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#them mostly. i mean partly for us but mostly for them. none of us even cried. ay but we have 2 more parties in her honor

angelwonie · 1 year

Text

X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well.

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth.

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse.

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you.

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying.

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you.

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours?

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably.

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead.

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless.

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair.

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying.

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.”

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment.

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone.

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him.

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side.

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep.

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.)

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you.

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?”

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat.

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they?

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows.

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though.

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.”

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now.

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over.

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face.

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices.

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow.

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good.

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.”

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams.

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree.

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you.

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think.

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement.

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die.

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too.

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?”

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.”

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave?

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now.

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly.

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair.

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today.

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something.

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike.

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming.

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that.

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t.

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first.

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed.

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain.

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him.

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment.

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it.

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book.

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand.

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know.

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables.

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter.

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation.

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity.

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked.

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself.

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too.

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him.

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight.

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit.

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.”

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day?

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him.

Finally, he smiles at you.

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it.

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest.

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left.

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement.

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too.

In some ways, it stayed normal.

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath.

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly.

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you.

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you.

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened.

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow.

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?��

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back.

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.”

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze.

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly?

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often.

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now.

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?”

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable.

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours.

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly.

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too.

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath.

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart.

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was.

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss.

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches.

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love.

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you.

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students.

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him.

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing.

“Sure about what, Woo?”

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back.

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension.

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain.

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content.

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan.

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy.

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed.

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile.

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk.

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes.

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor.

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach.

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance.

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest.

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out.

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?”

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder.

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy.

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock.

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt.

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing.

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit.

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit.

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming.

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven.

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out.

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true.

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now.

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free.

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t.

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class.

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader

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knight-a3 · 8 days

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So Transformers is a thing I like. Mostly "Transformers Animated". Because TFA Blitzwing is my favorite. I've got a backlog of stuff I've been meaning to share but just never got around to.

Like others, I have speculated what he must've been like before he became a triple changer. My current headcanon is that he was similar to G1 in appearance. His face is white, and is shaped like if Icy wore Hothead's visor. And his personality is a mix between all three of his faces. He's rambunctious and loud, but surprisingly strategic in and capable in battle, but also has a relatively short temper.

More about my Blizwing headcanons under the cut.

Becoming a triple changer basically ripped those aspects of his personality apart, and each one became an extreme version of those traits. To have any semblance of his original personality would require rapid shifting between the faces, but that's disorienting for everyone while also not really succeeding.

Blitzwing does not have DID(Disassociative Identity Disorder), nor a fictional variant of it. The faces are not different characters, and none of them are the "original" face. And they are all equally intelligent and aware(meaning Hothead isn't dumb and Random is not a innocent baby). The main difference is how each face makes decisions and expresses himself. They are all the same Blitzwing, each face just represents an isolated aspect of his original personality, and the jarring mood shift between them.

Icy, Random, and Hothead are not their names. They're just labels to clarify what behavior set is being referred to. He'll get upset if he's referred to them as if they're his name. As he said in the first episode, "The name's Blitzwing!" Using them as a suffix is acceptable (ie "Icy Blitzwing" is calm and calculated), but just barely; it's a reminder of how fractured his mind has become.

Despite the everyday struggles, each face has its benefits.

Icy is strategic, observant, and calculating. Hothead is powerful, resilient, and persistent. Random is versatile, quick-witted, unpredictable, and adaptable.

On the downside, Hothead and Random are prone to brash decisions. Hothead is easily provoked, and Random is easily distracted and is distracting. Icy lacks passion or ambition and is overall subdued.

Overall, Icy is the most stable of the three. And is the most tolerable for the other Decepticons to deal with(more tolerable than his original personality, even). Blitzwing used to switch between the faces more wildly and leaving him more disoriented. So he had to train himself to switch smoothly and default to Icy(partly so he doesn't piss off Megatron too much).

And as a final note! He was best buddies with Astrotrain. But things ended tragically. I don't have details set in stone, but I have a few ideas I'll throw out later.

#transformers #tfa blitzwing #transformers animated #blitzwing #fanart #traditional art #a3 art #headcanons #sketches

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monsterunderthesheets · 1 year

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TABLE FOR ONE... OR THREE

a litte Vash x Fem! reader fic I made while I was in the middle of waiting tables as work. got a little baby fever for Vash so please treat this fic with care.

!!TW!! mentions of Pregnancy!

Soft drops of rain and a barely noticeable background music were the only ones accompanying you as you continue to polish highball glasses and coffee mugs. It was an awfully bleak and uneventful week at the Café yet it was not a problem for you in the slightest. In fact, it was a godsent chance for you to be left with your own thoughts and enjoy the peaceful solitude of it all. What’s even better is that you’d only have an hour left till you flip the sign closed. These past few days, the rain hasn’t stopped since the day before. According to the recent broadcast, this weather will continue till about next week which to you was all the better for a news because with it, means less customers to deal with, in turn, less work on your plate. Just the thought of a relaxing week made you heave a small sight of contentment and unconsciously pulled your shawl better up your shoulders.

The door to the café chimes open, indicating a customer had arrived. Your shoulders slumped a bit but you quickly set them square again and wore your best smile. ‘I guess one more customer won’t hurt.’ You inwardly thought.

“good evening! How may I help-“

For a moment, you felt your hearth leap to your throat and your fingers ran cold.

Just standing by the door way, stood a tall man clad in red, with a mop of golden locks atop his head. You know that face all too well. The face that you promised yourself you'd smack when you see it.

" uh..." the man hesitated, already sensing your white-hot rage from across the room "t-table for one please?"

It took only but a few wide strides to get to him, not wasting time and threw the first hand you were able to followed by another one and then another with quick succession. None of which ever connected to their target, of course, you knew how good he was with dodging any forms of danger. The thought just flew over your head at that moment. You did promise to hit him but you never said you'd be confident enough to land a single one on him. All you could do was scream, - partly because of humiliation and the other in great loathing-

"the FUCKING AUDACITY you have to show up here again with that stupid smile on your face you FUCKING bastard!"

Vash cough both of your wrists mostly to keep you from doing more harm to yourself than it would on him. Still not satisfied, you resort to kick his shins but that too, was swiftly avoided. (God knows how he managed to) Eventually, Vash had to restrain you by incasing you in an embrace. "I missed you too, Mayfly." he sighed.

"shut the fuck up and let me go, you asshole" you hissed and a bit out of breath. You hate to admit it but you missed his scent, the faint smell of a rainy musky undertone with a hint of... Iron?

Vash notices and pulled you back to check on you but before he could comment on it, you shoved him off of you and fixed your shawl back on your small form. You used to love how quick he was to notice the smallest discomforts you might have but right now, all you ever felt was hate. You knew what you were signing up for but you couldn't just forgive him for what he did to you a few months ago; disappearing on you in that state without even leaving a simple goodbye note. That particular day still hurt like a fresh bullet wound to you.

"what are you doing back here?"

"I happen to be close by so I thought I'd pay a visit." he sheepishly laughed, completely ignoring the fact you were so close to breaking his bones. You scoffed at his pathetic excuse and waved him off.

"well then, hi, and goodbye." you turned to return to the bar counter to start hanging up the closed sign. "Now get out of my sight before I plant some bullets in your head." you warned.

"Hey now, come on Mayfly-look, I'm sorry, okay? But I really need a -ACK! " Vash hissed in pain, and you immediately stopped in your tracks. You turned back to look at him and hurriedly yanked his red jacket. On his side were two fresh wounds, one a clean shot through the side and the other a deep graze. You also found another wound, possibly made by a sharp object, on his chest. You spew a string of curses under your breath as you dragged Vash into the back in a panicked pace while Vash let out is own string of “ow's” in the process. He knew you were such a worry wart so he made another pathetic attempt to lighten up the mood; “Please handle me with care, doc.-" "shut up Stamped!" you hissed. You know you do hate him but it's not at all in your nature to wish death upon others. Especially not to Vash. He obliged after you snapped at him, but with the way you behaved, Vash wondered what the new change of demeanor was all about. Maybe it was because he left you all of a sudden when he promised you he'd stay? In his defense, he genuinely did. But with a bounty on his head and a reputation for hunters constantly nipping at his ankles, he can't risk getting you involved. But the way you’re acting right now is too different, like you changed so much in over just a few months. You seemed snappier than usual, maybe a bit hotter headed than normal. And this kind of worried him a bit. Has his absence really did that much damage to you?

You both spent the entire time in awkward silence but Vash decided to speak up after getting patched up. Specifically addressing the slight change of personality as of late. But you were too eager to not talk about it and tried to literally avoid the subject by abruptly getting up from your seat. Big mistake. The sudden motion caused you to be light-headed and lost your balance, luckily, Vash had always been quick on his feet and caught you before you hit yourself on something.

Your pride still getting the better of you, you shoved him away, not wanting to be touched by him any more than he already had. This caused your shawl to get caught on his mechanical arm, yanking it off from your shoulders. Vash froze in place. Realizing the turn of events, you couldn’t do much else other than avoiding eye contact.

You held your belly in a pathetic attempt to hide the little bump you’re carrying.

"how... How old is it?" Vash squeaked; eyes glued on your belly.

"... A couple of months." you answered reluctantly. He was too silent after that. You didn't know what was going on in his head. Not when you can't see his face. Slowly, you raised your gaze to meet his but as you did, all you saw was... Pain? You weren't sure anymore but you could have sworn you saw it, just a tiny glimpse and it was gone, replaced by a congratulatory smile that was obviously forced out. Something Vash had been so bad at doing since forever that the sight of it made your chest ache.

"My God, congrats Y/N! Your husband sure is a lucky guy!“ Vash stepped back, his hand finding it's way to the nape of his neck. His voice broke on the last word, a sure tell-tale sign that he was fighting back tears. But he was adamant to bury his heart in hopes that he wouldn't seem upset and an asshole for being bitter about an occasion where people are supposed to celebrate and welcome a new life. He forced out a laugh and added "Have... have you decided on a name ye-OW?!" you interrupted him with a boot finally connecting to his shin, causing him to double down

"god dammit Vash, were you really that drunk that night? IT'S YOURS, YOU STUPID PLANT!"

Your face was flushed red with annoyance, tears threatening to roll down from your face. After all, it was the truth. It was why you were seething with hate when he left you. As a plant he told you that there was no way he could reproduce with a human; That it would take an impossible miracle for a plant and a human to conceive a child.

It wouldn't have been a problem for you when he left, but when you found out you were with child, you felt betrayed. That you were taken advantage of and used. That was why you made a promise to yourself to forget about the man that you thought had loved you and commit to you with no strings attached. That you would raise this child without mentioning a single word about the bastard that left you. But Vash is here. He is in front of you, and within the deepest depths of your core, you have the smallest hoped that he would stay this time. You wouldn’t force him if he doesn’t want the baby… it would hurt you, sure, but he’s the humanoid typhoon, he should always be on the run. What other choice do you have?

For what felt like forever, Vash had barely spoken a word since you broke the news to him. You were dying to know what was in his mind, spare yourself the agony of forever wondering what he was thinking.

“then…” it was barely a whisper but you managed to catch on it and looked up to him.

“then… can I?” he continued, hand slowly raising to touch your belly. You hesitated, but eventually dropped the arm you were using to block your belly. Vash took this as granting him permission and slowly knelt before you; eye-level with the baby inside. His touch was feather-like, as if he’d break you and the child if held both of you the wrong way. His palms were warm and you swore, if you held your breath long enough, you could catch his hand trembling very faintly. He took a deep breath and placed his forehead gently on your belly.

Just before you could ask what he was doing, you felt a faint flow of a peculiar sensation within you. It wasn’t anything you had felt before but it wasn’t anything akin to pain either. Just calm…or at peace? Definitely something you cannot describe in words. Then you witnessed something you’ve never seen happen to Vash even for as long as you’ve known him and his true being.

Before you, Vash’s skin was etched with a soft blue glow of what looked like the same markings that plants would have. From his forehead to his cheeks and jaw, down to his chin and neck. Soon, the same markings are present on your stomach even strangely so, you can see a silhouette of a child floating inside your womb, as if you became a transparent vessel for the child you carry. It too adorned the same markings as him. The whole site was beyond beautiful -ethereal even- that it could possibly haunt your dreams or even for the rest of your waking days. Yet despite the barrage of overwhelming emotions, all you could think about is how you felt nothing but relief and gratefulness.

Seeing the baby’s response to its father’s greeting Vash choked down the forming lump in his throat, tears welling in the corners of his eyes, his smile a mix of fear and hope. Vash’s voice managed to croak out only but a few words:

“hey there, little guy.”

-END-

#vash x reader #vash the stampede #Trigunstampede #babyfever and Vash #baby fever #Vash #Trigun stampere fanfic

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daichiduskdrop · 8 months

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 28

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: none!

Words: 3370

Taglist:@thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae

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You and the pack members spend some time in the meeting room for sure, with the alphas carefully discussing all of the details about the filming.

While they have gone to similar locations before, this time the filming would be held in a completely different space, which required a bit of information for sure.

The manager, Sejin, showed them all a few photos of the place, mostly overlooks of the spot where you would all (hopefully) be staying.

The photo, taken presumably via a drone, showed a beautiful, healthy-looking forest surrounding a large, modern villa.

There were many things around the area, including a very well-kept tea garden and a large wooden pier leading to water. You weren't sure if it was the ocean or a lake, but the water was a nice dark shade of blue and teal.

On another photo, taken from a different view, you could see a part of a beautiful pool, partly hidden inside a building. Was it also indoors?

There was a beautiful patio, and behind the house was a nice view—mountains ripping through the ground, forest, and trees mostly all the way around.

„We won't spoil you everything, but just know it's a similar style or even better than last time. I think you guys will like it. We also decided that you guys could include more activities this time since it's not lockdown anymore.

We have ordered you all a stay at the traditional spa, and one day we will take you there for a few hours. I'll call in later to see if it's okay to bring Y/N too...”

The older man said gently, smiling at you all. Seriously, a spa too? You didn't get to really visit a proper one ever, since it was always sort of classified as a useless expense, so you never went.

But after seeing a few visits to traditional spas online, you wanted to try yourself. Maybe you would enjoy it!

„It looks nice, hyung." Jin murmured, looking over the photo on his phone since they received it through email.

The alpha, just looking at the place for a few glances, felt satisfied. Neither of them would really complain under the given situation; this was treated partly as a vacation for them; therefore, it already had them excited as it is.

But if they would travel with you, to which all the points have been looking so far, it would mean you would have to get settled in the place well.

After all, they would leave to record in a few months, which most likely will mean you will already, hopefully, be settled with the pack, used to their scents and the packhouse.

The pack members weren't sure how well you did with travelling, especially long distance.

Sure, they were planning on taking you to their families some time soon if everything would go well, but that wouldn't mean you might do well in a completely new area.

Since they took you to Hybe this morning, you have been quite timid and unsettled; don't think they didn't notice.

Of course, it was given that it would happen, and the alphas were neither angry nor disappointed with you and understood that it also had to do with the many staff employed.

With all the new scents of people you didn't know, the giant majority of them were alphas and sometimes betas, and that was okay.

But still, would you be okay if you went with them to their homes? How about the new cities? If you would go to visit Hobi's home in Gwangju, that would be the farthest from Seoul and therefore their packhouse.

The scent would naturally be quite different, and it might be difficult for you to adjust in the short time frame. They were hoping to spend a night with their families too; would that go okay?

The eldest alpha knew that any of them would pack right back up and be on their way to the train station if they noticed you were not adjusting well.

Maybe one of the family members wouldn't be nice to you, though Jin hoped that wouldn't happen. Maybe you would just have a bad day overall; the train ride was not smooth and too long for you to sleep through, and you just wouldn't be happy at all.

Or maybe you would miss them too much, the sudden separation too quick and harsh on your small, gentle, and sweet little heart.

You could start crying and just fully drop on them if that would happen, and the alpha was so sure if that would truly happen, though he prayed for it not, they would all gather as quickly as possible.

The alpha felt his thoughts run quickly, thinking about all the possible issues and problems that might occur.

Of course they would take you with them. You seemed to be so excited that it made him want to give anything to you to make you happy again, but still, naturally, he felt some worry.

„Yeah, it's nice. Would you like to go to the spa too, princess?” Gently running his fingers through your hair, Jimin softly smiled at you, his eyes gentle.

Nodding a little bit, you shrugged your shoulders. There was a possibility you wouldn't be able to go at all after all, so what was the point in getting too excited?

„Alphas will take you then, little kitty.” Yoongi whispered to you, pecking the top of your head as a gentle gesture. Rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, the alpha smiled softly at you.

It didn't take much longer for them all to go through the tremendous amount of details—they had to discuss how many hours of footage would be filmed every day, if there would be cameras installed, then where, and go over the staff and security members included in.

The camera team would stay in a smaller cabin, close but still far enough to be out of range to really see, where they would go over the recorded footage and help with any issues if needed.

After Sejin told them about the den room, they could get prepared for them if they wished for it to be in the location too. After having you whisper out a soft 'yes, please', the alphas were quick to get a little worried about any cameras in the area.

The packmembers could imagine you being shy and quiet in front of the cameras, and while they would try their very best to keep you calm and not too worried in front of the seemingly very intimidating devices, you might have a hard time adjusting in such a short while.

It would be only about 14 days after all, and even when they hoped you wouldn't just feel too timid in front of the camera team, they had already started thinking about the possibility you would be.

In such a case, a space for you to just bundle up and rest for a while without any worries or stress for you to endure would be key. They had to have that possibility for you; it was very important.

And therefore, after a short discussion about only the very minimal footage that would be taken in the den, and only if you all agreed and there would be permission to film, Sejin agreed, quickly writing himself a note to make sure to remember.

The packmembers didn't want you to get worried over the fact that your nest—something so visibly and obviously vulnerable to make and keep for omegas—would be shown to, frankly, to millions of strangers.

Soon, the documents have been signed after minor adjustments were made. Taking your hand in his, Jimin gently pulled you from the table, leading you to the doors after discussing a few things with Sejin and the other manager too.

„Come on, my princess, do you want to go home already? Or do you want to stay here for a little while longer?” The alpha asked you softly, both of his hands placed near your temples as he watched you fondly.

„Can w-we go home, please?” You whispered softly. You didn't really like the building too much. You were getting used to it now that you have been here for a longer time, but still, the many, unknown people passing by and giving you odd glances got to you a little.

Pecking your forehead gently, Jimin pulled you to himself for a few moments. „I'm sorry, my sweet precious baby, but alphas will have to stay in for a little while longer. I have to go to a dance practice, princess, but Taehyungie can take you home. How about that?”

Gently telling you, the older man watched how a small, obviously dissatisfied frown settled on your face. Giggling to himself, the alpha pecked the small scrunch formed between your eyebrows, smiling widely.

„O-okay, oppa...” You whispered, hoping to go home with all of them, but it was okay. They would get home eventually. When did you start calling the packhouse your home anyway?

Hugging you close to himself, Jimin let his soft scent linger on you. He was gentle and caring as he said his sweet goodbyes.

The other packmembers soon also left, a mingle of: „Stay close to Hyung Little Bunbun; Alpha will see you soon.; „Be a good little kitten for alpha."; „We will be home soon, Sunny-Bub, don't worry!” ringing through the hallway as Taehyung took your palm in his, leading you over to the entrance.

After you both got over to the lobby, with the alpha already calling one of their personal drivers, the man gently hugged you, sighing softly, his chin tucking your head under his face.

You were left in a small surprise, shocked at the blatant display of affection, even though you were both standing quite close to the reception desk.

Though the calm beta sitting behind the computer didn't pay either of you much mind, the gentle clicking noise of the keyboard was soft to your ears.

„What would you like to do, baby? It's only the afternoon still, sweetheart. We can go somewhere if you want." Taehyung asked you softly, smiling from ear to ear at how close you were to his scent gland.

Gently running his fingers through the very tips of your hair, the alpha kept his voice gentle, even though the naturally deep rumble was quite far from it.

„Okay, oppa,” you answered softly, breathing in his heavy scent. Happy that you agreed, the alpha's phone softly dinged, notifying you both that the driver was in front of the building.

Adjusting your coat for you, he found a mask in his pocket, helping you put yours on, smiling sweetly at you, and giggling softly. „You're adorable, my baby." He whispered gently, kissing your forehead in a quick peck.

Hiding most of his face himself, Taehyung adjusted his coat, taking your hand in his as he led you through the doors outside, the suddenly much colder air hitting you both like a tidal wave.

There was a black car right in front of the building, its engine running. Opening the back doors for you, the alpha gently helped you slide behind the passenger seat, bending over to adjust the seatbelt around you.

Smiling so widely you could see it in the alpha's eyes, he closed the doors gently, making sure the sound wouldn't be too harsh.

Sliding into the passenger seat next to the driver, the alpha buckled up himself, turning to you and checking if everything was okay. You were looking out of the car; the windows tinted for privacy.

Telling the driver to just take him to their packhouse for now, Tae looked through the available music and radio stations, though there wasn't really anything.

Sighing softly, the alpha hoped he could make the drive pleasant for you, but hopefully you would be okay. He prayed.

Their drivers, and mostly all of their security guards too, had to wear scent blockers so their scents wouldn't accidentally stick to the alpha's clothes.

They wouldn't necessarily mind, but it could be unsettling and agitating, and now that you were with them, it was even more important.

They could imagine you not liking the scent of another alpha on them or yourself, and so it was a good precaution to take.

The driver was quiet, not really striking up a conversation, only making sure to drive extra safely after Taehyung told him he needed to be careful with you in the car with them.

The vehicle stopped in front of the house, the engine turned on as the alpha climbed out of his seat, opening the doors for you before he helped you undo the seatbelt, seeing your fingers struggling.

„It's okay, babycheeks; Alpha will do it, sweet baby.” He whispered gently, his arms then wrapping around your waist, pulling you up to his chest.

He didn't let you stand on your own; the freshly fallen snow and the ice hidden underneath were worrying him on the inside too much to let that happen.

And so, the alpha gently pulled you closer to his body, helping you wrap your legs around his waist. Holding you close to himself, he softly chuckled at how close your face was to his scent gland. The slight tickle made him feel sweet.

Waving the driver off, the car soon backed out of the driveway. Taehyung took you to the packhouse entrance, putting in the long passcode and then using his key to unlock the door.

Switching on the lights, he sat you down on the floor carefully, shutting the doors behind you. „Come on, babycheeks, let's go rest for a little while.” He whispered gently, helping you untie the cute, fluffy boots they chose for you.

Setting them aside, the alpha hung your coat up before he quickly got rid of his own and his boots too. Seeing you waiting for him, a soft yawn escaped your lips had him smiling once again.

„Are you sleepy, baby? Aigoo... cute... Come on, let's go, babycheeks..." He said gently, picking you up once again, not letting you even have a chance to go on your own.

Taehyung walked you both over to the couch, too lazy to go upstairs to his room. Settling you on the sofa, he crawled next to you, laying behind you.

Pulling you close to his chest, the man gently let his chin and cheeks rub against your hair, his scent fully covering yours. You smiled a little, basking in the affection with your eyes closed.

He scented you for a few seconds, his lips occasionally meeting your cheek and forehead, but after he noticed you getting more and more sleepy and tired, he slowed down and rested himself.

Turning on the TV, he gave you the remote, letting you choose whichever movie or series you wanted to see.

Covering you both with a soft blanket, Taehyung let you rest against him, slight rumbles coming from his chest in content.

„Narnia? What a great choice, my sweet babycheeks! I haven't seen that in a long while...” The alpha whispered, pecking your temple as you rested your eyes. The noise turned on just quietly.

You found comfort in the movie, but since you were used to watching it in Japanese as your brother was obsessed with it when you were young, you never heard the Korean dubbing.

It sounded quite weird to you, but after you realised the dialogues really just stayed the same, you settled well, Taehyung's hands gently caressing your sides and arms, sweet and gentle.

You soon fell asleep—a nap that you didn't even know you needed comforting. When the alpha noticed you were in dreamland, he smiled widely, so happy you let him rest with you.

Having you close to himself while sleeping, he felt his deepest needs and wishes he didn't realise he even felt—until now—fullfill.

There was something so deeply satisfying for him, and honestly, for all of them, in having you let your vulnerable side fully out in front of them, leaving them to protect you and take care of everything while you napped.

There couldn't be much of a better feeling than this, the alpha realised, pulling you even closer.

Well, maybe if it were in the den. They seriously needed to get the room started, considering how much both they and you seemed to start to need it.

He could already imagine it so well—all of you falling asleep together in a soft, cuddled-up, warm mess, invited into your nest if you would let them.

They might not need the blankets to cover themselves with; after all, even though it was very cold this December, most of them slept with a summer duvet that was thin and not too heavy.

On the other hand, you had been carefully tucked away into many thick duvets, blankets, and pillows, the alphas making sure you wouldn't wake up from coldness.

Sometimes, when Namjoon would take them out on a camping trip, they would bring hammocks to sleep in.

In theory, they sounded quite comfortable and nice to lay around in; they were a lot less heavy too, so their backpacks wouldn't be that big and bulky.

But when it got to the aftermath of the sleep, most of them would have issues falling asleep in the night.

Sure, Yoongi or Jungkook did drop out within a few minutes; they are just naturally tired, and both could sleep anywhere. But he or Jin sometimes struggled with going to sleep.

And on that one trip, the one that they had this may, the nights were so unreasonably cold that it reminded him of late autumn weather.

During the day, it was more than fine; the occasional breeze was nice to feel as they would get too hot and sweaty otherwise throughout the hike, but as it got into the night, it wasn't that pretty.

They had sleeping bags and even brought the heavier ones, but still, not being able to sleep because of the cold wasn't that nice.

The packmembers wanted to take you camping; they might do it early this spring when it would get nicer out and would be possible, but a hammock was out of options for Taehyung.

The alpha didn't want you to grow cold during the night like he did. He wanted you to sleep comfortable, warm, and with no reason to worry; after all, they would take care of everything now.

He didn't want you to fall asleep because of pure exhaustion, like they would sometimes do in their earlier, more stressful years.

Tae knew that Namjoon would very happily plan a two-day trip for all of you, and while Yoongi would usually grumble and say how it's unreasonable and they could just stay home, the young alpha also knew that if you would look forward to it, which he could imagine you doing, Yoongi would not say a word.

The packmembers would bring a tent then, most likely, maybe two or three, so they wouldn't have to worry about the large space the giant one would take up.

Well, maybe you would like to sleep as a pack, and then they would carry it. But it was okay; that was only a small issue to worry about.

Taehyung knew he would keep you well warmed up during the night. It would be most convenient for all of you to bring sleeping bags, and so you wouldn't be able to truly cuddle during the night like you all might want to do.

But the alpha knew that if you would wake up during the night, the air too chilly and cold for you to rest properly, shivering with your lips blue, he wouldn't hesitate to zip you up into his own sleeping bag.

Just the thought of you being cold and uncomfortable had him hold you closer, his hands gently caressing your sides in gentle circles.

„My babycheeks, it's all good now...Alpha is here."

He whispered gently, more to calm himself, as his imagination felt too real for a moment there, the need to comfort you too strong.

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asongofstarkandtargaryen · 9 months

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JON SNOW DAY 8: FEAR AND TRAUMA 😔

The relationship between Catelyn and Jon is one of the most divisive topics within the asoiaf fandom. No matter where you stand on this debate, we can all agree that the influence each character has on the other’s life is a negative one.

Every time I write about this topic I feel the need to say that no, I don’t expect Catelyn to act like a mother to a child that isn’t her own just because the kid is related to her husband. Jon fans often get accused that we want Catelyn to “mother” Jon but frankly there is not a single Jon fan (at least as far as I’m aware of) that believes she’s obligated to do so.

With that being said, there is a difference between acting like a mother and treating a kid with basic decency. Catelyn is failing on the second aspect and fans rightfully call her out on that (same as they do with any character that is horrible other children).

We learn from Jon’s pov that she never calls him by his name. Minutes ago, on the same chapter she calls him “bastard”. Which means that mostly she avoids him, not even acknowledging his presence and that when she has to she’s calling him degrading names like “bastard”.

Her eyes found him. They were full of poison. "I need none of your absolution, bastard." Jon lowered his eyes. She was cradling one of Bran's hands. He took the other, squeezed it. Fingers like the bones of birds. "Good-bye," he said. He was at the door when she called out to him. "Jon," she said. He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He turned to find her looking at his face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

AGOT, JON II

Do you know how dehumanizing is for a child never to be called by their own name by an adult that lives in their home? And worst, have the same adult calling them degrading names? Catelyn, by the way she treats him, makes sure that Jon feels unwelcome on the only home he’s ever known.

I often see fans dismissing Catelyn’s mistreatment of Jon as simply avoiding him. Which can be harmful on its own but the thing is that Catelyn’s ill treatment goes beyond of that. Jon is terrified of her to the point he kept postponing saying goodbye to a brother he loved (Bran) simply because he knew she would be on the same room. This kind of reaction isn’t born by a kid who simply doesn’t interact with an adult in a position of power. This kind of fear means that some negative interactions between them existed in the past.

The text also supports this, because when Catelyn is irritated by Jon’s presence in Bran’s room she doesn’t simply ignore it. She threatens him that she’ll call the guards aka using her power as the lady of the house to indimidate this powerless teen:

Once that would have sent him running. Once that might even have made him cry. Now it only made him angry. He would be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch soon, and face worse dangers than Catelyn Tully Stark. "He's my brother," he said. "Shall I call the guards?"

AGOT, JON II

Lady Stark has casted a large shadow in Jon’s life. During the years he lived in Winterfeel, he always tried to be quiet, in the shadows. He never wanted to be in the spotlight (despite the fact that we constanly see post- Winterfell Jon wanting to be acknowledged) because that would also draw Catelyn’s attention. He also never felt fully belonging on his own home which was partly due to his stepmother’s mistreatment. Even long after he left Winterfell, he keeps having nightmares where she personfies his fears and insecurites.

Finally, I want to write about Jon’s relationships with his siblings and how Catelyn influences them. I’ve seen fans claiming that Jon had a good relationship with his siblings because Catelyn allowed it to happen but I honestly disagree. In my opinion, Jon has a good relationship with most of his siblings despite Lady Catelyn’s efforts to sabotage them. Canon also supports that with Catelyn speaking to a very young Robb about what makes his half brother different to him, to the point of Robb being agressive about it (something that older Robb who isn’t so easily influenced by his mother would never do):

Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell.”

ASOS, JON XII

Another example of Catelyn ill speaking about Jon to her kids comes when she tries to convince Robb not to name Jon his heir. During that conversation she even compares Jon to Theon (who as far as she knows is responsible for her two other sons’ death) implying that Robb’s half brother is capable of also harming their family:

"Jon would never harm a son of mine." "No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?" Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer's crypt, his teeth bared. Robb's own face was cold. "That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon."

ASOS, CATELYN V

Also, I don’t think it’s a coicidence that the child who is closer to Catelyn (Sansa) is also the one who has the most distant relationship with Jon. As Jon once again informs us in his pov, his sister always called him “half brother” instead of simply “brother”:

He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but "my half brother" since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant.

AGOT, JON III

To conclude, Catelyn hating the fact that her husband has cheated on her and has a child born out of his infidelity doesn’t make her an awful person, just a human one. The fact that instead of blaming Ned she has put all the blame to a powerless child is one of her negative traits and fans are justified to call her out on this.

#jonsnowfortnightevent2023 #asoiafcanonjonsnow #canonjonsnow #jon snow #house stark #catelyn stark #valyrianscrolls #a post of ice and fire #asoiaf meta #jon snow meta #mymeta

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cryingatships · 10 days

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Royalty au KimKenta keeps plaguing my waking moments but I don't have any time to write an actual fic, so here's some random thoughts-

Tony's an asshole king who has a legitimate son Kenta (along with multiple illegitimate ones), who is supposed to be the crown prince, but turned out to be an omega and is hence struck out from the line of succession.

Tony plans on holding a tournament beckoning all the brave and worthy from his kingdom (and also from other kingdoms) to duel for the Prince's hand, hoping to secure himself a powerful warrior or a wealthy noble house as an ally. This is partly because he's aware that the peasant of his kingdom will protest soon and maybe even overturn his rule, unless he has some strong/filthy rich friends to repel the attack, and partly cause he's an evil evil man who would not hesitate to auction his son off just to get rid of him from the line of succession safely.

He plans to make Way his next successor, but also considers Babe, his two illegitimate sons, and encourages them to compete in politics, duels etc except Way and Babe grew up together as unfavoured illegitimate children in a backwater caste far, far away from the royal palace and is thus very good friends who would rather help e/o out of Tony's wrath than fight for the throne.

Also Way is in love with the leader of the rebel peasants Pete and is not too eager for the throne anyway, and Babe would rather ride off as an adventurer into the horizon with a puppy-like, loyal page he met into the palace called Charlie. (Way is a lil jealous that Charlie becomes closer to Babe and takes his place as Babe's closest confidant, but he's busy planning Tony's downfall with Pete to pay it much mind.)

Anyway, as the tournament is arranged, knights and nobles rush in from diff corners of the kingdom, eager for the hand of omega who used to be the crown prince and was set to be the next king. Knights also come from far-away lands, and with them comes Kim, a very average and inconspicuous beta in his brown horse and the lack of finely crafted details in his armour.

In the opening day of the tournament, Tony greets the competing knights and nobles from a high podium, with three sons at his side, basically showing off his two strong successors—one enigma and one alpha, both his special powers—and the prize of the tournament, the 'beautiful' omega prince Kenta.

Kenta has the most frightening scowl, mastered from years of experience in attending council meetings with wily old coots from the nobility, as he hears Tony's words. He knows he has none of the so-called 'lovely omegan qualities' of docility, soft words and gentleness, and he certainly had not stayed cloistered inside the walls of the palace all his life like a proper little omega. He knows it, Tony knows it, and everyone in or below the podium knows it, but the all keep quiet and smile cause there are wayy too many benefits in winning the hand of the sole omega prince of the royal family.

As Tony is going on and on in his speech about the kingdom's fertile lands and it's military strength (and taking not a world about the starving population and the discontent brewing underneath), Kenta meets the eyes of an unassuming knight standing at the very back of the crowd—Kim. He feels a zap through his mind, the world stops, they both get lost in e/o's eyes etc etc, but then Tony's speech is over and the tournament is set to begin.

Kenta and Kim's eyes hardly stray from e/o and even Babe and Way makes note of Kenta's sudden strangeness, even though Kenta is mostly quiet all the time.

Kim wins through the initial rounds of the tournament, rising from an unknown little knight from the wilderness to one of the favourites to win the prince's hand. (Yes, there are bets going on about who's gonna be the prince's groom, you think Tony will let go of such a lucrative source of income?).

Kenta does not get to attend every single day of the competition because Tony is busy which means Babe and Way are also busy, extra busy in fact, but he makes sure to know the results of each day's duels well. He used to be the crown prince, he's got connections.

Kenta also gets flowers and an intricately curved dagger that looks like an heirloom and a few trinkets that look handmade and some delicacies that he has never seen before (and he was the crown prince with access to every delicacy in the kingdom) in his windowsill every day, but his rooms are on the second floor of the palace's most well guarded section so that def makes him raise his brows.

While all this is happening, while strolling in the palace gardens one day, Kenta comes across Way and Babe talking together behind a particularly high hedge in one of the less well-kept, semi-abandoned parts of the garden. This also makes him raise his brows, because while he knew Way and Babe grew up in the same palace, he (and everyone else) were under the impression that they were never close, and after coming back to the palace they have been separates even more by Tony's ploys and essentially turned into enemies fighting for the throne.

So why were they huddled so close together?

Way and Babe also see him and Babe grit his teeth and pull out the dagger strapped to his waist, which in turn makes Kenta grip the dagger hidden inside his clothes, the one he got on his windowsill, since Tony had confusticated all his weapons after his came out as omega under the guise of omegas needing to be soft and gentle and helpless. (the truth is that Tony was afraid Kenta will harm his face and bring down his value in the marriage market, or try to kill himself outright.) Kenta knows he has accidentally stumbled onto some secret between the two would-be crown princes, and would now be killed to keep his silence. He's ready to fight to death and take someone, or both, down with him. (he sort of also hates Way and Babe for taking away his position and his secure life, even though deep in his heart he knows that Tony's the real culprit.)

But Way holds Babe's waist and stops him and to Kenta's surprise, Prince Babe, well knows for his brash, aggressive, I-listen-to-no-one-not-even-the-king personality, listens and relents.

Way calls him closer, and then holds a knife to Kenta's throat saying that since Kenta has chanced upon their secret he will now know it all, and threatens Kenta to keep his silence because their plan will succeed, even if they need to die for it, and that he has the resources and the will to drag Kenta along to hell with him if Kenta spills it out.

Then they tell Kenta. Mostly Way tells him, while Babe glowers at him in silence. Apparently, Way is in cahoots with the peasant leader Pete (Kenta does not miss the stars in Way's eyes as he speaks the name. He meets Babe's eyes and they both know what it means and swiftly look away, knowing better than to bring it up), and the peasant rebels are all ready to kill Tony and are much, much more powerful than Kenta had ever known even with his extensive information network within the kingdom. Pete is also a son of a

Way: You were not supposed to know but as your step brothers it's our duty to keep you safe, so we told you everything. Hope this gives you enough time to make your own plans and escape with your little suitor, brother. Now stay quiet abt this or I swear upon heavens I WILL kill you, brothers or not. Kenta: Wait suitor?? Babe: You think we don't know that someone keeps putting courting gifts on your windowsill? We may be new here in the palace, but we got networks, y'know. Kenta: *panicking tho he tells himself it's cause he doesn't want an innocent man to die and not because he likes the person leaving them or anything* Then.... Tony...??? Babe: What, you think that incompetent fool knows anything other than to raise taxes, hear flattery, and get a new mistress every season? Kenta: ....Then who is it? Way: *winking* that's for us to know and you to find out.

I have MUCH THOUGHTS still, maybe i'll write them in another post sometime

#pit babe the series #pit babe fanfic #kimkenta #kentakim #ma fic

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adanima · 1 year

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Yeah, so another thing about VegasMacau as *the* brothers in KP

The thing that will never stop getting me is how visible Vegas’s care for Macau is. Like from an audience perspective, what evidence do we have that makes us so certain Vegas genuinely cares about Macau?

Vegas fussing over Macau's head injury in ep 2.

Vegas taking the time to just casually hang out with Macau in ep 6, seemingly with no plotting or other intentions than just spending time with his brother (the second biggest evidence imo).

Vegas asking about Macau's day when they sit to eat in ep 7.

Pete bringing up Macau as someone who Vegas loves that hasn't left him in ep 12 (and what has Pete seen, who we know is very perceptive, prior to this that makes him so sure in saying this).

Macau being so sure/comfortable in demanding a hug from Vegas in ep 14 post-credits scene, meaning Vegas has shown him easy affection in the past. And Vegas so quick to fold Macau into his arms and kiss him (the biggest evidence for me)

And what's crazy about this is how open Vegas is about his genuine affection towards Macau, despite his status as someone who will backstab others and gain enemies. If this is how Vegas acts around Macau in public, and we the audience can infer that he greatly cares about Macau, I'm certain any of Vegas's rivals/enemies would be able to infer the same. Vegas's love for his little brother is a very obvious emotional weakness that he just has on display for others to pick up on. If someone wanted to hurt Vegas, going after Macau must seem like an obvious pain point.

And this is probably why Tankhun/Kinn/Kim seem so disconnected to each other. Korn would not have allowed such open emotional weakness from his sons. At best, such emotion gives people a weakness to exploit. At worst, his sons might care about each other more than the family business, or even him. Korn would have spotted any open display of brotherly affection from any of them and manipulated/forced them to close that down. Notice that none of the 3 main family bros are shown to casually enjoy or seek out each other's company with no one else around them. Contrast that with VegasMacau shopping trip in ep 6 or even PorscheChay bonding in ep 5.

So, Korn was able to successfully strip his sons from showing brotherly affection. Why couldn't Kan? Because I'm sure Kan would have tried to snuff it out of Vegas, either through verbal scolding or physical beating. Kan would not be happy with having an obvious weakness on display. (In fact, you could argue that part of what feeds into Kan's disdain towards his sons is his idea of love=weakness, but that's a completely separate discussion.) And not just Kan. Vegas definitely knows his love for Macau is a weakness that enemies can exploit and it's probably better that he hide it. The fact that he doesn’t??

I would say it's partly for himself, but it's mostly for Macau. Vegas refuses to deprive Macau of yet another source of love and care. So even though it'd probably be safer for both Vegas and Macau if Vegas didn't show he cared so much, Vegas still continues to do so.

And this would piss Kan off so much. First of all, because Vegas doesn't bow to his demands and stop caring about Macau. But secondly, and perhaps more infuriating for Kan, is that Vegas cares about his little brother, where Korn doesn't. Vegas is willing to shoulder the dirty work to prevent Macau from doing so himself. And Korn? Deliberately sends the minor family (and thus Kan) to do the dirty work.

I bet this eats at Kan so much. He's never beaten Korn. Vegas's never really beaten Kinn, either. But you know what Vegas has beaten Korn (and Kinn) at? Caring about his younger brother. And just like Pete's father kept hitting him when he won a fight, Kan keeps hitting Vegas for this.

And despite all this, through all the beatings and shouts, Vegas still cares about Macau. One of the only things he doesn't let his father dictate is maintaining his love for Macau and showing it. Showing it so much that we can pick it up so easily, even before the safehouse episodes, when Vegas is only presented as sly asshole. The one thing that Vegas doesn't hide through all his scheming and his masks, is his love for his little brother.

#kpts #vegas theerapanyakul #vegas theerapanyakun #macau theerapanyakul #macau theerapanyakun #vegasmacau #kpts meta #yes i have many thoughts on Them #mine: *#mine: meta

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atmilliways · 9 months

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Wrong On The Money (21-22)

part 21 & 22 of ?? | 691 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

“If things start to go south, I mean at all,” Steve had said, looking directly at Eddie, “you abort. Okay?” Things start to go south, and Eddie cuts the rope.

Two chapters today, partly because they're both pretty short but mostly because this is the bit where I get to be cruel, but not so cruel that I leave it like this for more than a day. (There will be a happy ending, I promise.)

21.

“If things start to go south, I mean at all,” Steve had said, looking directly at Eddie, “you abort. Okay?”

Things start to go south, and Eddie cuts the rope.

“Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two.”

It’s been longer than that. But if Eddie doesn’t draw them away from the gate then those things are going to get out and go for Dustin, too.

Dustin, who is screaming at him not to go. Too late to turn back now, though.

“Don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just decoys.”

Eddie slams out the trailer door and scrambled for the nearest bike, careful not to let the butt of his spear catch in the spokes as he gets it up and moving. This is the stupidest, most suicidally insane thing he’s ever done.

“Absolutely,” Eddie had replied. “I mean, look at us. We are nooot heroes.”

He remembers those words as he pedals for his life. But that he remembers after he falls, and fails to run, and turns to face the gathering swarm, is Dustin.

Dustin asking about Wayne every once in a while, all serious, but brightening whenever there was good news.

Steve talking about Dustin being upset, with a twinge in his own voice that suggests Steve wanted to fix it for the kid. Can’t bring back a dead dad, but keep a friend’s uncle from dying? Sure.

Dustin wanting him to think that Steve is a good guy now, and not even being wrong.

For that little butthead, Eddie braces the butt of his spear and raises the last remaining shield—the one Dustin had made. He faces the bats with a scream.

22.

“I mean, look at us. We are nooot heroes.”

Steve is dead tired. His neck hurts even more than after the bats, to the point where talking hurts a bit. He wants to lay down and sleep for a week somewhere bright and cool and clean—or, barring that, at least somewhere quiet.

Nothing is quiet right now, because Dustin is screaming and Eddie isn’t moving and none of it’s and Steve has to fix it.

“We are nooot heroes.”

CPR. He still remembers how, from lifeguard training.

God, there’s so much blood. It’s all over Eddie’s face and gets in Steve’s mouth, the worst parody of a first kiss.

“Nooot heroes.”

He can’t run well. Not weighed down with Eddie in his arms, after how he’s been thrown around tonight, on so little sleep for so many days. He tries anyway, careful not to stumble on vines or the bodies of fallen bats, because they need all the time they can get. Eddie needs bandages and new blood and probably stitches—needs a hospital.

“Steve,” Dustin wails, limping behind him supported on either side from Robin and Nancy. “Steve, is he going t-to. . . .”

“He’s not,” Steve calls back, so firmly that he can feel Robin’s eyes on his back as though she can see and judge all his secrets.

“I mean.”

Getting through the gate is agony because it takes so goddamn long. But Nancy is right, they can’t risk making Eddie’s injuries any worse. It has to be done carefully.

“Look at us.”

Steve floors the accelerator on the RV. Beside him Dustin curls up tight in the passenger seat, stripped of his bloodied ghillie suit down to a hoodie and jeans, favoring his injured leg. Poor kid looks like he’s still trying to catch his breath.

Eddie is laid out in the back with his belly and side chewed open all the way up to his left cheek while the girls try and apply tourniquets as best they can.

This is Barb all over again. Not the blood, just—Eddie could go at any moment, and there’s nothing any of them would be able to do about it.

The tremors in Steve’s hands are disguised by his tight grip on the wheel. He doesn’t tell anyone; no one else can drive this fucking boat, and if they’re not driving then Eddie dies. Steve can’t handle any more death on his hands.

“We are nooot heroes.”

#angst with a happy ending #steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #(the memory of) barbara holland

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eretzyisrael · 1 month

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by Seth J. Frantzman

Here's a question. Let's say we compare Israel's apparent partnership or alliance with the US and the West to other similar examples. It's comparable probably to the close ties that South Korea or Japan have to the US and the West.

Now let's say there was an October 7 type of attack on a US partner like Japan or South Korea. And let's say the group that did it was hosted by a US ally…that would be really strange wouldn't it. You'd probably be perplexed…as in "wait, a US ally is hosting a group that just massacred 1,000 people in S. Korea that's awful, why would we have our ally host a group that does that"?

But when it comes to Israel it's considered normal policy for US allies to host and support Hamas.

I've come to the conclusion, and I'm sorry to say this and I never thought I'd believe this, that the West is partly or responsible for October 7 and that they empowered systematically Hamas. It's really sad but one has to begin to wonder…why are western governments backing Hamas? Why is it the same governments that were outraged by massacres in the Balkans in the 1990s, actually support an ally that backs Hamas and led to massacres far worse in a single day than what happened in the Balkans in most cases.

Is it usual that western allies host groups that massacre 1,000 people and take 250 hostage? I mean do we support Boko Haram also? I don't think so.

I think, tragically, that a decision was made many years ago to back Hamas and that some in the West see Hamas as their preferred group to take over Gaza, the West bank and Israel and that they were are working slowly toward this end, just like they decided back in around 2005 or 2010 that they needed to bring the Taliban back to run Afghanistan. They knew they couldn't do it overnight, so they moved the Taliban to their ally and had it wait and then they made a deal to bring it back.

Israel is seen today by some (and definitely by Western allies in the Middle East) not as a meaningful ally like South Korea, but rather the next country they want to Afghanistan. And so Hamas is being groomed. October 7 was the first shot in a long war, but the goal is clear. The Hamas leader flew from the Western ally to Iran this week to plan the next stage and he celebrated the UN vote for a ceasefire. Hamas is preparing its return to the West Bank. 134 hostages are still held with no end in sight…and Israel will be prevented from taking Rafah, either by its own leadership or other pressures.

It's sad but this is the case. And you have to ask tough questions…why is the West backing a group that committed genocide on October 7? Why are Hamas leaders living it up in a western ally rather than on trial for war crimes? Why is it that Hamas is less isolated today than on October 6? Why is it that western countries make statements backing Israel, but in essence they continue to hedge by also backing the countries that back Hamas? Hamas filmed its murder of civilians, they paraded dead bodies in the streets of Gaza but no one has charged them with war crimes? In fact even in Israel none of those captured in Gaza are being charged for crimes against humanity.

I feel that it's a kind of global "old boys agreement" that Hamas is being backed, it is being prepared to run the West Bank, and return to Gaza, and that none of its members will be charged with crimes…and October 7 will never be investigated, and that within a year Israel will declare victory in Gaza and Hamas will return to Gaza and the rocket fire will increase again and it's unclear if Israelis will even be able to return to the north and south, but there will be victory and huge achievements will be described and the hostages will mostly be left in Gaza for years.

It's sad but it's hard for Israel when it's up against a group backed by a western ally and basically backed by the West.

No one knew this on October 6 when they went to sleep. They didn't know that this would be allowed to happen, they felt secure, they had listened to the speeches at INSS and IDC and other conferences about Israe'ls capabilities and Hamas deterred and how strong Israel was and the 3-D chess that underpinned the logic behind letting Hamas and Hezbollah grow massively powerful and doing a deal with Lebanon and having cash flow to Gaza and how smart and 3-D chess it was to have Hamas hosted by western allies…we all believed this…and people were abandoned on October 7…but five months of war and everyone is told this is amazing victory…while Hamas relaxes in Iran and also thinks it is winning.

When two sides believe they are winning, they can't both be winning. And one thing is for sure…I don't think the West would back allies that host groups that carry out a massacre like October 7 in Japan or S. Korea…or basically anywhere. The West thinks that October 7 was fine. We said "never again"…but it was an empty promise, what we meant was "again and that's ok and the West will host the group that does it again."

I mean this isn't even like the Shoah…because during the Holocaust the West didn't back as an ally the country where the Nazi leadership lives. Today it's different. The West's closest ally hosts Hamas, and Hamas massacres more Jews than at any time since the Shoah, and the West thinks that is ok. So it's worse than the Shoah because during the Shoah the West fought Nazism…and maybe it didn't do it fast enough but there was moral clarity by Churchill and others. They spoke out about the hate of Nazism. Today I don't think any western leader really condemns Hamas crimes or wants Hamas members charged like Nuremburg.

You can check this out and look into it…but the fact is the Nazi leadership was put on trial. Hamas members literally live and thrive in a western ally and there is no attempt by the West to put them on trial…even though they murdered citizens of many western countries. Strange, isn't it…almost like there is a gentleman's agreement behind the scenes to support Hamas or at least tacitly accept its crimes as normal.

It's sad but that's how it is. And if there was any evidence to the contrary you would see Haniyeh at the Hague like Ratko Mladic…but Haniyeh lives OPENLY in a western ally country…Mladic was on the run…consider these facts.

Fact 1: The West warned Russia against the ISIS attack, the West did not warn Israel. Fact 2: The West's closest ally in the Middle East hosts Hamas. Fact 3: Hamas members have not been charged for crimes against humanity. Fact 4: Hamas members live openly in a Western ally and go back and forth to Iran and plot their next moves. Fact 5: There is no real condemnation of Hamas in the West, or a desire to see its leadership charged with crimes and the group dismantled. Fact 6: Hamas, hosted by a western ally, carried out the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust and there are no repercussions for Hamas. Fact 7: During the Holocaust the Nazi leadership was not hosted by a Western ally. Hamas is. Fact 8: During the war on ISIS, Iraq was supported to fully defeat ISIS. Israel is told to ceasefire and let Hamas control Gaza again.

#hamas #gaza #Holocaust #the West #israel #hamas leadership

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kintatsujo · 9 months

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LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away LABRYNNA EXPANDED (long post alert)

Let's start with a link to the original masterpost since this is plunked in the midst of Part Five of the OG plotting posts.

Labrynna was practically a footnote in the original CoRA plotting posts, it and Holodrum basically getting covered in one post.

But as I've noted since, it turned into its own storyline, and I got wrapped up in Politics, and fantasy politics are my fucking catnip so I have at this point gotten through two whole ass NaNos with it oh god.

Image descriptions will be in ALT this time around so theoretically the seventeen to twenty pictures in this post won't be quite so bad???

So where things pick up, Link has just left Windfish Isle on Uncle Torik's ferry with Marla and Tonbo and they're headed to Labrynna.

...I was going to post the map of Western Aurule here but that. I'm gonna put that in its own post. Here's a link to the map of Aurule proper as it currently stands.

And the first thing Link does, before they even get all the way to Labrynna, is piss off a pirate:

A lot of you are not going to look at the alt text so I'm going to say that he's based on a thorny devil and I did not mean for him to turn out so adorable. (But also I love lizards so maybe it was inevitable that my fondness would show through.)

Link was MOSTLY trying to get him to leave Crescent Island alone so he blows up the figurehead of Kragg's ship.

Which was of Kragg's wife.

Kragg is gonna show back up.

Link and Marla and Tonbo manage to escape to Jabu City, which is based on the fact that there's an OoT-style-Zora Village underwater off the coast in Oracle of Ages because this fic is nothing if not wild extrapolation.

Jabu City is a mixed-peoples city, with Zora, humans, Rito and some Gorons, but it's largely Zora.

Note on mister "Oh I'm in DANGER:" A running gag is that Marla is considered a very attractive Zora and Tonbo is having absolutely none of people hitting on her. Marla takes a lot of delight in this.

Have some more Jabu City fashion because I got carried away:

The trouble is, Jabu City is a beautiful place but the Zora there are generally kind of... hoity toidy high on themselves. There's a few crass comments made about Marla being from Windfish Isle, for example.

So Link, Marla and Tonbo don't spend especially long there and instead head north to the town of Brynna, where Link finds himself instead running into his mother's past-- stories of her adventures, but even more importantly into a traveling story collector who has a bit of a connection to Catena.

I want you all to know that hitting on the idea that the Graceful Gorons are called that because they're all Victorian era-style boxers was the single most inspired moment I've had in this AU setting's worldbuilding, my brain is enormous and I am sexy as hell XD

Anyways Allemande and Courante were Catena's friends for years, and then Catena died so Allemande started taking journeys around Aurule every few years so that he could collect stories about her and about adventurers like her. Think of him as being a bit like an earthier Kass without an accordion.

Allemande suggests that they go to Lynna City, Labrynna's capitol, partly because another one of Catena's old friends lives there now.

But on the way they run into Politics again (they've already run into these politics in Jabu but now it's even more in their face), because they have to cross the Kappakon River to get to Lynna City, and that means interacting with the Kappakon River Zora, who are quite a different deal from the coastal Zora:

What Enhir means when she says "what they're doing to us" is that the mayor of Symmetry City next to Dimitri Bridge is dumping garbage upstream of the nearest Domain, Nuun Domain, trying to get rid of them and mostly making their Patriarch and their tadpoles desperately ill. (I didn't include a sketch of the Nuun Domain Patriarch even though he does have a design because at the point I drew this I already knew this post was longer than most of the original posts for the AU, waagh)

Symmetry City is also where Link, Marla and Tonbo first meet Sturmaz, who essentially joins the party for pretty much the rest of the storyline because I love him and he's a good boy.

I made a post about Sturmaz before and it features a little more art that is absolutely him yelling at Symmetry City's mayor about this mess.

So it takes some yelling at the right people but eventually Link gets the Nuun Domain sorted out and they head to Lynna City to meet his mom's best friend, Githa, who actually lives here because she got banished from Hyrule for reasons that might be clear after the picture:

Notes on Githa: She was originally inspired by Agitha from TP as she appears in Hyrule Warriors with a bit of influence from Purah; for some reason when Invid and I were playing through HW Agitha being a secret criminal or mob boss turned into a running joke along with her NPC mode constantly clinging to giant bosses whenever it was absolutely inconvenient. That turned into Githa.

Also, she doesn't know Catena thought of her as her best friend, which is the real reason Link decides she's a disaster person.

The problem is, now they're in the Capitol and naturally there's more Politics there. For example, Sturmaz's uncle:

(Marla and Tonbo don't want to let Sturmaz or Link think that having shitty father figures is normal.)

And indeed, the stupid hat does come with the job, as Link discovers when he goes with Sturmaz and Nimbas to the Labrynna Senate:

So the idea behind Labrynna's government is that in CoRA's version of events, Labrynna abolished the monarchy after Queen Ambi because they weren't putting up with that shit again (the official line is that so much power is considered too much strain on one person.)

As is evidenced by the Presiding Lady still being a member of Ambi's bloodline and the senator of Brynna being her sister, however, nepotism is still alive and well in Labrynna.

Also Link gets a cute outfit so that he doesn't stand out so much in this crowd:

(It was an emergency situation I swear.)

To be clear this is a man's dress and Link's entire reaction to it is "I don't know how my father puts up with a floor length skirt." Fuck your gender roles.

Nimbas turns out to be more than a bit of a professional jerkass.

(By "river monsters," Nimbas means the Kappakon Zora. Just to be clear.)

Link also visits the Maku Tree, because you don't go to the capitol of either Labrynna or Holodrum and just not visit the Maku Tree.

I wanted the Maku Tree to have an equivalent to the Kokiri for a number of reasons but one of them is that over on the Ghirahim side of the story he's having a silent existential crisis about his backstory and I like narrative mirrors. *thumbs up*

Credit goes to Invid for the idea that the Koroks and Kokiri are actually just the same thing entirely and that the Kokiri put on the Korok masks in order to leave Korok Woods safely.

Also Kula is actually a canon Breath of the Wild character. I made a sound like I was greeting a cat when I found her in TotK. XD

Link finds out, among other things, that the Golden Kragg seems to still be pushing his way up the Kappakon despite that he has to fight every single river Zora on the way. It turns out that Kragg is upset about more than Link blowing up his ship's figurehead:

At some point several years before in Yoll Province, the local dragon went missing, the local lizalfos started acting up, and then the Labrynna Senate, partially spurred on by Senator Nimbas's arguments on behalf of Senator Aldo from Yollton, well, absolutely exterminated the Lizal presence in Yoll Province, and executed the lizalfos leader in Lynna City Square.

Leaving behind her husband, the Golden Kragg, and his lizalfos pirate crew.

So THAT'S not great.

Have a chonky dragon.

Obviously that means that Link has to investigate this shit.

Kragg is heading straight for Lynna City with full intent to carve a new statue of his wife out of the Maku Tree herself, and while the River King Izemaz, living in the Maku Domain, is absolutely going to step in if Kragg tries it, the main bridge Kragg would have to come through is a major marketplace in Lynna and Link can't stand idly by even if it means his destiny as a Called Hero is sort of chasing him around a little at this point.

Which means that Link and party take an express glider to Yoll because time is now of the essence (it is terrible that I didn't draw this. Imagine them sitting in one of those steampunk engine-less plane contraptions and getting launched from a catapult. Also Marla doing lots of screaming.)

Well, shit.

(Link can hear Gabbrosald's sickened godsong because of the pointed ears while Zora are just really sensitive to Things Being Wrong in the Environment. LORE.)

Anyways shit goes DOWN. They have to do a dungeon and everything. And finally, at the end of it, once they've freed the dragon in distress, Gabbrosald gives them a ride back up to Lynna City so they can stop the Golden Kragg from burning Maku Park and using the Maku Tree as carving base, because actually Lord Gabbrosald was rather fond of those lizalfos and would prefer that the Golden Kragg not get himself killed.

Now Link just needs to convince Senator Nimbas that killing the lizalfos that the furious local dragon god is fond of is maybe not the best idea.

#my art #loz #loz au: the courage of running away #au august #holy fuck goodnight everybody #I should not have tried to fit this whole storyline into one post

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itmeblog · 8 months

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hey! i have context for you, re: the thing that both tonia and the person on bluesky would have have been responding to. it's towards the end of anonymousad's hellishly long and weird shelterwood takedown and it, uh, doesn't exactly make them look any better. if you want to see if you can """read and understand""" (lmao, you're right, that sucks so bad) the true meaning of their words, here they are, in full context so as to avoid accusations of cherrypicking! "as an example, let's look at the Afflicted Season 2 crowdfunding campaign that just ended in failure.

this was a FIXED GOAL campaign. they were asking for $23,500 USD and they only made it to $13,283, just over 50% of the way there. so they got none of it. it was all or nothing and the result this time was nothing.

and that really sucks for a lot of reasons.

I had some criticisms about that campaign that I kept to myself at the time, in part because diverse voices in audio drama is really important. Afflicted provided a lot of opportunities for marginalized creators to get established and share their unique voices. so often the campaigns that are getting met are the ones that continue to prop up the same types of voices and experiences as we've all heard before.

I am much more interested in the unique horror that a show like Afflicted is bringing to the table as a production driven by a Black woman than I am with hearing from the same types of voices we are used to. we have a lot of similar people making stuff in the community, and frankly a lot of our "diversity" is mostly driven by being white and queer. these voices are important too and there's a lot that is good, but that is the majority in this space. that's why we need to make sure we are getting opportunities to the people who don't have the privilege or connections.

this is a personal opinion, not one everyone will agree with. but we are better as a community when we do extra work to make sure that more varied diversity is highlighted and supported.

Afflicted planted their foot saying "this much or nothing" and took the gamble that most of these high number campaigns are unwilling to do. a gamble that they succeeded in last year to fund the first season.

the difference is partly that the economy looked really different last year. disposable income, rent prices, general cost of living. it wasn't great, but it was better than it is now and that MATTERS. we all know how fucking bad it is right now, especially in the US, so to be asking these massive amounts of money is tone deaf. in this case, Afflicted was even asking for MORE than they raised for season 1. you could argue some of that is because they already managed to prove themselves as creators who were good for the money and deserved that kind of chance.

but the fact of the matter is that people just don't have that kind of cash to give over and over.

which leads into my main point.

every time I see a campaign with this high of a goal I think one thing:

"this is hurting the community."

now, that may not sound reasonable to some of you, especially if you are one of the people who believes that numbers this high are justifiable.

when we talk about supporting each other from a audio drama creator standpoint, it is done so freely and with an understanding that new listeners isn't really a thing we're going to run out of. if I recommend 10 podcasts I like, that doesn't hurt MY show. it just helps the community by sharing things we generally enjoy and care about it. this is how you end up with the networks of support that we've seen in newer places like the Audio Drama Lab.

unfortunately, money is not the same.

the amount of money that each of us has to give to support the things we like is limited based on our individual situations. anyone recommending a specific crowdfunding campaign to give money to DOES have an impact on the amount of money left in the pool for others.

so when something like Shelterwood or Arden or Afflicted or Among the Stacks or The Magnus fucking Protocol asks for these amounts, this is ACTIVELY impacting whether other campaigns will succeed."

Ooooh, okay, okay, okay.

Thank you for sending me the context, I do quite enjoy reading drama at times

I actually don't mind accusations of cherry picking, it's fine either way but thank you for your concern. It's very sweet.

The main reason I'm about to do what I'm about to do is because I've actually had microaggressions on the brain for plot reasons and this is positively wonderful practice to put these things into words.

Alright, so OPs argument here is that there's a set amount of money in the AD pool from which we can draw from, and that taking bigger draws for a production leaves too little for the rest of the AD community.

I'm not going to argue whether this is true or false right now (but I am going to point out...what this echoes later and why I do not like the argument) and instead am going to continue as if this statement is fact.

My question is why bring up the race and gender of Afflicted's creator? The entire diversity statement here is completely unnecessary. If the argument is that big budget audio dramas are taking too much money, and that is detrimental to ADs economic ecosystem then it does not matter if Afflicted's show runner was an alien from Venus. OPs decision to bring up the race and gender of the showrunner and then point out that the actions from this particular production is harming the AD community was a contextual...decision.

And as a result the following is now colored by the acknowledgment of the creator's race and gender so things like hinting at the aggressiveness of the campaign

"Afflicted planted their foot saying 'this much or nothing'"

and that she's taking too much for the ecosystem to survive

"every time I see a campaign with this high of a goal I think one thing: 'this is hurting the community'"

...is just a bad look. Because these comments simply don't exist in a vacuum.

I also have to wonder why the chose Afflicted in the first place. This could have been avoided if they had brought in the numbers of the Magnus Archives Protocol (whose numbers are still available ~700,000 pounds) or Arden (a successful campaign that aimed for 26,000 but made a tidy $12,065 and will use that money to continue production) or Shelterwood (which aimed for $26,000, made ~$6,000 and will also be going into production). Because...why use a "failed campaign" to highlight the money this one production is taking and "harming the community" with, when they, in reality, took nothing at all?

Why choose Afflicted? Was it timing? Was it because they were at hand? Was it because it gave OP a chance to talk about how accepting they were to different types of diversity?

Let's zoom out for a moment. We've heard this argument before the "there's not enough to go around and some people are taking too much and leaving too little for everyone else"...in things like affirmative action, and immigration. It's a very faint, "if you blink you might miss it" replacement theory argument.

And it begins to fall apart when they bring up this argument

Because if there's an understanding that new listeners aren't really a thing the AD community is going to run out of...while claiming that the funds (coming from people who donate, aka the pool of listeners that is ever growing) is stagnant the argument fails to hold up.

All in all, very odd. I'd claim there's a lot here that I didn't touch upon such as the acknowledgment that the AD pool is majority white and that the one production in this list that is asking for the least amount cash at highest stakes that contains the highest concentration of diverse voices is somehow taking money from the acknowledged "majority" is a bit of a hot mess, but I digress.

#Anywhooo very excited to be working on season 2 from Stories from Ylelmore #Where these types of things come up and will be discussed in a fantasy setting....because I can :D #I spent waaaay too much time on this but I think it's interesting.

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

Text

Would they play D&D?

Most people would be surprised to find out that Captain Price is a forever DM if they didn’t know him. But he’s been playing since 3.5E, and while he doesn’t have much opportunity to play anymore, it wouldn’t be hard to convince him to sit down for a session if he had the time. He’d usually choose to play pre-written modules, but tweak them as he’d see fit. He misses it a lot. However, he will never—repeat for emphasis, NEVER—DM a game for the 141 ever again.

Laswell played with Price a couple times before the job took over both their lives. And actually, Laswell and her wife both played, mostly because the Mrs. batted her eyelashes and convinced Kate to try it out. Their minis, a half-elf ranger and a gnome druid, still sit on a shelf at home cuddling romantically. Laswell knows why Price won’t DM for the 141 from his own firsthand account, but was not there for the catastrophe.

The first time Alejandro played, it was because Rudy made a bet with him about something unrelated and won. Rudy used to play as a kid with some other children from his neighborhood, and he liked DMing partly for the power and partly because he’s always been a cinnamon roll who likes to make sure everyone has fun. Alejo meanwhile played a human fighter, because Rudy told him it was the easiest to play. Alejo fell in love instantly with the game, but none of Los Vaqueros ever have time.

Graves played a TON of D&D in high school but quit cold turkey right before enlisting. He is horribly embarrassed by it and will deny even knowing his old campaign buddies. Phil thinks that Real and True and Good soldiers don’t do cringe shit like that, because they’re doing the COOL shit in real life. He’s been meaning to throw away those dice for years, and keeps telling himself he could probably make ok money if he just sold them instead. He played a human paladin all the way up to level 20.

He likes D&D a lot, but Gaz actually prefers Blades in the Dark or Monster of the Week. He has a lot of opinions about the virtues of d6 gaming systems over what he thinks is an overly-complex ruleset that involves dice with so many goddamn sides, and really, D&D doesn’t support as large a variety of playing styles and—hey, where are you going?? Anyway, he likes to play tieflings, and vacillates between bard and sorcerer. (Also he secretly and desperately wants to play Honey Heist with the 141. Ever since That Fateful Night, he knows it will never happen. It continues to disappoint him.)

Ghost has played once. Only once. Soap convinced him, and by convinced I mean he annoyed Ghost about it into submission. And Ghost wants to play again, actually, but he will literally jump off a cliff before admitting it, because it was That Fateful Night when Price ran the session for 141 which would go down in history as the worst time Price has ever had including active combat. Ghost played a half-orc barbarian, and secretly read through the entire PHB the week leading up to the session.

And finally, and perhaps not surprisingly, Soap is the reason Price will never DM for the task force ever again. Soap is a rule of cool kind of man, plays dwarf and halfling barbarians almost exclusively, and is practically allergic to the PHB, which is ironic because he’s so FUCKING good at minmaxing. This clashes with Price’s very rules-lawyery DMing style, and Soap doesn’t know how to not pick a fight over dumb rules like having to roll survival checks when he wants to know what time it is in-game.

Soap was not, it should be said, actually trying to come to blows with Price—taking the piss out of people is a Scottish love language—but Price had been tired. Price had been on his last cigar. And Price already spent too much goddamn time with these men. The fourth time Soap declared that he wanted to do some especially dumb bullshit that he would absolutely need to make a cascade of d20 rolls for, Price just folded up his makeshift DM screen (a couple of manila folders) and hit the fucking bricks. No one brings up That Fateful Night, but no one will ever forget it.

Bonus: Valeria would shove any D&D player she ever met into a locker. And honestly, they should thank her for it.

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breakerwhiskey · 9 months

Text

004 - FOUR

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut.

[click, static]

Alright, different channel today. Different channel and different state. I have made my way into West Virginia. And good lord, is it beautiful. I’m definitely avoiding all the flat just the way I wanted, but I am a little worried now that the mountains are going to make these signals even less likely to reach anyone.

I’m keeping my eye out for a better antenna, something I could boost the signal with. I don’t know much about this thing–radios aren’t my specialty–but I’ve always been good at tinkering with things and I pick stuff up quick. It’s why I got into the line of work I did. You need to be able to improvise, figure things out fast, and you’ve gotta be good with your hands.

I like discovering the way things work. In that sense, I bet you’d think this whole situation these past years has been my paradise. How do you improvise when the power’s out and the water stops being clean and you can’t get emergency services for shit because there might not be any kind of services at all anymore? I mean, sounds like a fun fair to me.

The reality got old fast. But I think I was able to build a pretty decent existence. It’s why I think I can do it again. I take comfort in the knowledge that if this car breaks down, I can fix it, and if it really breaks down, I can get another one going. There’s certainly enough of them scattered around.

Though not as many as I thought there’d be. I also expected the stores to be a lot more picked over. The gas stations, yeah, are mostly empty, but I think my odds of getting a stronger antenna are actually pretty good. I dropped into a hardware store late yesterday to get a tire gauge and air pump and the place felt…if not fully stocked, partly. And it’s not like I’m in the middle of absolutely nowhere, I’m still on a major highway. So why isn’t everything completely picked over?

[click, static]

I have seen a couple of lights on here or there, which I can’t make any sense of. One of them was a roadside burger joint–their neon ‘open’ sign was glowing like it was new. So I went in and…well, I didn’t expect to see anyone, I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I thought maybe…maybe there’d be a phone that still worked or a water heater or a working gas line.

It was the strangest thing. The neon sign was on. And the jukebox. And one of the lights over the counter. But nothing else. The phone was dead, none of the light switches seemed to do anything.

I did try playing a tune on the jukebox but…I don’t have any quarters. Why would I? I haven’t used money for anything in years.

But anyway, it all got me thinking…if I could find a working radio tower, could I boost this signal? As it stands, I’ve just got to keep driving round and round and round until I get lucky enough to come into range with another CB. But if parts of the grid are still working, then maybe—

[click, static]

Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference because maybe there is no one to find. And I’ll just keep tuning into a new frequency every single day and talking to the air.

[click, static]

But I think it’s…helping. Even if I’m not talking to anybody.

[click, static]

Maybe because I’m not talking to anybody. If no one can hear me, there’s no consequence to anything I say. And talking to yourself isn’t embarrassing or sad if no one knows it’s happening. Right?

So, who knows, maybe I’ll keep going on this no matter what happens. I’ve got nothing to lose.

Signing off.

[click, static]

[beep]

#breaker whiskey #audio drama #episode #transcript #Spotify

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ashes0909 · 2 months

Note

steve rogers: cockwarming, paperwork, crying

This fic took a bit longer to get out than I'd expected but I hope you like it nonny! It's Hydra Trash Party - so please heed the tags. Thank you for the inspiration <3

Paperwork

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Hydra Agents/Steve Rogers; Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow; Alexander Pierce/Steve Rogers Tags: HYDRA Trash Party; Non-con; Cock Warming; Multiple Partners; Derogatory Language; Forced Orgasm; Humiliation; Objectification; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Steve hadn’t even blinked his eyes open, unconsciousness still catching the last of his sleep-warm body, but HYDRA didn’t care. Steve knew enough to understand that it didn’t matter who was tugging him from his holding cell, the result would end up the same: Steve would be tied up somewhere, used, abused, then put back in his cell with nothing but a bucket of water and a dirty cloth.

It’d been a long time since he’d been captured, far past the time he thought the Army would rescue him. No one knew he was still alive, dug up from the frozen sea in some unknown time, by a world power he’d thought he’d torn down.

None of it mattered anymore. The HYDRA agent locked his hands behind his back with reinforced cuffs then pushed Steve so that he tripped over his own feet as he was tugged, pulled, forced forward then pushed into an elevator. It was only then that he looked up and saw who was escorting him. It was the one they sometimes called Crossbones, mostly referred to as Rumlow. It could be worse, could be better--Rumlow liked to play with his food. He winked at Steve when he saw him looking, then pressed the number five on the elevator.

Steve let out a true breath of relief. Not the worst option. The fifth floor meant the conference room and that could only mean one thing: paperwork duty.

Rumlow shoved him out of the elevator when the doors opened, kicking his heels unnecessarily. Steve was already walking towards the conference room, but Rumlow must like to see him trip over himself. Steve turned to look at him over his shoulder, glaring. Rumlow laughed in reply, a dark bark of a sound, borne more from taunting than amusement. He shoved out a hand and pushed Steve hard, so that he hit the door of the conference room with the side of his face.

“Your meeting awaits,” Rumlow said with a smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes, which made the smirk turn into a grimace and earned him another shove. This one had him falling through the door but he didn’t hit the ground, recovering on his heels with a skillful balance.

“That’s enough, Rumlow.”

Steve’s shoulders tensed at the voice. Alexander Pierce sitting in the conference room could mean a variety of things, many of them not good for Steve. He looked across the conference table and met Pierce’s gaze dead-on. With his eyes still locked on Steve, Pierce nodded a signal and Steve didn’t even have time to flinch--though he had no desire to give Pierce the satisfaction--before Rumlow punched him in the gut. It forced Steve to break his stare with Pierce, which was probably partly its intent. Pierce hated when one of his “toys” didn’t avert its gaze. The punch also barreled Steve over, wind knocked out of him. It only took a quick swipe of Rumlow’s boots under his feet for Steve to hit the conference room carpet.

“Secure him at the head of the table.”

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