#I BETTER SEE NONE OF YALL CALLING HIM A SIDE CHARACTER

[kafiguas]

Yuuji making Sukuna drop to his knees, punching him back, using blood manipulation on him and hitting him with black flash. Welcome to Yuuji Kaisen

[yawntutsyip]

warnings: none

an: yeehaw, yall I promise you next chapter Neteyam and (Y/N) will have more moments 😔 I like to also show the other characters relationships too to make it more real ya know 🤷‍♀️

Chapter 7

Shy | Chapter 6

“(Y/N)?!” Lo’ak shouts as he sees you unconscious by him, he quickly moves over to by your side shaking your shoulders to try and wake you up.

He lets his eyes trail over your body as he winces looking at all the cuts you had gotten on your arms and legs, fortunately, they weren’t deep but if they weren’t treated soon they definitely would cause some problems.

He shouts your name a couple more times but still revived no answer. Lo’ak then moves into CPR, pushing against your chest, and soon enough you quickly sit up spitting out water that had been swallowed.

“There you go! It’s alright we’re okay!” Lo’ak says softly while patting your back to help you. You look around and see you guys were still out in the water. You just hoped you guys didn’t drift off further out to sea.

“Thankfully we’re on this rock huh?” Lo’ak sits next to you grinning and pats the ‘rock’ with a smile.

A rock? You look down at what you guys were sitting on, and as soon as you do your eyes go wide in realization. “Lo’ak…this isn’t a rock..”

On cue, the Tulkun lets out its clicks and whistles, Telling you guys it was in fact, not a rock.

You both look at each other before sliding off and sitting on its fin right next to its eye. “You’re a tulkun, you saved our lives,” Lo’ak said talking to the creature and receiving more clicking. Lo’ak looks to you for translation while laughing.

“They said you are welcome…oh! Lo’ak look…their hurt! We have to help them!” You state as your eyes landed on at the large metal contraption that was pierced through his fin clearly made by the humans.

“The humans…they hurt you didn’t they?” You ask the Tulkun by signing with a frown on your face. How could someone hurt such a loving and kind creature, they did not harm anyone.

‘yes’ the tulkun responds to you, even though it was just varies of echos and clicks you could hear the sadness behind it. The tulkun was in pain.

“Let’s try and pull it out,” Lo’ak tells you and you both wrap your arms around it using all your strength to pull it out but it wouldn’t budge at all.

“It’s not working! What do we do?!” You watch as Lo’ak dives into the water to get a better inspection while you stay above trying to comfort it saying it's gonna be okay.

“It’s gonna be okay! We are gonna get it out don’t worry!” You sign to the Tulkun and move closer to rest your head against its head giving it a gentle hug.

Finally, Lo’ak gets it out and swims back up to sit next to you. The tulkun only chirped in happiness thanking you guys for helping them.

“Friends?” Lo’ak signed to them, then looked to you for an answer. You smile and nod your head.

“They said yes, and thank you” you feel the Tulkun tilt itself so you both fall off of him into the water.

“What’s he doing (Y/N)?!”

“They want us to swim with them! Come on! Hold on to their fin” you tell Lo’ak pulling him along with you so you both are holding tightly onto the fin as the big creature begins to swim around.

“Excuse me!” Neteyam’s ears twitch up to an unfamiliar voice calling to him. He raises his head to the lady towering over him due to him sitting down on the sand.

“Yes? Can I help you with something?” He said politely with a smile, although Neteyam wasn’t happy here, and the people weren’t very happy with him and his family being there either, he still had manners and knew when to be respectful.

“Have you seen (Y/N)?” She asked him with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“(Y/N)?” He said back confused. The more he stared at the woman the more he realized how much you two looked alike.

‘This must her mom!’

“Oh! Sorry! No, I haven’t seen her at all

Today…is something wrong?” He quickly stands up, all attention on the lady now as he dusts off the sand and tries to at least make himself somewhat presentable. (he has to make a good first impression to his future mate's mother duhhh)

“I see…it’s just…I haven’t seen her at all today and I’m worried. She was supposed to be home an hour ago to help me and she never showed up…I would ask Ao’nung but I can’t seem to find him anywhere…” the older woman lets out a sigh while rubbing her forehead from frustration and stress. Where could her daughter be? She thought to herself only able to hope you were safe.

“I can try and go look for Ao’nung if you would like. I’ll also see if I can find her around as well…don’t worry I’m sure she’s alright!” Neteyam tries to reassure her. As much as he didn’t like Ao’nung right now, he was willing to put that all aside for now as he saw how worried your mother was for your well-being.

“Oh! If it’s not too much for you that would be appreciated, thank you so much! (Y/N) was right you know! She’s been telling me how nice of a boy you are!” She smiles back at the boy while patting him on the shoulder.

Neteyam blushed, you had been talking about him to your mom? The thought of that made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

“Of course! It’s no problem, I’ll go look for him now” he says, after exchanging quick goodbyes he set off to walk around and find the Metkayina boy.

The thing is though, Neteyam didn’t think this through as he was still learning his way around the village so it took him a while, going in circles around the village looking for the boy, but finally, with enough perseverance he found Ao’nung.

Ao’nung had been sitting with his back against a rock in the sand while fidgeting with his necklace. He would be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for you.

He felt bad at what he and his friends did and he knew you would be mad at him, he also knew he was wrong for doing it but he was mad, his frustrations got the best of him and he acted out on them.

They didn’t belong here. They were horrible in the water, they looked like newborn babies taking their first swim, and don’t forget they were five-fingered freaks with demon blood.

“Ao’nung!”

Speak of the demon.

Ao’nung ignores the calls of his name and continues to stare off into the distance. The voice only grew louder until his view of the water was blocked by a pair of legs.

“What do you want now? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He groans in annoyance at the boy.

“Busy doing what? You were just sitting here?-“

“So what?! I like to stare at the water! Got a problem forest boy?!”

“What?- no! That’s not why I’m here! Have you seen (Y/N)?” Neteyam shakes his head trying to go back to the main reason he went all over the island looking for him.

“(Y/N)? No……why?” Ao’nung questioned back with a glare. Why was Neteyam asking about his best friend? What’s it to him anyways…

“Well her mom just came up to me and said she hasn’t seen her all day and was getting worried,” Neteyam exclaimed and glared back.

“Well, the last time I saw her we were….” Ao’nung paused as he thought back, The last time he saw you was when they left Lo’ak, but you couldn’t possibly have stayed behind right?

No that’s definitely something you would do. You were too nice for your own good.

“I think I know where she is….but you’re going to get mad” Ao’nung mumbles while looking away.

“Well?….” Neteyam threw his hands up, tired of him dragging this out longer than it should’ve been.

“Outside the reef…where we left Lo’ak..” he hesitates mid-sentence afraid to tell Neteyam that he and his friends left his brother outside the reef.

“You did what?! Are you serious? You know he’s not allowed out there in the first place! What were you thinking!” Neteyam screamed grabbing ahold of Ao’nung by his shoulder. He was furious now.

His brother is somewhere outside the reef? And to make it even worse so we’re you? What if you guys were hurt?

“I know! It was a stupid decision… What do we do now?”

“We go and tell my dad. Let’s go.” Neteyam grabbed Ao’nung’s arm pulling him to follow along.

“No! I’ll get in trouble I can’t!” Ao’nung tries pulling away, but the grip on his arm was too strong.

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before you did that huh? They could be hurt right now…or even worse dead.”

dead.

Ao’nung stopped pulling and gave up letting Neteyam drag him to go tell his father.

Regret was all he was feeling right now.

The eclipse has come and the skies that were once bright and blue now lay dark and filled with twinkling stars.

You had asked the Tulkun if they could take you guys back to the village and they were willing to do so.

You were laying on the Tulkun's back spacing out staring at the stars and listening to the waves crash against each other. It was such a calming thing that people took for granted. Never take the time to stop and appreciate pandoras beautiful nature.

Lo’ak was standing on his fin while telling stories. “You know, my dad came from a star….that one!” He pointed up in a certain direction.

“Lo’ak! (Y/N)!” The calls of your names were shouted out followed by the yipping of your people. They had sent a search party out looking for you guys.

“Oh man I’m in trouble, (Y/N) we gotta go!” He grabs your leg shaking you to get your attention.

“Go! We will see you again!” Lo’ak sloppily signed to the Tulkun but they managed to understand what he was saying.

You slide off into the water next to Lo’ak and you both watch as he swam away, once he was out of sight you grab Lo’ak’s arm and quickly swim to one of the canoes nearby calling out to them to pick you guys up and soon you were both taken back to land.

The sound of your village's horn rang through your ears, signaling to everyone you guys have been found.

Everyone crowded around including Ao’nung and his parents. You could see their eyes soften once you came in sight, their eyes trailing over your figure.

“(Y/N)…” Ao’nung quietly said your name with a sorry look on his face. You only said nothing but a quick half-smile before diverting your gaze away.

“‘itetsyìp!!” A familiar voice shouts out to you as people made way for them as they pushed through.

“mom…” you whimper out and run into her open arms, tears began to fall from your eyes. She could only hold you tight and whisper comfort words while thanking Eywa that her daughter was brought back safe and sound despite a few cuts here and there.

Lo’ak watched Ao’nung with furry as he began walking up to the boy about to give him a piece of his mind but got stopped by his father.

“Hey! Let’s have a look at you!” Jake said and searched all over his son's body looking for wounds. “He’s fine! He’s fine, just a few scratches!” He tells the people crowding around.

Although Jake was furious as well, he didn’t want to cause any problems and take the chance of having to leave finding shelter somewhere else.

Neytiri makes her way past everyone, before giving a quick apologetic glance to you and your mother, then makes her way to Lo’ak.

She takes a sharp inhale while looking at her son, glad he was okay but mad that he had made her worry so much. “I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyes out of my youngest son!” she says baring her teeth with her ears pulled back in fury.

“No, My son knows better than to take him outside the reef,” Tonowari interrupts putting a firm hand on his son's shoulder and giving him a scolding glare. Oh, Ao’nung was gonna get it when he got home alright.

Tonowari forces Ao’nung to kneel in front of Lo’ak to apologize. “The blame is his.”

“Okay..” Jake said a little weary but glad no fights started. He gives Tonowari a nod before telling his family to get going, But Lo’ak stayed there still staring at Ao’nung.

“No. This is not Ao’nungs fault…this was my idea” He tells the Olo’eyktan. His words catch your attention as you pull away from your mother with a confused look while wiping your eyes. What was he saying? It was all Ao’nungs fault - completely.

“Ao’nung and (Y/N) both tried to talk me out of it…really..”

Tonowari and Ronal share a glance, pulling Ao’nung to stand up again once the Sully family leaves.

“Ao’nung, is this true?” He asked his son while Ronal was already scolding.

“Yes…” Ao’nung could only mumble out, surprised himself that Lo’ak said that.

You currently sat in the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk hut, getting your cuts treated by Ronal as she rubs the paste in your cuts, hisses leaving your lips from the sting.

“I apologize, sweetheart, I have to make sure the medicine gets in completely to make sure it won’t get infected.” She looks at you with eyes softened.

Ronal had thought of you like her other daughter, her and your mom were best friends so she practically helped raise you with your mother. When she heard about you missing she was so worried and very disappointed in her son that he would do such a thing.

“It’s okay aunty…” you tell her while looking away trying to find something to distract you from the pain.

You watch as the door opens and Ao’nung walks up to you with his head down, you let out a sigh looking away from him still upset at what he did.

What Ao’nung did was highly inappropriate but you knew he did not mean for things to go to that extreme. That was never his intention and you knew that. He was a good person despite his harsh personality.

Ao’nung let out a shaky sigh before getting onto his knees and bowing down with your hand to his forehead spitting out apologies for what he did and how he knew it was wrong.

“Ao’nung, it’s okay I forgive you…Now get up your making this awkward please…” you began to feel embarrassed as shake your hand that was in his grasp trying to push him and pull away at the same time.

He got the hint and sat up scooting a bit backward. “I really am sorry…I should’ve checked to make sure you were behind us”

“Well….Actually…I won’t forgive you.” You plainly say while holding back a smile, watching as Ao’nung’s face contorted into a sad frown almost looking like a kicked puppy. (what would be the Na’vi version of that? Idk)

“What? But you just said you did!?-“

“I’ll only forgive you if you collect me some more shells…the ones at the bottom, you know the shiny blue ones” you cut him off with a smirk before letting out a hiss in pain.

“Sorry sorry! This one’s a big cut” Ronal apologized with a laugh following as she listened to you talk to her son.

The boy lets out a frustrated groan. “Fine deal. Now do you forgive me?” he says hopeful, but was not happy about having to collect the shells. The shells that you wanted were rare and hard to find so this was gonna be tough finding them, but hey..if it meant you forgiving him for something that was terribly wrong to do, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Besides Tsireya, you were like a little sister to him. You both grew up beside each other and he was the one to get you out of your shell (sorta).

When you were younger you didn’t talk at all, practically mute from being so shy but after a while of having one-sided conversation with you, you were finally able to get comfortable and warm up to the boy answering back.

He also made it his duty to protect you and Tsireya making sure you guys never got hurt…so when this happened it broke Ao’nung knowing this was his fault and he had failed to keep you safe as you were sitting here in pain getting your wounds cared of.

But after talking with Lo’ak before he came to the hut to see you, he realized they weren’t as bad of people as he thought.

He was willing to give them a chance.

sorry to the people who I couldn’t tag

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @k----a27s @ssc7514 @yeosxxx @tejas-kris @mashiromochi @mayhemories @komicoral @in-luvais @sloppierjewel @lil-iva @jkeluv @dazecrea @amortencjja @amerieee @dumb-fawkin-bitch @liluvtojineteyam @iikatsukii

[persphonesorchid]

Mark Of The Arcane || Chapter Five ||

↣ Summary; Centuries before, in the times of the ancient Kings, a prophecy was heard. When the three kingdoms of Valerem fall to ruins, their saviour would come in blinding starlight. Who is this saviour, you may ask? None other than Min Yoongi, who was too busy being late to work to realize he definitely wasn’t on earth anymore.

↣ Part: Chapter Five: Yoongi vs The Force

↣Word count: 7.4k

↣Warnings: Namjoon scares the shit out of everyone, Seokjin is uh...mean...(but he'll get better soon!) Mention of off-screen character death. I think that's all! :)

Chapter Archive | Masterlist

Notes: Okay so this took forever, i'm so sorry! But I'm back with a new chapter! Lots happening here! And Tae's here :)) I hope you guys enjoy it despite the wait! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think!! Love yall ❤️

You follow behind your father’s guard, watching the way his cloak sways with his steps. You’re a little worried about leaving Yoongi with Seokjin, you’re aware that he isn’t very fond of him, whatever his reasons for that are. You just hope they’d get along well and long enough for you to meet with your father and return. 

“Do you know why my father sent for me?” You ask, your voice bouncing along the walls as you enter a stairwell. The guard’s steps are soundless as he takes them, and it reminds you of the skill it must take for them to protect the king. 

The guard glances back at you as he places his palm on a mahogany door and pushes, letting you go through it first. “I don’t, Highness. Though, it may have something to do with the festival.” 

You smile at the lisp in his words, the edge taken off him and softens his visage to you. The King’s guards are known for their stoicism and the fierceness in which they protect the king, but there are little things that remind you that they’re just people.

You nod as he resumes his pace in front of you. “Would your mother be attending?” 

“She never misses it, Highness.” You could see the lift of his cheeks under his mask and the way his eyes squished, his gaze soft in the morning light. 

You’re surprised your father hadn’t called on you earlier to discuss the festival, with it being your turn this year to do the rites. The Arcane Awakening Festival was an annual celebration of the royal family’s heritage and The First of their wielding, Incra. There was so much to do in the coming weeks, but so much has been happening beyond the walls of your kingdom you’ve hardly been able to focus on it. You hardly think it’s time to have a celebration in the first place. 

The buzz may have died down about the siege of Daasir, folks moving on as though people hadn’t been killed and had their livelihoods disrupted, but you remember. You suppose, because it has nothing to do with them, it was easy to let it slip from their minds. Daasir was a good day away, but regardless, on the doorstep of your kingdom. They deserve as much courtesy as any other folk that reside in the capital. 

Your father knew of it, and you’re pretty certain the other kingdoms know of it as well. Something was brewing and it wasn’t at all a good thing. 

You enter the King’s Hall, tapestries of navy blue and silver line the walls and run along the floor in a thick rug. Your escort stops at the entrance, opening the door for you one last time. 

“Thank you, Yeosang.” You say politely, dipping your head in a little nod, which he returns quietly. The door shuts behind you and you walk quickly up the hall towards your father’s chambers. You remember as a child you would chase the sun spots here, they shine down through the windows in the high walls, bright and warm. 

Your father’s quarters were on the opposite side of the castle, an unnecessary way away from the throne room in the main part of the castle, and as you’ve complained as a child, too far from yours. Sometimes, you could go days without ever seeing your father’s face, as when he’s too busy, he would take his meals in his chambers. Most of his official business happens in the Court of Houses, where he handles the political things that come with running a kingdom. When he’s not too busy, you would sometimes have breakfast with him in the private dining hall.

The last time you saw him was the night you had dinner in the hall and told him of Yoongi.

You stop at his door and knock gently and only enter when his voice calls. 

Your father looks tired. There’s a darkness under his eyes that wasn’t there the last time you saw him, and you’re pretty certain he’s gone more grey in his beard and the streaks of his hair. 

The King’s quarters consists of three rooms. The main room in the entrance, which acts as an office when meeting with official people unofficially. The large window directly behind him sprinkles his visage in a soft morning glow, the sun isn’t yet on that side of the castle to let the light in. There are shelves of books and tomes and things he’s never let you get close to, and the large table he keeps his things on in a state of organized chaos. 

Behind a door between the bookshelves are his bedroom, and beyond that, a room you’ve never been allowed to enter. Your father barely looks up from what he’s reading, a feathered quill in his left hand as he scribbles away onto another piece of parchment. 

You would like to think that the shadows of his face come from thinking too hard, looking for solutions to stop the war that is likely brewing on your doorstep. Of course, crime isn’t non-existent, it happens, it’s always no more than a man avoiding his taxes or something miniscule. Never on that scale, never something like that. 

Yoongi’s arrival should have spurred some kind of worry in your father at least, but when you told him how he’d ended up here and his arcane, he’d simply stared at you blankly, like he was suddenly somewhere else.

You stand quietly and wait until he’s done, eyes roaming over the portrait of your mother that’s hung on the wall. Despite its position and years of taking in the sun, the colours remain vibrant: the blue of her dress and the accents of it in her jewelry, the gentle smile on her lips. A much younger version of your father stands next to her, a hand on her shoulder and the other behind his back, dressed in his regency. He stands tall and the worries of a king had not yet seeped into his visage.

The King finally raises his olive eyes to meet yours, a gentle smile lifting his bearded cheeks. 

“Ah, Dearest.” He pushes back his chair to stand, rounding the table to take your hand and give it a light squeeze. “Have you had breakfast?” 

Admittedly, you hadn’t. Too excited to meet with Yoongi and show him around this morning, so you shake your head and your father frowns a bit. “That won’t do, little gale.”

You smile fondly at the nickname, and your father links his arm with yours and leads you out of his quarters and back down the hall. Yeosang opens the door before you both reach it, letting you both pass through before bowing at the waist in greeting. Back down the short twirl of stairs and up the hall towards the main part of the castle.

You cast a glance back down the hall where you’d left Yoongi and Seokjin earlier, but follow on towards the private dining room with your father.

“How is the boy?” 

The question startles you, not expecting anything but talk of the festival from him.

“He’s alright. Adjusting.” You answer and your father hums and says nothing more of it. He releases your arm to push the door open, a hand against your back gently ushering you in. The table is already laden with food and drink, and you take a seat as your father pulls a chair out for you. It’s quiet as you both set your plates, you help yourself to scrambled eggs and crispy toast glazed in honey and two sweet eclipse berry tarts – ignoring the disapproving look from your father.

Your father fills his plate with sandwiches, thickly sliced meat spilling out of it, and you giggle softly at the boyish way he stuffs nearly half of it into his mouth. He chews slowly and you wonder if he’s getting it all with the big bite he took, he passes you a meat pie and a steaming cup of tea.

You couldn’t nearly have a go at everything on the table, even if the spread today looks to be most of your favorites. At least, you know that it wouldn’t be wasted, anything uneaten would go back to the kitchens and be divided among the servants if they wanted it. You eat quietly, and you’re licking honey glaze off your finger when your father clears his throat and sets his tea down.

“Y/n, we have quite a bit to discuss.” He purses his lips at you trying to catch the honey sliding into your palm from the toast and you’re reminded of yourself and set the toast down. He narrows his eyes just a bit, though you could see the amusement in his eyes. “The festival approaches, you’re preparing to do the rites this year, aren’t you?”

“Yes Father.”

Your father nods sagely, and you know secretly he’s happy he doesn’t have to do it.

Preparing for the rites is mostly you meeting with the elder scholars and going over what must be said and how it must be said on the night of the festival, as well as learning a special stepped dance that you must do before saying anything at all. It’s quite tedious.

 “There is a chance that Lady Aurelia would be here as well – small chance – but we should be prepared for it nonetheless.” You nod along, dusting the flakes of the tart off your fingers, “Lumina is far away, if she does come for the festival , she would likely be here a day or two before it.”

Everyone is usually invited to the festival, though, you’ve never seen the Queen of the pixies in attendance.

As the King goes off into listing protocols for the day, you cut him off as politely as you can. As much as you’d love to sit and discuss it, the festival is some good weeks away, near a month, and there are more pressing things that could be talked about right now. “Father...”

“Yes?” He pauses, brows raised.

“About what happened at Daasir...”

Your father’s eyes darken, “What happened isn’t any concern of yours.”

“Father, it’s my concern as much as it is any one else’s. They’re my people too.” You fire back and watch as all your father’s patience drain out of him with the sigh he lets out. The hand on the table visible to you curls around the thumb, and he looks away, staring off into space for a moment. With him quiet, you continue on.

“I don’t understand why you’re trying to sweep it under the rug and act like it never happened. People have died, the prophecy is unfolding and you’re worried about the festival --!”

 “Y/n!” Your father’s fist comes down on the table, rattling the dishes and rendering you silent. “Enough.”

A muscle under your eye twitches, and you fight the urge to defy him. So you sit and stew in your anger, holding his hardened gaze with your own.

“It does not concern you. I will not be having this conversation again.” He stares you down until you break his gaze, turning your head to stare across the room. “Continue your preparations for the festival. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You say softly, and it’s quiet for a moment. You know he hates it when you use his title, but you’re angry at the way it’s so easy for him to toss urgent matters aside. “Am I dismissed?” 

He doesn’t answer and when you turn he’s already staring at you, looking fed up with your antics for the morning, but there’s something sad in his eyes that you’ll feel guilty for later. Perhaps when you’re older you’ll understand his plight as a King and father, but for now, you repeat your question and he sighs, waving a hand at you. You push your chair back, not bothering to tuck it back under the table before walking swiftly out of the room.

You walk down the hallway, grumbling to yourself all the way until you get through the little walkway that leads to the training courtyard. You go past the giant – ancient – oak tree near the entrance and round the wall just in time to Seokjin toss Yoongi over his shoulder. 

“Do you know how to hold a sword?” Seokjin asks as Yoongi follows him out into the blinding sunlight in the open courtyard. It seems to be a private training ground with nothing but the thick cobblestone wall that runs along the perimeter of the castle.

A large oak tree sits at the center, it’s really an odd thing and Yoongi wasn’t expecting to see it there, the dirt it’s raised in is surrounded by large stones that have funny markings etched into them. Some roots peak out of the dirt, rising above the ground before it dips back under, and Yoongi wonders how far and deep they run. In the ground around it, there are cracks and little blades of grass prevailing through the stone. 

On one far side of the courtyard is a weapons rack, they look to be for training purposes only, made out of wood, some of which are freshly polished and some are worn by use. They ranged from long swords to short blades, staffs that lean in a bundle against the wall, lances and shields. 

The other is a space split into two, one with dummies made of straw and wood, battered and bruised by the weather and use. The other is a space marked out by painted lines that – to Yoongi – looks like a Pokémon battlefield. There are stone benches against the fall facing it, which are probably for spectating. 

Seokjin unclasps his cloak, the material loosening from his shoulders with a little click, and Yoongi feels something like fear shoot up from his legs. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, taking a half step back from the other man. 

Seokjin smiles in a way that doesn’t actually ease Yoongi, but sends a nervous laugh bubbling up his throat in response. 

Instead of answering his question, Seokjin folds his cloak neatly and sets it on one of the benches, and unstraps the buckle that holds his sword to his hip. “Can you hold a sword?”

“No?” While Yoongi can hold a knife, he can bet it’s an entirely different story holding a sword. 

Seokjin nods, a look that shows that he expected that, but at the same time is unimpressed by Yoongi’s lack of defensive capability. Yoongi feels slightly offended.

“You can throw a punch then, right?” Seokjin rolls the sleeves of his tunic up his arms, “Know how to defend yourself?”

Yoongi nods and before he could confirm with his voice, Seokjin is moving faster than he could see him. He stumbles a couple of steps back as Seokjin closes in, barely lifting his arm to block the swing of the other man’s fist. The force and surprise of it has Yoongi tripping over his own feet and falling back on his ass with a grunt.

Seokjin sighs, looking down his nose at him.

Yoongi glares, “The hell’s your problem?” His arm throbs, and no doubt it will bruise later.

“Do you think that because your being here was foretold, someone would be around to protect you?” Seokjin tilts his head, and the little flicker of hope that Yoongi had this morning that he could possibly be civil with the guy smoked out. “You know what your prophecy says, don’t you?”

Slowly, Yoongi gets to his feet, still glaring, jaw clenched as he nods.

“Good, then you know that things are less than ideal. Learning the workings of your arcane isn’t the only thing you need to learn.” Seokjin takes a couple of steps back, “Your arcane is volatile,  you need to learn how to protect yourself without it until you learn how to control it. Her Highness asked me to help you in that regard, so I need to assess you.” 

Yoongi knows he’s right, there are ways to do things, though. Like maybe telling him all that before he charges at him like a madman. 

“You’re quick to block, so that’s good.” Seokjin widens his stance and then waves a hand at Yoongi, “Hit me.” 

“Huh?” 

“You said you can throw a punch; hit me.” 

Yoongi’s no professional fighter, but he can hold his own if he needs to – not that he ever had the reason to. Seokjin is intimidating standing as he is, clearly more knowledgeable than he is in the art of defense and offense. Yoongi tries not to let it show that he knows he’s going to be getting his ass handed to him wrapped and tied with a bow every time, as he copies Seokjin’s stance. Legs shoulder width apart, one foot just slightly in front of the other, arms up. He doesn’t miss the quick glance Seokjin gives or the near quiet huff of a laugh through his nose. 

He swings a fist, and realizes his mistake afterwards, when all Seokjin has to do is lean slightly to the side with more grace than Yoongi believes he’d ever possess, and jab a swift hand at his ribs. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise, but it aches nonetheless, and Yoongi still staggers back.

Seokjin rights himself as Yoongi does, humming softly to himself in secret assessment. “Again.” 

Yoongi tries again, after getting a moment to remove his cloak, too, and the result is the same, and despite the little chuckle that feels condescending, Seokjin seems to be taking his task seriously. This goes on for a while, with Yoongi throwing punches and Seokjin expertly avoiding them, while no doubt making mental notes, and Yoongi is quickly growing frustrated.

By the time Yoongi’s had it up to here with being on the defense, he’s panting and the tunic he wears is sticking to his back uncomfortably. Seokjin hasn’t broken a sweat, looking like the definition of put together and composed and that’s entirely unfair. 

“Are you sure you know how to throw a punch? You’re not even standing correctly.” Seokjin points a slightly crooked finger at Yoongi’s feet.

Seokjin might as well be training Yoongi to consider him his enemy because when he looks down, Seokjin darts forward again. Yoongi dodges and swings, and Seokjin easily counters by grabbing his arm and using his momentum against him.

There’s a rush of wind in Yoongi’s ears, the world blurs and then he’s staring at the blue sky. He lays there, catching his breath that was knocked out of him – trying not to pass out – and there’s a small sound from across the yard.

“Seokjin!” You rush over and Yoongi could see Seokjin roll his eyes, your form blocks out the sun that’s climbed higher in the sky and it makes you glow. The light weaves its way through your hair and dances along the outline of you, and Yoongi feels like he could reach out and grab it.

“Are you okay?” You ask, and Yoongi’s sure he’s red in the cheeks and he could only offer a thumbs up. 

You straighten up, turning to Seokjin fiercely, “Jin what is wrong with y—”

“I was assessing his skill!” Seokjin defends quickly and you swat at his arm. 

“That’s not what I saw!”

“Why would I just attack him?” Seokjin points a whole hand at Yoongi, who now was just laying on the ground, staring up at the sky like his soul is minutes from leaving this plane. “I was clearly on the defense!”

Yeah, right...

Yoongi sits up and dusts off his hands and he tries not to glare at Seokjin when the man offers a hand to help him stand. In your presence, Seokjin’s mood made a full one-eighty, suddenly acting as what Yoongi assumes is his usual self.

Seokjin gives him a once over, “Regardless, when I’m done you won’t have to worry.”

Yoongi isn’t excited to know what that means.

Later, Yoongi sits on the stone bench, feeling the coolness of the stone seep through his trousers as he leans back against the wall behind him. The shade of the oak tree offers him a small refuge from the midday sun, the dappled light casting shifting patterns across his lap. A gentle breeze stirs the branches above, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and leaves, but even this moment of calm can’t fully ease the tension coiling in his chest.

“Sorry about Jin,” you murmur, sounding almost sheepish on Seokjin’s behalf. “He can be… intense.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker toward you, his expression neutral, though inside, his thoughts churn. Intense barely scratches the surface. But instead of voicing his unease, he only nods. “It’s alright,” he says, his voice low and steady. He tells himself this is necessary. Seokjin is right, after all. If push comes to shove, he’d be helpless because he has no idea how to control his arcane. 

“I have to learn,” he adds quietly, almost as if he’s convincing himself.

You frown, your concern evident in the small crease between your brows. “Yes, but he doesn’t have to be such a brute about it,” you mutter, shaking your head. The irritation in your voice is clear, but Yoongi senses there’s more beneath your frustration. Your eyes flicker with something unspoken, but he doesn’t ask. He wonders what burdens weigh so heavily on a princess’s mind, but this isn’t the time for such questions.

Before the silence can stretch, Seokjin strides over, his cloak settled back over his broad shoulders, the fabric swaying with each step. He hands Yoongi his own cloak without a word, the gesture curt but not unkind.

The quiet is broken by the creak of the courtyard door opening, the sound echoing across the stone. A guard enters, his boots clicking sharply as he approaches. He stops a few paces away, bowing deeply at the waist.

“Your Highness, Prince Namjoon of Kadïr has arrived.”

Yoongi notices your brow furrow, the glance you share with Seokjin loaded with meaning, though it’s a conversation Yoongi is clearly not meant to understand. The door opens once more, and this time, another figure steps through.

The man who approaches exudes a calm, easy confidence. His steps are unhurried, yet there’s something purposeful in the way he carries himself. He’s dressed in deep shades of indigo and pearl white. His hair, dark and tousled, catches slightly in the breeze. There’s a smile playing on his lips—dimples forming as he greets you and Seokjin with familiarity; hugging you both.

Namjoon’s eyes turn to Yoongi and his smile falters, something flickering in his eyes.

“This is Namjoon,” You say softly, introducing him formally, “Prince of Kadïr.” 

“Don’t bow.” Namjoon says, raising a hand, his eyes crescent, and Yoongi hesitates, mid-motion, before straightening. Namjoon extends his hand instead, the same easy warmth returning to his expression. The breeze stirs again, warmer now, ruffling Namjoon’s hair as he waits for Yoongi to accept the handshake.

When Yoongi takes his hand, Namjoon’s grip is firm—steady, but as the handshake lingers, something shifts. The grip tightens, growing stronger, and then uncomfortably tight.

Yoongi frowns, instinctively pulling back, but Namjoon’s hand doesn’t let go. It’s as if the prince’s body has locked into place. Namjoon’s gaze, once focused and sharp, has gone distant. His eyes, a warm brown just moments ago, begin to cloud over, a milky hue spreading across his irises.

Namjoon’s grip was like iron. He isn’t sure what was happening—whether it was magic, or something far worse—but every second stretched unbearably. The warmth from the sun faded, the air around them growing thick. 

Yoongi’s heart pounds. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Seokjin greeted the prince like an old friend, and you—you seemed comfortable enough. So why are you both just standing there?

A sharp whistle pierced the air, so loud it sent a ring through Yoongi’s ears, momentarily pulling his focus from Namjoon’s vice-like hold. Seokjin moves swiftly behind Namjoon wrapping an arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight just as his eyes roll back. Yoongi watched in horror as Namjoon’s body seemed to go slack, but his hand—God, his hand remained locked around Yoongi’s like a lifeline.

The sudden limpness of Namjoon’s body made Yoongi feel as though he were gripping a corpse. The eerie calm of the courtyard, once peaceful under the shade of the oak, now felt suffocating, almost mocking. Even the leaves overhead seemed to still, as if nature itself was holding its breath.

Yoongi’s gaze flicked over to you. Your expression is a mix of concern and fear that made his stomach twist. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal.

Seokjin’s voice broke through the haze. “Yoongi, try to keep him upright,” he commanded, his voice steady but strained.

His legs felt weak as he shifted to try and help steady Namjoon, his hand still trapped in the prince’s vice-like grip. 

The prince’s eyes twitch behind his lids, his chest heaving in shallow breaths. Namjoon’s lips parted, but no sound escaped, only faint gasps, like he was drowning in air. Yoongi’s breath quickened in time with Namjoon’s, panic rising with each passing second. 

Suddenly, a dark figure swooped low across the courtyard—a flash of black feathers cutting through the tension. 

“Get Hoseok.” Seokjin calls, and his crow circles once, cawing before it darts off toward the castle, disappearing as it flies upwards and makes a sharp turn. 

“Hoseok will be here soon. Just hold him steady,” He mutters, as if the command would somehow ground Yoongi in this surreal moment.

Yoongi’s mind was a storm. He doesn’t know Namjoon, but the sight of him like this, slack and unresponsive, made his heart pound painfully in his chest. The world around him began to blur, the only sharp detail being the cold sweat forming on the back of his neck and the death grip on his hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yoongi finally found his voice, but it was shaky, laced with a fear he hadn’t intended to reveal.

“He’s having a vision, but…” Your voice was softer, edged with a confusion that only deepened Yoongi’s unease. “I’ve never seen it happen like this.”

Yoongi glanced at you, and the worry etched into your features struck him. You weren’t just concerned—you were frightened. That made it worse.

Time felt like it stretched on forever, the weight of Namjoon’s body growing heavier, his grip unwavering. Yoongi’s fingers began to tingle, and his palm was growing numb under the pressure. Then, finally—after what felt like an eternity—Namjoon’s hand slackened.

Yoongi almost falls backward, stumbling to catch himself as his hand is suddenly released, staring at the prince who now slumped entirely in Seokjin’s arms. Namjoon’s chest still rose and fell, but his face was ashen, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.

With a bit of effort, Seokjin moves him to the bench. 

“Namjoon?” you whispered, kneeling down beside him, your hand hovering over his pale face as if afraid to touch him. But Namjoon remained still, unconscious, his expression twisted as though whatever he’d seen was still gripping him, haunting him.

Yoongi rubs his sore hand, his heart still racing. He couldn’t shake the image of Namjoon’s clouded eyes, the way they’d rolled back, as if something had ripped him away from the present and hurled him into some nightmarish vision.

Hoseok comes barging through the doors not long after, white cloak billowing behind him with his hurried steps. 

“What happened?” He kneels beside the bench, checking over Namjoon with a calmness only a healer could manage. 

“Not sure, he was fine one minute, shook Yoongi’s hand the next and went rigid.” Seokjin explains. 

Hoseok nods quietly and reaches for a leather pouch at his hip. He rummages for a bit, and pulls out a small bottle with a wooden stopper. “Jin, hold him, please.” 

Seokjin gently shifts you out of the way, and you move to stand next to Yoongi, wringing your hands in bouts of worry. Seokjin puts his arm over Namjoon’s chest, and the stopper comes out with an audible pop. It must be some sort of smelling salts, because Namjoon’s eyes immediately pop open when Hoseok holds it under his nose. 

They’re brown again. 

Seokjin’s arms over his chest stopped him from springing up too wildly. He takes a deep breath and pats Seokjin’s hand before he sits up slowly. 

“Thank you, Hobi.” He says, and he waves a hand when you ask if he’s alright. “Fine, I’m fine.” 

He looks around, as though he’s not quite certain where he is and then sighs. Everyone is looking at him with the same tense, worried expressions. 

“I’m alright.” His eyes find Yoongi’s and he looks away, “Waking Vision.” 

“Has it ever happened before?” Hoseok asks, as he puts the stopper back into the bottle. “The entire servant’s quarters heard Igni cawing a storm.” 

From somewhere above in the oak tree, Seokjin’s crow let out what can only be described as an offended caw. 

Namjoon shakes his head, “No, this is the first. I don’t...” he falls silent and then shakes his head as if to rid it of thoughts. “Sorry about that, I must’ve scared you all.” 

“Namjoon is a seer.” You say softly to Yoongi, and then, gently take the hand that Namjoon had been holding tight to, “Does it hurt much?” 

“Not really.” Yoongi’s lying, he’s fairly certain something’s broken, if not badly bruised. There’s worry on your brow again, “I’m okay.” 

Namjoon shuffles a bit, pulling a small book and a pencil from the pocket of his trousers. Hoseok comes over to check Yoongi’s hand and tells him he’s fine, and you go back to berating Seokjin for earlier ⁠— much to his chagrin — and the air is a little easier to breathe. 

After a while, Namjoon is led away to his room, and Seokjin to his duties and then it’s just you and him. 

You’re telling him about the upcoming festival, walking beside him as he goes back to his room. You don’t seem all too excited about it, even as you’re smiling, it barely reaches your eyes. 

“I’ll tell Seokjin to take it easy on you.” You pat his arm, and then clap your hands together, stopping. “Oh! Esther would like to start by this afternoon if you’re feeling well enough.” 

Yoongi just faintly remembers the motherly older woman. He hasn’t had a headache all day, so he supposes he’s okay for now. 

“I unfortunately... wouldn’t be able to be there...” You say, but grumble something else under your breath, shaking your head, “but you shouldn’t have to worry with Esther.” 

Yoongi nods, and looks down at his hands. He can only hope that it would be an easy thing to learn. He imagines that it’s easy for children here, as they are gifted from birth. It’s like being taken off the streets and put into a classroom with no prior education. 

“Okay.” 

After lunch, when the sun was at it’s peak, and Yoongi had just finished filling his tummy with braised fish, white rice and some sort of sweet fruit, Esther came knocking. 

She leads him down to the servant’s quarters and then through a door that leads to the back of the castle. It’s a wide open space, off to one side is a couple of posts with lines strung between them, a young man throwing white cotton sheets onto them. A gaggle of children kick around a ball, darting between the clotheslines and other adults. One of the boys laughs mischievously, and out of his hands spews an arch of water, the other children squeal as they avoid it. 

Within a fenced area, two women kneel, one with her hands in soft, upturned soil, and the other grinding something in a mortar. They chat softly, laughing to themselves. There’s sprouts of different vegetables, and small herb plants coming out of the dirt. 

Under the shade a small pergola, two older men teach a small group of kids how to weave a basket. They show them a simple way that their little hands can manage, and Yoongi’s heart goes out to the little girl who looks like a fish out of water. 

Everyone greets Esther as she passes by. 

They go through a wooden gate and beyond the wall is a field of wild grass and a forest edge in the distance. There’s a well trodden path that Yoongi follows Esther down, letting the tall grass slide through his fingers. 

There’s a clearing, barely any grass in the spot, and Esther tells Yoongi to sit. He sits cross legged and she does the same, smiling gently at him. 

“Her Highness told me your circumstances, so firstly, we’ll focus on feeling your arcane first.” Esther says, “Close your eyes and take a deep breath in.” 

Yoongi does as he’s told, letting the air expand in his chest, he listens carefully to what Esther says. 

“Our arcane magic is deeply rooted in nature, it is in us as much as it is around us. Feel that magic. Feel it in the air, the dirt beneath you, the warmth of the sun.” 

For a moment, Yoongi doesn’t feel what she’s talking about. He simply sits there, breathing, listening to her words. Listening to the wind rolling over the grass, the strange and somewhat familiar call of birds somewhere far off. The breeze that blows is a lot cooler than the sun’s rays, it sends goosebumps rippling up his arms when it dances by. The dirt beneath him is warm. 

And Yoongi will spend a lot of time this way. In the mornings he meets with Seokjin for combat training, and in the afternoons, Esther for glorified yoga. 

Neither of which is going well for him. Granted, Seokjin doesn’t randomly attack him to gauge his skill and for now focuses on his defensive fighting. Outside of his training, Seokjin is slowly becoming easier to be around. Yoongi would go as far as to say he was being nice most of the time. 

Esther assured him that the process of beginning to learn anything about controlling his arcane isn’t an easy one. The only result he’d seen since starting with her was that his headaches stopped completely and he didn’t need to see Hoseok anymore. 

It’s a week later when he starts improving. He’s sitting in the clearing, breathing the air, feeling the dirt, envisions himself as a filter as Esther had suggested one rainy afternoon. The magic around him flows in when he breathes, and circulates constantly. He has his ‘Lord of the Rings’ moment when he feels a slight tingle in his fingers.

“Esther?” Yoongi calls, eyes closed, and a furrow between his brow. His fingers are still a little sticky with honey residue from his earlier snack that Esther brought. He presses the tips of his fingers together, and then stretches them outward. “My fingers are tingling.” 

Esther is too silent, and Yoongi feels anxious enough that he peeks an eye open. He looks down at his hand and then excitedly back up at Esther. There, on the tips of his fingers are the tiniest specks of white light. They’re faint, barely there, but glowing. 

Esther claps her hands, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a proud smile. 

When Yoongi isn’t with Esther or Seokjin, he’s with you, in the library. 

The library was just as grand as he expected it to be; large glass windows and towering shelves filled with books. Although there isn’t much on his arcane, there’s a lot on arcanes in general. The books on ‘The Academic Study Of Arcana’ are huge dusty tomes that Yoongi is certain no one’s touched in a lifetime. 

The pages are delicate and he had a hard time trying to figure out how to turn them without damage. It took him days to get through the first section of the first book, which covers the ‘Historical Origins of Arcanes’ and he’s only scratched the surface of it. Necessary water he has to cross to further understand himself and this world he’s been apart of for the better half of a month.

You would sit next to him, silent as he studies, but would break things down for him in simple terms. He’s grateful for that. You’re away more than you’re present, stuck in your duties preparing for the festival. You would only be around for two hours if that many before you sadly slink away. But you’ve tried your best to be involved in Yoongi’s training. 

He’s met Taehyung officially, who is as eccentric as he is quiet. 

Through the tomes, Yoongi learned of Volatile Arcanes. Taehyung has the rare case of his magic intake is too much for his body to handle, and so, he wears a limiter. It’s a bracelet that sits snug on his wrist, made of silver and amethyst and imbued with pixie magic. Unfortunately, it only pulls some of the excess magic into itself, and it doesn’t stop Taehyung from being sick. 

Taehyung does have his good days, when he would sit and chat with Yoongi. He accidentally shocked him by poking his side to get his attention one day. Yoongi learned that day that Taehyung also wields a pure arcane. 

One day, the rain is pouring outside, pelting against the glass like bullets. The library looks dim, save for the lamps scattered around the place. 

Yoongi is sitting at the table, the tome he is reading is still open next to his hand, but he only feels sleep fogging his mind the longer it rains. You’re sitting next to him, cutting an apple into slices, and putting them onto a little plate, and Taehyung is having one of his better days. He looks brighter than Yoongi has seen him in a while, there’s colour to his cheeks as he talks animatedly. 

“Taehyung, you didn’t come see me this morning.” Hoseok’s voice travels from one section of the library, amongst the medical books. Yoongi can hear the frown. 

Taehyung sinks into his chair as though Hoseok could see him and he’s trying to disappear. Like a child scolded he mutters: “I was feeling okay today.” 

“Doesn’t mean you can skip your check-up.” Hoseok walks out from between the bookshelves. He sets the book he’s carrying down on the table, adding it to a growing pile. “Did you tell Jin the gems are cracking?” 

“I didn’t want to bother him...Daasir is really far, you know.” Taehyung grumbles. 

You slide the plate of apples over to him and  Yoongi shares a look with you as Hoseok looks stern. Taehyung clearly uses the apples as an excuse to not look at him, picking up a couple of slices to shove into his mouth with an over exaggerated hum.

“Taehyung...” He sighs, and then looks resigned, “I’ll let him know, and you can come see me later.” 

Taehyung hums non-committedly, and Hoseok purses his lips. He gathers up his books and says a curt goodbye, waddling out the library. 

You chuckle to yourself, “You know he’s scary when he gets mad, Tae.” 

Taehyung picks up another apple slice, nibbling into one corner with a shrug, his smile is adorably boxy, “He can’t stay mad at me, anyways.” 

The rain has finally held up, though it persists in soft, rhythmic drips from the ends of leaves and the sloped roofs of houses. The downpour has turned dirt paths into thick, clinging mud, and Ingrid carefully makes her way through Daasir, the sharp scent of wet earth and damp wood filling her nose.

She pauses on the edge of the dense forest, scanning for a path but finding none. Jimin is notoriously difficult to find. The forest itself seems to bend to his will, twisting and shifting to keep him hidden when he doesn’t want to be found. Even the trees appear to lean closer, their bark darkened with rain, their leaves trembling.

With a soft sigh, Ingrid steps over a large root. The forest’s chill seeps through her boots, and the overcast sky casts shadowed hues of green and gray, making it feel more like evening than midday. Daasir has yet to reclaim its luster, even though weeks have passed since the attack. The once-bustling town feels hollow; fewer merchants line the roads, and most businesses remain closed, their wooden signs hanging askew, darkened by rain.

It takes her a while to find the path—a fleeting trail that seems to vanish if she looks away for too long. Each step further blurs the sounds of Daasir behind her until all she can hear is the soft crunch of leaves, the squish of wet dirt beneath her boots and the occasional rustling of branches in the damp, dense air.

When she finally finds the elusive clearing, Jimin is there, his back turned as he tends to a patch of luminous blue plants that pulse faintly with magic. He doesn’t look surprised to see her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as she approaches.

“Hello, Ingrid,” he greets, his voice light. She bows respectfully, noticing the slight twitch in his brow as he watches her. “How do you always find me so quickly?”

Ingrid chuckles softly, though a slight weariness lingers in her tone. “I’ve lived long enough; I know all of your tricks.”

Jimin hums, straightening and brushing dirt from his hands. The earthy smell clings to him, mingling with a faint sweetness—a fragrance of wild herbs and honey. He gestures toward the door, and she follows him inside. This time, there’s a warmth in the air, the faint crackle of logs in a hearth she suspects he’s neglected for hours.

He glides forward, pulling the door that leads to his workshop closed. She watches as he opens it again, the staircase within curling upward instead of down, an enchantment only he could manage. She follows, feeling the cool draft shift to warmth as they ascend, the wood beneath their feet creaking in a way that makes it feel alive.

“You’re like a witch out in this forest, Jimin,” she remarks, watching his wings twitch slightly, casting faint shadows on the walls. He laughs, the sound carrying a brightness that feels out of place in the dim space.

Once at the top, Ingrid slips off her shoes, unwilling to track the wet forest into a space that looks so intentionally tidy yet oddly untouched. She notices an armchair in the corner with its messily folded blanket and an empty one inches away against the wall.

Jimin’s wings buzz faintly as he moves into the kitchen, busying himself with washing his hands and then setting a kettle on a heating stone. The light scent of tea leaves fills the air as he pulls some confectioneries from a cupboard, each preserved with magic and glistening faintly with the spell’s residue.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here for idle chat,” he murmurs, setting the kettle to boil. He places the small, glistening sweets on a plate and slides it across the counter, though he doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Ingrid takes a seat in the armchair against the wall, feeling its warmth seep into her as if the forest chill has no place here. “Perceptive,” she says, watching him closely. “This is important.”

Jimin’s light-hearted expression dims, his gaze drifting to the window, where the leaves outside tremble in a gentle breeze. The whistle of the kettle cuts through the quiet as he moves to pour the tea, his movements slowing as she speaks.

“You know Rowan was killed in the attack,” she continues, each word drawing his attention, his jaw tightening. “And you know what they were looking for. The records are safer in Lumina, and you’re the only one who can—”

“Ingrid, I’ve told you before. I’m not going back.” Jimin’s voice cuts in, and he sets the cups down with a soft but unmistakable edge. His eyes flash, revealing a rare vulnerability.

“This is a matter of life and death, Jimin.” Ingrid’s voice lowers, her gaze unyielding. “You know they’re too valuable to leave in Kadïr. You’d be helping more people than you realize.” She leans forward, her eyes steady, as though daring him to meet her gaze.

He clenches his jaw, staring down at the tea, the scent now oddly bitter. Outside, the wind stirs the leaves, casting shifting shadows over his face. She can see the conflict in his eyes.

He walks over and places the steaming cup in her hands with a finality, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness that settles between them. Whatever his reasons – he’s never told her, Jimin must understand. There are way bigger things afoot than his little game of runaway prince. 

Jimin swallows, his voice tight. “…Fine. I can have it arranged. But that’s as much as I will do.”

[Bold: can't tag]

Series tag: @mssukeyna @purest-expressionofgrief @i-dont-give-a-fok @xyahrinx @3sriracha @loveyoongles @studiosakuras @amon-rei @freyawreya

[sonyanightmare]

This is a multi-fandom story I been working on and off on for a long ass time lmao!

But if your interested in me writing more of it, lmk pls, the encouragement helps a lotttt

(Things that are highlighted are mostly for myself to help keep in mind of the timeline and when/where certain events happen but yous can go by them too if yall want)

-Btw none of these images belong to me, credits go to original creators/artists-

Immortality vs Love: Which do You Choose

Keep in mind about the timeline era

Team Fortress 2 takes place in 1968, and the storyline extends up to 1972.

Cold War: March 12, 1947 – December 26, 1991

Tf2 started and ended in the middle of the Cold War according to the actual historical event and the game itself: TF2 official comics help know what happens

Random storyOc x Sniper           +18 content: includes possible sexual themes, detailed gore, etc., multi-alternate universe crossovers (cringe-worthy)

!Read at your own risk!

(most likely going to be an unfinished story anyway, haha)

More research to one of few of my main OC story timelines where she takes place during the Vietnam War/Cold War, so that some characters will come from the Call of Duty franchise, specifically the Cold War.

• TF2: 1968-1972

• Historical Vietnam War & Cold War: Vietnam; 1955-1972 CW; 1947-1991

• Call of Duty Cold War/Vietnam War: 1968(during both wars)-1980s (atomic Bomb tensions) might be mentioned

Love Over Immortality

“Ya bloody wanka!” Sniper had woken up from his nap to the feeling of his hat being taken off his face, where he had placed it to shield any possible shine from the afternoon sun.

The Aussie should have known better, for the only woman on their team would always do something like this to the Marksman. She and the Sniper were close, though their bond was so tight the rest of the Mercenaries were getting irritated that neither of the two made a move. It was obvious that they liked each other but damn the annoyance that the team even tried to help them get together, from leaving the two alone at the base while the rest went into town to mixing up their sitting spots at the dinner table so that they were sitting next to each other. But enough about the impossible couple to happen.

The woman that caught the Assassin’s heart was Sonya Nightmare, and it’s now the second year she has been with the R.E.D team. The team is close to her, although the team doesn’t know her painful past and secrets. They were so close to her, yet they knew little to nothing about her. That doesn’t stop her from enjoying as much time with them as their mortal lives will allow.

Sniper had gotten up from the chair he was napping on as he saw Sonya look at him with that adoring smile as she placed her free hand on the wall side where a door could be. With the other hand that held his hat, she teasingly shook it behind her back as she turned the corner and ran, hearing the familiar sound of boots clicking the wooden floor as they ran towards her, not even close to catching up with her. She giggled the whole way, turning corners sharply as she let Sniper catch up to her now and then, looking back to see a tripping friend trying to do those sharp turns. This continued until she arrived at the destination of her choice; it was Snipers’ tower. Sonya thinks she has lost Sniper, so she climbs the ladder to try and hide her cornered self. But the sound of those boots was getting louder and louder. She backed up as much as possible, hitting her back on the small table in the shadowy corner.

The window nearby may be boarded, but it gave off enough lighting in the room to see a possible shadow below if the sun was high enough. The Sniping from the window was perfect from enemy fire. But the two were in danger because they ran outside the base and into the battlefield, on their side at least; who knows if neither their Spy nor the B.L.U enemy Spy was near.

Sniper finally made it up the ladder, plastering a playful but sinister grin on his handsome face. Sonya played around with her bottom lip as she giggled with a speck of pink that was dusted on her face. His forehead was littered with scraps of sweat, and his breath was raspy; he must have been exhausted chasing her throughout R.E.D’s side of the battlefield.

“You’re a real pain in me arse, love.” Sniper led out a breathy response as he walked long strides toward Sonya. Biting her bottom lip with a smirk, she backs up as much as she can, hat still in both hands behind her back.

“Am I too much for you to handle, Mundy sir?” 

“Ya know bloody well you are, Shelia.” Sniper was almost chest-to-chest with Sonya, her question lingering in their small space. Standing straight, Sonya was only an inch or two shorter than him, but he didn’t seem to mind as he tried to distract her by leaning dangerously close to her face. She’s seen this trick before and got out of the mini trap she was in, and the marksman was playing a game of ‘try and catch me as the long-haired woman and himself chased each other around the sniper towers’ space. Finally, Sniper caught her and pinned her to the boarded window, not realizing their position.

Mundy had pinned Sonya’s wrists with the left on top of her left and his right on top of her right, his chest touching her slightly arched back, and his private area sat firmly on her curvy bottom. Sonya’s hitched voice made him realize their awkward position, but he didn’t say a word to her. They looked at each other for a moment, Sonya breaking contact first as she quickly looked down, then back to him, then to his slightly chapped, parted lips. Without warning, Sonya arched her back, pressed her firm ass more onto his pelvis, and started to grind slowly and roughly. Letting out a deep breathy grunt, Sniper began to do the same and pressed up against her body. Both let out occasional moans as the man rested his head on her shoulder; neither looked at the other as they started getting rougher in their grinding. Mundy let go of one of her wrists and placed his now free hand firmly on her hips, Sonya reaching around and holding his neck as she leaned back and went directly onto his ear, letting him hear her delicate moans more clearly.

Mundy then let go of her other wrist and onto the other side of her hips, forcing her to grind more. Mundy started to lightly kiss and lick at her neck and earlobe, causing her to let out more shaky breaths and moans and hold onto one of his hands that grabbed her hips, dropping the hat. He made Sonya turn relatively fast, almost impatient. He lifted her, her back against the boarded windows, and they continued to grind on each other, a prominent bulge causing friction between the two of them, creating a symphony of moans. Their faces were close, but neither pulled the other closer, letting their hot breaths run all over their flushed faces. Sonya grabbed Mundy’s vest and pulled it off him as he carried her to the small table not far from them. Sonya was laid out for him as they grew closer to one another’s faces; her struggle with his belt left him in a breathy laugh, and he started to take it off. The belt was off, and the pants were loose enough on him that they were beginning to slide the faster they ground. Sonya grabbed the sides of his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her, and they could not stop staring into each other’s eyes. As Sonya was about to pull him in for a kiss, they were interrupted by none other than the Engineer himself.

“Sniper Sonya, y'all up there?” Mundy almost ignored him and was about to kiss her, but she stopped him by placing a singular finger on his lips. He knew Sonya was too kind-hearted towards the Texan to ignore.

“Y-yeah, we are Dell. We’ll be down in a moment.”

“Alrigh’ then darlin’. All I wanted was to know ‘cause dinner’s ready.” The sound of his boots distancing from the two started to fade.

“Bloody hell Sonya, that was too close. I’m sorry, love.” Mundy finally spoke as he grabbed his belt, then the vest and hat.

“Oh, do not worry yourself, Mundy. It will pass by momentarily, so do not be so paranoid.” Mundy was confused as he watched her fix her silky, smooth black hair and set her kimono. She had already finished going down the ladder as she waited for Mundy. Once he was down, they started walking towards the home base as they walked and chatted the whole way to Dell’s delicious dinner.

Sonya had always been such a mystery to Mundy, the whole R.E.D and B.L.U teams. Coming to the hidden base in the mountains without a record of any sort, she’s a ghost to them. All the team knows they are the slight hints she says in her stories or when she was a part of some critical and dangerous military group (must be Special Forces, they all thought). Spy could not find even her military records, nothing under a Codename Altair or her actual name, anything! All the Frenchman found were photos willingly taken with a specified group, the time during Vietnam, but that war is still ongoing. Even if they have a lead from Spy, how would they know where to look for one of these two men? One looked rough and beaten but still could kill, and the other, despite all the cuts and dirt, had slick black hair with the eyes of a sharpshooter. Only one person knows, and she sits right next to their Marksman at the dinner table.

Dated flashback; 2 years, seven months ago

Day 1 at R.E.D

The car ride to base was quiet, even a little too soft for Ms. Pauling's taste. Now and then, Ms. Pauling would look from her driver’s seat to the woman in the passenger's seat, wondering if she should say anything. Being a woman experimenting with relationships, she wasn’t sure if what she was feeling towards the woman in the kimono was a little crush or something else. Ms. Pauling wasn’t sure what her increasing heartbeat was from, to begin with, not from the tense atmosphere or from the attractive woman that sat next to her.

“So, Ms. Pauling.” Sonya started, breaking the silence.

“Oh, uh, yes, dear?”

“What is the team like?” Sonya turned her head from the window to look at the woman in purple.

“Well, from what you told me, you’re used to being the only woman on a team, right? So this is a mercenary group of men.” 

“Hmm, so nothing new I have to worry about then,” Sonya said, smiling kindly toward Ms. Pauling.

When the woman in the driver’s seat looked at Sonya, she couldn’t help but blush at how kind she was, especially when she smiled so nicely.

The drive was quiet as it was long, and even the small conversations were still awkward, but it helped the two become closer, hopefully in a future friendship.

“So, Ms. Pauling.” Sonya started as she looked over at the woman in purple.

“A-ah er, yes, what it is?” Ms. Pauling responded, looking at her with a smile and then back on the road, awaiting her question.

“What are these men like, might I ask?” Sonya questioned, looking outside through the driver’s seat window to avoid the awkward silence lingering in the vehicle.

“Well, most are foreign men. I should warn you if the accents are too much-” Ms. Pauling started ”-One comes from Russia, the deep snowy mountains; one’s a German medical scientist; one comes from Boston, the marksmen come from Australia, and the last is a french man who’s stealth is as skilled as his flirts for women -womanizer- that you should try and avoid, in my opinion.”

“Ah. A German Scientist and a French Spy?” Sonya sounded irritated and almost displeased when she looked at the woman in the passenger seat.

“Well, the German is nice, but he is sorta out of it- a psycho when on the battlefield, and the French man, he’s known for his actual skilled fighting compared to the others, and he can make you fall for such careless charms so please be careful around that one.” Ms. Pauling answered, sounding worried near the end.

Sonya smirked at the thought, “Oh, Ms. Pauling, please, I don’t fall for careless charms and those trying to earn my hand. Besides, you know very little about me; you have no idea what I’m capable of...”

_____

When the two arrived at the base, Ms. Pauling pulled their little truck into a small but perfect spot in the shade of the trees around them; Soya was greeted with the fog-like aura of nature. The sun settled low enough that the bottom barely grazed the distant mountains. The slight squeak of the car as the truck door reared opened and finally stepped out for a well-deserved stretch of relief. This base location was very different from the desert Valley one Sonya was for sure going to until he met with Ms. Pauling. 'Hardwood' was this locations name. It was a nice area, and Sonya was most for sure going to enjoy this future battlefield experience.

"Hopefully the team is waiting behind the volt doors for us; as I made it clear to them, by calling twice yesterday, they should be eager to introduce themselves to you." Ms. Pauling sounded a bit agitated at the 'calling twice' part.

'Must be something that happens often,' Sonya thought holding back a chuckle as she followed behind the woman in purple.

___

"Agh! How long we gotta wait for Pauling to get 'ere, huh?" Scout was walking around, waiting impatiently for the two to show up.

Spy then sighed in annoyance and shook his head, leaning against the wall a freshly lit cigarette rested between his lips. Medic was seated on the couch trying to ignore the Boston man as well. Heavy was with Pyro, Demo, and Engineer in the kitchen helping set up a small variety of the food presentable for their new addition to the team. And the only other member of the team was most likely hiding away in his camper or room within the base that he basically never uses coincidentally right next door to the room their new Mercenary will be sleeping in. We'll not for a long while for the poor quarters is still under deep cleaning of useless stored items and decor, trying to find somewhere to put these items at.

"Zhe more jou complain, nerviges kind, Zhe more agitating jou get Scout." Medic was finally able to speak up after trying to make sure what he was going to say to their newbie about sleeping arrangements. He had the small Hospital beds in the Med Bay, he just hopes that will do for now.

"Well, what 're ya gonna do about it, huh, doc?" Scout taunted, spreading his arms out in a 'come at me stance' towards the German.

"Zhat's it!" Medic grabbed his bonesaw not far from where he stood and started at the Boston.

Scout was running and tripping around the room, dodging a few of Medic's swings and managed to trip just out side the exit area and startled the two women, Scout almost hitting at the bottom of Sonya's Kimono.

Sonya instinctively moved in front of Ms. Pauling blocking the commotion but nothing of danger happened other than the Boston man grunting on the floor from the impact.

Oks das it lol 🤷🏽‍♀️🙃😂🖤

[stillfertile]

YOU ARE RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!! PREACH!!!!!!!! WE ARE BETTER THAN STRAIGHT PEOPLE ABOUT SHIPPING BECAUSE WE KNOW NONE OF THIS IS REAL AND DON'T SHARE THIS WERE IRL PEOPLE CAN FIND IT! (okay most of us know it's not real and don't post where the irl people can see it; there's always someone...)

A girl toddler and a boy toddler will play nicely together and then their parents will be like tell them that they have a crush (and irrevocably mess up their world view and diminish friendships because of their need to ship their own toddlers -no i'm not projecting i definitely did not embarrass myself as a child because i believed that if i thought a boy was nice i had to be ready to get married to him, i would never, i'm definitely not still traumatized about it) and proceed to plan their wedding and talk about how their toddlers are clearly in love every time they hang out/are mentioned.

But also what even is "normal behavior" my cousin and her friend were holding hands and swinging them while at their swim meet and my cousin's grandma was like "are you seeing this? she's holding hands with a boy" to my aunt who was like "oh that's just [insert name of friend]" fully knowing that a) they really are just like that and b) that he is gay and not interested in my cousin.

My two friends in high school would hold hands platonically (both girls, both straight). People would also call their best friends their "wife" (almost always between two girls or two boys, rarely or never a girl and boy) being completely platonic and usually straight. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS "NORMAL BEHAVOIR" (ALSO THEY MEAN PLATONIC NOT NORMAL THESE ARE NOT SYNONYMS AND GAY AND NORMAL ARE NOT ANTONYMS PEOPLE!!!)

AGREE AGREE AGREE

like…. do yall think about how straight people in closed relationships are rarely allowed to be friends with someone of the opposite gender (unless they are related or gay). like thats CRAZY to me

when I was a kid I also had that experience of my parents teasing me about my friendship with a boy, it was super frusterating :(

I think what people need to understand is that: both sides do this. People project onto others and give them traits that mirror their own.

I feel like a lot more can be said on this subject, about the aroace spectrum, about how literally any action can be platonic (yes even sex), about how some people say “not everything has to be romantic” but they really mean stop making things gay, how other people say “not everything has to be romantic” because they want more platonic relationships in media no matter the gender, again THE AROACE SPECTRUM, ya this subject interests me a lot

conclusion: rpfers I love you, dont feel like youre erasing intimate platonic relationships when you ship same-gender people, the straights are no better at seeing everyone as straight. Please keep projecting your own traits onto characters/fictional-versions-of-real-people so that you can write the stories youve never read about your own identity.

(what anon is talking about if anyone else is reading this)

[prodigal-explorer]

YESSSS I HAVE SO MANY

alphys from undertale. shes such a unique character and i’m obsessed with not only her growth, but the way she navigates the world, her guilt and her shame mixed with her strong desire to help others around her. the way she’s constantly battling severe social anxiety because she’s determined to use her gifts to make the world a better place, but she has a bit of a dark side because she’s willing to lie and cheat to get where she wants to go. but sometimes, things just go too far, and she loses control over the things she does. it’s so tragic and she’s just so fucking interesting. also she was the first openly gay character i’ve ever interacted with in my life and she’s the one who introduced me to the lgbtq+ community so uh thanks girl! for being the reason why i know i’m gay!

aubrey from omori. idk why the fuck y’all be hating on her cuz she’s the realest character in the whole damn game. she has such strong core values and she never backs down from them, even when they hurt her or put her in danger. aubrey would rather be hurt and true to herself than perfectly safe and a traitor to herself or others. she comes off as so strong and sure of herself but she’s just a little girl who was abandoned multiple times throughout her life, desperate for someone to just BE REAL with her. her life was ruined by what the two main male characters that get all the attention from the fandom did. she lost the one person who truly understood her. and everybody around her had a support system but she had none. she acted out of desperation, she wasn’t a bully like a lot of people like to say. i’m not saying she’s perfect (lowkey i am tho cuz fictional men get free passes all the time so i think she deserves one too) but everything she did was completely justified by the heartbreaking fact that she was ALONE. all alone. she’s my blorbo and i’m holding her in my arms. stop fucking attacking her and then defending those two guy main characters and calling them uwu baby gay boys AUBREY DESERVES SOME OF THAT TREATMENT CUZ SHES THE ACTUAL VICTIM HERE. but y’all won’t give it to her cuz she’s a fucking girl.

mari from omori. WE ARE BACK WITH MORE OMORI WOMEN CUZ THEY CANNOT CATCH A BREAK WITY YALL TOXIC BITCHES. first of all let’s get this out of the way she didn’t fucking abuse sunny. y’all just made that the fuck up because you can’t handle the idea of women being innocent victims who did nothing to earn their tragic ends. it ruins the whole fucking point of the game if she abused sunny. okay now that that’s out of the way MARI IS AN ANGEL. she’s such a beautiful character, the way she’s so fiesty but also so gentle and sweet. she cares so much about other people, and she just is so fun-loving. she goes out of her way to make life SPECIAL and meaningful. everywhere there’s beauty in the world, mari sees it. shes my blorbo too she’s so precious and wonderful and she deserves everything. and she’s not just an amazing big sister or an amazing girlfriend. she’s an amazing PERSON. she’s so beautiful and she spreads so much light in every room she walks in she MEANS SO MUCH TO ME.

nao egokoro from your turn to die. she is deadass the best character in the entire game and it’s CRIMINAL that she doesn’t get the attention she deserves. and don’t be telling me that it’s because she died early on cuz JOU DID TOO AND YALL HAVE NO PROBLEM GIVING HIM ATTENTION. anyway, her growth is AMAZING. her journey is beautiful and engaging and i am obsessed with the way she eventually started to find herself in her adulthood and discovers the strong, capable, amazing woman she had always been. she cares so much about her friends, sara and reko, and she works so hard to repay them for all the times they helped her. she tries to shoulder burdens so that sara doesn’t need to. she’s so protective over the people she loves, not letting people badmouth them. and she’s just SO PRECIOUS. a beautiful painter who’s so emotional that she sees the whole world in the most vibrant colors.

sara chidouin from your turn to die. idk why she gets so much hate (oh wait i do know. she’s a GIRL.) cuz she’s actually the perfect main character and i haven’t encountered a more perfect main character since link from legend of zelda. sara is so uniquely designed to the point where she’s completely iconic. she’s the perfect balance of self-insertable main character and individual with a personality and life of her own outside the whims of the player. her personality is so interesting too! she’s reliable and trustworthy and has an insurmountable charisma, which is typically a trait that’s given to male characters but sara wears it so well. she’s such an amazing main character and she’s definitely one of the biggest reasons why i think the game is so successful. and she’s just COOL AS FUCK.

all this to say: FICTIONAL WOMEN ON TOP. yeah i get it you guys want uwu little baby gay boys blah blah whatever but DO NOT DRAG WOMEN JUST SO MEN CAN BE ON TOP. we get enough of that irl so leave my baby girls alone please and thank you.

favorite character from any media BUT it has to be a woman. in the tags now go (pls talk to me about your favorite fictional women pls pls pls pls)

[smallmxth]

Yknow what

Fuck it, ive had an irritating night being mocked and ignored so now im gonna be mocked and noticed lets go

/rp /dsmp im talking about the characters not the people

Dsmp character hot takes with Moth

-Dream deserves to suffer for all the pain he's caused and frankly im happy that he's miserable

-Im a bbh apologist. He's literally being mind controlled. Some of yall seem to forget that the main reason the egg js so powerful is because it can brainwash and mind control people

-Phil's not that bad of a character. He is a GRIEVING FATHER grappling with the reality of his son's crimes, he doesn't owe anyone anything, stop making him everyone's dad

-I dont blame the eggpire folks for anything

-Quackity being a capitalist to grab at power is a coping mechanism, he's always been powerless, he hates it

-Jack Manifold is a deeply hurt and conflicted character, come up with a better argument than "he wanted to kill a child" bc yall forgave niki fast as hell

-Techno's character is a person. By reducing him down to a war machine that is meant to stay within a strict ruleset you erase his experiences with betrayal. Hes not heartless, hes sick of being used

-JUST BECAUSE A CHARACTER DOES SOMETHING OUTSIDE OF THEIR NORMAL PERSONALITY DOES NOT MEAN THEYRE DOING A VILLIAN ARC

-By trying to categorize characters as "good" and "evil" you erase a core lesson of the dream smp

-The chances of wilbur ever getting redemption, or help, are slim to none. Dont expect him to be anything but destructive when he returns

-Quackity and Schlatts relationship was an important piece of Quackity's development and nobody talks about it

-Schlatt was right

-Stop assuming ranboo is always going to make sense, he is made to be contradictory

-Dont assume ranboo is always gonna be on the right side of history, there's a good chance he will join dream

-I love Puffy but she, as a character, doesn't do much but make promises she doesn't keep

-Tubbo was a bad president, was not fit to be president, but also didnt want to be president. What did you expect?

-Tubbos isolationist, militaristic values are a defense mechanism, because he has always been used as a hostage or bargaining token, he has the right to be weary of others

-Stop expecting all characters to grieve the same way

-Sam holds only partial fault for Tommy's death, and i expect him to spiral

-The Eggpire is the second most dangerous thing on the server besides dream

-Ranboo is likely going to be the person who breaks dream out

-Have I mentioned how quickly everyone forgave niki for trying to kill tommy, but keeps attacking jack, even though they had almost exactly the same reasons, and the only reason niki gave up on the assassination is because she was afforded the opportunity for a support system, and jack is dealing with all this on his own

-If i see any of you calling quackity heartless i swear to god-

-Tommy might not get better

-Wilbur's return will result in chaos, blood, and so much death. Im saying it again: The Old Wilbur is dead, and isn't ever coming back

-Sam is one of Dreams victims, nobody seems to think about how horrible being Dream's warden must be

-CHARACTERS NOT BEING OUTWARDLY EMOTIONAL DOESN'T MAKE THEM COLDHEARTED, IT DOESN'T MEAN THEY DON'T FEEL PAIN, IT DOESN'T MAKE THEM LESS OF A PERSON

-Sapnap and Dream's relationship is way too underrated, usually bc people favor dnf, which is incredibly irritating

And last but not least

-Dream apologists go to therapy, touch grass, stop forgiving a character that despicable, please

[too-gay-for-marvel]

love lingers on the sea pt.2

a/n: here’s part 2! nat will come on the scenes in part 4, so these are a bit of character building, but i still hope yall enjoy!

Word Count: 2,556

Warnings: none

Pairing: Natasha x Reader (eventually)

(that’s us)

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5)

Getting the creature back to SHIELD was easy; all she really had to do was point upwards and the creature had followed. There was a pained expression on its face when it surfaced, but then managed a smile again. There was something unsettling about it, but it still gave Peggy a warm feeling. Maybe she was just hopeful.

The submersible was hoisted back onto the ship, and Peggy stepped out quickly, eager to see if the creature would follow her or not. As she suspected, it did, pulling itself up onto the ship and standing a full head taller than her. Looking at it’s face, she could almost forget it wasn’t human.

But the way everyone raised their weapons when you took a step forced Peggy back into the proper situation.

“Stand down,” Peggy told them when she noticed the creature looking around anxiously. She lifted her hands quickly in surrender, and the creature mimicked her stance almost instantly.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I’ll have to object,” one of the men said quickly, his eyes glued to the creature. Upon further inspection, Peggy noticed his hands shaking.

“If it wanted to hurt us, it would’ve destroyed the submersible,” Peggy argued. “It’s hands are up and empty, put them down.”

“It’ll be in chains,” Colonel Phillips said. “I’m not risking some fish killing one of my men.”

“If you lock it up, we’ll lose trust,” Peggy continued, but Colonel Phillips was already ordering his men to put chains on the creature’s wrists and legs.

“I can work with that.”

He walked off as Peggy tried her best to give the creature a gentle smile, hoping it would listen. But it’s smile was gone, and it was looking at Peggy as if it wanted to run. And yet it stayed and put up no fight.

And Peggy stayed by it’s side the whole way home.

———

“Is this it?” Howard asked within moments of Peggy and the other agents escorting the creature to a holding cell.

“Yes,” Peggy said softly, walking up to Howard while the creature was being unchained. “It is.”

“Fantastic,” Howard breathed out. “A mighty god indeed.”

“It’s intelligent,” Peggy said.

“Is it?” Howard asked as they both turned to watch the creature.

It stood still as the men removed the chains, twisting this way and that to make it easier for them. One wrong move made an agent drop the chains, and the creature bent down to pick it up before handing it back to him, a lazy half-smile on its face. Meanwhile, the agents looked terrified, which seemed to make the creature’s shoulders shake and…

Was it laughing?

“I’ve gotta find out more,” Howard mumbled.

“Howard, wait,” Peggy urged, but he ignored her as he walked up to the cell anyway.

“Howard Stark, how are you?” He asked as he held his hand out to the creature.

It stood still, looking down at his hand with a tilted head. Only a few moments passed before it reached forward slowly to grasp his hand. The biggest smile took over Howard’s face once the creature shook his hand, which was then reflected on the creature’s face.

“I think you and I are going to be great friends,” Howard said quickly with a short nod.

The creature gave its own short nod in response.

———

“You need a name,” Howard said with a huff.

It had been two weeks since Peggy had brought the creature back to SHIELD, and Howard had been hosting test after test after test. Some of them were physical, some mental; Peggy wasn’t even the subject and she was exhausted. But the creature just kept going, performing far better than they ever would have expected.

“Just call it something and keep going,” Colonel Phillips said as he continued to walk past the lab.

“A miserable old man,” Howard said with a shake of his head. “No sense of curiosity.”

“Since when did you ever listen to him anyway?” Peggy asked.

“Never,” Howard said with a smile. “So where were we?”

“Coming up with a name,” Peggy offered as she pulled out a book from one of the numerous bookshelves in Howard’s lab.

“Right, a name,” he mumbled. “What kind of name?”

He put his hand to his chin as he shambled along in the lab, eyes drawn to an invisible spot on the ground. Pacing back and forth, around the creature, from wall to wall; it was incessant. The creature watched Howard’s every move, head tilted whenever he would mumble something to himself.

“What do you think suits you?” Howard asked the creature even though it had yet to say any actual words.

It just shrugged in return.

“Fisher,” Howard threw out, but the creature scrunched up it’s nose and made a face. “That’s a no.”

“Are you even a fish?” Peggy asked, and the creature shook it’s head.

“So fish-themed is out of the picture,” Howard said to himself. “Are you a carnivore?”

“I don’t think that would warrant any good names, Howard,” Peggy teased.

The both of them started throwing out names, ranging from ridiculous superhero names to simple ones like James or Susan. The creature had initially started giving feedback in the form of faces and gestures, but it eventually settled back in a chair, head in its hand as the list continued on and on.

“There’s got to be something we can-” Howard froze, his eyes glued to where the creature’s hands were located. “Gills!”

Peggy and the creature flinched at Howard’s excessive volume. He rushed forward to grab the creature’s hand, and it tried to move away but with a gentle smile from Howard, it stilled, letting him get close to the gills that it had previously been covering.

“We’ll call you Gills,” he said in triumph, and the creature was in thought for only a moment before smiling and nodding.

Now they had a name, and now the creature didn’t seem quite so foreign. Now to get the creature - get you - to talk.

———

“Think you understand the rules now?” Howard asked for the fifth time.

You looked down at the sheet of paper that had a visualisation of chess pieces and their respective moves. Why Howard had thought to teach you chess, Peggy had no clue, but he was determined. So he had been sitting there for hours, drawing things out, putting tactics, everything possible to attempt to teach you chess.

“It’s a pointless task,” Peggy called out from her spot on one of the couches. She had been listening to Howard talk for hours at that point, and she wanted him to just shut up.

“It’s a very important way to judge intellect,” Howard defended. “If they can get this down, they can take over the world.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Peggy called back as Howard started the game of chess with you.

Howard and Peggy started a conversation, talking about anything that came to their minds. Nothing of importance, just casual conversation; it was her favourite thing about the man. In the end, they were just telling stories about Steve.

“Didn’t Steve dress as a grandmother at one point?” Howard asked after moving another piece.

“Yes! He never properly explained why,” Peggy laughed.

“So America’s Golden Boy dressed as an elderly grandmother and didn’t explain why?” Howard continued, his own smile growing.

“No! That was the weirdest part! He just showed up and refused to explain!”

“But what could possibly make him think it was a good-”

“Check mate.”

Both Howard and Peggy froze at the foreign voice, neither looking back at you to confirm their suspicions. It was deeper than they had imagined, far too human with the slightest subvocals underneath it, giving the voice almost two different tones. Peggy’s eyes slowly drifted to where you were sitting.

You were hunched over the chess board, one hand rubbing your chin and the other hovering above the piece you had just played. A brilliant move, one that you shouldn’t have been able to pull off whether Howard was fully paying attention or not. The only way you would have been able to do that was…

“Am I right?” You asked, the subvocals sending a shiver down Peggy’s spine. “Check mate?”

“Yeah,” Howard said, pulling himself out of his stupor. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“You made the wrong play on your fifth turn,” you said, making eye contact with him. There was the slightest pull at the corner of your mouth. “Should’ve paid better attention.”

“That’s…” Howard started as he shook his head slowly. “You can talk?”

“Very well,” you nodded.

“Since when?” He continued, still completely starstruck.

“Since before you were born,” you said with a wink and a smile.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Peggy asked, but instead of answering you just stood up and patted Howard on the shoulder before walking to the door to your cell.

“I wasn’t sure I could trust you,” you shrugged. “Oh, and by the way, my name’s Y/N,” you said again before leaving the room, the door to your cell closing with a loud thud.

“I’m still calling you Gills,” Howard muttered to himself as his shoulders fell. “Played me for a fool.”

All Peggy could do was laugh.

———

“How would you feel about a mission?” Peggy asked you as she sat on the desk in your room.

You put your pen down and leaned back in the chair, eyes locked to hers. She was glad you had gotten comfortable on “the surface,” as you liked to call it. After you had beaten Howard at chess with no mercy, you had seemed to relax enough to talk and trust them. It had given them the proof and facts they had needed to be able to get you a real room instead of the cell down in the basement.

“Who would I go with?” You asked simply. Your voice had yet to cease sending a shiver down her spine, but it was no longer from fear.

“Johnson,” Peggy said with a nod. “He volunteered.”

“A volunteer?” You asked. “I thought he was suspicious of me.”

“He said he would give you a chance to prove you were with us,” Peggy offered.

“And kill me if I’m not,” you said with a sad smile.

Peggy offered you her own smile in return, not even bothering to try and tell you any differently. There was no hiding how little the others trusted you; they didn’t even hide it. She had tried to keep you sheltered for a while, but you were beyond intelligent. All it took was one wrong look from an agent and you knew all you needed to.

“And kill you if you’re not,” Peggy went ahead and reiterated.

“Sounds like fun,” you exhaled with a more predatory grin.

Whether she agreed or not, Peggy didn’t blame the agents for being cautious.

———

You stood in the clearing with your eyes glued to the helicopter that was in the process of leaving you behind. Johnson gave you a mock salute before getting back into his seat, and all you could do was shake your head. You knew he hated you, but never imagined he would have left you behind.

“Well fuck,” you mumbled to yourself once the helicopter was finally out of sight.

Think. What did Peggy say to do in case of an emergency? Stay put, that was number one. But if you could get to open water, you could just make your way back to London on your own, right? No, not right, you didn’t know your way through those streets.

Stay put it is, you thought to yourself as you took in your surroundings. To your left were woods so thick they gave you tunnel vision. To your right was more clearing and you could vaguely see the edge of a lake. You knew it wasn’t open water, but there might be food in there and at least you could keep yourself hydrated.

As long as you could stay hydrated…

With a shoulder dropping sigh, you trudged over to the lake. No doubt that would be where Peggy would look anyway, it was the safest bet. You would be hydrated, fed, and sheltered. It would take somewhere around 21 hours for Johnson to get back, probably another three or four before they could leave, and then another 24 hours to get back to the location.

You’ve been alone for longer.

The sun was starting to set when you decided to try and fish. You weren’t particularly hungry, but it wouldn’t hurt to fish while they were unaware. Kneeling down by the water, you reached your hand out above the surface and waited. Waited until you saw the shimmer of light on scales before plunging your hand in, nails sticking into flesh before pulling it up.

It was a decent size; not near enough for you to eat your fill, but it was a start. There were rocks in the water, you could just grab one and start scraping the scales off and maybe you would be able to start gathering properly. Scales, catch more, make a fire, cook the fish, survi-

A small voice had you turning around, fully prepared to attack. But you froze at the sight of three small children standing a few feet away. They looked like hell; cold, worn down, dirty, lost. Lost. They didn’t appear to be afraid of you, instead their eyes were glued to the fish in your hand.

“Hungry?” You asked. The odds of them understanding you were slim, so you kneeled down and held the fish out to them.

The kids stayed still for some time, long enough that you started to question if that was even what they wanted. Maybe they were going to turn you in; it wouldn’t be the first time. You were about to stand back up when the smallest of the three came forward slowly, eyes moving between the fish and your face.

You tried to give a closed-mouth smile and stretched the fish out further, and the kid looked at you for only a second before snatching the fish and moving back to the other two. They didn’t seem to know what to do with it. I’m going to have to cook for them, you thought to yourself with a sigh.

As you trudged your way to get firewood, you realised you were going to have to be a parent for a few days. At least you wouldn’t be alone while you waited.

———

“Are you hurt?” Peggy asked as she hopped off the chopper and ran to where you were standing.

“Dried out, but fine,” you huffed. “There’s some kids in the woods who need help.”

“Kids?” Peggy asked, and you nodded your head in the direction of the woods where the kids had started to hide out.

“We’ve been great pals for the past few days,” you shrugged with a small smile.

Peggy gave you a small smile before telling two of the agents to go get the kids and take care of them. She helped you up into the chopper and you all took off back to New York. You were excited to see Johnson again. Maybe you would go visit and have a little chat.

Then he could test his survival skills.

[rek1s-headband]

hello! First off, just wanna say your writing is amazing and gives me so much joy with how well you write the characters. Secondly, mayhaps a set of headcanons for poly!y/n with Langa and Reki or a cute date one shot?

➯ A/N: Hey! Thanks for the request, hope you enjoy:)

➯“Lady and the (two) tramps” poly date one-shot

➯ Characters: Reki Kyan x Langa Hasegawa x gn reader

i know it says “lady” and the 2 tramps but thats just cause yall act out a scene from the movie dw its still a gn reader

➯ Warnings: none:)

➯ Word count: 2K

You skipped down the stairs at the sound of someone enthusiastically knocking at your door. You could only assume it was Reki, he always picked you up before the two of you headed over to Langas, whose house was furthest out of you three. You flung the door open, grinning when you saw Reki smiling up at you from the doorstop. You let out a scream of delight, jumping into his arms as he responded with a laugh. You heard his skateboard skitter along your driveway when he dropped it, arms coming up to wrap around you as he spun you around.

“Hey sweetheart” you heard him muffle into the side of your neck as he held you close, and you could feel the smile on his lips. He slowly brought his head out, hair ruffled and a dopey grin on his face. You reached up to fix his hair, reciprocating his greeting with a smile of your own. You brought him around the side of your house to collect your skateboard and help him retrieve his from where it was cast on the floor. He reached out to offer his hand to you, bringing it up to kiss it when you accepted. “Shall we go?” He cocked his head to the side, smiling brightly when you nodded and stood onto your skateboard.

And so the two of you made your way to Langa’s, you shooting him a quick text to let him know you were on the way. You and Reki made light conversation as you skated along the roads of Okinawa, talking about where the three of you would go today. It was a Saturday, which usually meant it as date night for you three. What you did on your dates changed quite a bit, but according to Reki, Joe had some new recipies on his menu that he wanted to try, and he thought you and Langa might like them. Joe’s was a regular date spot, the three of you annoying the shit out of the poor man with your antics. You would stay there for hours, simply asking for water and breadsticks until he threatened to kick you out in an attempt to lengthen your visit. He would never actually kick the three of you out though, he loves you too much. You hope.

You picked up your board as you and Reki got to the front of Langa’s house, both of you knocking at the same time. You could hear his mother behind the door calling him excitedly, telling him his partners were at the door. You heard what sounded like Langa practically falling down his stairs, and you and Reki shared a look, both wondering just what was going on in the house. Based on Langa’s dishevelled demeanour as he stepped out the door, something of the sort had indeed happened. His expression quickly picked up when he saw the two of you waiting for him. He pulled the two of you into a hug, giving Reki a quick kiss on the cheek before turning around to press one to your forehead. And once again you were skating down the road, except this time it was all three of you, headed to Joe’s to stuff yourselves with his new meals.

The smell of Italian cuisine wafted through your nostrils as you took in the scenery around you. Joe’s was particularly packed today, but your booth was empty as usual, the three of you slipping into it while laughing at something Langa had said. After the first month or so of you going to Joe’s on Saturdays, he’d started reserving the booth for you to ensure you had somewhere to sit. You sat beside Langa while Reki slid into the other side of the booth. You’d swap who sat where every week, for example last week Langa and Reki sat on one side while you took the other. Joe made his way out of the kitchen, smiling when he saw the three of you sitting down. He made his way over to you, menus in one hand and a notepad in the other.

“I was wondering when you kids would finally show up! Thought you’d decided to ditch me this week.” The three of you laughed while he placed the menus down, looking at you expectedly. “so let me guess,” he pointed at you, “breadsticks?” You laughed while Reki shook his head, to which Joe gave him a puzzled look. “No? But its what you always seem to get. In a rush to leave today?” Langa flipped through the menu, pointing out a few things to you with one hand while the other snaked around your waist.

“Not today, were on a mission.” Reki explained while you slid down in your seat, stretching and getting comfy while Langa practically salivated over the menu. “We heard you’ve got some new stuff on the menu, and we wanted to make sure we had enough time to try it.” You and Langa nodded enthusiastically while Joe chuckled, checking his watch.

“Well you’re lucky you didn’t get here later, I have just enough time to whip up the new ones for you before I close up. So dont go getting too comfy, I’ll have to kick you out within the hour!” You smiled at Joe, sliding even further down into your seat and cuddling into Langa, exaggeratedly putting your arms around him as you batted your eyes as Joe.

“Oh dont worry, we wont get too comfy!” Langa played along, practically lying down in the booth with you as you faked being asleep. Reki giggled across from you, snapping a few pictures of the two of you. You shot into the booth beside him to look at the photos, horrified when you realized he had posted them on his story. You pouted as he pulled you into his side, giving you a quick kiss as he explained how cute the two of you looked. You slid back into Langa, both of you pretending to ignore Reki, laughing when he started whining about how he’d leave and make you two pay for everything yourselves.

When the food finally came, you all watched with wide eyes as four big plates were put in front of you: a new spaghetti and meatballs with “improved sauce”, a huge pizza littered with [whatever toppings you like], a lasagna dish with extra crispy cheese, and a big basket of garlic bread. Langa was practically foaming at the mouth beside you as you watched Reki immediately lunge for a slice of pizza. You turned around to thank Joe before grabbing your own fork and diving into the lasagna.

After the three of you had demolished the better of 2/3 of all the dishes, you grabbed the pate of meatballs, declaring you wanted to try something with them. “It’ll be cute! Come on” you begged as you set up your camera. The plan was to recreate the scene from The Lady and the Tramp, taking turns sharing a string of spaghetti before meeting in the middle. They eventually agreed, allowing you to hand them a string of spaghetti to put in their mouth.

First was Reki, who kept sucking too fast and pulling it out of your mouth, just eating it for himself. Eventually he got it right, pulling you into a sweet kiss in the middle of the table. You had to tap him to make him take away his hand he’d placed at the back of your head in an attempt to keep you there just a bit longer, worried that people were staring. He giggled, watching as Langa made his way to the other side of the table so you could properly film it. Reki gave him a quick kiss before Langa gently placed the spaghetti in his mouth. However, he kept laughing and had to replace it multiple times. Finally he stopped laughing long enough for you to meet him in the middle, giving him a soft kiss. When you broke away he was quickly getting up and coming back to your side, declaring it was him and Reki’s turn. They took the longest, Langa’s laughing and Reki’s speedy eating combining to create absolute chaos. When you finally had it filmed, you looked around to see the restaurant completely deserted, Joe yelling a muffled “Get out!” from the kitchen. You picked up your boards and ran out, leaving your money on the table and yelling a “Thanks!” In Joe’s general direction.

You skated along the road, stopping at a corner store to pick up some snacks for while the three of you were skating. Reki was playing music from his speaker as you talked, acting as background noise while you laughed together. Just as you had been picked up, you and Reki skated with Langa back to his house. His mom was already waiting for him at the door, waving at you excitedly when she saw the three of you come into view. You all went up to the door, giving her a hug and making small talk while you said goodbye to Langa for the night. After Reki said goodbye and walked over to talk to his mom, you wrapped your arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek and holding him tight. He laughed, rubbing your back as he pulled away from the hug to run his hand through your hair and along your cheek, pulling you back in for one final kiss. You and Reki waited until they had both gone inside before skating off, headed for your house.

You hung around your door with Reki for a few minutes, not wanting to go inside and for the night to be over. Soon enough though, you were telling Reki he needed to head home, not wanting him to skate home by himself too late. He chuckled, pulling you close and resting his chin on your head. “Now what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t defend you and Langa? I’ll be fine sweetheart.” He pulled away to look at you, smiling down at you while he rubbed your face. You leaned into the touch, telling him you were still going to worry and he should head home regardless. He faked a pout before grinning, pulling you close and giving you another kiss, swaying you as your hand came up to mess with his hair. When you finally pulled away, you stayed in his arms for a little while before finally stepping closer to your door, letting go of his hand last as you opened it. You waved goodbye to Reki before blowing a kiss, which he caught, bringing his hand to his mouth.

Before you closed your door, Reki stood onto his board and began to make his way down your driveway. “Goodnight sweetheart!” He yelled as he looked behind at you, nearly falling off his board because he wasn’t looking at where he was going. You laughed, waving back.

“Goodnight my prince!” You could see him smile at the nickname from the end of your driveway, before finally pushing off. You closed the door when he left your sight, smiling to yourself as you made your way back to your room. You looked at the videos you took earlier that day, smiling when you heard Reki cheer in the background of you and Langa’s video. You sent them into the group chat the three of you had, laughing at the pictures Reki took of you and Langa and saving them to your phone.

Maybe the three of you might make a reappearance at Joe’s the following day. After all, the food was delicious, among other things..

[mightbeorphanedidk]

I know that Alastor was a bad guy, and he's a terrible person for doing what he did, but I agree with this. Yall have to remember Husk was the SAME as Alastor, it's not like he went up to people and asked for their souls pretty please with a cherry on top. He gambled. And when he did, he cheated. (I am STRONGLY confident that that has been confirmed by Viv) Husk made the mistake of getting too confident, too drawn in the idea of owning the RADIO DEMON, that he lost all his chips before he could snap out of it.

Maybe it's a Kakeguri thing where Alastor called Husk out and made him play fair and square, meaning Alastor just HAPPENED to get lucky. But I don't doubt that Alastor probably cheated, too.

They're both terrible people. They both cheat, lie, and scam people for life. Alastor’s just better at it. And Husk was too caught up in his glory to realise that.

"Oh, but Alastor shouldn't have threatened him like that! He was shaking!! 🥺"

Think about it realistically; If it was swapped, and Husk had power and control over a measly little deer who strayed too far from his post, Husk would have done the same. Anyone would have done the same. Or at least, I would have.

If Husk got his overlord status, I'm willing to bet my soul (haha wait what) that he'd go back to being how he is, maybe even a little bit more cruel. Husk may have softened due to Angel, or for whatever other character development reason, but I can assure you, he'll relapse if given the chance.

I understand that seeing a MC that you love being hurt like that can urk people, but it's not a valid reason to "baby" them, so to speak. They're not good people. None of them. Perhaps the best out of all of them is Charlie, and she was raised by an (albeit fallen) angel.

This had no structure i was just saying random thoughts as they came to mind sorry

On a side note

I really loved their dynamic in the pilot-- Husk is sick and tired of Alastor’s "adventures" but is forced to follow along anyways. It's beautiful. Honestly, I would have LOVED it if Husk’s soul wasn't owned, but he's still there cus he secretly cares just a lil bit about the other two. Maybe that’s the found family in my speaking. But alas, I understand the need for misery and angst in this world 💔

Doesn't change my opinion about the pilot them, though

"Alastor is a villain because he chained poor Husk 🥺"

I think you all forget THIS is the Husk that made the deal with Alastor:

The Husk that was so careless and selfish that was gambling SOULS, to the point he gambled his own soul away to save his powers.

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.

[youngbugandtonystank]

And now anti Tony people are blaming him for letting Sam’s family being in financial trouble wtf the man is dead! Let him rest!

Yeah, I saw. 

They’re definitely going to keep doing that, gotta say, the MCU never failed with Tony's character, they created circumstances for him exactly just like Stan envisioned. The ‘love-to-hate’ trope is strong when it comes to him, this is what Stan wanted out of Tony Stark's relationship with his fans/audience. Thing is, the reality of the MCU superhero is that they’re all flawed. None of them are exempt from anything. Why Tony gets more hate than the others?

He’s the most popular character. There’s no discussion in this instance. Popular superheroes that first come to people’s minds are always Batman, Iron Man and Spider-Man. Tony Stark/Iron Man is a pop culture legend and the fact that RDJ got to portray him as great as he did, helped a lot. People are always going to circle back to the character who has more hype and audience. 

He’s the one with the money. The fact that Tony is swimming in money automatically makes him the target of the ‘eat the rich’ mentality. People fail to remember that other characters such as T’Challa (who has more money than Tony would ever wish to see and lives in the most technologically advanced country in the world), Shuri, Thor (a literal king with a kingdom), The Pym family, Danny Rand (he has a net worth of $5 billion and is one of the richest comic book characters of all time), etc exist. And we still haven’t seen the other Marvel characters (in the MCU) that are richer than Tony like Reed Richards, Professor X, Warren Worthington, Norman Osborn, Namor, Doctor Doom, etc. 

Even if some of us see RDJ as attractive and good looking, some people don’t. For them, RDJ is nothing compared to Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Sebastian Stan, etc. It’s easier to hate a character you don’t find attractive. And also the fact that they find those actors relatively younger than RDJ. 

It’s the most shippable character. This also means he must be in the way of some other ships. Even if this sounds unbelievable, many people don’t get their irrational hate for a character until it dawns on them that they only hate him because he either treated one half of their ship unfairly or because he’s in the way of that ship. The more reasons they can find to hate him, the more legitimate their senseless hatred seems in their minds.

People don’t call out characters like T’Challa or Shuri because they’re scared of being called ‘racist’. T’Challa is so rich that Howard Stark could only buy (just an assumption, it’s a possibility he stole the vibranium lmao) only a portion of vibranium to build Steve’s shield, and because is the world’s most indestructible material, his worth is approximately $10,000 a gram (Fantastic Four #607) and Wakanda's vaults hold 10,000 tons of the material (Doomwar #1) T’Challa is not a billionaire, he’s a trillionaire lmaoooo everyone else is a joke compared to him.

Even having all of this info, Tony and T’Challa owe nothing to anyone.

T’Challa helped Bucky because of his principles (Tony offered to do this at the beginning as well until of course, he found out he killed his parents) but because of that, that doesn't mean T’Challa owes Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha money or housing assistance. He didn't give it to them at all and he doesn’t have to. 

James Rhodes: Well. You guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years.

Sam Wilson: Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five star.

Wanna know why? Because T’Challa knows they’re adults and they make their own decisions. Sam chose to be on Steve’s side, Wanda did too, Natasha too, etc. Adults make decisions and they should deal with the consequences that come with that. Tony was not going to deal with their financial problems because they made a choice and it’s not his problem to deal with. Tony is not their father. People need to ask themselves why Sam was not in the ‘lift the hammer’ scene after the party, because he wasn’t familiar with them, he wasn’t friends with Tony, only with Steve. Besides that fact, they all fought Tony, hurt his best friend, and left him to deal with the rest in CW. They’re not family.

Sam Wilson: No, I'm not actually sorry. I'm just trying to sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons case. Avenging is your world. Your world is crazy. Steve Rogers: Be it ever so humble. Sam Wilson: You find a place in Brooklyn yet? Steve Rogers: I don't think I can afford a place in Brooklyn. Sam Wilson: Well, home is home, you know?

There’s absolutely no reason Steve can’t afford a place. He’s an adult, he has a good reputation, he worked for shield (why aren’t yall on Nick Fury’s ass if he had Steve and the others as employees? Fury set an entire place for Clint, why can’t he do it for the rest of them, he is the founder of the Avengers after all), and was pretty much capable of doing stuff for others. Tony provided them with a home while they were working together, he doesn’t need to concern himself with their personal problems because they’re not actual friends. Rhodey is his friend. Happy is his friend. Also consider the fact that maybe Sam didn’t want his help? 

And let’s also take into consideration that Tony is not only an Avenger, but Tony is also a businessman, an inventor, an engineer, has a company to keep an eye on, he is the one who finances the Avengers’ messes and other superhero messes too by co-owning the department of damage control, etc. He has other things to do. The rest of the Avengers are adults too, they should seek a job that could give them a future too, not just depend on Tony’s money. Tony had a family and he had to make sure they were covered after his death, this includes, Pepper (his wife, therefore she gets his stuff), Peter (his son, he left him EDITH, he’s basically set for life with that given the A.I. has access to the majority of his things including bank accounts), Morgan (his daughter; his responsibility), Happy and Rhodey (I’m sure we’ll see what he left them in Armor Wars). Why? They’re his actual family. 

If some of you know this and you’re still looking for reasons to put the blame on him, you’re failing to recognize you’re obsessed with hating Tony just for the sake of being right. Wouldn’t you like a life where you don’t have to constantly look for reasons to hate on a fictional character, better yet, a character you don’t like at all. Why the effort? You can love Tony and Sam at the same time, I promise you, this is not going to kill you. 

So please, instead of whining about Tony Stark all the time, why don’t yall just enjoy the fact that the show is showing you a vital and important event that happens in life while representing a part of Sam’s life to add to his emotional depth and character development? Especially because he’s a superhero and possibly the next Captain America, it’s good to see someone who is supposed to be a figure (superhero) whose actions or achievements are far greater than what people expect deal with normal things. They’re giving you a background; a solid storyline for his character. Let it be. Enjoy the shows yall, you can’t keep coming back to blame Tony for everything that happens after every single movie or Disney+ show, look for another metaphorical punching bag. The man is dead. 

[ticklishlasquadra]

Hitman Interrogated (SFW Tickle Fic)

Fandom: That really Bizarre one, if you know what I mean

Character(s): Lee!Prosciutto, Ler!Original Character

Summary: Prosciutto felt like he was in some shitty, cliche mobster movie. He knew what this set up meant. Someone was going to interrogate him. For what, who the fuck knows, but Prosciutto was already annoyed.

THIS IS A TICKLE FIC, YALL. It’s not nsfw or sexual, but if you don’t like? Don’t read. Okay? Okay. Good talk. I need more La Squa//dra content in my life, so I guess I'll just have to make it myself!

Prosciutto woke up with the worst headache he’d had in a while. His vision was blurry, and he wondered for a brief moment if he had a concussion. What was the last thing he remembered? He was at the base, all of La Squa dra were. There was a bit of a lull in missions to go on, so they had been enjoying a few days of relaxation. Once his vision corrected itself, he realized that wherever he was, he definitely was not still at the base. A quick scan around the room showed him that he was somewhere dark, a light hanging haphazardly on the ceiling being the only source of light. The light was at least bright enough so he could see that the room was pretty empty.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled to himself, going to stand up.

But the second he tried, he realized something. He was tied up. He looked over to see that his wrists were bound to the chair he was sitting in. Trying to move his legs and feet proved to be useless as well. More restraints kept his legs and ankles completely immobilized. He felt like he was in some shitty, cliché mobster movie. He knew what this set up meant. Someone was going to interrogate him. For what, who the fuck knows, but Prosciutto was already annoyed. He wasn’t a novice, and though he was usually the one doing the torturing, he had found himself on the other side on a few occasions. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, and if they killed him, well, whatever. He never planned on growing old anyways. Attempts to call his stand had been pointless. Whoever was behind this probably had some sort of stand that they were using that cancelled out others. No matter. Prosciutto knew how to fight and kill with his bare hands if he had to.

Minutes passed and every attempt to break the restraints with his strength or to wiggle out of them ended in failure. He was so focused on trying to get out that he barely noticed the person opening the door and walking into the room.

“Try all you want, you ain’t going anywhere,” the man said, a wide, shit-eating grin on his face.

Prosciutto’s attention turned to him. This man would have been dead if looks could kill.

“What the fuck is this?” Prosciutto growled, narrowing his eyes.

The man just kept smirking, looking Prosciutto up and down, like he was watching a worm squirm on a hook. The man walked closer to Prosciutto, close enough that he could get a look at him. He would’ve been a fairly average looking guy, if not for the shock of black and white hair.

“Probably some shitty dye job,” he thought to himself.

Prosciutto didn’t recognize him, which only pissed him off even more. How the hell did he get jumped by some chucklefuck he didn’t know? None of this made any sense.

“We had no idea how long you guys would be knocked out for. My co-worker’s stand can be pretty unpredictable.”

You guys? So he had at least some of the others. Shit.

“Alright, you better tell me who the fuck you are and let me out of this stupid chair before I wring your neck.”

Another snort came from the man. “You aren’t in any position to be making threats.”

The man took another step closer. He was seriously starting to get way too in Prosciutto’s personal space.

“You can call me Lorenzo.”

Prosciutto glared. “I don’t care about your fucking name, I want to know which group of idiots you are working for.”

Lorenzo chuckled, pissing the blond off even more. “You have more important things to worry about, like telling me where your leader is.”

Prosciutto made a face. What the fuck did he want with Risotto? Prosciutto remembered Risotto telling them that he was going on some sort of mission alone and he’d probably be gone for a few days. He had left that morning. Prosciutto had a few ideas of where Risotto might have gone, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell this asshole anything.

“None of your goddamn business,” Prosciutto hissed.

Lorenzo sighed, like he was disappointed Prosciutto didn’t give him an answer right away. “We figured your little squad would be difficult. No matter. We’ll get it out of at least one of you.”

Prosciutto didn’t even hold back rolling his eyes. His team was comprised of ruthless hitmen for fucks sake, if this guy thought a little torture would make any of them say anything, he was sorely mistaken.

“Can’t tell you shit I don’t know,” he finally said, his voice sharp and composed.

Lorenzo made a soft ‘tsk’ sound, like a parent chastising a child. Prosciutto finally noticed the bag Lorenzo had with him. Probably filled with knives or pliers and shit like that to torment him with. Prosciutto steeled himself. He wasn’t going to tell this guy shit. He was loyal to Risotto, loyal to his squad in general. And he wasn’t actually lying. Though he may have had an idea, he didn’t actually know where his captain had gone.

Another minute of silence went by. His eyes were glued to Lorenzo and he growled the second he got close again.

“Get the hell out of my face, you-”

Out of nowhere, Prosciutto felt a poke on his side. He almost flinched, catching himself at the last moment. Then he felt another. And another. The bastard was poking him.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Lorenzo’s eyes met Prosciutto's. “Just curious…are you ticklish?”

Prosciutto stared at the man, dumbfounded. What kind of stupid question was that? Why did it matter? Prosciutto couldn’t even think of the last time he had been tickled. Probably when he was a kid, when one of his asshole older cousins would bully him. But he was an adult now, that stuff didn’t affect him anymore.

“Go to hell,” Prosciutto spat.

Lorenzeo shook his head, making that stupid chastising sound again. “How do you think you’re going to answer all my questions when you can’t even answer this simple one?”

Prosciutto kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t even going to entertain the question. Lorenzo tossed the bag on the floor, and suddenly Prosciutto felt ten fingers digging into his sides.

“Ngh!” the blond gritted his teeth.

Lorenzo gave a knowing smirk before wiggling his fingers up and down Prosciutto’s sides. Prosciutto only gritted his teeth harder, silencing himself. Lorenzo let out a hum, as if he found this all very amusing. Prosciutto wanted to cuss this guy out so badly, but he was worried that if he opened his mouth, he’d make a noise that would only egg the man on further. Lorenzo’s fingers crept from Prosciutto’s sides to his ribs. Prosciutto jumped, well, as much as he could while being restrained.

The tormentor’s eyes lit up. “Oh? What was that?” he asked, pretending to be surprised.

“Shut up,” Prosciutto snarled, his voice wavering the slightest bit, but it was enough for Lorenzo to notice and he continued to prod at Prosciutto’s ribs.

The higher his fingers went, the stiffer the other man became. Lorenzo’s fingers ran over Prosciutto’s top two ribs, and the blond couldn’t hold back making a poorly muffled yelp.

“Oh, that’s more like it.” Lorenzo focused his fingers in that spot, feeling the other man’s body flinch and twist under his fingers. “So again, where is your leader?”

Prosciutto silently cursed at the man. “You think this is, ah, going to make me t-talk? You’re even dumber than I thought.” He couldn't help the way his voice stuttered.

But this was nothing. He wasn’t going to be brought down by a little bit of tickling. Lorenzo shrugged his shoulders before going up to the spot just above Prosciutto’s ribs and under his armpits.

“F-fuck!” Prosciutto shouted, trying to arch away from the fingers and having no luck.

“Huh, I wonder…”

With no warning, Lorenzo scribbled his fingers right under Prosciutto’s arms. The poor captive couldn’t help the laughter that poured from his lips.

“Fu-ahahahaha-uuck yohohohohou!” He tried to keep his voice in that low, intimidating growl, but the longer Lorenzo stayed under his arms, the less he could keep it up.

“So you are ticklish! Wait ‘til I tell the others this scary, ruthless hitman is ticklish.”

Prosciutto groaned, as he had no choice but to keep laughing. His reputation was important to him. Not that he gave a shit about what a bunch of random losers thought about him, but he didn’t want this bit of information to get out to his team. How embarrassing that would be. Still, losing his pride didn’t compare to betraying his boss, so he didn’t say a word about him. He figured that his captor would get bored of this pretty quickly. How wrong he would be. Prosciutto could feel his chest starting to ache a bit from laughing. But every time Lorenzo asked him anything, he just kept telling him to fuck off.

After another minute, Lorenzo finally removed his hands, giving Prosciutto time to catch his breath. He coughed, fleetingly regretting all the cigarettes he smoked.

“Are you done yet?” That deadly glare came back tenfold.

“Considering you haven’t told me where your precious little leader is, no, I’m not, not by a longshot,” Lorenzo replied in a smug tone.

The man moved his hands close again, wiggling his fingers just above Prosciutto’s armpits. Every time he teased getting closer, Prosciutto’s entire body would freeze up. Lorenzo did this a couple times, laughing at the other man’s reaction each time. Once Lorenzo stopped and moved away, Prosciutto’s body relaxed, if only for a moment.

“Let’s see…”

Prosciutto felt one of his shoes come off. Then the other one. Lorenzo gave his captive that awful grin again. He ran a single finger up Prosciutto’s foot, from heel to toe. A snort came out of Prosciutto before he could even think to stifle it. Lorenzo repeated the process on the other foot, snickering at how Prosciutto tried to move his feet as much as he could, which wasn’t much at all.

“Alright, no more messing around,” Lorenzo said as he made quick work of Prosciutto’s socks, tossing them off to the side.

The tied up man briefly wondered if this guy was like Melone with the whole foot fetish thing. The thought made Prosciutto even more uneasy. Ten fingers attacked the bottoms of his feet, giving him no time to adjust to the feeling. A squeal, an honest to god squeal came out of the blond’s mouth. It quickly turned into laughter, and was back to trying to cuss his captor out. Lorenzo didn’t seem shaken at all, a smirk still on his face as he scribbled his fingers up and down Prosciutto’s squirming feet.

“Where is your leader?”

Despite laughing his head off, Prosciutto still denied everything. Lorenzo let out another one of his annoyed sighs as he stopped for a moment to grab the bag he tossed on the ground.

“I really didn’t want to do this.” He rummaged through the bag, pulling out a wide paddle hairbrush.

Prosciutto breathed heavily, catching his breath during the brief break. “The hell...is that for?”

Lorenzo took hold of the toes on one of Prosciutto’s feet, then immediately started to scrub his feet with the brush, mercilessly attacking his sole, his arch, the ball of his foot. No spot was left untouched by the brush’s bristles. That turned out to be Prosciutto’s downfall, as he burst into loud, desperate laughter.

“Are you ready to talk?” Lorenzo didn’t even look up from what he was doing.

“Nohohohohoho!!!” Prosciutto shouted. He couldn’t break, he couldn’t let this weakness get the best of him. He would never betray his team, and anger bubbled in his stomach just thinking about what the hell they were doing to the others. His mind couldn’t stay on the subject very long. All he could think is “Holy shit, stopstopstopstopstopstop-!” over and over again like a ridiculous mantra.

“You get one more chance before I make a little call. Now, where. Is. Your. Leader?”

“I don’t know!” Prosciutto finally exclaimed, almost unable to speak due to the copious amounts of relentless laughter. This guy had to stop, he was actually telling the truth for once! But of course, it would never be that easy.

Lorenzo shook his head. “Your funeral, buddy.” He took out a cellphone from his pocket, tapping the screen and putting it up to his ear. The tickling stopped as he spoke to someone on the phone.

Prosciutto was so relieved that he didn’t even listen to the contents of the call. Sweat dripped down his forehead and neck. He was sure he looked fucking ridiculous, like a complete mess. He desperately needed some water, but even after everything, he wasn’t about to beg.

Lorenzo hung up the phone and looked back over at the panting man. “Enjoy the break while you can, I’m feeling charitable today.”

“What, do you want me to thank you?” Prosciutto’s voice was filled with venom.

“Might help,” Lorenzo chuckled to himself, knowing damn well the hitman wasn’t going to humor him.

A few minutes passed and Prosciutto was starting to have a bit of hope that Lorenzo would now switch to some other method, a more painful one. He braced himself, preparing for pain, maybe cuts, gunshot wounds, burns, whatever. Anything had to be less humiliating than this.

The door opened once more, three men sauntering in. All of them stared at Prosciutto with a sadistic look in their eyes.

“I was getting a little tired, it’s hard work doing this shit, yknow?” Lorenzo spoke in the most casual tone. “And since you’re not cooperating, my charitable mood could only last for so long.”

Prosciutto swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. They weren’t about to...were they??

Lorenzo picked up the brush he had been using during the torture and handed it to one of the men. Another one picked up the bag, searching until he pulled out another brush.

Prosciutto’s eyes widened. “F-fuck no,” he mumbled under his breath, actually trembling, no matter how hard he tried not to.

Lorenzo crossed his arms over his chest as the two with brushes advanced towards Prosciutto, going right by his bare feet. The one man without a tool walked behind him, raising his hands just above his armpits.

“I’m going to take a little break, so I think I’ll let my friends handle this. They’ve been watching this go down, so they know exactly what makes you tick.”

Fuck. Prosciutto didn’t even notice any cameras, but he wouldn’t put it past these bastards to have hidden ones.

Lorenzo cleared his throat before speaking again. “Oh, by the way, I really don’t give a shit about what you have to say anymore. We’ll just get it out of one of the others.” He walked to the door, looking completely bored.

“See ya.”

He nodded to the three men before turning around. As he walked out the door, he heard a panicked howl that melted into anguished laughter. Lorenzo smiled as he closed the door.

This was definitely worth it.

[ichorai]

cellmates ; five ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

themes ; fantasy, angst, slowburn, action, adventure, medieval, pirates, magic, elves, mermaids, royalty

words ; 8.9k

warnings / includes ; character death, blood and grime and injury and everything in between, reader being tied/chained up :(, vulgar cursing, crying, rowdy pirates, "keep the love interests away from each other" trope <3, ✨pure confusion✨, me torturing my characters once again yikes, ateez cameos !!, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; uhm. hi. first off, i apologize for taking so long with this series KWHJKSDFK and second, i am also so sorry for what you're about to read o.0 this one's a real angsty part folks :') i swear i swear it gets better don't be too upset :(( i love writing this series so much (it's prob my favorite original story) and im so excited to hear yalls thoughts :D

cellmates masterlist.

a map of this universe is included at the end of the chapter !!!

Cerulean beaches never quite looked like real beaches to you. The sand was as white as snow, the gentle lapping waters so bright they looked to be molten sapphires. It was all far too perfect to be naturally authentic. You were pleased to find that your boots left shallow imprints in the sand, disrupting the once pristine terrain.

Night was creeping upon you once again, and you were in desperate need for a good sleep. You were lucky that Yunho didn’t live very far off, also pleasantly surprised to find that you could even remember the way back (though admittedly, it took a considerable amount of backtracking).

The front of his little cottage was just as you remembered, albeit dark and somewhat dingy. None of the candles or oil lamps were lit and the curtains were drawn. The large expanse of his garden seemed somewhat unmaintained, weeds starting to sprout from between the wilting, once bright flowers.

You knocked against the door thrice, clasping your hands behind your back while you waited. How would Yunho react upon seeing you? What if he blamed you for losing Wooyoung? What if he didn’t believe you? What would you say then? Much like the first time you came to Yunho’s little cottage, tumultuous questions and irrational thoughts churned about in your mind.

It took a long while for you to realize that nobody had answered the door yet. You blinked, mystified, and raised a fist to rap on the wood again. You grew impatient rather quickly, knocks progressively becoming more frequent and hurried.

“Yunho?” You called out after about five minutes of waiting. By then, it was obvious that the man was either not home or avoiding you on purpose. And considering how friendly and sweet the pink-headed giant was the last you saw, you doubted it was the latter. “I’m coming in!”

The door opened in a fluid motion, knocking against the wall behind as you swung it open. You stepped inside tentatively, peering around with widened eyes. It was completely dark inside. So much so that it took you a few minutes for your eyes to properly adjust to the ill-lit hallway. Just as you had remembered, the small living room was to your left and quaint kitchen to your right, the winding staircase situated in the corner. The familiar scent of maple wood was still lingering in the air, although faint and almost imperceptible.

You shut the door behind you and toed off your boots, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your voice eerily echoed in the empty cottage.

And so you made your way up the staircase, peering into the bedrooms. A heavy feeling gripped at your chest when you glanced into Yunho’s bedroom. That was where you and Wooyoung kissed… you could still remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, his warm breath on the back of your neck. You wondered what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped him. How far would the two of you have gone?

Shaking all thoughts of the past away, you bounded back down the stairs. There was no sign of Yunho at all. Just where could he be? You tried your best comforting yourself; perhaps he had gone out for a walk. Surely he’d be back soon.

Much to your dismay and gradually rising concern, Yunho didn’t show up at all. Not when the sun started to rise again, not when you passed out in sheer exhaustion on a kitchen stool (you couldn’t bring it in yourself to go back up to the bedrooms), and not even when you stirred back into consciousness, the late morning sun glaring at you harshly through the slivers between the curtains.

Your bones cracked and popped as you stood up and arched your back, rolling your stiff neck from side to side. From the pirate ship, you had brought little else than a knapsack full of gold you found in one of the cellars, food that could last you a couple days, water skins, and two sheathed daggers. Everything else on the ship was practically worthless, or too heavy to carry.

With a heavy sigh, you splashed water onto your face using the kitchen tap and patted your sleep-ruffled hair down. The skin around your wrists were still raw and stung when you rinsed away the crusted blood. You wished San had given you that coconut extract lotion; you couldn’t seem to find it anywhere on the ship. Guilt-stricken, you turned off the water and slung the knapsack over your good shoulder.

If Yunho was gone, then where else could you go? It seemed wrong to stay in his home without his knowing.

Air. You just needed air to clear up your mind.

Stepping outside felt like a mistake. Under the bright sunlight, you felt your head throb dully in agitation. The garden looked even more lamentable now than last night, the flowers drooping so far that their browning petals grazed the dry soil beneath. The air felt thick and heavy, and you huffed out several breaths to relax your tense muscles, shutting your eyes in the process.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was so sudden and unexpected, you couldn’t help but shriek, flinching back against the cottage door. You were met with an old man standing just shy of Yunho’s unkempt garden, his gaze confused and somewhat judgemental.

“W-What?” You muttered once regaining your scattered thoughts.

“I said,” the older man shot you an exasperated look. “What are you doing, waiting by that house? Nobody lives there.”

It felt as if cold water was dripping down your spine, and you crossed your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. “But… that can’t be true… Yunho lives here. He’s a, uhm, a baker, I think. This is his house.”

The old man regarded you like someone would look at a madman. There was something in his tone that told you that he wasn’t taking you seriously. “I’m sorry to say this, but nobody’s lived there for years and years. I’ve never heard of a baker named Yunho in this area.”

“No… but I was just here a few days ago with him…” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in thought. What was going on? Where could he have gone? What could’ve happened to him?

In your peripheral vision, you saw the old man hobble away, but not without stopping to glance back at you with narrowed eyes every few steps.

And then you remembered with a sharp intake of breath. You and Wooyoung were thrown into jail to fade away into nothing but legends… and now nobody believes you really exist… Wooyoung was thought to be dead by everybody… could the same be happening to his innocent, pink-haired friend? A dark, tar-slicked hand reached out into the confines of your chest and curled its slimy fingers around your palpitating heart in a steely grip.

They took Yunho. The realization had you slapping a palm to your mouth, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It all made sense; the untended garden, the old man saying nobody’s lived here for years… it sickened you to think that the only reason you could remember him was because you weren’t in Cerulea when he ‘disappeared’.

“Oh, no. Oh, god, no!” You leaned against the door, overwhelmed. If they took Yunho, would they have Wooyoung, too? Did Wooyoung even come back to Cerulea? If he wasn’t here, then he’d be the only other person who remembered Yunho.

Just what the hell are you going to do now?

It felt wrong to stay in Yunho’s empty little cottage with your newfound realization. The pirate ship was the second best option, but even that was much too far for your trembling legs; you doubted you’d even make it to the beaches, much less get in a small boat to row back to the anchored ship. Besides, the memory of San jumping off the side was one that you weren’t very keen on reliving.

And so, that was how you found yourself in front of an inn, only two cobbled roads away. The heavy door whined as you gently nudged it open, shuffling inside. Your heart was thumping against your ribcage so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. For once, you were glad that your name had faded into legend. To them, you were probably just another nobody.

The inn held the thick aroma of cheap alcohol and spritzer perfume. You glanced around curiously, noting the few people poking away at their breakfast and chugging down their frothy ales.

What looked to be the owner of the establishment was standing behind a counter, looking bored. He caught your eyes, and despite your head telling you to turn around and walk back to the pirate ship, you found yourself shuffling forward.

“What can I do for you?” The innkeeper asked, eyeing your haggard appearance.

Feebly, you pulled out a handful of gold coins and dropped them onto the wood of the counter. “Can I just get a room for the night? Will this be enough?”

The man across from you stared at you incredulously, his gaze flickering from the gold to your wide eyes. “Where’d you get all this money from? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You blinked twice, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They’re my savings.”

He looked upon you dubiously, but accepted the coins nonetheless. “You can have breakfast if you’d like. It comes with the room.”

Shaking your head slightly, you replied, “thanks, but I just want to get settled in for now. I’ll come down for luncheon.”

“Suit yourself,” the innkeeper quipped, sliding over a rusty key with eight engraved into its dull metal. “Head upstairs, turn left.”

And so that’s where you went, the wooden stairs creaking under your weight. You slotted the key into the lock of a door that had a large metal eight clearly displayed, and heaved the door open. By now, it felt as if your muscles were on fire. Everything seemed to be aching.

The first thing your eyes laid upon was a small bed, a thin, lavender-hued fleece wool blanket draped over the lumpy mattress and a single measly pillow propped up at its head. It took everything within you not to dive into the warmth of the woolen layer, but you managed to bide your time, even if it was just a couple minutes.

You toed off your boots, the soles of your feet practically numb. The pack that hung on your shoulder was next to come off, sliding down your arm and onto the bedside table. There was an unlit candle by the windowsill, but still more than enough light streaming in, seeing how it was still quite early in the morning.

The air smelled of breakfast from downstairs; consisting of, from what you saw, honeyed oatcakes and fruit tarts and rations of fried eggs and sausage. Your stomach was still quite empty, but you didn’t have the heart to go back. You needed time to think, time to rest.

After you nursed a few sips of water from a bottle in your knapsack, you finally allowed yourself to sink onto the bed, sighing out in contentment.

Everything felt so quiet, so still. This all felt like one of the stories you’d make up back when you were still in the cell. Perhaps it was all a bad dream, and you’d wake up in Wooyoung’s arms in Yunho’s little cottage, his lips littering soft kisses down the column of your throat until you stirred back into consciousness. A shiver ran through your spine and you sluggishly tucked the blanket up to your chin.

But since this wasn’t a dream, you found yourself at a loss.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you whispered. “What should I do? Where are you?”

It was so quiet that you could imagine Wooyoung’s voice in your head saying, “Don’t worry about me. Just go. Get back on the ship and sail away and never look back.” You frowned at the thought, curling onto your side so that your knees were pressed up to your chest.

“I love you,” were the last words imaginary-Wooyoung murmured, before your mind grew blank. The silence that followed was what ultimately lulled you into a tranquil slumber.

You were awoken partly from the light from outside angling directly into your shut eyes, and partly from the agitated growl emitting from your stomach. Blearily blinking the sleep away, you glanced around the room, fumbling for the bottle in the knapsack. After gulping down enough to quench your thirst, you slid out from underneath the purple blankets.

And following digging your knuckles into your eye sockets, you stumbled towards your boots, shoving your still-sore feet in. You didn’t bother lacing up the loose threads. After all, you were just going down for lunch, anyway.

Downstairs, the inn seemed far more crowded than it had been in the morning. A twinge of paranoia sang its trill song in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thoughts away, moving to sit on a dark stool in the corner.

“Slept well, I presume?” The innkeeper grinned slightly, raising an eyebrow at the state of your rumpled hair. “What’ll you have for luncheon, then?”

“Anything you have, I suppose,” you replied in a raspy tone, clearing your throat slightly.

A bowl of steaming rice and battered fish cubes slid across the counter, along with a side of warm bread and a slab of light canary-hued butter melting off the top. You were quick to tuck in, eating at a pace that would most probably have your stomach complaining in the near future.

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to ask you something, but ultimately didn’t get the chance as an influx of customers poured through the doors. You barely glanced upwards, wanting nothing more than to finish up your meal and head back upstairs to properly plan out what you were going to do. The growing crowd’s noise was starting to make you feel a little antsy.

A solid five minutes later, your bowl was already empty, save for sticky rice kernels stuck to the bottom. You dropped a gold coin next to the half-eaten buttery bread as a token of thanks for the innkeeper.

And when you hopped off the stool and looked forwards, you could practically feel your heart lurch into your throat. The sight of him was one that you never thought you’d see again, nor did you want to. You’d recognize him anywhere. He looked unchanged, the same roughly-shaven beard covering the expanse of his squared jaw, the jagged scar that trailed over his sallow cheekbones. Those damned stormy eyes, the same color as the princess’ silver necklace.

The man that had guarded your cell for God knows how long surveyed the chatting crowd with an ugly scowl imprinted onto his features, nose upturned as if he misliked being amongst the common folk. He moved away from the door, shoving past the common civilians milling about. The innkeeper was the first to notice the burly man’s presence, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

Completely skipping over any need for niceties, the guard held up an unfurled scroll, “We’re searching all nearby premises for a dangerous criminal. Looks like this.”

From your position, you couldn’t see what he was showing the innkeeper, but it was quite obvious that it was some sort of rough artistic rendition of you. Dread trickled into you as you watched his face morph into one of slight recognition.

You needed to leave. Right now.

The busy throng of civilians were used to your advantage as you silently weaved through the crowded inn, people you bumped into ranging from deliriously drunk to slightly tipsy. Your heartbeat was thundering far too loudly, to the point where you couldn’t hear what the guard was growling out. You were a couple meters behind him now… if he so much as looked backwards, you would be a dead person standing.

Shit. The knapsack. It was still in your room. You probably wouldn’t last two days without it. And so, you set off for upstairs, pace steadily growing quicker, in tandem with your palpitating heart rate.

Grab your pack, leave from the window, repeated itself over and over in your head, a mantra of panic and dread. Downstairs was too much of a risk.

You were running so quickly that your boots caught onto the wood of the stair steps, and you just about face planted against the bunt of the hard surface. Pain blossomed across your nose bridge and temple. Slightly disoriented, you pushed yourself back onto your feet and rushed away. No time. There was no time at all to get hurt. You needed to leave. What good were you to Yunho, to Wooyoung, if you were thrown back into a cell?

Utter relief sank its greedy claws into you as you burst into your room. No time, no time, no time, your own voice echoed in your head. You grabbed the knapsack and pushed at the window and—

“Shit!” You cursed angrily when the window didn’t budge, the cold panes wedged tightly against the wooden slats. It was then that you noticed the bolted lock clipping the window pane and wooden framing together. “Oh, fuck.” Your breaths came out as tight, staggered pants.

Before you could decide on what to do next, you heard shrill screaming come from downstairs, the terrible sound of steel against flesh reaching your ears. There was nowhere to go from here. You were trapped.

Practically hyperventilating at this point, you scurried back to the door. Perhaps if you went downstairs and blended into the crowd, you could get out without anybody else noticing.

But alas, you never got the chance. Because just as you turned into the hall, you were met with the horrendous sight of the stormy-eyed guard, the very same one that you saw every single day you were in that rotten cell, an appalling look of triumph splayed across his rugged features.

A leering grin twisted his ugly features in such a horrid manner that it took all you had in you not to retch. You noticed the way his sword was unsheathed, a ripe shade of carmine trickling down its sleek blade. No doubt that’s the innkeeper’s blood, you thought solemnly.

Before you could react, the guard’s calloused hand shot out to grab your forearm, pulling you along with him so roughly that you stumbled onto the floor, hands and knees scraping against the wood in a manner that had your skin torn and bleeding. Feebly, you attempted to grab at anything to hit him with, to hold on to out of desperation. With no remaining patience, the monster of a man yanked you upwards by the throat. Choked gasps left you as your hands darted up to claw at his clenching fingers, but you immediately stiffened when he snarled out something that had your blood running cold.

“The Gods have been kind to you today, girl. I would have you speared right here… have you bleeding out until all the life has been drained right out of you.” His putrid breath fanned across your neck as you struggled in his iron-clad grip fruitlessly. “Lucky for you, the princess has personally requested you be brought back alive.”

It was dark outside when Wooyoung cracked his eyelids open for the second time. Through the window across from him, he could see a plethora of stars speckled across a blanket of raven black, glinting and winking at him through the glass. The room he was in was beautifully decorated, stone arches elegantly curving just below the ceiling and intricate flame holders spaced out on the pristine walls. The candles bathed the room in a gentle honey-like luminescence; calming and tranquil, almost a sedative. All of his previous aches and pains were now dulled to gentle numbness.

Where am I?

“Glad to see you’re back awake. You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”

Wooyoung nearly screamed at the sudden voice from beside him, flinching so hard that the crown of his skull knocked against the bed’s headboard. He hissed in pain, face contorting into a grimace.

The elf (Yeosang was his name, Wooyoung faintly recalled) muffled a snort underneath his breath before swiftly pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, “Does it still hurt anywhere? I tried to heal your wounds with sarcio essence, but seeing that you’re human, it’ll take a bit longer for you to recover. You took quite a beating, you know.”

Wooyoung tried to speak, but the dryness in his throat made it hard to speak.

“Oh, here.” The attentive elf poured cold water from a pitcher into a small cup, handing it over to Wooyoung. He gingerly drank, swallowing with great effort.

“Where… where am I?”

After pursing his lips in thought, Yeosang bowed his head slightly, glancing at the tight bandages wrapped around the dark-headed man’s torso. “You’re in Nymaeden.”

“Nymaeden?!” Wooyoung just about shrieked. His bruised features twisted in agony. Perhaps he shouldn’t have shouted. Then, in a much softer tone, he mumbled out, “how did I get here?”

He was, most likely, all the way across the world from you. Although his mind was still heavily clouded, you were still fresh and prominent in his mind. He hoped you were okay… left tied up on that pirate ship… Gods, this was all his fault… What a fool he was, thinking you’d be okay after all that you’d gone through. You probably thought that he was dead.

The blond elf arched an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” When Wooyoung shook his head in hesitant denial, Yeosang continued on patiently, leaning forward.

“It was just three nights ago…”

The waters were cold, seeping into his flesh and bones, filling every one of his orifices, the salt trickling into him like sand down an hourglass. He could feel it drip into his lungs. Bubbles of his life slipped past his cracked-open lips and Wooyoung, with what little energy he had left to spare, lifted his fingers and tried to catch the small globules of air. The sticky blood that clung onto his skin like honey dissipated into the ocean, staining the waters a darker, sinister hue.

Wooyoung closed his eyes. His limp body sank further and further down. This was the end.

But was it?

Mermaids, being curious and spirited creatures they were, watched the injured handsome man drift across the ocean, crimson blood seeping out of his wounds. They had seen how he was thrown off the ship, how he had fought when he was onboard. They took pity on him. Even unconscious, a pain, far deeper-rooted than his physical cuts and gashes, was quite obviously splayed across his features. It was the face of a man with an utterly broken heart. He had just lost something very dear to him, that was made abundantly clear.

The small group of mermaids glanced at each other worriedly, almost immediately reaching a mutual consensus. In a swarm of colorful scales and wispy locks of hair, they swam towards the unmoving body.

One of them shamelessly prodded at him, ogling him with widened eyes, and they waited with baited breath. Wooyoung did not awaken. And so, two of the elegant creatures wrapped their arms around his leaking torso, and jolted into a brisk swim, carrying him across the oceans. Wooyoung’s raven hair pulled away from his face, revealing the deep gashes across his paling skin. A thinning trail of his blood followed them. They had to be quick; this man was just on the verge of greeting death.

They were taking him to Nymaeden, the land of the Elves. The elvish folk were the best healers they knew, and they were rather fond of the mermaids. Perhaps they would be willing to heal this unfortunate soul.

“We found you on the beaches,” Yeosang said in a discolored tone. “You were… you were practically dead. It was a miracle we got your heart rate back up, really. You’re either an incredibly thick-skulled fighter or… you’re just a coward afraid of death.”

Wooyoung winced at the elf’s stinging remark. Which was it? Was he running away from what was inevitable? What was he fighting for?

Y/N, the small voice in his head chimed. Wooyoung swallowed heavily.

“These mermaids… could I speak to them? Maybe they saw where the pirate ship went!”

Almost immediately, Yeosang shook his head. “I’m sorry, the mermaids are long gone now. They’re due up North, and I doubt they’d come back anytime soon.” There was a whicker of sympathy hidden behind his molten hazel irises. “Do you have any other plans? We can’t exactly keep you here in the medbay for all eternity.”

For a second, Wooyoung’s ragged breathing stilled.

“Pirates,” he murmured under his breath unsurely, just loud enough for the elf to pick up. “Where can I find them?”

Rearing back, Yeosang hissed out, “you must’ve hit your head harder one too many times, human. You were almost in death’s bony grasp, and now you want to go back?”

“I don’t care!” Wooyoung erupted, flinging his hands upward, despite his muscles screeching in agony. “It’s not about me anymore. I left her on that ship… and I have to get her back. Please, Yeosang. Please.”

There was a beat of tense silence. Yeosang was no longer looking at the pleading injured man, but his head angled towards the window, gazing at the pale moon that decorated the night’s horizon in deep thought.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” the blonde elf warned, narrowing his eyes. Wooyoung nodded vehemently. “Elves and pirates don’t mesh well together, I’m sure you know. Pirates are nowhere to be found in this country, they know well enough to steer clear of our waters. However… if you head westward past our nation’s border, you’ll find yourself in Cinisia. It might look like a small, harmless country, but I’m afraid you’d be gravely mistaken. Cinisia is perhaps the most dangerous country on the maps. Along their west coast, there’s an illegal trading market. Pirates swarm the coast like ants would spilt honey. If you’re looking for pirates, I’d bet all my silvers they’re there.”

Wooyoung took a moment to contemplate this. “How do you know of this market?”

“I’ve got into muddy territory with pirates myself,” he uttered with a stormy expression. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have said this before. Elves and pirates? Not the best of friends, I can tell you that.”

Releasing a shuddering sigh, Wooyoung asked one final question. “Do you think I’ll find them? Do you think I’ll get Y/N back?”

Yeosang leveled a cold gaze with the dark-haired man, before gracefully rising to his feet and striding towards the door. “I’ll get you a map and traveling clothes and rations. You can leave at first light, so get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.”

A sinking feeling weighed heavily in Wooyoung’s stomach. He hadn’t answered the question.

Right before he left, Yeosang paused by the arched doorway and spoke once more without even turning to look at him. “And just so you know… if you make it out of that market alive and empty handed… I want you back here in Nymaeden. There’s something I want to offer you.”

The elf left in a blur of sage fabrics and soft flaxen locks. The honeyed flames of the candles withered inwards with his departure, faint tails of smoke dissipated into the air. The room faded into darkness, but Wooyoung was far too afraid to shut his eyes.

He was scared of dreaming of you.

That morning was one of the toughest he’s ever had. Yeosang had handed him a pack of traveling rations and equipment, bidding him adieu with a stout nod of his angular face. His muscles groaned and screamed with agony with his every step. The trek to Cinisia took hours upon hours, with hardly a break. Wooyoung was far too jittery to stop. He had to keep going. Creeks babbled with glowing water and the trees whispered poems in the wind, their alluring shadows offering a tempting sanctuary.

The contrast between Nymaeden and Cinisia was startling. Whilst the former was a luscious country of opals and forestry and pale elegant fortresses climbing to the sky, the latter was… well, it was quite hard to tell what anything looked like past the thick red smog lacing the horizon. The air stank of ale and smoke.

Definitely pirate territory, Wooyoung surmised grimly.

The shrill noises of whistling and hollering was a telltale sign that he was close. Wooyoung stepped over weather-beaten rocks, peering around the rocky cliff ledge to see hundreds, perhaps even thousands of ruffians gathered together in a colorful flurry of stolen fabrics, foods, and riches that seemed all the more glorious under the sweltering sun. Now, it smelled strongly of stale fruitcakes and gunpowder and sweat. Not the best of aromas, that was for sure. There were also pirates yelling out indiscernible prices that seemed to climb with every shout. He was pretty sure he saw a couple of them scuffling in a fight, some landing a couple square punches (most missed because they seemed to be too drunk to aim properly) on the nose before brushing their injuries off as if it were nothing.

What an awful place. Wooyoung could only hope you weren’t here. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He’d do anything to see you again.

After digging his knuckles into his eye sockets to wipe his weariness away, he blinked the colored spots away from his vision with a melancholic sigh. Gods, he was tired. Unfortunately, he had little time to lament, so he pushed himself onwards.

Wooyoung seemed to blend in just perfectly; he was thankful Yeosang decided to pack in a tattered cloak. The rest of the pirates didn’t seem to bat an eye. Standing in the middle of a throng of filthy seamen, it was hard for Wooyoung not to double over and retch. His roiling stomach didn’t aid his precarious state one bit.

Though everything seemed to be a cacophony of rowdy pirates and the clattering of illegal trade, Wooyoung picked up on a particular chunk of dialogue exchanged between a gaggle of men.

“Have you heard of the siren incident? Yeah, it happened near the Isles of Odralle! Can you believe? Ship was fuckin’ headed to the capital of Odralle, but they had a sudden change of plans; suddenly wanted to go to Aurecia. Cocky bastards think they can sell anything to anyone nowadays, yeah? Good thing the sirens took them. Wonder if they were tasty, though. Stupidity fouls the meat, my father used to say,” one of the pirates rambled as he slurped on his ale.

“Your father was a jackass,” another snorted, pounding on his chest with laughter. “What the fuck is a ‘siren incident’? I swear you lot gossip ten times more than me wife does.”

A third pirate shoved at his shoulder, a look of incredulity painting across his tanned features. “How have you not heard? A famous pirate ship - maybe one of the most famous ones in history - got lured into siren territory! The whole crew’s gone. Ship wreckage hasn’t been found. Nobody’s heard or seen them at all. My guess is that they made a calculation mistake and went off navigation charts once switching from Odralle to Aurecia. Then the sirens… got the best of ‘em.”

This elicited a gasp from the fourth in the group. “Wait! The big ship with the peg-leg captain with just one eye? Damn, just hearing stories about him gives me the creeps. Legend had it that he defeated not one, but two fuckin’ krakens during a storm! His ship flag is, er, the red and gold one… with a skull, right? And the skull’s laying in blood and swords?”

Wooyoung felt his blood run cold.

He knew that flag. The flag they were describing… was exactly the one he saw before they took you… before they threw him out for the sharks…

And before Wooyoung could even think it through, he found his body jerking forward, pushing past the bystanders and throwing himself into the gossip circle with all but a mangled growl escaping his throat. He yanked the last pirate to speak forward by the collar until the tanned man’s face was so close, his nose brushed against Wooyoung’s. The rest of the gang immediately quelled their incessant yammering, eyes growing wide in interest. Some placed their hands onto the hilts of their curved swords as a precaution, but they didn’t want to do anything hasty. After all, they loved a good fight.

“WHEN WAS THIS?” Wooyoung was glad his voice didn’t crack as he yelled, shaking the stricken pirate by the collar. “There was… there was a woman on that boat. She can’t be gone! She can’t be dead!”

They all looked at him as if he were crazy.

And after a second longer, Wooyoung’s grip loosened. It seemed he was a little rougher than first anticipated, because the fabric around the tanned pirate’s neck was crumpled and one of the pearly buttons came loose, dangling by a thin thread. He staggered backwards two steps, painfully sucking in lungfuls of rancid air.

Were you… were you gone? Was that it? Had you succumbed to the siren’s sweet song of death?

“Mate,” the tanned pirate spoke up with a lilt of sympathy in his tone. “There was never any woman on that ship. And besides, the ship hasn’t actually been found yet.”

The fire of hope that once burned brightly within the hearth of Wooyoung’s chest, was now but a dying ember. However, the man’s words gently blew on the warm ash until a new flame ignited. This was a different kind of hope. Who knows, maybe you had managed to escape the sirens. For all that was good on this planet, Wooyoung hoped you were still alive.

It was then that the most peculiar thing happened.

A man (if he could even be considered a man) - perhaps one of the ethereal beings he’s ever set his eyes upon - strode up to the circle of pirates, leveling his stormy gaze with Wooyoung. His hair was a shocking shade of pink, laying in loose strands across his forehead. A dirtied tunic hung over his shoulders in tatters, ripped and frayed in too many places to count. The belt that cinched around his waist was lopsided and unbuckled, dangling to the floor. The trousers he was wearing, a dusted shade of raven’s wing, was in the same state of disarray as his tunic. He was a mess, and Wooyoung could see a thick film of distraught glazing his eyes.

“My name is San,” he rasped. “And I was on that pirate ship.”

The marble was cold beneath your scraped knees. Your eyes studied the golden rivets decorating the pale white floor, splintering off into branches of aureate, though it was quite difficult to see through the bruises and unyielding blood obscuring your vision. If your hands weren’t bound behind your back, you would’ve at least tried to staunch the crimson seeping out of the fresh cut you sported across your temple. The guards had thrown kicks and punches everywhere they could reach until you had stopped struggling, every fibre of your being felt nothing but raw pain and the kind of anger that left you completely and utterly exhausted.

You just… you wanted it to all be over.

However, with the King and Queen sitting tall and proud just meters in front of you, you highly doubted things would be resolved at the snap of a finger. Beside their majesties sat the rest of the royal bloodline, dainty crowns of lustrous tawny and glinting silvers resting upon their regal heads.

They made you sick.

“I must say,” the Queen purred at last, placing her chin on her palm while gazing at you with a malevolent smile, irises of amethysts glinting in the cold light. “It’s impressive how you managed to escape the dungeons in your condition. Even got yourself a pretty little boat and everything.”

You could feel yourself blanching. How did she know about the pirate ship you left by the beaches?

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, Y/N is only but a legend. Though nobody truly believes you’re real, you are still very much respected throughout the nation. And since you’re regarded so highly amongst the common folk,” the King rumbled, clasping his hands together with a smug leer tracing his lips. “You’ll be made a lowly servant for the lovely Princess, Amarelia.” He gestured further down the line, to a sweet young girl barely of age. The Princess was a frail thing, with skin of dove’s wings and lips of sweet peaches and lashes that kissed the apples of her cheeks. She somewhat resembled a fawn, what with her large eyes and innocently placant features. Her curled sienna locks were gathered into an elegant updo, showcasing the glimmering silver laces on her dainty neck.

The very ones that you tried to steal so long ago, and the entire reason you were even here. That necklace was what made you a well-known myth in Cerulea.

Anger broiled deep within you, but you kept your mouth clamped shut. There were guards ready to strike if you moved even a centimeter, and you decided to play it safe for now.

There was something you were practically dying to ask, though.

What did you do to Yunho?

“To welcome you into servitude,” the Queen surveyed you with hooded eyes. “Crawl to Amarelia and kiss her shoes. Thank us for not having you executed on the spot. Perhaps it shall give you an idea of your rank in this castle. You are nothing to us.”

“Mother!” The Princess gasped in protest with something akin to pity and horror melding into her soft complexion. It was clear that the sweet dove wanted nothing to do with this. In a way, you felt sorry for her as well.

Nobody paid her any mind.

With a heavy heart, you started shuffling towards the Princess. Pain and humiliation blossomed across your skin like flames crawling over oiled wood. A part of you considered standing your ground, lifting your head high, refusing to obey any of her commands. And you would’ve, truly. But… Yunho. If there was even the slightest chance he was alive and kept hostage because of you, you needed to remain on your best behavior. For his sake and even perhaps for your own.

Once in front of her, you dipped your head to quickly brush your lips against her fine cream flats, immediately straightening your spine with a grimace afterwards. Amarelia regarded you with a sympathetic look.

The guards stepped forward to roughly drag you back to your original spot. Your mind barely registered the cold sensation of metal clamping around your neck, the rattling of chains a ghostly echo in your ears. The Queen was grinning so widely it was a wonder her face didn’t split in half. It took everything you had in you not to spit onto the floor in defiance.

When they started tugging you towards the grand double doors, you realized that you couldn’t just sit around and allow them to throw you around like a ragdoll. You kicked out your feet in resistance, ignoring the cinching pain of the metal around your neck, boots thudding against the smooth marble surface. The guards swore under their breath, pulling you along ever harder.

“WHERE’S YUNHO?” Your hoarse voice ripped across the throne room. “DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL YUNHO?! LET GO OF ME! YOU MURDERER!” The small quirk of the Queen’s perfect eyebrows had you spouting out obscenities, rage bubbling over your struggling form.

Double-doors swung open, and with that action brought the largest crowd you’ve ever seen in your life. There must’ve been thousands - no, hundreds of thousands of people out there. And they’ve all come for you. The myth and the legend. Y/N L/N.

It was all so sudden. You didn’t even remember how you got to the front of the highrise platform, being forced back onto your knees with a grunt. There were common folk and wealthy lords alike littered about the ocean of heads. Some looked to be terrified, others watching on with hanging lips of awe.

You swallowed heavily.

“Behold!” The King bellowed from somewhere behind you. There was a sneering lilt to his tone that made you want to spring upwards and knock his teeth out. “Your beloved Y/N!”

The crowd in front of you erupted into pandemonium. It was a strange and overwhelming cacophony of displeased boos and excited screams.

“A legend and a hero to some of you, I’m sure,” the Queen hummed, somehow instantaneously quieting the buzzing mass of people. “Now diminished to a mere servant. Y/N L/N is nothing, and acting like they are worth any bit more than scum will lead to treason. I’m truly sorry to disappoint some of you.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all. The crowd practically roared at that, most especially the commoners at the back, yelling curses until their throats were raw as they threw moldy apple cores at the guards.

You hung your head in shame, gaze trained to the wood slants of the stage. Hushed murmurs travelled about the rest of the crowd like waves gently crashing against shore. You were alone on this beach, it seemed.

Truly, utterly alone.

You must’ve had the worst luck in the world.

No matter how much you’ve fought, struggled, resisted, it always ended up the same. With you kept captive. That musty jail cell because of a damned necklace, then bound on the pirate ship to be sold off in Aurecia (a part of your heart sunk at the memory of the friendly fairy-pirate San jumping overboard)… and now a different cell, your wrists chained to the cobbled wall behind you. Your arms were sore yet numb, almost having lost any feeling in them, but that was the least of your concerns.

It was bright here, unlike your first cell. Back then it was always dark, and always cold. There was a crackling fire across the room, licking hungrily at the burning wood, casting amber phantoms across the expanse of your place of confinement. It wouldn’t be long until the fire died out and you’d be shivering once more. There was also a small window, but it was far away from your reach, and you wouldn’t even bother to try, considering your arms were laced above your head.

Being back in the castle had your mind racing. Everything had been so loud outside. But now that you were alone with only your own thoughts to accompany you, it almost felt suffocatingly quiet. The silence was deafening, roaring awful things into your ears.

You missed Wooyoung. What would he do in your position? You hoped he wasn’t here, truly. He deserved to be happy elsewhere. But you couldn’t deny that a small part of you wished he was back here with you.

Face it, he’s not coming to save you, the snarky voice in your head spat out. Nobody is. You’re on your own. You have to save yourself.

It was at that moment the door creaked open. A man with silver hair slid in, grimness splayed across his defined features, like the wiry shadows of tree branches marring the warm light of the room. You spotted the medical kit he clutched in his sure hands.

He was the royal healer. It somewhat surprised you that the King and Queen sent him. Perhaps it was Princess Amarelia’s doing; she seemed to have a pure enough heart. Her parents, on the other hand…

“Are you alright?” His voice was a soft thing, a mere whisper, almost lost to the loud snapping of the fireplace. Hesitance was evident in his tone, accompanied with stinging sympathy. “I apologize, that was a foolish question. Of course you’re not, that’s why I’m here. My name is Seonghwa, I’m the royal healer for this castle. May I?” He brandished a bottle of strange blue ointment and cotton patches. You had just been humiliated and degraded in front of thousands of people, and now a royal healer was apologizing to you? He was certainly giving you whiplash.

After pausing for the slightest of moments, you dipped your head just slightly, still waiting for something bad to happen.

“Sarcio essence,” Seonghwa murmured gently as he doused the patch with the blue liquid. “Ceruleans steal it from the elves of Nymaeden. Its healing abilities are unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Ever since magic, of course. But that’s a thing of the past now. Magic is illegal in Cerulea. Not sure if you heard while you were down there in your cell.”

That made a frown flicker across your face. Cerulea, the ever-perfect country, needing to steal things from other kingdoms?

And with another stout nod, Seonghwa leaned forward to swipe at your fresh wounds and bruises, cleaning away the dried blood with nimble movements. It stung at first, restrained hisses escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like your skin was burning, and everything was on fire and the silent monsters were screaming your name.

“It’s a good thing if it stings a little. That’s your body working to put itself together.”

It was silent for a long time. You had to clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip so as to not let him hear your pathetic winces of pain.

The healer seemed to notice this, brows furrowing. “You don’t have to try to be strong around me, Y/N. You’re hurting, and it’s okay to show that. I won’t think any less of you.”

You eyed him with somewhat of a dubious aura, before bobbing your head for the last time. “Thank you,” you muttered brokenly.

Seonghwa hummed softly in response, screwing the cap back onto the sarcio essence.

The familiar creak of the door swinging open floated across the rooms, and you snapped your head upwards. Even the healer appeared to be surprised, bowing his head low at the newcomers. Also known as, if you had to put it eloquently, the true and utter banes of your existence. If you were the single flickering candle, they would be the tornados constantly whispering your flame good night.

It was the King and the Queen, draped in a waterfall of golden lace, diaphanous silver silks, and striking tones of mauve matching the hue of their angry irises. They held their heads high, looking at you as if you were the shit stuck on the bottom of their fine shoes.

“Leave us,” the Queen commanded Seonghwa without even glancing in the direction of the medic. She kept her gaze trained on you, and only you. Silently, he left the room with not another word, shuffling out of the door, unable to spare you one last sympathetic glimpse.

After surveying you, the Queen graced you with what seemed to be a smirk, and beckoned towards the guards behind her.

“Bring him in,” she said, practically dripping with delighted malice.

What happened next had you choking on your own gasps, tears immediately rimming your eyes like frost sitting atop tree branches on a harsh wintry morning. It had your stomach curling into itself, nausea climbing up your throat, begging to escape. A scream, so disgustingly raw and broken that it didn’t sound like your own voice echoed throughout the room.

They threw a peach-haired man in front of you, and he crumpled to the ground as if he were nothing more than a stringless puppet. If you thought that you were hurt, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to the sweet baker that you were so very fond of. He looked to be half dead already, bruises mapping the expanse of his pallid skin as abundant as there were stars in the sky. His once-bright pink strands of hair now looked a sullen grey, as if all the life had been seeped out of him. Dried blood crusted his cuts and gashes, littered all over his shivering form. You swore, with every fiber of your being, you were going to kill whoever hurt him.

“YUNHO!” You cried, heart lodged in your throat. The soft giant who had once been so boisterous, laid unmoving on the cobblestone floor. Kicking against the wall, you yanked away at your manacles fruitlessly until your wrists grew raw, wanting nothing more than to fall to your knees and crawl to him and ask if he was alright. It didn’t matter that you were hurting yourself in the process, you just… you wanted to get out of these chains, out of here, away from everything.

How dare they?

Tears were rolling down the apples of your cheeks, conjoining at your jaw and dripping mercilessly onto the ground. A constant drip, drip, drip of your pain made loud and clear to everybody else in the room.

You were so furious, so heartbroken, that you had forgotten anybody else existed for a short second. It was a shame that you were only reminded when one of the guards stalked up with the King’s nod of approval, gripping Yunho by his faded locks and yanking him upwards. His face didn’t seem to even flinch, numb and desensitized.

Was Yunho gone? No… no, he couldn’t possibly be…

A confusing concoction of sobs and desperate pleas and hiccups tumbled past your lips far too quickly for even you to understand yourself

The events that transpired rushed by in an indecipherable blur. You could barely pick up what the Queen murmured.

“This beloved baker friend of yours…” she cocked her head to the side in mock-thought, purple eyes flashing dangerously. “He is strong, I’ll give you that. However, he seems quite adamant not to give us any information about the other prisoner, Wooyoung. They were childhood best friends, no? I’m sure you remember him, don’t you?”

Your heart stopped at the sound of his name.

How dare you? How dare you? How dare you? The mantra reverberated in your skull until it was all you could think, staining your mind with an inky, poisonous black.

The mocking sympathy evident in her tone had you thrashing against your bonds all the more. “And alas… I’m afraid we no longer have any use for him.”

Just like that, the guard holding Yunho upwards drove his longsword clean through the gentle baker’s abdomen, dropping him to the floor. An ungodly wail tore from your vocal chords, resonating across the room and painting wicked smiles across the two royal leaders of Cerulea. Much to your horror, Yunho uttered no sound, merely dropping onto the stone with a thud. Crimson pooled at his wound so quickly, that the rose-hued ichor grazed against your feet in a matter of seconds. You stopped struggling, the drumming of your heart loud in your ears.

Since your gaze hadn’t left Yunho’s unmoving body, you didn’t even noticed the Queen sidestepping the puddle of blood, forcing your eyes away by gripping your slick face with one of her cold hands. You tried to pull your cheeks away, but it was as if her fingers were steel. Her purple eyes were so close to yours, you could see the flecks of aureate gold embedded within the enticing lilac. The Queen flashed you a charming smile, as if she hadn’t just murdered your friend in cold blood. It seemed she noticed your pounding heart rate, because she murmured an incantation in old Cerulean that you couldn’t quite pick up. In an instant, you could feel yourself relaxing in her grip, wrists going slack in the cuffs, the muscle in your chest thumping slower and slower. A part of you was afraid it would grind to a stop.

Her pearly whites flashed as she grinned evilly. The lavender in her eyes darkened drastically, to the point where any trace of gold disappeared completely.

“We didn’t kill Yunho,” she leaned closer and whispered into your ear, her tawny locks tickling the side of your face. “Killing is barbaric.”

There was an old story of a gingerbread man and a fox crossing a river you often heard retellings of during your childhood. The fox swore up and down that he wouldn’t eat the gingerbread man whilst helping him cross the river. As suspicious as the gingerbread man was at first, he eventually climbed onto the sly fox’s back, naive with hope. The fox arrived at the other side of the river alone and with a full stomach.

It seemed you were the foolish gingerbread man and the Queen was the fox. The Queen’s magic seeped into your being, clouding your mind in a dangerous haze you could no longer fight.

You believed her.

[mailboxmerchant]

PANIC

yall ever wonder it would be like to go into an idv match while dating dear ol gravekeeper? me 2, here you go!

character: andrew kreiss (grave keeper)

fandom: identity V

warnings: none? in game violence typa stuff! (and maybe some more rougher violence(?))

Tired and drowsy, you dredged your way back into the main hall of the accursed manor you had trapped yourself in. Match after match, hunter after hunter, injury after injury. You were exhausted, your only motivation to keep trying being your albino sweetheart.

"Y/N....you don't have to keep doing this to yourself, we can t-take a break if you want..." Andrew whispered as he reached down to pat your shoulder affectionately.

"I know, I know...But I can't give up yet." You sighed as you rested your hand over his, your hand shaking ever so slightly as you did. "Y/N, you-you're shaking...?" Andrew looked down at you in harsh concern, grasping your hand tighter as you leaned back to press the back of your head into his stomach.

Letting out another heavy sigh, you forced a weak smile as reassurance to Andrew. The both of you knew well that you were both reaching your limits, but neither were willing to stop until you gave in.

An expression of fear struck your face as you saw your hunter. "A-ahh....Wu Chang, huh?" You tightened your shoulder muscles, your grip on Andrew's hand growing harsh as you prepared to be downed in the first minute of the match. As your vision began to fade, indicating you'd be left in a random location somewhere in the hospital, you felt a cold pair of soft lips leave a kiss on your forehead, the chilly skin telling you it was Andrew.

Your heart was still and calm, and cautiously so, you began to sneak about rubble and rubbage to reach the nearest cipher. "Please don't let it be us first.....Please, god, please." you whispered as you began to tap away at the keys of the machine. When a more feminine voice screamed out, you guiltily let out a breath of relief, now knowing that Andrew would be okay for the time being.

About thirty seconds passed as you began to hear a quiet crumbling noise beneath the ground.

'Andrew!' you silently cheered as you prepared to help him out of the dirt. And as if on cue, a pale hand emerged from the ground. It was funny, similar to the dead raising, but you knew better than to make such jokes to Andrew.

Grasping his stiff, frigid skinned hand, you pulled your beloved out of the moist dirt. "Th-thank you.." Giving him a shy smile as a sign of "you're welcome", you both got back to decoding your half done machine. But of course, as your luck would have it, steadily your heart beat grew hard against your bony frame. "Andrew, go, dig!" At your command, Andrew gave a nod before grabbing your wrist and pulling you under his dirt tunnel with him.

As you felt your heartbeat hit harder and harder against your chest, your breaths became short and shaky. "A-Andrew..I can't..." But before you could get your words out, the two of you were yanked from the dirt and thrown to solid ground to continue by foot.

But the weak lungs that carried you weren't fully recovered yet, and eventually you got bashed on the shoulder as you were crossing a ledge, sending you reeling to the ground. "Sh-shit, I can't...stand..." Angry and wounded, you did your best to futily crawl across the ground to follow Andrew's dirt path he left in his wake.

A shining green light that emitted from Wu Chang's umbrella forced you to close your eyes for a few moments, the brightness just being too much for you after having been smacked down on a jagged concrete wall.

When you could see again though, you instantly wished you could go blind. Andrew was sprawled out on the floor, his shovel thrown far from him as he did his best to crawl to you. His face was harshly bruised, seemingly as though he had landed right on it after taking whatever injury he had sustained. "Y/N, h-help....me-" When you were readying up to heal him, he released a pained noise. As you looked up, a deep feeling of rage and panic bloomed in your core. Wu Chang stood smugly above your dear Grave Keeper, his umbrella piercing shallowly in the lower area of his back. His whimpers of pain were enough to push you to at least limp over to shock the hunter with a spare glove of Luca's you'd found in a chest. But Wu Chang sunk his pointed umbrella further into Andrew's spine as a warning.

Andrew's cries were sending you into a flurry of emotional panic now, your heartbeat now echoing painfully in your head as you cried out for him. It felt like all the colors and people you saw in front of you were melding together, your mind aching for some kind of relief as your eyes focused on the bright red that began to trickle into your vision. “y/n...y/n....”

“Y/N! Y/N!” Andrew’s voice was directly in your ear, your head now flush against the cool dirt. He was gently shaking you, just enough to snap you out of you illusive daze. “Wh-what the...A-Andrew!” You clung to him  like that breath was the last you’d ever take, squeezing the life out of him in the process. “Hmbph! y/n, i-it’s okay..” his voice brought you back down to Earth, his soft tone ringing like quiet music to your mind. His hands were placed at your shoulders as he kneeled in front of you. You were both sitting on the top floor of the run-down hospital, both exhausted, out of breath, and wounded to some varying degrees. 

Slowly, you eased your grip on the tall man’s shoulders, but as you let go, his hand met the side of your cheek, which you instinctively leaned into. Taking it as a sign that you’d be okay to go on, Andrew stood and offered a hand down to you. 

“You really scared me, y/n. You got launched off that window sill, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to get to you before you got g-grabbed...” You shushed his worried thoughts aloud with a finger to his lips. “I’m okay now. This can...be our last match for the night. I can’t handle another one of Wu Chang’s visions, and I think I’ve run you thin of energy...” You smiled sheepishly as Andrew’s cheeks grew redder as you kept your finger near his soft-skinned lips. 

You quickly pulled Andrew close, diving for underneath the creaky bed frame behind the tattered curtain. Your heartbeats thumped powerfully in sync as Wu Chang grew near again, his low chuckle indicating he was not happy you both escaped from his terror. You now held a finger to yours and Andrew’s lips, the both of you stifling your breaths to shallow, quiet ones. The noise of the gates being accessible breached the playing field, and Wu Chang quickly changed directions to go to the south bound gate entrance. 

Once you could no longer hear the thump of your heartbeat, you  made a quick audible note to yourself and Andrew.

“Detention.” You spoke in sync.  

While gaining an extra boost of stamina was rewarding, the stakes were now much higher with an even more dangerous hunter. 

Taking slow, even steps, you and Andrew made it down to the first floor of the dirtied hospital. 

“It’ll be okay, we just have to-” Cut off by a loud clattering, Andrew silenced himself and dove with you into a barely lit room, a hand over each of your mouths. 

“y/n? Andrew? It’s just me, guys.” Luca’s voice rang out from the hallway, his silhouette signaling that it was safe to come out. “The gates open, lovebirds, let’s go before he comes back.” 

Andrew led both you and Luca, taking role as the leader (pretty surprising to see!). Luca paid no mind to the fact you were holding hands, only giving you a smug look as per usual. When you finally reached the gate, you were all surprised to see Wu Chang was no where to be found. Either he was planning something, or he really though you’d all appear at the south bound gate. Regardless, now was the perfect time to make a break for it. 

“What are you waiting for, let’s go!” Luca called as he booked it for the exit. You turned to Andrew, giving him a confirming nod before pulling the both of you from your hiding spot and dashing for the gate. And just as you tumbled through, Wu Chang’s umbrella appeared directly above you both. Luckily enough, you both made it in time, Andrew taking the chance to tunnel underground with you to ensure a safe escape. 

word count:1440

[ninjas-and-coffee]

WU SUCKS but not the reason you think

I'd like to preface by saying Wu has made a lot of mistakes and should be held accountable. But like the main arguments against Wu be like.

1: Morro

2: Traumatizing kids

3: Keeping secrets

4: Mot treating his nephew like is damn nephew.

5: Flirting with his brothers wife.

And the thing about that needs talked about. 1:Morro. First off getting kids hopes is not cool. It can be detrimental to development depending on the age of the child. BUT. Not a single soul told Morro to train tirelessly for 60+ years after his death to take revenge and be the green ninja. Absolutly no one. Wu had compassion for his failings and wanted to show Morro he could still he great without being the green ninja. But the little brat ran tf off and got trapped and died. And he got cursed, how- we dont know. But its implied that it's either intentional entrapment or you have to be a terrible person, guess which category he probably falls into. Mind you Wu also told our OGs that they could also be the green ninja and none of them went off the rails to settle some invisible score. Morro made his choices and he made shit ones. Wu was an influence but not the problem. Morro is unstable, dramatic, and holds grudges Wu didnt cause that.

2: the traumatic experiences the nina go through are also not exactly his fault. He didnt just pick them off the streets. THERE WAS A PROPHECY. Ok? Yall with me. Fate isnt uncontrolled by anyone the ninja needed to be trained to help Lloyd fight the Overlord. That wasnt his decision. And yall act like the ninja couldn't leave whenever they wanted to. He didnt gaslight them or belittle them in anyway that wasnt for teaching. Please bring me receipts if you think otherwise. I do admit he could help a little more, be more clear, but when has a old magic teacher character ever been straightforward. With that logic fuck Dumbledore, and Gandalf, and any wise old teacher that goes to find chosen one who once again are chosen by fate not the master himself. Yall literally cant blame Wu for Child's Play and you cant blame Wu for their experience with Nadakhan either. The enemies that go out of there way to attack the ninja are not a direct cause if Wu himself. Usually. It be like blaming Garmadon for Chen. Yes they had history but it's still not his fault

3: Secrets. I will admit there is next to no reason for keeping secrets from the ninja. Considering history always has kind of score to settle. But considering his age and the apparent imprisonment or death of his past enemies there no way to predict every problem that comes back to screw him over. The Time Twins for example. Yes they came back for Wu. But he did remove their powers and separated them over 20+ years ago. They were not exactly threats to his new students now were they? Again with Aspheera, who was literally locked in a tomb why take the time to educate the ninja on a problem he had no idea was going to come back for him. Same with Morro to a more confusing degree. MORRO DIED. How was he to prepare the ninja for that? Yes please tell me how they were supposed to prepare for a dead guy. I'll wait.........k. he should be more forthcoming with the ninja, about things he knows could harm them, like the Serpentine after Lloyds released them, Chen, the Overlord, the effects of Travelers Tea, Tomorrow's Tea, Oni, Etc. But most of the time the ninja go and do it first then wonder why Wu didn't warn them.

4: His nephew. Wow his parenting sucks. Morro is not his damn child let's start there. Comparing their relationship is unfair. Wu cared for Morro the way he cares for Kai and Nya. He never accentuates a paternal relationship with then. Cause they are students, students he has to train with he intent to send them out onto dangerous battle fields and mind games. He was alone so yes it looks different but it's also a leap to just assume that Wu viewed Morro as his own despite treating him the exact same way as his 6 other students. Now back to Lloyd. Why didnt he get his nephew from Darkleys where it was known he ran away from multiple times? I DONT KNOW. No one does. That is a bad move I can only theorize about. Maybe Misako said something about staying away, maybe he wasnt kept in the loop about his nephews whereabouts due to idk KICKING HIS FATHER INTO HELL. C'mon yall. Now in the later seasons my best guess is that he doesnt know how to differentiate his nephew from the chosen one side and the goofy child side. Hes never had a child and his early relations with Lloyd were scarce and when Lloyd came to live with him. It's not due to some familial obligation, destiny literally called for it. Putting some definite strain on their relationship. I'm not excusing it he should try better, but he'd have to build a relationship from nothing and most people know their immediate family upon birth or during childhood which is not the case here. Wu treats his nephew more like a vessel of power than a person which isnt cool but knowing that the kid might not come back after every fight is a good damper on happy relationships is it not?

5: Misako. Good lord I don't have to explain this one. No excuse. It shouldn't be happening. BUT. After Garmadons death she was a free woman as gross as it is. It's more a flaw on her than it is him she chose to have a baby with one brother and still try to get with the other. And I know it takes two to tango but dont get mad at the idiot that the cheater is cheating with. Be mad at the cheater. The thing people really dont get about love triangles. The "other guy" brings on the questions/options but the person who cant choose or screws with both parties is the one in the wrong. Lloyd seems ok with it. Because Tommy said so. I dont particular give two shits about his take on the show half the time. If Lloyd were actively against it the Wu would probably stop. If the Fsm family acted like a normal ass family we probably wouldnt be here. But their priorities are a little screwy compared to typical nuclear families. Not an excuse just some perspective

NOW, why he is a bad character despite all of those arguments. he chooses to train soldiers rather than care for impressionable teens. Yes the situation called for it but the pressure could he alleviated if he decided to actually help before the world was on fire. He chooses to teach by experience than be upfront. Which works sometimes but not when actual lives are at stake. His trial by fire teaching works but the possiblity it could go wrong is to big to be brushed aside. His seemingly unreachable vault of empathy is hard to swallow. He rarely actually feels things for other people, his lack of enthusiasm when they pull through something hurts to watch. His lack of empathy about raising his nephew to attempt to kill his father is frightening. The pride he demonstrates by choosing not to disclose his past until it's too late is dangerous. He doesnt directly put down the ninja unless he has to and its more implied than anything and is on his students and this fandom for taking it so harshly. He trusts them a lot because he doesnt see them as kids anymore. They are warriors and it was necesary. He should have more compassion. He should be more straight forward, he should try to act like a person and not some ethereal being of elsewhere that doesn't have time to appease feelings or care about people until after hes wronged them. His values are off kilter sometimes which is whatever until it starts to hurt people

But yall need to stop blaming him for other people actions. Morro was a mess to begin with. His problems are in the past because he took care of them already. Misako came onto him. (He should have resisted but he didnt start shit she did). He needs to try to be an uncle alongside being a teacher. He needs to act like a fucking person more than the infinite cache of wisdom and unforeseen unused power that he acts like. And also it's a kids show. How many children think the way yall do?, we're teens/YAs we're reading into things. A LOT which makes everything more complicated. Comments rebuttals open. There's a collection of little mistakes hes made along the way that dont fit into these categories but these are the main reasons I know people hate him and the little things add fuel to the fire. I will legit talk about anything Except for the morro thing I am so tired of seeing it Morro made his choices hes a fucking Villain Wu didnt make him that way being a bitter asshole did that. Thanks for reading!! :3