#They aren’t allowed to be happy by the Chaos hearts belief

[russetruse]

I know I don’t post writings here often, but I wanted to write something for @lizadale’s Dimigi!au. I don’t know Libby if you dream about the Dimigi!au but sometimes I do. I blame you sis. But also I added a lot more since you read the smaller version, enjoy almost 3k words on only part one of many.

Sorry it is written in 2nd person, but I blame Libby for getting me to only function in this style of writing but I can’t seem to write in any other prospective anymore lol.

I color coded characters, but what sucks is that this one doesn’t have black so I can’t use one of my original colors for characters speak. So the color I planned for one character had to move to the heart and the hearts color was originally black >:[ But I hope you enjoy.

Calamitous Revelry

Part I

Luigi Prov

CW/TW: Trauma, abuse, triggers on abuse, mentions on drowning/strangulation

You run your fingers through his greasy, tangled hair. Every time he goes on a mission, it seems he neglects basic bodily functions. The longer he’s off on one of his Merloo missions, the more worried you become. It brings you back to the days of the Castle, how he only seemed to eat when the other members were shoving food in his face at the required meetings. Even back then, his mask didn’t hide much from you. He had long given up before joining that group. It just frustrated you so much, he puts his own well being always being last on his list.

”Can you be more gentle?” He spoke very softly, but the voice cuts through the silence. His fragile, small body, leaning against the frame of the claw foot bathtub. It knots your stomach seeing him like this. Why did he always do this? Why was being away from you for any extended amount of time so collapsing to his mental state? Were you the only thing keeping him from self-destructing?

”Sorry. You really knotted your hair this time. I am trying my best to be gentle.” You reply softly, not wanting to cause him to jump and flee. This was close to being just as bad as when you found him almost dead in the deteriorating remains of Castle Bleck. Dimentio being caked in blood and dirt. You were hardly able to handle how much came off of him then, but even this was trying to match up to that day. Right now, the bath water was darker than your tan skin. You click your tongue, a Dio habit that you had seemed to pick up sometime throughout the course of living with him. Very glad that you had rolled up your sleeves above your elbows before even starting to wash him. And the water being this dirty before you even started to actually scrub his body! You click your tongue again in annoyance and frustration.

You knew Dimentio wanted to teleport away. Especially after he walked into the house. Well walked was even an understatement. He half floated, half dragged his feet across the threshold when he opened the door to your entrance. You swore he was going to collapse there in the entrance if you hadn’t been there to grab him and hold him with your own weight.

What shocked you more was the jester actually complained as you fondled him in worry, going down your own checklist in your head as you did so. First, checking him for injuries since he did have some blood caked on his clothes, and you weren’t sure if that blood was his or another’s. Which raised even more questions that you knew he wouldn’t divulge answers to you. So giving up on even prying into the matter, you scoop him up bridal style, and rush him up the stairs. Your lips placing kisses on his scars around his left eye, making sure to not miss a spot and to distract him from what you had planned ahead.

He started struggling in your grasp as you started running warm water in the tub of the finished guest room and declothed him. The caked on clothes were a pain to get off of his dirtied skin. Through the frustration of removing the clothes piece by piece, you confirmed at least most of the blood on his clothes were not his. Which did not lighten the feeling of comfort you wanted from his return, it concerned you more. Whose blood was this and did they deserve such injuries from him? But you shake your head, another series of questions you would not get answers to. You needed to get him clean before you would even get any chance to put food in his system. Let alone would your mind allow you to put him on the back burner and cook food when you knew he needed to be cleaned up right away.

The jester complained as you worked on completely bringing him down to his birthday suit, still double checking for any injuries that may need stitches or extra care. He complained to you until you submerged him into the warm bath water, that’s when his demeanor changed. He then held onto you as if his life depended on it. As if the water in the tub would drag him below the water's surface and take his last breath. You also knew if you looked away, he would quickly teleport away. And your goal to get him cleaned up would long be abandoned.

It takes you way too long to comb out the knots and grime out of his hair, but this makes you feel a bit better. Well, until you wrap your arm around him; your forearm resting across his chest and placing your hand under his armpit. It always takes you by surprise at how tiny he is, not just in height, but in size. Your body is giant compared to him. And you were use to being called “too skinny”, but even you didn’t complain to the man you held in your arms.

You lean forward, and with your free hand, you begin to drain the dirty water in the tub. You really needed to replace it with fresh, warm water. His body tenses at the water starting to run again to refill the tub. The jesters heart was beginning to race in a panic from this. You press him tighter to you, slowly soaking your own shirt. What good did you get from rolling up your sleeves to only press a wet twink to your chest. But still, you do not let him pull away, hoping that he can feel your heartbeat through the wool top. Yet you also hope that he doesn’t feel the Chaos Heart beating as well in your chest.

”I am NOT letting you go.” You whisper softly into his right ear, your mustache tickling it. Dimentio squirms in your grasp, fighting his own instincts to flee. Every nerve he had, you knew told him to get away quickly. You bring your lips to his ear, pecking it with a soft kiss. His body squirms more at his own signals being challenged. A challenge to fight staying and be adored by you or flee due to the rising water in this situation.

”I won’t let you drown.” You speak sternly to him, not sure if it was in assurance for you or him. You start to nibble on his ear, your free hand grabbing the washcloth and rinsing it under the spout.

You can feel his fingernails dig into your arm as the water rises above his hips. You wince at this, but start to scrub the dirt and grime off of his legs and feet. You take extra time on his swollen ankles in another attempt to calm him. Letting your hand through the wash cloth slowly message his swollen ankles to make sure he didn’t do more damage to them then what appeared on the surface. You find yourself at a loss when you run the washcloth over his ribs. Your stomach turns seeing the jester's ribs through his skin so easily that you could count every one of them. It upsets you so much that he is neglecting himself when he is away from you.

”Luigi.”

You grumble, tightening your grip, mumbling under your own breath. Why was he like this? Why was he so willing to throw his life away? So many cared for him. He had more worth than he thought or believe he had.

”Luigi!”

You can feel your own anger bubbling and building in your body.

No one.

No one.

Not even yourself. Not even in the dreamscape. Not even against the chaos heart, or even in your own dreams, were you willing to throw your life away so easily. A growl builds in your throat and comes out through your own words. “Why are you like this?”

“Lui!”

Thu-Thump…

You freeze up, your body stiffens at your own thoughts. Only Dimentio was ever able to rile up so much negative emotions in you. King boo wasn’t even able to do this to you.

“Lui-“

Thu-Thump.

You feel his fingernails claw at both of your arms now. Digging deep enough to draw blood.

Thu-THUMP.

The nails dig deeper and deeper into your arms, clawing down from your elbows to your hands. With what little nails the jester had left, were tearing at your arms. You knew he feared water, but this was ridiculous at how much he was trying to get out of being cleaned by you. You tighten your grip to this, growling loudly in frustration and anger at Dimentio.

THU-THUMP!

Water splashes onto your pants, snapping you out of your own thoughts. The buzzing sound in your ears is replaced with the sound of splashing. Your eyes widen in shock as you quickly pull your hands away from his neck. Your arms and hands dripping from blood from the number he did on you.

You watch him in worry and shock as the ancient quickly yanks himself from under the water's surface. Dimentio’s body was shaking uncontrollably from fear, coughing and gasping from the need of oxygen that deprived him. You were unsure of how long you had held him under, but the water he was coughing up said enough. His lungs were trying their hardest to clear the water that you had forced into them. The ancients eyes never leave your bloody, shaking hands.

No…

No.

No! You would never do that to him.

Never!

THU-THUMP!

You can hear the heart beating loudly in your ears and chest.

”I’m sorry Dio. I-It wasn’t me,” you stutter though a shaky voice, “I promise. It was th-“

You reach your shaking hands towards him in assurance. But the second you do, the familiar sounds of the jester teleporting away before you can even finish your explanation. Your eyes now staring at a bodiless bathtub full of fresh water, with swirls of red in it.

”C-Chaos H-Heart….” You finish, your voice trailing off to a soft whisper.

THU-Thump…

You let your arms drop to your sides in disbelief. The heart had found another opening, this time by your emotions. It had taken advantage of your emotional loophole, and went after what was the biggest threat to it. The one you loved…

It wasn’t you. You would never do that to him.

Never…

Never!

The image of Dio’s scared. No, scared was an understatement. He was terrified. And when you closed your eyes, that expression from Dimentio showed on the back of your eyelids. The bathtub overflowing, starting to soak your jeans and socks.

You needed to fix this. But could you even fix it? You stand, ignoring the tub overflowing and slowly flooding the bathroom. Your soaked socks splash in the water as you walk over to the sink, ignoring your own discomfort. You pick up the phone with shaky hands. You were having such trouble dialing the number correctly on the keypad, that you changed to your call list and clicked the forth or fifth recent call down.

You lift the cell to your ear and after a few rings you hear an ecstatic voice that didn’t match the feelings you were having right now.

”Gigi! It’s been a while. What-“

”Mimi. I fucked up badly. I need Nassy’s help, now. It’s too much to explain. Please…Please tell her it’s urgent.”

”That bad? I’ll get a hold of her ASAP. Keep your door unlocked Gigi. You better be ready to explain then.” You hear the phone click to Mimi hanging up and you drag yourself out of the bathroom. Your wet socks slush against the carpet of your guest room, and you force yourself down the steps. The house sounds oddly silent, except for the sound of what you believe is still the bathtub running. You must have forgotten to turn off the water, but you don’t seem to have the energy to bring yourself back up the stairs.

You bring yourself to the couch and work on removing your drenched socks. Your hands are shaking so badly that the simple task is more of a challenge than it should be. You discard your socks on the floor near you and you pull your legs up to you on the couch, making yourself as small as your body would allow you to.

You bring your eyes to your hands. Your hands rough with calusis from all the tinkering and hard work you did, middle class work. Though it had been a while since you had seen blood oozing from them. You shake your head.

His body was so small, so fragile. He was so easy to force under the water with your hands. It was even easier to wrap your fingers around his thin throat and start squeezing. He would have been easy to break, easy to finish off. You could snap him like the twig he was. Would anyone really miss him? Didn’t he deserve to be dead? He still attempted to go after IT. He still wanted to go after his original goal with the heart. He wasn’t a fighter, he was weak in that aspect. You could so easily break him, all you would have to do is grab his neck and snap it. He deserved that.

“Enough!” You yell to no one in particular, grabbing at your own greasy hair. Heck there were times you would have never fought those thoughts after everything he had put you through, but these thoughts weren’t your own. You growl at yourself for letting the heart dig into your thoughts and emotions over Dimentio. He confused you so much and had your emotions everywhere. You had anger towards him, frustration, confusion, annoyance, but most of all…you loved him.

Thu-Thump.

You grasp your shirt above your own heart. You couldn’t imagine a day without him anymore. You wanted to spoil him with affection that he was long deprived of. You wanted to show him what the world should have long given him. You so badly wanted to let him figure out what the true meaning of his emotions towards you were. Why did this relic have to be such a problem, and everyday you were losing more and more to it. You bite your bottom lip. You couldn’t lose to it, so many would fall if you lost. It would return to where it was taken from. It would reopen the void that you had worked so hard with your friends to close. If you could rip it out yourself and stop it from what it was made to do you would, but you were already told what that outcome would be.

A loud bang on the door causes you to jump from the couch, almost hitting your head on the ceiling from surprise. Only for the silence to be followed by the door slamming open before you can even take a step towards the entrance. The voice booming louder than the door hitting the wall or knocking combined.

“Ye here lad? We rush’t here as fas’ as we coud. Dimensoon stil’ a’ problem withoot tae wee yin crossin’ tae gap fir us.”

[moonearthangel]

Yay pretty energy today! - : Happy Solstice! <3

If you’re not experiencing pretty energy today, then make it! Happy Holidays! If you can’t make it pretty energy or if it’s just not, then do the best you can and find little joys or make small steps or efforts or gestures. Sometimes small is enough.

Small steps and progress or big steps and big happiness, small gestures or big gestures, where ever you’re at. Maybe bake something or bake two things or go buy something holiday baking themed if you’re celebrating? Or even if you’re not. You can experience multiple things at once without actually overthinking it or making problems where there isn’t. Sometimes it’s the people around you doing that. If the people aren’t you are who I just read for and about, then you detach and make little helping things where you can or choose to. Just make it a Merry Christmas!

If there’s drama or turmoil or chaos, identify where you’re at and why.

Maybe go on a diet and honor both things on the topic of baking! I know some people do and talk about New Year’s resolutions. So practice healthy moderation or go full out in whatever happy healthy way your heart and thoughts and body resonate with.

Maybe clean little things or clean a lot! Get things done while also managing what is dear to you and that may be rest and time and healthy healing living.

New perspectives are a theme!

New astrology portals are out there!

Things can be picked up or left behind today. You might find things you’ve lost or something new that means something to you.

Some people know or don’t know the right things to say. Do the best you can! Time is precious. If you’re into esoteric things and it’s your choice on that, time may move differently today for you according to the planets if you’re sensitive to it or an intuitive or medium. People may even be acting different around you!

Release any bad juju! Release any harsh feelings or bad patterns negative thoughts or patterns!

Invite in sun and invite in healthy living and release unhealthy thoughts like worries and understand Christmas in history and ancestry albeit not particularly always modern, does connect to spiritual things and beliefs. If you feel God and angels… remember what that means to you. Sometimes carry some weight and allow others to see that next year or the year after that.

Enjoy your days! Notice blessings and miracles :) You’re important and your time and energy is important and a miracle in and of itself, however consider who might need it today or this week! Do things to help yourself, or extend yourself and make loving risks and chances and choices! This time of year might be considered or taken value centered. What values might you feel peace and warmth about and what might you need to be the example of? Turning 11:11 so will close :) Be a good person and set a good example. Avoid those who aren’t.

[numinously-yours]

What to leave behind and what to bring into the new month

Happy last week of January! Pick a group for insights on what you should leave behind as the month ends and what you can focus on in the new month ahead. Let me know if you have any topics you'd like me to pull for!

My dear pile one,

It is time to let go of your need to do everything on your own. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or weighed down by your responsibilities – or what you think is your responsibility – try remembering that you’re not alone and there are people here to help carry the load. Allow others to help, even in small ways.

Personal growth and development may be a great focus point for you in the upcoming month. The Magician brings forth the tools and energy you need to make progress in this personal journey. Focus on your “why” and look inward at your power. This period of growth will last you throughout (and beyond) the month, so don’t get hard on yourself if you don’t see immediate results. Growth is not linear.

Hello lovely twos,

Rather than the Tower representing a destruction that has already happened/is currently happening, I think you’re being told to leave January with a bang (semi-literally), and create the destruction of your self-limiting beliefs. Light up some sticks of dynamite, rev up the bulldozer, or get that wrecking ball swinging cause we’re not going into the new month with any of our same thoughts. Your self-limiting beliefs have felt like a chaos storm in your brain, and this is your permission to let them go.

February is a month of self-exploration. It is a month to figure out why these self-limiting beliefs exist. This may be a good time to do some shadow work. Shadow work is tough, but I think some good realizations can come out of it. Here are some shadow work prompts if you’re ready to get started. You may find truths you didn’t know existed. Or you may find yourself answering just as you’d expect, but this time… it’s gonna hit different. You’re going to find answers for yourself which will put a lot into perspective and really help with letting go of your self-doubt.

For those who aren’t ready to dive deep into the darker parts of your soul (which is A-OK!), take a look at the resources at your fingertips. How can you align these resources with your goals? For example, do you have a goal to say nicer things to yourself each day? Make yourself a daily check list – add some normal items like “1 hour with no screen time” or “brush your teeth” and then add “say one good thing about yourself”. As you check of the easier items, you’ll see the tougher ones. And in an effort to make those check marks, you’ll get in the groove of participating in the hard tasks.

My pile three friends,

Teamwork and collaboration seems to have been a theme in January. Whether it be your new years resolution, a project at work, or homing in on a new habit, the foundation was set in this last month. I wouldn’t say you’re really leaving anything behind, but the creation stage is ending. You are moving forward into the stabilization and growth phases of this beautiful thing you’ve launched.

Bring this sense of accomplishment into February with you to start the month off strong. You’ve done really great work! One great way to keep momentum is a partnership between your higher self and the work you are doing. As you continue to build on the project you started think: what can I get out of this project personally and what can I bring to this project to ensure it thrives. You will feel better about the end results knowing that it made your heart happy and that you had something to do with its success.

To my pile fours,

You know what your higher self is trying to tell you. You know what your guides are hinting at. Maybe it seems too good to be true or it’s scary, but either way, you gotta get rid of the clouds you’re using as a way to doubt yourself. I know from experience that self-doubt speaks LOUD. It is MEAN. But it is soo worth getting past. It doesn’t mean it’ll go away for forever, but it sure can get quieter.

In this situation, “clarity” can be seen as the opposite of “cloudy” , and mental clarity is exactly what the King of Swords wants you to bring into/work on in the new month. You may not be ready to jump right into this new thing in February, but you can do the work this month to feel more confident when the time officially comes. Lay out the facts for yourself: I have done hard things in the past; I have the resources I need to be successful; I have people I know will support me when it gets difficult. And repeat these facts to yourself as much as you need to. As with pile two, you could do some shadow work to  bring clarity to why you feel this hesitancy to move forward.

[theright-sideofme]

Mate. C. San. [Part 1]

Werewolf!San x fem!reader WC: 3.7k Warnings: arranged marriage, mentions of past verbal abuse.let me know if i missed anything

series masterlist | main masterlist Next Part

As a child you were told stories about what lurked in the woods and why you were never to go in them alone. After all, “a young girl like you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself.” Those belittling words made you sick. You were very much capable of protecting yourself, you were just never allowed to. Your father made sure you stayed at home with your mother, learning how to become a “good wife” so he could wed you off as soon as possible. The old man was absolutely insufferable. Always commenting on how you were going to die alone if you kept up your stubborn antics, which only made you act up more. You didn’t want to be just someone's wife, you wanted to be your own person, with opinions that mattered and a voice that was heard, but that’s just not the life you were born into.

You remember the first time your father told you about the woods, it was around the same time you were beginning to realize your parents were utterly shit people. “Father, why can’t I go play in the woods?” “Those woods aren’t meant for little girls Y/n, it’s filled with all sorts of horrible monsters,” and that should’ve been enough to scare you, but it only intrigued you more. What type of monsters? What did they look like? Would they want to play with you? You were ready to bombard your father with all those questions, but the loud, whining howl cutting through the crisp morning air cut you off and had your father scrambling to get you inside. Ever since then you had felt drawn to the woods, a longing you felt in every fiber of you being. It was almost as if you were longing for a home you had never been to.

You sat outside, letting the sun warm skin as you leaned against the old oak tree in the garden, you felt at peace. This week had been hectic, lots of running around doing errands, getting ready for the arrival of a very well respected family. You were probably the least excited for their arrival, which was ironic seeing as you were probably going to be leaving with them. Their son had taken an interest in you at the king's annual Winter Ball and insisted that you be his wife. Even after turning him down on the spot, he was persistent. Eventually his father contacted yours and now they were on their way for a week of business talk regarding the arrangement of your soon to be engagement. You were sick, absolutely revolted at the thought of marrying this spoiled brat of a man who simply couldn’t take no for an answer.

Looking over to the woods, you sighed, wishing you could just run and just never stop. Run until you're so deep in the woods no one would ever be able to find you. What was really stopping you other than your father? Your own fears? No, it wasn’t that, you had more to fear at home than in the woods. The longer you thought about it, the more you realized nothing was holding you back other than the belief you couldn’t. Your entire life you were told you not to so you just believed you couldn’t, but in actuality there was nothing stoping you from standing up and walking right into the woods.

“Y/n!”--

-- Except your mothers shrieking scream of your names.

“Y/n where the hell are you! They’re going to be here any moment!” And your peace was broken. All thoughts of running off into the woods being pushed aside, deemed a silly escape fantasy as you stood up to go put your mothers worrying to rest.

--

“Where were you” Hongjoong asked, even though he already knew the answer. San had a bad habit of getting too close to town, almost being caught more times than the pack could count. But there was one manor in particular San loved visiting, the Y/l/n manor. A huge, beautiful house surrounded by acres of land that belonged to the most well respected family in the country. Hongjoong believed San had a death wish to be getting so close to a house that belonged to a family of that status. San’s excuse was he liked the thrill, which was partly true, but not the reason he visits said house almost everyday.

“Out” San shrugged his alpha off, walking right past him and into the kitchen. Hongjoong didn’t leave it at that, not this time. He was worried about San and what would happen to not only him but the rest of the pack if he got caught.

“You can’t keep going out there,” San scoffed, not even sparing Hongjoong a glance as he got himself some water. “I’m serious, you’re putting all of our lives in danger by going out there so often” “I know what I’m doing” “do you? Then enlighten me because I have no fucking clue why you would actively put your life at risk just to get a peak at that stupid house!” Hongjoong’s voiced boomed through the entire house, which caught the attention of the rest of their packmates who quickly came to the kitchen to see what was going on.

“You wouldn’t understand” San mumbled, feeling a bit more humbled after Hongjoong had used his alpha voice. Hongjoong very rarely used his alpha voice and when he did, it was terrifying. Everyone in the house could feel the fear in their bones when he did, along with an overwhelming urge to back off and obey their alpha. San was no different, feeling the immediate need to tuck tail and run after pissing Hongjoong off so much.

Hongjoong hated using his alpha voice. He never wanted any of his packmates to feel like he was ever unfairly using his alpha status against them, but he just couldn’t help it when it came to matters that involved the whole pack's safety. At first he was fine with letting San look around, sneak peaks at the town and the manor. He thought if he let him get all his curiosity out he would be fine and he wouldn’t need to go back again, but he was wrong. After his first time visiting the manor he immediately went back the next day, and the day after that and almost every day for the past three months, and Hongjoong was more than worried for what it meant for the pack if he was caught.

“Try me” the alpha offered, so angry but also so desperate to understand San’s apparent need to go back to the manor so often. He wanted to help out the younger boy while also keeping him safe. San averted his eyes to the ground as he took in a shaky breath. “I saw my mate.” His voice was so quiet anyone with normal hearing would’ve missed it, but in the house full of werewolves, everyone heard it.

Absolute chaos broke out among the pack, everyone shouting questions at San about how he knew and what it was like. Words jumbled up together as everyone fought to get their question answered and to understand what having a mate was like. They all knew they had mates, every werewolf did, but San was the first in the pack to actually meet- well, see, his. Hongjoong stood with an indecipherable look on his face that made San uneasy.

“I-I know it’s dangerous for me to keep going there so often. I’ll start going less! I just- I need to see her, it’s the best thing I have since I can’t be with her.” San felt his heart break at his own words. He’d never admitted that to himself out loud and hearing those words leave his lips made him want to crawl into a hole and die, but it was the truth. San knew there was no way he was going to be able to be with you, you were the daughter of a highly respected lord, and from what he heard from the servants today, you were soon to be engaged. It was a cruel joke fate had decided to play on him.

“What do you mean you can’t be with her'' Mingi asked from behind Hongjoong, him and the rest of the pack slowly making their way fully into the kitchen. “She’s lady Y/l’n, daughter of the highly respected Lord Y/l/n” San’s words left his lips with a certain type of sadness that made the rest of his pack members feel for him. They couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to find your mate and know you can’t be with them.

“San-” “please, no pity. I’ll be good, I promise” and despite his airy tone, the look in his eyes gave away how much he was really hurt. “Just, be careful when you go” was all Hongjoong said, not wanting to press him anymore.

--

It was another day of trying desperately to avoid every living soul who currently resided inside your families manor. You felt overwhelmed these past couple of days with everyone talking so warmly about the now settled engagement. Your father was more than happy to wed you off and your intolerable fiance just wouldn’t leave you alone. You could never find a moment alone, and moment to breath. But now, alone in your garden under your oak tree, you were calm. There was no one trying to remind you to keep up your perfect little image, no fiance rambling on about how excited he was to get you into bed on your wedding night, no father reminding you how lucky you were someone actually wanted to deal with you for once, it was just you and your tree.

Not too far away from you in the woods, unbeknownst to you, stood San. He kept an attentive eye on you, admiring you effortless beauty with total awe. There was a pang in his chest as he remembered his words from a few days prior, “- since I can’t be with her.” God it hurt. All he wanted was to hold you in his arms and protect you from everything evil and bad in this world. He wanted to shower you with affection and feel pride in his chest just from knowing you were all his, but you weren’t.

Almost as if you could feel his longing gaze on you, you looked up into the woods, head cocked to the side in thought. San was ready to duck down and hide, but then your eyes locked with his, and he was frozen, both of you were. You knew you should’ve been scared, you should’ve ran inside screaming for your guards, but you didn’t, you simply stared. You didn’t feel off put or uneasy by his presence, you almost felt comforted, as weird as it sounds.

San on the other hand was a total wreck, his heart beating out of his chest, sweat building up on the bone of his brow. He had no idea what to do, if he should do anything at all. And despite how scared he was of getting caught and potentially putting his whole pack at risk, he was happy to be able to see your face clearly. The calling of your name snapped both of you out of your little trances, San quickly ducking down, and you turning to see who was calling you. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you” you fiance said as he quickly made his way over to you. “Your mother wanted me to come get you for dinner” you simply nodded, pushing yourself up off the ground, not expecting your fiance to pull you up by your waist. The sudden action had San growling from behind his tree, watching the man with absolute hatred in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing” you asked, quickly pushing his hands off of you. “I was helping you up” “I don’t need your help” “Stop being so stubborn, we’re going to be married soon, you’re going to need to get used to me touching you” “touching me?” “Yes, last time I checked sex involves-” A loud smack echoed through the garden. He stood there for several moments, shocked, trying to assess if that really just happened. “Our engagement gives you no right to touch or talk to me however you so please, do I make myself clear.” Your fiance looked back at you with a darkness you’ve only ever seen from your father. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I am the man in this relationship. You are the woman. My women, my bitch-”

Your fiancé was cut off by a large, sandy wolf jumping in between the two of you. Startled you jumped back, your back now firmly against the tree as you watch the wolf snap and snarl at your fiancé.

You were more shocked than anything, looking at where the sandy colored wolf came from, realizing it was the same place you had just seen that man standing not too long ago. You quickly turned your head back to the wolf and stared in awe. It was huge, much larger than any house dog you had seen before.

Your fiance was soon calling out for the guards which promptly broke you out of your awestruck state. “You have to go, now!” You yelled at the wolf, gently tugging on its fur, which in any other case would’ve gotten your hand bit off. The sound of boots pounding against the floor started getting louder and you were getting more anxious. Not having time to think about why you wanted to save this wolf so badly, you quickly made your way in front of it and started pushing it back. “Go, now!”

San looked up at you, his the red fading from his vision as he stared at your face. However, he didn’t get to look long as the sound of boots soon reached his ears as well. Sparing you one last glance, he turned around and sprinted back into the woods.

“What is it, what happened my lord?” One of the guards asked as soon as they had reached the two of you. “W-Wolf! There was a wolf right there! It nearly tore me to shreds!” Your fiance began to ramble on, the longer he went on, the more the guards looked unsure of his words. “My lady, did you see the wolf?” “Of course she did, it was-” “no, I never saw a wolf.” Your fiance looked at you in total disbelief, but you remained with the same stoic face. The guards simply told our fiance there was nothing they could do since the wolf wasn’t there and led the two of you inside.

The entire diner your thoughts were full of that strange man, who you were certain turned into that wolf. It had to be him, there was no other explanation as to how that wolf got there that fast. Why was he there? Why did he protect you? Why did he make you feel so safe? Those questions lingered in your brain the entire night.

--

San thought it would be best to stay away for a while after the incident. He didn’t want to risk getting caught in case they were on high alert. So he stayed home, pacing in his room, running circles around the house, roughhousing with his pack mates, pretty much anything to keep him mind off you. It was harder than he thought, especially after being the closest he’s ever been to you, he longed to be that close again.

“San, you need to slow down-” “I’m fine” he responded in a short yell right before turning into his wolf form to go for a run. Seonghwa let out an exasperated sigh as he watched San disappear off into the trees that surrounded their house. “Is he gonna be okay” Wooyoung asked from behind Seonghwa, both of their eyes trained on where the sandy wolf just disappeared. “He’ll be fine” Seonghwa tried to reassure, but it was obvious that even he didn’t know.

You, however, were handling things differently. You had left your family's manor. Year after year you longed to leave and disappear into the woods and all it took was a strange man who you felt oddly connected to for you to actually do it. Why were you so drawn to this man? You didn’t know, all you knew was you needed to find him.

You were running as fast as you could to get as far as possible from your family’s manor. They were going to come looking for you, you knew that much. So the more distance you could put in between you and them the better. As you were running you could barely feel the burning in your lungs or ache of your legs, but rather the wind against your skin and the overwhelming feeling of being free.

You were free.

You weren’t tied down to your wretched family who only cared about selling you like cattle or the rules all of the entailed. No, not anymore. It was like the chains had broken and your cell door was left wide open, and you were free.

--

San felt different. He was more anxious than he had been the past couple of days, but in a good way. He had no idea what had changed or why he was feeling this way. He didn’t care. All he knew was if he didn’t get out his pent up energy he was going to explode. So out the door he went, ignoring the calls of his packmates and disappearing into the trees.

He ran and ran, enjoying the rush of the wind flowing freely through his fur as he let this light hearted feeling wash over him. He was so caught up in the feeling of running, he hadn't noticed his body had gone in auto pilot, leading him astray from his normal path and deeper into the woods to a place he had never been- a clearing.

There was a crystal blue lake shining like a glittering star in the moonlight. Lily pads were scattered across the smooth surface and flowers bloomed beautifully all around the edges. San hadn’t noticed any of it though. As soon as he entered the clearing his eyes were drawn to a figure sitting on the edge of the lake. And as if you sensed his presence, you looked up and smiled.

“Well hello there.” San’s heart swelled at the sound of your voice and he could’ve sworn his eyes were the personification literal of heart eyes. Your smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, it was warm and inviting and everything he imagined home would feel like. One half of him wanted to scold you for being out here alone where you could get hurt, the other half wanted to run up to you and nuzzle into your side and let you run your fingers through his fur. He opted for the unspoken third option, slowly approaching you, watching you closely for any fear or discomfort, but he saw none. You looked oddly calm for someone who was now face to face with a giant werewolf.

“Why do I feel so connected to you?” You mused aloud with a cocked head as you scanned his face before staring into his eyes. The raw curiosity in your eyes was something of mirrored pure innocence.

San couldn’t answer, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was in his wolf form and he would rather not shift back in front of you. He figured this would be a conversation better with clothes on. So instead of answering, he nudged you till you were next to his back and then lowered himself to the ground, urging you to get on, and you did.

--

When you reached San’s house, you didn’t feel uncomfortable or out of place. You felt oddly calm, and it was starting to annoy you with how okay you were when it came to anything relating to this strange man. You should be running for the hills, calling the guards and wanting nothing to do with him. San lowered himself enough so you could get off his back and led you to the front door.

“San! I swear to- oh.” The man who was just yelling froze and just stared at you in shock, all of his prior thoughts gone. San noticed how you moved closer to him when Seonghwa had come out, your hands subconsciously reaching out for him and he felt like his heart could burst.

San simply looked up at the elder boy who seemed to understand what San wanted from him.���Um, hi. I’m Seonghwa. Let me get you something to drink while San gets changed.” You looked at San who simply nudged you forward. “That would be nice, thank you.”

You and Seonghwa sat in the kitchen just talking. You thought there would be some sort of awkward silence between the two of you, but in all honesty he was very easy to get along with. He asked you about your family and never pushed you to answer when you were feeling uncomfortable. He even made you a sweet honey rose tea that you fell in love with.

The two of you didn’t talk long though because San had rushed to shift back and get dressed so he could talk to you. San all but bursted into the kitchen, his lovestruck eyes landing on you in an instant. “I- wow, hi.” You couldn’t help but giggle at how cute he was. “Hi.”

Seonghwa sat there for a moment longer, watching as his younger friend looked at you with absolute adoration and how you met his gaze back with a sweet, caring smile. He thought the two of you looked like little lovesick puppies and you barely knew each other. Shaking his head with a smile, he made his way out of the kitchen to give you two some privacy, patting San on the back as he left.

“So, I’m a werewolf” “nice to meet you werewolf” “I- what no! I’m San! My name is San. Sorry, I’m kinda nervous.” You let out a soft laugh, the sound putting all San’s nerves at ease. You stood up so that you were now in front of him, holding your hand out for him to take. “Nice to meet you San, I’m Y/n.”

—

taglist: @itsyaapollochild

[sleepylixie]

The Gumiho God-King (Bang Chan)

\\ 구미호/Gumiho is a Korean folk legend of a nine-tailed fox. It is said to have magical shapeshifting abilities, a knack for mischief and an almost seductive nature in some legends. The Korean gumiho is believed to have similar characteristics to the Chinese huli jing and Japanese kitsune.//   

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: A bit of Angst, a bit of warm fun, a lotta Supernatural

Warnings:  Betrayal, mentions of stabbing, blood and attempted murder. NOT EXPLICIT AT ALL.

A/N: The GO LIVE poster had me feeling some kind of way, with that hanbok and that eye scar and the double coloured eyes.. Chan makes me feel some type of way all the time, eh well. To be clear, I’ve taken some liberties with the historical and mythological details of it all- This is entirely a work of fiction so please don’t come for me T_T  ( @rebecca-noona you said you’d want to read it if I ever actually wrote it so >.<)

Requests Open for SKZ and BTS! || Masterlist

//He was the first prince of the Goryeo dynasty, the first son of a king who rose from a bloody past to set the foundations of a dynasty that lasted almost half a century, the inheritor of a new world- until suddenly he was nothing at all.\\

Prince Bang Chan was the doted-upon son of the Queen mother’s undivided attention, the apple of the emperor’s eye, the beloved young royal of the palace and the country he would one day grow to rule. 

He grew up unconfined, learning more from the wild outdoors than the teachings that his father’s brood of scholars could try to impart. He’d sneak out of the palace at the early hours of the night, climbing the highest trees in the grove beyond the western gate and watch the falling of the night’s moon. 

People watching fascinated him- he’d wander the crowded marketplace with guards in disguise, watching the uncountable faces betray and hide emotion as they passed by. 

Chan, the name the palace fondly called him, was as quick on his feet as he was with his mind. Sword fighting, archery and wrestling came to him easily and so, when he was of age, he left his home to fight wars with his people. 

The war taught Chan even more- everything that was wrong with his country. The festering politics, the blatant bias and nepotism, the plight of the downtrodden left an effect on him, a fire to fight the injustices his people faced.

Determined to make a change, he rose through the army’s ranks, commanding respect, trust and power because of his seemingly endless skills. There was not one soul, general or soldier, who was immune to the Crown Prince’s incredible charm.

He took lovers almost as easily with that exact charm- He’d grown up well, the young Crown Prince. Along with the mysterious dark eyes, sensuous lips and broad shoulders, he brought wit honed like the gold-hilted dagger he always kept on his person.

Maybe it all worked too well, for the love he received from the world brought him enemies who were not happy with the changes that the headstrong, quick-witted young prince could bring to the country and the court- the foremost of them being his younger brother, the 2nd prince.

Chan was posted in the particularly volatile western border, it wasn’t too difficult for the 2nd prince and the prime minister to arrange for an accident in the melee that ended with Chan stabbed in the heart and left in a copse of bamboo trees to bleed to death.

It was the entirety of a heartbroken army that sent a message back to the Goryeo capital, mourning the loss of the beloved Crown Prince who had his whole life and ascension ahead of him. Little did they know the betrayal that had brought them to that day. 

If only Chan had died that night, his own gold dagger in his heart and his blood in his mouth. 

//

It was Autumn’s Eve. The full moon night and the spiritual significance of the day brought together the elusive Gumiho clans every year, at a spot not too far off from where Chan’s almost dead body lay. 

The scent of blood brought one particular young Gumiho named Jihyo to the bamboo copse and to the armored, bloody of the crown prince. It didn’t take even a second of thought for her to notice the goodness and the streak of willfulness in him. 

Jihyo decided to give him part of her magic, healing Chan and effectively turning into a Gumiho himself. Contrary to the mortals’ beliefs, the gumiho was a race of benevolent, if not slightly fun loving half-humans with supernatural powers.

Maybe it was the strength his body and mind held or just sheer luck, but Chan survived the worst, biding through his injuries under the care of Jihyo’s Gumiho clan. He took days to recover even otherwise, his body still accepting the new magic that ran through his veins. 

Chan awoke 2 weeks later in a whole new world from the one he closed his eyes on- eyes that were now one blue, one black. He was no longer a crown prince, no longer a royal, no longer entirely even human. 

It was all too new for him, too shocking, to be something that he had believed to be figments of bedtime stories until then. It was almost impossible for him to look at the back of a shiny copper plate and see the fox-like tilt to his eyes, the sharp tips of his ears, the canines looking slightly longer than before.

The weight of the tails near his tailbone left him imbalanced and struggling to walk for days after he woke up, even more before he could understand his new magic enough to hide them. 

Jihyo and her Gumiho clan watched the vigour with which Chan’s strength came back to him, the willful streak pushing him to learn more about his new form; it was almost like he was pushing himself to the limit, to some goal that he wasn’t ready to voice aloud. 

Chan did have a goal: To get back to his old life as fast as possible. It didn’t matter that he’d have to expend his magic to keep a pretense alive for the rest of his now immortal life, he had too much to go back for. 

“You shouldn’t go back,”Jihyo reasoned with Chan. “Mortals aren’t very.. accepting if they find out about our true forms.”

and she was met with a glint in his eyes and found herself levelled with a gaze that belonged to a future king, the jilted leader of a bloody empire.

 “It will kill me if I didn’t try.”

And try he did- the guards fainted when they set eyes on him. What else would they do, when the crown prince they’d mourned for weeks suddenly appeared, beyond hale and hearty in the dead of night? 

His mother welcomed his back with tears in her eyes, already looking years older in the few months he had been away. 

Before he could meet his father who’d been sent to his deathbed, he was stopped by the same person who had put him in this plight. The second prince, his own brother sneered at him, asking him what black magic he’d used to survive the dagger he’d poisoned himself.

The shock ravaging Chan’s system almost made him lose control over his carefully constructed mask. In the seconds of him processing the betrayal, the 2nd prince drew his sword on Chan, leaving him no option but to retaliate, the military training over the years kicking in. 

A fierce tango ensued and soon, they found themselves with locked blades, snarling in each others faces, until his younger brother uttered the most atrocious sentence. 

“The throne will be mine, brother. I even poisoned our father for this.”

The snarl of pure rage that rippled from Chan’s throat had his magic exploding outwards, destroying his human face and throwing his brother backward. 

The terror that chilled the 2nd Prince’s spine at the sight of the Crown Prince growling at him with double colored eyes and fangs had him screaming for the guards. 

and chaos ensued. 

It was a miracle Chan even got out alive, as injured and broken as he was. 

It was all too much for him, the hope he had for being a change in the world melting away with the realization that he was too late, humanity was too far gone already, that he would never be part of that world again. 

He found his way back to Jihyo and her clan who accepted him with open arms, allowing him to find solace in the company of souls who had felt the same as him in their past. 

The clan healer’s magic was enough to remove any scars that his injuries could leave, but Chan asked for one to not be touched- a single wound that swiped a thin red line down his left eye, cutting through his eyebrow and stopping just below his eye.

It would serve as a reminder of everything he’d faced and lost as a mortal, and an assurance that he’d never allow that kind of ice-cold corruption to mar the society he was now a part of.

//

Now almost 900 years old, Chan holds a position of power in the supernatural world, not too different from the one he was meant to hold all those centuries ago as a mortal. 

Everybody knows the story of the Gumiho King from a forgotten era, a cautionary tale for the evil and a legend for the downtrodden, a half-mortal with a moral compass that would never stray from the light. 

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home

Chapter One: Almost Heaven

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"When this is over, I'm going to be waiting for you. You'd better show up."

Those confident words felt hollow, moot. A disguised plea to the universe that she could accomplish the impossible. A prayer to return to the arms that were home.

That was before the searing burns, the blood, and the pain that struck with each beat of her heart. Oh god, the blood was everywhere. Each blink was a calculated risk as the blood threatened to cloud her vision; it meant having to stop find a clean - clean enough- patch of skin to push the liquid from her eyes. Each moment of pause tempted her body with respite, a siren's call for her failing body to expire.

Shepard had to keep moving.

To keep fighting.

They were waiting for her.

He was waiting for her.

"You'd better show up, Alenko. I'm dying here, don't make me die here." They would have been words if she could manage the strength to speak them. Instead, it became a silent anthem. A memento of strength, hope, anything to make her scraped, bruised, and battered body move against the tide of her fading consciousness.

It kicked back.

Eeeee, high-pitched electric screaming flooded her headspace,  eeeee, her head swam and pulsed. The jerking motions of her head frivolously searching for the illusory flashbang was only damaging to her weakened state and sending her swirling vision into a nauseating torrent of colors and light.

Mary knew she was a corpse walking. There was no way she could keep moving, yet she did. Tripping, stumbling, and blundering her way through the unrecognizable streets and buildings of what she assumed was London. The warmth of the smashed bits of Crucible fueling her away from what was a ticking time bomb.

But she wasn't moving fast enough, and she was too weak, too fragile to continue. A clumsy boot caught the upturned slab of road, and down she went. Crying out as her knees absorbed the blow, her elbows proving to be poor breaks as her form collapsed against the warm concrete. This wasn't right. She wasn't meant to die pathetically watching the blood pool and congeal around from her mouth like a drooling child. She wasn't supposed to be alone. Left without her squad, her friends, Kaidan...her home. She, if anywhere, was meant to die atop the burning Crucible... Dying like a hero, not out like a person forgotten...left behind.

What she would give not to be alone, to have someone's hand to grasp as she slipped away into the beyond.

Where the fuck was Alenko?

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The glow of the blue light was comforting, illuminating but not to the point of brightness. She had succeeded in swallowing the first wave of panic that hit her nervous system, using the time to instead survey the room. It was empty, but there were visible signs of another living in the room- a cot lazily angled at the corner nearest her, the space sectioned off by a small table. Enough room to work with, but intended to give her a little bit of distance without cornering her.

Her armour rested in the opposite corner of the room, cleaned to whatever degree it was worthwhile. The set was junk- most of it bubbled and charred in whatever miracle brought her back to Earth. It was good enough to last another fight or two if it had to. Nothing remained of the color or scores from battles that had marred the pieces into something she recognized. Now, the weapon left on the table was blessedly pristine. Well, besides the old wear and tear left from months of battle. But her faithful Paladin had yet to let her down. The dog tags left at the bedside spiked shame, an emotion Mary was not ready to process.

Her head was tender, but that was the only physical complaint on her list. Outstretching her arm to inspect that area for more injuries and to test her field of vision. It seemed in order, even clearer than she was expecting. To test her theory, her hands explored the planes of her exposed scalp. Not even the most delicate fuzz had resurfaced. Mary bit back a scream willing her apathy to wash over her in a numbing blanket. It was only hair- it would grow back.

"I do apologize for shaving you," The voice interrupted her from the soliloquies that must have lasted much longer than the Commander had realized, "it was terribly singed."

"I had meant to change it for years anyway," the Commander dismissed.

The older woman ignored her remark, taking a seat near her feet, "you're THE Commander Shepard, aren't you?"

"That is a safe assumption," pulling herself to sit upright with her words.

"It's hard to tell without your red hair and that eye can-." the woman stopped, her demeanor turning from happiness to grief quickly, "honestly, it was the dog tags."

Years of well-intended crap through the military had spurred the change in hair color. Rather than being the dumb blonde, she could be the feisty redhead, which she had liked much better. People took her more seriously with red hair, and once she had reached Spectre status, the look had become her signature. None of her crew, even Kaidan, knew the original color of her hair. It was never a huge secret, just something that was now a part of her. Saving the world didn't allow all those little things to come to light. Or time to consider a change in appearance. Even Cereberus had found reason to keep up the ruse.

"I have to ask a favor," the woman's voice wavered, "I used most of my medigel. You're a hero-"

"When you put it like that, how could I say no?" Shepard gently teased.

Saddened beyond belief when the soft clearing of Kaidan's throat did not accompany her uncouth answer. But Mary had caught the slip of a tear from the woman; her eyes took in a deeper study of the room. A teddy bear lying in the middle of the room seemed less and less out of place. The woman's motivations became obvious.

"Well, let me start from the beginning." Or course she would. "After the Reapers attacked Earth, things have not been easy. I was the supply manager for a local hospital, so I knew where all of the medical equipment was. It kept me safe, but at a cost. When I found you, I was meant to deliver medigel to a gang of-" The woman searched for a suitable word.

"Raiders? Thugs? Ruffians?" It wasn't hard to guess.

"Yes, but I saw you. And, and I had to help you. Especially when I saw your tags, you," her voice stuttered into a soft coo, "saved everyone. I couldn't let you..."

"I don't see why you need my help," she stated, peppered with a cross tone the anger an unfamiliar bitter taste in her mouth; it didn't belong here.

"They took my son because I couldn't deliver, and now...now," the woman finished with a flurry of tears.

"How long ago?"

"Two days," the woman sobbed.

"Fuck," Shepard hissed, ambling from her cot, "we have to leave now."

Eyeing her armour then the woman and another pistol shoved haphazardly under the covers of the larger cot. Civilians did not belong in a firefight, but against forces she was unsure of, she had to take any help. Testing the fabric bunched around her arm with a sigh, she looked at the woman.

"Get in my armour, and grab that gun."

The woman balked, looking up to her in the empty and hopeless way. Without another word, Shepard placed the bear within the Mother's arms.

"I'll get you both out."

The march to the Raider hideout was a short one. Easy. Shepard was glad to find that her breathing and movements were unhindered without any unusual stings of pain. The woman following her had also proved adept at following instructions; luckily for them both, the months of lean allowed her to fit into her armour comfortably. A few inquiries later, she found the woman to be the same age as her, and the child was barely eight years old. She lost her husband in the chaos of the Reaper attacks, for all that mattered to the mission presented, but it stopped the woman from dramatics. Shaky emotions did not lead to straight shots.

But even talk of the lady's child soon fell to the side as the hideout loomed closer. Shepard could not shake the feeling of dread that hounded her. This was risky, and her health questions pushed at her, doubts consuming her usually clear battle state. But retreating was not an option, and it was not in her nature to abandon the person who had saved her, even if it was a suicide mission.

Four lookouts taken down silently later had not managed to ease her nerves. The options were down to one of two doors; testing either for locks was pointless; they would be caught at that point. So it would have to be hard and fast. Unfortunately, that was difficult when she was utterly blind to the layout of the room. Where was her son in the room? How many? What kind of fortifications? All crucial questions without answers. With no reliable source to watch her back.

"Look, we have to storm the door. Stay behind me at all times; I can use barriers to shield myself," but now came an essential part; Shepard made sure to look her square in the eyes, "I'm already going in blind; I cannot watch you. So stay on my six. No. Matter. What."

The woman nodded. Mary pat her shoulder, putting on the brightest smile she could manage, "you have my armour, a trusty sidearm- you can do this. Just stay calm."

She slipped the dog tags around the woman's neck.

Shepard moved toward the closest door, carefully placing each step so that a stray piece of rubble or siding would not alert the enemy to their presence. Sidestep, sidestep, sidestep, and the familiar tingling of the energy field pooling around her. The droplet of red absorbing into the fabric covering her chest went unnoticed. Three fingers in the air for five seconds, each finger went down with the space of one second between them.

Luckily, the door was unlocked.

One bullet took down the man watching the door. As that man fell, Shepard blasted into the building, taking a quick tactical appraisal of the building. It was almost pathetic; they were stationed in one large and open room. The child was in the far corner of the chamber, silent and looking glassy-eyed. The other men clustered around the table at the opposite end of the room; well were huddled, they all scattered for their weapon. Shepard's next move would make it difficult for the woman beside her to keep up, but she had no choice in the matter. She had to strike while they were still grouped.

Tendrils of energy snaked at lightning speed through her body, pulling the combined biotic energy into the mass of her chest. Their table was close enough not to merit a full charge at the men who were now her targets. Running would get her there quickly enough. Additionally, her barriers were still full. If she could manage to decimate the men all at once, this would be over without the loss of more thermal clips. She wouldn't need to worry about keeping up a barrier either. It was simple.

Release coiled from her core outwards. It was sweet as any orgasm. Tingling and electrifying in one move, though the heat was quite different. It burned through the Raiders, engulfing each before they could manage to scream. The table was gone, submerged in the same Nova of energy. Shepard slipped to the floor, sated, drained, and head pounding as blood dribbled from her nose.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Who's that, mum?"

"Don't be rude," she admonished with another kiss to his forehead, "it's Commander Shepard."

"She's staring at me."

The Commander was the rude figure in the room, and her eyes stopped on the child. Her body seized in fear. The blue eyes and sandy brown hair the visage that had haunted her sleep. Mary's vision turned red, the beacon's first assaulting visions filling her mental space. Her foot retreated, backing herself into the wall, her head suddenly slurring back into a splash of colors.

The silent room then crashed into oblivion. Neither of the entrances barricaded, and the front door remained unlocked. Shepard had enough time to roll out from being on her side -had she laid down?- before the ten more men filed into the room. Each carrying an assault rifle that was primed and loaded. Groggily she moved to her feet, needing the wall as support.

"It's the bitch with the supplies!" shouted the first man to survey the room, "and some friend she dragged along."

He didn't seem to mind the smoldering piles left behind from the corpses of his men. But the next man, taller and burlier than the rest, frowned deeply. His steps were more confident, more decisive.

"'The fuck happened?" The question directed toward the woman who placed herself in front of her son. The struggling Shepard dressed in civilian clothes wasn't on his radar.

The female quaked, unable to speak.

The large man grew tired of her silence. The smoldering bullet hole through her skull glowed as her body fell limp, the body of her son fell in line behind it. Now, Shepard was on his radar.

The female scrapped at the wall, blue energy congealing beneath her fingertips as they dug into the wall. Tears forming in her sky blue eyes. No words, just horror. Mouth clamped shut to suppress any reaction, anything to give her away.

Clip, clip, clip. The man stood before her, studying the shrinking female before him with disdain.

"What do you boys think?" his hand tightened around her neck as he lifted the Commander with ease "think this bleeding freak was responsible?" The still-hot barrel seared into the side of her skull

He would never get an answer; the person he held aloft glowed the last blue he would ever behold. Carrying his folded body with her as she trucked for the gaggle of men that stood across the room. Barriers refilled, and the devastating Nova swallowed each of the bastards into the azure wave of energy. If only it could swallow her too, but it didn't...Fate left her kneeling on the floor, alone again.

But now, she could scream. Alone, she could cry without shame. Blue tendrils wavered from her body. Illuminating the darkening room around her. Each shout fanning the blue flames with renewed vigor. Scorching the remaining biological and flammable material left in the room the scent of burning flesh drowning the room.

Where was the Normandy? Why was she still here? Shepard didn't belong here; Shepard was nothing without her crew. Nothing, pointless, useless. She couldn't even protect these civilians against these simple thugs. That wasn't who Shepard was; she didn't lose. Shepard didn't feel weak or have her ears explode on even the slightest provocation of her biotic powers. She sure as hell did not shudder as the thumping of gunfire surrounded her location.

What was the point of fighting? What could she defend? She couldn't save two civilians, couldn't save an entire galaxy. Shepard had failed. Was a failure.

In yet another cloud of judgment, the door whirred open. Engulfing the entire room in bright daylight blinding Mary from counting the targets coming through the door. It was a rookie mistake, and on top of expending all her energy on a naive temper tantrum, left her with limited options to defend herself.

But why should she?

She was exhausted.

Spent.

Empty.

Alone.

With gumption foreign or encouraged by lack of coherence from bloodloss, Shepard bull-rushed headfirst at the door and the person blocking her exit. The first shot fired over the leader's shoulder, the second absorbed by shielding, and the third went wide as the weapon flew from her grip. The Paladin clattered to a location somewhere behind her. The Commander fell to her knees quickly after it.

"If you had any balls, you'd shoot me now," it was a plea, not a challenge.

The second gentlest set of brown eyes caught her before she wrenched her attention away.

"Get up, Soldier," the graveled voice ordered gently.

Shepard struggled to her feet, completing the order. But the strain of following such a command came at a price. Staggering drunkenly, she collapsed into the hard encasing of his blue and white striped armour.

[sunlightdances]

Through Lines (40′s!Bucky x Reader)

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Nurse!Reader Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for war-typical violence and descriptions of PTSD. Summary: WW2 canon-divergent AU - Bucky lives. One of the things Bucky thinks about when he’s trapped in a foxhole and trying to stay alive is the pretty nurse from the Red Cross. Author’s Note: I re-watched Band of Brothers recently, so this popped into my head. Please excuse any inaccuracies/suspend your belief briefly - I did my best with a bit of research, but obviously some of this is OOC/not canon. I don’t own Bucky or Marvel (or the character cameo who is clearly from HBO War). Please don’t re-post anywhere without my permission!

You meet James Barnes for the first time while you’re packing a Red Cross truck in England, hair neatly curled and pinned, lips painted a fiery shade of red.

It’s easy, then, for you to flash him a smile as he removes his garrison cap, tucking it neatly into his waistband as he approaches you.

“Ma’am,” he greets, and even though you think he’s about the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, you still bristle a bit.

“It’s Lieutenant.” You say, returning to your work. You know he likely didn’t mean anything by it, but ever since you shipped out, you’ve found yourself defending your rank and training more than once.

He clears his throat. “Lieutenant,” he corrects himself, and even salutes you. It surprises you. You return his gesture. “Just wanted to see if you needed a hand.”

You falter, and smile gently at him. “I’m sorry for snapping. It’s been a long day.”

“Moving out tomorrow?”

You nod. “To France, to one of the field hospitals.” You can see the concern in his eyes, and it makes you roll yours. “We’re trained just as you are, Sergeant. The men need help.”

He puts his hands in his pockets. “They’ll be happy to see you, no doubt.” He rocks on his feet. You realize how young he is, how young you both are.

The next time the two of you see each other, it’s nowhere near as formal, or casual.

The sunshine of that day in England is a distant memory compared to this. It’s raining and the sound of shelling not far off has you gritting your teeth.

The flap of the tent flies open with a rush of noise — a familiar voice and steel blue eyes that you both hoped you’d see again, and prayed you never would. He’s with a medic, a stretcher between them.

“Here—“ you say before he even opens his mouth. “Put him here.”

The medic is rattling off information - shrapnel to the stomach and leg, given morphine.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you bark, snapping him out of his daze. “If you’re not going to help, then you need to get out of the way.”

He moves so you can get to work, but stays close, and you notice with a jolt when he takes the hand of the man you’re working on, squeezing gently.

He doesn’t make it.

You’re so frustrated you can barely speak. Every time you lose someone, it’s a burning ache that settles deep in your heart. No matter how bad off they are when they come to the hospital, you feel the guilt of not being able to do your job.

“You did everything you could.” He says next to you, outside the tent, cigarette dangling from his lips.

You don’t reply. There’s nothing to say. You won’t cry - you can’t allow yourself to cry. If you break down now, you might never get your composure back.

The shelling begins again, and a jeep pulls up nearby, someone shouting for Sergeant Barnes. You try not to notice the way his hand starts to shake as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the ground and stamping it out before he goes.

“Take care of yourself,” he murmurs, and then with a weak salute, he’s gone.

.

.

Bucky Barnes is a romantic at heart. He pictured seeing you again back at some pub in England on leave, in his dress uniform, you in a red dress. When he was at his darkest point, he pictured it, and that’s why it’s so unfair that he’s seeing you again now, like this.

It’s been six months. France, and then Belgium, and then Italy, and whatever hell came after that. He’s grateful he doesn’t remember the entire thing. Azzano was like nothing he ever thought could happen to him - something from a science fiction novel.

His unit is completely gone. Every one of the men he trained with, fought with, shared a foxhole with… they’re all gone.

Steve is here now, something that should make him relieved, but all it does is add to his never-ending bad mood. His best friend, his brother, literally charging into harm’s way every chance he gets. Except now it’s not just back alley fist fights. There are bullets and fire and mortars, and Bucky doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

It’s bad enough that they’re hot on Hydra’s trail - a shiver ripples up his spine every time he sees the insignia - but the original Nazis are still everywhere. The German army is tough, and everywhere he goes it’s pure destruction.

They’ve been called in to support another Division, and Bucky is relieved for the tasks of a new squad to take his mind off everything. Being a platoon sergeant comes natural to him, and he looks after the replacements like he did his last group. It gives him something to keep busy.

Until they get to the Ardennes.

It’s hell on earth. The trees are sawed in half by shelling every night, the shrapnel alone enough to kill someone who isn’t hit directly.

It’s colder than anything he’s ever felt, and they lose more and more of the line between them and the enemy every day.

The field hospital is barely a field hospital. It’s in a partially bombed out church, and Bucky spares a thought that he hopes to hell you aren’t here, because he can’t stomach it. Of course his instincts prove to be right.

He drives one of the medics to try to scrounge up some supplies, and when he steps inside, your voice is the first one he hears. It’s chaos in there, and he’s surprised by the number of soldiers in beds, on chairs, or just laying on the floor.

His eyes fall on you and it’s like he can finally breathe again, though his relief is replaced by worry when you meet his eyes. He barely recognizes the look on your face. He sees the recognition when you first spot him, the barely there softening of your gaze, but he doesn’t recognize the rest.

You’ve lost weight. Everyone has, but it’s stark in the way your cheekbones jut out slightly, and the way your uniform hangs on you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you say, your voice lacking it’s usual enthusiasm. He understands. Nothing seems important anymore, nothing seems worth getting excited for. All there is, is survival.

“Lieutenant,” he says softly, giving a brief salute.

“Nurse!” A call is coming from the other side of the church, and you glance away from Bucky briefly. He wants to grab your hand, your arm, anything to keep you from heading back into the fray.

“Are you hurt?” You ask him, looking him over. He finds he’s not sure how to answer. Physically, no. But in his head? The nightmares are atrocious. The headaches-- and on top of all that, he has no idea what that Hydra scientist actually did to him.

“No,” he replies carefully. “Came to beg for any bandages and plasma you have for our medic.”

You frown. “There isn’t much. I have to see this patient, but wait here.”

He watches you go, watches the slight limp to your gait, and he finds himself clenching his fist when he hears a doctor order you around.

A few minutes later you’re back with a small box. “This is all we can spare.”

“It’ll do us good. Thank you.” He doesn’t want to leave. “What a pair we make, hey?”

You meet his eyes, untrusting. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You need to get some rest,” he counters.

“There’s too much to do.”

He knows he has to leave. He needs to get back to his unit. He wishes this were another time, another place… that he could have met you back in Brooklyn.

“Be safe.” His voice is rough, and he hates himself for it, because he barely knows you. He doesn’t know why he feels so connected to you. You’re beautiful, of course you are, but for all he knows, you have someone back home, wherever that is.

“You too, James.”

The use of his first name floors him, not just because it’s so personal, but because he can’t remember the last time someone called him by his name.

“Barnes!” A shout from the door from an agitated soldier and another shout for you by the doctor, and you’re both pulled in separate directions.

The jeep is halfway back to the line when he hears the first shell. He forces his eyes shut and takes a deep breath to try to steady himself.

It’s not until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Steve again that he allows himself to think of you briefly before he’s forced to fight again.

Always fighting.

.

.

.

They move out two days later.

He’s never been so happy to get out of the woods. The high spirits of the rest of the men are contagious, and he finds himself nearly grinning ear to ear as they make their way slowly down the road, the hellish cold of the night before long forgotten in the new day’s sun.

The jeeps roll to a stop and there’s a long while before they get moving again. At some point, Steve had climbed out and headed up the line to see what the hold up was.

When he gets back, he hauls himself inside, and Bucky eyes the spot where he grips the door, the spot slightly dented by his strength. He’ll never get used to it, but in the moment he’s less worried about that, and more worried about the thing he does recognize - the crease in between Steve’s brows.

“What’s wrong.”

Steve waits. When he speaks, his voice is low. “The field hospital was bombed during the shelling.”

Bucky’s entire body goes cold. Steve seems to understand, and the two of them make their way to the front of the unit on foot. When they get to the hospital, there’s a few members of the 101st Airborne milling around, the medic from Easy picking through the rubble.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. His knees feel weak. He wants to demand answers, wants to ask what happened, but it’s a stupid question.

He feels sick. They bombed a hospital.

“Did anyone--” Bucky starts, pausing to clear his throat, “Casualties?”

The medic meets his eyes. “A few nurses and a couple patients made it out. They’re being sent back to England.”

“Buck, we have to go.” Steve says somberly, apologetically.

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He can’t breathe.

It’ll be months before he finds out what happened to you.

.

.

.

You don’t sleep much, anymore.

The War is over, but in so many ways, you feel like you’re still in it. Your dreams are filled with explosions and screams, and during the day, you’re forced to pretend that everything is normal, when in reality, nothing will ever be the same.

There’s a large scar on your right arm. The limp you picked up in Bastogne lingers, and is worse when the weather is cold.

You’re trying to be “normal” but can’t understand what your purpose is. After everything you’ve seen, you can’t stand to just be content to go to parties and luncheons and listen to your mother talk about marriage. It feels so trivial.

The only person you’ve talked about the War with is your father. You don’t allow yourself to get emotional, but you make it clear to him how close you came to dying. How close to the front lines you were for months.

Your friends talk about the Red Cross nurses like the whole thing was one big party - dressing up and flirting with soldiers, bringing them coffee and enjoying a European vacation. Maybe it was that way for some, but for you and the women you served closely with, it was a nightmare.

Still, you don’t regret it. You wanted to do your part, and you did more than that.

On your way to your office job, a car backfires on the street, and you jump, stumbling slightly as instinct takes over. You feel embarrassed when you remember where you are, but then there’s a hand at your elbow and gentle eyes assessing you.

“Are you okay, miss?” He looks familiar, but you can’t place him.

“Fine, fine. Sorry, I--”

“It’s okay. It startled me too.” He says, and when you meet his gaze evenly, you recognize the look there. After a moment, you recognize the face, too.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. Your heart starts to speed up, not because you’re starstruck, but because of the possibility that he’s here too. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought of James Barnes since you’ve been home, wondering about him.

You’ve seen the newsreels enough to know he and the Commandos made it home, thanks to Steve saving James’ life on one of their final missions.

“Steve, we haven’t got all day, we have to--” His voice interrupts your thoughts, and when you finally see him, he’s gone pale, eyes as sharp as you remember, though there’s more shadows under his eyes than you’d like to see.

He says your name on a low exhale, but it’s a question, like he can’t believe you’re here.

“Sergeant,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, and before you can object, Steve is making some excuse about ducking into the shop you’re in front of, and then James is right in front of you.

“It’s Bucky,” he corrects you gently. “My friends call me Bucky.”

“Is that what we are?”

He’s so close you can see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “I thought you were dead.”

You’re used to lying to everyone about what happened to you; trying to make it more palatable for those who thought you just handed out coffee and raised soldiers’ spirits. It’s refreshing to be able to tell him the truth.

“I almost was. We were almost evacuated when the bomb hit. There were still patients and nurses in the church--” You stop yourself, feeling short of breath.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

You look down at your feet, feeling awkward. You don’t know what else to say. It’s suddenly dawning on you that you don’t really know him at all. Except when you look back up at him - you can see the kindness and understanding in his eyes. The connection is there too; the one that kept you thinking of each other and seeing each other again again against all odds.

“I’m glad to see you.” You tell him honestly.

The smile that slowly grows on his face is so charming. “I’m very glad to see you too, Lieutenant.”

Despite yourself, you roll your eyes, a smile of your own on your lips. “I think we can drop the formalities.”

His eyes are intense as he takes a step closer, “Let me take you to dinner.” He takes a deep breath, “This is probably too much, but you were one of the only things to get me through the last two years. I saw you once, and I was done for, sweetheart...” He trails off, shrugging.

“You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Sergeant?”

“He does, so please take pity on him and go to dinner with him,” Steve’s voice interrupts, “He hasn’t stopped talking about you since I met up with him in Italy.”

You look back at the dark-haired man fidgeting next to you, rolling his eyes at his friend, and for the first time since you came home, you feel like there might be something to look forward to.

[bookshopkat]

Asian Fantasy Novels for the Lunar New Year

Photo by Thyla Jane

Happy Year of the Ox!  The Lunar New Year, or Spring Festival, is a major celebration in many Asian countries.  Marking the first new moon of the lunar calendar, this celebration lasts for days and is a time for family and friends, lantern festivals, dragon and lion dances, gifts of money, fireworks, and feasts.  There’s something enchanting about the Lunar New Year, with its bright lanterns lining every street and its sparkling starbursts lighting the night sky.  At its heart is tradition, cultural beliefs, and a mixture of mythology and magic.  Simple charms are used to bring good luck and drive away evil.  The supernatural has a firm place amid the celebrations, from shoe-stealing ghosts in South Korea to Vietnamese kitchen gods to the lion-like monster Nian in China.  As such, this holiday presents a marvelous opportunity to both celebrate various Asian cultures and conjure a sense of wonder.  So, to celebrate the Lunar New Year, here are four fantasy novels rooted in Asian culture and lore.

Jade City by Fonda Lee

On the island of Kekon, jade grants those with the ability to wield it special powers, but promises pain and death for anyone lacking the right genetics who tries to use it.  As a result, jade smuggling is a profitable business and those families with the capacity to use the mineral, called Jade Bones, make up the highest class of society. But now ordinary citizens are somehow gaining the ability to use jade, and it is throwing the society of Kekon into turmoil.  As suspicion fuels inter-clan warfare among the noble class, the future of the island nation hangs in the balance.  In the midst of this chaos stands three siblings. Kaul Lan, the new, young, peace-loving leader of his family, finds himself faced with the uncomfortable necessity of bloodshed as he tries to steer his clan through these uncertain times.  Lan’s brother, the hot-tempered and passionate Kaul Hilo, is like a warrior straight out of old tales: honorable, protective, and hungry for battle and glory.  Their sister, Shae, is an independent modern woman who chose to cast aside her jade along with her traditional roles in favor of freedom and marriage to an outsider.  Added to this cast of characters is Wen, Hilo’s forbidden lover, who is burdened by the combination of coming from a disgraced family and being a rare Stone Eye, a supposedly cursed person completely immune to jade.  All four have their differences and disagreements, and the tension between them mirrors the growing strain in their homeland at large.  It will take them all, however, to find out who is responsible for the dangerous drug allowing non-Jade Bones to wield the sacred stone before it is too late.

This is a novel that bridges high fantasy and urban fantasy, weaving a tale of heroism, betrayal, and intrigue against the backdrop of a thoroughly modernized enchanted society. Lee’s narrative is intricate and interesting, her world building is exceptional, and her magical system is comprehensive and intelligent.  Running throughout the entire tale are elements of Chinese myth and culture, with folklore concerning gods and monsters playing a vital part.  Complex, well-written, and engaging, Jade City is grand and unique fantasy adventure.

Tears of the Wind by Phung Lam

This collection of short stories is a touching as it is magical.  Taking place on the fictional Island of Wishes, each tale explores human nature and the deepest desires people harbor in dark corners of their minds. From a lonely heart seeking solace to a soul hungry with ambition, this anthology explores the not only the power of wishes, but the question: what would people do if the one thing they truly wanted most could be theirs?  It’s basically impossible to find an English version of this book, and I had to rely on the Smart Book translation application for the ebook format.  That led to some odd phrasing in portions of the text, but the collection was nonetheless enjoyable. That is because Lam writes not only with imagination but also with a keen understanding of humanity.

The narratives are dreamlike, the content somewhat akin to magical realism and the tone ultimately surrealistic.  Ranging from heartrending to horrifying, Lam weaves stories about the darkest parts of ourselves, when we harbor wishes we dare not name, as well as about the unforeseen and often terrible consequences of getting exactly what we think we want.  The author explores the nature of love, the power of longing, and the baser side of our very nature. It’s an engaging collection that seems, and its core, to turn upon one basic thought: be careful what you wish for.

The Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo

Set in late-nineteenth-century Malaya, on the island of Borneo, this novel sparkles with folk beliefs and superstitions.  Li Lan is a spirited girl and only child from a family wrapped in what can only be called genteel poverty.  Her life is certainly not perfect—her mother is dead, her father, although loving, has allowed his grief to lead to opium addiction, and her marriage prospects are extremely limited—but things aren’t so very bad.  Apart from occasional longings for beautiful new clothing such as she sees other wealthier girls sporting, Li Lan would be reasonably content if it weren’t for one thing: her father has asked her if she would like become a ghost bride.  He says it almost as a joke, but the moment he speaks the words, the wheels of fate start to turn. The rare tradition of ghost brides is meant to mollify the spirits of wealthy young men who died without marrying, and it presents both tempting and terrifying prospects. While accepting would mean financial help for her aging father as well as a place for Li Lan herself in one of Malacca city’s most affluent households, it would also mean giving up any dreams of love, passion, or children of her own.

Li Lan, of course, refuses, especially when she starts to develop feelings for another decided living man.  But the choice may not be as easy as the thinks.  She finds herself haunted by Lim Tiang Ching, her spectral suitor, and he is determined to have her.  Tiang Ching, the young woman soon learns, was selfish and cruel when he was alive, and death hasn’t improved him. Desperate, Li Lan seeks the help of a local wise woman, and unwittingly finds herself embroiled in a supernatural struggle where ghosts are all too real and her only hope hangs on a mysterious young man who may be more than he seems, and who is most definitely keeping secrets.  On top of that, she begins to realize that the Lim family is harboring some dark secrets of their own, and one of them may be deadly.  

Choo’s narrative is imaginative as well as brimming with cultural folklore and traditions.  A blend of mystery and fantasy, it is engaging from start to finish.  Many of the characters are interesting and a little quirky, although a couple feel less well developed and there were a few moments when I felt the protagonist was a bit too flighty for my tastes. Nonetheless, this is a fun, entertaining fantasy book, perfect for an evening of light reading with a cup of tea or coffee at your side.

When You Trap a Tiger by Tae Keller

This is a truly wonderful novel blending together magical realism, mythology, family drama, and a deeply touching coming of age tale. It’s a beautifully written and imaginative narrative where opposites don’t so much collide as they do interweave in a complex dance.  Dreams tangle with reality, childhood blurs with adolescence, Korean tradition intersects with modern America, folklore mingles with daily life, and stories become solid enough to touch. Through it all runs a profound understanding of emotion and the human spirit.

Lily has always loved visiting her Korean grandmother, catching stars to learn what stories they hold and listening to traditional tales from their ancestral homeland.  This, however, is different.  Now Lily, along with her mother and her sister, are moving in with the old woman because Lily’s grandmother is sick, and isn’t getting any better.  A new city, a new school, and new fears about her beloved relative would all be difficult enough, but Lily has another problem: upon arriving, she sees a tiger straight out of one of her grandmother’s tales.  This is both a metaphor for many things: words unsaid, terminal illness, fear, and long-ago mistakes.   It is, however, also an introduction of the magical real.  Upon informing her grandmother about the big cat, Lily begins unraveling the old woman’s greatest tale yet, and takes the first step in a personal journey to discover family secrets and leave her childhood behind.  As marvelous as it is heartfelt, When You Trap a Tiger addresses conflicts between generations and cultures, as well as the reconciliation of the past, through the lens myths and storytelling. At its core, this is a novel about the power of both love and stories, as well as about one girl finding herself.

Perhaps one of these books will make an excellent companion over the next several days as celebrations of the Lunar New Year progress. Blending Asian folklore with a sense of the fantastic, these works may prove to be the perfect way for those not immersed in these festivities to still capture a bit of the season’s spirit.  Readers hungry for an interesting narrative that is a little out of the ordinary will likely find any one of these to be a feast for the imagination, as well as a wonderful way to start of the Year of the Ox.  Happy Reading!

[retvenkos]

hi! i’d like to request a ship in two of the Star Wars eras (you choose!), and Harry Potter (any era!) i am a bisexual woman, i am 5’10! i am a Hufflepuff and an INFP. i enjoy writing and photography and spending time with my family and friends. i am pretty smart, quiet, and reserved until i get to know someone, which I when I feel much for comfortable to open up to them and to be myself. i love making people around me happy and making them laugh and i notice very easily if something is wrong. i am also very self conscious about my appearance. some things that i dislike are failure and being alone and just generally feeling like i’m not good enough! thank you and congrats on 2.5k!!

Star Wars OG Trilogy:

I ship you with Luke Skywalker!

okay, so the two of you are so sweet together. luke is a sweet farm boi who believes the best of everyone and has an idealistic view of the world, just like you. you both are the optimists™ of the group, and if you go on adventures w/ leia and han, it’s perfect because you two are up against the realists, and very little gets done, if leia doesn’t put her foot down and get everyone to agree on a plan.

luke loves how smart you are, and how you’re a creative thinker, constantly coming up with new ways to look at things. honestly, you have gotten the group out of some pretty bad situations before, with your creative ideas and han’s piloting skills. they probably would have died a couple of times over had it not been for you. 

you’re intuition and knack of reading people definitely comes in handy with luke, because he doesn’t always want to let his fears be known, but you are able to see them in him, and you gently coax him into talking. 

and luke is so glad he can lean on you - he feels like he doesn’t need to keep secrets from you, and that’s really special.

and both of you are very loyal to your values - you have strong moral codes that you could never break, and so you both would never ask the other to compromise on what you believe. both of you would rather die trying to find a way out than do something you don’t believe in, and that’s good for relationship stability, seeing as you guys are faced with tough problems almost every day.

you both also love your families! you love spending time with friends and family, even if you aren’t doing much else, so you definitely spend a lot of quality time together (that’s probably luke’s love language, ngl).

also, luke is probably the most genuine person in all of star wars, so you know that whenever he gives you compliments he means them, and both of you really value that in the other.

and at the beginning of his journey, luke is funny and loves to laugh, and while he grows into someone more wise and subdued, hils love for jokes never leaves him entirely, and you are able to make him laugh like he used to on tatooine, and that’s very sweet.

you bring out the best in luke, and he brings out the best in you!

the two of you definitely have early morning talks - his hair is still messy and he’s still smiling from being half in a dream, and you give him a hug from behind and lean your chin on his shoulders while you watch the sunrise. 

also! while luke tinkers with machinery, you definitely hang out with him, either writing or just watching him work. the two of you like to spend a lot of time in each other’s presence, doing small things.

Star Wars Clone Wars:

I ship you with Ahsoka!

alright, but you would treat ahsoka right. all you want is for her to be happy, and honestly, who doesn't?

something that ahsoka loves about you is how genuine you are - maybe you’re tough to get to know (she’s certainly no stranger to closed off people), but you are a very authentic person once you open up. you never keep secrets or try to be double. you offer a kind of transparency that ahsoka appreciates and really loves. 

you are also very passionate in your beliefs, and that’s something you and ahsoka share. when you believe in something, you trust it with your whole heart, and while both of you are easily blindsighted to the evils of what you believe in, you both share that heart that could be disastrous in other relationships. you never blame the other for believing too much. after everything that happened with the jedi, ahsoka is a little more wary of who she puts her trust in, and that’s good for the both of you, since you often make big decisions together.

and that leads me to another point - you being so thoughtful and aware of those around you. this mostly stems from you being a little averse to conflict, but you notice when something is wrong really quickly, and you are not afraid to ask ahsoka what is going on. this is good for ahsoka because it not only prompts her to take a step back and focus on herself for a second, but it also allows ahsoka to be vulnerable, which isn’t something she likes doing. 

you are able to comfort her and allow her to show you the part of her that is still hurting, and that’s really special, tbh.

ahsoka also loves how smart you are - she’s glad you can keep up with her and are even smarter than her in many ways. ahsoka needs someone to keep up with her, and while she always has you on your toes, you pleasantly surprise her quite a lot.

and you’re also very emotionally intelligent, which i will remind you, once again, is perfect for ahsoka. she often doesn’t know how to talk about her feelings - she just feels them, and you just somehow know what she’s talking about? and you can sympathize with her? wow. she loves that.

i also think that the two of you were pen pals for a while - she keeps all of your letters and even if she’s not the best at always replying back, she will find the time to send you one, reminding you to keep sending her updates because she really misses you.

oh, and the two of you love to take pictures together. her’s are more funny pictures of the two of you, all of them slightly blurred so they have that suggestion of chaos to them, and all of yours a little more clear and a little more melancholic. 

also, ahsoka does wonders for your self esteem. she is constantly telling you how much she appreciates you, and she is big on giving you the look™ that is just so full of love and admiration.

[danasmonster]

Comparing the SKAM Remakes: SANA (Part I)

Sana (SKAM original)

Sana is constantly having to defend and explain herself to others - her friends, her family, strangers. We see this with Vilde when she says Sana can’t have sex, and Sana clarifies that by explaining that she can have sex, she just chooses not to. There is also the assumption that Sana isn’t interested in boys or that she can’t participate in russefeiring “because she’s not ‘allowed’ to drink alcohol.” We see it with her parents when she has to explain to her mom that not all aspects of Islam fit her, and with her brother when she references him discouraging her from wearing a hijab in order to fit in more and avoid stigma. And finally, she explains during her season that she has experienced watching her brother being spit on, being asked racist questions, and other rude or hateful acts because she and her family are Muslim. 

The struggle to be both Norwegian and Muslim turns into a competition she gets lost in, and she ends up doing some very non-Muslim things like bully the Pepsi Max squad and lie in order to procure a russ bus. She also develops feelings for former Muslim and current atheist Yusef, which opens up an internal debate about the “Muslims only marry Muslims” rule.  

With all of her bitchiness, her prickliness, her rudeness and her mistakes, I still absolutely adore Sana. She is strong, outspoken, and takes absolutely no shit from anyone. Her story is so incredibly relevant to the world as a whole because of the way a lot of people view Islam or other “restrictive” aspects/sects of Christianity or other religions. It is a reminder that ultimately we should strive to love and understand each other, whether you are a theist or an atheist, a Muslim or a Norwegian. All is love. 

Everything I Love:

The opening scene with the contrast between Sana’s view from the bus with terrorist attacks and None of Dem by Robyn & Royksopp is so fun, & the look Sana gives the woman giving her a look over on the bus is pure Sana perfection 

The scene when Elias called Sana a slave woman and all of his friends gave him a verbal beatdown 

When we heard that Eskild was redecorating Noora’s room without her permission 

The Hot in Here scene with all the Balloon Squad working out while the girl squad ogles them, and the way Sana visibly snaps herself out of her trance. Also the shot of them coming up the street with a bunch of balloons to meet the girls is iconic

The way Yousef comes over to talk to Sana while she is over in the corner being a grump on the bus - I knew there was a reason she and Isak became friends. They’re both grumpy pants. 

When Sana catches Yousef dancing in her living room

The happy little look on her face when Yousef sends her a friend request on Facebook. She always smiles so freaking bright when she’s having fun with him

When Yousef showed off his carrot peeling skills

The way the Pepsi Max squad always has Pepsi 

When Yousef took the rap for the vodka left out at Sana’s party, then Sana was hit with a metaphorical brick when Yousef told her he isn’t Muslim. You could see the shock on her face, and now she is conflicted because “Muslims only marry Muslims” and she clearly has already developed feelings for Yousef

When Sana and Noora drink coffee and bask in their solidarity that Vilde and Magnus are gross

When Sana and Yousef play basketball together and we see her smile - we have NEVER seen her smile like that. And then they have a heart to heart about their individual religious beliefs and it is PURE GOLD

“I just feel like Islam, or religion in general, creates a lot of anxiety in people . . . I personally feel like I’ve taken the best out of the religion and thrown away the rest. It’s like, compassion towards others, being grateful for what’s best, having compassion. That’s it. Don’t you think I can remember to be a good person without praying?” - Yousef

“For me, everything can be total chaos during the day, but the moment I start to pray, everything turns quiet and clear. Because even though there’s all this chaos, you’ll remember what really matters. It’s fine because everything has a bigger context and a meaning. Because every little part of the universe is so complex. Imagine that! Even the brain of a cockroach has greater meaning on earth. I just can’t believe all of that is a coincidence,” - Sana

Her chat with Elias was also fantastic

“What’s more important, saying you believe in Allah or behaving as though you believe in Allah?” - Elias

Watching everyone join in during “Imagine” definitely almost had me tearing up - another song added to my playlist. Honestly this scene was so sweet and touching and then everything just came crashing down. It was intense. And Sana’s face just looked freaking broken. Then when she overheard that her suspicions about being pushed out of the group because she’s Muslim were correct it was like an extra stab through the heart

The scene where she’s walking through the schoolyard was excellent - very reminiscent of Isak’s similar scene, and another way in which the two of them parallel one another 

And this line is so, so true from Sana to Isak regarding why she never told Isak she knew Even before he met Isak

“I think Even should get to choose for himself how much he wants to share about his past. I mean, you might not want to share every thing about your past.”

When Sana and Jamilla have the conversation about all the different ways people fast, and Jamilla references her friend who won’t even swallow her own spit. So this friend goes around spitting all the time while she’s fasting. “She’s really confident about it, too.” 

Both Sana’s expression of how she thinks the world views her and Isak’s response are very powerful

Sana: “Do you know what people think when they see me, when they see my hijab, which is the first thing they see? They think I’m wearing it because I’m forced to, not because I want to. And if I say it’s because I want to, then I’m just oppressed because I can’t have my own opinion. We talk about freedom of religion and all kinds of freedoms here in Norway, but being allowed to wear an extra piece of clothing, that’s wrong? Do you know what people do when they see Elias and I walking down the street? They spit at him because they think he’s oppressing me! He doesn’t even want me to wear the hijab because he doesn’t want me to get hate. Do you know how fucking tiring it is to walk out the door everyday knowing it’s yet another day where you have to prove to a whole country that you’re not oppressed . . . I’ve received so many dumb, racist questions in my life.”

Isak: “The dumb questions are so fucking important. People can’t stop asking the dumb questions because when they stop asking the dumb questions they start making up their own answers. And that’s dangerous. You just have to stop looking for racism in dumb questions. Even if they feel racist, it’s so fucking important to answer them.”

The Los Losers bus definitely had me tearing up

When Linn admitted to sending a used tampon to someone who flirted with the boy she liked 

When we see Eskild picking up his guru mantle once more and he compares The Bible to Beyoncé . . . “The Bible says ‘The greatest of these is love’ or as Beyoncé would say ‘Love on top,’” while giving Sana advice

Noora’s face both when she saw William getting out of his car and when she got out of his after a four day sex and talk marathon

The conversation between Sana and her mom about why it is important for her to eventually marry someone who understands her beliefs and reminds her of them, not because she should be Muslim but because she chooses to be Muslim and she “would be very lonely if she were the only one in the relationship who believes.” So, whether or not she marries a nonbeliever or a non-Muslim is Sana’s choice, but there would be essential parts of Sana’s own wellbeing that would effected if she chose to go that route because her faith is an essential part of who she is. 

The conversation with Noora was equally important. They may not necessarily be fated to be together, but there is a reason this person (Yousef) came into Sana’s life and avoiding him would be ignoring this sign from fate that this person is supposed to be a part of her life right now. Life is now. 

When Yousef and Sana have yet another philosophical/religious discussion and Yousef proposes: “Maybe that’s why society needs religion. Democracy isn’t based on the idea that all people are different. It’s based on the idea that all people have equal worth. And that idea doesn’t exactly come from science. But I don’t think it helps to pretend there aren’t prejudices. What you have to do instead is show what Islam is.” 

And The Finale!!!

When Vilde was putting on her makeup and listening to Pretty Hurts by Beyoncé, and everything else about her segment. I loved getting that glimpse into some of her life and mind for a little while. I’m still disappointed she never got to tell us her story during the original SKAM.

When Eva reminds Chris that he’s a fuckboy so they can never be together. Sure he’s momentarily disappointed and probably felt sad for a little bit, but he was really quick to move on to Emma - proving Eva was smarter than him and knew him better than he knew himself. Seriously though the scene where Penetrator Chris and Emma first see each other is fucking awesome

I LOVE LOVE LOVE that the school nurse has a big white dildo on the desk next to her while she has her chat with Chris

When we see Even stressing over making Isak’s birthday perfect 

The interaction between Eskild and Linn when Eskild tells Linn she has to wear a hijab to Sana’s party because Sana is Muslim was hilarious. And then he told her they are always going to be there for each other and it got me right in the feels

And then when Eskild was proposing he, Noor, and Linn could share everything together if William moved in . . . shampoo, and William, and dish soap . . . 

Then Vilde to Chris; “You know why you’re my best friend? Because no matter how hard my day is, you always find a way to make me laugh. Sometimes it makes you feel better to pretend that you’re fine.” 

And the final speech!!!!

“Dear Sana, This speech is for you. And you’re getting it because what you’re inviting us to today overthrows American presidents tomorrow. We live in a chaotic world where it is difficult to understand the rules. Because why are some people poor and other people rich? Why do some people have to be refugees while others are safe? And why is it that sometimes even though you try to do something good it’s still met with hate?

It’s not weird that people give up, that they stop believing the good. But thank you so much for not giving up, Sana. Because even though it sometimes feels like it no one is ever alone. Each and everyone of us is part of the big chaos. And what you do today has an effect tomorrow.

it can be hard to say exactly what kind of effect, and usually you can’t see how everything fits together. But the effects of your actions are always there, somewhere in the chaos. In 100 years we may have machines that can predict effects of every action but until then we can trust this: Fear spreads But… But, fortunately love does too.”

I’m going to go cry now. 

[illfoandillfie]

Hewwoooo

I was just wondering if you’re doing tarot readings could I get a romance/love one? My initials are TL and his are BW 🥺🥺👉🏼����🏼

here you go darl!

tarot: eight of cups, seven of wands, the tower, knight of pentacles, 6 of swords, king of wands/the magician, 6 of cups/the lovers, 7 of pentacles. 

Okay well to start we have two cards that both deal with transition. The 8 of cups is about letting go of or walking away from something be it a situation, mindset, or person. The 6 of swords is similar though it’s more strongly tied to journeys. It often signifies that something is coming to an end. These cards together, and their emphasis on moving on/walking away, indicates that you (or perhaps BW) are entering a phase of transition. This could be symbolic of a past relationship that you (or he) have been affected by, maybe someone it took a while to get over. It could also just represent the transition from being single to being in a relationship, especially if you’ve been single for a while. It may be saying that you now believe yourself ready for a relationship and are willingly opening yourself up to the possibility. You’re choosing to move forward and find a relationship that will make you happy rather than dwelling on past hurts or self-doubt. 

The next cards are interesting. Firstly, the 7 of wands is about perseverance and defending your position. It may be that there are people who would oppose a relationship between you and BW or who would advise you not to be with him. But this card suggests you would stand your ground. Similarly, the King of wands is also related to overcoming challenges. In the Jane Austen deck, some cards double as major and minor arcana and I take both meanings into account as I read them. The King of wands is bold and optimistic, energetic and passionate. He’s a leader and devoted to those he loves. And the Magician is related to willpower, desire and manifestation. You want this relationship, you believe there could be a future in it. And you’re ready to fight for it, ready to make it happen, no matter what other people might think. 

Next up we have the Tower. This card signifies a dramatic or sudden change, often causing chaos as you deal with it. A lot of the time this is considered disastrous or traumatic but not always. Even the most chaotic and confusing of changes can be good and part of the cycle of destruction is rebuilding. In regards to a relationships this card can indicate a break up but it can also signify a breaking down of your perspective on or understanding of the entire notion of love. This may indicate a period of self reflection as you consider what you believe about love and how those beliefs impact you. Use it to develop an individual understanding of what your needs are when it comes to relationships, and what expectations you are putting on yourself and others. It could also relate to the “walking away” indicated by the first two cards. This may be about changing unhealthy ideas you were left with after a previous relationship or about moving into a new phase of your life. Ultimately, the outcome of whatever this change is will be a positive one.

The Lovers is the card you want to show up in a love reading. In the Jane Austen deck it doubles as the 6 of cups which is a card of happy memories and healing. The 6 of cups can also relate to nostalgia and past relationships so if BW is an ex who has come back into your life, that may be relevant. Otherwise this bodes well as you taking steps to heal from whatever it is you left behind with the first two cards. Ultimately, the Lovers card signals that you are heading towards a long and lasting relationship. You may have to go through a rough patch before it will happen, but it will be worth the wait and whatever chaotic or troublesome situations you have to deal with. The Lovers card speaks of a balanced and supportive relationship but it also speaks of choosing that commitment, choosing to be with each other. 

Finally we have the knight of pentacles and the 7 of pentacles. Both of these cards relate to hard work and diligence. The knight of pentacles is reliable, efficient, and committed. Though he can be stubborn he is also patient and trustworthy. This card may signify BW much like the king of pentacles signified you. With you being a king and he being a knight, it could mean that you’re a little older or a little more mature, or perhaps that you’ve got a little more experience than him. This card also indicates a partnership in which both of you will be working towards your goals together, both willing to put in the time and effort it takes to create a strong relationship. And that’s confirmed by the 7 of pentacles which refers to hard work, perseverance, and diligence. This card warns that love may be slow to flourish but you will be rewarded eventually. It’s also a reminder that love isn’t always big romantic gestures and constant excitement. Love and relationships require both partners to put in the time and effort and energy every day to make them work. As a small aside, the 7 of pentacles may also indicate a romance born from friendship, so if BW is someone you’ve been friends with for a while, consider this a good sign. Especially since we had the 6 of cups earlier. 

Onto the oracle cards. 

Your Love Oracle is Rhianna and her three pieces of wisdom are: The badder you are, the better it is. / Sometimes you have to stick it out through the storm. / You have to be strong to let yourself be weak. I think the second one is the most relevant, especially with that tower card in the middle of the spread. Things won’t always be easy but persevere and everything will work out for the best. 

The two heart shaped cards say: Romance - Cupid’s arrow strikes! and Let there be closeness between you, but always give reach other space. Love never claims, it simply allows and gives. So there is something between you with that Romance card. And I think that second one really ties in with the 7 of pentacles energy as well as the balance of the Lovers card. 

And last but not least, you got 3 romance angel cards. Getting To Know Each Other (As you reveal your innermost selves to each other, your bond deepens.) / Heart-To-Heart Conversations (Honestly discuss your feelings with each other.) / Forgiving and Learning (As you release and heal the past, you experience more love in your present moments.) That forgiving and learning card definitely ties in with the 8 of cups/6 of swords transition energy and there is definitely something you need to let go of before you can move into this relationship. Heart-to-heart could be related to the work mentioned in the knight and seven of pentacles cards. And getting to know each other is interesting considering the couple of cards we got about friendship/memories. If you aren’t already friends with BW this may be a sign that becoming friends first would help you build the relationship. 

[daesungfmd]

𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓.

solo 6  /  wc: 1,921

moral of the story: hwang daesung is a menace. (tw: blood, needles mentioned in a brief anecdote in the context of piercings).

his intentions are cloudy, unreadable ―

he’s a boy who smiles so bright that it seems like he’s in a competition with the sun, talks circles around anyone who’ll listen, begging them to show some interest in the smaller parts of his life. but by the time he’s eight years old, teachers are already writing home about how disruptive he is in class, how he cuts them off mid-lesson to inquire about the color of their cheeks. (”he asked if my skin color is a result of high blood pressure,” one teacher writes, not quite angry, but far from amused. “he doesn’t seem to know how to keep his thoughts to himself”.)

it seems like he never learns, either.

his parents tell him not to answer the door if neither of them are home alone. it’s dangerous, they say, and he humors them by pretending to agree, though his personal belief is that the most dangerous thing in the apartment building is the landlord’s tendency to come looking for day-late rent first thing in the morning with un-brushed teeth. (”does our rent buy your toothpaste?” he asks one morning, in the middle of getting ready for school. the landlord doesn’t think it’s funny, and neither does daesung’s mom as she apologizes on his behalf, stalling while she comes up with some excuse as to why they can’t pay yet. but he sees the smile his dad’s trying to hide, and that makes the scolding that comes later feel worthwhile.)

he listens to the radio too loud while he does chores or pretends to do his homework, turns it up even louder when the lady from apartment 308 comes knocking at the door, undoubtedly to tell him to keep it down in there. there comes a day when he finally opens the door, ignoring every warning his parents had so persistently burned into his mind. before she can speak a single word, he takes the chance to say, “my dad told me you’re angry all the time ‘cause you’re going through a mid-life crisis. i thought you’d be older.” 

he watches her mouth open, close, open, then close again ― evidently, she doesn’t know what to say. when she speaks, her tone reeks of momentary defeat. “your dad told me that you’re eleven, so i thought you’d have learned how to be respectful by now. i guess we were both wrong.”

“i guess so.” the door shuts, locks. he turns the radio back on, louder.

as emotional intelligence puts roots in his brain, acts of blatant disrespect become less frequent but he’s still difficult to predict, impossible to control. a diagnosis of adhd at age 13 turns out to be half the explanation for his fluctuating energy levels, lack of impulse control and forgetfulness, but the consequences of these symptoms are still attributed to having no manners, no home training. condescension from teachers leads to an inherent disdain for a school system that doesn’t serve him, and it turns into hatred the first time his 8th grade homeroom teacher calls him out for the eyeliner he’s wearing.

“the girls aren’t allowed to wear makeup to school, so what made you believe that it would be okay for you to do so?” he asks right after attendance, staring 14-year old daesung in the eyes. he’s lost somewhere between not caring at all and being on high-alert from the embarrassment of the whole class turning to look at him, at his eyes.

“i didn’t realize that the girls had anything to do with me,” he snaps, smart-ass tone contradicting the nervous cracking of his knuckles. “there’s nothing about makeup in the boys’ dress code. if it’s that big of a deal, maybe it should be updated. let me know when it is.”

it’s a terrible way to start off 8th grade year, results in a series of miniature battles between him and the teacher. back-talking that lands him in the hallway with a stack of textbooks held over his head, though they’re dropped on the ground as soon as he’s not being watched ― he takes time-outs as personal breaks, which is later called defiance though it seems like his teacher has no desire to take daesung’s behavioral issues to anyone higher in the chain. on the occasions that he has gate duty, he always calls daesung out, makes him wait ‘til the gates close, then marks him tardy and makes him run laps first thing in the morning.

fair enough.

daesung’s playing a slow game, though, and he eventually lets his teacher think that he’s won. he stops wearing the eyeliner until finals season comes, and then he packs it on heavy, aiming to be called out. the eyeliner isn’t the surprise, though ― it’s the needle and ring in his pocket, pulled out after he’s done scrubbing his makeup off in the sink.

it’s a move made in an act of immature rebellion, and he knows that the purchase hadn’t been the best use of his accumulated lunch money. even as he leans in closer to the mirror, gets the ring attached to the needle and takes aim, he thinks about how the how-to page he’d read had specifically said not to do this in a dingy bathroom, and here he is ―

what’s the worst that can happen?

one, two, oh, fuck. he’s not expecting the blood, and he’s certainly not expecting to have to push and prod the needle until it finally slips through, and he’s not prepared to have to tug at the ring to get it to come loose from the needle and sit presentably on his lip. by the time he’s done, his eyes are bloodshot from unshed tears. he spits one final time, splashes cold sink water against his teeth and against the piercing to wash away the remnants of red. 

it doesn’t turn out to be the power-move he expects it to be, because the school year comes to a close two weeks later and all he’s got to show for it is an infuriated mother, a handful of kids who think he’s lost his mind and a near-infected lip.

it seems to be the last of his raging rebellion ― anger dispels, mischief takes its place. he ends up a trainee under one of the biggest idol companies in the country, and no one fully understands ― not even the other trainees, given the all work and no play expectations shaken by his all play and no work mentality. it feels like all the company employees have his picture and name on some secret list because every time something goes wrong, he’s the first to be questioned. not that he doesn’t deserve it, though; he’s the boy who convinces in-house chefs that yes, he’s supposed to be given bigger portions than everyone else, it’s a health condition. he’s the boy who disrupts practice hours by connecting his phone to blue-tooth speakers. he’s the boy who hides from his responsibilities in narrow, dim corners. he’s the boy everyone expects to drop out, or be kicked out ―

not to be selected for a competition show.

it clears his assumptions that the company has some kind of personal vendetta against him, but it doesn’t make him take the situation more seriously in any way. during his first personal interview, he’s asked, “what do you think you bring to the competition?” and instead of giving an immediate answer, he plays dumb. he doesn’t know why he does it. it’s an impulse, maybe meant to draw time out, make things a little more complicated than they have to be.

“this is a competition?” he questions, and after slowly nodding along to an explanation that he’d already heard an abundance of times, his answer is, “i’m bringing the spirit. i’ll make it fun.”

as the show progresses, the clueless act strengthens ― he’s always asking why, why, why, like a kid on a mission to irritate their parents. criticism sets in, both from instructors and at-home viewers. he hardly cares.

by the time that debut comes, everyone’s made their minds up about him already.

he’s shameless. he’s dense. he’s dumb.

he supposes that they’re not wrong, though; there’s certainly something shameless in the way he interrupts and talks over others, on a constant mission to steal the spotlight. it’s too much, he’s told. he’s too much. a reputation that follows him around for years to come, even once he picks some locks and sneaks his way right into the public’s hearts. he’s annoying in an endearing way, and after a bit of trial and error, he learns just the right ways to draw laughter from crowds ― decides that if he can just make people laugh, they’ll learn to love him. if he can bring a little bit of happiness, then the inconveniences that come with his presence will always be forgiven.

it’s this inherent trust in his ability to be forgiven that he continues to push his luck, break rules, let reminders go in one ear and out the other ―

he’s told that dating is discouraged, but dating fans is completely banned. naturally, his first girlfriend is someone he met at a signing. when he gets caught―not by a manager, but by a close friend―his excuse is that he didn’t know because she never explicitly stated that she knew anything about impulse. (a blatant lie, if her profile picture of their logo is anything to go by).

he sweet-talks his manager into letting him use his card for dinner, promises to return it soon ― then goes clubbing instead and buys rounds for the pretty girl who keeps one hand on his knee, then on his shoulder, then around his shoulders; getting closer and closer, then leaving as soon as he stops paying. (i was hungry, he lies, and i wanted something expensive).

he’s reminded well in advance to be prepared for one of impulse’s trips abroad, then waits until twenty minutes before boarding to reveal that he doesn’t know where his passport is. watches chaos unfold, and pulls his passport out of his pocket with five minutes to spare. “i guess i didn’t stick my hand deep enough in my pocket,” he shrugs, howling with laughter during a sprint across the building, convinced that his group and manager’s annoyance with him won’t last. 

he’s called out for scratching his head too much, comes across a compilation while sneaking around on stan twitter. he can hear a manager’s voice in the back of his head, telling him he should never post anything that could cause a scandal or address any rumors without consulting the company first. naturally, he spends three hours perfecting an apology letter for having lice ― something that isn’t true, but causes a minor stir all the same.

before he knows it, he’s twenty-four and he’s still too much, always too much. it doesn’t matter how mellow he thinks he’s becoming, the reminders that he needs to grow up seem to be lurking around every corner. he nods along absently, but nothing seems to change, and he only reveals the mature side of him―the part that became an adult long before adulthood hit―in fleeting moments, or when he’s with his closest friends.

in any other situation, he remains hwang daesung, the jester. the menace. the prankster. the inconvenience. whatever nickname is bestowed upon him, he’ll accept; he has no interest in telling people what they should or shouldn’t think of him. 

he never has.

[dinosaurs-last-day]

I was thinking 1 through 70, but I realize it's a lot. How about just 1 and 70 to let you off easy 😊❤️.

Nah, you asked for 1 through 70 and I am always up for a challenge. I’m going to do that now! CHALLENGE ACCEPTED YAY!

Plus, I love how you saw the list and though “ALL OF THEM!” I really made me laugh. Thank you for that.

here we go!

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Not really. I mean, we get along and we try not to fight. But we have very different beliefs on very big topics, so I have to keep that to myself. They definatly have their faults and it definately affected my childhood and our relationship. In the future, after I move out, I will distance myself from the a lot, but I hope that I won’t have to cut them out. 

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 

My little brother. He’s adorable.

03: Do you regret anything? 

So many things, I could write a book about my regrets. 

04: Are you insecure? 

Very, I’m insecure about almost everything. Ask literally anyone close to me and they will tell you. 

05: What is your relationship status? 

Single, single, single. And at this point in life, with all of my past relationships, I doubt I will even consider a relationship for a long while. Too much pain and fear for rejection and that type of stuff.

06: How do you want to die?

Honestly, I think it would be cool to die from alcohol poisoning or something like that. But if we are being realistic, any way that isn’t painful, like in my sleep.

 07: What did you last eat? 

a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

08: Played any sports?

In the past, I have played both baseball and softball on teams. I haven’t played any sports in the past 8-9 years and I doubt I will any time soon.

 09: Do you bite your nails?

nope, never did. 

 10: When was your last physical fight? 

My dad and I will roughhouse a lot. I tend to stay away from real physical fights. 

11: Do you like someone? 

I do like someone. Sadly, that didn’t work out and I am currently trying to figure out how to get over her.

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

Yes. I have gone to multiple youth group all nighters where they lock you in a building and give you a bunch of stuff to do so that you don’t sleep. I’ve done it three times and have never lost it. 

 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 

I mean, I always hate myself, does that count? Honestly, a little. For almost a year now, I’ve hated this girl who was talking shit about me because she heard a rumor and decided to hate me. I’ve mostly gotten over it, but I still really don’t like this girl.

14: Do you miss someone?

@trixxyneko. I miss her a lot. 

 15: Have any pets?

Does a little brother count? No, I do not. My family rents a house and our landlord says no pets. We almost adopted a dog that broke into our house, but we couldn’t because of the landlord.

 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Tired, sore.

 17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

Made out, yes. In a bathroom, nope. 

 18: Are you scared of spiders? 

Not really. I don’t like them and think they are creepy, but I wouldn’t say that I am scared of them. 

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 

Depends on where I was allowed to go back in time. Plus, do I have to sit back and watch for fear of ruining the timeline, or can I participate? These are all questions I would want answers to before making that decision. 

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

At a party, a year and a half ago.

 21: What are your plans for this weekend?

watch anime. Quarantined rn, so not much to do.

 22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

I want to adopt one kid. Maybe two depending on where I am and life and who I marry. 

 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 

Only regular earring piercings, but I want more.

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 

Best subject is probably math. Even though I hate math...

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

not really. I can’t think of anyone. I’ve had to say goodbye to a lot of people because I move a lot. But if I’m super close to someone, I will stay in touch one way or another. 

 26: What are you craving right now?

chocolate

 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 

I wouldn’t say BROKEN, but I have broken up with a dude who followed me around like a puppy dog. He fine tho, at least, that’s what I’ve been told. 

28: Have you ever been cheated on? 

no.

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

I don’t think so, I hope not.

 30: What’s irritating you right now?

This virus and the quarantine. Usually, I stay inside on my own accord, but I hate the fact that my choice has been taken away. I understand why, and I agree, but it does cramp my style. 

 31: Does somebody love you?

I doubt it. I’m a potato and if someone loved me, I’d call them crazy and insane.

 32: What is your favorite color?

I love blues, specifically aquamarine, gray, and purple. 

 33: Do you have trust issues?

Yes. I have had a good number of bad friendships that have given me trust issues. 

 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 

I don’t really dream, and if I do, I forget it immediately, so idk...

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 

My mirror. Honestly, I cried watching RWBY a few weeks ago, so my siblings.

36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 

Yeah, I trust people even when they don’t really earn that trust. And for me, that means believing that people will change even if they don’t. 

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

Forgive. I very much live by the forgive but don’t forget thing. It’s not that I try to remember, I just have a really good memory.

 38: Is this year the best year of your life?

Absolutely not. I look around at what is happening in both the entire world and my personal life, and I feel despair. 

 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 

14 years old.

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 

NO. I have no self confidence, I can’t even walk around my house without two or three layers of clothing on and be comfortable. 

51: Favorite food? 

PICKLES and ICE CREAM. But not together, that’s gross. 

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Yes, otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to live in this chaos. I have to believe in that for my own sanity. 

 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

Read fanfiction.

 54: Is cheating ever okay?

No. What type of question is that? Cheating is never okay. If you enter a relationship, you are dedicating yourself to that person until you two break up, if you do that. If you want to be with someone else, you need to leave the relationship you are already in.

 55: Are you mean? 

I don’t think so. I can be mean at times, but I am not mean in the sense that I get joy from it and am mean regularly. 

56: How many people have you fist fought? 

zero. again, i don’t like fighting.

57: Do you believe in true love?

yes, I do. 

 58: Favorite weather? 

rain. 

59: Do you like the snow? 

yeah, but I don’t see it often. I could probably count the times I’ve played in snow on one hand.

60: Do you wanna get married? 

yes.

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

Depends on my relationship with them. I have been called babe by dudes hitting on me and I hate that. But if it is someone I am close to, I don’t see why not, it’s them trying to show affection. though why they would like me is beyond me

 62: What makes you happy?

fandoms, music.

 63: Would you change your name?

maybe. I’ve thought about it, a lot. 

 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

YES, VERY HARD. Let’s just say that the last time I kissed someone, I wasn’t in the best mental health place and them giving me attention felt good. Looking back, they aren’t a good person and I hate myself for falling for all that. 

 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 

Seeing as how I am a lesbian, I’d tell them that I’m not interested, but I would love to still be their friend.

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 

Yeah. He’s amazing. We both have crackhead energy, though he has more of it. 

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

Same friend as the last question. We texted last night in a group chat.

 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

My discord server and I have had a few deep conversations. I’d say them. 

 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 

I don’t really know. I guess? Yeah, I do. 

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

All of my close friends.

Welp, that’s done. Thank you so much for the laugh and the questions. I hope these answers of satisfying and if they arent, oh well. 

[speaksfel]

OSCAR ISAAC? No, that’s actually FELIX SPEAKMAN JR. from universe 2. You know, the child of FELIX SPEAKMAN SR. and MARY ROSE TORRES ? Only 34 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as a REPORTER FOR THE DAILY PROPHET. HE identifies as CIS-MAN and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be BRASH, DOGMATIC, and CYNICAL but also ENERGETIC, ETHICAL, and METICULOUS. — &&. ( CAMI, GMT+1, SHE/HER, 20. ) 

“ this is why you should never, ever, get your hopes up. this is why you should see the glass as half empty. so when the whole thing spills, you aren’t as devastated. “

death tw, parental death tw, alcohol tw

BEFORE

felix speakman sr. didn’t come from wealth, nor from a strictly “pure” bloodline, but he used to take pride in his status anyway. an hogwarts drop out, he had nothing to show but a few poor OWL results and a knack for trouble, something he claims he inherited from his father before him. when luck didn’t seem to come by him in the wizarding world, he set his eyes on the muggles, spending most of his fast-ending youth doing odd jobs to stay afloat and learning bits about the world he found so alien. everything changed when he, at age nineteen, met mary rose in a run down club he’d been bartending at. 

a perfectly normal girl from town. mary rose finished school and took up a job at a supermarket in the city centre, unaware that the following year her life would look completely different. she met a funny guy with a loud mouth and a tendency to pick fights, and decided to give him a shot for a few months. felix would have been just a shitty short-lived boyfriend buried deep in her memories, had she not discovered she was pregnant shortly after the breakup. 

the wizard was never meant for a structured life, a child and wife and a stable job. they were on and off throughout the pregnancy, speakman doing more harm then good with the stress he put her under and the emotional and financial instability. a week and a half after the birth, it was clear that he did not wish to raise a kid or get his act together so mary rose made it clear she’d do her damned best to do it instead. anticipating the storm that might come later, he gave her one final surprise by showing her magic ( she always repeated that story - she had to be shown, because felix speakman telling her he was a wizard was so preposterous it must certainly be one of his ploys for attention ). armed with nothing but some kernels of knowledge she shook out of the man, mary rose started the task of raising a boy just as fiery and just as destructive as his namesake, and with little understand of how to control his own magic.

mary rose didn’t want to name him felix, anything but that really. her first choice, benjamin, became his middle name as the father pleaded with her over some tradition given how he come from a “very important and ancient family of wizards”. it was all an exaggeration, she later suspected, and after enrolling at hogwarts, her son certainly confirmed to her that the speakman were not of any relevance at all. not good and not bad, purely existent. alas, named after his father and his father before him, felix speakman was brought into a very muggle world at the heart of manchester. 

magic only really paid a part when his father came to pick him up for the occasional weekend or when something broke without reason, although rambunctious as he was, magic wasn’t necessary for chaos. 

when his father appeared and dragged him along for a few days, the boy took that as an opportunity to analyse the world around him, absorbing every bit of knowledge he could and asking too many questions. sitting on a bar stool at the leaky cauldron. wandering through the corridors of a broom factory. trying to finish maths homework inside a moving knight bus. his father came and left often, and when he was present he was usually busy with the many jobs he couldn’t seem to keep, or fully unaware of what to do with a child or teen, let alone what to do with felix himself - what did he like? what was he up to? half hearted attempts at small talk made for very dull weekends if it wasn’t for felix’s inquisitive mind and his ease at starting conversations with strangers. “your boy’s got a big mouth!” they’d say as he drilled them with questions and began chatting up a storm, trying carefully to blend in to a world he was half foreign to.

going to hogwarts was like whiplash, the warm and epic castle worlds away from his barely livable life in a crummy manchester neighborhood. it was there that he found quite a lot of happiness though - hogwarts was the bit of stability he was missing in his life, something constant he could hold onto - especially his beloved house, GRYFFINDOR. it was there that he learned of the unimaginable prejudice within that magical society though, and it was there that a higher sense of justice developed in him. felix had lived through injustice, watching his mother cry at the notion that their rent was once again overdue, watching kids in his neighbourhood go to school with holed backpacks, watching more and more of his peers give into pointless futures they had been aimed at. but the philosophy that his mother was part of an epidemic, that he had tainted blood, that his muggle-born friends had somehow warranted exile or death? felix wanted to do something about it. it was appalling to him when he questioned his peers on the sources of their beliefs and no one answer with logic he deemed acceptable. 

while hogwarts as a location was one of happiness, the school came hand in hand with a formal education, something he’d rebelled against even in muggle school. felix is smart and ambitious, but not a studious person and in the middle of fourth year decided to drop out. his plan was paper thin, as he didn’t really expect to return to muggle education either, just get any job and be done with it. for a fourteen year old, there was quite a lot of bitterness in his tone when he claimed that it had worked for his father. however, teachers convinced him to stay, reminding him that he could go further than anyone in his family ever had at hogwarts, and that there was potential in him. felix tried to leave a few more times before graduation, but they always pulled him back, his head of house especially, and he is incredibly grateful for it. having people who’d accomplished something say he could do the same, and caring so damn much truly changed the course of his life, and even at the time, felix knew he owed an awful lot to them. 

after graduating with some reasonable to good NEWTs, he got an internship at the daily prophet, and soon a proper job offer. REPORTER. his defense against the dark arts professor had suggested it after reading an essay by felix and for the rest of 7th year, felix paid closer attention to the way he formulated questions in class, to every word he wrote, to the newspapers that laid on the tables during breakfast. soon after scoring the job he moved out, all the way to london - impossibly far for his mother but a wave of a wand for him. every morning he stopped by with a copy of the confusing newspaper in which pictures moved and pieces spoke of events and people she did not know, but she’d read it carefully anyway. he did it to show her that he was doing something REAL, even when his pieces didn’t make it into the print. he had something solid. he’d gotten so much further than what any of them expected. 

although he began studying at hogwarts after the death eaters had been run out of the ministry, he went to a school that was in many ways still rebuilding. the injustices that made his blood boil in first year were very much alive and had deadly consequences as he was growing up. all of his life in the wizarding world was tainted by conflict, or the threat of conflict, or the aftermath of conflict - an uncertainty that made wizards all over hold their breaths. one of his first assignments for the daily prophet was to report of a burned down shop and its missing owners, common place in the times he lived. but the on and off tragedy came with other angry souls who demanded change and were ready to take it by their own hands - shortly after leaving hogwarts, felix was recruited into the order of the phoenix. he came armed with the fresh knowledge of a reporter and a big mouth ready to ask questions until he gets answers. and, above all, a lot of fight left in him.

NOW

felix was always very sure of every word he said, even when he shouldn’t. that certainty spilled into his actions, and he always made sure that whatever he was about to do, he could back it up in the future too, and thus his moral compass became rather strict. he knows what he believes in, he knows what for him are accepted plans of action and just how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and he doesn’t allow anything to try and move the lines that delimitate him. he adheres to this conduct to this day at the order, despite how much on and off war has jaded them all, and his reluctance about crossing his lines has cost him leadership roles many times.

he had his big break in 2019 after cornering a minister assistant into confessing collusion with notoriously death-eater assigned families, confirming bits of evidence he’d dug up, and uncovering how they’d been slowly attempting to make their way into power once more. for weeks, updates on the massive story with his name on it were on the first page as one by one he unveiled cases of such corruption within the ministry. ever since then, he’s been trying to achieve that level of notoriety again. he’s the up and coming man who burned very fast and has yet to prove that wasn’t just luck, even if just to himself.

DEATH TW, PARENTAL DEATH TW

that was also the year his mother passed away. after a few weeks of being bedridden at the hospital, which came as the climax of months of health issues surrounding faulty kidneys, mary rose was celebrated in a nearly empty funeral. felix’s coping method ranges from pretending like it didn’t happen and drinking to forget that it did. 

TW OVER

ever since he was a teenager, felix had found a companion in a good drink. as he started working and living on his own, what used to be a purely social activity started happening behind closed doors as well, as a way to loosen up after work or after a hard day with the order. he grew to have favourite bars, bars with his face in drunken pictures on the walls, bars where he was no longer allowed to come in. his struggles with alcohol abuse have grown over the years and his body, no longer of a 22 year old, is barely managing to keep up. however, it’s not something he’s ready to admit to anyone for now, and that is possibly the only lie ever honest felix is able to tell with a straight face. 

his father has come and gone, in and out of his life. lately he’s been somewhat of a leech, aware of his son’s stable employment, constantly visiting just to ask for money. which felix has given, despite his best judgement - he is indeed known to give everyone far more than what he can give.

felix has no real concept of boundaries. or of the notions that others might be a bit too much for him, or a bit too demanding, or a burden. if he believes he might be needed, he won’t wait for a call, he’ll be banging at your door. no concept of giving someone any space. what’s the point of having any closeness if he can’t pour himself at your feet, let you pick apart what you need for your fixing and then help you put it together? 

the joining of realities was met with much skepticism by felix at first and a sense of urgency that belongs to those at war: they did not have time to fool around with this (he very quickly started showing up at spots that in v2 are order hq or safehouses in hopes that they are locations of interest for versions of the order in other realities and that they’ll all fuse together). a certain bitterness rolled around too, not just due to having to apartment hunt ONCE AGAIN but the thought that maybe everyone else had it easy, peaceful, and his reality was doomed to on and off conflict. however, the more he dug in and discovered about other existences, felix took hope from it too. he simply didn’t know a reality in which the wizarding world around him wasn’t at war and yet it came with such ease to many others - would he believe in the future better if he’d always pictured himself having one?

MORE

felix truly believes that he can change the world if he pushes for more ethical and honest reporting. his goal is to be the editor-in-chief of the daily prophet! but at this point he might even just try to start something new tbh

when felix started earning a proper salary, he had no clue what to do with it. he’d been brought up with so little and expected to have so little in the future as well, that even a modest salary like his was a shock and you bet he bought his mum a nice dinner and himself a good tie. 

after breaking the big exposé on the ministry, felix was offered a book deal to cash in on his notoriety, which he turned down REALLY fast with a lot of confusion. ‘what am i, oscar wilde?’

while he prides himself in having held down this job rather well, the same cannot be said for other aspects of his life. felix is of an argumentative LOUD nature, and enjoys fleeing from his problems, all ingredients that turn friendships and relationships into disasters. his drinking became a problem in some too, but he won’t mention that. 

he is incredibly persistent, to the point of EXTREME annoyance, like a dog with a bone

there’s a lot of 20 something left in felix that he’s yet to shake off. he has a lot of maturing to do.

loves powerpoint so much?? will use it for anything. even at work, he WILL force his editor to let him show a powerpoint presentation on his laptop. will use it casually too to prove a point.

has so much energy. can jump off from place to place at all times. you can feel it radiating from him. speaks absurdly fast and LOUD, is always fidgety - he’s that dude at the order HQ throwing a tennis ball at the wall and back to him. starts conversations with “catch this”. twirls his wand between his fingers. probably plays with knives while drunk, way too close to his own fingers, because why not

walks the line between charming and nuisance

texts with ALL the abbreviations and might even make some up. he has better shit to do than text long properly written texts!!

doesn’t really care about what others think of him, as he thinks very poorly of himself most of the time anyway

if he believes he’s right, he’ll be mean and cynical and brutal. felix speaks his mind and often that comes with lots of hard edges

dresses in lots of layers and long jackets, but always with a tie on because that’s his professional attire. ALWAYS has a satchell on him, filled with notepads and muggle pens ( and a little flask ). 

always looks like he needs both a haircut and a comb. maybe a beard trim too. 

big communist, no joke, fuck yeah

felix, leaning a bit too far on a chair at hq, throwing a tennis ball at the wall:  we are all doomed u guys

really wishes he could be more optimistic most days :/

replies to way too many things with “hot.” and sometimes doesn’t cathc himself before throwing it as a reply to shit like ‘yeah and then we went to check the witnesses on that broom accident, awful’

he’s a very gestural person. speaking for felix means moving around, big physical gestures, arms flailing, a proper demonstration at times

has the messiest desk in the history of messy desks, and his colleagues just have to deal with it.

some stats, which you can find HERE.

click HERE for a bad pinterest board.

some character parallels: steven crain (thohh), karen page (marvel), greg serrano (cegf), elijah bradley (marvel), jake peralta (b99), alexander hamilton (musical), mike ross (suits), luke banjole (handmaid’s tale), rose tyler (doctor who), theodora crain (thohh), wes gibbins (htgawm), jessica jones (marvel), diego hargreeves (umbrella academy), lois lane (dv), jeff winger (community), meredith grey (grey's anatomy), shane madej (buzzfeed unsolved), nick miller (new girl), mike warren (graceland), clint barton (marvel COMICS pls), terry jeffords (b99), siobhan sadler (orphan black), poe dameron (star wars).

WANTED CONNECTIONS: 

class of 2009/2010: or not! felix was very noticeable at hogwarts. he didn’t do any extracurriculars or play quidditch, got average to bad grades, tried to keep his head down and avoid trouble, but had a big mouth! once there was a single opening, he just started rolling and good luck shutting him up! vaguely gossipy even oops. so from 2003 to 2010 he was around being a nuisance, which could have been taken very nicely or not 

and they were roommates: after graduating, felix moved out to london but he was certainly too broke to live by himself. some poor people had to put up with him for a few years before he finally started living alone - his early twenties were times of real intense going out and partying; and odd hours working in the living room; and also going back home with freshly healed injuries from warring with the order. he was certainly not a tidy or quiet roommate, but he’d always offer a glass of whatever he was having

the recruiter: felix joined the order as soon as he was out of hogwarts. not only did he have skin in the game, but he’s never known the wizard world properly without war and he’d do anything to many sure he and many others felt safer. there’s something that truly disgusts him in a visceral away about pureblood violence and bigotry, has since age eleven, and he has enough fight in him to get out there, hand and fists ready. since it didn’t take much convincing and he probably sought them out himself, this is someone who vouched for him and due to that, someone he always came back to whenever he had personal issues with how things were being ran, which was OFTEN. 

family in arms: he joined the order very young, as did many, and in a way they finished growing up there. for over a decade he’s fought with these people on and off, lost a few as well - this sort of shared trauma shared experience sort of thing :(

someone kick him out: being annoying around hq and loudly argumentative at meetings definitely lead to some people being done with him, even if they all fight for the same cause. who in the order is truly over his face??

spent youth: who partied hard with him during their late teens/early 20s and now is like wtf man why are u still going this hard why are u up drinking gin stop

drinking buddies: felix is a loyal man and can often be found at the same bar, so who’s chilling there with him? could be with good intentions, just pals,,,,, or Using Him in a drunker state to get some info he’d probably not divulge sober @ de

exiting: felix is notoriously bad at holding down relationships, do who dumped him?? 

dog with a bone: once felix feels like there’s something to dig, he will keep on digging and there’s little that can stop him. dangerously annoying, he can be up on multiple people’s businesses and this whole cat and mouse dynamic is what he lives off of

you again?: there’s certain people that, due to their jobs or connections, would be very alluring sources for him so catch him being a common nuisance

main contact: someone let him break news. someone call him first.

potential enemies: based off the DE he knows or suspects in his own reality, he’s got an eye out for people from other verses. he follows ‘innocent until proven guilty’ but that doesn’t mean lack of caution and there’s just so much distrust for people whose names or surnames he recognizes. rightful or not!

investigation buddy: who is with him trying to find out who is wrong and who’s right in all these worlds combined!! a very much on the down low sort of investigation into potential DE or war criminals but also into whatever the fuck is going on and who they can place blame onto. who’s sleuthing? 

[vagrantblvrd]

How about some mini-fics (ficlets???) from today’s GTA V video???

Alfreyco

====

The problem with dealing with independents like Alfredo is that -

“Sorry Trevor, it’s not personal,” he says, shrug in his voice. “Business.”

Trevor scoffs as he looks down at the zip ties around his wrists.

“Kinky,” he murmurs, and bites back a smirk at the sudden cough Alfredo seems to have contracted running around in this weather without a proper jacket and all. (Cold season, so tragic.) “Mind telling me who hired you this time?”

Alfredo gives Trevor a look, a shrug, and gentle hand on his shoulder to urge him along, answer enough because Trevor’s question aren’t part of the rules they set in place. (Cheating, really.)

“Don’t worry about it,” Alfredo says, tossing in a saucy little wink for good measure. “Not like you’ll be around here long.”

Yes, well.

The problem with dealing with independents like Alfredo is that Trevor <i>likes</i> him, doesn’t he.

Allows him to get away with this nonsense to bolster his reputation, draw more business his way. (Not every day you bag a Fake, let alone someone of Trevor’s standing.)

Because here’s the thing, about independents like Alfredo, you see.

People hire him to bring in troublemakers like Trevor. Have him hunt them down truss them up all nice and pretty for them. Pay him handsomely for it before they see him out the door.

Not his problem if they can’t hold on to said troublemaker once his part in things is done.

“Fine, fine,” Trevor sighs, glad it’s his day off so he won’t miss anything fun like meetings with B-Team to deal with the minutia involved in keeping a crew like theirs running or whatever chaos the core group has caused this time. “But I get to pick where we go for dinner on our next date.”

They’re not so much dates as Trevor extolling the benefits and whatnot of Alfredo joining their little band of misfits, but that whole business of <i>tomayto</i> versus <i>tomahto</i> and all.

“Deal,” Alfredo says, big old happy grin on his face that Trevor may or may not find endearing as hell.

(There’s a reason the crew loves to give Trevor shit regarding how kidnap-able he is when it comes to Alfredo.)

======== ========

Trevyan

====

“So,” Ryan purrs. Smug little smirk on his face and all-over insufferable. “About what you said earlier.”

Trevor sighs, because he’s got a big mouth and stupid brain and Ryan’s everything just does things to him.

He doesn’t correct Ryan’s misconception because the infuriating bastard will just twist it back on him, get this pleased little air to him while he does. (Trevor had meant the training exercise, not...bedroom activities, but Ryan’s very much Ryan, isn't he.)

This, right here? Ryan cornering him in a little out of the way place on one of the lower floors of the crew’s base is a problem.

Or should be, because Trevor’s got things to do, places to be. Can’t spend all day in the depths of the building with Mr. Vagabond like this, and yet -

“Tell you what,” Trevor says. Pitches his voice low, because secrets, and watches Ryan lean in further because who needs personal space bubbles? “You let me take care of crew business and we’ll talk all about it at home, hm?”

Trevor cheats a little. Rests his hand on Ryan’s chest, heartbeat strong and steady under his palm and this little smile on his face because Ryan is a study in contrasts. Complicated bastard, but he’s easy too.

Soft heart under everything and a lot of love to give, and he lets Trevor get away with far too much.

Ryan makes this noise in his throat and waggles his eyebrows in a patently ridiculous move.

“Oh really?”

Trevor snorts, because while Ryan is capable of pulling off suave when the situation warrants he’s too much of a lovable goofball when he’s not acting.

“We’ll have to see about that one, now won’t we,” he says, and presses a little kiss to the side of Ryan’s mouth as he ducks around him. “Now be good and help me with the armory inventory.”

They need to re-stock after the last heist, little jobs and training sessions since then, and have let it slide too long as it is. B-Team is getting increasingly passive aggressive in their e-mails the last few days.

There’s a sigh behind him, because Trevor’s a strong proponent of work before play, but when Trevor glances back Ryan’s following along without further complaint.

(Ryan’s also aware Trevor’s a fan of the adage work hard, play hard and knows they both stand to benefit from that later.)

======== ========

Gen

======

People underestimate Jack.

Look at her and dismiss her as less, weaker, based on some overblown, and entirely unwarranted sense of superiority based on outdated beliefs.

And that’s fine, because she’s learned to use it against those kinds of assholes. Lets them underestimate and dismiss her because it makes things easier for her.

It’s harder to pull one over on the Fakes, but it can be done.

They all know Jack’s specialty has more to do with vehicles. Speed demon behind the wheel, ace pilot behind the stick and whatever else.

She’s a decent shot and a passable sniper, but leagues behind the true marksmen in the crew’s ranks, the skilled and gifted snipers they’re lucky to have, and everyone knows it.

[elfrootaddict]

Now You Know - Chapter 5/8

CONTAINS SPOILERS - DO NOT READ ON UNTIL YOU HAVE COMPLETED DAI TRESPASSER DLC!

DESCRIPTION: Experience (my first) Lavellan’s thoughts and feelings during the final cut scene of the Trespasser DLC. Including her experience when she loses the Anchor.

Chapter 1 ¦ Chapter 2 ¦ Chapter 3 ¦ Chapter 4 ¦ Chapter 5 ¦ Chapter 6 ¦ Chapter 7 ¦ Chapter 8

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

To all those in Solavellan Hell,

I have written this to not only express my emotions but to hopefully capture some of yours, too.

After completing Trespasser, and going through the hell that is the final cut scene, I had to do something. So, to help myself work through it, I’ve written (my first) Lavellan’s thoughts and experiences down during the DLC’s final cut scene.

This is my very first FanFic, so I hope it doesn’t turn out completely terrible. *fingers crossed*

Happy Dragon 4ge Day!

WARNING: Chapter 6 contains a moment of distress and gore. Read with sensitivity and discretion.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

CHAPTER 5

When Lavellan was still Keeper Deshanna’s First, her priority was always to her clan and to the elves. Whether they were Dalish, city-born, followed the Qun or slaves of Tevinter. She always held the deepest, most sincere hope that there would come a day when the elves could be what they once were. That there was a forgotten ruin that contained the key to achieving that dream. Surely the past was better than their present? The answer was out there somewhere.

But after being thrown into the role as Inquisitor, she saw both the true beauty and ugliness of Thedas. Even though Keeper Deshanna had an open mind about the shemlen, which helped her not be so narrow-minded like other Dalish elves, she still hadn’t really seen the whole of Thedas.

There is a vast array of beliefs, cultures and practices. So many different types of shemlen! They truly weren’t one and the same. After her years as Inquisitor, she realised how small her world really was amongst the Dalish. 

This world may not be what it once was. It may not be Elvhenan. But it is still magnificent. It is my home. Everybody matters. The elves are not the one and only important race. No time is more important than another. 

Lavellan wants to do right by the Elvhen and improve their lives. Solas is that missing key. He can achieve what she has been dreaming for her people. But her eyes have been opened to what Thedas contained. It cannot be destroyed. 

She can also see how incredibly torn Solas is. Does he truly want to do this? Does he even have a choice?

There has to be another way. A different way. We can figure it out together, vhenan.

“Let me help you Solas.” begs Lavellan.

With his back still towards her, he rejects her assistance, “I cannot do that to you, vhenan.” 

She thinks back to being in the Fade. Solas’s gravestone of fear read ‘dying alone’. He did not see her notice it. She’s kept this knowledge of him to herself. But nevertheless, she knows one of his deepest fears and this causes great distress in her heart.

With her voice shaking and desperate she cries, “But you would do it to yourself? I cannot bear to think of you alone.”

“I walk the Din’Anshiral,” replies Solas with distress. “There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.”

Crushed, Lavellan closes her yes and drops her head. 

I will always love you, Solas. I will always accept you. Don’t you understand? 

Turning around to face Lavellan, Solas’s tone of voice changes. He is always better at suppressing his emotions than she is. Like simply blowing out a candle’s flame. 

In a matter-of-fact sort of way, Solas changes the subject, “It is my fight. You should be more concerned about the Inquisition. Your Inquisition. In stopping the Dragon’s Breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces. With luck, they will return their forces to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace.”

With her emotions all over the place, that nearly makes her burst out laughing. Why would he suddenly care about the safety of Thedas, when moments ago he declared he was planning on destroying it? And was it really ���her’ Inquisition? Solas has clearly been using the Inquisition to right a wrong. How many spies are there? She didn’t believe herself to be naive, but now she feels foolish. She does not like to be made a fool of. 

Now frustrated, her anger helps focus her thoughts. She is still Inquisitor and is going to get as much information out of him as possible. She knows she isn’t going to get a chance like this again.

“The Qunari said the Inquisition was unknowingly working for the agents of Fen’Harel.” asks Lavellan angrily, feeling deceived.

“I gave no orders.” Solas replies promptly.

Irritated she says, “You led us to Skyhold.”

“Corypheus should of died unlocking my Orb. When he survived, my plans were thrown into chaos,” he pauses. “When you survived, I saw the Inquisition as the best hope this world had of stopping him. And you needed a home. Hence, Skyhold.”

“You gave your Orb to Corypheus?” Lavellan asks with disgust. 

“Not directly,” Solas answers. “My agents allowed the Venatori to locate it. The Orb had built up magical energy while I lay unconscious for millennia. I was not powerful enough to open it. The plan was for Corypheus to unlock it, and for the resulting explosion to kill him. Then I would claim the Orb.” 

Solas looks down towards the ground and shakes his head in disbelief. “I did not forsee a Tevinter magister having learned the secret of effective immortality.”

With a quiet and downcast voice she asks, “What would have happened if Corypheus had died and you’d recovered the Orb?”

With his face unveiling the amount of remorse in his heart, “I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time… the world of the elves.”

“If you destroyed the Veil, wouldn’t the false gods be freed?” Lavellan asks alarmed. 

“I had plans.” he answers assertively. 

Lavellan is picturing Solas as... Corypheus. He has indeed changed in her eyes. In her mind's eye she sees him holding the Orb and disintegrating the Veil. She can’t stomach the fact that, should things have turned out as planned, Solas would of been the one responsible for the chaos that ensued. 

He is so tenderhearted, thoughtful, respectable and gentle. She can hear Varric saying, “It’s always the quiet ones.”

She knows his heart. But his mind has always been a mystery. She refuses to believe that Solas is completely alone in this decision. There has to be more elements at play here. 

She can see his heart and mind battling each other. He may be good at playing nonchalant, but she knows him better than he realises. There is something he is not telling her. Perhaps if he did, he would have to admit he needs help. Her help. 

Shaking her head in disbelief, “I never thought of you as someone who would do that, Solas.”

He looks away with relief, “Thank you.” 

Solas attempts to convince her, “You must understand. I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people’s conscious connection to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of Tranquil.”

Disturbed she asks, “We aren’t even people to you?”

“Not at first,” he says. “You showed me that I was wrong… again,” looking down with guilt he murmurs. “That does make what must come next any easier.” 

Despite all that has transpired, Solas still stayed to defeat Corypheus. Even though it seems pointless to her now, she always prided herself in displaying her appreciation towards others. It is something Keeper Deshanna ingrained into her.

“Whatever your reasons,” says Lavellan. “We couldn’t have defeated Corypheus without you.”

“Your doubts are misplaced,” declares Solas. “Everything you accomplished, you earned.” 

Lavellan feels comforted by his praise. She constantly craves for his approval in her decisions. He always had a wealth of knowledge and wisdom on hand. She thrives on learning from those around her and Solas had in abundance. 

Remembering his concern over the Inquisition, she has to know his thoughts on the matter. He would clearly offer sound advice that would be imperative to hear. 

“What’s wrong with the Inquisition?” she inquires. 

Solas gladly bestows his counsel, “You created a powerful organisation, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such: betrayal and corruption.”

“It’s not that simple.” says Lavellan ignorantly. 

With an air of superiority he explains, “Do you know how I discovered the Qunari plot? The plot I disrupted by leading them to your doorstep? The Qunari spies in the Inquisition tripped over my spies in the Inquisition. The elven guard who let you to the Qunari body, who intercepted the servant with the gaatlok barrel? Mine.”

“Why bother disrupting the Qunari plot, if you’re going to destroy the world regardless?” asks Lavellan in disgust. 

He answers sympathetically, “You have shown me that there is value in this world, Inquisitor. I take no joy in what I must do. Until that day comes, I would see those recovering from the Breach free of the Qun.”

“Why?” she asks bewildered. 

“Because I am not a monster,” proclaims Solas. “If they must die, I would rather they die in comfort.” he pauses. “In any event, it is done.”

Lavellan feels indebted to him. He helped her and Thedas… again. 

“I guess we owe you for that one, too.”

“I hope it gives your people some final peace.”

Without warning, Lavellan feels her mark starting to violently pulse in the palm of her hand. Cursing the Anchor in her mind she realises she has finally run out of time. Unlike Solas, she has never had a problem admitting she needs help. She needs his help. And she needs it now.

Trying to shake away the pain, in discomfort she says, “There’s still the matter of the Anchor. It’s getting worse.”

Solas looks away with grief, “I know, vhenan. And we are running out of time.”

And just like that, the Anchor flares up and it is the worst pain she has ever felt. It completely cripples her and she is unable to stand. The Anchor even propels her body forward. She has absolutely no control. Clenching and supporting her left forearm with her right hand, she grunts and cries with agony.

Solas slowly kneels down in front of her and says, “The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you… at least for now.”

Lavellan feels she finally understands his determination and conviction. Solas is a loyal servant of Mythal. He knew the All-Mother. From the Dalish tales and what Solas has described, Mythal was clearly the voice of reason amongst the Evanuris. She was wise in her judgements and loved by all who lived in Elvhenan. Solas’s loyalty to Mythal is enduring. And therefore, Solas has to see Mythal avenged and the lives of the elves restored to what it once was.

If she was in Solas’s position, she would also most likely be making the same choice. 

Their love did complicate matters. It was clearly unforeseen and something neither of them expected. 

Nevertheless, their love did happen. Their love has turned into a force unto itself. You can feel it in the air around them. It didn’t diminish in the time that they were apart - if anything, it only grew stronger. 

Even if Solas wouldn’t admit it to her or himself, she knows this is not the end. She knows him to be stubborn but she is stubborn, too. 

I may not save you today, my heart. But I will save you from yourself. I will not give up on you.

The Anchor has almost depleted all the energy she has left in her. She can feel her mind beginning to fade. The pain is just too much. 

In a desperate attempt, she cries, “Solas, var lath vir suledin!”

Looking down with remorse he says, “I wish it could, vhenan.”

Lavellan no longer holds back her tears. She has no more energy left for pretenses. Between the pain in her heart and her hand she can’t tell which one is more agonising.

Solas starts to lean in closer to her and whispers, “My love…”

Holding the side of her face in his hand, he guides her closer to him. His eyes light up with the same magic as before. Lavellan tries her best to ignore the pain of the Anchor and to just focus on him. 

She has never felt more at peace than when he is this close to her. This is where she belonged. This is where he belonged. When he finally kisses her, she can feel his yearning. She can feel his heart being torn in two. 

Should the Anchor kill her now, there would be no better way to die. She is in his embrace and that is all she could ask for. 

It doesn’t have to be this way, my Dread Wolf! You could stay! I can see it on your face!

Solas slowly stands up. With utter despair, only for her to hear, he whispers, “I will never forget you.”

Lavellan is still on her knees. The Anchor renders her powerless. She cannot move. She cannot run after him. 

He is walking away. 

For whatever it is worth, she can still use her voice. She has to try. 

With Solas almost reaching the eluvian, and with tears flooding down her face she cries after him, “Don’t leave me like this! Solas! Solas!”

Solas reaches the Eluvian. He stops. 

And without looking back, he steps through.