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amimimi · 4 years ago

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nightmares ; kyan reki

synopsis: in which Reki wakes up from a nightmare and you help him through the aftermath (take place after episode 7)

genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a fluffy ending

warnings: nightmares, panic attack, swearing,

word count: 2.5k

notes: this is sad af IM SORRY. i thought of this scenario when episode 7 dropped but I didn’t write it until recently. i'm going to do a part 2 to this post episode 11 and i promiseee it'll be a lot happier. I apologize in advance for spelling/grammatical errors.

it should’ve been movie night.

you should’ve been wrapped in reki’s arm watching pirates of the caribbean or some other corny movie, simply for the purpose of having not to exert any brain energy.

and you should’ve definitely been teasing reki by smacking noisy kisses on his face or blowing raspberries at the base of his neck.

but alas, it’s nearly midnight and you’re not doing any of aforementioned activities you should’ve been doing. instead, you’re finishing up a paper for your literature class due the next morning. reki, being the supportive boyfriend he was, offered to come over with snacks anyways to offer your moral support. “I gotta hold you accountable, babe!” reki grinned, squeezing your cheeks with both his hands.

that was nearly four hours ago.

currently, you’re furiously typing away at your paper with your legs stretched out in front of you. you were on your conclusion, trying to wrap up whatever you had written. your boyfriend is softly snoring beside you on your bed. he’s facing you, laying on his side with one hand resting on your lower thigh.

you paused from typing upon hearing reki sigh in his sleep. your heart swells and you have to hold back the urge to coo at the sight of reki drooling slightly onto one of your plushies. biting back a giggle, you set your laptop aside and snatch your phone off your bedside table.

after snapping four or so pictures, you notice reki’s brow is slightly furrowed. you still - thinking that you may have waken him up from shifting too much, until his brow furrows deeper and whimpers. your confusion morphs into concern and you realize that reki is having a nightmare.

shit. should you wake him? were you supposed to wake people from nightmares? you were sure you heard it makes it worse. or was that sleeping walking?

suddenly, reki’s eyes, bloodshot with sleep, flutter open as he rouses from whatever miserable dream he was having.

“reki?” you ask hesitantly as he struggles to sit up. he’s taking sloppy breaths, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. “reki, are you okay?”

you feel your heart drop into your stomach when you see a mixture of confusion and terror in reki’s eyes. his breathing is now bordering on erratic but he manages to wave you away with his hand. “M’fine, m’fine!” he assured you, though his voice is slightly shaking. “you can go back to sleep, sorry to wake you”

you frown. “reki, i wasn’t sleeping. i was writing my essay, remember?”

he just stares at you with an unreadable expression. you want to reach out and touch him—or hold him or something, but you stop yourself. you’re afraid you might make whatever it is worse.

“reki, are you sure you’re alright—?”

but he’s already climbing off your bed, his movements frantic and unsteady. you hear him choke out “just gotta go to the bathroom” between barely audible pants. and before you have time to respond, the bathroom door down the hall shuts but you don’t hear the click of the lock.

with that, you’re left sitting alone in your room. you blink a couple times before hesitantly throwing your legs over the side of the bed. there was no way in hell he was okay and you knew that. never once have you seen him shaken up— so panicked like that. the look in Reki’s eyes and the tremble in his voice was enough to activate the urge to protect. but you were also scared. scared of doing the wrong thing, of messing up and making it worse.

Sighing, you sit back on your bed and decide to give him 10 minutes to gather himself. if he needed your help, you reasoned with yourself, he would’ve asked...

...would reki have asked for help?

knowing the answer to that question, you hauled yourself off your bed and tip-toed out of your room. the house was silent, save for the soft pattering of your footsteps and your parents' soft snores wafting over from their room. as you approach the bathroom as quietly as you can, the faint sound of reki gasping frantically become becomes more evident, and your heart breaks. it takes every ounce of willpower not to break the door down and you take a deep breath before softly knocking on the door.

"reki, baby?" you whisper, with your your lips almost pressed up against the door. reki doesn't answer, but he's still breathing erratically from behind the door and you wonder if he even heard you. “reki?”

no answer. wondering if reki even had the chance to lock the door, you gently twist the knobs and find that your suspicions were correct. you push the door slightly open and your heart shatters.

reki is visibly shaking where he stands in front of the mirror as he grips the edges of the sink, his knuckles white. still taking shuddering breaths, he hangs his head down, his hair plastered to his forehead, and eyes squeezed shut. he’s too absorbed in regaining control over his body to notice you had opened the door.

trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, you whisper his name to get his attention. “reki?”

he hears you this time. reki’s head snaps up so fast you swore you heard a crack. with glossy eyes, he looks up at the reflection of your face peeking in through the door. initially, confusion crosses his face, as though he forgot he was even in your house. however, confusion is quickly replaced with recognition, and his shoulders sag ever so slightly with relief.

“y/n?” reki croaks, and your lips upturn into a sad smile. he takes the sight of you in just a bit longer, deciding if he should be honest with you—if he should ask for your comfort. instead, he lets his head hang once more. “s-sorry, you can go back to bed. i’m fine”

“you don’t seem fine, baby”

reki doesn’t respond, neither conforming or denying your statement. biting your lip, you open the door wider but keeping from stepping in the bathroom. you want to make sure he’s okay, but you don’t want to infringe on his personal space.

“‘are you sick?” you gently question, watching a bead of sweat drip down his temple. his head still hanging, reki shakes his head. “no?”

“i—” reki is cut off by defeated sob and your heart strangles “i can’t calm down”.

something about his confession makes you feel like you’ve been kicked in the stomach. the only thing going through your mind is to protect, protect, protect, protect.

reki’s erratic breathing picks up again, and you step into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

“okay, it’s going to be okay. i’m here”, you state as calmly as possible. “can i touch you?”

“y-yes” reki chokes out in between rapid breaths. with his consent, you step forward and gently place your hand to his back. his shirt is completely drenched in sweat, but you pay no attention as you rub small circles into reki’s back.

"you're going to be okay, i promise" you try to convince him, but he shakes his head.

"'feels like i'm dying", he says between harsh pants. a small frown forms on your face and you reach over to brush his hair out of his face.

"you're not, reki. you're having a panic attack and i know it feels really scary, but it'll pass" you tell him, trying to keep your voice firm. it devastated you to see him so distressed and you would've switched places with him in a heart beat if you could. "you're safe, i won't let anything happen to you, i promise"

you're not sure if reki believed you, but you meant it. reki was easily one of the most loving person you knew. he poured his heart into you making sure you always felt safe and heard. and not only for you, but for everyone he loved. you recalled many instances of reki grabbing and squeezing your hand in large crowds, ordering food for you whenever you felt shy. and if you had a big exam you were stressing about, he'd bring you breakfast and walk you into your class. reki was your rock so many times before, you wanted to be his now and forever.

reki suddenly jolts and you're snatched out of your train of thought. “'m so dizzy...” reki slurs, with his eyes squeezed shut.

“i know, baby”, you murmur, concerned that he wasn't breathing properly. “can you take a couple deep breaths with me?”

reki hesitates before giving a low sob, “i don’t know if i can"

"you can, reki. i'll do it with you, okay, love?" you soothe as you continue to rub his back. "breathe in through your nose-"

you take an exaggerated breath in through your nose for demonstration, and reki shakily breaths in. "good, you're doing good. and out through your mouth"

reki lets his breath out with a whoosh, and the heaviness in your chest dissipates just a little. "that's it, baby, you're doing so great" you coo. "now breathe in again for four second and out for four seconds. i'll count for you"

reki continues to take measured breaths in time to you counting and your hand doesn't once stray from his back. every now and then, you dab some sweat off his face with the sleeve of your sweater. you make sure to encourage him between breaths, to let him know you're not leaving. this continues on for a couple minutes until reki is able to take measured breaths on his own, without you counting. you never once stop rubbing his back. he's still trembling, but he seems to have calmed down a little.

“do you wanna sit down, maybe?” you’re eyeing the death grip he has on the edges of the sink to support himself up. the last thing you want is for him to collapse and potentially hurt himself. he nods his head, not opening his eyes. "bathroom or my bedroom?"

"bedroom" reki croaks, his voice sounding shot to hell. slowly, his teary eyes flutter open and he turns around to you, still gripping onto the sink. you both lock eyes and your heart bursts with love—like springtime erupted inside your chest.

"i'm so proud of you, reki" you whisper, stroking his face lovingly. he blinks at you before his bottom lip begins to quiver. for a second, you think he's gonna burst into tears but he only sighs shakily and leans into your hand. "come on, let's get you laid up and comfy"

•••

by the time reki is changed out of his sweaty shirt (he declined to take a shower, promising he'd wake up tomorrow to do so) and laid in your bed, he'd gotten through the worst of his panic attack. you had given him the snacks he had brought for you at the beginning of the night, prompting him to eat get rid of the shakiness.

now, reki was sat up in your bed, still donning the care bear blanket you draped over him and munching on a chocolate bar. he watched as you completed your skincare routine in front of your mirror. occasionally, you would glance over at him and smile reassuringly, to which he would tiredly smile back.

rubbing your moisturizer in, you make your way over to where reki is laid up on the bed. he's still chewing his chocolate bar, watching as you climb on the bed and pull yourself over to where he is laying. grinning softly, you tuck your feet under you and tuck a strand of hair behind reki's ear. he instantly nuzzles into your palm and oh, does your heart get soft.

"how do you feel?" you ask, your eyes scanning his face. the color has returned to his face, but his lips are chapped and his eyes are considerably sunken. "did you drink the water like i asked?"

"i'm feeling better and yes, i did" reki playfully retorts, sticking his tongue out at you. you purse your lips to one side and pinch his cheek, drawing a whine out of him.

"reki, look up at me real quick," you frown, holding his chin with your hand. reki momentarily forgets his chocolate bar and looks up at you, confused. you lean down and kiss him, staying like that for a couple seconds before you pull back with a grin. "there! all better!"

"was that supposed to be my get better kiss?" reki asks, his lips quirking with an amused smile.

"kinda? your lips were chapped so i wanted to give you some of my lip masque", you answer. reki rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the slight blush on his cheek. you giggle before reki wraps his arm around your shoulders and tugging you towards his chest. he grabs your nose with two of his fingers and you squeal with delight.

"what the hell is a lip masque?" he questions incredulously as you remove his hand from off your nose. you can't help the series of laughs that erupt from your chest. "oh my gosh, y/n, shhh! your parents will hear you!"

reki tries in vain to shush you, but he's giggling too, albeit a lot more quietly than you. when you manage to catch your breath, you pull yourself from reki’s grasp and sit up in front of him. the both of you smile softly at each other.

you wondered if you should ask him about his nightmare from before, although you had a feeling where this was stemming from. he seemed on edge—distant even, since the beef with adam. you remembered how distressed he was in the days leading up to the beef between adam and langa.

reki was still in a fragile state, you didn’t want to risk asking him about it so soon. maybe tomorrow? the day after that?

reki’s smile faltered. “you okay?” he asks quietly, bringing his hand up to your face. you blink, realizing that you weren’t doing such a great job of concealing your thoughts.

you sigh contentedly, twisting your head to kiss the palm of reki’s hands before placing your own hand over his.

“yes, i just—” you pause. “i just love you so much”

reki giggled and wow, was it the purest sound you’ve ever heard. he leans in and kisses you like you’re the most precious being in the world. “i love you too”, he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. you both stay like that, until reki yawns into your face.

“you need to rest, sweetheart”

reki frowns as you lay down, pulling him along with you. “but i am resting” he protests, stifling another yawn.

“i meant sleep” you reply, readjusting the carebear blanket around his shoulders. he tenses in your arms, but you press your lips against his forehead. “i’ll be here, i won’t leave. and i won’t let anything happen to you”

the tension in reki’s body eases and he sighs, nuzzling into your chest. “i love you...” he slurs, eyes already half shut.

“i love you” you whisper, fighting off sleep yourself. you waited until reki’s breathing deepened—the tell-tale sign of sleep, before you let yourself drift off too.

notes: this was long as hell, part ii will be way more happier and wayyy shorter.

#sk8 the infinty #reki #reki x reader #sk8 the infinity x reader #reki kyan x reader

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novelist-becca · 4 years ago

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TOH Fanfic recs! Part 1

(All of these people are my inspiration I stg)

Found family

Make my heart your home series by @tiredandjaded

First fic: Luz accidentally calls Eda "mom" and they both have a crisis over it. Mostly Luz. Second fic: post-YBOS, Luz tells Eda and Lilith of what happened during the rescue mission, and both Luz and Eda give Lilith a shovel talk. Third fic: Luz and Eda are both taking care of each other in the first seven days after coming home. Includes fun sibling bonding!

(Patiently awaiting the next chapter of the third installment!)

Literally anything by @hereforthehurts

The way they write emotions and hurt/comfort is seriously amazing. Never fails to make me cry, especially when it comes to sickfics and fics of Eda and Luz. (I recommend supporting them on Ko-Fi!)

You Are My Sunshine by @liesminelli

One of the first Owl House fics I ever read, and it's SO good! Luz has a night terror and Eda walks in on her freaking out, and it goes from there. The emotions of both characters are very well-written, and the ending is so sweet! I also recommend checking out their other works too!

It's The Least I Could Do by @witchesbeforewizardss

There aren't enough fics of Luz and Lilith bonding, and this is one of the BEST ones. Lilith needs more healthy relationships, and in my opinion, building an aunt-niece relationship with Luz is a great place to start! (next to making amends with Eda) Basically, Luz is feeling homesick, and before dinner, she allows Lilith to help her feel better.

Luz's Not So Great Luck and

A Friendly Beastly Surprise by @animerunner

The first fic has a large abundance of angsty scenarios, mostly AUs, all of which are wonderful to read. My personal favorite is the one where Luz is an orphan and she has a chronic illness, and well, you'll have to read to find out! The second one is canon compliant, and it's about Eda turning into the Owl Beast and treating Luz like an owlet, and Luz is just like "guess this is my life now". It's so cute!

Rainy Day Makeovers by @fallenflowersfromgrace

To summarize, There's boiling rain, and Luz convinces Eda to spend time with her giving each other makeovers. It's very cute, and I love it!

Some Honesty Before Breakfast by @pizzaboat

Eda notices Luz is acting unusual, and gets her to open up. It's in-character, and wonderfully executed.

Thank you for being in my life by @peridot-garcia

Episodes of The Owl House from Eda's perspective, and as of now, also Luz and Lilith's perspective. It's got wonderful found family scenarios, and so far the plot is pretty great!

Lighting up the Dark by The_Quoter

This is a very recent one, and I love it! It's post-Young Blood Old Souls, and Eda comes to terms with how much Luz means to her, while also helping her come out of a nightmare.

The Light Behind Your Eyes by ABirdinFlight

Post-Young Blood. Eda gives Lilith a shovel-talk (harsh but well-deserved) and has a heart-to-heart talk with Luz in her room.

Moonlit Masquerade: Replacement by Rohad

Similar to make my heart your home, Luz accidentally calls Eda "mom" and both of them have a crisis over it. (As expected!)

Bad Days by @drabbles-of-writing

Part of their Four Years AU, Luz has an episode, and Eda takes her home to help her calm down. It's very bittersweet and heartfelt.

Gratuitous Embellishments of Chicken Noodle Soup by Rulerofthecosmosandsnails

Luz almost drowns at the Knee, but her Owl Mom is there to help her get better, including making her soup! (Yeah, my fic Snow Day was inspired by this)

A Line Crossed by Clevinger

AU in which Luz dies by the spikes at the bridge, in front of Eda, who thankfully resurrects her, and as expected, Luz is having a hard time handling it. There's another work inspired by it called Too Much, Too Late by TheHonestyBird.

A nightmare and a hug by moreteaplease

Reeaaally hard to find since it doesn't have the relationship tag for Luz and Eda, but still, it's very good! Post-YBOS, Luz has a nightmare and goes to Eda for comfort, confessing that she misses her mom.

Sleepless Nights by @snail-watch

Similar to the one before this, Luz has a nightmare and goes to Eda for comfort. I loved the way the author wrote Eda's thoughts about Luz!

Mending Trust by @electricwalkman

Similar to The Light Behind Your Eyes. Eda puts Luz to bed, and Luz tells her about the portal being destroyed, and gives her the mask piece. Eda comforts her, as well.

Night Owl and

The Bad Dream Club by @thedrunkenwerewolf / @wolfiethewriter

Eda has trouble sleeping, Luz notices, and Eda confessed that she's scared of hurting Luz as the beast. Luz of course, reassures her by telling her it won't happen. The second fic is the other way around, sorta. Luz has a nightmare and gets herself a drink to calm down, and Eda finds her.

Dreams of a Witch by TheDinosaurNerd

Eda talks to her younger self in her mindscape about her life as a wild witch. (In the end it turns out to be Luz in her lap.)

Griffon Flu by @serendipitouslyss

Another great sickfic! Luz gets the flu, or Griffon Flu as it's called in the Boiling Isles, but Eda and King are more than willing to help her get better.

Owlet by spotty8bee

Ah, the cursed AU that started it all. Only 2 chapters, but it's wonderfully heartbreaking and you really feel for Eda in the second half of chapter 1.

Observations of the Witchy Kind by JoLau

If you like platonic cuddling, you'll love this fic! Luz wants to learn about witch biology, but unfortunately Boscha burns the notebook that had her research, so she tries to rewrite her observations, and ends up catching Eda's attention.

I Need You, Please Don't Leave Me by rainbowpotato12

Luz is having bad thoughts, and worries that something bad could happen to Eda again, but Eda reassures her it won't.

This is Home by SpaghettieBabie

Luz has doubts about herself, and opens up to Eda about it, confessing that she likes her as her mother figure.

I Love the Found Family Trope! by @l-egionaire

Takes place after The Intruder. Eda thinks that Luz and King might leave her after knowing about the curse, and they tell her they would never do that.

Nightmare by OneandOnlyOllie

Another nightmare fic! Eda comforts Luz after a nightmare. Lilith hears the two, and wants to make things right with Luz.

It was not, in fact, a day out by @pizzaboat

Post-YBOS. Eda turns into the Owl Beast, tries to cuddle Luz, Lilith and King in her nest, and they have to come up with a working scheme to turn her back. Basically The Intruder if Lilith was there.

A broken brain by @pizzaboat

I can relate to this one a lot (except my adhd is diagnosed). Luz has trouble focusing on homework, and doesn't know why, and tells Eda she thinks she's going crazy, but Eda tells her she's not, and that Lilith had a similar problem.

What big claws (to protect you with my dear) by @ito-itonomen

AU where Luz is 10 and Eda takes her in, and both of them have doubts about themselves. Chapter 2 is especially good.

Unexpected Hope by @sepublic

Luz talks to Lilith about how she had (surprisingly) inspired her.

Lilith and Eda

Mistakes Might Have Been Made by @fallenflowersfromgrace

WARNING: you will definitely cry in the second chapter!

An AU in which Lilith split the curse with Eda the first time she transformed. Of course, by the time she reveals that she cursed her, it doesn't go well. (Eda's reaction hurts, but it's in character) and the pain in chapter 2 is just…AGONY AND ITS SO GOOD!

Walk Through the Storm, I Would by @lilithswxfe

Trigger warning for self harm and suicidal thoughts in this fic.

Lilith tries to hurt herself while in a bad state, but Eda catches her and comforts her.

Source Decay series by @tiredandjaded

Trigger warning for underage drinking in the second fic.

Two pre-canon fics about Lilith and Eda, the first fic portraying Eda as trans and how she's feeling about her name, and how Lilith helps her. The second one is sadder, it's after the curse and Eda isn't taking Lilith coming home late very well, leading to some…not-so-great coping mechanisms.

Rabbit Heart by radiantstaber

It has found family Owl Mom moments, but then it is mostly about Lilith and Eda rebuilding their relationship, with Luz trying her best to encourage both of them. (The description is very funny, describing the Owl House as a get along shirt.)

The Cafeteria Incident by @electricwalkman

Remember that page from Eda's record about Eda summoning abominations because somebody stole Lilith's lunch money? This is based on that, and it's SO GOOD!

Runaway Raven by @witchesbeforewizardss

Trigger warning for graphic injuries

In both Lilith thinks she doesn't belong with her family in the Owl House, and tries to "punish" herself. Eda convinces her that it's not worth it and she just wants her sister back.

The Long Night by @serendipitouslyss

Post-YBOS, just like The Light Behind Your Eyes. Eda puts Luz to bed, and she and Lilith have a long talk. (Though she's not as harsh.)

A Midnight Talk by @elizabethemerald

Lilith sees Luz having a nightmare, and calms her down for a little bit (via stroking her hair). Eda sees her, and the two have a talk.

I Need a Moment to Quiet This Pain by @come-unhinged

Moments in Eda's life and how she dealt with her curse.

Part 2 might have Lumity idk

#long post #fanfic recommendation #fanfic #fanfiction #fic recs #the owl house #toh #owl house #the owl house fanfiction #found family #Luz noceda #eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #Lilith clawthorne #Clawthorne sisters #eda the owl lady #eda the owl mom #mom Eda

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 years ago

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Hello there! Which country/ countries do you think would love a s/o who is into cottage core? What about dark academia? Ooh! What about some aesthetics that you like??

Hello, Lovely~!

I regret to say that when I first started working on this ask, I was only going to delve a little bit into each of your questions, but my heart insisted on expanding each answer for you, and... Well...

I'll be dividing this into two different posts, as everything together is far too long to put into a single answer. ^_^;

In general, I don't think the Nations would be particularly attracted to someone for their aesthetic per say. In order to approach this, I instead tried to picture which of the Nations would likely mesh best with said aesthetics, and a few scenarios were born.

First up is Dark Academia, which kind of veers a bit more into the gothic/horror vibes than I was anticipating, but came to absolutely love as I went along.

Hope you enjoy!

Dark Academia:

Austria

Roderich has always been a perfectionist, often spends hours practising each day.

He's often finding inspiration for his compositions in seemingly the most mundane moments, has ruined many a journal and napkin with his frantic, sporadic writing, scribbling away in shorthand with almost a manic zeal.

You never fault him for it; he breathes music, each inhale and exhale just another crescendo and decrescendo in an ever-changing, uncharted symphony.

Recently however, he's lost his footing, loses his sense of direction even in his favourite concert halls.

You often catch him falling asleep at the piano, rehearsing long into the night, the calluses on his fingertips broken and crusted with dried blood.

The room is always a mess now; spilled ink coats crumpled, scattered music sheets, wax from the candelabra has melted down and solidified on the runner, one of the chairs has been broken in what you pray was an accident.

In the passing, fleeting, yearning moments when he steps away from it all, those rare moments when you coax him to eat and drink, to bathe, to sleep-

He rambles almost incoherently about the perfect symphony- frenetically, feverishly- pleads with you to help him, to ground him, to rid him of the thrice-damned refrain.

He is haunted- nay, plagued- by the song, obsessively begins to rewrite over-and-over again, cursing himself, cursing his limitations.

It kills you to see him in such a state, a witness to the near discordant harmony of anguish and ambition.

You ache to stop him, to ensure this spectre never haunts another living soul.

But you've heard it yourself, just enough to know you can't stop him.

It took only a few, hypnotic measures for you to succumb to its spell, to this dangerous, intoxicating melody that will do anything to be heard.

Belarus

Natalya is hiding something from you, something that has her constantly looking over her shoulder, has her more guarded than ever before.

You knew from the very start that she keeps secrets, knows things that you can never know- and frankly never want to know.

She drew you in with her layers, a softness buried deep, hidden behind a sharp tongue, guarded by a sharper blade.

At first glance, there is no gentleness to be found, no weaknesses to perceive.

She is quick.

And sharp.

And lethal.

Yet you knew, as you know now, there is far more to her than meets the eye, a quiet kindness and vulnerability that can only be earned with time and patience.

She used to reveal that to you, so often in fact that you had forgotten what that brusqueness even looked like.

To see her resorting to her old habits alarms you, terrifies you, has you glancing over your own shoulders even while running your usual errands.

She sneaks out a lot more these days, slipping away into darkened alleyways, disappearing into the fog and the night.

You follow her, aching for answers only she can provide, only finding more questions with every step.

A sense of urgency and desperation creeps across your skin as you walk faster, and faster, and even faster still.

You have to know.

You have to know what secrets she's hiding, why she's hiding.

In this one instance, you can't let her go on her own, can't risk her shouldering this burden of knowledge alone.

You have to help her; you have to know the truth.

She leaves behind codes written on wrappers of her favourite biscuits, messages and warnings alluding to something she's anxious that you keep out of.

Her fears only fuel your curiosity, and it isn't long until you're breaking into her safe, pouring through half-burned file folders and unmarked floppy discs.

You'll find the truth here somewhere, just as you're sure you'll figure out where she's disappeared to for the past nine days.

You continue your search for answers- both hers and your own- and know they're following you now, just as they followed her.

This is a dangerous game, and the more you learn, the deadlier it becomes.

But she's counting on you, wherever she is.

You will not rest until you find her and- together- finally expose the truth.

England

Arthur teaches you the power of words, a lesson you learn too late.

He lures you in with a bashful smile- always such soft smiles- and the perfect words.

He weaves them with practised ease and expert care, wields them as weapons only whenever truly necessary.

He always knows exactly the right words to say to you, never once stutters or second guesses, always speaks with a soft confidence that is just as beguiling and bewitching as his smile.

He introduces you to older and older texts, pages yellowed from age, the little sunlight entering the room scarcely offering enough visibility to make out each letter, to identify the source of the musty, metallic scent mingling with the dust and ancient leather.

When realisation finally strikes its fatal blow, you nearly drop the book in your alarm, its tawny sienna script striking you violently with nausea.

You frantically rush for the door, only half-aware of the creeping ivy, of the growing mist, focused only on your flight.

You're so close to escape before he's stopping you, crafting the perfect cage with a soft voice, gently luring you back in again-

Again and again as he has always done before.

Always such pretty words, always that soft, knowing smile.

You never think to question his isolation, never think to ask why he only meets you in empty corridors or forgotten rooms, never think to learn why no one else seems aware of him.

Every doubt that does come to mind, any question that arises beyond your obsessive, frantic studying-

Everything fades from thought with just the right words, whispered oh-so-gently.

It's only when you happen across an old, nearly forgotten legend that you begin to pull apart the deception, expose the hidden layers, read between the lines, and finally comprehend the gravity of your circumstance.

Words have power, he has told you- warned you- countless times.

He has always used such pretty words, such perfect words-

Words meant to charm and bind you.

Madagascar

Sakina talks in her sleep, during those few nights when your schedules sync up.

You're used to her long, odd work hours, and have long grown accustomed to her dedication to the Lab.

But she's been... off, lately.

There's a restlessness in her tapping fingers, a sense of apprehension and tension hanging around her as she pours over old reports, haunted eyes constantly drawn back to the shore.

So little of it makes sense; you've learnt enough through your time together to vaguely understand the abstracts from the dozens of articles littering her study, but you don't understand the chaotic mess of half-finished formulas and unfamiliar symbols covering her whiteboard, nor do you see the correlation to the dozens of newspaper clippings she has taped sporadically about the room.

She's taken to reciting equations in her sleep now, constantly has nightmares about... It.

She's sleeping less-and-less, has exhausted your coffee stockpiles, repeatedly begs and warns you to stay out of the water.

You're desperate to understand what is stealing her away from you, desperate for answers, desperate to save her from whatever precipice her research has led her to.

She's so lost to her research that she scarcely notices your presence over her shoulder, never seems to notice when her desk is rearranged from your own reading.

Slowly, you are starting to understand her frantic scribbles, are starting to understand the connection between all the journals that, once, seemed to have no correlation whatsoever.

You have your suspicions, you have your doubts.

Yet you can't argue with the years of evidence, can't argue the facts right in front of you.

You desperately try to convince yourself that you're wrong, that she's wrong.

But the more you learn, the more certain you are of the truth, the more you begin to dread the very thing she's been studying all along.

Thanks for the request, Lovely! I hope you enjoyed, and keep an eye out for some cottagecore soon~

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cotton-candy-in-a-thong · 3 years ago

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Noncon stories, Fantasy vs. Reality, and more. fucking. issues.

Recently, I’ve been hit with some drama as to why I’m a “bad person” by various, anonymous users in this fandom. I thought I’d try to address the claim, address my stance on fics that involve noncon, and what I think about the “Tumblr mentality” after everything I’ve seen of this place. I should also note that I’m going to use the specific words and phrases I’ve been forced to constantly repeat as explaining my stance has been very difficult for me, as I’m a person who’s apparently challenging to understand.

This is going to be a long post, with subjects that's obviously going to trigger people so here's a warning right now..

That being said, I’m going to dive into this with some shit I’ve definitely said before:

“Consensual Noncon” Kink

The Appeal of this Theme in Fanfiction:

I don't think calling fics that involve noncon "rape fics" and those who enjoy it "getting off to rape" is a very good way to put it. Many engaging and well done media pieces often involve some very dark themes. Again, Monster by Meg and Dia is a song that features the main character sexually abusing a girl he met. You COULD call this a "rape song", but acting as if the rape is the only thing that matters in this story would be pretty..naive. The story has to do with an emotionally, and physically neglected/abused boy, who grows up and becomes an attention/love starved monster who's SO starving for validation, that he believes forcing himself upon a girl he knew would "prove" to himself that he's capable of being touched and loved. Of course, the main character eventually realizes that rape is not love, that what he did was wrong, and later kills himself in his own bathtub with kerosene and a match.

However, the assault aspect of this song is still a meaningful and alluring part because it talks about how emotional and physical abuse can warp someone's perspective on reality, to the point where they think forcing someone to "stay" with them is how to create a healthy relationship. That's the same energy I have for noncon fics, especially in the slasher fandom. Many slasher fics that contain noncon often have to do with the slasher preying on the reader because of their own fucked up mind. It's intriguing because, let's be honest, pretty much none of the slashers are in a pretty good mental space lmao. Thus, noncon actually falls more in line with how slashers would go about what they believe is a "good relationship" more often than quite a bit of fans here seem to believe. Again, Michael got boners, Jason chained someone up, Fredddy smooches people against their will, Billy Lenz is a sex offender, Chromeskull makes snuff, yada yada yada, you know the drill. That being said, it's interesting to see noncon being expressed with these characters because it gives us a new perspective on how fucked up they'd likely be if the world of sex and relationships was introduced to these characters.

Now why would some people become sexually aroused by the events of the story? First of all, how does “Consensual Noncon” kink work?

u/Jumbledcode. (2015). ‘Can anyone comment on why people (someone like me) enjoy rape/non-con story lines?’. r/TwoXChromosomes.

“I'd suggest that there are several factors that make up the appeal of non-con fantasies.

Guilt/Self-image: For many people, their sexual/relationship desires don't necessarily match their image of themselves, or alternatively they feel guilt over others' perceptions of those desires. Rape fantasies allow them to mantain some illusion of denial over their desires while still indulging in the idea of them.

Responsibility/Laziness: The appeal of abdicating control isn't limited to avoiding guilt; it's very tempting to want a scenario where you have no responsibility for maintaining your lifestyle/happiness. Similarly to before, it's the appeal of being given what you secretly want without even having to choose it.

Transgressiveness: A rape scenario has overtones of danger and taboo-breaking. These can easily be exciting and can therefore be a turn-on.

Desire: Being wanted is often a huge turn-on, and the idea of someone desiring you enough to break laws and disregard everything to have you plays into this feeling.

To me, it seems that most people who fantasize about being the subject of rape do so due to some mix of these motivations I've mentioned. Of course, there are also those who have experiences which have taught them to associate non-consent with their sexuality, but that's a separate issue”.

What if the Fanfic Only Involves the Act though? Wouldn’t it Encourage Actual Rape?

Let’s differentiate fantasy and reality. Towards those with the noncon kink: it offers arousal because of the ideas listed above (the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). Rape is the use of sex to remove control over the victim’s mind and body. The readers DO have control over whether or not they get to “encounter” (the choice to even read) this fantasy, so right away consent is present in reality, and no actual rape is being done.

Now does this mean that the kinkers are getting off on the idea of rape? Not really.

The thing with self-inserts is that it allows you to be connected to the story. That way, even if the story has you bruised up and begging for mercy, a part of you-you (if you’re a kinker) wants to keep reading it as you find it exciting. That way, as you and story-you are connected, what you really want in such a fantasy is for it to keep going despite the brutish, possessive, however yet desired nature of the character you’re dreaming about dealing with. (repeat: the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). That being said, it’s still entirely possible for kinkers to have their personal space and wishes crossed, and ultimately assaulted. Us enjoying the fantasy of such a reverie sexual encounter does not spell out to real life because (in reality) we’re not horny all the time, we would still like our bodies to be respected when we find it necessary, and we still have feelings as we’re still human.

“Fantasy (including video games) leads to violence” fallacy.

It would be like assuming that shooters in games like GTA fantacise about murder, encourage it, and would do it in real life. Taking fabricated anger out on virtual bodies or NPCs is quite different from the weight of murder (the killing of another human being). One can play video games with lots of violence towards such fabricated characters, while discouraging violence towards human beings. The act of using a game controller to beat up Donkey Kong in Smash, to shoot Nazi zombies in a Black Ops game, or to kill a Geisha in Little Nightmares is incredibly, and immensely different from completely eradicating the life of a person on Earth, and to assume that everyone who plays violent video games would spill out to violence in reality would be to participate in a ridiculous fallacy. Yes, there are outliers who are feeble minded enough to let their fantasies influence their actions towards actual people, but I must repeat that there are also people who utilize these fantasies for their personal satisfaction, while understanding the weight of the real world around them (and choosing not to act so detrimentally). Therefore, it wouldn’t be fair as it would be unnecessary to blatantly say that all fantasies are horrible and should be entirely eradicated if there ARE many people who ARE aware enough to understand that some thoughts are better off staying in fiction.

Now is the time to address what’s been said:

...Firstly, I think it’s very disgusting that random users, on Tumblr of all places, are trying to manipuate random victims of sexual assault into hating something or someone just because these users FEEL like “it’s the right thing to do”.. People, victims of sexual assault aren’t your fucking dogs. They’re not carriage horses, they’re not your work mules, they’re not your guns and swords...they’re just people who normally wanna be left the fuck alone like everyone else. Plus, there ARE people who have experienced sexual assault who take joy in reading such dark storylines. What would these users have to say to them? That they’re not “real” victims? That what they’ve experienced “never happened”? That they’re “just like” their own perpetrators for using the consensual nonconsent to miraculously help them overcome their trauma? Should they really abandon their coping mechanism just because there are other victims who cope in different ways?

..If you seriously believe that all people who have gone through a traumatic event are gonna cope in the exact same fucking way, you literally don’t even know enough about PTSD to even be making a bold statement about cope.

This is the part where I finally realized that people, and especially those on Tumblr, don’t actually care about rape victims as much as they may claim. Many users on here, on this platform and in this fandom, don’t truly give a flying monkey shit about rape victims as people, nor what they have to say about the subject. Rape victims..on this place..seem to be used mainly as a means of figurative weaponry for a group’s subjective morality.

I find the similarity close to radical feminism. Radical feminists often believe that women, from near and far, have to do everything in their power to “destroy” the patriarchy. This would mean disobeying the societal expectation of women, even if there are some women who take joyment in engaging in some societal standards for their personal liking. An example would be sex work. Radical feminists acknowledge the flaws in performing sex work, but believe that NO woman should EVER partake even if the woman wants to do it out of her own free will. In demonizing and ostracizing any woman who doesn’t fall into the radical feminist agenda, radical feminists actually contradict their purpose to “let women be free”. At this point, you realize that radical feminists often don’t actually give a fuck about what any woman wants for herself. Instead, radical feminists want to utilize any woman they can find just to flip off men as a group.

In Tumblr users trying to “stand up” for rape victims for their personal “holier-than-thou” ego, they fail to care enough about the very people they defend to understand the dynamics of some of their coping mechanisms, thus begin to bully some members of the group they claim to protect because of the very narcissism, misunderstanding, and controlling nature going on behind their own “activism”. So now that some users have found something to hate, in this case being noncon stories, they attempt to manipulate victims of rape into ostraciszing and demonizing fantasies and other victims of rape just because the “activists” themsleves don’t like it. Even trying to argue that rape victims have a “duty” to agree with everything these “activists” try to do for them.

Sounds awfully familiar to the attitude democrats have towards any minority when it’s time to vote. “I care about you...but you have to agree with everything I say and believe because I want what I think is best for you. If you disagree with me, you’re ungrateful and a traitor”.

Now...a little about myself.

I’m not sure of everyone else who’s into the noncon type of story, but I use it to get away from my past. In noncon stories, I want to read what happens in the chapters. I want to imagine them for morbid curiosity and arousal I feel at the time being. In reality, my attackers didn’t care when I wasn’t in the mood, and never gave me a choice. In noncon stories, I get to choose the character I want to encounter in the fantasy and NOT have it picked FOR me. In real life, I didn’t get to choose who did some things to me. In noncon stories, I get to stop reading them and do something else whenever I’m not feeling it anymore. In reality? My attackers kept going because, in the situation, it was no longer up to me. After noncon stories, my body doesn’t walk away with bruises, bite marks, and physical reminders every time I take my clothes off or try to masturbate. In real life...that shit can mark you, disease you, and then traumatize you. With the stories, I get to delete my search history, join another fandom, and act like nothing ever happened. For reality? Your own body is a reminder of what happened because it was real. In reality, I’m NEVER gonna fucking forget what happened. I’ll be lucky if my own mind and body doesn’t haunt me for at least one day..

So seeing that someone, and probably multiple people not only tried to use victims of sexual assault for their own “go get em” dogs, but to try and phrase me as someone who loves and encourages such an assault on human beings? After the things I felt? After the things I tasted? After pathetically searching for the support of relatives, just to get shut down with “you’re lying”?..

...All the times I've been held down..threatened..clothes getting snagged off..parts being opened and touched after I've fought to just get the fuck away from certain people...

According to this anon..."she likes rape".

...I guess I just fucking LOVED EVERYTHING THEN.

You know...all my life I’ve been misunderstood by many people. It’s honestly really disappointing that even now when I’m better at explaining myself than ever, I’m STILL being phrased as a “psychopath” by random people who haven’t even taken the time to even know me. Not even from a minute-long conversation through a damn computer screen. And you wanna know the funny thing? I’m probably being laughed at as this is being read. Some of these users, these internet stalkers, are probably giggling, smiling, and saying “Haha YES we GOT the bitch!! Cry you piece of shit SLUT!!”. So maybe explaining my past experiences to help everyone understand why some people may use noncon stories to their fantasy advantage is gonna land me messages going: “You haven’t been raped you lying bitch”, “Maybe you should get raped again”, “You definitely enjoyed it”, and the overused, yet strong “Kill yourself”.

So how am I gonna end this message? With me saying that many of you, who THINK you’re doing the right thing by justifying harassment and trying to manipulate others into joining your little crusade to bully people away from the fandom (over extremely mundane fucking things)...aren’t really good people. At best, in this case...you’re fucking stupid. You will never truly speak for any of the marginalized groups you claim to know like the back of your hand. Simply, you will never. be. a hero.

If by chance, by an astrological chance..that any random user wants to come up and apologize out of the blue for talking such shit and for saying such things..I don't even wanna hear it...just get the fuck out of my face..

#slashers #slasher fandom #tw noncon #consensual noncon #fandom drama #long post #past experiences #anon ask

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haworthiaace · 3 years ago

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I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’.

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.”

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before.

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness.

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?”

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

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The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance.

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.”

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper.

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing.

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man.

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this.

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls.

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.”

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.”

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. “Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.”

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t.

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness.

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #joe hills #technically?#my writing #tw blood #tw possession #tw ghosts #ask to tag because theres a lot here #tango is being an asshole and its great #im not exactly sure what to do with the breaks between scenes #if anyone has a better way of doing that please help

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Mold Me New (1) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Introducing the reader’s backstory, exploring her life as a wife and then as a single woman who is slowly getting to know herself as an individual person.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are mild curse words, a bit of a sad vibe regarding falling out of love and getting a divorce, description of several bad dates and good ones that end badly, mention of getting drunk, mention of sex toys, mention of one night stand.

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines, and in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

I forgot to mention, bc I’m dumb and bc we’re becoming one body with two souls, but this chapter (as most of the decent, edited things I post) was beta read by the magical @joheunsaram (she’s recently lost her previous blog and she’s rebuilding it, please go say something nice and YOU SHOULD FOLLOW HER SHE’S A QUEEN ,,,,, my queen 🥺✨)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

When you fall in love with someone, the feeling is like entering a chocolaterie. The scent engulfs you, full and rich and sultry, igniting your senses, the heat making your skin glisten in a light sheen of perspiration, making you exceedingly vulnerable to pointless stuff, like the way your lover exhales. Or their hands skimming your arms.

At least, that was what your best friend had told you.

You had none of that. To you love was a daisy being twirled under your nose, sharing cotton candy, the smell of crisp apples, flannel sheets, the sound of dead leaves crackling under matching footsteps, a sturdy but shiny steel band around your finger suddenly substituted by a golden one.

That had been the beginning of the end. When practicality and simplicity had turned into conventionality and disinterest.

When gifts stopped being things you loved and became things he thought you loved. And then things everyone loved.

When love became a chore, that's when everything crumbled. When kisses became just a good morning and a welcome back, when there were no more laughs echoing in the kitchen, when leaves kept falling but it was your footsteps alone making them crackle, when flannel sheets kept feeling warm but still something was missing — because someone was missing — when suddenly there was no more time for fairs and cotton candy, when daisies became roses, Love stopped making sense. It stopped having a meaning for you.

You were no longer sure of the life you had built with the man of your dreams, the boy you had fallen in love with when you were eight, the guy who had walked with you across the corridors of your high school, who had made you twirl under the lame disco ball of your prom, who had gone through college finals with you, who had spent three summers making your hangout spot into a home, turning the small old shack into a proper place for you to build a new life together. He was your first kiss, your first valentine, your first time. He was the man at the end of the aisle, the man who would walk with you until the last of your days.

But one day he started running and you still walked.

Or maybe you were both running in different directions, no longer on the path to the same destination, your priorities somehow switched.

Of course, it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either.

You had both participated in this small unraveling, and you had both expressed the intention of changing, of finding compromise, an in-between, without either of you actually making the effort of fixing your trajectory, small habits and old pet peeves pulling you even farther apart.

The attempts — multiple ones — were painstakingly embarrassing. There were tears on both sides as you wondered what had caused this sudden rift that separated you — except it wasn't sudden, only your realisation was; the crevasse had been there for way longer. Maybe it had started as a small chipping the very day you met him, and it wasn't until now that you realised how the small sign had turned into an ominous presence, and then into unfathomable, inevitable doom.

And then the divorce.

It had been disgustingly easy, both parties agreeing on the procedures.

You didn't want the house. And you didn't need it. He didn't either.

Selling it had been exceedingly painless, you had shared the money, since he wanted to offer you stability. He already knew you would both suffer and he didn't want you worrying about rent. He was still your friend, after all.

Going back to being alone scared you at the beginning, until you realised that few things were truly bothering you. At least there wasn't this ghost of a human making you doubt all of your plans. You could plan dinner five days ahead or improvise. You could go to the restaurant as a last minute deal. You could go on long walks without the 'I'm sorry baby, emergency' making you rush back to town.

It felt like a bit of a liberation.

And your family's bookshop was doing well enough, since it was situated near the college and it also offered printing service.

Of course there were bad days. Sometimes you woke up searching for a body beside yours, however that feeling had significantly subdued after you had gotten used to the new bed. You missed human contact, being close, intimate with someone, having someone who knows you that deeply.

And then the true nightmare.

Finding someone new.

You were genuinely uninterested in dating. You had given it a go and it had sufficed.

It wasn't your world.

How could it possibly be?

You had never dated. You had basically offered your heart to the person that has always owned it. It's not like you had any experience in that labyrinth that is dating. All those unspoken social norms and the pining and tension. You only knew the comfort of a warm hug, the beauty of a kiss sparking from innocence and affection and slowly turning into steady, warm passion. You didn't like infernos, you liked candles. You liked the domestic hearth. You liked moderation.

And dating was all about extremes, from strangers to 'I'm inspecting your throat' on date one. And then suddenly it's date three and the same guy who brought you to a pizza place and a diner is suddenly going out of his way to bring you to a pretentious, expensive restaurant as a way to propitiate the possibility of you dropping your panties.

You had allowed this foolery only three times. Apparently all the suitable suitors were either really prone to pushing the pedal or had a passion for tongue gastroscopies.

The first one, Albert, had been quite the gentleman on date one. On date two he started making inappropriate jokes with a heavy body shaming undertone — a bit cliché for the stereotypical gym rat. And on date three he had dropped all pretenses at politeness and had outright palmed your ass in public, which made you rightfully uncomfortable. As you pointed that out, he proceeded saying that after all it was your third date and it was time to loosen up a little.

You didn’t even bother staying for dinner, left a bill on the table and left.

No matter the first disappointment, you decided not to let that disrespectful fool slow you down. And since your best friend knew everything about rat headed number one, you allowed her to set you up with one of her colleagues after she reassured you he was nothing like the one before.

Except somehow he was. The first date was at the local pub, and you somehow found yourself getting along well, his jokes were funny and he had good timing, he was relaxed, confident but still a bit clumsy and shy. He could be a good candidate.

But that was before he pushed his tongue to your tonsils as he kissed goodbye.

You gagged.

On date two he admitted you weren’t exactly his type. You were glad to reciprocate the statement after he told you his dream was having four children and a farm, alluding to the fact that his bride needed to be the perfect housewife.

You were pretty adamant that was not the kind of future you wanted for yourself.

Candidate number three was a guy you had met while grocery shopping, and somehow he had impressed you in an absolutely positive way on date one and two. Everything had been perfect, he was kind, considerate and well-mannered. Date three had been innocent, simple, down-to-earth. And then date four. Perfect dinner at his place. He had made you swoon and he had a very pretty cat he was very affectionate with.

He was the first man you had felt desire for in a very long time — almost eight months after your divorce.

The sex had been decent for being a first time.

And then he had entirely disappeared and never texted or called you back, which didn’t sit entirely wrong with you. You wished him all the best but you were actually glad. You liked being you and doing your own thing: having someone too much down your neck, getting in a relationship, having to check in with another person again felt more like a burden than a win.

Maybe it was just a coping mechanism to avoid facing the fact that he had been someone you could have liked, someone you could have built something with.

You were a happy woman, and it’s not like you really felt lacking or incomplete, like some of your single friends felt. And you had no intention of starting a family anytime soon, no matter if your old high school classmates had begun popping out kids left and right. You were more than happy to live the teen and early-twenty years you had spent in a relationship.

You were getting to know yourself in a way most of your friends didn’t have time to — you could already see them going through a midlife crisis after their kids became old enough to navigate life by themselves, which meant no more need for overprotective, and sometimes borderline suffocating, mothers, who suddenly found themselves with too much free time and too little tasks to complete.

Knowing your needs made you a stronger, better woman, and solitude had gifted you a level of introspection and balance that you doubted they could ever reach; maybe that was an arrogant consideration, but you knew there was no way knowing and loving yourself would ever bring you to crying over disrespectful, ungrateful youth whose only fault was that of growing up out of their mothers’ plans.

Unfortunately, there was no way your family — especially your grandmother — could ever tolerate the idea of you not needing a man and a family to be happy.

“Oh, come on, isn’t it time for you to bring a nice fellow back home?”

You shook your head as you and your grandma took a walk along the river, the sunny March afternoon feeling way too nice to stay at home. “Granny. There’s no people like Grandad anymore.”

“Oh, darling. You’re starting with the wrong role model. Not even back in my days we had men like him. He was the exception.” She nodded to herself with a sweet smile, remembering the husband she had lost a few years back.

“It’s so frustrating. And after all that happened… You know how it was. We were together for years. He was the only one I had. I don’t even know how to do these things. And books cannot teach you stuff like that. The more you read, the more you realise that most of these men had never even seen a rom com.”

“Oh, come on, but you have the internet these days! Can’t you find him in there? You have all these phones and computers and everyone has them, there must be a good one in the internet.”

She always said that “in the internet”. Like it was a physical place.

“I don’t even want to look in there, Granny. There are so many dangers in there.” You shuddered as you thought at the funny instagram pages where the people posted screenshots of the worst descriptions. All the embarrassing playboys and the fishermen and the lame wanna-be poets.

“Right… How can you know he is really is a person?” She considered, patting your back proudly. “You’re pretty. And you’ve always had the most perfect bum of all your cousins. Just like mine!” She grinned cockily, giving a playful smack to your ass, making you laugh loudly.

“It won’t last long.” You said, looking down. Solitude scared you sometimes. Being old and alone could be hard on the spirit and you had a feeling that old hag you would curse your dumb arrogance and inconsideration. However, for now you were still somehow making it through. Your divorce was finalised almost ten months ago. You could still consider yourself just fresh out of it.

“You’re smart. And I’m sure you have a lot to offer. You’re a good woman, and you’re far from being too old. There’s never a thing such as too old. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Look at me.” She said. “I’m still living a good life. Herbert has left me but I’m still here. Walking. Cooking. Drizzle keeps me good company.” She smiled sweetly at the mention of her dog, a lovely large poodle elegantly strolling at her side, its light grey fur finely trimmed by your grandmother’s expert hands. She had been a hairdresser for decades: learning how to keep Drizzle’s coat had been a cup of tea for her and he’d kept her distracted from grief after your grandpa passed away.

Her face formed a meditative pout. “Maybe you should just get a dog. Or even better, a cat. You’ve always looked like a cat child to me. So quiet and focused, like you knew some secret that nature would speak to you alone. You were always so attentive as a child!”

You smiled and looked at the path under your feet. Drizzle stayed unbothered as a loud, angry dachshund walked towards him, barking annoyingly. You had never felt sympathy for that small evil breed.

“I think I could get a kitten one of these days. Or a cat, from the shelter.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it in the internet!”

“So we’re really doing the party thing?”

“Listen, baby. It’s gonna be your first party as a free woman. Real mind blowing birthday sex.”

“I’m not a virgin, you know?” You stared at your face in the mirror, spreading some moisturiser over your forehead, inspecting the small lines there. You shrugged and let them be.

Maybe you would spend your best years single and find a sugar baby in ten or twenty years. Wait, weren’t those called toy boys?

Who cares.

Maybe it was time to get the post-grad you had always dreamed of. You would need to check your bank account before making that decision — maybe finally telling yourself yes could be the real birthday gift. That is, beside the huge dildo waiting in your drawer. Not being attracted to men or women didn’t mean you didn’t like sex.

You just found it difficult to imagine being with someone.

“Darling I’d bet an arm and a leg he never gave it to your right. You just need a bit more experience.”

All you needed was a hot bath, some candles and a good book. No man, no one night stand, no birthday sex could possibly make you as happy as decent jazz, wine and a novel.

“Why aren’t we doing that wine tasting at the winery out of town?”

“Because I want you choking on cheap alcohol, having all the fun you didn’t have on your twenty-first birthday because you were planning your own wedding. And I bet you’re the only one who wasn’t fucked in the bathroom of the Wickhead.”

Terry could be incredibly crude, but you loved her nonetheless. You loved her even more for it. She had never hidden anything from you, she had told you even the most embarrassing details of her own life. And she had always been the kindest, most faithful friend: she had driven you way out of town when you were eighteen and your period was late and you needed to buy a pregnancy test without all everyone and their dog knowing; she had chosen your wedding dress for you, spotting it and telling you it was going to be the one before you could even see it. When your marriage had started crumbling, she had spent countless nights with you, keeping you company when your husband was busy with his business trips. Though Terry had insinuated cheating, you knew he would never break your trust like that, and she had decided to trust your better judgement.

You had simply fallen out of love with each other.

And when you had moved into your new apartment, Terry had helped you repaint the walls and build the extra bookcases and install the shelves and fill your wine stand. Before leaving she had grabbed an unfamiliar box from her car, placing it on top of your bed, opening it and spreading out a set of “single necessaire”, as she called it. A couple toys, lube, condoms. To celebrate your re-found sexual promiscuity, she had said, though you objected, it was hard rediscovering something you had never had.

She had shaken her head and left you to “familiarise” yourself with everything.

“You know I’m not exactly a party person, Terry. This will end badly.” You said, sitting on your bed with your back against the headboard, your legs stretched out before you.

“You can allow yourself some fun once in a decade, you know?” You could hear her scoff on the phone.

“But I do have fun. Book. Wine. Bingo!” You explained, rolling your eyes as the booed.

“Come on, do it for me. Do it for your single friend who wants to get drunk and possibly sixty-nine? Please?” The other thing wrong with Terry is that if you ever met her in person, you would face the sweetest five foot three and a half — she insisted on the half — human being you could ever meet, with pretty wavy blonde hair and wide, sweet green eyes, the most boopable button nose and a sprinkle of freckles on her golden skin. She literally glowed in sunlight and her flowy gowns always made her look like a goddess: you could see men fighting for her, dying for her and going to war for just one of her gentle smiles.

“Don’t you have a FWB for that sixty-nine thingie?” You asked with an exceedingly inquisitive tone. It had been a while since she last updated you.

“Dumped him.” She replied curtly.

You tutted before exhaling. Emotionally constipated people — what’s wrong with them?

“He’s dating someone since he was ready for a relationship.” Terry sounded a bit colder than usual.

“And you weren’t?” You asked. You felt your tone hesitate with slight concern. You knew she would just put up a wall and ignore your question.

Fortunately, she didn’t. “I’m not ready to talk about that. It’s complicated, Frog.”

She was hurt and wanted a distraction.

“Okay, Terry. We’re going to get rip roaring drunk this Saturday.”

The line went silent.

“You know I love you right?”

“I love you too, sweetie. Now go to sleep, you have an early shift tomorrow.”

The line went silent after you bid each other goodnight, your body settling underneath the sheets once you realised your eyes were fluttering shut as you tried to read a few pages to put yourself to sleep.

Placing down the book, you hugged the extra pillow, settling your face in the corner between your sleeping pillow and your spare one, the heavy woolen comforter acting like a weighted blanket. You placed another pillow behind your back, making a soft cocoon all around you.

Yes, sometimes you still missed being hugged to sleep.

The taglist is open!

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fanfiction #thetruthuntoldnet #thebtswritersclub #Taehyung strangers to lovers

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

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Kait’s Emotional Crisis and Analysis on Saeran’s After Ending

That’s right. it’s here folks! You’re here because we’ve managed to survive the waiting period that has been two-years in the making. Are we all happy that we have made it this far and survived the wait? Yes, yes, we are. You wouldn’t still be listening to me babble about how much I love Saeran Choi if you weren’t. We all know what we’re here for, so let’s get down to business.

THIS IS A VERY LONG POST. I’m not even joking this time. It’s a very long post.

Spoilers for Ray Route and Another Story!

I’ve been having to control the flappy hands when I see this photo so forgive me if my thoughts are all over the place as I talk about everything that has been on my mind. I literally had to pinch myself when I woke up to a flood of messages on the matter.

It’s him. It’s my boy. It’s my boy. It’s my boy! Mom, holy fuck! It’s my boy and he looks great. I’ve had a lot on my mind since I first saw the title screen so let’s get down to what I have to say about that. First of all, I’m in love with MC’s outfit. I’d wear that, that’s the fucking mood tonight. I’ve been frothing at the bit to be able to draw my MC wearing this outfit and I didn’t even wanna start doing something like that until they gave the official release to us.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for really frilly tops. Those pink jeans are a really nice shade of pink too. It’s not hot pink, it’s a nice bubblegum which is a good contrast to Saeran’s hair, haha! I just like seeing all the pinks around this boy and his MC, of course, has to be cloaked in those colors as well. It just makes me really happy. I love some of the other outfits that MC gets to wear in the game but oh, God, oh, Fuck. This has to be my favorite outfit that we’ve been able to wear thus far.

The little necktie? Perfect. Those sleeves? Iconic. The hand-holding? PURE AS FUCK. THE VIBES? CHECKED.

Now that I’ve covered my bases with MC, let’s go onto the Choi brothers and talk about them. I actually like that they’ve been drawing Saeran in more brown and pink outfits. It just feels very right for him.

It goes to show that his mental state is much better than it was in recent years, like, from Ray to Suit Saeran and to Unknown, we all know that they would dress in black and darker themes if they were given the chance. Ray’s outfit was given to him by Rika to wear, and Suit Saeran was the one that picked his suit out to wear. Unknown walked out of the clearance bin at Hot Topic and added those cowboy boots to enrage me. But, I digress. I’ll fight Unknown at a later date about that.

The natural and earthy tones that they’re going for here with him are very nice to see. He seems like he’s a lot comfier with himself here. He’s got a cozy little old sweater on and his posture is better than I’ve seen it in many photos. If his style is just cozy sweaters, then, well, I can vibe with that. I can see him working in the garden wearing that and I think that’s the point that they’re making with this style of his.

The loose collar is also nice. I’m used to seeing his clothes buttoned up and out of the way, making sure that he isn’t showing his body. So, seeing him play with his style and wearing something much looser against his body is a good thing as well. I think I saw someone call him a comfy grandpa in one of the posts that I’ve seen floating around. I chuckle at that mention.

Saeran doesn’t care that much about fashion, to be honest with you. He would, of course, choose something that’s minimalist and comfortable. These browns work with him very much so. I’m happy to see it! It’s in line with the style that I’ve had in mind for him after the Ending!

Can you see the way that he’s gazing at the player, though? Can we talk about the way that he’s looking at us?

The longing in that gaze... the way that it looks like he’s been getting some good sleep for once in his life because the discoloration of purple is gone! The way he has that tiny smile that only we know is a smile because he only shares that side of himself with us? His MC? God, I’m in love with you, you fucking bastard man why is your smile making me cry so much?

I could talk about his smile for hours. His expression. The longing. The way that I love you cannot be contained in words, Saeran. It’s far too strong. Just know I’m the person that can feel what’s going on his body from looking at him. He looks to be in a good place.

Anyways, onto Saeyoung.

Oh, my darling, Saeyoung. I’m used to seeing you in green palettes. It’s just a tried and true theory with your red hair and you lean heavily into being a walking Christmas palette. It’s rare to see you without your glasses, and I’m sure that a lot of people are swooning over you for that. You know you’re handsome and you will use that against those MCs that love you. I don’t have a lot to say about his outfit but I do think it’s really fitting for him.

It seems like a muted pull-over and some worn jeans, which seems in line with everything that I would style him in. He knows plenty about style himself and he knows how to make my head spin.

What is this somber look in his eyes? There’s a smile on his lips but there is this feeling to me that it doesn’t meet his eyes. Is he happy that we’re with Saeran or is he weighed by the fact that he wasn’t the one to save Saeran? Does he know what happens with Rika? Does he feel angry over that? What are we going to tell the RFA and him about this? I know that he would be happy that we saved his brother...

But the guilt in his heart is nothing to scoff off. He always blames himself for what happened to Saeran even though Rika is the one that broke his trust for good and forever. I feel like there’s something bittersweet in his eyes. Does he think that Saeran and the player are going to live happily while he’s not there?

I always intended to imagine Saeyoung living with Saeran and the player, because they can’t be separated again.

But does he feel like a weight and a third wheel? I don’t know. I’m scared to think about how he may feel like Saeran is happy now without him and he’ll try to pull away instead of adding anymore trauma onto Saeran’s life. I know that it’s not going to easy for recovery for either of them, but I want to have faith and care for the two of them.

Saeyoung, you better not self-deprecate. I’ll smooch your forehead too. I just really don’t know how I feel about that look in his eyes. It’s just matching the smile in my opinion.

I’m still screaming. I’ve been a pit of screaming for nearly three hours now and I know that I’ve still got plenty more to say today on the matter. But, I know why you’re here for real, you want me to analyze what I see in this picture and what I think will be in the AE from what we’re shown. I’ve had a few days to think it over and I’ve got my ideas.

Where are you Saeyoung? This title screen is not confirmation that Saeyoung is alive. For all we know, this photo could be more inspiration for the theme and the emotion that takes place in the After Ending.

I have to remind people that when we first played Saeyoung’s AE, it was a rouse and we were treated to a happy dream sequence that sought to talk about Saeran living with us and Saeyoung as he made a toy store. There’s a possibility that in the midst of the search for Saeyoung, we’re confronted with dreams and nightmares on Saeran’s end in regards to his brother.

It’s my biggest fear that Saeyoung isn’t alive. We don’t know if the Prime Minister took him or if an enemy took him, or if it was the agency, or a combination of all three of these options. I don’t know how I feel about it. I’ve considered that we won’t have the answer until the After Ending itself comes out but I’m interested to know what the answer is.

If it was Saejoong, well, I fear for Saeyoung’s health if we do find him alive. His emotional state... God, that was always his biggest fear. His and Saeran’s biggest fear that their mother always whispered. She was a monster to the two of them with her abuse but the unknown of what their father would do to them had to be even more frightening. Their mother always said that Saejoong would kill them if he caught them.

But, he could have honestly done a lot of horrible and twisted things. They could have become political pawns and a sob story that Saejoong could have sold if he wanted quite easily, and their mother could have been killed to silence that story. There was a lot of worse case scenarios. Saeyoung knows and has thought of all of them.

So the idea that he’s living his worst nightmare?

The fact that Saejoong could have killed Saeran without him being able to protect him?

The fact that he’d not be able to talk to V?

He sent a frenzied message to the chatroom for us to contact V for him. This only implies that he was trying to warn V to protect Saeran at the last minute, so it feels like it could only be Saejoong that took him. He panicked hard. He had to make sure that Saeran was protected even if he died. I think that was what he did with his message in the chatroom.

But, we all know how it turned out.

I felt like that sacrifice of panic on his part was.... it still hurts me to think about all of it.

My worst case scenario is a dream sequence and Saeyoung not... not being alive anymore. I don’t know what that would do to Saeran. He wants to make things right with his brother, he really does. The gaslighting and manipulation done by Rika is going to take some time for them to work past, and I know that he can make progress in therapy and as he challenge his intrusive thoughts as we stand by his side. He can see it through.

He is hopeful for his brother.

However, it’s going to be tested when he actually faces his brother in the game and that’s the real test. Therapy is one thing. Facing your fears is even harder than talking about them. Saeran is going to... be overwhelmed with everything and he may need to step away when push comes to shove.

I want Saeyoung to see us together holding hands and let him have that moment realization that even though Saeran went through a lot of harm while they were separated, he wasn’t alone through all of it. He never wanted Saeran to be alone in any way. If Saeran has to step away, then well, that would leave us with his brother in the process.

I can’t say how much I’d choke up if he thanked us for loving his brother. The guilt in his eyes as he cries and we reassure him. I think that’s one thing that I want the most with Saeyoung. I want him to know freedom from his chains and I want to help him too. There’s a lot that I want out of that and there’s so much of this potential that we can talk about in the AE.

There’s a lot with Saeyoung that I want to think about but so much of it makes me wanna cry.

I also fear for V and I’ve discussed many of my fears on that matter. I’ll repost my thoughts right here.

Now, in regards to what I sincerely don’t want is a repeat of what went down with V’s After Ending.

I’ve shared my feelings on that matter before and I understand that Cheritz was going for that moral high-road that many people take where they say that it’s better to forgive on your path to healing, and while that can be good for some people, it can leave a sour taste in the mouth of people who don’t pick to forgive the people that hurt them.

I don’t choose to forgive the people that hurt me in many cases. That doesn’t make me a bad person. The problem with the Forgive/Judgement ending is that it can make you feel ashamed for not forgiving someone who quite literally, took funds from the RFA’s first two parties (that’s the only way she could’ve gotten the money to fund Mint Eye, even coercion and manipulation of people on the level that Rika does wouldn’t give her that much ability), manipulated and gas-lit Ray and Saeran for years, deceived and drugged countless people, so on and so forth.

I hate that she’s never punished for her actions. She needs to be rightfully punished for what she did. I want her to get therapy, and I want her to learn that she was wrong for what she did to everyone. I want her to be able to get better for her own health, and I don’t think she should ever be contact with anyone in the RFA ever again. But, that’s up to the RFA if they choose to speak with her or interact with her, not mine. I don’t want her to die, I want her to learn what she did was wrong.

It’s not Mika (Rika Behind Story Spoilers) who went through the cult. Rika had every chance to stop while she was ahead but she kept doing it. I would not forgive Rika, and I would never want to be around her ever again if I were in the position of the RFA when the truth is made known.

The only action that Rika ever took that could be looked at with the filter of self-defense was when she panicked when the boy’s mother tried to get close to her and harm her in a drunken rage. She acted to protect herself in that situation, but that’s the only thing that she’s ever done that someone could look at and say, she was protecting herself. She felt threatened. She panicked, she blacked out and protected herself from harm.

Don’t get me started on V. I love V, he’s not perfect, he fucked up a lot and he shouldn’t have gone back to Rika. It feels like he saw us love, forgive, and stand by Saeran and thought that he could be able to do the same for Rika, but that is not what will help him or Rika. They don’t need to be together again. They need to be fair away. Rika and V literally burned down the boy’s childhood home and V was wearing his sunglasses, so I can only presume that Rika harmed his eyes after he went to her.

Saeran himself says that he wants to tell everyone about Rika and V, but he needs to be able to discuss it with V. Even Saeran understands that V is a victim to some degree and he wants to help him.

That was a big fucking comment on his part and I was proud of him for that.

But, V left for Rika and we don’t know if we’ll ever see him again. So, I really don’t know how that’s going to be handled in the slightest, Anon.

I don’t want Rika and V together, like, ever again.

I want Rika to be punished for her actions and caught. I want V to get away from her and start to learn to love himself again and grow. I believe in him but he’s in need of someone to cheer him on when that abusive relationship ends. I really don’t want a repeat of V’s After Ending.

Don’t make me forgive Rika.

Don’t make Saeran forgive her, either.

That’s my worst case scenario fear. I want Saeran to be able to grow and get healthier, for sure, but his final confrontation with Rika should be the last time that he ever thinks about her. He made his mind up and he made it clear that she was wrong and he would never be tricked by her again.

I want him to stand his ground on that. I’ll stand by him no matter what he chooses to do, though. So, I want this to be about Saeran and Saeyoung coming together again, and helping V get out of that relationship with Rika, as well as Rika facing punishment for her actions.

But, that might be asking a bit too much, haha.

Ideally, I want Saeran and the player to be able to reach out to V and help him get away from Rika as she’s taken down as well. We don’t know if she left Mint Eye for sure, we don’t know if she and V ran away. Who is running the Cult? Is the cult put to a stop or did Rika put somebody else in charge? It’s hard to say on that front and I’m still not sure how that’s going to end up.

V can open up and work out everything that’s going to fall out here as it did in the events of V Route with Rika. He’ll need to work out everything with Jumin and the others, but I have hope for him to be able to face what went wrong and not only get the help he needs, but get the support of his support circle behind his back as everyone rallies behind him.

I would love he and Saeran to be able to work out everything, Saeyoung as well, because even Saeran is willing to work with Jihyun. Rika to get some therapy, get punished for her actions and that to be dealt with is great. It never happens so. That would be a nice change.

Saeran knows that V is a victim in all of this too. So, it remains to be seen how this is going to be handled. I can only pray that Jihyun is able to be rescued as we rescue Saeyoung (hopefully, fingers crossed.) I’m still so proud of Saeran for doing that.

God.

I’ve talked about Choice and Saeran before in regards to the Secret Ending and his Good ending and... well, I’ll direct you to that post. To read about how important it was for Saeran to be able to choose what he wanted to do with his life instead of having options forced on him.

Can we discuss this photo as well from the Special Believer Box that I’m nearly about to buy at this point with whatever comes out with AE cause I need it?? I’m gonna go fucking broke. For you. Saeran. For you. I was saving my money for Christmas and now I’ve got a reason to live.

I still don’t know if this is the implication of what will happen in the AE or if it’s something that will just exist as a standalone image. I still don’t know why Saeran would be dresses as his brother for some reason, unless there’s a twin switch-a-roo plot somewhere in all of this? I mean, bold choice, but I don’t know. I just think I needed to say again how cute that I think Saeran is in Saeyoung’s outfit. He’s so tiny and slender in comparison to his brother.

I’m gonna fucking smooch his forehead. I don’t know, I want the CG title screen and this photo here to imply that the Choi boys will be alive and happy together once all is said and done. I can’t say that I know where we’re heading but there is bound to be an adventure to hunt down Saeyoung, but I’m not sure where it will take us.

A wild-goose chase alongside whatever mystery is left. I can’t wait.

My ideal ending is one where we get to live in a little house by the sea with a garden with Saeran and Saeyoung where we can visit and chat with the RFA whenever we want. But, we’ll have to see what happens. If you want to read more about some of the things that I think he wants to do with his MC now that he’s free check out this post.

Anyways.

Kait’s gotta go cry now.

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crystalirises · 4 years ago

Note

in regards to ur recent post—i have been waiting so so long for someone to mention that song in relation to Fundy and i wanna hear u elaborate on how well it fits cuz ur thoughts are interesting 👀👀

Hello anon! And yeah I tried to explain why the song fits although I might not get some points across since I'm not ver articulate with my thoughts. I also apologize for responding so late since I actually posted my post at like... Past midnight so I wasn't able to respond immediately. But anyway, here's the sort of lyric analysis (??? Is this right lol) of why Not Your Seed is a Fundy song. And I mean Character Fundy not the actual person. So the Fundy mentioned here is the character.

This is long because it's me lol.

TW: brief mention of drugs, brief mention of sex (cause it's literally part of a song lyric and quite honestly I don't even want to talk about that kinda stuff), a lot of parental neglect, insane!Wilbur Soot, and possible cheating (cause Fundywastaken is mentioned). Stay safe everyone and please read the trigger warnings.

I'm not your girl anymore

I'm not that tween that you drove here for

I'm not your girl anymore

I overtook her body with an infectious spore

Okay, first of the first part of the song doesn't make sense out of the context of the musical (obviously). However if we kinda try to look at this in a "metaphorical" sense, it just gives off the message of Fundy not being the person who he used to be. If we were to say that Fundy was a kid during the first war, it's like a way to saying that he's no longer than innocent kid that he used to be. And for the "infectious spore" thing, if taken metaphorically, could mean the bitterness and anger that Fundy feels against the rest of the server (or at least against Wilbur) for the way they've treated him. Those bitter feelings have led him to just doing things that he would have never done (such as the 'blowing up L'Manburg's supply thing before the Doomsday War').

Also AU where Fundy gets infected the red egg and Wilbur gets ressurected I guess.

You left me out of your sight for one second

And look what happens, nightmare time

It's worse than you could imagine

Not sex and not drugs

Just alien invading minds

Okay for the first two lyrics, we all know very well that Wilbur did not look away for a second (he looked away for an entire damn arc is what he did lol). So essentially, from that first line it just implies that Wilbur (and I say Wilbur mostly cause 'Not Your Seed' is literally a daughter singing this to her father song) looked away from Fundy. Except, Wilbur looked away or ignored Fundy for a very long time, enough so that the last time Fundy saw Wilbur alive was Wilbur pretty much calling him a traitor and then promptly ignoring until he can back as Ghostbur. Which then leads to the second line since that neglect left some impressions on Fundy even after Wilbur was gone.

For the next three lines, combining the first two lines together, the usual fears that a parent would have regarding their children are well... Them engaging in sex and drugs (well the drugs is debatable cause Wilbur literally made a drug van so). However, Wilbur's issues regarding were never those matters but instead he had to deal with the aftermath of his emotional neglect that Fundy gained from Wilbur's parenting. As for the last line "Just alien invading minds," again does not make sense out of the context of the musical. However, metaphorically it could be seen as like... "alien" as in "different/outside emotions" that Fundy had never felt before (am I reaching XD). Essentially, negative emotions that Fundy had never felt before (or at least witheld for a very long time) have pretty much engulfed Fundy's mind and kinda led him down a terrible path.

No more family vacays together

'Cause your only daughter's under the weather

And if you actually paid attention to me

Okay, I have to admit that the first two lines are kinda out of the Fundy interpretation thing and I guess if someone wanted to, just alternate the family vacays to family hangouts since... They never took vacays lol. As for the second line, one could interpret it as just well Fundy drifting away from Wilbur... Essentially, he's sick of Wilbur. (This is reaching and I know that XD).

But it's the third line here that's definitely a Fundy line. "And if you actually paid attention to me," is a line that I believe embodies Fundy to an extent. Yes, Wilbur was there for Fundy and one could argue that whe was a doting father but that does not necessarily mean he was a good one. Wilbur was there for Fundy but he never paid attention to him, if anything, he babied Fundy. During the war? Babied him. During the time L'Manburg gained independence? Babied him. During the election arc? Babied him. Wilbur was there but he never listened to Fundy, he never saw Fundy as anything more than a child. There are many ways that a parent could be neglectful towards their children and I believe that though Wilbur was very doting he was not very attentive towards what Fundy had to say (and this is only hitting the beginning, I haven't even gotten to the "I despise you" part of the Pogtopia Arc.)

You'd see, I'm not your seed

I'm not your angsty teen

No matter what you believe

The apple's fallen far from the tree

Alright so for the first two lines, these could easily be equated to the fact that Wilbur, again, babies Fundy. What especially strikes me is the fact that Wilbur refers to Fundy's creation of Coconut 2020 and his sudden change of clothes to Fundy being in his teenage rebellious phase. Wilbur thinks that Fundy is just being rebellious and it's really just Fundy trying to separate himself from just being Wilbur's son and finding a way to make his dad proud via his own accomplishments, essentially finding something to get Wilbur's acknowledgement or approval while also doing something for himself. This line is like Fundy refuting the idea that everything he's done is just him going through an angsty teenage rebellious phase when he wasn't going through one in the first place.

For the third and fourth lines, I honestly think this represents Fundy's way of trying to separate himself as being known as Wilbur's son. He doesn't want to just be acknowledged as that, he wants to be more than his father's son. He wants to be his own person. In all honesty, I'd like to think that this is Fundy actually saying this to himself. He truly wants to believe that he's being independent but at the same time he's still looking for Wilbur's approval. No matter how much he wants to be his own man, he still looks to Wilbur because at the end of the day he wants to prove himself to Wilbur while also wanting to be independent. It's odd but it's kind of understandable. It's difficult to try and step out of somebody's shadow without turning around to see if they actually notice what you're doing. Fundy is like that. At least he was, and probably still is (with Phil before the whole breakdown arc).

It's not my fault anymore

No more curfews to be late for

It's not my fault anymore

No more being worried and waiting by the door

Again, these four lines are essentially just normal parent-child stuff. Children usually have curfews on when they should be home and parents tend to wait by the doors everytime their kid is a little bit late to arriving home. The thing about this kind of thing tho, if it was something that happened during the L'Manburg war, Fundy would have definitely felt constricted within the walls of L'Manburg. It wouldn't have been easy to just leave the safety of L'Manburg since the enemy could literally be waiting outside to ambush anyone they could. So, if character Fundy were the type of person to occasionally leave L'Manburg (and I believe he would be), he'd definitely feel guilty at times since it would have been very stressful for Wilbur. It's the middle of a war, Wilbur's a general and a father (tho he definitely he focused on one more than the other) and the least Fundy should be doing is to just stay within the walls. So, in a scenario where Fundy occasionally leaves L'Manburg, he would definitely feel guilty and blame himself for adding any unnecessary stress to Wilbur...

Again tho, this is an imagined scenario since this never really occured within the actual storyline... But then again Wilbur did claim the walls as "The wall I built to keep him (Fundy) safe." So it probably did happen and Fundy would have probably felt guilty for just leaving every now and then. Although Wilbur would have a point (it's literally the middle of a war), Fundy would have wanted to see the outside world and not have been forced to stay within the confines of L'Manburg (Fundy would have some slight fault here, that should be noted.)

Like I said, this is more of an imagined scenario that may or may not have occured.

Did you know that I wanted to live with you? (Look what happens, nightmare time)

O-ooh

And when you needed to fight, you gave her that too (aliens invading minds)

Ah-ooh

Alright so the first line really hits me since "live" could almost sound like "leave" (I know they're pronounced different don't @ me). For this piece of line, it sounds like a confrontation between Fundy and insane!Wilbur (Wilbur in Pogtopia Arc). At the very beginning of Schlatt's Administration, Fundy had always made it clear to at least himself (and Eret) that he was a spy on the inside. Fundy - at the beginning - didn't support Schlatt's administration at all. So if one were to think of the line with the word "leave" instead of "live," it gives off the context that Fundy wanted to go with Wilbur and Tommy when they were exiled... But he didn't because he wanted to be a spy for them. Technically, you don't have to change "live" with "leave" cause it essentially means the same thing, it just feels more painful this way cause it implies that Fundy forced himself to stay even if he didn't want to. Tis sad times for Fundy's hidden spy arc.

As for the third line, in the context of the musical this is referring to Bill (the father) essentially giving up custody of his daughter Alice to her mother. Of course in Fundy's case that doesn't work. But if this line were to be though of in a metaphorical way, it could come out as something else. "And when you needed to fight, you gave her that too." Think of it as Wilbur choosing L'Manburg over Fundy. Wilbur never "fought" for Fundy. Pet war? Nope. Tommy publicly disowning him? Nope. People calling Fundy a furry despite him being an anthromorphic fox (and as far as I'm aware, this is canon)? Nope. Schlatt hitting Fundy with a bottle during the November 16th war? Nope. Wilbur never cared enough to defend his son, but he was always ready to fight for L'Manburg.

Did you know mom let Deb sleep over?

And you're right about Deb - she's a hardcore stoner

And if you wonder what led your daughter astray

Well, daddy wasn't here to stay

... listen *gets bonked* Okay, serious interpretation first before I make the crack joke. This line really doesn't work cause this is essentially Alice (the daughter) talking about Deb (her girlfriend) who Bill (the father) does not really like. If anything, I'd like to say that... Change these lines to Fundy admitting that Schlatt is actually doing a great job as president? (Let's all be honest, Fundy at one point did express that he thought Schlatt was a good president). So yeah just Fundy admitting that Schlatt is a good president even though he is an alcoholic.

("Did you know Schlatt let Dre sleep over?

And you were right about Dre - he's a hardcore liar.")

For the last two lines. I imagine this could be said to two versions of Wilbur. If we're talking about insane!Wilbur then this is just a confrontation of how Wilbur pretty much just left Fundy in a hostile country where he was forced to adapt unless he wanted to get executed like Tubbo or imprisoned like Niki. There's a reason why Schlatt asked Fundy about his parentage and his association with Wilbur. As such, Fundy had to learn how to be another person because Wilbur left.

Another way to interpret this is Fundy telling it to Ghostbur. The reason why Fundy is bitter and the way he is is because Wilbur left him... Both emotionally and physically, the man died and they were never able to resolve their issues before Wilbur died. Fundy is the way he is because Wilbur never stayed to resolve their issues. The line "Well, daddy wasn't here to stay" really hits how Fundy is influenced by what Wilbur did, and Fundy is still looking for that one person - the one person - who would stay for him. His dad didn't stay for him, his grandfather stay, Eret did not go to the adoption, and his best friend (Ranboo???) didn't stay... Everyone has left him and that hurts him since that is exactly what Wilbur did and it still continues to haunt him even after Wilbur is dead and gone.

Not your seed

I'm not your perfect teen

I'm fucking sevente-en

At least I was before you left me

With the first two lines, I suppose one could say that this is how Wilbur saw Fundy. "I'm not your perfect teen," is one way that Wilbur could've seen Fundy or at least how he forced himself to see Fundy as. Since the beginning of the L'Manburg War, he regarded Fundy as a child and during the Election Arc he regarded Fundy as a rebellious teenager... But with slight endearment. Like he's honestly amused by Fundy's sudden show of rebellion... It's only when Fundy sides with Quackity that Wilbur begins to realize that Fundy is serious about the whole separating-himself-from-Wilbur thing and even then continues to look at Fundy condescendingly, especially when Fundy ran for presidency. And, although this is my own interpretation, that part of the Election Arc where Fundy wanted to run for the presidency too and Wilbur just allowed it after a moment of awkward silence, feels like a parent who just decided to concede with their child's wishes cause it's amusing and "hey, what's the harm in letting the kid have what he wants?" But... Fundy is not the kid that Wilbur sees him as at all, but Wilbur can't get over that and it even translates over to the way Ghostbur looks and regards Fundy as.

As for the last two lines, there are two ways this could be interpreted as. In the first interpretation, don't look at the age but at the context. Fundy was a kid who was born and grew up in a war-torn country, Wilbur may have been there physically but he had long since emotionally left Fundy since Wilbur was busy with the war effort to really be there for Fundy. Fundy, like Tommy and Tubbo, was forced to grow up because it was a war and they had no choice but to grow if they wanted to survive. The second interpretation is... A bit sadder. I don't really know what Fundy's age is. Like... Is he older than Tommy or Tubbo but how was he born in L'Manburg then??? But confusion aside. If we were to assume that Fundy was 14 during the Election Arc (as Ghostbur said but he's unreliable) or at least Fundy was a teen at that point of time, Wilbur left his son in an enemy country (though of course not any initial fault of his own since he was exiled XD). Fundy - like in the first interpretation - was forced to grow up and adapt because Schlatt could have literally just killed him for being Wilbur's son.

Why does it hurt to love you?

Why am I in pain?

Why does it hurt to know you?

You'll let me down again

If I turned my insides out, would you even know that I was there?

Ah ;-; the lines that make me cry.

Alright so I can definitely say that all of these lines are just relatable to Fundy. "Why does it hurt to love you?" Fundy does probably care a whole lot about Wilbur but with this care and love comes the pain of how Wilbur emotionally neglected and disrespected him. Fundy loves Wilbur. He does. But it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. He still recognizes Wilbur as his father to some degree and does love the Wilbur that was his dad, but with everything that's happened, loving Wilbur has become too painful for him to bear. Everytime he tries, it just feels like a stab to the heart since he's reminded of how absent Wilbur truly was in his life.... Even if Ghostbur tried to be there for Fundy, it doesn't erase the pain that Wilbur inflicted when he was alive.

For the second line, "Why am I in pain?" Fundy's character is undeniably one of the most tragic characters (at least from my perspective). The guy has been through a lot and even if this line isn't supported by the first, it still indicates that Fundy has suffered a lot (and yes a lot of characters have suffered too and I am not invalidating any of the other characters). He's hurting. And to be honest, they're all hurting. Everyone has their own ways of coping, and Fundy is honestly quite lost in what he should be doing. He's still reeling from everything, enough so that he canonically took a break and left the DSMP altogether (yes it was canonised that his character had taken a break).

For the following lines, I'd like to think this is directed to Ghostbur. "Why does it hurt to know you?" It feels like Fundy meeting Wilbur - or at least a version of Wilbur - after everything that's happened. He knows the real Wilbur and although Ghostbur reminds him of the father that he used to have, he can't just forget what the real Wilbur did. It hurts to not be able to move on even though he has a second chance with Ghostbur. It hurts because everytime he sees Ghostbur he'll just be reminded that Ghostbur is nothing more than a remnant of a once broken man. He knows Wilbur, he knew the real Wilbur. And it hurts to not be able to move on from the real Wilbur. The reason why it feels like something Fundy would say to Ghostbur is furthe remphasized by the next line in the song.

"You'll let me down again." That is definitely something that Fundy would say or at least feel towards Ghostbur. He wants to get to know this new version of his father, he wants to... But he can't. Cause again there's still that underlying fear of Ghostbur just messing up again and further hurting Fundy. In a way, Ghostbur did in fact hurt Fundy and he did in fact let Fundy down again. The issue with Ghostbur is that he refused to acknowledged the problems that he inflicted to everyone around him. When Fundy confronted him, Ghostbur ignored it. He ran away. So yeah, Fundy couldn't let himself know Ghostbur because Ghostbur would have and did let him down again.

Finally, the last line, "If I turned my insides out, would you even know that I was there?" As we've already seen, Fundy has tried to gain Wilbur's attention and acknowledgement in the past. First, with the running for presidency and secondly, with the spying for Pogtopia thing. Fundy has gone - and would have possibly gone to even worse - to great lengths just to gain Wilbur's approval. This line just shows the desperation that Fundy had just so he could get his father's approval. He tried to be independent, but it didn't work. He tried to help his father against Schlatt, it didn't work. He went so far as to burn the flag down since he wanted to get into Schlatt's good graces so he could be a better spy. He went to great lengths for Wilbur's acknowledgement... But he never got it, at least, not in the way that he wanted to.

Why does it hurt to love you?

Why does it hurt to love?

For the first line, "Why does it hurt to love you?" it just really shows how painful it is for Fundy to try and love a father who was barely even there for him. He does love Wilbur - as I said before - but loving Wilbur comes with a lot of pain (as I'm sure even other characters affiliated with Wilbur can attest). Wilbur went crazy before he died and he wasn't the best father towards Fundy and though Fundy still holds on to some semblance of love for the man he once saw as his dad, he still feels hurt over everything that's happened. Wilbur is a sore and touchy subject for many people within the story, not even just Fundy. They all suffer at the thought of Wilbur... At least, Alivebur.

Ohhhh... Like...this is obvious. The second line is obvious for Fundy XD. Because: his father was barely there, his possible last words to Fundy were "I despise you," and then he died and came back as a ghost who straight up ignores all the problems that he caused when he was alive, his grandfather disowned him, his fiancé broke up and possibly cheated on him (if you consider fwt canon), his best friend called him a coward and left, his home got destroyed thrice, Eret never showed up for the adoption, and he went through a breakdown arc in which it was so bad that he left to take a break from everything that happened. Everything that he's ever loved just finds a way to hurt him.

I'm not your seed (not your girl, not your girl)

Now maybe you'll listen to me (listen to me, listen to me)

Or do you let me bleed? (let me bleed)

Now your daughter's not a girl no more (girl no more, girl no more)

Now that Fundy's gone through a possible recovery arc (since he canonically left the server for one year or was it fours years?), he's probably more well-adjusted to everything else. If Wilbur does indeed get ressurected at some point. This is a way of like showing how Wilbur and Fundy may interact. (Also, I know it could also sound like Villain Fundy but I honestly have moved on from that particular thing and just want Fundy to recover). "Now maybe you'll listen to me," is just Fundy trying to confront Wilbur after everything except this time Fundy has recovered enough to actually speak to Wilbur without getting mad or upset once Wilbur refuses to acknowledge anything's wrong. Still, this is just in the case where Wilbur is ressurected and Fundy is recovered enough to confront Wilbur for everything that's happened.

So for these last lines, I'll only focus on the third line which is "Or do you let me bleed?" If Fundy and ressurected!Wilbur do interact, there are two possible ways for that to go. Wilbur either acknowledges and apologizes for what he did wrong, Fundy apologizes for the things he also did (come on, burning the flag, tearing down the walls, and disowning Wilbur is very painful regardless of what Fundy was trying to accomplish), and they both learn to accept the past and move on so they can beat that stupid egg (red egg, my beloved) and maybe Dream. Or... Wilbur could just ignore Fundy all over again and refuse to acknowledge what he did wrong. Hopefully this time, Fundy would be recovered enough to just realize that Wilbur is never gonna change and that Fundy needs to move on from Wilbur. So, yes. In this possible scenario, Wilbur and Fundy could either make up ("Now maybe you'll listen to me") or Wilbur refuses to acknowledge anything that went wrong and Fundy moves on by himself ("Or do you let me bleed?") Again, this is just a possible scenario.

Not at all your seed!

Cause I'm not your girl anymore

Just, well, further emphasis that Fundy isn't the same person he used to be and he never will be again. Like everyone else, he's gone through a lot. He's different, he's changed.

----------------------------------------------------------

So yeah... I am so sorry to the anon if this is just so confusing or me rambling and I'm pretty sure you didn't ask for a damn essay. But ye... Have this... Sorry if it’s not the analysis you wanted tho ;-;

Apologies tho if this seems confusing and I would gladly clear things up if there's some points that are confusing.

So...ye... Have fun with this

(what do I tag this as, pls help—)

#fundy #fundywastaken #<--- briefly mentioned tho #pls read the trigger warnings

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iceeckos12 · 4 years ago

Text

tma fic recs

I’ve seen a couple of fic rec posts floating around. since ive been reading so many excellent fic recently, i thought that id make one as well! please note this list is going to be 99% jonmartin. also buckle up, because this is going to get long.

Completed

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

Notes: This is probably my go-to fic if i want an apocalypse never happened scenario. The jonmartin is wonderful, as is the h/c.

Diary and Prenon-nous la main by luftballoons99

Diary summary:

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Prenon-nous la main summary:

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

Notes: Do you love impeccable safehouse jonmartin characterization? do you love characters grappling with the mortifying ordeal of being known? do you love softness so tender that it makes you want to weep? please read these fic. im begging you.

i’ll tell you about all the times i’ve smiled because of you by cryptidkidprem

Summary:

Martin thinks about their shoes, sitting beside each other on the floor by the bed. Thinks of the way Jon wears Martin’s cardigans more often than he wears his own, the way Martin’s started keeping elastics around his wrist because Jon always forgets his own when they go out.

He thinks about all the gentle touches and fussing over each other they’ve done, and how much is still to come over the next… however long Jon will have him.

They have a long way to go, an entire life to build out of the wreckage Jonah Magnus and Peter Lukas left them, but laying together in a comfortable, sleepy quiet, Martin thinks they’ve got a good start going.

Or, Jon quits the Institute, saves the world, and it turns out to be exactly what he needs in order to heal and start moving forward towards building a life with Martin.

Notes: how many times have i reread this fic? more than i can count. jon quits the institute and it’s just full of soft jonmartins. they get married! god i love them.

go softly by doomcountry

Summary:

And there is nothing else besides this.

Notes: every time i remember this fic i reread it. please heed the tags because martin is blinding jon, but he’s like. blinding jon in the most heartbreaking way possible. idk how the author made this so tender but i know i was certainly crying so!

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

Summary:

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Notes: Do you like time travel fixits? i sure like time travel fixits. reverb is an excellent one. heavy on the h/c, I wanted to hug jon so so badly.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey

Summary:

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Notes: Yet another time travel fixit! also excellent. the teasing was HYSTERICAL. also Im just going to say this now - CirrusGrey in general writes incredible tma fic. You can’t really go wrong.

unassigned supplementals by bibliocratic

Notes: I won’t put in a summary just because it’s a long series of oneshots, but bibliocratic’s writing is amazing. Again, you can’t really go wrong with one of their fic!

let the soft animal of your body by autoclaves

Summary:

Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.

In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.

(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)

Notes: this fic really speaks to me a) because i project on martin like crazy and b) because food is also my love language. this fic is incredibly soft and it’s all about cooking!

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” by shinyopals

Summary:

I hope you find your new role as Head of the Institute as rewarding as captaining the Tundra, wrote Elias Bouchard, to Peter Lukas. There are so many people working there: all with their own interesting lives, and all desiring your attention and support. I'm sure you will relish the challenge it will bring and enjoy every moment spent with the fine men and women of the Institute. In time I'm confident they'll become like a family to you.

The Magnus Institute has a new boss. The Magnus Institute also has a new tech support technician. These two facts are unrelated, except they both happen at the same time.

Meanwhile Jon's woken up from being dead for six months and for once he's trying his best. He just wishes Martin would stop avoiding him and answer his messages...

Notes: if you’re looking for a good laugh, this fic is SO SO SO FUNNY. i was dying. basically the magnus institute being an absolute bureaucratic nightmare.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite

Summary:

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Notes: it’s all about the yearning. and trust me, the yearning in this fic? im just. i sure do love jonmartin, and this is such soft, loving jonmartin it just makes you want to cry

two ships passing by pyrites

Summary:

Gerard Keay is 10 years old the very first time he tries to run away from home, right around the time that Jonathan Sims has just come into possession of his first Leitner.

Or: One dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves.

Notes: again, JONGERRY. MY GOODNESS. this fic is beautiful, the writing is absolutely breathtaking and it owns my heart. im so in love with it. the author said you’re going to have emotions about jon and gerry and jongerry and i said OKAY

Terminal Sight by viv_is_spooky

Summary:

Spider silk weaves through the visions of two Seers. Monstrosity is dawning on them both.

Notes: I’d never read a gerryoliver fic before this, but the execution is EXCELLENT and now im sold on the ship forever. This fic has wonderful prose and great characterization and i love it a whole lot.

Incomplete

assistant archivist au by PitViperOfDoom

Notes: I won’t put a summary since I’m reccing an entire series, but. it is absolutely no secret that i adore jongerry. pit’s assistant archivist au slapped me over the head with some gorgeous jongerry oneshots and then gave me the gift of the main fic (which is still in progress) about head archivist martin. i love this au so so much

dustsceawung by callmearcturus

Summary:

Martin had always been favored by the summer courts, and moving up north to the little village of Lacuna is a difficult adjustment. It's rainy and lonely and everyone seems to have a strange, distant relationship with the local faerie court.

However: there is a strange man in a cloak who walks past Martin's remote little cottage every few days.

However: there is a moth that keeps getting stuck in Martin's house during the rain.

These events are not as disconnected as they first appear.

Notes: you ever just read a fic that you didn’t know that you needed until after you read it? yeah. featuring the fae and moth jon and excellent characterization.

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Notes: This is also the moment where I reveal that im a sucker for jongerrymartin. please read this fic. gerry is brought back from the dead in s4 and everyone is far better off for it.

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

Summary:

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Notes: this time travel fixit is shaping up to be an absolutely incredible read. i love the way this author writes jon so so much, and the characterization is spot on. this whole fic just satisfies some little part of me. god. also!! bubonickitten’s writing in general? beautiful. please check out their other works.

The Timeline of Theseus by Applea

Jon tries to force the Spiral to send him back, but the Sprial's corridors never twist things quite the way you want them to. Back in 1996, Elias has no idea why or how the Eye made such a powerful Avatar out of an 8 year old, especially when said 8 year old doesn't actually know he has any powers at all. Clearly such a child cannot be left outside the Institute's care.

Notes: This fic is legitimately brilliant. The author manages to capture the big ADHD mood and the precociousness of baby Jon while managing to write a wonderful storyline. Time travel! Elderly lesbians! A Jonah who is wildly in over his head but was walloped over the head with paternal instinct! Baby Gerry! What more could you possibly ask for?

rooms full of people who do not love each other yet by seaer

Summary:

“Wanted to ask about a book.” The boy has his hand on the counter, and he leans into it, nonchalant. The library is air-conditioned, but by no means frigid, and Jon can’t help but feel sweaty just looking at the layers he’s wearing; what looks like old leather over an olive-green Magnus pullover over his school shirt. “Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Jon says, tetchily, “We’re about to close.”

“I know. Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Notes: I am so in love with this author’s writing style and the way they write the characters!! The jon and gerry friendship is PERFECT and the character interactions are all darling.

if you read these fics please send the authors some love, they definitely deserve it!!

#tma #fic recs #ill update this as i read #seriously some very very good stuff on here #long post

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cosmicpines · 4 years ago

Text

OTGW Dream-Unknown Comic Lore

Hey! Thought I’d make a post about the “ongoing” (now finished) post-series OTGW comic and the implications it has to the lore of the show, since I’m not sure everyone has read them.

Big Note: these comics are only dubiously canon! None were written by Pat McHale.

Other Big Note: I think assigning hard “mechanics” to how the Unknown works defeats the purpose. It is mean to be loose, fairytale like, shepherded by emotion. Putting a stamp on “this is how they get in and out” and “this is exactly what happened” doesn’t make sense -- part of the point is we, Greg, and Wirt don’t know exactly what the Unknown is.

That being said, i still think it’s fun to look at the facts presented in the comics and see if we can figure out a bit of what’s going on. This post is long because this is who I am as a person, apparently.

TLDR: Wirt and Greg can be brought to the Unknown during their dreams, potentially for multiple days in one night. They are there until they both realize they are dreaming and they solve the problem they were brought there for.

Right off the bat, in issue 1, we find out that Greg can go to the Unknown in his dreams -- in this case, because Jason told him that there was a “new case” for them to solve.

He briefly wakes up and goes back to sleep (probably because they wanted to show Wirt in issue 1.)

Greg doesn’t seem surprised to find himself in the Unknown; quite the opposite: Jason is telling him about a “new” case, implying that this has happened before, possibly multiple times. We have no idea how long after the series this takes place, only that it’s either fall or winter, judging from their pajamas.

Greg doesn’t offer us any other insight to what’s going on, but, eventually, Wirt shows up in issue 4. He asks Greg what he’s, and later they, are doing here, implying he did not choose to come and they don’t always come here at the same time.

Wirt is particularly interesting that he seems to think they may not be able to leave again, as he brings up on 2 occasions.

However, this may just be because he doesn’t know he’s dreaming.

(Yes, that’s Sara. More on her later.)

A detail that I think is important from the show here -- then, Wirt also couldn’t remember entering the Unknown, since he seemed to think he and Greg were lost and not, you know, drowning in a river. I think it’s very possible that when you enter the Unknown, you forget how you got there. Remembering that is key to being able to escape.

Sara tells Wirt he’s dreaming, and from that point on, he no longer waxes about being trapped: he instead tells Greg he wants to go home, as seen in issue 12.

When Greg and Wirt split up to solve the last mysteries:

This implies that they don’t have to go home together and, at this point, they are more or less capable of going home whenever.

Issue 16 brings them both home, Greg after revealing Hero Frog’s intentions and getting Jason elected mayor:

And Wirt after he and Sara defeat the Shapeshifter.

(poor wirt lmao)

I think these puzzle pieces can lead to a conclusion: They can only go home from the Dream Unknown once they are both aware that they are dreaming and they solve whatever problem they were brought here for. Once they do, they can go back whenever they want.

After waking up, Greg immediately checks on his brother.

Solidifying that they remember what happened, and, implying at least, that they don’t always get home at the same time. I can see scenarios where one sits in the other’s room, waiting for them to wake up...

We ultimately don’t know how often this happens, what triggers it, and how aware they are of the whole thing. Judging from their reactions to being there and going home, I feel like this sort of thing happens often enough, but not so often that it’s exhausting and/or terrifying... once a month, maybe?

If that rate increases, though... well, that’s just some fun fanfiction fuel.

Some other observations:

1. Greg and Wirt may not experience things exactly the same in the Dream Unknown.

When Wirt first shows up, he makes this comment:

“A bunch of nightmare stuff” seems a little... extreme, for what Wirt was doing, as said ghost was a beaver in a sheet.

Issue 6 offers a potential explanation. The framing device for this issue is a tavern keeper asks them why they look so tired, and Greg and Wirt both tell the story of having to sit in a location all night to meet someone, but their stories vary wildly. For Greg, they were on a stage. For Wirt, they were in a graveyard.

Both stories have seriously different levels of Wirt’s enthusiasm,

and how creepy it is.

I won’t pretend that this is canon that they’re experiencing it differently; it’s definitely possible that one or both of them are unreliable narrators. Certain details, like Wirt singing, point more to that, but others, like Wirt getting eaten by a demon horse, is... a lot more extreme, haha.

This is also partly refuted later in the comic, as Greg and Wirt get separated but visit the same places, which are largely the same.

But still, it’s a fun idea.

2. Sara is here

Yeah, so, this can either be adorable or terrifying.

All Sara really says about her being here is that she thinks this is a lucid dream where Wirt is a person in it, which Wirt never presses her but come on Wirt please press her cause what the fuuuuuuckkkkk????? Sara ultimately doesn’t seem to know what the Unknown really is, since she only refers to it as a lucid dream.

Three explanations I can think of:

1. Her line “I’m having a lucid dream and you’re a part of it” could be meant to imply that the opposite: Wirt is the one having the dream and has dreamed up a Sara to adventure with him.This Sara is just something Wirt has created to join him in the Unknown, and the real Sara isn’t involved or aware of this at all. This isn’t the first time the Unknown has created a Sara, if you consider Distillatoria canon (which... ehhhhh...... I have Opinions about that lol)

2. Sara has been to the Unknown before. If that is the case, it either happened recently, since Wirt is surprised to see her there, or Sara has been doing this for a while and they just haven’t run into each other. Her saying it’s just a dream isn’t incorrect, and if she doesn’t think Wirt is really Wirt (that the Unknown created him), there’s no reason for her to be like “hey, we’re in a dream recreation of purgatory that apparently has a grasp on my soul for all eternity.”

3. This is the first time Sara has been to the Unknown, and Wirt unintentionally brought her along. This one has the least evidence towards it, but I think it’s interesting. Greg is able to bring his stuffed raccoon with him to the Unknown, so why can’t Wirt bring the consciousness of his crush and/or girlfriend?

Another thing to think about when considering this: Wirt and Greg are in the Unknown in their Halloween costumes. I like the idea that whatever you wore to the Unknown when you go is what you always wear when you’re there. Sara is all dressed for an adventure, with a cute green cape, a huge backpack, and a bee mask (specifically to trick the shapeshifter).

So I’m not sure what she might have been doing to be wearing this and then end up in the Unknown... Either she’s into LARP, she got into a hiking accident while wearing a sick cape, she changed clothes after arriving in the Dream Unknown, or her outfit is part of Wirt’s dream.

No idea which explanation is “correct;” I think they’re all interesting to play with!

3. Jason has relatives in the Unknown

Apparently the Hero Frog is Jason’s dad???

Which is... fascinating, considering they found Jason before going into the Unknown.

I think I read ages ago a theory that Jason is originally from the Unknown and got out somehow, as he is a lot more intelligent than a real frog should be. Who knows, though.

It’s probably also of note that Jason is the one who instigates them entering the Unknown, “telling” Greg there’s a mystery to solve.

4. Multiple days pass by in the dream

This is “fun...”

Day 1: Issue 1 (Greg’s arrival) - Issue 4 (Wirt’s arrival, diverging story)

Day 2: Issue 6 (morning after diverging tale) - Issue 7 (Greg sneaks around bird town, Wirt encounters a ghost)

Day 3: Issue 9 (Greg goes over a mountain. There’s a very fast day-night cycle here, but I think it’s for comedic effect. Wirt arrives in bird town and meets up with Sara.) - Issue 11 (Greg joins some “highwaymen”) /12 (Wirt and Sara help a sick goose)

Day 4: Issue 12 (Greg, Wirt, and Sara meet up in frog town) - Issue 14 (Greg spies on Hero Frog, Wirt and Sara get taken by an orphanage)

Day 5: Issue 15 (Greg/Wirt/Sara make their plan, Greg goes home before nightfall in 16) - Issue 16 (Wirt and Sara defeat the shapeshifter)

This is 5 full days they spend in the dream. Some of them are a lot fewer events than would happen in a day, and it’s very likely time is moving faster in the dream, but... jeez. That’s got to screw with your mind if this happens too often. Like, imagine the worst case scenario where they go to the Unknown every night and spend 5 days there every time! I doubt this is the case, but holy shit.

5. Beatrice, the Woodsman, Lorna, and the Beast are nowhere to be seen

This is more of an observation, but there is not even a passing mention of any of these three. Either they were all checked in on their first dream adventure, or they can’t remember that first adventure while in the dream too clearly...

There’s a ton of fun theories that you can make out of the Dream Unknown. Is the Dream Unknown the same as the Halloween Unknown? Are the boys souls claimed by the Unknown forever? Will it keep calling them back, night after night, until they go back permanently? How does this effect their healing from their trauma? Are these dreams going to increase or decrease in frequency? Do they always last exactly one night? Can Wirt fall asleep in class, spend a week in the Unknown, and wake up before the end of the period? Can Greg go to bed for the night and not wake up all day, but only have been in the Unknown for a few minutes? Does time pass in the Unknown without them there? In the Dream Unknown, will they always be the age that they originally were when they entered the Unknown? Does anyone else in the Unknown do this? (at some point, I want to do a theory post about who is from the Unknown and who is from the “real” world...)

Anyway... this post completely ran away with me. Hope you enjoyed! Send me your theories; I’m itching to hear them!

#over the garden wall #otgw #jeez this ended up really long #there was just a lot to talk about haha #mary blabs

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bubblyani · 4 years ago

Text

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing, Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely.

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Present)

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body, Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately, “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

What’s up, gorgeous?

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep…” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “…seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

How’s your Spanish?

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

I am studying…very important words.

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

Like what?

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

For example…

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

(Do) whatever you want!

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

“And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude” you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Present)

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on, “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face. You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?”

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

You’re mine!

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!” You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

Yes, Forever!

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

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