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casuallyimagining · 8 months ago

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Selfish. || myg.

Less of Them - Two: Selfish.

NSFW. minors dni

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 5,461

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: implied domestic abuse, controlling behavior, depression, arguing, a slap, blood, discovery of a dead body, murder

Notes: thank you to @oddinary4bts for beta-ing this

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

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There’s a bustle in the castle that hasn’t been here for a year. It’s like the very stone–polished, whitewashed, ancient–is vibrating with excitement. After all, a royal wedding is an exciting time, and everyone must play their part. The cherry trees, hundreds of them across the property of the castle and in the castle town, are close to blossom. The merchants are busy building and sewing and crafting and baking. The stewards and keepers have cleaned the castle walls inside and out more times than can be counted.

You cannot find it in yourself to match their enthusiasm.

You stand on a pedestal facing a floor-length mirror, a seamstress on either side of you. They haven’t stopped touching you since they’d walked into the room. Slipping garments onto your body. Primping and adjusting the fabric so it lays just right. Measuring, pinning, tucking, tacking. The silk is heavy, like lead on your limbs, and they just keep layering it on. All of it is an elegant cream color–not white, despite tradition. Daniel had instructed the royal seamstresses. It was because of him, after all. White is too pure, too untouched.

Maybe, under different circumstances, worn by someone else, you would find the gown pretty. The silken fabric is soft and luxurious, a delicate floral pattern embroidered into the sleeves. The skirt is plain, but it flows well, and it’s a slightly richer color than the rest. There’s a small loop at the waist where a luck ornament will be attached. You haven’t seen it yet–the queen mother hasn’t yet presented it to you–but the handmaids have told you that it’s meant to bring many sons.

But honestly, you’ve avoided looking–really looking–at any of it, your focus solely on the leather toe of your shoe sticking out from under the fabric of your dress. You were never too mesmerized by your reflection, but now… It’s hard to reconcile what you see with what used to be there. Your hair is longer. You’ve lost weight. A bruise peeks out from under the collar of your dress. There’s a hollowness in your eyes, and worse, there’s a hollowness somewhere deeper. A meekness that you don’t recognize, but that’s been gnawing at the edges of you for nearly a year now.

You don’t recognize yourself. You don’t want to recognize yourself.

“Have you seen him yet?” You hear one of the handmaidens ask as the seamstresses pin the fabric at your sleeve.

The other handmaiden groans softly. “I’ve been stuck inside all day. Kagha asked me to shine the silver.” Kagha is the stewardess of the castle, and she’s been running around like a crazy person of late trying to prepare for the wedding.

The first handmaiden leans closer to the other. You’ve seen her around, but you have no idea what her name is. “He’s gorgeous,” she whispers, so quiet you almost can’t hear.

“Shame he’s from the forest,” the second handmaiden laments, standing. Her arms are full of linen.

You hum. It’s been a long year. A lonely year. You’ve learned a lot, and you know you’ve done a lot of growing to meet the needs of the position you find yourself in. But that doesn’t mean that the path hadn’t been lonely. And you’d finally managed to convince Daniel to allow you to send a letter to your father, asking him to send you someone to serve in the castle.

Based on the handmaidens’ reactions, he’s sent Seokjin.

It makes sense. Out of anyone your father could have sent, Seokjin is the most likely to fit in at the castle and in Castle Town. He’s charming and smart, and knows how to hold himself at court. And, more than anyone, Seokjin knows–or assumes–how careful one must be in this life, too.

There’s an excitement bubbling in you that you haven’t felt in a while. Your step-brother. Here. Finally, a friend. You leave the seamstresses when they’re finished, an almost giddy bounce to your step. It leads you all the way to the King’s Council Chamber–if Seokjin is here, that’s where he’ll be. Daniel may not have greeted you on your arrival to the Ironhold, but he would certainly not risk snubbing the eldest son of one of the old families.

You stand outside of the council chamber, suddenly unsure. The excitement has faded, replaced with the roiling unease that comes with being anywhere near this room. You should wait. As excited as you may be to see Seokjin, you don’t want to risk Daniel’s ire at your interruption. So you stand there, outside the door, far enough away so that you aren’t in anyone’s way.

After a moment, you can feel your heartbeat start to pound in your ears. Maybe waiting is a mistake. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can make it back to your chambers. Maybe you can wait there. You nod to yourself. That’s a better idea. You’ll wait for them to come to you.

You’ve just turned to go when the door opens, the hinges creaking lowly with the motion. You can hear Daniel’s voice, but it’s Eden, Daniel’s younger brother, who walks out first. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, half fleeing, and you can hear him make a little noise of surprise. It doesn’t last long, though, because as soon as Daniel spots you, Eden’s face schools into something neutral.

Daniel stops mid-word to question you. “What are you doing here?”

“I-” Your words stick in your throat. You shouldn’t be here, but you’re frozen in place. And then, just when you think things can’t get worse, a dark head of hair and curious, feline eyes poke out from around Daniel’s form.

You freeze, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole. You feel yourself wilt, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of how you’re standing, how awkward your arms feel at your side, how rigid your spine feels. It’s not Seokjin. You could never be that lucky.

Daniel stalks toward you and roughly grabs your upper arm. His fingers dig in, pressing into your flesh. You wince ever so slightly–it hurts, the bruise already there is an angry deep purple–but quickly, you school your face into something more pleasant.

“We’ve talked about this,” Daniel says. His voice is even, but you can hear the undertones.

You should not be here.

You’re embarrassing me. Again.

We will discuss this again later.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out softer than you’d like, and you wonder if he can hear the slight tremble, or if it’s just you. “I… I thought it was Seokjin and I…” You trail off, eyes falling to the stone floor.

The king jerks you closer, grip like a vise on your upper arm. “You what?”

“I got excited.”

He hums. “I see.”

Off to your left, Eden clears his throat. “Brother. You have a meeting with Mother and the High Priest in the garden soon. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Daniel nods and squeezes your arm. “We’ll discuss this later.”

The brothers leave, and suddenly, the hall is quiet. The few guards that had been milling around follow Daniel and Eden out. You clear your throat, unable to meet the dark eyes that watch you curiously. He’s never been to the Crownlands, and your brain latches onto an idea.

This doesn’t have to be awkward.

“Have you seen the grounds?” you question finally, shifting your weight.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Would you like to?”

You can feel him looking at you, can feel the questions hanging in the air. Thankfully–and surprisingly–he says nothing, simply motions for you to lead the way.

“The castle was built nearly 800 years ago by the Choi family. Because of tensions at the time between the royal family and the rest of the old families, the Ironhold was built to be nearly impregnable, with oil chutes built into every staircase and balistraria in every exterior wall.” You gesture to one of the arrow slits in the wall, where the sunlight from the mid-spring sun peeks through the thick stone. You know that he knows all this–he sat through almost as many of your father’s history lessons as you did–but it helps to keep talking.

And to his credit, Yoongi listens patiently. He follows dutifully at your side, pausing to look at things you point out and nodding along where appropriate. You can’t show him everything–that would almost be impossible as the castle grounds are so large. But you walk him through parts of the gardens (“There are over 1,000 cherry trees on the castle grounds.”), and show him the fish ponds (“The fish have been imported from the Eastern Coastlands. Some of the koi are descendants of the original fish brought in when the ponds were built 300 years ago!”). You walk past the Queen Mother’s private residence in the southern part of the castle grounds and show him the knight’s barracks and the training grounds.

All of the buildings on the castle grounds look the same. It had taken you a few months to actually learn where everything was and what each building housed. Tall, sloping, whitewashed walls, deep blue tile roofs, sharp corners and rectangular windows. A far cry from the curved staircases and round windows and dark woods of Castle Blackwood.

Re-entering the castle proper, you show him the Grand Hall, where important dinners are held, and the king’s dining room. And finally, finally, you end the tour of the castle grounds on the second floor of the western tower where your chambers–and the chambers of personal guards and hand servants–are. You’ve known for a while that there was a room designated for your own personal guard, so you end up in front of that door.

“This is yours,” you tell him, gesturing to the door. It’s not as thick or as dark as the ones back at Castle Blackwood, but you grew accustomed to those small differences long ago.

He stands there, his hand on the brass doorknob, gaze soft as he takes you in. You can see his eyes dart briefly to where the bruise peeks out from under your collar and feel yourself shrink away. You don’t want to know what he sees when he looks at you.

“Come in.” His voice is gentle, almost as if he’s speaking to a wounded animal. “Let’s catch up.”

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It’ll make it harder to move forward–to move on. But then he says, “Please,” and you’ve never been able to resist the softness of his eyes. So you let him lead you into his chambers and shut the door.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you in a dress,” he says quietly. He stands in front of you, a little awkward. He keeps rubbing his hands together, patting down his trousers. It’s little comfort to know that he’s just as nervous as you are.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?” You don’t mean to snap, but it just kind of happens. You aren’t sure what this means–what it means for him, let alone what it means for you. There’s a pit in your stomach that feels almost like you swallowed a rock, and you do your best to steady yourself.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you here? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t it have been Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any- anyone else?”

He reaches into his doublet and pulls out a folded piece of parchment. It’s a little crumpled, the edges a little worn, like it’s been read many times. You catch a glimpse of a forest green wax seal still clinging to the top edge, and immediately you know what it is.

“Maybe we’re both a little selfish.” The way he says it, you can feel your heart sink.

Of course you know what the letter says. It haunts you, but at the time, you thought you were doing the right thing. You still do.

I hope that, in time, you can move on. That eventually, you will find yourself in love. That you will find happiness again. It’s selfish, but I will only be able to live through this with the hope that you are happy and living a life that is worthy of the care you’ve shown me.

Find someone who loves you as much as I do. For my sake, if nothing else.

You want him to be able to move on and live his life. You want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy. And you would sacrifice your own happiness a hundred times over if it meant he could have the life he deserves.

Yoongi reaches out, and your heart races. You tense, an automatic reaction, and his hand pauses mere centimeters from your cheek. A look of confusion crosses his dark eyes that quickly morphs to understanding and then sadness. His hand falls back to his side.

“How did you get that bruise?” His voice is casual, but you know him, can practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

You tug the collar of your gown so that it covers better. “I tripped.”

“And bruised your shoulder?”

“I’m still getting used to the gowns.”

He hums. You know he knows you’re lying. But you aren’t sure how much you want to allow him back in yet. You aren’t sure how much you want to drag him down with you.

He sighs, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he looks at the letter that’s still in his hands. “I tried,” he says softly. “For the first few months, I thought that if I could just convince myself that I was mad at you, it would be easier. I tried so hard to hate you, to blame you for leaving, make it your fault.” He looks up at you, then, and you can see a shine to his eyes. He reaches out again, but this time, the tips of his fingers brush against your hand. “But I couldn’t. It’s not fair, but it’s even less fair for you. And I want to be here. I know it won’t be easy, but I want to be here with you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Your eyes sting, and there’s a lump in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down.

Hours later, you’re alone in your chambers. Dusk has fallen, the handmaidens have already been through to light the few candles on the tray near your bed. You sit on the chaise under the open window, a gentle spring breeze lightly caressing your skin. Silently, you stare down at the wooden box in your hands.

It’s dusty. You haven’t touched it since placing it on the shelf when you’d first arrived in the Ironhold. You can see the fingerprints from how you’ve held it over the past half-hour. Gently, you wipe the dust from the gilded leaves of the thistle and press them in. A soft ‘click’ echoes through the inside of the box.

You take the contents out carefully. Sketches from one of the artists in the Forest Town–one of you, your father, your step-mother, and Namjoon and Seokjin; the other of you and Yoongi. You look much younger here, even though the drawings were only done a few years ago. It feels like an eternity. The real reason you’d pulled the box off the shelf, though, is still in your hand, wrapped delicately in a piece of cloth you’d ripped from a pair of your trousers.

Once it’s unwrapped, you hold it between your thumb and your forefinger and inspect it in the low light.

Part of you feels guilty that this is the first time you’ve looked at it in almost a year, that you can’t wear it, even on a chain around your neck, or at the very least that you can’t display it in some way. You shouldn’t have accepted it. But there’s no way you could have known it would have spent a year hidden away in a secret compartment in a wooden box, wrapped in the fabric of the trousers you can no longer wear.

You suppose there are things about the world your father couldn’t have thought to teach you.

He couldn’t have prepared you for everything you’ve learned here. How to break yourself down, brick by brick, and rebuild from the ground up. How to change how you talk, how you think. To change your personality to be more likable, less loud, less prominent. To change how you walk, how you stand, how you take up space. A good queen knows when to enhance her king’s spotlight, but also how to fade into the background. She’s firm but quiet. She defers to her husband’s opinions, she doesn’t shape them. And certainly, she knows naught of how the king’s court functions.

He could never have taught you that there’s a special kind of loneliness reserved only for future queens, when you arrive in a new city and no one knows you and no one likes you and no one wants to know or like you. You’ll just be another fixture in the Crownlands, a figurehead with no power, a vessel with no thoughts. There for one thing–maybe two, if you’re lucky–and ignored the rest of the time.

You miss home, miss having things to fill your time with. You miss the activity of Blackwood Castle–there was always something going on, even if it was something minor. Now, you feel as though you spend most of your time daintily draping yourself across chaises and windowsills, watching the world pass you by. You’d tried to go to the library once and were barred entry (“The queen has no need for such knowledge!”). You’d been banned from the council chambers (“How dare you embarrass your king in front of the Eastern traders!”). You couldn’t watch the knights spar, couldn’t sit by as the dog trainers did their work, couldn’t stroll the streets of the Castle Town.

The sound of guard boots in the hall draw your attention, and you jump, hurriedly re-wrapping the ring in cloth and slotting it and the two drawings back into the secret compartment in the box. You press the thistle flower and manage to wipe the rest of the dust off the front just as the door to your chamber opens.

Daniel stands there, the Realm’s unshakeable king, smelling of wine and grinning like the dog that caught the hare. He doesn’t say anything, merely shuts the door behind him and yanks the bolt in place to lock it. You embrace him as he approaches, allowing him to push you back onto the bed.

After he leaves, you stare at the ceiling and hope that someday soon, you’ll start to feel less hollow again.

It takes mere days for Yoongi to fully integrate into life in the Ironhold. Or, perhaps, integrate is the wrong word. It takes mere days for him to disappear. Once it’s clear he’s there to stay, he’s no longer a novelty, overshadowed by the wedding looming over the next couple days. He goes with you to dress fittings, sits behind you out of the way when you meet with the clergy. He even accompanies you to meet with the Queen Mother. You’re shocked that she allows him to stand in on your conversation, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’re a little glad she does.

“My knights followed me everywhere over the years,” she says casually, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I expect you’d want yours to do the same, forest bumpkin though he is.”

The Queen Mother sits at a small table near the window. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, simply stares out at the garden as if she’s inspecting the very plants for quality of growth. It’s uncanny how much her sons have inherited from her. Daniel has the same intense, calculating gaze, and both he and Eden have her high cheekbones and downturned lips. They’ve all got the same dark, glossy hair and downturned eyes.

You stand there, waiting for her to address you again. It’s awkward, but you dare not move. You can feel Yoongi’s presence behind you–he’s been quiet all morning, but you can tell that he has thoughts about life in the castle. You ignore him. Instead, you focus your attention on the table in front of you and the Queen Mother’s cup of tea.

Finally, the Queen Mother brings her attention back in your direction, leveling a gaze at you that reminds you just how scrutinized you’ve been since you arrived at the Ironhold nearly a year ago. She studies you for a moment before raising her teacup to her lips. “I suppose you’re expecting me to give you the norigae for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

That had been why you thought she’d called this meeting. The seamstresses who’d been working on your gown said the Queen Mother would give you a lucky decoration. They’d said it was a big honor, that it was tradition. Now, you’re unsure. Still, though, you nod quietly.

The Queen Mother hums. Her gaze burns into you, and when you fidget where you stand, she frowns. “Danny has said that your dress is to be cream.”

“It’s pretty.”

“It’s not white.” Her tone is as sharp as her glare. It’s an accusation.

You swallow. “I do as my king asks.”

“The traditional norigae has been passed down for generations in the Choi family,” the Queen Mother says. She does not look at you, merely glares down at her tea cup. “It’s supposed to bring great luck to the marriage and many sons. It’s meant to be given to a king’s bride to both welcome her into the Choi family and celebrate the pure gift she brings with her.”

It scares you a little, how she says it. It almost sounds like a threat, though you aren’t quite sure what she’s threatening you with. What you do know, though, is that you probably should be scared of whatever it is.

“Do you think you deserve that?” she questions.

“I…”

You aren’t sure what to say. You aren’t sure there’s anything you can say. You’ve willingly allowed Daniel into your bed when he’s come calling. He’s the king and the man you are to marry. This is your life now.

Her question lingers as you wrack your brain for something–anything–to say. Thankfully, she puts you out of your misery.

“I suppose I must. Tradition is tradition, after all.” She sighs. “I will give it to the dressmakers tomorrow before the ceremony.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

“You may go.” There is no room for argument.

The trek back through the gardens and to your chambers is silent. Yoongi is quiet as he follows you, the only signs that he’s there are his shadow following yours and his footsteps echoing off the stone floors of the castle. He shuts the door behind you as you enter your room, sliding the steel bolt into place to lock it.

“That’s not necessary,” you tell him, collapsing onto the chaise at the foot of your bed. You’re exhausted, and there’s something heavy growing in your chest. “You can return to your own chambers. I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

He doesn’t move, and when you look up at him, you can see the conflict in his eyes. After a moment, he seems to decide on something, because he takes a cautious step forward.

“You know you don’t have to put up with any of this.”

“What?” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

“We could run away.” He’s closer now, kneeling in front of you. Carefully, he takes your hand, holding it as though it were glass.

You shake your head. “You know that’s not possible.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand, dark eyes pleading. “We could go somewhere far away. Somewhere they couldn’t find you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“You’re exactly who I’m worried about.” His tone is firm. “This place is poison, it’s… it’s-”

“It’s fine, Yoongi.” His touch is electric on your skin, and you jerk your hand away, burned by his proximity. “This is my duty. This is my life.”

“It’s not fine!” He stands, clearly frustrated. “You don’t deserve how these assholes treat you. No one does. The Westerlands can deal with whatever comes from-”

“Loyalty does not yield.”

“Fuck that! Have some sense!”

“Get out.” You say it as loud as you dare, not wanting to draw the guards but desperate, so, so desperate, for him to leave. When he doesn’t move, you pick up the closest thing to you—a soft-bound journal—and throw it at him. The book hits him in the chest with a dull thud and plops to the ground.

A pillow follows. Then another. A blanket. Your hair brush. Anything you can get your hands on, you hurl in his direction. If he would just leave and let you rest. You’re exhausted. Dear God, why won’t he leave? Eventually, you’re out of ammunition, everything else around you being too heavy or too large to throw with any sort of accuracy. Yoongi, to his credit, has stayed stock-still throughout the ordeal, unflinching despite the onslaught.

You stalk over to him, blood pressure rising. There’s a headache stirring behind your eyes. The pit grows inside of you. “Go. Now.”

“No.” He says it so calmly.

“Stubborn fool. I will send you home.”

“Listen to yourself,” he pleads. “This isn’t you, you don’t-”

Your palm stings.

Why does your palm sting?

You look down, confused, and see your skin a shade of angry red. Movement in front of you draws your attention. For the first time since you’d thrown the journal, Yoongi moves. His hand comes up to cup his cheek; your gaze follows his arm as it moves. There, hidden by his hand, his skin begins to blossom pink.

It’s like you’re sucked out of your body. You can see yourself standing there, cradling your stinging hand, staring in bewilderment at the red that blooms across his skin. A silent moment passes. But then you feel something, deep within you. At first, it’s nothing more than a tremor, a slight tremble within you, but then it builds. Your heart races. Whatever was left of you—whatever you’d been able to claw and cobble together over the last year—implodes. You can feel it shatter within you, a thousand times more powerful than the initial destruction. And with it, you crumble.

Yoongi approaches you cautiously, like he’s coming up on a wounded animal. “What can I do?” he asks, his voice soft, kind. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Leave,” you beg.

You regret it. You regret contacting your father. You regret asking him to send someone. Why you thought having any of them here would be helpful–or why you’d never considered it would be him–you’ll never know. You can survive here–you were surviving here. But at what cost?

It hits you hard, blindsiding you like a sudden storm. The truth is, you’re scared. What if the old you–the you he fell in love with… What if she’s gone? What if she can’t come back? What if she died the day you climbed into that carriage, replaced by this hollow husk of a person you are now?

You suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re here. Yoongi is here. Tomorrow, you will marry Daniel. And from there, you will take things as you have. One day at a time.

Eventually, you manage to pull yourself together. Your face still feels stiff and puffy, but you refuse to remove the cloth you’ve draped over the mirror, so you don’t know if it really is. You’ve got a headache–all the pressure behind your eyes and in your cheeks is enough to make you feel like your head is splitting open. Part of you just wants to go to sleep. But it’s barely mid-afternoon, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’re supposed to be doing.

The wedding is tomorrow, but you’ve gotten almost no direction from anyone on what should be happening. You suspect that something should be happening, but you have no idea what it could possibly be. As a child, you spent more time climbing trees and tormenting Namjoon with Yoongi than dreaming of your wedding, but even still. This feels like a business transaction.

A knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and it takes a moment for you to gather yourself. Your mind is a little hazy as you slide the bolt unlocked and open the door, but when you see Eden standing there, you force yourself to come to your senses. The prince bows slightly with his head, inclining it forward ever so slightly. It’s respectful, but only so much–he’s still the one with royal blood.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, stepping into the room. You haven’t really invited him in, but you step aside anyway and close the door behind him. “I heard that mother may have accosted you over the norigae this morning.”

“She was within her right,” you tell him softly.

Eden hums. “Still. You’re to be part of this family. Mother is just disappointed that she won’t be the most important woman in Daniel’s life anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s remotely true.”

He snorts, a wry smile on his lips. In the year you’ve been at the Ironhold, Eden has become your favorite person here. You don’t particularly trust him, but of everyone that lives in the Crownlands, he seems the most normal.

Casually, Eden wanders over to a window, looking out over the courtyard several levels below. “It is my hope that things will get easier for you in time.”

From where you’re sitting, that seems almost impossible. But you don’t want to quash his optimism. So you smile politely and nod.

“I brought you something,” Eden tells you, and the way he says it, it sounds almost like a conspiracy.

Carefully, he pulls a long strip of fabric out of his pocket. It’s a beautiful silk, red as blood–the chosen color of House Choi. He holds it out with both hands.

“Technically, my brother should be giving this to you,” he says as you take it. “But I don’t think he cares so much about keeping to every tradition. Just the ones that are convenient to him.”

You can feel something thin and hard inside the silk. Eden nods, and you gently unfold the fabric. Inside is a hairpin, shiny silver and around the length of your hand. The end is an intricate dragon head, expertly forged, and in its mouth, a bright red gem. The same dragon that stands resolutely on the Choi family crest. It’s pretty, but something about it makes your heart hurt.

“Tomorrow, you will become a dragon,” Eden says. “You should be able to dress like one.”

“Th-thank you.” You can barely manage it, and you hope that he takes your struggle as emotion and not the war that’s starting to wage within you.

After Eden leaves, the hours pass slowly. You aren’t sure what time it is when Daniel stops by your chambers. He barely speaks to you, but you can tell something is different about tonight. He stays longer after, falls asleep in your bed, on top of the coverlet. You aren’t sure when you drift off, only that you do.

You aren’t quite sure what wakes you up. It’s late. Or maybe early. It’s pitch dark–you can’t even see candles in the windows across the courtyard. Mysteriously, Daniel is still beside you. You’ve awoken on your side, so you can’t see him, but you can feel the dip in the mattress and the pull of his body on the blankets.

But there’s something else. Your blankets almost feel damp, the linen heavy with an extra weight. You sit up, curious, and immediately notice a spot that pools around Daniel. It’s soaked down deep into the mattress, the spot dark, almost black, in the dark of night. You reach out and touch it, and though you aren’t sure what you’re expecting, it’s sticky.

“My king?” you ask softly, touching his arm. He hasn’t moved since you woke, and you have a sinking sense that something is horribly wrong. When he doesn’t rouse, you shake him. “Daniel?”

There’s no response. His arm is stiff. He does not move. Your skin is sticky. You shake him harder, so hard that he rolls over. For a moment, you believe he’s awake. But then you see the cloth sticking out of his parted lips. And the gaping hole in his neck.

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sugarcubetikki · 5 months ago

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Okay. I am annoyed by the everything so I’m gonna go ahead and debunk all the arguments against the Francesca X Michaela storyline.

In case you weren’t aware of all the complaints going around, here they are:

they’ve completely changed the storyline from the books! francesca’s infertility storyline was sooo important and now it won’t happen!

eloise would’ve made more sense as the queer bridgerton, her and cressida or some other female character would’ve been great over francesca.

by immediately making francesca attracted to michaela they downplayed john and her’s relationship that was built up this season, they cheapened the book storyline into a cliche love triangle!

michael was the best book hero ever! I can’t believe they’ve changed him to michaela.

I am taking all these criticisms/complaints at face value and ignoring any lesbophobia undertones (for now) just to prove how flawed they still are on their own.

Firstly, saying that Francesca’s infertility storyline has been ruined is far from the truth. Instead it can be done in a different way. Think about Francesca in a queer relationship and wanting kids in the kind of society she lives in. It basically mirrors the infertility storyline from the books except her struggles would become representative of the struggles that queer people who want kids face. If they went for this storyline in her season, I think it would be really really nice, we’ve seen a straight infertility storyline play out so many times, this would be great.

Secondly, I am so tired of hearing that it should’ve been Eloise over Francesca. I don’t think Eloise would’ve made more or less sense as a queer women. I think any and every character has the potential to be written as queer or straight. Being an outspoken women with little interest on marriage shouldn’t make Eloise more queer. I also really liked the idea of a potential Eloise X Cressida romance but that does not mean Francesca cannot be queer. In fact, I’m excited to see this introverted autistic queer girl rep! Francesca, go prove we exist.

Thirdly, Francesca’s season hasn’t even happened yet! Getting mad over one scene of Michaela, saying that John and Francesca’s relationship has been downplayed and that we’re in for a cheapened love triangle story is so unreasonable. It was a single scene and people are choosing to get mad over something that hasn’t even happened yet? Besides, if this storyline plays out, it wouldn’t mean that Francesca shouldn’t have been made queer but simply that the writers didn’t write the storyline to your liking. The fact that there’s this much outrage over this is so ridiculous to me. Wait till her season. We have no idea how they’re going to play out the storyline just yet so stop hating already (there may be some lesbophobia implications to this claim which I have spoken about below).

Fourthly, I know it’s not a nice feeling to not get the chance to see a beloved book character onscreen due to this gender swap. It may feel unfair but I mean but…give Michaela a chance? We haven’t seen her personality yet and we don’t know how Masali will bring her character to life. If your qualms are that the love interest is no longer a guy you can fetishise and fawn over, then well…log out of the internet, rant to a friend and stick to the books. Let the sapphics have their wlw romance that we rarely get these days because we keep getting cancelled since streaming services hate gay women. And no that is not an exaggeration but our plain reality. So let us have this.

Finally, to end things off, let us address the lesbophobia aspect to this separately because it is 100% worth mentioning.

The treatment towards queer women onscreen is hardly the same as the hype around queer men.

We can see it in the way streaming services and the internet hype up gay romances whilst sapphic romances are largely ignored and cast to the side (just to make it clear I have nothing against people enjoying mlm romance I enjoy mlm romance all I’m saying that it’s a real shame that wlw romance doesn’t get the same amount of appreciation).

The response to Francesca X Michaela has been largely negative and it’s frustrating. Outside of the cosy gay rabbit hole that tumblr is, there’s just outrage over this storyline/pairing for a number of different reasons that well…all feel ridiculous.

Bridgerton has gone off the books many times yet there’s more outrage than before when it comes to Francesca X Michaela?

Fans are getting a lot more defensive of John and Francesca’s relationship despite knowing he was never going to be endgame all because of Michaela? I’m sorry but I’m sure that if Michaela was Michael and we got the exact same scene with Francesca, do you think there would be as much outrage over John and Francesca’s relationship being downplayed? No. Let’s be honest. People wouldn’t be as mad because there’d be an attractive man involved.

I think the sapphics deserve so much more and better treatment from fellow non-sapphics. Instead of a show of appreciation, we keep getting unreasonable amounts of fire onto this storyline that hasn’t even happened.

What’s worse is that I know that Francesca X Michaela’s romance could follow the story beats of previous seasons that were eaten up by fans and still be bad to people because sapphic romances are just judged more harshly as straight audiences refuse to connect with them. If their romance isn’t phenomenal and just good, then it won’t be enough which is just frustrating.

So yeah, the hate towards Francesca and Michaela is unwarranted and unjust. People need to calm down and realise that their claims are contributing to lesbophobia whether they realise it or not.

#all this hate on pride too smh #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #francesca bridgerton #michaela stirling #francesca x michaela #lgbtq #wlw #bridgerton season 3

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thecubspeaks · 1 month ago

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[Gale/Shadowheart, because my boss is randomly not in today]

The water laps softly against the dilapidated dock and Shadowheart beckons him over. The others are discussing plans, swapping gear, the air heavy with an inexplicable certainty that this is a point of no return. Gale sends her a silent, questioning look, but approaches, tucking themselves just far enough from the others that they can speak quietly and not be overheard.

Shadowheart just looks at him a moment, green eyes solemn, her pale hair bright even in this dim underground light. She reaches out and lays a hand on his chest, over the orb. Automatically, he lays his hand on top of hers.

“She never took it away.” Her voice is very, very quiet.

“The orb? I’ve explained, she will once I–”

“The spell. The charm Elminster brought you. To detonate it, should you need to. She still wants you to be able to do it.”

Gale can’t speak for a moment. But such moments never last, for him. He forces out a laugh. “I could hardly bring her the crown in that case.”

“Then why didn’t she take back the spell?”

It isn’t like that, he wants to protest. Shadowheart has seen the worst of a goddess’s vindictiveness, and– well, yes, at times Gale has felt that he has, too. But Mystra has forgiven him, or at least begun to. He has promised his way back into her grace, and she will cure him. This is the beginning now.

But none of that actually answers Shadowheart’s question.

Shadowheart clenches her fist in his robes. She, of course, knows all too well what it means in those vanishingly rare moments when even he cannot supply something to say. She is one of the only people– perhaps the only person– with whom he feels he can be silent. But this is not the easy silence that settles on them when they sit together in the early mornings, she in prayer and he in study, or at the end of a long day when they have both tapped the very depth of their magical ability and just sit, slumped together on his bedroll or hers after everyone else has gone to sleep.

When Gale can’t break it, Shadowheart does.

“You can’t. You have to promise.”

He tightens his hand around hers. “I can’t promise that.”

“You have to.” She squeezes her eyes shut. The first time he saw her cry was only a tenday ago, when he held her in front of a crumbling statue of Selune and felt his eloquence fail him once again as he tried to reassure her that she had freed her parents– that she had done the right thing. He can hear the threat of tears now, but they haven’t fallen. “I can’t… I won’t let you.”

“We cannot know what we will find when we reach the brain,” Gale says. It feels like something inside of him is crumbling apart. The newborn confidence, perhaps, that all could go back to the way it had been. That he could be himself, Mystra’s Chosen, once more, and the rest– the orb, the demand she made– could somehow be forgotten. That he could unknow what he has learned about the whims and will of gods. “If it comes to a choice between me or the entire world…”

Her eyes flash open, and she pins him with a look of fierce determination he hasn’t seen in a long time– perhaps even since the Shadowfell, since Shar spat her out a crumpled heap on the ground, looking like something inside of her had broken for good.

“I choose you. I choose to believe in you, in us.” Her gaze softens slightly, but there is still a stubborn set to her jaw. “If this is the end, my love, then it’s the end for both of us. But I have had enough of loss.”

“I don’t want to die,” he whispers, his own voice growing rough. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then promise, you idiot,” she says. “Now is not the time to suddenly discover humility. There will be another way, and you will find it. So promise.”

He laughs and bends to kiss her, heedless if the others see– and for once, she seems to be, too. But they’re either too distracted, or uncharacteristically decide not to comment. She holds him tight, too tight, and then lets go. Tears shine in her eyes, but they still don’t fall.

“Let’s go,” she says.

“Let’s go,” he agrees. “To victory, my love.”

#galeheart #gale/shadowheart #my fic #this just like slammed into my brain while I was brushing my teeth lol

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crystaiskiess · 2 months ago

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Okay, after catching up on 113.6k words, I am here to ask questions. (Sorry, work on slowly losing my fixation on Merlin caused me to get behind the last four months.) A lot happened in the four chapters I got behind on, and I have a couple questions.

First question is why did you decide to cut The Secret Sharer? I guess I’ve always seen that as a really good magic reveal episode and also just a good episode setting up for future characters in season five. Although, I kind of assumed you’d have the magic reveal in The Sword in the Stone because of how you’ve been building the story. How you did the magic reveal of Merlin having no other choice was realistic, though. If he was put in that situation, that’s what he would’ve done. I just didn’t know if there was a certain reason you decided to cut that episode.

Second question deals with the lamia. First, love that Elyan is aroace. I like that no one is judgmental or tells him he hasn’t found the right person yet. Very nice and refreshing. I was just wondering if the change that everyone attracted to women being affected by the lamia was to reveal he is aroace and Gwen is attracted to women as well. Or did it stem to wanting Elyan and Merlin to have that moment where they finally really talk to each other? (Which they should’ve done in the show. It’s clear they care for each other, but it would’ve been nice to see that kind of conversation in canon.)

Lastly, not a question, but I feel very confident in love confession being the next chapter. It only makes sense because Arthur is like, “well, guess I just need to get married” because he believes Merlin does not feel the same way about him. I have literally nothing to bet on it and could very much be wrong, but I’m still confident in this. Intense slow burn is good for this; however, I want them to be together for the entirety of season five. Like dude, let them have this, please.

Also, I read The Sword in the Stone while at work and kept getting annoyed when my coworkers would come over to ask me questions because I was trying to finish up reading. Apparently AO3 went out during this, but I didn’t know so the chapter length saved me.

Okay, hopefully I don’t disappear for four chapters again. (No promises, though. Blame my job.)

HI !! welcome back !! i hope you enjoyed your catch up reading shfjshdhs !!

in answer to your question regarding secret sharer this was actually one of the most interesting chapter cuts for me - it was actually included in the plan up until the point i got up to it, when i realised that the plot of the episode itself no longer works in oafk because of arthur’s character development- in the show the only reason that episode actually works is because arthur doesn’t trust/believe merlin enough to listen when he says it isn’t gaius to blame and is instead agravaine - but in oafk arthur trusts merlin so completely i couldn’t make that work without it seeming largely out of character for oafk!arthur and merlin/arthur’s relationship - for ,,,, other reasons that i cannot reveal it didn’t really impede anything to cut it altogether so i thought it was better to do that than try to force character decisions that would feel out of place (however i agree it’s a great episode for magic reveals and if you haven’t read it i highly recommend turning the page by queerthedagger it’s amazing)

i’m really glad you enjoyed the magic reveal too 💕

in regards to lamia, aroace elyan is truly one of my favourite details to get to include and i’m so glad it’s gotten such a positive reception - the lamia does actually affect people attracted to women even in the show (the reasoning for why gwen isn’t affected in canon) - it’s meant to be implied that merlin isn’t affected because of his magic, but weirdly gwen never really questions that beyond an initial “huh that’s strange” - i just leaned heavier on the attraction part of her spell so that merlin has a cover for his magic, and subsequently it gave me a great opportunity for him and elyan to talk which i really wanted to happen because i think their dynamic is an extremely fascinating and moving one - aroace elyan and bi gwen has been sprinkled throughout other chapters too but this one was a great way to properly confirm both of those details

and i love your theory regarding the love confession !! i guess we’ll have to wait for the next chapter to see if you’re right or not 💕 alas i must keep my lips sealed

i’m glad the insane length of sword in the stone saved you from the ao3 shutdown HFJSHDHSH

good luck with work and i hope you’re well !!!!!! so lovely to hear from you again !!!

#tj talks #oafk #not-rome

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mrs-monaghan · 1 year ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/mrs-monaghan/724551783636140032/ahm-i-get-what-are-you-saying-but-that-really

I know that there are pple who always insist to take everything at face value. Anon, you honestly cannot expect normal behaviours from situations that are not normal at all. You are talking about Jk not showing up at Jimin’s stage and him refusing to go see Jimin perform even after Jimin asked. So let me ask you and many others who maybe didn’t notice this or find anything weird about it. So we’ve seen a pattern of all the members at some point showing up to support each other by surpring each other maybe during their practice, shooting or perfomance. Somehow there is always the element of suprise and that is exactly what V did with Jk too. So now, did no one find it weird that Jk had to ask or kinda tell Jimin that he wanted to go see him perform on stage? Why did he have to ask for Jimin’s permission b4 going to support him? Hobi didn’t, Suga didn’t, V didn’t none of the members asked for permission b4 to go support the others so why did Jk feel the need to ask Jimin if he could go see him perform? This was a lil weird to me at the time but I didn’t think much of it until after the flirty Live those two did few days ago. Jimin said he was going to go to Jk AFTER his promotions were over and it kinda seemed like JM was making all sorts of excuses not to go to Jk or not to let Jk go to him. I could be rambling idk but it got me thinking about 2 instances in the past. JM was trynna cook and Jk tried coming close but JM sent him away saying Jk made him nervous. Even when JM was recording Serendipity, he asked Jk to leave too cuz he couldn’t concentrate with Jk there. Are you picking up what i am putting down? What if Jk didn’t go see Jimin perform and had to ask Jimin if he could go see him perform cuz he knew that Jimin wouldn’t be want him there probably cuz him being there would make Jimin nervous or distract him somehow? Cuz I can’t think of any logical reason why Jk had to ask Jimin if he could go see him perform when he could have just surprised him like the rest. Also, think about it, Jk is just not an asshole who didn’t care to go support Jimin. Whether u think they are dating or not, Jk is not an asshole and he clearly loves Jimin and Jimin is clearly important to him. So how do u explain him not going to see Jimin perform? Same goes for Jimin. Everyone knows Jimin is one if the most supportive members of BTS. He shows up for EVERYONE! Didn’t anyone find it strange that he didn’t go watch Jk perform too? I have no doubt that he would have showed up if it was anyone else, so why didn’t he show up for Jk? There are patterns being broken here and only when it comes to Jikook. I can’t place my finger on it, but certain things they do just don’t make alot of sense.

What is my point? My point is, I don’t think Jk not going to see JM perform was his choice! And I believe so because he didn’t have to ask for Jimin’s permission b4 going to support him. If he felt the need to ask, that tells me he kinda already knew that for some reason, Jimin might not want him there, and it was also weird that he choose to ask Live where maybe he felt like Jimin wouldn’t be able to say no! We all know damn well that so many jikookers would have stopped shipping Jikook since chapter 2 if we only had to depend on Jimin! Jk has been the only one holding this fort down! Jimin really doesn’t do anything to feed Jikookers. Also, we see how much Jk debunks Taekook all the damn time but he hasn’t in anyway tried to debunk Jikook, if anything he if feeding us fat! So that’s how i kinda know that Jimin is the one probably stopping many things from happening now. I don’t know his reasons but I honestly feel Jk is kinda done with this hiding shit. Anyways i just wanted to share my 2 cents. I haven’t ever seen anybody mentioning this so i just thought i’d see what u guys think about it.

I am with you 1300%

#ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #jungkook #jimin #park jimin #bts #jeon jungguk

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odinsblog · 1 year ago

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Is the Hamas torture video post true? I can't find anything other than an ADL post

I haven’t and I refuse to post or link to any of the videos, so I’m not really sure which “torture video post” you’re talking about, unless you mean this post or maybe this one

At any rate, I have unfortunately seen at least two such videos (mostly because of how Twitter no longer labels graphic content/violence), and it was before I was fully aware of what was actually happening in Gaza. The first video showed young women being dragged and paraded through the streets by Hamas. Some of the women were dead, and the ones who were alive had very clearly been raped and their clothes were all bloody between the legs. The other video I watched showed a family that was taken hostage, and then abruptly they murdered an 18yr old girl in front of her parents and her little sister. I “saw” other videos, but LOL, I’m ex military, but I’ve been shot at, at close range several times before (not while I was in the military), so I tend to be a bit squeamish around real/realistic depictions of death — so I let the video and audio play, but I looked away and had a friend more or less describe what was happening to me, only looking at the screen myself periodically.

Look, I wholeheartedly believe that decolonization always has and always will require violence. Things are absolutely no different with Palestine freeing themselves from Israeli oppression. I get that, okay?

SN: now feels like a particularly good time for this warning: be wary of anyone suddenly stressing “peaceful nonviolent resistance”.

I’m sorry, but rape, torture and intentionally murdering children and disabled people is kinda a bright red line for me. It’s an indelible line that I cannot cross. And I won’t defend it, I won’t excuse it, I won’t ignore it, and I won’t pretend that war crimes like rape are just the cost of doing business.

Let’s do a thought experiment: pick whatever’s most important to you, something (you think) you’re willing to die for - maybe it’s LGBTQ rights, or Black liberation, Climate Change, or whatever. You get the idea. If someone said to you, “Hey, we may be forced to kill some people to achieve our goals and gain our freedom,” maybe you’d be down with that. But if they said that rape would be required, would you still be cool with that? If they told you that killing children and the elderly was a part of the plan, could they still count on your unwavering support?

And to be super clear here: please let’s not pretend that the IDF hasn’t done some of the exact same things to Palestinian civilians that Hamas has done to Israeli civilians. Israel is currently bombing the fuck out of Palestinian hospitals, UN schools in Gaza, and turning off water on children, the sick + disabled, and the elderly. You would have to be the biggest most gullible fool on earth to believe that all of the apartment buildings that the IDF has leveled to the ground in Gaza, had zero innocent people inside them.

So I guess in the end, all I’m saying is, regardless of which side you choose to support, we must always always draw the line at war crimes.

And a friendly reminder: Hamas ≠ Palestine

Another friendly reminder: you can be pro-Palestinian without being antisemitic.

One more friendly reminder: Hamas would not be nearly as strong as it is today if Benjamin Netanyahu hadn’t repeatedly propped them up over the years, to keep the Palestinian people from becoming united.

And one final warning for anyone reading this: Elon Musk has all but eliminated the part of Twitter that used to block misinformation from being posted. Therefore you’re going to see A LOT of rightwing, anti-Palestinian + anti-Ukrainian propaganda. Please don’t fall for it. Check and double check the sources.

And as always, TERFs dni

#anon #ask #answered #politics #palestine #israel #gaza #hamas #israel is an apartheid state

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setaripendragon · 1 year ago

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Cress - Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 I really enjoyed writing this one and playing about with just the entire concept of dreams and the Dreaming and... I love the world building in Sandman so much, okay, and playing in this sandbox is just -happy author flailing- The Princess of the Dreaming comes home.

The Dreaming is in ruins. Ever since the library disappeared, there’s been nothing for Lucienne to do except watch the rest of the Dreaming crumble. She’s tried, as best she can, to hold it together, but she’s only a dream of a memory in the end, even if she has been favoured by their Lord. She hasn’t got the authority to order anyone to stay, and she doesn’t have the power to shape the dreamstuff back into what it was.

It’s an exercise in futility, and though Lucienne has never fallen prey to the fear that their Lord has abandoned them, has always believed that he will return when whatever is keeping him is done, she still finds it all exhausting. Even just existing these days is exhausting. The dreamstuff that makes her up is just as inclined to crumble back into its base state as the dreamstuff everywhere else, and holding herself together has become its own chore these last few years.

“Uh… Loosh?”

Lucienne sighs, and turns away from her consideration of the ruin of her Lord’s castle to face Mervyn with a forced smile. “Yes? What is it?” she asks. Back to business. Someone has to try and keep order while their Lord is away, and it might as well be her.

Mervyn makes a sound like clearing the throat he doesn’t actually have, and looks down. “We’ve got a new dreamer,” he tells her. Lucienne grimaces. Once upon a time, that wasn’t even an event to be remarked upon. These days, it’s an ill omen. How broken must everything be, for a new dreamer in the Dreaming to be a bad thing?

“Well, we may as well do our best to make them comfortable while they’re with us,” Lucienne says briskly. It’s the last kindness any of these dreamers will ever know. As the mortal world has – presumably – grown better at dealing with people who cannot wake, they survive longer, but they still haven’t discovered a way to convince the Dreaming to let them go again. So many dreamers have died in the Dreaming in the last seventy years, and if their Lord were here, perhaps that would grant them a second life here in the Dreaming like it had for Lucienne, but… There is no Dream Lord to claim them, and so they can only go with Death when she comes for them.

“Yeah…” Mervyn sighs. “That’s gonna take some work with this one.”

“Oh?” Lucienne prompts, suddenly wary. “Why is that?”

“Cause it’s a baby, isn’t it?” Mervyn asks, shoving his hands into his pockets with an air of deep discontent.

Lucienne doesn’t blame him one bit. She closes her eyes against the news. They’ve seen their fair share of children, toddlers, and even infants since their Lord left, but it’s never gotten easier to bear. The Dreaming is meant to enhance the lives of the dreamers, not steal their entire span of years away from them.

She caves to a moment of weakness, and takes her glasses off to rub at her eyes. She’s a dreamthing; she shouldn’t get tired. And yet. “Where?” she asks on a heavy sigh.

“The shores,” Mervyn tells her, and so off they go; leaping across the rubble and fragments of the bridge, across the now barren plains where Fiddler’s Green once lay, through the Gates of Horn and Ivory, which blessedly still stand, and out onto the soft shores of the Dreaming. Raw dreamstuff stretches out endlessly, waves of the Sea of Sleep lapping at its edges, and Lucienne finds she doesn’t need a guide any more.

The sight before her punches a soft ‘oh’ right out from the depths of her lungs. She’s not sure if it’s joy or sorrow. There’s no missing their new guest, because she’s wrapped up in a dream. A soft-edged infant’s dream of rainbows, bright primary colours fuzzing into each other, making strange shapes as they drift around their dreamer, tipping the babe from one vibrant cradle to another and sending sparkles of pure joy into the air.

Lucienne hadn’t known any such gentle dreams yet survived.

“Huh. Thought the little ones were all gone by now,” Mervyn says, echoing Lucienne’s thoughts with uncanny accuracy.

“I suppose we missed one,” Lucienne says helplessly.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there just watching, unable to bring herself to interrupt and end this moment. It’s such a small thing – such a small dream, for such a small dreamer – and yet that tiny thing lodges in her chest and grows until it threatens to burst. So she stands and watches as an infant dreams of rainbows, until quite suddenly, the babe is tipped from amorphous blue to bubbling orange, and falls right through the bubbles and into nothing.

Mervyn swears, covering the sound of Lucienne’s gasp.

“She woke up,” Lucienne says dumbly, staring as the dream twists in on itself, condensing down into a little blob of ever-shifting colour. It shifts, sliding around on the dream-sand of the shores, as though it’s looking for its absent playmate.

“Ah, damn. Come here, you,” Mervyn says, striding – more like staggering – forward to catch the attention of the dream. “Better get you somewhere safe, before you dissolve like the rest. What’s your name, then? I don’t recognise you t’all.” He sounds very indignant about that last part, which is fair enough. Mervyn was generally well acquainted with most of their Lord’s creations. Perhaps this one was made right before he left, and it never had the chance to become known to the other denizens of the Dreaming.

The dream fluctuates indecisively for a moment, and then turns a startlingly uniform shade of vibrant yellow. “Aureolin,” Lucienne says, when Mervyn flounders. The dream sparkles. “It’s very good to meet you, too,” Lucienne agrees. “I’m Lucienne, the Royal Librarian, and this is Mervyn Pumpkinhead, the… Royal Caretaker.” Mervyn humphs, but doesn’t contradict her “Now, let’s get you settled somewhere a bit safer, shall we?”

Aereolin agrees, and dutifully follows along behind as Lucienne turns her steps not back towards the Castle, but further into the Dreaming, towards the Houses of Secrets and Mysteries. These days, it’s safer there than it is in the Castle. One never knows when another set of rooms is just going to disappear in there.

Abel is absolutely overjoyed to see another dream, while Cain is significantly more disgruntled about being asked to babysit. Lucienne, having expected this, blandly suggests that if it’s too much for him-

“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s not as if we’ve got anything else to do around here!” Cain snaps, cutting her off before she can even begin to suggest Aureolin comes to the castle with her, and Lucienne smiles smugly.

“Of course. Thank you,” she says indulgently.

“Gregory! Look, Gregory, a new friend for you!” Abel calls to the gargoyle nesting on the roof. Gregory chirrups in confusion, and hops down, scattering roof tiles as he goes, to nose at Aureolin curiously. Aureolin blooms into a riot of colours in the air around Gregory, who yelps and rears back, turning on his hind legs to try and look at everything all at once, only to fall back on his rump when he overbalances.

Aureolin flares around him in a riot of sunshine yellow and neon orange and crystal white. Gregory shakes himself, then wriggles with more intent. Abel has just enough time to shout, “Gregory, no-!” before Gregory pounces. He catches most of Aereolin under one large paw, right up until Aureolin bleeds itself into the ground, turning the grass coquelicot and heliotrope and gamboge.

Then it springs back into the air like a mist rising out of the ground, coalesces into a rainbow, before darting off into the trees, a rippling ribbon of colour against the dreary Dreaming, with Gregory in hot pursuit.

“Where’d you find that one, then?” Cain asks suspiciously.

“On the shores,” Lucienne says blandly.

“What was it doing down there?” Cain demands.

“What we’re all doing these days,” Lucienne says, a little harder now. “Getting by.”

Cain harrumphs, but ceases attempting to interrogate her. Good, because Lucienne does not want to see what frenzy the last few residents of the dreaming might be driven to by the notion of a dreamer who isn’t stuck. They’d swamp the poor child, and probably cause no end of trauma.

She returns to the palace, for want of anything better to do, and catches herself looking mournfully at the once-vibrant stained glass windows of the throne room. They’re dull, these days. Even if there was more than the watery light of their non-weather, the glass is no longer jewel-toned and ready to glow at the touch of the sun. Lucienne hasn’t seen colour like Aureolin’s here in the dreaming for at least the last twenty years.

Somehow, she’s not surprised when Mervyn comes to fetch her again what feels like mere moments later.

“She’s back, Loosh.”

And so she is, when Lucienne goes back down to the shores to see. The child has called Aureolin back to her, and they’re playing on the sand together. And it happens again. And again. Lucienne begins to track time by days instead of years again, keeping an eye out for the infant. Sometimes Aureolin doesn’t come, and Lucienne will pick the child up and carry her back through the gates and into the palace, just because it’s better than leaving her lying on the dream-sand.

Some many days and nights later, Lucienne finds the infant on the shore again, and while Aureolin isn’t there, another dream is. Or, rather, a nightmare. An infant’s nightmare of cold and sharp, with no finesse to its form. To Lucienne, it looks a little like a soap-bubble, covered in pulsing spikes like shards of broken glass, surrounded by a glimmer of diamond-dust.

The infant is being cradled by the spikes, and her tiny little hand keeps closing around one, and then letting go with a whimper, and then trying to close around it again. And the nightmare, for all that it is what it is and it’s fulfilling its purpose in allowing the child to explore these things that scare it in a safe environment, is being so incredibly gentle with her as it holds her aloft, shards tip-tapping over the infant’s skin as it explores in turn.

It is not… typical, of her Lord’s creations, she has to admit. Neither is Aureolin. Even the children’s dreams and nightmares have had forms beyond their function, as far as Lucienne can remember. Human dreams with human shapes, the better to know those they’re meant to serve, and to communicate with the aspect of their Lord in charge of them.

These… are not human.

Perhaps, Lucienne dares to think, this is the Dreaming beginning to heal around their Lord’s absence? After all, their Lord is the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is him. It is not a creation that bears the mark of her Lord’s experienced hand, but… it must be of him, else it could not be. So perhaps they have simply been born of some part of her Lord that is… less than intentional. Impulse over artistry.

It keeps happening, too. The child grows, and as she does, more complex dreams bloom out of the dreamstuff as she needs them. Tesseract joins Aureolin and Dearth, as she discovers shapes, as she grows strong enough to operate her limbs properly and finds the world has substance, and then Schism, as she begins to walk and learns to fear falling, learns to dream of flying.

The first new dream to have a recognisable form is a spider, large enough for a small child to ride, covered in a thick fuzz of glowing white fur, and graced with a pair of magnificent translucent wings coloured like stained glass windows. Its eight eyes are all different sizes, from huge and liquid to small enough to be freckles, all of them black as night, all of them with eyelids far more like a human’s than any kind of insect.

The girl rides it across the dream-sand, sometimes shrieking with glee, sometimes yelling in triumph, and sometimes talking to it. Lucienne exchanges a look with Mervyn when they realise. It’s been a very long time since either of them has been around children. She’d forgotten they start talking that young.

“Should we…?” Mervyn asks. Lucienne looks to the girl, and after a moment of teetering indecision, nods sharply. Mervyn grumbles a wary agreement and, together, they start across the sand.

No matter where she is when she wakes, Lucienne notes, this girl always returns to the Dreaming here, on the shores, where all is raw dreamstuff like shifting sands, nurtured by the shushing shores of sleep. It’s curious, because most dreamers used to slip straight to whatever dream or nightmare called to them that night. But this girl never appears in the Houses of Secrets and Mysteries, nor in the palace rookery where Schism had taken to nesting, nor in the library where Tesseract tends to follow Lucienne around like a faithful hound.

They always come to her, instead.

On spotting them, the girl gasps in delight and immediately makes grabbing motions in their direction. In response, the dream immediately begins to skitter in their direction, wings flapping hard enough to lift it off the sand by a few feet, and then stopping, and then starting to buzz again.

“Pun’kin!” the girl cheers, as the glowing white spider skids to a stop at their feet, kicking up a cloud of shimmering golden dream-sand. “Birb!”

“Hello, little one. Little ones,” Lucienne greets, smiling a little tightly in her confusion.

“Hi! Hi, hi, hi,” the spider returns in a truly beautiful voice, while spinning around in a circle in its excitement.

“Up, pease!” the girl demands, raising her arms. Lucienne sighs, then bends down to pick her up and settle her on her hip. The spider scuttles up her legs, around to her back, and perches there like a backpack, front legs clinging to Lucienne’s shoulders.

Lucienne takes a moment to study the girl. She looks, perhaps, to be from somewhere in the Mediterranean; with warm skin, eyes such a dark brown they look nearly as black as the spider’s, and hair as glossy black as a raven’s wing. Mervyn leans in to study her, too, eyes narrowed. “Did you call me Pumpkin?” he asks.

“Pun’kin,” the girl agrees.

“This is Mervyn,” Lucienne corrects, refusing to laugh only because she knows it would annoy Mervyn. “And I am Lucienne. Who are you?”

“I’m Kess,” the girl says firmly. “Kessida!”

“Cressida?” Lucienne guesses. The girl nods in a full-body bobble. “That’s a lovely, name,” Lucienne tells her. “And who’s your friend?” she adds, turning her head to try and look at the spider still clinging to her back.

“I’m Arthur,” the spider announces sweetly.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Cress, Arthur,” Lucienne says entirely by rote.

“Luffly t’meechu, Looshen, Merfy,” Cressida echoes dutifully.

Mervyn winces. Lucienne doesn’t blame him. That’s a little bit too close to one of their Lord’s names to be anything but painful at the moment. “Maybe stick with ‘Punkin’, kiddo,” Mervyn suggests dryly.

“Kay,” Cressida agrees.

#The Sandman #Lucienne the Librarian #Mervyn Pumpkinhead #The Dreaming #kid fic #next gen OC #dream OC #nightmare OC #is it significant that Cress's first sapient dream #is a spider that can fly?#yes of course #she's the daughter of Eloquence Dreams and Hope #of course her first intentional creation is a Weaver with Wings

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deijiyong · 1 year ago

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Navigation: Next Part | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

2014 October 5th - Changkyun invites himself to your house

You wake up to you bedroom door opening

Being a light sleeper really be like that sometimes

What you weren’t expecting was to see Changkyun sneaking into your room with plastic bags full of snacks and a drink holder with two iced coffees

When he realizes you’re already awake, he dumps both coffees on you while he screams as if HE is supposed to be the one unsuspecting in this situation

You’re covered in coffee, frown frozen in place and Changkyun is begging you not to murder him because he’s trying to hang out with you today

MOM!!!

She’s not here

She just left

Please stop screaming

WHy are yOU hERE?!

Well, you blocked me

And I still want to talk

I figured we could hang out like old times

I even brought Frozen

Jooheon said Jiyeon wouldn’t watch it with you

I’m not watching Frozen with you, Kyun

GET OUT

Please, yn

I’m not asking you to forgive me for the past few years

I just want us to be cool again

I already watched Frozen alone, Kyun

I also brought that movie based on the book series I’ve seen you reading during lunchtime

You just stare at him

Why was he being so adamant about hanging out with you now? You’re seniors for crying out loud!!

You were finally going to get the freedom you have been wanting since he-

If I remember correctly, we never really watched movies together, kyun

Sure they were running in the background

But you were always talking about yourself

Or asking me for advice to help Jooheon with Jiyeon

Which she now knows about, btw, so you’re lucky she hates you right now or she would’ve ended your life months ago

Then just hang out with me

We can eat our way through all these snacks

And we can drink,,, something else

You release a sigh, the stench of coffee was probably embedded in your mattress by now

There was no getting rid of it at this point

You ball up your blanket in your hands and toss it at CK, knocking him to the ground to land on top of one of the bags of snacks

You cannot help the laugh that leaves your mouths when he whines hearing a few of the bags pop open under him; not to mention the ungodly crunching of chips

You inspect the damage of your clothes as you drag yourself off you bed

Then glare down at the coffee spots on your bed

I cannot believe you spilled coffee on me

You owe me a new mattress

I’ll give you mine!

I don’t want that nasty thing

Who knows what you’ve done on that thing

Nothing any hormonal boy hasn’t done

You grab clothes from your closet and move to the bathroom across the hall to shower

CK sits outside the door, body leaning against it

I know I don’t deserve it, yn

But can you please give me another chance

Idk~ you ruined my whole bed

Seems like you were just here to sabotage my living space

Did Sara send you here to ruin my weekend as well?

She, uh, doesn’t know I’m here

I haven’t talked to her since Jooheon’s party

What a shame~ (sarcasm)

I’ll bet she’s just beside herself that her toy doesn’t jump when she tells him to

You’ve gotten mean since I left you (pouts)

Strange how being bullied for the past two years by YOUR gf does that

(throws his head back against the door) why didn’t you tell me how bad she was being to you?

Would you have done anything about it?

I have had more bruises and bodily injuries thanks to her than any football player my age

Would saying I’m sorry help any?

Probably not

I’m sorry

You don’t have to believe me

But I didn’t know she was being so mean towards you

Her friends always defended her whenever Jooheon would try to tell me what she had done

And,,, I believed them

Jooheon has been your best friend for years, Kyun

In all those years, had he ever lied to you about anything?

(sighs) no

I guess it’s my fault then

I should have tried harder to make you realize how bad she was

You shut the shower off, towel drying

I’m surprised Jiyeon didn’t

She always seemed more upset than you ever were

You open the door, ignoring how he just lets himself fall down at your feet while you stare down at him

I think we both know why I was never able to approach you in school

My devilish good looks?

Your crazy ass gf

My problem with crowds and meeting new people

I would rather just avoid you than put myself through more pain

I’m sorry

You wait for him to stand before you take your drenched coffee-smelling clothes to your hamper where your blanket had ended up

Changkyun is hot on your trail, following you down when you take the dirty items down to the laundry room

Do you still have such a bad reaction to going to parties?

You mean: do I still vomit my guts out and back out of every last thing until people get so tired of me that I never see them again?

You can see how his face falls

That had definitely been something that you struggled with over the years

It wasn’t until you met Jiyeon; your rock that things had started to change

You made it to Jooheon’s party

I couldn’t not go

I don’t think you understand how convincing Jiyeon can be

Besides, we share Jooheon and I couldn’t miss his birthday

It’s the one thing I do for him and Jiyeon every year since we became friends

Share Jooheon?

So you never heard the rumors?

Supposedly, everyone is waiting for Jooheon to announce that he’s dating both me and Jiyeon before the end of the year

As if I could possibly get between those two

They’re perfect for each other

I’ve never heard that before

Jooheon has never mentioned it to me

Maybe because it involved me

You push past him to the kitchen to grab some apple juice from the fridge

It’s getting closer to noon and you’re not surprised when CK’s phone starts pinging like crazy

He checks the screen, flips it to mute and then slides it back into his pocket

Wow, good for him (insert eye roll)

I would answer that if you don’t want her to deck you on Monday

Better yet, answer it so she doesn’t kick my ass on Monday

I’ll get back to her later

Does your mom still buy that Shasta pop?

Yeah, knock yourself out

He helps you change the covers on your bed

You both lay on your bed, neither really convinced that movie day is it

Instead, like always, Changkyun catches you up on what’s been going on with him since you last hung out together (minus Sara, obviously)

He was able to get a 3.7 GPA

He’d decided on music as his major

With only minimum backlash from his parents

They knew he was in love with music since he was young

It wasn’t hard to convince them to let him study it

He’d fallen in love with the Mortal Instrument series after seeing you reading it a few months back

Angry that Alec didn’t fall in love with Magnus as fast as he did

“I would have agreed to date Magnus the second I saw him”

He had created an audio portfolio of sorts since the two of you had split

It was what he submitted to the schools when they asked to see what he had been working on

He plays “Fly with Me” that he had written a couple of months after distancing himself from you

It sounds like a piano in the background

He admits that the finished version isn’t as soft as the one he’s played for you; because that version was only meant for you

He got into his first-choice school

Changkyun pulls you to him, dragging you to lay on his chest like you used to back when you were younger

His hand threads through your hair, nerves intensified since you haven’t talked since he started catching you up on him like he used to do

You both haven’t even realized how late it is until your mom comes into the room, a smile on her face when she sees you both like how she would find you years ago and asks if Changkyun is staying for dinner

That’s his cue, it seems when he disentangles himself from you and stands to leave - denying her question

I promised mom I would come back tonight

I’m sure she wouldn’t mind

You’re just across the street

A promise is a promise

Your mom only nods and leaves the doorway

Changkyun turns back to you, lifting his phone

I’ll text you later, okay?

(you roll over away from him) who wants to talk to you

(he climbs back over you) come on, yn, I thought we could be friends again

You were finally talking to me

You’re just a weekend lover, Kyun

By Monday you’ll be back to your same attitude

Letting your gf prance all over me

Just go home

He does as you ask, afraid that you’re right

You don’t look back

But Changkyun does and it hurts him physically

He had to prove you wrong

He would prove you wrong

#monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction #mx fanfic #mx fanfiction #changkyun fanfic #changkyun fanfiction #i.m fanfic #i.m fanfiction #changkyun x reader #i.m x reader #beside u (ck ff)

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d1nnerd0g · 1 year ago

Note

Hey it's that anon again. y'know that one from like a day ago. or a few days ago I don't have a good sense of time. it could be 2030 for all I know

I think my most major like, post-canon take is that I'd probably sorta hate it if I were treating it as a real completely serious canon continuation of Homestuck. Instead I read it more like fanfic than anything, just slightly more Creator Approved than most fics.

Not to say I lack standards of quality for fanfic, but I am more open to certain character alterations and interpretations (there are still more than a handful I don't like in post-canon) because I am more cool with seeing it as someone else's vision of a character rather than them being "utterly ruined" in canon or whatever.

I think it also helps that I read all of Homestuck a couple years after HS^2 paused so I wasn't in the active fandom during all of that (I almost was! I originally tried reading back in 2011 but I fell off of it within 500 pages because I had bad taste) so I didn't actually have my opinion particularly swayed by outside influences and was just more willing to give it a fair reading.

My next most major post-canon take is that, as an epilogues and HS^2 liker, the most recent upd8 is quite literally the best I've actually felt about the writing in ANY post-canon content. I think even if I DISLIKED HS^2, I'd still be interested in seeing where it goes from here, after that.

Hi! I waited til I read all of HS2 to reply so I actually know what I’m talking about. I get you on the benefits of backreading, reading this thing in one go I cannot imagine waiting month-long pauses in between scenes, boy can you really feel them in the text (in a way that wasn’t true in the original comic.)

I don’t find that either the AH-lessness or the divisiveness of the postcanon stuff changes the fact that this is the de facto continuation of the canon storyline - it is the reason any of us are reading it. Them framing the epilogues as an AO3 fic doesn’t make them any less on homestuck.com, rejecting this continuation is an active choice you have to make as a HS reader.

Anyway reading HS2 I was surprised both by how little plot occurred (except in Candy, ironically -- oh my GOD I cannot believe Meat decided to do 3 more years of The Yard/Meteorstuck) and how overall unobjectionable it was? This comic’s just been a lot of really nice art and decently written character banter, and that’s essentially it. Then both took a shocking nosedive in ch15/16, the worst writing I’ve seen in all of HS/postcanon, which was so egregious that I think… if the New Team honestly cares about this project shouldn’t they at the very least go back and revise some of that? At least fix the numerous typos?? Instead we get Terezi offering wry meta commentary that this time she’ll “do it right”, which already communicates a dismissive attitude I’m not impressed by. But hey all we've seen so far is two new conversations, everybody loves Sollux, let’s see if JR can fanfic his way into a compelling story.

…Seriously tho anon, thanks for sharing your thoughts and I absolutely just used your ask as an excuse to bitch some opinions out. It remains true there’s nothing in HS2 that I like that hasn’t already been done or done better in fanworks, except drawing Jane looking extremely bangin I guess, but I haven’t sought that out, as a fan, so it’s like the gift I didn’t even know I wanted, and didn't want

#ask #hs

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saneinthissociety · 1 year ago

Text

If someone reads that, they won’t believe me, but I’ll keep writing. A quarter of a century had to pass for me to realise that I’ve been living a lie. A lie that was installed into me without my consent and without my knowledge. But I bore all the consequences. Going through life and feeling like an alien from another planet, unworthy, inadequate, and never fitting in. And then one day someone else comes and reaffirms this shy voice inside you saying “it’s not you”. And you start believing yourself and are petrified at the thought that you’ve never given yourself the space to look at things from another direction. I am not weird, I am not a fraud, I am the most normal person I know in fact as some of the societal propaganda hasn’t gotten into me.

But then, you look back at your life. You can still feel this bitter taste in your mouth you felt while walking on the streets alone. Angry that you lost the “happiest years of your life”. But you know you have to pick up the pieces and move on and you won’t to. But just let me stay with myself from the past for a little while. I need to respect her, I need to give her the right to be who she was, I need to acknowledge her perspective and her pain. If I don’t do that, the past will keep haunting me as it has been doing for as long as I can remember. The monsters in me don’t seem so scary anymore. It’s because I haven’t even been haunted. But I need to express myself somehow. And it’s hard to do that around people who feel uncomfortable with my self-expression and my existential thoughts.

Everyone thought that I had a perfect family. Respected father, valued mother, we would never fight, never cause a scene in public. Your father is an amazing doctor, gifted preacher, man of honour. I was fed with this bullshit from the day I was born, how could have I not believed in it? It was another fact for me, like the fact that the sky is blue. Well, a shocker is that the sky is in fact not blue, it’s just an illusion. And my “perfect” home was the same kind of illusion. I wasn’t malnourished, I was dressed properly, I was a good student, well-behaved, doing everything by the book, maybe a little shy. I was also emotionally abandoned, unappreciated, unwanted and intimidated. But who would know? I did not want to break down the illusion myself because I was afraid of the consequences. If something was wrong, it was always my fault. If I did something wrong, punishment was inevitable, so much so that I was also punished for things I had not done. I was the most innocent and good-hearted from my peers but I strongly believed I would be the only one ending up in hell, ashamed and suffering.

But living on earth was my hell. And I was going through the centre of it everyday. The inside of my soul felt like a cemetery or desert which has never seen a drop of water. But I used to bite my cheek, clench my teeth and went forward. When I was 25, I have already lost all of my vitality, I was depressed, empty, tired and I had no will to life. At the same time, I could not kill myself, because I was scared of the consequences, I had no energy to plan it and I was afraid I would fail and how would I look anyone else in the eyes if I did fail and they knew I did. As I was already aware that everything could be read from my eyes, they would see that as well, I couldn’t fake anymore. I didn’t have the energy to fake. I lost the energy in the past 8 years, now I am just tired. And never resting. No one understood that I was just chronically tired. So, I stopped explaining. The golden solutions they offered were amusing. That’s something that I was also criticised for, by my father, that I cannot rest. As if he could, fucking hypocrite.

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edenmemes · 2 years ago

Text

house of the dragon starters

ep1 - 10 .

❝ try not to look too relieved. ❞ ❝ did you sleep? how long? ❞ ❝ no king has ever lived that hasn't had to forfeit the lives of a few to protect the many. ❞ ❝ i don’t need mothering. ❞ ❝ it is our fate, i think, to crave always what is given to another. ❞ ❝ you’re safe with me, i swear it. ❞ ❝ to elude a storm, you can either sail into it or around it. but you must never await its coming. ❞ ❝ i have only ever defended you. ❞ ❝ i've always thought of you and i as having been made from the same cloth. ❞ ❝ you will address me as "your grace" or i will have my guard cut out your tongue. ❞ ❝ i’d rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory. ❞ ❝ you’re always like this when you’re worried. disagreeable. ❞ ❝ i like this position. it’s quite comfortable. ❞ ❝ how sweetly the fox speaks when it’s been cornered by hounds. ❞ ❝ we haven’t spoke much...since... ❞ ❝ i do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone. ❞ ❝ i was never much of a dancer. ❞ ❝ do you want me to kill him? ❞ ❝ i’m asking with you to come with me...away from all of this. ❞ ❝ come, eat. fortify yourself for the journey. ❞ ❝ you swore to protect me. ❞ ❝ what will they say of me when the histories are written? ❞ ❝ it’s the only thing i have to my fucking name! ❞ ❝ look what my life became without you. a droll tragedy. ❞ ❝ strive to restore whatever scrap of honor you have left. ❞ ❝ our worth is not given. it must be made. ❞ ❝ it pleases me to hear you say this. that i am not alone in my grief. ❞ ❝ if you mean to elicit some anger from me, you should know that you're failing. ❞ ❝ it bothers you, does it not? ❞ ❝ the realm owes you a great debt. ❞ ❝ all i wanted was for someone to say that they were sorry for what happened to me. ❞ ❝ we must all mourn in our own way. ❞ ❝ do you have a specific course of action to propose? ❞ ❝ we're both people who have had to cut our own way through the world. ❞ ❝ were that to happen, losses would be incalculable. ❞ ❝ it was not my intent to make offense. ❞ ❝ when steel is drawn, a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect. ❞ ❝ i find i have...few friends lately. ❞ ❝ we don’t belong here. ❞ ❝ i only want to help you. ❞ ❝ you cannot believe such gossip. ❞ ❝ just get out. leave me at once. ❞ ❝ to have every young knight and lord fawning over you...what a misery. ❞ ❝ you’ve been much alone these past few years. alone and angry. ❞ ❝ the road ahead is uncertain, but the end is clear. ❞ ❝ you’re young. you will learn. ❞ ❝ this is just what i need...a little adventure. ❞ ❝ care for some company? ❞ ❝ what is this brief mortal life...if not the pursuit of legacy? ❞ ❝ the wise sailor flees the storm as it gathers. ❞ ❝ you are a plague...sent to destroy me. ❞ ❝ for one night, i wish to be free of the burdens of my inheritance. ❞ ❝ do you wish to hear my opinion on the matter? ❞ ❝ i’ve been alone. you abandoned me. ❞ ❝ i’ve decided to remain here and read instead. ❞ ❝ if there were another path...one that led to freedom...would you take it? ❞ ❝ we should be free to speak our minds to one another. ❞ ❝ everything i’ve given you, you’ve thrown back in my face. ❞ ❝ answer me. it’s important. ❞ ❝ do you never long for home? ❞ ❝ i know you’ve never seen true battle. ❞ ❝ your heart is even darker than i thought. ❞ ❝ you think yourself a cunning person. your plans are obvious. ❞ ❝ you never were one to stay idle. ❞ ❝ do not speak of this again. ❞ ❝ they whisper about me in the corridors. ❞ ❝ am i your prisoner? ❞ ❝ have the decency to look grateful. do you know what has been done to give you this day? ❞ ❝ love...is a downfall. ❞ ❝ we’re free to do as we please. ❞ ❝ you will make a fearsome knight. ❞ ❝ just take my arm, at the least. ❞ ❝ it seems the gods have been especially cruel to you. ❞ ❝ i will be a stranger when we meet again. ❞ ❝ you dare put hands on me? ❞ ❝ you look so much like your mother in certain lights. ❞ ❝ i have no shortage of allies. ❞ ❝ who gives a fuck what some lord thinks? ❞ ❝ take your fucking hands off me. ❞ ❝ a certain insolence runs in the family. ❞ ❝ meat without wine is a sin. ❞ ❝ i gave up the idea of wearing a crown generations ago. ❞ ❝ are you...are you hurt? ❞ ❝ reluctance to murder is not a weakness. ❞ ❝ exhausting, isn’t it? hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. ❞ ❝ we have nothing in common. ❞ ❝ you deserve better than what i have been. ❞ ❝ you are an honorable man with a good heart. it’s a rare thing. ❞ ❝ i promise you, in time, you and i together will prevail. ❞ ❝ life has, i know, disappointed you. ❞ ❝ if a king isn’t feared, he is powerless. ❞ ❝ i’d rather ride alone. ❞ ❝ be careful. one could take your words for treason. ❞ ❝ i’ve never seen that side of you...i even doubted its existence. ❞ ❝ i will have the truth of what happened. now. ❞ ❝ do you wish to know your death? ❞ ❝ if we don’t mind our own histories, it will do the same to us. ❞ ❝ i believe you were made to wear the crown. ❞ ❝ we are turning back, all right? ❞ ❝ everyone’s staring at us. ❞ ❝ i would say it’s nice to be home, but i scarcely recognize it. ❞ ❝ most of my years have been spent living in terror. ❞ ❝ all that i have, i owe to you. ❞ ❝ i’ve wondered many an hour what your purpose was in coming here. ❞ ❝ what can either of us know of ruling a kingdom? ❞ ❝ does the promise of war excite you? ❞ ❝ none of this is a game. and yet you treat it like one. ❞ ❝ a matter has arisen that requires your attention. ❞ ❝ night time, you might not be so lucky. ❞ ❝ i have no wish to rule! no taste for duty! i am not suited. ❞ ❝ you flee what other men die seeking. ❞ ❝ i endured it for as long as i could. ❞ ❝ we don’t choose our destiny. it chooses us. ❞ ❝ it is ill luck to look upon the face of death. ❞ ❝ you’ve already found enough trouble today. ❞ ❝ who might you be running from, now? ❞ ❝ i am yours and you are mine. ❞ ❝ i will not have blood shed beneath my roof. ❞ ❝ we are closer to gods than to men. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t do this alone. let us help you. ❞ ❝ that war is not mine to begin. ❞ ❝ it has been so long since we were granted the joy of your presence. ❞ ❝ how could you allow such a thing to happen? ❞ ❝ do not allow your temper to guide your judgement. ❞ ❝ now they see you as you are. ❞ ❝ do you want to know the truth of it? i was frightened. ❞ ❝ you desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. ❞ ❝ you are wiser than i believed you to be. ❞ ❝ i speak the truth. and you know it. ❞ ❝ hope is the fool’s ally. ❞ ❝ while i like your support, i do not need it. ❞ ❝ go to your chambers. you have said enough. ❞ ❝ i thought i wanted it, but the burden is a heavy one. ❞ ❝ i understand you’ve found yourself in some trouble. ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters

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ladyfogg · 2 years ago

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Impulse - Part 1

Impulse – Part 1

Fic Summary: Tired of doing what everyone expects, Eddie convinces you to ditch school and do something impulsive for once. However, your impulse isn’t what he’s anticipating. Impulse Masterpost. Eddie Munson Oneshots Masterpost.

Fic Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Virgin Female Reader (Reader is 18)

Warnings: Language, Drug Use (mentions of smoking pot), Talk of Strict/Overbearing Parents, Friends with Benefits Adjacent, Canon Divergent, Oral (Male Receiving)

A/N: New surprise series drop! Have no clue how many parts this will be but I know I want them to be mostly short smutty fics that can be read as oneshots. Enjoy!

School is bullshit, particularly high school.

On the cusp of graduation, you’ve slowly begun to realize how fucked up the system truly is. Your entire childhood you’re talked down to, told what to believe and what to think. And then when you turn eighteen you’re suddenly supposed to act like an adult? For fuck’s sake, two weeks ago you had to fucking ask for a pass to go to the bathroom and now that you’re graduating, you’re expected to know already what you want to do with your life? You’re expected to go to college, get a boring office job, crank out two kids, and then force them to go through what you went through?

Bull. Shit. All of it.

You sit in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class, desk empty and mind somewhere else. Your grades have been slipping, something your mother constantly reminds you. Caring isn’t even in your vocabulary anymore. Besides, you’ve done just enough to scrape by so you don’t fail. Because failing meant repeating this shit all over again.

Speaking of repeating, two desks away, Eddie’s desk is also empty. He’s leaning back in his seat, looking as bored as you feel. You haven’t talked to him much, only a few convos here and there. But today when your eyes find him, he's already staring at you.

‘Kill me’ you mouth before slumping forward on the desk. Eddie smirks.

Just then, O’Donnell calls on you. You’re not even sure what the fucking question is so when she says your name, followed by, “Can you tell me what year that was?” you have no clue what she’s talking about.

“Pass.”

Everyone in the class turns their heads to look at you. The teacher’s eyes narrow. “You can’t pass when I ask you a question,” she says in a stern tone.

“Funny because I just did.”

You’ve never talked back to a teacher and you’re starting to wonder why because it feels really good to see the shock on her face. Your classmates erupt into murmurs. You chance a look at Eddie whose eyebrows disappear under his bangs.

“Excuse me?” O’Donnell says.

“Do you need me to say it again?”

The teacher’s face turns bright red in anger. “Principal’s office, now!” she orders, pointing to the door.

You don’t get up. “Yeah, I’m gonna pass on that too.”

A hush falls across the room. Everyone is either looking at you or looking at O’Donnell. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Eddie hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

“If you cannot be respectful in my class than maybe you shouldn’t be here,” O’Donnell says, crossing her arms. There’s a smirk playing on her lips, as if you thinks she’s caught you in some kind of trap.

Joke’s on her.

With a shrug, you grab your backpack and stand. “Works for me.” Without batting an eye, you leave.

There’s a rush of adrenaline unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s just after lunch and there are still several hours of school left, but fuck it. You’d rather spend the time walking home than sitting at one of those tiny desks for another minute.

You’re on your way to the side entrance, knowing you can duck out that way without being seen, when you hear your name called.

To your surprise, Eddie is jogging to catch up to you. Class isn’t even close to done which means he must have walked out as well.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“That was fucking amazing!” he says with a grin. He doesn’t have a backpack, only a small metal lunchbox.

“Thanks. Not looking forward to her calling my parents but I couldn’t stand being in there another second.”

“Fucking same. Where are you going now?”

You shrug. “Home to wait for the inevitable.”

“I have a better idea,” he says, slinging his arm around your shoulders and leading you towards the exit. “Come with me.”

You hesitate. Not because you don’t like Eddie. Sure he’s loud and boisterous but he’s never been anything other than chill with you. The truth is this rebelling thing is all new to you and you’re starting to feel a twinge of anxiety over what you did.

As if sensing your hesitation, Eddie throws you a grin. “It’ll be worth it, promise,” he assures you. “Come on, you’re already leaving school. Might as well have some fun.”

Being this close to Eddie is new. The weight of his arm feels good and the heat radiating from his body makes your stomach flutter. This is the first time you’ve ever been touched by someone who isn’t family. He smells like weed and cheap cologne, neither of which bothers you in the slightest. Up close, you never realized how beautiful his eyes are, almost honey-colored in the shitty school lights. There’s something about him that puts you at ease and you grin back.

“Alright, Munson. Show me what you got.”

Eddie’s arm slips away as he steps forward to push the door open for you. “That’s the spirit!”

Walking across the parking lot in broad daylight with Eddie “the Freak” Munson feels weird. And so fucking exciting. You have no idea what he has in store but you’re curious to find out. He leads you to the edge of one of the fields where the scenery changes into woods.

“What you said to O’Donnell was fucking epic,” he says as you two move through the trees. “I’ve never seen her face turn that shade of red before. And believe me, I’ve made her angry plenty of times in the last two years.”

“I fucking hate when teachers call on you even though they know you don’t have the answer. They’re just trying to embarrass us and I’m so fucking done with it. With all of high school.”

“Preaching to the fucking choir. So what are your plans for after?”

You sigh heavily. “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Everyone wants to know, as if I have any fucking clue. I’m eighteen. I shouldn’t have to decide right this second what I want to do with my entire life.”

“Seriously. It’s absolute bullshit.”

“Right? How are we the only ones who see that?”

“Forced conformity. They think it’s ‘normal’.”

“There’s no such thing as normal.”

The two of you arrive at a picnic table and Eddie gestures to it with a sweep of his hand. “Please, step into my office.”

Amused, you take a seat on the table itself, throwing your bag onto the ground. Eddie shrugs out of his leather jacket before joining you. He’s still clutching the lunchbox and now that you’re sitting there with him, you realize you’ve never seen him without it.

“See, I don’t usually operate this way, but I figure it’s a special occasion,” he says, flipping the lid.

For the first time you actually get to see what’s inside and, you have to admit, you don’t know what you were expecting. The assortment of drugs is a mild surprise. Of course there have been rumors that if you need a fix of something Eddie can hook you up. However, you don’t tend to pay attention to rumors. Seems like these were true.

Eddie digs around before he pulls out a bag with a pre-rolled joint. “This one’s on the house,” he tells you. “For making O’Donnell madder than I ever could.”

“You honor me.”

Still grinning, Eddie takes the joint out of the bag and pulls a lighter from his pocket. He puts the end in his mouth and you watch as he lights it, your gaze drawn to his hands.

Damn, how have you never noticed those hands before? Long slender fingers, dexterous from playing guitar. It makes you wonder what else he can do with them. Being this close, his hands aren’t the only things you’re noticing.

Eddie is gorgeous.

The thought strikes you out of nowhere and you realize it’s because while you’ve seen him before, you’ve never really seen him.

He takes a drag, holding it in for a second as he passes you the joint before slowly exhaling. You’re not as smooth as he is. This is the first time you’ve ever even seen a joint. Not that you haven’t been curious, it’s just the first time the opportunity has presented itself. You follow his lead except you’re almost immediately sent into a coughing fit.

Eddie chuckles as he takes the joint back. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you cough. “Just destroyed my cool image in a few seconds is all.”

Eddie laughs. “Nah, I still think you’re cool.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you pass the joint back and forth until it’s finished. Eddie puts the stub out on the picnic table as he leans back on his hands.

“All bullshit aside, what do you want to do?” he asks. “If you could pick whatever.”

You copy his stance because it brings you closer to him, your shoulder practically touching his. “Truthfully? I honestly don’t know. I’ve never had a chance to actually sit and think about it. My parents are always so fucking focused on my grades and I was too. All I was allowed to do was study. They wouldn’t even let me spend time with my friends. Recently, I don’t know, I just got fucking fed up with everything and I realized, grades don’t fucking matter. Not in the grand scheme of things.”

Eddie nods in understanding. “Sounds like your parents are assholes.”

“Oh for sure. They’re going to be pissed later. I’m sure I’m going to be grounded. As if they fucking let me out of the house anyway.”

“Wait, so like, you can’t even go to the movies or hang out at a friend’s house?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“What about dating?”

“What about it?”

“Have you ever been on a date?”

If anyone else asked you, you’d get embarrassed or defensive. But with Eddie, you don’t. Of course, that could also be because you’re stoned.

“No. Not that anyone has asked. Even if they did, I wouldn’t be able to go.”

Eddie slides off the table and moves to stand in front of you. “Unacceptable,” he says. “I refuse to believe no one has ever asked you out. You’re a total hottie.”

His compliment takes you by surprise and you can feel the heat rising in your face. “Shut up,” you say, playfully kicking at him. “You can stop trying to make me feel better. I’ve come to terms with it.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Eddie says. He places a hand over his heart. “And because I’m such a good person, I will be more than happy to take you out on your first date.”

Going on a date with Eddie Munson? Going on your first ever date with Eddie Munson?

Fuck.

That sounds like the best idea you’ve heard in a long time. “I’m flattered but need I remind you of the strict parents who won’t let me out of their sight?”

Eddie shrugs, shoving his hands in his back pockets. “Easy,” he says. “Sneak out and I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh, really, that’s all?”

Eddie’s grin returns. “If you can essentially tell O’Donnell to fuck off, I’m sure you can find a way to sneak out of your house.”

You ponder what he says. Your house is only one story. You very easily can climb out your window if you wanted to. You’ve never had the urge before because you were too scared of what your parents would do. Plus, any friends are kept at arm’s length due to the fact you can’t see them outside of school. It became easier to be alone.

But, seriously, what was the worst they could do? You’re eighteen. You’re already going to graduate. Not to mention they won’t expect it.

Eddie’s grin widens the longer you’re silent. “You’ve figured out a way, haven’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Eddie puts his foot on the wooden bench, leaning towards you in excitement. “So it that a yes?”

“Depends on if you’re legitimately asking me out.”

“Thought I made it clear that I was.”

The flutters in your stomach are stronger now, especially with him this close. Your body aches to reach out and touch him, to slide your hand into his messy hair and yank him into a kiss.

Your first kiss.

“Then, if you’re serious, my answer is yes.”

Eddie’s grin softens and he bites his bottom lip. “Tomorrow night? Pick you up at eight?”

“Make it nine. They’ll be in bed by then.”

“It’s a date.” He stays there, eyes drinking you in as if he’s trying to memorize the lines of your face. “I take it no dating also means…”

“Yes, I’m a virgin. In every sense of the word.”

“Well, we’re just going to have to change that.” Eddie’s eyes go wide for a second and his cool mask drops as he draws back. “Only if you want to, that is. Shit, that came out creepier than I intended.”

You laugh, mostly because you have to in order to ease the fluttering that’s taken residence in your stomach. “Don’t worry, I thought it sounded hot.”

Eddie gives you that boyish grin. “Hot you say?”

You push yourself up to sit, bringing your face close to his. “Super hot.”

Eddie bites his lip again, his eyes hooded as he looks you up and down. “You let me know when and what you’re ready for and I’ll be more than happy to assist.”

Your mind races. There’s so much you want to do, to experience. But, more importantly, so much you want to do with Eddie.

The impulsiveness that took hold earlier is back and you’re just excited enough, and just high enough, to follow through. You suddenly get to your feet, forcing Eddie to take a step back so you don’t collide. Without giving yourself a chance to second guess what you’re doing, you reach for his belt.

Eddie’s eyes go comically wide and he sucks in a deep breath as you undo the buckle.

“Wow, you’re just jumping right in, aren’t you?” he asks, lays his hands on your arms. It’s not to stop you, but to caress.

The touch sends a shudder through your body and your heart rate spikes.

“Unless you don’t want me to,” you say, pausing to give him a chance to refuse.

“I don’t know what you’re planning but whatever it is, I’m here for it.”

That’s all the permission you need. You deftly undo his belt and shove his pants down. Eddie leans in, like he’s about to kiss you but you have another idea. You grab his waist and turn so his back is to the table. He’s commando underneath and it thrills you. You put a hand on his chest and push him down onto the bench.

Eddie’s eyes are wide and his lips part as his breathing picks up. You can see his pupils dilate right before your eyes and the fact that he, Eddie Munson, is turned on, wants you, makes you feel desirable for the first time in your life.

You drop to your knees.

“I think I’m going to blow you now,” you say in a surprisingly casual tone.

His mouth moves but no sound comes out at first. It’s like you can see the wheels turning in his head though you would give anything to hear what he must be thinking. Eventually, when he does speak, he says, “Fuck, yes, please.”

The ‘please’ gets you. There’s a hint of a whine to his voice, a neediness that surprises you. It’s empowering.

You finally look down and see a cock for the first time. HIS cock for the first time. A long, thick shaft nestled above dark curls. Even without touching him you’ve made him hard. When you wrap your hand around him, it twitches against your palm, and you realize in that moment that he’s only half-hard. With zero frame of reference, you have nothing or no one to compare him to. All you know is that the sight is fucking thrilling and makes your pussy throb.

You stick out your tongue and lick a stripe up the underside of him, immediately drawing a moan out of Eddie.

So you do it again, this time looking up at him while you do. His elbows are leaning on the tabletop and his gaze is not leaving your face for a second. Already a flush has started to spread across his cheeks.

Out of your element, but determined to make him feel good, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and gently suck.

Eddie inhales sharply. His tongue darts out to wet his dry lips and his hands clench into fists, like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you. You suck again, harder this time and are rewarded by a drop of something wet and salty, falling onto your tongue.

“Shit, that feels good.” The low gravelly nature of his voice hits you harder than you expect. You feel another stab of desire and it urges you to do more.

Carefully, you relax your jaw and slowly start to slide the rest of him into your mouth. You only get a little ways before coming back up again. Sucking at the tip, you flick him with your tongue and then repeat the process.

Eddie’s chest starts to rapidly rise and fall, straining against his Hellfire shirt. You wonder what he’d look like without it, how he’d look fully naked, spread out and waiting for you.

Another time.

With each move downward, you’re able to take a little more of him each time, until you take all you can. Even then, it’s not all of him. You wrap your hand around the rest and this time when you pull up, you follow the movement with a firm stroke.

Eddie’s hips jerk off the bench and you gag for a second. Instinctively, you swallow around him, proud when you feel him slide even further down your throat.

“Fuck!” he swears, throwing his head back with the most erotic moan you’ve ever heard.

It makes your body hot with want and you’re eager to make him make that sound again. Your pace is slow at first, however, once you get used to the motion and the heady taste of him, you’re able to move quicker, smoother.

Eddie’s hips are rocking along with your movements. He’s panting now and when you glance up, you’re greeted by the beautiful vision of red cheeks and big brown eyes watching you. The hunger and desire you see reflected back is intoxicating.

You’re doing this to him. You’re making him feel this way.

Fuck, what else can you make him feel?

Pulling off his cock to catch your breath, you keep stroking him, your saliva and his precum acting as lube. You open your mouth and sloppily run your tongue up and down his shaft a couple of times. Then, you duck your head and take one of his balls into your mouth.

Eddie’s hands immediately fly to your head and he gasps. “Jesus Christ! Fuck, sweetheart, that mouth!”

His cock feels impossibly hard. Your hand is cramping but you’re determined to keep jerking him off. At least until you suck on his other ball for a second, trying to taste every inch of him that you can.

By the time you get back to sucking his cock, he’s a babbling, mess. His hands direct your movements as his hips roll along, making him fuck your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum like this. Shit, I’ve never cum this fast before. Fuck fuck fuck!”

You’re spurred on by the admissions and suck harder, closing your eyes and surrendering. Your head moves up and down on his lap. You’re making a mess, spit dripping down his cock and balls as you’re given little time to swallow. Eddie is outright fucking you mouth and it’s so fucking sexy that your panties are drenched.

You can’t take it anymore and use one hand to open your jeans, slipping your hand between your legs. Your body sags with relief, hips grinding forward.

“Are-Are you touching yourself?” Eddie gasps. “SHIT! You are! Oh, fuck!”

For a split second, his cock grows impossibility hard and he pushes your head down as far as it can go, moaning when you constrict around him. The next second, he’s shooting his load into the back of your throat and you have no choice but to swallow it all.

You’re pussy is aching and while Eddie cums, you furiously rub your clit, moaning with relief. Eddie’s cock spasms at the vibration and you feel more cum a second later. It's enough to send you over the edge and you cum hard, your pussy clenching around nothing but wanting it to be Eddie. Fuck, you never know it could be this way. How could a simple blow job get you off harder than any of your wildest fantasies?

Because this isn’t a fantasy. This is real. This is Eddie.

Once the pleasure recedes, you let him slip from your mouth, gasping for breath. You desperately want to keeping rubbing yourself but you’re so god damn sensitive it hurts.

Suddenly, Eddie grabs your upper arms and yanks you up and onto his lap. He grabs your wrist, yanking it out of your pants. And, while making eye contact, he slides your wet fingers into his mouth. It’s your turn to gasp, imaging those lips somewhere else. Brown eyes never leave yours as he sucks you slick away, his tongue wrapping around both digits.

The noise he makes. It’s like he’s just sampled a delicious treat that he desperately wants more of.

A few seconds later, he lets them go with a wet pop. Reaching up, his thumb gathers a bead of cum that escaped down your chin, smearing it across your bottom lip until you lewdly suck it away.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, breathless with awe in his voice. “You say your parents are strict. Wouldn’t I be astounding in that equation?”

“The evil guitar playing drug dealer looking to corrupt their daughter?” you tease with a grin. “Absolutely.”

Eddie grins, relaxing back while sliding his hands under your shirt, palms dragging across bare skin. “Can’t corrupt someone who isn’t innocent.”

You reach down to wrap your hand around him again. He jerks up with a hiss, his cock red and clearly as sensitive as you are, yet he still twitches with interest. “Or maybe I’m the one who will corrupt you, Eddie.”

“I can’t wait to see you try.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #joe quinn #joseph quinn #stranger things fanfiction

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grewlikefancyflowers · 4 years ago

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JC’s deeply rooted resentment of WWX, JFM’s parenting, and the inevitability of the falling out of the ‘Yunmeng bros’.

In discussion of the breakdown of JC and WWX’s relationship, their falling out is often regarded as a mutual failing on both sides to properly communicate and maintain their relationship. I’m making the case here that their falling out was a foregone conclusion from the start, and in no part due to the actions of Wei Wuxian.

This is because YZY has instilled in JC the idea that JFM dislikes him, something he believes before WWX arrives in Lotus Pier, JC already feels inferior, thus as soon as potential competition for JFM’s attention comes along in the form of WWX, JC resents him, believes JFM prefers him, and looks for reasons to justify this.

Summarising their very first interactions - from chapter 71 - WWX arrives at LP, sees JC with his puppies and is so terrified that he refuses to come down from JFM’s arms the entire day. The second day, JFM gives JC’s puppies away.

Now, I would like to think that no one seriously believes that this is an act of favouritism, but I have seen this case being made so I just want to make clear that WWX is obviously traumatised by his previous interactions with dogs. After trying for a whole day to comfort WWX, with no success, JFM does not exactly have any other choice than to give the puppies away, WWX cannot be expected to live in constant terror in the place that is supposed to be his home.

Consequently, ‘This angered Jiang Cheng so much that he threw a big tantrum. No matter how much Jiang FengMian comforted him gently, telling him that they should ‘be good friends’, he refused to talk to Wei WuXian.’

JC’s reaction is fairly understandable for an 8 year old. JFM comforts JC, and does not treat him callously or dismiss him, however it takes several days until JC will even talk to WWX.

When JC does start to warm up to him, JFM thinks it’d be a good idea for them to have a sleepover, JC is on the ‘verge of agreeing’ to this, which JFM is overjoyed by - so much so that he picks WWX up.

This is not an example of favouritism, JFM doesn't repeatedly give affection to WWX and not JC, he holds him twice - the first instance being purely because WWX was too terrified to leave his arms, the second being this one. These are the only two times where JFM is described as being affectionate towards WWX, JC is still in the lead on this count. But JC interprets this as JFM preferring WWX.

This results in the JC shutting WWX out at night.

At that time, Wei WuXian didn’t know what Jiang Cheng was mad about at all. After a pause, he replied, “I didn’t steal anything. It’s Uncle Jiang who told me to sleep with you.”

Hearing that he was still bringing up his father, almost as if he was purposely showing off, Jiang Cheng’s eyes reddened as he yelled, “Go away! If I see you again, I’ll call a bunch of dogs to bite you!”

This is the important part - JC sees WWX in the worst possible light, and rarely thinks of WWX as a person outside of how he directly impacts JC - he concludes that WWX is purposefully antagonising him, this is a trend that continues well into adulthood.

Then, when WWX flees LP after JC threatens him with dogs, JYL tells JC to find people to help search for him. However,

‘If any other disciple or servant learned about this and told Jiang FengMian, after Jiang FengMian knew how he threw Wei WuXian’s sheets out and made him hurt his leg, Jiang FengMian would definitely dislike him even more. This was also why he only dared chase after them alone and didn’t get anyone else.’

JC has obviously behaved wrongly here, and JFM would be right to scold him for it, but JC interprets this as JFM disliking him. We haven’t seen anything to suggest that JFM actually dislikes JC, he always treats him quite gently, actually. But JC is already at the conclusion that JFM dislikes him, and twists events to suit this - if his dad scolds him for misbehaving, it’s because he dislikes him. This pattern repeats after the Xuanwu Cave arc too.

This is because Madam Yu has ingrained into him the idea that JFM dislikes him, because he’s her son. This has nothing to do with WWX - because both her and JC already believe that JFM dislikes JC prior to WWX’s arrival - she only sees him as additional fuel to use.

The only other person who mentions JFM supposedly treating WWX better than JC is JZX. I’m sure it's a coincidence that he’s the son of YZY’s best friend.

‘“Doesn’t he treat you better than treating his own child or something?”’

Note the ‘or something’, - JZX doesn’t seem to know this with certainty - he’s repeating what others have said, despite having visited Lotus Pier several times (as stated in ch.69), JZX hasn’t seen evidence for himself that JFM prefers WWX.

‘“Maybe I should’ve let you hit him, while I stand aside and watch. This way, Uncle Jiang might not need to come. Oh well, I really couldn’t hold back!”’

We know that WWX doesn’t see JFM as favouring him - so what does he mean by this? Well, LQR has had it out for WWX from the moment they met, and has already sent a letter to JFM complaining of his behaviour - at this point WWX doesn’t know that this results in them breaking the JZX/JYL engagement either, so he’s probably purely thinking that LQR summoned JFM to CR to discuss WWX’s repeated offenses. JC hasn’t done anything to invoke LQR’s ire (or rather, he’s gotten away with everything he has done), so WWX thinks that if JC fought JZX, it would not have been treated so seriously, compared to WWX, who has repeatedly misbehaved.

Contrary to fanon interpretation, WWX is not oblivious to other people’s feelings, he’s very empathetic, and additionally understands JC very well. He doesn’t see how JC is feeling here, because JC’s feelings are just so illogical...

‘Although it was only Wei WuXian’s casual words, he held mixed feelings, because he knew that this wasn’t a lie.

Jiang FengMian had never hurried to another sect in one day for anything related to him, no matter if the issue was good or bad, large or small.

Never.’

Once again, JC’s at the conclusion that JFM dislikes him, he twists events to support this. He’s looking at this scenario very strangely - JFM didn’t rush to CR because he likes WWX, he was called there by LQR, to discuss JYL’s engagement with JZX. Secondly, we’re never given any examples of scenarios where JC does anything to warrant JFM rushing over. As far as we know, they never even stay with other sects. Knowing JC’s personality, his dislike of doing anything to rock the boat, it’s extremely unlikely that he’s ever done anything to warrant JFM rushing over like this. Moreover, it’s a bizarre thing to be jealous of, WWX is in trouble, he’s not on the receiving end of positive attention from JFM.

JC’s flawed reasoning is once again illustrated after the Xuanwu Cave arc...

‘Jiang Cheng’s expression was complicated after he had finished listening.’

This is Jiang Cheng’s reaction after WWX credits LWJ with killing the tortoise of slaughter - this is before JFM congratulates him. Before JFM says anything, JC is purely resentful about WWX having done something heroic, more so, resentful that WWX is willingly to let LWJ take most of the credit - he’s annoyed about this, most likely feeling that WWX is rubbing in his face that he doesn’t need the recognition that JC so desperately craves.

‘Jiang FengMian nodded and said, “You did well.”

Killing a giant 400-year-old beast at only 17 was way beyond what one would call ‘doing well.’’

JFM knows about JC’s… issues, he knows how he’ll react to WWX’s receiving recognition, he likely purposefully downplays his praise to avoid upsetting him. (Who’s really being favouritised? Lol)

But, even to this, JC reacts badly, he lashes out at WWX, once more interpreting him in the worst possible way.

‘Jiang Cheng hissed, “Too fucking bad, then. You shouldn’t have been so damn stubborn and you shouldn’t have cared so damn much about such a trivial thing. If you’d never moved in the first place –”’

JC’s response is to basically tell him the entire incident was his fault. Which is objectively not true - WWX only gets involved in the conflict after it has already started, and then he acts deliberately to try to end it, rather than impulsively fighting. He also starts to say that WWX should have left their allies - LWJ and JZX - to die. This is where JFM cuts him off, and tells him it’s not appropriate to say such things - he’s not scolding him harshly, JC is not being unfairly treated here, he’s done wrong, and JFM is trying to teach him why, you know, parenting. But JC, and YZY, take this to mean JFM dislikes JC.

JFM tries to teach JC about the Jiang sect’s motto once more - this is of course, not just about the motto, but about the values that JFM wants to instill in him, as a parent.

This is where Madam Yu arrives.

“Yes, he doesn’t understand, but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands?!”

Of course, what she says is nonsensical, it does matter to JFM that JC understands the motto, that’s why he’s trying to teach him. If he did not care, he would have given in already.

This is further supported...

‘Jiang Cheng’s appearance and temperament all resembled his mother’s. Jiang FengMian guided him from childhood, but no matter how much he tried, he still couldn’t change his son’s nature. As such, it always seemed like he disliked his son.’

JFM has never been dismissive of JC just because he’s YZY’s son, he’s always tried to teach him, but JC always had his mother’s nature - YZY’s nature being harsh, standoffish, foul tempered, with no care for others - Note that is says it ‘seems’ like he dislikes his son, solely because he’s trying to teach him to be a better person. He has good reason for doing so - as a kid, JC never had friends, he doesn’t seem to as an adult either, he only has Jin Ling, whom he pushes away with his foul temper. JFM was just trying to raise JC to being an even-tempered person, capable of functioning in society, which is kind of what parents are supposed to do. But once more, this is taken as dislike.

Note that during JC’s outburst, every single thing JC claims about what JFM thinks of him, he’s parroting what YZY has said, none of these points have any actual evidence.

The next point to consider is how JC blames WWX for the fall of LP, despite it objectively not being his fault - JC knows this too.

‘In his heart, Jiang Cheng knew clearly that back in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter at Dusk-Creek Mountain, even if Wei WuXian hadn’t saved Lan WangJi, the Wen Sect would have found some reason to come over sooner or later’

Even if WWX’s actions did prompt the Wens to act sooner than they otherwise might have - coming sooner or later would have made no difference at all because YZY outright stated she had no intention of preparing for an attack, even after WWX suggests they should, and JFM was still going to the Wens asking for their swords back - they were still uselessly trying to suck up to the Wens, thinking it would save them.

Despite knowing deep down that WWX was not to blame - he still uses it to fuel his resentment of WWX, because the resentment was there from the beginning, the only uncertainty is the means he uses to justify it.

During the ancestral hall confrontation - he uses this excuse again.

‘Jiang Cheng responded contemptuously, “You really are forgetful. What’s called a shameful person? Let me remind you. Just because you decided to be a hero and save this Second Young Master Lan, the entire Lotus Pier including my father and mother was buried. If this wasn’t enough, after the first time, you still want a second time, even wanting to save Wen-dogs and implicating my sister and her husband, how noble of you. Even nobler, you are so magnanimous to bring these two to Lotus Pier. Allowing the Wen-dog to stand at the front of my gates and letting Second Young Master Lan offer joss sticks, purely trying to antagonize me.’

Obviously, WWX did none of these things to antagonise JC, in fact he was going through a complex emotional journey of realising that he has feelings for LWJ, and that LWJ probably has feelings for him too, he doesn’t go to the ancestral shrine to mess around - he’s ‘introducing’ LWJ to JFM, YZY, and JYL, because he’s thinking about marrying him.

The problem is, JC never really sees WWX as a person, WWX has always been more of a concept - someone to compare himself to, the reason his father doesn’t like him, the reason his mother uses to berate him. It doesn’t occur to JC that WWX is a person outside of what he is to JC, and he is therefore incapable of empathising with what WWX might be feeling right now, instead the only possible conclusion is that he’s antagonising JC.

He follows the same line of thinking when WWX defects with the Wens. JC knows what he and WWX owe them, in fact JC owes them, far, far more than what WWX does - it was his parents whose bodies Wen Ning retrieved, and it was him who WN had to rescue from LP. But JC thinks, he can get away with not paying this debt, so why should he? JC is selfish, he doesn’t understand why WWX would want to help others when he doesn’t have to, so JC concludes, this is WWX showing off, ‘playing the hero’.

Because from the moment they met, JC has never tried to know WWX for who he is, whatever WWX does, JC interprets in a negative light - when WWX tries to get LWJ’s attention, (despite it being painstakingly obvious that WWX has a crush on him) JC concludes that WWX is messing around foolishly, without reason (parroting the untrue things YZY says about WWX always seeking trouble). When WWX wants to help people, he’s playing the hero, one upping JC. JC only ever thinks of WWX in relation to himself - when WWX disappears for three months, JC’s immediate complaint is that WWX kept him waiting, that he’s put JC out by making him search for him. You could argue that JC was just worried about WWX, and not able to express it - and on some level that’s true. But there’s a very intentional contrast between how LWJ and JC react to WWX’s return - LWJ is worried about WWX, about how his cultivation method is affecting him, moreover, WWX is very clearly not himself. JC, however, does not care for that - he only sees WWX, and modao, as a tool for killing Wens.

It takes almost nothing for JGS to manipulate JC into turning against WWX in ch.73 - he readily believes every negative thing JGS says about WWX, despite being called out directly for lying by LWJ. JGS talks as if he is a servant who has forgotten his place, unlike JYL, JC does not defend him. He refuses to speak up for him - he claims that no one will - yet LWJ and MianMian did. JC didn’t turn on WWX because it was impossible for him to speak up - he was living proof that WQ and WN did not support the Wen sect in the war, he drops him the moment he can because he’s resented him from the beginning.

Another interesting tidbit about JC just fundamentally not understanding who WWX is as a person, is that he only blames LWJ for the Xuanwu Cave incident - not JZX, despite him behaving no differently to how LWJ does. This is probably because he realises WWX’s fixation on LWJ, and supposes that this is the reason that WWX got involved in the conflict. But of course, WWX would have done something whether it was solely JZX, or just a random person.

Taking all this into account, it seems almost inevitable that WWX and JC would fall out eventually, because JC was, from the start, looking for reasons to dislike WWX, he turns against him at the first opportunity he got. For the ‘Yunmeng bros’ to have a healthy relationship, JC would simply have to fix his entire personality.

JC is unable to see WWX as a person, right up until the very end of the novel - when he recalls how he impulsively put himself at risk in order to save WWX. Finally, for the first time, JC is able to understand why WWX stood up for others in Xuanwu Cave, why he helped the Wens, because JC did the same thing, put himself on the line for WWX, probably the only time JC has ever acted so selflessly. And this is why he lets him go, he lets go of the things he blamed WWX for. For the first time, he is able to empathise with WWX, he understands that WWX was never ‘playing the hero’, seeking praise or recognition, he understands that WWX helps people purely because he feels in the moment that it’s the right thing to do. This is what enables him to finally let go of WWX.

I’m always a bit baffled when people claim mxtx never gave JC a happy ending, because this is his happy ending - him being able to realise that WWX never wronged him - when he finally lets go of this, he can live freely.

#mdzs #jc wank #mdzs meta #jiang cheng

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maximons · 3 years ago

Text

All Is Lost

Summary: Zombies have taken over the world, humanity on the edge of extinction. All hope was lost. Despite that, Wanda couldn’t seem to let go of Y/n, who had fallen victim to the plague herself.

Word Count: 2,263

Genre: Angst

Requested?: No

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, cannibalism, suicide, mentions of blood. Spoilers for Ep. 5 of What If...?

A/N: I know, I know, I’m gonna get into the stuff I promised soon. But for now, the Zombies episode inspired me and this came out. If you haven’t seen the episode yet, go watch it. Its amazing and depressing. Also this is DARK guys, probably the darkest thing I’ve ever written, so...Happy Reading!

The Zombie apocalypse was always something everyone joked about, but never something that anyone could actually predict.

Everything happened so quickly, Wanda could barely keep up. It’s hard to believe that everything was so normal only two weeks ago. Now, she was locked away with Vision in an abandoned military base in New Jersey. Desperate to survive for as long as possible while Vision worked on a cure.

Some of his experiments had been a success, most notably Scott Lang who he was able to revert back from his zombified state. However, the man was now only a severed head.

Despite the success, Vision was less than optimistic. For one, Scott was one of the first infected. While the cure worked on him, the android theorized that the disease has mutated greatly since then, and it was likely impossible to cure everyone. And even if he could, the technology to do so is beyond human comprehension and therefore doesn’t exist.

Vision might have all but given up hope, but Wanda didn’t. She couldn’t. She refused to give up on you.

Wanda and you have been best friends for as long as Wanda had been an Avenger. You were already a member of the team and greeted her with an open mind and open arms, despite all she had done. You had fire powers, and while your powers weren’t identical to Wanda’s, you still offered some basic tips and tricks to keep such explosive powers at bay.

It wasn’t a surprise that she fell in love with you.

But her stupid fear had to get in the way, and when you came to confess your own feelings for her, she panicked and rejected you. You were so heartbroken, Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know that.

And it kills her everyday knowing that that was the last interaction she had with you. The last one with you as yourself anyway.

All that remained now was the flesh hungry, blood thirsty monster that wore your, now rotting, skin.

This wasn’t you, she knows that. She looked into your mind and saw no trace of the woman you once were, the one she loved with all her heart. She couldn’t feel you, you were gone.

Despite this, Wanda couldn’t let you go. She couldn’t handle losing you entirely. She already lost almost everyone.

She managed to convince Vision to keep you in the base for testing. You were locked behind a large steel door, with only a window to see you through. But you were here, and that’s all Wanda cared about.

The cure wasn’t working for you. Your powers caused it to incinerate when it entered your system, proving it to be ineffective. Still, she refused to give up.

Vision thought it best to terminate you after the failed tests, but Wanda begged him not to. Knowing he couldn’t overpower her, and sensing his friend’s distress with anything that comes to you, he agreed. As long as Wanda had it under control.

She doubted he knew that she was luring innocent survivors into the base so you could feed on them, but she did what she had to do.

Wanda spent most of her days sitting outside of your cell. The first few days, you were ravenous. Banging on the walls and trying to burn them down, growling and screeching with the inhuman noise that took over your vocal chords, but you didn’t manage to break free. After a while, it seemed you have given up, and just sat in place. Only moving when Wanda opened the cell and let some of your ‘food’ in.

There were times where Wanda thought that maybe, just maybe, the cure was working more than they thought. You seemed to have recognized her, your facial expressions formed into ones that she had recognized and missed dearly. But that hope quickly died when she would peek into your head and still sense nothing.

“Hey, Y/n.” Wanda walked up to outside your cell and sat cross-legged like she did everyday. Your head rose, staring at her with your now glowing yellow eyes. “Still no progress on the cure, but don’t worry, I’m not giving up yet.” You offered no response, not that she expected one. “It’s hard. It’s only getting worse out there...” She sighed as she trailed off. She raised her hand to the glass, like she always did. “I’m going to figure it out...we’re gonna get you back to normal, and I’m going to tell you every day how much I love you. I miss you so much, but...we’re almost there. I can feel it...” Wanda’s voice started choking up, as tears ran down her face. “We deserve our happy ending.”

Her hand was still pressed against the glass as she finished her speech. She was about to lower it, but then something unexpected happened. You stared at her hand curiously, beginning to raise your own. Wanda watched, smile forming on her face as your arm made it’s way to the glass.

“Wanda! Please come here, we have a situation.” You had almost pressed your hand against Wanda’s, when Vision’s voice interrupted. Your attention turned to the direction it came from and you let out a growl, clearly angry at the interruption. Wanda sighed in disappointment, but she tried not to let it take over. You still showed massive improvement, something worth reporting back to Vision. “It’s okay.” She soothed you. “I’m going to go see what he wants then I’ll be right back, okay? I know you’re hungry, I’ll get you some food too.” You didn’t offer a response as she walked off.

“Vis! I have to tell you-” Wanda began as she walked into the main room, but cut herself off at the new faces. She didn’t recognize the bald woman with the spear or the wimpy looking man in a workers uniform, but she was familiar with Peter. What surprised her most though, was Bruce Banner. A man she hasn’t seen in over three years. “What is going on?”

“I ran into them outside the premises. Apparently word has gotten out about the cure.” Vision answered before turning his attention back to the guests. “As I told you, I am afraid we cannot help you. The cure seems to be a moot point.”

“Well, what about-” Peter began, but he was interrupted by a new voice.

“For something you have no hope for, you sure don’t have a problem bringing in new test subjects.” Wanda recognized Bucky Barnes’ voice. She turned around, and her eyes widened as she saw King T’challa on his arm, struggling to stand on his one remaining leg.

Shit.

“My king! We thought you dead.” The bald woman exclaimed in relief and surprise.

“Your highness. I was not aware you were in the base.” Vision said, confused on how that got by him. It didn’t take him long to figure out why. “Wanda...”

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered, knowing she was caught. “The cure wasn’t working on Y/n, and in order to keep her at bay, I had to feed her.”

“So you fed her our King?” A spear was raised to her throat, threateningly.

“It was nothing personal, I promise. I have her under control and the cure is starting to work, I know it. We just need a little more time!”

“Why not just kill her? You lured innocent people to their deaths just for her when there a couple million more Zombies out there that you could use for testing. Ones that have a chance of being cured.” The whole room went quiet after Bucky said that.

“Uh oh. Shouldn’t have said that.” Wanda heard Scott say, but she was too busy glaring at Bucky. Her eyes started to go red, but before she could do anything, she noticed the spear held to her throat begin to glow red and melt. The woman dropped the spear as it began to burn her hands.

“Did it just suddenly get like, super hot?” Peter asked as he began to fan himself.

“Oh no...” Wanda trailed off. She looked up to notice the steal walls that led to your cell begin to melt. “You’ve done it now...she hasn’t eaten in days.” Before anyone could respond, the steel doors melted completely. The man in the uniform was unfortunate enough to be standing in front of it, as a strong burst of flame shot out and incinerated him on the spot. Only a second later, you flew out the door, covered in flames as you hovered above everyone.

Wanda watched in horror as you began to fight everyone. They weren’t holding up very well, and that’s when Wanda finally realized what she had done. This wasn’t you, and if you were still here, you would hate to see your body be used to attack and kill others.

“Vision! Get us out of here!” She heard Bruce yell, and Vision shot a blast towards the wall, blowing it up and letting everyone out. Wanda turned her focus back to you, you watched them starting to escape and you began to fly after them, but a red mist surrounded you before you could. You turned your head, starting to growl, but stopped when you saw it was Wanda.

“Y/n. Stop...” You tilted your head, still struggling to move as Wanda came closer. She took a chance and reached up, gently placing a hand on your face. “I am so sorry...you never deserved this...” Your face softened at the touch, beginning to show the signs of emotion that Wanda desperately held onto. However, it was clear now that it was too late.

You snapped out of it, as you managed to break free from Wanda’s hold. You opened your mouth wide, intent on biting and feeding on her, but something stopped you. You hesitated, and Wanda noticed. You settled for pushing her aside to the ground as you reignited yourself and flew out of the base.

Wanda picked herself up after a moment, intent on stopping you. She ran past Okoye’s body, charred and eaten, but she was sure there was little time until she turned. She ran faster to where you were, now facing off against Bucky. She sprinted further, about to take off and fly when she paused.

Vision was face down on the ground. She kneeled next to him, glowing red hand turning over his body, afraid of what she’ll see. Once he was turned, Wanda gasped at the sight. The mind stone was torn out of his head.

“Oh no...no, no, no...” She held his body, tears slowly building as she mourned the loss of her best friend. She had officially lost everything. “I am so sorry Vis...I’m going to make this right, I promise.”

She heard Bucky scream. She looked over to see you start to feed on him. She saw Bruce, Peter, Scott and T’challa in the distance, making their way to the jet. They were your next target.

No. Wanda wasn’t going to let that happen. It ends now.

She used her powers to propel herself forward, landing directly in your path. You growled at her yet again as she used her powers to hold you. “Y/n...please, stop.” You struggled to get out of the hold, but Wanda held on. “This isn’t you...you wouldn’t want this...I love you more than anything, and I’m so sorry...I hope one day, you’ll forgive me.”

Wanda used her powers to grab the gun laying by Bucky’s side. She held in to your head, ready to pull the trigger...but she couldn’t. She let out a scream of frustration and dropped her hold on both you and the gun. The gun fell to the ground, but you haven’t moved.

“I can’t do it...I...I’m not strong enough...” Wanda began crying, shutting her eyes and waited for you to finish her off. She failed everyone, no one deserved death more than her. She opened her eyes when nothing came. You stood, staring at her with a tilt of your head. The yellow of your eyes dimming as you stared.

“W....Wan...” You struggled to let out, but it was enough for Wanda to hear. She cried even harder. She was right, you were almost there...but it was too late now.

You took in your surroundings as best you could, you didn’t have a lot of awareness, but you knew enough to piece everything together. You saw the influx of zombies starting to enter to base. Everyone needed to get away. You turned back to Wanda, and you knew what you had to do. You felt the little control you had start to slip away.

You bent down and picked up the discarded gun. You shakily pointed it to your temple, the control slipping away faster and faster. “Love....you....I...sorry...” You managed to croak out. Before you could lose control completely, you pulled the trigger.

Wanda watched in horror as you shot yourself in the head. Pieces of your brain landing on her, your blood drenching her. She looked down to see your body, half your face still together, but you were gone. Truly gone.

She knelt down sobbing, as she held your body. After a moment she looked up to see the Hulk appear as the zombies began to overwhelm the base. She saw the jet take off, and she gave a weak smile. They got away. Wanda’s job was done. This is where her story ends. All was lost for her.

So when the zombies finally reached her, she didn’t fight back. Accepting her death with open arms.

Epilogue

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

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