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onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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ivvyela · 5 months ago

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thinking about that theory where peter parker is the mcu's anchor being. and like. the possibilities of it. imagine learning your entire universe's anchor being, the person who pretty much controls the fate of the universe, is some guy who just doesn't exist??? not even dropped off the face of the earth, but there is no proof of this person even existing in the first place???? and maybe strange or the fantastic four or whoever feels responsible for/is tasked with finding and protecting this anchor being but that's kinda hard to do when you have Absolutely Nothing to go off of.

or alternatively, peter himself learning that the entire universe is basically relying on him staying alive, and he already has a lot on his shoulders but this??? having lost everything and everyone and now learning that the weight of the world is literally on his shoulders and fuck!!! he just wanted to be a friendly neighborhood spider-man but that's parker luck for you!!

and like. there's so many ways to take it and i haven't seen anyone considering this and guys. guys. consider it. take it and run with it or what have you. fuck it and throw doctor doom in the mix for the irondad girlies because surely that will be fun.

and i know i know the theory doesn't fully go hand in hand with the mcu cannon but. fuck the cannon. let me scream into the void about this. let me shove it in your faces and hope someone does something with it. let me have my silly where's waldo peter parker anchor being au.

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xcherricutie · 9 months ago

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๋࣭ ⭑⚝ shit sandwich ᯓ★

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

[Shadow the Hedgehog × Reader]

[Word Count - 2k]

[Summary - Forced to become a villain, you think your life is completely over, but a certain hedgehog shows you otherwise]

[Tags: Swearing. Idk if you could tell by the title but there's a lot of swearing. Shadow drops an F NUKE. Reader is written as a female human, but you can read however you like, it's never mentioned. Pretty platonic, mostly just the reader and Shadow bonding over their misery]

[Notes: I'm gonna be honest, Shadow is super OOC in this, I was kinda just having fun. I was listening to Loser, Baby from Hazbin Hotel while looking for oneshot ideas, and this came to me. I haven't written Shadow, or even played any games featuring him aside from SA2 in a while, so he might act a little silly goofy. I also wrote this in one night and it's 2 am so y'know]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had a life once, hopes and dreams that you aspired for. You didn’t ever let life get you down, always looking on the positive side. And you felt like you were actually doing pretty good in life. You had your own home, friends and family. You felt like you were at the top of the world. You didn’t think anything could take you down, turn your world upside down.

And then he appeared. Just plucked you up from the streets as you were walking home one day. Told you no one would miss you, that he was doing you a favor. In one fell swoop, your whole life had been ripped from your grasp, and you lost everything, at the hands of the mad scientist, Doctor Eggman.

He had promised you a better life, said you were the first in a series of experiments to create artificial life. He had stripped away your humanity, turned you into a monster for his own use. He turned you against your own friends and family and forced you to attack your hometown as a “starting point”. You were his very first biotechnical android, trapped by the code he put in you, turning you into just another villain for his archenemy to take down. Your doom had already been sealed the moment he took you that fateful day, and the only thing you could do was watch.

You let out a pained cry as your back hit the wall of a dark alleyway. As you slid to the ground, your bleary vision landed on the silhouette stretching before your feet, the moonlight casting the shadow of your foe. You tilted your head up, ignoring the pain that shot through your back and neck, your eyes immediately drawing to the bright red pools glaring down at you. You knew you were dead the moment you had become an android, but it was just your luck that you were up against the morally grey side of the hedgehog counterparts. Shadow the Hedgehog, once someone who had worked alongside the Doctor, now someone who went around destroying everything related to the Doctor, regardless of innocence. Not that you were innocent anymore, you knew you had to accept your fate, but Shadow didn’t make it any easier.

You didn’t even bother trying to speak on your behalf. You were fully capable of it, you had freedom on that part. The only thing in your life you couldn’t control was the strong urge to destroy everything in your path. You couldn’t resist it; it was in your own coding to destroy without regard. So there was no point in trying to prove your own innocence.

You couldn’t even fight anymore, Shadow had made certain of that. With your eye blackened and swollen, your bones ached and begged for you to stay down. Every twitch of your muscles made them throb, leaving you to lay on the ground, waiting for what you could only hope to be a swift end. But it seemed your luck wouldn’t allow that, as the sound of his approaching footsteps stopped just before you.

You forced your head to lift just enough to see what the holdup was, brows furrowed in confusion as you looked up to see his face. The moonlight shone down through the cloudy sky, his body blocking the light from you, surrounding you in his cold silhouette. But through the darkness, you could see his bright red eyes, and the confusion in them.

“Why?”

You almost didn’t catch his singular word of question. Blinking, you looked up at him with wide eyes, your mind disoriented and foggy. You had even begun to wonder if you had imagined it, until you heard his gruff voice speak up, much more annoyed this time.

“Why are you doing this? You look like just a regular person, you don’t have any business with the Doctor,” Shadow spoke, bending slightly at the hips, staring into your eyes. You could only look up at him in shock, astounded that he would even take the time to ask you such a question. From everything you had heard about Shadow, he wasn’t one to ask questions. He was more the type to act first, ask questions later, or so you had assumed. What was so different now?

“Don’t make me ask again.” Shadow’s eyes squinted, his patience quickly thinning. You swallowed thickly, taking in a quick, shaky breath. You had your opportunity to explain yourself, so why? Why were you hesitating?

You had nothing to return to. Even if you somehow got out of the situation you were in, you had nothing left. Your friends and family were gone, running away from you. Your home was gone, your whole life was gone. This was all you had left, all you were. The villain you had been forced to become had consumed you and became your entire identity.

You didn’t even realize your cheeks were soaked with tears until you choked on a sob, squeezing your eyes shut as you turned your head away in shame. You didn’t have any right to shed tears, you were a horrible person, weren’t you? Even if you were forced, even if you tried to resist, you had still done bad things. You still had to accept your responsibilities and let go of the hope that you could go back to your old life.

Shadow’s eyes widened as he watched you turn away, raising a shaky hand to your face, trying to wipe away your tears. He couldn’t wrap his mind around you, around why you were like this. You showed up without warning some time back, going around city to city just destroying with reckless abandon. Or so that was how it had seemed at the time, but with the way you were breaking down in front of him now, he had his doubts that you enjoyed it or even wanted it.

“You don’t want to, do you?”

Your hands slowed to a stop as you looked up at Shadow, your tears streaming freely now. Hesitantly, you shook your head, unable to open your mouth. You were surprised he had even deduced that much, but then again, Shadow had been defying your expectations since the second you met him.

Shadow sucked in a deep breath as he stood up straight, before looking down at you with what you thought was an almost sympathetic look. Your eyes widened as a hand was suddenly stretched outward to you, your gaze snapping between the hand and Shadow’s eyes. You only took the hand when you noticed Shadow’s growing impatience, his eye twitching with irritation.

“What did he do to you?” Shadow asked, pulling you up and onto your feet, leading you out onto the sidewalk. You rubbed your arm nervously, tempted to just make a run for it, knowing you were stuck like this no matter what. The look Shadow gave you told you it was a bad idea to even think about trying, making you exhale in enervation.

“Turned me into an android,” You muttered, avoiding Shadow’s gaze. You closed your eyes, as if to try and block out the world, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t control it. Sometimes, it’s just an accident. Sometimes, he forcefully directs me towards places he wants gone. I was just a normal person before he took me away from my home. I can’t go back even if I wanted to, he made me destroy everything I cared about.”

You didn’t open your eyes to see his reaction. You didn’t care to see it; you didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. You didn’t want your enemy pitying you, unable to help you. What could he do? Besides destroying you, there was nothing Shadow could do to help you, as far as you were aware.

“Your whole existence seems fuckin’ hopeless,” Shadow muttered, making your eyes snap wide open as you looked down at him, completely dumbfounded. You didn’t think you’d ever heard anything quite as rude as the words that had just come from his mouth. You could feel yourself bristle as your fists clenched, nearly splitting at the seams with anger when Shadow’s voice dragged you from your violence-filled thoughts. “You think your life is wrecked, huh?”

Your eye twitched with anger, rolling your eyes heavily as you slumped down onto the edge of the sidewalk, your muscles aching too much to care about fighting him. Just as you sat down though, you felt Shadow’s presence just behind you, an almost evil smirk pulling at his lips as he bent down to your level.

“Well, let me just say, you’re correct,”

“Wait, what?” You looked back at Shadow with wide eyes, your gaze lifting from his shoes as he backed up, up to the small smirk on his face as you met his stare.

“You’re a loser, a fucked up whiny bitch,” Shadow’s grin grew almost sadistically as he noticed you flare up with anger, your fists clenched as you tried to get up, your tired muscles keeping you down. However, just as you had begun to turn away and ignore him, you heard his voice drop to a mumble. “You’re a loser, just like me.”

Slightly surprised, you tried to shrug it off as you hugged yourself, giving Shadow the middle finger as you faced away from him. “Thanks, asshole.”

Shadow rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips, an odd feeling blooming within him. He didn’t think he’d ever relate to anyone’s situation, let alone sympathize, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

“There was a time I thought no one could relate to me, but letting walls down can sometimes set you straight,” Shadow stood beside you, shooting you a small smile, as if to comfort you. But the glint of sadism hadn’t quite faded as his canines flashed. “We’re all living in the same shit sandwich.”

You looked up at Shadow in shock, before an almost airy feeling washed over you, a giggle escaping your lips. And just like that, you had completely forgotten why you were mad in the first place, returning the smile as Shadow sat beside you.

As the silence filled the air once more, your gaze was turned onto the full moon in the sky, basking in its cool blue hues of light. You sighed deeply, eyes drifting shut as you hung your head down. “I’m trapped and it gets worse with every hour.”

Shadow stared down at your small, miserable form, before his eyes jumped to something in the distance, avoiding you as he spoke. “You’re a loser...”

Shadow watched you bristle in the corner of his eye, making him smile as he continued. “But just maybe, if we eat shit together, things will end up differently.”

And just as soon as he had angered you, Shadow had somehow stunned you into silence, your eyes staring into his. Your silence dragged on for an awkward moment, as if waiting for him to say some new obscenity to anger you, but it never came. You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you smiled.

“You know, you make a pretty shitty friend,” You said, your words making Shadow chuckle softly.

“So I’ve heard. But I mean it,” The smile on Shadow’s face faded as he turned to you, looking you directly in the eye. “I can find you the help you deserve. You shouldn’t have to be forced into a life of servitude for that man, and I’ll make sure you can get back a better life.”

Shadow stood up, holding a hand out to you. But this time, you didn’t hesitate or think about it, placing your hand in his own, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Once again, Shadow had defied your expectations, pleasantly surprising you with his odd offer of something akin to a friendship.

Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be like this in the beginning. You had never intended for your life to go this direction, but maybe it didn’t have to be so bad now. You had finally found the positive side, and had something to look forward to again, alongside your new friend, Shadow the Hedgehog.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic x reader #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader

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1moreff-creator · 3 months ago

Note

Who do you think will survive the killing game??? ( also if you were already asked this my B )

Hi! Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it, so I had to give it some thought :p It’s an interesting question, so let’s see!

As a TL;DR, my “most likely,” in order and assuming a standard killing game formula (obviously the amount of survivors could be way different), are Teruko - J - Whit - Rose - Levi

Spoilers up to CH2 EP15

Of course, there’s one character that’s already kinda locked in as a survivor (assuming a more or less standard fangan ending and not an “everyone dies” sorta situation), and that’s Teruko. While there were theories about a possible protag switch post-LGI release, I’ve never found them particularly believable, and I don’t really think they’re very popular anymore.

The next character that’s basically a survivor already is Min, because if I never accept her death, she will always be alive in my books. /j

Yeah honestly after Teruko my confidence on survivor guesses drops dramatically, since there’s obviously no good way to tell.

Still, one character that particularly stands out to me is J. I have my reasons to believe she might become the primary support character a la Kirigiri, and while that doesn’t guarantee survival, I’d say it ups the chances a bit.

As to why I believe that… well here’s the thing. I’m kinda planning to make a mastermind probability ranking post after CH2 ends, and I’ll talk about my predictions for J in more detail there. As a result, I’d just be repeating myself if I talk about it here. So, I'll give you the quick rundown and leave the more detailed explanation for that post.

Basically, I believe the core theme of DRDT is the concept of “fate” and the possibility of change, where the big climax for Teruko’s character arc in particular (the single most important arc for the narrative, protag privilege) will be rejecting the notion that she’s fated to have bad luck forever. She already talked about it with Xander before he stabbed her, and her primary character foil, David, “covered” Literature Girl Insane. You don’t exactly give that song to a character who is very hopeful for a better future. Even Teruko’s trust issues are born from the belief her bad luck makes betrayal inevitable. And with Ace talking about how he’s “a coward who couldn’t fight his fate” (paraphrased), the connection seems more solid than ever.

J is important in that context because her entire character is sorta designed around the concept of rejecting fate, the thing Teruko needs to “learn to do” as it were. J was born into stardom and fame, born “lucky” (LGI numeral number seven symbolism go brr), but hides it and rejects her birthright down to her secret quote, “Please don’t call me your daughter ever again.” If Charles and Eden are the ones who are trying to get Teruko to trust again, I see J as the one who has the best shot at convincing her that she’s not doomed by the universe itself, giving her the best shot at survival out of any non-protag imo.

Also, silly yet existent argument: the CH1 title screen had Teruko (and Xander), the CH2 had J. Is it possible the survivors will each be featured in one screen? Probably not, but still.

The next one’s Whit. DRDT seems committed to explore its characters as much as possible before they die (which I think we all agree is awesome), and that means those that haven’t been fully explored or developed yet have a higher chance of a late run, thus a higher chance of survival. This applies to J and Rose somewhat, but it applies to Whit especially. I sometimes feel that we know more about Mai Akasaki than we do about Whit, which should tell you something.

Contrast that to Charles, who is absolutely dying sometime soon (imo). Even ignoring the “Charles dead at three” Whit comment from the prologue, Charles’ character arc is a little too complete for me to think it’s likely he stays ‘till the end. After we close out the Elliot subplot (which could easily be in CH3 given Elliot’s MV is already out), killing Charles off would be a good way to really kickstart Whit’s inevitable Breakdown Arc.

Final points to consider about Whit are the fact that luck is mentioned in his character bio, which along with J’s LGI numeral VII and Teruko being Teruko gives him an extra connection to the two survivors I’ve pointed out; and the possibility of him being the mastermind. Again something for the MM post, but put briefly; he’s not a bad mastermind guess, but I think it’s very likely that if he is, he won’t survive, so there’s that.

The next one might be Rose? Recap foil with J, so if the dev wants to explore that to its fullest, Rose will probably make a late run at least. There’s a lot to explore with her character too, but frankly that’s a bit of a moot point; every character in DRDT has a lot to explore.

Even if she’s one of, if not the best pick for mastermind imo, it’s very possible she can be the type of MM to be redeemed and survive alongside the cast. Again, details will probably have to wait for the mastermind post :v Hate to be saying that so much, but understandably given some of the reasoning is similar, a lot of good MM guesses are good survivor guesses.

As for the fifth most likely… well, this is the reason this post took me a week (this and I was busy :v). See, if you’d asked me during the hiatus, I would have said Ace. Obviously, that wouldn’t have aged very well now would it?

The ask was sent a bit after Ep14, and by the time I got some free time to write this, it was already Wednesday and anything I said about Ace or Eden could have very realistically been proven wrong in just a few days, so I decided to hold off until culprit reveal. And now that Ace is looking like the blackened, I’m pretty glad I did.

This does bring up a curious issue of gender balance. In theory, there’s nothing stopping DRDT’s survivor cast from leaning one way or the other, but generally survivor casts do try to keep it as equal as possible. And with three women already listed, even putting Nico here would cause an imbalance. But the thing is… I don’t see almost any of the men surviving?

Hence, Levi. I frankly have no clue where his character is going with the recent reveals and the fact Ace is dying soon; I could just as easily see him as the second CH3 victim (if there are two) or fulfilling “buff character curse” by dying in 4. But… not knowing where someone’s arc is going is kinda the reason Whit is up there, so I’m using the same reasoning. It’s my least confident guess, so yeah. He’d certainly be an interesting survivor at least, I wonder how he’d play off the mastermind in trial 6.

To quickly cover the other characters, I’ll go in order of least likely to survive to most likely. Excusing the dead, of course.

-Ace: He’s technically still alive, but, uh… uh…

-David: If he were to survive, he’d need to go on a near identical arc to Teruko, which is… hard to imagine properly working. He’ll make a late run, probably, but I can’t see him reaching the sixth.

-Charles: Already explained.

-Arturo might be a little too insane to work. It’s hard to imagine a sixth trial with Arturo of all damn people around. Especially if J’s there.

And… those are kinda all the guesses I have for who is (in my belief) 100% dying. I could actually see every other character being a survivor :v

-Veronika runs into the same issue as Arturo; it’d be hard to let the mastermind do MM stuff when this girl’s there simping for them. However, I could see a world where dev keeps her for the psychoanalysis of the MM… kinda. Frankly, she should be in the “no chance” list, but… she’s my favorite alongside Min so let me have hope!-

-Nico has the advantage that they’re the only way to make a cast of 5 survivors perfectly balanced in terms of boys and girls; two of each and Nico. But that’s not very strong. The main issue is that I don’t really know what could happen with them in the remaining chapters that would advance their character to a point they’re a survivor, if that makes sense. Maybe if Rose makes it?

-Hu is weird. From what we’ve seen in the series, she would make a pretty compelling survivor. But… her secret quote…

Hu: I want to pay for what I’ve done. But even then, I still want to live.

Like, that’s the most “blackened” line in history; do you wanna state your victim’s name while you’re at it? Part of me wants to say that’s too obvious and the line will have a different context, but… it’s a secret quote in the source code of her character page. It’s not that obvious to anyone who follows the series more casually.

-Eden: I could see the argument of Eden>Rose (and therefore Eden>Levi as he’s only there due to gender balancing), since our favorite Clockmaker is quite easy to imagine in a final trial setting. The main issue is that… assuming a more or less standard formula, it’d be sorta weird to have someone in the sixth trial who can out-hope speech the protag, and Eden definitely fits that bill. It’s possible she makes it, especially given her involvement in the pre-prologue scene with Xander’s eye, but idk.

Here are a few extra survivor configurations I could see happening! Obviously there’s plenty more, so watch absolutely none of them be right.

Teruko-J-Whit-Eden-Levi/Nico (Teruko MM or dead MM with no “two victims” case)

Teruko-J-Rose/Eden-Levi/Nico (Whit MM)

Teruko-Whit-Rose-Nico (J MM)

Teruko-J-Whit-Hu (Veronika MM)

Teruko-Whit-J-Rose/Eden-Levi-Min?!?! (Min MM)

Teruko-Rose-Eden-Whit-Levi/Nico-Min (Baking Squad Cope!!!)

Teruko-J-Whit-Veronika-Levi/Nico (Why not?)

Everyone (The only right answer)

Thanks a lot for the ask! Fun to ramble about this series lol.

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #drdt spoilers #drdt theory #ask #j rosales #rose lacroix #whit young #teruko tawaki #levi fontana #i’ll just tag the ones i’m calling most likely to be survivors

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alltimefail · 4 months ago

Text

This song, "For Forever" was on George's Edwin playlist (he said so in a Cameo) and holy fuck it's perfect for Edwin and Charles.

Knowing the current fate of our beloved show it stings a little extra hard to talk about, but not in a bad way and I want to talk about why that is. Warning that I'm going to wax poetic here, maybe definitely cry a little along the way, but please stick with me. 🖤

These boys have a bond that is special; it defies hell, rejects heaven, scoffs at the classic tragedies with a molotov cocktail in hand, rewrites the expected "bury your gays" trope (surprise, the gays came back as ghosts!), and says fuck a soulmate - I willed this, I chose this, I chose you, fate may have brought us together but I stayed with you and I'd do it again. No one can change that they are together for forever, two friends having a perfect day every day because the other one is there. They'll always have each other in every universe, they'll be together until the end of time and not even death herself can (or would) split them up. For Charles and Edwin it's just sky for forever, inside jokes, silly dance sessions, late night games of cluedo, reminiscing and confiding, puzzling cases, paperwork, infinite backpacks to organize, spells to master, books to read aloud (Edwin doing the reading of course while Charles enjoys), and long walks to wherever, whenever, because they've got nothing but time.

These two silly ghost boys will have the promise of endless possibility, content with the life they've made in their death, just letting the world pass them by for forever and it's everything, better than a life either of them could have ever imagined. Charles and Edwin have known so much tragedy and injustice in their respective lifetimes, they know loss intimately and are constatly fighting tooth and nail against the many forces that try to separate them along the way, but they still choose to do good, to help others, and they are happy because the reward is enough: the ability to bask in the light they've found in eachother is more than enough. Regardless of how you interpret that love, it is truly eternal and pure... so much so that it honestly makes some of the greatest love stories and epics pale in comparison.

All that to say, every time we talk about these two and tell their stories (through another television adaptation, through rewatching season 1 and analyzing every little detail, through fanart, through the comics, through their appearance in doom patrol, and so on) we only add to that cosmic universe that they'll exist in forever. Their story doesn't end with the Netflix adaptation, just like it didn't really start there either.

"You say 'There's nowhere else I'd rather be, and I say me too... we just talk and take in the view."

That line ⬆️ is the essence of the boys whole dynamic, and you know what? That is really fucking beautiful. The whole drive in this song - its steady, epic build and sensational crescendos that convey excitement, awe, a little bit of uncertainty, and an abundance of unbriddled emotion - is exactly how Charles and Edwin's dynamic feels and it's a goddamn treasure, a fucking whirlwind, a blessing to witness. Frankly the love they share is worth celebrating, it's worth honoring and creating for because it's breathtaking, pure joy, warmth, and unyielding devotion. It's a one of a kind story with two boys who will always come to each other's rescue, who will do everything in their power to make sure the other is okay, who will accept each other and pick each other up every time and love each other enough in death to make up for all the people who dared to not see the brilliant light they shined in life.

Netflix may not want to tell their story any more, but we can. We can keep making art, writing fics, supporting Jayden and George who brought our boys to life - and Kassius and Yuyu who gave us their sensational living counterparts as well. I know I love these dead boys and their alive girl companions and that their story will always mean the world to me. I love their love, the found family they've created, and all the residual joy and inspiration it causes; but most of all I love that they've brought us all together in our own little found family. No one can take that from us, nor can they take that from the writers, cast, and crew who put everything into starting this legacy.

So let's do what we do best and get back to our work...for forever, yeah? Maybe another streaming service saves our show (and that would he fucking mint, aces, BRILLS!!!!) but at the end of the day, fandom can immortalize this story.

There's still cases to solve, rights to wrong, jobs to job! No reason to stop just because Netflix mucked this up royally. 🔎💀

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fairykazu · 1 year ago

Text

letters to her ft. kazuha

cws: established relationship, f! reader (referred as lady, princess, etc), third person, making up lore to fit the story, princess bride ref

masterlist

kazuha stood tall amidst the warmer breeze that inazuma had to shoulder for the spring, every cherry blossom tree was in bloom, the pink petals falling to the ground. he pocketed one petal for her as his long, white hair dancing like ribbons of silk in the gentle winds. red eyes scanning the horizon as he was searching for a glimpse of the one who held his heart captive.

just before leaving to inazuma last night, he had written her another letter, his heart pouring out onto the parchment paper as if it was the lighting storm that showers over the islands, blessed by the electro archon herself. he wrote carefully as the ink stained his fingers; words blurred together as his vision began to blur with tears. unspoken words he'd never said out loud.

as he was traveling by boat to the city, the memory of their first meeting came flooding back, he remembered it as if it was yesterday. he was left, stranded, in the harsh wilderness of the islands, abandoned to care for himself.

thankfully, a woman had taken him in out of pity. although kazuha wasn't the type to believe in the archons like he used to, he thanked them above for blessing his eyes with her. her beautiful, sparkling eyes and her dimples when she smiled. she was truly someone who was as beautiful as the ocean waves when they crash on the shore. he had fallen to her charms quicker than the first snowflake that danced in the winter.

he remembered how kind she was as she poured him some jasmine tea. her delicate hands made him feel safe. even then, in his heart, he had known that she was the one. the one who would make all his pain and suffering worth it.

once he arrived on the dock of the city, it had been a long time since he saw her. years had passed since, but their love for each other had only grown stronger. they exchanged countless letters, sharing their deepest desires and fears. promises were made, vowing to be together soon. kazuha took out a letter from his pocket, unfolding it. clutching it close to his chest, the scent of her perfume lingered on the paper, taunting him with the memory of her.

closing his eyes, he allowed himself to be consumed by the moments of their time together, reliving each memory as if it were happening all at once.

he chuckled silently to himself as he remembered the way she would laugh, how her eyes would sparkle when she smiled, nights they spent together, whispering secrets and sharing dreams beneath the starlit sky.

like how the archon mythology had said when people were originally had four arms, four legs and two heads, but when the archons had a war, it eventually split the people into beings with two arms, two legs and one head, doomed or blessed them with their other half wandering the world.

maybe, she was his other half, and he was fated to be hers forevermore.

his heart started to race once he arrived at her estate, hoping that he would be embraced by her arms once again. pink blossoms waltzed in the wind around him, the scent of love in the air. the grand mansion loomed before him, its towers reaching towards the celestials.

the door was guarded with two knights, clad in their bright armor, holding onto their polearms as if their life depended on it. he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. one of them asked the ivory haired samurari,

"state your business."

"i am here to see the lady." kazuha replied, staying calm despite the broody knights staring daggers into his soul. he smiled politely as one of them raised a brow,

"the lady? don't be silly, young man. everyone in the world wants to see the lady. please show me how you know her."

kazuha didn't expect the security to increase when he was gone. he handed the letter he recieved from you recently to the broody knight number one.

broody knight number one laughed in kazuha's face, the saliva sticking to his face. he grabbed a tissue, wiping his face. "young man, don't make me laugh!” loud, booming fits of laughter came from both knights. “this is no way the lady's handwriting." he squinted, passing it to the second broody knight.

"i agree. this must be a bootleg version. nice try, kid." kazuha tried to take back the letter but the knight only had ripped it up in front of him, his eyes grew to saucers, watching the parchment become one with the pink flowers. as kazuha was about to unsheathe his sword, a little man, dressed in all black, presumably the butler, creaked open the doors. he waddled to one of the knights, whispering something.

as the laughter took a full stop, a moment of silence increased the tension. the knights' facade of being proud dropped completely, laughing nervously. "my apologies, sir kaedehara, we weren't aware of your business with the lady."

he retorted back, "you would've if you read the contents of the letter." the knight opened the door wide open, making the brass knockers clink against the wooden door.

as the doors were still open, kazuha sauntered his way into the mansion; it revealed a grand hall adorned with tapestries and different styled paintings of your family. kazuha could feel the weight of the knights' daggered gaze upon his head again, he chuckled nervously, forgetting that he made a remark towards their intergity.

most definitely, deserved though.

he made his way towards the staircase that led to the upper levels of her estate.

as he ascended up on the marble stairs, the tension in the air grew more cruel, colder. it was as if the whole world was holding their breath, waiting for him to arrive; it made him realize that he was holding his breath too.

he made himself relax as he paused for a moment on the top of the stairs, taking in the surroundings around him. from the lavish furnishings to countless, new portraits framed in gold, each single one served as a painful reminder of his time apart from you.

he was familiar with the hallways, turning a left, reaching her chamber. his heart was pounding in his chest, taking a deep breath just before he steadied himself. he knocked on the door, "my lady, are you there?"

a moment of silence came before a click of the latch replied to kazuha's question. the door swung open, revealing his lady in front of him. she was more beautiful than he ever remembered, even if he attempted to remember her appearance, engraved in his mind. it couldn't compare to reality

. her eyes lit up like sparkles in the night sky, "hello, my knight, how are you? how was your journey?" she said with grace, upholding the reputation she has across many towns. her voice was soft and sweet just like how he remembered.

taking her delicate hands into his calloused ones, he kissed her knuckles, "it was beautiful despite the harshness of the weather." your face shifted uncomfortably. "don't worry, princess, i wasn't hurt badly. in fact," from his bag, he grabbed a single rainbow rose he saved just for her. "i have this flower for you. it reminded me of you."

she smiled, her teeth shining brightly, "thank you, my knight. care to come in?"

kazuha nodded. the door behind him shut closed. she took a deep breath, taking a step forward, her facade as a perfect lady crumbled before him. her hand trembled, reaching out to his cheek, "kazuha," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "you've come back to me." tears began to form, creating little pearls at her eyes.

"i promised that i would." kazuha replied, gently comforting her as she pulled him into a tight embrace, clinging to him as if she might never let go. he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her familiar scent.

it was the scent of home, of love, of everything that had maintained him during the years they had been apart. kazuha departed from her embrace. he lit the fireplace as it crackled and cackled. he returned to the nook of the bedroom. he carried her to the loveseat, sitting next to her. she gazed into her lover's eyes,

she sniffled, "kazuha, i adore you. although sometimes i wonder if i'd be enough for you?" her snot running down her nose, he quickly retrieved a tissue, wiping the snot from her face.

"you know, i'll always come back to you, princess," he said softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "no matter where I go or what I do, you'll always be the star that guides me home."

she smiled through her tears; her face began to light up. "and you, kazuha, my love, you're the only one who can make this place feel like home." she leaned into him, her body warm and familiar against his. "stay with me, won't you?"

he returned her smile, sweetly, wiping a single tear off her face, "of course, my lady, i wouldn't want to be anywhere else but with you." he pressed a kiss to her head, humming a tune.

she nodded, sniffling, wiping her nose with the tissue kazuha gave her. "thank you, my knight." she rested her head against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. "i've missed your stories about your adventures; do tell me, what have you been up to since you left?"

"as you wish, my lady."

#i realized i dont write a lot of fics for him #IM SO SORRY KAZUHA #astronetwrk #kazuha x reader #kazuha kadehara #kazuha kaedehara x reader #kazuha genshin #genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha kaedehara

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acerathia · 2 years ago

Text

The Apple of my Eye || I. Midoriya

Summary:

While spending the summer at your grandparent's place, an accident leads to a fateful encounter with Izuku. Yet you reject this first meeting, seeking to craft a proper first impression.

Pairing:

Midoriya Izuku / Reader

Wordcount: 11.3k

Read it on AO3

Tags/CW:

Love at first sight, slightly idiots in love (if you squint), Aged-up characters, vague description of a panic attack, slight miscommunication (I hate it as much as you do), Reader is gn but there is 'girl' as a term of endearment,

Note:

This work is part of the 'Meet Fruit Collab' by willow's house! Go check the other works!!

The sun caresses your cheeks and makes you close your eyes, allowing the warmth to seep into your bones. There is only a slight breeze, cooling your skin with each whisper. The weather seemingly fits your current tranquility.

It’s summer. And similar to every summer you had experienced before, you’re visiting your grandparents at their small cottage in the south of the country. The warmth practically radiating from the edges of the village. You love it here, despite the long trip, carrying you over borders and through mountains. But in the end, it’s always worth it, the weather and the comfort of the people forming the valley of your dreams. No wonder you had planned on staying for the duration of the summer, nothing better than to spend your vacation with your family and their well-loved apple trees.

You had arrived a couple of days ago, the train finally coming to a halt after hours of driving through the darkness of the tunnel, emerging into another world, wildly different from the other side of the mountain range. And as much as you love riding the train for long distances, it had exhausted you quite a bit, you almost had no choice but to rest for a couple of days. These last days had consisted of you catching up with your grandparents, and of course, enjoying the apple pie of your dear grandpa.

That is until they had kicked you out of the door with some silly task. Well, getting kicked out is a strong word, rather they had sent you on an errand because according to your grandma, you had gotten ‘the zoomies’, whatever that means.

So there you are, in the middle of a meadow, trying to walk towards the apple trees of your family without stomping on the flowers. And as much as you hate to admit it, you aren’t successful with your current endeavor, and you hope to at least save the apples from their dooming demise. That’s why you had to pick them directly from the trees, these delicious, fresh apples should not, under any circumstance, fall onto the ground and rot away, turning into sad mush. You shall not allow them to suffer such fate!

But even if you are to pick every single apple from the trees, you wonder where your grandparents store all these apples, before you remember the morning market. The people around here open their stalls in the morning to sell their homemade products and to converse with each other, taking that chance to simply catch up with each other without any reason to do so. And of course, your grandparents go there, they have many friends in the village and how else are they supposed to get their gossip from? And soon you are going to be part of that gossip because while you had missed the market due to your inability to wake up early in the morning, they definitely are going to drag you along with them as soon as possible.

With a sigh, signifying your surrender to your upcoming fate, you arrive at the base of the first tree. You are only supposed to fill the basket you are carrying, so there is no need for you to visit more than one tree today. You set the basket between the roots of the tree to put your hands on your hips. With a scrutinizing gaze, you inspect the stem and its bark, judging how well you would be able to climb it. And it seems like a challenge for your climbing skills, but it definitely isn’t something you can’t handle.

Rolling your imaginary sleeves up to gather some strength, you begin feeling the bark with both your palms and fingertips, looking for grooves and furrows to hold onto. Once you discover some proper places to hold onto, you manage to get a good grasp around the trunk, hauling yourself with one push and jump. Your feet push the ground away before they step onto the bark. Holding your grasp for a moment, your hand grabs the next branch to finally pull your whole body upwards, your body sprawling across the branch. With a swing you manage to get your legs up, getting yourself into a sitting position on the thicker branch. And despite its thickness, you remain close to the trunk as a safety measure.

With your body secure and safe, you start grabbing the apples, picking the ones closest to you to let them fall to the ground. You try your best to soften the fall by stretching your body towards the ground, or by trying to get them into your basket in one shot. That way you clear the surrounding space, before you begin to move upwards, standing on the branch to reach higher. Methodically you move from branch to branch, reaching as far as you possibly could without endangering yourself.

Reaching higher and higher, you continue to let the apples drop, until you hear a small shout of surprise. You gasp silently and peer down to look for the source of that sound, staying hidden behind the leaves and branches.

Down below standing at the base of the tree is a boy your age, his hand rubbing against the top of his head with a slight wince. You bite your bottom lip to swallow a curse, lest he sees you between the branches of the tree. Because it seems like you were the cause of his pain, as you accidentally let an apple fall on top of his head. And you probably should get down and apologize, maybe gift him some apples to soothe the pain. But before you decide on your next move, he looks up and you freeze. You can’t do anything but stare at his beautiful face; and you think, you must have fallen and broken your neck because you have never seen such mesmerizing features before. His green eyes make you step into a deep, refreshing forest, full of secrets you can discover if you step closer; yet welcoming and beautiful, soothing your mind with ease. Strands of hair framed those gleaming eyes, soft; and you wondered how it would feel to drive your fingers through them while counting the small galaxy of freckles emphasizing his features. You wonder how many little stars he owns.

There is no way you can simply jump down and meet him like that, not after that accident with the apple. That would be a bad first impression and you have no idea how you currently look, the leaves probably sitting on top of your head. The peak of bad impressions. ‘Hey, I hit you with an apple, but you’re cute, so forget about it.’ You can’t just do that! For some reason you need that first impression to be good, no, perfect. So you clasp your free hand against your mouth and hold still, trying to make the least amount of noise possible. He should not catch you under any circumstance, especially after you refuse to go down after hitting him. That only would worsen his possible first impression of you.

‘Please leave, please leave,’ you try to persuade him with your telepathic skills. You hope you have these skills, or else he might not leave soon. But lucky you, your persuasion skills seem to work, as he picks an apple off the ground to roll it between his palms, scarred palms. And you wonder how that rough skin would feel against your own pair of hands before you notice him turning and finally leaving.

You almost cheer, thanking your merciful luck, hoping it doesn’t deplete with that simple graciousness. Still, you don’t risk anything and wait for some time, making sure nobody is truly left, before you jump down, starting to pick the apples off the ground in a hurry, collecting the fruits in your basket.

With a last glance in every possible direction, you make your way back to the cottage, arms and doubts heavy. And as much as you want to enjoy the beautiful sun on your skin, your gaze has locked itself onto the grassy ground, watching the blades dance with the silent brise. You just can’t help but think that you might have burst your only chance with that boy, just because of your cowardice. What if you never saw him again? Then what? Are you just going to lament over that non-existent loss, maybe cry every time you spot some green apples, because he reminds you of these green Pound Sweet apples? Probably. But right now all you want to do is to kick yourself back in time, maybe take another way of action. But no, your head had been empty and your thoughts didn’t carry any semblance of common sense. You never make the right decisions in the nick of time, and you always end up regretting it, like right now. You lost him, forever!

Maybe you are acting a tad dramatic, but you think you deserve a little drama, as a treat to distract yourself from your lost chance to meet the embodiment of the perfect person.

Your grandma immediately notices your little pout upon your entrance, and just doesn’t allow you to enter the cottage. She had taken the basket out of your hands before pulling you into her little vegetable garden in the back. Apparently, she needs help with getting rid of the weed. And even if you know she doesn’t need help and that she holds too much strength in her frame, you oblige to her pushing you into this task. You doubt you would be able to get rid of a single weed, and you spend the rest of the day in a brawl, fighting those scratching plants with all your might and still losing, too many times to count. And maybe that is the plan of your grandma, to distract you from whatever is bothering you and to tire you out like a little child throwing a tantrum. You don’t care though, that is her way of caring for you after all.

***

The next morning doesn’t start like you wanted it to. You are deep in your dreams and your pillows, hugging your blanket close to your face when a spray of water hits your face with its startling coldness. A groan escapes you and you try to swat at the source of your bother but without any success. The attacks continue without mercy, soaking even your pillow. Hesitantly you open your eyes, hoping to avoid getting sprayed into them, before seeing a familiar figure standing beside your bed.

“Wake up, you lazy thing, we’re going to the market!” your grandma proclaims, waving the spray bottle in front of your face as a threat.

You grunt some curse words under your breath, making an effort in sitting up. “Okay, okay… Man, a warning would be nice…”

The only response to your mumbled complaint is another spray into your face before she leaves you to change into some proper outerwear. And you are almost inclined to leave the house in your pajamas if only to embarrass her a bit. But if you are honest with yourself, you will end up regretting that choice more than her non-existent embarrassment will be worth it. You will wind up being the embarrassed one, she will be nonchalant about the whole thing, shrugging your audacity off like nothing. So you almost have no choice but to change into some proper summer wear, yearning for your hoodies, but you would rather not fry in this weather, as beautiful as it is.

Dragging your feet, sleep still hanging onto your ankles, you join your grandparents in the kitchen. They are preparing for the morning market, and they expect your help if the basket squeezed into your hands is any indication. It is filled to the brim with green apples, Beauty of Bath, the ones you had picked from the tree just yesterday. You sneak a hand into the basket to grab one for yourself, but your grandma seems to have a telepathy or a sense of premonition because she’s already slapping your hand away, tutting at your allegedly bad behavior.

“Aw, c’mon, I didn’t get to eat anything yet…”, you grumble, still eyeing the green, fresh apples hanging off the crook of your arm.

“Stop makin’ eyes at them apples girl, shoulda woken up earlier,” she reprimands you, and you feel like you're being punished for something. Is she mad about how much of a loser you are in weeding out the garden? Did you step on a tomato while brawling those stubborn plants? Is she getting sick of you being a failure in her favorite hobby?

And maybe you’re being dramatic again, making a big deal out of her response, when you’re well aware of her ways of communication.

Still, this knowledge doesn’t stop you from pouting slightly, reacting appropriately. But you can’t help but light up when your grandpa goes up to you and hands you a piece of the pie. With a broad smile and a thank you, you ravish that piece, enjoying the way the apples and cream melt on your tongue, leaving a sour and sweet taste behind. Licking the rest off your fingertips, you both giggle about that secret exchange, while your grandma has her back turned on you.

Despite her obliviousness, she must have noticed something going on, as she begins to push the both of you out of the door, arms heavy with product, apples, pies and tarts. With your packed load, you begin to walk down the path to the village. Luckily, the cottage is stationed on a hill, so you only have to walk down with all that stuff, rather than dying from the slope. And despite the village sitting at the base of the hill, the distance between the cottage and the center is quite short. There is no need for any of you to use the car at all, even if carrying everything slowly turns out to be exhausting.

By the time you finally arrive at the closed stall, you’re barely feeling your arms anymore, the basket cutting your blood circulation off. With a grateful sigh, you manage to put everything down safely, before shaking your arms to get them back to work, wincing at the pins and needles appearing in your veins. Once you think you can use them again, you start helping your grandparents with opening up the stall and sorting the products into their respective spaces, checking if everything has survived the travels.

Everything is at its proper place the moment people start wandering into the market, the noise level immediately rising. The growing crowd carries their conversation with itself, the words traveling from stall to stall with people catching up with each other. The bargaining accompanies the chattering, the people trying to get their grocery shopping as cheap as possible.

Even you can’t escape the talking. You’re acquainted with some of your grandparents’ friends, so you have no choice but to greet them, which ends in you trying to dodge every question coming your way. Their questions and calculating gazes dig quite deep and if you don’t know any better, they seem like they’re analyzing your body language for any possible reaction. But that’s not possible, right? They’re just retired folk, they surely aren’t putting that much effort into their gossip, right?

You even start busying yourself with stocking the stall up, making sure there is always enough stuff from everything on the table, just to escape the awkwardness of the digging elderly.

“Oh, these look delicious, what kind of apples are these?” a voice asks you while you’re straightening the rows of green apples.

Oh, this is a rather easy question, so you grin and look up to answer, only to meet green eyes, soft curls framing them with the slight breeze and a shining smile. Your brain short-circuits and you can’t help but be mesmerized by him, the name you had given him in your head slipping out: “Uh, Pound Sweet?”

Immediately your grandma's elbow digs itself deep between your ribs, the pain pulling you back into reality. “What are ya blabbing? Those are-”

“Beauty of Bath apples, I know… Excuse my mistake…” you apologize to the boy in front of you, bowing to avoid making eye contact with him and falling into that trance again.

You can see how he hurriedly waves his free hand around. “Uh! No-No need to bow, everything is fine”, he insists and lets his hand rub the back of his neck, still giving you that brilliant smile.

And even after you straighten up, you actively avoid making eye contact with him. You’re sure you won’t escape those beautiful eyes of his if you get caught in them again. Instead, you let your eyes roam over his galaxy of freckles dusting his soft-looking cheeks, which mold with his bright smile; over his swaying, green curls moving around his ears, brushing the edges of his eyes, getting stuck in his long lashes.

Even his face sends you into a stupor and you don’t notice your staring until your grandma has rammed into you once again. Embarrassed, you let your hands wander over the apples, rambling about this sort of apples and their acidic sweet taste, while picking the number of apples he desires, You try to put your whole focus on the packaging of the apples and the piece of pie you decide to sneak into his order, catching your wandering gaze before you can even begin to stare again. Still, how are you supposed to prepare for the scars on his hands or the accidental touch of his rough hands as you handed him his package. The slight brush of his fingers against yours as he received his order sends you into another turmoil of thoughts and you hastily pull your hand away.

“Thankyoubye,” you blurt hurriedly, feeling embarrassed at your reactions to every single thing about him. For some reason everything about him makes you run on a higher sensitivity level leading to you slightly overreacting, probably.

Still, you feel bad for letting him experience these reactions at such a close range, so you look up and give him a crooked smile, a shy one, mirroring your current feelings. You feel the need to hide under his gaze and you scratch your nose to hide your face a tiny bit.

In return, you receive a bright smile with a thank you. You physically feel your heart stop, before you start choking on your own spit from the shock, resulting in a coughing fit. A curse tumbles with a cough and you have to turn away, propping yourself on your knees.

Well, there goes your good first impression, well done, you had ruined it, and this time you can’t just hide or run away. You can’t do anything but cough your lungs out, your throat getting raw; and if the tears in your eyes are due to your disappointment and shame, and not because your body is trying to eject your esophagus, nobody but you has to know.

After hacking a couple more times, your body finally allows you to catch your breath, as you hold yourself steady with a hand on the edge of the table. Your swipe at the beads of tears in the corners of your eyes, faintly feeling a hand between your shoulder blades. At first, you think it’s your grandpa, but the size of the palm feels too big to be actually his. And while the realization slowly creeps into your mind, the touch sears itself onto your skin, every skin ridge etching itself into your bones.

You swallow, trying to avoid the repeat of earlier, before finally raising your gaze and seeing Pound Sweet right in front of you. His brows are furrowed in some kind of worry, and you wonder why he would worry about you in the first place. You, nothing more than a stranger, as much as you want to change that.

Your eyes meet his, green and flashing, holding all these secrets, filled with a whirlwind of emotion you cannot decipher. You don’t register his question until after he repeats himself.

“Is everything okay?” he asks with a professional tone, and how can someone ask such a question in a professional tone anyway? Is he some sort of EMT and is used to people choking on their own spit, embarrassing themselves in front of him?

With a blink of your eyes, you realize he’s waiting for any kind of response, so you nod slowly.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. ‘Twas weird…” you murmur, as if your nod needs some boost in its credibility, lowering your gaze to avoid looking at him as mortification slowly fills your veins, hot and teary, crawling and ripping at your insides.

Instead of replying he just put a cup filled with juice, the smell of berries emanating from its edges. You recognize the barely touched juice from another stall close by, a couple of people had been holding the same kind of cup in their hands, savoring the taste with each sip. And with a small thanks, you decide to do the same thing, letting the sip on your tongue distract you for even a little moment.

You can’t help but take a second sip, as the cool liquid soothes your throat. But after that, you hesitantly return the cup to its owner, regret already pooling in your stomach like a heavy stone. Why did you take a sip? Maybe he wanted you to reject his offer, to keep his juice to himself. He probably just feels pity for your tiny miserable figure.

“Uh, thank you for that… Do- Do you mind me paying you back in some way?”, you ask with your raw voice, rasping each syllable.

You feel your insides knot with rising nervousness. You don’t know what compelled you to be so upfront, especially after your hiding, and your embarrassment, but you do owe him for that drink and his attention to you. And maybe you’re hoping to get to know him a little bit more, and nobody is to judge you for that.

“You’re welcome! And uh, it’s totally fine…”, he waves to refuse your offer so easily, while still keeping his brilliant smile, and you don’t quite feel like you just got rejected.

He rejected you and you have no choice but to accept it. That’s what any sane person would do in your situation. But to your misery, you don’t have enough sanity to make such wise decisions (later you would put the blame on the lack of oxygen, or just because his beauty crashed your brain). So for whatever reason you only shake your head at his answer and reach for some crumpled piece of paper. Snatching a pen from under the table, you jot your phone number onto the cracks of paper. Folding the ink and handing it to him you simply said: “Here, my number. Uh, I’m here for the summer, so maybe? I don’t know, text me, if you want to, I guess?”

You bite the insides of your cheek to stop yourself from babbling any nonsense that is crawling up your throat and clogging your brain from thinking straight forward. This day has filled you with enough embarrassment to last you a decade, you probably won’t ever forget this day, the memories haunting you for the rest of your life whenever you want to go to sleep.

He seems surprised, holding your number delicately between his fingers, and maybe you’re imagining things, but to you, it looks like his neck is slightly redder than it used to be just a moment ago. His mouth opens and closes with no words actually leaving him before he finally pockets the paper with no arguments. He agrees on texting you, before straightening to leave the stall with a small wave.

You wave back, hesitance creeping into your actions. The whole thing slowly starts to register in your brain and you want to crawl under the table of the stall and let the darkness swallow you. What did you do? What just happened? You don’t even have his name, he doesn’t know yours. That’s crazy of you, he probably thinks you’re some kind of weirdo… How did you ruin a first meeting in multiple ways?

With a sigh you turn around, only to make eye contact with your grandma, a sly grin adorning her face. And this is how things could in fact get worse. She won’t ever let this up, pestering you about it for probably the rest of your life, no matter how this whole thing turns out. You really don’t want to hear her so-called ‘advice’ or whatever has been cooking up inside her brain. So you immediately turn right back to continue whatever you have been doing before he showed up. Filling the gaps between the products, serving whoever decides to take a peek at your stall, and most importantly, relentlessly ignoring any upcoming conversation about Pound Sweet, no matter how much your grandparents try. No matter how bad you feel for ignoring your grandpa, but regardless of how tame he might look, he is married to his wife. And they both are borderline vicious about this sort of stuff. The elderly still love to gossip, and you’d rather not give them any ammunition about yourself.

The rest of the morning market finished without any hiccups, just with you averting their trials at interrogation in any possible way. And once you’re packing up and on the way home, their questions stopped, and you start to see the end of the tu-

And you had started hoping way too soon, as they corner you once you finally arrive at home. Trapped in a tight spot in the kitchen you have no way to escape the imposing figure of your grandma, especially with your grandpa guarding the door in case you miraculously manage to run away.

“So, you an’ the Midoriya-boy?” she asks with a raised eyebrow, almost like she already knows the answer to that question and you don’t.

“Who?”

You’re aware of the implication. She assumes something is going on with Pound Sweet, but because you don’t know his name, you choose the easiest thing to do and to act ignorant. Name-dropping only works if you know their name after all.

She grunts with annoyance at your shenanigans, waving a hand like she’s trying to get rid of something bothering her. “Dun’ play tha’ game with me, girl. Ya for sure have some stupid apple name for’im. Now, what was happenin’?”

Ow, bullseye. How does she even know that? You bite the insides of your cheek and avoid eye contact with her, trying to come up with some way out, but apparently, you hadn’t responded fast enough.

Her face scrunches up at your little wince before her facial expressions change from her usual scowl to unbelief, shock, triumph. You don’t even have the chance to retort anything, she already has her own conclusion made up in her mind. Still, you feel the need to say something, but nothing comes out of your mouth, leaving you to look like a fish on dry land. All wide eyes and open mouth.

With mirth finally placed on her face, she pushes your chin up to help you close your mouth.

“Imma leave ya to it. Should tell ya to be responsible, but I dun’ care,”, she shrugs and finally releases you from her entrapment.

You almost stumble over your own feet as you hurry with your escape, her snickers following you into your bedroom.

With a groan you let yourself fall onto your bed, burying your shame in your pillows. She won’t ever let you live this down, and every time you go out, she will be teasing you about him, even if you would only be accompanying them. There is no way you will be meeting him in the near future, not after your pushiness earlier.

You’re wailing in your conundrum when your phone suddenly vibrates. You stop your dramatic antics to furrow your eyebrows. Who could be messaging you? You barely text with your friends, and you’re supposed to be on vacation, so your workplace can’t be bothering you.

You stretch your arm to reach your phone on the commode, barely getting a hold of it. Once your phone is secure in your hand and not about to slip from your fingertips, you open your messenger to look at the received message. Unknown number.

And the moment you open the message you almost fling your phone across the room. The message isn’t long, it only consists of a greeting with his name, but that’s already longer than you had anticipated. Which is nothing.

But now you’re standing in front of the next hurdle. How are you supposed to answer? He doesn’t know your name, but to start with that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Could you use the spelling of your name as an excuse to still tell him what you’re called, or should you leave it to the future?

You scrunch your nose and stare at your unmoving phone, expecting an answer to jump out of it and tell you what to do. After just glaring at it you pick your phone up again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, dancing a little over the letters. Writing and deleting. Writing and deleting. Nothing sounds right, no matter what you say. So in the end you just send some basic text, at least you hope it is. After your pushiness earlier, you tell yourself to allow him to choose what to do, that is the main reason you gave him your number after all.

And this time your poor phone didn’t get thrown away, but rather imprisoned into your commode. That way you aren’t able to see or hear any notifications. At least that’s the plan, but you had forgotten how your nervousness makes you check your phone every five minutes, hoping for any kind of answer, and then of course getting disappointed by the radio silence. And you immediately respond to every text, too excited to hold back and wait for a while.

Still, this leads to you regularly texting with Izuku, as it turns out you both are on vacation in this little idle village. None of you really disclosed your work, but his seems to be putting some strain on him, especially after he expressed his relief about this time-out.

So you’re nothing but eager to allow him to experience this village to its fullest potential, leading to your meet-up today. You both are going to visit the summer festival taking place.

You’re already buzzing with excitement. Even if it isn’t a proper date (as much as you want to go on a date with him), it’s finally your chance to act like a normal human being in his presence. Comfortably texting doesn’t mean he would actually enjoy your company, considering how awkward the first time had been. This thought puts an undercurrent of nervousness beneath your excitement, but you’re confident that everything will go well. You’ve come so far, you won’t easily give this up, not now.

After rummaging through your closet you finally discover something fitting for the weather of late summer, while being a tiny bit appealing to the eye. You’re not expecting anything, really, but it can’t hurt to feel good in your own skin when meeting him. Nothing but a meet-up between friends. With a final look in the mirror to make sure everything is in its place, you grab your bag with your necessities and leave the cottage with a simple call-out to your grandparents.

The weather outside is beautiful, just warm enough to not bother anyone, with a brise cooling your skin with its soft touch. You can’t help yourself looking up to watch the clouds slowly passing by. They look so calm and cozy, and for a moment they made you feel at peace. So you keep walking with your face raised towards the sky to let your gaze roam over the speckles of white and blue, the warmth comfortably laying on your face.

Your phone vibrates, ripping you out of your current trance of enjoyment. With a sigh, you sift through your bag to grab your device to look at the new message you just got. The moment you open your messages, a picture of your figure with your nose high in the sky greets you. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering how the sender, Izuku, even got this picture in the first place. You start looking around until you make eye contact with him. A grin already sitting on his face, lighting something inside of you on fire before you reciprocate with a grin of your own. With a wave, you speed up until you could stop in front of him.

You both exchanged a simple greeting, before starting to wander between the stalls and activities. There is quite a collection of stuff to do, ranging from a tombola, to shooting games, and different types of competition. A lot of things seem popular among the locals and the tourists, but nothing really spoke to you, so you aren’t sure what to do. That is until you spot a particular game you’ve always wanted to play: Apple bobbing.

Without thinking you just nudge Izuku to point towards the stall with the tubs propped in front of it. “Hey, that looks fun? Should we try it?” you ask, even if you’d like to just tug him along to play it with you.

Luckily he easily complies with your hidden demand, following you to the desk to pay for two people, before kneeling in front of a basin. His gaze already zeroed on the floating apples. You want to join him by getting onto the ground, but for some reason, he looks up to you, and your brain stops working for a second. He just looks so ethereal in the afternoon sun. His eyes focused on you, shining with the rays of the sun and his hair slightly tousled with the fresh breeze. His hands are simply relaxing on his thighs. He just contemplates you before cocking his head, seemingly noticing your hesitance.

And you almost choke on your own spit, again. But you manage to get your bearings before that happens, shaking your head to get back to your senses.

Carefully you take your place in front of the metal tub. You keep your arms behind your back to avoid using them in any way or form. Widening your stance a bit to fix your balance, before you shoot a look at Izuku, and you both exchange a giddy grin.

The person responsible for this game starts counting down until they give you the start sign. You immediately plunge your face into the filled tub, trying to grasp an apple with your teeth. You have been targeting a specific fruit, but it always manages to escape you just before you could take a proper hold onto it. And you probably had swallowed more water than it would have been healthy. You begin to grow frustrated at your evasive opponent, but before you could just throw the towel, you finally grasp the flesh of the apple between your teeth. Making sure you have a proper bite you finally straighten up. A grin hides behind the fruit and with your emergence, you feel the water coating your skin, cooling with the oncoming breeze, drying with no trace under the sun.

With your prize, you turn to see how the game had been for Izuku and you catch him already looking your way. His hair framing his face a shade darker and dripping. His head resting on his palm, arm propped up on the edge of the basin and a shining red apple in his other hand. He grins at you and you remember the apple still stuck in your mouth. In your haste to get rid of it, you almost let it drop onto the ground, but you catch it before anything happens.

“Uh, I guess you won?” you say with a crooked smile, shifting your weight from one knee to the other, and wondering how long he had been watching you struggle with that single apple.

At least you hadn’t let anything slip, like him being pretty, or how badly you want to brush the strands away from his face.

“Mhm! That was fun,” he smiles broadly, running his fingers through his wet hair, slightly slicking it back.

You blink a couple of times, stunned. Then with a breath, you stand up, taking a bite out of your hard-won apple. The slight acidity runs over your tongue, distracting you from the mesmerizing sight just beside you. You doubt it’s healthy for you to even look at him for such extended time, so you let your gaze sweep over the open field, looking for the next possible activity.

There isn’t anything really catching your interest, but you do discover a stall selling candied apples. And despite the one already sitting in your hand, you have a craving for one of these. Candied apples use a different type of apples after all.

“Oh! Do you wanna get some candied apples?” you ask Izuku, who has gotten up and has been letting his gaze wander over the place.

“Hm, didn’t we just get some apples?” he wonders and puts his hand to his face in a contemplating gesture.

“That’s true, but these are Red Delicious Apples, which often lack proper taste, and candied apples use these Gala Apples. They have a much sweeter flavor!” you try to explain to him without going on a tangent about the different sorts of apples, again.

He giggles at your so-called restraint, already aware of the struggle. “I don’t mind trying them.”

A grin spreads over your face with satisfaction and you march to that specific stall to buy two candied apples. They immediately hand you two sticks, from which one you pass along to Izuku. Turning to your own apple, you take a crunching bite out of it and savor the sweetness melting over your tongue. A content sigh escapes you.

Suddenly a hand materializes in front of you, gingerly wiping the corner of your mouth. Your wide eyes you follow the source of that hand, only to make eye contact with a stuttering Izuku. His face seems to get redder by the second, his hands already frantically waving in front of him.

“Oh, uh, sorry… you just, uh, there was some candy on your face…” he mutters, his free hand already placed on his reddening neck, avoiding your gaze with slightly hunched shoulders.

You’re glad you don’t have a full mouth because it would have been a waste to spit it out.

You waved a hand, trying to finish this topic before it could escalate in any way; your heart already lives in your throat. “No! Uh, I mean, thank you, I’d rather not walk with candy sticking all over me…”

This stopped the conversation, but now you both are silent, rocking on your feet, or shifting your weight. Doing your best to avoid making any sort of eye contact, as you don’t know what to say, you spot something you hadn’t expected at all. A Ferris wheel. You immediately whip around and point at it, already wordlessly pleading with Izuku to get on it.

For some reason, he looks like he already had expected it, and easily agrees; glad to get rid of that earlier tension.

That’s how you both end up last in the current queue, awkwardness already warded off by the quick walk from the stall, from which you almost dragged him behind you. So time goes by faster, you both start talking, picking up topics almost like you have been acquainted for some time (even if you technically have been knowing each other for some time, it’s still different to talk face to face). The conversation flows easily, both of you getting properly engaged in whatever forms the main point of your talking. You’re only focused on him, and that’s how you’re able to notice so many of his tiny quirks. The way he just dives into his explanations and analysis, getting excited about his favorite topics and research. His scarred, calloused hands move in sync with his talking, almost like they’re supporting him in his current endeavor. His stream of thoughts doesn’t mean he’s ignoring your own, but rather the opposite; he’s listening and considering them, leading to an in-depth conversation. You never had the possibility to dive that deep into certain topics, and you appreciate his seemingly vast knowledge in your own interests.

While enjoying this talk, the guilt begins to resurface, blubbering and hot, steaming its way up your throat. The accident wafts in your head, penetrating your nose like the smell of bad eggs. You couldn’t ignore the pressure, the urge to confess everything to him, as if you have committed a grave sin. And maybe you would, if you allow the both of you to explore this any further, without being in the open about anything. You should tell him before it’s too late and you lose yourself completely.

So you take a breath, trying to get rid of the steam clogging your lungs. “Uhm, I’m sorry for interrupting you. But, uh, I need to tell you something… I’ve met you before? I mean before that day at the market… Even, uh, even if it wasn't really… meeting, more like… How do I say that… Didn’t an apple fall onto your head, or something?” you stutter, realizing you don’t have a proper plan for this.

This is going to suck.

He slowly nods, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows and his bottom lip slightly juts out. You err for a moment, getting distracted, but you shake your head to get yourself out of that daze and to continue talking.

“Yes! Uh, the apple was me. No, I mean, uh, I let the apple fall and didn’t see you. Sorry… And… and I didn’t tell you earlier because I- uh, I wanted you to like me? I mean, I wanted a good first impression, I guess?”

You pull your shoulders up and avoid looking at his face, waiting for the inevitable. He’s going to get mad, just walk away. At least the outfall can happen before you completely are gone for him.

You wait for any kind of reaction from him, but all you can hear is his phone ringing. He just sighs before turning around to accept the call. And the moment he starts talking, you realize he’s speaking a language you aren’t understanding at all, and you wish you had learned more languages.

He put the phone away with a furrow between his eyebrows, driving his hand through his hair, letting strands stand slightly and frizzing his curls.

“I’m sorry, but, uh, there has been an emergency, and… and I have to go…” he simply explains with a smile. But this smile doesn’t shine like his usual ones, regret almost seeping through the gaps of his teeth; and you wonder if it’s your fault.

“O-Oh! That’s fine, yeah. Maybe, uh, maybe we could finish another time?” You have to ask, this isn’t the last time you’re seeing him, is it? Maybe… Maybe you still can see each other, right?

Wrong. His mouth pulls down and the furrow seems to deepen. “I- I’m sorry. I have to return to my home, to my country…”

That makes sense. It’s an emergency, he has no other choice. And you understand, you really do. That doesn’t make it hurt less though. He could at least respond to whatever you had said earlier, but he seems to be in a rush, giving you a simple goodbye before walking away, leaving you at the other end of the queue. And for some reason, you feel like he’s running away, like everything is your fault.

You end up getting onto the Ferris wheel. All alone. And despite the sun warming the wagon, it feels cold, empty, soaking. Getting off you only carry a swollen waterline and a burning nose, only to immediately go home without even looking at the rest of the festival.

It hurts more than you thought it would; it feels like rejection. Even if nothing has been going on in the first place. And you have no choice but to bury these feelings deep in the waters of your insides, drowning them in the cold soaking after the steam had left, and to go on with your life. Spending time with your grandparents, surrounded by apples, despite never picking them yourself anymore.

And before you know it (that’s a lie, you’re so well aware how much time passed), summer is over and you’re already boarding the train to return to the city, to your tiny, homey space and your distracting work.

And work is distracting but also exciting. The company you’re working for is planning a collaboration with another one in Japan, and as it’s your job, you will be the one to lead the negotiations. After preparing with enough language and culture classes to get around, a few weeks after returning, you have to leave again, boarding a plane and making yourself comfortable for the upcoming hours. But you don’t mind the lost time, rather enjoying the flight and the food.

Doesn’t stop you from feeling groggy when you finally arrive in Japan, the sleep you managed to get doesn’t satiate your body. The haze lays heavy on your mind, making navigating through the busy streets more difficult than it’s supposed to be. And despite your language courses, you struggle to read the street signs, regretting not learning the language earlier. The language barrier hadn’t budged even with your basis of talk. You hope to strengthen your skills with your stay.

But that’s for future you, because the moment you finally step into the apartment you just want to collapse on the bed and sleep for an unreasonable amount of time. As much as you desire sleep, you have to check for any bugs. This complex is supposedly one of the most secure places in Musutafu, specifically made for important people such as politicians and these heroes.

And you don’t belong in any of these categories of important people, but your company had taken care of the lodging, and you just assume it’s simply because of the documents and knowledge you carry. They can’t afford to lose them on such short notice, but that also means you’re accustomed to some heavy stuff, like the search for espionage in your living places. That doesn’t make you a hero though.

And you can’t help but wonder why these exist. You’re aware how several countries have laws to allow them, training children and turn them into their heroes (which in your opinion is already an iffy subject). But you’re not a lawyer either, so you don’t think it’s your position to complain about it. As long as they keep everyone safe, they can keep their jumpsuits for all you care.

After looking under everything and into every lamp, checking the mirror for anything, you finally get ready to go to bed. You have a couple of days to properly adjust to the time, fixing your current jet lag as soon as possible. But you also plan on walking around the neighborhood, at least getting to know where all the important shops lie.

With that in mind, you fall asleep. And lucky you, you don’t immediately forget about your plans, even though you usually forget things easily. That leads to you leaving the apartment to look for the closest bakery to get yourself a treat for breakfast.

You walk around with leisure and lightness in your step, gazing around and memorizing every little detail you could possibly ever need later on. That is until you finally stumble across a bakery, which you enter with a wide grin. The smell immediately welcomes you with a hug, leading you deeper inside. With a little giddiness, you step close to the counter to properly look at the different loaves of bread and pastries. It takes you some time to decipher the names of the pieces to order in your broken, basic Japanese. Despite your difficulty communicating the clerk still understands you and even helps you in bits and pieces, especially with your pronunciation of certain vowels, and you thank them for it.

They’re in the middle of handing you your package full of tasty food when the glass front shatters with a dazing sound. A surprised scream escapes you before the cashier can pull you behind the desk with them.

Ducking into a corner, panic begins to fill your senses, the smell of spoiling and rotting filling your nose, ants crawling all over your skin, ears rumbling with fallen rocks. You don’t understand what’s going on, but the person in front of you seems accustomed to such situations for some reason and begins helping you to calm down, your hand pressed between hers.

You both stay kneeling like that until a voice calls into the store. And it seems like it’s not the one responsible for this, as the person immediately stands up to join the green-clad person, who seems to be a hero, according to his jumpsuit, and the familiarity and trust of the clerk with him. By the time you join them, they’re in the middle of a conversation, but you can’t keep up with the fast pace, barely understanding any sentences as a whole. Despite this barrier, you manage to bow and to give him your thanks.

But you don’t leave immediately after, rather you begin helping the cashier with the glass and whatever had been thrown around when the whole place exploded. That hero, ‘Deku’ as the clerk called him earlier, tries to help with the work, handling some of the stuff a tiny bit clumsier than you have expected of a so-called hero. And he doesn’t seem to only be a hero, but a rather popular one, as the clerk had recognized him despite his face being covered with a mouth guard and some sort of hood.

And for some reason, you have a weird feeling about him, not a bad one. He feels familiar for some reason, but you’ve never been to Japan before and you’ve never taken an interest in these heroes, so why do you keep looking at him, your gaze just drawn to his moving silhouette. You just shake your head, trying to focus on the work ahead of you (and you think it’s maybe the green of his suit, the one so similar to the warmth of last summer; and maybe it’s the little mannerisms, the moving hands and the palm in neck).

He doesn’t stay for long though, being called by the other heroes to help with another part of the street, which seems to have gotten the worst part of the fight.

After helping with the best of your abilities, you grab your once-forgotten package, not minding how the pastries inside probably don’t look as nice as they used to, but you don’t mind. Who are you to expect them to make you new ones to substitute for them. It isn’t the fault of this place, but rather of those ‘villains’. You’re not going to make a big deal out of it, because it simply isn’t.

You leave the bakery and register how bad the situation has gotten. The rest of the street was torn apart, the mud shining through the chunks of heavy concrete, The other buildings barely stand on their own, their insides already crawling towards the sun, and you have to look back to realize how lucky you have been. If you didn’t enter this almost unscathed place, you might as well be dead. You would be nothing but a colored speck in the cracks of the cement.

The whole concept of heroes and villains is still bizarre to you, but you start to understand the necessity of these people in their silly jumpsuits (even if it still kind of looks like adults playing like children, only with much higher damage potential). And you’re glad these heroes exist, they did save your life today and they deserve the respect.

That doesn’t mean you don’t want to avoid such situations at all cost. So you just make your way back, this time without getting distracted, which is partly due to that incident, but also because you’re getting famished and these pastries are waiting for you, their smell already clinging to you.

And despite your attempts of avoiding villains and the fights they seem to carry with them, it appears that these kinds of situations are a normal occurrence, simply unavoidable, unless you barricade yourself somewhere, and even then there’s a chance of getting in the middle of any attack.

You curse your company and their horrible choices, after being in another attack once again. But you’re in luck, as that one hero, ‘Deku’, has helped with the situation; and diffused it with the help of another, more brash one. The explosive hero had gotten angry with you, for some reason, but you hadn’t understood him well, but his attitude made you want to punch him. And you would have if you were on vacation. You would have at least left a proper bruise before they led you away, but you can’t tarnish the company’s image solely because he’s annoying.

On the brighter side, you interacted a bit more with the green hero, just a few pleasantries, but those made you decide to finally dive into the whole hero business and learn more about them (even if just to discover if all heroes fumble around, are a bit clumsy, or just have a mean streak).

So after finally getting home after that particular fight, you start researching the whole topic of heroes. You slowly learn everything about this hero-culture, and you realize how much it resembles the celebrity culture in the early 21st century in the US. Polls, merch, websites and awards. You even stumble across fanfiction of these celebrities (and you have to admit to reading and enjoying them quite a bit).

And then you come across the current number one hero, Deku; having browsed through numerous footage, interviews and gala pictures. With a face to put behind the mask, you finally realize why you had been drawn to him. But you can’t help but wonder why he didn’t tell you anything about it. On the other hand, he did tell you about how stressful his work is, and with this new information, it all makes much more sense.

For some reason, you don’t want to wait for him to tell you, so you just download a picture of him in his hero costume, and send it to him, accompanied with several question marks. You cringe a little at this action because you both hadn’t talked much lately, both of you busy, but also the whole confession and then runaway thing has been heavy on your mind. That’s why you have been hesitant to text him first.

To your surprise, he immediately responds. A simple sentence.

“Can we talk?”

And usually, this phrase would inject the anxiety straight into your bloodstream, but this time you had initiated the conversation, so you kind of are expecting the topic. So you agree to meet him at a local park the very next day.

Despite the meeting park being local, you struggle quite a bit to find it, almost just going in circles, before you manage to discover the little bridge you both had agreed on meeting on.

You lean against the railing to look into the softly streaming water, watching the colored fish idly swim with the movements, and you regret not getting them any proper food. Still, you enjoy just watching the calming water, slightly leaning forward to get a better view of the underwater world.

“Be careful!” a voice behind you chimes and a hand lands on your shoulder to carefully pull you away. “You could easily slip and fall.”

You glance to the side and recognize Izuku, so you fully turn around to face him, this time leaning your back against the railing.

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t know that…”

After your response you both look at each other, silence stretching between you, one waiting for the other to say something. And because you can’t stand this thickness between you, you clear your throat, trying to prepare to say something.

“Uhm, listen, I understand why you didn’t tell me. The whole ‘my work is dangerous or needs a big amount of secrecy’ isn’t a new concept to me. I just wonder… Uhm, well, I just wonder if you’re hesitant to tell me because of your work ethic, or, uhm, the whole apple accident, and me practically lying to you?” Well done, for some reason you just start talking about that past, not being able to just forget about it. Your peace of mind kind of relies on his answer right now. And you didn’t lie, you’re not mad at him for not telling you, just confused, because he did encounter you twice.

His hands already wave these thoughts away. “No! Well, the thing is just, I was on leave when we met, and uh, I didn’t want you to get hurt because you’re seen with me. And… and I wasn’t sure how your perception of me would change. I liked just being a normal person around you… It definitely wasn’t because of that apple… Uhm, it’s because I already knew when you told me. The leaves didn’t hide you very well, and I kind of got curious about you…”

You don’t say anything and just gape at him, unbelief evident in your speechlessness. It only takes a moment for the embarrassment to truly sink its teeth as you realize how both your alleged first meetings have been a full-on defeat.

With a silent groan, you bury your face in your hands, the realization being uncomfortable and yet gratifying.

“Honestly? This doesn’t make it better…” you grumble but slightly perk up when you hear his soft giggle ring, and you can’t help yourself but peak at his bright, smiling face.

After that you both spend the rest of the time until his patrol simply talking; you answering his inquiry why you’re in Japan with a simple ‘work’ and a grin, as you both cannot disclose details of your occupations.

Once he has to leave for work, he promises to meet you again, or at least to call you; to simply do his best to meet you in the middle this time. And you take his word to heart, but also promising to work with him, meet him in the middle.

This leads to him calling you daily, until you memorize his patrol schedule to call him at the right time to hold a small conversation, avoiding all topics about work and instead indulging in the many interests you both share. And if he doesn’t call, he still sends you a quick text in his break, to just simply let you know that he’s safe and thinking of you. And despite your meetings never happening due to clashing schedules, you’re content with the moments you still get with him, staying on the phone for hours until one of you falls asleep (or has to leave), playing mini-games, or simply sending pictures of cats and whatever has caught your eye.

To your regrets, you never manage to see him face-to-face again before the negotiations have been successful and your work in Japan is officially over. You have to return to your country, as much as you learned to love this country, and as much as you desire to stay. Your work is expecting you to just come back, it’s the only constant in your life in the city. If you decide to throw it all away, who would you be? What were you supposed to do with yourself, without backup, without something else to hold onto?

So you book your return flight, giving yourself a couple of days to pack up and to properly say goodbye to this town. Of course, you told Izuku, and he wants to see you before you go, but his work is using up all his time, he barely has any to even send you a goodnight text. You understand the pressure he’s under, and there’s no way you want to put more weight onto his shoulders.

After spending your last days just enjoying the place, you take a cab to the airport, and for the first time in your stay, you almost wish for a villain attack, if only to see him briefly. But nothing happened. The whole way has been peaceful and nothing happened, not when it finally would have been convenient for you.

With a last look at the skyline of the city, you enter the airport. Inside you start looking for the check-in but stop in your tracks when you hear someone calling your name. Did you mishear, and it’s just another person with a similar name? Despite this possibility, you look around until you hear the same shout once again.

And then you spot it, a green head of hair above everyone else.

Izuku seems to have noticed you at the same time, making eye contact with you before breaking into a big smile, at least his eyes do, as the rest of his face is covered by a medical mask. He begins hurrying towards you, avoiding any collision with the people around you to the best of his abilities.

After a short moment, he finally stops in front of you, hand already scratching the back of his neck. “I’m glad I still caught you! Uhm, here.”

A colorful speck appears in front of you, a small bouquet of flowers, and you gasp slightly, eyes widening at the sight of them.

“Izuku, what, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy, but your work…” you ask, voice slightly wavering with confusion, but also accepting the handful of flowers with a giddiness.

The tips of his ears turn red, indicating his flushed face. “Uh, I wanted to ask you out… on, uh, a date, but you know. We barely saw each other and.. and I thought I still had some time. But then you told me, you were leaving and I had to do something! I mean, I’m not asking you to stay, I would love for you to stay, but uh, I know you can’t, but maybe you could visit sometimes? Or- or I could visit? Maybe? I honestly didn’t think this through…” he rambles, trying to explain his thought process with a strained voice and a hand in front of his mouth, muffling his mumbles.

You’re at a loss for words (which seems to be a recurring theme with Izuku), and your heart feels like it’s sitting in your neck, daring you to do something. And you do, once you process his words, a smile spreads over your face, before you carefully take his scarred hand into yours, letting your thumb softly caress his callouses.

“Izuku, I would love to go out with you,” you answer in a light voice, in a voice full of the warmth of last summer and the flow of the water; simply watching as his forest green eyes accept your offerings, lighting up, tearing up.

His fingers press against yours, caressing your knuckles and squeezing his palm against yours.

And you wish this moment would never end. But you have a flight to catch, and he’s supposed to be at work. Yet this isn’t a goodbye, even if you’re leaving. Reluctant to let go, he presses his forehead against yours in a silent goodbye, none of you wanting to say the words outright, trying to let any kind of illusion live longer.

But eventually, you have to break those connections to him, the loss making your skin yearn and long for the warmth of him. With small steps, you force yourself to retreat, to only glance at him occasionally until his figure has been concealed by the sheer amount of people. And your insides hurt, trying to convince you to go back, to just stay here with him, but you continue to step further, to catch your flight, to persist through these endless hours up in the sky, and to arrive in your town. In your home. But for some reason, you feel estranged, almost like you’ve never truly belonged to this place. And this thought only pushes you further, your plan slowly clicking into place like Tetris. And you're going to clear it, to win.

You punch through whatever obstacle lies ahead of you: the jetlag, the needed signatures for the forms, the time it took you to finish different courses and meetings. Whatever must be done, you will do it.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Izuku and you stay in contact as much as possible, even with the time difference, and your difficult schedules; enjoying the late-night calls while he prepares to go on patrol. And not once had you slipped, allowing him to be unaware of your workings behind the scenes.

You didn’t want to tell him until you finally arrived in Japan until all your work finally paid off. You have managed to convince your workplace to permanently relocate you to Musutafu with the agreement to travel to whatever place whenever they need you. Considering you often have to comply with these rules anyway, this was a striking deal in your favor.

So there you are. Stepping into the airport, immediately trying to pull your phone out to call Izuku and to surprise him. But before you even have the chance to dial his number, you once again spot a mop of green hair. You doubt your senses, doubt if it’s even him in the first place until the tell-tale green continues to move closer to you.

And then he steps out of the crowd, hair slightly tousled, medical mask pulled down to reveal a bright, slightly mischievous grin, and his focussed gaze, looking you up and down, filled with wonder and curiosity.

For a moment you both just stand there, looking at each other, trying to assess if this situation is real before you just let go of your baggage to jump at him, to wrap his huge frame with your own arms if only to feel his very real warmth and heartbeat. Too immersed in the moment and spurred by his own arms slightly crushing you into him, you put your hands on his face, appreciating every little detail, his freckles, his forest green eyes only looking at you, and his plush lips. And you wonder how they would feel on your own before they just meet yours. You don’t know if you’re the one who moved, or if he seemingly reacted to your thoughts, but it doesn’t matter. Only he matters, only the way his lips caress yours matters.

After barely a breath you both split, only leaving the least amount of space between you, forehead on forehead, nose touching nose, breath mingling like dancers. And your grins mirroring.

“So, whatcha say? Wanna let me take you out?” you ask with a slight tease, anticipation filling the little room between you.

He accepts. His smile warming your ribcage, and the smell of apple pies seems to linger between you.

And you wonder if the next time you climb on a tree, someone would be waiting on the ground and catching the sweet fruits for you.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #bnha reader insert #meet fruit collab #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku x you #izuku midoriya x you #deku x reader #deku x you #mha reader insert

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mcverse · 2 years ago

Text

ꨄ︎ Paring: Neteyam x Avatar! F! Reader

ꨄ︎ Requested: Yes/No

ꨄ︎ Type: Part 1 out of 5 (Previous/Next)

ꨄ︎ Word count: 2.3K

ꨄ︎ Warnings: Death, conscious transfer, illness, depression, angst, not spell checked

ꨄ︎ Side Bar: Lied bout how many parts ✌️

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+

You were the fault in the stars—an anomaly right from your first breath.

The sky people, who technically were your own, had descended upon Pandora with a singular intention of seizing what was not theirs, continuing the vicious cycle of destruction and resolution that had marred their history.

In the midst of this chaos, your parents, two faceless soldiers whose names and faces are shrouded in a haze of pain and heartache, had their own hidden agenda that they pursued with reckless abandon.

Their clandestine romance, born out of passion and desperation, resulted in your fragile birth—a constant reminder of their illicit love in a world that will struggle to accept you.

Much like spider, whom you considered your own brother now, the two of you were both deemed too young for cryogenic preservation and left behind on the unfamiliar terrain of the alien planet.

Unfortunately unlike Spider, your body was weak, afflicted with a genetic strain inherited from one of your biological parents. Perhaps this, among other factors, contributed to the decision to abandon you on Pandora, leaving you to face the harsh realities of survival alone.

Despite your rational understanding of the circumstances, as you came to accept the voice in your head as your own and not a figment of your imagination, the unjustness of their decision still lingers within you.

It certainly wasn’t fair.

Your delicate condition left you confined to the high camp, unable to roam freely and appreciate the majestic wonders of Pandora like Spider. Every step you took was accompanied by painful bouts of coughing, requiring you to rely on a specialized oxygen mask designed to alleviate your symptoms.

Even within the safety of the base built for humans, the air meant to sustain you offered no respite. Such was the irony of your existence, born into a world where both forms of air you breathed posed a constant threat to your survival. Life had thrown you a curveball long before you even knew what it meant.

But it wasn't all doom and gloom.

Although you were too young to return to Earth and too ill to venture far from your room, you seized the opportunity to explore what was within your reach. Every video log, every movie, and every book, left behind by the sky people, some of which a child shouldn’t have access to was reviewed by you to fill in the absence of adventure in your day.

For a while, it was sufficient, and you gradually came to terms with the inevitability of your fate. There was no cure for your ailment, not on Pandora, and certainly not without the funds to obtain one. You accepted that you would die here, in this place, as you.

It was during this time that you became fascinated with the study of physiology, absorbing every bit of knowledge about your own body and how it could have been saved under different circumstances. You spent countless hours researching medical practices and surgeries, diving deep into your own anatomy and discovering how various medications and herbs could extend or improve life.

Sharing your newfound knowledge with Spider, Lo’ak, and Kiri became a daily ritual that brought you joy and excitement. You would eagerly offer up fascinating facts to the Sully children and Kiri whenever they stopped by to visit or fetch your brother.

Though they didn't always grasp the intricacies of physiology like you did, they were just as enthusiastic to learn and would often opt to stay cooped up in your room, asking questions both silly and serious, and enjoying the happiness that radiated from you.

The moments spent with Spider, Lo’ak, and Kiri in your room were some of the best memories you would always treasure. It was through your eagerness to share your newfound knowledge and energy that you got to know them better, especially Kiri, who became your closest friend and confidante. You were so close that she was like a sister to you, always by your side.

However, the limitations imposed by your illness often left you feeling lonely and isolated when your friends were not around. Your physical limitations reminded you that you had a faulty body that was unable to explore the vast world of Pandora like they could. And that is where you messed up.

You fell into a deep depression, which gradually turned into a false sense of determination. You felt like you could survive out there like Spider, or rather, that you wanted to. What was the point of living if you had to live with this feeling of not being in control? It was actually pathetic.

It was a reckless decision to leave the safety of your home and venture into the forest, following the group of newly-adults, taking care to move slowly so as not to cough and give yourself away. It was even worse when you brazenly entered the Omaticaya clan, knowing full well that you were a stranger and seen as an enemy of the natives.

Being surrounded by creatures larger than you, most of them hissing and armed with weapons, was overwhelming. Panic set in, causing hyperventilation, which was exacerbated by your illness. Despite the mask, it was difficult to breathe, doing very little to keep you conscious and your eyes began to roll to the back of your head.

You welcome the darkness, craving the peace it brought, but never enough to end your life yourself. In that moment, you felt alive for once, and you never wanted to leave. You had no desire to return to the life you once had.

But things don't work that way, and eventually, your eyes flutter open. For a moment, you're disoriented, you wonder if you're still gone—whether you're dead or just existing to not exist. Your vision is still blurry, but as you blink and flicker your eyes, the colors of glowing, bioluminescent blue slowly come into focus.

The sight before you is truly breathtaking. The glow emanating from the tree mesmerizes you and fills you with a sense of wonder and awe. As you gaze at it in rapture, you feel an intense urge to touch it, to feel its warmth and energy. You reach out your hand, but to your shock, the hand that extends is not yours.

The hand that hovers before you is large, bony, and blue, with five fingers like yours. Confusion and bewilderment seize you, and you stammer out a feeble, "W-What?" as you try to make sense of what is happening.

As you stare at the mysterious blue hand, your eyes widen when you see another identical hand firmly grasp on the blue hand hovering before you. It's not just a visual illusion—you can feel the pressure on your skin. Slowly your eyes follow up the arm of the mysterious hand to find Kiri smiling softly at you, tears glistening in her eyes.

The sight of her tears immediately worries you, filling your head with warning bells and you return the squeeze, “Kiri, what’s wrong?” you ask, voice oozing in concern.

She returns your concern with a wider smile, her teeth gleaming under the bioluminescent light and shakes her head, “I’m okay,” she assures you, her hand trembling as she continues, “It’s just… to see you like this makes me so happy.”

Confusion etches on your face as you furrow your brow, struggling to comprehend Kiri's statement, "See me like what?" you mumble, tilting your head quizzically. Your eyes dart back to the now intertwined hands before you, trying to make sense of what you're missing.

As you feel Kiri's hand on the other bony blue hand, you can't help but notice that it's not your own. The hand is obviously Na'vi, which you are not. Your mind is filled with unanswered questions, and the nagging feeling of not understanding the situation consumes you. You look back at her, repeating your question with a sense of urgency, "What do you mean, Kiri? When you say 'see you like this', what am I like?"

Kiri kneels down beside you, and you feel her release your hand. She slides it up your arm and firmly grasps your bicep, while her other arm reaches around your upper back and uses all her strength to pull you up into a sitting position. You're momentarily discombobulated, realizing you must have been lying down before, but you can't remember when or how you ended up in that position.

“You fainted,” she replies softly after a beat of silence, pulling on you slightly to lean more on her. You look up at her, mouth slightly agape at her words, “You almost died,” she continues, brows frowning like her lips, “We almost lost you.”

The weight of her words hits you hard, and you feel a lump form in your throat. You inhale sharply, only to realize that when you do, your lungs contact and flatten smoothly without a following cough. It's a strange sensation, and you can't help but marvel at it for a moment, grateful to be breathing easily again.

Then your attention is back on Kiri, eyeing her questionably, as you notice something strange, “Did I grow or have you gotten shorter?” Whether it was sitting or standing, Kiri is normally seen towering over you by several feet, but right now she’s exactly the same level as you.

Kiri's expression twists into a grimace, and she opens her mouth to answer, but before she can speak, another voice cuts in, firm and straight to the point, “No! You have passed through the eyes of Eywa and returned.”

Your gaze shoots up to the source, and you find yourself gazing into the piercing yellow eyes of a female Na'vi standing before you. They felt as if she was looking straight through you, leaving nothing hidden or unexamined. Immediately your struck by the intensity of her. There's a raw power to her presence that feels both intimidating and awe-inspiring, as if you're standing before a force of nature.

“Come again?” you stutter, worry slowly creeping up on you as you are once again confused by another statement. You weren’t understanding a lot of what was going on right now. You tear your eyes from her to look back at Kiri and raise your brows at seeing Lo’ak and Spider now standing behind her.

When did they get there?

“What does she mean? Who is she?” You whisper hurriedly to your best friend, glancing occasionally at the boys, hoping if Kiri doesn’t give you the answers you want, they will.

“[Name],” another voice speaks, calling out to you. You perk up at it, instantly recognizing it to be Norm, which it was when you find him standing in his avatar body beside the mysterious woman from before. He walks closer to you, kneeling when close enough just like Kiri, “Sweetie, when you fainted, you stopped breathing for a few minutes. Jake called Max and I to help.”

Jake. That’s Kiri and Lo’ak’s dad. You’ve only met him once when he was stopping by to talk to Norm. He was really sweet and made you feel normal just like his kids.

“Okay…” you stare at him warily, waiting for him to get to the point.

He looks away briefly, seemingly to gather his thoughts before looking back at you, “Max and I know more than anyone how much you’ve been struggling. So even though we didn’t have the resources before, we were determined to help you,” he pauses as Max comes up behind him and beam at you, “We started making you an Avatar 6 years ago. Some test still needed to be ran but we’re out of time.”

You push away from Kiri slightly, lips forming a tight line as your squint at him, “What are you trying to say, Norm?” A part of you knew deep down, but the denial was heavy, to think you could be like everyone else, no illness or restrictions was a myth.

“You’re human body died, you are now consciously living in your avatar.”

His words caused a reaction, albeit a slow one. First your lips start to quiver, and your body trembles in disbelief before tears pool at your eyes. Kiri quickly wraps you in her arms, laying her head on top of yours as you lean your face into her to conceal your choked sobs.

To think something you had dreamed about has actually came true. The many nights you stay up, coming up with solutions to you, the problem. You didn’t know what else to feel, if not relief beyond the depths of your soul.

“Eywa has gave you a second chance,” Kiri mutters lowly, but it was loud to you as her hot breath fans your ears and cause it to twitch, “I’m so happy for you, [Name].”

This time you pull away from her completely, smiling up at her with glossed over eyes and chest filled with so much warmth, you might overheat, “Thank you, Kiri.” Slowly, you rise up from your sitting position with her help. You were stunned at the distance from the ground at full height. This was going to take some time to get used to.

“Max, Norm… Thank you, I can’t express that enough.” You try to walk to them, but your legs were wobbly so you more like stumble instead. Eventually, you reach them and pull them both into a hug, which probably looked silly as Max was the shortest by far in the bunch.

“You being safe and healthy is enough.” Max says, being the first to pull away and Norm nods, agreeing with him as he pulls away next, “We still have to run test though.”

You chuckle at that, rolling your eyes as you nod to him, “Understood.” You didn’t care how many test they had to run, as long as you were able to run and breathe without falling over.

Run.

You wanted to run.

Your ears flicker at the thought, stalling your side quest as your attention is drawn to them. You went to grab them in awe and felt something swish behind you, “Huh?” You twist your body, wait a second, and laugh when your eyes land on a tail; your tail, “Amazing!” You exclaim, smile growing wider.

Someone clears their throat, successfully making you stop and look at who did. To your surprise it was Jake, who was standing by the female Na’vi from earlier. He too had a smile on his face, happy to see you back and better than ever.

Though he haven’t spent much time with you, he was sympathetic to your situation, as it felt somewhat similar to his past self and unknowingly to you, have allowed Norm and Max to create a Avatar for you. It was only a matter of time before you became one like him.

“How are you feeling?,” he smiles warmly at you, like a father does his child. It made you feel giddy and shy, “It might feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it.”

You give him a curt bow, afraid to look him in the eyes. Before it was easy, it just felt different now. You couldn’t explain it, you just knew, “Thank you, it feels… different but I’m still me.”

He nods, walking closer to stop a foot away, “Good… [Name], you are Na’vi now. That means you have the opportunity to become apart of the Omaticaya clan.” He raises a hand and places it on your shoulder.

You knew what that meant. That means you’ll have to complete rites to become one of them. But that was the least of your worries; you knew nothing out the land except from what you read or what Norm brought back and you didn’t know how to hunt or fight for yourself. There was no way you can pass.

As if he can read your mind, he points to a male Na’vi, much younger than him with braided hair and sharp features. He resembles a handsome sculpture you read in history books, but better, “My son, Neteyam, will teach you the way of Na’vi.”

“Dad,” Lo’ak steps forward to protest but gets shut down with one look, his eyes cast down and he steps back into the background.

Poor Lo’ak, you thought, didn’t even stand a chance.

“Neteyam is a good teacher and warrior. You’ll learn fast.” Jake tells you, proudly.

“T-Thank you.” You bow again, much deeper this time. You didn’t know why you were bowing or if it was even appropriate in this situation, you just read somewhere that it was respectful.

He nods again, turning away to walk over to his son, the one he calls Neteyam. He whispers something to him, something that causes his lips to form a tight line and look over at you in annoyance as his dad leave him there.

You flinch at that and look away abruptly, just now taking notice how there were a whole ton of Na’vi circling around you all. How overwhelmed must you’ve been to not notice?

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of you temporarily as a force hits your stomach. Looking down, your body relaxes when you see it’s Spider. It was a little weird to be the taller one this time, but that didn’t stop you from returning his hug.

“Do that again and I will kill you!” He spits, glaring up at you in faux aggression. His hold on you, along with the pout on his lips tells the opposite of his words, “Scared the hell out of me.” he eventually admits, glare softening a great deal.

“That’s the opposite of what we want, bro.” Lo’ak comes up beside you and swings his arms over your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug of some sort, “But if you do, I’ll team up with him to make it happen.” He teases, smirking at you.

Kiri comes up from behind to push him off you, replacing his arm with hers around your waist, “Over my dead body,” she rolls her eyes and cheese at you, “I can’t wait to show you pandora. You’re going to love it,” she says, tugging you with her towards the forest, “Come on.”

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doberbutts · 4 months ago

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Who would you say is your favorite unpopular LOTR character? Personally, mine is Beorn! I would also like to be able to change into a bear and live alone in the woods with a bunch of animals.

My favorite lotr character, period, is Smeagol. My whole deal is angsty bad boys with tragic backstories and yes Smeagol is very silly and very fucked up but at the end of the day, does that not describe him to his very being? Less "I could fix him" more "you poor thing". It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand etc etc and with him being a constant reminder to Frodo and Sam that they are looking directly at their fate because it's not a matter of if the Ring will turn them into him, but when. They've already seen it in each other, and in Bilbo. Sam reacts with anger and scorn. Frodo reacts with pity and compassion. Neither are wholly right nor wrong- Smeagol mutters to himself constantly about killing them in their sleep and has attempted to kill them more than once, but he's also their only ticket into Mordor and in the end his presence at Mount Doom technically helped get the job done when Frodo failed at the last second.

Smeagol was just like them. And then he came into contact with something completely and totally evil, through no fault of his own, and it ripped him apart from the inside. There's very little of the man (hobbit) he used to be left within him centuries later. And it wasn't his fault. He wasn't looking for the Ring. He and his cousin just found it by accident. A seemingly harmless plain golden band. They'd probably found hundreds of similar trinkets playing in the river as kids. Why should this one be any different?

Except it was. And it had no mercy for him. And it twisted him into something almost completely unrecognizable. And when he is recognized, by people who are not very different to what he used to be, they immediately react with disgust and rejection and fear, because holy hell, you mean this thing can turn us into that???

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tanoraqui · 5 days ago

Text

For the record: at the start of 2024, I had 3 WIPs that had each been 2/3 - 3/4 finished for at least a year - though each was a totally different length of fic. They were all delayed mostly because they were all fics where I knew I'd need to bring my A-game in order to fulfill the vision in my head. So I made a resolution to finish them that year...

And I DID.

In Which Space Orcs are Men, 4.4k, Silmarillion/tumblr-based scifi mini-genre. I fucking NAILED this balance of scifi worldbuilding and Silmarillion easter eggs in this fic, and the way the 'humans are space orcs' genre blends so well with Tolkien on the theme of unexpected hope and love in the vast darkness. My writing was lovely. You can read it as a Tolkien nerd or just a normal nerd. So many people have said it made them cry. Game: A+

Justice of the Noldor, 8.6k, Silmarillion. THE epic battle to end all epic battles (of the First Age, and all ages until Dagor Dagorath). I did good on the poetic language and keeping the extended action sequence interesting, and giving assorted characters spotlight moments, and the whole general vibe of fate in the process of culmination. There's a thing or two I'm not 100% satisfied with, but overall A-game BROUGHT.

The Rise and Fall of Empires, 34.4k, Silmarillion/LotR (how does one classify the Second Age...). AU where Annatar decides to be slightly less evil and he stays in Eregion and marries Celebrimbor and they end up destroying Númenor anyway because maybe Númenor deserved it by then, my beloved. Admittedly, this one wavered between "gotta bring my A-game" and "this is a fun and silly AU; it's FINE if it's not perfect", and that...shows. I think I got too in the weeds on the social/economic/geopolitical details of teeing Númenor up for destruction, and Celebrimbor has an awkward half-done character arc... But I am my own worst critic; it is overall both fun and well-written, I hit the tone I was aiming for, I think I did the heist-style structure pretty well, and I finished and posted it on schedule! B or B+ on a curve against What Could Be, especially in this fandom full of superb writing, but no one else had written it so...A- game.

FANFIC RESOLUTION FOR 2025: Return to, perhaps even finish, In Heart, aka AU where Fëanor decides that the Doom of Mandos is clearly just the Valar trying to mess with his head, so instead of "fear of treason" he is to [grits his teeth] trust his unwanted half-siblings...and everything kinda spirals out from there. It's currently ~25k at 5 chapters, and I have...realistically I bet ~50k to go. I have such a good ending in mind. I just have to (have the characters) earn it.

#my fic #the silmarillion #fanfiction #new years

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thesnazzysharky · 20 days ago

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Ranking the specimens based on how tragic they are (2/2)

Annnnd we're back! Make sure to check out part 1 before this one. Let's get right back to ranking some specimens.

12. Body Bag

For a long while, not much was known about this undead corpse. People had their guesses and theories about who this man previously was; such as some speculating that he could have possibly been a body builder or prisoner of war due to how oddly fit his body is for a corpse. But as for what killed him? The dent in his head could give some implications, but anything could have killed really.

He does have two lines of text that show up before you face him or get hit from him.

"Why did you leave your soul behind?"

"The worm feeds from you."

Assuming that the first line of text is a genuine question coming from him and that he mentions Ghost Cow (the worm) as a way of trying to warn the player. The implication is that he's being possessed by Ghost Cow like the other monsters, which does add some tragedy. Still, not a whole lot to work with here.

That is until a certain chandelure created a fan story for him which was later made canon. That story being that he was once an average dude who worked at 7/11. He seemed to be a pretty good guy, but unfortunately life is often unfair to those who are innocent. His job didn't pay him one day, his health insurance ran out, and he was destined to die due to living in the hellhole that is America and its non-free health care environment.

He then essentially attempted suicide by buying a body bog, crawling into it, and I guess just sitting there until he died from starvation or thirst. This attempt would be unsuccessful as the body bog he bought turned out to be parasitic and paranormal in nature. Making his body decompose, stripping him of any autonomy, yet still keeping him alive. A fate worse than death.

Even when he was found and brought to Karamari Hospital, he could not scream for help. He could not move. He couldn't do anything. So nobody was able to help or save him before he was thrown down in the morgue with the rest of the corpses. Where he would lay dormant there before being used as a puppet by Ghost Cow years later.

Ignoring the obviously silly aspects of the story, it is pretty damn sad. To see someone suffer a fate even though they clearly didn't deserve it is always painful. The fact that his first course of action was to kill himself after realizing he was doomed once his health insurance ran out doesn't help matters and I wouldn't be surprised if something similar has happened in real life before.

Also the part where he can't scream for help once he arrives at the hospital? A specific fear of mine. That is fucked up and tragic. Although the silly parts of the story can undermine the horror and tragedy of it, I think the Body Bag deserves this place on the list.

11. Subject 5

You don't like starving do you? Of course you don't. Nobody does. It's uncomfortable, unpleasant, and when things get really bad? It's downright painful.

Now imagine starving daily and I mean 24/7. You try to eat and eat as much as you can, but it's never enough. It will never be enough. You're still hungry. You still feel empty. You're still in pain. Sounds like a living hell right? That's what Subject 5 has to go through. Subject 5's death screen is pretty easy to understand and tells us everything we need to know. While it was in its test tube, it dreamed of being free from it. It wanted to see what the outside world was like. It was a curious creature that hoped that one day it could learn more about its environment. But once it was free and broke out? It was no longer being fed food from its tube. So it began to starve... constantly.

Subject 5 is just an animal. A scared and confused animal in either a great amount of discomfort or pain. Its freedom turned out to be a curse as its constant hunger would never be satisfied now that it was free. This is probably why the creature stays in the mansion. In the mansion there is an infinite amount of rooms. Plenty of wood, stone, and other materials that it could snack on. Maybe not the best meal, but it's something. Because if it made it out into the wild? It would have starved to death either from either not being able to find enough food or overeating its prey and leaving it in a foodless environment.

These creatures, as there are three of them, will never experience the joy of exploring the world they live in and they never will. They'll forever be stuck in the mansion. Constantly hungry and in misery.

All of that just from one single death screen. Jesus... I think we're starting to enter the "just downright depressing" territory...

10. Gel

Once a human who through unknown means encountered a strange green substance that took over their body. A note that was written by this victim goes into some detail.

"Spouting, Splashing, Soaking. Innards, Ingest, Invoking. Nailing, Never, Stops the Choking"

As described in this note and in its death screen, the Gel absorbs you into itself, which is a very painful and horrifying process. But it doesn't fully kill you by doing this. You're presumably still conscious and most likely in a great amount misery or pain while being trapped within in it. Another fate worse than death scenario here.

The real unnerving part is that it's implied that there are multiple people within Gel as it states "We are one but I am many...". The death quote is presumably coming not from one of the many victims within Gel, but the green substance, the actual specimen, itself. implying that it's sapient to some degree.

Around 100 people are in there. In a hivemind that they did not want to be apart of. Do they hear the voices of all the others? Can they even hear or speak while inside Gel? One of Gel's voice lines sounds like someone within it is trying to say "let me out!". It seems these people can try to call for help, but can't do anything besides that, as the slime they're trapped in is the main one in control.

Gel is an odd case as not much is known about him compared to other specimens, which does bring him down a bit. He still makes it pretty high on this list as the note and death quote does give us enough to work with and it is tragic and unnerving.

9. Deer Lord

Similar to Body Bag, Deer Lord originally was pretty cool but otherwise pretty unknown when it came to what his origins were. Luckily Lost in Vivo was released and explained some things.

He was once a young boy who lived in a poor and struggling family. His family could not find any good or affordable food, so out of desperation, they prayed and called out to Bayagototh. Bayagototh responded by giving them an infinite amount of trees made out of meat, but in exchange, took away the boy from his family. Later being turned into what he is now.

The boy was taken away from his family and had his humanity stripped away from him. The worst part? Some lines of text in his death screens in both the main game and Dollhouse show us what was going through the boy's mind while transforming into his current deer form. Perhaps implying that he still remembers his past humanity in one way or another.

"And I saw, from eyes that were not mine.

And I felt, with a fear I could not reason."

The boy waking up and being filled with fear upon realizing the body he woke up in is completely different.

"And as I slept, and as I grew.

Something stirred, both root and sinew.

I cannot eat, nor can I starve."

The boy getting used to his new body.

"A face on the great tree did I carve.

It spoke to me, it whispered things.

It demands more life, demands more rings."

The boy, now known as Deer Lord, grew to become a great asset in Bayagototh's eyes. Whispering things in the demigod's ear, wanting the him to bring them more victims that he absorbed into his torso. Making him their obedient and excellent servant.

That is all Deer Lord's existence comes to. Serving for some sort of demonic entity instead of being a kid who enjoys playing games or spending time with his family. Does make you question how much free will Deer Lord has exactly.

It also makes you question if Deer Lord even remembers his family. If he does, did he ever try going back to them? Or did he not try due to the fear of no longer being seen as a son to his parents and instead as a horrific monster? No answer to these questions, but it's still pretty sad to think about.

The only thing that could hold Deer Lord back a bit is that he does kill people. Or rather puts them in fate worse than death scenario. Although it is implied he only targets those with and/or a history of aggressive behavior. That and considering the last line in his death screen in Dollhouse, he may be killing others out of obligation more than anything. Doesn't exactly make it better, but there is some reasoning to it.

Either way, I think Deer Lord deserves his spot on this list.

8. The Old Man

What at first seems like some random psycho residing in Specimen 12, turns out to be a pretty depressing character in SJSM. One of the most indepth characters in the game in fact.

The notes in Specimen 12 tell us a story of a man who wandered into the paranormal structure; thinking it was a resting place. He unfortunately ends up falling into the paranormal mansion's schemes. Becoming delusional, paranoid, and soon to be violent. As he runs away and hides from the mansion's previous host, he then comes to the conclusion that he'll kill his stalker so that he can finally be safe and at peace.

He unknowingly doomed himself by doing this. Now he was the mansion's new host and became the exact thing that he was trying to run away from.

We get to know more about this man in Endless Mode. Originally a vlogger who wanted to explore the mansion for his urban exploration channel, only to find himself permanently stuck there. Which adds even more tragedy to his situation. Especially considering that he seemed to be a pretty chill and relaxed dude before we see how paranoid and scared he was in the notes we find in Specimen 12.

The Old Man is parallel to the protagonist. Both went to the mansion to fill their interests. Both wield weapons that they obtained from Deer Lord's forest. Both can end up turning into paranoid, mindless, ruthless monsters if they end up falling into their madness and delusion. The Old Man is a warning to the protagonist about what they could become. Considering that he was a vlogger that ran his own channel, the Old Man most likely wasn't always an old man. He was once a young man, just like what is implied to be the case with the protagonist. A dude who just wanted to share some urban exploration videos to the world because that was his passion. But now he's stuck in the mansion. A mansion within said mansion nonetheless. He has grown old, lost all of his free will, and has become a monster through no choice of his own.

It's awful to think about what his family and the fans of his channel must have felt when he suddenly disappeared one day. Even more awful to think that thousands of people have met a similar fate to him. Really reminds you of just how horrifying and sad it would be to be trapped within the mansion. Not even because of all the monsters that will be chasing and trying to kill you, but because of how much mental damage you would receive just from being in a situation like that. To the point that your mind will break altogether.

7. The Parasite

This is an interesting one. Because the tragedy doesn't exactly come from the specimen itself, but through other elements. Because the specimen itself is obviously downright malicious at worst or just an animal acting on instinct at best. Similar to Gel in a way.

There is one thing that the Parasite represents: Sheer and utter dread and hopelessness.

While in the old GL Labs, you read about an unfortunate GL Assistant who succumbed to this thing. Left in an abandoned facility, frantically trying tear off the parasite as it spreads over their body, all to no avail. There was no chance of escape the moment they came into contact with it. They only thing they could do was leave behind a note warning the next victim. You can't outrun the Parasite. You have to stay close to it.

That brings me to its chase theme. "Getting there", as some have described it, is downright dreadful, hopeless, and depressing. I would save this for a post where I talk about the soundtracks of SJSM, but I might as well talk about what comes to my mind when I hear this soundtrack to drive in my point.

This soundtrack is exactly what I would imagine when you take the word "hopeless" and put it into a track. I imagine this is what was going through the GL Assistant's head as their body was being taken over by the Parasite. Trying to scratch and claw the thing off, only hurting themselves in the process, and soon realizing that there really is no escape from this thing. Dropping to their knees and silently crying to themselves as they accept that there's nothing they can do.

Another thing I imagine is that this is what is going through the protagonist's head upon seeing the creature and having to keep away from it while keeping it close at the same time. A mix between disgust and fear of having to even look at the alien thing and sorrow for the worker who turned into that. They hate what they're looking at, they fear that they could succumb to the same dreadful fate that the assistant went through, but they have to keep it close. Otherwise? They're dead.

Finally, its death screen. Specifically what the binary code states which translates to this.

"You are more than just an animal.

Use the soul you've been given.

And be responsible for your actions."

This could represent 2 things. 1. This is the protagonists fading humanity trying to reach out to them. To no avail, as the Parasite has already taken full effect, thus it comes out in binary code that the protagonist can't understand. 2. This is the previous victim of the Parasite trying to reach out to you, again, to no avail for the same reasons I stated before. Both options are sad. This specimen is just fucked up really.

6 & 5. The Husks and Woormy Charles

I think it's easy to understand why these guys are so high on the list. They're literal children.

Not just that, but these poor kids were stripped of their afterlife, forced to inhabit small and lifeless dolls against their will, were treated terribly in unethical experimentation, punished through inflicted pressure to keep them "in check", and weren't even seen as people by the workers who kidnapped them. And when GL Labs didn't have a use for them anymore? They were just abandoned and left to rot in the Dollhouse.

Woormy Charles rubs some salt in the wound by his note informing us just how much the workers at GL Labs were assholes. He was summoned and kept in a doll, but he broke out of it due to trying to stretch in it and finding it to be too small for him. Instead of just leaving the guy alone or try to give him a bigger doll to inhabit, they just tried the same thing over and over again, leading to more discomfort and pain for Charles. Eventually they chose to lock him behind a steel door, not wanting to deal with him. Disgusting and sad shit.

To add some more tragedy to Charles, it's implied by his death screen, particularly the lines "From these small holes the tendrils of bone finally escape. You are finally free of this constricted bag of flesh." that Charles kills you out of wanting to help you. Making the misunderstanding that you're trapped within a small body just like him. Even in his pain and discomfort, he's a precious little guy who doesn't mind trying to help others, even if his "help" results in unintentional death.

Everything about the Husks and Woormy Charles is sad. Imagine being a child who died early in their life. That's already depressing and sad enough, but at the very least you get to have some peace in afterlife. An afterlife where these kids got to spend some time with their ancestors presumably. That is until suddenly you wake up one day and you're in a strange facility surrounded by people you don't recognize. You're back on Earth, but you're stuck as a helpless doll now. A doll that can and will be used like an object and nothing else.

The concept of having you're afterlife taken away is such a unique and horrifying concept that I'm honestly disappointed that the dlc didn't expand or address it more. These kids most likely already suffered enough from whatever caused their deaths and no longer being able to live with their still living family and now they have to suffer again.

4. Hooked Doll

Everything that I just said prior also applies to Hooked Doll. Although she may have had it even worse. As the quote from her death screen goes into depth about what she went through.

"A 'wicked nasty' child was thrown into a pit.

No food, light or water was ever given to it.

Punishment was dealt, without mercy or hesitation.

As if justified by faith, or ownership from creation.

It was no righteous act, it was hellish, demon sent.

Eventually all will find out, in eternal torment."

It's pretty clear that this is mentioning the Hooked Doll directly. She was punished by being thrown down into the root cellar where she had hooks inserted into her as punishment for being a "wicked nasty" child. With the ones abusing her having no hesitation or guilt about it as the dolls are not "real people".

This traumatized and caused severe pain to the girl and turned her into a dangerous being as a result. The fact that "wicked nasty" is in quotation marks in the original quote implies that she wasn't all that bad as the GL Labs workers thought. She was abused and traumatized for some petty shit most likely. Making it all the more worse. Just horrible.

3. The Hanged Man

This poor guy. He was originally a regular patient at Karamari Hospital and from what we learn from one of Dr. Hamada's notes, he suffered from depression. Something that became worse when he learned about his terminal disease and how he was destined to die.

Things would only become worse once Ghost Cow popped up in the hospital and started possessing the doctors and nurses. The man's antidepressants would be cancelled and he would later be given doses of hallucinogenics which worsened his depression even more and made him become constantly paranoid.

At some point he would end up in the secret laboratory where he most likely went through more pain and torment, through experimentation, before finally committing suicide. That wouldn't end his hell however. Not one bit.

Being the awful hellspawn he is, Ghost Cow did something petty. He just... didn't allow the man to die.

As implied by these two hidden quotes, not only is the man forced to be kept alive by Ghost Cow, but he's fully aware that he's being controlled too. Unfortunately being unable to do anything about it.

The quotes shown above even seem to suggest that the man takes part of self harm or self cannibalism; since Ghost Cow enjoys and feeds off the self inflicted pain and torture the man is doing to himself. Getting a kick out of the man not being able to die despite their attempts at doing so.

This makes the encounter you have with him in the secret laboratory all the more sadder. Like the other monsters, he's not even in control of his own actions. He most likely wouldn't have harmed the player at all if it weren't for Ghost Cow puppeteering him.

The Hanged Man tells the story of a guy who was already having it pretty horrible in life. He was going to die soon thanks to his disease after all. Although it doesn't exactly make things better, he at the very least would be able to achieve peace in death. That and maybe right before his death he would have those he cares dearly about surrounding and comforting him. People that he would never forget even after being trapped infinite loop of suffering. His family.

But he couldn't even have that. He couldn't even enjoy an eternal sleep. He couldn't catch a break. Instead he would be tormented and toyed with. Despite his desperate attempt at suicide, Ghost Cow just brought him back, so he could played around with over and over again. In eternal suffering. If that doesn't sound like a horrifying and depressing living hell, then I don't know what does.

The Hanged Man and the kids mentioned prior are very close to each other in terms of how tragic they are and could easily swap places depending on how you look at it. The Hanged Man gets put just slightly higher than them for me because at least the kids don't have the deal with a demonic entity controlling them, leading to uncontrollable self harm, all while being unable to end the agonizing pain.

2. Baby Face

One of the most bizarre creatures in the game. Yet at the same time one of the most tragic.

Doesn't seem like there's much to talk about on the surface, but there is a very fucked up realization you'll have when picking up one single but major clue. "Old Experiments" is the theme that plays in the secret laboratory in Karamari Hospital. It seems to be more or less associated with Baby Face specifically; as this theme is heard in its Endless Mode chase in the OG version of SJSM.

The title of the theme explains everything you need to know. Baby Face was once an infant who was horrifically experimented on by Ghost Cow. Even if we don't know what experiments the infant went through, let alone how the end of those experiments resulted in the creation of that floating head in a cube thing; we do know that it most likely wasn't pretty or quick.

This is Ghost Cow we're talking about. The same monster who possessed staff and made them kill their patients, tortured a victim of depression, and did all of that with a grin on his face.

An infant. Not even a child. A literal infant who possibly couldn't even walk or talk ended up in the hands of that thing. The thought of it alone and what Ghost Cow could have did in those experiments is incredibly disturbing.

Yet it's still alive as seen ingame... presumably. Rotting down in a basement. Crying and wailing, most likely in pain and misery, to parents that it will never be able to hold it ever again.

1. Taker

TW: Mentions and descriptions of murder, torture, and rape. This is real life stuff we're going to be talking about here and what happened all those years ago was beyond awful. Just a heads up. Similar to how nobody was surprised at seeing Ghost Cow at the bottom of the list, I'm sure nobody is surprised that Taker is at the very top of this list. For some very good reasons.

Through an easter egg, the game pretty much tells you exactly what Taker's deal is.

Unit 731, directed by Shirō Ishii, and where the most horrific, awful, and downright disgusting war crimes you could imagine were committed during WW2. Unit 731 and the other unit locations associated with it have committed all of, but not limited to, the listed atrocities such as...

Use of biological and chemical warfare. Such as the use of rats and fleas infected with diseases which then were spread over Chinese cities (and they were even planning to attack the west coast of the United States with this warfare). Killing thousands. Contaminated food would be developed and used as well.

Victims ranging from the usual man and woman, to literal children, babies, and pregnant woman, were all subjected to the confined walls and cells of Unit 731 and the experiments within it. Where they either faced death or were in a great amount of pain and misery afterwards. Some children in question even grew up and spent most of their lives inside Unit 731, infected with diseases. And when they did die and had no use anymore? Their corpses were incinerated.

Speaking of those experiments, they included things like dangerous or lethal injections, dehydration, starvation, the draining of blood, standard and biological weapons testing, pressure chambers, gas chambers, crushing, burning, electrocution, injection of animal blood or seawater, spinning until death, organ harvesting, removal and reattachment of limbs, and vivisection.

Whenever victims were vivisected, they were not under any anesthetic. So when they were cut open? They felt every bit of it.

Frostbite experiments where victims were taken outside in cold weather and had their limbs frozen from being dipped in water. Ice was chipped away afterwards so the area could be further studied. Sometimes victims would just be thrown out naked in the cold until they died.

Forcing victims into having sex with each other so diseases could be transmitted. Said victims were later vivisected after infection.

Rape was common to force female victims to become pregnant. Children of these rape victims were presumably killed after birth or aborted. Once again to test how diseases like syphilis worked. Even then, rape would usually be committed for no real purpose by the staff other than being bored and having time to kill.

After WW2 ended, the "people" behind these experiments tried to cover their tracks by getting rid of all of their victims and any other evidence. These prisoners were killed either through injection, poisoned food, gas, guns, or being given the option of suicide. Thus there were no survivors and around 14,000 people were killed. Most likely a bit more if we take account of the other unit facilities.

Their prisoners were completely dehumanized. Often being referred to as "logs" and even the facilities they were trapped in were called "log cabins". Originating from a morbid joke among staff due to the cover up story for Unit 731 being a regular lumber mill. Doesn't help that they were also referred to as nothing more than "monkeys" in some of the journals of the "researchers" there.

Even the staff working at these facilities weren't safe. Sometimes they would get sick with the diseases they were trying to experiment with. When that happened? It was off to the operating table where they would be cut open, with no anesthetic, and would experience excruciating pain before dying just like everyone else. The people working in these facilities truly were uncaring, sadistic, and downright demonic, even to their coworkers.

Completely nightmare fuel inducing shit, as you can see. This gives a lot of tragic depth to Taker.

Firstly, the fact that Taker was once a regular human being who even had to go through that horrific shit at all. Being locked in a small cell, being dehumanized, hearing the screams of others, being deprived of food and water, most likely going through severe depression, experiencing agonizing pain before dying through experimentation, ect. Only to become the odd clay being that he currently is now afterwards. Now far removed from being human anymore.

Secondly, the fact that Taker wouldn't even be able to have some peace and quiet after he escaped from Unit 731. He had ran all the to Russia and was "hiding", as CAT-DOS puts it, inside an abandoned farmhouse. Presumably, he was hiding himself away from the world and wanted to be left completely alone. Most likely just wanting to have some kind of peace after all the trauma he experienced. But he couldn't even have that thanks to GL Labs. The most awful thing about his capture from GL Labs was that he was basically going through the same thing again. He had been taken from what he most likely viewed as his home, again. He was put into a science facility where he had little freedom and was under the control of the scientists working there, again. And he would be killed (at least temporarily) when he no longer had any use to the ones trying to control him, again.

Even if GL Labs isn't as disgustingly atrocious as Unit 731, it still is pretty fucking bad (remember the dolls?). One could only imagine the amount of PTSD or burning rage Taker felt once he realized he had ended up in the same position twice.

This is most likely why Taker was very hard to contain for GL Labs to the point where they temporarily killed him altogether. He really didn't want to be there and made multiple attempts at escape.

This brings me to my final point about Taker. What is his motive exactly? Well, he just wants to be human again. Or at least something close to one. He stalks the player the moment they go through the first door. Waiting for the moment where he can "take" them. He wants to "take the dead to take the dead...", as in he wants to take dead bodies so he can take more dead bodies. The final result being having his human body and powers back. So that way he can escape the mansion for good.

At the end of the game, Taker isn't able to succeed in his plan of taking the player, but he does find enough mass from corpses that we can see him absorbing before the start of his boss fight. He can finally try to make his escape, once he deals with and finishes off the pest in front of him.

He unfortunately never achieves such a thing though. Dying in all of the endings. At the very least, the good ending of the Dollhouse DLC implies that he can finally rest in peace. Still, everything I have stated prior about Taker is heartbreaking.

With that wrapped up, I do want to mention 3 more things about Unit 731. Part because I just think they're interesting and part because I think they add all the more to the tragedy behind Taker

1. Unit 731 was ultimately pointless

Whenever Unit 731 is brought up, some people like to point out that "yeah everything that went down there was horrible, but the science we gained is very important!" This is not true.

Frostbite or the "humans are made up of 60-70% water" thing is brought up for example, but it's generally agreed that a lot of the "science" and "research" done by Unit 731 was useless and unprofessional. The unit simply lacked adequate scientific and engineering foundations.

This most likely has to do with Unit 731 focusing mostly on bioweapons and chemical research that they could use for warfare than any real "science". Though it also has to do with a lot of the "research" at Unit 731 being done out of curiosity/sadism. A professor who watched footage of the experiments done at Unit 731 noted that "What medical purpose was served by performing and studying beheadings? None at all. That was just playing around. Professional people, too, like to play."

Was there maybe some findings from Unit 731 that were useful? Yes, but the large majority of it was either useless or could have been found out through more ethical means. Even the humans being made up of a specific percentage of water thing that people point to as being something that Unit 731 specifically discovered, has conflicting sources with how we found that out if you just do one simple Google search and some scrolling.

No matter how much you try to sugarcoat it, Unit 731 was just torture for the sake of torture. Nothing more. Those people died for nothing.

2. The war criminals behind these experiments were let go and didn't suffer any consequences

"Surely these researchers suffered some kind of punishment for what they did right?" Is what most would think upon hearing about Unit 731 at first. It seemed like that was going to be the case at first, but nope. The demented pricks were granted immunity by the government of the United States. Why? Because they wanted their oh so useful research of course!

These guys, including Shirō Ishii who was behind the whole thing, then went on to live pretty regular lives. Some however continued to perform unethical and atrocious human experiments, even receiving some secret funding from the U.S. government. A whole entire pound of salt dumped on the wide open wound there.

3. Japan's government has yet to apologize for or acknowledge Unit 731

Unit 731 and all of the other war crimes from Imperial Japan were, and still are, being treated as if they don't exist. Even when they are acknowledged in history books for example, they are very sugar coated and many details are left out.

It wasn't until 2002 when one of Japan's district courts acknowledged that, yes, Japan has done some very bad stuff in terms of Unit 731 and biological warfare. Since then though? Barely anything, if not, straight up nothing.

This is extremely bad for a simple reason. Why do history classes exist and why are they so important? So we don't repeat past mistakes and learn from those before our time who were much more flawed. What happens when history classes don't acknowledge an important part of history, or worse, sugarcoat or give misinformation about it? Mistakes are going to be repeated, people won't learn, and this will most likely create a snowball effect that will just get worse as time goes on.

The citizens of Japan either know very little or nothing at all about all of the horrible things Imperial Japan did during WW2. Instead of learning about these things and how they could not repeat them in the future; Japan's Government instead wants to put the idea of their country being heroic or being an unfortunate victim of WW2 (the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki for example) into the head of their citizens. No fault of the citizens of course, but it is absurd.

Japan wants to forget about its history and make others in the process also forget about it. The sad part? It's working. Not just with their citizens, but in general. If you go up to the average joe schmoe and ask them about Nazi Germany or the Holocaust they'll most likely go "Oh yeah! I know about them!". Ask them about Imperial Japan or Unit 731 however and you'll most likely be met with silent confusion.

It's interesting yet confusing. You would think Imperial Japan would talked about just as much as Nazi Germany or the Soviet Union when being used as an example of evil and what not to do, yet it seems like it's barely talked about. Even stranger how Japan is often idolized nowadays (to weird degrees) compared to Germany or Russia.

Everything about this is just fucked up, disgusting, and honestly frustrating. Past, present, future, it doesn't matter. It's just horrible.

Apologies for all the history talk, but I really wanted to drive in the point and make it clear on why Taker is at the very top of this list. Unlike all the specimens listed prior, who have tragic backstories, but said backstories are fictional, Taker's origins are based on real events. Real and awful events that to this day have an effect on this world.

Taker shows us how truly horrifying the world we live in can be. Sure, we don't live in a world with ghosts, strange monsters, or aliens looking to terrorize us; but we do live in a world with murderers, psychos, weirdos, and all the other deranged and creepy people you can think of that have some oddities going on in their mind.

Where are all the monsters in our world? They're all around you.

Conclusion

So um... yeah this took awhile lmao

I mean, I knew this would take awhile but damn.

I'm glad that I took my time with this though. This whole project was tiring at times but was still very fun! I'm glad with how this turned out. For now, I'm pretty satisfied with this ranking/tier list.

As for closing thoughts? Well, I will say this. A question that popped into my head while writing out all of this was "Y'know... what makes the specimens so likeable or unique compared to some other antagonists in horror media?". I'm sure many people will have many different answers to that question. For me personally, now that I'm done with this, I would say a factor that makes them likeable and interesting is this.

Often times in horror media the monster/monsters either have nothing explained about them or have a lot explanations and depth to them. If executed right, either option can be great and lead to interesting results. There's something that feels a bit different about the specimens though. They hit this middle ground that feels just right for me and makes them unique in my eyes.

Some information is given about the majority of the specimens in the form of CAT-DOS or notes, but the information given is just the right amount. You may know a few things about a certain specimen that make them stand out to you, but if you dig deeper and analyze the little details, you will come out looking at the specimen a bit differently. You can pinpoint and theorize certain things like what their motives are or why they behave in a certain way. Sometimes, you will view something about that specimen in a different way compared to others.

This is what make theorizing and analyzing these characters (and honestly just this game in general) so fun. Kira gave us some stuff that are made out to be pretty clear, but also some stuff that can be analyzed further or are interpretive by design. The universe of SJSM is like a sandbox. A good chunk of headcanons or theories can be made within it, but the sandbox isn't too big or deep to the point where it feels overwhelming or not fun like FNaF for example.

The specimens are interesting in that the game gives them character without explicitly giving them character... if that makes sense. It's this perfect middle ground between not knowing too much but not knowing too little either.

I don't know. I may just be yapping at this point lol. But I think it's interesting.

Anyways, thank you for reading! For my followers, I have a very small but important announcement that I'll be posting tomorrow, so stay on the lookout for that. Have a snazzy day peeps!

#Sharky Theorizing #discussion #character analysis #ranking #shojs #sjsm #spookys house of jumpscares #spooky's house of jumpscares #spookys jumpscare mansion #spooky's jumpscare mansion

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hufflegruff · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: A Knowing Look

Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Summary: In which Sebastian is whipped and literally everyone can see from a mile away that this is more than friendship.

“Is that… a mistletoe?” “It… must be Anne’s doing.” Was all Sebastian could say, rather lamely. He was ready to laugh it off. Tell her that it was just a silly little old thing. But to his surprise, she replied almost matter-of-factly: “… Supposedly if we don’t kiss, we’d be doomed to 100 years of misfortune.” Almost cautiously, he replied, “We wouldn’t want that.” “Not at all,” She said as she nodded.

Chapter 4: Anne

Winter fell upon Feldcroft. Snow descended upon the Sallows’ home in soft billowy mounds.

Sebastian had never really understood the appeal of Christmas. It was always too cold, too dark and too stifling to just stay at home. Under Solomon’s roof, he never let himself feel too comfortable. Not even the guise of mulled cider, plum pudding and ornately decorated pine trees could make him put his guard down. He much preferred the freedom of Hogwarts endless hallways. If not for Anne - well, he frankly wouldn’t have bothered to make the trip over. There was little joy to reap or use to gain from seeing Solomon’s irritable face.

But despite Solomon’s numerous shortcomings, he allowed him to invite both of his best friends over for Christmas. And for that, he was grateful.

Glancing over to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but soften and break into a smile at the sight. Under the glow of the dim candlelight, Ominis and Anne were chatting merrily.

Ominis normally looked so stoic, like an old man that held the entire weight of the wizarding world in the crease of his brow. That was the blight of the Gaunt family name. But as he sat listening to Anne, who was animatedly retelling one of her classic tales of misadventure, his expression was as light as a feather. Even with his perfectly pressed shirt and impeccably neat cardigan, it was such a relief to see that he could look like an ordinary teenage boy.

And Anne… Well, Anne had her good days and bad days. Thankfully, today was one of her better ones. She’d been particularly energetic as of late. Despite Sebastian’s protests, she went out of her way to decorate the cottage with wreaths, tinsel and candles galore. Insisting that guests should not be subjected to Christmas in a house so bare.

He hadn’t seen either of them look so content in a while. Not since they were just three kids scheming mischief in the Undercroft. Not since they’ve become three weary people weathered by fate’s hand.

The normalcy of it all gave him newfound hope. One that felt different from the kind of hope had him hunting ancient relics, ravaging the restricted section, and burning dark wizards ever since Anne got hurt.

This one was softer. Much quieter and warmer.

Just for today, he would graciously allow himself not to worry. Not of curses or cures or hidden scriptoriums. Just Christmas. Just family and friends.

Anne’s voice broke him out of reverie, “Sebastian! What are you daydreaming about? Come here!” She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand.

“Probably best not to know,” Ominis said, “likely something despicable or unlawful.”

“Funny.” Sebastian said dryly, as he made his way over to them, “Utterly hilarious.”

“I am rather, aren’t I?” Ominis replied cheekily.

“If slander is your particular brand of humour.”

“Forget presents,” Ominis’ voice was laced with sarcasm, “Your endless wit is the greatest gift you could ever afford me.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. The mouth on this one.

Sebastian looked around the room and noticed that there was one person sorely missing. Their absurdly lovely (it’s all still very complicated) friend. After the whole Andrew Larson ordeal, he conceded that it was possible that this whole friendship thing… could potentially be more than a friendship thing.

It was a crush - a flight of fancy. On someone who just happened to be a beautiful, smart and wickedly talented friend.

That was the only way that Sebastian could rationalise it. Crushes were perfectly normal and frivolously fleeting. Calling her a softness, or a fancy or even the object of his affection was all still manageable. It was better than the alternative. Because if he were to start calling it anything more than that…

Well, that could be perilous.

Love had consequences, and Sebastian wasn’t sure if he was ready to face them.

The girl wonder had also been staying with them in Feldcroft these past two days. Sebastian had only been back at Feldcroft for two days and Anne had already been making terribly sly remarks his way. How could she have known? Had she and Ominis been exchanging letters behind his back?

He supposed that practically half of Hogwarts had already accused him of being infatuated with the girl wonder. But in fairness, the prying eyes of the student body had been privy of his relationship with her for the better half of two years. It made him wonder if he was being so obvious that perhaps even Solomon could sense it too.

That would be mortifying.

And honestly, after the emotional whirlwind he’d already been on — Sebastian didn’t know how it could get any worse.

He cleared his throat, “Anyways, where’s the girl wonder gone to now?”

Anne shot him a mischievous look that Sebastian knew meant trouble. It was too devilish and deliberate to ignore, and it felt like Anne could see right through him. What was she plotting? Sebastian raised a curious eyebrow in response.

Anne replied with a shrug, “She’s just gone to the room to grab something.”

And as if it had been planned meticulously ahead of time — the door creaked open and the sound of her footsteps approached.

He turned around and almost made an ungodly sound at the sight. A wrangled, pained sound that he was frankly quite embarrassed to acknowledge. Because this — whatever this was — was something he hadn’t been expecting.

“Is that my sweater?” Sebastian swallowed thickly.

The girl walked out of the bed chambers in an old green knit sweater with a small embroidered flower on the left corner that looked all too familiar. There was nothing spectacular about it, but Sebastian knew without a sliver of doubt that it was his sweater that hung a little too loosely on her shoulders. Because as most nine year old boys did with their clothes, he had bought it dismissively when he was in Diagon Alley, and wore it to death in his youth. It had been chucked carelessly across fields, caves, bodies of water all across Feldcroft. It was tattered, frayed and looked worse for wear from his haphazard use.

So how in Salazar’s name did it manage to look so damn good on her?

There was nothing precious about it.

But it was his. And she was wearing it.

Sebastian was of two minds about it all. He couldn’t quite decide it himself — was this a gift or divine punishment from the Gods? Where had she even found the old blasted thing and was she actively trying to kill him? The niggling urge to touch her was stronger than he had ever felt before. His self-restraint was melting with every second longer his eyes lingered on her. The only thing that was holding him back from holding on to her (and never letting go) was the ridicule he’d most definitely receive from Ominis and Anne.

To his dismay, to the deep sickly pit in the bottom of his stomach — this was very likely something that would be permanently etched into his mind. There was something primal inside the diabolical crevices of his brain that just couldn’t unsee it. Some unhinged line of thinking that his brain managed to conjure up to justify it all. That if she looked this perfectly right in his clothes, he could believe that there was a universe in which she could be his.

That if people could be owned (he knew they couldn’t) — she would be rightfully his.

“Oh, I figured you wouldn't mind,” Anne said, “She was feeling a little chilly, so I gave her one of your old sweaters. You hardly wear it now anyways.”

Almost nervously, the girl wonder gave a small twirl, “Well, it doesn’t look silly on me does it?”

Silly? Sebastian thought. It was a little silly.

It was silly that the sight of her in his old, worn and beaten sweater that he’d worn to death, made his heart scream out of his chest. How was it possible that she could even make scraps of wool look so bewitching?

It was as if being the wielder of a rare form of ancient magic hadn’t sufficed her hunger for power. It was as if she went out of her way to contrive her very own beguiling brand of magic that would render him a total fucking dunce. How else could Sebastian explain the prickling in his fingertips to reach out to her? Or the compulsion in his chest to bury his face in the crook of her neck? And that stupid sweater must’ve smelled like him. Years and years of him. By that logic — because she was wearing it — that must mean she now smelled like him too.

And the thought of that was almost too thrilling for his chest to handle.

Merlin. All this overthinking was a testament to the steely grip this witch had on his heart.

Despite his inner turmoil, he just about managed to choke out a response.

“Not at all. It suits you.”

It more than suited her. In fact if she never wanted to take it off — he’d gladly allow it.

Ominis gave him a pointed look. Anne smiled knowingly. Sebastian wanted to hide. He felt as if his innermost feelings were being paraded on display. Like his internal organs and his blathering heart had been sprawled across the dinner table for everyone to witness. The only person that didn’t seem amused or even remotely aware of his pining was her. She looked at him so sincerely that it was almost distressing. Delightfully doe-eyed, she smiled brightly at his compliment.

It was so fucking endearing that he had to look away. Any longer and would probably combust on the spot into a fan of pitiful flames. Or collapse from this corny infatuation-induced arrhythmia his heart was suffering from. So he turned to look at Anne scathingly instead.

“But thanks for asking before you raided my closet, Anne.” Sebastian said chidingly.

Anne smiled mysteriously, ignoring his accusatory tone all together.

“I was being a courteous host is all.” She said innocently.

Sometimes Sebastian forgot how conniving his sister could truly be. He couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed or proud of her shenanigans.

The girl wonder, sensing something off in Sebastian’s tone, interjected, “Anne was just trying to help. But I can put on something else if you’d prefer—”

“No.” Sebastian said firmly, “You don’t have to. I don’t mind.”

From afar, he heard Ominis snicker.

Ominis was likely calling Sebastian all sorts of embarrassingly belittling names in his head. But that seemed unfair. How was Sebastian supposed to tell her that he would in fact mind it very, very much if she took off his sweater — without sounding like an utter fool?

“Thank you.” She said with a smile and his heart was beside itself.

In fairness, he supposed that Ominis had been right about one thing.

Sebastian was a fucking sap.

“I can’t help but picture a young, petulant baby-faced Sebastian running around the house causing all sorts of mayhem in this sweater,” she said full of mirth as she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging the sweater in glee. Never had he been jealous of a sweater before. That was new.

“Come off it,” Sebastian retorted, “I’ll have you know I was never a petulant child.”

Ominis piped, “Never? That’s odd. You’re still perfectly petulant to me.”

“Okay someone put Ominis on a time out please.” Sebastian said grouchily.

The girl wonder laughed. And like a shot of healing draught down his throat, the sound of it washed away the irritation in the nooks of his taut body.

As she linked arms with Ominis, she said “Come Ominis. I’ll save you from Sebastian’s wrath.”

They retreated into the kitchen, getting plates to help Solomon set up the tables for dinner. With burning eyes, Sebastian watched as they walked away, feeling listless tied to the ground that he stood on. Anne stayed firmly beside him, as if she’d been waiting for this moment to corner him all evening.

“I saw that.” Anne whispered.

His heart leaped, “Pray tell, sister, exactly what you saw?”

“Oh,” she said coyly, “Just the terribly soppy looks you were giving our friend.”

“Oh.” Sebastian said, almost sounding resigned.

Anne raised an eyebrow, “That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, frankly you’re not the first person to say that to me. So I can’t really give you much points for originality,” He replied dryly, belligerent thinking about the long list of friends (and frenemies in Leander’s case) who had already informed him of his affections towards her.

“Hmm, yes. Ominis did mention something about that,”Anne said.

So Sebastian had been right. They had been exchanging letters. He supposed that there wasn’t much point in denying it anymore. While it was true that he could admit to himself that he cared for her deeply, he hadn’t confirmed it verbally with anyone else. Not even Ominis.

But maybe it would be cathartic for him to just… say it out loud. To hell with it all.

Maybe this would be a good time to start.

“I guess there’s not much to contest when it’s the truth.” Sebastian tried to say as casually as he could, despite the palpable weight of what he was so blatantly saying.

Almost gleefully, Anne shrieked, grabbed onto his shoulders and shook him manically, “That’s so very sickeningly endearing for you to say. Who are you and what have you done to my terribly cynical brother?”

He groaned “I don’t know. It’s disgusting isn’t it?”

“Are you in love with her?” Anne squealed as she asked excitedly, ignoring Sebastian’s state of emotional turmoil entirely.

Love? He had wanted to yell. Or throw up. He’d been trying his damn hardest to avoid the word, and now Anne had just thrown it into his face. It had already taken so much out of him just for Sebastian to concede that this could possibly be more than friendship; that this was a romantic affliction. But love? That was a whole other degree and department of troublesome feelings. Love was severe. Love was drastic. Love was a steep curve for him to climb.

Also had Anne forgotten that she was sitting literally right there? In the next room? That she could easily overhear?

With a slight hiss, Sebastian motioned for her to pipe down, “Be a little more discreet would you? Also that’s a little strong. I wouldn’t quite call it… that.”

“Well, then what would you call it?” Anne asked inquisitively.

What was it? That was the ever-complicated question, wasn’t it?

“A crush.” He said simply.

“A crush?” Anne said with a laugh of disbelief, “No way. That brief … whatever you had on Violet McDowell in 2nd year, that was a crush—”

“—God, don’t remind me—” Sebastian said with a grimace at the embarrassing flashback.

But Anne paid no mind as she continued.

“— But this? The way you look at her. The way you speak of her — No matter which way you put it, I don’t think there’s anything else you can call it.”

Sebastian almost took offence at that. Because there had to be something he could call it that didn’t feel so treacherous. That didn’t make him feel like so suffocatingly he’d been backed into a tight corner.

“It’s… complicated.” He replied lamely.

“Sebastian it’s not like you’re trying to decipher an ancient form of magic,” Anne said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, “It’s just a feeling. It just is or it isn’t. Boys truly are hopeless.”

Sebastian resented that.

“I resent that. It’s not that simple. I’m figuring things out.”

What was the rush anyway? To figure all this out? Love… or whatever this was, wasn’t something to take lightly. He never imagined that Anne would’ve been so frivolous with the word. If anything, he thought that she’d be telling him to tread carefully, not throw caution into the fucking wind. Wasn’t it decidedly worse to say such things so carelessly? To say something that he didn’t mean?

And if Sebastian was sure of anything, he knew that the girl wonder didn’t deserve anything less than the truth.

“Well you might want to figure things out a tad faster.” Anne said as if to warn him.

And that instantly set off a spiel of alarm bells in his cluttered mind.

“Why? Did she say something to you?” Sebastian said almost in a panic.

“I mean, look at you, Seb. You’re getting frazzled from speculation alone!” Anne exclaimed, as if he’d just proved her point “No, she hasn’t said anything to me. But do you really want to leave it long enough and risk her being whisked away by someone else?”

Sebastian had recently learned that he absolutely detested that idea.

He learned that he would sooner claw his ears deaf than ever have to endure her being taken away by anybody else.

Not that he had a right to be so dramatic about it, of course. Because people couldn’t be claimed – even if he wished dearly that they could be so. Because she was her own capable witch that had her own fair share of suitors vying for her affection, and Sebastian was (at least at the moment) too cowardly to do anything about it. Because even after all the mental mountains he’d already scaled to admit how fucking enamoured he was by her… he still couldn’t bear say the word love alongside her name.

But still. Beyond any rational reason he hated the thought of her being with anyone else with an infuriating passion.

“No.” He admitted.

And maybe that meant Anne was right.

He had to get his shit together.

“Then, dear brother of mine — a word of advice. And I’m saying this because I love you a stupid amount,” Anne said with a firm pat on his shoulder, “Girls don’t wait forever.”

Dinner had been lovely. They’d been fed all the works; from roast ham to mince pies to Christmas pudding. Sebastian had been surprised that Solomon had brought out all the bells and whistles for them. He couldn’t remember the last time that they’d had a meal so lavish in their humble abode. It must’ve been years. But he gathered that it very likely had to do with their special guests.

Since Solomon and Anne had done the majority of the heavy lifting with cooking dinner for them, he felt that it would only be fair that he should be the one to endure the surly task of doing the dishes. Which had left Anne gaping in total shock because she knew how fervently Sebastian hated doing the dishes.

“Okay, now you’re truly scaring me. Are you an imposter? Or an impeccably crafted clone?” Anne had teasingly said.

But to his delight (or his horror) the girl wonder had offered to help him.

So that was how Sebastian found himself in the dim kitchen candlelight, standing so closely to the girl that had been plaguing his every thought for the past few weeks. The girl that had been running amok in his tiny, addled brain. His shoulders brushed hers as they did the dishes in the sink. Like the sizzle of fire on an oiled pan or a gulp of caffeine, every little bump made him feel jittery. And there just was something so deeply domestic about this that filled his head with giddiness.

The smell of soap and sea sponges. The crackle of the fireplace. The muffled chatter from the living room. Her in his sweater. Her sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her gloved hands. Her furrowed brow. Her smooth hair swept back in a clip.

Her in his home.

As she washed and wiped the dishes, she sang a pretty hum from her lips. It sounded folksy and merry and absurdly lovely in the lilt of her voice — but he didn’t recognise it. He deduced that it was likely one of those muggle tunes she loved so dearly. And he made a mental note to ask her about it when he was less distressed.

It all suddenly felt very dangerous. Largely because of how easily Sebastian could see himself accepting this as a permanent fixture in his life. How easily he could get used to all of this. And he wouldn’t need to be convinced by any means or measure. In fact he’d grovel, pray, beg whatever god or infallible wizard he needed to make this regular occurrence. A taste of this homeliness was enough for him to fold like a cheap suit.

It was appalling at how a tiny taste of mundanity was enough to devoid him of his wit.

“So…” she began slyly, “Anne told me an interesting story about you and the Neighbour’s garden.”

He felt himself go stiff, because that cloying tone of her voice did not sound good at all. What on Earth did Anne think that she was doing? God what on Earth did he think he was doing?

“Something about how you ran stark naked around your neighbour’s garden after a little bender down at the pub? ” She said almost all too innocently. He was shocked at how she managed to say such wicked things with such innocuousness.

He groaned in despair. That was not a story that he had ever wanted her to hear.

“Merlin. You need to stay away from Anne.” Sebastian said brusquely.

“I thought you wanted us to get along?” She said coyly.

His heart jumped. He swore that he could hear a hint of something wicked in the underbelly of her voice. Was she flirting? Because this certainly sounded like flirting.

And if the shivers that ran down the back of his spine was any indication, it sure fucking felt like flirting too.

“Yes, but not at my expense, obviously.” Sebastian said flatly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Fun? Merlin this girl would be the death of him. It was supposed to be Sebastian who flustered her; who said cavalier things that made her blush feverishly and rendered her speechless. It had always worked with the village girls down the stream, or the barmaids in Hogsmeade. But with her — the one girl where it truly mattered — it had never been the case.

Here she was rendering him a total dunce, and all it took was a coy smile. All this time, Sebastian had thought that she’d been doing it unintentionally. But maybe she’d been doing it more deliberately than she’d let on. And if that was the case…

He wouldn’t survive it.

“You’re becoming more despicable with every passing day.” He retorted wittily, with just enough mirth to appear charming, but not too much as to leave him feeling exposed.

“I did learn from the best.” She replied pointedly and shrewdly.

Admittedly, he felt his chest swell with pride at the idea that she’d learnt it from him.

But before he had the chance to retort, she caught him off guard with a dose of sincerity.

“Thank you for letting me come over this Christmas.” She said quietly, to a backdrop of the running water tap and the clinking of ceramic plates.

She was thanking him so earnestly. And Sebastian wished he could take credit for it. Pretend that he was totally selfless in inviting her into his home — but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be wrong.

The girl wonder had made it known to him early in the year that she had planned to stay in the castle over Christmas. And when she had first mentioned it several months ago, Sebastian had felt restless — but at the time, he hadn’t known why.

After months of emotional whiplash, it was safe to say that he now had a clearer idea.

“Couldn’t let you stay alone in the castle, now could I?” Sebastian said.

“I mean you could’ve.” She joked.

He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. But how else was Sebastian meant to explain that without confessing some degree of his despairing devotion to her? How was he to explain to her that actually, she was doing him this favour? By being here, with him, in the dim corner of his childhood kitchen light. How else was he to explain to her that if she hadn’t, even if she stayed by herself in the hallowed halls of the castle, he’d still be the lonelier one between them?

He couldn’t. So he needed to keep it brief.

“No,” he said surprisingly sincerely, “I really couldn’t.”

And all of a sudden, the weightless atmosphere that once pervaded the room was now gone. The muffled voices from the living room became soft. Even the soreness in his fingers from all the dish-washing dulled. What was left was only the sincerity in his voice now. He hadn’t intended to sound so… honest, but he guessed that she naturally brought it out of him.

He could only hope that he hadn’t… totally freaked her out.

He turned to look at her, to say something either aloof or wildly charming — but he soon realised that it was a grave mistake. Because suddenly, he was looking right at her, and she was looking right at him. And with one measly look, Sebastian’s chest felt tighter and the air felt thinner.

(This was happening so often, really — you’d think that he would’ve been more accustomed to it all by now.)

Her eyes flicked up to something above them that had caught her attention; but Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to look up — or care in all honesty. Too enraptured by the magnetic pull of her eyes.

But the next words she uttered out of her lips, he couldn’t have ever ignored:

“Is that… a mistletoe?”

Sebastian almost wanted to laugh. Because surely, he had to have misheard.

Because a fucking mistletoe?

But alas, magically above them, a mistletoe sat. In all its almost mocking, prickly glory, a mistletoe was perched on the edge of the hanging kerosene kitchen lamp. All of a sudden, blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out the rest of the room. All that he could hear was the thunderous pounding thump of his relentless heartbeat banging against his eardrums.

When Sebastian realised that he hadn’t spoken for a while, he racked his tiny anxious brain for something meaningful, charming, or at least coherent.

“It… must be Anne’s doing.” Was all Sebastian could say, rather lamely.

Was this Anne’s idea of helping him move along? To make it all go a little faster? Because if that were true, this was the most insane plan he’d ever heard of. And Sebastian was normally the mastermind behind the most ludicrous and most asinine of plans — so trust that he could spot one a mile away.

If he hadn’t loved his sister so dearly, he would’ve banished her out to the neighbour’s cottage for the rest of the night for all the emotional strife she was causing him! If he were to die young from all the heart palpitations this meddling was sure to give him — he’d vow to haunt her endlessly for eternity.

Because coercing the girl that he… had very strong feelings for… into kissing him would not bode well on his conscience. Or his ego. Or his delicately constructed sense of self-worth. In fact it would rather bruise him if she were to kiss him out of some sort of misplaced obligation.

No matter how heavenly he knew it would probably feel.

Sebastian could feel himself literally teetering on the brink of perilous precipice; between what he could do next… but also what he should most definitely not do next.

This was all feeling too loud and too radical for him to bear. How did kissing her suddenly factor into this equation?

… But as if by wicked instinct, his gaze dropped down onto the curve of her lips — and he absolutely loathed himself for it.

Gods, wouldn’t it be nice to kiss her?

(Another one of those absurd, intrusive thoughts of his.)

He was ready to laugh it off. Tell her that it was just a silly little old thing. Some outdated conventions. They didn’t have to go through with it. In fact, they could spare themselves the embarrassment and never speak of this ever again if she willed it so.

To his surprise, she replied almost matter-of-factly:

“… Supposedly if we don’t kiss, we��d be doomed to 100 years of misfortune.”

Like a slow sinful poison, he felt his body go numb in shock. Like a match to a barren wick, he felt his mouth go dry. Had he heard right?

Was she implying what he thought she was implying?

Almost cautiously, he replied, “We wouldn’t want that.”

It was true, he wouldn’t want that. 100 years of misfortune wouldn’t do him any good in trying to court the girl before him.

“Not at all,” She said as she nodded.

So it was only logical that they had to kiss.

“100 Years is… a long time,” He rationalised.

He almost couldn’t believe the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“A lifetime long,” She agreed.

Forget what he was saying — why was she encouraging this?

“And I suppose it is tradition,” He justified.

“Right. Tradition.” She clarified.

When she’d put it like that, it seemed entirely sensible. Almost as if doing anything else would be totally irrational. Sebastian normally skewed towards irrationality, because what was life without a little bit of unreasonableness…

But if she was readily weaving this enticing thread of logic for him — he would obediently surrender to her pull.

Sebastian waited for the punchline. The cruel joke. For her to say she was, “just kidding, of course!”

But even after what felt like aeons of silence — it never came. He wondered if she could read him. If she knew that he was all unbridled nerves and anticipation in this lanky body of his. All he saw was her, looking straight at him. No distractions, just a firm sense of purpose. And he wondered what was behind her eyes. Was she nervous? Because he was fucking nervous.

Why didn’t she look nervous?

A lull fell over them, and it was as if they’d reach an impasse. As if it were a silent agreement between two precarious souls.

“So I guess-” He began.

“Right.”

He supposed that was confirmation enough. For him to press on. To take the next step.

But what was the next step? This didn’t come with a fucking manual. How was he to go about kissing the girl that had plagued his every waking thought now that she was all but offering it?

He supposed he just had to take it.

So he did.

He took a daring step forward, and he swore that he could see a slight tremor in her throat. It was tiny, almost imperceivable, but honest to god, it helped him breathe a little. Because it meant that maybe she wasn’t so unbothered by this treacherous proximity as she appeared to be.

When he looked at her closely and scrutinised every crinkle in her eye, he saw a sliver of something he hadn’t seen before. Something familiar. Like the flicker of a yearning and restlessness he saw so often in himself. In the rounds of her cheeks, he could make out the outline of a growing blush, betraying the effect his closeness had on her.

With every passing second he inched closer, Sebastian could feel something growing inside him. Breaking out in the pit of his stomach like turbulent waves. A feeling he knew would only be quelled if he managed to get his mouth onto hers. Until he knew what every inch of her lips tasted like.

Was he really about to do this?

Sebastian was still holding onto the dishes in the sink. But fuck the dishes. He didn’t have the time to put that shit down. He’d carry the weight of every stupid dish, cup or ceramic bowl if it meant that he’d be able to touch her.

“Merry Christmas Sebastian.” She whispered.

And what a lovely whisper it was.

Before her hands ever touched him, her voice did. It embraced him everywhere; his arms, down his spine, even in the unknown depths of his heart. He felt his chest melt a little with something warm and soft and so, so pleasant. In this moment, he allowed himself to believe it. Believe that maybe he could be in love with her. Maybe he was already knee-deep in it; buried thousands and thousands of feet below the weight of his burdensome feelings.

And that this love wouldn’t kill him. It wouldn’t hurt him. It wouldn’t be wrong or scary or restricting.

He could love her and still breathe.

She was so close. Just one more step and they’d meet.

Fuck his ego. Fuck his conscience. Fuck his brittle his self-worth. He would fucking kiss her like his entire measly existence depended on it.

It was just on the tip of his tongue. It was right there for the taking. It was—

“Hey, Dessert’s ready—”

— Ominis?

As quickly as heaven had opened its gates, it had also come crashing down like a train wreck.

Like a brutal punch to the gut, Sebastian was thrown back into a sobering reality. Ominis’s sharp voice had popped the fragile little bubble they’d temporarily created.

Wasn’t the universe just fucking cruel?

And as much as he loved his best friend, he had never ever hated him more. Of all the moments that he could’ve chosen to walk in on… this was what he decided on?

Silence hung in the air. The shadow of something that almost happened lingered like a half-spoken sonnet, begging to be finished. Sebastian searched for the right words, searched for clarity in the fog, searched for the will to string his thoughts together — but it all eluded him.

“...Did I interrupt something—”

“N-No!” “Nope.”

Her face was flushed crimson. His was probably no better.

Thank Merlin, Ominis was blind.

As if by magic, they were now a whole metre apart. Now that Sebastian had a taste of closeness, this distance starved him. It felt like a cruel, deprivation

A heavy silence settled between them, with each second stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Ominis hadn’t seen them, per se — but Sebastian had a feeling that he could sense that he had just ruined… something significant.

Love might not have killed him, but this painfully awkward silence would.

"Right... well. Solomon asked me to get you both," Ominis finally broke the silence, his tone tinged with clear discomfort.

The ambiance dissipated, the moment was gone. Replaced by the ordinary state of affairs they were forced to return to.

“We’ll—” Sebastian began to say with a slight croak, before clearing his throat, “We’ll be right there.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her as he rushed out to the living room, where normalcy awaited him.

There went his bloody chance.

“Ominis, my plan!” Anne said in a rushed whisper as she pulled the blonde boy into an alcove of the small Sallow residence.

He looked back at her guiltily, with only the slightest hint of a grumble, “Well you could’ve told me about the plan ahead of time…”

“We were so close!” Anne said

“I’m sorry…”

——

Notes

GOSH I apologise so deeply for how atrociously long this chapter took!!! It took me so long, even though I've literally had the outline for it from the very early stages of this fic!

But work did not kill me and I have a new chapter for yall <3

I made sure to sprinkle all the good tropes like, the classic wearing his sweater trope, the oh is that a mistletoe? trope, the almost kiss trope!!! AHHHH I hope you guys like it :)

My HC that the only person that can tame Ominis' outta pocket sass is Anne.

I'm so sorry if you guys have been waiting, and if you're still reading THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

Shoutout to the very very lovely, @wt-fxck @deliciouslyferal @sonicranger1 @spaceyaceface @eleanorstaghart @ithinkweallsing @somethingiswrongwithme @tlnyjoong @musicbecky @oliviajdjarin @intheshadowofthegame @weeb-shitss FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND THE TAGS!!!!

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #a knowing look #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow imagines #hogwarts legacy

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