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#not to ramble but. I am very interested to find out how dark road plays into the rest of the story
corviisquire · 24 days
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I’ve read the comments on my post abt soulsborne sleep token thing! Here’s some concept art I tried. More is on the way just… HW ew. Tagging people who were interested/encouraging this idea: @sleep-token @wingedinsect @moonchild-in-blue @foundationsofdecay @madsthenightowl @a-s-levynn
Undercut is me mindlessly rambling about what’s going on in my brain about this. Don’t read unless you like torturing yourself with reading.
I guess to start, I have only played Elden Ring (crucible knight more like crucible kill yours-IM JOKING), I’ve watched some lore videos on Elden Ring Bloodborne and DS1, haven’t played DS1 yet, and have all the art books except DS2 (cause nobody likes DS2). I’ve played very limited DND games. I’ve read lots of weaponry wiki pages but I have bad memory. If any information I say below is incorrect (like I say this sword is two-handed but it’s not or I misspell spauldor… spalder? Spauldron?) please correct me. I’m just using information I know and I’m always open to suggestions and feedback!
Random Lore Bits: Sleep and the Whale lived in peace but Sleep was always the higher deity. It created all that lives on the land and the TMBTE creatures. Sleep had many worhsippers but Vessel and the rest stood out. They were appointed as the highest knights of sleep. Vessel always had Sleep’s favor and therefore became Sleep’s vessel. Confusing I’m aware lmao. Sleep and Whale became enemies somehow and Sleep injured the whale, causing it to die. This time period before the Whale’s death was called Eden. NPCs speak of Eden all the time about how, “Peace and day has never been restored since Eden” “Eden is over” “If the whale were here, Eden would still be here”. All followers of Sleep become corrupt.
Bosses: Once killed, all bosses turn into statues and have branches grow out of them. They aren’t dead, just dormant. You can fight them again but returning to their fight area and making an offering of a certain amount of tokens. Once defeated again they return to being dormant. If you defeat all resurrected bosses (fought each one twice) you get smth called a Talisman of Blood (important later).
Regular enemies: Idk skeletons???? Giant birds??? Snakes???? Giant insectoids Idk bro???
Location: Like Elden Ring lands between, it’s called Fields of Elation. The capital city is either Nazareth or Jericho. I’ll try to incorporate Calcutta somehow. Geography is a mix of frigid coast, deep dark forest, large cavernous cave strictures, old ruined castles with mysterious rusty machinery inside, sparatic temples to sleep (all whale temples were destroyed), and the remnants of towns. Large trade road that goes through the entirety of the land is called the Path of Reason??? Idk bro I’m spitballing.
Currency: Tokens. Killing enemies and bosses earns you large amounts of tokens and like how runes work, you can level up you and your armaments with them.
Waypoints: Sites of grace, bonfires, more like RITUALS (I am not funny). I think calling waypoints rituals makes sense.
Flasks HP/FP: Estus Flask, Flask of Crimson/Cruelean Tears…. How about Flssk of H I G H W A T E R. Nah I’m kidding. No idea! Suggestions are open! I’m reading lyrics and nothings jumping out.
Incantations/Spells: Can be equipped to magic armaments and weapons! Kinda like you can choose between spell sword or just being a wizard.
Player Character: Tarnished, undead, hunter…. No idea what to call them. Robes and garments Very inspired by TPWBYT. Thinking the whale was an ancient god defeated by Sleep. Player Character is gifted with a certain power of the whale and was resurrected to defeat Sleep. Game opens with epic cutscene and player charter emerges from a cavern (TLYW) and goes through it before finding themselves on the coast of a freezing raging sea and an inviting forest. There’s probably one class you play as cause I’m lazy and you just collect armor and new weapons on the journey. TLYW style robes with greaves, hood, and gauntlets. Basic longsword.
Vessel: I’ve read the feedback and I agree that staff needs to stay. Live laugh staff. I’ve seen a few Elden ring builds where it’s right armament is staff for casting the long range stuff and left armament is a short sword, miséricorde (mercy dagger), scimitar(?), or other various short weapons. I like the image of this because I imagine him having somewhat light armor so if you’re far away, he spell. If you’re close, he stab. Spells are gonna be red. Change my mind. I like the Elden Ring boss Maliketh’s magic attacks so I imagine something like that. I imagine his boss fight starts with epic cut scene with him kneeled in a big arching cathedral temple type place and he’s like, “you seek to defeat the vessel of Sleep, foolish warrior? I have not known defeat against those of the sea nor those of Sleep” or some crazy bs like that. Half health, hands of Sleep show up and swipe and grab and Player Character. Just giant spindly hands that appear and float around. Attempts to break away form Sleep control but fails so that why he evil >:}
II: Dual wielding… what? No idea. I want him to dual wild some sort of straight weapon cause like drumsticks but honestly… sickles are so badass… Med. to light armor so he can move around a lot. Some sort of helmet with feather Mohawk. Boss area is probably in a fort outside of the main city. Just you and this guy. Get ready for a stamina check.
III: I’m torn between frenzied flame/black flame style magic user or spell sword. If magic, light armor. If spell sword, med. armor. Boss fight in a large old temple, candlelit and torn tapestries everywhere. Better have some fire immunity talismans on you.
IV: Halbert. All the way. Heavy armor my guy. Idk not much to say. Thinking banished knight ornstein inspo?? Boss fight Outside the gates to Vessel/Sleep’s castle. Vigor check time!!!
Chokehold: large dark cavern with webs strung about. It appears from above like, “A traitor to Sleep, hm? Pity. You seemed like you would be a good asset to the Vessel’s artillery.” Big axe time. High HP high strength boss. Vulnerable spot is probably its stomach area. Gives you armor, weapon, talisman, and incantation “Branches in a Flood” (roots sprout from the ground and entangle enemy).
The Summoning: Player probably stumbles upon the fight after meeting Aqua Regia and Granite. Mean killing machine. Idk what else to say erm… maybe player interacts with a sleep token symbol on a pillar with runes and it summons (pun intended) the summoning creature??? Stonehenge lookin boss area. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
Granite: Relatively peaceful NPC. Dialogue options are cool and it probably raises stats and alters your armaments. Quest line ends with Granite maybe just becoming dormant or it becomes a member of sleep again and sad boss fight initiates. Drops its armor, axes, root/weed talisman that increases stamina and immunity.
Aqua Regia: Chill and never ends in boss fight. Probably lets you summon them during other boss fights. Spear and sword. Gifts you new armor and talismans. Quest line maybe ends with them becoming too weak to keep battling and becomes dormsnt. You get their armor, spear, sword, rose talisman that raises FP, and a spell/incantation that shoots gold acid rays called Gold Rush or smth similar (Like Aqua Regia? Get it?)
Vore: Awesome boss. Inflicts poison damage for sure. I think we can all imagine how fighting Vore would be. In a poison lake haha it wants you to suffer. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
Ascensionism: Swords swords swords. Pulls a Starscourge Radahn and turns a meteor and player has to dodge lmao (cause yk ascending). Boss area is probably in a giant colosseum that’s old and crumbling. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
Are You Really Okay?: Player character pulls a stupid and decides to touch and inspect the strange incubator with a fetus inside and AYRO appears and is like “DONT TOUCH MY CHILD” initiate boss fight. Small castle is the boss fight area. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
The Apparition: Big guy, big hammer. Boss fight is somewhere in a forest clearing. No other ideas for it. Drops weapons, armor, talisman, incantations like everyone else.
DYWTYLM: Chokehold but with tiny dagger and looks like a giant engine. Probably shoots fire from the pipes on its body? Chokehold is PISSED if you defeat this guy first. Brothers fr fr. Boss fight in an old building filled with machinery. Speed is low but HP is super high. Drops armor, weapons, incantations, and talisman.
Rain: Your magic immunity better be HIGH. Renala style fight: Crazy hits, bad defense. Probably drops some crazy cool incantations, armor (really bad armor), and a talisman of fire immunity and raises your FP. Boss fight area is in a shiny crystaly forest area surrounded by weeping willow/wisteria like trees.
Take Me Back To Eden: The last boss before Vessel. Killer fight. Armor is also fire??? Difficult but probably super dope. Boss fight is in a SUPER large hallway in the castle of Sleep. Drops weapons, armor, talisman of resistance against airborne attacks.
Euclid: NPC that’s probably cranky and hesitant to befriend you at first. Still a follower of Sleep but respects the players fate to defeat the sleepmiester (I’m so tired bro—). Might fight you idk.Once dormant, drops and old mask of Vessel, a few incantations, and armor.
Endings: Endings one: You defeat vessel, sleep becomes dormant and no gods rule over the land. Retires and vessels are resurrected. Endings 2: You defeat vessel and become the new Vessel of Sleep. No difference from first ending, you just chose if ya wanna be evil or not. Endings 3: If you acquire the Talisman of Blood, Sleep sees you worthy to fight them without using a vessel. Radagon Elden Beast situation. When you defeat sleep, the whale is resurrected.
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honey i’m home and spider in the wall for aqua (or anyone else if you’d prefer!)
I think these are fine for Aqua, so I’ll answer them for her if that’s alright! Thank you very much for these, Ginger!~
(question source: “ghost ask game” by ribbitships)
HONEY I’M HOME - What constitutes as a home for your F/O? Do they often change their definition of home, or do they tend to stay in place? - Aqua’s home is the Land of Departure, a neutral world outside the realms of light and darkness that has long been the site for training new Keyblade wielders (or at least, it certainly seems like it’s been used for that purpose for a long time, but that might depend on how closely Dark Road links it to Scala ad Caelum). As the current successor and Keyblade Master who resides in that world, as well as someone who I headcanon has spent most of her life living there as an apprentice to Eraqus, Aqua very much sees it as her home and has done for a long time. Though, if anything were to happen to it - which, admittedly, it has, even if Aqua was then able to restore it afterwards - I think she would be able to find a home anywhere as long as it was with her friends.
Spider in the Wall - How much does your F/O keep to themselves, and how much do they think that you know about them? What things have you learned about them that they don’t realise that you know, or that they don’t know or see about themselves? - hmm.. I would say that Aqua keeps quite a bit to herself, but not on purpose, if that makes sense - she doesn’t deliberately withhold information when asked or anything, it’s just that she is quite modest so she doesn’t really often say much about herself unless specifically asked. I like to think that she also has lots of little habits and quirks that even she isn’t really aware of, but that Aria has noticed with time. Being a Heartless, Aria can quite literally see right through to the hearts of people, so she is likely to pick up on those kinds of things, especially with someone she cares about so much.
I hope that these answers were alright! Thank you very much again for sending the questions in ^-^
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Laisse tomber les filles 4
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses
This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.
Note: Things are starting to pick up but Lee’s still playing low key.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
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The book club let out on Friday and you quietly packed up your fraying copy of Nabokov, happy you would finally be able to throw it on the shelf and forget about it. As you pulled on your jacket and hooked your bag over your shoulder, Andre, the star of the club, approached you. He wasn’t as curt as Nora but he still made you feel daft.
“Hey, you like the book?” he asked.
“Um, yeah, I guess,” you answered, “I never really read anything like it before.”
“It’s definitely no Secret Garden,” he quipped.
“Oh, but I read the Bell Jar already, that’s the next book, right?” you countered.
“But did you really read it?” he challenged, “did you soak in the depth of the words?”
“I’m sure my second reading will help with that,” you said plaintively, “I think even, I’ll enjoy it even more.”
“It is more of a woman’s book,” he said tritely, “where are you going now?”
You went to the door and he followed you casually. You walked down the hall and shrugged as your sole tapped on the wooden floorboards.
“Oh…” you stopped yourself from saying no where, “actually, someone’s expecting me.”
“Oh ha, really? I saw those flyers they hand out. That’s one of the tips, say you’re being expected so the creep doesn’t follow you,” he rolled his eyes, “I was just asking, I’m not tryna pick you up or anything.”
You came out in the early spring dusk and stopped at the top of the stone steps. “I know you weren’t, I only… I am supposed to be somewhere.”
“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a reading partner--”
A honk came and cut off his invitation. You glanced over at the black and white cruiser then back at Andre. You gave a weak smile.
“Maybe,” you answered, “sorry, that’s my ride.”
“So you’re dad’s a cop?” he wondered.
“My dad?” you shook your head, “he’s… a uh, friend.”
“Friend,” Andre echoed and another honk came, “he’s sure impatient.”
“Sorry, I should go.”
“See ya next week,” he called after you as you stumbled down the stairs.
“Yeah, see ya,” you tossed over your shoulder.
You approached the cruiser and Lee got out to open the door. You got in and waited for him to settle on the other side of the seat. You watched Andre stroll down the pavement and catch up with Van.
“You didn’t have to honk, I saw you,” you said quietly.
“Who was that then?” Lee asked as he steered onto the street.
“Just some guy from the club,” you replied.
“So, shakes?” he asked.
“Can we stop by my dorm first?” you hugged your bag anxiously.
“Why’s that?”
“I want to give you back those clothes, I can’t wear them,” you said.
“What? They’re a gift,” he furrowed his brow but you looked away before he could glance back at you as he stopped at the sign.
“It’s too much and they… they won’t fit me,” you said.
“Well, did you even try them on? You’re young, it’s the new style, I thought--”
“But why would you even think to buy me anything?” you interjected. 
He inhaled and said nothing. His breath rose like a growl as he passed the road that led to your dorm. He switched gears and headed for the south exit of the campus.
“Don’t interrupt me. Ever,” he snarled, “and I was being nice, honey. It’s nothin’ bad, just a gift ‘cause I thought it’d look pretty on ya.”
“It’s not that I’m not, er, grateful, I only--”
“No thank you, no nothing,” he moped, “you really hurt me, girl.”
“No, it’s not like that. I just--”
“Just what? I saw you back there, tryna act like you don’t know me in front of that boy,” he grumbled, “‘cause I’m old, right?”
“We were talking, I was just saying goodbye,” you returned, “I don’t know why you’re being like this-- Can you please turn around and just take me home?”
“You promised me a date,” he huffed, “so we’re going… next time you can wear your new clothes.”
“Date?” you sputtered, “Sheriff, please, I want to go home.”
“My name’s Lee, honey,” he purred, “I wanna hear it on your tongue.”
“Wha--” he snaked his arm over and slid his hand onto your leg, just beneath your bag.
“Go on and say it,” he squeezed, “please.”
You swallowed and stiffened as you stared down at your lap.
“Lee,” you eked out.
“Good girl,” he snickered.
“Please, I don’t want a shake, I want to go--”
“I ain’t done nothing, honey, don’t be so dramatic,” he drew his hand away, “have I?”
You were quiet. He hadn’t really done anything more than be a bit grumpy. The touch was nothing, wasn’t it? Just a friendly gesture, trying to calm you down. And he bought you nice things and expected nothing but you to like it. It really seemed like you’d done something wrong the more you thought about it.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“Nah, don’t be, I’m happy as long as you’re here,” he turned off of campus and sped up, “I read that book, you know? Lolita. Made patrol a bit easier. I haven’t read a book for years. It was… interesting.”
“You read it?” you flinched.
“Oh, yeah, it was… the man, Humbert, messin’ with a child, that’s some sickness there,” Lee mulled as he kept his eyes on the road, “don’t you think?”
“Um, yeah,” you answered, “I think it was also about, um, you know, an unreliable narrator and how stories unfold differently for people. How we can experience the same thing but not in the same way… I don’t know.”
“Hmm, yeah, that’s probably it,” he said, “but I just thought, that’s awful. You know, we’re adults, you and me. How old are ya, again?”
“I’ll be nineteen this summer, sir,” you replied.
“See, girls here can marry at sixteen,” he said, “but no twelve year old gettin’ hitched.”
“Oh, well,” you murmured, uncomfortable by his rambling, “can I try the vanilla this time?”
“Vanilla? Sure,” he smiled over the wheel, “think I’ll stick to strawberry, I like the sweet stuff.”
📚
The radio show came to an end and you fumbled with your empty cup. The dread still lingered in your chest. You counted the minutes until you could go home. The milkshake settled like a stone and added to your queasiness. Lee put his cup on his other side and yawned.
“Vanilla good?” he asked.
“Not bad,” you answered as he took the cup from you, “it’s late, hm?”
“Not that late,” he slid across the seat as the radio host picked up after the outro, “so you makin’ friends then?”
“Some,” you said, “just talking about schoolwork and, um, books.”
He was close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him. He pushed his arm over your shoulders and let his hand hang down above your chest. You went rigid and tried to sidle away.
“Sheriff?” you croaked.
“Aw, come on, honey, ain’t nothin’ wrong, just getting close, it’s cold, ain’t it?” his other hand came up and caressed your chin, “I like spending time with you… not havin’ to worry about my radio or criminals, just you.”
“I don’t… I think…” you grabbed his wrist, “I thought…”
“I’m just being nice, I’ll admit, I’ve grown a bit sweet on ya. You’re so pretty and that,” he slipped from your grasped and framed your chin and turned your head, “am I hurtin’ ya?”
“N-no, but I…” your lip quivered. 
Was this how it happened? Maybe every girl felt like this the first time a man was near. You didn’t know, you couldn’t. You stared at him wide-eyed as he leaned in and his breath grazed your lips. You smelled the sugary strawberry flavour.
“This hurt?” he asked as his lips brushed yours.
“No,” you gulped as he pulled you to him.
“And this?” he didn’t wait for an answered before he kissed you.
He pressed his lips to your and sucked on your bottom lip. His teeth nipped lightly and he shoved his tongue against the creased of your mouth until you opened it. You garbled as he filled your mouth and hugged you tighter. You were terrified and confused by the suddenness of it all.
You grunted and pushed on his chest. You turned your head away and gasped as you shoved him harder and he relented. His hand slipped to the bottom of your neck as he looked at you in disappointment. 
“What’sa matter?” he asked.
“I… I wanna go home, it’s late,” you whispered.
“Oh honey, don’t be scared, it’s a date, I’m just kissin’ ya good night.”
“I never… said it was a date,” you mumbled.
“And why not?” he pressed, “you’re an adult, I am too.”
“I don’t… know,” you uttered, “I never… never been on a date so I guess I wouldn’t know.”
“I didn’t mean to confuse you, I thought you knew,” he said, “a girl like you, I thought you had plenty of dates.”
You shook your head and chewed your lip. You stared at your shoes and wriggled away from him. You ran your fingertips along your jawline as you huddled against the door.
“Please take me home,” you breathed.
“I didn’t mean nothing by it, I just think you’re very sweet and… beautiful,” he reached out and took your hand gently, “I can go slow.”
“I just don’t know,” you didn’t pull your hand away as he held it.
“Ah, I get it, I’m old, I know it, I ain’t stupid,” he sighed.
“I don’t care about that,” you withdrew and wrung your hands in your lap, “I’m… embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” he repeated.
“That I never… That I don’t know about all that,” you confessed, “but I don’t wanna think about that now.”
“Can I see you tomorrow then?” he asked, “I wanna see your new clothes.”
“Sheriff,” you said.
“Lee,” he corrected sharply.
“Lee,” you hissed, “please, can you take me home?”
“Well, you just needa ask nicely is all,” he pushed himself in front of the wheel and jolted the whole car with the movement, “let’s get ya there all safe and sound and you can rest up for tomorrow, huh?”
“I gotta study tomorrow,” you argued.
“You can,” he assured you, “you come study at mine and I’ll make you a nice home cooked dinner, how about that?”
You sniffed and pouted, “sure, if you take me home.”
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morporkian-cryptid · 3 years
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Lupin III - The Castle of Cagliostro, and its extremely gay and romantic title scene
Hello everyone, this is your new installment of “Elliott rambles about her fandoms”!
Today I am going to be talking (well, mostly yelling) about the opening credits of Lupin III - The Castle of Cagliostro.
Because I’ve rewatched that movie almost two weeks ago, and I’m still going into a fit of hysterics every time I so much as think about it.
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[Image description: Lupin and Jigen sitting in front of the Fiat, with a small nomad cooking space set up. It is night, Lupin is reading a map and Jigen is holding a pan above a small gas stove. The lighting is dim and comes only for the stove. The subtitles of the song lyrics read “My love for you burns”]
https://twitter.com/spacequeenemily/status/1118274079662977025?lang=en
This Twitter link is the only video of the title scene I could find online; the image quality is a bit low but at least it’s the full scene. Please watch it, I promise you won’t regret it.
Fair warning: long post with much capslock, very swearing.
Okay, so.
The lyrics of this song, Fire Treasure, go more or less like this (from the subtitles of the movie, which I assume are the official translation) :
I want to go with you, searching for happiness / No matter how hard the road or how the night may grow cold / I just want to wander on with you
Who else is there to comfort and hold / This lonely traveler when their heart grows cold? / Who else but you can make all my dreams come true?
Like a raging fire my love for you burns / All I want is for you to know how I feel / Make me your prisoner and never let go
(additional lyrics which are on the wiki but not in the title sequence)
You, who wander the wasteland  / I want to let you sleep / The shooting star is for you
I want only you to understand / This love of mine that blazes with flames / I'll clear away the enigmatic mist
You can find the official japanese lyrics here on the Lupin III fandom wiki.
Now this is a pretty basic love song, and we know most of the theme songs in this series are love songs and it doesn’t always mean anything (looking at you, Red Jacket opening theme). The music itself (without the lyrics) is used several times during the movie, especially in scenes with Lupin and Clarisse; and reused later in several movies involving similar dynamics.
But the only time the whole song, with lyrics, plays in The Castle of Cagliostro, it’s during the opening credits / title sequence. Aka, Lupin and Jigen’s road trip.
Yeah. This longing, yearning love song about a lonely traveler and the person who silently loves them and wants to follow them through all the troubles of the road and look for happiness by their side... Is played along with of a video of Jigen and Lupin traveling together.
And oh, if only it was just that...
It could have been two guys being bros, two friends having a fun road trip together. They could have shown the banter and playful fights between them that we see in the rest of the movie. But NO. THIS is what they gave us instead:
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[The silhouettes of Jigen and Lupin sitting on and leaning against the Fiat, with a boat in the background and an orange sunset-like sky]
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[the Fiat driving on a narrow bridge in the middle of an expanse of water glistening and reflecting the pink and purple sky]
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[Lupin lying on his back in the grass, and Jigen sitting near him and cooking in front of a small portable gas stove, the Fiat parked next to them. It is night, and the gaz stove gives a soft glow, the only source of light in the picture.]
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[Lupin sitting on the roof of the Fiat and Jigen standing left of it. They are waiting for a train with wooden wagons to pass. There are white flowers in the foreground on the right of the screen.]
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[Night time, on a backdrop of dark blue sky with white stars. Lupin is sitting on the roof of the Fiat, lighting a cigarette (the Fiat itself isn’t in the frame). Jigen is standing near him, smoking a cigarette, with only his head visible. The subtitles of the song lyrics write “Make me your prisoner and never let go”.]
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[The same scene from a different angle, the Fiat is now visible, with grass in the foreground, Lupin is seen from the back and Jigen from head to feet. The dark blue sky is fading into white at the bottom, suggesting sunrise.]
They could have given us a fun, “straight pals being bros” road trip. Instead, they decided to give us a soft, nostalgic ambiance, with orange and pink sunsets, the boys wistfully looking into the distance under a starry night sky, smoking cigarettes together in silence, with the soft glow of a shared meal around a campfire. THEY MADE THE CHOICE TO MAKE THIS AS FUCKING ROMANTIC AS POSSIBLE. THEY WILLINGLY MADE THAT DECISION.
We all know that this franchise’s subtext is not exactly subtle in establishing, to name just one obvious example, Jigen’s orientation (hum hum kabuki-related slang, hum hum bootleg playboy magazine, hum hum shameless flirting with burly soldiers).
But THIS. This isn’t a “I hate women” joke. This isn’t a two-second frame showing a bootleg gay pinup magazine. This isn’t a subtle parallel between Lupin’s relationships with Fujiko and with Jigen. This is the most OBVIOUS and EXPLICIT bit of subtext I have ever seen in this goddamn subtext-packed series. This is A FUCKING LOVE SONG, WITH THE WORDS “MY LOVE FOR YOU BURNS” EXPLICITLY IN IT, PLAYED ON A VIDEO OF JIGEN AND LUPIN ON A ROAD TRIP WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC AND SOFT VISUALS POSSIBLE. ONE MINUTE AND FIFTY FIVE SECONDS OF TYPICAL ROMANTIC SCENE WITH TYPICAL ROMANTIC VISUALS AND A FUCKING LOVE SONG.
This can’t be an accident. You can’t accidentally make a scene like this. I mean come on, “Like a raging fire my love for you burns, I just want you to know how I feel” with a panning shot of a starry night sky and Lupin and Jigen silently sharing a smoke? HOW DO THEY THINK WE ARE GOING TO INTERPRET THIS? IS THERE ANY OTHER POSSIBLE FUCKING INTERPRETATION THAN “JIGEN IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH LUPIN?“ NO THERE ISN’T. THERE FUCKING ISN’T.
They go and try to tell us that Lupin and Jigen are just friends, they give Jigen barely believable female love interests whom he has little to no chemistry with, they write Jigen getting angry when he thinks Lupin might be gay, and then they turn around and make THIS. FUCKING. TITLE SEQUENCE.
It kills me because IT’S CANON but also it’s not! They’re not stating that Jigen loves Lupin, they’re not confirming that they’re a couple, at no point in the 50 years of existence of this damn franchise has either of them explicitly declared that they were in love with the other, and that is most likely never going to happen. But this fucking scene exists. This fucking scene is CANON, and it’s technically still subtext, but it is the most OBVIOUS and IN YOUR GODDAMN FACE subtext EVER.
Disclaimer: I agree that most of the anime and movies’ (still relatively un-subtle) subtext can be disregarded or interpreted as platonic if you want, and I absolutely respect anyone’s desire to interpret them as platonic friends. All visions and interpretations can coexist. That being said, I’m sorry but for this specific scene I will not, ever, budge from the position that it is a fucking romantic love scene and that there is no other possible interpretation, I’m sorry but just FUCKING LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT IT AND TELL ME THIS ISN’T MEANT TO BE ROMANTIC. I DARE YOU.
This scene is just at the VERY LIMIT of explicitly stating Jigen and Lupin’s love. But it’s STILL NOT EXPLICIT. The song says “I love you” but neither Jigen nor Lupin does. The song on its own could relate to any number of characters (and in the rest of the movie it relates mostly to Clarisse, and more generally to all the girls Lupin leaves behind). The video without the music, while being very sweet and having a romantic vibe, could still be interpreted as a road trip between friends. And yet. AND YET. They made the conscious decision to put THAT SONG with THESE IMAGES. And to then “leave it to our interpretation”.
The Castle of Cagliostro was the second movie of the Lupin III franchise. It came out in 1979, not even ten years after the first episode of the anime aired. This is one of the establishing movies of the franchise, the one that propelled Lupin III on the international scene, the door through which generations of fans have been introduced to the series. A now iconic and unmissable pillar of the pop culture myth that Lupin III has become, a jewel of hand-drawn animation, produced by one of Japan’s most internationally well known animated movie director, future founder of one of its most iconic studios.
This isn’t a “blink and you’ll miss it” nudge in an largely forgettable TV special with weird chara designs and a plot created by writers seemingly on crack. This isn’t a subtle nod to long time fans and shippers like Part 5 did in 2018. This is the FUCKING TITLE SEQUENCE of the CASTLE OF MOTHERFUCKING CAGLIOSTRO by HAYAO GODDAMN MIYAZAKI. AND IT’S A LOVE STORY.
It’s been a week and a half, guys. And I still want to scream. I will never be free. Lupin and Jigen are in love and the world needs to know.
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boldlyvoid · 3 years
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ain't it fun? | part 3
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summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.
warnings: season 4 episode 7 plot but spencer doesn't have to go through it all alone. mentions of child molestation and murder
word count: 2K
P1 P2
Spencer calls from Vegas of all places, he’s staying an extra few days after a case and he won’t be home. “Actually, if I buy you a ticket would you fly out here for me?”
“Are you crazy?” She laughs, “what’s really going on babe?”
She doesn’t call him babe very often but when she does she can always hear him blush, he’s so giddy and cute he smiles wide and licks his lips a few times, but he doesn't this time.
“I’m not doing the best.”
“Do you need your girlfriend or do you need a meeting?” She asks because she knows there is a huge difference.
“I need my best friend.”
When she arrives in Vegas, she takes a taxi to his hotel and sits in his room all alone until he’s done whatever he was up to. There’s an envelope on the floor, “you’ve got the wrong guy” written on the front in a hasty black chicken scratch.
She hides along the wall, making sure no one can see her under the crack of the door. She manages to keep one foot on either side of the door frame as she looks out the peephole to see an older white man walking away from the door. He’s in a work uniform, on the phone, he’s whispering.
Once she’s sure he’s off the floor, she grabs her things and leaves the room. Leaving the envelope on the floor, she calls Spencer from the stairwell.
“Hey, I’m on my way back now,” Spencer answers.
“Someone dropped an envelope off in your room. I didn’t touch anything I just walked out after the guy left… can I meet you in the bar instead?”
“Yeah! Of course,” he encourages her safety protocols, “I’ll make sure the envelope is safe first, thank you for being smart.”
“No problem," she laughs, he was the genius and he was still calling her smart for following her gut.
"I’m just walking down the stairs cause he took the elevator. He was white, 5’8 ish and older; balding with grey hair so I’m guessing he was in his 60s, and he was on the phone with someone,” she gives his description quickly before she could forget it. “And the envelope says you got the wrong guy on the outside.”
“I know who that is, thank you. I love you,” each phrase got quieter and quieter and she knew he was in the car with his co-workers.
“I love you too, see you soon.”
It’s midnight in Virginia, it’s only 9pm in Vegas and Spencer’s been losing his mind trying to solve a case for his own sanity. He was getting nowhere, he’s even tried hypnosis to take him back to when he was 4. But nothing was working.
He’s in the middle of begging his mother to remember, “mom, this isn’t about me. This is about Riley Jenkins.”
“It was always about you…” Diana whispers.
“Please, mom—“
“Spencer,” Y/N’s eyes shoot open.
She’s just been sitting there, barely getting to know Diana as Spencer explained what he remembers. It was very intimate, but she already knew about the dream. She knew one day he’d want to learn more, and now he was.
“Listen to what she just said, it was always about you,” she repeats the words and Spencer looks more confused.
She steps forward and takes Diana’s hands in hers, sitting her down on the edge of her bed as she looks at her carefully. “This is hard, I know you’re really trying and I know how hard it is to talk to Spencer when he’s like this. But how about you tell me the story? Why was the Riley Jenkins case more about Spencer to you?”
Diana clues in then, her eyes zoning out as she remembers everything and Spencer sits quietly in the corner. “Riley was a real boy, poor boy…”
He’s amazed by the fact she’s so calm and good with his mother. “Yes he was, mom, how did I know him?”
“Your father was the t-ball coach, you were really more interested in chess and so eventually he let you go from the team, and you ended up playing in the park with this older man; who was also watching Riley before he died,” Diana explained softly. “It could have been you.”
Spencer gets closer and closer, eventually, he’s kneeling in front of his mother like a little boy at storytime. “What was his name mom?
“Gary Michaels.”
David and Derek are really nice guys. She’s sitting with them in the bar while Spencer has a heart-to-heart with his parents at the police station. It’s been a long day, he’s learned a lot and she couldn’t wait to unpack it all with him.
“How come you don’t come out with him more often?” Derek asks, unsure of how to broach the subject, but he wants to know.
“What do you know about me, first of all? Because it’ll tell me everything I need to fill you in on,” she asks in a question in response to his.
“I know you met at a support group, I know he loves you, and I know you live with him now.”
She smiles, “I have a rare disability that many people don't believe in, I work from home and I make little art pieces for the different seasons to make money, I don’t really like going outside. much”
“But you flew all the way to Vegas for him?” Derek smiles knowingly.
She nods gently, “he’s still my best friend in the whole world, Derek.”
“Thank you,” is all he says, “you’ve helped him be the same Spencer I met when he started. You’ve brought the joy back to his life, it’s nice to get to know you more.”
He asks to get her a drink then, to make up for everything she’s been through that day. All she wants is ginger ale and Derek gives her a strange look, he really has no idea that she’s a recovering drug addict. Spencer has kept all her secrets nice and safe in his big and beautiful mind.
“I’m allergic to most alcohol,” she isn't lying but it works. “Especially dark tequila and all vodkas, it’s because they’re made from potatoes and I have a potato starch intolerance... you know actually sometimes even hand sanitizers that are made in alcohol facilities give me an allergic reaction as well.”
“Okay, that right there,” he teases, “that’s why he keeps you all to himself.”
She laughs, “that was a bit of a Reid ramble, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Derek’s smile is so soft. “It really was.”
When she finally sees him again, it’s been almost a full day since he called her and asked for her to fly into Vegas. He needed her moral support while dealing with his parents, and he knew she was the only person who knew the extent of what he felt for them. He tried his hardest to be the best kid in the world for both of them, and yet sometimes he feels like both a disappointment and an unwanted mistake.
They hug for so long when he finally enters the bar, that Derek gets up from the table and goes to find someone to occupy his time with. It’s Vegas and he’s Derek after all… it wasn’t going to be hard for him to have a woman hanging off of him soon, too.
Back in his hotel room, he passes out from exhaustion and she just stares at him. He’s been through so much that even his eidetic memory didn’t want to think about it anymore. normally he would recount his day to her with a smile, now he just sleeps peacefully for the first time in days.
He was so soft and sweet even after being through the most terrifying things the human mind and body can go through.
They take a few days off, his co-worker has a baby and it’s the perfect time for him to take her to meet them all. They won't be focused on her at all, and thus she will have fewer questions to answer.
Penelope Garcia is a blessing on this earth. The second Y/N lays eyes on her, she knows that they are going to be friends. She’s a hugger, and they’re good hugs, and she was already making plans to hang out and keep Y/N company when Spencer and the team were out of town.
JJ looked beautiful for just giving birth, Emily was intimidatingly smart and beautiful and she didn’t know how to really make eye contact with her without developing a crush on Spencer’s co-worker. Derek was kind as always, and Aaron gives a firm handshake.
JJ asks Spencer to be Henry’s godfather and it’s all a little too much for Spencer to handle after everything from the day before. He’s been through so much that Y/N can see the panic roaring through his veins as he tries to keep his cool in front of his friends.
But when they’re back in their own bed; in the safe space, they’ve created for one another. She’s running her hands along his back as he snuggles into her chest. Normally she’d tease him for being this close to her boobs, but they were comfortable and he likes to hear her heartbeat.
“I thought for a while they were going to tell me I was molested,” he whispers. “I was more relieved to know my mom witnessed a murder… and I hate myself for thinking that.”
“I was,” she whispers into his hair. “More than once by different men.”
He sits up to look at her, she shrugs, “my friend's dad tried to teach me how to drive by sitting me in his lap so that I’d have to bounce on him over the rocky back road. And a scout leader drove me home and kept his hand way too close to my parts and then a teacher-“
“How are you okay?” he stares at her like she's got 3 heads or something as he shakes his head lightly in disbelief.
She laughs, “I’m not. But I am at the same time? I can’t really explain it... it sucks and I hate it but I’m safe with you so I’m fine... but I’m not okay?”
“Yeah,” he smiles. “I’m fine with you but not okay, too.”
They're quiet for a bit, tilting their heads as they stare at each other with soft little smiles. She loves him and he loves her and all she can think about is forever.
“Can I ask you something?” She’s really serious now, looking at him carefully as his eyes light up.
“Anything!”
“Do you think you’ll want kids one day? Even after everything with your dad?” She’s careful, not wanting to hurt him to push him or make him think he’s letting her down if he says no.
“I want kids, even if it’s just one. I want to be a dad and do what my dad couldn’t. I want to love them and help them grow and teach them how to ride a bike and how to do Pythagorean theory,” his words are full of passion, he’s speaking from his gut.
“I want 3 kids,” she smiles. “With you.”
His eyes go wide, “why?”
She smiles because of course, he convinced himself she wouldn't want his kids, he was a worrier.
“My dad was okay, he was pretty distant and cold until I got sick and then he became one of my best friends. Your dad sucked. Together all that love that we craved will go into our little person and they’ll be so happy and wonderful and loved with us."
Spencer nods in agreement, it's soft and sweet and she makes a last-minute decision. "I don’t think I want kids if I can’t have them with you.”
“What’s your 5-year plan look like?” he asks abruptly like he wants to start having kids tomorrow.
“I don’t have one. But I’ve always dreamed of just being a stay-at-home mom and making art on the side. Maybe even babysitting a few other kids during the days… I don’t know. It always felt like a pipe dream before...”
“Before me?” He asks with a smile, proud and believing it. He really knows she loves him and it’s changed him for the better.
She nods, “you wouldn’t mind if I didn’t ever have a real job?”
“I think we’d be okay as a single income family, I make enough to support the apartment bills as well as groceries, then your income can for things you and the kids want. I’m good paying for everything else.”
She smiles, “you just said the kids.”
He’s giddy with excitement as he nods, “I want forever with you.”
“Okay,” she whispers, leaning in to press her lips against his gently like he could break.
He was so special and perfect to her. Even with the scratches and dings in his paint, he was a collector's item, a one-of-a-kind, never-made again, kind of man who she was really happy she found.
taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor
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scribblingfangirl · 3 years
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GLOWING IN THE DARK #0 | The Punisher - Billy Russo
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not my gif!
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Author’s Note: What is this? A new Billy Russo series? Yes, yes it is and then from someone who has only written Jaskier from 'The Witcher' (if the few lousy fics even count) and one Daredevil drabble. I really enjoyed working my way through multiple Billy Russo fics here on tumblr. And while I do not agree with his character (he's an asshole and definitely not a 'cute' bad boy), I am in love with Ben Barnes (*cough* Prince Caspian, Logan Delos *cough*)… so that's a problem. This is why I wanted to throw my own take into the depths of tumblr. Now, I'm no US citizen so I have no clue how the military, goverment and all these institutions actually work, but thanks to my good friends Internet and Google I might have a chance to not totally… hmpf it. Anyway, there will probably be some MAJOR mistakes, so as this will be an Billy Russo AU anyway, just look at it like an entire AU in general, yeah? But then again: It's the marvel universe so anything's possible. Thank you in advance! However, if you wanna swing by my messages and correct me and/or help me? Yes please, let's chat and bring me up to speed on how everything works! :D Anyway enough rambling, let's start, shall we? I hope you enjoy this prologue! This is more of a warm-up to have some slight context, Billy will make his debut in the next part.
word count: ~ 1.4k
summary:  A conversation on the way to the airport can lead to interesting new insights. (beginning of a Season1!BillyRusso AU)
warnings:  language and there are some sentences that are waaaay to long, punctuation mistakes (in general just a weak English vocabulary) 
| next part | - | series masterlist |
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The guy sitting under the tree behind the picnic table you and your friends were sitting at had been playing the same song for the past 20 minutes. Worst thing? 10 minutes into it he even started to sing it out loud, or rather, tried to do so. 'What an Asshole,' you thought groaning, shook your head and started to massage your temples. "That's not how I imagined my first day back in the States to be."
Maria, your best friend, giggled as she threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into her side, patting your head mockingly. "What? Are you telling me the soldier boys over… well, wherever you're stationed don't have such angelic voices?"
"Don't know. Couldn't hear them over the purring of our birds. Though I guess they would have sounded the same. Like plucked chicken waiting for their death sentence."
"That's kinda what they are though…," you heard one of your friends mumble on the other side of the table. From the corner of your eye you saw how another one poked her elbow into her side.
Maria released you, seeing how the other ones had pained expressions on their faces as well and clapped her hands on the table. "Well. That won't work, will it?" She stood up, smiling and walked briskly to the man.
"Hey buddy. You know anything else? Because we're sick of hearing you butcher this one."
Joining your friends in laughing at Maria's comment you turned around and caught a glimpse of the man. Poor thing was turning beet red.
"Sorry ma'am. I'm trying to learn this new song."
"Struggling a bit, aren't we?"
"Yeah well, but I don't do requests. If you want one, it's going to cost you."
Three months. It didn't even take them three months after that first conversation to get pregnant and decide to spend the rest of their lives together. It was a beautiful little ceremony, rushed for sure, but perfect for both of them. It fitted right into their relationship. And what a relationship it was. You hated seeing the uncertainty in Maria's eyes now, but you all knew it would come to this. You liked to think that she was accustomed to this, having brought you to the airport multiple times. Yet, you knew this time would be different. She wasn't just bringing her best friend, she was also bringing her now-husband and soon to be father of her child.
"You know," you said as you heaved your duffel bag into the back of the car, "If any of you dares to make me this kid's godmother, or worse, aunt-"
"We'll have your eternal love and gratitude. We know Y/N, we know."
You jokingly glared at Maria before you opened the back door of the car and sat in the seat behind her. "Not what I was trying to get to, but I let you live in your little fantasy world. This way at least one of us can sleep peacefully at night." You regretted the words almost as soon as you said them. So you quickly added, "And you know what? I'll even add a promise of being the best godmother or aunt this kid could have if you call him Pete."
Maria started the car, her pregnant belly making it harder for her to manoeuvre, and shot you a quick look as she made sure that nobody was in the way while backing out of the driveway. "I am not going to call my baby after a bird."
"You're not going to call our child Sparrow or Robin? That's good to know, after all, it will be a Frank Jr.," Frank said, having only caught the latter part of your conversation as he had checked the door one last time before entering the car the moment it was on the road.
"Goddamn Frank… Old-fashioned are we? You do realize though that it ought to be Francis Jr. right?" You smirked as you leaned over and pinched his ear a little. "You're also going to make him sound like a banker or lawyer with that name. '
He grunted and swatted your hand away, turning to look out of the window. "Oh yeah, god forbid he has a safe job and can go home to his wife and kids every day."
Silence filled the car as you slowly slid back into your seat. There it was again. You leaned your head against the window and saw Maria searching for Frank's hand with her free one, holding on to him like a lifeline. After all, it was. Even the slightest touch counted now, as it would be well over a year until their hands would find each other again.
You sighed and watched the blurry landscape pass you by. You knew that you weren't ready for a relationship. You'd love to have one, envied Maria and Frank many times over the past three months but… You wouldn't be ready to leave it all behind, leave him behind. 'Get yourself a military man,' the people said. 'That would be worse,' you'd answer, 'The possibility of seeing him out there? It's slim.' It was already hard to stay in contact with the people you left behind. You couldn't imagine how it would be trying to catch up with another solider. And not knowing if he was still alive? If you'd be able to hug him as soon as you're back on friendly territory again? You pressed your lips together.
"What's the matter?" You met Maria's eyes in the little front mirror. "You seem lost in your thoughts."
You shook your head and sadly smiled at her. "Just thinking of how strong you both are. Sure there's no possibility of me convincing you to allow Francis Jr. to live as Pete instead?" You added the last part to raise the mood.
"What exactly is it with you and Pete? I don't really fancy to call my son after an amazing ex-lover of yours."
You smirked and turned to Frank. "As you know I'm a gunner on one of the UH-1Y Venoms the Marine acquired recently. Our callsign is Blackbird, but we all call him Pete." You stopped and furrowed your brows. "Not sure why actually. I guess the boys didn't like me having the honour of naming our bird and had to overpower me somehow."
"You choose the callsign Blackbird?"
"Yes sir." You did a little salute as well as you were able to in your seat belt. "Very proud of it. Inspired by me being a little bitch who loves shiny things, especially if those shiny things can cause explosions. The shiny things are the bullets," you added at Frank's confused face. "Because I shoot them at the targets to make them go boom?"
Frank grinned as he looked over to Maria. "You knew. That's why you've been pestering me into introducing her to Billy."
You raised your eyebrows and looked at Maria through the little mirror. "Wow hold on. Declaring me aunt of your child and trying to set me up with someone? Someone's gotta show you how to draw a line Maria!"
"Don't worry. I'll be sure to learn it together with my child. And as I recall it you made me the promise to make me sleep soundly at night, so don't start moaning at us. What you reckon Frank? You think you'll be able to meet up? Introduce her to Billy? Somewhere, somehow?"
"Na…," he muttered as he slid deeper into his seat, remembering again that you weren't going on a road trip but to the airport. "We're stationed in different parts of this goddamn mess. It'd be a big surprise if we ever met on the battlefield, right kid?."
"We're the same age Castle, but yeah. However, if we ever fly over your base I'll be sure to wave at you. And, who knows? If we do ever land near your base I'll let you introduce me to your buddy. If you managed to beat me in a friendly round of combat that is. Or else you'll call your son Pete."
"You guys are children," Maria muttered as she set the blinker to turn into the airport, but you and Frank grinned at each other and high-fived.
"Deal."
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The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones
Chapter 13 | Tearful Goodbyes 
Pairing: Geralt x Targaryen!OC
Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after the events of the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.
Word Count: 5200
Note:  Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future uploads! 
*Gasp* Could this be? Me posting another chapter after only two weeks?? Impossible! I promise this is the last chapter that is heavily filled with angst, at least for a while! I can't help it, Vis is a very sad bean who keeps all her feelings in a bottle, and then she'll die. I just-- I need the build-up man! The character development man! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think, I love reading all your comments and theories! <3
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The cool air of night is a stark contrast to the heat inside of Visenya, which grew hotter as the chaos during the banquet did. But now that peace is restored, standing under the night sky lit up by glittering stars, she feels that heat simmer down until it's a comforting warmth. The northern wind is biting, but she welcomes the feeling, the cold reminding her of the North - of home. The cold that would chill her to the bone, leaving her with chattering teeth and icy hands that always seemed miserable is something she longs for; a semblance of normalcy. She inhales and then exhales, watching with child-like wonder as her breath becomes visible in the cold temperatures. So enraptured by the weather, she nearly forgets she isn't alone, and that Geralt is a few steps ahead of her now, watching her with curious eyes. Yet it's Jaskier's voice that pulls her from her stupor.
"So this is it?"
Visenya turns around, gold eyes wide with her lips set in a thin line. Jaskier is standing at the entrance of the castle, the noblewoman previously with him nowhere to be seen. He's disheveled and so unlike the normally prim and proper Jaskier she's accustomed to, his floppy brown hair windblown and sticking up in random directions. His clothes are wrinkled in odd places, ripped here and there, but overall mostly intact. His eyes are wide, as they normally are, but they're glassier than she remembers them being, the stars betraying what seems to be held back tears.
"You don't have to leave, you know, just because the Countess de Stael has agreed to be my patron. I could still use my bodyguard," Jaskier says, smiling, but it's not carefree and easygoing, brimming with his usual mirth. Instead, it's tight and harsh, not quite reaching his eyes. His hands loosely rest in front of him, fingers nervously intertwining with each other.
Visenya smiles, mustering all her strength to appear every bit the soft and docile maiden from every fairytale, looking at him like she would've Bran and Rickon. She sighs, forming and reforming the words in her mind, trying to find the perfect thing to say. But each time she comes short, a harsh reminder she'll never be a good poet.
Instead, she opts to shrug her shoulders and move closer to the entrance, closing the distance between them. She's melancholic, feeling as if another chapter of her life is coming to an end. She and Jaskier traveled together for years, how could she not feel a hint of emotion when it seems like their travels are on hiatus - if not done entirely.
"Come on Jane, you in court, scaring away all the mean people who want to kill me, we'd make the best team!" Jaskier exclaims, trying - and failing - to have his usual enthusiasm behind the words. They fall flat, sounding more desperate and sad rather than upbeat and encouraging. Visenya sighs once more, the smile on her face requiring less concentration as Jaskier continues to ramble. Finally, she closes the distance between them. "I'll never leave you to your brooding when you want!"
"Whilst that does sound interesting, I'm afraid I wouldn't do well in court," Visenya says, reaching out and taking Jaskier's hand in her own.
"I disagree, My Lady," Jaskier says, pursing his lips and looking at the ground, pausing for a brief moment, allowing the wind to whistle between them. "But I understand."
"My place is out there, where I can stab things," Visenya says, raising her brows with a small smirk on her face.
"You could do that here you know? Not to sound like I'm trying to talk you out of your decision because I respect your choices and everything," Jaskier says, his enthusiasm gaining traction with each word. Visenya laughs, a small laugh that's nothing more than a whisper, but it's music to the ears of anyone who hears it.
"I could, but that would get me in trouble with the law," she responds, shaking her head, the smirk playing on her lips morphing back into a gentle smile.
"Right, I almost forgot about that," Jaskier mutters looking up towards the sky.
"Goodbye Jaskier. Though with my luck this isn't the end, I'll run into you sooner or later," Visenya says, a mischievous glint in her normally stoic gold eyes.
"Oh, I'm afraid you won't get rid of me so easily, my fair lady!" Jaskier exclaims, perking up slightly. "Goodbye, Jane. You and Geralt watch out for each other, alright! I won't have the two scariest people I know both dying, then who'll serve as my protection at high-class events!" Jaskier proclaims, some of his natural charisma returning, his blue eyes not nearly as glossy as moments prior.
"I'll do what I can." Visenya places her hand on Jaskier's shoulder, pulling his body towards her's, wrapping her other arm around his neck as she hugs him. Shocked, Jaskier is stiff for a moment, before melting like morning dew under the hot sun and wrapping his arms around her. He breathes in and then out, as Visenya does the same until their breathing is nearly perfectly synced up. She places her face in the crook of his neck, burning the moment in her mind, unwilling to ever forget this moment in case it's their last. She inhales his scent, committing it to memory; juniper and sage, sharp and warm and earthy all at once, with a hint of sweet wine and linseed oil.
"I'm sorry," she mutters, the words muffled against his neck, but Jaskier understands her none-the-less. "I'm sorry for earlier,"
Jaskier's hand moves from her back to the top of her head, soothingly rubbing it as Lady Catelyn used to when Visenya would run to her crying about one thing or another. It's comforting and familiar, nearly bringing Visenya to tears from the simple act.
"It's okay, you're complicated, I paid extra for my bodyguard to be dark and broody," Jaskier says, a slight sarcastic quirk in his tone at the end. "But promise me you won't isolate yourself any more than you already have. Talk to Geralt, he understands broody and dark."
"I'll keep it in mind," Visenya responds, slowly opening her eyes and unraveling from Jaskier. "Maybe I'll tell you all about how complicated I am next time we meet?" Visenya gives him one last smile, slowly stepping away, but not turning her gaze away from him.
"Oh, I'll hold you to that promise, missy!" Jaskier exclaims, wagging his finger at Visenya as if she is a child. Once again she laughs, louder this time, not as restrained as it normally is.
"I'm counting on it," Visenya replies, talking one last step, turning around to face Geralt, rushing towards him, eager to escape the emotions brimming inside her. Trying desperately to not think about how odd it is that she is walking away from Jaskier, the only constant in this crazy world since the day they met.
"Goodbye, you two! Now take care of each other, in every aspect, if you know what I mean!" Jaskier calls out, disappearing into the castle before either of them could retaliate.
She meets Geralt, who says nothing, he simply raises a brow at her, silently asking 'Are you sure?'
"My place isn't in court." Is all she says. Geralt grunts, nodding his head, a stoic expression on his face. "Let's go back to the inn, I need an ale and lots of sleep."
A smirk creeps onto Geralt's face, his eyes shining with amusement, illuminated by starlight. He quietly snorts, turning to face the gate leading out to the main portion of the city.
"I can agree with that." In nearly perfect unison they walk out of the castle grounds, Visenya easily keeping up with Geralt's long strides. They're quiet, the only sound is their feet pounding against the cobblestone road and the ambient noises of guards and nobles around them.
A particularly strong gust of wind blows through the courtyard causing a piece of Visenya's hair to blow in front of her eyes. She grabs a small chunk of hair, intently inspecting the grey-brown strands. With the silver light shining from the otherwise midnight sky, she can nearly see the silvery-golden hue hidden under cheap hair dye. Or maybe it's a trick of her eyes. She lets out a puff of hair, blowing the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears to secure it in place.
"So a child," Visenya says, no inflection in her words as she continues to stare straight ahead. Geralt's steps falter for a brief second before he quickly regains his footing. He sighs, heavily, somehow managing to put in all his frustration and annoyance in one simple noise.
"I don't want to talk about it Jane," he says. His tone is stern as if he's talking to an unruly child. It reminds her of when she, Jon, Robb, and Theon were the terrors of Winterfell, in the days before they grew up and the world became dark. She can't help the faint smile that appears on her face, her gold eyes lighting up like the sun, but not nearly as bright as the summer sun in the South. It's more like the North, where the heavy fog and thick clouds obscure most of the sunlight, muffling the harshest parts of the rays and bathing everything in dim light.
"I know, but not talking about isn't going to make this go away," she says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He's clenching his jaw, veins on his neck slightly popping out. His lips are set in a thin line with eyes like stone.
"There's nothing to run away from," he says. Visenya stops, turning to face Geralt, reaching her hand out and grabbing his shoulder, stopping him in his place and turning him to face her.
"Geralt," she says, her voice serious and stern. "This isn't a joke. This isn't making a bargain with someone in a seedy part of town and running away before they can collect their prize. This is serious."
"I didn't take you as one to think destiny is real." Geralt says, raising a single brow at Visenya.
"We all need something to cling to," she responds, not breaking from his gaze.
"And what do you believe?" Geralt asks.
"That...everything happens for a reason; that there's a purpose behind every tragedy and triumph that we experience - both great and insignificant," Visenya says, keeping her voice low enough that any nosy passers-by won't hear their exchange.
"This isn't some divine plan; this was just a princess using her magic to get her way, destiny has nothing to do with a girl who has no idea how to control her powers," Geralt says, standing firm on his stance. Strong and stubborn; he would've done well in Winterfell amongst the Northern lords.
"Oh cut the shit Geralt, do you honestly have to be so fucking pragmatic that you can't believe in something if you can't see it with your own eyes," Visenay says, keeping her voice low enough as to not attract any more attention towards them. Whilst the crowds are thinning with each moment that passes, even one person seeing their argument is too many.
"I thought you were more intelligent than this, clearly I was mistaken" Geralt responds, taking a step towards Visenya. His eyes glow bright yellow like the fire burning inside of her. Geralt's fire collides with Visenya's ice. He's egging it on, he wants a fight, she realizes. For her to get so angry she yells and screams at him. Why he is, she's not sure.
"Do you have to be such an asshole, Geralt of Rivia? You have no right to insult my intelligence by being so patronizing, I'm not a child, don't treat me as such," Visenya says, spitting the words like they are venom. She steps closer to him, close enough that she can feel his breath and hear his heartbeat.
"Well, it's either that, or you sustained a far worse injury in that fight than originally thought. How could you believe in this horseshit?" He won't stop, adding further fuel to the fire inside her; her pride rearing its ugly head and demanding she win the fight, no matter how petty and uncalled for it is.
Visenya narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw. Her hands form fists at the side of her body, her blood nearly starting to boil from her rage.
"How could I not, after everything that's happened," she says with a voice like ice, so cold that it burns. Her words are quiet, but they're sharp, stabbing into Geralt like sharpened icicles in a winter storm.
"What? What happened Jane? I'm supposed to believe in destiny just because you survived a rebellion?" Geralt asks, a mocking tone lacing his cruel and coarse words. He's not malicious in his intentions, it shines in his eyes, but the words are daggers to her heart none-the-less.
"Stop it," Visenya whispers, taking a step away from Geralt, but he just moves closer. "That's not fair and you know it."
"The gods don't care who lives or dies, why should they care about some child--" Geralt continues, but Visenya interrupts him, her quiet words silencing him.
"I died," she simply says. Geralt closes his mouth, his clenched jaw loosening. Visenya takes a sharp breath and then lets it out, watching as her breath dissipates into the cold air. Heart pounding with shaky hands, Visenya closes her eyes for a moment and then opens them before continuing.
"My family was betrayed and they killed us, butchered at a wedding like we were nothing but cattle. Next thing I know, I woke up outside of Blaviken with this-" Visenya says. Gold eyes dart around their surroundings, searching for any eavesdroppers. Luckily, the streets are nearly empty, the few people still scuttling around not paying them any mind. She holds out her hand, and focuses on...something, trying to recreate the feelings that would bubble under the surface before the fire made its presence known. Her eyes flutter shut, and within a second, a small flame flickers in the palm of her hand, the fire quickly dying out. But it's all she needs.
"Fire magic," Geralt says, breaking Visenya from her concentration. She closes her palm, hiding the arm behind her back as if to protect herself from harm. She looks up, meeting Geralt's wide gaze. "Blaviken burning... that was you,"
Visenya nods, thickly swallowing the lump in her throat, trying to push away the haunting memories of Blaviken burning.
"I lost control and just-- exploded, by the time I came to, everyone was already dead," Visenya says, shrugging her shoulders, her voice hardly above a whisper; soft, weak, and almost completely vulnerable. She purposely leaves out the part where she reveled in the destruction, feeling glee from their suffering. Geralt is silent - maddingly so, it leaves Visenya tense and uneasy. Every second passing feels like a lifetime as Geralt stands in silence and Visenya awaits his response.
But he says nothing, just simply nods his head.
"What now? Are you going to put me down like one of those monsters?" Visenya asks, and despite the self-deprecating words, her tone holds no humor to it.
"You're not a monster." Geralt says, his words like a knife cutting through the thoughts rushing through her mind. "What's done is done."
Visenya nods, taking another step away from Geralt and turning to face the road, eager now more than ever to return to the inn. The rushing wind cools her face and eases the tension in her body, not completely, but enough that she isn't afraid of exploding. Geralt's heavy footsteps pound behind her, his long legs swiftly catching up to Visenya. It's silent, but not the soothing one that leaves Visenya comfortable. Instead, it's tense and awkward, the words from their argument lingering in the air.
"I'm sorry," Geralt simply says, his tone not as firm as it normally is. Geralt is always sure of what he says - whether it's sarcasm or not, but this time he isn't. Witchers hunt monsters, not console maidens. The effort causes Visenya to smile, a small sad smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes.
"It's okay, we both have issues," she says.
"If you want to speak about it--" Geralt begins, the words sounding unsure as they leave his lips.
"I know where to find you," Visenya finishes his sentence, the smile on her face growing bigger. "But, if I did, I'd have to kill you," she responds. Geralt narrows his eyes for a moment, before a small smirk appears on his face, cracking the stone in his expression.
"Maybe you should tell Jaskier then, rid me of that bard," Geralt says, turning and continuing to walk towards the inn they're staying at for the night.
"Oh, he's not that bad. I might actually miss the guy," Visenya says, a small smile resting on her lips. "There's never a dull moment."
"That's what I'm hoping for, dull moments," Geralt says. Visenya looks at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.
"Well, I'm afraid you may not get that, not with me around at least." Visenya teases, cocking her head to the side as she raises her brows slightly. Geralt looks at her, scoffing quietly.
"I'm counting on it," he replies. Visenya laughs, the sound more similar to a scoff. They continue weaving through the citizens that remain on the streets. No one pays them much mind, too busy in their worlds, but the few that do take notice of Geralt say nothing. And Visenya is grateful, she's had enough excitement for one night.
o0o0o
The tavern on the level below them is particularly rowdy that night; horrible renditions of bawdy tavern jigs being sung by drunks, cackling men and women, and the thumping of feet banging on the floor and mugs on the tables. The wall shakes and the floor does as well, disturbing the small amount of peace Visenya has. She sits on the side of the bed, her bare feet hovering over the floor, only the very tips of her toes touching the cold wood. Except for the ambiance, the room is silent, but not unbearably so. It's comforting and entirely foreign to Visenya to be able to hear her thoughts.
Jaskier hated silence, needing to fill it with nonsensical rambles and filler thoughts to break the quiet. But Geralt revels in the silence, seeing it as a prized commodity he doesn't get blessed with often. The cool metal of her silver dagger cools the heat that's always under her skin. She balances it in her right hand while staring at the blank wall ahead of her. Jaskier always said she broods too much and is never much fun to be around when this way. Geralt is on the edge of the bed across from her, diligently cleaning his blade. Any dirt and residual blood from the feast have long since been cleaned off, Geralt continues to shine it. His ashen brows are furrowed and his lips set in a thin line. There's a small line that formed on his forehead, a dead giveaway that he's lost in thought.
Visenya sighs, placing the dagger back into its small sheath and sets that on the small table near her bed. The bed squeaks as she stands up, the floor creaking as she puts more weight onto it. Geralt pauses his sword cleaning for a split second but continues as if he never stopped.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
The floor creaks with each movement and the distance separating her and Geralt quickly dwindles until it's almost nonexistent, her knees nearly touching him. Wordlessly, she sits beside him, reaching a hand up and beginning the arduous process of unweaving the intricate braids Jaskier put in them. A partially broken fingernail snags in her hair, getting knotted and tangled.
"Fuck," she says quietly under her breath, bracing herself to rip the chunk of hair out. Mentally she counts down from three, pulling with all her force on one. Rubbing her fingers together, she looks at the snaggle she pulled from her hair.
"Here," Geralt says, sheathing his blade and setting it aside. His much larger and rough hand reaches up towards her head but hovers over his head. "Can I?"
"Sure, can't be any worse than me," Visenya says, turning around to give him access to the back of her head. Without another word, Geralt's hand tangled in her hand, but instead of the recklessness Visenya tackled her hair with, he's much gentler, managing to unweave the braids twice as fast as she would've.
"Can I ask you a question Geralt?" Visenya asks after a moment of silence. Instead of answering Geralt just grunts, focusing on a particularly difficult four-strand braid.
"Are there dragons? And are they real?" she asks, putting all her energy into keeping her inflection neutral. She remembers in the Main Hall when Princess Pavetta's scream knocked everyone to the ground and filled Visenya's head with visions of a great fire giving birth to a dragon. She remembers how the clearing smelt and the longing inside of her to run her fingers over the smooth golden scales of the baby dragon.
"Yes, they're real, though they're exceedingly rare." Geralt responds.
"Really? What kinds are there, or are they all the same?" she asks, trying to turn to face him, but his other hand cups her head, keeping her in place.
"There are five: green dragons, they're the most common; red dragons less so; and black dragons are the rarest," he answers. He finally managed to find the tie keeping the four-strand braid intact and began carefully unweaving it.
"What about gold?" Visenya asks, staring at the blank wall as she remembers that dream from the woods when she stood in the Throne Room, The Red Keep in shambles around her as a gold dragon flew above her.
"They're a myth," he says, combing his finger through the undone braid before moving onto the next.
"Oh," is all she says, unsure of what else to say. Disappointment fills her mind, and for the life of her she can't figure out why. They're only silly dreams after all, right? "You say they're rare, why is that?"
"Treasure Seekers, idiots eager to steal the dragon's hoard, all the better if they could slay it and bring back a trophy of their kill," Geralt says, carefully pulling apart a knot in her hair. He's much softer than Visenya would've thought.
"Why would anyone do that?" Visenya immediately says, her brows furrowing. A quiet ow leaves her mouth as Geralt finishes working on the snarl. He mutters a quiet sorry but moves onto the next knot.
"For sport. Slaying a beast of that caliber is seen as a high accomplishment to commoners and nobles alike," Geralt says. Visenya feels heat rush to her face, brows furrowing more, causing small lines to appear on her forehead.
"They're not beasts to me. No matter how terrifying they may be to everyone else, I envy them. To be able to go anywhere you wish and do anything you'd like. It's...nice, romantic in a childhood fairytale sort of what. I'd give anything to see one," Visenya says, her tone of voice similar to a wishful child dreaming of knights and kings, vying for a happily ever after with either.
"I never said I thought they were beasts. Though I can't say I share the same sentiment as you, I prefer to stay away from fire breathing creatures," Geralt says, glancing at Visenya from the corner of his eye.
"I guess it's just in my blood."
"Is that why you have a dragon on the hilt of your blade?" Geralt asks, throwing the last small leather strip from her hair across the room. Visenya's eyes watch it soar through the sky before smacking against the wall directly across from her.
"Something like that," she answers, absent-minded and lost in thought. "It was a gift from...an old friend," she continues, glassy gaze casting to the dusty floor. She clenches her jaw in a desperate attempt to keep it from trembling.
"Was it--?" Geralt asks, removing his hands from her hair, but Visenya stays in place. She fears if she looks at him she won't be able to control the tears building in her eyes, eager to be free.
"Yes, and his name was Robb. He wasn't my brother, not by blood, but the Starks were the closest thing I had to family. He had it commissioned for me when we went to war. It - and my cloak - are all I have left of them," Visenya says. Her voice breaks with every other syllable, the words barely heard over the jeering patrons from below. The fire in the far corner of the room cracks, the noise drawing Visenya's attention to the flames. They illuminate her eyes - even more than normal due to the unshed tears, bringing out the flecks of white and orange in them.
It's still fresh in her mind, a haunting vision that she can't escape no matter how much she'd like: the sea of dead bodies around her, only to find Robb's decapitated body when managed to free herself. His direwolf coat-of-arms the only thing left that could identify it as Robb Stark. It pulls apart the stitches she meticulously applied to each and every wound that she sustained in Westeros. Months upon months, maybe even years, of work, only for it to unravel within seconds. She wants to forget. To throw herself into something - anything - as long as it frees her from these memories that linger over her like a dark cloud.
She takes a deep breath, trying to erase her rapidly beating heart, slowly thickly to get rid of the small lump in her throat. Her eyes flutter closed, refusing to open until the building tears disappear. Eventually, they do.
"You're not from here, are you?" Geralt says. His sentence is a question, but she knows he already knows the answer. He always seems to know.
"No, I'm not," Visenya mutters, feeling drained as if she just ran a marathon on little to no sleep. She's tired, and she's tired of being tired all the time.
"But I don't want to speak about that," Visenya says, sitting up straighter and moving her gaze back to Geralt.
"What then?" Geralt asks, ashen brows furrowed and eyes gleaming with interest. Visenya leans up, her face mere centimeters away from Geralt's. But she doesn't draw any closer, instead, she stays perfectly still, feeling his breath fan across her face and listening to his steady heartbeat - the pace much slower than her own. Her eyes trace his face, focusing on a faint scar that rests on his right cheekbone. The healed injury nearly glows in the candlelit room. She places both of her hands on his shoulders, using him to steady herself. She feels light as air, getting drunk off of Geralt's scent, inhaling the smell of fresh herbs and leather oil as if it's a drug she's addicted to.
"Oh I'm sure you could figure it out," she replies, a smirk on her lips. A heartbeat later, Geralt surges forward, closing the dwindling distance between them. His lips press against hers, firmer than she remembers, but just as sweet - if not more so due to the sweeter Cintran ale. She leans into him, eager to be as close as physically possible, and even then it wouldn't be enough.
Visenya pulls back, deeply inhaling in an attempt to gain her lost breath. She stares into Geralt's eyes, seeing her reflection in them. They're memorizing and captivating, full of everything Geralt doesn't say with words. The longer she stares the steadier her breathing gets, but the heavy feeling from the feast doesn't lift, and the distraction of Geralt did nothing but provide simple fortification to an already lost cause.
"Oh my god," Visenya mutters, her somber tone a stark difference to the teasing one she used moments prior. "I died," she says, disbelief lacing each word like she can't believe them even as they fall from her own lips. "I was murdered at a wedding and I died," she repeats, the tears returning, only this time with more vigor and she's unable to contend with their will. They pour from her eyes like heavy rain, clouding her sight and judgment, until all she can think about is Walder Frey betraying them over and over again.
The memories she'd buried deep inside her resurfacing. Catelyn falling to the ground, crossbow bolts stuck in her body, and Robb's dead body - head severed and replaced with a direwolf head - being paraded around on a horse.
Geralt pulls her towards his chest, his expression softer than the usual stoic mask he wears, albeit confused at her confession. Of course, her timing could not have been worse.
It's the first time she ever admitted to what happened. That her death - along with Robb and Catelyn's were real.
This is all real.
Objectively, every injury she received; whenever she's thirsty or hungry; or every time she goes to sleep and wakes up should've been proof that she's alive and her surroundings are real. But she's never admitted it, not to anyone and certainly not herself. Westeros is a topic she specifically avoids, keeping it locked away to never be seen. Subconscious denial is safer when survival is a concern.
She sniffles once more and pulls back from Geralt. She rubs her hand across her eyes, drying the dampness. The tears eventually stopped, however, her eyes remained bloodshot and puffy. Geralt carefully watches her every move, removing his hands from around her. She stands from the bed to move back to her own, eager to leave this night behind her. But Geralt grabs onto her arm, keeping her from moving away.
She looks at him with glossy gold eyes but says nothing, and neither does he. Yet he's speaking more clearly to her than anyone ever has in her life. Silently, moves back onto the bed, Geralt moving with her. He pulls back the blankets, motioning for her to enter first. The bed is as uncomfortable and itchy as hers, yet when she finally stops moving and Geralt gets beside her, she's the most comfortable she's ever been.
They continue to say nothing for the rest of the night. Visenya closes her eyes, moving onto her side, facing Geralt who stays on his back. Each time she blinks her eyes grow heavier and heavier, each breath deeper until eventually, she closes her eyes and the world turns black.
o0o0o
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littlemessyjessi · 3 years
Text
And another thing! Where is the representation of my melanin queens on every day things?! I’m just really upset about alot of fanfiction right now.  Like, I don’t get it.  I’m using every fucking piece of information that I have gathered from my godmother, an indescribably beautiful melanin goddess, over the years and I’m using it in fucking fanfiction because it’s fucking important.  For example:
My godmother, Dana, is a STUNNING black woman.  She was there for me when my birth mother would straight up drop me on her doorstep and I would see her for months. 
Dana, the queen that she is, is a beacon of light and information. 
I had an interesting childhood.  
I’m a mixture of a lot ethnicities to be honest and I spent my childhood back and forth between two countries if you want to know the truth about it.   But when I was in the USA, I was supposed to spend time with her which lasted for all of about two weeks full of abuse.  Looking back, honestly being with Dana is probably what saved me. 
Anyway, personally I’m a red head but my curl pattern is somewhere between 4B and 4C.  Naturally, it has a tendency to be frizzy and is heavy on the dry side.  I have my mother’s hair. 
Dana knew this, as she grew up with my mother and actually has a very similiar hair texture. It’s just that her’s is dark. So she knew exactly how to handle me when my mother jumped ship. 
And my dad didn’t know how to do that.  He’s Serbian and white. Not to mention the fact that he worked all the time over the road trying to provide for his four children. He wasn’t around much but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be.  It’s just that someone had to provide for us and that was him.  Side note:  All of have different mothers and they’re all crazy.   I think he has a type.  He didn’t turn them crazy.  No, no. They were like that when he met them.  I just think he’s a glutton for punishment. 
Anyway, the hair. That was a foreign language to him.  I mean, he tried but he was hopeless until Dana legit showed him. 
This fucking angel introduce me to the bonnet when I was four. Four.  To this day, I refused to go to bed without a bonnet.  
She also introduced me to protective hair styles and the concept of a damn headwrap.  Which is fucking life changing mind you.  My cuban fiance, Valentina, bonded over this when we first started talking because she video calls me one morning to talk to me while we were getting ready for our respective days. 
Of course, I answer.  Still in my pjs, bonnet on my head and slathering myself in shea butter.  Again, thank you Dana for your life changing knowledge of shea butter and cocoa butter.  I attribute my good skin to you, love. I’m in my late twenties now and honestly I don’t really look any different as to what I did when I was eighteen.  Perhaps, it’s genes.  But I think it was Dana and her knowledge. 
Anyway, we’re sitting there talking and all of a sudden Val just has the biggest smile on her face and I’m like, what?
And she was just like, “I love that you have your bonnet on.” 
And I was like, “Uh, ok? Should I not?” 
And we got into a whole discussion about it and how it’s viewed.   
Listen, if I am deep conditioning my hair I will walk straight out this house with a bonnet on and not give a single fuck.  You think I’m playing but I am not.  And that’s my point.   I don’t know why things like this are looked at differently and I’m sick of it.   
What’s even more disgusting is that I would get less looks for it than a black woman.  Why?  Because regardless of the fact that I actually came out of an extremely deeply darkly skinned woman, I pass as white. 
That god damn statement enrages me to my core.  The fact that I, someone who passes as white, can do basic things like wear a bonnet or a headwrap and while I may recieve some strange looks here and there..... it’s really nothing. 
Whereas a woman of dark complexion has a totally different experience.  And that enrages me.   I used to lose my temper over it when I was about 10 or so and Dana would take me to the movies on Sundays.  That was always deep conditioning day and so we went in our bonnets.  And these mother fucking girls would snicker and point and act like fools.  I, all 4′11′’ of me, nearly got into a fight with them b/c I have a short fuse on a big bomb.  But Dana just pulled me back and told me not to worry about it.  But I was upset.  Dana is literally one of the most beautiful people I have ever met, inside and out.  And I couldn’t understand how someone could be so nasty.   We had a talk that day about skin and why it was different.   I mean, I knew Dana and I have different colors to us but I never thought much about it to be honest.  
She was very honest with me in her experiences and she told me that we were different and even though that shouldn’t make a difference at all, for some people it did. 
Cue tiny preteen Kenny going on a fifteen minute rant until she gave me pineapple and tajin and told me to chill out, lol. 
Also, if you’re not putting tajin on your pineapple, what are you doing?  You’re missing out and I highly reccommend you see to it immediately. 
She told me the best thing to do was to ignore them and to just live my life.  And I see her point but I also don’t.  Because if you always look the other way then nothing changes b/c it just keeps getting swept under the rug.   
Dana is a lot nicer than me.  And perhaps, she’s smarter b/c she’s older and she just knows more than me.  But I will not stand for this! 
I realize how ridiculous that may sound but I don’t care.  I will call someone out on it in a heartbeat. 
I just get heated about things I feel strongly about. 
So all this to say that I was listening to this video where a girl was talking about how upset she was about the lack of representation in fanfiction and I was just consumed with anger b/c she’s right! 
And I was just so pissed. Poor Val listened to me rant forever before she just called Dana and was like, ‘Please calm down your child.” 
Because yes, as far as I’m concerned, Dana is my mother.  Not my birth mother. 
And, lol, Dana told her, “Just give that little hot cheeto some pineapple and tajin. Or make her some kool aid.  She’s just gotta rant for a minute and get it out of her system.” 
And Val said, “I tried to give her kool aid.  She spazzed out and drank half a pitcher.  Now she’s on a sugar high and she’s worse.” 
I’m assuming Dana told her to just hand over the phone and she promptly told me to calm down before she came over to deliver an ass whoopin.  
And then she asked me what was wrong and so I told her. 
And so she said, “Just write the fanfiction how you want it.   That’s what you’ve always done. So if you want to see mentions of bonnets in stories, start putting them in.   Make it a point to create scenes that specifically give you an opportunity to showcase some of that stuff.  Talk about the struggles of finding a foundation that actually matches your skin tone.  Talk about wash days and co washes.  And for the love of the all mighty, please mention to someone to put some damn lotion on their elbows and knees.  I’m tired of seeing these ashy ass people.” 
And we talked for quite some time about it and she made me feel better.  Like she always does.  I didn’t come out of her but Dana has always been my mother.  And always been there for me.  Always given me the best advice.   Always knew just what to say when my emotions wreck me. 
So I know a lot of you like my reader content and I’ll continue to do that. I promise.  I mostly just do plus size reader. But maybe we’ll include some specific POC plus size reader.  I mean, that’s not new for me.  I’ve done that before but you get my point.  The only way to get passed some of these irritations and unfairness is to normalize it to the point of common knowledge. 
And you might be seeing more and more POC OC’s from me.  This isn’t new either as I’ve got plenty of them.  But you might see an influx lol.  Because I’m upset about it and b/c it’s deserved.  You know what I mean?  
Also, for the love of god, please please please if you are writing reader insert when you are talking about someone blushing... jesus christ, Dana could be embarassed and you’d never know b/c she is literally as dark as a dark chocolate bar.   Blush doesn’t show on her skin tone and I can imagine it doesn’t show on a lot of deeper skin tones.  It doesn’t on Valentina and she’s cuban caramel candy.  
There are other ways.  Like heat creeping up the neck or whatever.  You know what I mean.  
Also, the ‘he ran his fingers through my hair’ bit?  Ugh.  First of all, with my hair.... I’d like to see them try.  Second, don’t. touch. my. hair.  
Just saying.  There are other ways.
Anyway, thanks for listening. 
And Dana, if you’re reading, cause I know you come read my stories sometimes- thank you for listening and giving me good advice.  As you always have.  I love you and I’m just really thankful you’ve always been there for me and taught me so much.  I love you, Mama D.
Love, 
Kenny
Also, ya’ll pray for me.  I have a whole pitcher of kool aid, that I made so it has way too much sugar in it.  And if I can’t calm myself down, Valentina may murder me.  And ya girl is trying to get some tonight, lol. 
P.S. If she does away with me and you never find my body, someone just tell Idris Elba, Queen Latifah, Sebastian Stan and Aaron Taylor Johnson that I love them and that I died well.  
Probably not though.  
Valentina is mean.  She’d make me die a slow and horrible death. 
Like depravation of cuddles and chocolate. 
The horror. 
Shit, I like her feisty though. 
Anyway, I’m rambling. 
I love y’all and that’s really all I had to say about the issue lol. 
16 notes · View notes
perriwinklesblog · 3 years
Note
I love thinking about the meta behind the story, because as a writer that my whole thing 😂 However at this point it's also given me questions, esp. about Dream and his character. c!Dream went from morally gray to a control-obsessed villain, and it feels like there's no turning back. What I want to know is, is Dream actually going somewhere with this? Does he actually have plans for his character? To me, a satisfactory end would be something deeper than just death. But idk how. Any thoughts?
This is about characters and their role play decisions. 
This is a very long answer. I am so sorry. It’s also very rambly because I’m finding it very hard to make it coherent. 
I’ve rewritten this answer at least ten times. I’m really stumped. 
Dream is an interesting character. I like Dream, the content creator, and I like to hate character Dream. He is, as HBomb has pointed out, very much like Moriarty from Sherlock Holmes. I used to get annoyed at how good Moriarty was at thwarting and manipulating everyone but loved the character, loved that there was something to root against. I feel it is the same with Dream. 
To try and answer your questions though, I’d say you’re right in the ‘no turning back’ because he’s kinda blocked himself into a corner. Before the exile arc with Tommy, there was some room for redemption but it’s hard to redeem yourself after such a harrowing storyline. 
I think he has plans for character, it is definitely going somewhere. I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a road and in front of me is just thick fog. The road is leading somewhere, I just can’t see it. 
Dream is so good at keeping everything close to his chest for his character. He doesn’t stream the character and is so careful with words when speaking to others. It makes him this incredible villain because you can’t pick out his movements, you cannot pick out his thoughts, he’s quiet, he chooses to speak only when necessary. So it’s so hard to figure out what his plans are. 
One thing I’ve noticed though is things are getting difficult, his plans aren’t going the way he has perhaps wanted them to go. He told Punz he essentially wanted to unite the server against him but, as many villains eventually find out, you cannot control people. Niki, Fundy, Jack and Eret have kinda screwed that idea. 
So where does he go from here? 
Honestly, this is where I’m very stumped. Especially with what other characters are doing right now. Personally, one way it could go is he saves face with those who didn’t follow Tommy. He would need to use the subtle manipulation that he did with Tubbo, to bring others to his side. Instead of them just being too scared to fight against him or too apathetic against everything. Instead of uniting them against him, he unites them against Tommy and Tubbo. That, however, feels very dark as a storyline but he’d have what his character currently wants, the server united, together as a family against something. Ultimately I think they’d want a resolution that doesn’t leave a pit in their audiences stomachs. 
The idea of Wilbur returning kinda throws off Dream’s character too, like how are they going to react to one another. What will Wilbur be if he returns? Will this sway the other characters, will Dream use this to his advantage? 
There are just so many unknowns with Dream, it is so hard to decipher where he’s going. 
Another way it could be looked at is through Tommy. 
Perhaps it isn’t what will Dream do next but what will Tommy do? Without Tommy, Dream theoretically wouldn’t be fucking about, right? At least not in the same way. He’s reactive with Tommy, he’s playing with Tommy. 
If we circle back to the Moriarty idea...
They are being Sherlock and Moriarty. (I didn’t think of them this way until HBomb had said that Dream reminded him of Moriarty). Tommy and Dream are definitely pulling ideas and parallels from them. 
They’re playing some weird ass mind game together just with the addition of TNT. 
They’re always batting off one another. 
He finds it fun to play with Tommy. 
Tommy is making it obvious that it’s him and Tubbo against Dream just like it being Watson and Sherlock against Moriarty.  
Personally, I think what would be fun is to have Sam on your side, trick Dream into setting his spawn in the prison, take one of his lives and have him stuck in the prison without any of his stuff. 
But is that satisfactory? Is that a satisfying end for Dream? 
No. It’s not. 
Even if it was just Tommy killing Dream, it wouldn’t be that satisfactory.
I think the only way in which the audience would be satisfied is if Dream went through the pain he has dealt out to others. But if he doesn’t stream his character, then we’ll never see that. We’ll never feel it the same way we did with Tommy. We felt the pain of Tommy more because we saw it from Tommy’s view. We felt Ranboo’s breakdown so much because we saw it from his view. Its in the first person, you’re watching it from the characters eyes, it is immersive. 
A satisfying end for Dream would need to feel the same. We’d need to see it from his eyes. 
See from his characters perspective, looking at the black walls of the prison, empty and alone with everything taken from him.
I think then we’d have something satisfying and also have something to work with to continue the stories. 
I’m am incredibly sorry that this has ended up so long and I doubt I even answered any of your questions but these are my current thoughts on Dream. 
In general, I am just stumped. 
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lou-is-creative · 3 years
Text
Unpredictable (pt11)
Tumblr media
ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ: 6 Underground
ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: Four/Billy // Eight/???
ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ: Four/Billy x male!Oc
ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10: Play by the rules
ꜱᴏɴɢ:   Bishop briggs - white flag
𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥!
AN: Pic isn’t mine
Crinkled bedsheets, head buried in his pillow. Bare skin against soft fabric and the faint scent of him. It was peace and it was safety, and it was comfort.
Eight twisted slightly. He titled his head to the side, eyes still closed. He was awake for a while now. But he refused to open his eyes. His abdomen rested on the mattress while his arms were crossed under the pillow he was holding. Only his lower body was covered by the white blanket, but he was too lazy to pull it up.
The room next door seemed just as peaceful as his. Seemed, because within one of the two persons laying on the bed, there was no peace at all. Fours eyes were opened. He was staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were rambling through his head.
There he was, laying right next to a beautiful woman who rested her head on his chest, peacefully sleeping, and still, he couldn't stop thinking about the boy next door. The boy whom he went outside with in the night, the boy who made him laugh all the time. The boy who became his best friend, although they didn't know each other for long yet.
Thinking about it, about him, Four got awfully aware of the fact that he actually didn't know his friend at all. And he didn't know him. They didn't know each other’s names and they didn't know the shit they've been through. Why was Eight this good with knives? Why did One call him a good driver? Why did he choose this car? Why did he live with his grandparents? And why was he so encouraged to end this mission so fast?  Was it something personal?
"Billy?"
Amelia's voice was soft but it struck him out of nowhere. He blinked and turned his head to her so he could face her.
"Since when are you wearing that?"
She asked confused and Billy looked down on himself, realizing that he hadn't undressed as he came back inside. He was still wearing Eights Hoodie which was a little tight for his taste and height. And he was still in his boxershorts.
"I went to the bathroom in the night and fell asleep like this again."
He lied as he looked down on himself. Amelia stroked over the fabric, thinking a little.
"I've never seen this one on you. It looks quite new as well."
She played with the rim of the pullover, revealing a little bit of Billy’s stomach.
"It's uhm, I just grabbed it, I guess. Maybe it's Eights and it fell out of his bag. I should return it."
The girl looked at him, a brow raised.
"Why would it be in your wardrobe then?"
"I... threw all the clothes I had into the wardrobe again so my room would be clean. This must have been a mistake. Must have grabbed it along with other stuff and just threw it inside the wardrobe."
He mumbled and sat up, rubbing his eyes a little and yawning.
Amelia scanned him and sat up too, holding the blanket up to cover her body.
"Where are my clothes?"
She asked and Billy blinked shortly before he realized that she wanted him to search for them. And so he did, collecting all the items he could find.
While Amelia got dressed, the blonde man grabbed a shirt, fresh boxers and pants to do the same.
It was quiet between them. At least until Five stood up.
"So... What are we?"
She asked unsurely while she fixed her hair. Four turned around, one brow raised.
"Human?"
He asked back and Five scoffed while shaking her head.
"No, I mean, what's between us, what... are... we?
"Ah that's what you mean."
Four said, turning back to face his wardrobe. His heart sank right into his pants as he bit his lip. What could possibly be the correct answer? The one where both of them were happy?
"We are friends, right?"
He paused for a second.
"I don't want this to change anything between us."
Unsurely, he turned around to face her again. Just to realize, that whatever the right answer would have been, it wasn't his. Amelia looked a little hurt. She definitely wasn't happy. But before Billy had to come up with something to fix it, someone knocked on the door.
"Hey Four, you wanna go get groceries with me?"
It was Eight. Fours eyes lit up. Never had someone opened a door faster than the blonde in that particular moment.
"Groceries?"
He asked and grinned at Eight. He looked at him for a while, taking everything in, every detail about the small boy with the slim but yet muscular figure. He was wearing a pullover today. A dark blue pullover with a small rose printed on the left side of his chest.
"Yeah, I just wanted to grab some food to realize that there was no food to grab. I asked One about it and he told me to get some, so that's kinda what I'm doing now."
Eights left hand nervously fumbled on the skin on his neck.
"And I was curious whether you'd accompany me?"
His soft voice was different today. He sounded a little more... how do I describe it? Tender? But Four didn't mind the sudden change of sound. He just nodded.
"Of course, I'm totally in!"
It still is a mystery to everyone, why Four never really noticed how relieved Eight looked. A cheeky smile spread over his lips, not paying enough attention to notice how Amelia was watching every second of their interaction. To be fair, Four had already forgotten about her.
"Great, meet me at the car, I'll be installing the new licence plate."
The moment ended as fast as it had begun and Four was pulled back into reality by the hand of a woman on his shoulder.
"Seems like your definition of friendship isn't a very common one, isn't it?"
Amelia’s eyes focused on his, pinning him down in the moment, making him weak. He hadn't experienced a glare like this ever since he joked about Eights height as he first met him. It was quite funny how he still remembered his stare more clearly than anything else. How his amber eyes had him pinned against the wall, losing his breath for as long as their eyes locked. All of the sudden, Four had this warm feeling inside of his chest, his hands were tingling.
Must be her, he thought to himself before grinning and pulling her close.
"I said I didn't want us to change. But Friends and... close Friends is something different, isn't it?"
Amelia held her breath for a second.
"I'll be back."
Four winked at her and walked out happily, leaving his 'close friend' alone in his room.
Eight was walking around in the kitchen with Two. Together they both seemed to figure out what to buy.
"Oh, what about alcohol? I think we could use some?"
"Eight, we do have enough alcohol here. Focus on what we have written down and don't buy any more or less than that."
"But it already looks like we have to buy enough stuff to survive an apocalypse? Why not get a little alcohol as well?"
Eight asked, leaning on the kitchen counter.
"I agree."
Four contributed as he was walking into the room, smirking a little. Eight turned around slightly, throwing his friend a cocky smirk back.
"Buy what we need, not more, not less. Understood?"
Two, who held the money they required in her hands, looked at the two younger men with the glare she was well known for. Eight sighed and stretched a little before he gave in.
"Understood."
As soon as Two handed the money to him, she already saw this going downhill. She had had her doubts about the two of them going without supervision and the smile on Fours face just proved her right.
"Play by the rules. We have a lot to lose."
She warned them before they walked out of the door. The half-hearted 'Yeah' from both of them worried her, but not to the point where she would have stopped them.
Three, who had been watching her handle the two young ghosts, wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek softly.
"You'd make a decent mother."
He said and Two scoffed, not knowing whether she'd like to kill him or to kiss him. But she often struggled with this particular question if she was being honest.
Eight and Four were already sitting in the car.
"It's even nice from the inside!"
Four exclaimed excitedly while brushing his fingers over the leather seat. Eight smirked proudly.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool, isn't it? It costed me a lot of money but it was so worth it."
The younger put the keys down and buckled his seatbelt before he started the car and made a sharp U-turn to rush off into the city. Four laughed, adrenaline rushing through his veins as Eight sped up more and more. The music blasting over the speakers was only increasing their feeling of absolute power. They felt unstoppable, mighty and free. They felt like two teens who finally managed to get away from their toxic households.
As soon as a street was remotely visible, Eight had to reduce the speed drastically. They didn't want to get caught. Four turned down the volume of the music, grinning at Eight and Eight grinned back. They might be two adult men, but they were as lost in the moment as two teenage boys who finally found their freedom.
"That was so fucking cool!"
Four exclaimed as he looked at his new best friend.
"That was nothing!"
Eight started laughing a little before he turned his head to face the street. His navigation system was on mute, he only looked at it from time to time to take the right road.
"What do you mean, nothing?"
Four asked interested and leaned back while looking at Eight.
"Can you go faster?"
Eight nodded and smiled. He seemed to be remembering something.
"I don't know if I am allowed to tell you, so we are going to exchange some information. I will know something about you and you about me, deal?"
Fours smile turned into a big grin much faster than he could comprehend the complete meaning of the sentence.
"Okay, you go first!"
The words spilled from Eights lips quickly. Probably because he was still unsure whether this was a good idea to begin with. Four let out a soft hum while thinking about the information he was about to give to his friend. The low voice of his combined with the vibrations caused by the hum itself had Eights body shiver of a second. He enjoyed the feeling a lot. Maybe even a little too much for his own taste. Shallowly, he stroked over his arm to calm his nervous skin.
"As I was about sixteen, I had started with parkour running and I had been skateboarding for more than ten years by then."
Eight nodded shortly before he started to grin slightly.
"I have never seen you skateboarding but judging from the number of years you have been doing it, I assume that you are really good..."
"How old do you think I am?"
"About twenty-two? How old do you think I am?"
"I honestly don't know. I would say about nineteen or twenty, not older."
Silence spread, neither of them knew whether they should reveal their age or not.
"I'm nineteen, but I'll be twenty soon."
Eight started as he took a deep breath. It felt right to open up a little. To allow the bond that was between them to grow. For most of his life, Eight had been lying about almost everything to almost everyone. He had never been the kind of person someone would like to be friends with. Simply because he didn't want to be that person. He had always been an asshole to everyone he met, ever since he was little. Afraid of losing people who treated him well.
Four looked at his friend for a while, not really knowing why he felt so special to be the one receiving this information. Maybe it was because the boy didn't seem to be a person who was bluntly nice and trusting to everyone he had ever met. Maybe it came from Fours inner desire to get to know the man- or boy, as it was now confirmed- better than anyone else.
"I'm twenty-three by now."
As the blonde eyed his friend and driver, he could swear that he saw those amber eyes light up a little. And it felt right. It felt right to tell him.
"You owe me a childhood story."
He then exclaimed and chuckled as he turned away, looking out the window.
"Ah right, nearly forgot about that. Uhm I have been driving since I was little. My grandpa taught me as I was ten and signed me up for child races. I quickly developed good driving skills and found joy in doing what I was doing. Especially since I could earn some money at a young age. Oh, look at that. A supermarket!"
It ended as quickly as it began and Four knew he had no chance to ask for more information. It was more than he expected to get anyways, although he wished it would have been more than that. But Eight was pulling the car over to park and the blonde unbuckled his seatbelt before getting out as soon as the car had stopped. The raven haired quickly followed and got the money and the list from the backseat. Doing the groceries for seven adult people was weird to say the least. Both of the boys grabbed a shopping cart and walked into the store.
"Are we being responsible or not?"
Four asked curiously as Eight pulled his hood over his head.  The other just shrugged, a slight smirk forming on his lips.
"Do you want to be responsible?"
He asked before he started putting stuff in the cart that they would need. Four just laughed a little, pushing his hand in his pocket.
"I never liked being responsible."
"Good. I see we think alike."
Although the two of them had agreed on not being responsible, they managed to buy everything they needed. And stuff they didn't necessarily need. Like Energy drinks, Alcohol and cigarettes. And pudding of course.  The cashier was looking at them as if they were crazy. She jokingly even asked what they were buying this much food for.
"See, our parents think that the apocalypse is close. We are just trying to survive."
Eight answered and Four had to hold back a laugh while putting all of the stuff back in the two shopping carts. The cashier, who now looked even more disturbed than before, just silently continued doing her job. It's needless to say that she was visibly relieved as the two guys left her store.
As soon as they were outside, Four and Eight started laughing loudly.
"That was brilliant!"
Four exclaimed while wiping a tear of laughter out of his face. Eight shook his head as he unlocked his car.
"Have you seen the look on her face?"
He asked and they broke out in laughter again while putting all of the stuff they had in the back of the car.
"Dude, she legitimately looked like we were about to sacrifice her to Satan."
"Well maybe that would have stopped the apocalypse?"
Eight placed the last bag of food in the car and made sure that nothing would break. He didn't want to risk dirtying his car.
Four was returning the shopping carts to their place before taking his next to the raven haired in the car. He closed the door and looked at him.
"What are we going to do now?"
He asked, and his voice was a mixture of disappointment and sadness. He didn't want this little journey to end just there. Eight on the other hand didn't look remotely sad. More like he was up to something.
"Trust me."
He said as he started the car and drove off. A million questions popped up in Fours head but before he decided which to ask, Eight had already stopped the car again.
"You wait here."
The blonde couldn’t even start to complain because the raven haired had already left. They were standing in front of a huge electronic store and it took about half an hour until he saw his friend again. Eight was carrying a huge bag and he was smiling like a complete idiot.
And while Four desperately tried to figure out what the other was carrying, the bag was already on the backseat and Eight on the driver’s seat again.
"What did you buy?"
"A PlayStation."
Fours eyes grew bigger and bigger.
"You must be joking!"
But the other just grinned while looking at him. Without wasting time on thinking his actions through, the blonde pulled him into a hug while mumbling an endless row of thank you's. Eight hesitated shortly, but gave in and wrapped his arms around the taller and laid his head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of comfort.
The moment ended quickly and as Four let go, he was still smiling. This time it were his eyes that were all lit up.
"Let's get home fast from now on so we can get started, hm?"
Eight grinned and his friend couldn't have agreed more.
It was somewhat evening as they arrived at home. One was already waiting for them in front of the headquarter. His arms were crossed, and his facial expression told them about everything.
"Hurry inside. bring the groceries with you."
Four and Eight exchanged looks but obeyed. One probably finished the planning for their next mission and wanted to make sure that everyone would be ready to listen. Including the two boys who'd rather be playing PlayStation than do just that.
Standing all together, Eight couldn’t help but notice the nasty look of Five, who was -according to the hate in her eyes- trying to kill him with her stare.
“Hey Four,”
Eight whispered, nudging his friend’s shoulder softly.
“Hm?”
Four hummed back and gave the other a questioning look.
“I think Five wants me dead.”
The moment the blonde turned around to face Five, he could only agree. Never had he seen the tender woman throw anyone a look like that. It was almost like he could feel the anger pierce his heart. Eight must feel horrible.
“Why does she look at you like that?”
“Four, Eight, you’ve had your play time for today. Shut up and pay attention!”
One’s voice was firm, almost angry which made both of them stop talking and pay attention to the important things. The pinboard, for example.
“Our next mission…”
The leader tapped on a name on the board.
“is James Thomson.”
15 notes · View notes
blobbyfics · 3 years
Text
Home - Part III
A whumpy home centric SugaKita fic
Notes: Apologies on the delay! I may or may not have had a major life change (it’s a good one though don’t worry)
Tw: none
Masterlist   Part II  Part IV
Suga and Kita were still for a moment.  As if freezing might let everything come back on.   As if their sounds and movements controlled the raging storm outside.  
"Fuck.  today just got either way more interesting or way more dull," Suga muttered, peering out the window.  
"If the wind is bad enough to knock out the power, standing so close to the window is not a good idea." Kita stood up and gently took Suga's arm and guided him away.  
"We don't know it was the wind," Suga pointed out.  "But I guess it doesn't matter." 
He scanned the room and started unplugging anything particularly important.  
"Don't forget to turn them off first," Kita said, moving into the next room and following suit.  
"I didn't forget!" 
Despite being in near pitch black, there was still that play to Suga's tone.  He probably had the start of a smile forming too.  
Kita didn't need to be there to know what Suga's expression was like.  The fluctuations of play and fire and tenacity and all kinds of little things in how he spoke had become enough.  
But that also meant he knew what he was missing when Suga spoke when he was busy and had his back turned.  
Or when there was no light for him to see him.  
Kita finished making his rounds and found Suga illuminated by his phone to his cheek.  
"I want to let Daichi know what's up," he clarified as Kita approached.  
He wants to know Daichi is safe.  
The dial tone repeated itself over and over, just loud enough that Kita could hear it, before going straight to voicemail.  
Suga let out a little breath.  "That's the second time…" 
"If he's driving, he's not going to pick up," Kita pointed out.  "We'll just keep an eye out for him." 
"I guess.  He's only what, fifteen minutes out at this point?" 
"Most likely." Kita gently laced his fingers with Suga's free hand.  "With the weather it might be a little longer, but he will be here soon." 
"I know." Suga squeezed his hand.  "But I'm impatient.  ...And I don't like the idea of him out in this and getting here to the surprise of no power.  Probably for his whole stay." 
"I don't either." 
Kita really didn't.  He wasn't as close to Daichi as Suga was (yet), but if he were more impulsive he probably would have been trying to contact him as well.  And ending a long day of travel with no comfortable resting point at the end? That's something Kita never wanted to be a part of in any way.  
"In the meantime, let's make sure everything we can get ready to make this better is ready." 
Suga gave a little smile.  "’Let us’ meaning you affirming what you can control.  But yes.  Starting with the meat buns we started cooking right before the power cut." 
---
The meat buns ended up with a little recipe improv courtesy of Suga, but Kita trusted him enough with cooking to already believe they would still be delicious.  
But fifteen minutes became twenty.  Twenty became thirty.  Thirty became an hour, one hour became an hour and a half.  
And still no Daichi.  
Around forty minutes Suga had tried calling again.  Kita didn't say anything, but he agreed with his boyfriend's decision.  And the tension in their bodies when it went straight to voicemail again matched.  
At an hour, Kita started making slow, little rounds across the little band of home where he could see anyone approaching.  The rain and wind had barely let up, if at all.  
The darkness in the cooling house gained an edge, felt hollow and foreign.  
And at ninety minutes, with no word, no success at contact, no power, and no relaxing of the storm, the restlessness and tension of waiting was no longer was an option for Suga.  
"Fuck it." He marched up to the window and peered out intently.  "I'm going to go find him." 
"It's not safe to go out alone in this," Kita said.  
Key word alone.  
"Yeah and Daichi is alone out there." 
"Which is why you want to also go out alone." Kita deadpanned.  
He left his pacing around and made his way to pull out a blanket.  
"Unless you want to come with me, yes." Suga turned from the window and headed towards the door, nearly running into Kita as he went.  
It had been far too long for Daichi to still be out on a winding rural road with little to no traffic so the thoughts and probability that something bad had happened was just growing.  
"I want everyone safe." 
It was a bad idea, but he couldn't think of a better one and knew nearly nothing would stop Suga at this point.  
“I am coming with you.” 
Now.  What else did they need...  He should probably grab flashlights, a first aid kit better than the one in their car,...
"We don't have any more hot water, do we?" He asked, gaze making its way to Suga's face.  
"No.  And if we did it would probably only be lukewarm by now." Suga set his jaw.  "What do you think we need?" 
Kita started listing off what he could think of.  Anything he could think of.  
"Okay we don't have the knowledge, space, or time for all of that," Suga cut him off.  A rare occurrence, but Kita rambling and thinking almost after he spoke was also just as rare.  "Let's just grab the basics, stick them in a bag, and go." 
Suga turned and was on his way to get said stuff.  
Okay.  This could be okay.  Kita stuffed the blanket into a bag and grabbed his jacket.  
And the car keys.  
He was the (significantly) better driver anyway, but he also didn't want to find out how tense Suga would get driving in the dark, in the rain, in a storm, not knowing if one of his oldest friends was okay.  
Kita was not about to let Suga drive in this.  
Best case scenario, Daichi was just driving slow and they'd find him easily, but Kita's optimism was waning and only worst case scenarios filled his head.  It had to be much worse for Suga.  
Suga hustled back into view, arms half full.  
"You have a bag?" He asked, eyes darting around.  
"Right here." Kita held the bag with the blanket open and Suga dropped everything in, just letting everything make itself at home where it fell.  "I also have the keys." 
"You sure you want to drive?" Suga slipped on his jacket and shoes.  "It'll be terrible." 
"I'm very sure." 
Suga let out a long breath.  "Okay.  Ready?" 
"Yes.  I'll have my eyes on the road so you keep watch of the shoulder." 
Kita opened the door and immediately rain and wind blasted against him.  
They were really going out in this.  
The two of them made a dash to the car.  The wind nipped at any bare skin and within seconds they were drenched.  
"Remind me which way Daichi comes in from?" Kita asked as Suga got in the passenger side, plopping their bag in the back.  
"Turn right." 
Suga may have answered the question, but Kita could tell he was already tuning the world out to focus on the shadows outside his window. 
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aghost-writer · 4 years
Text
Love Me...
Chapter 2
Love Made Me Do It 
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Hide and (Y/N) walked side by side. They had taken the scenic route to (Y/N)’s about. It was about forty minutes longer from the cafe to her apartment this way.
“You think Kaneki will ask her out”, (Y/N) asked.
Hide nodded.
“He can do it. “, Hide said.
(Y/N) nodded. She inched closer to Hide as they walked to her apartment. She was uncharacteristically quiet.
“Something the matter (Y/N)? Oh I know. You are jealous that Kaneki is asking someone out”, Hide teased.
Hide’s heart tighten. He couldn’t handle it if she said yes.
(Y/N) looked around. The streets were almost clear minus a few businessmen. She was nervous, and it was written clearly on her face. She grabbed Hide’s hand when a cat shoot out in front of them.
“Ah!”
(Y/N) buried her head in Hide’s side.
Hide blushed. He was as red as a tomato. He was happy that she was so close to him. A question surged forward in his mind. Was everything alright?
“It was just a cat. (Y/N) is everything alright?”, Hide asked concerned.
(Y/N) shook her head. She didn’t want to be a bother to Hide at all. She slowly let go of him much to his disappointment.
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”, (Y/N) semi-lied.
She was tired, but there was a reason behind it.
Hide frowned.
The two stopped in front of her door to her apartment.
“What’s wrong, (Y/N)? You can tell me anything”, he asked.
Hide smiled reassuringly. He would take her worries away. He knew he could. They were made for one another.
(Y/N) smiled weakly. She believed someone was watching her, but she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to involve Hide in something that could get him hurt or even kill him.
“It’s nothing Hide. I promise”, (Y/N) spoke softly.
Hide frowned. In order not to upset her, he didn’t say anything else about it even though he desperately wanted to know what was wrong.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything. I don’t want you going about by yourself with all the ghoul attacks”, he said sternly.
He could not handle it if something were to happen to (Y/N). Hide would never forgive himself if (Y/N) got hurt, and he wasn't there to save her.  He would die.
(Y/N) smiled and unlocked her door.
“Thank you Hide. See you tomorrow. “
She entered her apartment and locked the door. She leaned her back against the door before sliding down til she sat on the floor. She was going insane. She could have sworn someone was watching her.
Hide said goodbye to a closed door. He turned and started on his own way home.
From above a nearby building, a certain Binge Eater watched the exchange with cold eyes. That bastard was trying to take her darling away. (Y/N) belongs to her.
~~~
Hide received a phone call from Kaneki when he was by the CCG emergency vehicles. He had gotten some food while on his way home.
“You are a lucky bastard, you know that”, Hide spoke into his phone as he ate.
“No joke. Who would have thought she likes the same author as me?”, Kaneki said as he ate his food on his side of the phone.
“For real. What’s the author's name again? Sen Tasasaki?”, Hide asked.
“Yeah. It’s (Y/N)’s favorite author as well. Oh and get this. We made plans to go to the bookstore together Sunday”, Kaneki said.
“You and (Y/N)”, Hide asked.
Hide didn’t like that. Not one bit.
Kaneki blushed.
“No. I meant Rize and me. You know, the girl at the cafe”, Kaneki rushed out.
Hide sighed in relief.
“Seriously? That sounds about as exciting as watching paint dry. But, you kids have fun”, Hide said.
“Thanks man”, Kaneki said.
Hide hung up the phone on Kaneki. He was glad that his angel wouldn’t be spreading time with Kaneki. That meant he had more time with (Y/N) without Kaneki interfering. Hide hurried his way home.
~~~
It was close to 9 p.m. when (Y/N) texted both Kaneki and Hide goodnight. She thought for a moment before texting Kaneki one more time asking if she had lent him her favorite book by Sen Tasasaki. She couldn’t find the book anywhere. She really wanted to read it again.
She wasn’t feeling good. The last couple of sleepless nights have been rough on her. She still could not shake the feeling of someone or something was watching her. She turned off the lights and crawled into bed. (Y/N) was asleep the moment her heard hit her pillow.
After an hour or two, from the unlocked window in her apartment, a ghoul crawled. The ghoul crept in the tiny apartment and into the sleeping girls bedroom. The ghoul stepped into the light coming from the window in the room.
Yamori looked down at the sleeping girl. The covers had fallen off of her and onto the floor revealing the underwear the girl was sleeping in. She was curled up on her side. Yamori watched as (Y/N) breathed slowly though her slightly opened mouth. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and ran his hand down the side of her body. His hand started to slipped in between her thighs. In between her thighs, it is so warm. He wanted to bury himself there. God. He wondered how she would feel around him. His hand subconsciously started to rise from its place between (Y/N)’s thighs. He was getting dangerously close to his pet’s flower.
(Y/N) grumbled and rolled over. Her face held a tense look. It was almost like she was having a bad dream. Her breath hitched.
Yamori halted and listened. He could hear her breathing even out. He knew it was time to go.Yamori could not risk getting caught. As much as he didn’t want to, he removed his hand. Another time. He would have another time to play with his pet. He backed away from her. As quietly as he had entered the apartment, he had left.
~~~
It was a bright and beautiful Sunday. Kaneki and Rize were sitting together in a small cafe.
“So tell me Kaneki. Out of all of Takatsuki’s novels, which one is your favorite?”, Rize asked.
Kaneki looked up as he thought.
“I guess I would have to go with her first book.”, Kaneki supplied.
Rize gave a smile. (Y/N) liked that book. She should buy her another one. Rize took (Y/N)’s original copy. She couldn’t help it. The book smelled so much like her darling.
“It was a breakout hit,” she answered.
Kaneki blushed. He looked down and saw inside her dress. His eyes shifted and noticed his date’s plate.
“Rize, you don't eat much, do you?”
He was willing to do anything to keep his eyes off of Rize’s chest.
“Huh?”
Rize looked confused before looking at her plate. She swallowed. She could feel the food crawling up her throat. That wasn’t good.
“ Oh Actually, I'm on a dietary regimen. Excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”, she said as she scurried off.
She's such a lady. However; she is nowhere near (Y/N) in terms of ladyship. Stop it Kaneki! You are on a date with Rize not (Y/N). I wonder what a date with (Y/N) would be like. No! Stop! Do not think of (Y/N). Think only of Rize. Only (Y/N)... Think of (Y/N).
~~~
“Thank you very much for today.”, Rize said as the two walked along the road.
“No, thank you. It-It's been fun”, Kaneki spoke up as he blushed.
Rize halted. She gave Kaneki a nervous and scared look. It’s time to get rid of him.
Kaneki noticed.
“Something wrong”, he asked.
“The truth is, I live near where these recent incidents where the ghouls have been. Just thinking about it even now, I can't stop from trembling. I don’t want you to think I am weak. But I’m scared to walk home alone. “
Her voice trembled. Whether from excitement or fear, it is unknown. False tears filled her eyes. She held her hand to her chest.
“I'll walk you home. What kind of date would I be if I didn’t at least do that much”, Kaneki said reassuringly.
Rize brought her hand up to her face. Rize smirked behind her hand. Yes, this would do. Soon, this human would not bother her darling anymore.
Rize walked beside Kaneki as they made their way to Rize’s place.
On the way to Rize’s place, Kaneki started up a conversation with her
“Yes, so then Hide asked me, "Which do you like better, me or novels?” Kaneki said.
“He sounds like a funny person.”, Rize chuckled.
She was bored out of her mind but knew that she had to wait for the right moment to kill him.
“Was there are reason for liking books or is it a new found passion”, asked as she continued.
She was planning on tuning him out.
“My dad left us a lot of books in our house. I lost my dad before I can even remember.I liked the books he left, and while my mom was out working, I spent the time reading them. When I was younger, I met (Y/N). She used to come over, and we would spend hours together reading. It’s one of the few things we do together without anyone else”, Kaneki rambled on, no longer paying attention.
Rize perked up. Sure, she was mad that Kaneki was spending time with her darling, but this was information that she could use to get closer to her darling. She would just have to eat Kaneki slowly and painfully.
“Then, ever since my mom died You know, Hide and (Y/N) are the only ones I've ever told this to.”, Kaneki finished.
“Is that so? Ah It's this way.”, Rize spoke up.
The two went by Touka and her friend. Touka listened as she past Rize and Kaneki.
She led Kaneki down the dark pathway. Her grip tightened on Kaneki. She couldn’t let him get away. Not that he could if he wanted to.
Kaneki followed innocently. He could not even imagine what was about to happen.
The two stopped in front of a set of train tracks.
“Well, I'm right over here”, Rize smirked.
It’s time. Soon the only one her darling would need would be her.
“Rize, Um, if you wouldn't mind, can I see you again? We do have a similar taste in books, and we're the same age. There's a lot we have in common, huh?”, Kaneki asked nervously.
He needed to get (Y/N) out of his mind. He needed a distraction. Rize could be his distraction from (Y/N).
“Kaneki Y- Yes? The truth is, I noticed you.
The way you were looking at me.”, Rize spoke.
“Huh”, Kaneki was confused.
“I, too happen to be interested in you.”
Rize walked and hugged him.
Kaneki blushed and gasped.
Rize moved towards his neck.
“I want (Y/N) as much as you want her”
A train flew by.
Rize’s kagune formed and centered on Kaneki’s eye. Rize sunk her teeth into Kaneki.
Kaneki felt a searing pain in his shoulder. It hurt. It hurt! It hurt! The smell of iron filled the air.
Rize pulled away with a sadistic grin on her face. Blood dropped from her mouth. Her eyes were black with red pupils. Finally, her darling would be hers and hers alone.
Their bags fell to the ground.
“Ah,Tasty!”, the ghoul teased.
She pulled away from him.
Kaneki fell on the ground holding his shoulder while whimpering patheticly.
Rize’s coat fell onto the ground as she approached Kaneki.
Kaneki looked up at her.
“Kaneki, there's something I like even more than reading.Know what it is? It's pulling out all the organs of someone who isn't trying to run away from me especially someone who wants to take my darling away”, Rize smirked.
Kaneki was swallowed in fear. His eyes widened.
Rize’s kagune  shot out from her body. She was laughing like a maniac.
“That expression! It's fantastic! Would you let me thrill myself even more?! (Y/N) will be glad you won’t be there to bother her anymore. (Y/N) is mine. “, Rize teased.
Kaneki was quick to get to his feet. He starting running in the outside direction of the ghoul.
“No way! No way! No way! No way! No way! No way! No way!”, Kaniekei frantically said.
“Oh god. She is going to take (Y/N) from me. (Y/N) is mine.”, Kaneki’s mind screamed at him.
Rize’s kagune reached out and dragged Kaneki back to her.
“I caught you! You can’t run from me”, Rize teased.
The ghoul tossed Kaneki to the side.
Kaneki struggled to stand up. He was holding his wound from earlier.
“I’m going for you Kaneki”, Rize laughed.
She jumped up in the air using her kagune. She started her descent towards the human. Her kagune wrapped around Kaneki. She decided to have some more fun. She slowly started to crush Kaneki.
Blood left Kaneki’s mouth.
“What fun. I have made a mess out of you. (Y/N) would be so happy about this”, the ghoul teased.
She gave a twisted grin.
“Kaneki! I'm going to gently scramble up your insides for you now, okay? Uh-oh, did you die? That's too bad.I really did like you.There's just the right amount of fat on you; you look nice and soft, and easy to eat.”, she went on to say.
The sound of metal clinking against one other could be heard.
A confused Rize looked up.
The metal was falling and falling fast. It was not long before both the ghoul and the human were crushed by the falling metal.
“How …. could … this … happen”, Rize chocked from under the metal.
Sirens filled the air as Kaneki went under.
From above the pile of fallen metal, stood the purple haired waiter from Anteiku.
Love made me do it… my lovely (Y/N).
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Yandere Profiles
Name: Rize Kamishiro/ Binge Eater Status: Dead First Meeting: Ethereal Nickname: Darling Reason: She loves (Y/N) more than anything else. She felt that darling was the perfect name for (Y/N). She likes the way the word darling rolls off her tongue.
Name: Hideyoshi Nagachika/ Hide Status: Alive First Meeting: Ethereal Nickname: (Y/N) Reason:  Hide likes the way (Y/N) tastes on his lips. He can’t get enough of it because it is addicting. He calls her (Y/N) because she is perfect and no nickname can match her.
Name: Ken Kaneki/ Eyepatch Status: Alive First Meeting: Ethereal Nickname: Honey Reason: He remembers what honey tasted like. (Y/N) has always smelled sweet and her scent got stronger after he became a ghoul. He calls her honey because he believes she would taste like honey.
Name: Touka Kirishima/ Rabbit Status: Alive First Meeting: Ethereal Nickname: Dear Reason: Touka deeply loves and cherishes (Y/N). She couldn’t live or function without (Y/N) by her side. She calls her dear because (Y/N) is simply hers and she believes that (Y/N) likes the nickname.
Name: Yakumo Oomori/ Yamori/ Jason Status: Alive First Meeting: Love Made Me Do It Nickname: My (Y/N) Reason: (Y/N) belongs to him and him alone. He wants everyone to know that (Y/N) is his. He calls her my (Y/N) because he owns her and all of the love she has.
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Chapter cover was made by vasiadiadein!
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maluminspace · 4 years
Text
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Genre: Fluff
Pairings: Luke Hemmings/FTM Reader
Word Count: 2k
Requested by: @wildmalumflower
Please could you write a soft Luke fic? Maybe a cute anniversary date or something?
Trigger Warnings: strong language, vague references to past deadnaming, misgendering and transphobia.
A/N: I was overwhelmed by the love that my last FTM fic got, so of course I am back with more for my Andy! <3 Thank you to @h0tsos​ for helping me decide on the song for this! Title taken from ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ by INXS
***
“This is too much, Luke!” You gasp as you step into the huge, spacious hotel room.
The first thing that grabs your attention is the ornate, four poster bed set against the wall just to your right. A very large window and glass door in front of you reveal a large balcony that overlooks the city. Other notable contents of the room include a little sitting area (complete with a wall-mounted flat screen TV, cozy sofa and fluffy rug), the largest wooden wardrobe you’ve ever seen and what you’re sure is a jacuzzi bathtub, just visible through the open bathroom door.
In fact, the whole décor screams ‘overpriced’ and borderline pretentious but the romantic gesture from your boyfriend means the whole world to you. Plus you’re pretty hopeful that you’ll get to use the balcony and bathtub to tick a few things off of your ‘sex bucket list’ later.
“Well three years is a big deal!” Luke grins as he wheels the suitcase over to the far corner of the room near the large window. “I never thought I’d find anyone that would put up with me for that long.”
Your heart instantly melts at the soft look on your boyfriend’s face as he stares out of the window at the pretty cityscape below. He’s never loved himself much, in fact - that was part of what you’d bonded over. You’d never been a big fan of yourself either. The two of you had been searching for someone to reassure you, to love you for you are. Your own quest had been a subconscious one, you hadn’t even realised that’s what you’d needed until this lanky dork had shyly approached you at a mutual friend’s birthday party.
Over the years you’d been together, you’d learnt that Luke’s search for self acceptance had started with him sleeping around. He’d made no secret of the fact that he’d gone to bed with pretty much anyone that had expressed the slightest interest in him. Despite thinking that sex would eventually lead to love, it turned out to be nothing but a distraction from his everyday life.
The fact that Luke had always been so open and honest with you about his past made it easy for you to open up to him too. Following your initial attraction to him, you’d been determined to start your relationship off with the truth. You’d started your first date by coming out to him as a trans man. It’d been a deal-breaker for so many other people in the past, but Luke had simply taken your hand and smiled softly. He’d told you that you were the hottest guy at the party the previous night and he just couldn’t believe you’d agreed to meet him. You’re pretty sure that was the moment you’d fallen in love with him. That was three years ago and the feeling hadn’t faded one bit.
Stepping over to the window, you wrap one arm around Luke’s waist and cuddle into his side. “How many times do I have to tell you that you deserve to be loved, Hemmings.” You huff, nestling under his arm, revelling in his familiar scent and warmth.
He lets out a weak chuckle and hugs you close, almost as if he’s scared you’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. “I’m just still in shock that you haven’t ran for the hills yet, precious.” He explains, stroking your shoulder gently through the faded denim of your jacket. “I mean, you’re literally perfect and I’m still a bit of a screw up.”
Jabbing Luke gently in the ribs you lift your head to fix him with a stern glare. “You’re my screw up, Lukey, you always be.” You insist, “And I am so far from perfect... People still misgender and deadname me all the fucking time. I can’t even get the world to see me for who I am.”
Luke cups your cheek in one large hand as he turns to face you, lowering his head until the tip of his nose is pressed to yours. There’s a fierceness burning in his usually soft blue eyes, the same glint that appears every single time you disagree with him about how much of an amazing person you are. “Other people’s ignorance and stupidity has no reflection on you. None of that has anything to do with you being a perfect human being.” He whispers, yet his determination and absolute unwavering belief in his words are still all-too-clear. “You’re kind, honest, generous, funny, smart and have more love to give than anyone else i’ve ever known! Those are the things that make you perfect.”
A tiny subconscious smile curls the corners of your lips. “Is that all? I’m pretty sure you forgot a couple of reasons actually…”
Luke arches one of his golden eyebrows, a silent urge for you to continue. 
“Well, the fact that I make the best pancakes on earth has to count, right?” You giggle, pecking a kiss to Luke’s lips. 
When he pulls away a moment later, your boyfriend rests his forehead against yours, his unruly caramel coloured curls falling into your face and tickling your cheeks. “You’re right, precious… That definitely strengthens your position.”
“Speaking of positions…” You smirk cheekily. “I refuse to believe that you’ve ever had anyone that can 69 better than me.”
Luke laughs, running one hand down your arm until he can tangle his fingers through yours. “I’ve always told you that you’re the best at that.” He agrees easily. “I’m glad it was so easy for me to convince you how amazing you are.”
Despite the fact that you’ll never be able to fully rid your mind of the doubts that years of terrible experiences have buried within you, it’s getting easier to remind yourself that you’re not all bad afterall. You only have Luke to thank for that and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life showing him how grateful you are to have him.
“Room service will be here in about an hour.” Luke whispers into the comfortable silence that had settled over you both. “I thought we could eat out on the balcony, it overlooks the whole city.”
You tilt your head just enough to look out of the large window at the view beyond it. The sun is setting over the city, casting a warm orange glow over the impressive buildings and the seemingly endless tangle of roads. It really is an incredibly beautiful sight. 
“It’ll look even prettier when it's all lit up after dark!” Luke rambles, apparently feeling the need to convince you that he’s planned everything out well.
“It already looks gorgeous, Luke.” You smile softly, turning back to capture his lips in another kiss. “The view in here is even better, though. You know I love how pretty you look at sunset.” 
A slight blush heats Luke’s cheeks as he kisses you back a little more enthusiastically. “Not as beautiful as you, precious.” He mumbles between kisses.
“Hey if we have an hour to kill until our food gets here, do you fancy testing out this massive bed with me?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, jabbing your thumb in the direction of the fancy four poster bed you’d noticed when you first walked into the room.
“I plan to put that to very good use later, but there’s something I want to do first.” Luke smiles bashfully. “Before we both get too drunk on champagne, I want to do this.” He pecks a kiss to the end of your nose before pulling his phone from his pocket. He taps away on the screen for a few moments before the unmistakable intro to ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ by INXS begins to play through some unseen speakers. That’s probably why it’d taken him a little while, he was connecting his phone to the sound system. “We have to dance to our song on our anniversary, it’s tradition!”
Luke’s eyes twinkle in the dying light, just as they had done when he’d walked you home from your first date. This song had been playing in a bar across the road from your apartment building when he’d finally plucked up the courage to kiss you goodnight. You’d insisted that he sing it with you a few weeks later when you’d taken him to a karaoke bar on a date. A few months after that you’d danced to it together at his cousin’s wedding reception. Luke had also insisted that it be the first song you listened to together on your first night after moving in with him. It was undeniably your song, something special that ran through the fabric of your entire relationship, always reminding you of significant moments in your journey together.
Taking Luke’s hand, you allow him to pull you into his chest before you follow his lead, swaying clumsily to the song. “I love you, precious.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear over the music. “You know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, don’t you?”
You nod, knowing that now is not the time to dwell on all of the reasons why you think that Luke deserves so much more than you. “Who knows how you’d cope without my talented mouth and skills in the kitchen, eh?” You giggle, still unable to take the compliment properly.
Luke rolls his eyes fondly before resting his cheek on the top of your head. “I’m trying to have a serious moment with you, dorkface.” He mumbles, although his tone is much softer than he undoubtedly means it to be.
“I’m sorry, I'll Shut up now.” You promise, snuggling into your ridiculously tall boyfriend. 
The two of you sway together slowly for a few moments in silence, before Luke pulls enough to meet your gaze. “I mean it y’know.” He mumbles, his cheeks flushing again. “Every time I tell you that you mean the world to me.” Luke clarifies. “I sort of think it’s about time I show you how serious I am, rather than just using words all the time.”
You’re more than a little confused by his statement. “You show me all the time, Luke.” You reassure him. “Like when you take a ten minute detour on your way home from work at least once a week, just to pick up my favourite chocolate cupcakes from that fancy bakery. Surprises like this trip count, too!”
“I’m talking about something more permanent than cupcakes and weekend trips, precious.” Luke clarifies. 
When you offer him nothing more than a confused expression as a response, Luke takes both of your hands in one of his before reaching into the pocket of his jeans with the other. “I was gonna wait until we were eating our fancy meal out on the balcony to do this…” He sighs nervously. “But this moment feels much more fitting.”
Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, Luke drops down on one knee, still holding your hands in one of his as he lifts the other to reveal a tiny black box. “Luke!” You gasp, wriggling one of your hands free of his grasp in order to cover your gaping mouth with it.
He whispers your name as tears well in his eyes when he opens the box to reveal a simple gold band. “Will you marry me?”
Tears are streaming down your own face as you drop to ground, wrapping both arms around Luke and almost knocking the ring from his hand. Your throat feels so thick with emotion that you’re pretty sure you’re not able to form words, so you nod frantically, hoping that’ll be a good enough answer.
Luke must realise that your silent gesture is the best he can hope for in the moment, as he takes the ring from the box and backs up just enough to give him space to slide it onto your finger. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait, I…”
You cut him off with a kiss, holding his face tenderly, not caring about how his damp cheeks are making your hands wet. 
When you finally pull apart for air, Luke meets your gaze, staring into your eye like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. “You’ve just made me the happiest guy in the universe.” He whispers, his voice still thick with tears.
You smile back at him, hoping that you can convey every ounce of love you have for him through that lingering moment of eye contact. “I think that’s me, actually…”
Tag list: @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @h0tsos @loveroflrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @wildmichaelflower @wildfl0wer-meg @irwinkitten @cxddlyash @wildmalumflower @cashtonasff5sos @iovehemmings @lowpowermodex @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @celticclifford @5-secondsofcolor @queer-5sos
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“Idly, Franziska noticed how their steps perfectly aligned with each other. That shouldn’t have made her heart flutter the way it did.“
Words: 1457 Rating: G Warnings: None Pairing: Franziska von Karma / Maya Fey Summary: Franziska is leaving the courtroom when Maya catches her attention. It's really a waste of her time to chat with her like this, but she just can't help herself.
Franziska sighed, stepping out of the lobby and heading towards the stairs. She had planned to leave the courtroom as soon as the case was over to prepare for the next, but instead paused, a glimpse of dark hair catching her eye.
Perhaps the hair shouldn’t be what caught her attention, what with the person it was attached to calling her name and sprinting at her as fast as someone wearing platform sandals could.
“Hey!” Maya called, waving an arm back and forth as she darted forward to meet Franziska’s slowing strides.
She finally caught up and matched pace, breathing heavily with a smile. Idly, Franziska noticed how their steps perfectly aligned with each other. That shouldn’t have made her heart flutter the way it did.
“Maya Fey.” Franziska didn’t quite make eye contact, but acknowledged her presence regardless.
“Hi Franziska!” Maya chirped, and yes, that was a good way to describe her, Franziska thought.  She reminded Franziska of a songbird. Carefree, curious, mischievous, yet elegant somehow… beautiful, even.
“So, you just left a trial?” Maya asked, leaning forward and tilting her head, her feet swinging out in front of her as she walked along.
Franziska nodded.
“Obviously.”
Maya tilted her head back, looking up at the courtroom’s ceiling.
“Nice, nice. How do you think it went?”
Franziska took a quick glance at the ceiling to see what was so interesting. Nothing really, but maybe Maya saw something she didn’t.
“I won, naturally,” Franziska responded. Something about her own voice seemed wrong to her.
“Congrats!” Maya cheered, pumping a fist in the air.
“It was an open and shut case. I’m not even sure why they wanted to call me in for it anyway…”
Maya tilted her head again.
“I mean maybe, but it’s still impressive! It must be hard doing so many trials after all!” She laughed to herself as she looked off. “Nick only takes like, five cases in a year and he’s still going gray over it! It’s kinda incredible you can do so much at once, haha!”
Franziska scoffed.
“Well, I am much more competent than that fool.”
She took a moment to think, wondering if the walk out of the courtroom had always been this long. Part of her wished it was longer, which she hastily buried.
Her tongue hesitated on her lips before she spoke again.
“Speaking of… that fool… where is he? I was under the impression you always stuck fairly close to him.”
Maya raised an eyebrow.
“Hm? Oh, Nick? Nah, he’s not here today, he’s back at the office, at least I think… He might have left for lunch?”
Now it was Franziska’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Really? What are you doing here if not to accompany him?”
Maya laughed.
“You know I have a life outside of Nick, right?”
Heat rose to Franziska’s cheeks.
“I-I knew that, naturally! I’ve simply never seen you without him not also being close by.”
Maya raised a finger to her lips.
“Hmm… I guess that’s true! It’s not like you really see us outside of investigations or trials. That’s kind of disappointing to be honest…”
“Disappointing?”
Maya sighed.
“Well… you know! Mr. Edgeworth and Nick are rivals and they hang out sometimes, and Nick texts him a lot, at least I think that’s Edgeworth, he always gets all flustered and defensive whenever I ask, but I don’t know who else he’d be texting and he gets this dumb smile on his face and-“ Maya cuts herself off. “Nick is gonna kill me if he finds out I told you any of this.”
Franziska made a mental note of Maya’s ramblings before speaking again.
“Well, if he does I suppose I would just have to find him guilty on your behalf.”
Maya smiled teasingly, her eyes shimmering with playful malice.
“Wow, you would do that for me? I guess you really do have a heart!”
Franziska spluttered some excuse out, but it was clear Maya wasn’t listening.
They continued walking a few more steps before Franziska spoke again.
“So, if not to watch Phoenix Wright, why did you sit in a trial?”
“Well I-“ Maya began before backtracking, “Wait, hold on a minute! How did you know I sat in a trial? I could’ve just been here for a book or something! How do you know I don’t just really like the food here?”
Franziska couldn’t help but let a smile sneak onto her face.
“You have some court confetti caught in your hair.”
Sure enough, the tiny multi colored scraps of paper clung to the thick, dark strands of Maya’s hair. The light caught onto the tips of the confetti as she stepped into and out of the reach of streams of light that flowed through the court house’s windows.
Maya laughed, reaching up to grab one off her head.
“So I do!”
She held the light blue piece of paper up to the light, squinting to look at it as if it were something much more valuable. She laughed once more, trailing off into a contented sigh.
“Yeah, I came to watch your trial, actually! Surprise! Bet you didn’t see me up there.”
The rhythmic clicking of Franziska’s heels halted as she stopped momentarily, stunned.
Maya stopped too, a few steps ahead, and turned to look back at Franziska.
“What? You okay?”
Franziska shook her head and kept walking, speeding up to meet Maya.
“I’m fine.”
Their steps matched. Again.
Franziska didn’t even take the time to regain her mental composure before she began to question Maya.
“Why on earth did you come to watch me? Are you trying to find flaws in my work to hold against me? It won’t work, my case was flawless-“
Maya interrupted, waving her hands about as she spoke.
“No, no, no!! Hang on a second, whoa, no! I didn’t come to like… sabotage you or something! That would be so weird! And mean too, who would do that?”
Franziska could think of a few people, but she kept her mouth shut.
“And I came to watch you because I wanted to? I mean anyone can just walk in and I hadn’t seen you in a while. Plus I didn’t have a way to contact you so…”
The gears in Franziska's brain turned at lightning speeds trying to comprehend the sheer madness behind Maya’s actions. Consistently, she got stuck on one thing.
Maya wanted to see me?
Franziska sighed, hoping it masked the whirlwind of broken logic and emotion swirling around in her mind as she spoke.
“Well, next time you want to contact me you don’t have to attend a trial. Just call me.”
Maya pouted.
“Well this was more fun! Plus, like I said before, I don’t have your number or anything…”
Impulsively, Franziska pulled a business card and pen out of her jacket pocket. Scribbling as best as she could while walking, she wrote down the digits of her cell’s number in admittedly still very neat handwriting and then shoved the paper in Maya’s direction before she had the sense to abandon the entire idea.
“There. Now you do.”
Maya oooh’d at the card, tilting it back and forth to see the shimmer of the ink, still wet.
“Did you just give me your cell phone number?”
Franziska coughed into her hand.
“The number that’s written is often busy and hardly ever checked. If you need me in an emergency, the number I’ve written will be more effective.”
Maya smirked.
“Looks like you should update your business cards then.”
Franziska refused to let her face or voice betray emotion.
“Looks like I should.”
As she spoke, the pair finally reached the doors to the courthouse entrance, swinging out to a single ray of setting sunlight shimmering through the clouds. Despite the gray skies, the world seemed to be cast in a warm, comforting light.
A car was waiting at the curb, and Franziska knew it was for her. The thought shouldn’t have made her feel as disappointed as it did.
“Well, looks like this is where we part!” Maya commented. “See you later!”
Franziska nodded, “Goodbye,” and walked towards the street.
She had only gotten one foot into the car when she heard Maya call out to her, one final time.
“Hey Franziska! You should know, there’s some confetti stuck in your hair too!”
Her voice carried, a bubbly sound, and when it reached Franziska’s ear she got the distinct feeling she would find herself playing it over again in her mind.
She didn’t respond and closed the door.
As the car began to rumble down the road, Franziska reached up to touch her hair, and found herself pulling out a violet scrap of paper.
She smiled.
“So there is.”
[The End]
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kitsoa · 3 years
Text
So, about your Theory ...
So, we talked on Reddit a while ago, Kitsoa, and I have some more thoughts about your theory. It’s more rambling and longer than what I previously intended – my apologies for this.
Kitsoa- Hello again! I’ll reply in brief through quotes though I’m not interested in doing a solid defense of my theory. Mostly it’s a lot of creative stretching using the crumbs of the narrative and I’m not feeling particularly impassioned to bring out the counter citations nor do I think it necessary.
Also: I have written and re-iterated upon this meta theory of mine multiple times so if I am not referencing the correct Original Post in question that’s probably because I never bothered to do a big manifesto and I will take the fall for that confusion.
It’s certainly very interesting but parts of it seem to not only be unsupported but outright contradicted by the games. For instance, take your surmise that Xehanort’s villainy is motivated by his knowledge of the KH world as fictional and his self-knowledge that he has to play the role of the villain to create a conflict and thus sustain the universe. His actual speech in Re:Mind after Dark Road’s world tour points to something else:
“All around the world people live seemingly peaceful lives. They believe themselves to be moral and virtuous, but it’s all an act. Darkness lurks in the pit of everyone’s heart. Their light is a total farce. Those who are weak, and who desire greater power, simply strip the strong of their power, and convince themselves they’ve earned it. That’s how people become tainted by darkness. They believe what they want them to believe, using hollow reasons as justification. They repeat this cycle, and their darkness grows. No, its better they be ruled by darkness. People carry delusions of having power, but it’s a lie. They are but sheep pretending to be wolves. Though I can admit, I can understand why.”
This edgy little diatribe isn’t about the nature of the universe or Xehanort’s own origin … it’s about his view of human (or talking animal, w/e) nature. It’s a similar theme to his final speech in KH3, and ends not with him concluding that he needs to play the role of a villain to create conflict ,,, but that to prevent the KH universe collapsing into chaos, he needs to become its absolute godlike ruler. Which is what sets up the conflict, yes, but his goal isn’t explicitly to create conflict to keep the universe going.
Re: Xehanorts motive aligning with a meta-awareness on his ‘role’ as a villain. This is a theme I was definitely playing with. Xehanort is clearly symbolic of the corrupting pursuit of knowledge and we have a god-like encounter spark stranger behavior yet. It’s a fascinating trope yes? Corrupted by the Truth. Saving the world by sacrificing the world. That was my angle. The World Tour from Re:mind had him summarizing his villainous disdain and I’ll agree that it gives him no direction towards a ‘role’. But I also take note of the fact that this enlightenment comes directly from the actions of the chessmaster MoM who could feasibly manipulate Xehanort towards a conflict-sparking war. If Xehanort isn’t directly and consciously responsible for fulfilling the metacontextual requirements for a ‘story’ then MoM is. And as I’ve stated it probably comes from a more experimental god-mode type motive.
And again, your argument that time doesn’t really exist in the Disney worlds until Sora arrives and this is related to them literally being stories that he’s diving into. I don’t know where you get this from, at all. We go into Disney worlds and experience plots unrelated to the films (KH1 Olympus, Halloween Town); we go into Disney worlds in medias res (too many to count); we go into Disney worlds before the movie’s events take place (BBS Deep Space, Neverland); we even go into Disney worlds in-between or after the movies’ events (KH3 Toy Box, San Fransokyo). Which rather gets in the way of a simplistic “Sora arrives in the Disney world, time starts flowing forward and the movie starts” look at things. You’d previously characterized this as “every world has its unique story” which IMO would be a more reasonable way to look at things rather than the stronger “the worlds literally are the stories and nothing else”.
I’ll defend this a little. The entire concept of the Worlds as Stories demands only that we recognize a higher reality. A reader/audience/ creator relationship with the happenings. When I say ‘time doesn’t exist’ I’m saying it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does matter is the time spent there by Sora (or his subsidiaries). Time is going to move between visits but not at a pace that runs independently of Sora (and co). And all of the events within those worlds are unique to the source material-- on the virtue of having Sora. But when I say the worlds are the stories, I mean it... metaphysically. The relationship between the greater kh multi-verse (and no greater) and these literal planet world island things is that of stories given form. Most all of my KH musings come from the very simple concept that formless metaphysical concepts like love, bonds, imagination, memories etc are literal, tangible things. Tangible. In this, Worlds are not so much another universe equal to other universes. They are a story, fictional and potentially subservient to a greater reality. It’s only from that understanding that I add the extra layer upon KH (and Quadratum by later extension) itself. 
The exact logic behind this reasoning is cyclic. KH is a fictional story to the literal higher reality (us) and seeing how there's a parallel within the narrative, I just applied that logic within the universe and used my understanding of the ‘literal metaphysics’ theme going on with other lore concepts.
Power of Waking ejecting Sora into “real reality”: This analysis is based on the idea that Sora is “waking himself up” out of dream states until he “wakes up” out of KH reality into “real reality”. But YMX tells him (and implicitly us, via the conventions of this kind of villainous exposition) that Sora is repeating the same error he made in 3D and sending himself into the abyss at the bottom of the Realm of Darkness, not doing the opposite thing and “waking himself up” out of KH reality.
I’ll just punt Power of Waking stuff. There is a lot of stuff with the power but I take most of the speculation from the name and the results. There’s a big interweave of darkness that can support or deny my thoughts within the next sentence and I’m electing now to wait and see. Sora abuses the power of waking-- ends up in another reality. Waking--> realities--> dreams--> sleep. Run with the word association. I like to think the ambiguity with sleep and the darkness of abyss has more to say about the nature of reality as a whole ergo: “everything is a dream” concepts that are hard to swallow. What is waking up, if you find yourself deeper in sleep? Nonesense stuff like that.
MoM as Creator of the KH universe/Quadratum as the “higher reality”: Not only is he presented as a clear villain figure; given that the rest of the Foretellers are based on the Seven Deadly Sins, MoM as their leader would clearly represent the sin of pride. We also have him saying in Back Cover that he “might” disappear from the KH world, suggesting that it was beyond his control; and Luxu’s report suggests that the KH3 Keyblade War was engineered to open a means for him to return to the KH universe, presumably via Sora going to where he is in Quadratum/”unreality”.
I believe strongly in this still. MoM can be a villainous figure and at the mercy of universal laws while still being the Creator and denizen of a higher plane. I try not to dig into scenarios too much but follow me here: Creator of the world, literally self-inserts himself into a world of his own creation. He’s a verified Mad Scientist who of course likes to experiment and test his creations and he does so directly, physically, to them. There, he put them on auto-pilot and is watching Characterization carry on. I am not claiming that he is breaking the rules of his own universe and traveling in and out with ease. Nor am I saying if he is exercising any sort of Creator-granted power over their will. He’s there, he’s interacting with them, and he’s watching them. I find it to be an intentional obstaining of power. Self imposed limitations OR an understood sacrifice for this meddling (think, giving up ‘divine’ form to live amongst his ‘mortal’ creations in divine parallel. he is at the will of his universe but not out of control.)
When he says he ‘might’ disappear not only is he being vague on purpose to terrorize his high-strung apprentices but he’s made no indication that it’s something against his intention. And the actions taken by Luxu in formulating his return mean nothing to his plan or his ability or his potential Creator status. I can’t stress how Long Game I perceive MoM’s actions to be. All in the effort to observe, toy, and curate the perfect... something. And since I am talking about the literal nature of stories, I mean the ‘perfect’ story.
Also, we may note that if it was truly a “higher reality”, Quadratum wouldn’t be noted as the fictional Verum Rex video game in KH3 – there’d be no explicit sign at all of its existence, as it would be the higher reality generating the lower one. Which suggests that what may actually be the case, if the series is going meta, is that KH-verse and Quadratum view each other as fictional – in which case MoM would be somebody falsely claiming or believing to be the Creator, which makes sense in relation to the sin he represents.
Not that I’m saying KH-verse isn’t generated by a higher reality/being; but I don’t feel that the higher reality is Quadratum or that the higher being is MoM. There was a fairly interesting post on Reddit comparing KH to Plato’s world of the forms; in which case Kingdom Hearts would be the higher reality from which both regular KH-verse and Quadratum are generated. Or “unreality” really is a “lower reality” than the regular KH-verse, which TBF seems a bit less likely than “’reg. KH-verse’ and ‘unreality’ view each other as mutually fictional but are actually ontologically equal”.
I think my theory posts predate most of the Quadratum reveal so the details of the reveal haven’t been accounted for in my words but I did call it when breaking down Remind’s Yozora scenario. That said yes, I think there is a higher reality and I feel like you mentioned it outright. I see KH and Quadratum as equal fictional realities, segregated but connected through creator. Some of my earlier meta posts before re:mind saw Quadratum as the “higher reality” (or like “host reality”) until the presence of an author between them became apparent enough. We can potentially consider MoM=the author as a separate subject in this respect as it’s not entirely dependant on that reveal. Ultimately, my point in this caveat of the theory is that the relationship between KH and Quadratum strikes an intentionally meta-referential parallel to the actual creator Nomura. That’s an angle that is very audacious and I have full understanding in the denial but it’s my supporting evidence to a higher power within the re:mind secret episode alone.  As for the ‘unreality’ I literally think that is just a way for them to say ‘fictional’ without saying the word, not necessarily an indication of ‘rank’ (for lack of a better word). I use a little reverse logic on the reveal in Melody of Memory when I claim they are ‘equal fictional realities’. No one thinks to assume that they themselves are also “fake” so it;s not a stretch to believe that the reverse assumption could be true. This putting KH and Quadratum on the same level and almost guaranteeing a connection through a mutual creator. 
Now, you also talk about the Whispers in FF7R, but in that they’re in-universe contextualised as “guardians of destiny”, essentially manifestations of the Will of the Planet. Which just goes to show what I talked about earlier – the meta-level of a story can’t exist without a surface-level narrative. We know that the Whispers out-of-universe represent fan anger at changes to the plotline; but they’re presented as something in-universe, which can be defeated by in-universe forces (another reason I doubt it as it seems to leave no room for our heroes’ victory in the confrontation with MoM that’s being teased as the next saga).
I bring up the Whispers to note a synonymous use of the words ‘destiny’ and ‘fate’ to ‘story and ‘narrative’ Not explicitly of course, that would break the 4th wall, but its a subtext that's easier seen in a ‘remake’ because of direct references and deviations being drawn. I think the same synonymous use can be applied when brought up in KH because of their common creative entity.
Finally: How do you see this “metapocalypse” of yours playing out as an actual KH game? We know the conventions well enough by now – a trip through Disney worlds fighting monsters and villains in flashy shonen-style combat, being stalked and looked over ominously from afar by a council of villains with mysterious schemes. Then an invasion of the villains’ lair by the heroes with a final serving of flashy, SFX-heavy boss battles, a number of dramatic plot twists and arc resolutions, and an ending with the villains’ schemes having been at least forestalled. Then we get the ending credits; with an epilogue, a superboss and a secret ending all hinting at more to come.
Well I’m glad you asked! Honestly, I’m basically writing a fanfiction about it. I’m writing the story in part to engage some of these theories/speculations into a serviceable game narrative. So I’ll be vague:
Thematically: This breaking the 4th wall has the power to thematically drive home concepts of free will, defining your personhood and defying expectations. Furthermore, you have questions like... what makes something real? What makes it matter and what’s important? With growing up and the sanctity of youth being a constant struggle as the series and the characters age, the reverence in imagination and growing connections to things that aren’t stereotypically ‘real’ is a strong concept. If I were to break down the big message simply: As long as it’s real in your heart it doesn’t matter.
Overall, the reveal doesn’t really have to impact the basic formula. You can have Disney World Hopping and Villainous characters scheming and manipulating a greater force. I personally think the world-hopping parallel can become more direct with the context of it being movies/stories adding a different understanding of the process of visiting those worlds and meeting those characters. The episodes can be more about fate and predestination and can speak directly to the importance of the connections to those worlds. And the dramatic stakes are the literal threads of reality and godhood! 
If I am to be more detailed and imaginative (without substantial evidence)  I might say... MoM’s experiments in manipulating his own created world(s) are aiming to shape Sora (or 2nd favorite son Yozora) into some kind of perfect conduit for the marraige of reality and fiction and the success or failure of that process might weaponize his ability to connect with other hearts... real and not, all to the greater ascention of one chessmaster. 
(That’s not even mentioning how I have a personal reason to dislike it as it reminds me of an old theory that the KH plot was actually SRK imagining it all up in their childhood games or to put a darker twist on that idea, Sora dreaming it all up in a coma or while dying. I hated reading those ideas when I was younger and still do.)
I’m gonna sympathize hard with this. I hate ‘it was all just a dream’ theories. They are cheap and they trivialize the journey. That is not what this theory is saying. There is a higher reality in this concept and that is used as a proxy for our relationship with the series. The imagery of dreams is only a small facet of the reality/unreality theme so there is no ‘waking up’ or ‘end of story, goodbye’ attitude. The commentary is broader and it can potentially speak on the power of dreams and reality. The ‘realness’ of fake things. I’m sort of calling out KH for what it is: an imaginative story that expands upon what it means to truly experience stories.  Anyway, I rambled more than I thought. I haven’t written anything about KH in months so this was a little caffine shot for me. I’m not gonna be too stuck in the details and nor do I care exactly. I’m a story teller first and I just so happened to have predicted some things not so much because of the hints being dropped but because I understand some of the thematic intent behind the lore and certain narrative beats. The rest is just me having fun and finding the best reading. Sometimes I’m right. 
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peterthepark · 5 years
Text
Forget Me Nots
Steve Harrington x Reader
Summary: You’ve loved him for so long, enduring endless days of pining and whirlwinds of pain in your heart. It’s tearing you apart how he doesn’t recognize that you’ve been there for him this whole time. Maybe you should stick to loving from afar.
Warnings: so much angst, fluff, cursing, sadness???
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There are an abundance of flowers that symbolize something - red roses often represented romance and passion, while lilies were of devotion and innocence, and sunflowers symbolized adoration and loyalty.
Behind every flower is a story. Forget Me Nots were your favorite.
There’s an abyss that spirals within your heart as you think of him. His smile. His laugh. For years, you used to feel giddy about him, the perfect guy who happened to be your best friend. But now, you simply feel a resigned longing for Steve Harrington. Yet, one thing never changed from all those passing years - loving him from afar.
Without a doubt, your feelings and emotions for Steve have multiplied with time. They’d come to halt dangerously whenever he had a new girlfriend or a crush. At some point, you convinced yourself that you were going to tell him about how you felt. And as expected, it never occurred. Unfortunately.
You’re watering the plants at the florist shop owned by your parents. It’s a small, quaint corner store with a constant flow of customers and passerby’s. There’s been days where you hated working there - for example, Valentine’s Day was approaching. There would be copious amounts of people, flocking to you for help as they would try to find flowers and bouquets for their significant other. Only for them to break up a month later.
The miniature bell by the door rings as someone steps inside. You hands work hastily as you trim the leaves of a few house plants, your mind occupied on other things. But when you feel familiar arms squeeze around your waist, you jump, causing you to nick your finger with the gardening shears.
“Steve!” You yelp, cursing as you hold onto your wound. 
“Woah! Woah! Dude, you’re bleeding. Did I do that?” Steve scrambles to your side, inspecting the cut with instant worry. You sigh at him, heading to the backroom to take care of the injury. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Steve lingers by the doorframe, hands delved deep in his front pockets as he watches you run your finger underneath the tap. His head hangs low with guilt. 
“It’s fine, you dork.” You meet his eyes, smile faltering for a second. He searches around for the first aid kit, shushing your protests before you groan at him.
The way your finger bled could not compare to the pain of how Steve made your heart bleed everyday. Nothing was new for you, except that he was taking responsibility for this one.
“Let me do it. Band-aids are hard.” He remarks, holding your hand tenderly in his. You screw your eyes shut as you feel that familiar pulse in your body as his skin touches yours. He’s warm and soft. Your hands are cold. 
“Thanks.” You chuckle forcibly, looking over the crooked placing of the band-aid and finally noticing Steve’s dorky sailor uniform. “Anyways, what are you doing all the way out here?” You question, resting your hands on your hips. “Uh, I thought your shift at StarCourt doesn’t end till later?”
“No, yeah. I’m actually on break. I wanted to stop by and see if you were interested in grabbing some lunch with me?” He bounces on the heels of his shoes before running his hand through his messy hair. His eyes hold a glint of concern, his lip pulled between his teeth as he raises a brow at you.
“Of course, Steve. I’ll join in a few, just - just gotta wrap up shop.” You take off your apron, hanging the cheap material on the doorknob as you and Steve make your way towards the main room of the shop. 
Part of you had wanted to deny his offer. But you could never find it in yourself to say no to him, especially if there was food involved. You flip over the sign on the shop’s front door, clocking out as you head outside.
-
You hiss as coffee burns at your tongue, prickling your tastebuds with an awful burning sensation. Steve starts to laugh at you, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as he tries to keep all his food in. The quiet and cozy ambience of the café is interrupted when you and Steve are sent into a humorous coughing fit, doubling over onto the sticky table as you animatedly laugh at each other.
The interaction sends a floodgate of memories through your mind, hitting you with unwanted nostalgia. The emptiness in your heart returns instantaneously, and the grin on your face dwindles to a stoical line.
“So, what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?” He breathes out, letting a soft chuckle escape from his lips as he pushes his empty plate aside. He drums his fingers against his forearms. 
“Hm... nothing. No plans,” You shrug, swirling the spoon that sits in your coffee. You found yourself feeling sad that Steve would even think of asking that question. He knew your love life wasn’t exactly active as his, so what was the point? You clear your throat, glancing up at him with hope. “You?”
“Uh, I may have - I may have scored a date with Jennifer Jones.” He smirks, gesturing happily with his hands.
And your heart drops. Suddenly, the room is cold and you can no longer feel the warmth radiating from your coffee. Jennifer Jones? Who was that? You had no idea who she was. Steve usually - and to your dismay - shared the details about his romantic experiences. How did you not know who Jennifer was?
“Y/N?” Steve studies your reaction, but all he sees is a face void of emotion. 
Wake up. He doesn’t feel the same. Not in that way.
“Oh! That’s - that’s good.” You let the spoon clink against the mug before running your bandaged finger against the outline of your lips. You exhale, “Jennifer... I’ve never heard of her.”
“Yeah, I, uh, wanted to be sure that I actually liked her before telling you about it. I hear your advice in the back of my head every time I find someone remotely interesting.” He gazes out the window of the emptying café. His foot accidentally brushes against yours under the table, and you mirror Steve to gaze outside. “She works at Orange Julius. Really nice girl.”
“I’m sure of it. She must be pretty.” Steve agrees with a nod, taking a sip from his milkshake. Strawberry. His favorite. “And the date...” You turn back to him, trying not to alarm him with your sudden silence. “What are you planning on doing with her?”
Steve rambles about taking her to a drive-in by the city. But that was your drive-in. Only you and Steve went there. You knew you had no right to be jealous, but you couldn’t help but feel... neglected. It was valid to feel like this, right? But then, Steve mentions something else that tugs and snaps at your heartstrings. 
“Do you think you’d be able to save me a bunch of Forget-Me-Nots? I know it’s your favorite flower, but I love the story behind it. I think it’d be perfect. I really wanna make that night special for Jen. Roses just seem outdated.” You can only nod, promising him with your pinky finger that you’d keep some in the back room for him. Steve then takes note of how you play with the hair tie around your wrist, and how you’ve been looking at the table instead of him. He reaches his hand across the table subtly, grazing it against your palm. “Hey, are you okay?”
The phrase is enough to send you falling into your heart’s abyss.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
Your head is pounding as you hold everything back, pressing your tongue against the roof of your mouth to stop yourself. 
“M’fine. I’m just tired. My parents have been on my ass lately about school and the - the business.” You’re wishing that Steve can’t see the pain and tears in your eyes, but by his expression, you know that he knows something is wrong. 
“We can talk, okay? Let me help you.”
Steve takes you back to his house, ushering you into his bedroom. Your chest feels tight and your airway is constricted. He hasn’t seen you like this much, but it sends him into a immediate effort to help you. As he locks the bedroom door, you bury yourself under his covers.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Steve asks. The other half of bed dips as he sits beside you. You’re still hidden in the covers, finding comfort in the darkness and the rustling of the cotton sheets that smelled too much like him. 
“Can I ask you a question instead?” You murmur, voice muffled from being underneath layers of blankets. Steve hums, crossing his ankles over each other as he waits for you. “Have you ever felt like - like nothing is right? Like everything that could go wrong for you has gone absolutely wrong in your life?” You poke your head out, furrowing your brows.
He nods slowly, processing your question, “Yeah, sometimes.” 
“Okay, well. I feel like that a lot.”
Steve is quiet. And you would have thought that he left the room if your head  wasn’t beneath the covers anymore. But he’s silent - it scares you a little.
“Actually, yeah...” He starts, catching sight of the band-aid on your finger. “I’ve experienced that. Sucks real ass. Is there anything else?” Steve grunts as he lays down, parallel to your body as his head rests by the foot of the bed. 
Yeah, I’m fucking in love with you. 
“Not really, it’s all family and business shit and well, you already know everything about that.” You chuckle sadly, glancing back at him with an unsure expression.
“Well, see, I can tell you one thing. One right thing in your life that I know of. Actually two things. You’re very lucky, Y/N.” Steve admires the picture of you and him across the room, a framed film photo that was taken on a road trip. He lifts his head from the bed, locking eyes with you. “Okay, so. One, you have me as a friend. That’s some good fucking luck right there. I’m not wrong, am I?”
“No,” You shake your head with a delighted smile. “I am so lucky for you, Steve Harrington.”
“Right? I agree. And two, you don’t need to wear a stupid sailor uniform for work. I mean, c’mon. This shit is inhumane.” He makes a face of disgust as he pulls at the collar of his shirt. “You shouldn’t have to feel that way, yeah? And if you do feel like that ever again, call me. I’ll remind you of all the right things, not the wrong.” His tone is calm with a hint of sharpness.
Steve does care about you - a lot.
But not in the way you wished he would.
He extends his arms out, grinning as you crawled into his grasp.
It feels safe. It feels familiar.
You rest your cheek against his chest as he puts his chin on top of your head, his big hands splayed out over your back. Your hair falls like a veil against his neck, tickling him so he has to brush it away.
If only you could stay like this forever.
-
It’s the dreaded day. The day with never-ending color palettes of red, pink, and white. The day with too many hearts and too many teddy bears and too many damn customers buying flowers.
Valentine’s Day.
Fuck you.
You survey the shop, making note of how many flowers have been sold in the first couple hours from opening.
You look up as the door opens, smiling as Robin slips into the shop.
“Hey, dude.” She says raspily, hands in the pockets of her jeans as she makes her way to the counter. You recognize the pitiful smile in her features: the way her eyes are downturned, crows feet peeking from the corners.
“Hey, you.” You reply with a nod, fixing things by the register.
“Did Steve tell you?” Robin questions, head slightly tilting as she steps behind the counter to stand with you.
“Who the hell is Jennifer Jones?”
And so you and Robin sit down in the armchairs by the corner of the shop - you, occasionally getting up to help out a customer. She tells you all about this Jennifer Jones girl with narrowed eyes and wide hand gestures. You can only reply in short phrases as Robin goes onto rambling.
“She’s definitely not as pretty as you, Y/N. Like not even close. I don’t even know where Steve met her.”
“Yeah, me either. Barely tells me anything anymore.” You scoff, eyes blinking at the ceiling as you slide down into the chair. “He drives me crazy, Robin. I don’t know if it’s healthy.”
“As long as you don’t lose yourself along the way.”
Maybe you have. You’re unsure. But you don’t tell Robin that, because you feel some semblance of yourself in your body. Despite the numbness in your brain, and the potholes in your heart, you’re somewhere in there.
Just lost. Not yet found. Not gone. But lost.
“I guess maybe - maybe I should move on. You know? I’m tired of - of waiting for something to happen.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, leaning forward in your chair. “I can’t even tell him how I feel. What’s the point? And he’s my best friend, so like - how can I live with him rejecting me?”
“But how will you ever know if he does feel the same way? Y/N...” She pauses. You wait as she fishes something from the back pocket of her jeans. And your heart swells as she places it on the coffee table in front of you. It’s the bracelet that Steve had gifted you on your seventeenth birthday: a thin, silver chain, with your initials engraved into a small charm. You had been looking for it for weeks, afraid that it would be forever missing. You take it into your palms with a featherweight touch, fearful that it would break despite how strong the material was. “You left it at my house.”
Robin studies the smile on your face. She notices the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, the child-like and innocent glistening in your eyes as you lock the bracelet into place. “I think you should tell him, Y/N.” You open your mouth, interrupted as Robin continues quickly. “If he does reject you, so what? At least you tried! He’s an absolute dingus if he does, by the way. But I have this - this thought that he feels the same. It’s like he hasn’t realized it yet, but it’s there.” She places her hand over her heart, words sincere and sweet.
Maybe Steve was lost, too. Not yet found. Not gone. Just lost.
The abyss in your heart doesn’t feel as deep and dark anymore. So, you look up at Robin, eyes brimming with fulfilled tears.
“Thank you.” You stand up to wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. She pats your wrist, eyelashes fluttering against her freckled cheeks.
“And if anything, you could always date me.” She jokes, playfully pushing your hand away as you go to help another customer.
Her advice did give you some peace of mind.
But honestly? The fear and the doubts, and the overwhelming emotions hadn’t really downsized at all.
Your heart still aches for Steve Harrington.
You feel it most at night, laying in your bed. When you’re wide awake, mind buzzing with thoughts: thinking of him.
You feel it more when you wake up from a dream. But the dream is one of those kinds, where everything feels realistic and authentic. Nothing could feel better than that.
Yet you feel it even more when you realize that dream, was simply just a dream - nothing more - and Steve never loved you like that in reality.
Nothing felt lonelier than the profound hole that dwelled in your chest.
Your own imagination can kill you, sometimes.
“Harrington!” Robin hoots as your charming friend walks into the shop. You blush when you recognize that he’s wearing the windbreaker you had given him for Christmas - red and white and all ‘Valentinesy.’
“Buckley! Y/L/N!” He grins, fist-bumping Robin before he makes his way over to you. You rest your forearms on the counter, leaning over the register to meet his gaze. That’s when you notice he has something behind his back, and he whips it out quickly when he realizes you’ve seen it. “For you, pretty girl.”
Roses.
But weren’t roses outdated?
Despite the lingering memory of Steve mentioning something about no longer liking roses, you take the small bouquet with a cheerful smile, thanking Steve as you place them in the empty vase behind you. “They’re gorgeous. So sweet, Steve Harrington.”
Maybe he wasn’t going on that date tonight.
“Yeah, I wanted to get you a little something before I stopped by.” He glances around, over your shoulder and into the back room. He lowers his voice, brows raised. “Did you save me the flowers?”
Oh. That’s what he wanted.
That’s why he came.
Not for you.
But for Jennifer.
“Uh, yeah.” You lock eyes with Robin, who waves goodbye to you supportively. “They’re in the back. C’mon, lemme show you.” Steve follows you, grinning widely like a child on Christmas. He’s humming a song under his breath, and you’re glad that he’s happy. But at your expense. “You better be glad that I was able to save these for you.” You pass him the handmade bouquet, filled with the vibrant, gorgeous blue of Forget-Me-Nots. “They’re not in season anymore.”
He pulls you into a side-hug, one hand clutching the root of the bouquet while the other touched your back. “Thank you. Thank you.” You step away, crossing your arms against your chest as you shush him. “I’m serious. I’m happy you did this for me. And I know that it must’ve been a hassle for you, so let me make it up to you. Tomorrow? I’ll take you to that cool garden tourist place thingy that just opened up.”
“For sure. I can’t wait.”
Is that all your friendship was anymore?
A returning of favors? Oweing one another? Paying what was due? Bullshit.
“Anyways,” You start, rubbing your palms together. “Are you excited?”
“For the date? Hell, yeah.” He bobs his head, leaning against one of the metal racks with shoes crossed. “Like c’mon, how long has it been since I’ve been on one of those? Hope I can keep her interested long enough.”
You wouldn’t need to talk and I’d still be interested in you.
“You’ll be fine, Steve.” You reach over his shoulder, fixing one of the potted plants. “You’re a charmer. I’m sure you’ve already got her wrapped around your finger.” You wink teasingly, placing your hands lightly on the sides of his neck.
You’ve got me wrapped around your finger.
Steve kisses the side of your head, a gesture that you had always been accustomed to throughout your friendship. “Thanks for being there. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I’ll always be there for you, Harrington.
“Yeah! Call me! I wanna know how the date goes,” You chuckle, a hint of sadness lingers in your eyes, but Steve doesn’t notice. He bids you farewell with another embrace, squeezing you tightly.
Maybe he could hear finally your heart crying out to him.
Briefly, you shift forward to go after Steve, hand barely raising from resting on your thigh. But you don’t go after him. It wouldn’t be right.
How do you kill a feeling?
Steve was just your best friend. That’s all that it was. It must be better this way.
Once the day ends, you drive home.
The gloom loitering around the sky and greying clouds adds onto your sadness. You feel lonely. You are lonely. What do you call that numbing pain in your chest when you’re in too deep for someone? Was there even a word to describe that?
Your parents’ house is quiet - left home alone from being on a business trip.
Hell, maybe even your own parents were forgetting about you.
You’re sitting in the living room, surfing through channels aimlessly on the television. Valentine’s Day has never felt any worse. You’re cozied up on your couch, blankets wrapped around your body as the fireplace crackles softly in the background. You snack on a tub of ice cream, smacking your lips at the taste of chocolate.
It still tasted bitter.
You’re watching one of those old romance movies from the 60s, eyes blinking widely as you bite onto your spoon.
You feel tears well up in your vision as the two actors on screen kiss, lips pushing together passionately as their hands roam each other’s bodies. You sniffle, pulling the spoon out of your mouth, dumping it into the empty container in your lap.
You’re a sobbing mess by the time the movie ends; your head hurts and your body feels overwhelmed with unforeseen exhaustion.
You close your eyes.
Darkness.
-
You jump from the couch when you hear a loud, persistent knock at the front door. Rain pours heavily outside as it nears midnight. You groan, shutting off all the lights to go sleep upstairs.
But the knocking at the door doesn’t stop. The windows shake with fear as wind begins to pick up strength. You carefully step down the staircase, cautious as you unlock the front door.
“Steve?” You breathe out.
It’s like the oxygen has left your lungs as soon as you look over the state of your best friend.
His jacket is drenched, thick hair sticking to his face as he squints through the night. Shivering from the frigid weather, his lips turn to a disconcerting shade of blue. 
He’s crying.
You can clearly see shades of red blooming around his eyes through the pouring rain. He struggles to stay upright, and you usher him inside immediately. He can barely get any words out, breathing heavily.
“Steve, what... oh, my gosh.” You wrap yourself around him, pulling him under your arm as you take him to sit by the fireplace. You’re peeling his jacket off of his arms, flinging the wet material aside before you re-light the fire. No words are exchanged between the two of you, mostly a few gasps and concerned gazes from your end. You’re tugging Steve’s shirt off of his body, throwing it into the pile of his other ruined clothes. You take the blanket from the couch, dabbing at his cold skin and wrapping it around him. You pull him into your lap when you sit down, unsure of where to start. “What happened?” You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp as you let your other hand rub at his forearm. “Steve? Are you okay?”
He lets out a strangled sob, bringing a hand up to hide his face. Steve trembles against your body, burying his nose onto your warm thigh.
The rain patters harshly against the house - and now you know why.
The angels were crying with him.
“Shh... it’s okay. I’m here.” You soothe him, fingers dancing across his spine. You lean down to plant a kiss onto the freckle on his bare shoulder, closing your eyes. “Let it out, Steve. Let it all go.”
You feel for him.
A teardrop rolls down your cheek, melting into Steve’s skin. He’s clawing at your shirt as he moves to sit up higher, trying to bring himself as close to you as possible. You don’t say anything as he embraces you with a bone-crushing touch, tightening around your ribs.
“She didn’t like me.” He cries through a small, hoarse voice.
“Oh, Steve.”
His hair is dripping wet, drops dampening your shirt. It’s messy. You’ve never seen anything like this - not from Steve, anyways. 
Snot pools around his nose, sticking to the ends of your hair along with his saliva. His nails dig deeply into your sides, holding onto you for dear life. Your lips lightly press against his forehead, lingering there as you wait patiently for him to continue. 
You start to feel his body warm up from the heat of the fireplace. He no longer trembles as much, but his hands still remain clenched tightly around the fabric of your shirt. You can feel the soreness in your legs from how heavy he is, but you push through - enduring it for Steve.
“She, uh,” Steve looks at you. His cheeks are stained with tears. A sight that breaks your heart. “She called me stupid. And - and she said I wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t even that cute to begin with.” You push the hair away from his eyes. “She said that she went to high school with us... and that this - that whole date was just a way for her to get back at me. I don’t remember what I did, Y/N. How can I not remember what I did?”
Steve sobs again, hyperventilating into your chest. “Breathe. It’s alright.” You coo, resting your forehead against his. “Steve, that was high school. We all were - were different people back then. Whatever happened with Jennifer during that time should’ve been forgiven.”
“I was an asshole, Y/N.”
“Yeah, then.” You huff, still embracing him. You raise your brows, the fire illuminates your face as you continue to speak. “At some point, we have to let go of the past, I guess. People can be unforgiving, Steve. And if Jennifer is one of those people, then forget about her, you know? There’s always room to change or make mistakes.” You try your best to console him. “You’re different now, Steve. She shouldn’t be messing with you like that. No one should.”
He stares blankly at your lips, before his brown eyes flicker up to meet yours. 
“What if nobody really likes me?”
The question strikes a dark place in your heart. And you have to glance away to keep tears in.
“Y/N, what if - what if I’m destined to be alone and nobody will ever love me as much as I love them?” Silent tears roll down his face as he loosens his grip on you. “What if you don’t even like me?”
“Don’t you dare say that.”
“Y/N, why the fuck do you still like me? I’m - I’m horrible.”
If only he knew.
“Steve, you’re my favorite, favorite thing.” You shake your head at him, bewildered that he would think like that. “You make me feel so safe. And complete. You’re my best friend. I couldn’t live in a universe without you.”
He starts with a scoff, and you’re terrified of what he says next. “But I want - I need someone who will love me, eventually. Someone who can give as much as I do.”
Ouch.
You remain quiet. How can you help Steve when you feel the same? Only, the feelings were directed towards him?
Steve wipes his nose, pulling away from you. He chuckles. “Do you believe in soulmates?”
You chuckle too, but sadly. “I like the idea. I believe there’s someone for everyone. Someone who’ll love you despite anything.”
It’s me. I’m that someone.
“Do you think we all have soulmates? A person for each of us?”
“I do. I really do.” You turn your head away from him, staring into the crackling fire.
“Maybe some of us don’t get a soulmate. Kinda like - like natural selection.” He shrugs, fingers picking at the thread of your carpet. “Maybe some of us don’t get to - to, I don’t know, experience being loved.”
“But sometimes it’s not about being loved by someone else.”
A soft, barely visible smile lingers on Steve’s face.
“Hey, I’ve never asked you this. Not in a while, at least.” You hum in reply. “Do you like anyone?”
“Right now?” He nods. You let out a small exhale through your nostrils, scoffing. “Yeah. I like this - this guy a lot.” 
“Does he like you back?”
Steve doesn’t ask who it is. 
Maybe he knew. 
“I don’t think he does, Steve.” You caress your own jaw, finding comfort within yourself. You feel Steve’s eyes on you, and you suddenly feel extremely vulnerable as you decide to look back at him. “I’ve never asked him if he does. I don’t - I don’t wanna ruin what I have with him. I think that... I’d rather suffer myself than... than lose him, you know?”
“You should tell him.” You close your eyes, turning away from him with a sad frown. “Listen. Anyone would be lucky to have you, Y/N.”
“Steve...” Your eyes are pleading, scouring his face in hopes that he’d realize. “Steve.” His eyes begin to widen when he hears the shattering crack in your voice. You don’t fail to notice how he moves his hand slightly away from you.
He knows that look anywhere. It’s the look that Robin gave him when she admitted her feelings for Tammy Thompson. It’s the look you give someone when you say something a little too scary and painful.
“No...” He laughs. You start to cry, clutching your hands to your chest as you scoot further away from him. His face falls when he watches your drops of tears plummet to the ground. “Me?”
His voice is almost condescending.
“I-I... Steve, I-“
“Y/N. We’re - I can’t do this.” He stands, nearly losing his balance. You don’t follow him, leaning against the couch as you bring your knees to your chest.
“This is what I was afraid of. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You ram your fists to the sides of your head. Your cries are distressed, echoing throughout the house.
The abyss in your heart has enveloped you. You feel sucked in, screaming for help as you’re dragged into the darkness.
Heartbreak.
Was it too late to un-love someone?
Steve paces around the living room, hands on his hips as his red eyes dart around the room.
“I get it, if you don’t feel the same way. We’re supposed to be best friends.”
“Y/N, I don’t - I don’t-“
“I know.” You whisper huskily, leaning into the couch. You don’t look at him.
“I think I should go.” He says shakily. He pinches at the skin in between his eyebrows, stuttering over his words as he puts on his shirt and jacket, still soaked from the rain. “Thank you. For the, uh... for the help.” You don’t reply. Steve sees the broken shell of his best friend. And yet, he’s too shocked and selfish to fix her. “I’m... I’ll see you around, Y/L/N.”
“Okay.”
And he leaves. Not once looking back at you or to ask if you would be alright. You lay there, head resting on the couch cushions as the fire hums a heart-wrenching ballad. You can’t breathe.
You walk with wobbly legs up the stairs, taking deep, uneven breaths as you open your bedroom door.
Your room feels wrong. And your bones shift in your skin as you throw the covers off of your bed, angrily stripping them away from your mattress and letting them parachute onto the floor.
You are the abyss.
It no longer resides in your heart.
But inside and around you, floating through your veins.
-
Your eyes are grey with color as the answering machine beeps with another useless message.
‘Hey, Y/N. It’s Robin. I haven’t seen you in like a month, how are you? Uhm, I wanted to call and see if you were doing okay. Yeah. So, if - when you aren’t busy, call me back. Please? Thanks. Love you.’
Beep.
‘Y/N! This is Dustin. Dustin Henderson. Steve’s friend. Yeah, okay, hi. Ow!’ You hear a rustle on the other end of the line. ‘Anyways, we - I was wondering if you wanted to come to the movies sometime with me and Robin... and uh, Steve. Hope to hear from you. Kay. Bye. Dude, you need-‘
Beep.
‘Y/N. Hey, it’s Steve Harrington. It’s Steve. Yeah, uh... call me? I-I... just call me back when you’re free. Right. Take care. Miss you.’
The answering machine no longer blinks red. 
You feel exhausted. Moreover, you look exhausted. Your face is pale, aching to see sunlight. Your nose is runny from a cold, throat starched for water. You haven’t been to your job in weeks, halting the business temporarily until your parents were to come home.
It worries Steve when he tries to drop by the florist shop, finding it empty and pitch black inside. He can see the roses that he gave you on Valentine’s Day, wilting in its porcelain vase. He tugs against the glass door, sighing when he finds it locked. Obviously, he could hear you say. He reads the handwritten note on the window:
‘Closed. Flowers are not available for sale. Come back another time.’
Steve knew you had to be at home - hurt and healing
He runs into Robin as he walks hastily to your house, and he sees the angry stare that his friend sends him from the end of the sidewalk.
“What the hell are you doing here, dingus?” She snaps, pressing her finger into his sternum.
“I fucked up, Robin. Big time.” He glances at your bedroom window, hoping that you were in there somewhere. “I wanted to apologize to her.”
“Not right now. Go away.” She brushes past him, hitting his shoulder with her own.
He really has fucked up. 
Robin sighs in pity when she glances back at her friend, relaxing when she sees the genuine defeat on Steve’s face. “You can’t just waltz in there and apologize. She’s hurting, Steve.”
“I know. I feel horrible.”
“She’s in love with you.” Robin admits. She feels a bit bad for saying it to him, when you should really be saying it - but she’d do anything to save you from feeling any more pain. “I’ve seen her through her best... her worst days - and yet it all comes down to you. Oh, Steve did this for me. Steve did that.” She mocks, tilting her head from side to side as her lips twitch upwards. “She’s your best friend. And she loves you more than anything. What more could you possibly want than that?”
Steve chews on his bottom lip anxiously, hands feeling around in the pockets of his jacket.
“She isn’t expecting you to love her back, Harrington. If that’s what scares you.” Robin places a friendly hand on his shoulder. “She just needs to know that you’ll stay. No matter what. And if you do have feelings for her...” She dips her head down, meeting eyes with him. “Then don’t be afraid to tell her. It’s only Y/N.” She turns on her heels, stepping up onto the porch to ring the doorbell. “You should probably go. Figure yourself out first before trying to help her right now.”
He knows she’s right. With slumped shoulders, he drags his feet off of your lawn. He glances back instantly when he hears the quiet hymn of your voice, and sees your face before you shut the door behind Robin. He tries to wave weakly.
But you don’t look at him.
Not this time.
Another two weeks pass by before Steve catches sight of the fluorescent lights in your shop. And he sees a familiar figure working the register.
Without hesitation, Steve swerves onto the emergency lane, tires screeching as he pulls to an illegal stop. He nearly gets run over by a speeding car, but the adrenaline is too much for him to care about anything else right now. He sprints past the road, bumping into a few strangers as he swings open the shop’s door.
“Y/N.” He pants out. His hair is wind-swept, brown curls falling against his face. “Hi.”
You look up from the register, knocking over a cup of pens when you recognize the handsome face. “Steve.”
He rushes over to help you, attempting to pick up the fallen supplies. But you’re quick with your movements, scooping all the pens back into their designated cup by the counter before Steve can help you. He then sees the dirty handprints on your unwashed green apron, realizing that you had only just gotten back from your break. 
“Hi, again. It’s, uh, it’s me.” He scratches the back of his neck nervously, adjusting the collar of his shirt when he feels it fit too tightly around his neck. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he crosses his arms against his chest, trying to seem as casual as possible. You’re giving him a weird look, but he can just make out the anxiousness in your pupils. “I wanted to... say sorry. I panicked that night. When-when...”
“When I told you how I felt.” You finish, running your hands up and down your jeans. 
You both are lumps of awkwardness, unsure of where to look and what to do with your bodies. You mimic Steve, holding your arms against your ribs as you lean onto a table.
Steve’s just glad you’re actually talking to him after all those weeks. It seems like he’s just met you again: the awkward fidgeting, the ramblings, the way his hands shook after speaking to you - it felt exactly like the day you met.
He remembers it all too vividly.
“Is that all?” You ask, putting your hair up and away from your view. Steve doesn’t hear forgiveness in your tone. He should’ve known it wouldn’t have been that easy, that fast.
“No,” He says. He taps at his bottom lip, before wagging a finger at you. “You don’t happen to have more Forget-Me-Nots, do you?”
Steve visibly cringes when he hears the dramatic scoff you give him. “Yeah. I do. They’re in the back. Why?”
“No reason.”
“Did Jennifer make amends with you?” You question uneasily, stepping into the other room to grab the flowers for him.
“No, not her. They’re for something else.” He shrugs as a matter-of-factly. “Here. I’ll pay for them?”
“Take them. It’s fine. I don’t have a use for them anymore, anyways.”
But they‘re your favorites.
Unless they aren’t anymore?
“Of course. Uh, I’ll - I’ll catch up with you soon.” He looks down at the precious potted flowers, holding them delicately with his two hands.
He makes a beeline for the exit, before he hears you call out to him reluctantly.
“And Steve?” He turns, eyes blinking with interest in what you have to say. “Take care.” He grins. “Of the flowers.”
Okay, damn. So much for forgiveness.
“I always do.” He shrugs with one shoulder, flashing a lopsided smile. He hesitates to open the door for a second, but he does, running across the busy road with the pot of Forget-Me-Nots.
He’s going to make it up to you.
-
March.
It’s a cold morning in March when Steve finally gets himself together. He sits on the ledge of his bedroom window, eyes trained on the well-cared for pot of Forget-Me-Nots placed in front of him. They bloom gorgeously; seemingly, they are the only pop of color that remains in Steve’s messy room. He smiles, eyes crinkling with peaceful nostalgia when he glances down at the wrinkled piece of paper in his hands. He reads over the words, whispering them to himself as he tries to get them right.
It’s the longest he’s ever gone without seeing you. His feelings, as usual, are a jumbled mess of emotions. But he knows, that with due time, if he were to love you - more than a best friend - then it surely would be destined to happen. 
He looks back into his room and away from the window. The wall across his bed is plastered with pictures, the majority of them are of you and him together. From the beginning of middle school, to freshman year in high school, to junior prom, to graduation - you’ve been there for him through everything. Every milestone, every heartbreak, every achievement and every breaking point. 
Steve can’t help but ask himself if he’s been there for you through thick and thin as well. He wonders: has he been looking down all the wrong roads this entire time? Was he not giving as much as he took from you?
Holding onto the worn piece of paper, he folds and stuffs it in the back pocket of his jeans before he takes the pot of flowers carefully into his grasp. 
Steve drives in his car, beating every stoplight and doing almost every illegal thing a driver could do. He sighs in relief when he sees that your curtains are drawn, along with your open bedroom window. 
Classic move. 
He parks his car recklessly on your lawn, definitely ruining the freshly watered grass with his muddy tires. Memorized like the palm of his hand, he climbs up your roof, being cautious not to step on the loose tiles that led to your window whilst balancing the Forget-Me-Nots under his arm. He’s out of breath when he finally gets up. He sees you through your window, nose buried in a book - unaware of his abrupt arrival. Steve crouches, tapping on the glass with his fist. 
Your head snaps up. Glancing around your room, you sigh as you stand up. Steve helps you raise the window lift, grinning boyishly when it stays upright. There’s a glow in his eyes that you can’t place. Steve knows that you won’t let him in, so he takes a seat on the flat surface of your roof, placing the pot of Forget-Me-Nots on the window stool that separates the two of you.
“What are you doing here?” You ask. Steve recognizes the bump in your voice - the genuine curiosity, free of malicious intent. “You can’t be here, Steve. My parents... they-”
“I won’t waste your time. But I do need you to hear me out. You can’t say anything, alright?”
“Steve, what-” You shake your head in confusion, but Steve shushes you, motioning you to sit down as well. And you do. The flowers block part of Steve’s face, but you don’t care to move it - wanting to hear what he has to say.
“I’m gonna read you something that I found in my room.” You lean forward, placing your chin in the palm of your hand with sincere regard. “It’s a note. From you to me. In eight grade.”
A year after we first met. 
Your face softens. Because you know exactly what this note contains. Steve clears his throat as he takes out the note from his pocket, smoothing down the rips and the wrinkles. The ink is smudged, messy and hurried but there is something genuine laced within those words. 
‘Dear Steve, 
You are truly one of the dumbest people I’ve met. So dumb, that you can’t realize that I literally have the biggest crush on you in the world. I like you. More than I like chocolate ice cream and more than I like move night. I could spend forever with you - that is until you make me just as insane as you. I’d donate my own braincells for you. I think I might love you. What even is love? You are too cool to be my friend. Too cool to be my partner in crime. And definitely too cool to be my Anyways, I’m writing this because I have too many feelings right now. Maybe it’s just hormones. Maybe it’s one of those things. But just know, that I’ll be here for you - no matter what - despite the teasing, or the dorky jokes, or the number of bad movies you always make me watch. I’m here. And I love you.
(Like a friend, of course)
Your best friend, Y/N.
By the time Steve has finished reading, his eyes are watery. He chuckles at himself, glancing at the paper one last time before he folds it neatly back into place. “I found it in my backpack.” He briefly waves it in the air. “I... you must’ve mixed my backpack up with yours because-”
“Because we had matching backpacks.” You smile sentimentally. “And everyone thought we were - were complete nerds for matching.” 
“Yeah, they did.” He passes the letter to you, but his hands envelop yours when you attempt to take it. His fingers draw shapes on your skin, and he pulls your hands closer to him. “Letters are meant to be read, Y/N. And not only that, letters are meant to be answered.” He pauses, “And years later, I finally have an answer to that letter.”
“If this is you feeling - feeling pitiful towards me, for what I said...”
“It’s not. This is how I really feel. I’m doing this because... because I’m not lost. Not anymore.” He tightens his hold. “Y/N. You are truly one of the most unique, smartest and loving people I’ve met.” He chuckles, feeling his throat tighten at his words. “I never - I was selfish for never realizing how much you care for me. Not just as a best friend, but more. And yeah, it took me forever to - to realize that, but I was scared. Part of me has always had a crush on you. And what you told me on Valentine’s just - it shocked me. Because I was never looking for love in the right places. Love was in front of me, all along. She was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, watching terrible movies at the drive-ins, and wearing matching backpacks with me. I didn’t see it because I was too busy trying to see you as my best friend, rather than - rather than a soulmate. I’ve always loved you, Y/N. We grew up together. And you helped make me who I am.”
You can only look at Steve with doting yet astonished eyes.
The abyss in your heart...
It was finally releasing you.
“Steve, you-”
He holds a hand up, clicking his tongue. “I’m not done.” You nod for him to continue you, placing your other hand over his. “I remember the story behind Forget-Me-Nots. How it’s always had a special place in your heart.” He lets go of your hands, reaching for the flowers instead. He examines it, before he looks up to you with a grin. “A man saw beautiful blue flowers growing on this - this weird plant. And so, he jumped into water to get the blue flowers for his love. Although the current was strong, the man crossed the river safely and got the flowers. But on his way back, he was taken away in the water. Yet before he disappeared, he threw the bouquet of forget-me-nots to his love. She wore these flowers on her hair until the day she died and never forgot about him.” He takes a deep breath, before handing the flowers to you. “Every time I looked at these flowers, I-I thought of you. And I kept them alive. Isn’t that crazy? They’re still alive.”
Your lips pull into a shy smile as you duck your head to smell the flowers. “You’re unforgettable, Y/N.” He reaches over, caressing your cheek. You sigh into his touch, letting your eyes flutter shut against your skin. “I want you to remember that I’ve always loved you. It just took me a little while because well... I’m an idiot.”
“You are!” You laugh, giggling into his hand. He leans into your room, pressing an innocent kiss to the top of your head. His lips stay there, and he smiles into your hair. “Steve?”
“Y/N?”
“I love you.” 
“I love you, too.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Let’s stay like this forever. I wanna remember this. I want you to remember this.”
“I would never forget it, Steve.”
Unforgettable.
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