#just felt so unfinished to me. i tend to avoid it like i avoid stray flying roaches in the subways. so...! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeor-yeona · 6 days

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the whiskey teaser

pairing: stray kids han jisung x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol use, implied drinking and driving (nothing bad happens), 3rd person, reader is bi/pan, spelling/grammar issues

word count: 1463

a/n: this is just a teaser for now but it's been sitting unfinished in my google docs for months lol if anyone likes it i might complete it!! the plan was around 15-20k so its gonna be a bit of a slow burn,,, not much is happening rn but feel free to comment any suggestions pls be constructive tho :)

Looking around the establishment for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, you swirled around your glass, relishing in the clinks made when the hard rock of ice met the delicate glass containing it. You’d come here looking for a distraction, anything to pique your interest for even an instant; to bring anything else to the forefront of your mind just long enough to ease the load of your thoughts. And to no avail. A few people had come up to you, trying to spark a conversation, with and without ulterior motives. You’d indulge them, albeit speaking only a few words at a time before they had lost your interest and you let them know that.

The first was a man, slicked-back hair and a get-up far too fancy for the environment. He called you beautiful, offered you a drink, and you obliged him. Asking for the most expensive thing sold there just to see his expression. Before you could even get a sip in he was on a tirade about his oh-so-important job as a CEO or CFO or some other acronym with a ‘C’. As hard as you tried to engage in the conversation, he never gave you the opportunity, ending every story he had about his “terrible employees” with a ‘right?’ or ‘you know?’ and then continuing on without leaving you a second to even nod in agreement.

It got old fast and soon you were right back in your head, thoughts moving a mile a minute toward the one thing you wanted to avoid thinking about. Then he asked, “Are you even listening to me?” You responded with a blunt, “No.” Earning a scowl from him as you now became the object of his scornful speech. He called you a “gold-digging bitch” and a slew of other things that people tend to find offensive. But you didn’t care, why should you? He was a stuck-up asshole who doesn’t know how to have a decent conversation. The only thing you’d gained from the exchange was an overpriced drink, which you continued to drink as he kept yelling, bringing unwanted attention to the two of you. By then you couldn’t even make out what names he was calling you as his voice faded into the background. You couldn’t tell how long it had continued either until he finally stormed off, ushered away by the staff, still muttering under his breath.

You were a little glad for being a regular at this point, getting kicked out of the bar would have been a terrible way to end your night.

Maybe 10, 15 minutes passed before another person came up, trying to get your attention. This time a woman, in a lacey black dress and racing jacket. The way she looked at you with those bright blue contacts, made you somewhat uncomfortable, but she was decent enough conversation. She mentioned she was from out of town, visiting for a funeral, here looking to have a little fun before heading back home. You almost would have taken her up on her many offers to do so, if not for the way she spoke to the bartender after he supposedly made her drink wrong. When she turned back to you, you made some excuse about being busy later that night, the first thing that popped into your head and she got the memo. Leaving you without another word.

The others that came and went weren’t as interesting, quickly repulsing you in one way or another, but you’d determined yourself to stay a little while longer. In hopes that you’d find someone, something to do. Though it was in vain.

You downed the rest of your drink, delighting in the warmth it brought to your core. You gathered your things, giving a final nod to the bartender before leaving the building.

Seeing the patter of raindrops hitting the glass doors, you pulled an umbrella out of your bag, opening it as you stepped out. It was a short stroll to your car, only two or three blocks away, but long enough to shake away any last remnants of alcohol that may be clouding your judgment.

You walked slowly, basking in the sights around you, people running into buildings, failing to prevent themselves from getting soaked, cars zooming by, splashing puddles that had been created in potholes, storm drains sucking in as much water as they could, making tiny whirlpools. You remembered loving these sights as a child, loving the feeling of jumping around in said puddles, not loving the wet socks you ended up with after. But you kept walking, brushing off the nostalgic feelings growing in your heart, you didn’t deserve to enjoy it.

You reached a crosswalk, the light was red and the speed of the vehicles before you, even in this weather, was enough to discourage you from continuing anyway. As you waited, you heard a sound, it was a sniffle, you weren’t sure if you were imagining it or if it was you yourself.

You turned your head towards the origin and there stood, well sat really, a man. His head was rested in his arms, held up by his knees. His wavy brown hair glistened under the street lamps, clinging to the sides of his face. He was decidedly underdressed for the weather, with an oversized white t-shirt, that too clung to him from the rain, and a pair of light-wash ripped jeans.

For some reason, you couldn’t turn away from the sight. You wanted to know why. Why he was sitting out here in the rain, weeping so hard his body shook. So hard it shook even the furthest reaches of your heart.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the light change and the cars come to a stop. You should have minded your business, you should have walked across the street and went home to wallow in misery, you should have, but you didn’t. Instead, taking cautious steps toward the man, until you were right before him. You stuck out your arm, shielding him from the downpour with your umbrella, unflinching as the cool droplets now soaked into your attire.

You stood there for a few seconds, not uttering a word. You hadn’t even known why you’d done this to begin with. No, you knew.

You couldn’t convince yourself you did it out of the kindness of your heart. This was selfish, an indulgent way to prove you weren’t like the people you’d seen earlier today, like the people who hurt him. It wasn't entirely true, but excuses exist for a reason.

He looked up at you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Even through his questioning stare, his eyes were bloodshot. He must have been here for a while.

You held the umbrella closer to him, a wordless offering. Still obviously confused, he took it. And you took your opportunity to swiftly leave, walking with more purpose now as you crossed the busy street seconds before the light switched back to green and the engines of the cars, now behind you, roared to life.

You could feel eyes on you as you walked steadily up the street, probably his, but you didn't turn around to check.

Finally reaching your car, you pulled your keys out of your bag, unlocking the door with a beep. You got in quickly, putting the key in the ignition and turning the heat to max. Maybe giving your umbrella to a stranger in the middle of what was basically a monsoon, wasn't the best idea. You sat there warming up for a few minutes before clicking on your seatbelt and taking off.

The ride back home was calm, rather than turning on music to drown out your thoughts like you normally would, you embraced the sound of raindrops hitting against the windshield and the hum of the engine. The brake lights before you reflecting off the ground creating a sea of red. The distraction usually bothered you, but now, all you could do was revel in its beauty.

Even when someone cut you off, you weren't all that angry. Rather than honking or muttering curses under your breath, you simply made space for them and went on as if it never happened.

Would it be overdramatic to describe this feeling as euphoric? You were soaked down to your underwear, fans blowing at max speed, making your eyes water so that you had to blink them back, lights reflecting off the wet surfaces almost blinding you. But you weren't mad at it.

It felt easier to embrace the negative knowing that even though your day failed, you may have made someone else's a little better. “Should I start doing stuff like this more often?” you whispered to yourself.

home ✿ masterlist

#han x reader #han jisung x reader #han x you #han x y/n #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #skz han #skz han jisung #skz x reader #skz imagines #han fanfic #han jisung #han jisung fanfic

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

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Side Effects- Part 2

M/F Pairing: Y/N X Stray Kids (Multiple Pairings)

Word Count: 4K

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood, violence, mentions of smut, and language...Oh, and 3racha are kinda rude...

Summary: Sometimes, we can’t escape the past.

“You look beautiful today, Y/N.”

I blushed, of course, from Mark’s tender compliment. “Thank you,” I managed sheepishly, watching as my boss offered me a cheeky smile before entering his office.

Ever since I left the Miroh Coven, I had been working a part-time position as the Secretary to a wealthy CEO. I didn’t mind my job, enjoying the menial tasks I was usually instructed to obey. It was quite mind-numbing, a worthy distraction when I first started working here hollowing the horrors I had endured from the Miroh Coven. The pay was excellent and I was able to help my roommate afford rent while reliably buying myself luxuries like a new mattress or a fresh wardrobe since my old clothes reminded me too much of the past.

The hours were also minimal, and I often found myself sitting down at my desk only to look up at the clock and realize my day had already concluded. Subsequently, I was able to leave the office on time every day to join the steady stream of afternoon traffic. Afterward, I might stop by a restaurant to pick up something for dinner, or occasionally drive through the downtown marketplace because I enjoyed shopping for fresh produce. It was all quite nice and I enjoyed settling into my new life with a deep sigh of relief.

It had almost been nine months since I last saw any of the boys and other than the unfortunate encounter with Chan’s necklace, I was sure that I would never have to experience anything so unattractive ever again. I was slowly regaining my confidence, joining my roommate several times when she wanted to see a movie or shop at one of the outdoor malls. Everything was starting to work out for me, which meant that I was also starting to comfortably take more risks.

“Please have fun tonight,” my roommate said, practically dragging me along with her as we entered one of her favorite clubs. After much convincing, I had finally given in and allowed my roommate to take me out late at night for drinks and dancing. “This is a nice place,” she said, leading me to the bar. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

I nodded my head, looking around the relaxed atmosphere. It was certainly a much tamer club than what I was used to visiting, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Of course, the influence of alcohol had a way of making a person far more willing to lower their defenses. “One glass,” I said, accepting the fruity beverage from the bartender before my roommate and I found a table near the edge of the dancefloor.

“So many handsome faces,” my roommate remarked. “Interested in anyone?”

I scoffed at her question because I seriously doubted that I would willingly jump into a new relationship anytime soon. “Really?”

“Just wondering,” my roommate shrugged, drinking down the remainder of her scotch. “Wanna dance?”

I waved her off, deciding that I was okay with enjoying my drink at our table. My roommate let out a giggle, locking eyes with a suave businessman who looked ready to devour her whole. “I’ll check on you soon,” she promised and I quickly lost her in the mass of bodies occupying the dance floor.

I rolled my eyes because I knew better than to expect my roommate’s return. Instead, I sipped at my drink while admiring the friendly atmosphere of the bar, neon colors dazzling in my peripheral vision. It reminded me of my younger college days when I was swept away by the illusion of freedom which independent adulthood offered, attending every frat party I could find.

I grinned at the memories, feeling way too old to try anything like that ever again. It was fun once, being so irresponsible, but now it was time to start paying bills and scratch my head when I attempted to do my taxes. Freedom was addicting, and I could see why so many younger people were enamored with the idea of moving away from home and conquering the world.

Wistfully, I must digress because I often lose myself in my thoughts, and I can’t afford a break in concentration. Instead, I sipped tentatively at my drink, watching the moving sea of bodies. I was entirely focused, which allowed me to raise my guard at the approach of an unfamiliar figure.

“Excuse me? Do you have the time?”

I shrugged loosely because it was an innocent request from someone who clearly wasn’t looking for anything ill-intended. On instinct, I reached into my bag to grab my phone. “It’s almost midnight,” I said, thinking that our interaction would be short-lived.

Instead, the man was insistent, a cold hand digging harshly against my shoulder. “Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to stay up so late, sweetheart?”

The accent had been disguised, but now I recognized it thick and heavy in my ear. I couldn’t even remember to scream before his hand was enclosed over my mouth, teeth nipping at my jaw. Another body slipped into my roommate’s chair, brows raised as he reached for her discarded glass. “Is there room for some company, Y/N?” Jisung asked, blonde hair hanging low in his eyes.

I shook my head desperately, fresh tears clouding my vision. “Where are your manners, sweetheart?” Chan asked with a harsh tone and I was suddenly jerked to the side, a strong hand holding my chin into place.

“What a coincidence, Y/N,” Changbin growled. “We have unfinished business in this little town of yours.”

“You’re coming with us,” Chan said, ignoring the way I fought against him as he practically forced me out of my chair. “Look at me,” he snarled, eyes trained on mine as I started to drift out of consciousness.

I was slowly starting to realize that the implications of being a sire went far beyond just simply turning someone immortal. For example, I knew how cruel Changbin could be, turning violent on a whim, especially if you disobeyed him. He was the one who liked to punish me when he thought I was being bad, dragging out all sorts of special toys to use against my body. Paddles and lashes, whips and spikes, everything Changbin needed was lined perfectly along the walls of the special room he had decorated for himself whenever he wanted to play with someone. He was a sadist in every sense of the word, enjoying the sensation of watching someone suffer for his own pleasure. When he had first brought me into the room, I had immediately protested, close to tears when Changbin had cooed at me and insisted that I would never be forced to do anything outside of my comfort zone. He spoke with a wicked tongue, dark eyes revealing the truth if I had been so willing to look for it, but I eventually allowed him to have his way with me. Tears streaming freely down the side of my face while Changbin’s tongue traced the salty rivulets with a groan.

But Changbin wasn’t the only one with a fiery temper and desire for pain and suffering. His fledgling vampires, Felix and Hyunjin, had decisively taken on his more brutal aspects. Felix lost control whenever I said something to offend him, growling out insults while I tried to avoid his hands. Hyunjin had special permission to use Changbin’s secret room to explore his own masochism, and I had accidentally wandered into one of his sessions at the beginning of our arrangement before things had turned sexual between us. I remember the look of existential terror on the girl’s face that I had foolishly misplaced as pleasure, crying out not in ecstasy but in pain.

On the other hand, Jisung was the manipulative and cunning brother who thought out everything instead of living on a whim according to his pleasures. It was this same trait that I discovered in Minho who also shared Jisung’s tendency to plan out his movements. The only difference between them was that Minho was silent in his execution while Jisung was loud in letting everyone know that he had gotten his way.

Finally, there was Bang Chan, the legal leader of the Miroh Coven. Chan was the last of the brothers to attempt a siring bond because he had never found the right person. I would never know for sure why Seungmin and Jeongin were “the right people,” but Chan doted on them in every sense of the word. He treasured them like they were his possessions, buying them expensive clothes and allowing them leeway when their bloodlust tended to get the best of them. It was up to the sire to teach their fledglings how to properly drink blood from a source, but Chan had decided not to blink an eye when Seungmin or Jeongin accidentally took things a step too far.

Just like Chan, Seungmin and Jeongin were also extremely possessive, especially when they considered something to belong exclusively to them. I can only wish that I had noticed sooner, the way the three of them liked to leave their marks on me in various ways, whether it be through a harsh bite or buying me something nice and insisting that I wear it at all times. Seungmin and Jeongin were also dangerous because there had been times when I felt like I was on death’s door, feeling them drink my blood like they would never stop.

Sadly, I thought I had escaped all of that, so imagine the utter sense of dread crippling my entire body when I woke up to see Chan, Changbin, and Jisung standing over me as they watched me slowly awaken. Chan was the first to react, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he appraised me. “Sweetheart,” he said and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you know how worried we were when you ran away from us like that?”

My lower lip trembled and I bit down on it hard. “I couldn’t stay.”

“Why not?” Chan asked, looking every bit as patient as I remembered.

“You hurt people,” I whispered. “And you hurt me too.”

“Hurt you?” Chan huffed, a look of annoyance masking his features. “We protected you and cared for you, sweetheart.”

“You belong to us,” Jisung said, gaze cold as he watched me from afar.

I sniffled, slowly losing my last shred of pride as I tried not to cry in front of these horrible vampires. His words reminded me of the night I left, rushing out into the streets with blood covering my body. “I don’t have to work for you anymore,” I said.

Changbin growled. “The arrangement meant more than that, Y/N.”

“We love you,” Chan said, reaching for my hands and I didn’t have the strength to fight him. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

I was crying now, triggered by the all-too-familiar words spoken 9 months ago when I entered the Miroh Mansion for the final time.

Jeongin was still young enough to celebrate his birthday, and the rest of the Clan had decided that nothing was too good for their precious youngest member. I remember going shopping with Chan, buying party decorations without any consideration for how much it would cost them. Earlier that week, Jisung and I had visited the bakery to order Jeongin a custom-made birthday cake, including a cheesy message at the bottom to commemorate the occasion. Everyone was in good spirits and I had finally stopped thinking about the bodies in their basement, believing Jisung when he told me that they had been donated to the Miroh Clan to use as a source of fresh blood. “It sometimes happens,” Jisung said. “Whenever there’s an accident and nobody claims the bodies, they send them here for us to use.”

It was an extremely unreasonable explanation but I refused to believe anything else in an attempt to protect myself from the truth. I was determined to move past it, forcing myself to smile at Jisung’s cheesy jokes or Chan’s attempts to make me laugh. I must have been a good actor because they stopped hovering around me at every possible opportunity, watching me like they were waiting for me to bolt out the door and never return.

“Y/N!” Jeongin had said, jumping into my bed to wake me up that morning. “Guess what?” he giggled, adorable face mere inches from my own.

“Hmmm?” I wondered, smirking as he practically beamed with excitement.

“It’s my birthday,” Jeongin said. “I’m supposed to be 40-years-old today!”

“Congratulations,” I snickered, deciding that it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

“Will you come play with me and Felix?” Jeongin asked. “We can do whatever we want until Chan gets home.”

That’s another thing I had noticed about the fledglings. They never really liked to talk about anyone except for their sired master. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that Jeongin had no idea that Jisung and Changbin even existed. “Okay,” I said. “Let me take a shower first.”

Jeongin allowed me to get ready in peace and quiet, and I enjoyed the feeling of the water scalding my skin as I stood under the faucet for far longer than normal. Afterward, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, finding Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin in Minho’s room, arguing over who would join teams. I yawned when I entered, wary of the way Minho was watching me from his bed, legs stretched out in front of him as his eyes followed me all the way to where Felix was holding out my controller.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon with the younger boys, ignoring Minho completely as I let Jeongin win several times even though I was much better at Street Fighter. “Finally,” Jeongin exclaimed, racing for the door before I could question him.

“Chan’s home,” Minho informed me, holding out a hand which I reluctantly accepted, trying not to react when Minho leaned in to press his lips against my delicate pulse point.

Downstairs, all of the vampires were busy setting up Jeongin’s party. Streamers hung from the overhead banisters and balloons floated mindlessly through the room as Chan hugged Jeongin tightly against his chest. “Were you a good boy today?” he asked the youngest who nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Y/N,” Jisung called my name. “Help me in the kitchen.”

I obeyed immediately, finding Jisung situating candles on top of the cake we had purchased earlier that week. I was struck by the normalcy of the situation, standing next to Jisung as he instructed me to start boiling a pot of water. Apparently, despite their delicate diets, on special occasions, the Vampires could enjoy human food and Jeongin’s favorite was being prepared for him.

It was chaotic in the Mansion as everyone attended to their various responsibilities, amusing little Jeongin who flitted from person to person. Although, more often than not, Jeongin stuck close to Chan’s side, talking to his sire about all the nuances of his day. Chan listened patiently, nodding along as he finished the elaborate ribbon around one of Jeongin’s birthday presents. “Is everyone ready?”

We all stood together in the kitchen, singing for Jeongin who was vibrating from head to toe. He blew out the candles and beamed at the accompanying applause. “Happy birthday, Jeongin,” I said, allowing him to pull me into an impossibly strong grip.

Meanwhile, the other vampires slowly congregated into the living room where Jeongin’s presents were waiting for him. “Y/N,” Chan said, holding me back as Jeongin raced out of the kitchen. “Help me carry these drinks.”

I wrinkled my nose because they were obviously filled with blood. Nonetheless, I obeyed diligently, accepting one of the trays before following Chan into the crowded foyer. “Channie!” Jeongin said, holding up a delicate pocket watch. “It’s so nice!”

Chan smiled warmly at Jeongin, ruffling his hair playfully as he started handing out the glasses. Changbin grabbed me by the hips as I passed in front of him, pulling me into his lap as he took a sip from his glass. “It’s not as good as yours,” he teased, lips scarlet from the liquid.

I chose not to respond to his comment, trying to relax against his body. “Y/N,” Chan said before handing me a glass. I studied it cautiously while I gingerly took the glass from him.

“What is it?”

“Just some wine,” Chan shrugged indifferently and I nodded before trying a sip of the beverage. Almost immediately, I winced at the taste and Changbin chuckled at my obvious aversion.

“It was very expensive,” he lightly chastised me and I tried not to notice the smell as I forced more of the wine down my throat.

Meanwhile, Jeongin continued to open more of his gifts, expressing his gratitude towards each of his older members as he tried on various pieces of clothing and jewelry. When he finally got to my present, he shot me a mischievous smirk. “Y/N...”

“Open it,” I encouraged him.

Jeongin needed no further encouragement, ripping through the wrapping paper before discovering the portable gaming system tucked neatly in the box it once came in. “For you to practice,” I said, pleased at his grateful expression. It was an older system that once belonged to my brother, but I didn’t have a need for it, and Jeongin talked relentlessly about how cool it would be to play the older versions of the games he loved.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

I was warmed by his genuine reaction, feeling nothing but affection for the boy. “You’re welcome.”

“What a good girl,” Changbin said, tipping my glass back against my lips. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he really cared about how expensive the wine cost. After all, these were the same men who brought new things into the house every day after flashing their shiny credit cards at whichever cashier had the privilege of accomodating their requests. Still, I knew better than to upset Changbin, especially on poor Jeongin’s birthday, so I downed the rest of the nasty drink before placing the glass down on the side table. “Shall we watch a movie?” Jisung asked, eyes glinting rather maniacally as he studied my discarded drink.

“Please!” Jeongin chirped. “Something scary.”

I hated the idea of watching a horror movie, but I couldn’t protest when everyone else was in total agreement for once. Instead, I followed the rest of the boys into the main living room, resisting a sigh when Chan drug me down next to him on the sectional. “Whatever you want, Jeongin,” Jisung said, tossing the younger the remote control.

“Dracula!” Jeongin declared, an amusing pick perhaps if these Vampires were less violent.

But my opinion held no weight and the film began while Felix turned off the lights. Bathed in darkness, I resisted the urge to curl in tighter against Chan as I tried not to think about the film playing on-screen. Everyone else was comfortable, settled in their usual pairs which meant Minho was sitting between Jisung’s legs while Felix and Hyunjin flanked Changbin on either side. Seungmin and Jeongin sat close to me and Chan as they watched the television with wide, eager eyes.

I tried to turn off my mind, focusing on a distant spot beyond the edge of the screen. It worked for a while, keeping my mind occupied away from the movie playing in the background. In fact, I might have managed to survive the rest of the evening had it not been for Chan whose lips were suddenly brushing along the length of my neck.

I immediately flinched away. “What are you doing?” I whispered, unrelenting when his hand wrapped around the back of my head to force me into place.

“I’m hungry,” he smirked against my exposed skin, teeth sharp against my delicate flesh.

“Why now?” I said, looking over at the others because there was no way they couldn’t hear the two of us.

“Just one bite,” Chan said and I rolled my eyes but bared my neck for him, hoping he would be fast about the unexpected ordeal. He was quick to adjust me on his lap, fixing our positions to his liking. Chan’s teeth penetrated my skin gently and I could feel his mouth latch on tightly as he started to drink from me. I tried not to react, glancing away at the other members who were still watching the movie. With the exception of Changbin, who was looking at me with a dangerous smirk that immediately alerted me to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

As the seconds ticked away, I realized that Chan had no intention of stopping and my instincts kicked in as the storm of anxiety registered throughout my slowly weakening body. I jerked away from Chan who must have been caught off-guard, blood spraying into the air around us as the wound had not been properly closed. But my decision proved to be a necessary distraction because Jeongin and Seungmin both immediately reacted to the intense smell, teeth bared as they sought the source of the blood coating the furniture and my clothes. I managed to dodge Jeongin as he lept at me first, colliding into Chan to send them both falling back into the floor.

With my hand pressed against my neck, I started for the front door, aware of Changbin closing in behind me. But the older boy was unprepared for Seungmin’s attack whose instincts probably insisted that someone was trying to steal his fresh supply of blood. Changbin let out a grunt as he wrestled with a feral Seungmin, receiving help from Felix and Hyunjin who were trying to protect their sire. Through the haze clouding my eyes, I could see Jisung holding back Minho whose sharpened incisors were cutting deeply into the thin skin of his lips. “You belong to us!” Jisung snarled.

“We can be together forever,” Chan said, still distracted by a wild Jeongin whose dark eyes were starting to look very unfamiliar. It was only then that I realized I had been tricked. They had been trying to turn me without my permission. The expensive wine Changbin insisted I drink must have been someone’s blood because when a human died with vampire blood in their system...

I forced those thoughts away, deciding it was far more important to focus on escaping, and the feral vampires provided the perfect distraction. I managed to make it out onto the street, finding my car parked at the sidewalk. I started the ignition, blasting cold air through the vents to keep me conscious as I pulled out onto the main road. Blood was still pouring steadily from my wound when I stopped next to the Emergency room entrance, ignoring a nearby policeman who was clearly displeased that I was blocking the road before I finally succumbed to the darkness with a grateful sigh.

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jadekitty777 · 4 years

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Ain't Your Ordinary Tinkerbell

Seems like I’m not getting out of these FG shipweeks with every one being a fully completed work (*eyes the unfinished soulmate one from March*).

This one is a story that’s been on the backburner for awhile, but I do intend to finish it. I got inspired to do this one from Shana340′s Dark Fairy AU... the minute the first picture was posted I fell in love and wanted to write something but couldn’t think of anything concrete. Leading to the piece that really got my storyline cogs going this one, which was the collab done between her, Chi and Kyra. So I hope you’ll all like this... admittedly short beginning!

Day 3: Fantasy AU

Dedicated to: @shana340artblog with side credit given to @chiherah and @narwhalish

Rating: K

Words: 3.5k

Summary: All fairies, except one, are welcome to Feywood.

This is the story of Qrow, the only fairy to be unwelcome, and his desperate journey to find a place he belongs. [Dark Fairy AU]

Ao3 Link: Chapter 1:First and Second

His life was over.

“Qrow Branwen! By order of the Queen you are to return to – ack!” Whatever else Tukson was about to command was mercilessly cut off by one of Tai’s ruthless punches to the gut.

Tai left the woodland fairy on his knees before hopping back to stand on the railing of his treehouse’s porch. “There’s more where that came from, so all of you back off!”

“Tai-!” Qrow tried to go back for him, but Summer’s grip on his arm was stronger than spider thread.

“He’ll be fine, come on!” She shouted as she pulled him inside.

Qrow’s last glimpse of his best friend was the proud, protective way he fanned out his feathery, yellow wings as he faced the oncoming Queen’s guard, before Summer shut the door and she started to throw up magical wards.

They wouldn’t kill him – he knew that with as much certainty as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow. No one was foolish enough to eradicate a phoenix fire fairy. The nightmarish stories of their vengeful rebirth were things of legend; tales of burnt down forests and wiped out colonies. Still, Queen Salem would punish him severely for his defiance. His friend was making a great sacrifice for him – and Qrow would never be able to pay it back.

His eyes fell to Summer, still working her magic, her silver butterfly wings emitting a soft light every time a spell was cast. She, likewise, would be receiving retribution for her actions today.

Guilt weighed his wings down, until they nearly brushed the floor. “Summer, I…”

“Don’t just stand there!” She cut him off with a snap. “Dust is in the second drawer to the right. Hurry!”

He bit down the protest that wanted to ring out, turning on his heels and running to the hutch. He ignored the knickknacks of lost things the three (four) of them had collected over the years, for the memories they would have brought forth would stall him yet again when there was no time left for him to delay. He yanked open the requested drawer and pulled out the satchel, the edges of it glowing sunflower gold, nearly spilling out as he carried it across the room.

Summer met him in the middle, taking the bag and undoing the clips. “There’s just enough for me to get you to the human world. You’ll be out of reach there. You’ll, be safe there.”

He could tell she was trying to be strong, but the shake told him she was barely holding back tears. It left his own eyes stinging. “I’m sorry. If only I hadn’t been born with these accursed wings.”

“No.” Summer seemed to pause for the first time since they’d fled from the Queen’s castle. Her gaze on him was open and earnest as it always was. “Qrow, what all she was saying – that you’re a harbinger. That you caused the drought. I don’t believe a word of it.”

“You can’t be sure of that.” He told her, unconsciously folding his wings over his arms. As if the dark things actually had the power to protect anything.

She shook her head adamantly. “I’m sure of you. Your magic is beautiful but misunderstood.”

A thud against the wall made them both jump. Time was running out.

Summer upended the satchel over him, the fairy dust spilling over his head and clinging to his clothes and feathers. Despite its warmth, Qrow felt none of the normal elation and joy that came with being touched by the dust’s power. Instead, he was left shivering and empty as he realized this would be the very last time.

“I,” The dam he’d held finally broke, spilling down his cheeks. “I love you both, so much.”

She clutched the back of his head, bringing him close and touching their foreheads together. The diadems they both wore clinked together, the mystical jewel in the middle of hers tapping the hollow hole where his had once been before it was stolen away. For a second, he felt touched by her magic.

“No matter where you are, we will always be your family.” She swore to him.

“I know.” He would never forget.

She pulled away, taking two steps back and cast her final spell.

It layered over him like ivy vines, immobilizing him so effectively, there was nothing to he could do – not even shout – as he saw the wards shatter along the door and get thrown open, the Queen’s guards rushing in.

He was plummeting before they could even hope to reach him.

Everything fell away. The floor underneath his feet, the walls of the house around him, even Summer herself warped out of existence as he was thrown through the magical plane. Nothing was left but a kaleidoscope of color and noise, so chaotic it was impossible to grasp at anything defined. And then he was out the other side, the chill on his skin immediate as a constellation of stars surrounded him.

Though not a novice by any means, it took him longer than usual to recover from the jump, so that he was already falling through the clouds before he finally willed his wings to open. A few steady flaps were all it took to right himself and control his flight and soon he was wheeling round and round, descending through the darkness of night to the human world below.

All the times before when he’d visited, he approached with wonder and curiosity. Humanity had many creations, from their giant fireflies on poles to their noisemakers on wheels. Each item was fantastic to consider their use – or if they had one at all. The species was frivolous like that, creating things of beauty simply for the art of it.

But now he could hardly focus on the landscape below him, taking in only the most minute of details like the shimmer that implied a lake a winged creature such as him should best avoid and the many small abodes that ringed around it. He was drawn to the one that still had its fireflies lit, too distressed to think of much else beyond a place to hide.

He landed on the rooftop, entire body dragging as he lumbered about for something raised high enough to slip in-between. But it was made of a material he was not used to, flat and gravely. When he tried to pull at one, he found they were held in place by silver tacks. Without magic, he’d never be able to pull them up. No magic, no home, no family. Everything was gone.

Qrow gave a noise that sounded too close to despair, sitting down on the edge of the roof and burying his head in his hands.

How had things gone so wrong? He’d awoken this morning with expectations to get to work. Harvest was soon and the plants needed careful tending by all hands this time of year. Yet, instead, he found himself belayed on his flight, called away by an urgent message by their queen. What would have happened to him had Tai not spotted him being detoured and grew suspicious? What would he have done, had he been alone in that throne room when Salem decreed his disownment to her court before she plucked the ruby gem from his diadem and stole his magic away? He would have been helpless and dead, if not for Tai and Summer rushing in at that moment to intervene. And now here he was, lost and alone.

Perhaps a fate worse than death after all.

A few seasons ago, Raven had warned him before she had left that this was what all those stray, accusatory looks from their fellow clanmates would build to. He’d brushed off her concerns, claimed them as nothing but excuses for her true desire to run away from a place she never felt she belonged to – what an incredible fool he was! If his sister could see him now, she’d mock and jeer at him and it would only be what he deserved and more.

If only he had believed her. Had gone with her. At least then they’d be together. Did he even have any hope of finding her, on this vast and massive world?

A screeching noise jerked him to attention immediately, unconsciously flattening close to the roof as wariness overtook distress. There were many ways he imagined he could go out from this world; to be a meal for an owl was not one he particularly liked to entertain. He could feel sorry for himself once he was properly hidden.

He searched the sky and trees with an attentive eye, trying to spot something staring back – and that was how he noticed it. A little, green home hung from the branch of a tree, not unlike the ones back home.

Why would a human have a fairy house?

Another screech in the wind reminded him he did not have time for such trivial thoughts, so he swooped down quickly, landing on the little platform leading to a decently sized hole. He took note of its shape, finding it wasn’t perfectly round, and shavings of wood jutted at strange angles, as if it had only just recently been carved.

As he climbed inside, he found there was nothing inside but a nest of moss, sticks, and leaves with one portion particularly more rotund than everything else. It was there he rested, finding the bed suitable for now as he drew his wings about himself and resigned himself to his new home.

~~~~~

On the third day, at dawn, whistling awoke him just like it had the days before.

Qrow sat up from his nest, stretching his arms above his head and flapping out his wings, stirring the loose bits all about. He leaned out of the hole of his shelter, watching the single human who lived in the house pass by underneath him. He was going fishing yet again if the pole resting on his shoulder was any indication. It seemed to be a daily chore – or maybe a pleasure. He would not be back until the sun had evaporated the morning dew from the grass.

It was a consistent, reliable routine and one Qrow would use to his advantage.

Once the man had disappeared on his boat, Qrow got to work. By the handful, he begun to shove out the pointy sticks, pieces of smelly moss and crinkly leaves out the hole, letting it litter the floor far below. Once complete, he plucked one of his own feathers, sweeping up the dirt and pebbles that had been lying underneath it all, tossing it out by the handful until his temporary home was decently clean.

Job complete, he moved onto his second mission, climbing out through the hole and swooping down towards the man’s larger version. He needed at least a few things – something to gather water, something sharp to cut plants, and some soft, proper bedding. He may not have plans to stay forever, but he certainly did not need to live uncomfortably in the meanwhile.

He fell down to the door, landing on the knob, considering how he might open it. Had he had his magic, he could have willed it to turn itself or transform to his full size to just grasp it in his own hand. Neither were on option, so he’d have to be creative.

He tried instead to hop up and then back down, putting force into his legs. Rather than causing the knob to budge, his shoes merely slipped on the smooth surface, and he gave a cry as he fell right off. A few frantic flaps kept him from hitting the ground and back to the knob he went, considering again. He eyed the space between the door and the frame, before wedging himself there and trying to push his feet against the knob, leveraging all his weight in hopes it would turn.

Yet, it barely budged.

Qrow grunted, frustration welling within him at his limitations, before giving up the venture. Instead, he circled the home in hopes of finding an easier way in. His hope came in the form of a window, open just a crack. He gripped the side of the open pane, planting a foot against the jamb and the other on the sill, and started to pull. It slid by the millimeter, painfully slow, his body straining with the effort.

And then, quite suddenly, it slid open several all at once. He lost his balance and fell again, only to wearily make his way back up, pleased to find the opening had widened considerably. He sidled in sideways and hopped down to a large wooden surface just underneath, plopping down for a sit and taking stock of his new surroundings.

At this size, it was easy to say everything looked quite grand, but experience told him this human lived quite modestly. From the writing utensils nearby, Qrow knew he sat upon a desk. Directly across the room, was the kitchen with its many metallic oddities to craft meals. Two doors, both open, were to his right one yielding a bedroom, the other a washroom. To his left, a small sitting area with a comfortable looking chair and a low table with an unfinished ship-in-a-bottle placed upon it. Adjacent that, angled against a wall, was also a tall bookcase, full to the brim with texts that all looked well-read. There were other decorations upon the walls – pictures and paintings that were all pretty green landscapes, wild oceans and colorful sunrises.

Had he been able to grow, he could have explored the home more fully. All the drawers and cabinets were certainly well stocked with things he could certainly make use of. With the knowledge his excursion would certainly be more restricted, he stood with a sigh and flew to the thing that had most intrigued him.

He landed upon the table, eyeing over the strewn parts of the unfinished ship that gave off a glint or shine, knowing they had the highest chance of being sharp. A laugh almost left him when he noticed the embellishments that were meant to gussy up the whole thing and found a small, fairy-sized cutlass among them. Retrieving it, he found its weight to be acceptable and its sharpness to be true. He flew it back to the desk before beginning his search anew.

His water container was much less glamorous – nothing more than a bottle cap that smelt of sweetness retrieved from the kitchen counter. Still he added it to his small pile before heading to the washroom for what he knew would make a perfect bedding.

The rectangular box he was looking for was set on the corner of the sink, little white tissue sticking out from the top. He pulled out a few, folding the large sheets over and over until they were easily transportable squares. Once done, he carried them to the rest of his collection of stolen things. He placed the sword in the notch of his belt before hefting the cap and tissues under either arm and squeezed back out the window.

Qrow was back home and already laying in the softness of his new bed well before the whistling of the man returned.

AS he ponded over his unknown future, he fell into a restless, exhausted sleep.

Qrow was awoken instantly by a violent rocking that tumbled him from his bed.

His back impacted a wall, disorienting him as his vision swiveled, and he turned his head about to figure what was going on. A scratching noise had him looking to his entrance, only for his heart to leap into his throat as he was faced down by a pair of black, beady eyes.

The bird knocked its beak against the edge of the hole once again, the noise rattling the walls of the home and shaking him to his bones. In the streams of light that filtered in every time it pulled its head back, he caught the red crest along its crown. Between that and the chips of wood beginning to litter his newly cleaned floor, the species name came to him.

Woodpecker.

Suddenly, the misshapen hole and the empty nest had connotations he dared not give full thought to.

Breath coming in rapid pants, he flattened himself into the furthest corner he could while scrambling blindly for his sword. His terror only heightened as the woodpecker squeezed its way inside and in the light that followed, he spotted the glint on the other side of the room. Well out of reach of saving him.

With alarming speed, the bird thrust its beak at him. Qrow ducked low, narrowly avoiding the attack and dove to the opposite wall, scrabbling along it to try and reach the exit. His fingers curled around the edge of the jagged hole, freedom moments away.

It was ripped from him as that beak latched around the top of his left wing as the woodpecker yanked him back. He shouted, agony lacing like lightning through him, and he desperately twisted and struck out with a fist, delivering a swift sucker punch right between those hungry eyes. It released him with a squawk of surprise and maybe pain, jerking back.

Qrow wasted no time, clambering out the exit and taking to the wind.

The problem was immediately realized as his injured wing buckled and his other flapped wildly to compensate, sending him into an uncontrolled downward spiral. Everything meshed together into a confusing motley, and he braced himself for the inevitable impact.

He didn’t hit the dirt – didn’t even come close to it – because the house got in the way of his chaotic flight. He caught only the briefest glimpse of his own, panicked face, before glass was shattering around him in a great, explosive sound. His shoulder took the brunt of the next impact and he went rolling along a hard surface, stopping just short of falling off the edge.

In the moments that followed, all Qrow knew was anguish. It quaked along his entire body, every nerve on fire. But the pain was most splitting on his lame wing, lances of it shrieking through the delicate, hollow bones and zipping with unforgiving ferocity along his spine. He knew without having to test it that it was broken.

Gingerly as he could, he sat up, a hiss escaping him as his shoulder also protested movement. His hand fell to it, grounding himself with a few deep, slow breathes.

“Great stars.”

The sudden voice had him jerking around and for the second time within ten minutes, he was confronted by a face larger than his own. It was the fisherman. Deep set green eyes stared back at him, mouth slightly agape with shock.

Qrow’s chest froze with fear and he leapt to his feet only to immediately stumble back to his knees when the pain became too great to handle.

“Hey…” The human’s tone lilted with concern. “Are you alright?”

A hand as large as his torso reached for him. He flinched back, instinctively trying to curl his wings around him, only to cringe as his broken one protested violently.

The man drew back immediately, eyeing him in quiet worry. When he spoke again, it was even softer than before, “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to check on that wing of yours.” He rested his palm out, open and inviting, before him. “Please don’t be scared.”

Tiny as he was, Qrow offered his fiercest glare in return.

“Alright.” The man seemed to get comfortable, hand never moving from its spot. “I’ll wait.”

Incredulity filled him. He seemed certain Qrow would bend to his will. Was this man overconfident or simply foolish?

Knowing humans, it could easily be either one.

Then, even more unbelievably, the man smiled. “I’m Clover by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.” Qrow snapped. A useless endeavor, as he knew humans could not understand him in this form.

Clover arched a brow in return, replying anyways, “I’ll take that as a ‘nice to meet you’.”

He rolled his eyes, pointedly avoiding his gaze, and instead considered his options. He was on an empty shelf that was next to the kitchen, with nothing close by to climb down to. Not that it mattered. With the window broken, he wouldn’t have too much trouble leaping out of it.

But then what? Even if he survived the drop without further injury, he was grounded until his wing healed, at the mercy of every predator sharp enough to snatch up an easy meal. And even if he did escape and managed to survive the grueling two months of mending such a break would take, without a proper healer to bind it, his wing wouldn’t set correctly.

He’d… never fly again.

Was that a price he wished to pay for stubbornness? His friends didn’t risk everything for him not to do the same.

He looked over to Clover, read his earnest and hopeful expression.

Defeatedly, he rose to his feet, took three steps to what might possibly be his greatest mistake yet, and plopped back down onto his palm.

Clover gave him another beaming grin, rising with all the care of a man who knew he held a very delicate gift. “Don’t you worry, fairytale. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Already familiar enough with his surroundings, he didn’t bother to look around, merely accepting what was certain to be his next new home.

Well, third time’s the charm, right?

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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takingcourage · 5 years

Text

A Game of Make Believe

Pairing: Luke Harper x MC (Helena)

Word Count: 1,450

Summary: This is just a little bit of fluff set between Chapters 4 and 5 of Book 2. If you’re romancing Harper, you cannot persuade me that Briar didn’t contrive to allow MC and Harper some time together during the “several” days they spent in Grovershire. What might they find to do in such a situation?

Note: This is my first time writing Helena and Harper outside of my Gothic AU; however, it almost certainly won’t be my last. This piece has been sitting unfinished in my Works in Progress folder for an embarrassing number of weeks, but the upcoming duel has me wanting something a little simpler for these two. I hope you enjoy!

“I’m going to post a letter to Mr. Woods, Helena. You and Mr. Harper will have the whole house to yourselves in the meantime.” Briar’s dark brows bobbed encouragingly, fingers deft in their efforts to secure the bonnet ties under her chin. “And I’ll take the long way into town, so I shall be gone at least an hour.”

Briar never has been one for subtlety, Helena reflected, trying to disguise her interest by picking up speed with her needles. The wooden sticks clicked furiously, but she couldn’t stop the flaming blush that was creeping over her cheeks.

“Relax, Helena,” Briar patted her shoulder in reassurance. “I know you’re much too wise to do anything scandalous. But you’ve had no time together since that detour through the woods. I thought you might like some time alone.” Without another word, Briar tugged open the door, the hastily scrawled letter clutched between her fingers.

Helena had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at the wink Briar threw over her shoulder as she crossed the threshold. Keeping her fingers steady, she reached the end of the row and placed her knitting on the couch cushion. It was foolish to spend her time in such employment when she had the prospect of time with Mr. Harper.

Rising, she tucked a stray curl behind her ear and straightened out the wrinkles that had settled into the layers of her skirt. Although the heat had left her cheeks, the speedy rhythm of her heart told her that all had not returned to normal.

She found him precisely where she expected: behind the cottage with the horses. Taking advantage of his distracted state, she stood for a moment, admiring. Mr. Harper leant down, Clover’s hoof balanced on his knee while he removed debris with a small pick. His hands, well accustomed to the task, worked with a competence that Helena found mesmerizing. Not for the first time, she marveled at the gentleness in those large hands.

There was great power in his form, but it was tempered by the kindest heart she’d ever known. It was one of the things she loved best about him. Without doubt, it was one of the reasons she felt so confident that her father would have approved of their love for one another. Even without the social station to protect her, she never had cause to fear when he was at her side. Their encounter with the highwaymen had more than proven that.

His job complete, he rose to his feet and patted the horse’s flank. “That’s much better, isn’t it?” Clover nickered happily, and Helena could no longer hide her presence.

“It’s a lovely morning, you know.” The words startled him, but the warmth in her smile made up for any unease she may have caused. “I’m certain the horses can manage quite well on their own for a while.”

“They seem to like it here,” he agreed, smoothing Clover’s shining coat one final time before leaving her to graze on the long grass. Recent days had been a bit cooler than was usual for May, but Grovershire was home to hardy stock. There was ample green for both horses to take their fill.

“Briar has left for town and won’t be back for some time. I think she worries that we’ve had no time together.”

“You know that I can never refuse such an opportunity.”

“In that case, I thought that we might engage in one of your games of pretend, Mr. Harper. But with our eyes open this time,” she beamed at him, joy spreading through her as he returned a wide smile.

“What are we pretending today?”

“First we will imagine that there is no duke. And that I am not a lady of Edgewater. That this cottage exists just for the two of us. You’ll be…” she thought for the space of several moments before taking the scenario further. “You can be a farmer, and I, your wife. I spend my days knitting socks and tending to all of the animals that we keep.”

“Animals?” he inquired lightly.

She turned back to him, eyes wide. “Of course! How can you forget all of our chickens? The old milk cow? And the drove of pigs we bought last season?” she clicked her tongue in disgust.

He assumed a look of mock horror, but Helena caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what I was thinking. But you mustn’t forget our horses either.” Noting her omission, he inclined his head toward Clover. The horse paid him little mind, losing herself again in the undergrowth.

Helena ventured toward him, offering her hand as they walked toward the cottage. The green of his eyes was especially evident under the stippled light that shone through a canopy of trees. Her words caught in her throat as she noted the sparks of emerald. “I could never forget our horses. How else would we go for our evening rides through the forest?”

“An excellent question.” They made their way around the side of the cottage, stepping carefully to avoid trampling Mrs. Daly’s flowers. He lightly squeezed the bare fingers resting on his forearm. Helena’s pulse quickened again at the contact, skin tingling with a sudden rush of heat.

“And this garden is your handiwork as well?”

Her wandering mind censured, Helena glanced at the flowering bushes by their feet. “Indeed, it is.” She stretched out the hand at her side, skimming the pad of her finger along the fragile blossoms. “Come to think of it, I really ought to grow more vegetables,” she pondered, eyes on the empty plot of ground before her. “What would I need to grow to make your mother’s soupikandia?”

Her quick glance at his face sent a thrill of giddy delight through her frame, for she saw surprise mingled alongside the fondness she had come to expect in these moments together.

“I’m not sure that they would grow in England.”

“But this is pretend. We may grow anything we like.”

“Forgive me, I’d forgotten.”

Helena’s mouth opened slightly, but snapped shut again in her uncertainty.

“We would need okra,” he resumed after a pause.

“I’ve never heard of it!” Helena burst, unable to contain her curiosity.

He laughed for a moment. “I’m not sure anyone grows it in England. It’s quite different to any of the vegetables you’re used to, but it’s one of the ingredients that makes soupikandia delicious.”

“Then we must have it. I will ask after seeds the next time I’m at market.” The words, though uttered under the guise of make believe, still held all the earnestness of a promise that bore no pretense.

“You’re quite accommodating, my lady.”

“You seem to forget how well we are acquainted, my lord,” she jested mildly. “I should hardly expect my husband to use such titles.”

And if you were my husband, she considered, I would do anything I could to make you smile. I would do it anyway, she realized suddenly. Overwhelmed by a depth of feeling, she masked her blush by hurriedly sweeping the hair from her eyes.

“I seem to have lost my skill at pretending, Helena,” he murmured quietly, stroking her cheek with a broad thumb. She leaned into his touch, relishing the solid warmth of his flesh as her eyes closed involuntarily. The breath of his sigh tickled the hair on her cheek, and she sensed his closeness even before her eyelids fluttered open.

“So have I.” Pushing up to the balls of her feet, Helena closed the slight distance between them, pressing her lips to his own. It had been only a matter of days since the last time they had last kissed, yet it felt an eternity to Helena.

“My love for you is more real than anything I’ve ever known,” he told her softly.

“I look forward to the day when we no longer have to pass our time with such games. I’m ready for reality with you.”

“Our time will come. I promise that.”

“Do you really think so? It is easy to believe such things here,” she gestured to the countryside that surrounded them. “But in Edgewater there is still much that stands between us.”

“Helena, if I thought all was lost, I would have asked after a minster on our first morning here. Knowing that you feel as deeply toward me as I feel toward you, I will not cease fighting until our future is secured.”

Contented, she drew him to her for the first of many subsequent kisses. No matter how many days of pretending might lie before them, she knew without a doubt that real life together would follow.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #desire and decorum #luke harper #harper x mc

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alwaysaprille · 6 years

Note

am I an asshole if I genuinely want you to answer all the salty asks so I can read your responses?

Not an asshole, but it might take a bit!

What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

Ice Mechanic, Dr. Mechanic, Murphamy (as romantic).

2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?*

Br/ven is the only one I can think of right now.

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

LOL, yes, but only if it gets to the point of racism/phobia.

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?*

Its Cl/xa. So yes.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

Cl/xa.

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

Not as yet, no. But there’s always a chance.

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?*

Meta. People who meta tend to be very full of themselves now. And I know I am also a “meta” writer, but I try to avoid making myself seem more important than I am.

8. Have you received anon hate? What about?*

LMAO, YES. Basically about everything. I think I’ve received so much now that I couldn’t even tell you.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Octavia: the epitome of a racist white savior who has an additional bonus of being an abuser.

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

Octavia’s character arc since S2 has not made any sense whatsoever. I don’t think they have any idea what they plan on doing with her or, if they do, they don’t have a good idea of how to execute it.

11. Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

I like Echo. I think she’s misunderstood. She’s not perfect and she definitely has issues, but I think she has potential.

12. Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

I actually enjoyed Bellamy’s S3 arc, lots of people said it was out of character, but I really thought it fit him, and more importantly, it was a manifestation of his trauma, which he had not excised up until that point.

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

I....still think John Murphy is a trash human being. Like full offense but he peed on a kid, killed 2 more, shot and permanently disabled Raven and didn’t really begin to actually earn his redemption until the very end of S3 and then again in the very end of S4 and I’m still unsure how much of that was motivated by his survival instinct.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

I have publicly disassociated myself with the Blarke family, but I assume that’s the fandom people most associate me with so I’ll give my opinion about that. I think that too many Blarkes ignore the racial stereotypes that sometimes show up in the ship and they still haven’t really let go of the princess and kinght trope.

15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

I don’t know if this is necessarily unpopular, but I do think the show has strayed too far from it’s original premise and that has continued to hurt it as the Seasons pass

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

The lack of promotion. The focus on the Grounders. The casting of Alphabet Soup as the Commander as opposed to an actual WOC.

17. Instead of XYZ happening, I would have made ABC happen...

Instead if Cl/xa happening the way it did, I would have pursued one of the following options:

I would have had L/xa not abandon Clarke and the Arkadians at Mt. Weather in 2x16 if the plan was for them to eventually become romantic. I would have had them be separated at the end of 2x16 by something/someone else, so that when they did manage to reunite, Clarke wouldn’t have spent 3 months (I also would have abbreviated this time apart) hating/being rightfully angry with her. And the romance that developed (in 7 days-because the first 7 days in Polis Clarke was a prisoner) wouldn’t have felt rushed. I also would not have killed L/xa when(right after consummation)/how(accidental bullet) they did. She should have died like the warrior she was.

If L/xa betraying Clarke at the Mountain had to be the option, I would not have fulfilled the romance between Cl/xa. I would have preferred to see them become friends/friendly. Work together for the mutual good of their people, so that way we could have avoided the feeling that the relationship was rushed (and therefore unfinished).

18. Does not shipping something ‘popular’ mean you’re in denial and/or biased?

No. Some people don’t ship the obvious ships and that’s fine! However, I think if you do choose to ship something that’s not popular or canon (especially if it’s obvious that it’s not going to happen), you probably shouldn’t be angry/rude about it.

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

Just one thing? How quickly people panic, every time we get any news there are a ton of people who are terrified about what it means for the show.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?

Marper

21. What are your thoughts on crack ships?

I think the definition of crack ships has been wildly distorted in this fandom. A crack ship by definition is a ship that is highly ridiculous, bizarre, disturbing, and/or unlikely to ever become canon. The characters don't have any chemistry, never interact, are in different canons or timelines, are different species, one is an inanimate object, etc. But for whatever reason this fandom thinks that a “crack ship” is any ship that they personally don’t like. A huge example of this is people calling Bellarke a crack ship, when it doesn’t fit the main criteria (Bob and Eliza’s chemistry is often talked about-they were even nominated for an award, Bell and Clarke’s relationship is the basis of the show and they interact in some capacity in almost every episode, they exist in the same timeline show, are both humans, etc.). So basically, I think it’s fine and often fun to ship them, but....people are...taking it too far.

22. Popular character you hate?

Octavia.

23. Unpopular character you love?

Gaia (who isn’t unpopular as in people don’t like her, it’s just that people don’t pay her enough attention).

24. Would you recommend XXX to a friend? Why or why not?

Yes, despite everything it’s a really good show, thought provoking and interesting. However, I wouldn’t recommend it until after it’s finished airing in it’s entirety and I would tell them to avoid the fandom at all costs.

25. How would you end XXX/Would you change the ending of XXX?

I don’t want to expose my romanticness with this answer so...I’m gonna be mum.

26. Most shippable character?

Raven Reyes.

27. Least shippable character?

John Murphy (I literally can’t see him with anyone outside of Emori, although i do think there might be another relationship in the works)

#Anonymous #i feel like this took a week to complete #the 100 #ask games

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