#in some way it was like he was untouchable; therefore when he did finally die it was surreal in some way

[no6secretsanta]

A Soulmates Christmas

From: @fairysdarkestnight

To: @thane-emblem

“What?!”

The coffee shop around them buzzed with pre-Christmas energy. There was no reason to think that anyone was listening in - not even the barista was paying attention to anything besides the book his nose was in - but there was a part of Shion that just felt like everyone was now focused on this decidedly not safe for public conversation.

Safu took a sip of her herbal tea as she simply looked at Shion, even though the other couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. His own coffee sat untouched in front of him, though he kept his gloved hands wrapped around the mug. “I know your hearing is functional so I doubt that I need to repeat myself. And although your background is in ecology, I doubt you lack the most basic understanding of anatomy. So therefore I must conclude that you did in fact hear me, and are asking me to elaborate rather than repeat myself.” 

Somehow he still couldn’t quite meet her eyes even as he could hear the lightest undercurrent of humor in her words. But the roaring in his ears blocked out her actual words and she slowly trailed off into an uncomfortable silence. 

They finished their drinks without saying much, occasionally making light conversation about Safu’s upcoming study abroad program. Their time didn’t feel like it usually did, and Shion didn’t want things to feel this awkward right before she left, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to say the words she so desperately wanted to hear.

And so when they said goodbye, he gave her a tight hug and promised he would see her off at the station in a couple days. I love you Safu. Just not in the way you need me to.

Eventually they parted ways and Shion went home to help at the bakery. His mom mentioned that they’d received a large rush order for the theater by someone named Nezumi and that they’d need to get started on it before it was picked up the following morning.

And so the two of them stayed up well into the night, until they were both so exhausted that they fell asleep after putting in one of the final batches of cookies and didn’t notice when they started to burn.

Shion didn’t know what he'd done wrong to deserve the actual hell that he was experiencing. When he was woken up by Safu’s text asking to meet up at their usual cafe, he’d been nervous, but happy that maybe they’d be able to move past the awkwardness from the day before. And yet, for some reason completely beyond his understanding, Safu refused to let up on her request.

Instead of responding or letting the conversation die, Shion merely sighed and pushed back his chair. It seemed like Safu was going to continue to push, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it without hurting her. So if they were going to have that conversation, he was at least going to do it with something a little stronger than a cappuccino. 

It also didn’t help that he couldn’t remember actually making it back to his bed last night, or that he’d developed a cough. Hopefully his mom had been able to finish up the catering order and that it was picked up with no issues that morning. 

“Please tell me you sell Irish Coffee. Or espresso martinis. I’d even take a spiked hot chocolate at this point.”

The barista raised an eyebrow and let out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down his spine. “What, is that friend of yours still after you? I thought your brilliant response yesterday of ‘Oh no, not my sperm. Anything but that!’ would’ve been enough to send any woman running. And yet here you are again.”

Shion groaned and ran a tired hand through his brown hair at the other man’s teasing. “I was hoping that we’d be able to just… ignore it? I don’t know I’m not good at this kind of thing. Once she knows what she wants, there’s no one who can stand against her. She won’t let them.”

The other man simply shook his head, a derisive smirk on his lips. “She sounds like a real winner. A match made in heaven Your Majesty. With your airheadedness and her stubbornness, you’ll take the world by storm.” The barista, whose name tag only had a picture of a rat on it, shook his head and moved to start preparing a drink. “It’s not on the menu, and it’s not like we have alcohol just lying around. But I sometimes need a little extra ‘holiday cheer.’” And with that he pulled out a flask from his apron and poured some dark liquid (whiskey, maybe?) into the mug. And kept pouring.

Shion apparently looked as frazzled as he felt.

A smirk tugged at the barista’s lips as he handed the steaming mug of salvation to Shion. “Now go and confess how uninterested you are in having sex with her.”

15 minutes later and Shion was swearing that there was no way that the whiskey should’ve been strong enough to make him hallucinate. But there really wasn’t any other explanation for the fact that Safu was repeating the same conversation as the day before. Not a continuation like he’d thought when they met at the coffee shop. No, a full repetition of a topic he really didn’t want to discuss.

“I know we didn’t really talk about this yesterday, but I’m sorry. I haven’t seen you as more than a friend and I’m not ready to have sex with you.”

Safu’s eyes widened and hurt flashed across her face. But confusion settled and she took a sip of her tea - herbal, same as always - before trying to meet his eyes. “Shion. We… we didn’t talk about this yesterday. We didn’t even see each other yesterday. We were going to meet for dinner but you worked late since Yamase called in.”

The hot chocolate burned as it slid down his throat but he couldn’t tell if it was from the temperature or the whiskey. “Safu, that was Friday. We met here for coffee yesterday and we were having this exact conversation.”

A calculating look entered her eyes as she leaned forward, almost as if she was examining him. Actually scratch that, that is exactly what she was doing. “Shion, what day do you think it is?”

“What day do I think it is? I know it’s Sunday.”

Safu shook her head slowly. “No Shion, it’s Saturday. Check your phone if you don’t believe me. Have you been having other symptoms like this? Memory falsification is rare but not impossible. But it's still odd that you would have known what I wanted to talk about.”

He lifted the hot chocolate (should he even really call it that? It was more alcohol than chocolate) to his lips as he took out his phone, only slightly surprised that it read Saturday December 24th. “I don’t know Safu. But I know - or at least I think I know - that we were here together yesterday talking about this exact same thing. And then I went home and helped my mom with the bakery. Some of her regulars came in, and a catering order was called in for the theater. Apparently the guy who put in the order had a weird name - Nezumi. I can’t make something like that up. And so we stayed up late to prepare the order - he must have been really desperate for my mom to agree on such short notice.” 

There was a choked coughing sound from the coffee bar but Shion didn’t turn to look as he was too focused on trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe he just had a really vivid dream? An extreme case of deja vu? 

Shion looked down at his gloved hands and sighed. Maybe it was nothing, but there was a part of him that felt like it was something more. Something that almost felt like a pull. But to where he couldn’t figure out.

The two friends sat there for a while, and Safu kept talking, mostly about her studies and how she was hoping that she’d find something that could help Shion, but he was mostly tuning her out at that point, choosing to stare out the window and the flurries of snow. 

As they said their goodbyes and Shion watched Safu get into the taxi meant to take her home, he heard a crack from above. And then felt a searing pain that wrapped itself around his body before losing consciousness.

When Shion woke up the next morning, he was expecting to be in a hospital room. Or at the very least in severe pain. But no, he was back at home, feeling completely fine. Well-rested even. But when he picked up his phone, he barely had time to see that he’d gotten a text from Safu to meet at the cafe. When he grabbed it, his phone sparked and its screen went black, with a small wisp of smoke winding its way through the air. 

But it wasn’t until he passed a mirror that he realized the true extent of what happened. Instead of the perfectly average brown hair and eyes he was born with, he now sported snow white hair and eyes red as blood. Not to mention the pink scar across his cheek that wound its way under his clothes. He was too afraid to see exactly how far that scar went though.

He took a few minutes to hunt for a beanie he knew he had somewhere, and he raided his mother’s makeup. It took a while for him to figure out exactly the best method to hide what looked like a scar, but it was passable enough by the time he left. But as he didn’t exactly have any colored contacts just lying around, he’d had to keep his head down as he called out to his mom that he was leaving.

He didn’t want to stand Safu up, even if he didn’t exactly feel like going to the cafe again. But that barista had also remembered the first day. So if he was lucky, maybe that man would have some answers.

If Nezumi had to go through this god-forsaken Saturday again was going to hurt someone. Probably that airheaded customer if he had anything to say about it. Sundays were his day off and that brat was (probably) the only one standing between him and a day of sleeping in.

The only bright side to having to repeat the day again was that write-up he’d gotten for not coming into work on what he thought was a Sunday just magically disappeared. Almost like it never happened. But he’d (almost) take a write up over having to work at that stupid shop for the 8th time in a row. Especially when he wasn’t even technically getting paid for it.

But when he checked his phone and saw that it was in fact Saturday December 24th for the third time, Nezumi begrudgingly pulled on a pair of black jeans and a matching long sleeve shirt. It was one of the only shops he could still work at - he’d been fired for fighting with customers at all the others, and he was still getting his foot in the door at the theater here. So he really needed this job and couldn’t afford another write up. 

Not that he thought he deserved to be fired over customers’ crossing the boundaries of what’s considered “acceptable” behavior, but he was a replaceable minimum wage employee and a brush of the hand to see if he was their soulmate really shouldn't evoke such a strong reaction from him. And it really didn’t - it was the pushy ones who would grab at him because there was clearly a mistake and there’s no way this random albeit attractive barista isn’t their soulmate.

Maybe he shouldn’t be working a customer facing job. But his face makes up for his patchwork experience so he’d deal with it until he could pay rent from the theater’s paycheck.

By the time he made it to No.6 (seriously, what kind of name was that? Where were the other five locations?) Nezumi was hungry and irritated and kind of hungover despite the fact that he hadn’t had anything to drink since the launch party on Friday. Which was really unfair and just something else to blame that particular customer for.

Part of him was hoping that he was wrong, that the man who’d come in with a friend who propositioned him in public wasn’t his soulmate. But that man clearly remembered the previous day, even if he didn’t bear the marks Nezumi had come to associate with those Fate was especially cruel to. And there had been that incident the prior night…

He’d only met a handful of people whose time had noticeably stopped when meeting their soulmate, and only a handful of those bore the white hair and scars. And that man hadn’t had either of those when he saw him. So maybe it was a coincidence. 

But regardless of whether that man was his soulmate or not, he still had to go into work.

Someone was gonna die. Maybe even him. He really didn’t want to go into work.  

“What do you know about soulmates?”

Shion was surprised that the words coming out of the barista’s mouth - whose name he still didn’t know, because a rat drawing didn’t actually constitute a name - weren’t something like ‘What can I get you’ or ‘If you talk to me while I’m reading I’ll stab you.’ And given how angry he looked when asking the question… well Shion felt like he might get stabbed.

“Not much. Only that there’s no scientific basis for it, as we only have anecdotal evidence that supports the theory that time seems to stop when you touch them the first time. And since there’s no way of knowing when you touch someone the first time that they’ll be your soulmate, it’s nearly impossible to set up a controlled experiment.” 

The barista nodded, but the frown deepened and his brow furrowed. “I have people come in every day demanding to touch me to see if their time stops for a moment. And I have regulars who swear they felt it when they touched their partner’s skin the first time. And then people like you who don’t believe in soulmates at all.”

Shion cocked his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t actually not believe in soulmates. And even if I did, after the last couple of days I’ve been having, I think I’d be more inclined to believe in them. I think I’ll believe in a lot more after today.”

“Oh?”

“I… think I’ve been repeating this day. And to be honest, I think you have too. And if I’m wrong, I hope I get to repeat it again so you don’t remember this conversation.”

The barista’s lips drew up and he turned to start on a hot chocolate. Unspiked this time. “No, you’re right. I’ve seen that friend proposition you twice now. I was wondering if there would be a third time and part of me was hoping there would be. It’s the highlight of my day.”

Shion chuckled and handed over his card to pay for the drink. “I’m so glad that my misery brings you joy. I would hate for you to be bored while working. But I don’t think Safu will be here today. I fried my phone when I picked it up this morning, so I never confirmed that we could meet. I came here just in case, but mostly I wanted to talk to you.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed. There’s just something about hot chocolate during Christmastime that just soothes the soul. “So. soulmates. Are they connected to this?”

The barista hesitated for a moment but then nodded his head once. “I think it could be. But first answer one of my questions - what are you hiding under that beanie?”

Shion’s face flushed as he fidgeted with the edge of the hat. “Nothing? I was cold?”

He clearly didn’t buy it.

“Alright fine. So there may have been an…accident last night? I don’t remember for sure but I think I got electrocuted. And when I woke up I…didn’t look the same.”

The barista nodded. “There’s a group of people living on the outskirts of town. They’re an odd group, but one of the men there had gone through something similar. He’d died shortly after meeting his soulmate but hadn’t yet touched her. And he kept repeating the day until he did. Death has a funny way of messing with the soulmate bond. And if I’m right, I’d bet those changes have to do with those red eyes, and your hair is most assuredly white under that beanie of yours. And you have to have some kind of scar somewhere I’m sure”

If Shion had any surprise left in him, the fact that this man could so accurately guess the changes that he’d freaked out about that morning would’ve taken the last of it. He was talking as if it was the most normal thing. And so Shion didn’t say anything, but nodded his head all the same.

The barista came around the counter to stand in front of Shion, who put his hot chocolate on the counter. “If I’m right, then our time will correct itself and we’ll wake up on Christmas Day like nothing ever happened. But I could be wrong, and then you’d have to see who else you met today has memories of you.” He held out his hand with the palm facing up. This man whose name he didn’t even know was putting the choice in his hands. Both figuratively and literally. And that terrified him. But it was also a little exciting. 

Shion started pulling off his gloves. After all, that was part of the reason they were in that mess. If Shion hadn’t worn gloves, then even the slightest brush of their hands would’ve snapped the soulmate bond into space. But no. He just had to be cold enough to take off his gloves.

As their hands met, Shion’s eyes slid closed without his approval. And together they experienced what felt like everything all at once. Happiness, sadness, anxiety, calmness. A fraction of a moment later and the feelings passed. 

The barista’s lips pulled into a smile. He dropped Shion’s hand to reach out, pulling Shion into a heated kiss. Once they broke apart when the sound of clapping echoed through the small cafe. They’d apparently forgotten that they had an audience. “I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

“Shion.”

“Nezumi.”

“Oh my god you’re the reason I stayed up far too late that first time!”

“I was sure that my soulmate wouldn’t exist, that they’d be on the total opposite ends of the world and we’d never have the chance to meet them. Which, by the way, you and I will need to talk about the details - the world might have set us up, but I want to make sure we keep a level head. I’d like to try to make this work.”

Nezumi dropped Shion’s hands and shoved them into his pockets. “Yeah, talking would be good. But first we need to figure out how to stop you from dying. As powerful as this phenomenon is, I don’t really feel the need to watch your head be completely separated from its body again.”

“AGAIN?!”

#submission #no. 6 #no. 6 secret santa #nezushi #nezumi #shion #fairysdarkestnight #thane-emblem

[antlerqueer]

Okay so on the whole 'if you survive you live' thing, I've actually been thinking about that being connected to the locket. Like maybe they're giving it to whoever's about to be hunted because of the 'now your untouchable' thing in a 'if the forest wants them to survive than they'll survive' kind of way? I saw people say that maybe the locket goes to whoever is going to be next, and maybe it's just the way I read it, but it implied that the person gets it like ahead of time, like before the ritual comes up, which again just feels like it doesn't fit? Because I can honestly not imagine a single one of those girls finding out that after months of struggle, a necklace is what's going to decide their fate, and being okay with it, unless it takes a super depressed angle where one of the girls just like, embraces it.

But I also wonder where it is today? Was it left in the woods as like a final goodbye? Did someone bring it home? Did Lottie bring it back and start using it with the cult and/or currently has it and will have to use it with her cult/the others as like a final ritual? If they sacrificed wilderness baby then did they maybe leave it with him?

Is javi maybe alive in modern day and just like, dipped on everybody after they got rescued (this one doesn't seem too likely to me), did he maybe stay in the forest if he is alive? Did him and the baby possibly stay behind?

Is the dripping supposed to foreshadow maris death? Just the fact that a death will happen soon? Does it work like during the seance when Lottie heard the dirt tell her to spill some blood? Is there a chance that maybe mari is the one that either kills the next person (and like the dripping suddenly stops like the second after she does) or suggests that the next person to die (or even just christen if they find her body) should get eaten, maybe she becomes the person to kind of like officially start the rituals or even just being the one that gives them their biggest push in that direction?

Also the vision of how the plane almost crashed, is this like the dirt gods saying they saved them so now they owe them back for the mercy, is it a show of the power they have like theyre powerfull enough to stop the plane crashing that way, or maybe a show in the sense that the way the plane crashed was the natural way and the dirt gods had the power to have made the crash even worse if they had chosen to intervene? Is it a sign that maybe the dirt gods chose to save them for a specific purpose and not just an act of mercy?

Anyway, a lot of these were a lot less likely than some of the other ones but honestly, atp I'm just shooting at everything and the first thing that lands is what I'm gonna call the target😆

Thanks for your patience on me answering - long messages are harder for me to reply to on mobile and I wanna give it my full attention!

In my opinion, if it is part of a ritual sacrifice, it's given to whomever has to live through the night right before they run. They play like hide and seek rules, give them to 100 to get a head start, then the chase begins.

The question about where it is today is really good - honestly, would Shauna return it to Jackie until it's time for it to come back? Maybe? But I don't see Shauna wearing it constantly after it's used for the sacrifice stuff.

I don't know what's up with Mari and the dripping, tbh. I think we may not know until the end of the season what's up with that, based on it just being teased lightly for the past two episodes. That's one thing I don't have any ideas on, because I keep thinking of the promo where Coach Scott is like smacking his head to stop hearing something? So maybe he ends up hearing it, too? Maybe more people start hearing it? I don't know.

I think since the vision was during Nat's OD it isn't a message from the wilderness as much as it is from within Natalie; therefore, if the darkness is within them, then the darkness within Natalie brought forth that message. She may think the darkness saved them from their untimely fate, but I don't think the wilderness necessarily saved their lives. Because why would the wilderness save their lives and then ask for more blood, yknow? Saving them just to kill them? So it seems more like a reflection from Natalie's subconscious - she'd rather have died in that crash than do what they needed to do to survive, she'd rather have died than let that darkness into her, and now she has to live with these consequences. The darkness inside her, inside them all, makes her wish she never got out - and let's be real, did they really get out when it's inside them?

#answered #Anonymous #yellowjackets #yellowjackets theories #yellowjackets theory

[s1ater]

promised to someone, part one. theodore nott x reader

summary 🔮: in which reader and theodore nott are promised to a marriage at birth that neither were aware of

warning/s ⛓: swearing

slater’s note 🌬: forgot to write here.

promised at birth.

you had never thought of marriage like the normal teenage girl. you didn’t look forward to it, you practically dreaded the thought of spending the rest of your life with one person.

but you were still promised at birth to a boy you had never met till now.

“they tell me you’re a disciple of the dark lord.”

“aren’t we all?”

“not like you,” you said it so fast to the point that it sounded intentionally harmful and poisonous, but you didn’t know any better and were only projecting hate for your parents to the boy before you. “they say that the dark lord had made a pursuit just for you.”

he glanced down to his lap, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as your words sunk in and reminded him of the past month of his life—the worst month of his life where he had been doing exactly that—a pursuit.

“he sees something in you,” you say after he says nothing, not looking at you but now sulking.

“it’s not as glorious as it seems.”

“i wouldn’t disagree…” you look at him a little better now, realizing a little better that he’s in the same boat just as you are. he has had no control in your life just as you. his parents have picked and chose for him, just like yours. “you’re scared, then?”

“you’re not?”

your eyes crinkle in the corner as you weren’t expecting that question, “no.”

he doesn’t believe you.

“you realize what’s happening tonight, don’t you?” you don’t answer, staring at him with a frown that clues him that you didn’t understand his question, “they’re bounding us. they’re making you take the unbreakable spell to ensure you’ll stay by my side—we’re being bound for life.”

“i don’t believe you.”

he scoffed, shaking his head, “out of all things they told you, they didn’t care to mention that?” theo thinks of his father and how he was sitting in the other room, probably getting his rocks off that his very own son was finally fulfilling his potential.

god, he thought, this will kill him.

he could barely stand his own thoughts recently, how could you? everything he thought about was in correlation to the dark lord and from what he learned about you—you had no relation to the dark lord or anything aside from your parents.

you were untouched, innocent, and therefore desirable and your parents were giving it up to theo as well as the dark lords hands—and you could do nothing.

“why would they lie to you?”

“you don’t know me. why would they..?”

the door opens, and one of your families servants pops his head through the crack of the door, “your parents would like to see you now.”

you look to theo who has tired eyes and a dead expression while he stares up to the man before looking to the window. he dreams of leaving, of going back to hogwarts but for his own will and wishes, not for some scheme. nothing was fun anymore. he hated being around his friends and he misses when times were better and the only thing he had to worry about was his grades and draco’s snarky attitude.

you looked back to the servant, nodding your head and dismissing him. his absence made you move forward on your knees, closer to him, whispering in fear that anyone but him would hear you, “what makes them so sure i won’t say a word?”

“because you’ll die if you do,” he got to his feet, “the concept of the unbreakable vow binds our souls together—everything i know, you know. everything that is in my head will now soon be in yours. you won’t think, feel, or breathe the same way again.”

**

“join hands.”

you looked up to theo, almost questioning if this was right, but he didn’t show any emotion nor did he look at you. his hand arm raised for yours and you hesitantly took it, gripping his forearm like he did yours.

“good,” theo’s father nodded, now raising his wand and touching your joined arms, a look of electricity wounding its way slowly up both your arms.

you stared at it, slightly out of breath from the reality of it all being true.

“now,” theo’s father nodded to you, “do you promise to keep theodore’s secrets as your own, to not shed light to them, even to the closest of friends or trusted family?”

you looked up and between your parents before to theo who still stared at the wire of light swooning around both your left arms, “i do.”

“do you promise to be honest with theodore when a threat is passed your way involving him and or the order?”

“i do.”

“do you promise to accept theodore and all he has done. to offer him faith, and trust, and patience?”

his eyes connect with yours fast, almost wanting to let go of your hand as if this promise was finally crossing lines above the others. your eyes lingered with his for a bit, narrowing but you still mumbled, “yes.”

“do you promise to take responsibility-“

“no,” his voice interrupted his own fathers fast, an immediate regret filing in on his face, “she is not responsible for the things i have done-“

“theodore, mind yourself,” you close your eyes at the sharp tone of the man, your chest tightening and squeezing your heart in despair. “do you promise, miss y/l/n, to take responsibility for his actions as he does—like your own?”

“i do.”

he looks up at you fast, almost looking betrayed.

“that concludes it,” the man nodded, no emotion on his face, “we’ll talk about the marriage later.”

“you have to be mindless.”

the moment your living room was cleared he didn’t hesitate to raise his voice. it made you frown, confused to his reaction.

“this is what you wanted?”

“never.”

“what could i have done? you said it yourself, i’d be dead-“

“there still would have been time to get you out of this, you weren’t trapped yet,” you were confused to his frustration and why he suddenly cared so much as he was confused to the way you had so easily accepted this. he couldn’t even begin to process how you even accepted this to be your fate with a stranger. there was time for you, you could have wiggled your way out of it.

“now we’re bound for life.”

masterlist

@aliyahsutherland @multifandom-obsessed @remuslupinluvr @ishwiya @padf00ts-l0ver @thehuntress09 @Uselesssapphickitten @sereinegemini @Anushi @afidiofobia @ss-tipton @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @i-love-scott-mccall @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @dayanaralight @sunsetcurve-95 @nyx3028 @hizziestial @missaryasstuff

#lorenzo zurzolo #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott oneshot #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #blaise imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin #deadly class #fanfic #benjamin wadsworth #deadly class imagine #fanfiction #fluff #pansy parkinson #fred weasley #george wealsey imagine #hogwarts boys #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine

[oceanid-writes]

Infraction: Chapter One

Pairing: Yandere L x Reader

Infraction- (a violation or infringement of a law or agreement.)

Summary: In which you come to possess a death note, and catch the eye of a detective with sinister motives.

Warnings: Death, overall creepiness.

Notes: Here it is! I’ve never planned or written a chapter for a longer series before, so here goes nothing. This is a pilot chapter, and if it does super poorly I will not be continuing it. However, if it does do well, expect more chapters in the future!

Prologue

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

There is no redemption for criminals. 

No forgiveness for those with corrupted hearts, the criminals who terrorize the innocent. 

That you know all too well. 

Still, you find it in your weakened body to collapse into the table, chained hands clasped together in prayer.

“God, if you’re up there, please, save me.” You mumble into your hands. There’s no response, and you’re met with only waves of guilt crashing into your thoughts, accompanied by an oddly familiar clenching in your heart. 

You dug a grave so deep that no one can help you now. You accepted the sweet seeds of power, and became sick on it. It’s too late.

There is no God for you anymore. There can’t be. No one can exist to you anymore except the man with messy black hair, and large dark circles under his even darker eyes. He sits, no, crouches on the seat directly in front of you, hands rested on the table in front of you. There’s an odd glint in his eyes, a weird twist to the edge of his mouth.

“I find it quite fascinating that you’ve turned religious,” He says, savoring every expression you make. 

He’s enjoying this. He wants to see you break. 

L’s next words only confirm your suspicions.

“I’m particularly interested to see how you’ll react to the legal repercussions of what you did.”

He must be loving the half-angry, half-shocked expression that flashes across your face.

“You are, after all, a criminal,” He continues. “And that places you under the jurisdiction of, technically speaking, myself and the law.”

No, you know it’s true now. There is no god for you anymore, because the being you once thought to be an all-powerful blessing stands behind you, laughing in a high pitched tone, excited to watch you break.

Chapter One: The Shinigami

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

It began with a gift.

The air outside your bedroom window was cold and angry that day, and if you were to open the latch it would surely rip you into the breeze. Orange and red trees thrashed against the howls of the sky, violently slapping any surfaces they could touch. 

Spare leaves rustled against neatly trimmed grass far outside, while you sat on the cushioned seat of the window, book in hand. 

Your house was empty that day. Your siblings weren’t trampling down the stairs, you can’t hear the banging of pans and closing of cabinets from the kitchen. Everything inside was silent.

It was peaceful, in a way.

But things like that don’t last.

You heard a loud thump from outside your window. Curiously, you looked outside. 

That noise.

It wasn’t like a bird had bounced off your window.

For some reason, it felt sickening.

Ignoring the odd sensations in your chest, you peaked through the glass of your window. That was when you first glimpsed it.

An oddly bound book, made out of what looked to be thick black pieces of leather. 

And there it was, seated right on the edge of your window. Amongst the wind, it laid unmoved, unwavering. Waiting to be picked up.

You opened the window, just a crack, only to reach out and grab the book.

It felt warm in your hands, yet in an odd way. Like the warmth of skin.

‘Death Note’ the cover read, and you wondered what kind of book it was.

You opened the odd thing, and there, splayed out on the pages, were rules.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

Die? It’s supposed to kill people?

“This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

“If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.”

“If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a Heart attack.”

“After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.”

“The Death note will not affect those under 780 days old.”

“A death note will be rendered useless if the victim's name is misspelled four times.”

“If a death note is lost or stolen the owner will lose ownership unless it is retrieved within 490 days.”

It was a joke. It had to be. A sick one, but so eerily creative you couldn’t brush away the knot in your stomach. 

Flipping the page, you noticed more rules.

Your stomach began to knot even more.

“The Shinigami's voice and form will go completely unnoticed by others.”

Shinigami?

A bile began to rise in your throat even thinking about it. What did it mean by shinigami?

Your room was already darkening with every movement of the sky, so much that the back half had been sliced in half with a shadow consumed the half untouched by light. 

When your eyes finally adjusted, and you looked to the dark, there it was.

It grinned toothily, and made itself known with a voice like an old record player.

“Hello,” It said.

“You’re such an interesting human. I’m Ryuk.”

#yandere death note #death note #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #reader #y/n #light yagami #l x reader #yandere l #l lawliet #ryuk #yandere x reader #dark fic

[agnes-writes]

A Character Analysis on Seong Gi-Hun (Squid Game)

made at 2 AM running on 1 hour of sleep so I hope it makes sense

A lot of people were baffled by the ending of Squid Game, where Gi-hun actively chose to not get on the plane for his daughter and try to stop the salesman trying to recruit a player for the game.

I think it's actually quite fitting for his character.

Now, I'm not saying that he's not a bad dad for doing this, I'm just saying that all his actions make sense, especially if you analyse it.

Still, I'm going to use the bad father narrative and the common comments that come with it to form a clear picture for his main character trait:

Firstly, the fact that people say his daughter is his main motivation to play the games. Now, at first, you could definitely argue that this is true. He's first approached by a salesman (Gong Yoo, which, holy shit, he's so fucking hot, by the way) right after his daughter's disastrous birthday celebration. He plays, and makes his way home. At home, he finds out from his mother that his daughter will be moving to the US and he can only get her back if he can provide for her. Seeing it as harmless and a way to make quick money, he calls the number.

However, when the first game ends, he votes not to continue, and is sent back home. Here, we find out that his mother is severely diabetic. This leads to an argument where he vows to get the money for her treatment one way or another. Subsequently, he tries to beg both his friends and even his ex-wife for a loan, and almost gets the money from her ex-wife's current husband, who told him to stay away from his family. He's seen walking home in the rain and sees the business card right after that.

I think this episode cements the fact that his main motivation, is not, in fact, his daughter—she's only a small part of it; his main motivation is his desperate need for money for his mother's treatment, and that little jab of the stepfather to him just adds insult to injury, and therefore, just a bonus perk of winning the game. In fact, this is further proven in episode 8, when Saebyeok asks Gi-hun what he'll do with the money if he gets out, and he sees he'll use it for his mother's treatment, and then set-up a proper store for her, because it's actually her dream. Only then, so he says, would he try to be a good father to his daughter. His daughter was not on the top of his priority list for the prize money.

Next, the argument that he knew from the very start that he's playing for blood money, so why doesn't he just use it to provide for his kid?

I don't think that argument's very fair. I genuinely think that he did not, in fact, know what he signed up for, and that's because the game mods had phrased their rules in a very particular way.

The game mods had told them that if they survive all six games, they get to win the money. That is very open to different interpretations but what I think Gi-hun thought is that there isn't one winner—anyone who survives 'til the end will get a portion of that money. So my theory on his thought process is that he only signed up to risk ONLY his personal health and safety, not thinking he'd have to kill anybody else. In fact, in that one scene in Episode 4, when a few players don't get enough food and have a scuffle leading to the death of one player, he is the first one who demanded something be done about it, saying that they're not there to kill each other like animals, before it's revealed that foul play is, in fact, condoned and even rewarded by the game mods.

But now Gi-hun's stuck there and he has to see it through. But he doesn't have to be happy about it.

I think one of the scenes that further cements this is in the Tug of War game—in the moment, he doesn't want to die, but then they show alternating perspectives of his team and the opposing team, and there's a myriad of expressions on his face; one of them, possibly fear and guilt as he sees the faces of the people on the other team struggling to pull back. Then, in the elevator, we have a shot of him staring at the rope burns in his hands with a clearly conflicted and horrified look on his face—which I interpreted as the moment it had sunk in that he'd have to kill people to survive.

Next is the reasoning on why he left the prize money untouched, but gave 2/3 of it Sangwoo's mother and Saebyeok's brother, but not his daughter.

Now, we've established that he probably sees this money as blood money; Gi-hun probably feels incredibly guilty or blames himself for killing his friends and other people, or at least having some kind of hand in them. He's already promised to take care of Saebyeok's brother and Sangwoo's mother, so I'm not particularly surprised. The thing is, I think he gives the money to Saebyeok's brother and Sangwoo's mother and doesn't feel bad about where it came from is because he knows that's the reason why they played the games in the first place. It was their blood that was spilled, so it would have only been fitting for them to get money.

But why not his daughter? Again, this goes back to the guilt argument. Gi-hun thinks this is blood money; and knowing how he'd gotten it, knowing what he had to do to get it (and not being able to fulfill the main motivation on why he joined, treating his mother, who died before he could come back), it would weigh on someone. It would also make sense that he wouldn't want to give his daughter that money and try to explain it, not wanting to relive or come up with a lie for what he had to go through. In his eyes, that money is tainted, and he doesn't want his daughter anywhere near what he experienced in that arena.

Lastly, why he didn't get on the plane. See, this ties in to what I think is his main character trait; he sees a salesman trying to find players for the game, indicating that it is, in fact, still on-going, despite Oh Il-Nam's death, and interrupts them.

The reasoning behind this is that he knows his daughter is already well-provided for: even in the first few episodes, we see that she has a nice house and clothes, attentive parents and is clearly doing okay with her stepfather getting a steady job in the US. In his mind, she'll be just fine.

But he was in these people's shoes before—desperately trying to make ends meet, finding away to survive, only to be taken advantage of and made to sign their own death warrant for entertainment purposes. These people have no idea what's to come for them.

In Gi-hun's head, it's his daughter's life, who is already set and comfortable with her new family, versus the lives of possibly hundreds of people who had no idea what they're getting into, many of whom may not be as lucky as he is.

That would eat at his conscience, or so I think it would. Knowing that the games are still continuing and doing nothing to stop it with the little knowledge he has of them... That screws with your head, especially with his morals intact. So he doesn't get on the plane, and chooses to try and stop the games.

And that is the running vein of his entire character:

We have his mother, who only has him to help her, as his main motivation, and we see him help those who need help as the team builds—particularly Oh Il-Nam, or player 001, whom he perceived as someone who needs to be helped at his old age (but he isn't, honestly, fuck that plot twist), there's Saebyeok's brother and Sangwoo's mother who also lost their only providers in those games, and finally, to cement the on-going theme, there're the hundreds of people, just trying to make ends meet, being swindled into playing these death games for the entertainment of rich assholes.

Seong Gi-hun doesn't take care of everyone except his daughter.

He takes care of everyone who he thinks needs it.

And I think that's a wonderful core trait for a person to have.

#squid game #player 456 #seong gi hun

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader IV

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter IV

Word Count: 6900+

[Chapter III] [Chapter V]

Summary:  [Y/N] “Bell” [L/N] was content with dying. Shot by the person whom they admired and left to die, the world was now left in the hands of the team they once thought as family. However, it seems that fate had other plans in mind…

Content Warning: mature content, gore, vulgar language, blood, injuries

Notes: Things are getting juicy! A lot happens in this one since I merged two parts into one chapter, I just didn’t want to series to run on for too long. I’m glad you’re all enjoying it though! Hopefully there isn’t too many mistakes since I don’t look over what I write sometimes.

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

July, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Germany

After your meeting with Mason, it took another half week or so for everything to get back into order.

You had to go through a psychological evaluation, answering a tirade of questions about your personal mental health. At first you thought about lying just to fuck around, but decided against. It would have just added more problems to your already growing list, and you certainly didn't want to get pushed aside. They wouldn't show you the results and passed it off. Soon enough, you were free to go. 

The CIA basically had you on a leash. Someone had to keep an eye on you wherever you went, and the perfect way they went about it was to put you back under Adler's wing. You had nowhere else to go. 

Then again, it was time to refresh and flex your skills. Unfortunately, they didn't give you back your belongings. The pistol and vest you had was now gone. A bit of yourself felt a bit empty without it, but at least they took it upon themselves to throw away the sentimental baggage that you held onto for so long.

Adler had yet to make an appearance since the base. He wasn't even there on the plane ride to Germany, leaving you to travel with Lazar and Mason, whom both snored loudly. You didn't have much to bring with you other than the clothes on your back and a few care packages Mason had forced you to carry, saying something along the lines of Woods craving "a sad excuse for candy", which turned out to be a pack of Hershey's. 

As the ETA to the safehouse got closer, you couldn't help but dread the moment you had to walk through the metal shutters. What were you supposed to do? Act normal like nothing ever happened, and carry on with the day? That felt like the most obvious answer, and yet the thought of just having to work alongside him again made you both irritated and anxious.

The three of you arrived in West Berlin early in the morning, approximately at four a.m.. You could see the landing strip become dimly lit with the ground lights, as well as the control tower poking out in the distance. The airport was rather quiet and not busy as you had anticipated. A nice chill met your exposed skin as you walked out of the aircraft, and you felt Lazar placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Welcome back, Bell.”

Orange streaks poked through the sky by the time you arrived. The outside of the safehouse looked no different since the last time you laid eyes on it. 

It was still anchored in its spot, not a leaf out of place. However, the inside felt so foreign, as there were things now occupying the spaces that were once empty. A couple of more metal tables were placed around the main area, and there were now a couple of towers made from file boxes. It felt a bit more cramped because of it, and you almost knocked some over on your way out. At the same time, though, more cozy at least. 

First thing you did was get a haircut. More specifically, Sims took it upon himself to give you one once he arrived. He wasn't a professional or anything but he does a decent job, surprisingly. Your head felt significantly lighter.

Going to drop off your bags, your room was left untouched by time. It was lightly furnished, your bed was shoved into the corner with fresh sheets pulled over it. A wooden table was pushed against the wall near the door, drawers empty. On top of it, there was a Swiss watch. It seemed fairly new, but there were a few nicks and scratches on the glass cover that gave its age away. The leather strap had light creases, and it stretched out as you secured it around your wrist. Someone already took it upon themselves to adjust the time.

That was when you noticed a small rectangular package that was sitting next to it.

It was wrapped in brown paper, and pulling back the tape, it unfolded and revealed a bunch of old newspapers that served as wrapping paper. Perplexed, you ripped them off, and found a weird device. Wrapped around it was some kind of wiring. Sifting through the papers for some sort of explanation, you search for a note of some kind but to no avail. You never seen something like it before, and asked around the safehouse (except him) what it was. They told you it was recently produced, and that it was basically a portable cassette player. No one seemed to know who gave it to you, or if they knew, they wouldn't reveal it to you. Whoever it was, you were thankful for. 

Having music blasted into your ears couldn't be more reassuring. The voices were drowned out, and you were able to just listen to the noise of musical instruments and heart-moving vocals. You found it easier to focus in this state. 

There weren't a lot of selections on the tape, and they were also from different genres. You listened to all of them on loop multiple times, even when falling asleep. Seeing how Sims was the supply man around here, you would probably have to ask him about it later. If he was generous enough, you'll see. 

Though, in return, you couldn't hear the talk going around the safehouse. If anyone needed your attention, they would need to tap you on the shoulder, or wave a hand in your view. You developed the ability to roughly read lips so you didn't need to take off your earphones as much, but if anything happened outside your peripherals, you didn't notice.

As for Adler, right when you set eyes on each other, it was like you both, begrudgingly, made a silent pact to avoid each other as much as possible. If one of you happened to be nearby, either you or him would make a detour. And if it just so happened that he needed to talk to you, he would send someone else in his stead to deliver papers or to just advise on what you needed to do next. Sims refused to be the messenger after the second time, and you even saw him talking to Adler in the back corner telling him to suck it up.

“How old are you again? Because this is getting ridiculous. You’re going to have to get used to working with them again, or I will formally write both of you up for therapy,” you heard him say.

Three days after your arrival, a briefing was finally held at twelve o' clock sharp, 

You took a seat on one of the metal stools near the radio station, rotating the knob around and listening to the music stations. Most of them were static, as there wasn't a definitive signal in these parts. Unable to come to a decision, you flipped it off.

Hudson comes around, giving you a small nod when he noticed you had already joined up in front of the board. Everyone else gathered, pulling out stools or sitting on top of the table. You had to nudge Woods to the side just so you could get a view of the evidence that was being put up.

"Finally got ourselves a mission,” Hudson starts. “Our sources informed us about more intel on Soviet activity regarding a catastrophic weapon, and it has Perseus written all over it. Detonating the nukes failed, so this is probably Plan B. As for what, when and where, we don't know yet. With the intel we’re going to obtain, we can find out. The bastard’s been lying low for the longest time, so it’s about time.” 

Hudson points directly at you with the marker in his hand.

"Bell, you're in on this one."

You perked up immediately as Hudson mentioned your name, taking out your earphones. It almost felt unbelievable. After months without having anything to do, you finally had the opportunity for some action, and the first thing was being deployed on a mission. It felt like a welcome back gift from Hudson in a way. Or maybe it was his way of apologizing. With that man, you could never tell. 

"You'll be providing distance support with Woods as Adler and Mason go in to snag our prize."

You nod, fixing your posture. Truth be told, you weren't exactly paying attention, since you expected just to stay in West Berlin. But now things were different. 

“As for where, you’ll be going back to East Berlin. The Iron Curtain is still strong, and security is tighter than ever since last time. The two groups will enter through different ways, more details on that later. You’ll both head to this area—” Hudson circles a place on the map, just between East Berlin and the border of Poland. 

“You’re going in light. You'll be dressed as civilians, and the CIA informant I mentioned will meet you here, get the guns you need. From there, it’s all or nothing. Try not to cause mayhem.” He tosses the marker onto the desk. “Questions?”

"Yeah, I have one. Any reason as to why you need Bell on this one?"

All eyes turned to the speaker, which was none other than Adler. You gritted your teeth, annoyance already beginning to make its rounds. Of course he would pull something like this.

"Is there a reason as to why we shouldn't?" Hudson replies coolly. "Bell already proved themselves back at Solovetsky. That's enough for me."

"Yeah, what the idea, Adler?" Woods challenged, hopping off the table he sat on. He strided over to Adler, confronting him face to face. "Something wrong with Bell?"

"Bell hasn't exactly had the healthiest of minds as of lately,” Adler states coldly, getting up from his seat to meet Woods eye to eye. “One fatal mistake and the mission's compromised."

"It's not like Bell was given a choice on that matter, considering what you've all done," Mason joins in with a blatant distaste. "Unless… there's something else you’re hiding."

Adler shot a glance towards your direction, and you sent him a death stare in return. He contemplated for a moment, before backing down against Woods. 

You couldn't tell what was going on inside that mind inside of his and you hated it. You couldn’t even catch a breath whenever he was around, and his mere presence or thought of him agitated you. Despite pledging to yourself not to let him get an advantage over you, he never failed to piss you off in some form.  

"Bell's going on the mission, Adler, whether you like it or not. Work as a team. They didn't go through a psych evaluation for fun," Hudson affirms. "You all leave the first week of August."

Once the meeting was dismissed, you put your earphones back on, turning the music back to its max volume. You grabbed a small roll of bandages from the back storage, wrapping them around your hands as. The punching bag seemed like a great idea at the moment for blowing off steam, and you headed over before you could bash a wall in. 

Testing the weight of it, you propel it away from you, stopping it when it returns. Getting used to it, you gave it a final push.

When it rounded towards you, you sent a clean jab to its side and watched it recoil upon impact. 

You continued this cycle, increasing your hits each time as you relinquished your anger. What the hell was his problem?

There was a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump. You resisted the urge to instinctively draw back a fist, instead holding it at your side.

Turning around, you found Woods waiting patiently with a stern, but intrigued, expression.

"What is wrong with you?" you growl.

"You're going to go deaf with that shit blasting in your ears. I could hear it a mile away," he advised.

"Is that what you came here to tell me?" You return back to the bag as Woods just took a seat on top of the table nearby.

"You gotta put more 'oomph' into it, Bell. Put the hips to work."

"If I wanted tips, I would ask Sims." 

Regardless, you adjusted accordingly and delivered a series of jabs and hooks to the bag in front of you. Although better, there was still room for improvement. But, you couldn't concentrate now with Woods silently judging you with crossed arms, but you obeyed every suggestion he gave. Put your weight more on the tips of your toes, keep moving, etcetera. Sweat was already beginning to run down your forehead, your shirt sticking to your skin and the threads of the bandages fraying.

Heaving, you stop assaulting the bag when you start to feel your chest constrict. Something white flashes just outside your peripherals, and you quickly catch the towel Woods tossed. 

"Why don't you take a break and talk with me for a bit?" 

Sighing exasperatedly, you pull out your left earbud and you unwrap the bandages. He was unusually persistent today, but you knew he was too stubborn to be ignored. "Okay, let's hear it."

"Well, to start off, you looked kinda pissed earlier."

"Did I?" you questioned curtly, flexing your fingers. "Maybe I just have that kind of face."

"Don't be a stick in the mud, it wouldn't kill you to talk about it. You know me, I can keep secrets."

"Because you're the expert in quiet."

"Of course I–" He cuts himself off in realization. "Did Mason tell you that?"

"Probably."

"Goddammit," he swears under his breath. "Anyways, Bell. Let's talk."

You hummed in response. Mason did say he was a good listener. No wonder they were buddies. "Before we do, tell me what happened to Mason. He said he went through the same shit I did."

"Weird way to start off, but yeah, it’s some fucked up stuff, really." He hands you a water bottle, which chug instantly. "Mason was originally brainwashed to be a sleeper agent for the commies. They gave him the ability to read some sort of numbers. I don’t really get it myself, but Hudson and Weaver were getting desperate, and needed to find out what they were. They strapped him into a chair… gave him a harsh time. That kind of crap."

You wipe away excess water from the corner of your mouth. "Sounds like you guys go far back."

Woods chuckles. "'Far back doesn't even cover it." 

"Why do you want to talk, anyway? Before, I was the one to initiate the conversation."

"I just want to get up to date with you," he claims, although you could detect some kind of hidden intention behind his words.

You roll your eyes. "I'm serious, Woods. Did Adler put you up to this?"

"It always goes back to Adler doesn't it? You asked Mason the same thing." 

“And if I did?” 

"Just talk to the guy he’s really bothering you. Hell, I’ll turn a blind eye if you happen to sock him in the jaw again.”

You smirk at his thoughtfulness. “Inciting violence in the workplace now?”

“Don’t tell Hudson,” Woods jokes. “But, in all seriousness Bell, what's up?”

"Nothing." You eyed him for a bit. He had a raised brow and tapping a finger, just waiting for you to tell him anything. It was clear that he didn't plan on leaving you alone, so you took a seat on the floor. "You should learn how to mind your own business."

"Come on.”

"No."

“I’m not going to shut up until you do.”

"Fine." You lower your voice just enough so Woods could hear. It took a bit to force the words out, but knowing the type of guy Woods was, you felt a bit more confident. "Truth be told, I… don't think Adler's exactly happy to have me back."

"How so?"

"You're kidding, right?" You scoff. "You saw what happened earlier. Bossman didn't even want me on the mission."

"A dick move on his part."

"No shit." You gave a heavy sigh. "I-I don't know. It's what I expected, but it still hurts. Like, I worked with the guy, and he shoots me in the end… Maybe a small part of me expected him to be a bit apologetic."

"When you've been doing this kind of work for years, you'll experience some stuff. By all means I'm not defending him, but seeing a body you got rid of come back to life isn't exactly easy to come to terms with."

You roll your eyes. "Wow, I feel so much better."

“Hear me out, Bell,” he starts, and you prepared yourself mentally for a long talk. “When you were MIA, there was a part of me that wished you were alive. Even being told that you had supposedly ran back to Red, it didn't feel like you would do that, you know? But we had no other choice but to accept it as reality. 

"Hudson dismissed the team shortly after that. We went back home, left the safehouse behind for a good year and a half, we thought our work was done. Then we got a call, saying that there's been suspicious activity relating to Perseus going amuck, and then fast forward to today, we’re back where we started. The place felt a bit empty without you, kid."

"You missed me?"

"Fuck yeah we did! Having someone a bit younger on the team really livens up the mood don't you think? Another newbie to bully a bit. So think of this as making up for lost time."

"That's nice to hear, I guess."

Woods scratches the back of his head. Talking to you was harder than he thought, especially since you were so adamant on hating Adler. It wasn't his job to maintain your relationships in the workplace, sure, but you having this mindset would hurt yourself and everyone else in the long run. Plus, he hated seeing you like this.

"I'm sure Adler's just trying to wrap his head around this,” he comes to say. “Just give him time. He was ordered to kill one of his own, after all."

"On the contrary, isn't it me that should be 'given time'?” you challenged. “I'm the one that took the bullet, not him. It's his fault for being a lousy shot, and me being here is the consequences of his own actions."

Why should you give Adler the benefit of the doubt? Clearly he didn't feel any remorse for what he did. While you have yet to speak a word to him, it felt like he personally had it out for you. Adler should have to deal with you, not the other way around. And the stunt from earlier further proved your point.

"Just think about it, Bell. We all have our own emotional baggage. I'm not saying that yours isn't important, but everyone has their own shit to deal with. What I'm saying is to just let things play out. You never know."

"Because you definitely have the experience of being presumed dead by your best friends," you utter sarcastically under your breath. 

Admittedly, hearing everyone's stories so far about how they felt during your absence was heartwarming. You thought it would be awkward trying to settle back in, but instead they all welcomed you back with open arms despite the lies they've been told. 

Woods’s expression drops slightly, like he had just remembered an unpleasant memory. "Well…"

You perk up, raising your eyebrows, suddenly a bit interested in hearing his story.  "...You're joking."

He smiles wryly. “You know Kravchenko, right? Had a bit of an encounter with the man, and needless to say, he’s on my shitlist now. Mason and I have it in for him, that guy is dead the moment we see him.”

“What happened?” 

The veteran adjusts his sitting position, leaning back on his hands and giving out a loud sigh.

“We were caught by a few Viet Cong soldiers, forced to play Russian roulette. Scariest fucking thing I’ve done, you Russians are deranged as hell. But, we managed to make it out of there and turned the place into a living hell. Then, there was Kravncheko, beating the shit out of Mason, so I stabbed the fucker in the back. And he still wouldn't kick the bucket, and decided to pull a damn grenade. So, I took him on a trip, right out the window."

"You survived?" you say in awe. Woods really had a way of telling stories.

"I ain't dying to the likes of him! But, he came to first, and then threw me into a POW camp, before shipping me off to Da Nang. But I wasn't going to fucking die in that shithole, so here I am now."

"Hm, I guess we have something in common now,” you grin.

"Well, now that I told you some of my history…" Woods hops off the table to sit beside you. He props a knee up to rest his arm on, and it reminded you of a child who's excited for a bedtime story. "You need to share some of yours."

You gave a dry laugh, shaking your head. "...You set me up for this."

"C'mon. Sharing is caring."

"I'm not a storyteller."

"Well you are now."

0000

“Bell sure has taken a liking to the Walkman.”

Adler looked up from his station, and found Lazar standing across from him. 

Taking a peek over in your direction, you sat alongside Woods near the punching bag. You were both exchanging something he didn’t know about, and even saw Woods giving him a few glares over the shoulder. Shortly after though, the conversation turned lighthearted, both of you laughing at something.

"Mason!" you shouted. "Did I ever tell you about the time where Woods assaulted the mannequin?!"

Woods jumped up. "Bell! What the fuck?!"

"Oh shit, sorry."

The Walkman Lazar referred to was poking out of your back pocket, playing whatever cassette tape inside. A wire poked out from the end of it, before parting into two, leading to your ears.

“What about it?” Adler says flatly, before resuming his work on the mission files.

You haven’t spoken a word to him. Not one bit. Even after he questioned Hudson's choices. Whenever he did talk to you, if he even tried to, you would only nod or shake your head in response to him, and the only time you would look at him was to scowl. He noticed you would flinch slightly at the tone of his voice, and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it. Or how you would lock the door whenever you went to rest. 

Not only that, but it was clear that you were talking to everyone else but him. It had taken some time for you to warm up to the rest of the members again, but it was noticeable that you were closer to Lazar and Mason. While they weren't full blown paragraphs, you would engage in brief conversations with them frequently. You were on close terms with Woods and Mason, and Sims was decent. For Hudson, at least, whenever he dropped by, you answered with single word statements. And you hated Hudson.

So if you hated Hudson, how did you feel about him?

“You haven’t been exactly doing your best at trying to reconnect with Bell either, you know,” Lazar points out, before taking another bite from his food. 

“Are you implying that I take initiative instead?”

Lazar shrugs. “If what you call earlier 'taking initiative', you need a new approach.”

Adler had nailed it relentlessly into you that you’ve known him and Sims since Vietnam, but the truth was that you only knew each other for a few months. He couldn't exactly waltz up to you, declare an apology, and expect everything to be how it was before you found out. So, he could only hope you were faring well, or managing a way to deal with it all.

"I'll think about it," was all he said. 

"If you say so. You need ideas? Let me know." Lazar was about to walk away, before pausing and turning back. "Drinks tonight?"

"Ask Woods. He's been dying for one."

Lazar laughed before departing.

Thinking about what he had told him, Adler couldn't help but feel a little spark of relief. If one were to look closely enough, the corners of his mouth were upturned slightly in a smile. It wasn't noticeable to the naked eye, but it was there. 

He was the one who left you the Walkman after all, so to hear that you favored it dearly was a plus one in his books.

0000

Giving out a loud yawn, you slapped your cheeks trying to keep yourself awake.

It was now the first week of August, and it was just your luck that you couldn't get a good night's sleep the day prior. As exhausted as you were, you've been looking forward to getting back onto the field. Hopefully you weren't as rusty as Woods claimed.

"I'm surprised you never shot the asshole yet."

You looked up from your scope at the building across from you, where Woods sat comfortably. Adjusting your grip on the rifle, you resumed to survey the streets below you, noting the positions of bystanders and patrolling guards. 

"Shot who?"

Berlin was just as depressing as it was the last time you were there for the Volkov mission. Sneaking through the U-Bahn, meeting up with Greta Keller and her asking you of a favor; breaking into the apartment due to Lazar (graciously) volunteering you, only to be compromised thanks to Lukas Richter, whom you let free beforehand. The dark side of you would have loved to put a bullet through the backstabbing traitor, but Belikov did the job for you (unfortunately).

“Damaged goods.”

You worked with Adler on that mission.

“Oh.” You had answered your own question. “Truth be told, the thought never really crossed my mind. But, now that you mentioned it…”

You adjust your position, now looking down at an alleyway a good distance from where you were perched. You trained your crosshair to be about the height of a six foot male, pointing it directly at the corner of the wall. 

“You’re sick, Bell,” Woods’ voice echoed in your earpiece. “You know that?”

“Bastard did say that I didn’t have ‘the healthiest of minds’,” you retort, doing an awful mimicry of Adler’s voice. 

“I can hear you.”

Good.

"It's Mason. Look sharp, we're in position."

The building of interest wasn't as large as you thought it would be. Apparently it's an old apartment building with a clothing shop on the first floor. There were no occupants, most likely forced to relocate upon the start of the war. 

Zooming out, you see Mason and Adler round the corners on opposite sides of the building, wearing the uniforms of local police. Mason was on the left side, and Adler on the right. They took positions next to the door. You could hear Adler countdown, and you held your breath as they both opened their doors simultaneously, peeking inside before slithering in and shutting the door.

“First floor clear. Moving to second.”

Your vision was limited, but you kept an eye on the windows on each floor, waiting for any suspicious activity. Everything was going smoothly so far, the duo having no issues as they continued up the building. 

You saw something shift. “Heads up, movement on the fourth floor,” you utter into your earpiece. 

“Got it,” Adler confirms over comms. 

After a moment of time passed, the weather started to turn sour. It almost seemed like the weather reflected the mood of the people: the skies completely dark and rain continuously pouring. The rumbling cracks of thunder rolled in following the flashes of lightning. You winced at the first clap of thunder.

“Don’t tell me you're afraid of a little thunder, kiddo,” Woods taunts from his end. 

“I was just caught off guard.” 

“Third and fourth floor clear.”

Mason and Adler rendezvous on the fourth floor, and you could see Mason drag a body out of view as Adler closed the door. They converged in the middle of the room, but a wall blocked your view. 

“What the hell? Is this what we came here for?” Mason voiced in disappointment.

“Why, what is it?” 

You couldn’t hear the reply over the clap of thunder. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt uneasy, the operation was going by too smoothly. The guards around the area never so budged from their spot, instead chatting away with their partners, or too busy being held up on unsuspecting bypassers. You wiped away the raindrops from your scope using your finger, before taking the chance to sweep another view of the streets once again.

Another flash of white and a clap of thunder. 

"Mason, Adler? What's the hold up?" Woods asks. You both waited for a response, only to hear static. He repeated the question again with more urgency. 

Nothing again.

"Shit…" you cuss under your breath. You couldn't see anything from the window. 

Looking at your watch, the team was supposed to meet at the extraction point in twenty-five minutes. From there, you would be taken back to West Berlin. But Mason nor Adler had confirmed anything, and you were all going to fall behind schedule at this point.

Contemplating the choices, you folded the bipod for your rifle. You wouldn't have time to dismantle the attachments, so you threw the strap around your shoulders to let it hang from your back. Whipping out your sidearm, you loaded in a few bullets and adjusted the silencer at the end. 

“Woods, I’m going in,” you announce, already dashing towards the edge of the roof. “Cover me.”

“Dammit Bell, wait—”

“Don’t worry about it. I got this.”

Vaulting over the edge, you slide downwards on top of a metal shed, before landing on a balcony. You cursed silently as your equipment banged and jingled with every movement you made. Praying that the Stasi had horrible hearing, you lean over the rail, checking to see if there was anyone patrolling under you. With the coast clear, you tested the strength of a nearby pipe before climbing down on it. 

You could feel it just waiting to give out any moment, but you made it down without any trouble. Landing with a thud, the alley was dark, scarcely illuminated by the streetlights. Rain was pouring down, the sound of the droplets hitting the pavement covering your tracks. 

Rounding the corner, one soldier stood alone. They had a cigar in their mouth, and you could smell the fumes making its way your direction. The smell of nicotine and tobacco made you sick to the stomach for some reason. You waited for the next boom of thunder to occur, and when it did you snuck up behind them. 

Covering their mouth and having a good choke hold on them, you dragged them back into the depths of the alley where light couldn't reach, before snapping their neck. You put the body inside a nearby bin, and continued on your way.

"Woods, how's it looking over there?" you whisper.

"Still no sight of them. Are you sure you got this?"

"This is me we're talking about."

You stuck close to the walls, making sure to avoid any well lit areas. The clothing shop was just across the street, and you didn't have a clear path. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you looked for any other possible routes nearby. A couple of patrol cars were lined up alongside a makeshift barricade towards your right. There were two figures sitting on the hood of one of them.

"Hey, need your help on something. At your four o'clock. Two on the car. You take the one on the left."

"Got it."

"On my mark…" you began to count down, steadying your crosshairs onto their head. The rumbling of thunder started to go off as you held your breath to steady your aim. "Now!"

The thunder drowned out the sound of the silencers, and you quickly ran over to the cars as lightning flashed. 

"Good hit."

Working quick, you pulled both of their bodies off the car and shoved them under it, tucking their arms and legs in. The rain was already cleaning the blood off the car, not noticeable from a distance.

You let yourself catch a breath before moving behind the next car. Peeking over the trunk, you could see that the attentions of a couple police officers were pointing towards the general area of Woods position, and you prompted him to move to a different area. "They got eyes on you Woods, try find a better area before they start moving."

“Well, time to pack it up. You’ll be on your own for a bit, kid.”

Entering the shop, there were racks of clothing pushed up on the sides. A few shirts were strewn across the ground, and the cash register was propped open and rusty. The lights were off, the streetlights casting a dim glow inside. An open door was behind the counter, leading to a flight of stairs. 

Going up, all the doors leading to each floor were wide open, and taking a peek inside, there was no one. It was eerily quiet, to a point where your light footsteps echoed. The building appeared smaller when you viewed it from afar, but travelling up 

Pulling the door open to a crack, you peered inside and saw that a group of Stasi were gathered around something on the floor. They were speaking erratically in German, trying to figure out what to do. Leaning in a bit more, you realize that they were surrounding the Adler and Mason, who were on the floor. They weren't moving at all.

Were they dead? 

No, there was no way. They wouldn't go down without a fight. But the simple thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

Whipping out a flashbang, you ripped the door open and threw it in as hard as you can. A blinding light flashed before you. Squinting through the brightness, you took the one closest to you as hostage, letting them absorb any bullets that fly your direction. You popped one shot into each of the guards, four in total, before adding your makeshift bulletproof jacket to the pile. They fell to the ground, clutching their chests as they drew their final breath. You stepped over them, kicking their arms aside. 

“Well, I found them.”

“How do they look?”

Adler and Mason remained unmoving as you got to them. Squatting, you leaned close to check if they were still breathing.

You gave a sigh of relief. “Unconscious.”

“Well we don’t have all night, Bell. Wake ‘em up, I hear police cars approaching the area.”

“Yeah, give me a couple minutes.”

You brought your hand up to Adler’s face, about to deliver a good slap to wake him up, but you stopped midway, noticing his rather peaceful expression despite the situation.

There were strands out of place from his normally styled hair, and his sunglasses were just about to slip right off the tip of his nose. Finally, the man was quiet. But, you had to admit, the more you looked at him, you couldn't help but find him rather–

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This was the guy that tried to kill you. The one that didn’t want you on the damn mission. And yet why did you feel this way? 

Brushing aside your thoughts, you propped Adler against the wall, only to notice that there was a hole in his side. Lifting up his shirt, there was a bullet wedged inside him. It wasn’t lodged in too deep and didn’t hit any important arteries or parts. You whipped out your med kit, pulling out a large gauze pad and some tape. 

"Bell?"

Adler stirred awake on his own as you worked on him. You didn't even notice him becoming conscious until he groaned and adjusted his weight. His hand shot towards his side instinctively as you applied pressure but you slapped it away. 

"Glad to know you still care at least," he comments in amusement as you cleaned the area.

"Don’t patronize me."

A look of astonishment played on Adler’s face as you scowled at him. You just spoke to him.

As much as you wanted to argue with the guy, you slapped the gauze over his abdomen, securing it tightly with tape before bringing out your roll of bandages. It wasn't the best of treatments, so he would have to fix it up back at the safehouse.

"Are we on speaking terms again?"

"Don't make me regret my decision,” you spat. 

You couldn't stand it. The silent treatment you were giving him was already difficult to maintain with Adler always having some kind of remark or witty statement at his disposal, and your first instinct was to retort back with any insult that came to mind. 

And with that, you purposely tightened the knot of Adler's bandage, gaining a little satisfaction seeing him wince. "Ouch."

"God you never shut up, do you?"

Though, you had to admit, it felt a bit more relaxing to finally talk to him.

You moved over to Mason, giving his face a few slaps. It took a bit, but he stirred awake, his hand automatically going to touch the back of his head. "Ugh, the hell?"

"Get up, don't have much time." You pass him his rifle, pulling the lever back for him. Mason groggily got up to his feet, taking the gun out of your hands. "Woods, how's it looking out there?"

"They're making a barricade around the area. Our escape route is blocked."

"Well shit," Mason chimes in. "How long until exfil?"

Adler looks at his watch. "Five minutes. Not enough time."

"Well, we'll just have to make do, don't we?" You kick one of the downed rifles towards Adler. 

He picks it up all while maintaining a stony expression. You could tell he was resisting the urge to lecture you, but had the decency to pick his own fights. 

Adler hops right back up, even taking the time to brush himself off. "How do I look?"

"Pathetic," you remark.

"Are you two done flirting?" Mason yells from the stairwell, sticking his head through the door. 

The three of you urgently made your way down, taking a bit of a shortcut by vaulting over the railing.

"There should be a car nearby," you tell them. "Woods, meet us at the coffee shop around the corner, we'll do a drive by."

“Well you better haul ass, cause we got friends!”

Running out to the street, Adler and Mason follow your lead while keeping their weapons up. The rain showed no signs of letting up, and the police sirens were getting closer. You went to the nearest car and pulled at the door handle. "Of course it's locked," you hiss under your breath. 

You break the window using your elbow and reach in to unlock the door. Some idiot left the keys inside the car so you slid it into the ignition and revved it awake. "Get in!"

Slamming on the gas, you didn’t give them the chance to close the door as the car lurched forward. The tires screeched loudly under you, leaving marks on the pavement as you sped off. Red and blue lights flooded the darkness, and you turned the wheel sharply to avoid the building. 

“Mason, get your door open! Woods is going to be on that side!” you bark over the gunfire. You hear the rear window being pelted relentlessly, Adler and Mason ducking to avoid the bullets. He forcibly kicks the door open, but it just breaks right off and strays away as you drove down the street.

“The zone’s too hot! Woods might as well be a beehive if he tries to jump in here!” Adler exclaims while reloading. 

You dove your hands to your side, fishing out a small C4 and handing it over to him. “Try not to shoot at me this time around, will you?”

“Very funny.”

Adler uses the butt of his rifle to knock out the remaining glass from the back window. Seeing a good opportunity, he tosses the C4 out, and shoots it with perfect precision. Orange and yellow raged outward in the air, shaking the entire vehicle and causing you to swerve a bit. From the mirror, you could see a couple of police cars flip over.

The coffee shop was just a click away, and you could see Woods taking cover behind a raised flower bed made from stacked bricks. You honked the horn to let him know of your presence, and he poked his head out.

You slam on the breaks while gassing at the same time, tugging the wheel towards the left and bringing the car to a small drift. It stops in front of Woods, who dives right in while giving out a cheer.

"Nice driving, Bell!” 

And with everyone back together, you speed off into the night, leaving behind another mess once again in East Berlin. Hudson wouldn't be exactly ecstatic to hear about it, but the job was done.

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell ader x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #fanfic #oh boy just wait for the next chapter its all over for you all #abcd briefing

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Nature, Death and more...

Summary: You visit the tomb of your grandmother after she died to help the Salvatores and Elena

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x Bennet!reader

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: mentions of death, angst

Words: ~1.5k

Request: "Hey if u r taking requests , could u do a stefan salvatore x reader?❤️" by @yipee101

A/n: my entry for @hellotvshowtrash #may2021promptchallenge. At first I wanted to make this a happy fluffy thing... but then I changed my mind. Enjoy <3

Tags: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @thedumpster-fire @imaginearyparties @dizzydancingdreamer

It was too sunny.

The end of October was a few days away, therefore you expected wind, dark clouds covering the sky, pouring rain accompanied by thunder and lightning and ready to play the most destructive symphony ever created by Mother Nature!

Instead, the sun was shining, warm as the colours of the autumn painting the trees all around you. Grams had always loved the slow change from summer to fall...

A shaky breath left your lips as you stepped into the graveyard.

Walking beside the many tombstones, you'd never felt Death so close. A shiver ran down your spine when you crushed some dead leaves and branches. The familiar crunch under your soles sounded more like a threat in the stillness that hovered in the cemetery. Not even birds dared to sing, scared to break a sacred oath of silence.

When you stopped, the quiet was deafening.

You ducked down and moved a couple of leaves that had landed on a tombstone. Still untouched by time and rain, shining bronze letters spelled a name you had hoped to never read on one of those: Sheila Bennett.

"It could seem merciless and unfair, my dear, but through Death, Life can arise in all its splendor... there's beauty in it, and as a witch, you need to understand that."

Sunlight reflected on the polished metal, creating a peculiar rainbow light. A damned beauty.

Another leaf fell on the tombstone, a flash of colour on the hard grey. Nature seemed not aware that time stopped the moment your grandma had died in that crypt. It did not know how disrespectful it was to keep moving, keep living while she was seven feet below of all that wonder...

You carefully dropped the lonely leaf to the ground with all her dead sisters when a blow of wind caressed your neck. You froze: a silhouette had appeared next to you, still as everything else in the graveyard.

For a moment, you truly believed that Death had come for you; that she had heard your silent prayers and was finally ready to bring you to your grandmother.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Y/n"

Your muscles tensed even more as you heard his voice. Death would've been a much more welcome presence.

"What are you doing here, Stefan?"

There wasn't anger in your voice. Not anymore. It had left you, sooner than what you expected, leaving behind just a feeling of weariness that no sleep was ever going to cure.

"I thought you could use a friend right now"

You couldn't help but scoff. A friend... you had never been friends. Not when you looked at each other the way you did when Elena couldn't notice, not when he held you like letting you go felt just like parting from his own heart.

Not when he kissed you like your lips were air and he had been drowning all his existence...

"I shouldn't want you" he had whispered in an empty hallway, his fingers searching the shape of your mouth in the dark. They caressed your lips as they tilted upwards.

"And yet, here we are"

But that wasn't about you and him. Not there, not after what had happened. In that moment, he felt like nothing more than an unwanted acquaintance to you.

"Have you forgotten that your brother is basically the reason why my grandmother's died in the first place?"

"He's a loose cannon, Y/n. Even if I want to, I can't control him..."

"Why don't you tell her that?" you suggested, pointing with a nod to the tombstone. "I'm sure she'll understand"

He didn't answer and you were grateful for that. You didn't need another apology from him. It wasn't going to bring your Grams back anyway.

Sat on your heels, you raised your gaze to meet your grandma's photograph. You had taken it, months earlier, when magic and vampires were not yet part of your youth.

"When I must go, and one day I shall leave you, my sweetheart, I will face whatever awaits me on the other side with my arms wide open. I believe Death to be much more welcoming than many people on this Earth..."

"What was it like to die?"

The question had left your mouth the moment it came to your mind. Even if your gaze was fixed on the photograph, you felt Stefan's eyes observing you.

"Was..." you tried but stopped, the shadow of a lump stuck in your throat, "was it painful... when you first died?"

"Well... the wounds were."

He got down next to you and you noticed he kept twirling his ring on his finger.

"Even through the shock I was frozen in, I could feel my flesh burn just were the bullets got past my skin. I couldn't move without feeling like I was close to falling apart." He took a deep breath, the first since he had started talking, "However, death itself was... it just wasn't."

You finally turned towards him, frowning at his words. Seeing your confusion, Stefan took another deep breath. He was obviously struggling to find the right words, to remember, but you needed to know... now more than ever.

"When I closed my eyes... when life left my body..." he continued, fixing his gaze on his hands, "all I could see, all I could feel... was an endless nothingness"

As the echo of his last word vanished, a new silence surrounded you. Cold and hopeless.

So that was it.

After centuries of men asking the same question over and over, answering with the most disparate hypothesis, that was the truth. That was what Death had prepared for humanity: the absolute absence of everything.

You sat on the ground, falling to it with much less elegance than a dead leaf. You rubbed your temples, trying to process Stefan's words. Or at least, to accept them.

"So that's what's expecting her now? An eternity surrounded by... nothing?"

It was strange how a word you had said thousands, millions of times could now feel so wrong as it rolled out of your mouth. So filthy and cursed.

"Perhaps," he shrugged slightly, "but bare in mind that I stayed there for a few moments, just what it took the vampire blood in my veins to transform me. There could be something more that I had not time to find out. When all's said and done, I don't know much more than you do."

How could he say something like that? He had lived for years, he had seen the world break into pieces and grow back together. How could he even think your knowledge was comparable to his?

"If it could make you feel any better," Stefan continued, his voice soft, as he didn't want to offend the sanctity of the place, "even in the middle of nothing, I didn't feel empty. I felt... in peace, somehow. Finally whole again"

He reached for your hand, his fingers hesitant before taking it. You didn't move it away: despite all the recent events, you still craved his touch like a sprout craves sunlight. And he was just like that: warm, soothing, deadly when you got too close.

"You should go now"

You freed your hand, his warmth still lingering on your skin.

"Are you sure?"

"I just need some time alone, Stefan... and you should go back to Elena." You turned to him with a small smile. "She'll be wondering where you are by now"

Clouds seemed to cover his eyes when you mentioned Elena, but it was probably the change of the light. Real clouds were slowly filling the sky, their grey colour darkening every moment more.

"Don't stay too long. A storm is approaching"

He caressed your face with the back of his fingers, from your cheekbone to your chin. but before you could even lean into his touch he was gone with another blow of wind and flutter of dead foliage.

A thunder roared in the distance while the wind howled through the trees canopies, making dozens of leaves dance around you.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. The raw and musky scent of rain was already perfuming the air.

"Cherish the simple things, buttercup. A drop of rain on your skin, the warmth of a sunny day, the kindness of a stranger. There's more love in the caress of a loved one than in a house made of alabaster and gold."

You placed your trembling fingertips on the cold surface of the tombstone. It was cold and textured and screamed Death.

When the first drop of rain hit your cheek, it found it already wet with salty water. Tears had finally break loose from your control.

"I love you, grandma... and I forever will"

Your whisper was stolen by the wind.

#stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore x y/n #stefan salvatore imagine #stefan salvatore #may2021promptchallenge #the vampire diaries

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 7

Day 7 - There is a string tied around your pinky that only you can see, the end of it leads to your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Kid AU! Intrulogical

TWs: Remus being Remus [though not overly so, he’s like, 9 here], some swearing

–

Remus Castillo and Logan Smith were two very different children; former was creative and bursting with chaotic energy, while the latter preferred to be more logical, more stable. One studied hard into the night despite his young years, the other decided that a good time was filling a blender with crayons and silly putty to see what would happen. Both attended different schools, lived a good distance apart, and neither of their families knew the other existed.

What could possibly bring together such opposing forces?

If your answer wasn’t being forcibly dragged kicking and screaming from the local museum by security for tampering with the exhibits and screaming about historical theft, then congratulations; you’re most likely still sane.

How did these very different children meet, you ask? 

The story began on a Friday lunchtime - as all good stories often do - when Sanders Elementary and Faraday Academy For Gifted Children both booked their museum visits for the same time slot. Thankfully, the museum staff speculated that they could indeed handle two classes of fourth graders at once - those poor, unfortunate souls - and decided to start both classes off on either sides of the museum with a little overlap.

Logan entered the foyer with his peers, gazing around at the array of trinkets and treasures adorning the space. Though he hungered for knowledge of all kinds, his heart was set on the cosmos, reaching for a copy of the museum’s map when his hand was blocked by another. He recoiled and turned to face the other; a boy with tanned skin as opposed to his own pasty complexion, with wild green eyes that bore into Logan’s own, and a grin like a shark about to snap Logan’s hand up in it’s jaws.

“I call dibs, four eyes!”

Logan huffed, straightening his glasses, “There are plenty of maps to go around, there is no need for rudeness-”

“Why do you talk like you’ve got a stick up your ass?”, the boy asked with no hint of remorse nor shame, “Just talk like a regular kid, jeez!”

Logan was flabbergasted. No one had ever talked to him like that before. Then again, no one ever really talked to him in general. Perhaps that was why his lonely little brain could only think to stammer out, 

“Who ARE you!?”

The boy roared with laughter, “Wow, thats all you have to say!? And they call ME weird!” , he shot a hand out towards Logan’s, not removing the one touching the map, “I’m Remus! What’s your name, frankenstein?”

Logan huffed, “Logan Smith. And you know,”, he began, puffing his chest out proudly as he yanked the map away, “Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster, therefore, you’re not insulting me-”

Without hesitation, Remus leant into Logan’s space and licked the map, causing Logan to jolt back and drop it. Picking up his spoils, Remus chuckled manically, “You look smart but you’re super dumb. Frankenstein IS the monster, dumbass, that’s the whole point.”. Without waiting for Logan’s rebuttal, Remus made his way back to his class, leaving Logan to frustratedly grab another map and return to his class, unaware of the string that formed around his pinky…

The tour was everything Logan had hoped for; an informative romp through space and time, enjoying the sights of the planetarium and a walk through a tunnel lined with geodes. And yet, all Logan could think about was that stupid boy who stole HIS map. Hmph! How dare Remus call him stupid! Whatever, at least they would stop soon to have lunch in the Polar Exhibit and he wouldn’t have to think about- 

Oh god dammit.

As they entered the wide circular room, he laid eyes on the boy from before pretending to have gotten his tongue stuck to the giant fake iceberg in the centre of the room. Cheering him on was a gaggle of other children while their teacher seemed more content to just eat his own lunch and try to pretend it wasn’t his problem. Logan huffily stormed over to the nearest empty seat and popped open his Big Hero Six lunchbox, ready to moodily munch his jelly sandwiches when a painfully familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“We meet again, professor!”

Great.

“Remus.”, Logan hissed, though he tried to maintain composure, “A pleasure, I’m sure but I must be-”

“- crazy to run away from your soulmate?”, Remus finished, leaving Logan, once again, speechless.

“E-Excuse me!?”

“Check your pinkie, dingus.”

Logan checked and finally noticed the string, and to his horror, the end of it that tied itself around Remus’ pinkie.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for life! Unless I die, then you’re stuck with my corpse. Oooh! Maybe you can bring me back to life! Really earn that Frankenstein nickname-”

“This HAS to be a mistake!”, Logan squeaked, flustered and shocked by the news, “There’s no way YOU are my soulmate!”

Logan made eye contact with Remus and for a moment the boy looked hurt, but he plastered on a grin and poked Logan in the arm, “Nope! Fate thinks you’re my future husband, so suck it!”

Groaning, Logan let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine, then I suppose you should tell me about yourself, Remus.”. Logan would - for eternity and a day after - deny that the smile Remus gave him made his little heart flutter for the first time.

As the two ate, Remus went into a long tangent about his life and Logan found himself absolutely fascinated. 

Remus Castillo had a twin brother, Roman, who enjoyed Disney movies and being “an overly wordy drama queen”. They had a single father, much like Logan’s own, whose wife had apparently decided she was destined for greater things that didn’t involve unplanned twin boys (Remus’ words, not his). Logan listened as Remus told him all about his family’s culture, having moved from Aguascalientes to Florida a year ago for work related reasons; retelling fond memories of watching the parade of Calaveras along the Avenida Madero with his father and brother each year. Logan found Remus really enjoyed a mixture of colourful and morbid subjects, each tangent sending Remus on a fun winding road down memory lane or through a vague memory of some educational book.

Logan Smith had wanted nothing to do with the boy who’d licked his hand and stolen his map, but as lunch ended and both classes were being called away to their respective classes, he found he didn’t want to be separated from Remus.

Very apparently, Remus didn’t want to either. If they way he was gasping Logan’s arm and hauling him towards the class from Sanders Elementary instead of his own was any indicator. 

“Come on! You can hang with us! Roman won’t mind! And my buddy Remy’s lotsa fun too-”

“Remus Castillo, stop right there.”

Remus indignantly ignored his teacher, plowing through his sentence, “You’ll LOVE my class, they’re all weirdos like us-”

“REMUS!”, barked his teacher, already done with the nine year old terror, “You let that boy go this instant!”

Remus defiantly clung tighter to Logan’s arm, “No!”

“Remus Castillo, you’re to let go NOW.”

“But he’s my soulmate!”, Remus yelled, causing his classmates to chatter excitedly. It made Logan feel a little self conscious, but Remus didn’t seem to care, “Pleeeeease let him come with us!!”

His teacher rubbed his temples as if it could massage the exhaustion away, “That’s nice, but you are NOT going to cause more trouble, soulmate or not!”

By now, even the children and teacher from Logan’s academy were watching the commotion. It came to a head as Remus’ teacher tried to separate the two of them, earning the tiniest war cry from Remus as he stomped on his teacher’s foot and clung fully to Logan like his life depended on it.

“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HIM! I’LL STAY HERE UNTIL WE’RE A GROSS MUSHY PILE OF SKIN AND BONES IF I HAVE TO!”

With that pleasant image in his brain, Logan decided to perhaps appeal to his own teacher,

“Miss, can Remus perhaps stay with our group so we may avoid further-”

“Absolutely not,”, she turned up her nose at Remus’ display, “Our school has a reputation to uphold, I will not have it sullied by such a rude child.”

Well that backfired. Now both teachers were having to try and separate the two of them. It took two of the museum’s security personnel to finally haul Remus off of Logan, carrying the writhing child as they assured his teacher that they’d put him in the tantrum room. With the way they handled his feral yelling and attempts to grab at any nearby exhibits for something he could use to bash them with, this probably wasn’t their first Rabid Child Rodeo.

Logan watched dejectedly as they hauled his soulmate out of sight while his teacher ordered him to get in line as they continued their tour. He couldn’t focus on any of the various bewitching artifacts that the guide presented to them on their tour of the ancient world though, all he could think about was Remus. Alone. Stuck in some room. Missing out on the exhibits. Missing him.

“....Emile?”, Logan asked the boy standing to his left.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I’m about to do something very, very impulsive.”

“.... Okay?”

“And reckless.”

“...Right-”

“In the name of fate.”

“........”, Emile sighed, “What do you need me to do?”

“Either talk me out of what is likely a terrible decision that will without a doubt go on my permanent record and possibly disappoint my father. Or encourage me so that I may spend time with my soulmate for as long as possible.”

Emile shook his head, “Well, if cartoons have taught me anything, it’s that you’re gonna go for it no matter what I say so...”. He placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Make it good, Logan, I wanna remember the day the untouchable Logan Smith lost his mind.”. With a shared chuckle, Emile let him wind up for whatever he was about to do, while Logan waited for his moment. The tour guide was gesturing to an exhibit of ancient Mayan armour when Logan chose to strike, raising his hand while Emile awaited the fireworks show to come.

“Sir? I have a question.“

“Of course, what is it?”

“Did the museum ask permission to have that armour?”

The guide looked confused while Logan’s teacher looked ready to have an aneurysm.

“I… don’t understand what you mean. Anyway this-”

“I’m merely asking,”, Logan interrupted, ready to keep pushing until he would be  hauled off by security, “because I believe that if it were my culture being mercilessly appropriated and stolen from, I would be rather upset.”

“We’re allowed to have it because it’s for education-”

“But it’s still stealing. And stealing is always wrong, correct?”

“Well, it-”

“It’s a yes or no question, please answer as such-”

-

Remus hadn’t expected company in the tantrum room, but he wasn’t complaining as Logan was marched in, looking positively proud of himself in spite of the way the security guard nearly tossed him inside with obvious frustration. With a bright grin, Remus pat the beanbag next to him, positively writhing with unbridled joy, “Spill! What’d you do?!”.

Logan tried to play stoic and prideful, but the excitement cracked through in his voice, “I merely inquired as to why museums considered their historical thievery to be ethically justified until the tour guide got angry and attempted to ignore me.”. “Sick!! Then what!?”, Remus’ delighted eyes met Logan’s with a similar sparkle of mischief.

Logan chuckled as he admired their string of fate, as people called it, slowly pulling his eyes from it to meet Remus’ again, “I screamed. Loudly. For quite the duration. I must say, I’m rather proud of my own lung capacity.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in it.

“Naturally, security came to try and calm the situation.”

“And then they brought you here?”

“No, they attempted to calm me down”, Logan snickered, “But, one of them put a hand on my shoulder rather rudely. So I bit them-” “YOU BIT ‘EM!?”, if Logan could bottle the light that radiated from Remus there and then, he would have, his own smile growing while his soulmate’s grin threatened to tear through his cheeks, “Logan, mi alma, you’re insane! I love it!”

“Mi alma?”, Logan queried, his cheeks losing the great blush war as his face radiated a nice rosy crimson.

“Oh, right!”, Remus explained, “It means ‘my soul’, it’s what people call their boyfriends ‘n’ stuff back home. I figured since you’re my soulmate, it makes sense to call you that!”

For a moment, Remus faltered, “Uh…. if you don’t mind I guess? It’s whatever, I’ll stop if you hate it-”

“No, no, I rather appreciate the sentiment,” , Logan awkwardly smiled back at Remus, “Mi alma?”

The wilder of the two threw his head back in a roar laughter, “Man, your pronunciation sucks! And that’s an easy one!“, he teased as he shuffled his beanbag closer to Logan’s and continued with a wild smile, “Looks like I gotta stay with you for sure now and make sure you get it right! You’re stuck with me, Nerdy Wolverine!”

It would be hard work convincing his father to let him move schools to be with Remus, Logan knew that. Despite the fact his father adored love in all forms and regarded the bond of soulmates as sacred, Logan knew it’d logically be a hard sell to ask his father to not only pull him out of an expensive academy, but also to have him possibly move home or make a rather lengthy commute. 

But as Remus’ had met Logan’s, the latter found himself locking fingers with his wild soulmate, banishing that thought while they still had time together. Whether it would work out right away, after a couple of months, or even over the course of a few years, they’d make it work.

“Falsehood,”, Logan smirked, “I believe it’s you that’s stuck with me.”

-----------

Okay, this one’s the cutest thing hands down. I’m so proud of this one! As a tidbit, I had it in mind that their single fathers were Janus for the twins and Patton for Logan. 

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

#intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #my fics #fanfics #theyre so cute i cry #also incase its confusing #i figured that in this universe #people probably still get married and such like #to people who arent their soulmates #if they feel they want to just settle down but that they won't meet their soulmate #so thats the explaination for Janus being a single parent #as for patton #i like to thing he just adopted logan

[ilguna]

Anteric - Chapter Four (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. GORE, HEAVY BLOOD, FIGHTING, PAIN.

wc; 10.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

There’s only a few people that can get ready without complaining. And proudly, you can say that you’re one of them. With Finnick, Thyme and Allio being the other three that had practically gone untouched from yesterday’s fights. Well, actually, Finnick did go untouched, but that’s for obvious reasons.

You watch the other initiates move around the dormitory, all varying in the ways they hold themselves because of their injuries. Amos’ face is swollen, thanks to Thyme’s fists--which was split at her knuckles because of how spread out her skin had been. She didn’t find this out until after the fight, when Amos’ blood had been wiped off and she could see why her hands were stinging so badly.

Amos also has an arm wrapped around his ribs, where Thyme had kicked him. He’s been rotating ice packs since last night, so he’s got one pressed to his cheekbone right now. It looks like he might end up with a black eye by the end of the week. Too bad it won’t get any time to heal. All your injuries will just keep piling on until the physical stage of the initiation is over.

Finnick’s victim, Eytelle, does everything she can to avoid touching her jaw. Unlike Amos, it seems like she has some sort of pride about not using ice to make it feel better. Her face will occasionally twist when she opens her mouth to speak, so you’re happy to say that her smartass Candor mouth won’t be running today.

And finally, Trink is the worst out of everyone in the room. Even compared to Amos, who didn’t go down easily when he went up against Thyme, is better than her. Trink has been complaining about a headache in her temple since yesterday, and each time she brings it up, she’ll glare at you. You ignored it the first couple of times, but you went ahead and reminded her that she had a chance to give up, and she didn’t.

The only person missing from the dormitory today is Ossie, she didn’t come into the room last night before the lights were turned out. So, you’re going to take a good guess that she’s in the medical unit that they have here in Dauntless. If that’s the case, you’re nota ll that surprised, there’s no way that she should be authorized to come back into the ring if she’s seriously hurt.

However, if she doesn’t recover soon, she’ll end up being cut. Caspian won’t exempt her from the rankings, because it’s not fair if he does. To someone else, it’d be unfair because she can’t control how fast her healing process is. If she jumps right back into it, she risks injuring herself even more, which could then make a permanent problem. But, it’s perfectly fair. She couldn’t defend herself inside of the arena, therefore she needs to step up her game.

Or she’s not cut out to be in Dauntless.

It’s a ruthless faction for a reason.

The aptitude test can tell you what faction you’re made for, but when you’re face to face with other initiates that fit the requirements better, suddenly you don’t measure up. You’d like to say that at some point, Dauntless wasn’t always like this, and they didn’t cut most of the initiates like they do now. But something changed, which then prompted for Dauntless to become a harder faction to get into. 

And it makes perfect sense, at least to you. Dauntless is supposed to be the police, security, the ones who watch the wall and what may be on the outside. Dauntless is the army that would be called on if it were needed. There’s a saying that every army is as strong as their weakest link. And in Dauntless, no one is supposed to be weak. They want to eliminate that problem, so initiation continues to get harder to only allow in the persistent initiates. The ones that can handle Dauntless.

Anyway, if Ossie isn’t careful, she’ll be the first of the four to be cut in the first stage. You’re not sure how long the first stage lasts, or how many fights you have to cycle through before you’re finally over, but she’ll need a comeback. Just like everyone else who lost their first match. Otherwise, they’re just going to find themselves factions. Which, in a way, would probably be a better option than running themselves into the ground. At least then they’d have a chance at living.

For them, being factionless may always be an option. But you think that you’d rather die trying to get into Dauntless than live with the shame of being factionless because you couldn’t make it. And since Abnegation has a reputation for welcoming former members back in, you think it would be even worse. Crawling to Reed’s doorstep and begging for forgiveness.

Knowing Reed, he’d probably turn you down.

Thyme jumps into her black jeans, shifting from foot to foot to make sure that they’re up all the way. You can vaguely see Finnick in the bathroom, leaned over a sink while he brushes his teeth. You’d be getting ready with them, but you had an early start this morning. Mostly because after you woke up the first time to roll over, yesterday’s question about your family made itself known. 

And then, as the hours drew on and your mind wandered, you sank deeper into your mattress when you realized that your words can have consequences. You are not untouchable here in Dauntless, and Caspian is in a position of power. He can retaliate if he wants, sabotage your stages to make it harder for you to pass. And he’s going to feel more inclined to, now that you’ve accused him of still being attached to Abnegation. Especially since you did it right in front of Laurel.

You may be his ex-best friend’s little sister, but he never had an attachment to you. To him, you’re expendable, he’s got other initiates that he can really pour his focus into. And being one of those people is Finnick, who showed great significance yesterday. He has fighting experience, which means that he should be in some sort of advanced class. He’s already better than the rest of you.

For now, at least. We’ll see how well he keeps up during the emotional and mental stages of initiation.

Thyme sits down on her bottom bunk, beginning to tie her shoes. Finnick comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed and running a hand through his hair. On the way out of the dormitory is Amos, his shoulders are hunched in and he’s still holding the ice pack to his cheek. The more he collapses in on himself, the smaller he seems. And since he’s not very tall to begin with, the last thing he needs is to appear less threatening.

“Ready to go to the training room?” you swing your feet, watching as Finnick continues to fix his hair, standing off to the side.

“Wish we had enough time for breakfast.” Thyme mutters, she yanks her laces tight, “I also wish we didn’t have to fight first thing in the morning.”

“It’s a good way to wake up.” Finnick says.

“You just want to fight.” 

You try to kick near his head, he dodges, grabbing a hold of your ankle, “I was actually hoping I’d get to fight you.”

You stare at him, “Why?”

He lets go of your foot, giving you a shrug, “I’m just curious how you’ll hold up against me.”

You mock a smile, “Well, let’s just hope I end up with you, then.”

If you were put in the ring with Finnick, you wouldn’t come out as the winner. Not only does he have more experience, he has a height advantage, he’s unpredictable. You’ve spent several years of your life watching him fight other teenagers, and there’s only been a couple of times where you’ve been able to predict his next move. The most you’ve figured out is that he likes his fights over with as soon as they begin. Which is as dangerous as dangerous can get.

Thyme stands up, so you slip off the top bunk, landing on your feet. Thyme leads the way out of the dorm, you and Finnick elbow each other back and forth on the way out. When you pass in front of Trink, Allio and Eytelle, they momentarily fall silent. As soon as you’re through the door, they resume speaking. 

You might end up fighting one of them today, with the exception of Trink. If you’re lucky, it won’t be Eytelle, she’s got the same height advantage that Finnick does. If you’re extremely unlucky, you’ll end up with Allio, who hardly looked fazed at Ossie’s kick yesterday. And it looked like she put all her strength into it. So either she’s weak, like you originally thought she was, or Allio is a sponge.

Then again, you could always land yourself with Amos, Thyme or Finnick. Amos is shorter than you, much like Thyme. You think that you could easily take him on. As for Thyme, she might be more of a challenge, she did seem to give the fight her all when she needed it at the end. However, just like Eytelle and Finnick, you’ve got an advantage when it comes to height. 

Honestly, you really hope that you aren’t paired with Thyme or Finnick at all. It’s an unrealistic hope, because there’s not enough people to be rotated around, so you’re going to be stuck with one of them eventually. But if it really came down to it, you’d rather take on Thyme than Finnick anyday.

“Tell us your predictions.” Finnick says. It sounds like a demand, but it’s actually a question.

You’re quiet for a moment as you all go through a stretch of darkness. The first match was predictable, Caspian would want to set you guys up against people that look like you guys to see where you measure. That’s why Finnick was placed with Eytelle, based on height. Thyme with Amos based on scrawniness. And Ossie and Allio because they had to be together in order for you and Trink to be in the ring together. However, you and Trink could have very well been placed together because of body weight and the way you carry yourselves, and Allio and Ossie were leftovers.

Needless to say, you were more or less right on the prediction. All you have to do this time is go off your gut feeling again, because that’s what happened last time.

You decide to hold your answer until you get to the next light source. Then, you three stop and stand around it, “Okay, Ossie wasn’t in the room last night, so I think that she’ll be sitting out. Since it’ll be uneven, I’m pretty sure one of us won’t be fighting.” You pause, you don’t think that it’ll be you or Finnick. It could be Thyme, but she was a winner, so they’d want to push her to see what she can do. A loser would sit out instead. Maybe Amos?

“I’m thinking that they’ll pair us with opposites today. And I don’t mean strength-wise.”

Finnick nods slowly, probably trying to decide who would be his opposite. Thyme massages her knuckles, eyebrows raising slightly. You can hear the faint echo of Trink, Allio and Eytelle in the background, and they do too. So, you all start walking again.

It’s quiet for the rest of the way. Finnick pushes open the set of the doors, holding it open for you and Thyme. Laurel and Caspian stand next to the chalkboard, standing in the way of the names. Amos stands by himself, hands shoved into his pockets. Ossie is by herself, a bandage around her head, arms crossed as she stares at the ground.

The three of you stand on the other side of the ring, opposite to where the chalkboard is, where you’d been yesterday. It gives you a clear view of Caspian, who raises his eyebrows faintly. Other than that, there’s no expression on his face. No hint that he might be angry after what you said to him yesterday.

You’ve never been afraid of Caspian, but when he burns in silence, is the time where fear begins to sprout in your stomach. The times where he doesn't have to look smug, are times where he’s set up something particularly hellish. You said that he’d pair you with your opposites, but you’ve failed to remember, again, that Caspian might be angry.

Allio and Ossie were leftovers last time, an exception to the idea you presented last time. Which means that he could very well have made a second one. It would make sense, not everyone can have an opposite. And the only person who can serve a real punishment to you, would be Finnick.

Your eyes peel away from Caspian to look at Finnick, who’s playing with his nose ring again, staring into space. He wouldn’t make you go against Finnick, it’s too predictable. You look back at Caspian to see that he’s got a small smirk on his face, the same one he wore after you won the fight against Trink yesterday. And you change your mind again, because when has Caspian ever cared about his motives being out in the open?

Trink, Allio and Eytelle make it into the room just as the clock hits eight. They decide to stay near the door today, so you go ahead and move left more. It’s just an open space between you and Amos, and since hatred hasn’t been expressed between you two, you don’t think it’ll hurt to be closer to him. Especially if it means to get away from the other three.

“Good morning.” Caspian says, “I see some of you are doing better than others.”

No one says anything back, he cracks a smile. He then waves a hand toward Laurel, signaling her to move out of the way. She side-steps, and reveals the pairing. There’s only three rows, which means you were right about someone sitting out.

“It’s uneven today, only six of you will be fighting. If your name’s not on the board, congrats, you get a break today.” Caspian says.

You read over the names.

Finnick and Thyme.

You and Allio.

Amos and Eytelle.

Ossie and Trink are sitting out today.

There’s a couple of things that come to mind immediately. The first is that the winners are paired together, and the losers are too. The second is that you’re not with Finnick, it’s Thyme who gets the misfortune of having to face him. You know that he’ll get it over with quickly, but Thyme is going to want to win the fight. She’s not going to take the loss.

A cruel thought spirals, nearly passing through your lips. Thyme will be the perfect opponent to ensure he keeps his streak. You don’t see her winning against him, which means he’ll bag two wins. And depending on whether or not you beat Allio today, you might too. In the end, you might have to end up facing Finnick. 

You look over at your friends to see that they’re less than thrilled. Thyme is still staring at the chalkboard, as if it’s some mistake. And Finnick doesn’t look as excited as he did yesterday. He crosses his arms, but still reaches up to play with the nose ring with his thumb. It’s even worse because they’ll be going first today, they say nothing to each other.

And because you can’t help it, you go ahead and look at Allio, who’s already got a small grin on his face as he talks to his friends. You and him will be the second fight today. You wait for some type of fear to appear in your body, but there’s nothing. You were wrong on your theory. Allio isn’t as bad as Finnick. You have a chance at winning.

While you’re staring at Allio, you catch a glimpse of Trink, who looks relieved. So, you lean toward Finnick and Thyme, not trying to be quiet but trying to diffuse the growing tension between them. “They’re only letting her sit out because I beat her to shit.”

Eyes land on you, you pull back and stand straight again. Finnick lets out a laugh, Thyme has a smile on her face, “It’s like putting her into time out.”

You know that you will not face Trink again, there’s no reason to be afraid of her. The only people you’re worried about, are the two Candor idiots standing next to her. One of which you will face today.

“Finnick and Thyme!” Caspian calls, motioning to the ring, “Get to it.”

“Try not to kill each other.” You tell them, neither of them say anything.

Inside of the ring, they pick their spots opposite of each other. Finnick is the first to raise his hands, in perfect position. Thyme rolls her wrists once or twice before she raises hers. With them standing across from each other like this, she seems to have a chance. But when they’re standing next to each other, you have no hope for Thyme.

They shuffle in a circle, Thyme trying to find an opening. She won’t, not unless Finnick takes the first punch. And he might, if they continue to go around like this. A look to Caspian tells you that he’s getting impatient. They make a loop again, he clears his throat. Neither of them lunge at each other. 

This won’t last for much longer. This is going against Finnick’s rule of making a fight quick. But he’s probably stalling so that he doesn’t have to hit her first. For a second, you think that he might let her win, since she’s a friend. Then you remember what he said to you fifteen minutes ago, his hope that you’ll be his opponent. Which transforms into the streak thought. He will not pass up this opportunity.

Finnick gets impatient, starting to move in on her. Thyme tries to keep backing up, trying to get away from him. In your hand, you chant for her to stop moving and let him make his move. Finnick wants it quick, he’ll aim for weak spots on her head. All she has to do is dodge the punch, and give it her all as fast as possible before moving out again.

She has to be like a wave of water.

Thyme hits the edge of the ring, Caspian briefly moves forward to shove her back in, “Fight!”

Thyme stumbles over her feet, drawing her too close to Finnick. He doesn’t wait for her to recover, swinging. You think Thyme sees, because she drops to her knees, avoiding the hit. She stops long enough to draw her arm back, fist aimed toward his shins. But then she hesitates, changing her move.

You watch her full-force uppercut Finnick’s crotch.

There’s a gasp from Finnick, face twisting as his hands grab the area. You press your lips together, covering your mouth. You shouldn’t laugh. Thyme gets back onto her feet, raising her fists again, the soft expression she had, has faded now. She brings her foot up, slamming it into his back.

Finnick’s hissing through his teeth, stumbling forward and trying to straighten himself out. He’s clearly in pain, and you can’t blame him. Thyme looked like a hard hitter yesterday, and Amos is the display case. 

Finnick turns towards Thyme, cracking his neck, “See, I was going to go easy on you.” his face takes on the same scary look that he gave Eytelle, “But if you want to play dirty…”

Thyme beckons him closer without saying a word. Finnick heads closer. She’s aware of where the ring ends now, you can see her glance down every now and then to make sure she hasn’t backed out of it. But each time she looks away from Finnick, he jerks closer, until he’s right in front of her, and she doesn’t even realize it.

Her hands are protecting her face, so he aims for her stomach. This sends her stumbling back, standing on the white line. He tries to punch her again, she slips under his arm unharmed, and appears behind him. She goes to take advantage of this, but she’s too slow. Finnick spins around, and slams his foot into her ribs. 

Just like that, Thyme hits the floor, eyes wide, hands on the spot he just kicked. She sucks in a breath, looking up at Finnick, who towers over her. She stares for a moment, and then her eyes flicker to his feet, and she tries to get moving. She’s just barely on her feet, going to slip under Finnick’s arm again, when he grabs a hold of the back of her shirt, yanking her towards him.

He’s quick to grab the neck of her shirt when he can, twisting his fist and lifting slightly to keep her from sliding out of her shirt. He draws his right hand back, tilts his head to the side, and goes to punch her face. She moves out of the way by a hair, eyes continuing to widen, following his fist. He goes to try again, and manages to graze her cheek. 

Thyme winces, trying to squirm out of his grasp. And for one final time, he brings his hand back, and punches her jaw.

She hangs in the air, Finnick slowly lowers her back to her feet, and then wraps an arm around her body. He looks up at Caspian, who gives Finnick a nod before circling his name. 

Finnick won, just like you thought he would.

Finnick half-carries, half-drags Thyme’s body out of the ring. He slowly lowers her to the floor, where she lays there for a minute or two, not waking up. But then her eyes pop open, and she blinks a couple of times, squinting.

She’s alive, which means it’s your turn to fight your life.

“(Y/n) and Allio!” Caspian calls.

Finnick gives you a pat on the back, “Good luck.”

You wish you could say you don’t need it.

You and Allio come from your respective groups. With you on the far left, and him on the right. From where you stand, Caspian is still in sight, and he has a smile on his face. There’s something that you’re not aware of.

You stretch your arms and legs, cracking your knuckles, tilting your head from side to side. Allio watches you with raised fists. You bounce from foot to foot, raising your own hands. You inhale and exhale, looking over his form.

The only movement he allows is moving in the circle, like you guys were taught to do. His face is straight, his hands are where they need to be. You sweep over his body over and over to find that there’s no openings. Which means that you need to create one without getting hit. 

You made the first move yesterday, it was in your best interest to. This time, you need to let Allio come to you. You keep shuffling, but don’t move, not even when he begins to come closer. In fact, you start circling the other way, making him change his rhythm and show you what he might have been planning.

He takes much bigger steps towards you with his right leg, now. But will hesitate and back up when you pause for a moment, going toward him. Either he wants to kick you, or he wants an easy escape if you move toward him. You let him continue to come closer, prepared for a kick.

And then he launches forward.

All it took was a single blink.

There’s an explosion of pain across your nose, a sickening snap that fills the air. You inhale sharp enough to trigger a cough attack. Your hand flies to your nose, now throbbing and sending needle-like pain through the nerves. In just a couple of seconds, your palms are coated in blood, beginning to pool.

You look back up at Allio in time to see him jumping at you again. You move out of the way, flinging your handful of blood at the floor, right where his foot lands. There’s a moment of steadiness, before he slips and hits the floor hard enough for you to feel it beneath your shoes. 

You grit your teeth, drawing your foot back, lip curling, aiming for his head. You expect him to block his face with his forearms, like you were taught to. But he grabs a hold of your ankle with a tight grip and rolls over, pulling you down.

Your entire body hits the wooden floor, hands slapping hard enough for them to make a sound. Allio lets go of your foot, and goes to start crawling on top of you. If he wants to play the foot game, though, then he’s going to get it. You wind your foot back, sending your heel into his chest, knocking him back. You scoot back after that, getting to your feet.

He broke your nose, and it’s gushing blood. Your nose is crooked. You bring the bottom of your shirt up to your lower face, wiping away the fresh wave of red. Each time you breathe out, there’s a couple of droplets that fly through the air. Allio gets back to his feet, you raise your fists, gritting your teeth harder.

You didn’t expect him to be an easy fight, but you were hoping he wouldn’t be this hard.

Allio comes at you again, swinging at your face. This time, you see, so you duck. His arm flies over your head, making a clear path for his chin. Without thinking it through, you shoot up, knuckles slamming into skin and bone. Immediately, there’s a sharp pain that goes through your hand, but you’ve temporarily immobilized Allio.

His mouth is hanging open, backing away from you as he grabs the area you just punched. In the meantime, you steal a glance at your knuckles to see that they’re turning a deep shade of purple already. You try to stretch your hand, and end up crying out in pain.

You look back up at Allio to see that he’s recovered. You don’t know if you can punch him again. Not with your potentially broken knuckles. Your non-dominant hand isn’t all that strong, either. You could always try, but you’ll end up failing.

You suck in a breath through your nose, raising your fists again.

Allio comes in again, since you refuse to move. You need to get the upper hand. So far, you’re the one taking all the injuries, so he needs to receive some too. You sniff, feeling all snot and blood, and then you breathe through your mouth. It’s hard not to pay attention to your nose.

When he’s close enough, you fake right, but go left, swinging your non-dominant hand. It doesn’t feel right, and you don’t hit as hard as you mean to. The punch to Allio’s jaw just moves him backward. You didn’t get as close to his chin as you wanted to.

Allio seems to realize your dilemma, and a sadistic smile grows on his face. There’s a sudden boost in confidence in his movements, and he doesn’t hesitate to come closer anymore. He must’ve been wary of your punches, but now that you can’t hit him, he’s practically untouchable. The only way you can kick him is if you get him down. But even then, he managed to catch you last time.

You have three choices. Two of them back you into a shameful corner, the third means you go down swinging, or you win the match. No matter what happens, you will not take whatever punishment Caspian has lined up for you, in the case you decide to call mercy. And you will not just stand here and take what Allio has to deliver.

Allio swings, you back out of the way. You have to get around him somehow. Get behind him like how Thyme got behind Finnick. She was able to duck under his arm, but you’ve done that twice already. Allio has probably learned his lesson, you need a new way.

He barely comes close enough, you drop to the floor and sweep his feet. Allio loses his balance, you raise up a little, but he’s on his back, vulnerable. You jump at him, fist raised, hand wrapping around one of his wrists, pinning his arm to the ground. You hesitate actually punching him for too long, and his other hand slams into your jaw, making a red hot pain spread through your face and teeth.

Your head knocks back, eyes on the ceiling before you’re falling against the floorboards. You can feel the coolness of the wood through the fabric of your shirt. And for a moment, you think that you could lay here all day and not move. But then you see Allio coming towards you, eyes dark and threatening, and decide that you’ll lay on the floor another day.

Even though you should get up, you don’t move, trying to catch your breath, but you keep an eye on him. If he comes any closer, you think you’ll kick him in the face. Kick him like how you punched Trink. One hit that’ll get him to stop moving for good.

You lift your foot to find that he’s already holding onto it.

You twist around, rolling over and kicking his shoulder with your left foot as hard as you can. He doesn’t let go, instead pulling you in. He lets go of your ankle, and since you’re just beneath him, he raises his fist. His elbow bends, lifting it up far too high just for it to be a knockout punch, and unwinds on you.

You jerk to the left in time for him to slam his hand into the floor. 

“Idiot.” you snuff, your voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to you.

While Allio is shaking his knuckles, hissing out curses, you lazily raise back to your feet. Your mouth has an overflow of snot and blood because you refuse to breathe through your nose. You send a wad of red spit flying out of the ring, towards Caspian’s feet before raising your hands.

This fight is not over yet.

When Allio raises back to his feet, his hands aren’t raised, and he comes at you with genuine rage. This is the look that Ossie must have seen yesterday. The look of pure anger from the taunting, going all in and pulling back before it’s too late. The difference now is that you’re embarrassing him. For him, this should have been an easy fight, considering his brute strength yesterday.

Allio finally raises his fists when he gets you cornered. He swings with his left hand--no, he normally punches with his right.

Large black blots block your vision. The pain is hard and warm, pounding on the side of your head. Your hands connect with the cold floorboards once again, and you struggle to blink your eyes free of the dark restraints. For a moment, you’re terrified because the darkness is staying longer than it should. But a ray of light comes through.

You can hear Allio coming up behind you.

Get up.

Even if the stars are just now allowing you to see, you need to get up.

You struggle to make your legs solidify beneath you.

When you turn to face Allio after what feels like forever, you’re met with a solid pain in the middle of your chest, knocking you backwards, stealing your air. You barely keep on your feet this time, anticipating the ground, gasping to try and fix the empty feeling in your lungs. It hurts to breathe in this much. You press an open hand to your chest, eyes finding Allio’s face through the spots, only to see that he’s mere inches away.

One hand on your shoulder, the other one drives it’s way into your stomach. Nausea sprouts, accompanying the dizziness that hasn’t gone away since he punched you. All the air you had just gained, is gone again. A moan leaves your lips from the soreness. 

Allio wraps his hand around your throat, you can feel the ground disappearing beneath your shoes. There’s a sudden spike of terror again, and all you can picture is this exact same scenario with Ossie. Allio lifting Ossie into the air as if she was as light as a feather. Allio throwing her down to the floor. The sound of her head cracking open. Her not moving after. The blood turning her blonde hair, rich red. Laurel having to carry her out.

This will not be you.

You swing your foot as far back as possible, desperate for air. Your foot crushes into Allio’s stomach, making his face turn a sudden shade of bright red, and then he drops you.

The ground is a lot further down than you realized.

You try to catch yourself and fail, a scream leaving your throat. Your head slams against the wooden floorboards anyway, but you don’t hear your head breaking open like an egg. Only the hot, pounding feeling on the back of your head. Black spots come back to dot your vision, stealing the sight of the ceiling. Or maybe your eyes are closed.

Can you get up?

The thought alone hurts.

Everything hurts.

You can hear Allio’s tennis shoes against the wooden floorboards, shifting on his feet. He must be waiting for Caspian to call it. And if the fight is over, it means you lose.

You lose.

So, get up.

Your eyes open, stars dot the ceiling. You blink and squint to see better. No, not stars, the ceiling lights. Which form little sparkle shapes as your eyes begin to focus, adjust.

Get up.

You turn, your hot, sticky skin pressing to the floor. It sends aches and pains through your body, your muscles in your legs pulse, letting you know that they’ve had enough. It’s a good thing that they’re not in charge. You are. And this is not over with.

Get up.

Your skin slowly peels away from the polished wood, leaving a faint stinging sensation behind. It’s hardly noticeable, a needle in a haystack, considering you’ve collected an impressive worth of injuries in just one fight.

Get up.

“She’s up--” Caspian starts, once you’re on your feet, hunched over and trying to build enough confidence to stand straight. It’ll hurt too badly. And you’ve run out of time, you took too long to get up. Caspian thinks it’s over.

It’s not over until you win.

You take one step, and then another, testing the waters. Every step you take, sends a jolt through your body that always ends up at the back of your head. Your skull is not broken. You can keep moving.

This is the opening you wanted, after all.

You launch yourself right at Allio’s torso since he’s distracted, wrapping your arms around him for added effort. There’s shooting pains through your nose since it’s pressed up against his body. You pull away before he hits the ground, hard. And before he can move, you’re scrambling on top of him.

Your knuckles are not broken.

You wind your arm back, eyes locked on his nose.

They just hurt.

You drive your fist into his face. And when it doesn’t start to bleed, you punch him again. And again. “I’ll never look the same.” you snarl through your teeth, “So why should you?”

You switch hands, leaning all of your body weight into it. He’s bleeding now, there’s blood running out of his nose and down the sides of his face. His blood mixes in with yours, which coats your knuckles and fingers. If he’s going to target your weak spots, it’s only fair you give him a couple of his own.

You miss the fact that he gets his right hand back, not missing the chance for retaliation. All you can feel is your head jerk to the left hard enough for your neck to crack. You slide across the floor, skin burning along the way. You unscrew your teeth from each other, gasping.

Allio has drawn himself to his feet. Through the tunnel vision, you can see that his face is swollen. Blood is dripping off his chin. You sneer a laugh, which fizzles into coughs, your lungs not being able to support your brief moment of victory. Allio doesn’t look like he did this morning, and he won’t look like himself for a while.

He doesn’t like the fact that you can laugh at him. You can barely decipher the fact that his face twists in anger. He heads towards you, foot drawing back like he’s going to kick a ball to send it across the field. You brace your body for the impact, smile fading.

A scream draws from your throat as the kick lands. You squeeze your eyes hand enough to see vivid patterns dance across the back of your eyelids. Pain so bright and black and white that you can finally understand why Candor doesn’t believe in grey areas.

“The fight is over!” The voice is drowned, underwater and floating away.

You fade into the sea of darkness.

And think: is this how dad felt when he faded too?

--

It wasn’t until after dinner, did you leave the medical ward last night. You would have attended dinner at the actual dining hall, but the woman working in the unit gave you a plate and was there to help if you needed it. Plus, you got a little taste of Finnick’s thoughts after your loss, and you decided that you’d much rather spend the evening alone.

And you did. 

Cleo, the doctor-nurse, let you go after you showed her you could get up and move without falling. Apparently, Ossie had tried to do the exact same thing the night she hit her head. She crumpled a couple of steps in, and almost made her head injury worse. And since you had been dropped on your head too…

You’re fine, though. The injuries that you got from Allio’s fight are painful, of course, but they’re not anything totally awful. Cleo thinks that your chest and stomach will bruise, thanks to Allio’s punch. Your jaw is sore, so she wants you to eat soft foods and ice it as much as possible. As for your knuckles, they’re heavily bruised, not broken. Cleo tried to set your nose as straight as possible, but you’ll need a cosmetic procedure to get it back to the way it was. 

You had a lot of time to sit and wallow in your loss in the medical ward, but the tightness in your throat wasn’t nearly as bad as it was until you left. You wandered in the dark for a while, taking deep breaths. You ended up at the railing that blocks you from wandering into the chasm. And you stayed there until you felt better.

Even though there are no real bodies of water inside of the walls—with the exception of the swamp, but that has no water in it anymore—the sound of the rushing river below you was strangely familiar. And each time the water would crash against the jagged rocks, fresh air would be coughed up into your face. It lessened the headache.

And left you alone to think without any disruptions.

By the time you made it back to the dormitory, the announcement had already been made; there would be no training today. Capsian was just leaving the room when you got there, and he passed by you quietly at first. But he was halfway down the hallway when his words echoed off the walls, “Glad to see you’re on your feet, (Y/n).”

You didn’t say anything back.

On the first day, Laurel said that there would be a few breaks from fighting. Today is one of those days. When Finnick and Thyme had explained it to you, they didn’t say what you’d be doing exactly. Only that you all had to meet Laurel at the tracks by eight fifteen and not to be late. You have a feeling that they didn’t know what you’ll be doing today, either.

The only person that seemed to be upset last night over the break, was Finnick. Everyone else has something to complain about, not going unharmed in all the fights they’ve taken place in. You’re one of them, yesterday’s pain has settled into your bones, making itself right at home. Every move you make, you’re reminded of your loss. Which wouldn’t be that bad, but again, you have Finnick at your side. And the only thing that’s on his mind lately, is the streak.

With yesterday's loss, it means that he is the sole survivor of the streak. With his perfect gun aim, and the fact that he hasn’t lost a fight yet. You’d say something to him, if it weren’t for the fact that you have two friends total at the moment, Finnick and Thyme. Normally, you can handle Finnick being mad at you, because you had other people to talk to in Abnegation. But Thyme is more on Finnick’s side than yours, Ossie and Amos aren’t technically your friends, and your relationship with the other three is pretty much established. 

For now, you have to bite your tongue and bear it. But you wonder how long Finnick will go unchecked for. Until you finally snap and shove back. You can handle the teasing, but it’s like holding a glass of water for a long period of time. It doesn’t start off heavy, it ends up that way.

You guess that it’s partially your fault, because you’re giving him ammunition. If you want it to stop, you need to win the next two fights, and then do better than him at the last two stages of initiation. In theory, it sounds easy, but you don’t know what the second and third stages have to offer. Plus, you’re damaged goods at the moment, what are the chances you can win the fights?

As long as you try. Trying is good enough.

A shoe scuffs against the floor, sending a sharp squeak through the air.

You don’t have to lay here anymore.

You could hardly roll over last night because of your stomach. And after a couple of times, you stopped and laid on your back until your muscles finally relaxed and you couldn’t feel the pain anymore. You got a couple hours of sleep in. 

It was ruined when you jolted awake around midnight, a scream rising in your throat, your bed sheets soaked in sweat, and a very hot feeling spreading over your body. It took a while for you to finally feel normal and calmed down, and by then you were awake. The memory of the nightmare that you had just been submerged in, was at the front of your mind. 

You stopped having nightmares last year, you had finally begun to feel comfortable in your own house again. You guess you went and ruined your streak when you moved here, to a faction that would make your mother feel shame, if she were still alive.

Surprisingly, that was not the main story of the dream. Instead, you dreamt that you were back inside of the aptitude test, with all the knowledge that would come after. That every choice you would make, would conflict and result in Laurel telling you that you’re Divergent and you could be murdered because of it. But you still went through with your original answers, because you didn’t want to end up in Abnegation. You thought, for a second, that being three things was better than one.

When you came out of the test, the room was full. Men and women dressed in Dauntless black, an army sent just for you, with their guns pointed at your chest.

Standing at the front was Caspian. “Divergence is against the law.” He droned, “You are not welcome here.”

And just before they all fired, he told you that you were another stain on your family’s lineage.

The word that has stuck with you for hours is another. Not the fact that you could feel every bullet they fired pierce your body. Or feeling yourself slip away in the sinful room of mirrors. It was the fact that you were not the only anomaly in the family. The only other person that has moved away—moved on from Abnegation is Mox. Which made many people turn a brief eye to your family, watching him go.

But it doesn’t fit right. That is not the puzzle piece that needs to be there. It’s only a supplement. You know this.

Two weeks before the aptitude test, there was a unit in your science class that was about the human brain. The lesson was brief, but your teacher mentioned how dreams come from the subconscious mind, before moving onto another section. She’d only mentioned it in passing, but it has stuck with you ever since.

To you, this idea seems wrong because you don’t think of Mox as a stain. That thought is not yours to begin with. And yet, even though you’ve been awake for hours, you still haven’t found a better conclusion. 

You’re starting to think that there isn’t one.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, reaching over to the side of the bunk to help pull you into a sitting position. You grit your teeth tightly, sure that they’re going to break, but you’re determined not to make a sound. You let out a low groan anyway, which dissipates into a sigh of relief as soon as you’re sitting upright.

Leaning back on one hand, you use the other to lift the end of your shirt to see your stomach properly. Right in the middle, sits deep shades of purple and red. You press your lips together, gently running your fingers over the skin like a ghost. It’s tender, beginning the stages of healing. 

You let your shirt drop, turning towards the end of the bed, hanging your feet over the side. You remember what it took to get you up here. There’s no ladder, because that would be far too easy. Tears had sprung in the corners of your eyes, you were forced to wriggle your way up on your stomach, hands clamped tight against the metal bars.

Once you got up here last night, you weren’t allowed to get back down. Not that you really wanted to, what you really wanted to do was sleep it off. Obviously that didn’t pan out too well, either.

You can see Thyme from the top of the bunk. She’s still sleeping, tangled in her blanket, shirt collar desperate to choke her. Half her body is turned one way, the other half twisted away. Her head isn’t turned toward you.

You’re pretty sure that Finnick is still asleep beneath you, but you can’t exactly tell without accidentally falling off the bed. And if you’re going to get off by yourself, you think that you’ll do it on your own time. Speaking of which, it looks like you only have forty-five minutes to get ready.

That should be enough time, right?

The only other people awake inside of the room are Eytelle, Ossie and Amos. Eytelle disappears into the bathroom, clutching her clothes to her chest. Ossie is already dressed, pulling on her hiking shoes, yanking the laces as tight as possible. And Amos is… sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

Trink and Allio are across the room, both turned away from you. If you get off the bed, the only people that are here to witness your pain are the two people that you wouldn’t mind seeing. Apart from Finnick and Thyme, of course. You’d ask for help, but the idea of Finnick’s teasing appears in your mind, setting your destiny in stone.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, moving your ankles around in circles. Your calves are tight, they feel like you’ve had twenty leg cramps in a row. They’re going to be uncooperative today, which is the last thing that you’re going to need. Especially if you’re supposed to be jumping in and out of trains today.

The thought of missing the jump on the roof occurs to you, and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body.

You decide that you’ll try and lower yourself down, instead of just scooting off the edge and jumping. Since your calves clearly can’t handle it right now. You’re careful to lean on your wrists and not your hands, turning yourself around. You’re glad that you’re starting to develop more upper body strength, otherwise this would be impossible.

Your body begins to ache, arms shaking the further you go down. You feel Finnick’s mattress dip beneath your bare feet. Your other foot touches his blanket, and after that, you just step down. The cement is freezing cold, making your toes curl.

You spare a glance at Finnick before you get moving, and you start to glare once you realize that he’s awake. He has a cheeky grin on his face, raising his eyebrows, “I see you’re feeling great this morning.”

“I’m not.” you say back, “Maybe I should’ve stepped on your face like I originally planned to.”

Finnick lets out a laugh, getting up and off his bed. Ever since the two of you left Abnegation five days ago, he’s begun to stand at his full height. It makes him look like he belongs inside of Dauntless. There’s tall people in Abnegation, of course, but none of them are as tall as Finnick.

You have to look up at an angle to see his face. He stretches his arms above his head, shirt riding up, he yawns, and then groans. Unlike you, he doesn’t have any concern for the other people sleeping in the room. 

You gather your clothes, throwing them over your arm. Finnick has no shame and decides to change right where he is. A part of you wishes that you could do the same, but your body is more valuable than his, to an extent. You shake Thyme awake, watching her squint and blink and wake up.

“Seven-forty.” you say.

She hums and rolls over. You head toward the bathroom, which is just as an open room as the dorm. Except, there’s stalls and the showers have curtains. You step inside one of them, and try to wash yourself as fast as possible. It hurts to bend down, tears appear in the corner of your eyes and run down your face. By the time you’re done showering, there’s fifteen minutes left.

You get dressed and brush your teeth. Finnick and Thyme work together to help you tie your shoes, since you can’t bend down to do it yourself. You thank them both, and after that, you have to get to the train. There’s no way you’ll make it to breakfast, climb the Pit and make it to the train in time.

“How about I get us breakfast then?” Finnick’s got a grin, jumping at the opportunity. 

Thyme gives him a look, “We’re not covering your ass if you’re late.”

“No problem, I’ll see you there.”

He takes off, leaving just you and Thyme. The two of you head up the stairs of the Pit to the glass building above it, in silence. Your thighs begin to complain at the strain, in perfect harmony with your calves. When you pass through the exit doors, you’re able to see that it’s only Amos up here, arms wrapped around himself in a hug. He looks over slightly to see you two, and then he looks away. 

“Where’d you go yesterday?” Thyme asks.

She’s still rubbing sleep from her eyes, there’s dark bags forming. She hasn’t been getting much sleep, it looks like. But you think that goes for everyone here. No one has slept soundly since the Choosing Ceremony. It just got worse as soon as the fighting began, for reasons you discovered last night.

“Hmm?” you hum, looking at her.

“We went to visit you in the medical unit, and you weren’t there.”

“Oh.” you say, looking to where the train will be coming. Behind you, you can hear the doors of the building open again. Judging by the amount of voices, it’s Trink, Allio and Eytelle. “I needed a minute to myself, that’s all.”

An arm slams into yours from behind, knocking you into Thyme. It’s Trink, who gives you a smug side-eye when she walks past. You grit your teeth, hands balling into fists. 

“Here.” a voice says, you jump and look over to see it’s Finnick, handing you the toast he got from the dining hall. It’s still hot, he must have ran here to give it to you before it cooled. You go to thank him, but he’s distracted. His eyes are on the back of Trink’s head.

Two words burn like fire on the tip of your tongue, “Do it.” you encourage.

It’s all it takes. Finnick presses the six squares of toast into your hands before he starts over toward Trink.

“Why would you say that?” Thyme hisses in a whisper, eyebrows pushed in. She’s worried for them. Typical Amity behavior, especially since she’s not for the fighting to settle differences.

“Because Finnick doesn’t negotiate.”

You don’t include the fact that, if it weren’t for your current condition, you’d be helping him.

Finnick spins Trink around, her mouth falls open. Her two idiot Candor friends turn around too, only halfway. By then, Finnick punched Trink straight across her mouth, whipping her head to the side. She loses her balance, hand flying to touch her teeth to make sure they’re still in place. When she opens her mouth, her gums are bleeding, white teeth turned red.

Allio goes to ask her if she’s okay, and Eytelle puffs up as if she’s actually going to do something about it. The moment that Finnick matches her energy, her height, and how his hands curl into fists, she backs off. 

“Next time, I’ll break your fucking nose.” Finnick snaps, looking directly at Trink, “Or better yet, I’ll hold you down so she can.”

Finnick comes back over, face flushed a shade of red. He grabs his breakfast from your hands, and Thyme does the same. The doors open behind you, Laurel and Ossie come out. Laurel has her hair in a ponytail today, sleek and straight. She walks right past Trink, Eytelle and Allio. And stops a few feet away, sticking her hands into her ironed business pants. 

There’s a moment of baffled silence on Trink’s part, and then she bursts, “You’re not going to ask what happened?”

Laurel looks over, straight-faced, “What happened?” she asks lamely.

It’s good enough for her, “He punched me!”

Laurel stares for a moment, probably deciding if Trink’s behavior is worth feeding into. She doesn’t look at Finnick when she starts towards Trink. Laurel crouches down in front of her, being careful that pants don’t touch the grass beneath her. “You will have a lot more to worry about if you continue to tell on your fellow initiates. You are displaying signs of cowardice. I am not your mother, handle the situation yourself.” Laurel stands, glances at Finnick, and says; “From now on, no fighting outside of the ring. Once you’re a member, the rule lifts.”

She goes back to where she was standing before.

If Trink wants to say anything else, she can’t. You finish your piece of toast, brushing the crumbs off your hands and shirt just as the train comes in. The horn blares, letting you know that it’s coming. Laurel stands close enough for the wind to blow her clothes flat against her body.

Amos is the first to pull himself inside of the train, disappearing off to the left side. You jog with the train, remembering the high feeling the day of the Choosing Ceremony. How you had pulled yourself inside of the train like you’ve done it every day of your life. 

Now you’re struggling to push past the violent burning feeling in your calves and thighs with each step you take. You wonder, is this progress, or are you falling behind?

You grab a hold of the handle, grit your teeth and hold your breath, yanking yourself in. Immediately, there’s an achy feeling in your chest and stomach. You massage your chest, not dumb enough to go lower. Finnick pulls himself in next, almost effortlessly. He slams his head against the doorway of the train, curses leaving his mouth. You burst into laughter, you can hear Amos chuckling behind you.

Finnick rubs his forehead, face twisted. He moves inward, allowing Thyme to come in next, “Think it’ll bruise?”

“You didn’t hit yourself that hard!” you shout over the wind.

He gives you a grin.

Laurel comes in next, standing off to the side and judges every person who comes in next. Eytelle, Allio, Ossie and then Trink. Ossie comes to the left side, where you are. As for the other three, they take the right side, huddled up like they normally are. Laurel presses herself against the wall, crosses her arms, and stares out of the door.

You still don’t know what you’re doing today.

The train brings you all the way to the far fence. It brakes too harshly, making Finnick jerk. You grab a hold of his arm before he knocks into Laurel and gets himself into any more trouble. Finnick might be tall and an experienced fighter, but sometimes he’s as prepared as a baby deer. When you’d ride home together on the bus in Abnegation, he’d have to hold onto a pole, not the overhead handles. It’s because the poles are steadier.

The train comes to a complete stop underneath an awning. Laurel exits firsts, jumping down gracefully and walking a couple of steps before she stops and waits. You move out next with Finnick. This time, he makes sure to duck dramatically so that he doesn’t hit his head again. 

There’s a chain-link fence with barbed wire, a green field on the other side of it, with hills that stretch as far as your eyes can see. Dotted around are a mix of healthy green trees, and trees that are far too dead to be revived.

On the other side of the fence is the Dauntless guards, wearing black and carrying guns, patrolling what may be out there. Only recently, in the past couple of years, have the Dauntless begun to patrol the outside of the fence. As far as anyone knows, there isn’t a threat. Only more Amity farms that couldn’t fit inside of the fence. Before, the Dauntless had been controlling what went on inside of the factionless communities. But Abnegation argued that they don’t need Dauntless with guns. They need food, water, places to live. They need to be rehomed and given a new opportunity.

“Follow me!” Laurel shouts, once everyone is off the train. The eight of you wander behind her, “Today, you’re doing volunteer work, carrying heavy shit that the Amity and Abnegation can’t.” she leads you to a gate, with a wide, cracked road that leads back to the city, “And I’ll give you some insight on the jobs you’ll be eligible for if you don’t rank high in initiation.”

She nods at one of the guards on the other side, “If you don’t rank in the top five at the end of initiation, you’ll end up here. Once you’re a fence guard, there’s not much room for advancement. If you get the job, you probably won’t find a way to squirm out of it. Most who work here, say that it’s not as bad as it seems. Isn’t that right?”

She has a smile on her face when she looks at one of the guards. They give her an amused expression, and then eyes over you guys. 

“Don’t mind them, they’re just shy. The most you’ll get out of the job is the potential to go beyond the Amity farms, but that’s the extent of it.” she stops, turning to face you guys.

“What else?” Trink asks, she’s standing behind you.

“Well, you’ve seen the shops, tattoo and piercing parlors. If you’ve visited the medical ward, you can be a doctor, or a lunch lady. We have security cameras all over the Dauntless compound, so you could make that your day job.” she pauses for a moment, “Oh, and police officers. But that’s about it.

“If you rank in the top five, you get your pick of the litter. Or maybe, the litter will pick you, in some cases.” Laurel doesn’t elaborate for a moment, and then she smiles, “Did you know that they’re looking for a temporary, fourth position for leadership? If the person fits the requirements for leadership, they’ll replace one of the leaders we have now.”

“Is that what you’re going for?” Thyme asks.

Her face twists, raising her eyebrows, “It’s not a job for the fainthearted. And I’ve already got my job. Who do you think designs all the clothes you’re wearing?”

You remember the mannequin on her arm. You originally thought it was her fear, as you’ve come to realize that most of the Dauntless will get their fear somewhere on their body. But maybe it’s a passion thing, instead.

A horn blares, making Laurel raise her head, “The next train is here. Let’s get this over with, so we can get back to the headquarters.”

--

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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[geeky-politics-46]

The Asgardian Candidate

Loki/The West Wing FanFiction Crossover

Chapter 6 - “A Stranger To The Rescue”

The White House was still in a state of shell shock.

They had suffered two massive blows to their re-election campaign back to back at the hands of Mr. Loki Laufeyson.

The pounding they got in the 2nd debate was one thing. They had one more debate left. They could recover from that, even if it was bad.

What had essentially crippled the campaign nearly beyond salvage was something that had been completely unthinkable, until now. A sitting vice president announcing he was leaving the ticket he was currently on, for the administration he was currently serving in, to run as his challenger’s VP.

The tickets were now Laufeyson/Hoynes & Bartlet/?

After the announcement the president’s poll numbers plummeted, & campaign donors had started to bail. Everyone understood why. They had to find a candidate to run as Bartlet’s vice president. It couldn’t be just a replacement for Hoynes, they had to be better than Hoynes.

If they were going to make any sort of rebound in the polls they had to find the human personification of America itself. A patriot. Someone who could have been born on the 4th of July & made from apple pie.

It was Leo who had stepped forward with the only suggestion. He said he knew a guy who might fit that bill. That he knew him from when he served in the military, well he didn’t know him exactly, but he knew of him. After a few calls, & maybe even a bit of pleading on Leo’s part, the man had agreed to meet the president & discuss joining the ticket.

He too was a novice in politics, like Loki, but if he was half as good as he seemed on paper it wouldn’t matter.

Jed was studying the man’s records & FBI file when Leo opened the door to announce that their potential VP had arrived.

Leo’s assistant led him in & then stood behind the man utterly transfixed. “Thank you Margaret.” Leo said holding the door open for her to exit, but to no avail. “Thank you Margaret… Margaret! Thank you.” Having finally gotten her attention, Margaret quickly turned & left somewhat embarrassed at her own behavior.

Both Jed & Leo could understand why she had been so hypnotized. The man standing before them appeared perfect.

He was tall & broad shouldered, with well defined muscles. A firm yet subtlety squared off jaw, vivid blue eyes, & dirty blonde hair perfectly combed into place. He looked like Disney prince did a stint as a G.I. Joe, & then come to life.

He snapped to attention & saluted as the president rose from his seat. “It’s an honor Mr. President, sir.”

“At ease solider.” Jed responded chuckling, slightly startled by his salute. “Err… actually it’s captain isn’t it?”

The man relaxed & dropped his salute as he responded, “Yes sir, Captain Steve Rogers. If I may speak freely sir, having already been told why I’m meeting with you today. As an officer of the U.S. military I have sworn, as you have, to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign & domestic. Frankly sir, after watching him & hearing his views on how he plans to run this country if elected, I do believe Loki to be a threat to the US & the constitution if he were to be elected as president. I don’t like bullies, no matter where they’re from. Therefore it is with honor & duty that I accept the offer to serve as your running mate.”

Jed & Leo both exhaled deeply for the first time in several days, feeling the muscles in their necks immediately relax.

Jed smiled eyeing the man curiously. Could he feel it too? He had assumed most people younger than Leo & himself couldn’t feel the air of the great dictator that Loki gave off. How could they? They had never seen it in person before, or heard the tails of war while watching the flashes of pained memory in their parent’s eyes. Sure there were movies & museums, but real first hand memories of the last World War & those who could share them were all but completely gone now. This man seemed almost out of his time. As if he escaped from an era long gone, but remained untouched himself by the hands time. A memento of what America could be at it’s best.

Captain Rogers did have a couple caveats of his own to offer in negotiation with President Bartlet. He wanted to serve with honor, & he wanted to make sure he was able to execute the office in the best way he could if they won. “I do have a couple requests to make of you sir, if I am to serve as your vice president. The first is that I want us to be completely honest with each other, & if we disagree we hash it out in private together. The second is that I want to be the last person in the room on major decisions. If I’m going to serve as your right hand then I want to really participate.”

Bartlet was slightly taken aback at the younger man’s forwardness & candor. It was a far cry from John Hoynes, who had at times roiled against Jed’s decisions. Even going so far as to on occasion leak a disagreement to the press when he was really in a snit with him. Leo had always attributed John’s ill behavior to Jed coming from behind in the primaries to steal the nomination away from him. However in just a few sentences Steve Rogers proved he had more heart & backbone than John Hoynes had managed in nearly 5 years.

It Jed’s mind it wasn’t even a question. He knew he could trust this man. He felt it in his bones. He still dutifully glanced toward Leo awaiting his silent approval. Leo simply gave a single nod. They agreed to Captain Roger’s requests without hesitation.

President Bartlet then gratefully held out his hand towards the captain, “Well I guess I shouldn’t get too used to calling you Captain Rogers then. By the time I remember I’ll have to start calling you Vice President Elect Rogers instead.”

The two men shook hands & sealed their political fates to each other. If they won then they won together, if they lost then they lost together.

Captain Rogers smiled brightly & gave a slight nod as he clutched the President’s hand “Thank you, sir. You can just call me Steve. I’m with you until the end of the line.”

Leo smirked & jokingly added “See, it wasn’t all that hard finding someone.” For the first time in a long time, lately Leo had found himself tempted to retreat to alcohol. He hadn’t told Jed, but this campaign had him more rattled the longer it went on & Captain Roger’s words seemed to confirm that Leo wasn’t the only one who sensed something very wrong in Loki. To comfort his thoughts he had found himself wanting to escape the campaign problems in the bottom of an empty bottle. After all old habits die hard, & it had been a habit during the first campaign. Now he stood, his hands in his pockets, holding one of his AA chips. Thanking god (or whoever really controlled everything) for Captain Rogers. Without even knowing it, Cap had already protected one person from an enemy. Even if it was just an internal one.

The ticket was now officially sealed. It was set as Bartlet/Rogers.

—————

Perhaps he had underestimated the Midgardian this entire time. Perhaps Bartlet really was a foe worth his time & effort. It made him almost respect the man a little.

He held the front page of The New York Times in his left hand, right hand resting under his chin, studying the headline & image before him. Brow furrowed, causing his gleaming horned crown to shift slightly higher into his raven hairline.

How quaint.

There standing with him arm around the president was Captain Steve Rogers. Both men smiling & waving to the crowd where they announced their new ticket. The papers had already started calling him “Captain America”. Fawning over him as if he was some sort comic book superhero. Some of them had even gone so far as to draw him into one themselves, complete with a stars & stripes jumpsuit & matching shield.

Loki pictured a battle between “Captain America” in full costume & himself in full Asgardian armor. Fine tailored suit morphing into black & green leather with ornate gold plating, & his gold horned crown transforming into his full elaborate helmet. While comical on one hand, Loki was quite a showman. Perhaps in the event of a recount he could conjure up that outfit for the captain & solve the election that way instead. Leaving Bartlet & Hoynes to fight it out amongst themselves.

To Loki’s ears he even spoke like some sort of cartoon as well. All sugar & sweet, yes sir & yes ma’am. He questioned whether this Captain Rogers was even capable of telling a lie. Although the American’s had already had one president who used that schtick before. It was still something the crowd seemed to be eating up. Loki almost wished he’d thought of it himself, but what fun would that be for him really? The god of mischief & lies having to play nice. His nose crinkled & upper lip snarled as his thoughts soured at the very suggestion.

For every devious act or trick Loki had implemented, the Bartlet campaign seemed to be trying to one up him in a the wholesome department. Perhaps it was time to simply match wit for wit. Maybe Loki’s silver tounge had finally met it’s match. His lips pressed into a tight line, ever so slightly pulling his bottom lip in with his teeth as he thought.

The third debate was open topic, questions could come from any area. He figured that would allow him to fair better than the first debate, no need to try to memorize budget statistics or job numbers. He could just as easily pluck a number from someone else’s head. He was sure the intrusion into their mind would go unnoticed if he only did it when he absolutely needed to.

The president though would also surely fair better on the topic of defense this time around. His team would be going through Loki’s responses from the last debate as he sat there. This debate they would be on much more even footing.

He would not hold anything back this time, now that he knew Bartlet could clearly play the game just as well as he could. He would actually have to prepare & study for this debate. As much as he loved reading the idea of spending hours reading about Midgardian matters made him wince.

Loki quickly stood up from the desk. He had to act on his plan quickly before his distaste for spending time with mortals had a chance to outweigh the importance of the debate. He really wanted to win the presidency, otherwise he would never stoop this low.

He walked briskly to the door of his office, yanking the door open so hard it hit the wall with a deep thud. All of Loki’s campaign staffers froze at the sound & a thick silence fell over the entire room. Eyes wide on many of their faces. Loki had them terrified of him.

He resisted the urge to giggle with delight at the terrored faces he had evoked. Instead he calmly & quietly took 2 steps forward into the large open office space. He scanned their faces & inhaled deeply. His mind searching for who could best fulfill his need.

He found 3 faces. A male & 2 females. All rather mousey & plain. Their desks each piled high with binders & newspapers. Computer monitors cluttered with open windows. Yes, these 3 should work nicely.

“You, you, & you.” Loki pointed to each of the 3 as he began his verbal command, voice deep & thick with passioned energy. “In my office. Bring everything you have on Bartlet’s policy positions, & whatever we’ve said mine are. You have 5 minutes! Don’t test my patience.”

Loki immediately turned & strode back into his office,leaving any questions about his order hanging in their air. Eyes quickly darting from person to person around the room in both confusion & curiosity. They only snapped back to the present & returned to their work as they heard the door to Loki’s office slam shut behind him. Time seemed to suddenly unfreeze as staffers began talking again & phones started ringing.

Back in his office Loki positioned himself behind his desk. He had made it this far. He could practically see himself behind the resolute desk in the oval office. It was no golden throne of Asgard, but god he wanted it. His birthright was to rule, & he fully intended to.

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki disney+ #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #president loki fanfiction #president loki #president loki fanfic #marvel president loki #marvel loki #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu loki #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #vote loki #loki of asgard #the west wing #west wing #west wing fanfiction #west wing fanfic #jed bartlet #president bartlet #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #leo mcgarry #steve rogers fic #captain rogers

[wanderchyld]

Final PBIO/IOTNBO analysis and theory

This post is my final analysis and includes some questions I have as we go into the final weekend of one of the best dramas in history. It is VERY long as I consolidate and expand on my previous analysis and theories.

I also lost a big chunk of this post while I was working on the draft just a few hours before posting, resulting to this post as a little inconsistent. Excuse me if my points are messy and some points missing with some issues untouched (because I forgot 😭). I think most points can be linked back to my past theories so you can read up on them if you haven’t.

List of my theories before ep 14:

Do Heejae and the other woman

Moonyoung’s background and Go Daehwan

Head Nurse is NOT Do Heejae, she’s the previous housekeeper

Maybe Head Nurse really is Do Heejae

As usual, please note that anything I quote may be a mix of Netflix’s subs and my translation because I know Korean and Netflix tends to miss nuances sometimes.

Firstly, Park Ok Ran’s dead.

Let’s get this out of the way first. (You can read my first theory on her role in this whole saga.)

“She can’t come anymore.”

Can’t have her exposing Park Haengja. Or plot twist: she is alive and returns to save the trio from the villain 😆

No one’s memory is reliable

Not Kangtae’s as established in ep 6 that he didn’t remember his mother brought them to eat jjamppong because he’s the one who liked it, not Sangtae.

Not Sangtae’s. In spite of his good memory, it was established in ep 10 that he didn’t remember Kangtae saving him, so his memories can be flawed as well.

Therefore, not Moonyoung’s, and definitely not Go Daehwan’s.

There are few things that we can be sure because they are concurrent:

There was a female body in the basement that was disposed or disappeared.

The murderer of Taetae Bros’ mother wore Moonyoung’s mother’s a one-of-a-kind brooch.

There was a body in the reservoir.

Taetae Bros’ mother was the new housekeeper (I saw that some people disagree but here are the supporting screenshots).

There were definitely two women

My theory that there were 2 women in Moonyoung’s family still stands and I’m expanding on it.

Let’s look at the family photos first. There are multiple versions of the family photo, and I suspect they were taken at different times. Here they are in what I think is the chronological order.

1) Photo in the basement: Go Daehwan had full-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung wore a scarf and stood closer to him with his hand on her shoulder, and the lady wore a fully black high neck top with the brooch on the right.

Before the family moved in, on the day Go Daehwan showed the lady around the house, he was wearing the full-rimmed glasses, and the house looked lived in (fully furnished, fully decorated, shelves full). 

2) Go Daehwan’s photo: Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung stood right in the middle and without the scarf, and the lady wore a blazer over a straight neckline blouse with the brooch on the right.

3) Park Haengja’s photo seems to be the same as Moonyoung’s: Go Daehwan with half-rimmed glasses, can’t tell whether Moonyoung was wearing a scarf or not but she sat nearer to the lady who wore the same blazer over a straight neckline blouse without the brooch.

Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses when he realised his wife killed Taetae Bros’ mother.

Photos are evidences of relationships. In a group photo, the people who are closer would pose closer to each other. These family photos tell us that Go Daehwan and Moonyoung were actually close, and showed us the progression of Moonyoung’s relationship with the woman.

But why were multiple photos taken? If they were the same woman, why are they still hiding the woman’s face in the photos?

When Go Daehwan killed his wife, he said, “If I die, my daughter will become a monster like you.”

Why was it “my daughter” and not “our daughter?” It’s even odder for Koreans because being a very collectivist society, they don’t claim people or objects as mine. They say “our country,” “our father,” “our daughter” to show unity even when they actually mean “my country,” “my father,” “my daughter.”

Moonyoung insisted she’s an orphan. Technically, when one biological parent dies, the child is an orphan (single orphan). So perhaps Moonyoung’s not wrong. And as explored in my second theory post, she might have been referring to her biological mother. The abusive woman was probably her stepmother.

Go Daehwan told Director Oh that his wife loved Moonyoung “terribly. Very terribly,” and we have Moonyoung who doesn’t want a child to not get jealous over Kangtae’s affection. Judging by the family photos (Moonyoung posing closer to the woman each time), perhaps the stepmother was jealous of the father-daughter relationship and became obsessed with Moonyoung.

Would a child be afraid of their parent because they didn’t want to be hated? I was just afraid my mother would scold me (which was a lot). Right, we can argue that her mother was abusive, but this is something to think about.

Park Haengja: stepmother and crazy aunt

Bluebeard the French folklore, which ep 6 was based on, is about a man who married several times as he killed his disobedient wives. According to Wikipedia, his final wife had invited her sister and others over for a party before she snuck away to explore the forbidden room. Bluebeard found out and was about to kill her on the spot when her sister and brothers arrived to kill Bluebeard.

It was also in ep 6 when Taetae Bros moved in that they specifically had a shot of the dolls in Moonyoung’s old room (the brothers’ new room). I mentioned this previously: one male doll as Go Daehwan, two female dolls in similar dresses as Moonyoung’s mother and stepmother, and one small female doll.

You can see the two dolls behind little Moonyoung in her memory of her father reading her a book.

The dolls are a representation of the Go family in the house because in ep 7, only the small female doll (Moonyoung) was left, and I think there are 2 more new figurines as Taetae Bros on that cabinet but I can’t be bothered to search for a clearer shot 😁

When Go Daehwan strangled little Moonyoung, afraid she would become like her mother, they featured one of the dolls in the shot.

The point of mentioning the dolls is: Moonyoung’s mother wore a similar dress as the dolls in most of the flashbacks.

Ep 13 was based on the Korean folklore The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon and its popular movie adaptation The Tale of Two Sisters (2003). IOTNBO has more links to this story than “the bystander is worse than the abuser.”

In the movie, Moon Geunyoung’s character frequently dressed in floral patterns (like the dolls’ and Moonyoung’s mother’s dresses).

In both the folklore and the movie, the sisters were named after rose and lotus flowers. In the folklore, it’s the sister that died who was named after the rose flower. In the movie, it’s the surviving sister that was named after the rose flower. The rose is also a motif of Moonyoung’s mother.

The flower language of rose is love and passion. Personally, considering how Moonyoung always thought of her mother when she brushed her hair, and her love for a head pat, I think the rose also symbolises her mother’s "affection."

The movie is a story of two sisters who were abused by their stepmother so badly that one of them died. As it turns out, the remaining sister developed dissociative identity disorder (DID; the same disorder as the patient Yoo Sunhae) with two other personalities: her dead sister (Moon Geunyoung’s character) and her stepmother.

I take this as a lead that Moonyoung has a stepmother, who also happens to be her aunt obsessed with her sister. Wicked Witch of the West (WWOTW) coveted Wicked Witch of the East’s (WWOTE) ruby shoes; perhaps the aunt wanted to be in her sister’s shoes, figuratively AND literally.

Now here’s another “coincidence” from the same:

Left: Moon Geunyoung. Right: Im Soojung (sister with DID).

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he went to the castle.

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he/she went to the castle to cause trouble. 

Glinda the Good Witch of the North described WWOTW as worse than WWOTE.

Go Daehwan, who had recognition and memory impairment, said his wife has an angelic face but a devil lives within. Perhaps he remembers two persons as one.

We learnt from Sangin that 1) Do Heejae came from a prestigious family of medical professionals, 2) she dropped out of 3rd year of med school, and 3) she cut ties with everyone in her family. Could she have a sister in nursing? Could she have cut ties with her family because they cray cray (or the good old "you’ll starve with a creative career")?

Park Haengja has not claimed herself as Do Heejae, and the woman in the family photos are still covered.

Following these, we can assume that Park Haengja’s the bad witch who is neither Do Heejae nor Moonyoung’s birth mother. She’s the stepmother and crazy aunt (I cover more about the sisters in the next section).

There’s always a crazy aunt or uncle.

It’s just too easy if Park Haengja really is Do Heejae. I’d also be disappointed in the writer if she takes this route because it’s cliché villain and this is not a makjang drama with illogical plot twists. It would also be a step back from all the efforts this show has been making to dispel stigma against mental illness.

So they were sisters and...

...one of them died. In water. 

As per my first theory, the WWOTW and WWOTE are sisters in some adaptations of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. WWOTE died under a house then disappeared into thin air, and WWOTW pretended to die in contact of water but she returned disguised as a good person. Sound familiar?

The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon is a Korean folklore of a stepmother who abused two sisters to their death. She had her biological son push Janghwa the older sister into a pond and she drowned. The remaining sister couldn’t take the abuse any longer and drowned herself in the same pond.

The song “Oh My Darling Clementine” has a few variations but here’s the traditional lyrics (I removed repeated stanzas):

Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine In a cavern, in a canyon Excavating for a mine Dwelt a miner, forty-niner And his daughter, Clementine Light she was and like a fairy And her shoes were number nine Herring boxes, without topses Sandals were for Clementine Drove she ducklings to the water Ev'ry morning just at nine Hit her foot against a splinter Fell into the foaming brine Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine Ruby lips above the water Blowing bubbles, soft and fine But, alas, I was no swimmer So I lost my Clementine How I missed her! How I missed her How I missed my Clementine But I kissed her little sister I forgot my Clementine

These stories are all about 2 sisters and dying in water. Whether they’re sisters or not, a woman died and she’s related to Go Daehwan somehow.

The Murder of the Witch of the West

Do Heejae’s novel hold huge clues. Here’s my translation of an excerpt from volume 9 shown in ep 10.

… __’s scalp skinned with a hunting knife without hesitation. The corpse’s lips sewed in a fence stitch. The body dismembered with a hand axe and thrown into the trunk. Yooyoung persistently as she watched the back of the West Witch leave unhurriedly after finishing the killing and leaving notes.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Why do you choose to kill happy people only?"

But as usual, there was no answer. Was it because of Yooyoung’s tenacity to catch the West Witch? Yooyoung always sees the West Witch at the crime scenes. A faceless woman who always observed Yooyoung work hard on finding the criminal before leaving abruptly. Yooyoung began to look at the crime scene from the criminal's perspective. Why here? Why kill by stabbing this way? As she simulates the crime, Yooyoung finds herself assimilating with the criminal. She felt a thrill from imagining that she stabbed and cut the victim. She’s getting confused. Is she a detective or a murderer?

Around the same time, a murder occurred. The West Witch mimicked a passage from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, everything was in line with the Wicked Witch of the West, right down to the signature butterfly design. However, Yooyoung somehow felt guilty.

...

The suspect was a middle-aged woman in her 40s.

Yeah.

The misunderstanding

Othello killed his wife because he mistook his wife for committing adultery.

Romeo and Juliet mistook each other’s plan. Romeo died from drinking real poison, and Juliet faked her death before realising the mistake and killed herself with Romeo’s dagger.

Janghwa was framed and wrongfully accused by her stepmother for being unchaste. Her father believed it. When Janghwa ran away, her stepmother and stepbrother chased after her, and her stepbrother (under her stepmother’s instruction) pushed her into a pond to drown to her death.

What did Go Daehwan misunderstand? What misunderstanding did his recognition and memory impairment cause? Why was his wife being crazy but looked so shocked when he turned her around?

I do not believe that his memory of killing his wife is a complete memory because it has been mentioned multiple times that his memories are corrupted. I think it’s fragments of different memories pieced together.

What’s going on with Park Haengja?

There are a few possibilities.

Park Haengja is Do Heejae’s sister who coveted her sister’s position and grew obsessed with her sister’s novel.

Do Heejae’s Moonyoung’s biological mother and Park Haengja’s her stepmother.

OR Moonyoung’s biological mother died when she was born, Do Heejae’s the stepmother (abusive but still her mother because she raised Moonyoung), and Park Haengja’s the obsessive aunt.

She got so obsessed she came to believe she’s Do Heejae.

So obsessed she was always keeping an eye on Moonyoung to fulfil the prophecy that is the novel. ("You’re my greatest creation," and volume 3, shown in episode 10 with Park Ok Ran’s copy, has passages that describes episode 3.)

Park Haengja’s the one who killed Taetae Bros’ mother (screenshots of Do Heejae vs murderer below).

She took advantage of Go Daehwan’s cognitive impairment and instigated him to kill the real Do Heejae. She’s the one who saw Go Daehwan kill the woman and hide her in the basement.

Do Heejae wore her butterfly brooch on right, the murderer wore it on the left. Do Heejae always wore red nail polish and a gold rose ring, the murderer did not (although she could have had them removed if it’s premeditated).

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Clearly Do Heejae didn’t wear her brooch all the time, so it would have been easy to steal the brooch. However, Do Heejae wore her ring all the time, so Park Haengja can only get the ring after she dies and "truly” become Do Heejae.

End.

I think I recovered most of my points but they’re still feel incomplete 😭

Let me know your thoughts 😊

#psycho but it's okay #it's okay to not be okay #kdrama #kim soohyun #seo yeji #oh jungse #jang young nam #i just refuse to believe she's do heejae #that's too simple for this drama

[askzloyxp]

Mumbo or Iskall are the only possible Demise winners because it’s the only outcome that will sedate the shreeking pre-teens.

In many ways Hermitcraft is like professional TV wrestling: it’s real because the stunts are real, and most of the drama is unplanned improvisatory brilliance. But let’s not beat around the bush: the Hermitcraft members are not idiots, at least not since the Sheep Head incident of Season 5.

In this essay I will sketch out reasons and evidence as to why the winner for the Demise is planned and why it is going to be one of the three remaining Dragon Bros, with Mumbo being the most likely one.

The thesis of this piece basically comes down to this: Hermitcraft is aware of the destructive qualities of its fanbase and will plan Mumbo (or to a lesser degree Iskall, or to a lesser degree Bdubs) to be the winner of the piece.

This requires us to prove that first and foremost Hermitcraft is aware of the destructive qualiies of their fanbase. Luckily, season 5 provided us with just the thing: the Sheep Head incident. Long story short, for a skit BdoubleO pretended that StressMonster stole several somewhat hard to get sheep heads from one of his chests. He later revealed that she didn’t and that he was just being forgetfull and left them in a different chest - part of the whole “going insane” shtick he was doing for the whole season. Naturally, his fanbase of thousands never made it to the “oh wait, I’m just an idiot” part of the joke, and Stressmonster’s comment section was overrun with harassment and reportedly even death threats (and I have to specify that I never seen death threats exactly myself, but only because they cleaned it up with a nice swoop of a banhammer. I personally know about this because I was told by one of her more hardcore fans). Bdubs actually had to have an intervention with his fanbase in a hermitcraft episode telling them to tone it down, but in my opinion, it was too little too late, wouldn’t work on the people at fault, and frankly what did they think would happen if you pit a 10K subs channel against an over-a-million one?! (probably that it would bring a new bigger audience to Stress, but that’s just me backseat youtubing)

The Sheep Head incident was a grim reminder that the internet is the internet and the internet is also horrible. The whole NHO storyline got real soft right after it letting way for ConCorp shenanigans, which I personally found more fun anyway, but that’s neither here nor there. The message was clear tho: Hermitcraft needs to thread lightly with their bigger channels, a lesson they will not forget.

And we know that forget they didn’t, as the fanbase was swift to remind them of it. Ever wonder why we never found out the identity of the Jingler and the storyline was left to go cold? Well, it might have something to do with the Architect infinity room being Jingled. The butthurt of Grian’s sizeable fanbase was massive at the time, as pre-teens were pisssed that the reveal of it to Mumbo was “ruined”. Therefore HC just swept the Jingler identity under the rug as to not give all that pure Kyle energy a target.

Which is fine and actually pretty smart, given the circumstances. But this made the Hermitcraft storylines a very easy to spot weak point: now people with larger channels would become untouchable within the storylines.

A very simple example there is that aside from the Demise, this season so far GRIAN HAS NOT BEEN A LOSER IN ANYTHING. Every Grian-centirc storyline - and let’s face it, they’re all Grian-centric - has resulted in Grian winning or a least losing to himself. The Hermitville Build off? it’s a tie. The Area77 raid? Grian successfully accomplishes everything he’s setup to do. The Civil War? Grian’s team gets to win and Grian personally heroically delivers the last flag at the last moment!

The Jangler v Sherlock Grian storyline is specifically all about how Grian is smarter than everyone and runs laps around the rest’s deductive reasoning.

It gets to a ridiculous level, when Grian starts putting curse of binding dragon heads on people during demise - a move which on anyone else would result in SO MANY PRANKBACKS -and gets away with it! People he robbed of a helmet slot in the times when armor is crucial for some reason all react friendly and happily join his fanclub poorly disguised as a cult.

But now - a full year into the season - they finally feel safe enough to let him die in the Demise (and even then it’s probably just so he can deliver the final supertrap at the last survivors to the rooting of the toddlers in the audience).

AND HIS FANBASE IS ALREADY FARTING UP A STORM ABOUT THE TRAP THAT KILLED HIM BEING GRIEFING. They’re not upset about griefing, guys, they’re just looking for an excuse to whine about their favorite hermit not getting to win something for the first time in a year.

In this situation any actual Demise winner for Hermitcraft will just result in this fanbase lashing out at them, hence the swift dispatchment of ZombieCleo and TFC - the two remaining participants with the least following.

The only way for HC to now “handle” Grian’s juvenile fanbase is to give them someone they already like: the archi-bois frienderoos, Iskall or Mumbo. And if I had to guess, they’re going to go with Mumbo, just to make it seem like a twist: the one guy with the least aggressive tactics suddenly coming through and winning this.

A charitable expectation would be to say that JoeHills is an option, as his popularity in the fanbase has been on the rise, he’s super good at dealing with children harassing him by now, and also his channel needs some help growing, but really, that’s too much to ask from this group.

Also of note is that played genuinely on a server like Hermitcraft, Demise will last a week if that, leaving but a nice crator where once was the shopping district.

So, there’s my lenghty and unnecessarily aggressive diatribe on the nature of Hemitcraft fandom and how that bends the stories they tell with their gameplay. Hope you had fun, I know I did. And if Demise ends, and Docm is the winner, please forget you ever saw this post and pretend that I stil have some credibility left in me.

Next time on “SHUT UP ZLOY” we’ll talk about how every minigame Grian introduced was actively preventing people from playing on the server which is a bit annoying when their livelihoods depend on making videos from said server.

#zloyxp #hermitcraft #hermitcraft discourse #why do I do this to myself #shut up zloy

[unwiltingblossom]

Queen's Favor (Mysme Jumin/MC AU 11/?)

Summary: Being a maid would be much easier if the cat would just let her do her job.

AU - Instead of joining the RFA via random text, MC is hired on as one of the maids assigned to Jumin Han’s penthouse. Nothing else about the setting has changed, the messenger and the RFA still exist, only the MC’s position has been altered.

Arguably, she was too distracted to do her job properly...but 'I'm too distracted thinking about the wallet I lost and then found again' wasn't really a valid excuse for leave no matter who she spoke to about it. Even she wouldn't approve of it.

"Ow-!" She hissed as she yanked her hand back and immediately stuck her finger into her mouth - as if she hadn't just stuck the handle of her duster there five minutes before and her mouth was a sanitary sanctuary untouched by bacteria.

Maybe it was her own fault for losing focus, but she still glared at the previously jammed vacuum anyway. The blood sacrifice of biting her finger had apparently sated it, and this time when she put it back together it started and spun its brushes freely. "I'm not resetting the calendar for you, we're not counting this one."

No one was in the room to hear her admonish the equipment, but that worked just fine for her: it meant no one was in the room to see the injury, so she could claim she slipped going up the stairs before she got into the penthouse at all. If anyone asked. Though the bigger concern was that she couldn't exactly bleed all over Elizabeth, and her boss didn't want her to handle the cat with latex on her hands. Technically that probably applied mostly to the dish gloves and other things she wore, not a simple band-aid, but there was always the chance that the cat was just so pampered it'd never encountered latex before and might even have an allergy. Or maybe Mr. Han did?

Well, the important thing was, she'd have to handle the cat with one hand today.

"Next time don't sit around fantasizing about pretty boys while you work, and you won't make it harder on yourself, now will you?" She scoffed at herself, shaking her head as she turned and made her way to her equipment back to dig out the necessary bandage.

Really, though. It wasn't the first time she'd messed up something that day, just the first time she'd injured herself. Arguably, she was too distracted to do her job properly...but 'I'm too distracted thinking about the wallet I lost and then found again' wasn't really a valid excuse for leave no matter who she spoke to about it. Even she wouldn't approve of it.

It's just...

Why had her wallet been in the middle of the floor? She never carried her purse over there, so how did it even get there? Between going to the convenience store for a late night snack a couple of nights before that and her near-death walletless encounter, how had it moved from the purse she kept by the door to the floor several feet away from it? It was even in the open, and sure she wasn't getting that great sleep but did she really miss it that many days without even looking at the floor? Was she becoming a slob in her own house as a consequence of being a hyper-vigilant maid elsewhere?

But she never took her wallet out of her purse in her home, and she always took her purse with her...

A rolling 'mrew' broke through her thoughts and she blinked, looking up at the still sealed bandage in her hand. "Ah-"

Elizabeth sat next to her, blinking up at her with those curious blue eyes. Rather ominously close to her cut hand. Before the cat could get any ideas - and she find a way to end up in the hospital for something even more embarrassing than last time - she quickly pulled her injured hand up out of reach of the cat. "Don't look at me like that. You know, I have fifteen more minutes of me time before it's your turn."

She blinked, and then gingerly reached out to pat the cat on the head with her uninjured hand before standing up. "Don't tell you father about what I just said." As far as she was concerned 'focus on work, not cat' counted as 'her time', but she doubted her employer would feel quite the same about her referring to her actual job as something like 'me time' - especially while she failed to actually do the job properly.

She managed not to drift off into pointless thoughts through the rest of the day, and therefore not injure herself further or mess up entertaining Elizabeth with just one hand. Still, she'd wasted some precious time early on and had to hustle to catch up to her schedule. Rather than have a decent chunk of time left before the owner of the penthouse got back, she was left with only a few minutes before her deadline when she was finally done. She'd blame it on the fact that it was Monday...but she knew full well Mina did the penthouse on Sunday. She had no one to blame the rough day on but herself and her own ridiculous imagination.

At the end of the day, there really wasn't any other answer to how her wallet got to the middle of the floor from her purse than that she somehow spilled it out of the purse at some point. Maybe when she was tired and frazzled on Saturday night after she'd walked all over creation chasing that one street jerk. It was possible, at least, and that was better than literally any other idea that came to her.

She flumped over onto the couch in the most dramatic way possible - knees on the rug, face and arm buried into the leather cushion. She could technically leave right now, but she didn't have to, and if she was going to catch her breath after a harrowing day of being her own worst enemy, it was much more comfortable to borrow the penthouse to do that than wait until she could lay on her own threadbare bed to do it.

A soft thump and shift of the cushion told her the cat followed her.

She peeked up from her arm to the cloud of white and two bright blue eyes looking down at her. Ordinarily, she'd use the hand her face wasn't pinning to the couch to pet the cat with, but that one happened to be the no-no latex one, so staring contest it was. "I know, he'll be here any minute, but I think we both can agree this isn't the weirdest position hes walked in on me in."

Elizabeth meowed directly in her face. It smelled of fish.

"Yes, well, you'll have to pet yourself with my hand, because I'm not getting up yet."

The cat flopped to the side, head on her wrist.

"That's just lazy."

Elizabeth huffed and twisted onto her back. And bapped a cat paw directly to her cheek. All pad and no claw, at least.

"That isn't a counter argu-"

The door choose precisely then to open. Which didn't mean Elizabeth won. They could continue the conversation next time. The cat rolled itself right off of the bed and sprinted over to the legs of the penthouse's owner, and she spared a glance over her shoulder up to meet his. She didn't know if she should feel ashamed over the complete lack of surprise or intrigue in his eyes, considering she hadn't moved at all from where she'd been.

One day she'd get him to look surprised at what he walked in on, and on that day she'd probably die from whatever it was she'd have gotten herself into.

She really was tempted to just put her face back into the couch and stay there for a while, but while her employer gave no sign of disapproval that she'd yet to leave - she was pretty sure they'd long ago crossed the line to where her being literally present in the penthouse at the same time as him wasn't really a concern - that wasn't exactly an open invitation for her to remain, either. She was the help, not a guest. Alas, she had to bid farewell to the comfortable sofa and rug, and go collect her things. She brushed off her pants - no matter how much effort she put in, there was always cat hair to be brushed off - and gave her employer a small nod as she strode across the room to get her bag of stuff.

"I'm already finished, so I'll be off."

"I won't be working tomorrow." His voice was smooth and matter of fact, but still somehow managed to startle her.

"Huh-? But my schedule said-"

He nodded, casually undoing the buttons of his overcoat, before reaching down to collect the cat in his arms. He didn't even bother to take the coat off before picking her up. The words his dry-cleaner must have had about him... "It is uninterrupted, yes." He tilted his head slightly, and the rare flicker of a smile passed over his lips. "I believe...I may be able to avoid getting in the way for one day, at least."

She wasn't even sure herself if her brief laugh was out of amusement or disbelief.

"I'll be sure to report any unruly disturbances to you immediately."

His eyes squinted, just slightly, in what she chose to assume was amusement, rather than disbelief. "Do so."

–

The springs of her bed - which doubled as her couch - squeaked in protest when she settled down on it, and...yes, it really wasn't anywhere near as comfortable as the one in the penthouse. Somehow, the apartment wasn't that big and yet the remote for the television was still out of reach from where she sat. Did she really toss it that far away last night, or had she turned into such a zombie in the mornings that she kicked it across the room just getting ready and hadn't noticed it?

Really, it wasn't that strange to work with the owner present. Many times that was just part of the job, actually. Only Jumin Han's own eccentricities made it feel like something strange to work in the house when he was present. Well, that, or she still nursed some suppressed trauma over the time she got a concussion. One of those, anyway. Though it did make her wonder if she'd walk in on him doing something strange for once this time.

Granted, if she did, she couldn't help but expect there'd be an immediate NDA or something slapped down right in front of her face immediately after. Somehow he'd still manage to be the one who came out on top, even if she walked in on him half dressed and covered in strange tattoos, hunched over a pile of burning books and eating half of a rabbit or something.

Wait, no...

That image was just terrifying.

The phone lit up as she shuddered.

She glanced down immediately, train of thought broken from the sudden burst of light in the darkness of her apartment. That actor, Zen, had sent her a friendly text the night before to test whether her number actually worked, so if he put in that much effort he probably hadn't done it just out of some kind of weird sense of politeness. Follow up texts were always possible.

-No, it was just some unknown number. Really, who gave her number away to some spam company? She just kept getting random phonecalls from weird numbers recently! And they were mostly late at night, too, so probably some foreign based companies.

I bet it was that glasses jerk...

She clicked her tongue and tossed the phone to the nightstand next to her bed, flopping back onto the mattress lengthwise. "I didn't almost die today." That was an improvement over the weekend. If she managed not to injure herself in front of her boss tomorrow, she might actually be set for a completely normal day - nay, perhaps a week even.

Her own laughter cut through the rare quiet of her room. "Thinking about attractive men at work and then about your employer at home, really? You really are a mess."

Ah, yes. Her thoughts were full of a random man who rescued her from death, a ridiculous self-created mystery about her own wallet, and about her work. And she talked to herself when she wasn't talking to a cat. Her social life was in shambles.

#mysme #mystic messenger #mysme fic #jumin x mc #elizabeth 3rd #mystic messenger fic #ooc

[peakyblinders1919]

The Lion

“I’ll see you later tonight? 6:30 at the Waterfront?”

“Huh? Oh, our dinner date was tonight… I...I’m so sorry Michael but Gina’s boyfriend just dumped her and I said we could go out and forget about him. I’m sorry.”

Michael’s face instantly fell. He had been planning this for weeks, *months* now. Tonight wasn’t just any dinner at your favorite restaurant, no. He had bribed the owner to rent out the entire restaurant for you, paid a violinist to be there at the precise time he had planned to pull out a bright shiny ring for you. And just like always, you were blowing him off to spend time with Gina.

“Babe, I really am sorry.” Attempting to pick up the pieces, you walked over and cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a mesmerizing kiss; it was safe to say you knew exactly what you were doing when you bit his lip and tried to slip your tongue into his mouth. It had proved mildly effective, leaving him speechless for a few seconds. 

“No, Y/N, this is the fourth time in a row you blew me off for her. Can you just… *please* try to be there at 6:30.” He couldn’t believe it had come to this, but Michael was practically begging now. He couldn’t wait any longer to be engaged to you, that was if you said yes of course. 

“I’ll try my best Michael,” you promised with a kiss as you went your separate ways for work.

--

There was a reason you and Gina preferred The Loin over the Garrison; no one here knew the blinders and therefore you were untouchable. You liked the protection of the reputation that precedes you as Michael Gray’s girlfriend could offer on a walk home alone in the dark, but it also has its downfalls. If you drank too much, if you dared do a line of coke, or if you flirted a little with a man for Gina’s case, the spies everywhere would tell Michael and it only resulted in fights.

Wiping the white power off her noise as you threw your head back and laughed, you felt better than ever. 

“It must be said, your wild Gina.” You laughed as you both sat on the counter in the bathroom, coke scattered like glitter across the sink, you smoked out the window and swung your legs to the muffled music outside. 

“I’m wild? Then what does that make you?”

“An invalid.” You both broke into laughter, although now you two didn’t have a clue as to what the other was saying. “You know, Anthony must have been blind, or slow, or both to have let you go. You were the best he could get. You can do so much better Gina, you're a picture- no really” you insisted as you tapped some ash out the window and looked at her. “Your eyes are pretty and your hair, ugh, I would die for natural blond curls like that and-”

In light of your drunken ramblings, you were surprised to find Gina’s lips on yours. You widen your eyes, it took you a second or two to realize what was happening before you put your arm on her shoulder and gently pushed her away. Though the air around you was alive, and the heat grew up your cheeks rapidly until they were tomato red, the two of you were silent for what felt like forever before you awkwardly took a drag from your cigarette and totally turned away from her to blow smoke out the window.

“Y/N I...I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” You asked as you turned to look at her, flicking the cigarette into the trash and jumping off the counter. You took a moment to straighten your dress and fix your lipstick and hair in the mirror. 

“I was supposed to meet Michael for dinner at 6:30,” you explained as you looked to the clock, the hands indicating you were already half an hour late. “I’ve got to go. I hope you don’t go home alone.” You gave her a smile and hurried outside, hailing a taxi to the Waterfront.

Something was off. Your heartbeat started to increase as you entered the restaurant to find all the tables empty, the matradee escorting you through the entire restaurant to a table outside along the water with candles and flowers covering every inch of the tables. 

“Michael, I’m so sorry I’m late I-”

“Save your breath Y/N. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting here?”

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry I...I lost track of time. But I’m here now,” you tried as you reached across the table for his hand. He let you take it but only for a second before he pulled away, brushing it through his hair.

“How was the Lion?” He didn’t actually care, bitterness laced in his voice. And now you knew he had someone follow you there. You sat back, shaking your head.

“It was fine but, I...I’d rather have been here with you.”

“Then maybe you should have been here on time. I hope it was worth it. I hope you found Gina another guy to bring home, fuck, and cry over the next day when he doesn’t call her. I...I assume you know why I did all this.” He gestured lack-lusterly, as if he didn’t care anymore. “I’ve had this set up and planned out the past four times you’ve canceled on me. I can’t set all this up again just for you to party with Gina while I wait here for you.” He finally got up and pushed his chair back, shaking his head as he reached into his pocket and place a little velvet box on the table. “Here, this was for you.” He said as he looked at you for a second before walking away defeated.

You sat at the table, reaching out for the velvet box, tears falling down your cheeks as you laid eyes on the diamond sat inside it. You couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true, could it? This...this was all supposed to be for a proposal? And you hadn’t blown it once or twice, but *four* different times? So much so that Michael had given up?  You called after him with hot tears in your eyes and a sob stuck in your throat but he was gone and you were left wondering what to do.

--

After Michael had left and you had forgotten your keys, you couldn’t go home last night. And the last thing you wanted to do was go to Gina’s, you woke up at the crack of dawn on Polly’s couch. Your body was sore, your head hurt. Maybe it was all a dream, but there on the coffee table was the box. 

You hurried as fast as you could to get dressed and hailed a taxi to Gina’s, where you talked about everything.

“I’m sorry about last night- I- I was high…” Gina fumbled.

“Gina, I don’t care about that alright. It was a mistake. Listen. Last night, Michael was going to propose to me, but I was late. He was actually going to propose on four separate occasions-”

“Well, Y/N, that’s wonderful-”

“Yeah, if I hadn’t blown him off for you. I…I’ve got to put Michael and our relationship first… so… please don’t contact me for a while.” The look on Gina’s face implied that she had more to say, objections to make, but you wouldn’t listen as you headed out the door and straight for home.

You knocked on the door multiple times, frightened that maybe Michael wouldn’t even let you in. It took everything in you to not envelope him in a tight hug when he opened the door. 

“May I come in?”

He moved from the doorway and watched as you entered and walked in the living room, sitting down awkwardly although you were in your own home. 

“Here Michael,” You began by setting the velvet box on the table in between you two. “I...I don’t deserve this right now. I’ve been a terrible girlfriend. I learned something last night. I...I don’t want to lie...Gina tried to kiss me last night. She was drunk and i pulled away and headed right to the restaurant, even though I was still late. I thought we were close friends, that Gina and I were there for each other but a friend doesn’t take you away from the one you love and I-”

You were nearly shaking in your boots as you began talking about all of this, worried that hearing about your awkward night at The Lion would drive him mad, he cut off your babbling with a kiss. 

You smiled. “I’m sorry. I was...jealous I guess? I...I just wanted more of your attention. I...I still love you. So much.” He leaned forward taking the box in his hands and opening it for you with a slight nod.

“Will you….Marry me?”

@marvelismylifffe @snugleo @all-righty-mr-mighty @l0tsofpennies @baker15191 @opheliasbrokenmind @justhappytobehere1

#peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #michael gray fanfic #michael gray headcanon #michael gray fanfiction #michael shelby imagines

[vanessaxyvonne]

The Heist of Carnival

When: A long ass time ago ; 8 years ago

Where: São Paulo, Brazil ; London ; Santa Monica 

Warnings: Suicide Mention

Many years ago, in a small town near Rio de Janeiro lived the home of the Maldettes. The mother, Sofia, was a well-known seamstress that spun beautiful dresses. Thiago, was a baker, whose bread’s scent was able to be detected 8 blocks away and lured many hungry dwellers. Together, they had three sons, Gabriel, Octavio, and their youngest, Carlos. Now Carlos, was the father of James, grandfather to Raymundo, and the great-grandfather to Vanessa and Naveen and he, is the mastermind to go down in Brazilian history. 

Carlos, was the youngest son, known for his wild ideas and great ambition. While the rest of his brothers helped either shoe shining, mending clothes, farming, or in the bakery with their father, Carlos often had his head in the clouds, much to his family’s chagrin. He dreamed of wanting bigger and better for his family, not just living to just make it by. Sure, they lived alright, but it could be better. They could all have their own separate rooms, and running water, and the like. So, aside from work, he looked for odd jobs in the city of Rio, and ultimately landed himself as a delivery boy for a major steel company. 

He slaved day in and day out in the big city still, his family struggled to scrape on by with what was made and Carlos was beginning to get discouraged. That was, until he heard a specific conversation one morning when he was about to drop off the latest delivery. The men all laughed about the embezzlement that they were doing to the poor unsuspecting owner of the company, Mr. Silva. There sat a few co-workers, the mayor of his town, and a few other business men, just counting the money and laughing, as if it were nothing. He was outraged, it made so much sense now that he was overworked and underpaid and why his town was suffering financially. All of that money was going into their greedy pockets. He knew that if he went to Mr. Silva he’d risk his job, so instead, he devised a plan as he made his way home. 

He sat his brothers down while their parents were closing up shop for the evening. 

“I know why our town is suffering,” Carlos suggested quietly. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “Carlos, our town suffers because of the flood we had a few months ago. Restoration takes time, we’ve been through this.”

Octavio nods in agreement to the eldest son.

“Just...hear me out for once rather than dismiss what I have to say.”

Octavio peers to make sure their parents are away and he nods. 

“Make it quick.”

“The mayor is in on a huge embezzling scheme. I overheard him speaking with a few of Mr. Silva’s board members while running a delivery,” He began, “I know it sounds crazy and outlandish but—“

“It all makes sense,” Octavio chimed in. Octavio was always the more quiet and calculated brother, so it was rare to see him chime in. “I was asked to make a few deliveries from the farm to the company this week, but I was only allowed through the back. I didn’t understand why I was sent at first…perhaps because I was big on arriving on time compared to the others…but the deliveries were certainly not beef because of the weight and, also the smell. While the packages were marked to Silva, I handed them to a man named Carvalho and he’d always have a box cutter.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened at the revelation of his brothers and shook his head. 

“Do you understand what danger you both have gotten yourselves into? You know what they’ll do to us, to our family, if they find out?” He whispered harshly. 

“That’s why I have a plan. We get the money back and we put it back into our city and implicate the mayor.”

“You’ve lost your mind, brother,” Gabriel shook his head.

“He’s right, Carlos. Even if we could, it’s bad enough we’re in danger. The best we can do is go on as if we don’t know anything and I can always move and find a new job, considering I’ve been their delivery boy,” He sighed. 

“I will not let them separate our family—“ Carlos began with frustration.

“And I will not let you endanger yourself. Please, Carlos,” Octavio pleaded. 

“Give me a day. That is all I ask,” He pleaded. Gabriel sighed, and Octavio nodded quietly. 

Let the games begin. 

Within the day, Carlos managed to assemble a group of seven skilled individuals in pick-pocketing, illusionary work, finance, and law enforcement. Then, he re-presented the pitch to his brothers with all seven of the individuals, Bernardo, a pick pocketer. Paulina, the town “magician”, known for skills nearly rivaling Houdini. Joao & Pedro, twin detectives. Magdalena, a recently fired accountant from the company. Francisco, a professional gambler. Mario, a construction worker from the company, and finally his son, Junior, a banker. 

“Here’s the pitch. We steal the money back to give to Mr. Silva and the rest of the city,” Carlos began with a hopeful look. 

“Not only that, but this is totally to nearly a billion dollars. There will still be millions left over,” Magda projected, “Therefore we would all be able to get an equal cut of the money. We could rebuild our homes, move out of Brazil, do whatever we please,” She finished. 

Octavio and Gabriel sat flabbergasted at this pitch. Gabriel was about to protest about this, knowing that this wasn’t going to end well and that all 8 of those people could potentially die, but Octavio’s life was on the line. 

“No. Let them, brother,” He said. “Carlos…you must execute this with caution. There would be a lot more to lose than just myself,” He warned. 

“I won’t let you down, any of you,” He looked around and nodded with a smile. 

There was a fundraising event being held for the company where many of Rio’s finest would be attending and mingling amongst each other which was the perfect opportunity for the gang to strike. It was planned intricately as it would happen right in the middle of Carnival and as long as they cleaned up nicely, they would be able to blend in easily without being completely recognized. 

In the days leading up to the heist they were able to find out multiple things between listening in on conversations, getting a few of the board members drunk, and of course, the art of seduction. 

The locations of the vaults, the difficulty of opening them 

Who got the funds and why

How they would be able to pool the funds back into their small town 

And now it was show time. 

“I pray we all make it out alive and I pray that our town gets the justice that it deserves,” Carlos announced as they all held up their shot glasses filled with rum. 

It would be their Felix Felicis for the evening as they made their way into the annual event of pre-Lent festivities. 

While many partied and got recklessly inebriated, the heist began. Bernardo was able to swipe the keys to each of the vaults as he partnered with Gabriel, who was surprisingly good at acting, by being obnoxious, dancing around a few of the men, purposely spilling his drink on them. That part was a cake walk. 

This left Junior and Magda with the keys and they headed back to hit the vaults with Mario who used the excuse to work as there were a few “leaks” in each of the spots that he needed to fix. He purposely made silly mistakes to give him ammunition to go in and cover for the other two. 

Paulina and Carlos set up the scene by having a dramatic magic show that Paula and Carlos had rehearsed together. (And sparks were certainly flying between the two of them) With this, they involved the mayor, having him disappear and trapped in a box for a few moments to buy those back at the offices more time before having him reappear. 

Joao and Pedro searched the offices for the missing files of the embezzlement while Junior and Magda were able to get the money out of the vault and loaded into trucks to lead back to the village. The stakes were growing as the time was ticking down to when some of the board members would have to go back and grab whatever it was that they had stashed. 

Francisco managed to swindle a few of the drunken board members of finding out the secret locations and amount of money of their accounts. That was…until one person caught on to that was going. The gig was up and they were just moments away to getting caught. As each part of the group were surrounded by henchmen and body guards, 

Joao and Pedro come out with the longest list of an arrest warrant alongside the Brazilian authorities, arresting each and every board member, including the mayor. Mr. Silva, not only grateful, but was so elated to know that the money would be restored to his company and offered Carlos to start a new branch in London, signing him as the sole beneficiary as the man did not have any children. 

The secret money, you may ask? Within the few months, the community began to restore itself and all of the assets were to its citizens providing better housing, rebuilding businesses, farms, and crops. As for the infamous 8? They all had their cut of 20 million dollars and all scattered throughout the world. Carlos, split the money with his family, each of them receiving 5 million dollars, before he left to London with none other than Paulina. 

The thing about Carlos was…he was addicted to the high of the heists and pulled many more to build up his fortune, while also helping struggling communities and giving his own employees a lending hand…even including them in on heists. 

—

“His final heist, was to steal Queen Elizabeth’s coronation crown, and while he was successful and everyone had their share, he was nearly caught. Fearing his family would lose everything, he committed suicide to make sure that his sons and daughter, would have their futures secure. After all, the money would be untouchable as the majority of it was in Reales. My mother was also in on many heists and knew how to hide the money, and so, here we are,” Mr. James Maldette chuckled at a wide-eyed, eighteen year old Vanessa. 

“Are we still untouchable, Granddad?” She asked curiously. 

“Please, even if they come after us for those assets, collectively, we’re still a wealthy family. Between your parents, your aunts, uncles, cousins, even you as a model. You wouldn’t miss much. Sure, we’d drop down in value, but you wouldn’t lose your home,” He shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. 

“So…why are you telling me this?” She asked curiously. 

“Because, you remind me very much of my father. A pioneer, headstrong, a leader. Someone in this family deserves to know the truth and with that knowledge, you could turn the tables if you so wished to, mi menina,” He grinned. 

“It sounds a bit Ocean’s Eleven, don’t you think? I mean it’s so modernized, people will surely catch on!” She shook her head in disbelief. 

“Well, it’s based off an old joyride I did when I was about 21 with a few old pals, actually,” He smirked. 

“Granddad!” Her eyes widened. 

“Now mind you, the man had it coming to him. The difference between myself and the movie is that I never got caught and it wouldn’t matter now as the man is dead, but those overworked employees of him definitely had a wonderful paycheck,” He smiled. “Therefore, Vanessa, do what you will with this information. I trust that one day, you’ll do some good with it, poppet.”

Nessa chuckled and shrugged, “Perhaps, one day. Although I do think it’s a bit reckless. What’s a rich gal like me going to do with all that money?” 

“Do something good with it, perhaps? Incite revenge? Create war. I can’t tell you what path to forge, as I’ve told your father many, many, times, but I trust that you will do right by you and the Maldette line,” He stated rather simply. Nessa couldn’t stand how ambiguous her granddad was sometimes, but she loved him all the same. 

“I hope so,” She sighed. 

“I know so,” He reassured her, patting the top of her head with a proud smile. 

#sp #FINALLY THE GOT DAMN ORIGIN STORY #suicide tw #this is also super long

[dylansfm]

       〔 ZOEY DEUTCH, 22, CISFEMALE, ODIKINESIS 〕╰  _DYLAN O’SHEA _ just  came  over  half - blood  hill .  you  know ,  the  child  of  ARES  who  was  claimed  3 years ago ?  i've  heard  chiron  say  that  pronoun  is  COURAGEOUS & INDEPENDENT ,  but  if  you  ask  the  aphrodite  kids ,  they'd  say  they're  COMBATIVE & SPITEFUL .  i'd  say  they  remind  me  of drinking whiskey, broken glass, the glow of a flame, bruised knees, split lips & basking in the feeling of victory, especially  since  they're  AGAINST THE NEW CABINS.  (  ✎  tobi ,  20 ,  she/her ,  mst .  )

hello everyone ! i’m tobi, 20 years old, and this intro post is really late but here it is ! i haven’t rp’ed in forever so i’m probably going to be a bit rusty, but i’m excited. you can find some quick wanted connections at the bottom of this. i’ll reblog some wc gifsets and try to write up a proper post later. if you want to plot, like this post and i’ll message you, or you can get me on discord logan lerman's side bitch#7115 !

name:     dylan alexandra o’shea  

nicknames:    her mom calls her dyl pickle, call her that if you dare

birth date:    january 2nd   

gender:    cis female

pronouns:    she/her

ethnicity:    kinda obvious i think

nationality:    american

hometown:    memphis, tennessee 

demigod abilities:    odikinesis –– the ability to arouse feelings of anger, hatred and bloodlust in others

cabin number & godly parent: cabin five, ares

edie o’shea is your average southern belle. little rich girl, ex-beauty queen, ex-cheerleader, known around the neighbourhood for her beauty and being the definition of southern hospitality. but when she was 18, she went through her rebellious, punk, 90s grunge phase ( or at least, as grungy as you can get in the deep south ). and it was during this phase that she had her fateful encounter with ares. they met at a bar –– or was it a club ? concert ? she can’t even remember anymore –– and he introduced himself, didn’t even bother to hide his name. edie assumed it was a nickname or a joke. 

they had a brief, intense, torrid love affair for a few months before edie became pregnant. ares gave a quick explanation of his situation ( edie was so infuriated nothing he said even registered ) and he split, leaving edie with dylan as a goodbye gift. edie quickly went back home, got back into her parents’ good graces, and tried to forget ares and get her life back together for her little girl. 

dylan’s grandparents are similar to emily and richard gilmore from gilmore girls –– they’re snobby, controlling, and a bit too invested in their granddaughter’s raising. dylan loves them both, but her complete lack of care towards social status and reputation is a constant battle. 

dylan o’shea is very much the opposite of your average southern belle. seemed to have inherited both her mother and father’s wild ways, going against all of her mother’s attempts to tame her. she’s aggressive, coarse, and tactless. she’s attended and been expelled from damn near every school in the city, gotten into more fights than she can count, been arrested enough times that she knows quite a few officers by name. she’s been uncontrollable from day one, a hurricane that constantly leaves destruction in her wake.

her mother never intended to send dylan to camp half blood, she thought dylan was bound to get herself killed if she was left by herself. but dylan’s demigod ability, odikinesis, began to manifest when she turned 14. she had always had a penchant for getting into trouble, but it seemed like she was constantly being provoked into fights. her family never believed her when she said that she wasn’t doing anything, that people always came at her. they figured it was her nature, per the course as a child of the god of war.

the day things went to utter shit –– she doesn’t remember much of what happened now. it was over something stupid, a guy saying a stupid, shitty comment that shouldn’t have made her as angry as it did. next thing she remembers she’s face down on the ground, held down by 3 police officers and thrashing around like a wild animal. she’s told she beat him near to death ( or maybe –– ? she never asked, never really wanted to know ) and she lands in juvie. it was run down, under supervised and overcrowded, and her powers only grew stronger with time. a year of fighting ( both inmates and guards ), getting sent to isolation, and doing it over and over again finally broke her. abruptly, the fights stopped, and like a switch, instead of constant anger, she felt nothing at all.

her mother saw her state and knew both that something was wrong, and that she wasn’t the one who would be able to fix it. for the first time, she swallowed her pride and prayed to ares to guidance, help, anything. dylan was released soon after, something about early release for good behaviour ( ha ! ) and she immediately goes on the long drive to camp half blood. only when they get there does she learn that she was being haunted by a ker ( female spirits who personify violent death ), which was drawn to her ability and underlying power. she arrived at chb when she was 15, and has been there ever since.

some quick facts about dylan !

she has a thick southern accent and possibly the smoothest voice you’ve ever heard –– expect more than a few y’all’s here and there, though i’ll try not to be too obnoxious

she likes using nicknames –– lamb, pumpkin, june bug, the works –– just to be condescending

she’s quick to insult and even quicker to anger, but not necessarily unfriendly. she genuinely doesn’t mean any harm –– most of the time

she has a awful temper. as in, had-to-take-anger-management-classes awful. it genuinely takes a toll on her and she constantly struggles to keep her rage in check. she’s had enough years of learning that on a good day, she’s fine. on a bad day –– whew.

her inspirations incl: jessica jones ( jessica jones ), katarina stratford ( 10 things i hate about you ), reyna avila ramirez-arellano ( the heroes of olympus ), clarisse la rue ( percy jackson & the olympians )

despite how she comes across at first ( idiot jock ) she’s generally very intelligent. she especially likes history

she’s very flighty, her mind never stays on one thing and she’s constantly doing, forgetting about that, starting that, dropping that and –– you get the point. talking to her can be a bit daunting because she’s constantly changing the subject on you

the only time she’s really focused is when she mid-battle, on a quest, or thinking about strategy ( she’s a bit of a stereotype, she already knows )

from her time in juvie she’s learned quite a few –– skills. how to pick a lock and how to sneak contraband being the most relevant ( less relevant: how to turn a battery into a lighter & make booze using just bread, sugar, and fruit juice ). she’s managed to get some contacts whenever she’s permitted to leave camp for a quest, so she always has a decent supply ( weed only, she used to run with bad crowds, seen the damage the other stuff can do )

after her experience with the ker, she’s has a genuinely, almost debilitating fear of spirits and hauntings specifically. it’s a trait about herself that pisses her off to no end, and she’d die before letting anyone find out about it. 

& now for the ·。ﾟ𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 ! as i said above, i’ll write a proper post when i’m a little less tired

platonic

rivals –– friend version ! dylan is quite possibly the most competitive person on earth, it’s in her genetics. she thinks of everything as a competition and she always has to win. however, a victory is only sweet when it’s against a true adversary. she spends a lot of time with this person and she’s convinced herself that it’s so that she can eventually prove she’s their superior, but she actually just likes being around them.

           ( bonus points –– sparring partners no rules sorta deal, out in the woods, scratches                from twigs, bloodied rocks, anything to let some of her aggression out )

opposites attract –– this person is different from her in almost every way ( grumpy, combative, wild vs friendly, sweet, caring, etc ) and by all accounts should provoke her ire and contempt. yet somehow, she instead genuinely care about this person and their wellbeing ( and it makes her sick to her stomach ).

romantic

crush –– oh it’s just so pathetic. dylan prides herself on being untouchable, with a dark black hole where her heart should be. however, this person is a very unwanted reminder that she is, in fact, a real person with emotions and feels and ugh. she’s carried a torch for this person from the day she met them, and she’s been unable to rid herself of these feelings despite her best attempts. this person definitely doesn’t know ( she tries to convince herself of this ) and she plans to ignore the nervousness, unconscious smiles and, ugh, butterflies until the day she –– dies, i guess.

antagonistic

rivals –– enemy version ! dylan is probably the most competitive person on earth, which also makes her one of the sorest losers you’ll ever meet. she hates losing, and she finds it difficult to keep that sentiment to herself. for whatever reason dylan doesn’t respect this person, and therefore can’t handle losing to them as graciously as she might otherwise. despite her temper she’s usually not the type to hold a grudge ( more the fight and forgive type ) but her hatred of this person is a giant mental block.

#˙・゜◤ 𝔻𝕐𝕃𝔸ℕ – 「 the grace of the 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓼 comes by 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮. 」 #ambrosia:intro