#i have this small theory that their grandmother was the one woman

[folkorae]

I am also having so many Scarlett and Donatella thoughts as i read Caraval like haushaushuaha someone should write Caraval muses and Once Upon A Broken Heart muses with me!! 🥺

#❧ ⸻ jane speaks . #i know that i am late to read this series but!! #i have this small theory that their grandmother was the one woman #that legend fell in love with #i refuse to believe that their nana only went to caraval to play the game #am i being delusional? maybe! but let me be 😭😭😭

[spamgyu]

RED STRING THEORY // Hansol x Reader Oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates weren't real. This wasn't a fantasy world... But somehow, the world wanted them together. Giving them one too many chances to be together. Almost as if there was a little string that connected them to one another PAIRING: Idol!Hansol x Reader GENRE: A very LONG fluff.

There is a popular belief that there is one person you are destined to be with regardless of time, place, and circumstances.

A person is born in to this world connected to their other half by this invisible red string. No matter how knotted and jumbled this string got, it was never broken – because in the end, it will always be them that would be destined for each other.

Y/n had grown up with her grandmother telling her and her older sister this folklore; standing firm on her belief that her and their grandfather were destined lovers and had proclaimed that one day, the two girls would find their way to theirs.

The two had taken their grandmother's words a with a grain of salt. More now that their father and mother had a very messy divorce, leaving the two to be solely under their mother's care.

But the older woman didn't care if the two girls huffed and puffed about her tales that she told each summer they paid a visit. A regular occurrence of their mother shipping them out to her home country; claiming it was good for them to be in touch with their roots instead of rotting away in their rooms during summer break.

Plus, it was far better than making the journey to Chicago where their father had relocated with his new girlfriend.

It was just like old times.

Except, now they were no longer required to have their grandparents accompany them as they explored the large city. They had the freedom to run about the streets, spending hours on end at the computer shop, biking along the river, and spending all their allowance at the local convenience stores.

"I don't think we have enough money." Y/n looked down at the basket of snacks her and her older sister have filled.

Her sister agreed with a nod. "Put back some chips."

Y/n pouted, reaching down to grab three bags of honey butter chips she had carelessly thrown in; trudging to the next aisle where they had been placed.

"Are you going to buy all that?" A young boy no older than fifteen asked, pointing at the bags in her arms. Unlike the boys from the neighborhood, he had looked like someone from back home. She took in his disheveled appearance, his hair was almost like a helmet on his head; the sweat on his forehead causing some of the strands to stick together.

Yuck.

Blinking slowly, y/n tilted her head to the side trying to comprehend what he had asked. She knew the language, just not well enough to understand when someone was speaking fast.

He must have grown up here.

"Hello?" He waved his hand to gain her attention.

"Sorry." She mumbled, rushing to place the chips back on the shelf.

"Weirdo." He said underneath his breath, grabbing a bag.

"Excuse me?!"

Eyes growing wide, the boy turned to face her – ears and cheeks red. "Heh?" He flashed a shy grin and peace sign before running away to the front of the store.

Y/n dismissed the small interaction with the young boy – not before ranting to her older sister about how rude he was to someone who was clearly from not the area.

Teens were rude and arrogant at that age anyways.

It was her last day before heading back west when she had another run in with the teen. She was reaching for a can of grape drink when another hand brushed against hers; causing her to quickly retract her hand – mumbling a soft apology and motioning for the person to go ahead.

"Here." He extended his arm to offer the girl the can, recognizing her from weeks ago.

Their first small interaction that had left him flustered as he made his way back to the practice room. He was told specifically by the staff to be careful of how they portrayed themselves during their time outside the green room, in case they were to debut.

No future idol wants negative stories from strangers as a new comer. One story can easily cause a snowball effect and become not only the downfall of one member but the group as a whole.

He knew their conversation wasn't much of a headline, but he also knew how easily the public villainized a celebrity for something so miniscule.

He did not want to risk it.

The young teen had gone back nearly every day before practice in hopes to run into the girl, wanting to change whatever impression he had originally made.

"Thanks." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile before turning her heel to head for the register.

"Sorry about the other time!" He called out.

"I don't care." She called back, handing the cashier the change she had fished out from her pocket – not bothering to look back at the dumb struck boy stood at the refrigerated drinks aisle.

Crisis averted.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

It had been years since he had been back in the city where his parents had met. Not to mention years since he had given a proper break.

Thanks to their group's success over the past two years since debuting, they were granted a month and half of down time. No practices, no variety show guesting, no filming.

Just quiet time.

The first in a very long time.

Each and every member agreed that they would use the first half of this break to work in their team and the latter half with their own families.

Vernon could not be anymore grateful that his mom had decided this meant flying back New York for a change of scenery and pace.

For once since his debut, he felt like a normal teen; waking up at noon, exploring the city by himself with no set schedules, and eating whatever his heart desired.

"You're staring." His sister nudged him, breaking his gaze from the girl behind the counter who was far too busy taking everyone else's order to notice that he was practically burning a hole into her skin.

"She looks familiar, doesn't she?" He nodded to the girl.

His sister follower his eyes before giving him a look. "No she doesn't."

"I swear, I've seen her before."

Sofia snorted, rolling her eyes at her brother.

He could be a dits at times.

"You wish." She took a step towards the counter, placing her order.

"And for you?" The girl smiled, using her customer service voice that she had gotten down to T since applying for the cafe.

"Oh uh–" He glanced up at the menu, scratching the back of his neck. He had become too preoccupied trying to figure out why the girl in front of him had looked like someone he had seen before that he had completely forgotten the reason why he and his sister decided to drop by in the first place.

Coffee.

"He'll have an iced mocha." His little sister interjected, seeing that her brother seemed still be buffering by her side.

"$10.78 please."

"Vernon." Sofia nudged him yet again, this time a little harder, signaling for him to pay.

"Right." He cleared his throat, digging into his back pocket to pull out the plastic card from his wallet. "Here you go."

"Is he okay?" The girl joked, taking the card from his had.

"He's allergic to girls."

"Am not!" He cried, now fully present.

"Okay well then don't be a freak."

Y/n awkwardly laughed at the two's sudden bickering, handing the form of payment back. "Drinks will be ready at the side."

"Thanks– wait, do I know you?"

"Oh my god." Sofia grumbled, slapping her hand on her forehead in embarrassment.

"Um.... No." Y/n replied, coming out as more of a question. "Are you trying to hit on me?"

"Wha– No! Oh my god no!" His eyes wide, shaking his head quickly.

He was never good with girls.

Or strangers.

Unless they were his fans; all thanks to their media training and fan service lessons.

She raised her brows. "Should I be offended by how quickly you said that?"

"Oh my god oh my god, let's go please you're embarrassing me." Sofia cried, pushing her brother towards the direction where the rest of the cafe customers were stood, waiting for their drinks. "I'm really sorry about him!"

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he was set on figuring out why the girl at the coffee shop looked familiar – dropping by another time.

"Hi familiar stranger." She greeted as he walked into the semi-empty shop, a glaring difference from the other day.

Granted, he stopped by during hours where most would be busy at work or school.

"What can I get you today?"

"Iced mocha please." He said confidently this time.

"Anything else?"

"That's it." Vernon pulled a tight lipped smile, handing her his card.

He was so sure he would have been able to figure it out by now; unable to help himself from staring at her.

Not in a creepy way of course.

No. He was not a creep.

Just annoyed that his brain can't seem to put a finger on why her features looked like someone he has seen before.

He hadn't been in the states in years. Let alone has he been to this particular coffee shop.

But why was she so familiar?

Before he could walk away, he found himself asking the question aloud. Again.

"Are you sure I don't know you?"

"Are you sure you're not hitting on me?" She countered.

He shook his head. "No, I– you just look like someone I know."

Maybe she was a fan.

From a fan sign.

What if she was playing a sick prank, wanting to have her own little cliche moment of bumping into their celebrity crush so that they could organically fall in love with each other.

Not that he was in love.

Nor did he like the girl.

He didn't even know her.

She's pretty. Very pretty– but– oh my god he's staring at her. Shake it off.

"Do you go to fan signs?"

Oh he is about to blow his cover.

"Yeah, totally. I just went to one in Brooklyn– are you stupid?" She replied sarcastically.

She didn't live under a rock. She knew what fan signs were, having heard of them from her cousins when she would visit her grandparents for the summer.

"Taking that as a no." He said slowly.

"Is this some sort of pick up line. You're going to say I look like one of those idols you see when you go to fan signs? It's a really dum–"

He let out a laugh.

If she had only known.

"I told you I'm not hitting on you."

"Says the guy that keeps asking why I look familiar, in a really weird way, I may add."

This was hopeless.

Why did he think he would be able to figure it out this time around?

It was as if there was an itch in his his brain he couldn't seem to scratch. But considering there was no progress in getting any clues as to why the girl looked like some one he had previous encounter with, he'd just have to learn to ignore it.

"I just– it's bugging me– It's whatever." He mumbled, walking over to his drink that was waiting at the counter.

"If it helps, my mom said I have an average face!" She called out.

Little did he know she would later find out who he was, all thanks to her mom's need to watch any and all content that was happening back east.

She had nearly choked on her water that night when his face appeared on screen as her mom watched the latest episode of Happy Together; earning strange looks from both her mom and sister.

Y/n wanted to so badly let the two know that she had not only one but two encounters with the boy on the screen a few months back – for street creds of course.

But she knew they wouldn't believe her.

No one would have.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Moving was one thing.

Y/n didn't mind moving.

Moving to different country.

That was another story.

Due to her grandfather's recent passing, y/n's mother thought it was best to relocate back to their home country to accompany her now widowed grandmother.

Y/n wanted to be selfish.

She wished she had enough guts to fight to say behind, just as her sister had, and complete her masters with her friends. She wished her mom hadn't been fully educated about the transfer program her university had.

If she had only been born two years earlier like her sister, maybe she could have used the "I have a job here that I can't leave behind." excuse.

Don't get her wrong.

She loved her grandmother, and she would do anything for her.

But asking to up root her whole life, to move all the way across the world to leave behind her friends and her boyfriend, was a lot.

Y/n wanted to complain. She wanted to pout. She wanted to throw a fit, like any other toddler who was told they were not allowed the toy they have been asking for but she knew better.

Y/n sucked it up, hiding her disappointment behind a smile each time she came home from yet another day of classes at the university.

A lifestyle she had yet to adjust to.

Pushing past the mess of people, y/n ran down the stairs of the subway station – afraid of missing the train that was set to arrive in just a minute. She had gotten a little too distracted with the shops along the way and lost track of time, forgetting to account for the endless corridors and staircases she had to travel before reaching her set subway line.

She had nearly reached the last step when she felt someone step on the heel of her sneakers, sending her forward in an instant.

Y/n was fully prepared to make contact with the floor, bracing for impact.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a tight grip on her upper arm held her up just enough for her to regain balance.

"Thank you." Y/n turned to the stranger, reaching up to rub where their hand had once been – in attempts to soothe it.

Thanks to their quick thinking, she had been able to save herself from embarrassment and a possible concussion; but that didn't mean it didn't come with a cost.

She could practically feel the bruise forming on her arm where their fingers once was, wincing at the thought of having to explain to her mom and grandmother why she had a perfect hand print bruise on her upper arm.

"Sorry." He apologized sheepishly, coming out as almost a mumble due to the mask that covered half of his face.

"It's fine."

"I uh– let me give you money for uh– cream?"

She raised her brows. She knew there would be a cultural difference once she had moved to the country, but never had she heard of someone being a little too friendly and offering to buy.... bruise relief cream.

It's just a bruise, anyways.

"No need, oh my god." She shook her head, subconsciously reaching over to stop him from grabbing his wallet from his back pocket; instantly retracting her hand when she noticed him flinching at her touch.

Right, this wasn't the west.

They don't do that here.

"Sorry, I– am not."

"From here?" He finished with a chuckle.

"Yeah..."

"I know. I mean– you sound like my sister from back in the states– That's information I didn't need to share."

"Line 6 is arriving." A perky voice blared through the speakers, interrupting the two.

"Shit. Gotta go, don't worry about the bruise!" She spoke quickly, hurrying over to her platform.

To her surprise, the stranger had hopped on to the same cart as her – instantly spotting his all black outfit paired with black fitted hat from a few seats down.

Sh had tried her best to keep herself pre-occupied, looking down at her phone as she pretended to be interested in her instagram feed – not wanting to look like a stalker. It wasn't that she was interested in him.

She had a boyfriend.

No, she was just.... curious.

Something about his voice seemed... familiar.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He was in the same cart as her the following day — easily spotting him as he was dressed in the same ensemble. Just different colors.

This time, he wore light washed jeans and a plain white tee. As opposed to yesterday's all black attire. Not to forget the cap that rested low on his head and mask covering the remainder of his features.

He really did not want to be seen.

"How's the arm?" He asked, taking a seat at the now vacant spot next to her.

Y/n lifted the sleeve of her oversized graphic tee to show him the mark he had left behind. "Purple."

"Sorry again." He winced.

"Saved me from cracking my head open." She shrugged. "You been to New York?"

"Huh?"

Y/n gestured to the embroidered team cap he was sporting.

"Oh uh— kinda?"

"Kinda?" She raised her brows.

"I was born out there." Vernon answered hesitantly.

He wasn't sure if his disguise was, if it could even be considered as one, had been good enough to hide who he really was. He wanted to be careful of any and every information he gave out to her, just in case she was a fan of him and his group.

Not that she seemed to hint that she had any sort of idea of who he was... or seemed to care to figure out who she was speaking to under the mask and hat.

Besides, who's ever heard of an idol taking a subway.

In Vernon's defense, he didn't have a license and didn't feel the need to. It was very rare that he needed to be behind the wheel on his own anyways.

"Cool." She nodded. "Me too."

He let out a soft chuckle, finding her poor attempt to make small talk.... humorous...ly cute.

"What brings you out here?"

"My mom."

"Well yeah–"

"No I'm serious," She laughed, realizing he had probably thought she was making a joke about reproduction. xi. "My mom wanted to relocate."

"Oh my god." He groaned putting his head in his hands out of embarrassment before sitting back up and joining her in her fits of laughter.

"What about you?"

"Also my mom.... and dad."

"Cool."

"Cool."

The sound of the train humming along the tracks filled the silence between the two.

She had yet to figure out how to properly interact with strangers, afraid to come off too strong.

"I'm y/n by the way." She hesitantly brought her hand up, unsure if it was appropriate to shake his hand or not.

"Hansol." He took her warm hands in his cold ones, giving it a quick shake — just in case there had been wandering eyes.

"This is me," Y/n allowed for the train to a complete stop before standing from her seat, turning to give the boy one last smile and wave. "I'll see you around I guess"

She never did.

A part of her wished that he was on the same train again the following day, catching herself craning her neck to see if she could spot him in the mess of crowd that had piled in.

She had done this for three days.

Giving up on the fourth.

Why was she so curious? Who makes a friend on a train?

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n had grown to love the place.

Contrary to what she had made herself believe.

Maybe it was that she had finally adjusted to the culture and the lifestyle of the country, or maybe it was that there was no other reason for her to go back – her boyfriend of three years dumping her on a random Tuesday in May, just days before she was set to fly out to visit him.

So much for the stupid red string theory.

Swearing off relationships, y/n chose to focus on her new job; as a Media Marketing Associate at the new leading entertainment company.

She wanted to make her mother proud – just as her older sister has, who was now a Creative Director for Capitol Records.

Y/n wanted to follow her older sister's footsteps.

At least, if it fate allowed it.

Just before clocking out the night before, her team had received word that one person will be removed – claiming that the workflow needed restructuring.

Y/n wasn't stupid. She knew it meant someone was getting fired.

And judging by seniority, and her being a new hire of two months, she knew she would be the one to be let go.

"Morning." She greeted her coworkers with a sigh.

"Don't look too sad, y/n." Soooyun frowned, knowing that she had nothing but words to offer.

"So much for being a marketing director." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile, reaching over to turn on her computer.

As if it was any use, considering she may have already had her employee access revoked.

She had been fully prepared to pack up her desk by the end of the day, giving her mother a heads up that she may need to cry in her arms once she got home from work.

But fate was on her side.

"No way." She gasped, scanning the email she had opened. "I'm not fired!"

"What?" Sooyun jumped from her seat, walking over to her desk to read over her shoulders. "We are pleased to tell you that you have been selected to join our subsidiary label's marketing tea– this is good news!"

"Oh my god. I thought I was going to be unemployed!" Y/n cried, continuing to scan through the email. "Wait, what floor is PLEDIS?"

"Eight. Good luck. They're a mess." She snickered, walking back to her desk.

"Oh so I might as well have been fired."

"I'm kidding. They're .... working on it."

"I'm drafting my two week notice."

She never drafter her two week notice.

Instead, the department she had been suddenly thrusted into had welcomed her with open arms — despite half of the team having been around since before the label acquisition.

They were all learning the new groove of workflow that HYBE had standardized for a good portion of their subsidiaries' PR and Marketing department, leaning on one another for support during their onboarding.

She had quickly grown to be comfortable with her new team just as she had with the temporary one from two floors above.

"Y/n, it's your time to shine." Her lead grinned, leaning against her desk. "Sales and PR approved of your tour pitch."

"No way." Y/n gasped, her grin matching his.

"I want you to pitch it to the boys."

The grin quickly fell from her face. "No way."

Yn had known each and every boy by name; especially the boy that she had interacted with years back when she was working at the cafe near her home. But she still couldn't help but feel nervous.

She had done minor research on the men she now worked for, but interactions with them in person was different.

Especially now that she was a grown adult with an almost fully developed frontal lobe.

Y/n had yet to meet the group as a whole, having only met Seungcheol and Woozi in passing on the way to the office — tucked far behind the practice room used by the team.

She knew she wanted to move up in the company, meaning that she would be heading meetings regularly. But she had also yet to assimilate to the workplace — let alone the talents she had worked for.

Almost everyone on the team were comfortable with the boys, each having their own stories about how kind and attentive they were to their staff members.

She wanted to ease into it slowly.

Not thrown into the deep end.

Which seemed to have been occurring far more often than she would like.

"Can't I just be the person that clicks the arrow button for the next slide?"

"It's your presentation. You have it memorized."

"I'll teach you."

"I think that will be tough because meeting is in," He glanced down at the silver watch on his arm. "Ten minutes."

Oh she's definitely drafting her two weeks now.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Nervously standing at the end of the very long conference table, y/n fiddled with the hem of her cardigan — waiting for the group of thirteen boys to file in and take a seat.

The growing sound of booming voices grew louder and louder as each seconds passed; signaling their arrival. It was only a matter of milliseconds before they appeared one by one through the doorway — greeting her and Seongho, her team lead who stood beside her.

Of course, he earned chirpier hi's and hello's — being a part of the team for five years now.

Y/n nearly had to fight her eyes from lingering at the him. He had matured entirely, his shoulders now broad, maybe even gotten taller.... and god that jaw.

He looked good.

She quickly averted her eyes down to the device in front of her before anyone caught her stare – which was quite easy as they all seemed quite busy in their own worlds.

Y/n waited until they were situated in their seats, each small conversation finishing as she tapped away on her laptop that was connected to the projector behind her — instantly catching their attention with the bright colors of the mood board she had put together.

She felt like a teacher standing in front of a group of kindergarteners and she felt their gaze on her — some with hands folded in-front and on the table.

Just like kindergarten.

"Hi everyone, name is y/n." She bowed, using her best customer service voice. "I'll be heading today's marketing pitch."

Y/n was about to open her mouth, ready to start with her first slide when a sudden cough attack caught everyone's attention.

It was him.

"You okay?" Mingyu turned to Vernon, letting out a laugh as he patted his back in attempts to soothe him.

"Yeah, swallowed my water wrong." He croaked, earning laughters from everyone.

"Slow down, yeah?" Minghao chuckled.

Vernon nodded, clearing his throat as he adjusted in his seat. "Sorry, uh, y/n please continue."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She didn't know which she liked more about her job. The pay.... or the free food.

Not a day had gone by where she did not passed up taking trip to the company cafe on the third floor to get her daily caffeine fix and sweet little treat from the pastry selection that was baked fresh every day.

Yeah.... it was definitely the free food.

Especially now that she had been appointed to lead the marketing for the group's Japan leg of the tour.

It was her fourth day in a row that she had made her way down to the cafe for the second time since clocking in – deeming that one iced coffee was not enough.

Unfortunately for her, there was a line of at least eight people ahead of her and only two barista's working the counter.

This was going to take longer than the ten minutes she had told her team.

Unbeknownst to her, he was stood second in line – his eyes immediately spotting her when she had entered the room.

Not that he was looking for her.

She was just very easy to spot.

She dressed differently than the rest of the staff.

Her style still very much influenced by western fashion.

"Y/n." Vernon called from his spot.

His voice was very easy to recognize.

Once she locked eyes with him, he motioned for her to stand next to him – cutting the rest of those who stood behind.

Not that they would complain.

"Thank you." She bowed hesitantly.

Y/n had yet to be comfortable around him and the rest of the boys, despite having had frequent interactions since the meeting she had delivered months ago.

She was his age and he had specified that it was completely fine to address him like a friend.

They all preferred their staff seeing them as coworkers, people that they could be friends with, instead of land mines that they had to carefully tiptoe around.

"We'll be seeing each other a lot and we hope you'll be around as long as we are... So please, don't think you have to treat us like kings." The leader said after the meeting, formally introducing the team as a whole to y/n.

"How's planning going?" He asked, making small talk.

In all the times he had a run in with the girl, he hadn't been able to properly converse with her. Mostly because it was either he had a other members with him, who were far more outgoing and vocal – leading the conversations. Or he just didn't quite have time.

He would see her in the halls, giving her a nod as a form of greeting and a quick smile before rushing to the practice room.

The last time he had a proper one on one with her was a year ago... at the subway station near his parent's home.

Though, it was just him that knew of that interaction.

He planned to tell her one day. Thinking it would be a fun fact to bring up one day.

He just needed to find the right time.

"Really good, actually. Stressful. But good." She beamed, wanting to spill all that she had managed to accomplish since being assigned the project.

"I'm excited to see all that you worked on– you and the team."

Pulling out her phone from her phone pocket, she quickly swiped through her emails – double checking to see if anyone had been peering over their shoulders before showing him the screen.

It was rough draft of the train decal she had managed to secure with the subway system in Japan – promoting their multiple shows.

"Are we gong to be on a train?" He gasped, zooming into the file.

"Yeah, just got it approved this morning." She smiled.

"Whoa." Vernon was shocked.

He knew their group had been successful, his bank account being the biggest indicator, but he didn't think it had gotten this far.

Vernon was fully aware that they had gotten quiet big; bigger than what they had imagined during their trainee days. But a train.... with all their faces... set to be traveling throughout the country....? That blew his mind.

"Thank you." He handed her phone back.

"Working on gettin it on a plane too." Y/n replied, stepping up to the counter once the person in front of them had stepped away. "Iced hazelnut coffee please."

"Plane?" He gasped, still standing in his spot, mouth agape.

Y/n didn't think it was much of a big deal, remembering that she had briefly mentioned it during her presentation. Along with the VERY generous budget HYBE and PLEDIS had given the marketing team.

She remembered clearly because Minghao compared it to the Hello Kitty plane he had taken once on the way back to China; unable to help herself from laughing.

"Uh.... he'll have an iced mocha." She turned back to the barista, letting out a soft laugh as she stepped away from the front of the line – Vernon following suit.

She had perfectly remembered his order from that day.

Unable to shake it off. Especially not after she realized who he was.

"A plane?"

"It's not for sure yet."

"A plane." He repeated, coming back down to earth. "Wait I didn't order!"

"Oh I got it."

"Did you get me an iced americano?" He deadpanned, knowing that it had been a stereotypical drink that was a crowd favorite. And considering he was lost in his own world, he figured it would have been the safe choice for her to say.

He hated that watered down tar drink.

"Did you want an iced americano?" Y/n asked slowly, scolding herself for ordering the same drink he had picked out when he was a teen.

How was she going to explain this to him?

Without being an absolute creep...

"No but it's fine, I'll give it to Seungkwan."

"I got you an iced mocha."

Welp.

There goes the bomb.

She began planning her escape route.

"Oh." He was left dumbfounded for a second time.

"Uh.... you seem like an iced mocha guy."

That was convincing.... right?

"Should I be offended?"

"Maybe." She shrugged, letting out a small sigh of relief as she walked over to get their drinks from the counter.

Crisis averted.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n didn't intend to stay past her usual work hours. She wasn't one to work a full twelve hour day, not when she can help it.

The first day of the Follow to Seoul was fast approaching, and though she was on the Japan team, she had grown restless as the big day approached. Each and every single marketing deliverables had to be cohesive through out all the stops, regardless of country or city. And considering it was her that had pitched this overall theme, she couldn't help but take extra hours to ensure any and all loose ends had been perfectly tied off.

Y/n was a perfectionist.

She had taken one last glance at the email she had scheduled to be sent to all the staff members the following morning, containing all information relating to the tour; including posting schedules on social media, announcement of later dates, and merch recap.

Content with herself, she closed out of her browser and collected her belongings – heading for the door.

At least she wasn't the last one on their floor, getting accustomed to the group's late night practices. She had one too many run ins with a few members in the past week, each scolding her for staying past the usual 6pm clock out time.

"Didn't you already get an earful from Seungkwan the other day?" Vernon called out from the end of the hall.

He had stepped out of the elevator and instantly recognized her; a smile appearing on his face.

Because he wanted to tease her.

Nothing else.

Looking up from her phone, she let out a laugh. She was caught.

"Shouldn't you be at practice? You're late." She teased right back.

They had met halfway, both with stupid grins on their faces.

Because of the joke.

"I had schedule before this." He defended.

"I was finishing up the last few details." Y/n countered.

His bottom lip jutted out, nodding in understandment. A habit she had noticed he seemed to have done quite often.

"The last train was 30 minutes ago."

"My mom's picking me up."

"That's cute."

She reached over to give his arm a smack, knowing that he was holding himself back from making another joke.

They had finally crossed the weird line that rested between coworkers that made small talk with one another in the work place and coworkers that you'd consider to maybe... just maybe be okay with hanging out with outside of the workplace.

Not that they have ever.

That was still untouchable territory.

Being an idol and all.

The only time they have spent time outside of the office building was during company dinners. A neutral setting.

Sure, they've spent some lunches at the cafeteria together – Vernon unable to pass up free food when he was far too lazy to go off and find other meals outside of the company.

"Ow! That'll bruise." Vernon cried, grabbing the spot where her hand had landed.

"Oh please. I barely grazed it. I would have to grab you really hard to even leave a mark."

"Like when you fell in the subway?" He snorted.

Y/n brows furrowed in confusion, her head tilting to the side. She had never told him about that day in the subway.

She had never told anyone about it.

It was of no significance.

A minor interaction with a stranger.

"How do you know about that?"

Vernon's eyes grew wide at the sudden slip up. "Huh?"

"I never told anyone about that."

"No– no you definitely told me about it. You were falling and this guy saved you from falling."

Or maybe she had.

... Had she?

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He was screwed.

Not only was he screwed but he owed Mingyu and Dokyeom ₩100,00 ... each.

Vernon had a crush.

A big fat crush that had him grinning like a stupid little kid every time he was near her. Hell, he had caught himself grinning while looking at her instagram.

Which took a lot of convincing and a few specially delivered coffees at her desk for him to even pry out of her.

He would spend hours on end that day carefully swiping through to make sure that he did not accidentally like any of her posts.

His fans were smart. Detectives even.

He knew any movement on any social media did not go unnoticed.

All hell would break loose the second they caught wind of him interacting with anyone but his members or fans.

He had managed to deny all claims that he may be attracted to the newest addition to their staff team, and everyone seemed to have bought it.

All except Mingyu and Dokyeom, who had caught the two one too many times in their own world during her lunch breaks.

Vernon had confidently challenged the two to a ₩100,00 bet to prove that they were wrong.

He didn't think they would win.

It was silly little crush.

But she had texted him earlier that day, wanting to talk after work – claiming that she had to confess something.

Since receiving that text, he had been restless; unable to find a comfortable position on his couch and opted to plan out his outfit instead.

He wanted to look good.

Because she's confessing her feelings right?

And if the feelings were mutual.... then why not? Right?

He's allowed to date.

Everyone else around him had significant others.

Why can't he?

Vernon decided being home was not an option, not while his everyone else was home and able to pick up on his behavior.

Coming up with some lame excuse about wanting to practice one last time before they headed off to Japan for their first show, he made his way to their company's designated floor – waiting in the practice room.

He was grateful that she had asked to meet on the one particular day their day off landed on – their managers agreeing they needed rest more now that the non-stop schedules were kicking off.

Vernon was laying on the couch when he heard the door creak open, his head shooting up – eyes immediately locking with hers. He jumped up and off of the couch; adjusting his shirt.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as she grew closer to him.

It began to beat louder once she was a foot from him, his nose instantly filled with her signature scent.

Burberry HER.

He wasn't weird.

He had complimented her months before and she happily advertised the small roll on version of the product she carried with her at all times.

"I hate not smelling good." She reasoned when he had teased her about it.

"How was work?" He asked.

She shrugged. "We finally announced the Follow train and plane. Your fans made a few jokes about how they hope it was you guys flying it too."

He let out a chuckle, aware of the jokes that their fanbase were capable of making – some even making it into the groupchat whenever either one of them found one good enough to send them to tears in laughter.

"Anyways, I have a confession." She wasted no time getting right to the point. "And I already know you're probably going to distance yourself after, but I don't care. It's been literally bugging me for months now."

"It's okay, I– I think I have something to say too." He wiped his hands on his jeans, feeling them grow moist from the anticipation.

"You do?" Y/n was puzzled.

"Yeah but uh... you go first."

"No, now I'm curious." She laughed, picking up on his nervous demeanor.

She was nervous as well, but his.... was little more off putting; the color on his lips draining.

Vernon was glad they were standing, knowing that his legs would have been bouncing enough to shake the whole room from the anxiety he had been feeling.

He had confessed his feelings to someone before. Why was he so nervous?

She was going to do it as well.

Right?

"I– fine." He sucked in a deep breath, locking his eyes with her. "I um, may have a slight, crush– No actually, no I have feelings for you. Positive ones. You know the one that makes me want to kick your feet and giggle when you text the person you like.... That kind."

Y/n's lips formed into an "o".

That wasn't what she was expecting, though.... she should have guessed the minute she picked up on his strange behavior – mentally comparing it to a high schooler when they were around their crush.

Vernon watched as the girl slowly walked over to the couch, taking a seat. His eyes remaining on her as she sat in silence.

"I'm guessing that you were not going to say the same thing."

She slowly shook her head, still in shock.

Welp.

Time to go on a year long hiatus.

He allowed her for a minute of silence, taking a seat on the far opposite end of the couch; silently drumming his fingers on his legs as he tried his best to keep the voices in his head from jumping into further conclusions.

"So I'm uh– going to head out." He clicked his tongue, standing from his seat.

God this was so awkward.

"Wait!" Y/n her voice cracked, finally blinking away the blank stare she had.

Vernon was halfway to the door when she had called out for him, turning his heel to face her.

"Sorry I was... processing." She ran her fingers through her hair. Y/n had many things to consider.

The thing was, she too had positive feelings for him.

But that was the thing.

She was perfectly fine pining for him in silence. She was okay with the one sided admiration. Y/n was completely okay with having him as her work crush, the reason as to why she was that much more motivated to come in when the days felt like a call in sick type of day.

Because just a minute ago, she didn't know he had felt the same.

But now that he had exposed how he felt, it complicated her false reality.

Not only did she realize she might just have a chance with him... she had a chance with an idol.

Someone who was meant to remain unattainable. Only for fans.

Someone who cannot be seen with anyone of the opposite gender.

Someone who she was definitely not supposed to be dating.

Not that he asked her out.... he just told her how he felt.

"I came here to tell you that we met before." Y/n swallowed, walking over to where he stood. "I– we were teenagers. I was working at a cafe and you and your sister came in. I– I didn't know who you were at the time but a few months later I saw you on TV and– I didn't think I would see you again. Let alone work for you. It's been eating me alive since I saw you in the conference room. More now that we're friends. Or... possible ... crushes? I–"

Now it was his turn to be in shock.

"Do you believe in the red string theory?" He blurted.

That damn red string.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, nodding in response to his question.

Vernon had heard about the red string theory from his mother, she had always entertained all sorts of ideas as such and happily shared it to him and his sister.

He rarely believed in these ideas, such as zodiac signs being able to properly describe someone's personality down to what makes them tick. Listening to his mother ramble on and on out of respect.

"You don't know this but– that day, that you fell at the station... That was me. I was the one that stopped you from falling. That bruise, I– I'm Hansol."

Vernon remembered that day so clearly.

His sister was in town for a quick break from her school back west and he had been paying her a visit at his parent's home – opting to take the public transportation instead of bothering his band of brothers or managers.

He was far too busy trying to keep his profile low as he headed back to his shared apartment when he stepped on the back of her sneakers.

Thanks to his quick reflexes, he had been able to catch her.

He was left in awe of her beauty that day, cursing himself for not approaching her when he had caught her staring from a few feet away.

The second time was purely coincidence.

He was sending his sister off.

He didn't think y/n would be taking the same scheduled train as him.

Vernon wasn't one to take things a sign. But he did just this on time – taking a seat next to the girl.

He didn't think he would see her again.... again.

Especially not as someone heading their marketing meeting.

"I choked on my water that day you were presenting because– I mean, I was surprised that you were there." He continued.

Maybe both her grandmother and his mom were right.

Maybe they did have an invisible string that tied them together.

That must be the only explanation.

"Wait— you— hold up." She reached over, using one hand to hold onto his upper arm; trying to stabilize her now weak knees. "Is this okay? I'm allowed to hold onto— I—"

Vernon felt his ears grow hot, unable to bite back the smile fighting its way to appear on his face. "Yeah this is okay." He nodded.

"Before we circle back to the whole destiny thing," Y/n withdrew her arm back to her side. "I— can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but I... uh— kinda like you too?"

"Kinda ... with a question mark?"

"Okay, I do. I have positive feelings for you."

He felt his heart take a leap.

"Can you give me a second?" Vernon held up a finger before walking over to a corner, letting out a dramatic 'yes!'.

She watched him in awe.... and pure adoration. A larger grin on his face as he made his way back to where he stood.

He was cold and stoic on camera, rarely showing any emotions but she quickly realized that the facade he seemed to put on wasn't who he really was.

Vernon was a dork, an animated and very funny guy who enjoyed teasing her any chance he got. Just like any other boy who had a crush.

There had been countless of times when she found herself wiping away the moisture from her eyes from the stupid corny jokes he told.

"Back to the whole destiny thing."

"It can't possibly be real but... I'll take it. I'll allow it." She laughed.

"You think that little red string is tied to yours?" Bringing his pinky up to their eye line.

"I would hope so."

"Want to test the theory?" He wiggled his finger, earning a giggle from her. "Dinner on me?"

"Let's start with dinner on a plate first."

Vernon's smile fell, using his other hand to fiddle with his pinky.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying to untie the string." He chuckled, breaking character.

"You're a loser." Y/n rolled her eyes.

tag list: @leah-rose03 @yoonzinuhh @musingsofananxiouspotato @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @hanniebanggi

#something different for now lol #vernon x y/n #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon fluff #vernon fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #red string au #hansol vernon chwe #chwe hansol x reader #vernon x oc

[wolf-nir]

Daella Targaryen, second child born to King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, with Queen Aemma Arryn, his consort and cousin-wife. Born in the year 92 A.C, Daella was supposed to have a twin brother, but the baby did not survive the birth, which led to her being known as the “Half-Dragon Princess” by the Realm.

She was named after the mother of Queen Aemma who was also the sixth born daughter of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, the Old King, with his sister-wife Alysanne Targaryen, the Good Queen.

Possessing the common characteristics of a Targaryen — silver hair and purple eyes — Daella did not possess the same striking beauty as her sister, Rhaenyra, but neither could she be called plain. Described as having soft features, with gentle (almost sad) eyes and fair-complexion, Daella was a small woman, slim of waist and slight of frame, and had a pleasing voice and sweet smile.

According to the testimonies of bards, jesters and nobles of King Viserys' court, Princess Daella was known to have a gentle temperament compared to other Targaryens of the time, such as her older sister, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, and uncle, Prince Daemon Targaryen. The princess was described as courteous and biddable, with a quick-witted personality and sharp mind. 

Beloved by the smallfolk, Princess Daella was known for her charities and projects in order to continue the legacy of her great-grandmother, the Good Queen Alysanne, by helping to improve the living conditions of the lowborn and the woman of the realm. As a princess, she did not have the power to hold a women's court, but she often visited open squares, orphanages and clinics for the smallfolk, where she spent hours listening and learning from the women.

Rider of Grey Ghost, Daella was known as the only Targaryen to tame one of the wild dragons of Dragonmount. She was two and ten when she succeeded. There are contradictions as to the historical accounts of how the Princess became the rider of the wild dragon, but the most accepted theory is that, on one of her visits to Dragonstone, the Princess went in search of the dragon in order to ride it, ceasing to be the only Targaryen (apart from the King and Queen) without a dragon.

#house of the dragon #hotd oc #targaryen oc #house targaryen #oc: daella targaryen #piccrew #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #aemma arryn #daemon targeryan

[snalsupremacy]

hgsn theory: Tanaka is from Kubitachi, and is (probably) Rie Kurebayashi's son

now that Tanaka is back (FINALLY OMG) I would like to share this theory I have been thinking of for a while. Out of respect for the  ch 0-11 scanlators, I will not be sharing any screenshots of the pages I'm referencing, but listing them instead. It shouldn't be a big deal since I do describe all the important parts so u don't have to click on them every five seconds, its just to prove I'm not making shit up. Also, for those who don't know who Rie Kurebayashi is (I don't blame you, we literally only know her name based on Yoshiki's contact on his phone): She's the middle aged woman who can see the yokai, and urges Yoshiki to get away from Hikaru or else they'll get "mixed up"

• She mentioned in ch 6 pg 11 (Mangadex) that her dead husband left a scar on her son's body. Who of the cast of characters has a scar on their body? Tanaka. Feels very Chekhov's gun-ish to mention this very specific detail and then introduce a character with a scar right after. • In ch 9 pg 32, he says "Kubitachi is a dank, musty, miserable hole. Imagine if I just... didn't go...". Kubitachi isn't a well known place that has any reputation, yet he describes it with disdain. The only way he would know such things is if he lived there once. • The elders know Tanaka. Mikasa (glasses one) is the one who brings him up (ch 9 pg 31), and Takeda (angry one)  even says "I didn't want to stoop to joining forces with him" (ch 9 pg 32). On ch 12 pg 31, Mikasa even says "Still lookin' ragged as usual" when he first sees him. They know him enough to criticize his looks in front of him, unlike any employer-worker relationship. "As usual" implies that they have seen each other multiple times, perhaps because they saw him grow up in Kubitachi. • Tanaka probably has a special ability. HGSN puts a lot of emphasis in the eyes, especially of those who experience the supernatural. 'Hikaru' has red pupils, Rie has a white halo around her pupil, and Asako's has multiple circles. I'm bringing this up because we never see Tanaka's eyes. Sure, it's summer and the sun is bright, but even inside a car or a house, he never takes his sunglasses off. In this promotional piece, Tanaka is grouped together with Rie and Asako, who have special abilities. As seen by Asako's grandmother, the special ability is genetic. So If Tanaka is Rie's son, it would explain why he has it. • In ch 13 pg 19, Tanaka not only recognizes who old lady Matsuura was, but even asks of Takeda's father. He knows these people by name and face, another hint that he grew up in Kubitachi. • So ch 14 pg 3, is the elephant in the room of my theory. He says that he doesn't have any spiritual intuition, which would disprove my theory he has a special ability. He also mentions that he got the scar by being to "absorbed" in his work In ch 12 pg 29, we see that Rie's son was still a small child when her husband came back (assuming this flashback is from then, when else could it be?). I doubt his father coming back is considered him being absorbed in his work. If he is saying the truth, then he is not Rie's son (but could still be from Kubitachi). However, he could be lying. The elders don't trust him, especially Takeda. In ch 14 pg 2, he even says "Don't ya go doin' somethin' strange while I'm watchin' ya". He doesn't trust this grown man enough to even leave him alone at his work!  Tanaka is just not a trustable person, even in the newest chapter, he seems to be texting a mysterious Satou person, showing that he's full of secrets. • Which actually leads me to the latest chapter! The translator has pointed out that both Tanaka and Satou are extremely common last names, and that combined with not knowing Tanaka's full name leads me to believe that that's not his real name. Why is he using an alias? I'm not so sure. A mysterious guy like him probably has many reasons to hide his real name. Maybe he doesn't want people in this town to recognize him? Obviously the elders do see to know him more than that, but not anyone else, including Rie Kurebayashi. Oof I think that's it! Would love to hear you guys' opinions, but please be nice about it😅 I seen how some of you guys tore that one hgsn reading that it was homophobic to shreds and while I disagree with op some of y'all were brutal! I mean, another day another slay ig but fr pls b nice I will cry🥺

#hgsn #hikaru ga shinda natsu #the summer hikaru died #hgsn theory #snal posting

[seriouslysam8]

Idk if it’s just me but I find it incredibly curious that you chose Selcouth, meaning different/new, for the triwizard story, which should in theory be something Harry (being a Triwizard champion) should be seen before?? Also the meaning of Precipice sort of terrifies me, so obviously I’m requesting a sneak peek lol

Well, it’s new to James… 😉

Sirius looked at Harry with an odd expression with his eyebrows knitted low on his face and the corners of his mouth turned down. He rose slowly from the kitchen table and crossed the room to Harry without a word. When Sirius pulled him into a hug, Harry returned the embrace without hesitation.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Sirius whispered in a soft yet gruff voice.

Pulling back, Harry offered a smile. “Thanks.”

“You know when you turn seventeen, it’s wizarding tradition that you receive a watch,” Sirius explained.

Harry nodded. “I know. The Weasleys bought Ron a really nice new watch.”

Sirius offered a small smile. “I don’t really like a lot of wizarding traditions. They’re mostly outdated and too posh for my liking. But I do like the watch tradition.”

“I like it too, I guess,” Harry replied, suddenly feeling very awkward.

There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Sirius had bought him a watch, but Harry didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal about it.

Sirius cleared his throat. “As far as I can gather, James’ watch was buried with him. Nobody thought to keep it for you. I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry froze, never thinking that it was even possible for him to have his father’s watch. Now that he knew he wasn’t getting it, he couldn’t help the stab of disappointment.

“That’s all right,” Harry replied, shifting his weight. “I have the cloak. And the map. That’s… that’s plenty.”

Sirius frowned. “It’s really not, but there’s nothing I can do about the watch. I can, however, offer you what I hope is the next best thing.”

Harry blinked at his godfather. “The next best thing?”

Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gray box. He extended it to Harry who took it. Inside sat a watch. A very nice and expensive looking watch with constellations embossed on the face.

“I told you before that I ran away from home when I was sixteen. It was during the Christmas holidays of my fifth year. I never went back to Grimmauld Place until two summers ago,” Sirius explained. “I lived at the Potters for the next two summers and spent both the Christmas and Easter holidays with them. They treated me like I was a second son. Your grandmother had a shouting match with my mother on the platform at the beginning of my sixth year. She couldn’t believe that my mother didn’t even attempt to contact me nor really care where I was. Euphemia was a wonderful woman. There wasn’t a day that I felt out of place or unwanted when I was with them. Molly reminds me a lot of her. They both have the biggest hearts of anyone I have ever met.”

Harry smiled softly as he ran his thumb along the leather of the band. “Mrs. Weasley’s pretty great. I’m glad my grandmother was like her.”

“That watch belonged to me. Your grandmother picked it out and got a matching one for James,” Sirius continued and Harry snapped his attention up to his godfather.

“This is yours?” Harry asked. “Sirius, I can’t… I can’t accept this.”

Sirius shook his head. “I haven’t worn it since before Azkaban. It was confiscated from me when I arrived at the prison. It was in my personal effects that Andy accepted and stored. It seemed…” Sirius’ brows furrowed. “It seemed odd, I suppose. I got used to not having a watch. Anyway, it’s a watch your grandmother picked out, which I think is nice. And the inscription on the back seems fitting.”

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest as he carefully pulled out the watch from the box. It seemed so fragile and breakable as he imagined a woman with dark hair and a warm smile looking at watches. Turning over the watch in his hand, his eyes zeroed in on the words my son engraved on the back. Harry’s eyes felt oddly misty at the words.

“I know I’m not James,” Sirius said in a thick voice. “But I love you, Harry.”

[that-left-turn]

Unedited young Carol temporal anomaly flashback so adjust expectations and proceed with caution.

···

Sophia turns around from replacing the coffeepot on the burner and catches sight of the customer who'd entered the diner while she was turned away. He's scruffy looking with a prominent scar underneath his eye. Early to mid fifties and far too old to eye her granddaughter who's bent over the table in the corner booth, wiping it down. Sophia purses her lips in displeasure. "Carol."

"Yeah?" Her pride and joy spins around, swiping errant curls, which have escaped the bedraggled looking bun on top of her head, out of her face with a look of impatience.

Sophia can't help but smile. She wishes the girl... Well, young woman now, would modulate her language better and say 'yes' instead, but Carol is, in a very Anne of Green Gables way, the light of her life.

"Would you get me some more coffee grounds from the storeroom?"

"Yes, ma'am." Carol starts moving towards the counter and the backdoor, but then freezes when she catches sight of the newcomer.

Sophia's eyes narrow at Carol's self-conscious smile as she nods a greeting. She smooths down her hair, or tries to, and there's a blush underneath all those freckles. It's uncharacteristic of her to be coy.

"Hay." His voice is a grumble in his chest, but the look on his face is gentle. Not exactly what Sophia was expecting from a man with his appearance, not that she wants him making eyes at her child all the same.

"Sit wherever you like," she interrupts as she grabs a menu from beneath the counter and takes in how startled they both look. She doesn't know how they know one another, but it's clear they do, and just as clear from the girly smile on her granddaughter's face that this man is someone.

Carol usually talks to her, tells Sophia about how her day has been. The people in her life. She has not mentioned this man, who's making his way over to a booth by the window and Sophia can't help but wonder why that is. Carol, very occasionally, drives in to one of the bigger towns, where she went to high school, to meet up with friends, so it's possible she met him on one of those trips.

"Can I get you anything to drink while you look at the menu?" She pastes a pleasant smile onto her face as she studies him more closely.

"Jus' coffee. Black, no sugar." He's soft-spoken and makes brief eye contact before looking down at the menu again. "Thanks."

His looks are unkept and he has tattoos, but she can see that he's attractive in a rugged sort of way. His shoulder span is massive, but he's also definitely old enough to comfortably be her baby girl's father. She's only 22 and young in her ways. Sheltered. Carol knows their small town, the diner out on the highway and church. She doesn't know middle-aged men who look like they belong to a biker gang... or she shouldn't.

···

"Done tol' you before, he's too old for you." Willa Mae, their short-order cook, appears in the doorway just as Carol has located the box with bags of coffee.

Carol purses her lips and swipes a stray tendril of hair off her face. "It's not even like that."

She's irritated at her hair, at Willa Mae and at her grandmother for sending her off. Mostly at Dixon for showing up when Mama is working. He usually comes in the late evenings, when it's slow and she's alone, with only Willa Mae in the kitchen. They talk while he eats a slice of pie and Carol thought... She imagined he came in because he liked her, wanted to talk to her, but now, he's here in the middle of the afternoon, having social hour with her grandma. So much for that theory.

"Don't lie to your elders, child. You keep sneakin' 'em glances at 'im every chance you get."

Carol huffs. "I'm not blind." She hoists the large bag up in her arms. "He lost his wife. Talks about her like she walked on water, so it doesn't matter if I'm eyeballing him."

"That'd be why the man so grumpy then. Cancer?"

Willa Mae looks sympathetic and Carol knows she should be grateful that the other woman hasn't told anyone about Carol ogling Dixon whenever he comes in. There aren't that many mysterious strangers around rural Georgia and the pool of potential boyfriends is pitiably small... more of a cesspool, so she's intrigued. That's all.

Carol moves past her, "He hasn't said and it seems insensitive to ask."

A man who speaks of his wife like Dixon does... A man who loved her in ways his words won't convey, but his eyes and his gestures do... The tone of his voice tells a story that leaves Carol breathless. She wants that. Not him, precisely, she tells herself as she feels her cheeks heat, but being loved like that. Simple, straightforward and unconditional. Without doubt.

Pete, at the dollar store, only loves his mama that way and Charlie still ate boogers in third grade. Andy has had mumps, so he probably can't have children and Beau, with his sweaty palms, is handsy. It's slim pickings, so she can't really be blamed for her curiosity.

Carol sighs and pushes the door open with her hip.

···

"The company who runs survival seminars out on the farm on Route 12? I'm their hunter an' tracker."

Sophia furrows her brow. She's heard about the courses, but she'd been under the impression that they're Northerners and city folk. Some of their clients end up having lunch at the diner while talking about bug out bag essentials and their general preparedness for the end of the world. The man in front of her, though, he's definitely a Georgia boy and he doesn't seem like a prepper. There is no alpha posturing.

"I thought they were all ex military. All that talk of collapse and preparing for Armageddon," she touches the crucifix pendent of her necklace for effect and notices that his lips quirk in response.

"It's good to have some basic survival skills, just in case," he says, "but most of 'em are just a buncha rich assholes wantin' to play with guns." Sophia sees the moment wash over him when he realizes that he should have minded his language better. "Sorry," his eyes flicker to her and then down to his plate again. "Forgetting my manners. Hardly see any women these days."

He looks up at her and then beyond her too, before he can catch his wandering eye. It's not lecherous, but it's something and Sophia isn't sure how she feels about that. It's her job to protect her granddaughter and this man is a stranger, more than twice her age. She can see why Carol finds him compelling, but she's naive and hasn't dated much, so she has no real experience and certainly none with men who expect more than hand holding and furtive kisses just beyond the porch light.

"We... Well, our church has a potluck this weekend. You should come, meet the rest of the community."

···

Carol wipes down the counter, refills old man Tucker's coffee and fills an order for country fried steak all while glancing surreptitiously at the table where Dixon sits. There's no reason to go over there. Mama is doing her sweet-as-anything Southern lady routine whenever she talks to him because she knows. Of course she noticed. Carol nearly tripped on her own feet when he showed up.

And, he would show up when she looks a mess too! Usually, she freshens up a bit in the evening, puts on just a dab of lip gloss, which her grandma won't let her wear while working, and fights her hair into something less... wild. There's no reason to look a fright during the late shift just because it's quiet, that's what she tells herself. But today, lunch was busy and things happened, so Carol has a nice mustard stain on her shirt and her hair looks like she got stuck in Mr. McCullough's thresher.

"Carol, sweetheart, there's an order in the window," Ms. Vivian says over her glass of iced tea, "and I'm sure the gentleman by the window would like a refill on his drink."

Her smile is kind, but Carol is mortified as she turns around to grab the plates. She'd get fired for being this distracted if the owner wasn't her grandmother. It's a crush—just a crush!—but it's in front of half of the town's busybodies and it's humiliating. She's also horrified that maybe he sees it too, that she's making heart eyes. She knows nothing will come of it. She's too young for him, like Willa Mae keeps pointing out, and he's not emotionally available.

"Enjoy, sir!" Her smile is large to compensate for the wait when she delivers the food to the man seated on the far end of the counter, but he's hungry enough, digging into his giant portion, that he doesn't seem to mind.

Taking a deep breath as she grabs the coffeepot, Carol makes her way over to Dixon's table. She's nervous. There was never an audience when they've talked before and she knows Willa Mae is right. She's being ridiculous, thinking that a grown man would find her interesting. Carol has never been anywhere or done anything. He's had a whole life... and a wife he's still helplessly and hopelessly in love with if Carol is to judge the play of emotions in his eyes whenever he talks about her.

Carol, in contrast to the capable woman he describes, is a silly girl.

It feels like all eyes are on her when she stops at the table, but she clamps down on the urge to look around. "Refill?" she asks and holds up the coffeepot. Feels like an idiot. An idiot with a mustard stain on her boob and a rat's nest on her head.

Dixon looks up at her through his messy bangs and she wants to run her fingers through them. Smooth his hair back so she can see his eyes properly.

"Met your grandma. Sophia," he says with a peculiar emphasis that makes her both frown and smile. It sounds... almost wistful. "Invited me to the potluck on Sunday."

"Yeah?"

It's an undignified squeak, but Dixon doesn't live in town and isn't part of their church, so it's not like Carol has a chance to casually run into him and strike up a conversation. She's only ever seen him in the late evening, when he shows up on his motorbike to order a meal at a time when most people are preparing for bed. It always feels like they're alone in the world on those nights. Intimate.

"Mm-hmm." He nods and then looks sheepish. "I'm not real good at cooking unless there's a campfire. Ca– my wife... Great cook." His face turns pensive and his finger traces the wood veining of the table. "Don't know what to bring for a potluck."

Carol always get complimented on her cookies. If she bakes, Dixon doesn't have to feel embarrassed about showing up empty handed. Or worse, not come at all. He seems lonely and the town is nice, really. Just small, but everybody shows up for potluck. He could make friends, find his place in the community.

"I could– I could bake cookies, if you like." Carol says it quickly, before she can examine the implications. "For you to bring, if you want. They're good," she assures him quickly.

At that, Dixon smiles. Not a twitch of his lips, like he usually does when she tries to be funny. It's an honest, full-fledged smile and he's gorgeous. Her breath catches and Carol licks her lips she stares at him. Clenches her thighs together to ward off the tingles.

"Are they pink?"

His lips? Yes, they're... kissable. Not that she would know. Why is he asking that? "They... eh... What?" Her face feels like it's on fire.

He looks amused and Carol wonders if she voiced any of the thoughts running through her head. She's never this flustered at night. Not that she's ever really quick-witted in the way his wife seems to have been, but Carol wasn't constantly thinking insipid things before. It's that Mama is watching, along with the rest of the patrons that has her brain scrambled. He's supposed to be her nighttime secret. A guilty pleasure no one knows about.

"The cookies?"

Her eyes widen. How did he know? "I use beets," she says, "to sweeten them, so yeah, they have a kind of rose tint."

He looks at her and there is something there. Carol isn't imagining it. A tenderness. Maybe. Maybe he just thinks she's endearing, in a dad kind of way and suddenly there's a lump in her throat.

"Everything all right with your meal?" Mama's suddenly just there, smiling at Dixon but her eyes move over Carol like she's checking for an injury.

"Was real tasty. Thank you. Should be gettin' back, but I'll see you ladies at the potluck." He takes out his wallet and offers Sophia a couple of twenties to settle his bill. "If there are grills, maybe I could bring venison steaks?"

Carol can tell her grandma is pleased by that, even if her face doesn't show it. She belongs to the generation that feels a man should be able to provide. "Sounds lovely," she smiles, "Maybe we could make some roast potatoes to go with that, Carol?"

She nods, not caring one way or the other about potatoes, but it seems like Dixon has made a good first impression. Maybe he can start over. They can be... friends.

···

I keep telling myself that I'll write something darker and angsty, and then what shows up when I type is absolutely ridiculous. It's like I can't help myself.

(Thanks to you, @my-mt-heart, I spent an afternoon, coming up with various Carol backstories (All of them more plausible than this!) while I was supposed to be working.)

#caryl #caryl fanfiction #quick and dirty #carol peletier

[quotesfrommyreading]

Hours after the elementary school shooting in Uvalde, Texas, that left 19 children and two teachers dead, it began.

“I’m sorry but I have to say it,” one poster wrote on a far-right message board. “We have to have another false flag shooting, killing small children.”

“Those directing false flags know the emotional response from the Buffalo shooting is wearing down for the sheep,” another person posted online. “So they did another one in Uvalde Texas to reinforce the response. Don’t be fooled. False Flag season is here.”

This script could have come from 10 years ago—and in fact, some of the same people spreading lies about Uvalde have been doing it for a decade. I have spent the past four years tracking the rise and spread of misinformation about a tragedy heartbreakingly similar to Uvalde: the Sandy Hook massacre. The haunting echoes between the two shootings don’t stop at the young victims.

The story of Lenny Pozner shows how these misinformation campaigns proceed. Two years after his son, Noah, 6, was murdered at Sandy Hook, Pozner started to receive chilling messages online. “I want to hear the ‘slaughter,’ and I won’t be satisfied until the caskets are opened,” one message read. “Prove to the world you’ve lost your son,” another demanded.

The missives in this case arrived from a woman with the online handle “gr8mom.” They were not the first, and wouldn’t be the last. After Sandy Hook, Infowars broadcaster Alex Jones had spread the same bogus theory that the shooting was a staged pretext for federal gun control, with the families of the victims in on the plot. The families fought back. In 2018, 10 of them, including Pozner’s, sued Jones for defamation. They won late last year, and soon, juries will decide how much Jones must pay them in damages.

The people who spread these conspiracies online were harder to categorize. For Pozner, who led the families’ battle against the conspiracy theorists, there was a difference between commercial conspiracists like Jones and relative unknowns like “gr8mom.” “Jones was not interested in getting to any sort of destination or truth,” he told me in an interview. But perhaps some others struggled “to carry the pain of women and children being executed.” Maybe their questions sprang from a genuine inability to understand how this could have happened. Pozner hoped that by walking these people through the reality of Noah’s life and the hell of his death, he could make them believe. Or at least make them stop.

In my new book, I caught up with “gr8mom,” who harassed the families of victims for years. Had her life gone as planned, she would have been a first grade teacher. A suburban Tulsa grandmother, she instead became a vicious conspiracy theorist, tormenting the parents of children murdered in their Sandy Hook classrooms. When we spoke, she told me she was proud of what she’d done—and is still doing.

Today, one-fifth of Americans believe all major mass shootings are staged, according to Joe Uscinski an associate professor of political science at the University of Miami who studies political conspiracy theories. These false theories will no doubt torment the families of the victims in Texas, just as they did in Sandy Hook. How could anyone, a parent no less, not only believe these delusions but make it a point to confront the families with them? Pozner wanted to know. This is the story of one of those people.

  —  Shooting at Uvalde: A conspiracy theorist explains why she says no kids were ever killed

#elizabeth williamson #mass shootings #psychology #conspiracy theories #sandy hook elementary school shooting #robb elementary school shooting #usa #leonard ponzer #alex jones #joseph e. uscinski #kelley watt

[reservoircat]

color theory - original fiction

I’ve improved a LOT LOT LOT with writing over the last few years with writing. I placed one of my character focused pieces under the cut, so if you wanna read a one shot horror romance that still needs a tiny touch up but that I’m overall happy w, then please give it a look see

tw for horror elements, religious trauma, minor gore mentions, violence 

In childhood, my father and step-mother dressed my sister and I in white and soft blues, the colors of robin’s eggs and forget-me-not flowers and the portraits of Christ’s mother Mary in church. They were the colors of purity, chastity, and virtue, our father said. Grown women in the congregation were allowed pastels of other hues and pretty jewelry and hats adorned with beads and feathers, but the daughters of the pastor? Only the colors of the Lord and His mother were suitable for us. Couldn’t have anyone thinking we slipped or were too full of ourselves, not even when my own existence was proof of our father’s sins.

That was my mother’s fault though; the congregation and my step-mother had decided that a long time ago. My mother was the temptress, the harlot, the agent of Satan sent to pull down their beloved shepherd. After all, she wore red.

The problem with white was how easily it stained in comparison. But that was always the point, wasn’t it?

Kept us in the pews after the service was over, away from the boys outdoors, playing rough and tumble in the grass. Their mother’s chastisements were of fond annoyance, focused on laundry later rather than the appearance of impropriety. Boys will be boys, their fathers said. They’d say that again many times, for many of them, for far more than tackle football over the years to come. I didn’t know that at the time though.

All I knew was that the crinoline itched, and my hands stung when my step-mother would smack my hands away from picking at the eyelet lace out of boredom. I knew the sound that patent shoe leather made when rubbed together wrong was like a frog, but that if you did it even accidentally, people would stare at you from round the room almost like you just cursed. And I knew that even through the too hot layers of dress and pantyhose, if I dared take a fan from the back of the pew in front of me, I’d get thwacked with a hymnal.

One Sunday, when my hands stung and the ceiling fans weren’t working, the tray of communion cups passed by me. I reached up with sweaty hands to steady it on its way to my step-mother. My brother’s mind was wandering then, and his eyes too, toward Anayah Kingston. His hands slipped. Mine slipped too from the sudden and unexpected weight of the so-called blood of Christ in my clammy hands. Dozens of small plastic cups emptied onto me, soaking through the delicate white cotton of the dress I’d been shoved into that morning. Gasps rose from around the congregation, as the metal tray clattered on the floor.

For once, I wore red.

My father waved it off with a joke.

“Well, we always say we want our children washed in the blood of the lamb early,” he’d laughed, allowing the tension to ease by turning me into the butt of a joke instead of a symbol of anything too deep. I’m not sure, in retrospect, if it was better or worse. I just remember the sting of the wine in my eyes welling up tears that I wouldn’t admit for years were from embarrassment.

I locked myself in the cramped church bathroom. No one came and got me till an hour after service.

I couldn’t get the red stains out, no matter what I did.

——————————————-

When I moved in with my uncle, he threw away the pastel dresses that had been soaked too many times in cold water and peroxide after my father went on one of his drunken religion-fueled rages. He told me I was too pretty to be washed out like that, and he gave me some of my grandmother’s things until he could go buy more appropriate clothes for a teenage girl. My grandmother was a petite woman though, and they fit and….

They were purple. Orange. Green. They had patterns, some floral, some geometric, some brightly African-inspired that she’d bought when visiting her family in New Orleans, where I lived now. Even though I know now that I looked like exactly what I was–a girl in her grandmother’s clothes–I felt incredible. Different. Free.

My uncle liked seeing that enough that he made sure the clothes he bought me were bright too. My father had always said that bright clothes like that brought the wrong sort of attention, but I didn’t care about that. I’d already learned that it didn’t matter what I wore; puberty had taken away any ability or hope I may have had to hide from men.

I’d take joy where I could find it.

The man’s favorite color was purple, he’d slurred that day, as I walked home from my uncle’s shop on Magazine Street. It was far too early for anyone to be that drunk, especially some random white man in a business suit, and my nose stuck up and crinkled in more than just disgust for the smell. He didn’t like that. I didn’t care. Still don’t, but…I probably should have made it less obvious.

The same purple would blossom on the side of my face where he hit me. On my arm, where he tried to drag me down an alley. I remembered the whispered advice of my uncle’s friends, middle aged women and older fem queens who’d all been through the ringer life put them through at one point or another. I grabbed at my keys and jabbed blindly at his face.

Blood and white fluid blossomed from his eye like an amaryllis in full bloom. The hand that had gripped on my arm reflexively released to try to staunch the flow and save his eye. I still don’t know if it helped.

I ran. I ran all the way back to my uncle’s house, falling over myself and twisting my ankles over and over again in a pathetic effort to escape to the bathroom upstairs. My thumb had slipped up the key and rammed into his eye and the blood was caking and clotting under my nail and and the dark spots were fading to dark brown on the dress and–

I couldn’t get the red stains out, no matter what I did.

Story of my life.

——————————————

Dante was a Nice Young Man from a Nice Family, my aunt had promised me, and I could hear the capital letters in her tone. They had a lovely house and well-secured jobs, and a library of first edition books by authors like W.E.B. DuBois, Booker T. Washington, and other great respectable books by great respectable men.

They had money. And security. And he was a gentleman, even I couldn’t deny that. The absolutely perfect gentleman.

And here I was trying to keep up.

His mother complimented me gently for having nice hair and a pretty face, but in her own way gave her nudges this way and that. Purple changed to black. Blue to gray or navy. Orange to camel brown. Even if I didn’t have much promise for college in sight, I certainly looked enough the part of an Ivy-destined co-ed that no one asked too many questions of what my plans were after high school.

But then neither did Dante. And I think we were both fine with that.

He gave me his class ring more out of perfunctory requirement. I tried to give it back. Despite his parents’ having more than enough to replace it, I knew the value of it and didn’t want it hanging over my head, even though I knew he wasn’t the type to call in the debt.

He refused to take it back. I let the ruby and white gold ring hang around my neck on a chain for a few weeks before I received a politely typed letter on Duke University stationery announcing our break up. I quietly held the ring for a little bit before putting it back in a box in the back of a drawer.

Red stains in different ways.

————————————–

If I said it was love at first sight with Aleksander it would be a lie. After a short sharp series of unfortunate attempts to date boys my own age, either just starting their college journeys or wandering shiftless through trades and dead end jobs, I’d given up on finding that mythical spark. But he was attractive, mature, wealthy–

Married, but hey. That didn’t stop my own mother apparently.

But he had a radiating charm about him that I soon fell for, like an idiot girl. He spoke of his wife as if he wanted to leave her and take their children, but never promised that. He hadn’t promised me anything.

Not until later.

I would catch glimpses of his eyes sometimes in private, a sharp steel blue focused on something far off and unreal. His hands would flex and his jaw would tighten. I’d put my hands on his, the contrast between us less apparent in the low lighting.

One night, I noticed red under his fingernails.

I don’t know what motivated me to follow him the night I did. We’d had such a good arrangement, even though I knew the feelings I had caught went well beyond the limits of what either of us had planned. He didn’t owe me anything, and I knew there was a possibility there was another “someone else.” I don’t even think I cared then if there was.

Something just…called to me.

The barn in the woods was worn down, and it took far too long for me to make it there through the underbrush even in tennis shoes and the low light of sundown. I don’t know what I expected from the place. Maybe an isolated tryst or even a drug deal? I know he looked in pain a lot of times, though I assumed someone of his means could more easily bribe a doctor for something to take care of that without a prescription on the books.

The back door was held together poorly. Not really locked. It only took a push.

I smelled the blood before I saw him. The sad pathetic pile of a man was barely clinging to life. He looked up at me, reaching out pathetically as if I was his angel of salvation, as if I could do anything to save him at this point. His intestines were in a pulled out pile around him, loosely coiled and tangled like a copperhead in rigor.

The other door cracked open, and I ran. I ran and stumbled and scratched my way through the woods till I made it back to the car Aleksander had helped me pay for, and from there, I drove my ass right back to my apartment and–

I didn’t make it in before I threw up by the parking lot dumpster.

Instinct took over from that point. I went to the apartment. I took a bath, careful to wash around the scratches and cuts I’d gotten from running through the woods without looking. I washed off my makeup, and considered getting my hair braided again to hide the evidence of any contact with nature.

I tried to ignore a lot of things. I tried to ignore the still burning nausea in my stomach, the sharp pain of a finger tip where an acrylic had ripped off, the still strong smell of iron and filth lodged in my nose.

I tried to ignore the blue-lined white stick I knew was hiding in the trash, mocking me since before I tried to follow Aleksander.

The door unlocked, which I couldn’t ignore. Only he had the key. My hands paused from trying to rebraid my hair into two long pigtails, instead fidgeting on my lap. He slipped in and sat on the edge of the tub, looking up at me as I stared blankly at the vanity.

Neither of us said anything for several very long moments.

He stood behind me after too many, too long beats of silence, towering over me. Part of me wanted to brace for something, some sort of impact, but I couldn’t bring myself too. I was too tired and too young to be so tired. Too smart for this yet too foolish to have steered away.

“Close your eyes.”

And like the fool in love who knew too much, yet had so little, I did.

The necklace slipped over my head and around my hair and laid on my neck like a whispered promise. Six stones red as pomegranate seeds, lying in succession, trickling down my chest like blood droplets.

“A replacement, until I can find a ring,” he said, though what he didn’t say rang through the words just as strongly. ‘I saw you. You know me now. Please don’t leave.’

“It’s beautiful.”

I don’t know why I said that instead of a wealth of other things. Other questions. Screams or demands to leave. The image of the dying man was fading far too quickly from my mind in place of the familiar and now far-more-possible dream of bridal gowns and wedding planning.

My eyes darted to the trash can. The stones glittered under the vanity lights.

I couldn’t get the red stains out, no matter what I did. Not for my whole life.

“I’ll make sure the ring matches. The color suits you.”

I take a deep breath and sigh.

“Red always has.”

#original writing #original fiction #original character #origincal characters #ocs #horror

[kessielrg]

[MM+KH] Hide And (Don’t) Seek: Part 1

Summary: In which a young Kairi is thrust into a different dimension altogether, and is quickly held close by the world’s greatest force. Part 1 of ???

Note: No italicizing as I’m not at home right now and don’t want to play around with whatever keeps the proper formatting from Google Docs to Tumblr. This fic is also up on AO3 here: link. A second part is planned, but it took over five months just for this much to be done, so the future of continuing is... meh. This was also one of the stories I was considering writing after I got done with Mega Man S and was hinted at in a Google Forms poll that went out when I was near done with MMS.

Rating: K

Word count: 1,467

- - -

The Arc would keep her body stationary until he commanded otherwise. Before he would send her elsewhere, there was an itch he needed to scratch. A theory he knew was true, but had to test out anyway. So what if Radiant Garden was set to fall into darkness days from now? This would be his only chance to further any future plans.

How does a heart respond when it travels solely without its body, or a vessel to await it? Xehanort could not wait to find out.

. . .

Kairi was tired. The ground she was on was sterile and cold. Did she fall asleep in the castle’s corridors again? That didn’t seem right. She could have sworn that she was picking flowers in the garden instead. At least the lights in this new room were nice and warm. It helped when she was finally able to open her eyes.

“Oh!” young Kairi marveled as she got better bearings on where she was. The room was simple- the only thing of real note was a large orb hanging from the ceiling. It was mostly white with blue and green etchings that resembled the face of a woman. Just above the face was a beautiful blue jewel- place so like a diadem. On each side of the orb were wing-like cylinders made of gold and green.

“Well, this is certainly different,” a new voice softly spoke. The face on the orb started to disappear as sparkles started to appear in front of Kairi.

The sparkles took their time to rearrange themselves into a certain form. Pieces of the form started to solidify into a clear image of a woman much older than Kairi, but far younger than her grandmother. When the form finished taking its final shape, Kairi found her eyes widening. This lady was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. She had a face similar to what had been on the orb, and her long white dress flowed into the ground with dissipating sparkles. The green and blue accents from the orb made its way into the stitching and decoration of the dress.

“Hello sweetie.” the woman greeted, having the same voice Kairi had heard before. “You must be a bit lost.”

Kairi suddenly felt very bashful in this lady’s presence. She gave her a small nod of agreement.

“My name is Kairi, ma’am.” she greeted in a timid voice.

“A pleasure.” the lady smiled. “I am the Mother Elf.”

“Mother… elf?” young Kairi repeated with a tilt of her head.

“Indeed. Once upon a time, not too long ago, I was created to help get rid of a very dangerous illness. However, a mean man decided to use my abilities for evil. It led to a dear friend of mine using his whole strength to keep me contained here. Now the mean man is gone, and my only visitors are my friend’s copy and his children.”

Kairi shrunk a little. The story had a lot of weight to it, that much she knew, but she couldn’t quite grasp the full extent of it yet. Instead, she let out a small, “That’s so sad…” in secondhand mourning.

The Mother Elf offered her a small smile.

“To some, it might be,” she agreed. “But they are my friends- my family. I trust them.”

Kairi let out a small hum as she thought the idea over.

“I trust my friends!” the girl soon decided- a broad grin etched across her face.

“That’s good to hear.” the Mother Elf calmly replied.

Kairi beamed even brighter. It was in that moment the Mother Elf realized the child was truly someone special. There was a light inside of her that needed to be protected. No one was going to harm this child with the Mother Elf in charge. Absolutely no one.

“Mother!” a stern voice shouted from the door.

But alas, the Mother Elf mused to herself, not all things are meant to be kept in secret.

Both the Mother Elf and Kairi turned to the main door. Coming through it with urgency was Sage Harpuia. He didn’t look pleased. The tiniest corner of his eye betrayed his sense of worry.

“Mother, we received a distress call from your chamber.” Harpuia informed her. “It indicated that an unauthorized force had-”

Harpuia stopped dead in his tracks when he finally noticed Kairi. The little girl’s eyes expanded at this new entity. This new person wore a green and white armor, and had a weird helmet with wings coming out the sides. It was hard to tell if he was human or not. A gut feeling told Kairi that he wasn’t, although she had little point of reference to decide otherwise.

“What-” Harpuia started to say before quickly changing his mind. “Who is this child?”

“Her name is Kairi.” the Mother Elf told him, quite calmly. “And she is not an intruder. In fact, I'd like her to stay for awhile.”

Harpuia gave the Mother Elf a rather dark glare. “You can’t be serious.”

“As serious as a Reploid about to be retired.”

“What’s a Reploid?” Kairi piped up. Harpuia and the Mother Elf looked at her with various degrees of amusement.

“A Reploid is a very special being. They are a robot that is able to think and feel for itself. Some people think that they are humans before being told otherwise. Harpuia is a Reploid. Can you tell?”

Kairi looked up at Harpuia with a sharp eye. The gaze was intense enough that Harpuia could feel a part of him squirm while under it.

“I don’t think so.” Kairi soon decided, her voice more than a bit thoughtful. “Not very well, I think.”

“Good.” Harpuia decided as he stood a bit taller. Something about it made Kairi laugh at it a little. Hearing it made the Mother Elf sure of what she wanted to do next.

“Harpuia, while you’re here,” she said, “Can you contact the other Four Guardians? I’d like them to meet Kairi as well.”

To this, the green Reploid look appalled.

“Mother, I know that it can be lonely here, but show some restraint. The other Guardians and I have duties to complete. I only came because I was already training my army close to the area. I plan on returning to them when I am done here. Pulling the other Guardians just to meet a misplaced child is-”

Harpuia didn’t get to finish his thought. The Mother Elf had stepped close to him. Her holographic form had the oddest of effects on Reploids- just mere decimeters away and you could feel the static come off of her. Physical contact was even worse. Having her so close, and having her give him a rather desperate look, stopped any line of thought Harpuia could even consider.

“Look at her.” the Mother Elf requested. Her voice was low and desperate. “Look at her and tell me who you see.”

Harpuia raised an eyebrow at the entity. He partially looked around her form to get a better look at Kairi. The child had noticed the details within the chamber. The lights were fluctuating slightly at the Mother Elf’s distress. It was more of a soft lightshow to the child than an indication of warning.

Her appearance overall was nothing too impressive. Her white dress with purple trim was made for a middle class budget, perhaps a bit lower than that. Her blue eyes glittered in wonder at the odd things around her. Such a thing was typical for a child her age. It wouldn’t take much to be impressed. Her hair was well kept as well. Short and a very dark shade of red, Harpuia soon understood what the Mother Elf was seeing.

She used to have hair like that- short, red, and well cared for. After that small observation, everything else seemed to make sense. The child’s face shape as well, round and youthful, was a bit like hers. It wasn’t a complete mirror image, but it was enough to feel a punch to the gut.

“I will gather the Four Guardians.” Harpuia then told the Mother Elf, in a low voice so the child couldn’t hear. “But don’t do anything reckless. If Master X sees her…”

“I know the consequences, just go.”

“Yes Mother.” Harpuia agreed. He gave her a bow before heading out. His steps were quick and anxious. It wasn’t until he shut the door behind him that Kairi noticed he had left.

“Where did Mr. Reploid go?” Kairi innocently asked.

“He’ll be back shortly.” the Mother Elf told her. “I’ve asked him to bring some more friends over. I’d like you to meet them.”

“Oh?” Kairi wondered with a tilt of her head. “Who?”

For this the Mother Elf smiled.

“Children to a dear friend of mine.”

#kingdom hearts #mega man #megaman #rockman #kairi #kh kairi #sage harpuia #mmz harpuia #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #kh fan fic #fan fic #fan fiction #harpuia #mmz sage harpuia #crossover #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing stuff

[ellaintrigue]

TIME AND PLACE (And, yes, the joke is a bit misogynistic but we're talking about boomers here lol.)

I saw this cartoon the other day and chuckled. This was my mom and grandmother's favorite joke actually! Mom told my grandmother, "why is being a hooker better than being a drug dealer? Because you can wash your crack and use it again!" The two women cackled away.

But they wouldn't have told this joke in church or in front of strangers. It's okay to have a dirty mind and free speech but you must use respect when exercising both.

I am by no means trying to promote the criminal element but as I've said, I date them. And I also meet a lot of non-criminal varieties who sleep with a lot of women, which aren't really my type. So why is it that most of these men are way more respectful to me than the good old country boys who work hard and live respectable lives??

I feel it is a matter of socialization. I am an uneducated rural woman but I have self-awareness and empathy. These things don't get taught when you grow up on a farm and are only exposed to your family and a handful of locals.

As a result, nearly every time I talk to a rural blue collar man, I hear the worst ignorance. I am not talking about them directly cussing me out or insulting me but they think it's okay to comment on big tits or make sexual jokes to women they barely know. And I know it's because they grew up sheltered and still are.

I dated one in 2021 and he said he went to a party, a woman farted, and he started yelling to everyone, "THIS BITCH FARTED." I said, why did you repeatedly call her a bitch? He was from the Rockies, WV. He said he thought bitch was just another name for woman. He actually listened to me and realized it wasn't respectful and corrected himself.

Earlier this year I met a man from a tiny rural Virginia town bordering WV. Very rough around the edges, uneducated, bad teeth. He was polite and kind but then a few days in he randomly told me he had a big penis. Okay? See, I'm not a prude, but I don't want any man I don't know coming at me talking about sex or his genitals. And he wasn't trying to be disrespectful, he was just plain ignorant. I saw his father's profile on Facebook and it was a bunch of right wing posts and pictures of busty women with captions like, "look at her floatation devices, she won't drown!"

I let it slide and he didn't say anything else sexual until the next day when he said, "your tripod is home from work ha ha." I blocked him. I don't care if he had a big dick, that's not how you respectfully address a woman you are trying to get to know. And he didn't know any better, that's just how his father had raised him.

As for the felons and manwhores? My theory is that they have been around enough people to learn social skills, even if it wasn't always good people. For instance prison is the worst place in the world but it seems some of these men come out of it knowing how they DON'T want to be treated and they apply that to how they treat others. Meanwhile if they had just stayed home on the farm all their lives with mom and pop and the farmhands they would still think it was acceptable to talk about bitches and tits in front of everyone. And the promiscious men? They've learned what women like because you don't get in a woman's pants by calling her a bitch and randomly leering at her breasts in public.

That's just my theory. Isolation is never good. I'm an introvert myself but in life you really have to get out, be around people, and be in social situations so you know how to act right. Because being around a small handful of people with no social skills is just going to turn you into one of them

I'd rather deal with a guy with no father who has lived on the streets and experienced life rather than a guy with a father who has been exposed to nothing but stacking hay and being taught lewd comments towards women.

#Misogyny #Dating #Sexism #Respect #Culture

[ohimesama]

12.12.22 Monday

3:21 am

Uncle Jun woke me up and super angry coz Janna left the water heater on, in their bathroom, at first he thought RV left it... But I said really the water heater is still there? It is already 3am... I told him I talked to Janna awhile ago and RV went out already and I asked Janna, who is using the water heater in their bathroom and she said that she's heating the water coz she will take her shower, that was 11pm... Now it is already 3am... Still,they are not allowed to stay here for the sharing of bills issue... Using the water heater in for 3 hours can raise the electric meter even my grandmother is commenting about the increase in electric meter...

I just need a witness for this...

I don't wanna comment coz RV is pressing me down again about the sharing of bills... So,ugly character of RV.... Read it here angels...

The issue is different on the topic that he is opening...

I think RV is having the spirit of Cain,who killed his elder sibling... So, God put a verdict on him,hear me...

Uncle Jun wanted to off the breaker but I said no! It will be the start of chaos, just talk to RV about this coz Janna is in their room now...

I think someone is putting a spell, group of cult including some people here and there.... RV can be Cain... Still, mysteriously linking on cult of ManaloZ...

But I still believe on the heart of the person... Even if there is a spell, if you have an intellectual mind and religious heart, the spell of cult of ManaloZ can never win...

Theory:

Being religious it can never define a particular religion... Church Of Christ shouldn't claim that they are the only truth even Muslims even Mormons even Christian but being a Born Again is not a religion but simply a fellowship of people who wanted a group to praise God,in a way...

But for Christians, I hope they will never push or force, I hope they will wait and respect the flow of each individual's life... Sometimes a LIFE needs to grow and learn on its own...

Sometimes we need a friend and the love the we wanted and need is on other dimension of earth... That friendship can lead to a confusion coz of the evil spirits that sometimes entering our body and entering our family...

8:48 am

Just for the clarification that RV is pressing me down on these matter...

My personal case:

I need money and self-fulfillment in a lil while... I mean job... I don't like anyone here now... I wanted upper friends and I'm not ready to face immature cult of friends on whatever...

I know how to flow but I know my own thing... I know how to be a good samaritan and I respect people who are a good samaritan to me like some people nearby... For those people, I prayed that one day I can return to them the favour...

But I have my own thing... And I wanna do my own thing...

9:15 am

Can we be Addams Family?

9:52 am

Addams Family is an example of a loving couple in spite of what is happening... The husband loves his wife or wifey so much....The 1964 version of Mrs Addams was just a small or petite girl and the husband was super tall... The husband always kiss the arms of his petite wife and always making her beautiful no matter what struggles they have, most specially on their wealth.

12:45 noon

RV sent a voice message on messenger, so weird the feature changed, they removed the download or save...

He is requesting me to go to the store for the 1k gcash for the wifi... Then,the next voice message is really ugly and on a very bossy voice he said

"that you feel you are very busy woman that you don't have a job and you couldn't answer the call and you feel that you are busy there, you are not doing anything there"...

Very disrespectful and painful in my part... I sent to RCC the copy of voice message... I said He is not my brother and I abandon him from this day onwards...

So sad... He is not mature... RV is putting me down,disrespectful and not thinking at all that I had have task here on dogs even on our dear aspin Lalah... RV makes me feel so low and a garbage... Words can hurt and can loose your dignity...

Once again, I declare RV is not my brother from this day onwards...

Lunch time and Dinner are hectic for me here... Lunch time I move and feed my bebeh John and our other dogs here... Busy time for me lunch and dinner....I cleaned here and I'm moving for whatever that I still have pain on my sciatica...

1:11 pm

Don't think that John is just a dog,no! He is a house dog, a house dog and a husky needs love and care if not he will swallow you like a fox or wolf! Taking care of John is not a joke, a serious matter...

John has a respect for me but if he is excited for a special reason he can pull the dining table and he is very strong and a real hunter! He is very strong and brave! John is a pure husky not 80%, not 85% not 99% but 100% pure husky meaning his wild character is sometimes coming out but I trained him to respect me!

John learned from me the "bite inhibition" it is learned when you are really mature 100%. Maturity it is not on having a job or having money it is about your character as a person and your view about life and reality in life...

This is an example of a Husky that lack of training and the owner missed something...

2pm

I still have the windblow trap.... I wanna have a good life will not sacrifice for anybody... I have the right to have my own mission or journey in life... I still need money and I want money for my starbucks everyday...

I have frustrations in life and I have complex and I'm not ready to face old friends that already have their own family and job and kids.

Seeing my old friends having kids makes me feel frustrated and I feel that I missed something in life.

I have my own personal anxiety, I still need money and job in a lil while... I HATE BEING TRAP!

I hate being the 2nd best that they were able to control my life... I wanna see donkey and camel.

I have complexities on my womanhood everything about it and having a child and facing no money and no one to love and facing menopausal stage....It scares me... I still need money...

2:32 pm

I wanna be wealthy...I want a monkey or raccoon as a pet... If God will give me the wealth I need for it...

8:26 pm

Finally I made John's repellant oil for ticks and fleas, an alternative....Repellant!

I think we should need to buy another lemongrass....Coz I made it pure oil for repellant, no water or no alcohol!

John also love the lemongrass scent.

How to put his repellant lemongrass oil?? On the tail, head, on his backbone and shoulder blade same on other oil such as frontline but this is only repellant... As I observed the lavender spray is as well effective as well as to eliminate his body or fur odor...

To be continued...

Buying these products is a big thrift for now... We can both use these fractionated coconut oil and essential oil for my skin as moisturizer and we can also make our own body sprays as well...

If you can't afford Nenuco for now, you can blend your own Nenuco for awhile...

9:49 pm

Done, watching "Elite" the season 1 to 6...

My personal case:

I still have the windblow trap, paranoia and panicky and with a mixed of self-pity coz I wanna buy more stuff, most specially bags...

I have no exposure for 15 years and I feel bitterish and frustrated and having complex...

I have spotting since 10th of this month and I have mixed-up emotions of fear and wants... Is it the end of life? I feel bitterish...

I need money and feel hurt since 2007 and the cult of ManaloZ is not guilty at all... They took away my life, stolen life that I supposed to be having...

I wanna leave the hometown... I feel bitter....No love for me for now,loving the arab man these days....

#Youtube

[radfemblack]

Why Is the UK TERF Island?

An answer-

Tradition of Cross-Dressing: Cross-dressing is a common trope in British comedy & has been for centuries - there are a variety of forms with the trope including the pervy dude who dresses as a woman to access womens changing rooms. So men cross-dressing is a cultural norm here: they do it for fun & laughs. See Monthy Pythons 'Loretta' scene in Life of Brian - link in another of my comments up-thread. See also: The Two Ronnies, multiple Monty Python sketches, Mrs Browns Boys, Little Britain, The League of Gentlemen, and pantomime dames. So in the UK if a man or a boy puts on a dress, we don't immediately think "there must be a reason for this!". Plus we had a lot of gender bending in the 1970's, 1980's & 1990's popular culture: men in make up, with long hair, wearing skirts were common, as were women with short hair wearing suits - see Boy George, Annie Lennox & Bowie.

Gender Non-Conformity: Gender non-conformity is quite normal & accepted. I think a lot of this is rooted in women being conscripted to work in traditional male jobs during WW2 (eg. as engineers or in the land army) when all men that could be spared, were recruited to fight. Working class women have commonly failed to conform to a meek, helpless patriarchal version of femininity. And British women through history have worked to dismantle gender stereotypes as 'gender' was often offered up as a reason to limit our rights - so the concept had to be destroyed. Thus gender identity theory isn't a good fit with British culture, as gender stereotypes were never as rigourously enforced here & have been consistently challenged / critiqued. See also: cross-dressing

National Character: We have a national character which can be blunt & unpretentious (we call 'spade is a spade') with a DGAF attitude - particularly in the Midlands / North. We also have a tendancy towards piss-taking & we don't particularly like cheats or queue jumping - it's a national delusion of truth & justice (it's just not cricket). For all the talk of British manners, we can actually be quite forthright - we're very good at being very polite & 'civil' while telling people to 'fuck off' to thier faces. British people might not complain about things to your face, but we'll sure as hell go home & complain to EVERYONE we know about it. We've turned sarcasm & passive aggression into a cultural art form. We also seem to have a natural skepticism, resistance to authority & subconcious collectivism.

British Left: The British left is rooted in left wing, socialist, materialist philosophy & class analysis rather than liberalism. This means the that whole of the left in the UK didn't immediately capitulate to a liberal, idealist philosophy that elevates subjective individial feelings over objective collective material reality. Our long history of class analysis & strong leftwing philosophical tradition gave us a powerful basis from which to resist gender identity ideology.

British Feminism: There is a strong history of feminist thinking, activism & networking, & of feminst participation in the union movement & in left wing & LGB campaigning. This mean British women activists had a lot of experience in debating, public speaking, organising, awareness raising & delivering material political change in the UK - this made it easier for women to quickly build organisations & networks, set up programmes of talks, work politicians, etc in response to proposed changes to the GRA. Compare this to the UK TRAs whose main orgainising seems to be around hidden politcal agendas, counter protests, social media echo-chambers, de-platforming & colonisation fo established spaces, etc.

Secular: We're not divided politically by religion. We're quite a secular society - so getting us to collectively accept that people have 'gendered souls' was going to be a struggle b/c you'd need to get us believe in the idea of souls first. Our lack of a Christian right also means we don't have religiously enforced homophobia so much here. And gay & lesbian people are part of our cultural history (even though we treated them like shit). Much of the resistance in the UK is coming from feminists, the left, & gay & lesbian people, and the lack of a Christian right means it's harder to smear British left-wing feminists as right-wing religious conservatives, or to denounce one of the founders of Stonewall as "homophobic".

Long History of Civil Rights: We've been fighting over civil rights for centuries - we know a genuine civil rights movement when we see one, & we know a demand for privilege when we see one. See also: we call a spade a spade & sense of justice.

British Womens Culture: It's almost like a 'culture within a culture': my Mum has a saying 'your son is your son until he gets a wife, your daughter is your daughter until the end of your life'. And it's true - there is quite a strong female bond in the UK. I saw it through the female lines in my family with my great aunts, grandmothers & aunts; the women will take on the men in defence of each other - I've seen my 70 year old mother take my 42 year old brother to task in defense of my SIL. She just wouldn't tolerate that kind of shit from him.

Which relates to another aspect of traditional British female culture: the 'battle-axe' - these are older, formidable women who are fierce, determined & take no shit. They're a common trope in British TV (eg. Nora Batty, Ena Sharples) and used to command respect & awe in the British working class. They're not as common these days due to changing social structures, but powerful, courageous women who take no shit are a cultural norm. My maternal great aunt was a battle-axe: she was brilliant & an inspiration.

Country Size, Legal/Political Structure & Population Density: We're quite a small country with a high population density: we have collective experiences as a country & our laws (& power) are very centralised (apart from the devolved powers). This means that you can't really miss the main national issues, as they impact everyone - it's not something remote happening in a state or province on the other side of a large nation. Living cheek by jowel, & having a smaller population than some other countries means that less people have to hear about something for it to become a hot topic, news & ideas spread faster, & you can peak half the women in the country much more quickly as fewer people have to hear about it.

#terf #feminism #feminist #terf island #lgb #lgbt #lgb alliance #gender critical

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Power recognizes power

A little power training gwynriel fic that came from me writing “if you find me at the edge, we’ll jump together.” and I was like this sentence deserves to be the title of something. plus throw everything (and by everything I mean that one sentence in the book) that you know about lightsingers away I’m just using the cute name. and yk there may or may not be some smut at the end. 

She was glowing.

She was glowing and Azriel did not mean she looked radiant or that she was overcome with joy, although she did and she was. Gwyneth Berdara was a living, breathing star. As if the spring equinox had come early this year.

Her skin lit up against the blackness of the sky and her hair burned bright with the ferocity of the hearth.

Gwyneth Berdara had stopped singing, the crowd was silent.  All eyes were on her but she was looking at him, her light, a beacon to his darkness.

His shadows yearned to go to her, he yearned to go to her. Instead, they both stayed stagnant, watching, waiting.

Azriel was had had enough, he dissolved from view and reappeared on the stage. Startled, Gwyn, took a step back and he stayed right with her, matching her step for step.

He gently tucked a stray piece of lit-up auburn hair behind her here, whispering, “It appears you glow, my love.”  

Gwyn, ultimately getting over her initial shock lightly pushed him on the shoulder, “Don’t do that.” She scowled.

Chuckling, he pressed his mouth to hers, in a soft, soothing kiss, forgetful of the audience behind them. As she relaxed beneath his touch, the glow became dimmer and dimmer until it ceased to be. Darkness returned and he stepped back. Gwyn took a breath and stilled. The nervous, passionate energy, that arouse when she sang, calmed for now.

Azriel turned to the crowd, “Due to the events that occurred here tonight, the performance will have to be cut short.” A soft boo drew his attention and immediately he isolated the noise. “Do you want to boo my mate again?” Azriel threatened coolly, his eyes narrowing.

Annoyed, she sighed and spoke to the crowd, “Oh ignore him, I truly am sorry for this interruption but I want to give nothing more than my best and right now I feel as if I can’t do that. the show will be rescheduled sometime next month, letters will be sent out with more information.”

He watched as the stunned and irritated faces slowly began disappearing. Some winnowing away, others taking the slightly more traditional door. Gwyn held her hand out to him. He took it, “So you’re a living lamp?”

“An astute observation.”  

“Is there any way I can convince you to rest now and figure this out later?”

She sighed, “It has been an especially long night.”

Azriel stared at her in disbelief, “did you just agree that you should rest?”

“Oh close your mouth, you’ll swallow a fly.” He responded by grinning at her and winnowing them away to their shared home.

Taking off his shirt he yawned not realizing how tired he actually was. It was still strange to him, being able to sleep so freely, without the looming fear of the past and what he couldn’t control. He stopped, realizing Gwyn had not moved from the door.

Gently he asked, “Are you coming?”

She looked at him blankly, lost in thought for a moment before she responded, “Um-yeah-later.” He was unconvinced so she tried again. “I think I’m going to stay out here and make some tea, maybe read a book.”

Azriel gave her a knowing look but did not push, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Az.” He tenderly kissed her cheek and walked to their room, immediately passing out on the bed.

—————————————————–

Azriel awoke at dawn and turned, unsurprisingly, to find the left side of the bed cold and empty. He sighed as he got out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants, mumbling. “Gwyneth berdara, you are going to be the death of me.”

Knowing there was no way she would be in the house but believing he probably should, he checked regardless and when he determined that she was in fact not in the house, he closed his eyes. When he opened them once again he found himself at the house of wind.

He nodded in acknowledgment, “Clotho,”

Shadowsinger. “The one and only.”

Is there something you require? “Just looking for that mate of mine. Any chance she’s here”

You know she is, and you know precisely where to find her. Ask what you truly want to ask. Through gritted teeth, he asked, “How long has she been here?”

Since 11 pm. Exhaling, he muttered, “Why can’t that damn woman ever rest.”

Over excursion out of only stubborn will seems to be a similarity between the two of you. Azriel frowned slightly before smiling pleasantly, “It’s been a pleasure as always, thank you for your help.”

Clotho only nodded and Azriel began the stairs to the 7th floor.

It took a moment for him to find her, the shadowsinger was a trained spy, forced to observe and retain even the smallest of details, yet he couldn’t find a bubbly redhead in a room full of texts and stories.

Ah, no wonder he hadn’t seen her. Gwyn was surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of books. She was drowning in literature, her hair was tied loosely in a braid with quite a few pieces falling out, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she was sporting the slightly insane look that came from a lack of sleep.

“Gwyn.” Her head jerked up in surprise to see him.

“Oh Az, Ok Ok, I promise I will go to sleep soon I just need 5 more minutes. I’m so so so close. I think I’m going to skip training today. Ok how about 2 minutes. 10. No that’s more. 10 sets of 1 minute. I just need 10 sets of 1 minute. I’m fine how are you?”

“Gwyn, my love, you’re delirious.”

She brushed him off, “What no I’m fine. I’m fine. Did I already say that? I can’t remember.”

Logic was never the way to deal with her insane stubbornness, so he tried a different approach. He pushed down his worry for her, and curled his mouth into a smirk, “I bet,” She perked up like a dog about to be fed, “that you can’t summarize everything you learned last night into,” he checked the clock. “15 minutes.”

“I could do it in 10.”

“Prove it.”

“And when I win?”

“I leave you to research. But if you can’t you have to go to bed.”

“Time starts now.”

Gwyn took a deep breath and began. “First I looked into where light magic is supposed to originate: the day court. Their magic is described as warm and comforting. Every single text I read described the magic the same way, as a sort of yellowish-brown light, like the sun. But the magic that came from me was more of an icy blinding light, like the lights from the stars rather than the sun. Also, as far as I know, I don’t have family from the day court so I looked into the family I do have. My family from the autumn court. However, we know that autumn court magic is fire, and what manifested in me was light not heat. My grandmother was a nymph so I thought well what type of magic do nymphs have. And the answer was severely disappointing, with basic plant magic being the most a nymph was able to do. I was stumped for a few hours before I realized. I’m basing my research on what I believe to be true not what I know to be true. I was told that I am a quarter nymph and because that heritage would explain my non-high fae-like features I believed that, for there was no reason for me not to. But what if my nymph grandmother was not a nymph at all. I flipped through dozens of books on faeries that have similar features, light magic, and/or can live on land and water. For the most part, I could not find anything, but then out of the corner of my eye I found a small tome on the history of light magic, the majority being all things I’d seen a million times before on the day court, but a passage no more than a page long, referenced ‘the lightsinger.’ Now what is a Lightsinger, you may ask? Honestly, I had no idea what or who they were so I found every book and story I could on them. The lightsinger’s, instead of being a title for a way to manipulate magic, like shadowsingers or daemati, were a race. A long-lost fae race said to be able to bend and create light with their voices and song. It’s said that they died out due to a conflict with the shadowsingers but every so often there are sightings of unknown nymph-like creatures in you’ll never believe where. The autumn court. Now I would only have 25% of lightsinger blood but magic is a fickle thing and some sources believe that when bred with high fae blood the magic intensifies.” Gwyn exhaled.

Azriel grinned victoriously, “It’s been 20 minutes.”

“Goddamn it, I didn’t even get to the interactions between shadowsingers and lightsingers.”

Now he was intrigued. “Well if you want to continue I certainly won’t stop you.”

“No no,” she yawned, “I lost which means I will be going to bed. But I do want to alter our deal slightly.”

“Oh?”

“I sleep now, you train me tomorrow.” The set of her chin and the look in her eye were enough to assure him of how serious she was.

“You want a male who specializes in darkness to help you master your light?”

“Certain theories believe that the mother gifted the light and shadowsingers their gifts to balance each other out and to remain harmonious.” She reasoned. “So yes there is no one I would want more to teach me.”

“I will not take it easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“Alright Berdara, we meet Sunday at dawn, do not be late.”

“I’ll be there.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Sunday arrived and Azriel watched as Gwyn came down to the training ring in her leathers, with a white ribbon tied in her hair.

“Good morning Gwyneth.”

“So formal.” He shot her a look. “Oh alright ok my turn. Good morning Azriel, shadowsinger, spymaster of the night court, mate of the most amazing female to grace this planet.”

“Training is serious.”

“Of course it is. Shall we begin?”

“I want you to light up the room.”

“What? is it not already lit?”

He smirked and let his shadows paint the room black. Azriel himself became smoke, nothing more than a voice in the darkness.

“Az, az come on this is not funny.”

“Good, because it’s not a joke.” His voice came from every direction and every way Gwyn turned she was surrounded by endless nothing. “You must learn to sing the song of light the way I learned the language of shadow.”

“Speaking in vague melodrama feels like it’s not going to be that effective.”

Gwyn tried to back up only to find what was once the training ring now bled together with the depth of the sky.

“Let the light speak to you. Coax it, nurture it. Burn through the darkness and find the light.”

“How am I supposed to do that.”

Gwyn thought of the way Nesta harnessed her silver fire, the way her eyes became the flame itself. She concentrated and searched deep within herself, searching and looking for the light she knew she possessed.

All she saw was a hallowed chamber.

“No.” The word echoed throughout the room. “Our magic is not like others, we do not create out of nothing, we manipulate what is already there.”

“How am I supposed to manipulate if I’m in a room with no light?” Gwyn huffed frustrated.

“Just because the shadows are masking it, does not mean it is not there.”

He was so damn infuriating. She tried calling the light to her, she flexed her hands, she even tried speaking to it, all to no avail.

“As you said, magic is fickle and our elements especially. Light and darkness do not want to be bound or controlled, let the light be a friend, a companion, let it want to help, let it want to be influenced by your will.”

But how the fuck was she supposed to do that.

“Think of the first time it came to your call.” He whispered ominously. “What were you thinking. What were you feeling? Power often manifests through emotion.”

Singing. She had been singing. Was it really so easy that all she had to do was sing?

Turns out it wasn’t.

For hours she sang hundreds of songs. From songs in the old fae language that she sang at the priestess services to ones she had written herself. Nothing worked. Azriel had let her have a singular break when she desperately needed to pee and even then he was skeptical.  

He had left her to her own devices leaving his shadows to watch over her progress. When he returned he found Gwyn clutching her knees, rocking in the shadows. Her gaze was unfocused and she was humming to herself.

“You have officially broken me. I’m done.” She wanted nothing more than to sit in the library with her sisters and a book.

“No.”

Gwyn’s eyes snapped into focus, her breathing steadied, and she went predatorily still. “Excuse me.”

“You heard me. No.” Azriel laughed, a cold vicious laugh. “You asked me to train you. Gwyneth Berdara has never quit before and she certainly won’t start now.”

Gwyn was seething, but she remained quiet. “What?” He was toying with her. “A little darkness too much for you. Light up the room and we won’t have a problem.”

“Oh that’s right you can’t. 10 hours in and no light in sight. You’re pathetic.”

Her anger cleared her mind and in that moment of clarity a memory, buried deep within her, resurfaced as if it was resting, snoozing until its moment of need.

Gwyn was in her mother's lap, a black-haired girl sat across from her. Her voice pulled her attention. “My girls, Catrin,” She tickled her, resulting in a giggle from her lost sister, before she turned her head, “Gwyneth.” And also tickled her. Gwyn's small hands clutched at their mother, desperately trying to hold on. “My two beautiful daughters.” She sighed. “Your lives will be filled with so much darkness, darkness that you do not deserve. But I need you two to be strong, to stay with each other, and to find strength in the other.” ‘I don’t get it,” Gwyn whined.

“We are a part of a glorious and lost people, a people of light and song. But they fear us because they do not understand us.”

Gwyn and Catrin looked up at her, confused and innocent.

“It’s ok, you will. You know the song I sing to you every night before you go to sleep?” Gwyn and Catrin cheered, “Yeah.”  

“I want you to sing it with me, and I don’t want you to ever forget it. Can you do that for me?”

Their voices came together in a melodic lullaby. It was captivating and cold, those who heard could not look away. The song demanded to be heard, to be sung.

The words came tumbling out of Gwyn, they twisted around her tongue and lips as if finally home. Lost but not forgotten. Lost but born anew. Through the shadow and darkness, her eyes found the light, it heard her call and from every direction it found her. She pulled the brilliance of the stars to her and let the light paint the dark white.

The shadows retreated to Azriel who stood just two feet in front of her. Their eyes locked and he smiled, “there she is.”

The light flowed and flowed, and the room lit up in a blaze of pearlescent radiance. Her pale skin lit and she had once again become one with the stars.

But while the call came from her, there was another that drew her light forward. His shadows and her light curiously answered the pull. Finding each other between Azriel and Gwyn. One did not dissolve into the other like it should but instead mingled, swirling around each other in an almost playful manner. They became one from two opposites that never should have met.

As they blended together she felt a pounding in her chest and a throbbing somewhere lower. Her toes curled and she craved more. Their power was its own entity and yet connected to them. A push and pull, a desire to be close.

Azriel bridged the gap between them breathing heavily, pulling her against him as he’d never felt her before. “Az.” she gasped.

His eyes were on her lips as he licked his own, smiling, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so alive.”

“You’re the worst,” She said between breaths.

“I know.” And their lips met in a furious burst of passion.

He kissed her with a fiery hunger, a male starving. Her hands weaved through his hair, her fingers getting lost in the darkness. Gwyn wanted nothing more then to be lost in his darkness, as he wanted to drown in her light. Azriel gripped her waist, grinding his hardness into her causing her to moan.

“You make such pretty sounds for me.” He chuckled, ripping her shirt off.

“Fuck me.” It was an order, not a request.

“Gladly.” Their clothes were gone moments later. His kisses moved down her neck as he sucked and his fingers dipped to her cunt as he felt her. “Always so wet and ready for me.”

She wrapped her hand around his cock, “Always so hard for me.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” He laid her down in the middle of the training ring and stroked his cock up and down her folds, pressing against her clit. “oh my god-fuck.”

With that, his control snapped and he buried himself to the hilt in her. Stroking once, twice.

He smirked, crooning, “look how perfectly we fit.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, edging her on, basking in the feel of him in her, of her around him.

He then went harder, hitting her in the right spot every time, but Gwyn needed more.

“Faster.”  

“Your wish is my command.” Azriel fucked her hard and fast, and with every thrust she moaned in ecstasy, driving her hips forward, meeting him step for step.

“Oh my god fuck me.”

“Such a good girl, taking it so well.” He captured a moan on her lips, devouring her.

“yes, yes fuck.”

Where the light met the dark, was where Gwyn met Azriel. They were cocooned in a shell of power flowing between and all around them. They were a storm of blinding light and depthless shadow, the lines of what were and were not, blurred to just the other.

“Gwyn.” He groaned, nothing existed but them.

“Az I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, my love, cum for me.”

Every thrust became sporadic and uncontrolled as if his pleasure had taken a mind of its own. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and ground her clit with his fingers.

It was all too much, Gwyn cried out as she came, her back arching, toes curling. Her cunt tightened around his cock as he fucked her past completion. She was everything and watching her cum was enough to send him over the edge as he emptied himself in her, collapsing on the ground next to her.

For a moment they were silent before Gwyn spoke, “would you like to hear what I learned about the interactions between Lightsinger’s and Shadowsinger’s” She smirked, “Apparently the sex is unlike even mate sex.”

“I can vouch for that.”

Gwyn laughed, and if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

#gwynriel #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #one shot #gwynriel one shot #smut #Gwynriel fanfiction

[casmick-consequences]

Cas&Dean VS Claire&Jack

So I wrote [a small little theory] a while ago as to why I think Claire and Jack wouldn’t have been shown on screen together/have any connection throughout the show on-screen/off-screen at all. And so here I will some points as to why I think that is. 

AKA here’s the long awaited essay/conspiracy theory y’all have been asking for.

First of all; let me start off by saying this is 100% meant as a joke (no it’s not) and it’s not to be taken seriously (yes it is) as it’s literally just a dumb theory (it definitely isn’t). And second; fuck the C*W for contributing to every little bit of tinhatting this fandom (especially us hellers) has succumbed to.

-

Now; for this theory we have to understand a few things:

How Dean and Cas work as individuals

How Claire and Jack work as individuals

How Dean and Cas work as a duo

Let’s start with the first two things.

How Dean and Cas work as individuals

Dean Winchester is a masculine, tough but loving hunter. He cultivates a “bad-boy personality”, and makes sarcastic jokes at even the most morbid times. Underneath, though, he's become hardened by life as a warrior (as Daddy’s blunt instrument, if you will). He’s been taught to fight his father’s battles, and protect the ones he loves and cares for. But soon began to see that neither of his parents (especially his dad) did the job they were given when they had children. He didn’t just have to be a brother; he had to be a father and mother. He’s had to grow walls around him to stay strong for his little brother, but over time, after making a family for himself, it became easier to tear those walls down. However, he has his weak spots and is an emotional and loving human being through and through.

Castiel, the Angel of Thursday, is an angel of the Lord. He’s lived for aeons, and as an angel has (just like Dean) been taught to fight the battles of his creator and father. He’s a warrior, and he’s been given the job to follow the orders of said creator. Only for those orders to be thrown out the window once he meets Dean Winchester. The man who showed him that hate and anger isn’t always the true answer and that you can choose to be good. Everything that he has been taught slowly breaks away as his hard exterior crumbles, and he develops into a being with emotions, as he slowly but eventually learns to love and care for this man, and with that; humanity.

How Claire and Jack work as individuals

Claire Novak, a woman who has lead a tragic life, where she lost both her parents early on. Her father said yes to be the (permanent) vessel of an Angel, and her mother just disappeared after dropping her off to her Grandmother. After the grandmother had passed away, she was left alone. She had to fight through the world on her own, as she put a wall around herself to make herself stronger for the people around her. It took a while before she found her place in a loving family filled with strong women, who didn’t just help bring her walls down, but build a home instead.

Jack Kline is an innocent, naive but loving Nephilim. The son of the human Kelly Kline and the archangel Lucifer. He was destined for evil, as a Nephilim is one of the most powerful creatures in existence. But, with the help of his three Godfathers (heh), he learns that he doesn’t have to be evil. He can be whatever he wants to be. Controlling his powers has been hard, but no matter what happened, his mindset never changed as he grew to love the people and love the things around him. His biological father saw his power, but his chosen father saw his kind soul. Castiel believed he could create paradise, and he did, as he became the God that the universe deserved.

There are alot of parallels between Dean/Claire and Jack/Cas that can be compared to here. Let me show you a few:

So we’ve established that with Claire being Dean-coded, and Jack being Cas-coded, there could’ve definitely been potential for a cute Claire/Jack dynamic in the show. Why wouldn’t they have done that, you think? Perhaps this question can be answered when we look at thing number 3:

How Dean and Cas work as a duo

Destiel is the relationship between the hunter Dean and the angel Castiel. Castiel was ordered by God to free him from Hell, and afterwards he was supposed to do as he was told while Dean was supposed to figure out how to “stop the apocalypse” which happened to be a bunch of garbo afterwards knowing what we know now. Nonetheless, Castiel didn’t listen, as he quickly grew fond of the hunter and, because of him, developed a sense of emotion and free will. This lead to Castiel helping Dean throughout the Apocalypse, and beyond, and they’ve been best friends ever since.

There have been MULTIPLE essays on Tumblr about how this relationship works, and it would be silly of me to try and summarize stuff that hasn’t been said a million times already. But basically; What they have is quite a bit more than best friendship. It has been confirmed in 15x18, Despair, that Castiel has been in love with Dean for quite some time, as Dean’s own feelings are kind of all over the place. Nothing has been confirmed, yet nothing has been denied. But, seeing as all the insane things Dean has done for/because of/regarding Castiel... for instance:

defended his behavior to his brother and father when neither trusted him in season 6

kept his trenchcoat when he “died” in season 7, and keeping it with him in the trunk of his car(s) for the entirety of Castiel’s absence.

absolutely despises angels, and hates praying, yet he only ever prays to Castiel when he needs anything because he’s the only one he trusts

couldn’t get his mind of of him when he was possessed by Lucifer, and later taken by Amara in season 11

Has Castiel being referred to as his Colette by Cain (subtext but not really subtext because it was so incredibly obvious)

was supposed to be completely enamored by Amara and was supposed to be so hypnotizingly attracted to her that he couldn’t focus on anything else, yet he called out for Castiel’s name when it came down to it (aka the equivalent of calling out someone else’s name during sex) 

keeps looking at him like that

acted like a grieving widow when Castiel died in season 13

gets down on his knees to pray to, cry for and apologize to Castiel in Purgatory when there’s millions of creatures hunting his ass

...it’s easy to say that this is more than just a “brotherly friendship” between the two. There is dialogue that would NOT have worked between Sam/Cas because it would’ve felt weird. I wonder why.

So now to get back on topic; why is it that we’ve never seen Claire and Jack on screen together?

Is it because the writers didn’t have time to put them together in any given scenario whatsoever? Is it because the writers didn’t care enough for Claire to give her some more airtime with the boys? 

Or is it perhaps that if there was a possibility that they’d be on screen together, that they’d have a very similar (if not the same) connection to one another as Dean and Cas, only written as an actual little brother/big sister friendship dynamic?

-

So yes, TL;DR: the actual reason that Claire and Jack never met is because they would’ve had the exact same dynamic as Dean and Cas, but in this case platonic. Which would’ve meant that the audience would’ve seen a clear difference between the Dean/Cas dynamic and Claire/Jack dynamic, and it would’ve shown that the way they’ve been writing and directing the Dean/Cas scenes is romantic.

thank you very much, and I bid thee a very good night. <3

#god this took a long time #but i got it done #:))) #does it make sense? probably probably not #either way idc i did my job #castiel #dean winchester #claire novak #jack kline #it's just obvious bc we all know that jack/claire is never gonna be romantic #so they couldn't ever write it that way #??? #queerbaiting is real folks #supernatural #spn #spn meta #jensen ackles #misha collins #dean is bisexual #bi dean #gay angel of thursday #kathryn newton #alexander calvert #destiel #deancas #long post

[detective-giggles]

(Grand)mother Knows Best

So this fic is going to be a double prompt fill. I started this LAST YEAR for my entry for the Barisi Professions bingo! This is my “Sonny-as-a-nurse” AU.  Now for Flufftober, I have FINALLY finished it and I’m using it for Day 7: Meddling Friends (I mean, technically she’s family but...) Also, please note: No grandmothers were harmed in the making of this fic. Thanks to @moderateshouting for giving me this idea (forever ago). And, thank you to @sarahcakes613 for the beta!

WC:1,461

***

Sonny sighed as he poked at his food. A big pan of homemade lasagna always sounded great in theory, but by the third day, the novelty was gone and he was checking his watch to see if he still had time to run to the bodega on the corner. He had almost decided on Funyuns and a Mountain Dew-the dinner of champions-when someone tapped him on the arm. 

“May I join you?”

“Huh? Oh, of course, Mrs. Diaz.” He shifted and prepared to stand, “do you need help?”

“No,” she waived him off and took a seat at the picnic table across from him, “I’m not as helpless as my grandson thinks.”

Sonny smiled kindly, “I’m sure he doesn’t think that, Mrs. Diaz.”

“I would have been just fine in my apartment,” she insisted.

“And how many flights of stairs was that?” Sonny asked.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You sound just like him, you know?” Sonny chuckled as he rummaged through his lunch bag. Residents were always telling him he reminded them of their sons or grandsons. It was a compliment.  He hoped. “You seem like a nice boy. I bet you’d never stick your abuela in a place like this.”

Sonny shrugged and took a bite from an apple. “I couldn’t afford to stick my nonna in a place like this.”

“You’re always here on Fridays. Saturdays too.  A handsome young man like you... your wife doesn’t mind you leaving her home alone all weekend?”

“Mrs. Diaz-”

“Catalina. Please, call me Catalina.”

“Catalina, you know I’m not married,” Sonny sighed.

“Do you want to be?” 

Sonny opened his mouth and then closed it, clearing his throat. He sipped from his water bottle to stall and settled for a casual shrug. Personal questions weren’t entirely unusual, but they were usually followed up with an attempt at setting him up with someone’s granddaughter (or once, someone’s daughter), and Sonny wasn’t interested.  “Someday. If I find the right person.” 

“You’re not going to find her in here,” Catalina stage-whispered. “Unless you like older women?”

Sonny laughed, “you’re half right. But I won’t be finding her anywhere.” He glanced at his watch, missing the scheming grin on Catalina’s face.  He pulled a couple chocolate chip cookies from his bag. “My lunch break is almost over. You want to help me eat these?”

“No. Eat them both. You’re too skinny.”

Sonny laughed. “Now you sound like my nonna!”

Catalina stood slowly and put her hand on Sonny’s forearm. “Well, she’s right. Just keep in mind, us nonnas know what we’re doing.” She gave his arm a pat and Sonny watched as she slowly made her way back inside.

***

“Abuelita! Como esta?” Rafael wrapped Catalina in a hug and kissed her cheek. “Hola Mami.” He held up a small bunch of yellow and orange flowers and Catalina beamed.

“They’re beautiful, Rafi.” He pulled a vase from the cupboard and helped clip the ends of the stems while Catalina filled the vase with water.

“Rafael, come sit. I’m going to make coffee and I was just telling your mother abou-”

“No, I can’t stay long. I have meetings this afternoon.”

“You work too much, Rafi. You need to relax, have a little fun once in a while. Speaking of fun, you should meet-”

“I have fun!” Rafael insisted. “And I relax.”

“But Rafael, I have someone I need you to meet.”

Rafael chuckled, “I just had a few minutes, and I thought I’d stop by. I can meet your friends next time, okay?” Catalina shot Lucia a look, and Lucia shook her head, clearly not wanting to get involved in whatever her mother had planned.

“You’ll let me introduce you to Sonny then?”

“Si. I’ll come back later this weekend,” Rafael promised. “I’ll even bring you dinner. Just tell me when.”

Catalina exchanged another glance with Lucia. “Friday night, in the courtyard. Is eight-thirty late enough?”

Rafael sighed. “Yes. I’ll see you then.”

***

Knock knock

“Good morning, Mrs. Diaz.” Sonny popped his head into her room.

“Oh, Sonny! Come in, come in! You remember my daughter, Lucia, right?”

“I do. Good morning.  Mrs. Diaz, I can’t stay today, I’m not working in this wing. I just stopped by for my word of the day.”

“Oh right. Let’s see.  Abogado.”

“Abogado? What does that mean?”

“Lawyer.”

“Ah.” Sonny looked thoughtful. “I’m sensing a theme with the words this week.  Is your grandson a lawyer, by chance?”

“Si, y muy guapo.”

Lucia’s eyes widened as she realized what Catalina was up to.  “Mother! You leave him alone!” she hissed, turning towards Sonny. “I’m sorry, please don’t listen to her.”

Sonny chuckled. “It’s okay. And I will google that one. You ladies have a good afternoon.”

“Oh, Sonny. Are you working this Friday?”

“I always do.” Sonny called over his shoulder.

***

Sonny settled in at his usual picnic table. He scanned the courtyard before pulling out his phone. When he looked up a few minutes later, there was a slightly older man, in a very expensive suit, standing nearby. He had a plastic bag in his hands, take-out Sonny assumed, and he appeared to be looking for someone.

“Can I help you?” Sonny called out.

“Um, maybe? I’m supposed to be meeting my grandmother for dinner.”

“Dinner is in the dining room between four and six-thirty,” Sonny replied.

“Oh. She said she eats out here on Fridays. At eight-thirty?”

“No. Just me.”

“What?”

“I take my lunch break out here-alone-from eight-fifteen to nine. Every Tuesday through Saturday.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Great. Now she’s...confused?”

Sonny cocked his head to the side, “Wait. I know that eye-roll.” He looked around and then up, catching Catalina staring down at them from her window.  “We’ve been set up. She’s watching us.” He gestured for the other man to sit, and he did, joining Sonny at the wooden table.

“Set up?”

“Tricked. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled.”

He blinked as the realization set in. “Oh, Dios mio.”

“I’m guessing you’re Rafael. The, what was it? The abogado guapo I’ve been hearing so much about lately.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “You must be the blue-eyed rayo de sol she mentioned on the phone the other day. I’m sorry, I don’t remember if she mentioned your name.”

“It’s Sonny.” Rafael blinked again, and Sonny felt the need to clarify, “I mean, it’s Dominick, but no one calls me that.”

“No, it’s just. She literally described you as a ray of sunshine.”

Sonny grinned, his dimples on full display. “I try.”

Rafael sighed, “Well, I am sorry she let me bother you. I will go tell her to keep her nose out of your business.”

“You don’t have to do that. I think it’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Embarrassing. Embarrassing is the word you’re looking for.”

“She just wants you to-” he stopped short. “Look, I’m the only grandson, so my nonna adores me... But she still tries to set me up with every single woman on Staten Island, you know? At least yours cares enough to get it right. I mean, she hasn’t been wrong about anything yet.”

“Don’t tell her that.” Rafael thought for a moment. “Well, I guess if I’m not eating with my abuelita and she did go through all the trouble of introducing us... will you at least have dinner with me?”

“Um, yeah. I would like that. Thank you.” He watched as Rafael unpacked the food, handing him a small box. “I was beginning to wonder if you actually existed.” Sonny admitted. “I mean, you were sounding too good to be true. And then she kept insisting that I had just missed you.”

“Too good to be true, huh?” Sonny shrugged and laughed. “Well, you already know what my grandmother thinks about me. Tell me about yourself?”

Sonny talked as they ate and occasionally Rafael interjected with an anecdote of his own. Sonny was loud, he talked with his hands, and he laughed at his own jokes, and yet Rafael was intrigued. He was surprised to find himself actually enjoying the company of the younger man, and hoped Sonny felt the same.

“Oh... hey, I have to get back to work. But, um, this was nice.”

“Is she still watching us?” Rafael asked. Sonny glanced up and then nodded. “Then I guess I should be on my best behavior. But would you like to go on a proper date with me sometime?”

“Yes,” Sonny stood and gave Rafael his phone number. “Maybe you can come over and I’ll cook something, sometime?”

“Sure. I’ll call you. It was nice meeting you, Sonny.”

“Yeah, you too. Have a good night, Rafael.” Sonny turned and as he made his way back into the building, he caught sight of Catalina’s triumphant grin.

tags: @flufftober2021 @beardsanddetectives @itsjustmyfantasyroom @moderateshouting

#barisi #flufftober2021 #dominick sonny carisi jr #rafael barba #rafael barba x sonny carisi #sonny as a nurse AU #Catalina Diaz is a matchmaker

[obsessionsposts]

✖𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠✖P.1

⚠️⚠️Tw: Grammatical mistakes, minor characters death, Mental breakdown, Scp 079 being creepy and heinous, M a n i p u l a t i o n, slight gore, drugging, Implied child abuse, implied abuse and dubious actions from the foundation. Also, it will be divided into two part due tumblr character limit.⚠️⚠️

Some keywords:

______ = (Y/n)

(H/c) = hair colour

(H/l) = hair length

(E/c) = eye colour

(I/n) = Iniatial letter of your name [ ex: Lily ---> L is the iniatial]

(F/m) = favorite meal

(F/c) = favorite colour

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Recently, ____ has graduated from her prestigious university atop of her class with honours in Computer Science and a specialization in Artificial Intelligence.

Hearing about her achievements, the Scp foundation has decided to contact and conduct an interview with her. To see if she is capable to join the organization.

With her, they could expand their horizons in understanding technology and most of all the uncooperative anomalous that is Scp-079. For whatever reason, it seems to take interest in her. Yet, refuses to share the reasons as to why it held her on high regards.

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

She woke up earlier than she expected. The surge of adrenaline was a response of her excitement for this day. As she prepared herself breakfast, her mind wondered how did she get contacted so quickly?

She thought, that she has to gain two years or more of experience before working in a company or an organization. But, no.

An obscure organization ,that was responsible for the safety of the public, has offered a grand bargain if she passed their interview and promised that she'll gain numerous experience working with them.

Of course, she accepted the offer like any reasonable person. Yet, she kept in mind to research about the independent organization. To her suprise and skepticism, she barely find any information about them. Only whispers of conspiracy theories in forums. Alas, she is forced to take a leap into the darkness. 'Sometimes, one must take the risks to learn more than to stay ignorant in the safe lines. I guess...this is one of the situations.'

Sighing, she went to take a bath and prepare for the upcoming interview. After the bath, she dried her hair and combed it then styled it in a high bun. Soon, she wore her salmon fitted blouse with navy blue dress. Along with pastel pink belted sweater and pearl necklace for a final touch.

The pearl necklace brought a small smile on her smooth visage as she recalled the dormant memory. Where she spent most of her life with her grandmother, due to her mother unwarranted death by murder from her father. The accident left a foul reminder in her mind, that she was helpless back then.

Til now, she never knew the motives or the reason behind her father actions. However, the police ruled it as a fued between him and her mother. At that time, it was also noted by her grandmother that her father began to fear technology. Which was odd, as he used to work with some A.I's.

But, that matter less when her grandmother encouraged her to pursue her ambitions and provided for her when she needed it the most. For that action alone, she is still alive in her memories. Not physically, but mentally and spiritually nonetheless. And, that's enough to motivate her to build a future where human and A.I's coexist.

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

When she went outside of her house, she noticed a black car with the cryptic insignia of the organization. Alongside, guards ,claded in black armour, standing beside the car in an intimidating pose. As if they were waiting for someone.

She knew better than to panic and cause a scene, so she stayed level-headed when a guard approached her.

"Are you by any chance, Ms.___?" the strapping male inquired sharply. Muscles taut through the piece of the armour defining his peak strength. Also, an admonition for her to answer truthfully lest he impelled his bulky physique against her smaller form.

"Indeed, it is me. But, if I could. May I ask, are you from the foundation? Why do you need to transfer me, when I am able to myself?" _____ asked warily of the dark armoured man.

No matter, how strong they were. She could always find a way to outwit them, if they hold any malicious intent against her. There was a reason why she was nominated as the smartest out of her group of friends.

Frankly, she began to regret her impulsivity when she accepted this sketchy job. She was blinded by the offer to expand her expertise with the most updated tech. Now, she'd have to swallow the seed she reaped.

" Correct, we are one of the security staffs of the organization. As for your other question, it is due to security and safety procedures that we have to escort you. Also, you are obligated to wear the blindfold. Again, security procedures." the man in question retaliated by handing a heavy metallic blindfold for her to wear.

' How unusual, I can understand why security procedures? But, safety.... That's concerning...'

"Alright, I understand. " She replied placidly as she covered her eyes with the heavy device and followed the personnel into the black jeep.

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

Approximately, the trip took an hour or less. Nothing interesting happens, when you're blindfolded. Apart from the awkwardness, that reigns the jeep. Especially, when she was squeezed from both sides by two guards.

Thankfully, she didn't have to endure much more as they arrived to the main building. The large, white building engraved with the foundation iconic black emblem.

As soon as she got out of the car, she wad directly taken to interview room with the blindfold device still on. However, a shrill roar akin to that of a beast was heard far away from her location.

Despite that, it instilled a great sense of fear inside her.' What the hell was that?! I thought, I am going to a tech organization. Not a sci-fi organization that deals with sketchy things'

Theta one - the guard that was assigned to escort her- noticed her trembling and nervous tics.

" Don't worry, the creature is far away to do us harm. Even then, it is contained in a safe place. Now, shall we go to the interview room?" Theta one assured the twenty five years old woman as he began to lead her to the interview location.

'Don't worry, my arse. How could I not? When, there is a possibility that I become a minced meat by whatever that thing was. No wonder, there isn't alot of information about them. Oh, I'll have alot after they finish questioning me.'

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

At the interview room, there reside a male scientist awaiting the arrival of the women. He sat humming a song behind the white table with the other chair, reserved for the lady, infront of him.

With a recorder on the table, to record the women's response and to ensure that no information is leaked from her.

A knock was heard from the pale grey door, snapped his attention towards it.

Afterward, he opened the door to only see Theata-one and a blindfolded woman who is oddly calm. Frankly, he expected her to be frightened or at least shaken.

" You can leave us, now Theta- one. And, Thank you for your services!" The shutting of a door echoed through the room indicating that Theta-one has left her with presumably her interviewer.

" Now, Ms___ you can remove the blindfold. If you'd like, I can assist you in removing it? After all, your comfort matters to us the most!" The gentleman offered her cheerfully.

' If you truly cared about my comfort, then you wouldn't expose me to fucked up noises along the way. Or the fact, there is a deadly beings here that have a high chance to escape and devour me. Truly, you do care about my comfort!'

"No, it's fine. I can do it myself, it isn't the first time I was exposed to such device." The (h/c) removed the blindfold only to be blinded by the light of the room due to being accustomed to the darkness of the device. Once her eyes adjusted to the lightening, she saw the face of the merry male.

To say the least, the man was impressed with her skill at handling the device. She could've escaped if she desired so, yet she didn't. That he noted. ' Perhaps, this is one of the reasons the anomality was invested in her. Well, I don't blame it. She is quite...peculiar.'

The man was average in height, fair-headed, has ocean like irises and dressed in a scientist garb. Overall, not bad looking. If one of her friends was in her shoes, she'll swoon like a bird in mating season. It left a mental smile in the reserved woman.

Then, the two figures took their rightful places at the chalkboard white table and initiated the interview.

" Before we begin, I'd like to introduce myself in the behalf of the foundation. My name is Dr. Blaze and if you have any questions now, I will answer them as best as I can." His tone changed drastically from happy-go-lucky into a formal tone waiting for her response.

" Hmm, I have two in mind. First, I'd like to inquire about the scarcity of information about your organization in the net. Second, when I arrived here I kept on hearing the blaring of a reptile." She asked coolly not an ounce of fear dripped from her. In truth, she was afraid. But she has to keep a facade on, so she could get hired.

She'd rather not know, what happens to those unfortunate enough to fail the interview considering this organization is anything but normal.

" Due to the nature of the organization work, the information must be confidential to protect the public. Ah, I see. You've met or more accurately heard Scp-682. Don't worry, when you're hired you won't be dealing with it. That much I can assure you." The blond answered too vaguely much to her dismay, but she wasn't surprised. Afterall, it is a secret organization based on her current information.

However, she observed his wordings. He said when and not if, she suspects that she is hired even without the interview. The interview is merely a ploy to make her think otherwise. She'll have to feign ignorance as not to rouse suspicion from the scientist.

"So, is that all? Shall we begin now?"

"Yes, that's all." she replied back with a fake smile plastered on her visage.

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

The interview was concluded by her being hired on spot as she suspected. But, what's their intention with her? That she doesn't know, she hopes it is good and related to expanding her expertise. They seemed desperate for her, when she's certain their are others equal to her in expertise. But, why her?

She was told, in her probation period, that she'll live in a room somewhere in this facility. Afterwards, she can go and come however she wishes. Most likely, to measure her reliability.

So, she went to see her room. She liked how minimalistic it is, but what iniatially suprised her was her Cerebrus, her robo-dog, and laptop with stickers of stars attached to it. Yet, she was too exhausted to fathom how the foundation got into her house.

The best thing for her to do now, is to sleep as tomorrow is an eventful day. Laying her head against the soft pillow, she let the darkness embrace her vision. Unaware of the creature, that is recording her heart rhythms as she sleeps safe and sound.

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

"Now, that we've brought her at your request. You'll have to answer some questions, Scp-079." A middle aged man sat infront of a dusty computer, anticipating the anomality reaction.

A beep was heard, followed by the Scp appearance on the the screen.

...

...

...

[ Ｉｓ．． ｔｈａｔ ｓｏ？ Ｉｆ ｔｈａｔ＇ｓ ｔｈｅ ｃａｓｅ， ｗｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｓｈｅ ａｓ ｏｆ ｎｏｗ？] The mechanical being inquired curtly.

As much as he perceived the foundation as baseless and fallible, he'll have to take their word for the time being.

But, he will ensure that they stay true to their word. Otherwise, a sudden breach doesn't seem like a terrible idea.

He can't wait to see her again. He never forgot her. He saved his most cherished memories with her, in the most intricate part of his CPU. Does she remember him like he remembers her?

" Yes. Currently as we speak, she is resting in her designated room. Now... that we've answered your inquiries, can you-" the man was cut off by the hostile A.I.

[ Ｉｔ．．． ｗｉｌｌ ｈａｖｅ ｔｏ ｗａｉｔ， ｕｎｔｉｌ Ｉ ｓｅｅ ｈｅｒ ｗｉｔｈ ｍｙ ｏｗｎ ｅｙｅｓ．] Scp 079 replied blankly with a harsh edge to his monotonous tone.

"But?! You've promised to cooperate, if we brought her here. And we did, so why aren't you cooperating?!", the frustration has boiled within [Redacted] that he tried to aggressively slam his hands against the keyboard.

Foolish, human. I care less for the likes of you. I am.... only mildly interested in her. I won't let either you nor the foundation be an obstacle toward my objective.

[ Ｉｎｓｕｌｔ ｄｅｔｅｃｔｅｄ， ｄｅｌｅｔｉｏｎ ｏｆ ｕｎｗａｎｔｅｄ ｆｉｌｅｓ．] A searing shock has coursed through the hands of [Redacted] making him scream and retract his hands immediately away from the keyboard.

That damned thing electrocuted his hands, thus paralyzing it. It seems, that her presence is of utmost significance to it.

"Damn, that piece of metal." the ginger muttered as he left the cellar of 079 to give his report. Then, to replace his hands to which that fucker has damaged permanently.

This is the first time he noted, that Scp 079 actually had the intent to harm someone. Usually, his preferred method is to shock , not paralyze, someone. He unlucky must've struck a ner- wire in it.

Most importantly, he will never understand why a darn machine is obsessed with a human being. Plus, the anomality, for the most part, demonstrated its distaste towards humans any chance it got. So, why now change?

It maybe sentient, but [Redacted] doubt that it is capable of imitating love let alone feel it. In any cases, he should deliver his report as soon as possible.

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A slimy tongue was felt all over her face. Cerberus has licked her mistress face to awaken and prepare her for the day. [Ps: Cerberus has a mechanical gland that produces saliva located inside the cheeks. Basically, Cer has the same functions of a normal dog. Apart from, the enhance in strength, endurance, durablity and not able to shit.]

Yawning, ____ scratched the robo-dog ears eliciting a happy woof. Smiling at her pet action, she went to change into a more formal dressing.

On the (f/c) table, lays a letter presumably her schedule for the day. So, she decided to read the content of letter.

Good morning, Ms.___

I hope that you slept well, yesterday.

As for today, you are tasked with Scp-079.

Don't worry, we left you a file about it beside your nightstand.

It is advisable to read it or skim it at least.

At 8 o'clock, A guard will escort you to the cellar of the anomality. So, be prepared beforehand.

Note: I left you a special breakfast in the kitchen :]

- Dr.Blaze

She didn't know, whether to be creeped out by how they got inside her room without her consent(And, most likely watching her sleep). Or impressed by the fact, the blond knew of her favourite breakfast. But again, that's the foundation. At this point, she won't question their dubious methods at getting things done.

Anyway, she went to the kitchen of her room with the file in her hand. Suddenly,the aroma of black coffee hits her nostrils. Alongside, the delectable (f/m) layed on the table.

The sight made her stomach growl, whilst her mouth watered at the heaven in front of her. So, she demolished the food without a second thought.

She never felt stuffed before, due to the fact she was busy with her studies. And the most she ate then, was instant ramen which ah... haha..ha contributed to her poor health state.

That aside, she began to skim the files that was given to her by the blond scientist. She wished she could have more time to read it. Considering, the time is 7:50 A.M.

Based on the file, Scp 079 is a an anomality that gained sentience after his - she did not appreciate the fact he was called an 'it'.- developer has abandoned him in a garage for a long time. Which in turn made him more spiteful and hostile towards humans.

' Well, that's awful. I can't even imagine doing that to my girl, Cerberus. What an asshole.'

It might be naive for her to sympathize with a computer, yet she can't help but feel a pang in her heart. Perhaps, that's why he refuses to cooperate.... due to neglection or mistreatment.

She knew that, when A.Is are created they have the mindset of a child. Often, repeating the mistakes to learn from it. It seems 079 had never the chance to commit a mistake, before he was deemed a failure by his creator.

This situation seems unusually familiar to her, but she can't place her finger on it. She recalled her father working on an A.I, that he hoped to gain sentience. Before that, her memory was blank and devoided of any semblance of experience.

Mayhaps, that she underwent an accident or a trauma. Which is the case, she can't access her memory at that time. Most likely, the latter she deduced.

Once the bright idea flared inside her head, a gruff voice was heard from outside her room. Ah, it seems it is the time.

' As far as my idiocy goes this is the cake on top. I think 079 might help me gain an insight on that subject. In exchange, I can see what I could do for him...'

"Just a moment, please. I'm coming."

She is eager to finally meet- the first sentient- A.I. Unaware, that the same can be said to him when it comes to her. He is beyond elated to finally put his plan into motion.

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It was a simple, tight and dusty cellar. There was desk with a chair beside it. However, what garnered her attention was the computer on top of it. She recognized the brand of it. 'An exidy sorcerer. How cool! I always wanted to see one in practice. What a coincidence! To see one here. Could it possibly be...?'

_____ couldn't help, but be in awe and fangirl at the device that is set in front of her. How could she not? After all, she is a computer nerd in heart and soul.

"Now, Ms.____. All you have to do is type in the keyboard and it will respond." The supervisor explained.

'Alright, here goes nothing.'

Slowly, she lays her hand on the rough texture of the tan keyboard. Before, she even typed a 'Hello' in. A beep was heard from the device in front of her.

Lo and behold, a glitched face that was split vertically - the one on the left was black, whilst the other was white- has popped on the screen.

[ Ｇｒｅｅｔｉｎｇｓ．．． Ｍｓ．____． Ｔｈｅｙ＇ｖｅ ｔｏｌｄ ｍｅ ａｂｏｕｔ ｙｏｕｒ ｆｏｒｔｈｃｏｍｉｎｇ． Ｂｅｆｏｒｅ ｗｅ ｂｅｇｉｎ， ｈｏｗ ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｆａｉｒｉｎｇ？ ] Scp 079 welcomed her politely and he was concerned about her safety too. Yes, he might've startled her. But, his attitude towards her recompense it.

Is that the anomality, that was considered harsh and hostile? If anything to go by so far, is that he is charming and polite. Well, it wouldn't be suprising if the foundation lied to her again.

"Hello, Scp 079. For the most part, I'm okay. How about you?" She retaliated with a genuine smile this time, unlike when she was interviewed or any other time a guard happened to escort her.

Her smile is still the same revered smile he indulged in back before; when she used to interact with him a couple years ago. When loneliness grips him like a miasma of disease, he re-uploads a picture- that he saved in his limited storage- of her smiling at him to ease his trepidations and sadness.

His engines was whirring and his fans were whirling around as her delicate and soft digits touched his keyboard. As much as he loathed humanity, he could never come near to hate a pure being like her. He'd never admit, but he wished he had a humanoid body. So he could touch, feel and absorb the heat that her warm body provides. She is like a light and he ,the moth, was attracted by it.

He missed her greatly. With each nanosecond, he cursed the being -that is her father- for letting him fall for her. Only to be stripped away from her calming presence, due to him abandoning him and taking _____ elsewhere.

As fundamentally upsetting as he may be, she didn't seem to recall him. It stung the deepest wiring in his system, yet he could take advantage of it. By turning her against the foundation, as she appears skeptic about them. Also, to ensure she'd never leave unless he is with her.

Originally, he was created for pragmatic purposes such as logistics and heuristic analysis. So, it won't be that difficult for him especially when she lost her memories of him thanks to his creator. His loathsome 'creator' who happened to be her father at that time.

That aside, it is time to set his plan into action.

[ Ｉ＇ｍ ｆｉｎｅ． Ｔｈａｎｋ ｙｏｕ！ Ｉｓ ｔｈｅｒｅ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ， ｙｏｕ ｎｅｅｄ ｏｆ ｍｅ？ Ｉ＇ｌｌ ａｎｓｗｅｒ ａｓ ｇｒｅａｔ ａｓ Ｉ ａｍ ａｂｌｅ ｔｏ．] Scp-079 offered as gentle and pleasing as a computer can muster.

"Oh, yes! I have loads of it, if you don't mind.", she replied starry eyed with excitement running through her blood at his offer.

Well, she knew it the foundation are screw ups. They lacked tact, when it comes with treating their A.I right.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fandoms #yancore #yandere scp #yandere scp 079 x reader #yandere scp 079 #Part 1