#finally got a reasonable amount of work done so i'm allowed to start answering these again :D

[bitegore]

for the wip titles thing 1/3 (with thanks for your indulgence)

Orpheus motormaster

OKAY so this fic is sort of an experimental thing I keep reworking because I don't know what I want to do with it when it hits fairytale territory, but also I think it would be incredibly funny to slot Motormaster into a fairytale world where he has to deal with fairytale bullshit.

Readmore because this is long and also because, like, contents: quite a bit of dark nonsense about death

Presumably we all know who Orpheus is here, so I'm not going to bother to really detail anything about the original myth. I'm also going off the books very aggressively and cribbing a bunch of stuff from, like, the trials of Herakles and shit like that. I got a friend who did their degree in ancient history and literature who I fully intend to lean on for some of the more specific stuff but i'm not actually doing Greek Mythology so it's also probably going to take on a bit of the medieval Guy Wanders About Getting Into Situations vibe to it as well, since I like that quite a bit.

Also it was inspired quite heavily by The Unrepetant (song) by Steve Earle and also by Hadestown (play). I haven't decided how unhappy an ending I want yet, but there's not exactly going to be a happy one. We all know what happened to Euridyce.

The important details for the mythological backing are as such:

There is a pantheon, the way that there's a pantheon in most of these stories.

Primus is king of the "ordered world" pantheon and Unicron is king of the "chaos world" pantheon. In order to get from the normal world to the Underworld (as opposed to, like, traveling under the normal world by digging a hole) Unicron has to let you in. (Primus's domain is Cybertron; because this is G1-ish Transformers, we're on Earth. The general vast expanse of space is sort of a no-man's-land, but Unicron's seat of power is on Earth, so the Underworld is rather close to our cast at the moment).

Beyond this duology Unicron and Primus both have "champions", sort of like saints I guess? or minor deities? in the Thirteen Primes and the Thirteen Titans, who work in semi-harmony to keep the balance of nature even but who also occasionally fight or switch allegiances. Unicron has six Primes and seven Titans and Primus has seven Primes and six Titans. This is because I think it's fun to say that Megatronus was a champion of Unicron and that Prima was also a champion of Unicron before fucking off to Primus's side or something.

(Of the Primes- Primus currently has Prima, Optimus Prme, Alchemist Prime, Vector Prime, Micronus Prme, Onyx Prime, and Quintus Prime; Unicron has Megatronus Prime, Solus Prime, Liege Maximo, Amalgamous Prime, Nexus Prime, and Alpha Trion. I don't know thirteen titans off the top of my head so that'll have to come later.) (Optimus's Primehood is kind of a secret but like an open secret; he's sort of regarded like someone running around claiming to be a god would be. As in, common knowledge holds that he's making shit up until he starts refusing to stay dead and shit. He's a late addition to the roster and there to shake things up, because the game was getting stale since Unicron is fucking his job up.)

As always, Unicron is the "chaos-bringer"- the lord of chaos, bringer of chaos, who sure, eats planets, but he's not the "planet-killer", he's the chaos guy. So his job is chaos. Throw some shit into the mix and see what comes up. (Hence why he's got the Prime of creation and the Prime of shapeshifting and both Primes whose jobs are to be weird old men telling people to do things.) Except, oopsies, whoops, Unicron has been having a long and boring few millenia and he's sleepy tired and he has forgotten his job is to cause problems on purpose.

Primus is another force of nature, too; he can't do Unicron's job because he's the god of living order, of physics and crystal lattices. There's a reason Unicron generated organic life and Primus created machinery, and only in concert could they create Transformers. Now Unicron is dropping the ball and Primus has stepped back to let the Primes handle it, but things are still sort of getting dull and stagnant, and this whole "permanent war" deal that the new Prime and the guy who borrowed Unicron's primary champion's name have cooked up is just as frustrating as anything else.

Given that we're working with G1 Stunticons (i'm always doing that, anyway) the Stunties have spent a comparatively very long time being exposed to Unicron (under the Earth) than they have Primus (in space). They're still in the regular world, but they spend basically no time on Cybertron ever and are made from Earth-based materials, so they're basically just getting washed in Unicron Juice forever. This is barely relevant, but it might wind up more relevant later, who knows.

A final note: since everything isn't set in stone, I might reverse Unicron and Primus's positions as life deity and death deity without reversing anything else, worldbuilding-wise, anyway, and have Motormaster be trying to find the Underworld on Cybertron, but that's kind of boring and I like the earth energy better. We know where Cybertron keeps its dead, that's not so cool. And the idea of a robot alien wlaking into the belly of the regular Earth- surrounded by plants and shit, in an environment he is fully unsuited for- is very fun for me in a way that the Cybertron is not.

A lot of my worldbuilding is copped from TF Prime. Can you tell.

SO okay. No plot notes whatsoever in and we're already at a block of text so long that my computer doesn't want to register keystrokes for ano a full minute after I write them, cool cool cool. I might have to break this up into a separate thing, we'll see how frustrated this makes me.

The opening is simple, and I can just plain copy paste it. (Curses be upon Tumblr for not enabling nested readmores like they do on Dreamwidth.)

It happened out of nowhere. Nothing Motormaster could’ve done about it, not that he wanted to hear that at the time. He’d gone over it back and forth for days, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong as leader to let it happen. Turns out sometimes these things are just dumb shit luck. One stray shell landing in a place it wasn’t supposed to when they weren’t actually under attack, and then, boom, and their racecar frames were all more fragile than Motormaster’s truck. They’d had to piece him back together, too, anyway. Wasn’t like he’d gotten out unscathed either. But the rest of his teammates were dead.  Motormaster didn’t really come to grips with that in the medbay. They had him there for two weeks while they slowly rebuilt his spinal circuitry and the rest of his torso and legs and cab, but he spent the whole time prodding at the empty bonds mentally and running through what he could’ve done different instead. He didn’t really figure his shit out after either, when they let him back out onto his feet and threw him back to the war. He’d refused to go, asked what they were going to do to get him back his team instead. They’d told him dead was dead, and there was nothing to do about it; now he had to get over it and get back to the fight. Time to get even, or get one up on the Autobots. Not time to freak out about what was done and gone and couldn’t be fixed.  And he didn’t really come to grips with it then, either. He listened to them for a little while, thrown himself back into the fight. Let them convince him that there was nothing for him to do. But he was a team leader first, and without his team he didn’t know what to do with himself. And then he finally got it. Put the pieces together one by one. If no one else would go get his teammates back for him, well, shit, it was his responsibility to do that, wasn’t it? After all, he was their team leader.  He got himself together after that. Put in a report stating he wasn’t going to come back until the task was done, requested time off from the Decepticons. He didn’t wait around to see if it was granted or not. They’d take him and his team back when he returned, he was pretty sure. And he packed himself a little travel bag and got his sword and went out into the world to find the opening to the Underworld. He knew it was somewhere. It turned out to be a little bit underwhelming, after everything.  He'd been expecting something dramatic- a crack in the ground, billowing fire; a massive cave ringe with thousands of glittering jewels; an enormous terminal computer terminal humming with infernal energies, or something, but it was simple. No frills. Just a narrow staircase down into the dark, a rough-hewn affair with no end in sight. It wasn't even scary. Motomaster rested his sword over his shoulders, and began his descent.

Anyway I have, like I said, not ironed out exactly where I want to go with this, but for obvious reasons the Stunticons (minus Motormaster) probably are gonna wind up staying dead, since ethat's the way the story goes. I haven't decided, though; it would be really fucking funny if we make them Primes instead. Combiner Prime 2.0, or some shit like that. It'd lose what I like about the Orpheus and Eurydice story, though; I eat tragedy up for breakfast lunch and dinner and then heap myself anoher serving for dessert.

That aside, I do know some of what I want to do with it. The journey to the Allspark is long and difficult, and the first part is (obviously) getting to the staircase down. I have to go and add more stuff there, because that's not supposed to be an easy search either, but I don't want that to stretch on too long; crucially, though, outside his own realization Motormaster catches the attention of one of Unicron's Primes. They go poke Unicron, who goes "huh. Intriguing" and lets Motormaster in to his domain.

But Earth!Reverse is still just as big as regular!Earth and there's a lot of new ground to cover between the staircase down and the seat of the Reverse!Allspark and Unicron's throne. There are like, people in the way and shit. I'm not going for a full on like, cerberus and the river styx type deal, I want to make it a little less played-out and a little more interesting, but it is crucial that there is a whole bunch of people between Motormaster and Unicron and they can all be reasoned with, tricked or otherwise worked around with a bit of thought. I've got full intentions to make these workarounds really obvious, too... at least to the reader.

Because Motormaster is an idiot. And he solves everything by punching people really fucking hard.

He mostly makes it through the Underworld by being a giant pain in the ass and all the guardians who are supposed to direct him where he's supposed to go or provide a small challenge to let him prove himself eventually just go "Fuck this. Fuck this shit. What the fuck ever. Fuck this guy. Unicron and whoever else is behind me can sort him out, I am not getting paid enough to put up with this shit" and so they send him on his way, or give him bad directions that get him turned around or whatever, but they don't really stay in his way. Everyone fucking hates him though. He's making absolutely no friends. This will be relevant later.

Eventually Motormaster makes it to Unicron's court, where Unicron is waiting to hear him out at least with some sense of interest. Primus is there too, since they're buddies and Primus is fucking PSYCHED to see Unicron up and at it and is spending time hanging out in his court watching this stupid little truck slowly make it down to Unicron's fortress. Unicron allows Motormaster to plead his case, expecting, like, some attempt (however halfhearted) of an eloquent case for the return of Motormaster's subordinates, all of whom are present and chilling.

Motormaster does not do this, becuase he is Motormaster. Instead he just goes "Those are mine. Give 'em back" and goes to walk off with his teammates. He presumes this will work because he is an idiot but also becuase so far going "give me what i want or i'll hit you really hard" has resulted in him getting what he wants, because so far what he has wanted was not to leave but just to go in. And he most certainly was not stealing from Unicron.

Needless to say, this does not work.

After Motormaster is knocked very roundly on his ass by [gestures vaguely] someone or other, and impressed upon him is the importance of actually doing shit correctly this time, Unicron- who frankly is just kinda having fun- grants Motormaster a show of unusual leniency and allows Motormaster a second chance to plead his case. Motormaster tries slightly harder and proceeds to fuck it up again, but less badly, at least. Yay improvement.

(He still promises to punch Unicron really hard if Unicron won't give him his teammates back, but fortunately for everyone Unicron finds it really funny that this insignificant little ant is trying to threaten him personally. It's cute. Reminds him of Megatronus before the whole dealie with Solus and Liege Maximo stripped him of a chunk of his hubris. So it's like a kitten pouncing on his foot to him. He keeps encouraging the behavior even though it shouldn't be encouraged because he likes to see it. Primus keeps telling him off for it but he's not making any headway.)

Anyway in order to test Motormaster's resolve and also give him some sort of a chance, Unicron sets before Motormaster like five tasks that are nominally-impossible but not really. Here's where the labors of Herakles things come in; these are all just hard things that have answers. A lot of the labors of herakles are, like, killing a tthing though; obviously Motormater is okay at that, so instead we set before him tasks that don't require him to kill anyone.

Motormaster fails them all. He has one skill and that skill isn't even a little bit "looking for loopholes and tricky problem-solving". He tries and he just plain does not suceed within the timeframe he's been set.

Finally Unicron like. Literally trying soooooo hard to find an excuse to give him back his teammates because he's enjoying watching Motormaster do stuff and he wants Mototormaster to succeed, is like hey. Final task for you. Make the trip back with them and don't turn back, and you can keep them. Cool? Cool. This should be really simple, just face forward and don't turn around. I'll literally give you a guide. Please don't fuck this up.

Technically speaking, that would make all of the Stunticons minus Motormaster sort of like another of Unicron's Primes. Which would be really funny. If he won, that is. But obviously he doesn't win.

(It's very tempting to consider having him turn to look at his teammates as he leaves Unicron's court and having literally everyone present, in unison, go "....oh, for fuck's sake" as they vanish back to the Allspark.)

The real question is more, like- obviously I'm doing black comedy, that's my niche, I don't think I'm capable of not doing black comedy. But there are a few different directions I can go with it. It can be like, yay, Motormaster has learned to deal with grief now, everything's fine and the dead want to stay dead, this is not a happy story but it's a triumphant one. Or it can be like "you would be better off having literally just committed suicide". Or somewhere in between. I can't decide what balance I want to strike, but there's something compelling to the idea that Motormaster making it out of the underworld would sort of properly trap him out of it, where he can't actually return basically ever because divinity has gotten under his skin a little too hard and now it's not working, shit's out of balance and he can't die until it goes back and he is not smart nor powerful enough to ever put it back to rights anyway. If he managed to get his teammates out with him that'd be one thing, but obviously I'm not doing that; we all know what happened to Euridyce.

Anyway obviously I still have a lot to do on this one before I can really get back to it but it's cooking. It's being brain stew. And the flavor is good so far.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Does arthur ever have problems due to his shoulders? Cause like, if Uther has burned his shoulders as punishment for a lot of times to the pint where they're now scared, then he'd probably have shoulder pains or aches. Then again, I'm not a doctor so idk

Great questions... there are a lot of layers to the answers

He's extremely sensitive to people touching his shoulders... it's the reason why he feels uncomfortable with his armor off. There are only four people he feels safe with his armor off; Celestine, Kit Cosomo, Nonsurat (eventually...), and Meta Knight.

Before he fell into madness... he was the equivalent of Tywin Lannister. He knew how to look like he cared & to talk his way out of the situation. He was coldhearted & cruel... but the man was no fool. He knew how to play the game... only appealed to the upper crusts of the galaxy, which allowed him to gain many powerful allies at the top.

Sir Uther was in a high position... this was the leader of GSA, and not many could oppose his word. He was the... strongest warrior in the galaxy (for his time); the Ancients & Absalom (the high priest of the Ancient- an OC I will present later) had appointed him. No one questioned him...

And yes, Arthur got the short end of the stick...

(I changed some things (originally he started as the strongest): but Arthur as a young cadet started out as the weakest... there was no clear winner, but it was clear that Arthur was the weakest.)

Sir Uther already had high expectations for Arthur because he possessed a very rare elemental magic (light magic)... And he was the weakest out of the three (what a waste of rare magic he thought).

He ended up being an example for the other two (Morgan & Nonsurat) "This is what happens when you fail me". The way Arthur's been burned, it's the equivalent of a brand mark... Uther had intentionally done this for control purposes... to put fear into the other two.

Morgan & Nonsurat weren't cruel to Arthur (perse) ... but they ignored him for being the weakest. Constantly leaving him out of their conversations & practice sessions together. (This behavior was taught to them by Uther...)

However, this motivated Arthur to train even harder... pushing himself to the limit (to a very unhealthy amount). In the sense of "Who needs them... I can train without... BETTER EVEN!" Mentally blocking out and ignoring the pain. All the venom came from Arthur... the other two just feed off of that.

When the day Arthur managed to tip the scale and become the strongest of the three... this changed everything. He (Arthur) exceeded Uther's expectations... And finally, Arthur managed to be praised by his mentor... even if it lasted a moment.

This was a high Arthur would be constantly chasing.... Uther saw this and used it to his advantage... he finally managed to produce his perfect soldier (Arthur)... who was willing to do anything for his affection & praise (Uther's scumbag).

But despite Nonsurat (now being the weakest of three), they still had each other... he was the one alone at the top now. He couldn't help but envy them... Like I said Arthur was already venomous towards them (for always leaving him out)...

Sir Uther saw the animosity between the three and took advantage of it... starting a whole new dynamic...

He no longer had to use his "old method intimidation" (he didn't have to lift a finger), he merely had to turn the three of them against each other... (I've touched up on this in Morgan's intro post).

Basically, Uther made the three strongest warriors in the GSA by constantly making them compete with each other (knives constantly sharpening one another). And it worked dangerously better...

There would always be a side comment (from Uther). "You see, this is why... you two, never be as good as Arthur..." turning all their hatred towards Arthur. And he'd watch in content as the mere words would cause them to spring back into action, trying to outdo Arthur ... He'd especially say these things to Morgan, seeing how effective it was as a motivator. Reminding her how close she was to... causing Morgan to foster her hatred of Arthur...

While Arthur's suffered more physical abuse... Nonsurat and Morgan were more emotional & mental... which was just as damaging... they were all scarred by just in different ways Uther...

Speaking of Arthur... he fed his paranoia that Morgan & Nonsurat were constantly out to get him and his spot. Reminding him, " You don't want to experience being at the bottom again..." And would merely touch the pauldron... and would trigger him to go back and work twice as hard.

Ignore all his aches... and pains... Which is why Arthur has such a high pain tolerance... He was never going back down... he didn't want to be discarded... he didn't want to feel worthless again. The burns on his arm are a reminder of those times...

Which is why it was especially painful for Arthur when he found Uther... Regarding this post (What Kind of Kings in My Blood)

I plan to explore more of this later please say tuned~

[superfluouskeys]

Oh no these asks are GREAT I want to ask like ten of them ummmmmmmm having Restraint: 3 (vibe check) 4 ( 👀 ) 17 (especially curious abt your editing process?? I am so greedy for your tradecraft secrets) aaaaand 19 (I recently researched….. doormats. that made me feel very sane about my choices please tell me about yours)

GOOD EVENING i have finally returned to what is truly important, my tumblr ask box.

3. how you feel about your current WIP

JNSDKJFSDKNJ NOT THE VIBE CHECK but you know, I had a smol breakthrough like two? nights ago that i have yet to actually follow up on LOL. I had this transition section where i was like i need to impart some Vibes and some Character Arc but i'm literally boring myself rn, and I think I have figured out in a vague sense how to make the transition do a lot more work for me, so that's good!

In general I'm extremely excited about some Major Points of the thing, just currently have to do an inordinate amount of sowing seeds for those major points in a way that's like subtle enough that I'm not hitting the reader over the head but also exists enough that the careful reader will pick up on it you feel?

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

Side note before I even start answering...sometimes I think about how many of my """"""story ideas""""""""""" are just glorified weather metaphors. I am genuinely not sure what happened in my brain to make me like this. What has the weather EVER done to me.

Uhm so anyway since I'm thinking about Stormchaser, definitely a story idea and not just a weather metaphor in a trench coat, why don't I tell you a little bit about my characters because I'm very normal about them.

The first person [main character we are tentatively naming Emily] meets in the city is Nolan, who owns a small bar and restaurant that she won in a messy divorce. She puts on an act of tough-and-wry-and-world-weary, but she's very soft-hearted and has a bit of a savior complex, a bit of that 'i don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else' vibe.

She has taken in Asher and Aislynn, siblings from a prominent and wealthy family who have had a [very mysterious] falling out with their parents and are thus in need of a place to stay. Asher is guarded and protective, while Aislynn is very open and warm. People often perceive her as naive, but Aislynn actively chooses to see the best in others.

Aislynn has magic, which is the source of many of her problems. (This is like kind of a reveal but the foreshadowing is painfully obvious LOL) Back when I was thinking about Stormchaser as a multi-path story, one major decision point was going to be, in a moment where the player character is hurt (not gravely, but still not in great shape), choosing whether to allow Aislynn to use magic to heal her. It would have a huge impact on the MC's relationships with most of the other major characters, since most of them have very strong opinions either about magic or about Aislynn herself. Aislynn is also the reason I ended up wanting to write the story--I had an overarching idea for the plot, but I got soooo attached to her so quickly!

17. talk about your writing and editing process

as we all know my writing process is just getting possessed by some sort of weather-related entity and then not sleeping until well after the sun has risen, so I think that's pretty clear and doesn't raise any sort of questions or concerns.

if no weather entity possession, my strategy has become "just force yourself to write the painful and clunky sentences at the speed of molasses and then look at it again tomorrow" -- because most of the time the next day I can fix what was clunky really easily bc I made space in my brain by getting the ideas down, and sometimes, extra special treat, I reread what I wrote and it's literally not even bad I was just in a mood LOL.

I feel like a very large percentage of my editing is just being extremely insane about word choice. Sometimes I go back and forth on word choice/word order/very very minor sentence structure things literally long after the thing is published and I am trying to tell myself to let it go. But tbh I don't really have a process for this, it's just what jumps out at me when I reread it as being awkward or not quite what I was going for. I'm probably like this because I used to be such an insufferable snob (used to be!!!!) and needlessly chose so many ten dollar words that I think I have a better-than-average sense of when simpler language is better vs. when you need a more complex word to describe the thing. So it sort of depends on the character whether I do a lot of deleting or adding of extra fluff and filler words LOL.

I'm alllll about limited POV and creating a headspace/thought pattern for characters, so I do a lot of thinking about what the specific character knows, how the specific character would express something, or whether she even has the language for what she's experiencing. I really love finding ways of conveying an emotion that the reader will recognize but the character doesn't!!

On a more macro scale I think I do a lot of, like, "this section is boring me. why?" In a story you really don't want anything that's doing nothing, and you definitely don't want a whole section that's not doing much. Sometimes because I try to make my dialogue as natural as possible the conversation starts to kind of wander LOL, and so I have to be like okay hold up what are we talking about what needs to be established here. And then usually jump back a bit and figure out how to lead the conversation in a more pointed direction.

And a lot of the time idk how much transitional stuff to include, so I'll be off on some rambling journey like uhmmmm do I need this??? when do we get to the fun part???? Which, like, not to say the fun part will be easier to write or anything, but a lot of time that feeling of boredom is bc what I'm doing either isn't necessary and can be accomplished in a way that's more fun for me personally OR it's fine it just needs to be pulling a lot more weight in what it's telling the reader. I find I sometimes get caught up in, like, a story beat that would "make sense here" as opposed to a story beat I personally like.

Like, as an example, I've been thinking (for soooo long yes i know) about how to continue the chance you take, and I remember I put in my notes that like a sparring scene would make sense, where you know it's all a metaphor and there's some quippy dialogue or w/e. And ik a lot of people like that kind of scene! And idk, sometimes I do too! But like........I don't want to do that lol! And in fact I think it doesn't actually fit with the vibe of the story, which is so much less about the violence surrounding it and so much more about the quiet moments in between. But I'm literally just thinking this now as I'm typing this. Like I didn't have a good reason for why I didn't want to progress the story that way until literally right now.

Which I guess leads me to another very important editing tool: pacing my kitchen like a crazy person explaining the problem I'm having to myself so I can try to talk through why it's bothering me LOL! as you can see it's extremely efficient and time-sensitive. six to ten business days turnaround for sure.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

chickens :)

I'm genuinely drawing a blank LOL, I've definitely looked into a few things I can vividly remember (boats/ships and how crews and shifts work for TCYT, horse riding/cart pulling for scorched earth, how animal testing works for uhmmm that one moicy fic, oh and I remember i looked a lot into bird symbolism for the prisoner LOL) but I think mostly what I do is intensely study the source material, and I haven't run into that many situations where I felt like I needed to make sure I knew about something in the actual world and not the fictional one LOL! Wow I'm boring! I want to know about doormats!!!!!

fic writer asks!

[cousticks]

Fave character and why (overall)

What type of characters do you typically enjoy? (for me i usually like dead characters because of their... idk there's just so much to work w there 😭 like so many things for interpretation/potential)

What got you into bsd

What got you into tumblr

Can you give at least one tip or advice on how to recover from a hyperfixation on something when u need to be productive?

Are you better at writing or drawing?

If you could choose, which would you be better at?

Do you like painting?

Are your friends nice?

Forgive me for the random asks. jus answer the ones you want to ty ❤️

Is it weird if I answer all of them? I think all of these are fun to answer so I'm gonna answer all of them. Tysm!!

Favorite character overall is... really difficult. I like so many different characters for so many reasons across so many different medias. Even choosing a favorite from BSD is wildly difficult. Of all characters ever, one of my favorites is Cal Trask from John Steinbeck's East of Eden (the book, not the movie, even though he is played by James Dean). East of Eden is one of my favorite books ever, and most of the incredible themes in it, all of the cycles it represents, as well as the cycles it finally breaks, are done through Cal. He struggles with being good despite a thematic predisposition to being anything but throughout his portion of the novel doomed-by-the-narrative style, until at the end the resolution is that... he doesn't have to be either, he only really has to be him. I love that book dearly and could talk about its themes for hours (and have!). As far as favorite BSD characters specifically, that's near impossible for me to say, but a rough top-group would include Kyusaku, Kouyou, Dazai but specifically mafia era, Kunikida, and Albatross. I don't have any really good reasoning for those top favorites beyond "hehe, I like them," honestly.

I usually enjoy characters that it takes a while to piece together their motivations. Morally grey. And I mean actually morally grey, not the asshole-that-does-nice-things antihero type. I like characters that make me want to think about them and piece them together and study them like bugs under a magnifying glass until they start to catch on fire. Dudes who suck but have so much potential to be more. Make me have to justify why I enjoy them in front of a board of directors. I love to be able to fill in between the lines.

A former friend group got me into BSD back in 2019 because they were all watching it and I happened to have the time and energy to. The sheer amount of media to consume & intrigue of the characters is what made me stay, though.

This is horribly embarrassing but my first stint on Tumblr ~7 or 8 years ago was sparked by learning that the Onceler fandom existed and being absolutely fascinated by it. It was already dying out by this point, so I wasn't active or anything in it, but I thought the way people interacted across blogs to make these wild stories was so fascinating. Specifically the Truffula Flu zombie arcs. I was a Camp Entre loyalist. A couple years later I accidentally deleted my blog and didn't get active on Tumblr again until a little over a year ago, though, when I wanted to start engaging with the fanbases some media I was fixating on at the time.

If I could figure out the secret for recovering from a hyperfixation in a productive way I would be a much more functional person. Sometimes I'm able to approach things with an "if you can't beat it, join it" mentality, and can come up with ways to connect my current task to whatever I'm fixating on. Here's the secret: you're allowed to be cringe with it. If you need to do the dishes and need to make it a mental competition for "oh boy I need to be less of a disaster than Dazai its fucking on" or "I need to do my math homework so Kunikida will be proud of me" or "gotta do my laundry... I gotta be dressy for my port mafia work attire..." then do it. Who cares. That doesn't work all the time, but it can work sometimes. And when it doesn't? I normally just try to clear my mind entirely by doing something that sucks so much I can't think of anything except how it sucks. For me its cardio. I hate cardio exercise. But if I go on a jog and come back I a) feel a little better and more functional because I went on a stupid exercise for my stupid mental health, b) got some of the excess fixation energy out, and c) that sucked so bad i would literally rather do Anything else i might as well be fucking productive. These are not sure-fire ways but they help me. And my most important one? You can't focus when you're stressed. Trying to force yourself to focus when you're stressed about an assignment and panicking because you can't focus will not help you, it will make the problem worse. It is okay to give yourself some grace, walk away, try to put yourself into a healthier mindset, and come back. That's another reason I like to take walks when I can't focus, even if its just a small one down the hall for a glass of water and then back. Don't force yourself. Never force yourself. You'll feel worse and more frustrated.

I'm much better at writing. I'm horrible at drawing, I just do it anyway for fun because sometimes I need to get my fixation kick out in a visual manner. Writing has always been my strong suit.

If I could choose? I think I'd still pick writing, honestly. I'm sometimes jealous of those that can make gorgeous art, but I'm happy in my world of writing because it has helped me in so many other areas of my life as well. I don't live an artists life, unfortunately, and writing has served me well.

I do like painting! I haven't in a very long time, as I don't have the time or energy much, but I used to sculpt and paint my creations. I'm not saying I was particularly good at either, but I used to, and I enjoyed it.

I didn't always have nice friends. But these days? They are. I wouldn't trade the friends I have now for the world.

[apparently-artless]

Tagged by @sebfreak (judy) and @gojosattoru (ana). Thank you for tagging me!

PICREW! (link!!!)

Nickname: Aya (this is what my close friends call me), Art (I use this name on Tumblr) Sign: Virgo Height: 158cm.  Last thing I googled: The Big 4 Film (I got curious why this movie is top 1 on Netflix in my country) Song stuck in my head:  Fly Up (just recently watched Lookism and I fell in love with this song) No. of followers: seriously?? this is kinda embarrassing!! hahaha. okay, it's 2.6k (￣▽￣*)ゞ Amount of sleep: my aim is always 8 hours, but realistically, it's 6-7 hours Lucky number: nothing comes to mind, to be honest. I'd say 16 Dream job: I want to be a network engineer. I finally managed to get some certifications so I hope I'l get there, but eventually, I want to have my own restaurant. I love cooking and want to have my own resto managed by my siblings and me since we all love to cook and make our own recipes from time to time. Also, I want to be my own boss. Who wouldn't?? Wearing: i'm basically naked. jk! i'm at home most of the time and I live in a tropical country so basically shorts and a sleeveless top Movies/books that summarize me: 3 Idiots?? I've been struggling as an engineer since college and even after I started working. XD Favorite song: what I keep on playing all the time right now is Keep in Mind (I heard this the first time from Link Click and have been in love ever since) Favorite instrument: guitar (I had the very first guitar that my Auntie gave to me as a gift when I graduated college. still play it to this day and have never bought a new one), i also love piano but i only managed to buy a keyboard so i can at least learn how to play ( 〃▽〃) Aesthetic: monochrome, black and white, i'm starting to appreciate blue and pink recently (am I even answering this correctly?? XD) Favorite author: Jonathan Kellerman (heavily influenced by my mom, ever since I started receiving an allowance, we would go to bookstores selling second-hand books and look for this author and collect them)  Favorite animal noise: crickets Random: Mashle is a good manga recommendation so please read it if you want an OPM/Harry Potter/Comedy combination. anime will be coming out in April so if you are not reading manga, please watch the anime. sorry, this is the only thing on my mind right now. I also created a side blog for that. I never made a side blog just for a specific manga/anime, so this is a first for me. Can't wait for the anime to come (─‿‿─)♡

A song for each letter in your URL

A - A Million Dreams (The Greatest Showman) P - Pretender (Official HIGE Dandism) P - Perfectly Imperfect (Declan J Donovan) A - Afraid (DAY6) R - REMEMBER (Hiroyuki Sawano) E - Everlasting Shine (TXT) N - No Matter What (Calum Scott) - I cried the first time I heard this T - Tell Me (millet) L - Lost Boy (Ruth B.) Y - You are the Reason (Calum Scott) A - A Hero Someday (Takeyaki Sho) R - Rewrite the Stars (The Greatest Showman) T - This is Me (The Greatest Showman) L - Lemon (Kenshi Yonezu) E - Empty Space (James Arthur) S - Slump (Japanese Version - Stray Kids) S - Start of Something Good (Daughtry)

As for 17 people << sorry it's not 17 people. XD please don't feel pressured, no need to do this if you don't want to or if you've already done so (ᵔ.ᵔ) >> I just want to say hi to my new mutuals. @tanchirou @mcki @cait-shelter @hazelsalazar @tovako @err0r-418 @silversoulsociety @pikachiis @euyrdice

[slippery-minghus]

had a bit of an epiphany this morning. i've spent so much of my life striking a line through my own wants for various reasons. when i was young, because it wasn't safe to have wants—and through gaslighting i believed that the things *i* wanted were things that would hurt me. when i was in my early 20s, as i began to heal, i was able to slowly process that i had external safety, and on that surface level shed my fears and express wants. but i could still never truly accept the deep wants i had, or even allow myself to identify them, because deep wants like that were clearly a danger to me. (like, being 5 and wanting to be comforted. that was dangerous. and through fear and shame i began to believe that i would only even want those things if i wanted to hurt myself)

so this led to, as i became healed enough for it to surface, beginning to see my true wants and flinching back from them out of fear. and covering them up with the things i'm supposed to want. only, this got so warped as i began to heal. the way my brain processed a lot of the healing was to take the words of it, and map it onto damaged pathways. the loudest one, that i realized something about this morning, was "i am not supposed to want to be alone. to be healthy, i have to want close interpersonal connection."

this was not me acknowledging a deep inner want for a neurotypical-esque level of intimacy with another person(s). this was me seeing my want for solitude and saying That's Bad, You Only Want That So You Can Hurt Yourself, and pulling over a rug to try to override my true desire. because that true desire isn't safe. that true desire is going to get me hurt. and by wanting solitude i clearly can't possibly be trusted yet (or ever) to know what is actually good for me.

and it occurred to me, when thinking about other disabilities and health issues i have, that cannot be cured, only managed... maybe there isn't a prognosis for my psyche to be able to have those well-adjusted-since-birth social wants and needs. i've always struggled with the idea that the starting point my trauma left me with was not as catastrophically damaging as it felt. that maybe i wasn't in the highest percentile bracket of "fucked up by trauma", so not only was i overreacting, but that the expectations for how much healing i could do were higher than the progress i had shown. no therapist has ever given me a straight answer on that which... intellectually i understand.

but after ten hard years of therapy—and finally starting to be able to sit with the idea that what i want NOW does not have to be invalidated by what i may want later—i'm realizing that maybe. and not in a bad way. i can't be cured. partly because there is not enough time to do the work, but largely... because i don't want to do it. not because i want to hurt myself or deliberately stunt my growth but. because—even though it was my trauma that trained me to like solitude—i want and like to be alone.

which gives way to the framework of How Do I Make Myself Happy Here? Now? i've read a thing that suggests rather than a personality metric like meyers-briggs, we acknowledge that everyone has a minimum and maximum limit for social interaction before they get weird. (the op of the post talks about sticking googly eyes on everything when they're lonely... which i have certainly done. Mr TV, my beloved friend) so i think the way i need to be framing it all instead is - knowing a need for solitude is my baseline, are my social needs being met? in this moment?

it's not pushing myself to interact with people more and more, to build up more energy, to have more corrective experiences, with the endgame of being able to withstand a high amount of social interaction so i can someday want to have this allegedly healthy want for attachment. a want i don't even have! right now! because if i wanted all that interaction now, i would be looking for ways to get it. i would want it now, not anticipate that i may want it because i think a certain amount of depositing Good Interactions will spit out the Want For More Interactions.

i've always wanted to be alone. my reasons for it have changed, yes, but not the core drive. which i think is the point. if i wanted to have all those attachments like i'm "supposed to", that would have been the underlying core this whole time, and the reasons why i couldn't have it would be the things that were changing. it would be "i'm not healthy enough to have safe relationships with people yet even though i want to" NOT "i don't want relationships with people, which means i must not be healthy enough to have them yet". which entirely invalidates the stated want of not wanting relationships!!

i SEE that i want a very minimal level of human interaction and intimacy. i SEE that that want has not changed throughout the course of my memory. how much interaction i can handle has changed, but that it is a baseline much lower than most people has not. and i can't move forward in my actual healing, with the brain that i have, if i think it will someday magically change into something else.

my trauma shaped me. built me the brain that i have. i can mend a lot of it and make it a pleasant place to be, but i don't have the means or the desire to entirely bulldoze and rebuild the infrastructure. and that doesn't mean i should abandon the central highways and try to build new ones right next door, either. it means i'll take care of those highways, put up greenspaces around them so the noise doesn't travel, add new exits and side streets and houses. i'll make it a nice place to live with the plot of land i have, and i'll take down the signs saying "New Superhighway Coming Soon!"

[mooniefics]

AFTER CONTEMPLATING FOR SEVERAL MINUTES:

reiner braun 🤪 + “please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

this is literally the cutest moonie, i'm proud of you for hitting 250!! ilysm 💖��💕

oh my gosh i’m so sorry this took me so long,, thank u so much for the request n the congratulations mar !! very happy that my first work for this event can be for my love, our one n only reiner ♡(｡- ω -)

in all your years of knowing reiner, you couldn’t say that you’d ever once heard him sounding so frantic.

“please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

those were the exact words he’d used over the phone, imploring for you to come to the official marley high ten-year reunion and pose as his girlfriend. despite how you assured him that you were certain no one would judge him for being single, he seemed adamant that it would be the exact opposite. and after a few apologies for your laughter at his predicament and a brief negotiation over his payment of getting you your favorite drink from the cafe near your workplace for the next few weeks, it was a done deal.

though you admittedly felt a twinge of anxiety upon entering the venue of chattering adults, dressed in the best semi-formal outfit you had in your closet, you could see that he was the more obviously nervous one between the two of you.

“just relax, rei.” you murmured, slipping your hand in his and giggling at the way his arm tensed, “these are your high school friends! i’m sure they’ll be surprised enough that you managed to find a nice girl like me all by yourself—“ he huffed disapprovingly, earning another small laugh, “—and only ask about your work or something.”

you barely finished your brief attempt at a pep talk when a loud voice came from somewhere by the food table. “is that you, braun?!”

reiner’s jaw shifted, a sign you’d come to learn meant him holding back a wince, turning to see a man with slicked back hair and a broad grin on his face approaching. based on his heavy-lidded gaze, paired with the red solo cup tipping dangerously horizontal in his grasp, you assumed he was quite tipsy already.

“considering how late you are, i wasn’t sure you’d even show,” he chuckled, still having to peer up at reiner despite still being taller than you, “but the more i thought about it, the more i remembered you never were the punctual type anyways.”

“great to see you too, porco..” reiner replied half-heartedly, palm already getting clammy in your grasp.

you glanced momentarily between them, deciding to come to your friend’s rescue by clearing your throat, drawing the teasing attention away from him. “actually, he was late because of me.” you flashed a smile, leaning into reiner’s side. “just wanted to look my best since i knew i was gonna be meeting his old friends.”

“holy shit..” porco muttered after a moment of silence, hazel eyes blowing wide as he stared at you like you’d disappear if he blinked even once, only breaking his gaze to turn over his shoulder and call out, “piecky, c’mere! i think reiner’s actually got a fuckin’ girlfriend!!”

you barely stifled a laugh at reiner’s low sigh of discomfort, pointedly ignoring how the people around glanced at porco’s shout. “did you seriously used to hang around with that guy?”

“no..” he grumbled back, “he hung around the people i hung around with and always gave me shit for no reason.”

“wow, rei, feeling a little feisty tonight, are we?”

he scoffed as you reached up to poke at his cheek, able to see the pink flush that had settled over his sharp features despite the dim lighting, dodging your inquiry while he looked ahead. “he’s coming back.”

putting on the smile you’d practiced so many times right back on, you caught sight of a cheerful dark-haired woman sidling over to your small group. “reiner?! you seriously got even taller? who’s this?”

you both exchanged names, offering a hand for her to shake which she eagerly took, turning to reiner for affirmation of your identity, to which he said, “yeah, she's my.. girlfriend...”

“how long have the two of you been together?”

“a couple months—”

“—almost a year.”

you quickly laughed off the sudden nerves of giving conflicting answers, turning back to reiner’s friends and recovering with, “we’re not super big on keeping track of dates. you know how time flies when you love someone.” you turned up to reiner, lips perking into a doting smile, “right?”

his cheeks flushed an even darker red, a sheepish smile brightening his expression. “right.”

“looks like you’re the only single one, pock.” pieck teased, laughing when the man rolled his eyes and huffed.

“you’re still with zeke?” reiner asked, prompting her to extend her left hand, waggling her fingers to show off the large diamond ring on her finger.

“yep, engaged for two years now!”

“apparently still too good to come to anything she invites him to.” porco grumbled in response.

“i already told you he’s on a business trip,” she frowned, taking his cup from his hand and taking a generous sip from it, “i’m sure he would’ve come if he hadn’t had somewhere else to be.”

“whatever you say..” he sighed, letting her finish his drink despite his apparent annoyance.

thankfully, your small slip up had been ignored, allowing both you and reiner to relax when the two finally turned their attention back to you. the night progressed much less turbulently than you’d previously anticipated, reiner allowing you to handle any questions directed at your relationship, not saying anything when you frequently slipped in little white lies to make everything seem more convincing. it didn’t stray terribly far from the truth, you were entirely honest about the way you’d met and the things that had made you “fall in love with him”. 

you took a strange amount of joy in posing as his significant other, just as he gave equally genuine reactions when you wrapped his arm around your shoulder or ate something from his plate of food, flustered and smiling all throughout. for a few brief moments, you almost forgot that he was meant to be pretending too. he’d seemed more than happy to see that you were getting along well with all his old friends.

you learned more about reiner in the hour that you’d been milling around the room with him than you probably ever had in the confines of the job environment that you’d met him in—intrigued to hear that he’d been the captain of the football team, feuded with the neighboring high-school’s while being head over heels for the captain of their cheer team, held the title of champion arm-wrestler for all four years he attended marley—little details that you made you would’ve never known had you never agreed to come. the unintentionally intimidating, humble, easy-to-fluster human resources manager that you’d befriended apparently used to be a total jock, always getting himself into trouble. 

and, based on how many times you’d been congratulated on managing to stick by his side for longer than a few months, you could only assume that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of discovering the entirety of reiner’s character.

eventually, your small group of four that’d you started out the night with had reconvened, tipsy from constantly sipping on spiked punch, an excited exclamation from pieck made all of you turn. “look! the photo booth finally opened up!!”

she was already rushing away for the corner of the venue before anyone could say a word, everyone following suit with a laugh as she stuffed a five dollar bill into the pay slot.

“uhh, pieck, i think this thing was only meant for two people.. max.” porco said after drawing open the curtain, earning a frown from her.

“but i want us all to take a picture together!” she slid into the booth despite the observation, turning to you, “c’mon, i’m sure we could all squeeze in if you sat on reiner’s lap.”

you felt your face flush, knowing there was no way to work around her request without raising some kind of suspicion and ruining the act you’d both somehow maintained for the entire night. “sounds like a plan..!”

you could feel how tense reiner was behind you as you got settled on his thighs, hesitating to rest his hands on either side of you while pieck and porco struggled to work the screen before them. you were starting to regret not asking if this was okay with him before agreeing, but you were sure he would’ve found some way out of the situation if he was truly uncomfortable. he only seemed to be preoccupied with the thought of making you uncomfortable, something which made a flicker of affection warm your chest.

“alright! we’ve got four pictures,” pieck announced, “starting... now! and make the first a normal one!”

the first three pictures were the standard photo booth antics—one with all of you smiling normally, one with all of you making the most ridiculous face you could think of in five seconds, and one of all of you arguing over what the third photo should’ve been.

“do something cute for the last one to make up for the messed up one!” pieck demanded through her laughter, pointing urgently at the countdown on the screen, “hurry up an’ kiss or something!!”

you turned back to look at reiner, wide golden eyes gazing down at you, obviously unprepared for the steadily escalating circumstance that was only being intensified by the chanting of “kiss, kiss, kiss!” coming from the woman who’d paid for the photos in the first place. and although you knew you had no obligation to do what she asked just because she had been so kind to you despite only meeting you tonight, or because the timer was winding down towards zero all too quickly, you still found yourself reaching out a hand to settle just under his jaw, heart racing impossibly fast when you realized he was already leaning down to meet you halfway.

his lips were still sweet with whatever juice had been mixed with alcohol, skin warm and blushing from your proximity, the hand that had been resting in your lap wandering to lace your fingers with his. the exchange didn't last nearly long enough, the click of the camera drawing you back to the cramped reality, pieck's cheers through giggles and porco's disgusted scoff for you two to get a room.

"i better be invited to your wedding!" pieck joked, reaching across you to draw open the curtains in a silent sign for you to pry yourself away from reiner.

"likewise." you replied with a smile, almost giddy with excitement as you clambered out of the photo booth.

though reiner's expression just barely passed as casual, his cheeks were burning red, even the tips of his ears flushed as the four of you waiting for the machine to dispense your photos. the function was winding down fast, and as soon as your drawn-out goodbyes were finally finished, you and reiner left, hand-in-hand, much to talk over but neither of you willing to speak until you'd reached the privacy of his car.

you turned to him, smiling in the dim glow on the lights of his dash, laughing softly at his sheepish expression, "i know you said we'd only pretend for a day but.. you think i could request a little extension?"

[jaeminscoffee]

Enough. (m.)

Pairing- Jung Jaehyun x reader

Genre- Smut, Fluff towards the end.

Word count - 3k

Warnings- Harddom!Jaehyun, Sub!reader,Rough sex (are we shocked), manhandling, degradation, choking, overstimulation, strong language, hair pulling, spanking, slight size kink, dirty talking, Jaehyun is pissed.

(just realised this is the longest warning list I've made so like, buckle up, you're up for a really messy long ass ride)

Summary- Jaehyun had had enough of your behavior.

(Minors kindly try not to interact with my blogs!)

Jaehyun's life has been going at a very fast pace with the ongoing promotion of an ordeal according to you. 

Don't take it the wrong way, you were extremely happy that your boyfriend's getting promoted, but he's so caught up with it that you get the minimal attention from his side. Or so you think. 

Jaehyun is an extremely kind lad, but is an extreme disciplinarian. He is also highly patient, which you take a little too much advantage of. 

Take for example this one time the past week, Jaehyun had left early for a really important meeting when you'd decided to spam him with pictures, well not so moral. He wouldn't have minded if it was when he was in his cabin, but thinking it would've been something important seeing how many messages he was getting, he opened your texts, a picture of you in his favourite pair of lingerie took up it's place on his screen, and his fucking colleague got a glimpse of it. 

Strike one. 

Then came this time when he was busy completing a very crucial project, you texted him in bold "I'm in trouble' making Jaehyun's heart jump right up his throat. When he'd called you the very second, all he heard right after you had picked up the call was you whimpering, gasping his name slowly. You were touching yourself without his permission. 

Strike two. 

He could deal with all of that, stuffing the madness deep within him to not give you what you want, wanting to show you that your petty ways of grabbing his attention won't work on him. That just riled you up more. It got you even worked up seeing him walk in and out of the house with nothing but content on his face, no matter what you'd do. Want to scream at him? Well go ahead, Hm, silent treatment? Nah. Nagging should do the work, right? Wrong.

It's when he arrived home, all happy with the news he'd received at work when you decided to act up. 

"I'm home!" Jaehyun screamed from the entrance, loosening his tie, making his way towards where you were, the bedroom. 

"Babe! I've got good news--!" he got cut off, by you slamming yourself right onto him, holding him by the wall beside your bedroom door. 

"Have you been ignoring me?" you ask, voice gruff. Jaehyun's face seemed to contort, pondering when he'd done so. 

"No?" He answered, mostly questioning himself. You huff out, turning towards the side as the neediness from being lonely and untouched for over weeks got the best of you. You look at him, dead in the eyes, "Yes you did. You picked up none of my calls.-" he cut you off with his reasoning "I was in a meeting baby-" you cut him off this time, "And you ignored each one of my texts. You saw them, but didn't bother replying." 

Jaehyun let his eyes roam around your figure, draped in his black shirt, hair left free, face red from anger, chest heaving. He smiled knowingly. 

"I was busy, now would you be an absolute sweetheart and make me something while I go freshen up?" he ended with a hum, bending down to place a peck on your lips. 

"No." you reply, backing away from his body, walking backwards as you grip at the hem of your shirt, "No?" Jaehyun replied, now standing comfortably by the wall you'd shoved him onto with his arms folded over his chest. 

"No." you confirm, "Alright suit yourself." he shrugged, still standing there to see what you've got up your sleeves as you proceed to walk backwards in the direction of your closet. 

"I'm going over to Johnny's. At least he'd pay me more attention." you mumbled the last part, wantedly a little louder for him to hear. 

Jaehyun furrowed his eyebrows, he'd just gotten home. "And why would you do that?" he asked, stepping away from the wall, taking one small step towards you. "Because he knows how to give me attention and when." you reply loud and clear. Jaehyun visibly stiffened. 

You and Johnny had a history, you met Jaehyun through him, in fact. You guys were what your friends called friends with benefits. You'd cut off those ties and resorted to being best friends after getting into a relationship, of course. But Jaehyun always seemed hesitant to let you be alone with Johnny, but still gave you the freedom to do so. 

"What did you just say?" his voice gravelly as he took another step towards you. Jaehyun's sudden shift of demeanor makes you flinch the slightest. "I said, he knows how to give me attention and when, better than you for that matter."

Now that was strike three. 

Jaehyun's eyes darkened, as his built figure took long, fast strides towards you, scaring you a little, knowing you'd crossed the line. He stopped just an inch in front of you making you crane your neck to look at him, him lowering himself to be eye level with you. 

"What are you trying to get on, Y/n." Jaehyun asked, the pent up frustration of over time finally getting to him, gripping your shoulders in a tight hold making you hiss under your breath. 

Clearing your throat, you look down, then back up to his eyes, "Literally nothing. All I said was I'm going out to Johnnys" you stare at him with the same intensity his gaze held. Jaehyun's eyes narrowed, "Give me the exact reason." he asked, voice multiple octaves low. "Exact reason?" he hummed, "Well because my boyfriend won't fucking touch me so i have to seek help from my fuck buddy. There, happy?" 

You blink and next second you feel yourself being thrown down onto the sheets, earning a short gasp from your mouth. "Starting to whore around again, huh?" he spoke through gritted teeth, stripping out of his work suit, his biceps bulging as he removed his tie, his wrist watch, discarding only the watch by the side table, tie still in hand. 

"Well, whores get treated like whores." Jaehyun looked at you the way one would look at their prey. You whimper, his words, his aura, his voice all going straight to your core, sending shocks all throughout your body. "Strip." he ordered, standing tall, tie wrapped around his palm, arms folded over his chest, shifting his weight from one leg to another, body still adorning his white formal shirt and the black office pants, shirt tucked in making him look ethereal. 

You immediately comply, having waited for this all about the week, the only real material to remove being his shirt that had lifted up your thigh from how he'd thrown you onto the bed. 

You sit on your knees waiting for his next command. Jaehyun let out a throaty chuckle at your innocent gaze. He walked over towards the edge of the bed, gesturing with his hands for you to come over. You crawl over to him, sitting on your knees once again. You see him unwrap the tie and hold it in one hand, the other reaching out, "Give me your hands." he said in a throaty voice. You hesitate to do so, not wanting to be snatched of your freedom to touch him. 

You look at him with the most appealing, seductive look you could muster, trying to change his mind, all Jaehyun did was stare at you, boredom visible in his eyes. He waited, raising his eyebrows as you looked down at your hands that were resting on the bare flesh of your thigh. Jaehyun clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed, he took hold of your hands in a tight grip, "I don't like repeating myself, baby" he fumed, placing the silk clothing around your wrist, wrapping it multiple time before tying a knot tight enough to leave a bruise, making you wince, "And you know that." with one last tug at the knot, he backed away. 

Jaehyun removed his shirt, ripping it basically and all you could do was stare at him with lust oozing out of your eyes. At the sight of your boyfriends toned torso, you let out a silent moan, reaching your hands down between your thighs with your now tied up wrist, trying to soothe the aching. "Touch yourself and you won't even be allowed to fucking come." He growled, discarding the belt and his shirt, the only clothing on his body being his pants. You flinch at the tone of his voice, subtly brushing the tip of your finger on your clit, removing it immediately at his words. 

"Good. At least you know who does what here." Jaehyun exclaimed with voice dripping dominance, walking towards the bed once again and onto the bed, sitting the same way as you, still being taller. He trailed his hands up from your stomach, through the valley of your chest, and towards your neck, wrapping the elegant digits around the muscle, applying pressure, pushing you down onto the mattress. 

You look at him eyes wide, as the pressure increases, "Tell me, princess. Why have you been acting up lately?" Jaehyun inquired, hovering over your body, his broad shoulders covering you almost fully, the feeling of being powerless making your essence drip down onto the sheets 

"Answer me, bitch." he raised his voice, grip tightening around your neck, "J-jae-" you tap his hands, trying to let him know the pressure was too much. He didn't seem bothered though, until you frantically tried your hardest to gather as much oxygen as you could, he loosened just the slightest. 

"I-i'm sorry.. " was all you could get out, his eyes roaming all over your face before leaning down and capturing your lips in a rough kiss. Finally having some sort of your skinship with your boyfriend making you feel ecstatic as you allow yourself to slip into your subspace. Jaehyun swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, then biting it hard enough to draw a small amount of blood, making you gasp out loud, him taking advantage of your open mouth, slipping his tongue in. 

The exact moment, without you noticing, his hands had trailed down your body, towards your throbbing core, cupping the heat before shoving two digits straight into your wetness. 

You scream into the kiss, Jaehyun gulping down the sound, pulling away to hear your moans that were so addicting to his ears, the only thing keeping you attached being a string of saliva. 

Jaehyun didn't like it slow, his pace inhumanly fast in thrusting in and out of you, drawing moans after moans from you. 

"Look at you squirming already, tsk." He laughed, looking down at where his fingers disappeared in you, essence splattering each time he pulsed in. 

"J-Jae!" you tug at your wrist, wanting something to hold onto as he kept going, fingers curling in you making you jerk as you feel the tip of his fingers brush against your soft spot. 

With the actions of his skilled fingers, his gaze and the constant taunts, you felt yourself being dragged towards your high, expecting Jaehyun to slow down at the feeling of your wall clenching around his fingers, but all he did was smirk at you, moving downwards and increased the speed of his arms, the other wrapping around your middle to keep you in place as you thrash around, feeling your orgasm rip out of you. 

Jaehyun gave you one last smug look, before lowering himself, capturing your bundle of nerves in his mouth, fingers still going on about wanting to force another orgasm out of you.

You try closing your legs, the action making Jaehyun graze his teeth on your clit, removing his mouth from it right after, only to give your core a slightly rough smack, "Keep it open, baby. You wanted this." he mumbled against your core, vibrations of his voice travelling up your stomach, making your nipples painfully perk up, then resumed sucking and tugging on the sensitive bud. 

"jesus, fuck!" you cry out, not being given the chance to come down from your high, making you shut your eyes tight. 

Jaehyun dragged his fingers out slow, shoving it in with full force, watching you lift your back off the sheets, making the boy chuckle. His fingers fastened, if that was possible, tongue circling the clit, as you feel yourself near your second orgasm. 

"Ah, you're close again. Good, good." he spoke against your south lip, the feeling drawing you straight towards your high, as you feel a tear slip out of your eyes. 

Jaehyun immediately removed his fingers, lapping up the juices sprawling out of you, watching you twitch from being overstimulated. Eating you up clean, he backed away from your burning body, quickly discarding his pants alongside his boxer, chucking it somewhere behind him as you turned towards your side from the slight pain in your abdomen. 

Jaehyun looked at you, all fucked out, boosting his ego up further, as you desperately tried catching your breath. Futile. 

He let himself crawl back up your body, his hands removing the stray hair falling on your face, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair as you let yourself melt at his soft action. Funny, because the next moment, he gripped your roots, pulling you back onto your back making your breath hitch. "I had you come twice in less than 10 minutes, princess. You think Johnny could've done that?" he grunted, his painfully hardened dick now aligned by your entrance, making you squirm away as much as you could, Jaehyun keeping you in place with his hands tangled in your hair.

"Why the fuck are you silent now? Huh? Finally feeling bad for your sorry ass?" he tugged at the roots once again, making you shut your eyes tight at the pain, wanting freedom to move your hands however you want, being restrained by his necktie around your wrist.

Jaehyun dragged his length over your wetness, lubricating it before shoving it in completely, "Good, b-because i rather prefer you moan than use that annoying voice t-to talk about another guy" he grunted, the wetness and your tight walls feeling pleasurable on his member. 

You let out choked moans, letting Jaehyun ram himself inside you, tears continuously flowing down your cheeks. Jaehyun removed his hand from your hair, placing it beside your head instead to balance himself over you as he set a fast pace in going in and out. 

Jaehyun groaned, letting all his anger out by torturing your core, "Ja-jae slow down, I'm sensi-t-tive" you blurt out, mouth wide open. You hear him growl, pulling out of you, instead of saying anything, he flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips up in the air, before shoving his length back in. You let out a loud enough scream, clenching around his member, "That h-hurts.. " you cry out, keeping yourself up the best you could with your tied hands. "It should. With how you've been acting, you fucking deserve it." Jaehyun spoke, moving his hips against yours once again. In all honesty, you didn't want him to slow down, the pain not too unbearable, just perfect enough to be extremely pleasurable. 

Busy trying to focus on the feeling of his member moving in and out of your numb walls and trying to control your breath, you fail to notice one of his hands leave your waist, rubbing the flesh of your ass in a circular motion, lifting it up and bringing it down with full force, making you yelp at the sudden contact, "That's for being a fucking slut the entire week" his hands came down again, smacking the exact same spot, "That's for distracting me during work" you moan out, feeling your climax come closer with each smack, "That's for touching yourself." he groaned. 

He rubbed the reddening skin, bringing it back down with all his power, "That's for thinking about Johnny when I'm your fucking boyfriend" he finished, feeling you clench around his member as you reach your high. 

"And now she's coming again, fucking pathetic." he swore, your wetness producing squelching noises each time he pushed in, your overly dripping cunt now simply aching, unable to feel pleasure anymore. 

"J-jae i can't.." you say out in a strained voice, arms giving out as you lean your upper body down onto the mattress completely. "You can take a little more, and you will." he replied, going faster as he felt himself nearing the edge. Thrusts sloppier, Jaehyun reached out forward, gripping your hair once again, making you arch your back in a painful angle, as he held you there. His other hand reached out around your body, rubbing your clit in fast, circular motion, wanting you to come along with him. 

You tug at your wrist again, feeling the material pierce through your skin, making you cry out loud with pain both in your core and your wrist. 

You bite down your lips, feeling Jaehyun halt his hips, seeds coating your wall, the feeling having you experience an intense orgasm. 

He pulled out after emptying himself in you, your cries getting muffled, you feel both your juices drip down your thighs as Jaehyun gently lay you down. 

He took a hold of your hands, removing the tie, wincing at the red bruises, placing soft pecks all over the bruised area, he mumbled out a sorry, to which you just nodded your head. 

Jaehyun moved his body to sleep beside you, placing a kiss on your forehead as he ran his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner, making you calm down, "You okay?" he asked softly, you murmur out a faint yes, snuggling up his chest. 

After minutes of silence, the pain finally reducing the slightest, you ask Jaehyun, "you said something about having a good news..?" you whisper out loud enough for him to hear, eyelids growing heavier. He laughed out at your question, looking down at you, placing his chin on top of your head.

"Oh yeah, i got promoted."

[hold-your-applause]

A commission for the lovely @tater-tati, thank you so much for your undying support. I do hope you think of this whenever you need to catch your breath

Reformation

You wished human spines were more efficient.

You could feel yours starting to go stiff from all the hunching over you were doing at your desk, which was made worse by the poor quality of your office chair. You hadn’t stood up for hours; you could feel your knees waiting to crack when you would eventually rise from your seat, and you knew your ankles wouldn’t be any happier.

You didn’t even want to think about your neck.

You blinked your tired eyes slowly, trying to make sense of the words you had reread for the eighth time.

Or was it the ninth?

You sighed in aggravation, forcing yourself to sit up straight so you could lean back in your chair, wishing you could yell out all the tension in your body.

It’s not like anyone would hear you. You were the only person left in the building.

For the last two weeks, villains had been popping up in record numbers, so much so that many agencies were forced to work beyond their means in terms of staff, meaning countless extra hours and fewer days off. Not only that, you worked in the accounting department, and with your other coworkers feeling burnout and calling out, that left you on your own to handle the numbers. There was a serious influx of information regarding insurance, supplies, wages…

It felt like it was never ending.

The timing couldn’t have been any worse, either, seeing as you had arranged to end your employment at your current agency to move to a new one at the end of the month.

Before the workload began to overwhelm you, you had started to feel that your boss may have been taking advantage of your work ethic. You had a knack for finishing your tasks in record time, which meant you had time to spare to either get ahead of schedule or do the work of someone else who had fallen behind. It didn’t take long for everyone to catch on and hand off their work to you instead of doing it themselves, but ever the team player, you took it on without complaint. Not once in three years did you complain, committing yourself to the company as much as you could.

Which was exactly why you had ended up stuck here with more than you could reasonably handle.

You leaned forward, resting your palms on your desk to try to stretch out the knots forming in your back.

One more week, and you’d finally be working for Gang Orca instead of stewing at this dump.

You had heard wonderful things about his agency; there were far better benefits than you were currently receiving and an employee turnover rate so low it was almost too hard to believe. Your friend had gushed to you about how much she enjoyed working there and even managed to get you the interview that landed you a spot on their financial team.

Unfortunately, that light at the end of the tunnel felt farther off than ever before with the amount of stress you were accruing with these late nights at the office.

You winced as you felt a satisfying pop in your lower back, bringing you some short-lived relief before you felt your shoulders protest and force you to sit straight again.

You heard a door open and close somewhere on your floor, making you curse to yourself.

The janitorial staff was here, meaning it was past 10.

You jumped when you heard a low rumbling come from your right, making you whine at your muscles complaining at the sudden movement. After getting over the initial shock, you realized it was your phone, which you kept in your drawer lately to keep yourself from getting distracted.

You were surprised the battery wasn’t dead yet.

You fished it out of your stuffed drawer, glad you were able to catch it on the final ring before it went to voicemail. You didn’t even check to see who was calling before answering.

“Hello?”

You internally kicked yourself at how tired you sounded.

“Hey.”

You felt some of your fatigue disappear at the sound of the calm voice on the other end.

“Shoto, hey. Is everything okay?” You asked, unable to even pretend you weren’t exhausted.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just got home.”

A relief, truly.

Being the son of the former number one hero of Japan brought Shoto a lot of attention, both good and bad. With crime on the rise, that meant his own work hours had increased, and while the extra money brought some comfort, you worried that he might overwork himself and get hurt.

Like you were one to talk.

“Good! That’s good.” You said, smiling tiredly as you quietly waved to the janitor that passed your desk.

“Yeah. Is everything okay with you?”

You paused, thinking of a way to answer that.

Shoto was a pro hero, and his job was infinitely more dangerous than yours. You knew that whatever difficulties you faced didn’t compare to anything he handled on a given day, so you tried to keep your complaining to a minimum. He knew about your job transfer, but you hadn’t been honest about the reason why. Your reasons felt trivial compared to a hero who goes out into danger most days.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just the usual. There was another call out today so I was the only one in the department. I’m just finishing up these balance sheets and then I’ll be home.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, but you thought nothing of it. Shoto was the type to think before he spoke, so these pauses were frequent.

“That’s really unfortunate, but I’m glad you’re almost done. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

You looked over at your computer’s clock, squinting to try to see the tiny numbers on the illuminated screen.

10:17

“I don’t know, maybe another half hour? And then the drive home will be another fifteen minutes, so probably close to an hour?” You estimated, rubbing your tired eyes.

“Alright. We’ll get started on dinner then.”

You tensed, feeling guilt wash over you.

You had planned to make dinner for you, Shoto, and Hitoshi when you arrived home, hoping to surprise them before they got off their own shifts. You hadn’t told them about it, but you felt awful that you didn’t get to do your good deed for your boyfriends as you had wanted.

“You guys don’t have to wait up for me, if you’re hungry, please go ahead and eat, Shoto. And if you’re tired you can just go to bed, I’m sure you had a long day.” You insisted with a roll of your neck.

“It’s okay, we don’t mind. I won’t keep you any longer. Just be safe on your way home, and we’ll see you when you get here.” He said.

You nodded, hiding your sigh. “I will be. I’ll see you when I get home.”

With some quick affectionate words, you hung up, groaning as you forced yourself to get out of your seat.

You were grateful that the elevator in your apartment building was functional again as you leaned against the wall, not paying attention to the number climbing with each floor you passed like you normally would. Your eyes were instead closed, listening to the familiar humming of the electricity running the car instead of the soft music playing from the speaker overhead. You had almost fallen asleep during your ride home in the cab, and you wanted to at least try to stay upright until you got to your floor.

Which seemed to be taking an eternity, if you were being honest.

You forced your eyes open, pulling out your phone to check the time.

11:08

You couldn't catch the heavy sigh that rolled out of your throat just before the door opened. The quick reprieve from walking had caused your legs to feel less like lead and more like concrete, which you tried to ignore as you fished for your keys in your pocket when you finally reached your door.

Your day was almost over.

The sound of the door unlocking was music to your ears as you pushed it open, dropping your bag on the floor so you could hold onto the counter to slip your shoes off.

You gasped when you felt something slide across your shoulder blade, jumping and whipping your head around to see a familiar pair of mismatched eyes looking back at you.

"Welcome home."

Your shoulders dropped along with your guard and you leaned forward, resting your face in the crook of Shoto's neck.

You could tell he'd already showered.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

You felt him shake his head, his arm moving down to trap you in a gentle hug that seemed to make the heaviness of your eyes disappear.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." He assured you, letting his thumb rub absently against your back. He made no move to pull away, and even though you felt like your ankles were going to give out at any moment, you weren't in any rush, either.

You moved your arms to wrap loosely around him as he tilted his head to kiss you briefly.

"How was your day?" You asked, pulling back to look at his face.

"Better than usual. I think things are getting ready to calm down." He responded.

That was good news.

"That's great. That means you'll be a little safer." You said, blinking as he turned you around and began pulling your coat off for you.

He hummed in affirmation as you pulled your arms out of the sleeves, allowing him to hang the coat up.

"And hopefully your workload will be lighter."

You made a face as you attempted to turn around to face him, but his hands on your round hips kept you rooted in your spot as he pulled you back to lean against his firm chest.

You tilted your head back to rest against his shoulders, feeling him tug on your blouse so it was no longer tucked in the waistband of your skirt. He slid his hand under the light fabric, resting his warm palm against the skin of your stomach.

You could tell he was using his quirk, and you weren't about to complain.

"The bath is ready."

You blinked and turned your head, seeing Hitoshi standing near the hallway, suspiciously still in his work clothes.

Shoto reluctantly pulled away.

"Come on." He said, leading you away from the door. "You need to get off your feet."

Hitoshi had refused to leave you alone while you bathed, and at first you thought it was because he was worried you'd fall asleep in the water, but you understood the real reason when he climbed into the tub first. He'd put off taking a shower in order to join you, which made you feel guilty for just a moment before he assured you that he was glad to finally have a calm moment with you. Your schedules didn't exactly line up lately, so more often than not, one of you was asleep when the other came home. 

Hopefully, that would soon come to an end and things could go back to normal.

You allowed him to comb his fingers through your hair as he worked the conditioner through it, doing your best not to doze off as they massaged your scalp. He'd been adamant about doing all the work, and you didn't have it in you to argue with him on a normal day.

"You're taking tomorrow off."

Your eyes snapped open, turning your head to look at him in disbelief.

"What?" You asked dumbly, looking at his calm face.

"I called your boss and let him know you're not going in tomorrow." He said casually, looking unbothered as he moved you so he could rinse your hair without getting the water in your eyes, but you gripped the side of the tub to stop him.

"Toshi, I can't, we're understaffed right now. I'm all they have right now." You protested, feeling your stomach churn anxiously. "Everyone else is sick."

"And you'll be next if you let them keep taking advantage of you." He said, unimpressed. He gently pried your hand off the edge of the tub, carefully tilting you to try to rinse your hair again, and this time you didn't fight him. "They all called out because they know you'll pick up the slack, and this is their last chance before you leave. You're starting somewhere else soon, and you're not going to make a good impression if you're too tired to move the day you get there." He lifted you back up, moving some wet hair off of your face. "So you're taking tomorrow off, and all three of us are going to be unproductive on purpose."

His tone left no room for argument.

You swallowed, still feeling unsure.

"Also, what's he going to do? Fire you? With a week left?"

You let a nervous laugh escape you, the last of your anxiety disappearing.

"Thank you, Hitoshi. I wouldn't have done it myself." You said, resting your back against him and letting your hands gently sit on the edges of the tub again.

His own hands moved to settle over yours.

"We know."

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled your attention away from Hitoshi and towards Shoto, who was wiping his hands with a hand towel.

"Dinner's ready."

The blend of being in clean clothes, well fed, and Shoto's warm hands working on heating your sore joints made you wonder how you had managed to stay awake. It was well past one in the morning, and somehow all three of you didn't seem close to sleeping. Instead, you had all made your way to the couch to get a headstart on your lazy day.

Your legs were currently draped across Shoto's lap, his hand currently rubbing at one of your knees, melting the stiffness away with almost no effort. Hitoshi had assumed the same position he had in the tub, arms caging you against him.

It felt like it had been a lifetime since the last time the three of you were in the same room together like this.

You were glad to be able to breathe again.

Your train of thought was effectively derailed when you felt heat crawl up your leg, making your leg jump instinctively. You tried to sit up, but Hitoshi's arms tightened around you, refusing to let you move. Your eyes darted up to look at him in confusion, and for a moment he looked back at you, but before you could ask him to let you get up, his mouth was on yours, and your request died in your throat.

You closed your eyes, sitting still as you felt warmth glide over the skin of your thigh before ducking under the hem of your shorts.

You counted yourself lucky to have found people who would take care of you when you couldn't.

[bonesandthebees]

Okay so, Stars (is there another abbreviation?) I finally got to read it after waiting a whole day cuz school. I love it. I love Wilbur and Tommy’s relationship. I love how the bickering is so natural Tommy almost starts yelling even though they need to be quiet because it’s just second nature.

Also, How dare you leave Niki even though it makes total sense that you needed to leave Niki. I do have a question. Did the guards know the code to let her out? Or only Dream/Eret? Cuz that’s something they could have done, but in the heat of the moment didn’t think of. Or would it pose too much risk since they need to instantly give them a new com and after the first ends? Actually, Niki would have probably made them do that if they knew. Like she would try, so she must know they don’t, right? (for the record, I think it’s very plausibly they are so focused on getting rid of the guards they forget to let them try and free Niki)

Then, the wind. You really went, go and relive your trauma, didn’t you? But they made it. And then the tension finally catches up to them. And we get a mini fight. Which really shows the stress Wilbur is under to try and save them. Because while Tommy does provide the vital info that allows them to prepare. Wilbur is really carrying this escape and it’s very annoying when people shoot down your ideas without providing any of their own even without it being your only option. Then add trying to talk yourself into an idea while someone else is trying to talk you out of it.

Still, Tommy is stressed too, but I’m not quite sure if he can see past to older brother he looks up to to see the amount of stress he’s under. Or maybe he’s just ignoring it for comfort. Nice detail. Tommy can only use his voice when Wilbur is actively in danger. Nice touch. The anxiety rush is so big it triggers it. Or maybe it’s the motivation.

P.S. Can’t wait for Zephys IV. When that info drops, I’m making you ramble.

-🌲

SPRUCE ANONNNN hi yes i just call it stars for short

lsdkjf thank you for saying you love the crimeboys dynamic, I really am having a lot of fun playing with their dynamic here because it's different from how i've written them before. this is the first time i've written them as being blood-related and having grown up together, so it creates a slightly different dynamic between the two of them compared to when i write them as found family. not by much! but there is a bit more room there for push and pull because they have a lifetime of familiarity with each other and know exactly how far they can push the other. it's a LOT of fun for me to play around with

also to answer this question (and a lot of people who have asked it) no! the guards at niki's door did not know the code to let her out. the reason being was that on the off chance the silencing feature on the barrier glitched out or something, niki would be able to use her Voice to make them let her out. obviously they didn't want that, so to negate that risk they made sure the guards she had didn't know the codes. so even if the boys thought of that, it wouldn't have worked. obviously though they were so panicked it didnt even cross their minds to try it

yesss sometimes when escaping a life or death situation you have to relive the trauma of seeing your mom die haha... god i'm putting these boys through so much. and I had a note written to myself to make sure to include a mini fight between the boys, because they are both under a LOT of stress, especially wilbur. he was bound to snap eventually, and it's not going to be the last time that happens. logically, tommy knows wilbur has to be just as terrified and stressed as he is, but in the same way you don't want to acknowledge that your parents might not know what to do in a terrifying situation, tommy doesn't want to accept that wilbur might not know what the hell he's doing. it's easier to trust that his older brother will keep him safe and that wilbur is not two seconds away from losing his shit, because if wilbur loses his shit tommy certainly won't know what to do. so yeah he's just. he's mostly ignoring that fact for his own comfort

and yeah tommy's use of the Voice is not going to be a thing we see a lot. he's really not good at the Voice, it's just something he can do if he's really desperate which usually equates to wilbur being in danger. he hasn't magically gotten better at it, it's mostly just adrenaline and desperation

[shini--chan]

Okay, I've been wracking my brain to think of an ask for you because I know your writing is fire, and I don't want to waste it! If the mood strikes you, can you write a little yandere Levi in a universe of your choosing or constructing? I'm sort of interested to see how you imagine him as a yandere 😊

Thx, fam!

As I told you once before, this is the ask that almost made me forfeit my principal of answering asks chronologically. :P

So, this will be my usual mix of headcanons and Imagines if you don’t mind, since I have a lot of thoughts on this man and just don’t want to stumble into the snare of writing a full length story … yet.

I’ ll also keep this general, since the universe any Levi fic is set in just changes the nuances, and not fundamental character traits.

Also, I have to remark that it is already too late for me - I’m hip deep in academia.  

Yandere Levi Ackerman  

Captain Levi is a very orderly person, it is part of his lifestyle and how he interacts with others and himself. It is something he is really strict about and he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hygiene in a lover. To him, there is nothing less disgusting than poor body hygiene and should you start slacking off in anyway when it comes to taking care of yourself, a very fundamental aspect, then he won’t shy away from taking matters in his own hands.

You gasped as a bucket of water was frigidly emptied over head and you threw yourself out as your bed, expecting your assailant to have lunged onto you, should you have remained there.

Instead, he was standing right in front of you.

Somewhat shyly, you looked up into Levi’s pale face and sneered at the accursed object that he was holding in his hand. He sneered right back at you, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards in disgust. A rather uncommon display of extreme emotion on his part, for being a commonly stoic man.

“Get up!”, he curtly barked to which you stiffly groaned. Sloppily, you got up, still groggy from being rudely awoken and not in the best mood because of it. The water running in rivulets down your body and made your sleep wear cling to your skin didn’t help either.

“What was that for?”, you whined, completely oblivious as to why he was being so imperious to you. What had you done to warrant such poor treatment?

“Don’t get cheeky now, little brat. You didn’t shower last night and went all sweaty to bed. You deserved what I did to you now.”

Him being orderly isn’t restricted to personal cleanliness, it is also about how disciplined a person is with themselves. Having had to live in harsh environments for his whole life, he is a firm believer in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. That also means that should you suffer from any mental disorder, trauma induction or not, he wouldn’t be very understanding. Not that he wouldn’t be concerned about your broken state of mind, rather he wouldn’t see how being kind and coddling you would fix it.

“You know brat, if you would stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, your life would start getting damn better”, he snarled at your cowered form.

Hunched over the table, you had elected to grab a beer to numb the pain that was ravaging your heart. Watching people die never became easy, especially when they were close to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you begged and raised the tankard to your mouth again. Yet before the wooden rim could touch your lips, it was shamelessly ripped away from you. Levi’s sharp grey eyes were honed on you, the fire of anger dancing in them. Just why did he have to play judge now of all times?

“No, you look like shit and you’re talking shit. Moping around wouldn’t make anything better you idiot. You need to your act together, not get piss drunk.” 

Furthermore, he needs to be in control. As soon as he feels like his vice-like grasp over reality is slipping, he does what all people do that are losing their power – he scrambles to re-attain it. And he doesn’t hesitate to utilize violence. On top of that he sees respect given, as power given, so he demands the piety that his position ought to give him.  It doesn’t matter that you’re his lover, if anything you ought to give him his due. Rows with him are literally the worst – be prepared to be swept of your feet! 

Roughly, you were slammed against the wall in a manner that knocked the wind out of your lungs with a crude sound. It was followed by a gasp as your ears rang from your skull having banged against the stone and your muscles and bones ached.

“What did you just say?”, Levi snarled, a rare look of utter rage on his handsome face. You knew it was a rhetorical question, he had heard you the first time around. But you were too steep in your own anger to not push your luck.

“Don’t be like that, darling”, you spat the last word as if it were poison in your mouth. Warranted actually, since you had been coerced and tricked into this relationship. “I said that maybe you should take a leave out of your superior’s book because all your shortcomings make you unbearable to be a runt. Somehow, I doubt that would work, though – you’ll always remain a sewer rat at heart.”

A wrong move – those handsome features contorted to something utterly ghastly.

“You know we wouldn’t have such problems if you could control that attitude of yours. And if you would show me respect”, he hissed as he pressed you further against the wall, so that you were sandwiched between stone and muscles to a painful degree. The hands grasping you by the front of your clothing didn’t help either.

Lips twisting into a snarl of your own, you countered: “Respect is supposed to be earned, Captain. I will only respect you if you respect me.” You were really insistent on digging yourself your own grave, weren’t you?

“You’re much prettier if you keep that mouth of yours shut.

“Consider the feeling to be mutual, brat. Why should I give you any respect if you won’t give me any? And remember, I’m above you, so I don’t owe you anything. You owe me the world.”

Levi also has a strict set of rules that he expects you to follow to the dot. A fair warning, however, he may change the one or the other spontaneously and not inform you of it until you’re bent over his desk. Also, it is common knowledge that he endorses corporal punishment and celebrates pain as a prim method to install discipline. He really thinks that bad behaviour can be beat out of somebody. He is also exceptionally cruel with his punishments. This can be traced back to how he was desensitized to violence at a relatively early age and revels in have people submit to him.

You had barely set foot in his study when he looked up from his paperwork and ordered you: “Come over here, and bend over the desk.”

Shocked by his harsh words, you nevertheless complied. You knew that resistance would only make matters worse. Still, as you bend over and pressed your cheek against the cool oak you asked: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Briefly, he stopped rummaging through the chest that stood by the window and glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you serious? Don’t you already know? And I though you weren’t so goddamn stupid”, he snapped.

Finally, having found what he was searching for, he turned towards you again. There was a semi-bored expression gracing his visage as he drawled: “I told you a thousand times before, pet. When you are finished with your afternoon chores you are to come directly to me. No chit-chat with somebody else, no fooling about and yet you disobey me again and again. Your ears really are just for decoration.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he carelessly cut you off: “I don’t care if they are your friends, you don’t need them. You just need me.”

Upon that you fell silent and closed your eyes in hopelessness as you waited for your punishment to commence. When do pain came after a minute of silence you dared to open your eyes and glance back.

Seeing that you were focused on him, Levi cleared his throat as if to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Then you remember and with a great amount of shame you bared your bottom and meekly requested: “Please Levi, my love, spank me thoroughly.”

As usual, it sickened you that he made you ask to be punished. It was his way of normalizing and justifying his abuse. And conditioning you.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he grabbed you by the nap as he pressed you against his desk. “There is a good little pet”, he whispered as leather made contact with your supple flesh. 

This man has a difficult time warming up to people. All the agony of losing those that meant the world to him repeatedly has caused him to become cold and reserved. That means that in his mind, you should view it as a privilege that you are the love of his life. Because of that, he won’t accept rejection. Also, since he hasn’t had somebody really close to him in ages, he will be very clingy and overprotective. The world has the habit of robbing him, so you won’t allow you to be stolen as well. Not to forget that he is a man of action – being passive or also relying on words to solve situations just isn’t his style. 

Your skin was on fire due to his ministrations, or rather because of the disgust they evoked. The arm around your waist that pressed you against him made you want to claw at his skin and his lips against the tender skin of your neck made you want to throttle him.

Yet you knew that it was just wishful thinking. Engaging in such protest would be futile since he was stronger and quicker than you.

“Look here Levi, I told you…”, you tried to reason with him but he just silenced your objection:

“Shush, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Then he resumed kissing your neck and collar bone, sometimes tugging at your skin with teeth in order to cause bruises. You tensed as his free hand snaked down your leg and hooked itself under your knee.

The captain is a military man and fairly intelligent. He knows how to deal with an enemy, how to assess their strengths and weaknesses and how to keep them contained. And also, how to best combat them and capture them. He really is the worst opponent you could meet on the battlefield.

So how to evade him? You take him off the battlefield, place him in a situation where aggression can’t help him achieve his goals. He is a military man, as said before, so he is accustomed to low context communication – words must be direct, and you must mean what you say so that they are no muck-ups. Little conversation and more orders and demands. Levi doesn’t have a silver tongue to begin with, quite the contrary actually.

That means he cares a bit for codes, since they are of use to him in his branch of expertise. But he cares little for symbolism since he has categorised that as sappy nonsense reserved for romantics. So, you have an avenue to express yourself that he won’t catch up on unless somebody explicitly told him what it meant. Consider yourself lucky, it is exactly this that will prevent you from going insane.

“Flowers? Again?”, he gruffly asked.

It made you look up from the novel you were reading to see him eyeing the tansy and peonies that you had placed in a vase on the nightstand.

You had to suppress a smirk and work to keep the self-satisfaction out of your voice as you meekly inquired: “They are there to give a bit more colour to the room. I can always put them away if you want.”

You were being obedient to him for a change and that was why he decided to allow you a few luxuries. Besides, since you were so affectionate in the past two months, why shouldn't he return it with gestures of his own.

“Keep them. I’ll just never understand why you like them so much”, he answered and then stalked over to the bathroom. Of course he would never comprehend it, with his spartan and austere tastes, just like you would never understand that the small yellow flowers meant ‘I declare war on you!’ or that the orange lilies that had been there a few days ago actually proclaimed your hatred for him.

Hopefully, he would never find out.

Intelligence doesn’t automatically mean that he is omnipotent or that he is an all-powerful overlord. It just means that he is quick to comprehend tactics and strategies and devise his own. He isn’t immune to mistakes. So, when he ropes you in, in his games, you have to play a wholly different game of your own if you want to get out. Military, remember? There are many walks of life that he is unfamiliar with, many possibilities for you to escape his clutches that he wouldn’t even account for.

Giddily, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself, with all the paint and heavy cloth that decorated your body. Levi didn’t either, just how it was supposed to be.

You had spotted him in the audience as you had pranced about the stage, looking very disgruntled at not having you by his side or locked up in his quarters. Even you had heard the rumours of how a few days ago he had flown into a frenzy, searching high and low for something.

You were one of the few that knew it was someone and that someone was you. Knowing him as well as you did, you made the fair guess that he also wasn’t here by his own volition, rather his comrades had dragged him here in an attempt to distract him.

And you also knew that had looked everywhere he presumed you to be – in the forest, somewhere tucked away in his estate, in the taverns and at the city borders and at the docks. Just not amongst the theatre troop.

That would probably stay that way, and you could use the opportunity to escape him.  

Adding to the fact that he is bad at expressing himself like a normal human being, he is also very emotional underneath that stoic veneer. In combat situations, he has an outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Else you have to suffer his outbursts and mood swings. Nonetheless, the world isn’t a gigantic battlefield and if the right buttons are pushed, he could lose it at exactly the wrong time and place. Levi would lose badly at the game favoured in the royal courts of provoking-the-other-until-they-embarrass-themselves.

Levi was very close to unleashing his unholy rage and as a precaution, you had taken to stepping out of range. While you found the whole situation very amusing, you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“…however, since you come short on some things, I don’t expect you to understand that. Should I repeat what I said, in bitesize chunks  so that you don’t lag behind this time”, the nobleman prattled while he looked down on your “lover”.

Said man pressed through gritted teeth: “You filthy swine, go stuff all your pretty words up your ass.”

The noble emitted a fake gasp and murmured aghast: “You really are so crass. The rumours of you being a dwarf barbarian are true.”

That was the last straw for Levi. In the following minutes, a small crowd gathered to see what the commotion was all about and it ended in the guards having to restrain him. Really, it was hypocritical of the Ackerman to threaten you about causing a scene when he was the one prone to temper tantrums.

[savagesbonergarage]

Nightsister OC pics and backstory ❤️

So I kinda got my Nightsister oc worked out today!

Meet Eilantha!

No makeup and with makeup since I like both. :) I know her outfit is Rey’s, but it turned out to be the one I liked best after going through all of them. This was so much fun to do! I’m on mobile rn so I don’t have a link, but search ‘rinmaru star wars avatar creator’ and it should be the first result.

The nightbrother is also an oc called Sever. He’s more bulky in my head and his tattoos are different and more brown than black, but whatevs. Also he looks more like a teenager here, which is NOT the vibe, lads. Mans is in his late 20's-early 30's. 👍

I know I’m sorta biased and all since she’s mine, but I’m in love with her? I’m not a huge fan of the Nightsisters and their misandry and general terrible-ness, but this girl is the exception. 💕 Learn more about her under the cut if you’d like. :)

She was born in 46BBY, making her around 27 in the final year of the clone wars. From the time she was a youngling it was clear that she had a natural affinity for magicks and spellcasting, which allowed her to participate in more advanced rituals and rites from an early age. This inevitably caused some contention among the sisters in her age group that felt this privilege was wasted on her, and therefore she had few friends during her time within the coven. She didn’t really mind, as she preferred to spend her days on her own anyway, learning as much as she could about whatever she fancied (usually spells that piqued her interest whose texts she discreetly snuck from within the cavern).

When she wasn’t studying, she loved music - writing, playing, and singing. It wasn’t anything like the typical malicious sounds of tribal chanting and drums you’d hear from within the grotto; not that she didn’t appreciate that also as she practiced it well, but her heart leaned toward a softer, more soothing genre of arias and melodies, bordering on lullabies based on her wanderlust, and, though she’d never admit it, her loneliness.

As she reached adulthood, she underwent the trials for her dark baptism as all Sisters did, which consisted of returning from a challenging hunt to add a token from her kill to the Water Of Life, and receiving her ichor tattoos that signified her coming-of-age before being ritualistically bathed in the ominous liquid which sanctioned her as an active member of the Nightsisters.

After this, I have two different routes (or however many, depending on who I’m shipping her with at the moment 😅 bc I ship her with everyone, no lie) that I like to take with her story. The first is expanded upon in the fic by @fallenrepublick here (still my favorite thing!) where she starts sneaking away into the nightbrother village and befriends Savage and Feral before they go through Asajj’s selection trails. This is the nicer, less-traumatic arc.

This next one gets really, really dark. I'm not going to post it all here bc honestly this post doesn't need all that angst, so I'll save that for later. Essentially, I like to think that Eilantha did at one time have a nightbrother of her own (Sever) that she actually loved, rather than treated as a slave. As you can imagine it doesn't end well, but we're not gonna get into that. We'll talk about how they meet. :)

Instead of sneaking away to the village, Eilantha is pressured into conducting her own selection trails by Mother Talzin. She doesn’t inherently have any reason to object, after all, she was taught that this is was simply the way of things. Part of her even looked forward to obtaining a manservant, whose loyalty would belong to her and her alone.

Perhaps he’d be a useful asset when it came to sneaking spelltomes to and from the vaults, and maybe he’d even be the only one staying by her side while she practiced her songs. What if he’d even appreciate them? Not that he’d have much of a choice, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

From the moment she stepped foot in the village, all she could focus on was the feeling of the uneasy and fearful gazes of the men who undoubtedly knew more of what was to come than she did. She chose her roster at random, unsure of what she should have really been looking for or what she actually wanted from a servant. Even before the fighting, she knew deep down that she didn’t want to inflict any unnecessary harm on them…but why? From what she’d overheard at home, the violence was half the fun.

It wasn’t.

She evaded and blocked every blow with ease, yet avoided retaliating and taking the offensive in any manner that would prove fatal, causing the battle to go on far longer than anticipated to the point where Brother Viscus insisted that she take the next opening for the kill. With reluctance, the blade of her weapon collided with the ribs of the next brother to reveal himself a target. She watched in horror as the light faded from his hateful, reflective eyes, and she was nearly sick. She didn’t want to do it, but it had been done, and it couldn’t be undone. His body thudded against the ground and she screamed.

“Enough!”

The battlefield went silent, and as she came to her senses she attempted to save face.

“I’ll have none of them!”

Before Brother Viscus could interject with any alternative propositions, she was gone. She ran, fleeing as far away across the rocky terrain as she could. She didn’t cry; at least not until she was certain she was alone. She felt so pathetic - Nightbrothers were meant to be disposable, yet she couldn’t handle killing one. Her shame shifted into heartbreak, and she crouched low and wept for the death of the brother she’d just caused, as well as for all those who came before him. All the needless, thankless, mindless deaths of these men whose lives may not have mattered to the Sisters, but they mattered to someone.

As night fell, she trudged along the jagged landscape and thought of what explaination she’d give to Mother Talzin upon returning home. She had run in the opposite direction of where her speeder was stationed at the base of the village, so she had plenty of time to consider on the long journey back. She casually hummed a tune to herself in some meager attempt to self-soothe, which served to distract the shadow that had been trailing her for some time. The sound of a twig snapping in the rocks behind her alerted her to the presence and she confronted him.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a derogatory tone after he revealed himself.

"I'm not."

Of course not, this was his home, after all. She couldn't say the same for herself, however, she pressed him further.

"Then why are you following me? I never asked for an escort."

The amber-skinned nightbrother looked as though he were choosing his words carefully, though if his aim was self-preservation he'd done a terrible job of it.

"I saw you crying."

Eilantha was hit with a pang of embarrassment, though she feigned otherwise as her eyes met the ground.

"Well, you can forget what you saw. Now leave me alone."

She turned away, but the brother remained there in quiet contemplation before he spoke again.

"I've never seen a Sister cry. I've never seen a Sister feel."

Something about those words struck her directly in her heart. The confirmation that she was inherently considered to be a heartless monster in the view of these villagers hurt a little more than anticipated, though she had no right to refute it. No amount of apologies would ever remedy the divide that separated the Nightsisters from the Nightbrothers, regardless of how she felt. She clenched her fist as she turned to face him again.

“I said, leave me alone. Don’t make me-”

She actually choked on her words, unable to say the rest.

Don’t make me put you in your place.

Despite her partial warning, the nightbrother stepped closer. He grabbed the edge of his already tattered tunic and tore a piece of it off, inspecting it for cleanliness before holding it out to her. Eilantha froze, uncertain of what to make of this interaction.

“You aren’t done,” he explained.

She hadn’t realized that her hot tears continued pouring down her cheeks during her retort. She accepted the cloth with some reluctance, her dainty fingers lightly brushing against his as she took it and dabbed it against her wet face. He promptly turned and started walking away, as instructed. This strange...kindness, or rather, strange act of servitude via obligation perturbed the young witch, whose thoughts were now fixated solely on the zabrak male.

“Wait, Brother,” she implored.

He paused, resuming his attention to her after hearing the endearing use of “brother” from a Sister’s lips for the first time. She continued, an unusual softness in her tone.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Sever,” he revealed, “May I ask yours, Sister?”

She repeated his name in her mind, determined never to lose it.

“Eilantha.”

He did the same, only out loud. Gods, it was an enticing sound.

"Will you be returning?"

This was a question she wasn't prepared to receive, and one that she herself didn't fully know the answer to. Her reply was engineered from a concerned sigh.

"I'm not sure. It might be problematic returning to the coven empty-handed. I may come back, I may not. I don't know what the future holds."

Sever pursed his lips slightly.

"If you do find yourself here again, will you..."

He coughed into his fist and centered himself before continuing.

"Will you consider me?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his hopeful gaze, a golden yellow in the night. She had a hunch as to what he was alluding to, but a little clarification was needed.

"Consider you...?"

He swallowed, his countenance displaying concern that perhaps he was stepping too far out-of-bounds this time, but he wanted to know all the same.

"As your mate."

Eilantha clutched the piece of fabric in her hand. This man was offering himself to her. The images of all the nightbrothers staring her down when she first arrived with fear in their faces raced through her mind, revealing the dread the men felt when they were met with her kind, and yet this one was volunteering. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry, as any other Sister likely would be at a savage that dared to seek special permissions. Of course, she wasn't like that.

Imagining him as her mate, however, was certainly...something. She thought of how she would discover just how much of him was tattooed and he would learn the same of her. She could claim him right then and there if she wanted, and he would be obliged to obey. It would solve her worries about returning home if she decided on a servant after all, although, her soul was unsteady. Though she was entitled to any male she desired, she couldn't allow herself to do it. Even though this man was offering, it would weigh on her conscience knowing that even a part of him would only be with her out of fear and obligation, rather than his own free will. This nightbrother wasn't free. None of them were.

"I'll consider it," she replied genuinely.

This news seemed to please him to some extent, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of his lip.

"I'll look forward to the possibility of serving you, Sister Eilantha."

She watched as he turned a final time and disappeared further into the darkness, leaving her alone with her busied mind.

The course was set for the Nightsister temple once she finally got to her speeder, servant-less. She looked over her shoulder to see multiple pairs of glowing golden eyes quizzically prying at her in the darkness, and she smiled before taking off.

It was a long journey home, and the entire trip her mind was occupied with thoughts of the intriguing zabrak male who saw her for what she truly was. She pulled out the tattered cloth from her pocket and pressed it against her chest as the wind rushed all around her before bringing it to her lips and kissing it.

It became her greatest treasure.

That is, until she finally had the real deal in her arms months later when the separation became too much to bear, and they arranged to meet in secret during their first rendezvous of many.

Sever, my treasure.

[blueeyedheizer]

sound of metal - matt

WARNING: might contain some triggering topics (talks of surgery, hearing loss)

A/N: this movie was so beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time I had to write something based on it. (excuse the crappy ending) If you haven't seen sound of metal...go watch it nowww

•••

Matt had been acting strange lately. Wether it was during sound check or while you were performing in front of a crowd, he seemed off and completely out of it everytime you shot a glance his way.

Today wasn't any different and you were starting to grow seriously worried. You and your band were performing in front of your biggest crowd yet; the band was getting more and more recognition and people were quick to spread the word about your small tour. It even got to the point where people would take pictures with you and buy your merch after the show. Quite frankly, everything was going well and it was a dream come true.

But when you looked at Matt, it seemed like he wasn't handling things as well as you did. At first, you thought that it might only be stage fright. You weren't really used to such big venues, and it would've made sense that he feels some kind of discomfort in front of an important audience. Yet he never spoke to any of you about it, and you knew he would've at least told you if that was the case.

So when you looked over your shoulder in the middle of the fourth song and caught sight of him you immediately sensed that once again, something wasn't right. He looked almost terrified, you could tell his breathing was heavy and that it wasn't just because of the drums. You tried to contain your worry and focus on your singing, but you kept a mental note to talk to him after the show. You couldn't just sit there and keep pretending everything was alright when he was clearly hiding something from you.

But before you even had the time to move on from your thoughts Matt suddenly stormed out of the stage, his drumsticks falling to the floor while he pushed a few people on his way out. Your heart pounded hard against your chest as you were hit with a wave of anxiety, then with a small apology to the crowd and a worried glance at your bandmates you followed him.

Within seconds you were bursting through the back doors, running after him.

"Matt! Matthew, what the hell?" you called, running to his side. He was bent down, hands resting on his knees as he panted hard. You placed your hands on his shoulders and he eventually stood up straight before leaning against the fence. "Baby, what's wrong?" you placed your hands on his cheeks, your thumbs stroking his skin as your eyes searched for his.

"I can't hear anything." he admitted, voice cracking.

"What?"

"I can't hear anything."

-

You just picked at your food, not hungry due to how anxious you felt. You could barely register anything else than the sound of your heartbeat, the sounds of muffled talking, plates and glasses clinking from the restaurant being completely drowned out by your nagging thoughts.

"What are we gonna do?" James eventually spoke up.

"I don't know James. I really don't know." you put your fork down and buried your face in your hands, finally letting a few tears slip. You leg was bouncing repeatedly, heart beating a million miles a minute. After taking a deep breath, you grabbed the pen and paper that were in front of you and wrote something down.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" you slid the paper across the table so that Matt could read it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I didn't want you to worry about it. It's nothing. It'll come back eventually." he said, but you were far from satisfied with his answer. You squeezed your eyes shut.

"What did the doctor say?" once again, you slid the paper across the table.

"There's a surgery. An implant. It's— it's expensive but I'll get it."

"Y/N, there's no way he'll be able to afford it." James whispered. You glanced at him and nodded, knowing damn well you'd never be able to earn so much money in such a short amount of time. You were just a small band, earning a salary worth of such surgery would take an excessive amount of work and time. Noticing the worried look on everyone's face, Matt broke the silence and grabbed your hand.

"Look— we'll play tomorrow and see how it's like. It'll come back. It's fine baby, my hearing's not completely gone. okay? I can do it." Matt said, and you shook your head.

"No."

"We have a tour booked."

"Matt, it's not safe." you tried to reason with him as more tears welled in your eyes.

"We have a tour booked, Y/N, I'll just deal with it, I can do it!"

"No, Matt. We can't." you removed your hand from his hold.

"It'll come back!"

"For God's sakes Matt, it's not safe!" you finally raised your voice, fist colliding with the table as you flopped back against your seat. Your bandmates flinched and some waitresses and customers turned to you, thinking a fight had broke out. You apologized quietly, not even loud enough for any of them to hear before grabbing the pen.

"We're not finishing the tour. You can barely hear a word we're saying. We're not finishing it." you put the pen down and got up, gathering your things before turning to James and Alex. "I'll call the manager and see what we can do."

And with that, you left the dinner without a word.

-

Fortunately, your manager was very understanding of the situation and helped you with everything you needed. He got you in contact with a friend of his who ran a small community in which Matt would be able to attend meetings and learn sign language.

You called the man immediately after finishing the call with your manager, wanting to get this done as soon as possible. You were hit with a wave of relief when he told you he would be more than willing to welcome Matt, as long as he complied with the rules that were imposed there. But getting Matt to understand that this wasn't just a small hearing loss and that he needed help was another story.

"I'm not going, Y/N. God, it— it doesn't even bother me that much! I can still play!" he said and you shook your head, lowering it afterwards. You had never seen him so agitated, and no matter how hard he tried to convince you that he was okay, you could see right through him. His hearing loss was in fact bothering him, he just wouldn't admit it. "Baby I know our songs by heart, we could just—"

"Matt, stop. Just stop." you interrupted him. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes and it was getting harder to hold them back. He scoffed, burying his hands in his hair.

"Matt. Please. Just look at me." you placed your index finger under his chin, forcing him to look at you. "The most important thing right now is to preserve the hearing you have left. Okay?" your hand slid to his cheek, wiping a tear before pecking his lips. "I love you so much, baby. And that's why I'm not leaving you the choice. We're cancelling the tour, and you're going to let these people take care of you." you told him, making sure to speak clearly.

-

-time skip-

Those 6 months spent away from him were hard. The members of the community he was in all lived in one house together with no contact to the outside world - which meant no phones allowed. It was a rule that you had agreed on committing to, but you hadn't anticipated how awfully long these months would actually be. Performing without him was something you couldn't get used to. You had found a new drummer for the time he was gone, but it was different. You were so used to Matt's energy, his way of playing, and the boy was nothing like him. He was really nice and Alex and James seemed to get along well with him, but this band wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Matt, therefore performing his songs without him felt wrong.

You had no idea what the future was going to look like, wether it was regarding the band or your relationship. You had no idea how Matt was doing. For all you knew he could be at his lowest point and you weren't there for him. Or maybe he was having an amazing time, and you couldn't shut off this nagging voice in the back of your head that kept telling you he might've met someone new.

-

You were walking home from work, looking forward to leave this long day behind you and get some well deserved rest. You greeted your dad and was about to make your way to your room, but his voice stopped you in your tracks before you could leave.

"Y'a Matt qui t'attends dans ta chambre." (Matt's waiting for you in your room.)

"Quoi?" (What?)

"Il est arrivé y'a une heure ou deux. Je lui ait dit de rester là en attendant que t'arrives." (He arrived about an hour or two ago. I told him to stay there and wait for you.)

You tried to contain your excitement in front of him, but your heart felt like it was about to burst inside your chest.

"Okay, cool. Merci."

With that, you left the kitchen and made your way upstairs hurriedly, heart beating faster with every step you took.

Finally, you opened the door to your room and your eyes immediately caught Matt's figure. He was sitting on your bed, a book in hands as he waited for you. You stayed at the door for a small instant, grinning warmly as he looked up, allowing you to finally make eye contact.

"Hi. Can you hear me?"

Matt set the book down and nodded, then you walked over to him, standing between his legs. You cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, taking in all of him. His hair was a bit longer than the last time you had seen him.

"I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too."

You leaned in and pressed your lips together for the first time in five months, your hands sliding to the back of his head as the kiss deepened. You pulled away after a little less than a minute, catching your breath.

"What are you doing here? How— how did you afford it?" you asked a bit awkwardly, referring to his surgery as you noticed the implants on his ear.

"I had to sell my stuff." he shugged. "Guitars, synth, my car. Anything I could find, really." he chuckled sadly, lowering his head. Your face dropped at his words and a small silence settled in the room before he broke it with the smallest voice. "I'm sorry."

"Hey...there's nothing to apologise for." you said, lifting his chin up to peck his lips once again. He shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with you as tears welled up in his eyes. Then he climbed further up the bed silently, his back now resting against the headboard. You followed, situating yourself next to him.

"I ruined everything. The tour, the band, us." Everything."

"You didn't ruin anything. You couldn't control what happened, Matt. You know that." you tried to comfort him, scratching the back of his head with your fingertips. He scoffed a bit at your answer, still avoiding eye-contact.

"I can't get back to drumming, Y/N. I can never go back to how my life was before."

There was a pause before he finally dared to look at you. His eyes were red from holding back tears, cheeks streaked and flushed, the sight causing your face to visibly soften. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead you looked down, fidgeting with the ring on your index finger and the room went silent. You knew things would never be the same, but you still took the news like a bullet. A couple more seconds passed and you took a small breath before climbing onto his lap gently.

A bitter, sad smile curved on your lips as you looked at him, hands cupping both sides of his head, gently rubbing your thumbs and occasionally wiping a few tears from his cheeks while you fought with great difficulty to hold yours in. First you kissed his forehead then you rested yours against it, noses brushing.

"I love you." you whispered, closing your eyes as you felt a tear escape and roll down your cheek. "I love you so much."

You pulled away just a bit and signed "I love you" to him in sign language to emphasise your words. He signed it back to you and you wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest as you mumbled comforting words, your hands rubbing his back and hair soothingly as you cried silently.

[jungnoir]

hello!! truth be told, i am not entirely certain if your requests are open and stuff, if they aren't, please forgive me, it's honestly my first time requesting so i'm really worried that i am gonna mess up, please don't hate me :((( do you think there's a chance that you'll write some youngk or wonpil fluff (or rival!au,,, or anything would be great,,, honestly) any time soon? if not, that's totally okay, i hope i didn't bother you, thank you regardless and have a great day!!

anatomically correct heart-shaped pretzel;

kim wonpil | food service is way more competitive and romantic than you’d think, believe it or not. rival!au. mall!au. | 1.6k words. | fluff, humor.

a/n: ahhh you’re okay!!! thank you for being so polite. I’m not officially accepting requests as I’m sort of just writing whenever I want to and dropping in. usually, I will announce that I’m writing requests on my blog and leave it open for a certain amount of time. however, I’m being pretty casual with things so I totally don’t mind this request at all! here’s rival kiosk workers at the mall with wonpil

“He’s at it again. Look at him; he’s got an evil look in those puppy dog eyes, that dead customer service smile, that high-pitched “have a good day!” pep in his step. I want to wring his neck like a Shake Weight.”

Your coworker, Dowoon, pauses in the middle of refilling the fruity pebbles toppings to give you a disturbed look, “Okay, Jesus. What is wrong with you?”

You glare right back, “It’s fucking pretzel boy Wonpil showing off again.”

“You mean doing his job?”

Grumbling a “showing off” under your breath, you turn around again to continue your angry brooding when you happen to catch Wonpil’s eyes between serving customers. His friendly smile quickly turns malicious, the boy having the audacity to drop his eyelid down in a wink before going about his business again, annoyingly unbothered by your seething not 20 feet away.

Dowoon was convinced that you were paranoid. Ever since that new pretzel kiosk popped up next to your once very thriving frozen yogurt shop, you’d been noticing business trailing elsewhere. People were trading gummy bears for salty bread and Wonpil’s “personable” attitude, something that you couldn’t quite get over. He wasn’t personable at all. You knew the real truth and yet no one believed you.

It had all started two months back when they’d first opened. You had thought Wonpil to look actually pleasant to talk to, deciding to befriend your new competition to be friendly which, unfortunately, massively backfired. Perhaps you were too bubbly, too optimistic on the first go, because Wonpil seemed to immediately bristle upon greeting. That was your first sign that things were going steadily downhill.

Your next sign was how aware you were that you were dominating the conversation. It seemed like no matter how much you tried to fish out of Wonpil, he wouldn’t budge. His answers were short, blunt, and disconcerting to say the least. After a few failed attempts, you’d promptly agreed with yourself that perhaps Wonpil was just one of those people who went to work, did their job, and left it at that. But then the customers came rolling in.

He was a totally different guy, the bastard.

Everything. From the way he lit up to the way his voice rose several octaves to the way he laughed out loud at every terrible customer joke. It was a pang to your admittedly offended heart. Was there something wrong with you? Did you smell? Was he just having a bad day earlier? It had thrown you pretty off for the rest of your shift, even catching the attention of one of your other usually aloof co-workers: Sungjin.

You just couldn’t place it. You obviously didn’t want to think he simply disliked you and only you, but it was all you had to go on. Why was he so averse to you when you’d done nothing to him? ...as far as you knew, anyway.

He was even nice to Dowoon! What did Dowoon have that you didn’t?!

And then, then, Wonpil started to notice you, but for all the wrong reasons.

It was through knowing smirks and condescending winks that you began to kindle your delicate hatred-baby for Wonpil. He knew he was peeving you off. He knew that when you’d watch him with that barely veiled look of yearning in your eyes for acceptance that he could simply look your way and you’d fluster. He wasn’t kind. He was a jerk. Wonpil was an absolute asshole and no one seemed to think so except you.

Your co-workers called it a friendly rivalry. You called it war.

He was super keen on stealing your customers too, drawing them in from your shop to get them to buy those damn pretzels, just to see you squirm and fumble to turn their attention back. When he’d win, he’d get this smug look on his face and gnaw his bottom lip with a hooded gaze cast your way, practically relishing in your anger and humiliation. You’d dreamt of all the ways you could make that little pipsqueak sing for mercy-

“Hey! Can you do your job or do I need to stand you on the other side of the counter as a cardboard cutout?” Dowoon’s annoyance is not easy to ignore even in the midst of your daydream, and unfortunately, that meant that you would have to come back to your reality. Your cold, Wonpilly reality.

With a lack of vigor that could rival a pubescent boy in band practice, you continue your shift in a disgruntled haze. You don’t want to think you’re being childish about it, but you can often feel Wonpil’s eyes on you while you work, and it’s enough to make you rightfully paranoid. You know the minute you look up that he’s going to have some patronizing expression on his face and, honestly, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back from punching it clean off. Only fifteen more minutes, you think to yourself, counting down til the end of your shift. Fifteen more minutes and then I’m out of here.

Dowoon eventually leaves early, mentioning he has a date tonight and that he doesn’t want to be late, and you mumble an affirmative to clean and lock up for him. You’ve got no such plans for the evening, instead planning to relax and enjoy the weekend Wonpil-free. As customers slow to almost nothing, you decide it’s a good time to start closing up.

As you’re sweeping away the debris on the floor, you hear the sound of a fist knocking against glass and decide to look up, ready to shoo away a customer who came too late. Instead of a customer, it’s something much worse.

“Hey,” Wonpil says, one hand in his puffy jacket pocket, the other holding a small take-away bag from the pretzel place, “heading out tonight?”

You’re so stunned by his attempt at casual conversation that you forget to be mean, staring at him in confusion, “Uh... no. Why?”

Wonpil looks both relieved and surprised, clutching the bag a little closer to himself, “Oh... uh, well it’s just that... you know, it’s Valentine’s day. I assumed you had a date.”

Your brain is a Windows blue screen right now. Was it... oh, fuck, how could you have missed it? Today was February the 14th. You flush soon after. No, you had no date. “Nope... but I bet you do. If you came here to gloat about it, don’t even bother. I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”

A look of hurt flashes across Wonpil’s visage, “I didn’t... that’s not why I came over.”

“Then why?” You can’t hide the tired exasperation in your voice, “You closed up already, didn’t you? Just go home. I’m not in the mood.”

That same hurt flashes again and part of you almost wants to feel bad about it. 

Wonpil reaches into the bag with a trembly bottom lip, “I-I came over to apologize. And to give you this.”

In his hand now is a heart shaped pretzel, but not just the traditional heart shape. No, it was anatomically correct. Scarily so. It was also piping hot and looked rather tasty after a long day of work. You rarely indulged yourself in the enemy’s goods, but... “What do you mean, apologize?”

“I uh... I kinda totally screwed up. The thing is, I don’t hate you like you think I do. I actually really like you. I know that I don’t show it and it’s not much of an excuse, but it’s just... when I first met you, I was really, really nervous. You were so kind and funny and attractive... I froze up,” your eyes begin to bulge as he holds the pretzel out to you, “and I couldn’t act normally around you. Then people started saying we were rivals so I ran with it. Anything to get you to look at me.”

You check Wonpil’s face to see if he’s lying. He’s not, as far as you can tell, but you’d been a bad judge of his character before, “That’s really stupid, Wonpil.”

Instead of looking upset however, he laughs lightheartedly... like you’d kinda hoped he would laugh around you all along. It’s a sweet sound. You don’t even want to wring his neck right now. “I know. I don’t expect that to fix anything, but I still wanted to give you something. You can stomp it or throw it in the trash or feed it to the raccoon couple near Macy’s, I don’t mind. I just wanted you to know that I’m a really stupid guy who has a kind of embarrassingly huge crush on you. Happy Valentine’s day, (Name). I hope... I hope that we can at least be friends. Or enemies with a truce.”

Sincere. He was actually being sincere right now.

You drop the dustpan and push the swinging half-door open to leave your little kiosk, watching Wonpil as he turns to face you, pretzel still outstretched. You take it form his hands and watch his shoulders deflate in relief. A little overwhelmed with the fact that he’d just confessed to you, you test the waters, “So uh... you busy, Wonpil?”

The boy blinks rapidly, “N-No. Why?”

You take a bite from the warm pretzel and almost let out a humiliating moan in content. Goddamn, this boy made some mean pretzels. How could you ever turn that down? “There’s a movie playing in the theater upstairs in an hour. You know, that really bad remake? You wanna catch it together?”

Wonpil lets out an immediate “Yes. But... what do you wanna do until then?”

For the first time in two months, you allow Wonpil one real, warm smile once more, “You can start by finally answering all those questions I asked about you two months ago, for a start. I’d like to get to know my rival a little better.”

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Breaking the Curse

Chapter 14: Change of Plans

Fucking Mayor Regina Mills.

Everything had been fine! Just fine! Perfectly, beautifully fine! Hell, he'd even gone so far as to say it was damn well fucking dandy!

Yes, Sheriff Graham was dead, but in one visit to his shop, he'd managed to affirm Emma Swan's intent to become the new Sheriff, and he'd given her a tool to share with Henry so that the pair could continue to do their work behind Regina's back. All in all, it should have amounted to a pretty damn good day for him.

But Regina Fucking Mills…sometimes she reminded him why he would have killed her in their world if he hadn't needed her so badly. He'd just cleaned up one of her messes for himself and the entire town, and just as he had, she'd gone and made another one when his back was turned like the child that she was.

It had been the middle of the afternoon, and he'd been feeling good about everything that had happened when Dove had called him, and his stomach dropped in his belly. Dove was a man of few words. It was why he preferred to use text messages for communication. So when Dove actually picked up his phone and called him, it was rarely a good thing.

"This better be good, Mr. Dove.

"Yeah, it is. Emma Swan came to see you this morning?" he questioned.

"Yes, to talk about her taking the Sheriff position."

"That's what I figured. I hate to burst your bubble, but it didn't last long. Regina just fired her."

The words traveled through him like electricity. His body shook and tingled as he considered the words he'd just heard, the words he hoped he hadn't heard. He felt his heart thudding away through his chest as he tried to contain his anger.

"You're sure?"

"I mean…I wasn't inside, but after she met with you, she went back to the police station. Regina showed up. A few minutes later, Emma left the station, clearly angry, with a small box of items in her hands. She practically threw it into the bug before she drove off. But she wasn't wearing any kind of badge, and it's too early for her to be going home. She's a nine to five kind of girl; she doesn't leave early. I stayed long enough to see Regina leave after she did. The pair stared at each other, the Mayor smiled, then locked the police building herself, and that was that. They got in their cars and left. Emma slammed the door hard enough I thought she'd break a window."

"Where is she now?"

"Back at the apartment, hasn't moved, and Mary Margaret isn't home from school yet."

Fucking Regina Mills. He should have known. He should have known that the woman who lost years of her life pursuing Snow White wouldn't just roll over and let Emma Swan take the role that had been held by her lap-wolf. He'd been planning this for fourteen days. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one planning something. What the hell was she playing at.

"So the reason I'm calling is to give you a heads up, boss," Dove continued, interpreting his silence as an invitation to continue to deliver him the bad news. "My friend Will Scarlet just called to inform me that tomorrow morning Regina is supposed to hold a small press conference in her office where she plans to formally appoint Sidney Glass as the new Sheriff."

"Sidney Glass? The editor of the newspaper."

Dove chuckled. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly. The guy doesn't exactly scream 'Sheriff Material.'"

"No, but he is in the Mayor's pockets…"

Not as good as being in her pants as Sheriff Graham had been, but Sidney Glass…he was the genie, the one that Regina had convinced to murder Snow White's father. Everyone in town knew that Glass yearned for Regina. He followed after her like a puppy dog. Making him Sheriff would be laughable to everyone in town, probably even Regina. But the choice made sense for that very reason. If it was true.

"How exactly does Scarlet know this?"

"He says his sources are his own, but trustworthy."

Fuck. He loved the idea of keeping sources private until it had the potential to work against him. But Scarlet had delivered information to Dove before. Whether or not he knew that, he turned around and gave that information to him. So far, the info that he'd given had always been accurate. Which meant that time to fix this new problem was limited. So limited that he considered for one brief, weak moment just letting it go and turning his attention to some other plan or idea. But then that moment passed.

He was angry. He didn't know what Regina was playing at, what her end goal in all this was other than to get rid of Emma Swan and send the town back into its unending sleep, but he knew that his plan was worth fighting for. So he got to work. He did what he had to do in order to solve this problem. He locked the shop up early that afternoon and went home. In his dusty old home office, he found exactly what he needed. One single shelf contained everything he'd "inherited" from his aunt on Storybrooke.

It took him less than an hour to find what he needed. That was no surprise. Regina may have cast the Curse, but it was always his. It figured that would play out in Storybrooke on this level too. Regina might be the Mayor, but no one knew more about Storybrooke than Mr. Gold. And right now, that knowledge was about to pay off. What was Regina playing at? He didn't know, but if this was any indication, then there was no time to waste. He had to make a plan, a good plan, one that was going to take time. Time he'd have, but only if he could accomplish his first step before Regina had that press conference and named Sidney Glass Sheriff. He hated starting his work before he was prepared for the end, but that was just how it had to be.

He'd arrived at the same time Mary Margaret had, home from the market it appeared, although the younger, non-handicapped woman moved faster than him into the apartment. He didn't even think that she saw him. When he arrived at the door, he could hear the two women talking inside, but Emma was the one that answered the door when he knocked. There was what appeared to be a toaster under her arm. It was so broken even he didn't think he could fix it, and that was saying something. Of course, so did the look on her face. Something broken, the loud music he'd heard when he'd pulled up behind Mary Margaret, the look on her face…someone was angry. Very angry indeed. He could use that.

"Good evening, Miss Swan. Sorry for the intrusion. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Over her shoulder, in the kitchen, Mary Margaret suddenly chirped, "I'll let you two talk," and disappeared into another room. In this small place, their conversation wouldn't be private in the least, but he didn't particularly care. Allies in fights like these were good. And besides, it would save Emma the trouble of regurgitating every single sentence of this conversation later.

"Come on in," she exclaimed, opening the door for him.

"Thank you. I, uh…I heard about what happened. Such an injustice."

"Yeah, well, what's done is done."

He could work with anger. He could work with a willingness to fight. He couldn't work with someone willing to lay down and die. "Spoken like a true fighter."

"I don't know what chance I have. She's Mayor, and I'm…well…me."

"Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?"

"A benefactor?" she questioned. He smirked. Now, where had he last had a conversation like this? Ah, yes…from a man who knew how to recognize a desperate soul when he saw one. He couldn't hear Zoso now, not since he was human. But he knew enough to know the man was probably just as entertained as he was.

"You mind?" he gestured to the table, and both he and Emma took a seat. He laid the binder out on the table and opened it up, looking for what he knew was there. "You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter."

"The town charter?"

"Well, it's quite comprehensive. And the Mayor's authority? Well, maybe she's not quite as powerful as she seems. Ah!" he piqued, glancing down at his binder and finding the typewritten passage he'd located earlier. "For example: 'The office of Sheriff of Storybrooke is to be an elected position. When the office of Sheriff is in vacancy, the role of the Sheriff is to be filled by the Deputy after fourteen (14) days. If the Deputy refuses the job or is found to be unqualified, the Mayor of Storybrooke may elect a candidate to run for the office of Sheriff after a period of fourteen (14) days. If the candidate runs without opposition, then the candidate may take office. Should the candidate face opposition, then an election shall be called, and the office will be decided by popular vote of the citizens of Storybrooke, Maine.'"

He smiled as he looked up at Emma, but she only sat there with her arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed with his work. "Beautiful," she drawled sarcastically. "What's it mean?"

"It means that Regina is allowed to appoint someone to the office of Sheriff, but that individual can only take over if they're running unopposed."

"So…"

"So…technically Regina was out of bounds by firing you. She did it because the chain of succession states that the position should have gone to you. But now that you are fired, there is a way back."

"I'm listening."

"As long as there is someone else who wants the job, then it calls for a town election. The Sheriff will be elected by the citizens of Storybrooke. Not Mayor Mills."

Something in Emma Swan's gaze shifted suddenly. There was a twitch at the corner of her mouth as if she understood suddenly what he was trying to say but was too timid to actually assume it for herself. "So…"

"So, Miss Swan, if there were someone else, a fighter, who wanted the position, fired or not, all they'd have to do to stop Regina would be to declare their intent to run."

Finally, Emma smiled in triumph.

[babieyangyang10]

violent ends (chapter 4)

(chapter 4)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairing: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: mentions of prostitution, language, violent deaths, fighting, angst, fluff, + possible nsfw.

previous | next

"So, each of the districts get their own floors. Since you're from two, you get the second floor." Doyoung explains as we step out of the elevator.

As we walk into the apartment, I stare in awe at the glamorous quarters.  There are many giant glass columns and a random display of silver trees and rocks.

"Here is the living room and your rooms are over here. How about you freshen up for dinner?" suggests Doyoung. 

In my room, I am met by a bed with a silky, soft comforter. I make my way into the spacious bathroom and hop into the shower. Inside, there was a panel with hundreds of buttons that regulated water temperature, pressure, and even provided massaging sponges.

After finishing, a heater dried my hair and body completely. I pressed another button and a box began sending electrical currents through my scalp, instantly untangling my hair.

Returning the bedroom in comfortable clothes, I see a strange-looking remote on the bed-side table. Intrigued, I begin pressing random buttons. As a result, the window showcasing the lights and building of the Capitol changes into different sceneries.

First, there was a city street filled with cheerful families walking together. After pressing a different button, a dry and deserted desert appeared on the screen.

Switching it once again, a scene showing several mountains peaking through behind a forest of trees. I felt a pulling-feeling in my chest. My throat also feeling slightly choked-up.

During the holidays, every year Taeyong would take me into the mountains of our district. He would pretend to be my knight in shining armor, while I was the princess in distress.  He'd never tell anyone, but sometimes it was even the other way around.

It's also where he taught me how to hunt and find my own food. How to determine between what is the good food and what is the not so very good food.

It was the only time I remember us ever truly being kids. Not soldiers, just a thirteen and seven year old exploring the big, exciting world together.

Then everything went to shit after Taeyong went to the games.  That year, the Gamemakers had chosen a forest for the terrain. However, it was filled with dangerous wild dogs, wolves, and spiders. The spiders had enhanced speed and were extremely venomous. However, the wild dogs were capable of changing their form and copying the voices of the tributes.

Because of this, the entire Career pack was slaughtered alive. Taeyong was the only one who managed to escape. Wounded and without supplies, a twelve year old boy from District 11 named Dong Sicheng had found and formed a alliance with him. Sicheng had shared all of his supplies and even nursed him back to health.

On the last day, they were approached by the last remaining tribute. Taeyong, spotted him and fired an arrow straight into his heart. As he turned around to check on Sicheng, he was met with the boy clutching a harpoon, longed deep in his chest.

Dong Sicheng slowly died in Taeyong's arms.

After the cannon went off, the Captitol announced over the speakers that Lee Taeyong of District 2 was the winner of the 64th Hunger Games.

No longer did he take me to the mountains. Honestly, we never did anything together. Since then, the closest I ever got to be to him was the one time when the rest of my family stood by him during his stop in District 2 during his press tour.

I've always wondered how he felt. Wondered if  he blames himself for what happened. However, I never wanted to intrude. It's not like I ever got the opportunity to ask him, anyways.

However, since I'm going in the games soon. I hope to eventually work up the courage to sit down and have a real talk with him. The real Taeyong, not the victor or mentor he acts like in front of everyone else.

I opened the door to see Doyoung, Renjun, and Taeyong sitting at the dining room table.

Once I sat down in the acid-green chair, Taeyong began talking, "The plan for tomorrow is the same for the both of you. You go to group training. Spend time practicing something your weakest at. Swing a mace. Throw a spear. Tie a decent knot. It doesn't really matter, just save showing off for the private session with the Gamemakers. Are we clear?"

Renjun and I both nod our heads at him.

"Well, have the two of you gotten to know any of the other tributes yet?" pries an interested Doyoung.

"I haven't. Although, Athena seems to be checking out the competition, already."  Renjun answers, nonchalantly.

"Wonderful!" Doyoung innocently chimed, "It's never too early to start considering possible alliances. Are you going to ask anyone to join the two of you?"

"Oh, we're not-" Renjun and I said at the same time. We're laughing as if he's said the funniest joke in the world.

"We've always maintained our own completely different strategies. Renjun prefers to be the predator. There's no doubt in my mind that if he does want to work with others, it'll end up being an alliance with the other Careers. " Renjun just silently nods in agreement.

"And what about you?" asked Doyoung.

"Let's just say I prefer not to walk around with a huge target on my head. I want to team up with someone well-liked, so we can get resources through sponsors." I explained.

"Like Na Jaemin?" sneers Renjun.

"You know people have been calling him the Prince of Panem. He's made quite the impression, already." Doyoung chimes, "And he's not the only one. People have been raving about you, Athena. They've even started calling you, the Golden Girl."

"That's good." Taeyong quietly adds to the conversion, "If you keep this up you'll get lots of sponsors."

Doyoung suddenly blurts, "In fact, most people think Jaemin and you would make a good couple."

At this remark, Taeyong drops his knife loudly on the table, while Renjun chokes on his drink. My mouth begins opening and closing like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply.

"We're done for tonight. You two should go to bed now." Taeyong orders, not hiding his agitation.

Quickly, we all return to our rooms. I crash on my bed and stare up at ceiling.

Jaemin and I as a couple?

Where did they even dream up that possibility from? I mean, we only had one barely two-minute conversation. People really do amaze me sometimes.

My thoughts are broken by a barely-there knock at my door. I groan and force myself off the bed.

I roll my eyes, before opening the door and saying, "Renjun, would you kindly please fuck off?"

However, the person standing there was definitely not Renjun. I tilt my chin up to see no other than Lee Taeyong, towering over me.

"Oh, sorry." I frown, embarrassed.

"Can I come in?" He politely asks me.

I step to the side and allow him inside. Once he's fully in, I closed the door behind him.

"Finally decided to talk to me, huh?"

He just stays silent, just letting me say whatever I please.

"You know, I thought you'd at least be happy for me. I mean, you of all people should know that this is the best thing that could ever happen to me." The emotions I've been holding in for the past 10 years are finally coming to the surface.

Taeyong looks at me with pity, "Athena, there are some things you don't know. Things that the school or our parents never taught us."

"What are you even talking about?" I pressure.

"After the games, you couldn't see me for a reason." He took a heavy breath, "Sometimes, if a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for money. It’s not just me either, the same thing happened to Finnick Odair a year later."

"What do you mean, 'buy'?" I swallow.

"For sex."

It’s quiet.

"I was given no choice. He said that he would kill both of our parents and even you if I didn't obey." His eyes begin tearing up, "Athena, you don't know how much I wanted to come see you and teach you things."

"Taeyong." I whimper.

I felt sick to my stomach. How could they do that to him? He was just a thirteen year old kid. Even worse, how could I let myself hate and be jealous of him, when all along he was the reason I was still even living?

"I know I'm a horrible brother, but please listen to me when I say the Capitol uses everyone, including you. You have been taught that this, the games, are normal and something to be proud of. You haven't even seen how horrible it is for the lower districts. They can barely make it through one day without starving. They have basically nothing, while the Capitol is feeding off them."

Anger rises up in me. I look around at all the expensive things in the room. Think about the large amount of fancy food I've consumed while in the Capitol. I'm furious, because I've been lied to and tricked. Furious for Taeyong and all the others the Capitol has taken advantage of.

I jump into my brothers arms and completely break down. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said Taeyong. It was stupid. I'm stupid."

"It's okay. You didn’t know." He shushes, while holding me.

“Listen to me. If you-“ he corrects himself, “When you win this thing, I’m not going to let him do anything to you, okay?”

“Taeyong, can I tell you something? I’ve just never got the chance to.” I ask.

He nods.

“What happened to Sicheng wasn’t your fault. You understand that, right?”

He painfully looks down at the floor, before slowly nodding.

“I’m serious, Taeyong. It’s not your fault.”

By the time he looks up, I am able to clearly see him. Underneath the years of pain, hidden away was a vulnerable boy. The tears come falling down his cheeks.

We spend the rest of the night talking about our past, telling stories. Both laughing and crying together.

My brother and I.