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idahofallshq · 1 year

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03: BLOOD & BLAME. 25TH JUNE - 16TH JULY, 2044.

TW: DEATH, HANGING, GORE.

30th june.

it starts with screams. some human, some less so.

the sun hasn't so much as reached the highest point in the sky when the mall becomes cold with panic. the first scream is undeniably human, horror-struck and bone chilling. everyone inside the building hears it. then they hear the second scream, no, a screech. it can't be, can it?

the mall breaks out in a frenzy. it's not just one person who turned in their sleep. it's a few, then it's a dozen, then there's too many to keep track of. it's a massacre, and the infection doesn't discriminate. it takes the old, the healthy, and the young. their blood now stains the floors of grand teton mall.

once the last infected is cut down, the powers of observation push through the fight or flight. the runners may be dead, but there are still residents who have signs of sickness. and yet, no scratches or bites in sight. it's in this quieter evaluation of the damage done that discordant laughter cuts through the air.

there is a man that no one can claim to know very well. some have seen him in the kitchens, some have seen him sitting alone. his laugh is maniacal, and there's satisfaction in his eyes. he is grabbed by the neck, but it does not cut him short.

“the oracle said it would be beautiful.” and he smiles in a way that says and he was right.

the mall goes under quarantine within the hour. no one can leave, no one can enter. 89 bodies are dragged out to be burned. among them, the body of marseline well. twenty-one years young, and mauled almost to the point of being unrecognisable. the young medic in training's end is perhaps one of the most shocking. after all, she was left struggling with a runner until it chewed and ripped her to the bone.

2nd july.

the quarantine is lifted, but not before more infected bodies are thrown onto the fire in the car park. the death count rises to 104.

it's a little after midday when alexei orders every resident to congregate outside the mall. he stands tall on the roof of a truck, waiting for them to arrive. the truck is parked under a street lamp, and from it, hangs a noose. next to alexei, some might recognise the man laughing after the initial outbreak. he's bloody, swaying weakly, with his hands and feet bound together. he's not laughing anymore.

silence falls over the street and alexei smiles. “i've gathered you all here today for answers,” he starts, almost humbly, as if he's giving idaho falls more than it deserves, “the outbreak in the mall was no accident, and we have our culprit.” alexei turns to the prisoner, grabbing his chin as the weak man recoils. “this man comes from up north, yellowstone. some of you might know what sort of people reside there, but for those of you who don't, the people of the national park believe the infection is a gift from god.” there's an outbreak of laughter and jeering, but it stops as soon as alexei holds out his palm. “it was their intention to begin a purge in idaho falls, but they didn't do a good enough job.” cheers come from alexei's most staunch followers, insults hurled at the cultist.

“it seems some of us have forgotten what happens when you stand against me.” there's a beat where alexei looks into the crowd, eyes falling on individuals who have caught too much of his attention as of late. including his last remaining child.

alexei steps down from the roof of the truck, and his brother takes his place at the prisoner's side. alexei's executioner holds the cultist still as he begins to struggle, and puts the noose around his neck. it tightens, and the executioner drives the truck just far enough so the prisoner falls. silence washes over the crowd. there haven't been public hangings since the uprising.

the cultist struggles. he gasps for air. his face turns red, then purple. then his body falls still.

alexei returns to the roof of the truck, not so much as a glance in the direction of the hanged man. “i think you'll all be relieved to hear that there is a silver lining amongst our loss. i will be promoting twenty of you to the rank of enforcer. those of you who have shown resolve, ingenuity, leadership, but most importantly, loyalty, over the past month will be given the privilege to serve under me directly, for the betterment of the zone.” alexei reads out one by one, the names of the residents who will now have enough rations to keep their stomachs from growling. there's jealousy cutting through the wake of the public hanging. alexei reads out the nineteenth name, and then stops. “the last spot is up for grabs. see, i need you all to do something for me. one of my enforcers, mike giraldi, was found dead, but not because of infection. there were no signs of poisoning, scratches, or bites. no, mike was found stabbed, by very human hands. the last spot for enforcer goes to whomever brings me the culprit. you have two weeks.”

it's a tempting reward. even to those who don't want the responsibility of the role, being promoted means more food, better sleeping conditions, and a degree of safety and protection not extended to anyone else. already, bonds are being worn away, and suspicious glances are passed through the masses. the seed of distrust has been sown, and in times of shortages and countless deaths, that seed blooms quickly.

an enforcer takes the stage on the roof of the truck to deliver some changes coming into effect. travelling restrictions are being introduced for resident's safety. from now on, residents may only leave their station with the permission of or by request of alexei or an enforcer. it is also outlined that alexei will only accept evidence in the form of a written and signed or verbal confession from the accused.

3rd - 16th july.

a cold war begins. neighbour turns on neighbour as residents fight for the spot that will guarantee safety in such turbulent times. some try to find the culprit, others use it as an opportunity to incriminate and, hopefully, get rid of enemies and problems. confessions roll in as the weeks go by, and a considerable amount are fabricated. alexei knows this, he was rooting for this. trust amongst residents is being torn apart, and with it, alexei's control over the zone intensifies. few blink when someone gets whisked away from the streets in broad daylight, for they know the resident will return, leaving behind a shaky signature in a blood stained paper with truths or lies.

what lengths will you go to to ensure starvation doesn't take you before something else does?

but there's a light at the end of this tunnel, barely a flicker, or is it a spark? unbeknownst to the tyrant and his loyalists, rebellion takes a stance, and with all eyes on finding alexei his culprit, there's room for a brave few to begin gathering quiet forces.

ADMIN NOTES:

all characters (not all idaho residents) are stuck in grand teton mall for the quarantine, but you are free to decide how your character ended up there, either on purpose by trying to save others or being unable to escape the chaos.

if you'd like one of your character's NPCs to die in the outbreak, you don't have to approach an admin about it.

signed confessions don't have to be authentic, but please don't fabricate a confession for a character without plotting it with the respective player first. your characters can also have submitted confessions (fabricated or not) for NPCs if you want your character to look good in alexei's eyes. you can either write up a confession and post it to the dash, or message an admin letting us know who your character has submitted confessions from.

the 20th spot for enforcer will be awarded in the next timestamp, and this role will be chosen by us admins. we will pick a character/player that we think would make the most of this role as there will be plot implications for this role. if you really like the sound of this, then please message an admin and we will consider your wishes in the final decision.

we actually encourage characters to get into some trouble in this timestamp because alexei will be keeping a note of those who've stepped out of line but won't be punishing anyone heavily but mike's killer for now. getting your character on alexei's bad side will help with future plot drops and give your characters some fun plots, so if you like the idea of this, then please message an admin and we can plot something.

30TH JUNE.

OPHELIA sees eddie, son of the late cook raymond, stabbing mike.

MATTY see's OPHELIA running from mike's body and confronts her about it.

VINCENT manages to get the word out about the outbreak and reaches ZAHRA over the radio.

SIMON and DOMINIC, amidst the chaos, find an unknown laughing man. they grab the cultist and lock him up for interrogation.

3RD JULY.

JESSE, found injured near mike's body in the outbreak, is interrogated by NIKOLAI.

5TH JULY.

ANSO suspects DAIYU, and asks her about the murder on patrol.

9TH JULY.

NELE corners GABRIEL and questions him about his whereabouts around the time of the outbreak.

11TH JULY.

in a joint effort, JOHANA and ORION corner a too-loud cook and attempt to gain a confession. the cook’s friends intervene. [result up to players]

13TH JULY.

MARA approaches ZAHRA about enlisting her help in fighting back quietly against alexei.

FELIX approaches EVA about enlisting her help in fighting back quietly against alexei.

14TH JULY.

TEDDY approaches GILBERT about enlisting his help in fighting back quietly against alexei.

SURI suspects HENRIK and tries to ask him questions over dinner.

#plot drop.

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bokuaosubs · 9 months

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Nice to meet you, my name is Hagiwara Kokoka! (Hagiwara Kokoka 1st blog)

Thank you for checking my blog out!!!

Once more, I am part of ‘Boku ga Mitakatta Aozora’ and my name is Kokoka Hagiwara!

If you happened to watch my Showroom distribution, I am very happy to see you again ¨̮♡

This is my first time writing a blog so I’m more than a little nervous lol My writing may be a bit strange, but I hope you’ll be kind enough to give me a warm welcome!!

I will introduce myself while including lots of details so you can get to know a lot about me from now on! ( ｰ̀֊ｰ́)و I was born in Shizuoka Prefecture, which has many delicious foods such as Sawayaka’s famous hamburgers [they have what is called by some the best hamburger steak in Shizuoka, if not in the entirety of Japan] and whose nature is plentiful ／”’＼ I am 17-years-old and a sophomore in high school! I turned 17 quite recently, on June 30th! It was a very happy birthday, celebrated by many people and by all the members ( ᐪ ᐪ ) ♡ And, by chance, did you see the introductory video that was released on my birthday?!? I was nervous but, in my own way, I did my very best to get a good result! If you haven’t seen it yet, I hope you will soon!! Here’s a photo from the shoot!!

Now, I will talk about my favorite things!

My favorite food is Karaage! [food such as chicken or fish that is deep fried] I also love scallops, tongues [of various animals, such as beef tongue], fruit, ice cream, and, most of all, chicken! I very much like eating and I am happy whenever I eat ( •̤ᴗ•̤ )♡

Lately, I’ve been addicted to eating yogurt with various frozen fruit on it, and I’ve been having that almost everyday ( ¯ᵕ¯ )

Despite the fact that I love to eat, there are many things I don’t like、、 cucumbers being an example of one type of food I really don’t like!!

Recently, I’ve come to like reading shoujo manga! I also really like Detective Conan and due to its influence on me, I’m also a fan of watching mystery novels and movies, too!!

And my #1 hobby is、、、 …It’s sleeping!! LOL

I really like talking to people, but I like sleeping even more (՞ .ˬ.՞) Truth be told, I can sleep anywhere!!

About seasons… I like winter because I can eat lots of delicious food and see many of my favourite friends thanks to holidays such as Christmas or New Year’s!! I also like winter clothes, so winter is my favorite season!!

It’s been very hot lately and I can’t help but feel like I’m growing a bit tired of summer, but, nonetheless, I want to make this the best summer ever!! Let’s have a great summer together with BokuAo!

I still have a lot of traits that are kinda immature, and there are still many things that I fail to do or can’t do well.

But, from now on, I will do my best so that you can one day say that I’ve grown a lot.

I would like BokuAo to be a group that is loved by all the members I love and by many people, without forgetting to be grateful to the people that support us, staff-san, my family, and many others.

Please watch over me!!!

[TL by: yuzuiro]

#blogs #1st blog #hagiwara kokoka #tl by yuzuiro

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the-great-commission · 2 years

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I Can’t Do This On My Own

“Jesus, take the wheel Take it from my hands 'Cause I can't do this on my own I'm letting go So give me one more chance And save me from this road I'm on."

June 30th, 2018, at around 4-5 in the afternoon I was in a car accident that changed me. Every struggle that comes my way, I end up thinking “it’s because of that stupid accident”. My family was at my Nana’s house enjoying the pool for 4th of July. I had left early with my two younger sisters, Katrina and Madison, with everyone else just a 10-minute drive away. My sisters at the time were ages 12 and 10, and I forget what song was on, but it got us talking about prayer. I was asking the girls if they pray besides at church and I told them how I like to write some of my prayers in a journal, like letters. I was explaining how it doesn’t have to be anything extravagant, God just wants to hear from them.

Next thing I know the car is being flipped. A 16-year-old ran a stop sign in a large work van near my house and came full speed into my car. If I had been going any faster my 10-year old sister, Madison, might have been drastically hurt. Some people say it is impossible that my car flipped, and Madison and I only got scratches as our external injuries, but I remember seeing the grass above me. My car ended up just off the road in the field, right side up and totaled. Luckily, there was a man who saw the whole encounter and stopped to help me. The man instantly made sure I could get out and move without injury. He called 9-1-1 as I tried to talk to my sisters to see if they could move. I got Madison out; she was just scared. Katrina couldn’t move though without it hurting, and that’s when I broke down. The man (I never got his name) went to check on the others as their van was on its side, and he came back quickly seeing as they were without injury. Knowing that didn’t make me feel any better.

I called my parents who got there as soon as they could; and the fire police and EMTs got there soon after. Katrina had been cut out of her seatbelt to which they realized was the reason for her injury. In the ambulance ride we were told because she wasn’t seated fully upright, that the belt cut into her spleen and a bruised pancreas. We were all at the E.R. until about 6am doing different tests (and also waiting to be seen). Katrina went right away, but Madison and I had to wait. I kept taking selfies with Madison, telling her how cute her scars were and soon she believed it herself. Katrina got transferred to a larger hospital for a whole week of treatments and recovery.

2018 was during that time that I was still not going to my home church, but I had started going to this new church, Asbury UMC. During the Sunday of my car accident, it was a transition from one pastor to another at Asbury. While in the hospital that night both pastors came to see us. During the following week when Katrina was in Cooper, I was fired from a very toxic work environment where I had dedicated 6 years. I remember after being fired thinking “why didn’t I die”. I had to used up the balance of different credit cards to get a new car, and in that moment, I wanted to take it and go drive into a tree. You work so hard, you try to always do the right thing, and yet there will always be a child running a stop sign or an arrogant perverted boss. Sometimes, we don’t see God’s works until much later on. Well, I didn’t get in my car, I called my pastor from Asbury. He helped me calm down enough until I was able to drive to a friend’s house.

Since my car accident, we’ve noticed I’m not normal. My doctor used to say it was just “stress from losing a job”, then “anxiety from working the midnight shift at wawa”. I knew something was off because I would black out and not remember things, and (this is embarrassing) would black out and come out of it wet. I’ve been driving having these black outs before, and it’s interesting that my brain knows how to still function. Like, I was able to stay on the road, within the lines, at the speed limit, etc. So, what was it? I am diagnosed with a form of epilepsy. There is scarring on my left temporal lobe. It also effects my memory, so you may hear me say to you “I don’t know if I’ve told you this but”. I am on medication now. My neurologist said I will always live with the twitching and the chronic migraines, which isn’t fun.

We can’t do it on our own, we need God, we need fellow believers, we need our family. This post came to me last night as I was alone in my room, the weekends are boring on campus, I wish I could just drive home. The library closed at 4pm and so I just went back to my dorm to study. My mind drifted to how I miss home, but none of them probably miss me. Just nothing but intrusive thoughts that didn’t belong. I just had to say, “Lord, I need you”.

“Lord I come, I confess Bowing here I find my rest Without You I fall apart You're the one that guides my heart

Lord, I need You, oh I need You Every hour I need You My one defense, my righteousness Oh God, how I need You”

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fmdjace · 2 years

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❝ had enough, gonna take my cut and put you in the ground

interview related jihoon’s opinion of crowned pt.1 date: june 30th 2022 song choice: can’t slow me down word count: 414 notes:

why do you think the song you’re performing is your group’s “representative song”?

in reality, he hated it. fighter was a good song, but as their representative song? the question makes him scrunch his nose a bit, shoulder shrugging. he wants to be polite about it, but alas. “i think we had better songs that could be our representative song. fighter did get a lot of love, but i think some of our other title tracks, like cherry bomb and kick it would have been better options.”

what are you thoughts on the stage concept for your group?

complicated. so complicated. “i think its interesting. we have never had such complex performances before, so i think it really allows us to show a different side of catalyst, as a group and performers. i really hope the audience enjoys the stage, we worked really hard to make it interesting.”

how have rehearsals been going for your stage? what challenges have there been?

there are so many, jihoon can’t count them. so many queues, so many back up dancers, levels, details. just thinking about the past few weeks of preparations are enough to give him a headache. “i think having to work around the set has been the biggest challenge. rehearsals are going well, we are very hardworking perfectionists, so we plan to deliver the best performance possible.”

which group do you see as your biggest threat for the win in the competition?

“i think its really obvious, isn’t it?“ he asks, a grin pulling on his lips as he looks around the studio “we have big names like polaris and selene coming on, titan as well, i am sure they will not disappoint at all and will make sure to turn the competition up a notch.“

what does your group have that gives you a unique claim to winning the show?

a hard question, to which jihoon has no answer. so he has to think for a short while. there was really nothing original that he could actually claim about catalyst. “we’ve done a lot of concepts in the past, we have this cool and intense concepts before, so we plan on bringing exactly that to the table for crowned.”

what do you hope to show through crowned?

another hard question, and he has to hold in his sigh, but the pout is evident on his lips as he thinks. “to show the public that catalyst’s hard work and dedication will not waver anytime soon.”

#famedcrowned1 #◤✩ ░ interview◢#◤✩ ░ queue◢

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thefoxboxrocks · 3 years

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BRENNAN PC WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!!

#good for him #i’m so excited i’m shaking ahhhhhh #hogwarts style!!!!!! yeaaaaahh!!!!!!#june 30th can’t come soon enough #dimension 20 #brennan lee mulligan

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tennessoui · 2 years

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kit's silly little hiatus

hey besties, don’t panic. it’s just for a little bit.

i’m facing like…a pretty busy next few....days? weeks?. with a lot of obligations and annoyances and things that meet in the middle. but some moments that promise to be really great too. and i think it’d be best for me, for y’all, for irl people, if i took a small break from tumblr to give everything the attention it deserves. i’m temporarily stepping up hours at work to save for a new laptop + i recently got a promotion with zero pay raise but basically i’m the singular task manager for over 200 people so that’s a big oof. i’ve got family and friends in and out of town starting soon, and the weather is supposed to get really, really nice really, really soon. and i absolutely love the sun.

so: cut to the point, what does this mean?

i figured i can probably guess some important faqs, so here’s my best shot:

This feels like a pretty serious announcement for something that’s supposed to be small.

i know. i figured it’s better safe than sorry. i get that when someone just stops posting for a bit, it’s easy to get worried. That’s the crux of internet friendships/internet people. sometimes you don’t know what happens to blogs and that is understandably worrying. i don’t want y’all to be worried. so even if it’s just the one person who would have noticed, i’m making a very long post about it. just in case.

People who take hiatuses never come back. Look at ao3 abandoned stories.

i understand the confusion. but i am not one direction.

Is this not fun anymore?

no, it absolutely is fun. it is so fun i have forgotten how to have other hobbies. last week i told my friend i couldn’t go to a concert with him because i was in for the night on tumblr.

When will you start your hiatus?

april 4th. i know, i’m jumping the gun on this """announcement""" a bit, but i also didn’t want to just spring this on you. i’m going to spend the rest of the week setting up a tiny queue (maybe) and answering asks/writing the tiny prompt fills i’ve been putting off since june 2021 (definitely).

When will you come back?

may 5th. it really will just be a month.

What are you going to do during your hiatus?

maybe start watching all those movies on my list that y’all have been telling me for like a year i need to see?

Most people can watch movies and have a tumblr/time for tumblr.

it’s a LONG list.

What are you seriously going to be doing?

i don’t know! isn’t that exciting?? maybe i’ll learn to parallel park. maybe i’ll finally buy another laptop. maybe i’ll get back into cooking, assuming i can budget well enough to do something nice. i know i’ll write. i can’t wait to write. i have one commission i will probably finish and post sometime during april because that’s an important commitment i won’t forget.

Will you keep your commissions open? Your ask box?

so. commissions, yes. i can’t…really afford anything else at the moment. as for my ask box, i don’t think so. i don’t want anyone who doesn’t catch this hiatus message to send me an ask and then think i’m ignoring them. it’d be better just to close it, so i think i will on april 4th.

You could just pin this hiatus message.

i could. i don’t want to. i think people think of blogs on hiatus as dead blogs, not worth the follow. and it’s so very vain of me, but i would like to think come may 5th, i’ll be just as worthy of a follow as i am now (which, you know. you decide what that worth is). but a pinned hiatus message? imo it scares people away.

So what happens now?

it’s march 30th. i’ve given myself five days ish to get everything set up, and in that time i’m just gonna be kit as normal. if you wanna send me an ask, please do! or a reply on a post! or a fic comment! i absolutely do not want to leave anyone hanging or waiting, and i absolutely don’t want you to…think i won’t miss you or this blog. it’s just a month because a month is all i can think i can do because i’ll miss y’all so much. but this is important i think. for me to do.

see you may fifth, bless 💙

#kit to kit #important kit posts #why am i using a tag i have never used before idk #anyway #kit's silly little hiatus #< that will be the tag i will use if you have an ask about this #i promise i love u 💙💙💙💙💙 like soooo much #i just need to figure out what else i love a lot? if that makes sense?#paired with the new time constraints and the ever present ever ahhhh money constraints #(i expect to do 50/55 hrs a week starting next week)#means for a bit i need to give something up #and it's this #FOR NOW #ill be so sad if everyone unfollows me/thinks im a dead blog tho tbh #and tbh knowing how sad i'll be is a good indication it might be time to take a step back #etc etc #anyway it's next monday i know it's wild i'm telling you now #but i've been thinking about this for a while #and i don't want to miss any of the kenobi show or the lead up to the kenobi show #but i also don't want to miss spring time #(though i still dont like room temperature outside weaather)#so #compromise

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niksfics · 3 years

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↬ FATE

↬ PAIRINGS: kenma x f!reader (side aka rebound mention) miya atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: a whole lotta angst, breakup, it’s an online relationship, kenma is cold and hurts ur feelings

↬ SUMMARY: your relationship with kenma really had felt like the last one. He was it, turns out he didn’t have similar feelings.

↬ A/N: alright loves!! This isn’t proofread at all it’s 2 in the morning I’ll edit when I wake up, butttt Thanks to my lovely ex girlfriend you are now being graced with this steaming pile of trash. (Lovely was not meant sarcastically at all she is in fact very lovely.) Ngl almost, if not all of this story is about my relationship with my ex gf. This is how I cope people. ￫ It’s taken me awhile to actually be able to right something that’s why things kinda stopped. Tbh after she broke up with me it’s been very hard for me to write so hopefully this helps! And I hope you enjoy!! I would also just like to say if it feels a lil weird it’s cause these are things I’ve actually written in my notes I tweaked it a little to fit the story but it’s straight from the source 😩

WC | 2.5K

You sighed as you opened your notes app. Your eyes scanning over all of the little facts and quirks he had told you about himself. All the stuff you’d wanted to remember. The stuff that had seemed so important to you before. Now it was meaningless, almost like facts about a stranger. Almost as if you hadn’t spent four months learning about and growing with eachother.

You scrolled down a little bit right under, how his favorite marvel character is Spider-Man and you chewed on your lip. Your fingers hovering above the keyboard on your phone. You looked over the facts again. The things he dislikes and the stuff he adores, the things he likes to collect to the way he feels passionately about a certain topic. You begin to type.

Friday June 25th 2022 12:22 Am

I cried again tonight, because I still love you. It’s been a month and six days since we broke up. It feels like there’s a hole in my chest. You seem to be doing fine though, so I’m happy for you! This is the second time since we’ve broken up that I’ve felt actual physical emotional pain in my chest. Remember when I told you how bad it hurt after we broke up? Remember how you didn’t even ask if I was ok? Didn’t even bother to answer. Do you remember that? I remember. I’ve thought about it every day since. I remember it being so bad I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. Wasn’t until I’d called tetsu crying that he’d told me it was just emotional and I should probably try to relax.

I read through our old messages. I’ve never wanted something back so bad. Never wanted to beg anyone to stay till now. I wish you loved me like I love you. I wish I hadn’t grown so attached, wish I hadn’t fallen so deeply into love with you. I wish it wasn’t my fault that we broke up. I wish I wasn’t so fucking scared. I wish I was fearless. Wish I could rise into love bravely. I wish I was brave when it came to you. I keep telling myself it was me. It was me not you. You didn’t love me anymore. You don’t love me anymore and you’re just too nice to say that. So you told me in the only way I could handle. Except you hadn’t used the words you should have. You got bored. We both know it’s true. You were bored of it, and I don’t blame you. I know we’ll never talk again, and part of me is so glad. Another part of me forces myself to read through all our messages though. I wish I could just tell you one last time. I love you.

You sighed saving it before closing out of it. Tears you hadn’t known were falling finally became known to you as they streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes puffy as you wet your lips, the salt of them coating your tongue. You were bitter and so were your tears. I briefly wondered what he was doing right now. Probably playing a video game. You knew his schedule all to well by now. Probably testing out a new game for his stream.

A new set of fresh tears fell as you remembered how you used to call him right before he went on. Being lulled to sleep by his occasionally curses and the clicking oh his controller or his keyboard.

You never expected things to end this way. You really thought he was the last one. Yes it had only been four months, but the way he made you feel. The way that it had felt. It had felt final, and you’d been friends before you even started dating.

You sniffle moving yourself to the kitchen to poor yourself a glass of water as you remembered how nervous you were when you first texted him. You had acumulated quite the crush on him back in high school. As Inarazaki’s manager you were required to go to the games, and even after your team lost you had stuck around. Watched him play and cheered him on. Two weeks later you had begun to text, as friends of course. It wasn’t until four months ago that you’d gotten together.

Your anniversary was only two days prior to your break up. You both had never been one to even care about that stuff. You had agreed early on in the relationship that we wouldn’t do anything due to the distance, and the business of our schedules. You were never one for remembering things like anniversaries anyways.

He really did feel like the one. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes you can just feel it. Like, you know that feeling you get when you know something is off or you know for sure something is about to happen even without being told it’s going to. That’s what it felt like to be with kozume kenma.

You thought you knew, you thought this time, this time its for real. You thought it was finally safe to say, that he was the one. You both had even admitted to looking for each others initials in those stupid soulmate tik tok videos.

You were finally in a mature relationship with someone you could talk about anything to. You had gotten so caught up in it, that you didn’t even see the end creeping up on you.

↝

You’d finally gained the courage to text him again. Unfortunately it was in a drunken daze. Your hands shaking as you fumbled with your phone typing things you’d come to regret in the morning. You’d sent him a series of texts telling him how much you missed him, how you didn’t understand how he was so okay. You had been a wreck that night. One of your friends puking in her toilet as you cried. You were happy of course that he was doing so well, but you’d been a wreck for so long and he hadn’t even changed. You told him you wished you could be okay.

When you’d awoken the next morning hair knotted in a complete mess and wiping drool from your chin your heart had sunk even lower. His response was cold. You knew that kenma could be cold. You knew that it was just who he was, but this particular text had felt so unfeeling and unfamiliar, it was as if he hadn’t even sent it himself. He had only ever talked like this to you once and that was when you first became friends all those years ago.

Kozume ❤️

Hey, it’s okay. And yeah you see what I choose to put up. I could be better. But I choose to stay optimistic and busy. Sorry that things are this way.

You had never seen so many periods in a text before. He only used grammar like that when he was peeved, and maybe you were wrong, maybe he’d done that on purpose, but it had hurt so bad. It had caused an ache so deep in your chest that you weren’t sure if you’d ever even dated him at all.

Yeah.

It was the only thing you could bring yourself to respond back with. How were you supposed to respond to that? You’d stared at it for so long and after you’d sent it you wished you had said more. Wished you would’ve said something more insightful than a simple, heartbroken, “yeah.”

Not too long later there was another ping and you held your breath. His name briefly appearing across your screen.

Yeah. I could be better. But I hope you do well soon. I’m sorry that I can’t really do much to help out

And of course you did the only thing you could do. Deflect. Pretend like you hadn’t said what you’d said not even fourteen hours ago.

No it’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry that you could be doing better.

He left you on seen. You knew you sounded like an asshole. At least to you, you felt like an asshole. Why couldn’t you have come up with something else. Why couldn’t you tell him the truth. Tell him how you felt. Tell him that you didn’t think you should be broken up anymore. That the month long cruel joke was over and you were ready to spend your nights falling asleep to him playing video games again. You didn’t though, and you never would. You’re not brave enough, too prideful to even try.

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat as you realized even if you did beg him. Begged him to take you back. Tell him that you still love him. You were too late, and you just couldn’t be selfish when it comes to him. He is over you and it was so plainly obvious. You know that deep down. Know that he’s moved on, and it kills you inside. So you did the only thing you could do. Try and put it into words.

So as you lay in bed the warm body you let occupy your space sound asleep beside you, his toned blonde hair tousled slightly and you sighed. Finally away from the shenanigans of your friends you took a deep breath before you closed your eyes.

You opened up your notes app again and scrolled past the last entry. You swallowed again as you blinked the tears out of your eyes. Your thumbs beginning to move before you even gave them permission.

Wednesday June 30th 2022 1:39 Am

Here I am again. Stuck. Stuck in the same place I’ve been for so long. You know, I write so beautifully when I’m broken. I’m most of my best work is written when I’m being torn apart. But I just, I can’t seem to find the words. I can’t seem to put it into a document and turn out little story into a different story to cope. Can’t seem to write it out. Can’t seem to move on.

I hovered over the unfollow button on your page today, to keep myself from scrolling through your things again. To keep myself from getting hurt. So I don’t have to be reminded. I want to delete it. Delete where we officially met. On a chat through my screen. I wanna wipe the messages clean. And I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. But I can’t.

I want to delete our conversations. The hours long talks we had, but then, what happens afterwards? What keeps the memories alive. I’d never been so in love with someone before. I’ve never actually…. Been in love before. I thought I’d been in love, but it didn’t feel like that, and losing them never hurt like this. Losing someone has never hurt this bad before.

I’ve never felt the emptiness you left so deep in my very being with anyone I’ve ever met before. I can’t seem to pull myself together. And it’s pathetic I know. It’s pathetic that I’m still here. In the same place I was a month ago. It’s about to be two months we’ve haven’t been together. I’m hurting. Hurting so bad. It’s painful to look at you.

I haven’t deleted the photos even though I probably should. They’re still tucked away in an album in my camera roll labeled “us <3” the one one I made specially just for you. The way I’d been so excited when I was finally ready to tell my friends. I even have this stupid notes folder from when we were dating where I wrote all the little things about you that I never wanted to forget. I find you so endearing. Everything you do. I just couldn’t help but right it down to keep it safe so it never leaves my mind. So that I never forget. But now, forgetting is all I want to do.

I never thought there’d be a time in my life where I was more emotionally stunted that I normally. So stunted I can’t even put this, our split up, into words. Make it something entertaining for somebody else to read. Write a book about it. My publicist keeps asking when the sequel for my book will be done. I don’t know if it’ll ever be finished. I can’t do the one thing I’ve always been good at. I’m crying as I write this.

And I wish it would just end here in this little notes app. Wish the love would die in here. I always think I’m over you and then I see you again, and nowadays your everywhere. A very big hit and I’m happy for you and your success, but seeing you makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

I think I’m over you until I play that stupid fucking game that causes me to scream at my phone, or my laptop in frustration, but I just can’t seem to delete it because I know it’s something that you love. That show we used to talk about. I know you know which one, I can’t seem to watch it without thinking of what was. You’ve ruined it forever cause now it only reminds me of you. I know you’ll never see this, but I like to imagine you can. That my time for closure has somehow come.

When you told me you were sorry that things were this way, it was a real slap in the face. It stopped my false hope. My wishing. It all came to a halt. I’m glad. Glad that you’re happier. That you’re better without me. But god, now I’m so fucked up and I can’t even talk to you.

You were the only person I had left. The only one who understood me. And now you’re gone. You took a part of me with you that night. A part that I’ll never get back. I should’ve known that you would leave. I’ve never been able to get someone to stay for longer than three to four months.

I thought I could let my guard down though. I thought we were in the clear. I’d thought finally. Finally someone is gonna stay. I thought you were my person. I still think that to this day. I thought we were gonna make it. And now I’m with this guy I don’t even like. He’s not you, he doesn’t act like you. He doesn’t like video games like you do.

He doesn’t talk to me like you do. Like you did. But you know how it ended I don’t need to put it here. Unfortunately I’ll always love you even if you don’t love me. This is so scattered, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.

With that you closed the app and put down your phone. Plugging in it and as it dinged miya atsumu rolled over in his sleep. He reached for you his hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his strong body.

His gravely voice whispering through sleep, “mmm finally decided to come to bed?” You hum moving an arm under on of his to wrap around his thin waist. “Mhm, thought you might need the company.” You began to draw little shapes and letters against his back as he chuckled, “oh yea? How thoughtful of you princess.”

Suddenly it was quiet and your closed eyes opened to his wide brown ones, his eyebrows furrowing .

“Did you just spell kozume on my back?”

154 notes · View notes

jeonjeonggukenergy · 4 years

Text

May 31

summary ~ on the last day of your senior year living together, you're still fighting your feelings for your roommate jungkook. before you can fully move out and move on, he makes a pretty significant scheduling error. #and there was only one bed

genre ~ fluff, smut / roommate!au, college!au, bit of crack/fake texts

wordcount ~ 5k

warnings ~ smut (18+), blowjob (oral: m receiving), nipple play, marking, penetrative sex, cumplay (sort of oral: f receiving), jungkook just goes hard as expected BUT IT'S SOFT? this is just super cheesy and cute with some hopefully hot smut

a/n ~ surprise oneshot! and they were roommates? and there was only one bed? this is all my fave tropes wrapped into one, i had a ton of fun writing it and i hope yall enjoy :')

~ read on ao3 ~

You walked up to your apartment door just as a boy from the class below you walked out—with a wave, a "see ya, Jungkook!" and what appeared to be the last piece of your roommate's bedframe.

"You...sold...your bed?"

"Well, sort of. I borrowed it from that guy for the year while he was studying abroad. So now I'm giving it back to him. Since I'm staying in the city for my new job, though, I wish I could have just kept it. Now I have to actually buy one," Jungkook lamented.

"I mean, okay, but why didn't you just wait to give it back tomorrow when we move out?"

"What do you mean? Today's move-out day. I was just waiting for my brother to get off work to help get all my stuff out of here. I was kind of wondering why you hadn't packed up more, but you've always waited til the last minute to pack for things." Jungkook grinned, recalling your friend group’s spring break trip.

Momentarily distracted by his dig, you defended yourself quickly before returning to the subject. "Hey! At least I always get it done in the end. Better than packing too soon and accidentally giving away your bed a day early. Your new lease doesn't let you move in til the first day of June, right? It's May 31st."

Jungkook's pretty doe eyes went comically wide. "31st? There is no May 31st. It's June 1st. Because yesterday was May 30th. Right?"

"Oh my gosh. You're joking. You have to be joking," you tried not to laugh as you pulled up your Google calendar. "Here, look," you turned the phone around to him. "May 31st."

"Shit," he breathed, pushing the soft shock of hair back from his frozen face. "What did I do?"

You took your phone back, already distracted by your texts as you reassured him. "Don't worry, it’s funny but it's no big deal, I'm just messing with you. You can sleep on the couch for tonight, you'll be fine."

Jungkook grabbed your wrist, making you look up from your screen in surprise. In sitcom-esque slow motion, he swiveled his head sideways and you followed his gaze to the living room, realizing—

"The couch was his too. I gave it back."

"Oh my gosh," you muttered, shaking your head down with a smile. Feeling a little braver on your last full day as roommates, you finally gave Jungkook the warning that had almost slipped out plenty of times over the year. "Jungkookie...you're really lucky you're so cute. Otherwise you wouldn't get away with nearly as much as you do in life.”

"I..." Jungkook dropped your hand, grinning at the usual nickname but unsure how to take the half-compliment. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I forgot about a whole day, I usually double-check my calendar. I can just take the floor for tonight, I guess? I'll go unpack my blanket again. Sorry, I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"No, no," you cut him off—against your better judgment, but determined to ignore your superficial attraction to him to be a good friend and roommate. "Don't be ridiculous, just sleep in my bed. I mean, if that's okay with you of course. It'll definitely be more comfortable than the floor." He nodded rapidly, eyes still wide but mouth perfectly flatlined like an emoji. "Okay then. No worries. Let's eat, I got us takeout for our last night but it's getting cold."

At the mention of food, Jungkook made a beeline for the plastic bags hanging on your arm, and soon you were back to normal—well, sort of. Eating slightly reheated noodles on the living room floor instead of the couch, you giggled over one last Friday night K-drama episode together and reminisced over all the best memories from your year as roommates. You missed the coziness of your couch more than you thought you might, or maybe you just missed the snuggles you'd shared in its corner on countless nights like this one.

Jungkook had always been cutely touchy with his close friends, but it had taken a while for you two to get comfortable. You had to admit you'd gotten spooked when you first met him, disappearing behind your door after a quick "hi, nice to meet you!" and furiously texting your friend and former roommate Jin in distress. He hadn't warned you the new guy he'd found for your apartment was, in your own words, "stupid hot." Jin had laughed you off, saying it hadn't even occurred to him because he just saw his former soccer teammate "JK" as a kid. To be fair, it probably truly had slipped Jin's notice—he barely believed anyone who told him how objectively attractive he was. But Jin was a good enough friend to both you and Jungkook that he took charge of dissolving the initial tension, immediately bringing y'all over for a "double housewarming" dinner party at the cute new place he now shared with his fiancée. (Thank goodness he'd finally listened when you'd told him she found him attractive. Even if it cost you a roommate of two years, you'd happily take credit for that relationship.) That first invitation had felt suspiciously like a double date, but Jin's cooking and hosting skills broke the ice nicely enough. After that, it only took a few more dinners and video game nights to initiate you into their casual rhythm of hair ruffles and backhugs.

Currently, Jungkook had his arm around you to offer a neck rub while you rested your head on his shoulder, hoping he couldn't feel your pulse beneath his fingers. "Ah, you're going so hard," you half-protested.

"I always go this hard! You never complain," he shot back with a teasing grin.

"Nah, come on, you're gonna leave a mark or something. At least check," you lifted your head, sweeping your hair aside. "Is it all red like Jin always gets?" you joked.

Facing away, you had no way of seeing it, but Jungkook's face had gone red too. "Uh...no, it's fine, it's fine." He glanced back to the TV and turned it off, noticing the episode had ended. "Sorry though, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm gonna go shower and get ready for bed."

"Hey, no, it's okay!" You tugged on his shirt as he got up, wanting to reverse whatever you’d done to make him seem so uneasy. "I'm not actually hurt or mad at you or anything, I was just messing with you. Again." You smiled lightheartedly, and his face broke into a soft nose-scrunch at the reassurance.

"Okay, good. I was gonna shower anyway though—so uh, see you in bed I guess?"

"Yeah same, see you in bed," you laughed, trying to maintain the ease in your facial expression until the moment he left the room, upon which your internal monologue immediately turned into "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

You couldn't help thinking about Jungkook in the shower. And not even in the usual way that you couldn't help thinking about Jungkook, in the shower. As much as you hated to admit it, Jin was probably right about your feelings for your sweet, dorky roommate going beyond just physical attraction, or friendship. Jungkook was kind, respectful, smart, athletic, artistic, funny, really hot, and you already got along well enough to live together: he really was the ultimate boyfriend material. You were both pleasantly moderate introverts. He shared your same favorite dramas and brand of instant ramen. Even your parents loved him—wait, did they want you to date him too? A strict follower of every social rule that dictated not dating roommates, coworkers, best friends' exes, exes' best friends, etc., you had simply never allowed yourself to consider the possibility until now. You played back your conversations with Jin over the year and considered the sheer amount of the funny stories you told him, or situations where you asked for his advice, or surprises he'd helped you plan, or simply glowing, grinning descriptions of something new you'd noticed, that all ended up being about Jungkook. He'd never even had to bring him up. Damn Jin for being such a good listener.

Almost an hour later, when you were already in bed, Jungkook politely knocked on your door. He always took long showers, and tonight you couldn't decide whether you were thankful for the extra time to prepare yourself or even more stressed from the extra time to overthink.

"Come in," you called quietly. Jungkook shuffled into your room, toe-socked feet making their way to the side of the bed you'd rolled over to clear for him. Cautious, he climbed in, and you stayed safely facing away from each other for a while, winding down for the night on your phones like you both normally did in your separate rooms. So spaced out that you couldn't even detect Jungkook's additional body heat, you felt the chill of the air conditioning instead and kept adjusting the blankets to try and achieve maximum insulation.

Jungkook eventually spoke his first words since he'd entered. "Am I hogging the covers? I'm sorry."

"Oh no, you're totally fine, if anything I'm taking up more than you. I'm just always cold, so I usually sleep in, like, a three-layered burrito. But it's fine! Really, no worries."

To your surprise, Jungkook rolled over, propping his head up on an elbow to look at you. "Well...I...we could..." he started, swallowing when you turned to face him. "I mean, you could wear socks! Like I do!" He pulled a foot out from under the sheets and presented it to your face, cackling.

"I think the fuck not," you snorted, shoving the foot away and falling slightly on top of him as you both lost your balance in giggles. "You couldn't catch me dead in your weird-ass socks."

"That's the secret, though!" he insisted. "That's how I stay warm."

"You are warm," you realized. One of your hands had ended up on his chest, the other arm tucked in the side of his torso, and both were burning up. You supposed you'd settled into similar positions on the couch before but you'd never noticed just how much of a human furnace he was. Maybe it was because he hadn't been wearing his toe socks.

Neither of you said anything for a second. You could feel his heart beating at a slightly elevated but respectable rate, and while you wanted to pull away, if only to spare your own nerves, you also...didn't. You were too scared to stay like this, but too scared to move too. Jungkook seemed similarly stuck, blinking down at your hand on his chest, but eventually he unfroze to reach over it and drag you fully onto him by your shoulder. You simply let him handle you, not making any additional moves but silently enjoying the heat he seemed happy to provide. His hand spread over your back to press your torso to his, radiating heat through your thin t-shirt, and you suddenly grew self-conscious that you were braless. But of course you were, who wears a bra to bed? You were fine. This was fine.

"Are you okay? Is this warmer?" Jungkook asked, as gentle as his touch.

"Yeah! Yeah, this is fine," you responded, the answer muffled by your mouth's placement all too near to his neck. You could sense the heat coming off his skin from there too, but it contrasted with the mild coolness of his still-damp hair. It smelled faintly of floral shampoo, and the scent suddenly amplified all your nerves as the implications of how close he was hit you from head to toe. Even the soft fuzz of his socks brushed your bare legs, now intertwined with his. You weren't exactly small, but the warm solidity of Jungkook’s body under you made you feel fully enveloped by him. Though he'd shared a fair amount of skin with you through the course of your friendship, the intimacy of sharing your bed took every touch to another level, and being pressed so flush against him felt unbearable. You couldn't possibly process a whole year of pure pent-up physical attraction right now, much less any other feelings that may or may not have grown with it, especially when you knew he had no reason to feel anything back. And you were roommates. You just needed to sleep it off and then you could both move, and move on, in peace. Hopefully the odds of ever being stuck in a bed with Jungkook again would go way down after tonight.

Not bothering to get up and turn off the weak string of lights above your headboard, you just slowed your breathing and attempted to drift off to sleep. Pretending the deeper breaths weren't so you could get a better whiff of his soft, flowery hair, you laid still for several minutes, successfully ignoring your body's instinctual response.

Eventually, though, it became impossible to ignore his.

Jungkook wasn't that hard, okay. He wasn't a teenager; he thought he could control himself around you enough by now that he could just enjoy this last night without giving anything away. He almost felt bad when you invited him into your bed, sensing your reluctance and knowing it was his own fault that you'd had to offer in the first place. But he knew you wouldn't have asked if you weren't truly okay with it, and that confidence gave him the tiniest swell of hope that maybe you were a little bit more than okay. While Jin refused to give away any real insight into what you thought of him, he'd been teasing Jungkook for six months about his crush on you, eventually convincing him to try making your friendship into more once you both graduated and moved on to different roommates. He had just been planning to bring it up in a much better way than the semi that you could definitely feel against your thigh. You had both been silent about it for over five minutes, though, long enough that he could cross his fingers that you were already asleep. He probably didn't have to worry about a thing.

"Jungkook?"

You had finally worked up the courage to stop pretending you’d fallen asleep. You felt him freeze up under you—the defined abs that covered his tiny waist tightening, solid chest muscles contracting, and his thighs tensing to trap yours between them, all at once. You froze too, attempting to speak again but no sound coming out.

"_____, guess what!" he blurted to cut you off. Which was good, because you had absolutely zero plans for what to say after that.

"What?"

"It's after midnight," he said, jolting up to point to the digital clock on your side table. "It really is the first day of June now. So, according to the lease, we're officially no longer roommates. Crazy!"

"I mean...yeah," you affirmed, confused. "But also, we're literally sharing a bed right now. In the same room. So until that changes, I would probably still call us roommates." A little too amused by your own clapback, you raised your head to peek into his wide eyes and smiled, a big one that scrunched up your whole face.

And his dick twitched. Yeah, there was no way you could not notice that.

Before you could even finish your gasp, Jungkook spoke again. "I like you. I'm sorry. I like you. I didn't want to say anything while we were roommates because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, and I definitely didn't mean for this to happen, I'm sorry. You can totally not like me back and it's fine. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to tell you like this, I just...I like you. A lot."

Shocked into silence for a second, but galvanized by his unnecessary apology, you responded without thinking for once. "Don't say sorry. You don't need to apologize, it's okay. Oh my gosh, I had no idea. I really had no idea. I, uh, I think I like you too? Shit, okay, I thought you were really hot from, like, the day you moved in, and eventually it became more than that but I didn't want to make anything weird because, yeah, we’re roommates, so I pretty much tried to ignore it all year. But then Jin made me realize that you're basically all I think about—or talk to him about, shit, I must have been so annoying—"

"Jin? JIN?" Jungkook grabbed his phone from the side table and wasted no time in blasting off the last meme in his camera roll. You propped yourself up in his arms, both giggling at Jin's quick shot back.

Looking at him now, a big cheesy smile on his face even as he stirred under you, still a little hard, you nodded as if fully understanding for the first time. "Yeah. I like you too."

As he set down his phone and brought his hand around your back again, his smile faded into a smirk. "Wow."

"Yeah...wow," you echoed, nervous and awkward again. You felt your face grow warmer as he looked slowly to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?"

Blinking, you shifted your weight back down onto him, bringing your face close enough to hear his intake of breath as your hips brushed his dick. "Can you do more than that?"

"Fuck," he whispered. "Yes."

Jungkook snaked one arm down to your ass and one arm up your back to the nape of your neck, holding you close as he kissed you for the first time, fiercely. He didn't waste another minute hesitating now that he knew you had both wanted this for a year. Passionate but not aggressive, he teased the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue and you instantly opened for him, gliding your tongue over his smooth bottom lip as his flicked up to the sensitive roof of your mouth. Squeezing your ass to guide your hips down in small circles against him, he tensed his other hand slightly into your hair and you moaned at the competing sensations. Jungkook broke away to absorb every beautiful noise you made as he discovered you, heavy eyes finding yours before he rolled over to pin you to the bed and bury his face in your neck. He smiled into your skin when you moaned again from the satisfying pressure of his full body over you, and carefully rolled his hips into yours as he covered your jawline in tender kisses. One of your hands carved through his thick hair. As you dug the fingertips of your other hand into his prominent back muscles, you suddenly realized you were both still fully clothed and you really, really did not want him to be. Tugging his t-shirt over his head and throwing it aside, you paused before letting him do the same.

"Wait. Take off your socks. I can't believe I didn't make you do that before any of this. I really just almost had sex with someone wearing toe socks. Kill me," you whined over-dramatically.

"Come on, that would have been hilarious. What a first-time story!" Jungkook said earnestly. "Sure you don't want me to leave them on?"

"Please take them off. Please," you only half-jokingly begged.

"You wanna take 'em off for me?" he teased, wiggling a foot in front of you.

"Fine, whatever it takes!" You flung his sock across the room, reaching for his other foot below the covers to get rid of the other one.

He fell on top of you, giggling again, but as soon as you shut him up with your lips he snapped out of it, eagerly deepening the kiss while his warm hands traveled up under your shirt. Smoothing over the curves of your torso and reaching up to firmly grasp your breasts, he moaned into you and you whined back as his thumbs brushed your hardening nipples. He was incredibly physically precise, each movement graceful yet sharp and intentional. You felt deeply lucky to experience this dimension of him, the most perfect and natural expression of his contradictory nature. Equally loving, giving, overachieving, and sensual—with a side of weird socks and Gen Z meme literacy—that was your Jungkook.

"I can't believe this is happening," Jungkook murmured as he pulled your shirt over your head. "I can't believe I get to see you like this. You're so—ohhh." He trailed off, taking in the fully naked glory of your top half for the first time. His head immediately ducked to your chest, sucking dark bruises into the low-lit hollow of your breasts. You squirmed under his hold on the dip of your waist, whimpering, but the grip of your hands in his shiny black locks let him know you didn't really want him to stop. Grinding against his now rock-hard dick, you eventually couldn't take the friction anymore and reached down to try and pull off both of your pajama pants at the same time. Jungkook just laughed.

He paused to help you out, rolling off of you to take care of his own sweatpants, and you kicked off your pajama pants and underwear as Jungkook slowly let his erection spring free above his waistband. You'd never thought a dick could be pretty before, but it honestly made sense that his would be as perfect as the rest of his body. "Fuck," you swore softly, mouth watering. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, and you scrambled to lick the tip as if on instinct, eliciting a much more emphatic "Fuuuuuck!" from him. He spread his legs to let you crawl between them, holding tenuous eye contact as you smirked at his sensitivity. Teasing a single finger up his shaft, you followed its path with your tongue and he let out a deliciously high, shaky moan.

"Please," Jungkook choked out when you approached him, lips pursed. He praised you breathlessly as you tightened a hand around his length and began to sink down. "You feel so good already. Fuck." Closing your eyes, you hollowed your cheeks to accommodate his generous size and dipped your head, sucking him in as far as you could go. He was so responsive, you learned what he liked quickly, and savored each whimper as you stroked his balls gently or swirled your tongue over his slit. You licked all the way from his head to the base and he cried out. Bringing a hand to the back of your head, he didn't quite hold you down, leaving enough slack for you to move if you wanted to, but you submitted to his touch and stayed a second with nearly his whole length in your mouth. And then you swallowed.

"Stop! Stop, please, or I'll cum." He pulled you off by your hair, bringing your forehead to his as you realigned your bodies. "You're so good for me," he professed warmly. "I wanna be good for you."

"Then fuck me," you surprised him by answering bluntly. "Please, I want you so bad."

Jungkook groaned, arching his hips up against you and coating his dick in your wetness. Bringing himself back under control, he pinned you under his thighs and reached down to open you up with a finger. You felt so much more relaxed with him than you had with any previous boyfriend or hookup, and he slid into your entrance fairly easily. You moaned right away when he brushed his thumb over your clit, and he responded with a muttered "Fuck it, you’re so wet already," pulling his finger out and stroking it up your folds as he lined up.

"You're on the pill, right? For your periods," he confirmed.

"Yeah, of course. You really think I'd let you hit it raw otherwise?" you shot back teasingly, trying to hide how touched you were that he remembered from a few months ago, when he'd driven you to pick up your prescription since your car was in the shop. That was your Jungkook.

"No," he said sheepishly. "You're smart."

You smiled up at him fondly, ruffling his hair. "You're smart too. And sweet. And hot. And your dick is enormous. It's kind of unfair."

"Unfair!" he protested. "How can I be unfair when you're perfect?"

"Perfect? Shut up," you dismissed him. "Now I know you're lying. You cheeseball."

"I'm not lying! You're perfect for me."

"Oh, so you're just a hopeless romantic. Where did that come from? What am I getting into?" you fussed playfully.

"Okay, we can make fun of each other later, like always, but right now can I just get into you?" Jungkook pleaded, directing you back to the task at hand.

"Oh my gosh. I can't believe this, you're worse than Jin. That was actually pretty impressive—" Surprised, you half-laughed, half-admired his wordplay, but were silenced by both his lips and his first few inches gliding into you.

Not yet breaking your kiss, just absorbing your moans into his mouth as he stretched you out, Jungkook eased himself all the way in. He drank in every detail of your body's response to keep careful track of your comfort. You tilted your ass up against him, absorbing the fullness of his big dick immersed in your walls, and he froze. "Pretty impressive?" he whispered.

"Jungkook," you breathed back in pure pleasure, too overwhelmed to sass back.

"Can I move?" he asked sweetly.

"Fuck. Yes."

Jungkook's brows narrowed as his eyes turned darker, and he snapped his hips up into yours once, twice, before setting a fierce pace that had you crying out with each stroke. He hadn't lost touch on your clit the whole time, and he began to circle his fingers to pleasure you there too, building up an almost unbearable tension throughout your whole body.

"Fuck...fuck! Jungkook!" you chanted. His eyes overcame their fluttering to meet yours. Jungkook stilled, then ground down on you in one big, slow, circle, drinking in your blissed-out expression.

"Harder?" he whispered. Jungkook loved a challenge.

"Sure, harder. Why the fuck not," you keened, high-pitched and desperate. He could split you in half at this point, leave you unable to walk for days, and you'd love it.

Jungkook made a small, delighted noise at your eagerness, kissing you quickly before flipping you over and positioning you on all fours, sheathing himself in you again. He ran his hands along your torso to clutch your breasts from underneath, holding himself up against you with solely the strength of his thighs and his core. Pulsing his hips into you carefully, slowly, to let you get used to the deeper angle, his fingertips skimmed your nipples tantalizingly, warming you further. He dropped one hand to prop himself up and slowly traveled the other down to your center. The lustful, elated exhale you let out when he rubbed your clit made him snap his hips forward, tilting you into the bed before you could engage your thighs to push back against his. Your continuous moans encouraged him that you were enjoying this just as much as him, loving how he remained fully attentive to your pleasure while pounding into you to pursue his own high. He fucked you like a high-intensity workout, pushing his unreasonably built body to its limits of speed and strength. You couldn't help wishing you'd taken him up on more of his offers to hit the gym together, but he seemed to get off on your breathlessness, wanting to give you his all and push you past your limits too. His fingers working as quickly as his hips, heat swelled up inside you, and when you felt sure that the tension in your core was about to break, you turned your head to cry out to him.

"Jungkookie, Jungkook—nhngh, I'm gonna cum."

"Ahhhh," he moaned. "Me too, _____. You feel so amazing, ahh—you're so perfect for me." The praise warmed your heart and your core, and soon you came around him with a long, drawn-out whine. He fucked you deep through each spasm, sending you into hot, heady overstimulation as he shuddered and emptied himself into you. When you finally collapsed under him, legs sore and shaking, he pulled out of you gently and lowered his lips to your lower lips with great care. Jungkook meticulously kissed from your swollen clit to your entrance, soft as a whisper, and you breathed out in overwhelmed bliss as his tongue emerged to tenderly nudge every drop of his cum into your opening. The gesture of aftercare, just as soothing as it was inexplicably hot, bloomed an affection within you that almost made your heart hurt. You rolled over, stretching your legs out, and he looked up at you from between them. His hair was a beautifully sweaty mess, and he smiled in sweet satisfaction with your wetness adorning his chin. That was your Jungkook.

"Don't go anywhere," he said softly, kneading your thighs with his hands.

"Well, I have to do the whole pee-after-sex thing. But after that, where would I go? There's only one bed in this apartment now," you couldn't help teasing.

"Hey! If I hadn't given away my bed, none of this would have happened," he complained cutely, pulling himself up to big-spoon you. “Just stay with me.”

"I will. I know," you murmured back. "And I'm so happy you did." You shifted back, closer against him, and he buried his face in your neck.

"You know, I was gonna miss being roommates so much," he said thoughtfully. "But I'm so okay with not being your roommate now if I get to be your...your..." He grinned into your shoulder, suddenly too shy to say it.

You turned to face him, holding his pink cheeks in both of your hands and kissing his nose. Knowing this would be just the first intimate moment of many made you both flush with an easy, sweet joy.

"My Jungkook. You're my Jungkook."

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

Last Kiss

Ship: Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Summary: A series of kisses.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, no happy ending, allusion to smut but nothing explicit.

A/N: I am going through a break-up and I'm probably projecting I'm so sorry

June 5th, 2012

"Spencer let me off!" You insist, undercutting your own demand by collapsing into a fit of giggles as he pushes you harder, spinning the tyre swing around faster.

"What do you think Henry, should we let Auntie ____ off?"

"Nope!" Henry almost cackles with glee, clapping his hands together in amusement.

"Spencer!" You protest, holding on tight as it whirls you around, "If you're going to make me stay on then you should both get on too!"

Spencer shares a conspiratorial glance with Henry, considering the proposition. Without answering you verbally, Spencer scoops Henry up, passing the boy to you. You loop your arms around him. He's resting tightly against your body when Spencer clambers on, getting himself settled into a position that ensures he won't fall off before kicking off the ground, hard.

"Weeeeeeee!" Henry cheers, purposely swinging himself as much as he can in your arms.

Spencer's face is an absolute picture: hair flopping everywhere, smile so wide you can barely see his eyes, lit up with happiness at the sight before him. Your hair is a complete state, sticking to your face, your stomach hurts from laughing but you're the very definition of joy. If he's honest, that's making him smile a lot more than the frankly quite nauseating swinging.

"Feel sick!" Henry announces after a moment or two more.

Spencer slams his feeet down on the ground, pulling you to a grinding halt.

"You okay bud?" You ask Henry, setting him down on the floor and holding on for a moment to make sure he gets his bearings.

"Yeah! Gonna go on the slide now!" He yells, darting off towards the slide only about two feet to your left.

You turn to watch him, feeling familiar arms wrap around your waist.

"You're going to pay for that later."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well then I guess I'd better make sure I have a lot to pay for," His fingers travel upwards from your waist, finding the spot where you're ticklish and starting to tickle you mercilessly.

"Spencer!"

"Yeah?"

Between indignant huffs of laughs, you manage to twist around to face him. He's grinning, incredibly pleased with himself.

"You think you're so funny don't you?"

"Henry agrees."

You shake your head, "IQ of 187 but it falls to about 60 when you're deciding whether or not to push your luck."

He smirks, "I've got a lot of it to push."

His hands meet the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. His eyes flicker over to Henry, who's happily waiting his turn for the slide. And then his breath is fanning over your face, warm with laughter and happiness and summer air. He kisses you, gently.

Your arms loop up to around his neck as you deepen it.

A fatal error.

His tickling restarts where he left off, drawing breathless laughs out of your mouth that spill against his lips, into his mouth.

"Spencer Reid!"

By the time you wriggle free, you're slightly flushed. He smiles, a dopey sincere smile that you don't ever get to see often enough.

"It's a good job I love you," You tell him.

"It's a good job I love you too."

Before you have time to consider a revenge attack of a similar nature, Henry decides it's time for Uncle Spencer to push him on the swing.

***

August 12th, 2012

Spencer is still sleeping when you wake up. His lips are slightly parted, allowing for a gentle sigh to accompany each exhale. He looks so content when he's like this: the stress he carries in his jaw practically melted. He doesnt snore, just lets out little breaths.

Your finger traces a line on his chest, spelling out ‘I love you’ in a tiny repetitive pattern.

You have the excuse of not being a profiler, so you don’t notice the change in his breath. How it stills, stutters slightly.

His eyes flutter open. He watches you, saying nothing: the pull of concentration in your brow, the way you watch your fingers, the way you mouth the words you’re spelling out as you do it.

“Hey,” His voice is gentle, trying not to startle you.

“Hi.”

His eyes are bleary with sleep. Blinking at you, he stretches his arm from behind his head, motioning for you to come closer. You nudge toward him, allowing him to embrace you. Closing your eyes, you fall into his touch. All there is his him. His scent, the wood-y scent of his cologne and the something that’s uniquely Spencer, the temperature of his body. You’ve joked before that he’s like your personal thermostat, he seems to always be either the perfect amount of warm or cold.

It’s easy to imagine the rest of your life in his arms. The contentment of this moment is one you’ll remember later, the next time he gets called away for a case.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice is quiet.

“You.”

You can feel the intake of his breath, “What about me?”

“How much I love you.”

He shifts. When you open your eyes, he’s staring down at you. His pupils are dilated. You don’t have to be a profiler to know what that means.

He squints sleepily at you, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile, “I was dreaming about how much I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He tilts downwards, kissing you. Your lips move quickly against one anothers, practically inhaling each other. You can’t get enough of him, hurriedly and clumsily and drunk on love, you kiss each other.

September 5th, 2012

"Spence,” You whine, his lips trailing along the underside of your jaw.

“Yeah?”

He’s made quick work of his pants but his shirt is still on. Lately it feels like he’s hardly around and it makes you want to consume him even more when he is. You drink in the sight of his thighs, practically trembling with want.

“Can I?” You ask, fiddling with his shirt buttons.

He nods. You pry them open, shedding him of the material so his bare abdomen is exposed to you. Fingers raking over his chest, you look up. His eyes are dark, plush lower lip catching between his teeth.

“Please.”

You’re not asking for anything in particular.

He kisses you hungrily, tongue slipping ionto your mouth, seemingly searching for something. Somewhere inside you, you get the sense that he can’t find it. There’s no time to dwell on it though, because the kiss is passionate, heated, and soon he has your mind taken off it as his mouth leaves yours and traverses its way down your body.

October 17th, 2012

You’ve barely finished dinner before he’s making his excuses to escape to his study.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

“I can leave, Spencer, honestly. If you have work you need to be doing.”

“No, I want you to be here,” He reassures you, voice cracking with sincerity.

Your gaze is searching, and he avoids it. He picks up the files, setting them on his desk. He heads over to the sink, refilling his glass with water and putting out a mug for the canteen of coffee he’s got brewing.

“It just doesn’t seem like it.”

He frowns.

“I don’t mean-” You cut yourself off, sighing and fiddling nervously with your hands, “I just, when you’re working I don’t feel like you want me to be here. You’ve been away all week and you’ve come back to do more work.”

“It’s not-”

He sighs, approaching you. His hands cover yours where they sit at your waist, shaking his head, “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve done anything wrong. Ever. You haven’t.”

“It’s just hard sometimes.”

He frowns, imploring you to continue.

“I feel like you’re closing yourself off. I know the job is hard just-”

“I’m not.”

“Spencer you didn’t hear me out.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence. He chews at his lip, clearly regretting having shutting you down so harshly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

He waits you out, tilting his head.

“I just don’t want to be smothering you.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel like I am. When I show up here and you’re doing work, it makes me feel like I’m smothering you.”

“You’re not.”

“Okay,” You fiddle nervously with the fork on your plate.

He crosses the room towards you, kissing you. It’s brisk, feels hurried, almost like his mind is somewhere else. But his hands on your hips, the securing of your body to his. The way his fingers knit through your hair, cementing you. The closeness is almost overwhelming. It feels like he has a point to prove.

When he pulls away, his mouth tips upwards into an almost smile.

“Let me finish this, and then we’ll watch a movie.”

It’s easier to allow him to pull away than fight it.

November 30th, 2012

“Can you not stay?”

He shakes his head, “I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”

Folding it into his arms, he turns away from you. His retreating form seems to be all you see lately; he always seems to have somewhere to go, and when he doesn’t he still sits like this. Hands folded across his chest, fists balled up under his armpits. He hardly meet your eyes.

“Spencer,” Your voice is soft, almost begging.

He relents, turning around. The remorse hangs in his half-smile. His curls look deflated, dry. He obviously hasn’t been conditioning them. He looks defeated. It scares you.

You want to ask, but the question catches in your throat.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been busy lately.”

“I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem it,” You regret the words as they leave your mouth, the look that washes over his face pains you: the pinch of defensiveness in his brow, the way his mouth sets into a thin line.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” There’s an edge to his voice, not cutting, curious and displeased.

“I mean things are different, Spencer. You’re closed off, you’re quiet, you seem like you’re not taking care of yourself. And you can speak to me. I understand if you don’t want to but you can come to me about anything, and you don’t, and you keep telling me you’re fine and I know you’re not and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The words spill out of your mouth. Your chest aches, your eyes glint with tears. You meet his gaze, and the remorse catches in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, crossing the room to you, “I’m sorry.”

He tucks you under his chin, allowing you to bury into his neck.

“I’ll stay,” He tells you, soft, “I’ll stay.”

You nod, allowing the tears to spill into the crook of his neck. He pulls back from you. He appraises you, taking note of you. He presses the tiniest of kisses to the corner of your mouth.

Your mouth twists, a grim imitation of a smile.

“Shall we order dinner?” He asks, placing the files down.

You can only nod.

December 9th, 2012

It's raining when he lands. Hotch offers to drop him off, it's past midnight and while the Metro is still running, there's no way he can take it at this hour. The case was brutal, and he's exhausted.

Your digital clock reflects 1:53am in red letters onto your wall.

Beside you, your phone buzzes.

1:53am - Spencer

Hi. I just got home. Let me know when you're awake, I think we need to have that conversation.

1:54am - You

I'm free if you want to call.

Your phone rings at 1:58.

“Hey,” You answer.

“Hi,” He says.

There’s a moments silence. A no-mans land forms, both of you sat in your respective houses. Neither of you willing to breach the topic.

He speaks, then, all at once. The words tumbling out of his mouth, like he’s swilled them and spat them out.

"I think we both know things haven’t been right lately. I’ve been pulling away and it isn’t fair to you. I’ve been struggling and I’ve taken it out on you and let it affect our relationship. I think I need some time. I don’t think I’m doing you any good being around you. I’m not giving you what you need. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you and I know you love me too much to leave. So I have to leave. And I know it sounds like it’s for me, like I’m hiding behind you. But I have to do this, for us both.”

27 seconds. That's how long it takes for him to say the words that shatter you.

January 4th, 2013

The shirt smells less like him by the day. You've tried to ration yourself, limiting your wearing of it only for times just after you've showered. Avoiding scented shower gels or lotions.

It’s been a month since your phone call. Thirty-one days exactly. He’d said he’d needed time.

It’s been twenty-three days since you last heard from him. You don’t count the days intentionally, it’s just hard to forget. Hard not to keep track of the distance between you.

The message had been simple.

2:52am, 13th December 2012 - Spencer

I’m sorry.

You hadn’t replied. You’d drafted various iterations of one:

For what?

No you’re not.

You can’t just apologise Spencer, that doesn’t fix anything. I don’t understand what happened. I don’t understand how you could just leave, after everything. After a year, you just thew everything away.

Fuck you.

None of them seemed fitting. No words could capture everything: the anger, the hurt, the confusion, the loss. Sometimes, late at night, you’d sit and type a reply. Hoping that somewhere, wherever he was, he’d be watching. That for some reason, he’d have the messages open. Seeing the three dots pop up on the screen, and sensing the longing. If he was, he never gave any indication.

February 2nd, 2013

Penelope's instagram feed reveals a new picture of Spencer, his cheek pressed against Emily's. They're wearing matching costumes. You vaguely recognise it as some show he always used to talk about, one that was in Russian. One they both loved. A swipe across reveals the rest of the team, a group photo of them donning various costumes.

It aches.

Every day you get further away him. From the last time you kissed him. Every day it's hard to remember the details of it. It's all getting fuzzy, like a video tape you've worn out by replaying it too many times. Did you kiss him or did he kiss you? Was he wearing that lavender shirt or was that a detail you'd added in?

No wonder eyewitness testimony was so unreliable.

Somehow it almost makes you obsess over it more. Trying to catch the dimming light between your fingers, as if you could drag it back into the spotlight, front and centre, full details illuminated. Would that make it better or worse?

Your stomach sinks. Pushing yourself off the sofa, you force yourself to look past the picture of you, him, and Henry from that day in the park. The one that still rests on your mantelpiece. Maybe it'd be easier if you could compartmentalise him. Packed him away in a box, or threw him in a trash can.

Maybe it's pathetic.

If you close your eyes you can almost feel his warmth. How it felt to lie in his arms, the press of his lips to your forehead. Soft and reassuring. I'm here.

The slight rise and fall of his chest. His lips slightly parted, his head lolling towards your shoulder. How you should have savoured it all. Reached out and touched him.

You think of all the times you lay there in his arms, thinking you'd remember that moment later. It was true, you'd always remembered it when he was pulled away to a case. You'd close your eyes, and remember how it felt to be curled up against him. Safe in a little cocoon of affection. Now it burns in your chest.

There's nothing left of him now but what's been. You trail him along with you, like a rag of a childhood blanket you can't bare to part with.

He can't offer you anything now. You yank him forward into your future without his permission, traipsing your old memories through to your present, forming new ones only through Penelope's instagram feed and conversations with the team.

It's not that you don't love and miss them too, but they're his.

Every time you call it's pleasantries, soft and familiar until the words you've been rolling around your mouth since the beginning of the conversation spill out, "How's Spencer?"

He's fine. He's always fine.

It's odd, how the person you spoke to everyday, the man who knew your favourite colour, what your go to animation is, how you like your caffeine, ambles on without you. He seems to make it work, live his life without remnants of you spilling out.

So why can't you?

You're a cup filled with Spencer Reid. With every day that passes, a bit of him drains out. Slowly, you'll forget his opinion on Kurt Vonnegut novels, how he likes to lay the cushions out when you make the bed, the way he makes hot chocolate.

Your last kiss.

***

December 3rd, 2012

"Here you go," You smile but it's tight-lipped.

He returns the same one, accepting the lunch you'd packed him with a quiet, "Thanks."

"Have a good day at work."

He nods. He looks up at you, stubble teasing at his jawline. He hasn't shaved in a couple of days, and you'd comment on it if it wasn't for the hollow look in his eyes, almost imploring you not to speak.

The lavender shirt compliments him well, too well. The shade matches the all too prominent purple bags under his eyes.

"I'll call you if there's a case."

You nod, taking a tentative step towards him, "Can we talk tonight? I feel like we need to have a proper conversation about things."

"You're right."

"I'll see you later."

Unexpectedly, he takes a step towards you. His hand hesitating at your hip, settling for hovering in the air just in front of it. He leans in, pressing the lightest of pecks to your lips. Shocked at the contact, you kiss him back, deepening it.

To your surprise, he returns it. His lips move against yours in a way that's familiar, feverish. Your hand comes up to his cheek, swiping at the errant curl of hair tickling you.

Your lips glide against his, savouring the secondhand taste of coffee.

His tongue slips across your lower lip. Then he pulls away.

There's a blush tinging up his neck, and he almost gives you a real smile, "I'll see you tonight."

Permanent tagslist: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187 @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082

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fortisfiliae · 3 years

Text

Promised Part 16 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, physical fights, mentions of torture (brief), blood and violence, character death. Read with care!

Word count: 4k

Part 16 - 30th June 1945

The N.E.W.T.s had gone by so quickly, it felt like all the preparations, all those years in Hogwarts and all the worries they had brought you, had been of utmost exaggeration. Of course, they had been challenging, but what the Professors had said about them in advance, how hard and draining they would be, how nervous every student had been, made it even more curious afterwards. It had only taken a few days after all. Some days of your life, which would most likely be forgotten in a few years. Just like any other week. And all that fuss for that? Well, at least they were over.

Tom, Camille and you had passed most classes with the highest grades. Freda had gotten some outstanding grades as well and even Avery and Lestrange had qualified, if only barely. The final evening in the Great Hall was filled with a strange kind of melancholy for the students of year seven. You had done it, all of you. Seven years in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was like your first year had only gone by moments ago, you could practically still feel the sorting hat sitting on top of your head. But alas, all good things come to an end.

Final points were given to all of the houses and, to most people’s surprise, Hufflepuff won the cup. Everyone knew headmaster Dippet favoured Slytherin and Tom and Freda had surely given their own house a few extra points here and there, but Avery and Lestrange’s robbery from Slughorn had cost Slytherin too many points to recover from. All Hufflepuffs were overwhelmed with joy and Ben even ran over from the Gryffindor table to kiss Camille on the cheek while she celebrated.

Walking through the halls one last time was strange, you couldn’t fathom that you would leave the castle ultimately. It really had grown to be everyone’s second home and it would always remain so in your heart. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of time for grief, as the antidote for Mors Grano was finally ready and waited to be filled into a flask to be used the following day. Tomorrow, June 30th would be your wedding day. A day you had dreaded but still couldn’t wait for. A day that was about to change everything.

And there you were. In an old chapel north of Ramsbury, a small muggle town, where no one knew who you were. The Gaunts had chosen the place themselves and had only told your family where to go the day of, most likely to make sure you couldn’t plan to mess with them.

The chapel was dull, as was everything else there. No guests, not even a priest or a registrar to wed the two of you. Marvolo had told you that he was to do it himself. The place was so small, it wouldn’t have even fit a lot of guests, but you still wished that at least Camille could have been there to witness. And so, with a heavy heart, you stood in the tiny side room, where Mother’s wedding dress waited to be put on, while Elsie, your parents and the Gaunts waited in the chapel.

“Alright?” Tom asked as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror.

You watched him as you went over towards the dress, your fingers brushing over the silk skirt. He looked great in his tailored black suit, white shirt and dark green tie, there was no way of denying it. Freda Morris would have been just as green with envy if she had seen him, but yet, not everything was about looks.

“I’m alright,” you said and took another look at the dress. “I have to change now. Put this thing on.”

“I’ll give you some privacy in a minute,” he mentioned as he walked over to the desk where some things were gathered. He had put a large box there when you had arrived. “I brought someone with me.”

He pulled the top off from the box and you peaked in. “Nagini! Marvolo allowed for you to take her here?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tom shrugged. “And it would be better if it stayed that way.”

“I see,” you said as you held your hand inside the box for the snake to smell you. “Well at least I know one of my friends is here.”

Tom wore an unreadable expression when he closed the box again, his lips thin as he nodded slightly. “Do you have the antidote with you?”

“Yes,” you answered and pulled it out from your pocket. The flask was the size of your palm, small and translucent. The potion inside shone through the glass like a silver and lilac gloss. “It’s right here.”

“Alright then,” he said. “Give it to your sister as soon as you can. I’ll wait outside with the others.”

When he closed the door behind himself you heard Marvolo nagging about what was taking so long, urging for you to hurry. The bastard made everything about himself again, even on your wedding day, which should have been the happiest day of your life. You pulled the dress off the hook vigorously, put it on and changed it here and there with your wand to make it fit better. When you went over to the mirror to look at yourself, it felt like staring at a stranger’s reflection. The dress was beautiful, but you didn’t look even close to what a happy bride should look like. Your hair and makeup had been done in a hurry, nothing was as perfect as it could have been. No traditions, no extended family or friends, not even a banquet. You didn’t know what you had expected - it was clear from the beginning that the wedding wouldn’t be anything like you had dreamed of since you were little - but it was certainly not this. Not as marginal, not as a means to an end.

Three hard knocks on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” Marvolo’s muffled voice called. “Hurry up!”

Desperation turned into annoyance and your eyebrows furrowed even deeper. What did he want now? “I need a minute,” you answered as you opened the door only an inch. “Elsie, Mum, can you help me with my dress?”

Marvolo mumbled a few incomprehensible words while the two walked in. To hell with him, he could wait for five more minutes before he would get what he wanted. And you should get what you wanted too. Right now.

Mother looked you up and down with a smile. “You look beautiful, darling. What do you need help with?”

“Come,” you told them quietly and took Elsie by the hand, leading her to the other end of the tiny room, so that the Gaunts wouldn’t hear you. “I have to tell you something.”

The two looked at each other and then back at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I found something out a while back. Tom told me, he showed me. The curse that hit you, Elsie, it wasn’t sent by someone who wanted to attack Father. It wasn’t meant for Father at all.”

Elsie’s eyes grew wide and Mother laid her hand on your sister‘s shoulder. “What do you mean? Why would you tell us that minutes before your wedding?” Mother asked.

“Let me explain,” you went on. “Tom showed me that it was the Gaunts who sent the curse. That’s why they found a cure so quickly. And why they didn’t heal her completely.”

Mother gasped faintly, her hand wandered up to her own chest. “You mean…”

“Yes. They chose Elsie specifically so that you and Father would agree to their pact.”

“I… I can’t believe it,” Mother mumbled.

“They made me sick?” Elsie asked, her eyes as big and round as marbles. “On purpose?”

You nodded.

“But why haven’t you told us sooner?” Mother asked. “We could have-”

“I did as much as I could without attracting too much attention. Tom and I, we both assumed that the Gaunts wouldn’t even lift Elsie’s curse after the wedding. And even if they did, I wouldn’t trust them enough to let you drink anything that they would give to her again. So we brewed the antidote ourselves.”

You pulled out the flask and held it up in the air. Mother took it and inspected it for a moment. “You brewed that?”

“Yes. Elsie, take it right now. You will be healed completely then and the Gaunts won’t notice anything.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mother asked. “And what then? What are you going to do?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s safe. And then,” you looked at the door to the chapel and heaved a sigh. “Then I’ll get married. Stick to the plan.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said as she handed Elsie the flask.

“Would you rather have her drink something that Morfin brewed up? If he would give her anything at all.”

“You’re right,” she said and shook her head.

“Quick Elsie,” you urged her. “Drink up and we’ll be ready to go.”

Elsie nodded as she pulled the cork off the flask, then put her lips around the opening and took a small gulp. She scrunched up her face into a grimace. “Tastes gross.”

“Sorry, princess. They don’t make recipes for strawberry flavoured antidotes yet. Now drink it.”

Elsie exhaled sharply, then threw her head back and let the liquid pour into her mouth. One swig, two. She had it down almost completely when suddenly the door flew open.

“Excuse me ladies, what is taking you so long?” Marvolo asked, standing in the door frame, with Morfin, Father and Tom behind him. Marvolo stared at Elsie, who was just gulping down the last drops from the flask. “What is that? What did you give her?”

The three of you froze, staring back at Marvolo and the other men. Shit.

“Just her vitamins,” you lied. “To make sure she’s well for the ceremony.”

“No, no,” Marvolo huffed as he walked in. “Give me that.” He took the flask from Elsie’s hand and brought it up to his nose. “Morfin, come here.”

Morfin entered the room as well, took a look at the empty flask and smelled it. Father and Tom took several steps in too, filling up the room almost completely.

“Stop,” Marvolo ordered and held his hand up to Father and Tom. “I didn’t tell you to come in.” The two halted and remained standing by the door. “Now, son. What is it?”

Morfin inspected the remaining liquid inside the flask, shaking it to see the single droplets hanging inside the vial. One side of his mouth pulled up into a ghastly smirk before he spoke through gritted teeth: “Mors Grano antidote.”

Marvolo brought his hand up to his neck, fumbling on the chain that hung there. That must have been where he carried their own flask with the unfinished antidote. It was still there, which visibly confused him. He remained calm, wouldn’t dare to show that he didn’t know how you had done it, his eyes dark and full of anger.

“You little bitch,” he spat. “Morfin, take the child.”

Morfin did as he was told, quicker than any of you could have reacted and pulled Elsie to the middle of the room by the hand, then stepped behind her, one hand around her neck, his wand in his other one, pointed right at Elsie’s head.

Mother cried out when she saw what had happened to her daughter and turned to walk over to her, while Father ran towards Morfin and Elsie as well.

“Stupefy!” Marvolo called, his wand directed at Father, who fell to the ground immediately. “I told you not to step in. No one’s making a move now unless I tell them to.”

Mother fell to her knees, looking at Father unconscious on the ground and Marvolo gaped at her in disgust. “Take your husband. And shut your mouth, or you’ll be lying there with him.”

She pressed her lips shut and crawled over to Father, slowly dragged him to the corner of the room behind you, where she held his head between her hands. Silent tears ran down Elsie’s cheeks, who was still captured between Morfin’s hand and his wand. You had managed to pull out your own wand during the turmoil and looked over at Tom in the doorframe, who had done the same.

Marvolo had noticed the looks you had exchanged and heaved a bitter laugh. “You two, eh? Partners in crime. And what do you think you’re doing there, girl? With your wand out. Do you really think you can defeat me with your schoolbook magic?”

You gripped your wand tighter to prevent your hand from shaking, swallowed down thickly and frowned. There were a million things you wanted to say, thousands of curse words you could have called him, but Morfin still had Elsie between his fingers. “Don’t you underestimate me, Marvolo.”

He clicked his tongue, let his head fall back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, juveniles. Graduated a day ago and think they’ll conquer the world. Well, I got some bad news for you then. But first, you’re going to tell me how you’ve found out about Mors Grano. And how you got a hold of an antidote that isn’t ours.”

You didn’t answer and only looked at Elsie, who breathed rapidly, her hands holding on to Morfin’s grip around her neck.

“I see,” Marvolo sighed and turned his head towards the door. “Tom, would you give us the honour then? Come, stand next to your fiancée.”

Tom walked over silently and placed himself next to you, his hand gripping yours.

“Oh look at that,” Marvolo feigned. “Tragically in love. Now, Tom, explain.”

Tom didn’t answer, only held your hand a bit tighter and you could feel something cold inside of it, something metallic, perhaps.

“No?” Marvolo asked. “You don’t want to tell us? Well, then we’ll have to motivate you. Morfin, go ahead.”

Morfin grinned but didn’t point his wand at Elsie anymore. Instead, he pointed it right at you. “Crucio!”

The pain that rushed through you was unbearable from the moment it had started. You fell to your knees and opened your mouth to scream, but couldn’t even hear yourself or anyone else anymore. A million knives must have pierced your body at once, and they scraped off your skin with rusty blades inch by inch, while your head hammered and stung as if a lightning bolt had struck right into it. Your vision had left you from the pain, everything around you had gone white and you only heard scraps of conversation between the all-consuming buzz that rumbled between your ears. Tom was begging them to stop, you assumed, but couldn’t concentrate on his words anymore, as the pain threatened to crack your skull.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times when your perception came back and felt a small hand on your cheek. Elsie kneeled above you, next to Tom.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse, while you sat up groggily.

Marvolo was still standing in his spot, looking down at Morfin, who lay on the ground, holding his leg with both hands. And attached to his thigh, was Nagini, pressing her fangs into him through his trousers.

“Nagini,” you whispered and as soon as you had said her name, the snake let go of Morfin and retracted.

“She crawled out of her box when he hit you with the curse,” Tom said quietly. “And bit him before they could have noticed.”

Tom helped to get you on your feet again and even though your knees were still weak from the Cruciatus Curse, you stood in front of Elsie, to shield her from the Gaunts.

Morfin winced in pain and still held his leg. Nagini’s venom spread quickly, Morfin’s thigh was twitching on its own.

“Father,” Morfin whined. “I need treatment. Help me get home.”

Marvolo looked down at his son, lips parted with an expression of sheer revulsion on his face. “Do you think I have time to take care of your little injuries right now? Suck it up.”

“But… But Father, I can’t feel my leg anymore,” Morfin panted. “I might die when the venom reaches my heart.”

Marvolo sighed and bumped his foot against Morfin’s hurt leg, to which his son screamed. “Then leave.”

Morfin nodded, it must have taken all of his remaining strength not to pass out, and closed his eyes before he apparated, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.

“Now back to you,” Marvolo said and looked at Tom as if nothing more than a minor inconvenience had just occurred. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can kill everyone in this room within a second.”

Tom still didn’t answer and placed himself in front of Elsie and you, which made Marvolo laugh again.

“Oh, boy. You’d sacrifice yourself? For this family and not your own? I know I’ve raised you differently. You’re a disgrace.”

“You want me to tell you everything?” Tom asked. “Then let me come closer, so I can share all of my secrets.”

Marvolo remained unimpressed at the thought, there was no spell he couldn’t counter. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come as close as you want, son. But keep your wand up, where I can see it.”

And so Tom went. One step, two, three, four, until he was face to face with his grandfather. Marvolo still eyed Tom’s wand, gripping his own tightly. And then, Tom moved his other hand abruptly, jerking it toward Marvolo’s abdomen once. You couldn’t see from where you stood and only noticed when Marvolo looked down himself and opened his mouth.

“Imperio,” Tom said quietly while Marvolo fell to his knees.

Now that you could see what he had done, you put your hands in front of Elsie’s eyes, holding them closed. Marvolo was bleeding from his stomach and Tom held a bloody knife in his wandless hand.

“I’m just making sure you can’t apparate,” Tom said coldly. “Like uncle did. The coward. I want to see how you die.”

Marvolo looked up at Tom, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, tears edging on the corners of his eyes.

“No. You don’t get to talk now,” Tom went on. “Never again. You’re going to listen. And I’m even going to tell you what you wanted to hear. I found a way to tell her what you have done to Elsie. I stole Morfin’s book, and we brewed the antidote ourselves. Oh yes, before I forget, we also stole some Banshee tears from Morfin, while you were out. Scrook and Hokey were very helpful. I even learned some new things this year. Some of them from a muggle-born, can you believe? It got me thinking, you purebloods are so concentrated on magic, you wouldn’t even realise when I’d come up to you with a knife in my hand. And I was right. You didn’t. You see, you called me a bastard so often and reminded me that my father was a muggle. So I thought I’d remind you myself how much of a half-blood I am. Isn’t it awful dying the muggle way? So slowly, so weak.”

Marvolo laid to the side, impacted by the Imperius Curse and opened his mouth, coughing up blood, his eyes half-closed.

“And now, here we are,” Tom whispered. “You did this all to yourself. Good night, Grandfather.”

It took a while until you all had calmed yourselves. Father had woken up some minutes after Marvolo had closed his eyes completely and you had brought Elsie into the chapel, so she wouldn’t have to see the body. Tom, your parents and you hadn’t decided yet what to do with Marvolo. You had thought about leaving him there, or to apparate him to Gaunt manor, where the elves or Morfin could take care of it. If Morfin himself was still alive.

Mother joined you in the chapel and you took the chance to get some fresh air outside. Only out in the open you noticed that you were still wearing the white dress. What scorn of fate it was to watch someone die on your wedding day. The door opened again behind you and Tom walked out. He had managed to remain composed better than anyone else there, even though he was the one who had killed somebody.

He walked up to you, looking at the ground and only lifted his head when he stood right in front of you. A warm breeze brushed over your skin as the sun was setting. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. Physically you were. Your mental state was debatable. “I think I am.”

Tom dipped his head once too and loosened his tie. “Are you scared of me after what you’ve seen?”

You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head slightly. His pupils were extended, brows sitting calmly above. “No,” you answered. “I would have done the same if I had to.”

He bit his lip and nodded, hands inside his pockets before he took them out, held you by your waist and kissed you. All the tension and stress seemed to leave your body for a moment, your shoulders finally relaxing and you wished you could hold on to him like this for an hour. Tom stayed close for a moment, pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “So,” he said as he took a step back. “The pact is done with. Elsie is cured. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. He was right. “I guess I don’t.”

Tom pushed the tip of his shoe through the gravel on the ground, drawing patterns. “But I wanted to know,” he said. “Would you have gone through with it if this had turned out differently? Would you have married me and stayed?”

There was a moment of silence when you thought about it. What answer could anyone give to such a question? You liked him, yes, you would even dare to say you were in love with him. But would you have really married him this quickly if you could have decided yourself?

“Would you?” you asked, to which he smirked. The wind tousled his hair, just like when you had sat with him at the bench back in the Hogwarts’ courtyard. “Why don’t you ask me? Properly I mean.”

Tom’s smirk vanished and he looked at you seriously. He took both of your hands in his, inspecting you closely. He opened his mouth but shut it again to clear his throat. Then he asked: “Do you want to marry me?”

A smile formed on your face, one that he didn’t mirror, as long as you wouldn’t answer him. “No,” you said.

Tom’s expression didn’t change, but when you looked closely, you noticed that the size of his pupils had decreased, his brows now hanging in confusion. He still held your hands but you could feel him trembling.

“Not yet,” you added, your smile still in place. “Not like this and certainly not today. Not on Marvolo’s terms. Not without my friends and not before we really get to know each other and both decide, on our own, that we want to do it.”

You leaned forward, kissed him once and said: “So, ask me again in a year or two?”

And then, the rarest sight of them all, Tom Riddle smiling genuinely, was given to you. He looked so handsome wearing it and with the orange light from the setting sun on his face when he let your hands go and pulled you in.

“I promise I will.”

That was it, the grande finale :3 I truly hope you liked it! There’s still one more part to come, the epilogue, which will hopefully please the majority of you. I see it as a little cherry on top. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!

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that-house · 3 years

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The Advertiser (A City of Mammon story)

Thursday, June 8th, 3358

I finally have a job! It pays really well, and the hours are super generous. I’m an undercover advertiser! From 10 to 1 on weekdays a marketing AI or my human manager takes control of my mind and body and uses me to advertise for various companies. My contract prevents me from telling anyone about it, so I’m writing about it in my journal.

Friday, June 9th, 3358

It’s a little scary. I black out at 10 AM and I come to 3 hours later in a different location. It’s worth it though. I’ve never had so much money! Ever since the Free Will Law was passed in 3352, forcing companies to double the salary for jobs that require the employee to sacrifice their free will, I’ve been dreaming of getting a job like this. It’s one of the highest-paying jobs available to Middle Marketers!

Monday, June 12th, 3358

I think I dream while I’m being piloted. I don’t remember the dreams, though. But there’s some semblance of memories.

Tuesday, June 13th, 3358

I got a bonus! People I’ve interacted with on the job have been purchasing the products I’ve recommended them. Just once, I’d like to be able to see what goes on. Do I still act like myself? Are the ads subtle or do I just scream about my favorite brand of toothpaste? I might put up some cameras.

Wednesday, June 14th, 3358

THAT IS NOT ME. Do you know how creepy it is to see yourself moving in a way you never would? I’m not a graceful person, but whatever is controlling me does so with fluid precision. I only put up a camera in my house, so I don’t know anything else about the job. I’m going to spread my surveillance network further out.

Thursday, June 15th, 3358

I’m getting tired of taking taxis back home. The fees are racking up. Today I wound up halfway across the city. I suppose they don’t want me interacting with people who know me. They might recognize that it isn’t me. I’ll be putting cameras up in my neighborhood this weekend.

Friday, June 16th, 3358

I think I had another dream. I don’t know where my mind goes when I get taken over, but I remember feeling something. The AI seems to know my body better than I do. Everything it does looks so smooth and polished. It knows where my limbs end. I could never imagine it stubbing my toe or hurting me in any way. Its control makes me feel safe, but I’m also jealous that it’s using my body better than I ever could.

Monday, June 19th, 3358

I got my cameras set up. They cover a few blocks. Today they picked up something… unnerving. Today, whoever was piloting me was most certainly not the AI. They were clumsy and didn’t seem to understand the dimensions of my body, but they moved with so much purpose. They stalked to the door and waited impatiently for a taxi, got in as quickly as possible, and sped off. When I came to, I was unharmed, and didn’t notice that anything was different until I watched the video.

Tuesday, June 20th, 3358

The AI was back today. I don’t know what yesterday was. I’m confused. The pay is still excellent, I’m still unharmed. I guess my manager must have stepped in yesterday, though why they did I don’t know.

Wednesday, June 21st, 3358

Today was unsettling for two reasons. My manager took control again, and I had a nightmare. It’s weird seeing my unconscious body which I’ve gotten so used to being graceful and calm being almost angry instead. But nothing bad has happened yet, other than the nightmare. I felt the familiar symptoms of the blackout coming on, the fuzzy vision and the mild headache, and the next thing I knew I was falling. I landed in a pool of blood, hot and red and sticky and tasting of iron. It was just deep enough that I couldn’t quite keep my mouth above the surface. I tried to scream but the blood flooded into my mouth, choking my cries before they could make it out.

Thursday, June 22nd, 3358

I need to spread my cameras further. My manager took control of me again. There’s something about the way I move when they’re in control that scares me. Too much confidence and too much anger.

Friday, June 23rd, 3358

Today my manager took the stairs. They took me outside and up to the next floor, maybe higher. My cameras are focused on the ways the taxis tend to go. I hadn’t considered that I might walk somewhere. I know everyone in the building. Surely they would notice that something’s wrong.

Monday, June 26th, 3358

I put up more cameras. I don’t think my manager is advertising. They’re going up and down the building. They aren’t going to anyone I don’t already know. There’s no way they could mimic me well enough to not give themselves away. They clearly aren’t trying to sell anything. The nightmares are getting worse.

Tuesday, June 27th, 3358

I got another bonus. I don’t think I’ve sold anything in a week. I can afford more cameras. At this point I could start my own security firm. I haven’t been controlled by the AI in a long time. I miss it.

Wednesday, June 28th, 3358

Someone put up missing person flyers throughout the building. Mr. Sharpe hasn’t been seen for a few days. There were signs of a struggle, blood in his apartment. The day they think he went missing I had a nightmare. I dreamt I saw his face. It was awful. By Mammon it was awful. His teeth were ripped out, his nose was cut off, and there were scissors in my hands. I’m beginning to worry that I had something to do with it.

Thursday, June 29th, 3358

If you were a serial killer who could kill through other people wouldn’t you do it?

Friday, June 30th, 3358

Fuck. I’ve slept on it, and I think my manager is killing people through my body. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I will continue writing in this journal until this problem has been concluded. Should the writing in this journal end before we have reached a satisfying end, it is likely that I myself have been killed.

Monday, July 3rd, 3358

I called my employer to ask who my manager is. They said they weren’t at liberty to tell me. I had another nightmare, this time about Ms. Hathaway. I won’t be surprised if flyers bearing her face are up tomorrow.

Tuesday, July 4th, 3358

Happy Dollar Day! The flyers went up. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do. My manager has been doing a good job sneaking around so far. The security drones still aren’t looking for me. I’m worried it’s only a matter of time. I need to find my manager, and soon.

Wednesday, July 5th, 3358

Another nightmare. I might as well report Ms. DiAngelo’s disappearance myself. I can only assume that if her body is found, it will have been brutalized with a hammer. That’s what happened in my dream. I feel like I’m stuck watching myself commit atrocities from the outside.

Thursday, July 6th, 3358

Upon further examination, there’s blood under my nails. I’m a weapon for my manager. They’re using me to kill people, and if I get caught they’ll move on to another undercover advertiser. They might be using multiple people at once.

Friday, July 7th, 3358

I want to quit, but I can’t. Quitting won’t stop my manager. They’ll keep on killing unless I stop them. I’m the only person who can do anything. I don’t know how much blood is on my hands. They’ve been used to kill at least three people, but there could be more. I may not be the mind behind the killing but I’m guilty enough. It’s my responsibility to end this.

Monday, July 10th, 3358

Normally I write following my shift, but as soon as it ends I’m heading to the company headquarters. I’m bringing a gun. This ends today. I’ll write another entry when I get back to provide closure, and then I’d like to put this journal and this grisly business behind me.

#the city of mammon #neon-grey-writing #short story #horror #capitalist horror

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mostlymovieswithmax · 3 years

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Movies I watched in June

Now I think I’m comfortably in a rhythm to get these posts out. For one, I’m writing up short reviews either straight after watching a movie or sometimes it might take a few days. But June was a fairly good month in terms of the amount of films I watched. I got to go to the cinema quite a bit which is always fun. Anyway, let’s get on with it! If you’re looking for something good to watch (or maybe even something bad), I hope this list can help in some way to introduce you to new and different movies that maybe you’ve never heard of, or were thinking of checking out. Here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 30th of June 2021.

Bo Burnham: Inside (2021) - 10/10 Everyone was going off about how great this film is. An hour and a half of Bo Burnham in lockdown, singing songs and being upset is definitely a powerful hook and I have to agree with the general consensus because Inside blew me away. More thoughts on this in my podcast: The Sunday Movie Marathon episode 34.

Bo Burnham: Make Happy (2016) - 7/10 After watching Inside, I figured I’d rewatch some of Burnham’s older stand-up shows on Netflix. Make Happy is a lot of fun, injected with a lot of introspection from Burnham that really makes the special stand out, despite a lot of gags that just didn’t land for me.

Bo Burnham: What. (2013) - 6/10 It’s plain to see just how much Bo Burnham has grown over the years and how he has honed his comedy and music. ‘What.’ is a good stepping stone in the comedian’s career, showcasing loads of promise in him from a young age. There are some jokes that haven’t aged as well and some that straight up dragged, but overall the show is still enjoyable.

The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021) - 3/10 Packed theatre for this one, obviously. People love a Conjuring movie, and I’d also say people love a good scare… but this movie isn’t scary, or good for that matter. More thoughts on episode 35 of the podcast.

The Conjuring (2013) - 6/10 After the horrendously disappointing debacle that was the third Conjuring movie, I decided to watch James Wan’s original movie and man, if this wasn’t better in literally every way. I don’t tend to love James Wan movies but I can’t deny he’s got so much talent in how he makes movies and it makes The Conjuring a lot more fun to see competent filmmaking in the horror genre in a way that actually creates an eerie atmosphere with creative uses of camera-work and editing.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - 8/10 Normally I’m not big into the old slasher movies. I appreciate that for the time, perhaps they hit differently, but now I just don’t tend to connect with them. Wes Craven’s ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ is a bit of an exception. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not particularly scary, though it does employ a lot of interesting techniques and designs. Undeniably, the design for Fred Krueger is a staple in cinema, with the striped jumper, hat, scarred face and knives for fingers not leaving the mind of the general public any time soon. Elm Street doesn’t have too many kills but when it does, it is so effective and fun to watch. Craven was one of the greats, truly.

One Cut of the Dead (2017) - 8/10 This has to be one of the most engaging zombie movies I’ve seen in a long time. There’s a lot to spoil with One Cut of The Dead but I won’t go into that here. It is clever and funny, subverting expectations in ways I really didn’t expect. I really cannot recommend it enough.

Dave Chappelle: Sticks & Stones (2019) - 8/10 Since we’re watching Chappelle's Show for episode 45 of the podcast, I wanted to get an idea for what I was in for, so I watched Dave Chappelle’s stand-up show from a couple of years ago. Yeah, really funny, which I suppose is what you want from a stand-up special, but what makes it better is Chappelle’s commentary on the world at large and how he’s able to combine humour with intelligent criticism.

Fear(s) of the Dark (2008) - 4/10 A few years ago I think I watched this animated black and white anthology film on a New Year's Day when I had foolishly decided to pull an all-nighter and then go out with mates for ice cream. Never again. But I’d forgotten what I thought of this movie and decided to get the DVD for cheap on eBay. Perhaps I am doomed to watch Fear(s) of the Dark only when I am tired because I popped this on when it was nearing midnight. I was lucid enough to understand what I was watching though… and it was quite boring. These short films emulate the filmmakers’ nightmares - an interesting premise in theory, but pretty weak on execution.

The Bourne Identity (2002) - 3/10 We marathoned the first three Bourne movies for The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast, episode 36 so check that out for my expanded thoughts on this, the best Bourne of the three.

The Bourne Supremacy (2004) - 2/10 Immediately after, we did the deep dive into Supremacy, the second Bourne and the worst of the three (albeit by a very slim margin). Check out episode 36 for more.

The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) - 2/10 I really couldn’t care less about these terrible movies. It was a horrible chore to sit through them. Ultimatum was also rubbish. More gripes and discussion in episode 36 of the podcast.

The Father (2021) - 10/10 Another trip to the cinema for this masterpiece. I tried very hard not to sob loudly in the theatre where aside from myself, the audience totalled three people. More discussion of The Father in episode 36 the podcast.

Drag Me To Hell (2009) - 2/10 I’m pretty shocked that Sam Raimi directed this. Usually when I watch one of his films, I can see his staple of fun gore, practical effects, crazy camera movements… but there was none of that here. It just felt like a really bad horror, indistinguishable from the regular affair, with no personality or passion. Drag Me To Hell might even have been one of those movies I’d avoided in the past when I was younger because it seemed too scary but no, it was just boring and bad and I feel like there’s something I’m not getting out of this that other people seem to be.

Moonrise Kingdom (2012) - 8/10 At this point, I feel I have to admit Wes Anderson as perhaps my second favourite director. His movies are just so nice and beautiful to watch. Moonrise Kingdom is a quirky love story between two kids and honestly, with any other director, could have been handled poorly because the story is quite simple. But Anderson injects so much of his signature style and personality into the film. A powerhouse of actors with the likes of Frances McDormand, Bill Murray, Bruce Willis and Tilda Swinton, among a few of Anderson’s regulars, make Moonrise Kingdom a breeze. Good for a dark day to lift the spirits.

Nobody (2021) - 8/10 I needed something to fill an otherwise uneventful day, so I hopped on a bus and booked a ticket for Ilya Naishuller’s new action movie, Nobody. The film started and to my annoyance, the lights in the theatre were still on. When I go to the cinema I don’t really want to see the other people sitting around me, so I got up from my seat, abandoning the first two minutes of the film to find a member of staff to turn the lights off. After showing them that the lights were in fact still on, I took to my seat and watched the movie for what felt like a little while before the lights went off. Nobody is a really fun action movie. Perhaps similar in a lot of ways to John Wick, but with more personality to the main character. More thoughts on episode 37 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

The Darjeeling Limited (2007) - 8/10 After procuring the Criterion blu-ray from my local hmv, I delved into all the supplements it had to offer, including a making-of documentary, chats with the director, and a gallery of polaroid pictures from when they were shooting the film in India. The Darjeeling Limited is perhaps not peak Wes Anderson, but I do kind of love it. It makes me want to go on a journey to another country with my brother and sister, perhaps in ten to fifteen years. Here, the main characters are three brothers who travel to India seeking some kind of spiritual experience. Things don’t seem to work out that way, however, because I’m not sure how spiritual an experience you can have when you plan out an itinerary to schedule it. Fantastic performances all round and of course, beautiful direction and cinematography.

Face/Off (1997) - 3/10 Was I supposed to laugh? Maybe I was just too tired but I really couldn’t stand Face/Off. It didn’t feel particularly special and despite a couple of fun ideas, it was mostly quite boring.

Luca (2021) - 5/10 The new Pixar movie leaves a lot to be desired. The animation is really second to none and I can’t fault how beautiful the movie looks, more so when it’s set in this little Italian town than under the sea. The story is so uninspired though, with the basic premise being that the protagonists want a Vespa so they enter a competition to win the money to buy one. Also they’re fish that turn into people on dry land. Maybe that’s enough for some people, but I couldn’t shake the familiarity of Luca. It never went in any interesting directions and basically did exactly what I figured it would do. I don’t believe it’s out here to subvert expectations but I would like some creativity when it comes to the writing. Perhaps if I watched it again, I might like it less. It was pretty dull.

Punch-Drunk Love (2002) - 10/10 I’m a little disappointed with the Criterion blu-ray for Punch-Drunk love. It’s supplements host a couple of low-quality deleted scenes that were clearly deleted for a reason, and some weird artsy music videos that incorporated footage from the movie. I was quite shocked at how low-effort it all seemed. The movie itself is fantastic though and I do believe it to be Adam Sandler’s best performance (and I really liked Uncut Gems). He portrays a man who is constantly put down by his family, clearly has some kind of social disability, and on top of it all he’s getting scammed by a sex line. Amongst all this, he’s trying to navigate a new relationship and it’s so sweet to watch all the interactions between Sandler and Emily Watson. It’s a perfect melding of romance, comedy and anxiety, beautifully directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.

Fargo (1996) - 9/10 Another movie you wouldn’t expect to be so funny, especially since it’s based on this horrific true story about murder, deceit and money. But the Coen brothers know how to handle it. Excellent performances, beautiful colour palette, and a story that just gets more and more insane as it goes.

House (1977) - 7/10 House (or, Hausu) was a recommendation for episode 37 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast so check that out for more discussion. Generally speaking, this Japanese horror/comedy was bonkers. Insanely creative and abstract (which at points can detriment the film) with an almost Balamory-esque presentation. I was happy to find that the comedy was not lost on me at all; this is a hilarious film, albeit maybe not all the time.

The Princess Bride (1987) - 10/10 I reviewed this in my May wrap-up but this time around, I had recommended The Princess Bride for the podcast, the discussion for which you can listen to in episode 37. It all clicked this time around. It is such a fun, warm movie with a lot of laughs and superb production.

This Is Spinal Tap (1984) - 8/10 Another Rob Reiner joint, a few years before The Princess Bride. This Is Spinal Tap is lauded as a masterpiece in comedic cinema and I might agree; this movie is hilarious. Shot in mockumentary fashion, it follows a band playing shows and trying to get gigs, coupled with the inevitable screw-ups of live performance and creative disagreements. It lost me every now and again but it’s still a must-watch.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) - 6/10 A decent Disney flick but certainly not their best. One highlight includes the villain singing a lament about wanting to have sex with Esmerelda and calling her a witch for giving him a boner.

Ponyo (2008) - 4/10 Not sure if I’ve ever disliked a Miyazaki movie before but I did not vibe with Ponyo. It came across as very baby and as such, there really wasn’t much to read into. The animation is fantastic as always but so much of it felt specifically tailored to a younger crowd.

Roman Holiday (1953) - 9/10 Classic romance at its best. I had heard on a podcast that this was the sexiest movie the guest had ever seen and while maybe not in the traditional sense of the word, I do get where they’re coming from. I was tearing up with just how lovely it all was, following a princess who runs away and spends the day with a man she meets in Rome (where it was shot on location), doing all the things she’s wanted to do but never could because of royal responsibilities. Fantastic performances from Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck who sell the chemistry of the characters so well.

F9 (2021) - 2/10 I’ve never seen any of the Fast & Furious movies and after watching the ninth in the series, I don’t want to. This is basically the Vin Diesel show; we watch him drive cars fast and punch people a lot. Wow! I don’t really understand what it (and forgive the pun) driving people to see these movies if they’re all in this same vein. As far as I can tell, F9 is the goofiest of the series so far and I’ll admit I had a chuckle or two at some of the truly implausible moments, such as a part where one of the team gets shot by about ten men with machine guns, yet manages to kill them all without being affected by the bullets… but overall, in this two-and-a-half-hour experience, I was largely bored.

Shaolin Soccer (2001) - 7/10 I love this movie! Shaolin Soccer is so much fun; it is goofy and out there and completely crazy, all by design. Steven Chow knew what he was making when he set out to craft this insane story of a group of guys using Kung-Fu to play football. The basic story itself is nothing new but it’s elevated by the infectious comedy and implausibility of what’s happening. Balls are kicked into space and across fields so fast the very ground is torn asunder. A man eats an egg off a dirty shoe. This is cinema.

Casino Royale (2006) - 7/10 I had seen a trailer at the cinema for the new Bond movie and I have to say, I’ve never really given 007 the time of day, aside from a few of the very first movies I’d tried watching a while ago. But the new trailer kind of got me hyped, so I wanted to watch all of the Craig era Bond movies, starting with Casino Royale. I had a great time! Even though there’s not loads of fighting or weapons or fast cars, the meat of the movie actually comes from this poker game Bond is playing against the villain, played brilliantly by Mads Mikkelsen. I was surprised to witness a bit of cock-and-ball torture in this 12-rated movie but I would be lying if I said it didn’t stick with me.

Quantum of Solace (2008) - 5/10 Immediately after Casino Royale, I jumped into the second of Daniel Craig’s Bond movies, Quantum of Solace. Sadly it’s quite weak, with not much going on aside from the general Bond fare. Mathieu Amalric’s villain lacked a lot of menace or motivation and generally, I’m not super worried about a brilliant story in a Bond movie, but even the action felt weak in this. Quantum of Solace didn’t exactly upset me but it failed to wow me in any way either. The saving grace of the movie is certainly Daniel Craig as the hero, capturing Bond and what he’s supposed to be.

Skyfall (2012) - 6/10 A marked improvement from its predecessor, Sam Mendes helms Skyfall, Craig’s third outing as Bond. Skyfall delves into Bond’s past as he seems to be slipping a bit, not as much the expert operative he once was. It would have been nice to see more of his fall from grace, as they don’t really show us how he’s become less efficient as much as they give other characters expository dialogue telling us how he drinks and does drugs and is haunted by childhood trauma. For me, that’s where the meat of the story lies and I would have preferred more of a character piece if indeed they were delving into that side of the character anyway. That being said, the fights are still better choreographed than the last instalment and the colour grading and scenery is often very visually interesting. Everything in Skyfall is better than its predecessor and it’s surely thanks to Sam Mendes who does a great job at directing.

Howl's Moving Castle (2004) - 8/10 Another go round for Howl's Moving Castle, as this was a recommendation for my podcast, The Sunday Movie Marathon. My opinion, I feel, is unchanged. It's a fantastic film, and you can listen to more of what I have to say in episode 37. The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 2 - 3/10 A pretty poor end to a poor series of movies. I'm surprised I've watched the Twilight movies as many times as I have but I also know I'll watch them again. Part 2 I watched with the YMS commentary track on YouTube which, again made the experience a lot better. But otherwise the series seemed to get better as it went along… until the last movie. Ultimately my biggest problem with it is that nothing actually happens and the plot feels like a late addition rather than a natural progression of the story. It’s basically a whole movie of set-up to a payoff that doesn’t even canonically happen. A big thing with YA adaptations in this era was making a final book into two movies, regardless as to whether it needed that much time or not. Breaking Dawn does not need to be two movies at two hours each. About ten new characters are introduced here and the film is afraid of killing even one of them off. It's the last movie! We're not going to see these characters again! Kill some of them! There's just no emotional weight to any of it and I hate to say I was disappointed with the ending because I have such low expectations for these films but man, this was so unsatisfying.

Frances Ha (2012) - 8/10 Life is hard. And I hate this movie because it shows me so much of what terrifies me about being alive. And I love this movie because it shows me so much of what I’m alive for. Noah Baumbach’s brutally honest depiction of growing up and fending for yourself struck me in a way I wasn’t expecting and I think it’s because I’m at a point in my life where I’m worrying a lot about how it’s all going to turn out. The titular character is burdened with the stress of working low-paid jobs and paying rent while juggling school and making time for her passion of dancing as she tries to connect with people she’s lost, as temporary friends and housemates come and go. She feels like a lonely character despite often being around a lot of people. Frances Ha is fantastic and heartbreaking and uplifting… but it made me feel bad so I hate it.

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 years

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Sisterly Hug

Note: Started writing this when I couldn’t fall asleep one night, and I ended up thinking of you, friend. Just you, @partialdignity.

Since it’s not June 30th by the time I post this, eh. I’ll say it anyway.

Happy Birthday, Carim. Just remember, even in the anxiety-filled moments, that I appreciate you and love you platonically, okay? Besides, it’s hard for Be Vy to lie these days. :)

I did my best to write Rem based on your Bonds {Redux} and this image Pan shared a while back. Otherwise, here’s the song I was listening to while writing. Please listen to it while reading, friend. :)

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

It wasn’t the first time Vy found herself quiet. It wouldn’t be the last either, where her voice would be the first thing to leave her from exhaustion. As much as things were slightly easier now that Chaldea had a home again in the Wandering Sea, it didn’t change the main situation at hand.

The Crypters were still at large, the Foreign God was a threat that couldn’t be ignored, and the Lostbelts couldn’t be left alone forever.

It didn’t stop Vy from feeling like someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. Maybe she should’ve taken Robin’s suggestion of napping earlier, just to have more energy for later things, such as cooking practice with Arturia. It would’ve prevented the current situation where she felt like a zombie stumbling throughout Novum Chaldea in an attempt to find somewhere comfy to be. Magic energy drain wasn’t fun, especially when she was starting to get used to it on a daily basis. Mom and Dad would probably be having a heart attack, not to mention Mash and Goredolf.

But instead of resting in bed, Vy found herself barely hanging onto a whiteboard and a dry erase marker, gaze lingering on the only other Master in the Wandering Sea.

Rem didn’t flinch once Vy slowly flopped down to sit next to her on the only bench in the hallway, sparing a small glance from her Chaldea-brand tablet before going back to her screen of what looked like team compositions. “Vy,” Rem started softly, brushing a stray strand of curly blue hair behind her ear, “shouldn’t you be napping?”

Vy weakly raised her left hand to gently poke Rem’s shoulder through the sleeve of her mystic code, making sure Rem had her attention on Vy’s whiteboard before uncapping her dry erase marker to scribble.

Can’t sleep yet, she eventually wrote, showing the words to Rem before taking her whiteboard back to write more. Saw you around and wanted to see how you were doing.

Even without raising her head, Vy could vaguely make out Rem’s fond exasperation through the shade of her long brown hair as a hand proceeded to nudge her shoulder in return. “I’m just planning for the next Lostbelt, Vy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” A quiet chuckle echoed in the hallway and it took Vy a few seconds too long to realize it was Rem who did it. “Too tired to use your voice?”

Vy took the cap of her dry erase marker, exposing the fuzzy eraser tip to wipe away at her whiteboard before pressing the marker to the surface again. Always get like this when there’s been too much prana use, Vy eventually “said,” weakly shrugging her shoulders. Hard to talk. Original Da Vinci gave me the board and marker. Something about it running without worry on ink refills. Vy stopped, considered, then erased her surface to finish her point with a shakier, Magic? Dr. Roman always smiled whenever I talked to him like this.

“Ah,” Rem said. A small pause followed, then the hand on her shoulder gently pushed again (almost as if saying, hey, no nodding off here, amiga) as Rem added, “What were you farming this time, mija?”

Embers and Blue Skill Gems, Vy wrote, doing her best to fight a particularly heavy blink of her eyes as warmth started to settle into her chest. Rem called her mija again. Maou-san and Nagetora-san needed a lot of them. And then there’s the two Nero-sans…

Writing the actual “dot dot dot” on the whiteboard seemed to have taken Rem out of whatever she was looking at because her shoulders were shaking and Vy could hear laughter even through the blank haze of her brain. “U-Understandable,” Rem said, snickering. “Mija, you seem to have a knack for getting all the Knight classes.”

Maybe? Vy wrote, slowly tilting her head up to look at her friend, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose enough to make Rem’s form appear blurry. From habit, Vy pushed them up to readjust her eyes before writing the next thought to come to mind. Dunno why Maou-san decided to visit and I can’t exactly speak for the Neros when Big Robin wasn’t happy about it, but it happened, so…

“The two Roman Kings could use a few lessons in humility and singing,” Rem agreed with another hastily hidden chuckle, her fingers proceeding to smooth out a wrinkle on the shoulder of Vy’s white dress. “But don’t let them know I said that.”

I won’t, Vy responded, raising her head to give Rem a small smile. I prefer hearing your voice, Daddy’s, or Mash’s instead. Vy did her best not to flush red as she carefully wrote after a second of thought, Maybe Big Robin’s voice too.

Rem paused, flushing a little at Vy’s whiteboard message before glancing at her with a curious look in her eyes. “Your dad sang?”

Enough to make all the girls at his community college like him, Vy “said”, a weak giggle echoing in her throat. English, Vietnamese, he was good at both. Japanese could be here-there, but it didn’t matter. He sang for Mommy at their wedding. “Lady in Red,” I think, from the 80s. Everyone in the family loved it.

“He must’ve been really good, then, if he did that much on their special day,” Rem said softly, a curious smile tugging at her lips. Her attention was nowhere along the tablet’s electronic display now. “But what about you, mija?”

Vy quietly tilted her head at her fellow Master, lowering her dry erase marker.

Rem could thankfully read the question in her eyes and shrugged, the smile widening enough to stretch her cheeks. “Don’t you sing too?”

…Kinda? Vy wrote, raising her free hand to wave it back and forth in the air once the message was fully written on her board. Practiced on my own. Watched Daddy sing a lot, but I'm not gonna do it now, though. For extra emphasis, Vy opened her mouth, and Rem watched as a very hoarse yet quiet “See?” left Vy’s throat. As soon as Vy said her part, she closed her mouth just as quickly, going back to her whiteboard with a faint pout. Talking takes energy, Vy eventually scribbled to Rem. So no singing.

“But you’re talking to me right now, mija,” Rem said teasingly.

Vy allowed herself a single vocalized “Muu” while choosing to scoot over and bump Rem’s shoulder with hers. You’re different, Vy eventually wrote after the tinge of “Ow” subsided from her upper arm. You’re cozy. You’re Chị Rem.

“Vy…” Rem trailed off for a moment, enough time to make Vy duck her head and wonder in a brief period of anxiety if she said something wrong, before a hand rested on top of her hair. “You never did explain what Chị meant in Vietnamese.”

It took almost the rest of Vy’s battery to catch herself from unintentionally dropping her marker. That’s…

Vy looked up at Rem past her hair, and Rem smiled at her. “Hm?”

Vy felt her cheeks flush with heat before she realized it, and in a bit of a flustered panic, she turned back to her whiteboard and willed all of her remaining energy into her marker-holding hand. Her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose from the resulting sweat didn’t even matter anymore.

A moment was all it took. Maybe even a minute or two if estimating.

Chị is a pronoun of sorts in Vietnamese, Vy eventually wrote in small lettering, sliding the whiteboard to Rem once she was done. It’s usually used for a young adult woman and/or someone you consider a sister. And you’ve been with me like a big sister, especially through the Lostbelts and everything else since, so…

Rem didn’t say anything for what felt like a long time, having put her tablet down to instead hold Vy’s whiteboard in her hands. Vy noticed how Rem’s brown eyes had stopped at the “sister” part of the message, lingering on the scrawled letters, and something in her chest tightened.

With the last free corner on the board not covered by Rem’s thumb, Vy gently tugged at it to scribble one last time to her fellow Master.

Could I hug you, Chị Rem?

Rem raised her head from her place having previously ducked her mouth into the dark collar of her Winter Chaldean Mystic Code, brown eyes wide. “Vy?”

With no space on the whiteboard left, Vy carefully opened her mouth again, ignoring the scratchiness of her throat. “P-Please?”

You look like you need one.

Rem closed her eyes, ducking her head to face the bench beneath the two of them in what appeared to be conflicted thought and/or consideration, and Vy tilted her head patiently.

“Chị Rem?” Vy tried faintly, ignoring the urge to blink.

Lines formed between Rem’s eyebrows as she proceeded to raise her head and give Vy an expression caught between what looked like tears and a bright, bright smile. “…A-As long as you get a nap afterwards,” Rem said finally, a tiny crick in her voice too as she reached out with her other arm, draping it over Vy’s shoulders. “Else Robin might have my head.”

Vy reached over with her arms too, wrapping them around Rem’s waist and feeling a sigh leave her lips once her forehead found a resting place in the collar of Rem’s Mystic Code. Warm. “H-He… won’t,” left her weakly as she squeezed. “Wanted to… be here…” It was getting harder to keep her eyes open by each passing second.

Wanted to be with you…

Still, above her head, Vy could feel Rem start to laugh, and she politely chose to ignore the wet droplets starting to soak the top of her hair. “You’re too nice, mija,” Rem murmured, a hand rubbing Vy’s back through her dress. Even in a sleepy haze, it was hard to miss Rem’s warm, “Thank you.”

In spite of all that, Vy wasn’t sure if she said “Aye” or not back.

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

The next thing Vy was vaguely aware of when opening her eyes again was the white ceilings of a Chaldean hallway. Her legs were limp, her arms felt heavy, and there was something vaguely blue and green in front of her…

Wait, was someone carrying her?

“You’re awake, Princess?”

The lack of any prana proved Vy’s voice was still not back in commission yet, and even opening her mouth seemed like a bad idea because a green-gloved hand was then reaching over to gently shush her with one pointer finger. “You pushed yourself too hard, Vy. What did Dr. Roman tell you about daily naps?”

Helps… Rejuvenate energy, Vy mustered with her mental voice.

Even without her glasses (did someone take them off?), it was obvious through the blurriness that Robin was smiling. “Good,” he said, lowering his hand to instead tug at the two mantles sitting atop Vy’s chest, and if not for the lack of prana, Vy felt tempted to squirm a little. When did the Servants get the chance to make a mantle burrito? “At least you remember that.”

Guilt dug into Vy’s heart before she found her voice again. I… missed my naptime, huh?

Nearby, Vy could vaguely hear Achilles start to whistle as a strand of blonde hair tickled her cheek. “You very much did, Princess,” Arturia said in a firm yet gentle voice, making herself known through the words and the steady hands holding Vy up underneath Vy’s shoulders and knees as they all continued to walk… well, wherever. “Rem was the one to alert us.”

Darn… I thought I could stay up a bit longer…

“Please don’t jinx it, little sparrow,” Robin Hood mused lightly, but Vy could sense the concern through their bond as his gloved hand proceeded to tuck Vy further into the blanket/mantle burrito of No Face May King and King Arthur’s cape. “The last thing we need is that red Archer having another aneurysm over you eating Saint Quartz instead of lunch just to keep grinding materials that are hard enough to find as is.”

It… saves Apples, eating Quartz, Vy thought, almost childishly too, as she rested her ear against Arturia’s shoulder. Got all the Embers at least. So Shirou shouldn’t complain… that much.

Vy didn’t even need her glasses to know all three of her Grailed Servant companions were rolling their eyes. “Doesn’t help,” Achilles quipped dryly for all of them. “You’re our Master and Princess, Vy. Start cherishing yourself better. Melted glass isn’t a good meal for anyone, even if it's magic and not going to give you a stomachache anytime soon.”

Muu.

Robin’s gloved hand was then there in her face, and Vy barely moved once a pointer finger was gently poking her forehead. “No cute noises of protest from you.”

Muu, Vy thought anyway.

Once Arturia was giving Vy a look past Robin’s hand, though, Vy amended it with a softer, Gonna try to do better. A second later, Vy turned her head to look up at the King of Knights and opened her mouth again. “Art… san?” left her throat in a weak kind of squeak, but in spite of the volume, it was enough to get the Saber’s attention since Arturia’s stern look had dropped for one of concern and fond wonder, green irises warm in Vy’s direction.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where’s…” Vy coughed a little, shutting her eyes once her body finally decided to let all the fatigue from the day’s efforts come crashing down. Chị Rem? Still need to bake her another cake… bled through their mental connection instead.

Above her head, Vy could vaguely make out Robin and Achilles sharing some kind of look, but instead of an immediate reply, Arturia simply smiled, a chuckle rumbling through her chest armor as the hands on Vy’s figure shifted, lifting her up enough for a forehead to touch hers.

“You’re too kind for all of us, Princess,” Arturia whispered softly. “And your Chị Rem will be fine. Bake today or another day, I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.”

All Vy could do at that moment was smile back. “Aye,” finally left her mouth in her best attempt to reassure the Saber carrying her. Gonna do my best, she eventually thought to herself, holding onto the sentiments so that the other Servants wouldn’t get worried. Need to… make big sis happy.

It was another promise.

#short story #mastersona vy #rem #birthday gift #writing #passing days #fate grand order #based on real life experiences #long post #arturia pendragon #achilles #robin hood

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heli0s-writes · 4 years

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winter dreams

Summary: Six months after a perfect summertime kiss, you see him again in time for the new year. Music: Death Cab for Cutie - I Dreamt We Spoke Again

Pairing: Reader/Bucky

A/N: 2.1k words. Pining & Soft Bucky. Holiday fluff. TW: references to cancer

A follow up to summer skin but it’s not necessary to read it first. This was written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan‘s Merry Kismet Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for hosting! The prompt is “You owe me a kiss.”

It’s cold.

December reaches your childhood home in disappointing periods of drizzling rain hitting windowpanes, fogging the insides gray with the house’s heat. Brief winter winds ice the city, never quite enough to flurry like how it did in New York.

Yet somehow, it feels colder here.

You bundle up all over when it sinks into your bones. Blankets and two pairs of wool socks, knitted hats and gloves indoors, still rattling, falling lovesick and not participating in festivities.

Your sisters chide the melancholy, ask you to cheer up, tell you it’s the most wonderful time of the year incoming. Tinsel and allspice, brown sugar candles and the crisp snap of pine. A real tree propped up by the fireplace, topped by a burning red star.

You miss him.

The ornament glows his sigil and, you miss him.

Miss his eyes. His hands. Miss his damn shadow.

Thanksgiving had tasted like wet sand. The turkey and cranberries a mush of pulp. Basting and seasoning, rosemary and garlic, rubbing all manners of things down with butter… and in the end, no matter how you tried, the last six months crumbled like ash in your mouth.

Your father’s illness and subsequent recovery bloomed relief but it was still too soon. There was one more round of radiation and then, it would be over. The cloak of death could finally be ripped down, hung up elsewhere to shrivel and flee; he’d finally be free of cancer.

Six months after sweltering summer kisses on a dock and you were still sick with longing for Bucky. He calls rarely because your civilian life can’t bleed into your hero life; you’re the only one with family—the only one with a possible hostage situation.

Two conversations, maybe. With his low timbre saying hello. Don’t know when I’ll see you, but I’ll dream of you until I do. And the sadness in your gut volleys into hope—careens itself into balmy spring and the taste of his tongue on yours. The only reprieve you receive is in darkness, when you might be lucky enough to find him under a clear June sky, the two of you meeting in the middle of a midnight yearning.

The days between Christmas and New Years smear together. A foggy mess of unknown hours and habits, waking and sleeping all blurring into some kind of purgatory overcrowded with glazed ham leftovers and candles with names like Twisted Peppermint and Merry Berry.

A steaming mug is slid over the frosted windowsill on the 30th. Your youngest sister plops down on the sofa seat with a hum, pulling striped red and green sock encased knees up to her chest. Mind-reading. That connection between siblings.

“You go.” She states casually, and it takes you by surprise. “Dad’s doing well. You go. World needs you and all.”

Under a heavy quilt, you’re already quivering with preemptive heartbreak. A sip of your drink and the beginning of a protest before she puts up her hand, “We’ll be fine.” Then, a smirk and a roll of her eyes, “Figures. You finally fall for a guy and he’s probably Captain America.”

You bite your smile down and stay silent.

Voicemail. Even the automated tone repeating his phone number before the shrill beep gives you butterflies. War drums echoing from your chest. The practiced message you ran through your head sounds stupid no matter how many times you rehearse it. No matter how many times you’ve dreamt of him and this moment.

“H-hey... I, uh, I’m heading to the compound. Uh. Well, I think I’ll be there in time for tomorrow night’s party. Can’t wait to see you, Buck.”

A string of the dumbest syllables ever known to man.

The commons room is aglow when you arrive. Soft and brilliant in orange and yellow, warming up the darkness of dimmed lights. There are at least three trees on your way in, lit up with gold, then blue, then silver for the third, overflowing with ribbon and sparkling garland. Hand-blown glass ornaments refract a rainbow array of hues. There is fake snow in a trail flanking the velvet red carpet running inside, shaped meticulously so that it imitates a snowbank to perfection. Soft music hums from deeper in, harps and violins, and the smell of the fireplace crackling spiced woody notes soothes your bones.

Pepper’s outdone herself heralding in the New Year. You’ll have to apologize for dripping water all the way in, pelted by snow and shuddering head to toe.

It’s flurrying in New York, alright. Your chattering teeth are a testament to the temperature.

Natasha’s the first to see you by the entrance. A raise of her champagne class and you grin shyly, stepping in, wet boots tracking to the bar. Steve beams and rushes across the room, nicking off his conversation with a fan in the middle, throwing his arms around you for a hug.

“He’s in D.C.—does he know you’re— Christ, where’s your coat?"

You shake your head and quiet your trembling as you take in Steve’s pressed denim shirt and his slacks and hair neatly combed to one side. Clean shaven and handsome, twinkling eyes as he holds tight. Your shoes are dripping onto his and you chuckle, “I forgot it—too eager, I suppose.”

The gown you pulled on at the airport is an old one—silvery lavender with thin trails of sparkling tinsel. Worn once during an undercover mission near New Mexico and then hung up to sway limply in your sister’s closet because it was too beautiful to discard even though it smelled like gunpowder. The excitement of your arrival was too pressing that you’d forgotten the right shoes. Boots it is—black and clunky, the kind you’d prefer to have on in a fight.

“He’ll be mad you’re not dressed for the weather.” A silly grin as if Steve’s hiding a secret. Then, a single raise of his sandy brow as he looks down. The gossamer hem a darker purple as it sways over your shoes. “But maybe you can go barefoot for tonight.”

Sam is elated when he arrives, pulling you into a spin before his hand clasps onto yours and he sways all the way to the middle of the dance floor. It’s like you never left as he chatters on, making you laugh and cry, his steps goading the band to play faster accompaniments.

Three songs in and you’re reminded of how tired you are from the trip. Your feet are freezing on the tile and so you lead Sam to the couches, accepting a drink from Natasha’s hand before leaning into her, tingling toes tucked beneath your thighs. She plays with your hair, rubs your shoulder, and whispers that it hasn’t been the same without you.

“I remember this dress. We got into some trouble that mission.” And you know that look even without seeing it. Half-smirk, eyebrow up, the Natasha trademark.

You laugh at the memory. Gunpowder from her Beretta and the skirt hiked up to reveal your own pistol strapped tightly to your thigh. Beneath it had been a knife. Overkill, you’d thought, but it came in handy anyway.

“James will appreciate your sentimentality.”

The two of you had played lovers, and it was easy slipping into the role. Your heart flutters at the memory and how nervous you had been when his hand caressed yours at the auditorium entrance. He had bent over and whispered that you looked beautiful, and you snorted in return—a broken noise of disbelief.

“We missed you.” Natasha blows into your ear playfully, “You won’t believe how annoyingly long he sulked. If he’s not here at midnight, you’re getting a kiss from me.”

“Woah. I’m gonna kiss her.” Sam protests, leaning forward dramatically.

You turn to Steve with a grin, waiting for his bid but he only puts his hands up, palms faced outward. “Not me. I’m not trying to get into any fights with Buck. Had enough of that for a while, if none of you remember.”

A few more minutes of chatting and you dismiss your friends, shooing them back to their company and unwilling to take up any more of their time.

New Year’s Eve and you certainly can’t be the most interesting person here, you say. Check out the band, gosh, there’s a celebrity—and Tony, sweeping in with gusto to shoot a comment about how he didn’t even notice you were back but that your room is still in pristine condition, if you were wondering.

And you weren’t, but you thank him anyway with a wink.

11:50 and the back wall is glaring a projected image of the NYC ball drop. You stifle a yawn behind your hand, leaning over the couch lazily. Guests come and go, welcome you back, and you’re always a little startled when another stranger flits by to say hello and thank you. Everyone blurs together in a rush of sparkling cream gowns and silk suits.

11:55 and your eyes are shuttering close, cheekbone resting upon your palm.

11:58 and a hand is skimming up your arm, softly prodding, but you’re too tired to move.

Cheers and whoops. It’s so loud. Music crescendoes, Natasha placing a peck on your cheek along with a blanket over your shoulders and you reply with a wilted little smile. Then, you return to a familiar sweetened coffee black dream of someone tall and soft-spoken.

You jolt from the stupor with a gasp. The room has emptied and darkened, only lit by the soft glow of the projector spinning starry images. The blanket from your shoulders has slipped off some time ago, gathering to pool at your feet. Blinking sluggishly, you realize you’re no longer leaned against your palm on the edge of the couch.

Dusky pine and leather. Faint cool aftershave and the vital heartbeat of warm boy. Something heavy and buttery soft draped over your previously cold shoulders.

Another dream.

Yet, it feels more corporeal than ever before and the drumming in your chest strikes a thrilled beat. Your hands wildly pat him up and down, drawing forth his sweet laugh at your antics. You don’t stop, though, running up the neoprene vest, the straps buckled over his torso, his strong jaw and chin. Then hair, those long chestnut strands lightly curled at the edges, grown a little longer and tucked loosely behind his ears.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, honey.”

You bristle in disbelief, distracted by the realization with some embarrassment that you’ve been sleeping on top of him for who knows how long. Stupid syllables stuck like caramel chews in your mouth, welding your teeth together in a solid disappointment. After spending six months dreaming about seeing him again, now you’re finally here and you’ve got nothing to say. Bucky lifts his chin to place atop your head, pressing kisses down and chills race to your fingertips and toes.

“Nat said she kissed you at midnight,” Bucky muses, and you can just hear him smiling how he does when he thinks he’s done something clever. “And what about me? You owe me a kiss, unless you’re all done with kissin’ for the night?” His gloved finger traces your chin, thumb pad rubbing over your nose, lifting your gaze until you’re staring up into his eyes.

Blue, blue, blue, like milky ways dipped in a cerulean sea. Behind his head the cosmos continue to spiral, outlining him in silver and starlight. He is beautiful in the night, brighter than suns. You want to sob and say Bucky, Bucky, if I’m sleeping don’t wake me.

Cheekiness snuffs itself out as he tilts his head with a smile, eyes roaming over your expression curiously. A statement begins in the silence of his thumb caressing your cheek, then brow, then making a path down to your bottom lip, skimming over the edge.

He punctuates it with a press of his mouth to yours. Hand moving to latch onto your jaw, then neck, then cradling your head between two and your heart hurdles all the way to the finish line.

“Missed you.” He murmurs, “Missed you a lot.” Licks to your lips and you vaguely wonder when he learned how to sweep you completely off your feet. Bucky tugs on the lapels of his jacket around your shoulder, crushing your torso to his. After six months of longing and anguish, you could float away if he wasn’t holding on so tightly.

“You look beautiful. Always thought so.” Fingers rub the lavender tulle and he smiles. You didn’t believe him then, the night Bucky complimented you and yanked the knife from its strap. “Like a dream.”

Now, you know he means it.

“Happy New Year, honey.”

Bucky pulls you fully into his lap, solid beneath your hands and flush against your torso. Real. Real. Real.

Winter rages on outside. Wrapped up in him, here, now, finally, you’ve never felt warmer.

“Happy New Year, Bucky.”

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #ldmkwc

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marauderssequels · 4 years

Text

the petunia timeline

petunia evans is a character that I think had a lot of potential. I cannot at all commend the person she became as petunia dursley, and I wish so much that she had looked just a little harder in her heart to find space for harry. I can’t forgive her for the nearly two decades of abuse and neglect she inflicted on harry. still, like peter pettigrew and severus snape, she was a child once, before she grew into the horrible woman harry knew. so, who was petunia evans?

Part One: The Evans In Canon

the evans family is a difficult thing to find canon information on. the best we’ve dug up so far is a statement from an interview rowling made when answering if harry’s grandparents were killed. her exact words about the evans were, “...because I do like my backstory: Petunia and Lily’s parents, normal Muggle death.” now, kindly prepare for some english-major bullshit.

death. not deaths, plural. (yes, obviously this is a minute detail, but there’s really not much else to go on.) if the parents had suffered separate deaths, it should’ve been plural. keeping this noun singular suggests that one event took both parents out at once, leaving them both to experience one collective death.*

so, what collective death might they have suffered? well, considering that petunia wasn’t the most imaginative person, let’s remember that the explanation that she gave harry for his parents’ death was a car crash. that certainly fits our requirements for one event taking two people out at the same time, and it qualifies as a “normal Muggle death”. it’s not a far stretch to assume petunia took her answer for harry straight from the way her own parents died.

we know they were dead by the time lily and james died, due to petunia being lily’s only living relative for harry to go to. the conclusion we’ve drawn for petunia’s birth year (which we’ll explain in a later addition to this post) is 1957, three years before lily’s birth. going by british law, if lily’s parents had died before she was eighteen, she would’ve required a legal guardian until she was of age. (remember, 17 is only considered “of age” for wizards, something the muggle government wouldn’t be taking into consideration). since I cannot imagine rowling made the question of legal guardianship a part of lily’s narrative, we’ll set the parameters of her parents’ death for sometime after she had come of age in the eyes of muggle britain but before lily’s death.

lily would turn eighteen on january 30th, 1978, during her final year at hogwarts. her death occurred on october 31st, 1981. that leaves roughly three years for the accident to take place in.

this understanding is important to petunia’s story mainly because these parameters mean she would not be pulled into any sort of court situation regarding lily’s legal guardianship status. her story, according to pottermore, is that she left cokeworth behind forever, which suggests to us that she never once returned. obviously in the real world, this could’ve meant that she moved out permanently but still returned for visits. considering this is coming from rowling, a woman who tends to write in absolutes, it’s more likely to be the “never returning” option. this means that dealing with funeral arrangements, identifying bodies, and putting her parents’ affairs in order were not responsibilities she handled, since that would’ve entailed a return to the town she detested. instead, by the time lily turned eighteen, petunia was already married to vernon dursley and had decidedly left her life there behind. for all intents and purposes, she would’ve considered herself a dursley first and an evans not at all.

we’ll discuss this chapter of the sisters’ lives later; for now, it’s enough to have a rough idea for when petunia’s parents died. not much other information was ever provided about the parental evans, but here’s what we know:

initially, when the girls were younger, mrs. evans told lily she wasn’t allowed to use her magic. after the revelation that lily’s magic made her special, entitling her to attend a wizarding school and study to become a competent witch, both parents were thrilled. the magical world enchanted them both, and lily receives nothing but support from her parents after her acceptance to hogwarts.

young petunia could already identify class, drawing contrasts and divides between her family and the snapes. one of the first insults she punished severus with was a comment on his poor-quality clothing. she knew he came from an impoverished neighborhood and that hers was better, even if not by much. she used that information to immediately cast him in a negative light. she also had the social awareness to ensure no one was around to see lily’s magic, and to detect the insult in the word “muggle” without understanding what it meant. lily being nine years old, petunia would’ve been around twelve, so this social awareness and prideful classist view likely came from her home environment.

while the evans are hardly likely to have been as bad as the malfoys, this is evidence that petunia’s parents placed a great deal of importance on social status. lily only ever mentions her friends questioning her friendship with snape, not her family, so her parents weren’t so extreme to the point of outright forbidding her association with people of a lower status. it’s possible petunia’s younger years saw an economical shift downwards for her parents, leaving her with great pride and a snobbish attitude even once her circumstances turned less fortunate, while lily only ever remembers those circumstances.

moving forward to the next canon information we have concerning petunia, she left cokeworth for london, where she took a typing course. our assumption here is that she left after graduating secondary school, around the age of eighteen or so. once she had her diploma and was a legal adult, she would’ve moved out as soon as possible, to escape the life she hated and the family that favored lily and her magical gifts. assuming she and lily are three years apart, she would’ve left most likely the summer before lily’s fifth or sixth year at hogwarts.

from there, she found an office job, likely at grunnings, the drilling company where vernon was a junior executive, since they met at work. he proposed while lily was in her seventh year at hogwarts, so the engagement took place after lily left for school on september 1st, 1977. they were married by the end of the year and settled into a house together (as petunia tells harry in the first deathly hallows movie that she’s lived in that house for twenty years, during the summer of 1997). this is another part of her story that makes knowing the date of her parents’ death important; because we’ve determined they didn’t die until after january the following year, we know mr. and mrs. evans would have attended petunia’s wedding.

at some point before the wedding but after the proposal, petunia told vernon about lily’s magic. the couple met lily and james for dinner at a muggle restaurant, though the meeting didn’t end well. still, both were invited to the wedding, despite lily pointedly not being made a bridesmaid. afterwards, petunia appears to have sent a present for christmases, and likely birthdays as well, considering that she and vernon generally gave harry at least some type of horrible present for his birthdays. it’s probable lily returned the favor, sending christmas and birthday presents to petunia.

despite being invited, petunia and vernon didn’t attend lily’s wedding. around the autumn of 1979, both evans sisters became pregnant. petunia’s son dudley was born on june 23rd, 1980, just a month before harry’s birth on july 31st. harry’s birth announcement was the last communication petunia ever received from lily (besides the christmas presents they exchanged) before lily’s death the following year on october 31st, 1981. petunia wasn’t aware of her passing until november 2nd, when she discovered her sister’s son on her doorstep along with a letter from albus dumbledore explaining the circumstances of lily’s death and harry’s need for her as his guardian.

this is where the story picks up ten years later in the original series. this is also where our understanding of petunia’s life turns entirely from evidenced speculation and canon to headcanon and theory, unfortunately. in later additions to this post, we’ll explore our theories on petunia’s parents, as well as how her dynamic with lily changed through the years and how her character serves as a mirror to severus’s. already, we’ve made a lot of speculations based on british law, rowling’s writing, and petunia’s character, as well as lily’s, but this first part of her timeline will serve as the canon upon which we’ll be building the rest of her character. any ideas and suggestions for the evans family are more than welcome!

*obviously, this interpretation leans heavily on two large assumptions. firstly, we’re relying on the transcription of the interview having correctly recorded her words, as the link to the original video source is broken. secondly, this conclusion also requires trusting that rowling implements this basic rule of grammar into her everyday speech. any native speaker of english could probably tell you that in day-to-day language, we don’t tend to follow every single rule 100% of the time, as long as our basic meaning can be understood. considering our other deliberate deviations from her canon, however, I think it’s enough to acknowledge the reasoning behind our interpretation of her words and move on.

#petunia evans #petunia dursley #lily evans #vernon dursley #james potter #evans family #potter family #hp canon #hp meta #harry potter #hp fandom

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