#i think he’d be emotional about the loss of art that people put lots of work into & which other people love and want to find | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inhonoredglory · 3 years

Text

ROTT: hot takes 🔥 (spoilers)

I wrote the following last Thursday, before my fandom life was waylaid by birthday shindigs for my sister and a weekend of migraines and nausea/fainting because of the COVID vaccine. I feel so out of touch w/ fandom but here’s my late but initial thoughts to ROTT if anyone’s interested LOL

––––––

DAMN SON.

DAMN.

I saw Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans last night. Before I launch into the fandom again, I’mma share my unfiltered thoughts.

ThAT oPEnING. HOLY SHIT. It was exhilarating. Seeing all of Tales of Arcadia rush past me in 3 minutes was awesomesauuuuuce.

but guYS GUYS lemme tell you the

✨✨ABSOLUTE✨✨

✨✨✨UTTER✨✨✨

✨✨✨✨✨HIGHLIGHT✨✨✨✨✨

✨✨✨✨✨✨of MY LIFE✨✨✨✨

////oh gODS////

hearing Douxie say in that deep, grave, convicted, voice:

❝ ｂｕｔ　ｔｈｅｙ　ｃａｎ　ｔａｋｅ　ｍｅ ❞

DOUXIE MY SELFLESS WIZARD BEAN. LIGHT OF MY LIFE. I’M DECEASED.

Because it’s scenes like this which convince me they KNOW that Selflessness Is His Thing. And that means so freaking much to me OH MY LORD.

Act 1 of ROTT was an absolute delight, let’s just say.

Men in Black!Krel

Nari!Douxie (i cANNot beLIEve THIs is a THING im in tears)

THE BARBARA/JIM REUNION!!!!!

A FREAKING STRICKLAKE ENGAGEMENT!!!!! Jim/Strickler relationship growth arc 😭😭😭

Y’ALL WE GOT JLAIRE SITTING ON A FLIPPIN’ RED ASS BED. This is the closest we’re gonna get to sex in a kid’s show.

NOT COUNTING OFC THE INSTA-STAJA-FAM CONCEPTION

should I be scared that GDT is reading the totally wack corners of mpreg AO3??!! 👀👀👀dude, like DUDE. that happened.

ELI GLOWUP !!!!! damn son u hot

also aja is such a Queen in this whole thing omg

I obvs can’t go scene by scene through this thing but––

Douxie and Nari in P A I N during the spellbreaking scene. that hurt my soul oh lordy. there must be art made

OK but then after this SHIT GETS VERY REAL. There’s a lot of Character Thematics/Arcs and Real Narrative shit I can get down into and stuff I want to think about because yEAH... wow, this movie Went There. And Back Again. (lOLJSKGSg)

I appreciate the deaths. I really do. But Strickler was a shock. Jim holding onto his mom and crying, overwhelmed with guilt, was the most Jim thing. The boy puts so much agony on himself. It’s his undoing. gAH POOR JIM.

CAN WE MAKE A NOTE THAT JIM’S RIBS WERE BROKEN/HURT throughout this entire thing??? 😭😭😭 HMmm? HMMMM!!! LOOK AT THE ANGST

Claire shadow-porting an eNTiRE TITAN. This girl is OFF THE CHARTS SJGHSBKGJMNFSBG

Nari’s death was emotional. Wow. She was being a Hero. Not running, like she said. That was a Power Growth and beautifully scored. Not to mention archie trapped forever?!!! Nooooo?!!!

They really want to take everything away from Douxie don’t they.

Jim getting Excalibur and leveling up with Akiridian armor was pRETTY SWEET. Especially ✨together✨. And everyone saying the Destiny speech. *tissues*

Act 3 finale babbaaayyyy.

CHILDREN OF THE SUN REDUX OMSKGJSGGMN HELL YEAHHHH

Jim realizing the amulet didn’t make. him a hero, HE DID. And that’s why the amulet chose him.

y’all I sobbed for tobes. that was powerful, painful, and moving. and y’know it was almost like this whole movie was an apology for treating toby like a comedic sidekick––and giving him the trollhunter mantle in the end.

like THEY VALIDATED JIM AND TOBY’s FRIENDSHIP and that cANnNOt be underestimated. Because friendship is almost ALWAYS knocked down the ladder of importance in the pantheon of human relationships, and ROTT said NO. Jim loves Toby so much that he’d change his own history and the history of the ENTIRE WORLD in order to get him back.

like, Jim, our sacrificial Hero. Deciding to truly be Atlas and take all the weight of What Could Have Been on his shoulders, because he cannot stand the losses that happened under his leadership.

this kiss tho. the absolute ANGUISH in the way jim presses himself to her face. gOD. THE PAIN. THE LOVE. THE “I LOVE YOU”

––––

The whole time travel twist tho. I’m kinda... not here for it?? Time travel is tricky to pull off and yeah, I think I’m in the camp that everyone’s character arcs (except Jim’s) have been retconned. It’s sad because people get connected to one another by the shared pains, joy, and experiences that brought them together, and now they’ve lost that.

But thematically and more importantly, why can’t the acceptance of death be validated? Sure, so many people dying was painful, but Let. It. Be. Painful. That’s life. TOA hasn’t shied away from dark things before. Toby and Strickler and Nomura and Nari (even Archie and Charlemagne) gave their lives; Toby became a Hero in the truest sense of the word. Let him do that, let that choice be his. In fact, it says a lot thematically about Jim’s hero complex that he cannot accept other people making heroic choices with tragic consequences. That it’s all on him. But with this ending, they do make it clear Jim’s need to be a hero is a driving obsession, and I appreciate the strength of his conviction on that identity for himself.

But the thing about retconning the anguish is that it’s telling us that bad consequences, tragedy, and loss are unacceptable in life. That just because Jim and his friends need 10 years of therapy, he should try to erase all that pain and give himself and his friends a “normal” life. No. Depression, loss, hurt... these help make us who we are; growth is about accepting them and using that pain to become better people, not invalidating them from our past.

*grumbles*

let’s be real tho: that ending was meta. it was like they were telling us fans that now WE can go create the Trollhunters we wanted to see, and fix all the things we thought went wrong. I think someone’s been reading a bunch of Trollhunter AU fics, no?

tl;dr ROTT creates more questions than it does answers and we need another show LMAO

#trollhunters #trollhunters rise of titans #rott #rott spoilers #toa #tales of arcadia #jim lake jr #douxie #claire nunez #*mymeta #*mythoughts

106 notes · View notes

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Finding A Light

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff

A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!

Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.

It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.

His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.

The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.

It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.

The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.

Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.

He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.

It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.

Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.

Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.

Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.

“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”

Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”

Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”

Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”

He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”

Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”

Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”

Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”

That’s all he can manage to say.

The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”

—

Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.

He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.

He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.

The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.

The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.

His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.

It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.

He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.

When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.

“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.

“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”

His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.

“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”

He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.

“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”

He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”

You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”

He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you’d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”

He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.

“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”

That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.

“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”

He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”

He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.

You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”

—

Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.

“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.

Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—

“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.

She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”

“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”

“If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.

Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.

—

#ron weasley #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley angst #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley fic #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley one shot #harry potter fic

239 notes · View notes

echo-three-one · 3 years

Note

How ‘bout Jealous Soap x reader?

Hello Earthisdonut 🌍 🍩

I saw your ask while I was at work and I can't stop thinking about how the story goes... I had a lot of ideas but as I wrote, it kept on swinging on the other direction. Maybe it's my feelings being resonated into the words or an entire force telling me to go this way. Anyways here you go...

A jealous soap x reader fic.

Take me home

You take a deep breath and closed your eyes, clearing away the mixed sounds of random chatter, loud tv commentary and the all the yelling. 'Friday evening shifts are the worst' you thought to yourself as you make your way back to your station, wearing a smile on your face.

"Hey miss!" a customer whistled from the far end of the counter. You hastily walked to him and smiled.

"What can I get you?" you asked with sincerity in your voice. You've worked long enough to master the art of faking a smile when in fact you are tired, but this job is all you have and the tips kept the bills afloat.

"Two beers and roasted nuts, please." He ordered, you were impressed at how kind he was, unlike the other new customers who reeked of rudeness and bad manners.

"Coming right up, Sir!" you winked as you tend to his order, mentally noting his tab for later. You hand him over the beer, placed on a circular chip that served as a coaster, followed by a heaping bowl of roasted nuts.

This kind of scene continued throughout the night, just with different kinds of people with different combinations of orders. You feel tired but you tend to forget it when you look at the tip jar, the thing that kept you moving forward. It's also the thing that's holding you back from life, you remembered when your best friend told you that you should unwind sometimes instead of rendering overtime during your day offs, to which you replied : "Soon enough", and that was well over a year ago.

As you wiped off the recently left spot by the counter, a well built man immediately took the spot and sat down, you tilted you head upward as the action surprised you. There he was, you couldn't miss his look, he stood out on the crowd because of his haircut, a perfectly cut mohawk and a scar on his left eye. He grinned at you, his blue eyes looked excited as soon as it met yours.

"John? I didn't know you'd be home!" You gasped as soon as you realized he's actually there, quickly putting a shot glass and pouring his favorite drink.

"Hey Y/N! I knew I'd find you here!" his hand gestured for a shake but he quickly dismissed it as soon as he realized he couldn't do it while you're at work.

"Yeah, working as always." you replied, trying to sound contented. He smiled at you as he raised his glass and downed the drink. You couldn't help but look at the way his Adam's apple moved as he consumed the drink.

His face turned into something incomprehensible as he let the taste of the strong alcohol set in, making you chuckle a little. His eyes turned to you as he heard you laugh.

"What's funny?" he asked. You simple shook you head and poured another pint on his shot glass.

"I'll be back in a few. I have to serve drinks for these wild crowd." You informed him, but as soon as you were about to step out, you hear him stand up.

"What time will you be off?" He asked.

"Two more hours." You replied without looking back. You could feel your cheeks warm up and an uncontrollable smile plastered on your face.

"Okay. I'll be here till then." he yelled as you entered the door to the employee's area.

'Shit Shit shit shit.' you whispered to yourself as you regain composure. He felt way off. He didn't act like this toward you before. You could feel something odd between you two, and you're very distracted about it.

You made your way to your manager's office to request a five minute break. You knew he'd approve a breather from you because he was a accommodating to you since day one. You believed it's because you always give it your all in every shift.

You softly knock on his office door and pushed it slightly ajar, peeking your head through it as you saw him on his desk, doing some paperwork.

"Ah, Y/N. You need anything, love?" he greeted in his usual tone. His endearment didn't matter you as he calls every female "love".

"Can I take a five? Just needed to breathe." you huffed. He nodded in approval and stood up.

"Let's puff it out, yeah?" he smiled as he offered a stick of cigarette.

The cold breeze of the Saturday evening wrapped around your work uniform. The noise from the bar was muffled but occasional screams would echo across the street. You exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke through your mouth as the relaxing feel of nicotine coursed through your system. Smoking was your go-to activity whenever you feel extreme unexplained emotions, such as seeing John MacTavish after a long time.

"Tough crowd?" Your manager turned his head to you as you casually leaned on the cold metal railing.

"Not really. I just saw someone I least expected to see." You retorted, pressing your lips against the cigarette butt as you closed your eyes and inhaled the vice.

"Someone you hate?" He queried.

"Not necessarily. But at one point of my life, maybe... It's just... it's complicated." You complained, sighing at the thought of him once again. You mentally fought against yourself whether to reminisce or not, reminding yourself that the reason you went out here was to clear your head, not to fill it with memories of summer 4 years ago.

You fixed your posture and flicked off the cigarette butt to the ashtray. Your boss followed, escorting you back to the office.

"Thanks for the company. I needed it." You thanked him as you crossed the street. He hummed in acknowledgement as he opened the door for you. You couldn't help but scan the room quickly for a mohawk, but he wasn't around. Maybe he went to the bathroom, you thought to yourself as you get back to your station.

9:59 pm. Your eyes trailed to the huge digital clock by the door, rapidly moving across the crowd still no mohawk in sight. This actually made you sad, he wasn't the kind of guy who dissappoints, you always saw him as a man of his word. You did confirm that he already paid for his tab about an hour and a half ago, just after your short break.

Guess you're going home alone. So much for ' I'll be here till then' you mentally argued, frowning as you wiped off the last glass in the tray.

10:00 pm. You sighed and lazily grabbed your time card and let the huge metal clock record your departure. You felt your energy quickly deplete due to the dissappointment that is John MacTavish.

"See you on Monday!" you waved goodbye to your coworkers who seemed to notice your sudden loss of energy. You push the back door slowly and stepped outside. It was getting cold and you weren't prepared for it.

"Hey." A low scottish accent muttered just beside you, making you yelp in surprise.

"Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me!" you angrily punched his strong arm, hurting yourself in the process.

"I'm sorry." he spoke lazily, almost tired or drunk. You couldn't exactly tell, but it was far from his tone earlier.

"Pretty chilly, eh?" you asked him, imitating his accent. Something that you always considered a major turn on when it comes to him.

"A little bit. And your impression is way off, I don't say it like that." he retorted nonchalantly making you worry if something happened while he was waiting.

"You seem a little off, what's the problem?" you asked, playfully bumping him while you walked the empty streets on your way home.

"It's just... uh.. Nevermind." he trailed off, his secrecy was making you impatient and you stopped on your tracks. He continued walking, looking down at the ground until he noticed you're no longer beside him.

He turned back. "You forgot something?"

"I don't get you." you raised your voice. He slowly walked back to you until he's just inches away from your face.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I should've just asked..."

"Asked what? You told me you'd stay here till my shift is over and then you're gone like that?" you complained, the tone of your voice was demanding and you could see him flinch when words hurt.

"I didn't want to raise suspicion."

"Who would be suspicious of you?!"

"Shortly after you left, I took a smoke. But I didn't do it by the smoking area. I was way up here, enjoying the breeze." he said, turning to the smoking area which was very visible from up here. Was he sad because he saw you and your manager by the smoking area? What kind of eyes did he have? You didn't want to assume things so you started to supply him with questions to fill in the blanks.

"And? Was the area too sad for you to be all emo like that all of a sudden?" you complained, soing your best impression of an angry person, but you know deep inside that you couldn't get angry at this man.

"Yeah. You could say that." he chuckled. He couldn't even look at you anymore.

"Bullshit." you retorted. He slowly tilted his head and smiled as soon as your eyes met. The view was so gorgeous you almost felt like the world was in slow motion.

"You don't have to believe me if you want. Why are you walking with me home anyway. You could've said no. I bet he has some nice fancy car to drive you home." he blurted, fog started to huff out of his mouth as the snow started to fall from the sky.

"Where are you going with this, John?" you spat, letting the emotions get the best of you. If only he was clear enough then this wouldn't have happened.

"I saw the two of you smiling while talking, I thought to myself. Yeah, she's happy with that bloke huh, I wish I knew that before I invited her earlier." he breathed out. You almost felt guilty, but it wasn't your fault. He easily assumed things that weren't even true.

"What made you think we're together? Just because we're smoking together doesn't mean we're in a relationship. Is that what you thought?" you replied, fighting back helping him on his way to the truth.

He paused, it's as if his whole thought process was shattered when your words stung him.

"I got jealous. To be fair, I was gone for 4 years... I always thought you already found someone else within that time." he frowned. It was not usual of him to feel this vulnerable.

"Look-" you tried to explain but you suddenly felt his warm embrace wrapped around you.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. The same words he said before leaving 4 years ago. The same words that hurt you back then and the same words that's going to hurt you at this moment. He was the one that got away, he was the one whom you shared your most magical moments with, but not the one who's going to be there until the end. He'll have to leave anytime soon, as his job requires him to save the world. You told him he could settle for less risky world saving endeavors but he insisted that this was his purpose. And you were not willing to let him choose again.

"You know... you're not supposed to feel jealousy." you consoled, rubbing his well sculpted back.

"I know... I couldn't help it." he whispered.

"Let's get you home, John." you whisper to him as he pulls away from you, his face pouted like a baby whose candy got stolen.

"Why are you here anyway?" you added.

"I'm getting reassigned to a new task force. I figured I could say goodbye to someone I hold dear." he smirked, he felt normal, but then again you couldn't help but feel that this would be the last time you'll be seeing him. You we're thinking he won't be able to travel freely back here anymore or worse, he'll be the hero the world wanted him to be.

#earthisadonut asks for a fic #horRAYfic #no spoilers in the tags #but aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

117 notes · View notes

felassan · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Dark Fortress #3

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

There’s a lot I thought/wanna say about this final issue, to the point that it’s hard to know where to start!

The cover art is.. beautiful. The symbolic allusion between Shirallas and the dragon (his draconic-y claws, the semblance of a broken collar falling off in the same way, the fire) 👌 On the whole, lined up side-by-side the three covers of Dark Fortress feel really thematically cohesive. Shirallas’ and the dragon’s claws echo Tractus’ sharp metal gauntlet, and as well as the similarities between the dragon and Shirallas, both Tractus and the dragon have a circle of weapons, and the patterning encircles Tractus’ neck and wrists like the collars and shackles. Y’know, like you can just really tell the cover artist planned ahead and put a lot of thought into how the 3 cover arts would ‘flow’ from one to the other, blending elements between them.

I posted some of my fav panels here.

I knew he was my boy but Shirallas’ backstory broke my heart ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) the first panel is so bleak and heart-wrenching. the burning aravel parts.. another Dalish clan met a terrible fate.

I wonder if his clan wandered Tevinter like Clan Oranavra? it makes me wonder if Shirallas and Fenris met in Tevinter. It’s nice to see that another clan took him in. And if Shirallas is a name he took, not his original name, I assume it has a special meaning, maybe to do with his quest for justice/vengeance. Shiral means journey, “allas” is found in vallas, which means set, as in the sun. The “vallas” in vallasdahlen (life-trees, planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dales) means life. in many ways the sun and life are the same thing, and there’s the obvious connection to Elgar’nan, eldest of the sun. So journey/quest - sun/life? Like since the loss of his clan he’s on a journey/quest for the rest of his life to get justice/vengeance, which are attributes of the sun god Elgar’nan? that became his life’s purpose and his direction of ‘travel’ ever since his loss, what he dedicated his life to since then. :’(

Elgara vallas, da'len. ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

This is our first look at the vallaslin application process, no? what Shirallas is saying in this panel is the Song to Elgar’nan. it’s interesting, in that that prayer kind of resembles what happened, or almost happened, in this issue. a fortress shaken, fire, winged death (a dragon), pretenders to power, “strike the usurpers” (“Red Wraith, dispose of my enemies, kill the traitorous mage”). pretty cool right?

⬇️ me two months ago, look at the tags in red brackets.

oh my son.. Dalish father roams, and the Dalish son won’t survive the fight ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

the panel where Fenris and Shirallas shake hands ;; to which experience is Fenris speaking of, I wonder? once upon a time he saw Anders almost lose himself in his own quest for Justice/Vengeance for the mages.

Parallels between Shirallas succeeding in proving himself to Nenealeus and when Fenris succeeded in proving himself to Danarius all those years ago - compare. ;__; an elf surrounded by bodies of people he’d killed to prove himself, and a horrible Magister telling him “well done”.

I love the design of the sword and its use as a ‘divider’ on the first page splitting up the panels is both smart and beautiful. even here there’s pink light around it, the dragon’s fire

overall I wasn’t expecting this issue to begin with flashbacks to Shirallas’ past and backstory, so this whole page caught me off-guard

omg look at the red lyrium ‘veins’ under Shirallas’ skin. when he emerges from the sarcophagus that is a very cool picture of his face

Nenealeus has been taking beard-styling advice/trends from the dwarves

check out the sword crackling and reforming as Shirallas makes contact with it. is the red lyrium under his skin moving in this scene?

in the panel of Vaea running away from the dragon, it’s nice that as she runs Fenris is still behind facing the dragon, to protect her

gorgeous background in the panel with Marquette, and his expression is one of Regret for what he just did and for his part in all this. the dawning realization that I’ve Fucked Up Big Time

as Nenealeus’ weapon is a sword, does he have some Knight Enchanter-adjacent skills (I don’t expect the actual KE artform is exclusive to southern Circles only)? it’s a physical item ofc, not a summoned one. staffs are infused with lyrium to provide a conduit for a mage’s power. so then, mages can channel power through other [presumably similarly-infused] weapons too, not just mage staves/staff-like magic implements or their bare hands

given the color of Nenealeus’ magic and the fact that the dragon was under the control of his magic, it now makes sense to me why the dragon’s fire is that color! o:

Marius is badass (nice touch that his shoulder is smoking pink with the effects of one of Nenealeus’ magic attacks here) and the four panels where everyone’s grim and determined, facing off against each other and Venatori goons made me feel quite emotional. Aaron is Team Dad.. it’s nice to see him having a friendship / paternal moment with Francesca both acknowledging her pain and power while also giving her a pep talk. You can tell when he says too “We all need to do whatever we can in this moment” that he’s talking about himself too and may already be thinking one or some of them aren’t going to make it out of there

Francesca GO OFF!! she’s so powerful, and it’s really cool every time seeing her plant magic in action. it puts in perspective how powerful Velanna would have been with her similar skills (skills like Thornblades), and I enjoy the contrast of the fire in the background and the blue/green of Fran’s magic in action

Fenris is so cool-headed in high-octane combat situations, quickly taking stock, assessing and realizing the odds then coming up with a plan. the look on Vaea’s face when she’s like >:( wtf u can’t just leave is cute

cool pulled-back bird’s eye shot of the Fortress

Karasten continuing with the sass about Tevinter even during a siege

Fenris speaking Qunlat! I love that they brought this lore fact into play and had him make use of this skill, it’s a neat reminder of Fenris’ exchange with the Arishok if you take him into the compound in DA2. in the opening-up the gates scene, Vaea’s worried about letting the Qunari in and going to the Qunari (from her expression), but she trusts Fenris and his judgement enough to open the gate and see what happens

I like that Tessa’s bolts are fletched the blue of her accent color

chills at the panel where Shirallas is walking out of the flames advancing on Aaron. Ser Aaron, who never retreats, not at Ostagar, not now ;__;

the battle-scenes are beautiful, fast-paced and gory, chaotic and colorful, like it would feel to be there

Fenris then puts himself between Aaron and Shirallas. I could hear “I will deal with this Red Wraith” in my head

Autumn can look so scary. a true mabari warrior! when she leapt towards Shirallas I was Stressed for her safety despite knowing rationally that they wouldn’t kill their dog!

the horizontal combat splash page is awesome

CLEVER GIRL Autumn. she and Fenris are in sync in this sequence.

Shirallas serving super saiyan vibes with the bulk, strength, hair

Fenris bargaining for Fran’s life and then trusting her to use her magic as part of the attack on the Red Wraith

lmao Ser Aaron

smart thinking Fran

Aaron praising her ;__;

Marius was straight-up prepared to die to stop Nenealeus ;__; poor Tessa in this exchange

the face-melting scene 👌

“Ah, Marius... I knew it would come down to the two of us”: this panel is just really cool? Nenealeus looks almost congenial here, which makes him seem all the more colder and more dangerous. and the burning bodies strongly remind me of the bodies at the start of Inquisition which are at the ‘blast point’ of the Breach at the Conclave

when Marius and Vaea’s eyes meet and they formulate the backup plan 👌

nice to see ‘staff’-less magic in action. Nenealeus is clearly a very powerful mage. when he’s frying Marius he has Star Wars Palpatine and force lightning vibes

OH VAEA... you did it, but my heart hurts that she had to kill someone for the first time, even though it was foreshadowed by her discussion with Marius in a earlier issue. & Nenealeus’ look of surprise as he dies says it all

it’s a serious moment but Marius now looks like a cat that stuck its paw in a socket hh

when Nenealeus is doubled over dead, it’s a great panel- the white background taking us out of the chaos that’s going on all-around for just a moment, showing the seriousness of what’s just transpired for Vaea and the realization of it setting in. a pause, the shock. & it’s nice to see Marius being soft with someone other than Calpernia or Tessa

but despite what’s just happened Vaea is still Vaea, she’s concerned about life and immediately wants to save the dragon. I like the part where panels of Vaea and Fran ‘face’ each other as they have this discussion, a lot.

in the moment that it takes off, does the dragon realize Vaea is responsible for saving its life? the ‘eye’ panel feels like an acknowledgement from it, or between the two

Fran’s magic destroying and sinking the sarcophagus into the ground reminds me of what in-world lore says happened to Arlathan, in a way

omg they have to stop Shirallas before he gets over 9000

do you think when Aaron says “We cannot retreat” he’s thinking of Loghain’s retreat at Ostagar?

at this point btw I’m pleasantly surprised that Marius survives, I had sort of expected him to die in this issue

oh Marquette, curiosity killed the cat dontcha know

new lore just dropped: the Red Wraith is able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword have a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

Paragon Branka reference! and later on a Black Marsh reference

:’( As soon as Aaron launched into his story at this point my stress levels went through the roof and I knew it was Time. and then - well. you know :’((( Aaron had death flags in previous issues, so I was logically prepared and not surprised by the occurrence (this isn’t a bad thing btw), but I still wasn’t EMOTIONALLY PREPARED

mfw

nooooooooo.... It was at this point everyone that I burst into tears.. i have never Ugly Cried at a comic before so that was a new experience.. It’s hard to put my feelings about this into words bc rly it just straight-up destroyed me, u know.. Vaea’s “Don’t leave me”, Aaron’s tears when he knows the deed is done, his pendant.. surely the resemblance between the way he looks on this cover and the way he looks in the panel when he’s falling and Vaea is shouting “Aaron!” is intentional. i’m just destroyed okay

On the next page, holes in Shirallas’ shirt where his wounds were before they healed is a nice touch. Autumn’s bite here must surely be shattering the bone in his lower leg. then as if i wasn’t in enough pain already - being separated from the weapon, did that bring Shirallas back to himself for a while? His “Friend?” and the look in his eyes when he looks up at Fenris is so pitiful :’( for a moment just before the end he’s the boy in the wood surrounded by his burning clan again. RIP Shirallas son, we barely knew ye but I loved u :’(((

Having Marquette escape is a smart choice, it means there’s someone still kicking around Thedas who knows what happened here and what went down. maybe we seek him out in the next game when trying to follow up on the plot-thread of the idol/red lyrium/its capabilities/Venatori/Qunari? anyway, can’t help but admire, in a fashion anyway, someone who dips out to save their own skin, and his attempted grift when he’s talking to Tractus x)

we hadn’t seen the last of Tractus indeed. there he is! “This is me, crying over our loss” - he’s such an edgy boi

THE IDOL

“Oh, you mean this idol?” feels like they’re breaking the fourth wall and deliberately teasing us x)

when Fenris says “[stay clear of it] Red lyrium can do things with your mind” I wonder if he’s thinking of his experiences with things like Bartrand and Meredith

started to cry again at the final Aaron scenes ok.. when it pans back to Vaea and Autumn on the shore with the dying Aaron, they look so small and lonely set against the backdrop of the gray rock, windy shore, jagged outcrops. it’s a beautifully poignant and incredibly forlorn backdrop for this scene. Autumn in these panels, and again the parallel between Aaron lying here and him on that cover page.. ;; the whole scene is raw and gutwrenching. even in death Aaron was thinking about Vaea, apologizing that she had to take a life, outlining his hopes that she continues to have a positive future and doesn’t descend into any kind of darkness. the fact that all this time he’s carried around a letter addressed to King Alistair in his pocket, to recommend that Vaea be knighted, the fact that he’s crying too, the pendant, the tenderness between them, how proud Aaron is of Vaea, the fact that he goes out telling a story and smiling because he’s so proud of her, here at the end Aaron is filled with pride and looks at peace.. i can’t ( ok i cried again on this re-read when writing this post, Dad Stuff is the ultimate way to get me ok.. don’t look at me _(°:з」∠)_ )

Vaea IS more than worthy. I’m so glad someone recognizes that and sees it in her. King Alistair WOULD knight her, and there’s a beautiful poetry in that fact as the son of an elf. there’s also something poetic in that, if Vaea becomes the first elven knight of Ferelden, well it echoes the Emerald Knights of old in a way. that’s beautiful. I’m very proud of Vaea.

Here we see another parallel - when Francesca is comforting a crying Vaea as her father figure passes away, it directly echoes when Vaea comforted Francesca when she was crying after her own father died.

Aaron’s hometown of Portsmouth is a real place in England

I’m happy to see Fran and Autumn continuing to travel with Vaea, and Fenris continuing to keep his promise to Aaron to keep Vaea safe, and that Cassé is now Fran’s horse (that’s a lovely touch considering she healed him in Blue Wraith, a full-circle moment)

Fenris is right, they were family. soft supportive Fenris, with emotional intelligence ;; (and he of all people knows about Found Family)

the last panel of Vaea crying is beautiful too, the sun is rising in the east after the terrible night they’ve had, and the ‘faded’ rectangles is a great style/composition choice

even Cassé the horse looks sad

the scene of Fran and Vaea riding double with Fenris smiling in the background is super cute, and I love that the last we see of the party is them honoring Ser Aaron by telling stories like he did, of his exploits. I hope they always tell stories of Ser Aaron ;;

I’m glad Tessa made it out okay, she’ll be able to return to Charter. 💜 I was a bit worried this wouldn’t be the case

the last page DBKGRRGRKRKGREKF

Pour one out for Ser Aaron Hawthorne of Portsmouth, Knight of Ferelden.

---

A recap on wider plot-points

The Qunari Antaam have taken control of Castellum Tenebris, and Neromenian has fallen to their advance.

The sarcophagus is broken and has been buried deep in the ground. Francesca asserts that it won’t be found.

The Inquisition agents retrieved the broken shards of the weapon, and are going to take its remains to the shadow Inquisition.

Tractus Danarius is alive and in possession of the idol, or was at the timepoint of this comic. He wants to use it to impress the Venatori remnants so that he can rejoin them. Marquette thinks, or said that he thinks (could easily be a bluff or his lack of knowledge about it compared to someone like Solas), that it doesn’t work anymore. (I’m leaning towards it does still work, otherwise why would Solas be interested in it?)

Solas, in what looks kinda like his most recent DA4 trailer gear, was watching the events of this series/arc the whole time and knows what happened. He knows Tractus has the idol. None of the people in this comic plot are “People Solas doesn’t know”. And it seems that he is able to use eluvians to watch people.

There’s a chance that Tractus Danarius is the mage in Tevinter Nights, from Dread Wolf Take You - the mage from House Danarius who went with some slaves to Nevarra to use the idol to perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi. That mage wanted to change the world to help fight the Antaam’s invasion. In the tale at least, he used the idol, a rift opened, the Dread Wolf popped out and killed him. At the time of that ritual the idol was still working.

+ some new lore -

the Red Wraith was able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword the idol created had a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

eluvians can be used to watch people. not just to communicate over long distances or as portals between places

Lastly I don’t know what to do with myself anymore as this is the end of a long-running DA arc and was the final piece of [currently-known about] new canon Dragon Age content that we’ll get.

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dark fortress spoilers #dark fortress spoiler #dragon age #bioware #fenris #spoilers #spoiler #dragon age: dark fortress spoilers #dragon age: dark fortress spoiler #the Fenaissance #feels #gpoy

58 notes · View notes

writerwrites · 3 years

Text

Yuánfèn | 01

Ch.1: Depaysement: “The feeling that comes from not being in one’s home country; being a foreigner.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 3.9k Chapter Warnings: Slow burn, grief, fluff

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Complete Masterlist

After the 2012 Battle of New York, you didn’t have anyone to tell you that you shouldn’t start working for Stark Industries. The United States government swore that less than a hundred people had died in Loki’s Chitauri attack on the city you called home, but the loss of both of your parents and your only sibling was still sitting like an anchor of depression on top of your chest. They hadn’t even been in the same buildings and thinking about those devastating hours sitting at home alone waiting for them to come through the door as the wireless network collapsed under the panic of the city still sent you into a week of night terrors. The blood never did wash out of your scrubs, one of the worst days of both your professional and personal life. Still, you didn’t blame the Avengers and thought that if anyone was going to stop the world from falling into that darkness again that it was them. If all you could do was patch up those few people skilled enough to save the world, you would manage your own emotions. Compartmentalizations, that was all you knew after that day.

It was your maternal grandmother, a reclusive woman that retired in Mallorca, that was all you technically had left. With no relationship between the two of you, it was easy to take up the offer to start working for Stark and the team, especially with how busy both Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner had been with their own research. The facilities in Stark Tower were far beyond ‘state of the art’ and you’d been given a team of androids and nurses that helped you build confidence in knowing what you were doing when, in terms of years of experience, you’d been an unlikely choice for the job. It was those years learning under great minds that you really flourished and in a few short years, had found a rhythm to your new normal. Work, apartment, study and practice technique; rinse and repeat.

There was more expected of you at Stark Industries than just the titles of doctor, surgeon, or even therapist. You kept your head down for years, expecting Stark to think he’d made a mistake choosing you. It was Dr. Cho’s encouragement that made you stand a little more straight, a little less invisible, a little more emotionally available. When the team came back from Sokovia with an entire hole through Clint Barton, Dr. Cho took him for tissue repair and you ran your checks on the rest of the team. To your surprise they weren’t in the common area, everyone dispersing and choosing their solitude, uncommon for a mission that should have been deemed a success. You found Natasha first, sitting in a room next to Clint’s. “Hey Doc, I’m all clear. Just need to know how Clint’s doing.”

Pulling up your stool you shook your head. “Nice try, jacket off.” She nodded and you worked her bruised arm to make sure there weren’t any fractures or sprains. “Dr. Cho seemed confident Clint would be fine. You know that as long as you clean up she’ll let you in there. Physically you’re good to go, but what happened out there. Everyone’s run off.”

Watching Natasha’s gaze fall, the swallow at her cottonmouth, and the brief silence it was obvious the injuries were different on this mission. “There were some enhanced kids working for HYDRA, she got in Tony’s head, banged Cap up pretty bad too. I’m fine and we got the scepter, but this one isn’t feeling like much of a success. I just have to process, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll have JARVIS pencil you in for a chat. If you’ve worked through it, great. If not, you’ve got me. I get it, really I do. He’s your person.” Offering up a soft smile you tapped away on the tablet. “Clean up so you can get to Barton.”

“Thanks, Doc. I took it pretty easy compared to Steve and Tony.” She trailed off, offering an apologetic smile before she slipped out of the door.

Pinching your nose, you asked JARVIS for everyone’s location in the Tower and the A.I. made you a map with little blinking lights. Captain Rogers was closest and you went into the gym quietly, hearing the sound of his fists lobbing into a punching bag. Quietly crossing the wooden floor, you knew that with his enhanced sense he already knew you were coming before you walked in, but it didn’t stop you from being cautious. He had swapped the suit for sweats and an undershirt and you could see the crusted over cuts on his bicep and forearms, the stain of blood on his wrapped knuckles. By the time you were within arms reach, tablet and medical bag in hand, he grabbed the bag to stop it from swinging into you. Sweat dripped down his forehead causing his disheveled blonde hair to stick to his skin and you lowered your gaze so you’d stop staring. He broke the silence first, “Did you already check on the others?”

For a moment you were tempted to lie, “Clint is with Dr. Cho. Nat’s patched up. Your turn now, Captain Rogers.” With a firm nod to the bench he surprisingly obliged. As you carefully took off the bandages on his hands, cleaning them up and wrapping them in fresh gauze, you asked about what seemed to have shaken the team up. “What did the enhanced agents in the field do?”

He stiffened, not just from the sting of the astringent on his cuts as you moved up along his arms. “The girl used some sort of mind control. Tony thinks it was a vision, but I got the brunt of whatever telekinesis she has. I’ve never seen anything like it before. The boy that got Clint was just fast, threw him off and he got hit.” Pressing one of Dr. Cho’s artificial skin patched over a deeper cut in his bicep, you took off your gloves and tapped away on the tablet before meeting his eye, wondering if he would continue. “Whatever Tony saw, it’s put some idea in his head and, well, you know how Tony is. There’s a lot of pressure to do things right, to get everyone home. I’m not saying I’m not used to it, but since I came out of the ice I’ve had it relatively easy working with SHIELD and the Avengers.”

A crease formed between your eyebrows as you looked up at him. “I know the feeling.” Letting out a slow, shaking breath you took his hands in yours, just for a moment, “Focus on what you can control, Tony’s not one of those things, but the team could learn from the mistakes made. You can make a training plan to better prepare for another run in with the kids. Until you’ve got that down, I’m sure you’ll be busy trying to find out who they are.”

Unless Steve had looked into the undoubtable file Stark had made on you upon your hiring, there was no way he knew you had lost your entire family years earlier while he was out avenging. Maybe he didn’t know you’d noticed he was a planner. He certainly didn’t know you were too or if he did, he wouldn’t know why. Both of you pulled away simultaneously, neither managing to look at the other. It was isolating, unintentionally so. The dynamics in the Tower between the team and everyone else that worked there made you feel like you had each foot in two different worlds; a stranger to the team in an even stranger land. To your surprise, he stood up and grabbed the scraps of packaging and dirty gloves, “I’ll heal up in a few days, so I promise to stay off the punching bag until then. If I need anything I’ll find you, Doc.”

It was exactly what he needed and proof that he was used to these doctors orders. Despite the job, you’d kept a low profile. None of them really knew you. You were at best ‘Doc’ and at worst completely invisible. You watched him do what the rest did after a check up, walk away without another word. Under your breath you whispered your name- seemingly the only thing you could manage to string together as you felt misplaced. It was worse than homesickness because you knew there was no home to go back to, no friends that knew your former self. Lost in your thoughts you almost didn’t hear the soldier softly repeat your name before tossing the trash in the nearest bin and marching out the door. It closed so loudly behind him you flinched.

Pulling up the map that JARVIS had made for you, you finished your rounds and slipped back into your office to fill out your paperwork, the equivalent of a debriefing report. There wasn’t much to write, not a single one of them told you what they’d seen and it was the psychological, not the physical injuries, Clint aside, that worried you. Your thumb pressed into the smooth metal of the two gold wedding bands that sat against your sternum under your scrubs, then across the links of the gold necklace that held them. It was in the unspoken images the woman had placed in Tony’s mind, the powerful scepter sitting in a lab in the Tower, and the near-loss of Hawkeye, all of it was too much at once for the team. You could hear Natasha’s voice saying she had to process that gave you the sense of being unsettled and separate from one’s place of belonging and it had you reaching for the tokens of your past.

Absentmindedly clicking away from the forms to your email you noticed a high alert message with a heading in Spanish. As you clicked, you tried to switch your tired mind into what had once been your first language but that you hadn’t used in deep conversation in years. Line by line you reread the message, thinking that what you read was simply lost in translation. Right when you were about to ask JARVIS to translate, the door to your office opened. Tony Stark never had the decency to knock so you didn’t know why you half expected him to not read your emails. “Stark, come to tell me what the kid put in your head?”

Tony leaned against the door to your office, whiskey in one hand which was more than a hint that he’d found his own way to cope with what he saw. He tapped on the tech on his wrist and projected an images of your grandmother, her villa in Mallorca, and then swiped to display medical records. “I’ve made arrangements for you to take some time off and handle everything with your family.”

Before you could scold him for reading your email or tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping tabs on you, your phone chimed. The screen lit up with alerts from various apps indicating a flight, Uber, and Airbnb were all set up for you. “Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to…”

“Ah, but I did.” He cut in, wagging his finger at you. “You’ve kept the team in one piece for years, this is the definition of doing the bare minimum. Come back when you’re ready, your job will be here. We might even manage to stay out of trouble while you’re gone.”

“I might actually buy that if it was coming from Cap, but you wouldn’t know how to stay out of trouble if you were given a manual.” Getting out of the chair and picking up your things you hadn’t noticed you’d been crying. Wiping the tears away when you weren’t looking you managed a soft, “Thank you.” By the time you turned around Tony was gone.

Walking the familiar path to the elevator you popped in your AirPods, keeping your head low as you waited for the elevator in case someone tried to stop you or ask you something personal. The doors dinged and opened and you were met with the familiar scent of bar soap and laundry detergent. Reaching for the garage button to see it lit up you pulled your hand back. “What happened to taking it easy?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” His voice was soft, but you kept your head down, music playing quietly in your ears, “What’s this song?” Pulling your phone out of your pocket you showed him the screen, uncertain if you could keep yourself together enough to speak, and ultimately not realizing that you hadn’t cleared the notifications from the screen when he asked with a tone of surprise, “You’re leaving for Spain?”

Fighting the burn in your eyes as your nerves seemed to insist on making you face the reality of this trip you looked up at him, only half way, talking to his chin instead of meeting his eyes, “Yeah, for my grandmother. I have to take care of… I won’t be gone long I don’t think.”

His calloused fingers lifted your chin forcing you to meet his eyes. The bright blue, the concern that melted into sympathy. “Cancel the Uber. I’ll take you to the airport.”

“You don’t have to do that. I haven’t even packed.”

“I want to,” His soft smile made you attempt your own broken smile, causing the tears to trickle down your cheeks. Despite never having a real conversation with you and knowing nothing about you, he wiped the tears away and gently squeezed your shoulder. “What’s easier for you, leaving your car here at the Tower or leaving it at home?”

You didn’t want to admit that the thing that would probably bring you home before the date on your return ticket was the team getting into trouble. “Leaving my car here.”

Giving him directions to your place proved to be an amusing distraction by the third wrong turn. Despite knowing him for three years, it was the first time you really saw him laugh. That melodic, deep laughter was contagious and you found yourself laughing into your hands to hide the ferocious blush that wouldn’t seem to leave your cheeks. With some relief you made it to your apartment and invited him in. “I just have to pack really quick.”

“I could help. Military made me a master at it.” His eyes were wandering over the place, hands in his pockets.

You didn’t need to look at him for more than a second to know that he had no idea who the people in the pictures were or that you’d lost them all. Your stomach twisted hoping he wouldn’t ask, so you thoughtlessly thanked him and led him to your bedroom, only partitioned from the living room with a vintage panelled wall divider. It was a relief you were almost never home, leaving the place fairly clean. Taking out your one small suitcase and your old canvas backpack from medical school you tossed them on the bed, “The longest I’ve been away from work was four days. I have no idea how to fit enough clothes in here.”

“Just set what you want to take to the side and I’ll get it in there. You should grab your toothbrush and computer, chargers and things.” He sat on the bed and picked up the backpack and suitcase, checking out the pockets as you tossed a handful of clothes onto the bed. You’d changed scrubs in front of other doctors and seen most of the super soldier, leaving you unfazed by the fact that he was now handling your intimates. Steve on the other hand was quickly becoming a warm shade of pink as he made quick work of the task at hand. “So...what’s the trip for?”

When Steve looked up from your luggage and reached for the item in your hands he knew immediately, as if he’d forgotten in the laughter on the car ride that he’d found you in the elevator fighting back tears. The black dress was formal but not flashy, a practical length but not something meant for an interview… and you knew that he knew as he took it and set it as delicately as he would have laid the flag of one of his lost soldiers in the hands of a mother or wife. “I just hope it still fits.” Turning away so he wouldn’t see you cry, you held your breath and rummaged through your dresser for something to wear to the airport.

As you pulled a tunic and leggings to your chest you turned around and smacked right into the super soldier. He didn’t hesitate to pull you right into a tight hug. “If you end up needing anything while you’re there just let me know. Anything at all, okay?”

You couldn’t be sure how long he let you cry into his shirt, but you knew it was soaked through when you finally slipped into the bathroom. With a glance at your phone you realized there wasn’t much time left to get to the airport, certainly not to shower. Cleaning your face and changing, you stepped back into the room to find him with his nose in the book you’d been reading that had been sitting on your bedside table, Heart Like a Window, Mouth like a Cliff. “Home is the place, for better or for worse, we learn to love.” You quoted as you picked up your backpack and put it on, “I haven’t finished it yet, but you can borrow it while I’m gone. I don’t think I’ll have much time for reading.”

He stood up and grabbed the suitcase, but not before tucking the book into the pocket of his coat. Both of you managed a smile and he looked around, “Got your passport, ID, and…”

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded and patted the bag.

��Stop saying thank you for something you’d do if the shoe was on the other foot.” With one last look around your place Steve noticed the plants and a pet fish on the window sill. “Why don’t you leave your keys with me. I’ll check on your fish and water the plants, grab your mail.”

You hesitated, but it wasn’t as if you’d been home often enough to get to know your neighbors. Telling yourself that it was okay to let a coworker be nice to you, that this wasn’t anything like forming an attachment, you nodded and passed him your keys. “I’ll completely understand if it’s an assistant that ends up coming here, but, umm…” Catching yourself from saying thank you again, you stepped into the hall and watched him lock up a bit unnerved by how quickly he realized which key belonged to the three locks.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” It was the first time you’d heard him say your name in full voice, close up and yet it somehow felt softer than it had earlier. You shuffled quickly down the one flight of stairs, but not before Steve took your small suitcase. Those blue eyes watched you the whole way, making you wonder if he thought you were about to snap.

From holding the door open to passing you the auxiliary cable and asking you to play the music from the elevator, the ride to the airport was fairly quiet. Periodically, a song would come on that would choke you up and you’d go to reach for your phone to skip it. Every time, Steve would grab your hand and give it a squeeze, waiting until you’d caught your breath before moving his hands back to the steering wheel. To your surprise he didn’t pull up to the drop off and instead parked and walked with you as far as the TSA would let him go, carrying your small suitcase and giving your hand a supportive squeeze every time you were asked about the reason for the trip overseas. Rather than saying thank you as you prepared to part ways, you cleverly thanked him in Spanish, making him shake his head disapprovingly. “Steve, you’ve been an absolute gentlemen through the hardest night I’ve had in three years. I know you said I would do the same for you, but I guess I never thought anyone at work knew I existed.”

Steve scoffed, “You’re a little hard not to notice. I’ll make sure you don’t feel that way when you’re back.” Your eyebrows furrowed, concerned he was going to scold the team or worse. “Don’t make that face.” He let out one laugh and shook his head and passed you his phone. “Here. I’m getting a lot better with the texting thing. Keep in touch while you’re gone... even if it’s just pictures of food so that I know you’re eating.”

You put your number in his phone and passed it back. “I’m not going to have a problem eating.” When you looked up at him, he seemed unconvinced. “I’m a doctor, knucklehead. I’m trained in the stages of grief.”

He nodded, but you both exchanged the sort of look that said you’d keep in touch anyways, thank you, and goodbye all at once. You wanted to hug him, but felt like maybe you’d used up all the proximity of a fresh friendship’s timer in your fit of tears in your bedroom. Looking back, glassy eyed as you prepared to move through the last line of metal detectors, you noticed he was still standing there, hands in the pockets of his leather bomber jacket as he watched you. Your chin quivered as you fought back tears. No one had stood by you through the loss of your family in 2012, now you didn’t know what you had done to deserve this, but you were eternally grateful for this man.

Your gaze felt to your feet as you fought back fresh tears and then, before you knew it, there he was, arms wrapped back around you, one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your head to his warm chest. He was saying something to the TSA agent but you couldn’t hear it over the fresh bout of weepies. Steve rocked you and then lifted your face in his hands. “What did I say? If you need anything, all you have to do is ask, okay? Don’t miss your plane. You’re going to get through this.”

Then, and you were certain he’d only done this to get your mind off the grief, he placed a kiss to the top of your head. You looked up at him as you slowly untangled yourself from the hug, his eyes stayed on yours but he stepped aside to let you go after another moment or two. You didn’t say goodbye or thank you, words seemed to fail you, and you’d have an entire plane ride to sit confused and overthink how this night hadn’t just turned into some crush on America’s most high profile bachelor. Nearly twelve hours later you made it to your grandmother’s home in Mallorca, emotionally and physically exhausted. As you collapsed onto the sofa, too anxious to roam through the house just yet, your phone chimed. “It’s Steve. I hope you made it to Spain and are getting some rest before you take care of your family. Thank you for the book, I really enjoyed it.”

With a sleepy smile you type back, “Finished already?!? What did you think? I made it. Resting is TBD...”

His reply surprised you, a quote from the book, and you fell asleep before you could muster one last reply:

We cannot know the remarkable velocity at which we pull each other, tear at individuation, until the distance between us curves and no one is themselves.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love feedback from you. As my followers know I have an obscenely demanding job, but I always try my best to keep you posted on if there will be a delay in a chapter posting. While I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina writer and I write fics I want to read.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #writer: writerwrites

88 notes · View notes

ybangtannies · 3 years

Note

Hi, good luck with your blog! I've just discovered it and I can't wait for your content. As for request... I would like to read about artist Tae where MC is dared to pose nude and Tae fall in love with her, or MC having a bf so she pose nude as a present for him but Tae (obssesed) blackmail her whereas he will show her picture to the public if she don't leave her bf...

Hello! Thank you so much for your request and sorry for taking long to answer, I had a lot of ideas of what to write so it took me a little to actually get to write it but here it is! I changed it a little, I hope that’s okay and you like it.

Masterlist

Word count: 3.3k

Taehyung has been an artist for several years, he started up by taking photos of landscapes he thought were pretty and painting simple things until he got where he is now: one of the most claimed painters of the country; he still likes photography and keeps painting nature sceneries but the reason why he is so famous and well-known is because of his portraits, his nude portraits. He doesn’t just paint whoever is willing to pay him, though, he just accepts if he finds the person to be worth it of both his time and his eyes, at the end of the day, who would like to look at an ugly naked body, having to memorize it and then paint it as if it was something beautiful? People call him arrogant, a snob, frivolous…and well, maybe he is but look at where that got him so he’s not complaining nor he’s about to change it. He’s an artist so who can be better than him to judge what is art and what is not?

It’s been a rough week, not even one out of all the people that has been going to his studio was worth his time and he’s worried that maybe somehow, he has already painted all the beautiful people in the whole country. That worrisome dispels one evening when he is about to leave his studio and call it a day and you appear at his door; you with a shy smile and so much light in your eyes, you dressed in a casual outfit but still showing that you put effort into looking good (not that you really needed to put much effort though), you that speaks in such an angelic voice and calls his name in the sweetest tone he has ever heard before.

“Hello, is this Vante’s studio?”

“Yeah, it’s- that’s me, yes”. He finds himself at a loss of words, something that never ever happened to him, normally it would be the opposite and he would be the one making people not be able to speak even a simple phrase when in his presence. He swallows and thinks about how his hyungs would mock him if they saw him like this.

“Uhm, can I come in? I would like to talk to you about a possible job?” You are looking at him expectantly and he gets lost momentarily in your eyes once again until he is finally able to get a hold of himself and move to the side you could come in.

You smile brightly and move inside his studio while he closes the door and takes a deep breath in hopes of clearing his mind enough to be able to attend your request how you deserve.

“So, what is it that I can do for you, beautiful?”

You stop looking at the numerous paintings and sculptures that occupy his studio and turn to look at him with a light blush adorning your cheeks.

“I would like for you to paint a portrait of me…naked”, you say the last word in a whisper, so low he wouldn’t have been able to hear it if it wasn’t for the place being totally silent.

Taehyung looks at you from head to toe, out of reflex, with curiosity and maybe already imagining you naked, totally exposed for his eyes only. When he finally moves his eyes to your face, he takes pride in seeing the blush in your cheeks is now more noticeable than before.

“Of course, love, it would be pleasure. For when do you want it?”

“Oh, really? That’s a relief, I heard you were quite…refined when choosing your clients… so I was a little hesitant if you would accept my offer, I’ve been a fan of your work for some years now, I really love the way you portray the beauty of the people you paint and don’t even get me started with you sculptures, sometimes it feels like they’re actual people looking at you with how rough their emotions are- oh God! I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just pretty nervous and excited about finally meeting you and- I’m doing it again, am I not? I’m so…”

“No, please, stop apologizing. It’s okay, it’s really cute, you can keep praising me”. Taehyung smirks at you, he looks amused at your spur of compliments and your opinion on his art. He really wasn’t one for hearing people praise his works or him for they more than not did it with the purpose of getting in his pants but there’s something about the way you talked…it drives him crazy, he wants to keep listening to you talk for hours on end. “And yes, you’re right about the part of me being refined when I decide who I want to paint and that’s exactly why I accepted your offer, you’re exquisite yourself, I would be a fool to reject you, love.” He can’t stop himself, it’s like he doesn’t have any filter and just says everything that comes to his mind, or almost everything.

“Thank you then, Vante.”

“Taehyung, please, that’s my actual name.”

“Okay, Taehyung,” you smile once again and he feels his heart skip a beat, “and answering your question: I’d need to portrait for the end of the month? That’s when my boyfriend’s birthday is, and I want it to be a gift for him.”

Boyfriend.

A fucking boyfriend.

Taehyung’s posture becomes stiff and the smile on his face falls a little, not enough for you to notice, though, but he can feel rage starting to form on his body. So, you’re not for his only it seems, but a lot of things can change in three weeks, right?

“That’s completely okay, we’ll have to meet quite a lot, though, for me to be able to have it on time. I hope that’s not a problem?”

“Not at all. But I thought I would only need to come for a couple of sessions and then you would finish the portrait on your own?”

“I like having the model in front of me from the beginning until the end of the process, so I can fully portray their emotions when posing and their bodies just the way they are.”

Lies.

All lies.

He’s actually very quick with his works, needing only two weeks on top to have them done and obviously he doesn’t need the model to be there the whole time. It’s all bullshit but you don’t need to know that.

“Ah, I understand. I like that, you’re so dedicated with your work. So when can we start, then?”

“That I am, love. Tomorrow works for you? The sooner, the better. I’ll probably need you to come thrice a week.”

“Sure, that works for me, sounds perfect. So tomorrow in the morning, at eleven o’clock?” You look so cute, so beautiful, so eager to start working on it and Taehyung finds himself with a bittersweet taste in his mouth at the thought, of course he is dying to see you naked but he doesn’t want to paint you for your boyfriend. “Oh, and what about the prize?”

“Sounds good. And don’t worry about the prize now, we’ll get to that when I have your portrait completely done.”

You nod your head, smiling kindly at him and start walking towards the door. Taehyung follows you, once again checking you out and damning your boyfriend in his mind for being able to call you his when the fucker is sure not worth even of your time. He’d like to make any excuse to keep you for a longer time there with him, just talking about your lives and getting to know each other but he has three weeks to do that and right now he needs to make an urgent call.

Right before you’re about to leave, he asks for your phone number in case something comes up and any of you have troubles making it to one of the appointments. Bullshit once again but now he has a way to contact you.

Taehyung closes the door and presses his forehead against it, breathing deeply and already tracing a plan in his mind to make you his, as you should be. You’re ethereal, a goddess and you truthfully belong by his side. With that thought in mind, he takes his phone and dials a number. The person at the other end of the call answers almost instantly.

“Yeah, Tae? What is it?”

Taehyung smiles hearing the voice of his friend.

“Hey, Jimin. I need you.”

The next days are a complete blur for both of you and Taehyung and before you notice it’s already been three weeks and the birthday of your boyfriend is upon you.

As Taehyung said, he asked you to visit him thrice a week and made you stay with him from morning until almost night; the first times it was a little awkward for you: getting there, disposing all your clothes and just posing for hours on end naked in front of Taehyung with barely any words shared in between you both. Taehyung made a huge effort in being as slow as he could when painting you, paying an excruciating attention to every curve of your body, touching you here and there (maybe more than he really needed to, but who can blame him? You’re precious) and obsessing over you to limits he didn’t think was possible. Taehyung finally got you to open to him, to start talking about your life, your job, your stupid boyfriend, your passions. Everything, he made you talk about every single aspect of your life and by now he probably knew you better than your own mother. You eventually started eating with him at his studio and surprised yourself spending more time than you should with clothes than without them.

Finally, the last day arrived, Taehyung had finished your portrait and needless to say, it was absolutely perfect. You could recognize yourself, of course, but were still astonished at how pretty he made you look, all your curves were so soft, you never knew someone would look at you and see that. But Taehyung did, he was more than proud of his work for it was by far the best of his large collection; he doesn’t think he was able to truly make you justice, you were way too stunning to actually portray that in a simple painting but it was pretty close to the real thing.

And so, your paths separated. You gave your boyfriend the portrait and he loved it, everything was fine in your life and you were happy, sometimes you got messages from Taehyung asking about your day and the opinion of your boyfriend on the painting but that’s it.

On the other hand, Taehyung was miserable. He misses you terribly. As he suspected, he hasn’t been able to accept any requests for more portraits, too captivated with the memories of you and your body still fresh in his head. But he had a plan to make you come back to him again, he just needed to be patient, just a little more.

And it’s been almost two weeks when, in the middle of the night, he receives a phone call with your name and the first thing he hears when answering is your sobbing and incoherent words. Taehyung smirks, fully awake now, sitting in his bed. He tries to calm you, acting worried and asking what is that has you in such distress. He’s able to make out the words ‘boyfriend’, ‘fight’, ‘photos’ and you asking if you can go to his house. Taehyung accepts almost immediately, getting out of bed so he can get dressed and go pick you up. You reject his offer, explaining that you need time to clear your head and the walk will help you; he doesn’t have any option that agrees even if the idea of you walking alone at three in the morning doesn’t appeal to him at all.

Twenty minutes later, Taehyung is in his kitchen making some tea when he hears a soft knock on his door and smiling cheerfully goes to open you. His smile, though, disappears the moment he sees you: you’re no longer crying but your eyes are red and puffy, and your hair is a complete mess. He is quick to hug you and puts you as close to his body as he can, trying to comfort you at the best of his abilities.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, everything will be fine.” You just stand there in his arms, letting him hug you, with your eyes closed and hearing the softness in his voice, helping you calm your nerves just a little. “Do you want some tea while you tell me what happened?”

You just nod your head and follow him through his apartment, not really paying much attention to your surroundings. Your mind is racing and your hands clutching an envelope against your chest with such strength that your knuckles have turned white.

“Here you go, love”, says Taehyung while offering you a cup of tea. You whisper a simple ‘thank you’ before taking a sip, still grabbing the envelope with one hand. “Do you want to talk now?”

Taehyung sees you struggling, he can almost hear the gears in your head moving and how you are trying to find the words to speak so he stays quiet, giving you all the time of the world until you’re ready to start talking. After what seems like hours for you, you are able to raise your eyes from the table and search for his eyes though you can maintain the look for more than three seconds before your eyes are fixed again on the table.

“I… I’m sorry I’m breaking into your house at this hour, but I didn’t know where else to go or who to call but you...”You look at Taehyung again and see him already looking at you intently, making you swallow and taking another sip of your tea. “My boyfriend received this envelope this morning, he confronted me when I got home from work in the evening and started calling me names and saying not so nice things to me. He- he broke up with me, didn’t even let me explain anything and just started throwing things and he broke the portrait and kept screaming at me, not giving me any chance to talk and then he… he kicked me out of our apartment.”

At this point you were already crying again, and Taehyung can feel his heart shattering into million pieces by seeing you so sad and broken. He cursed your boyfriend, now ex, in his mind and with a worried frown got next to you in order to be able to hold you in his arms again. He was already addicted to the feeling of your body pressed to his, feeling the warmth radiate from you and realizing just how perfect you fit against his figure. He can’t let you go. Never.

“Sh, deep breaths, baby, okay? Breath slowly for me, calm down.” He rubbed your back, feeling you grabbing his t-shirt like your life depended on it and Taehyung absolutely loved that idea.

Some minutes pass by, you trying to calm your sobbing, and Taehyung whispering sweet nothings against your head.

“Can you tell me what the argument was about? What is in that envelope that made your boyfriend so mad?” Taehyung finally asks after you managed to stop crying, he puts some distance between your bodies, enough to see your face and still keeps his arms around your waist.

“It’s… there are photos inside…of us. Of me, naked in front of you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Taehyung, I don’t know how this happened. I can’t comprehend how someone managed to take those disgusting pictures and made it seem as if I was going to sleep with you. And now my boyfriend thinks I’m a whore that cheated on him and he blocked my number and won’t open the door to the apartment, and I don’t know what to do.”

Taehyung keeps silent, thinking about what you just said and turning his gaze to the envelope that now remains on the table. He looks back at you as if asking if he can take a look himself and you just nod softly, not being able to look at him while Taehyung takes it and proceeds to see the photos.

Indeed, they led you to think that something was about to happen in between them, there are plenty of photos of you taking your clothes, smiling at him while naked, moving around his studio in just a shirt, and so on. All of them were taken from the street, from outside and all of them have a clear purpose: destroy both his and your lives.

“Has anyone seen them apart from you and your boyfriend? Are there more copies?”

“No, not that I know at least.”

“I really hope you’re right. We can’t let anyone see these, okay? We have to destroy them.”

Taehyung is serious when talking, looking a little distressed himself and you feel even worse about dragging him with you in this mess.

“I know… I’m really sorry this is happening, Taehyung. I never thought someone would follow me and take those photos, and I’m sorry this is involving you too.”

Taehyung frowned a little at your words, you thought someone could have followed you? For him, it would make more sense to be the other way around: a person he rejected or one of the multiple girls he fucked and never called again trying to mess with him now, trying to ruin his career by making it seems as if he wasn’t professional enough and couldn’t help but getting in the pants of his clients. It could potentially ruin him, no one would ever trust him enough to paint another portrait if those photos see the light of the day.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart, please stop apologizing. I’m sorry if I was a little harsh, I wasn’t expecting this to happen at all, I’m sorry. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Thank you so much, Tae. I truly cannot go to anyone else; all my friends are my boyfriend’s friends as well and I don’t think they’ll take my side on this.” The look on your face, so lost and troubled make him feel almost guilty about the whole situation.

“I understand, love. You can count on me, okay? You can stay with me here in my apartment if you want to, I have enough space.”

“Really? Could I?” Your facial expression changed to be one of relief that makes Taehyung heart jump in his chest and smile at you lovingly while caressing your cheek.

“Of course, love. You can stay here for as long as you want, nothing would make me happier than that. Come, you’ll have to sleep in my bed tonight, though, tomorrow I’ll tidy the room that would be yours.”

You nod in his direction, letting a yawn escape your mouth that almost makes Taehyung coo at you. He guides you to his bedroom, and searches for some clothes he can give you for you to change into. The thought of you dressed in his clothes, in his bed causes him to have problems keeping his breathing stable. While you are in the bathroom, Taehyung takes his phone to write a quick message.

Thank you so much, Jimin. It worked perfectly.

Right when he presses the send button, you enter his room again looking shyly in his direction with a sleepy expression. Taehyung locks his phone and smiles at you, guiding you both to his bed.

You reach out to him, asking for permission to hug him since you’re used to cuddle with something when sleeping and he doesn’t need to think twice until having his arms around you, your head pressed to his chest. He looks at the ceiling, feeling totally content with how things developed, sighing slightly when looking down and seeing you fast asleep already. The screen of his phone lights up but he pays it no mind, closing his eyes and falling asleep with you.

Anytime, Tae. Enjoy your prize ;).

#yandere taehyung #yandere bts #yandere hoseok #yandere jimin #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere #bts #yandere au #taehyung au

241 notes · View notes

phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

Note

Ultimately in general, do you think Paul is into men? Or like do you think he tried something with guys?

(I just wanna take 2 seconds to say that ive been taking painkillers recently, and although they’re pretty mild, they still leave me a bit disoriented. So if im talking utter rubbish - that seems out of the ordinary to usual nonsense - that might be why)

In my ever so humble opinion, I don’t think Paul is bisexual/gay, and ill outline my main reasons for believing he is straight:

1. Paul has stated that he is straight, and has never claimed to be bisexual/gay

Paul has been known to lie in interviews, and with him being an 80 year old man, whose been married 3 times with children, and is one of the most iconic, beloved and respected figures of the 20th century, it is understandable why he might want to keep his bisexuality concealed (assuming that he is bi). Its a lot of pressure to put on one person - and if you include the addition of him having a relationship with John, thats even more pressure. If he were to reveal he had a relationship with John, he would be all alone in that declaration, because of course John is not here to stand with him. Plus, he’d be changing the entire narrative to the Beatles breakup; and id assume that if him and John did have a sexual/romantic relationship, there must be parts that were messy, and mean-spirited. We know how dark the breakup was, even without the involvement of sex/romance. Paul tends to resist talking about heavier subjects, so I think an interviewer would have a lot of trouble discussing sexuality with Paul. So of course its possible Paul could be lying, and he has a reason to; but I do think that his word is worth something, and the fact that he has never identified himself as being bi is still something worth accounting for. It doesn’t have to be end of every discussion concerning Pauls sexuality, after all, there were times John appeared to claim he wasn’t bi, but its still just a factor to consider.

2. The lack of rumours concerning Pauls sexuality

When it comes to John, we have the word of several people to account for his sexuality (eg. Yoko, Pete Townsend, David Bowie) - and even John’s own words validate this. Of course, John could’ve been kidding with every comment he made about his bisexuality, and I suppose it is something we’ll never know the real answer to; but I feel we have enough reason here to at least doubt and call into question Johns sexuality. But with Paul, there appears to be few people accounting for him being anything other then straight. Rumours are obviously not the most reliable sources in the world, but they’d at least be suggestive of something. I get the feeling that with John, his bisexuality might have been a sort of “open secret” amongst many (“John Lennon had reputedly spoken to mutual friends of his own experiments [with homosexuality]” - Pete Townsend). And perhaps Paul being bisexual is an “open secret”, but ive personally never heard anyone make that claim, so I just wouldn’t be able to say with any real certainty.

And in fairness, as a few different people have pointed out, it could just be that Paul has a great PR team - I mean, he very rarely seems to have an controversies, so it must be a pretty damn good PR team - but then again, it could also just be that there has never been a substantiated claim to Paul having had sexual/romantic relations with another man. Perhaps we’ll find out more once Paul (I hate to say) dies, but for now, we remain at a loss.

3. The evidence for Paul being bisexual overall just isn’t strong enough for me

There are things that might make me doubt my belief that Paul is heterosexual. I can see the argument for song lyrics supposedly being telling of the truer nature of their relationship (eg. Dear Boy, The Long And Winding Road, Oh Darling!, Coming Up, Call Me Back Again). Even the Lennon/McCartney breakup on a whole shows a profound emotional turmoil between the two, that is somewhat evocative of a breakup between lovers. And then of course, there are the looks and off-hand remarks that maybe tell us something about the two. But at the end of the day, none of these things are concrete enough to convince me that Paul is bisexual, or that him and John had a full-blown relationship; it just feels like speculation to me. And I think we run a danger to some extent in pointing to things like “song lyrics” as certain evidence that Paul is attracted to men (specifically, John), because the way people express and articulate themselves is complicated and messy, and somewhat difficult to comprehend. Especially with lyrics as an art form, they are not always as straight forward as we may perceive them to be. The “evidence” that I would consider the most reliable, are probably things either Paul or John have said in interviews, or anecdotes involving the two (especially from the breakup). But as I said before, its just not concrete enough for me.

As for your second question, id hazard a guess to say he tried something, at least once, with a guy. I couldn’t prove this, but I just feel like most people will experiment at least once with someone of the same sex, and with Paul being an already-progressive guy who has knowingly surrounded himself with and supported gay people for decades, I feel like at some point or another maybe he just tested the waters y’know. Like he’s probably at least kissed a guy, just to find out. But like I said, I cant prove that claim, but its just a guess from me.

If anyone has any “evidence” - I always feel a bit silly for some reason saying “evidence” when discussing someones sexuality - concerning Pauls sexuality that I didn’t discuss here, or disagrees with anything ive said, feel free to challenge me on this! I am intrigued to hear why you guys believe Paul is bi!

#pauls sexuality #bisexuality #paul #mclennon #discussion #anon #asks #opinion #just my thoughts

20 notes · View notes

redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barns imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

1K notes · View notes

vickyvicarious · 3 years

Note

Moreau’s anger in the famous scene with Nate (“a 24yo genius w/ a problem with authority”) is scary. he’s so contained, saying things that coming from the usual bad guy of the week would be ranted, shouted - but he’s so controlled in his anger

So I was thinking about this ask a lot as I was watching the last two episodes of S3. Because it really is true, he is always so controlled. I counted how many times he raises/loses control of his voice and it really wasn't a lot:

At the end of the Big Bang Job, when Nate is going on and on about how he is framing Moreau. He goes from calm and amused to more and more frustrated, and - just once - raises his voice. He snaps, "Who ARE you?!" But then immediately pulls his face back under control. The penultimate picture on this post is literally one second after he yells; he reins it all back in.

When he just saw Eliot on TV petting a puppy and claiming the president held dogfights. When he turns to face Reberra and reassure him this is all under control, despite being obviously very fed up with the crew messing with his election, his voice - only once - goes down into a growl as he says "Tonight, you bury him at the debate. Tomorrow, he loses in what will be the closest election in years. Which frankly only helps legitimize you, so RELAX." Just on that very last word, the rest of the time he does a good job of sounding reassuring and even a little unphased.

When the election results are being counted. "Too close to call. TOO CLOSE TO CALL, how'd you let it get this far?!" This is pretty much the only time he rants in frustration, and even then he quickly pulls himself together. Puts on a convincing show of being unbothered moments later.

Even in that final confrontation with Nate, he finds himself at a loss for words, he is furious and unsure of what to do - but his voice stays quiet and intent. You can hear him seething, but only a few times. He doesn't really lose control per se, not until he is literally being dragged away. Right up until that very second he just gets thoughtful and is staring off into the distance, trying to process how this happened and what he can do to get out of it.

When you consider just how much the crew was pushing all of his buttons, that is not a lot at all. Definitely less than we would usually see from other villains. And that's not exactly a coincidence, because...

Moreau is someone who has built his entire empire on control.

He moves money around for other people, makes sure never to get his own hands dirty. Even the hitmen he sends are trained to not leave any evidence behind - that one guy they scared out with the fire alarm still took the time to clean the room and collect any shell casings, and Eliot confirmed that is expected for someone working for Moreau. He's perfected the art of not laying a trail of evidence, to the point that the crew had to use someone else's crimes to get to him both times they went up against him. They couldn't prove his criminal empire so they instead framed him for stuff the Italian had done. Then he just hid away in the country he'd bought and was doing fine. Once there, they couldn't expose his part in the election so they rigged it even more than he was, and took advantage of the greed of Reberra to get him to turn against him. Nate wasn't lying when he said "honestly, no [we stood no chance against you]."

Moreau doesn't work with people he doesn't know. He just won't do it. He manipulates and abuses his own people, as is evident with Eliot. The entire pool scene is rife with Moreau proving again and again and again that he is not willing to let anyone else hold the cards. He has it drilled into them that they can either be assets or liabilities, and everyone knows what he does to liabilities. People are terrified to turn on him, and pretty much no one willingly does. Moreau understands the value of public perception, so he makes sure that he is pandering to the UN and not immediately eliminating his rivals in San Lorenzo until the election is over, but it's very clear that he would not hesitate otherwise. The fact that he chooses to wait is extremely deliberate as well; he's calculated the odds, and hurting the crew isn't worth it. Yet. No matter how much he hates them, he is willing to wait. He doesn't let emotion rule him.

Even his body language - he smiles. He is deliberately relaxed when others are worked up or when the situation is tense. (Casually sips his drink as Hardison drowns in the pool, laughs at Nate's accusations about him being a terrible person even as he's losing the election.) When he's truly, truly furious, when things aren't going at all as planned - he goes still. In the Big Bang Job, he holds his hands together in front of him and doesn't make a move to step towards Nate. When Eliot is rushing him, he levels the gun and shoots the Italian with deliberate aim, then turns and leaves in a hurry, but by no means running for his life. Then in San Lorenzo, he goes still and dangerous several times when he knows he can't make a move against the crew yet, but the biggest example is when President Reberra signs his arrest warrant. Moreau just stands there, hands on the desk, quiet and still and so thoughtful. It's only, again, when he is literally being dragged away and he realizes there's nothing he can do that he finally loses his iron control and struggles to get away. Until then he always, always tries to stay calm and cool and even relaxed, projecting an unbothered image of implacable power.

It's one of the scariest things about Moreau, this complete control over himself and his people. It means he thinks things through, you just can't get him to react rashly. He's not someone you can con. So the team works around this by, and I love this - turning his perfect control from an asset into a liability. They know he will have the election news on lockdown, so they manipulate everyone else to believe it was their victory. They know he wouldn't risk harming them in front of the world's eyes, so they pretend to harm themselves. They know he has abused the system to lock up his rivals and take all their assets, so they do the very same thing to him. They literally don't do anything he hasn't already planned around (sure, they use methods he hasn't thought of as viable, emailing everyone in the country for example, but the core of the idea isn't anything new to him). They just figure out what he wants to avoid happening and then they make it happen, which only succeeds because he is so determined to ensure it doesn't. If he'd been more ruthless, more short-sighted... they couldn't have won.

#leverage #leverage meta #damien moreau #anonymous #replies #my meta #sorry this took so long to answer! i was almost at the moreau eps so i wanted to watch them first #and then i ended up taking several days to get around to it #but i'm glad i did because this was very much on my mind while watching

53 notes · View notes

leftonraed · 4 years

Text

The Night We Met - Episode 1

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.4k summary — Taehyung gets terrible news and finds himself in a delicate situation

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

The past month has been a complete blur. If you asked Taehyung to narrate the course of events after the moment he had been in charge of his niece, he wouldn’t be able to, especially when that small time frame included the one event he thought he’d never attend this quickly in his lifetime —

Hwiin got a little startled after he answered the door. While gauging his mood after several weeks of silence, she couldn’t take her eyes off the sullen man who seemed absent.

He was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was fully covering his eyes and had been dyed black, she was just at that moment able to notice it’d never been that long before.

The small heels of his shoes echoed loudly inside as he shuffled towards the living-room.

The gloomy winter sky, visible through the wide windows, narrowed the penthouse and gave the impression they lived in a black and white movie.

The shades of grey clashed unpleasantly with the barely audible cartoons displayed on the wide flat screen where Hina was sitting in front of. She hardly glanced Hwiin’s way.

She removed her purse and coat and put them on the couch while Taehyung kissed and whispered words to his niece. He didn’t get any response either. He stood up and joined Hwiin.

“I didn’t know how to do this-” he trailed softly as her eyes followed his hands feebly unfolding a paper with her eyes. He cleared his throat constricted with sorrow, “I wrote a couple of things down. If I forgot anything, send a text.”

She took it from him and realised she hadn’t said anything yet. What were you supposed to say in this situation, she wondered. The man she thought she knew so well almost struck her as a stranger and left her struggling for the right words.

Hwiin carefully looked up at him and felt her heart hurting at his sight. She should’ve been there for him those past weeks. She became angry with herself the longer she stared at his forlorn expression.

“Taehyung...” She hugged him tightly, as her way to make it up to him. He remained still. He didn’t want Hina to see him break down and cry.

“Thank you,” he only managed to whisper before she took a step back.

She quietly watched him walk out and never before had she felt a greater need to be by his side. She didn’t do anything of this sort.

She walked around the couch to sit next to the little girl she had been requested to look after for the day and tried to empty her mind. All she wanted was for this day to end.

So did he.

___________________________________________

He didn’t seem present during the entirety of the funeral.

His parents, he used to be so close to but had drawn away from after his debut as an idol, didn’t even manage to make him say anything. They didn’t bother him about it and respected his own way of mourning the family loss.

Taehyung could sense his brother’s in-laws itching to ask him about Hina but held themselves.

While he made other attendees think he looked elsewhere and “too expressionless” in their opinion, he’d actually been doing his best to keep it to himself. He couldn’t tell what helped him hide his emotions, it was so unlike him but he had held steady.

He was right behind his home’s door when he heard Hina’s cries before he even walked in.

Worry instantly frowned his face as he found Hwiin holding the little girl in her arms, soothing her.

“She’s been crying the whole time since she woke up from her nap,” she informed him with a hint of despair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hina looked at him and he felt his feet naturally pulling him towards her when her arms stretched outward in his direction.

He held her closely and she tightened him to herself, burying her face in his neck.

He would never know for sure but she sounded grief-stricken and gave him the impression that he was the only one left capable of assuaging her.

Taehyung felt his legs give in and knelt down.

He was finally giving in.

Tears, held deeply back within, coursed down in an unbroken stream to dampen her dress. His body hiccoughed his ache so violently, it seemed it wanted to retaliate for the strains he’d inflicted himself.

Hwiin watched silently with sorrowful eyes as the two of them sought comfort in each other. She caught herself wondering if his niece somehow understood she’d never see her parents again.

__________________________________________

Taehyung never questioned his brother’s wish to have him take care of his daughter if something were to happen. He isn’t living the ideal kind of life to raise a toddler and there are many to criticize him about it, his manager being the first of them, but having Hina feels surprisingly right.

He’s grateful to have her keeping his mind off things but she also reminds him unintentionally of her father and the other way around will inevitably happen.

He sometimes ponders the doubts he has as a caretaker, unpleasant thoughts that come flooding his mind every time he’d fail doing the right thing or get rejected by her; he gives a chance to others scenarios playing out different outcomes but they never satisfy him.

He seeks comfort in the reality that he needs a lot of time to get better at it and that there’s no reason to rush. It’ll give him enough to make his mind about the way he’ll have to address their reality one day.

One of his priorities is to make sure his home has everything his niece would need. This meant visiting his brother’s empty house. Hwiin had asked him if he’d need her but he preferred to be on his own and planned not to linger longer than necessary.

__________________________________________

“You didn’t tell me what you’re planning to do about the few shows left,” Hwiin suddenly initiates, locking her phone.

Taehyung sighs when Hina whines at his umpteenth attempts to keep her from drawing on the wall. Defeated, he stands up to show his manager out.

“Did you hear from Seojun?”

“Nope. I sent him a text a few days ago. He never answers my calls.”

“I can’t see myself going anywhere with her. And I’m definitely not bringing her with me.”

It’s Hwiin’s turn to sigh, although she does it out of light exasperation. “What about my babysitter idea?”

“Out of question.” She lifts her head at his sudden firm tone. “I don't want her to be around strangers.”

“What will you do if you don’t hear from him anymore? Taehyung, you can’t stay at home indefinitely.”

“If I have no choice-” He cuts off himself. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

She pinches her lips and cranes her neck up to stare somewhere in the empty hallway, keeping her calm.

Leaning on the hand he’s holding the door with, Taehyung tilts his head to glance at her with a hint of amusement.

“I’ll call him myself.”

She looks back at him and blinks slowly, thankful. They say their goodbyes and he closes the door.

When he comes back, Hina’s still putting the finishing touches to her art and Taehyung ponders the thought of throwing the felt tips away once she’s done with them.

He plops himself down on the couch and takes his phone out of his pocket. He quickly finds his bodyguard’s number and makes a phone call. The line rings once.

“Taehyung!”

“H-hi,” he answers, surprised at the man’s quick answer. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m happy you called! I’m doing really good. What about you?”

“I’m okay- I think.”

“I know you’ve heard it when we last talked but I’m really, really sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m doing okay, ‘promise.”

Seojun doesn’t need to see him to doubt his words but gives him the benefit of the doubt. He tries to change the subject, “How’s the little one doing?”

“Good…” Taehyung’s gaze is directed at Hina's long hair. “I still didn’t get one word from her though.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’ll talk when she’s ready. You shouldn’t force these things.”

Taehyung hums in thought. “How did your break go? How’s everyone ?”

“Very good. Everyone’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear that!” Taehyung smiles a lazy grin and remembers the purpose of his call. “Seojun, I’m sorry I bring this a little abruptly but- when do you think you’ll be coming back? Hwiin told me she tried to contact you-”

“Ah yes,” he suddenly exclaims. “I actually wanted to talk to you directly.”

Amused, Taehyung’s brows furrow slightly. “Right.”

“I’ve never liked the way she looked down on people. But you do well to bring that up.”

He frowns a little more, anticipating.

“I… I don’t think I’ll be coming back anytime soon, Taehyung.” There’s a short pause. “I've been thinking about it lately and we’ve talked a lot with my wife… The fact is that- my family misses me and I miss them.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say immediately, “I’m sorry to hear that... But I understand.”

“Really? It’s just that- they’ve barely seen me the past six years and I thought maybe I needed to extend that break for a little longer while.” Seojun feels terrible now that he’s brought the news. As if the death of his brother wasn’t enough of a change.

“I totally do- I just- I don’t know what to do to keep working and look after my niece at the same time. I mean, th- there’s no one else I trust equally to look after her when I can’t.”

“I know and I’ve made sure you guys wouldn’t be left hanging.” He’s quick to reply, “I found someone to take over. Your agency’s already abreast of it. They’re okay to hire that person but they told me they wouldn’t make any decision until they get your last word.”

“Can you tell me more about him?”

“It’s actually a woman, she’s around your age. She’s attended the same security school I did and was the top of her class. I know her personally and was the one who offered to take the helm. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else to stand in for me.”

Taehyung would never doubt Seojun. They regard each other as family, so if Seojun trusted that woman enough to take charge of his responsibilities, he wouldn’t question him further.

“Okay.”

And it’s not like he could think of a better solution to tell Hwiin.

Seojun is relieved when he hears his answer, however he can feel he doesn’t seem totally convinced.

“I promise you, you won’t miss me once she starts.”

___________________________________________

“Hina,” complains Taehyung. “Why are you being so difficult? I thought you liked mashed carrots.”

He’s helpless and covered in what once has been her lunch. She’s on the verge of crying and shaking her legs, irritated. Her arm sways her small plate and Taehyung catches it before she makes an even bigger mess. She starts whining loudly.

“One second,” he mutters while cleaning her stained face before standing up to take her out of the high chair. She stops crying and leaves to watch cartoons still on T.V.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be in the bedroom,” he announces like he doesn’t know he’ll be ignored and leaves.

The doorbell rings a couple of minutes after, taking both Taehyung and Hina by surprise.

Seeing her uncle nowhere around, she stands up to totter toward the entrance holding onto her soft toy. Taehyung just got rid of his dirty clothes when he decides to come out only dressed in a pair of red boxers, remembering he’s expecting Hwiin to come by.

He finds Hina trying to reach for the handle, perched on her tippy-toes.

“Let me help you,” he smiles lightly at her when he looks down, seeing her small face after she craned her neck to the fullest. He taps in the security code and opens and she hurries to push it wide open.

“Hello.”

Hina walks to go behind him at the sight of a stranger. There’s a short silent while that lasts awfully long the second Taehyung understands he’s in his underwear and that he doesn’t recognize you.

“You’re not Hwiin,” he trails quietly.

You shake your head looking back at him very calmly.

From the corner of your eye, you notice his niece hiding behind his leg, peeking shyly at you. You squat at her level and blood rushes up Taehyung’s cheeks.

“You’re Hina, right?” You look at her. “This is for you.”

He pulls himself together. “You didn’t have to,” he chuckles abashed.

His niece stares at the toy piano you offer her. You press one key to make a sound and lit it up in hopes to get her pleased with it.

Taehyung can’t help but think a gift is the last thing she deserves after the tantrum she threw just minutes ago. “Say thank you, Hina.”

She carefully takes it from you and there’s a hint of a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Who’s Hwiin?” You gaze up at Taehyung.

Shit. You need to get up. He needs to put on some clothes, he thinks.

“My manager. Are you-”

“Y/N, your new bodyguard.” You straighten up with your hands behind you.

“Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” He feels Hina, pulling the hem of his boxers and swiftly takes her in his arms. She keeps an iron grip on the toy. “Uh- Please, come in.”

You step inside when he moves away and closes the door behind you. He stares at you as you take a look around, surprised you remain unaffected by his lack of clothing but still thinks it’s not the appropriate way he should have welcomed you in.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I didn’t know you’d come home so early.” He explains as he puts down Hina. “Make yourself at home. ‘Be right back.”

You watch him disappear without a word, his niece follows him while gazing curiously at you. You bring your eyes back on the splendid view the penthouse overlooks.

When Taehyung comes back, closely followed, you’re still standing nearby the window. He’s intrigued and curious as to what made you so special in Seojun’s eyes.

///////////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback very much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

#taehyung smut #taehyung scenarios #Taehyung fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #taehyung angst #bts imagines #bts reactions #Taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

157 notes · View notes

michibikionmain · 3 years

Text

Dream Dies in the Prison AU

me: i am going to work on art today

my brain: dream is accidentally murdered by tommy in the fight instead au-

so anyways here's some very angsty and indulgent thoughts! tw for violence/gore mention, toxic dynamics, and death, mostly just canon-typical levels of everything! If I’m missing any important warnings, let me know

The main idea is that the fight between Dream and Tommy in prison from yesterday’s stream has the opposite outcome: instead of Dream killing Tommy, Tommy fights back stronger and is able to kill Dream, who has been weakened by almost a month of sitting in prison where he couldn’t exactly get out and exercise/move much puffy was so sad tommy died and that wasn't even her real son,,, imagine her reaction 2 finding out that her real son was being tortured by one of her closest friends... and died for it... All the guilt she felt for not being able to protect Tommy? That’s multiplied like a hundred times because she disowned him. She didn’t even try helping Dream, she had been too caught up in her own failures that she couldn’t see how bad things were for him. It’s like her mixed belief on exile, where Tommy deserved to be punished, but not tortured. She doesn’t think ANYONE should be tortured because that doesn’t help anyone! Not even Dream! Puffy had trusted Sam, one of the kindest and most understanding people she knew, to punish him but also rehabilitate and help him get better. And knowing that it was Tommy, who she thought had CHANGED and gotten better, who killed Dream in the end? She’s falling apart. All she wanted was her family to be happy, for the server to be fun and not full of death and torture but she couldn’t figure out how to break the cycle.

Maybe she starts to think more sympathetically towards Dream, maybe she wonders if everything falling apart wasn’t entirely his fault. Puffy already hates the factions on the server, what if that intensifies as she comes to realize that it was the creation of these factions that drove Dream into an unstable position where he ended up locked in an inhumane prison, weak enough to be killed by a child.

Tommy would be torn up, naturally, but I imagined he'd keep trying to play it off like "well big man deserved it after all the shit he did on the server! just have his ghost get the dumb book and we can bring back the people that matter" because his reaction to bad situations is to ignore the bad aspects and only focus on how they can help or affect him bc of the Trauma. Dream was just the villain... if he didn’t kill Dream, Dream would’ve killed him... there wasn’t another way. There is lots of denial and repression in order to not have to accept that reality of the situation he’s been stuck in. His trauma response is a victim complex, and that very much comes into play here.

The Kinoko kingdom/El Rapids boys are.... they're so lost because FUCK if I’m not writing Feral Boys Friendship into the story

Sapnap knew things in prison were that bad- He SAW Dream, he saw how desperate and shaken and upset he was and even questioned if that was his Dream anymore, but... seeing his emotional brother killed like that? And knowing he never even got to TRY and improve himself? he's upset that he didn't try to help him sooner. The fact that it was Tommy that killed him too? Yeah that sits horribly with him, since him and Tommy were the ones that ones who started the disk wars together that ended with him trapped in the prison that Sapnap helped

Karl is just out of it because of the Time Travel things. He can't control his time travelling despite how much he just wants to go back and make sure no one dies in that cell but he can't. It's fate, they can't both leave that cell alive. And it only helps to escalate his memory loss and the feeling of helplessness he feels at not being able to stop everything that's happened on the server.

Quackity is... confused Wasn't Dream the source of conflict on the server? Why the hell was he dead? Everything was Dream's fault... right? It can't be Tommy tied into the heart of all the problems on the server too, it was just Dream, their villain-- His entire grounding that's based on complete good versus evil and justice is SO shaken by this, especially after seeing how much it upsets the rest of his friends who couldn't just write him off as a one sided villain. The character development potential here is strong and I love it

We might not get actual George lore but FUCK if I am not adding him in the AU because i think his character has interesting potential. fuck this stupid good actor boy and the fact that he just doesn't wanna be involved. George was only barely aware that Dream had even been put in prison. Most people were too scared to talk to him about it in fear of upsetting him and thus incurring the wrath of the god and world that loved him so much that it put him to sleep any time he had a real chance of danger, but when he does manage to find out what happened in there, from Sam, his father/older brother figure of all people... who is at least partially responsible... oh boy. that's not gonna be a pretty confrontation part of him wants the world just to swallow him back into sleep, not permanently but like before: only waking him when he can be safe and happy. His dreams are happier anyways, because there the big happy family of the server is still together and they never split apart and the wars were all just games. the other part? the other part wants revenge on the cursed world that dared take away the only things that had mattered to him: his best friend, and his peaceful ignorance.

The only reason he’d even been waking up more was because Dream was less aware of everything going on outside now that he was in prison, and thus couldn’t compel the world to protect him in Dream’s stead. The world put him to sleep and loved him because Dream, while a separate being than the god DreamXD, is connected to the world and server, and loved George so much that his desire to protect him spread into the world. The world can’t protect him or be driven by that desire with Dream dead, though, so no more enchanted gogy sleeping through everything because of magic.

I have so many more cool ideas but if any1 would like to share more...

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp au #dsmp au #dreamwastaken #Dream Team #sapnap #quackity #karl jacobs #captain puffy #tommyinnit #dreamnotfound #at least theres dnf undertones anyways-#Warden Sam #awesamdude

49 notes · View notes

oneiriad · 4 years

Note

A potential prompt for you: What if, contrary to Wen Qing's belief, it was actually possible to re-form one's core when one has it taken out (rather than burned out by Wen Zhuliu)? It just requires a lot more concentration and self-discipline than forming it as a teen/the first time?

Nobody can really find it within themselves to be mad at Jin Ling for letting it slip. He’s young and that night at the Temple had been a crowded, confusing, traumatic time for all of them.

It’s not his fault that he couldn’t remember exactly who had been a) present and b) conscious during which revelations.

And really, a nice, private working lunch for just the four major sect leaders during the latest discussion conference in Gusu - is not the worst place he could have made a throwaway comment about Wei Wuxian’s golden core or - rather - his lack thereof.

“It’s funny, though,” he tells Sizhui, later, once his uncle Jiang Cheng has stopped yelling at him (because that’s how Uncle expresses his emotions, even when he’s not really angry), “’cause Uncle and Zewu-Jun both pretty much froze as soon as the words were out of my mouth- Zewu-Jun even had his hand raised as if he was just about to use freaky silence spell you Lans have. That’s when I remembered that Sect Leader Nie had been out cold during that whole bit, and we all looked at him, except - he was just doodling and didn’t look up at us until he noticed it’d gone quiet. And then he frowned at us, before going “ah” and folding his fan...”

But anyway, nobody - least of all his Uncle Wei - can find it within themselves to blame Jin Ling for the fact that Nie Huaisang now definitely knows.

It’s not like people weren’t eventually going to start finding out anyway...

***

The biannual Qinghe Games were not officially one of the various occasions for the cultivation world to assemble and - in good times - mingle. This was because they were mostly organized and financed by the Qinghe Merchants’ Guild with some donations - mostly prices and plenty freshly caught boars for the banquet - supplied by an anonymous local sponsor and most of the speech-making and problem solving falling to the Emperor’s local officials.

Nevertheless, the Games generally attracted quite a few cultivators, rogues as well as those affiliated with major and minor sects. Not quite enough on most occasions to make non-cultivators entirely give up on participating in the archery contests, but even when that happened the high point of the games remained the polo, where well bred horses was a far greater advantage than any golden core.

The invitations, delivered by a somewhat harried Nie disciple at the gates of the Cloud Recesses, were written in the most aesthetically pleasing calligraphy and distributed by a couple of the younger Lan disciples, who had already mastered the art of not exactly running.

Well, most of them. One of the invitations caused the senior disciple passing them on to frown and eventually send for young Lan Sizhui, reasoning that it would be preferable to trust the youth rather than sending yet another junior disciple off to fall under the spell of the dark forces outside their walls.

Said dark forces spent a fair amount of time staring at the words of the invitation.

“Are you sure this is meant for me?” Wen Ning repeated, and Sizhui repeated his assurances that there had been no mistake.

“Oh.”

***

Wei Wuxian hadn’t seen a lot of Wen Ning since they’d all arrived at Qinghe. They’d all been getting settled in some very comfortable guest quarters at the Unclean Realm, fresh from the road, when Nie Huaisang had appeared to greet them surprisingly briefly and then proceed to steal his fierce corpse.

He might be worried what the Nie sect leader was getting up to with Wen Ning, except he’d gotten the occasional glimpse of them in the days since. During the archery contest they’d sat next to one another at the viewing platform, Wen Ning clearly entranced by the competition.

It was nice to think that Wen Ning was making friends.

It was less nice to get ambushed by them.

It had been a pleasant day - watching polo matches with Lan Zhan at his side, happily buying him various treats from the roaming vendors, then just strolling around and having a quiet dinner at a local restaurant.

It had been a bit less pleasant and a bit more suspicious to come back to their rooms and find a small stack of paper on the desk and a Wen Ning who looked at once guilty and excited sitting next to a very suspicious looking Nie Huaisang (though, to be fair, Wei Wuxian could hardly be blamed for always feeling that Huaisang looked suspicious).

It was Lan Zhan who sank gracefully down behind the desk to examine the papers, picking them up and starting to read. Then he froze - just for a moment, and anybody who didn’t know him well might have missed the widening of his eyes, but not Wei Wuxian - before going through them with startling haste.

Lan Zhan put down the final piece of paper and turned to Nie Huaisang.

“Will this work?”

“It should. That’s why I needed Wen-gongzi. I needed somebody who would know the more technical aspects of how Wen Qing accomplished what she did. If it was similar enough.”

“Similar enough to what?” Wei Wuxian demanded, picking up a conveniently close jar of Emperor’s Smile to gesticulate with. “What is this, Nie-gongzi?”

It’s Lan Zhan who answers, though.

“It’s a training program. For reforming a golden core.”

Wei Wuxian drops the jar and almost chokes on the wine he was just pouring down his throat.

“What? How - how do you even have something like that?” he demands, once he’s done sputtering.

“As you know, my Nie sect’s cultivation comes with - some very unfortunate side effects. Over the years, different techniques have been tried to stall the qi deviations. One of the more successful in that regard, though the side effects make it one rarely used and utterly unsuited for any truly powerful cultivator, is the careful removal of the golden core. If done correctly, this is followed by a few years of hard training and a new golden core will form.”

Wei Wuxian is rarely at a loss for words, but just this once - just this once, he finds that he needs to let Lan Zhan do the talking for him instead of the other way around.

“Side effects?”

“Irrelevant in this case. The side effects are from the first part of the process, and to be perfectly frank, the most significant one is needing to temporarily pass a significant part of the cultivator’s control of his saber into the hands of a trusted fellow Nie disciple for the duration - which is not a problem Wei-gongzi would be facing anyway.”

“Years?”

“It’s not a fast process. From what I understand, it requires as much unlearning and undoing as it does forming the actual new core. But it can be done. It has been done. And I am confident that if anybody would be able to find ways to speed up the process, surely it will be the renowned Yiling Laozu.”

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #specifically the untamed

294 notes · View notes

lizacstuff · 3 years

Text

Sen Çal Kapımı episode 47 asks

Below the read more find asks and answers about episode 47, the fragman for 48 and other miscellaneous things.

(UNDER THE CUT)

Anonymous asked: Hi! I hope you are enjoying your vacation. I remember you mentioned you would be traveling. What were your thoughts on the epi? I think this was one episode where everything was happy! No big problems. The truth about Kemal being Serkan's dad could have been dramatic but Ayse and team wrote it like a romcom. I'm not really feeling the Deniz being the saviour of Artlife like they are portraying in the fragmans but I'll wait for the next epi to make a judgement.

Thank you. Once again, I though the whole episode was a really easy watch and I enjoyed every minute.

I really appreciate the tone this season, even something as series as Serkan’s parentage is played lightly, as you say very much rom com, and not full of heavy melodrama (as it would have been if explored during the 30s). This is exactly the tone and feel of this show that I want.

Serkan’s reaction was predictable, but it was also clear that he just needed time to adjust and settle down and he’ll come around. I like that.

I don’t have time this week to do full episode thoughts, but I enjoyed Serkan and Eda’s morning after conversation. Hilarious that he’d removed all the sharp objects from the room. Loved that after all of Eda’s fear-fueled reticence, once she decided to take the plunge with him, she was all in. Eda admitting that she’d been unbalanced and had been at fault for hiding Kiraz,--and acknowledging that Serkan had been fighting for them and now she wanted to as well-- was very nice. After running a bit hot and cold, Serkan deserved to hear that.

lolo-deli asked: Hard to believe we didn't get a reconciliation scene in 47... Nobody expected sex but we couldn't even get a hug or kiss when they made up? "I want to see that tattoo" was not the romantic reunion I was hoping for. Were you at all disappointed?

IMO, we did see the important part of the reconciliation, and that was the conversation. Sure, I think we should have seen Serkan and Eda kiss in the last episode. If I were in charge we would have, but I don’t think the story actually loses anything because it’s not a mystery what happened.

Clearly, he says the tattoo line and they jump each other, make their way to the bedroom, have sex, but don’t really communicate until the morning when she wakes up, and that’s where the show picks up and we get to see those first important moments.

If you’re looking for romance, then I would point to everything that led up to that tattoo line in 46. That entire episode (and the one before it) was their romantic reconciliation. Moments alone where he takes in her scent and whispers how much he’s missed her, waking up in bed together when they just automatically gravitate to one another, the moments of pretending to be married that were very comedic, but also very soft and romantic (What’s your greatest passion, what’s the first line you ever said to one another), the heartfelt conversation on the bench, the actual tattoo conversation at dinner. That’s the romantic reunion. Yes, if they had just reunited after years (like in episode 40) right before the tattoo line, I would have needed more romance, but we’ve had 7 episodes of them working their way back to one another. Everything was primed, all they needed was to light the match. IMO that line did the trick.

So, am I disappointed? No. I’m happy to go with the flow and enjoy every minute of what they do give us in these last few episodes. I choose not to get tied up in what I wish would happen vs what actually happens. I find I don’t enjoy any show when I put the onus on the show to conform to my wishes.

Some might be disappointed, that’s their choice, (and make no mistake, it is a choice) but that’s not how I’m approaching this second season which is serving up so much romance, comedy, and domestic family goodness. I suffered through the 30s so I could get to this, I’m not going to waste any of it being disappointed.

Anonymous asked: Idk why this proposal was the most emotional out of them all for me. Perhaps with the other ones I just KNEW the other shoe had to drop because they couldn't let them get happily married this early and this time I knew it was finally it. Or maybe it was the fact that knowing they're married means the show really is ending soon, but I was a blubbering mess lol. Sure there's drama ahead, but it's definitely not a plane crash and memory loss or a "fake" Selin pregnancy!

Yes! Thank goodness we don’t have any of that nonsense waiting for us. They are really going to be married.

I enjoyed this proposal very much, it was so sweet the way he planned everything out and had everyone helping, while Eda (and even sort of the audience) was in the dark about what was really going on there.

For me, as far as the words spoken, nothing really tops his speech to her in 27, but the great thing is that we get them all and this was special in it’s own right because he really surprised her and swept her off her feet this time around. I loved it!

Anonymous asked: So I am confused about Serkan’s ability to have kids- it’s not a problem now? If him being infertile was only temporary, why did he say it was impossible to have kids and it was a part of why he left Eda in the first place so she could have it somewhere else? They could’ve just waited a couple years to have kids then...? I know he also left her cause he was scared of dying but they really made his reaction seem like he’d NEVER be able to have kids

My assumption is that since they were able to have Kiraz, they know it’s possible, so even if it won’t be easy (and fertility is usually not a hard yes/ no line... mostly it’s a measure of how likely it is) they are choosing to believe they will be able to conceive again.

If you’re looking to change what his assumptions were when they first broke up and he thought he was unable to have kids (and that there was a 70% chance the cancer would come back) and deciding he should have made different decisions based on the fact that he was able to father Kiraz... to be blunt you’re looking at it the wrong way.

At that time, he thought he would never be able to have kids. Full stop. The fact that wasn’t necessarily true doesn’t change what he believed at the time.

Anonymous asked: serkan being the overly protective, worrying, affectionate baba is EXACTLY what i imagined, as i'm sure everyone else did. who else would worry about the pH balance of the soap at their daughter's preschool?! serkan thinking his angel can do no wrong.. of course it was all can's plan to hide them in the bathroom lmao. i hope, and with how this season is going i think we'll get it, we get to see this serkan in action when eda is pregnant too.. even if we just see a couple minutes of it!

YES! I loved overly protective Serkan. Thankfully, for Kiraz’s sake he has Eda (who might be a bit too far the other way) to balance him out. I agree that it was hilarious how he was trying to blame sweet Can. Even without seeing what happened, I’m pretty sure anyone else who had spent two minutes with those kids would figure out who the instigator was. When rabble rousing is going on, I think it’s fair to point to the offspring of Serkan Bolat and Eda Yildiz as the cause, lmao.

It would be great it we got to see glimpses of Serkan as an expectant father and also the father of a newborn. I would love that.

Anonymous asked: I see that the "Nitpick of the Week" as I'm calling it, this week is where Serkan proposed. Because Serkan Bolat would neeeeever propose in a "parking lot" .. am I the only one seeing that it's not even a parking lot, it's a road. Like if it is a parking lot where are the other cars then lol?! Putting aside that he's proposing outside their literal wedding venue, their entire story started in a parking lot. He told her he loved her for the first time on the side of a road. I'm not understanding.

You make great points! Their love story did start in a parking lot AND he was trying to pull off both a surprise proposal and a surprise wedding in one day’s notice. Since we’ve already seen a proposal on a plane, a proposal at a piano bar and a proposal at their place of work, I don’t really have the energy to join the discontented masses on twitter and nitpick the location of this proposal. He could have proposed in front of a landfill and I would have been delighted.

Anonymous asked: I'm sorry if you don't find it as funny, but people's reaction to this new fragman is so exaggerated like they're about to witness Indecent Proposal dizi-edition that I literally couldn't help but find it hilarious. Like no where is it ever implied that Deniz is offering Serkan SEX, but when Eda says "just do what you have to" somehow that's the first thing everyone thought of?! Not to mention we know this is Deniz's last ep.. the dramatic reactions really have me dying lmao.

OMG! I know. So this is a show that doesn’t show sex, Serkan didn’t sleep with the woman he thought was his girlfriend during amnesia, Serkan and Eda were both celibate for 5 years, but suddenly they’re gonna have newly-married Serkan go to the edge width Deniz?!?!?! Those people on twitter lost their damn minds.

On Saturday, I was on vacation and had just popped in to see if the new fragman was released, I was happy to nope right out of there when I saw the insanely melodramatic overreaction to the fragman.

It’s obvious that since the biggest issue between Eda and Serkan is Eda’s fear that Serkan will always prioritize work over her, as he did on their first wedding day, this story is to show that Serkan will 100% choose Eda over work and Art Life. Also I’m sure the episode will have the same tone as the rest of the season, which is light and comedic.

Anonymous asked: sometimes I go back to episode 28 and still can't believe they got that bathtub + shower scene in there with the rtuk guidelines. I've watched a couple more romcoms since starting SCK and have never seen anything close to that. I know they got fined afterwards but they were really like "screw it, we're going it for anyway" 😂

It’s interesting that the production company and network went for it there. But as you say they did get fined, so they didn’t get away with anything.

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #edser #sckask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #sck 2x47 #asklizac

12 notes · View notes

mka1098 · 3 years

Text

In The Bright Moonlight (You Are My Sun) Day 2

Hear this story being read aloud to you at https://www.youtube.com/c/MKa1098/videos

Day Two - Masks

Nowadays, Chat Noir avoided going out post-transformation if it wasn’t for an attack. Especially in the first year of gaining the Miraculous, he took any chance to transform and get out of the house. He’d swing out of his room as Chat Noir and play in the parks at almost all times of the day. It was great fun! He’d entertain the young kids in the city or just sit on the park bench at 2am, staring at the sky and stars. Just being out in his suit was comforting; it was an escape from everything in his life. But as time went on, he got busier and his life as Adrien Agreste got a bit better. He got friends and he got to go out. There seemed to be less of a reason to escape his everyday life: thus the excurses became far and few till they rarely happened.

Today though, is an expectation. It feels like everything is pointing towards running away from his life. For the first time in a long time -- he wants to run far, far away. Chat sighs as he dangles his feet off the building; it’s a far drop but he won’t fall. The bright almost blue-white moon is high in the sky but he feels like he’s millions of meters under; today has just been an awful day. It’s too late to go out and play with the young children as a means to distract himself. Even on the rooftop, he’s alone with his crushing thoughts. It’s quite awful. At the very least, getting out of the house means feeling less choked and suffocated. That helped a little but not much. He stares out at the vast skyline of Paris. Why did everything look so big and make him feel so small? Perhaps this was a bad idea. He's wallowing and he knows it. Chat blows out a deep breath again. Maybe he should just go home: sitting here isn’t helping his conflicting emotions.

“Chat?” A voice calls behind him. He jumps up in shock and comes face to face with Ladybug. She’s looking at him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? What are you doing out here and so late on that not?” She asks him. Chat smiles wryly at her as a greeting.

“Hey, my lady.” He says. She raises a brow at him. “How’d you find me?” Chat asks. Ladybug rolls her eyes with a small smile.

‘I saw you out my window. You haven’t done this in a long time. You used to go out in the middle of the day and the Ladyblog would be full of pictures of you and kids dancing in the park or getting ice cream.” She explains. Ah, that makes sense. “You haven’t gone out in a while and when I saw you: I followed.” She says. Her expression is a worried frown and Chat feels bad for putting it there. “How are you feeling? What’s wrong?”

“I’m-” What is he supposed to say? He can’t lie to her! Not only would that feel awful but this is Ladybug! “-I’m actually not sure how I feel.” He admits. Her big blue eyes are inspecting him and it feels like she is looking right through him like glass.

“Why is that?” She asks softly. Chat looks away and sighs.

“Just...stuff in my civilian life.” He admits. She opens her mouth in a silent O shape but doesn’t push. He knows why; when it comes to their real lives, she’s hesitant to talk about it. He understands why though it doesn’t stop him from wishing they could endlessly talk about their days. “I just...well I kinda felt the need to be Chat Noir.” He continues.

“Are you...different in your civilian life?” Ladybug asks tentatively. She’s reading waves she’s uncomfortable in and he knows it. Though, he appreciates her trying to do so, just for him.

Chat huffs a laugh. “I guess you could say that.” He jokes. His head drops down and he sighs for the millionth time just tonight. “I’m more...reserved in my daily life.” He admits. Ladybug gives him a bug-eyed incredulous look: reserved...you? He reads her features and can’t help but laugh. It used to even surprise himself how different he was in his alter ego. Admittedly, ‘Adrien Agreste’ felt more like the alter ego than Chat Noir ever did. “I know, it seems impossible.” He laughs. “But I really am! I only have a handful of friends but they are great.” He smiles, thinking of his classmates. “Normally, I’m in the back of the classroom just hanging out with them. I don’t say much; I’m a lot shyer than you’d expect.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Ladybug says with a smile. She laughs and jabs him in the side of the torso. “You being shy feels like it would be the end of the world. Like it’d be out of balance.”

He dramatically gasps at her. “Please...I’d never be the cause for the apocalypse.” He jokes. For a second, she freezes and he looks at her with a curious look before she shakes out of it.

“Sure…” She says with an awkward laugh. “Anyways, why are you telling me you’re shy.” She snarks him.

Chat laughs. “Well, because I’m shy at school and not when I’m...being Chat Noir.” He explains. “I’m just...I’m so different at school and under the mask. I know that for sure. But I’m being the real me when I’m in the suit. The ‘real life’ version is the masked one.” He tells her. “Everyone I know expects me to be a certain way: act a certain way.” He looks down to the sidewalk that is so far beneath them. “So I acted a bit more like me...someone-” He winces. “-someone that means a lot to be thought I was being fake and told me to stop putting on an act. In reality, I was putting on an act already -- that was me being the real me.” He sighs.

“I see.” Ladybugs says gently. “They thought that you couldn’t be any different than they already knew?”

“Yeah…” He confirms quietly. “Yeah. I wanted to be myself with them; I thought they’d have fun with me. But they didn’t accept it. And I just...I don’t know; it just hurt a lot. And then it escalated and we’re not together anymore.”

It stings. It really stings. Adrien’s heard from other people how break-ups hurt but he didn’t think it would feel like this: the aching feeling inside of him that isn’t physical pain but still reminds him that it’s there, the nagging voice and feeling in the back of his mind that repeated it’s over. He and Kagami haven't even been for that long -- only 4 months. But god, it hurt in a way he didn’t realize it would. He’d known rejection; god, he knew it for so long with Ladybug. But what hurts so much about Kagami is that she doesn’t want to know the real him: not the one who does photoshoots all day, not the perfect son, not the quiet new kid in school, not the fencing champion -- she didn’t want to know him when he was free to be himself. She didn’t want to know Chat Noir and brushed it off because she’d never seen him act like that before. He liked her, Kagami is a great person but she doesn’t want to know who he really is. Honestly, he thought she did and thought she’d understand the facade he’d always put on considering the fact that she’d been put in a similar position with her mother.

“I’m sorry they don’t want to get to know the real you.” Ladybug says softly. “You are a great person and great partner. If they don’t want to know all the secret sides of you they’ve never seen before -- it’s their loss.” She told him honestly. “You’re a complicated person with many layers; it’s not on you if they don’t understand that. They must have a preconceived notion of who you are. But you’re not just the person they think you are: you’re also the person you didn’t know you were.” Her voice is soft and Chat feels so much better just listening to her.

“Thanks.” He says, falling into her for a hug. He feels her smile on his neck and everything feels a little better.

“Of course.” She says with a little laugh. “And hey, feel free to be yourself with me. To be all sides of yourself: shy, silly, cocky, annoying and sweet. I’m happy with all of it.” She tells him honestly. “In fact, I’d love to see them.”

Chat Noir smiles widely and he feels his heart mend itself. “Thank you.” He tells her genuinely. Even with the masks on both of their faces -- he feels totally bare to Ladybug.-

Huge thank you to @shaniartist for allow me usage of their art and to @ladynoirjuly for the prompts !

Art credits: Shaniartist on Tumblr, shani_artist on IG

https://youtube.com/channel/UCqDgJF4q5oUKYvAt4qxCViADay

10 notes · View notes

melancholic-pigeon · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday #15

Since Jason's birthday is tomorrow and all, I'm doing something longer as a treat. A triptych, if you will!

Content warnings for child abuse and neglect, alcoholism and food insecurity.

Thalia wakes up, like she usually does, to Jason curled against her with his fingers in his mouth. She can't easily put him in his crib by herself, but her mattress is on the floor and there's nowhere for him to fall, so she can ensure that she's there to hold him whenever he wakes up crying. Her shirt's a little damp, but this time it's just because he's drooling in his sleep. Last night, thankfully, was free from disruptions.

For him, at least.

He's a year old today, and she hasn't seen their mother since two nights ago, slumped on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka on the ground next to her. The door to her room is closed. Whether she's in there sleeping it off or out somewhere getting drunker, Thalia has no idea.

Bitterly, she doesn't care. It's not like their mom cares about them, either.

Jason yawns, his hair sticking up like a cockatoo's feathers. The first eye contact of the morning always leaves him giggling and reaching for her, and the feeling of his small, warm body flopping onto her brings her focus back to where it should be.

"Happy birthday, shrimp."

"Happy," he repeats, nosing at her stomach.

It's up to her, like usual, so she gets him dressed and ready and gives him the last of the cereal to occupy himself while she digs through her closet to find the old coffee can she stashed there.

Every time she thinks she can get away with it, she lifts a bill from their mother's wallet and puts it in the can. Every nickel she finds on the street, every dime she pulls from the couch cushions; it all adds up, a little at a time.

After carefully saving as much as she could for the past few weeks, she's squirreled away enough. She takes out a fistful and stuffs it in her pocket, then re-buries the can under a pile of her laundry.

Today's special, and she'll cover the loss somehow— by sneaking some extra groceries under her coat again, if she has to.

Jason's finished with his breakfast by the time she emerges, sitting patiently and playing with the plastic dish she'd given it to him on. Her sweet baby brother, looking up at her with a smile so sunny you'd think they were living like kings.

Her chest feels tight and her throat's in no better condition. After a deep breath, she reaches down to grab his hands.

"Do you know what birthdays mean?"

He takes a second to think about it as she pulls him to his feet, then shakes his head.

"Birthdays, Jason," she says, grinning— it's harder to dwell when he's holding onto her hand— "mean birthday cake."

The gas station a block away at least has the miniature kind wrapped in cellophane. He won't know the difference, since he hasn't even been introduced to the concept of cake yet, but she'll still have to make it up to him with a real one someday.

—

By the time Jason turns two, Thalia has shoplifting down to an art form.

People are usually too busy fawning over how precious her brother is to pay her much attention, and having Luke along makes it almost easy. Jason adores him, and he's happy to draw focus away from her by translating the toddler babble and proclaiming that they're his favorite babysitting clients, which conveniently explains the lack of adult supervision.

Thanks to him, she's managed to get Jason something a lot better than cake.

She saw it in the window of a toy shop and immediately knew it was perfect, but it cost more than she'd scrounged in the past six months. She'd been resigned to the idea of stealing a brownie instead, and then last night, Luke showed up at her doorstep with it tucked under his arm and his face split into a wicked grin.

She's not sure she wants to know how he managed to smuggle it out without getting caught, but the way Jason lights up when he lays eyes on it, happier than she's ever seen him, is enough to make her ignore the uneasy feeling.

"Puppy!"

She can't help but mirror it back to him, her heart swelling with emotion as he flings his arms around the stuffed animal's neck. It's almost as big as he is.

"That's right. It's a wolf puppy. She's named after a mama wolf called Lupa."

The real Lupa is the matriarch of a pack living at a conservancy in San Diego county. Her likeness is an embodiment of the fiercely protective love Jason should have gotten from his own mother, and which has fallen to Thalia and her limited capabilities instead.

Jason rolls over, still holding tight to his new doll, and lays his head in her lap. If she's coming up short, he certainly hasn't noticed.

"My Lupa?"

He's gently petting the wolf's fur, in a movement that's strikingly similar to how Thalia's petting his hair. She blinks a few times to chase away the burning in her eyes.

"Your Lupa."

She can't give him the childhood that he deserves. It's a struggle to make sure even his most basic needs are met, and some days it feels like the whole world is united against them, but then he hugs her leg or curls up against her shoulder or tells her in that sweet voice love you, Taya—

And everything settles in her chest, refining itself into a white-hot determination.

She's all he has, and the one thing she can make sure he'll never want for is someone who loves him enough to fight for him.

She understands how the real Lupa must feel about her cubs. She knows, with more certainty than she's ever known anything, that if anyone so much as thinks about hurting her little brother— hurting her baby— she'll tear them to shreds with her teeth before they have time to run.

—

Everything is perfect. Thalia's made sure of it.

The party doesn't start for another hour, so she has to keep Jason occupied until then. He thinks she has lunch reservations and they're meeting at her place for coffee first— the second part is true; she has a pot of Kona ready to go as soon as he arrives.

While she's preparing his decoy surprise, the rest of his friends are in Manhattan, helping Percy and Sally get his bash underway. She finds herself quivering with excitement as she puts the last few touches in place.

The doorbell rings and she squeaks, shoving the main item behind a bookshelf before racing to answer the door.

"Happy birthday, shrimp." She stands up on her tiptoes and hugs him around the neck. "I have something for you."

Jason beams, pink, and squeezes her back.

"I told you last year that you don't have to get me anything. Your company is a gift in and of itself."

"Ha ha," she counters dryly, knowing he can hear her getting a little emotional at the sincerity on his face. "Very funny. Like I'm not going to try to make up for the ten of them that I missed."

She takes hold of his arm and pulls him into the apartment, past the kitchen to the hall that leads to her bedroom. She opens the door beside it, the one that used to be her study.

Jason's eyes go wide.

The desk is still there, but the chair is new, much larger than the one she used. The bookcase is the same, too, but she's put her video games in a box in her bedroom and filled the shelves with fresh sketchbooks and paints and pencils instead. The bed is new too, as well as the nightstand and the dresser.

Sally stripped and varnished all of the wood, and built a set of floating shelves that are currently storing a series of framed photos from Annabeth's camera reel. Piper decided on the paint colors— sky blue with a deep purple accent on the wall that slants to the ceiling. Leo took care of borrowing Jason's favorite sketches to make the framed prints above his bed, by pretending he was doing a photography project with them.

(He'd burst into laughter when she gave him Jason's baby drawings to frame too, and she'd almost punched him in the mouth— but then she'd noticed his voice was a little tight when he told her the crayon scribbles looked just like her.)

"Wow," Jason breathes, staring around the room as though he doesn't know where to land his focus. "This— is all of this for me?"

"Anytime you need an escape, you've got one. Think of it as your safe house. And there's one more thing."

Reluctantly, she steps away and retrieves what she hid earlier.

Jason's mouth drops.

"Lupa," he whispers, raising his hand. He stops himself halfway through reaching over, like he doesn't know if he should. "How did you find another one? I thought they were a limited run."

Thalia takes his hand, wrapping his fingers around the new doll's front leg.

"I traded twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies for her with a collector in Montana."

"Do I want to know how you got twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies?"

"It's not as sordid as you're thinking, I just spent a lot of time on Ebay."

Jason laughs, shaky, and sits down on his new mattress. He's probably not even conscious of the way he's running his thumb over Lupa's paw, exactly the way he did the first time.

He said that donating the original to charity was his idea, but Thalia has a suspicion he was pushed into it with a healthy dose of shaming and manipulation, and the look on his face— shocked, bright-eyed, a little scared like he thinks she'll disappear if he blinks— pretty much confirms it.

Thalia sits beside him and wraps an arm around his back. He slides down along the mattress until he's lying with his head in her lap.

"My Lupa," he says quietly, and she knows he remembers doing it before.

"Your Lupa," she chokes back. "For real, this time. Nobody's going to take her away from you, ever again."

It's different now, because Lupa is about the size of a two year old child, and Jason very much no longer is. She fits in the crook of his elbow, and he couldn't wrap his arms and legs around her if he tried.

Thalia tries not to think about all the nights between then and now that he's needed her, and didn't have her.

He smiles, wiser than his fifteen years.

(He's fifteen years old. God. She missed so much— thirteen months isn't long enough to even really begin to catch up.)

"I know they won't," he tells her. "You won't let them."

She's never going to get those years back. The only thing she can do is make sure she appreciates what she has now.

"I believe you would."

"I'll bite anyone who tries," she whispers back, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He bursts into laughter, reaching up to ruffle her hair like she used to do to him.

@perseusjackson-jasongrace @msdrpreist I still feel self-conscious about pinging people tell me if you'd prefer I didn't difjvhg

#thundersibs are go #wip wednesday #let jason grace be cuddly dammit #q #Jason Grace Birthday Spam #i wrote this #stellarverse

15 notes · View notes