#he says things in anger and can convey his selfish needs sometimes but what are we without negative aspects | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beomcoups · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: idol!Jaehyun (NCT) x femme reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, fluff, loves to exes au, idol au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R(18+)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy emotions, small drinking, kissing, fingering, oral (f.receiving), missionary, Jaehyun hits it from the back, choking, nipple play, slight nail digging into skin.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.5k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been months since you and Jaehyun have broken up and you thought you would be okay, until he asked you to come over.

You know you shouldn’t be here, standing outside his door. You two are no good to each other, you fight more than you make up, and you’ve both been hurt so many times; yet, when he called, you came running.

You’ve been broken up with Jaehyun for months, your last fight so brutal that you vowed to never see each other again. It worked for a while, distracting yourself with work and blocking him from all social media. You felt strong and confident that you could get through this and that you can move on from him. But then you saw him on your friend’s Facebook page at dinner, his handsome dimpled face catching you off guard as you watched your mutual friend celebrate their birthday. It angered you, seeing him happy and without a carefree in the world while you had to pull yourself together and go through life without him.

Yet, as mad as you were, the happy memories you two shared flooded your mind, and your heart sank from the loneliness you had to bear and the feelings you have from missing him. When you think of Jaehyun, you get emotional, almost sick even; the love you have for him is greater than anything you experienced. He wasn’t your first love, your first kiss or your first sexual experience, but meeting him on that sunny afternoon on the beach changed your life. He understood your fears and your innermost thoughts and had a way of speaking that calmed your restless soul. Jaehyun has a wicked sense of humor and a kindness that melted your heart beyond words. He took you on spontaneous dates and would buy you flowers because he knew you loved them. His impeccable features and his sex drive were only pluses in the relationship that made you feel like he was the one; that you could be with him forever.

But his duties as an idol started to keep him away, and you knew that being with him came with that risk. You thought you could handle it, not being able to see him for weeks at a time and sometimes months if he was out of the country. The facetime and skype calls lasted for a while until those slowly started to fade, and you were staring at your phone at night, wondering when he would call. It didn’t help see him on tv, flirting with other women and showing off his charms that made you fall in love with him. You saw red when you saw him escort that famous actress to their premiere with his hand on her back. You have never been the jealous type, but seeing the man you love and have not seen in weeks with someone else set you ablaze. You pleaded with Jaehyun to carve out some time for you, even if it was just for an hour, but he always claimed he was too tired or busy. So you got fed up, marched over to his dorm unannounced and gave him a piece of your mind. He called you selfish and insecure, and that hurt you to the core. You screamed at him, throwing the promise ring he bought for you at his chest and broke up with him. You stormed out of the dorm, the members pretending that they didn’t hear anything, but you knew deep in your heart that they heard it all, and it just added more to your embarrassment.

As the months went by, you thought about that night often, what you could have done differently and if you would still take him back. So many nights, you held your phone in your hand, wanting to dial his number and make it alright. You hate him for letting you leave, but you love him just as much, so when he asked you to come over, it was a no brainer. So with a bit of liquid courage, you made your way to him, holding your breath all the way.

𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Seeing Y/N again after all these months was like a breath of fresh air. She walked into Jaehyun’s room, beautiful as ever, her hair down in all its shiny glory, her skin glowing like the yellow orb in the sky. She is wearing that oversized sweater he bought her when he came back from tour, with shorts that show off those legs he loved to be in between. She smiled at him as she came in, but behind those beautiful eyes held a sadness he knew because of him, and he would do anything to take it away. Jaehyun is hopelessly in love with her, and there is no him without her. Y/N keeps him sane and anchored when he feels like he is going out of control. She understands him better than anyone and takes care of him, nurturing him with her sweet words and kind actions. Jaehyun’s never been able to convey how much she truly means to him, and he regrets letting her go. Seeing her in front of him brings colors into his gray world, and he needs her.

“So,” she stands there, twiddling her fingers as she sits down on the bed. “How have you been?”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, unsure how he should answer. Jaehyun wants to be honest with Y/N and kiss her beautiful face, but his pride will not let him. Instead, he leans back against his desk and folds his arms, trying to keep his cool demeanor.

“I’ve been okay, I suppose,” he clears his throat.

There is awkward dead silence, and he would be a liar if he said his heart wasn’t jumping out of his chest. He’s never been good with expressing his feelings, and it took a lot of courage and convincing from his members to give Y/N a call.

“You know you miss her, man,” his member Johnny voice rings through his head. “Just call her. The worst thing she can say is to fuck off or not respond at all.”

“So what have you been up to?” Jaehyun questioned, attempting to break the ice.

“Nothing really,” she sighs. “Just work work work.”

The deafening silence comes back, and Jaehyun is panicking, unsure what to say next. He doesn’t want to push things too fast and scare her away but damn it, he wants to be with her.

“What am I doing here, Jaehyun?” Y/N interrogates him, catching him off guard. “If you called me here for small talk, we could have done this over the phone.”

“I didn’t invite you here for small talk,” Jaehyun swore, his eyes pleading with her.

“So why am I here-”

“I miss you,” he blurts out, his voice echoing in the walls. “I fucking miss you, and I want you back.”

Her eyes widen, shocked at Jaehyun’s revelation, and he continues to confess how he feels.

“I was a fucking idiot for letting you walk out that door,” he laments, taking a seat in his chair. “At the time, when we were fighting, I felt like I was suffocating. I had comeback schedules and movie premieres to go to, and I didn’t want to let you down, but I felt like I was being pulled in different directions from everyone. So when you yelled at me, I got frustrated and lashed out at you instead of listening. I’m sorry about that.”

Watching Y/N’s eyes well up with tears broke his heart, and he wanted to kiss her pain away and make her whole again. Jaehyun yearned for her, and he was not letting her go again.

“You called me selfish and insecure,” Y/N sniffled, wiping her tears with her sweater. “That really hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun gets up and softly grabs her hand, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was feeling like you were not hearing me and you yelling at me made me feel like I was backed into a corner.”

“So you couldn’t handle me expressing how I feel?” Y/N criticized him, taking her hand away from him. “You were barely talking to me, and to see you on tv and flirting with these women, it made me snap.”

“So that made it okay for you to barge into the dorm at 1am and scream at me?!” Jaehyun rebutted, staring deep into her eyes. “You embarrassed me and wouldn’t let me get a word in. You called me a coward and accused me of cheating on you. God Y/N, I would never do that to you. I love you and respect you too much to lose your trust like that.”

Y/N looks down, twiddling her fingers once more, tears falling down her cheeks. He moves closer to her, wiping more tears from her eyes and lifting up her chin.

“Do you still love me?”

Y/N looks at him, her eyes already telling it all before she could answer.

“Yes, Jae, I love you,” she confesses. “I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.”

Jaehyun’s heart flutters at her soft words, and a wave of relief washes over him. It felt good to hear that she still loved him after all these months have passed, and caught up in the moment, he kisses her deeply.

“I’m sorry, he apologizes, giving her space. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly, gazing at him lovingly. “Kiss me again.”

(𝐘/𝐍’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕)

Jaehyun kisses you, and it feels like home, like you finally found the missing piece to your puzzle of your soul. You give into him completely, sliding your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his toned abs before taking off his shirt. You pause to gauge his response, and he smiles, whispering that he loves you and that he’s sorry. You nod and kiss him again, allowing his hands to roam around your ass before giving it a tight squeeze.

“I missed you,” he breathes in between kisses.

“Did you?” you tease him, fumbling with the button on your shorts.

He undoes the button for you and slides your jean shorts off for you, laying you down on the bed as he climbs on top of you. He holds back for a moment, admiring your beauty before continuing his onslaught of kisses, trailing down to your neck. His cool hands slide up your sweater, unhooking the front of your bra and softly rubbing your mounds. You bite your lip in an attempt to hold back your moans, the electricity sparking from each touch.

“I’m never going to hurt you again,” he promises, lifting up your sweater and revealing your breasts.

He cups them and puts them in his mouth, sucking on each nipple tentatively and with such care. Your center is dripping, and you slide your hands down to your panties, softly rubbing yourself. He takes notice of your action and trails his kisses down your stomach, nipping you lightly until his face is in between your legs. He pulls your panties to the side, taking a long swipe of your sweet nectar before diving in.

“ Oh my god,” you moan, taking a fistful of his hair.

He ravages you, lavishing his tongue at your entrance and sucking on your clit, his nail dug dip into your hip. Your moans get increasingly louder, and he slides two fingers in you, your walls already convulsing around him.

“You gotta be quiet for me, baby, okay?” Jaehyun whispers, slowly thrusting in and out of you. “I don’t want everyone to hear us.”

You nod feverishly, covering your mouth as you fall into a euphoric state, being finger fucked by the love of your life. He returns his mouth to your clit, your legs buckling on impact, your hand pulling his hair tighter. You create a rhythm on his tongue, slow fucking his face until you feel yourself reaching your breaking point.

“Baby…” you moan, your stomach coiling. “I’m almost here.”

He suddenly removes his fingers out of you, shoving down his grey sweats and revealing his hard dick, eager to be inside of you. He lifts your leg up and slams into you, making you yelp from impact.

“It’s been way too long,” he groans, slow stroking your tight cunt.

Jaehyun allows you to get used to his size before increasing his pace, the lust in his eyes evident. Your hunger for him in insatiable, begging him to fuck you harder, not caring about the bed hitting the wall loud enough to wake everyone up. You lifted up your shirt and pinched your nipples, slapping them because you knew he liked that, and you like the slight pain from it.

“You are so sexy,” his breathless praise of you makes you hotter and want more of him.

He slides his hand on your throat, holding a firm grip as he continues to plunge deep inside of you. You try your best to cover your moans with your hand, but then your stomach coils, signaling your release. You tap his shoulder feverishly, and he pulls out and flips you over, taking you from behind.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls, slamming into you with such force you almost fall off the bed.

Jaehyun grips your hair tightly, skin slapping filling the walls in the room, and he fucks you into the mattress, releasing his feelings from missing you all into this moment. He tells you he loves you over and over, and you believe him, not wanting this moment to end. You grip the sheets tightly, warning him of the upcoming rapture that was ripping through you.

“Go ahead, baby,” he encourages you. “Cum for me.”

You scream his name in the sheets, your orgasm rushing through and all over him, your insides convulsing on his dick. He shudders and pulls out shortly after, emptying himself on your ass and giving it a small smack. You collapse on the bed, your legs sore and shaking, unable to move.

“That was…” you start to say.

“Amazing,” Jaehyun finishes your sentence, leaning over and kissing your sweaty forehead.

You both laugh in unison, and you slowly sit up, admiring the physique of the man you love.

“Hey Jae,” you call him softly, holding your hand out for him to take. “I don’t want to fight like that and be away from you that long ever again.”

He nods and smiles, giving you a deep kiss before pulling you into a hug.

“Me neither, baby,” he agrees. “These months without you have been hard. I felt like a piece of me was missing.”

You gaze up at him lovingly, placing a small kiss on his lips.

“It’s about time you two made up,” Johnny’s voice comes through the door. “He’s been miserable without you.”

Jaehyun sucks his teeth and throws a pillow at the door, his face red with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” you giggle. “I’m not going anywhere.”

422 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.

fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.

Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.

My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.

"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.

"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.

The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.

The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.

My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.

It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.

"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."

My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.

"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.

"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.

The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!

"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."

My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.

I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.

Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.

The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.

The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.

Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.

I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.

The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.

The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.

Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.

I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.

As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.

The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.

Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.

My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.

Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.

The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.

"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.

I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?

"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."

I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.

Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?

The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.

The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.

"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.

"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.

"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."

The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.

Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.

The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.

As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.

Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader #Tony Stark x you #Stephen Strange x you

60 notes · View notes

bnha-and-more-imagines · 5 years ago

Note

bakubae, todoroki, dabi, and Tamaki’s S/O pushing them away and when they confront her she says it’s because she’s scared they’ll leave her because all the men she’s cared about has left her. I’m a sucker for angst that turns to fluff 😣❤️ (also sorry my English isn’t very good)

A/N: Here you go anon! Sorry this took ages! I wasn’t sure if you wanted headcanons or shorts, so I did shorts. Also I apologize to everyone in advance, I’m still not used to writing Tamaki’s character. Hope it’s still somewhat enjoyable!

Warnings: Swearing

Katsuki Bakugou:

He began to notice a shift in their relationship. Her smiles started to seem more forced, she wouldn’t initiate physical contact as much, and whenever they’d talk she’d give him short, curt replies. At first, he decided to give her space. If she wanted to bring it up to him, she would do it. But as time went on, she grew more and more distant. Now she could barely look him in the eye. It was starting to get to him. So one night, he goes straight to her dorm room when he’s positive she’s alone. As he expected, she freezes up when she sees him.

He scowls at her before pushing his way into her room. “Mind telling me what the hell’s been going on?”

She lowers her gaze, “...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He glares as his frown deepens, “Cut the bullshit. We both know something’s wrong and I want you to tell me what it is.”

She still doesn’t look at him and stays quiet.

Bakugou sighs, his face softening, “Look, I’m not… I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to make this better. So if you can think of anything I can do to make you feel better, just tell me”

It catches him off guard when her shoulders start shaking and tears start streaming down her cheeks. He doesn’t hesitate to bring her into his arms as she cries.

“S-sorry, Katsuki-kun. It’s all just me.” She stuttered out. “I-I’m just scared that you’ll leave me.”

He said nothing, stunned, waiting for her to continue.

“Everyone I’ve cared about has left me. And you’re so amazing when I’m not that I can’t help but worry that you’ll realize that and leave me.”

There was a pause for a moment before Bakugou spoke up, “That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“W-what?” (Y/N) sniffed.

“I’m not gonna leave you. You’ve got way more reasons to leave me.” Bakugou said, “Those assholes who left you don’t know what they missed out on.”

“...You think so?” She smiled a bit.

“Yeah, biggest mistake of their lives.” He smirked before turning serious again. “I promise I won’t leave. So don’t stress yourself about it.”

He pressed his mouth on the top of her head.

“You’re right, Katsuki-kun. I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. I promise to come to you if it happens again.”

“Hmph, you better.” He muttered.

Shoutou Todoroki:

Todoroki was a genius in a lot of subjects. Relationships, however, was not one of them. Which is why he wasn’t sure how to best approach this situation. (Y/N) had been distant and cold towards him for a few days now, and it only seemed to keep getting worse. He’d been thinking and scratching his head to see if he’d done something wrong.

Did he forget her birthday? An anniversary? Did he say something wrong?

Or maybe… Did she want to break up with him?

He frowned at that thought.

He’d ask the only person he could think of for help.

“Um, well I’d just confront her directly about it. Communicating with each other is the best way to solve things. Tell her how you feel.”

Midoriya’s advice rang in his head.

Todoroki knew he was right. So he sent a text to (Y/N) asking if they could meet up.

‘Sure’

They set up a meeting place and Todoroki made his way there. The cool night air refreshing him as he walked on. Finally, he saw (Y/N) under the streetlight of the park they’d sometimes go to, facing away from him. He took a moment to appreciate her before he made his presence known. It’d been a while since he had actually taken the time to really look at her.

He considered himself lucky.

Finally, he walked up to her.

“(Y/N),” He called her.

She turned to look at him, “Hey Shouto-kun”

She didn’t smile at him like she normally would, and that worried him even more.

“Why did you want to meet up?” She asked him

Todoroki paused. He hadn’t really prepared on what he’d say to her. He’d never been good with words. Midoriya had told him to tell her how he felt, right? So that’s what he’d do.

“You know I’m not good with words or expressing myself, but you always managed to understand what I’m trying to convey. I’ve always appreciated that. You’ve become distant lately, I apologize if I’ve done something that hurt you without realizing it.

“I don’t want the relationship to end because of something I’ve done by accident.” He finished

(Y/N) had a hand over her mouth as she stared at him in shock, “Shouto-kun, you… you thought that I was going to break up with you?”

He looked at her in confusion, “Is that not what you were thinking?”

He was further confused when (Y/N) began to laugh and cry at the same time.

She shook her head, “No, that’s not what I’ve been thinking. I thought you were leaving me.”

He froze for a second, “Why would I do that?”

“I’ve been left by everyone I dated before. I thought maybe you were going to leave me, too.” She said as the tears kept streaming down her face.

Todoroki frowned, “I can assure you I have no intentions of leaving.” He reached out to hold her hand.

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

(Y/N) shook her head again, “No, you didn’t. I was just being stupid. I’m sorry I made you worry. I won’t do it again.”

She wiped her tears away and smiled softly at him, Todoroki allowed himself to smile back.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Dabi:

It shouldn’t have fazed him when (Y/N) started ignoring his calls and avoiding him altogether. In fact, it should’ve been a good thing. He shouldn’t have let her get close to him, to begin with.

It had been a predetermined relationship in his eyes. They’d be together until she realized that the whole world hated him, then she’d leave him and move on to someone better. That’s how he’d always seen it going.

He hated the idea of her being with someone else. The thought of her kissing someone who wasn’t him made him want to burn the whole damn city down. But if that’s what she wanted and asked of him, then he’d have to let her go.

The problem was that Dabi was selfish when it came to her.

And she hadn’t asked him to let her go yet. He needed to hear it from her before he resigned himself into protecting her from a distance.

He let himself in through the balcony of her apartment as he did every time, mildly surprised that it was unlocked considering the circumstances. The lights were all off in her apartment. She was probably still at her job, but he knew she’d be home soon. He sat down on the couch and waited.

It was about 20 minutes when he heard the door open and the lights turn on, momentarily blinding him. She still hadn’t noticed him.

“Hey.”

A startled yelp escaped her lips as she turned to his direction, panicked. Her surprise soon turned into anger as she saw who it was.

“Dabi! Were you trying to give me a heart attack?!” She seethed. He would’ve found her anger funny any other time.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” He cut straight to the point.

(Y/N) looked away from him, “I’ve been busy.”

He let out a sarcastic chuckle, “Right. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on.”

“Like I said, I’ve been busy.”

Dabi’s patience was wearing thin. He marched up to her and stared down at her.

“Don’t lie to me. If you want to end things now, then say so. Don’t keep avoiding me and dancing around it.” He glared at her.

She finally met his eyes again, “Oh, please. I’m the one dancing around the subject? You’re the one who wants to leave.”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes, “Is that really what you think?”

“Isn’t it true? You never even wanted this. You never wanted me. And now you’re going to leave, like everyone else.” She finished, tears welled up in her eyes.

Dabi’s shocked face turned into one of anger. “You think that I would be here if I didn’t want this? I do. You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He gritted, “So stop whatever thoughts are going through that pretty little head of yours, cause I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

He proceeded to tilt her chin and kiss her roughly, all the while cursing at himself for his selfishness.

Tamaki Amajiki:

He was scared.

More scared than usual, that is.

His girlfriend had been avoiding him lately. It felt like days since they last had talked. He thought that maybe his paranoia was getting the best of him, but even his closest friends had noticed.

“Hey did you and (Y/N)-chan have a fight?” Nejire had asked him one day.

“No. I-I don’t think so anyway?” He mumbled.

“Then why isn’t she with you? Don’t you two always hang out together? It’s so weird seeing you apart.”

Tamaki just kept sinking into the couch. Mirio seemed to notice his friend’s worries.

“Don’t worry, Tamaki! I’m sure everything will turn out alright! If you’re worried about it, try talking to her directly.”

Tamaki broke into a cold sweat as his thoughts ran wild, “B-but what if she doesn’t want to see me? Maybe she hates me and wants to break up with me.”

“Come on, Tamaki, that doesn’t sound like (Y/N) at all. Why don’t you try talking to her about it?”

He knew he should talk to her, but his fears got the best of him, “I just...don’t know if I can.” He mumbled.

“Well, if talking doesn’t help why not write it down?” Nejire piped in.

“Hey! That’s not a bad idea! Think you can do that, Tamaki?” Mirio asked.

Tamaki thought for a moment, “I can try…”

Which led him to his current situation. Tamaki’s pencil hovered over the blank piece of paper as he thought of what to write. He’d never been good at expressing himself, he knew that. He hadn’t even had the courage to confess to her, it’d been Mirio and Nejire who had set them up on a date. Surprisingly, she didn’t mind his shy and nervous nature. They were in a comfortable relationship. When Tamaki was with her, he felt at ease. At least, that’s how he’d seen it.

Was his behavior the reason she was growing distant? Did she hate him now? Had his lack of affection finally gotten to her?

He shook his head.

If she wanted to leave him, he wanted her to at least know how he truly felt before her decision was finalized.

Tamaki set the pencil down and left his room.

A knocking at (Y/N)’s roused her from sleep. Groggily, she sat up and wondered who would be bothering her at, she squinted at the clock on her nightstand, 12:07 A.M. Before she could let her thoughts wander for long, she heard more knocking.

“Comin’,” She mumbled, though she doubted whoever it was could hear her.

She cracked the door open and the panic she felt when she saw who it was fully woke her up.

“Tamaki, what are you doing here?”

His eyes met hers for a second before darting to the ground.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Fear gripped (Y/N)’s heart, “Oh. Did you want to come in?”

Tamaki shook his head, “If I delay it, I might lose my nerves.”

He took a deep breath in an effort to calm the maelstrom of anxiety that he was feeling.

“I think that you’re really amazing,” He spoke, “I’ve always admired how strong and kind-hearted you are. You have the courage that I lack. And so… when you finally noticed me, I couldn’t help but shy away like I always do. I couldn’t convey my feelings to you properly, and now I feel that I’m losing you because of that. I really don’t want you to end things without hearing how I felt. S-so, um, yeah.” He finished lamely as the courage that he had mustered up began to fade. He looked anywhere but at her; until he heard a sniffle come from her.

Panicked he looked up at her and saw the tears running down her face. A thousand apologies were about to leave his mouth, and (Y/N), who seemed to know what he was going to do, shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize, Tamaki. I’m the one who’s at fault. I’ve been thinking negative things and just let them get to me. I felt like you were too good for me and were going to realize that soon. I’m so sorry I made you think it was your fault.”

Tamaki stood there, shocked “I think...I think that I’d have to be pretty stupid to leave someone like you.” He stated with a soft blush.

This made (Y/N) finally giggle, and it made him realize that he’d missed this. He’d missed her. His nerves began to settle.

“Thank you, Tamaki.” She said.

#bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #tamaki amajiki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #tamaki amajiki #dabi #dabi x reader #todoroki #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader

810 notes · View notes

starkidpotty · 4 years ago

Text

The Good Side [DLM]

You and Draco lament on what could’ve been and what would’ve been fun had things been different.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: ~2.1k

A/N: I took a lot of liberties writing Draco out, so I’m sorry if the characterization is a little whack. (any draco writers out there...advice is welcome pls message huhu) i hope u guys enjoy it nonetheless <3

The sun beat down on the northern part of Diagon Alley that day. It was the transitional period between summer and spring, where the weather hit just the right spot and everyone was out to enjoy their time. It was quite the contrast to what you and Draco had come to discuss at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Shop.

Draco was sat across from you, people-watching while scooping up his raspberry ice cream. You decided against ice cream that day, with your hands folded gracefully on your lap. You and he would occasionally steal glances at each other, trying to urge each other to start the conversation. Whether it was pride or shyness that hindered you two from talking, you were not sure. The heat was starting to get to you, as you were now starting to get annoyed with the silence you two didn’t need to share.

“How’s the MACUSA and Ministry effort?” Draco starts, as though he were aware of the irritation building inside you. He was always one step ahead of you, a skill he still proved to have been proficient at even though it had been years after you two parted ways.

“Same old, same old–only I spearhead it now.” You answer him quite proudly. He stops picking at his ice cream to flash a smile your way.

“I always told you’d get it, didn’t I? The Ministry would be fools to let such talent go to waste.”

A heavy pause blankets you both. The air between you two was a tripe mixture of nostalgia and despondency. As uncomfortable as it was, neither of you made moves to fuel the conversation further. Draco picks at his cup again, and you fixate on a wizard carrying a stack of books making his way out of Flourish and Blott’s.

You take a deep breath in, “Alright, I think it’s time to save us the awkwardness, yeah?”

Draco puts down his ice cream cup, turning his body and chair to face you. He perches his folded hands on the table and looks at you intently. Your body is still facing the street the ice cream shop overlooks, but your head is turned to look back at him.

“I need the ring back.” He states his purpose simply.

“Then, you’ll get it back. Need not worry, Draco.” You grab your purse and shuffle through its contents until you finally palm the velvet ring box. You gently place the box on the table.

“Perfect.” Draco says to you, as he opens the ring box, examining the emerald ring inside.

“When are you planning on asking Astoria?” You ask Draco, trying to make your tone as neutral as possible.

“All I can say is soon. I just know I’m going to marry her.”

You won’t lie to yourself and say that there isn’t a small part of you that finds this deeply saddening. Draco and your’s relationship was good, to say the least–as good as it gets as childhood acquaintances to Slytherin housemates to lovers. All firsts were shared with each other: first kiss, first time, first I love you’s. You watched him as he received the Dark mark, held his hand through Lucius’ trial after the war, and watched each other in the early stages of your respective careers. It wasn’t the beginning and middle that was terrible so much as the end. There was never any big event that had caused either of you to fall out of love. There was no third party, no betrayal, no selfishness, no greed. It was quiet–that was the best way you could describe it–the ending crept up on the both of you, sleeping on your chests until the weight became too heavy to shudder away. You looked at each other and no longer sought each other out in the future. The breakup itself was amicable and neutral, with the both of you accepting that you had merely outgrown each other, despite having grown together. On some nights, imagining what could’ve been sent you down two paths, where you either resented each other or fell back in together. It bothers you sometimes to think of the latter, but you know well enough it was going to be the former.

You smile sweetly at Draco in response, looking back down at your hands as you were at a loss for words.

“I’m glad you found someone, I really am.” You say as you finally unknot the tie your tongue was in.

Draco looks around, as though making sure no one would be able to hear the next sentence to fall out of his mouth. “D’you ever think we could’ve made it to that point?”

“You did propose to me, hence why we’re here.” You chuckle lightly and continue, “but, I think we would’ve grown to hate each other, if I’m being honest, Draco.”

Draco squints to look up at the sun, trying to muster a response.

You look back at him with your mouth twisted into a half-smile, brows furrowed, mildly amused that he asked. He finally turns to you and catches your expression, making him smile slightly.

“Why do you think that?” Draco asks you intently.

“Well, I think we just became different people. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

One of the things Draco had to learn was choosing his words carefully before speaking them. He was never keen on being heedful with what he’d say, as evidenced by his formative years at Hogwarts, even when he was talking to you. However, his early years in litigation forced him to catch his tongue before it made any unfavorable comment on stakeholders during a trial. His eyes were shut in deep concentration, trying to map out what to say next to you.

“What happened between us?” Draco asks you. “I still ask myself that a lot sometimes. Not for anything, but it’s just hard for me to understand. It just happened upon us, quickly too might I add.”

You take a few moments to ponder, to craft out your dialogue, “It wasn’t that anything happened, Draco. It was moreso that nothing happened at all.”

“Did we grow to hate each other, is that it?” Draco tries hard to hide his classic schoolboy sneer, but fails.

“Draco, I could never hate you. You of all people should know that.” You huff out, suddenly frustrated at his tone.

“Sorry, [Y/N], that didn’t come out quite right.”

“S’alright, I understand.”

Draco curses himself for the drastic change in mood, he didn’t mean for it to happen.

“It’s just strange to think, I suppose.” He asks again, more careful now with his tone.

“What is?” You turn your head to face him. Suddenly, the years you spent apart are splayed on his face in developing forehead wrinkles and tired eyes. You are studying the new features on his face intently, making sure that this is the Draco you had spent more than two decades with.

“Weren’t we always sure of what was to come to both of us? As though we had so much control over the next few years of our lives?”

You breathe in and close your eyes before you answer. In a flash, you are taken back to nights spent in the Slytherin common room, talking hypothetical situations with Draco–what you’d do if in the event the hospital made a mistake and you were having twins instead of one child, what if you became a quidditch star and he your number #1 fan instead of working for the Ministry, what if you both ran off to an island off the coast of Greece and raised sheep and never came back?

You reply to him solemnly, “I think the universe is funny that way, don’t you think?”

“Merlin, you sound like you belong with the quacks in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Shut up, it’s a saying muggles like to parrot, thought it would go nicely with the tone of conversation.”

Draco pauses and continues, “Didn’t we always have our own sense of time? That extended into our plans, who our hypothetical kids would be. It’s insane to me how that changed so fast,”

“I agree.” You tell him, “We were supposed to marry each other, for Merlin’s sake!”

Draco sighs, looking off to the side.

You never held any ill-intent with how you and Draco ended, but now you realize that was just you. Not once had you considered that he was hurting more than you due to the peaceful nature of the breakup. It was criminally naive of you to have thought Draco was just as at peace as you after ending a decade-long relationship.

“Well, do you hate me, Draco?” You ask him at your realization.

“More than 10 years together and, what? Four years apart, you think I could hate you?” Draco asks you, almost offended at your question. “You know the answer to that, [Y/N].”

“Were you ever angry at me? For how,” You pause trying to look for the term to best describe, “calm I was when I told you I wanted to leave?”

Draco’s practiced this conversation so many times in his head, but he still takes a moment to process the words he wants to use to convey his emotions. “For a time, yes. I was angry with you. But not the kind of angry I usually am. It was an anger that made me question so many things.”

“I had just always thought time was an excellent indicator of a strong relationship, I mean, 10 years? Would you question it then? A decade? So, to put it simply, I was angry–angry that time wasn’t enough to salvage what we had. But, I think that was naivety talking. This is in no offense to you at all, I cherish our time together so much so. But, Astoria? It’s as right as anything, and not even time could tell me how to feel about her.”

You look at Draco in awe, wondering when he had crossed the line from boy to man in the four years you spent apart. Draco was always smart, no doubt. But, this Draco sat in front of you–carefully choosing his words and explaining his emotions–it was entirely new. You reached over to hold Draco’s hand, but not in the way you and he would hold hands years ago. It was in an I’m proud of how far you’ve grown, type of way. Draco was taken aback, but understood quickly, always privy to your emotions, whether they were tacit or overt. He squeezed your hand back.

“[Y/N], I need you to know that you are such a huge part of who I am today, I can never discount that. Ever.” Draco says to you, your hand still in his. “We’ve done so much good for each other, we really have.”

“We really have, Draco. Astoria’s so lucky, she has to know that.”

Draco’s famous smirk makes an appearance on his mouth, “I’m damn well sure she knows.”

You throw your head back in laughter, letting go of his hand, “Merlin, there you are again–cocky boy from Slytherin.”

“Cocky boy from the litigation department, I’d rather hear that.”

You both laugh at each other like no time has passed. Like both of you were back in the Slytherin common room after bedtime talking about all the dumb things two teenagers thought were important at the time. You two catch up a little bit more, further detailing your efforts in dating and at the ministry (with the former being quite futile), and he diving into how he and Astoria came to be. You and Draco filled in the blanks from the last few years until the conversation boils down to a halt. You say your goodbyes, hugging each other, wishing each other well and walking toward opposite ends of Diagon Alley.

As much as you thought this a heavy task to fulfill, you left the conversation with a light heart and even lighter shoulders. There is relief you haven’t felt since you left Draco. The relationship, as good as it was, was best left how it ended. No mourning, no lamenting could rewrite the ending or the years succeeding it in the same way no regret or guilt could change the years prior to it. All you knew was the good that you and Draco left in the spaces between you two.

masterlist here | requests open

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

57 notes · View notes

thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! As someone who’s literary opinion I really trust, I was surprised that you’re a twilight fan? I know almost nothing except commen knowledge things about that series, and I always assumed it was actually bad/un-feminist. What is it that you like so much that others seem to miss? I’m just genuinely curious about your take on the hate it always seems to get vs. it’s actual quality. I’m not gonna judge bc animorphs is also one of those books where you see it and assume it’s bad.

In over 14 years of loving this series, I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me why I enjoy it instead of simply trying to convince me that I’m wrong to do so. So thank you for that.

First and foremost, I love the Twilight saga because of the vivid detail in Stephenie Meyer’s writing style. The descriptions are so lush and dense with sensory information that you can practically bite down on them as you read. Bella and Jacob aren’t just sitting on the beach; they’re sitting on a gnarled log of driftwood, worn smooth at the top from where so many Quileute teens have sat upon it during bonfires but still uneven enough to rock on its branches when Bella suddenly stands to rage at her own mortality. Meyer describes that log in Twilight, so tangibly and with such economy of detail, that we recognize it immediately when Bella and Jacob return to that spot in Eclipse. I’ve always disliked the movies, because I’ve always felt that the best part of Meyer’s writing simply did not translate well to the screen.

Secondly, I love the feminism.

Okay, let’s take a quick pause to let everyone gasp and clutch their pearls over me calling Twilight a feminist work. I will address the criticisms later. For now, please just hear me out.

Twilight strikes me as a premier example of what Hélène Cixous means when she calls for “women’s writing,” or writing for women, about women, by women, with a strong focus on the concerns and strengths and desires of womanhood. This is a series about building and maintaining close relationships, both romantic and platonic. It celebrates beauty, and love, and care. Bella moves to Forks because she recognizes that her dad is lonely while her mom is quite the opposite, torn between family priorities. She doesn’t simply subsume her interests to those of other people, but instead actively chooses how and when and where to express her love for her birth family and her found families. Most of the other major decisions throughout the story — Alice “adopting” Bella, Carlisle moving the family to Alaska, Jacob becoming werewolf beta, the Cullens going up against the Volturi, etc. — are motivated by care and devotion for one’s family and friends. Even the selfish or morally ambiguous character choices are shown to be motivated by love. Rosalie tells Edward that Bella died because she genuinely thinks it’ll help him move on. Victoria creates an army that nearly destroys Forks because she’s avenging James. Alice abandons Bella and the others before the final battle because if she can’t save her entire family, then she’ll settle for saving her lover before letting him die in vain.

Not only is there a striking concern with love and care, but there’s also a strong commitment to avoiding violence. Bella’s eventual vamp-superpower proves to be preventing violence and protecting others, an awesome character decision that I’d argue gets set up as early as the first book. She lives in a violent world — this is a YA SF story, after all — but she has the power to suppress violence and create peace, both in herself and others. I was already sick of “power = ability to inflict damage” in YA stories well before I knew the word “patriarchy.” Twilight was one of the first books to convey to me that power could be refusing to do harm in spite of hunger or anger, that power could be shielding ones’ family, that power could be about building enough friendships and alliances to have an army at one’s back when facing an enemy too strong to take on alone.

Closely connected to all of that love and care, I love how much Twilight is about navigating teenage girlhood. Is it empowering, intersectional, or all-inclusive? Hell no. Does it still dare to suggest that a completely ordinary teenage girl could have valid concerns about the world? Yep. The main conflict of the story, as Stephen King so derisively explained, is about the romantic entanglements of a teenage girl, and the book therefore has no literary merit. (To quote my dad’s response: “Bold words from the guy who inflicted Firestarter on the world.”)

There is, indeed, a lot of romance in Twilight. There are a lot of clothes. Alice and Rosalie especially spend a lot of time on makeup, and hair, and choosing the prettiest cars and houses. Twilight embraces all the stereotypically “girly” concerns of adolescence, and makes no effort to apologize for or condemn them. Bella isn’t particularly good at performing them — she likes but doesn’t excel at shopping, fiercely defends her ugly car as ugly, hobbles through prom on crutches — but she can still enjoy the feeling of being pretty in a sparkly dress while dancing with her sparkly boyfriend. And Twilight, like Animorphs with Cassie, takes the daring step of treating that feeling as valid.

Speaking of sparkles, I love the commitment to the fantasy concept in Twilight, including the myriad mundanities that Meyer brings with that commitment. If you have super-speed, why not use it to play extreme baseball? If you’re a mindreader with a clairvoyant sister, why wouldn’t you two play mental chess games? I couldn’t tell you, after seven seasons of Buffy or eight of Vampire Diaries, what Spike or Damien or Angel or Stefan does all day when not brooding or lurking in the bushes to creep on human women. I can tell you what the Cullens get up to. Emmett and Rosalie work on their cars, usually by holding them overhead one-handed. Carlisle and Alice read plays, and sometimes talk the whole family into home Shakespeare productions. Edward and Carlisle debate theology, Emmett and Jasper have dumb athletic competitions, Edward and Esme play music, Alice manipulates stock markets, the twins go shopping online, etcetera. The Cullens feel real, feel like the vampires next door, in a way that Louis and Lestat simply do not.

To get to the elephant in the room — I just described Twilight as a feminist text! — let’s talk about the other thing the Cullens do for fun: they have sex. Weird sex. Kinky furniture-breaking sex. Sex that Emmett (who would know) compares to bear-wrestling. These books suck with regards to queer representation, but they are sex-positive. They feature an old-school Anglican protagonist offering his daughter-in-law a medical abortion. They treat Edward’s desire for sex only within marriage and Alice’s desire for sex outside of marriage as both being valid. Like I said, not groundbreaking, even by the standards of 2005, but still more than most teen novels do even today.

There’s a passage from Breaking Dawn that people love to pull out of context as “everything wrong with Twilight in two paragraphs” because it describes Bella waking up the morning after sex with bruises on her arms. That moment is shocking out of context, to be sure — but in context, it’s the end result of an in-depth consent negotiation that lasts four books. Bella says that she’d like to become a vampire. Edward says okay, but only if she spends a few more years living as a human and considering that choice. Bella says okay, but only if Edward, not Carlisle, becomes the one to turn her. Edward says they can use his venom, but that Carlisle, who’s an MD, really needs to supervise the process. Bella doesn’t love the idea of Edward’s stepdad cockblocking what’s supposed to be an intimate moment, and so agrees only on the grounds that she gets to have sex with Edward as a human first. Edward’s hella Catholic, so he requests that they get married first. Bella’s super horny, so she demands that the wedding happen within six months. Edward says that he might hurt her during sex, and Bella says that she wants a little hurt during sex. They marry. They bang. During the banging, Edward makes every effort to be controlled and courteous and gentile, while Bella goes wild and crazy. The next morning, she has bruises and he does not. Edward apologizes, but Bella’s actually really into it. She spends a while admiring her sexy vamp-marked self in the mirror, touches the bruises many times, and reminds us yet again that Bella Swan’s whole M.O. is being a monsterfucker. Her kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.

To be clear, I think there are other aspects of the romance that get criticized for good reason. Edward does not negotiate with Bella before sneaking into her room to watch her sleep, and he does make unacceptable use of their power differences when he thinks she’s in danger of being mauled by werewolves. The text condemns Jacob’s “don’t wanna die a virgin” ploy to manipulate a kiss out of Bella, but not the wider conceit of all the male characters as possessing uncontrollable urges. Bella’s struggles to adjust to a new town feel very feminine and realistic; her amused tolerance of Jacob’s and Mike’s sexual harassment as the price for their friendship does not. Werewolf imprinting might be mostly platonic, but that doesn’t make it okay for Meyer to depict it as a form of soulmate bonding that happens with child characters. Those are good points, all around. I just wish that most of them didn’t come up in the context of post-hoc rationalizations for loathing the femininity of a feminine text.

I’m not calling Twilight an unproblematic series. I’m saying that it gets (rightly!) criticized for appropriating Quileute culture, while Buffy’s total absence of main characters of color and blatant anti-Romani racism are (wrongly!) not remarked upon. I'm saying that I’ve been told I’m a misogynist for liking Twilight but not for liking James Bond. I’m saying that there’s a reason people tend to go “oh, that makes so much sense!” when I let them in on the fact that reactive hatred for “Twitards” started and spread on 4Chan, later home of Gamergate and incel culture. I’m saying that Twilight depicts problematic relationship dynamics as sexy — but then so do Vampire Academy, Blue Bloods, Supernatural, Vladimir Tod, and Vampire Diaries. All of which take the time to stop and thumb their noses at Twilight, smug in the superiority of having vampires that fly rather than vampires that sparkle, and for thoroughly condemning teenage girls for being girly while continuing to show men inflicting violence on them.

After all, as Erin May Kelly puts it: “we live in a world taught to hate everything to do with little girls. We hate the books they read and the bands they like. Is there anything the world makes fun of more than One Direction and Twilight?” No one has ever called me a misogynist for liking the MCU, in spite of less than a third of its movies even managing to clear the low-low bar of the Bechdel test. Because people are still allowed to like Harry Potter in spite of its racism, or Lord of the Rings despite its imperialism. Because hatred for Twilight was never about its very real sexism, or the genuinely silly sparkle-vampires, until it had to justify itself as something other than hate for everything that teenage girls have ever dared openly love.

I enjoy the novels, and I enjoy the fan fiction that tries to fix some of the problems with the novels. I appreciate the extent to which Meyer has elevated fan culture, and made an effort to acknowledge her own past mistakes. I would love to be able to talk about my love for the series as a flawed but beautiful work of literature, but for now I’ll settle for asking that the world just let me enjoy it in peace.

#twilight #the twilight saga #breaking dawn #eclipse #new moon #stephenie meyer #fandom #nothing to do with animorphs #misogyny #ableist language #sexist language #long post #sexism #romance #anonymous #asks

5K notes · View notes

indestinatus · 4 years ago

Text

Blank Page

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 16

↳ prompt: Blankets - rated M (1,763 words)

summary: Tony and Ziva actually talk about their feelings and realize that, after Tali, maybe it’s time to take another step into a bright future.

A/N: for @benditlikepress the inspiration, motivation and reason behind this story <3

read it on AO3 📃

Tony licked his lips, sensing her breathing slowing down on his neck. He felt so relaxed his eyelids were threatening to close. Ziva’s weight in his arms was a reminder of the good things in life, and as she drew back to look in his eyes, Tony smiled. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, proof of energy well spent.

He brushed out a curl from her face, noticing how beautiful she looked with the flush on her cheekbones.

Ziva’s thumb caressed his temple and she cast him a small smile, asking, “Are you interested in dating other women?”

Tony breathed out a laugh, surprised by the question and her calming deliverance.

“What?” she quizzed, her brow pulling in.

Tony fought the urge to smile. “I’m literally still inside you.”

Ziva’s eyes trailed his grin and she smiled as well. Her thumbs continued to stroke both his temples, cupping his face.

“French women,” she said almost shyly. “They fancy the American dream.”

Tony wondered what she was thinking, narrowing his eyes a bit as he tried to peek into her head.

“I’m not really into that anymore.”

“They have nice faces.”

He chuckled, then pressed a kiss to her nose. “You have a nice face. Beautiful even.”

Ziva smiled softly and inhaled, her expression turning contemplative again.

“Hey,” Tony called, trying to meet her eyes. “What’s this about?”

She looked at him for a moment, gaze skimming his face. Sighing, Ziva’s hands fell to his naked chest, and Tony placed his own around her waist.

“I am just…” She shook her head. “Thinking. About Tali. About us. I mean… I know we have a daughter now, but… The two of us.” Her eyes found his again, a flicker of uncertainty in them. “Things changed. And then they just happened so fast I wondered… What do you think about it?”

“About…” Tony cautioned, “Us?”

“Yes.”

Ziva’s chest deflated as if she had been holding a breath. Seeing this was about to become an important conversation, Tony slipped out of her, laying down on the bed. He wasn’t surprised that thoughts like this passed her mind, but sometimes it was just unexpected. The Ziva of now just shared them with him as soon as they happened, and it was something he was still getting used to. Years of holding things back hadn’t been as much of good training.

He beckoned her closer, holding the blanket up for her to lay down beside him. Ziva snuggled herself on top of his chest, letting her hair fall around her. He briefly wondered if she could hear his steady heartbeat from where her head was placed.

“If I’d listened to the voice in my head earlier,” Tony said as his fingers made slow patterns down her arm, “We would’ve been together for years now.”

“Really?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

He pressed a kiss to the mass of her hair. “Without a doubt.”

“Oh.”

“Are you…” His fingers halted. “Having doubts?”

Ziva tensed and then relaxed. “No.” She raised one of her hands to play with the hairs of his chest. “No, I am just thinking. The conversation we had the other day…”

“Ah,” replied Tony with a huff. He knew that since they’d discussed it last week, it was bound to reappear again. He just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Apparently, it had bothered her to a degree that it was the first thing she’d brought up after sex. Well, he couldn’t deny it was usually the best time to put the cards on the table. Vulnerability was way easier when naked anyway.

“I mean, I completely understand,” she breathed. “It’s just…”

“Hard.”

“Yes.”

Tony fought the urge to laugh but couldn’t, the sound escaping his lips. Ziva propped her elbow onto the bed, turning to face him. Her forehead was creased, but it appeared to be more out of confusion than anger.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, eyes skimming his face.

“I find it funny.” Tony just couldn’t refrain from smiling, not she was in his arms with that after-sex glow like that, looking at him with big brown eyes.

Beautiful.

“What?”

“You think marriage is too big of a step, yet you want another little us running around.”

Tony beamed and the corners of Ziva’s mouth tilted upwards, perhaps charmed by his grin. They had discussed this some months after they got together, right after Ziva settled into his and Tali’s routine. It was a bit shocking at first, but natural all the same. Both of them knew they weren’t the usual couple, but after all those years, there was just no other path than to stay together. A reality without her just didn’t exist in his eyes.

Tony proposed after a week of rehearsed speeches to the mirror and years of pushing the thought away to the back of his head. He picked a restaurant, then lost the ring and it all went downhill from there… Only for Ziva to ask him for more time.

She knew he would give her anything she’d asked for at that point, but it hurt all the same. His ego wasn’t used to being bruised like that, and perhaps it had been fate that made him lose the ring before he could get down on his knee in front of everyone.

And some part of him knew she was right. Yes, they had spent years together—moving backwards and wasting time—but it all felt different now. They both knew each other so well, nothing could compare to the reality of them just being together, under the same roof.

Until Ziva had asked about his opinion on a second child.

He would never forget how he’d felt. Yes, it had been a secret dream of his perhaps since he’d found out she had Tali—to be a parent with her. To experience it all with her, things that they missed the first time. It felt exhilarating, knowing she wanted them to have that chance.

Though it wasn’t easy to digest. An old, insecure part of him wanted to do everything right and Tony wasn’t certain if not going by the book would assure them the happiness he wanted to give her. Wasn’t they supposed to get married, then live together, and then have a child?

That conversation happened a couple of weeks earlier, and it made him rethink a lot of things. Yes, of course, he wanted to build a family with her. Yes, they could stay like partners forever without any contract if that’s what she wanted—as long as he had her.

Yes, he could see them finding happiness together, even if they just didn’t move at all, even if they just stayed glued to that bed and tangled in bedsheets for the rest of their days—if that wasn’t happiness, then he didn’t know what it was.

“It’s not that crazy, y’know.”

Ziva’s eyebrows lifted, only slightly, as if she couldn’t hold back the surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Tony smiled softly. “I want what you want. Whether it’s staying together, or a child or just breathing the same air... I just want to see you happy.”

Ziva’s hand lifted to brush his hair out of his face. “I also want that. With you.”

Tony felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders when she smiled, one he didn’t even know it was there in the first place.

“So…” he cautioned, “What are you thinking?”

Ziva skimmed his face. “I want to experience it,” she replied softly. “It’s such a selfish thing, but I want to have you by my side. I know…”

“Hey.” Tony lifted her chin, making their eyes meet again. “We’ve talked about this, huh? No beating yourself up.”

Ziva’s expression softened. “Right,” she breathed.

“Stop it.”

“Right.”

A small smile appeared and Tony pulled her gently by the neck to press a soft kiss on her lips, one he hoped it could convey the things he felt.

“You’re the love of my life, Ziva,” he stated, something he always thought he didn’t say enough. “You know that, right?”

Ziva smiled softly, kissing the palm that cupped her cheek.

“You’re my partner,” he added. “God, you could ask me to just stay like this for the rest of our days, and I would die happy. So happy.”

“What about a child?” Her eyes watched his reaction carefully, not pushing any further.

“I think…” Tony let out a sigh. “I’m just worried. We already have Tali and she’s perfect, I don’t know if… I don’t know if we can pull that off again.”

“You’re a wonderful father, Tony.”

Her fingers still played with his hair and Tony felt himself calm down, the relaxing after-orgasm feeling hitting him again.

“Yeah…” He smiled. “I’m just concerned they’ll get more of your genes this time. Mine are obviously better.”

She smiled as well. “Obviously.”

“Hm,” he pursed his lips, tilting her head a little to press them to her hairline.

“I think we should try it.”

“Before… getting married?”

“We’ve been acting like a married couple for years.”

Tony chuckled. “That’s true.”

Ziva searched his eyes again, placing her lips softly against his before asking, “Hm?”

He smiled through the kiss. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She drew back then, and her eyes were sparkling. God, how come he’d been this lucky?

“Just don’t have twins,” he said, yearning a low laugh from her that reverberated across his chest.

“I thought you weren’t on board.”

“A man needs to adapt quickly.”

Ziva kissed him again, the kiss lingering this time. He closed his eyes, savoring it. His hand dug into her hair, pulling her closer.

“I love you,” she said after some time.

Tony opened his eyes and was met with the beautiful picture of her face still very close to his.

“I love you, too.”

“Let’s just see where it takes us, is that okay?”

He nodded, then breathed out a laugh. “God knows how Tali was accidental. Leaving this to chance just makes me think of a thousand little ninjas just knocking things over all the time.”

“Is that too bad?”

“With you?” His heart skipped a beat at Ziva’s soft smile, and he wondered how she still managed to do that after all those years.

“No,” Tony replied. “No, it’s not.”

Ziva smiled then, this wide, blinding grin that made him fall in love all over again.

“I think we will be alright,” she said as she snuggled herself back onto his chest.

“We’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Tony pressed a kiss to the mass of her hair. “We’ll be fine.”

#tiva #tiva fanfiction #tivatober2020 #once upon a halloween #my fics #<3 who needs plotting anyway? let's just breathe the lack of worries #im so soft from reading jess fic this is all too soft <333 #anyway love you!!!

33 notes · View notes

zahra-kha · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Diary 33 pt 1

So, I’ve had a lot to think about since I’ve last written in you. A diary is meant to house ones innermost thoughts and feelings. But I think for a while I was too angry and in my head to properly convey the things I felt, and I just had to set you aside until I could sit down and put pen to paper.

I think I was angry with the world. Angry at myself, for a lot of reasons, really.

Angry for feeling like a fool for believing in people. And then angry because that’s not how life works and I know it. Everyone is different and sometimes selfish people hurt you. But there are good people in the world too, like my parents who took in a complete stranger’s child and raised her as their own. I had to pray for guidance and temperance. Understanding. I’ve done a lot of praying to the gods and meditating of late. It’s helped.

I was angry at my friends. I was very angry with them for a while. I love them, and I love their caring nature, but sometimes their meddlesome nature is fucking annoying. Especially if it blatantly ignores your own concern for their well being and safety to go traipsing into territory you’ve already told them you’ve explored to go looking for what? More traps, I guess? Oh cool, go get a knife in your gut like I did, that’s what I want to see. My week can’t get any better at this point!

Gods, I was so angry with them. It didn’t help I was reeling from the blow of knowing pretty much my entire time and life with my troupe was a lie, and hearing them all dissect it, and those who I used to call family, like it was some sort of mystery to be solved, and not like they were people who I had loved and cherished really, really stung. It hurt. It felt insensitive, even though I know they were just trying to help. I know and understand that, and to them my troupe are just strangers they’ve never met, while I’m someone they care about and want to protect.

But I’m protective over all of the people I care about, and I can’t just shut off my feelings for some people just because they decided to up and betray me. I think I just...needed some time to process my feelings but the time wasn’t there. Everything was happening so fast and needed to be resolved quickly.

I ended up snapping at Quin at one point and I felt horrible afterwards. I really didn’t know the answer to his question, but that didn’t really justify anything. Regardless of how I was feeling (which, truth be told was pure ass) I should have been better. I should try and do something nice for him as an apology. I’m not sure what that could be though, he looked horrified the last time I gave him a gift so I’m not quite sure what he’d like.

Most importantly, when it came to my anger, I was angry the most at the ones who were trying to hurt everyone. Of course I know Sai is behind it. And I am angry with Armand since he did try to kill me, but Esila too? Should I also be angry with Sahrin? I’m not sure if he’s behind all of this, but he’s definitely tied in somehow or another. Fitaan? I don’t know, but as far as I can tell, no one is innocent and I can’t trust any of them. It’s heart breaking, and it makes me angry.

I loved them, and trusted them. They were my family. My home away from home. I knew none of them. They were all strangers to me, and I think that’s why I’m the angriest at them - because that hurts more than anything. How do you spend so many years being around people and know absolutely nothing about them as a person?

See? My mind is still going around in circles whenever I get to this point, and I just get enraged all over again. This is why I stalled writing in you. I want to scream, cry, rip something apart. I knew them since I was twelve, and they still tried to kill me. What did I mean to them? What have I ever meant to them?

I’m tired.

Anyway, I tried to push that out of my mind to focus on anything else. Blitzball, I guess. We had our game and won, which was fantastic....or would have been, except the Storm Sirens’ insane captain decided instead of letting us enjoy our victory she’d violently assault our co-captain.

So that turned into a fight.

Not a riot, thankfully, but I swung some kicks and punches. Eventually it was broken up but poor Scorpius....I hope he’s still able to have children.

I was on edge after that and the mood was soured so I went home. Later Aria, one of the opponents I’d been getting friendly with on the field, sent me an apology letter (with a box of fresh squid and some cookies!) and asked if I would be amiable to dinner. We’d discussed good places to eat prior to all that nonsense, so I was happy to go after I’d calmed down.

The dinner date was nice. I’m not sure what Aria’s relationship with the butler was at the restaurant, but it seemed tense? Regardless, we were able to get some food and chat about ourselves. I learned a bit about Aria and how she became a retainer, and it really seemed she wanted to know about me. I...found out it was because she had a crush on me and I think she asked me out?

Not that she isn’t attractive! She is and she has a fun personality! And as a performer she’s amazing! But I had to be honest with her - there was no way I could get involved with someone when I already had feelings for someone else. Even if they’re one-sided on my part, I told her it wouldn’t be fair to her.

She asked me if I was sure my feelings were one sided which threw me off because well, of course they are! I told her I was at least 85% sure. I don’t seem like I would be his type. I don’t think. It’s not something I wanna think about! I get flustered enough!

A N Y W A Y, eventually she admitted she had actually wanted to confess to me because there’s someone in her life she has feelings for and she was hoping that by conveying her budding feelings for me it’d help her move on. I can understand that. I confided to her about how my Sakura song at Hanami was about my own heartbreak, falling again for the person I currently like, and my struggle from running away from those feelings to acceptance and being at peace with just having those feelings. We had a laugh about it.

Then we got a call from Scorpius, who was at the Gyuki clinic, so we went to visit him.

#zahra's diary #zahra kha #zahra kouris #ic

3 notes · View notes

briarrosescurse · 4 years ago

Note

acbovwz xiangvinh 🕳🤸‍♀️ this totally is not vy, dont look at the blog name

omg ofc this isn't vy 😳 it's the empress of the gooses, duh

A - Activities: What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

xiang has a preference for more lively and exciting dates. while spending time together in one of their rooms, just hanging out, can be relatively relaxing and good too, he likes doing something where he gets to move.

he finds doing something like escape rooms can be extremely fun - albeit, he realized, working together with vinh, makes them almost too easy quite often.

if vinh would be down for it, he wouldn't mind doing something extreme such as bumgee jumping as a date. he'd love to see her reaction. 🙈

sometimes, vinh also watches xiang train, since that's how he likes to spend his time. every time, he offers her a good training battle, but really, there would be an unfair advantage for him.

B - Beauty: What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

xiang's good ol' nickname 'pretty lady' has its reason of course - while almost sleazy, he only calls vinh that. he finds her beauty incredibly unique. composed, regal, a calm beauty. her cold gaze, the way she carries herself - all of it, he deems it beautiful. at the same time, he finds her uncomposed, her intense, her selfish side just as beautiful.

physically though, he finds a lot about her beautiful. the color of her red eyes, the way her dark hair falls over her back and turns into a small flame at the end, her slender stature (and especially slender legs) - he thought about this a lot and realized that, wow, this is horribly cheesy, isn't it, but he recognizes beauty when he sees it 😌

C - Comfort: How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

i'm specifically imagining a panic attack-like scenario here - vinh, haunted by nightmares maybe, wakes up in the middle of the night, in tears. and xiang notices that - so he holds her in his arms. he holds her close, but doesn't have much to say, really. it's the least he can do.

probably would stroke her hair carefully and letting her cry her heart out. seeing her so... unhappy and dishelved genuinely angers him. he doesn't like seeing her like this. it's... painful. but he tries to remind her that he is here. with her.

it slightly reminds him of his mother when his father died - she too broke down into tears so often and xiang was helpless, unsure how to react, until his older brother came and helped their mother.

so xiang would at least like to try and make himself useful this time.

O - On Cloud Nine: What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

xiang in love is... surprisingly not as subtle as you'd expect him to be. the change in his behavior towards vinh is gradual, but the little things of genuine affection keep piling up and she can't help but wonder about how he feels...

only other people who know him well would notice it (namely whore squad), but even then, he wouldn't admit to anything.

his little gesture just include really little things that are quite telling on its own - one time, xiang was gone for a while, on a trip back home, and when he came back to nrc, he had given vinh a tiny charm of a donkey. he told her it reminded him of her.

other than that... in the mornings, he started to stick around longer. he likes to rub her back when he sees her working again as nrc's secretary. he even asked her to take care of his hair after he took a shower.

V - Value: How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

again, even if xiang refuses to outright say it, he treasures his relationship with vinh very much. he never really had such a close connection to anyone before - after all, xiang tried quite hard to keep his emotional distance to anyone.

i believe he started to really treasure this once he was sure he had lost it. "you never know what you have until you lose it" sorta sense.

i think it's quite comparable to the relationship he has with his friends and his ride or die attitude - of course, on another level, but he definitely holds it quite high in regard.

W - Wild Card: A random Fluff Headcanon

when vinh used her unique magic to its full extent and she was in a comatose-like state, xiang made sure to visit her as often as he could. during the first days, he even stayed by her side during the night. even if his back complained about the uncomfortable chair he sat in, he stuck around.

vinh didn't know until idia told her so, but when she had passed out and xiang caught her, he genuinely believed she had died in that moment and idia saw an expression on xiang's face he never thought he'd see. he had trouble describing it - but idia can confirm firmly that it was far from joyous.

Z - Zeal: Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

xiang is a ride or die kind of guy. almost literally too. he is willing to go great lengths for vinh, even if it means to sacrifice his own life.

on a lighter note though; for vinh, he is willing to get over himself and improve himself - as in stopping with his flings entirely and genuinely being able to say "this lady is my girlfriend, the person i love"

vinh has become pretty important to him - so of course, he is willing to do anything that he needs to do if it means to ensure her wellbeing. that is his way of conveying his feelings

#twst oc #[my writing]#fluff alphabet #xiang yu #vinh torch #[xiang/vinh]#help this is the second time i wrote this all im nfjrkdkrk

23 notes · View notes

nuricurry · 4 years ago

Text

Saint Seiya | Ikki/Hyoga PG-13; “all i’ll ever be to you is someone else”

It’s strange, the way things change between them. When they become ‘something else’ rather than just associates or comrades, or even just friends. There are things that are different, but things that stay the same, and maybe that’s why the transition feels so awkward and stilted and incomplete, because they were picking up things in the middle.

They had known each other since they were children, they had begun a lifetime of conflict and rivalry at an early age, but now that they’re older, it’s all a little different. Childhood spats about deciding who got to pick the game they played are different now at age seventeen, when their responsibilities are greater, the costs higher, the risks more steep. Now they fight about making the hard choice in sparing their enemy mercy or not, they fight over the fact that Ikki wants to dive into danger all on his own, while Hyoga chases after his shadow, picking up broken pieces left in his wake. That much will probably never change, the chasing, the fighting, the bickering. But there are new fights now, ones that Hyoga still doesn’t quite know how to navigate. He knows what arguments to give when Ikki pushes him away during a fight. He knows what to expect, when a new enemy rises and they haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in over a month. What he doesn’t know is how to tell Ikki that he wants him to stay the night, not because he’s afraid he’ll get hurt, but because he likes his company. He doesn’t know how to tell him that he wants to touch him in a way that isn’t meant to hurt-- no punching, no grappling, no shoving or hitting. What he wants is for the two of them to hold hands. He wants them to kiss. He wants to look at Ikki and not see anger there, not see a scowl or frustration. He doesn’t know how to argue that telling someone that he’s in love with him isn’t about manipulation or coercion, sometimes it’s just conveying emotion and affection and it wouldn’t kill Ikki to say those words back, once in a while.

There are times when they are lying together on his bed in the apartment in Omsk and he feels as if he’s choking on memories, yet it’s still when things are so incredibly new. Something about the way that Ikki looks lying on his side across the bed from him, just looking at him, it feels like something that Hyoga’s seen before. Something in the unguarded rawness between his gaze and Hyoga’s is familiar when it shouldn’t be. The first time they have sex, when Ikki is pressing his back into the mattress and he has his hips pushed upwards with his legs around his waist, it feels like they’ve done this a dozen times before. It feels like they don’t need to ask, don’t need to test waters about what will and won’t work, what they do and don’t like, because their bodies already know. He has doubts that they could possibly be so compatible-- no one ever really is, not the first time, not the first dozen times-- but Ikki doesn’t want to talk about it when it’s over. He just wants to roll over and sleep, and so that’s what they do.

That night, and every night after, when Ikki is beside him, Hyoga has dreams he can’t explain. Dreams about a boy with bright blue eyes and a secret smile, about a childhood that isn’t his. Fields of wheat and aquamarine seas, completely unlike the cold tundra and black waters he knows best. In his dreams, his hands hold bows and pots and small childrens’ hands. In his dreams, he lies on the grass in hot summers, and that boy with his blue eyes and infectious laugh lies beside him. He wakes up after those dreams with his heart full and heavy in his chest, and he never knows why, because they’re just dreams. He compares their fights to broken bones. It’s a fracture born of trauma, a result of pressure building and building until finally parts of their bodies snap. It’s a wound that isn’t immediately obvious on the surface, it’s felt more than it’s seen, and it’s not something that can be easily healed. It takes time for things to be stitched back together for them, it takes them setting things into place and letting it heal over, hoping that the bones fuse together the right way, that they won’t just break again with the next slightest bit of pressure. But like broken bones, those cracks remain, and they never go away. They calificy, they get harder and crust over, but they can’t ever return to their previous state; the memory cannot be erased and its effect on them will remain, for the rest of their lives. Their relationship is like a mirror, chipped and cracked and broken, then put back together again. It can be fixed, but it can never be perfect, it will always be just a breath away from shattering again, into even smaller pieces the next time. The first time they really break is when they fight about dying. When Ikki throws himself headfirst into a fight he can’t win, and he doesn’t come back out. For months, Hyoga walks around, feeling like there’s something lodged in his chest, a huge sharp knife sinking deeper and deeper into his heart, painful enough that he feels like he’s splitting into two. He feels like he’s half-dead the whole time, like his soul was sucked out of him when he heard that there’s nothing that remains of Ikki’s body, and they’re sure he’s gone this time.

He dreams of stormy seas, of his hand desperately reaching for someone else’s. He dreams about blue eyes and a bottomless pit, of hands touching his face and promising him that he’s not alone, that death isn’t the end, it is just a bump in the road. Trying to hold onto that voice, that feeling of warm and comfort, is like trying to grab onto smoke. It slips through his fingers like it doesn’t exist at all, and he just wakes up every day with tears on his face, and a name he can never remember on the tip of his tongue.

When Ikki comes back, whole, reborn, it’s the splint put onto their relationship. It’s the morphine that blinds Hyoga to the pain, makes it all a little more manageable, a little fuzzy on the edges. He forgets about the nightmares and the loneliness and the knife in his chest. Until he asks that Ikki never does that again, and Ikki refuses to promise him.

He knows his duty, he says, he agreed to accept this life and all it’s dangers, all it’s trails, when he agreed to put on the armor. He’s not going to back down because Hyoga’s afraid, because Hyoga can’t commit to anything that might end up being difficult.

Their fight is less about dying, and more about commitment, because Hyoga tells him that Ikki is only so quick to offer his life because the risk is negligible. Because it’s easy to die and harder to live, because Ikki doesn’t have to face consequences if he dies, he doesn’t have to see the damage he leaves behind when he does.

They have angry, furious, violent sex on the couch, not even bothering to try and make it to a bed. They push and bite and dig their nails in because it hurts but it’s real, it’s a screaming neon sign that tells them that they’re alive, they’re both here, and they can afford to do something so stupid and selfish again.

For a week after, Hyoga dreams of soft, gentle kisses, of a warm body wrapped around his late at night. He dreams of words of praise, words of comfort whispered into his ears, of an arm heavy and familiar draped over his waist, and fingers tracing indistinct symbols into his stomach. He wonders if those dreams are all in his head, or if maybe Ikki is the one prompting them, late at night after he’s fallen asleep. Ikki denies it, he tells him to stop talking about his dreams because they’re blinding him to reality, but there’s a fear in his eyes when he says those words that Hyoga has never seen before.

It becomes a loop, the structure of their relationship. A cycle that they don’t know how to break. They fight. They break. They make up. They fight. They break. They make up. The same three steps over and over again, in varying degrees, in different lengths. The breaks are shorter when the fights are longer. Because when they’re fighting over Ikki never giving Hyoga a key to his apartment, it’s not about keys, it’s about trust and establishing Hyoga in his life. That’s a long fight, a fight that lasts months, and is fixed with a slapped on band-aid of a copy of Ikki’s key but instructions to never be there when Ikki isn’t. But that also means that when the fights are shorter, the breaks are longer, they’re one of those deep bone breaks, the crack right down the center of the mirror’s reflection. When they fight about Shun, it’s a short fight, but it’s short in the way a bomb denotation is short. It only takes seconds for their worlds to completely fall apart, with an accelerant in the mix.

He doesn’t know why he never said anything before. That’s a lie; he knows why. He knows it would break things and that’s exactly what it did. Explanations meant nothing when they came under duress. Words like before and different and why are you holding this against me? we weren’t together fall on deaf ears. Arguing that it’s not a betrayal when there was nothing between them to break doesn’t work because Ikki wants to be angry, and Hyoga can’t take those things back. “When were you going to tell me you fucked my brother?” Ikki says with his whole chest, and Hyoga can only plead for him to understand.

He can’t lie and say it didn’t mean anything, because it did. Because he does care about Shun, and they did share things together. But feelings are not a zero-sum game; it doesn’t take away from his feelings for Ikki, for Hyoga to have feelings for Shun. They both have their pasts, they both have histories outside of each other, but Hyoga knows that it’s different, it’s different because it’s too close, it’s a line that’s far too easily blurred.

And so they break, and they crumble, and they turn to dust. Finally they’ve reached the point where there is nothing left to mend.

Hyoga dreams of fire, of a city razed to the ground. He dreams of cold air on his neck, of arms around his waist, but no comfort in that embrace. He dreams of apologies and cries for help trapped behind his teeth, unable to be said because there is no one there to say them to. He dreams of Ikki beside him, standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out over the precipice of their misery. He dreams of them letting go, and falling into the abyss together, dying over and over again hoping to be reborn the right way, in the right time

They return to the earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

#saint seiya #fanfiction #phoenix ikki #cygnus hyoga #fairly self indulgent with references to my ocs with Kashuan lol

9 notes · View notes

chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years ago

Text

Fairy Contentious || Morgan and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Downtown PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: There’s nothing awkward about finding a dead body between sometimes friends

Try as she might, Morgan still missed her humanity from time to time. Zombie personhood was alright, more than alright on some days, but in the heat of July, she missed the sweat on her back, the tanning and freckling of her skin, and the sharp, palpable comfort of a dive into cold water. She missed dollar soft serve from Whataburger. She missed spiked slushies. She missed having more of the world to share in. Lately it seemed like death had taken more than just her heartbeat, but was eating away at the world she had left too. There was Bea, and the human her sisters had sacrificed to bring her back. There were all those guards at the Ring and the woman whose body had turned shallow and empty beneath her hands. There was Erin and whatever she was getting up to her head in. There was the mummified pixie at the carnival. And then there were all the people she knew, people she loved better than most others, with blood on their hands. Was there any escaping it? Morgan turned down another block downtown, thinking more of her momentum than what shops she was nearby, aching for a burn, for something outside of herself to remember life being good and free and in her reach. What she saw instead was Kaden. Morgan stopped in her tracks and locked eyes with him. This is what she got for using binary words in her thoughts, wasn’t it? Morgan’s hand lifted in a hesitant wave.

This whole ordeal with Regan was more than taking its toll on Kaden. Maybe less the ordeal and more the lack of sleep that came with it. Closing his eyes brought nothing but worse case scenarios and for the most part, when he tried, he still couldn’t find sleep. Not to mention, the less he slept, the more hours in the day he had to try and find her. He’d searched plenty around her place and that had been a bust. So had the locator spell. So had all the hunters in town. So many leads and nothing concrete. Wandering the town was as good an attempt as anything else. Granted, he had no idea how long he’d been walking by now, if he had even seen her at all or if he was even paying attention anymore. He was so lost in thought he nearly ran into someone. “Sorry,” he mumbled, not meaning it. As he shuffled out of the way, he saw Morgan just behind them. Of course. “Hey,” he said flatly. Even if he’d wanted to convey any emotion, he couldn’t pull out any energy to display them. Funny he ran into a zombie while he felt something like the walking dead. At least what he assumed it felt like. Pretty numb, a lot of pain. He wanted to make a biting comment or five but he was just too tired to find any worth saying. “You good?” was all he could manage to say.

Morgan couldn’t remember the last time ‘you good’ hadn’t been a loaded question. She folded her arms over herself, fiddling with her sleeves as she tried to come up with an answer. She still didn’t feel completely right after what happened at the Ring. She would do it all again, but the weight of death was different than the weight of the retribution she doled out from time to time. “I’m fine,” she said at last. “You?” It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t doing so hot. There were shadows around his eyes thick as a ditch and a wasted, hangdog look, sunken and tired. “Looks like it’s been a heck of a time.” Normally she would have asked if she could do anything to help, but the words caught in her throat.

“I’m fine.” The words spilled from Kaden’s lips before he had a second to think about his answer. He was really fucking far from fine but he really didn’t want to explain it. Least of all to her. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the mess out of his way. Of course she caught onto him quick. “Haven’t slept much this week. That’s all.” Sure, that was true, but he was holding back the real reason. Part of him wanted to get this over with, but he also wanted to know if she was ever going to fucking acknowledge what had happened in the woods the other day. What had really happened, not the fairytale ending bullshit version she was harboring. Right. Doubtful. He should just fuck this and walk away, cut his losses. He needed to find Regan. This was just a waste of time. Then again… Putain. He sure as shit didn’t want Morgan’s help right now. But it was selfish and stupid not to get all hands on deck at the moment. “Regan’s missing. And also about the size of a pixie.”

It took all of Morgan’s willpower not to snort with laughter. This was a real pickle for Kaden and his distress was real. Also, there was a chance that Thumbel-Regan would come out of this traumatized in ways your average licensed therapist wouldn’t know how to cope with. But Stars, a tinkerbell sized medical examiner? Did she have a tiny lab coat? Or a tiny turtleneck? Morgan couldn’t help but snigger in the back of her throat. Mad as she was with Kaden, it wasn’t enough to kill the image in her head. “That uh, does sound like a wee problem, yeah,” she said, working her face into a more serious expression. “Do you know, uh, if she can fly? You guys didn’t happen to work out a hand clapping signal by any chance?” She cleared her throat. The universe was offering her a gift and she definitely didn’t want to turn it away. “Where have you looked so far? Maybe we could try by the butcher? Or the farmer’s market? Maybe she’s following her death spidey senses.”

Kaden rolled his eyes the second he caught that all too familiar look. The one that meant biting back laughter. He saw it on Blanche’s face enough the other day to recognize it. Granted, Morgan was doing a better job at reeling it in than pipsqueak had. It was annoying as shit all the same. “Fucking hilarious. Yup. It was fucking hilarious. Less so now when birds and squirrels are trying to eat her. But fine. Whatever, Morgan. Guess you only care when zombies are in danger.” He’d had no intention of actually mentioning the incident with whats-her-name the zombie but it sure fucking spilled out anyway. “Are you going to fucking help or are you going to keep making--” Before he could finish snipping at her, she brought up some decent suggestions. “I don’t know where I looked anymore. I just keep watching the ground. She can hover a bit so I guess I should look everywhere.” He rubbed his face. He was so stressed and so fucking tired, he wanted to just collapse into it, but he was determined to not give up. He could stop when Regan was safe. “I’ll look there. Fine.”

Morgan’s grin faded. “Seriously? I help save your ass in a diner, tell you what I am, help you with your denial girlfriend, and you think I only care about myself? Or my species? Is that a real thing or do you really just not get what it might’ve been like to see you cut into a woman just like me like she was a rabid animal? After, may I remind you, I pulled her off you, told you to run, and let me handle it.” It was like they hadn’t seen even close to the same thing. Like they hadn’t even been in the same place. Morgan shook her head. Kaden could be incredibly decent, often enough that she bristled uncomfortably at her initial distaste for him and the fear, the bitterness, she still held in some shrunken part of her. But this was not one of those times. This was the kind of moment that made her wonder why she didn’t just plant that bitterness and let it grow over everything else. Still, she straightened herself up as tall as her tiny body would allow and pointed in the direction. “You wouldn’t find a cheese fry if I jammed it up your nose with that much sleep deprivation. I’ll help clear that area with you.”

Kaden ground his teeth as he held back a comment about a good chunk of that sounding like self preservation. Whether that was true or not, he didn’t have the fucking energy. He was not going to waste what he had left on her. Until she kept going. “I cut into her like a rabid animal because that's what she was!” he said, reeling back to face her. “She was gone! There was nothing left! She was going to kill me! It nearly did! A few times! And you did not have it handled! If I ran, what the fuck was to stop her from killing whatever human walked by next? Or do you even care?!” So much for not wasting his breath. One thing he could say was the anger jolted him with energy. Mostly he just wanted to use it to punch something. Or storm off. But it didn’t seem like it was going to work because she was insisting on following him. “I told you I’m fine. But if you want to come I can’t stop you. Public fucking place.” That wasn’t quite true, he could stop her. Just not in any way that was remotely acceptable.

Morgan had turned to lead the way but no. That would just be way too easy and make too much sense. She clenched her fists at her sides. There were things that mattered more than this. Hypothetically, these things included Thumbel-Regan. But Kaden’s words cut into her fresh, reminding Morgan what had been so awful about that day beyond Ashley’s ruined body. “She was just starving. And I was trying to help both of you, dumbass. If you didn’t have your head so far up your arsenal, you might’ve figured that out.” She stormed ahead of him, fists clenched, and started for the butcher’s. This was a mistake; she should’ve just stayed home.

“She was just starving?! There’s no just starving from zombies. Starving gets humans killed.” Kaden continued as he followed after her. He really couldn’t figure out what about this was so hard for her to understand. Even if she did have noble goddamn intentions, she didn’t have it handled. That zombie was going to kill someone, even if it wasn’t him. “And you met her before, right? Seems like she didn’t want your fucking help.” He was considering telling her the same right now. But she wasn’t wrong about him being exhausted. Maybe not about the rest of it, but she had that much correct. He was ready to collapse. He almost wanted to ask if they were there yet.

“Of course that’s all you care about,” Morgan grumbled. She kept walking, fists clenched, trying not to think about how right Kaden was about the last part. Ashley had been lucid when she ran away from her and Rio. All those animals wouldn’t have lasted very long, but enough for her to do...something. She could have dug up a fresh body from the cemetery if she was desperate, or pounced on a deer. The smell from the woods was intoxicating sometimes, it would have been impossible to miss. So why had she been back at square one so soon. You shouldn’t have done that, that’s what she’d told Morgan. But Kaden couldn’t know that, right? Morgan pressed on ahead, crossing the next block, when she caught the smell. Death. Still soft, ripe death. Morgan came to a stop. They were still downtown, what was she smelling, some unlucky bird? “Wait.” she said. “Maybe…” Regan would be pulled to it too if she was nearby, right? “Do you smell that?” She looked around them, feeling a familiar sharp twist in her stomach. It couldn’t be too far.

“Oh, not dying? Other people not fucking dying? Right. What a fucking terrible thing to care about.” All of Kaden’s hopes for an apology were shot to hell. Not that he was holding out too much to begin with. Why the fuck she wanted to spend so much time defending a monster, he didn’t understand. Sure, she was a zombie, too, but not like that. And if she had tried to help earlier and failed… He had to wonder how many other people were in danger or if this had happened before. How many times had someone pitied a zombie only for them to slip back and take a human life? Was it only a matter of time until that was Morgan? Fuck. Not what he wanted on his mind right now. He stared ahead as he followed her. The scent hit him before he saw anything. That was death and decay alright. No mistaking it. “Of course I smell that. Hard to miss.” Especially with human senses, he thought. Still, there was no denying that carcasses and cadavers were siren songs to a banshee, in a way. “You can sense death, too, right? Not the same way but you know,” he asked as she guided them towards the source of the stench.

“We’re people too,” Morgan grumbled. But of course Kaden wouldn’t see it that way. Maybe Deirdre had been right all those months ago. Maybe telling Kaden she died really had been stupid. She couldn’t help but smirk dryly at his question. “If you mean sense it the way I used to be able to sense fried chicken and waffles from two blocks away, then yeah, sure.” It wasn’t the same kind of comforting, soul-pulling call she understood the banshee death pull to be. A dead body called to Morgan’s insides like it wanted to devour everything she was and claim her for itself. Ravaged, held, and erased into a relief that came from no intelligence whatsoever. Morgan salivated as she turned down an alley and peeked around a dumpster, a common enough spot for finding felled birds and-- “No. Fuck...fuck, no, no…” She turned around and started to walk right back out the alley, clutching her stomach, but she couldn’t get the sight out of her head. The scales on the girl’s arms were scraped raw and crusted with blood from the mangled mess where her hands were supposed to be. And her face...her face was a ruin of burns and iron. Morgan had only been able to tell from her hair that it hadn’t been Mina. Morgan clamped a hand over her mouth, grimacing as her insides reached back for the body. She sank to the ground and dumped the contents of her bag, trembling. She had a snack in there somewhere to keep from eating roadkill in public, but she couldn’t make her fingers work the tupperware lid. She couldn’t stop seeing that girl. She had one eye, overexposed from her melted lids and staring up pitifully, dead and empty towards the street, towards the river that might’ve been her home. Morgan’s eyes filled with tears, too thick to see through, and let everything in her hands fall.

Kaden’s stomach churned at the thought of comparing decomposing flesh to food. And the combination of chicken and waffles. There was no reason any of those things should go together. That’s not what churned his stomach when they turned the corner. There was no mistaking that was a dead body sprawled out in front of them. It was strange to find one downtown and without Regan nearby, at that. Unless, she was. He paused to listen for any small screams or calls out to him. But he heard nothing but Morgan’s muttering as she turned away. Kaden stayed in place, finally allowing what was in front of him to really sink in. That wasn’t a human body, it was something else. Inhuman, the scales alone gave it away. His mouth pulled into a thin line as he assessed the situation. He looked for webbed fingers but couldn’t find her hands. The slits on the side of her neck were still easy enough to see. “A nix,” he said. A very mangled, very tormented nix at that. He crouched down to get a better look. Marks where iron instruments had surely burned into her, lacerations covering her body, and it looked like whoever did this had tried to split her legs again. It was hard to say how long the body had been there, not too long if he had to guess. Still, it was cold, it’s not like they’d missed the moment by mere minutes or anything. His cold assessment of the facts were easier to process, they were there, unchanging. What it all meant, how he felt about it, that was harder. Something he didn’t want to touch. The sound of something hitting the pavement made his head jerk back to see Morgan again. She’d dropped.. tupperware? Odd. “You alight?” he asked as he stood and turned to face her.

Morgan was gritting her teeth, trying to hold her body still. Snacking usually helped, gave her appetite something to fixate on, but she wasn’t usually this upset when she passed death during her every-day life. She tried breathing, maybe that would be a good distraction. “Need...food,” she said. “She’s...I can’t...after what she’s been through...I can’t…” Couldn’t destroy her any further. Couldn’t treat her like stuff. There was nothing natural about what was left of her body, nothing balanced about a death like that. Tortured, butchered for parts, left with the garbage to be...what? Ignored? Mistaken for someone’s film class final? Morgan sat back, banging her head against the side of the building. That wasn’t doing much good. “Can you open it? It’s not human, I just need…” Some relief. To not feel herself wanting for the soft candy of her insides. Stars, it was probably sweeter than anything she’d had yet too… And if she hadn’t been brutalized, Morgan wouldn’t have been able to imagine them with half as much detail. She grimaced and dug her shaking hands into her knees. “Just do it, just open it!”

It took a few seconds for the pieces to click together as Kaden watched her. Shit. Dead body. Zombie. Even after arguing with her back and forth about zombie rights and how often she took sheer glee in reminding him of what she was, he sometimes still forgot. Had to wonder if it was on purpose. Likely was. “You can’t what?” His brow furrowed as she explained further. Shit. He had to go over there. Open the container for her. He took a deep, shaky breath as he steeled himself to follow through on her request. There wasn’t much out there that scared Kaden. Truly scared him. Being bit or turned by anything undead was one of them. But he had to trust his friend. Bolting and running sounded easier, even in a dead end alleyway. Still, he walked forward and reached out for the tupperware, hand shaking as he pulled it towards him. He fumbled for a second as he tried to rip the lid open. This was fine. They’d both be fine. This was probably unwarranted fear. He held the container out to her for her, trying his fucking best not to look at what was in there. Even if it wasn’t human, he didn't want to know.

Morgan took the tupperware and shoved her dead flesh salad into her mouth by the handful. The flesh slid down her throat easily, offering its subtle flavor between the bits of diced brain. Her stomach settled and with the animal rage in her stomach had settled down more into an agitated grumble, she could make more room for what she’d seen, for trying to figure out what to do. They couldn’t just leave her there with the garbage, right? Then again, they couldn’t exactly call this in to the police. Regan was the size of a pixie and the number of incorrect to dehumanizing conclusions she might manage to come to were enough to make Morgan feel sick all over again. She couldn’t take her home, at least not by herself. She barely had the restraint to walk away and keep herself from making a meal out of her body. Morgan tried to breathe, tried to make each bite last longer. Distraction, that was the thing. As long as she could distract her body, she could be okay. “Thank you,” she said at last. “You didn’t manage to...I don’t know...notice if she had any stuff with her, did you?”

Kaden let out the breath he hadn’t intended to hold as she ate the contents of the container. It was fine. She had control. They’d be fine. There was no need for this to turn into-- It was fine. Kaden rolled his shoulders back and shook off any of the nerves he had before, like he could will his pulse back to a normal, steady rhythm. If only it were that simple. The distraction she offered to everything going on was more than welcome. “Any stuff? Uh, no. Not sure. I didn’t check.” He walked back over to the body and it all hit him again. Different this time. The more he saw it, the harder it was to just focus on facts. His mind tried to piece things together, make connections, as much as he wished it wouldn’t. He bend down and tried to feel around her clothes where there might be pockets, something left behind. It made him feel less like a hunter or even a cop and more like a petty thief. His stomach sank like a pit as the reality of this hit him a little deeper. This was a dead nix. Yes. He knew that. And on another level, what was this? A dead fae. Alright. But what did that mean? It meant someone killed a fae. Didn’t just murder them, no. Tortured them. Her. Putain. He was jumping to conclusions, there was no way to say this was a hunter who did it, but it was hard not to wonder. And if it was a hunter, that likely meant that it was a warden. And if it was a warden and they were nearby. And if Regan was nearby. And if they found her before he d-- Kaden realized he was sitting on the ground next to the body no longer searching it, just trying to keep the world from collapsing in on him as his breath quickened, shallow and ineffective. Calm. He had to be calm. He had to think clearly if he wanted to help or be useful or fucking anything. Why couldn’t he do that?

Morgan waited. And waited. She couldn’t remember what the nix had been wearing, it had to be something right? Maybe she at least had a wallet stuffed in her back pocket, something to give her a name, that could help them treat her like a person again. Then again she wasn’t, not anymore. The person was gone, this was just her remains, her body, her story. That wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t nothing. It deserved some dignity, some small, stupid scrap of respect. Morgan chewed slowly. “Kaden?” She called. “Kaden--? What did you find?”

Morgan’s voice snapped Kaden out of his panic. A little. It was still a bit of a struggle to keep getting air into his lungs. But he needed it to reply. “Nothing,” he managed to push out between shallow breaths. “Nothing yet.” Okay. Alright. If there was a warden nearby he’d deal with it. Later. Right now he was examining the body. Like any of this mattered. Come to think of it, why was he doing this? Because she asked. Right. But why? How was this going to help them find Regan. This was just a dead fae, what did it matt-- A thought creeped into his head. One he had to push away. Desperately. He couldn’t even imagine that right now. This wasn’t Regan. It wasn’t even a banshee. The body in front of him, she didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Finding his hopefully still alive fae girlfriend, that’s what mattered. But he had a sinking feeling if he didn’t try, Morgan would. To likely disastrous results. Alright. Looting the fucking body it was. He checked around for a purse or some shit like that, nothing. Front pockets of what was left of her shorts, also nothing. Fuck. He’d have to turn over the body. No time like the present. He swallowed back any disgust and pushed it over. There wasn’t a whole lot of solid flesh or scales left, like it was picked clean after a good bit of flesh burned off. He expected to find more of the same, may even more decay on the other side of the corpse. Shockingly enough, there was something in her back pocket still there. A phone. With a wallet attached to the case, one of those small things that held cards. He figured there wasn’t going to be much more useful than that. There wasn’t much else to identify her by anyway. “Uh got this,” he said once he walked back to Morgan, holding out the phone to her.

Morgan took the phone and flipped through the cards attached. She didn’t know much about hacking electronic passwords, that was more of a Winston thing. But she had a student ID from the university. Not another one of her students, thank god, but she was practically the same as them. Morgan pulled it out and passed it to Kaden. “Meet Coraline Adams. Would-be class of ‘23 at UMWC. Liked the Little Mermaid, maybe ironically--” she passed over one of her credit cards, which had a much faded sticker of princess Ariel in the corner, “And had a really nice phone. That’s it, that’s all that’s left of her.” She worried the slice of eyeball she was still chewing on as she spoke. This was so pitiful, practically nothing. At least with Emma there had been a funeral, there had been things to do, there was the sad copy of her stories consigned at the local book store. But Emma had been human. Coraline wasn’t. “Do you know who might’ve done this?” She asked quietly. “Someone who’s capable of treating some poor college kid like this? For being fae?”

Kaden crossed his arms as Morgan went through the fae’s things. This was a far cry from any normal post hunt sort of moment. Or any time he came across a dead body on a hunt. If it wasn’t human, it got left behind, at best it was there to help inform them who or what had been there. Had to say, he kind of preferred that right about now. But this wasn’t a hunt. At least, not like that. Kaden shook his head at her question. “I don’t know any wardens in town, no.” He really should. Given, well, everything. But something about having to be two faced to colleagues sounded hard. Or shitty. Something like that. “I mean, can’t say for sure that it was-- But if I had to guess.”

“Yeah, well, they do make it their business to do a double-take at anyone with an Irish accent and cut down whoever makes their killer instincts go off,” Morgan said bitterly. “No matter how young they are, no matter how wrong it is. They see someone spooky and suddenly they don’t get to be a person anymore. I kinda figured that much out too. We don’t even know if this girl has a family who’s missing her right now, but it’s just another day at the hunter office.” She held out her hand to have the cards back. Suddenly, she didn’t like the idea of Kaden getting to hang onto them. “We can’t just leave her body there. Well, I can’t, but I also can’t get too close without...you know. But she shouldn’t have to stay there.”

Kaden let out a huff and shook his head. “Well then. Good to know how you really feel.” Why was it every time they were around each other lately, he questioned why he considered her a friend at all. He couldn’t even begin to figure out what he was feeling about any of this, but he could feel the anger over her comments. And the exhaustion settling back in. The rest, well, he didn’t know what that was. He considered not taking the cards back. Fuck her, if he was just some mindless killer, why give them to him? Whatever, he took them, put them into his pocket. Which in hindsight, not a great idea. Regan may not be around just yet but he’d have to dispose of them before the medical examiner was back in full swing. Which, speaking of, the body. “We can’t. We can report it. Send her to the morgue. Not that Rickers or Regan will find the cause of death but it’s an option.” A shitty option. “Otherwise, we can burn it.” It was the safest option, really. One she probably didn’t like. “No matter what, we can’t do anything now. In broad daylight. Unless we’re involving the law.” Which didn’t sound like a great plan. But it was all he could figure.

“Is there something else I should be feeling about this too?” Morgan asked. She finally brought her eyes up to meet his. She’d never had the best control of her expressions at the best of times when she was alive, you would’ve thought dying might make it worse. But the face she showed Kaden was slack and impassive. Maybe it was the emotional exhaustion, maybe she was getting too used to this, but Morgan managed to stuff everything down. She wanted to dare him to tell her something different. To come up with one reason to justify any of this. “At least stash her for me, so she doesn’t wind up in a landfill. I’ll figure the rest out myself. You probably shouldn’t be too involved anyways with...everything you’ve got going on.” His job with the police department for one thing. His girlfriend for another.

“No, fine. Just jump to whatever conclusions you want. Can’t stop you. Every hunter’s a mindless killer with no fucking reason for any action they take. Of course.” Kaden was so sick of this kind of conversation. How it never ever seemed to sink in for any bleeding hearts seemingly ever. It wasn’t that he thought what happened there was okay. He didn’t. Torture wasn’t hunting. Neither was collecting trophies. Hell, he was pretty fucking wary of wardens himself as of late. But that didn’t give her the right to paint it all with a broad fucking stroke. Right to his fucking face, no less. That wasn’t the point now. “I’ll come back for her. Later. I’ll cover her up for right now. That’s the best I can do.”

“Can we put our bullshit aside for just five seconds, Kaden? This is not about Ashley, this is about a girl almost Blanche’s age whose remains are currently by a dumpster. I would take care of this myself if my stupid zombie body wouldn’t treat what’s left of her like a freaking happy meal, but them’s the breaks.” Morgan felt herself somehow getting more tired and more angry at once. She stopped, clenching and unclenching her hands and sighed. “Forget it. You have a tiny girlfriend who is definitely not in this area, otherwise she would be trying to perform an autopsy with a stick. You have a nice job you shouldn’t be risking, and you have no idea why I’m actually upset so just...give me her stuff and I’ll handle this. I’m sorry you got dragged in, but you can go now.”

“And I wasn’t fucking talking about Ashely either. But fine.” Kaden took the cards and phone back out of his pocket and tossed them at Morgan to catch. Fuck her. She didn’t know him at all or anything going on his head. Clearly. Apparently not breaking down right then and there or calling her out for her own words meant he had zero capacity for emotions. Whatever. It was always the same. “Right. Call me if you need something killed. Cause I’m sure that’s all you think I do. If you see Regan let me know.” He turned and walked out of the alley and back towards the city center. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him to stay focused on the actual reason he was there in the first place, but with a new threat of a warden wandering around, he’d have to fucking try.

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #morbeckmoreproblems #morgan #Fairy Contentious

12 notes · View notes

pumakaji64 · 4 years ago

Text

fuck im gonna watch the film theory on Ratatouille even though it’ll make me mad

part 1.

preface: It’ll probably look like im taking this way more seriously then I actually am ( I mean I love the movie so on some level yes I am ) but I tend to come across way more aggressive then I mean too in my writing oops. Like I don’t mind people having different takes on a piece of media, you can respect and authors intent while still having your own thoughts about a work even if they don’t line up because sometimes what a creator tries to convey and what they really do aren’t exactly the same. But if you’re gonna have such a wild take you better be able to back it up with some real good evidence. Overall tho I’m mostly just doing this cuz im bored lol ( also I haven’t seen the movie in awhile so my memory is a little foggy )

So going in I already know what the argument is gonna be “ good guy bad, bad guy good” whatever, so I’m just gonna comment on the argument and presentation itself as I watch the video

Ah I see we’re going with the good ol’ “ not technically lying but intentionally omitting and/or wording things in a manner that benefits my argument “ technique, I’ve used that before.

Nitpick: As someone on twitter brought up: Protagonist doesn’t mean “good guy” it’s the leading character that the story if focused on, so even if Remy is a bad guy he’s still the protagonist.

I get it’s probably a joke but Remy’s whole deal isn’t that he wants to be famous. He just genuinely loves cooking but can’t do with without fear of being murdered since he’s y’know a rat.

He doesn’t willingly leave his colony, he’s separated from them after he blew their cover by getting caught while cooking and for prioritizing taking the cookbook over escaping.

I’ll just say it now since i’m sure it’ll be brought up later, yeah Remy is kind of selfish, and thats actually a good thing. Him being a flawed character makes him more interesting and this also swiftly sets up his character arc early into the film.

“ If this sounds like an inspirational story about overcoming obstacles and achieving your destiny... you missed the point.” bruh the arc words of the film are literally “Anyone can cook”, it’s about overcoming prejudice to achieve your dreams in spite of everyone telling you not to because of the identity you are born with ( this is not just seen with Remy but also Colette, a female chef )

“Narcissist” As I said before yes Remy is selfish and at times this makes him unlikable but he genuinely cares about his family but he struggles to connect with them since they can’t understand why he’s so passionate about cooking.

Calling it now, the crux of this argument is going to be the scene where Remy gets mad about Linguini taking all the credit for Remy’s work during an interview. Which yeah I’ll agree that Remy was being unrealistic but Linguini had been ignoring Remy’s advice and had grown a bit of an ego which of course eventually leading to Remy having a heated gamer moment and doing abusing Linguini’s trust which the story punishes him for. It’s not a simple right or wrong situation but more of a two wrongs don’t make a right type.

“Jerk of a creature” Newsflash! Not all protagonists are nice, even the ones that aren’t villain protagonists!

First point: Remy is a thief and a hypocrite. I’ll admit I was agreeing that Remy is a hypocrite until he gets to the point of Remy letting his family steal from the kitchen. 1.) This was when him and Linguini were starting to have a falling out, he was angry at him and starting letting that affect his judgement. Was this wrong of him? Yes and he regrets his actions. 2.) Remy cares for his family even if they don’t always get along and his anger at Linguini makes it easier for them to pressure him into letting them steal.

“Remy never learns his lesson” maybe not explicitly but he does face punishment throughout the story. Stealing the book and food from the old lady costs his family their home and gets him separated from them. Allowing his family to steal from the kitchen leads to Linguini calling off their partnership. I don’t remember him stealing again after that.

Also is he implying that Remy is bad for stealing the will that proves that Linguini is the rightful heir to the Gustaeu that Skinner was trying to hide so he could keep profiting off of a dead mans work?

Remy is aware that what he’s doing is wrong, we are shown this through the figment of Gustaeu which represents his conscience reprimanding it but Remy continues to justify himself until it’s too late. He is a flawed character.

“In a realistic context.” Good thing this is a Disney kids film

Fraud!? You’re gonna grill Remy for fraud when Skinner is the one intentionally keeping Linguini from learning about his birth right?!?!?

“Poor Linguini. The sap that Remy controls like a puppet.” here we go again with the manipulative wording hooray

I see where he’s going with this one and it’s really funny to me that’s interpreting Gustaeu’s “Anyone can cook” line the same way Ego does for most of the film. Ego takes the opposite stance MatPat does by mocking the line because to the critic not everyone has what it takes to be a great chef. It’s by the end of the film he changes his perspective on the line to the idea that a great cook can come from anywhere even in the most unexpected of forms like Remy.

Gotta love the clip he added of pre-character development Remy being a jerk to Linguini before to two even met. It really ads to the manipulative wording he uses to make Remy look underhanded and shifty.

Is he really gonna gloss over Remy attempting and failing to teach Linguini how to cook? Remy is a fucking rat who can’t talk directly to Linguini attempting so teaching him would be really damn hard. Not only that but they are on a time crunch and don’t have the time necessary to teach Linguini how to cook like Remy can.

Also whose to say that by watching what Remy is making him do Linguini hasn’t picked up any cooking techniques by the end of the film.

It’s not like Remy freaking forced Linguini into being his man-puppet. Remy is a small animal who can’t talk to people so honestly Linguini has most of the power in their dynamic. Linguini can call of their partnership anytime he wants and even does so after Remy is caught letting his family steal.

“And whats it for? Just so Remy can cook! Just for his own benefit!” BRUH, DID HE NOT SEE THE PART WHERE SKINNER THREATENS LINGUINI’S JOB IF HE CAN’T RECREATE THE SOUP!??!? (Also skinner only wants to keep Linguini around if he can make money off of him )

God damn he really is taking advantage over the fact that most of his viewers either have never seen the film or only watched it when they were young to straight up ignore elements of the fucking plot lmao

“Who hasn’t forced un-consenting adults to kiss “ I can’t believe MatPat is trying to #cancel Remy for being #problematic, #remyisoverparty. The stretch is real my dudes.

LMAO HE LITERALLY MAKES A CANCELLE ON TWITTER JOKE BRUH FUCK OFF

Jesus I feel most of what I have to say will just be me restating what I already said. Ugh lemme just summarize it: Remy is a flawed and selfish rat who often prioritizes following his dreams over his responsibilities putting not just himself but his family at risk. But guess what? He faces consequences for that! His actions get him separated from his family and lost in a giant city, the only reason he doesn’t die is because he got lucky and found Linguini ( also because it’s a film and it ending at the start would be lame )

Also so is he arguing that Remy should just accept his lot in life and give up on his dreams because he can’t change the fact that he’s a rat ( which MatPat often reminds us by calling him unhygienic a lot so far ) as if that’s not the crux of his character dilemma.

I agree it’s wrong of him to put his family at risk but that only applies to the opening of the movie. How is he the only one in the wrong later in the film when both him and Linguini acknowledge to risk of their teamwork?

Here we go with the disease thing again. This is anti-rodent propaganda and I will not stand for it! >:(

Also bruh it’s a fucking kids movie.

??? how the fuck would Remy be aware of rats carrying diseases??? does he work for the fucking CDC????????

“Remy is bad because he kidnaps the pest inspector” Because it would get the restraunt shut down if word got out about the rats!!! And the only reason there are so many rats in the kitchen during this part is because the staff except for Colette all walked out!!!!!!!!! Which, guess what MatPat, wouldn’t just fuck over Remy but Linguini too!

“Oh sure they wash themselves but only after they walked into the kitchen!!!!” and I thought I was bad with nitpicking!

No need to bring up that The Jungle is a fictional story, nope! I guess it’s only fitting to use a fictional book as evidence for an argument covering the logistics of a fictional movie!!!!!!

Remy didn’t fucking “quit” his “job” as a rat poison sniffer, he still does it but he also cooks in secret. When he’s caught he’s separated from his colony ( which MatPat still hasn’t brought up ) so of fucking course he can’t keep sniffing for a clan when he is literally not there!!!!

Also if he’s talking about later in the film when Remy refuses to rejoin the colony when he reunites with Emile then we get the moral dilemma of Remy rejoining his family while fucking over Linguini who can’t cook because Remy is a small rodent and can’t adequately teach him do to a language barrier.

lmao this dramatic emotional music he’s playing bruh

He really is taking the kiss thing that seriously

“I’m not saying Remy shouldn’t follow his dreams” Thats literally what you are saying

“Chef Skinner does nothing wrong” Okay you law-loving bootlicker lol

I’m not ready for the second half of this so im gonna take a break and make a part 2 later

#Ratatouille #long post #vent #GT critcal #g/a//me th//e/o//y

6 notes · View notes

asgardianthot · 5 years ago

Text

A funeral chuckle (Sambucky AU) – Part 2

one / two / three

Summary: After the loss of a family member, Sam returns to his hometown, where an old crush awaits.

A/N: this is so much dialogue wtf somebody revoke my writer card

Words: 4276

Warnings: grief, angst, closeted gay characters

As soon as the waiter deposited their orders and walked away, Sam took a sip from his large mug. He first tasted the hot chocolate and looked at James, who monitored his every move, like he awaited for confirmation. Then, he took a big sip, nodded in approval and wiped his lip while Bucky smiled, pleased with himself. A big ‘told you so’ could be read across the latter’s features.

“You were right.” Sam nodded while pacing the mug down, “This was a good idea. Just what I needed.”

Bucky reached for the muffin Sam had ordered for himself and took a piece. It certainly was noticed by Wilson, who spent the following minute or so analyzing this man’s actions and gestures. He was comfortable enough to pick from Sam’s order without even asking –he was blunt in a way that seemed like he wasn’t thinking about what he was doing– and still, he shifted in his seat because of how anxious silence made him. Almost like he believed to be causing the silence by doing something wrong.

“Can I try to guess?” the brunette eventually set the tone for the topic of conversation.

He had just saved Sam from a potential nervous collapse at his father’s wake, after all. That, plus the fact that the last time they’d seen each other they were romantic teenagers sharing escapade kisses, did not leave room for a light nor casual chat about the weather.

“Guess what?” Sam raised his eyebrows as he approached the mug to his lips.

“Was it a weird relationship?” he broke the ice abruptly, “With your dad. Is that why you’re being weird about it?”

“Is it so obvious?” Sam smirked at the ‘weird’ part; he took a large bite of his muffin before sliding the plate closer to Bucky, so that he could have a piece, “It’s complicated, yeah. Wish I could just cry and say he had a great life, like my mom does…”

“But?”

Sam sighed, “But I never opened up to him. Not the way I should have.” He glanced stared down at his beverage and shook his head, “It just feels… I don’t know.”

Seeing how Sam’s face shut down of all light, as well as his body shrugged at the end of his almost sentence, Barnes decided to help him out.

“Does it feel like you weren’t ready to say goodbye?” he awaited until Sam nodded before continuing, “What do you wish you’d told him?”

Wilson inhaled a deep, loud breath and allowed a defeated smile to rearrange his expression.

“That’s rough.” He practically chuckled, “Well, I should have come out to him. I kept that from him all his life as a father. How- how selfish is that?”

Sour sadness filled Bucky’s gut, but he understood the man sitting in front of him, more than he could ever know. James’ father died before Bucky even knew what sexual orientation was. He had to come out to his mother all on his own, hoping she, the woman who constantly reminded him he was everything she had, wouldn’t drift apart. So, he reached for Sam’s hand and placed his on top, supportively.

“It’s not.” He said softly, but not condescendingly, “It ain’t easy. I think you… let him love you. That’s gotta be enough, right?”

Letting the comforting words sink in, Wilson gifted Bucky a small, yet warm smile.

“When did you become the expert in grieving?” he mocked.

Bucky laughed and retracted his hand from Sam’s, which left the latter a tingling sensation of withdrawal. He took a sip from the chocolate before replying.

“I’ve been to more funerals that I can count.” He explained with partial amusement, “Sometimes I think I’m bad luck or something, you know? People around me just… die.”

Sam frowned at the sound of such theory. Both of them engaged in a deep stare off in expectance of the other to comment on it, until Sam broke character and burst out laughing, which resulted in Bucky chuckling as well. When the laughing ceased, and the interaction drowned for a bit, Bucky returned to a former topic.

“You know, if you ever want- or feel like you have to…” he shrugged at his own words with uncertainty, “I came out… here. Last year, and they weren’t too bad about it. I mean, I was the town’s gossip, obviously, but I think they were excited to have an openly gay man among them.”

The image coerced a big laugh into Sam’s lips. They really are too suburban.

"That's great.” Sam replied genuinely, “But I don't think I'm gonna stay here. I can't stand the church people, especially after that shit show.

Bucky understood the discomfort. People who grew up and raised children in the same old bubble and only ever had a life in their small town could come across as tedious. Clichés, even. But the brunette had gotten used to them over the past year. He saw them more as a quaint image than a dreadful stereotype. Unfortunately, that was nowhere near the impression Samuel had gotten at church that day, and he made sure to express that.

"So many people cannot share the same grief, it's impossible.” He shook his head, reflecting on the masses of hypocritically religious women weeping over their favorite minister, “Funerals make no sense."

Bucky raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement, and still, he found something nice to say.

"Yeah, but, you know? I don't mind them. There's something... nice about them."

"Which part? The death of a loved one?" Wilson joked as he played with some crumbs that had fallen on the table.

The dark humor really got to Bucky, so he was unable to conceal a chuckle. He shook his head and held the mug tighter before engaging in a rambling speech about his picturesque view of funerals.

"I don't know, I was way too young when my dad died. I didn't really... understand anything that was going on, so I never thought of grief as such a dark thing, you know?” he tilted his head to the side, thinking hard on his thesis, “You just get dressed and meet a bunch of people and you're all super quiet."

Samuel felt like he wasn’t sharing the same point of view, but he got that part. It was actually just a formal gathering that everyone simply grew used to. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

"Yeah, it's a borderline funny picture."

Bucky nodded again, smiling.

"And you're right, nobody griefs the same way. But that's even more interesting. You got people feeling horrible pain, some folk are pretty empty inside, some are there to play-pretend, you know, faking it makes them feel important. And still, in the end, no matter how much your senior class tries to turn this into a shit-show, it’s pretty intense. In a very… unique way.”

Although Barnes was waiting for Sam to make fun of his words, but when he looked into his eyes he found the man to be very attentive. There was no mocking grin, no hint of disapproval, but an utter wish to comprehend.

“How?” he asked, eager to continue listening to a man that sounded, at the moment, more fascinating than he remembered.

Taken off guard, Bucky cleared his throat and sat straighter, then glanced at Sam a little embarrassed.

"Well, it's still a place of really intense feelings.” He explained while losing the awkwardness, “And I don't just mean the sadness, or the anger... I don’t know. Ever heard a funeral chuckle?"

That time, Sam had to frown, "A what?"

“You know! When… someone's hurting so bad that they're kinda surrounded by this dark cloud. They're crying, you can tell they have the heaviest heart in the entire service, and all of a sudden they burst out laughing."

Sam’s interest in whatever went down in Bucky’s mind was becoming bigger by the second, "Why do they?" he questioned truthfully.

"Doesn't matter.” Barnes brushed it off with a glint of joy in his eyes, fueled by the memories of the many times he had seen one of those, “Someone says something funny. Or, the priest starts singing.” He laughed out loud at the thought he himself had conveyed, “And it's just the most amazing laugh, it's such an intense feeling."

Wilson was captivated. Bucky had such a peculiar way of seeing the world. Of experiencing it. For a man who worked with grieving veterans, Sam had never heard such a beautiful way of describing funerals. Neither had he heard of a man who collected the so-called ‘funeral chuckles’. That was captivating by itself.

"Sounds lovely." Sam brought himself to reply after a moment of silent appreciation, only because the quiet seemed to make Bucky nervous.

"It is.” Bucky suddenly looked at Sam rather mischievously, “I, uh… I was hoping it would be yours in this one."

The sentence brought a warm blush to Sam’s face. Bucky had a way of making him feel like he was in on a secret, like they had a natural complicity, or some underground operation. Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense: they did have a complicity born out of secrecy. They used to run away at night to kiss inside of closets –the irony being painfully obvious there, and somehow none of them ever made a joke about it–, they used to leave notes on each other’s backpacks and pray that the appellee would find it, only for it to read ‘meet me at the parking lot, 10pm’. So, after all, yes, the pair were the only ones to know a very private secret. It was only natural to act like it.

Snapping back into the conversation, Sam lamented not being able to cry at his father’s funeral, and therefore, not being able to provide a tearful chuckle for Bucky’s collection. That ship had sailed the second they walked away from the local church.

"I'll settle for some funeral coco." Sam raised his mug with pride.

Bucky reciprocated with joy and satisfaction for having helped Sam when he needed to get away. They spent a long time sitting there with empty mugs, battling over the last crumbs of blueberry muffin, and catching up. Bucky told Sam about the many, many jobs he’d had in the past, and how he had come back home after quitting his last gig on moral basis. Sam opened up about his tours in Afghanistan and his work as a vet counselor. Eventually, the sun shone less bright outside, and the ticking clock inside Sam’s gut told him they should go find his mom.

Back at the Wilson’s house, a small group of people had continued followed to continue their grievance. It momentarily made Sam want to leap off the second-story window, but he managed to conceal his annoyance. Basically because his mom didn’t seem to mind; some of them were close friends and others church friends, and Darlene didn’t look for a second like she wanted some peace in her home. On the contrary, she began serving beverages to the guests, immediately.

Steve and his mother Sarah were there as well, the latter chatting with some neighbors while Steve stood by the staircase and made himself look rather secretive with Bucky. Both men could tell that Sam was overwhelmed. He had been, back at the church, and he definitely was now.

“Maybe we should leave.” Steve pondered.

“I don’t know.” Bucky replied with a sigh, then leaned against the staircase wall, “None of these people are gonna leave. He kinda needs us here.”

Steve examined his friend’s face for a good amount of seconds. He narrowed his eyes, and that’s when Bucky noticed the excess of contemplation.

“What?”

“Where’d you go during the service?” the blonde asked without ado.

Bucky knew this was the beginning of an interrogation, and he knew what his friend’s suspicions were.

“Took Wilson away from there, why?”

“Where?”

“Just a coffee place. Why?”

Steve’s lips curled up in an almost unnoticeable smirk, yet it didn’t go unnoticed by Barnes.

“What’s your deal?” the latter began growing hyper-defensive on his behalf.

“Can you get the nice dishes, Sammy?” Darlene asked his son as she opened up cabinets on her tidy kitchen, rummaging for supplies.

Samuel merely stood there, trying not to let out everything he opined in a rude way. However, it did make him upset that his mother was working when she should have been resting. She was the widow, she shouldn’t have to do anything at all. He, himself would have done the work for her, but the point wasn’t about who prepared food and drinks, instead it had to do with the fact Darlene wanted to do it. She allowed those people in her house. A simple ‘I’m tired’ would have been enough to get rid of them by her doorstep.

“Why don’t we just send them all home?” Sam offered.

“They’re here to accompany us in a time of grief. The least we can do is serve them.” The woman explained, still focusing on the cabinets, “Especially since you left your father’s service.”

There it was. He knew she wouldn’t let it go just like that. In fact, Sam was waiting for her to bring it up.

“Okay, so you’re mad at me.” He took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest, “Just tell me.”

“I’m not mad. I need you to get the nice dishes.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t give up on her maybe changing her mind.

“Mama, let’s just go to bed.”

Unfortunately, this time, he didn’t even get a response. Darlene opened the fridge and took out some vegetables, which she seemed more than happy to wash and cut. Meanwhile, Sam got the dishes she asked for and returned with them, peacefully. The widow already had a pile of chopped carrots when her son placed the items on the table. Therefore, understanding that she, just as Sam had experienced that morning, needed to keep herself busy, Samuel dropped the subject of work or not work. Instead, he went back to the church incident.

“I’m sorry I bailed at church.” He said with honesty, then sighed before launching his explanation, for he knew his mama wouldn’t enjoy it.,“But I came here for a funeral, not a circus.”

As expected, the woman turned around dramatically and raised her voice, “Nobody dragged you down here, Samuel. If you didn’t want to mourn your father, you shouldn’t have come at all. But you’re in my house, and we will honor Paul here. Is that clear?”

Sam kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to mourn his father. He didn’t want to come to that god-awful town and he definitely didn’t want to spend time with the grieving circus. But he had done it for her, because he wouldn’t ever leave his mother alone when she needed him. Regrettably, she needed a version of her Sammy that he couldn’t offer at the moment.

“The door’s right there if you’re planning on being disrespectful.” She insisted after a long moment of tense silence.

And so, Sam went for the door. As he headed out, he almost bumped into Bucky.

“Back off, Rogers, will ya?” he had brushed his friend’s allegations and walked away.

Sam was faster, though, and Barnes had to stop in his tracks and watch him walk away. He shot a confused glance in Steve’s directions, who raised his eyebrows with just as much uncertainty. Since none of them was moving to do anything, Bucky decided to follow after Sam. He found the man sitting on the grass, outside.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked as he approached him slowly.

Sam looked down at his expanded legs and replied, “Absolutely not.” He chuckled, sarcastically, “But thanks for asking.”

“You want me to leave you alone?”

“No, please.” Sam almost begged, and so, Bucky sat down right next to him, “I think you’re the only one here who actually gets me.”

Bucky snorted in a failed attempt to conceal laughter, which caused Sam to face him with a big, questioning frown.

“I’ve always got you, Sam.” Barnes explained with an amused smile, “I’m just trying to make myself useful. You look like you could use a friend.”

No matter how badly Wilson wanted to go over the topic of Bucky getting him, he felt himself needing another answer more urgently.

“Is that what you are?”

Bucky’s head lulled to the side while he thought it through, “Well, it’s shorter than ‘childhood crush turned secret kissing buddy turned stranger’.”

Sam burst out laughing, feeling himself, once again, easy and relaxed around Barnes. He tried to remember if that was the case when they were teenagers, and ended up concluding that it was probably the opposite.

“Why did we ever stop talking?” Sam sent the question out into the night sky.

“I think it was easier.” Barnes replied truthfully, “We were pretty confused, back then. And you moved away pretty quickly, so…”

As the sentence trailed off, Sam found himself looking at Bucky longer than he had intended to. It didn’t take another minute of comfortable silence for him to reach for Bucky’s cheek. Once he was cupping the man’s face, he leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. The familiar knot in his stomach was present, like they were confused kids again, only this time, they were much more confident of themselves and of the other’s attraction. He felt that pull, that invisible energy that Bucky radiated and made Sam drawn to him.

He felt the butterflies again.

As soon as they broke apart, though, Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“What?”

“You know, in the movies…” Barnes began, causing Sam to roll his eyes, “…when the character’s going through something… emotionally, so they’re like-“

“Like they need to feel something so they kiss whoever out of impulse?” Sam finished the sentence for him, raising an eyebrow with disbelief; when Bucky shrugged, Sam lowered his head in order to come across more serious regarding his intent, “Not what’s happening.”

“You sure?”

A dumb grin took over Sam’s features.

“You’re not a distraction. You’re actually the only person keeping me sane right now. And I just remembered… we used to do that before. Just be there for each other.”

They never said anything like it explicitly, and both of them always pretended they were just messing around, but more than once had they found each other sharing advice, or support, or the occasional bro hug. The second the memory hit Bucky’s brain, he held Sam’s cheekbones and launched himself for a kiss. This one was deeper, more decided, and definitely more longing.

Barnes broke apart to catch his breath and pressed his forehead against Sam’s, "God, I liked you so much when we were kids, you have no idea." He laughed.

"I think I did.” Sam said suddenly, earning a deep stare from the man who’d kissed him, “Cause I was mad about you. You were the most interesting person I'd ever met, and all these years later, you still are.” He reached for Bucky’s chin and grabbed it gently, “Buck, you're... amazing, you have such a huge heart. I hope you know that."

Bucky’s smile was smaller now. It was less honest, because he wanted to believe Sam. It was appreciative, but not necessarily in agreement. However, hearing Sam say it was definitely more convincing than anything else. If Sam Wilson believed in Bucky’s heart like that, then perhaps he was good. He gave Wilson a kind kiss that was charged with gratitude.

"Hot coco?" He offered.

After sharing one –smuggled– cup of hot coco outside, talking for hours, sharing the occasional kiss and eventually, holding hands under the night sky, the guests began abandoning the Wilson residence. And so, their wired instinct of inducing distance between them in front of other people kicked in. eventually, they walked back inside to an empty house.

Darlene was in the kitchen, doing dishes and putting things back in their place with Steve and his mom, a scene which Sam and Bucky joined. As a matter of fact, Bucky made himself extra useful that night, helping Darlene with absolutely everything before she even asked. It made Sam’s stomach churn in a good way to think that he was probably behaving like that to win over his mom.

“Can I come in?” Sam heard the feminine voice accompanied by a knock on his door.

He looked up to find his mother leaning over the doorframe, and he nodded. He sat on his childhood bed, waiting for a lecture but instead was met by Darlene taking a seat right next to him. She wanted to make peace. So, he placed his hand on top of hers, which earned him a kind smile.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna mourn, baby.” She said.

It suddenly sounded like she had talked to Bucky or something. Perhaps she had.

Instead of going on that topic, he took a big breath and decided that he had spent enough time keeping the main information from her. It was not only necessary to understand Sam’s feelings regarding Paul’s death, but also because if not now, he would never gather the courage to do so. It felt like he had nothing to lose now.

"Mama, there's a reason why you've never met any of my girlfriends." He began.

Darlene tilted her head and smiled, "Because there haven't been any."

"And there's a reason for that as well."

"Darling, I know."

Sam’s eyes shot wide open.

"You do?"

"Oh, Sammy, I've always known.” She said almost amused as she held her son’s hand tightly, “I didn't ask because I didn't want to push you. You've always been secretive."

Processing the harsh information, Samuel nodded to himself.

"I never wanted to. I just... I was never able to be honest, because I felt like I could never tell dad. So I kind of... hid."

A contemplative and partially sad grin took Darlene’s big motherly smile’s place. She tapped Sam’s hand with her palm.

"I don't know if your father even thought about it.” She admitted, “But, you have to know that he never would have judged you. He loved you, Sammy."

Sam wanted to believe that. He wanted to imagine a world where he had been open with his dad, and was met with acceptance and support. He wanted to believe his dad wouldn’t even have treated him differently. Unfortunately, the chance was long lost.

"I guess we'll never know.” He mumbled.

The widow received that as her cue to give him some space, so she stood up and dropped a kiss onto Sam’s forehead before walking away. Still, right before crossing the doorframe, she turned around.

"You know who I really like?” She changed her attitude suddenly, to a much more joyful one, “That Barnes boy."

Sam had to laugh, because it sounded like she was referring to the neighbor’s kid. Who, in retrospective, he technically was, but she said it like they were teenage boys and she was setting him up. If she knew, she could have been in on the joke and they could have laughed together. But Sam thought it’d be better to break it all down one step at a time.

“Don’t." He warned her, still mocking.

"Okay.” She raised her hands in her defense, “Good night."

With his light now turned off, Sam rolled around in his bed for what seemed like an eternity. He couldn’t sleep, no matter how tired he was. Too much had happened in the past few hours. Hell, it had been one of the most intense days of the decade. Flying to his hometown, his father’s funeral, reuniting with Barnes, kissing Barnes…

What exactly was it that happened with Barnes? What it meant for them conjointly, or what it meant for Sam’s future, were too unclear and uncertain. He would have to go back to DC eventually. Which reminded Sam that his mother would now visit him by herself. She was by herself. Perhaps he could do the effort and come and visit her.

But that meant meeting with Barnes every time he came back, and so his brain returned to the same point. What could they become? Not the only two gay men in town, that was for sure. He couldn’t live with that label. And he definitely couldn’t live under his father’s shadow with that label… or at all. He couldn’t live without his father.

The mess of complex thoughts clouded not only Sam’s ability to fall asleep, but his judgement as well. When he checked the clock, it was 3am already. It was 3am in that god-awful town, and he didn’t want to spend another minute there. So he turned on the light on his nightstand and turned on his laptop, typed in a few airlines sites and bought a ticket for the first plane he could hop on.

Bucky woke up late, by the sound of Wanda dropping a few pans in the kitchen, as usual. The flashes of the day before came plummeting, and he felt fuzzy by just thinking of Sam’s kiss. So he grabbed his phone and decided to text him, ask him to meet or just talk.

Yet, Sam had been faster. He’d sent a text at six in the morning.

I’m sorry for leaving without notice. My plane leaves in 5 so I can’t really turn back now.

Thank you for everything. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell Steve about us? Again, sorry.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fatws #tfatws #tftws #sam x bucky #sam wilson/bucky barnes #sambucky au #marvel fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

setaripendragon · 5 years ago

Text

Ursakoda Soulmates - Part 3

More of this nonsense! This time with actual kisses! =D

Hakoda is good with people. It’s one of the things that makes him such a well-respected chief. Everyone’s different, of course, but there are some types of body-language that are pretty similar all around, and Ursa’s reaction to his question about the father of her children put a whole new spin on the bumps and bruises he’d felt from her over the years. That reaction hadn’t said ‘fighter’, it had said ‘hunted’.

And it’s filling in more than a few bits of the story for him. Not the details, and he’d still like to hear those, at some point, if Ursa’d be willing to tell him, but… the broad strokes. And it’s making him more and more convinced that she’s here because she’s running, not because she’s spying. It’s a relief, even if the knowledge that there’s something she’s that scared of makes his heart hurt for her.

“Tell me your story?” Ursa asks, shattering Hakoda’s thoughts. He turns his head towards her, and finds her looking back with a curiosity that’s only a little bit guarded. “You already know so much about me, it’s only fair.” She adds, on the edge of teasing, but… not quite.

And that’s fair, Hakoda decides ruefully. “Okay.” He agrees, and then considers how to begin. At the beginning, he supposes. “I was born at the South Pole, in the Whale-shark Tribe, one of the Southern Water Tribes. My father was the Chief before me, and my mother was originally from the Northern Water Tribe.” He paused, and then laughed. “I have no idea how to describe my childhood. It seemed normal enough to me, but I’ve learned that our normal really isn’t all that normal for the rest of the world.”

“Tell me what you think is important.” Ursa instructs gently.

“That works.” Hakoda agrees. “My best friend growing up was Bato. We were the resident trouble-makers. Gave my mother no end of grey hairs chasing after us. We learned to hunt with our fathers, learned the ways of the sea and the turn of the stars. Learned to fight.” He sobers a little, and reaches out catch hold of Ursa’s hand, because what he wants to say next is going to be hard. “The raids had been going on since before I was born, so to me, they were… just a fact of life. Polar leopards will eat you if you’re not careful on the ice, sometimes blizzards snow us in for so long someone starves, and the Fire Nation comes and takes water-benders every now and then.”

Ursa squeezes his hand, but doesn’t say anything, and Hakoda is grateful. It makes it easier to get through the next bit. “When I was twenty-three, there was… what we thought was the last raid. My mother’s best friend was the only known water-bender left, and she was taken, and my father was killed trying to stop them. Mum was… Well, someone had to step up, so I did. Won my place as Chief, and kept the Tribe going. Married Kya.”

Beside him, Ursa stiffens slightly, before relaxing again. “Kya?” She asks quietly.

Hakoda stalls for a moment. Because Ursa is his soulmate, and so she deserves the truth, but she’s also Fire Nation, which brings the lie to his lips automatically. In the end, he settles on telling a half-truth that will, at least, answer the question Ursa is really asking. “She was killed in the actual last raid.” He says, aware that his tone has gone hard and angry, but unable to stop it. “For being the last water-bender in the South Pole.”

Ursa sucks in a sharp breath. There is a very, very long silence in answer to that, and Hakoda lets it sit, because, really, there’s not much to be said to something like that. “I understand you may not appreciate hearing it from me, but I’m sorry for your loss.” She says, finally, tone subdued.

Hakoda sighs, and lets the anger and grief flow away for the time being. “Thank you. On a more cheerful note, I also have two children.” He goes on, finishing up the very loose tale of his life. “Sokka is about a year younger than your eldest, and Katara’s half a year older than your youngest.” He grimaces a little. “They’re still in the South Pole. I haven’t seen them in… just about two years now.”

“I know how that must feel.” Ursa tells him, and Hakoda looks over at her, caught by the fragile note in her voice. Her eyes look hollow, haunted, and Hakoda doesn’t need to work hard to put the pieces together.

“They’re still with their father?” He asks carefully.

Not carefully enough. Ursa flinches, and her expression goes tight with pain. She keeps her composure, but she can’t keep a slight tremor from starting up in her shoulders. A line of sharp pain scores its way across Hakoda’s palm when she fists her hand and her nails dig in, and another across the inside of his lip as she bites at hers. “Ursa?” Hakoda prompts in concern, voice little more than a whisper, reaching over to catch her hand and gently uncurl her fingers. Then he lifts his hand, slowly, giving her time to move away if the touch would be unwelcome, to her cheek.

She stops gnawing on her lip when his thumb brushes the corner of her mouth, and she draws in a sharp, shaky little breath. “I left them.” She confesses in a rushed whisper, closing her eyes against the truth of it. “Agni forgive me, I left them with him.”

Hakoda remembers how she’d reacted to his sideways inquiry about her husband, and tries to imagine how he would feel if he knew that Sokka and Katara, instead of being as safe as they can be with the rest of the Tribe, had been left in the care of someone that could evoke that sort of reaction in him, that sort of cold, defensive rejection… The mingled fear and fury turns his stomach, and his heart goes out to Ursa. Following the impulse, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and tucks her in against his side, tipping his head to rest his cheek against her hair.

Ursa turns her face into his shoulder, and just breathes for a moment, soaking up what little comfort he can offer. Then she sits up, still looking a little ragged, but with resolve glittering hard and bright in her eyes. “I’m getting a little tired.” She announces mildly. “Walk me home?”

Amused, Hakoda stands and offers her a hand to help her up. “That will earn us a lot of speculation.” He warns her, because he can already feel the curious and incredulous stares of his men. He ignores them easily enough, because the Tribe are always up in each other’s business, it’s difficult not to be with the way they live, but he doesn’t want Ursa subjected to that without prior warning.

But she just looks resigned as she takes his hand and lets him pull her up. “Oh, I know.” She assures him, keeping hold of his hand as she leads the way out of the village square and into unlit streets. She doesn’t say anything else until the sounds of the revelry have faded, at which point she sighs. “I assume you have questions?”

Hakoda does, but he’s not sure he knows where to begin. He could ask about her husband, but as much as he’d love to know which Fire Nation bastard to take particular pleasure in cutting down, it’s not a subject he feels he has a right to. It’s Ursa’s pain, and she’ll share it if and when she wants to. The same is true of her children. He’d like to ask about them, to see if it might not be possible to arrange some sort of reunion, but surely Ursa has already thought of things like that, and he doesn’t want to dredge up any more of her pain.

There’s one question, though, that crystallises out of the mass of curiosity in him, and it feels more important than anything else he can come up with. “How come you’re here?” He asks.

Ursa’s steps stutter and slow, as though she hadn’t been expecting that question, but then her lips quirk into a side-ways little smirk that makes Hakoda’s heart trip in his chest, it looks so good on her. Part amused and part smug and part mischievous. “I was banished.” She says lightly, but Hakoda knows full well not to trust that tone, given that smile. “For murdering Fire Lord Azulon.”

Hakoda trips over his own feet, and he gives up on trying to walk and stare at Ursa in flabbergasted shock at the same time. Ursa comes to a stop as well and turns to face him, clearly enjoying his reaction. “What?” Hakoda asks, not because he didn’t hear her, but… what?

Ursa folds her hands together primly, and repeats herself. “I was banished for murdering Fire Lord Azulon.”

It’s almost unbelievable, but Hakoda can’t help but believe her. Wishful thinking, some might call it, but Hakoda would prefer to think of it as gut instinct. Ursa’s not lying. She really did kill a Fire Lord. She killed the Fire Lord that was, ultimately, responsible for all of the worst things in Hakoda’s life. He laughs, incredulous and delighted, and Ursa grins in answer. “You’re amazing.” Hakoda tells her, entirely sincere.

Ursa’s grin gentles, and then slips sideways into something rather rueful. “I wish I could say I did it because it was the right thing for the world, but… it was a lot more selfish than that.” She tells him.

Hakoda shakes his head, not to deny the truth of her words – he doesn’t know why she did it, but right now, he doesn’t care – but because he’s not going to stand there and let her deny that she did something incredible. His heart swells with a feeling that’s rather a lot like awe, and he decides he has a better way of conveying it to her than words. He steps forwards, catches her face in his hands, and leans in to kiss her.

Ursa’s eyes go wide when she registers his intent, but she doesn’t pull away or bring a hand up to push him back. Instead, she leans up into him, eyes fluttering shut as their mouths meet. Her lips are warm and soft, but the grip of her hands on his waist is firm and sure. “You’re amazing.” Hakoda repeats against her lips, and Ursa kisses him again to shut him up.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #ATLA #Ursa #Hakoda #Ursakoda #Soulmates AU #soulmate identifying marks #hakoda/ursa #hakoda x ursa

42 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 5 years ago

Text

Innocent Intentions

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Tao x Reader

Summary: There was one thing you couldn’t stand in all your years at college: playboys. And the campus was riddled with them. So when Tao - a player with a particularly well-known reputation - inserts himself into your life, you come up with a plan to get rid of him, whether he makes your heart race or not. But the more he’s the around, the more you just might find there’s a hidden layer underneath all the rumors, including a secret you never could have guessed….

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

Tao stared after you as you ran out of the courtyard. His wolf growled and barked at him to follow you, to beg you to reconsider, but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t force you to change your mind. Your loyalty to your friend – your selfish, childish best friend – was too strong. His despair started turning into anger. And that wild emotion was directed at a single person.

He didn’t know her schedule like he knew yours, but he did know what she smelled like, especially after their earlier confrontation, and with his focused so tuned in, finding that familiar scent was like figuring out simple addition problems.

Kendall was sitting at one of the long study tables in the library. She flipped through a textbook silently while the final member of the trio – Wyatt – whispered harshly beside her.

“Stop ignoring me, Kendall. You know I’m right.”

“I don’t care. What she did was wrong and you know it.”

“She handled it wrong. But getting feelings for the guy doesn’t fall under that same category.”

“I highly agree.” Tao sat down in the empty seat across from Kendall, his eyes conveying the chaotic fire roaring inside. Gone were the tears and the sorrow. Now he was just down right pissed.

Kendall’s eyes widened in surprise only for second before her face fell back into a stone cold indifference. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair. “What do you want, Tao?”

He scowled at her. “To know why the hell you feel so damn entitled to dictate other people’s relationships.”

“I don’t feel entitled to anything,” she spat back. “But best friends don’t go behind each other’s backs and date ex’s.”

That just made him roll his eyes with a scoff. “We’re hardly ex’s. We went on one mediocre date. I explained to you that I simply didn’t feel anything for you.”

“Also that you saw (y/n) and… how did you put it?” She clicked her tongue mockingly. “Something just clicked? Like the heavens split open and the choir began sing?”

No, it’s wasn’t quite that mystical, but the universe did align itself into perfect sync. The way it all happened was hard to describe to other wolves who knew to expect it. Explaining it to a measly human who would never understand was just wasted effort. “Sometimes you just know,” was his basic summary.

Kendall scoffed. “You just knew? You didn’t even know her. And (y/n) doesn’t exactly fit the description of girls you’ve been with in the past. She’s not your type at all.”

“Having a type and refusing to look beyond it will just end with you alone,” Tao countered. “So, yes, I found someone different and fell completely in love with her. And she was falling for me, too. Was seeing your friend happy really that bad?”

“With you? With the guy that I had stupidly fallen for myself despite knowing the asshole you were? Yes.”

Tao was disgusted. This ice princess that he’d once found cute and alluring was causing him to burn. “I may have been an asshole in the past, but I wasn’t like that with (y/n). You, though? You’re the real asshole, Kendall. Because you took your best friend’s happiness. You made her cry. You broke her heart. And for what? Revenge? So no one could ‘have me’?” Kendall opened her mouth to retaliate, but Tao wouldn’t have any of it. “No. Don’t even bother. I don’t care what your reasoning was. If you actually cared about your best friend, you would have let her be happy. Be mad that she didn’t tell you. Fine. But making her end it with me was crossing a line.” He stood up from the table, determined. “I’m not giving up on her.”

As he was walking away, Tao heard Wyatt whisper, “I told you. The look in (y/n)’s eyes when she talked about him outshined yours by miles. Now you’ve got him on the war path. All I can say is good luck.”

The scraping of a chair against the old wood floor told Tao that Wyatt, too, was walking out on his friend. Tao smirked. She did this to herself.

But the smugness melted away the second he was outside again. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t go banging on your door, begging you to let him in. First, he would give Kendall a chance to fix her mess. That could be the simple solution to all of this. He also wanted to give you space, let your overwhelmed emotions work themselves out before he tried to reason with you.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate in class, Tao decided to just head back home. He’d be scolded by Evie if she was around for skipping class, but he’d take it. Even though she wasn’t the oldest mate, she had a tendency to mother everyone like she was. Guess it came with the territory of having a baby.

Tao drove slower than normal, taking his time and stretching out the trip to the farmhouse, adding about fifteen minutes or so onto the average time it took to get home. When he walked in through the door, Evie was sitting on the couch, scribbling furiously on a notepad while Mei occupied herself on the floor with a miniature piano. Rather than getting lectured like he expected, Evie looked up at him with relief.

“Oh, thank god,” she cried out, exasperated. Jumping up to her feet, she scooped her purse up from the floor by her feet and hurried up to Tao. “Please tell me you’re staying around for a good while. I need to run to the store for supplies and the last time I took Mei, she had a complete breakdown and that is not stress I need right now and-”

“I’ll watch Mei.” The desperateness was practically beaming out of Evie’s eyes like Superman’s heat vision. As much as they all loved Mei, she was still a baby and she wasn’t giggles and cute smiles twenty-four-seven. But he was alright with being the babysitter for the day. Tao needed the distraction.

Evie planted a kiss on Tao’s cheek. “Thank you.” She headed for the door and left without further instructions.

With a heavy sigh, Tao laid down on the floor on his stomach. “What are you playing there, Mei-Mei?”

She ignored her uncle, too focused using her whole hand to press down on the keys and make some sort of random melody.. It was, however, a little pleasing to the ear considering it was composed by a nine-month-old. Looked like Mei might have some natural talent. Funny, considering neither of her parents could play the piano to save their lives. So where did this genius come from?

“Mei-Mei, can I play something for you?”

To his amazement, Mei looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. She had her dad’s eyes that just made Tao laugh. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he moved Mei into his lap. At first she let out small protesting whines, but when he placed the small keyboard in both of their laps, she calmed down and watched as his own fingers danced across the instrument. Occasionally, she’d try to replicate the notes that sang from the cheap speaker of the toy, but for most of the time she sat there and listened to the song that Tao had played for you that night at the playground. So much for a distraction.

Tao was left alone with Mei for several hours, playing the part of the good uncle. He fed her around noon and even did the dirty work of changing the soiled diapers. A lot of the other guys ran from the room as soon as that signaling smell was noticeable.

Only a handful of times did he slip up and think about what it would be like with you and him as parents of your own children. It was a melancholy feeling, one that he hoped would someday no longer have the sadness attached to it.

Evie finally came back to the house while Mei was down for her afternoon nap. She apologized profusely about the length of time that she was away, but Tao waved it off. Time with his niece was… well, not exactly what he needed, but it certainly did help.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Evie offered as the two of them put away the groceries in the kitchen.

Tao shrugged. “I don’t think there’s much to talk about. Everything was going great and then it went to shit.”

Evie closed the cabinet that contained the canned goods, folding her arms over her chest leaning against the counter. “Kris said you’d spent the weekend with your mate. Did something happen?”

Tao kept his focus on placing the boxes of macaroni and rice in their proper places. “Her best friend made her break up with me.”

“Wait. Why?”

Releasing a sigh, Tao looked over at her. “Because I went out on one stupid date with her and I guess she had feelings for me that ran a little deep and now she’s on some stupid rampage of ‘if she can’t have me than neither can (y/n)’. I can’t figure out if going on that date was the worst mistake of my life or if I still wouldn’t have met (y/n) yet if I hadn’t gone out that night.”

“That is… one complicated situation,” Evie said sympathetically. “One with, unfortunately, no quick solution. Friendships are sticky. But from what Kris has told me, she’s a fighter. I mean, she fought against her feelings for you for a good while. Trust me, once you give into those feelings for your wolf, they’re nearly impossible to ignore. She’ll come back to you. Just give her some time.”

Tao could only nod back in reply. He didn’t want to give it time. He knew he had to, but he wanted you back in his arms now.

Evie patted his shoulder before moving over to the oven. “Why don’t you help me get started on dinner? I’m thinking soup might be easiest.”

Rolling his eyes, Tao turned around and began taking down the necessary pots from the cabinets. Of course, on the day he decides to take the day off from school for his emotional wellbeing, he’s put to work.

You didn’t move from the couch the entire day. While the TV played whatever was just on, you lied there on your side, face pressed against the throw pillow. You were sure there’d be a pattern imprinted into your skin when you finally got up, but you didn’t care. What was the point?

God, you hated yourself. You could hardly believe that you’d broken Tao so much that tears rolled down his cheeks. Sure, you’d seen him cry just a few days before, but this time it was your fault. Part of you – a huge majority of you, actually – was hoping he’d show up at your door. What could you do when he was on your doorstep, begging for you to change your mind besides take him back?

But that doorbell never rang and you never heard a knock or footsteps echoing down from your roof. So you were alone in that big house, needing someone to talk to, to help you understand why you were thrown into this predicament and why you were forced to choose between your best friend and Tao.

Suddenly, the front door clicked like the turning of the lock and swung open.

“Mom?” You sat up off the couch, watching in disbelief as your parents struggled to get inside with their luggage.

“Hi, sweetie,” she smiled at you. Your father gave you a mumbled greeting before going upstairs. His face was a concerning shade of green, but that was an afterthought as you jumped up off the couch and ran to your mother.

“What are you doing back so early?”

Your mother sighed and looked up at the stairs before turning back to you. “Your father got sick so we came home early. He’s going to lie down for a little bit.” Her maternal instincts kicking in, she narrowed her eyes as she studied your face. Were your eyes still red and puffy after all these hours? “Honey, is something wrong?”

Once more becoming a blubbering mess, you threw yourself in her embrace, unable to answer her verbally. For a minute or two, she just held you, patting your head and letting you cry it out without bombarding you with questions that you couldn’t reply to. When your tears started to dry out again, she led you into the kitchen. After sitting you down at the island, she immediately got to work heating up a kettle of water and searching the cabinets for the best tea to make for this situation.

Only when she had a cup steaming in front of you did she finally sit down across from you, mom mode on high. “Now, tell me what happened.”

You took a deep breath and cleared your throat. “Do you remember the guy I told you about?”

“The playboy?” she clarified with a playfully crooked smile. You couldn’t believe you managed something resembling a short laugh at that.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Although, he’s not like that. Not at all. He’s sweet and compassionate and he listens to me-” You needed to be careful in this conversation. If you continued talking about how amazing Tao was, you’d make yourself cry all over again. “I just really fell for him.”

A knowing grin crept across your mother’s face. “I had a feeling you might. But what happened?”

You took a sip of your tea, still hot and burning against your tongue, but your throat welcomed the warm liquid. “Well, he kind of went out on a date with Kendall. Before we ever met!” Your mother had opened her mouth comment, so you rushed to save Tao’s reputation in her eyes. “They never went out again after that, so I figured it didn’t matter. But….”

“But Kendall still had feelings for him,” your mother finished for you.

You nodded again. “And I didn’t tell her about me and Tao because I wanted to know if it would even go anywhere first, but she saw us together over the weekend.” No need to explain exactly where she saw you. No matter how distraught you were in the moment, your parents wouldn’t appreciate you having someone over and spending the night without their knowledge. “She was upset – like really upset. I didn’t know how much she liked him before, she never told me. And so, she… kind of made me break up with him….”

A flash of anger ignited in your mother’s eyes. “She made you break up with him?”

“She didn’t out right say ‘break up with him’,” you clarified. Admittedly, you were a little worried at your mother’s reaction. She’d disliked one of your friends in the past and... well, it wasn’t pretty, to say the least. “But when I said that I would, she just nodded and walked away.”

“Why did you ever say that you would say that you would break up with him if you didn’t want to?”

“I don’t know,” you whined with a shrug. “Kendall was crying and freaking out and I just panicked. But,” sighing, you picked at the chipping paint on the old mug, “I was kind of hoping she’d say I didn’t have to.”

“Honey, look at me.”

You did, surprised at how your mother’s expression had softened.

She reached out to you, cupping your chin with her delicate fingers before dropping them back down on the counter. “I know you might think I hadn’t noticed, but I could tell something was going on with that boy after you told me about him. You were happier. Now, I will never say you need another person to make you happy, but there was a spring in your step and you smiled without even thinking about it. And if Kendall was really your friend, then she’d understand. She’d respect where both your and Tao’s feelings really lie. I know there’s the girl code, but it’s a two way street. If she really cared about you, then she’d let you be happy. So let yourself be happy, sweetheart. If she can’t understand that her jealousy shouldn’t come before your happiness, then she’s not a friend worth having. No matter how long that friendship has lasted until now.”

Her words hit you harder than you’d expected. You were wrestling with yourself once again. Kendall was the one who’d always stood by you, was always your best friend. But your mother was right. Including the times she didn’t know about, you’d constantly put Kendall before your own wishes. You always conceded to her, gave in to what she wanted. And you knew. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to just forget about Tao. You needed to know how far the two of you could go, if you could make it the rest of your lives. So Kendall would just have to live with your decision. If this was the end of your friendship, then it was the end. At least Tao took your feelings into consideration. And you couldn’t live with this gigantic “What If” hanging over your head forever.

Hopping off the bar stool, you rounded the island and threw your arms around your mother’s neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she chuckled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Yes. This was what she was here for. And the universe seemed to be on your side, bringing her home just when you needed her the most. Maybe this was a sign that you and Tao were meant to be after all.

Tao was in a daze when he woke up Tuesday morning. He could hardly believe what had happened the night before. He was simply helping Evie get started on dinner one second and then the next Lanie was running into the kitchen, saying that Junmyeon had captured the hunter. Both of them rushed to turn off the burners and followed Lanie out to the garage. Sure enough, a vaguely familiar-looking woman was tied to a chair, just waking up from unconsciousness.

To hone in his own anger towards the hunter, Tao stayed quiet and near the back of the crowd. When Baekhyun recognized the woman as Hae In’s cousin, Tao’s anger flared up even more. That just engorged the betrayal. Minseok wasn’t around – probably resting since he still wore out easily – and that might have been a good thing.

Luhan showed up soon after that and things just went from bad to worse. Tao was stunned in a statue-like shock when it was revealed that the hunter was Luhan’s mate… and he knew about her the whole time.

When they eventually got Kris to calm down and shift back into his human form, they all headed inside – minus the newly revealed couple – and, well, no one really knew what to feel. Anger, hurt, shock, and confusion were just a few of the emotions brewing in the air.

Some of the mates finished up dinner, but no one was really hungry, which was a first. They were all forced to eat while trying to wrestle with the fact that Luhan had essentially lied to all of them for weeks. Even though he refused to acknowledge it, Tao could understand, on a minute scale, at least. Wolves were quick to hatred when it came to hunters and for good reason. It wasn’t like the hunters gave the wolves a chance to show they were harmless on the first meeting. But the one in the garage? She seemed to really care for Luhan, enough to betray her family. And so Tao couldn’t hate her.

He could, however, be extremely pissed off at the mates who decided to drug the whole pack in order to let the hunter escape.

Still groggy and tired after waking up from the forced sleep that after Junmyeon told Luhan that the pack wouldn’t be going after his runaway mate, Tao dragged himself towards the stairs to go collapse on his bed and slip into dreamland once again. But a new conversation was starting up, catching his attention.

“What if she doesn’t succeed in deleting the files?” Kimberly asked. Jongin shushed her in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting, but she swatted his hand away.

“We’ll have to be ready for a fight,” Kris answered bluntly.

Lanie smirked cockily. “Sweet.”

“No,” Chanyeol bellowed out, making several of the other mates jump. “Whatever happens, you’re staying out of it.”

“Since when do you order me around?” Lanie crossed her arms defiantly. She stared Chanyeol down with her usual tough look. On an average day, it made the tall wolf back down and give in to her, but not this time.

“You’re not fighting against hunters where you could be killed.”

“We’re not useless, you know.” Of course Hae In would be right there with Lanie in wanted to get in on the battle.

Ji Yeon, ever the rational one, stepped in. “I think they’re right, guys. I hardly doubt we’re equipped to handle trained killers.”

“Not to mention, I have heard of instances where they’ve used the mates as bait for the wolves,” Yixing added in. “We won’t let that happen to any of you.”

Bait?

Tao swallowed, images of you tied up with a gun to your head or beaten or tied up flashed in his mind. No. He couldn’t let that happen to you. They couldn’t find out about you to use you against him.

Conflict arose in him. He wanted you back and he wanted you with him, but if Luhan’s mate failed and the hunters sent someone else to scope them out before attacking, they could find out about you, find out that you’re a mate. Maybe you breaking up with him today was the universe’s perfect timing. That could keep you safe. He needed to keep you safe. So, for now, until this crisis was over, he’d have to live without you.

Making it up the rest of the way to the second floor, Tao shut himself in his room.

Now it was six in the morning. He felt like death incarnate, but he couldn’t go back to sleep. Sehun was snoring away on the other side of the room, cuddling his body pillow close to his chest. Tao snorted at the sight before dragging his feet to the bathroom down the hall. Since the house was still asleep, Tao took his time in the shower, waking himself up with the cool water that bounced off his skin in little droplets. Back in the room, he closed the door to the walk-in closet before turning on the light and getting dressed for the day. It didn’t matter that his first class wasn’t for several more hours, he headed out anyway, unable to stay still.

With nothing else to do, he sat at one of the stone tables in the courtyard. He stared off at nothing, just letting all the confusing thoughts bounce around in his head. He still missed you.

To give himself a little piece of you again, he took out his phone and stared at the picture he’d snuck of you back at the knickknack shop where you’d found that silly hat. Maybe he should go back and buy it for you. It’d be a nice present once he was able to be with you again. He still liked the matching jacket idea, but the smile on your face when you put on the hat was like staring at the full moon for him and he wanted to see it again.

“Tao?”

His heart leapt in his throat. Was he hearing things now?

Looking around, he’d somehow missed all the students arriving on campus to begin the school day. Behind him, you stood in the grass, fidgeting with the straps of your bag. Tao slowly rose to his feet.

“Yes, (y/n)?”

You scratched your arms nervously. “Um… about what I said yesterday-”

“You were right.”

You weren’t expected that. Wide, confused eyes stared up him and he just wanted to pull you in close to his chest, kiss the top of your head and drag you away from here. He wanted you to say that you wanted to be with him and let it all go. But he forced him to stay planted, to stay firm in his decision. If he survived this latest trial, he’d make up it up to you for the rest of your lives.

“I-I don’t understand?”

“You were right to break up with me,” Tao clarified, the lie feeling like acid on his tongue. No. It was wrong. Oh, so utterly wrong.

You shook your head feverishly. “No, I wasn’t, Tao. I shouldn’t have let Kendall dictate my life. I’m sorry. Please, let me fix my mistake.”

God, this hurt more than when he got hurt fighting against the hybrid pack. Even if it was fake and temporary, it didn’t ease the pain at all. How many of his brothers could say that they were the ones rejecting their mate? He needed to get out of here. Fast. “It wasn’t a mistake. And you were right the first time. I’m not good. I’m not good for you. So… just move on.”

Still not believing him, you reached out and took ahold of his jacket sleeve. Pleading, you whispered, “Okay. You’ve had your payback now. So, please, Tao. Please, don’t do this. Let me fix this.”

For a few seconds, he just stared at the place where your fingers clung to him. His body was screaming him to reach out and slip his fingers through yours, but instead, he pushed on your hand, making you let go. You were going to hate him. Once he finally told you the truth, you were going to scream, punch, and kick at him. And he hoped that you would. Because he deserved it after saying one little word that would shatter your heart.

“No.”

He walked away in the same way you left him the day before. Except he had no ill thoughts towards you as you ran away with tears in your eyes. You, though, were probably wishing you’d never met him.

Why was he such a coward? There had to be a better option than this, right? He could find another way to protect you and besides, there was a chance the hunters wouldn’t really come here, wasn’t there?

Before he could make his feet turn around, however, his phone rang. It was Kris.

“Hello?”

“Tao? We’ve got an issue.”

The blonde wolf rolled his eyes. It seemed like their lives were just one issue after another. “What’s it this time?”

“Luhan’s gone. He went after his mate.”

Tao froze. No. No, no, no, no. Damn it!

“I’m headed back right now.”

Hanging on the alpha, he ran towards his car. Luhan was an idiot. But Tao was about to be an idiot right back. He was going to follow the damn fool, whether Junmyeon approved it or not. The only thing that would stop him would be if Kris imposed his authority over him. Even then, Tao might have to fight. Then, when he came back, he’d be begging on his knees for your forgiveness.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #tao x reader #huang zitao #z.tao #tao #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo series #exo supernatural au #Innocent Intentions #untamed wolf universe

376 notes · View notes

marshmallowgoop · 5 years ago

Photo

Doing yearly writing reviews isn’t really a thing. But once you start doing ‘em, it doesn’t feel right to stop, you know?

Seeing progress in other arts is of course a lot easier than seeing progress in writing, but I think there is some forward movement for me, especially when I also consider my compilations from 2017 and 2018.

In regards to 2019, I’ve selected various kinds of writing for this post: analytical essays, opinion pieces, news articles, creative fiction, and maybe some works that can’t be categorized so easily, too. It was a very difficult year on many fronts; I dealt with job struggles, financial insecurity, destroyed relationships, medical hardships, seemingly endless cyberstalking and online harassment.

But there were good things, too. New friendships. New passions. New outlooks. I feel like I’ve learned and grown a lot more in these past couple of months than I have in a long, long time.

The end of 2019 is more than just the end of one year. It’s also the end of a decade. But I think the best advice I’ve received all decade comes from this year:

✄ Sometimes, you have to say yes to saying no.

✄ If you can’t do something well, do something poorly!

✄ The best option may be to simply not engage.

✄ You don’t have to apologize for disappointing others.

✄ Your worth isn’t measured by how much you “accomplish.”

✄ You have rights: the right to have your needs and wants respected, the right to make mistakes, the right to determine your own priorities, the right to not be responsible for the actions or problems of others, the right to express yourself, the right to be human. It’s not selfish or narcissistic to stand up for your rights.

And, since it is the end of the decade and all, here’s also a comparison between one nerdy fandom essay from August 2010 and another from August 2019:

2010 (with added spaces because yes, this really was just a huge block of text originally):

Also, in my own opinion, nobody really gave a damn for Xion all that much save for Roxas. I mean, yeah, Axel cared a little, but in the end, he got totally mad at her, got mad any time she was mentioned, got mad whenever Roxas worried about her, got mad when she showed up at the clock tower. She was his friend, yeah, and he didn’t want her to go, but in the end, he would have chosen Roxas above her anytime.

The other “mean villains” didn’t really care. Luxord didn’t care, Demyx didn’t care, Xaldin got exasperated once at her, but overall didn’t care, Xigbar didn’t care, Xemnas outright said he didn’t care, Saix was rather cruel to her, but really, in the end, he didn’t give a damn for her. The others weren’t around long enough to have an impression on her. I think even Riku didn’t really care all that much for her, in all honesty. He just wanted his best friend back.

Also, you have to keep in mind that we played the game through Roxas’ perspective, and it’s in my personal belief that he fell in love with Xion. And if you’re in love with someone, when she gets into a coma, or goes missing, or ignores you, you’re gonna be upset, and talk about it. So Roxas did.

But you know, he doesn’t actually do a lot of it until the end of the game. Before that, it’s all about the THREE of them. He loves his friends (even if he doesn’t know it), and he wants them to be together forever, but when Xion goes missing or whatnot and they can’t ALL have ice cream together, he gets upset.

2019:

I’ve written more on the subject here, but to keep it short, Ryuko only tries to take Nui’s life when she’s convinced herself that she’s a monster, and her development is less about her becoming less okay with killing people and more about how she won’t let her anger and rage control her. What makes Ryuko’s attitude so different in the end isn’t that she’s reconsidered her thoughts on murder but that she’s composed. Come episode 22, Ryuko ain’t saying that she’s gonna kill anyone to sound tough or to intimidate. She keeps her cool even against her worst enemies.

But that’s just what I think! Maybe I’ve interpreted the character all wrong. But Ryuko’s freak-out after she goes berserk and hurts others in episode 12, her devotion to defending even people she’s just met… I just struggle to see her as someone who’s actually a-okay with killing. The fact that Ryuko’s perfect fantasy in episode 20 depicts her as a sweet girl without any of the violent tendencies that she has in reality also points this way; not to mention, Ryuko outright admits that her picking fights and causing trouble are bad things when remarking on her childhood in episode 8.

And Ryuko? She doesn’t want to be bad. All the poor girl’s ever wanted is love, and I can’t imagine she’d ever think that getting angry and killing people would get her a lot of that.

Progress may be slow, but it does happen.

At least, I think so.

Image Texts

January 2019

And personally? I find that sweetness just absolutely, utterly charming. When I understood what the rap was trying to communicate, I couldn’t imagine listening to the song without it. Heck, even before I understood, I found the “without rap” edits empty and barren. No matter how “silly” the lyrics might come off, the unabashed cheese is fantastic. The rap section that I was once “meh” about legitimately became my favorite part of the song.

Plus, I really can’t stress enough how sad the song is when it’s purely Ryuko. The official [nZk] remix replaces Senketsu’s rap with a reprise of Ryuko’s first verse, which recounts how she and Senketsu met. And it’s tragic! She says, “But I’m all alone,” and she is. Senketsu isn’t singing with her, no matter her claim that she can hear his voice. Considering what happens to Senketsu in the end, his absence in the song hits even harder.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/182361051017/oomoj-marshmallowgoop-the-rap-is-good

February 2019

The focus then shifts away from Ragyo, but Kill la Kill ain’t at all done with building the audience up yet. As the scene moves to the following day, viewers are met with quick, close-up shots of Uzu’s note to Ryuko, timed right to the beat of “Blumenkranz.” Uzu wants to duel, and we soon get to see his full request in an engaging low-angle shot where Ryuko looks up to this sign looming over her. The weight and gravity of the situation is effectively conveyed: the smooth transition from Ragyo to here, as well as the music and shot composition, let us know in no indirect terms that this fight isn’t something to be brushed off. Uzu’s duel is a big deal, and it’s very much connected to Ragyo’s expansive empire.

And the tension just keeps growing. Ryuko’s reaction to Uzu’s note is presented with a dramatic canted, high-angle shot. The camera—which is just slightly tilted—peers down at both Ryuko and the sign, communicating a sense of danger and unease. Viewers already know that the upcoming battle is important, but here, we also understand that it’s not going to be easy.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/182841724817/all-the-discussion-around-episode-6-of-kill-la

March 2019

Kill la Kill the Game: IF is currently being featured at the 2019 Game Developers Conference that runs until March 22nd in San Francisco, and a flurry of new gameplay videos are now available for viewing. Notably, these videos feature full English subtitles for the character dialogue for the first time since EVO 2018 last year and never-before-seen stages, such as what seems to be the Fiber Castle in the Kiryuin Manor.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/183766224117/kill-la-kill-the-game-if-gameplay-footage-from

April 2019

I mean, Kill la Kill ended over five years ago now. There’s been fairly minimal new content ever since—an OVA in September of 2014, a few pieces of merchandise here and there, a small crossover with Grand Summoners last year. And then, not even 11 months ago, out of seemingly nowhere, there was confirmation for a full-blown Kill la Kill video game. That we now know will be released in just 14 weeks!

Lots of jokes were made about the announcement for a game so many years after the series finale, but, like, seriously, as a longtime Kill la Kill fan, it’s hard to wrap my head around. Ever since the show ended, I’ve dedicated over half a million words to writing about it, spent tens of thousands of yen on books and Blu-rays and CDs, devoted nearly 60 GB to my own GIFs and edits. I’ve loved this thing to death. I’ve always found more and more that I want to write and create from this series, but I never really imagined nor expected that we’d ever get much more official content from the original creators themselves. And now we are getting so much more, and???

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/184228103137/kill-la-kill-the-game-if-releases-on-july-25th-in

May 2019

Kiznaiver: Oh, I was so excited to love this show! I was lucky enough to see an advanced screening of the first two episodes, and I was totally hooked. It was drop-dead gorgeous—and probably the prettiest series Trigger has ever put out—and I was very intrigued by the plot and characters. I remember just coming back to my hotel room at like 3:00 am after the premiere, utterly filled with excitement. I mean, Kiznaiver was directed by Hiroshi Kobayashi, the episode director behind the two episodes that got me hooked on Kill la Kill (episodes 5 and 18)!

But… my excitement quickly died. The story tried to develop way too many characters in way too little time, and I never enjoyed the romantic pairing of Katsuhira and Noriko, finding it shallow, undeveloped, and nonsensical (in a bad way), which… kind of ruins a lot of the series when that’s arguably the heart of the whole thing.

Kiznaiver is still super, super pretty, though. That last episode’s animation got me shook.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/184700944732/so-have-you-watched-the-other-stuff-studio-trigger

June 2019

I do recognize that many, many matters do not warrant conversation. I do recognize that the phrase “I’m just trying to have a conversation” can be—and has been—utilized as a means of directing criticism away from inflammatory, unacceptable, inhumane remarks. I in no way feel that hateful, discriminatory comments should be promoted.

Simultaneously, however, “conversation” should not automatically be a dirty word in the field of analyzing and seriously engaging with fiction, and thoughtful reactions should be supported and striven for. Nothing in fiction is ever black and white. There are so many nuances and complexities to the storybook realities of our media. I want commentators and critics of fiction to be passionate about listening, considering, and rethinking those nuances and complexities. Isn’t that why we do this work at all? To share our own point of view and open ourselves up to others?

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/185289615202/we-need-to-change-the-way-we-seriously-discuss

July 2019

Initially, I was really bummed by this lack of development. But as I thought about things more, I… didn’t mind so much. If this dream or universe or whatever is something that Satsuki “experiences” before the events of the anime, of course she won’t grow as a character here. Maybe this game is kind of the Kill la Kill prequel I’ve been begging for for over half a decade.

And as much as I didn’t get anything, I thought the ending bits between Ryuko and Satsuki were so good.

Like, I suppose Ryuko’s absorbing the Life Fibers or something?? But wow, pretty.

And the part where they talk before Satsuki disappears? That’s my kinda anime bullshit. It’s the kinda anime bullshit I wanted from the OVA between Ryuko and Senketsu.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/186648065467/goop-plays-kill-la-kill-the-game-if-satsuki

August 2019

That book, Log. 2, is a fan doujin from Kotaro Nakamori, who worked as an animator and animation director in Kill la Kill. There’s a bunch of assorted fanart in there, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Nakamori is a fan of Urusei Yatsura and wanted to make a little crossover between that series and Kill la Kill.

Personally, though, as someone not too familiar with Urusei Yatsura, I kinda just saw the image as oni-Satsuki (with oni being demon/ogre-like creatures in Japanese folklore). Oni are traditionally depicted wearing tiger skin loincloths, and Lum herself is definitely basically a space oni. So, I saw the cover and got super excited about oni-Satsuki because I love oni a lot, haha.

Fun fact: character designer Sushio has also drawn Kill la Kill characters as oni for setsubun, a celebration that’s held on the last day of winter (February 3rd). During setsubun, you might see folks dressed up like oni—who get beans thrown at them in an effort to bring in good luck and chase naughty demons away.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/187228888187/do-i-see-satsuki-wearing-lums-outfit-in-your-last

September 2019

Though I don’t see it much anymore, I remember lots of comparisons between Ragyo and the villains of Saturday morning cartoons back in the day. She was described as a generic, two-dimensional “evilz for the sake of evilz” baddie and criticized for her simplicity.

And though I did admittedly agree to an extent—I craved a lot more depth and insight, particularly in regards to her haunting line about “still having something of a human heart” whilst brutally attacking her own daughter in the final episode—I also found Ragyo to be a remarkably compelling, powerful, and horrifying villain even without tons of backstory and explanation. Perhaps my write-up on her first scene in episode 6 best details why; this woman has such a presence, and the visual language of the series amplifies that presence spectacularly. Ragyo’s intimidating and scary without the audience even needing to know anything about her.

And… I’d say that’s a good villain. That’s exactly what a villain should do.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/187987858537/on-ragyo-kiryuin

October 2019

And, though there are no visuals, so I can’t be sure if it’s an “Ocean of Light” or not, the fourth Drama CD also has the same kinda deal happening. In the CD—which takes place immediately after Ryuko learns the truth of her origins—Ryuko’s pain manifests as an explosion of light that knocks both her and Senketsu unconscious and pushes Senketsu away from her. The sound effect here is familiar, and I’m personally convinced that this is another “Ocean of Light” moment.

Which brings me to the “light” part of the terminology. Light is often associated with good, yes, but light is also associated with heat, and heat is associated with pain. In the Drama CD, Ryuko’s light is so hot that Nui even remarks that Senketsu “almost burned” from it, and when Mako embraces Ryuko after swimming through her “Ocean of Light” in episode 12, Ryuko’s touch scorches Mako’s skin.

I’ve already written an essay on the symbolic and narrative use of fire, warmth, and heat in Kill la Kill (that you should totally read because it’s actually maybe Kinda Good, Maybe), and relating to that, I see the “Ocean of Light” as a physical representation of Ryuko’s fiery spirit. That fire can be used for good, and that fire can also be painful, but no matter what, that fire is a part of Ryuko.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/188247077227/i-always-wanted-some-explanation-you-are-smart

November 2019

She looks around her cottage. Her eyes find the walls and the furnishings. Her eyes find the scratched floors and stained wood. She does not voice it to the once-emperor, but she had never been able to remove the stains from the attack. Her son's blood has painted the brown wood red. It is a reminder of what she cannot remember. It is a reminder of the past she has forgotten.

“This home feels so desperately lonely,” she admits. “I do not know who is missing. But it is not complete.”

The man is quiet. He did not expect to find himself feeling sympathy for the woman's plight. Perhaps she is a fool, to have given her heart to a demon. But kindness ought not be punished, he thinks. Or has he grown so cold that he believes it should be?

December 2019

🏀 Michiru and Shirou’s relationship may be the focus, but Nakashima emphasizes that Michiru’s relationship with Nazuna is also involved in the story in a big way.

🏀 Nakashima stresses the importance of depicting teen girls realistically. Two women screenwriters are on board: Kimiko Ueno and Nanami Higuchi. Both wrote for Little Witch Academia. Ueno also wrote for Space Patrol Luluco, and Higuchi was behind the production reports in Trigger Magazine (and, interestingly, wrote the script for the anime adaptation of BEASTARS).

🏀In regards to Michiru and Nazuna’s relationship, producer Naoko Tsutsumi (also an animation producer for Kiznaiver and Little Witch Academia) provides input as well. Nakashima says that they greatly value and take to heart the opinions of the women creators.

Full post: https://marshmallowgoop.tumblr.com/post/189928986922/otomedia-winter-2020-bna-brand-new-animal

#shut up goop #goop makes a (kinda) personal post #ramblings #writing #on to 2020!#right before the new year in my time zone as per usual lol #image texts under the cut #kill la kill #kingdom hearts #brand new animal #kiznaiver

14 notes · View notes