - was how the omnic seemed to like it. Perhaps it was those increased sensitivity levels that Hanzo had requested in his purchase order, or out of protocol satisfaction, but something had the omnic moaning out eagerly with each shallow hump of Genji’s hips. Genji leaned down, licking into the omnic’s mouth as his hands pressed down on those perfectly designed hips. He was glad for the omnic’s well polished chrome, and metal chassis because he was certain a human would be complaining at how much weight Genji was leaning against his partner. But Zenyatta took it all in stride, and even thanked him.

“T-T-Thank you, sir!” The omnic moaned out and Genji was going to pipe back -”for what?”- but he was interrupted as the omnic’s pussy suddenly clenched around him. His mind blanked for a few seconds before he registered that the omnic was able to cum on just Genji’s cock humping into his pussy, selfish and rude. The thought was enough for Genji - had his cock twitching valiantly in that perfect pussy as he painted it with his thick ropes of cum. He dropped his weight down onto the omnic, and continued to lazily grind his hips into the omnic just to drag out his orgasm.

It took him five minutes to pull his softening cock out of the omnic and to roll onto the bed next to him. He wrapped an arm around the bot and where the other seemed to think he would get powered off, he was instead brought to place his head against his master’s chest

“Lay with me for a while. When I can get it up again, we’re gonna see if you can squirt for me, pretty little thing.”

Zenyatta grinned to himself, and wondered how he got so lucky to get such a hot, indulgent master. He had a feeling they were going to get up to some incredible things.

#genyatta #old fic #forest writes

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allisondraste · 5 years

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Temperance (26/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary: Starkhaven is the worst. Or is it? Nathaniel receives some unfortunate postage and has an encounter with an infamous Prince.

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Starkhaven, 9:24 Dragon

Insulting was not quite strong enough of a word to describe what it was like to be squired at the age of eighteen. It was a boy’s occupation: carrying shields, saddling horses, tending to armor, and completing whatever menial, and often embarrassing tasks a knight commanded. Nathaniel could name a thousand things he would rather do than dress and undress that pompous arse, Rodolphe, every bloody morning and every bloody evening. One would think that being a knight would mean that a man was exceptionally well-versed in the daily tasks of living, adept at putting on and removing his own Maker-forsaken armor, but no. That was a squire’s job, and Nathaniel loathed every single moment of it.

Starkhaven was a pleasant enough place to live, he supposed, with its glistening streets and architecture that boasted of its immense wealth. The city, which straddled the Minanter River, spanned the expanse of an entire valley, surrounded at the far edges by towering walls and a mountainous terrain. Nowhere in Ferelden compared in cleanliness or opulence. Still, Nathaniel found himself missing home. Starkhaven’s climate was too forgiving, with its mild winters and occasional rain showers. There were not enough dogs or fur-lined, grim-faced people. There was no Liss.

That was his problem, wasn’t it? He should have been thrilled to be out from under Father’s thumb, happy to be in a new country with nice weather and the chance to learn new things. As humiliating as his daily tasks were, it was nothing compared to living at home with Father. He should have been grateful for his newfound freedom, yet his separation from Liss was still an open, gaping wound that wouldn't heal.

His plan had been to pretend she no longer existed, to throw himself into his training entirely, to meet new people, to forget about her. It was supposed to be simple, and it would have been, had she not sent that damn letter. She loved him, and it made everything difficult. How dare she say such important things in a letter a year after he needed to hear it? She complicated everything and he’d chosen to be angry about it, because that was easier than feeling how he actually felt. He had stuffed the letter in the top drawer of his dresser, slammed it shut, and it remained there ever since.

Nathaniel stood by the dresser, staring at the drawer in question and tracing the brass knob with his fingertips . Who was he trying to convince, anyway? It wasn’t as if hiding the letter under a pile of socks made him any less aware of its presence. Every single day, he bit back the urge to read it again, to sit down and write out a response to her. Every day he told himself that it was for the best that he didn’t. The last thing he wanted was for Liss to waste her time waiting for him to return when he could make no promises that he would. He desperately longed for her to be happy, even if he couldn’t be there to see it. To write to her, to confess his feelings to her would be a cruel extension of a childish fantasy. They would never be together, and he had to believe that.

Still, he tugged at the knob, sliding the drawer open so that he could pull out the small envelope with his name on it, written in Liss’ elegant swirls of black ink. His chest tightened like a vice just looking at it. It tightened again as the door to his room swung open with such force that it slammed against the wall.

“Howe,” chirped the young man standing in the doorway. His toothy grin sat on a freckled face, framed by coppery red locks. “What’re you still doing up here, lazy arse.”

“Kenric! There is this thing called ‘knocking,’” Nathaniel spat, “You should try it some time.”

“It’s my room, too, you know.”

“I am well aware, Ben,” he sighed, “I listen to you snore every night.”

Benedict Kenric was the third son of some minor lord in Starkhaven, and he’d been squired at the same time as Nathaniel, despite being four years younger. They had been roommates since the first day, and he got onto every last one of Nathaniel’s nerves. He was kind, with boundless energy and enthusiasm, but he was nosy and undisciplined. It was difficult not to slap him from time to time.

Ben entered the room proudly and closed the door, leaning against the wall next to the dresser as he glanced between Nathaniel’s face and the letter in his hand.

“Don’t,” Nathaniel warned, returning the letter to the drawer and shutting it forcefully, “I know what you are going to say, and… just don’t.”

“What? You mean you can’t handle a little prodding about that Fereldan lass of yours?” Ben’s grin spread more widely across his face. “She must be something else, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, words clipped.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, then I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in this,” Ben drawled sarcastically, pulling a small envelope from his coat and waving it in front of Nathaniel’s face. It was difficult to make out what the writing said due to all of the movement, but he would recognize Liss’ handwriting anywhere.

Nathaniel snatched the envelope from Ben’s hands so that he could see it more clearly. It was addressed to him, and his pulse jumped. She’d written to him again, even though he had not replied.

“Where did you get this?”

“Came with a bird this morning,” Ben answered, lifting his shoulders into an awkward shrug, “Ravenmaster told me to give it to you.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked down to the envelope in his hand and then back up to the copper-haired boy in front of him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Nate,” Ben said without an ounce of resentment for the way Nathaniel had been speaking to him. He motioned to the door with his thumb. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Yes.” Nathaniel nodded, eyes fixed on the letter in his hand as he moved to sit down on the edge of his bed. “I will see you at the sparring ring in a bit.”

“Don’t take too long. You know how Rodolphe gets about punctuality.”

“Rodolphe can bite me,” Nathaniel muttered under his breath, flinching when the other boy cackled. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“You have my word,” Ben said, placing his hand over his heart solemnly before exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

It wasn’t until Nathaniel attempted to open the letter that he realized his hands were shaking. His heart pounded behind his ears and he fought stubbornly to keep the tears that welled in his eyes from falling. Andraste’s blood, he needed to hold it together. Breaking the wax seal that bore the letter “C” surrounded by a wreath of laurel branches, he pulled out the folded piece of parchment inside.

Dear Nate,

I hope this letter finds you happy and well in Starkhaven. If I am honest, I was rather shocked and disappointed that you never responded to my last letter. Papa tells me that you are probably just too busy to write. Fergus says that you are being, to use his exact words, “a little shit head.” I am not certain how to feel about it. After speaking to Delilah, who has also not heard from you since you left, I decided that I am — at the very least— worried about you.

I understand if you chose not to answer me because of the things I said the last time I wrote. It was a lot, and after I sent it off, I immediately regretted it. Nothing has changed about how I feel, but I shouldn’t have told you in writing. You deserve to hear those words in person. You know me: impatient and thoughtless as ever. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

What I don’t understand is you not writing to your sister. She and your brother are alone with your father now, and Tom isn’t handling it well. Delilah is worried about him, and you, and you should really write to her. She misses you.

My family and I miss you, too. It is wild, but last year when I wrote to you, Fergus and Oriana were just getting married, and now they have a baby. I have a nephew! His name is Oren, and Nate, he is the most adorable little baby in the entire world. (Thankfully, he took after Oriana, so everyone is thrilled about that.) You should have seen Fergus. He was a blubbering mess. He is going to be such a good father, I can tell. As for Aunt Liss? Well, I intend to spoil little Oren until he is completely rotten.

I wish you could meet him.

Your father has been insufferable since you left. Any chance he has to make it known that Bryce Cousland’s “little spitfire,” is still “unattached,” he takes it. If I ever once implied that I wanted Rendon Howe to be my personal matchmaker, I take it back. I swear to the Maker, I take it back. I’m sure you don’t find this as hilarious as I do, but just know, I’m laughing for the both of us.

You also won’t find this funny either, but since you haven’t spoken with anyone back here in Ferelden, I feel like I need to tell you: Ever since we danced at Fergus’ engagement festival, rumors have been spreading like the Blight. Did you know that my parents have been hiding my secret, illegitimate pregnancy with your bastard child? That’s why you were sent away, and I’m not seeing any suitors. That’s one of the tame ones! At first I was bothered by them all, but I’ve started to use them as jokes at parties. Made King Maric snort wine out his nose with one of them.

Anyway, look at me rambling. I have so many things tucked away in my head to say, so many things I want to tell you. I miss our talks. I miss holding your hand. I am jealous of Starkhaven for getting to be near you. Maker, I’m being such a sap. I know. I’m sorry.

I still love you. One ignored letter changes nothing. If you want me to stop, you’ll have to write and tell me so.

Love, Liss

Tears dropped from Nathaniel’s eyes and onto the parchment, and he reached up to wipe them away with his sleeve. Damn Liss and her letters that tore down every last inch of the wall he’d been building over the past two years. Though he knew she did not mean it, each of her words was a twisted knife into an already open wound, reminding him that it was, in fact, still there.

Frustrated with himself, he folded the letter, stuffed it back into its envelope, and tossed it into the dresser with the other letter. He slammed the drawer shut, grabbed his archery gear, and headed outside to the range. He still had an hour before his actual training began, and he needed to clear his head in the best way he knew how. The only way he knew how.

Archery required a high degree of concentration and bodily awareness, things which made it an ideal distraction from any sort of stress or emotional turmoil. It was impossible to hurt so deeply while he minded his posture and attempted to gain control over his breath, as he noted the force and direction of the wind, and as he nocked and released arrow after arrow. After so many years of practice, the motions came as naturally as breathing. If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself he was back at home.

Something flying past his face snapped him back to Starhaven, just in time to see an arrow split one of his own arrows in half, and sink into the target. Nathaniel snapped his head in the direction from which the projectile came. A young man, around his age, stood several feet behind him wearing a smug smile across his face. He had dark skin and dark hair that sat in direct contrast to his bright, piercing blue eyes. His armor, his bow, everything was gilded, and it was no stretch to assume that Nathaniel was looking at one of the Vael princes.

“You are a skilled archer,” the prince said genially, taking several steps toward Nathaniel.

“Not as skilled as you, Your Highness,” Nathaniel mumbled dispassionately, attempting to hide his annoyance over the ruined arrow.

“Ah, so you know who I am, then?” To his credit, the man looked genuinely surprised. “What gave me away?”

“The gold.” Nathaniel remarked. And the arrogance. He wouldn’t say such things allowed, but every royal person he’d ever met held some degree of arrogance in their posture, the way they spoke. It was unintentional, and likely the result of being worshipped from the time they were born. Still, it grated on Nathaniel’s nerves.

The prince laughed, and extended a hand to Nathaniel. An odd gesture for royalty, but Nathaniel shook it nonetheless. “It appears I am at a disadvantage. I am Sebastian Vael, youngest prince of Starkhaven, and an eternal thorn in my father’s side. Who are you?”

“I am Nathaniel,” he replied, his own name like cotton in his mouth, “Howe.”

“You are the Howe that was squired a year ago,” Sebastian asked, raising his eyebrows, “I have to say, I was expecting someone less... competent.”

“How do you know I’m not,” Nathaniel joked.

“Incompetent noble sons do not carry themselves as you do,” Sebastian explained, a sad smile quirking up at the corners of his mouth as his eyes seemed to focus on something off in the distance. He shook his head and brought his gaze back to meet Nathaniel’s. “Not to mention, you are damn good with a bow. Did I see you shooting with both hands?”

“I… yes,” he spluttered, “Thank you.”

“I haven’t been able to do that no matter how hard I try. Impressive.”

An awkward silence filled the air between them before Nathaniel dared to speak again. “Pardon my frankness, but you are an unusual prince.”

Another laugh. “‘Unusual’ is a kind way to put it. I am usually referred to as self-indulgent, shallow, vain, lecherous, unrefined, ill-mannered, and so on. My father’s personal favorite is ‘useless.’”

The sting of the prince’s relatable words caught Nathaniel off guard, and he flinched before snorting out a laugh. “My father likes that one, too.”

Sebastian’s face fell into a somber expression. “I would rather be useless than be what my father wishes me to be.”

Though he had never thought about it before, Nathaniel felt the same. Why had he worked so hard to earn his father’s respect, when he did not want to be what his father found respectable. He would rather be himself, his father be damned.

“Anyway,” Sebastian said, clapping Nathaniel on the shoulder, “I have to go. Some boring something with some Revered Mother. It was nice to meet you, Nathaniel. We should speak again sometime. We could get a pint and complain about our fathers some more, yes?”

Nathaniel smiled and nodded. “I would like that, Your Highness.”

“Please, none of that,” the other man said as he walked away, “Just call me Sebastian. It’s more fitting.”

Nathaniel watched as Sebastian sauntered away, gait still so proud despite his talk. He found himself a bit enamored with the prince, or at least the idea of him. He was attractive, certainly, and it was rare to find someone with whom he had so much in common. It was even rarer to meet someone who understood his complaints with his father. He shook his head. No. A deep breath. He was just sad, lonely, frustrated even. He would not cover up his heartache with ridiculous infatuation. Besides, he could not even be sure that Sebastian would be open to the idea of being with another man.

Maker. What was wrong with him? This was completely out of character, wasn’t it? Or had it simply been hidden behind his dedication to Liss for so long that he had never experienced what it was like to be attracted to someone else? Did this mean he was getting better? He certainly hoped so. He could not continue on forever with a seeping hole in his chest. He was nowhere near ready to pursue anything with anyone, let alone a prince, but at least he had some idea that it might be possible.

He walked forward to the target and removed the arrows, including Sebastians, which he placed in his quiver. A voice rang out behind him, causing his back to stiffen.

“I see you finally met Prince Sebastian.” It was Rodolphe’s booming voice that called out. “Poor lad. He’s been handed everything he’s ever wanted from the moment he was born, and he’s thrown it all back in his parents’ faces.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat and turned to face Rodolphe. “He seems like a good man, Ser.”

“He is,” Rodolphe admitted, with a touch of affection in his voice, “ I just wish he’d act like it. He is going to get himself into a situation he will not be able to weasel out of.”

He’d never heard the knight be so open and it was clear he cared for Sebastian, so he pressed for more information. “Like what, Ser?”

“The boy has slept with half of Starkhaven. He’s a deviant.”

“Sounds like he knows how to have a good time.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Nathaniel,” Rodolphe scolded, unable to sense the sarcasm behind Nathaniel’s words, “Your honor is mine.”

“I shall endeavor not to besmirch it, Ser.”

There was a pause as Rodolphe shook the smile from his face, clearly bothered by the lapse of his stern, pompous exterior. It was good to see that he had a softer side to him. He looked down at Nathaniel’s bow and then out to the target.

“I know that you favor ranged weapons, but bows are useless in melee combat,” he stated, grasping for something to criticize, “So they are useless for a knight.”

“Not necessarily,” Nathaniel replied, pulling Sebastian’s arrow from the quiver, nocking, and releasing.

“Oh?”

Nathaniel shot another arrow, more rapidly than the first. “You just have to be faster than your opponent.”

“And if you are not?”

Nathaniel’s lips quirked up into a grin as he aimed his arrow precisely, releasing it so that it split the prince’s arrow in half, before turning and facing Rodolphe. “Well, Ser, a bow works as well as any other blunt object if you swing it hard enough.”

Rodolphe appeared to stifle a chuckle, raising his eyebrows instead. “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”

Drawing his shoulders up into a shrug, Nathaniel said, “If I am going to get into trouble, I would rather it be for speaking my mind, than for nothing at all.”

Rodolphe met his gaze and nodded knowingly. Perhaps he was not such a pompous arse after all.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #sebastian vael #nathaniel howe x cousland #update #temperance #my writing

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

Text

Hathor & Sekhmet

Hathor: About to slap myself so you'll feel it Hathor: wherever you are ain't where you should be Sekhmet: what im sleep Sekhmet: 😴😴😴 Hathor: wake up 👊🏽 Hathor: you asked me to meet you, remember? Sekhmet: I think that's tomorrow Sekhmet: I said Wednesday, right Hathor: That's today Hathor: you blackout past Tuesday? Sekhmet: You're joking Sekhmet: well then, that means I've got a deadline I gotta meet and not a whole lot of time for brunch dates Hathor: you're joking Hathor: I cancelled on a fine boy for you Sekhmet: it's so early you got time to hit it back Sekhmet: I know I didn't tell you I'd meet you at the crack of dawn Hathor: you didn't and you're late af still Sekhmet: chill sis, I'll make it up to you Hathor: yeah Hathor: anyone else'd be offended you don't ever want to have a sober conversation Hathor: but I'll see you in the club Sekhmet: girl, chill 😂 Sekhmet: how fine was he that you're all kinds of vexed with me Sekhmet: don't even care how I'm gonna make it up to you, oh my days 🥴🍆🧠 for real Hathor: he's got prospects, I'm not saying any more than that if you're not coming out 👅 Hathor: I'll care how you're gonna make it up when you next show up for real Sekhmet: ugh! living up to your name 🐮 Sekhmet: bitch I'm busy 😏 the juggle is real Hathor: you know I don't say that shit lightly except once in a blue moon, however fine a lad be looking Hathor: but if you don't wanna hear it Sekhmet: is he 🧑🏾🧑🏿 Hathor: 🥛 Hathor: nobody is more surprised than me Sekhmet: 👏🙌 yay Sekhmet: I told you, white boys are the best Sekhmet: they treat us like 👸 Hathor: It's his Irish accent tricking me Hathor: I gotta take a trip back and cure myself Sekhmet: awh, you're homesick, precious Sekhmet: now it makes sense why you wanna tie me down Hathor: can barely understand him he's from so far north, more likely that Sekhmet: throwback 📟 📠 📺 📻 Hathor: get the psych dept to pull their shrink shit on me about it Sekhmet: You wanna be just like Vee, sorted Sekhmet: take my PhD now 💁 Hathor: be more disrespectful! first you stand me up and then put that out there Sekhmet: 🤭 you've got a ways to go, even if you're rolling mad extra today Hathor: I didn't ask 👼🏽💘 to 🎯 me up in the 🍑 Hathor: got my own things I'm busy with Sekhmet: love is magic 💖 Sekhmet: don't be complaining in my inbox when I'm tragically single Hathor: I've been serving and swerving him for long enough I thought I'd succeeded, there's the complaint Sekhmet: 🙄 you can't ❌ feelings bitch Hathor: white boys are a different animal, I ❌ the fear of Sekhmet: 😍😍😍 Hathor: I'm not here to be treated like a 👸🏽 if that's one step away from being called 'exotic' Hathor: there's nothing sexy about a power imbalance Sekhmet: most girls would disagree, babe Sekhmet: why do you wanna be run of the mill every day when we been #blessed with this 🔥 Sekhmet: all black guys wanna chat about is my light-skin privilege and their black man struggles, I can't 🥱 Hathor: fetishization like that ain't foreplay I'm interested in Hathor: 👑 me for other reasons than my melanin Sekhmet: insecurities SNAPPED, I'm sure he likes you for more than your skin, you crazy Hathor: he likes me for how I pour measures rn Sekhmet: racial Sekhmet: that's why everyone likes you 💃💃💃 Hathor: on account of being a poor student not Northern Irish, don't be biting the hand that feeds your blackouts Sekhmet: my white boys always pay Hathor: #blessed innit Sekhmet: 👸😇 tings Hathor: which white boy you with ignoring your deadline then? Sekhmet: whoever it is they've gone to work Sekhmet: but they left a 💳 with their cute note so I know I'm in a good postcode still 🙏 Hathor: so come meet me and spare mine, that's the right thing to do Sekhmet: just 'cos it's good doesn't mean I'm not lost still, damn Sekhmet: hold on and let me get dressed and get my bearings Hathor: if your phone ain't drained I can use it to get your bearings while you serve a look Sekhmet: who doesn't have a charger in their hoe 👜 PLEASE Hathor: you didn't know what day it was, can't blame me for 👶🏽ing Sekhmet: where would I be without you 😘 Sekhmet: mum hasn't phoned me in ages actually, it's so rude Sekhmet: I missed the last few but still Hathor: I hit her with your highlights, creatively Hathor: like how I won't mention a white boy making me feel like a baby 🐮 that can't walk Sekhmet: 😶😶 Sekhmet: dad would 😥 Hathor: and she'll 🙌🏽 harder than you've done Sekhmet: facts are facts Sekhmet: look at her dad, Vee's... Hathor: cliches are tired and stereotypes are damaging Sekhmet: @ your white boy with the 👋 then booboo Sekhmet: I think dad's in town working today, you wanna come for dinner with us? 🥂 Hathor: he's not mine to command in or out 👅 Hathor: yeah 🍾 will help Sekhmet: I'll teach you Hathor: those twin stereotypes are damaging too, like Sekhmet: oh hush, I only tried to 💋 you ONE time and we were like babies and that boy was the first great love of my life Sekhmet: anyway, you're like hot but not my types type these days, you know Hathor: that boy was trash Hathor: you levelled up fast though Sekhmet: awh, don't be rude, I have fond memories Hathor: I have loads of him trying to ask me out at the same time Sekhmet: oh yeah Sekhmet: I forgot that happened Sekhmet: his hair was gorgeous though Hathor: it was Sekhmet: good times Sekhmet: my new guy, not this one, the actual one, looks like old school Leo, I SWEAR Hathor: Yeah? Sekhmet: like Leo and a bit of River and Ryan Philippe in Cruel Intentions Sekhmet: 🥰🥰🥰 Hathor: love of your life material Sekhmet: definitely Sekhmet: he's a trader in the city and his apartment is 😱😱😱 Hathor: what's the age range this time? Sekhmet: he's only 26, it's mad how successful he is already Hathor: he sounds like the full 🎟 Hathor: any catch? Sekhmet: only technically Hathor: technically he's a 🤖? Sekhmet: ha, he totally has the stamina of one Sekhmet: he can keep up with me, almost 😉 Hathor: 👌🏽 he's perfect Hathor: fucking hell Sekhmet: no need to be jealous when you're 🥰 yourself Sekhmet: what does he look like? Hathor: Tall enough Hathor: more like a 🥊 than a 👼🏻 Sekhmet: you really do wanna do great grandpa Sekhmet: jk, he sounds so you Hathor: he does work for the main brewery that supplies us, maybe I do Hathor: Jesus Christ Sekhmet: 😂😬 processing that Sekhmet: not really though, every boy I've ever dated has been like dad, it's unavoidable tbh 💁 Hathor: in our postcode nobody's trying very hard to be anything else Hathor: 💰💳💎🍾 Sekhmet: why would they? Hathor: they wouldn't and they aren't, it'd be terrifying for any of those boys to step out Sekhmet: 🙄 you aren't going to throw yourself down a ladder when you're at the top, babe Hathor: wouldn't kill them to give other people a hand up though, they just act like it Sekhmet: 🥱 when's your deadline? Hathor: my work's done Sekhmet: then button it, loser Sekhmet: you wanna eat out on this nice rich boy's 💳 Hathor: ETA of 15 on getting to you Hathor: you best 🚿 Sekhmet: way ahead of you 🛀 Sekhmet: door's unlocked, our breakfast will hopefully be on the table when you get here Sekhmet: love ubereats Hathor: 🙌🏽 Sekhmet: you can bring it through, the view in this bathroom is immense Sekhmet: thought getting the driver to bring it to the tub was unlikely Hathor: he probably would but it's unlikely I'd recover from walking in on it Sekhmet: 😘 Sekhmet: do fuck with an asian boy Hathor: you don't know he will be Hathor: might not even be a lad Hathor: but if it is, guarantee they'll send the most unexpected one Sekhmet: it usually is, your stereotypes be damned Hathor: what are you gonna bet? Sekhmet: the Belgian 🧇s Hathor: you're on Sekhmet: sometimes you shock me with how green you are, Hath Hathor: back to putting disrespect on me, what a nice truce while it lasted, like Sekhmet: I mean, you know I can see the driver on my app, babe Sekhmet: no points for guessing where Hassan is from Sekhmet: you can have the 🧇s anyway Hathor: you know I can read your thoughts, the playing field is level Hathor: and anyway I like green, that's my boy's eye colour Sekhmet: been gazing into them longingly across the bar have we🤭 Hathor: maybe Sekhmet: so cute Sekhmet: hope this one doesn't have a fiancee Sekhmet: or a maid who thinks we've broken in Hathor: if he does he better break that eye contact with me Sekhmet: I meant Mr Black Card, don't worry Sekhmet: he's a student, yeah? he won't be Hathor: he's only got a year on us, I don't predict an engagement Sekhmet: yeah, doubt it Hathor: outside of our family people aren't usually that extra Sekhmet: some of the asian internationals are but they usually cheat if their intended ain't here yet so Hathor: Yeah Sekhmet: what even does an engagement mean anyway Sekhmet: not much, right Hathor: a flash 💍 Hathor: what's my course teaching me if I don't know the statistics on how often a wedding follows? Hathor: shows how outdated it is Sekhmet: he gives me that anyway Hathor: I'd take a phone number and be happy with it for now Hathor: but it's probably the party and that whole flex too, right? Sekhmet: the dress Sekhmet: but it's irrelevant if it doesn't happen, like you said Hathor: 🎁🎁 even if it doesn't if people bring them for the engagement as well, but you're not going short of any Sekhmet: right Sekhmet: 😥 if you need a wedding for attention Hathor: Jay's birth mum QUAKING Sekhmet: omg I bet that's EXACTLY what his fiancee is like Hathor: does he ever speak about her? Sekhmet: obviously not Sekhmet: but she must never come up from wherever they're from because I'm like ALWAYS over so Hathor: maybe she doesn't know about this place Hathor: old school Sekhmet: Who knows Sekhmet: can't be my problem Hathor: Yours is the day you've missed, like Hathor: what's the assignment? Sekhmet: design some sportswear line Sekhmet: got to get the sketches in by 5, but all I ordered for me was a shit ton of coffee, it'll be fine Hathor: more productive if I stay or go? Sekhmet: you've already missed your date, you may as well stay Hathor: okay Hathor: am the sportier one Sekhmet: how are you 😂 Hathor: ⚽⛹🏽🚴🏽🥊 Hathor: why dad loves me more than you Sekhmet: now I know you're talking nonsense 😏 Hathor: True, he loves Vee and she never gets off her chaise Sekhmet: and she doesn't even love him back Hathor: poor dad Sekhmet: yeah Hathor: what time's dinner with him? Sekhmet: I'll ask him when he wants to go Hathor: about to come up, so whatever you were planning for Hassan, this is me Sekhmet: regrettably noted

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softspokentulip · 5 years

Text

circadian darling

chae hyungwon x gender neutral!reader

fluff, speckles of angst; “soulmate au where soulmate marks can manifest in various ways: from first words to flower blooms, anything can guide you to your soulmate - the only other person in the world whose mark matches your own perfectly. these marks can be clear as day, or they can be much more subtle.

however, in rare cases, where the mark might be too subtle, it is possible to have two kinds of marks, one of which manifests later in life. this is generally seen in cases where one type of mark isn’t enough to find your soulmate.

you are one such case. (you just don’t know it.)”

word count: 7926

It is… 3:24 AM.

You never intend to pull all-nighters. Some nights it’s harder to ignore the feeling of wakefulness than others. Like tonight, which finds your body exhausted from a long day, your eyes struggling to keep open, but your mind unable to just shut up.

This is how it’s been your entire life. You’ve long since given up on finding ways to make yourself fall asleep: that one trick people swear up and down works like a charm has, at most, made you yawn. You’ve had enough warm milk and soothing teas to last you a lifetime. Playlist after playlist of calming music, rain audio, and even hypnosis videos do nothing for you. On nights like these, it’s easier (and less stressful) to wait for dawn, go about your daily business, and take a nap if you can while the sun watches over you.

And you hate it.

You hate that falling into bed is a gamble every night of whether you’ll get some rest. You hate the fatigue that haunts you most days; you hate the sympathy from friends, family, and strangers alike. They already pity you enough when they find out you’re markless - can’t you get a break from being poor (y/n)?

3:26 AM glows bright red against your skin.

Evidently not.

A paper cup is set down in front of your face. “Rough night again?”

You lift your head from where it rests atop your arms, tired gaze rising to settle on a familiar - sympathetic - face. Instead of answering, you grab the cup and bring it to your lips. The bitterness burns your tongue, jolting you alert. Nyx cringes from where she stands beside the table, as if she’d taken the sip herself. “Jesus, how do you drink that crap?”

A chuckle bubbles out of you, sounds as resigned as you feel. “It wakes me up fast.”

“You know, with creamer wakes you up just as quickly. Though, I guess the taste probably helps.” She nods to herself as you take another swig, the taste less shocking with each swallow. “Well, it’s your taste buds anyway, not mine.”

You place the half-drained cup back down in front of you, and she looks like she wants to say something. “It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” you interrupt. “The first sip is the worst. Shouldn’t you be working?” Sure enough, glancing towards the counter grants you the sight of one of her coworkers impatiently watching your table. They look about ready to drag her back. She must follow your gaze because you hear her swear under her breath before brushing off her apron.

“Right. Just, before I forget-” she rests a hand on your shoulder, and the ink sheep on her wrist blinks its eyes at you. You distantly observe that its outline is a lighter shade of black than usual. Huh. “Are you gonna be okay for the concert? If you end up feeling too tired that day, we don’t have to go.” The sheep’s head droops at her words, and a quick peek at her expression shows a hint of resignation. And you’re not a fool; you can take a hint.

So you smile and shake your head. “I’ll be fine. You’ve been looking forward to seeing Monsta X for months. I can handle being a little drowsy.”

Nyx doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but the coworker from before calls out her name and she takes a step back. “Alright. But please, if it gets worse, go see a doctor!” Her shout draws a few curious eyes, and you can see the red on her cheeks even from here. You roll your eyes, but hold your thumb up nonetheless. She smiles, satisfied, before turning and rushing behind the counter.

You smile to yourself, too. You’re happy knowing she’ll be meeting her soulmate soon.

Then your attention returns to your coffee and you frown.

The things you have to do just to stay awake.

The young child, whose scraped knee has been long forgotten, stares at you with wide eyes, equal parts curious and nervous. “Um,” his voice comes out small, but you’ve grown used to it by now. “I’m sorry you don’t have a soulmate.”

And who said kids can’t be cruel? Still, you know his heart is in a good place - plus older people have said about the same much crueler. The sting to your heart is laughably ignorable. “It’s okay, Charlie. I don’t mind it. I can focus on myself, and it’s not as if I can’t be loved. I have my friends and my family, right?.” You swipe the alcohol pad across the bleeding scrape and immediately blow cool against it when he whines.

“Mhm.” He responds, though he keeps staring at your hands. With a fond smile, you show him a selection of band-aids and happily apply the Hello Kitty one he chooses over his knees. Charlie finally starts again when you gesture that he’s good as new, and that he can go rejoin his friends. “Can I draw on you? Maybe your soulmate is lost and needs help finding you!”

That makes your heart ache. Kid, I’ve tried that all my life. But he’s only six years old, he doesn’t understand that this is final yet, so you smile instead. “Of course. Let’s go find a marker.”

Your voice echoes hollow, but he doesn’t seem to notice past his glee.

It is 6:15 PM when something.. wet? scrawls across the skin of your left forearm.

The wind from your car’s air conditioner rolls over whatever it is, cooling it as soon as it drags across you, and, rightfully alarmed, you let out a confused hm and turn away from your phone call to inspect it.

And you swear your heart stops beating.

“What is it?” Nyx’s voice reaches through the static, but you don’t hear her.

Because, just inches from the smiling red heart Charlie had drawn on your palm earlier today, in bold black ink and unfamiliar handwriting, - and an entirely different language - is something you definitely did not write.

안녕하세요?

“(y/n)? Everything alright?”

Oh fuck that feels weird, the ink starts shifting on its own; the letters reshaping themselves, and the closest you can describe the sensation is the feeling of fingertips trailing along your arms so gently, as if in awe of you. And when the feeling subsides, when the new letters settle against your skin, your mind draws a blank.

Hello?

“I,” you struggle to be clear and concise, to talk in something louder than a whisper. You can hardly hear yourself, you doubt Nyx can. “I’m coming over.”

“Now?!”

“Now.”

If you flinched even the smallest bit, you could smack her in the forehead with how close Nyx is holding your arm to her face.

(And the only reason the temptation isn’t there is because you’re preoccupied wondering what the hell is going on.)

Her eyes are so wide, you would worry about them rolling right out of her head if you weren’t just as wide-eyed, fighting back years’ worth of pent-up tears threatening to make an appearance.

“Why do I recognise this?” She mumbles.

“I did not write this my-”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” She hurries to elaborate, looking up at you with teary eyes of her own. Her grip tightens around your wrist and elbow, and she gives your arm a small shake. “I believe you, (y/n). But this - this is fucking weird. Why did your soul mark develop now, instead of all those years ago? How? I don’t.. This doesn’t make any sense.” The uncertainty in her voice clenches your heart until it feels like it’ll shatter apart. You pull your arm free from her grip and hold it against your chest, as if cradling the mark.

“I don’t know either! If you haven’t noticed, neither of us is majoring in soul studies!”

Nyx deflates at your frustration, sheepishness clear in the tremble of her lips. You take a deep breath, a moment to wipe at your still unshed tears, and the dark letters catch your attention. It’s almost funny, how a single word could turn your world upside down. With a shuddering sigh, you bring your arm to your lips and kiss the message. It tastes of hope. “Please be real,” you whisper, voice muffled against the ink.

Your friend hops to her feet abruptly, quickly stealing your attention back. There’s an excited fire in her eyes. “We have to go see a soul mark analyser! They’ll probably know what’s going on, right?” A chill settles in your bones, old and too familiar. You remember all too well your last experience with an analyser - which had started just as everyone else’s but ended with no good news, with none of the comforts you had been promised. You still remember the way your mother had wept as she cradled you, but you don’t know if she’d been trying to protect you or herself from the truth. You remember the unique and mortifying experience of giving your good friend the news in class the next day, how she hadn’t quite understood the first time, just like you hadn’t.

Your discomfort must be obvious, or maybe Nyx knows you well, because she takes your hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. “We don’t have to go.” But you should. “I won’t let you go alone, but we don’t have to go at all.” You should.

A hush falls over the room as she waits for your answer. For a few seconds, you seriously consider declining. You don’t want to get your hopes up only for a soulmate - your soulmate - to be ripped away from you again. It had been easier to come to terms with it because your hopes had been crushed so young, you could spend your developing years accepting it. If it happens again, will the pain be too fresh to heal from?

But then you look back at your mark, at the questioning greeting on your arm, and you remember the ghost of a lover’s touch, the tingling warmth that had started small but wasted no time encompassing your entire being. Your heart leaps, soars through cloud nine and all the other clouds around it, and you have to make sure this is real.

“We’ll go.”

It is 1:43 AM, as you scroll through stories on your phone, that you realize you never tried to respond.

How easily you forget the fatigue weighing you down. Careful not to make too much noise, you slip out of bed and find your way through the dark to Nyx’s writing desk, grabbing a pen before creeping out of her room.

You sit down in the hallway, right beside the bedroom door, and pull the cap off. You don’t let yourself think long, fully aware that you’ll fill yourself with doubt if you do.

Hello? Are you really there?

And you wait. You’d forgotten your phone inside, and you don’t want to risk waking her by going to get it, so you sit in silence, staring at the wall across from you. What’s a few minutes alone with your thoughts?

It feels like centuries crawling along, too slow. You almost want to cry; were you wrong? Did you truly not have a soulmate and had just gotten your hopes up? You’d heard stories of people exhibiting false soul marks, usually caused by a soul unable to accept the loss of their soulmate. Could the same happen to those who never had soulmates to begin with? Was your heart aching so deeply for a soulmate, even now? You thought you’d long since accepted the fact, so why was this happening to you?

Did you accept that? Yes, you’d brushed it aside, buried it, lived with it since you were eight years old. And of course you were devastated during your adolescent years, but you’d persevered. You were stronger now, weren’t you?

Another moment’s silence with no response saw you sighing as you rubbed the corners of your eyes and told yourself it was because of drowsiness. You were about ready to retreat to bed to force yourself to sleep, but then you felt it. The faint touch of a pen tip - not your own - pressing your skin. Without another thought, you focused on the new ink slowly drawing itself out on your arm. Syllables formed words you didn’t recognize, and once the writing stopped, they began to trace into new letters, which formed words you did.

Finally. You kept me waiting, darling.

Tears suddenly burst forth, drip-dripping onto your arm, and the words smear the tiniest bit. You scramble to pat yourself dry, staining your pajama shirt in the process, before hurrying to respond.

You’re real. I can’t believe you’re real. And you kiss your words, hoping they can somehow feel your lips.

A much shorter wait before new words bloom, feeling like a gentle brush of another’s lips. Of course I’m real. Why are you crying?

They’re happy tears. I didn’t think I had a soulmate. You take a deep breath. I think my soul missed you, even though I didn’t know you.

Three taps appear as miniscule dots on your skin, and you can’t help but laugh and wonder what they look like when they’re thinking.

I’ve always been here.

And I missed you too.

Exactly seven days later finds Nyx driving you to the clinic of one Dr. Valerie Luneiros, a soul mark analyser that works a town over - and the only one in the area who could fit you into their schedule so soon. You weren’t driving - at Nyx’s insistence: “You should be as stress free as possible.” Which was honestly a nice sentiment, one you were sure you’d appreciate.

Except you couldn’t possibly be more stressed out.

You’d been chatting pretty steadily with your soulmate for a few days after that first night. It had been a lot of fun, learning more about each other, establishing a comfortable dynamic. On more than one occasion, after discovering that anything that could be used to find one another would erase itself from your arms, you’d playfully tried to find ways to circumvent that. Naturally, none of them worked, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. Being able to just talk and joke with someone in a way only you could was the most precious thing in this world to you.

(It should have worried you how quickly you’d grown attached, but again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind.)

But then, a few minutes after the clock struck 8 PM four days ago, you’d received a message: I’ll be away for a while. Good luck with the analysis.

And that had been the last response you’d gotten. At first, the silence wasn’t so bad. You still had a life to live, after all. Your days were too busy to feel impatient, and you spent your nights either resting fitfully or keeping your mind off the lack of messages with work and stories. When your patience had finally run out, during one night when you’d been unable to sleep and were uninterested in any of your usual distracting tasks, you’d written them a simple Hope everything is okay. And you would’ve been fine, even without a reply, but when it had promptly disappeared, anxiety lunged and wrapped around you like a serpent around its prey.

Was your soulmate all right? Were they safe? You tried not to worry too much, comforted yourself with the trust that they would explain their radio silence once they returned.

But four days is a lot of time to ruminate.

And on top of that, a soul analysis clinic was definitely the last place you ever wanted to set foot in. The scent of sterilization and marginally too-strong citrus was too fresh in your memory, made you nauseous at the mere thought. The first expression of pity ever directed at you was forever burned into your brain, a wound once covered now unveiled and festering. You could still feel the cracking of your little heart once you understood what you’d been told, once you understood why your mother was crying.

Thoughtlessly, you bring your fingertips to trail along your forearm, tracing the ghosts of letters long washed away.

The faint sensation of fingers stroking on the other side brought you calm for at least the rest of the car ride.

Dr. Luneiros’ clinic smells of hot chocolate.

And to give them more credit, Dr. Luneiros themself is incredibly patient throughout your very unhelpful and highly confused explanation of what’s going on. They nod calmly along, take down notes diligently, and offer you comforting smiles whenever you need to pause. And when they ask if you could go more in depth about your soul mark history, they make it clear you can say no. So despite the anxiety about being in a place like this, you’re grateful that Nyx suggested coming here in the first place.

But when they ask questions about your sleep schedule, - completely out of left field - you wonder for a moment if this is somehow an elaborate plan to get your possible insomnia problem checked out. Though when you glance Nyx’s way, ready to chew her out, she seems as confused as you feel. As you spill the details, - some of which has your friend gasping, like the time you’d spent three full days asleep - they jot down more notes and nod the more you share. They sort of resemble a bobblehead, actually!

Until they suddenly smile wide and let out an “I see,” When they set their pen down and rest their stare on you, there’s a shocking amount of joy in their eyes, the constellations on their right cheek pulsing a bright golden glow. “I know what’s going on.” They say so simply, as if those five words don’t knock you out of orbit and leave your mind struggling to wrap around the fact that this makes sense to someone.

“First of all, I’d like to apologize for the analyser that saw you when you were younger - and have a word with him. Every analyser knows no one is born without a soulmate. Though this kind of mark was discovered fairly recently, so I suppose I can understand how he missed the signs.” Dr. Luneiros stops themself from rambling on when they spot your confusion. “Right, anyway. (y/n), it’s not that you didn’t have a soulmate and now suddenly do. You’ve had one all your life; you just didn’t know how to look for them.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and settles, choking your voice when you finally manage to ask, “What?”

They nod, as if you’d said something to nod at. “As you know, soul marks can manifest in various forms, such as on your body, as physical objects, or even in your head.” And it’s your turn to nod, because you’ve known this since you could first remember anything. “Good. Well, they can also manifest so deeply within a person as an effect on one of their bodily functions.”

You’re connecting the dots - and Nyx must be too, because you see her through the corner of your eyes, staring at you with a gradually growing smile.

“It seems your soul mark is present in your circadian rhythm, and that you and your soulmate’s are currently unaligned. Which explains why your sleeping patterns are so irregular.”

Nyx lets out a cheer so loud and hugs you so tightly, you’d think it was her who the news was for. Still, you can’t dwell on it long because your stunned thoughts are screaming just as loudly. I’ve always had a soulmate. The realization fills your aching heart to the brim with relief, and you suddenly want nothing more than for your soulmate to be here with you already. You want to share this excitement with them, want to rejoice alongside them. Fuck, you want to see them in front of your own eyes, hold them with your own hands, kiss them until you run out of breath. Still, there is a lingering confusion that threatens to drown out your joy.

“If that’s the case, then how are we chatting back and forth now?” You hold up your now blank forearm. “I thought people could only have one soul mark.”

The analyser hums. “That’s usually true, yes. However, in special cases such as these, where the initial mark might be too difficult to follow, a second, clearer mark type manifests - generally an indeterminate but short amount of time before the soulmates are destined to meet.” They can barely finish getting the words out of their mouth before Nyx is screaming again and blurring your vision with how suddenly she shakes you.

“Does that mean (y/n) will meet their soulmate soon?!”

Oh, now you really feel lightheaded, and not just because of how much you’re being shaken.

Did you know we’re apparently destined to meet soon?

Washed away.

Is everything okay?

Washed away.

Please answer me.

Washed away.

You know I can see you erasing this, genius. Are you ignoring me?

Washed away after three minutes.

Are you not excited to meet me?

A short pause, before a dark cool line suddenly swipes along your forearm and washes away shortly after.

I am. My makeup artist is too - she wants to strangle you.

A response that draws a laugh out of you, tinged with relief and amusement.

Your makeup artist? Are you a model?

Something like that. You’ll know soon enough.

Oh, mysterious. It’s not illegal, is it? I don’t know how well that lifestyle would suit me.

Please stop writing on Mr. Hyungwon’s arm. You are making my job very difficult.

It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, but you don’t blink. You see fragments of what must be a name - their name - and rush to copy what you remember down on a nearby piece of paper. Maybe anything revealing would erase itself, but as you stare down at the name you’d written, you figure that if you remember it yourself, then it should be fine.

And you do remember parts of it. And it looks.. almost familiar.

When you go to write on your arm again, you see your previous conversation has been washed away. Hyuwon? Your question erases itself a second later.

Don’t make me laugh, darling, I’m supposed to sit still.

But close.

With each day that the concert crawls ever closer, sleep finds you easier than the night before. You feel better rested than you ever have. Your taste buds suffer less and less scalding black coffee, and you find yourself more attentive at your work - and throughout the rest of your daily tasks. Five days before the concert, when your outfit finally arrives (talk about a close call) and Nyx insists on coming over to see you model it, she’d sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hands, eyes glimmering with sudden tears, when she’d finally seen you since letting herself in. “I’ve never seen you so awake before!” she’d cried.

(Followed by: “And the outfit looks so good on you! You’re gonna turn so many heads, but none of them are gonna be able to do anything about it!”)

The universe, as it turns out, can be as blatantly obvious as it can be painstakingly subtle. Your soulmate is closer to you than ever before, and the likelihood of you meeting them the day of the concert is high. They must be attending from a different country - South Korea, if you had to guess. After all, you’ve determined that Korean is the language your soulmate is originally writing in before the mark translates it.

And you feel a kind of excitement you haven’t felt in years, a rush of butterflies sweeping through your ribcage, wings beating harshly enough to crack bones. You swear your heart swells in size when you so much as think about your soulmate, drumming in harmony with the butterfly wings. It feels like your body has purged itself of a suffocating decay you didn’t know had taken hold, and you’re finally breathing through uncorrupted lungs for the first time. Flames eat away at thorns overgrown but make no moves to burn you, leaving a trail of soft kisses in its wake instead.

It is… so fucking cheesy.

But you can’t find a single part of you that minds. You think this must be what love is, and you hope your soulmate feels it too.

It is, without a doubt, the most expensive hotel lobby you’ve ever been in.

“And you’re certain this is the right place?”

“I’m sure. I’m - he said it would be fancy, but.. God, I feel like we should’ve brought a present.” She rubs over the mark on her wrist, a nervous habit formed years ago, and it brings your attention to two things: one, the sheep is no longer a sheep, but a wolf almost done shedding its disguise, and two, the outline is now almost a stark white. The imagery is.. definitely concerning, but you figure the universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to deem people soulmates that would hurt each other. That doesn’t sit right, and soulmate or not, if the person on the other side of Nyx’s connection even thinks about trying anything, you’re not afraid of setting them and the universe straight.

Anyway, you shift your focus to gauging her reaction. She seems seconds away from exploding, but the fuse is lit with both awe and insecurity, so you’re unsure which will set her off first. “We’re fine, Nyx. Let’s just find our room, okay?” When she nods, you head towards the grand staircase in the center of the room, your bags having been taken care of by an actual bellhop. You can’t help but awe at the chandelier casting an elegant golden light, shadows dancing in the corners of the lobby and adjacent halls. Carefully polished marble floor peeks out from the edges of the intricately patterned scarlet carpet, like you’re a movie star attending a high class debut. You absolutely don’t want to find out how much it costs to stay for the two days and nights her friend had paid for. Nyx had insisted it’d be all right to share, apparently, which led you to believe he’d been willing to pay that time for two rooms. “I couldn’t dream of affording this, holy shit.”

“Please don’t remind me,” she almost whimpered. “I might throw up on all this rich stuff, and then we’d really be in trouble.” Her thumb traced over her mark, and the wolf followed her touch. “I’ll talk to him once we get to our room.”

“Right. Let’s just focus on getting situated.”

That night, at about 10:15 PM, despite how tired you are (and the refreshing lack of underlying wakefulness), you manage to write to them.

So.

So?

I think we’re going to meet tomorrow.

Is there something special about tomorrow?

Kind of. And I have an idea I need to fly by you.

I’m listening, darling.

I want to draw something on my cheek. Something only we would understand.

Interesting. And I assume you want to keep it on all day? Meaning that so will I.

Right. Are you in?

Definitely. I’ll find you tomorrow.

Not if I find you first ♥

Shit, that sounded creepy.

Just a little hahaha

Nyx won’t stop inspecting your face, and it’s honestly making you feel more unsure about the whole idea than you’d like to be.

“Why did you write that?”

You hum, trying to appear calmer than you feel. “For fun.” A silence stretches between you - and glancing at her through the reflection shows you her furrowed eyebrows and small pout. “What, you’ve made worse jokes.” Her response is an instant huff as she crossed her arms over her chest, and there’s a huge visual contrast between her all-dark and mature outfit and the bratty puff of her cheeks. The urge to pinch those cheeks grows, but you doubt she’d appreciate that, so you stay your hand.

“Whatever, my jokes are great.” There’s a playful whine in her voice, and you know she’s not taking the conversation seriously. “Now come on, we have to get there soon if we want to check out the merch! Oh, and to see if there’s any fun little events they have planned!” Her “sour mood” brightens in seconds, and she’s rushing to make sure everything is ready to go. Your gaze returns to your reflection, the fondness in your eyes when you stare at your handiwork not alarming you as much as it would’ve a few weeks ago. Carefully written out in black face paint, you have your way to identify your soulmate.

Hyuwon.

On the drive to the concert hall, words slowly form on your arm that brings laughter to your lips.

I should’ve expected this. You’re ridiculous, darling.

I can’t wait to tell you in person.

That I’m ridiculous? How kind of you.

That I love you.

Hours later, maybe a minute or two after it hits 6 PM, and you’re contemplating what sort of soft pretzel to buy, a drop dead gorgeous concertgoer catches your attention by extending a handkerchief towards you. Confused, you inspect the soft fabric before taking it. “Thanks?” You wonder as you start to pocket it, but they stop you with a laugh and a shake of their head.

“Your makeup’s running a little bit.” To emphasize their point, they tap their cheek.

“My makeup?” Your free hand instinctively imitates their gesture, but nothing stains your fingertips. “What do you-” and it clicks so suddenly, your breath hitches mid-sentence. The Monbebe’s expression flashes bewilderment and your heart plummets, falling so abruptly that you can’t catch it. You shove the handkerchief back into their hands and sprint to the nearest bathroom, forgetting about how long you’d had to wait to be so close to the front of the line. You barely get out an excuse me before you’re gripping the edges of a sink and gazing at your own reflection in one of the many mirrors.

Just in time to see the final letters of what had once been there vanishing.

Ten minutes before the concert starts, as you sit surrounded by the overwhelming energy of hundreds of people, something cold presses your arm.

I’m sorry.

Six minutes later, you bring yourself to respond.

I guess I was wrong.

Two more minutes and your arm is wiped clean. Nyx cheers happily beside you, and you smile when she looks your way.

We aren’t going to meet today.

The lights dim before you can see if your words are gone.

Nyx says something you don’t hear over the screams and music.

“What?” You call, unable to even hear your own voice, and she points towards the stage. Sure enough, when you look back, all of Monsta X is up there, each of them dancing incredibly, and you lose yourself in awe for a moment. One of the taller members radiates such effortless grace, even when he sings, and you can’t drag your attention away from him. His gaze sweeps over your area, almost as if he could sense your own stare, and he makes eye contact for a second. It somehow feels longer, and there’s a calm that falls over you as you smile back at him, waving without a second thought. He must get embarrassed, because you barely see his (indescribably adorable) smile before he’s turning his head away - and then the choreography carries him to the other side of the stage, and you’re reminded that Nyx had been trying to say something.

When you shift your focus back to her, she’s leaning much closer and gesturing between her arm and the member who’d just looked at you - you think. You glance at her arm, and through the strobe lights, you see the wolf on her wrist has rid itself entirely of its sheep costume and is now completely white, with colors seeping into the inner edges of its shape. It wags its tail and seems to bark towards the stage. “Holy shit, Nyx!”

It seems that wasn’t what she was trying to point out, because you see more than hear her groan as she briefly checks her arm. Then she stops before she can look back up - no screaming, no jumping around, no frustration at your not being able to hear her. Nothing. “Nyx?” You brace yourself to catch her just in case, but she stands still, unwavering, gaze slowly lifting to the stage.

The song ends, and as you move to follow her line of sight, you see one member - not the one from before - looking back this way before the lights fade out.

After the concert ends, the world comes crashing down as you wait to get out of the parking lot.

You’re stuck waiting in a too-long line of other cars all trying to get out too, humming the last performed song under your breath and thinking about the man you’d waved at. As much as you tried not to focus solely on him for the rest of the concert, you’d found your gaze repeatedly drawn to him. There was just something that clicked in your head when you watched him, a serenity you’d never felt before (and one you hadn’t expected to feel at a concert, of all places). And more than once, you’d caught him stealing glances towards your side of the stage, though you hadn’t made eye contact again.

Nyx hiccups, and it draws you out of your thoughts. You don’t need to look at her to know she’s all cried out. “How am I ever going to meet him?” She whispers, more to herself than for you, and your heart stills.

The disappointment from earlier rears its head. You’d really been hoping to find your soulmate today. They’d agreed to go along with your idea - hell, they’d loved it, if their reaction was anything to go by. So why didn’t they follow through? Had they gotten cold feet? Did they not feel ready to meet yet?

As you waited, moving your car along inch by agonizing inch, the disappointment slowly gave way to heavy-hearted understanding. A part of you had been anxious at the mere thought of meeting them all day, and though no part of you felt relieved when the word vanished, you were starting to rationalize: maybe it was better this way. Maybe you both just needed more time to get to know each other. Maybe it would be better to decide when you would meet, to discuss and have time to prepare for it. It wouldn’t be so bad, you reasoned, waiting a little longer. You’d been “soulmate-less” most of your life - what was waiting to meet them a few more days, weeks, months?

(Not years. Years would be too much to handle.)

(You’d really miss being able to sleep easily, though.)

“What is meant to be, will be.”

In the passenger seat, Nyx sighs. “Right.”

Right.

It takes thirty minutes to finally reach the hotel, despite what had been a mere five minute drive this morning. Leaving a concert was a nightmare, you decided.

“My legs ache.” She croaked as she tried to massage her thigh.

The image of her jumping excitedly about during the concert makes you chuckle. “Would you look at that, if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

Her eyes are almost entirely shut when she glares at you, and you know she’s nursing a headache. “Shush. Carry me?” As she asks, she lifts her arms towards you as if you’d already agreed.

“No way,” you shoot her down, even though you crouch in front of her. A small cheerful noise comes out of her as she rests against your back, and you grab her thighs as she wraps her legs around your waist. Once she’s situated, you stand back up and start carefully climbing the pompous grand staircase (you hadn’t been able to find the damn elevator). The bag she holds swings back and forth at the movement, and you lift your chin to avoid getting smacked. “We have Tylenol in our room, take it once we get there.”

“Thank you!”

You regret the decision to carry her up all the stairs to reach the floor of your room.

Nyx’s voice is muffled from where you lay with your face pressed into your pillow. “I’m so sorry. I really thought you were gonna put me down at some point.” You raise your head when she presses something cold to your hand and you say a small thank you before taking the water bottle she offers. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

You drink until there’s a slight discomfort in your stomach, then you set the bottle aside and push yourself to sit up. You need to get yourself cleaned up. “I’m fine, just tired. I’m gonna go take a shower, then I’ll probably pass out or something.” You gather your pajamas and make your way towards the bathroom, and pause. With a glance back at her, you see her staring down at her mark, a colorful wolf sleepily curled around her wrist. “You’re meeting your online friend soon, aren’t you?”

She perks up, her gaze lifting to settle on you. “Yeah! He’s exhausted and I am too, and since we’re here for two days, we agreed to meet tomorrow.”

As you close the bathroom door behind you, you hear a knock at the door.

Thankfully, you had a mind to get dressed in the bathroom, because when you step out, there’s a stranger casually conversing with Nyx.

“Hello?” You wave your hand to catch their attention, and when they look at you, they both quickly erupt into shit-eating grins. That’s an expression you know means mischief, so you prepare to slip back into the bathroom and pretend to never have come out, but Nyx is jumping to her feet and hurrying to grab your hands before you do.

“(y/n), this is my soulmate!”

Suspicion melts away, and you smile at the two of them. “Whoa, congratulations! How did -” Getting another look at him, you realize it really is a member of Monsta X. No wonder she wasn’t sure if she’d meet them. “How did he find you?”

She turns to look at him over her shoulder, and even though you can’t see her expression, you just know that it’s full of love. He smiles back at her so softly, like he’s been doing it all his life, and as happy as you are for them, you can’t help but feel like an intruder.

You’re glad to see her so happy, really, you are.

But if you have to spend one more minute in a room with these two when the sting of not having met your own soulmate is still too fresh, you’re gonna burst.

“You don’t have to go, really.” The apology is clear on her face. Behind her, her soulmate - Changkyun, he’d introduced himself - glanced between you and his phone, typing something you vaguely suspect may be about you. You’d asked earlier if there was something on your cheek, since he kept glancing at it, but he’d shaken his head and smiled at Nyx, as if there was a joke you weren’t in on. “Please don’t go just sit next to the vending machine. I feel terrible.”

“You don’t have to,” Changkyun pipes up, setting his phone down on his lap and focusing on you two. “I have a friend who wouldn’t mind you hanging out in his room.”

“Maybe not, but I won’t intrude on a stranger. Besides, I can think of a lot of people who would mind me hanging out with someone from Monsta X so casually.” At that, he snickers, conceding you the point. “I’ll be okay, really. There are some seats and tables set up near the vending machine. I’m not gonna be sitting on the floor. You two have fun, yeah?” You turn to head down the hall - and stop. “Well, not too much fun, please, I have to sleep he-”

The door slams shut, but you can still hear Changkyun’s laughter, muffled as it is.

At 11:59 PM exactly, as you’re watching the decent quality videos you’d taken earlier, the familiar sensation of new ink writing itself out on your arm steals your attention. The words translate faster than ever.

I told you I’d find you today.

You can’t help the scoff that slips out, but while you’re reaching for your own pen, the most melodic laugh to ever grace your ears sounds off from in front of you and your breath catches in your throat. Footsteps slowly approach you, whoever it is (you know who it is) stops just as their legs come into your field of vision. When they crouch, you still can’t quite see their face, but you recognize the outfit (you know who this is). A hand grabs your own, their long fingers tracing shapes over your skin, reaching up until they touch the words (their words - and it feels just like the ink reshaping itself, but so much better because it’s real). You let out a shaky sigh when their other hand gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You can look at me.” A soothing voice whispers, as if they’re as in awe of you as you are of them, and like the sailor allured by the siren, you happily obey.

The first thing you focus on is the fondness swimming deep in his dark brown eyes, and it takes a moment for you to register: that fondness is for you. His lips, plush and pink and oh so kissable are drawn into a soft smile, his head tilted slightly as he tries to get a better look at you. The hair that falls over his eyes is beautiful and so fluffy, you wonder how it would feel to run your hands through it (and pretend not to get flustered at your own train of thought). His touch spreads warmth throughout your body, your heart beating so much faster than is probably healthy, but you really don’t mind. On his own arm, you spot Korean words you’ve never written before, and yet you recognize it as your own handwriting.

He ducks his head a little more, gently coaxing you to look into his eyes again - and holy shit, you recognize him. This is the man from the concert, the one who’d looked at you, the one with the adorable smile and the aura of natural grace.

And there’s that instant, easy tranquility falling over you again.

“I’m sorry.” The hand not holding yours strokes a knuckle over your cheek, the slight furrow of his brows regretful, and you understand what he means. (And you don’t like that almost melancholy look in his eyes.) A smile that mirrors his own tugs at your lips, and you shake your head slowly as you tentatively interlace yours and his fingers. A faint pink kisses his cheeks, and when he flickers his gaze up to lock with yours, you swear there are galaxies lost in his eyes.

Your heart falls again, but this time he’s there to catch it. “It’s okay,” he perks at the sound of his voice, and when his smile softens even more and he looks absolutely smitten, you wonder if that’s how you look, too. “Your makeup artist..?” He nods with a sigh of relief that brushes against your lips. Your cheek grows warmer, which you just know he can feel beneath his hand. (Sure enough, his little chuckle confirms your thoughts.)

His smile somehow grows fonder, and you know you’re in love.

“My name is Hyungwon. Not-” he interrupts himself with a quiet laugh that you lean forward to hear better, nearly pressing your foreheads together. “Hyuwon.”

Laughter comes as easily with him in front of you as it did when he was miles away. “Okay. My name is (y/n.)”

After heading back to his room (which he promised he’s not sharing, so it'd be just the two of you), you lose track of time from how much you guys talk, or just bask in the pure joy of having finally united. However, your body doesn’t.

You don’t expect the yawn that parts your lips, and he says something that sounds a bit like cute. “Tired?” At your nod, he hums before falling into curious silence. (Just as you expected, he looks breathtakingly cute when he’s thinking, his lips forming a small pout as he stares passed you.) Once he must find what he wants to say, he shifts away from the center of the bed and pulls the covers back, patting the mattress. “Sleep with me?”

The offer sincerely warms your heart, the butterflies beating harder against your ribs, and you have no chance to stop the wide smile that comes to your face as you stare at him. I love you so much already, your mind sighs. Your chest feels tight, your heart aches so sweetly, and you don’t mind any of it. The soft yellow of the lamp on his bedside table casts him in an angel’s glow, and not for the first time since you met him, you awe at his beauty. How lucky I am, you muse as you nod and carefully lay yourself down in the spot he’s left you, that you are my soulmate, Hyungwon.

Hyungwon’s posture stiffens a second before he relaxes. He leans over you to turn the lamp off, the trace scent of jasmine and home gently embracing you, and you close your eyes. The light clicks off, he shifts back into his place beside you, and a comfortable silence falls around you. For a few minutes, there’s hardly any movement or sound, just the soft hissing of the humidifier and your own breathing.

The feel of his hand wrapping around yours underneath the blankets startles you half to death. You turn to peer at him through the darkness - only to find he’s already staring at you, his lips quirking into a smile when you make eye contact. He pulls you closer by your joined hands until your faces are so close, your breaths intermingle between you, and then he brings your hand to his lips. The kiss he presses into your skin is delicate and loving, unbelievably so, and when his gaze flickers from your knuckles to your eyes, you nearly gasp at the raw affection you see in them.

“Goodnight, 자기야.”

Though the word sounds unfamiliar, it still warms your heart all the same. “Say that again.”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile turning amused. “자기야?”

“Ja - gi - yah?” You repeat slowly, looking at him to see if you’d said it right. He laughs under his breath, but it’s a fond noise. He props himself onto his elbow and reaches across from you again, grabbing a nearby pen and quickly scribbling it down on his arm. As expected, when you glance at your own arm, the word has written itself out - and rather quickly translated itself.

Darling.

Your heart just about melts. As you turn to stare at him again, he chooses that moment to lean down and press a kiss against your cheek. “Goodnight, 자기야.”

“Goodnight,” you breathe, almost stunned into silence when you meet his eyes.

I love you, they promise.

It’s the best sleep you’ve had in your life.

#monsta x scenarios #monsta x scenario #monsta x soulmate au #hyungwon #hyungwon/reader #this was a lot of fun to write - im an absolute sucker for soulmate aus 💕

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kakashisavakening · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1 - Across the Line

Shaking, unsure, fragile. She had to hold onto the door frame when she finally caught a glimpse of Kakashi. Or what remained of the once unabashed Jonin. He was not just mentally broken, but throughout. Sakura covered her mouth to mute the sobs wanting to escape her mouth. She gripped the frame so tightly, her fingertips turned white. The steady beeps of the machines in his room filled the air that was otherwise heavy with silence. Genma was sitting on a chair beside Kakashi's bed, eyes closed. On a table at the end of the bed, Tsunade's notes were scattered, an empty sake bottle tipped over on the right.

Genma slowly opened his eyes and stared at Sakura with a blank expression. There were dark circles under his eyes. It was obvious that he had been by Kakashi from the beginning.

"I thought I made myself clear." - Tsunade's voice filled the silence from behind Sakura. - "If all you do is cry, I have no use for you. Grow up or leave."

"B-but Tsunade-sama!" - Genma's eyes widened, his glance jumping from the Hokage to Sakura and then back. Sakura swallowed her tears, not once breaking her glance from her broken sensei. She wiped off whatever remained on her face and walked over to the lifeless body. Machines pumped the air into his lungs. He couldn't even properly breathe on his own. What a shame - Sakura thought - You have always been so strong, sensei. Always saved me, comforted me... - The image of the sensei grabbing Sasuke and Naruto as they plunged towards each other with the Rasengan and the Chidori in hand flashed before Sakura's eyes. How he smiled at her after the incident was over. And even now, his face was hidden from her. That damn machine.

"I do not need your lectures, Hokage-sama. I am here because you said I am needed. Because he needs me." - She said in a flat voice. Determination took over the shock, anger filled the cracks that the feeling of fragility had caused in her. In that moment, she didn't feel like she was helpless, or behind everybody else in team 7. She was herself. She was Sakura, the person who was needed by her sensei. Genma slowly leaned back into his chair.

"Good." - Tsunade said, and put a new bottle of sake on the table. - "We need to discuss some things. This procedure might not work. You need to know that."

"What are the chances it will work?" - Sakura asked

"I really don't know. If I absolutely had to give you a number, I would say about 26%, not more." - She said and pulled a chair to the desk, looking at the sketches and notes once again. - "But if you agree to this, you might die if he doesn't wake up."

"He risked his life more than once for me... I guess the least I can do is do the same." - Sakura responded and reached for her sensei's hand. His skin was cold to the touch, lacking the familiar warmth she hoped she would find. - "What is my mission, Tsunade-sama? What do I have to do to get him back?"

"You will need to make him remember. Right now, he is stuck in the past. He can't see what happened in the past 20 years of his life. Going in circles, facing Orochimaru and drifting through anbu missions. He doesn't know you exist, or that he was ever a sensei. You need to find him and remind him of who he is now." - Gai was leaning against the wall of the room. He quietly listened to the Fifth as she spoke. Sakura has never seen him this quiet or worried. His eyes were also dark with sleeplessness. He hasn't looked this bad since Lee was facing the operation a couple of years ago. - "But when I send you in, I don't know what will happen to you. If you die there, or if sending you in would even mean he will hear you. It is possible that you would be just a ghost watching him fade away... the reason why I assume so is that I was like that, but since I was conducting the jutsu, I could pull myself out. I won't know when to pull you out and I can only send in one person."

"So why did you chose me for this mission?" - Sakura finally lifted her gaze from Kakashi - "What makes you think I can make him remember?"

"Because he didn't know you until very recently. His subconscious will remember you, and maybe that will pull him through... when or if he wakes up, you will drift back as well." - Tsunade took out a roll of red yarn. - "Do you accept?"

"It was never a question." - Sakura's voice never wavered, even though her inner self was still in pieces, crying on the floor. Tsunade waved at the door and they pushed in another bed. She ordered Sakura to lay down and tied the yarn on her pinky, then the other end was tied to Kakashi's. Sakura turned her head towards him. I will do my best, Kakashi-sensei. I will find you and bring you back, damnit. Don't you die on me. She said. The Fifth was doing a series of hand signs, but she didn't pay attention. Her focus was on the slowly rising and falling chest of Kakashi. How it moved so different from when he was himself. You hear me, Kakashi-sensei? Tsunade finished the hand signs, and Sakura's vision began to blur. Don't you dare, damnit.

As her consciousness slowly drifted away, she reached her hand towards Kakashi's, interlocking their fingers. The three other people in the room quietly watched them for a moment before Tsunade stepped forward to check her vitals. Now, her life and her mind was bound to Kakashi. She won't wake up until he does. This jutsu was the fifth own invention from the Yamanaka body switching technique. It has not been fully tested, because there was nobody to test it on.

It was all up to Sakura now. There was nothing they could do from out here.

"Tsunade-sama..." - Genma sighed - "You are pretty cruel... sacrificing your own student like that. For a mission she cannot win."

"She might.." - She wanted to sound confident, but her tone fell flaccid. It didn't even sound convincing to her, let alone the two Jonins.

"We both know you didn't chose her for the fact that Kakashi only met her in recent years." - Gai added. - "You know how he feels. Are you really going to punish him for finally caring again? After all these years.. he finally cares about someone, and on his death bed you send that person after him?"

"Call it whatever you want, but all I want is for my Copy Ninja to wake up and get better. This isn't the time when I can afford to lose such a valuable asset." - Tsunade checked Sakura's pulse. Despite her words, she was worried for her student. She loved Sakura like a daughter she never had and watching her in such a helpless felt like a tight grip on her heart.

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Sakura woke up not far from the memorial statue, that stood for the fallen shinobi who lost their lives during missions. Front of the statue a man stood, a cat shaped anbu mask covering his face. He might as well have been a statue for he stood so motionless as she observed him.

A mess of silver hair on top of his head, hips bit forward as he leaned a bit back as if leaning against a wall. Something about him was so familiar. Was that Kakashi?

No, it cannot be him - she thought to herself. This boy was barely a couple years older than her, while Kakashi was at least 12 years her elder.

The boy looked up, and their eyes locked. He slowly reached for his mask and as he took it off, a face all too familiar became visible. IT WAS HIM. Well, a version of him. But those eyes weren't the ambitious, confident and caring ones she had remembered. These eyes were cold and empty. Sakura got to her feet and ran towards her sensei. She had called out to him, several times, but he didn't move a muscle. About an arm's length from the statue, she felt like she hit a wall.

Sakura got back up on her feet, and slowly walked closer with her arms stretched out to feel how far she can go. Her fingers eventually touched what he had previously oh-so-gracefully face planted. It was like the membrane of a soap bubble. It gleamed with similar rainbow patterns as well. Sakura looked at Kakashi again, with her hand on this strange thing that separated them. For a second, he moved towards her, but then his hand stopped midair. He shook his head, put the mask back on and began to walk away.

"Kakashi sensei! Come back!"- Sakura shouted. But it was pointless. Despite the fact that Kakashi did see her, he didn't hear her. All he saw was a ghost at the memorial, with a face familiar enough to believe that it must have been a life he had snuffed out. Someone, who has lost her life because of him. Like Rin did... or like Obito. He just didn't want to know any of it. There was already more than enough guilt piled up in his chest. It took every ounce of strength he had to suppress the pain.

Sakura gathered all the strength she could and punched the bubble-wall. She felt two of her knuckles crack. - "Please..." - She whispered. She knew that if Kakashi doesn't listen, and realise where they really are then he will die. And so will she.

After walking up and down by the wall, she came to the conclusion that this thing between them must be some kind of barrier to keep her out of Kakashi's mind... or to keep him out of hers. This was were he ended and she began. This line they couldn't.. or shouldn't cross. Ever since the sensei was assigned to team 7, she admired him wholeheartedly. Now that she saw what the inside of his mind was like, she couldn't help but wonder how he managed to keep this all in... this world where he was all alone, in constant rain and fog. Was this really how he felt all these years?

Sakura had always imagined that he would be a filthy pervert inside, considering all those porn - khm romance - books he read. She imagined that in his mind would be some twisted image of cute girls and something embarrassing, and that's why the sensei kept to himself so much. He never told them anything, so how was she to know that her sensei was in this depression?

She walked and walked until she reached the training grounds where he had put the team to the test for the first time. The middle column, where naruto was tied to was split in half by the barrier. A vision of the past began to play, as if it was cued. On her side, there was Naruto, struggling, trying to get out, while on the other side was a little boy she has never seen. On the ground, a small, silver haired kid sat with his legs crossed, reaching a bite of food for the one tied to the column. That is just like how it happened with us. She thought.

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All he could hope was that whatever this girl would bring wouldn't be too terrible.

She had walked up and down for a while, like a lioness in a cage, but then, with her finger tracing this anomaly she walked away. He couldn't help himself, and followed. He didn't want her to notice him, but was intrigued after he saw her punch something in the air. He saw her fist collide with something that sent ripples of light, dividing them with a vertical surface.

The ghost had arrived at the training grounds where Minato-sensei had tested them. Where his team mates were both alive. As always, the memory began to play, and he felt his heart tearing itself to shreds.

"What do you want from me?" - He said quietly. But the ghost just kept staring at Obito then a boy on her side. Their movements completely mirrored each other.

One memory was in fact his. But was the other hers?

#sakura #sakura haruno #kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakasaku #fanfiction #fanfic #story #lovestory #naruto #naruto fanfic #sasuke #anbu #jonin #chunin #genin #anbu kakashi #shinobi #ninja

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