#I wish someone more eloquent and smarter than me would talk !! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ephemerlskies · 4 years ago

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constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back.

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire.

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound.

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay.

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override.

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried.

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him.

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bestfriend!au #jungkook angst #bts series #jungkook bestfriendstolovers!au #jungkook series #constant craving #rubycoast

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kendrixtermina · 5 years ago

Text

Assorted House of Feanor Thoughts

I wrote this as a reply to someone, but then realized that this should be a post of its own.

Line between extrapolation, interpretation & headcanon is going to be fluid here

Long post under cut

The seven sons in general:

all moody, fierce, intense and brilliant, each in various different ways

none of them can really stand to be cooped up in one place for long

F R E C K L E S you will not convince me otherwise

Apart from the ones explicitly described as pretty (ie, Maedhros and Celegorm) they’re actually relatively plain by elf standards, or at least sort of rugged-looking, especially compared to their part-Vanyar cousins - I mean, figures that some would turn out more like Miriel or Nerdanel both of which were supposedly more average.

all are very resourceful having spent most of their lives helping out with their parent’s projects, exploring the wilderness, or (save for Celegorm) hanging out in Aule’s halls. Most can probably whip up a steampunk or magitech solution to basic war-related problems

Because of this they’re a very tight-knit group

growing up, they did not know many children their age; Ironically the most contact they had was with their cousins because Feanor paid semi-regular visits to Finwe. Apart from Turgon (and Orodreth if you place him in the second rather than the third post-journey generation) the cousins really dug the adventure stories. (Galadriel pretended not to be interested and offered plenty of critiques, but listened anyways)

more survival skills and just a lot more casual than your average princes

They’d all been adults for a good while by the time of the rebellion; the twins are a tad older than Aredhel, Galadriel and Argon; Caranthir and Angrod are about the same age. Curufin is younger than Aegnor.

They all look back at that trip to the lightless shore of the outer sea as a cherished family memory

Also I don’t think Feanor disciplined his sons very much after all his own father let him get away with everything. In his eyes the brats can do no wrong especially not Curufin and to a lesser extent Amrod Nerdanel tried her best to counterbalance this and it kind of worked on some of them, but the three middle ones were a lost cause

I think a lot of the weight behind the oath comes from how Feanor made them promise him to see it through on his deathbed. It was his literal last wish.

Maedhros:

The Leader™, the most strong-willed and the deadliest fighter by a huge margin. What the orc under your bed has nightmares about.

Obviously a very competent diplomat, strategist, and the sort to put constructive results over personal glory; resilient, formidable, unpretentious and tough as leather

but not at all overconfident, and the type who is not blind to the flaws of the people he loves. He knows very well that Feanor wasn’t perfect and does many things that his father would not have agreed with - at the same time he has a strong sense of obligation, honor and loyalty which turns out to be his fatal flaw in the end when being loyal and keeping his word increasingly requires him to do dishonorable things

if there was a definite breaking point it was the fiasco with Dior’s sons

Stoic but courteous and eloquent; From Finwe’s death onwards increasingly grim, grizzled and not very hopeful, though he’s the sort to give his all and try to be noble even when there’s no reward or even thanks or respect.

Despite this, he has as a dry sense of humor and at times uses it to defuse tense situations or disarm people he’s negotiating with (see the scene with Thingol’s message) - does have a streak of gallows humor to him especially after the Thangorodrim incident

As the heir Feanor actually let him in on trade secrets and scientific speculation; Their relationship is probably the most equal; I do think Feanor was capable of actually appreciating that Maedhros got a mind of his own and isn’t afraid to stand up for himself. Feanor values independent thought, even if he’s not always good at really living that value with his tendency to take things personally and see others as taking sides for or against him.

Can’t really craft stuff to the same degree without his right hand. He then focussed on more abstract/mental pursuits which were perhaps his forte, to begin with but it still bothers him more than he lets on, especially since he still retains, or swiftly regained, his skill at making things dead.

He may or may not qualify as a cinnamon roll but he definitely looks like could kill you

Maglor:

Maedhros might have been the token responsible sibling, but Maglor was the understanding, comforting one and always had a nurturing streak - hence why he was the one to take in the kids.

Sensitive Artistic Type™ - goes from quirky and passionate back in Valinor to melancholy & tormented as the war drags on

one of those people who despair over & get self-critical over their work even when it’s regarded as masterpieces

Like Feanor and Miriel before him, he tends to get super absorbed in his work/art and just plain disappears for days

Now some ppl hold that he didn’t start having second thoughts until near the end, but judging from how he comes along to Fingolfin’s party or to hang out with Finrod, I’d hold that he was always ‘the nice/gentle one’, but not solely in a positive way; Unlike Maedhros he did not stand up to Feanor about the thing with the ships and indeed lets Maedhros talk him out of turning himself in at the very end, so he’s probably somewhat lacking in assertiveness

Even so, he’s probably one of the better fighters, given the difficult territory he gets, that he’s the one to kill Ulfang, and how long he survives. He probably feels ambivalent about this.

I imagine him having an agility-based fighting style

Probably codified the heroic epos as a specifically Noldorin art form

Celegorm:

A lot of ppl focus on the barbarian aspect, but I’d say he actually has some degree of ‘subverted prince charming’ going on, with how he sweet-talks Luthien at first before throwing her in the dungeon, and how he seems to have been one of the more accomplished ones, joining a respected order and all

He’s actually pretty elegant and perhaps playfully gallant, but it’s a facade; He’s an animal underneath; though his instincts are probably somewhat nobler than what ends up happening when he gets roped into Curufin’s schemes

usually, the first to react and leap into action when something happens.

Herculean strength, daunting presence

also a fairly efficient general, if a bit of a glory hound and pretty fearless in the pursuit of victory

very much has an ego and doesn’t like being humbled at all

Strikes me as the sort of person who would take badly to the realization that they can no longer return to the glory of the past or being judged unworthy, not that he’d respond with anything but defiance

Wrestles giant monsters barehanded

Always low-key wished to fight creatures of darkness before the rebellion to test his might against them; Orome and the Maiar members of the hunt would have told stories of them

though he gets his pretty face from Daddy, his strong build comes from Nerdanel, possibly somewhat accentuated by his being a dude

Caranthir:

grumpy, moody, no filter, likes his alone time, shows his feelings mostly through actions, also somewhat pragmatic

the quartermaster; Actually one of the smarter ones, if not outright the second smartest after Curufin, though he has more a logistic/administrative sort of intelligence

generally one of the more prosaic, practical family members, or maybe he’s just more subtle about his dramatic side or has a harder time expressing it. Definitely has Hidden Dephts™

I mean, putting your hideout on the slope of a mountain near a deep, dark lake circled by mountains? Goth AF. A+ aesthetic there.

Hosts the family get-togethers at his fortress. Has most certainly shoved Celegorm and Curufin in the lake at some point

has a certain respect for strength, valor and skill even in ppl he doesn’t necessarily like; Not at all diplomatic or polite, but also not finicky or fastidious, so actually forged a whole lot of alliances on a “everyone’s money/swords are equally good and we don’t have to set conditions” basis and seems to have been pretty successful at this

started out haughty but definitely learned to be more open-minded/ broaden his horizon over his time in Beleriand - but as no good deed goes unpunished, Ulfang happens

Whereas Curufin and Celegorm can put up a noble veneer but will totally stab you in the back if provoked, Caranthir’s sort of the opposite, in that he’s rude and quarrelsome on first contact but has a good heart deep down (see the Haladin incident) and doesn’t keep grudges long term once he’s done grumbling where Celegorm is sore loser and Curufin a spiteful twerp.

though personally, I don’t see Caranthir as trying to reign himself in. He wouldn’t really be known as “the harshest” in that case. Who was gonna teach him to behave himself, Feanor maybe? kek.

Curufin:

We have a lot of actual dialogue & description for him - he has this characteristic little defiant smile, is often coldly contemptuous in tone, some level of ruthless pragmatism

has mild/vague foresight - nothing as impressive as what Finrod and Galadriel have, but he has it more or less to the degree that Feanor did.

actually pretty insightful, thought-through and political-minded in some ways, too bad he shares Feanor’s tendency for unwarranted suspicion and factionalism, as well as a tendency to just act on his own without checking with anyone

always either filthy from work or fully blinged-out and impeccably groomed, no in-between

more calculated and subtle than Feanor - not that Feanor ever needed calculation or subtlety since he could get by on sheer awe or intimidation. Celegorm and Maedhros have that same quality in spades and Curufin’s a little bit jealous

Not actually that much older than the twins, but always acted older than his age, especially once he heard that Feanor was the same

collects weapons, loves fancy horses, the most traditionally aristocratic of the seven

Got married relatively young; saw it as a matter of honor to further his family’s line

continued his scholarly pursuits in Beleriand; this is part of why he elected to share a territory with Celegorm

The last Celebrimbor ever heard of him was a magically sealed box filled with research notes he sent out in case he didn’t make it out alive

Did not take his parents’ estrangement well and is stubbornly salty toward Nerdanel (though deep down he misses her as much as his brothers if not more)

Frequently the Bad Influence/ Shoulder Devil to his brothers.

But when he gets excited about his research/craft he’s got this “exited cocky little boy” side to him that’s surprisingly pure.

Only Nerdanel and possibly Celebrimbor’s mom are allowed to call him ‘Atarinke.’ His brothers might still use it when they’re teasing or scolding him.

The Twins:

Every time a fic does something else with them than “generic prankster redheads” I cry with joy

We don’t have that many data points on them, but most of them suggest they’re every bit as fierce as their brothers

they’re somewhat aloof & mostly do their own thing;

As kids they’d mostly sit in a corner and play with each other. Possibly deliberately played up their identicalness as a kind of emo fashion statement / to fuck with people (”Should we do this Ambarussa?” - ”I don’t know, what do you think, Ambarussa?”)

never really gave up their semi-nomadic ways

Compared to Celegorm they probably more on stealth and precision than strength and bravado. They suddenly appear in front of you, and bam! You’ve got an arrow poking out of your face. Probably the ones scouting the perimeter of the camp.

Amras is a bit sassier, but it’s actually Amrod who’s a little bit braver.

Hardly ever argued until their parents’ estrangement; That led to quite a few quarrels between them.

For all his faults, Feanor made a point of doing things with each of them individually.

quietly nursing some level of pent-up despair and frustration until they push for the assault on Sirion

In the version where one of them dies, and then no one ever talks about it, - I imagine that the remaining one ended up cynical in a “let’s just get it ever with we’re already doomed after all’ kind of way

Bonus:

Celebrimbor

“Curiosity killed the cat but the second mouse gets the cheese” incarnate. He’s a sweet, excitable, deeply good guy, but Curiosity is the strongest force within him, besides maybe “think of the potential”

very bold in his thinking, not held back by any conventional boundaries. This is partially why he ended up more independent than his father and uncles but ironically that might in a sense make him more similar to grandpa than any of them

Really looks like Feanor. Like, Arwen and Luthien level of resemblance. It takes ppl a bit to notice because of how different his general demeanor and surface-level personality is.

Very scattered and absent-minded, prone to sudden flashes of inspiration, often shows up in some form of disarray

spent his adolescence at Formenos. Retained a certain affinity for wintery places ever since

He sensed something fishy about Sauron before long, but between wanting to avoid the family propensity for unwarranted suspicion and being tempted by all the possibilities of what he could do with that power/knowledge even if it did come from a fishy source, he didn’t act before it was too late - he can't have been fully clueless since he hid the three; There was definitely just a bit of actual seduction/forbidden fruit appeal in place there, whether to use the word “hubris” probably depends on your philosophy.

He drops the ‘th’ once he renounces Curufin, but slips right back into the old habit when excited or exasperating. At some point during his rule of Eregion, he stops bothering to hide it - A similar thing happens when he’s talking Sindarin with his northeast Beleriand accent.

I know this is a very popular old hat headcanon, but... His other name is also “Curufinwe”. Everyone called him Telperinquar from the start, lest all three come running and grumble about being distracted from work, but after the Nargothrond debacle, he had other reasons for not using it. But really, Telperinquar/Celebrimbor is just another more metaphorical way to say “this baby shall be good at working with his hands” so yeah

My HC for where he was between the Finrod incident and the second age is as follows: He departed for war with Gwindor’s troupe (this is someone who tried to engineer a way around entropy - not a “do nothing” sort of guy) and fled the battlefield with Turgon. (hence some of the passages that place him in Gondolin can still be made to work. He totally made Earendil’s baby-sized mail coat) He fled with Idril’s party. Had she not tipped him off somehow he would probably have died with the rest of the smith’s guild. Or perhaps he grabbed all the valuable records he could find and ran for it because someone needed to preserve them. As living surrounded by the survivors of Doriath would have been awkward to say the least, he went to the isle of Balar to offer his skills and service to Gil-Galad. This is where he befriended/ reconnected with Galadriel and Celeborn.

Finrod once told him the “faithful stone” legend from Brethil. It would be an inspiration to him much later. Generally credits Finrod with being a good influence on him.

Judging by the stars on the doors of Durin his stance on his family probably softened over the years. He essentially attained their original new dream of exploring distant lands and building unparalleled new realms, at least for a while - also definitely has a similar “screw destiny!”/ “I defy you stars!” attitude. Perhaps he wanted to see their vision done right.

But on some level, I think he also wanted to associate himself with their fame eventually especially once his own accomplishments grew. His feelings were probably always very ambiguous because he must have admired and envied their great works but also lived getting weird looks whenever he did what he’s best at and loves doing most in the world because it associates him with these very ambiguous people whom many hated... at one point in the past he must have really admired his father and grandfather, I mean, he came with them across the sea.

Nerdanel

She got Feanor the apprenticeship / gave him the idea after they met on their travels.

Were seen as something of an eccentric hippie/ hipster couple in the early days

She’s tough, confident and definitely quipped/ yelled back at times. Definitely described as ‘strong-willed’ and individual. Like this was a ‘kindred spirits’ thing before everything went to hell

it counts for something that even during the ugly bitter parting scene the worst Feanor could say was “someone must’ve turned you against me because you definitely cared once” rather than “you’re a traitor” for all that everything else in that scene made him very punchable

Their relationship dynamic, as I see it, is that she’s the one person who just sees and treats him like a normal dude. No apprehension, no fawning. He’s not “the greatest” or a tainted aberration to her, he’s simply a like-minded friend. So she’s pretty chill about his idiosyncrasies and doesn’t see them as a big deal, but on the other hand, she’s not overawed and will not take bullshit

Since she is good at understanding people she probably usually gets where he’s coming from even when he’s not being reasonable

possibly invented abstract art; was most certainly influential.

the elves who serve Aule probably have their own little traditions. She might’ve imparted some of those on her descendants

Also ppl tend to forget that she also does metalwork. Again, it’s quite possible that she got him into it and that if they’d never met, he might have landed in a completely different discipline

I think it says a lot about Feanor that he chose her for being smart, creative and independent-minded. It shows that he actually values these things and that it’s not just a rhetorical device; he’s not a hypocrite, he failed at what he was genuinely trying to aim for.

She had Finwe won over the moment she mentioned that she likes children. To Feanor’s chagrin, she proclaimed that his then-tiny half-siblings were the cutest thing ever but since he was trying to impress Nerdanel, he actually kept his composure there.

She was totally buds with Earwen and Anaire.

I really like those fics where she played some part in the reconstruction efforts. She’s already renowned for her wisdom and has some familiarity with the court, so why wouldn’t Finarfin make her an advisor?

Miriel

She was described as having “silver” hair like what the teleri sometimes have, but that was for lack of a better world. It’s actually pretty close to pure white. It was an unprecedented anomaly. Celegorm got it. Though overall Maglor might be the one who most looks like her. Or maybe Caranthir.

Well, her tendency to refuse to eat her words no matter what has certainly proven highly heritable

Canonically one of those ppl who talks very fast

Feanor doesn’t look very much like her at all, but he talks like her and is similar in his body language etc. The shape of her hands, however, has made it all the way to Celebrimbor in an unbroken line. Maglor’s got em too.

She was the only one of her family to make the great journey. That’s why “the names of her kin are not recorded”. You see, they tried to convince her not to go, and that only made her more determined.

Miriel and Indis used to have this thing where Miriel would sing while Indis plays the instrument. First time Indis caught Maedhros and Fingon doing something similar she got very emotional about it. She told them how she and Miriel also used to have a sort of odd friendship despite their opposite looks and personalities. Maedhros had at this point never even heard that they used to be friends. She proceeded to tell him some fun stories from Miriel’s youth and encouraged the two to spend time together.

We’re told that Miriel and Finwe only got together in Valinor; Since Indis had a thing for him since before the Vanyar moved out of Tirion it’s fully possible that Indis actually liked him first. Maybe she actually introduced them to each other, like she wasn't confident enough to ask him on a date so she brought her friend, only for the two to be immediately smitten with each other. Poor Indis decided that she had no chance and moved out of town when Ingwe did.

Miriel definitely expresses her love/admiration in the way of “You! You’re perf! I must make art of you!”

Since his arrival in the halls of Mandos, Feanor has made several of Vaire’s Maiar cry with his critique of their tapestries, but he holds that his mom’s are best.

Feanor himself

In general, I hold that while he said many things that were not right, there’s a lot of what he prophecied that was not quite wrong and does come true in a kind of way, even if not necessarily for himself and his family. They sort of pave the way as Promethean figures. The second mouse gets the cheese (it’s usually some Nolofinwean)

Though he’s also the ultimate example of “you are not immune to propaganda”. Literally the smartest man in the world; Still touchy enough to be an easy mark for emotional manipulation.

I think a lot of ff undersells what a polymath he must’ve been and that part where he worked on many different topics and was “the most learned”.

You know the type of author who has a bazillion unfinished wips going and jumps wildly from topic to topic? Feanor’s research notes are exactly like that, especially the tendency to disintegrate into cryptic jottings and notes right before the most interesting part. Just like the unfinished texts from HoMe Just like Gauss or Euler, having invented everything a hundred years ahead and 40% more discoveries buried that he never felt ready to publish. (I can also definitely see the sons – especially Maedhros and Curufin – spending the better part of the siege of Angband compiling some of it into a presentable format. Celebrimbor would then be the one to stumble upon implications /corollaries that had somehow been missed for thousands of years.

For all that I enjoy fics where they’re all smoll and adorable as much as the next person, canonically we’re given every indication that he was an adolescent or young adult by the time the remarriage occurred. The published silm has him “well-nigh full-grown” by the time Indis started having kids; In the HoME passage detailing the romantic meeting on the mountain it’s said that he was “wandering in the mountains” (ie, old enough to do so on his own) at the time. He moved out as soon as he could, so he and his half-siblings never actually spent any significant time in the same household

I mean, he reacted like a teenager would, and IMHO neither his character nor Finwe’s make any sense if this wasn’t a single parent situation early on.

Personally, I really don’t like that headcanon that he was nicer to the sisters for no reason. I don’t think his relationship with Fingolfin was ever much better than the sort of “awkwardly tolerating” we saw at the reconciliation scene; At the same time, I don’t think things would ever have escalated to that degree if Melkor hadn’t gone mucking things up.

In the same vein, I don’t think he always had beef with the Valar. He used to hang out in Aule’s halls and let Celegorm study with Orome after all and studied their language. - he certainly seems to have had some romanticism for the Hither Lands evident in his speeches, he traveled far past the well-lit areas, made crystals that shine in starlight etc. so he was probably always somewhat independent-minded and he certainly knew, better than anyone, that the Valar are imperfect and can’t fix everything (they couldn’t heal Miriel after all) - but it’s a long way from healthy skepticism and understandable disappointment to asserting bad intentions where there are none.

There’s a long way between not wanting a relationship with someone, and pointing stabby objects at them. Feanor was always difficult and never the type of person to be easily satisfied but at the same time, he clearly had his “delight” in his work and life as it was pre-Melkor. He could’ve gone on as an inventor and author of strongly worded opinion pieces; perhaps the elves were even “meant” to go back & come into contact with the Edain for a brief while, just without all the murder.

The thing about Melkor’s lies is that they made a complicated situation conveniently easy in a way that he (and Fingolfin!) would want to believe. It’s not really either of their fault that they both exist, but if your rival is actually out to get you then suddenly all your negative feelings are justified

Personally, I don’t think it the remarriage made that much of a difference - Miriel would still be dead. What Feanor’s really mad at is the inherent unfairness of the world. But he can’t fix or fight that, so in a misfire of his engineer’s mindset that thinks in terms of simple cause and effect and wants the world to be logical and controllable, he blamed something tangible (Indis.)

I think Melkor hates him so much because he’s kinda what Melkor wishes he was or likes to think he is. They’re both the mightiest of their respective kinds and don’t really fit in, but Feanor’s actually extremely creative. He goes and does his own thing, and maybe errs in overlooking that no man is an island and that all works are built on those of others, but, look at Melkor who wants all the scale of a group project but none of the “cooperation” part and basically can’t make anything of his own. “You’re like me, yet you’re successful? I cannot allow it!”

In a sense you have classic Satan and Miltonian satan in the same setting, and they can’t stand each other

#silmarillion #house of feanor #sons of feanor #feanor #nerdanel #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #caranthir #curufin #amrod #amras #celebrimbor

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 5 years ago

Note

request: jaskier x reader enemies to lovers in which the reader is not a jealous asshole lmao

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 3,273Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan @mycat-is-mylove @amirahiddleston a/n: Hey! I am a sucker for an academic rivalry and that’s the way I approached this. It’s really long but I hope you enjoy!

You took a deep breath before entering the classroom, plastering on a serene, professional smile. There were more students present than usual which only rankled further, knowing they had come here to see him instead of your usual classes. He wasn’t there yet (typical) but you were grateful. Walking in to see so-called Professor Pankratz beating you to your own class would have been more than you could bear. Then again, he was never on time for class when you were students so luck had been on your side.

“Good morning class, so nice to see that so many of you have recovered for your many ailments and just in time for a presentation for our guest lecturer,” you said. The students chuckled sheepishly and you fixed them with an accusatory look that melted into a smile and a head shake. They were just kids. It hadn’t been terribly long ago you were in their shoes and there were many times you wished you could have jut run off and avoided your responsibilities like others you’d known. Right on cue, the door opened and in strode Julian Pankratz or – as he was known now – Jaskier.

He looked practically the same as he had back then. Chestnut hair shorter and roguishly swept to the side but the same hue, golden highlights catching in the sun that streamed through the large windows. Smile quirked into the exact same cocky little grin, sky blue eyes sparkling with amusement, always on the lookout for a good time. His clothing choices had become more ornate but the same good quality they’d always been, him and all the other nobility thinking nothing of the clothes they wore or the fact that a single doublet would pay for a semester of classes. As he caught your eye a familiar look of smugness came over his features and you bristled. You’d always been academic rivals. You didn’t usually care about someone being smarter than you, most were anyway, but someone who swanned into Oxenfurt Academy, resting on his family’s laurels and roving around missing classes yet still somehow managing to give you a run for your title as Valedictorian was another matter. On the rare occasions he did deign to show up to class he’d usually be half-hungover, lacking all supplies, and yet teacher’s stopped calling on him to make an example because he’d always know the answer. Good answers, too. So no, you didn’t hate Julian because he was smart or handsome or well-liked or even because he was your fiercest competition in school. You hated him because he was all of these things and didn’t work for any of it and didn’t seem to appreciate its value. This position you held as a professor at a university that had been an impossible sounding dream for a child who grew up in poverty meant everything to you. But for Julian, it was just another honor bestowed on him. Hell, he was invited to teach today.

“Ah, Julian, right off time,” you said dryly.

“Professor Pankratz I think it is, Y/N,” he replied. You bristled and bit back a litany of oaths.

“As I was telling the students, Julian, you are here today to provide a guest lecture and if anyone has questions-” two dozen arms shot up in the sky eagerly, “They will wait under after the lesson.”

The arms retracted glumly but the students lit up as you stepped aside, giving the bard a space at the podium.

“Thank you, Y/N. You know, your professor and I go way back. We were school chums just like you. She’s always been incredibly smart. I mean, the record may show that she never could quite top me but she still gave me a good run,” he winked at you as he said the words and then gave you a wicked smile, like a child who knew they were being bad in public and didn’t care what would happen when they got home. You kept the same serene smile on your face like a mask and you spent the next hour and a half of his talk imagining the different ways you would use the historical tools of torture display in the history wing to wipe that smug smile off of his face.

—–

After the lecture (which was exceptional, damn it) Julian suggested the question and answer portion be done outside because it was “such a lovely day” and you “probably wanted to review your notes over his lecture to include in the class’s curricula” and they poured out of your class leaving you in blessed silence. You had to admit you appreciated the extra time to prepare for tomorrow’s class. You finished grading and even had time to clean the chalkboard thoroughly. You were gazing at it in admiration of a job well done when a voice popped up by the open door.

“Admit it, that was brilliant.”

Suddenly your good mood vanished. You cut Jaskier a sharp glance from the corner of your eye.

“The students aren’t here anymore Julian you don’t need to stick around,” you said coolly.

“Oh I know,” he replied, moving into the room further, “I thought I’d ask an old friend for a drink. Catch up properly since I’m in town.”

You scoffed and shook your head, turning to face him.

“We’re not friends, Julian. We never were and I don’t see why we would be now,” you said bluntly. He smiled at your words, not an unpleasant or false one, a genuine, nostalgic smile.

“Gods I’ve missed the way you never put up with my shit,” he said. You blinked at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Everyone else was impressed by the Pankratz name and my other, admittedly many, charms but you always saw through it. I think that’s why I tried to impress you so much. Hell, maybe it’s why I’m still trying,” he said.

“I thought you hated me, you were always a prick. And don’t try that stupid ‘boys torment girls they like’ bullshit with me because that’s bollocks at best and dangerous at worst,” you argued. He smirked.

“Oh no, you were a bitch. You kind of still are. But I’ve grown to develop an affection for bitches.”

“Get fucked, Pankratz.”

“Ooh not as eloquent as you were back in the day. What was it you called me that one time? As stupid as an ox and half as useful?” he quoted. You smiled in appreciation of your younger self’s burn.

“Come have a drink with me,” he offered again. Despite yourself, you were curious about what Julian had been up to. Sure you heard the rumors and the songs and knew he was a celebrity. But you also knew that the stories you heard about people rarely matched the truth and perhaps with enough ale and the right questions you’d get somewhere close to that.

“You’re paying,” you said, taking up your purse and getting out the key to lock the classroom.

“But of course,” Jaskier said in faux surprise, “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat the lady to drinks?”

For the sake of peace, you bit your tongue.

—–

“Alright,” Jaskier said once you’d both ordered your drinks, “Let’s get this out of the way. Ask me about Geralt.”

“The witcher?” you asked. Jaskier nodded, a weary nod that suggested he’d had this talk many, many times before. “I don’t really have any questions.”

Jaskier eyed you suspiciously, disbelief plain on his face but you weren’t kidding. You knew about witchers, had read many different accounts from believe who head varying levels of respect and fear towards them, but you didn’t really concern yourself with them. As far as you could tell their primary trade was killing monsters and you weren’t one so you doubted you’d have any dealings with them.

“People usually want to know what he’s like, if he has horns, does he eat babies, etc.,” Jaskier explained.

“Well those people sound… ill-informed,” you said tactfully, “I do have questions though. Not about Geralt, about you.”

“Me?” Jaskier sounded surprised.

“Of course. A classmate goes off and becomes a renowned bard and you don’t think I’m going to have questions?” you asked.

“You never showed much interest in my life or affairs before.”

“I didn’t have to hear about some new rumor about you every day from students before. Well, actually I guess I did. But there were fewer rumors of immortality and frankly based on how you look I’m starting to think those might be right,” you said, taking a sip of your mead and giving him an assessing look. He laughed and took a drink from his ale.

“Not as far as I know, no,” he said.

“But the rest is true, then? Touring the country, the bard with his pet witcher, wooing and rutting around the countryside with great aplomb?”

Jaskier smiled ruefully as he looked down into his drink, thinking about the portrait you painted of him, that had been painted while he was off. He could lie and tell you it was true but he had a feeling you’d know. As he’d said, you always saw through his bullshit.

“Quite the opposite, really. True my songs are well loved and I have successfully reformed many opinions about Geralt, if not witchers on the whole, but I am more often treated as the “pet” of Geralt. The human that follows him around. It’s… not entirely wrong but it’s also horseshit, you know?”

You were surprised by the vulnerability. This wasn’t the proud, blustering Julian of a decade ago. He was still there but there was also a maturity to him. It was deeply unsettling.

“That must be hard for you. You never did like standing in another’s shadow,” you said.

“I have little experience doing so. You understand,” he volleyed. You glowered at him as you took another drink. Yes, some things were still the same.

“And adventuring? How is that suiting you? You a natural at that as you were everything else?” you asked, a bit of bitterness slipping into your tone.

“Gods no,” he said laughing, “No I am… well, I’m better than I was, but I’ve also nearly died more times than I can count so that doesn’t speak to a great amount of skill.”

You felt a little guilty about how validating it was to hear Jaskier state that there was finally something even he couldn’t fake his way through.

“That must be very difficult,” you said, working to keep the satisfaction out of your voice, “Finding the one thing is this world you aren’t naturally adept at without any effort or work.”

“I worked, Y/N,” Jaskier replied, frowning at the implication, “I wrote the same papers you did.”

“Yes, but yours were written 15 minutes before class or turned into an improvised ballad performed on the spot and mine were toiled over for hours in the library and edited mercilessly. We are not the same,” you argued.

“Do you want me to apologize for being naturally talented?” he asked. You scoffed and shook your head, fighting the urge to throw the remaining contents of your cup in his smug face.

“No, Julian, I want you to appreciate that you’re talented. I want you to stop acting like you’re somehow superior and I want you to stop getting everything you want handed to you because you’re from a titled family and famous and never had to really worry about taking care of yourself,” you snapped.

“You think people took care of me?” he replied incredulously, “Y/N my family didn’t give a shit about me. Hell, I don’t know if they even realized I was gone when I went to school. Even the people around me at the university, I knew they didn’t give a shit, they wouldn’t have my back or stick around if I wasn’t constantly making myself useful to them. And you think that’s somehow different now? The witcher barely tolerates my presence some days and I have to work hard to find ways to be useful because I know that if I stop, even for a moment, he will be gone too.”

After he finished he kicked himself for saying it, waiting for a look of pity from you as you listened to him complain. Or contempt because even he knew that it could be worse. But you just nodded slightly, a look of understanding dawning on your face.

“Well. You’re still an ass,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. A wide smile broke out over Jaskier’s face and you couldn’t help but return it. He had that effect on people. For once it didn’t seem self-serving, though, just genuine happiness.

“So is that what you’re doing with me?” you asked, serious again, “Trying to find a way to be useful or charm me so you’ll have a contact back in Oxenfurt?”

“When you put it that way I sound so self-serving,” he scoffed, “No, Y/N. Frankly I don’t need you as a contact. I was invited to lecture here and I seriously doubt you were the one did that.”

You didn’t say anything, glancing awkwardly down at your glass.

“Wait… no… surely not,” Jaskier squinted at you suspiciously and you heaved a great sigh.

“Fine, alright I did. But only because very begrudgingly I have to admit you know what you’re talking about and this segment is hard for students if they don’t care about what they’re studying and nothing makes students care like hearing it from someone new and exciting and oh for the gods’ sake if you don’t stop grinning at me like that I will kick you,” you snapped. Jaskier didn’t heed your warnings, the grin overtaking his face and this time you could resist the pull to smile back. You crossed your arms in front of you in a huff, waiting for him to throw it back in your face, to make some snide remark about proof that he’s smarter than you after all.

“Thank you,” he said after a beat of silence. There was sincerity in his eyes, also unsettling, but also not a bad look on him. “I enjoyed it. I’ve missed the school, really.”

“I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in my classroom. Granted, someone was murdered there a few hundred years ago so the bar is pretty high for that honor,” you sighed. The rest of your evening passed quickly as you shared anecdotes and laughter. Before you knew it the tavern was closing and you were told to get a room or get out. Jaskier had shot you a suggestive smile but you’d rolled your eyes and told him he could walk you home.

“You know this is going to sound silly but I think… Well, I wish maybe we’d been friends in school,” you admitted, lips loosened by the mead and the newfound sense of comradery with the man walking at your side. He laughed, the sound turning to mist in the cool night air, and grinned at you.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. Your face fell and you began to feel embarrassed.

“No, not because of you!” he explained quickly, “But I wasn’t really the sort of person I think you’d have liked back then. I mean, clearly, because you’ve harbored such a long hatred of me.”

“Hatred is a strong word,” you lied, “But you’re probably right. I could be a bit stuck up myself.”

“I’m glad that we’ve reconnected, though. Or I suppose, connected for the first time,” Jaskier said. You arrived at home sooner than you’d expected and you lingered at the door.

“How long are you in town?” you asked.

“I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh… with, uh, what’s his name?”

Jaskier beamed at you as though you’d just given him the finest compliment in his life. And in a way, you had. For once he wasn’t the one whose name was ignored and forgotten.

“Geralt. And yes, I told him I’d meet up with him. Onto the next adventure,” he explained. He was excited by the disappointment in your eyes, almost as excited as the fact that you weren’t yet going inside, perhaps even considering offering him an invite.

“If you want to come back sometime, to lecture and maybe get another drink with an old…” your voice trailed off as you tried to decide what to call what you were now.

“Colleague?”

“Friend?”

“Yes, alright, friend,” you assented, earning yet another wide, beaming smile from Jaskier, “I’d like that. If you have time. I know you’re very busy and important.”

You said the words sarcastically and Jaskier nodded and sighed heavily.

“It’s true, the world needs its songs. But I would be happy to come back again. And see you. And do my part to enlighten the youths of the world. And see you.”

“You said that twice.”

“I meant it doubly much.”

“Doubly much? That can’t be good grammar.”

“Gods, do you ever turn off?” he huffed in amused exasperation.

“Never, it’s one of my charms,” you replied, smirking. Jaskier moved closer and you were reminded of how tall he was. And broad. And handsome.

“I have half a mind to kiss that smirk right off your face,” he murmured, the pale blue eyes caressing them with his gaze.

“You have a half a mind period,” you sassed, a defensive reaction that struck when you were nervous. Most men were turned away by it, and you couldn’t blame them. But sparring was an old game for the two of you and Jaskier smiled, chuckling darkly before saying,

“Alright now you’re gonna get it.”

His lips brushed against yours, featherlight and teasing, and then swept back, a little firmer, capturing your mouth and pressing in closer, one arm wrapping around your waist and pressing you against the door as he slid his tongue through your slightly parted mouth. You sighed into the kiss and he gave a soft moan in return as your tongue found his, entangling and learning the warmth of each other’s mouths, the brush of teeth against lip, the taste of mead and ale blending in a heady mixture. By the time Jaskier pulled back you were both panting slightly. You swallowed hard and looked up into his eyes.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked, peppering your jawline with kisses. Your eyes squeezed shut and you licked your lips, summoning your will to be sensible.

“No,” you replied. His kisses stop and he pulled back to look at you, unabashedly surprised.

“No?”

“No,” you answered, “Go on your journeys, Julian Pankratz or Jaskier de Lettenhove or whoever you are or shall be. Go and then return to me. If you can do that, well… Perhaps.”

“I may die,” he intoned dramatically, though he made no move to continue his seduction, taking your words to heart.

“Then there shall be two great tragedies that day,” you answered in a tone that was just as dramatic, “That you have died, and that you never knew the pleasures of my body.”

He laughed, throwing his head back and then leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips.

“You’re a minx. But alright, it’s a date,” he said. You bit your bottom lip, fighting back an argument that it could only really be a date if they both declared it to be and really they had just agreed to meet up as friends but sometimes even you had to admit there was a time and place for being pedantic.

“It’s a date.”

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier drabble #jaskier fluff #jaskier angst #reader request #jaskier imagines

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marril96 · 5 years ago

Text

Against All Odds

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: A confrontation about Rowena's recent distant behavior leads to revelations of hidden insecurities and a deep-rooted emotional vulnerability

A/N: Based on this prompt by @wlw-lesbianimagines. Huge thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for summary help!

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

"We need to talk."

You said it so firmly, so matter-of-fact that shivers slid down Rowena's spine. Whenever you spoke to her like that, in that tone that turned blood to ice, she knew to expect bad news.

"Okay," she said, though it really wasn't. Something was wrong. She could feel it, could see it on your face; in your eyes that were locked with hers, looking through them, piercing straight into her soul; in the firm line of your mouth, devoid of its usual smile that greeted her; in the arch of your eyebrows, pointed and questioning.

Had she done something? Rowena thought back to this morning, to the days before. She couldn't remember an argument, or even an offhand remark she might have made that you could have taken wrong (which had happened in the past, though she liked to think she was better than that now. She wasn't that heartless woman anymore). She hadn't forgotten any important dates; all were seared into her memory, none on which were today. You'd even cuddled with her this morning while she was reading.

As far as she was aware, things were okay.

"Has something happened?"

Had Sam and Dean called you with news of impending apocalypse — again? Were there monsters lurking in the area? Hunters intent on killing witches? Had you received personal, private bad news? Rowena's mind was going a thousand miles an hour, new scenarios popping in like movie trailers, playing out one after the other, none more pleasant than the rest.

"No," you said, and she let a small wave of relief wash over her. "It's not…" You breathed, deep and hard. Gathered up all your courage. "I wanna talk about us."

Och? "What about us?"

The two of you were fine. Your relationship was far from perfect (which relationship wasn't?), but it was yours, unique and perfect in its imperfect wee way. You cared about each other. Stood by each other through everything, good and bad. Stuck together, hand in hand, against everything the world threw at you.

You told her she was beautiful every single day. Held her as she cried and screamed in the middle of the night, the terrors of that day in May three years back still fresh in her mind. Kissed her good morning and goodnight. Called her cutesy nicknames she rolled her eyes at but secretly loved.

It was a good relationship. The best Rowena had ever had (though, given her history, that wasn't exactly a hard feat).

You hesitated for a moment. Then, reluctantly, "You've been distant lately. For a while now, actually."

"I have?"

"Yeah."

"Surely, you're mistaken."

"Surely, I'm not." Your tone was curt. To the point. No mercy; just the cold, hard truth.

A shiver spilled down Rowena's spine, blood turning to ice. She wasn't distant. Not really. She was just… herself. The way she'd always seen. You'd never complained before. Why was it an issue now?

Okay, so she might have not reciprocated a hug or two, or stood still amidst a kiss. She'd never been the most attentive person, and you knew that. You'd always known that, and hadn't minded it.

What changed? What made today different?

"You don't talk to me anymore," you said, lips quivering. You grit your teeth, steadied yourself.

"Nonsense," Rowena said.

She talked to you. Maybe a little less, but that didn't mean anything. There were things she preferred to keep to herself. Things she was certain you wouldn't — couldn't — understand. There was still so much about her that you didn't know. So many things you couldn't begin to comprehend. Why should she bother you with them? Why should she ruin your days when hers were ruined from the start?

It wasn't like she was ignoring you. She just kept some things to herself. That didn't mean she didn't want to talk to you.

She simply couldn't.

Why couldn't you understand that?

You scoffed at her response. "You've been avoiding me for — I dunno, days? Weeks? I've lost count." It sounded an awful lot like an accusation.

"I have not!" Rowena fired right away, defensive. Angry; at herself for getting into this mess, and at you for pointing it out.

She hadn't been that distant. She hadn't been avoiding you. She had things going on. Things that didn't — that couldn't for she wouldn't allow it — involve you. Why couldn't you understand that? Why did you have to be so hung up over it?

Why did you always have to be so bloody difficult?

You stared at her. It would have been a glare if not for the look of absolute hurt in your eyes. "Don't bullshit me! You keep pulling away from me. We barely even communicate."

"We communicate plenty." It taste like a lie — bitter, sour — before it fully fell from her mouth. She added as you were about to respond, "You know I don't do the touchy-feely thing. You've known that from the start."

She was far from an affectionate person. She loved attention, craved it, reveled in it, but she wasn't big on reciprocating. Physically, yes; she was more than willing to engage in make out sessions and a round of passionate sex. But she wasn't a talker.

There was a time when she shared her feelings openly. When she wore her heart on her sleeve and spilled its secrets freely. Only to end up half dead on a straw mat, with a screaming infant in her arms. Broken. Abandoned. Terrified.

Rowena could feel. She could feel and care and yearn with all her heart. For a long while she thought she couldn't. Then she met you, and things she once considered impossible turned out not to be. She cared about you more than anything, and was more than willing to show it to you in her own ways. It was easy. Caring about you was easy.

Putting it into words, into that one wretched word, though…

She couldn't. Not with everything that had happened, with everything she'd done.

Some things weren't meant to be put into words.

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Tears sprung to your eyes. Slid down your cheeks in bitter rivers. "You're being so cold. I hug you, and it's like you don't even notice. I kiss you and you don't kiss me back. You barely even talk to me!"

"You're being dramatic!" Rowena retorted with a roll of her eyes.

"At least I'm doing something!" you shot back. "At least I'm trying to fix this!"

"Fix what?" Nothing was broken. She'd been a bit silent — so what? There was no need to make a scene out of it. Especially considering you were the one who caused this mess.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" You wiped your face with your sleeve. Breathed in and out, deep and hard. "Do you even care?"

"Of course I bloody care!" Rowena exclaimed, offended at the implication. Why couldn't you understand how difficult this was for her? Why did you have to push her?

"Doesn't look like it." It was an accusation in everything but direct words. "It's like you're doing everything except care."

Frustration burned at her, built up like a geyser about to spring free. She threw her arms out, at an absolute loss of appropriate words. "What do you want me to do?"

If feelings were your thing, you were with the wrong person. Rowena didn't do feelings. She had them and hated herself for it, but she didn't do them. Not out loud.

If you hadn't brought them up — if you hadn't said it, the thing that had been haunting her for two weeks now — none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have been, as you'd said so eloquently, cold. She wouldn't have distanced herself — just a tad, but apparently enough for you to notice.

All you had to do was keep it to yourself. All you had to do was not say it. Really, it was you who'd caused all this. You and your big, stupid mouth.

If you wanted to blame someone, you should have looked in the mirror.

"Maybe tell me what's going on," you said. Pleaded, for if your words didn't, your eyes certainly did. "That would be a good start."

"Nothing is going on," Rowena insisted. Liar! her conscience screamed at her. Liar, liar, liar!

If the truth hurt too much, lies were there to make it better. A classic Rowena MacLeod move.

Old habits died hard.

Unfortunately for her, you knew her all too well to buy it. "Right. I'm making it all up."

Your tone stung. The look in your eyes even more so. Rowena looked away; a cowardly move, and your expression said so right away. Guilt ate away at her like acid, burned her up one little bit at the time. She knew she wasn't being fair. You hadn't done it on purpose, hadn't meant to hurt her. It was, in fact, the very opposite.

She was the one with the problem.

Admitting it didn't make it any easier. It didn't make the fear, the insecurity go away. If anything, it made them worse.

"You've been this way ever since—"

Fear shot through her at the memory. Blood froze in her veins, shivers slithering down her spine like bugs crawling underneath her skin. All colour drained from her face, rosy cheeks fading to white, freckles standing out like stars amidst a bleached sea. "Don't," she cut in. A plea she knew would go unanswered for you were mad — rightfully so — and hurt and you wanted answers right here and now, no more nonsense allowed.

You stared at her, taken aback. For a moment she thought — hoped with everything she had — you would drop it. Then, through a trembling mouth, in a voice barely above a whisper, you finished, "—ever since I told you I love you."

That was right. You did. You told her out of the blue, and suddenly Rowena's entire world was turned upside down and she was that lovestruck young woman again, yearning for something that would never come to be. Wishing for things that were out of her reach, foolishly thinking they were to be hers.

She knew better now.

Things were different this time around. She was older. Smarter. More experienced. She knew you to your core. You weren't him; far from it. You weren't going to betray her.

And, strange as it was, that was what terrified her the most.

When you said you loved her, you meant it. You truly, genuinely meant it. There was no deception. No manipulation. No lies packaged to resemble the truth. Just raw honesty straight from your heart, from the very depths of your soul.

It was terrifying.

Pretending to love her was one thing. Having been used and abused and tossed aside like trash for centuries, she was used to it. She was comfortable with it. Loving her for real? The mere thought sent shivers down her spine.

You knew her better than anyone ever had. You knew every secret, every flaw, every nasty thing she'd ever done, some she'd never forgive herself for. How could you love her? How could anyone love a monster — one she'd chosen to turn into, choosing power over her own child? How could you trust her?

"That's it, right?"you said, a touch of bitterness lacing your words. Tears spilled down your face, and Rowena's heart clenched, hating herself for doing that to you. Wishing she were brave enough to take a step forward and make the hurt go away. "You're mad I said it."

"No, darling," she said. Quite the opposite — she was mad at herself.

"What is it, then? We've been together for four years. I've loved you for four and a half."

Ever since you'd met. Since she'd started teaching you the ways of magic, back when she was still that manipulative, cruel creature whose only use for you was power. You knew that, and still, you'd allowed yourself to care about her. You'd allowed yourself to fall in love.

Rowena knew you were catching feelings, but she'd never imagined it went that far. How could you have been so foolish? Didn't you know how dangerous it was to love her back then?

"I figured it was time I said it," you continued. "Maybe I shouldn't have."

No. You shouldn't have. Because saying it made it real. It made her turmoil, her fears, her insecurities real. She couldn't escape them anymore, couldn't pretend they weren't there.

Couldn't pretend her own heart, black and shriveled, wasn't blooming with the same kind of love she'd convinced herself she wasn't capable of.

"If you don't love me, that's fine." Your voice broke as you spoke, lips trembling, tears drenching your face like a bitter downpour. It wasn't fine. Nothing was fine. "I thought maybe things were different now, but it's okay if they're not. I knew you didn't do that sort of thing even before we got together. I don't wanna pressure you or anything. I just… I wanted you to know I love you. I'm not asking you to love me back. You don't owe me anything."

You swallowed back sobs that threatened to break free. Your knees were shaking, barely holding you upright. Your breathing was hitched, uneven. You were close to falling apart, cracked glass holding itself together by its last remnants of strength. One push — one wee shove — and you would topple over the edge.

"You've got this all wrong, Y/N," Rowena made herself utter. "It's not—you haven't done anything wrong."

It was her. She was the one in the wrong. The one who hated herself and cursed herself out every single day. She'd had many lovers in her lifetime; some better, most horrible. She was used to being taken advantage of, to be cheated on and thrown out like a used, outgrown toy.

She wasn't scared of you cheating on her. You'd never so much as looked at another person, let alone made a move. But just because you weren't interested in others didn't mean your interest in her wouldn't wane.

You'd seen her at her worst. You'd seen her cry her eyes out, and scream in terror in the middle of the night. You'd seen her drool on the pillow some mornings. Had seen the stretch marks littering her thighs and the crater-like pimples that adorned her face and back, reminders that, as powerful a witch as she was, she was still human. You had seen her freckles, the sea of them covering her body from head to toe like bronze stars on a pale sky.

You'd seen all of her, all things human about her. Things she, once upon a time, considered ugly, repulsive, that were nothing compared to the real ugliness that rested inside of her.

"It's me," she said — pleaded with you to understand. Tears prickled at her eyes; she held them back, willing herself to remain composed for if she were to fall apart she could never make this right. You deserved that much. "Don't you see how horrible I am? How bloody ugly I am?"

She'd done horrible things. Things she could never make right again, no matter how much regret bit at her. She'd killed. Hurt. Ruined. Took what she wanted. Destroyed what she didn't. She'd made herself hate and, eventually, abandoned her own child. She tore apart lives without a single care in the world in her endless chase of power.

She couldn't come back from that. She could redeem herself all she wanted; her past would still remain as it was. The people she killed would still be dead. Those she'd hurt would still suffer.

Her son would still be dead, and, wherever he was, hating her.

"You never seemed to notice. You've said from the beginning how beautiful I am, and a part of me was starting to believe you." She allowed a bitter chuckle. "But that doesn't change the ugliness inside me. The ugliness that I have when I'm overly jealous or insecure, or when I can't leave the bed and it hurts to breathe."

You were there for her through it all. You held her hand. Rocked her back and forth to soothe her. Kissed her and smiled at her in spite of everything, and she didn't understand that, and it scared her to no end.

"The ugliness when I scream and screech about how you didn't pick up your towel or forgot to wipe down the table. Again."

Little things. Some might call them insignificant, but when it came to Rowena, everything had meaning. She was a difficult person to be with. She was opinionated and picky. She rolled her eyes at the smallest of things, and threw tantrums like a spoilt brat. She pouted and whined and complained about anything and everything in sight.

She may have stopped killing, but she was far from a saint. She was a flawed, petty, evil creature. The kind of person no one liked, and with good reason. The person who hated herself.

"I'm not bothered by you loving me, Y/N." Because — goodness, it hurt to admit it — she loved you, too. So much. Too much. "I'm scared you're going to start seeing me the way I see myself, and you will realize that it's not worth it."

That she, with all her flaws and imperfections, wasn't worth it.

You stared at her as if you'd seen a ghost. Wide eyed. Startled. At a complete and utter loss of words. A moment, two, three passed in silence, uncomfortable, deafening. Then, tentatively, you uttered, "It is. It's all worth it. I don't regret a thing." Though your voice was low, there was conviction in it. Pure and utter determination.

"I've done horrible things."

"I don't care." And you meant it. Your expression, as firm as your tone, said so.

You may not have cared, but Rowena did. It ate her up inside, every horrible thing she'd done. Every heart broken, every innocent life ruined and taken. It was the price of power, she'd told herself as she'd slowly urged herself not to care. As she'd turned her heart to stone, all love and light sucked out one dark deed at a time. Business, for the world was cruel to her so why should she show it mercy?

She couldn't change what she'd done. Couldn't bring the people she'd killed without a shred of mercy back. Couldn't undo the damage she'd inflicted. But she could — would, for there was no magic in the world she would trade those memories for — remember it. She could learn from it, let it guide her to a different, hopefully less destructive future.

She needed to pay for her misdeeds. Remembering them, letting them play out over and over in her mind like a record stuck on repeat, was her punishment. Actions had consequences, and these were hers.

"I've hurt so many people," she said, and, once again, the self-loathing was back with a vengeance. Not that it had ever left; she'd just learned to mask it, to live with it nagging at her.

"I don't care," you repeated. So bloody sure of your words she, for just a moment, hated you, as well.

How could you move past everything? How could you, despite knowing all about her past, defend her? How could you love her?

"You're my girl. Okay? Mine. I don't care what happened before. You're not that person anymore, Rowena." You took a step forward, then, confident it was okay, took another, and another. Your hands grabbed hers, fingers wrapping around them, tight as knots. Loving. Comforting. "You are beautiful. Inside and out. You can't change what you've done, but you can change yourself. And you have, and you have no idea how amazing that is! You've made so much progress."

Maybe so. But still… "What does it matter? Those people are still dead." Tears sparkled in her eyes, and this time she let them spill. "Fergus is still dead!"

He'd died hating her. In his last moments, he was cursing her name, wishing he weren't her son.

Rowena wished for nothing more than to be his mother again. A second chance she would never get. Magic had done so much for her, and could do so much more, but it couldn't change that. She would never get a chance to make it right.

"If he were here, he's be so proud of you," you told her.

"He would hate me." Her voice broke as the words left her mouth, the truth stinging like a well-aimed slap to the face. "I was a horrible mother to him. I was cruel and selfish. I couldn't give him what he deserved." A small pause to compose herself, then, "I can't give you what you deserve, either."

You deserved stability. Happiness. Peace. None of which she could give you. Your life had become a struggle between life and death ever since she entered it.

Yet you still loved her. You'd still found it in you to give her a chance at a time when everyone had written her off as yet another wicked witch. You saw something in her, and you stayed.

Foolish girl, you were, Rowena thought to herself. You'd risked do much, and for what? A witch who'd, at the time you'd met, considered you nothing but an asset. Who was more than willing to leave you behind if things were to go south. Who took years to develop feelings, and eventually come to love you back.

You truly were foolish.

"You've given me so much more," you said. Your eyes found hers, tearful but determined. Honest to the core. "You've made mistakes — so what? No one's perfect. I'm not a saint, either, Rowena."

Maybe so. But you weren't the kind of sinner she was, either. Not even close.

"You and I — we're fucked up, but we're real." You squeezed her hands in emphasis. "Everything else can go to hell. I love you so much."

Rowena flinched at the words so raw, so real. So unbelievable her heart clenched in her chest as if someone had squeezed it, tore into it with razor-sharp claws.

"I've been wanting to say it for years, but it never seemed like the right time," you said. "I guess I was a bit scared I'd, well, scare you off." A bitter chuckle fell from your mouth. "You don't have to love me back. I don't expect anything in return. Just, please, know that I'll always love you, no matter what. Good or bad, I'm in for it all."

Rowena let out a chuckle of her own. "You're a fool."

You shrugged. "Maybe. I just wanna be with you. If that makes me a fool, so be it."

Complete and utter fool. But… "I suppose I'm a fool, too."

Because she cared about you, as well. Because she couldn't imagine her life without you. Because she l—

She brought your linked hands to her mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. A soft, comforting gesture. A wordless promise that this was real, that she was in it as much as you were. That, no matter how bad things got, she would never, ever leave you. She wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't that cold, manipulative, heartless bitch she'd made herself become. You'd helped her see the world in a different light. Showed her that, as much cruelty as there was, there was also kindness, compassion. Good she'd convinced herself was a farce, that was, as it turned out, very, very real.

"I…" Her throat constricted, words stuck behind an impenetrable wall. She sucked in a breath. "Y/N, I…"

Images flashed in her mind. The bright smiling face of a man. Kisses in forest, far away from prying eyes. His hands on her thighs. His mouth by her ear, whispering sweetness that made her knees weak. The promise of life, of a happy, happy future. A straw mat. Blood on her thighs. A screaming, blood-coated infant in her arms. The retreating back of a man, slowly fading until he was nothing but a figure in the distance.

"I love you," she'd said so many centuries ago, so many times.

"I love you, too, my dove" he'd said back. A liar. A fraud.

And now he was gone. He was long gone, hopefully rotting in Hell.

And you… you were here. Unlike him, you did love her. You didn't just say it — you showed it with actions, with kisses and hugs and endless support.

You wouldn't leave her. Wouldn't take advantage of her and throw her out like trash once you were done. You were loyal, and genuine, and kind beyond belief. Kinder than she'd ever deserved.

You weren't him. You would never be him.

You were Y/N. And, as much as it hurt to admit it, even to herself, she loved you.

"I love you, too."

The words tasted strange on her mouth. Her heart pounded loudly, blood whooshing through her veins. Her hands and knees were shaking; she felt like she would lose her balance any moment now, last remnants of strength keeping her — barely — on her feet.

A smile bloomed on your mouth, big and bright and happy. You cupped her cheek; she flinched, frightened, then, slowly, leaned into your touch that was love and comfort all in one.

"It's okay," you said softly. "Don't be scared."

"I'm not—" Och, who was she trying to fool? She was scared. She was terrified for the last time those words left her mouth, she was abandoned as if she were nothing. "Y/N…"

"I know," you said, nodding with understanding. "I know. It's okay. I'm here. I'll always be here. I'll always love you. Like I said, you're my girl. That's forever."

Rowena allowed a smile, a small one. "And you're my wee lass."

"Wee?"

"Aye."

You snorted. "If you say so."

"Mean," she said, feigning offense.

She missed this. The joyful teasing. The light-hearted banter. The intimacy only she and you shared.

She missed you.

She leaned forwards, and her mouth fell on yours, capturing it. You melted into the kiss. It started slow, and then she deepened it, and you were both locked in, high on each other, caught in the wordless promise of safety, of love and devotion and eternity.

Together.

No matter what happened, what kind of hardships befell you, you would have each other. Nothing was ever going to tear you apart. Not death. Not fear. Not centuries-old insecurities.

The two of you, with all your flaws and imperfections, were forever.

Against all odds.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @rowenaslilwitch @midnight-lestrange

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn family #spn #supernatural #rowena x reader #my fics #fanfiction #angst #feels

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hetacon · 5 years ago

Text

A Fighting Chance

Word Count: 1,926

Pairing: Prinxiety

Warning: Bullying, homophobia, use of the words fag, pussy, and pansy, mentions of porn, sexual jokes, panic attack, vomit, swearing, and kissing

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Summary: It’s not that Roman Prince wouldn’t help his friends in any given situation, it’s just that he’d rather do something more drastic than seek out adult interference. Oh no, he’d definitely much rather intervene himself.

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Virgil Knight had panic attacks, that was a given fact that all of his friends were aware of.

Roman Prince, however, was going to be experiencing one for the first time and to put it lightly, he was livid.

Never with Virgil, Virgil hadn’t done anything wrong in the slightest.

It was these guys mocking him. For some reason or another, these assholes thought it was ok to make Virgil’s life a living Hell. Virgil had always been the quiet sort, refusing to be particularly bothersome, and while he was rough around the edges with some sass to boot, he was kind and sweet. This was exactly why he wasn’t fighting back as he and Roman were bothered by the group.

“Whatcha drawin’ there, Virgey?”

Virgil refused to look up to the taunting.

“Whatcha think he’s drawing, guys?” the guy asked his friends.

“Probably gay porn, you draw any gay porn, Virgey?” another one of them piped up, laughing. At the suggestion, Virgil turned bright red.

Roman really wished Logan and Patton were here right now, they’d be better equipped with helping in this situation. Not that he wouldn’t help Virgil, it was just the fact that he’d rather sporadically climb over the table and deck them rather than go get one of the campus supervisors. That would require leaving Virgil alone as well and that was definitely not an option.

God how Roman hated high school.

“Hey hey, how about you draw me next?”

“No thank you,” Virgil muttered, Roman noticing the tension leave Virgil’s body as he scooted closer.

“What was that? You gotta speak up, buddy!” one of them teased Virgil as if he was a shy child.

“I’m not a kid and I said no thank you. I can choose what to draw and what I want to draw is definitely not a group of guys making fun of me for my art.”

Roman finally sighed. “Look, can you just leave us alone? We’re not bothering you,” he deadpanned, looking to them, his arm wrapped protectively around Virgil’s shoulder. He felt a little better as Virgil slightly leaned into the touch, continuing to work on his sketch of Patton.

“Fine, whatever assholes. Watch your backs,” the supposed ringleader of the group spat out, the rest of the boys following after him.

“You know, they’re kinda shrimpy,”

“Don’t go sucking any of their dicks then, you’re allergic to shellfish,” Virgil said with a slight smirk, glancing over in wistful amazement as Roman started to laugh heartily.

Eventually the bell had rung and they each went off to separate classes for 6th period. Luckily it was the last period of the day for the two of them and for Roman, it went by fairly quickly.

Virgil, unbeknownst to him at the time, couldn’t get his mind off of the interaction though. He was on the verge of a panic attack by the time they both got to their free period, time they’d always spend together in the art classroom.

Roman was mostly unaware of everything as Virgil slipped his headphones on and got to work painting.

They were just both working on projects and Roman was in his own little world. Today was going to be a quiet day for them. That was alright with him, Roman thought as he looked over his sketch.

Virgil was running out the door.

With immediate panic clouding his mind, Roman followed after him into one of the bathrooms, just in time to see Virgil collapse into a stall and puke.

Roman went over and knelt down behind Virgil, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You ok there, Vee?” he asked, holding Virgil’s bangs back the best he could.

That’s when he finally heard the hyperventilating before Virgil was throwing up into the toilet again. The breaths were shaky and Roman was worried. He knew Virgil was going through a panic attack now but he’d never helped or even seen Virgil go through one, he didn’t know a single thing to do. What would work...? Talking? Talking might work.

“Virgil, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing right now but know I’m not going to leave you like this right now, ok..? I know you’d probably prefer Patton or Logan but I’m your friend and I know I’m the only one here today who can help,” he said, rubbing Virgil’s back softly. “So if it’s ok, I’d like to stay until you calm down. After that, I can leave if you need space but for now, I’m here. Is that alright?”

He noticed a slight nod as Virgil shut his eyes tightly.

“Good, alright.. Uh...”

‘Think think think, Roman! What did Logan tell you about Virgil’s panic attacks? God, I really do need to listen to him more. Why is he always right about these types of things?’ Roman thought to himself, cursing Logan for being the smarter one of them once again. He really hated it when Logan was right.

“Oh!” he shouted but apologized when Virgil flinched, his breathing growing more sporadic. “Sorry sorry, it’s alright. Can you uh.. Can you breathe in for 4 seconds with me? That’s what Logan and Patton do with you, right?”

Virgil reached over and placed his hand to Roman’s chest, taking Roman’s hand with his other out of instinct. Roman watched the action with astonishment at the trust Virgil was giving him in the situation but remembered he had a job to do, breathing in for four seconds.

“Hold for 7.”

Holding.

“Out for 8,” he finished, letting out his breath slowly for Virgil to copy.

Roman kept doing it with Virgil until his breathing had evened out and Virgil grimaced at the taste in his mouth.

“Throwing up is awful,” Virgil muttered dryly, smiling just a little when Roman laughed.

“I’d imagine not,” Roman replied, helping Virgil get cleaned up. “Are you ok to get up?”

“Yeah, yeah I should be fine.”

Roman nodded and offered his hand to Virgil. “Here we go!” he said, pulling Virgil to stand up.

Virgil let out a sigh, leaning his head on Roman’s shoulder. “Man, do I not like those,” he huffed out in a breathy laugh.

“You can’t help it, all you can do is work with what you’ve got, Cousin Fit,” Roman laughed out.

With that, they started heading back to the art room.

“I really don’t want to keep working..” Virgil sighed, leaning into Roman, hugging his arm.

“Which is why I’m going to be your knight in shining armor today and take you out for lunch. Pack up your stuff and we’ll head out ok?”

Virgil nodded.

“Thank you, Roman.”

Roman smiled down at Virgil’s head on his shoulder.

“Anything for you,” he hummed out gently.

A slam against the locker next to Roman’s earned a sigh from the aforementioned. He could only imagine what was going to come next as he shut his locker, clicking the lock shut. And as he started to walk away...

“How’s our Virgin’s little boyfriend doing today?” one of their voices mocked.

He tried to pay them no mind, spotting Patton coming his way. He waved as he started walking towards Patton.

“Wow boys, Virgin’s picked himself a gay little pansy! Can’t even handle us teasing him,” Roman heard from behind him. “Go get your boyfriend to protect you like the pussy you are!”

“Ok, first of all-!” Roman shouted, whipping around to face them. “There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with being gay! I am a human being just like everyone else! My sexuality is no business of yours if I don’t make it your business! I certainly wouldn’t want to date the likes of you so don’t even worry about me coming on to you!”

“Roman, think about what you’re doing-“ Patton tried to say from behind him, only to be ignored as Roman continued to yell.

“Secondly, he’s not my boyfriend but someone as wonderful and caring and strong-willed as Virgil would be a catch for anyone who he deems worthy of his affections. He has more compassion and understanding than all of you assholes combined and I will do anything in my power to make sure he is safe and loved. It would be an absolute honor and fucking privilege to date him and I would do so in a heartbeat if he wanted me!”

“You would?” Roman suddenly heard behind him, turning to see Virgil who was flushed pink. Roman felt his heart melt at the soft, innocent little expression on his friend’s face and he felt his face grow hot but he smiled brightly.

“Absolutely,” he murmured out with all the love he could muster up to his voice.

“You know, from a certain angle these fags could be kinda cute together-“

Roman threw a full force uppercut into the leader’s jaw and he was sent sprawling back into the rest of his friends.

“Oh you are so gonna pay for that!”

In an instant, Roman was circled by the 5 boys and he barely heard Virgil’s frantic and desperate shouting over the commotion. Everything had gone red in an instant and all he was thinking about was fighting them off for insulting Virgil. They weren’t getting away with anything, not this time.

“Ow,” Roman hissed as Virgil put some disinfectant on a cut on his cheek.

“That’s what you get for getting into a fight like that you absolute moron,” Virgil huffed, wiping away some more of the blood.

“They were asking for it,” Roman pouted, only to hiss as Virgil pressed a little too hard on one of them.

“Crap, sorry.”

“It’s ok, Vee.”

Virgil continued to patch him up, making sure to handle Roman gently.

“Did you mean it back there?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you in a better set of circumstances,” Roman laughed. “But I’m glad you know, even if you don’t feel that way about me. You don’t have to.”

Roman grabbed a hold of Virgil’s hands, causing him to look up at Roman who only smiled and leaned over, kissing his forehead.

Virgil let a small smile grace his lips, closing his eyes. “Would you like the, how’d you so eloquently put it, ‘absolute honor and fucking privilege’ of dating me?” he teased Roman, smirking up at him as he opened his eyes.

With a laugh, Roman nodded. “Very much,” he answered before Virgil’s lips were on his. Roman kissed back, cupping Virgil’s cheeks in his hands as Virgil’s arms wrapped around his waist. Roman gently deepened the kiss before pulling away.

“If this is what happens when I get hurt, maybe I should get into fights more often,” Roman hummed.

“Absolutely not, you ass!” Virgil shouted, playfully hitting him.

“Ow, I’ve been wounded!” Roman gasped dramatically, falling back into his bed, sticking his tongue out to play dead.

“Oh my god, c’mere,” Virgil said, trying to contain his laughter as he leaned over, planting his lips to Roman’s again.

Those assholes would probably still be back to mock Roman but at least they’d be leaving Virgil alone. Roman could certainly defend himself if it meant getting to kiss Virgil like this all the time.

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Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this story! If you would like to send me some comments on the story, feel free to do so, I love hearing what everyone thinks! Stay safe, be awesome, I love you guys!

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Taglist: @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @ambersky0319

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #stan writing

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philologer-mosaic · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Fellow writer here! I was curious as to how you learn to write characters and /keep/ them in character without it being overly stereotypical or stiff? I've read your work and I'd love to learn from you ;^;

Hi! Glad to meet you, and wow, I am so flattered to be asked this. Happy to help out a fellow writer, and I’m always down for rambling about writing-related stuff! I’m not sure how helpful some of this will turn out to be, but here goes.

I’m not sure if you’re asking about characterisation in general including crafting OCs or specifically about writing canon characters, and a lot of this advice will be relevant to both, but I will say this straight off: I’ve seen a fair amount of quibbling about how fanfiction won’t teach you how to worldbuild and maybe that’s true, but there is nothing like writing fanfiction for teaching yourself how to craft character voices. Especially when your source material is a movie/ TV show/ whatever definition RWBY falls under. So: rewatch! Pay attention to all the little details. What turns of phrase do they use? How do they stand, how do they move? What’s their usual emotional range? Pick a line they speak, think about what descriptors you’d use to get across their tone of voice or their emotional state if you were writing the scene in a fic. When you’re writing new dialogue for them, try to hear it in the actor’s voice (if that’s a way your imagination works; some people don’t have great auditory imaginations. Mine can be kind of hit and miss!).

Rest of this advice is going under a cut, because this got looong!

With canon characters: start from what you know, then extrapolate. Especially with characters we don’t see all that much of, boil them down to a handful of personality traits/ ways-they-present-themself first, then consider what might underly them. And in reverse: take the things we know about their status and backstory, consider what that implies about them as a person.

So, Clover: I think I boiled him down to ‘confident, friendly, professional’, and what’s underlying ‘confidence’ is really obviously his semblance: he’s never had to hesitate about anything, he always knows he can rely on himself. So in his internal monologue, he’s not going to second-guess his decisions. He calls Qrow out on deflecting compliments, so he’s good at reading people and also wants to help them; I assume that applies more broadly than just to Qrow. He’s leader of Ironwood’s flagship team of Specialists, and semblance or not I made the assumption he didn’t get there without working for it [that is an assumption, though! People less inclined to think well of Clover will make a different assumption, in-universe as well as out, and how he responds to that is also something to consider], so he’s got to be smart, dedicated, a good tactician, a good leader. And building from that: he’s smart and perceptive but we know he’s also loyal to the bitter end (very bitter); what sort of personality can we project that reconciles those two, what sort of person would respond like that? What I went with is that he trusts the system because he understands enough pieces of how/why it works that he trusts the bits he doesn’t understand are also created with the best interests of the people at heart. (Even when that’s really not true.) So then that’s a consistent philosophy-like thing that underlies a lot of how I write him: he understands the reasons for a lot of why things are how they are and then assumes the best of all the rest.

– This looks like a lot, now I’ve written it out. I thought all this out while working on the early chapters but I never put it some of it into words really. In coming up with the plot or story idea you’ll have made plenty of these assumptions and extrapolations already. Take a second look at them; take them further, find places to link them together or pit them against each other.

And remember, these are your interpretations. There’s not a right or wrong way to flesh these out. Work with semi-canon stuff like the mangas or discard it as you wish; follow fanon or argue with it or throw it out entirely. I interpreted Yang as ‘normal outgoing teenage girl in a non-homophobic world’ and wrote her as having dated people from Signal before she got to Beacon; the other day I came across a tumblr post interpreting her as “a rural lesbian”, by which standard she definitely didn’t have any romantic experience before canon; they’re both entirely plausible takes! Where we don’t know stuff for sure, slot in whatever your story needs, or whatever you think seems interesting. I settled on Clover’s backstory for Soldier, Spy mostly by going ‘ok, what’s an interesting way to contrast him with Qrow?’ And in some of my other fic ideas, he’s different.

Limited third person perspective (or first person, if you can pull if off) is the best for dropping in characterisation smoothly. Though I’m probably biased because I love it so much. Omniscient third person POV is when the narration’s impartial and uninvolved, and skips between person A’s thoughts and person B’s thoughts and pure description of what’s happening, objectively speaking; limited third person is – when the camera’s always over one person’s shoulder in a given scene. It’s less close in than first person, but we get the POV character’s thoughts and no others, we only see/notice what they notice and pay attention to, descriptions are coloured by the way the POV character thinks about the world. I don’t want to be setting you homework, but, a neat writing exercise, if you want it: pick an object, place or person, and consider how two different characters would see it differently. Write those two descriptions. For fun, pick something that at least one of the characters is going to really look down on or dislike parts of! (Qrow’s snark is so much fun.)

This is cynical, but: people lie to themselves a lot. When you put yourself into a character’s head, they’re going to be telling themself a narrative in which what they’re doing is the best thing to do and makes them a good person. (With a few exceptions, the big ones being depression- and anxiety-brain, which instead do their best to convince you you’re the worst.) Get your characters to justify themselves to you.

Goals, motivations, priorities. It feels like a massive oversight to write about how to characters and leave that one out, but honestly I can’t think of anything I can say here that hasn’t been covered better by tons of other writing advice. [Incidentally: https://www.writersdigest.com/ . Subscribe to their email newsletter, it’s free, they will try to get you to buy their how-to courses but there’s no need to, the website has all kinds of articles about the craft and details of writing and the newsletter will send you all the new ones plus curated picks of what’s already there. And also: https://springhole.net/writing/index.html . There’s some stuff specific to fanfic in there, and also general writing advice.] Just: keep it in mind.

Related to that, but a separate thing and one that I haven’t seen other writing advice talk about so much: how does the character try to achieve their goals? What are their skills and resources? And more than that, what’s their preferred approach? In the simplest terms. It’s a matter of mindset, and what options they see as available to them. So the things I would keep in mind for this are: Who’s got social skills/ is good at thinking in social terms, and who isn’t/doesn’t? (Not just interpersonally speaking. James “not really concerned about my reputation” Ironwood is a good example of a character who always thinks in terms of hard power over soft power; even when public opinion is an important strategic consideration he only thinks about it in the broadest and most simplified strokes.) Who would rather work within the system, and who prefers to do an end-run around it? (That doesn’t have to correlate with who’s actually got power, though obviously there are trends. I’m writing Clover as tending to take charge even when he officially shouldn’t because he’s more concerned with solving the problem than with rank, and that’s a case of circumventing the system, it’s one of the things he’s got in common with Qrow.) Who’s more analytical about their approach and what they’re trying to do (which means their failure mode is overthinking and decision paralysis) and who reacts with their gut instinct (which means their failure mode is getting in over their head)?

… I could talk about this one at length. There’s a whole framework I use to categorise characters in this way (I came across it in, of all things, the flavourtext of a supplement to an RPG no one’s ever heard of and it just stuck with me, and I’ve made it my own in the years since) and I could go into all sorts of detail about how it works/ what it means. But I think this is enough to be getting on with, on that topic. If you want to know more, send me another ask? But no one else talks about this thing in writing advice, it might be completely orthogonal to the writing process of anyone but me.

So! Related to the topic of characters’ skillsets, a really great tip I can’t remember where I picked up: how do you write someone who’s smarter/wittier/better at tactics than you? Spend minutes or hours turning something over in your head that the character is going to come up with in seconds. The great advantage of writing: it’s so much easier to be eloquent when you’ve got time to think. [If you had asked me this question in person you would have got ‘i don’t know?’ and then half an hour later I would have thought of half of this stuff and kicked myself. A week and change later, you’re getting the other half too :p ]

And lastly: you said you were worried about your writing getting “overly stereotypical”. And my immediate response to that was stereotypes bad, yes, but archetypes great. The difference being: stereotypes are lazy and offensive writing that let ‘membership of a social category’ stand in for ‘actual characterisation’ and if you’re asking for advice on characterisation you’re obviously too thoughtful to commit them; archetypes are pre-made sketched-out personalities that you can take as your own and flesh out into your own thing. Tropes are tools. No one ever said ‘They were roommates? Ugh, how unoriginal’. By the same token, ‘lone wolf who pretends he’s fine and doesn’t dare trust anyone no matter how much he secretly wants to’ is a fantastic trope that exists for good reason, the CRWBY used it for good reason, and when we found out Qrow’s semblance I went yes please I will have some of all that angst and then laughed at myself because when it comes to fictional characters I have A Type. I’m pretty sure I’ve never written the exact scenario ‘pushes themself way too hard and passes out, wakes up in unexpected safety and immediately condemns themself for not sticking it out longer’ before the opening of Soldier, Spy, but I know I’ve come up with plenty of things that were like it, and if they’d made it to a state of publication you’d be able to see that.

It’s like artists using references. Just because they looked up how to draw that hand and that pose doesn’t mean the final product’s not their own. There’s no reason not to start with your ideas of the character (no matter how ‘stereotypical’ they feel) or a collection of traits you’ve grabbed from other characters that seem like they’d fit – or, for OCs, an MBTI type or a roleplaying class/background combo or one of these or some other personality type you feel like you can find your way around the basics of – and just take it from there. When you start writing/outlining/daydreaming-about-ideas you’ll run into scenarios/setups you can’t copy across from but you can see what responses might come up, and that’s how the template becomes your own unique iteration of it.

… Because really all writing advice does come down to: just write. In your head or on the page, try things out, see what works, see how it goes. I’ve been doing this a long time; most of it never made it to words on a page, let alone to the internet at large. Read across genres, read things people write about themselves and how they live and think and feel, and just – go for it.

I hope this helps! Once again, I was really glad to be asked; feel free to ask me to elaborate on any of this, or about anything else you want advice about. I wish you all the best in your future writing!

#writing #my thoughts #posting into a void

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duhragonball · 5 years ago

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Dragon Ball Z 265

Last time, Majin Buu got his ass kicked by Gohan, so he blew himself up and came back an hour later.... to challenge Gotenks instead. No one knows why he would want to do this, but Goten and Trunks insist on taking him on, and Gohan doesn’t seem very firm about stopping them.

Meanwhile, some flesh off of Buu’s back has sloughed off and is slithering around among all the rocks, but that probably doesn’t mean anything...

So there’s a few things at play here. First of all, no one gives Buu any credit for intelligence. He’s demonstrated on more than one occasion that he’s smarter than he lets on. The problem is that the characters who know that aren’t around to warn the boys. Babidi got killed, and Goku’s stuck in Otherworld. The Supreme Kai’s been warning anyone who will listen not to underestimate Buu, but no one’s ever listened to him on this point.

Of course, Goten and Trunks’ immaturity plays into this as well. They take Buu’s challenge at face value, and wonder why he’d ask for something so stupid. It never occurs to them that maybe he’s asking to fight Gotenks precisely because it isn’t stupid at all, so maybe they shouldn’t play into his hands like this.

What’s really dumb about this is that Buu made it pretty clear in the last episode that he was never in any real danger of losing his last battle with Gotenks. He only kept fighting so he’d have something to do while he waited for Gohan to show up. Gotenks knows this, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Finally, and most crucially, why is Gohan just standing around letting this unfold. He knows it’s risky to let Gotenks fight instead, but when they complain, he just yields the floor and lets them fight in his place. What was the point of getting that power up from the Old Kai if he wasn’t going to deal with Buu himself? Why isn’t he attacking Buu right now, instead of standing there like a dope waiting for Buu to make his move?

It’s inexperience, pure and simple. Gohan dominated Buu in their last encounter, and he probably figures that there’s no harm in letting Gotenks go first. If the kid loses, Gohan can step in to help, right?

I’d ask why Piccolo doesn’t object to any of this, but he had a nervous breakdown three or four episodes ago, so who can blame the guy? The only one who does suspect something’s up is Bee. I guess he can smell deception in the air? Anyway, no one listens to him because he’s a dog.

So he has to run towards the fight and show them what he’s seen, but by then it’s too late.

Suddenly, the pieces of Buu’s body jump on Piccolo and Gotenks and envelop them...

Then they recombine with Buu, apparently infusing Piccolo and Gotenks into his body somehow.

Look, I don’t want to be too hard on Gohan, but this is EXACTLY HOW CELL TRICKED HIM SEVEN YEARS AGO. Gohan was stronger than Cell, and he could beat him senseless without even trying, and then Cell revealed that he had a power Gohan couldn’t stop with punching. Yeah, Gohan had no idea he could do this, but why did he let Buu live long enough to demonstrate this kind of ability. In theory, he has the power to kill Buu with a single Kamehameha. If he doesn’t, then there was no point in sending him down here, but if he does, then he should have just done that two episodes back.

Incidentally, why didn’t the Supreme Kai tell anyone about this? We haven’t gotten to that episode yet, but later, he’ll explain how he’s seen Buu absorb people before, so it seems kind of odd that he didn’t anticipate this, or warn Gohan about it.

When the process is complete, Buu has Gotenks’s Fusion vest, a longer tentacle, and a nose. Also, he talks more eloquently. This form is sometimes referred to as “Super Buu 2″. I think I’ve seen “Buutenks” used before, but that sounds kind of dumb.

Buu declares himself to be the “Mightiest Majin”, which is a line I’ve never understood. Throughout this story, characters have referred to him as a “Majin”, as if he were one of a group of other Majin, and I’m pretty sure it’s just a word Toriyama made up for this story. It’s supposed to be a portmanteau of “ma”, the Japanese word for “evil” and “djinn”, or “genie”. Are there other Majins? Does Buu know of any besides himself? Wasn’t he already stronger than any of them to begin with?

Anyway, this whole development reveals a crucial flaw in any anti-Buu strategy. As powerful as Majin Buu is, it’s not enough to just match him in strength. If he runs into anyone strong enough to defeat him, he’ll just absorb that guy, or however many other guys he need to in order to stay on top. It almost feels like this is some overriding aspect of Buu’s nature, like Bibidi programmed this into him.

So why didn’t Buu just absorb Gohan, since he’s the strongest one. Ah, but Buu wanted to have someone to fight once he increased his power. There’s an element of risk to this plan, because Buu’s power-up is mostly contributed by Gotenks, and the fusion will expire soon. That’s why Buu waited an hour before coming back to pull this stunt. He didn’t want to absorb Gotenks back in Episode 262, because he didn’t know how much longer they would last. This way, he got them right after they fused, so he has the full time at his disposal, however short it is.

Even so, he has to beat Gohan before that time runs out. It probably would have been smarter to just absorb Gohan, but Buu loves a good fight too much to pass this up. Besides, he can always absorb Gohan later.

Seriously, why did anyone think Toriyama was going to make Gohan the main character? More to the point, why did anyone want Gohan to become the main character?

Let me back up and explain that for anyone who didn’t know about the story. Years ago, there was this legend that Toriyama planned to make Gohan the protagonist of the Buu arc, but fans in Japan sent him death threats or something, demanding that he bring Goku back, so he changed the ending. Kanzenshuu.com has a pretty thorough article debunking this rumor, but the quick version is that Toriyama did plan on Gohan taking the lead, then changed his mind at some point, because he felt Gohan wasn’t suited for the role.

I’m pretty sure the rumor only got started because of wishful thinking and changed premises. There was a time, however brief, where Toriyama made it clear that he was making Gohan inherit the role from Goku. And then Goku came back anyway. The simplest explanation is that he changed his mind, but I think fans have trouble accepting the possibility of authors calling an audible in the middle of a story. They like to imagine that the story exists fully-formed in the creator’s mind, and any inconsistencies or changes are due to outside influences. When Gohan got sidelined from the Buu Saga, it was easier for fans to believe that there was some sort of conspiracy at work. Either Toriyama’s editor made him change it, or Toei pressured him to bring the more marketable Goku back, or misguided Japanese fans coerced him into rewriting the story.

My take on this is that the situation looks pretty obvious when you watch the show. Maybe I shouldn’t say “obvious”, because when I first watched the Buu Saga, I kept obsessively checking Funimation.com’s episode list to see what would happen in upcoming installments, and I knew that Goku and Vegeta would somehow return, use fusion, and fight Buu themselves. And that was the main event, as far as I was concerned. For my money, the whole point of this fusion business was to see Goku and Vegeta use it, so what do we need Gohan for?

But besides that, what exactly is the alternate scenario here if Gohan remained the protagonist? Presumably, we’d get this far, I would think. Gohan is too much for Super Buu, so he absorbs Piccolo and Gotenks to give our hero a greater challenge. And it’s not an impossible task. If Gohan can hold out until Gotenks’ fusion expires, he’ll have the advantage again.

But then what? Do Goku and Vegeta come back to help him anyway? Does Gohan journey into Buu’s body to rescue his pals, or does he just kill Super Buu and wait four months on an empty planet to wish everyone back to life? Does Kid Buu ever factor into any of this?

These aren’t insignificant questions. I get the impression that anyone who believes that Toriyama changed the story because of fan pressure or editorial pressure or whatever, they believe this because they’re huge Gohan fans who resent him getting a raw deal. Or they just don’t care for the Buu Saga in general, and they like the idea that there’s a better version floating around in Toriyama’s brain, or maybe even scribbled into a notebook. Basically, they’re just rejecting this story, the one we got, and they’re clinging to a potentially better story that probably doesn’t exist.

But I think that’s unfair. It’s easy to say that an imaginary comic is better than the one that saw print. It’s completely safe from criticism, because no one can read it, and no one can say for certain what is and isn’t in it. So my question to the Gohan-truthers is: What was supposed to have happened instead? How does Gohan being in the lead and beating Buu improve anything? Because the way I see it, the story we got kicks ass.

This part of it? Not so much. This is just Super Buu dominating Gohan for three episodes. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except that we’ve been getting a steady diet of Majin Buu steamrolling everyone this whole time. Hell, this isn’t even the first time he’s beaten Gohan. It’s just taking a little longer tis time, that’s all.

What does work is that this new development only adds to the burden on Goku’s conscience. He was the one who insisted on staying dead, that he was the one putting the Earth in harm’s way, and that Gohan could protect the world better than he ever could. He was the one who taught the boys the fusion technique, and assured his wife that they would be more than powerful enough to stop Buu and save the world. And none of it is working.

For me, that’s the most compelling thing about this leg of the story. There was a period where, yeah, it looked like Goku was going to stay dead, by choice, and for keeps this time. And everyone was comfortable that he was making the right decision. But this arc is revealing that Goku was wrong. He never should have left, and the world now suffers for his mistake.

That’s a sort of pathos that Gohan just can’t grasp. He’s a good character and maybe you could make him the protagonist of some other story, but he’ll never be quite as compelling as his father. These are fictional characters, after all. Gohan can’t just inherit his father’s qualifications as a heroic archetype. Goku’s an alien refugee who grew up in the woods. He’s an outsider to everyone, and somehow he keeps making miracles happen. He has friends and family, but he never quite feels like he belongs. He has a restlessness to him, and a profound modesty. That’s why he was so sure that staying dead and trusting his sons to carry on in his stead was the right call. He just blithely assumed others could do the things he did. But he’s lightning in a bottle. The Legendary Super Saiyan. Others can learn to imitate his powers, or even surpass him in strength, but that still doesn’t change the fact that there’s something special about him.

Let me blow your mind with a crackpot theory of my own. I think Toriyama changed his mind about making Gohan the main character pretty early on. A lot earlier than people may think. Goku died in Episode 188, but he continued to appear in the show all the way up to Episode 199. And then... he returned in Episode 205, to tell Gohan that he would return to Earth for the tournament. From there on, the whole story revolved around Goku. Everyone wanted to see Goku again, and even though Gohan was still in the lead role for a few more episodes, all he was interested in was hanging out with his dad.

To put this in terms of the manga, Gohan’s first chapter as the main character was #421, published on May 11, 1993. The chapter where Goku announced his return was #426, published on June 15, 1993. Goku’s actual return to the comics happened in Chapter 430, published July 13, 1993. From there, he remained a fixture in the manga until it concluded two years later.

My point here is that Goku never really went away. He was absent from the Namek Saga longer than he was absent from the post-Cell Games era. In-universe, yes, he’d been dead for seven years, but for us, the audience, we basically flashed forward right up to the point where he returns. My suspicion is that Toriyama tried telling new stories with Gohan and Videl in Satan City, got frustrated with it, and decided to bring back Goku after about a month. But fans who took Gohan-as-protagonist as a guarentee, they assumed that Goku was returning as a supporting character, and he would eventually leave and let Gohan have the reins again. When that didn’t happen, they assumed foul play.

Anyway, Super Buu is clobbering Gohan at will. If Goku doesn’t save him, who will? Tien? Pfft, yeah right, like Tien’s gonna... oh, wait.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #fusion saga #gohan #goku #majin buu #goten #trunks #gotenks #mr satan #dende #bee #supreme kai #kibito #elder kai

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polar-stars · 5 years ago

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ShigeChi ❣️💔💘💗💞🖤 💋💜

❣️ When did your OC first realise they were in love? How did they react to the realisation?

That would include massive spoilers on future arcs, so I can’t get into that ;w;

💔 Has your OC had a bad breakup or nasty ex? If so does this have any affect on their current relationship?

Both of them weren’t in a relationship to begin with

💘 What do they love most about their partner(s)? What do their partner(s) love most about them?

Chieko’s favorite quality of Shigeo’s is his intelligence. We’ll get into this in a bit more detail later on, but part of it is, that Chieko did take a note of the fact that Shigeo is someone she can have an intelligent discussion with from a very early point on. And she just can’t help but feel drawn to that. Shigeo is someone who is actually capable of challenging her in that regard at some times and it does spark great interest and fascination in her.

Shigeo also greatly appreciates Chieko’s intellect and the fact that she’s someone he can have an actually interesting conversation with. It’s her intelligence paired with her hidden bravery that made her interesting in his eyes from day one on. You see, Shigeo is someone who is dreaded, but then there’s this little girl with not much power backing her up but who’s still unafraid of mouthing off against him…..and….he likes that? Shigeo is used to half of the world following his commands as well as getting whatever he wishes for, so Chieko is a challenge to him. And he enjoys said challenge. At the same time, he genuinely appreciates that she clearly has a spine, even though many refuse to see it, and he actually does want to see her go to greater heights.

(this was hard to explain, I hope it made sense //lies down)

💗 Describe your OC’s partner(s) from their point of view! What do they really think about them?

omg more POVs

Chieko from Shigeo’s POV

Marui’s brows furrowed, as the green fires in her eyes flared dangerously and warningly up one last time. Then she let out one of her typical huffs and walked past me. I couldn’t help but watch her stomp away, almost like she was some noble lady who felt insulted of being talked to by a guy from the streets. Which in actuality couldn’t be further from the truth. But that was part of what made Marui so, well, interesting. She was smart. Very smart. Much smarter than practically everyone in that idiot-gathering that was my own generation. So many easily-persuaded morons walked the surface of earth nowadays. They were easy to manipulate and of course I took advantage of that. Marui wasn’t one of them. She was someone who was actually capable of disagreeing with me on an argument and laying out the reasons on why I was wrong in her eyes. She wasn’t imitated by my surname or the power in my hand, but would only lift her chin upwards while eying me with those fires in her eyes. She had…so much potential and I couldn’t help but to be intrigued. So little people were as interesting as her and I would love to see her potential in full bloom. And so I only chuckled as she took the turn, her head still high up in the air. I look forward to our next interaction.

Shigeo from Chieko’s POV

I don’t need a diploma to know that Shigeo-senpai was not a good person. “Morals” was not exactly part of his personal dictionary and he took an actual excitement in his evil schemes and strolling through the school with everyone in his radius backing away in fear. He was ruthless, cruel and rude. And this is where the story should be over. But for some reason it wasn’t. I gave my best efforts in attempting to avoid him, but still he managed to find me occasionally and whenever he did, he was always so….smooth, polite and…… gallant. I hated how no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, my legs would occasionally turn to jelly when his sharp eyes fixated me and the blood would occasionally rush into my head when his sweet compliments reached my ears. Focus! He’s a gambler, a dealmaker, a spoiled princeling who was never denied anything in his life. He was capable to tell lies to casually and sweetly, like one would greet their loved one. He was not one to be trusted and I should be smarter than feeling charmed by his sweet nothings. But one part of me just couldn’t help but to be flattered when hearing his praise about things that anyone else in my life fails to notice. It was not fair! Why couldn’t he just be plain terrible? Why did he additionally had to be so eloquent? So witty? So attentive? So clever? So…handsome? Wait what? No I am not attracted to Eizan Shigeo, Head of Totsuki’s little Mini-Mafia and destroyer of dreams and happiness. No way!

💞 What do their respective families think of their relationship?

Oho~ I appreciate this ask, because I don’t think I ever talked about that

Okay so, Nene is actually supportive of this idea. Not instantly, but she will grow supportive rather quickly. From what she’s seen of Chieko so far, she came across as well-behaved, intelligent and decent, even reminding Nene a little bit of herself in her younger days occasionally with those round glasses of hers, innocence and tendency to hang around with three guys who can be rather idiotic at times. Nene worries about Shigeo a lot (because of BackstoryTM) and she hopes for him to get truly, genuinely happy and she believes that falling in love could help with that. Whenever she saw Shigeo interacting with Chieko, she took note of the fact that Chieko is able to amuse Shigeo in a way that not many can (it’s not some sort off sadistic amusement, it’s a kind of charmed, adoring amusement) and that he genuinely likes her. Etsuya actually got to meet and interact with Chieko a lot more than his wife did. He’s not necessarily enthusiastic about the fact that the girl his son has his eyes on happens to be the daughter of two of the Polar Star Kids, who clearly don’t like him. He’s actually a little bit overwhelmed and confused by this situation time to time (he’s that math meme). However, he does not really dislike Chieko. Additionally, Etsuya also knows about Shigeo’s darker days and he does not in any way want to stand in the way of some happiness for his son. He’s a little annoyed by Shigeo’s constant “It’s business” though (ironically). But yeah, should Shigeo ever start to seriously start pursuing a romantic relationship with Chieko, Etsuya won’t be an obstacle to overcome.

Now, Yuki and Zenji are a different story. Zenji is generally super overprotective over Chieko and would be wary of any guy making moves on her. But now there’s the fact that it’s Shigeo Eizan who makes moves on her. Who is basically the textbook bad boy and practically has a good bunch of warning signs attached to him. So yeah, Zenji is screeching. He practically considers Shigeo a danger to his daughter and panics when Shigeo is only near Chieko, because he doesn’t fail to notice that Shigeo is perfectly capable of making Chieko blush. Yuki is conflicted. We know how excited she is about everyone else’s love-life after all, so naturally she was also excited about her own daughter’s. She’s the kind off mom who would ask if there’s any hot guys in class when her daughter comes home from her first school day. Yuki was super excited about when Chieko would reach that age where romance would become a topic in her life and she was basically looking forwards to crushes-chats with her daughter. However, the guy that turned out to be her daughter’s crush (Yuki notices, despite Chieko’s denial) is Etsuya Eizan’s son. And Yuki absolutely can’t stand Etsuya Eizan. So yeah, she feels troubled, because she wants to tease her daughter and encourage her onto making moves and all that stuff, but she does not trust Shigeo in the slightest and fears he might be toying with her precious daughter.

🖤 Have they ever had a really bad argument where they almost broke up?

They will have a rather big argument, but they won’t be a couple at that time.

💋 Who is the best kisser? (if you’d like write a short smooch scene!)

Shigeo

💜 Give a random fact about their daily life together!

Shigeo tends to gift her macarons, because he picked up that they’re her favorite sweets (next to practically everything with Matcha) but she does not often get to eat them.

#would you look at the time #this became long #and it's just...a word-salad as always #I am ahdhdf not good with wording things I am sorry #Gofer answering to stuffz #Shigeo Eizan #Chieko Marui

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jordanicus-prime · 6 years ago

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A New Cybertron Chapter 2

A/N: This is going to be the last chapter that’s basically a re-write of the TFP series. I liked how TFP bid farewell to Earth, but I feel like we didn’t see everyone’s reactions, so I decided to shed some light on all the character’s thoughts and actions. Thank you for all the support with the first chapter, now get ready for some angst!

The ride back to the Autobot base was short yet silent. Everyone was overjoyed that Cybertron was alive again but no one could bear the thought of leaving Earth, of tearing their found family apart.

The silence remained as the Autobots began packing up the base. It was horrible, everyone had so much to say to one another and no one was saying it. Bumblebee couldn’t handle it anymore, he finally piped up. “I remember my first day on Earth. It was raining and I had no idea how to find the base. So I powered through the mud and mess, trying my best to avoid humans, and hunkered down in a cave for a few days. Finally, I think my signal powered through the clouds and Team Prime, more like Optimus, Ratchet, and Bulkhead at that time, found me.” He smiled at the memory. “I hated the rain so much for so long. But what I wouldn’t give to go outside and feel the rain again.”

From there conversation came naturally. Good memories, bad memories, funny memories, all of it, was remembered. As the final things were packed up, Optimus summed their time up on Earth perfectly. “We came to Earth expecting a continuation of war, hardship, and misery. We may have found war and hardship, but we come away with growth, friends, and family.” His eyes fell on the humans. All of the kids had tears in their eyes but were managing a bittersweet smile at the leader who had changed their lives. “Now it is time to not say goodbye, but until next time.”

Until this point Ratchet hadn’t said much, only commenting here and there, but now he finally spoke, “I’m staying on Earth.” He announced. Everyone turned to look at him in shock. Ratchet grinned at the looks on their face. “Yes, I’m sure I want to stay. Cybertron will always be home, but so is Earth now, and someone has to look after the children.” His grin became a smile at seeing Raf smile genuinely for the first time in several hours. Optimus nodded at his trusted friend’s decision and with that the remaining Autobots began saying their goodbyes.

Ultra Magnus was the first ready to leave. The humans had gathered in the center of the room, standing next to Ratchet. Magnus stopped in front of the group and looked at them. “I want to thank you, for your help and for giving me a family in a dire time.” He gave a rare smile. “The Decepticons were wrong to doubt you humans. You’re stronger than you let on. This planet has much to learn form you.” Agent Fowler gave a salute, which Ultra Magnus returned. He began to walk away before pausing. Magnus turned and knelt in front of Miko. “As leader of the Wreckers, I hereby declare you an official member of the Wreckers. I must inform you that nowadays, we don’t do much wrecking, but you’ve earned the title many times and I’m sure your guardian would agree with me.” Bulkhead nodded and Miko copied Fowler’s salute but this time with a massive, watery smile. She soon broke form and gave Magnus’ large pede a hug. With that, Ultra Magnus left through the Spacebridge, promising himself to come back soon.

Smokescreen was next to leave. He looked around the base one last time, taking in all the details he possible could. He approached the group he was leaving behind. Smokescreen inhaled, unsure of what to say, how to thank those in front of him. After a moment, he finally spoke. “Earth isn’t Cybertron, but hanging with you guys, has been one of the best things to happen to me. Make sure to save me a seat at Movie Night next week.” Smokescreen sent a wink at Miko who organized Movie Nights. He shook Ratchet’s hand, “Thanks for believing in me Doc.” Ratchet nodded in response. Finally, Smokescreen knelt down in front of Jack, “Thanks for everything teach, don’t get into too much trouble without me.” He put his hand up for a fist bump.

Jack put his fist up to Smokescreen’s. “What are you talking about? You're the one getting me in trouble. Take care Smokescreen.” Jack smiled at the young Autobot. Smokescreen walked through the Spacebridge but not before looking over his shoulder one more time, partly wishing he could stay.

Wheeljack planned to make his exit quickly, he wasn’t much for emotional goodbyes. He stopped in front of the humans and met each person’s eyes. “When I first got to this planet, I didn’t get the hype behind you humans. But, after spending time with you and seeing how despite the fact that you’re human, you can kick some tailpipe.” He looked to Agent Fowler, “I know we’ve had our differences but you did good for your planet.”

“Thank you for defending my planet.” Fowler responded. “I didn’t mind your mouthing off, just keep in mind I can always put you in your place.” He joked, causing Wheeljack to laugh.

On a last note, Wheeljack looked down to Miko, who had been crying since Wheeljack began to leave. “Hey kid, you’re one of the toughest, little wrecking balls the universe has ever seen and I know you’re gonna do me and Bulk proud.” He stopped there because he knew his voice would break if he kept going.

Miko sniffled, “You’d better come back and visit or I’ll come to Cybertron and haul your aft back here.”. She gave Wheeljack a fistbump before he turned to leave. “Like Bulkhead says ‘I always leave but I’ll always come back’” he thought to himself as he entered the vortex.

Bulkhead decided to follow his friend, having known the humans since the beginning, it felt wrong to him to be leaving and not taking them with the team. Bulkhead was never very good with words, but ever since there was a possibility of Cybertron being revived, he’d been trying to gather the right words. Bulkhead felt 5 pairs of eyes fall on him as he approached. “Uhhhh,” he began, suddenly losing the eloquent words he had spent hours putting together, so he decided to start with his farewell to June.

“June, I can’t tell you how great of a job you’ve done taking care of the kids. And I know she’d never admit it, but Miko and I have really appreciated you and how much you care about everyone here.” Bulkhead smiled, as June nodded with a quiet “Thank you”. Bulkhead turned his attention to Raf and Jack, “You guys may not have been my kids to look out for, but you two have always had my back. Raf, you little genius, this planet isn't ready for what you're gonna bring to the table. You’re so young and you're already smarter than I’ll ever be.” Bulkhead ruffled the 12-year-old’s hair. “And Jack, you’re a great kid, and this world is gonna be better off for it, thanks for taking care of this one.” he said pointing to Miko. Jack nodded in response, a small smile on his face, showing his fondness for the Wrecker. Bulkhead locked optics with Ratchet. “I know I always give you a hard time Ratch, but it’s because you need to relax a little bit. Hopefully, spending some quality time on Earth will help you out with that.” Bulkhead joked. “Thanks for everything, Ratchet, the Autobots would’ve fallen apart without you.”

Ratchet waved his hand dismissively at Bulkhead, “I will be able to finally relax with you and Wheeljack getting off this planet.” Ratchet joked. “But it’s been a pleasure serving with you, don't be a stranger.” Ratchet somberly smiled.

Next on Bulkhead’s list was Fowler, but the agent cut him off before he could say anything. “Look two-ton, I’m not one for sappy goodbyes. You may have made a bit of a mess by showing up, but you prevented many bigger ones.”

Bulkhead stuttered for a moment, “I was just doing my job Fowler, just like you were always doing yours.” He responded. Fowler extended his hand in a handshake. Bulkhead held up one of his massive fingers to the man’s hand and barely moved his hand. His smile fading, Bulkhead moved on to what he knew was going to be the hardest goodbye he would ever say.

Miko was doing her best to hold back her tears as her guardian, and best friend approached. They stood in silence for a moment before Miko lost her composure and embraced Bulkhead’s pede. Bulkhead placed a hand behind her back in the closest thing to a hug he could get. Finally, Miko spoke, “Thank you Bulkhead, you’ve protected me, supported me, and been the best friend a girl could ask for. As much as I hate to see you leave, I’m so happy you can finally go home, but you’d better come visit or I will personally drag you back myself.” Miko let our a weak laugh after that. “I love you Bulk.” she said, letting go of his pede.

“You too, Miko.” Bulkhead smiled sadly at Miko. “I never thought someone as small as you are could be as awesome or brave, you’re the best kid around and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for you, trust me, I’ll be around to see it myself.” Bulkhead wiped Miko’s tears as he stood. He walked through the Spacebridge with a heavy spark.

Bumblebee couldn’t prevent the inevitable any longer, it was time to leave the planet he considered home as much as Cybertron was. He traced his hand on the wall of the base and walked as slowly as he could to the humans. He paused in front of the humans, almost forgetting he had his voice back to bid the humans goodbye. He started with Fowler, “Thank you for being an amazing liaison and making sure we were safe on your planet.” Fowler gave a curt nod and a “Anytime, soldier.” Bumblebee looked to Jack and Miko, “You two are some of the bravest kids I’ve ever met and I know you guys are going to take great care of Raf while I’m on Cybertron. Stay cool.” He held his fist up to get a fist bump from both kids. Bumblebee turned to Ratchet. “Ratchet, you’ve saved so many lives since we’ve been on Earth. I can never thank you enough for always helping everyone and Raf.” The scout recalled one of the worst days of his existence.

Ratchet responds with a proud smile at the young mech. “You’ve always had a strength beyond your years, Bumblebee.” Bumblebee embraced Ratchet, which Ratchet returned, being a little less surprised this time. Ratchet nodded in farewell to Bumblebee, which he returned with a one-handed salute as he made his way to Raf.

Bumblebee could see that Raf was struggling to keep a neutral, much less a happy face. Bumblebee steeled himself, as he couldn’t picture his life without Raf by his side supporting him, talking to him, and just being his friend. Raf couldn't meet Bumblebee’s eyes, he kept his eyes locked on the floor and kicked at nothing, not knowing what to say. Bumblebee let out a small chuckle. “I don’t know what to say either, but with you I never had to.” Raf looked up at Bumbebee with tears brimming from his eyes. Bumblebee found it easy to forget how young Raf was, but right now it was glaringly obvious that Bumblebee was witnessing Raf lose his normal composure and revert to a kid, a kid who was trying to smile through his best friend leaving him. “Raf, I know I’m not going to be here anymore, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to visit you. And I’ll let you in on a secret, Cybertron was terraformed by our war, but given time and a clean-up effort you’ll be able to visit us on Cybertron within a year.” Raf was genuinely smiling now, and it was here that Bumblebee’s composure broke. “Raf, you are so young and you’ve been through so much. You’ve always risen above everything this war threw at you and if it weren't for you who knows what would’ve happened to us.” Bumblebee’s voice cracked as he continued, “Even in my moments of weakness and doubt, you’ve stood by me. You embraced me as family, even though I’m not from your world.” Bumblebee looked at Raf who was beaming through his tears at him. “Now I have the words to tell you thank you Raf- thank you so much.” Once the two had regained their composure, Bumblebee walked through the Groundbridge, excited to see Cybertron but wanting to turn around and run back to Earth.

Arcee being the first to meet the humans, decided that she would be the last to say goodbye. She strolled up to the humans, smiling but Jack could see that it was a false smile. Arcee sighed before she began her goodbyes, she didn’t know where to begin so she started with the youngest. “Hey Raf,” she started, the kid still looked a little distant after saying goodbye to Bumblebee. “You’re one of the brightest kids around, you’ve made us and Bee so proud, and don’t worry we’ll be back to see how far you go.” she placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and left it there as she turned to Miko, placing her other hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Miko, you scared the scrap out of us 100 times, and we told you to stop, but what we didn’t tell you was how brave you were. Never lose that rebel streak, the world needs more people who aren’t afraid to be themselves.” Both humans gave her a hug, which she reciprocated to the best of her ability.

The Darbys received Arcee’s attention next. June had her hands on Jack’s shoulders, both looked ready to cry. June spoke before Arcee could begin, “Arcee, I want to thank you for always protecting my son and being a good friend to him. And you’d better come back and visit, you’re a part of this family now.” June let out a watery laugh.

Arcee smiled at June, “You raised Jack well, I know I’m leaving him in good hands. Thank you June for being a well of support for us, we’ve always needed that.”, with that June stepped back, letting Jack and Arcee say their goodbyes in private.

Jack took in a shaky breath before he began, “I know I always complained about wanting a normal life and my girl problems starting when you showed up, but Arcee I am so glad to have met you. Yes, these past few years may have been hectic but they’ve been absolutely amazing, well you’re amazing!” Jack blinked rapidly to keep his composure. Arcee cut him off before he completely lost his composure.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Arcee put simply. She stood to leave and before she did she turned over her shoulder “I’ll be back to visit.” She promised.

“Don’t make me hunt you down.” Jack joked. Arcee walked through the portal smiling.

Optimus had gone on a final walk through the base before leaving. His eyes swept the room before him and though the humans had never seen him cry, they could swear there were tear-stains on his face.

Optimus began his farewells with his oldest friend. “Ratchet, the end of this war has been a long time coming. You worked tirelessly for our cause and we are all grateful for a valued medic and friend.” Optimus grabbed Ratchet’s hand in a handshake. “This is not a goodbye but merely an until next time, old friend.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Ratchet let off a rare smile, letting go of Optimus’ hand. “And don’t be a stranger or I’ll march through that Spacebridge and bring you back myself.” Ratchet chuckled but he and Optimus knew he was being completely serious.

Optimus turned to the humans who had taught him more than he could ever teach them. They were different than they were when they first met his team, but they were stronger for it, they were a family, his family.

“Agent Fowler, your bravery in protecting your planet is to be commended. You handled threats in stride and were a most trusted ally. I wish you and your planet well.” Optimus commended the brave Agent.

“You really are something else Prime. You’ve saved my bacon more times than I can count, this planet still owes you everything it’s got.” Fowler smiled at the towering mech.

“Nurse Darby, your strength and knowledge has aided us in many crises, you have been able to take care of the children when we could not. And you have always been a beacon of support.” Optimus nodded towards June. At this point June had lost her composure and could only smile broadly through her tears.

Now, Optimus began a very difficult goodbye, saying goodbye to these children was like saying goodbye to his own. He could feel his Prime persona breakdown a little as he spoke to them.

“Back on Cybertron, I always dreamed of having a family of my own. When the war started that had to be pushed aside. I may not have gotten that, but I can say that I feel as if you children are my own. That being said, I want to know when your graduations are and big events that call for family to be there, because I will be.” Optimus had picked the children up in his hand and lifted them so they could speak face to face. “Rafael, you have a wisdom beyond your years and have dealt with responsibilities that no one, especially one as young as you, should ever face. Your ability to get to know others has uplifted us and we all value your friendship, especially Ratchet. Miko, your strength is awe-inspiring, your ability to push past any challenge and come through smiling has made many dark days a little brighter. You are a warrior inside and out, never give up the fight for what you think is right. Jack, you have grown much since meeting Team Prime, it has been my pleasure watching you grow. The world is your oyster Jack, know if you ever need anything, Team Prime will be there for you, all three of you.” Optimus paused to look at the children, there wasn’t a dry eye in sight. “It is with a heavy spark that I leave you here for Cybertron, but I will return. Until then, take care and good luck.” Jack, Miko, and Raf hugged Optimus’ hand as best they could. He placed them back on the ground with the first true smile he had worn since very early on in the war. Optimus walked to the Spacebridge and paused before sending one last glance over his shoulder.

“Thank you.... for everything.” Jack said, barely audible to the Autobot leader.

Optimus nodded in acknowledgment before stepping through the vortex.

On the other side, the rest of the team stood gawking at the ruins of Cybertron.

One story may have finished, but a new one was just beginning.

#tfp #A New Cybertron #Optimus Prime #Ratchet #Bulkhead #Bumblebee #Arcee #Wheeljack #Smokescreen #Ultra Magnus #Jack Darby #Miko Nakadai #raf esquivel #feedback is welcome!

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castlehead · 6 years ago

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:wanna write a pome bout fire an call it sicc burrn.-

Be happy as you tie your shoes it is another day the will is written and I need no longer pray to organize what wishes left and throw out the lies about that death of mine that would have been had I not decided a mulligan on the whole damn escapade and doctors blowing up my phonepiece on my way to peace at the top of an office building called oddly enough the oracle office building i scoped the spcs it seemed high enough this time to break thorough enough larger numbers of bones

it was damn hot i removed identifiable clothing in case somebody sicced an ambulance on me i was out in the sticks some upscale suburb in Lexington with all these trees fucking my signal i made a wrong turn it was so damn hot i actually got farther from where i was going to go to die at the top tip point of an office building called the fucking oracle of all things i don't even know what kind of symbolism that shit is i just know it was damn hot and I was buying time by saying I was on my way till it became obvious I wasnt then prayed to lord jesus that if I killed myself let no one else do it because I did please do yr genie powers thing grant my wish if even I shake from the impact of meeting the fiery dearth of hell as simultaneously i met the boiling paved ground of a parking lot that has nothing to do with me hoping a thorougher break and no one too sad or not really sad too long

i wrote my will at a gas station im not a lawyer but tried to shaipshape the legality ok enough

but I thought of my daughter and all reason got ghosted right quick and logical comportment that made me calmly walk to this random office building GPS FUCKING MY SHIT UP folks wondering where I am i saying I am on my way but like it's been so long and no Dan knocking just wanted to buy time but my daughter unraveled my heart out of this daft empirical natty tightness and my tired shaggy patrician aspect which I resent for looking like ive spent long st studies and am back for the summer to get some sun i resent my eloquence that seems and seems all day when I know not even the semester seems unseemlywack fuck drenching a good shirt walking his way to die whwerever because catching an uber to my suicide well that would be rather tasteless.

when I got in here i found a fortune hiding in this cubbie shits it said this

"people who give happiness deserve happiness."

i remember in my intercessions to christ I asked for a visible sign I would be certain of and thought of my daughter and thought tha best mystic indication was whatever sign I myself conjured as all in the end must be assessed by the only great vacuity that does not inspire suspicion because it is the one we own love is irrational it is fortified from the best reasons to die as something simply for its own sake and like the deviant flexing purples of parnassian for the sake of art i guess I can still satisfy my gluttonous desire for logic and reason and proving by maintaining the practice of art as causa sui equally valid for denying any higher symbol or point to perform as on that reasonless beautiful spectrum as loving for the sake of love and living likewise if even i must endure another shameful cry of wolf i end up being sensible by tossing aside my book of reasons for why I am mostly a problem and the selfishness of continuing to live and be a problem and someone this reason discarding reason is more reasonable.

life is funny. my will is writ i my lawyer by proxy christ telling my why to live with some stupid fortune about happiness.

but His insight has always come after the fact else he would meddle too much in my freedom. but I knew he met what he said.

my will is writ. i write it everyday. i have thought of it living i have thought of it the insensible force and the meaning entire that has no argument and needs no proof and exists the more than those things that do

...A FEW WEEKS LATER.

WE BE OUT HERE, BUT IN HERE !!

since I cannot leave this unit i will go outside an inside place I will pretend my imagination is real which I guess is what that is anyway but

/||knockknockknockknockknock!,!!!||

ITS NOT FAIR IM AFRAID TO LAY DOWN SO MUCH STRESS TOO GOD DAMNED LONG THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON I NEED A WEIGHTED BLANKET SHIT I NEED A QUIET ROOM MEDITATION SOMETHING MINDFULNESS PLEASE ANYTHING to distract

this feeling I need.. I need to talk to my social worker.. for the love of goddddssdd

i will hear these screams as the conversation of nice birds

it doesn't have to be special genus sparrows sound beautiful the most often

because their crew of them aflitter about one tree produce a nice litany of voices

small and excited and excitable Lacking patience like anything small

a nice cheeping of a bushel of birds in the bush, ripe as any sound

to collect the same as shiny red apples nice very nice I will hear that

instead of the screams of this fat patient who

selfish in her grief makes all the other patients anxious and cuts in line-

-at the med window becuase she must be attended to its serious can I

talk to somebody please

her tears already squint her eyes nearly out of existence suffocated

by big puffy fucking cheeks raw with grief that's been goin on so ling maybe it's both simulated

and of a sincerity developed over all this time doing it every day all day

screaming about her situation she says she's smarter than everybody and knows what's going on here

this really stout lady who is on-

-this damned filibuster long time now it's been

saying tearfully I am scared-

-of ECT & I DONT BELONG HERE THE DEPAKOTE TOOK AWAY MY FEELINGS

my epidermis will turn over and I willl look as tho skinned

it is alright and even tho it is

this is an act of desperation considering it's absurdity and the fact I spend my days

better than others who pace to pass the time the halls lit in this unwell shit ass light

my single act of rebellion was in refusing to lower the volume playing fairest of the seasons as a tribute

or something for this girl who liked Buddha who was leaving, and I said in the least patronizing way I could,

CHIN UP, KID.

i feel like she valued that little pearl of wisdom that rosebud of shit like that comes out finally when ya

constipated from all the decaf coffee cuz ya need a high somehow riht?

actually silly now to think of that that song by nico that German lady who sang for VU // eh I unnoh its pretty i guess..

it was cause someone I knew was getting discharged

against the life of deeply felt boredom. thing is I feel for her

i really do but this reaction doesnt help yr case ma'am

. . . . . .

[...psych units stop helping and start being a wear on the soul at some point, like resorting to leather sandals too much for any outside excursions. Alas, the wind, I can tell she misses how she feels on my face. I miss her openness, divine golden ointment of reality. Blowing hymns. For there I found myself more truly and more street]

COMING AT U VIA RADIO BROADCAST FROM AB2 SOUTH IN THE McLEAN-ASS MORN

ITS RAGEFUL AMES, THE HOST W/ YR DOSE OF LITHIUM

THE ’No Biggie’ STATION CUZ WE ALL GOTTA CALM OURSELVES

FOR AL THE DEMENTS OUT THURR

THE FIRST MORNING INSTALLMENT OF YACK YACK YACKING

AND A FEW MUSIC THINGS TO JUST MAKE THE VOICES STOP

#poetry #poem #pome #powtry #psych unit #hospitalization

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btsiguess · 7 years ago

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This Is Just To Say (m) - 1

Summary: To say it’s unusual to have a soulmate is an understatement, and most people desperately wish to have an elegant name scrawled upon their wrist. In reality though, you’d have to say it causes much more issues than it solves.

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader (slight Namjoon/Reader; Jungkook/Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: T.S. Eliot bashing, if that matters to you. Vague philosophy references that don’t matter?? Too many cute boys to handle?! Honestly, too many italics but I’ll fight you over it?

A/N: Here have a garbage soulmate/college au that no one asked for.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

“How can you even say that?” Namjoon asked you through a mouthful of food, pulling your attention away from your reading… again, “T.S. Eliot is fantastic? He’s one of the greatest Modernist writers of all time!”

“Joonie, are we seriously still fighting about this? It’s been hours, when are you gonna let it go?”

“Maybe I’ll never let it go?” He deadpans, “I just can’t believe you call yourself a literature major and you hate T.S. Eliot.”

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time today, and despite himself Namjoon smiles at you as you gaze around the dining hall. This was how things always were with the two of you, bickering mindlessly over something pointless, but you really wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Joonie,” you say again, “T.S. Eliot was just so pretentious, Modernism in general was so pretentious. Think about it: in order to have been able to understand Eliot’s writings when he was actually writing you would have had to have been highly educated. The man doesn’t write for the masses. He writes for different versions of himself! Other awkward smart boys who think they’re too good for the people around them. T.S. Eliot takes poetry out of the hands of the generally uneducated masses for no good reason other than he wants to look smarter than them!”

“How can you say that, it’s like you’ve never even read hi-”

“Namjoon, I swear to god. Have you read ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock?’ Off the top of my head I know it mentions at least three other works that only the educated could get their hands on, let alone understand. You have to through and through understand the economy at the time of his writing, the socio political tensions, the popular literature, the culture! Otherwise his references go right over your head. And everyone eats his damn ass because they think he’s eloquent and cool, when really he was just an edgelord all the time. Like damn, eat a peach if you want to pal. Who’s gonna stop you? I’m not saying he’s utterly terrible, because he isn’t. I’m just saying that there are so many other poets we could be focusing on!”

You look back down at your book, unsure whether you want Namjoon to provoke you more or not. It’s true that your favorite thing to do is argue but it’s just been a really long day.

Namjoon smiles at you for a moment, and you know he’s admiring your passion. At the end of the day that’s really what kept you two so close. Intelligence is nothing without passion.

“Fine,” he said finally, surprising you since he never usually relented so easily, “but you have to admit you’re a little bit of a hypocrite since don’t you love Wallace Stevens or… whatever his name is? The plum guy”

“It’s William Carlos Williams you ass,” you scoff at his mistake, “he wasn’t even a modernist anyway.”

A slight cough coming from the end of your booth makes you both look up into the smiling face of Taehyung, his eyes bright and his dining hall tray piled high with food.

“Are you losers still arguing over T.S. Eliot?” He asks, smirking as he sits down beside you. “I seriously thought that our professor was going to throw you both out of class for that heated debate, and normally she loves when you two fight!”

“Well I guess we’ll stop fighting when Joonie admits he’s wrong.” you coo back, stealing a fry off his plate, laughing at his feigned horrified expression.

“And where do you fall, Tae?” Namjoon asks, ignoring you, “Are you an Eliot fan or do you think he’s too pretentious?”

“Mmm. I think he’s pretentious, but that’s why I like him?”

Both you and Namjoon groan, neither of you pleased that a definitive winner hadn’t been decided by Tae’s choice.

“Don’t sound so put out, you two honestly. It’s just literature.” Tae added, cheekily. You closed your eyes and prayed to whatever deity was out there for a better group of friends. Ones who wouldn’t try to rile you up at every twist and turn. When you opened them again though, it was still Tae and Joon sitting around you, both smiling like the slippery bitches they were. Instead of engaging though, you opted for a subject change.

“Tae, my sweet boy, what are you doing tonight?”

“Why? Are you asking me out?”

“No, actually, I’d rather die. Just wanted to know if you wanted to bum around in the library with me later. I’d like to start the essay we were assign--”

“Oh, you mean the one that we were assigned today? The one that’s due in three weeks? That essay? Yeah no. I’m not starting that. Anyway, there’s a baseball game tonight.”

“Ah, okay. Don’t be an ass either. You know I wouldn’t start it normally, but I had a good idea.”

“I’m not doing anything later,” Namjoon interjected, “thanks for asking though.”

“Joonie, don’t you have philosophy club tonight?” you questioned, arching your brow. There was always philosophy club on Thursday’s, and Namjoon never missed it.

“Oh shit, yeah, I do actually. You should come with me! They like when you go!”

“Joonie, they definitely don’t like when I go. They try to rip me apart. And, ugh, there’s always that one guy. What’s his name? Mike? Matt? Mark?”

“Zach.” Joonie laughed.

“Yeah! That’s his name! Oh my god, what a douche bag! Do you know what he said to me last time I went? He said--”

“What would you know, you’re only an English major.” The two boys in front of you chorused back in unison, leaving you to huff indignantly.

“I like when you go though,” Joon said, and the soft look in his eyes already had your resolve melting away, “it’s always more interesting with you there.”

The worst part was Namjoon totally knew he had you. You could never say no to him. Ever.

“Fine.” you mumble, trying to sound annoyed, but really it was difficult when you saw the dimples appear on Namjoon’s cheeks. Those damn dimples.

“What time does philosophy club end?” Tae questioned, “If you can both make it, you should come watch the baseball game with me. I love supporting Jungkook and everything, but baseball is really boring when you have to watch it by yourself.”

“It ends around eight or so.” Joonie responded, “I’m down to swing by after, if it’s still going. I’ll drag Y/N along too, don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to protest but honestly the look on Taehyung’s face makes you drop your complaint. Honestly, what is happening to me? You think. These boys are making me soft.

“Ah good! The game starts at 7:30, so, you won't have missed much by the time you get there.”

The boys continue to chat as you return your attention back to your book, periodically stealing food off of Tae’s tray. If Tae minded, he didn’t show it. Then again, he never did, and you could’ve sworn that after he realized your tendency to pick at his plate he began to grab more food. You’d known him for the better part of the year, Joonie too. You had all met in your Writing About Literature class, and hit it off, deciding to take another class together the following semester. You were happy you had found friends so quickly after starting university, since walking around all alone could only sustain a person for so long. And even though everything about your friends sucked, you still loved them.

Eventually Namjoon bopped you on the head to get your attention and drag you to philosophy club. Tae wished you a brief ‘good luck’ as you exited the dining hall, and as you approached the campus center, where club events were held, you couldn’t help but think you might need it.

As expected, there were only around ten or twelve other kids sitting in the room when you and Joonie got there. So probably every philosophy major on campus, you thought. A few of them gave you snide glances as you took your seats and you felt your blood begin to boil. Philosophy club was less about genuine philosophy, and more about debate. The club members all liked to discuss contemporary moral problems until they were blue in the face, but whenever you piped up to add something everyone but Joonie tried to shut you down.

It made you work harder to prove them wrong, and boy did they hate that.

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw that Zach wasn’t there. But before you could truly revel in this little win, he walked through the door.

“Sorry I’m late everybody,” He began and his nasally voice grated on the inside of your ears, briefly making you wonder if a sound could actually make your brain bleed, “I got caught up in something. But I knew I couldn’t miss this meeting since I got to pick the topic for today.”

Fantastic.

“So the topic I’ve chosen to discuss is whether or not we think that those with soulmates should be allowed to sleep with people outside of their destined match.”

You froze briefly. Of fucking course this would be the topic. And after such a long day too.

“I assume,” Zach continued, “that no one in this room has a soulmate, since it's basically a one in a million occurrence, so unless I’m wrong, we can talk about them unhindered.”

You glanced around the room curiously to see if anyone spoke up to claim a soulmate, but unsurprisingly no one did.

As discreetly as you could you brushed your fingertips over the watch that hid the name of your soulmate, making sure that the elegant script was still hidden beneath the leather strap.

“Does anyone have any opening remarks?” Zach asked, and as someone piped up to the left of you, you couldn’t help but slink down in your chair.

“I think it’s sort of slutty,” the nameless girl said, “I mean, if you have a soulmate you already know you’re leading someone on if you sleep with them?”

You attempted to stare nonchalantly down at your nails. Trying to look and act normal, but for the life of you you couldn’t remember what normal even was in this moment. To fight back probably, but you just couldn’t find it in you. If you disagreed with them, they’d surely know that you have a soulmate. Right?

Joonie scoffed loudly beside you and you turned to face him, along with the rest of the people in the room.

“That’s so ridiculous,” he said, and for just a moment your heart fluttered in your chest, “hook-up culture is like, not even a contested thing anymore, how is someone with a soulmate sleeping around different than getting drunk at a party and hooking up with someone?”

“I’m just saying,” the girl shot back, “why would you want to if you knew? People with soulmates are already so lucky, they shouldn’t disrespect what they have like that!”

“Sex is natural!” Namjoon retorted, “And fun, you’re basically slut shaming!”

“Hey now!” someone else said, and quickly the room turned into utter cacophony. People trying to have their opinions heard over other voices until really, it didn’t matter what anyone was saying at all. Namjoon, for his part, was just as invested in the argument as everyone else. Fighting just as vehemently, never wavering in his stance. It wasn’t often you got a chance to look at him in a debate with other people, but when you did, your chest always filled with pride. He was so intelligent, so good hearted, and -- at least when it came to morality -- you were almost always on the same side of the dividing lines.

It was no different tonight, you definitely agreed with Namjoon on this topic. And the people you had slept with in the past could attest to that. Still though, an odd guilt washed over you whenever you were forced to look the matter in the face. To be fair, you had lost your virginity before the name even appeared on your wrist, to some ass hole who you thought you loved. You regretted it now, but sex was just sex, so you tried to shrug it off.

“It’s a blessing!” you heard a voice cry, “A blessing to be given a soulmate.”

God. All your life you’ve been hearing that from people. No one knew about your soulmate of course, but still, whenever the topic was brought up that word was always incorporated somehow.

You felt more cursed by it than anything, if you were being honest. ‘How can love be love if you don’t get the choice?’ your father used to say, and you agreed with him.

Your father had a soulmate too. A soulmate who was not his wife, not your mother. And somehow he had never been unfaithful. He had been with your mother since high school, and when some other woman’s name appeared on his wrist at 17, your mother had been devastated. It didn’t matter though, because your father stayed. Steadfast and loyal until the name on his wrist started to fade away. While it was still there now, it was bitterly faint -- a stark contrast to the dark black lettering on your skin. He kept the name covered, always. And though both of your parents supported you irrevocably in your right to choose whether to seek out the person on your wrist, it had never been a question for you.

You remember when you told them about your choice, to keep your soulmate a secret, to live your life as your father had lived his. Your parents had nodded, smiling, and your father had come home the next night with a watch for you to wear, just like him. The memory had you smiling despite your current situation and you reached down again to gently rub the watch that graced your wrist even now three years later. The strap was your favorite color and around the face of the watch were little vibrant jewels. You were sure they were real, no expense had been spared for this watch.

It’s symbolism wasn’t lost on you either. You knew your parents were overjoyed at the prospect of you forging your own path, just as your father had done.

“Sometimes,” your father had once told you in private, “sometimes you wonder about them.” And without asking you knew what he meant.

“You wonder whether they are happy or sad or safe. But really. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life it’s that love isn’t something that just falls into your lap. It’s a series of choices. You have to decide to put up with someone else’s bullshit. That’s all love is. And anyone who says otherwise is fooling themselves. Don’t make love bigger than it needs to be, or you may find yourself disappointed. If you let it be simple, you will find happiness. Y/N, remember this: an unconditional love only means you are in love with the idea of loving something.”

His words had struck a chord with you. You knew that he was right. And while you often did wonder about your soulmate, you never regretted your decision.

A soft tap on your cheek pulled you out of your reverie and made you glance over into the puzzled face of Namjoon. A raucous was still going on in the room around you, but Namjoon’s eyes were focussed only on you.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, “You’re not helping me at all here!” His smile told you that he was kidding though, and the genuine concern in his eyes left you reeling.

“Ah, I’m sorry Joonie. It’s just been a long ass day. I don’t think I could argue with them tonight.”

Namjoon nodded quietly, and stood up suddenly.

The room went quiet and Namjoon just shrugged as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room. For a bit you walked along the hallway in silence, a mixture of relief and guilt spinning in your stomach.

“Joonie, you didn’t have to do that.”

He stopped momentarily to look at you. “I did. You weren’t acting like yourself in there, I didn’t like it.”

“Oh.” you replied weakly.

“What’s really wrong? I’ve seen you tired, you still always have enough fight in you to tell Zach to shove it up his ass. You’ve got me worried.”

“It’s really nothing, Namjoon, please--”

“Don’t say it’s nothing, we both know that’s bullshit. C’mon, it’s just me.”

You looked up into his eyes, full of warmth and worry. Big mistake, you thought. And for the first time ever you wondered if it would be so bad to let someone else know about your soulmate.

Namjoon took your hands in his, in a slightly uncharacteristic display of affection between you two.

“Please.” he said simply, and for the second time today you felt your resolve crumbling.

“It was just… the topic that they were arguing about I guess?”

“Soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would that upset you? The slut shaming was pretty severe, but I’ve watched you take people down for that before with absolutely no qualms at all and oh my god you have a soulmate.”

“Yeah.”

“You? Y/N you have a soulmate?” Namjoon rakes his fingers through his hair and glances down at your watch covered wrist.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess? Y/N, this is amazing, isn’t it? Who is it? Have you already--”

“Joonie, do you think we can go somewhere else to talk about this? Please.”

For a moment, Namjoon stays silent, taking in your uncomfortable frame, before grabbing your hand and pulling you along behind him. No words are exchanged as you walk the campus to Namjoon’s dorm, which you find empty, for better or for worse. He sits you on his bed and begins to pace in front of you.

“You really have a soulmate?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“That’s incredible, I honestly never thought I’d meet someone who had one.”

“Most people don’t.” You shrug.

Namjoon sits down on the bed next to you.

“Have you met them yet?” He asks and you shake your head. He lets out a small breath before nodding to himself.

“Can I see it?”

“Joonie. I know that it’s a really big deal for you but I just… for me it’s not like that at all. I wish I didn’t have it. I’m not… I’m not looking for them. I don’t want them.”

Namjoon cocks his head to the side a bit, looking puzzled.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You move yourself backwards on his bed, your back hitting the wall before you respond.

“It just doesn’t make any sense to me, Joonie,” you tell him, “soulmates can’t just happen, they’re made.”

“I don’t follow…”

“My mom and dad have been together since high school you know. Nearly thirty years now, I’d say.”

“That’s impressive but I don’t see how--”

“My dad, Joonie. He’s got a soulmate too. But it isn’t my mom. Does that make my parents love a lie? Does it make it less valid?”

Namjoon doesn’t answer right away, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“No.” he says finally.

“They found each other. They fell in love. And they grew together, Joonie. That’s what I want. I want to fall in love with someone, in the normal way. I want to worry over whether it’ll work out, I want to struggle and fight to keep them because that’s what they deserve. That’s what love is. It’s being certain of something in spite of uncertainty. It's working until you’re certain. It’s silly and irrational. It isn’t something you can just sit back and count on. Because then it wouldn’t mean anything. How can love be love if you don't get a choice? My soulmate? That’s not real love. Love happens over time… this name? It’s a joke.”

Again Namjoon is quiet, and when you finally get up the guts to look at him there’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. You can’t quite place the emotion, but it isn’t negative.

“You’re incredible.” He says simply, and your heart skips in your chest.

Namjoon tilts his head towards the ceiling and his dimples show as he smiles.

“Here I’ve been all my life,” he says, looking pointedly at you once more, “thinking that I would do just about anything to have a soulmate, a real soulmate. And in less than ten minutes you swoop in and convinced me that I’m better off. That my love is more real than… than a soulmates! Jesus Christ, You are just something…” He laughs, and the sound makes you smile.

Of course Joonie would take it well. It’s Joonie after all.

“Namjoon,” you say, drawing his attention to you once more, “please don’t tell anyone. Besides my parents, nobody knows.”

Namjoon looks shocked at your admission but nods quickly enough.

“So basically, what you’re trying to say,” He responds, “is that I’m your best friend? Boy, Tae is gonna be so pissed.”

You laugh and hit his arm playfully, “Tae has that baseball player anyway. Of course you’re my best friend, but don't brag. It's unbecoming.”

“Ah yeah, Jungkook.” Joonie says, and you briefly glance at your watch. It was nearly 8, you’d have to start heading over to the field soon.

“Wait,” Namjoon says when you mention the time and start pulling him up to leave, “I have one question.”

“Yeah? Shoot?”

“You said your father has a soulmate too? What are the fucking odds that two people in your family would have them?”

“We honestly don’t know how it happened either. My mom has this crazy idea that the Gods were unsatisfied with his decision to ignore his soulmate, so they gave me one too. To try and get everything all right in the universe or whatever.” You laugh.

Namjoon laughs too, “Well then the Gods are gonna really flip their shit when they learn you are being so difficult about it too.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way really.”

“Mmm.” he agrees, “Neither would I.”

“Joonie, we really have to go now, Tae’s all by himself!”

“You’re right. But you should go to the bathroom first, you always hate using public restrooms, and your bladder is the size of a raisin.”

“What the fuck does that even mean, Namjoon?” You hiss, but you know he’s right, and so you make your way to his bathroom despite your protests.

You hear him make a noncommittal noise in response as you close the door, and for what feels like the thousandth time tonight your fingers go to slightly twist the strap of your watch.

You’d been fidgeting with it more than usual and it was starting to irritate your skin just a bit. Quickly you undo the watch and place it on the counter, making an effort not to look at the black name on your skin.

It’s as you’re washing your hands though that your eyes finally lock with the name that’s been plaguing the back of your mind for years. You sigh loudly as you attach your watch to your wrist, effectively trapping away the name, as you attempt to do the same with your thoughts. Somehow though, you can’t seem to shake the way the lines curve across your wrist, and for the rest of the evening you’re haunted by the name that lies just out of sight.

The name Min Yoongi.

A/N: Yikes, there you go. Thank you for reading, if you got all the way down here. Also major shoutout to the actual love of my life @gimmesumsuga, for being my Beta and also? Inspiring me to write in the first place? I love her so much I’m sobbing, okay I’m going bye.

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moontimemumblings · 7 years ago

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Because you are that rarity of a man...

My dear Avijnaata,

So it has happened to me again – another beginning that has begun knowing its end. You. The only difference, though, is that you have done nothing to lead me on. Neither have you used your charm to encourage my own occasional playful remarks or devious questions. I must admit that although I was disappointed in the beginning, I have now grown fonder of you as a person and respect you like I’ve respected no other man.

I, on a few occasions in my life before, have allowed men to take advantage of my affection. It is not difficult for me to fall in love with people, you know, irrespective of their gender, their age or where they come from. A couple of evenings ago, on a bustling street in Andheri, Bombay, I saw a little boy running from one of those cramped little houses to buy something at a petty local shop. When he stood on his toes at the counter, panting, my eyes started welling up. There was such innocence in his impatience to get his hands on a few candies that, at that moment, the whole world seemed innocent because of his very existence.

The other evening in Bengaluru, when you left the coffee shop after talking to me, I stayed back waiting for a friend. Before she arrived, I saw an old couple walking outside. Between them was the silence that most of us yearn for with the ones we love. The kind of silence that had assimilated everything they had ever wanted to say to one another, the kind of silence from which would emerge those exact words only when the couple needed them to. Do you remember how the pavement is a little uneven at the end of 37th Cross just outside the coffee shop? The old man took his fragile wife’s hand and helped her cross that stretch with a moving motherly care. And they continued to walk hand-in-hand until they disappeared from my vision at the 38th Cross. Needless to say, I was in love with the quiet old couple in a heartbeat, and so in love with life itself.

When I say I’ve grown fond of you, I don’t mean it in a lustful way. Neither do I feel the want of owning you. And it’s not that I’ve overcome the want because you are unavailable, it’s just that it has been absent even as I started to realise this newly-born liking towards you. It’s the sort of fondness that has matured gradually to be resolute, without even being conspicuous or loud in its growth. It doesn’t take much for me to like people for what they are. With you, it’s the way a furrow gets formed between your eyebrows when you are listening to someone intently, it’s the way you roll your sleeves up and stop just before your elbows show, it’s the way you stand erect every time you stand – all six foot three inches tall – and how I feel dwarfed pleasantly when I’m around you.

Above all, it’s because you are that rarity of a man in whose presence I have come to feel safe. Safe, yes. I don’t have to worry about being hurt because I don’t anticipate anything more or anything less happening between us. All I covet is your radiant mind and those exceptional thoughts you’re capable of about the most common things. All I want, as always, is to meet you randomly at the coffee shop we both seem to frequent to, or anywhere, and talk. All I want is for things to remain as they are. And sometimes, all I want, is to just watch you, to soak in the ridiculous delight of knowing that such a man exists.

I was disturbed and even scared after reading about Loretta Young, Clark Gable and Judy Lewis last evening and all it took to calm myself was your message that said, “Don’t be so emotional, we’re friends, okay? I admire people who are eloquent about what they feel because I am not. And that’s why I like talking to you or reading you. We will keep in touch as friends and there’s nothing for you to worry about. I have had my share of fun in life and I’m now clear about when and where I need to draw the line in my relationships. I won’t cross it and neither will I give the other person the chance to. Calm down.”

I wish I were as simple a soul as you are, my friend. You know how to take care of yourself and it is so beautiful to watch. I have merely survived my wars and I cannot really claim to have taken good care of myself emotionally. I am not as clear in my head as you are in yours. When I confess this to you, you tell me how my own honesty itself is often a problem because it can seem harsh at times. You don’t hurt me with this truth by calling it a flaw. Instead, you move me to tears when you ask me gently to resort to honesty in smarter ways, in gentler ways than I am now capable of. Perhaps you are true; in my decision to choose honesty above all else in my human relationships, I might at times come across as unemotional to the other person. Although that’s not true – because I am as much of an emotional fool as any on this planet – it’s easy for the other person to think I’m unsympathetic. I need to be a little more careful in using candour to nurture my relationships. There are gentler ways of discussing truths than I am currently capable of and my lesson has begun from watching you, listening to you. And I promise to learn better, my dear friend, I promise.

And I hope you will continue to be gently honest with me, always. You make me want to be a better person, my Illegible Friend. You call yourself a simple soul but you are beyond my grasp, probably because I am still far from the end of the journey from complexity to simplicity. And one day, I hope to meet you where you are. Until then, my dearest... stay... stay...

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jokocraft · 7 years ago

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[more long meta] the real reason why nyma and rolo’s beauty was so extra and why hunk was 110% definitely lance’s foil in S1E6

(fyi this is sorta like an And There’s More part to this post.)

having nyma and rolo give off a “trustworthy” first impression was crucial to the writers’ basic moral of the story for S1E6: Voltron Gets Shanghaied. the moral is conveyed almost completely though hunk; in a previous episode, hunk initially judged shay as untrustworthy when actually her intentions were totally pure because she is pure. now that hunk has learned his lesson, he thinks twice before judging nyma and rolo solely by their first impression, and this gives him a clearer perspective on the situation than the others.

on the surface, the moral of the story is simply: always ask WWHD (what would hunk do?) don’t judge people by first impressions! yay! but. if that’s the moral, why are nyma and rolo, like, 10x hotter than they technically need to be in order to give off that “haha trust us!” first impression to facilitate that moral? they could have been average-looking freedom fighters, and the moral probably would have been even more powerful, because who do we already IRL prematurely judge as untrustworthy, just as much or even more than people who are shadowy and not-traditionally-attractive-according-to-our-culture? the answer: people who are Too Perfect. so if rolo and nyma had been more “unremarkable”, the cliche “don’t judge a book by its cover” theme might have held some more weight (rather than just validating that we should be suspicious of really attractive people).

I am remembering that this is a kids show, and this analysis is not necessary to appreciate the episode itself, but my point is that while there are obvious morals in this episode that no one would be wrong to say are intended, I believe these obvious morals are not the full picture. in other words, i don’t think these on-the-surface morals are the core of the episode. I went over this, sorta kinda, in my last post, but I want to go deeper this time and hopefully convey my point more eloquently and concisely comprehensively.

I think the vld writers are pretty smart, so I don’t think they made rolo and nyma extra attractive simply to add (problematic) spectacle to the “reveal” of their identities as criminals (which tbh even kids would see coming from a mile away what with hunk’s highly conspicuous suspicion and all, come on). and I definitely don’t think nyma and rolo were designed so attractive because the writers/directors actually believed the moral “people who are Too Perfect are out there and not to be trusted!!1!” made for quality storytelling.

so why then? why make their beauty so extra when average-looking character designs would have easily made the “first impression” moral more effective and less cliche?

I think is that the reason is three-fold:

the first and simplest reason that rolo and nyma’s beauty was so extra was to visually contrast as much as possible the first impression of shay and her brother. because from a visual storytelling standpoint, it’s just more thematically sexy that way.

the second reason assumes that the vld writers are perfectly aware of our tendency to distrust people who are Too Perfect and usedthat knowledge to give hunk a more easily believable (hunk is def smarter than us) relatable reason to not trust these guys.

and finally, well, let me preface some more: I think the vld writers are not only smart, but also pretty damn clever. too clever for the obvious morals to be the core message of E6′s Shanghaied plot, because like I explained in my other post, the entire Voltron Gets Shanghaied plot itself isn’t the core of the episode. rather, the Shanghaied plot exists the way it does (and at all) because it’s necessary for the core of the episode to effectively play out and its message properly conveyed.

and it’s core message? two-fold, this time:

it is wrong to punish someone just because they are not who you wish them to be

and

sometimes the people you fall for won’t fit any of your fantasies

maybe “you fall for” isn’t the best choice of words. the replacements “you have the strongest connections with” or “who are most compatible with you” are probably better, but they don’t sound like a Quote, you know?

a short elaboration on the first core message is near the end. a much longer elaboration on the second core message is thuss:

hunk is teased by pidge about shay being his new girlfriend, and I think there’s more to that offhand comment than just throwing hunk’s character a romantic bone. i think it’s very important, actually, how hunk’s relationship with shay is portrayed: rather than it being cast in an overtly romantic light, it’s respectful, genuine…downright wholesome, really. as usual, i believe this is a deliberate choice, made for reasons possibly not immediatley apparent: the nature of hunk’s relationship with shay (at least in E6 specifically) doesn’t reveal so much about hunk as does reveal a helluva lot about lance.

while revisiting E6, this time seeing hunk is lance’s foil, things start popping out: hunk’s easily made connection with Not A Fantasy Girl shay is in painfully sharp contrast to lance’s desperate effort force a connection with Fantasy Girl nyma. also, hunk may have brushed off the idea that he liked shay That way, but never once did he deny how important she was to her and how important it was for him to fulfill his promise to her. he embraced her exactly as she was and embraced the connection he felt with her by proudly making it known that while she’s in trouble, she is his top priority. this is the exact opposite of what lance is doing during this same episode, i.e. simultaneously, i.e. foils at their best). instead of accepting the connection unveiled between him and keith in E5, he’s rejecting it outright, and rejecting keith, too, because keith’s sure as hell no Fantasy Girl (arguable). and also-also, on the nyma/rolo planet, hunk can’t stop talking about shay while lance seems content to pretend keith doesn’t exist right now.

all this summarized: hunk embraces his new Non-Fantasy-Conforming connection while lance refuses to embrace his, probably on the basis that it’s Non-Fantas-NOPE

and then there’s keith. he’s chillin on this planet, not really reacting to anything, not really making any judgements about anyone one way or the other. the meaning of all this is not a show of keith’s coolness or don’t-give-a-fuck attitude or so shruggable. instead, how he acts on the planet is yet another very deliberate narrative choice.

if I’m not mistaken, it seems like rolo exists to serve as keith’s nyma, causing viewers like us to wonder, will keith let himself be taken in by this Fantasy Guy, like lance was with Fantasy Girl? will he want to restore his pride? get revenge??we narrow our eyes at the screen….hm…keith keeps being put in the same frames as rolo, that’s for sure….but……..

nope. well, keith probably acknowledged at some point that rolo was indeed pretty hot, but nope. he’s just not interested. why? maybe because keith isn’t as emotionally constipated as lance or he’s not nearly as likely to actually hit on anyone in a way that’s not literally hitting them.

or maybe the reason keith’s not interested in Fantasy Guy is because this boy gives zero fucks about fantasies.

even though keith probably feels spurned by lance in E6, and has every right to want to spurn lance right back (especially as he watches lance literally drool over some chick even after all they went through barely a day ago), keith doesn’t. he doesn’t even seem compelled to, and maybe that’s because he doesn’t see the point of giving special attention to someone he’ll probably never see again, or maybe because he’s already accepted the connection he has with lance as is.

you see, there’s pretty much no question that lance already had a fantasy or fantasies in mind of how finding his significant other would pan out (not that he or keith would actually think about their connection in those terms, of course), and because of these fantasies, when that telltale spark - that was probably, in some capacity, part of his fantasy - occurred, and it was with someone who absolutely did not fit the fantasy, lance decided to reject the whole thing as ever happening, as if doing that would somehow give him a do-over.

but keith….keith….keith being keith, I just don’t see him growing up with many fantasies related to a future “significant other”. did he even ever consider that such a person could even exist for him? if I were to guess, I’d say the answer is no, he didn’t think finding “that special someone” would ever be a Thing That Happened To Him. not because of any insecurity to do with his sexuality, but because of his insecurities to do with his interaction with others: he knows he’s a hothead, that he’s awkward, that he’s standoffish. he types himself as the loner, and really believes that’s just who he is. so he probably never bothered to wonder how that special connection could happen.

because, surely, it wouldn’t happen.

(but then, after a whirlwind of fighting and protecting and victory, keith knelt down and took the hand of his friend, someone who had brushed death to save a life, someone keith was glad to finally call a friend. they understand each other enough that there is nothing that really needs to be said, but then, this friend, someone fully aware of how hotheaded and awkward and standoffish keith was, told him something, with the upmost sincerity, with an unmistakable intimacy. something that, for a brilliant, brief moment, made keith feel like he didn’t have to be the loner anymore)

sob

as seen in the beginning of E6, keith clearly wants to embrace his new connection like hunk, but can’t because, well, when it comes down to it, actively embracing a connection with a person who doesn’t want to embrace it makes you look either like an idiot or a creep - or just pathetic.

while hunk has no reason not to declare to the universe that goddammit he’ll save shay if it’s the last thing he does, keith isn’t in the same position. he has plenty of reasons to keep how he feels to himself, but at least he’s learning to accept his own feelings. at least he accepts this connection for what it is, rather than wishing in vain it was something it isn’t.

at least, despite lance’s reluctance for something deeper, keith knows he can and should still be a valuable friend: he’s anything but reluctant or resentful or resigned to be the one to save the blue lion. if anything, he’s probably already as prepared to do anything to save lance as hunk is to save shay.

shay saved hunk, and soon hunk would save shay, and they so they earn themselves bond that lasts a lifetime. keith takes credit for saving lance’s lion, and it’s show of keith has his back. and so then it was lance’s turn to rise to hunk’s level and show some motivation in having keith’s back in return. which finally happens at the end of S3: at that point, he’s not afraid to tell keith that he’s proud to have his back, that he wants to. no other paladins are shown watching the exchange - lance’s words can’t be written off as meaning “look at me, i’m proud to have the back of all my teammates!”. it’s framed as something personal: “i’m proud to have your back, keith.“

I think keith deadass stopped fighting to smile at this because that’s, THAT’S, what he’s been waiting for, that unspoken reciprocation of “I want to defend you, not just because you’re my teammate, but because you mean something to me, personally.”

back to the point of all this….at least in terms of S1E6, not only is hunk a foil to lance, hunk’s relationship with shay is foil to lance’s relationship with keith.

hunk was suspicious from the moment they set foot on the planet, and lance completely gave himself over to blissful gullibility the moment they set foot on the planet. hunk honors his connection to shay by remaining confident and steadfast in his desire to fulfill his promise to her. lance could not be less confident about anything to do with his connection to keith. he doesn’t want to have to honor or promise anything, for fear of what that would mean.

“for fear of what that would mean”

hunk doesn’t care what embracing his connection with shay could “mean”. what if he falls in love with her or something?? whatever, that’s irrelevant! shut up pidge!

lance, on the other hand, does care what embracing his connection could mean. what if he falls in love withWHAT it could mean is unthinkable and Will Not be considered as something even to consider, because it’s not a thing. to consider. anyway where’s a Fantasy Girl when you need one? ah there’s one, let’s have a connection babe! also, could you stop doing things that remind me of a certain nobody, cause I want this to be all about us, you and me, and wow this is so romantic, us flying together over beautiful alien landscapes–I mean it’s NOT, except, like, it is in thiscontext, duh…

*smh at lance blushing to himself like ten times in one sequence*

hunk admittedly has it easier since he’s straight and shay is a girl and he has no emotional hold ups to stop him from telling the world how important shay has become to him after their…hm…bonding experience, you might say. even with romantic potential taken from the equation, he’s no less intent on acting on how much he cares about her.

to hunk, a theoretical seed of romantic love being planted in his heart or something is irrelevant to what his connection to her means to him. while his connection to her is definitely not as sterile as simply feeling obligated to repay the debt of his life being saved, it’s not defined by it’s Potential As A Romance! either. pidge acknowledges this by teasing hunk about shay being “a girlfriend” in front of everyone because pidge knows it wouldn’t affect his decisions or judgement.

in contrast: in S3, pidge is the first to look straight to lance when it becomes clear keith needs a pep talk. does she say something like, “he’s your boyfriend, lance.” fuck no, because that would be totally appropriate in the moment. but what about something more appropriate? even something innocuous like, “Lance, can you please set him straight?” wait… the point is, even if the situation weren’t so serious, pidge wouldn’t have teased him, and at this point, she’s not even going to dare acknowledge in words that keith sees him Differently from the others. in that S3 moment, if pidge had said anything along those lines, lance’s brain would have shorted and keith would NOT have gotten any needed pep talk that day or any day soon. instead, everyone lets the situation resolve itself, because sure enough lance steps up and it does the trick, and jesus if lance isn’t an oblivious motherfu

so chances are pidge - and shiro too - know lance’s decisions and judgement are absolutely affected when the nature of his relationship with keith is mentioned. because unlike hunk, he does care about that “nature” and what it means.

hell, he almost managed to get out from under from nyma’s influence and stop the blue lion from being stolen, but then she mentions keith while he’s still in her arms and whoops, JUDGEMENT AFFECTED.

when it matters, hunk’s connection to shay is not clouded by any potential extraneous *coughromanticcough* feelings for her, and that makes it possible for him to be a hero. and since he’s a foil to lance, his unclouded heroism intentionally brings out how much lance’s connection to keith is clouded by potential extraneous feelings. rather than heroism, shit happens like lance getting his own lion stolen and being chained to a tree.

but S3 shows beautifully that lance isn’t meant to stay like that forever. even though he still majorly struggles with self esteem unrelated to keith specifically, his maturity (and exposure therapy, tbh) has caused any feelings related to keith specifically to no longer sabotage his performance as a paladin. he doesn’t feel the need to one-up keith so much anymore, and he’s actually willing to step down from being a paladin so keith doesn’t have to, acknowledging that keith is an objectively better pilot, or at least at piloting Red. since lance is more confident in his role supporting the team from the back instead of insisting on proving himself on the front lines with keith and the others, he’s able to use his bayard as a sniper rifle for the first time rather than his usual short/mid-range blaster. lance is more effective on the team than ever, and it’s a national tragedy that he doesn’t appreciate his own improvement.

hunk is by no means a character there simply to contrast lance’s issues, but i think that it’s intriguing how he’s used in E6 to identify lance’s issue without spelling it out. and lance’s issue isn’t that his good judgement is compromised by his flirty personality, it’s that his good judgement is compromised by the toxic subjugation of his own emotions.

finally, I want to return to the first half of the two-part “core message”:

it is wrong to punish someone just because they are not who you wish them to be

i’ll be concise with this elaboration. this message was presented three different ways:

the Voltron team didn’t kill or unnecessarily punish nyma and rolo for being “criminals after all”

at first lance punishes keith (by dismissing and ignoring him) even though keith literally did nothing other than bring up a touchy subject. but eventually lance sees sense and comes to accept that, regardless of how he still feels, it’s wrong to take his emotional upheaval out on keith.

keith could have been way more pissed at lance for all his shit on the nyma/rolo planet. but it seems to me he understood that there was no point in “punishing” lance (i.e. not being forthcoming, not cooperating with this whole connection thing, being his flirty self) for…being lance. after all, technically all lance has done wrong, considering nyma was receptive to lance’s advances, is make that one asshole comment at the dining table at the beginning of the episode.

conclusion

assuming we’re not all totally delusional about the trajectory of keith and lance’s relationship, we should be (and you probably already are) impressed that vld’s writers clearly understand that they have to be more crafty with lance and keith’s relationship development. in E6, they couldn’t show lance angst over keith directly. that would have been an unauthentic portrayal of lance’s character, not to mention it would have shown their hand too soon, which is not ideal (and maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I’m assuming vld’s producers need the nature of lance and keith’s relationship kept on the down-low as long as possible while they continue to build their viewer base, but when the preferred ending of the series is not at stake, i.e. vld is renewed the X number of times necessary to greenlight the final season containing the intended “endgame state”, they can do whatever the hell they want in that final season, like, you know, casually make history). nevertheless, lance’s relationship with keith still needs to be developed, and it would also be unrealistic - and very poor storytelling on principle - for lance’s feelings to abruptly be made explicit without any evidence of them existing or developing in previous seasons.

examples of craftiness in just S1E6:

focusing on hunk and his behavior to directly contrast lance and his behavior

using nyma as a perfectly timed opportunity for lance to reveal his emotional turmoil caused by the bonding moment referred to in the beginning of the episode

basically using the whole Voltron Gets Shanghaied plot as the stage and set for the aftermath of the bonding moment to be properly recognized and realistically portrayed

bonus - this conversation exchange:

shiro: It’s our first big rescue mission. He’s excited.

pidge: Excited to see his new gIRLfriENd.

hunk: [gasps] She’s not my girlfriend! She’s just a rock that I met and I admire very much.

…that I can totally see being used to parallel to some future conversation like, I dunno:

shiro: Recon missions are his favorite. He’s excited.

pidge: Excited to work with his pARtNER.

lance: [gasps] He’s not my partner! We just team up sometimes because our skills happen to be very compatible.

anyway i love my rainbow space nerds and smothering them in meta, thx for reading~~

#klance #voltron meta #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #voltron

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