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tumblingxelian · 7 months ago

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Sorry this took so long, busy days, anyway, thanks for the response!

Hahaha, that is also fun XD

The Kwami are indeed bound and it is fucked up. I tend to be a little gentle on the concept if not the Order, if only cos the Kwami don't seem "as" bothered by it as they otherwise should be.

Not to say they like being treated badly, they definitely would rather the Order not be a thing and so on. But I do tend to think their nature as concepts given material form means they're like... Ideas first & people second if that makes sense? & that influences how they interact with and perceive stuff, they are kind of like fae.

The fae comparison is also rooted n the true names thing and I low key think one could have fun expanding on that to Akuma and people too.

But yeah I get why it bothers you, it does me as well & I definitely don't endorse the Order & I imagine Fu's somewhat more well regarded by the Kwami cos he's like the lest dickish Order member they've dealt with in generations. Yeah he follows some of their shitty rules but he doesn't treat them like worthless tools at least.

#FreeTheKwami

I did see it, I mentioned sending you a response at the start of the ask, is this why you tag me in posts, do you not get alerts @rachelsshowerthoughts ? (OO)

Mhm I think this makes sense, as you say Fu is not strictly wrong about some of the risks, the issue is just how unwilling to adapt his thinking in response to the situation is once he's made a decision. & there definitely are issues with using a relatively untrained substitute or splitting the Miraculous time as it reduces the individuals experience.

Excellent idea Marinette, just a terrible audience for it XD

I think it'd be a combo of things, the situation is already out of his hands to an extent, he is more predisposed to Marinette, she is more respectful & gentle and generally self effacing as one would expect of a child talking to an adult. While Chloe (The default argue with Fu person) treats him at best like a peer which is respectful from her but rude to him. Adrien's more respectful but he backs Chloe to the hilt and is better at aiming emotional gut punches which Fu does not appreciate. Plus yeah there are good counter arguments too.

Honestly more dispersed Miraculous would be so much safer, S2, S3 & 4's had major issue or the finales issues caused by them all being together. Also solid other points I like the cap off regarding him trusting her judgement and the tennis match angle XD

Coccinellidae maybe?

Bee Kagami is fun!

Though I always find the Bee to be kind of a fight killer as its like Cataclysm that it ends the fight the moment it land but safe to use on people XD

Oh that is fun, granted I find Wayzz a little on the mild side personality wise, but there's definitely fun to be had there. & it makes sense from Fu's perspective. The fact he still doesn't know who Chloe is, is impressive on the kids part "We dodge around papparazi & Gabriel all the time, we're experienced.)

Though would the hero's have different names as they are body doubles?

Anyway very solid logic, also I think the Turtle should be able to do way more than make a bubble shield if one is creative. Thoughy hamster ball-ing Chat would still be fun. "Its enrichment!"

Also it doe snot go quite to plan and they both start trading Miraculous on the sly? XD

Side Notes:

I did see that discussion and it was indeed insightful! Kudos to you and @princess-of-the-corner,

As it is, when designing my twelve Kami reboot Lore I did this:

Creation Snake - Eternity/Ouroboros & Time Ladybug - Creation & Purification Cat - Destruction & Mutation

Cosmic Tiger - Ignition & Havoc/Combustion & Chaos (Still use ignite & Cry Havoc) Dragon - Storm & Power Bee - Order & Subjugation

Life Peacock - Transmutation & Evocation Turtle - Protection & Resilience Horse - Action & Migration

Animals Fox - Mirage & Materialization Mouse - Multiplication & Duplication Butterfly - Transmission & Transformation

So the tiger basically melds the monkey from canon & tiger, giving someone energy claws to either try and short-circuit other magics, or igniting and creating explosions. The powers can be evolved from there, including into a fusion which is mega dangerous for all concerned.

That's just me though.

As for Venom I thought that already was the limit? XD

I don't think I've seen Snake!Nino before, definitely some interesting angles there!

Sent a response regarding the Aware AU stuff, I hope it was interesting, also had other Kwami thoughts.

Cos like, I love the substitute angle but I doubt that'd it sustainable long term once more Kwami start coming out.

Kagami is likely on lock for an early Kwami due to Marinette, meanwhile Chloe may need to get one by 'accident'.

I do love Queen Bee, though Benom is so low key over powered it can make fights vexing, but I also love Snake!Chloe & Tiger!Chloe.

The latter also fits given how similar but distinct one can make the Tiger Miraculous, especially if they get creative with it, or so I feel.

Roaar: Well now, you aren't who I was supposed to be with, & I'm not where I was supposed to be >:3c Chloe: I get the sense that isn't a problem for you. Roaar: No way, I'm Roaar, let's cause havoc!

Cue Chloe & Adrien showing up with supremely destructive Kwami and the tagline from that art piece, "Supreme Feline Violence!" as their new catchphrase.

so, first of all, I read that last line as "Sublime Feline Violence!" which . . . sounded odd until I reread it, but anyway!

So, one thing I meant before, about my problems with the Kwami, is I see a lot of problems with them as . . . well, kind of being the Order's fault? Like. The implication I keep getting, is that the Order BOUND the Kwami to their will, basically, which is why they have to do whatever their "owners" say. Like, just. I don’t know how to describe it properly, just.

Ok. Let's try this. The Kwami don’t read as "partners". They read closer to indentured servants. They aren’t allowed to do anything without asking their "owners" for permission. Gabriel can literally take Nooroo's speech capability away. Yes, maybe it’s convenient that the Kwami have NO IDEA about the power ups and stuff, as it means Gabe doesn’t know about it, but the implications . . . the Kwami aren’t allowed to know about magic that affects them, that CHANGES how they work (imagine this as a medical procedure you are REQUIRED TO HAVE, but aren’t allowed to know what someone will be doing to you). And the reason why is that they HAVE to answer their "masters". They CAN'T say no. Seriously, imagine the series with the only change being that the Kwami don't HAVE to answer questions. They can keep their own secrets and thoughts. How much shit gets solved if that happens?

Just . . . I don’t think I can explain properly how UNCOMFORTABLE the Kwami's situation makes me. Like, it feels like the only difference between Gabriel and the Order? Their goals. #FreeTheKwami

(Moving on, I'm not sure how coherent this is . . . )

I think the substitute angle would still be in play, but after the Big Conversation (not sure if you saw my take on that?), I feel like Marinette starts pushing a little more, and in my head, I see a compromise that looks odd from canon-view. Part of Fu's argument would, weirdly, be that the doubles are in danger, because the Miraculous are still primarily Adrien's and Marinette's. Like, Yes Chloé and Adrien spend maybe equal amount of time as Chat Noir, but the split is probably closer to 60-40 in Adrien's favour, with Chloé taking over the 40% he CAN'T get away without risking consequences with his dad. And Marinette, once she gets the go ahead, would split that even less, still primarily being Ladybug, with Kagami only taking over in the case of illness, or if Marinette REALLY can't leave without hurting someone (babysitting or similar comes to mind). So the rest of the time, Chloé and Kagami would be defenceless against Hawk Moth, should he figure them out or target them.

Marinette, of course, agrees. She does often have an easier time seeing things from Fu's point of view, especially because despite his hang ups, it isn’t like he's outright WRONG. The doubles ARE in danger without a way to protect themselves. Her solution? Hand the doubles a Miraculous of their own!

Yeah, this is where it gets loud.

Fu is STRIDENTLY against this. Oh no, no way, no how, absolutely NOT, Marinette, I expected better from you-! But Marinette stands her ground. She argues right back, and I think a combination of Fu seeing her more favourably, and Marinette making some very good points might sway him.

Having more Miraculous out is dangerous? Having the ones ALREADY out is dangerous, how much more danger are we talking here?

Fu doesn’t know who the doubles are? Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t know who each other is, and that’s seen as a layer of security.

The doubles are defenceless? They don’t have to be!

Just this intense back and forth (Chloé and Adrien are watching this like a tennis match) before Marinette plays her trump card. Fu says he trusts her judgement. Well, Marinette trusts the Chats Noir, and her friend, Ladybird (Kagami's Ladybug handle? Not a major fan, i see it more as a combo name for Ladybug/Peacock, but I don’t currently have other ideas). More than that, the fights are clearly getting harder. They NEED back up. SHE needs back up. Back up she can TRUST.

eventually, Fu caves.

As to which Miraculous they get, I too love Queen Bee, but hear me out. Kagami gets the Bee (maybe can extend the trompo-top stinger into a fencing sabre?), and Chloé gets the Turtle. Yep, Fu gives up Wayzz. Why?

So Wayzz can SPY on this unknown Chat. Because while Fu trusts Ladybug, he still is wary of the second Chat Noir, this one he still doesn’t know. He knows who Adrien is, so he KNOWS he's an only child. The closest "sibling" he can see is Felix, who lives in London, no way he can get to Paris that fast. He also doesn’t suspect Chloé, because he's been taken in by her outward persona. But if Duchess Noire has Wayzz, then Fu can maybe figure her out. He knows the limitations of the Miraculous - if Duchess tells Wayzz "don’t tell anyone who I am", he won’t be able to tell Fu who she is. But he'll still have insight into how she works, what her morals are, if they can REALLY trust her. Plus, Fu knows Wayzz, they've been partners for CENTURIES. Fu knows not just how to fight with the Turtle, but how to fight against the Turtle. If this second Cat turns out to be bad news, the Turtle is the Miraculous Fu has the best chance against.

(Also, random sidenote: I discussed this with @princess-of-the-corner, cause she always makes the Tiger's thing Invisibility, and I was saying I'd sort of like it if the Tiger had both that AND Clout, so I think what we ended up with was the Tiger's thing is related to Confidence. High confidence, you get Clout, low confidence, you get Stealth. You CAN figure out how to access both, but it can take awhile. Cause, also, you know, a Tiger's whole THING is that it's camouflaged, invisible in its environment, until suddenly you get slammed with several pounds of muscle, teeth and claws.

Also, if you feel that Venom is too OP, I’d institute a time limit. Like, the five minutes you have until you detransform, that's how long Venom lasts? Something like that.

also-also, I see your Snake!Chloé, and raise you Snake!Nino. )

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alovesongshewrote · 2 years ago

Text

You Choke on His Blood - Twilight | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot: Kas!Eddie scenario but with a twist! a twist that will become very obvious very quickly. Anyway, a year before the events of season 4, Eddie takes you to a bar and things go very wrong very quickly- and they don't get better for a long, long time. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader] Part 1, Part 2,

Word count: 9,219

Warnings: BIG WARNING: this whole chapter can be read as a metaphor for date r*pe, and there is an attempted date r*pe at the end that very quickly fails. A main character is drugged, another is turned into a vampire without their consent. Other warnings include: blood and violence, gore, murder, and assumed character death. Please use caution while reading. If there's anything you'd like me to add here, please lmk

Disclaimer: Fuck netflix, fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

A/N: jesus fucking christ this chapter is 22 pages long on google docs. anyway, there's so much preamble here and most of it is the warnings- can't wait to see if i end up writing that darkfic...

Tags: i'm so sorry, but i genuinely can't remember who asked to be tagged for what. if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic, please lmk

You’d never given much thought to how you would die. You just assumed, as most others do, that you would meet your end at an old age in a hospital bed, or drift off in your sleep without suffering. In all fairness, even if you thought about how you would die every day, I don’t know how you could’ve seen your death coming.

Instead of passing on in the usual way, you were dragged behind a bar and murdered by a monster. Its venom flooded your veins. You grew fangs and claws. You lost the boy you loved. Your mortal life ended.

One year later, you sat at the same bar, alone. An untouched gin and tonic sat in front of you, glowing slightly thanks to a newly installed ultraviolet light. You glared at the drink, tapping your fingers against the glass and trying to clear your mind. Your attempts were unsuccessful.

It wasn’t like you could be blamed for that, though. Thanks to your new inhuman memory, you remembered your death as transparently as the glass before you- including the role this bar had played in your final moments.

Long story long, you’d spent most of your last human day in the bedroom of a dear metalhead friend of yours. You’d more or less taken over his bed, lying on it as you listened to him rant and rave about some bar he’d ventured out to the other night. That wasn’t too out of the ordinary. You and Eddie Munson spent most of your time ranting at each other about whatever the fuck you felt like, and you were no stranger to sneaking into bars. However, it was pure tradition for the two of you to break drinking laws together.

Maybe that was why this rant in particular was creeping under your skin. You couldn’t come up with another reason for it. Eddie wasn’t teasing you, or provoking you in any way, which was out of the ordinary. Whatever the true reason may have been, you could only sit in his room watching his perfect lips move for so long before you got sick of it.

Eventually, you were forced to act- you sat up from your spot on his bed and threw a pillow at his face with all of your strength. He was mostly unaffected.

“Something bothering you, sweetheart?”

You threw another pillow at him. It was the best way to ignore how the pet name made you feel, “Uh, yeah, there is. You’ve been talking about this place all day, and I’m almost one hundred percent sure it isn’t as metal as you say it is.”

“Oh? Are you doubting my descriptive skills, (L/N)?”

“Why, I think I am, oh great master of descriptions,” as tempted as you were to throw something else at your friend, you settled for nudging his leg with your foot. Hard.

He stood from his place on the floor, looming over you with his hands on his hips in a very half-assed attempt to be intimidating. Of course, he failed at that. As intimidating as the rest of Hawkins found him, he never managed to scare you. He was too sweet for that. His eyes were too big, too soft. Also, his smile was a dead giveaway. He tried to fight it, but it won out, practically yelling out to the world that Eddie wasn’t actually upset.

Still, he tried to sound wounded, “Harsh, (Y/N). Harsh, and cold.”

“Is that really the best you can do, Eds?” you scoffed, “I’d give those descriptive words… maybe, a three out of ten? It’s closer to a four than a two if that helps.”

“It does not,” he paused, and the smile he had been fighting took over his face. His eyes glinted, bright with mischief. That fucker had a plan.

“Eddie?” your question sounded like a warning, “What are you-?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Eddie let himself fall on top of you, effectively pinning you to the bed. You let out a squeak of rage as you struggled, wiggling around as you tried to free yourself from underneath him.

“You dick!” you screeched through your poorly disguised giggles, “Get off me, oh my god-!”

“Mm, “dick” isn’t the best descriptive word you could come up with, (L/N), I’d give it a three out of ten. Maybe scoundrel- or mayhaps villain or rogue would be better.”

Eddie’s voice was slightly muffled, his face still pressed into his sheets as you writhed about. You tried to ignore the heat that flooded your body at the feeling of his weight on top of you.

“Oh my god, get off of me.”

“Mmm, I’d rather not. You make a good pillow,” he pushed himself up on his elbows and smiled down at you. A strand of his hair was stuck to his cheek, and you had to fight off the urge to brush it away. Instead, you planted your hand in the center of his face and shoved him off of you. He gave out half a yell as he lost his balance and collapsed to the floor.

You dragged yourself over to the edge of the bed and looked down at him. The smile on his face matched the one on yours.

“Thou art a cruel and unmerciful wretch, (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Oh, bite me, Munson.”

“You wound me! And to think I was planning on taking you to a certain bar tonight.”

You rolled your eyes and extended a hand down to him. He accepted your hand and let you pull him up. As you did, you made a bit of a show of sighing and groaning as you said, “Damn, I guess that means I have to keep you alive for the next few hours.”

“You doooo,” he almost cooed at you as he returned to his seated position at the side of the bed, “Otherwise, who would watch your drink when you got distracted by something shiny, huh? And who would drive your ass home after you have one too many?”

“I’m gonna… bite you,” you grumbled, running a hand through Eddie’s hair, messing it up as much as you could.

You knew he was right. Whenever the two of you ventured out with the intent to commit the lovely crime of underage drinking, he was the one to have your back. Of course, you had his

“I’d like to see you try,” he grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from his hair and towards his chest. He didn’t seem to notice the effect that small action had on you. Instead, he just continued to ramble on about whatever came into his mind.

That was just how the two of you were. Your friendship was a mix of relentless teasing and genuine affection. And you loved it. You loved him, as deeply and truly as any one person could love another. He loved you the same way- even if you did threaten to bite him on a regular basis, which you absolutely did.

Of course, all of your feelings were felt in silence. You never told him how you felt, and it was one of your greatest regrets. If you had known what was going to happen to you that night, you would have told him everything. You would have gotten him to stay home with you. You wouldn’t have left his trailer.

You didn’t know what would happen, though. You had no way of knowing. So, you stayed silent, and you didn’t think about it too much.

Now, as you sat in the same bar he wanted to take you to, you desperately wished you could go back and make better choices. As your fingers traced shapes through the condensation on your glass, you mourned your past self and all their bad choices. After a moment of silence for your past actions, you let the memory consume you again.

The day passed quickly. Soon, you were ready to leave. Eddie draped one of his jackets over your shoulders as you stepped out of his trailer. The leather smelled like him- like warmth, spice, and weed. He ran a hand through your hair and messed it up, laughing as you grabbed at the offending limb.

“Munson, you asshole, I’m going to bite you.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said, trying and failing to hide his smile, “Look, in return, you can pick what we listen to on the way there.”

That was a high honour- one that was very rarely offered to anyone other than you. A smirk crawled its way across your face as you looked between the car and your friend, “That’s more like it, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” he questioned as you climbed into his van.

“Don’t judge- you keep calling me ‘sweetheart,’ I have to at least try to compete with that.”

“Well,” he shut the door behind you and got into the driver’s seat, “You aren’t doing the best job of that.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re winning now, whatever,” your reply was absent-minded, your attention now focused on the cassette tapes scattered throughout the organized disorder of his van. You picked up a tape and examined it before returning it to the pile, “But I will make a comeback.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I will! I’m gonna kick your ass, trust me.”

“Sure thing, man, and right after that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“You could never, I’m too adorable.”

“Damn,” he smacked the steering wheel without much force, “I think you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” your focus returned to the pile of tapes, and the van fell into silence.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was also focused on the tapes- or more specifically, the way you looked as you picked a cassette from the mess in his van. Your bottom lip was drawn between your teeth in deep concentration, and for an embarrassingly long moment, he wished that it was his teeth biting down on your lip instead.

He tried to ignore that, fighting the thought off and hoping that you didn’t notice the red dusting his cheeks. Suddenly, the silence of the van was far too loud for him.

“Hurry up and pick a damn tape, will ya? Pick one, or I’m pulling over, 'cause I’m not about to drive all the way to the bar sitting in silence like a serial killer.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. You might look scary, Cupcake, but I don’t think anything could make you into a serial killer.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I think you’d be surprised, (L/N).”

“Okay, then, tell me. What would make you, Eddie Munson, into a serial killer?”

He paused for a moment, staring straight at the road, pondering your question. As you fell to pieces laughing at him, another bigger question crossed his mind.

“Did you just call me Cupcake?”

“Would you kill me if I did?”

He sighed and stared out at the road again, choosing not to dignify your question with a response. It was a wise choice- but of course, it was one you couldn’t accept.

“So that’s a no? A no to my murder? Okay then, baby girl.”

He turned to you, his concentration on the road nearly shattered. His head was cocked to the side slightly in a very cute way. He smiled, though his eyes betrayed his utter confusion, which, really, you couldn’t blame him for.

“Sorry,” you said, tapping your fingers against the dash, “I was trying to come up with something to match ‘sweetheart’ again.”

“And the best you came up with was ‘baby girl?’” his composure was quickly slipping as he descended into giggles.

“I’m sorry! It was the first thing that came to mind!”

“The first thing that came to your mind was ‘baby girl?’”

“Oh my god,” you shoved his arm, setting off another round of giggles. It was your turn to sigh and look away.

A few moments later, when his laughter had subsided, you opened your mouth again, “So, should I go back to calling you Cupcake? I liked that one.”

He wheezed, completely unable to answer. You were thankful that the road was empty because he probably would have crashed the car. When he finally recovered, he sat up straight, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “That’s up to you, sweetheart. Just like the music. So pick something.”

“You got me,” you threw your hands up, trying to act exasperated- though the look on your face gave you away. You leaned over in your seat and returned to the cassette pile, finally choosing one.

Of course, it was a mix that you had made. There was nothing you enjoyed more than gently bullying your friend by making him listen to your taste in music. You let yourself relax in your seat as the first song on the track blasted in your ears. ‘The Chain.’ Fleetwood Mac. Musical excellence.

The setting sun cast a warm glow over your world, painting you and Eddie in gold. You watched him, a smile crossing your face as he ranted to you about some D&D thing over the music. His eyes were so bright, so alive- and you were entranced. You couldn’t look away, and you didn’t want to. If that one moment could have extended on forever, you would’ve been happy, your destination be damned.

Of course, that wasn’t the case. The sun set, the van stopped, and you arrived at the bar. Still, a year and a monstrous transformation later, that moment continued to shine like gold in your memories.

You found yourself relaxing slightly, leaning against the bar, your hand supporting your chin as you thought about it- as you thought about the way the sun lit Eddie’s hair, giving him a sort of halo, and as you remembered the way the sun changed his dark eyes to the colour of honey.

The sweet memory was quickly shattered, however, by a flash of those same brown eyes, confused and terrified, watching as that thing attacked you.

You took a sip of your drink.

Behind you, a few people entered the bar. You turned the slightest bit, taking them in without turning your head too far thanks to your belothed inhuman eyes. Among them stood a couple- one in leather, and one in a battle jacket.

You took another sip, trying to ignore how much that couple resembled you, pretending you didn’t notice the burning sting in your eyes as you remembered walking into the bar with Eddie, oblivious to what was about to happen.

Your body was tucked under his arm, distracting you, for a moment, from the fact that the bar smelled pungently of metal. You couldn’t exactly place what it was at the time- though now you knew that the smell was iron, or more accurately, rust.

Still, at the time, you paid it no mind. You were just a little distracted by the sight and sounds surrounding you. Lights flashed, drenching the dance floor in darkness before blinding you with light. The entire room was filled with people, talking, dancing, drinking, all of them densely packed into the space like metalhead sardines. You didn’t notice then, how many of them were staring at you.

You couldn’t be blamed for that. The bar was mildly overwhelming, drowning out your senses in a sea of screams and shouts and songs. Still, you couldn’t help but grin. Something about the noise made you feel particularly alive.

“Are you thirsty?” Eddie asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before he continued, “I’m thirsty. Come on, sweetheart.”

You let him take you by the hand and pull you towards the bar, stopping a few seats down from where you would sit one year later. He didn’t ask you for your drink preferences- he’d always known your tastes well. You trusted him to choose for you.

You could practically see your former self now, sitting at the bar, drink in hand, looking around with wide eyes, trying to take everything in at once and failing. You could see yourself turning back to Eddie, catching his smile as he watched you.

You spent a few hours like that, talking to each other, drinking, and simply taking in the revelry around you. Then everything started to go south.

Somewhere behind you, a fight broke out. The chaos stole your attention from the bar and the drinks in front of you. The fight took Eddie’s focus as well. He put an arm in front of you, protecting you from the edges of the fray. It was a valiant effort, and you appreciated it, even now- but maybe getting punched would have been better than what came next.

The fight ended quickly. The instigator was asked to leave, and the other man involved in the brawl was left behind, nursing what looked like a black eye. And that was that. You shared a glance with Eddie, your eyebrows raised as he grimaced. You swallowed your laughter and turned back to your drinks, not realizing that your fatal mistake had already been made.

You brought the glass to your lips.

Eddie brought his glass to his.

You both took a drink.

Your drink was fine. It didn’t taste any different than it had before. There was no powdery substance swirling around the liquid. Nothing had changed. It was fine. You were fine.

But Eddie? Eddie was not fine.

It was easy to see that something was wrong- especially when, out of the corner of your eye, you watched him take a sip of his drink, make a face, take another sip of his drink, and spit that sip back into his glass.

“Eds?” you said his name like a question, “Are you-”

“Shit. Shit-” instead of responding to you, Eddie held his drink up, trying to see it in the low light of the bar. He squinted at it, trying to focus on the liquid through the condensation.

Then he dropped the glass.

It shattered on the bar’s surface, spraying glass fragments and alcohol in every direction. A few people jumped back, and you joined them with a yelp- but not before a shard managed to slice your hand open.

Your focus wasn’t on your own pain, though. Nope, you were entirely focused on how Eddie had barely moved. It looked as if he was slumping forward slightly- like he was off balance, uneasy on his feet.

“Eds?” your voice and hands shook as you reached out for him. Before your hand met his shoulder, he bolted upright, his hands braced against the bar.

“That was too quick. It shouldn’t have happened that fast-” his words were quiet. He wasn’t talking to you.

“Eddie, what are you talking about-?”

“Something’s wrong. We should leave,” he sounded so serious in that moment- almost scared. You’d never heard him sound that way before.

“What’s- what’s going on?”

“Someone put something in my drink,” he turned and tried to smile at you in what you had to guess was an attempt to keep you calm. It didn’t work. His movements were off- slightly subdued and sluggish. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

And, in fact, he was. He was dizzy, drowsy, and overall experiencing the effects of what he had to assume was some kind of date rape drug. Someone must have slipped it into his drink while he was watching the fight- and he had a feeling that they’d missed their intended target. You.

He wasn’t exactly thankful that he had been drugged, but at the time, he was thankful that it was him and not you.

He wasn’t sure which drug it was. Sure, he was a dealer, but not for this. His general knowledge suggested that it was probably roofies thanks to the sudden and bitter taste in his drink, but his general knowledge also reminded him that roofies didn’t work this fast. He’d taken one sip, and within seconds he was seeing symptoms. That wasn’t normal. None of this was.

It scared him, honestly, and it should have. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t know what was going on in his own body. He didn’t know what was in his system. And on top of that, he couldn’t protect you from whoever did this. He was too out of it- too dizzy, too drowsy. The world around him was too fuzzy for him to do much more than get the two of you out of there.

“It’s probably just roofies, but, uh- we need to go,” his words were slurred slightly, but you understood him just fine. As you pulled him from the bar and towards the exit, one thought lingered in his blurred, distorted mind.

The person who had done this to him was probably targeting you.

That thought scared him more than anything else that night- more than the drugs in his system and more than the unknowns that circled his head. It was sweet that he worried too much- but in a way, it was also a waste. It wasn’t like he would remember any of this the next day.

But he didn’t know that. He was just focused on getting out of the bar with you. He put all of his effort into walking normally, trying to make the process easier, taking as much of the burden as he could off of your shoulders.

He wasn’t great at that. It was nice that he tried, but he almost fell into you completely, swearing under his breath as you moved to support his weight. You did your best to avoid getting blood on him, but it was a difficult process considering the blood was coming from your hand. The two of you swayed slightly, entirely unsteady as you moved back through the bar, making your escape.

And you almost did it. You almost escaped. You were just a few feet from the door when someone stepped in your way, blocking your path.

You recognized him. Eddie was too out of it at that point to register the man’s face, but you knew him. He was one of the men who was fighting earlier- the one left in the bar. Oddly enough, there was no bruising on his face. There was no blood, no damage- just a sharp grin cutting across his cheeks. The man had a beautiful smile, you had to admit- beautiful and off-putting.

“Need some help there?” he offered, reaching out a hand. On the surface, it was a kind gesture, but something in your gut told you to run. The scent of metal was stronger around this man.

“I think we’ll be fine, thanks,” you tried to keep your face neutral, all the while gritting your teeth.

“No, no, I insist.”

“So do I,” you growled, clutching Eddie’s body tighter to you, “We’ll be fine. Thanks.”

The man’s smile grew wider. You tried to step around him, but he walked, again, into your path. When you turned to take another route, you almost walked into another man. You recognized him, too, as the man who had started the fight. He must have made his way back into the bar, but you barely registered that. You were distracted by the grin on his face, just as sharp and intimidating as the smile on the other man.

You tried again, in vain, to bypass this man, but you found yourself walking into someone else’s body. You looked up to find yourself encircled by strangers, all of them with sharp, cutting smiles. You were surrounded. Your stomach dropped.

“Come on, let us help,” the first man said, taking Eddie from your grasp by force.

“Hey! Stop-!” you called out after him, trying to keep up with his lengthy steps.

“Stop! Let him go, you asshole-” you raised your fists, pounding on the man’s back, trying to get him to stop. You failed. What’s more, your effort was cut short by another two men grabbing your arms and pulling you towards the exit.

You struggled in their grasp, not really caring if you made a scene. You writhed, screamed, and fought, but you made no impact on your situation. Somehow, none of the bystanders even seemed to notice.

To be fair, you almost didn’t notice when the men pulled you into the brisk night and behind the bar. It was a dimly lit space. Night had fallen, and clouds covered the moon. That left two lights attached to the building to cast the space in a sickly yellow light. You were almost glad that they did such a shitty job.

What you could see of the concrete behind the bar was covered in odd stains. Two dumpsters were covered in a similar substance. Each of them reeked with the smell of rot- in fact, the whole area did. Flies buzzed nearby, humming an elegy in tune with the dull static sound of the wall lights.

Before your surroundings could make you spiral any further, Eddie’s voice hit your ears. He groaned out your name, breaking your heart into a million little pieces. You did your best to keep your eyes on him despite the situation, and the horror around you. You had to focus on his limp frame, his arms twisted behind his back in a cruel, unforgiving hold by the man from the bar.

Seeing him hurt just made you fight harder. You snapped at your captors, spitting and biting, snarling like a feral beast. You screamed, too, begging them to let him go, begging any passers-by for help. No one came. No one helpful, anyway.

In the midst of your frenzied fighting, a figure emerged from the shadows. Its eyes were white pinpricks in the dark, gazing at you, eating you alive even at a distance. Your body froze when you finally noticed it standing there. It took a few steps into the light, and a chill ran through you. He was just a normal man. A little older than you, relatively handsome, and with a grin as sharp as any other. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t recognize him from the bar. But something told you that he knew you, that he’d been waiting here, for you.

You wanted to keep fighting. You wanted to break from your captors’ hold, grab Eddie, and escape. You didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you stood, trapped as the Stranger advanced on you. You watched him with wide, terrified eyes as he took your injured hand in his. He examined the wound, inhaling the blood that stained your skin.

“I told you they’d be a catch, didn’t I?” he finally spoke in a deep voice that chilled your blood.

“Mhmm, but are they really worth the hassle?” one of your captors spoke up, “They’re rather intent on causing a scene- and extensive damage to my face.…”

“You deserved it,” you barked, a bit of fight returning to your bones.

The shadow-drenched Stranger seemed to like that response, “See? They’re a fighter. They’ll last longer than the others, and when they do break, well-” he dug his fingers into the wound on your palm, drawing a scream from your lips, “It’ll be more fun for us, won’t it?”

His hungry eyes met yours as he brought his blood-soaked digits to his mouth. Again, you found yourself frozen, like a deer trapped in headlights, watching as he licked the red from his fingers.

“Oh,” the Stranger purred, leaning closer to you, “They’re delicious.”

The Stranger’s smile grew wider as he turned his attention to your throat. He took his time drawing closer to you, casually taking hold of you in place of your captors. You strained against his grip, but your efforts were futile. His strength was inhuman- his grip on you left bruises that would never truly go away. It finally dawned on you that this was not a man that held you like he wanted to destroy you- this was a monster that wanted to toy with you until you breathed your last.

And in that moment, you understood. You were his prey. You were a rabbit between the teeth of a predator. A deer staring down a fucking bus. You were going to die- and things were only going to get worse from there.

The Stranger grabbed your face and pulled you in, teeth bared. He was mere seconds away from piercing the thin flesh of your throat when the sound of a scuffle broke his concentration.

“Let them go, you bastard-”

Eddie. He was up and struggling, fighting against the man holding him despite the drugs coursing through his veins. Your heart screamed in your chest, desperate for him to help you- and for you to help him. But there was nothing you could do.

“Did you hear me? Let. Them. Go,” his voice trembled, and his words slurred together, but it didn’t matter. He was fighting and he was doing it for you.

It was incredibly stupid. It was incredibly brave. It spared you for a moment, but it cost you both in the long run, and that didn’t matter in the end, because fuck, you loved him.

The Stranger also loved Eddie, but he loved him for a much different, much more entertainment-based reason.

“Ohhh, isn’t this cute?” The Stranger released you, throwing you back to the other men. His eyes set upon his newest fascination with an unsettling joy engraved within them.

He grabbed Eddie by the chin, forcing your friend to meet his gaze. The Stranger studied him for a moment, taking in the honey brown eyes that you were so fond of before he placed both of his hands on Eddie’s face, almost cradling it. His grasp almost looked gentle. From experience, you could tell that it was anything but. It would only take a jerk of the Stranger's hands to end the boy you loved- and you were powerless to do anything about it.

A sob escaped you as you thrashed, helplessly. Eddie was drugged and defenceless, and you couldn’t help him. You couldn’t see his face, but you could practically feel the panic burning through him.

“Don’t cry, little one,” the Stranger said, casting a glance at you over his shoulder, “Don’t waste your tears on this fucking failure.”

“Fuck off-” you hissed, but the Stranger paid you no mind. Instead, he turned his gaze back to Eddie, tilting his head and humming a bit. The world fell silent for a few moments as dread built in your chest. Fear grew inside of you, eating away at your soul like a parasite.

“It’s kind of sweet, you know? How much he cares for you. How much he wants to protect you. Oh, he’s going to be so much fun.”

“Stop!! Leave him alone!” you begged, “Please, don’t hurt him!”

“Don’t worry, little one,” the smirk on the Stranger’s face could not be described as anything but malicious. His eyes glinted in the low light, and as he spared you another glance, your heart dropped to your stomach, “I’ll leave most of the hurting to you.”

Before you could process what that truly meant, the Stranger tilted Eddie’s head back and drove his fingers into your friend’s temples. You watched, petrified, as the light faded from his eyes. He stopped struggling. His limbs fell to his sides as he went limp in the Stranger’s hold. You could barely hear the apology that fell from Eddie’s lips- a small, pitiful “I’m sorry,” that was undoubtedly meant for you.

A milky white sheen covered his eyes before they slid shut entirely. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The Stranger let Eddie’s body fall to the floor. Everything stilled. The world fell silent.

You screamed.

The sound echoed through the parking lot. Your pain and anguish bounced off of the brick walls of the bar, and the stained concrete below. You strained against your captors, praying for some secret strength to help you free yourself and get to your friend.

But there was nothing. You were trapped. And you were certain that Eddie was dead.

“Will you shut up?” one of the men growled.

“Master, I really think this one is more trouble than they’re worth-”

“Let’s cut the crap and slit their throat. It’s not like we really need another servant,” another of the men entangled a hand in your hair, pulling him towards you by the roots. He used the leverage to pull your head back, exposing your neck to the men around you, “Especially this one will be so fun to break.”

You felt hands on your wrists and on your waist. It felt as if a thousand men had suddenly gathered, manifesting from the shadows to tear you apart. No matter how hard you thrashed, you couldn’t shake them off. A sharp pinch hit your neck- teeth. Fangs threatened your flesh, digging in, moments from drawing blood.

They were going to eat you. You were going to die, and all you could think about was the life leaving Eddie’s eyes.

“Enough,” the Stranger’s voice rang in your ears, blocking out the sound of your screams. His footsteps filled your mind as he approached you, stepping away from Eddie’s body, “Have patience. You’ll have your turn to drink as long as we stick to the plan.”

He stopped in front of you and held out a hand, “Give them to me.”

Without another thought, you were thrown into his arms. You weren’t sure whether you should be relieved, or afraid. Before you could make up your mind on that one, the Stranger took your injured hand in his. His hungry eyes bore into yours as he ran his tongue over the wound.

The second your blood hit his tongue, he shifted, slightly. His eyes sharpened, glinting in the low light like an animal’s as if he had a tapetum lucidum of his own. His teeth grew slightly in length and in sharpness. You already knew that this man wasn’t human, but now you could see it. And looking just behind him, you could see that every other man surrounding you was the exact same type of creature that he was. They were monsters, all of them.

You whimpered, wounding your pride slightly. Still, you found it in yourself to ask, “What did you do to him?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, sweet one.”

A shaky breath filled your lungs. In your last moments, with your last breaths, you asked another question- one that you already knew the answer to, “What are you?”

He didn’t answer. Before you could understand what was happening, you were knocked back. The Stranger held you in midair against his chest, between him and the ground. As he set his teeth against your pulse point, your eyes fell to Eddie. His crumpled form lay where the Stranger had left him. His eyes were shut. He looked dead.

Despite the imminent death, you couldn’t help but wonder- what would happen to him after these monsters were done with you? After they followed their plan and ate you, would they kill him? Would they do to him what they were doing to you?

Tears spilled down your cheeks even before you felt the Stranger tearing into your throat.

He made no effort to show mercy. His jaw clamped down on you, tearing through flesh and vein until he was satisfied. Your body burnt with pain so violent that you could not help the tears that fell from your eyes. Your vision blurred and tunnelled. Everything around you turned grey as your hands began to shake. The rest of your body began to convulse.

Each and every sensation you felt intensified tenfold. You could feel the beating of your heart in your chest, the pulling of your muscles, and the grating of your bones against your flesh.

It was fucking sickening.

You heard a sound. A scream, a broken plea, faint but full of fear- the cry of a dying thing. For a moment, you thought it was something in the woods, a deer or a rabbit caught screaming as something big tore it apart. It took you a minute to register that the sound came from you.

Other sets of teeth pierced your skin as the rest of the men joined in on the murder. Someone’s lips lapped at your wounded hand, and someone else’s fangs carved into your thigh. You could feel the smiles on their faces as they ate you alive. Time seemed to slow down as they ripped you open and drank you to death. A sickening lightness took your mind as you recognized what was to come.

With even your desperation drained, you succumbed to your fate. The fight in you was gone. The last thing your human eyes saw was Eddie. The pain crescendoed, and the world went dark. You were dead. Your life was over.

But that wasn’t the end, was it?

No. No, it was not. You were dead, yes, but then you noticed that you could still feel everything. All of the pain, the anguish, the panic- it was still there, running through your body, eating away at what was left of you.

In the haze of sightless experiences, you could feel something pressing against your lips- something hard, dripping with what had to be blood. The taste of metal flooded your mouth as a thick, hot liquid rushed in. You could feel it coursing down your throat, changing you as it went. As you drank, you grew stronger. Whatever it was that they had given you, it brought you back from the abyss. The pain lessened. Your senses sharpened. And everything felt wrong.

Your teeth were too long for your mouth. You could smell the ichor that stained the ground beneath you, and what was undoubtedly the scent of corpses radiating from the dumpster. The buzzing of the flies and of the dim yellow lights screamed in your ears, creating a cacophony of sounds that you could not escape from. You could feel your blood, hot and steaming, dripping down your cold flesh where your assailants had decided to waste it.

And what a waste it was.

From the outside of the building, you could hear the heartbeats of every single patron of the bar. You could smell their sweat and practically taste their flesh. And you were so hungry- suddenly, the trickle of dark plasma down your throat wasn’t enough. You needed more.

With new inhuman strength, you gripped the thing against your mouth and sunk your claws and teeth deeper inside. You drank from it, hungrily, viciously, like an animal drinking in the viscera of its kill. You could hear a laugh, feel the limb, an arm, twitch between your jaws, but you didn’t fucking care. The new hunger that gripped you was vast and relentless- you couldn’t get enough.

You were still clinging to the arm when the Stranger pulled you away by the back of your neck. It was his other arm that you’d been tearing apart, but he didn’t seem to mind. Another of those nasty cold smiles was plastered across his face, and there was almost a sort of pride in his eyes when he looked at you.

“That’s it, sweet one, that’s it,” he cooed, “You’re thirsty, aren’t you?”

You didn’t want to give him a response. Instead, you strained against his hold, trying to bite his arm again. He was bleeding- dark liquid dripped down his fingers, beckoning you to taste it. And yes, his blood was weird. It was bitter, and it wasn’t completely satisfying, but fuck, did you want more of it.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” his smile widened, “Well, I can tell you where to get more. Do you want more?”

Your gaze broke from his arm, snapping to his face. You were desperate, so fucking desperate, inhumanly and monstrously desperate.

The Stranger seemed to know this. His eyes glinted with malice and excitement. He knew that he had power over you. He knew what was coming next, and he loved that you didn’t. He rose up slowly, keeping his eyes on your quivering frame, and with a flourish, he gestured to Eddie.

“Drink up, sweet thing.”

…

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

And yes, you were conflicted. Yes, you wanted to eat Eddie Munson, your longtime friend and overall protector- the man you’d loved since you knew what love was, but for obvious reasons, you also did not want to do that.

And yet, despite that, you found yourself crawling towards him, eyes set on his body like a hungry animal stalking fresh meat. In many ways, you were.

When you reached him, you took a moment just to stare. He still looked sick- an after-effect from whatever the Stranger had done to him. Somehow, though, he managed to look beautiful. He was angelic, even in this filthy hell. You brought a hand up to trace his jaw. Your fingertips traced over his porcelain skin until they hovered over his neck, setting themselves atop his pulse point. For a moment, you thought you felt a heartbeat; slow and faint, but present.

You told yourself you were imagining things.

He was gone, you knew that, and the knowledge burned you. It cursed you, inside and out. Loss weighed heavy in your heart, calling you to make bad decisions and do things you’d regret. Why worry about tomorrow when your world had just ended?

But something stopped you- something deep inside you- the little rational part of your brain that still remained- screamed for you to control your impulses. And you did. Dead or otherwise, you wouldn’t be eating Eddie Munson.

Instead, you leaned down, bringing yourself closer to his throat. Your lips hovered over his pulse point, but you didn’t bite down into his sweet skin. Instead, you placed a short, gentle kiss on his neck- a soft goodbye.

Then, with a final look at the boy you loved, you stood. Your body shook terribly. Your vision swam, and the world seemed to shift underneath you. Despite all of this, you managed, and you stood tall and proud as you faced down the Stranger and his monsters. Blood-soaked and broken, you did your best to look confident and unafraid. You were a fool for what you were about to do. You did it anyway.

It was time to be brave.

“I can’t do it.”

“Oh, why? Because you love him?” the Stranger mocked you. You refused to react.

You remained silent.

A sickening smile spread across the Stranger’s face, “Ah, humans. So simple. Don’t worry, darling. We’ll fix you.”

With a flick of his hand, the Stranger ordered one of his monsters to come and investigate your claims. You watched as the man moved forward, his hungry eyes fixed on you and on Eddie. Before he could get too close, you darted forward with speed that surprised you. You greeted him with a solid punch to the face.

Your assailant hit the ground, clutching his face with a hand. You had done that. You had knocked him down. You hadn’t been able to knock any of these monsters off of you before, but now… Your new strength was a definite surprise, but a welcome one to be sure.

Another few blood-suckers were sent your way. You punched the first one in the stomach, sending him back to the ground. Another fist flew towards your face, but you managed to dodge it, grabbing the wrist of the thing that attacked you. You threw the man away from you and caught the fist of the next man. For all intents and purposes, you were winning.

And then that ended. A knee met your chest, knocking the wind out of you and sending you stumbling towards the concrete. A boot collided with your ribs, followed by several more blows. You could do nothing but curl in on yourself, trying to protect the more fragile parts of your body. You could practically feel the bruises forming, though your skin remained unblemished.

The beating continued for a few more minutes. You could do nothing but lie there and take it. You were already weakened- what could you do to fight back?

“Enough,” you could feel the Stranger’s voice in your bones, “Get them up.”

Hands gripped your arms and pulled you up from the floor. Another hand gripped under your chin, forcing you to gaze up at the man who’d caused all this suffering.

He stalked towards you. For once, his face was expressionless. He looked you up and down, taking in your weakened form. An awful grin took over his face as he reached out to stroke your cheek.

“Like I said, fun to break. Let’s be off, now. There’s still much to do before the sunrise.”

And, unfortunately, there was- and it never seemed to stop. For a year you were kept as a prisoner, a thrall to the thing that turned you. You witnessed horror after horror, and you did what you needed to survive. You bided your time, though, and eventually, you gathered your courage and your cunning, and you tore the Stranger- your vampiric master- limb from fucking limb.

You drank him, consuming his foul blood until there was nothing left. It felt good, freeing, to see the fear on his face. It brought you indescribable joy to watch the light drain from his eyes. And when, finally, your killer lay dead before you,

After that, you found yourself relatively lost. You’d lived the last monstrous year of your life dependent on the Stranger and his coven. With them dead at your hand, you weren’t sure exactly how to live in the modern world as a creature of the night.

Your former master’s bank account was a good first step.

Yeah, it turns out that decades, possibly centuries of murder can turn a bit of a profit. Between general theft and contract killings, the Stranger definitely wasn’t hungry for money. He was just hungry for blood- and now, he wasn’t hungry for anything. Just dirt, if you had to guess.

Anyway.

You donated a solid portion of the money to various charities. It was blood money in the purest, most literal way, and keeping it would only weigh you down.

With the rest of it, you bought the bar you’d been turned at. A surprising number of the staff had been dangerous monsters in one way or another. You quickly corrected that. The staff you had now were much less monstrous- they were a safer crowd, human or otherwise. They also had a solid benefits package, so that was nice.

You had also purchased yourself a home near Hawkins. You weren’t directly in the town- no, you were easing yourself into returning. For one thing, people would have questions for you. It wasn’t every day that a young adult for a year before reappearing miraculously and with assloads of money in the bank.

For another thing, the memories of your human life stung you. It hurt you to think back, to think of everyone you left behind. To think of Eddie, whose death still weighed heavy in your heart, and whose absence left a deep ache inside of you. It was almost nice, the agony that he left behind. It was just nice to know that you could still feel hurt, emotionally or otherwise.

So, that’s where you ended up. One year later, at the same bar, your bar, watching patrons mill about, dancing and drinking. Your eyes fell back, again and again, to the couple- the one in the leather and the one in the battle jacket.

They were leaning against the bar, drinking together, all loving smiles and adoring stares. You embraced the stab of pain the image sent to your heart.

Taking a sip of your drink, you continued to watch as the one in leather stood and headed for the bathroom, eyes distracted as she seemed to sulk away. Your eyes turned, then, to the one in the battle jacket. You were glad you did. It meant that you got to watch him shatter the illusion that he was anything like Eddie.

You watched, eyes widening, as the man slipped a pill into his date’s drink. He looked around, his own eyes wide, looking to see if anyone had noticed him. Of course, he didn’t see you. He sat back down, shaking his hands out and pretending he’d done nothing wrong.

You knew better.

You knew you would be eating tonight.

You turned to the bartender- another monster with a story similar to yours, and placed your hand on the bar between you, “Jen, we’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“I know,” she said, leaning towards you, “Should I-?”

You nodded, adding, “We might need a car, as well.”

“On it, boss,” Jen gave you a mock salute before she turned to face the battle jacket-wearing animal. She leaned over the counter with a wide grin and asked if she could get him another drink. He accepted with a wide, lusty grin. Pig.

You turned your attention back to the washroom, waiting for the leather-clad girl to re-enter the room. You saw her before her date did, and as she made her way to him, you stepped into her path.

“Hey there,” you said, voice low, “I just thought you should know- your date slipped something into your drink.”

A thousand emotions showed on her face- shock, anger, fear.

“That shithead, I- I don’t know how I’m gonna get home. He drove me here, I-”

“Don’t worry, cupcake. Ask the bartender in the black to call you a car,” you pointed to another bartender- not Jen, who was busy dealing with the pig.

“I- I don’t know if I have enough,” the poor thing was starting to tear up. A pang of sympathy ran through you, and you revelled in the emotion for a moment, clinging to the small fragment of humanity you had left.

“Like I said, don’t worry. The bar will cover it for you, no charge.”

“I- are you sure?”

“Of course, dear.”

“I-” her relief turned to suspicion, “Why would you do that?”

You shrugged, pulling a smile onto your face to hide the memories that crossed your mind, “It’s important to us that our patrons make it home safe. Go on now.”

You bowed, slightly, as you made a rather grand gesture in the direction of the bartender. The girl turned away from you slowly as if she was hesitant to stray from the modicum of safety you provided. You didn’t blame her. The world you lived in was a dangerous place.

The girl’s asshole date would learn that very soon.

As she reached safety, your eyes fell from her frame and slid towards the situation unfolding between Jen and the battle-jacket date. She had him now, hook line and sinker. It was almost comical the way he stumbled after her as she led him through a back door. You followed, pausing for a moment at the door.

Outside was the back parking lot where you and Eddie had died. The lighting was still shit, but you’d gotten the place cleaned since you came to own it. The buzzing of the flies wasn’t nearly as loud as it had once been. It was almost a pity, really, that the pathetic attempted date-rapist wouldn’t feel the fear you felt that night.

Oh well.

You could hear music playing from inside the bar: ‘The Chain.” Fleetwood Mac. Perhaps it was an odd choice for a metal bar, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was familiar, and it had so many memories tied to it. Besides, how could you come to mind anything when there was such a meal in front of your face?

Your steps fell in time with the music as you stood next to Jen, taking in a very confused man who’d just been thrown to the ground. The man at your feet was a predator to be sure; one used to getting his way and hurting whoever he felt like in the process. In that moment though, he was prey. He was a rabbit staring into the vast, waiting jaws of a much bigger, much scarier creature. Those jaws smiled, opened, and bit down.

Blood always had a different taste. The Stranger’s blood was bitter, like the drugs he used as a weapon. Your blood tasted sweet and a little spicy, like cinnamon, sugar, and cloves. This man’s blood tasted like the beer he’d been sipping inside your bar. It wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had, but it would do for your needs.

Your teeth split flesh and broke veins, and you drank down the warm liquid that spilled out. Beneath your hands, the bastard battle-jacket boy was freaking out, losing his absolute shit. You were pretty sure that he didn’t think his night would end like this.

Of course, you didn’t give a shit. You were much stronger now, so his struggling didn’t affect you that much, and his begging was met by an explanation from Jen on how exactly he’d ended up in this position. You tuned it all out, focusing instead on the blood in your mouth as the song played out.

The man fell limp in your hands, but it mattered so very little. You were too busy pulling your head away, savouring the bliss that fresh blood brought you.

Now, you didn’t kill the man. Killing people usually caused more problems than it was worth. There would be a police investigation, and you would have to cover it up, and that his poor date would probably end up with survivor’s guilt of some kind even though she didn’t deserve it. So, no, you didn’t kill him.

Instead, you shared his blood with your more monstrous employees and then left him, unconscious, in a ditch by the side of the road. Someone would find him. Eventually.

For you, though, it was time to call it a night. You returned to the bar to find your lovely staff closing up. After checking in with the bartenders (and ensuring that the leather-clad lass made it home okay) you sent everyone off for the night, ensuring them that you would be fine cleaning up on your own. With nods and smiles, everyone was on their way.

It was a strange feeling to be in the bar when it was empty. The place held so much pain in its walls that you could practically hear the screams if you were quiet for long enough. The suffering was palpable here, in the mirror behind the bar, and in each and every table and chair. Hopefully, under your control, things would change.

For the moment, though, you decided that music would cover up the screams well enough- like patching up walls with Mud (which is, very much, a real product you can patch walls with.) With a bit of a flourish, you turned the bar’s sound system back on. Broom in hand, you swayed around, cleaning to a very familiar song and successfully keeping the memories away.

#this is so fucking loooong :')#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #x reader #stranger things x reader #pay attention to the warnings #if you'd like me to add anything to the tags lmk #eddie munson x you

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person...

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day…

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be.

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

��.they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #ow ow ow ow ow #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #crap I have to reread this...#in for pain #sorry levi #went a little hard on you there

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Out Of Time ~ 140

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,325ish

Summary: The Starks receive unexpected visitors, that come with a plan.

Warning: Possible gif overload. Gifs aren’t mine. I just love Tony and Morgan.

Before the small Stark family knew it, it was October of 2023. And their house had become a wonderful home for them.

Morgan was four and almost the spitting image of her father. She was smart like him too. She loved working with her father in his workshop or playing outside in the tent Tony bought for her.

Y/N had got into gardening, especially because they were kind of far away from any grocery store. Tony was a willing helping hand and was slowly becoming a small farm boy. It bought a few small goats, an alpaca, a couple of chickens, two cats, and was planning on getting a dog for Morgan for Christmas.

Steve and Natasha only visited when Tony was gone or Y/N and Morgan went to them. Tony was still struggling to forgive after everything, and Y/N wasn’t willing to push Tony more than he had willingly done himself.

Y/N was currently in the kitchen, making lunch, while Tony was “being helpful”.

“Are these our gojis?” Tony wondered, looking at the bowl of berries.

“They are not,” Y/N answered as she cut tomatoes.

“What’s wrong with ours?”

“Your alpaca ate them all.”

“Oh.”

“All of them.”

Tony laughed, moving to the other side of Y/N. “What a glowing endorsement. First of all Gerald is our alpaca.”

Y/N scoffed out a small chuckle. “He’s not my alpaca if he’s eating my goji’s.”

“Okay.” He grabbed a handful of berries. “They’re gonna be nice in the salad right there, right?”

“No.” Y/N quickly reach over to stop Tony. “Don’t, don’t, don’t!” Tony looked at her with big doe eyes. “Could you put it down?” She gently pushed his arm away. “And get out of my kitchen.”

“Okay.” He turned towards the stove and crashed into some pots. “Whoops.” Trying to bite back a smile, Y/N looked up at the ceiling. “We’re good here, right?”

“Yeah, we’re great.” She got back to chopping. “Tell Madam Secretary that lunch is in five.”

“I will collect our alpha female, posthaste,” Tony replied, before exiting the house.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she focused back on the food. She was so lucky. So very lucky.

~~~

Tony walked down the porch steps, clapping out a beat.

“Chow time!” He called out to his daughter, heading towards her little play area. “Maguna?” He sat on a small chair outside of her tent. “Morgan H. Stark. Want some lunch?”

Morgan appeared from the fort with a suit helmet on and a fake suit glove. She had her gloved hand pointed at her father.

“Define lunch or be disintegrated,” she demanded in her young voice.

“Okay,” he ran his fingers down the helmet to the edge. “You should not be wearing that, okay? That is part of a special anniversary gift I’m making for mom.” He kissed the side of the helmet before removing the helmet from Morgan’s head and brushing the hair from her face.

“Okay.”

“There you go. Are you thinking about lunch? Wand a handful of crickets?”

“No,” she laughed.

“That’s what you want.” Tony held up the helmet. “How did you find this?”

“Garage.”

“Really? Were you looking for it?”

“No. I found it, though.”

“You like going to the garage, huh?” Morgan nodded as Tony lifted her up and set her on his hip. “So does daddy. It’s fine actually. Mom never wears anything I buy her.”

As they made their way to the house, a black car pulled up and parked in the driveway. Steve, Natasha, and Scott Lang stepped out as Y/N came out of the house to see what was holding Tony and Morgan up. They all were looking at Tony, who was avoiding Steve’s gaze and gave a slight nod to Natasha.

“Uncle Steve!” Morgan exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of her father’s arms. “Auntie Nat!”

Tony failed to keep her there, and let her run to welcome the guests. Y/N and Tony shared a look. They knew that, since Scott was with them, this wasn’t just a friendly visit. Y/N walked down the porch, to where Morgan was chatting Steve’s ear off in his arms.

“Hey, Mo,” Y/N called to her daughter. “Why don’t we go inside and make drinks for everyone? Then you can talk your uncle’s ear off.”

“Okay,” she sighed, turning to reach Y/N. Y/N took her from Steve.

“Please don’t ask anything stupid of him,” Y/N whispered to Steve. “He’s—we’re finally happy.”

Steve didn’t bother to answer, which Y/N huffed about before heading into the house with Morgan. Tony, Steve, Nat, and Scott gathered on the porch as Morgan and Y/N made drinks inside. Scott was explaining something when Y/N brought a tray of drinks out to Tony. She wished she could hear what they were talking about, but she needed to stay in with Morgan. Y/N watched from the window as she fed Morgan.

“Now, we know what it sounds like—“ Scott said, finishing his story.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve interrupted.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked, handing out drinks.

“Thank you.”

“In Layman's terms, it means you're not coming home.”

“I did,” Scott said.

“No, you accidentally survived. It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

“A time heist?”

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Oh, because it's laughable? Because it's a pipedream?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha stated. “We can bring everyone back.”

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony responded.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won't help if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise.” Tony sat down.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott replied. “That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events—“

Tony held a hand out. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back To The Future?”

“No.”

“Good. You had me worried there. 'Cause that'd be horse shit. That's not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony…” Natasha called. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did,” Scott was pleading.

Y/N could see that Tony was getting overwhelmed and she quickly told her daughter to go and save him.

“And now, now we have a chance to bring her back,” Scott continued. “To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even—“

“That’s right, Scott, I won’t even. I got a kid.”

Morgan ran up to Tony, who quickly set her in his lap. “Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony stood up, facing his friends. "I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six.”

“Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am. But this is a second chance.”

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” He headed inside.

“Talk to Y/N about it. Think it over.”

“No need. We can’t risk this.”

Tony entered the house, holding Morgan close. He went straight into the kitchen to get washed up for lunch. Y/N watched as their three visitors walked back to Steve’s car. Steve looked back at the house, making eye contact with Y/N through the window.

~~~

Tony was quieter than usual the rest of the day. This worried Y/N, but she couldn’t let it get to her. She needed to take care of Morgan. They made dinner together and Tony and Morgan chatted loudly over dinner. He even offered to do the dishes while Y/N tucked in Morgan.

As Tony finished the last of the dishes, he lost hold of the hose, causing water to spray everywhere. Including the small shelves beside the sink that held a photo of Howard and a photo of Tony and Peter. Seeing the photo of Peter slightly wet, Tony grabbed it to dry it off. Looking down he say Peter’s face. He missed that kid so much. He looked up, with a determination he hadn’t felt in a while.

When Y/N came down from tucking in Morgan, Tony was at a table. He was talking to FRIDAY and playing around with a hologram. She knew very well to leave him alone when he was like this, so she grabbed her book and curled up on the couch.

Tony was still going strong about an hour and a half later:

"Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out,” he told FRIDAY. “So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing,” FRIDAY responded.

“Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second.” He stuffed some food in his mouth.

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just kinda—“

“Model rendered.”

Tony fell back into a chair, in complete shock and amazement. “Shit!”

“Shit,” Morgan giggled.

Tony turned around to see Morgan sitting on the stairs behind him, large smile on her face.

“Sshhh,” Tony shushed, finger over his mouth. “What are you doing up, little miss?” He whispered.

“Shit,” she repeated.

“No, we don't say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?”

“'Cause I got some important shit going on here.” Morgan raised a brow at her father, not impressed. “What do you think? No, I got something on my mind. I got something on my mind.”

“Was it Juice Pops?”

“Sure was. That’s extortion.” He stood up and took his daughter’s hand. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on…” Tony looked back at the model before heading to the kitchen with Morgan, “…my mind.”

~~~

“You done?” Tony asked with a smile on his face. Morgan was lying in her bed, finishing a Juice Pop. “Yeah, now you are.” He took the popsicle stick before wiping Morgans lips with his sleeve and pushing her head onto her pillow. “That face goes there.”

“Tell me a story,” Morgan said.

“A story… Once upon a time, Maguna went to bed. The end.”

“That’s a horrible story,” Morgan giggled.

“Come on, that's your favorite story. I love you tons.” He kissed Morgan on the forehead as he stood up.

“I love you 3000.”

Tony grinned, “wow,” he mouthed, putting the popsicle stick in his mouth. He turned off her lamp and headed to the door. “3000. That’s crazy. Go to bed. Or I’ll see all your toys. Night, night.”

Tony shut the door and heading to the living room. Y/N was still curled up reading.

“Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000,” Tony stated as he came up to the side of the couch.

“Oh does she now?” Y/N questioned.

“You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range.” Y/N scoffed as Tony chewed on the stick and looked at the fireplace. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it's just a book on composting,” she responded.

“What's new with composting?”

“Just—“

“I figured it out, by the way.”

Y/N looked up at Tony. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing—“

“Time travel.”

“What? Wow… I… That’s amazing, and… terrifying.”

“That’s right.” Tony sat down on the other end of the couch.

Y/N reached over and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “We got really lucky.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

“No, I can't help everybody.”

“It sort a seems like you can.”

“Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony… getting each other to stop has been one of the few failures of our lives.”

He smiled lightly at her. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed.”

“But would you be able to rest? Cause I sure as hell won’t be able to… I’ll stand by your side no matter you choose.”

“You already know what I’ll choose though, don’t you? Cause you’ve seen in.”

“I haven’t seen it… but I know that last fight isn’t the last.”

“I just… I can’t lose you and Morgan.”

“You won’t.” Y/N grabbed Tony’s hand. “We’re going to do this. Together…” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “Your lips taste like Juice Pops,” she giggled against his lips.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.”

She shook her head before kissing him again, this time more heated. Tony pulled her onto his lap.

“What would you say to grabbing some Juice Pops and taking this upstairs?” Y/N panted slightly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” He placed on last kiss on Y/N’s lips before standing them both up. “I’ll grab the pops, meet you up stairs.”

“We have to be quiet though. Last time Morgan almost walked in on us.”

“Oh, don’t worry. FRIDAY won’t let that happen again.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Sorry about the time jump. Please send in requests for one shots or questions you want answered about the missing time. Try to be specific.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x rogers!reader #tony stark imagine #marvel x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x sister!reader #morgan stark x reader #morgan stark #morgan stark x mom!reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #tony stark #iron man x reader #iron man imagine

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I hope you’ll answer this question bc it bothers me quite a lot.. https://www.quora.com/What-does-it-mean-now-that-BTS-are-partial-owners-of-Big-Hit-Entertainment do you think it is true what the second person (Christine Herman) said? After reading this, i started to wonder…what if BTS does really have only profit in mind while doing new projects these days? Maybe they don’t really care anymore about creative and meaningful lyrics and sound? With Butter and PTD…all this generic music sung in English. Of course they say “we wanted to make fans feel good”, “butter and ptd represent who we are” and all these things fans want to hear but.. do you really think it’s true? moreover, don’t get me wrong, i don’t find product placement in their reality shows as something terrible, i believe this is a normal thing, however, nowadays the members really film ads and do marketing a lot. so yeah, for some reason i began to question their integrity dhsjjss i hope you will understand from where my concerns come from and won’t find this ask stupid sjdjjdjd

After reading that persons answer I can immediately tell you that I basically don't agree with an overwhelming majority of what she said (even more so since a lot of it just makes her sound like a manti that hates the company and basically would want them to make music for free or something). Generally I don’t agree with most of the opinions this person holds, and also Quora really isn’t a good source for info or good opinions, most of it is written by mantis, haters, and toxic shippers with an agenda so most ARMY will tell you to stay as far away from that website as possible.

Anyway, her focus in that answer was on money, since BTS are shareholders (and how that’s a conflict of interest despite other artists doing the exact thing but no one really cares or ever thinks about it), but what she failed to consider and note was that Big Hit Music, so BTS' label, isn't part of HYBE in the sense that shareholding has no baring on it since BHM is private. So while BTS profit off of HYBE doing well, and have a small percentage of a voice as shareholders, that has nothing to do with BHM in the classical sense, even if BHM's earnings reflect well on HYBE numbers and the shareholder money.

BHM was made private to ensure their artistry would remain untouched, that was the whole point of that.

Even if they weren't HYBE shareholders, take Namjoon as example. He has more than 170 KOMCA credits, is among the top 3 Korean artists with the most credits and is also the youngest of them all. It is said that his earnings from that alone can sustain his family for 3 generations over. Look at Hobi and Chicken Noodle Soup, that song was a hit and he paid the original creator of that song 2 million dollars upfront and earned a lot back due to how successful it was. Same goes for Hope World which, again, was and is still immensely successful. Look at Yoongi and his work both as prod. SUGA, featuring artist SUGA, and as Agust D, as well as the credits he holds for his work on BTS songs (giving him as well a total of over 100 KOMCA credits, just like Hobi). Bangtan have worked and continue to work extremely hard for their music, put their heart and souls into it, and it shows even if their style changed as they grew older and more mature.

Yes, money is a major motivator, but looking at the above paragraph, do you really peg the members as these corrupt money hungry sellouts with no music related integrity? Who would need to sign major deals and would throw away their passion to just release empty shells of music for the sole reason of money? Am I naive enough to believe that they don't care about money? Of course not, we live in a capitalist society and even if BTS wouldn't care about money anymore at this point, HYBE very much does, and yet still I can't find it in me to agree with any of what was said in that answer that person wrote.

More below the cut:

And that point about how Hyundai cars were sold out because of BTS, isn't that the point why literally any company ever hires celebrities to advertise and endorse their product? And sure, again, I'm certain they earned a lot on these deals, they aren't the first or last or only ones in the history of ever to do so. Besides, look at JK and what he's done for small companies, or Tae who wore a brooch made my a small creator at the airport which catapulted that creator into the eyes of millions of ARMYs enough so that they could move to a proper studio and earn money with their work. Or the modern hanboks JK wore which led to the brand being able to move into actual stores in malls because of their sudden new popularity and demand. Or him wearing a bracelet that helps whales with a percentage of the money from the sales of said bracelet. And for all of that JK and Tae didn't earn any money at all. JK himself said that he's more conscious of the brand he wears now because he wants to help smaller businesses in these trying times, not because they pay him to do so (especially since they would never be able to afford that), but because he's aware of the influence he has and how he can use it to help others. Sound very much like a capitalistic villain, right?

As for the product placement bit, have you been on YouTube recently? Have you noticed that many, if not most, YouTube videos by “bigger” creators (and by that I mean even people who are around the 100k subscriber mark) begin with them thanking whoever sponsored that particular video and give you a scripted minute to two minute long ad before getting into the actual topic of the video? And In The SOOP featuring Chilsung Cider, FILA clothes and the random mention of how good Samsung phones are isn’t much different from it, though really, if you’re not someone interested in fashion much, would you really notice or care that they wore FILA? It’s just...clothes? If it weren’t a BTS related show, would you even notice it much? And it’s not even like they mentioned those brands every five minutes or anything, just a few times, which sure sounded a bit out of place at times, but personally I thought it was easy to look past. That’s just how things work nowadays and it’s odd for people to behave like somehow BTS are the first and only ones to use product placements despite literally every movie and show doing it in subtle and less so manners.

The answer by that person you sent also mentioned the Hyundai song for their car IONIQ and, unsurprisingly, that person wrote it off as just some commercial jingle but I’d actually disagree with that. Not to sound like a Hyundai and Samsung stan, which I am neither of, but I actually think those two knew best how to utilize the artist they have spent millions on signing a deal with. Hyundai didn’t just write them off as pretty faces with a millions strong fan army behind them and that’s it, they remembered that they are musicians so they gave them a song and made a whole music video for it as well. And say what you will, it is a good song. Then, just a few days ago, Samsung stepped up their game and we were given Over The Horizon Prod by SUGA of BTS. For those who aren’t Samsung users, Over The Horizon is their signature ringtone and basically their company sound, and over the years different artists were asked to make their own version of it. And this time they reached out to Yoongi and asked if he’d like to do it as well. It’s kind of a big deal. Sure, Butter is used in one of their commercials much the way Dynamite was last year, but that’s beside the point. Would that person make the same claim about Imagine Dragons whose song Believer is also part of the ads for the new Samsung phones? I have my doubts.

Furthermore, and I don't want this to come across as mean toward you but, I think it is uncalled for to question their artistic integrity based on a total of 3 (three) English songs when last year alone we received 50+ songs, most of which were in Korean, among them the entirety of BE which was, according to the members, the album they were most involved in ever when it comes to both music and everything around it.

You can dislike their English songs, that’s more than fine, they have a very extensive discography you can listen to instead, but questioning their integrity based on them doing something that most, if not every, artist on their level does (as in sign ad deals with brands etc) is a bit much if you ask me. Does that mean indie artists whose songs get picked up for commercials (or for Netflix shows or movies) and thus it catapults them into the mainstream are also just money hungry people with no integrity and ones who don’t care about their music? Or is that, again, just a standard Bangtan is held to (as in that their integrity is questioned based on everything, even the most trivial/normal things) that only applies to them and no one else?

In the recent Weverse Magazine article about how Permission to Dance came to be there is a lot of talk about not only that song but also Butter and Dynamite, among the things being discussed and talked about they mentioned how the original lyrics for Butter were much more materialistic but that the members didn't like that so they asked for that to be changed. Likewise the original lyrics for Permission to Dance, as you'd expect from the penmanship of Ed Sheeran, were much more romantic, almost proposal like, which wasn't what the members wanted either so it was, again, adjusted in a way that would fit what they, as well as the A&R team, wanted. While you may not like these songs, they still had a say in them to a certain degree, could say yes or no and ask for adjustments. Why else would PTD take eight months?

While they might outsource their English songs, their main focus, so their Korean (as well as Japanese) discography is still centered around them, their lyrics, their songs, their sound. Of course you’ll also find outside producers and some lyricists on those as well, because that’s how music works these days, as in collaboratively, that doesn’t change anything at large. Their integrity is still very much there, their hearts are still in it, what other reason would any of them have to say that they want to continue for a long time, for Yoongi to say they want to figure out how to make their career last as long as possible, for JK to say that he wants to sing forever?

Admin 2 also wanted me to add that in their opinion, to a certain degree (though not fully of course), their English songs are like a way to laugh at and expose how shallow the English-centric music industry is. As in, while they made music in Korean with deep and meaningful lyrics, the US industry didn’t care but once they switched to easy to listen to sound with easy to understand English lyrics, they suddenly paid attention, are played on the radio, and even received a Grammy nomination which they wouldn’t have gotten for a Korean song ( A1: regardless how much Black Swan or Spring Day really would’ve deserved it...).

#answered ask #BTS #hybe entertainment

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obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts · 4 years ago

Note

I’ve been silently reading for a bit now and love your posts. I was wondering if it was possible to do a poly MC, who had a facial deformities like facial tumors, and another demon making fun of them to the point of tears.

I've only known one person with something similar, and he's a very kind man. I imagine it's hard being stared, and even harder being made fun of for something you can't control and can't hide.

Hopefully I do this justice! It's mostly a comfort fic because tbh anything too specific makes it a bit harder, and insults are always specific. For instance, when I was in school I got called Hitler because my last name is extremely German. Teachers endorsed it, but I don't think anyone else could relate to that specific scenario. Thanks again babe 💞

Lucifer

He's extremely concerned when he finds you crying, tucked away in the corner of your room.

And when you explained what happened, he becomes extremely angry.

You see, before any of this happened, the two of you had talked over your concerns.

Human schools aren't always kinda to things they don't consider to be 'normal', and seeing as humans aren't inherently evil creatures, you were extremely worried about what demons could possibly say or do to make you feel less than.

He assured you that if anyone said anything, you needed to tell him, and he would deal with it.

He does.

Actually, they all do.

It's kinda like a cliche organized-hit on someone. Except, Lucifer is sentencing demons to ISS and making sure his brothers do everything in their power to scare the living hell out of them.

Word gets around and no one ever negatively comments about how you look, act, talk, ext. ever again.

Mammon

He witnesses it first hand, right at the entrance of the cafeteria.

You hadn't spotted him yet, no, you were too busy trying to move passed two demons leering over your form.

He could hear the harsh words coming from their mouths. Aggression and hatred he only though could exist in movies.

But, maybe it's a demon thing, a pure demon thing, because none of his brothers have ever been so cruel.

He immediately jumps into action, yelling and shaking his fist like some old fellow.

The demons are quick to scurry, but it's a bit too late by that point. You're already crying.

He comforts you with shakey, loving whispers and warm touches, promising you that you two can just skip the rest of school if you like. Lucifer won't mind after all. Not with everything that's happened.

You two can go to lunch else where or sit at home and binge TV until you feel better, yeah? Whatever you want babe as long as you promise you don't ever believe a word those guys say.

Leviathan

He sees read the minute he realize someone is picking in you.

Whether it's from fighting with people online or his repressed rage from being picked on himself, he isn't giving any mercy to the assholes who dared to make you cry

It really doesn't help the situation, for the most part.

In the moment it makes you stressed, you cry harder and a crowded gathers to watch one of your boyfriends beat up a demon for insulting you.

But later, it makes you feel proud. Like, you wish it wasn't so violent, but he defended you, and honestly, you're so happy to have that. Sometimes people wuss out, or don't see why words can be so hurtful, so having someone who does and is so ready to defend you is nice.

Satan

He's fuming when he finds you crying.

Satan doesn't even need to know why, he just knows he's pissed because you're upset and you shouldn't be. Not to this extent at least.

Like sure, silly tears resulting from a TV show are fine and what comes from grief is unavoidable, but these heavy drops of despair will not fly. You should never be upset to this extent.

When he discovers the exact reason as to why you're sad, he's set on getting revenge.

But first he comforts you, letting you know that you're beautiful and whilst it is hard to ignore the hurtful words of many, you must remember you have seven men waiting for you at home.

You're worth love, no matter what those asshole said.

(Then he proceeds to rip the lesser demons a new one. He handles it alone, thankfully, because if he hadn't the guy would be dead. They never bother you again.)

Asmodeus

Now, Asmodeus is a bit of an asshole himself.

He's known for picking apart people's appearances and style, but when it comes to you, you're the exception.

(Yes, he still makes the "I'm still prettier" comments, but that's honestly the biggest compliment you can get from Asmo at first. The longer your relationship goes on, the more you'll be put above him.)

When he comes across you sobbing on your phone, he's extremely quick to action.

He'll begin by tagging both the demons on his page, publically calling them out for their bullshit. (Which, may be controversial considering how old these demons would be as humans, but Asmo is like a beauty guru and doesn't care.)

He doesn't really have to lift another finger, but he does.

There's like five spammed post of you and the two of you together with long, loving descriptions.

They're so wonderful that it kinda overwhelms all the awful things that had been said about you.

Beelzebub

Baby boy is angry.

He's ready to tear apart the entire school

But he doesn't because he recognizes you need him now. You need his reassurance, and his strength, before he goes causing chaos.

He'll hug you, encasing you into a tight hold.

Once you calm down a little, he'll text the others to handle it, because he knows he can't really leave you at the moment.

Beel distracts you for the remainder of the night. Lots of snacks, lots of kisses to your face, and lots of cheesy movies he hopes will make you smile

He'll make sure everyone knows how much he loved you, and that includes EVERYTHING about you.

Belphegor

In any situation, he's very quick to get you to one of the others, because he's not going to be an extremely comforting presence.

He's enraged, and Belphie is not exactly known for being the best at controlling himself in these situations.

Someone is going to have to stop him, or calm him down at the very least. Rage is clouding his view, and everyone knows he's going to get himself hurt if he doesn't think.

Once he's settled down (or settled the matter, either works), he'll come home, rip you away from whoever is currently comforting you, and cuddle you to sleep.

It's like having a weighted blanket. You feel secure, and you'll fall asleep knowing you've got an amazing support system that knows you're absolutely beautiful.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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holyhellpod · 4 years ago

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4. Fambily

In this episode, we skim the surface of the fambily dynamics in Supernatural, which are--ah. Dicey at best.

Apple | Spotify | Google

Transcript under the cut!

Content warnings: domestic violence and family abuse

[Growl]

Ah, the Winchesters. Where do we even start. Unhinged, deranged, and continually traumatised in every way, Sam and Dean complete each other. At least, that’s what the show wants us to think. Despite the ways they betray each other, lie to each other, and piss each other off, they are fambily. And fambily is the most important thing. The concept of Fambily in the show Supernatural (2005-2020) takes many twists and turns throughout its run. In the first five minutes of episode one, the heteronormative, nuclear family of John, Mary, Sam and Dean is ripped apart by an unknown, antagonistic force that represents all the evil in the world. It creeps into a nursery and eviscerates a white, blonde mother while preying upon a 👶, I mean, how much more evil can you get? It’s fantastic that, in the later seasons especially, Supernatural embraces this idea that fambily doesn’t end in blood, but blood doesn’t always mean fambily. By the end of the series, the fambily concept has expanded to include two dads, an aunt and uncle, and a thirty-year old infant. I’m going to talk about the finale in its own episode, so that my ire will have its proper outlet.

When the show starts, Sam, Dean and John have each other, and only each other. By the time season 2 really kicks off, Sam and Dean don’t have John anymore, but they do have Bobby Singer. The concept of the triumvirate follows them throughout the series as though they’re in a less sexy Italo Calvino novel—first Sam, Dean and John, then Sam, Dean and Bobby, then Sam, Dean and Ruby, then Sam, Dean and Cas, then Sam, Dean and Mary, then Sam, Dean and Jack. It’s broken in seasons 13-15 when Cas comes back and they have a family of four, and then five when Mary can stand to see her boys.

But the Winchesters are not the only fambily in Supernatural who matter. In season two, we’re introduced to the Harvelles, mother Ellen and daughter Jo, who are a hunting fambily who run a hunter pub in the middle of whoop whoop. A pub that Eric Kripke famously hated, and rejoiced when he burnt it down at the end of season 2, because the Winchesters and by extension everyone they know aren’t allowed to have anything good ever. It’s revealed in season two episode “No Exit” that John got Jo’s father killed on a hunt, which obviously affects Jo more than it does Sam and Dean.

[Editing note:] Okay I’m editing this episode, and I’m not happy with it. I’m not going to scrap it completely because I think I do have good points to say, but the general analysis of this episode is so surface level. It is basically contributing nothing to the conversation. And I started this podcast in order to actually contribute something to the culture. I could make a bunch of text posts on tumblr or I could spend hours and hours and hours and hours of my life to something that — I don’t know. Is it bringing me joy? Not at the moment. But, yeah. So I’m not going to scrap this episode completely but this is my way of saying from now on the episodes are going to take as much as they will take and I will commit myself to having deeper and more thoughtful analysis. And if I have to spend an entire episode on one aspect of one thing, I will. I could be at university right now studying a masters or a PhD in fucking literary analysis but instead I’m sitting on my bed making a Supernatural podcast because it brings me joy. It does. It really makes me happy and I don’t want to abandon this project, because people are listening to it. I don’t know why, I don’t know what you like it about it, but you’re listening. And I just think I owe it to myself to make things that I support 100%. So I’ll continue this episode and hopefully this rambling hasn’t put you off it completely. But from now on, I’m going to really, really talk about things that matter in regards to Supernatural… Kind of an oxymoron. Kind of a contradiction. But things that contribute to the cultural consciousness instead of just rehashing the road so far. That’s all I want to do. I want to contribute. I want to say good…ful things. Okay this is making me happy. It’s already working, it’s already making me happy. I’m just going to keep rambling and laughing. Okay so, more thoughtful analysis, deeper analysis. Things that make you think. Things that make me think. Instead of just a bunch of words that mean nothing. Okay, continuing on.

Okay to figure out which episode this was I had to watch a little bit of season two, and I’m still on my season 13 rewatch. The difference between the two seasons. I don’t know if I can even put into words the growth this show has gone through, and the characters have gone through, over the last 15 years. It would be like summarising my own growth by combing through my extensive diary collection and the years of societally- and governmentally-enforced heterosexuality that has plagued my entire life. Those boys are babies in season two. The bootcut jeans alone. Sam is literally 23 years old. I don’t even talk to 23 year olds. I block them on social media.

The Harvelles are a blip in the Winchester map. While the actors Samantha Ferris and Chad Lindberg did attempt to resuscitate their cultural currency months after the show ended by participating in an event — okay I can’t. I can’t even go into it. Like, clearly Samantha Ferris heard back from her representation as soon as she started posting those tweets and realised she wouldn’t continue to get money if she endorsed, well, the gays. And Chad Lindberg was just using the clout to push his Etsy wares like a 14th century merchant, so I gotta respect the hustle. But Jo and Ellen die in season 5 episode “Abandon All Hope” and are barely mentioned again except the episode Ash appears in, season 5 “Dark side of the moon,” Jo in season 7, “Defending Your Life,” and Ellen in the season 6 episode “My heart will go on.” They didn’t exactly leave what you would call a lasting impact for the next, you know, ten seasons.

To be honest, I’m not sure when it’s revealed that Bobby’s wife died after being possessed by a demon. It’s made clear in season 5 “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid,” and I did not have to look that up, because season four and five are burned into my retinas like a particularly nasty sun flare. Bobby outlines the horrific way he killed his wife, because why not throw some spousal violence into the mix, and later in season 7 “Death’s Door,” it elaborates on their life together. I saw this sentiment expressed on TikTok, which we all know as the foundation of cultural knowledge, which was that fambilies don’t need to be two parents and children. Fambilies can be spouses or partners. You don’t need to have children in order to be a fambily. I think that’s a very nice sentiment and I’ve chosen to adopt it for these purposes. Bobby and his wife Karen are a fambily. While Karen wants kids, Bobby chooses not to have them for fear of becoming like his father and repeating the trauma he inflicted on Bobby. Bobby and Karen’s fambily dynamic is ruptured in the same way that John and Mary’s is—by an intrusive, demonic force that brings Bobby into the hunting world and ends Karen’s life. But by the time we see him at the end of season 1, Bobby is already ingratiated into Sam and Dean’s lives as their surrogate father, and this bond only deepens as the show progresses. Bobby expresses the sentiment to Dean to not be like John, that Dean is already a better man that his father ever was. Isn’t that what we all want to hear? That we have superseded our parents and outgrown them in ways they could never comprehend? Don’t we just want to be better than the generations that came before us, in order to mould a better world for the generations that come after us? Don’t we want to make things easier for our children, and our friends’ children, and our siblings’ children? Dean is a better man than John, and Bobby is better man than his father ever was. It’s about breaking the cycles of intergenerational trauma. I have to believe that Sam, Dean and Bobby did this, because then it’s possible for me to do the same thing. Include here that speech about representation in media that I didn’t bother writing for the last episode. Bobby is the surrogate father to Sam and Dean, a better father than John was, a better hunter even. He crafts an entire network of hunters who report to him, as seen in the season 6 episode “Weekend at Bobby’s,” and he continues to act as Sam and Dean’s mentor until his death in season 7 “How to win friends and influence monsters”. An alternate universe version of Bobby is introduced in season 13, which I have my reservations about, and he and Mary get together, which again, why. Season 13 is so hard to sit through.

A fambily that is introduced late into the series and is simply NOT given enough screen time is the Banes fambily. In season 12, “Celebrating the life of Asa Fox,” we are introduced to the Banes twins, Max and Alicia, who are by far the most gorgeous hunters we’ve seen in the series. They are hunters raised by a witch, Tasha Banes, who doesn’t appear yet, and they manage to survive the trial by fire that is overcoming the demon Jael. Later in this season, in the episode “Twigs and Twane and Tasha Banes,” both of which are written by the late great Steve Yockey, we are introduced to Tasha in a way that seems awfully familiar: Alicia calls Sam to say their mother has gone missing on a hunt, and hasn’t checked in in a few days. By the end of the episode, Alicia and Tasha are dead, and Max has ostensibly sold his soul for the power to bring Alicia back. The Banes twins’ storyline directly parallels Sam and Dean’s from the pilot, but it’s a tragedy from the outset. We already know Tasha is dead and they can’t save her, however, like Dean does for Sam at the end of season 2, Max chooses to save Alicia at the expense of his own soul. Spin off when. Banes twins series when. I’m waiting. They were in two episodes and I’m still thinking about them. The Harvelles are dust.

In season 7, “Reading is Fundamental,” a waifish 17 year old honour’s student Kevin Tran breaks into a rehabilitation facility to steal a tablet. This starts a chain of events that ingratiates Kevin Tran in the apocalyptic, death-succumbing world of the Winchesters, starting with Dick Roman, head leviathan, and continuing, but not culminating, with his death at the hands of Gadreel, who was possessing Sam, it’s a whole thing. Any time you attempt to summarise anything on Supernatural, you sound like a lunatic. And I say that as someone who has a supernatural podcast, with an audience of only supernatural fans. We are lunatics, but we’re lunatics together. Kevin’s arc was cut way too short, but we at least got to see him with his momma Linda in the beginnings of season 8 with the unfortunately named episode “What’s up, Tiger Mommy?” It introduces Linda Tran as a capable and worldly woman, hell bent on protecting her son. She offers up her soul among other things in exchange for Kevin and the tablet with him. During the episode, she is possessed by Crowley, and Dean attempts to kill him, which would mean killing Linda as well. Kevin considers this the ultimate betrayal and leaves with his mum. Later in season 9 episode “Captives,” Linda is reintroduced as a captive of Crowley, who escapes with Sam’s help. Back at the bunker, she reunites with Kevin, who is now, thanks to the Winchesters’ incompetence, a ghost 👻. My macbook keeps suggesting little emojis in the smart bar so I just gotta put ‘em in. That’s the last we see of Linda, so I’m drawing my own conclusions about whether she gets to live a long and happy life. Kevin is a fan favourite and despite my reservations about Osric Chau which I will not get into like ever I really like Kevin too. He outsmarts Crowley many times and shows remarkable tenacity to get an impossible job done. His desire to see his mum again, the driving force behind his actions, mirrors Dean’s desperation to have his fambily together again like they used to be. I would call this a parallel but I don’t believe they purposefully did this, I just think they accidentally rehashed the same tired storyline they’ve been peddling since 2005. But yeah, if I was Kevin and all I had was my mum, seeing her again would be the driving force for my actions as well. Kevin’s father is never mentioned, and it honestly isn’t a big deal, which is great. Sometimes fathers are just absent, and you don’t need throw a hissy fit about it or make it your entire personality, Dean.

Missouri Moseley, played by the inimitable Loretta Devine, is introduced in the first season, episode “Home,” in which she helps out on a case involving Sam and Dean’s childhood house. We find out that Missouri is a long-time friend of John’s and helped him to understand that supernatural forces were behind Mary’s death. She is Sam and Dean’s first point of entry into the world of the Supernatural, and they didn’t know it until they meet her in “Home”. In season 13 episode “Patience,” another layer to Missouri’s character is added with the advent of her family: estranged son James and granddaughter Patience Turner, who is also a psychic. We get a lot of backstory for Missouri in this episode, even if it is sloppily written and contradictory to the way they initially set her up. If Missouri and James had been travelling when he was a child, why was she stationed in Lawrence in both 1983 and 2005? What did he mean that Missouri was hunting? I can’t be bothered unpacking the confusing bits of information presented in this episode. It’s not a good episode and I really don’t see why everyone goes apeshit for Bobo Berens. He kills Missouri in this episode, in a really horrible way. Like the history of Supernatural’s racism and misogyny should not be dumped on one man, but nor should it be perpetuated and it is continually throughout the entire show. Confusing, contradictory and badly written backstory aside, she is an interesting character, and her willingness to sacrifice herself to save her family echoes that of Mary in “Home”. I’m actually really mad that Patience never gets to have a relationship with Missouri, and later in season 13 episode “The Bad Place,” Patience’s father tells her that if she leaves to help The Winchesters and uses her psychic abilities, she’s not welcome back in his house. To me that’s just unnecessary. We have a family that has already been ruptured by the death of Patience’s mother, further ruptured by Patience’s father cutting off contact with Missouri, and then to go a step further he disintegrates their family unit by kicking Patience out. Like how much loss do the Moseley-Turners have to endure? It’s really just cruel at this point. But Patience does find family with Jodie, Donna, Claire, Alex and eventually Kaia, and while I love the concept of found family and this found family in particular, it comes at the expense of biological family, which is something that the show has pushed from the very first episode. So that’s evolution in itself. Going from “fambily is the most important thing to these characters” to “found fambily is where we find love” is great, but ripping apart a biological fambily like the Moseley-Turners, and indeed starting the episode by saying Missouri has been shunted out of her son and granddaughter’s lives for trying to bring her son comfort, is just fucked. Like, I couldn’t name a single Bobo episode that I actually like without having to comb through them. I’m trying really hard not to shit all over him because as a writer I know how much that sucks and I know how hard is it for any marginalised writers to get a start, but I’m allowed to have my vendettas.

If you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, and only if you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, you will understand just how jacked up the angel family really is. The angelic counterpoint to Sam and Dean are the archangels Lucifer and Michael. We are introduced to two different versions of Michael—one in season 5, who possesses their dad in 1979 and their brother Adam in 2010—my god that was literally over a decade ago—and Apocalypse World Michael, played by four different actors: Felisha Terrell, Christian Keyes, Jensen Ackles, and Ruth Connell, who plays Rowena. I don’t know what in the hell Jensen Ackles was doing performance-wise when playing Michael, but I consider it a federal crime akin to drug trafficking or money laundering. As for Christian Keyes playing Michael, Andrew Dabb, you know what you did and you’re going to have to live with that.

In season 5, during the apocalypse, Michael and Lucifer only interact in the last episode, “Swan Song,” but the entire season is built around their conflict. Lucifer disobeyed their father, and Michael as God’s most powerful weapon must defeat him. It’s meant to mirror Sam’s descent into, uhhhh, badness or something, disobeying John to run away to Stanford, or, like, drinking demon blood? It’s unclear. Lucifer and Apocalypse World Michael interact in season 13, and Michael kills Lucifer only to take over Dean’s body and start a season-long arc of, like, bad acting and barely thought-out plots. I would say to Jensen Ackles “don’t quit your day job,” but this is literally his day job.

The angels as they’re introduced in season 4 are warriors of god, and all they know is obedience and killing. Even Cas can’t break out of the cycle of killing his angel siblings, and often justifies it by saying that it’s for the greater good, that he needs to do it to take down a stronger force like Raphael or Metatron. Anna manages to break free of her family by falling and becoming human, but when Cas betrays her and the angels capture her, she is lobotomised, tortured and sent back out to kill Sam. Then she’s burned to a crisp by Michael possessing John, not the last time a woman would burn to death on this show. The angels are dysfunctional at best, and actively hostile to each other, especially Castiel, the infamous spanner in the works. I could write an entire academic paper about how the angels think of Castiel as this rebel slut who murdered his way to the top and is going to be the downfall of angel kind, but Dean thinks of him as this little nerdy guy with a harp he carries around in his back pocket. Which honestly Cas would love because he’s obsessed with Dean and wants to touch his butt. I don’t know what else I can say about the angels without turning this into a dissertation, so I’ll continue on.

While all seasons of the show are about family, season six is especially about matrilineal family. It introduces the concept of the mother of monsters—Eve—and focuses on Mary as a solution to the loneliness the characters feel after her death. Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father, is brought back to life and manipulated by the promise of seeing his daughter again. He asks Sam and Dean what they wouldn’t do to see Mary again, which is kind of the general thesis of the show. What wouldn’t John, Dean and Sam do for each other? Dean sells his soul. John makes a deal with the demon who killed Mary. Sam teams up with Ruby to kill Lilith in revenge, which begins as a suicide mission because he doesn’t know how to handle his grief for Dean. The difference is that Samuel betrays Sam and Dean, his own grandchildren, for the promise of seeing Mary again. This cardinal sin alienates him from being a good guy, because good guys never betray Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean are our protagonists! Our heroes! The bringers of the light! The knights in shining armour! The white on rice. The cherry in cherry pie. They are the ones we’re meant to align ourselves with, because it’s their story the narrative is telling. And anyone who doesn’t align themselves with the Winchesters is an enemy who needs to be defeated.

We’re introduced to the character of Gwen in the first episode of season 6, “Exile on Main Street”, and she says in the episode “Family Matters” that Samuel, the patriarch, doesn’t like her very much because she reminds him of Mary. While Samuel, Christian, Gwen and co are technically family, Dean has no connection to them past bloodlines. And as I said before, while family doesn’t end in blood, we learn throughout this season that blood doesn’t always mean family. Gwen dies in the episode “And Then There Were None,” because of course she does, and Mary doesn’t come back, at least not in this season.

In “Family Matters,” the alpha vampire, played by the irreplaceable Rick Worthy, mentions that “we all have our mothers,” referring to Eve, the mother of monsters, the one who spawned every other monster and who has been trapped in purgatory ever since. Eve is pulled from Purgatory to wage war against the hunters and Crowley because they have been preying on her first borns, the alphas. I love Eve. I love her. She’s my favourite villain after Metatron. Mainly because I think she is like… sexy as hell. Like wow I am just so attracted to Julia Maxwell and this, like, bored smokey affect thing she does where she barely moves her mouth when she speaks and her strong brow makes her seem so intimidating. I don’t know anything about her personally, but I feel like she would’ve bullied me in high school, and I’m into it. It’s really hard to judge just from this one role whether she’s a good actor because Eve has such limited range and few things to do, but I really wish she’d gotten more screen time. Yeah, she’s doing the bare minimum and I’m completely obsessed. But Eve isn’t just a monster, she’s literally THEE milf. The original milf. And I really think she should’ve stayed around, but since they kept Lisa alive they had to kill at least one high profile woman.

Continuing with the family storylines in season 6, Dean tries to establish a family with Lisa and Ben, and for the most part succeeds. He gets a job, plays the role of the doting boyfriend and stepfather, and protects them as best he can. I’m going to spare you the rant perched at the tip of my tongue about how this is at best a lavender marriage or staying together for the kid, and that Lisa only exists to be an ideal for Dean, not an actual partner he can grow with throughout the rest of the show. It’s his first attempt at a fambily outside of Sam, Bobby and John, and it fails miserably because Lisa isn’t a good match. The fact is, she will never be able to fit into the hunting world because of the way the writers wrote her—as mother and girlfriend archetype, and we’ve seen how well they do with those—in fact they actively paralleled it in “Exile on Main Street” where they had Dean hallucinate Azazel coming back and pinning Lisa to the ceiling. It couldn’t be more obvious that they don’t respect her. At least they didn’t fridge her for Dean’s man pain. It’s honestly horrible because Dean put so much effort into believing this was his one chance at happiness, and when it crumbles like a tim tam in hot tea he beats himself up for it and uses it as an excuse to never be happy.

He does seem to be happy for the most part with Lisa, but because Sera Gamble doesn’t know how to write interesting or complex female characters, when Sam reenters the picture it once again becomes about the original premise: two brothers on the road, fighting the forces of evil. There’s no room for any women in that sphere. Up until this point I think—correct me if I’m wrong—there has been one female hunter who survived, and she was in one episode. The hunter Tamara in season 3 “The Magnificent Seven,” whose husband died in maybe the most sadistic way anyone has died on this show. Don’t rewatch it, just google it. All women die, including Mary, their mother, who is brought back in season 12 and killed in season 14. AND FOR WHAT? For WHAT Andrew Dabb.

Often, the loss of a parent, child or significant other is used to excuse bad behaviour and terrible choices. The hunting life causes Mary’s whole family to die before she can escape it, and because she makes a deal with Azazel for John’s life, the same demon John makes a deal with, Azazel kills her anyway. John abused his kids and brought them into the hunting life, because he was obsessed with getting revenge for Mary’s death. Sam does the same thing when Jess dies in the first season, and it starts a 15-season long arc of pain and misery. He sets Lucifer free in the season four because he is obsessed with getting revenge for Dean’s death and obsessed with the power drinking demon blood gives him. Then again, Sam is actually right for saving people by exorcising demons, which is literally the first part of the family business motto, instead of just gutting them with the demon knife, but because Dean doesn’t agree with it, it’s bad. Sam always wants to do the right thing, he just gets a little caught up in the details. But you know what? Bloodfreak rights.

When Cas dies in season 13, Dean is so overcome with grief, a grief that echoes John and Sam’s, that he mistreats Jack and threatens to kill him. In season 14, Nick, Lucifer’s vessel, boo snore hiss, kills everyone involved with the murder of his wife and child before he finds out that it’s actually Lucifer’s doing, and then he tries to raise Lucifer from the empty because he’s addicted to killing? Whatever, stop employing Mark Pellegrino. Stop writing men as obsessed with getting revenge

The biological fambilies in Supernatural suck shit. Honestly every time I watch an episode about fambily I’m even more glad I don’t talk to mine. Dean and Sam need to spend some time away from each other, while they’re both still alive. Their fambily dynamic gets better as the show progresses, and I was pleased to see in season 12 that they do away with the codependency, constantly sacrificing themselves for each other, isolating themselves, betraying everyone they know for each other—they started to act like, you know, normal people. And that’s good. Sure, the show would not be anywhere without John sacrificing himself for Dean, and Dean sacrificing himself for Sam, and honestly that’s what made those first few seasons amazing. But after a while it becomes lazy writing, not parallels. A parallel that Supernatural pulled off is Sam comforting Magda in season 12 episode “The Survivor” in the way he needed to be comforted in season 1 and 2 as a psychic child. A parallel is Dean preparing Cas’s body for cremation in season 13 in counterpoint to the way Cas remade Dean’s body in season 4. This show can absolutely do parallels, some of the most beautiful parallels ever put on screen, but the last season was such lazy writing that I cannot forgive it.

This has been an overall negative episode of Holy Hell, and that sucks. I don’t want to be so negative. I want to talk about the good things that Supernatural did, and share in joy with you all, so now I’m going to talk about the only positive I see with fambily in the entire show.

For Dean, everyone older than him is a parent to disappoint, and everyone younger than him is a little sibling to protect. Cas is the exception, as there’s no way to define Dean and Cas’s relationship without acknowledging the reciprocal romantic ways they care about each other. Dean says on multiple occasions that Cas is like a brother to him, and that he’s Sam and Dean’s best friend. He actually drops the line, “After Sam and Bobby, you are the closest thing I have to family,” on Cas in season 6, and he acts like it’s nothing, but you can see in the expression on Cas’s face that Dean just recontextualised the entirety of Cas’s being in one sentence. Cas falls for Dean, gives up his family for Dean, and decides to follow him in the first act of free will we see on screen. And Dean, who has never known love without pain, says to Cas, you are fambily to me, I actively choose you, you belong in my life. But to belong in Dean’s life is to follow his plan, and when Cas doesn’t, he is punished for his hubris. Dean loves him, and he never even admits it.

Charlie becomes like a little sister to Dean, as does Jo. Jack is unequivocally Cas’s son, but becomes something of Dean’s son as well and some would argue Sam’s son. Claire becomes Cas’s daughter, but imprints so much on Dean that many, myself included, have come to consider Dean her father as well. If you subscribe to the idea that Dean and Cas are old marrieds, Dean would be Claire and Jack’s stepfather, and they would be a nuclear fambily all on their own. In season 14 “Lebanon,” when John says to Dean that he thought Dean would have settled down with a fambily, Dean says, “I have a fambily.” Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.

Cas chooses to be a part of Claire’s life in season 10 “The Things We Left Behind” because he feels guilty about what happened to her after he possessed Jimmy, but after getting to know Claire he cares for her. The crime that is Claire and Cas not interacting after season 10, my god. That’s his daughter, you ghouls. But Claire and Dean do get more moments together. Dean, Sam and some British guy save Claire from turning into a werewolf, and Claire and the rest of the Wayward Sisters save Sam and Dean from the Bad Place. The Wayward Sisters are a found fambily all on their own, and since I could devote an entire episode to Jody’s little brood, I have chosen not to talk about them much, because this episode is at least half an hour, 34 minutes, and it would take up too much of my time. Claire is one of my favourite characters and I’ll be talking about her in the next ep, so stay tuned for that.

Even before Jack is born, Cas becomes his protector. He goes from trying to convince Kelly to end her and Jack’s life, to being her pseudo-husband and the surrogate father to her child. To me personally, it’s the best thing this show has ever done. Cas, Kelly and Jack love each other in a way that is so wholly uncomplicated, that is so pure and so good. Once Cas becomes Jack’s protector, there’s never any question of whether they would hurt or betray each other. He is Cas’s son, his baby boy, and he loves Cas so much that he resurrects Cas from the empty. When they meet for the first time in season 13 “Tombstone” after Cas comes back, they fit into each other’s lives so easily. This is the part in writing this where I was absolutely sobbing my dick off. There are so many moments between them that show the kind of love that each of these characters deserved. Sam and Dean deserve to have that love from their father, and so does Cas. And together they build a family unit around caring for Jack that does indeed end the intergenerational trauma that plagues the Winchester fambily.

And that’s why season 16 is so important to me. I can make things better. Dean sorts his shit out, all of his shit: his alcoholism, depression, ADHD, borderline personality disorder, suicidal ideation, sexuality, gender, the fact that Cas is literally the love of his life and he gets to save him from the Empty the way Cas saved him from Hell. They plant flowers in the field where Dean spread Cas’s ashes in season 13, and they get married at Jody’s cabin with all their loved ones left alive. Claire walks Cas down the aisle and Jack is the flower girl, because he’s literally a three year old baby. Sam and Eileen raise a bunch of rugrats and the Wayward fambily continue the hunting legacy and have a Sunday afternoon roast every week. Dean and Cas raise Jack right, they cut up oranges for soccer practice and watch all his school plays. He and his cousins grow up knowing what it’s like not only to be loved, but to be looked after, to have all their needs met. They grow up normal, and the trauma that plagued their family is a thing of the past. It’s good, you know? It’s just fucking good.

#transcripts #episodes #supernatural #spn

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naralanis · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Review!

Thanks @mssirey for the tag! I totally didn't have a crisis with the very last question, not at all bwhahaha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

41, soon to be 42. ASJKLDBLAHSDSD how. And also why. But mostly, how.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

565,934 EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I was going to check my unpublished works but ya know what. Maybe I've written enough akdjsa

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Technically speaking, I've written and published fics for five fandoms. However, I only have one story for OUAT (and I have @shadowdianne to thank for that... or do I?) and one for Captain Marvel. Mirandy was my first love, Cissamione the second, and Supercorp has burrowed in my brain and just won't let go.

I've also technically written for Xena, Legend of Korra, and Criminal Minds, but since I never published those, we're going to pretend they don't exist!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Only two are WIPs! YEAH! They're the top two, but WHO CARES, here they are:

1) Perhaps, aka my baby, my child, my darling, the apple of my eye. If I ever had to choose to finish only ONE of my WIPs, this would be the one. This story has grown with me, and I think you can tell when you read. Or maybe not!

2) For the Better. If the former is my baby, this one is like... my moody teenager. I love it dearly, but... it takes a lot out of me. An ode to one of the first fandoms I actively wrote for, it sits unfinished, but nearly, oh so nearly done. I will finish it, damn ittt.

3) The Date. Honestly, this one really surprised me -- it's one of my oldest one-shots, and something I definitely dashed off between lectures back in Scotland, maybe alternating with FtB chapters. It's one of my first attempts at humour, I think.

4) Bits and Pieces. AYY, I wasn't sure Supercorp would make the cut, WOOOT! This one was the second Supercorp fic I ever wrote, and I did it because Lena Is Baby and the idea just wouldn't leave my brain.

And lastly, the fabulous number 5... Perfect. AKA Nara's First (published) Explicit Fic, featuring Praise Kink and an Enchanted Dildo (for... reasons). I'm not gonna lie, I am so HAPPY this one made it, because it has a special place in my heart. It's where Soft Butch Hermione comes to life, and if you don't love Soft Butch Hermione, I'm sorry, we can't be friends. I love her.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Eeermmm... some? I do want to respond, but I'm terrible with keeping up with comments, I really am. For whatever reason, even when I do my best, I don't really love responding directly on AO3. I also turned off all email notifications for AO3 because turns out my brain WILL be distracted by even a single one.

I'm much more responsive on Tumblr, I promise!

6. A fic you've written with the angstiest ending:

Any of my Narlily works, I guess? Like... All Flowers Wither or Carry On.

Unshackled would be another one, though it's Cissamione... but I caved and made a happy(ish) second part for that one.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Nope! Crossovers just don't do it for me, generally speaking (reading or writing).

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

EvEr rEcEIvEd hAtE-- yes. Oh, yes. I've been told my writing is terrible, I've been told my stories were a 'waste of time,' or 'overhyped,' I've had people tell me there was only One Way to write a certain pairing and my way was definitely Not The Way.

The list goes on.

It used to really, really bother me--still does, but in a much smaller way. Delete/Block buttons are my friends.

9. Do you write smut?

I write an absurd amount of smut. I just don't publish any of it because. Fear.

My pretty, pretty pens have created some filthy, filthy things.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A couple of times -- only once or twice like, straight up attributed to someone else who acted like they were the one writing it. The other times were reposts or translations (without my permission, so still. stolen).

11. Ever had a fic translated?

I've authorized a couple of translations of a few of my DWP works. I'm usually cool with people translating my stuff IF THEY ASK ME FIRST and GIVE ME PROPER CREDIT.

9/10 it's some Brazilian who translates it to Portuguese without my permission and then gets upset when I, another Brazilian, do not endorse it and politely ask them to take the thing down. Thankfully it's been a while. ASK ME, DAMN IT.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nothing published bwhaha!

13. All-time favourite ship?

Right now SuperCorp is definitely barking a little louder, so to speak, but I don't really have one favourite overall. It depends on the fandom, sometimes! Cissamione is very dear to my heart, because it's just so fucking out there and literally every one in this ship has some of the most fascinating headcanons for this pairing and it's just. So wonderful.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

Eeeeuuughhh.... Right now? Probably The Appraisal. I forget what I wanted to do with it, I'm not sure if I'm still feeling the premise... IDK.

I think the same could be said of For the Better, but I PROMISED to finish it, and GOD DAMN IT, I am so close I can't throw in the towel just yet.

15. Writing strengths?

You want ME to say good things about MYSELF? I'm still learning how to do that asldkjbasdn it's a work in progress. But I think I'd say... maybe world-building, at least on my longer works?

I would also like to think I do pretty OK in... IDK, some of the punchy stuff? The 'oh wait a minute' moment? IDK if that makes sense!

16. Writing weaknesses?

Organizing. Plot (HAHA IKR). Consistency. Editing (which is rich from someone who literally edits shit for a living... but go figure). Pacing. Weirdly long sentences? Commas for DAYS.

I could go on.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I am a-OK attempting it in French/Spanish/Portuguese. It may not sound natural, but it will be correct. If I'm trying another language, I'll definitely get help! But I've got no problem with it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Harry Potter, Dramione specifically, and you'll never find a shred of it. I was like 12, and almost a decade later I figured out Hermione was much better off with Draco's mother.

19. What's your fav fic you've written so far?

DON'T MAKE ME CHOOOSE asdkljasdl I CAAANNN'TTTT

I mean, obviously Perhaps is one of them -- it is my baby, that has been established. I think Little Bumps in the Road is also up there, because it was just a random writing exercise that got out of hand, and honestly? I'm here for it. Andddd.... I GUESS I'll put A Valentine's Evening up there as well, because it was the first time I didn't second guess every word I wrote when posting smut. I just... felt it, went for it, wrote it, and it felt really, really good to release some of that into the world lol

WHEW, this was a long one! I'll be tagging @intheinkpot, @shadowdianne, @delirious-comfort, and @16-pennies because I am a curious bastard. But, as always, feel free to treat this as an open tag. Go nuts!

#tag game #this was illuminating in several ways #aka i need to finish my wips #(though that ain't exactly news)#but more importantly #i've written way more than I think I have #and ya know what #it's OK to be proud of that #i am proud of all my children #and i love them all equally #*side eyes Decisions Decisions Decisions*#even you #nara rambles

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theladyofdeath · 5 years ago

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Alone in the Ashes {5}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Dinner at the Archeron’s, part 1.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

Azriel sat on a bench in the middle of the courtroom.

Mila was with Rhysand, out for breakfast, before he had to go into work.

It had been a long week. After Amarantha had shown up at his apartment after being released from the hospital, she enlightened him that she would have a hearing, and was not expecting good news.

You fucking overdosed, again. Mila found you, couldn’t wake you up, and went to your neighbor’s house...A four year old! Azriel had spat at her. You have fucking drugs in a house with a toddler! It’s not your fucking four year old’s responsibility to save your ass.

Amarantha hadn’t said anything back. She simply nodded, and brushed it off.

They’re going to send me to jail, Az. To prison. For a long time. Amarantha almost seemed guilty at that, but the haunted look in her eyes didn’t last long. She was shaky, jittery, unnerved. Her mind wasn’t really there. Her mind was still on whatever it was she was recovering from.

Now, he watched as Amarantha sat before the judge.

He didn’t feel guilty, felt no remorse, as she was charged.

Possession. Distribution.

When I get out, she’s going to be a young adult, at the least, Amarantha had told him as they sat around his kitchen table, four days earlier. Believe it or not, Azriel, I do love my daughter.

Azriel shook his head, but had nothing left to say.

I want you to take her, Az. Care for her. I have told them as much, social services, through my lawyer. That you are her only relative, and that she’s close to you.

She was selfish, cruel, and Azriel had been forced to put up with way too much of her shit over the years.

But he couldn’t have Mila going into a home.

“Twenty years in the Velaris state prison,” the judge said, at last. “You will be detained straight from here. Mercifully, I will give you a moment to say goodbye to your family.”

The judge dismissed the courtroom, and a pair of burly cops followed Amarantha to where Azriel stood.

“You didn’t bring my daughter?” she asked, brows raised.

“As someone who just lost twenty years of their life, you don’t seem too bothered,�� Azriel muttered. “And, no, I didn’t think she should have to watch her mother be dragged away. Again.”

Amarantha shook her head. “At least bring her to visit me?”

Azriel didn’t respond. “I have to go meet with cps and make sure Mila isn’t thrown into the system.”

Like we were.

Much to Amarantha’s protests, Azriel turned his back to her and walked out of the courtroom. He didn’t know why he hated Amarantha more: because she was a selfish bitch, or because she reminded Azriel of his mother.

It was an addiction. Azriel understood that. It was called an addiction for a reason, it was hard to shake, hard to stop, hard to get rid of. But, it still pissed him off. It all pissed him off, unbearably.

Azriel had been eleven when he got home from school and found his mother, unconscious on their living room floor, again. Only that time, she hadn’t woken up. After that day, he was forced into the foster care system, tossed around from home to home and eventually placed with a couple, and Amarantha, none who could care less about him.

All because of that damned, selfish addiction his mother had.

That Amarantha had.

His meeting with cps hadn’t lasted long. Amarantha had told them about him, she was honest about that. Perhaps in some way she did care about Mila, even if she didn’t show it.

They did a background check on him. The only thing they found was a few speeding tickets and that one time he spent the night in jail, at seventeen, because he’d had too much vodka at a party.

“Look,” Azriel said, once they said they had heard enough and would give him a call. “I love my niece. And she needs me. She knows me, she trusts me, she’s stayed with me for half her life. You can’t put her into foster care. I was in foster care, it’s...you can’t put her into foster care.”

The woman behind the desk smiled softly at Azriel. “I’m just the interviewer, but I will pass the case along, and they will give you a call soon, I promise. You’re Mila’s only relative, aside from your foster parents, but they don’t wish to have a part. You have no criminal record. You have your own home. I see no reason why they would not leave Mila in your care. When they do call, and they approve of her staying with you, there will be paperwork to fill out. We will have you back in the office at that time. Until then...comfort that child. She just had her mother taken away.”

Again, Azriel added, silently, for the hundredth time that morning.

“Thank you,” he said, attempting a smile as he stood and left the office.

Azriel made it to his truck and shut himself inside. His eyes closed in the silence. Deep breath in, slowly let it out. Repeat once, twice, three times.

He had to go get Mila from Rhys so that he could go to work. Azriel had to get to work himself, work on the garage at the Archeron’s.

All he wanted to do, though, was sit in silence for a minute. Five minutes. Ten.

Fuck addictions.

Fuck substance abuse.

Fuck it all.

Azriel leaned his head back against the truck seat and ran his hands through his hair. He thought of his mother, then realized he could barely remember what she looked like. He remembered the dark hair, like his, the hazel eyes….he could also remember she always had dark shadows beneath her distant eyes, that she was way too thin. He remembered the way her hands shook.

He couldn’t remember what she looked like when she smiled.

Azriel put his car in reverse and left the courthouse.

He kept the radio off.

~~~~~

“You’ll be there tonight, right?”

Nesta had said yes every day since Elain asked at the beginning of the week. “Yes. Seven?”

“Six, I thought we could have drinks while dinner is being made,” Elain beamed. “Oh, Nesta, I’m so excited. So is dad. Feyre’s bringing Rhys along. Oh! Is Tomas excited? We can’t wait to meet him.”

Nesta froze. Tomas. She had completely forgotten. “Oh, I-”

“You’ve never brought a boy home,” Elain continued. “I mean, this is monumental! He must really be special.”

“About that-”

“I hope he likes chicken. He does like chicken, right? I mean, everyone likes chicken. What’s his drink choice? Bourbon? Rum? Or, is he just a beer kind of man?”

“Elain-”

“Oh, I’m so happy, Nesta. This house deserves a little party. For once, it won’t just be me and dad.” Elain sighed. It was the first time Nesta had heard her become excited in quite some time. “I’ve got to run to the store. I’ll see you at six, right?”

Nesta’s eyes shut. “Right.”

“Okay, bye!” Elain beamed, hanging up.

Nesta was left sitting in her apartment, groaning. “Fuck!”

Tomas had left. To go where? Nesta had no idea. He hadn’t called, but he texted a few days before saying he was leaving town. Even if he had been in town, the chances of him going to a family dinner were slim. He wasn’t the family dinner type.

Nesta dug through her purse for a cigarette, but the box was empty. She had to make a drug store run before she completely lost her shit.

There was one on the corner that she made it to in five minutes, and after fueling the tobacco industry, which even she didn’t happily endorse, she was walking back home, a cigarette between her lips.

“Do you ever have a good day?”

Nesta twirled around.

Cassian was walking toward her, sweating, his dog on a leash.

“You look pissed,” he went on, “literally at all times.”

“And you have a way of sneaking up on me when I don’t want you to,” Nesta drawled. “Which is always.”

Cassian chuckled. “Well, whatever it is today, hope it gets better. The drink offer still stands. Come over if you wanna get hammered.”

A thought entered Nesta’s mind, but she quickly pushed it away. No. She would not become desperate. She would go to dinner, alone, and tell Elain and her father that there was no Tomas, not anymore, that even Nesta drove away a worthless bastard like Tomas Mandray.

She would endure their disappointment and answer all the questions they had. She would absorb their sympathetic glances and be told, Don’t worry, a man will come along some day by her father, just as he did when she was in high school.

The thought made her want to vomit.

“You’re free tonight, then?” Nesta blurted.

Cassian stopped midway up the stairs, on the landing. He turned around, brows raised. “Coming for a drink?”

“Eh - no. I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner,” she grounded out, attempting to sound pleasant, but fully realizing she was not.

Cassian blinked. “Dinner? With you?”

Nesta nodded, slowly.

She needed a shot.

Or two.

Cassian grinned, hazel eyes glowing. “Yeah. Alright. That sounds...interesting enough for a Friday night.”

Nesta scowled. “Be ready at five-thirty.”

Cassian’s grin widened as he nodded, turned back around, and walked his dog up the stairs.

Nesta had a feeling she should go back to the drug store and get a bottle of tequila.

Which is exactly what she did.

She would need it.

~~~~~

“Mor and Amren will both be here tomorrow afternoon,” Feyre called from the bathroom, where she had just finished drying her hair and was applying her makeup. “We should all go out tomorrow night.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand agreed, his voice quiet from his bedroom. “We should.”

“Have you heard anything else from Az?”

“No,” Rhysand said, and she could hear him sigh. “I can’t believe Amarantha….what a bitch.”

Rhysand had his own reasons for hating Amarantha, on top of her putting Mila in harm’s way. They had dated for a little while the summer after high school, even though Amarantha was a few years older than them. She was a bitch then, too. Amarantha moved on from Rhysand fairly quickly, her drug problem got significantly worse, and then she got pregnant.

“Poor Mila,” Feyre agreed, putting on a pale, pink lipstick. “At least she’s got Az.”

Rhysand agreed and met her in the threshold of the bathroom. He looked impressed, eyeing the gray sundress she wore. It reached halfway down her thighs, the fit loose, but hung low enough across her breasts to catch an eye.

“You look nice,” he smiled.

She shook her head, unable to stop a smile of her own. “You say that like I hardly wear anything cute, ever.”

When Rhysand didn’t answer, she punched him in the shoulder, and he laughed, and that tingly sensation filled Feyre to her very core. It had been happening more within the last week. She would catch Rhysand, watch him when he wasn’t aware, and find him attractive, want to run her fingers through his hair, across his skin. She would lay awake at night, pleasuring herself, and it would be his body, that chest covered in ink, that she would picture.

And he had no idea.

And she would keep it that way.

“I do prefer you in your scrubs and sweatshirts, yes,” Rhysand grinned, eyes mischievous. “But, the dress looks good.”

“Thanks for coming with me,” Feyre said, zipping everything back up into her makeup bag. “My dad always liked you.”

Rhysand nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, humor fading. “Of course.”

Feyre pushed past him, her shoulder brushing along his arm, as she hurried into her room. “Should I wear sandals?”

“I assume they’ll come off the minute we walk through the front door, so does it really matter?” Rhysand asked, following her and dropping himself onto the side of her mattress.

“Yes,” Feyre said. “It does.”

Rhysand chuckled. “Fine. Yes, sandals.”

“Brown or white?”

Rhysand pretended to think about it for a long time. Too long.

“You are the worst at helping a woman get ready,” Feyre laughed, bending down to observe the shoes in the bottom of her closet.

Rhysand snickered, but he didn’t deny it. His eyes lingered as he watched her bend over. “Wear the black ones.”

Feyre gave him an intrigued glance before pulling on her black sandals and looking at herself in the floor length mirror.

She turned to Rhysand, brows raised. “Good enough to impress my father, whom I haven’t spoken to in months?”

“Well,” Rhysand began, eyes soft, “I think you look beautiful. Who cares what he thinks.”

“You’re too nice to me.” Feyre meant it as a joke, but her voice came out quiet. She had a feeling her cheeks were turning pink, but she hoped that they weren’t, or that he didn’t notice.

He was watching her, his gaze unwavering.

And then he sucked in a breath, stood, and smiled. “Well, ready? We should get going.”

Feyre nodded, that feeling still flying about wildly in the pit of her stomach. “Ready.”

“Alright. Let me get my shoes and my wallet.”

He left, and Feyre finally let out the breath she felt she’d been holding.

The way he was looking at her…

She didn’t think she was imagining it anymore.

~~~~~

Elain had a long list of things to do that day and she had managed to get through them all. Now, she was at her final stop, a flower stand outside of the grocery store. Her reusable bag was tossed over her shoulder, full of goods that would make up their feast. Now, she needed to arrange a beautiful centerpiece.

“A dozen tulips,” she smiled, once the owner had asked what she would like. “Pink and white, please.”

He nodded and gathered a bundle before wrapping them up and handing them over. Elain paid, thanked him for the beautiful flowers, and stepped to walk away.

“Lain!”

Elain spun around, smiling at Mila, who was running toward her, Azriel close behind.

“I didn’t see you today,” she said, wrapping her arms around Elain’s legs. “I missed you!”

Elain had spent every day for the last week playing games with Mila while Azriel worked. She was a great kid - kind, funny, polite. Elain enjoyed her time with the little one.

“I’m sorry I was gone. I had a lot of errands to run today. My sisters are coming over for dinner tonight. It’s a big dinner.”

“Ah, Rhys mentioned that,” Azriel said, taking Mila’s hand to keep her from straying on the busy sidewalk. “We weren’t there too long, today, anyway. Had some stuff to get done this morning, unfortunately. Took longer than expected.”

Elain nodded. That may have been the most he’d said to her at one time. Azriel was distant, she noticed, not having to speak unless spoken to. He hadn’t said a word to her all throughout high school; but, then again, she hadn’t spoken to him either.

They were from two different circles, two different worlds.

“Well, I hope everything is okay,” Elain replied, quietly.

“I like your flowers,” Mila’s little voice popped up, before Azriel could respond. “They’re sooo pretty.”

Elain smiled and knelt down so that she met Mila at eye level. “Which ones do you like better? Pink or white?”

“Pink!” Mila said, then stuck out her foot. “They match my shoes.”

Elain laughed, softly, as she nodded. “You’re right, they do.” She pulled a pink tulip from the bouquet and handed it to Mila. “Bring this home with you and put it in a nice big cup of water. Make sure it gets sunlight, too.”

Mila’s eyes went wide and she threw her arms around Elain’s neck, who laughed and patted her back, trying not to lose her balance.

“I will,” Mila promised, smiling at the flower, her flower.

Elain stood back up to find Azriel watching her, curiously.

“Well,” Elain began, cheeks heating. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

Azriel nodded.

“Okay,” Elain breathed. She turned back to Mila. “Bye, Mila.”

“Bye, Lain,” she smiled.

As she turned to walk away, Azriel called out, “Elain?”

She turned around.

He was rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. For the flower. And for watching her, too.”

Elain nodded. “You’re welcome.”

She walked away, wondering if he was watching her walk away, but too nervous to look back and find out.

On the walk home, her mind wandered. She wondered what their story was, why Mila was staying with her uncle. They seemed to have a strong bond. She wondered what had happened to Mila’s parents.

Azriel didn’t seem like a horrible person, either, no matter how intense he seemed to be around her. She remembered the first conversation they had, when he told her that he remembered her from high school, and what he remembered her for. Cheerleader. Valedictorian. She was perfect, goody-goody Elain Archeron, top of the totem pole.

Oh, how far she had fallen on that totem pole.

She wondered what Azriel thought of when he looked at her, wondered if he truly got to know her what he would think of her, then. But she wanted to know him, wanted to dig inside of his mind. He was mysterious, a notorious rebel - at least, he had been. She didn’t think much had changed since high school. He was still mysterious, still unreadable.

And utterly handsome.

Elain got home and started marinating the chicken before finding one of her mother’s old vases and setting the flowers inside with water. She set it in the middle of the table, took a step back, and smiled.

Even with one pink tulip less, it was breath-taking.

~~~~~

Nesta pounded on his door at five-thirty.

When a second passed and he didn’t answer, she pounded on it, again.

“Hold the fuck on!” he shouted, then she could hear his heavy footsteps.

The door swung open and she rolled her eyes. He’d yet to put on a shirt, but he was wearing jeans and his boots. His hair was tied back and his eyes were amused.

“In a hurry?” he asked.

“Yes, we have to be at my dad’s in half an hour,” she muttered.

He lifted a brow. “Already meeting your dad, am I?”

As he went to grab his shirt off the couch, Nesta sighed, “Look. I’m not….on the best terms with my family right now, and my sister has been going through a shit time. She was excited about me bringing my boyfriend, but he bailed a few days ago. I couldn’t tell her that I’d be coming alone, because that would just open a huge can of disappointment, which is basically what I’m known for in my family. So, I asked you to come along and take his place.”

Cassian watched her while the words poured out as he buttoned up his shirt. “I see. So...I’m your boyfriend, then?”

“Pretend,” Nesta added. “Obviously.”

Cassian tilted his head. “And here I was, thinking you had finally come around and wanted to spend time with me.”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t come if you don’t want to. You know what? This was a mistake-”

She turned to leave but Cassian beat her to the door. He leaned against it, crossed his arms, and grinned. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come. I’m great with parents.”

“What?” Nesta asked, exasperated.

His grin grew. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come.”

Nesta shook her head. “I’m not saying that.”

The dark barked from the corner, sensing her tone from where he laid on his bed.

“Down, Bryaxis,” Cassian ordered, eyes still on Nesta’s. “Say it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll please you,” Nesta snapped. “And I don’t want to please you.”

“Fine, then I’ll stay here, me and Bryaxis will have a drink or two…”

He stepped away from the door and opened it up, gesturing for Nesta to leave. She wanted to slap him in the face, punch him in the balls, but all she managed to do was stomp toward the door, eyes narrowed.

And then she imagined Elain’s disappointment and her father’s endless string of sympathetic questions.

She stopped at the threshold and looked at Cassian, seething. “I want you to come,” she whispered.

“What?” Cassian asked, pointing to his ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”

“I hate you,” she mumbled.

“Hmmm?” Cassian crooned.

“I want you to come,” she said, over-pronouncing each word. “So grab your fucking keys.”

Cassian’s hand flew to cover his chest, right over his heart. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Fuck off,” she mumbled, before exiting his apartment, her middle finger raised high in the air.

Cassian’s laughter just pissed her off more.

They got into his truck and he drove, the radio on a random rock-station. The sun was bright, although it would be going down soon.

“So, if I’m playing the part of your lover, I should probably know a little bit about you.”

Nesta sighed. “Fine. What do you think is important to know?”

“What did you do after high school?” he asked, eyes still on the road.

“Worked,” Nesta said.

And when she didn’t say anything more, Cassian looked her way. “Mind telling me where?”

“Odd and end jobs, mostly. The last few years I was a bartender, but I got fired this week.”

Cassian was quiet. Then, he said, “Sorry to hear that.”

Nesta shrugged and looked out the window.

“What do you like to do for fun?” Cassian asked, hoping to take on a lighter tone.

“Read,” Nesta said. “Drink.”

“Together?” Cassian asked, brow raised.

Nesta snorted. “Everything is better when you drink.”

“Agreed,” Cassian smiled.

“I prefer we keep my current lack of employment a secret for the night,” Nesta mumbled. She didn’t want to give her father any fuel.

“I can do that,” Cassian agreed. “Anything else I should know? How did we meet?”

“At the bar,” Nesta suggested.

“At the bar?” Cassian asked. “How romantic.”

“Trust me, no one will be surprised,” Nesta said, under her breath. “Up here, first house on the right.”

Cassian pulled into the driveway and parked behind Rhysand’s car.

It was going to be an interesting night.

~~~~~

Elain was a natural planner, she was completely in her element.

Feyre caught her eye every now and then and smiled. It had been a long time since they all were under the same roof.

The front door opened and Nesta stepped inside.

She wasn’t alone.

“Cass?” Rhysand asked, looking back and forth between him and Nesta. “The hell are you doing here?”

Cassian smiled, arm flung around Nesta’s shoulder. She tensed, but quickly relaxed. No one could say anything more before Elain hurried in, carrying a tray of cut fruit.

“Hi! You must be Tomas,” she smiled. “I’m Elain.”

Feyre opened her mouth to say something, but when she did, she came up speechless.

“You can call me Cassian,” he said, smiling in that charming way of his. “Tomas is my middle name, and Nesta prefers it. Apparently, Cassian is a shit name.”

Elain blinked. “Oh, well, nice to meet you, Cassian.”

“You, too,” he said, before walking into the room and taking a seat by Feyre.

As Elain went to finish up dinner, Feyre turned to face him. “What the fuck?”

“Long story,” he muttered. “Play along and I’ll fill you in later.”

Feyre had met Tomas before and she was perfectly aware that he and Cassian were two very, very different people. She also knew that her sister didn’t know Cassian that well, so asking him to come was her being desperate.

Feyre had never known Nesta to be desperate.

Nesta sat, too, although she didn’t acknowledge Feyre. Feyre didn’t care, didn’t think anything of it. Her and Nesta had hardly talked in years.

Her eldest sister stayed quiet while the others chatted and ate Elain’s fruit platter. Half an hour passed before Elain appeared, once more, and invited everyone into the dining room.

“Where’s dad?” Nesta asked, the first words she had spoken.

Elain’s smile faltered as they all took a seat. “I’m not sure. He said he would be here-”

The front door burst open, and through the opening of the dining room, they could see Isaac stumbling inside.

His brown eyes were wide when he looked up and met everyone’s stares. “I’m-I’m sorry I’m l-late.”

Feyre’s shoulders fell as she looked over to Elain.

He was trashed.

Her eyes were wide, her lips parted at the sight of their father, clearly disheveled, clearly drunk. “Dad, it’s family dinner night, remember?”

“I know, I know, yes,” he said, hurrying into the dining room and taking a seat. “I-I said I’d be here. This looks delicious, Elain, you did wonderful.”

Elain cleared her throat and tried to smile. “Well, let’s dig in, then.”

Feyre loaded her plate with chicken and vegetables, looking around the table as she did so. Rhysand had moved closer to her, as if sensing her discomfort. Nesta was staring at her plate, empty. Elain was picking at a pile of broccoli. And Cassian didn’t know what the hell was going on.

“You must be Nesta’s boyfriend,” Isaac said, looking at Cassian. “What was your name?”

“Cassian,” he provided.

Isaac shook his head. “N-No, I don’t think so.”

Cassian took a bite of corn. “Pretty sure my name’s Cassian.”

Isaac looked confused, but he shook it off. “Nesta, I-I’m glad you came. I-I didn’t think you w-would.”

Nesta’s mouth tightened.

The table fell into silence as everyone picked at their food.

“What have you been up to?” Isaac asked, looking at Nesta, then to Feyre. “What have any of you been up to? I don’t hear from either of you anymore.”

“Just work,” Feyre said, so Nesta wouldn’t have to. “I broke up with Tamlin a while back. I’m living with Rhys in the city.”

Isaac looked at Rhysand, eyes wide as if just realizing he was there. “Finally a couple, are you? That’s-That’s great. I always kn-knew you two would end up tog-g-gether.”

Rhysand paused, but continued eating a second later.

“Just friends, dad,” Feyre said.

Isaac scoffed. “Whatever you say. We all know w-what’s really going on.”

“Dad,” Elain breathed. “Could you not?”

“And what about you, hmm?” Isaac said, eyes on Nesta. His fork had a piece of chicken stabbed on the end, but he wasn’t eating it. “Are you living with this...Cassian?”

“No,” Nesta answered, shortly.

“Still scared of commitment?” Isaac asked, leaning over the table on his fist. “She always had trouble with that. Never trusted anyone, pissed off at the world.”

Nesta said nothing.

Her plate was still empty.

“I think she’s doing just fine,” Cassian assured him.

Feyre was still looking at Nesta, on the way she concentrated on the white porcelain disk in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time they were all together, especially in the same room as their father. Nesta and her father never gotten along, but it had really gone down hill after their mother passed.

“Still making drinks for a living?” Isaac asked, as if Cassian hadn’t said a word. “That’s what I hear you do. M-make drinks.”

Nesta didn’t answer.

“You always get so angry that I’m not there for you,” Isaac slurred. “But here I am, as-asking about your life, and you’ve got nothing to say?”

Nesta slowly looked at her dad. “You’re drunk.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “I am not.”

Feyre shook her head, and just as she was about to speak, Nesta beat her to it.

“You really think we don’t know when you’re intoxicated?” Nesta laughed, humorlessly. “We’re not children. And we’ve seen you drunk plenty of times. Elain tried to prepare this nice dinner and then you come in here acting like a teenager who snuck into his dad’s liquor cabinet!”

Isaac shook his head, finally setting his fork down.

Elain looked like she was about to cry.

“You c-can’t talk to me that w-way,” Isaac said, voice quiet. “I am your father.”

“Dad-” Feyre began, but Nesta held up a hand, cutting her off.

“I am a grown ass woman,” Nesta said, with a deadly calm. “You’re an embarrassment.”

“Me?” Isaac asked, brows shooting up into his hairline. He looked to Cassian. “Run now, son. This one is going nowhere with her life.”

“Please,” Elain breathed. “Stop.”

Rhysand had his hand on Feyre’s knee under the table to keep it from shaking.

“I think you should go up to bed, dad,” Feyre said, lifting her chin. “Sleep it off.”

“No,” Nesta said. “Let him say what he has to say. Drunks always tell the truth.”

Isaac stood and wavered on his feet. “Your mother...good thing she didn’t wait to see how you turned out.”

Elain gasped, and Isaac turned to leave.

But as he did, he fell to the ground, out cold against the hardwood.

The room was met with silence.

“Help me get him upstairs,” Feyre mumbled.

Rhysand nodded.

Elain was in tears.

Nesta was fuming.

Cassian was sitting in his chair, perfectly still.

Feyre grabbed her father’s legs as Rhysand lifted him up from under his arms. As they carried him up the stairs to his bedroom, Feyre felt like she was in high school all over again.

Family fights.

Taking care of her drunk, passed out dad.

Isaac telling Nesta that their mother would be ashamed.

Yeah.

Just like high school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

@photofeesh

@mariamuses

@tswaney17

@amaranthas-whore

@awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr

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@wifeofchrishemsworth

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@humanexile

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@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

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@negativenesta

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@flora-and-fae

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@girlgotattitude448

@eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader

@lord-douglas-the-third

@thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #feysand #nessian #elriel #tacmc AITA

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evermorehaikyuu · 4 years ago

Text

Day 17

Title: Love vs. Exertion

Note: I’m not going to lie to you, it’s like my brain got worn out and started sleeping in the middle of the whole thing. So I apologize if it’s wack (it is), it’s very, very, VERY lighthearted angst, it’s not going to tear your heart apart.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

Love versus work was something that people from every industry. Most people choose a job that would be easy for them to maintain and head back home to their family at night, maybe even spend a weekend with them. There was, however, one industry which was utterly difficult to balance home life and their work life without the press coming for them. The entertainment industry, so hard to get into and so easy to get kicked out.

Semi Eita had chosen this career field even with that idea in his mind. Every single day, he came back, exhausted from all of the work he had done on that day in the studio. Y/N was always waiting for him at the door without fail. Already having cooked his favorite meal, she quickly led him inside and watched as he collapsed on the couch, chuckling softly. “Bad day?”

“My producers are reviewing the song I wrote.” Semi mumbled into the pillow. “I tried my hand at it but I think it’s better if someone else wrote the songs.”

“It can’t be that bad, they’ll probably fix a few parts up and try to make it, well, as you as possible.” Y/N said, walking over and rubbing his back slowly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Semi muttered, turning over and pulling her down with him. Hugging her close to his chest, he let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes. This was the only moment he had waited for everyday, he wanted to stay like that as long as possible. It was just a moment for both of them to forget everything else, but the other.

As much as he wished he could stay like that, it was out of the question. His work was difficult and it was already hard enough to keep the fact that Y/N was his lover. If the press discovered that, they’d ruin her life.

He had already told himself never to let anything or anyone ruin her life.

“......And if you sign this contract, they can make you bigger than ever. You’d be going to other famous places, there’s no way that your career won’t be influenced by this.” Semi’s agent told him, a placid expression over his face, but his tone said everything. He wanted Semi to take the deal. His agent would be taking 15% of the endorsement, mainly the reason why he was subconsciously pushing Semi the “right” way.

“Only if Y/N can come with me. I’m not going anywhere without her.” Semi said stubbornly. This was the reason why he had rarely taken these opportunities: if Y/N wasn’t coming, it was a straight no. She was the only thing grounding him to reality and leaving without her? Not an option.

His agent sighed, already having gone over this millions of times with him. “Semi, we have discussed this, she can’t come.”

“Why not? She’s not even going to be doing anything, she’s just going to be there for me. Don’t you ever think I get tired of having to smile and wave?”

His agent thought about it for a while, making Semi apply more points to his argument. “Just let her come. She won’t bother anyone, she’ll just stay in one room. I’ve told her that I’ve only left like seven times in my whole career and the next time she’d come--”

“No.” The agent looked at him sternly, crossing his arms. “She’s not part of the team. She’s not a stage designer or part of your prep team. She’d be extra weight. Either take the deal or find another agent.”

Semi clenched his fists. So here it was. Here was the point where he’d have to choose between what he’d have his career and his love. He knew it’d destroy Y/N if he left when he had promised last time that he wouldn’t go anywhere farther than Japan without her.

“Fine. I’ll leave her behind.”

Y/N had happily opened the door for him, the aroma of food wafting through the air. He immediately felt guilty at the news he’d have to tell her. It felt like a punishment to even admit that he’d choose money over love. Then again, he was doing it for the both of them. Right?

“How’d today go?” Y/N said nonchalantly.

He hesitated for a second. “Fine.”

She shook her head, glancing at him. “If you think you’re fooling me, you’re wrong. Something’s up, tell me.” She guided him over to the couch, sitting him down and staring at him. “Was it the studio again?”

“They offered me...another opportunity.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly, but enough so that Y/N could hear him. “It’s a good one too, it’s out of the country and it could probably take my career a step further.”

Her eyes lit up at the thought of going with him to foreign places and watch him rise up as he rightfully should have. “What did they say? Can I come with you? Where are you going? How long are you going?”

Just the sound of her happiness broke him inside. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news but here he was, about to do it anyways. “They told me….they told me you can’t come. We’re heading to the major cities. I don’t know how long I’m doing it for, they didn’t give me an exact date.”

It was a domino effect. Y/N frowned at him and said monotonously, “But you promised that I’d be going with you next time.”

“I know, but they told me I couldn’t--”

“Wait. Did you already take the job?”

Semi couldn’t look at her as he said his next word. “Yes.”

Y/N stared at him, not believing that he had made a promise and not kept it. Then again, what could she have expected? With a job like his, it was difficult to make sure their love life was under wraps, much less give up a great opportunity. However, it was different when Y/N was on the receiving end of this whole ordeal. Trying to keep her emotions under control, she kept speaking. “So you’re leaving for, what, the eighth time?”

He could visibly see her battling her rage internally. But along with that rage, he could see something else in her eyes that made him falter. Heartache. Both of them had been together since their third year in Shiratorizawa and she had happily obliged to be with him every step of the way, even though he was taking this career field. Never had she broken her own promises, but she was understandably pissed off at him. However, it didn’t mean that he was going to let this once-in-a-lifetime chance pass by. “I have to take it.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “So let me get this straight. I have to sit down and watch you go to other places without you thinking about me at all and before you say anything, you’re just like the rest of them. They say, ‘Oh, I’ll never forget about you, you’re the love of my life!’ But never once do they choose the right thing.”

“Oh? The right thing is choosing love over money? You do realize I’m doing this for the both of us.” Semi uttered, his anger bubbling. Why couldn’t she understand? “I have to go and do this!”

“Then go! You certainly don’t seem to need me at all, why even stick around when you’re gonna choose something else! What about me?”

“What about you?” He said, snark laced in his voice. “You’re practically nothing next to me. Compared to other musicians I could’ve been with, I chose you. Out of pity.”

Y/N took a step back, staring at him with her eyes wide. “This isn’t you that’s talking. The Semi I know wouldn’t say stuff like this. You aren’t the man I fell in love with anymore.”

“I never fell in love with you.” Semi spat. The words sunk in, a stunned silence breaking in between them. Once they were out in the open, the wound had been struck, there was no taking them back anymore. “Wait, Y/N--”

Too late. She had turned around and walked out of the house without anything. Semi had half a mind to go after her but after what he said, it’d take a miracle for Y/N not to run away from him.

Months later, coming back from his tour, he had hoped that Y/N had it in her heart to welcome him back in her arms. It was something of a stretch when he knocked on the door and someone else had opened it. A complete stranger. Semi’s eyes widened as he stammered, “S-Sorry, wrong address” and quickly went onto the street, calling Y/N.

The wrong number picked up. He ended the call as soon as he started it and started panicking, looking around. He could only think of one person that he could stay with while he tried to find Y/N. “Kawanishi!”

“Hey, Semi, what’s wrong?”

“I-I--” Semi had just seen Y/N walking down the street, chatting animatedly with another man who he had never seen in his life before. She stared at him and with a shadow over her face ignored him.

Kawanishi asked, “What’s wrong? Semi? Semi, answer me!”

Semi dropped his phone and his chest felt like it was folding in on itself. There was no way Y/N would’ve taken him back and he knew it. And yet, watching him find another man during the time that he was gone. He sat down on the curb, grabbing the phone and putting it to his ear, his voice cracking. “I lost her…”

“What?”

“I lost Y/N...all because I was stupid enough to say something that wasn’t true and now--” He hiccupped, shutting his eyes tightly to try and hold back his own tears. He tried to speak, but a small cry came out of him. He dissolved into hysterical tears right then and there, burying his face in his knees as the pain started arriving in intervals. He stayed on the phone, sobbing his eyes out.

Y/N watched him from afar, tears falling from her own eyes. The man she had been walking with was an old friend and he meant nothing to her. Watching Semi Eita break down in the middle of the street was the last thing she wanted to cause. Even then, she couldn’t go back to him. Not even as she almost reached out for him.

Nothing stayed forever and with the job that he did, it was bound to happen. Y/N was the only thing keeping him from becoming like the other celebrities. Now he was crawling into the dark place and there was nothing stopping him. Y/N had not stayed. It was useless.

I wish I could give you all you deserved, I wish you stayed with me, I wish so many things, none of them come true.

Taglist: @skyguy-peach @jovialnoise @versatilewindow @tsukiibaka @jaegersblogh @kodzuken-pie @kara-grayson04 @attixca @volleybloop @selca11 @osterfield-hollandwriter @seiijixcia @sunareii

#angstember #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #semi eita x reader #semi eita x y/n #semi eita x you #semi eita imagines #semi eita angst #I DONT LIKE THIS #I DONT LIKE THIS AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH #ITS THE WORST ONE I'VE WRITTEN SO FAR #I HATE THIS SO MUCH I STG #I'M NOT LOOKING FOR REASSURANCE I KNOW THIS IS TRASH #my brain is DEAD #i cannot wait until we get to the angst pieces i wanna write #those will be so much better #im sorry semi i did not do you justice

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siriusbunbryist · 5 years ago

Text

In defence of Abed x Annie.

Thanks to the magic of Netflix, I’ve rewatched Community at age 24, and still found Abed and Annie to have hit the heartstrings as much as I did when I was in high school watching the show for the first time.

But watching the series in its entirety just reinforces my thought that Abed and Annie had so much potential that was wasted, and it’s a shame that the writers planted all these seeds to only decide that perhaps this direction was not worth it / too risky / unfavoured by the audience. But I mean, Alison Brie herself (and I’m assuming Danny Pudi as well) endorsed them! Find here and here.

This was a pairing that with all the crumbs scattered throughout the show (I think we are all aware of these crumbs I speak of), could’ve easily played the “oh we’ve been secretly dating this whole time” trope during the last episode and it would’ve still made sense.

Naturally I did some scoping, and of course unsurprisingly the J.eff x Annie pairing takes the cake, while not a lot of love for Abed x Annie. So here are common points of contentions I see surrounding Abed and Annie, and my rationale on them.

Before I start, a note - I fully respect the J.eff x Annie ship and I don’t intend on starting a ship w.ar/debate. I understand where their support comes from! I just needed to vent because no one else in my social circle watches this show. No hate please.

1. Abed doesn’t see Annie romantically

I think on the contrary it’s been set up rather long ago that Abed at the very least is attracted to Annie.

Exhibit A: “What are you making” in Beginner Pottery

Exhibit B: “Flat B.utt and the one Abed wants to nail” in The Art of Discourse

This video basically explains it! The summary: Annie is Pierce’s favourite, Pierce constantly insults Britta, therefore Britta is flat b.utt.

Exhibit C: Not even trying to hide it in Accounting for Lawyers

But, a romantic interest has to be further built upon finding someone attractive right? There has to be intrigue to their character, such as

Exhibit D: “I can only connect to people through... movies” in English as a Second Language

youtube

It is pretty obvious here that Annie is a rare someone who has successfully broken the impartial screen that Abed filters everything through. Jeff saw it too which is why he said Annie was the ark of the covenant before Abed fell for her disney face. I can only imagine Abed to be quite struck with Annie’s infiltration.

A romantic interest should also share common interests, such as

Exhibit E: “Which makes Annie is my third favourite show” in Paranormal Parentage

I’ve said before that for Abed, a guy who lives life and communicates through comparing it with television and movies, it’s not unthinkable for him to be attracted to someone who genuinely watches his favourite shows and commits to roles during cosplay. And who, besides Troy, would fit this profile? Annie.

And finally, the biggest indicator of it all, we also see how Abed views the Jeff and Annie pairing in everyone’s favourite episode Remedial Chaos Theory. Keeping in mind that the timelines are rendered by Abed, out of all the timelines, J.eff and Annie only kis.sed when Abed left the room for pizza. As well, as conjured in Abed’s head, Evil Jeff and Evil Annie only existed as a couple in the Darkest Timeline. To me at least, it’s arguable that this alludes to Abed’s omniscient “director” standpoint that he may be the obstacle in the Jeff and Annie relationship - pointing towards him perhaps harbouring feelings for Annie.

2. Annie doesn’t see Abed romantically The general consensus on this point is that Annie is only attracted to Abed when he’s playing a character. I rather think that being attracted to someone, and being attracted to someone during role play, aren’t mutually exclusive. Let’s take a look at the different characters that Abed played.

Don Draper: serious, sophisticated, and smooth.

Han Solo: immature, flirty and a smarta.ss.

Batman: mysterious, complex, and brave.

Three different personas, yet Annie responded to all of them. Since the common denominator to all three is that they are played by Abed, I would like to offer a counterpoint that perhaps the attraction to Abed has always been there, it’s just emphasized when Abed plays a character. Who knows, role playing might even be Annie’s ki.nk. After all, during For a Few Paintballs More, it is shown that Annie is disappointed when Abed dropped the Han Solo persona after the battle ended.

Annie also loves big romantic gestures. Who’s better than doing that than Abed? Since the beginning, Abed has already been doing big romantic gestures of varying degrees for Annie. With this, it’s not ridiculous for Annie to see Abed as a romantic potential.

Exhibit F: Staying in a room for 26 hours in Social Psychology

Annie: You sat in a room for twenty-six straight hours. Didn’t that bother you? Abed: Yeah I was livid. Annie: Then why didn’t you leave? Abed: Because you asked me to stay and you said we were friends.

Exhibit G: Rescuing her from “captivity” and inviting her to move in in Remedial Chaos Theory and Studies in Modern Movement (even Troy was surprised at Abed’s invitation)

Exhibit H: Tearing down the Dreamatorium in Studies in Modern Movement

Annie: What about the Dreamatorium? Abed: Oh it's staying. The Dreamatorium is more important than any of us. But you're more important than our bedroom so we put the bunk bed in the blanket fort.

Bonus: Confirmed by Alison Brie

3. The show was about Jeff and Annie

Dan Harmon said that Community’s approach is that anything and any pairing is possible. We see this is as the series started with the classic “player vs smart snarky girl” trope with setting up Jeff and Britta as the main pairing. We also see Troy and Annie as the potential B couple in the show. The writers also threw Pierce and Shirley, Annie and Britta, Dean and Jeff, and even Chang and Britta in for a laugh.

And then the show subverted this all by introducing Jeff and Annie, and made Troy and Britta a couple, showing us that Community is a show that intends on breaking these classic sitcom stereotypes by experimenting with different pairings. Abed and Annie was no exception to this, as the writers often pair them up in different shenanigans and hint at possible grounds to explore*.

A few examples: Han and Leia in For a Few Paintballs More, Hector the Well Endowed and the Elf Maiden in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, spy partners in Modern Espionage.

No doubt that the show dabbled in and out of Jeff and Annie throughout the series. However, to say that Jeff and Annie was the primary pairing in the series would mean overlooking Jeff and Britta. Especially when Jeff and Britta have the whole love-hate dynamic, three(?) marriage close-calls, and emotional snippets such as helping Jeff reunite with his father in Cooperative Escapism in Familial Relations.

Anyway, not to discredit Jeff and Annie, but knowing that the show explores the possibility of different pairings**, why write off Abed and Annie?

* Not to mention that the cop pairing in The Science of Illusion was originally written with Abed and Annie in mind! ** We also see a stray Abed and Britta during Horror Fiction in Seven Spooky Steps.

4. Annie is in love with Jeff To keep this short and shipper-goggle free, Annie has said on numerous occasions that she’s in love with the idea of Jeff, not Jeff himself. Specifically this scene in Virtual Systems Analysis:

Abed as Annie: "…We love Jeff…" Annie: "No we don’t, we’re just in love with the idea of being loved. And if we can teach a guy like Jeff to do it, we’ll never be unloved, so we keep running the same scenario over and over hoping for a different result."

And this scene in Conventions of Space and Time:

Annie: All right, I may have been play-acting that we were married, and then the staff thought you were cheating, and I had to save face. Jeff: Do I have to worry about this? Annie: No, I was just daydreaming. I mean, I've married you at least a half a dozen times. And Troy. And Zac Efron.

Not to mention that their conversation in the finale says it all.

Jeff: I don't wanna be fine. I wanna be 25 and heading out into the world. I wanna fall asleep on a beach and be able to walk the next day, or stay up all night on accident. I wanna wear a white t-shirt without looking like I forgot to get dressed.* I want to be terrified of AIDS, I want to have an opinion about those, boring a.ss Marvel movies. And I want those opinions to be of any concern to the people making them. Annie: Well I want to live in the same home for more than a year, order wine without feeling nervous, have a resume full of crazy mistakes instead of crazy lies. I want stories and wisdom, perspective. I wanna have so much behind me I'm not a sl.ave to what's in front of me, especially those flavourless unremarkable Marvel movies.

*Shipper-goggle on: Part of me thinks this is a reference to Abed, whose iconic style almost exclusively comprises T-shirts. What Jeff is saying is that he wishes he is 25 again with his future open before him, someone who compatible with Annie, but here he acknowledges that he isn’t, and lets her go in the end.

5. Abed and Annie wouldn’t work as a couple Another point I see is that Abed and Annie are strictly platonic and are more like brother and sister. On the basis that they have made out a couple times and are attracted to each other, I would disagree with the sibling statement.

Troy, in contrast to Abed, I think actually resembles a more sibling-like relationship with Annie. Although Troy and Annie have the strong friendship of Abed and Annie, when disregarding the high school crush stage of season 1, their storylines never dwelled further down an attraction path, nor was there any specific episode that was dedicated to a deep dive of vulnerabilities and confrontation between them. As a comparison, Troy and Britta had opportunities to explore these setups (Troy admitted to lying about his b.utt stuff story and Troy helped Britta face Blade) - an indication that Troy and Britta were heading into non-platonic territory. Jeff and Britta too, had several opportunities to confront their feelings (up till the very last season), a clear indication of a non-platonic relationship.

For Abed and Annie, what I think pulls their friendship towards actual love interest potential is best pinpointed to Virtual Systems Analysis. Annie’s participation in the Dreamatorium prompted her to not only fully submerge into the way Abed thinks and comprehends his surroundings, but she also got to understand and address Abed’s stubbornness and flaws in a vulnerable way, confronting some of her own flaws as well.

Abed as Shirley: Your hospital school, young lady, is a simulation being run through a filter of other people's needs. Abed's been filtered out because nobody needs him. Annie: I need him!

And to point out this little tidbit in VCR Maintenance and Educational Publishing,

Annie: That's why Abed is like a brother to me. You guys are so alike. Abed: I can't accept that based on one time machine story.

This whole episode, instead of establishing Abed is like Annie’s brother, I would argue is rather doing the opposite. Abed and Annie’s hyper antics in the episode were basically matched by Anthony and Rachel’s blatant indifference and confusion. For lots of Abed and Annie supporters, this episode was a major setback. But I think it instead highlights how in-sync they are with each other, which is a good thing.

Another point, despite Annie trying to prove otherwise, Abed and Anthony had different vibes, and each shared different dynamics with Annie. And as Anthony pointed out in the end, who were Abed and Annie trying to replace in the apartment? Troy. The person who they are trying to fill is Troy - their roommate, their brother, their best friend. Troy was the brother role that neither Abed and Annie can fill for each other.

In Basic Sandwich, we get this exchange:

Abed: The point is, this show, Annie, it isn't just their show. This is our show, and it's not over. And the sooner we find that treasure, the faster the Jeff-Britta pilot falls apart. Annie: Got it. Thank you, Abed. Abed: You're welcome. I have a girlfriend. Annie: What? Abed: You were about to start a kiss lean. Annie: I was not.

Not only did Abed saw right through Annie’s anxiety and comforted her in his own uniquely Abed way, but he also felt the need to remind her of his girlfriend. The fact that he broke the fourth wall here is likely the writers’ way to be meta, but simply acknowledging the tension and bond there says a lot in between the lines. If tension does not exist, there would be no need for this line.

Besides, instead of thinking that they’re strictly platonic (which of course is also okay), they would rather work great as a couple. In terms of opposites attract, Annie grounds Abed with just the right amount, while Abed clearly encourages Annie to be her true self and be immature. Such as this scene in Foosball and Nocturnal Vigilantism,

Annie: I’m following him. Troy: You moving in here was supposed to tone us down!

Annie also doesn’t just tolerate Abed’s idiosyncrasies, she actually likes them and fully participates as multiple paintball games and cosplays would tell us. Special shoutout to the missing lovers footage in Wedding Videography, which through Britta, actually shows us that Annie is the only one who would go along with Abed’s projects - while Britta found the project extremely weird and unhealthy, Annie thought it was fun and commits well to her role.

And while others may tiptoe around Abed, Annie isn’t afraid to call Abed out when he’s out of line and makes a point to teach him about empathy in Virtual Systems Analysis. Remember that Britta tried teaching him this but it didn’t work as well.

I am Abed Nadir... And I don't know a lot of things everyone else knows. I wander the universe with my friend, Troy, doing whatever I want. Sometimes accidentally hurting innocent unremarkables. This week, however, Troy went to lunch and I adapted. I now have the ability to enter the minds of others using an elusive new technique known as "empathy".

As well as in the entire episode of Cooperative Polygraphy.

They also know each other best. Abed knew her cushion preferences, was the one who spelled out her true pas.sion for forensics, and after living together, Annie knew how to navigate Abed’s peculiarities and to soothe him whenever he had a nervous breakdown.

Annie also knows him so well that she can predict his reaction.

They are also each other’s exception. Annie was always the one who manages to pull Abed out of a trance and back to reality, usually with touch.

Abed is also very forgiving with her. An example is when Annie seemingly lost all common sense because she broke Abed’s special edition dvd in Foosball and Nocturnal Vigilantism.

Annie: Well, Batman, on behalf of all of us that aren't perfect, can I just say I'm sorry I broke your DVD? Abed: Apology accepted. But I wouldn't mention it to Abed. That guy's pretty ruthless. And that's coming from Batman.

And in Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas, Annie was the only claymation doll that didn’t have a weird form (except Troy as toy soldier of course). Annie was a ballerina because Abed sees her as a creature of grace. Abed was also the first one who got her “brighter tomorrow” diorama and responded with enthusiasm.

They are also in the same stage in life. As Dan Harmon explains the choice of Abed and Annie being the ones who leave the group, with Troy gone, Abed and Annie symbolize the many possibilities of the future - a possibility that makes them viable. I like to think Annie transfers to the LA FBI office after her internship and they reunite.

And as the Spice Girls said, “if you wanna be my love.r, you gotta get with my friends”. In Paleyfest, Dan Harmon says this about whoever Troy and Abed ends up dating, “I mean a woman that comes into either of their lives is either going to drive them apart or she's going to have to be really accepting of a very special relationship”.

Britta tolerated their friendship but to a point of asking Annie to distract Abed for alone time with Troy, Troy dumped the librarian as she called Abed weird, Robin disappeared, Rachel we never got to see much of, but was pretty quiet and separated from the group. From this, logically speaking, Annie would actually be the perfect match for Abed, as we all know they’re the ultimate trio within the study group and a transition from friends to more will be natural.

Oh, and, Abed is wrong. They’re not Chandler and Phoebe with little storylines together, they’re Chandler and Monica.

Anyway, that’s it for my super long rant/analysis. Community the series is done and over, so there isn’t a need for any ship war. All I want to say is, if #andamovie happens, hopefully, the writers will actually take a leap.

#abed x annie #community #annie x abed #abed nadir #annie edison #sorry if you've seen this already i'm trying to figure out why my tags won't work #mine #thoughts

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onelostgirl · 4 years ago

Text

7. In An Instant

Miya Atsumu x (f) smau

Atsumu wasn’t exactly excited for this fanmeet. He was usually willing to please a crowd, but something changed after Hayami left. She had been an assistant for their previous manager and was someone Atsumu fell hard for. He thought he had it all figured out until the day she vanished from his life.

He was ghosted, his calls ignored, didn’t read or reply to his messages, she had left him all alone quicker than he could ever spike a volleyball.

She was there and then she suddenly wasn’t.

It wasn’t until after their last fanmeet that she showed up looking as horrible as he was feeling.

‘I’m no good without you, but that’s not what it’s like for you is it.’

Her words felt like venom seeping into his body. Had she really fallen for his fake attempt of making things seem okay? She thought this was easy for him.

‘Is that why you left’

He finally managed to choke out as she sharply looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain as he wondered if they were just reflecting his own misery.

‘There’s no way it would work Tsu, you’re you a somebody- I’m a nobody.’

He couldn’t hear anything over the words she had said. She knew what it was like getting into a relationship with someone in the spot light like him. He told her over and over how difficult it would be but he thought they were worth it. All the pain, struggles, secrets, late nights, the waiting-she was worth it all.

‘Yer somebody ta me.’

He thought it would make a difference but her body spoke volumes, her shoulders crunched up tightly as she held onto her hands like she’d crumble in front of him. She was somewhere far from him, a place he could never reach.

‘Wasn’t it enough?’

He asked as silence followed his words.

‘Wasn’t what we felt fer eachother enough to take all that shit.’

He looked up to her and slowly wiped a drop of water from his cheek.

It must have been sprinkling. The rain would fall soon.

‘I need you but you can do fine with or without me-that’s why you need to let me go Tsu. Holding on will only hurt us both.’

She thought he didn’t need her that’s why she had left him.

Atsumu worked his entire life to be where he was, gave up any other possible future as he persued this sport professionally. He couldn’t undo what he put in, he couldn’t turn the clock and just choose not to do this. All his life, he dreamed of standing on that court and millions of others, facing off to players who may or may not beat him, leaving the odds where they were and giving his everything to each match.

This feeling, this passion of his was something he needed to chase after even if he was on his own. Even if his twin had chosen a different path.

This was his and deep down he knew if he just gave it up it would kill him. But a part of him also knew that it was too much to ask her to stay. Knowing that he couldn’t give her what she wanted, understanding that sometimes their relationship wouldn’t be what she deserved.

He hated not being able to go on dates whenever he wanted. Despised that if he was recognized in public holding her hand that her face would be plastered on every social media and news channel across the nation.

It was the price he had to pay for becoming a pro player but it wasn’t something she signed up for.

And at first it was so beautiful and precious but after all the months away and uncertainty Hayami couldn’t handle any of it. The lying tabloids whenever he was in the same breathing space as an aspiring model or actress, all the endorsements that were coupled with said women. All the speculation that he had been secretly dating various celebrities or models.

He couldn’t ask her to go through with it all unless he offered her something permanent. But after the way she left, doubt coursed through him. She didn’t even explain anything, in his eyes he wasn’t worth a single text. She just decided things on her own and left him to wonder if that meant they were on a break or broken up.

‘So this is it then’

He replied with more of a statement than a question. She had made up her mind and there was no changing it.

‘There’s no me in me anymore Tsu, I loved you so much that I became a weaker person. Love shouldn’t be this hard. I can’t stand beside you and be strong.’

A part of him understood where she was coming from but it didn’t make it any better. He knew she grew dependent on him but he didn’t feel bothered by that. She obviously didn’t feel the same.

Was letting her go the only way to help her? He wished he didn’t have to, he’d hold onto her all his life if he could but fact was she didn’t want that.

His love made her weak.

‘Somethin’s I can’t control-be happy Haya, even if it ain’t with me.’

It was the last thing he said before he walked away from her. He turned before she could say anything else, before he broke down in tears, before any more time would be wasted between them.

He left and even when every fiber of his being told him to turn around. He didn’t look back. Not once.

———

Setting up for this fanmeet, might have been too much for him to handle, luckily there was a pint sized person to keep him distracted.

Y/N had been getting on his nerve lately but since his mind was filled with disagreements with her, he didn’t have time to think about Haya. It actually worked in his favor because he would have been one hell of a pain in the ass if he had to deal with all his pent up emotions.

Having her there helped keep his thoughts from wandering, even if all they had been doing the last three hours was arguing about the lighting or how many people were allowed up to the table at once.

Atsumu looked over to y/n, saw her standing and looking over to the table where all the members of the team would be sitting.

“Ya just gonna stand there, Y/N.”

Y/N looked over to the blonde setter taking out something from the box beside him.

“Oh, quiet Miya. I was just thinking if the lighting is good enough for the fans to see everyone from this far.”

She explained as the blonde looked over to her from where he was squatting at.

“Sure sure le’ me do all the work.” He mumbled a part of him wondering how they actually got to talking normally with each other. At the beginning it seemed impossible but somehow now things were different.

“Oh gosh, you’ve done like two boxes of giveaways. I’ve done dozens at home.” She replied as the blonde shot her a nasty look which she actually held back a laugh from.

When Atsumu turned away, he hid the smirk that was about to escape his face. A part of him didn’t want her to know he might have actually been enjoying this.

“You know tomorrow is my first fanmeet with the team. I’ve done it before but somehow I’m excited but very anxious.” Y/N confessed as Atsumu slowly stopped what he was doing to look back to her.

For a moment, he couldn’t turn away from her.

For once it seemed like she let down her walls slightly in front of him and he was very much not expecting or use to this.

“Yer gonna be fine, it’ll be a breez’. Only thin’ ya gotta worry about is if any fans sneak back stage— or if anyone throws unmentio’ables to Omi-kun.”

Atsumu attempted to try to soothe her worries, something he had never done before and he also wasn’t sure why he did.

“Oh yeah only that.”

Y/N responded not so convinced that would be the biggest of her problems during tomorrow’s event. She knew that before Atsumu and her were genuinely civil to each other that he voiced concerns on his social media and a small voice inside her hoped none of the fanatical types showed up.

She shook her head trying to will away any of her uneasiness as the event wasn’t about her. All she had to do was provide all the necessities to make this successful for the team and their fans. She knew they all worked hard and they deserve time to bond with the people who work just as hard to support them.

Her plan was to be invisible so much so that no one would mind her presence but also so she wouldn’t stand out to cause an issue.

“I can hear yer brain goin’ into overdrive. Would ya chill Y/N.”

A red blush appeared across her cheeks, a part of her embarrassed to know he knew she was over anazlying the entire situation.

She hoped that it wouldn’t be noticed by the blonde setter as she silently willed herself to calm down.

“Ya know red might just be ya color.” His words just made her blush harder as she shook her head to try to get herself to stop.

Atsumu found this situation all too amusing as he watched Y/N try to look at everything except him. He didn’t even realize a smirk had appeared on his face.

Y/N glanced over to him and caught the smirk. It had been the first time she actually looked at him and never for that long. She could understand why everyone was attracted to him, there’s no way you couldn’t know he was nice to look at.

His good looks might have been the reason why fans still showed up despite how much of an ass he was whenever he demanded silence during his serves.

He was a rare type of eye candy that many knew needed to be appreciated.

Y/N quickly looked away not wanting to stare longer than she already had.

She knew he was trying to make her feel better and a part of her admired that he actually did. This belief he had, gave her a bit of courage to face whatever might come her way.

“Well there’s nothing I can’t handle. And if you ever feel like you can’t hack it or that you just need a moment to breathe, I got you.”

She stated as Atsumu’s head slowly panned up to her, he was suddenly curious what she looked like.

The first thing he saw was an outstretched hand in front of him.

He gradually brought his gaze up to her face where he met her fiercely intense yet kind eyes.

He knew instantly that even if he had initially though she was like Hayami, he had been wrong.

The woman in front of him didn’t need his strength, instead she was offering him hers.

It might have been the first time Atsumu truly saw Y/N. As he glanced at her hand he realized that he was unfair to judge her so harshly before.

He was so occupied looking at her that he never really saw her. Never even comprehended that she wasn’t Haya, that she was her own person. That even if he made Haya weak, it wouldn’t happen with Y/N because she wasn’t her, she had a strength all her own that he couldn’t take away.

While he thought he would dread this situation, that he would rather be stuck in a room with screaming babies. He realized that spending time with her wasn’t what he thought it was. She wasn’t so bad when he decided not to go out of his way to be an extra asshole.

“Ya sure yer gonna be able to handle all us jack’ls?”

He asked in a playful tone as Y/N looked up at him, a genuine smile on her face.

“Oh please-I’ll take the team, fans, press, and then some.” She stated flipping her hair as if he was being ridiculous to even suggest that.

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Author’s note: Finally, we have some progress! Y/N and Atsumu have actually begun to have a decent convo that led to some mutual respect from both sides. Now, we just have to see how the fanmeet will go and also what does life have in store for Y/N when an old friend suddenly gets added to the mix. Stay tuned for the next update and be ready to brace for whatever twists, turns, drops, and flips that come with this Love Loop. Thank you for all the support and love! Taglist is still open (:

Taglist: @shadyjinyoung @roiana-mustang @z-i-t-t @koukamisblog @90s-belladonna @kimxbae @hamsterfan17 @of-heroes-and-dreams @huliannajace @iloveanime691 @rinnieee @lilacshouko @alyssasteaparty @nhaikyuu

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu social media #haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #onelostgirl love loop #atsumu smau

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