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crossfandomslut · 4 months

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At Peace in Your Fire (pt2)

Summary: Y/n goes into the the Cauldron, and ends up in Velaris. A strange place with a sentient house and hopefully some new friends. Y/n much navigate what being fae means for her now.

Pairing: Future Eris x Reader ! Eris is in this chapter y'all! It's not much haha I'm dragging it out !

Word Count: 4,900

Notes: I'm so glad people liked the first chapter and I hope you stick with me to see where this story goes ! I wanted to get to know the reader a bit more, and have interactions with the other characters to add depth to the story and who the reader is so that she's not just some rando haha Please comment your thoughts and opinions, I love hearing what you liked about it so I can try to make each chapter better than the last ! Hugs <3

Find part 1 here

Her life flashed before her eyes as the Cauldron scanned through her every memory, as if in search of an answer, but she didn’t know what the question was. All she felt was cold. As the Cauldron raked through images of their mother and her neglect as Feyre and Y/n did whatever they could to get her attention. Even if she was yelling at them, it was better than being ignored. It took Y/n a long time to realize that Nesta wasn’t ‘lucky’ for having all their mothers’ attention. The cold continued to settle into her bones as she watched her mother get sick and their father fall deep into depression after losing his fortune. Flashes of what she had to do with the baker’s son to feed the family some weeks, of Feyre being taken away by Tamlin, of Nesta looking so hopeless as they searched for their sister, and finally of tonight, being taken from their home in the night, the pain of her sister’s faces and the fear that shot through her as her toes touched the Cauldron’s edge. Deeper and deeper the water soaked through her too thin nightgown, into her skin, and settled in her bones. the water the warm when she first touched it, but as she felt herself drift further toward the bottom, an icy cold took over her senses.

At last, a flicker of warmth ran through her as memories played of watching Feyre, Nesta, and Elain try to fit into the too small bed of the cabin as Y/n curled up right in front of the fireplace, laughing at her sisters bickering for space and urging Nesta to move her cold feet away from them. Eventually, her sisters stopped bickering and they too started laughing. Those were the glowing moments of joy they were able to find in the darkest times. The warmth in her body spread as the next memory played; the four of them dancing around a bonfire in the late Summer, early Autumn. Laughing and dancing like idiots because Y/n was able to convince the baker’s son to sneak her a cake. They hadn’t had a real cake, with icing and candles, in years, but she had seen it through the window and knew she needed to share it with her dearest sisters. The leaves were just starting to change color and the warm fire light casted the already orange and red leaves in the most stunning light.

The last memory that played was the night that Nesta brought home paints for Feyre. In the low light of the evening fire, Y/n begrudgingly gave up her spot directly in front of the flame so that Feyre had the best light to paint in. She painted their tiny dresser drawers with something to symbolize each of them. Nesta had her own dresser, full of the beautiful-and large-dresses their mother used to make her wear. Nesta requested her dresser be painted black. Simple, but a bold sentiment. Y/n’s drawer, of course, was painted with flames. It was a well known fact to everyone who met her that Y/n was drawn to the heat and comfort of fire. Sweet Elain’s drawer was painted in the flowers she loved to tend in the rather pathetic gardens. And for a reason she didn’t understand at the time, Feyre painted her drawer with the night sky. Dazzling stars and a bright moon to look down on her wherever she may be.

Y/n’s chest started to glow at that memory and finally she felt warm again, seeing that dingy old cabin, that fireplace lit, and the lives it made brighter, warmer, safer.

A sudden rush of the Cauldron’s freezing water had Y/n gasping for air that was no where to be found. She wasn’t drowning, but she wasn’t breathing either. She was stuck in this terrible, dark, cold place and feeling like all was lost. So, she spoke into the void, “you may take my body and soul, as long as you promise to watch over my sisters. Keep them safe and happy and whole.”

“Your eldest sister took something from me. Something very dark and very important. You are in no position to make a bargain for her safety.” The voice came as a harsh whisper that sounded like death itself. “I will get back what she took, and more, but I haven’t met a being a very long time who was willing to give. For that, I will reward you. What gift I have bestowed upon you, you must find out for yourself. It will either breathe life into what you love most… or suffocate it.”

With those final words spoken straight into her heart, Y/n felt the world shift as she was dumped from the Cauldron, back onto the ice-cold stone floor, soaking wet. The King of Hybern’s magic lifts just enough for Feyre to rush to her and cling to her like life depended on it.

The following events at Hybern will be scarred into Y/n mind for the rest of her newly immortal life. Lucien's painful screaming that Elain was his mate, the human queen going into the Cauldron and coming out old and decrepit because of what Nesta stole from it, Tamlin demanding that the King break the bond between Feyre and Rhysand, and Feyre saying that Rhys had her under a spell all this time.

If it weren’t for their relationship as twins seeming to strengthen now that they were both Fae, and for Feyre’s daemati powers, Y/n would have freaked the fuck out. Lucky for them all, Feyre explained the whole plan, albeit almost too rapidly for Y/n to understand given what she just went through in the Cauldron. Y/n played along and acted disgusted by Rhys and horrified as he winnowed her away. The cry of her sister's name was not forced or faked.

When they landed in what she could only assume was the Night Court, a beautiful female with eerie silver eyes and black hair came rushing around the corner. “Where is she?”

Rhysand explained everything. Only after calling for his best healers to help Cassian and Azriel. By the time he finished, Mor appeared after hiding Y/n's sisters away somewhere that they could rest and process.

“She is your mate, not your spy. Go. Get. Her.” The one with silver eyes, Amren, demanded.

“She is my mate. And my spy. And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.” Rhysand said softer, but not weakly.

“What?” Mor gasped.

Rhysand explained it all, and finally said, “Your High Lady made a sacrifice for her court, and we will move when the time is right.”

“Until then?” Amren asked sharply.

“Until then,” Rhysand spared each of them a glace, “we go to war.”

Mor showed Y/n to her room, told her to ask the house for whatever she needed, and that she should rest for as long as she needed. And that they were all here for her when she was ready to come out.

The first thing Y/n asked the house for was a fire to be lit. She was ready to get on her knees and beg for the heat of it, but when the house responded immediately, Y/n let out a sob and threw herself on the floor in front of the large hearth. She sat with her legs tucked under her, staring into the dancing flames as tears streamed down her face and choked sobs rocked her body. She stared into the blaze. Fire, she thinks, looks alive but is not. It dances and sways in the phantom wind and dries the tears that had long stopped coming. Y/n wished she could climb straight into the inferno and wrap it around herself to make her bed. For a moment she wonders if her new Fae body would allow such a thing, before she grabs a plush red dyed wool blanket, and a soft enough throw pillow from the couch, and she curls up in front of the glowing heat and sparkling embers. Right where she feels the safest and most at home.

Y/n slept off and on for four days if she’s been keeping track of time correctly. The house delivered food, that at first, she was hesitant to touch, because what does a house know about cooking? But once she got hungry enough to try the steaming soup and heavily buttered bread it delivered for dinner on night two, she ate her words. Literally. The house quickly learned that Y/n preferred black tea and something sweet to eat at breakfast, something light and fresh for lunch, and a hearty dense dinner. The fire had remained lit since the first night, when the house thought it would be okay to let it die out once Y/n fell asleep, and Y/n woke up screaming and shaking, nightmares plaguing her. The fire had not gone out again. Not even a flicker.

Y/n was feeling rested and eager to learn if there were any updates about her twin in the Spring Court. She needed to know if Feyre was okay. When she swung the door of her bedroom open, Rhysand was standing there, smirking, looking like he knew every thought in her head.

“I’ll need to teach you about mental shields.” His smirk grew, “you’re just as bad as Feyre was when she first got here, practically shouting your thoughts. I could probably hear you from the house of wind.”

Y/n blinked at him. Sure, she knew that Feyre’s daemati powers allowed her to speak into people’s minds, but to just openly heard other’s thoughts? How miserable that must be.

Rhysand gaped for a fraction of a second after hearing her thoughts, before his brows furrowed. “You- you’re not angry or afraid about the invasion of privacy?”

“I mean, would I prefer you not listen? Sure, but you just said you’d teach me to block you out, so really, I just feel bad for you both. I never want to know what’s going through other’s heads. That’s their business and it probably gets gross and annoying.”

There’s a silent pause before Rhysand throws his back and laughs, “It does get gross, and annoying,” He straightens again and says, "thank you, Y/n. Not many understand that or think about how it feels for us.”

“So then you probably already know that I was about to come find you and ask about Feyre?”

“Yes. Let’s talk about it once you’ve had a bath and change into clean clothes. Have you been sleeping and living in that for four days?” He eyes her absolutely filthy, no longer white, nightgown that she had been wearing when the Hybern soldiers took her.

“Yes. Yes, I have, Rhysand. But I will take that bath and clean clothes. I smell like the deer I killed the day we first met.” Y/n’s face scrunched at the memory of the stench that she never got used to, even after all those years of hunting with Feyre. “I’d say I would come find you, but you’ll probably know exactly when I’m ready.” She winked and tapped her finger to her temple before turning on her heel back into her room. The house must have been listening, because a hot bath was waiting for her in the bathing chambers. Soaps and oils that smelled like pine and cedar, a crackling fire, and the forest after it rains. Y/n had never smelt anything so lavish. Never smelt anything that captured the feeling of home so thoroughly.

Ridding herself of the disgusting nightgown, Y/n went to dip a toe in the steaming water and stopped. It felt so much like the Cauldron. But Y/n, like always, reminded herself to be adaptable. She was fine. This room was nothing like that place. This place had bright windows that lit up the room. She could see the bottom of the tub, nothing like the dark mirky waters she was forced into. She was fine and she was safe. Y/n prided herself on being able to choke her feelings down. She thought that if she could intellectualize her feelings, they wouldn’t be able to control her. It hadn't come to bite her in the ass yet. She calmed her racing heart, and plunged into the hot water and washed herself clean of the memories using the soaps that smelled like home. Those smells soothed her soul like a balm and she started to feel like herself again.

After taking her merry time in the tub, the house keeping the water hot as long as she needed it, Y/n stood and grabbed a towel from the vanity in the corner of the room. Y/n hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror yet, but figured now was as good of a time as any. She sat on the round cushioned stool and slowly lifted her head. She tilted her head back and forth, examining the subtle changes that suddenly made her Fae. She tucked her hair behind her ears to reveal the exaggerated, but soft, pointed ears. Smiled at herself to get a look at the elongated canines, and noticed how bright and sharp her eyes looked. She didn’t have her twin’s steely blue eyes, her father said she had his mother’s eyes. Y/n looked into her own y/e/c eyes and just blinked a few times. She was most definitely Fae now. And she would adapt.

Getting dressed quickly, Y/n stepped into the hall to find Rhysand, already waiting for her. He examined her loose, flowy brown pants, and the soft grey seater she chose. “No Night Court black?”

She tripped over her own foot at the words, “oh- oh no, I’m sorry, I’ve offended you. I’ll go change-!

“No! No, Y/n stop,” he gently griped her arm to prevent her from running back in her room. “It didn’t even occur to me that you might feel comfortable in something else. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He tilts his head, so their eyes meet.

“I just feel better in colors that remind me of the woods we grew up in. It makes me feel like myself in their new, strange body and this new world we’ve been brought into. I did not have any intention of disrespecting you or your home, Rhysand.”

“Please, Y/n, call me Rhys. We are family now, right? Humans would call us, ‘in-laws’?” His smile grew as Y/n’s lips twitched into their own smile, his hand dropping from her arm.

“Of course, Rhys. I’m glad to know my sister has found someone who loves her so well. I look forward to getting to know you as we work to bring Feyre home.”

“Yes, let’s get to work on that. Follow me.” Rhys guides her down the hall and through the foyer into a large seating area. Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren are all speaking lowly. Rhys clears his throat as he and Y/n enter the room, and all eyes fall on Y/n. More is the first to stand up and wrap her in a tight embrace. Y/n is shocked for a brief moment, before wrapping her arms around Mor in return.

Mor pulls back with tears in her eyes to say, “we love your sister so much. We are honored to have you in our family too. We will get her back.” Y/n smiles at her fondly and Mor turns to sit back down next to Cassian. Cassian and Azriel both smile and wave at her, just like they did the first time they met in the human lands. Amren and Y/n exchange nods, and Y/n predicts that is the most emotion she’ll ever see from the female.

Rhys is the first to speak next. “Let’s get started shall we?” He took a seat in the remaining armchair, and Y/n took up a spot on the floor, directly in front of the fireplace. Her favorite place to be. “Y/n, you don’t have to sit on the floor. We can ask the house to provide another chair.”

“I’m perfectly content right here, but thank you, Rhys,” Y/n went as far as to shuffle further back toward the heat.

Azriel’s usually calculated expression fell as he stared at her in total confusion. Never had he seen someone look like they wanted to be consumed by flames. He couldn’t even comprehend it. He schooled his features when he felt Cassian pop him in the ribs with his elbow and clear this throat.

“As you wish. Azriel, I know you’re still recovering, and I do not want you to push it, but have your shadows told you anything?”

“Not much. Feyre is still hardly allowed to leave the house, Lucien is still warry of her, and Tamlin is none the wiser. She isn’t eating enough.” He says the last part so quietly and with so much anger, a shiver runs down Y/n spine. She decides to never get on Azriel’s bad side.

“Have you heard from her? Can’t you two talk through your minds or something?” Cassian asks.

“Not much. We don’t want Tamlin, or Lucien for that matter, to get suspicious. But when we do speak, she sounds so far away and it’s an effort to keep the line open. Something isn’t right, but I don’t know what it is. When she was in Spring before it wasn’t this hard. It has to be Hybern’s presence there.”

“So all we can do is sit around and wait for more information?” Mor asks incredulously.

“I wish it could say otherwise, but for now, yes. Azriel and Cassian, you need to heal and get back to training, so we’re prepared when something changes and we have to move.” They call nod their agreement and accept that it’s all they can do right now.

“I want to train too.” Y/n’s voice startles them, as if they forgot she was there.

“Of course, we’ll work on your mental shields and-“

“No- I’m sorry- I don’t mean to interrupt. I mean, yes, I do want to train with you to build my mental shield, but I also want to train with Cassian and Azriel. I want to feel strong. I want to be strong. I never want what happened in Hybern to happen again. I never want to feel helpless like that and I want to help my sister.” Y/n was firm and confident when she locked eyes with Rhys, even as tears welled in her waterline.

“Okay. Whatever you need, we’ll do it.” Rhys looked at her like he could see right through her. To the scared little girl who lost her mother, who had to learn to hunt and steal and sell her body for godsdamned bread. She had never felt so vulnerable, and she quickly broke the stare.

“Are you okay with that?” Y/n asked Cassian and Azriel.

“Yes.” “Of course.” They replies in unison.

“Thank you.”

The day turned into evening and the group is still sitting around the tiny coffee table in that grand living room. Just relaxing in each other’s presence and sharing stories with Y/n, learning more about her. “Everyone thinks that the fire painted on the drawer was for Nesta because she is so fierce, but it’s not true,” Y/n chuckles fondly as she thinks of her sharp tongued eldest sister. “I have always been drawn to the flames. Even as a baby, my parents had to keep candles far away from me.” That gets a laugh from everyone in the room. Even Amren lets out a short breath that could be considered a laugh.

“So which one was Nesta’s? Don’t tell me it was the flowers,” Cassian asked. You could tell he was attached to her, even though they had only a few brief interactions and Nesta was far less than pleasant.

“Nesta had her own full wardrobe, painted black and full of dresses our mother stuffed her into when she gave her those awful etiquette lessons.” Y/n shuddered at the memory. And then paused, just now realizing that she had no idea where her sisters were. Her heart started racing and her eyes shot to Rhys’s, knowing he had already heard every thought.

“They’re safe. They aren’t adapting as well as you are, but they’re safe and they’re okay. I promise you; I will not let anything happen to them.” Y/n laughed internally as that word. Adapting. It’s what she was best at she supposed.

Weeks had passed and Y/n had been dedicated to training with Cassian and Azriel at least once every day, sometimes twice if her energy is pent up enough. And she has a lesson with Rhys everyday too. She’s learning to read, and her mental shield is solid. Her body had never felt so strong. It was a real hit to her ego though to learn that she had been carrying her body weight wrong and lifting deer over her shoulders incorrectly her whole life. Training with Azriel was calmer than training with Cassian. Azriel moved with so much grace and control and was making you learn all the movements and balance exercises. Cassian was intense. Teaching you how to move swiftly to block and avoid kicks and punches. The fact that was going easy on you was an even bigger hit to your ego.

On this particular day, Y/n trained with Azriel in the morning, noticing how much more balanced her body felt, could isolate muscles and utilize them. After lunch was her lesson with Rhys. She’s able to push him out of her mind now, still with some effort, but she doesn’t break out in a sweat now. She spent the afternoon resting and reading when Cassian stormed into the library and asked if she wanted to train. That brought them to the training area on the townhouse. Cassian complains that it isn’t as big as the one at the house of wind, but it did the job. Cassian had just gotten back from visiting the house of wind and he was angry. He was throwing punches and seeming to forget who he was sparring with. He was moving too fast and punching too hard, but Y/n couldn’t seem to get the words out to tell him to stop. He advanced forward and as she backed up, she stumbled, allowing Cassian to land a punch straight to her jaw. Her head rattled but before she could even register the pain, she yelled, teeth bared and fists clenched to her side, “ENOUGH CASSIAN!”

The world stopped, and after two, three, four heartbeats she realized Cassian wasn’t breathing. He was staring at her as his eyes went wide and he grabbed his throat. He crashed to his knees and reached for her hands. Releasing her tight grip on her own fists, air rushed back into Cassian’s lung. He gasped for breath as Y/n fell to her knees too and let out a sob. “I am so sorry Cassian. I am so so sorry; I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry.” She somehow managed to get the words out between sobs and gasping for air.

“Y/n, Y/n it’s okay! I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t believe I hit you, I am so sorry Y/n. Please, look at me, I need you to breathe. I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He held her and rocked her back and forth until her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace and she could lift her head to look at him. “Shit. Rhys is going to kill me when he sees that bruise on your face. Mor might beat him to it though. I’m so sorry.”

Y/n stands up and walks to the bathing room down the hall. Cassian ran to her when he heard her start…laughing? The picture in front of him as he skidded around the corner was one he could never have predicted. Y/n was clutching her stomach, leaning over the sink and laughing hysterically at her reflection. Cassian had punched her so hard that the bruising started at her jaw and gave her a black eye. Cassian was horrified, but Y/n just kept laughing, so eventually, he did too. Mor, Rhys, and Azriel came running around the corner too, wondering what the commotion was about. When they saw Y/n face, a collective, “what the fuck Cass?” Was sounded by the other three Fae. This made Y/n and Cassian double down and laugh even harder.

When they caught their breath again, Cassian stood up proudly, patted Y/n on the back and said, “I helped Y/n discover her powers today. No big deal,” he said with no small amount of smugness.

“You mean you needed a punching bag and I had to defend myself?” Y/n quirked a brow at him.

“Semantics!” He argued.

“Wait wait wait, Y/n has powers?” Rhys’s eyes went hazy as he mentally called for Amren. “Tell me everything.”

Y/n recounted the events of their fight and how she literally took his breath away. She didn’t know she was controlling any magic; she hadn’t felt it rise up, but it must have subconsciously come to her defense.

“You’re going to have to drop down to one lesson with Cass and Az a day and pick up an extra with me and Amren. We need to learn more about this power. Power gifted by the Cauldron itself is new territory for all of us. We don’t know what the boundaries of your power are.” The sudden seriousness in Rhys’s face felt sobering as Y/n and Cassian were pulled out of their laughter and back into the reality of who and what Y/n was. Cauldron made.

Another few weeks passed of training non-stop. The magic was a lot harder for Y/n to figure out than the fighting. As of today, she can suck the air out of a room that’s about 12ft by 12ft and hold it for five minutes before faltering, and she can send a blast of air and knock Cassian over from 30ft away. Cassian was used as the dummy for both tests as an apology for decking her in the face.

Y/n was in the middle of her reading lesson for the day when Azriel came crashing into the room. “We found her. Feyre got out of Spring; we have to get her. We need your help and your magic.”

She was up in an instant. She didn’t care that she wasn’t in fighting leathers, she just needed to get to her sister. Before she had a chance to ask any questions, Azriel grabbed her and jumped from the balcony. Y/n hadn’t flown before. Never wanted to be a burden to the Illyrians. But wow, what an experience. Azriel quickly caught up to Cassian and the three of them flew swiftly and precisely.

“Where are we going?” Y/n noticed the moment they left Velaris and the landscape changed to an icy tundra. She missed the heat and comfort of her spot in front of the fireplace in the library already.

“The Winter Court. I’m sorry there wasn’t time to get you in warmer clothes. I know you have a hard time with the cold. I should have prepared you.” Azriel felt terrible, but Feyre needed them. Y/n would adapt.

“It’s okay, Az. Feyre is more important. I’m okay,” and she meant it.

The touchdown was quick. Not a lot of time to slow down and land gently. The Illyrians landed and shook the ground. Azriel was softer about letting Y/n down. Before her was quite possibly her worst nightmare unfolding. Her twin sister, her favorite person in the entire world, was being restrained by the thing that brought her the most peace. A strange male was standing above her sister, using his gift of fire to hold her at her wrists and her neck. Y/n was frozen in place. Her mind went blank as her body was slammed with fear and disgust at the gross misuse of the flames licking at her sister’s throat. It felt like a violation to her very core. Her very soul was raging at the sight. Not only for her sister being in danger, but because of the way the male was using the thing Y/n held closest to her heart and found the most precious, as a weapon to do harm.

“Y/n! Y/n!” She was thrust back into reality by Cassian’s large hands shaking her back to consciousness. She blinked at him a few times before looking over his shoulder to see Azriel already taking down the other red-headed males and saving another. Lucien. Lucien was on Feyre’s side? Blinking again and trying to remain present, she and Cassian turned to the male holding Feyre. “Now, Y/n.”

With those two words form Cassian, Y/n approached the male, and he had the audacity to laugh at her. Granted, she was still in her house slippers, baggy linen pants and oversized sweater, so she wasn’t looking her most intimidating. But he quickly stopped laughing as Y/n lifted her hands above her head, closed her fists, and threw her hands down to her side. It didn’t take long for the male to realize that he could no longer take a breath. So focused on clawing at his throat, he didn’t notice that his flames had no oxygen to restrain his hostage either. Cassian, being well versed in her magic, ran into the void she’d created, grabbed Feyre, who unfortunately also couldn’t breathe, and got her out of your field of magic. Azriel was there with Lucien in a second, Mor winnowing in to grab Y/n, Cassian, and Feyre.

They landed in the townhouse seconds later, Azriel and Lucien not far behind. Y/n was in her sister’s arms before anyone could blink. They held each other tightly, but Feyre looked over Y/n shoulder to Mor.

“He’s on his way. He’s far away, but he is rushing home to you as fast as he can. He felt the bond and sent us ahead to get you.” Mor was crying too, and Y/n turned to wave her into their hug. Right now, her sister was home and everything else could wait for tomorrow. Even if Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that red haired male on the frozen lake today. the way he laughed at her and made her feel small, and she sucked the air from his lungs like it was nothing. She thought it would have made her feel good. but it didn't, and she wasn't sure why. She would fall asleep picturing his fearful face for many nights.

Taglist: @abysshaven @minaethrym @ivy-34 @stained-glass-eyes0708

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #autumn court #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x reader

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niningtori · 6 months

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let me into your world | chapter one: my world is mine

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you're a hopeless romantic waiting for your soulmate, but what do you do when you finally find him and he doesn't want you?

genre(s): romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?), soulmate au

word count: 7.1k

notes: for some reason, i feel SO embarrassed to post this. it was the first series i ever wrote, so it's getting a facelift before seeing the light of day, but it's still a little flabby in some places. bear with me, please! also, shoutout to evie for this layout with the lyrics in the center :') i'm tired of looking at my own uglyass posts so much omg. see ending for more notes!

your soulmate is perfect in every way, or so you've been told, and you're sick of waiting to find out. everyone says meeting your soulmate is like finding the other half you never had, so when the yearning had started when you were a teen, you were eager to find him and put an end to your constant ache. it would be impossible to know who it was until your seal appeared on your skin. where it would land and what it would look like, you weren't sure, but you knew it couldn't come fast enough. in theory, he would complement you in every way. you imagine someone quiet, a little shy, maybe. someone thoughtful, someone patient and understanding. you just hope to god he's everything you wish him to be.

beomgyu has had just about enough of soulmate talk, but unfortunately for him, it's inescapable. when he turned 13, the yearning had already started for most of his peers. when his friends asked if he felt similarly, he simply shrugged his shoulders with a smug little grin while musing that he might not even have a soulmate — maybe he was just partnerless. some of his friends, like taehyun and kai, were appalled by this, almost pitying him. half of his heart was missing, after all. some of his other friends, however, were a bit jealous. their reasoning was "it'd be nice to not be chained down by someone you don't even know". he agreed with the latter sentiment, having seen the effects of being chained to somebody firsthand.

he remembers watching his mother wither away. she had loved his father more than anyone, even him, and got scraps of affection in return. they weren't soulmates — her perfect other half had died not long after she met him, but his father became her second and last love. he didn't concern himself with soulmate talk and eventually married beomgyu's mother. they were happy, very happy, until beomgyu was around 10 and his father met his so-called soulmate. he remembers the sheer despair on his mother's face as she found out her husband was leaving seemingly out of nowhere, her life uprooted because of a fucking pattern imprinted on her lover's skin.

they weren't soulmates, but beomgyu watched his mother die a little every day until she finally passed. dying of a broken heart was the only way he could explain what happened to her, and she did all that for a man who wasn't even her soulmate. if soulmates could make you kill someone innocent for your love, he didn't want to find his at all. if love could make you abandon everything you've ever known, well, he simply didn't want to know what it felt like.

college is a turning point for you, you feel. you had a good time in high school, but you're nearing the average age of the seal and you're more than prepared to find your special someone. you couldn't know for sure, but you have a feeling none of the boys in your high school were your other half.

"why don't you date just to get some experience?" sumin asks somewhat exasperatedly. you had rejected yet another guy with seemingly good intentions for practically no reason.

"i don't know, i guess i just don't want to waste my time on anybody else when i already know my soulmate is out there waiting on me," you shrug. "i want to save all my firsts for him."

"you're hopeless, you know?" she snorts.

"yeah," you smile, "but he's probably the same way." she teases you good-naturedly for this, but even she agrees that you'll most likely fall for a guy just as hopelessly in love as you are. he wouldn't even have to try very hard — you're willing to put in however much effort it takes to find him and love him unconditionally. all he needs to do is reciprocate and you would do the rest.

unfortunately for you, time has passed and you're nearing the end of your time in college with no soulmate in sight. you'd be more upset about it if you weren't so fucking busy with school work and trying to line up a job post-graduation. you're so wound up lately that sumin practically forces you to let loose and go to a house party. needless to say, they aren't particularly your scene. you like to drink just as much as anybody else does, you guess, but that doesn't mean you want to reek of shitty beer, sweat, and premarital sex, which will undoubtedly be the case once you step into a college house party. still, she is as persistent as you are exhausted and you're too defeated to fight.

you're fairly bored after fifteen minutes or so of loitering around all the action, never really joining in on the antics of your friends and all the other party goers unless you absolutely have to. you're absentmindedly kicking around a beer can when it rolls away, straight in front of a couch. you go to kick it again when you look up and see him.

you can't keep your eyes off of him. you've found people attractive before, but he's probably the most beautiful person — maybe even the most beautiful thing — you've ever seen. your heart almost stops when you look at him.

in that moment, the idea that he could be the one blooms in your head and you can't help but stare. you don't how long you keep your eyes locked on him, but he eventually looks up at you and his eyes widen for a split second. you're almost positive he feels what you feel, but not even a moment later, he pulls out what you can only describe as a lascivious smirk as his eyes travel up and down your figure. you feel like meat on display rather than his sacred other half. before you know it, a girl is sliding into his lap and he's turning away from you and planting a heavy kiss on her glossy lips while groping her ass.

"that's beomgyu," sumin says and you're snapped back into reality. "he's really hot, but he's slept with pretty much every girl here."

you're somewhat disappointed before you realize you must be mistaken. there's no way a man like that could be your soulmate. you strangle the bud of hope in your heart mercilessly because your soulmate is somewhere waiting for you and you can't afford to lose him over some pretty boy with community dick.

you said you'd avoid him, but beomgyu is the first one you notice when you walk into the first class of your final semester as a college student. his eyes lock with yours and you hurriedly avert your gaze before sliding into the nearest seat.

"hi," a sweet voice from next to you says. you jolt and turn to look at him.

"sorry, i didn't mean to scare you," he laughs.

"it's okay, i'm just a little jumpy, i guess," you grin sheepishly.

"i'm soobin," he smiles and you can see his dimples come out. you briefly wonder if he'd mind if you poked them, but that sounds weird even to you.

you introduce yourself and find you're forgetting all about beomgyu as you and soobin begin to chat. he's funny in a dorky kind of way, and you can't help but giggle at the seemingly unassuming things he says.

beomgyu notices you when you first walk in because of course he does, but he sees you sit next to soobin, a guy he met in freshman year, and feels a sense of loss he's never felt before. he watches as you grin and giggle at whatever lame jokes the boy next to you is almost certainly making and his eyes darken. yeonjun, his longtime friend and desk mate, notices his sour mood and asks what's wrong. beomgyu can't really answer that question. even he himself doesn't know why he feels so against you, a stranger, spending time with another guy, but he chalks it up to the fact that he thinks you're hot and would very much like to get in your pants as soon as possible.

he supposes he should have done so when he first saw you, but duty called when one of his frequent flyers sat in his lap and he couldn't very well ignore the way her chest swayed in front of him. he doesn't think about it much more deeply than that. he doesn't want to think about how your eyes seem to indicate that you know him — have known him — and he feels the same way about you. he toys with the idea of maybe asking you if you two knew each other at some point, but deep down, he knows he'd never forget you if he actually had known you before. he tries not to think about why that is.

a few weeks into the semester, you've sat next to soobin every day and it's safe to say you have a tiny little crush on him, but you know he's not your soulmate when he rolls his sleeves up one day and you spot a green seal on his wrist. you roll up your own sweater, just to be sure, but there's no pretty green tattoo to match. he spots your empty wrist and the expression on his face looks an awful lot like disappointment.

"i don't really care about that stuff, you know?" he whispers as your professor drones on and on about something you've stopped listening to long ago.

"really?" you ask a little too eagerly before reining yourself back in. what are you doing? you have a soulmate and he's waiting for you.

"really, really," he smiles. you prepare to launch into a long speech about the sanctity of soulmates and how you're waiting devoutly for yours, but instead of pushing the subject any further, he simply turns to the professor again and you're left reeling.

you're pulled back to your senses when the professor announces everyone will be paired up with a partner for an assignment. you and soobin grin at each other and are ready to begin prepping for the project when your professor adds that the partners will be completely random. when he calls soobin's name, your fingers are crossed in hopes that you'll somehow still get lucky, but he ends up pairing him with another classmate named yeonjun. you start getting a sinking feeling, something akin to dread, and you don't know why. clarity overwhelms you when you register that the person your professor opts to pair you with is none other than choi beomgyu.

beomgyu is late to your first library appointment together and though you didn't expect anything less from him, you're still annoyed when he arrives nearly 15 minutes after the scheduled time with nothing but a mumbled "sorry" and a cheeky grin.

"it's fine," you offer, but you both know you're irritated. you're a little bit of a pushover by nature and it's like he could immediately sniff it out. he doesn't even make an attempt to seem like he cares, though.

"are you ready to get started?" you ask.

"of course, what are you waiting for?" you roll your eyes at his shamelessness, frustration melting away without you intending for it to. you're kind of shy, but his presence is so comforting, it's like you've known him for years, so you dare to say your next words without much thought.

"you, smartass." he looks a little appalled at your words but he registers it as a joke when he notices the corner of your lips struggling not to pull themselves up, eyes gazing mischievously from beneath your eyelashes. not for the first time, he thinks you're really pretty. but he, not for the first time, says nothing.

after a few meet ups, you realize being with beomgyu is easier than you thought it would be. sure, he's incredibly obnoxious, but he's surprisingly easy to talk to. he invites you to his apartment one day and, as if he senses your apprehension before you can even feel it yourself, he states his roommate will be there as well. you try not to read too much into it, but you have a feeling he's implying that he won't make any moves on you. you're grateful for this, but unexpectedly a bit disappointed. as for why that is, you don't venture to guess.

being in his apartment is a new feeling entirely. it feels oddly... intimate somehow when you enter his bedroom and see all of his posters, his messy bed, and some vinyls stacked up against his record player. he nonchalantly puts one on and you gasp when you recognize the song.

"i love this band," you say quickly. his eyebrows raise in interest.

"you like them too?"

"of course i do! i've loved them since i was a teenager," you laugh.

"do you like their newer stuff?"

you wrinkle your nose a little bit at this, your answer evident. he laughs his signature squeaky laugh at this and you can't help but stare in awe at his dimples, like whiskers, appearing on his cheeks. you clear your throat awkwardly and begin to talk about the project.

after a few hours and some really great progress, you find you're a little hungry. you're about to mention this, but beomgyu beats you to the punch.

"i'm starving. want pizza?" you smile when you realize you're on the exact same page.

"thought you'd never ask."

you're sitting on his couch now, wolfing down your third piece of pizza while beomgyu slurps the cheese off of his. he's talking about absolutely nothing, but he's still easily drawing more and more laughter out of you with his antics. you tell him to stop because you hate your laugh, but he's addicted to the sound. he wants to keep you laughing. words like "always" and "forever" briefly flicker across his mind, and usually he would force them out with conviction, but he's having such a good time hearing you giggle he can't pay attention to much else. he never says it or gives any indication he feels that way, though. he just tells you "i can't help that i'm so fucking funny and charming and beautiful." you lightly smack the back of his head and he's giggling with you.

things are going remarkably well when his roommate emerges from his room and says a few of his friends will be coming over soon. you don't particularly want to hang around them and you certainly don't want to overstay your welcome, but beomgyu, for reasons unknown, insists that you stick around.

"we can just relax for a bit then get back to work. c'mon, don't you wanna finish this thing?"

"fine, fine, fine. i'll stay." his face lights up at your words and you can't help but blush a little bit at this. why he's so excited, you have no clue. what you also don't know is he has no idea why he's so excited, either.

a few minutes later, a few guys enter the apartment boisterously and you can't help but internally regret sticking around. beomgyu, almost preternaturally, senses how uncomfortable you are and makes an effort to introduce you and include you in conversation. things are going well until one of the guys, whose name you don't know but whose face seems vaguely familiar, makes an offhanded comment.

"y'know, gyu, she's actually very smart. maybe you'll actually pass." the entire group bursts into laughter and joke about his supposed stupidity and laziness.

"he's actually very helpful. i couldn't do this without him," you counter with a little edge to your voice.

"maybe you're not deadweight after all," he says sarcastically. beomgyu just smirks and goes along with it. to the untrained eye, he seems perfectly fine, but to you, he just looks kind of sad. you pull out your phone and decide to text him.

you don't have to laugh if you don't think it's funny

he looks up at you and you nod encouragingly.

it's fine i really am kinda dumb

don't say things you don't mean. you're not their dancing monkey here to entertain them and you're not a fucking punching bag

his heart feels a little sour at this. how did you know he was hurt by their comments, no matter how seemingly harmless they were? even his own friends didn't seem to notice, but somehow, you did. you always seem to notice the little changes within him. like when he's tired and doesn't want to show it, you offer to take breaks or meet another day. or when he's stressed out so you try to wrangle even the smallest of smiles out of him — real ones, that is. he wants to say you're just a thoughtful and perceptive person, but in reality, he thinks it's a little more complicated than that.

it's beomgyu's birthday, which should be a happy occasion, but for some reason, you feel like shit. you wonder if it's a mix of anxiety because of the project or maybe because your time in college is coming to the end, but it feels so much more profound than that. you woke up this morning from a fitful sleep and it feels like there's a hole blown through your heart. if you feel like shit, you don't look much better, but you have to meet with beomgyu at his apartment and you can't be late.

"whoa, you look absolutely awful," he muses when he opens the door and sees you with two appalling dark circles under your eyes.

"wow, thanks, asshole," you mumble. you did, indeed, look and feel like utter shit, but being here seems to bring a sense of relief you did not anticipate.

"hey, i'm just kidding, you look pretty," he laughs. he's been saying things like this, lately. you can't deny the way your heart skips a beat, but you shoot down any further thoughts because you know, know, know he sleeps around and you know that seemingly off-the-cuff comments like this are probably part of the reason why he's able to do so as easily as he does. you're not to be trifled with, though, so instead of letting the comment fly off your back as you usually would, your mouth opens before you know it.

"not as pretty as you, beoms," you smirk. you don't know exactly what you expected, but his ears turning a rosy pink isn't it.

"o-okay," he says sheepishly, clearing his throat. you find him criminally endearing in this moment, and for once, you don't mentally slap yourself for it.

"oh yeah. happy birthday!" you say, pulling out a cupcake and decisively putting an end to the awkwardness.

"thanks," he says with a smile before eyeing you suspiciously. "is this poisoned?"

"give it back," you say monotonously and he giggles when you try to snatch it away from him.

"hey, i'm just kidding! thank you!" he says as he takes a bite and his eyes widen in surprise.

"mmm, how'd you know this flavor's my favorite?"

"i dunno, i didn't. i just kinda figured you'd like it," you shrug. you walk towards his coffee table, which is where you all have been working lately, and again he's plagued with the idea that you know him far more deeply than you should.

working with beomgyu usually goes smoothly, but you're exhausted. you're still incredibly sad for no reason, but being with him makes you feel less... empty? you would try to put a name to the feeling, but you're too tired to do so at the moment.

"want some coffee?" he asks as he watches you yawn for the umpteenth time since you've been here.

"please," you say sleepily. he smiles and gets up from the floor as you bury your head in your hands.

beomgyu has been in a relatively good mood since you've been here, and not just because it's his birthday. he can't explain why, but his mouth has pretty much been etched into a curve ever since you got here. he catches a glimpse of his smiling face in the mirror of his living room before opting to fix his hair a little, mindful of how he looks in front of you. when he does this, he feels a rough patch of skin behind his right ear. he's confused when he runs his fingers over it and feels grooves and lines where there shouldn't be.

he quickly pulls out his phone and takes a picture. what he sees horrifies him. a seal. it's pink and delicate, but has a complicated pattern he couldn't even begin to replicate. the day he's been dreading for years has finally come. he stares at the picture before shaking his head and ruffling his hair to cover it again. no. this changes nothing. he won't let this ruin his day — his life.

he moves to the kitchen and begins to prepare your coffee. when he reenters the living room, he hears you lightly snoring with your head resting on the coffee table. he smiles in spite of himself and places the coffee down. he wants to say you look peaceful, but your eyebrows are furrowed like there's something you can't quite figure out.

he chuckles softly to himself before subconsciously pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. that's when he sees it. pink like a blooming flower and as complicated in its pattern as the one on his head. he hurriedly pulls his phone out and compares the picture of his seal to the one behind your ear. he already knows, but he has to be completely sure. he's not surprised in the slightest when he comes to the conclusion that they are, indeed, the same.

when you awaken, you feel a pit in your stomach and you're genuinely on the verge of tears. someone would think you'd had a nightmare, but you hadn't. you're stuck in a whirlwind of emotions when you're snapped away from them by a soft baritone voice.

"you awake?" beomgyu asks.

"shit, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, wiping the drool off of your face and straightening up your hair. "how long has it been?"

"i dunno, an hour or two?" he says nonchalantly. you sense some resentment in his tone and you feel beyond apologetic.

"god, i'm so sorry. let's just finish this really quick and i'll get going. i'm sure you want to be done with this and celebrate your birthday," you say embarrassedly.

"i already finished it," he says, and even through your sleepiness, you feel his disdain.

"you... finished it? alone?"

"why? do you think i'm not capable of doing it by myself?"

"no! not at all! i just feel bad that you had to do it alone," you exclaim.

"well, it's done. so you can leave now," he says, not without urgency.

"leave? but i —" but what? but i wanted to spend more time with you? that doesn't sound right, but that's what you feel.

"you can leave now," he repeats with disgust that you can't quite understand.

"o-okay. i'll get my stuff and go, but shouldn't we review everything together just in case?"

"i have plans, so no," he says firmly. you have no idea why he's so angry. you want to say it's because he had to finish the project alone while you were knocked out and drooling on his coffee table, but it feels much deeper than that.

"thanks for finishing everything. again, i'm so sorry," you say as you gather your things and head for the door. beomgyu is ready to shut the door behind you when you look back to him and softly say "happy birthday, beoms." and the door slams shut.

when you get home, the first thing you do is cry. the pain in your heart is suffocating. you so badly want to know what it is that's causing this seemingly out of nowhere pain, but you can't put your finger on it to save your life. you decide to shower and have another good cry. after you shower, you look in the mirror as you twist your hair up in a towel. your fingertips rub against a rough patch behind your ear when you do so and you're stunned before you register what it is. you take a picture to get a better look at it, but you already kinda know what to expect: a seal.

it's more beautiful than you imagined it'd be, but instead of joy, all you feel is dread. but why? a seal is a happy thing. you should feel relieved to finally have it on you and he should, too. you ponder over this and come to the conclusion that it's not your pain you're feeling, but your soulmate's. you've heard about soulmates feeling each other's emotions before, though it was somewhat rare. the question is: why is he so sad? you don't know how, but you instinctively know it has to do with the seal appearing and it makes you drop to the bathroom floor in tears. this isn't how you wanted it to be. you clutch your chest, willing your heart to stop pounding so hard, but it doesn't.

beomgyu has been avoiding you, that much is clear. as to why that is, you have no idea. he used to greet you and strike up conversation, project be damned. you want to think about this more, but the depression you feel makes it hard to think clearly about, well, anything, really. you feel an emptiness you've never known before, and you can't help but feel like being with him would make it better. in a way, you're glad he finished the project alone because you're sure you wouldn't have been able to be much help at all.

when you walk into the class you share, his absence puts you at a loss you don't understand. you remember that soobin is yeonjun's partner and ask him if he knows anything about beomgyu's whereabouts. he shakes his head.

"i don't know the details, but yeonjun said he's been bummed ever since he got his seal." ever since he got his seal? that means he must have gotten it recently, just like you. the cogs in your brain start to turn and you feel the dread in your stomach again.

"why?” you ask tentatively.

"i dunno. i think he might not like his soulmate, but he won't talk about it any more than that," he shrugs. "hey, are you okay?"

you nod before touching the seal behind your ear. you feel another pang in your heart. what if... what if he has the same seal? what if... beomgyu is your soulmate?

after class, you practically sprint out of the room and to beomgyu's apartment. you pound on his door impatiently and when he doesn't answer, you pound even louder.

"what are you doing here?" he hisses when he swings the door open. you flinch a little, but you're determined to get some answers. you falter when you notice a girl, haphazardly dressed, appearing from behind him.

"who's this, beomie?" she says, voice silky smooth.

"kick rocks," he says simply. she shrugs and makes her way past you while fiddling with her clothes. you don't have to guess what they just got finished doing, and it hurts, hurts, hurts.

"who's that?" you say, eyes glassy.

"what are you doing here?" he asks again, actually a little embarrassed, but never showing an ounce of it. you storm into his apartment and he shuts the door behind you.

"show me your seal," you say determinedly.

"what? no," he answers defensively.

you reach for his long hair to lightly tuck it behind his pierced ears. he wants to stop you, but he can't bear the thought of batting away your hand. he hears you inhale a sharp breath as you see the pink seal behind his ear and he feels his chest becoming heavier and heavier.

"how long have you known?"

"since my birthday," he answers after a slight pause.

"and when were you gonna tell me?"

"probably never," he says truthfully. your hand drops to your side and he subconsciously misses the way your touch felt.

"why?"

"because... because i don't want a soulmate."

"what's so bad about me?" you ask as your lips tremble.

"it's not just you," he sighs. "i've never wanted a soulmate."

"then what's so bad about soulmates?"

"i just don't want one and you can't make me," he snaps and you wince, so he tries again. "look, you're a nice girl and everything, but it's never gonna happen between us, so you need to stop trying."

"even without the seal, i'd still have feelings for you. that's how much you mean to me." he looks a little taken aback by this, as if he never expected to hear those words from you or anyone, really, and it makes your heart ache. "can't you just give me a chance?" you look so earnest right now, but he's almost sadistically dedicated to squashing the sprout of hope that is almost certainly peeking out of you right now.

"no, i can't. you're not my type at all. if we weren't soulmates i'd never even look at you." he's lying but if he's not cruel now, he knows you'll never let go.

"but we are soulmates and you are looking at me right now."

"for god's sake, you're not hearing what i'm saying. i will never love you, alright? i tried to be nice about it but you keep pushing me. you look fucking pathetic right now."

your frown deepens, eyes reddened and hot. as a last ditch effort, you hurriedly say your next words.

"i can feel your pain," you whisper and his eyes widen. "i know you feel it every day. i know you're empty and you need somebody — why can't i be that person? i-i'll be whatever you need me to be." you've taken your heart and served it on a silver platter. all he has to do is hold it.

"because you're not what i need! you're not even what i want!"

the silence that follows will haunt him for the rest of his life. you look so small right now, so fragile. he almost wants to take everything back, but he remembers what soulmates mean and what they can do to a person. he looks at how vulnerable you are, how your heart is bleeding in front of him and how easily he can and will break it. he never wants to give anyone that power over him. no fucking way.

"i can feel your pain," you try again, and before he can reply you continue. "can you at least feel mine?" you look absolutely devastated with your eyebrows furrowed pleadingly, sobs racking your body. you look like you're going to be sick.

"i can't and i don't wanna," he answers flippantly with a shrug and a lopsided smile. "that's how much you mean to me." he knows exactly what to say and how to say it, the way only somebody who really knows you ever can. it's the final nail in the coffin for you. you will lock your heart for him in it and bury it as deep as it'll go.

"i've been waiting for you, you know? always. always." your eyes trail down to his hastily thrown on shirt and hickeys adorning his neck. at this, his jaw clenches and his eyes actually close in shame. you're not sure where your pain ends and his begins, but for the first time, you don't really care. a burning rage fills your heart and your dignity demands to be taken seriously for the first time. you're a doormat, sure, but you won't be anymore. not for him, anyway.

"i don't want to see you anymore. don't you ever fucking talk to me again," you finish and with a spin on your heel you're sprinting towards the door.

you are true to your word. when you walk into class after the entire debacle, you don't even spare him a glance. even if you can feel his gaze on you, you remain perfectly unfazed. he asked for this, he thinks. it's the way it should be. still, nothing really consoles him when he sees how tired you look. he can't feel your pain, but he can very well see it, and he wishes he could take it away. he regrets what he said to you, but he knows you'd never give up if he had given you even a sliver of a way out.

you're a good girl, though. a lot of people will come your way if you'll just let them. he feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about what they'll be like. he doesn't like to imagine it very much, but his thoughts wander that way more than he'd like to admit. he can't fathom anyone being good enough for you, really. especially not him.

do you feel the way he hates himself for the way he has to treat you? he doesn't know for sure, but he's pretty convinced when he sees you put your head in your hands, shoulders shaking. soobin quietly asks if you're alright before you bolt out of the room.

it's an end of the year house party thrown by soobin's new friend and former project partner, yeonjun. you truly, honest to god, do not want to go, but sumin really wants you to and you feel guilty because you're unsure when you'll see her again after graduation.

you sit almost catatonically as she does your hair and makeup, dressing you as if you're some kind of doll. when she's finished playing dress-up, you have to give credit where it's due. you look like a new person, but you can still feel the rotten old you underneath the shiny veneer, and it doesn't feel very good at all.

you're sitting in a circle, passing a blunt around when someone mentions him. it's innocuous enough, but you still flinch when you hear it. they joke about how he's probably upstairs getting his dick wet with some exchange student who's only here for a semester. you don't think that's true, if only because you can feel the pull and it feels so fucking lonely and isolated there can't possibly be anyone else around him, but it still hurts to hear all the same.

sumin gets blackout drunk fairly quickly, which is nothing new. what is new, however, is how you match her shot for shot and chug for chug. you know in your head that you should stop, but your heart keeps telling you to drown it, drown it, drown it until you can't feel the pull anymore. so you do.

"my god, you're drunk!" yeonjun exclaims when you're literally about to fall over and bust your head open.

"i'm not drunk, you're drunk!" you hiccup. he almost laughs before he sees you grip your stomach and gag. he thinks it's the alcohol, but in reality, you feel the loneliness beomgyu felt dissipating and you can only imagine what he's doing to cope. fuck, you didn't want to feel this.

"c'mon, girl. don't throw up here. let's go to the bathroom." he leads you up the stairs into some shitty bathroom that doesn't even have toilet paper. you kneel in front of the toilet and let yourself go, tears marring your carefully crafted makeup.

yeonjun gently grabs your loose hair and twists it into a makeshift ponytail. when he sweeps the last few strands from behind your ears, he sees it. all pretty and pink, ornate but unassuming. the seal you share with beomgyu.

"oh fuck," he says simply. you're drunk, too drunk, but even you know what he means.

"don't... don't look at it," you hiccup as a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks. "i want it gone," you whine, futilely scraping at it with your fingernails. in your head, you know it won't do anything. seals are permanent and even a tattoo couldn't cover it — it'd just resurface. in your aching heart, though, the thought of having beomgyu's matching seal makes you sick and you're willing to do almost anything to get it off of you.

"what the fuck is going on here?" a voice you'd recognize from anywhere emerges from the bathroom doorway. soobin. "what happened to you?!"

he's kneeling down to your level and wiping the mascara from under your eyes. yeonjun is still holding your hair back, so it's only a matter of time before the seal catches soobin's eye. it takes him a second to place where exactly he's seen it before, but once he does he murmurs a simple "oh shit."

you'd laugh at the similar reactions from the two boys if you felt anything other than misery at the moment. soobin grabs a rag from god knows where and wets it to tenderly brush around your lips. yeonjun tactfully lets go of your hair and escapes from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. you sit in silence.

"you know, this is a really bad time," he begins awkwardly, "but i want to remind you that the seal stuff doesn't matter to me. i know it matters to you right now, and that's okay, but it doesn't have to be that way forever." it takes you a minute to really process what he's saying and understand the implication behind his words. once you finally do, you're shocked to say the very least.

"do you still like me when i'm like this?" you say, mouth agape, tongue still heavy from the vomit.

"i do," he replies simply.

"really?"

"really, really."

beomgyu knew you felt his pain as soon as you said it, but he didn't know to what extent until he hears you sobbing in the bathroom. the walls are paper thin and you're not exactly quiet, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't straining his ears to ensure he's catching every word. and catch every word he does — even the ones you exchange with soobin — the ones that pierce his heart, and yours, apparently, because you wail when you feel it.

being with soobin is simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing you've ever done. he starts off slowly, as if he's afraid to break you even more than you're already broken. he's patient with you even when you're sad about a certain somebody, and never makes you feel guilty for it.

when you're bawling your eyes out one night and cancel your plans with him, you're surprised to hear a knock on your apartment door, anyway. you look through the peephole and see a familiar figure with a smile on his face. you hurriedly wipe the mascara from under your eyes and pull your hood up to cover your fucked up hair.

"what are you doing here?" you ask once you open the door.

"i was just in the neighborhood and thought you might want some ice cream," he says simply.

you snort. the "neighborhood" in question is a good 20 minutes from his apartment, but you don't ask any questions for fear that he might actually leave.

and so you sit on the living room floor with a movie playing in the background as white noise. you forgo the formalities and both of you are digging into a, frankly, alarmingly large tub of ice cream with nothing but two spoons. he pokes your reddened nose when you eventually start to drift off into space and remember your soulmate doesn't want you. he doesn't ask any questions, either. just boops your nose and you're back to reality and giggling at his childishness.

being with soobin is so easy, so comforting, that when he eventually asks you to be his girlfriend, you say yes.

on graduation day, beomgyu feels an excitement he sincerely did not anticipate. sure, he was happy to graduate, but he had no idea he'd be fucking elated. he has no clue why he's so ridiculously excited when he's honestly not even sure what he'll do after college, but when your name is called to collect your diploma and his heart is racing so fast he feels like it might explode, beomgyu comes to a damning realization: it's not his happiness he's feeling... it's yours.

the revelation is fully enforced when he sees you leaving the stage and hugging soobin. he feels your heart skipping a beat when he watches your fingers lacing with the other man's. he can't quite understand it, but the contentment you feel juxtaposes the sadness brewing inside of him. the sense that something is missing feels more palpable than ever. you walk off with soobin, swinging your interlocked hands while he gently brushes his thumb against your fingers. you don't look beomgyu's way even once, and his eyes start to burn when he realizes that image will forever be seared into his head. he has nobody to blame but himself.

beomgyu can feel your joy now and it makes him sick. he feels the butterflies in your stomach as you slow dance with soobin. feels your first kiss and the thrums of electricity permeating from your lips to your toes. he even feels your excitement before soobin makes love to you for the first time and the pure bliss that comes after. he feels it all and it's enough to make his stomach churn. he wonders if you can still feel his pain, and on some level, he hopes you do. maybe he's selfish, but it would serve as another reminder that he's bound to you and you to him. it doesn't feel like you can, though. how could you be so happy if you felt even a fraction of the weight on his chest? he's drowning every day and you're out playing first comes love then comes marriage with soobin. he's currently looking at your instagram from a burner account (you blocked him on his main) and he's trying to keep his pain tucked carefully behind his ribs, where his heart is, but it's constantly threatening to overcome him. you look different — not bad — just different. you're glowing now, it seems, and your hair is always down. he has a guess as to why that might be, and it pains him to think about it. this must be the yearning everyone, including you, had felt. he supposes he should be happy that you're happy, but he's never claimed to be a good person, and the sight of a picture of you planting a kiss on soobin's cheek is enough to twist the knife in his chest.

notes pt. 2: hi :,) i hope you all liked this one. if not, i'm sorry :,) my pacing is sooo bad but i'm working on it i swear ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ ) feedback is always appreciated!! and yes, there will be a part 2.

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sweatermuppet · 7 months

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What is it like being trans in New Hampshire? I'm trans in Maine and generally consider NH the black sheep of New England when it comes to queer politics. Some of my trans friends consider it a no-stop zone on our roadtrips.

uh it's pretty fine for me. i get kinda sad when people say NH isnt trans friendly (a sentiment ive seen a lot lately). i had an openly transitioning teacher in high school. i had many gay teachers in high school. i was one of the first kids to transition openly at my school & there were a lot of struggles but it was also 6+ years ago & mostly teachers were under-educated & didn't know how to protect me. i got in a fight & suspended over a kid who was transphobic toward me, but i was allowed to use the boy's bathroom & locker room & all of my core teachers were pretty good about using my name & pronouns

i have multiple trans friends, just locally, & know other trans people a little further out in NH from following them on IG. some pretty decent art scenes in various towns & those are LGBT-dense. one of my trans friends started estrogen yesterday (prescription thru informed consent). i will say in my experience, NH healthcare is lacking for transsexuals—it's been easier for me to go thru Massachusetts or NH planned parenthoods, but ive been able to receive treatment fairly easily (cost being one of the only major negative factors)

as for people, a lot of folks kind of don't care? there are of course republicans & conservatives & a disheartening amount of libertarians, but in my day to day, it's mostly "live free or die" & if you're not hurting anyone, it's not too big of a deal. some of the republicans in my life (like friends' dads) have the attitude of "well i don't get it" but they still call me silas & are generally alright with me, aren't hostile towards me

i see trans flags pretty often. i saw a bumper sticker last month that was the shape of NH completely colored in with the trans flag. there are a bunch of coffee shops & bookstores & artsy places nearby i can think of that employ trans people, house trans art, etc

recently, anti-trans & anti-LGBT bills have been introduced & passed in NH. two passed last month, which can be read about here. i saw some pretty disgusting sentiments shared about those bills on twitter when they were introduced. those make it harder to exist here, but it's not impossible & it does not immediately make all residents hostile toward transsexuals. i don't want people to abandon NH because they think it's too far gone or too hopeless. trans people will always exist in every state & every country & every corner, no matter how hostile those places become

people here love me, regardless of how political parties view me. people here fight for me. there are trans people & Black people & disabled people here who are more vulnerable than me who i want to stay & fight for & protect. if you'd like to learn more about diversity in NH & how to protect various human rights, here are some orgs i am familiar with:

NH PANTHERS (anti-racism advocacy & education)

Queer-Lective (art, education, & connection)

Black Lives Matter NH

GLSEN NH (LGBT resources & education for schools/teachers/students)

Reproductive Freedom Fund of NH (abortion fund, sex ed, LGBT advocacy)

603 Equality (LGBT advocacy & education)

Lovering Health Center (reproductive care, LGBT education, gender affirming care for NH, MA, & ME)

Black Heritage Trail of NH (Black history)

ACLUNH (civil liberties + human rights)

#sorry this is so long. this ask made me soooo sad. i was just talking to my roommate abt the NH unsafe mindset the other day #anonymous

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meanbossart · 9 months

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Just gotta say that the way you draw facial expressions is soooo dynamic, and your art makes me grin with equal feral glee when I see it. 🥰

I love your spooky smiley deranged durge, will you tell me more facts about them?

Thank you so much! And YES i certainly can uuhhh lets see

-In my personal canon he has no name, having first assumed to have forgotten it along with everything else and later being told/figuring out that he renounced any in favor of being called Bhaalspawn, Slayer, Death Bringer, Bhaaling, and any number of edgy titles we hear throughout the game lol he did this pre-tadpole to emphasize his birth-right and deny himself any personal identity. He never picked a name for himself post-tadpole and everyone just refers to him as The Drow, Astarion also calls him his usual pet names.

-He's not necessarily one for luxuries but still likes pretty, ostentatious things, especially jewelry. Pre-tadpole DU drow wore them generously, post-tadpole doesn't understand his own fascination, but he likes wearing rings and holds some sentimentality for specific pieces. (he never threw away the "magic" ring he stole from the tiefling child in act 1)

-Every expression of love and affection he had pre-tadpole came out pretty twisted, but with this in mind he very much adored Orin, though you would never guess it from seeing how they interacted with each other.

-The patterned scars on his chest, face and neck were mostly self inflicted (the rest he had Orin's help for). The one's on his arms were an "accident" kinda but he still put them there willingly (and gleefully lol)

-He has a borderline irrational hatred for drow women. He hates drows in general, though mostly because they're uptight and snobby and less so because of, yknow, all the slavery and child killing etc.

-Despite looking evil as hell he's very much morally neutral post-tadpole. He's pretty much a "do what you have to do to survive" kind of guy - and sometimes a "because i want to" kind of guy lol.

-He thinks very highly of himself which makes him overly bold. This got him through the whole campaign and destroying the brain but it also makes him a huge liability LOL its also a source of conflict in his and Astarion's relationship because he lowkey doesn't think Astarion can make it without him - he continuously and completely fails to realize how this is an issue.

-The only other people he has respect for and trusts are Shadowheart, Astarion and Jaheira. Ironically these are all people he didn't get along with well at all at the start.

-He's kind of a hopeless romantic, he's just weird about it. He's pretty much picked Astarion as his person and kind of devotes his life to him now, sometimes to a troubling extent.

-I'm writing a whole story that takes place post-game here where you can gleam a lot more about his character and learn things that i can't share yet because it would be a spoiler hint hint nudge nudge

#ask #DU drow #bg3

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 9 months

Text

31st Story

Part 2

TW: Captivity, implied past torture, blood mention, restraints, mistrust, starvation mention, defiant whumpee, corrupt system, knife

Heyyy! Long-time no see. I blame college 100% because it takes up all my time, seriously. Happy New Year tho 💙

Villain could tell himself he was already used to the cold, hard embrace of the dull rock of his cell, to the claustrophobia-inducing lack of windows, to the fact that the only times he ever got to see the light was when someone walked in to beat him senseless, a feat made incredibly easy with the help of the chains that shackled his wrists and ankles, not allowing for much movement.

He could pretend that being covered in blood and filth, dazed and starving, was nothing to him, that the maddening urge to find out what time it was wasn't gnawing at him torturously.

"In here, wishful thinking is all you are capable of," a sunken-faced, old prisoner had told him before he was thrown into his personal hellhole. He hadn't said anything, but he'd believed the old hag to be weak and hopeless, and thus so was her sentiment.

Right now, all he wondered was if he'd break even faster than that woman might have. The villain screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the chain of thoughts poisoning his mind, but all that did was make him think clearer, every disturbing image he tried so desperately to expel growing clearer and more vivid by the moment.

It was bad enough handling the physical pain, where every time he so much as shifted his form slightly, the tormented muscles in his back would scream in protest. But the physical side was tolerable, compared to being left at the mercy of his mind; a cruel, sinister thing.

So consumed he was in his own reverie, he hadn't even noticed as the door to his cell was unlocked, at least not until the light skirting around the corner had him snapping his eyes open and sitting up.

"This doesn't look good on you," a silky, almost serpentine voice called out.

"Superhero?" he asked, despising the note of trepidation in his voice.

"No. Just her lacklustre twin," she scoffed.

"Vigilante," he deduced with a slight fall of his shoulders in relief. It's not that he believed Vigilante would treat him well, it's just that no one could rival Superhero in cruelty.

"Still ever the genius," she responded dryly.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost desperate. If she was here to torment him, he wanted her to get over with it. It was becoming progressively more difficult to bear the state in which he was in, the one chock-full of waiting and thinning patience, of hoping the pain would start so it could end, that this time would pass faster.

Except it never did.

"It's strange seeing someone normally so high and mighty like this," she attested, dodging his question.

The older version of him would have let out a frustrated snarl and cussed her out for annoying him, but now all he could do was bite his tongue and stare at her with his new resting face, broken and defeated.

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

That was a response, albeit an indirect one. And of course, she wasn't here to hurt him. She was here to make sure he was comfortable, that he was enjoying his five-star stay in this resort in hell.

Sucks to have an army of enemies and not a single semblance of a friend.

He and Vigilante hadn't really had any direct bad blood, but he was a villain locked up in here, so by default, he was supposed to be her enemy, right? It didn't matter who walked in here or whether they knew him or not. They just loved to see him break, to see him, once so relentlessly powerful, reduced to less than nothing. Perhaps it brought them a sort of sick satisfaction, but he didn't know much about satisfaction anymore to judge.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she said casually, like promising him the impossible was some sort of small punishment, nothing to tear himself up about. Maybe she could rival her sister in cruelty.

Without warning, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat, only for him to bite his lip and stop abruptly, trying to clamp a hand over his mouth only for him to remember he was chained up.

Vigilante's face fell, and his own had silent tears streaming down it. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though bricks were raining down on his shoulders and crushing his bones into nothing. His whole being seemed to itch with dread.

"Villain?" Vigilante called out, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

"Just get over with it! Torture me until the floor runs red with my blood, tell me how death is a mercy above vermin like myself, and tell me to take it with a smile. Hit me harder when I can't bring myself to do it. Hit me until I feel all the pain of death but never attain it. Remember my current words as defiance, as another crime I've committed. I think watching me be humbled to the nothing I truly am will entertain you as any show would," he spat, only for regret to colour his features just as fast.

"Damn it. Villain, I don't want to do. . .any of this to you," Vigilante started, careful, trying for a semblance of gentle, something she was never particularly good at. "Like I said, I'm going to get you out of here," she continued again, hoping the stern tone indicated she was serious and not somehow going to torture him.

She'd never particularly liked him, mainly because he'd always been ice-cold, calculated to a point he seemed inhuman at times, no emotion whatsoever showing up on his face, besides a cool smugness. And by virtue of all the terrible things he'd done, all the blood on his hands. And yet, he was far from the worst thing out there, and most definitely not the villain in her story.

"And let's pretend you're telling the truth, which is completely fine by me because any mercy I've ever had here has always been a pretence, a figment of my imagination, you know. What could you possibly gain from this?" He raised an eyebrow, bearing a small resemblance to his usual self. Well, at least there was a slight amount of fight left in him, even if he was clearly holding back tears now.

But the villain's question wasn't completely outlandish. Vigilante did want something from him, but it wasn't a favour he would ever come to hate. "I need your help. My sister may seem like the goddamn tooth fairy to those who don't know better, but we know what her regime is really doing. This isn't about fighting crime, it's about her insatiable addiction to power."

"And where do I belong here?" The villain's voice still held the same disbelieving tone, his shoulders managing to tense even further.

"You're one of the few people who challenged her, Villain. And as much as it pains me to say it, you're a good strategist," she explained, even though she knew she'd barely convinced him in the slightest.

"I can't be the only one fitting that description, but I can be the only one owing you a favour too," he answered. Even if he didn't look half as confident, half as untouchable as before, the criminal was still just as clever. But it also meant he wasn't believing her anytime soon. Still, he wasn't wrong. The villain may not have smelled like roses all the time, but he'd be loyal to make sure they were even; a man of his word.

"What's it gonna be, Villain? Come with me or stay here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, growing impatient.

Well, it didn't make sense for her to give him a choice if she was going to torture him, but sense no longer governed things in his mind, letting a fearful apprehension replace it, no matter how humiliating. The choice could easily be an illusion, another cruel joke in this comedy skit from the filthiest parts of hell.

But it could be a chance, and he was desperate. So desperate he'd risk feeling even further degraded when she laughed in his face and put him through whatever torment she'd have planned.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with trepidation in his eyes. He could already feel the regret tasting like salt on his tongue and the burn of acid at the back of his throat he recognised as shame.

So when the sound of his chains being unlocked rang in his ears, and the vigilante helped him up, the feeling of surprise was palpable.

"I just need to handcuff you while they can see us," she explained, noticing how slowly the villain nodded, mistrust still burning in his eyes.

She didn't like how weightless he seemed against her, barely able to walk. She hadn't fought him much, but she clearly remembered that while his frame was somewhat slender, the villain's build still used to be athletic. It was no surprise he'd deteriorated, but that didn't make his fate any less cruel.

"I'm moving him to the other facility," she announced, practically dragging the half-starved villain with her, the only response being curt nods from the guards.

They were lucky that no one here would dare question Superhero and by default, her sister, if they could even tell the difference between both.

And sure enough, there was an entry documented into the other facility, done with the help of a few handsomely paid workers. And while Superhero wouldn't buy into the lie for long, it would at least make sure she didn’t notice immediately that something was up.

✨️Break✨️

The drive to Vigilante's house was almost torturously long and reeking of the tension of two people who weren't used to each other. The villain ran his fingers over his wrists, now free of handcuffs, but they still hurt. All of him hurt, a constant, dull pain that he was almost used to, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the times where he could remember moments without aches all over his body.

That was only the least of it anyway.

"I think you'd want to clean up," the vigilante had suggested when they'd got to her house.

Instead of an off-hand "yeah" like he'd meant to, the first words that foolishly came tumbling out of his mouth were: "I can?"

This wasn't an option they gave him back there, and soon enough he'd stopped caring entirely.

"Oh," Vigilante had responded, giving him a solemn look. "I mean, yes, of course you can," she corrected hastily.

He nodded, quite literally shoving himself into the bathroom and swallowing down the awkward shame in his throat.

He'd grown so accustomed to pain that he'd barely even noticed the sting of the hot water on his open, practically fresh wounds, or how the shower water underneath him turned a dull pink. He was a lot more focused on how his sore muscles relaxed with the heat, how he seemed to get lighter with all the dirt off him, good sensations having become foreign to him in the time of his captivity.

He walked out to find a change of clothes (his clothes) on the bed in the room outside, catching his reflection in the mirror, bruises lining his cheekbones and jaw and heavy, dark circles underneath his eyes. The villain simply ignored the old memories of himself taking the time to style his hair and care for his skin, his mind hardwired for survival, looking around the room for anything he could use in case he had to defend himself.

Not that Vigilante was stupid enough for that.

Still, if she wished to hurt him, she could've done it faster, could've done it earlier. Maybe the villain wouldn't trust her blindly, but so far, he hated her less bitterly than he hated everyone else.

"How'd you get these?" he asked, walking out, looking down at the black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.

Vigilante shrugged. "From your place."

"You broke into my- whatever." It wasn't the strangest part about the situation now. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think you need to rest," she suggested.

And she was entirely correct, given his exhaustion and how the shower had made him somewhat sleepy, so he nodded his head, walking into "his" room and waiting until she walked up to her room, waiting until he could walk out and check if she'd slept, and once he was sure, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a knife and bringing it to his room.

The villain knew it was scummy, but he wasn't about to risk being hurt again, and if the vigilante truly had good intentions, the knife would never be put to use. Still, the villain had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still better than any night he spent curled up on a cold, hard floor.

Trust is never easy, especially for those who have been hurt one too many times. But people were not made to live forever encased in solitude, a safe option to the blind and foolish, but never a permanent solution. And while taking a risk in times of suffering might seem like a wretched fate, sometimes it is the lifeline you need to breathe again.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 7 months

Note

Jane the Killer,Ben Drowned,Homicidal Liu and Eyeless Jack with Filipina!Proxy!S/O Who Teach Them How to Speak Tagalog? also I Lived in Philippines(so Yeah But Don't Tell Anyone about my Country)

I love getting to write for Liu he's so underrated :(

Also, I am not from the Philippines nor do I know anyone who is so I'm gonna be basing this off of some light research so if I get anything wrong, let me know!

Thank you so much for requesting!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jane The Killer

Jane loves getting to learn about new cultures

She isn't super into learning new languages, but for you, she would love to!

When you start teaching her, she writes little notes in this vintage leather notebook she bought a while ago, she just didn't have a use for it

She also writes all her notes in sparkly purple ink <33

She's surprisingly a very fast learner, she is speaking simple sentences within two weeks

I think that once she is fluent enough in Tagalog, she would mainly use it to gossip about people without other's understanding

Or alternatively, she will whisper romantic things to you in Tagalog

Eventually she will build up enough confidence to send you special love letters when she is away on a long mission

All written in dark purple ink and sealed with a dark purple wax seal, of course

Not only is the sentiment sweet, but she knows that only you will be able to read it, making it even more special to you

In general, she uses her newfound Tagalog ability to fluster you and romance you like the hopeless romantic she is

Ben Drowned

Ben has never really had an interest in learning a new language, and is too lazy to put in that kind of effort

Yes, even for you, as sad as that sounds

BUT! He will ask you from time to time how to say certain things

"Hey babe, how do you say 'stupid cock sucking loser' In Tagalog?

That's kind of a joke

Kind of

Most of the time he will ask how to say things for you

For example

"How do you say 'can I kiss you' in Tagalog?"

He's so stupid, but its ok because he puts his little tiny bit of brain into being there for you

Homicidal Liu

Liu, being Columbian can speak a little bit of spanish himself

It's not much, because his mom only taught him a little bit, but he doesn't really mind

So when you come around, asking if it's alright to teach him your native language, he gets super excited!

A new way for you guys to bond and spend time together? And he gets to learn a new language while doing it? Hell yeah!

He is very enthusiastic about the whole thing

Once he gets enough to put simple sentences together, he tries out saying things in Tagalog just to surprise you

To which you get excited, even if he gets it a little wrong, because you know he's trying

And seeing you get excited gives him the motivation to keep learning the language

He eventually, like Jane, uses this to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that only you would be able to understand

He uses this new pond of knowledge mostly for romantic purposes tbh

He just loves you so much !!

Eyeless Jack

Jack, being the nerd he is, is always down to learn something new

He sat down and learned French once just because he could

He is very rusty now, but if he wanted to order a salad then he totally could

While you are teaching him, he barely talks

All you hear from his end is a bunch of scribbling in a notebook as he writes down every word you say

He also goes out and buys a bunch of books either on or in Tagalog, that way he can study more when you are sleeping, and so he can try out some of the words he's learned in an actual real world experience

Once learning about the language, this puts him down a rabbit hole

He then learns about the history of Tagalog, history of the Philippines, culture and traditions, folktale, food, etc

Which comes as a shock to you when he suddenly asks for you to make Lumpia, or if you can't make it, if you can go out together and get some

He insists that if you go to a resturaunt, that it be one that is actual authentic Philippine resturaunt that way he isn't getting some watered down version of traditional foods

He must know everything about everything

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forestdeath1 · 7 months

Text

Hopelessness

@prongsfoot-microfic

It turned out that this microfic is 1600 words long, so if it's more convenient for someone to read on AO3, here's the link.

It's jilypad.

---

Sirius kisses Lily’s belly, stretched by a muggle T-shirt with Black Sabbath on it, his gift. The air's filled with the light scent of jasmine from the open window, letting in the cool June breeze. Lily isn't really into Black Sabbath, but Sirius hopes the band's symbolism might somehow influence Harry’s musical taste, since he’s got no hope with Lily and James. As Lily recently said, she wears that T-shirt solely because it features a "handsome vocalist" who reminds her of Sirius. Sirius is quite pleased with that outcome.

They're sprawled on a wide sofa under a soft blanket, Sirius snuggled up beside Lily. The quiet of the Potter home, only interrupted by the ticking of antique clocks, always puts Sirius in a peaceful state. Lily gently strokes her rounded belly, while Sirius, with his arm around her waist, draws patterns on her skin, occasionally leaving soft kisses in response to the baby's sharp kicks. James, sitting opposite in a battered chair once favoured by Fleamont, reads the newspaper, his eyes scanning the pages gloomily.

"Oh," Lily exhales lightly. "He's been kicking all day. Extra lively today."

"Harry," Sirius murmurs softly, amazed at the depth of feeling he has for a child not yet born. "My handsome, smart boy."

"When did you get so sentimental?" James asks, not looking up from his paper.

"Since you married this incredible woman and started your own amateur production of 'Tiny Humans.' Even my frostbitten heart had to defrost for the premiere."

"Oh, my love," Lily, smiling softly, reaches out to gently ruffle Sirius's hair, "sometimes I think, what if I'd married you instead of James? How much prettier would my child be?" Lily's light, carefree laughter makes Sirius smile.

"Hey," James perks up, pretending to be offended. "There’s a lot of Blacks. And only one of me. Harry's gonna have the most unique hair in all of Magical Britain."

"And the dullest sense of humour," Sirius shoots back, still focused on the belly, speaking in a teasingly sweet tone as if talking to Harry. "Hopefully, you’ve got a better one. You got a bit short-changed on the genes from one side, but I promise to teach you."

"At least my humour doesn’t make people want to off themselves," counters James.

"You adore my jokes, don't kid yourself."

"Haven't heard one yet."

Sirius flicks his middle finger at James, who just chuckles, then removes his glasses and rubs his nose bridge in mock exasperation.

"Everything alright?" Lily asks him, concern in her voice.

"Yeah," James replies, trying to mask the worry in his voice. "Just going to make some tea."

Rising from his chair and heading to the kitchen, James leaves a trail of unspoken thoughts behind him. Sirius watches him go, and Lily, with a soft sigh, shakes her head.

"He's like this all day. Lost in thoughts about the war. Sticks to me like glue. Fancy taking him out somewhere? Hit a pub? Even stay out all night. He needs to get out more. He can't keep guarding me from God knows what," Lily adjusts a stray lock of Sirius's hair, a simple, familiar gesture.

"Alright, but not tonight," Sirius responds tenderly, kissing Lily's belly one last time before gently running his hand over her soft skin and carefully standing up from the sofa to not disturb her.

"Patrol?"

"Yeah," Sirius glances at the old wall clock, "and I'm already late."

"Why don't you move in with us?" Lily stops him with the question she poses every month.

"Don’t start," Sirius says with a light reprimand. "I'd end up covered in old people's dust here, sipping teas and reading newspapers. Tea? Seriously? When was the last time I drank tea?"

Her laughter, bright and full, fills the room, reflecting off the warm glow of the candles. She could easily shift from a pensive mood to mirth, and really, it took nothing to make her laugh. Lily was always so light, Sirius adored that about her. Like an autumn maple leaf playfully dancing with the wind – always ready to soar at the slightest breeze.

"Come here," she extends her arms, and Sirius leans in, allowing Lily to plant a tender kiss on his lips. "I love you," she looks at him, her gaze filled with care and tenderness, "Be careful."

"You too," Sirius smiles and ruffles her hair. "Look after Harry."

Stepping into the hallway, leaving Lily resting on the sofa, Sirius grabs his jacket from the coat rack and pulls it on, whistling a tune he caught in some noisy muggle café.

"James! I’m off."

James peeks out from the kitchen, holding a pack of tea.

"Not staying for tea?" he asks, knowing the answer already.

Sirius isn't much for tea, yet James has been offering it to him for years. In an attempt to make the drink more appealing, he once even started spiking the tea with Firewhisky. That gimmick worked for a while, but soon not even Firewhisky could dispel Sirius's irritation with the whole tedious, monotonous process.

"No, got patrol."

James looks slightly disappointed, tosses the tea pack onto a table cluttered with books and newspapers, and approaches Sirius.

"Lily suggested we should hit a bar," Sirius mentions.

James shrugs, adjusting his glasses absently.

"I can't leave her alone. Every time I go on patrol, you know it’s torture for me. I keep thinking something might happen, that they might attack our home, and…"

"I know," Sirius cuts him off. "That’s why I’m not inviting you. Just passing on Lily’s words."

James gives a soft smile, tilting his head slightly.

"You’ll come over on Friday?" he asks.

"Yes."

"And stay the night?"

"Of course."

James nods and hugs Sirius, pressing his face to his neck. Sirius leans into his ear, kissing it and breathing in the scent of earthy moss and the morning forest. James's scent always carried the notes of their moonlit adventures, as if his skin had absorbed the essence of those nights. They stand in silence for a moment until the soft hum of an old radio playing a vintage jazz tune Lily adores drifts in from the living room.

"Everything will be alright, James, hear me?" Sirius whispers, probably a bit too roughly patting James on the head as his movements have grown more abrupt lately. "I promise. Everything will be alright. With Lily, with you, with Harry."

"Yes," James says, rubbing an eye then running a hand through his hair. "Of course. It'll be alright. With you too."

"I'm not that important."

"Don't talk like that," James responds in a strained voice.

"I’d do anything for you, whatever it takes," Sirius says in a matter-of-fact tone, as if they’re discussing a Christmas dinner menu, not talking about things people usually don’t say to each other when everything’s fine.

James steps back, looks up at Sirius, and smirks, chasing away the worried shadows from his face.

"Have I mentioned you’ve become sentimental?"

"I've spent too much time around a mushy sod like you," Sirius grins, shrugging. "Bad influence."

James laughs, shoving Sirius's shoulder then pulling him in close, as if wanting to hide away in Sirius's broad embrace.

"I love you, you idiot," he kisses him, fingers threading through Sirius’s hair, tousling it. "Don’t be late on Friday. Lily’s making your favourite blueberry pie."

"I won’t," Sirius breathes out huskily.

James nods, and Sirius steps out the door. The June air hits his face, a warm breeze flicking a lock of hair from his forehead. The scent of night flowers mingles with the smell of fresh paint – someone nearby decided to give their fence a fresh coat.

Sirius moves a few meters away, casting one last glance at the Potters' house. James stands in the doorway, leaning on one shoulder against the frame. Sirius catches his worried gaze and nods subtly in response.

A moment later, Sirius apparates, but James's troubled face lingers in his mind like an echo. Usually, James's face brings peace, but this time it leaves a quiet itch, a reminder that Sirius is missing something, yet can't quite grasp what it is.

The war makes everyone nervous, anxious, and lost, and Sirius knows better than to succumb to these draining sentiments. But seeing those feelings in James – the person who made Sirius believe that even in the coldest winter, there's an unbeatable summer living inside him – Sirius realizes things are grim.

Of course, Sirius will come over on Friday. Perhaps he'll stay for the weekend, and they'll spend it together, like old times, before the threat of war knocked so clearly on their doors. They'll wake up to a late breakfast in the garden, reminiscing about school under the rustling of green leaves and birdsong, and perhaps even making plans for the future where the war is just a distant memory—a future where Sirius already knows exactly how to raise Harry and what gifts to give him from the very first months of his life.

A future where they're together.

After breakfast, they'll apparate to the lake, where James will set up broom races, beating Sirius yet again. Lily, always rooting for Sirius, will put on a theatrical display of disappointment and spend the day cheering him up, recounting for the hundredth time the tales of James's rare Quidditch misplays at Hogwarts—as if Sirius didn't already know each one by heart.

After dinner, James will suggest a game of wizard chess, and Lily will pick out a book to read aloud by the fireplace. Soon, she will head to bed early, as has become more common since she got pregnant, and James and Sirius will go out to the garden, lie on the grass, and spend the night forgetting all worries, remembering that it's moments like these for which they're fighting and ruthlessly suppressing the hopelessness that seeks to consume their souls.

#james potter #sirius black #lily evans #prongsfoot microfic #jilypad #it seems to me this might be too saccharine #prongsfoot

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orenji-iro-no-sora · 11 days

Text

Thoughts on TGCF Vol 3

Vol 1 | Vol 2| Vol 3| Vol 4| Vol 5| Vol 6| Vol 7| Vol 8

*Spoilers*

Arc 2: Heart as gentle as a flower

I didn't talk much about the second arc in the last post because most of everything happened in the third volume and I wanted to keep it all together.

To me, this arc was the hardest to read up till now. I was wishing for it all to end which was a sentiment that took over Xie Lian as well as his confidence in what it means to do the right thing waned with the progression of Xianle-Yongan conflict. While in the beginning, he believed wholeheartedly that saving someone, doing something was still better than nothing at all, by the end of it, it was clear that much of his suffering had been futile.

It truly was a hopeless conflict, I reflected a lot on what could be done, what really is the right thing to do and in the end there were no answers. In the face of destiny, there's not much anyone can do and as the state preceptor said: when humans ascend, they're still humans. Gods are still humans, they don't know better and they can't save anyone. Only people believed that Xie Lian should be invincible. He wasn't and could never be.

I applaud MXTX for her depiction of the events as something genuinely unstoppable with so many factors that it becomes paralysing to take any decisions. Having kindness and compassion for all means that making 'necessary' sacrifices is unacceptable as there's nothing, no act in this world that's wholly beneficial, it'll harm someone or something. There's no pure goodness.

Xie Lian did his best though, all his decisions were deliberate, rooted in his virtue, kindness and his desire to save people. He walked the walk, it just didn't make any difference. He was too young to have faced it all and by the end of it, the exhaustion and the inadequacy of his powers caught up to him.

Death isn't something that is deserved/undeserved, it's not punishment that the innocents must be protected from. It simply is and that I think is the most important lesson here.

Qi Rong and the Human Face Disease

Qi Rong was a nuisance from the start. He really brings out the worst in Xie Lian (sibling effect). Out of everyone, he believed too much in Xie Lian's indestructibility and it's not shocking that he ended up hating him so, commissioning those disrespectful statues, inciting the populace to blame him for it all, burning his mother's corpse and possessing Guzi's father. Hua Cheng's hate for him makes complete sense. Xie Lian feeding him his deathly congee was hilarious though.

I didn't realise the severity of Human Face Disease when it was first mentioned in Vol 1. But arc 2 really presented it as one of the creepiest fictional diseases I've ever read. It's the most horrific manifestation of unjust death and I'm just glad it's not a real life thing.

Mu Qing, Feng Xin and The Three Tumors

Seeing the relationship the Xianle trio shared with each other, I finally understood the awkwardness in their interactions during the first volume. While Feng Xin is fairly easy to understand (loyal, faithful, straightforward), I think Mu Qing is one of the most interesting characters. He's insecure but decisive, he respects Xie Lian but also envies him. To him, the end justifies the means which is in complete contradiction to Xie Lian who wants justice at all levels. There are so many complicated emotions between them and the way they go about it is entertaining to read. I hope they can clear out the misunderstanding as we progress further in the story.

The interactions between the Heavenly Officials, especially the Three Tumors, were unexpectedly funny. Every official is multi-dimensional and has a unique personality. It really offered the much needed light-heartedness after the misery of the second arc. I also really like the Wind Master. He's friendly, even when he messes up in shielding Xie Lian from others (poor guy has bad timings). I am looking forward to how they'll deal with the Reverend.

Side note- Ming Yi focused only on the feast is so me lol.

Hua Cheng's unwavering devotion, first kiss, Ruoye vs eming

I didn't expect them to have met so many times. They really were connected throughout their lives. Out of everyone, I think he was the only one who reciprocated Xie Lian's kindness and consideration.

In my heart, you are god! You are the only god, the one true god! Do you hear me?!”

He fulfilled his promise of building the most extravagant temple for Xie Lian and celebrating him with plays and three thousand lanterns. (XL is the light of his life after all). They're so cute and they finally kissed!! Underwater too!! It was still weird though. Just as weird as Xie Lian's heat from the Land of the Tenders. I don't know what I think about it all except for it reminded me of the awkwardness of Mo Dao Zu Shi.

Another cute thing was Ruoye showing off in front of Eming as he cut vegetables for Xie Lian's poisonous soup (?). Them competing against each other and puffing out when Xie Lian praised them was the highlight for me.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #hualian #xie lian #hua cheng #feng xin #mu qing #shi qingxuan #mxtx #mxtx tgcf #orange pops #heaven official's curse on me #ruoye #eming #e ming

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rockwgooglyeyes · 1 month

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okay so daz (@m1zisua) inspired me to write about an ivantill song because i dunno im bored (i've been writing fic. and i need a break. gimme my analysis). the song is pristine by snail mail (which is just on my ivan playlist but i need to add to my till playlist because it actually works for both of them lmao)

"I'll never get real" Ivan won't ever tell Till the truth about his feelings. He doesn't want this to be real because he, like Till, is afraid of vulnerability and rejection albeit for different reasons. Ivan is afraid of the confirmation of his fears whereas Till is afraid of vulnerability because it's weakness and if he's vulnerable, he can get hurt.

"And you'll never change to me 'cause I'm not looking, anyways." Till's love for Mizi won't change because, as much as he's looking, his view of her is unaltered. She's still that naïve little girl to him, hopeful and unbroken by their circumstances, and he doesn't want her to change from that. He wants her to stay the same because in his mind, she still has that hope that was forcefully ripped away from him. He may disdain weakness, thinking himself better than it, but at the same time, he wishes he could go back and be ignorant of cruelty again.

"And if you do find someone better, I'll still see you in everything, tomorrow and all time," Ivan believes that Till won't ever return his feelings and knows this to be true in his heart of hearts (I don't necessarily agree with him but it's his belief. whatever). He knows that Till will find someone one day, after he's moved on from Mizi, and that he'll love someone else. Ivan doesn't even think of himself as an option but even so, he'll still be in love with Till. That won't have changed, he'll still see Till in everything, always. (The lyrics in the chorus "And I know myself and I'll never love anyone else, I won't love anyone else, I'll never love anyone else" echo the same sentiment. Such an Ivan chorus goddamn)

"If it's not supposed to be, then I'll just let it be" Ivan giving up before he even starts because he doesn't think that Till loves him back and he doubts even experiencing reciprocation. "Be honest with me," "Who's top of your world? And out of everyone, who's your type of girl?" Despite believing that reciprocation is impossible, Ivan still wants to know what Till likes, and he hopes that he's important to Till, even if it isn't in a romantic way (which we know that Ivan is, from the graduation message). (Also this is Till being desperate to be apart of Mizi's world, which he is, he just isn't in the way he wants to be)

"It doesn't have to be this hard, I could be anyone but I'm so entwined, and out of everyone, who's on your mind? No more changes, I'll still love you the same" Ivan knows that he's making this more difficult than it needs to be. Both Ivan and Till are in too deep with their respective love interests, they know that it doesn't have to be the way that it is, and yet here they still are. The last line is more Ivan oriented, though, insofar as "no more changes, I'll still love you the same" which is a representation of Ivan loving Till, changes included, as opposed to Till who actively doesn't want Mizi to change.

The thing that's so interesting is that looking at them through the lens of this song actually makes certain things jump out at me more- Ivan's openness to Till changing v. Till's opposition to Mizi changing, Ivan's love being far more hopeless as opposed to Till who is still trying to confess/show his love to Mizi (in Round 2), neither of them have told the person they love about their emotions but for Ivan that's a choice and with Till it's inability. It really juxtaposes them, Ivan loves Till unconditionally and doesn't expect anything in return, while Till loves Mizi for a very specific reason (not that he knows that) and the only reason he hasn't told her is his own social ineptitude. Till is proactive, trying to make something happen despite himself, whereas Ivan is happy with what they have, more trying to preserve it than anything else.

#rock is back with his ivantill song posting im sorry #they drive me crazy! they make me unbelievably sad :(#alnst #alien stage #ivantill #alnst ivan #alnst till #snail mail #alnst mizi #because she's mentioned #rocktalks

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plumadot · 4 months

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Hopefully you can find it, I dont think there's many playlists on spotify called "Bard Scar". I hope you don't mind me using your art for the cover, I'll change it immediately if you do mind!

And please let me know what you think of the song selection 0v0

I FOUND IT. AND LISTENED TO THEM ALL (and using the art is fine!!!!!!!!!! <3)

gfjdkgjfdkg ok hmmmmmm

i really like "burn butcher burn" on this. because at the start i was like "this is to the secret keeper". but it's not. it's to his former self. he wants to burn that "persona" because he's someone different now. and if that person ever comes back he'll ruin everything. that's what i think now and it gave me chills hehe

"city of stars" but it's the city of boatem gkfdjgkf some place where they all wanted to make it big, but it just didn't work out that way... and they found home in each other instead. and maybe they can work with that!!!!! for a while...

"don't you dare" is so interesting because. objectively this should be a thing. but i don't think he sees grian this way!!!! he genuinely wants to get closer to this lit fuse of a guy kgjfdkgjf he doesn't care about getting hurt very much. though this could be a thing after he's spilled his secrets and thinks he's lost his partner because of it kgjfdkgj anyway i like it hehe

"noel's lament" is interesting because i like the over-all sentiment kgjfdkgj "i choose to burn out rather than fade away" nods nods nods this bard desperately wants to mean something

"everything i ever thought" is so GOOD gfdkjgkfdg "i wonder who i am" nfgdskjjsfkg baaaaaaaah idk what to say very very good also a good bard song in general i think hehe

BATTLE CRYYYYY,,,,,,, shakes you!!!!!!!! this is the answer to "i wonder who i am", the "i choose to burn out rather than fade away"!!!!!! it's all coming together!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's going to give it his all because that's who he is!!!!!! i keep thinking about laudna from critical role campaign 3 saying something like "the worst thing that'll ever happen to me has already happened" and i think scar has a similar mindset to that. his world has already fallen apart in the strangest way so he'd better try his best as a whole new person!!!!! and he loves his guys very very much

"allies or enemies" hehe are we fighting i guess we're fighting gkfjdgkf it's honestly just a matter of time before things fall apart between all of them (not just with grian) gkfjdkg they have very different goals and mindsets and backgrounds and even though they all care about each other they are very guarded. so i. i really like this one mhm

i'm not entirely sure why pike trickfoot is there but i super love pike so YAY

"ashes" is such a good tavern song i can totally see him performing it in between his merry repertoire and the whole tavern going quiet for it... because yeah... there's more to this free-spirited bard than meets the eye huh fjdkgjfd it's so interesting i really like it

TAVERN BRAWL GJFDKGJFDK YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES i wanna say this one is just for me i love vox machina gfjdkgjkf but YO this is such a good bard battle song in particular yes i love it

also i wanna say the amount of "can't help falling in love" is really funny because yes to me this man is a hopeless romantic in every sense of the word, not just romantic love. he has a romantic sentiment towards the world in general!!!!

SO YEAH. WHAT AN ESSAY I APOLOGIZE KGJFKDJG I HOPE YOU CAN SEE THAT I LOVE IT???? :D :D :D THANK YOU FOR THIS PLAYLIST AHHH IT'S SO FUN THANK YOU I HOPE YOU LIKE MY THOUGHTS TOO /sweats

#ask #plume dnd au #i just like having it in the tag i think

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hexiewrites · 1 year

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on romcommunism, bisexual ted lasso, and the mumford-and-sons of it all

TLDR: this ENTIRE SHOW is about subverting expectations, expecting one thing and ending up with another, trying and trying and trying and ending up with something you never expected but is exactly what you need.

I've been thinking about this a lot, especially in regards to the amsterdamn episode which I think is the show finally 'coming out of the dark forest' so to speak, so I wanted to revisit the romcommunism speech and how it interacts with the theme song and with the other mumford references I see throughout the show, and why I think it points to a possibility of bi!ted, or at least, of a ted ending entirely different than what the majority is expecting it to be.

first off, as a reminder, the rom-communism speech from season 2 episode 5:

"If all those attractive people ... can go through some light-hearted struggles and still end up happy, then so can we. (...) Gentleman, believing in Rom-Communism is all about believing that everything's gonna work out in the end. Now these next few months might be tricky. But that's just 'cause we're going through our dark forest. Fairytales do not start, nor do they end, in the dark forest. That's something that only shows up smack dab in the middle of a story. But it will all work out. Now it may not work out how you think it will, or how you hope it does, but believe me. It will all work out. Exactly as it's supposed to. Our job is to have zero expectations, and just let go."

I've highlighted one of the most important parts of this speech for my analysis here, because when @stevecarrington and I were discussing it they pointed out where that sentiment comes into ted lasso again and again and again:

sound familiar? yup! it's right out of the theme song itself.

I have a lot of feelings about the theme song in general, but specifically the fact that it's... it's not exactly a sitcomedy theme. it's not actually a hopeful song on first read through, but it also kind of is. because one of the unfortunate and inexplicable truths in life is that it's pretty much assured that you might not get what you want, but, as the rolling stones and the season 3 trailer itself tell us, you can't always get what you want, but if you try some time you just might find you get what you need

I'm viewing this very much from a point of, Ted is going to find what he needs this season. he doesn't know yet what that is (winning the whole damn thing? moving back to his son?) but it's our job as the viewers to have no expectations, to not assume that things are going to work out in any specific way but that they will work out. and that you're going to keep trying, you're not going to know what to expect, and what you end up with may be something entirely different than what you thought when it started.

(kind of like having a giant bi awakening, no?)

I also have a lot of personal feelings about mumford and sons (and marcus mumford's) influences on ted lasso. I've started writing that post a hundred times but it's kind of a mess so I haven't posted anything (in the meantime, go watch the hopeless wanderer video, which exists because jason sudeikis is a close friend of marcus mumfords), but the one I come back to over and over is the song believe, and how the lyrics fit so perfectly into this romcommunism concept to the point that I think the entire central theme of the show is built off of mumford&sons lyrics:

and again. this drags it home so hard for me, on all of this. I could do a literal dissertation on what I think are other major mumford and sons influences on the show but this post isn't that. instead, I just want you to think about how the believe lyrics fit in with everything we're seeing. "your world's not all it seems" <- ted is not all he seems. he doesn't know if he believes yet, he needs someone who can "open up [his] eyes, tell [him he's] alive" and it needs to be someone who communicates openly, who talks to him

ted doesn't yet know if he believes. and he might not get what he wants (his marriage to be fixed, an easy relationship, an ending where everything is perfect), but he is going to get what he needs. he is going to try, and try, and we as the audience will go in with zero expectations and trust that it is going to work out.

I think different people will read this differently, but to me, it's a great subversion of the obvious idea that ted and rebecca are going to end up together. the cast has already said again and again that people seem to expect tedbecca to be A Thing, partially because they're both attractive, or they're both leads, because romcoms have trained us to expect this. ted is in a lot of ways some of what rebecca has been in need of, and there are some great posts about rebecca as the rom com heroine and what that means for her arc. but for me, the writers and cast saying that their relationship is strictly platonic, that they're brother and sister, is an excellent example of 'you can't always get what you want, but if you try you get what you need'. they might have some thoughts, they might start to think they'd be right for each other, and they are, but not in the way we might be primed to expect.

what ted and rebecca both NEED in each other is that confident. that platonic love and support that they're both craving in a lot of ways. sure, ted has some of that with beard, and rebecca has some of it with keeley. but their relationship, their connection, is so powerful to me from a platonic place, and this season is going to show them that's what they need from each other and always have.

and what ted needs is someone who can open up his eyes, who can, as mumford say in "white blank page" (which is also a very ted coded song):

he needs someone who can lead him to the truth.

perhaps... someone we might not expect? someone who built his career on finding the truth, and who destroyed it to do just that, to give ted the truth even at the cost of his job and the life he had built?

perhaps now that we've come out of this dark forest, we're going to start to see those expectations shifting, and we're going to see ted get exactly what he needs, even if he doesn't yet know what he wants.

(I want to be clear that I think you can also view this very strongly from the angle of 'ted does not need to end the show in a romantic relationship, he just needs to surround himself with love and truth and platonic support' and truly I think that's more likely to be what we actually see. I just couldn't help the tedtrent implications slipping in a little at the end here.)

#this post is honestly a mess im so sorry enjoy???#ted lasso #bisexual ted lasso #mumford and sons #ted lasso is mumford and sons fanfiction no i wont say more #ted lasso season 3 #trent crimm #kind of at the end there #tedtrent #tedependent #sorry for this mess of a post #what am i doing

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

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Hiii

ik your requests are closed but if you have time n feel up to it, could you write a fic, blurb or even just head canons about how Frank would celebrate you and your birthday? Hes seems like the “anything you want is yours” kinda guy, even if it’s getting coffee then spending the day at home he would still make it special. Its my birthday haha and i dont want a big celebration just a low key day doing little things i love with the ppl i love. Omg this is sappy hahah but yeah if you have the time, thank you!! And I totally understand if you dont ❤️❤️

-Max 💥

OMG ANGEL

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAX !!! ❤️

my fic requests are currently closed, but i'd be more than happy to whip you up a little birthday treat! i'm gonna go with a headcannon if that's okay bc I have a lot of thoughts about frankie & birthdays I don't think I can properly translate into a blurb right now so please find my rambling below the cut :)

frank castle & your birthday

frankie strikes me as someone that is a hopeless romantic at heart, and I feel like his love language is physical touch but also acts of service. I think we've seen that he pays a huge attention to detail, so he might not go like all out for your birthday, especially if he knows you prefer something small and intimate, but he would definitely make sure it felt special

he would probably start by taking you to your favorite coffee shop, getting you a little birthday breakfast treat with your coffee, and it would probably be the one time he doesn't criticize your drink order (he definitely thinks plain black coffee is real coffee) or comment on how much espresso you added to it (i'm on that pedro pascal shit myself, & I know the only time frankie wouldn't give me shit about it is my birthday bc he's legally required to be extra nice that day)

"you're gonna be hoppin' around like the goddamn energizer bunny with all that. it's your day though. get what you want, sweetheart."

he would insist that you sit down at one of the cute little tables so you can enjoy your coffee and little breakfast together, while you try to get hints from him about what he has planned (he'd resist as long as he could but it's really hard for him to say no to you)

I could see him taking you to do something that you had been begging him to do for awhile. something he kept putting off, or there wasn't time, or he acted like he didn't wanna go, but really he was just saving it for your special day. maybe a trip to an art museum, the aquarium, some botanical gardens, or the zoo even

or maybe a romantic stroll through central park. he'd bring a blanket and your favorite book, let you cuddle up in his lap as he read to you, play with your hair and point out all the cute dogs you saw to each other

even though he'd already gotten your birthday gifts weeks ago, he'd take you to your favorite store and let you pick out anything you wanted

"what? i'm not allowed to spoil my girl on her birthday? if that's a crime, it sure ain't the worst one i've ever committed."

as far as the evening, I see it going two ways: frankie either makes a reservation at your favorite restaurant and invites your closest friends and family to keep it intimate, or he surprises you with a special dinner he cooked himself (your favorite meal) along with a homemade birthday cake (it might not be the prettiest, but it would be delicious) because we know frankie can throw down in the kitchen

if you went out for dinner, he would insist on giving you your gifts & card at home because they're special and sentimental and he's shy when it comes to things like that, and he likes it better when those moments just consist of the two of you

if you had dinner at home, he would roll his eyes when you begged him to sing you happy birthday, but he would oblige because he can't tell you no

"alright, fine. but you're patchin' up your own ears when they start bleedin'. you know I can't sing for shit."

he would ask you several times throughout the day if you were having a good birthday, because he wants to make sure that you are because he thinks you deserve nothing less than as close to perfection as he can provide

he'd also continuously tell you how pretty he thought you were and how much he loved you and how lucky he felt to get to spend your special day with you

I could see him putting your favorite song on and asking you to slow dance with him in the living room to it, drawing out every single minute of your birthday all the way up to 11:59 and making sure you spent every second of it feeling loved and special

"today's one of my favorite days. know why? cause it was the day you were brought into this world, and I think that deserves a goddamn celebration. happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you."

#happy birthday max !!! 💥#frank castle #frank castle request #frank castle headcanon #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher headcannon #the punisher x you #the punisher x reader

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ravetillyoucry · 5 months

Text

PUPARIA

Chapter 13 - No More Like That

prev - chapter 1

Seventy nine hand written notes. That was around four per day being delivered to Hosah's home address.

Every single one showed a new side to the killer, some detailing their warped view of the world around them, how angry they were, how upset and hopeless it all made them, others listing minute facts about Hosah's daily life that he himself barely took notice of, the things he did unconsciously and without realising. It was cases like these that the shifter found the most difficult, because he was able to empathise with the sick and depraved.

People like this didn't deserve sympathy, a phrase Hosah had heard time and time again, but there was something so uniquely wrong with the stalker that he just couldn't help but see the situation from all kinds of different angles. These kinds of monsters aren't just born sick, surely.

One note stuck out in particular, the rest were quite lengthy, taking up both sides of the pages they were written on, but this one was just a few words in a Get Well Soon card, 'Stop hurting yourself, and I'll stop hurting others'. A sentiment Hosah had found himself extremely familiar with, stop this self destructive behaviour, for me?

These statements meant little, if anything, to the shifter. He didn't get himself into shitty cycles of abuse for the people around him, it was all completely selfish, therefore only a selfish motivation could convince him to quit it, surely. The truth was, Hosah hated himself more than he loved others. He saw all the beauty in everyone around him, blinded by the rays of light that excreted from every stranger he passed on the street, it was his innate ability to find the ugliest parts of himself that made him able to see the desirable parts in others with such ease.

Hosah was only about half way through the pile of letters that had been left on his doorstep over the past few weeks, and he wasn't sure if he could continue to sit and read for much longer.

"These are fucking delusional.." Teddy wheeled around on his chair as he flicked through the few shorter notes in his hands, "I still can't believe you haven't been told to stay home, you know, for your safety."

If there was one thing Jules wasn't going to do, it was care about her employees livelihoods,

"Well, I'm their golden ticket to luring this guy in. Human bait, if you could even consider me that." The words scattered throughout the writings had started to seep their way into the shifter's psyche, his humanity becoming more and more debatable by the second.

Hosah laughed as he spoke, but looking back up at his assistants face, he could tell the giant was being deadly serious with his previous statement.

Teddy leant in, keeping his voice down, "We should chase Boss up on that. It's not right, keeping you coming back here, I mean they know where you work, where you used to live, it's only a matter of time before they follow us back to my place."

"There's no point. I can't lose this job, I.. Where else would I go?"

"She wouldn't fire you. She can't do that."

"But she would, she will, you don't understand," Hosah felt his throat tighten with every word he said, his big brown eyes now glossed over with tears.

"What don't I understand? Please, I want to know why you're so scared to stand up for yourself here." Although the words on paper seemed cocky, the tone in Teddy's voice was about as pure and genuine as it could get.

"There's nothing for me here. Jules did me a huge favour even considering giving me a job here, it's a miracle I like doing it and I like the people here. What other place in the city do you know that'd take on someone who can't do shit half the time?"

The pit of hopelessness in terms of making a living in this world was one Hosah had long found himself falling down, an endless rabbit hole of despair that the shifter would most certainly never have the ability to escape from. Sure, this job sucked, he had seven day work weeks for most of the year, he became the target of the depraved and disturbed, he was financially and probably psychologically abused by his boss in some way, but this was his only choice in society. You help the people in the same situation as you, or you sit around in suffering, waiting for someone else to come and save you. And if there was one thing in the world Hosah valued over anything, it was feeling like a hero.

Teddy sat in the quiet of the room for a moment, the cogs in his brain turning, leaving his face visibly deep in thought about whatever in the world Teddy thinks about.

".. Do you think people would pay a lot for your paintings?"

The question was a ridiculous one, one with an obvious answer, so obvious in fact that Hosah almost laughed out loud upon hearing it.

"God, no. I'd be lucky if anyone took any of them during a burglary." If that was the case, the shifter had struck gold with his stalker.

"I'm being serious, Hosah, your paintings are really amazing. I bet you could make a living just from selling those alone."

"I'm not giving up my likelihood to pursue some.. fantastical dream career path." In all honestly, it was the consistency and the routine that Hosah was more bothered about having to give up.

Despite all of the negatives in the field, being a detective gave Hosah purpose. It gave him a reason to get up and to take the subway every morning, because if he didn't, who would be there when one of his brothers or sisters in this world needed him?

"I didn't say you had to, over the weekend, let's go to.. I don't know, where do you even sell paintings, an art gallery? Let's go to a gallery and sell them one of your pieces."

The idea truly did sound lovely, and the thought of being praised by a professional in the field was one the shifter was particularly keen on, but simultaneously, the fear of judgement and criticism was overwhelming. The fear of not knowing what the people at the gallery would say was truly terrifying, and Hosah knew terrifying to its core.

The shifter sat silently, eyebrows furrowed as he weighed up his options. All of the pros and cons, which paintings would he even want to sell at all, what he'd do if things were to either go incredibly good or devastatingly bad.

The quiet of the near empty office space left Teddy with a feeling of unease, an urge to fill the void with whatever words came to his mind first,

"If you still like the idea of going back to Colorado and getting a quiet place together, it'd be best to start the saving process sooner rather than later."

Of course he still liked the idea, it was one he went back on a thousand times in a day, obsessing over the tiny details, making sure everything in his brain's personal palace was just as he'd left it.

Returning to the islet when things were too much in the real world was something Hosah did far more often than he'd like to admit. The term maladaptive daydreaming had been thrown around a couple times when he was a teenager, but he preferred to not really think in medical terms when it came to his brain's activity.

Being zoned out in his own little world was the shifter's safe haven. In that little boat on his way back from fishing all day, laying out for a moment, feeling the sun bask down onto his bare skin, even the summer's bugs couldn't bother him in this universe. Instead of paying attention to his reality, he would listen to the soft breeze against the lake, the bubbling of the fishes below the surface, tracing his fingertips across the cool water under the wooden structure he lay afloat in.

That was the hardest part of this decision, if he were to make his escapist fantasy a reality, would it be all he'd made it up to be in his head? Would it live up to his expectations? How could he be expected to share his dream with someone else, would Teddy even appreciate it like he did? It would probably ruin his entire existence if his only coping mechanism was to be ruined, he needed his cabin on the lake to survive even a day in this world.

"... We can think on it more later." was Hosah's answer. He couldn't help it, suggesting grandiose ideas far too soon just to weasel out of them when the prospect of them becoming reality brought back up again.

Sometimes Hosah wished for him to become comatose, or maybe a hollow, lifeless shell of himself only kept alive by breathing machines, just so he could retreat back into his own mind, living in that little cabin on the lake, without having to actually commit his physical form to the life. Locked-in syndrome didn't sound too bad at all.

The following Friday night was unusually quiet, the shifter was expecting a big bang after the fiasco that was the previous day, but it was all so eerily mundane. There was nobody waiting in the dark corners of the tunnels Teddy walked through on his way back to the, now shared, apartment. There was nobody tailing behind them as they approached the building itself. It was as if the stalker wasn't real at all, the entire situation being a massive, long lasting nightmare that Hosah had mistaken for reality.

As he sat on the same pillow he lay on previously, the shifter wondered why he should even be worrying in the first place. Sure, maybe he heard his name being said in large crowds or in the queue at a cafe, maybe he felt eyes on him constantly, even when completely in isolation, but when he really payed attention, it was evident that he truly was just alone. Who even had the time, or, as a matter of fact, who even had the patience to sit and watch his boring old life anyway.

Each note they had left gave such precise detail, facts only Hosah himself could know, things he hadn't even realised he did, the more they added up, the more unsure the shifter felt. It was stupid, there was cold hard evidence that there was someone following his every move, but Hosah couldn't help but doubt himself and the whole situation. Imposter syndrome was something just about everyone experienced, but this was to a whole new level. Being so separated from your own achievements that it even spreads out into the acts that are working against you, inadequate of deserving even the harshest abuse.

All of these questions, but the most prominent one being, why him? Not in a self pitying way, not in a way that would imply he was too good to be treat in such a manner, but why did he of all people on this planet attract such intense fixation. There was nothing truly amazing or special about Hosah, any of his coworkers would've probably been much more interesting to observe under a microscope, so why him?

Hosah was so lost in his confused daze, he spoke without even realising it, "I'm scared it's something I've made up in my head."

"Sorry?" Teddy, who was half way across the room, asked for clarification on what the, barely legible, words his roommate had just said exactly were.

"I'm scared none of it is real."

"..What isn't real?" The giant sat beside the throw pillow, his voice much softer now,

"The person stalking me. Why won't they do anything. I don't... I just need them to do something to my face, to know I'm not crazy." Hosah's arms covered his face as he went on, hiding his mixture of fatigue and fear that littered his pathetic expression.

"I can vouch for you, that whoever it is that's out to get you, is definitely real... Not- Not to scare you of course, but, I mean, there's no denying it really."

"I just need to run away and forget any of this ever happened. I need to forget New York, forget everything that came before it too, I just- I need to get out, you know?" The shifter rambled, rolling his body closer to the pale, coarse hand beside him.

"Can I come with you, or does 'any of this' include me?" Teddy joked, but the twinge of sadness in his voice gave away how he was truly feeling.

Hosah thought for a second, wondering if his genuine thoughts would be a little too intense to unload onto his assistant,

"I don't want to be too much but," The shifter sat up, a much more serious look about him than before, "I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I left without you."

Despite their last topic of conversation being quite dark and terrifying, this comment couldn't help but turn Teddy's concerned look into an uncontrollable smile.

The lack of verbal response from his roommate made Hosah feel as if he had to fill the air with clarification on his last statement,

"I mean, I think..." How to word exactly how he felt was the main issue,

"I think I'd spend the rest of my life wondering 'What if'. What if I said this, what if I did this differently, what would've happened if I stayed. That would really mess with my head. We have.. something. And I don't want to run away from it, for once."

The shifter's face progressively reddened as he spoke, unable to control what he said as he suddenly found exactly how to address how he felt toward the giant.

An air of stillness and anticipation filled the cluttered room, with Teddy's face being hard to read at best, whatever the giant was thinking, it was a mystery to Hosah. It was as if he was transported back into the elevator where they first met, as the shifter longed for him to just say whatever thoughts he was having in that moment.

After what felt like an eternity, Teddy just laughed, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Damn. How low is the bar?

Hosah was stuck between a 'You're welcome' and a 'Thank you', instead deciding to just not say anything at all.

-~-

The art gallery was weirdly quiet, to say it was the weekend and New York was in fact the world's first mega city, at least. Most people were probably tending to the consequences of their Friday night, managing some of the most indescribably unpleasant hangovers you could think of. Hosah was glad to be in an art gallery at twelve o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, knowing if he were to go back a year or two in time to this exact date, he'd probably be in the other boat.

He'd never actually been to this particular establishment, or really any galleries at all during his stay in the city. In order to calm his nerves for when it came down to actually trying to sell one of his paintings, Teddy had agreed to do a quick look around at all the other pieces first.

Hosah sat in the scarf as he had been doing much more recently, his top half poking out so he could still actually see as they toured around. One exhibit in particular caught the giant's attention it seemed, as he turned down the corridor labelled 'Shifter History Exhibit' with a big arrow pointing in the direction they were headed.

The shifter had never really been all that interested in history, especially when regarding how he would've been treated fifty or a hundred years ago, but seeing himself reflected in the renaissance era was a cool thought.

It wasn't like being a shifter was a new concept, given that the gene had existed long before humans had the resource to log any medical records or research, but it was a foreign idea to treat those with the condition with the same respect you would just any person on the street. Hosah didn't get it. If they saw him on his commute to work every morning, they wouldn't think twice to consider whether he truly had the status to consider himself human, but when he was shrunken, that was an entirely different story.

He could've sat and gotten himself annoyed at the absurdity of how people treat their peers for their differences, but it would've been a waste of time. Instead, Hosah lifted himself back out from under the scarf to take a look around.

The piece Teddy had been looking at was one of those weird little macabre medieval tapestries, where, despite the gory imagery, everyone seemed to have the same neutral dead-pan expression. This one in particular wasn't bloody at all, though. A lady and her tiny child, it seemed. Unlike all the other pieces from this dark age period in the gallery, this particular painting was very sweet. It made Hosah think there was a time in the past where not everyone like him felt as if they were aliens or unusually sentient creatures that just so happened to share a lot of features with their human counterparts.

Looking at all the tidbits of history that surrounded him, the shifter was reminded of his middle school education. Everyone in his class turning and looking at him as the topic of shifters came up in their history classes, learning that, if he were to be born in a different era, he would've been nothing more but a piece of entertainment to the people around him.

The killer wasn't doing anything unheard of when he'd used the anti-growth drug for shifters that go giant rather than shrinking on the sort of shifters on the opposite end of the spectrum, in fact, its a common practice even in todays age, where human trafficking amongst shifters was almost to be expected if you let too many people know what you are.

"I always really liked this era of art." Teddy sighed, the few people also in the exhibition probably thinking he's crazy as he was seemingly speaking to himself, "Makes me happy to think that humans have always made silly art in silly cartoon-ish styles."

"I think they just were all kind of shit at drawing. Too busy, I don't know, slaying dragons or whatever." The shifter observed, ready to move on from the specific painting.

The giant laughed, still fixated on the piece as he spoke, "Who do you think was the one who painted it, the mother or the child?"

"Read the context under it, I don't know."

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Although Teddy was joking, it was very true, the shifter couldn't sleep at all the night before, it was having its effects on his attitude.

Instead of apologising for his rudeness, Hosah decided to stay silent as his assistant to read out the little plaque that sat under the painting,

"Painting by Misery Carpenter in collaboration with her son Connie. Gothic illumination art estimated to have been created from as early as the year twelve hundred up to twelve fifty."

Hosah stopped to really look at all of the minute details, realising that, yes, this was indeed a collaboration piece it seemed.

“Looks like her son painted himself, whilst she painted herself. To scale probably, it’d be hard to get all of those details with giant hands.” The shifter observed, lifting himself further out from under the fabric to look closer.

“Seems that way,” Although Hosah couldn’t see Teddy’s face from where he sat, he could tell the giant was smiling as he said that.

The pair took in the painting in all of its newfound glory, Teddy realising that he had more to say on it that he’d initially thought,

"Isn't it weird how we just sort of stopped giving our kids names like that? When I was younger, I used to walk around graveyards a lot, just looking at all the headstones, there were so many names like that, one I always remembered was a woman called Morning Star, from the eighteen hundreds."

His rambling sort of put the shifter at ease, little things that would've gotten on his nerves a few minutes ago were now able to be overlooked, filling him with a weird urge to actually apologise for his sour mood, which was something he'd never felt the need to do before.

"..That is weird. Sorry I've been out of it all day, I'm just nervous." It was true, Hosah was very, very nervous to find out whether his art was truly worth what his assistant had exaggerated his skills to be.

Finally, the giant moved on from the creepy painting, heading toward a glass casing filled with the tiniest pottery one could imagine,

"It's okay. We can always try a smaller scale place if that'd make you feel better. Maybe go to a marketplace first, where people aren't gonna instantly think critically, you know?"

Uninterested in seeing any more, Hosah retreated back into the security of the scarf, "Yeah, that sounds good."

It could’ve been out of doubt for the shifter’s talents, or it could’ve been out of genuine care for his nerves, either way, Hosah appreciated the sentiment and would much rather prefer his pieces hang on the wall for someone to wake up to every morning rather than have hundreds of people observe it briefly every day.

Still, in supposedly peaceful and safe moments like this one, Hosah couldn’t help but get his mind stuck on the person who had been following him. A sudden and unprompted wave of guilt washed over his entire form as he came to the terrible conclusion that, this could all be some kind of trick. Something to throw the detectives off the killer’s trail, something to get them so worked up and paranoid about that they run away from the investigation.

“It’s a red herring,” The shifter muttered, frantically trying to get his assistant’s attention.

Rightfully, Teddy was confused, “They just look like ceramics to me.”

“Not- not that, the notes, the package, the gun, the breaking and entering. They’re not after me to kill me, necessarily, they’re trying to throw us off of the case. Get us too worried about my safety to work on it.”

“You think?” The uncertainty in the giant’s voice was nothing but agitating to the stressed shifter, “Seems like a lot of effort to go to, lots of research, lots of time writing the letters,”

“I’m serious. I’m- It all adds up. It’s all- It’s not- I don’t know. They’re never really here, no real true physical threat, it’s always leaving trails and shit behind my back. I don’t know, I’m probably not-“ Hosah rambled, before an interjection,

“No, I trust you. I think we should look into the idea more, before we make any rash decisions.” Although Teddy’s logic was appreciated, an input from the shrunken detective’s higher up, Jeanne, would’ve probably been more useful to him in that moment.

That was the thing with Jeanne, he could tell you the sky is purple and you’d stop to consider his point. He was blunt, his words often having no tone at all as he said them, but that’s what made him come off as such a credible source. That, and his years of expertise.

“.. You’re right. You’re always right. Can you just tell me what to do, step by step, for the rest of my life?” Hosah sighed, a twinge of restlessness in his voice as he spoke, curling himself back up in the crook of the neck, beneath all the layers of the deep red fabric that complimented the giant’s cool toned skin and auburn hair.

Teddy laughed at him, as he usually did when the shifter said stupid shit, like his previous statement, “I don’t know, I think I’d prefer if you made your own choices.”

“I don’t want to anymore. Just direct me, I’d live better that way.” The thought of never having to think for himself again was quite the peaceful one, in Hosah’s opinion.

Maybe the theory was one the shifter had come up with exclusively to put his mind at ease, but in the brief moments where he believed maybe, just maybe, every piece of real and raw evidence stacking against his idea was all just to distract him from the truth, he could finally breathe.

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #Puparia_tag #g/t author #g/t writing #Stinker #What will happen next.. I wonder 😮

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