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soraviie · 2 years ago

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pining for you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: sister of "you assume it's unrequited.txt" this one from the boys' POV; angst + light fluff

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ sorry for the shortness of Tae's piece, it just felt right to begin and end with those sentences

━ leave a comment or I’ll drown you in a tub of money. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

KNJ | Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts.

Rude, conceited, disagreeable. An ill-mannered hamster of a person!

Kind, smart. Different.

Different.

Was that why it usually takes him two whole days to muster up enough courage to speak to you? Or was the situation as a whole something more base — he desired that certain someone because they utterly and unmistakably wanted nothing to do with him?

Be that as it may, he needed rules. Rules for his status, rules for his peace of mind. Rules for his rapidly deteriorating mood. Why continue to pursue a person who runs away from you? Who didn’t like you at all; not even a little bit? Logically it made absolutely no sense.

With a deep, exhausted groan, he lets his head fall against the overcrowded desk of his unlit studio.

“Follow the rules, Namjoon,” he breathes out, feeling the rush of warm air reflect from the wood underneath. “Follow the rules and you should be fine.”

There were only five of them. after all. He ought to manage.

Rule no. 5: don’t think too personally about anything they do.

People showed menial kindness every single day of their lives. These were just gestures, acknowledging nods of the bond created between a person and a society at large. If the corners of your lips quirked as he was telling a joke it wasn’t because you thought of him as incredibly funny but it was because you were humouring him yourself. Should you happen to leave a note on his schedule: “Jaehyun told Sae who told me you needed 17th free for family reasons. It’s been arranged. Happy visit!” then it only meant that you were good at your job. He didn’t dispute that. Though Namjoon suspects he’s not doing all that good of a work with this rule — every single time your shoulder brushes past his, as you quickly make your way to whatever destination called you next, his heart, unfailingly, unflinchingly, skips a beat.

Rule no.4: no intruding upon your life.

He’s not intruding. Offering to get coffee and a pastry is not intruding. You haven’t eaten! You always wait for the last minute and if anything this was for collective good! Should you faint and an ambulance would have to be called, work day comes to a grinding halt! So he was merely thinking of it as a team effort, that’s all!

“Yeah,” he thinks to himself with a tired sigh, holding the bag of two breads in his hand. One for him and you. “I don’t think I’m good at this rule, either.”

Rule no.3: no personal contact or affection.

Line upon line, he traces the bold black letters of the notes littered across his fridge. In some cases, the marker has soaked the paper to the point of tearing.

NO HOLDING HANDS! he reads as a reminder while brushing his teeth in the morning.

NO BUMPS ON THE SHOULDER! mocks the writing on his bathroom mirror as he spits the damn toothpaste out.

“No holding you in his embrace,” he softly whispers to himself, hearing you cry on the other side of the ajar door.

But maybe…!

His fingers freeze around the door knob and with a bated breath he waits.

But maybe…!

He proceeds to curl his palm into a fist, closing the door softly closed.

No maybe’s.

No holding you in his embrace.

Rule no.2: limit personal time spent together.

That you seemed to be taking care finely by yourself. It hasn’t escaped him — the mad scramble you threw yourself in whenever he appeared. Across the stage, across the hall, across a busied street. Didn’t matter what conditions and barriers stood before you, recklessly you threw yourself over them, all but fleeing away.

Did it hurt? Yes.

But was it for the best? Yes.

“Fuck what’s for the best,” he sulks to himself, angrily punching the keyboard of his computer.

However, because Namjoon's life was nothing but a puppet show and he was indeed the puppet that’s on the stage getting repeatedly thwacked by a bat, the harder he tried to stay away from you, the more he found himself in your presence.

Noticing you approaching from the other side of the hallway, nose buried into a file, he, guided by nothing but pure-minded intentions, decides to spare you the running away and bolts into what he presumed to be an empty cupboard. Moments later you walk into his chest and only then he notices your name plastered across the door.

He walked straight into an office.

But as bad as he is observing all those rules, as much as he often breaks them quite knowingly, it’s but a mere echo of how much he can’t observe rule no.1.

rule no.1: out of sight, out of mind

Out of sight perhaps but out of mind? He wouldn’t dream of it. In fact if he does dream then you’re it. Every song, every laughter of another pair, every line in a poem and brush stroke of a painting.

You, you, you.

Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts. And just like someone whom he doesn’t remember said, the thing he hated most about you was that he didn’t hate you at all.

MYG | "9,000,000₩...no, more like 10,000,000₩."

"What are you doing?"

Throwing a thoroughly accusing glare over the rim of his glasses, Jimin coolly replies:

"I'm calculating the sum of money you'll have to pay for your crimes."

"What crimes would those be?"

"Stalking," taking an overtly smarmy sip from his iced coffee pinky outstretched and all, Jimin observes tiredly groaning Yoongi.

"Not this again," he huffs irately. "How many times? I'm not stalking. We're just friends."

"Friends," Jimin snorts as though what Yoongi said was at least decently hilarious. "Friends, my ass."

"Well if that's how you treat them."

From the sour expression alone Yoongi gathers the sentiments that Jimin wanted to hurtle at him and truly he was far too drained to hear any of them.

"I'm off," curtly, he tosses over his shoulder, gathering up his coat. Jimin's eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

"Already?"

"It'll stick that way," Yoongi points a finger at the other man's befuddled expression before promptly shutting the doors behind. Perhaps he did hear the bellowed question — "are you really going to see that bartender again?" — but he did not regard it. So what if he did? Taehyung had tens if not dozens of friends and no one ever gave him a hard time because of it.

Walking through the familiar haphazard turns which spun his way towards you, the blinding light of apothecary suddenly reminds him. Right, the patches.

"Thank you! Come again soon!"

Politely, Yoongi nods at the young woman's words, reflexively pursing his lips into a pinched smile behind the black mask. Calmly and silently he walks the by now usual route to your bar, occasionally thumbing at the nicotine patches in the pocket of his coat. Quitting for him wasn't exactly easy or difficult per se — there was simply no incentive for him to care all that much. Sure, he knew it was bad for his health but...so? So what? However, now he's found a certain kind of joy in quitting, even if he wholeheartedly believes these patches were nothing but a frankly lazy cash grab. This is your thing with him. He gets to share something with you. Like a human to a human. When you smile he knows it's not because you have to, not because he's a paying patron but because you like him.

And Min Yoongi happens to very much like you too. By now it's redundant to hide away from the truth or be so conceited about the fact, he'd sit here like a fucking fool denying the reality. It's not quitting an unhealthy habit that has him escaping work more, that has his legs racing to get to trash bins of all the places in the world. Who could have known a dingy side alley would become a piece of deluded home?

And sure, you probably don't like him like that, certainly you won't once the truth of his identity will come out, as it always does, but he's fine with it, as long as he can still keep seeing you. Seeing you as just himself — without the pretense.

Plus he has plenty of chances to tease you about living under a rock.

When he finds you, you’re looking like a roadkill. Hair frazzled, hands wringing nervously as you pace — a sign of nicotine craving hitting bad. Your face is scrunched up in deep worry and wrinkles line your forehead with thorough dedication.

Min Yoongi couldn’t be any fonder.

Before he has the chance to roast you to hell and back, you notice him across the swirling shadows of the alleyway, throwing your hands into the air.

“I thought you would never show up! Gimme!”

You reach your grabby hands towards him and playfully, Yoongi scoffs.

“Wine and dine me first, heathen. A guy can be more than a piece of ass you know. I have….feelings.”

“You’re a demon on two legs and a good skincare,” irately, you hiss and for a second Yoongi does think you would just rip the coat off him in search for the damn patches. He wouldn't…

…necessarily mind.

Khem.

He peels the patch out from his pocket and smacks it right into the middle of your forehead. With a deeply exhausted groan, you slide down the wall.

“I hate bachelorettes,” the miserable cocoon whimpers.

Yes, Yoongi knew as much. This was strictly a piece of knowledge you probably should never know but the first time he came here a bachelorette was also taking place. Under normal circumstances he would make a hasty exit but the stream of inebriated, overjoyed women had blocked all his possible routes of escape so he had no choice but to dwell like a malicious goblin at the far side of the bar in the hopes that they won’t take that long. The seat that he’d been forced into was next to the doors to the staff room and it was here that he first saw you. Or rather he heard you. Cursing. With such colour and speed that two things flashed through his mind:

with some training you’d make a decent rapper

damn, that vocabulary has my ears getting red.

By the end of the night, he left you a big, big tip, stuffing the wads of cash into his emptied whiskey glass and hiding it behind the bar where only you could find it. Tossing one last glimpse over his shoulders, wading through the mass of party streamers and spare boa feathers, he saw your disheveled form. As tired as you were, you were holding onto the small girl — Sara was it? — patting her on the back like your own child, assuring you’d cover for her tomorrow so she could rest.

Good. Even then he could sense that you were good. And watching down upon you now, just as disheveled and tired but still inherently good, he was happy he’d raced to meet you out here on one of his prevalent uh…”people watching” activities that just so happened to center around this bar.

“STALKING!” Jimin’s voice unwittingly surges from the back of his head and he jolts in surprise of it.

You lift your pitiful gaze from the backs of your hands and observe him quietly.

“Is your shoulder okay?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Cause you strained it two days ago—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

WHY?! WHY WAS HE DOING WHAT HE WAS DOING?!?

Min Yoongi, have you lost your mind, he scolds himself, harshly pulling his hand away.

So he…he just caressed your cheek. That…was a thing that just happened.

You both remain awkwardly quiet.

“The nicotine craving is really getting to you, huh?” you chuckle thinly, voice falling far, far above the average tembre.

“Yeah, I’m overwhelmed,” dryly, he retorts, pushing the hand that touched your cheek deep into the pocket of his coat.

I’m not going to wash it, is his first thought. That’s fucking gross, is the second.

“Why is your face all red?” you inquire curiously.

“None of your business!”

KSJ | Because one inevitably lives in a society there are certain rules and roles one has to observe. Jin for the most part has managed to break out of the mold that was so surely set for him. Becoming an idol did inadvertently saddle him with some expectations of how he should act and in what words that act ought to be shrouded in but it didn’t change the fact that a son of a CEO, no matter how humble that company was, ran off one day and became an idol.

As long as the rules only involved himself he was quite ready to do what he pleased. But this was…different. His role didn’t just involve you, it was because of you.

He’d never seen his father so serious as he was on that day when he pulled Jin aside and somberly whispered.

“I’m not saying that the kid is bad,” you were already adult then. “But that family is no good, Jin. Just…it’d be better for both of you if you’d forget it, son.”

His throat had then been full with the beat of his heart. By that point the attraction he had for you was simmering in the back of his mind. He thought he’d concealed it fine enough, letting the curious surprise at how you turned out to be sit in the confines of his privacy but apparently not. His father had tossed him the last knowing glance and mingled back into the party, leaving Jin to stand in his corner confused and suddenly cold.

But if society was a peculiar thing, then a mind was even more so.

Because for some reason Jin’s mind decided to obsess over that one person on the earth who had the personality of a power tool.

“Two years of my life.”

“Yoongi, please, this isn’t about you,” Jin whimpers miserably, sound falling muffled as his face is pressed tightly against the bedcover. “Give me some sympathy!”

“I have none.”

Jin is not quite certain how he manages it but even Yoongi’s disembodied voice carries its frustration so clearly, he can almost see the man in front of his eyes.

“Because of you, for two years of my life I had to listen to how beautiful they are, how clever. “Did you know they graduated in the top 5 in their university?! Yoongi, top 5!” I even had to organize to send them flowers on graduation from a secret admirer because of that bullshit feud your family has with theirs.”

The last part he scoffs.

Jin scrambles up from the bed.

“Can we get to the most important part here?” he huffs, bringing the phone closer to his mouth.

“And what would that be?”

“Me!”

The roll of Yoongi’s eyes is almost audible.

“And what about you? So you kissed them and chickened out. What’s more to it?”

“wHAT’S MORE TO IT?!” Only barely Jin manages to pull in a meditative breath, in order to not project his left lung all the way back to Korea. “What’s more to it?!” he hisses. “I’m supposed to be a brotherly figure. At best! They’re younger than me—”

“They’re still an adult.”

“I’ve known them since we were kids!”

“Real meet-cute, what can I say?”

“It’s just-It’s just! It’s just not meant to be!”

“If it’s not meant to be, why did you kiss them at all?”

Jin doesn’t reply and after a moment he drops the call entirely, leaving Yoongi to ruefully sigh in his dark studio.

“I fucking hate slow burns,” he grumbles.

Rolling out of the bed, Jin dejectedly waddles through the door. It’s the middle of the night, safe to say everyone else was sleeping. Why did he kiss you, he ponders waddling to the kitchen, why indeed. A brotherly figure was definitely not supposed to do that, doesn’t matter if you were just a close friend of his cousin or not. But then why had you embraced him last summer?

As your hands came up to form circle around his waist and with your breath reeking heavily of alcohol and the pink boa slipping down one of your shoulders, dragging limply behind like a tail, why did you have to mutter into his chest how much you liked him? That he was guilty for the suffering he’d caused you? Previously Jin was quite content with pining you from afar, indulging in the idea of you rather than the real you which would bear consequences for both of you but with you clinging onto him he had glimpsed behind the veil and the veil refused to close.

At times, he became tempestuous, gaming angrily while casting furtive glances at the phone, weighing the options of giving you a call. Why shouldn’t he be with you? After all that he’s had to sacrifice and give up, his father should have no choice about the turns in his life!

But…he always weighed against it. The matter wasn’t just about him but it was about you as well and because of it…he’d rather not act. He’d follow the role he was set to act, dignified and polite, he would be what he should be and not give you any hard time.

That is until, just as dignified and polite, you cast yourself in an entirely different role — corner him one day at a beach, the last day of a vacation, and there atop of the cold sand with an ease and grace of a century passed, you kiss him, forever changing the meaning of the word “love”.

JH | Dacquoise? Or perhaps an opera cake? Both could potentially be too sweet. But dacquoise looked pretty, however, opera cake had chocolate and one couldn’t go wrong with chocolate…

“Shopping for your girlfriend, mister?” the girl by the counter asks sweetly and immediately Hoseok smiles behind the mask. Lately just the thought of you tugged at the corners of his lips with a heavy hand.

“No, it’s actually for my,” the smile flickers “Teacher.”

In the end, he leaves the shop with a sizable chunk of swiss roll.

Bad Hoseok, crazy Hoseok, dummy Hoseok, he curses himself, trailing despondently down the road. Who would be so moronic as to start crushing on his own tutor?

“Ah, really, you’ve lost your shit, brother,” he mutters underneath the nose, falling heavily against someone's apartment building, careful not to damage the swiss roll dangling in the crook of his elbow.

“Mr Jung?”

Hoseok disjoined himself from the wall with a sudden start. With your slippers dragging against the concrete, you jogged over, fretfully glimpsing around the half-emptied street.

“When you said you’d drop by for a visit, I thought you were joking.”

With feigned innocence, he swings on the balls of his feet, growing flustered underneath the weight of your disapproving glare.

He was not nearly as innocent as he pretended. Would an innocent man utilise your soft spot for him to be forgiven? Would he beg and grovel to be accepted as a student with the hopes of it…leading to more? Would an innocent man lay awake at deep night and dream of things that were decidedly not innocent? Would he think of you scolding him with a smile of content?

Without the shadow of a doubt, Hoseok would be glad if you slapped him, as long as you touched him in the end.

No, an innocent man would not even dare entertain such a sinful idea. You still believed he was innocent and shamefully, horribly, selfishly he used that.

What a horrible man he was.

“Eyyy, how could I not visit when my favourite tutor moves apartments?” gently, he shakes you by the shoulder. “Let’s eat cake!”

“But—!”

“Let’s go!”

No, an innocent man would not grasp your hand as an excuse.

“Not, this again,” you growl in between bites of the swiss roll. There is no furniture and as such you both have to sit on the floor, using bendy plastic forks as utensils.

“The view is nice. Seodaemun-gu is a better choice, for sure.”

“Mr Jung!”

“Hoseok, please!”

Nearly in tears from exasperation, you cry out:

“Hoseok, please.”

The grin from his face disappears entirely as he took in the fraught state of your eyes. Was he…being cruel to you somehow?

“I like you, I really do,” his heart makes an uncomfortable leap and even you seem to catch on to the choice of wording, swallowing nervously as you did. “A-as a student I mean but I still quit as a tutor, there’s no way—”

“Yes, there is,” calmly, he puts the fork down, inhaling a shuddery breath. The air smells of your perfume. He hadn’t yet thought of a way to ask the name for it without coming off as…creepy. “Private tutor. I pay you out of my own wallet. I’ve arranged with management that I’ll take all the official exams but without their oversight.”

Just me and you.

“Mr Jung—”

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseok—”

“I’ll pay you 3 million won per month.”

“Still—”

“A million per meeting.”

If feasible, there would be smoke coming out from your nostrils.

“Dear Hoseok,” your lips blossom into a wide smile and he shudders, falling abruptly silent. That smile meant he’s going to get kicked to the moon.

“Do you want to learn a good English phrase?”

“Of course, I do!"

“BRO, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SPEAK!”

Even you yourself seemed to be somewhat taken by the outburst. Blushing slightly, you cough, adjusting a strand of unperturbed hair.

“What I mean is money is not the issue. I already got a job translating documents for a firm nearby but what I mean is…”

Eagerly, Hoseok waits.

“What you mean is?” he continues, the thrumming of his heart so loud, he fears you’d hear it.

You gnaw on your lip, gaze flickering wildly all over his face.

“What I mean is,” you struggle out. “I...I…”

“You…?”

“I don’t think I’m the best tutor for you.”

Like a bucket of ice cold water, the sentence washes over him and Hoseok suddenly realises how close he’d leaned into you. With an embarrassed cough of his own he regains the proper distance.

“Nonsense. Isn’t that for me to decide? As your student,” the word sits bitter on his tongue. “I ought to choose what method of teaching is best for me. And you’re the best for me. Am I not the best for you?”

So far from an innocent man.

Your gaze slowly averts away and the way he relishes its shyness is almost perverse.

“Nah, you’re the best,” quietly, you remark, biting on a piece of swiss roll.

PJM | Two girls at the front of the club line were enjoying their conversation. Jimin was also enjoying their conversation.

“There’s that person here tonight. Eun-Chae swears she saw them coming in.”

“The one who made those pretty earrings she had last month? Ahh, I’m so jealous!”

“Hmm. Rumour is they’re really underground but if you get an invite from someone who's already been their client, they take you on.”

“Oh, really? How did Eun-Chae get it then?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to say this…” the girl with the long hair trailed off and even Jimin trailing behind her to get into the club could hardly control the scoff that threatened to break out of him. Not supposed to say this. Did she not know that once those words were spoken any true gossiper would drink seas of blood to hear such a delicious piece of information.

“But!”

Ah, so she did have some mercy.

“But apparently she got an invite from an undisclosed member of Stray Kids.”

As they both squealed, Jimin parted ways with the two women, easily blending into the nightclub. The fact that an underground jeweller was here did not surprise him. This particular club attracted all sorts of creative scenes. He didn’t much care for it, really, that is until he saw you. Hunched over the vomit littered stairs with a pair of pliers in between your hands you were working on what seemed to be an intricate piece of necklace.

Surreptitiously, Jimin snuck closer, mostly because he’d come alone here tonight. Without friends it was boring as all hell. Watching you work soon proved to be incredibly fascinating. The way that the space between your eyebrows wrinkled, how precisely your eyes focused on each individual detail. How you were able to regain calm and professionalism even amidst the chaos of sweaty bodies and pounding bassline. You cradled these pieces with the same care people did their children…or pets. It truly was a fascinating sight that Jimin could relate to.

Fast forward some months forth, he now also realises that it’s the sight he’s utterly fallen in love with.

“You’re breathing on my neck.”

The grumpiness in your tone rouses him from the memory and Jimin finds himself firmly planted in the present. With his chin perched on the curve of your shoulder, he watches carefully as your lithe fingers string the small pearls one by one. He wonders how would they feel caressing his bare skin. Would they tickle? Would they be warm?

“Am I? My sincere apologies.”

“You lying, little—!”

He flicks the back of your head.

“Ey, no swearing.”

You glare back at him, the only luminescence in the room being the small desk lamp you used at your workstation. Though Jimin couldn’t be absolutely sure where the border between what he wanted and what was differed but he knew for certain, there was something behind the way your gaze flickered to his lips and remained there for a touch too long.

He ran a tongue over his lips.

“You want to kiss?"

Your hand reaches upwards, abandoning the pearls and Jimin’s knees grow weak. He has to brace himself harder against the desk but it’s wholly useless as his arms come up by your sides. He’s caging you in? Nonsense! You’re the cager.

You flick him harshly against the forehead.

“Rich man stops being a perv when crossing the threshold into my home. Rule 12.”

“So many rules…” Jimin sulks, cradling the now sore spot. “You’re such a control freak.”

“So what if I am?” you toss over the shoulder, bringing your attention back to the pearls. It was both of your decision that the layered pearls would be a statement piece for an upcoming photoshoot. That is another thing he loves about you. You never insist upon him wearing chains or dainty pieces, you go for the middle. That same middle that he liked.

“Masculine, feminine,” he remembers you scoffing harshly one night. “If I make it, it’s just jewelry above all.”

For now he decides to leave you alone. Even if you like him, he knows you wouldn’t hesitate to toss him out by the scruff. That was the third thing he loves about you. Third thousand that is. While you work, he gleefully immerses himself into observing your home. He tidies a book or a blanket here and there, mostly to occupy the time.

Lador shampoo. He spots one in the bathroom. Should he tell you that he saw you use it and now uses it himself just so that his hair would smell like yours and he’d have something to serve as a reminder of you when going away?

No…that’s a bit unhinged. He’d accidentally spilled that piece of information to Yoongi and the man had been a hair strand away from calling the police.

“It’s not that weird,” he pouts to himself. “At least I’m not a stalker.”

Well, he did get your address from that undisclosed member of Stray Kids…

Faint scratching against the window brings his gaze up from the shitty kitchen tiles to the even shittier window and its half broken blinds.

“Nori!” he greets the tabby cat warmly. “Are you hungry?”

“STOP CANOODLING MY CAT, PARK!” your yell shakes the air before he can even reach for the can of open tuna. “You’re allergic to fur. Get your ass back here!”

He doesn’t dare to not oblidge.

“Look at you, sitting all pretty,” you purr, clasping the necklace shut.

Smarmily, Jimin runs a hand through his hair.

“Why thank you.”

For a second, your face scrunches as it does when you’re thinking something deeply but then the creases smoothe out and you toss him a half-hearted glare.

“Obviously I meant the necklace.”

“Was it that obvious?”

You reach to flick his forehead once more but this time Jimin catches your hand. Though the sly smirk growing upon his face is wiped with a bold stroke as he feels the numerous cuts marring the skin.

Sternly, he inspects them, wrapping his fingers tighter around yours as you struggle to pull away.

“No one did this to you, did they?” his voice drops an octave and unbeknownst to him, your breath catches in the middle of the throat. Park Jimin — forever a mystery, an onion gradually unfolding his many sides.

“Of course, not,” with feigned ease you reply, trying to take your hand back. He does not let it. “It’s just…collateral damage.”

“Your body is not collateral damage.”

“They’re just hands, Jimin.”

“Not even one inch,” he concluded sternly, not a millimeter in his expression or lilt of his voice freeing up the space for a debate to unfold.

Your fingers are cold, he finds out. But that’s okay, he’ll warm them up for you.

KTH | House, also referred to as "playing house" or "play grown up", is a traditional children's game. It's a form of make believe where players take on the roles of a family.

Though what is happening now is set in reality, in a way, Taehyung is playing a form of make believe.

By now it’s been well observed. 15 minutes into a movie and you’re passed out. Not even a night of solid drinking could make a person this unconscious. The make believe in this situation wasn’t scheduling a hang out at his place, it wasn’t the fact that he’d offered to watch a movie while fully knowing of your tendency to fall asleep, it’s not even wrapping his hand around your shoulder and letting his head rest atop of yours. It’s the dreaming that was fake. The endless hope that one of these days he would do something, that you would do something. Every once in a while, he gets the feeling that you might like him. But it’s gone so soon, he inevitably ends up presuming it’s just in his head.

Wasn’t it?

The blue glow of the screen illuminates your features with an eerie glow and even as someone screams, being chainsawed in half, you don’t move an inch. Now, a boyfriend would lift you up and bring you to the bed, covering your form with a warm blanket and then sliding in. But boyfriends were allowed to do so. That, however, is the fine line where comes the end of his game of house. Some things are simply not allowed.

Gently, he shakes you awake and blinking blearily, you let a pitiful mumble of confusion.

“Tae?”

His heart clenches.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t you have to go home?”

In the deluded state that you’re in, you throw both arms around his neck and mumble sleepily into the crook of his neck:

“Don’t wanna. Let me crash here.”

To stab already his bleeding heart, you add:

“Please?”

How could he possibly say no to you?

Falling in love with your friend is technically not a crime but Taehyung thinks that it should be. It’s nothing short of criminal — the level of delusion he entertains whilst adjusting his shirt to sit lower on your body. He should be arrested for the gentleness and care he takes in helping you to measly finish your skincare routine. It is sinful that he has the gall to pretend that this is anything but a series of utterly selfish actions. He gets to play house. He gets to play your boyfriend. He gets to slide underneath the covers with you, laying an arm around your waist and watching you slumber, peaceful and at ease.

JJK | Jungkook's part has been upgraded to a oneshot! Read it here!

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;

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firespirited · 8 months ago

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Thoughts after the Twin Peaks season 2 finale (imperfect but very impressive tying up of loose ends). Tomorrow or Friday if I can catch more than two hours spare, I'll be watching "Fire walk with me".

Spoilers and speculation under the cut

I didn't like the puzzle box aspect of unlocking evil with a time/place/formula at all throughout this season.

The finale redeems itself with the dream logic used in the red rooms: places that go nowhere and never end, being disturbed by your coffee being wrong as much as a bleeding wound. The two women Cooper loved and got hurt being interchangeable in fear and guilt. That felt very real.

I hope we get answers about why Laura is there and hasn't moved on. I need to know she's fighting even if it takes 25 years to vanquish what hurt her and forgive herself for the hurt she gave.

If the black and white lodge turn out to be binary opposites like waiting rooms for heaven and hell I will rant about it or shit talk Lynch to every film bro who brings him up.

As far as I'm concerned Fear and Love are yin and yang, facets of the same emotion: you're not afraid if you have nothing to lose, you don't love without being terrified of how vulnerable you're going to be.

Those red rooms better be a place to face inner darkness and tear it down to its beginnings.

Not sure I'll be satisfied by The Return season if the doppelgangers aren't a way of discussing how easily we can be changed, hardened, even made cruel by circumstances.

And again I don't expect feminism from a 90s show but it doesn't take spirits from another dimension to do violence against women.

Femicide is Laura, an abused kid who sought thrills and mindgames to escape her own head, it's Ronette the sex worker who thought she was going to a party, it's Maddie who was so careful but ended in the wrong place at the wrong time,

it's Norma who was almost strangled by Frank when she finally demanded a divorce and Shelly who's violent husband tried to kill her for fighting back and fell into a similar relationship. It's Josie who's trapped no matter how high she climbs and was unknown to the men who claimed to love her. Even rich naïve Audrey almost became collateral in a territorial dispute between two men.

Bob didn't create that world. We did. Bob is in every person who exploits a power difference, who chooses to bully or to look away for profit.

Laura's screams made me weep. There was so much more than fear, there was hopelessness and loneliness. I don't know how the actress managed to do that but I really admire people who can (see also Mitski's frustrated fury and powerlessness in Long Walk Home live version.)

Fairytales exist to explain danger to kids without having to tell them that the wolf is the cute guy who made you feel pretty and blue beard was by all accounts a good husband until you open his secret room.

I'm not sure how i feel about Bob as an adult fairytale after this messy season and so little explanation of what he represents. It's a little easy to blame him for men's evil.

#Twin peaks #twin peaks season 2 #saf #But also tv

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anglesideangle · 2 months ago

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A Study in Sonder

a short story by livy taillon

please give me feedback and stuff id love to hear (read?) it

small warning for the tiniest mention of blood

ok here it is

Hal Avalos loves people-watching. He relishes going on drives around his city of Philadelphia, observing the intricacies of city life like he’s done for the past 48 years—ever since he could drive. He prefers to walk, but at his age, he is limited, which is a shame. It’s easier to hear conversations and see the details of a face while walking.

Hal finds something interesting in nearly every interaction he watches, which separates him from other people. Just last Saturday on a brunch outing with his friends from Bingo club, he shared a story that made his eyes well up with tears:

He was driving to the park when he stopped at an intersection. He saw a woman walking across the street accidentally drop her wallet, only noticing this once she was on the other side. A car stopped just before running it over and the driver got out, grabbed the wallet, and handed it to the woman. As the car drove away, the woman smiled and waved with genuine gratitude.

After he was finished telling his story, however, his friends sat in silence and stared at him. Jerry, a large man in his early 70s, gave a loud cough.

“So, what is everyone getting to eat? I can’t decide between the sausage and the hashbrowns myself,” said Jerry. Hal was confused at first. Why was no one acknowledging his story? Why were they all staring like he was some demented nutcase? The conversation started up again, and Hal realized they truly thought he was crazy. They thought the events he’d witnessed were ordinary and mundane. He thought this was incredibly dismissive and shallow of them. He also felt a small pang of pity for them that they can’t see others in the way he does; they ignore the interesting people and things all around them. Most people, Hal discovered, have never experienced sonder. Sonder is the realization that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, have lives as complex and intricate as one’s own. Hal himself never realized this; he’s always known it. He was born with intense fascination that extended all the way to passersby.

An extension of his people-watching, Hal enjoys filming people. He films interactions between lovers, friends, families, strangers, and even enemies. Occasionally, when he doesn’t feel like going out to people-watch, he watches his films instead. When he considers a film too good not to share, he creates a new Youtube account with a name that isn’t his and posts the video. He does this because he knows the conventional wisdom says filming strangers without their knowledge is weird and creepy, but documenting one wholesome moment isn’t. A few of his videos have gone viral, but on account of his commitment to staying anonymous, Hal never benefits from it. Despite the lack of profit he gains from it, Hal considers his photography and filmography a very fine art. He considers himself similar to a wildlife photographer filming and documenting animals’ daily lives. Wildlife photographers, however, never interact with their subjects. Whether it is to hurt or help them, those people only watch.

Hal has a different philosophy.

Anna Keens, a 32-year-old woman from Center City, appears in three different videos across the internet. In one of them, posted by William Myers (an account with no other posts and no profile picture) on Facebook, she is seen having a heated dispute with Dante Fox, her ex-boyfriend. In the video, he threatens her and reveals a handgun on his hip. The video ends before Anna’s reaction to this, which worries everyone who sees it. In fact, everyone is too worried about what happens next to wonder about the person behind the camera.

The video of Anna Keens was posted three days after she was reported missing by her sister. During those three days, Anna’s disappearance was beginning to gain traction on social media. The masses were suspicious of Dante Fox, and after the video was posted, they believed their suspicions were right. The police further confirmed speculations when they gained a warrant to search Fox’s apartment. There, they found three of Anna’s teeth, Anna’s blood on a shirt and pair of sneakers, a handgun (the one seen in the video), and a clump of Anna’s red hair along with a bit of scalp in Fox’s trash.

“Dante Fox is a sick man who kept trophies of his heinous crime,” said the chief of police to the press.

Fox pleaded not guilty to first-degree murder. He received a life sentence with no possibility of parole.

Hal sighed in relief when he read the news. Normally, people like Anna went overlooked, but Hal supposed Anna was slightly different from the rest of them. She was young, pretty, and had her whole life ahead of her; which made her murder more enraging. Hal doesn’t really see things this way. To him, all of them are equal.

Hal has filmed many others. Sometimes, their faces show up on the Missing In Philly Facebook group he’s a member of. Others show up on the news, on telephone poles, or even (twice) on billboards. But all of them star in videos of Hal’s—some private, many public. Nobody ever considers it strange how many missing and murdered people can be seen on the internet, made famous by accounts that aren’t their own. To Hal, this shows the general public’s thoughtlessness and lack of critical thinking, but he is glad for their disregard. After all, Hal doesn’t want to be caught. He wants people to keep thinking he’s just an old man in retirement, sitting peacefully on a park bench in Philly, listening to the children playing, watching the birds, and engaging in a little harmless people-watching.

ok so that was my story. hoped you liked it and please leave a comment or something! i may or may not continue sharing my writing here depending on how this does

tags

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #horror #short story #my writing #spilled ink #authors on tumblr #students of tumblr #looking for feedback #may or may not be a terrible writer lmao #please leave a comment #horror writing #flash fiction

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 years ago

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Contemporary descriptions of the dantonist execution compilation

Their trial was over around one o’clock in the afternoon. Only Luiner was acquitted. But as he was detained as suspect for the sake of general security he was escorted to the Luxembourg. The fifteen others were sentenced to death, and driven to the scaffold around six o’clock. They were in three tumbrils: in the first was Danton, next to Delacroix; Fabre near the executioner; Hérault opposite Chabot. In the second, Phelippeaux [sic], Westermann, Camille Desmoulins, Basire and Launai d’Angers [sic]. In the last tumbril, one saw but l’Abbé d’Espagnac; his companions were almost all strangers and little known to the public. Almost all approached death with the same audacity that they had shown in court. Danton, who, like Hébert, was recognizable by his red collar, seemed to pay little attention to the crowd around him: he was chatting with Lacroix and Fabre. Hérault was the quietest. Chabot pointed to the sky, laughing. Desmoulins spoke almost continually to the people; the courage he affected seemed like a painful effort, he was an actor who was studying to play his last part well. Diederichsen, danish lawyer, was executed first, the heads of Lacroix and Danton were the last ones to fall. Only that of Danton was shown to the people, among prolonged cries of ”vive la république.” Suite du Journal de Perlet, number 561 (April 6 1794). A shortened version of this description is given in number 104 of Journal général de la guerre (April 13 1794). According to Michel Biard’s La Liberté ou la mort: mourir en deputé 1792-1795 (2015), these were the only contemporary journals that mentioned any details regarding the execution.

Camille had made incredible efforts to tear herself away from these execrable gendarmes, who have been the lowest servants of despots; so that in going to the scaffold he was completely naked to the waist, because his shirt was in tatters. I saw him cross the space of the palace at the Place de Sang (that's what I called Place de la Révolution) with a frightened air, talking to his neighbors with great agitation, and yet on his face was the convulsive laughter of a man who no longer has his head. Dictionnaire neólogique des hommes et des choses, volume 2, page 480 (1799) by Louis Abel Beffroy de Reigny. In his Testament d’un électeur de Paris (1795) Beffroy adds that he couldn’t restrain his tears in watching Camille pass by.

I saw the tumbrils pass by to the place of execution, containing the men who, a few days before, had been seen as those who were to consolidate the revolution. Some maintained a firm and calm demeanor, others only showed on their faces that humiliating vexation felt by a scoundrel who finds himself caught in the trap set up by his enemy. This feeling was depicted with the most striking expression on the decomposed countenance of Danton. Camille Desmoulins seemed indignant at the deceit of Robespierre, who had never showed him more friendship than on the eve of his arrest. Bazire and Chabot tried to speak to the people by whom they were surrounded; though they spoke loudly, the noise which was made around them drowned out their voices. One only heard them say that, had not Marat been assassinated, he would have been accused of conspiracy like them, and that with them he would go to his execution. The multitude regarded as blasphemous an assertion of which the truth, a few days later, was disputed by no one. They were executed on 17 germinal. Histoire Philosophique de la Révolution de France (1807) by Antoine Étienne Fantin-Desodoards, volume 5, page 371-372

Like Hugues Aubriot, who was imprisoned in the Bastille he had had built in order to trap others, when Danton had been condemned to death by the tribunal he had instituted, the crowd gathered in the square to feast their eyes on the horrible spectacle that the cries of the public promised them. I was going to see Méhul, who was by then living on Rue de la Monnaie, when I came across the tumbril in Rue Honoré in which this revolutionary hero was for the last time presiding over his stricken party. He was calm, between Camille Desmoulins, whom he listened to, and Fabre d'Églantine, who did not listen to anyone. Camille spoke with great warmth, and struggled so much that his unfastened clothes left his collar and shoulders, which the blade was about to separate, bare. Never had life manifested itself in him by more activity. As for Fabre, immobile under the weight of his misfortune, overwhelmed by the feeling of the present and perhaps also by the memory of the past, he no longer existed. Camille who, by cooperating in the revolution, had thought he was cooperating in a good work, still enjoyed his illusion; he believed himself on the road to martyrdom. Alluding to his last writings, he shouted: “My crime is to have shed tears!” to the crowd. He was proud of his conviction. Fabre was on the other hand ashamed of his, he, who had been pushed into revolutionary excesses by less generous interests, was overwhelmed by the awareness of the truth. He saw only torture at the end of the little road that remained for him to travel. Another physiognomy also attracted my attention in this cartload of reprobates, it was that of Hérault de Séchelles. The tranquility which reigned over the handsome face of this former advocate-general was of a different nature from the tranquility of Danton, whose face offered a caricature of that of Socrates. Hérault's calm was that of indifference; Danton's calm that of disdain. The pallor did not sit on the latter's forehead; but that of the other was colored with such a fiery tint that it looked less like he was going to the scaffold than returning from a banquet. Hérault de Séchelles finally seemed detached from life, the preservation of which he had purchased by so much cowardice, by so many atrocities. The appearance of this selfish man astonished everyone: everyone asked his name with interest, and as soon as he was named he no longer interested anyone. […] I went up to Méhul's, and, my imagination full of what I had just seen, I told him: “Tragedy well begun! I want to see the end of it, after having finished in three words the business which brought me. This Danton really plays his role well. We are all on the eve of the day that will end for him. I want to learn how to pass it well too.” "Useful study," said Méhul, who saw things with the same eye as me, and who would have accompanied me if he hadn't been in his dressing gown and slippers. However, the fatal tumbril had not stopped moving; the execution was beginning when, after having crossed the Tuileries, I arrived at the gate which opens onto the Place Louis XV. From there I saw the condemned, not mounting together, but appearing one by one on the fatal scaffold, to die immediately by the effect of the movement which the board or the bed on which was about to begin for them the eternal rest. The rest of the operation was hidden from me by the operatives running it. The accelerated fall of the blade alone told me that it was was being carried out. Danton appeared last on this scene, flooded with the blood of all his friends. Day was falling. At the foot of the horrible statue whose mass stood out in a colossal silhouette against the sky, I saw the rising, like a shadow of Dante, of this tribune who, half-lit by the dying sun, seemed as much to emerge from the tomb as ready to enter it. There is nothing as daring as the countenance of this athlete of the revolution; nothing as formidable as the attitude of this profile which defied the axe, like the expression of this head which, ready to fall, still seemed to dictate laws. Horrible pantomime! time cannot erase it from my memory. I found there all the expression of the sentiment which inspired Danton with his last words; terrible words which I could not hear, but which people repeated to each other, quivering with horror and admiration. ”Above all, don't forget,” he said to the executioner with the accent of a Gracque, don't forget to show my head to the people; it’s worth seeing.” At the foot of the scaffold he had said another word worthy of being recorded, because it characterizes both the circumstance which inspired it, and the man who uttered it. With his hands tied behind his back, Danton was waiting his turn at the foot of the stairs, when his friend Lacroix, whose turn had come, was brought there. As they rushed towards each other to give each other the farewell kiss, a policeman, envying them this painful consolation, threw himself between them and brutally separated them. "At least you won't prevent our heads from kissing each other in the basket," Danton told him with a hideous smile. Danton, as I have said, perishes as a result of a security more justified by reason than by politics. Warned of Robespierre's plans, Robespierre knows too well that he cannot send me to the scaffold without proving that he can be sent there himself." Resting on this idea, he fell asleep in laziness and pleasures. Souvernirs d’un sexagénaire (1833) by Antoine Vincent Arnault, volume 2 page 95-100. According to Biard in Danton: Le mythe et l’histoire (2016) this is the only semi-authentic source we have for Danton’s last words being ”show my head to the people, it’s worth seeing.” It’s still however somewhat dubious considering Arnault places Camille in the wrong tumbril.

#happy deathday dantonists!!#camille desmoulins #fabre d’eglantine #pierre philippeaux #herault de sechelles #and everyone else who was executed tbh #yes even you unknown danish lawyer #french revolution #frev #frev compilation #george danton #danton #did i seriously forget to add a Danton tag…

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whatevermywpis · 2 years ago

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𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼?

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Fluff (?), Angst.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Riddle Rosehearts.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: On.

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: Oneshot

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: They/Them.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Maybe you’ll find the night enjoyable once more.

Warning: Spoilers for Book 1, The Little prince story, and idk tears?

Not that you’ve never enjoyed a peaceful night before but sometimes it just hurts to be alone under a sky like that.

Maybe it was the way you missed the place you called home, even when you found so many people it hurts.

Low and behold when you find a certain prefect not in his dorm keeping check on his dorm and it’s residences.

Past midnight, starry skies, and the sound of fireflies while you lay on the rooftop of the Ramshackle dorm, it was one of those nights again. Not that you didn’t like it but whenever you look at the stars you can’t help but reminisce on the days before everything.

It was incredibly lonely for someone who found friends and support from the people around them, maybe that’s why you hated the night skies, it just reminded you of your situation.

From a distance, you could see the smiles of students staying past bedtime and laughing in Sam's shop, at the end of the day they were nothing more than the people you met, nothing more than bypasses on your lonely journey, nothing more than nice strangers.

Even your best friend who was through thick and thin with you, Grim although had no memory of who he was before his years as a student with you, he was still a cat who had a purpose at this college, you had nothing but wanting of going back.

“Prefect… Prefect (Y/n) get down from there!!” A voice snapped you out of your half-sleeping self, it was none other than Riddle Rosehearts.

He was the first of the many situations of overblot to happen at NRC, but he also held quite a special place in your lonely heart. Maybe it was how you were supposed to abide by his words as a junior or the fact that he came to such a place out of nowhere.

“What are you doing on the rooftop like that?! Don’t you know it’s dangerous?!” His constant shouting might as well wake up the entirety of NRC.

“Housewarden, aren’t you suppose to be at Heartslabyul? It’s really late!!” It was around 1 am but you couldn’t care less, however for someone like Riddle to just take a walk this late shocked you.

“I just… couldn’t sleep, rule 247 states: “If one cannot sleep past 12 pm then a walk would be required, if not then they must drink herbal brew tea”.” Seeing him still walking means he must have chosen the first option.

“You… wanna watch the stars together?” It was honestly a fruitless act but it’s not like he had anything better when he still couldn’t sleep.

As awkward as it was you couldn't help but wonder how you had the guts to ask the house warden of Heartslabyul to stargaze with you at 12:50, and he actually agreed. While it was kind of comforting to have someone by your side at this hour it still wasn't comforting enough to dispute the silence between you two, maybe it was better if you hadn't asked at all.

"Prefect... Why are you still so nice to me?" admittingly it was an 'out of the blue' question but it was better than sitting in silence maybe.

"Well... I have no idea." Short and simple answers, to be honest, you liked to answer things more bluntly when it's just two people.

After his Overblotted incident 2 months before, students around him avoided him a lot, Riddle was used to this type of thing after the first week, many simply put more effort into remembering and abiding by the rules just so they don't face him while others just shudder away when they see him.

Lonely... was a familiar feeling for him yet you were one of the only students who didn't avoid him, it took him back to the time when his mother would make him study and Trey with Chenya would free him from the lonely room. Maybe that's why he felt the need to be more lenient on you, to be a bit nicer with you than the rest of the people from his dorm.

" Nonsense, everything has a reason... you must have a reason for being friends with me." You were a little speechless, he considered you a friend? You didn't even notice this fact until he told you, nothing he did was... out of the ordinary at least.

"Flattered to hear that you consider me a friend, but really Riddle. I don't need a reason for getting closer to you other than..." Riddle forgot to breathe for a second. "Keeping you from the stress I guess."

" How surprising... you don't really seem like the type to care that much..." When you were younger you used to hear fairy tales.

"There's more to me than just supervising Grim, and..." taking his gloved hand which felt cold. " there's more to you than just a strict dorm leader upholding the laws."

When you were younger someone held you close and told you stories, they told you the stories of a lonely prince, a prince all alone on his little planet. One day a rose was gifted to him, it became his emotional support, it became his sole interest, was his friend but like any other plant it did not stay very long.

Riddle reminded you of that rose, strong and beautiful standing proudly as the centrepiece, yet deep down a rose is still a flower no matter the number of thorns, no matter the will, it will still only be a flower.

And you will always be lonely even if you went back home, like the prince he was alone on his little planet yet when he travelled the world did he find something other than loneliness? Maybe that's why you were here, or it could just be you and those wishful thinking, but the prince no matter the number of roses he saw nothing could compare to that of the one he became friends with.

"You’re really pretty from this angle… I wonder why anyone would hate you.” Those unconscious words of yours unintentionally made his face explode into different shades of red as he yanked his hand out of yours.

“Don’t just say stuff like that out of the blue, Prefect!” But then his voice died down when he saw nothing but a vulnerable sleeping freshman.

If there was one word Riddle would use to describe you it would have been foolish, you’re foolish for befriending monsters like him, you’re foolish for caring for a bunch of trouble makers, you’re foolish yet if you asked him to do anything for you he’d do it immediately.

He hates the way you easily take attention everywhere you go, the way you handle overblots as if they were a normal occurrence to you, how strong-headed you were no matter what others say. He hates you to the point you were invited regularly to Unbirthdays, to the point he wouldn’t mind dropping what he was doing just so that he would help you if you needed.

“Riddle…? Please don’t overwork yourself…” you clearly wasn’t in the best mind yet why do those words make his heart flutter? You’re so strange in his eyes, you good child.

“…I promise, now go get some sleep Prefect.” In his eyes, you were the Rose.

The roses which stand out in a vase in his bedroom, the flowers aren’t red yet they were still so beautiful and full of life, you weren’t the best of people nor were roses the best of flowers, you’re harmful like those thorns which prick his hands yet somehow your will to live through the pain and suffering made him realized you might be something he could never compare to yet you’re so fragile like those flowers and was wilting due to the pressure this school was putting you through.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that long before you wilt away like the flowers as time progresses, but would you stay a little fresher if he was the one to help make your life easier? No, he wasn’t the only one who could make your life easier, those troublemaking first years from his dorm had already done that and maybe he was late to the party.

But could he be the one to stay with you till the end? He’s acting so weak and vulnerable it makes him look pathetic, yet you still stuck around even when he was at his lowest.

"You're so confusing... but even so I can't help but wonder why?" The stars still shine as he admires your sleeping figure, you really take his attention this way.

"Why is it that I feel like everything became clearer with you here?" A smile graced his lips as he walked back to his dorm.

Everything was almost as if you two were in a dream, it was peaceful and endearing to see Riddle at his nicest and for Riddle, it was nice to see you happy as well. At the end of the night, the stars still wonder if you both had realized your feeling for each other?

masterlist

#riddle rosehearts x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle x reader #heartslaybul x reader

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bnuunydoll · 1 year ago

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The Tears of Time: A Look at the Gaza-C and Axis Zeon

The smothering silence of space has been shattered for ages. In the Universal Century, the cacophony of war is a constant that ensures the vast emptiness surrounding Earth will never be calm.

In the Year 0087, yet another war is being waged. A lone assault carrier called the "Argama" drifts through the abyssal darkness of space toward an asteroid belt. After fighting battle after battle against the rival Titans, the crew of the Argama are hoping to make contact with the newly introduced Axis Zeon so they can form an alliance. Despite much dispute among the crewmates for aligning with a group that has a history of bloodshed and opposing ideology, those in command steer the vessel further in hopes of making contact.

Much like opening Pandora's Box, the crew is met with a swarm of emotions as they get closer; Only made worse by the swarm of pink mobile suits. Fitted with gleaming mono-eye cameras that fix their emerald optics toward the carrier, these suits called the "Gaza-C", are the first introduction to Axis Zeon. I believe they reveal a myriad of interesting things about the group based on their design and presence in the story that this post will try to explain.

Hello there! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

I haven't written anything in...an embarrassingly long time, but over the last few months I've been indulging myself in Mobile Suit Gundam. From the original '79 series through Gundam ZZ and Char's Counter Attack, I've been fully submerged in the space opera drama, politics, and cool robots. While the nearly 150 episodes of classic mecha anime have definitely given me a lot to think about, I haven't felt comfortable or well read enough to fully approach any of the topics the series deals with; At least until now. The Gaza-C is a mobile suit that I find extremely fascinating, so please bare with me for however long this text ends up being so I can explain my infatuation with this flamboyantly colored mech.

Firstly, a warning for the uninitiated. I'll be discussing the Gaza-C, and by extension, Axis Zeon; Both of these are elements that appear in the later half of Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam and are prominently featured throughout the entirety of ZZ Gundam. Expect spoilers for both! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

How Did We Get Here?

Before the Gaza-C can be properly savored, I believe a spoonful of context and a dash of history are needed to bring out the best qualities of this particular mobile suit.

After the One Year War depicted in the original Mobile Suit Gundam, The Principality of Zeon was completely and utterly broken. Those that remained came together on a small mining base called Axis and declared it their new home, but it was a mere shadow of what used to be. Axis Zeon would struggle to have resources and even survive properly, and those who lived there were in constant fear that the Earth Federation would one day wipe them off the map. While they were able to keep functioning and even replicate a life similar to the Earth Colonies, they would only have a fraction of the military power and technology that Zeon once did.

Haman Karn is a woman that would have grown up under this threat, and the struggle to survive mixed with paranoia and abandonment from characters like Char Aznable would lead her to becoming the radicalized tyrant set on wrenching every shred of power she can out of Axis in order to assert her Zeonic beliefs and prove her strength.

She's killed a lot of people, but she was slaying while she did it.

A Ghost of Zeon's Lingering Past

When Char departs from the Argama and meets her for the first time in years he refers to Haman as, "The Ghost of Zeon." Much to Char's horror, it's revealed that she's been protecting and raising Mineva Zabi; A young woman that is said to be the last carrier of Zeon's royal blood. Unfortunately this tutelage also meant she was taught much of the regal and selfish beliefs of the old Zabi family; The same people that were responsible for the corruption of Zeon.

I quite like the title of Ghost, because it implies this sort of belief of something that should be gone but still clings to the world. The terrible ideology of the Zabi family is something Haman clings to and wants to force on others, and this ideology encourages her to see people as nothing but tools and actors for her own personal goals. With Haman and the context of Axis Zeon in mind, we can finally get to the Gaza-C proper; A suit that manages to symbolically represent these different aspects of the faction.

The Zabi family are low-key boomers, for real-for real.

It All Culminates In The Gaza-C

Many of the mobile suits used before this point typically have a humanoid design, especially the other mass produced suits like Zeon's Zaku and The Earth Federation's GM units from the original series. Those specific suits call back to soldiers from historic wars, and fit in perfectly as a depiction of this new type of warfare.

Axis Zeon's Gaza-C units don't share this trait despite having a similar purpose. A rifle juts out from the torso of the suit, with thick tubes connecting it to the main body. The "head" (if that's even a good word for it) is fitted with a singular eye that's reminiscent of a scope. The Gaza may have arms and legs like the other suits, but the structure of feet, head, chest, and the various exposed tubes seen throughout the suit give it a much more inhuman vibe than other suits seen up until this point. If anything, the Gaza-C feel like they're on life support. The mix of purples and pinks brings to mind organs and body parts, with the various tubes keeping the struggling things alive. Struggling would be a key word, as these suits are made from salvaged parts and quickly mass produced.

One of these things is not like the others...

Every mobile suit in the series is a weapon for war and destruction, but the inhuman Gaza units feel much more distinctly like weapons. The alt modes the units can change to support this further: A bipedal turret, and a more compact flight mode. Featured prominently in every mode is a very distinct rifle that is permanently attached to the suit. Taken together, it delivers a clear message; These suits exist exclusively to be used as a weapon without any form of humanity.

Our first encounter with these suits definitely displays this feature, where they're seen showering a Titan mobile suit with a rain of beam rifle shots. While the initial scene shows an impressive number of Gaza units to begin with, a quick pan out shows that the Argama is surrounded by them. Like flies, they jet around and peer into the glass of the vessel, making sure that the crew is fully aware of their presence.

The initial scene depicting them is off putting, and it definitely gives this feeling that Axis Zeon should be feared. But, I used the word flies for a reason. Much like those insects, the Gaza-C are rarely shown to be worth concern even in high numbers. Their introduction depicted a team of them taking shots at an enemy mobile suit, but the damage seemed negligible. While the suit did flee due to orders, it was less out of concern for their safety and more of a strategic decision.

I, personally, would be a little more concerned if a large mech stared at my viewport.

Even with that kind of pathetic opening display aside, the suits are commonly shot down without much trouble as well. While there certainly are a large number of them, the actual threat they pose seems minimal...and it definitely seems like the Argama crew feel the same way. Comparing them to what the AEUG's Argama carrier or Titan vessels have at their disposal feels sadistic, since suits like the Zeta Gundam (and ZZ Gundam later on) or The O are practically walking fortresses that are more then capable of wiping out a Gaza fleet on their own.

Ultimately, I think the Gaza-C are mass produced, barely cobbled together units produced en masse purely to give the façade of power; Something that would make sense for Axis Zeon current situation. Haman Karn would want to be taken seriously as a threat, and meeting her competition with a full army of suits definitely leaves a strong impression.

Fragile Beliefs and Even Weaker Armor

Turning things into an army of emotionless, disposable, weapons wouldn't be something Haman is a stranger to either. During the events of ZZ Gundam, the Neo Zeon forces led by Haman are filled out with an assortment of lighthearted characters with quirks and personality. However, many of these characters end up being reprogrammed as Cyber New types and lose bits of themselves in the process; They become less human for the sake of acting like a better weapon for Haman's personal use.

Not only did they rob his personality, but his drip too.

Despite how devoted to Zeonic ideals Haman and members of Axis and Neo Zeon might seem, I believe this devotion is extremely flimsy. Many high ranking members of Neo Zeon seem far more interested in appealing to Haman herself as opposed to any pride or devotion for their faction. The Princess that is meant to be the lynchpin of their whole faction is revealed to have disappeared before the events of ZZ Gundam, and...no one actually seems to mind this that much. Haman herself doesn't seem to want to restore the Zabi family to power either and even seems to be convinced that she was wrong for even trying; This leads to her taking her life during the finale of ZZ Gundam. These fragile beliefs seem to be perfectly represented by the fragile Gaza-C, which is completely eliminated by single blasts from the Zeta and ZZ Gundam suits.

Shockingly, this is one of the least gruesome Gaza trashings.

That's not to say there are no Zeon loyalists, as Glemy Toto was extremely devoted to the point of being sick of Haman Karn and staging a coup. However, most of Neo Zeon comes off as a group of quirky individuals simping for an unhinged woman with abandonment issues.

Justifying Atrocity

With all these things in mind, I feel like Haman Karn wanted to give off the illusion of strength so she could gain power for herself, and used Axis Zeon as a way to do it. The fleet of Gaza-C units and the Axis warship would definitely give an impression of strength, but the impression is all it is. Neither the AEUG or Titans seem to have any proper estimate of the groups military strength, with the Titans instead using the possible threat of a Zeon revolt as justification for their fascist policies. Besides Haman's own personal Quebley unit, the Gaza-C is all they have and it doesn't pose any major threat; Definitely not enough to justify the Titan's attempts to control Earth and Space.

These dorks are what the average queer friend group looks like.

I think that's the perfect explanation of Axis Zeon as a whole, much like the Gaza-C they both look scary and can be used to strike fear, but both are fragile things that can be easily dismissed when the curtain is pulled back. The threat of an "Axis uprising" or "Zeon Revolution" was used primarily as an excuse for the Titans to force more control over colonies.

Even in the events of ZZ Gundam where a power vacuum allowed Axis Zeon to advance and gain more military strength, The newly renamed Neo Zeon was ultimately stopped by...children. They might have been extremely weird children, but the only real strength Neo Zeon had came from aligning themselves with other groups and taking advantage of the Earth Federation's negligence.

This small child fought the CEO of war crimes and WON.

To wrap everything together, I believe that Axis and Zeon is merely an illusory symbol of hate and regressive ideas that was used by the Titans and Haman to gain their own power. While Haman and Axis/Neo Zeon definitely existed, the actual threat they posed both ideologically and through sheer military strength was horribly diminished and downright miniscule compared to the might of the Titans or even the AEUG. The Gaza-C units are a perfect example of this; though their sheer numbers and design can appear threatening, in reality they're all barely finished suits crafted from salvaged parts that can't withstand any sort of real fight. If Haman Karn is the Ghost of Zeon, the Gaza-C are the corpse, dragged out as a display of power in hopes to hide the decaying state of the faction they represent.

The little asteroid Axis that could...(it actually failed.)

Bonus Section: Woah! Cool Robot!

Story relevance aside, I do genuinely adore the sheer aesthetic and want to rave about the Gaza-C model kit. The starkly distinct pink and deep purples mixed with the emerald eyes and windows give it a very unique look compared to other kits, and the asymmetry present in the design not only gives the kit a unique look, but keeps the actual building process interesting throughout.

My first foray into mech enjoyment came with transformers, so having a kit that transforms into several modes brought me a large dose of euphoria. The kit even came with a flight stand so the other modes could properly posed and displayed.

Taken together, it's a very unique kit with a lot of really cool features and I've absolutely adored my time with it. Although the actual build and lining process was a lot more involved then I would have expected, it does make the thought of making a small army of them feel less enjoyable tenable.

The Gaza-C and Quebley are besties ^.^

I'm a little quirky so transforming suits like these make me happy. (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）

Panel lining these tubes was a nightmare and one of the reasons I'm discouraged from building a whole army (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Conclusion

The Gundam franchise as a whole sports a bevy of interesting mech designs, but the Gaza-C really stuck out to me as a very minor detail that ended up giving a lot of insight into the story and characters. This was definitely a lot to go over so I hope anyone that read this far enjoyed and can possibly also share my appreciation for this suit! This was my first time writing anything of this nature (and first time writing at all in years) so if there's any feedback please let me know!

Unlike Haman, I won't react badly to criticism (Probably)

I don't actually have a caption for this, I just wanted to share more ZZ please watch it. I promise it gets better, the early episodes have some whiplash coming off of Zeta but I think the series actually works really well as a more light hearted Gundam experience with a cast of loveable charac-

#gundam #zeta gundam #zz gundam #haman karn #principality of zeon #neo zeon #mobile suit gundam #gunpla #gundam 0079 #zaku ii #char azn #mecha anime #model kit

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annoyinglandmagazine · 2 years ago

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Female Curufin one shot

Atarinkë. Curufinwe. Her father’s daughter. Always her father. She loosened the knot she’d tied her hair in and watched as it slipped down. Her hair framed her face but the straight black strands only served to emphasise the sharpness of her features making her look even more like a prince. Her face was harsh and angular and already lacked the softness it should have had.

People were happy to make the comparison to her father even Finwe, but they could never find one to make with her mother or Miriel. Certainly never any of her sisters, though any such comparison was bound to be negative anyway if it strayed from smithing. It was like she wasn’t a girl at all, only a carbon copy of him.

She struggled with the lacing of the dress she’d been trying on and pulled it off with some difficulty. It clung slightly too snug at the arms and shoulders, broad and strong from working in the forge, and it was visible. Dressed like a Noldorin princess in soft, draping fabrics she had never seemed more out of place. She looked like a boy playing dress up in his mother’s clothes. It was made greatly worse by the fact that the dress had belonged to Kano when she had been a great deal younger than Curufin was currently.

She pulled on a familiar black smock as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. ‘Curvo? Are you ok?’ Into her room came the soft and reassuring voice of precisely the person Curufin least wanted to see right now. Nelya hesitated at the slightly ajar door for a moment before walking slowly to where Curvo was leaning against the bed with her knees hugged to her chest. She gave Curufin ample time to tell her to fuck off, as they had all been wont to do with regularity at certain points in their lives, but when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything Nelya lowered herself next to her on the floor.

‘I’m not crying.’ The words were muffled by the fact her face was still pressed into her knees and the effort put into not sobbing in front of her sister. ‘Of course not. There’s nothing wrong with crying though. We all cry sometimes.’ Curufin raised her head slightly, refusing to meet her sister’s eyes, instead shifting over to rest her head on Nelya’s lap. Maedhros tried to hide her shock at such a display of vulnerability from Curvo of all people. She began stroking Curvo’s hair back from her eyes, in the universal gesture of affection she used for all her sisters in a variety of different scenarios. Curufin had rarely sought it out though, and the way she was leaning into it was concerning for her.

‘I’m trying to find something to wear for the banquet this weekend. I tried to borrow something from Kano and it didn’t fit right.’ Maedhros frowned to herself, unsure what exactly was actually going on here. ‘Well you can always borrow something from someone else if you don’t have time to go to a seamstress. I know it was very short notice, we thought it was going to be a month from now. Tyelko’s old ones are probably all hopelessly destroyed but I’m sure Moryo could find you something. I’d offer myself, but- well, I had to get all of them specially made to previously unheard of lengths,’ she said with a self conscious smile.

Curufin supposed Nelya wasn’t the worst person to talk to about this after all. She remembered how awkward her sister had been in those years where everything she wore was too short in the space of a week, tripping over herself and towering over everyone else, a mess of joints. But despite everything Nelya had always been beautiful. No one had ever disputed that. And then one year of Curvo’s childhood she’d become perfect. No one could find any fault with her, her height was regal and every part of her was exactly the size people thought it should be, sculpted to perfection. Her mother name had been remarkably well chosen and few looked elsewhere when she was in a room. It was easy to forget it was not always so.

‘Moryo’s wouldn’t fit either’ she said quietly. ‘Not quite. I don’t look like a nis when I wear dresses. None of them fit right.’ And there it was. When nér looked for partners to dance with they always picked her sisters, cousins or even just some merchant’s daughter. She could have been in conversation with them recently, right in front of them, they could have even been friends, but when it came to nis no one ever thought of her. The thought had never crossed anyone’s mind. They talked to her like they talked to her father, only ever work or politics, like there was nothing else.

Nelya sighed in empathy with her sister. The court was certainly not a kind place for young women to come into themselves in, and it had been challenging for all of them at times. There was always some fault with them that would certainly be pointed out, and even if deemed attractive like Maedhros herself had been they were left with a whole new set of expectations. For when a woman was beautiful that was all she was expected or permitted to be and if one was not she was scarcely viewed as a woman at all.

‘We could ask Moryo to alter something to fit you better?’ Curvo felt increasingly uncomfortable at how close this was coming to outright discussing her body with her sister, something she had no desire to ever do. On the other hand, Carnistir was incredibly unlikely to try and initiate a conversation about something like this with her due to a deep lack of interest in her sisters’ lives. She nodded slowly and Nelya helped her up.

Carnistir had seemed quietly enthusiastic about her skills being useful and, as predicted, set to work with no prying. The measurements had been the part Curufin was dreading the most but her sister had been focused on doing the calculations in her head and had seemed so removed from the fact it was Curvo’s body that she hadn’t felt like she was being evaluated at all.

The next day she’d been presented with a deep red, masterfully cut gown. She pulled it over her and fastened the ties as Carnistir clapped in pleasure at her own work. It hugged her figure perfectly and flared out in all the right places creating a pretty, girlish looking silhouette. A thought seemed to occur to Moryo because she pulled Curufin to her dressing table and began to weave her long dark hair into an elaborate braid crown, but with more left down than she herself normally wore. Nelya contributed a ruby encrusted tiara she’d been given for her begetting day several years ago. ‘Perfect.’

#Silmarillion #tolkien #maedhros #caranthir #female curufin #genderbending #curufin #daughters of Feanor #Female maedhros #Female caranthir

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fidius · 1 year ago

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OK, I get that us child-having folk are kind of boring and it often seems like we have kind of checked out of friendships and the parts of society that don't overlap with parenting in Venn diagrams. That's true, those are true things I will not dispute. And I remember being distraught? disappointed? dismayed? dis-something anyway when friends did the whole marriage-and-kids thing, which usually felt like them moving away or dying-lite or something. Which, again, kind of valid? People ask me if I want to go out somewhere and (unless it's their band or art show or something) I say no I've got to read my kids' bedtime stories. I used to be available for shenanigans and now I am not, and 70% of that is having kids. Single and/or childless friends I understand your annoyance verging into existential despair. It sucks, as we all know, that we don't live in a more villagey situation where everyone is less isolated and hanging out is easier and we aren't all working far too many of our conscious hours.

But.

I love my kids so much. An indescribable love that I have so rarely seen addressed in media that I don't think you are likely to understand it without having experienced it. I often--daily, usually multiple times--just sit and think about my kids and what they do and how they are and I am satisfied by their mere existence as beings on a deep level beyond anything I've known before. This is true even when I am extremely annoyed at them, or worried about their health, or in any of the other exciting unpleasant mental states that parenthood breeds. There is something wonderful and awesome (original meaninga, full of wonder, a condition of considerable awe), I think, in ever really and truly getting to know another human (probably that's love yeah?) but when it's the child you're watching grow up and guiding in your modest way it's beyond. It's self-sufficient, nearly. The nuclear family is shit for society but it does feel like so much on its own that I do get where the positive parts of its power come from.

If you've had a pet, especially a pet you've come to know slowly--a young one you raised or a rescue you won over--and you've felt that feeling of "this is all great but I'd rather be at home with my cat" or that sublime right-place-in-the-world on an ordinary walk with your dog, then you have brushed at the feeling I am trying to get at here. I'm trying to do really honest, no-bullshit estimates here, based on the cats I used to think about at work and just tear up with how much I loved them, and I'd say that was like 1/85 or 1/90 of the feeling of having a kid? But with this not-insignificant dash of, I don't know, mortality? gibbering anxiety at the simultaneous vastness and narrowness of human experience? It's fucked up, the whole experience, and it does things to your brain that will never make sense or calm down as far as I can tell and still seem somehow correct.

(I don't want to imply that you somehow have to be genetically involved in the production of the children to experience these feelings, or even be their primary caregiver--interacting with children at all you've probably experienced some of this on a species/tribal level that may have delighted or unsettled or delighted and unsettled you--but the strength of the emotion does have a lot to do with the responsibility, I think.)

#all of which is arguably why everyone should be a little bit responsible for all of the children around them #if everyone lived in a huge family-ish arrangement and occasionally looked after whatever kids were around #maybe fewer of them would be greedy assholes divorced from their own humanity #(humanity as a concept is not dependent on kids and you do not in any way need to interact with kids to be a 100% member of humanity #but there is something about participating on any level in the continuation of the species and the culture that inculcates a sense of duty)

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atzidraws · 2 years ago

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Omegaverse: Omega riddle x Alpha Trey Oneshot

Just a quick oneshot that kinda came up. I couldn't focus on homework since this idea was just tugging at my brain. I might update this with better writing because I'll admit: this was kinda rushed.

I hope you guys somewhat enjoy ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When riddle was younger, he was conditioned to act as an alpha since his mother came from a line of alphas and didn't want the world to know that she had a son who was an omega. So in order hide this from the public Riddle was forced to take pills to suppress his heat or avoid having any contact with people when the month came.

So when riddle was accept to NRC, his mother gave him a stern warning:

"You can't let anyone know about this riddle, understand? I'm doing this for your sake and your future. But I must say, I am very proud of you."

When he got to NRC, Riddle made it his mission to hide every single trace of being an omega. He couldn't let anyone know, after all, that's what his mother had told him before leaving. This especially held true when he became the housewarden. Now that he was in top position, he definitely can't let anyone know as it could cause some unwanted attention and controversy.

One day riddle didn't show up to classes, to the surprise of heartslabyul as he's never skipped or missed a day. Trey offered to go an check as he just assumed that riddle may have caught something and is just resting in his room. When he got there, Trey suddenly had a awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why but it ushered him to hurry. Eventually, he got to riddle's room. Not wanting to be rude he first knocked. No response.

Trey, thinking riddle was asleep, opened the door only to find the room a scattered mess. Books and papers were all over the floor and some pills of different colors were scattered about. And there, in the corner of the room was a shaking, sobbing riddle curled up and sitting on the floor. Trey ran to him out of concern but as he was about to place his hand on his shoulder, riddle looked up in horror and in a swift motion, he slapped his hand away.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" He yelled as he back himself further into the room. He looked like a frightened animal. To minimize the tension he bent down to riddle's level.

"Riddle calm down, breathe. I'm not going to hurt you." Trey said softly, not wanting to further worsen the situation.

"TREY.... Please... Just leave." The red haired boy cried. Riddle felt defenseless as his mind was overwhelmed with both fear and dread. His body was frozen in place.

Clover could smell a sweet, intoxicating scent coming from riddle. Then... It hit him.

"Riddle...are you in heat?"

Riddle felt like his world had just crumbled as Trey spoke those words. all his efforts to hide his true identity has disappeared before him, he was now an open book. Riddle wanted to dispute against him but there was no use.

The only thing he could do is cry. He wanted hide somewhere.

Somewhere no would would find him.

Suddenly, riddle felt arms wrap around him. Embracing the sudden hug, he buried his face in trey's chest. Sobbing until his voice was just whimpers. Trey picked his rose king up and slowly closed the door that was behind him. He made sure to lock it so no one would be able to enter. He was glad no one was in the dorm.

He walked to riddle's bed and sat him there. Wiping the tears from riddle's eyes.

"Tell me... What happened?" He asked as he crouched.

Riddle looked away from trey's gaze and looked down. He sniffled and took a shakey breathe.

"While I was getting ready for class, I suddenly felt... It. I didn't think much of it so I went ahead and took... Heat suppressants but...."

Riddle's eyes suddenly teared up "they stopped working... I brought extras in case because I had a feeling that one day, the one I was using would no longer work. But... None of them did."

Trey got up and hugged riddle once more. Petting the back of his head gently, trying to soothe him. Riddle's breathing slowly began to slow down.

"Why we're you trying to hide it?" He asked. After all, he always thought riddle was an alpha so this sudden revelation was knew to him.

Riddle opened his mouth with hesitation. He then uttered out:

"I didn't want to be a disappointment to my mother. She... "

Trey knew the words he was about to say:

"She just wanted what was best for me."

Trey sighed and then placed riddle back on the bed.

"I'll go make you a strawberry tart and some tea, alright? Once it's done we can go to the garden. I'll make sure no one is there and it can be just us. Since your scent is strong, I don't want anything bad happening to you."

Riddle nodded and smiled softly.

"Trey... Thank you."

Trey gave riddle a small peck on the cheek and left the room. Once he was gone, Riddle laid in his bed blushing slightly at the sudden kiss. His heart was pounding and a slight warm feeling engulfed him.

Riddle soon fell asleep as the exhaustion from crying finally settled in. A soft smile formed on his face.

#omegaverse #fanfic #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #disney twst #twst riddle #riddle x trey #trey x riddle #god i love these two #crying right now #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #fluff #i cant write #man i love this ship #i love this ship sm #comfort fic #twst fandorm #twst fanfic

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nebulouscoffee · 2 years ago

Note

For the character ask game: Hoshi Sato, Seven of Nine, and Wesley Crusher!

Hahaha thanks for being my no.1 enabler as usual and sending me such a great triple ask! Prepare for Essay <3

Hoshi

one aspect about them i love

Her whole multilingual thing and having to figure it all out without the Universal Translator was so, so cool to me. Honestly, when I think back to what worked from Enterprise's whole "early days" pitch, it's the first thing that comes to mind. And gosh her backstory with the isolation she felt as a gifted child who spent most of her time in classes... all those languages, and no one to speak to. Really makes her presence on Earth's first deep space mission Hit Different!

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

Well, that she's actually quite a three-dimensional character! Yes, they often didn't know what to do with her and her screentime got reduced later on, but she's more than just the "naive young ensign" archetype- in fact, one of my favourite things about her is how uniquely real she feels (that scene where she had to settle a dispute with some aliens they'd accidentally pissed off and she didn't even speak their language and was straight up on the verge of tears while talking to them, but then gradually gained confidence? That sort of stuff with her was so good!)

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

Personally I will never be over the fact that in like season FOUR or something they just randomly dropped that she was originally discharged from Starfleet (!!) for getting into a fight (!!!?) over an illegal poker game she was running (iirc??) and breaking her commanding officer's arm (??!?) because apparently she has a black belt in Aikido (!!??!) Good lord, how many other secret skills does she have then? She's literally a prodigy who grew up with no friends I bet there's dozens lmaooo I bet she can pick locks and yodel and swing from a trapeze

one character i love seeing them interact with

She and Phlox have a sweet dynamic- you get the sense that her curiosity and open-mindedness and friendliness really make him feel more at home, as one of the only aliens on the ship

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

T'Pol!! T'Pol, T'Pol- the show gave them little to no scenes together, but it really could've been something so interesting, especially in the context of cultural exchange and nonwestern frameworks. And yes, they make for a wonderful ship too- but judging by the state of our dms lately I certainly don't need to tell you that😂

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

She and Phlox have a whole mini zoo of secret and illegal pets.

Seven

one aspect about them i love

The entire premise of her character is fantastic imo, and Jeri Ryan is terrific in the role. Her quest to discover personhood as an adult while also reckoning with all the violence she inflicted on such a mass scale (which itself was a result of horrifying violations of her own body and mind that she can barely remember) while also trying to reconcile the grief of all those lost years... wow

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

... I mean, I wish the showrunners had understood that Seven works best as part of an ensemble, and "ensemble" means occasionally giving the others something to do?😂😂 And that the whole deal with her biosuit and conventionally feminine hotness just didn't match the character; she should've been allowed to look and act WAY more weird and off-putting I think

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

Ignoring ST: Picard canon (which I always do), I think after Voyager returns to the AQ, Seven would dig deeper into the concept and pursuit of "perfection"- the show painted it as a quasi-religious thing for her, and then never brought it up again! I think now, abruptly ripped from her home and family and confronted with a big scary quadrant to explore, she'd try on spirituality, at least for a little bit- try to reconcile it with her very scientific algorithms of thought, if only so for a brief while she can make the universe make sense

one character i love seeing them interact with

Many answers (Janeway, Tuvok, etc) but I'm going to highlight one I actually didn't notice much on first watch- she and Neelix have kind of an interesting dynamic! They have more scenes together than I remembered, and they give each other some really good advice

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

B'Elanna. Their supposed "rivalry" never really made sense to me lol, they could've come up with a legitimately interesting conflict between them, or just made them friends- as is, it just sort of comes off like they're fighting because... women be like that, I suppose? Lol, don't get me wrong- some of their scenes together are great ("We difficult patients need to stick together") but I wish we'd gotten more

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

She and Tuvok sometimes hang out in the mess hall at night, when the whole ship is dark, and quiet, and they can just stare at the stars, help alleviate each others' loneliness, while also giving each other a break from the exhausting ordeal of conventional socialising. Four hours in and not a single word spoken😌

Wesley

one aspect about them i love

Apart from being generally very sweet and helpful, Wes (and Alexander too) is what makes the crew feel like a family to me- like, this kid just has so many sets of parents! (Bev & Picard are his Parents parents, Data & Geordi are his work parents, Riker & Guinan are his weird parents, Deanna & Tasha are his fun parents, and Worf is... ok Worf can just be Worf lol the poor man has more than enough on his plate already)

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

That he's literally just a child, I suppose. Like- he's fourteen, of course he does and says stupid things on occasion! It generally doesn't bother me when people dislike characters I like but a lot of the Wesley hate I've seen across platforms feels distinctly anti-children in a weirdly malicious way

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

Starfleet Academy must've been a WILD transition for him, I mean sure it's a high-pressure environment and very competitive and everything- but he was on the literal bridge of the flagship of the Federation! All his bffs were highly intelligent and competent (sometimes superhumanly so) adults at the tops of their fields. How much experience does he even have socialising with kids his age? Does he ever feel like he just can't relate to any of them? Probably??

one character i love seeing them interact with

Ooh lots of answers here; I do think he brings out the best in Picard, and I love his dynamic with several others too- but I'm gonna go with Geordi. I know I called him one of Wesley's parents earlier but that was just a joke lol, truthfully Geordi has this extremely chill and almost like brotherly friendship with him, and he always respects Wesley's opinions and hears him out and never really condescends to him and I just think it's neat!

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

Lmao, Beverly. It's really weird how little the show seems to care about their relationship! I mean they obviously do have a positive one, and Bev is very loving and protective of him, but they don't actually share all that much screentime per se. So that means I have to headcanon slightly less positive things, like-

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

what if Beverly's absence during such a crucial year in his life (S2) sort of left a gap in their relationship they never quite managed to patch up? No resentment exactly, just... less connection than before. She's still very important to him of course, but not the first person he'd go to with good news. (I don't mean this in a negative way towards Beverly btw! I actually do like that the show wanted to give her more storylines beyond just being Wesley's Mum)

#whew that was a LOT hehe #but thanks for indulging my rambly inclinations!! not quite sure if I pulled you into T'P/oshi hell or you me but I'm glad we're here :)#also who knew that all my wesley headcanons were so depressing?? not me lmao #(also very much refrained from making a 'Worf is a bad dad' joke on purpose because I actually don't think he is on TNG)#ask game

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quek-a-sketch · 2 years ago

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Sun Champion Chip AU

Aka the lost champion

So! This au is exactly what the title is, Chip is the chosen one of the Sun Goddess! I made this au before watching the Fey Arc so I was so happy when the flame tattoos and powers became canon /lh

... except neither he nor do most of the world know it. Not until he steps Into the sun temple in Liquidus and bursts into flame.

At first he screams, he should have known he'd burst into flames, he's committed many sins as far back as he can remember there was no way he could confess them ALL.

Then he notices that it doesn't burn.

He can't feel it, despite being engulfed in flames, but instead of blistering hot unbearable pain that should come from it... He just feels warm, on the inside kind of a feeling of being home or a tight embrace.

He's still freaking out, which is pretty understandable considering he is on fire.

The room is boiling hot and Jay nor Gil can see Chip, at least not properly, he's hazy like when you try to look at something far away on a blistering hot day but the very heat beating down makes it appear fuzzy and like a mirage.

Gil, being robbed of any moisture in the air or his skin for that matter, collapses. Jay holds him up, putting his arm over her shoulders as she slowly, carefully... achingly makes her way over to the still panicking Chip

That's when she sees he's not.. he's not just on fire. No it's like- his hair the edges of it are flame and his eyes... His eyes are glowing this intense yellow-white and his scars glow golden and those cracks of gold seem to expand around his body. His tattoos aswell, she couldn't see the blue of the water anymore, instead flames curled where water once flowed, for a moment she couldn't tell if they were real flames or just the tattoo changing.

Steam came off his skin, his tears of panic evaporated immediately off his skin that was almost... Glowing with divine heat. Jay still reached out a hand and grabbed chips shoulder, wincing at the burn she already felt forming, she shook him back out of his panic.

His eyes cleared of the yellow- white crackling light right as Jay collapsed from the heat of the room.

Safe to say there's a lot to be explained, and a few elders come to the temple that day to meet Chip, and tell him about his lost prophecy.

Ill make a whole post on it later but! Chips prophecy was an extension to Gillion's original one. A retelling of the story where instead of a chosen one who is strong and can slay evil and who will chose between the two sisters creations-

Chips prophecy is about forgiveness, in a way. He is the olive branch from the Sun Goddess to both apologise and settle their dispute, his whole point is to be flawed and to meet the original chosen ones and befriend them.

To show that both the land and sea are necessary to the world and both creations are precious, he is meant to represent the sisters reuniting... Now obviously that goes against the wants of a Lot of people, mainly those higher up or stuck in the old way. I mean the champion (gillion) was born already why replace one prophecy with another? Why give up an excuse to ostracize and distance each other even more.

So, when chip was born on a small island with some elders or higher ups of the sun temple present and his parents, who knew their child would be the chosen one, the island was raided by a mix of both sun and moon goddess devotees who believed this newer prophecy to be false, or more accurately a threat to their livelihoods.

No one was spared in the slaughter, but he wouldn't be the chosen one without some divine intervention now would he?

A trades boat that usually comes to the island once a week comes the day after the slaughter, horrified he orders his crew to look for any survivor or to find out who or why the island was attacked. He heads toward the crumbling temple, it's in complete ruins. As soon as he enters he hears a baby crying, and finds Chip lying in a closed drawer wrapped in blankets, god he was barely a month old-

Trying to soothe the screaming baby the tradesman tried thinking up a name to call him. Spotting the remnants of, what he didn't know was a mural of Chips prophecy, he saw letters sewn about the floor in the ruins.

C-H-I-P

Well fuck it it'll be a good a name as any!

He takes Chip aboard and drops him off at an orphanage before being on his way.

The few who knew about the new champion had died on that island, or believed the newborn to have died on the island along with everyone else. No one expected the skinny, frail looking street kid who would later beg to be let onto a ship with the Black Rose Pirates, was the missing chosen one. The one who was born on land and loves the sea-

The one who pulls the moon Goddess' champion out of the ocean with a grin.

Chip

(CHAMPION)

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Sorry if this au seems really dumb! I still really love it though so feel free to drop me an ask about it!

#Sun Champion Chip #jrwi #jrwi au #chip jrwi

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xhatake · 2 years ago

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Hey...Xan, get those grubby fly hands ready because I need to know about Kakashi's thought process/his feelings about Naruto from when Naruto essentially brought him back to life, to Kakashi literally thinking "I need to go find him and bring him back here." I need to know his thought process in that, and also if anybody tried to prevent him from doing so.

When Kakashi wakes up, the light is blinding. The last thing he remembers is darkness, the embrace of a gentle fire, a final goodbye. He didn't understand all of it, but it could wait. His pounding head is full of a thousand thoughts & only one of them makes sense. ( Where is Naruto? ) Pain was looking for naruto. They had all acted to protect Naruto. He was the future of this village; there were none few left that disputed the fact. It was why everyone had for fiercely fought for him, his ideals, his legacy. As Kakashi's eye adjusts to the overwhelming realm of life, he sees others pushing themselves off of rough pavement, greeted tearfully by their loved ones.

The only way this was possible was if Pain had encountered Naruto. ( He must have come back, of course he would. ) This could mean a number of things, but the walking dead indicated that all of them were good. He sits up faster than his aching bones were prepared to, there is a series of pops as he forces his stiff, cold body to move again. It felt strangely unnatural, but it wasn't something he had time to consider right now. He was not the only one to be dragged from the liminal space between death & life, there were bodies clawing from the rubble around him in all directions.

Kakashi's heart begins to beat uncomfortably fast as he catches Choji by the arm. Through tears, Choji says that naruto went after pain. Alone. That he had faced the leader of the Akatsuki with an inconceivable power of his own, nearly defeating him on the battlefield. ( The Rasenshuriken? No, more than that. Incredible. ) They must have finished this. Kakashi is not sure how Naruto had managed it, but the dead were rising all around him.

He forces himself to his feet & the world feels as though it's on it's side. His stomach turns with uneasiness & he has to steady himself on the debris of what had once been a building. He waves off an emotional Choji as he goes to support him. The sky begins to spin, he forces it still & steadies himself as he tries to make sense of it all... but if he was alive, that means Pain couldn't have gotten what he wanted. ( Maybe he got what he needed...? ) Through the turbulence in his mind, he could not deny the way pride surged in his chest. It reminded him to breathe, to think.

Naruto, where was Naruto? If he had saved them, he had to be close. Kakashi extends the few wisps of energy he could squeeze from his body to search for Naruto's chakra. It was a distinct & familiar feeling, not unlike the campfire he had left behind in limbo.

He's sure the only reason he's able to force himself is because of the swell of fulfillment & concern he felt for the boy. it was awe-inspiring, to think that he had accomplished this much. That he had made it possible for Konoha to heal from this devastation. He gave them back their heart; the people they fought to protect... Someway, somehow naruto had brought them back. There were many familiar bursts of chakra as he searched for his student, though he was not in the village... as was to be expected. He extends his sensory ability to it's limits, locating the boy outside of their gates.

Kakashi sets out from the village before he is able to talk to anyone else. But a few sets of eyes catch a glimpse of his silver hair, they call out to him in the occasional greeting. The affirmation of life, the excitement that they had survived. Kakashi pays them less attention than he wishes, his exhausted mind set on something more important. Kakashi is fast. Determined. With each step, he feels an ache in his chest. During his fight, he had been run through with a blade & though the wound had been forced shut, he still felt a telltale burst of pain with every step, every breath. That, however, was not his priority. If he were to stop, his bones would surely be too heavy to start again.

He couldn't think about each passing step. But there were some things Kakashi could not ignore. There was a trail of devastation in the wake of where he thought naruto must have faced Pain. the landscape was devastated, Kakashi could hardly imagine what had happened to make it so. There was still the faint evil of Kurama in the air; it made him feel strange.

This had been no ordinary fight, he had known that before setting out.... but seeing the destruction before his eyes, feeling the air still thick with incomprehensible rage. it was enough to make the hairs on his arm stand on end. But it told a different story; if naruto had succeeded, he had overcome even the Kyuubi. He would think it was impossible, but hadn't naruto eradicated the meaning of the word?

Kakashi draws closer. He resists the urge to call out for Naruto, to let him know that he was coming for him. His pace quickens, though he couldn't explain how. Kakashi arrives just in time to see Naruto's body buckle underneath the weight of exhaustion. The scent of battle still clings to his form which is now much larger than Kakashi's. He thinks back, briefly, to when he was a child. Naruto was much lighter, then... But now naruto was much taller than him. He ate a little better now, took better care of his body. It was difficult not to be sentimental.

" Good job. " He's smiling, though Naruto cannot see it. He's not sure his own body can hold all of the pride growing in his chest, but he'll make sure it will take him home. His grip on his student tightens... There might be a tear in the corner of his eye, " Hold on. "

#ournindos #ournindos; naruto #you're a genius and i am crying #but overall he is more proud than he will ever be able to express #theres a satisfaction in seeing naruto reach a part of his potential #to see him surpass everyone when that has always been his goal #naruto has pushed through it all to get there & kept his head up #& his eyes to the future #even when the present was too much to bear #also the fact that naruto literally brought him back to life???#tho he hasnt entirely processed his feelings on the subject he will talk to naruto about it in the future #naruto may even be the only one he shares his experience of being dead with #and he would thank naruto of course but he would have a hard time #but thanks to naruto he got to live with the closure he experienced saying goodbye to sakumo #he can live on with his memory knowing that his father knows it's okay #that they are okay #& one day they will meet again & it will be beautiful #i will cry or stab u #choose

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