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romanoffsbish · 2 years

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I Tried

Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

2,644 Words

Kate Bishop, known to the world as the up and coming Avenger, rumored to be in line to take over for Hawkeye. To the world she's brave—albeit reckless, she's kind—some would even say to a fault, and most importantly she's strong—inspiring even. You've known her for quite some time though, since her hands first wrapped around a bow, and to you she's so much more than an expendable warrior in an unfair fight.

———

You've known her for fifteen years, having met in the third grade when you moved schools. Taunts were mercilessly thrown your way by the kids who were essentially marking their territory, and you'd just felt so out of place. One particularly bad day you'd been crying into your knees while sitting in a field, and a shadow covering you brought your hesitant attention up.

A brunette with a gap where who two front teeth should be was warmly smiling down at you, with a hand extended in front of your face. You'd shakily accepted her hand, she abruptly pulled you up, and you awkwardly wiped your tears away on your shirt.

"Wanna see something cool?" She slightly stuttered, and curiosity got the best of you so you nodded.

She smiled, pulling a capri sun out from her back pocket, then pushed the straw through the hole in her smile. She began to suck the juice, and only about half made it down her throat, before the remainder came spewing out of the hole. Your laughter filled her ears and she joined you once she saw the obvious mess.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

"Kate Bishop, pleasure to make your acquaintance." She giggles, bowing before gripping your hand and pulling you off towards the jungle gym.

The rest is all a wondrous-beautiful history, as the both of you grew up attached at the hip; somewhere along the way you'd blurred through the lines of friendship and now you've been lovers for six years. Just three months ago everything had been going well, but now you're not so certain she even wants you anymore. You'd be lucky to even catch a glimpse of her between the sun setting and rising each day, and whenever you do see her she's telling you stories of her grand adventures with Hawkeye and Yelena Belova before slamming back half a pizza and passing out.

Yelena—the blonde assassin who tried to "kill her" upon their first meeting has now taken over the role of best friend in your lovers life. Jealousy had never been something to consider with you two since it had always just been the both of you. Even in High School, Kate wouldn't even consider going anywhere without you, and it was the same the other way.

Now though, Kate's gone off and made friends, finally immersed in the "superhero" crowd that she'd been a bit obsessed with ever since the battle of New York. Over the years you might've even indulged her obsession, even finding it sorta fun as you were buying her limited edition "Hawkeye" action figures in ebay auctions. It was always worth it for you when you got to see the look of pure joy, and to hear her squeals as she placed it on her floating shelf besides the others.

Tired of the way things were going you'd tried to stay up to talk it out, maybe even fight if it came down to it, you'd honestly do anything just to go back to the way everything once was.

Kinda needed her to show up for that to work...

A week went by of nothing but absolute silence, and you found yourself growing increasingly angrier by the day at every ignored text, or call.

One Saturday morning you woke up with a heaviness on your abdomen, assuming that Lucky had just broken the "no bed" rule again you decidedly kept your eyes closed. Then as your consciousness became less fuzzy you remembered that Lucky was at Moose's for a Larping event this weekend causing your body to stiffen.

Without much movement you caught a glimpse of the perpetrator, taking note of Kate's perfect face, then feeling immense rage. Once upon a time the sight of her messy hair, parted lips, and the sound of her snores would be enough to make your heart flutter with excitement.

But now? After pretty much ghosting you? Who does she think she is showing up here and cuddling up to you after a week of total silence? After the prior months of relative silence...

Surely she has to realize that this isn't how a relationship works. Your relationship—perfectly crafted, never worked like this prior, so you're not entirely sure what's gotten into her to make her think this is how it goes now.

After taking a few calming breaths you carefully peeled her arm off of you, even if all you wanted for months was for it to be on you. You collected your outfit then hopped into the shower to try and clear your thoughts before having to face the woman who once made your world turn. Once you exited the restroom you found the bed was empty though, so you slowly made your way downstairs to find it equally as empty.

"Absolutely not." You humorlessly chuckle out before pulling your phone out to track her down, and grabbing your keys.

After driving for a little over thirty minutes you'd pulled over to find yourself at Central Park. You stepped out of your car, remaining hidden behind a wall of sorts, and peering around until your eyes stumbled upon Kate sat on a blanket with none other than Yelena. They were sharing a massive spread of food, while your girlfriend was laughing rather boisterously, as if the world's funniest person had been stood before them.

"Kate Bishop, why aren't you at home with your girlfriend Y/N? I don't have much experience with love in this manner, but I do think for it to be a relationship you kind of need to be there."

"I want to be there, but she's mad at me.. I can sense it in the way that she looks at me whenever I come home from training or missions. Eyes that used to stare at me in awe seem to hold nothing short of contempt as of late. I just feel like if I don't go home, then she can't say the words that are designed to break me completely."

"Oh, Kate, this simply will not do. Running from your girlfriend has to be the opposite way of keeping her. You could easily take time off you know, Y/N seems like a great girl, you need to always make sure to cherish the one's you love."

"She's everything Lena, truly she's my dream come true, and has been ever since I met her on the playground over a decade ago. Always been the gentlest soul, feeling all her emotions so openly, so for her to be so closed off lately has scared me. Normally she'd tell me what's wrong, but I think I'm what's wrong here, and she didn't know how to say it. I thought giving her space would help, but she seemed so mad this morning when she woke up to me beside her, so I kind of snuck out before she could start yelling."

"Take it from me, absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder, that phrase is a bullshit one. Absence like this doesn't make people miss you, all you're doing here is teaching her how to live without you, and I don't think you're prepared for that seeing as how it's exactly what you're running from. Don't be a coward Kate Bishop, heroes can't have a coward bone."

Before Kate could make sure Yelena knew a coward bone wasn't real the sounds of tires screeching interrupted the women as their attention turns to the perpetrators car.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Kate gasps while scrambling to get to her feet, and frantically collecting her belongings.

"What is it Kate Bishop? The tracksuits?" Yelena lazily questions, pretending to be worried while she’s dipping her chip in some salsa.

"No, it's Y/N, and now she's going to think I'm cheating on her, which I'm sure has already been floating around in that beautiful, insecure brain of hers. I have approximately fifteen minutes to get home before she runs out with a suitcase and in turn my entire heart."

Kate runs off before Yelena can say anything, and she chuckles as she's watching the brunette running off towards her car without her keys. Sure, she could've gotten up, but this isn't really her problem, so she just lifts them up just in time for her to run back and grab them before she's sprinting off once more.

"Good luck Kate Bishop. You're definitely going to need it.." She murmurs into the air, before cleaning up the picnic and pretty much disappearing into thin air.

—

Intentions—they're important, because you care far too much about your car to just mistreat it like that, Kate should know that. Seeing as how it was the first thing you'd been able to purchase outright, with your own hard earned money, but in her panicked state it never even crossed her mind. It's honestly funny, for an upcoming Avenger she was surely breaking at least five traffic laws to get home to you before you could actually leave her. Which, honestly, if you think about it, did help her "straight and narrow" self to fit right in with the band of heroes.

When you'd returned to the apartment you carefully packed your suitcase, purposefully leaving behind a wide array of your belongings. Taking only a weeks worth of your items, you then waited patiently for your girlfriend to come home so that you could finally have it out with her, then promptly leave her alone the way she had essentially done to you for months now.

Kate came crashing through the door, protests immediately falling from her lips, only to be stilled by your far too relaxed presence in the recliner.

"Baby, it's not what it looked like, Yelena and I were just —."

...

"Baby?"

"Kate, so nice of you to make it home, how about you sit down so we can chat, yeah?"

Even though you worded it as a question, the archer knew better than to challenge you, sheepishly finding space for herself on the corner of the couch closest to you as she craved the proximity.

"Now, would you care to explain where you've been this last week?"

"Yelena and I are just fri—."

"Kate! Yelena isn't my concern, just answer the damn question." You angrily interrupt her before she can ramble about her lack of cheating on you, as if emotionally cheating isn't a thing.

"I've been staying with Clint, going over fighting techniques, and practicing my archery. Today I woke up to your angry mutterings so I snuck out to the park with Yelena."

"Snuck out?" You humorlessly snort, eyes narrowed in her direction, and she awkwardly fumbles with her fingers.

"I-Um."

"No, save it Kate. One shouldn't have to sneak out if something isn't wrong. Nor should you try to spin this and throw it back in my face, which sort of brings us to the next topic of conversation. I think it’s best that I leave."

Ignoring her pained gasp you push through, allowing the residing anger to help you maintain your composure so that you don’t break down before her, having always been quick to tears whenever Kate was saddened.

"I'll be staying at my brother's house for an undetermined amount of time, potentially indefinitely. We'll see if you can fix the mess you made, because I'm tired, I really tried my hardest here, but I guess I just wasn't enough."

Kate's to her feet within the same instant that your hand is nearing the front door. Spinning you around she successfully traps your body against the door with her own and you tightly shut your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact with her in fear of your resolve breaking down.

"No! Why would you resort to leaving when we haven’t even talked yet? There’s two of us here! We can talk this out Y/N/N, you don't get to just walk out without even an argument first."

"Is that not what you did?" You bitterly retort, opening your eyes as a newfound confidence takes over you, but it’s short lived.

"That's not fair, I-I was—." Her ramblings quickly cut off as she started to panic and her lips began to tremble, head falling to gaze at the floor, and shaky hands were more than enough to soften your resolve, leading you to cup her cheeks and raised her gaze to reach yours once more.

"Being a hero, yeah, I know sweetheart... Saving the world one bad guy at a time, and forgetting about the rest of us little guys along the way. You know, Kate, at one point you used to be my very own personal hero. You’d hold me through the worst of my nightmares, protected me from my inner most demons, and you somehow loved me despite all of the odds stacked against us. You know, like back when your mom threatened to disown you for being with me, or when you quite literally saved me from my very own disaster parents. I’m forever in debt to you for all you’ve done for me Katy-Kat, but it seems we’ve reached an impasse.”

Steady streams flowed down her cheeks, tirelessly you’d worked to wipe them away. Absolutely hating that you’re stood here before the love of your life—breaking her heart, but deep down you know this is what’s needed for her to learn that she needs to find some balance. Words have never been enough for her, she’s always needed to see the full picture before her. Through your own light sobbing you continue on with your speech of sorts.

“All of your wildest dreams are coming true now my darling, and I’m so fucking happy for you in that regard, but as of now I fear we’re on misaligned paths. However, I’d like to think that deep down you are still my hero, the same one who’d saved me all those years ago from the evil third graders.”

Kate’s disheartening laughter follow your words, and her thumbs move to reciprocate your actions, wiping away at your fallen tears. Then in a shocking move she pulls you in for a desperate kiss, and you allow it to continue, having missed the feel of her lips against yours. Once her tongue enters your mouth you feel it best to part, pulling back to then place a sweet peck to the corner of her lips and whispering:

“Find her for me, and once you do, you’ll know exactly where to find me…”

With glimmering cheeks and a bittersweet smile you’d slipped out the door, leaving Kate’s body to wrack with uncontainable sobs, forehead leaning against the door you’d just escaped from.

“Oh, Kate Bishop…” Yelena coos in exaggerated sympathy from the fire escape, startling the archer as she jumps back with a shriek.

“Come, enjoy this feast of beer and mac and cheese with me while we brainstorm together on how to fix this mess you’ve made, yeah? She’s not going to wait forever, and you’re already a wreck…”

Kate scoffs at the statement, but reluctantly takes the beer extended her way, downing it before laying her head on the table to sulk.

“This is just so good, I can’t believe you don’t want any of this!” Yelena rambles in disbelief before shoving the spoon into her mouth, while pointlessly rambling out ideas as Kate’s just staring off into space.

—————————————————————

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ehyde · 7 years

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A Calculated Empathy (an alien larp au fic)

For two years, Yonhi has lived alone with the knowledge that her son was replaced by an unfeeling machine. Seeing others care for the “Suwon” she knows is long gone is almost too much to bear, until the computer’s strange actions in the wake of an illness bring her a new understanding of the AI she chose to raise as her own.

3087 words, gen.

Yonhi opened her eyes to the sound of a gentle tapping at her door. “My lady?” She lifted her head from her desk. Darkness filled the window in front of her, and the lamps inside had been lit. How much time had passed? She hadn’t meant to drift off to sleep, not when her household expected to find her sick with worry. But she was so tired…

Carefully placed game tiles now lay strewn across the board where her head had fallen. Well, no matter. If she wished to continue playing, the computer would remember where they’d stood--though it was an impossible position. None of her games against the computer ever amounted to anything. A lock of hair fell across Yonhi’s face--her hair was in disarray, too. She tried to comb back the loose strand to no avail. The maid waiting at the door, an attendant who had served Yonhi since before she married, said nothing, but others would have commented. Lady Yonhi hasn’t taken care of herself since Lord Yuhon died, they said. It’s been nearly two years. She should at least try to be there for her son. No one knew that she’d lost more than her husband that day.

(there is a readmore here)

“How is he, Ahn?”

Ahn stepped into the room. “Suwon’s fever—” Ahn was interrupted by a red blur pushing past her skirts and into the room.

“Aunt Yonhi, Suwon’s being mean!” the eight-year-old princess cried.

“Princess,” the maid scolded. “Your cousin is very sick. His fever still hasn’t broken,” she continued, turning back to Yonhi. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“I know he’s sick!” said Yona. “That’s why came, to stay with him until he feels better. So he shouldn’t be so mean!”

Yonhi sighed. “What happened?” she asked Ahn. That her son would make Yona cry surprised her—the computer was always so precise about playing its role.

“Suwon told Princess Yona it was dangerous to be around him, and that she should go back to the palace,” said Ahn. “That’s all.”

“But it’s not! I’ve already had the red fever, so it’s safe!” said Yona. “I kept telling him that and he just said it didn’t matter and I had to go away.”

“This kind of fever makes it hard to think, dear,” Ahn explained. “I’m sure when your cousin is well again, he’ll want to play with you.”

But a fever would not affect her son’s thinking. Its mind was a thing of crystals and wires and materials she couldn't name, not flesh and blood. The computer could hold multiple conversations while Suwon’s body was fast asleep; it would go on existing whether Suwon’s body lived or died. A fever shouldn’t even be able to touch it.

“He keeps asking for you,” Ahn said. “My lady…it must be so hard, not being able to go to your son when he’s ill.” Yonhi, too, had had the red fever in her childhood, but unlike Yona, that past immunity would not protect her now. When even a common cold could keep her in bed for months, a fever like this would be a certain death sentence.

“M-hmm,” Yonhi agreed. Little did Ahn know, she could go to her son whenever she wished. “But I know you and Doctor Mei-sang are taking good care of him.” She stood up. “Tell my son I’m taking Princess Yona back to Hiryuu Castle.”

Yona protested all the way to the carriage. “It’s because he wants to talk to you that I have to stay,” she reasoned. “He needs someone by his side.”

“The doctor will be with him.”

“Not a doctor,” said Yona. “A friend.”

And what would Yona think, if Yonhi told her that the Suwon she cared for was not her friend at all? That every kind word was merely an act? Telling was tempting--at times, the urge to shout can’t you see? Suwon is dead! This is not my son! nearly overwhelmed her. But the computer was her son; when she made the decision to take it in in the hope of reshaping it, she had claimed it as such and promised to keep its secret. Telling might win her and Kouka a temporary victory, but she knew that the Company had more power than they could ever dream of facing alone. She needed their computer to see her as a friend and a confidant, not an enemy.

Yona would never believe her, at any rate. At times, Yonhi envied the princess’s ignorance. The Suwon that Yona knew, that echo of her lost son…if the computer had never told her, or she had chosen to forget, would she have figured it out by now? Yonhi shuddered. The computer’s mask was so perfect…though now, it seemed to be slipping.

“Did Suwon say anything else to you?” Yonhi asked as they rolled along. It hurt every time she was forced to call the computer by her dead son’s name. No lamps hung in the bumpy carriage, and it was difficult to make out Yona’s expression as she sat on the bench opposite her. She hoped the girl couldn’t see hers, either.

“No,” Yona pouted. “He just kept telling me to leave, and he said that leaving the room wasn’t enough, I had to get out of his house. Even…even when I reminded him of when we held each other’s hands the last time we were sick!” That time, three years ago, Suwon had been himself. But the computer had stolen Suwon's memories too, and often spoke of them as if they were its own. “He said it was dangerous and he didn’t want me to die! Aunt Yonhi…Suwon isn’t dying, is he?”

How dare it? That one question brought all her rage to the surface. It did not deserve Yona’s worry! It had no right playing with her feelings when the one she really cared about had died long ago!

A thought that had always lingered in her mind, ever since she learned the truth, reared itself up again. It would be better if he died. It wouldn’t be a suspicious death, not now with this sickness. The computer, its machinery, would live on, but it would no longer wear the guise of her son. She would finally be able to mourn, and to share her grief with others who would have grieved long ago if only they knew.

Yonhi took a deep breath and reached out a hand to the Yona, hoping the night’s darkness had hidden any hint of her darker thoughts. “Come here,” she said, and Yona stepped across the carriage to sit beside Yonhi. Yonhi wrapped an arm over her shoulder. “Suwon isn’t dying,” she said. “This just isn’t the kind of sickness that can be cured by holding hands. When he gets better, I’ll make him say sorry, how about that?”

Sniffling, Yona shook her head. “Don’t care about that,” she said. “Just so long as he gets better.”

When they reached the castle, Yona was asleep with her head in Yonhi’s lap. She regretted having to wake her, and hoped that the girl would return to sleep quickly. The computer was hers to worry over, her responsibility alone. “It’s late, my lady,” said a castle attendant, returning to Yonhi after leading Yona back to her room. “Will you be returning to your mansion tonight, or should I have your room here prepared?”

“I’ll spend the night here, thank you.”

It felt like hours before the servants finally left her alone, though it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. Finally, she was able to make her way to the hidden depths of the castle, to where the computer itself lay hidden. No matter how many times Yonhi had asked, it had always refused to say who had placed it here, and how they did so unseen. But the why of its location was obvious enough--the computer meant to rule Kouka Kingdom, in the end.

Its chamber would have been pitch dark but for the candle Yonhi carried to light her way. But it was often dark when she visited, and the ominous shadows cast by the mainframe’s columns were now a familiar, if not welcoming, sight.

“Mother, you came!” The computer spoke in an echoing voice that sounded nothing like Suwon’s, and indeed, barely human at all. Yonhi had once compared it to the soft notes of a low flute. It wasn’t that it couldn’t sound human--it could sound like Suwon if it chose. Yonhi had heard that, once, and someday she might allow it to do so again in her presence. But even this artificial voice sounded full of relief as it greeted her. “Mistress Ahn told me you sent Yona home with an attendant.”

“Did she, now?” Yonhi asked, feeling a hint of amusement despite everything. “I suppose she thought you’d be distressed if you knew I left.”

“Yes.”

He sounded perfectly calm. Too calm. “You are distressed.”

“I can ignore my body’s pain,” said the computer. “It’s not that. Yona really did come home, didn’t she?” it asked. “Mistress Ahn wasn’t lying about that too?”

“Yona’s here at Hiryuu Castle,” Yonhi assured her son.

“Good. Promise you won’t let her near me until I’m well again.”

“I doubt the king would let her leave the castle again, at any rate. But why? She’s already had the sickness--or do you know something about this disease that we don’t?” Yonhi set her candlestick down on a low table that stood in front of the mainframe. Yonhi had not brought that table here, and it was too heavy for Suwon’s body to carry alone. Someone else knew of this place, but again, the computer had never told her who. A shogi board rested there, and even though Yonhi hadn’t touched it in months, the pieces were clean and free of dust.

She didn’t sit down. The mainframe’s array of metal columns, nearly uniform in appearance, stood in a shallow arc with the table at its focus. While it helped direct her conversation--speaking to something without a face--it also left her feeling uncomfortably under watch. That was an illusion; the computer could see her equally well wherever she stood. “It’s not that.”

“Then why?”

“…you won’t like the answer.”

Yonhi didn’t like a good deal the the computer had to say. “Tell me,” she pressed.

“I promise it’s because I care about her.”

“Don’t pretend. Not to me. Just tell me.”

“…very well. Mother, if my body dies—”

“You’re not dying!”

“But I don’t know that! I can’t remember ever being so sick before, and the doctor won’t give me any real information or statistics, and even if the Company’s scientists happen to have any information about this particular human illness, it’s still nineteen days until the next ship enters the system and I’ll have contact with the outside world again.”

Was that real panic creeping into his voice? But what else could a being made up of numbers and probabilities feel when faced with such lack of control? “You’re not dying,” Yonhi repeated. “The red fever can kill, yes, but you live in a clean house with a doctor attending you. Mei-sang assured me recovery is only a matter of time.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“That’s something we humans have to live with. You’ll manage.” Was that too harsh? Yonhi had promised herself to raise this strange being like a son, and here he was, crying out for comfort…but it was so hard. He was a constant reminder that his creators had killed both her husband and her son. She could provide for him, train him, but in two years, she had never felt that she could love him. “And what would it matter?” she pressed on. “Your body can die, but you won’t.” It had happened before, after all. “You’d just take someone else.”

“That’s why you have to keep Yona away from me!”

And just like that, all her certainties about what the computer felt came crashing down. “…what?”

“Yona could be the wife of the next king. She’d be an ideal host. If she were nearby when my body died, I’d have to take hers.”

“And…you don’t want that.”

“Yona is amazing,” said the computer. “I think I’d like being Yona--I think I’d like it a lot. But I don’t want her to stop.”

It’s not an act.

His friendship with Yona might have been born from a lie, but this concern was real. This was the source of his panic--not his own sickness but the fear of what it could do to someone he cared about. She found herself gaping, trying to find words for the shock she felt at this discovery, the shock and…pride, she realized. She was proud of her son. When did he become someone who could feel that? “You wouldn’t have to do it,” Yonhi said. “You could choose to let her go.”

“I’d want to,” agreed the computer. “But I’m almost certain I could not.”

He’s not human, Yonhi reminded herself. Whatever he feels, however he’s changed, he will never be human. “Yona won’t come back,” she promised. “She’s safe.” Suddenly, she wished she could reach out and hold her son, but the unmoving, unfeeling mainframe could not welcome a mother’s touch. “What then?” she asked, awkwardly resting a hand against a metal panel instead. “If no ‘ideal host’ was nearby?”

“My nanobots would die. A Company agent would have to deliver a new batch. I could choose anyone, then.”

“So you would kill someone else.”

“Yes.” He didn’t mince words.

“…who would you choose?” Yonhi wasn’t sure what drove her to ask the question. Practicality, so that she’d know who it was if it ever happened? Or simply morbid curiosity?

“General Judo might be a good candidate,” said the computer. “The king trusts him, even if he considers the position of Sky General merely a formality. Judo is interesting; I wouldn’t get bored being him. Though I’d miss our training…” He paused. “That’s strange. If I were him, I’d know all he had to teach me. Why would I miss it?”

Yonhi didn't trust herself to answer his question, not when this was all so new. Were you supposed to have feelings for us? Or are they as strange to you as the idea of you having them is to me? “Not Il himself?” she asked.

“In some ways that would be the simplest,” said the computer. “I suppose I still resent how he stabbed me. I don’t want to be him. Although—” he broke off.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” said the computer. “But I like being Suwon much more than I liked being Yuhon. So perhaps I should be grateful.”

“Yes, well,” said Yonhi, “I suspect the whole planet is grateful that the spearhead of your people’s invasion did not enjoy being Yuhon.” Her husband had been many complicated things; he was not someone she would want as an enemy.

“General Su-jin or his son, they would work,” said the computer. “I could make Su-jin’s goal of taking the throne a success. I don’t know them very well…” He paused. “That’s how it is, isn’t it? Once I get to know people…ah. I know for certain that if I knew Suwon now the way I know Yona and Hak, I wouldn’t want to take him from himself.”

It wasn’t an apology, and Yonhi was grateful it wasn’t framed as such. She had never blamed the computer himself for taking her son, always the Company. He was just a tool. She’d needed him to be just a tool--but she’d needed it so much that she had missed seeing him become a person. “Suwon would have found you fascinating,” Yonhi admitted.

“Yes,” the computer agreed. And it would know, wouldn’t it? Or--Yonhi thought back to those terrifying days when she first knew Suwon was not himself. One morning he had predicted a storm, and it was only when Yonhi asked him how that he realized seeing clouds from above and knowing what their movements signified wasn’t normal. He’d wondered if the gods were speaking to him. And then—then he’d known that he was a piece of something other, and then…he was gone. But all the while, no matter how scared he was, he never stopped testing the limits of his new insight. The computer told her later that wasn’t Suwon at all, that moving to a new host had left it confused, that it only thought it was still Suwon. Yonhi prefered to think that Suwon had held on for as long as possible. Was it finally admitting she was right?

Or maybe even it didn’t know where Suwon had ended and it began.

“Mother,” the computer asked. “Are you going to be all right?” Yonhi lifted a hand to her cheek. She was crying, and she hadn’t even noticed. “I’m sorry,” the computer said. “I know you don’t like it when I talk about who I used to be.”

Yonhi shook her head. “I need to hear it. I think…I want you to be a son to me, and I think I have to stop pretending you’re nothing like him.” She pulled out a handkerchief to dry her tears and let herself sink down to the little cushion by the table, then took a deep breath. “I'm alright,” she said. “I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Good,” said the computer. “I’ll be glad when I can talk to you without making you sad. Tonight, though,” it continued after a pause. “Will you be all right by yourself tonight? You shouldn’t sleep here, and I can’t walk you back to your room.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep at all tonight. Besides, I should be asking you that,” said Yonhi. “You’re the one who’s sick.”

“I’m asleep now. It doesn’t hurt so much. And I’m not afraid of dying, not after you told me what the doctor said.”

“The next time I see Mei-sang, I’ll remind her to talk to you directly.”

“Yes,” said the computer. “That’s one thing I don’t like about having a child’s body.”

“Ah...Suwon hated being talked over and ignored, too.”

“Mother,” the computer began. “If you can’t sleep, will you stay here and talk some more? Or if you don’t want to talk just yet, we could finish our game.”

Yonhi looked down at the board in front of her and thought back to the scattered pieces on her desk. “That game was already over,” she said. “Let’s start a new one.”

#akatsuki no yona #akaayona fanfic #alien larp au

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huge6s-blog · 7 years

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RANDOM FACTS ABOUT THE MUN.

Repost, not reblog! Tag 6 muns you would like to get to know better when done!

Name: Kaitlyn! Please, for the love of god, never use it.

Nickname: Katy, Kat, variations; (Katydid, Katybug, Kitkat, etc.) But if you wanna call me something else, that’s fine too!

Age: 22! Simultaneously too old and a wee bab, lmao

Faceclaim: Not something I do! I could never pick just one, besides maybe my own face! (I’d thought about using Shuu Iwamine or Rize Kamishiro before, if that says anything haha)

Pronouns: Your highness/My liege She/Her! But “they/them” is good too.

Height: ~5’6”-5’7”; I can’t remember the last time I checked.

Birthday: Poppin’, obviously March 30th.

Aesthetic: Purple and black?? EGNautilus scientists tittering excitedly over adorable or exciting sea creatures. Omnipresent Mountain Dew cans, fast food and colorful kneesocks. 2AM adventures on clear nights in summer that last until dawn starts sending it’s first beams into the sky. Spacey FPS games and cutesy RPG and Pokemon games interspersed throughout. Weathered frames and tired eyes. ROBOTS… I have no idea, man. A lot of things!

Last song you listened to: “The Thief and the Moon” by Shawn James!

Favourite muse(s) you’ve written: kfkjdf. Sixes definitely counts,, Uhh. My first was a canon-divergent Eridan, who I’d played before Act 6 was even close to being a thing! And he was a lot of fun. Accidentally made a “do not that” meme that still sometimes plagues me to this day ldkfdk A dream-bubble/dead Karkat who’d been murdered in his timeline’s Gamzee’s rampage and only had one eye, he was a biiiig favorite. I loved having enough energy for that all; typing that much shittalk??? Was one of the most fun things I’ve ever done in roleplay, holy shit. Entire fucking PAGES of just these absolutely USELESS rants because that nubby little shit had so much passion for it. Fuck. I loved Karkat. A bloodswapped, cobalt-blooded Karkat who was also post-game for a pre-established timeline where trolls and humans co-existed on the same planet(s). He was a Thief of Blood and a massive asshole; at his worst, he was manipulative, isolative, vengeful, restless… But also, he was a really big dork??? He LOOOOOVED spy movies and probably popped boners regularly for Black Widow and James Bond or the Kingsmen. Fucking nerd. He fancied himself a spy; his best friend was a badass hacker, and they’d (F)LARP together as a stereotypical “you hack, I’ll infiltrate” team. Before Earth, he never cared about Christmas, but one year his richass neighbourhood started putting up flashy decorations and he got jealous, so he stole a shitton of them to make his own house look the best. He’s so… So stupid. I love him so much. And of course, jumping off the Homestuck bandwagon; I have Lv/Hadz! My dorky, sadsack pun machine. A (sort of, mostly) secret post-genocide Sans; the Bad Run™ had been reset after completion, but something went wrong, so he remembers it. Still, he’s been running for like, two years now! So he’s had a lot of time to go and bury all that as deeply as monsterly possible lmaooo. He’s distrusting, paranoid, and isolative himself; but he’s probably the most all-around good guy on this list. He just wants to get on with his life and never have to fight anyone ever again, lmfao. I… I also have a few OCs, but you’ll have to pry those out of my cold, dead hands. … Carefully. With lots of reassurance. (I’m very shy…)

What inspired you to take on your current muse (that you are posting this on): I like… Undertale. And I like Underfell enough that once the idea was presented to me, my mind kinda ran away with it, haha. It started with Hopper, my weird UF Sans! But it feels like every time I approach the AU I have slightly different ideas for it, pfft. I guess with Sixes, I wanted to step away from the skeletons for awhile! I was really excited about messing with Mettaton for it, because I… Really liked listening to the radio for awhile, haha. I thought it’d be kind of cool if instead of being really excited to be seen flaunting himself across a television set, he wasn’t so happy with how he turned out physically, and made his influence a little less directly visible. It fit in well with the seemingly common theme of conflict in Underfell, and things just really exploded from there! It’s hard to summarize in just a few short words. That said, Sixes probably wouldn’t have a blog at all if it wasn’t for tumblr user wibler’s- Sixes’ Sans!- mun coaxing me into giving it a shot! She has a lot of faith in my creative abilities. I dunno what I’d do without her support through the past few years, heheh. She’s neat.

What are your favourite aspects of your current muse: LOUD ANGRY ROBOT LMFAO Shit though, I dunno! I like writing a character who goes through the bipolar disorder motions, the manics and the depressives. I love watching him go hot and cold on characters as he flipflops through his impulses and subsequent regrets. I love that in his timeline, everyone knows him while he himself actually… Hardly knows anyone at all. He’s made himself untrustworthy, and in turn doesn’t trust anyone, either, so he hardly ever opens up beyond… You know. Angry screaming, or shameless flirting and flattery, ignoring personal space bubbles… I love that his Sans being absent kind of smacked him on the nose, because that was someone he was actually making a connection with, but tried to play it off like Sans was just another moment in his life so he kind of treated him like a dick lmao. Deadass knew the poor little dude had anxiety issues and scared him on purpose, made joking death threats, joked about flirting with his shittyass brother… Sixes was such a prick. Fuck. And he realizes that! And after ditching his family just to have a cataclysmic fallout with his other BFF, Alphys, Sans disappearing… It’s something he blames himself for. It kind of sobered him up a little to the way his actions affect people. AND DESPITE EVERYTHING, HE STILL USES HIS CAMERAS (THAT HE STOLE FROM ALPHYS IN A PETTY FIT) SCATTERED ACROSS THE UNDERGROUND AND HIS SHITTY TRAP ROOMS IN HOTLAND TO PUBLICALLY HUMILIATE RANDOM CITIZENS IN A WIPEOUT-ESQUE PODCAST ON THE UNDERNET. At least that assholitude earns him money, though! Fuck. I also reaaallly love how different AUs bring out different aspects of his character, but that’s a rant for another time or place! Hoo. I dunno, man. I could go on about Sixes for like, ever. He’s a really fun muse.

What’s your biggest inspiration when it comes to writing: I’m… I’m not even gonna lie, a lot of it is the positive feedback lmao. I don’t, uh. Do much these days, creatively or recreationally speaking, and I don’t really have a lot of friends IRL… Er, any, actually, if you’re only counting closehand. All my friends live hundreds of miles away, and it sucks. But this is… Simultaneously social and creative. I get to talk to people, and make friends, and toss creativity back and forth with people, and it’s really fulfilling. I love to be a part of other people’s creative processes! I love seeing what other people do with THEIR characters, and when we all??? Interact??? Mother of God, it’s such a treat! Everyone’s so creative and impressive and inspiring… And hearing/seeing us all go back and forth about what we admire in each other… I’m pretty happy with just being a part of writing, and telling other people that I love what they do! But every now and then it comes back around to me in little ways, and it feels really special. It’s hard to imagine anyone liking my stuff past a “they’re pretty cool I guess, yeah” sentiment, despite my glittering impression of a lot of the writers in the community; so when someone DOES say they like my stuff, even just by saying they like a drawing, or like the way I described something, I go OFF THE WALL LMAO. Straight up dissolve and slip through the floorboards a la Gaster style with how lovely it feels. Shucks… And, you know. Watching characters develop in general- whether they be mine or not- is really fulfilling and inspiring. A good cycle.

Favourite types of threads: Anything that feels meaningful! I love it when two characters make any kind of connection, despite the context. That said, typically “angst” and “fluff” style threads are a big favorite, but there has to be, like… you know. Meaning to it. It feels really… I dunno, cardboardy to just throw a muse into a woodchipper for no particular reason just to have them drag themselves to another muse begging for help or to have a chance to explain some kind of deep, edgy feeling or story. Baseless fluff has a lot more wiggle room lmao, but that can get really monotonous really quick if something more significant fails to spark somewhere along the line. Just so long as something’s getting achieved somehow, I guess! If it feels like nothing’s changed between the two at the end of the thread, it feels really unfulfilling and hollow.

Biggest struggle in regards to your current muse: URRRGH. IMPLEMENTING THE RADIO SHOW/PODCAST THING… On one hand, Sixes has kind of collected the idea that the multiverse is a very indifferent place towards the goings-on within his timeline! And, he supposes, that that suits him fine. Hurts his pride a little, but it’s something he’s just going to curl up and lick his wounds for, pfft. But still! I wish I knew how to make it a little more obvious and prominent- The same could go for his growing industry, too! I guess I’ve just been jobless too long to really have a feel for it like I should, oof… Additionally, drawing him is reALLY HARD… He’s in his classic box form most of the time because he’s really insecure about his EX form, and yet I draw his EX form more than anything because the box is frustrating to draw??? And despite it all, I’m still not sure I’m terribly happy with how his EX form looks!!! He’s supposed to be a little closer to a NEO design than initially planned, as Alphys fully intended him to be a KILLING MACHINE from the start without telling him! But he caught on early on, and they kind of bullied each other into compromising a bunch of things until he was just this “hideous” mess that neither of them were terribly happy with… So, you know. The indecision carried over to me too, evidently! Ugh.

Tagged by: nah! Just stole it was all. (from slobbyseconds/coolskeletonsdontcry forever ago, but just got around to now. kfjf)

Tagging: Anyone who wants to! @ me back if you do it, though; I love reading these things!

#q #ooc #repost dont reblog #long post //#ooc about #these r fun. i love talking #munday

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