#too many people are specifically calling to block black celebrities

[maxwell-grant]

Random thought, if various Pulp Heroes somehow had Social Media, what would it be like. If you want specifics, let's say The Shadow, The Spider, The Green Hornet, Kato, The Lone Ranger, Tonto, Zorro, The Spirit, Domino Lady, The Green Lama, The Black Bat, G-8, Operator No. 5, The Moon Man, and The Avenger (not including Doc cuz I know you don't like him). Bonus: Supporting Cast members (Harry, Nina, Justice, Inc. etc.)

(I’m going into this ignoring the time periods and just putting the characters in a vacuum)

The Spider is effectively a social media cryptid, who constantly makes short-lived accounts on most platforms that usually consist of first-person records of the terrors he goes up against and varied forms of death threats against criminals, with “DEATH TO THE BRINGERS OF DEATH!” becoming a rather contentious, ban-worthy slogan across the web. Surprisingly, not many people actually have the guts to make Spider roleplay accounts, terrified that they’ll be targeted by his enemies or the Spider himself. Richard Wentworth doesn’t maintain social media, but he’s rather popular across it as a figure of public fascination, this sullen millionaire who does and says weird things, scion of a dead family, who looks so tired and broken sometimes and who sometimes rants about systemic inequalities and philosophical quandries and horrors of the world even when he’s just being interviewed, and who sometimes gets violent and thrusts himself headfirst into people that try to shoot someone near him, and who absolutely would have been outed as The Spider already if it wasn’t for the fact that most people don’t think The Spider is a human being. 

Britt Reid posts via a Daily Sentinel account that he runs solo. As someone playing the role of idle playboy, he is just good enough at faking Twitter brainrot to the point it works in favor of his secret identity, and just good enough at masking information to be successful as a crusading journalist and activist. As The Green Hornet, he actually runs a separate account that kinda seems like a LARPing thing at first to those not in the know, enough to not get him shut down by Twitter, but everyone kinda knows that it’s the Hornet’s actual account. It works in favor of the crimelord façade, lets him drop thinly veiled threats and misdirections, lets him constantly talk shit about major public figures and/or other heroes and keep up the charade, lets Reid get away with stirring the pot and dropping controversial statements stuff he couldn’t get away with as Reid. He has Kevin Smith and Seth Rogen blocked on all social media. 

Kato was fine with just having burner flip-phones for picking up Reid’s calls, but Reid got him something a little more up to date. He still always uses the flip phones on the job, he uses gloves constantly and you can’t use touch screens with those but, occasionally he takes the time to get really good at mobile games of his choice. He holds world records on a lot of racing games, claims it makes for good practice. 

Don Diego de la Vega basically just sticks to Instagram, posting your average celebrity attendance photos and amateur photography shots, occasionally some very classy thirst traps here and there, never anything too racy or undressed. There are quite a handful of Instagram & Twitter accounts and subreddits dedicated to Zorro, reporting on his deeds, his work within communities, praising or condemning him, and a loooot of them are not at all subtle about their thirst for the guy. Diego largely just finds this amusing.

Denny Colt would be a redditor, and he’d sort of drop by on The Spirit subreddit on occasion to do AMAs, mostly lying or telling truths so mundane that most people believe them to be lies. He loves and shares cat memes. The Spirit is the only one of these characters that I could see making sort of an effort to communicate with people online about who he is and what he does, largely as a way for him to seek assistance in his investigations and try to make things a little easier in terms of public relations. There’s a separate Spirit subreddit for people who, usually either want the women of his rogues gallery to step on them, or want to tie him up and show him a good time. The Spirit pretends he doesn’t know about this.

Domino Lady has a TikTok, as Ellen Patrick. Ellen’s considered to be very private with her personal info, with only a couple of wikipedia articles about her and pictures of her attending events floating online. But she’s good at playing the TikTok thirst algorithm, good at building up a charismatic online presence, and very adept at using social media to find her targets and info on them, many of whom actually just approach her outright thinking she’s an easy mark. 

Jethro Dumont doesn’t use social media, or at least, not under his own name. The Green Lama has been banned from most social media sites following some of his posts targeting law enforcement figures and politicians, and if his secret identity wasn’t unknown, he’d be put on several watchlists at minimum. Most of his time online is spent on Goodreads writing book reviews, particularly scathing ones towards books that misrepresent buddhism and buddhist beliefs. The topic of cultural appropriation comes up a lot when people look up the Lama online. No, he is not selling his superpower-inducing radioactive bath salts anywhere, and the less people try to make their own, the better.

Black Bat lurks and posts on 4chan, and you’re just gonna have to take my word for it as to why. The /k/ weapons board doesn’t hold in-person meetings anymore because of him.

The Moon Man absolutely detests social media for a myriad of reasons, one of which being that it’s completely ruined most google searches for his name due to some wretched online memes attached to said name, almost got him to change his name and costume. The only place he really goes to is Linkedin, which is where he can sometimes find potential allies or people in need of assistance or money, and Tumblr, where he posts a lot about politics. He’s controversial, but all things considered, he winds up being pretty popular here. 

Operator 5 only really joined social media to try and recruit people against whatever Great Invasion he was supposed to be fighting off that week. He was constantly and repeteadly told to fuck off for being a secret service spook.

G-8 posts on Deviantart. It’s quiet, nobody bothers him, he’s already calloused against unfathomable horrors from beyond the grimiest depths of imagination, and it lets him keep journals and pictures of some of his exploits for record. 

Doc Savage still posts on Facebook.

Justice Inc maintains a website where they can be reached out for contact, and most of their social media is operated by Smitty and Nellie (who has a pretty massive following on TikTok). The group as a whole coordinates very effectively via Discord. The bulk of Richard Benson’s social media experience boils down to miserably staring at pictures of his family saved on old profiles. 

The Shadow maintains and manages profiles on ALL social media sites, even dead ones or ones that you’d never even heard about.  Lamont Cranston’s verified, but the account’s partially run by the real Cranston who mostly posts dumb garbage, which The Shadow allows for so long as it doesn’t jeopardize his cover. He’s got different profiles for his dozens of secret identities and most of these are maintained by Burbank and other social media-assigned agents who mostly pass on to him information. He arranges investigations, gathers clues, sets up traps, he hijacks podcasts to relay information, reaches out to people in need of assistance, manipulates information, and covers tracks for whoever helps him do it. It’s become a massive part of his crimefighting network and it further arises suspicion since no one knows which accounts could be secretly run by agents of The Shadow or The Shadow himself. Whoever thought that an era of endless communication networks would make The Shadow less effective or scary couldn’t be more wrong. 

In short,

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #the shadow #doc savage #the avenger #richard benson #justice inc #the green lama #zorro #don diego de la vega #domino lady #the spirit #denny colt #The Spider #richard wentworth #the black bat #the green hornet #kato #britt reid #Conan does not use social media and if you explained the concept of Twitter to him #he would kill you on the spot and consider it mercy #and he would be right

[sashi-ya]

Hi! I feel like year of the tiger prompt is so fitting for a Zoro x reader piece! maybe nsfw if you’re feeling it for that prompt? or if you wanna write some sfw fluff I would love that too! Sorry for not being specific I hope that’s ok :/ f or gn pronouns are fine :3 thank you so much

Hi baby!! I'm sorry for the waiting, but here I am with this fic! Is not NSFW since I've written several super spicy for him, but I promise it's cute :3 I hope you enjoy, and thank you for requesting! 💖🌸 ~

~ 🌸 Cherry Blossoms Over Wano Event 🌸 ~

Sfw~ Roronoa Zoro x F! Reader ~ New Year, Year of the Tiger.

tw: Perhaps a few bad words and strong topics since Reader is a courtesan.

A/n: Based on the theory of Zoro being descendant from the Shimotsuki clan. It is not stated whether he is Simotsuki or Roronoa, so you can chose. Also, this AU is about him never joining the strawhats, but living on Wano since he was little. I made it SFW cause deep inside my soul I know Zoro is still a virgin (And I have written a lot of porn for him for this event, so let him rest for a little, right? haha)

wc: 2.5K

Like this event? masterlist 🌸~

“Auch, don’t pull that much from my hair!” you protest, as your friend is getting you ready for the celebrations of the Lunar New Year. “Stay still, I wanna add a little detail…” she mumbles, including a hair pin -and of course, pricking your scalp with it-.

Truth is you look stunning, your typical clothes and the beautiful make up are perfect for the parade. You and your girls will march right in front of the beautiful dragon, carrying paper lanterns to light up the way of the streets of the Flower Capital.

New year’s celebrations always come with Moon pies and delicious other foods, a final firework show, music and typical dancing. There will also be demonstrations from the young Samurai and that’s something most of the girls are waiting to see for the night...

The music announces the moment you should start walking through the main street, it’s a cold night, but sake tints red many noses and cheeks. The laughter of the crowd during festivals feels special, as if nothing really mattered for at least one night.

Your crimson kimono flows with the cold winter breeze of Wano, and the pin your friend included on your hair chimes magically. Young and not so young men look at you, scanning the ladies from head to toe, and frankly a disgusted shiver runs through your spine.

The vibrant reds and goldens from the articulated dragon dance right behind you, cheering up the crowd, stopping its march for some minutes and moving it’s little nuzzle towards the people so many can touch it and pray for good luck in the new year that’s beginning.

The more you walk, the more you are expecting to get to the place where the samurai and his warlords wait for their annual demonstration on their katanas’ skills. They are usually sitting all next to each other, wearing black yukatas covered in typical armour. Kabuto that make them look like bugs, Sodeover their shoulders, even the Kasazuri around their waist.

And there they are, you can’t see their faces because they are all watching to the ground, respectfully blocking any distractions from their calm and cantered state of mind. And of course, a girl like you is indeed a disruptive image for their constant meditative condition.

But tonight there is a new surprise… a samurai without armour, and actually, without a warlord… a young ronin.

He is not sitting, he doesn’t need to obey. His hair is green, and fluffy, almost like those moss balls that usually float in the ponds of the forest. Caramel skin, slightly tanned, clean face but an eye closed, crossed by a scar. He imposingly stands, arms crossed, serious facade. Three katanas attached to his right hip, that’s something you only saw once in an old textbook… a man, called Shimotsuki.

The ronin is not even interested in looking at the parade, but more on now trying to open a bottle of sake. The lantern on your hand, bathes his face in a subtle red tint and while he chugs his alcoholic elixir, his mandible, so sharp and manly, shows and with it three golden earrings hanging from his left earlobe.

“I’m gonna make you my wife!!” a despicable drunk bastard shouts from the crowd, exactly in front of the ronin. “You, the one who wears the tiger hairpin! How much do you cost?!” he keeps shouting as you wait, impatiently now, to keep walking the very first moment the guys moving the dragon behind you start walking again.

Many other men laugh at you, apparently the feeling of being degraded to a mere thing you could buy makes them happy and excited. But in your heart, you could only feel a void, and in your stomach, disgust.

“Come on!! Look at me! Tell me how much is your price” the man insists, coming closer to you, with filthy hands so ready to touch you.

Fast, so fast a green cape passes before your eyes. An aura making you so weak, a strong man right before you. His back so wide, veiny hands, thumb so ready to slightly push the scabbard of a white katana off, even the steely scent coming from the blades...

“Z-Zorojuro” the man says with a trembling voice, scared, slowly walking backwards and stepping on some weak men laying on the floor. Your fellow courtesan friends hug each other, the menacing presence of that swordsman is enough to make people feel terrified.

But, the Yakuza, seeing how everybody starts to mumble about how a coward he is being, fires back. “You disgusting Ronin, you are nobody, I’m surprised our Shogun hasn’t killed you yet! Where is your family, huh? DEAD. Your clan was sh-”

A red glare invades the green haired man’s argentum eye, the blade of his katana lingers over the jerk’s neck, bloodthirsty, ready to slice flesh and even bones. Time freezes, people do too.

If he did this, in the middle of the festival, defending you… you would be killed the moment you put a foot in the pleasure house…

The red lantern ends on the floor, slowly being consumed by the flame of the little candle inside. “Zorojuro, it’s ok” you mumble, your fingertips feeling the tightness of his forearm’s muscles. You have taken the risk of stopping this man from killing that bastard by grabbing his arm. “I’m already yours, you are my master, no man could buy me anyway” you say, fixing your eyes on his glare that’s now piercing your soul with.

Hoping you wouldn’t end with your head sliced up, you keep looking at him begging to stop for the sake of both.

“This is bitch is yours already? Ugh, no way I’d buy an already used whore, even less if it’s from this Shimotsuki scum”

Zoro’s mandible gets even tenser, neck muscles twitching while he rests on your soothing look. “Stop, Mr. Samurai” you think, and communicate those words by never taking your gaze off from him.

Slowly, like a tamed beast he puts back his sword. The sound of the blade finally clicking it’s hilt with the scabbard allows the time to resume going by, people breathing back again. The tense ambient yet, still persists.

“Uh, yeah” he mumbles, grabbing you from your waist and pulling you closer. Strong aura still around him, aura people would say feels demonic.

A peculiar scent of steel invades your nostrils, the way his yukata opens over his chest shows a crossing scar that goes deep into his body. His arm around your waist feels so strong, protective, caring… but also menacing, a feeling that makes you feel weak, weak and aroused.

He gives a last look at the man in front of him, making the bastard fall into his knees -and probably wet his pants, if he hasn’t done it yet by now-. “Let’s go” he says and starts walking with you in between the crowd. You take a look at your friends, they are still trembling, amazed how you were able to stop him.

“(Name), what should I tell Kyoshiro about this?” one of the girls from your pleasure house asks, before you get lost into the crowd.

“Tell him, Zorojuro has bought her” the green haired ronin says, before you are able to speak a single word.

The sound of crunchy dried leaves resonate during the night taken over what until a few meters away was all revelry with music and sake, the icy moon over both of you illuminates the path. You are not sure if you shiver because of a cold February night or by the glacial solemnity with which the Ronin walks a few centimetres ahead of you.

“Thank you so much, Sir. Should I address you with a special name?” you ask, shy but trying to acknowledge him.

“Me? Zoro it’s ok” he says, straightforwardly, perfect profile bathed by the moonshine.

Out of words, you keep looking at him, the chiming of his earrings and his gruff voice sound like a beautiful melody, his wide frame like the embodiment of a God.

“Are you something like a prince, Zoro?” you dare to ask, because frankly you want to know more about him. That bastard said he is from the Shimotsuki clan, rulers of Ringo until Orochi and Kaido took over.

“Prince?” he laughs, what a beautiful laugh. “I am from the Shimotsuki clan, yes. But I don’t remember anybody, my whole family was killed when I was 2 years old” he says, with a little hint of pain in his voice.

You close your eyes in a clear sign of pity, how much pain and despair Orochi has caused, and how many atrocities were committed because of Kaido’s power…

But, as much as you’d like for this walk to last forever, you should get going. He has helped you enough already, and it’s time to hide somewhere until they forget about you missing at the pleasure house.

You walk faster to get next to him and caress his forearm softly as he rests his palms over the hilt of his three katanas. “Sir… I mean, Zoro… I’m gonna get going, thank you so much for what you have done for me. If there is something I could do to pay you, sir, please tell me”.

Zoro stops, his face seems troubled. “Where are you going?” he asks, really confused and you start thinking about the fact that he wasn’t lying when he said that he bought you. “Uh you are free to go, of course, but are you going to be safe?” he adds, clearly showing you you are more than free of doing whatever you desire yet still caring for your integrity.

Having absolutely no place to run to, you were planning on passing the night under a tree or perhaps some abandoned minka in the case you found one. “I- don’t know” you mumble, embarrassed, looking at the ground.

“Then come with me, I can sit outside so you are more comfortable sleeping inside. It’s ok with me” he says, showing you that even if he looks like a rough guy, perhaps with no fancy manners, he is indeed a gentleman.

“You can sleep inside too, Zorojuro. I know you won’t hurt me”

The crunchy leaves on the floor have turned to snow an hour ago, the region of Ringo salutes you with its white immensity and the icy surfaces shine with the moon light, just like the rulers of that land, the Shimotsuki or frozen moons.

You know that’s where a big cemetery is. People say that the climate there is so cold and severe that’s the perfect place to bury a dead body, and now you are sure they are right. The graves and the katanas that rest next to them are all covered by a thick mantle of white, as cold as Zoro’s stare.

“This is where you live, Zorojuro?” you ask, trying to mutter the chattering teeth you got by the cold. “Indeed, are you cold? Take this” he says, taking his green cape off and covering you with it. Of course it is way bigger than you, so you are able to snuggle inside comfortably.

“T-thank you, sir” you whisper, allowing the sweet scent of his body to fill your lungs. Again, the steel scent mixed with some body odor that’s far from being disgusting, makes you feel weird things inside your lower belly.

His cabin looks minimalist -at best-. Zoro has almost no furniture, yet, some bottles of sake garnish the floor. Of course, you are sure that he lives completely alone, no lucky lady nor a man accompanies him whatsoever. A single futon on the ground, some cozy blankets and a simple kitchen next to it. The fire starting to burn as he lights it up to heat the ambience.

“Do you want something to drink?” he offers you, while you scan the place without speaking. “Oh… uh- yes” you nod, not really in the mood of drinking, but surely accepting whatever comes from this man.

He gives you a cute white cup with green bulls painted over the porcelain full of green tea, and there you were thinking he would give you booze. You are too used to dirty men wanting you to get drunk to do something to you, that you thought bad of him.

You nod, while drinking the hot beverage, looking at him doing the same trying to supress the giggle as the cup is too tiny for his big hands. And what beautiful and strong hands he has.

“These cups are really pretty, Zoro” you mumble, inspecting the green bulls surrounded by petals of cherry blossoms painted in them. “They are? I found them here when I came back… I guess they were the emblem of this family” he mumbles, breaking your heart by the way he sighs when telling you so. “I see…” you whisper, fidgeting the porcelain with care.

Some minutes pass in complete silence, and you are sure a tiny little white fox is playing in the snow outside while you look through the only window to pass the awkward time. None of you say anything until Zoro decides it’s a good time to stretch and yawn -loudly-.

“So, are you sure you don’t want me to go outside? It’s fine, I’ve endured the cold already” he says -brags-. “It’s ok, it’s your home you can st-” you utter, getting completely mouth shut by him kissing you, all of a sudden.

You open your eyes, widening them more and more, realizing the kiss he planted in your lips was as clumsy as pure as possible. When he breaks it, you are still in awe, looking at him blinking in confusion.

“What- what was that?” you ask, not mad but curious.

“Uh… that’s what my friend Sanji told me you do when you wanna say “happy new year” to a beautiful girl” he tells you, also confused because you were actually asking.

That friend of you was trying to play you, Zorojuro… you think, giggling a little, but immediately smiling at his sweet ignorance.

“Is that so? then let me give you another one to tell you happy new year! You actually look like a sweet tiger, so it’s perfect for the Year of the Tiger”

No need for further words, kissing so chastely you slowly fall into the futon on the floor. You crawl up to his chest, and he, clueless, passes his arm around you. Maybe if you wanted you could have corrupted him, but was it really what you needed?

No… you just needed a place to rest for the night, and his chest felt exactly like that warm shelter you were looking for, for so long.

What a pure innocent soul he held inside… The green haired Ronin was a new year’s miracle.

“Happy Lunar New Year, Zorojuro” you whisper, kissing his cheek. “Happy…” he mumbled, as he slowly drifted into sleep… ❤~

#roronoa zoro #cherry blossoms over wano event #zoro imagine #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #op zoro #ronoroa zoro #zorororonoa #pirate hunter zoro #spicy week event #kaizoku gari zoro #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zorojuro #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece #sashi ya #sashi-ya

[stubbornjerk]

Why people keep telling you to block them if you support Pholo (Penumbra Edition)

Or: why jitterbug-juno really deactivated

I love when people categorize this as fandom wank. Really makes you feel like you’re putting the onus on either side of the conversation.

I’m making this post not because I want to stir up spoiled milk, but because I want it out there that this wasn’t a purity culture war.

The TL;DR version of this is that fans of color tried to tell Rab (prev. jitterbug-juno) not to post her Omegaverse (or A/B/O) fic. And instead of taking the L, she posted it on Ao3 and deactivated.

But, if you want context, well, buckle in. CW for mentions of racism and transphobia.

What did jitterbug-juno do?

Before I get into this I do want it out there that I will not be linking Rab’s fic, but I will show you this screenshot of the summary of it.

[ID: It is a screenshot of a fic, “As You Are” by Pholo.

Summary: Peter can hide his scent glands behind cologne; makeup; concealer pads. He can quash his heats with suppressants. He can divert the urge to nest and fawn.

But he can’t feign another gender’s subvocals. He lacks the anatomical capacity. Mag taught him to distract from his silence with fast, flashy words. For longer heists he relies on social convention. Traumatic mutism is uncommon, but remarked upon by enough war vets and soap operas to be widely recognized. Peter’s marks assume he’s been harmed long before they assume he’s a closeted omega. It would take quite the backwater brute to ask why he doesn’t murmur or chuff or growl.

On the 'Blanche there are the usual furtive glances. Juno makes clear to Peter that should he ever want “to talk about what happened,” he’ll be there to listen. The gesture annoys Peter more than comforts him.

‘Nothing happened,’ he wants to scream. ‘There’s nothing to talk about!’

There are 14 comments, 85 kudos, and 11 bookmarks /end]

You decide what you’re doing with that information, but honestly, I’d rather you don’t give it anymore engagement than it deserves.

There was a period earlier this June (yes, even though it’s only the 10th, at time of writing) when Rab was posting snippets of the aforementioned fic on her blog and tagging it appropriately, putting it in the attention of pretty much the entire Penumbra fandom.

What’s Omegaverse or a/b/o and why is everyone so against Rab for it

If you know what Omegaverse is, I don’t have to tell you why it’s controversial. If you don’t know what Omegaverse is, well, Fanlore said it best:

a kink trope wherein some or all people have defined biological roles based on a hierarchical system, with the terms originating from animal behaviour research. There may be werewolf, knotting, or other animalistic elements involved, or the characters may be otherwise purely human.

The term is generally written with slashes (a/b/o). Many fans, particularly ones from Australia and New Zealand, are uncomfortable seeing the term without slashes because it is also an Australian slur for aboriginal people.

I won’t get into the history or the heaps and tons of other discourses (mostly about fictional male pregnancy, homophobia, transphobia, sexual assault, etc.)  that go on within that. We’re here specifically on Rab v. Penumbra fans of color and we’re staying there.

Anyone who’s been in Penumbra enough to realize that everyone draws the Junoverse characters in a certain way knows that a) Juno is black, b) Nureyev is Asian, and c) as a fan you have to be aware of what you’re subjecting or saying about either of them because of the political repercussions that come with it.

And despite that, Rab proceeded to write Peter Nureyev, a gender nonconforming gay Asian male character that is widely headcanon’d as trans, into a fic using a kink trope that relies heavily on animal behavior.

Unlike most people new to fandom, Rab is aware of what Omegaverse is and is very much white. She is (and if she isn’t, should be) aware of the racist undertones that writing him in would get.

I couldn’t get a screenshot of what snippets Rab was sending out into the ether, seeing as a majority of my friends would rather not have seen any at all (I have all of the usual tags blocked so I wouldn’t have seen it either way), but needless to say, Rab got attention for it. Both positive and negative.

Anne (@hopeless-eccentric) even posted a satirical fic, in the odds that Rab was just writing this thing to be “the first” to write Omegaverse fic in the Penumbra tags.

But, I’m assuming more than one fan of color came into Rab’s inbox and messaged her about it, but someone I know (who would like to remain anonymous) was gracious enough to take a screenshot before he sent his in and let me use it for this post:

[ID: A message to jitterbug-juno about to be sent by a sender whose name is censored with a black bar. His messages says:

“as someone who is a person of color i think the nature of the fic you are writing right now is extremely racist and attributing animal characteristics to lgbt people of color is not at all appropriate, especially when you are someone who is white. i have to ask you to not publish this fic and to reflect as to why you would want to write this in the first place, these tropes are extremely harmful and”

There are 33 characters left to write into the message. /end]

I can’t speak for whoever else sent asks about the fic she was writing. If anyone was actually not-so-gentle with her, well, minorities don’t really owe it to you to be gentle about what they can tell is bigotry-tinged behavior.

But, the message was clear: this is different from your garden variety, lily white straight male character m/m kink fantasy. This is an actual queer Asian character that a lot of queer Asian people feel attached do. Do not post the fic.

What happened next: the beginning of the end

The next morning, I woke up to most of my friends being frustrated by this post on Rab’s account:

[ID: Dated 5 June, a post by jitterbug-juno:

“Gonna leave the fandom for a while. Wishing you all well.”

The tags say the following: not sure if i’ll be back, thank you so much to everybody who’s read my fics, and who’s sent asks or engaged with my art or any of that, you’re amazing and I’m sending love /end]

That... was not what fans of color wanted, but it was definitely an action they took. Some celebrated, as they were very much wary of Rab for having caused much of the same category of drama in fandoms like Voltron: Legendary Defenders and Warrior Cats. This also meant that she was probably not going to post the fic either.

Some, myself included, were relatively pissed, as they’d wanted even just the measly bit of accountability. An apology or an acknowledgement of having been called out in private and that they’ll take time to consider why. But instead we got Rab leaving in the face of fans of color telling her not to post her Omegaverse fic.

Well. The next day...

[ID: Dated 6 June. A post by jitterbug-juno titled, “Well... that was short-lived”

“I gave the situation a lot of thought yesterday. The reaction to my omegaverse previews made me figure I should leave the fandom. It seemed like the safest option.

But you know what?

Hell.

I don’t want to leave. The fic discusses the tropes of omegaverse and I spoke to several POC on Twitter, and I’m going to post it with plenty of tags so people can avoid it if they wish. I’m not going to be chased out of this space.

Thank you to everyone who sent messages yesterday. I shouldn’t have made that post about leaving. It was really reactionary. I’m okay and I appreciate your support so much.

(bolded on the post) To those who are angry and uncomfortable with me: Please block me. If you’re going to talk about this fic on Tumblr and Twitter– and this may sound odd– PLEASE NAME ME as Jitterbug-juno or Pholo. Don’t vague me. That way people who don’t want to see this discourse can add my name to their block lists.“ /end]

That certainly was short-lived, she wasn’t kidding.

This got a lot of outrage. Again, the fic is up on Ao3 and she has not taken it down. A lot of POC were pissed and I didn’t see a single fan of color actively support what she was doing, at least, not in my friend group. Everyone started making those posts to block them if you liked the fic or Rab’s content in general, in accordance to what Rab wanted.

Perseus (@mraudiodrama) noticed/pointed out that Rab deleted the part where she said she spoke to several POC about releasing her fic, as well as the part where she said she refused to be chased out of the fandom. This was an incredibly pointed detail to edit out, according to some.

[ID: A screenshot of jitterbug-juno's last post taken 11:00PM. Much of it is the same except the following bolded words are removed: "The fic discusses the tropes of omegaverse and I spoke to several POC on Twitter, and I’m going to post it with plenty of tags so people can avoid it if they wish. I’m not going to be chased out of this space." /end]

That same day, Rab deleted her blog. I actually caught this one on tape, believe it or not.

[ID: A screen recording taken at 12:01 PM of someone scrolling down jitterbug-juno's account. The posts and asks about Omegaverse and her post about leaving and coming back are conspicuously absent. /end]

Initially, I thought she deleted all mentions of it. I wanted to see firsthand if the rumors about her deleting portions of it were true. If she added things where she was saying that she wanted to write it because she was autistic and wanted Nureyev to be autistic too, regardless of the numerous QPOC telling her not to do it.

Instead, it turned out, she deleted her blog.

And now, we're here. The fic is still up. Her blog is down. Rab's public Twitter account @nataclinn is quiet about this. Her @cushfuddled Twitter account is on private after her run-in with the Warrior Cats fandom, according to a friend. And her Tumblr @cushfuddled account has nothing but memes.

Again, I didn't make this post to stir up drama. I wasn't even obsessively making this post as a call-out because she isn't in the fandom anymore. I just want it out there that this isn't a purity culture thing that got out of hand in a fandom as niche as Penumbra. This was a case of someone being called out and failing to acknowledge it before running away. And I want all that out of the way before I say:

If you are on Rab's side of this debacle, I, a queer person of color, want nothing to do with you either.

#the penumbra fandom #jitterbug-juno #pholo #racism #white drama #im not tagging this as fandom drama or fandom wank because that erases the fact #that this was legitimate criticism of a white person #the penumbra podcast #junoverse #i put it in a readmore so its not gonna clog up much #but if anyone doesnt want me to tag this w the fandom tags i'll remove it #once again though this is the furthest thing from anti/proship discourse

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 20)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 7235 Warnings: fluff, smut, angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I’m patiently waiting for some screaming! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 19 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Making your way downstairs was a little awkward and you barely made eye contact with Bucky. Winnie was waiting outside by the idling car, laughing at the person who had their back to you. They were fairly tall in a pewter suit and had short brown hair that was closely shaved in the back. Winnie nudged her chin and the person turned around, a smile spreading across their unfamiliar and yet completely recognizable face.

They shared the same deep blue eyes and dimple on their chin as Bucky and you knew this had to be Rebecca. Their hair was longer in the front, falling just beside their eyes, sparkling with gold and plum shadow.

“Bex!” Bucky exclaimed, smiling just as widely to see his sibling, wrapping them in a big hug.

“You cut your hair!” Rebecca looked at it approvingly. “Tryin’ to copy me I see,” they joked.

You smiled watching them together, forgetting any awkward feelings between yourself and Bucky; they were now solely reserved for introductions with Rebecca whose effortlessly cool vibe had you on edge for some reason.

Bucky pulled away from the hug, placing his hand behind you, almost touching the bare skin of your back before he realized that might be too intimate.

“Bex this is Y/N,” he introduced with a proud smile you couldn’t see.

“So nice to meet you,” you said, not expecting the hug they gave you.

Winnie stepped in the moment Rebecca stepped back to give you a hug of her own. She turned to check in with George who stayed in the car listening to a classic rock radio station.

“Okay let’s not be late,” she chirped, pointing at the watch not present on her wrist. “James, you sit in the front. We’ll all squeeze in the back.”

Rebecca got in first, sliding across the black leather seats to take the smaller spot in the middle. It wasn’t crowded with the three of you sitting together but Winnie made a good call not letting Bucky’s bulkier frame encroach on you or Rebecca had he been seated back there.

You saw swirls of ink on Rebecca’s wrist as they shifted to pull out their phone, which prompted them to roll up their sleeves, showing off part of the tattoos that cover their arm.

“It’s not done yet,” they said, revealing a bare spot on their forearm beside a large watercolor macaw tattoo.

Bucky’s head turned back ever so slightly, his eyes trying to see as much as he could without being so obvious as he watched you and Rebecca interact. He knows why he’s so nervous, his family hasn’t met anyone in his life since Olivia.

He scoffed internally when he thought about it. He was a kid, a kid with a broken heart that should have gotten over it a long time ago. But had things been different maybe Bucky would have never met you. He smiled to himself, thankful for his choices– no matter how childish, because they led him here.

Softly colored roses in peach and pale pinks were draped along the wooden archway, the gossamer fabric wrapped around the posts fluttered delicately with the wind. A golden sunset on the water served as the backdrop for an even more beautiful ceremony, celebrating the love of two people that never expected to find it.

Bucky looked over to catch a glimpse of the fading sun sparkling in your eyes. The soft sigh he exhaled was masked by the sound of cheers that rang out amongst the crowd as the newlyweds kissed.

The crowd dispersed onto the adjacent patio where lanterns hung from large sturdy trees, white pillar candles flickering inside. Soft pink fabric was draped over the tables, some small with golden framed chairs surrounding them, others free standing high tops that were scattered around beside the neatly trimmed lawn. Each had a handful of tealight candles gently glowing on top.

You followed Bucky and his family to the table where the hors d'oeuvres were served, taking the plate he handed you and picking up a few things. The display at the end of the table made you burst out with laughter. Among the fresh fruit and crudité were oversized plastic ants, each with a piece of fruit on their backs arranged in a line as if they were walking away with them.

Bucky shrugged. “It’s a thing with Hope’s family… I never really asked,” he chuckled, picking up a few strawberries from the platter behind the fake ants.

George pulled a chair from another table so you could all sit together. Placing his plate down he asked Winnie if she wanted a glass wine and she nodded, confident in knowing George knew what her favorite was.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Bucky asked. He knew what you drank when everyone went out together but he didn’t want to assume, waiting for you to respond before he and Rebecca accompanied their father to the bar.

Winnie didn’t hesitate to talk once they’d left, specifically about how happy she was Bucky was able to bring you. “He caused such a fuss, begging Scott and Hope to give him a last minute plus one.”

At that moment you wished you had a drink to bring to your lips, covering up the way her revelation had left you slack jawed. According to Bucky you were invited because he responded for two, making it seem as if you were doing him a huge favor by coming but the more Winnie spoke you realized your invitation was never to fill a seat; he was begging and pleading to bring a guest, to bring you.

“I can tell you’re special Y/N. I’ve never seen James this way with anyone in a long, long time.”

You couldn’t speak if you tried, smiling back at Winnie as your mind raced to free your heart from the protective cage it was locked away in. For once they were on the same page, heart and mind, desperate to run together right to Bucky.

When he returned to the table you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, maintaining a soft smile as your heart fluttered like a hummingbird inside your chest, desperate to break free and scream out your feelings from the top of your lungs.

You thanked him for the drink he brought back, letting your fingers linger on his hand for a beat longer than they should have, keeping your gaze locked with his before slowly turning towards Rebecca to answer the question they asked. Bucky’s cheeks were a blooming pink that practically matched the decor, his skin prickling with the memory of your touch.

Time passed quickly over conversation along with extended family members coming over to say hello. You didn’t miss the way Bucky smiled widely as he introduced you, simply as Y/N but wishing his lips had spoken the words written on your heart and called you his.

The grand doors of the ballroom opened when it was time for the reception. Bucky offered his arm which you took as he led you inside. Large chandeliers hung from the intricately detailed ceiling. Tall vases served as the centerpiece on the tables, each filled with a large arrangement of similar colored roses from the archway.

Pulling out the chair for you to be seated, Bucky happened to catch the approving smile on his father’s face, looking away to avoid an embarrassing flush to his cheeks if he held the knowing look any longer. He turned his gaze towards you and the beautiful smile that lit up your whole face as you and Rebecca were continuing your conversation from before.

Bucky sighed, feeling his heart swell even more as he realized he didn’t have to ask what his family thought about you, each of them unable to hold back their own smiles. They like you as much as he does, they want you to be with him as much as he does and if they knew how much of an idiot he’s been, denying his feelings for so long they would definitely cause a scene. But Bucky knows it won’t be long before he finally tells you.

So many scenarios went through his mind; inviting you to dinner next weekend and planning a whole speech, bursting through your door tomorrow night spilling out all the words in his heart in a mess of emotions, kiss you tonight, tomorrow, any day, every day! It doesn’t matter how, he just wants you to know.

His thoughts were interrupted by Scott and Hope making their entrance and sharing their first dance in front of everyone. Bucky reined in his thoughts that imagined the two of you in their place, a concept he never gave much attention to before believing it wasn’t for him, but with you by his side…

“Oh how sweet!” your voice beamed, pulling Bucky back to reality.

Cassie had run out onto the dance floor, swaying side to side with Hope and her father holding their hands. Scott lifted her into his arms, slinging her on his hip as Hope moved close enough for both of them to plant a kiss on both of her cheeks at the same time.

The photographer captured the moment along with so many more memories as the night went on especially when Scott’s best man Luis gave a very entertaining (and somewhat never ending) toast. You and Rebecca ran into him at the bar, unable to get much of a word in as Luis enthusiastically rambled on about how happy he is to be at Scott’s wedding.

“When I first met Scotty he was in a bed place, and I’m not talking about cell block D. His wife had just filed for divorce. And I was like, ‘Damn homie, she dumped you while you were in lock up?’ And he was like ‘Yeah I know. I thought I was gonna be with her forever but now I’m all alone!’ And I was like, ‘Damn homie, you gotta chin up. ‘Cause you’ll find a new partner.’ And he did! And it all started when I was at a wine tasting with my cousin Ernesto…”

You were focused on Luis’ very detailed story unaware of Bucky’s eyes on you from across the room. He was startled by Scott, squeezing his shoulders from behind and Bucky turned around to give his cousin a congratulatory hug.

“You haven’t told her yet, huh?” Scott said, his lips pulling into a crooked smile. Bucky’s brows knit together confused. “I see the way you look at her.”

Bucky sighed, looking at Scott without replying. There was nothing to say; he was caught staring at you from the far side of the room because he was too much of a coward to tell you how he felt.

“Hey I know you might be scared. After divorcing Maggie I was terrified, thought I’d never be able to put myself out there again and then I found Hope.”

Bucky sees the smile crinkling your eyes, hears your laughter that’s sweeter than music. “You’re right Scott, I have been scared… but I’m not anymore.” A content smile spreads across his face.

There’s a calm sense of relief that washes over Bucky as he knows with certainty that there is nothing he’s ever wanted more in his life. The universe is with him, ending the fast paced song that matched the beat of his heart to something slow and romantic.

Bucky strides across the hallway like he’s floating on a cloud until he reaches you. The words flow like smooth honey as he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

His hand is soft against yours, your whole body giddy with delight as he guides you to the dance floor. Time moves in slow motion, the world around you fading away as Bucky takes your hand in his, moving his other to the small of your back.

It was intimate, close and exactly how you wanted it to be. You let out a soft sigh as you relaxed into his embrace, letting your free arm glide up the fabric of his suit, curving it over his shoulder and looking deeply into his eyes. His pupils were blown with desire as Bucky stared back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching with an ever so slight smile.

Words were not spoken as you swayed together with the music but you both felt a change; like breathing foreign air, something felt different. You and Bucky danced in a world of your own, the past a distant memory that held your fears behind, finally allowing your heart to soar freely.

A smile pulled at your lips, one that felt brighter than the sun as you truly let go of everything that was holding you back. You moved closer, letting yourself drown in Bucky’s intoxicating scent, like cinnamon toasting over a warm fire as you nuzzled your nose into his neck.

He squeezed you tighter, his heart doing backflips in his chest, unable to fathom that this was actually happening. His nose grazes along the shell of your ear and you hear the soft inhalation of breath coming from his parted lips. A wave of tingles ran down your spine, shocking yourself into remembering you and Bucky were not alone but very much in the middle of a public setting surrounded by his family.

You pulled back to his surprise but the smile that would never cease to leave your face calmed his nerves.

“Follow me,” you purred, not letting go of Bucky’s hand as you led him outside.

A few people were scattered outside on the patio, some gathered around the high top tables that still remained, enjoying their drinks over conversation. You smiled over your shoulder back at Bucky, pulling him further away until you reached the area where the ceremony took place. The chairs had been cleared but the archway remained, the fabric wrapped around it still blowing in the wind.

You stopped at the edge of the railing, looking out onto the water as moonlight danced on the gentle waves. Goosebumps prickled all over your skin but you couldn’t be sure if it was from the breeze or Bucky standing close beside you.

The beating of your heart grew faster and you wondered if he could hear the drumming through your chest. A lump was caught in your throat as you felt Bucky’s hand cover yours on the railing. You turned your head to face him, slowly lifting your eyes from his perfect lips, the sight of them made you lick your own, meeting his eyes, the darkness reflecting a moonlit sparkle.

The memory of your New Years kiss made you shiver, letting a shaky breath out as you turned your body to face him, letting your hands wrap around his neck, his hands resting on your waist, closing the distance between you.

It wasn’t New Years, it wasn’t even the Fourth of July but you felt fireworks erupting in your stomach as you kissed, his soft lips massaging yours with a passionate fervor that grew by the second. You needed more, parting your lips for his skillful tongue to slip past them, deepening the kiss and loving the way he moaned as your hand scratched through his hair.

Distant laughter reminded you once again that you were still not alone but in the moment you really wanted to be. When the need for air became too great you pulled away.

“I missed that,” you admitted through a smile, catching your breath.

Bucky caressed your cheek gently with his fingers, his whole face lighting up in delight. “Would you believe me if I said the same?”

“Maybe,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck again.

“Would you believe me if I told you how I can’t get you off my mind? That ever since you came into my life I’ve been fighting the feelings I’ve had for you?” You nodded softly at his admission believing every word, knowing that what you’ve been feeling wasn’t just in your imagination, that things between you and Bucky had changed and finally the truth was out.

“I’m tired of fighting them,” he said, “I– ” You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, sweetly stealing a soft kiss as you hummed against him.

Your smiles could not be contained, staring deeply into each other’s eyes under the silver glow of the moonlight. You would have stayed that way for longer had you not heard the echo of a voice coming from inside. Bucky peeked over your shoulder to see other people heading back in for the cake cutting.

With your fingers laced together you went back inside, taking your seats and ignoring the smirk Rebecca and Winnie had on their faces after noticing your lipstick was no longer existent, not on your lips at least. Luckily their eyes were focused on the newlyweds and not on Bucky’s hand which casually found its way to your thigh, his thumb gently running back and forth over the smooth material of your dress.

Scott dabbed a bit of frosting on the tip of Hope’s nose as she smushed a larger piece on his face, laughing and happily kissing his messy mouth to a round of cheers. The night continued with more dancing and Bucky’s family leaving just after the garter and bouquet toss.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Winnie said, having added you as a friend on Facebook. “George barbecues a lot over the summer so I hope to see you and James more often.” She wrapped you in a strong embrace, followed by Rebecca who had given you their Instagram, hoping to keep in touch as well.

George said goodbye with a friendly hug, reiterating your invitation. “James may be the musician but I’m the maestro of the barbecue.”

Bucky let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his embarrassment making you chuckle even more at his dad’s joke. Opening their arms to each other they hugged, and Bucky said goodbye to everyone.

“Get home safe!” Bucky called out as they walked down the hall.

You and Bucky stayed for a little while longer before saying goodnight to Hope, Scott and a few others, waiting outside of the main entrance for your Uber to arrive. Your lower lip trembled from the cold but less than a moment later you felt the weight of Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek that added to the warmth you felt.

The Uber arrived shortly and once you were settled inside you leaned your head against Bucky’s shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, rubbing your own through his jacket as your hand caressed his for the duration of the ride back to the hotel.

Bucky helped you out of the car, his jacket slipping off your shoulders as you stood up. You didn’t need it anymore, feeling warmth spread through your body from his touch. The walk to the elevator was short and quiet, both of you holding back awkward smiles and smitten feelings.

When the doors opened to your floor you felt your heart pounding louder with every step that brought you closer to the hotel room. Bucky swiped the card into the door, holding it open for you as it unlocked. The beating amplified when you heard the door shut and Bucky turning the locks. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide anymore, not with both of your feelings out there.

He laid his jacket over the chair as you set your clutch to the side. His steps were hesitant, full of tension as he got closer to you, finally finding the courage to take your hands in his. Up close you could see the blush that brightened his cheeks, smiling at the way he licked his lips, sucking his bottom one into his mouth and nervously chewing on it.

You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling the beginnings of stubble scratch at your palm. Lifting his gaze to yours you locked eyes with Bucky, seeing the retreat of blue as they grew darker the longer you stared at each other. Exhaling a shaky breath you moved your hand to the nape of his neck bringing him closer as you pressed your lips against his.

With that touch the dam of restraint broke and Bucky was kissing you back, his hands cupping the side of your face, your jaw, anywhere and everywhere as he deepened the kiss. Your hands were roaming his body, grazing across the strong muscles of his back and down his sides again as you held on to his waist.

Gulps of breath were quick as the need to make out was greater than oxygen, but when you did stop to fill your lungs with air you smiled against each other, foreheads and noses touching before he would capture your lips again, sucking softly on your bottom lip. You hummed against him, parting your lips for his tongue to slip inside and caress yours.

You gasped when the back of your knees unexpectedly hit the edge of the mattress, quickly losing your balance and pulling Bucky down with you. He braced himself with one arm above you, smiling at the way your face lit up beautifully with laughter. Bucky waited for you to center your gaze on him again before he brought his lips back to yours. His kiss was soft and slow, passionate and needy, wanting to prolong every second with you and hoping this wasn’t a dream. If it was he never wanted to wake up, preferring to spend the rest of his existence here with you in this perfect world.

His mouth explored your body, running his tongue down your skin until you gasped when he discovered that sensitive spot where your collarbone and neck met. Bucky smirked as you writhed against him, letting a sultry moan fall from your lips as he sucked your skin gently.

The sound alone made him hard and your hips lifting against his didn’t help. Bucky pulled away breathless, knowing he had to stop despite wanting this to never end.

“I can’t, we…” He swallowed dryly, bringing one hand to cup the soft skin of your cheek. “I don’t have protection.”

Not bringing condoms on a weekend that practically guaranteed sex did not sound like the man you first knew who was banging his way through every woman in Manhattan, but Bucky hasn’t been that man in a long time. Somehow over the course of your friendship he’s grown, changed into the person that admitted to what even he thought was impossible, having feelings and wanting more than just sex.

Bucky crawled back off of you, digging his knees into the mattress as he blew out harsh breaths to try and handle his situation accordingly. A smile spread slowly across your face as you pushed yourself up from the bed, quickly moving out of the way as Bucky swung his legs over the side as you remembered what Wanda thankfully snuck into your bag.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed, Bucky didn’t pay much attention to what you were doing, not lifting his head until he saw you standing in front of him with something in your hand.

“I have them,” you said firmly, opening your palm to reveal the package of condoms, the foil reflecting off the light. Your chest heaved with anticipation until Bucky’s eyes met yours.

The shock on his face was clear, never expecting any of this to happen. His back stiffened cautiously as he asked with trepidation, “Are you sure? We don’t have to– ”

“I know. I want to.”

Simple words, simple truths.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth pulled into a smile as you stepped in between his legs, leaning in to tease your lips against his but not give in to what he wanted. Instead you pushed on his chest to make him lay flat on the mattress, lifting the fabric of your dress you got on the bed to straddle him.

Bucky swallowed a dry gulp, his hands skimming first up your thighs and then your waist as you leaned forward to hover over him again. This time he doesn’t let you tease him. He took your lips feverishly, letting your tongues dance in a passionate tango. Your hips begin to move, grinding against his arousal and he whimpers against your mouth.

He gets the urge to tear off your clothes and fuck you hard into the mattress and if you were anyone else he would have, but Bucky doesn’t want this to be about sex. He wants to do something he hasn’t done in a very long time, connect with someone physically and emotionally at once.

Soft hands cup your cheeks, holding your face above him as Bucky stares deeply past your eyes and into your heart. A tender smile pulls at his mouth, one that makes you slow down and smile back at him, letting out soft exhalations that try to match the beat of his.

He sets the tempo, lifting his head to press his lips gently against yours, his hand running up and down your back. Cradled in his arms, Bucky shifted so that you were both lying side by side, his lips never leaving yours, swallowing every moan that fell from your heavenly mouth.

Your hands roamed his body; caressing the back of his head as you deepened the kiss with your tongue, feeling solid muscle beneath his shirt as you rubbed down his chest. His hands brushed against your thigh, over the globes of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You can’t help the moan that escapes as a dull ache radiates from your core.

Instinctively, your hips move against him craving more friction as your hands make quick work of his belt. His hand skimmed up your side, cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipple.

The breath stilled in your throat like the measure of time around you, slowing down enough so you could see every touch, feel the brush of his lips; each one the scratch of a pen on a music sheet, creating a song one note at a time.

Open mouth kisses trailed down your skin leaving you breathless as his hands pulled down the fluttering sleeves of your dress. Unclasping the buttons of his shirt, you peeled it off his body as he reached around to tug down your zipper, letting the fabric fall off you. You were drawn to each other’s bodies, warm mouths on warm skin that grew hotter by the moment.

A steady cadence of moans falls from your lips as Bucky worships you with his mouth. It’s better than anything you imagined on those nights when headphones blocked out the primal sounds of pleasure coming from next door. The pitch of your cries reaches new heights as he sends you over the edge, hands grabbing at his hair from between your thighs to brace yourself.

Blue eyes tainted dark with lust peek open to watch your writhe in ecstasy as you come undone. Bucky stays with you through it, his hands laced with yours as your body comes down from blissful heaven. He kisses his way up your body pulling soft moans and gasps from you along the way until he found your lips again; aching, hungry, desperate for his tongue.

You ease him to his back, kissing down Bucky’s neck until you reach the band of his briefs. Your eyes widen at the outline of his arousal, he lifts his hips to help you slide them off and your legs clench together at the sight of his thick cock springing up and slapping his stomach. He quivered with anticipation as you take him in your hands, a low groan rumbling in his throat as he watches himself disappear into your warm mouth.

Euphoric pleasure washes over Bucky as you hum around him, his moans becoming a sweet melody to your ear. Before it’s too much he pulls you off of him, grabbing your face in a plea for your lips against his. He skims his hands along the bed searching for the condom, having to get up to find it as you settle onto your back. The wrapper is torn open, the condom sliding down on his length.

Bucky takes a moment to look at you, to really look at you in a way he’s never taken the time before when he’s been with someone. Your smile lights up his heart and he presses his lips against yours softly. You wonder if he’s waiting for a sign, staring up at his smile stretched out so far he can hardly contain it. With a roll of your hips you rock against him and after losing himself in your eyes Bucky almost forgets what’s supposed to come next– almost.

Wetness gathers on his length and he pushes in gently, his gasps harmonizing with yours as he fills you completely. His lips are on your again because Bucky can’t help it, hooked like a drug on the immediate relief that comes with the investment of his heart.

The rhythm is set by the slow thrust of his hips, you claw at his back as he deepens his sensual pace, the friction bringing you closer and closer. It’s not long before you shudder around him, the first of many times that have you crying out his name; wondering but ultimately not caring if these walls were as thin as the ones in your apartment.

Your cries reach a new octave as he orchestrates your pleasure, thrusting to meet your hips as you ride him. Together you create a symphony that crescendos as you ride the waves of bliss together, the melody forever imprinting on his soul. Breathless, your lips find each other’s, molding together perfectly as you slowly come down; bodies covered in a sheen of sweat that makes you glow.

You whimper as you untangle from each other, immediately missing his warmth. Bucky tied off the condom, getting up to toss it in the small bin beside the desk. The wiggle of his butt made a smile form on your face that grew as he got back into bed, the weight of his arm curling around you and pulling you close against him. Bucky’s fingertips stroked your skin as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. His lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as you rubbed his chest, humming softly as your spent body relaxed into his.

“Tired?” he asked through a rasped whisper. You hummed in response and Bucky adjusted the blankets over you. “Go to sleep, I’ve got you.” The breath of his murmurs fall gently against your head.

Reaching to the side he clicked off the table lamp. In the darkness his lips found yours a final time, stealing a sweet kiss before you adjusted yourself against him again. Your palm rested above his heart and Bucky wondered if you could feel the way it was still beating with elation. He covered your hand with his, hearing you let out a soft hum as you smiled against him.

The bed is warm, made warmer with your bodies tangled together. Bucky listens in silence to the gentle sounds you make as you drift asleep. He syncs his breath with yours, turning his head ever so slightly to place a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. The rhythm of his heart relaxes to a beat he’s never felt before, one that fills his body and soul with a warm and fuzzy feeling that makes him feel like he would float away if you weren’t resting on him.

A smile secured itself on Bucky’s face as he fell asleep realizing that this feeling might actually be love.

You woke up feeling like last night was a dream, but the weight of Bucky behind you brought you quickly back to reality, one you never imagined would be yours.

His arm was wrapped around your waist keeping your bodies close, a shocking difference of the Bucky you knew that kicked his late night lovers out as quickly as possible. Then again Bucky isn’t that person anymore.

He was still asleep, feeling the breath from his nose against the back of your neck and as much as you needed to get up you stayed in bed for as long as possible, cherishing every moment spent in his arms.

You sensed when he woke up not long after. Bucky inhaled deeply, letting out a soft hum.

“Hey neighbor,” you whispered softly, rubbing his arm that was draped across your waist.

He tightened his hold, squeezing you even closer, smiling at the faint scent of perfume that lingered on your neck. You squirmed as he nuzzled the tip of his cold nose into it, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he rasped.

You tilted your head back, trying to get a glimpse of him but it was easier to turn around completely. Bucky still held you as you twisted to face him, staring up at his beautiful half-sleepy smile and soft gaze that shined like the sun as he looked at you.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his fingers lightly tracing your face. You nodded, a smile pulling so strong as your eyes beamed with happiness. “Good.”

He kissed you sweetly, soft pecks for your sake that were mindful of the morning breath he felt. He should get up to brush his teeth but Bucky didn’t want to, instead he rested his head against your shoulder, curling himself around you and smiling when he felt your arms wrap around him.

Bucky never knew how badly he missed a feeling he never had, feeling comforted in someone’s arms. He never knew how amazing it was to wake up with someone, to cuddle with them, hold them and be held. He’s slept with countless people but no amount of sex has ever equaled what he felt in this moment.

He could scold himself for missing out on this for so long but he doesn’t, because now he has the opportunity to share all these firsts with you and he hopes you’ll be his last.

The scratch of your nails running lazily through his hair made Bucky practically purr against you, the simple act awakening all of his senses, igniting his body in a way that could only be quenched by the heat of your skin against his.

He smirks at the memory of your taste, lifting his gaze to find the coy smile curving your lips. It seems he’s not the only one craving more exploration of each other’s bodies. Bucky reaches forward to bring his lips to yours, morning breath be damned. Neither of you cared anyway, quickly giving in to the flames of desire that spread like wildfire through your bodies.

It’s different now, when the morning sun reveals more truth in Bucky eyes, in the way he looks deep into your own as you climb the heights of passion together. Fingers entwined, breathless moans falling from his mouth, foreheads pressed together as he claims your lips, holding your body tightly as you fall apart around him as if this would all disappear if he let go. Every look, every touch; that was the difference. Bucky was giving every part of himself to you, opening up in a way he had never done before with anyone.

His hips stuttered as he climaxed, crying out with a groan that softened as your hands cupped his cheeks, stealing what little breath he had left as you brought your lips to his. He smiled against you, catching his breath in between soft kisses.

Bucky was quick to discard the condom and reclaim his spot beside you, opening his arms for you to cuddle close against him, keeping you warm as the aftershocks of pleasure shudder through your body. His hand rubbed circles on your back and the press of his lips on your forehead made you exhale through a content smile.

You stayed in his arms for as long as you could before desperately needing to use the bathroom, with Bucky laughing as you untangled your legs from his and the covers, sprinting naked off the bed. He laid back, arms folded under his head unable to contain his smile. This weekend has been greater than anything he could have ever dreamed of and the best is yet to come.

You scurry out of the bathroom towards your bag, throwing on a t-shirt for modesty before pulling out the clothes you would be changing into. Bucky watched as the sun streaming in through the window glowed around you, the angel that broke the confines of his heart.

There was less of a rush to the rest of the morning, having missed breakfast but still having time before you needed to check out. You checked your phone in between changing, seeing a flurry of messages come in from the group chat, plus Wanda and Steve sending separate ones to check in.

You heard Bucky get up from the bed but didn’t turn around because it still felt awkward. A good awkward as the butterflies in your stomach were still fluttering wildly, bit still whatever this was between you was undefined and you didn’t want to presume anything.

“Hey…” Bucky began slowly, and turning around you saw he was fully dressed except for his sneakers, hands in the pockets of his jeans with his shoulders shrugged up.

He looked like a little kid who thought he might be in trouble and it made you feel good to know you weren’t the only one who didn’t know how to act around each other. When you flashed him a smile Bucky relaxed, letting the tension go from his shoulders. He reached his hands out to take yours, holding both of them close to his heart.

Letting out a nervous breath he said, “Y/N, I want you to know that I meant what I said last night, every word.” Your smile slowly reached your eyes as he spoke. “And I never expected us to…” Bucky licked his lips, looking down as he felt his cheeks begin to flush at the memory of what happened. “It was incredible, you’re incredible, but maybe we could take things slow?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, sincerity woven through an unease smile as he waited for an answer. But he didn’t have to wait long. You nodded quickly, never losing eye contact as you smiled, reassuring him you could take things at whatever pace he needed. Bucky kissed your knuckles before letting your hands go, surprised to feel them around him instantly in a hug that dissolved any lingering concerns he had about his request.

Any awkward tension had dissipated by the time you pulled away, leaving nothing but the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the sound of your stomach hangrily rumbling. Bucky chuckled, feeling his own about to rival yours in volume so he sifted through the bag from your initial CVS run to find something to eat.

You satisfied your hunger with a protein bar each, splitting some almonds and topping it off with sparkling water, that you still worried would explode upon opening by the way Bucky quickly pulled it from the small fridge. Eating as you packed, you made sure nothing was left in the room. Bucky packed your dress up with his suit again and when you were ready he arranged an Uber to the train station.

Walking hand in hand to the elevator, Bucky stole an innocent kiss, unable to help himself. He wanted to show you just how much he cared now that the truth he held back for so long was finally out there. His affectionate touches continued all the way home, as Bucky slung his arm over you during the ride back to Manhattan.

“Wanna go out for some lunch?” he asked, as you approached your apartment building.

You nodded approvingly, listing a slew of places you could go for since breakfast wasn’t actually filling. Bucky opened the front door for you, resuming the placement of his fingers laced with yours once you were both inside.

The air in the building felt different, as if the walls themselves were watching you, whispering about what might be happening between two of their residents. The elevator opened, taking you to your floor with a jerking gasp when you and Bucky kissed inside of it.

Your bags were dropped off in your respective apartments, taking the elevator back down just as quickly as you came up to go for lunch, which was actually going to be breakfast. Bucky suggested a spot a few blocks away you had been to once before, an unassuming deli with an all day breakfast menu, though you hadn’t had the pleasure of trying their well known breakfast fare. You were looking forward to stuffing yourself sweet French toast and sugary syrup, hoping to spend the rest of the day lounging in Bucky’s arms.

“Bucky! Hey!” A woman's voice pulled you away from your lazy Sunday daydream.

You both turned around at the woman who just jogged past you, stopping to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

She was taller than average, showing off lean legs of unblemished light brown skin in the athletic shorts she wore. A large sweat stain soaked through the front of her grey tank top, her long dark hair a little messy but not really out of place.

“C-Claire?” Bucky stuttered, not expecting to run into her let alone remember her name. “Hey…”

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you. The hospital put me on night shifts the past week, it’s been hard to adjust. We still on for Saturday night?”

Sound was ringing in your ear like a bomb exploded in front of you and it had, in the form of Bucky being a lying scumbag. His snake like words charmed his way into your heart as a ploy to take off your pants and you complied with ease.

When the world was no longer a muffled haze you realized you and Bucky were alone again, with Claire probably continuing her work out; she has to look good for her date with Bucky at the end of the week. Maybe he was “taking it slow” with her too. You bit your lip before the quiver could show, feeling like an idiot for not knowing better. Bucky didn’t change and he never would.

“I’m so sorry about that. I never– ”

You were done with hearing any more of Bucky’s lies, retorting with one of your own.

“Shit! I just realized I was supposed to help Wanda finish unpacking today. She’s gonna kill me, I gotta run.”

You didn’t give Bucky the chance to speak, ignoring the way he pleaded for you to come back. Taking off towards the nearest subway, you ran down the stairs as fast as you could, at risk of tripping thanks to the tears that flooded your eyes. Wanda’s new place was much closer, and after a few quick stops you were in front of her door, sobbing heavily as you fell into her arms.

PART 21

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut

[jiminsasscracck]

sugar rush ↠ jjk

яєαℓιѕтι𝖈 αυ!

gєηяє:  drabble, realistic/idol au, foreigner au

ωαяηιηgѕ: none lol

ωσя∂ѕ: 4987

ωяιттєη ву: Skyler

ѕυммαяу: One may argue there is no such thing called ‘luck.’ You would agree, all you wanted was a bag of Sour Neon Worms and nothing else.

The list went on forever. When you rolled out the beige-coloured paper out of your pocket, the list almost hit the bottom of the car and your eyes widened. Hyunbin had written whatever he could on the list, from five different types of coca-cola to the six different types of chocolate. 

“What’s the matter? Why the grumpy face?” Your friend questioned you with a soft chuckle. Without racing your gaze to meet her eyes, you turned the long list around, so she could read it all. She — along with the four other girls Hyunbin sent you to the market with, all laughed out loudly. 

“What can I say, he has no self-control. And besides, Hyunbin was enough of a gentleman to give us his credit card”, your second friend said while she burst out laughing, waving the black credit card Hyunbin gave you to buy all the supplies. 

“But not enough of a gentleman to follow us to the store in this weather?” You mumbled and eyed the grey sky on the outside of the car. Your friend in the passenger seat gave you a soft push, still laughing. “Come on, he needs to fix his apartment. Whatever he meant by that.” 

Hyunbin’s voice rang through your head again; I need to fix my apartment! You girls go, we boys will stay here and clean this place for when you get back! If it was up to you, his apartment was already clean enough. For it to be five girls and six boys inside, including him, it was rather neat inside his apartment. He lived alone, had a high ceiling and different rooms for all of you to a sleepover with. Therefore, the reason that his apartment was dirty was pure lies. He was either going to drink up all the alcohol or have a ‘boys-time’ with the rest of the boys in his apartment. 

“Someone call Hyun, we won’t be able to carry all of this”, you said and nodded to the list one final time. You unbuckled your belt and pulled the hood of your hoodie over your head, to prevent the tiny drops of rain to ruin your hair. “Let’s go, ladies.” 

You all left your black car and took quick steps to the huge supermarket. You wrapped your arms over your chest to prevent the heat from your — Hyunbin’s hoodie, to leave your body. Your black Adidas-leggings felt like a thin piece of paper when you walked in the cold, but you were soon greeted by the warmth of the supermarket on the inside. 

Even at such an hour and at this gloomy weather, the supermarket was surprisingly filled with more people than you anticipated. One of your friends grabbed the red basket to pull behind her; then the shopping started. 

You soon realised it would take too much time this way. If all five of you walked together like this, it would take you hours to get everything on the list Hyunbin wrote. Therefore, you all split up into groups. You and the other girl went to the cold supplies, while the three other girls took a picture of the list and trailed their way. 

“So, you and Hyunie”, your friend winked while elbowing you softly as you made your way to the freezers. “You’re wearing his hoodie, I see.” 

“He’s an idiot”, you answered, which caused your friend to laugh out loudly. “But I have to admit, he is cute.” 

“I think he has a thing for you”, your friend hummed. You hummed back as an answer — a hidden smile formed on your lips. Though you were not interested in Hyunbin that way, it did surely boost your ego when your friend mentioned him liking you. He invited all of to his apartment to celebrate your birthday which passed three months ago, but he had spent a few months in Korea with his father and missed your birthday. He returned only a couple of days ago, and almost immediately wanted to throw a little party for you with your closet friends. 

His gestures always warmed your heart, however, you were uncertain if it was all his Korean humbleness or if there was something else behind his actions. Maybe that’s why he wanted alone time with the boys back at his apartment, to discuss his emotions. 

In the middle of your thoughts, a specific object caught your attention, causing you to to an imitate stop and head twisting completely to the side. Your friend continued walking a couple of steps until she noticed your stop. She turned around and asked you what the matter was, but you left her silent. 

There, down there with exotic colours, a bag of Sour Neon Worms rested. How many years had it been since you ate them? You remembered clearly how much you loved them as a child. Now as an adult, you’d almost forgotten how they tasted like. A wave of nostalgia overpowered you, who were you fooling — you had completely forgotten how they tasted like, and you needed to remember.

“Sour worms”, you said slowly and let your hood slowly glide off your head as you turned back to your friend. “Come on, do you know how many years it has been?! I had no idea they were still in sale, let’s get a bag or two!” 

“I don’t think Hyunbin would approve, it’s his money”, your friend quickly argued. You rose one of your eyebrows and showed her the long list again. 

“He wants us to buy all this and can’t afford a bag sour worms? He won’t even notice we bought them.” Your friend easily gave in — pulling a bad joke how you would need to blow him off if he became mad, but quickly changed her route down the shelves to the package you saw. You squealed the entire way, causing the two men also looking on the candy shelf to give you a side-eye, but you could not be bothered. Your steps increased in size to reach the small bag faster, and you soon reached the shelf-

You could not reach them.

“What... What the fuck!” you cussed and jumped up on the air, your nails brushing against the bag of the colourful candies. “Are you kidding me?!” Your friend caught up with you, but not much to your surprise, she was not able to reach the bag either. 

“What idiot would place kids candy so high?” you hissed and tried jumping again. Just as the first time, you had no luck. There was no chair or anything else near the two of you to reach the bags, they were peacefully resting on the shelf unbothered while you were growing more frustrated. 

Your friend elbowing your ribs caught your attention and caused your jumping to a stop. When you turned to her, you noticed her blue eyes trail past you, down the hallway and to the two men a couple of metres away from the two of you. The same men who eyed you up and down when you squealed. One of them had his back faced you and the other one was snickering underneath the mask he had to cover half of his face, you could point it out by the way wrinkle formed by his eyes. 

The one with his back faced towards you seemed to be at least a head or two taller than you, he could easily grab the package of candy for you. He was dressed in all black, a bucket hat on top of his head and black hair sticking out in a faded undercut.

“They’re Korean”, your friend whispered in your ear. “You know, just like Hyunbin.” 

“Who cares, looks like one of them can reach the shelf.” 

Your friend giggled softly at your determination to get the candy package, who would have thought you were an adult you could drive and smoke, yet the only thing you wanted was a package of sour worms? She remained in place while you made your way up to the Korean men, the one facing you slowly letting his eyes meet yours and his snickering disappearing. 

You gulped down your saliva and placed a hand on the man facing away from you, your entire body stiffening when you felt him stiffen at your touch. Now when you approached him, you could point out he was staring down at his phone and must have blocked out any other sounds coming from around him. He slowly turned around to face you, him being much taller than you and causing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes and, woah. 

To be someone who is quite laid back, the way his round eyes met your caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Unlike the other man, he was not wearing a mask, which flashed you his perfect skin. His lips were in a straight line and a slight frown flashed upon his face when his round eyes met yours. His black FILA shirt hugged his well-toned body tightly; it all even became worse for your heart when he closed his phone and put his hands into the pockets of his black sweatpants. 

‘Oh god, I hope he speaks English’ you thought for yourself. You remembered when you meet Hyunbin’s parents for the first time — their English was close to absent. Luckily for you, you picked up on some Korean and was able to leave a good impression on his parents, but right now you were way too nervous to speak any Korean with this man. You could barely utter out a word in English to him. 

“Do you think you could....” you started, your usually confident voice becoming an octave lower. You twisted your back the slightest bit to point at the candy bag, only two or three metres away from you. “Reach the bag?” His eyes followed your finger and to the bag you were pointing out. Your friend gave an awkward wave with her hand, clearing her throat discreetly. 

He turned around to his friend, who shrugged his shoulders underneath the olive-green jacket, and eventually, he walked up to the shelf. 

His hands easily grabbed the candy-bag, he did not even need to stand on his toes. He turned around and handed you the bag, and you automatically handed it to your friend behind you. “One more, please.” 

“One more?” he repeated this time, his voice way darker than you thought. You nodded your head and he did as he was told, he grabbed onto one more bag and handed you the candy bag. 

“I-I... Thank you”, you managed to stutter out. ‘Damn it, why did I put on a hoodie? I’m dying of heat in here.’ You grabbed onto your hoodie and fluttered it away from your sticking body on the other side. ‘Should I flash him my Korean? Wait, am I even positive he is Korean?! Okay, yeah, his features are quite similar to Hyunbin but... Imagine if he wasn’t. I would die of embarrassment. He seems to understand English, he-’

“They good?” 

His dark and smoothing voice caught you off guard, all your thoughts disappearing into thin air as you blinked your eyes to focus on him. He was holding onto one of the bags in his large palms, his head twisted to the side to meet your eyes.

"Huh?" you found yourself saying at the surprise question you received from him. 

"Are they good?" he then rephrased, wiggling the bag of candies in his hand. His accent was there, he was not a native English speaker, but it was definitely was better than you excepted. Your eyes blinked to the side for a millisecond, your friends’ eyes met yours and she silently told you to answer his question before it became awkward.

"I mean, yeah", you said and stared down at your bag in your hand. "I can't remember how they taste like, it's been ages but... At least I think so." 

"You think so?" the man repeated, more to himself than to you. "Okay, then. I will also try." 

"Do you like sour candy?" 

At your question, he seemed to unsure what to answer. You did not know if it was due to him being uncertain what the word 'sour' meant, or if he was taken back by your answer. He stared at you for a few seconds, his eyes travelling to the man in his company who leaned onto the shelf on the other side. You saw the man dressed in black mouth the word sour to him, to which his friend only answered with yet another shrug. 

Suddenly, his eyes widened and met yours again. "Oh, sour!" he exclaimed, with a slightly different accent when pronouncing the word. "Yes, yes, I like sour! I like candy." 

"You know, I don't really like it but... I remember I used to love these", you chuckled and waved the bag in your hand. The man seemed relaxed now, his thin lips were curved into a soft smile and he twisted his entire body to face you. 

"You don't like? Why?" he questioned. You just shrugged your shoulder with a playful laugh, you simply grew out of it. However, you were not positive if he would answer you if you tried to explain how your taste-buds changed, therefore you simply answered with a shrug. 

The smile on your lips — and his for that reason, fell drastically when you felt a hand tug on your hood from behind. You were pulled back with such a strong force you fell onto the cold ground, the bag in your hand flying and landing by your friends feet. 

Your hand went up to trail the part of your throat where the hoodie almost chocked you and leaned over your shoulder to see a man, probably in his late thirties, also all dressed in black, stomp past and you and up to the Korean guy. The other person, who leaned on the shelf, instantly straightened his back when he noticed the older man coming through. The guy that just helped you stared at you with wide eyes, mouth hanging open as his instincts were to help you up from the floor. 

"No, Jungkook, don't do it. Just ignore her and let's go meet the others." 

He spoke in Korean, but you understood it all. Before anyone could utter out a word, the older man pulled the two away from the scene by grabbing onto their forearms. All three of them disappeared around the corner, their voices fading away the further they walked. 

"Dickhead!" Your friend called loudly after him. She bent down and grabbed the bag which flew from your hands and helped you up on your feet. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. It just caught me by surprise", you said and patted down the dust on your leggings. Jungkook, he said? It rang a bell, maybe one of Hyunbin's friends were named Jungkook, you had an insane amount of deja vús when you heard his name. 'Just ignore her? Asshole. You could have told me to move away and I would have.' You were becoming more bitter the more you thought about it; what if he ruined Hyunbin's hoodie? Or strangled you to death? 

"That Jungkook better be a God or something, why else would he be so protected?" you bitterly joked while fixing your hoodie. 

"He probably is, he looked like on at least", your friend tried to joke, but she did not even earn a chuckle from you in return. Your eyebrows were still narrowed and your lips in a thin line. She could point out you were irritated by the wrinkle forming between your eyebrows. 

"Let's continue with the list, yeah?” she suggested awkwardly. “We've wasted more time than intended." 

"What list- Oh, that's right." 

You pulled the list of supplies out of your pocket again; this was why you were here to begin with. How could you have forgotten, a few minutes spent with a Korean guy and you already forgot what you were supposed to do. 

The two of you silently continued to check out the list, and eventually the three other girls joined you. They wondered why you were so slow — they were finished with all the dry supplies while you still had not filled half of the basket. You simply explained you would tell them everything in the car instead. 

You spotted Jungkook out of the corner of your eye multiple times, each time he was joined by a new Korea guy. It seemed as if this place must be a good place for Koreans, there was not one, two, three of four here but around ten people, all from the same friend-group. You noticed a few walking around with a camera, your interest definitely sparked but you were forced to twist your head the other way. You could afford anymore distractions, they all waited for you back at Hyunbin's parlament. 

"I called Hyunbin, by the way", one of your friends said. "He should be here any minute. We can fill half of the supplies in his car and the other in yours. What do you think?" 

"Sounds good to me", you hummed and checked off the last thing on the entire list. 'Gosh, why do we even need five litres of coca-cola?' you thought for yourself. 'I'm going to need something to hold me awake this entire night.'

"I'll be right back. I'll go grab myself a red-bull", you said. "Start checking out, I'll come join you as soon as possible." "Oh, get one for me to!" your friend called, and soon enough all of them wanted the energy drink. You flipped them off with the middle finger, a sneaky smile on your lips as you separated your way to go back to the cold refrigerators. 

‘I hope I did not end up on camera. I feel like I should know who those guys are... Damn, could they be a part of a drama? What was that drama I watched again... Descendant of the Sun?’ Your thoughts lingered away for a moment, you tried your best to avoid the Korean men in the supermarket in fear of being on camera. You had heard about the crazy things fans could do to anyone getting too close to a celebrity, and you were not about to catch a case with a celebrity you did now even know about. 

Jungkook, was it? 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and googled the name, even after the first three digits his named popped up. You pressed onto the first suggestion that came up and your phone instantly flashed pictures of the same face you spoke to half an hour ago. 

Jeon Jungkook (1997) BTS.

‘What the fuck, BTS? That super famous KPOP band? Nononono, that can’t be it. Their fans are crazyyyy, if that was the case this supermarket would have been flooded by now.’ Your own thoughts went against you as you kept analysing the pictures, no, this had to be him. Everything looked the same, his nose, his eyes, his lips, there were no two ways about it. 

You placed a hand on your stomach as the adrenaline started flowing through your veins. You did know if you were considered lucky or doomed for speaking to him, it somewhat explained why you were tossed away by the older man. The other man you saw, with the olive-green jacket and mask, was called Kim Taehyung. Even though you could not see his entire face, his face structure resembled exactly the same Taehyung had, even the mole on the nose.

Since your head was facing down, you did know notice the muscular body approaching you from the front. You eyes were stuck on the text in front of you, you did not notice until your head bumped into a rather hard chest and forced you to raise your head. 

When you saw him at first, you let out a shriek and instantly closed your phone. You could almost feel the embarrassment flooding through you if he spotted you searching him up on your phone. 

You stood stiff in front of him, giving your eyes one last time to analyse him properly and to be certain this was him. His jawline was tightened, blue veins popping up on the side of his neck down his long-sleeved arm he had pulled up. And yes, that’s where you saw the tattoos. The last thing which confirmed this was the Jungkook you were talking to. 

“I...” he licked his lips as he fumbled with his fingers in front of him. He seemed to have a difficult time to form a sentence, and after a couple of seconds he simply said ‘sorry.’ 

“It’s fine!” you said quickly — almost too quickly. You were so paranoid about obsessive fans or cameras to be around you, you just wanted him to go away. However, he did the opposite. He heard the unnatural tone in your voice and tilted his head softly to the side. 

“You... hurt? Pain?” he questioned, his fingers trailing over his throat — the same spot you were strangled when you were pulled back. 

“No, no, I am fine! See?” You rubbed your palm against the sore spot on your throat, during the past thirty minutes the pain suggestively disappeared, you could barely feel it now. “I gotta go, thank you for worrying-” 

As you tried to walk past Jungkook’s colossal body, he grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you with him between two shelves, 

If that was any other guy, you would have thrown a fist in his face and stomped away. But knowing who he was, knowing what he was capable of doing, you obeyed as he pulled pressed your back against a shelf. He stood a few steps away from you, his eyes eyeing you up and down. His eyes left burning marks across your body, why did you come in a hoodie and leggings? 

“Are you... scare?” he spoke out slowly. If you were not scared from earlier, you definitely were now. 

“Who, me?” You questioned and he nodded. “N-no, why would I be scared?” 

“Hyung, he didn’t want you to hurt. He...was...protect — protecting, me.” 

“I know”, you answered. The older man must have been his bodyguard of some kind, knowing how many fans BTS have you did not blame him. Jungkook cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing gently towards you. “You... know?” 

“I didn’t mean to bother you. I am short and you know, you are tall, the candy was in a high place but maybe I should not have bothered you. I don’t blame you.” 

Jungkook blinked his eyes, his brain probably picking up what you were saying and translating it into Korean. He stood still for a few seconds, one hand inside his pocket while the other hung loosely from his side. He made sure there was no one in the hallway the two of you stood in, before he took yet another step closer to you. 

“You no bother me.” His voice came out soft as a dance on roses, your chest rising together with his voice. Where were your friends? They must awkwardly stand up the check-out now, waiting for you to return with the red-bull. However, at this very moment, you could not even bother to think about your friends. You stood quiet and let Jungkook continue. 

Jungkook seemed to hesitate, he took a deep breath in and his eyes stared at you with words he was not able to say. “You look like angel”, he began to say slowly, his features open as he twisted the bucket hat on top of his head. “I was happy, when you came to me. I’ve been practising English, you know? I wanted to know you... better. But you seemed mad at me. Avoided me.” 

Your brain could truly not grasp what was going on. Jungkook called you an angel — which you certainly did not agree on when you were dressed like this, and he wanted to get to know you. You. You could not even imagine all the girls and boys who would have died to be in this position you were in now, you had no idea who he was until you googled him. Maybe destiny choose the wrong person? Or it could be the other way around, you had no idea.

“No, I’m not mad. I was just busy, look.” You pulled out the long list of supplies from your pocket, Jungkook’s eyes followed it as it folded out and a soft laugh left his lips. His laughter made your heart skip a beat, it was genuine, he was not trying to force it. 

“Okay, I see. Very good. Then, your name?” 

By now, you had thanked whoever controlled your fate from above to put you in this situation. You happily told him your name and extended your arm for him to shake, though you were aware of the different traditions they had in Korea. Jungkook, being the gentleman that he is, did not leave you hanging and shook your hand back. His hand was larger than yours by far, his fingers met on the other side and he let out another laugh. 

“You are small!” he said while laughing. “It is good. Not bad, it is very good.” 

“And you are... big”, you clapped back playfully and tapped his stone-hard chest lightly. You instantly spotted how your gestures boosted his ego — his manliness, and his muscles flexed underneath your fingertips. He tilted his head to the side playfully, a grin forming on his lips as the hand on his bucket hand trailed down to place on top of your hand.

The sound of your panicked friends calling your name ruined the moment for the two of you, they must have been waiting for you by the cashier now. You could almost feel the anxiety they must have while waiting for you, which was why you flashed Jungkook your last smile before jogging away. Jungkook wanted to call after you, when your body touched him his entire body heated up instantly, as if you had a magic effect on him. He patted down his sweatpants and pulled his shirt over his hipbones before he slowly made his way to reunite with his group, somewhat planning out  an idea to convince Namjoon to get your phone number. 

“Where are the drinks?!” your friend shirked once you made it to the cashier. You only grinned at her, a grin which spoke more than a thousand words, and it silenced her in a second. You paid for everything, even the bag of sour worms, and went to place everything into plastic bags. However, you noticed all the supplies were already placed in plastic bags, held by none other than Hyunbin himself. Hyunbin had a black shirt on, stuffed into his skinny jeans and a beanie covering his ears.

“My, my, looks who finally made it”, you teased. “Told you it was a bit too much, yeah?” Since his hands were occupied, you placed his credit card in his pocket for him. 

“Let’s get to the cars, I don’t know how I feel with five guys staying in my apartment with my alcohol”, Hyunbin answered with a small smile, his dimples forming as he did so. 

As all of you start to walk, you and Hyunbin walk last. Hyunbin had a hard time to balance the two filled bags while you kept glancing over your shoulder, waiting for something to happen. You could not leave like this, not after you had the greatest luck you ever had in your life. 

Jungkook did not think so either. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a black dot make its way towards the two of you. You stopped in your tracks; and in return, so did Hyunbin. 

Jungkook jogged up to the two of you, his face almost lit up when he spotted another fellow Korean he could converse with. He started speaking Korean to Hyunbin, most of it was understandable for you. He explained what had happened — the sour candy, and Hyunbin was smiling and chuckling. 

They spoke for a few minutes; it all ended with Hyunbin agreeing to something and Jungkook flashing him the biggest smile he had ever had. Then, Jungkook turned to you and his smile increased. “Beautiful”, he said, causing your pulse to start beating faster. “I am lucky. Wait here, I come quick.” 

Jungkook twisted his body and ran away from the scene, up to his camera crew where he was most probably going to ask something. You snapped your head to the side, where Hyunbin’s gaze met yours and he smiled towards you. 

“That’s Jungkook from BTS”, Hyunbin said, and you answered with a nod. You were already aware. 

“What did you two talk about?” you asked. You did not understand it all, the two of them were both native speakers and they spoke much faster than you were used to hearing. 

Hyunbin snickered at you. “Long story short, he’s joying us for the little party in my apartment.” 

Your smile of happiness grew bigger as your eyes found Jungkook’s body again. he seemed eager, he could not stand in place when he spoke to the rest of his crew what he wanted to do. 

“Oh and by the way...” 

Your eyes trailed to Hyunbin from the corner of your eye as he spoke. “I didn't put Sour Neon Worms on the list.”

“Shut the fuck up, Hyunbin.” 

#you know how hard this was for me to write since i speak korean lol #pro tip from me #who dated a 23 year old #boost his manliness #1st of september #kinda what i did now lol #admin sky #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x foreigner #bts foreigner #bts idol au #bts realistic au #bts audios #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts english #bts drabble #bts fluff #jungkook birthday

[fa-by]

Hi babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 Back with a new 'Q&A' post. Enjoy 🙃

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and yes, I did. You can find it here, dear: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648192029691691008/camren-timeline-tittle-edited.

Yes, I heard about that rumor, dear Anon, and veeery false.

I knoooow 😍😍😍 Let's cry in joy and queerness 🥺😭🌈🏳‍🌈

Yep, dear Anon. And unfortunately for us, they will continue to do so for a veeeery long time 😒🙄😔

No, dear Anon, I highly doubt it's another duet. They'd be really, but really stupid if they do 🤦🏻‍♀‍

No, dear Anon, these are just people who want attention. People who have problems in their lives and talk shit about others to feel better. This is just the work of those people who believe in black magic and want to involve as many people as possible to think like them, and if they fail, they attack you because you didn't agree with them and you didn't go to their side. They can get so desperate they even get to the point of, oh I don't know, since you've blocked them, sending an anonymous ask to your girlfriend with a death wish for you:

The funny thing for me besides thinking that maybe this person believes they're a witch and imagining them with a voodoo doll with a needle in my stomach, is that I was kind to them the first time 🤷🏻‍♀‍ I tried to make them reason, I really tried to meet them halfway, but sometimes that's not enough with people like that.

But anyway. My point is that no, management has nothing to do with it. Thank you for your ask, dear 🤗

It's okay, dear Anon, don't worry 😄 In last time’s ask you wanted my opinion on the song, right? Well, Not Killin' It Today simply talks about how not every day is a good day. It can happen to all of us not to feel 100%, and Mila says just that. For us girls it can happen even more during or just before the red sea period, if you know what I mean, and indeed, she herself sings “I'm PMSing” = PMS: premenstrual syndrome. If that's why, I think she wrote this song precisely around that period 🤣

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Don't worry, dear, I can understand you, and if I hadn't, we would have found a way to do it. English is not my first language either.

1) Yes, I do think that.

2) (I knew all this) I know she did; she's been doing it for years if that's why because Taylor is one of Camila's mentors. Taylor is what can be defined as the celebrity master with PRs. She’s always done what she was asked to do and she’s always fulfilled her PRs duties of her contracts, and indeed, look where she is now, as well as being a great songwriter. So yeah, who better than her?

Hope you're great too, dear 🤗

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 I'm sorry I'm bad with general questions like this 😅 I'm so much better when I'm asked a more specific question, and usually, when I have something in mind, I write it and create a post with my opinion about it. I'm not kidding about how bad I am at this, believe me. It’s the same thing as when I get the typical “tell me something about yourself” phrase. It's like my brain suddenly switches off 😅🤣 Can you take a look at all my posts from my archive to see which ones I’ve already responded to and maybe come back with a question? I'm really sorry, dear 😖🥺

I'm sorry but Camila can't stop anything, dear Anon. Not Camila, not Roger, and not even Shoo. I understand your frustration, believe me, I do, but you, and anyone else to which this is still not clear, need to understand that it's a contract. A contract called a relationship contract, and it's a legally binding document. I know it's hard, but the advice I can give you is to ignore the 12-year-old SS and their fantasies, and wait for it to finish without wasting your energy on the bullshit they say. Don't let them get to you and unleash your anger. You make them win this way. Rather, have a laugh at their ignorance.

Hey dear Anon, I'm good, thanks, and I hope you're doing well too 😊 They broke up for a little while, for about a month before, so more than a breakup I would call it a little break. And to answer the rest of your questions, dear, I'll sum it all up by telling you that when they're not together, or they're on a break, they have a different way of acting than when they're together. And I speak in general. It shows in the way they behave in general. Now it's much harder to see since they're no longer in the group and you could clearly see when it happened, and it’s also hard since the pandemic, but there are patterns. I’ve spent so much time analyzing them that they're quite predictable in my eyes 🤣 Forgive me if I'm not going into details, but these are personal observations that not everyone can agree on, you know? Maybe I'll do it in the future, who knows 🤷🏻‍♀‍ We'll see 😉 Have a good day/night too 😄

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼 and thank you very much 😄 and yes, of course. To answer the rest of your questions, I'll summarize everything by telling you that you have to take into account that I entered the fandom at the Work from Home's time, so they were all just rumors to me initially. Camren themselves were just a rumor to me. I had to search, analyze, and find the proofs on my own to prove to myself which ones were true or not. The first example that comes to mind and that I can give you is the kiss in the van in London that I recently explained in my ‘Inauguration’ post.

I'm sorry you think this way, dear Anon. I honestly think she doesn't even know. She has said many times that she tries to stay away from social media, and I really believe that. She did it before already, but I'm convinced that she does that even more since she was going through that bad time and she was about to give it all up. Besides, it's known that she doesn't manage her accounts, just as it's known that she doesn't even control how they’re used I would say 90% of the time. I don't know if she'll find out and eventually will say something about it. We don't even know if she has the freedom to do so. So, I'm really sorry you're making a decision based on something she didn't do.

Hey to you too, dear Anon 😄 Yeah, it's nothing new. I'd already debunked the whole Laucy story with my very first post (https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648191757219250176/there-is-a-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel), so as far as I'm concerned, she can say what she wants in future podcasts/interviews as well, but she'll never be able to convince me that she's not actually talking about Camila. This was simply a much more chill, fun, with no tears, and no mention of Camila repetition. The first podcast served to plant the seed. We know that Lucy is her main narrative and we know that she will continue to use her for a very long time. I mean, it’s convenient for her. It's the perfect cover for our Mila. But if people want to keep believing they (Laucy) were real, that's honestly their problem 🤣 Let them be convinced of their beliefs, dear, and have a laugh 😉

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Here's the thing……… Yes, to everything you said 🤣 but let me explain why.

1&2) Yes, Laur is like ‘part’ of their contract but for simple narrative, as you yourself said too. If that's why, so are 5H and all the rest of the people who are or have been involved with them. I'll give you an example. You know the bullshit they said about the Austin Mahone tour? That Sunsilk was always isolated in his bus playing guitar? That no one spoke to him outside of Camila when there are actually plenty of videos showing him spending time with the rest of 5H and the other people on the tour too? Certainly none of those people can call him out on that bullshit today and say it wasn't true. They'd blow his cover. They'd make him not credible in the general public's eyes. So everyone needs to be quiet for what they know (that's how it works in that world for every damn thing), and that's Lauren's involvement in their PR. Be quiet. Be quiet and go along with the game. Just as Camila had to during hers with Tymbal.

3) They have to, dear, or all the farces told so far would go to shit for the GP too. 4) 100%, dear Anon, 100% 😏😉 but it must also be said that they'll remain connected forever anyway because of the group.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Welcome and thank you very much 🤗

1) Everything she's been doing lately leads us to think that the first single for the EP will arrive shortly. I think and hope it will arrive for the summer, but as far as the actual EP is concerned, it will depend on the release of the single. So if the single is out this summer, it's very likely that the EP will follow its course by arriving towards the beginning of autumn. We'll see, dear, we'll see 🤞🏼 🤞🏼 🤞🏼

2) I know that many people get upset and that they're disappointed, and while I too would like her to interact with us more, I also know and understand that it's not just up to her. Although she's much but much freer than before, she still has contracts, people, and patterns to follow.

Take it from someone who's waiting for Rihanna's new album for 5 years 😅🤣 It takes patience, and I have a lot of patience, dear. I fall into the category of those who don't mind waiting simply because I'll always support Lauren.

People forget this: we have to consider ourselves lucky that after what she went through, she decided to pursue with music.

If you love her, if you stan her, then be patient. Stay metaphorically speaking by her side no matter what. That’s what I think, dear Anon.

Do you mean the first breakup they had that lasted from late November 2014 to late December/very first days of January 2015, or do you mean the bad one that took place in October 2015? But in any case, both of your questions rejoin only one event, dear Anon: the real breakup of the group that happened in mid-October 2015. But answering you more specifically:

1) You can see with your own eyes the videos of the interviews of that period by starting with this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WqOb9qBQ_M&t=11s.

2) Camila’s unofficial departure from the group at the time was the icing on the cake, but you have to consider a lot of things, dear. The fact that they were young. The fact that they were in the spotlight and were being monitored by both fans and management. The fact that they had those same people controlling them and telling them what to do all the time. The fact that they were constantly under pressure. The fact that they couldn't be together freely as a couple. The fact that they were forced to pretend they didn't love each other. The fact that they were forced to do PRs, despite being much lighter than now. I could go on with the list, dear Anon, but I think you get the point. It's a lot of stress and a lot to digest, especially considering how young they were and the environment around them.

Have a nice day too, dear 😄

Of course I can answer you, dear Anon 😊 So, in my opinion, and always keep in mind that I could be wrong, she told every person in her clique at different times. I think Mila knew about her attraction to girls back in school, but she didn't say anything to anyone because she didn't have a reason to. In the sense that she hasn't had the opportunity to approach another girl and therefore have a reason to tell someone about her queerness. After her first kiss with Lauren on New Year's Eve, I'm willing to bet that the first person she came out to was her mom. Camila's number one best friend is and always has been Sinu, so I can feel it in my bones that she was the first one to know. Oh and, we're in early 2013 here, so Mila was still 15.

After Sinu, there were the girls (DNA) who obviously lived their story with them step by step and therefore I don't think it was a real coming out with them, and her best friends back at home, Sandra and Marielle Guzman (and maybe also Mariana Luna since she was the other one with whom she was very close immediately after the two sisters, but I'm not very convinced of it), and Jenny Runza, who despite being a little younger than Sinu, Mila has always regarded as one of her best friends.

In 2014, when Camren were official, there were more confirmations that led to her automatic coming out with the rest of her clique's friends since the word Camren had already spread around like wildfire for almost two years by then.

At the beginning of 2015, it was the moment when Laur came out to her family, so I strongly believe that that was also Alejandro's moment, although I'm convinced that like the Jaureguis, Ale knew about his daughter all along and that he was even more convinced at X-Factor. Sofi was last on the list simply for a matter of age and I'm talking about 2017. I can't tell you when she told her grandpas. I don't even know if she could have told Norberto because I don't know the kind of relationship she has with him, but Mercedes? Well, abuelita certainly knew this before 2018 because I laugh when I think about the way she looked and talked with Mattress during their PR.

It's not that simple, dear Anon. You're not considering the fact that they didn't communicate during that time. You're dwelling on only one thing and are not looking at the big picture of their relationship at the time. Okay. Let's do something. Picture a scenario that has nothing to do with Camren.

Picture a couple living together. A couple who often quarrel over even the most trivial things or who don't talk at all because they almost avoid each other. Their relationship is very unstable and they're basically at the end of it. Now picture a conversation between this couple in which the only exchanges spoken in a normal way are by then just daily information such as: “I'll be at work from 8 to 4” - “Okay. Will you come home right after?” - “Yeah, I think so” - and then that person comes home at 6 pm despite the worried calls and messages received.

They're so distant that the person who came home late didn't feel compelled to pick up the phone and tell them about the delay. Probably that person didn't even feel compelled to give an explanation and justify the delay once they got home because they're convinced that their partner doesn't really care and that they're just looking for yet another excuse to argue. That person will have felt even more trapped and suffocated by their partner who was really worried instead, but neither of them tells the other the truth because they're too busy arguing and blaming each other instead of meeting each other halfway and really talking about what they feel and makes them vulnerable. They will surely end up in bed with their backs to each other without saying a word to each other after the fight.

Now look at these phrases from the song itself and put Camren's faces in place of the couple in the example: “With no confrontation, I really wish we could talk about it instead” – “All I need from your side is for you to communicate”. Is it easier for you to understand the dynamic now, dear?

Hello to you too @camilalauren0327 👋🏼😄 [why can't I ever tag you in posts?]

No, no, no, dear. None of this happens. So. I'd like to start by saying that OCD begins when people misunderstand their own thoughts. We've all had unwelcome and intrusive thoughts at least once in our lives, right? Well, the importance of those thoughts becomes much more intense or sometimes even extreme for people with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Like, I'll give you a stupid example, okay?

Most of the time I park, I lock the car, and after I’ve taken a couple of steps, I ask myself: “Ma ho chiuso la macchina?” / “Did I lock the car?”. So, I turn around and lock it again with the keys' remote control even though I've already done it, but I do that anyway to be sure and because maybe I really didn't do it because it happened for real. Now. What would a person with OCD do? Most likely they would do like me, and after getting halfway, they would go back again to close it AGAIN. They would do it a couple of times, and most likely, they would do it a third time after they got home. They would leave the house to go lock the car they've already locked five times.

OCD can begin in adolescence, early adulthood, or even childhood. The onset of obsessive-compulsive disorder is typically gradual, but in some cases, it can begin suddenly. Symptoms vary in severity from time to time and this variation may be related to the occurrence of stressful events. Now. Doesn't all this rings a bell for you? No? Okay, let me explain. I'll copy a piece of my ‘Camren Timeline (Tittle edited)’ post for you: “Camila suffers from one of the variants of OCD since she was 8, and despite seeing a therapist since 2013, her OCD was diagnosed at the end of 2015. C also suffers from anxiety, panic attacks, mood disorders, and depression (all linked to her OCD).”

Why did she start suffering from it at the age of 8? Because little Mila moved back and forth between Havana and Mexico City until she was 5, almost 6, right? After that, she moved to Miami with her mom by leaving behind her family, her friends, basically everything she knew, and her dad. Her dad finally managed to rejoin them almost two years later when she was almost 8 years old. Although she had her family with her again, her little mind didn't relax. It didn’t bring peace to her. In fact, that sprang her first OCD symptoms, which gradually worsened and then fully erupted years later in the group.

What triggers OCD? Stressful life events.

Got it now? Were you able to put the pieces together, dear? I've also answered other questions on the same topic here if it may interest you: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648194918161989633/%C9%9F.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Don't worry, nobody’s asked me to do it yet.

So, as I think we all know, The Boy was originally titled Care About Me. Ed Sheeran wrote it and gave it to Mila for her self-titled album Camila. Mila almost completely rewrote it (Ed said 90% of it) and lastly discarded it because it didn't fit well with the rest of the songs on the album, and I totally understand that.

Intro:

“Yeah, he's messed up a couple times

But he's my glass of cherry wine

And I drink and I drink 'til I'm drunk off of him

I'm in love

(Ash:) He just hit me up to come over

He said what?”

So. The song begins with Mila trying to justify the boy by saying that even though he made mistakes, she's so into him to get past it. I know she used terms like drunk off of him and in love, but she doesn't mean that she's actually in love with him in this case. Just very into him. She's jokingly explaining the situation because she's talking to Ashlee, her friend, and I don't know about you, but my friends and I often use the term in love to make people laugh and to indicate interest in someone.

Like if we see someone for the first time and they're really hot, or if one of the celebrities we like posts like a selfie, we say “I'm in love”. Or, like, another kind of example: one of my best friends has been dating this guy for a few months, and last week he surprised her with some flowers (which he paid very much by the way) and with dinner just because. Hearing her happiness since she has always had only assholes so far, when she finished telling me everything, I made fun of her by laughing and saying: “Lost in love, huh?”. Not because she's actually in love with him, but because it was such a nice thing and she's into him.

So Mila used those phrases to indicate how much she liked him and not because she was actually in love. Also because if she had really been in love with him, she wouldn't have said she didn't care about him for the rest of the song.

Then ‘Ash’ receives the text, and this leads us to understand that the boy is a player and a cheater.

Verse 1:

“Momma said, ‘Always be kind, girl’ (Girl, what's on your mind?)

But I got something I should say (Say it, girl), uh

Boy, I'm sick and done and tired (There's something on my mind)

I'm not yours to manipulate, uh-huh (Tell him girl, tell hi)”

It explains itself quite well. She can't take it anymore.

Pre-Chorus:

“Oh boy, hold your tongue, I don't want no 'pology

‘Cause we both know you're thinking wit' was under your jeans”

Mila tells him not to waste his breath on justifications derived from his member because she doesn't need them. Tsk, Tsk. Typical male behavior. 80% of their thoughts are formulated based on how and where to put their tool in 🙄

“Sent your friends over to tell them you're missing me”

He even sends his friends to her to try to change her mind, but:

“But I don't care, so tell that boy that I am fine”

But she doesn't care. She doesn't care because she's fine this way. In fact, she's better off without him.

Chorus:

“I don't care about the day he decided to leave

I won't be there when he tells another lie so”

This makes us understand how many times she's had to forgive his bullshit.

“I'm gon' use all of my words for weapons”

We know how lethal words can be.

“'Cause the boy don't care about me, lemme say it again, now, babe

I don't care about the way he thinks it's so sweet (Ah)

All that sugar cone gon' be bad for me tomorrow (Ah)”

He can try to kiss her ass as much as he wants, but she won't change her mind. Talking sweet to try to win her back doesn't work because she doesn't want to deal with a player who lies to her and messes up every time.

“I'm gon' use all of my words for weapons

'Cause the boy don't care about me”

He doesn't really care about her, so it's even useless to her that he tries to fix it.

Verse 2:

“All my girls inside the place now (Say we don't need no man)

No wonder we switch sides sometimes (We got this)”

Camilita, Camilita, Camilita 😏 No wonder many girls prefer other girls, huh?

Switching sides can mean switching sides in the true sense of the word, that is for example going from one side of a room to the other. It can mean changing your mind about something or someone. And, most interesting of all in this case, it can mean switching sides in sexual orientation.

I've said many times that she's a fucking genius, and we know how sneaky she is with her songs. She was really smart at using this hidden meaning because a lot of people took it for granted that she meant the meaning of changing her mind since we girls have this nomination about often changing our minds about something.

“Wipe that good look off your face (Say we got better plans)

Ooh, you better not act surprised (For real)”

Exactly. What would be the point? A lot of guys do that 🙄

Bridge:

“Oh, oh, don't care about me

That's fine with me, babe

You don't care about me

And that's fine with me

Fine with me, fine with me (Don't care about)

It is what I need, oh (That's fine with)

Don't care about, care about

Care about, care about me, oh”

She's fine with it simply because she doesn't care about him either.

Outro:

(Ash:) “Girl, that's old, we're done with that”

Yep. She's definitely done with that/him.

And this is my interpretation, dear Anon 😄 In my opinion, if this song really ended up on the self-titled, it would've been used to give yet another proof of her light, old PR with Michael. People were supposed to remember her last, sure, Jan, flame before meeting the love guru Matrix. It was supposed to be like: “Hey, hey, guys, I'm straight, look! I was with a boy and now with another grandpa one!”.

It's just a different version of the Cinderella song for me: she doesn't need a guy in her life. Don't wrap your head around it too much, dear Anon. There's no deep meaning behind it at all. After all, this song was given to her by her idol, and she certainly couldn't refuse. She changed it in a sassy and fun way, she saw that she couldn't fit it with the others because it wouldn't have made sense, and she then discarded it. The end. She was like: it was funny, but I actually have a story to tell. Bye-bye.

Have a good day too, dear ❤️

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and yes of course I can do both, but for what purpose am I supposed to do All Again? I mean, I can give you my interpretation of that song without any problem, but it wasn't written by them. By none of them five. That's why I'm asking you for what purpose am I supposed to do that. And that should answer your second question as well. Like No Way and many other songs, the girls may have related to them, but they didn't write them. The only songs they wrote, and not alone but with other songwriters, are:

- Me & My Girls, Don't Wanna Dance Alone, and Who Are You for Better Together,

- All in My Head (Flex) for 7/27,

- and for the self-titled album we have Sauced Up: Arlen (+ other songwriters), Make You Mad: Normally (+ other songwriters), Lonely Night: Norminah (+ other songwriters), Messy: Normally (+ other songwriters), and Bridget: Alren (+ other songwriters).

It's like you ask me to give you my interpretation on for example Who Are You. I could do it without a problem, but that song was written by 8 different heads. With the exception of the bridge that we know Lauren wrote, I can't tell you who among Camila, Dinah, Normani, Ally, Julian Bunetta, PJ Bianco, and Nasri Atweh wrote which part. Analyzing a song sung by a single artist/songwriter is completely different because the idea and concept and feelings are based on a single person. The songwriters who co-write the song together with the artist adapt to them, or maybe the idea comes to one of them, but they modify the concept together with the artist based on their personal experience, as happened for example with Consequences.

Now that you know all this, do you still want me to analyze All Again? Let me know 😄

Let's move on to More Than That.

Lauren wrote four songs in 2016, two of them were meant to be for someone else, but one of them, as we all know well, she kept it to herself. She decided to keep More Than That to herself once she modified the original lyrics along with Prince Charlez and SoundzFire, aka Hue Wayne Strother.

Intro:

“M-M-M-Murda”

This small part of the initial effect intro we hear, is simply a shoutout to Murda Beatz, one of the two producers of the song.

Verse 1:

“I see you watching so I walked into your stare

'Cause I ain't in the position to be walking over there”

She's not in the position to go there simply because she's taken, but she likes to be watched. She likes the attention she's receiving, so she puts herself in plain sight so that this person can keep looking at her.

“I got a situation, I can tell you wanna know”

This guy must have wondered: ‘Why if she's looking back at me, then she won't approach me? Is she someone who likes playing hard to get? Is she a teasing sort? Is she waiting for me to go to her? Or maybe she's in a relationship?’ Typical questions you ask yourself in that situation, and Laur summarized them all in one simple sentence.

“How you can take an honest girl and turn her to a …

If I'ma take a gamble, then you better come correct

I need more than them diamonds that you got around your neck

Shit, anybody can flex, my baby do it best

If you come with somethin' better, then we might just take it there”

The stare, the fact that this guy has the money (diamond necklace), the physical appearance, are not enough for her to push her to cheat. Because if she has to take the risk of cheating, these are certainly not the things that would drive her to do it, but she could if he had something better to offer her. [And with that, please keep in mind that Lauren is a very loyal person and that she wouldn't have done it even if this guy had gone with something better]

Pre-Chrous:

“I know I ain't right for tempting you

But I just wanna see what you would do

If I gave you a taste of what I do

Just remember that I don't belong to you”

The fact that she returned his gaze, that she spoke to him and gave him just a little taste, doesn't mean that she’s no longer taken. As I said before, she likes the attention, and although she knows that it's wrong to instigate him, she does it anyway because she's playing with him. “It's kind of more like clowning him” as she said herself.

Chrous:

“You gon' have to come stronger than this liquor

Wanna take me home, better be more convincing

It'll take more than that to get to me

More than that to get your way

Boy, you better come stronger than this liquor

Wanna take me home, better be more convincing

It'll take more than that to get to me

More than that to get your way

I'm stronger than this liquor”

During the approach in which the guy tried to ‘take her home’ for the night, Lauren easily manages to reject him despite being drunk, because her loyalty is stronger than the attraction she may have felt for him and certainly stronger than what she was drinking.

Verse 2:

“If my man notice, there’ll be some issues”

🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣

I'm sorry but every time I listen to this part I can literally picture Camila turning into the Incredible Hulk as we've seen many times. And shit, despite her being tiny, Mila can be scary when she's pissed off.

“But take my number down, I just might hit you

No, I'm just playing, I'm so deep in love

But the way you talkin' might just have me actin' up”

Drunken thoughts mixed with attraction/arousal blocked by common sense and loyalty.

“The way you looking at me, boy, I know what's up

I can feel how you feel without even a touch”

Let's not fool ourselves, guys. You too will have felt when a person is ready to jump your bones. To feel it in the air. To perceive it from the way they look at you, talk to you, and yes, even using excuses to innocently touch for example your arm even if the intentions are far from innocent. These kinds of things, whether you're in a relationship or not, whether you're loyal or not, and especially if you're attracted to the person in question, make you feel appreciated. They make you feel good. But:

“But don't think that's gon' make me give it up

Boy, your time is up”

But that doesn't mean, however, that you take action on it. It doesn't mean you give in to temptation. It was nice, but no thanks. Bye-bye.

Outro:

“It'll take more”

It takes more than good looks, money, and fake, shiny people from L.A.

And that's it, dear Anon 🙃 This is just a funny song about a situation that happened in a club, in which Lauren shows her flirtatious side but also her loyal side. It wasn't that good for her image, but I have an explanation for that as well.

Remember how I initially said that Lauren wrote this song to give it to someone else and then decided to keep it for herself after modifying the original lyrics? Well, in my opinion, she ‘decided to keep it’ and was even chosen as a single, simply for the narrative. It was chosen to go along with the fake love square cheating bullshit [Lauren and Ty who cheated on Lucy and Alycia to be together]. People should have believed even more that Lauren was a person capable of cheating, and this song served the purpose.

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I'm done 😜 I hope I was helpful in this case too 😄 Thank you all for your asks and as usual, know that I'm available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😊

Always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

[billyspotato]

Visiting Day [Part 1]- Eric Coulter

Words: 2.872 words

Type: Angst (with Y/N’s family) & Fluff

Summary:  Your family doesn’t show up to your visiting day, but they show up to your sibling’s, 2 years later.

Warning: English is not my first language. Sorry if I misspelled something. Favoritism towards younger sibling.

(I really couldn’t remember if there was a specific name for the day the families visited their kids in Dauntless [deleted scene of the movie], but yeah, I called it Visiting Day)

[Part 1]    [Part 2]

A/N: Gif’s not mine :)

You had joined Dauntless 2 years ago, and you don’t regret it one bit. The first few days were hard, and you were sore all the time, but you’re sure that that made you become stronger (physically and mentally) only because of the extreme training.

After beginning some sort of friendship with the rude leader Eric, he made sure to make/force you into training afterhours. Something you sure hated in the beginning but not so much now because it made you top of the leaderboard.

Now, you’re a Dauntless leader. Working side by side with your (now) boyfriend of almost 2 years. And being absolutely one of the most hardworking leaders but also one of the most demanding when it comes to the initiates, something people believe it’s Eric’s influence.

You have a sibling, a sister. She is younger than you by 2 years and today was the day of the choosing ceremony.

This year, since you’ll be working with the initiates with Four and Eric and there was a possibility of your sister choosing Dauntless, Max kept updating you on what he knew and making sure that you’d be one of the firsts to know what your sister had chosen as a faction.

The morning of the ceremony, Eric kept looking at you worried. You trained that morning, like always, but today, you refused to eat almost everything. Anxiety kept eating you inside and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Once you were all done with eating, the leaders and trainers were called to a meeting just to go over the rules like every year. You played with a pen while Max talked, and the other leaders kept nodding at his words.

The meeting was over before you knew it. Eric, which was sitting beside you, got up and looked down at you.

“You can leave, Eric. I need to talk to Y/N” Max says, and Eric looks over at him.

His hand squeezes your shoulder slightly and you held it before he had to step away and leave. You sigh and look over at Max.

“Your sister has chosen a faction” He starts right as the door of the meeting room closes.

“And?” You ask, hating the suspense.

“She chose Dauntless” He says, and your breath gets stuck to your throat. “I’m sure you know what you need to do”

“Yeah, I know” You say still in some type of shock. “I just… How am I going to do it?”

“You’re not the first leader to go through this, you’re going to find a way” He assures you, making you sigh, letting out the air that you were.

You stand up and grab your leather jacket from your chair before walking over to the door.

“If you ever need to step out of training this year-” Max starts and you chuckle.

“I know” You say while opening the door.

Once you close the door, Eric, who is leaning on the wall right next to it, looks over at you and tries to read your expression.

“So?” He asks.

“She chose Dauntless” You tell him, and he scoffs.

“Well, guess our next few months will be interesting” He jokes, and you can’t help but give him a small smile.

You two start walking down the stairs while talking about whatever just happened in that meeting. But your mind is still occupied with what you have to do from now on.

Max rules, when it comes to having a sibling of a Dauntless member as a initiate, were simple: (1) act like you don’t know him/her during their training; and (2) if you’re a leader or trainer do not give them an advantage – if so, you’ll lose your title or more.

You get to the group of trainers and leaders and once they notice that you and Eric got there, everyone starts planning how today will go. Eric will be on the top of the building, like every year, but he’ll need a few more people (which was decided on being some trainers). Now down here, Four will stay by the net and later take care of the initiates that transferred; while you, will stay with the dauntless-borns.

“They must be getting here in a few minutes” a leader says, and everyone nods.

You and Eric share a kiss before he runs up the stairs with everyone else and you go stand and make conversation with Four.

It didn’t take long for the first jumper to fall into the net but the thought of seeing your sister didn’t leave your mind. But what if she didn’t make it to the train or didn’t make the jump to the building?

You stand next to the group of jumpers in silence and you can feel their eyes on you. People literally can just look at you and notice that you hold some kind of power over them. From your expression to your posture, everything screams leader.

The expression on your face stays serious while more and more teenagers walked beside you after coming down from the black net. You look over at Four and as he helps a girl out of the net, you notice the same colored hair as yours and her clothes, which are from your past faction.

She’s here. She made it to the train and was able to make the jump over here.

She turns away from Four as he points over at you and she walks over to the group of transfers. You look to the ground as she doesn’t notice you and you almost sigh in relief.

After some minutes, you couldn’t help but feel impatient with the long process of the jumping. Transfers surprisingly come down faster than the Dauntless-borns, who usually can be pushed down by Eric, but damn, they take too long.

Once the last one jumps down, Four walks over to you and starts doing the speech he regularly does to initiates.

“Transfers, you stay with me. Dauntless-borns, you go with Y/N” Four says and your sister’s eyes try to find you as she hears Four’s words.

You give a small smile to the familiar faces in the Dauntless-borns and some of them return. You start walking out with the somewhat big group of Dauntless-borns behind you and you listen to some of the whispering about what they decided on doing later tonight to celebrate.

You walk in the room that the initiates will be staying for the next 10 weeks and they all groan behind you. It’s identical to the transfers’ one.

This is going to be fun.

(…)

It’s been a few days, and you’ve been literally running away from your sister and some kind of confrontation coming from her. Training with the transfers has been mostly made by Eric and Four, since you specialize on the ‘more advanced’ fighting and sometimes, the guns, so it has been pretty easy keep your distance from her.

Today was the vising day. The only day that the parents of the transfers come and visit their kids for one last time, just to, in some way, motivate them to keep fighting or do the actual opposite and make them want to go home.

Two years ago, your parents didn’t appear, even after promising they would respect your choice and results of the aptitude test. You saw everyone hug their beloved family members while you stood there and just ignored all the emotions you felt in that hour.

That was until Eric pulled you over to the side and started a conversation with you, making up stories in his mind just to make you laugh at how ridiculous they were. Your friendship began that day, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

It is planned that you start training with the initiates today and actually make them start fighting; and only then, after lunch, their families would their appearance.

Eric throws you to the padded floor and you let out tired laugh.

“I hate you” You say as Eric smiles.

Training with Eric was always fun to you. He, most of the time, wouldn’t go easy on you. You were able to make him fall into the ground many times when fighting, but not as many as he made you. And that always annoyed you.

Eric stretches his hand in your direction, and you grab it. He pulls you up and the initiates start making their way to the center of the room with Four, getting ready to start their warmup.

Eric, noticing that you’re distracted, tries to hit you but you are quick enough to notice and block him arm. A smile shows up in his face and you start another fight, making sure that this one will be the one that you will bring Eric down.

Your sister’s eyes leave Four and looks around her, interested. Her eyes stop on you and Eric, shocked at how the two of you fought, showing no mercy for each other, but still finding a way to laugh and crack jokes while doing it.

You laugh as Eric throws you into the padded floor slightly smiling down at you once again.

This time, when lifting you, he throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, making you gasp loudly before starting to laugh once again, while trying to get down.

Eric gets out of the ring and puts you down while grabbing a water bottle and you sigh, exhausted from this very extended training and from laughing so much. You take a sip from your cold water and you see the initiates beginning their 10 laps around the huge building.

You look over at Eric once more and peck his lips quickly before talking.

“I’m going to change clothes” You tell him, knowing very well that he will still train for a few more minutes.

“Alright, don’t take too long” He tells you and you roll your eyes.

“See you in a bit”

Eric pecks your lips once more and you grab your jacket and the rest of your things from the ground before running out of the building to go change clothes.

Eric looks around as you run out and he notices your sister looking at him.

(…)

Training today was the worst. Everyone was too scared or too careful with their hits when fighting, making you grow impatient. Especially when people failed to respect you like any other leader.

Your sister, understanding that you will not talk to her any soon, tried to do her best, but that didn’t seem to be enough, since Four walked to her and corrected her in almost everything that she would do.

Parents start walking down the metal stairs of the Pit and you stand beside Eric, tense.

If your parents don’t show up, which is very possible, your sister will be heartbroken, just like you were. But if they do, how will you feel?

Another leader walks over to the families and starts pointing to where their respective kids were standing.

Your sister looks down to her boots and waits patiently for her parents to appear. She then looks up at you, from the other side of the room and you lean your head on Eric’s shoulder, definitely bored with this.

You lift your head once you see your parents walking down the stairs with a big smile while looking for your sister. As your body tenses up, Eric looks down at you and then follows your gaze.

“Are they-” He starts, and you nod right away.

They walk happily in your sister’s direction and pull her in a tight hug right away. Your heart shatters at the sight and Eric’s hand goes to your back, massaging it as a way to comfort you.

“We can leave, if you want” Eric tells you and look over at him, the expression on your face squeezing his heart.

“No, I’m fine” You tell him.

“Eric!” A leader shouts.

You look away from him and he plants a kiss on the top of your head before walking to the leader, who was calling him for help with the list that he supposedly needs to write down every family’s presence in this room.

Your sister continues to talk to your parents and the three of you look over at you. You look away to another family, who talk between each other, and you try to get some entertainment out of this.

“I though she wouldn’t make the cut, as bad as it sounds” Your father comments your sister.

“She’s a leader, dad. She didn’t just make the cut, she supposedly ranked really high. Probably top 5.” She tells him. “She also has a boyfriend, who is a leader as well” She says while smiling at your mom, who looked happy for you.

Eric walks over to your family with half of the sheets of paper that the other leader had and a pen. Your sister looks over at him and your parents follow his gaze.

“Your full name,” Eric orders annoyed, with the fact that he actually has to do another people’s job.

Your dad flinches at the annoyance and rudeness from Eric’s tone as his daughter told him her name.

“May I know who you are?” You dad asks Eric.

“May I know why you would like to know that?” Eric asks, imitating his tone.

“He’s Eric, one of our leaders” Your sister answers for him.

You, after helping the leader as well with some of the families, look for Eric and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets as they see him talking to your parents.

“Sign here” Eric tells your mom while giving her the pen and the paper.

“Since you’re a leader. Perhaps you could tell us something about our daughter” Your dad says.

“We have only trained her for a few days, I can’t say much” Eric days passing him the pen and paper next, ready to walk away from this conversation.

“Not this daughter. My oldest”

“What would you like to know?”

“How she became a leader, since I only knew that now”

Your sister closes her eyes in embarrassment and annoyance from your dad’s childish and curious acts.

“She ranked first in her year and never was under the red line” Eric says in a low voice.

Your mother looks over at you with a proud smile and your dad starts getting more intrigued.

“Who were the leaders in her year?”

“I was the only leader, but that trainer was helping out in her year as well” Eric says while pointing quickly at Four.

“He trained her?”

“No” Eric says annoyed, “He trained every single person in that year the same way, she wasn’t trained by him personally”

“You trained her, then, I suppose?”

“I did” Eric says, taking a look at the paper that your dad hasn’t signed yet.

You walk away from the other family and give the last paper to the leader that is organizing them.

“Can you please tell Eric to stop chit chatting and be quicker? I need to take these to Max, ASAP” He says, and you sigh.

“Sure”

You hide your sweaty hands inside the pockets of your leather jacket, and you walk to Eric. Your sister’s eyes go to you and your mother follows her gaze.

You stand next to Eric and your dad looks over at you.

“Justin is asking for the papers” You tell Eric.

“Take these” Eric says giving some he already had signed from other families, to you.

You grab them and once you start walking away, your dad grabs your wrist and you look down at his hand.

“Let me go” You tell him.

“No, you walk over here and don’t even acknowledge your family-”

Eric, out of pure annoyance and impatience, grabs your arm and your dad’s hand, separating them forcefully. He gives you a look and you start walking to Justin.

“Before saying anything as hypocritical as you said. You should’ve thought about acknowledging your daughter 2 years ago” Eric spits your dad while he signs the paper.

“Excuse me?” Your dad asks and your sister smiles at how Eric is protecting you.

Eric grabs the paper and pen from his hands, and without saying anything else walks away from them to you.

“Who does he think he is? Just because he is a leader, he can’t just act like he knows who’s he’s talking to” Your dad rants, making people look over at him confused.

“Dad” Your sister says, and he sighs annoyed, “Eric is Y/N’s boyfriend”

Your dad, with those words, freezes and looks at your sister in shock. Your mom, who had understood everything since you had walked over here, tries to hide her smile from the embarrassing situation her husband just experienced.

As Eric gets to your side, his arm went around your waist and he started conversation with you right away. You joined in completely after a bit, smiling up at him as you two talked, not caring or remembering who is on the other side of the room.

As you understood how Eric kept your mind occupied just to not see you upset, you fell in love for this man all over again.

- - - - -

This idea was originally for an actual story with various parts. So, I might write a part 2 for this.

- - - - - - -

🌸✨Sorry, but I’m not writing in this account anymore. Go check out my new one @twinklelilstarkey✨🌸

#Eric Coulter #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter x reader #jai courtney #jai courtney x reader #divergent #divergent imagine #insurgent #insurgent imagine #eric coulter imagines

[savoies]

i don't know you yet - anthony beauvillier.

summary: soulmates. they exist right? y/n and tito live their daily lives doing activities thinking if the right person will ever come.

word count: 2k.

warnings: maybe a few bad words. hopefully angst. 

a/n: i think this might be my first "angst" so please let me know what you think. i am so proud of this work and honestly probably one of my bests. loosely inspired by idk yet by alexander 23. thank you so much to @puckbuddies for all the help, love ya!

taglist + tagging a few folks: @quintnsbyfield @vincecdunn @bigboigritty @ana-maa @puckshitbitch @alxvlasic @stfukie @laurenairay @damn-dunner-29 @kaitieskidmore1 @thelionkingpw @aria253264 @hartsyhart @boesxr @mitch-slap @frostythegoalman @teenagekook @barzysthighs

tagging some lovely folks: @laurenairay @konecny-s @bestestbenn @vinceduhn @folkloreflyers .

(*credit to gif owner.*)

Many people imagine their dream person or think of the person they want to date or marry from a young age. Y/N remembered going to sleepovers and her friends talking about how they wanted a boyfriend with blue eyes and blonde hair or brown hair and brown eyes. But when Y/N's turn came around she always said the same thing "I don't care what they look like as long as they are the right person for me." And that's when the game would end. Because twelve year olds could not fathom that everyone had their person and at some point they'd meet and everything would work out. Her mindset was set as growing up her mom would always tell her the same story. When I met your dad I just knew she'd say.

Tito had dated his fair share of girls. Blonde, brown haired, a red head, and a spontaneous colored haired girl here and there. But none caught his attention. Not that they weren't pretty or anything but Tito was not really one to date and dump. He liked forming connections and really getting to know them. But being a hockey player was not really quite helpful. They'd be invited to a party here and there and of course Mat begged Tito to go with him because he needed a wingman and Tito could not really say no to his best friend.

~~~~

Y/N had believed she had met her special person her second year into college. A tall lanky boy with brown hair. They had both met in the library when they reached for the same book. Might seem cheesy but she took it as a hint. After "considently" bumping into eachother in the library many more times he had asked her out. Most of their dates were pretty basic just like her. Maybe that's why she enjoyed them so much. Two years. Two years is how long she dated him for. But sadly people fall out of love. She had heard about that happening only in movies. Never really thinking that it could happen to her. But then she heard some of the worst words anyone could ever hear. "I don't love you anymore." 

Her heart was sad. Her first real relationship. Who she believed was the one. But she understood. This wasn't her fairytale. But she was broken. Her still being in love. Thoughts invading her mind. What did she do wrong? What could she have done better? So after that it took her time to open up again, to bring those walls down to handsome looking strangers. She wasn't one just to date for fun. So she rarely did bring them down. Sometimes she'd sit in her dark room late at night letting her thoughts consume her. How maybe she'd never find the one, how she was unlovable, how she had way too high of expectations to believe there was someone for everyone. 

~~~~~

Every Monday morning Y/N would go to the same coffee shop and get the same order, a medium coffee with sugar and cream. To her it was a nice way to start the week. She had been doing it since she moved to Brooklyn in 2016. 

Tito had been begging Mat to go with him to this coffee shop in Brooklyn that apparently had great coffee. Tito was what you could call a food and drinks connoisseur. Having cooked many times for his teammates and best friend.

" Come on Mat, Grace and Anders said it the best they've had and they've lived here much longer than us. Plus you owe me for getting you that girls number last week, don't forget to call her." Tito wasn't one to get acquainted with Mat's hookups but he did feel bad when the next morning Mat was kicking them out before sunrise.

Mat finally agreed and here they were on a Monday morning way too early for Mat's liking for a straight black coffee that was "rich in flavor" according to Tito. It was quite busy for it being Monday but they patiently waited in line.

Y/N gathered her stuff and exited the crowded coffee shop, careful not to bump into anyone and headed her way to work.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes they ordered two medium coffees and headed out to the busy New York streets.

She had walked about ten minutes away from the coffee shop before she realized that she forgot her phone. Y/N checked her watch and noticed that if she was gonna make it on time she had only five minutes to retrieve her phone. So she quickly but carefully dogged through people as she made her way back to the coffee shop.

Tito and Mat were casually walking back to the car having parked it a few blocks down when they saw someone running their way. Tito wasn't paying much attention due to savoring his cup of coffee which to him was totally worth the twenty minute drive and six dollars.

"Dude she's hot." Mat turned around and checked out the girl that somewhat seemed like she was running away from something instead of for something. 

"Mat that's gross. You literally didn't even see her face and are labelling her hot just by seeing her ass, I understand why you need a wingman now."

"Hey!" Mat slapped his best friend's shoulder as Tito drank his coffee trying to stifle a laugh (which he failed) since Mathew knew it was true.

~~~

Y/N had heard it many times from her friends, family, and probably even a few strangers. It was time to get a date. She wasn't desperate to really get anywhere. She was a 22 year old living in one of the most populated states in the country. She has time right? Deep down she knew that if she didn't get out there her person would probably not come by themselves. Which brings her to present day staring at her  phone screen at 1am. Earlier in the day Y/N's friend texted her that she knew someone who deemed specific qualities the young romantic wanted. 

~~~

Y/N met Grace in the coffee shop. She had come in a little bit later due to having the day off and sleeping in. Grace and Ruby sat in one of the corners of the small spaced coffee shop and Y/N sat next to them trying to stay in her own space but finding it quite difficult when there was a cute baby trying to get her attention a few feet away. After Grace apologizing for invading her space and Y/N saying it was really no problem they continued to meet in the coffee shop every once in a while. And a friendship blossomed later having exchanged numbers.

Grace was great. She listened to Y/N's tall tales of soulmates and love and she even told her about how she found her love (which she referred to as anders, y/n never having met him before) and how they had a beautiful baby girl together. She knew Y/N wanted someone who was sweet and kind and liked forming deeper connections so when she had an encounter with Tito she knew she should text her.

~~~

It was a late Friday night and the boys were celebrating a win in a rowdy club somewhere in downtown Brooklyn. The single guys trying to get the attention of some girls by buying them drinks. Grace had been standing at the bar with some of the other girls when she saw that Tito sat alone at the booth that occupied their stuff.

"Seems like our stuff doesn't really need a bodyguard, why aren't you out there buying a girl a drink or dancing?" She spoke somewhat loudly due to the pounding music and shouting of people.

"Not really my thing." He smiled softly back at his captain's wife. Tito was not fond of clubs or bars. He felt as though it was way too loud to actually have a proper conversation with someone. That's when it clicked. Of all the times the team had gone out not once had Tito really smiled or joked around with a girl. Grace connected the dots and decided to text Y/N in the morning.

~~~

A simple message was displayed across Y/N's screen. Simply reading "hey i know dates aren't your thing but i know someone who i think you might like."

After sleeping on it for quite a few more hours than she needed to, she decided to bite the bullet and text Grace back. "Why the hell not." 

Not even two minutes later Y/N's phone dinged indicating a response. "Perfect, I'll let him know."

There she sat on her bed over thinking if this was really a good idea.

~~

Tito was way over his head. Grace had texted him that she knew of a girl who was quite exactly Tito's type. At least she loosely stated it that way. He had agreed only on the condition that Mat was having a girl over later tonight and he wanted to be as far away from that as possible since they did have pretty thin walls. So exactly five hours later here he stood outside the infamous coffee shop which held the secret ingredient to the best coffee he had. Grace didn't tell him much other than her hair color which was quite difficult to find in New York since every once in a while a sea of same colored haired girls would come by. He waited outside deeming it more on the gentlemenier side. Whatever that meant. Ten minutes later wrapping his coat on tighter and checking his watch for what seemed to be the five time. Maybe she stood him up. I mean he didn't have too many redeeming qualities. I mean hell he lived in New York and didn't like clubs, parties, and sometimes hated big crowds which were what seemed to be a big part of where he lived. Rocking on the back of his heels he decided to wait a bit longer thinking that hopefully she was just running late.

~~~ 

Indeed she had been running quite late. Her cousin had pleaded her to take care of her baby because she had some errands to run. She didn't mind at all since she did in fact love babies. But when four thirty rolled around and still no sign of her cousin she began to worry. She didn't have this mystery dudes number (which Grace referred to him as Anthony) so she couldn't really text him that she was gonna be a bit late. She really hoped he would wait because all throughout the day her excitement grew more and more. Finally five rolled around and Y/N quickly handed off the baby and changed into something more date worthy rushing out the door in the cold breeze of the afternoon. She rushed to the coffee shop and as she arrived she could see a tall stranger looking down at the ground presumably freezing since it was pretty cold. She dodged a few people hoping that this was indeed her date.

"Hi uhm are you Anthony." She spoke up and she stood awkwardly pulling the sleeves of her sweaters. "Gosh please be Anthony or im just gonna look like an idiot." She whispered.

Tito turned around at a soft voice and was faced with one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Her baby hairs were sticking out and her nose and cheeks were red from the cold, she seemed to be somewhat out of breath.

Y/N looked up and caught sight of some of the most memorizing eyes she had ever seen. This handsome stranger who she presumed  as Anthony had amazing features.

Tito cleared his throat and reached out his hand. "Hi uhm yeah im Anthony but you can call me Tito, or at least that's what my friends call me." He began to ramble.

"Nice to meet you im y/n." They shook hands and a soft electric shock was felt between the two. They both glanced up and she knew it was too soon to tell since she had just met him but she felt an extra special connection with him.

#ari speaks #hockey boys #hockey #tito beauvillier #i don't know you yet anthony beauvillier #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier x reader #new york isles #new york islanders #ny isles #nhl fics #hockey fics #hockey fic #nhl fic #ok i know i make out mat to be kind lf a douche oop #ahh im so happy how this turned out #please let me know what you think #im so happy to show you guys

[birdhaslostit]

🦇💀🕷🕸 What the Lupin Gang would do/wear for Halloween! 🕸🕷🍬🍭

This may be OOC, but it’s Halloween, and nobody is themselves on Halloween. That’s the whole point. It’s time to let loose babey

🎃 Lupin: 

Lupin would wear something suave yet spooky. (A vampire is a tried-and-true option.) Whatever it is, it has to leave some of his face showing- how else is he supposed to woo the ladies at the party? Other costume choices include a pirate captain, Jack Skellington, and a joint costume with Fujiko as Victor and Emily from Corpse Bride.

Lupin has ABSOLUTELY dressed up as Dr. Frank N Furter from Rocky Horror Picture show. Definitely more than once.

Lupin would definitely get WAAAAAAY into Halloween. Like, the first of October, BAM. Orange jacket with a black shirt and an orange tie. He makes all of his October heists Halloween-themed, but he doesn’t steal on Halloween because that’s when he goes ALL. OUT. 

Each year he picks a different city to celebrate in. He spaces out wherever he goes so he doesn’t get caught, but rumors about Lupin spread, so each year people make a guessing game of where he’s gonna go for Halloween. Each year, he picks a hideout in the most popular trick-or-treating area of that city and decks it OUT with Halloween decorations. A large chunk of the decor expenses was probably taken from the Halloween Jacket heists from that year.

Lupin never sends invitations for it though- this is the one time he won’t do it. He insists that it adds to the “illusion of mystique.” He leaves it up to the trick-or-treaters to spread the word. News quickly gets around that the cool house down the street might be Lupin, and without fail, it turns into a block party within the first 2 hours or less.

On Halloween, he gives out candy to literally everyone. He spoils the little kids with king-size candy bars. He encourages the teens to go egg/TP houses of rude people in the area (he staked them out in advance specifically to do this.) He hypes up the costumed adults and hands out Halloween-themed drinks. 

The day after Halloween, the hideout looks deserted, like nobody was ever there. Nobody can ever figure out how he packs it all up so quickly, without anyone noticing. The only thing he leaves, every single time, is a jack-o-lantern with his face on it. 

🎃 Jigen: 

Something classic and/or low-effort. First thing that comes to mind is a werewolf. 

Lupin might bug him about stealing his trademark, but Jigen fits the image better. He’s gruff and hairy and may perhaps shoot you if you make fun of his costume. 

Jigen might also go for a classic Dracula if Lupin isn’t a vampire that year. He’s also been a cowboy several times.

He doesn’t really interact with the crowd unless they come up to him first (which is rare because he doesn’t exactly exude “friendly,” and it’s usually a little kid, because they don’t really notice.) 

If it’s a little kid though, Jigen’s always nice to them. Especially little boys who like his cowboy costume. (He wears that one the most as an excuse to carry his magnum around without people getting suspicious.) He’ll put on the southern drawl and everything. He doesn’t want to break the illusion for a kid, especially not on Halloween.

One time a little boy called him Woody, Lupin overheard, and teased him about it the whole night because he thought it would bug Jigen. Jigen secretly thought it was the funniest/sweetest thing ever, and snuck the kid extra candy in his bucket before he left with his mom. 

Jigen won’t take any crap from teenage trick-or-treaters who are rude. You know, the ones who take too much from the bucket so there’s none left for the little kids. He’ll turn them away at the door. It’s never come down to him having to pull out the Magnum, because his glare alone is enough to scare the crap out of them so they’ll leave. Same goes for tipsy adults who’ve had one too many Halloween-themed drinks and get too rowdy. 

One year Lupin made a joke about how Jigen should give some candy cigarettes out to kids for Halloween, and Jigen shut it down FAST. He doesn’t want to encourage kids to start his bad habit, so he doesn’t smoke around other people at the party, and makes extra sure that kids aren’t around when he does.

One year, Jigen gave out out tiny water pistols with the candy. Lupin got some for him to hand out because they reminded him of Jigen at the store, and even though Jigen brushed it off at the time, he appreciated it.

🎃 Goemon: 

Goemon secretly loves Halloween, but will literally die before admitting it to anyone. It took him a while to warm up to it, though.

He still sticks to tradition- his costumes all have something to do with Japan. Kabuki Ishikawa Goemon is a classic that he returns to often. He’s dressed up as various oni/yōkai/yūrei before, and several figures from Japanese folklore.

Goemon has also been a samurai for Halloween, even though it’s just his regular clothes. It’s for the kids, really- he secretly enjoys the attention.

He will make jack-o-lanterns with Zantetsuken, but only for little kids that he thinks are especially polite. Lupin whines every time because Goemon won’t make him one too.

He always insists on getting Japanese candies for the candy bowl, like Pocky and the various flavored Kit Kats they have in Japan. At first he insisted on more traditional treats, then he realized they might not keep well and opted for these. Plus, it’s for the kids.

He does keep things like konpeitō and wagashi for himself to snack on throughout the night. He’ll share, but the same rule applies as the jack-o-lanterns- only for the super polite kids.

One time Lupin made a bet with Goemon, and if he lost, he had to be a geisha for Halloween.

He lost.

He doesn’t like to talk about it.

Everyone else does, every single year, without fail. 

Goemon has also become the de facto Guardian of the Punch Bowls. Lupin keeps them out for both the trick-or-treaters and the partygoers. One bowl for the kids, and an alcoholic one for the adults. The adult punch is clearly labeled. Now, you should never drink the punch at a party because you don’t know what’s in it, but Lupin is the exception in this regard. No funny business is happening with that punch bowl. And Goemon will make damn sure of that. 

Nobody ever assigned him the position of Punch Bowl Guardian, he just picked it up himself. Before Halloween one year, Lupin was (rightfully) worried at first that someone would try to put something dangerous in it, and was about to opt out of having a communal punch bowl. Then, Goemon spoke up that he had it covered, and thus, he was made the Punch Bowl Guardian.

Nobody has ever tried to spike it with anything, and nobody ever will. Lupin gets to mingle instead of guarding the bowl, and Goemon gets to relax away from the crowd. Everybody wins.

🎃 Fujiko:

If you don’t think Fujiko hasn’t been a Playboy bunny at least once, you’re lying to yourself. She has also been a mouse, à la Mean Girls, and basically a sexy version of anything you can think of. Except for a cop. She wouldn’t stoop that low.

Occasionally, it wasn’t originally supposed to be a sexy version of the outfit/character. Lupin sometimes replaces the original with a raunchier outfit the night before, and waits to see if she notices. 

She always does. 

Sometimes she likes that version better and sticks with it, and if Lupin ever asks about it on Halloween, she denies it all. If she doesn’t like it, she knows that Lupin kept the original and will put it back before she wakes up on Halloween. They’ve been playing this game for years, and there’s never any malice behind it. It’s just their customary brand of Halloween trickery.

One time she planned to dress up as Lupin, purely to see if he’d replace his outfit with a risqué version the night before. 

Of course he did, why would you expect anything less???

She laughed so hard at it that she tripped and fell, and he rushed in to see if she was okay and also to see if she was wearing it because he wanted a peek 

She then made HIM wear it on Halloween, while she wore his regular clothes. He was cool with it, had a blast, got blasted on too many cups of adult punch, and then got a little too into the outfit, so Jigen had to bribe him to take it off at the end of night. 

Her favorite costume that wasn’t ‘edited’ by Lupin is from the year she dressed up as Pops. She swiped it from his disguise collection, and hid it where he wouldn’t find it before he could notice it was gone. Her decoy costume was a bumblebee. She’s just as good at disguises as Lupin is, so when she showed up as Zenigata, Lupin nearly shit a brick. 

Goemon will never let him forget it.

🎃 Zenigata: 

Zenigata probably dresses up as an old-school detective or Sherlock Holmes, which isn’t really too different from his normal attire, but it makes him happy regardless. 

He will not arrest Lupin on Halloween. 

Zenigata knows about the parties, but turns a blind eye to them at this point, because it’s a fruitless endeavor trying to catch a master of disguise on Halloween. He has tried in the past, but only once. When Zenigata first discovered that Lupin threw these parties, he found out where Lupin was on Halloween and came to arrest him. 

He walked up to the hideout and saw Lupin handing out candy to a pair of kids. He couldn’t go through with it, because wouldn’t you know it, their costumes were tiny versions of him and Lupin. 

He immediately did a 180 and started to leave, since Lupin wasn’t technically breaking the law at the time, and he’s a sucker for kids. (He got a little misty-eyed at the sight of a tiny little girl drowning in a trenchcoat that looked just like his, with a pair of cheap plastic handcuffs in the pocket. He’d hate to show it in front of Lupin though.)

Lupin, of course, knew Zenigata was coming before he even arrived, grabbed his shoulder, and stopped him from walking away. The girls were too young to see past Lupin’s costume and had no idea that it was him, and they had assumed that Zenigata was also in costume. Zenigata told them it was really him, and, of course, they are THRILLED.

They ask him about his adventures with Lupin, and he tells them the G-rated versions of the stories. Lupin joins in, after leaving for a ‘bathroom break’ and coming back as himself. The two spend the night answering their questions, telling stories, and doing party tricks. Zenigata shows how quickly he can handcuff Lupin while blindfolded, and Lupin shows how he can dislocate his joints to get out/pick the lock. 

When the girls’ parents show up, they see their kids sitting next to these two adults in the same ‘costumes.’ They seem to be good people, so the parents compliment their costumes and go home with their kids. The girls insist that the two men were the real Lupin and Pops, but the parents brush it off. 

Every year since, Lupin leaves another jack-o-lantern with his face on it besides the one he leaves at the hideout once he’s gone. No matter where the party is, or how far it is from where Zenigata is staying, Pops always gets one too. Usually with a piece of candy next to it, and a calling card for his next, non-Halloween-themed heist.

#lupin the third #Lupin III #lupin the 3rd #lupin-the-third #lupin #halloween #jack o lantern #spooky #jigen daisuke #Daisuke Jigen #goemon ishikawa xiii #ishikawa goemon xiii #Fujiko Mine #mine fujiko #zenigata #koichi zenigata #zenigata koichi #rupan sansei #lupin the first #lupin the third the first #spooktober #october #Fujiko #Jigen #Goemon #pops

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 4 (Legends/Tales)

Summary: Someone calls for help from the deepest depths of darkness. Terra and Aqua trace the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. || Word Count: 8,983

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek hooooo if you thought yesterday’s was angsty dkfjdkfjdk So everyone and their mom compares Terraqua to Orpheus and Eurydice (Orphydice?) and I totally agree. It was time to officially jump that wagon. This one was difficult though - originally, I was going to have them sitting near a fireplace and talking about fairy tales over drinks, but I think I did the sit down apology fic way too many times and needed something different. This one was a huge challenge in such a tiny frame of time though. It took me the longest to write (a whole week, when I normally take months), so I couldn’t clean it as much as I would like to. I hope you like it anyway! <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Long Way Down ~ no further debts to be paid

Aqua has been dragging him all over town, following a call—this gut-wrenching feeling that something is wrong and someone is crying but she doesn’t know who or where. Except here, wandering around Thebes, though Terra doesn’t mind at all. Keyblade wielders are supposed to follow their hearts. Terra will follow hers anywhere.

What he does mind, though, are these screaming fangirls. 

He collides head first into a neglected booth of rugs, scampering away from a group of young women who were trying to rip his left arm out of his socket, seeking pieces of his armor. They squeal, they cry, they sigh with all the fever of delusion. Champion! Terra! You’ve come back! You’re more beautiful than the gods! 

Aqua strides by him, hiding an amused smirk behind her elegant fingers. “You picked a good hiding place.” She straightens a bent rug and rolls it tighter, letting it lean on its side by the wall. 

Terra knocks a rug off of his head. “I did nothing to deserve this.”

“I nearly forgot,” Aqua says in a way that means she didn’t. “You won a championship.”

“Years ago. Once.” He kicks the pile on his back and crawls out. Zack and Hercules would never let it down if they hear about him hiding from harmless girls like he’s a mouse. “I’m no celebrity.”

“I beg to differ.” She unfolds a tapestry. Weaved into the fabric is a figure of a man armored in golds and burgundies, tall with dark hair and wielding a giant key. “You’re a story they share. Be grateful for your adoring fans.”

The only thing he’d be grateful for is the attention of the person standing right next to him. He never thought about the Olympus Coliseum championship while he was possessed and trapped in Darkness, not once. He thought of her every day and night. 

“I think you’re jealous they’re chasing me and not you, Master Aqua.”

“Well, I would handle it with more grace.” She beats dust out of the corner of a rug with her hand.

The way she jokes with him is instinctual, natural, but the way her eyes wander is not, like she’s not paying attention. They’ve searched Thebes for hours, and while the city-state’s stairs for hills and elaborate gardens are impressive, they’ve found no lead as to who Aqua is looking for. She unrolls another tapestry like she’s reading a scroll. She doesn’t even have a name, just a dream that spoke to her one night: Find me, please. 

“There’s nothing here, either,” she mumbles. 

Terra doesn’t know how to lift her spirits. “Maybe the answer is not in Thebes.”

“We haven’t searched everywhere.” She pulls out another tapestry that he’s sure she’s already deciphered.

How many times are they going to circle the marketplace? Terra sighs and risks peeking at the main street from the alleyway. If he stays close enough to Aqua, the fangirls stay farther away, as though she’s a repellant. Who knew Aqua makes for a good shield. 

The marketplace swarms with chatter and dust pickup from sandals and wheels. They’ve been through every store on this block. They’ve been through museums, they’ve listened to storytellers on the streets, met with sages and fortune tellers. There’s not much to deduce out of a whisper from a dream. 

A high-pitched scream breaks through the loud talk of shopgoers, and Terra summons his Keyblade, watching for Heartless.

It comes from a girl, pointing a finger at him. Everyone else gawks. She shivers from head to toe. “Terra!” 

At the sound of his name, like mockingbirds for sheep, they call out. “Terra!” 

“Damn the stars,” he mutters and sprints back into the alleyway, a stampede behind him. “Aqua?” She’s not by the rugs. “Aqua!” He turns the corner of the empty alleyway, stuck between choosing a direction in a crossover. There’s no sign of her, no sign of his star in the darkness or his shield.

A hand waves at him through a window. 

“Terra!” the girls squeal. 

He dashes, throwing himself through the window. He lands on his back, on hard concrete. Aqua cradles his head on her lap and keeps low beneath the windowsill, a finger to her lips as the wave of giggles and cries ride past them and fade away. 

“You were gone,” he whispers. 

Aqua brushes her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” she says, but she offers no explanation.

They’re in what looks like the back room of a pottery shop, half of them unpainted with the clay still slick, and the rest completed but possibly not inventoried yet. 

“We’re breaking into people’s homes now?” Terra asks, grunting.

“You needed a hiding place,” Aqua says. She sounds unlike herself. Too tone-deaf, too distracted, her heart in the right place to help him like she always does, but she’s disregarding the consequences she’d normally consider before making such rash decisions. 

“Why are we here?”

Aqua looks at him with a blank expression. “I don’t know.”

“You just waltzed in here?” He sighs. The shopkeeper is lucky Terra hasn’t destroyed anything when he crashed. He sits up and holds her chin, checking for vital signs of injury. “Are you feeling alright?”

Aqua grimaces. “Maybe we’re in here for a reason.” 

Or maybe she’s lost her mind. 

“Is it too early for me to say that I’m worried about you?”

“I’d say so.”

Terra scoffs and stands up, his knee hitting a table next to him. The vase on the surface rattles and spins. Aqua catches it. 

When she glances at the artwork, she glares. “This one.”

“Huh?”

The vase is stamped with an image in black. Two figures, a man and a woman, reach out for each other, but there’s a wall between them. 

“You recognize this?” Terra asks.

Aqua waits before she answers. On the man’s side is a lyre. On the woman’s, wisps of smoke. “Not really. But something about it is so unpleasant.”

It’s not much, but her reaction is the closest they have ever gotten so far. 

She takes the vase with her and heads out the window, the door to the rest of the shop locked. “I’m borrowing it.”

“Aqua—” 

“I’ll bring it back.”

Out in the alleyway, Aqua cradles the vase gently in her arms, desperately looking around for someone to talk to. 

As much as he doesn’t want to, he says, “We can head back to the marketplace.” 

The shuffle of feet approach them from behind the building next door. A lost girl blinks at them, her makeup smudged and running as though she’s been crying, her lip color smeared on her teeth. She recognizes Terra—

—Terra casts Silence on her and pulls her aside, up against a wall. “Shhh. Please don’t yell, please don’t yell.”

Without her voice, her squeals are replaced with gasps. She throws her arms around him. 

“Hey!”

Aqua runs up to them without acknowledging how Terra is peeling this girl off himself. She points to the vase. “Do you know who this is?” The girl stares back. “Can you tell me? Please?”

As much as he really doesn’t want to, there are miles he’s willing to trek just for Aqua. “If I remove my spell,” Terra tells the girl, “and you answer Aqua, very gently, who this picture is supposed to be of, I’ll let you hug me again.”

The girl’s eyes go wide and she nods. 

He recants his spell, and the girl suppresses her squeaks. 

“Oh gods, it’s really Terra.” She hops, pinning her hands in between her legs. “You smell so good. I love you, Terra. I mean, um…” Instead of speaking to Aqua, the girl just locks her eyes at him. “That’s Orpheus. Everyone knows who that is.”

The look on Aqua’s face tells Terra that her heart is stirring. 

“What’s his story?” Terra asks.

The girl is happy to oblige. “He sings the saddest ballads, all about the death of his most beloved wife.” She twirls a lock of hair. “Lost her to a snakebite. They say he went to the Underworld to find her, but he lost her along the way. He wasn’t a strong person.” She stands on her toes. “Not like you, Terra. You wouldn’t leave the one you love in the darkness, would you? You’d save them?”

Terra steps back. The onslaught of such specific questions makes him sick to his stomach. 

The girl leans forward. “Can I touch your hair?”

“No.” He slaps her hand out of the way.

“Where can I find him?” Aqua asks, completely serious. 

The girl rolls her eyes this time, as though it’s such a rude interruption. “If you trek up Mount Olympus, you’ll eventually cross a forest. You can find his head there.”

“His head?” Terra says. 

The girl steps up to meet him face to face. “They say he still sings—that’s how Death came to meet him. Anyone who hears his songs will be instantly enamored. Man and beast alike. Even the leaves and the stones will move just to be near him. That reminds me of you, Terra.”

Aqua—already sprinting back toward his direction from the pottery shop after leaving her borrowed vase at its windowsill—cuts between Terra and the fangirl, pulling him away from her by the hand. The hug he promised this girl is cancelled, and Terra is grateful for it

“Thank you!” Aqua says, not breaking her speed. The girl is left behind, dejected.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thebes is now a miniature, a toy town of red roofs and sandstone streets, that disappears from view as soon as they cross over a cliff, where the face of a forest is tucked away. The quiet greets them, a chirp of a bird here and there. 

Terra follows Aqua, not knowing where she’s going.

“So we’re looking for a severed head?” he asks. 

“According to the girl, yes.”

“Isn’t that a bit gruesome?”

“I think what she was hoping to do to you may be worse.”

Aqua skids to a stop. She looks over to her left, and runs in that direction. The treeline gets thicker, casting a dim filter over the ground. Aqua stops at a short, stone monument—a statue of a head on a pillar. The man’s face is carved with an open mouth, like he’s singing an opera. The trees sway in the wind. 

“That’s Orpheus?” Terra asks quietly. 

Aqua frowns. “I don’t hear a song.”

“I don’t, either.”

“But I feel so sad.” She holds a fist over her heart, her eyes watery.

Terra places a hand on her bare shoulder. She feels cold, and he has a sickly feeling that she’s getting worse. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know, yet. There’s not much I can do here. There’s no text, no clues.” Aqua walks, scanning the ground for a hint.

For a mural, there are no words or poems honored to Orpheus, no maps or glyphs that lend to any guidance. Terra touches the head of the pillar. He feels nothing. Keyblade wielders can be invulnerable to certain spells, but this is supposed to represent grief, and grief is Darkness. How he isn’t affected is an enigma to him—how he is spared and Aqua is not, is worrisome. 

“You know what I think?” he asks. 

She’s no longer there. Terra steps away from the statue. 

“Aqua?” 

No answer.

He jolts into a sprint, passing tree after tree with no sign of blue, none of her sashes flowing in the air. How did she get so far away?

Terra shouldn’t be so worried. The Heartless population here after the Keyblade War is minimal, and Aqua is more than capable of taking care of herself—but how she’s coming in and out of reality is more than Terra can bear. He can’t lose her. Not ever again.

“Aqua!”

Terra cries out in relief. She’s standing in a field of red flowers. Lilies, by the shape of them, speckled in the color of raspberries. Their stems curve over, swaying like bells. They’re not stretched towards the sun but hang towards the ground, as if they’re watching for fingers to climb out through the grass.

“I thought I lost you,” he says when he approaches her.

Aqua crosses her arms. “There’s something here.” When she inhales, she turns around like she just realized he was there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Terra fights the urge to hug her. He loses, taking her in his arms. “I think I’m going crazy... I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says, though there’s so much more he needs to tell her. 

“What a little, perfect, crispy portrait of a love story,” a heedy voice says, pronouncing every syllable with sweet spite, exaggerated by hand movements. First is the creep of black smoke over the grass. A shadow emerges from behind a tree, bald head with blue fire for hair, a long black cloak wrapped around his body. “Really, it’s a photo op, an exhibition, a grand spectacle.” He frames them with his fingers. “Bluebird and the Waste of Space, classic. All the children will hear about it.”

“Of course you’re involved in this,” Terra spits, letting Aqua go. He keeps his Keyblade near, in case he needs to summon it.

“On the contrary, I’m the victim in this case.”

“Hades,” Aqua says, an icy chill to her voice. “These flowers...”

“You like them?” Hades flashes a grin, teeth sharp as needles. “A specialty from- you could say a good friend. They’re called eurydice, funnily enough.”

Aqua freezes.

“What’s so funny about that?” Terra asks, stepping in front of Aqua so he’s a barrier.

“I forgot you’re not the sharpest rock in the canyon,” Hades mumbles, before animating his hands, presenting his words like they’re a marketing technique. “Eurydice, the pride of the forest. A muse, a sprite, a dryad.” He motions quotation marks with his fingers. “‘She’s not like other girls,’ whatever you want to call her. A gold prize.”

It comes to Terra like the dawn. Orpheus’s wife.

“What is she to you?” Aqua asks, defensive. 

“Well…” Hades casually places a hand on his hip and relies on the other to tell his story. “The Underworld is a vibrant culture of flora. There’s still some Heartless mucking about in the crevices, little maggots, doing Zeus knows what, but…” He pinches the air with his fingers. “There was a teeny tiny leak, a blemish in the system.” He shrugs. “And she slipped. You want to save her, and I want her back in my perfectly packaged Paradise. We work together and we both win.”

Terra scoffs. “You lost a ghost in the Underworld?”

Hades bites a breathy laugh, flicking lint off his robe, a gross smile stretching across his face like he knows a dirty secret. “My Underworld is a tight machine. No. She went somewhere darker.”

Aqua is the first to speak after the silence. “I see.”

“You see what?” Terra says.

Aqua casts her eyes downward. She usually never breaks eye contact in the presence of an enemy. “She’s in the Realm of Darkness. That’s why I’m connected to her.” 

Aqua has often said that she thinks a piece of the Darkness will stay with her until her final day, a single thorn growing out of her heart. 

“It’s not a place for the sensitive.” Hades scoffs with false modesty.

This is something no one has the right to ask of her. “We’re not bringing Eurydice back to you,” Terra says.

Hades disappears in a blink, reappearing by Terra’s shoulder, his hand a warm pot on the stovetop. “You, my friend, are the last person to bargain.” He disappears again and bursts into flames by Aqua’s side. “Aren’t Keyblade wielders supposed to keep a world’s balance at the tip of their fingers? There’s only one place everyone ends up in this world. Who says you can take the dead away from me? Where else would they go?” 

Aqua won’t give him the merit of a look. She swats his smoke away like it’s a fly.

Hades continues, “You see, the living owe a debt. You borrow life to breathe here for a few short happy years, and when you’re done, you return back to where you came from. And if you borrow, then you owe.” He flashes the teeth. “Therefore, she’s mine.” Hades flicks a finger on Terra’s chest. “You—both of you—have cheated. You’re thieves, you reek of it. Talk about privilege.”

Terra stammers.

“We’ll do it,” Aqua says.

Hades taps all his fingers together. “I’m glad we came to an agreement.” 

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Terra says, his eyes begging Aqua for an alternative way to do this.

“Down boy. Your bite is just as intimidating as your bark.” Hades turns over his shoulder. “Oh, and one other thing.” He raises a finger, and addresses Terra directly. “Have you ever worked with ghosts before? Miserable company. They’re mopey, they babble too much about nonsense. Not the guest you want to invite over for dinner. They’re confused, it’s part of their nature. Being connected to one isn’t the most sane habit. If you’re not careful, they’ll infect you with their pain.” Hades winks, and nods toward Aqua. “You might want to keep an eye on her.”

Terra’s heart strikes his chest like a hammer to the blood vessel, and he swallows bile. Aqua doesn’t seem fazed. 

“Well,” Hades says, “it’s a long walk down. Stay healthy, drink water, don’t go crazy.” With that, he vanishes for good this time, leaving the wind gliding through the flowers, all looking for someone below.

“She’s nearby,” Aqua says, her voice breaking a silence that doesn’t want to be heard. Like poison to be drunk, denial to be told the truth, there’s no ignoring this. “I can open a door here.”

“You’re really going back?”

“I can’t let her continue to suffer,” she says. “But I won’t put you in danger, either.”

“Wait,” Terra says, getting in her way. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t expect it to be anything else. Danger doesn’t scare me.” Terra takes her face in his hand. “After everything you’ve been through, you can’t ask me to let you do this alone.”

Aqua opens her mouth as if to refuse but she grimaces. “I admit I would like the company this time.”

Terra’s heart thumps, stroking her cheek. “I’ll never turn my back on you again.”

“A shame. You look taller from behind,” she says, and he snorts. 

When she moves away, he feels hollow, a sudden need to hold her again invading his body. He shrugs the feeling off. “I’m texting Ven.” He pulls out his Gummiphone. “He’ll need to open a Door to Light for our return.”

“Yes.”

“Any tips for how to survive?”

Aqua summons her Keyblade and points to the ground. “The Realm of Darkness wants you to feel hopeless and scared. It feeds from your mind.” She looks at him. “You can’t trust what you think or feel. You won’t be able to tell the difference between you or the Darkness.”

“Then how are we supposed to find her and come back if we can’t even think?”

Aqua lifts an elegant shoulder. “You keep your head up. That’s your best defense. The Realm will do many things to make you want to give up, to make you doubt yourself. You have to choose your battles. Even if you feel like you’re being followed, don’t look back. Don’t give in to its tricks.”

It sounds like hell. It feels like a knife to the liver—Aqua has suffered so much. His biggest regret is not having the strength to break out of his prison and do something about it.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Aqua asks.

“Not at all.”

The way she smiles this time makes her look like herself. “You know, I feel better now. Much clearer.”

Terra hopes that’s a sign of sweeter things to come. The smile he gives is weak when she summons a Door to Darkness. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Realm of Darkness is a dirt path in a forest that sprawls under patches of stars, as though someone has taken photos of different skies and pasted them together in a collage. Few lanterns light the way, smokey as if caked in fog. It would be similar to a romantic walk on the mountain in the spring if not for what it really is.

Terra trails close behind Aqua, the cape of her armor bouncing in the air. She jogs with such confidence despite that they have no map and have never been here before—well, Aqua has, but not here. According to her, the Realm of Darkness never stays the same. There’s no path back the way they came. 

So far, it’s lacked excitement, a still silence as though this world’s heart has stopped beating. 

“How do we find her?” Terra asks, his voice loud enough to make him worry if something hidden behind the trees has heard him.

“We keep going.” 

A sudden clank, metal on metal. Terra sprints to her. “What’s going on?”

Aqua has stepped onto a metal surface, a sudden cutoff from the forest like mismatched puzzle pieces forced together, spreading beyond what they can see. When Terra steps on it, the boot of his armor reverberates from his weight. 

“I don’t like this,” Aqua says. 

The river is black and made of torn iron, shards that jut out like shredded waves frozen in time. Lanterns from broken boats wedge into the collisions, a ship graveyard where they all crashed into each other in a hurricane.

“What now?” Terra asks, hushed.

She turns to face him, her helmet obscuring her expression. “We keep going.”

Their only direction is forward. There’s no compass, no horizon to see where they’re going. They curve around mountains of broken war and cruise ships and melted steel, like hills to climb and descend. Whether they’ve trailed a huge arch and are going backwards, Terra can’t tell.

Then again, Aqua has said there is no backwards in the Realm of Darkness. But what if this river doesn’t have a shore?

“Those aren’t lights,” Aqua warns. 

Some of the lanterns bob up and down, blinking.

“Stars,” Terra curses, summoning his Keyblade. Aqua has already conjured hers and is throwing a blast against a group of eyes hiding inside half of a ship, its inner scaffolding exposed like bent needles. The impact combusts.

Heartless swarm up and rain on him. They’re stronger here, these small Shadows more resistant, withstanding his powerful swings when they’d normally be thrown far back. 

A huge crash rumbles behind them, and Terra is knocked onto his knees. A ship sinks as its bow breaks off. It sounds like a building caving in. 

Aqua grabs his elbow. “Forget it,” she yells over the clamor. They run past hordes of Heartless materializing from the metal as if they’re being born, more and more and more until the sea behind them is a mass of yellow eyes. Terra relies on nothing but his two legs, pushing and pushing them despite the strain to catch up to her. Ships and boats disintegrate, about to swallow them if they can’t find solid ground.

They step onto dirt, a slab of earth suspended in space. They’re blocked by a huge stone gate without walls. 

Aqua turns and slices her Keyblade across, light thrusting forward to cut through the first wave of Shadows. 

Terra grunts when he jabs his Keyblade, a beam striking the gate in the middle. He summons a keyhole, a plea to enter. 

The gate opens.

“Come on!” He grabs her elbow and bolts inside. Terra immediately pushes his weight against the gate, Aqua mimicking the same—a desperate slog at first, his breath hitched and pulsating at his temple, until they build momentum and shut it. At the slam of the door, dust drops from the ceiling and lands on their shoulders.

Behind them is a dim hallway of two choices: left and right. The little light they have here comes from nowhere.

Terra sighs, breathing heavily. The air inside his helmet doesn’t smell fresh. “Well, your heart, your pick.”

Aqua chuckles, her voice muffled. He wishes he could see her smile. “Enjoying your stay?”

“You’re sick.”

“Remember not to get too affected by what you see, Terra.” She holds his shoulder, her glove clunking onto his pauldron. “The Realm will probe your mind until it finds what it can use.”

She leads the way right, her steps kicking up clouds of dust. The entire floor is sand, sinking the sound of their steps. The hall turns left. It turns left again. 

Terra can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched. He eyes the ceiling where the crevices that meet the wall are at their darkest, where he anticipates small, yellow eyes blinking at him. 

He thinks he hears something, but shrugs it off.

No, he has heard something. Growling.

It thrums louder and Terra is walking slower, growing a distance between him and Aqua who hasn’t noticed yet. 

The growling is coming from behind.

He turns.

There’s nothing.

“Aqua.”

“What is it?”

“I’m hearing an aggressive dog.”

“There are no dogs in the Realm of Darkness.”

“But it’s following us.”

“Trust me, there isn’t anything behind you.” She waves with her hand. “Come on. The Realm wants you to worry. The moment you start to believe it is when your heart begins to falter.”

At another two-way junction, Aqua chooses left—they’ve just gone in a circle. Terra expects to come back to the stone gate—but as though the Realm has heard him and is laughing at his assumptions, the hallway opens up into a path of eight directions. One of them a stairway up, one a stairway down. The opening next door is blocked from a staircase turned upside down, and the one next to that leads to a staircase that twists and leans on its side. 

Aqua chooses the way straight ahead, a long uncomplicated hallway.

The hallway turns right. She’s no longer there.

“Aqua!” Terra dashes forward and the hallway turns dark, like the twist of the knob on a lantern, a flame fading.

He turns over and heads back. “Aqua!” 

They went left, left, left, straight. All he has to do is trek that backwards. 

When Terra arrives at the large expanse of eight directions, Aqua comes in from behind him. “Terra!”

She runs into him when he halts and spreads his arms, their breastplates colliding. “Where did you go?” he asks.

“Down the hall, that’s it.” Her voice trembles. He’ll have to do better to be braver, for her. Aqua pulls away to look up at him. He wishes he could see her eyes. “What did I say about giving in?”

He licks his lips. “Don’t go back.”

Aqua swallows as if to stop a sob. “There’s no going back in this place, Terra. You could have gotten lost. The Realm wants you to doubt yourself.” She nods as if to make a point, her voice thick as if to mask how terrified she is. “Do you understand now?”

No. “We keep going.”

“I’ll stay close to you this time.” 

“Please.”

“I-I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

She points to a hallway different from the one she chose earlier, and walks by his side this time, step by step. Down this way is brighter, the stone newer, the sand thinning until they step on cobble. The walls shrink into a tight foyer framed by fully lit torches, parchment and paper scattered all over as though a storm blew through a library. 

Terra bends to pick some up. They’re all blank.

“Love letters and songs,” Aqua says, reading through empty pages, “that Orpheus wrote to her.” She shakes her head. “The stories I grew up with were so stupid.”

“Which ones are we talking about?”

“Those books I used to read when I was a teenager.”

Terra grimaces. “About true love.”

“I believed them until the end.” She sighs. “They seem so silly now. That you could be in love at first sight, without ever bonding with them—without ever knowing the ties you create with them and how much it pains to have those cut. It’s improbable. How does anyone expect them to be willing to pluck their hearts out of their chests and sew them together like that? How is that supposed to be ‘true,’ or ‘pure?’ The trials they’ve gone through to prove themselves in the name of that love—so small in comparison to some.”

“You mean in comparison to what Orpheus tried to do.”

Aqua swipes her hand over a page to flatten the bends. “I can’t imagine how brave he had to prepare himself to be, and how little he cared for his personal safety. That he would descend so deep into darkness for her. After everything I’ve been through, I could say—that is love. The fairy tales I’ve read don’t come close.”

Terra watches her stack parchment together, tapping the edges so that they align, her movements stiff due to the armor. There are no written words to be read on the pages, but there’s not a single word that could describe the epiphany he’s having. That she is sitting next to him, that there are things neither of them uttered a sound for, that she is the same person who fell to the depths just to save him, that she is not the same child who used to sneer at his essays. That day, he only had a feeling that he was being hugged until he went to sleep, then he woke up twelve years later.

“You love me,” he says, part question, part certainty.

Aqua pauses. Her visor reflects his. “I do. I have for a long time.” She scoffs softly at herself. “You know, the Realm has brought you to me in lucid dreams. Five times. The first three, I told you how I felt. And you smiled. Then you were gone. I got fooled each time.” She hangs her head. “It was the fifth time that it was really you.”

“I remember,” Terra whispers. 

“I couldn’t say how I felt, but you took those precious few seconds we had to tell me not to give up. I realized later that I needed that more than saying anything.” She sighs, her breath parched from the helmet. “I never expected to say it again, here, of all places, but now… Now you’re here. And I love you.”

Terra leans forward, bracing her arm, the cusp between her shoulder and neck. He feels the inner padding of his gloves. They can’t take their helmets off, not here, but a swelling of solace fills him. For a moment, he forgets where he is, his imagination only seeing her face, his heart asking to break the metal and touch her.

“Do you have any idea how important you are to me?” he asks. 

She breathes like she’s laughing. “I have an inkling.”

He leans his helmet against hers. “With all my heart,” he says. 

“I thought so.” She squeezes his gauntlet. 

When they get out, the first thing he’ll do is take her in arms. 

“I think we’re close,” Aqua says, talking about Eurydice. 

They have to see the light of day first. When they get out, the first thing he’ll see is her smile.

“Let’s do it and get out here.”

Beyond the next archway is a new place: a cavern maze, the walls roughed up by raw mineral, crystals glowing pastel colors in the dark. It’s beautiful in its own expression, a small memory of whatever the Realm took and couldn’t digest. The single paths here are disorienting, the walls littered with natural dips and holes to take shortcuts.

The cave opens up to a jagged, rocky clearing, its natural structure much like a coliseum. He and Aqua stand at the top. The boulders cut off a clear sight of the path below, a single star in the sky and a single fig tree at the bottom, its exposed roots dug into a pond. Terra and Aqua descend, the rocks down here taller.

“Prepare yourself,” Aqua says, taking the lead.

Terra summons his Keyblade too, bracing himself for Heartless. A shadow moves near the tree, hiding behind one of the roots.

A surprised shriek comes from the tree, like it’s been woken up, and it shifts. The roots straighten out, the branches curl over and sharpen like claws. Cut through the trunk is the shape of a heart, empty and black inside. No yellow eyes. 

“What is that thing?” Terra yells before dodging. The tree slams its branches between him and Aqua. 

Terra trips. A tree root chokes his ankle, pulling him from under the dirt. 

Aqua doesn’t see it happening. She scrambles and ducks behind a boulder before the earth behind her collapses into a sinkhole. She climbs the boulder and jumps onto the canopy.

The tree rocks viciously to knock her off but she stabs the bark with her Keyblade to hold on. It digs its vines and branches into the ground. A flash of purple lighting cracks the boulders into halves. 

Terra cuts himself free. The root shrivels, and the ground it touched caves into nothingness. He dashes, taking fast cover behind boulders. It’s hard to tell if he’s effective since he doesn’t know whether the tree has blind spots. 

When roots shoot up to throttle him and fail, they punish the earth instead, ripping away respites and hiding spots. If enough of the dirt sinks, the boulders fall with it.

Terra can only keep running.

The only signs that Aqua is okay are the flashes of light from her Keyblade, spellcasting and waves of reflective blues crushing the tree. Stuck on the canopy, Aqua doesn’t have much room  to escape when the ground is collapsing at random. 

Terra yells and charges towards the tree, calling upon his Keyblade to transform into his glider. He slams into the roots, all of his offense and magic building up and combusting against the bark.

The tree tumbles and Aqua lets go. 

Terra catches her and flies up. He hovers a rock that is still holding on at the edge of a newly formed cliff.

A dark lightning bolt strikes from above and Aqua summons a barrier to protect them.

“It’s her,” Aqua says, straining to keep the barrier intact.

“That can’t be possible.”

“We don’t know what the Darkness can do to the dead. We don’t know anything.” Aqua chokes on her words. “But that’s Eurydice, I know it.”

The tree scratches at nothing and wails, its roots crumbling hard onto the ground with every step it makes. Eurydice sounds like anger, a need to make sure everyone else suffers with her. 

“The hole in her trunk, where her heart would be if she wasn’t dead.”

“Terra—”

“Say no more.”

He revs his glider and charges towards the clearing, now a gaping hole sunk down the middle with no bottom. Terra sticks to the cliff sides. Aqua jumps off from the back, high into the sky, waiting for his next move.

Terra lets go and holds on to his Keyblade’s grip. It stretches and transforms into a whip. He slaps one of the branches where it hooks, and slams his fist onto the ground. The tree careens. He keeps pulling, forcing the tree flat against the ground.

From the sky, Aqua points her Keyblade towards the trunk and calls. A beam of light strikes through the heart void, glowing. 

The tree shrieks and thrashes. Terra is thrown off and the tree slaps Aqua out of its way. Aqua lands on the side of a cliff, climbing up. The tree stampedes towards her with the motion to crush her. 

Aqua yells and yanks herself over, rolling onto her back, pointing her Keyblade up again. Her light blinds this time, a force that shocks the air and pushes everything with swept pressure. As though Aqua has summoned water, Terra is thrown, the currents taking him away. 

He lands and rolls. It’s quiet. 

His muscles ache and sting. He’ll have bruises but those don’t matter. Terra stumbles when he stands, leaning on a boulder near him. He peers over, praying for the image of Aqua climbing over the hole, but what he sees is a picture from before the nightmare: the clearing back in its original state, as though he has hallucinated everything. The rocky exterior makes it hard for him to notice anyone. If she’s crouching due to pain, if she’s stranded somewhere, knocked out…

His knees give out when he runs, and he tumbles down the hill. Summoning his glider, Terra asks it to carry his slacked weight. There is no puddle at the bottom anymore. He keeps himself up high where he has a vantage point, calling her name. There’s no sight of her. 

“I won’t be fooled. You’ll take me to her,” he tells the Realm. He scans. No sign of her. What if she’s buried beneath the earth...

A pale glow flickers between rocks.

He drops.

Aqua isn’t here. In her place is a green, ghostly apparition of a woman in a simple, flowy dress that allows for dancing, her long hair swaying to zephyr. Terra doesn’t need to ask for her name. His voice croaks. “Where is she?”

“Of whom do you speak?” Eurydice says. The ghost has no voice but a loud breath, as though she is whispering right into his ear. 

“Aqua!” he calls but he gets no answer. No sound of the pebbles crumpled by her bootsteps, nor the clank of armor. 

“Ah,” Eurydice sighs. “The one who looks like a naiad. A water nymph.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“In the labyrinth.”

Terra turns over his shoulder and starts up the hill. Where is the entrance they used to get here? 

“If you enter the labyrinth, you will lock her inside, Keybearer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” His helmet feels tight. “How do you know about Keyblades?”

“The body is an entrapment, a vessel designed to define concepts that we can’t understand. What we call prayers, offerings, angels, the Light, the fountain of the gods, Keyblades, Kingdom Hearts, Paradise, Mount Olympus—all bear the same resemblance depending on the language we use. Without a body, I am not burdened by any of those barriers.” She holds her hands together with reverence. “Your armor glimmers like a star.”

“Can you feel her then? Is she hurt?”

“She is with you.”

That’s the same thing people say to him about Eraqus. Your Master will always be with you, no matter where you are. You just need the faith to know he’s there. 

I’m sure he’s proud of you.

I’m sure he knows how much you love him. He’s with you.

“Aqua!” Terra bolts into a run, picking whatever direction because this clearing is a circle and there is no exit. He’ll have to break one open. His helmet presses on the pulse in his neck. He’s losing oxygen. He’s gasping. He’s removing his helmet, collapsing to his knees, yelling at the most his lungs could give him, now that his voice is no longer muffled by metal. “Aqua!”

His throat throbs.

“No panic, no haven for panic, Keybearer.”

Terra stares at the dirt under him—cracked from drought, a single pebble and a patch of grass. “You should have taken me,” he wheezes. 

The ground rumbles and he snaps up, dying to see if it’s her. A giant hand pounds towards him, attached to a giant body with beedy yellow eyes and tentacles for a face. A Darkside, towering over him, watching him like it’s going to grant a wish. 

“Keybearer,” Eurydice warns.

The Darkside digs its fingers into the dirt like the roots of a tree. A black puddle opens up a pathway for the sprawl of eyes to crawl out. 

Terra would summon his Keyblade but he’s slow and tired. Numb. His skin is exposed to the Realm, and it seeps into him. It lulls him, it quiets him. There’s no sanity better than the world the mind makes up.

The Darkside grabs him. 

Terra is tired, watching for a hint of blue when he sees black. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra.

“Aqua.” 

Terra wakes submerged in an ocean. He reaches for her but grabs air. 

He’s gently sinking. 

So he’s lost her. He’s failed at his duty of protecting someone who needs his help. This is why Aqua is stronger than him. Terra could never survive in a place like this, he could never withstand twelve years of this torture. 

“Aqua, I’m so sorry.” He wants to cry but he can’t. The Realm won’t let him, anesthetizing the fall of tears. 

What is in the ocean with him? A monster he can’t see? Will it have teeth? Will it swallow him? Or will it watch him float here, waiting for him to turn so he could become one with it? Terra could let go here—

—but a faint glow hovers near, like breath to a limp body, like a light at the exit. There’s still time and a chance. If he can open his eyes, then Aqua could, wherever she is.

Eurydice watches the amoebas in the water, floating by herself. 

Terra swims to her. 

“‘Twasn’t a long wait,” she whispers when he approaches.

“I’m sorry for turning my back on you,” he tells her. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Eurydice smiles at him. She looks sickly, hollowed cheeks down to the lines of her skull. But if she was healthy, she would be the beauty that captivated people in the forest. 

Terra takes her wrist and gravity takes them. They gently land on solid ground, in the black, in the middle of nothing. Endless dark, endless shadow, endless lack of everything.

“We can’t go anywhere without Aqua. We have to find her first.” Though Terra doesn’t know where he is or which direction he should take.

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere.”

“What does that mean, though? She isn’t here? Then where is she?”

“Below. Nowhere and the end. At the beginning, where you can’t see.”

Terra jerks forward to beg, but a ghost is the last person to ask for answers. He trembles. 

“You have a kind face,” Eurydice says. “The bards would have sung in honor of you.”

That’s no consolation. Terra sobs but it’s dry. 

“Beware, Keybearer.”

He hears the sloshing of water. His ankles are sunk under. 

If he despairs, the Darkness will take him. If he stays calm, he’s betraying her. 

“Aqua, what do I do?”

“I called to Lady Aqua because I saw her Light,” Eurydice says, nodding slowly. “The only star in the dark. I would trust her choice, always. I believe in the Fates.” She brings her hand to her chest. “I believe she brought me you.”

The truth stings, a slap to the face, the swallow of a knife, the burn of the tongue with a lighted match. He can’t bear it, but he has to. Aqua would trust him with anything. 

“I…” He is such a horrible person, looking at the face of the needy and the hurt but thinking about someone else. He can’t do it. He has to. “I was supposed to hold her when we got out.”

“We were to be married.”

Terra feels as though a pail of water was dumped on him. He takes a hard look at Eurydice, at how she’s trying to warn him with bulging eyes, distorting. Ghosts are emotional. “What happened to you?”

“I died. Vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra doesn’t want to ask, afraid of where this conversation will go. “And Orpheus?”

She brightens up, washed over by nostalgia. “He came for me. With his gift of song, he moved Hades enough to agree to be charitable. Hades granted me freedom so long as Orpheus accepted the terms.” 

Of course, Hades and his contracts. 

Eurydice’s face ashens more than it possibly can. “I was to follow. Orpheus was to lead me to the sunlit earth, so long as he did not look back at me while I was in the dark.” She pauses, as though her lips are sewn together. Talking about this hurts her. “So Orpheus led with much enthusiasm. So much at peace. I was to finally be with my beloved again, to smell the pomegranates and taste the olives.

“Love is powerful but Death more so. Every step was a moment to rethink. He could not hear me behind him, for I was a mere shade. Orpheus could not trust Hades. I could feel his anticipation, his desperate need to hold me dearly, his doubt that he was being played.”

“I can’t blame him.”

“At the end, right as the light was about to touch us, Orpheus lost his faith. He looked back to see my face.” Eurydice hugs herself. “I gave him my farewell and kind regards, then I was whisked away, back into the Underworld.”

“I’m so sorry.” Terra swallows, not liking what this is supposed to mean for him. “Aqua would have chosen to help you.”

“Will you set me free?”

“Yes, of course but—” He inhales. “How could I leave her?”

The look on Eurydice’s face stops him. “I did what was asked of me. I followed him. I kept close. I was loyal. I spoke to him though he could not hear me. And yet he turned and tore us apart. I have yet to understand what I did wrong to let him doubt me.”

“He didn’t doubt you.”

“Then why hesitate to trust Lady Aqua?”

Like a knife to the throat, Terra falls to his knees and grips at his chest, the guilt inside so heavy and thick that he wants to rip his armor off and cut it open, dig it all out so he could finally breathe. 

If she were here, Aqua would have told him to save Eurydice. There’s no denying that.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hoping Aqua could hear him. “I’d give you my whole heart if it meant you were here.” He swallows. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be back, just wait for me.” He doesn’t want to stand up, for that would mean that he’d have to walk. But he tells himself that there must be ways around this. There must be an exception, a line in the fine print. “Wait for me, I’ll come to you. I swear with every will I have to live.”

Terra stands. He summons his helmet. When he wears it, he finally cries, soft tears that feel warm then cool, muted because they’re delayed.

“Okay,” he tells Eurydice. “Let’s go.” 

He wades across the water, ripples that fan out and reflecting light that isn’t there. 

Eurydice floats by his side. “I’m grateful. The vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra stops a chuckle. “Yeah, you told me.” Repetition is a symptom for the eldritch, an obsession with what life was. Eurydice deserves so much better. “Do you have to go back to Hades?”

“Orpheus is with him. Once we reunite, we will walk the Underworld together.”

“But it’s a prison.”

Eurydice glances at him. “Man and god are the same. They associate death with misery and see the Underworld as nothing else. But we don’t see what you see.”

“The thought of Hades hating his job is satisfying.”

“He makes for an upsetting neighbor.” 

Terra scoffs. 

“But I shall be content. Death is powerful but Love more so.”

Terra doesn’t know how to respond, but it spells for him a kind of peace. The Realm numbs everything it touches. As long as they play by the rules, it’s not so bad. Aqua is the only balm he’d need.

“How shall we escape?”

“Ven—my best friend—is waiting on the other side. You see that light?” Ahead of them, far in the distance, is a star. “He has a door open for us.”

“But we’ve been walking for so long and yet it does not come closer. Are you not looking forward to seeing him?”

“Of course I am.” Terra slows to a stop. The water has reached to his waist.

Eurydice studies him with sadness. “You mean to stay here.”

Terra doesn’t answer Eurydice’s remark. “I mean to see you free and happy.” He holds out his hand and she takes it. 

Nothing is truly ever following Terra here, for the Darkness wants him to think so. So he will stay, walk forward and walk far without a map or a compass. Eventually, he’ll have to cross paths with her. There is no other place he’d want to go, and any world without her is a world behind him. With that vow to himself, the star finally comes close, the black fading into gray.

“Ven?” Terra calls.

“I have always wondered what it would be like to cross over,” Eurydice says.

Heavy, loud footsteps approach them. Ven appears in the light, in a box colored in white, his armor worn. “Terra? Finally, I’ve been—” He jerks his head towards Eurydice’s direction, the sharp rabbit ears of his helmet tilting. He leans forward as if to peer inside. He does not have a reflection in the water. “Where is Aqua?”

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere,” Eurydice says.

“You don’t see her?” Terra asks, his voice brittle. A tiny part of his heart was hoping he was wrong.

“Dude,” Ven says, “I can barely see you. You’re like an outline.” 

“That’s proof enough.”

“Such lies,” Eurydice says. 

“What is the ghost talking about?” Ven asks.

“It’s okay, Ven,” Terra says. “I’m going to find Aqua.” 

“I’ll come with you.”

“She’ll never forgive me if you follow.” Terra hangs his head. “Please don’t ask me to leave her.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m not afraid of the Realm of Darkness.”

Eurydice turns to Terra. “Such bravery yet you are frightened to cross the threshold for her. Is it natural that faith betrays you? Don’t do this to her. Don’t punish her.” 

Ven looks at her, looks at Terra, looks at her. 

Terra says, “Once I find her, I’ll be okay.” He moves to turn. 

Eurydice holds his shoulder. “Many don’t know how to love. They only know the fall, and they fall, waiting for peace to replace the ecstasy and despair. But it will not come if you do not beckon it. May you listen to your heart?”

His heart aches. 

Ven grabs his forearm. “I’m going to listen to the freaky lady. She knows more than you.”

“Ven—”

“I can’t lose both of you. We’ll figure out an action plan, and”—Ven uses all his weight and both of his hands to try to pull Terra over—“you’re coming with me.”

“I can’t leave her here.”

“We’re not! Come on, man, she’s strong.”

“Step forward with me. The vipers are most unpleasant,” Eurydice says.

Terra holds onto the doorframe. The sun hits his gloved fingers, baking them. Aqua, what do I do?

Terra, please. 

That’s Aqua’s voice, far away. For the Darkness wants him to think nothing is following him.

“You promise me we’ll come back?” Terra asks Ven.

“Of course. Anything for her.”

Terra doesn’t sob when he wants to. He doesn’t make a decision—he leaps, stepping forward into the light. Eurydice follows.

But a heavy ton, the Darkness, drags him back. Hands from the water grab his cape into bunches and pull on his neck. They hold onto his legs and bend his knees, desperate, like beggars that need his help, need the stars that glimmer in his armor.

One hand grabs his forearm, metal on metal, like it’s telling him not to forget something. 

Terra gasps. 

He grabs that hand and throws himself forward with a yell, ripping away from the Darkness begging him to stay, knocking Ven out of his balance, and pulling her out. 

Terra lands on his back and hears her gasp and whimper out of shock, relieved. He throws his helmet off.

“Aqua.”

Aqua’s blue armor stares at the grass while she takes in the scene, her sobs controlled and hushed. 

Terra pulls her helmet off to look at her face, stained with tears and tired smiles. “Aqua.”

“You didn’t hear me?” she asks, crying quietly. “No one heard or saw me, I was there the entire time.”

“I’m an idiot.” Terra weeps with her. He dispels his armor and touches her pauldron to dismiss hers. He holds her tightly. She’s warm and sweaty, small in comparison to him, folded into his chest like she fits perfectly. “Call me an idiot, I deserve it.”

Aqua’s cries tremble into laughter as she buries her face in his neck, twisting his suspenders in her fists. Terra lets her weight pull him onto the grass. “That girl was right. You smell good.”

“What are we talking about now?” Ven removes his helmet and brushes through his hair. Terra is so happy to see that chubby face. “Everything’s so confusing.”

“These girls have been chasing Terra. They’re harpies.” She looks up at him and smirks. “I don’t think they’d be pleased if they saw us like this.”

Terra chuckles into her hair. “I don’t care.”

“Wait,” Ven says, scoffing. “Now we’re going to be murdered by rabid fangirls? Ugh, Terra, why are you always inviting trouble? We don’t need it.” He slams his helmet back on. “Stay here, I’ll scout to see if it’s safe. I’m kicking your ass when we get back home.”

That’s fine. Terra will hold onto Aqua here, stroke his thumb on her cheek, wipe her hair off of her face, massage his hand over her exposed back, under the straps. It’s overcast, the clouds a respite. 

Flowers named eurydice watch over them, their anthers hanging close. 

“She’s okay,” Aqua whispers, sighing. Her body relaxes. “Thank you.”

Terra kisses her forehead and brings her waist closer. His star in the darkness. She blinks from behind blotted clouds.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #terraqua week #kingdom hearts fanfiction #orpheus #eurydice #AHHHHHH omg i finally finished this monster #the longest piece in the collection for sure #my fic

[hualianff]

T.F.T.A (I.H.) II 《I》

William’s Theme — Sophism

The company that hired XL is called Paradise Deals Enterprise, a corporate business that provides stock investment services. It’s a fairly new company that has impressive success rates. Furthermore, customer reviews are more than ecstatic about their results.

Two months prior, XL had been looking for a new job after being let go from his truck-driving position. He restarted the process of posting his updated resume to a job-searching website. Skills XL excelled at included customer service, cleaning, and physical labor. While he also enjoyed calligraphy, martial arts, and photography, XL came to find those were not strengths companies would hire him for.

Which makes it all the more surprising how XL was hired only one month after being released from his previous job, and by a prosperous business no less. A man named Yin Yu reached out to XL through email, introducing himself as the associate manager to one of the CEOs, offering the job with no interview process needed. After looking over the descriptions of cleaning and completing simple tasks for company employees, then seeing the salary, XL emailed a positive response back within twelve hours.

SQX rejoiced with XL about the job acquisition, and they went out to a nice dinner to celebrate with XL’s two other close friends, MQ and FX. While they were skeptical at first, they couldn’t help but be satisfied that XL’s luck had changed for the better in job hunting.

Now, XL wakes up to his alarm blaring its usual obnoxious beep beep beep, the clock displaying that it is 5 a.m. XL slowly opens his eyes, not quite having gone back to sleep after the nightmare that shook him three hours earlier. With a deep breath in and out, XL reaches over to bop the alarm off. He rolls out of bed and stretches with a tiny mewl.

One hour until his shift begins.

XL leaves his apartment thirty minutes later, wearing the company outfit shipped to him a few days ago: dark gray pants and shirt, subtle enough to blend in and confirm that XL does indeed work at Paradise Deals. Using his out-dated phone for directions, XL begins walking towards his destination. Luckily, XL found a reasonably priced apartment that’s close to the downtown area, and in ten minutes, he’s scanning the tall buildings in search of the investment company.

After five more minutes of walking, XL doesn’t have to look hard to find the tallest building on the block, with dark maroon bricks and enormous tinted windows. XL’s jaw drops open in astonishment. When he looks back at his phone, he sees the word  “headquarters” after Paradise Deals Entertainment.

Ah, they must have relocated their headquarters to a city as big-scale as Shanghai to maximize customer engagement and business deals.

XL enters through one of the numerous revolving doors. He approaches the desk, informing the receptionist that he is the new custodian. She asks for his license and a few more questions about his application before nodding with approval. XL smiles for his company identification card and is told to wait to be shown around the building.

At first glance, XL looks around to see many people walk in and out of Paradise Deals. Suddenly, the five revolving doors—in addition to two automatic and stagnant doors—make sense. Additionally, there are eight elevator doors, four on either side, where the constant stream of people continues. Just from the outside view, XL could guess there were no less than thirty floors.

The people walking around ranged from sleek businessmen to others dressed in outlandish outfits, almost hippie-looking. XL spots a woman carrying an instrument on her back, another man in an athletic tracksuit, and a couple in wedding attire.

They were an odd sort of people, XL thought. But then again, many considered him to be odd. Besides, what constituted who was odd and who was ordinary anyways? The people walking out of the elevators all wore expressions of pure joy and satisfaction, so who is XL to judge them by their appearances?

A massive clock shows it is 6 a.m., right on the dot. A man dressed in a simple black suit steps out of the elevators from the right side, heading towards XL. If it weren’t for XL’s hypersensitive observant skills developed with the tough jobs he’s done in the past, the man wouldn’t be noticeable at all, with how briskly and silently he moves.

“Hello, you must be Xie Lian,” the man greets. XL nods. The other man holds out a hand. “I am Yin Yu. We exchanged a few emails regarding your employment. I am very grateful you accepted our position.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Yu,” XL says with a kind smile, briefly shaking YY’s hand. “I’m grateful you reached out in the first place.”

“Wonderful. Allow me to bring you to your work area.”

With that said, YY gestures for XL to follow him into an elevator on the left side, explaining a few housekeeping things about the first floor before they head on up.

As they’re riding up in the elevator, YY explains that XL is not responsible for cleaning all the floors.

“That would be quite outrageous, wouldn’t it?” YY comments off-handedly, checking his phone for a quick second.

“Regardless, the pay is abnormally high for custodian services, don’t you think?” XL questions, adjusting the collar of his shirt. His hand gravitates to his nameplate, tapping the cool metal with a sense of pride. “I’m sure I could be very efficient during the fifteen-hour shift.”

YY’s eyebrows furrow at that, which XL doesn’t catch as he looks at all the levels. There are forty levels in total, sectioned off into four distinct categories by color: jade green, royal blue, maple-red, and pearl white.

“In that case, you will only be in charge of Mr. He Xuan’s territory. This includes floors 11-20,” YY explains, the elevator arriving on the twentieth floor. “I’ll escort you to his office so he can provide more specific instructions on how to manage his domain.”

“Sounds good,” XL proclaims, exiting the elevator with a bounce in his step. YY leads XL down a long, single corridor with numerous doors on both sides, the symbol of a fish painted on each door. The color of the carpeted floor is the same as the elevator levels, royal blue–endlessly rich like the ocean.

Perhaps he will be vacuuming the length of the corridor? Wiping down the doors and polishing the knobs? As he passes a few paintings of random faces and sea creatures, XL ponders if he shall dust too?

It appears YY is leading XL down to the large set of doors at the end of the hall. Before they make it to Mr. He Xuan’s office, XL rushes up to tap YY on the shoulder.

“If I may ask, what are these rooms? Will I be cleaning inside them as well?” XL asks, a bit hesitant. YY stops in his tracks, pocketing his phone and giving XL a wary look.

“You will not be required to clean them. The employees take care of that on their own,” YY speaks slowly, seriously. “Never go inside unless you are specifically requested to.”

When XL vigorously nods in understanding, YY whirls around and continues walking. When they arrive at the set of doors, YY rings the intercom on the side of the wall.

“Black Water, your helper is here,” YY says while looking at the upper left corner of the hallway. XL figures there must be a camera that captures who is on the outside of the door. Without thinking about it, XL enthusiastically waves to the camera, a warm smile etched into his face.

There’s an awkward moment of silence, and XL pauses his hand mid-wave, wondering if he is being too much. But according to the quirk in YY’s lips, the other man didn’t seem to think so.

A muffled voice croaks through the intercom.

“He may enter.”

《III》

#tgcf #heaven offical's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #yin yu #he xuan #TBC #paradise deals enterprise offers the best deals trust me #yay xie lian has a job #employee of the month yes i'm aware this is his first day #cerdrabbles #tian guan ci fu #I am once again asking you to read the webtoon purple hyacinth

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 5: Martian March

Chapters: 5/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

I'm going back to Saturn where the rings all glow

Rainbow, moonbeams, and orange snow

On Saturn, people live to be two hundred and five

Going back to Saturn where the people smile.

                                              Saturn-Stevie Wonder

our rooms glittered. They were faced in massive scale pietra dura stone patterns from floor to ceiling. Gray, black, and white dominated, with a surprising amount of green mixed in, as well as startling pops of orange-red, blue, yellow, purple, and bright pink.

The designs were large and geometric, almost a sister style to the classic Art Deco that you saw on the older buildings downtown, mixed in among the flavorless glass towers and Brutalist boxes that defined the 'modern' era.

This main room housed a delicately carved stone couch and chairs, around a low stone table, and several stone shelves and storage boxes. These were all made of a black stone that held numerous yellowish-green crystals in their matrix, all polished so that the crystals shimmered.

This same stone appeared in the patterns on the walls and floor, as very thin panes on a pale backing, highlighting the colors of their crystals. This, along with a similar black stone with reddish-orange crystals, and a dark gray, large-grained stone that sparkled at any angle, was contrasted against the now familiar creamy white and pale orange. Here and there, inlays of silvery wire brought organic shapes to the mix.

The cloudy crystal made a reappearance in a round, well-lit, domed room Loki described as a 'Solar', even though no sun could reach this place. Instead, the clearest of the crystal had been set into the dome, all of it covering the mysterious lights, creating a bright light source that illuminated the room to something close to midday. The walls were covered in the cloudy crystal, which, in the bright light, shone with veils and flashes of iridescent blue.

On one wall there was a subtle inlay of  translucent gray stone, in the shape of clouds, that shone in splashes of blue and purple. Cleverly inlaid within them were specific pieces of the same type of stone, in the shape of lightning bolts that sparked yellow when viewed at the right angle, but were invisible from others.

He showed you the antechamber that connected your rooms and his, all in black and green. Even the lights were covered in thin panes of green crystals thickly packed in black matrix, casting a dim, viridian light over the whole chamber.

You decided that room was extremely creepy, and you never wanted to be in it.

The bath room was much better, ridiculously large, with a shower just out in the open, a wide counter with a mirror of polished metal, a huge tub carved right into a semi-finished block of stone, and a strange toilet tucked away in a stall in the corner. It was all big enough for you to move around in easily, though you mentioned that you would need a chair for the shower. Loki vowed to have one brought immediately.

But your bedroom was the obvious jewel. Loki puffed up with pride as he showed it off, as if he were the one who designed it. There were jewels in here, bright, bubblegum pink, golden yellow, and apple green in elaborate platinum settings, affixed to the walls. There was more cloudy gray and white crystal in here, with their blue and purple, pink and yellow flashes. The lights were clustered around the ceiling like stars, and the bed was another of the precious rare wooden objects, a four poster canopy bed, draped with a gauzy veil.

Most surprising of all, the bedroom had a window-or rather, a doorway out to a semi-circular balcony that overlooked what must be the main palace courtyard and entrance. When you stepped out onto it, you could see lines of guards-more people than you'd seen in one place since you'd been here. They framed the long, rectangular space every ten feet or so, in bright, brassy armor and sunny yellow capes.

This was clearly a cape kind of place.

It was very strange. You could have sworn you hadn't climbed any ramps, and you certainly hadn't gone up any stairs, but here you were, at least six stories up, and there were more stories above you.

“You must be clever builders.” you said without thinking about it.

“Our engineering capabilities are the envy of the galaxy, it's true.” Loki boasted. You believed him. All around the courtyard more balconies jutted out. Several dozen feet to the side of yours, the balcony you assumed must belong to Loki was connected to another large balcony on the opposite side by an elegant walkway, supported by slender pillars. There was a round platform in the center, and red curtains obscured the balcony on the other side.

“We can address large crowds from there, or call emergency meetings of the guards, or the other high nobles.” Loki said, following your gaze. “That's who lives on this floor. Myself, my brother, all of the most important Asgardians, and now you.”

But not for long, if you had any opportunity. “Uh, I'm honored.”

“How do you like them, though?” he pressed, “Is the décor to your liking? The size? We've been working on it for months, but we can still change things if you need.”

“Months?” you gasped, shocked. “You guys did all this in just months?”

Asgard had come to Earth a little under two years ago, decimated and begging for assistance. Thor led them, but no one knew Loki had come along. Thor himself served as his own liaison to the United Nations, bringing his case before the leaders of Earth, to secure a place for his people.

Obviously, it had worked. Thor's reputation and high-profile friends, as well as his surprisingly diplomatic and optimistic outlook had both charmed and discombobulated most people who spoke to him. People liked and respected him, but no one expected him to be savvy.

It had worked out very well for him and his people. They had secured some secret land that the entire U.N. had remained tight-lipped about. Then, a few months in, Thor had stopped making appearances, leaving Earth-Asgard relations to his advisors; an abrasive, undiplomatic woman whom you loved to watch, and a stoic and imposing man with unsettling eyes. Rumors flew for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention. There had been so much to fight for at home.

Did anyone even know you were gone? You were supposed to attend a march tonight. Or last night? You didn't know how long you had been asleep. Surely someone noticed you were missing.

But if they did, how would you even know?

“-harness the sun's energy over the long rotation period so that we can build even more efficiently.” Loki was saying. “We've done an admirable job for such a reduced population, but there is so much more to do.”

“And you took them away from that to build this for me?”

“I took them away from this to build special chambers for the princess of Asgard.” Loki corrected, “It was not a waste, nor was it superfluous. It was for someone important.”

“I'm not.” you insisted, “I'm just some rando they snatched up and tossed at you. I'm not princess material.”

“I will find out what is behind this.” he said, “But until I can, I want you to feel comfortable here. This is all yours now, and more.”

You couldn't, you couldn't allow yourself. You weren't supposed to be here. It was only a matter of time before this mix up was discovered, and a swap was arranged. You'd go home, and some other woman would take your place.

How horrible.

“But is everything to your liking? Do you need more light? More space? Is the bed all right for your leg? A good height?”

You were more than a little wary about getting into bed with him here, but as you hobbled over to it, he remained at a distance. You sank onto the plush mattress, with it's silky green sheets and thick comforter. It was very nice, soft and smooth, and warm, despite being placed on solid stone. Hopefully the blanket would ward off the slight chill that followed everywhere you had been so far.

“It's a good height,” you said, “especially if I get a new cane.”

“Excellent. Would you like to see my quarters?' he asked, “You may come and go between them as you please.”

Which meant that he could too. You didn't find that reassuring.

“Uh...isn't that, um, inappropriate?” you asked, casting about for any reason to refuse. “We haven't even, um, there hasn't even been a wedding!”

He paused, then his face broke into a beautiful, glowing smile. “Of course. I understand. You want that big celebration, naturally. Well, it is only fair, isn't it?” He sat down on the floor next to your bed, as if forgetting that he was a prince and a god, a powerful figure, abandoning his dignity to sit on the floor like a child.

“Do you want to plan it, or leave it to the advisors? Asgard is very good at grand weddings, but if you've had some specific plan for it, I'm sure we can accommodate it.”

“Uh...” This would be the perfect opportunity to stall. You could buy so much time with this! “I would like to plan it. There's things I've been wanting to do since I was a little girl. It would be a dream come true, to plan my own wedding.”

Not strictly true. Certainly, as a little girl you had contemplated flowers and a dress. There being a groom was far less important.

“Then begin any time you like.” Loki said warmly. “I'll have notebooks brought to you, and you can plan out whatever you want. Whatever it is, we can do it for you.”

You almost felt bad for what you were going to do, but on the other hand, you didn't trust him and his terrifying adoration, and horrible power over your life and safety. You'd make as many impossible demands and take up as much time as you possibly could. If it kept you safe. If it kept you from the nightmare scenario.

“I will have your bathing chair brought. You seem tired; shall I have dinner brought to you? We can dine in your audience room. We can have you measured for a new prosthetic, and for a new cane as well. The artificers will set to work on them immediately.”

“Um, sure. That sounds fine.” Dinner would be welcome, after only one apple and one cup of water. And a new, higher tech leg and cane might help you escape faster. You should take every opportunity available to you.

Loki helped you out to the largest room, with it's bookshelves and seating, and saw that you were comfortable. Then he bid you stay put and wait for a bit, while he got everything set up. You were in no shape to try for an escape right now; you would just bide your time.

You waited patiently, taking in the details of the beautifully precise stonework that made up your new-temporary-living quarters. What incredible workmanship. Shame it had been wasted on you.

Maybe someone else would have been thrilled. To have wealth and power, security and luxury, a handsome prince just handed to them with no effort on their part at all. That wasn't what you wanted though; you didn't want to join the lucky ones. You didn't want to be lifted out of your hardships and set above your peers, you wanted those hardships to be eliminated for everybody. You didn't want to be a social climber, you wanted a more equitable society. This fantasy was worthless to you. It had all been done without your consent.

A quiet knock on the door grabbed your attention. You didn't answer immediately, and the knock was hesitantly repeated.

“Um, come in?” you called.

The two adolescents you had run off before cracked the door open and peeked their heads in.

“Your highness?” the girl asked.

“May we enter?” the boy finished.

“Yeah, come in. I'm in a better mood now.” you said calmly. No need to be rude to them now that she knew what was going on. If Loki hadn't even known about the kidnapping, there was no way these kids were in on it.

“We were sent here to get measurements?” the boy-Andvarri wasn't it-asked shyly. “For a prosthetic leg, and a cane?”

“Yes, I was told you might be coming. I'm sorry about earlier: I was very disoriented and confused.”

“No harm done, your highness. This won't take long.”

The girl-Bjarkehilde-helped you stand as Andvarri took several measurements and asked about your preferences in weight and materials, flexibility and points of articulation, even colors and decorations.

They were going to put in a lot of effort to help you escape. A fine efficient leg, a sturdy lightweight cane, and Bjarkehilde even asked about what kinds of medication you needed, and for what.

Bjarkehild was surprisingly close to your height and build as well. That stayed in the back of your mind for a while after the two of them left.

As the minutes passed, you began to realize that you were going to need some kind of clock. You had no idea what time it was. There was no visible sunlight, the lights in your rooms hadn't changed at all, and no one had mentioned it at all. How did the Asgardians know? Was some kind of internal timekeeping part of their natural abilities?

Maybe it was the nebulous grasp of time, maybe it was the fading adrenaline and setting in of weariness, maybe it was residual drugs working their way out of your systems, but you began to feel strange as you waited for Loki to return. Either you felt hot, or the slight chill that was prevalent in this place was getting worse. Perhaps you had been staring at the artistic walls for too long, because the colors seemed to be vacillating between painfully saturated, and fuzzy at the edges.

It seemed to take forever for Loki to return, carrying a tray of food and drink. This he set on the lovely stone table before you, and then took a seat in a nearby chair.

“You must be ravenous by now.” he said, and you were. You leaned forward to inspect the offerings. The metal tray was filled with small stone bowls and plates, and two small cups of liquid. Was this how meals were traditionally served in Asgard? A great variety of small portions?

One of the cups turned out to be orange drink, from powder. You recognized that taste from your childhood. The dry air had made your tongue rough, and the acidic flavor was a blast on your tastebuds, as bright as the colors on the walls. The second cup was some kind of brown broth, possibly also from powder, as it got thicker at the bottom of the cup. There were dried apricots, soaked in honey, and dates, a barley porridge with a swirl of honey and a dash of cinnamon. There were common Saltine-type crackers that went with a very strange stew that looked like it was made, not just with re-hydrated vegetables, but re-hydrated meat as well. It tasted fine, but the texture left something to be desired.

You barely noticed. You wolfed it all down as Loki just sat and watched, having brought nothing for himself.

“I see you needed the fuel.” he commented, after every bite was gone. “Yes, I think you will need it. Beloved, I must tell you something about that apple you ate earlier. I can see it's effects are starting to take hold. Like I said earlier, I had thought to feed it to you slowly.”

“The apple? What...what's it doing to me?” Beloved? He was taking things a bit far, wasn't he? But you definitely were feeling weird. Uncomfortable. “I had just woken up and I didn't know where I was, or what was going to happen. I didn't know where my next meal was coming from.”

“And I understand that now, as I did not then, or I would have refrained from putting it out at all. But it's too late now. For several things. We will simply have to adapt and endure.”

“Endure?”

“I will not leave your side, you may count on that.” He promised. “But that was a special apple. Its tree came from a cutting, taken from a remnant grove in Vanir territory, as part of their peace treaty with us. A sacred tree whose fruits provided the Vanir with ageless warriors. For us, they heal terrible wounds and sickness. But for you, they are known as the Apples of Immortality, and they confer a great gift indeed. But it is not without price.”

You doubled over in pain.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader

[thesoobfiles]

your highness – a. skywalker

Jealous! Anakin x Queen! Reader

Request: anon, could we get a jealous! anakin imagine?

Words: 4k

Summary: Reader is the queen of the alien planet, Roe’ Leor, a planet very rich in natural resources and starship fuel. It was previously a neutral system; however, the Republic has finally roped them in. In celebration and in honor of their alliance, the Queen has thrown a formal party to recognize this new friendship. Invitations extend to the royal family, the royal guard, royal officials as well as the staff, Republic Senators and the Jedi of course. After Ani’s met the Queen and after the dancing begins, Anakin gets jealous when he sees her dancing with another man…

A/N: I’ve been experiencing the BIGGEST writers block and lack of time to write and I’m SO sorry this took so long. I also had trouble trying to think of something that isn’t overplayed like jedi! reader and senator! reader... I’ve had this in my drafts for a week now and I apologize I haven’t published it until now... I hope it was worth the wait though :) A couple things I want to point out: 1) Roe’ Leor is a production of my imagination; it’s not a real planet in the Star War universe, 2) I imagine the handmaiden with a soft British accent, 3) you don’t really get to fill in a lot because you’re an alien and your skin color, eye color, etc. is already pre-determined, 4) the Roe’ Leor culture is like a mix of Indian and Haiwaiian (certain thinks like names and outfits) and 5) this Anakin is kind of like a mix between rots! Anakin and tcw! Anakin. I’m sorry I talk so much and enjoy! ~

-

I look out of my large bedroom window as my handmaiden, Lei, prepares me for the event tonight. I just love the blues and purples that color the sky when the suns set…

“I do as well, my lady.” Lei speaks up. I jump slightly at the sudden sound.

“I hadn’t realized I said that aloud…” I said, distractedly.

“Well, I’m glad you did, your majesty. The sound of your voice is always lovely to hear, no matter the scarcity.” She replies with a small smile on her face. I smile back at her. What a wonderful girl…

The thing about being Queen is I’m not allowed to speak, only under specific circumstances like negotiations. Hearing my voice should be ‘a privilege’. I think it’s nonsense; but until my request goes through Leadership, I must adhere to the rules…

Lei adjusts the pallu part of the sari and places the traditional red flower behind my ear. She spins me around to look in the full-length mirror and I smile. She always does such excellent work making sure I look presentable. I look at Lei in the mirror and whisper a ‘thank you’ in our native tongue.

“You are quite welcome, your highness.” She smiles and bows before leaving my presence.

I look in the mirror once more and really take in my appearance. The amber color of the sari and petticoat really compliments my green eyes and the vermillion of the choli, fine stitching and border look exquisite against my light orange skin. To top the whole look off, my hair is loose, free to fall in waves upon my shoulders. Luckily, it doesn’t take too much away from the golden jewelry that adorns my body; the delicate necklace hanging upon my neck and the simple, yet elegant bangles that slip towards my wrist. If there’s one thing I love about being Queen, it’s the fun I have while dressing up.

When I’m done admiring Lei’s handiwork, I straighten my back and head for the main room of the palace; where the event is being held.

Outside my door, as I expected, are two of my most trusted bodyguards – who double as my governesses – to escort me; however, what I didn’t expect was for a women from Leadership waiting for me as well. I bow politely and she bows back.

“Your grace, I’ve come before you to inform you that your request has been received and approved.” She says with a relaxed expression and a small smile.

“That’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me this information.” I reply, beyond jovial as a smile breaks out on my face.

“It was my pleasure, your majesty. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She bows and leaves me with my escorts.

Overjoyed that I can now speak as I please, I hug both of them.

“Alani, Kaila, I never thought I’d see the day.” I express my extreme happiness with the information I just received.

“We’re happy for you, your highness.” Alani replies with a smile on her face.

“We’re glad your request went through successfully.” Kaila says as she pats my back.

I give them another squeeze before I straighten up, dust off my sari and clear my throat.

“C’mon ladies, we have a party to attend.”

As I walk forwards, Alani and Kaila follow suit. We make a beeline for the balcony area of the staircase and wait just behind the doorway for my cue to enter. I can already hear the noise of my guests and the party started but a few minutes ago.

- 15 minutes earlier –

“Halt.” A guard in front of the palace stops us.

“Names.” She demands and she looks at her scroll.

“Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight.” I say in a nonchalant tone and flash her my invitation. She looks at me, at the invitation and at her scroll. She nods and looks at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.” He says politely as he too shows his invitation. The guard nods and I proceed to make my way inside only to walk into her arm. I look up at her.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, eyebrow raised in hopes of getting some answers.

“You must change your attire before entering the Queen’s palace.” She responds. Before I could open my mouth to ask my question, a women that appears to be a handmaiden approaches us with clothing in hand. Then, it dawned on me.

“This would explain why we were measured last week.” Obi-Wan voiced my thoughts as he takes his suit and I take mine.

“You may change your clothing in the rooms to the left.” She states with an authoritative tone and resumes her duties as the guard; checking the next guests invitation.

Obi-Wan and I head over to a small shack.

“Doesn’t look like much.” I comment on the rough exterior of the ‘building’.

Obi-Wan chuckles, “Wait until you see inside.” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and push the door open. My eyes widened at the sight before me. The outside is an injustice to the interior. It was magnificently structured and much larger on the inside. The small palace was completely empty except for four decently-sized ‘rooms’ in the middle of the structure.

“Never judge a book by its cover, Anakin; Leori technology isn’t anything to bat your eyes at.” He says condescendingly as he goes to change.

“Yes, master.” I reply as I walk over to the changing ‘room’. Can it even be called a room? All of the ‘walls’ are made of curtains.

I walk inside and shed the many layers of my Jedi robes along with my boots, belt and lightsaber.

“What do you know about this party, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks from his changing ‘room’.

“The Queen of Roe’ Leor has thrown this party has an act of goodwill to celebrate the alliance between the Republic and Roe’ Leor.” I say, repeating the words of the Jedi Council from earlier that week.

I gingerly pull on the blue button-up and thin black jacket that accompanies it.

“Have you ever met her?” He asks.

“The Queen? No. I hear it’s a privilege to even hear her speak much less be in her presence.” I recall from one of the many briefings on Leori culture.

I slide on the black slacks as well as the black pointed shoes and clip my lightsaber to one of the belt loop of the pants. I walk out the same time Obi-Wan does.

I look at him and raise my eyebrow to accompany my smirk, “Don’t you clean up nicely, master.” I say in a joking manner. Obi-Wan is dressed in similar clothing, just with different colors. His button up is a light brown while his suit jacket, pants and shoes are all a darker shade of the same color; like his Jedi robes.

He rolls his eyes at my comment then makes his way out of the shack and over to the entrance. I walk behind him and we walk back over to the guard.

She looks us up and down, “Proceed.” She says after she recognizes us and deems our outfits acceptable.

We walk inside and look around. Music similar to what was playing in Hondo’s bar plays softly in the background as the people make conversation. I notice that some members of the Jedi Council, such as Mace Windu and Plo Koon have already arrived and have switched their usual attire for suits. The majority of the people in attendance are Leori; however I do spot the occasional Senator and Jedi.

“Did you know that Roe’ Leor is predominantly female and that’s why they have a Queen instead of a King?” Obi-Wan pipes up from beside me as he examines the room and takes a bite of food from his plate.

“I did not…” I trail off and instead of looking at their species, I look at their gender and notice he’s right. The majority of the Leori are women. The men only seem to be caterers and the occasional official.

A horn of some sort is blown from the balcony of the staircase. The attendees quiet down and move their attention to a small girl, no more than the age of a youngling.

“Please welcome her royal highness, Queen (L/N).” She says in a high-pitched voice as ‘Queen (L/N)’ emerges from the doorway on the left. She looks…magnificent. She’s younger than I expected her to be.

The yellow and red of her sari compliments her skin well. She strolls over to the balcony and stands between her two bodyguards elegantly. Applause erupts from the crowd. Both guards hold a hand out and the applause ceases.

“Good evening, people of Roe’ Leor and representatives of the Republic. As you all know, I’ve thrown this party to celebrate our newfound friendship with the Republic. I hope you enjoy your evening as well as make friends with our new partners.” She finishes and descends down the stairs. Thunderous applause erupts once more from the people in attendance.

“I thought the Queen wasn’t allowed to speak?” I ask Obi-Wan with confusion, never taking my eyes off of her.

“Must have been a recent change in their rules…” Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard.

“Oh.” I respond simply as I take notice that the bodyguard’s leave Queen (L/N)’s side as she greets some politicians. She talks with them for a short amount of time before she scans the room and her eyes on land on me.

-

I bow as I finish my conversation with Senator Poli and Representative Jeeloy. I’ve made it my goal to introduce myself to every Republic attendee as to become familiar with one another and explain the new rule put into place by Leadership. I look around the large space and my eyes land on a rather handsome young man who already appears to be staring in my direction. I suppose I’ve found my next conversation.

I walk over to him and his eyes never leave me. A regular man would have already looked away in fear or insecurity; an interesting specimen indeed…

“Good evening gentlemen.” I say as I bow before the young man and his slightly older companion.

Now that I’m within a closer proximity, the young man is quite attractive for a Jedi. He has dirty blonde hair that falls in waves at his shoulders. His eyes are a blue so magnificent, I’ve only ever seen it in the majestic waves of our ocean. His skin is a flawless tan color and his lips look as plush as a pillow.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Anakin, your highness.” The young man, Anakin, says as he bows. He grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I can already feel my heart racing at his actions. He releases my hand, but he never takes his striking blue eyes off of me.

“Your majesty, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The older man, Obi-Wan, also bows.

“May I say, both of your names are quite unique?” I comment on the names they’ve given me.

“Thank you, my lady. May I ask yours?” Anakin questions me.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…”

“(Y/N)…” He whispers under his breath.

“…but no one every addresses me as such as it is customary to address me as ‘Queen (L/N)’ or other terms of respect including ‘your grace’, ‘your highness’, ‘your majesty’, ‘my lady’ and so forth...” I finish, matter-of-factly.

“Of course, my lady.” Anakin says as the mischievousness of a thousand younglings cross his eyes.

“How are you enjoying the party so far, Mr. Kenobi?” I ask, shifting my attention to his friend as the look he’s giving me makes my heart beat a little too fast for my taste.

“Please, Obi-Wan, your majesty. We are partners, not strangers.” He corrects me.

I nod in return, “Of course, Obi-Wan.” He continues.

“I must say, you’ve thrown a lovely party.” He comments as he scans the crowd.

“Thank you; do you like the food?” I ask, looking at both Anakin and Obi-Wan this time, “I heard many of these foods are popular on Coruscant, the Republic capital...”

“The food is excellent, your grace. Nothing to worry about.” He says reassuringly with a small smile.

“Wonderful.” I reply, returning his smile. “Before I forget, if you’ve been briefed on our culture, you’ll know I’m not normally permitted to speak; however, a change in the rules have been made by both Leadership and myself.” I say, clearing up any confusion if there was any.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I begin.

“Obi-Wan,” I say while nodding in his direction, “Anakin.” I look in his direction.

“I must acquaint myself with the other patrons.” I bow.

“Of course, your highness.” Obi-Wan replies.

“Don’t let us distract you from your royal duties.” Anakin comments with a smile. I smile back and start walking to find the next Jedi or Senator.

- 30 minutes later –

After half an hour of walking and talking, I think I need a break. I pull a chair from one of the many tables in the hall and take a seat. I take a deep breath and exhale.

I’ve already spoken with all of the members of the Jedi Council, 8 Jedi Knights and their padawans and 300 congressmen and women and that’s not even half.

The dancing will begin shortly, so I hope I get to rest my feet for just a few minutes…

Not too long into my relaxing, I hear two chairs being pulled out. I take a deep breath, straighten my posture and put on a smile. I look up to see Kaila and Alani slumped in their chairs. I break out into a real smile and relax my shoulders.

“Hello ladies, you guys look as exhausted as I am and it hasn’t even been an hour.” I joke.

Kaila laughs exhaustedly, “Do you know how many touchy Senators we’ve had to shoo away from the poor female attendees? That Orn Free Taa? Too touchy for my liking…” I laugh.

“The men of the Republic need etiquette.” Alani agrees with closed eyes.

“Perhaps not all of them…” I say quietly. At my addition, both Kaila and Alani open their eyes and straighten up excitedly, forgetting their exhaustion.

“Oh?” Kaila asks with a smirk. I now realize my addition was a mistake; not only are Alani and Kaila my caretakers, but they are also my best friends and unfortunately love gossip.

“Do tell of the well-mannered men you’ve encountered this evening.” Alani urges with her elbows on the table and her hands underneath her chin.

“Well…” I start, going through my evening so far, “Senator Organa and Senator Farr were very polite, unlike the Senators you’ve had to deal with.” I counter with triumph.

“I’ve also met multiple Jedi who were nothing but well-mannered and polite.”

“Like who?” Kaila pushed.

“Like-like Master Mace Windu.” I reply, “Master Yoda and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi…”

“…and Anakin Skywalker.” I finish off quiet, voice uneven. Just saying his name makes my voice waver. I’ve never met a man who’s had this kind of effect on me before…

“Anakin Skywalker…” Alani repeats, “If I remember correctly he came last week with Master Kenobi for his fitting…”

“A rather handsome young man…” Kaila repeats my words from earlier.

Suddenly, I hear the ringing of a single bell signifying the beginning of the first dance. I quickly stand up, “Excuse me!” I say quickly and loudly as I rush to the balcony. I’m not even out of earshot when I hear them giggling.

I take deep breaths to steady my heartrate while I climb the stairs. I reach the top and clear my throat and the audience quiets down.

“The ringing of the first bell indicates the first of two dances. For the first dance, Leori will dance with Leori and this is the same for the people of the Republic. This illustrates our situations before our alliance. For the second dance, it will be mixed. It is mandatory for a Leori to dance with someone of the Republic and vice-versa. This illustrates our situation after our alliance. You have 5 minutes to choose your partner if you wish to dance as the first dance is not mandatory.” I finish and descend the steps for the second time this evening.

I stop at the foot of the stairs and weigh my options. I could a) return to my table and get pestered about Anakin or b) women up and find a partner.

Before I decide what to do, a familiar voice cuts into my thoughts.

“It’s been a while, sis.” A male voice announces. I look to my right and see my older brother, (B/N), with his arms open.

A huge smile replaces my thoughtful look and I rush into his arms, “Brother! What are you doing here?” I ask excitedly and squeeze him.

He wheezes, “I could tell you if I could breathe.” He manages; I immediately release him, “Sometimes you don’t even recognize your own strength, (N/N).” He says using my childhood nickname as he rubs his sides.

“You forget, I married a Senator of the Republic after I refused the throne?” (B/N) reminds me; even though our planet is predominantly female, he is older and would have been next in line.

“Ah, yes. I was so busy with the preparation of the party. It slipped my mind…” I admit, “How have you been? Is the money I sent enough? Do you need more? If you do, I can-“

“(Y/N), calm down. I’m fine and the money you sent is enough; I don’t need anymore, trust me.” He reassures me, “We can catch up later; for now, may I have this dance…” He asks, extending his hand towards me. I raise my eyebrow at him.

“…your highness?” He adds. I smile, glad he hasn’t forgotten the ways of our people.

The horn sounds as the classical music played by the orchestra in the sound room begins to play over the speakers. The first dance has begun.

-

The music has started to play signifying the beginning of the first dance. I’ve decided to sit this one out as the only other person I really know, Padmé, already has a partner. I sit at a table and sip my flute of one of the lighter alcoholic beverages being severed; as a Jedi, I should always be on my toes.

I scan the crowd when my eyes land on the Queen, who appears to be dancing with a man at least half a foot taller then her. The man she’s dancing with is attractive, to say the least. He has elegant features and whatever he’s saying to her makes her laugh; a laugh most likely so scarce only a select group of people ever get to hear it.

What is he saying that’s so funny? I thought when I heard the shattering of my glass. I guess my jealously paired with my prosthesis isn’t necessarily a good mix. Luckily, my beverage only spilled into the plate below with few drops of it on the tablecloth. I disregard my drink and return my attention to the Queen. Her partner spins her and she seems to be having a great time. It’s hard to be jealous when she smiles like that…

My thoughts are cut off when the music stops. The two separate and they bow before the Queen ascends the stairs. She’s most likely announcing the second dance… I suppose that’s my cue; good thing I did my research...

-

“I hope you had a lovely time with your first partner; however, it is now time to choose your second. The second dance will begin shortly. You have 5 minutes to choose your next partner.” I announce and descend the stairs for, hopefully, the last time. I reach the foot of the stairs when a Senator approaches me.

“Would you like to dance, your majesty?” he asks.

“No thank you.” I respond politely. He nods and walks away. Another Senator walks up, one from Ryloth.

“Care to dance, your highness?” He asks with his hand extended in my direction.

“I’ll have to pass, Senator.” I reply. He looks at me and rolls his eyes as he walks away.

“Excuse me, my lady.” A voice intervenes; not a familiar voice, but one I’ve heard before. I turn around to be met with Anakin Skywalker.

“Anakin.” I say, hopefully.

He smiles at me, “May I have this dance…” He extends his hand to me, “…your highness?” I smile and rest my hand in is, “You may.”

The horn sounds again as another song plays over the speakers. Something along the lines of classical and tango; a rather interesting mix to describe the alliance between us.

“If I may, did you really know how to ask me to dance or was it luck?” I ask out of curiousity as he leads me to the dance floor. He grabs my hand with his right and places his left on my waist. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “I knew.” At this, my heartrate picks up once more.

He resume our dance at normal distance.

“Your grace, if I may, who were you dancing with earlier?” Anakin asks as we continue to glide across the floor.

“Oh, that was my brother, (B/N). Many think he’s given up his prince status, but he merely rejected king status and still remains crown prince of Roe’ Leor.” I inform him, thinking nothing of the question.

“I see. So, your majesty, are you aware of the dangers that come with being partnered with the Republic?”

“Yes. Since Roe’ Leor is no longer a neutral system, the Separatists will now target us given our change in position.”

“Have you increased your security?” He asks as he dips me.

“Tripled.” I respond as he lifts me back up.

“Has the Republic asked about outposts?

“Yes.”

“And your answer?”

“Anakin Skywalker, did you ask me to dance for business of for pleasure?” I ask, finally feeling more comfortable in his presence.

“Officially, business.” He responds as he spins me similar to how (B/N) spun me earlier.

“Unofficially?” I ask. He smiles at me and whispers in my ear with a sultriness that makes my heart melt, “Pleasure.” Then, as he dips me, the last note of the song is played.

He brings me back to a standing position.

“It was a pleasure dancing with you, Anakin Skywalker.” I say as I bow, still a little disoriented from his answer.

“Please,” he bows and grabs my hand similar to our first meeting, “the pleasure was mine.” and he kisses it.

“We’ll see more of each other in the future, your highness.” He gives me a jaunty salute then walks over to Obi-Wan.

Never in my life have I ever wanted a man so badly.

Little did I know, even though I made my comment internally, Anakin was still close enough to listen in on my thoughts and walked away with a smile on his face...

-

I leave the Queen to return to her queenly duties and walk over to Obi-Wan.

“You looked rather cozy dancing with the Queen.” He noted.

“Really? I didn’t notice…” I replied coyly.

“Let’s just hope that you haven’t ruined our friendship when it’s only just begun.” He states as he makes his way over to Master Yoda.

I smile and look back at the Queen and she’s talking to her bodyguards.

Farewell, your highness. Until our next meeting…

The Queen’s eyes widen and her attention is turned towards me. I smile at her and she smiles back.

Farewell, Anakin Skywalker. Until we meet again.

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[dclevinson]

August 21: my kaddish month

I’ve sent this to a number of people, but I’m putting it here too in case some readers who might be interested will stumble across it:

A little more than a month has passed since Cindy died, and I get asked a lot how I’m doing. My standard answer starts with a couple ways of framing:

 --- the earthquake is over, but there are lots of unpredictable emotional aftershocks

 --- I’m past the Shock & Numbness phase, but normal life doesn’t seem normal. Lots of How Can This Be Real moments that can be disorienting and distressing

 --- many times emotions collide: how much to lean into or away from grief, how to feel it’s OK to feel OK when I do, how keep her with me and move forward too, etc

 I suppose at some point a fascination with grief can start to make others uncomfortable, but grieving has a logic of its own. One key part of “after” life was the 30 days of daily religious services I attended to honor her memory.  I found the routine and --- surprisingly, the ritual --- spiritually nourishing. Cindy’s eyebrows always shot up at the word “spiritual.” Usually mine too. I hope those of you I send these four pages to don’t find it too tedious Perhaps it’s a way of keeping Cindy in your thoughts and hearts too…

       I am a most unlikely daily mourning ritual observer. I didn’t do it for my father, and he asked us not to. But the ritual mourning prayers and the place where I’d be doing it meant a lot to Cindy, so I just committed without much deliberation. One problem in writing about a fairly traditional type of observance is that the spectrum of Jewish religious practice can be mystifying, even to many Jews. So how explain it to outsiders? I’ve tried to do it without being either too reverent or irreverent.

 One basic mourning commitment is to say “kaddish”, the mourner’s prayer, for a set amount of time. Jewish practice and custom is intellectually intricate and often arcane; there are rules and exceptions to rules and different interpretations of rules, etc. There are other customs/demands for remembrance too. Many think of saying kaddish as a year long commitment. Plus yearly anniversaries, set to a moving Hebrew calendar --- just to add to the degree of difficulty. But even the year thing has permutations: actual practice for some groups is 11 months, not 12.

 Why?. Different interpreters and communities make their own choices on duration. Our ritual director says “eleven.” Basically, some 13th century source says that “the wicked in Gehinom took 12 months for their souls to reach the highest levels of heaven.” But most Jews don’t even believe in a physical heaven!? Never mind. So, the reasoning goes, if the wicked took 12 months, we’ll mourn for 11: because our beloved Was Not Wicked. Welcome to Talmudic reasoning. But, traditionally, the year(ish) is for parents and children. For spouses the allotted time is 30 days. Though many people today may just do a year for anyone in the family. Thirty struck me as the perfect amount for the act to stay meaningful, helpful and not something I would treat as an increasingly resented chore.

 It’s not a prayer that religious custom allows you to say by yourself. You need a minyan (quorum) of 10. It used to be men, but now men or women, at least at our conservative temple (shul, synagogue, whatever --- more insider confusing terminology). But some do say it by themselves for the comfort it brings if finding a group is too arduous. And I cheated a couple days by joining the group virtually. But I found being with a gathering of supporters did matter to me. I could have gone to a shorter evening service to do this, but preferred the morning time. And came to think a 40ish minute observance time a good block to have meaningful daily impact.

 And then there’s the prayer itself. I realized right away that the weekday morning prayer service had many different kaddishs, similar prayers of thanks for and praise to a divine entity. But there’s one specific mourner’s version, said 3 times in oour short 40ish minute service. Twice, almost in succession at the end --- overkill or emphasis, depending on your point of view. Why the repeats? Haven’t pursued that yet. And, as some of you know, the prayer for the dead doesn’t mention dying or losing loved ones or honoring their memory, etc. It just profusely praises God (and lots of different words or phrases to refer to such entity since he/she/it is too holy and all powerful to mention the Real Name). Some phrases: “May god’s name be exalted and hallowed, his sovereignty soon accepted… glorified, celebrated, lauded, worshiped, exalted, honored, extolled and acclaimed… Lots of current Jewish religious practice incorporates the Middle Ages wholesale. Or earlier. Read the English on the facing page of the prayer book and much of the service sounds like the practice of a small, threatened tribe huddling in the desert thousands of years ago.

 There’s a lot about Jewish practice that seems natural and essential to practitioners but might alienate the uninitiated.  Or reluctant observers like me. The head coverings. The shoulder covering prayer shawls. The standing for this (many do: why not all??!), turning right for that, covering eyes for this line, fingering prayer shawl strings (tzitzit) for that. Whew. So many prayers and practices for so many different occasions. Designed, I’ve thought, to cement the devotion of believers. But it repel skeptics, too, I surmise.

 One such example: in these early services most men put on tefillin. Leather straps with little black boxes attached (a prayer inside) that have very specific wrapping/unwrapping  procedures for arms and head. It’s deeply moving to believers, but I’ve always thought it look repellent or ridiculous. Way too much like the garb of the ultra orthodox “crazies.” There are lots of I’ll do this/not that decisions in religious practice. I understand there’s a tenuous dynamic that exists between any minority and majority community, and clinging to tradition and being true to oneself can seem preferable to “selling out” to fit in. But sometimes it strikes us skeptics as more a clinging to “guns and religion” type intransigence.

 So, if you walked in on these services cold (I was lukewarm), there’s lots that would be pretty mystifying and potentially off-putting. How could you possibly fit in? In fact, I believe I was the only new guy or gal over my month. And there had to be a decent number of temple members who have lost family members during the time I attended. Seemingly no person younger than I was doing the morning kaddish thing. And usually I was the only or 1 of 2 who didn’t put on tefillin. Men. Women usually don’t. Though one of our female rabbis did. Good for her, though I wasn’t tempted to follow.

 I could fit in and feel comfortable at these services because a) I knew people there b) I was committed to being there and c) people took care of me. I no longer bristled at the imputation (real or just in my head?) that I’m a Bad Jew and I need instruction to be a Good One. This time I felt many there had cherished Cindy, understood why I was there, and quietly welcomed me. I was willing to look/be ignorant and accept guidance.

 It was reassuring to see many of Cindy’s compatriots from the temple sisterhood there day after day too. The whole group (20 to 40 most days) was interesting to observe: lots more joking and side conversations during the service than I’d imagined. And there was the guy older than I who usually wore cycling shorts and shirt, the much older guy who sat to my right who usually shuffled in 15 minutes late, etc etc.  Lots of accomplished people and interesting stories for another writer’s version. And --- most days --- someone called out the pages so I had some sense where we were.

 I can read Hebrew if I already know the prayer or chant. So I can’t really read Hebrew anymore. Much of the service is praising God’s amazing powers, thanking him for singling out and helping Jews (don’t let anti-Semites see this!), an intricate mix of different intricate sections that over days start to fit a pattern. There are a always some bits in any prayer book that I find edifying and worth recalling; often I’m reading in one place when the service is in another. My favorite in this one:

Rabbi Schuel ben Nahmani said: We find that the Holy One created  everything  in the world; only falsehood and exaggeration were not God’s doing. People devised those on their own.

 There’s no sermon on any days, just the chanting. And different melodies for different sections. And torah reading ritual (I could spend pages on this alone) Monday and Thursday. I still have to learn why those days. I preferred the shorter days without.

 I was most fortunate to have a long time neighbor and, like Cindy, long time temple leader who I was delighted to learn (only some 30 some years later) is a regular attendee of daily morning services. Like Cindy, he has the ability I don’t to take what’s worthwhile in religious practice and ignore the rest. He credits Cindy with his reading the new alternate section of one prayer praising the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob) by adding Matriarchs too.

 It’s not supposed to be used at this particular service, but a couple women who led services on a rotating schedule snuck it in. Much to my friend Rick’s and my glee. He joked about wanting to write: Minyan, the Musical. Have to decide how reverent or irreverent to be I replied. Yes he said, and some would love it, some hate it. Like so much else in life, I thought.

 There’s way more I could describe: the various “honors” during torah reading for one. Early on I got congratulated for pulling the strings to open the torah ark/cabinet. Basically, the only task our ritual director could be sure at that point I wouldn’t flub. One more key detail: I was wearing Cindy remarkable hand knit prayer shawl. Which, of course, many of her friends recognized. Once I made the mistake when taking it off at the service end of holding it to my face: way too emotional to repeat daily. Much more detail I could include, but there’s likely already too much. Ask me if you want more.

 I was asked to say a few words on the last day, right before the concluding prayers. I told people I was a most unlikely minyan attendee, etc. Grateful for this and that person’s help and Rebbe Rick’s (joke) guidance and company. Uplifted seeing Cindy’s sisterhood comrades, etc. Hoped in coming months to find an enduring way to honor her memory, etc.

 My one specific observation: I had been hearing people recite kaddish at Saturday services off and on for over 60 years.  But I’d never given a thought to the brief parts where the congregation joins in on a quick line. Just part of the practice I’d heard without really hearing. Until I was the mourner. Then, on many days when the congregation joined in…

       Y’he sh’meh rabbvo m’orach l’olam ulolmey olmayo…

 …on many days I felt my heart lifting and a wave of emotional support wash over me. This is why you should say kaddish in a minyan if at all possible. Or I hope in your tradition or life there’s some equivalent thing to bring you comfort when/if you need it. Em and I have been lighting candles at a set time each week also. That works for us too.

 The morning group skews old. But I hope that such a group is always there for anyone who needs it. I don’t want to attend any religious services daily. Or weekly. But this is my favorite service. I’ll be back. But on a day they don’t read torah. Forty minutes is plenty.

 I decided, too, that on day 30, I would take off my wedding ring. I sensed that if I didn’t tie that act to a ritual I might have a hard time doing it.

[drummergirl231-2]

Happy Autism Awareness/Acceptance Day 2020!

To me, true awareness and acceptance go hand-in-hand. I still don’t mind the word “awareness,” since most people, even people who think they’re spreading Autism awareness, aren’t totally aware of what it is or what it’s like. But I also love calling it Autism Acceptance Day, because that’s what we need more than anything. 

To spread some awareness, I’d like to address some misconceptions about Autism and share some other thoughts I wish people knew/understood.

1. Autists/Aspies do not lack empathy. 

I found this thing and it explains it super well so I’ll just leave it here:

Imagine a scenario where you say something totally innocent and it triggers the person you’re talking to. They start flying off the handle at you and you don’t know why. But because they’re angry, you are, too. But since you don’t know why they’re angry, you don’t know why you’re angry, either. It’s crazy overwhelming and confusing. And you want to fix whatever you did because you don’t want this other person to be angry or hurt, but you don’t know how, because their all-consuming rage makes it really hard to think and try to put yourself in their shoes. Also, you’re scared on top of it all.

That’s what having high affective and compassionate empathy and low cognitive empathy is like. It’s not that we don’t care. It’s that we care too much, and all the super specific nuances of socializing are things we have to learn one at a time, through either our mistakes or others’ mistakes. These things don’t come naturally to us, but it’s not like we can’t learn. If I were to compare math to socializing, it’s like you all have calculators or other doohickeys to do all the math for you and we just have paper and a pencil... and no eraser. 

2. Autism is not a mental illness to be “cured.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I am ALL FOR people finding ways to help us be able to deal with the world better, whether that’s a better diet, items to block out sensory stimuli or items that stimulate, or counselling that can help us navigate social situations and talk through anxiety and/or depression. But those things don’t “cure,” us because Autism isn’t a disease or something wrong with us. Autism gives us different challenges, sure, but neutotypicals have their own challenges. 

The symptoms typically associated with “low-functioning,” Autism don’t necessarily have to be a part of Autism. Many non-verbal kids grow up to be verbal. That doesn’t mean they stopped being autistic. There was a celebrity mom years ago who claimed to “cure” her son’s Autism with a gluten-free dairy-free diet. He’d been so trapped in his head, he couldn’t engage with the world around him. She altered his diet and one day he laughed at Spongebob, and that was a turning point. He became able to interact with people and react to things on TV. It was a huge breakthrough. But he was still autistic. If you were to have plopped me down on a rug as a toddler next to a toddler like this celebrity’s son before his altered diet, you wouldn’t think I was autistic at all by comparison. But I was, and I am.

Autism is a different neurological blueprint, and yes, brain-healthy diets and detoxes can do wonders for us because it seems like our brain type does make us more susceptible to negative effects from neurotoxins. But if you think someone has lost their Autism just because “the bad parts,” went away... no. That’s not how it works.

3. Not everyone is “a little autistic.” 

When I was newly diagnosed and trying to process it, someone told me something along the lines of, there there, we’re all a little autistic. But that’s not true. There are a lot of traits associated with this brain type, and yes, a neurotypical person can have a few of them. That doesn’t make them a little autistic. To be considered autistic at all, you’d have to have a large number of quirks plus social delays (not associated with excessive technology use), odd or repetitive behaviors, unusual and intense interests, communication struggles, and unusual sensory processing. Suppose you’re white. If you are white, this should be easy to imagine. Say an African American just told you about some of the challenges they’ve faced, whether it’s race-based bullying in school or racial profiling later on. Would it be appropriate to say, “There there, we’re all a little black?” NO. One, it’s false. Two, while all people struggle with stuff because to be human is to struggle sometimes, the struggles of different groups of people are totally different, and you can’t say you know exactly what it’s like or pretend everyone’s the same. We all have equal dignity and worth, but beyond that, everyone’s different. Don’t pretend differences don’t exist. Just value them.

4. Autism doesn’t have a “look.”

When I tell people I’m autistic, this is usually what I hear: “Wow! I wouldn’t have guessed! You don’t look autistic.”  ...What does that even mean??? Is it supposed to be a compliment? Because if it’s a compliment I “don’t look autistic,” then that’s kind of an insult to other autistic people. Or do they mean it like, “I don’t believe you’re really autistic because I have a preconceived idea of what an autistic person looks like and you don’t fit the bill so I’m not going to give you grace if you act weird?” I don’t know. Y’all say weird things too, sometimes, ya know? But Autism doesn’t have a look. There is a sort of distant intensity in our gaze sometimes... and I can legit see it when Jim Parsons plays Sheldon Cooper, but when I see an interview with him as himself, it’s gone. It’s not a fixed feature of our faces, and a talented NT could totally put it on.

5. Autism presents itself differently in boys and girls.

You know how not a lot of people know the symptoms of heart attacks in women because mainly people only talk about what a heart attack is like for men? It’s kinda like that with Autism, too. Typically when you hear about Autism, you’re hearing about the signs and symptoms in boys. Even most pediatricians only know to look for the way it presents in boys, which is how so many girls don’t get a diagnosis until later in life, if ever.  One difference is that, for whatever reason, girls tend to be better at nonverbal communication and taking hints. We’re mimics. Chameleons. We take on the mannerisms of those around us and who we see on TV as we force ourselves to adapt. Verbal boys might speak at unusual volumes or with an unusual voice, rhythm, or cadence, but verbal girls learn to mimic the speech patterns of others. Our special interests/obsessions aren’t typically seen as strange given our age and sex. For example, a six-year-old autistic boy might be fascinated by WWII. I was interested in fetal development. People thought, “What’s so weird about that? She’s a little girl who loves babies.” We often play with Barbies or other dolls long after our peers have stopped. It helps autistic girls process social situations. When I was shamed out of liking Barbies, I started writing stories in notebooks or in my head. Autistic boys usually struggle with social communication from an early age, but autistic girls usually don’t have any major communication struggles until adolescence, when relationships, platonic or romantic, get way more complicated.  Since little autistic girls can mimic their neurotypical peers, and since some doctors only know how to look for Autism in boys, we tend to fly under the radar, causing that huge gender gap in diagnoses.

6. Mental illness is common with Autism, but NOT part of it.

I read an article by an autist in the UK who struggles to get help for his anxiety or depression because therapists have brushed him off, saying “Well, that’s just part of being Autistic, so it can’t be helped.” NO! Just like neurotypicals can be mentally healthy or unhealthy, Autistic people can be mentally healthy or unhealthy. Just because something is common for us doesn’t mean it’s how it’s supposed to be, or that it’ll always be that way, or that it’s part of who we are and we need to embrace it. People with mental illnesses should be embraced (literally or figuratively, depending on what they’re comfortable with). Mental illnesses should not be embraced. Ever. Because autistic kids and adults often face abuse, bullying, discrimination, and are ostracized, anxiety (especially social anxiety) and depression are common for us. In more serious cases, especially in autistic teens and young adults, dissociative disorders can develop. What’s worse, it doesn’t take much looking to find the dark corners of the internet where people, autistic or not, are encouraged to embrace their developing dissociative thoughts and feelings. I once saw an interview with someone who found healing from a dissociative disorder, and she gets emails every day from others with the same disorder she had who regret some of the things they were talked into doing while living with the condition and  who want to find the healing she did. She said many of them are autistic and under the age of twenty-five. Autistic people with mental illnesses shouldn’t be talked into believing their mental illnesses are a part of them, or not mental illnesses at all, or something to celebrate and cling to. I reject the notion we should have to settle for being ill in any way. We deserve to be as healthy and whole as anyone else, and it makes me sick there are so many internet predators preying on us in this way, and that there are therapists who think Autism and mental illness has to be a packaged deal.

7. If LGBT people were treated the way autistic people are by the media, it’d lead to outrage. But it seems like no one is outraged on our behalf.

We’ve seen the news stories, haven’t we? A couple invites the news over to their house, upsetting their autistic child who then has a meltdown, the meltdown is filmed and aired, and the parents are just like, “This is what our life is like because of Autism. And it sucks. Pity us.”

There was one video I saw... I’m just so enraged by it, even after two years. A mother was praised for her open honesty as she vilified her autistic son and complained about how he ruined her life and how hard it is to go out and have people stare. I’m sorry, hard for WHO??? I don’t even want to go into the details. I know only sharing this much doesn’t make it sound like that bad of a video, it’s just... ugh. Guys. It’d be a whole separate post. I can’t deal with it right now. 

If parents went on the news after their kid came out to them as gay, and wept and begged for pity and said some of the things this woman said of her autistic son (wondering what she did wrong that made her deserve this or that led to this or saying she doesn’t believe in God but finds herself praying anyway that God’ll “fix him”), America would call them the worst parents ever. But parents of autistic kids who do this are praised for their openness and vulnerability as they publicly shame their child.

Another time, after a mass shooting carried out by a teenage boy, the news reported that he was autistic and that might have contributed to the attack (there they go, combining mental illness with Autism as one and the same again).

If a pedophile were arrested, and they said on the news, “And we just got word that he’s gay, so that may be why,” there’d be a riot. But the news can pin autists as mass murderers and no one bats an eye!

All of May last year working at a clothing store, I watched as various departments filled up with pride t-shirts to get ready for June, and I couldn’t help but think,

Where were the Autism acceptance t-shirts in March to get ready for April?

I probably shouldn’t be so surprised with the media painting us as life-ruiners and life-enders. 

I know it’s a vile and disgusting thing for me to be jealous of LGBT people in this way, especially since they have their own struggles, too. I just wish society had our backs and celebrated us instead of wanting us “fixed,” for their own convenience, ya know?

8. Almost all of us hate Autism Speaks, and those who don’t are probably just new. XD

I used to be all “Light it up blue!” as well (even though that seemed weird to me, given blue lights might be overwhelming to some people on the spectrum). But then I read something on their site that made me feel really betrayed, and down the line, I learned most autistic people hate them... some because they saw them say the opposite of what I saw they said. Basically we all have different opinions but Autism Speaks spouts whatever information their donors want them to (sellouts), and that donated money doesn’t go towards helping us, but toward more fundraising or research on how to prevent people with our brain type. I guess they’re not fond of the artistic and scientific advancements we bring to the table. They should change those puzzle pieces from blue or multi-colored to white with black specks because they want a world that’s vanilla. 

9. Some of us still like the puzzle pieces, even if we hate Autism Speaks.

I’ve talked about this in a fanfic, but I’d love it if we could redeem the puzzle pieces, because they’re still a good analogy if you assign a different meaning. Autists and NTs are puzzling to each other, no sense denying that, but the more time we spend together, the more we start to understand each other. Also, Autism does have a lot of pieces, and figuring out I was autistic was like solving the puzzle of my life. The missing pieces came together and things became clearer and made more sense. Also also, some autistic people are really good at puzzles. And then there are autists like me who aren’t necessarily good at puzzles, but get totally absorbed in working on them anyway (my parents have been doing some puzzles during the quarantine lol they’re traps! TRAPS I SAY!!!).

Nevertheless, I understand why other autistis don’t like the puzzle pieces and prefer the rainbow infinity symbol, and I quite like it, too. It’s very pretty, and the way the colors fade together is a nice symbol of how it’s a spectrum.

It’s a sign of the infinite possibilities in our lives when we’re empowered, because we can do and have done good and great things in the world.

#autism acceptance day #autism awareness day #autism #asperger's syndrome #self-advocacy #I'm like hecka impressed if you read all this

[justimajin]

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 15

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 4.2k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away… …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13; I’m just throwing barrels of fluff into this one

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, June 23 

Tightening your grip, the giant and hefty block of metal is hoisted above your head. Your arms strain and you clench your teeth in agony, but thankfully twenty seconds fly by and you can allow your grip to loosen. 

With an exasperated sigh, you shakily place it back down on the rack and wipe away the lingering sweat from your temples. 

A low whistle sounds from nearby, Hoseok staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’ve gotten really good at lifting Y/N!” You manage to sit up and smile at him, “I think Jungkook might be seeing some tough competition soon.”

Jungkook pauses mid-way from lifting his own weights and raises a brow at Hoseok, only for him to mischievously grin. “What? You’ve got another competitor now.”

Shaking his head, Jungkook resumes his workout as Hoseok helps you up from the bench press, plopping himself down and adjusting your weights. He had decided to assist you since Jungkook was a bit preoccupied with his own routine, alongside with Jimin and Taehyung having long gone out on a run together.

That’s when a head of bleach blonde hair flocks in, roughly setting down his bag and plopping down in a hurry. He flicks his phone out, scrambling through it with attentive eyes.

The unease on his features draws concern out from you. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, his eyes becoming wide once he realizes you were referring to him.

“Uh yeah,” Jackson replies, his usual cheerful demeanour not sparking out. “Actually– Y/N, do you know what girls like?”

Your eyes widen, “Or do you have a girlfriend or a sister? Someone that does?”

A nervous laugh leaves you at that and you place your hand on your racing heartbeat. Meanwhile, Hoseok strolls over in curiosity. “W-Why do you ask?”

Jackson somberly smiles, “I wanted to get something nice for my girlfriend but I’m not sure what….” His eyes perk up at Hoseok, “What about you?”

Hoseok shrugs, hands in his short pockets, “I have a sister but she’s older than me. Probably not the age range you’re looking for.”

Jackson sighs, staring at his phone hopelessly. You catch a glimpse of his calendar brightly lit on the screen, his voice answering your confusion.

“Man….why is Valentine’s Day already here?” He slumps down onto the bench, your eyes frantically widening.

V-Valentine’s Day?

As in, the holiday where people celebrate love?

Your heart starts racing again.

“U-Um, so, you’re buying your girlfriend something?” You hastily question and Jackson glances at you in confusion.

“Of course, all couples get each other things on Valentine’s Day.” He shrugs, however, it only serves to make your eye twitch now. “I just wanted to get my girlfriend something nice, you know? To show how much I appreciate her.”

“Dude, that’s beautiful.” Jungkook says from behind, eavesdropping on your conversation as he lifts weights.

“How long have you guys been together for?” Hoseok questions.

“Roughly a year?” Jackson sadly smiles, “But ever since I came to school, we haven’t been able to see much of each other.”

You hurriedly interject again. “I-Is there a limit on how long you’ve been together?” 

Jackson furrows his brows, “I don’t think so? There’s no rules or regulations, you just get the person you love something or spend time with them.” He sighs, “I can’t do the second one, so I’m going for the first option.”

Hoseok hums, like he was trying to understand as well. That’s when an idea sparks in your mind.

“I can help you then!” You timidly suggest, “Y-You know, with what girls like and all that.”

“Really?” You nod and Jackson’s smile widens, “Thanks Y/N, I seriously appreciate it!”

You smile but there’s something else brewing in your mind, something you’ll have to get started on as soon as you can before Valentine’s Day can strike.

***

You patiently wait outside of the store.

After you had agreed to help out Jackson, the two of you had decided to exchange numbers in order to meet up. Once you had started texting for a while, you gave him a call one day and spilled the beans.

You tell him everything – how this tradition of Valentine’s Day was completely foreign to you, how you were in a relationship with Yoongi and wanted to get something for him but were absolutely clueless on what exactly, how you thought in a way you could help each other, since you would help him find something and then you could also have someone around who was in the same scenario as you.

Jackson agrees, even vouching that he’ll keep everything a secret. However he grows just as excited and nervous as you, glad to not be alone in this either.

“Y/N!” You whirl around to see Jackson jogging over, “I didn’t take too long, did I?”

You shake your head and smile, “Great! I saw this store the other day and I thought we could find something nice here.”

Catching a glimpse of the place, you can see why he chose it.

It seems more catered towards Valentine’s Day than anything. The exterior glass is covered with giant hearts, the smell of chocolate wafting through and a giant banner declaring that all Valentine’s gifts were half off.

You warily stare at it but Jackson doesn’t mind, dragging you over with him in an enthusiastic manner. He ends up getting drawn to one of the first shelves, letting you wander around the many aisles in curiosity.

There’s an abundance of things – obnoxious cards scribbled with hearts, large bouquets and flowers on display, even boxes of chocolate that appear to be recycled.

You keep wandering around and pacing the store when nothing catches your eye and strikes you as something that you would want to give to Yoongi. In fact, you think Yoongi would actually hate more of the Valentine’s catered things here.

With a sigh, you head back to Jackson who is eagerly eyeing a chocolate box that has a bright red bow on top.

“I don’t think I want something from here…” You avertedly whisper. He immediately pivots, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just….” You glance around, staring at the bright red balloons floating at the ceiling, “It just seems too much.”

Jackson hums, “I think something practical would be better.”

“Like what though?” He questions. You ponder for an answer, still avertedly glancing around the store when your eyes land on the glass outside of the store. As if a light bulb went off in your mind, you whirl around and grab onto Jackson.

“Come on!”

He hurriedly nods, discarding the chocolate he was going to initially buy and rushing with you. Once you enter the opposing store from the Valentine’s themed one, your eyes instantly light up.

However, Jackson frowns. “Y/N, why are we in a clothing store?”

You’re already eyeing the various articles of fabrics, latching onto a fluffy sweater.

“I think…this is something he’ll like.” You whisper, mind racing.

In the time you’ve known Yoongi, somehow you’ve noticed that he always seems cold. From the way he constantly keeps his arms crossed during practices when he wears your team’s thin jersey , to moments when he keeps a jacket on hand when it gets rather chilly. It’s such a small observation but you’re certain that this is something he would truly appreciate.

However, your moment of sudden realization is cut off when your eyes land on the price, backing away immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asks, eyes landing on the giant tag as he hisses, “Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend getting that one.”

You filter through the various tags around you, all of them spelling out a similar message. You let out a sigh, wondering how you were going to possibly get Yoongi a sweater when you can’t even afford one.

“What am I going to do Jackson?” You whisper, a defeated silence lingering in the air. Jackson frowns, quickly peering around the range of clothing for another moment. The prices don’t appear to be changing any time soon, but then he stumbles upon one very specific sweater. 

He abruptly spins around, grabbing your attention. “Hey, Y/N?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What if you just made a sweater instead of buying one?” He lifts the particular piece of fabric that’s been covered in carefully woven strings and knots, “You could like knit it or something.”

Your eyes widen in bewilderment, never really considering that to be an option. Truthfully you aren’t a huge craftsman at all, but you suppose in a way making it would be more sentimental and it wouldn’t have your wallet emptying out in despair either.

You pursue your lips. 

Perhaps...you’ve got a solid idea on your hands. 

***

Soon after, you and Jackson head over to a different store to pick up various threads. None of the colours seem to catch your eye until you focus on the black and orange assortments, the idea of making the sweater like your team’s jersey being a welcoming one because Yoongi would then be able to wear it to practice.

You discover that Jackson had ended up purchasing some of his own threads as well, declaring that he doesn’t think giving his girlfriend a mere box of chocolates would be enough and he wants to take up the challenge. You’re ecstatic at the prospect of someone else also working at this with you, not being alone in a somewhat lengthy project.

By the time you head back to your dorm, Taehyung and Jungkook can’t help but be curious.

“What’s that?” Jungkook wonders, pointing to the large bag you had hauled up and planted onto the ground.

“Oh, just some threads I picked up with Jackson.” You softly smile, “I’m going to make a sweater.”

“Who is this sweater for?” Taehyung questions, raising a suspicious brow. You opt out for not telling them just yet, in the hopes they don’t accidentally tell Yoongi when you’re not around.

“Just for someone…” You meekly snatch up the bag, deciding to bring it to your room instead of in front of the prying eyes.

Taehyung pursues his lips, like he wasn’t able to believe you on that. He watches you disappear into your room, tugging the bag alongside with you.

Spreading out the materials onto your bed, you unpackage and begin to unravel the long bundles of thread. You then take out the sharp needles, staring at them and then at the yarn with a blank look.

Although this had initially been a good idea, you can’t help but wonder what knitting would be like for someone like you. You have zero experience with the craft and you don’t know what you ended up making is going to look like, but with a sigh, you suppose that simply the desire to make something for Yoongi should be enough at the end of the day.

***

Knitting is horrendous.

It takes a certain kind of rhythm to get through it, a precise way of weaving the strings to build a cohesive chain. That chain then grows to become a giant sheet, building up to develop into the huggable and cozy appearance you were going for.

Or at least, you had hoped for.

There’s a crease in between your brows when you clasp the needles tighter, attempting to loop them according to the tutorial you had been up all night watching. The man in it was able to easily tie the strings together, letting them effortlessly go through various hoops until he was completely finished. You on the other hand, barely have finished the first row of many, roughly pulling the needles back and forth to create some sort of structure.

When another disastrous knot forms amongst the somewhat okayish row, you let go of the needles in exasperation. You suppose there was no guarantee that you would have been good with this, not accustomed to working with something that required so much care and detail opposed to brute force and strategy.

“Hey Y/N!” You glance up to see Jackson strolling over, a bright smile on his lips, “Are you making it?”

He points to the multiple strings wrapped around your arms, needles poking out of the mess you managed to create. With a somber nod, you sadly smile.

“What about you?” You question, hoping you can get some solace that knitting for the first time was a universal issue and that you weren’t the only one facing its wrath.

Jackson plants his bag on the ground next to you, rummaging through it before he pulls out a clean sheet of perfectly woven strings.

“I think it’s coming out quite nicely!” He grins, “I might just turn mine into a sweater instead of a scarf at this rate.”

“That would be a good idea.” You whisper, still eyeing the way your teammate was able to catch onto the craft much better than you did. In a way, you are happy, however you wanted this to be perfect for Yoongi and so far the future doesn’t look so bright for you in that matter.

Speaking of which, Yoongi steps into the gym. You and Jackson hurriedly scramble as you slide your bob of mixed yarn and his perfected one away in your bags before anyone can see. Hastily straightening up, you jog over to where the members have started to line up and patiently wait.

“Hey Y/N.” Taehyung nudges you with his elbow, “Is the captain alright?”

“Hm?” You stare at Yoongi in confusion when he paces over to Namjoon, his dreary eyes appearing a lot more serious than usual. You recall talking to him about it a while back and he had simply shrugged it off by saying he had a lot on his plate with school and being captain. Although he managed to convince you that everything was okay, the stress lining his delicate features is too easy to read in the single moment.

“I honestly don’t know…” You whisper to Taehyung, but before he can ask you more, Yoongi marches over.

“We’re practicing in teams of four today, separate yourselves.” He simply mutters, eyes coming into your contact with yours for a second. He smiles, but it’s then when you realize how stressed he actually is when it barely meets his eyes. 

When you move to get into teams, Jackson reminds you of the very thing that could help the situation.

“Since the captain is stressed, he’ll probably be really happy when you give him the sweater.”

Although you agree with the sentiment, his words only serve to spike up determination in you.

***

You collapse onto your bed, a sigh leaving your lips.

“I mean, it doesn’t look so bad….” Hyerin encourages over the phone, the overshadowing in her voice being too obvious, “Really Y/N, it kind of looks like a hat– OH! Maybe you could give him a hat!”   

You groan, planting your hand on your face as Hyerin desperately tries to make you feel better. “Yeah, a hat! He could totally rock it, right?”

“Maybe I should just give up on the idea and buy one…”

“Why don’t you just ask that guy for help? Uh what was his name, Jackson?” Her voice blares through the phone and you roll over to plant it against your face.

“He’s already making one of his own Hyerin.”

A tick leaves her, but she still persists, “You can do this, Y/N! It’s really great that you’re putting in so much effort to make something for this Yoongi guy and I think he’d be grateful at the end of the day.”

You stare down at the heaped mess you’ve created, strings poking out in absurd ways.

“Are you sure?” You pluck one the strings, watching it unravel from the loose knot you weren’t able to make.

“Positive!” Her voice turns firm, “Now make sure you finish that sweater and knock his socks off with it!!”

You giggle from that, thanking her and then turning off the phone. Letting your eyes wander back to your failed sweater, you pick up the needles again and give it another shot.

***

Namjoon arrives at practice earlier than expected.

Yoongi had informed him that he would be caught up in some delays because of a late exam the day before, so Namjoon decided it would be best if he came early for the team.

He heads for the gym doors, entering the large court area and jogs towards his office. Grabbing his whistle, he naturally assumes no one is in the gym – until he catches sight of two people.

You and Jackson are huddled together in the corner, seemingly whispering to each other amongst the empty and quiet gym. Namjoon raises a brow, unsure of what was exactly going on as he treads over to you, hovering above your crouched figures.

That’s when he sees it and it leaves him feeling even more puzzled. Strings of yarn are sprayed across the ground, both you and Jackson holding what he assumes to be knitting needles. The pile next to Jackson is an appealing array of white and sky blue, woven together to resemble a cozy scarf.

The pile next to you, however, is a disarray of blank and orange, and what’s worse is that your technique doesn’t seem to be helping much.

“Oh my god, Namjoon!” Jackson suddenly shrieks. Namjoon winces at the high pitch, watching you two instantly scatter away all your belongings and pushing it behind you. “W-We were just uh, you know talking and stuff!”

Namjoon sighs, “Why are you knitting before practice?”

“Oh uh, the thing is–“ Jackson scrambles for an answer.

“I’m knitting a sweater for Yoongi.” You smile, being honest with Namjoon as Jackson gapes at you for letting the secret out so easily. “We were just working on completing so we won’t be distracted when practice starts.” 

Namjoon appreciates that you’ve told him the truth instead of covering it up like Jackson was attempting to, so he decides you could use the piece of advice he offers.

“Do you need help? I’m not great at knitting but I do know the basics since my mom’s really good at it.”

A cord strikes in you at that, mouth falling agape when the source of help you needed all along was actually in front of you. You hurriedly nod, shifting over abruptly as Namjoon chuckles.

When he takes the bundle from his hands, Namjoon frowns, “Why are there so many lumps in it?”

“Lumps?” You crane your neck to see the various bumpy ridges, “Oh, that’s how the tutorial said to do it.”

“I think the tutorial was right but you did it on the opposite sides.” Namjoon plops the ground, weaving the needles on a different side, “It should be like this.”

You attentively watch as Namjoon fixes your errors, the odd lumps in your design beginning to disappear as he continues. Jackson seems to be intrigued as well, dropping his own bundle to observe Namjoon with pure marvel.

“There you go.” Namjoon smiles, having taken a couple of minutes to fix your messed-up rows and passing it back to you. Thanks to him, your design appears much better and smoother, no longer a disarray of chaos.

When he gets up, you sincerely smile.

“Thanks Namjoon.”

He smiles back at you, heading back to his office to grab some paperwork. He swoops out of the gym for a brief moment, both you and Jackson still huddled in the corner as you attempt to recreate the way Namjoon had shown you. That’s when Namjoon runs into him, eyes sparking up in surprise.

“Ah, you’re on time.” Yoongi nods, hand on the bag slung across his shoulders.

“I managed to get some sleep.” He yawns, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His eyes dart over to Namjoon’s hands, “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s the approval for the next game.” He hands it to Yoongi, who hums before briefly scanning over it.

Namjoon smiles when he gives it back, “If you need any help, just let me know.”

“I wouldn’t worry so much about that, just focus on school for now.” Yoongi nods and Namjoon smiles, patting him on the back before he leaves. “Good things are coming your way so try not to stay too stressed.”

Yoongi frowns and stares at him strangely at that, but he simply shrugs it off as another yawn escapes him. 

***

Namjoon’s help ended up doing pure wonders for you. Because of him, your rows don’t longer are tangled or stringy but aligned and smooth. His help also sparked bundles of motivation in you, the desire to keep going without completing the sweater not being far from your hands.

You end up finishing just on time, presenting the finished product to Jackson with a huge smile gracing your lips.

“It looks great Y/N!” He exclaims, marvelling at the fine embroidery of black and orange, “I can’t believe you managed to make our logo on it!”

He flips the sweater around to show the words Bangtan and the number nine that Yoongi wears on his jersey. You smile at that, though you have to admit pestering Namjoon with a multitude of questions ended up being immensely helpful.

“What about you? Where’s yours?” Jackson places your sweater down and pulls out the bright white and blue sweater, an intricate striped pattern on it.

“What do you think?”

You gape in amazement, fingers faintly touching the material, “It’s beautiful….” You whisper, giving him a soft smile, “Your girlfriend will love it.”

Jackson grins and you take your sweater back. The sound of feet shuffling nearby have you two scrambling again, hurriedly glancing in the direction of the door where Yoongi stands.

He frowns, bag still on his shoulder, “What are you guys doing here?”

Jackson’s eyes light up with the situation, a cheesy smile on his lips when he grabs his belongings and hastily gets up. Yoongi raises a brow when Jackson sends you a thumbs up before leaving, dismay growing in you at how obvious he was being.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi turns back to you, more confusion appearing in his features.

You slowly get up from the ground, bringing the folded sweater in your hands. Shuffling over to him, Yoongi’s eyes perk up at the sight of it.

With a bashful smile, you extend your arms.

Yoongi frowns, letting his bag drop to the ground before he takes the woolly sweater from your hands. It unfolds, revealing the huge logo that matches with the one on his jersey.

When he glances at you perplexed, you clear your throat and smile, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Yoongi takes a glance at the sweater again, the shock across his features not leaving the longer you stare at him. You wonder just how speechless you’ve rendered him, but then he takes the sweater and walks away from you.

Pain flashes in your eyes when he hasn’t said anything, fear dwelling in you at the prospect that he doesn’t like it. But then he emerges from the office with something in his hands.

“I had a talk with Yoonji….” He begins, a small box in his hands, “When everyone’s families were invited to our game.”

You nod, recalling the day being horrible for you until Yoonji had cheered you on. “So I got you this. I wasn’t sure when to give to you but since it’s Valentine’s….”

He hands you the box and you stare at it in curiosity. It feels extremely light and you pick at the tape on the side, letting it peel away to allow the corners to unfold.

Your hand comes into contact with something metallic, pulling it out completely from the bag to reveal the large brown frame.

When you had first earned your position on the team after try-outs, Namjoon had wanted to take a group picture of the team to cement it. He had requested that you all appear serious, but after the first shot, that was thrown out the window once Taehyung had managed to fall over and everything had started laughing. Namjoon had ended up keeping the remaining shots for memory sake, but the one where all of you are laughing the hardest, is the very one in the frame Yoongi has given you.

It spells out one solid message for you, something you didn’t even know you needed.

You will always have your team by your side.

Your eyes grow glossy when you glance up at Yoongi, who’s smiling tenderly at your reaction. He brings the sweater in his hands over his head, looping in his arms in it before it entirely covers him. Snatching up his bag from the ground, he trudges away to toss it aside and to bring the cart of basketballs out.

Taking one final glance at the frame with a smile, you carefully place it back into the box and into your bag. Eventually getting back into the flow for practice, everyone begins to arrive and take notice of Yoongi’s unique sweater, Jackson throwing you a cheeky smile at its appearance.

“They’re so cute.” Jackson dreamily sighs, later on watching you two interact from the window of the Namjoon’s office once practice wraps up.

Namjoon hums, clearly annoyed by Jackson's sudden emergence in his office as he works, but managing to let out a soft smile from the thought.

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