#(first 2 times were in direct messages to mutuals)

[tasteofyourblood]

listen to origin of symmetry by muse 🔫 this is a threat

[izjeon]

GONEGIRL.

athlete!jungkook x f!reader

𖥻 genre: s2l (strangers to lovers?), fwb (friends with benefits), pwp, and university au.

𖥻 rating: 18+

𖥻 word count: 3.2k

𖥻 warnings: [MINORS DNI] afab/f!reader, heavy infatuation, they basically stalk each other, a lot of sexual tension, smut is literally the plot, many mentions of wet dreams, debatable infidelity, reader has debatable morals, jungkook & reader are horny, switch!jk (but he does most of the dominating) and switch!reader, a lot of making-out, hickeys (f.receiving), reader lowkey has a praise kink, hair pulling (m.receiving), jungkook whimpers, extra beefy jungkook, dry humping… and they get caught.

a/n: this is not proofread, but why is standing next to you such a bop?? helped me finish this after months of it being stuck in the drafts. also, to whoever told me to stay in the basement, i couldn’t stick to my word, pookie 😔. enjoy!

series masterlist: GONEGIRL

chapter one - ‘slowburn?’

𖥻 GONEGIRL

you knew who he was.

jeon jungkook: the senior that all the freshmen drooled for and the senior that all the seniors wanted to themselves. as a senior yourself, you couldn’t say he didn’t intrigue you. he was a sporty guy, winning national and global championships in track and wrestling for fun on the side. obviously, his matches were the most popular in viewership across the university. the golden boy, he never once failed to add another gold medal to your university’s esteemed profile.

so, you knew who he was, but you couldn’t understand why his eyes were stuck on you and only you.

you’d first met him at a party held by one of his close friends, namjoon. you were introduced briefly and didn’t exchange any numbers or socials. but, that following morning, jngkk_97 followed you on instagram. and, from that day on, he was the first guy to like your posts, the first guy to view your stories and the first guy you knew of to not slide into your dms.

with his intriguing, yet unexpectedly distant, behaviour, he found his way into your mind— 24/7. so, every morning, you awoke, gaslighting yourself into believing that the thought of his pink, pouty lips on yours didn't actually send you into a midlife crisis. they just made you a little faint.

every single night, you tucked your fragile mind into bed, losing yourself in hazy dreams branded by the thought of jungkook's touch. but, after a few weeks of contactless flirting, you let the idea of him go.

because you’d been told he had a girlfriend.

although it usually took a lot to do so, you felt the cowardly urge to give up on your infatuation. it'd been more than 2 weeks of mutual stalking but, still, no message. you guessed, he just wasn't as desperate for you as you were for him.

and you didn't like that. so you quit your daily routine of streaming his instagram and greedily watched as he kept up his own stalkish routine, consecutively failing to direct his focus back onto his girlfriend.

the same gorgeous girlfriend sitting with him on a black and cushy beanbag, radiating as she spoke to the other students around them. and that's when you realised, not having each other's undivided attention must've been a thing in their relationship.

because, his doe eyes of false innocence were only on you.

it was the first time you were seeing each other in person after namjoon’s party.

you stared back at jungkook through the wide, unglazed window in the separating wall between the kitchen and the living room. even with his supposed girlfriend of 5 months on his lap, running her fingers through his hair, his eyes were only on you. you scoffed, chuckling to yourself.

he would be fun.

leaning back on the kitchen counter of jennie’s apartment, you tilted your head to the side. intrigued, you watched as he did the same, copying your actions with a lopsided grin. now, you didn’t have the best eyesight but you weren’t so blind that you couldn’t tell that he was clearly hinting at something. something that would land you in a very taboo situation.

and you loved that.

you lifted your plastic cup to your lips and turned away from the athlete sitting at the other end of the room. you downed your drink as you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. you looked around for your best friend and there she was, face deep in boobs.

as you made your way to the couch she was sprawled on, you realised the athlete had disappeared from his girlfriend’s side. curious of where he’d disappeared to, your eyes ran across the packed apartment, desperate for the sight of him.

and there it was, the something.

he was standing near the front door and his girlfriend had gone to sit with other seniors. it looked like he was exchanging goodbyes with his friends.

he was leaving— without his girlfriend.

“jennie, i think i’m going,” you mindlessly whispered, eyes stuck on the 5’10" hottie with his foot out the door and doe eyes drifting back across the crowded room. then his eyes were on yours again: a silent exchange of words.

“already…?” a drunk jennie whined, lifting her face from the deep cleavage of her girlfriend. “wait,” she mumbled, eyebrows scrunching into a sobering expression, and squinted her eyes at your side profile. “you think?”

satisfied with your decided future, you turned back to your best friend with your lips curling into a sly grin. “no, i know.”

she lazily propped herself up on her girlfriend and whined, “but how’re you gonna get home~?”

the front door slammed shut.

“i’ll find a ride.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

jungkook picked at the zip of his thin bomber coat. he was leaning against his black benz, waiting.

ever since he first laid his eyes on you in that little backless, black dress, jungkook knew you were trouble. you were a distraction; more distracting than the pending termination of his current relationship; and much more distracting than the thought of joining the national track team again. you were a parasite living in his mind.

he practically breathed you. when he woke, you were his first thought. when he felt compelled to open instagram, you were there. even when he would try to escape you in his sleep, you were there. he could barely last ten seconds sinking into the thought of you. if you let him sink into the reality of you, jungkook would cease to exist.

jungkook groaned, throwing back his head. he thought he would be fine and perfectly content with your instagram and your daily occurrence in his dreams (sexual or not), but you just had to show up at this party— held by your best friend. how was he supposed to know you guys were best friends? now he was actually waiting for the real you and he could feel himself going mad. he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands to himself and he could already feel the consequences of his future actions creeping up on him—

“who bought that for you?”

his ears twitched.

his heart lunged and his eyes found yours in an instant. but jungkook’s always had a wandering eye.

his eyes almost instantly fell to your body, trailing over your exposed cleavage in your white dress, and then dropping to the high slit on your left thigh, almost exposing your crotch. you were some type of angel for sure.

he was fucked.

jungkook was fucked the moment he met you; the moment he spent over an hour scrolling through countless instagram accounts to find yours; the moment he couldn’t dream of his own future without you showing up; and the moment he began to pray you showed up in his dreams every night before bed.

he was fucked because he feared once he had a hold on you, he would never be able to let go.

a man’s logic.

“my dad,” jungkook finally replied, pulling himself together. “he decided i needed a car— because i run 24/7. and there definitely cannot be a cheaper and better car than a mercedes benz.”

his sarcastic tone made you smile.

“that’s cute,” you smiled.

it went silent.

“do you need a ride?”

“don’t you have a girlfriend?” you rebutted with a smirk. truthfully, part of you didn’t care about his answer. you were an addict in front of a line of coke. you would get what you wanted one way or another.

“ha,” he chuckled, lowering his head in what you thought was shame. your question put jungkook on the spot. and you knew cheaters never worked well when put on the spot. but jungkook looked up with a wincing smile and corrected you, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

oh.

“we’re… complicated.”

now, jungkook wasn’t sure that choyeon would’ve given you the same answer. they weren’t together, but she acted as if they were. and he didn’t make much of an effort to correct her. so, he guessed he was still guilty. but he only felt guilty to a certain extent. he’d already chosen feeling guilty about hurting choyeon rather than missing an opportunity to get what he dreamed of.

what he fucking craved.

the sound of your heels getting closer to him kissed jungkook out of his thoughts. oh, you seduced him: the feeling of your manicured fingers gently grabbing hold of his chin and slowly lowering his clouded eyes to yours.

you whispered, “how complicated?”

jungkook held his breath for a second or two. how complicated were they? well, he knew they were complicated enough for him to forget about her in your presence and only remember her when you asked him to. however, they weren’t complicated enough for them to not be in some sort of a relationship.

but he decided it didn’t matter. when it came to you, she didn’t matter. he realised how beautiful your eyes looked under the moonlight. they glistened with the false innocence jungkook knew would ruin him. after all the nights of imagined panting, moaning and fucking and mornings of bitter reality, post-clarity and cum-stained sheets, jungkook burned for your touch.

fuck, he could almost taste you.

as if you could read his thoughts, your awaiting finger finally fell onto the his plump bottom lip, sweetly kissing the man out of his stupor. your eyes left his and fell to where your finger slowly traced across jungkook’s soft, pink receipt of kisses.

that’s when his lips parted, and he whispered, “as complicated as you want.”

at his answer, your distracted eyes flickered back up to his awaiting, hooded eyes. that’s when you, too, realised how dangerous your infatuation had gotten. just the sight of those buttered chestnut eyes and the intoxicating feel of his slow exhales on your skin forced you into a reality where you lacked even the smallest control over your own body. but, even more dangerous, was how little you cared about the way you drowned in his presence. but then again, you never did learn how to swim.

you smiled, letting your hands fall back to your sides.

“i’ll take that ride.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

the ride back to yours was almost silent, only filled with random whispers of directions coming from jungkook’s gps system. the voiced map directed him to your address and, yet, everything else pointed his eyes to you.

jungkook took a glance at you. he watched you; he watched you with your elbow propped up onto the rolled-down window, relaxed upper body peeking out into seoul’s night. he saw how you leaned further into the wind licking at your cheeks when he pressed on the gas, a hint of a smile wavering across your partially hidden face. he watched you in the silence, accepting his loud need— his loud need for you.

and he didn’t even know you. but jungkook couldn’t seem to find the rational sense to care. he knew you were a ‘stranger’ but, fuck, you’d overwhelmed his entire existence. you had damned him to the crucifying point where he actually felt the need to breathe you— to accept every single inch of you into his being— and he had no idea why. even as he glanced in your direction for the hundredth time, he couldn’t dare try to understand how you’d done this to him.

once again, as if you could read his thoughts, your head turned, lost eyes running over the lavender lights in the car. and like a key, your wandering eyes pierced his and locked his gaze onto yours.

“you’ve arrived at your destination,” the gps announced, breaking the exchanged glance. jungkook turned back to the road, and you turned back to seoul’s night.

“mm, just here,” you hummed, pointing to an empty parking spot in front of the tall apartment complex. maybe it was just human curiosity, but you found yourself mesmerised by the way he smoothly slotted the benz into the empty space.

fuck, everything he did was hot.

the sound of the engine’s hum softening into a quiet mew reminded jungkook of the anticipation clawing at his skin. it clouded his senses. but when his eyes flitted back onto you, yours were already on his.

he watched your lips part, and stilled as your next whisper left a trail of wet kisses across his mind.

“come up with me.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

“thanks,” you started, slotting your key into auburn door’s lock. turning to catch a glimpse of jungkook’s dewy eyes behind his black locks, you smiled and continued, “for the ride.”

jungkook’s lips quirked into the same lopsided grin from earlier. “you’re welcome,” he replied.

it was silent again.

with those hidden eyes still on yours, jungkook’s tongue slipped past his lips, running over his bottom lips. your gaze dropped to the pink tongue flitting across those pink, pillowy lips of his, and you sunk. those lips forced you into a familiar daydream where all that mattered was letting your tongue glide across his bottom lip until you slipped in, fucking his tongue with yours— tasting jungkook.

you needed a taste.

you glanced back up into his prolonged stare. then your hands were falling from the keys in the door, fingers smoothing across the nape of his neck and cheek, and tugging his lips down to yours. but jungkook’s hands were already cradling your hips, touch-starved fingers pressing into your sides, as his lips met yours first.

it was a gentle yet deep peck. a peck was quick: it allowed jungkook to draw back for two crucial seconds and let his clouded vision run over your expression. alluring eyes looked up into his gaze and jungkook could finally see it: your mutual desperation, the hunger, and the torture. it was all he needed to see before his finger was tilting your chin up once more, and his lips were taking you in.

from brushing his tongue past yours to savouring the taste of alcohol on your tongue, jungkook sunk into the taste of you. but he didn’t know if he could go any longer without sinking into you. his hand left your waist cold, fingers fumbling with the keys in the door and failing miserably. “no,” you rushed, lips barely leaving his. “turn them to the right.”

after hearing the click of your stubborn door unlocking, you were all over each other again. you stumbled into your apartment, hand quickly muddling with the light switch, with jungkook hurrying after you, tossing your keys and his suffocating jacket aside.

his daring fingers smoothed over your ass, kneading the soft, clothed skin, before lifting you to his hips. a deep hum of approval rumbled against your lips as your legs wrapped around him. but, in this position, your little dress had ridden up, exposing a white thong snug to your weeping slit. and who on earth would jungkook be if he didn’t cop a feel?

lifting you up once more to adjust his arm, the tips of jungkook’s fingers slipped under the white lace, fingers grazing across your supple ass. feeling his fingers inch closer to your needy cunt, your breath hitched and the dull stir in your core began to hum, itching for more than a simple touch.

and, as if he could read your mind, your breath was forced from you, head falling onto the lush cushions on your sofa. wafts of mint invading your senses, your hazy eyes took in how beautiful jungkook looked above you— like it was where he was meant to be. and he realised the same, the apartment’s warm and amber lights cascading through his locks and clouding the irises of your tempting eyes.

in that still second, both you and jungkook came to a silent agreement. your dreams couldn’t compare to reality.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

you blinked. you knew you were beautiful— of course— but hearing the phrase trickle out of jungkook’s pretty mouth felt…different. your eyes followed his as his gaze fluttered across your face, brows furrowing as if he were in awe.

“kiss me,” you begged, and he obeyed.

greedy, jungkook’s kisses were everywhere— on your swollen lips, before tumbling down your jaw to the middle of your neck, littering a trail of bruising hickeys. and you couldn’t do anything but moan, whimper, and sink into his sweet touch.

“oh, fuck,” you whined, head tilting back into the plush sofa. your fingers pushed through the thick rift of hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on it. but you never would’ve expected such a pathetic moan to leave his throat, rumbling into the sweet spot right above your collarbone. you paused. his moan echoed in your mind— a repeating succulent sound. so, you tugged a little harder, relishing in how he muffled a guttural whimper into the base of your neck, “mmf, fuck”. but then his hips began to move against yours, revengeful, and you realised how fucked you were— and would be.

jungkook had a bulge that made you wonder; wonder how he crammed that shit into his boxers; wonder how he lived a seemingly normal life with it; and wonder how he would struggle to cram that cock into your sopping mess of a cunt. so, as he ground down against your erect clit, your hips bucked up into his fucking, eager to measure the sheer size of the hidden dick. “oh, please,” you whined, thoughts stained by the way he licked a hot stripe across your ear’s helix, boner perfectly smushing down against your clit.

bruising lips barely touching yours, half-lidded eyes cruelly watched as you rode up into his clothed cock and stuttered moans so pathetic your cheeks burned, glazed eyes brimming with tears. he was already fucking you so good, and he hadn’t even touched your bare pussy yet.

oh, jungkook ruined you. with a hand trailing down your heated sides, he sent your body into a rabid heat, his touch only licking the wet flame ruining your ability to think. and when his hand finally cupped your leaking cunt, thumb circling over your pulsing clit, you were already begging pitiful whimpers. “please, please, please—”

“___?”

your bodies stilled.

a voice that was not yours or jungkook’s echoed throughout the apartment, piercing the thick haze that’d swallowed your minds whole. you blinked, stare slowly lowering to jungkook’s stunned stare that was already on you. his doe eyes wrinkled into a smile as his lips pursed into an awkward grin. the cringe was evident on his face; he was a grown adult getting caught with his hand deep in the cookie jar.

jungkook’s head slowly raised and turned, peeking over the sofa to see your intruder and his cockblock. then he froze. still hidden from the eyes of your cockblock, you eyed his expression, confused on why remained still, eyes wide, lips pursed and ears burning red.

who was it?

begrudgingly, you shuffled out of jungkook’s caging arms, propping yourself up on your elbows, and looked over the sofa, ready to kick out your cockblocking neighbour. but who you saw wasn’t an unfortunate neighbour you could just dismiss. in fact, the person you saw made you the unfortunate neighbour because there your best friend stood, mouth agape and only a foot into the apartment.

“oh, fuck. well, um. oh wow,” jennie blubbered, feet awkwardly wobbling over the door’s threshold. now, drunk jennie didn’t have the best memory but she could’ve sworn she’d warned you about jungkook’s relationship status. so, as you watched the cogs turn in her head, her brows furrow and her eyes squint, darting between the both of you, all you could do was blink and smile.

“…what the fuck?”

gg: ‘slowburn?’ - fini

[alwayscorvus]

"Slow Burn" - Blade as your boyfriend

"Slow Burn" - Blade as your boyfriend

Blade x malereader, fluff, soulmate au; Warning! reluctant, cold Blade at first - "slow burn"

Part 2;

Meeting each other:

It's not that Blade didn't believe in soulmates. He did.

What's more, he dreamed of meeting one.

But it lasted only for a little while.

When he still was a little naive boy.

Boy who hoped to find someone that could keep him company when he was lonely. Someone who would take care of him. Someone to whom he could give all his love to and by whom he would feel appreciated.

Those days, however, are gone.

Blade quickly realized that life wasn't as cheerful as they say.

He grew up.

All wounds he had gained made him understand that he could only count on himself. Only he could protect himself.

And he only trusted himself.

Besides, after what he had done... He didn't deserve love.

At least that's what he thought.

So he didn't seek for a soulmate.

But soulmate found him on its own way.

And Blade chose to believe that all this wasn't Elio's plan at all.

When Blade met you for the first time. His heart stopped for a second.

For a good minute he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Your reaction wasn't any better.

Something hidden deep in Blade took control of him.

That legendary power, destiny...

Everything around him seemed to have disappeared. Sounds from the outside, excited voices of Kafka and Silver.

Background blurred and the only clear thing in his field of view was... you.

However, Blade was quick to regain his senses. He straightened up, put a serious expression and decided to act cold.

He ignored your presence and walked past you with a swift, energetic move.

Seeing this reaction you bluntly understood his message.

And you chose to act the same way. Without forcing your presence.

However, everything changed when it turned out that your company enhanced Blade's skills, in a mutual manner.

Together you were an unstoppable duo.

It was a common thing for soulmates. To become stronger in each other's presence. But Blade felt that only after your first mission.

After first encounter, every separation made both soulmates weaker. Alone, a person couldn't reach they 100% potential.

That's why Blade decided to use you to become better. To be able to kill more.

He would never let you leave.

And, by the way... you were not that bad kind of a warrior yourself.

Don't get him wrong. Blade "DIDN'T NEED" you. But the fact that someone watched his back and let him avoid a few new wounds, wasn't that bad either.

Blade liked to self-improve himself in his free time.

Since he met you he found a new way to do that. He started reading about soulmate's bond.

By this, he learned that touch could strengthened the bond. And the stronger the bond was, the stronger attacks, abilities and talents were.

Perhaps it wasn't an unexpected news. But for Blade, who had never felt a care, never felt a warmth of another person...

It wasn't anything normal.

So Blade began to seek a contact with you. Talking seemed too tiring. And it didn't seem that effective either. Also, Blade didn't want to get to know you. He wasn't interested in what you like and what you don't. It all seemed so trivial and unnecessary for him.

He didn't care what you were like. Althouht not for long.

Blade had no idea how should he get it done. That's why he threw an open book in your direction and pointed a correct line with his finger.

He looked at you with a stiff, unfriendly face, crossing his arms on his chest.

You did what he told you to do. Because Blade couldn't tolerate any objections.

It started with holding his hand.

But Blade felt so awkward with it... Like some stupid tenager.

And it was all because he was an adult now! Not because he felt embarassed... Right?!

So he quickly snatched his hand out of your grasp and stood up rapidly.

He suggested something else. Something in what he didn't have to look at you.

You started laying down together. Blade with his back to you. And you embracing him.

You didn't see this as the best way to get to know each other. You both had definitely skipped a few steps.

But seeing Blade's piercing face earlier, you didn't want to start a quarrel. And you also wanted to seize an opportunity. Maybe that would really let you to get closer to him. After all, you were soulmates. You were destined for each other. You were meant to spend the rest of your lives with each other-

And it's not that in this world soulmates always ended up together. Sometimes they stayed just as a friends. Sometimes they parted ways. They found someone else, despite their inner voice and loved each other very deeply. And sometimes they just didn't meet at all.

Yet you really had no choice. First of all, you began to tie your future with working as Stellaron Hunter. Secondly... Blade really didn't look like someone who would let you go. Not that you really minded that. At least you felt appreciated. And deep inside, you felt that Blade wasn't as bad as he tried to pretend.

At first Blade was stiff.

Very much. As a board.

At first you yourself felt a little uncomfortable too. But later you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. He was adorable and funny at the same time. But it was, after all, his first time.

At some point, after many attempts, you started to get used to it. And Blade stopped being so stiff.

You, however, couldn't stand this silence. So you took the lead and started talking about yourself. After all, you didn't count on getting anything out of Blade.

Blade wished so fricking bad for you to shut up. Your warm breath tickled his ear and caused some weird twisting in his stomach.

However, he couldn't tell you to stop. After all, he didn't want to show you how much he blushed at that time. What an effect you had on him.

At first he tried not to listen to you. And he couldn't even focus on your speech, to be honest.

At some point, however, he began to gather informations about you. Eventually he realized that since he was lying still anyway, he could listen to you and maybe collect some valuable knowledge. But obviously, he didn't let it show.

But after weeks, he himself started to join your conversation. First with a few snarky comments. Then, with full sentences, Blade began to add something about himself.

He started to treasure every thing that he knew about you. What's more. He was proud that he knew so much of you. He loved to rub it in Silver's face.

After a year together you really started to matter to him.

Habits/Facts:

You were always there for him. Both, in little and in big things. You took care of him when he was sick. When he was busy, you brought small things that he needed like book or tissue, or food for example. But you also saved his life more than once. You cared, you helped him. He really meant something to you.

And you never left him. Even when he was cruel to you. When he ordered, shouted for you to leave.

After a few years, Blade got used to your presence. Not only that. He actually fell in love.

Finally he mattered to someone. And it wasn't just anyone. It was you. The most wonderful person he ever met.

He was the one who asked you to become a couple. Or rather, he decided for you two and just let you know. Typically, in his style.

One afternoon, when he had had enough of Kafka's teasting. He finally broke down and said that "you are together". This effectively shut her mouth while you looked at him with your eyes wide open.

As Blade claimed, putting a label on your relationship was also very beneficial. From then on, you were able to live in a shared bedroom. Yours, because it was more cozy according to Blade.

Of course, he didn't dare tell you that.

Besides, Blade often doesn't tell you many things. Especially if it involves his feelings. Although he doesn't look like it, he is extremely shy in these matters.

He also likes to decide by himself. He just tells you what the plan is and immediately gets into action. Without even waiting for your answer.

You got used to it. At least he keeps you updated. So it could be worse.

Well, and when something really bothers you. And you say it in a firm voice, Blade will stop right away.

Currently you are the only one who can cool him down and talk some sense into him. This is especially helpful on a missions.

When you finally told him that you love him and he felt a true sincerity in it, he burst into tears. For the first time since joining Stellaron Hunters. He lost, overwhelmed with emotions.

It took him years to fully trust you. And say it back.

But when he did... oh boy. You'll never forget it. Especially since Blade isn't eager to show too much affection.

His favorite form of relaxation is to lay his head on your exposed chest and listen to your heartbeat as you lie on your bed together. He feels calm and safe then. He has the assurance that you are alive and that you are really here. That someone really cares about him. And that it isn't just an illusion.

This also relates to your mornings: warm rays of the sun caress his bare shoulders. You affectionately brush through his hair. He then purrs quietly with approval.

But only for a moment.

He quickly returns to listening to the sounds of your heart.

Although Blade pretends otherwise he can be really insecure. Especially when it comes to his scars, which he has plenty of due to the battles he took.

He waited a long time before showing you his body. When he finally did, he couldn't look you in the eye. And you, seeing his back, froze. Blade heard you holding your breath. He started to panic and began to regret his decisions. As soon as you saw him trembling, you immediately got up from the bed, ran over to him. You started to kiss every single one, even the smallest wounds.

He won't admit it but he cares deeply about your approval. And every compliment you say sticks in his head.

When he is jealous he won't tell you directly but will easily let you feel it. Blade will avoid you. And he will start walking faster when you try to reach him. When you finally catch up to him, he'll pretend he doesn't hear you and that he has something more important to do.

Tell him that he is the only one that matters to you. And that in your eyes there is no one better than him. He will hesitantly forgive you and let you lock him in a tight hug. But while still keeping a poker face.

You must reassure him that he is important to you and remind him of his worth. He, unfortunately, often forgets about that and it leads him to a horrible conditions.

If u want to make him blush don't think about touching him in public or anything like that. He doesn't care. At least he acts like its not a big deal. You are a couple. You did it plenty of times. Besides, any work partner can grab his companion's arm or hand.

Instead, make some kind gesture with which you show him that you care about him. For example, make him breakfast in bed and his cheeks will immediately cover in a big reddish blush. He won't acknowledge you with even a single word. But will instantly take the tray from you.

Fights... They are a big part of your daily life. Pumped up Blade always runs ahead while you watch his back.

However, Blade doesn't forget about your presence and after each defeated opponent, he searches you with his eyes and makes sure you're okay.

In theory, he could rely on your soulmate's bond. And wait for a "stab" in his heart which would tell him that something is wrong with you. But he couldn't stand by and let himself lose the only important person in his life.

After a long tiring struggle, you are blessed with his horse voice. You aren't sure if you have heard anything more relaxing in your life.

Hearing the meaning of red spider lilies* that so often surrounded him, you decided to replace them with something else. Something he could love.

You've made a habit of bringing him bouquets of red roses. And he developed the habit of drying them. At some point he collected so many that he didn't know what to do with them anymore. Now Blade separates some of them into petals. Which he places in a notebook. Transforms into his favorite teas. Or perfumes, which he uses on himself. Thanks to that, even in your absence, he can feel your presence.

Let's say it's over for today because translating it will be very painful for me anyway...

*Red spider lilies are associated with death, sad memories, last goodbyes, especially to loved ones and for this reason, they aren't given as gifts.

While red roses symbolize a true love🥀

[gimme-a-man-after-midnight]

my royal roomie (part 2)

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Orm Marius x Reader

part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/gimme-a-man-after-midnight/693273500438429696/my-royal-roomie-pt-1?source=share

Summary: After a few days of living under your roof, Orm gets to know the little surface dweller he's been stuck with. With time, a stormy night, and a bottle of wine, the prince learns that he has more in common with you than he may think.

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: female reader, slow burn, light cursing, mentions of past emotional abuse, divorced parents!reader, dead parent, comic lore inaccuracies, floral inaccuracies??

Author's Note:

hi y'all! here's the full part 2 i've been working on for some time! thanks for the support on the last one and again, so sorry for the late continuation :/ i hope this story is to your liking! happy reading!

After the first one-on-one conversation you had in the living room, Orm didn't come out of the guest bedroom for days. You’d see flashes of platinum blonde out of the corner of your eye, just barely missing him by a few seconds whenever you’d be in the kitchen or outside of his door. You had made many offers through the red painted oak of his room to go grocery shopping together or take him on a tour of the town, but all of your efforts were met with a stern "No thank you." You had lost any hope you had of forming some kind of connection with the Atlantean for a while, cutting your losses by quietly resigning to a parallel existence. What you didn’t expect was the mutual understanding you two would come to on one fateful stormy Friday night, much like the one that brought him to your doorstep.

***

 Heavy traffic from the drive home, a full message inbox on your telephone, and the burnt attempt at roast chicken sitting on your oven rack had you nursing a glass bottle of wine by the living room window. Bad days were normal for anybody, but it didn’t make them easier to deal with on your own - the added stress of the stranger living in your space didn’t help either. You had been living a quiet life ever since you moved back to the sleepy town some years ago, taking up very little space and leaving minimal traces of yourself. Whether it was out of caution or cowardice, you weren’t sure yet. Either way, that silence had brought you comfort at a time where your thoughts were too loud, but now with another person occupying your space the quiet was becoming suffocating. 

Orm wasn’t by any means a bad roommate - he kept to himself, he didn’t make much noise, and he even managed to wash his dishes whenever he knew you weren’t in the kitchen - but he was a man.The last time you had lived with a man, the end of its course felt similar to how you two were living now, and maybe that’s why it was bothering you so much. Tip-toeing around the Atlantean made you feel uneasy in your own home, a situation you were all too familiar with. Typically at this time in the night you would be cooking up some plan to urge the man out of his guest room, but after the day you had, you didn’t have the heart to try. 

Once you took your final gulp of wine, wiping at the sides of your mouth with the back of your hand, you trudged away from the raging display outside of your window. The dishes could be a tomorrow problem, you thought to yourself as you were leaving your kitchen counter behind. You had only made it a few paces out of the living room before your body was overcome with chills, making you draw your blanket tighter around you. The draft through the house was unmistakable, confusing you thoroughly due to you always making sure the doors and windows were shut before bed. As you stepped deeper into the house, you realized the distinct breeze was coming from the direction of the guest bedroom. You had made it a point to allow Orm his space, but your brain was stirring with reasons for what he could possibly be doing in there  - most of them unsavory. 

With a deep breath and a tight fist holding your blanket, you gently rapped at the door. 

“Hey, Orm?”

No response. You knock again.

“I don’t mean to bother, but I’m feeling a bit of a breeze through the house and I can tell it’s coming from here, so I just want to see if everything is alri-”

The door suddenly opened a crack, revealing half of Orm’s face which was already more than you had seen in days. 

“If you don’t mean to bother, then don’t.”

The curt response, although expected, has you taken aback. Already seeing the Atlantean retreat from the spot again, you hold the door in its place in effort to keep his attention.

“Look, I know you wanna be alone, but I can’t help wondering why a cold ass breeze is coming from your room, so I just want to see what’s going on. Please, it’s freezing right now.” You do your best to keep control of your tone, not wanting to let on just how much the cold was getting to you - giving the prince another reason to look down on humans wasn’t on your agenda for the night.

 Almost as if he commanded the storm, the lightning cracked loudly outside as Orm swung his door open, revealing his full disheveled state to you. You jolted in place, practically leaping a step back in defense at the swift move.

“What’s going on is the stench of your burnt dinner was practically singeing my nostrils. I opened a window in hopes that I could find some relief, because clearly you surface dwellers have no trouble polluting not only the ocean, but your precious breathing air as well! I have little care for how cold your fragile body may get, so I suggest you retire to your room at once and leave me be.”  

There was a gap in the yelling match conversation, almost as if the blond was waiting for you to bite back at his harsh words, but the glazed look in your eyes and parted lips made it evident to the Atlantean that your mind was elsewhere. Orm followed your gaze, noticing that it was locked onto the maroon sweater he was adorning, looking at it with equal parts surprise and melancholy. His enhanced hearing picked up on a hitch in your breath and chattering of your teeth, confirming to him that you were clearly shaken.

After the long silence, you mousily spoke.

“I didn’t leave that sweater out for you.” 

 The arbitrary words silenced Orm, his expression turning to one of confusion as he looked down at the knit fabric on his chest.

“...where did you find it?” 

Your voice didn’t change in volume when you made your inquiry, but your tone was somber. The candid emotion made the Atlantean clear his throat awkwardly, unsure of how to handle such vulnerability from his host. You couldn’t even fully appreciate how much messier Orm looked in comparison to when he first arrived - looking like a 90s wet dream with his ungelled hair, clenched jaw, and broad shoulders peeking out of his loose fitting clothes. No, it was the clothes that were holding your attention hostage.

“It was deep in the wooden wardrobe of my room…the garb you set out for me wasn’t suitable for the storm,” Orm says, arms crossed in a defensive manner as he anticipates your response.

A part of you wanted to laugh at his retort, the corner of your lips quirking up for a millisecond before melting back into the numb expression you had prior. 

“Are you going to ask me to change? Because I don’t see why I should relent,” the blond goads, pulling a haughty expression that comes all too naturally.

Orm wasn’t sure himself why he wanted to urge a response from you - why he wanted to learn more about this sweater that was clearly jumbling up your thoughts enough to render you so silent. He tried to chalk it up to plain boredom, tried to reason with himself that all his time in self-isolation was making him yearn for more. Still, even with those excuses lined up to justify his actions, he couldn’t explain why seeing the down-turned expression on your lips felt so unnerving. This woman in front of him now was like a shell in comparison to the buoyant, eccentric character he had been previously introduced to - and for some bizarre reason he didn’t like it. 

Your thought process, on the other hand, was going in a completely different route. The glaringly red knit in your line of sight brought back too many memories that you had made efforts to bury. The cursed sweater in combination with the Atlantean prince’s snark makes your breath quicken and your mind wander to the whisper of a past life that still takes up space in your home. You couldn’t decipher if your shivering was coming from Orm’s open window or from your body trying to eject all of the feelings evoked from seeing that damn sweater.

“I-I…you…you shouldn’t-” you shakily exhale, your eyes surveying around your surroundings to try and focus on literally anything else. You backstep, hoping that physically running away from the situation will do you good, but your eyes lining up with the red-clad chest and the sound of the booming thunder makes you falter. Your hand clutches at your chest, the white knuckled grip on your blanket alerting your roommate.

The prince's body calls to action, making Orm take an instinctive step forward, reaching out as if to try and steady you. 

“What is happening with you? Why are you so high-strung? Do humans go into cardiac arrest so easily?” 

You couldn’t hear his stern questioning, your mind flitting to images of firm fists slammed against tables and nights spent alone, buried deep under your covers in the hopes of being swallowed by the sheets. It was like the space in your lungs was being taken up by a vice grip, and your ability to think - to form a simple thought that didn’t make your heart hurt - was completely ripped away from you. Even after four years, the memories of him still have so much power over you in a way that’s paralyzing.

“I-I just - I need - I need to breathe!”

With that final exclamation, you scurried away from the Atlantean, quickly making it back to your room before slamming the door shut behind you. Orm was left stunned outside of his door, his eyes trained in the direction of your room down the hall. 

What the hell just happened?

***

Arthur was done - so done.

The newly crowned Atlantean king had so much on his plate already, what with his upcoming engagement underway and him having an entire kingdom to look after. While he did appreciate his little brother feeling comfortable enough to call him at such an ungodly hour, the words the blond uttered made him want to pull his hair out. 

“I think I broke her - your human.”

“Bro, what?”

It was too fucking early for this. 

“Don’t call me - agh, nevermind - something’s wrong with your human and I’m not sure how to approach the situation. Is this really an environment you believe me to find enrichment from? My host is clearly on the brink of some sort of breakdown and I-”

“Wow, I never took you for someone that was so easily shaken, brother.”

Arthur’s poorly timed quip makes Orm stare back at the projection call with a blank face.

“First off, she’s not my human, she’s her own person. Second, what did you even do? She’s not one to just collapse on her own - although she is a serial overthinker and could definitely talk herself to an early grave...”

Orm, frustrated with his half-brother’s lack of support, rolls his eyes over the call.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Something must’ve set her off or triggered her to react in a way. You sure you didn’t do anything?” 

“All I did was answer the door when she knocked. When she saw me at the entrance, she saw the sweater I was wearing and was overcome with emotion. That’s hardly my fault.”

Orm can see Arthur’s brows furrow in thought at the information, almost as if he’s assessing whether he’s been given the whole story or not.

“Well…where’d you get the sweater?”

“I hardly think that matters-”

“Just answer the question, bro-”

An exasperated grunt leaves Orm as he grips at the sheets beneath him in an attempt to contain himself. A part of him regretted bringing up the matter at all, communication with his half-brother being much too awkward to bear. 

“I got it from the wooden wardrobe inside of my chambers! It was much more practical to wear than the flimsy garb-”

“Shit,” Arthur cuts him off, the hologram shifting as the man rubs at his eyes. “The wooden wardrobe with vines on the sides?”

It was Orm’s turn to be taken aback, unsure of how he knew the detail from off the top of his head.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

A muffled sigh comes from Arthur’s end, the image changing again as the king shuffles out of bed quietly to not disturb a sleeping Mera.

“Listen, dude. It’s not my place to speak on her business like this, but all I can say is that the wardrobe - that room - holds a lot of memories that are painful for her. I know you didn’t mean to bring them up, but that wardrobe is off limits. Just try and apologize for now, but don’t pry.”

“But why should I-”

“Orm, seriously! I get it, you don’t like being there - that you’ve spent every day in your room ever since I dropped you off, but she’s been trying. She’s been doing everything she can to get you out of your shell and you’re not giving back anything. There has to be some give here, and that can start with you saying sorry.” 

Orm was surprised by the fact that Arthur knew of his daily whereabouts already, undoubtedly asking you for updates on him. However, what surprised him the most was that even though you have seemingly complained to his half brother, you never once suggested kicking him out - never demanded he leave your house and have Atlantis deal with him. You truly were a peculiar little thing. 

“...fine. But don’t expect me to continue such niceties with her.”

A belly laugh could be heard from over the call, surely out of amusement for the prince's unwavering coldness.

“Good. Now hang up, you disrupted my beauty sleep.”

With a scoff, Orm presses on the green gem of his wristlet and heads off to the direction of your room.

***

When Orm knocks on your door, he expects a big fuss - bouts of yelling, arguing, or cursing that’ll leave his highly sensitive ears ringing. What he doesn’t expect is everyone of his knocks being met with silence - deafening silence now that the storm has subsided. 

“Hello?”

The prince feels weirdly small waiting by your door for your answer, having no clue what he’ll be met with on the other side of him. (It also gives him some insight on how you must feel every time you knock on his door to chat, although he’d never admit to having similarities with you,)

“Are you ignoring me?” 

More silence. 

“Oh, enough of this childishness.”

With a deep breath in, Orm turns the knob of your door and lets himself into your room. He’s met with colorful tapestries embellishing the walls, big rugs covering the hardwood floor, and twinkling lights surrounding the bed frame. The scene that you set for yourself in your room makes Orm think about his home - the way that the colorful bioluminescence would sparkle throughout his kingdom. 

When the initial first impression of your room wears off, he notices there is no one in the bed. No squirming presence under the sheets or anyone sitting on top of the bed to give him a stern talking to. Where did you go?

The blond takes a tentative step inside, stepping over the fuzzy carpets to keep from disturbing their arrangement. When he walks past the bed frame and closer to the window, he sees a lump of a human wearing a large blanket over their shoulders and some type of bulky headgear that covers your ears and emits sound. You were completely enthralled by the scene outside of the window that you hardly notice Orm stepping up next to you. 

A sudden hand on your shoulder has you jolting upward with a yelp, your hand instinctively slapping away at the intruder before you turn to look at where they came from.

“Jesus fucking christ!”

Orm gets into his own defensive position as you scramble to press your back against the wall, looking at you as if you were a trembling animal.

“My god, woman!”

“What are you doing in here you scared me half to-”

“I knocked but there was no answer so I-”

“Oh, so you decided to just welcome yourself in?”

Orm purses his lips in frustration, not thrilled at being met with the uproar he had originally expected. You sigh to yourself in disbelief, willing yourself to be quiet since there would be no productive conversation if you two kept yelling at each other.

“Next time just take the hint that I’m busy if I don’t answer, okay? You can’t just barge in here when you want, it’s not cool…”

The Atlantean has some sense to feel a shred of shame when you speak, although your words are hardly convincing when your eyes don’t turn in his direction for even a second. You look so timid standing there in your corner with the blanket consuming you completely - not at all like the spitfire that called him an “asshole” and warned him not to “test her.” (He secretly felt some relief in your loud exchange mere moments ago, because it meant that version of you was still there.) 

“I…I apologize for intruding.” 

Your head whips up to finally meet the man’s piercing blues, your mouth left slightly agape at an actual apology leaving the arrogant Atlantean’s lips.

“Uh…it’s okay...although, try not to do it again.”

Another moment of awkward silence passes.

“So…why’d you come in here?”

You ask this question as you take a seat back on the floor, resuming your position of staring out of the window only this time without your headphones. You pat the spot next to you on the floor, urging Orm to sit next to you. With a small eye roll, the blond begrudgingly joins you on your multi-colored carpet, opting to rest his arms against his knees as means to shield himself from you.

“I came here to apologize, not just for barging in, but for what happened earlier. I shouldn’t have gone through the wardrobe without your permission even if I needed different clothes. I should’ve asked you instead of rifling through your belongings on my own accord.”  

His apology, although rehearsed, seems genuine enough for your shoulders to relax. Your eyes follow the droplets of rain slowly trickling down the glass of your window, racking your brain for the right thing to say. 

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I just…I haven’t revisited the memories that room brings in a long time. You putting on that sweater unearthed them today, and it got me bad. See, I was having a shit day already what with keeping up with the shop, and then an accident causing traffic on the way home, and the wine that I usually like being out of stock-” 

Your rambling gets cut off by a soft chuckle coming from the man next to you, a sound that seems so uncharacteristically happy for his usual demeanor. The corners of your mouth perk up in disbelief, the expression making Orm quickly look away from you. 

“Huh. So that’s what your laugh sounds like. It’s nice…”

Orm didn’t understand why he reacted in such a way, you weren’t saying anything particularly funny…

…It’s just the way your eyes became so animated as you spoke more, your hands gesturing stronger as you explained further - it was amusing to him. So different from the usual company he keeps, always firmly placed brows and crossed arms from the high council members he consulted. Even the Atlantean women, although much more pleasant company, were more regal in comparison to his surface dweller host.  However, what you did have in common with those women was your tenacity. Even with his cold attitude towards you, your kindness was unwavering - a few times a day, without fail, you’d knock on his door with the promise of food and semi-entertaining company. He’s starting to regret only agreeing to the food.

God, he must be going stir crazy.

“What is it about the sweater that made you react in such a way?”

This was when you noticed that Orm was no longer wearing the offending material, choosing to wear the simping cotton T shirt you had given him. It may have been nothing - a simple delusion on your part - but the weight on your chest felt lighter at the idea that the Atlantean took it off to bring you comfort. 

“It - uh,” you stuttered, “it belonged to my ex-boyfriend. All of the stuff in that wardrobe did, actually. We painted the vines on the side of it together…” 

Orm’s arms flexed tighter around his knees at your words. He didn’t know how to respond, feeling significantly awkward due to adorning your ex lover’s clothing, so he decided to just shut up and let you continue.

“When I was 14 my parents got divorced. My mom wanted so badly to make it work, but my dad didn’t like his life here in Amnesty Bay - a part of me felt like he also didn’t like his life with us in general. I mean, he never had a problem making his grievances known, so…” 

Now, this was something the blond was familiar with - uncomfortable family dynamics. The realities of his parents’ marriage were never shielded from him growing up - he often witnessed the brutality of his father whenever his mother, Atlanna, would make her opposing opinions known. He often felt conflicted about which side to take - the one of least resistance that prioritized the well-being of his people or the one that looked out for the well-being of everyone, Atlanteans and surface dwellers alike. Hearing you now, speak your piece on your own upbringing, comforted him in a way he didn’t expect.

“The divorce was messy. Lots of nights spent being pulled in every direction, but with no real place to find peace. After everything settled, my dad ended up moving to New York while my mom remained here. They agreed that for the school year I’d stay with my mom, so she’d have some help at the flower shop, but I’d visit him on major holidays…”

The blanket around you suddenly feels too thin, a chill running over you as you recount your tale. You take a sneaky glance over your shoulder to check if the blond was still listening, and you were surprised (and delighted) to find that his steadfast gaze was at the side of your face. 

“...At some point during my years at university, my mom stopped asking me to visit - demanded that I only live with my dad when I was out of school. You can imagine Arthur had his qualms about that…”

You chuckled to yourself at the memory of a young Arthur blowing up your home phone upon hearing the news. 

“It would only be for the same visiting time as before, so there wasn’t much fuss on my dad’s end, but my relationship with him had become so different after the divorce that it wasn’t ideal. It…It hurt to hear my mom reject me like that.” 

Orm’s mind flashes back to the rain soaked figure of his mother, presenting herself to be siding with his half-brother after his defeat. The sting of her counteraction still lingers in his chest.

“When I had started dating my ex during my third year, I found out the reason my mom was keeping me from home - she got sick…cancer. All of the overworking to pay the bills, lack of support, and the hereditary traits…she got really sick. I guess she didn’t want me to see her in so much pain…” 

Orm watches as you turn away to stubbornly wipe at your face, a sniffle coming from your direction. He hadn’t expected you to willingly speak on your background when he asked about the sweater, but a part of him felt guilty for being the cause of your current distress.

“When she died, I moved back here to look after the house and take over the shop…but my ex had moved in with me. Darren.” 

More tears fell from your cheeks at the same speed as the rain running down your window.

“Darren offered to help me with the business, help me get on my feet. A part of me knew that he was going to hate the life we were starting together based on talks we had about the future, but I ignored it all when my grief became the only thing I felt for a long time. He always wanted more - more than our little town, more than the flower shop…so when an opportunity presented itself to have a life on his own, he took it. Just like my dad did…” 

 Orm’s heart drops at the end of your retelling, knowing the feeling of rejection and abandonment all too well. His father would be rolling in his grave if he knew what feelings this little surface dweller was stirring in him. The gap between the Atlanteans and the humans was closing in his mind, and Orm wasn’t sure if he cared to stop it. All he wanted at this moment was to stop you from crying. 

“I’m sorry for putting on the sweater…and for being an ungracious guest these past few days. I’ve been a real dick.” 

You can’t help but guffaw at his choice of words, using your fist to mask the unsightly sound as a cough. 

“That’s not a very princely thing to say…” 

Orm’s head tilts back as he snickers, feeling slightly proud of himself for inciting a better mood in you.

Ah, that laugh again, you think as you admire how ethereal the man looks in his relaxed state. 

“Perhaps my brother is to blame for my much more…colorful vernacular.” 

“Perhaps,” you hum in agreement, “or you’re just not as much of a dick as I previously thought…sorry for coming on so strong that first day.” 

Orm’s blue eyes shine at you with something unfamiliar - different to the cold, distant stare you were first met with. You find yourself wishing to always be at the receiving end of his kind eyes. 

Orm clears his throat before uttering, “No need to be…I was the one that misjudged you before ever seeing you.” 

A silence falls over you two, a comforting one built between new comrades. Your (e/c) gaze meets his as the storm calms outside of your window, signaling the start of a new chapter for you and your royal roommate. 

[seraphont]

FAQ & Important Info

About me:

bday: march 30th

lgbt?: im bi

What can we call you?

Seraphont is fine, its supposed to be a play on of Seraph and Serif Font, you can call me Seraph!

What pronouns do you use?

I'd prefer They/Them, but you can use She/Her.

Whats your Main blog?

not posting it publically for now.

Dying and Getting Over It (DaGOI au) Related:

Where can I read DaGOI?

It will be uploaded to my Ao3. its currently being written, so there is no link to the fic yet.

When will you post the fic?

short answer: I'm not sure, possibly by early october. its my first time writing a fic, so I ask you to be patient with me! the outline is written and being tweaked, and its going through adjustments now that MD ep 8 is out. Im also moving across the world, so I'm a tad bit busy rn.

Will you include MD ep8 into the canon of your fic?

at first I was on the fence, but its grown on me, its being integrated now.

Will you be drawing all of DaGOI in comic form?

if I was a stronger man I would. I'll mostly be drawing key story moments. making comics is an aid to helping me write. so I'll be making a lot, but I may not be posting them until the chapters start coming out (trying not to spoil everything). to give you an idea, as of writing this, I have 6 comics on the backburner lol.

Art Related:

What art program(s) do you use?

Procreate -Brushes: Shiyoon Kims Wet Brush pack (X) (everything you see on this blog is made with this brushpack) and several Max Packs (X) for procreate

How long have you been drawing?

I've always drawn, but I started getting really serious at 14, around the same time I first made my main blog. I was self taught up until I got into animation school.

What do you do as a career?

I'm currently doing Freelance work for publishers and individuals. I was previously an animator, I'm making the move to storyboarding

Do you take requests/commissions?

I do have commissions open. only lineart, and flat colours are available. if you want a rendered piece: slots are closed, but you can dm me for interest.

Asks and Messaging:

Rules for asks/tagging?

Anyone can send me an Ask, Mutuals, Anons or not!

Dont send discourse or anything explicitly NSFW. you'll be blocked lol. I'd prefer if you didnt send suggestive. if you send me triggering content I’ll mind blast you into dust. (block).

Do not send and DNI's?

Transphobia, Homophobia, Acephobia. All the obvious bigot contenders.

SA, pdfilia and incest are absolute no goes.

are you okay with me direct messaging you?

only if we have spoken before/ you're giving me a headsup about something/ I've prompted you to send me one.

***minors: please refrain from dming me to chit chat, im not down to.***

Why don’t you answer my asks/dms?

my main has 1000+ asks and my other side blog is pushing 250+, sometimes the ask's get lost in the sauce. that being said, some ask's go unaswered because: 1. it might spoil too much if I were to answer. 2. I simply have to think hard to reply. 3. its super nice and im hoarding it all for myself.

Misc

Can you reblog my donation posts?

no. too many scams.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Rem's Last Words

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 14. Against a blank white background, Rem stands, holding young Vash's hands, who leans back against her, looking at Knives with a smile. Young Knives stands next to them, smiling back and winking. Rem's voice says "Vash... don't leave Knives on his own." End ID.]

Rem's last words to Vash are never going to fail to completely mess me up. It totally changes the context of the twins' prior scenes.

All that time, that 80 years spent with Knives after the Big Fall, slowly growing to resent him more and more... do you think, even though he said the noise was such that he didn't hear her words, that somehow the message got through to him anyways? That Vash felt compelled to stay because this was his brother, and because Rem asked? And because Vash eventually swore to take down Knives in her name and for all those lost in July... do you think that counts as the breach of her ideals and memory he was so afraid of committing all along?

But could Vash really have been expected to stay with Knives when Knives took every opportunity to pull up a wall between them? Was Vash really in any state to have helped Knives the way Knives so desperately needed? I think, honestly, that this was a bit of an unfair request for Rem to make of Vash. But what else could she do?

She knew she probably wasn't going to make it out of there. She knew Knives wasn't ok. She may have even known that it was Knives who caused the Fall in the first place. But more than any of that, she knew that neither of these boys were ready to be left all alone in this world that they were both still so desperately afraid of.

I find it fascinating that Rem phrased it as "Don't leave Knives on his own" rather than "make sure you and Knives stick together" or that sort of thing. No matter how you look at it, it does appear to put responsibility on Vash for Knives, rather than a mutual "look out for each other" request. I have a suggestion for why she might've said this instead of the more mutual alternative.

We know Knives did not get any of the healing that he needed, and Rem was aware of this. He was keeping it all inside, and rapidly walling himself off. Rem, faced with the reality that she didn't have enough time to offer him the support that he needed, can only hope that he wouldn't close himself off from the one other person who had a chance of understanding him. Knives can't be alone, or he will spiral even worse.

And Vash? Well, I think it's easy to say that he was in a better place mentally than Knives, and while that may have been the case, it still doesn't mean he was in any way "recovered" from that trauma; how could one be? The only thing Rem promised him was that they would see the world together - that she would show him that the world wasn't full of terrible people. But they never actually got to do that - Vash was a suicidal child hanging onto her hopeful words and the emotional honesty she'd shown him thus far as a reason to keep trying, as a promise - and now, Rem finds herself having to break it. So, what will keep Vash going when she's gone? Having someone to look out for might do it, especially since young Vash is already shown in the flashbacks to be very "other" focused - note his other directed speech when speaking to Rem, and the way he seems more comfortable around Conrad when he shows acceptance of Knives. Rem probably knew that Vash was far more likely to look out for himself, paradoxically, if he had someone else to look out for.

[ID: Two panels from Trigun and Trigun Maximum. The first is from Trigun Volume 2, and shows young Vash with arms outstretched, his back to the reader, looking at Rem, hands in her pockets and smiling. They are against a white background, as young Vash says "Rem! Rem! I want to stay with you! You won't be all alone!" The second is from Trigun Maximum Volume 7, and shows young Knives, who quietly says "Ah," as he starts to cry. Young Vash approaches and puts his arm around Knives neck, who is still sobbing. He smiles and says "Thank you Mr. Conrad." End ID.]

Rem's last words, then, were intended to a) make sure Knives would have someone who could stick with him and help him where she didn't have the time to, and b) provide Vash with a purpose so that he will keep himself going.

Unfortunately, this didn't work at all the way she'd intended. Knives' unintentional killing of Rem (and I stand by the notion it was unintentional) messed him up even worse and forced him to fully take on the stance of hatred against all humanity in order to cope with the guilt, throwing a huge wedge between him and Vash, so stricken by grief and blindsided by his brother's actions that he'd throw himself into trying to be as much like (ideal) Rem, and as little like Knives, as possible. Knives spends the story desperately wanting Vash (or his ideal of him anyways) to stay with him in order to cure the loneliness he feels from being all alone, and Vash spends the story eternally guilt-ridden, taking on the blame and responsibility for his brother's actions.

And the tragedy to me is that you can't say any of this was for a lack of Rem trying. She just didn't have enough time to minimize the damage caused by the trauma of Tesla and her discovery. She just wanted them to at least have each other, and that... was the only thing, asides from "don't say you'd rather die", that she actually asked of Vash. Fucked up!!!

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[5:48 pm]

(part 2 to this)

(cw: very brief and vague conversation of mental health, alcohol use mentioned)

taglist: @kimxbae @naektthnoo @heyitsconysstuff @niinjo @naram99 @wonuziex @girlwithimaginarybiaslist @babeijustneedyou

Today was the first day Mark hadn't called or texted you since you broke up a month ago. He left voicemails, sent texts, and direct messages, even when you removed him from social media and had one of your mutual friends ask him to stop contacting you. At first it was the typical messages that he would send when he actually had time for you, good morning, have an awesome day, today I totally aced my biology exam! Then the messages turned to almost completely illegible messages on nights when he drank or message after message of apologies and begging you to forgive him. You never answered the messages or listened to any voicemails.

More than anything it hurt you how much effort he decided to put toward a relationship that was now done compared to the end of your relationship.

Today was the first day you were going out and feeling weightless, no sadness from the breakup- you felt good. Maybe that was because the semester was over and you were going home or because you didn't have any notifications from Mark, you didn't know and you really didn't care.

You were busy unpacking your bags, when you heard a knock on your bedroom door, "You have a visitor, hun."

You were confused as you made your way to the front door, you hadn't made any plans with your friends for today. Did you get the date wrong?

You were completely wrong, it was Mark. Luckily, he couldn't see you turn away from the door and head back to your room. Well, almost go to your room, you bumped into your mom, "You should talk to him, honey."

"I'm not ready to," you shook your head.

"Then maybe just hear him out, get some closure. I don't like seeing you sad," she suggested with a small smile.

You huffed, with a childish stomp of you foot. There was no telling this lady no. You pulled the door open and stepped outside, avoiding all contact with Mark who was staring at you with a stupid, surprised look on his face.

"I uh- wasn't sure if you'd be coming home. You never answered any of my texts or calls," he mumbled.

"Yeah and I didn't read or listen to anything you sent either, did you need something? I can have my mom drop off the stuff that might be here later," you replied.

"No I uh, I brought you these," he held out a bouquet of flowers, your favorites. You hated how your heart skipped a beat.

"Thanks," you answered briefly.

"I wanted also apologize, for uh, the well, you know."

You had to hold back your scoff, "Yeah Mark, every time I saw you sent me anything I was reminded of you dumping me for your frat bros."

"I didn't dump you..."

You huffed, taking a seat on the bench your parents have had on the porch since before you could remember. The bench where you told Mark about your crush at 15 and where you both shared your first kiss on your 16th birthday. How times had changed. "What would you call it then, Mark?"

He chuckled breathily, "It's weird hearing you call me Mark."

"Yeah, well would you call you ex baby or babe?"

"I don't have any other exes." He answered quietly.

The air was tense between the two of you. He sat at the opposite end of the bench, staring out at the street. "I'm really sorry, I promised you when we were 18 that I would never hurt you, and I broke your heart. I guess I broke my own heart too, I never wanted to hurt you the way I did.”

You laughed sarcastically, “What was the response you expected Mark? You pulled away from me for weeks and then show up telling me some other people I’ve never met are telling you to break up with me and you followed through! You have a mind of your own and you can make your own decisions, but you still listened to them!”

“Baby, I wasn’t thinking- ”

“Don’t- Mark,” you interrupted.

“I’m sorry. I really do mean it, I never wanted to hurt you but I did. I miss you, I miss hearing your laugh, seeing you everyday, talking to you everyday, and I miss being around you. Not even as your boyfriend but as your friend. I can never make up for the hurt I caused you, but I want to try again- if you’ll let me- of course.”

“I can’t do that Mark, you’re not the person I knew. You’re so different now, you have new priorities and I don’t want to go through being pushed aside again, even as friends.”

You could hear him clear his throat, “I don’t want to go back the old us, we’ve both grown and matured and we can do better than teenage us. If this was me before I wouldn’t have made any changes and continuously begged for you to take me back, but I want to better for you. I uh, I left the frat. You’re right, I don’t need a bunch of guys only a few years older than me telling me what to do. On top of that, my brother hated me calling them my brothers,” you laughed at that, “I also found someone on campus to help me deal with my stress. I know you said you could have helped me, but that shouldn't be your responsibility or really anybody's but my own."

"Good for you Mark, I'm proud of you," you nodded, you did mean it. You knew how hard it was for Mark to be away from home, away from his family, it wasn't easy for him to just do the work and not get the grades he was used to. It was a huge change for him.

"So while I'm not the person I want to be for you, I don't like me without you. I'd really like if you could give me another chance as your friend, and maybe one day when we're both ready we can give us another shot. If you want to of course."

"I can't forgive you and take you back like nothing happened, Mark. I don't even know if I still trust you," You sighed, running your hands over your face.

"I'll do everything I can to rebuild that trust. We'll take it slow, baby steps. If I mess up even one time, I'll leave and stay away from you forever," Mark ended softly.

"Being away from you for just a month has been awful, I'm giving you one more chance Mark, because I don't think my heart can handle you stomping all over it again," you lightly joked.

Mark hesitantly put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close, he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, "I wouldn't ever dream of it."

Things were going to be just fine.

[ukulelevillainwrites]

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x she/her reader

word count : 4.5k

content : in this part you get angst, reader and lockwood’s backstory and some plot with a side of ‘i didn’t know where else to go’ in subtext :)))

They ate dinner in silence. It was clear that the two guys she had in front of her weren’t used to having people over. They were sitting around the kitchen table, notes and drawings covering the cloth beneath their plates. She read the messages closest to her. Many were about cases they probably worked over the past couple of weeks. But here and there she noticed some insults directed at Lockwood and she was glad to see she wasn’t the only one who thought those things. A drawing of a visitor caught her attention. It wasn’t very detailed but its expression seemed sad and lonely nonetheless.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“That’s the ghost we have to take care of tomorrow. It’s probably a Type One so we should be done quickly.” George answered.

“Where is the house you have to take care of?”

“Hopkins Street in Soho.”

“I’ve been on a case near there! Though it was more dangerous, the Type Two we had to contain was more threatening than we had anticipated. And the house was big too, are you gonna be okay just the two of you?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Lockwood cut in.

“We could always add a third person, worst case scenario they just stand by…”

“I’d be happy to be there in reinforcement… And that way I could pay you back for letting me stay here.”

Lockwood was far from enthusiastic about the arrangement. y/n saw his jaw tighten as George accepted her offer to tag along.

“I’ll go to Satchell’s to restock.” He got up and aimed for the door. “You and y/n can prep the bags so we can leave when I come back.” He left the table without looking back. There was no room for discussion. It’s like he couldn’t get out fast enough. I guess the feeling is mutual then. But who cared if he couldn’t stand to be in her company either? At least she could repay George by helping him out back. And that way she didn’t have to figure out what her next move should be for another day. She could pretend to be a proper agent one more time and forget about her disgrace.

George immediately filled her in on all the research he had done on the case. Apparently even for a Type One explaining every little detail couldn’t wait until tomorrow. She listened to him ramble on about the history of the house on Hopkins Street and felt at peace for the first time that day. It reminded her of their walks back from a job early in the morning. She paid attention as much as she could until her eyes decided to close on their own.

----

It was getting unbearably cold and the fact that she was restrained to a small iron circle didn’t help her condition. The night had been a disaster so far. It made her regret Fittes, her old teammates, her decision to stay here and help. She wanted to be a true professional and apply her impeccable methods. What could be better than to follow Marissa Fittes’ instructions to the letter? What could possibly be worth denying everything her supervisors had taught her her entire career? Anthony Lockwood’s sheer will apparently justified changing everything.

It had started as soon as they had set foot inside the house. She wanted to be thorough and efficient. She offered that the group went through the house together to look at each room and possibly locate the source before facing any type of ghost. But their leader had decided otherwise and didn’t even bother to listen. He sidelined her immediately.

“You’re here in reinforcement, right? So we’ll come get you if we need a hand.” He had told her before leaving her behind surrounded by an iron chain. It made her furious. Sure, she hadn’t exactly been warm yesterday, or even polite, but still. He could really use her training and her talent. His stubbornness was really stupidity at this point. And what kind of agency didn’t have supervisors?

She was going on and on in her head about everything that was wrong with this situation when George interrupted her train of thoughts as he entered the room.

“We still haven’t found anything, we’re taking a break in the kitchen. Care to join us?”

Of course, Lockwood wouldn’t have bothered to tell her that. Instead, he greeted her with

“That tea is really awful. Who made it?” he said with a wince.

“I did, and at least I was nice enough to bring tea for everyone.” She went to pour herself a cup from a thermos she had packed.

“Well, it was your job.”

“My job was to prep the bags with George, not play housekeeper.” She said coolly without looking up. She turned her back to him so he couldn’t see the look on her face. That tea really was terrible.

“The tea isn’t the only thing that’s bitter tonight.” He said with a smirk.

She turned around to face him.

“Tea isn’t part of a regulation kit.”

“In our agency it kind of is.” He cut in.

“What I’m trying to say is that you could appreciate the intention instead of making your snide comments. Earlier you literally walked through the door shouting orders without helping us even a little and now you keep criticizing me. You can’t spend the evening reprimanding everything I do.”

“I’m in charge and I can when the work isn’t done properly.”

The room fell silent. She wanted to scream at him, hit something, anything. But this was still a haunted house. She needed to keep her emotions under control. No matter how much she wanted to put him in danger specifically, George didn’t deserve this. Ignoring the satisfied look that Lockwood gave her, she turned to George.

“Is he always so difficult to work with? I’m surprised you haven’t lost your sanity.”

“He’s actually tolerable most of the time.”

Lockwood smiled at her with a “I told you so” grin.

“But you obviously have quite an effect on him.” He told her with a wink.

His smile disappeared instantly and it was George’s turn to laugh.

“Instead of having you two brooding in separate corners of the room, maybe we could try and do the job we were hired to do?”

They went for another tour of the house, using all their senses to try to detect any activity. The only result they got was a drop in temperatures which was a start. They settled into the coldest room, figuring the source was probably nearby. They set up a circle in the center and the boys started to search anything that could be the cause of the haunting. As y/n went to pick up a figurine carved in ivory on a shelf an annoying voice interrupted her.

“I need you to stay in the circle while we look for the source.”

“But my Touch is better than yours and George’s combined! Stop being a jerk and let me do my job for the first time this evening.”

“We’ll tell you if we need reinforcement.”

As George was about to protest she raised her voice.

“I’m getting really sick of your behavior. Stop treating me like I’m a beginner. I can handle myself. I worked for the most prestigious team in the most prestigious agency for God’s sake!”

“Well, you’re not anymore. Your behavior hasn’t been much better and until I know that I can trust you I’m not letting you touch anything in this house.”

“Fine. If that’s how it’s gonna be I’ll be better off anywhere else.”

She left the room in a rush. She was putting both of her teammates in danger anyway with how angry she was getting. It was better for everyone if she left.

She went down the stairs in a hurry and slammed the door on her way out. The fresh air outside helped a little. But she would need a two-hour walk at least to calm down. She started to walk down the street as she heard footsteps running behind her.

Lockwood caught up with her and grabbed her arm to make her turn around.

“Where do you think you’re going? You don’t have anywhere to go and we organized the night with you as backup. If we don’t have you standing by you’re putting both of us at risk if something goes wrong.”

“I’m putting you two at risk anyway with how angry I am at you. I thought getting to know you would change the opinion I had of you but I was right from the start you’re just an arrogant jerk.”

“And I was right to think you were just pretentious and helpless that night we met. If it weren’t for me you’d be dead but instead you disrespect me in my own house and act surprised when I don’t trust you on a case.”

So he did remember that night. She tried to hide her surprise.

“Oh right so I’m supposed to be grateful for you ruining a perfect opportunity for my career.”

“You didn’t need me to ruin your career you handled it very well yourself.”

That stung. She turned around before he could see the tears that prickled her eyes and stormed off into the night.

“Nice one Lockwood! And I’m the one with zero social skill.” George said from the doorstep before going back inside, leaving Lockwood alone in the deserted street.

---

“y/n I need you to keep the visitor under control while we look for the source!” Kipps shouted as he ran up the stairs, followed closely by Bobby.

“But wouldn’t it be better if-” She tried to point out that her talent would be most useful if she went to look for the source herself but the boys were already gone. Reluctantly she went back to the living room, using her senses to see if the visitor had come back yet.

She was alone for now. Just her and her frustration to keep her company. After a week of strenuous efforts and late nights, her leader still didn’t seem to warm up to her. Obviously if he kept her aside and gave her tasks that didn’t let her show her full potential he could never be impressed with what she could do. But she kept her head down, it was only the first week, she needed to follow his directions to remain on his good side, or at least his neutral side. And if the visitor showed up she would do her best to fight it, maybe that would show him. She tried listening to reason the best she could, but the truth was that Kipps’s behavior vexed her. She couldn’t help feeling underestimated and a kind of sorrow rose in her. What more could she do to make him notice her? His approval was the only thing she sought at the moment. It consumed her so much that she didn’t realize the visitor had resurfaced. It started creeping up behind her when suddenly she felt a presence as the temperature dropped several degrees.

She ducked at the last minute and narrowly avoided the ghost that flew above her reaching for her neck. The phantasm was now hovering between her and the iron chain, she had no refuge. She drew her rapier unaffected and ready to fight. The ghost tried to attack again, it was aggressive and used her frustration to its advantage. She formed complicated patterns with her sword to keep it away from her. They stayed face to face like this for several minutes with no sign from Bobby nor Kipps. Her arm grew tired of this face to face. It was getting harder and harder to draw the ghost off but her mind stayed focused. Fortunately, it was hard to break her spirit. That was until a cramp painfully twisted the arm that held her rapier. The pain was so sudden that she grabbed her arm and dropped her weapon as a reflex. Probably the worst reflex to have in this situation. As her iron defense touched the floor the visitor attacked. She ducked again, getting closer to the iron chain. As she went to step inside, she tripped and broke the circle. Her rapier was out of reach. She grabbed the chain and tried to fend off the ghost with the chain, not using the flares at her belt that certainly would have caught fire inside. Where were Bobby and Kipps? She could really use a hand right now. As the phantasm got very close to touching her the door flew open.

Finally. In the darkness she only saw a silhouette in a long coat drawing the visitor’s attention away from her. She was thankful but she didn’t recognize who it was. Bobby or Kipps would have been coming from upstairs so she wondered how this stranger could have known when to barge in. Nevertheless, the diversion was enough for her to grab her rapier, ready to fight once more. The living room was lit by the ghost lamp outside. She turned around to see her rescuer fending off the phantasm. He was quick on his feet, the movements of his sword clear and precise. His posture looked elegant even in a fight. He seemed completely at ease and it didn’t look like he needed her help. Once more she felt rather useless. She remained alert but couldn’t do more than watch the scene unfold. It was like the visitor had forgotten she was in the room standing right behind it. As the fight went on the guy in front of her tried tempting it more and more each time he dodged a sudden move from the ghost. She slowly walked around to join him on the other side of the room as the ghost was getting closer each time it tried to reach him. What was he doing? The point wasn’t to tempt the ghosts but to keep them away. It’s like he found it amusing somehow. She felt a burst of energy and a shiver ran down her spine. It was getting particularly angry. She hurried to reach his side telling him to get out of the way. She held her sword high, ready to fight off the new blow she was expecting when instead she was pushed behind. She lost her balance as she was shoved against a sofa sitting in the corner of the room and tripped the reckless idiot in the same movement. He held on to the armrest to quickly stand up and stood between her and the visitor. It was getting close, too close. At the last moment it disappeared. The air warmed up and the tension that filled the room was replaced with relief. Only for a moment though.

“Are you crazy? You could’ve gotten us both killed if my team hadn’t just located the source!” She pushed him away as she stood up from the sit he had pushed her into.

“A good evening to you too. What a lovely night isn’t it?”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge the fact you almost got killed three seconds ago?”

A voice came from the hallway.

“Tony! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

The boy rolled his eyes at her before turning around.

“Shouldn’t you be alone in your big house at this time of night?”

She had never seen Kipps like this before. Sure, he was proud most of the time, but never to that extent.

“You should thank me for saving your teammate from a certain death. I did your reputation a favor here.” He talked about her like she wasn’t standing right next to him. How could someone she met 5 minutes ago irritate her so much?

“I’m sure she could handle herself just fine.”

“I could but he didn’t really give me a chance.” She said, glaring at him. “I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control.”

“A simple thank you would have sufficed. Next time I’ll just enjoy the show from outside then.” He gave her one last look before exiting the room.

He left the same way he had come without looking back. Or at least she thought. Outside he had glanced one more time through the window where he had first seen her battling the phantasm, his lips curving slightly as he made his way back home. 

---

The memories of that night kept coming back to her, fueling her rage as she made her way down Wardour Street. He didn’t let her do her job then and he didn’t let her do her job now. And he was acting like an arrogant prick with a smug look on his face while he was doing it. Her head was heavy with the events of the past two days and she felt overwhelmed. She was angry at the universe for turning her life upside down. She had a plan and she was following it. Why did things have to change so suddenly? She was mad at her instincts for misguiding her and she hated the way she kept overreacting. The further she walked the more anger she realized she had to unpack. She had weeks of frustration from all the efforts she made to gain Kipps’s trust and approval and the ironic twist of fate that undid all that in just one day. She also had the hurt from El’s betrayal that still twisted her stomach. The uneasy feeling that something wasn’t right with Mrs Dufour. The shame of being fired. The unbearable weight of figuring out her future now that she threw away the one that she had designed for herself. She wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet and decided to focus on tonight instead. Who cared if she didn’t have a future, at least she still had a friend in the city that very kindly accepted to take her in. Well, until she left him and his colleague alone in a haunted house that is.

She regretted taking her anger out on Lockwood, though some of it was well deserved. She actually didn’t know how to feel about him. Somehow she was convinced he could have been very nice to work with if she had given him a chance from the start. On the other hand, she still wasn’t over how he literally kept her from doing her job all those weeks back. And the fact he behaved the exact same way tonight certainly didn’t help. Still, she hoped they were safe even with her gone.

The stroll did help a lot. She had been gone for half an hour but the fog in her mind already started to lift. She still needed some alone time but she really should apologize for her behavior later. The guys wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours anyway. No need to rush. She could always apologize tomorrow. And she would owe them one less night at their place.

She made her way to the border of the Thames, passing Scotland Yard on her way. It was one of the only buildings with light coming from the windows. She followed the river south, taking deep breaths to try and ease her mind. A gentle breeze rustled her hair and she finally allowed herself to relax for the first time today. The water made her feel safer and the quiet streets made her appreciate the city even more. It was a shame she couldn’t do this more often without taking risks. She could have stayed there for hours but as she leaned on a banister she noticed a boat getting weirdly close to her. It kept coming her way until a girl with a straw hat on came into view. She pointed to somewhere behind her mouthing something. Was it directed at her? She frowned mouthing “what?” back to the girl. She insisted. ‘Watch out.’, she finally understood. She turned around to see men gather and she ducked on instinct. The only people out at this time of night couldn’t be good news.

Curled up behind a brick wall, she slowly craned her neck to try and see what this was all about. There were three men standing a few feet away from her. They were partially hidden by a tree. She moved slightly to her right to have a better view. Relic men. It was very clear that this meant trouble and she needed to get out of there. She turned around, hidden behind the wall to thank the girl on the boat but she was already out of sight.

The easiest way for her to get out of there unseen was to go back the same way she came, practically on her knees the whole time to remain covered. She made slow progress but she would soon be able to reach Scotland yard and from there she could keep walking the other way. She didn’t really care where she was going as long as she was out of danger. She was reaching the last few feet when she heard a familiar voice that made her blood run cold.

“Good evening gentlemen.”

George was right. She was right. Mrs. Dufour was standing there, casually chatting with relic men. Her dismissal seemed even more unfair now. She wasn’t in such a hurry now. She could finally get her answers and get to the bottom of this.

“Did you bring it?” one of the men asked though it sounded more like an order.

“Of course I did. Here, I’m sure you’ll get a good price for it but I want 25%, no less.”

The man closest to her laughed as he dismissed her with a hand.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s an original from Mrs. Overton’s ancestors. A piece from a prominent family like hers has got to be worth a lot more than the other pieces I brought you. And I’m putting my job on the line for this. 25 or I’ll find someone else.”

Did she really say Mrs. Overton? She was selling the clock she was supposed to bring back in a few days? y/n couldn’t believe it. How was she going to justify the missing piece to their client?

The shock made it hard to breath. She had flashbacks from the day before when she heard voices outside Mrs. Dufour’s office. She tried to step away slowly and discreetly but the friction of her feet on the ground made a sudden noise that made the group look in her direction. She stayed ducked but she heard one of the men get closer to investigate. She only had one option if she wanted to get out of here unharmed. She stood up and immediately started running. She could hear one of the men yelling to go after her from afar but she didn’t turn back to check. She hoped the supervisor didn’t recognize her but now was not the time to worry about this detail. She had more chance losing them if she got lost in the streets instead of following the river. She made a turn on her left, hoping they would lose sight of her. Instead she felt a sharp pain in her left arm. How could she get a cramp in this part of her body while running? Without slowing down she passed a hand up and down her arm to ease the pain. Instead of finding the soft fabric of her jacket her fingers met something wet. She looked down at her bloodied fingers trying to keep up her pace. Not only were these men chasing her but they were throwing knives at her. Letting them catch her wasn’t an option from the start but even less so now. She tried to ignore the sharp ache and kept running until she found a hiding spot in a deserted alleyway. She used the trashcans and piles of cardboard boxes to avoid her pursuers. They ran past her without looking back. She waited a few minutes trying to calm her breathing down.

The street was silent again, she couldn’t hear any voices or steps coming her way. She peered out from her hiding spot and only saw the ghost lamp at the end of the street. She came out and sighed in relief. Her mind had gone completely numb but as she stepped out of the alley she became painfully aware of the situation. Panic started to rise inside her. She wanted to curl up in the middle of the street as her breathing accelerated. Somehow she still wasn’t getting enough air. Her lungs hurt, the world started spinning around her. The wound in her arm was burning, she felt blood running down her arm. All her senses were blinded by the pain and the stress, she couldn’t think straight. Behind her she heard something crack. A leaf, a branch maybe or just a rat passing by. But that was enough to send her running as fast as she could. Her instinct was the only thing guiding her at this point. She needed to get help, to find people she could trust. She needed to go somewhere safe.

---

All the lights were out inside the house. They probably hadn’t gone home yet. The case could have turned more complicated than anticipated. But she didn’t feel like waiting for them in the street with blood trickling down her arm. She felt dizzy and lightheaded, her throat was sore from the cold autumn breeze and her wound wasn’t getting any better. She climbed the few steps in front of the door, her right hand in front of her in case she tripped. As she got to  the door, she kneeled and retrieved her hooks from the sock where she always kept them. Her dad had always told her this skill would come in handy. At the time she didn’t believe him but still let her teach her. It was a fun father-daughter activity after all. But right now, with the pain she was in, she truly blessed him for having weird hobbies.

In three clicks she unlocked the door and stepped inside without worrying about the noise she made. Her head was heavy and relief flooded her as soon as she closed the door behind her. It didn’t matter that her day had ended up worse than the day before. It didn’t matter that this seemed unconceivable yesterday. The fight, Dufour, the chase, all of it was behind her now. She was safe. As she stepped deeper into the house the walls started spinning. The masks on the wall looked like they were mocking her. She felt the urge to dismiss them with the back of her hand. A sharp pain shot through her arm as she lifted it. She cried out and didn’t notice Lockwood coming down the stairs.

“y/n? What are you doing?”

She hadn’t heard him coming and jumped in surprise, prompting another sharp pain in her left arm.

“y/n? What’s wrong? Wait how did you get in?”

At that she smiled faintly. But her head was spinning too much. Her knees buckled. She saw movement in front of her as the floor got closer before she collapsed in the hall.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Parabellum 🪙 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine/John Wick AU

Set in an alternate universe where Top Gun is actually part of an underground assassins bureau in NYC

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Parings: Dagger Squad x Wick!reader (platonic/work relationship), John Wick x adoptive cousin!reader (platonic), The Bowery King (platonic), The Adjudicator (platonic) Zero + students (platonic)

Content Warnings: angst, profanity, banter, blood, violence, graphic depiction of injury, mentions of death and murder. AU set in the JW universe where Top Gun is a tactical assassination squad for The High Table. Set during JW: Chapter 3–Parabellum, but everyone is the age they were in TGM (so the year 2013 since all the movies are set within days of each other despite released years apart) | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 8k

Premise: There are two rules everyone who works for the Table must follow: 1. No business on company grounds, 2. All Markers must be fulfilled. For John Wick, there are several debts he is owed as he battles against the whole world after breaking rule number one. And two of them fall under rule number two. John’s in for quite the treat when he heads to the Top Gun hangar to cash on of his debts from none other than his cousin, who happens to be the leader Top Gun’s infamous tactical assassin squad.

Note: Y’all I am so hype for John Wick Chapter 4. JW is one of my fav franchises and Keanu Reeves is my baby daddy 🥵 Maybe once Chapter 4 comes out I’ll do a part two to this since I have no idea what’s gonna happen to John and also if you’ve seen John Wick 3, do y’all think Winston is part of the BK’s plan or did he really betray John for his own selfish needs? like the Parent Trap imagine I did, I basically rewatched all the JW movies cause there was a marathon and got inspired. I really need to focus on my school work though cause I didn’t do so hot on my first writing assignment (it was research methods and my professor didn’t have the instructions very clear 😭) but I had to get this done and out first before taking a small few days of break to do my homework. — Bee 🐝

I do not own any of the characters from TGM or JW, this is for fictional purposes and entertainment. Read over CW before reading and reblogs , likes, and comments are welcomed but please do not steal or repost onto other platforms.

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The phone was on the edge of breaking by how hard she was gripping it, cursing and flinching each time Halo strung a thread through her skin to seal the gaping wound that nearly sliced her face off. She couldn’t see out of her left eye and her lips were split in diagonal from the direction of the blade. Never had she experienced being cut by a katana in all her years of service….but there was always a first for everything.

“What do you want?” She winced again, glaring at the wall with hatred. While the Bowery King, who was experiencing his own hell with seven cuts to him, relayed to her the most recent update of their mutual ‘friend’, Y/n ‘Domino’ Wick thought back to the past last week. As much as she wanted to avoid it, she knew what was coming the second the message appeared on her phone: ‘John Wick—Excommunicado in effect in 1 hour. All services closed. Open Contract set at $14m.’

Seven Days Earlier….

The message was just sent out, everyone in the hangar appearing confused when the cell phones beeped at the same time causing them all to withdraw theirs from their pocket. Upon reading the words, multiple eyes turned to the woman seated at her desk. An opened bottle of whiskey was beside her, a stack of papers to be sorted through in a basket. She appeared emotionless as she read the message once before sliding the phone back in its place and storing it away.

“What’s up with Domino?” Omaha looked at Fanboy and Coyote when the woman rose from her chair before kicking it across the room and disappearing.

Fanboy shook his head, sighing in apparent distress, “You’ve heard of John Wick?” Of course he wasn’t talking about the fact his name was on the message they all got, he meant if Omaha knew who he was.”

“Only from stories. Ain’t he like the best there is.”

“The best and even more,” Coyote commented, already checking to make sure his gun was armed. “Man’s a beast. People call him the Boogeyman—or Baba Yaga to be more exact.”

“Anway,” Fanboy brought the attention back to him, noticing Domino called over Fritz, Rooster, Payback, and Hangman. They all were deep in discussion. “Domino and John were both orphans in Belarus, growing up together at the Ruska Roma.” Knowing what the Ruska Roma was combined with the fact Domino and John knew each other, Omaha made a face of shock. “They’re kinda like cousins—not sure if they are blood related, adoptive, or just grew close enough that they see each other as such. She doesn’t say a lot about her past, but before she became Domino her name was Y/n Wick. Now that Mav and Cyclone retired she’s been in service longer than any of us.”

“Just don’t ask questions, alright,” Coyote warned with a glance, “I know you’re new to the whole thing but keep quiet and you’ll live longer.”

If only Omaha had asked what John Wick looked like. Would’ve saved him a broken arm had he done so because when the poor guy went to do his surveillance, he was shocked to find a bloody man in their parking lot who immediately got in a tousle with when Omaha charged him.

The private hangar was located just a few miles from downtown at a very small private airstrip surrounded by a chain link electric fence, far enough and secluded that nobody in their right mind—unless of course, they were in need of service—migrated to. And unfortunately for Omaha he’d never seen John Wick before…so how was he supposed to know the intruder was the infamous assassin.

The two were going at it for a good three minutes until it ended with Omaha’s arm breaking and John’s belt around his neck. His air was constricted, the man fighting back against the hold in hopes of freeing himself. Before John could do the final twist to end Omaha for good, the sound of a gunshot followed by a speeding bullet against his face had John tripping back, releasing Omaha who took gasps of breath.

“That’s enough you two,” a stern voice said, multiple footsteps approaching. Looking up, John's eyes landed on his cousin flanked by members of her Dagger Squad on either side of her, guns trained on him as a warning for John to not make a sudden move. “We don't want things to get messy now do we?”

It had been years since the cousins had seen each other, well before John retired to marry Helen. They were roughly ten years apart in age, making Y/n around 40 now that John just turned 50. He was her mentor and protector during their time in the Ruska Roma, having been brought to the U.S from Belarus when John was 11 and Y/n was barely a year old. It’s unsure if they were even related but considering John looked after her like a family member people just assumed they were. Then when she got older she ditched her birth name and started going by Y/n Wick.

When John had heard several years before he retired that Y/n became a member of the Top Gun tactical execution squad, part of him felt he had failed her. Of course it was likely for her to join the underground world they were pretty much forced into by being a part of the Ruska Roma, but he hoped she’d not dive too deep. She was only 22 when she joined, becoming one of the best associates in the organization. Then just before he retired she was promoted to second in command, now four years later she was the leader after her predecessors decided to step down.

Looking at her now before him, he could tell Y/n had become the hardened contract killer she was destined to be. Reputation nearly rivaling that of his own. As a member of the Top Gun Tactical Dagger Squad Y/n earned the callsign ‘Domino,’ learning how to fly a plane due to the fact Top Gun provided services to associates by transporting them to and from locations. As highly skilled assassins the team are often hired by mobs, including the High Table when they don’t feel like sending their personal squads, to take out private contracts. Sometimes Y/n was directly offered contracts especially by those who wanted to keep their dirty work as hidden as possible.

Taking in the current Dagger Squad, John recognized most of them: Rooster, Payback, Fritz, Hangman, Coyote, Yale and Phoenix. When they last saw each other eight years before they’d all been recent recruits. Now they were molded killers. The other bunch were new faces—including the one he just broke the arm of. They had to have joined within the last several years. All wearing flight suits with their patches on the left breast, John read: Harvard, Bob, Fanboy, Halo, and lastly Omaha.

“You good, Omaha?” Y/n asked, not taking her gaze off of John. The man moaned in response.

“I think my arm is broken, boss.”

“Halo, Bob,” she simply said, the woman next to her and the man on the end dropping their guns to move over to the fallen man. When Halo walked off, Rooster took a step to the right so he was now directly next to Domino. On the opposite side to her left was Payback.

The two haul Omaha off, disappearing into the hangar. “Well,” Y/n puts her hands on her hips. “You sure know how to make an entrance. Hello, John.”

“Hello, Y/n.” She glared at the name, but made no move to correct it.

“Did you really have to break my guy’s arm?”

John gave a light shrug, putting his hand to his injured shoulder that was bleeding from a stab wound. “He came after me.”

Y/n gave an unhumorous laugh, shaking her head, “John, you got a fourteen million dollar bounty on your head. Can’t really blame him for trying—If I didn’t have a sense of why you’re here I’d give my crew the word and let them light you up before finishing you off myself.” It was harsh coming from a family member, but John couldn’t blame her. They’d been estranged for years now with their last encounters anything but friendly.

What John didn’t know though was Omaha had no idea what he looked like. Y/n was just trying to get under his skin.

“Go ahead and pull it out,” she challenged, eyes narrowing at the man. The squad kept their weapons raised, but relaxed their stance at her order.

Slowly John reaches into his jacket pocket, removing one of two Markers, making sure it was the right one before presenting it to the group. He saw the woman immediately stiffen, face tightening as the anger never left her eyes. In fact it looked like it increased by the sight of the object.

A debt she had to pay.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve coming here, John. Some. Fucking. Nerve.”

“Y/n—.”

She cuts him off with a harsh tone, “You’re excommunicado, John. Services are now closed to you. As of five minutes ago that marker is void.” That last statement was actually on the fence.

There were two big rules in their world: 1. No business on company grounds. 2. All Markers must be fulfilled.

Given John broke rule #1 he was labeled excommunicado with the original contract of $7m by Santino D’Antonio doubled to $14m. Any and all services were now closed to him, even as simple as receiving medical treatment by a company doctor.

But what of the Markers?

John had two. One from Y/n and one from Sofia Al-Azwar, both given to John at different times, both where John had to transport and hide their children. In Y/n’s case she had gotten pregnant just shortly after leaving the Ruska Roma and was on her way to becoming a contract killer. She was barely 19 and in no way able to raise a child. So she called John and swore the blood oath to him that she would return the favor no matter the price or cost when the time came. Over 20 years later she still didn’t know what happened to her son. Sofia had originally come to Y/n to help her out when she needed to get her daughter away, but Y/n assured her John was better for the job, confessing he had done the same for her.

Would the Markers still have to be completed although he was banished and being hunted by the High Table? The same ones who order hits on those who don’t fulfill the Markers when presented by the person they owe? It was a tough situation.

It was Domino’s current situation.

John pleaded to her, opening the object to reveal her bloody fingerprint, “This is your blood. Your bond. When you needed help, Y/n, I was there. Now I need your help. You owe it to me, please.”

Y/n inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling, “Top Gun works for the Table, John. We have been in service to them for decades. They will come for us—for me, for helping you.” In the corner of her eye she saw some of the crew stiffen, hands gripping their weapons tighter at the fear of facing the Table.

John gave her a look, “They will come for you if you don’t.” That had her nearly falter, seeing a look of angst overtake her.

“Some family you are, John. Bringing death to my door. Risking the lives of my team!” She couldn’t help but shout, no longer holding back her anger. All she could think about was the fact the Table likely already knew he was there. They had spies all over the city. Once he leaves they’ll be sending someone even if she didn’t help him. “What the fuck do you want anyway? What’s the favor you so desperately need after all these years that’s made you put me and my crew in danger.”

“My ticket,” he simply tells her, watching her face become ashen. “I know you still have it. I need it now, Y/n. That’s all I ask for.”

A long time ago John gave Y/n his ticket every orphan of the Ruska Roma receives upon ‘graduation’. A symbol of the favor the organization owes them after spending years under them. Y/n had cashed in on hers a long time ago, but John had her keep his safe. Believing he’d never have to use it.

It was kinda ironic when she started thinking about it.

“You could’ve had it all you know,” she dryly laughs, gazing hard at the man she saw as a cousin. “You got out—away from this. Tell me, Jordani, was it worth it?” She waits for a reply but it doesn’t come. Of course it wouldn’t. She could see it in his eyes it wasn’t. “What were you hoping to gain by hunting down the Tarasov punk? You should’ve fucking known it wouldn’t have ended once you finished the job. You opened the damn door, John. You gave Santino everything he needed to check in on his favor that you owed him. It honestly baffles me that you, John Wick, thought it was a good idea to give that man a marker. You’re reasoning? I'll never know.”

She has to pause to cool down a bit before continuing, “You could’ve asked anybody else to help you that night—you could’ve asked me, John. You had the marker all this time. Why the fuck didn’t you use it then?” She raises a hand as a signal for him to keep quiet all while ordering the squad to stand down. “Don’t answer that. I honestly don’t wanna know. It’s your fucking karma at the end of the day.” Again she gives a dry laugh, “I just find it hilarious honestly. The reason you’re in this shit show to begin with is because you owed Santino—which would’ve never happened if you didn’t let your impulses take over and go after Iosef Tarasov. You let some punk ass kid bring you back. A domino effect at its finest,” she has to laugh at her own joke, but nothing about it was funny. “Now here you are, cashing in on all the favors you’re owed. Me….The Director…I take it Sofia is next on your list?”

No answer. Y/n tightens her lips, nodding slowly, “I thought so. She’s over across the sea. You think she’s gonna just let you waltz in, John?” Y/n smirks, “but first you gotta survive getting out of New York. And unlike the other night when it was just the city after your ass, you got the whole world wanting a piece of you now. Fourteen million dollars,” she hums, tilting her head like she’s deep in thought. “Saying it out loud…it’s tempting.”

“Fifteen,” Fanboy says, making all eyes turn to him. “The contract just went up.” Y/n nods, turning back to John with a shrug.

“You hear that, John? I wonder who’s responsible for adding the bonus.”

“You’re not gonna kill me, Y/n,” he says unfazed, making her narrow her eyes a tad.

“And what makes you so confident I won't? Pretty bold of you to assume when you got ten guns on you.”

John tells her like it is, “Because you would’ve already done it by now.” He got her there. She would’ve given the signal the moment they surrounded him if she truly wanted him dead. And as much as Y/n was pissed off with John, he was the last person she had who she considered family. And she was indebted to him.

Hating the fact he was right, Y/n just nods, “Fair enough, John.”

“Look,” he holds up the Marker, “you do this for me and we’re done. You and I are even and the Table can’t fault you for following their rules.” His reasoning makes her scoff.

“You don’t really know if that’s true, John. But thanks for trying to lighten the situation,” she was being sarcastic, having had enough of the ordeal. “I’ll be sure to tell whoever they send exactly what you said. Maybe I'll live to see the next day.” They just stare at each other, letting the reality set in.

“Fritz,” the man beside Payback responds with a look at her, “bring me the blue book with gold trimming in the safe. The one on the top shelf—you know the one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he holsters his gun and walks toward the hangar.

“Coyote, go get the keys for the Ducati Diavel,” when he goes Y/n then calls to the woman beside Rooster, “and Phoenix, grab me a 9mm from one of the units.”

“On it.”

“Fanboy, and Harvard,” the two snap to attention awaiting orders, “Go check on Halo and Bob, see if they need help dealing with Omaha and call the Continental doctor if need be.” She sees John falter at the mention of the doctor, remembering he was just there and had to shoot him in a non-fatal area on the docs insistent to cover for the face he helped John. “Actually scratch that…take him to the urgent care that’s off the road past the gate. Tell them Domino sent you.”

“Yes ma’am,” they both say and head out, leaving Payback, Yale, Hangman and Rooster on either side of Y/n, the woman standing in the middle between the four.

“What are you doing?” John asks.

“Paying my debt,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Ensuring the bargain has been fulfilled. You may have given me the impression all you want is your ticket, but I know you were hoping for something a little more. Consider it done.”

John shakes his head with a frown, “I wasn’t gonna—.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” she tightens her lips. “Sure you weren’t. How the hell else are you gonna get to The Director from all the way out here with nothing but a belt to defend you, John? I’m surprised you even managed to make it here within the hour.” Holding out her hand, Phoenix places the 9mm in the open palm. At that moment Coyote pulls up the motorcycle, keeping the keys in the ignition when he puts it on its stand. Then Fritz arrives with the book, handing it over to Y/n’s other open palm.

Approaching John, Y/n extends both hands to pass the gun and book to him. He holsters the gun first then opens the book to remove the fake page revealing the compartment with his ticket, aka the rosary, and a wad of gold coins. He pockets both the rosary and coins, before handing back the book and Y/n holds it out for Fritz to take back.

“You’re going to war, John,” she watches him open the Marker, pricking his thumb on the needle before placing his bloody fingerprint onto the open space beside her own. “With the whole damn world. Even if you make it to where you’re going…it won't end there. This is only the beginning.”

“I know,” he sighs, handing her the now complete Marker. “Consequences.” She gives a tight smile, fingers encasing around the object.

“Consequences. You should’ve thought about those before blowing a hole into Santino’s head. Would’ve saved you all the trouble.” He doesn’t react with the exception of a curt nod, knowing she was right. But he made his bed, now he has to lie in it. “Goodbye, John.”

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

They all watch as he mounts the bike and takes off into the darkness, becoming smaller with each minute until finally he’s out of their sights. Finally Y/n lets out the breath she had been holding, angry tears stinging her eyes that she refuses to let the team see. They’d never seen her scared before, she wasn’t gonna let them see now. Even though they had every right to be just as scared.

Gathering herself, she cranks her neck to the sky and closes her eyes for a brief moment before turning back to the remaining Squad members, the one who were coming up on ten years whereas all the others she sent away were only a couple years in. “Prepare the bunker,” she watched all their eyes widen, glancing at each other hesitantly.

“Are you sure, Dom?” Rooster questions, looking a bit unease. They hadn’t used the bunker in so long, it was gonna take time to prepare it. Not even the Table knew about it. Top Gun predecessors from when the underground crime world started built it for caution in case they were to have troubles with the Table. It was basically a whole level floor underneath the hangar equipped with everything they needed from food, water, bedding, clothing, and of course weapons and arsenal. They could survive weeks underground and no one would know. They had security surrounding the premises that they could access from below ground.

Domino was confident the Table had already been tipped off by an associate. They were gonna have to act quick.

“Very,” she walked a few steps, stopping so she was directly in front of the group. “Expect us to have company when the sun rises—maybe in a few days if we’re lucky. I’ll deal with the Table,” she assures, looking them each in the eyes. “When that happens I need you all to be in the bunker where you’re safe. And you will not come out until they have left the premises—regardless of what happens to me.” Immediately there were sounds of protest.

“Dom, that’s suicide,” Rooster states the obvious. Phoenix pitches in, “You’re not serious, boss.”

“There’s no way in hell we’re leaving you alone with them,” Hangman voices, going as far as taking a step closer to the woman. Fritz and Yale back him up while Payback comments, “You don’t even know if they’re coming.”

“I didn't ask for your input. From any of you,” she shuts them up. Rubbing a hand over her face, Y/n gives a tired sigh. “You don’t think I don’t know what they’re capable of? I have been in this life longer than any of you—I’ve seen everything you can imagine when it comes to the business we’re in. Or at least I thought until John Wick decided to cause hell two weeks ago,” she mutters the last part under breath. No one could’ve predicted that when John exterminated the Tarasov crime family that he’d be the Table’s #1 target. Where the rules were no longer black and white.

“My point is,” she calms down the raging thoughts in her head. “I’m the one who helped him. They are gonna come after me, but that doesn’t mean you all have to be in the crossfire. If they see you here, even if you’re not doing anything, they’ll kill you,” her tone turns harsher, to get it through their heads the seriousness of it. “I don’t want any of you going against the Table, not when I’m gonna need you all if I survive the meeting.”

“What do you think is gonna happen?” Yale is the one to ask the question.

“I don’t know,” she speaks truthfully. “But if John is going where I think he is…then tonight was just the beginning.”

Seven Days Later….

She honestly expected them earlier. Rumors spread in the days after John’s excommunication. An Adjudicator of the Table visiting those who assisted him. At the Ruska Roma, the Director had her hands sliced through with her entourage slaughtered just the day after John cashed in his ticket. Then the Bowery King was set to pay a price for refusing to step down after a warning of seven days to get his affairs in order. Many of his men dead within minutes. That morning he received seven cuts for the seven bullets he gave John the night he executed Santino, and was left for dead. Was he alive? Y/n wasn’t even sure. All she knew was Winston had until nightfall to step down from the Continental before they paid him a visit.

Right now though, in the early evening of the seventh day, Y/n sat in her chair in the middle of the hangar. Around her were Zero’s students, the man himself closest to her while the Adjudicator stood before her. Unbeknownst to the group the team of assassins they expected to have seen were down below watching the scene unfold through the monitors mounted on the concrete wall. They’d been underground for the whole week, Y/n not risking them being out in the open when she knew the Table would arrive at some point.

After the first day she was confident it was to spook her. Especially after discovering the Director was punished for her role in transporting John across the Atlantic. Yes, they were trying to scare her alright. They damn well knew she aided John Wick. They were just waiting for the right time to make their presence known.

“Where is the Dagger Squad, Domino?” The Adjudicator paced in front of her, eyes drifting over the empty hangar. It was too quiet for her liking.

“On a mission.”

“There were no recent contracts from my knowledge for your department. When did this happen?” She pressed, turning to the assassin. Y/n could tell she was examining her body language, hoping to catch her in a lie.

“A private one came in this morning. I sent them off just before you arrived.”

“From?”

“The Triads,” she answered confidently.

“Where to?”

“Out west. They requested the location to be confidential. You understand, right?”

The Adjudicator nodded slowly, not really sure if she believed the woman, but kept her gaze focused. Two planes were moved to make it look like they were gone. Domino hoped they would take the bait.

“I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

“I have my suspicions,” Y/n replied, remaining calm and unthreatening. “It wasn’t hard to guess after whispers coming in from the city.” It was obvious she was referring to the Bowery King and Director.

“And do you have anything to say for yourself about why you broke the rules and aided John Wick in his escape from New York? I am well aware of your personal history with him.”

Y/n willed herself not to react to the last comment, focusing on the question. “I owed him a debt. Which you already know—it’s why you’re here. Maybe you can tell everyone at HQ to add more details on the fine print of what to do when the bearer of your Marker breaks the rules. As far as I’m concerned,” she dares to shrug, “I followed them.”

“So you have a point,” the tattooed woman gives a tight expression, not liking her attitude. “You may have upheld the rule of the Table but that doesn’t mean you didn't do more than what you had to. Especially due to the personal connection involved. John Wick was seen coming to this location on foot and leaving twenty minutes later on a motorcycle.”

Y/n tilts her head, now looking bored. “What are you getting at? That’s part of what he wanted.”

“Tell me what all he wanted, Domino, in order for the debt to be paid.”

Y/n kept eye contact, the two almost in a staring contest with neither wanting to blink as she listed off what all she provided. “The book containing his ticket, coins, and a 9mm that he had me store ages ago for ‘emergencies,’ and a mode of transportation.”

“You didn’t offer one of your pilots to escort him to Morocco?”

“He didn’t indicate Morocco was where he wanted to go,” she fired back. Now she was playing dumb. Of course she knew he was heading there since Sofia was now the manager of the Moroccan Continental. “He just wanted those things and then said he’d be on his way. And because I didn’t know if the Marker was invalid given his status, I delivered with his request. Fulfilling the Marker because that is your rule.”

The Adjudicator takes a moment to think before placing her hands behind her back. “I may not have proof you acted against the Table, Domino, but rest assured we will find out if you did. Until then, I will leave you with a warning of what is to come when that happens.”

Y/n’s heart kicks in pace, stiffening when Zero comes to stand in front of her. Before she could react a searing pain erupted in her face, head snapping to the side by the force causing the woman to fall from her chair. “GAHHH!!” She audibly reacted as she landed on the ground, hands going straight to her face only to be drenched in the blood pouring from the gaping cut. She couldn’t even open her left eye, her right one watery causing her vision to be blurry. Looking up she saw Zero wiping his katana with his sleeve.

He fucking sliced her face.

The iron taste in her mouth was due to the fact her lips were split. It was a diagonal direction of the blade against skin, going from the edge of her right jaw all the way to her left temple—completely cutting her lips and slicing her eye. Speaking of her eye it was on fire, figuratively speaking. Glancing around she silently thanked the fact her eyeball wasn’t staring back at her meaning it was still in its socket. But judging from the pain and the fact when she tried to open it she was met with darkness indicated the eye was long gone.

Underground, members of the Dagger Squad had to refrain from getting into the elevator and rush in guns blazing. They were given orders, and if the Adjudicator did not report back to the Table they would know something happened and send their full force against them.

“She’s alive,” Rooster said in relief when Y/n moved, them all watching her hands go to her face. Phoenix changed the camera to a different angle and they saw the full extent of her injury. Everyone grimaced, some cursing at the sight of Domino’s bloodied face. It was literally sliced at an angle.

“Fuck,” Fanboy muttered, Halo already moving to gather medical supplies.

“She said to wait until they were gone,” Payback reminded them when a few started to move to the elevator. The Adjudicator, Zero, and his students had just left the hangar, but had yet to be fully off the premises. On the monitor it showed Y/n stumbling as she tried to locate the closet with towels and supplies. Blood trailed after her, leaving a line in its wake. It wasn’t until the cars passed the gate and were well off into the city that the squad rushed to the elevator.

“Domino!” Y/n heard someone shout, mind a bit hazy from the blood loss and beginning to feel numb.

“I got you, boss,” Fritz picked her up bridal style and rushed her to the makeshift medical room with Halo and Bob running behind him. Placing her on the bed they got to work. Halo started an IV while Bob did his best to apply pressure on the wound.

“She’s gonna need blood,” Bob said, cursing by the amount she was losing. “Who here shares her blood type?”

“Hangman, Phoenix, and Coyote,” Halo lists off, grabbing the syringe with a light sedative to help Y/n with the pain.

“We’re gonna need all three then. Fritz, can you—.”

“Already on it,” he doesn’t let him finish the sentence, yelling out their names who all appear within seconds. With Harvard the two begin setting up to remove a pint of blood from each.

“You with us, Dom?” Halo takes a light to shine in each of her eyes, apologizing when Y/n moans when her left eye is touched.

“As best as I can be. Just do what you have to do. If I die, I die.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Bob tells her. “You’re gonna be fine, Dom.”

For a good couple hours they were working on repairing the wound. Y/n was a little dozy from the drugs, but managed to stay away during the whole thing. When it came time for the stitches, Halo was about halfway done when Rooster came in with Y/n’s phone. “It’s the Bowery King.”

“Help me up please,” she motioned for them to help her sit up, Halo careful with the sting and needle in her hands. Bob and Fritz pulled to an upright position before she asked for the phone. Rooster handed it over, moving to stand with Phoenix and Payback against the wall. Taking a moment to catch her breath, Y/n placed the phone to ear. “What do you want?”

She received a chuckle, “You sound as bad as I feel.”

“Just fucking get to it. I can’t move my mouth without wanting to scream so let me hear what you have to say and let us be done with it.”

“Have you heard the latest on Mr Wick?”

“He’s the reason Berreda lost his balls.” She received another chuckle.

“Well our friend is stateside again. Lucky bastard cut a deal with the one who sits above the Table.”

Y/n stilled, blood running cold. “He found the Elder.” Those in the room who knew what she spoke of shared the same reaction.

“He did,” the King muses. “And the deal for him to remain breathing is to be forever bound to the Table. The first on his list of bidding is Winston.”

Y/n had to pull the phone away for a moment, in disbelief at the news. She almost wanted to laugh at how things seemed to turn out for John. “He’ll never do it. Winston knows how to manipulate him to get what he wants. I wouldn’t put it past the old man to betray him in the end.”

“I’m happy you and I are on the same page. I was thinking the same exact thing—which is why when the time comes, I’ll be there to pick John up.”

Right as he finishes his sentence all the phones beep, those in the room removing theirs to see the text. Domino looked at her own phone, shaking her head when she read: “The New York Continental status has been changed to Deconsecrated. In effect in thirty minutes.”

“Would you look at that,” the Kind hummed. “Just what I expected. I give it til dawn before they get tired.”

Y/n was starting to get annoyed, wanting him to cut to the chase. “So why are you calling me now?”

“Because I want us to be a step ahead of them, Domino.”

Y/n takes a moment before saying, “I’m listening.”

“I’ve been doing some thinking over the past week—and after this morning these cuts have sealed the deal,” he laughed at his own irony. “All this High Table bullshit….under the Table is where shit gets done and you know it. All of us are pawns in their game. I say it’s time we dethrone them once and for all.”

Y/n straightens her posture, processing what the King was implying. “You’re asking for war.” She noticed her team visibly reacting to the statement. “You’re wanting to go to war with the Table.”

“Quite so.”

“And you want me and my team to help you.” There was no need to say it like a question.

“Just think about it,” he tells her. “Wait the night out or wait for my call. We’ll discuss more then.” Before she could reply the constant beep filled her ears signaling he had hung up. Sliding the phone in place, Y/n stared ahead, this time not even flinching as Halo worked on her.

It was quiet for the remainder of the hour, the beeping of phones signifying the deconsecration of the Continental was in effect. When Halo cut the last bit of thread on Y/n, the woman downed the painkillers and gulped the water bottle in seconds.

“You’re all dismissed. Stay close to the hangar—I don’t trust that they’re not lurking by the gates.” When they all left she changed into a fully black outfit, ending with a leather trench coat. Then she shuffled through one of the cabinets to find an eyepatch, which was a fucking sight when she put it on.

“I look like that dude from those comics Fanboy reads,” she announced when she walked into the area everyone was in, many of them stopping what they were doing. Phoenix, Bob, and Payback were cleaning the blood off the floors while Hangman and Fritz watched the monitors. Halo was checking over Omaha. Yale, Harvard, and Coyote were going through inventory and finally Rooster and Fanboy had finished up calls with potential clients. All eyes turned to Domino, Fanboy having to hold back his comment of saying, “Nick Fury,” though he did have a small smile on his face.

“How you feeling, boss?” Payback questioned, taking a seat on a chair after discarding the bloody water from when he mopped the floors. His answer was a groan, followed by her saying, “Like I should’ve let y’all shoot John Wick and spare me from becoming a raggedy Ann doll.”

Falling into a chair, Y/n thanked the glass of whiskey from Fritz and accepted a cigarette, leaning forward to light it when he offered the lighter flame. Checking the time on the wall, it was approaching midnight. God did she blackout or something? Where the hell did the time go? By now the Continental was likely a graveyard.

“I’m sorry about this week guys,” she said softly, letting the smoke leave her lips, wincing from the sting as the stitches keeping them together served as a reminder of what happened. “I should’ve told you all about the Marker ages ago.”

“It wasn’t our business, Dom,” Hangman pulls up a stool, setting himself on it once it appeared the coast was clear. “Those things are between those involved.”

“Yeah,” Coyote pitched in. “None of us blame you. We probably would’ve done the same. We just hate that you were punished for upholding the deal.”

“It’s not completing the Marker they were upset about,” she taps the cigarette against the ashtray. “Had I not, it would’ve given them the excuse to kill me even though there is no official rule about Markers and those who bear one that are excommunicated. It was the fact they know I did more than what was needed. I could’ve just given John the ticket and sent him off, but instead I willingly armed him with the means to have better odds. That’s why they’re pissed.”

“But they have no proof,” Harvard said from the side. “How would they know you did?”

“They know our history,” she simply sighed. “That’s enough for them to have suspicion. Whether the Adjudicator did it on her own accords or the Table ordered her to give me a good warning that they’re onto me…what’s done is done.” She finished her cigarette, “Now we figure out how to keep them off our backs.”

Several of the daggers looked at each other, wondering how to ask the question they all wanted to know since her phone call. Rooster is the one to speak up, “What about the Bowery King?”

“What about him, Rooster?”

“He’s wanting war with the High Table,” he crosses his arms, ignoring the looks from those who were not present when Domino was on the phone. They appeared surprised, and a little uneasy.

“He’s out of his damn mind,” she told him harshly, trying to not show she was tempted at stepping down from her position to join the mission. Hatred at the Table was rising in her, the King making a fair point at how everything gets done under the Table but they get to reek the benefits of what they do.

Y/n wanted to fight back, she really did. But she wasn’t gonna take her team down with her. They still had lives and going against the Table would not be easy. If she were to take the Bowery King up on his offer she would do it alone and spare them all.

“You know he’s right,” Halo pitches in, surprising the woman. Then she remembered Halo was right next to her and probably heard the entire conversation. “Everyone of us, those in service and in management, are just pawns for the Table and those who sit above it. We’re the ones who keep this business alive while they get to sit back and relax.”

Catching onto that Halo was leaking what the Bowery King told Domino, Phoenix stands from her chair. “You’ve been in service longer than all of us, Domino. You said it yourself. Haven’t you realized things are starting to get out of hand? I mean look!” She gestures to Y/n’s face, “You followed their rules and they nearly took half your face off. Who gives a fuck if you did more than what you had to—John Wick is your family. How could they not expect you to want to help him?”

The others voice agreement, Fritz nudging Y/n lightly with his arm, “It’s not fair, Dom. It hasn’t been fair in years. I say we should do it.” He specifies when she gives a confused look, “Join the Bowery King.”

“No,” she shakes her head immediately, “No—if anyone is going against the Table, it’s gonna be me. I’ll step down and you guys continue what we’ve done here for decades. I will not have you all die because of my cousin's mess.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Hangman politely grabbed her attention. “It’s not up to you. Even if you step down, we still can join him if we please. So why not do it together. Because we’re not letting you go alone.” Everyone agrees with murmurs and nods, causing Y/n to drop her head between her shoulders.

“We’re talking war. Against the High Table—not some single crime syndicate we’ve dealt with before, this is all twelve seat holders, the Elder, and all their subordinates. Which we—,” she gestures to all of them, “we are those subordinates. This goes past New York…it’s the whole fucking world.”

“We know,” Payback says with confidence. “We know the risk, Dom. We’re willing to take it.”

Y/n connects her gaze with each member, seeing the determination in their eyes causing an emotion she couldn’t describe to swarm through her. What she didn’t know was they each were on board the second Rooster and Halo revealed the Bowery King’s offer. Seeing their friend and comrade nearly die by following the rules they all swore to obey ignited a fire in them. They were after revenge. Who’s to say the Table wouldn’t come after them in the future. Better to stop them now before that could happen.

The assassin was having trouble grasping it all. This was her family. The people she trusted most in the world. John was once that person, and right now he has a lot to do to gain it back, but if he joins the cause then they could be unstoppable. And from what the King told her, he was confident by dawn John would be involved.

“Okay,” she says softly. “We do this as a team. The same way we’ve always done. But no one—,” she lifts a finger to emphasize her point, “no one steps out of line or goes rogue because an opportunity arises. We have to play this safe. We need to be tactical in our approach. Even if it takes weeks, months, hell, even a year or more before we see some action, then we will be patient. The Bowery King, John, maybe even Winston if the old man doesn't become a snake, all of us know the best thing to do is hit the Table when they are at their most vulnerable. When that happens….it will break before our eyes.”

Seven Hours Later….

John looked lifeless as he laid on the cold ground. Who could blame him really after he fell over ten stories while hitting obstacles that broke his fall. Not even five minutes after he landed a white van pulled up in the narrow alley, Harvard and Yale hopping out from the back to drag the man into the vehicle. Before they could close the doors a gray pit bull jumped in, licking John’s face. Recognizing the dog as the one Y/n warned them about, they shut the doors and yelled for Coyote to start driving.

When they got to meet up point, John was handed off to one of the Bowery King’s surviving men, wheeling John into the underground tunnel they had all taken up camp. Coyote ditched the van with all three sneaking into the tunnel, careful for prying eyes. Once in the tunnel they got to work with half of the Daggers while the other half accompanied Domino where the King was located. Like the Top Gun boss, the King had stitches on his face and neck. His cuts were smaller than the one she received, but enough to do damage.

“How you doing, John?” He asked from his throne. John’s dog made himself comfortable on the couch. Off to the side, barely seen with the limited light stood Rooster, Hangman, Payback, Fritz, and Phoenix. “You look as bad as I feel,” he started to laugh the same way he did over the phone, setting down his orange soda, “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Raise a hand if you can hear me, John.”

With a tremor, John lifted his left hand to raise his index and middle fingers, making the King go, “Oh shit. They took a finger. Ain’t that a bitch?” His laugh increased in volume when John maneuvered the hand to show only his middle finger. The rumble of his chest from laughing made the King groan from the pain of his injuries there.

“Oh John. Fucking. Wick. So, the old boy keeps his hotel and you take the fall. Can’t say I blame him I would’ve done the same thing if I was in his shoes,” he pauses to inhale as he moves to stand from his throne, “But this High Table shit. Seven cuts. You should see what they did to your cousin. In fact, she’s right here.” A cane is in his hands when he begins to move closer to John.

The heels of Y/n’s boots echo, the light hitting her stitched face when she comes to stand beside the King. “Damn,” she mutters with a grimace. “That fall sure did a number on you, Johnny boy.” John doesn’t look at her, he keeps his head down the entire time. “Who would’ve thought we’d end up here? I was hoping to be rid of ya after last week. Funny how fate works.”

The Bowery King chuckles, focusing back on John. “Under the table is where shit gets done. And they about to find out if you cut a king, you better cut him to the quick. So,” he lowers himself to the ground, holding onto his cane. “Let me ask you, John, how you feel?” John pants, face still hidden by his raggedy hair. The King speaks with menace, “‘Cause I am really. Pissed. Off. Are you pissed off, Dom?”

Y/n crouches down, elbows resting on her hips as her one eye stares down on her bloodied cousin. Her tone is the same as the King’s, “I’m really fucking pissed off. You pissed, John?”

“Hmm?” The King awaits his answer, hands shaking from how angry he was. “Are you?”

The fallen man finally starts to move, the two watching closely as he holds himself up on his hands. When he turns to face them, they finally see his bruised face, but they are more drawn to his eyes. He’s absolutely pissed the fuck off.

“Yeah.”

………………

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @poppyalice2001, @americaarse, @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black

[blueharborhq]

TASK 004 — RANDOMIZER #1

Happy September, everyone! As we celebrate (nearly) four months of being open here at Blue Harbor, we'd love to introduce something new and exciting: a randomized interaction task! This type of task is one that we'd love to incorporate more consistently moving forward in order to ensure that everyone is making new IC / OOC connections, staying inclusive towards others, and having fun! Unlike previous tasks, THIS TASK IS MANDATORY FOR ALL MEMBERS TO PARTAKE IN, excluding those who have joined or taken up additional characters following the date of September 1st. Don't worry, though, it's relatively simple! Underneath the cut, you will find every character of BH split up into smaller groups of four ( two will be of five ). These groups were mainly chosen by an online randomizer, with minimal admin interference to make sure that everyone was paired with as many different members as possible, most of whom they may not interact with frequently. That being said, considering the sheer quantity of muns and characters, there may be instances of repeats (For example: A, who has four characters, being in two separate groups with B, who also has four characters) — so don't be alarmed if that's the case for you! That just means more opportunity to chat with someone.

By October 1st, we expect all characters within a group to have at least one interaction individually with each other. This gives you all four weeks to plot and work out a connection— be it random or otherwise — with every character assigned to yours, and every mun in your group! These interactions do not need to be complex, nor do they even need to be written threads. Since this is the first time we're implementing this sort of task, we'll happily accept interactions like texts / calls / facetimes for this, so long as you keep in mind that they will not count towards activity. Ideally, these interactions will not be dropped and will surpass just one reply back and forth; we really want everyone to put the most amount of effort possible into this, rather than doing the bare minimum because it's required. PLEASE NOTE: We will be keeping track as best as we possibly can, and anyone who does not start the required interaction within the given time frame (who has also not opened up a conversation with us to discuss) may receive a friendly follow up! Rest assured, if you wind up falling into this category, you won't be in trouble in any way! We simply want to understand how we can make future installments of this task better for you and improve upon it for next time!

That being said, if you feel as though you cannot complete this task for any reason, please reach out to us. This task is supposed to be something fun and mutually beneficial for all, not a chore! Nor should it be stressful in the slightest. So if there is an element to this task that you are unhappy with, so much so that you feel like you cannot complete it, we need to know. We're willing to chat, help and compromise to make sure that everyone is having a good time! You can do so via the main's direct messages or either admin personally on Discord, as the anonymous feature will remain disabled for the foreseeable future.

Ahead of time, we thank each and every one of you for your cooperation!

GROUP 1.

Deacon Edwards ( Laine )

Elijah Falvey ( Kellen )

Leandro Contreras ( Stef )

Safiye Aksoy ( Kris )

Valletta Cambridge ( Emily )

GROUP 2.

Rafael Moldonado ( G )

Giselle Finch ( Kau )

Rachel Han ( Claire )

Dante Kidd ( Stef )

Madisyn Huang ( Soph )

GROUP 3.

Oliver Ashford ( Alyssa )

Ash Williams ( Em )

Ruby Morrisey ( Kau )

Estefania Betancourt ( Velouria )

GROUP 4.

Maximilian Mohan ( Frankie )

Halide Dursun ( Hanna )

Theodora Nowak ( Ceecee )

Sawyer Marshall ( Alyssa )

GROUP 5.

Dylan Westwick ( Claire )

Warren Pearce ( Hanna )

Grayson Heller ( Christie )

Valentine Finch ( Laine )

GROUP 6.

Juno Behar ( Stef )

Theo Bailey ( Mina )

Jack Lynch ( Aaron )

Grace Connors ( Krys )

GROUP 7.

Dilara Kaplan ( Stef )

Calahan Macarthy ( Manes )

Eliana Kendrick ( Sarah )

Leonard Katz ( G )

GROUP 8.

Daniel Choi ( Krys )

Thalia Edwards ( G )

Ruairi Macarthy ( Riley )

Antonella Ibarra ( Talia )

GROUP 9.

Cassie Westwood ( Hanna )

Dahlia Young ( Krys )

Damian Escobedo ( Ceecee )

Lisha Katz ( J )

GROUP 10.

Sofia Escobedo ( Em - 2 )

Selina Vale ( Talia )

Leon Wozniak ( J )

Angel Wallace ( Sarah )

Trey Kingston ( Christie )

GROUP 11.

Jasper Finch ( Manes )

Phoebe Yates ( Soph )

James Bennett ( Eric )

Terry Lowenstein ( Laine )

GROUP 12.

Jia Kim ( Em )

Lainey Caldwell ( Nikki )

Jeanie Ramachandran ( Aaron )

Elspeth Sun ( Manes )

GROUP 13.

Berenice Henry ( J )

Isabel Guzman ( Alyssa )

Maya Jackson ( Krys )

Avery Chopra ( Bay )

GROUP 14.

Saul Weissberg ( Velouria )

Lincoln Welch ( Nikki )

Samuel Harrison ( Talia )

Liam Reed ( Em )

GROUP 15.

Scarlett Blackwood ( Caitlyn )

Antonio Beltran ( Ceecee )

Chance Underwood ( Kau )

Nilay Bailey ( Bay )

GROUP 16.

Arizona Ortega ( Kris )

Moshe Behar ( Riley )

Izulu Zakwe ( Emily )

Quintana Weisz ( Nikki )

GROUP 17.

Rory Anderson ( Ceecee )

Matty Foster ( Molly )

Lewys Stone ( Sky )

Micah Weissberg ( Frankie )

GROUP 18.

Josie Finch ( Em - 2 )

Nate Abadiño ( Kau )

Roman Daniels ( Soph )

Charlette Lowenstein ( Riley )

[seitokaisnihongo]

How to gain access to the Seitokai Discord server

Hi, friends! It's @onigiriforears (aka shay) here! I'm going to teach you how to gain access to our entire server. Step by step.

Step 1: The first message and channel that you'll see when you enter the server is in the #welcome channel. It'll look something like this:

Step 2: Please follow the directions and head over to the #rules channel. This channel is going to make sure that you understand the rules and guidelines of the server. It's imperative that you read it because even though this is a server focused on learning and free resource sharing, we're a community server that's trying to make sure that we don't violate Discord's guidelines. READ THEM IN ENTIRETY. If you're confused, feel free to message me on Discord (I'm the "shay" that's mentioned/pinged in your welcome message. I know you're in the server--I allow the server's notifications to push through my DND settings.) You could also message me or send me an ask @onigiriforears, but discord will get you a faster response.

Step 3: From there, please go to the #verify-yourself channel. In this channel, you'll be confirming that you didn't lie about actually reading the #rules. We (me, mods, and admin) can tell if you're lying based off of what #roles you have (or don't have). Why do we have it set up this way? We're trying to discourage trolls and bots from entering the server. Because, unfortunately, we have been raided and trolled more than once. Some specific moments would be when someone broke through our (at the time) low-key "pick a role" option and stole our roster list. They used it to find mutual servers that they shared with members and then harassed them in the mutual servers after being banned in ours. (That included stealing ppl's stuff in the dank meme bot and whatnot.) A second time would be when someone broke through our mandatory #roles and spammed channels and told everyone that people who can't get to N1 in a year are dumb <not a good look. He was promptly banned lmao.

Step 4: Head over to the #roles channel. IT'S SO IMPORTANT. This is where you'll have to choose the one role that's mandatory--every other role within that channel is optional besides the JLPT level roles. Why? Since we're a community server focused on resource sharing and engagement, we also make sure we pay attention to our server demographics. If we have a slew of N5 or beginning members, we make sure that we have a lot of N5-targeted events and resources available. For a while, we had no N2 and N1 members, so we were able to hold off on posting kanji for the levels for a bit while we focused on something else. Now, we have a good mixture.

Step 5: ENJOY THE SERVER! If you've properly followed steps 1-4, you'll have gained access to the entire server. If not, please message me or you might find yourself in server purgatory where we ping you to get your attention until you either ask for help or you follow through lmao--aka the #temp channel. It's a private channel that only admin and other purgatory-dwellers can see. Once you get your appropriate roles, the channel disappears for you.

If you're thinking, this is a pain of a way to get in: it was a pain for me to set it up like this, too. Trial and error over almost 2 years of being a server. I can say that after setting it up this way, we haven't had anymore trolls or bots enter.

[wallisninety-six]

The Quiet, Dark, Landmark Rock Experiment of the Beach Boys' "Today!"

In 1964, The Beatles arrived to America and began the British Invasion, causing the Beach Boys to play catch up commercially and artistically- they released four albums in just under a year, and started laboriously touring nonstop as a result- and those results were consequential to bandleader Brian Wilson.

Brian had already been producing, arranging, and preforming in not only the band's output, but also for other artists like Glen Campbell, and stressed hard over work, his image & artistic output, and his rushed marriage with Marilyn Rovell. And eventually, while on tour- he suffered a serious panic attack that was so bad, that he soon moved away from touring to focus solely on songwriting & production...and the first major result of it all, is the 1965 album "Today!"

Today!- by many accounts, is a really *weird* album and sticks out from not only the classic surf-era of the band, but also from the post-Pet Sounds period. The latter half of the album (and the whole work in general) is often talked about in comparison to Pet Sounds, which makes sense- but I think doing that does Today! a great disservice to what the album meant in 1965- because it's endearing, strange and even innovative completely on its own terms.

Today! was divided into uptempo songs on side 1, and dramatic ballads in side 2- and the great talents of session group The Wrecking Crew were brought to do the instrumentals for both; five of their members had worked on previous Beach Boys albums like All Summer Long, but with Today!- they had a fuller, two dozen-strong crew to help create a new, bold sound in rock and roll: progressive, atmospheric, and orchestral. And more than ever before, their sound plus Brian's increasingly complex compositions and the inclusion of instruments not heard in rock helps elevate the album's sound itself to whole new levels.

The album's ideas of a more progressive rock were very novel in a world of classic rock & roll, traditional vocal pop, and then-growing folk rock movement- that barely any major act sought to go in a similar direction in rock aside from the equally-ambitious Beatles. It made the intro "Do You Wanna Dance" have a borderline power pop sound, give "When I Grow Up to be a Man" a twinkling baroque shimmer, and "Kiss Me Baby" that much more theatrical and thunderous- with Boys' harmonies in one of their strongest forms for this album, too. And not only that, Dennis Wilson sings lead for the first time on two tracks- showcasing his deep crooner vocal style and an implicit message that this isn't the youthful boy band you know anymore.

The subjects of these songs itself helped veer mainstream rock lyricism towards something much more brutally confessional and (for better or worse) much more glaringly honest and autobiographical, to an almost uncomfortable extent- the worries of growing up and your future being bad, relationship issues of mutual distrust & suspicion- but also still wanting it all to last. Brian's lyricism was much more overtly paranoid, and much more explicitly sad- sometimes in ways that Pet Sounds wasn't. This is reflected in some songs Brian sang lead in like "She Knows Me Too Well", his voice was much more hoarse and emotional in a way that goes beyond *just* singing a sad song...

Potentially leading to the more emotional lyrics and performance- Brian started to drink much more, and he used marijuana for the first time- leading directly to the hazy sadness of "Please Let Me Wonder"- a hint of Brian's willingness to go beyond music and go *deeper* within himself to make a more personal, creative statement. All of this makes the last track more glaring- it isn't even a song but part of an interview with the band, almost certainly put there by the Boys/Capitol Records to lift the downer mood of side 2 and show that "everyone's okay!" (Brian's wife, Marilyn even appears in it chatting with the group)- but this inclusion at the very end almost feels as if the entire album we just listened to was what was brewing behind the interview the whole time.

This is the album that cemented the band's image change that moved away from that iconic surf image that started in All Summer Long, and it helped chart a new path for the band that led to great future success- But things wouldn't be so rosy. After all, the lead-up to this album saw significant and growing vulnerabilities to Brian's psyche even as he was quickly & radically expanding his artistic talents...and this was hinted in the seemingly skippable last track where Mike Love utters a line that- in hindsight, is incredibly ominous-sounding:

"Brian, we keep waiting for you to make a mistake."

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Once more, I do not post links directly leading to any blogs that are not from my mutual friends and followers regarding meta, anon, but I will break this down.

In cultural context, it is not meant to be romantic regarding the idiom of (青梅竹馬) qīng méi zhú mǎ. Literal meaning, green plums and play horses. The innocence of youth and the wonder of simple (childhood friend) games. Please note that endearments such as "sweet heart" in modern context, as the direct translation means, is vastly different than what is entailed by the idiom itself, and is bad, awful machine translation that does not take into account the linguistic meanings that are needed for tone meaning and reading.

If it meant the direct romantic connotation of romantic, it would be 恋人 (liàn rén) compared to the character used within the idiom 青 (qíng) (which does denote a more platonic meaning for the relationship and childhood friends). You do not use this to mean "lovers" as an idiom, it loses contextual meaning otherwise and loses the point of the word play.

The poem itself was originally a romantic poem, by Li Bai. And as such should be one of most well known Chinese poets and usual literary fair elementary students know as much as the West would with the usual school fare of reading assignments.

妾髮初覆額

折花門前劇

郎騎竹馬來

遶床弄青梅

同居長干里

兩小無嫌猜

十四為君婦

羞顏未嘗開

低頭向暗壁

千喚不一回

十五始展眉

願同塵與灰

常存抱柱信

豈上望夫臺

十六君遠行

瞿塘灩澦堆

五月不可觸

猿聲天上哀

門前遲行跡

一一生綠苔

苔深不能掃

落葉秋風早

八月蝴蝶黃

雙飛西園草

感此傷妾心

坐愁紅顏老

早晚下三巴

預將書報家

相迎不道遠

直至長風沙

My hair had hardly covered my forehead.

I was picking flowers,playing by my door,

When you, on a bamboo horse,

Came trotting in circles, throwing green plums.

We lived near together on a lane in Channggan,

Both of us young and happy-hearted.

...At fourteen I became your wife,

So bashful that I dared not smile,

And I lowered my head toward a dark corner

And would not turn to your thousand calls;

But at fifteen I straightened my brows and laughed,

Learning that no dust could ever seal our love,

That even unto death I would await you by my post

And would never lose heart in the tower of silent watching.

...Then when I was sixteen, you left on a long journey

Through the Gorges of Changgan, of rock and whirling water.

And then came the Fifth-month, more than I could bear,

And I tried to hear the monkeys in your lofty far-off sky.

Your footprints by our door, where I had watched you go,

Were hidden, every one of them, under green moss,

Hidden under moss too deep to sweep away.

And the first autumn wind added fallen leaves.

And now, in the Eighth-month, yellowing butterflies

Hover, two by two, in our west-garden grasses

And, because of all this, my heart is breaking

And I fear for my bright cheeks, lest they fade.

...Oh, at last, when you return through the three Pa districts,

Send me a message to home you come

And I will come and meet you and pay no mind to the distance,

All the way to Changgan.

I hope in comparison the vast sarcasm of the idiom is apparent in context to what the random nameless gossiper is exhibiting in the original reference this sentence used:

江澄居然就让这厮嚣张了这么久，换了是我，当初魏某人叛逃时就不是只捅他一刀，而是直接清理门户，否则他也没机会做出后来那些丧心病狂之事。对这种人，还讲什么同门同修青梅竹马的情面。

Translation (mine, seven seas and ExR:)

1: Jiang Cheng allowed that servant to live for too long. If I were him, when he defected, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him, I would have thoroughly wiped him out so he couldn’t commit his deranged acts later. Who cares about the sentiments about childhood friendship when people like him don’t care.”

2:

“I can’t believe Jiang Cheng allowed that guy to run amok for so long. If it were me, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him when he first defected, I would’ve cleaned house! He wouldn’t even have gotten the chance to do all those crazy things. What does a childhood friendship matter when facing people like him?”

3:

Jiang Cheng allowed this fellow to live for too long. If I were him, at the time of the defection, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him. In fact, I would have thoroughly examined the disciples of the clan again, so that he doesn’t do those crazy things he did later on. Who cares about the so called ‘considerations’ that he gave to his childhood friend.”

Now, with the idea that while the original meaning was meant to be sweet and sentimental, the idiom is certainly not any longer nor is the meaning to mean lover literally. Mandarin plays heavy upon the context of meaning for each of these words.

In short: this is why actual understanding of the language you are lecturing of is important as you can easily twist it to what is not there for ones that literally do not know and take it all at face value.

[dabs-into-oblivion]

re: my last reblog:

gonna get into some very personal shit here. big trigger warning for domestic violence.

my parents have been together for about 30 years, married for most of that. both of my father's parents have died during that time, and my mom's father as well. my father has not had a job in, i think, 29 years - he was a homeschool parent for roughly 2 decades while my sibling and i were growing up, and he does housework.

both of my parents were previously married to other people. my mom's first husband was incredibly abusive in ways that i don't even know the specifics of. my father abused his first wife (she left him after less than a decade, iirc, and got custody of their daughter). i do not remember a time when people were not being abused in the household i grew up in.

in the past couple of years, my parents have moved countries and started to make actual friends for the first time in as long as i can remember. (they really didn't have many friends when i was growing up. they fell out with their oldest friend, my godmother, in 2020ish when she basically refused to get any of the covid vaccines.)

earlier this year (sometime in may?), my mom told me about an insurance of physical abuse that had happened this january. to my knowledge, this was the first reoccurrence of physical abuse after multiple years of him behaving better. (but there was still the ongoing emotional component to the abuse - i don't think that ever fully stopped.)

in june, i reached out to my father via direct message and told him, "hey, this isn't okay, you need to do better." he never actually directly responded to that.

a few weeks ago, i had a video call with the two of them, during which i attempted to tell my father that i was concerned about him not talking to people about what's going on with him. he brushed off my concerns, and i trusted him, because, yknow, what else am i going to do?

in the past couple of days, his behavior has gotten worse again, to the point where:

my mom spent a night with the neighbors because she was too scared to stay in the house with him

she's clearly reached some kind of breaking point

both of my parents subsequently talked to a mutual friend of theirs who is a retired divorce lawyer

this guy has offered for my father to stay with him for the time being and is basically taking responsibility for trying to get my father to go to counseling and figure out his shit

my father is apparently (i haven't spoken to him and i won't unless he reaches out to me directly) scared shitless that my mom is going to leave him (as he fucking should be)

and, like, my father has been resistant to the idea of going to therapy for YEARS. to the point where he's basically told me not to go to therapy, because he thinks it's pointless. my mom has tried to get him to talk to someone about his shit for years, and he's been incredibly difficult about it.

he is ultimately responsible for his own behavior. and also, the ways that society tells men to behave did NOT help him here.

also, my mom is safe and is planning on taking a trip to visit me and also my sibling within the next couple of weeks.

(not that any of mutuals would do this, but just in case: don't come on here and victim-blame my mom. you'll get blocked if you do that.)

[00towns]

two eulogies to female friendships

K

K and I were on the rocks for a while before our friendship passed, quietly and softly over an unreplied text message, the final nail in a coffin filled with six weeks worth of silence. It felt almost gentle; like laying an aging, suffering pet down to rest. I stopped uploading Japanese to English translations of the weekly quote from our matching planners, I stopped introducing her cat as mine to my students. 

I wasn’t sad. Our friendship hadn’t been good for almost a year, starting with a series of mutually terrible communications and oversteps when she started seeing someone new, who my general indifference towards would become intermediate annoyance and eventually settle on active dislike. It was a bad combination of my tendency to be critical of my friend’s relationships, and her tendency to be sensitive in matters of the heart, and our shared poor habit of telling each other all our thoughts. I moved eight thousand miles away, a trip happened, it went extremely poorly, we did our best to stay friends, but for all the work we had done to stay good with each other, it was the beginning of the end. Our text conversations kept devolving into arguments, which is funny in retrospect but was exhausting and pedantic in the moment. We kept saying we fought because our friendship was worth it; at the time I think it was, but it quickly wore down to a grinding, creaky halt. It was season six of a sitcom that had gone on too long. We had talked every day for probably close to five years. 

K and I had grown in different directions from the beginning of our relationship, although this had worked at the time. Once, I joked with my DC friend group that our other friends outside of each other were reflections of all the other elements of ourselves that we didn’t always bring to that group. K was that friend, with our shared hobbies and background, and being around her and her friends almost felt indulgent, like I was leaning into a part of myself that felt like the ease of high school friends, uncritical, grounded, unchallenging. In a way, I found comfort in the feeling of joining a hometown friend group because of my unconventional high school experience. They were never anything but welcoming, kind, and accepting, so quintessentially tied to Northern Virginia it felt like I was experiencing an alternate timeline where I grew up there. When I laid our relationship down to rest, I felt more so like I was grieving that hometown experience, people who I knew weren’t going to leave and weren’t going to change, exactly the type of people you come home to. Ultimately, I think this, too, was part of the death of our friendship; it was no longer working at a distance. I was changing, unsure of where I was going, and I wasn’t sure how to relate anymore to that brief, liminal desire for feeling at home. 

We hadn’t had any mutual friends before meeting, so it was shockingly easy to extract our lives from each others. The distance helped. Even my parents had seen the end coming from a few months out. I sometimes wish it had been harder – maybe the proximity would have healed things over naturally, or at the very least the door to reconnection would have remained open without either of us having to turn the knob. A strong point of our friendship was how much we liked each other in a vacuum. We were always able to hang out one on one, but it proved to be the thing that aided the end. Strangely, the messiest, most drawn-out ending led to the cleanest break.

2. R

My friendship with R ended almost not at all, which I am cruelly reminded of by our text conversations from late 2021. After six months of no contact, she had asked me a question about a store in our hometown, I replied, we caught up. She asked if I wanted to Facetime. I said sure, but I just started a new job, so I’ll let you know when’s best for me. I never texted again. 

R was the closest thing I had to a best friend, perhaps for the first time in my adult life. My high school best friends and I scattered across the world after graduation and had yet to spend any meaningful amount of time in the same city, another casualty of the international school system, so when I met R at school it was like spending time with someone in the first way that was familiar again – always being someone’s first choice, unspoken assumptions, a friendship that doesn’t need identifying. It was so easy to be good all the time, and the pandemic helped quite a bit. We were friends in a lazy rhythm of movie nights, takeout meals, lying in the sun, eating expensive pastries. I probably wouldn’t have gotten through the later months of COVID without her. We joked more than just a little that we were the same person, from our Myer-Briggs personality types, down to our interests, all the way to the specific tint of hair I took up first, then her, and a new hobby, which she took up first, then me. We were the perfect shade of each other, different enough to be interesting but similar enough to goad each other on. 

Ultimately, life returned to a sort of recognizable rhythm when I went back to school after three semesters of COVID lockdown. A few months later, R confessed feelings for me and I ran in the opposite direction – first by being what I can now recognize as slightly unforgiving, then by ghosting, which was extremely unfair. It’s one of the biggest regrets I have in the entirety of my early twenties, and I think I’m only now coming to realize exactly what about that made me run. I didn’t reciprocate her feelings, which is something that many, many friendships have moved past without issue, and is objectively not a problem. But I had projected so much of my personality and identification onto her as parallel reflections of each other that the notion of something unfamiliar that I had gone so long without knowing was scary, especially romantic feelings, which remain slightly terrifying to me to this day. It felt like something much, much bigger than it probably was, and came with too many questions that required a look inwards that I wasn’t ready to do at twenty-one. Seeing someone who I saw so closely as a version of myself struggling with the same questions was too much. All these reasons to stop being friends seem utterly unimportant in retrospect. 

I reached out a few months ago, and we had a nice conversation. It had been two years. She’s working towards the same goal now she was then, has moved in with a boyfriend, seems to be generally enjoying her life. She told me about what some of my friend-in-laws were up to. I told her about my move to Japan. I’m not sure what I reached out with the intention of doing, but my bid for connection was received with polite friendliness, arms-length interest, and closure. I’m not unsatisfied by this, but it’s a far cry from the way we used to know each other. The more things change, the more they stay the same. 

3. G

To be honest, I can write love letters to these friendships lost only now, in a particularly clear-headed moment of reflection, where I can recount objectively what happened and why. It’s taken me a moment to get to this place. But make no mistake, I’m extremely and constantly torn up over these friendships lost. I’m kept up at night by the silence; these people are the only reasons that I ever find myself itching to check social media over, the only things that can summon the type of hallucinatory anxiety I usually only attribute to my first year of college. Agonizing over what was lost sometimes feels like it takes up more of my brain than cultivating my living relationships. I don’t do much with this fact except agonize, too. 

What does it mean for me to have ended two once-incredibly meaningful relationships with Asian American women who I called best friends? Is this just what happens? Does everyone really experience the unique torture of the empty space left by a connection that used to be as natural as instinct? I asked around, more curious than anything if this specific experience of one’s twenties is supposed to be this excruciating, this exhausting, this anticlimactic. The answers I received were mixed, not in yes’s or no’s, but in varying degrees of sympathy (one person called me immediately to talk about it, one person reminded me to fill out a Google Form to vote for her startup before answering that yeah, kinda). The overall sentiment, polled from friends from a range of distances and relationalities, was like this: everyone loses friends in their twenties, this point isn't up for debate, it’s moreso that everyone is varying degrees of cut up about it. This is perhaps the answer that I least wanted to hear – to me, it’s a reminder that the locus of everyone’s emotional and anxious energy lies oriented in a different direction, focused towards different aspects of life both in and outside the self. There are some who feel the loss of a best friend like a phantom limb, there are some people who plow forward casting a spare thought or two every few months. That lost friends in particular are such a point of constant self-aggravation for me feels cruel; I’m doomed to spend my most anxious moments tormented over something that is defined by its absence. The torture is silence, the silence is the torture. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if we had fought, really fought like they do in /r/AITA posts or storytime videos, so at least I would have something to apologize for that doesn’t feel like an emotional self-immolation, something starkly black and white so that the terms of my prostration can have a closed start and end. Instead, I don’t feel much like apologizing for anything at all, or that I’m owed one, either. On the best days, these people who were once everything become just a passing thought. On the worst, they’re summoned at every turn, a spectral ghost trailing a few feet behind and screaming whenever I go too long without thinking about it. Is anything more unkind than indifference? 

When my suffering starts to feel too personal, like whoever built the social structures that scaffold life outside the self was designing a system specifically to rub up against my specific anxieties, I try to start reminding myself of what my problems sound like on paper. I lost touch with a friend. I’m a little pressed for money. I’m twenty-four and still not quite sure what I want to do with my life. These are so perfectly quotidian that I imagine that thinking of them objectively will make me feel better, like I’m B-plot in a show with a 20 minute runtime – these things will impact my character’s development over the course of the season, but for now, I can be soothed in the time it takes for a viewer to get bored. However, I don’t think that this is a particularly effective approach, because instead of reminding me that what feels like personalized emotional torture is actually normal, I feel instead like I’m particularly stupid for being affected so strongly by problems that are literally so normal that they could be on the Disney Channel. This has led to a weird ego-space where I both think I’m better than most people at managing my emotions, but I also think I feel my emotions more strongly than a lot of people, two conclusions that I have absolutely no evidence for besides the above. Objectivity, in this sense, has done little to help me out. In moments when my thoughts feel like they’ll swell in my stomach and regurgitate out of my eyes and nose, the reminder that I am just sitting on the floor of my own house isn’t grounding, calming, or centering; it’s deeply humiliating. I’m the person playing the game, and I’m also the person making all the rules. I am part of the reason that I lost these two friends, and I am ashamed to be suffering to this day from their loss anyway. 

In the aftermath of these two quiet funerals, I’ve become a connection junkie, addicted to reconnecting with old friends; yesterday, I scrolled months and months down my iMessage to see if I could find any unturned rocks, unpopped blue bubbles, unrung bells. I’m hooked on feeling like an adult, I’m hooked on seeing people I love being adults, like the overwhelming strength of my own nostalgia makes me a suitable messenger between who they are now and who they are in my head. I feel like I’m proving something to them as they live in my memories, freshly sixteen, or twenty-one, or moved. I present my harvest in hasty fistfuls, like a child showing off some strange organic matter found in the park. Look how things can be! Look how things are! It’s a vivid, hallucinatory kind of satisfaction, and has been so surprisingly loving. Distance and time have sweetened these types of connections – ones where there is no love lost, no posturing, no illusions about the type of people we once were, because we already knew each other then, and loved each other anyways. These, too, will never be the same as they once were, but they’re a reminder that most people from the past are not dead connections, just dormant ones. 

In the past month, I’ve reconnected with three friends that I haven’t seen in six, three, and three years respectively. This is both a long time and not a long time at all, which I take to be a sign of good friends. When we talk, I am both the person I was when we were the closest and the person who I am now, which has been somewhat of a difficult gap to bridge. I agonize over the worst parts of myself as a teenager, and wonder if the person I’m talking to agonizes over them too, which is in itself a very self-obsessed thing to say, and perhaps not very kind to them. I’m slightly sorry to these people, who I can admit that in part I am using as a vehicle for some exercise of my own self-reflection; they are a projection for my need to externally process. At the same time, I realize very clearly that I am somewhat putting my head in the sand in regards to what it can mean to connect with people. Returning to old friendships has been an incredible blessing; it has also been a sort of panic response to experiencing other losses. This, too, is unfair, and yet connection is so, so sweet. What I recognize is missing, however, between a rekindled connection and a close friendship lost, is the instinct. 

In Japanese culture, like most non-Western cultures, there’s no custom of saying something when someone sneezes. While there are a number of other set phrases for everyday happenings (leaving for work, arriving at work, eating, finishing eating, leaving work, arriving home, seeing someone else go to work, seeing someone else come home, seeing someone working, asking for a favor, receiving a favor…), sneezing has no steam as a social function. In my Japanese workplace, the feeling is exceedingly strange: when someone sneezes, I move to say something out of instinct, or maybe social conditioning, and find no equivalent turn of phrase in Japanese. I turn to them, open my mouth, and find myself without anything to say. It’s not that the words don’t come, or that they’ve slipped my mind; they literally do not exist. What stays, however, even when words fail, is the instinct, the scaffolding of an expression, the exoskeleton of an oscillating relationship to an entire separate cultural schema. Instead of saying bless you, I think consciously that I will not say bless you, because I am in a different cultural context than the one I was raised in, an iterative reminder that You Are Here. It’s much harder to unlearn an instinct than it is to develop a new one, but most of the time I manage to hold my bless you in anyways, reserving it for my English club kids who laugh whenever I say it. 

This is the rhythm that I think comes as close as possible to describing what it feels like to have lost a very close friend: I am moving through the world, constantly enthralled by its graces, and each time I am reminded of a friend, my instinct to experience their joy as mine comes as easily as second nature. The thought of their joy, their delight, their amusement at something becomes mine, because it was, for years and years, but isn’t anymore. I turn, open my mouth, and have nothing to say. The words do not come, or maybe they don’t exist in the new language I speak without them, an entire lexicon severed. I imagine I’ve lost a great deal of this lexicon already, because like languages, people are not static. With disuse, I can feel the words becoming more and more unnatural; everything is a reminder of someone but I can’t quite recall why. I am not associating this thing with you, because I am not friends with you anymore. This is the harder voice to silence. Part of my brain is frozen in time at the moment where we were when we stopped being friends, and probably will be forever. The skeleton remains. 

I haven’t spoken to R in a few years at this point, but recently developed an old roll of film that had a few shots of us with friends on a parking structure rooftop. There was at least a year of time between those pictures and the next few, taken outside of my parent’s place in Tokyo. We once talked about her coming to visit me there and stay a few weeks during the summer. The gap between those photos is part of that lexicon, too, evidence of the linguistic breakdowns of quarantine, our spiraling relationship, the indifference. It was a reminder – the same type of reminder that I’d like hope for this written reflection to be – that while now passed, these friendships were once sunny afternoons, grainy film, letters on brown paper, solid, ephemeral, vivid. The bitterness of the present reminder of a lost friendship does not detract from the sweetest gift that it once was to be able to summon a loved one at every earthly delight. This tangibility reminds me to not be ashamed of the size of this feeling, that to have experienced love that large at all is beyond words of gratitude. To K and R, I send my most private love from here to where you are in the world, just as earnest as it always was, and if you can remember, I hope you can feel it just as sweetly as where we left it. 

Thank you. 

P.S. This is kind of a morbid post to do this on, but I’m obsessed with one of J’s friends and so honored to have a reader outside of my immediate circle that I’m shouting him out, hi Kevin, can’t wait to meet you. 

ref:

우리 나름의 겨울 나는 법 | HOME (NOT) ALONE | 두 번째 이야기

thank you JJ for your sneeze anecdote! 

居場所 (いばしょ、i-ba-sho) a place where a person feels a sense of belonging and purpose resulting from the social relationships associated with that place.

[starkidsbackbababababa]

jsyk @/vesperione is calling you a pedophile

Yes, I am aware of this. We interacted often about a year and a half ago. I was closer with who was our mutual friend, but as far as I can tell he doesn't seem to be involved in this so I won't say anything about him. Vesperione, a minor, and I, for part of our friendship and older minor and the other part a young adult as far as my memory serves, were roleplayers and friends for a time. At some point they invited me to an instagram group chat with themself, the "he" from before, who made me feel better about being invited, as well as all of their other mutual friends. I talked and joked in there some times, but I always felt like my jokes didn't land in that group. I asked our mutual if I was fitting in okay and he said I was fine, but after that at some point, I'd made a joke in response to someone else's about us not having a life because we spent all our time on social media. Vesperione was very upset by this joke because as I recall they'd had stalker problems online in the past, and it triggered them. I asked if it was a good idea that I leave the group chat, and they said yes, and so I did without hesitation. I was later blocked by both them and our then mutual, which was very painful, so much so that I oened an old account and tried to reach out to him specifically again to talk, but I was later informed by someone else that that had made him quite uncomfortable, and I can understand why. That wasn't the smartest move, and I should have let him be. I'm not perfect, just not a pedophile. They have a selection of screenshots, and perhaps or perhaps not several more I haven't seen, but I'll briefly go over what I've seen posted. Photos of male nipples with zippers photoshopped over them, with text in between saying "STOP I'M MORTIFIED" This started as a joke in messages, i forget how it came to be but the "Zipple" was created by myself and either the HE or Ves themself, which I then made several photos for, which I was showing to them because I was going to make a video out of it, because I thought it was very funny. I was not just sending nipple photos to minors. Here's the video. If I recall, the "script" was pulled direct from our conversations. https://youtube.com/shorts/L3ljLx_DA0g?si=xC0HSdzzYMhBhdzo PSA Nonce

As far as I can remember, I had 2 rps with these 2 ex friends. One where some key hatchetfield characters were trapped in Henry's basement shelter to survive from a nuke, and one with John McNamera and Xander, and some other side characters like Charles. Neither of these to my recollection had sexual themes. Henry found chad in the first one, but that was played very sweet, not crass. Also in that one I think Linda and Tom had to share a pull out couch bed due to the lack of beds in his basement, and they woke up in each others arms with Linda thinking he was Gerald, since he looked so similar. But that was played for jokes, or at MOST a possible sweet romantic plot down the line. As for the PEIP RP, I don't remember anything remotely sexual or possibly sexual happening in it. They were dating, but as far as I can remember (And I can't check since I'm blocked) There was no sexual action whatsoever. I never had any sexual roleplays or conversations with these people, or anybody else whom I knew was under age for that matter. I have definitely roleplayed smut, but never knowingly so with a minor. Fuck my phone, fuck it up the charging port, do it.

This one might seem completely inappropriate, but this was the usual way we as friends talked. Messages I CAN still see from screenshots and one single thread include "Well fuck their pretty little bleached A" and "DOOR IS EASY, DOOR IS GOOD.". We were very chaotic, and though consistency doesn't make it okay, AT ALL, they had every chance on many occasions to make it known that those jokes made them uncomfortable, or end the friendship and block me, which again, they did not do until I DID make them uncomfortable with a joke. I'm not saying it was impossible that they were uncomfortable during our conversations, but it was never made known to me that the balance I'd found in our messages was wrong and not to their liking. Fuck me stiff n call me drift wood.

There is very very little context provided for this comment. I have no clue why I'm saying that, but it's obviously just an exaggerated reaction, in a once again very chaotic and consistent conversation chain. Doesn't make it right, it just makes the point that this was once again not something they took overt offence to at that time. They even show that they'd hearted the message, which is in fairness the basic react emoji for Instagram but it implies that they didn't dislike or find any harm in the joking comment. Final image is 3 people who I considered friends only 24 hours ago saying they'd always felt weird about me, 2 named and one anon. Krow was the one who invited me to that particular Discord server, and the only one to actually tell me what the fuck was happening with all this, so I respect her for that and wish her well. Hypno apparently always felt off about me, but again I had no idea and nothing specific was said, just that my vibes were off. If I did do something troubling, I'd hope they would have reached out to me to talk to me about it, but nothing seemed off at all until I was suddenly kicked from that server without notice. And to the third anon, I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable. Again, and I made this known several times over my time on the server, that if anybody thought I crossed a line, I'd be happy to change mt behavior accordingly. About a week ago, I was contacted by a mod from the Hatchetfield Bang event I was a part of for a very similar reason, "Pressured NSFW roleplay with minors". My response, paraphrased, was that I recalled no such instances in which I'd knowingly asked to partake in ERP with a minor. I also brought up that I'd had some friendships end rather nastily in the SK community, and that I wasn't going to directly invalidate anybody's experiences or claims, "there’s something to be said for someone wanting to specifically target me." Vesperione is a prolific Hatchetfield fanfic writer, whom I think found my account through the bang, and wanted to get me out. After talking to the moderator, I agreed it would be bad to have me paired with that specific person, or any minors given the nature of the accusation, and I was allowed to stay, until only an hour ago when I was kicked from the server, along with many many others as these screenshots and perhaps other things I don't know of yet circulate around the community. But, this is my recollection of the things shown in the screenshot that I saw. If there is more evidence to talk about, please feel free to send it to me so I can see it, and I promise that I will post it and talk about it no matter what it looks like or how damning it seems to be, if there is anything to be considered "Damning". If i'm wrong, and I did absolutely fuck up and try to force minors to roleplay NSFW, then I will say that, and apologize for it, and let whatever may happen happen because that is wrong.