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cookie-run-kingdom-story · 2 years ago

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A Snow-Covered Path (Towards the Light)

Chapter 1: A Wind-riding Cookie

*Whoooooooosh* Sherbert Cookie: He he, this trip was so much fun! The winds never cease to surprise me! Where will they take me next? Sherbert Cookie: Ah, we’re almost there…! Sherbert Cookie: I see the lights of Snowfall Village! Sherbert Cookie: Should I stop by and see hello to Cotton Cookie? I have thousands of stories to share… Sherbert Cookie: …But, I should probably head to the Frost Castle first. Sherbert Cookie: Frost Queen Cookie has never called for me this urgently… It must be something very important. Sherbert Cookie: I’ll be right there, Cotton Cookie!

Chapter 2: Castle of Ice

Sherbert Cookie: …? Was the Frost Castle always this cold? Sherbert Cookie: How strange… It always felt warm for a frozen castle. Frost Queen Cookie: Child! You have been traveling the world, bringing snow with you wherever you go… Thank you for answering my call on such short notice. Sherbert Cookie: Frost Queen Cookie, the Frost Castle, it’s… Frost Queen Cookie: …You have noticed. It must be obvious for one who wields the power to control snow. Sherbert Cookie: Yes, the frozen force that holds the castle together feels… faint. And all the frost spirits, they look… dimmer than usual. Sherbert Cookie: …What’s going on…? Frost Queen Cookie: My powers… as well as this castle’s come from the energy of Life… Frost Queen Cookie: There is something foul out there… Something twisted, disrupting the entire course of nature. Its powers are now disturbing the balance of my domain. Sherbert Cookie: Disrupting… the entire course of nature? Frost Queen Cookie: Yes, I am sure you are well aware of the ones chosen to return to nature’s embrace and bloom into something new. Frost Queen Cookie: The balance of this sweet world is maintained by this cycle… As new life enters the world, another will return to the Source. Such is the way of the Life Energy.

Frost Queen Cookie: Yet, this flow has been… tarnished. Frost Queen Cookie: Instead of circulating freely, as it should be, it is accumulating in a single focus point. Sherbert Cookie: But that’s impossible…! Are you saying that someone is collecting Life Energy? Frost Queen Cookie: I am unsure. Frost Queen Cookie: Which is why it is imperative to find out where the Life Energy is gathering and how exactly this… disturbance is affecting the world. Frost Queen Cookie: Can you help me? Sherbert Cookie: The other elemental Cookies might know something. Just like how you noticed something was off. Sherbert Cookie: I’ll pay them a visit* right away.

*difference between audio and text; corrected typo

Frost Queen Cookie: Excellent. They must have sensed this shift as well. Sherbert Cookie: Where should I start… Frost Queen Cookie: Visit the guardian of dreams, the one who watches the two worlds from her moon. Her knowledge is unparalleled. Sherbert Cookie: Right, Moonlight Cookie of the CIty of Wizards. Frost Queen Cookie: Make haste. You are the only one I can ask for help at this bleak moment. Sherbert Cookie: Of course! Frost Queen Cookie, you can trust me! I’ll ride the highest and fastest wind and will be back right away!

Chapter 3: City of Wizards

Sherbert Cookie: Huff… huff… What’s going on? Sherbert Cookie: This must be it… Although, I can’t get closer to the City of Wizards no matter how hard I try. Sherbert Cookie: At the very moment the City seems within my reach, it slips away, as if I haven’t made a single step…! This… must be the fabled Dream Barrier! Sherbert Cookie: Did something happen to the City of Wizards…? Sherbert Cookie: Why else would Moonlight Cookie lock the entire city away in a dream? Sherbert Cookie: Moonlight Cookie! Moonlight Cookie?! Can you hear me?! Moonlight Cookie! Sherbert Cookie: …There’s no way she can hear me from here… Sherbert Cookie: But… I don’t have time… Sherbert Cookie: …I’ll visit the Dragon’s Valley since it’s the nearest from here. Sherbert Cookie: Fire Spirit Cookie might know something!

Chapter 4: Dragon’s Valley

Boiling Lava: *Sizzle sizzle… BOOM* Sherbert Cookie: So… hot… Gonna melt… if I get closer… Where on Earthbread is Fire Spirit Cookie…?

Fire Spirit Cookie: Who goes there?! Who dares to enter the land of dragons and flames?! Sherbert Cookie: Fire Spirit Cookie…! Fire Spirit Cookie: Oh, a tiny sugar plum. What are you doing here? Trying to become Water Drop Cookie or something? Sherbert Cookie: I’m here on Frost Queen Cookie’s request. Something is happening with the Life Energy and the world. Sherbert Cookie: Fire Spirit Cookie, since you oversee the Flow of Life, I thought you’d have felt something too… Fire Spirit Cookie: The “Flow of Life,” huh! Haven’t heard about that one in a while. I’m surprised anyone still cares about that stuff. Fire Spirit Cookie: Because I sure don’t! Ha ha ha. Sherbert Cookie: The Frost Castle is gradually crumbling apart. Have you seen anything similar to that here in the Dragon’s Valley? Fire Spirit Cookie: …!

Fire Spirit Cookie: …Wa ha ha ha! Now I feel bad for Frost Queen Cookie! Fire Spirit Cookie: Has she grown so weak that she needs to send a kid in her stead? Fire Spirit Cookie: I’ll have you know, my flames are perfectly fine, thank you very much! Sherbert Cookie: So you don’t feel anything different? Fire Spirit Cookie: Listen up, sugar plum. The weak always make a fuss about EVERY ITSY-BITSY CHANGE in the world. Fire Spirit Cookie: Cookies who wield Eternal Flames- like myself- couldn’t care less! Ha ha! Fire Spirit Cookie: Tsk tsk… Didn’t you become a spirit because you wanted to be free? Fire Spirit Cookie: If Frost Queen Cookie is in trouble, then let her deal with it! Fire Spirit Cookie: Now, scram! I’m a busy Cookie! Sherbert Cookie: Wait, Fire Spirit Cookie! Sherbert Cookie: He’s gone… And I couldn’t learn anything new… Sherbert Cookie: I want to follow him but if I stay here any longer, I’m definitely gonna melt away… Sherbert Cookie: Let’s go somewhere cooler…

Chapter 5: Moonlit Night Sea

Sherbert Cookie: It’s so silent here… And the moon is so bright. Sea Fairy Cookie: … Sherbert Cookie: Sea Fairy Cookie? Where are you? Sea Fairy Cookie: … Sherbert Cookie: Hello? Sea Fairy Cookie? Sea Fairy Cookie: …You …The spirit Cookie who travels with snow? Sherbert Cookie: Yes, that’s me! I’m Sherbet Cookie! I hope I’m not bothering you! Sea Fairy Cookie: No, not at all. I was just waiting for nightfall… It is my favorite time of the day. What brings you here? Sherbert Cookie: Frost Queen Cookie asked me to visit you. Have you felt anything off regarding the flow of Life Energy recently? Sea Fairy Cookie: I do not know… I have abandoned my duties as a guardian long ago… Sea Fairy Cookie: Besides, the sea is vast and deep. There are areas that I cannot see. Sea Fairy Cookie: But now that you mention it… Sherbert Cookie: …?!

Sea Fairy Cookie: I have noticed currents of Life Energy shifted towards a place across the sea. Sherbert Cookie: Across the sea? Do you know the direction? Sea Fairy Cookie: Somewhere northeast of Earthbread… Sea Fairy Cookie: What I do know… is that it is beyond my reach. Sherbert Cookie: But this means the Frost Queen Cookie was right! Life Energy is gathering somewhere! Sherbert Cookie: If only I knew where it was! I could hop on the winds and get there right away! Sea Fairy Cookie: I am sorry I was not of much help. Perhaps the Divine Tree can give an answer. Sherbert Cookie: The Divine Tree? Sea Fairy Cookie: The tree has taken the form of a Cookie now. You will find him in the Maze Grove. Sherbert Cookie: An Elemental Cookie in the Maze Grove…? Are you talking about Millennial Tree Cookie?! Sherbert Cookie: But he’s really hard to meet! Not to mention that I always get lost whenever I visit the forest… Sea Fairy Cookie: He is the one who oversees all life on Earthbread. If someone can help you, it is him. Sherbert Cookie: Right… I hope I don’t get lost this time… Sea Fairy Cookie: May the wind take you where you need to be…

Chapter 6: Maze Grove

Sherbert Cookie: Wah… I knew it.

Sherbert Cookie: …I’m going in circles! Again! I don’t think I’ve ever been this lost… Sherbert Cookie: I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m still far from my goal. Sherbert Cookie: …?! Wait, what’s this smell?! Is something on fire?! Kind Jelly Fairy: FIRE!!! HEEEEEEEELP! Sherbert Cookie: …?! Fire in the sacred Maze Grove?! Dried Up Doughnut Ball Fairy: AAAAAAAH! Help! Someone! ANYONE! Sherbert Cookie: I can help! If I can send my snow through the wind…! Snowy Wind: *WHOOOOOSH* Muffin Fairy: Phew… We were this close to becoming burnt ash… Cool Jelly Fairy: Thank you so much! Sherbert Cookie: I’m glad I could be of help! Thank goodness the fire didn’t spread too much… Sherbert Cookie: Err… I may or may not have sent a bit too much snow… Every tree is covered in frost… *rustle* Sherbert Cookie: …?! ???: Halt. How dare you tarnish this forest with Darkness… Sherbert Cookie: W-who are you? No, wait, let me explain…

Sherbert Cookie: Wait, wait, wait! Wind Archer Cookie: I knew the trees were acting strange. Are you the culprit behind this? Wind Archer Cookie: Do not think that I’ll let you go easily. My arrow will deliver your judgment. Sherbert Cookie: No, it’s not like that! Sherbert Cookie: I’m Sherbert Cookie. I came here to meet Millennial tree Cookie, and suddenly found the forest on fire! Sherbert Cookie: I used my power to put out the fires, that’s all! I didn’t mean to freeze the forest! I’m really sorry about that… Wind Archer Cookie: The trees of the Maze Grove… on fire? Wind Archer Cookie: The shade of green may have lost its brilliance recently, but still… for the trees of Life to catch fire… Kind Jelly Fairy: The frost spirit speaks the truth, protector! The fire started from the dry twigs and leaves! Muffin Fairy: If it weren’t for Sherbert Cookie, we would’ve turned to ashes! Wind Archer Cookie: …Unbelievable… Sherbert Cookie: …… Wind Archer Cookie: I… am sorry for the misunderstanding. And… Wind Archer Cookie: You have my gratitude for saving the forest. Wind Archer Cookie: Did you say that you are here to meet Millennial Tree Cookie? Sherbert Cookie: Yes. An unusual flow of Life Energy was spotted across the continent. I was wondering if Millennial Tree Cookie knew anything about this. Wind Archer Cookie: Unusual flow of Life… Perhaps that is why the forest caught on fire. Wind Archer Cookie: Follow me. I shall lead you to Millennial tree Cookie. Wind Archer Cookie: I am… Wind Archer Cookie: …Wind Archer Cookie.

Chapter 7: Divine Tree

Sherbert Cookie: Wow…! I’ve never been this deep into the Maze Grove!

Sherbert Cookie: Is this giant tree the Divine Tree that Sea Fairy Cookie was talking about? Wind Archer Cookie: …Keep walking around the tree and you will meet Millennial Tree Cookie. Sherbert Cookie: Oh, thank you! Sherbert Cookie: Oh… He’s gone! Sherbert Cookie: Did I do something wrong? Wind Archer Cookie didn’t look too pleased with me… Sherbert Cookie: Oh, now is not the time for this! ???: The child of the dessert forest means well. Sherbert Cookie: …!

Millennial Tree Cookie: He is quite protective of the light and the lives it touches… Sherbert Cookie: Millennial… Tree… Cookie? Millennial Tree Cookie: I have been waiting for you. Sherbert Cookie: …Me? But how…? Millennial Tree Cookie: My roots spread far and wide. Millennial Tree Cookie: They told me of a certain Cookie with truthful eyes and powers of ice, seeking me. Sherbert Cookie: Oh…! Yes, Frost Queen Cookie sent me… Millennial Tree Cookie: Indeed. That is known to me as well. Millennial Tree Cookie: Someone is interrupting the cycle of life. Those poor souls that only wish to return to nature… Millennial Tree Cookie: And if it is affecting my forest… then it is no small threat. Sherbert Cookie: You can feel it too?! Sherbert Cookie: Sea Fairy Cookie said that this unusal* flow of Life Energy is heading northeast of Earthbread.

*actual text

Millennial Tree Cookie: That is true. Millennial Tree Cookie: It is heading towards the land of Beast-Yeast… The realm of Darkness. Sherbert Cookie: …!! Beast-Yeast?! Millennial Tree Cookie: There are those who have been spreading shadow and malice. They have chosen Beast-Yeast to gather their forces… Millennial Tree Cookie: They are gathering Life that rejected its fate to create a creature forbidden, defying the laws of nature. Millennial Tree Cookie: And if this accursed design were to succeed… The balance and order of what we know will perish. Sherbert Cookie: No…! We can’t let that happen! Millennial Tree Cookie: The wind… seems to be changing its course. Sherbert Cookie: I need to get back to Frost Queen Cookie first! I need to tell her all of this right away! Sherbert Cookie: Thank you so much for your help, Millennial Tree Cookie! I wish I could stay longer, but it's a pretty long way back, so I’m gonna leave… right now! Goodbye! Roaring Winds: *WHOOSH* Millennial Tree Cookie: …

Millennial Tree Cookie: …I see that you were listening, Wind Archer Cookie. Wind Archer Cookie: How could there be someone who dares to interfere with the cycle of Life? Millennial Tree Cookie: Are you going? To Beast-Yeast? Wind Archer Cookie: My mission is to trace and vanquish the Darkness. I shall catch the northeast wind and leave right away. Millennial Tree Cookie: Be careful. Do not get hurt.

Chapter 8: The Guiding Lantern

Sherbert Cookie: Wow, I really am far out, aren’t I… Sherbert Cookie: I really need to get back to Frost Queen Cookie and tell her everything I found out. Wind, help me! Sherbert Cookie: Stealing Life Energy to create a forbidden being… Sherbert Cookie: Why would anyone do that? And who would do that? Sherbert Cookie: And if this really destroys the cycle of Life… Sherbert Cookie: What happens to the Cookie World? Sherbert Cookie: …I’m gonna go see the warm lantern lights before I head to the Frost Castle. Sherbert Cookie: I need to see Cotton Cookie.

#sherbert cookie #frost queen cookie #Millennial Tree Cookie #fire spirit cookie #moonlight cookie #sea fairy cookie #wind archer cookie #cookie run kingdom #cr dialogue

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a-flickering-soul · 4 years ago

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EverymanHYBRID And Deer In Media: In Five Parts (click for individual comparisons)

Deer are both a symbol of fragile purity and the untamable wild–here, we examine deer in the context of man, where deer come to represent the urge within us to abandon the conscious ego for the subconscious id. The deer is a symbol, too, of rebirth, of transformation, of shedding and regrowing its weapons each year. To kill, to be reborn, to choose to be monstrous through our proximity to humanity. Is there not something pure in surrendering to animal instinct? If deer are the twin themes of innocence and wildness, then we in turn are the juxtaposition of humanity and monstrousness–our actions made monstrous by the attempt to temper them with humanity.

(transcript, analysis, and sources below cut)

1: The Secret History & EverymanHYBRID--Bodies

The Secret History, on the killing of a man in a hallucinatory bacchanal:

"'Henry,' I said at last. 'Good God.' "He raised an eyebrow. 'Really, it was more upsetting than you can realize,' he said. 'Once I hit a deer with my car. It was a beautiful creature and to see it struggling, blood everywhere, legs broken ... And this was even more distressing but at least I thought it was over. I never dreamed we'd hear anything else about it.'"

EverymanHYBRID, "Ryan and the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT":

A shot of a deer's dead body at the side of the road at night, looking crumpled and not quite right. The captions read: "Jeff: It's a fucking deer, dude. (Evan: See it?) Yeah. Something cut its belly open. (Evan: It cut its belly open the wrong way.)"

Parallels drawn:

Consider this one an amuse-bouche. Henry draws comparisons between a man he killed to a deer he accidentally hit with a car, mildly naming the incident ‘distressing’. There is a lack of human empathy, of guilt over killing a fellow man. In comparison, Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie at this point in the EMH plotline have not yet become hunter or hunted–they have not yet been warped by their roles in this iteration and can acknowledge the upsetting nature of the events that befall them. Henry has tasted that amoral nature and is less human for it, more visibly willing to shed that veneer of attempting to care about other people. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie have not yet reached that point.

2: “Whoso List to Hunt”, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--The Chase

"Whoso List to Hunt", on hunting a fabled white hind:

"I am of them that farthest cometh behind./ Yet may I by no means my wearied mind/ Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore/ Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,/ Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind./ Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,/ As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain/ There is written, her fair neck round about:/ Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,/ and wild to hold, though I seem tame."

EverymanHYBRID, "Slushpops and Surprises”

A shot of white text on a black page, "[Enter the tragic hero and his unattainable companion.]"

The Secret History, on hallucinations experienced during the bacchanal (bold for emphasis):

“‘Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed. Actually it was miles. I know that for a fact. Apparently we ran and ran and ran, because when we came to ourselves we had no idea where we were.’”

EverymanHYBRID, “December & early January”:

A shot of Vinnie, hand covering his face in shock, as he sits and listens to Jessa’s last voicemail before she went missing. Jeff can be seen in the background, listening in silence. The captions read “[Jessa’s voice, recorded]: Steph, that thing you were talking about, I saw it...he’s real, he’s right here. What the hell does he want? I think he’s following me.”

Parallels drawn:

The deer symbolizes wild nature, something that man cannot obtain, touch, or capture without abandoning something of his own humanity. Similarly, deer represent the unattainable prey. Noli me tangere, says Caesar’s unattainable deer– touch me not, no matter how hard you may attempt to catch me. Jessa of EMH is deemed the unattainable companion and Jeff’s driving force to discover the truth behind the situation they’ve been placed in–it is Jessa, dangled in front of him after she goes missing, that leads Jeff down the path that inevitably leads to his own death after uncovering too much. The deer is to be chased, to be hunted, and never captured. Camilla from The Secret History believed herself to be a deer during the same hallucinatory bacchanal that cost a man his life, and led her brother and friends on a chase spanning miles. Jessa was hunted by an unknowable force, then used as bait to draw her partner down the path to his own death. Unattainability, the shape of something fleeing in front of you, elicits a powerful reaction to follow, to hunt, to chase. Jessa fell victim to that reaction. Camilla, and the white hind, did not.

3: The Myth of Diana and Actaeon, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--Madness

The Diana and Actaeon Fountain at the Caserta Royal Palace:

The detail of the fountain shown depicts the pivotal scene in the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, where Actaeon, mid-transformation into a stag, is killed for the slight of viewing the goddess Artemis nude.The sculpture shows the transformation in no mercy, plain in its depiction of Actaeon’s pain and terror, and the simple ferocity of the hounds that surround him.

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Jeff, blood spattered across him, speaking with a shocked and angry tone. The captions read, “Jeff: Why were we doing that? That was...that’s not what we were looking for. We knew damned well that wasn’t what we were trying to kill. (Vince: Close enough.) It was a deer! It was a fucking deer! I tried to pull you off, you tried to punch me in the fucking face!”

The Secret History, on the Greeks’ view of beauty and terror (bold for emphasis):

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful to souls like the Greeks or to our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripedes speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being’.”

Parallels drawn:

Most depictions of Actaeon, sculpture or painting, usually show him with antlers or a deer lower body, leaving his head and face a recognizable human shape. However, the sculptor here decided to subvert expectations and leave his body human, giving Actaeon the animal head of a stag. The loss of control and the descent from human to animal is not glorified or made palatable by the mere addition of a crown of antlers--there is only the one constant, fear, that follows him all the way down. Madness may be defined as a loss of control, and there may be something beautiful and terrifying in feeling your sanity slip through your own fingers. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie are overtaken by brief, inexplicable madness and tear apart a deer as they come dangerously close to uncovering exactly who and what is hunting them. They skate close to seeing soemthing they shouldn't see. It is only Jeff who looks up, shocked by the blood on his hands, and voices his fear. Vinnie, apathetic, lets it go. But Evan, houndlike and irrational, defends his kill.

4: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Warnings and Temptation

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Evan, spattered heavily with blood, standing with shoulders caved in protectively. His left hand is raised to his mouth, with his hair covering his eyes, and he is licking the blood off of his fingers.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“In my post about ravens, I talked about how it’s not always easy to tell what the Ravenstag really means. Is it evidence of the Hannibalesque elements of Will’s soul? Or a warning of those parts growing within him? Does the Ravenstag urge Will forward on his journey, or warn him of what’s to come?”

Hannibal, Season 1, Episode 1 “Aperitif”:

A shot of the Ravenstag, staring directly into the camera with one hoof up, as if to approach. There are black feathers interwoven with its pelt and its eyes have an uncanny shine.

Parallels drawn:

On a naturalistic note, deer are skittish creatures. They have thin legs and a sleek body, made for running. A small head and big eyes, placed wide-set to see coming predators. Keen ears. They are ready at any moment to sense danger, warn others, and flee. When a deer does not move, it is either safe or sizing up its options, either accepting where it is or preparing to run. Deer, staring directly at the viewer, come as a sympathetic warning to flee or, in its dark eyes and firm stance, a temptation. Me tangere, they say. Come closer. We are one and the same. In Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the commanding presence of the Ravenstag serves as both a warning and a beckoning temptation to turn his feet down the darker path. It is otherworldly, black-furred and feathered, and yet a warning of events rooted in the real world--does Will understand what danger he is in upon meeting Hannibal and take the warning, or will he ignore it, sensing that same darkness in himself, that same potential for corruption? In EverymanHYBRID, it is that same killing of a deer that hints at that same potential for darkness growing inside Evan. He licks at his fingers, animalistic, fully ignoring his own Ravenstag warning signs for the delight of the hunt. Is he Evan anymore? Or is something else growing inside him?

5: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Predator and Prey, or the Final Act

EverymanHybrid, “:D”:

A shot of HABIT, looking up a set of stairs with one foot on the bottom step. In one hand down by his side, he is holding a knife. His posture is tilted forward, poised, ready to spring into action, like that of a hunter.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“The idea of deer as symbols of rebirth also stands out to me. Hannibal is a series obsessed with becoming and transformation. People start one way, and are reborn as something completely other by the end of the show. There’s even a character sewn up into a deceased pregnant horse in the hopes that when she’s released, she will be literally reborn as something different. It’s thus a neat fit, this significance of deer with the themes of the show.”

EverymanHYBRID, “:D”:

A shot of Jeff, looking up and to the side with an expression of caution and fear. His eyes are unnerved, squinting as, from offscreen, HABIT’s hand plays idly with his hat.

Parallels drawn:

The first and final incarnation of the deer is, of course, prey. Beyond and before any symbolism of innocence and wildness and warnings, deer are prey animals, to be hunted and devoured. And yet, in keeping with the concept of contrasting symbolism, deer are not helpless. Yearly, they shed and regrow their antlers in a transformation of horn and blood. At the climax of EverymanHYBRID, the final reveal, the final transformation, comes to fruition. HABIT, formerly Evan, takes its place as the Hunter, the archetypal predator, with Jeff shown most prominently as the Prey. Jeff’s luck has run its course, with him in the chair as the sacrificial prey-victim to fall to HABIT’s knife. HABIT, reborn, reiterated, made incarnate through Evan’s unwilling transformation, is poised to start the hunt. This is the big reveal, the crux of the transformation, Actaeon caught mid-transfiguration and the bloody sloughing-off of velvet humanity to reveal perfect and gleaming antlers. This is what it comes down to, time and time again. The hunter and the hunted. The wilderness embraced and the wilderness captured, and the monstrosity in that act.

Works Cited

Callimachus. Actaeon and Artemis. C. 220 BC

Fuller, Bryan. “Apetirif.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 1, NBC, 4 Apr. 2013.

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2011, July 12). May & June [Video file].

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2012, October 9). :D [Video file].

Tartt, Donna. The Secret History. Penguin, 2006.

Uhminuh. “Shot Through the Hart, and Hannibal's to Blame.” Read the Rude, Wordpress, 19 July 2020.

Wyatt, Thomas. “Whoso List to Hunt, I Know where is an Hind.” c. 1530.

Honorary mention to this fanart by @/rrhaes that started this whole spiral

#emh #everymanhybrid #flickerthoughts #flicker wrote this #i'm serious when i say this has been brewing in my head for a calendar year #i finally pieced it together at the beginning of this week and it's STILL incomprehensible but i think the vibes are there #emh my beloved emh and the themes and motifs and symbolism that exists in my head #i have a love hate relationship w the secret history but i put it all in here #also i am two eps deep in hannibal but i think i got the gist idk #anyways i want you all to know i REALLY wanted to work in the iphigenia/steph parallels but it just didn't make sense in this context #maybe i'll post it later idk but!!! here take this #in keeping with the theme of my best literary analysis showing up when i'm at my breaking point wrt life #this :handshake: reylux parallels post -- created under emotional duress #i rly wanna do one that's like 'slenderverse women + being followed' bc that's a FEELING.#if i am saying the emh boys are actaeon torn to shreds by their own dogs after they hunt the wrong prey.....that's my business lmao #should i tag the other stuff? here i'll tag em here so they don't show up in search #hannibal #the secret history #flicker's meta

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aubergineanathema · 4 years ago

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A play in the distance

Part 1 - The ruin in the clearing: Preface Part 2 - Whispers in darkness Part 3 - Käsdorf and Wulvosburg Part 4 - Secrets behind stone walls Part 5 - Wind chimes and wildflowers Part 6 - Beneath the hillock Part 7 - Evidence of a struggle Part 8 - Murder of crows

----

Part 9.

Suddenly everything sounded very loud to Gunther. The horses were frantic. The wings of crows fluttered and as they shrieked down at them, as though mocking them from the branches high above. The wind howled as it picked up and the thunder cracked closer and louder than before. All of these sounds seemed oddly muted and flattened together, conflated into an angry roar. Just as strange was the comparatively demure sound of rending flesh; it seemed overwhelming in its subtlety. Emphasized. Focused.

And then there was the screaming.

Henry’s agonized screaming wobbled in and out of Gunther’s hearing. The force of the crow’s attack had thrown Henry back over the log he had been sitting on, tossing him onto his back. He lay prone now, his arms and legs flailing wildly about, his hands churning in the air with desperation as he tried to catch hold of the bird and fling it away from himself. His screams were made up of violent and incomprehensible cries of fear and pain that Gunther did not even understand as utterances in that moment. They sounded more like the garbled caterwaul of dogs and cats than words to process. No more understandable than what the horses were saying.

He watched as Henry struggled, mesmerized. In spite of the crow being easily within Henry’s reach, his fingers slipped through the feathers as though they were made of oil. Ephemeral. Illusory. The crow’s wings flapped with frantic intention to balance itself, and its talons remained stuck fast into the soft flesh of his face.

And it was not even these screams that took pride of place among the cacophony of sound assaulting Gunther in this instant. What still rung loudest in Gunther’s mind, more clearly than any of the other vacillating noises were the crow’s words. Stuck in time, he heard them over and over, as clearly as though they were still being spoken: It is forbidden for the peasantry to hunt on Vorsfelde land! This bird had spoken to them with a human tongue. With abundant clarity, it had communicated the precise nature of their crimes.

He had heard of such miraculous things before as beasts talking, but never had he witnessed anything even remotely similar. Long ago he had relegated such fables to the realm of fantasy. So far was this from credulity that, just like the scene he saw occurring immediately in front of him, he experienced it as though he were watching a play unfold from across a long courtyard. He was too far away to even comprehend it fully, let alone be able to have any influence upon it.

None of it seemed real.

He waited to wake up. To somehow reconcile insanity with reality.

Instead, as some of his senses returned to him, he realized that he was on his feet, standing stock still just above where he had been sitting moments before. They had all three of them jumped to their feet at the same time, when Henry had been attacked. An instant ago. An eternity ago. So automatic had been their initial reaction to fight or flee; it was completely foreign to the paralysis that gripped him now from head to foot. He realized his hands were clapped over his ears, but he could not even manage to lower them. His arms felt like swaying branches, clumsy, useless appendages. Not even his. He did not think anything could force him to move his legs of lead.

Frozen as he was, Gunter and the other two men could only continue to watch with detached horror as, one by one, as though following some silent queue, each crow swooped onto his friend in quick succession.

Or, that’s what it looked like at first.

As each crow swooped down and piled upon the last, Gunther began to have a hard time differentiating them from one another in the swarm. He found himself hoping it was some trick of the firelight, but he feared that was too much too hope for. They began to lose their shape--their very definition--right in front of him, dissolving into the growing mass of black birds. They melded into one another and soon there was only a swirling mass of feathers, beaks and talons. Soon, however, even these disembodied features melted into themselves. Until before them was not a murder of crows at all, but a single, smooth dark creature.

Darkly-clad and cowled, the entity was turned away from them, and so even as Gunther tried, he could not make out a face. The edges of its form were still of undefined character, shadowy and shifting, as though it were only borrowing this human shape and cloak. It loomed heavily over Henry, who was still screaming hoarsely.

The talons, still embedded, finally receded until they pulled away from the man’s maimed face entirely, before shifting before Gunther’s eyes into pallid hands, with long hooked nails the color of dirt and sand. Gunther could only watch as the hands returned to their victim, clasping him purposefully about the neck, before cutting the flesh there as easily as a lame scoring dough.

The creature leaned in, obscuring Henry’s terrified, marred face.

And then Henry was no longer screaming, but gurgling with the sick wet sound of the swell of blood.

“Christ almighty--we have to get out of here.” Rudolf’s stammering cut through the pregnant air. He spoke the words as though they were more intended to thrust himself into action than anything else.

Instead, he seemed only to catch the attention of the creature. The dark swirling shadow bent backward at a unnatural angle towards them, revealing a smooth and sallow face, as featureless as a clay mask, red eyes, and predatory fangs gleaming with blood. Transfixed by the creature, Gunter saw Rudolf turn and run only from the corner of his eye.

Then there was chaos.

All at once the thing lunged at them, dissolving almost immediately yet again into so many crows. They dispersed and attacked with clear intent and purpose. They attacked the shrieking horses. They flew by Gunther, clawing at his clothing and knocking him off-kilter. He hardly caught his breath before several other of the crows working in concert grabbed one of their tents in their talons and threw it straight into the fire, snuffing it out, and plunging them into almost total darkness.

A bolt of lightning flashed near them, the cracking of thunder following almost immediately, and then, down from the heavens, the rain began to fall. It pelted hard against the canopy, chilling Gunther’s already-trembling body as the droplets hit his skin. The sudden rain shocked him into a fuller awareness, but even so, he was blind in the darkness. He reached out, feeling for anything he might use to defend himself with, too terrified to dare to make a sound.

And then another scream pierced the air, halting after a moment with unnatural suddenness.

Another bolt of lightening lit the clearing for a brief instant. The tents were in ruins, and the horses were gone. And Gunther saw what looked like a boulder rolling towards them in the slight slope of the clearing. The lightning doubled back around him, and it was not a boulder, but Rudolf’s head: eyes terrified but vacant, mouth still lolling open in his severed scream.

Gunther toppled backward in a desperate attempt to get away from the nearby corpses, to get away from whatever fiend was tearing them apart, one by one. But his legs seemed to have no strength, and he did not even know which direction it was to the road.

He could hear nothing now but the rain and the rumbling thunder.

He knew he was next. He was about to die.

A hand upon his shoulder made him feel as though his soul was leaving his body, and he stifled a scream. But, he felt no claws rip into him. The hand was wet with rain but warm and firm.

“Come!” Bertrand’s voice. “Now!”

Gunther turned, hands grabbing at the other man with unrestrained panic as he tried to pull himself to his feet. His hands caught the man’s clothes and then his hand, and he cleaved to the only thing he thought might save him.

Bertrand pulled him and they ran into the copse. The man seemed to know where to go and Gunther could only trust him as wet branches, leaves and brambles pummeled them both, whipping and scraping against them as they forced their way through.

And then they were on the road, not pausing even for a moment as they continued to flee upon the path. Gunther could not hear or see any sign of the monster that had killed their friends, no matter how much he strained to see in the rain. He strained to hear anything over the rain and the rasping of his own breath. But he could not see any crows flying above them in the darkness, and he dared to hope they had made it away safely. Perhaps the fiend had had its fill with the horses and their friends.

Or perhaps it was like a cat. Allowing its prey to escape only for the thrill of the hunt.

“That village is not too far away from here!” Bertrand yelled back at Gunther, drawing his focus. “I think it’s this way.”

Gunther heard the words, but did not feel he could follow such a conversation. Instead he could only ask: “What was that! What was that thing?”

Bertrand did not pause their run, even as Gunther began to feel the drag of fatigue upon him. “I don’t know! That’s not for us to know! Focus on getting to town. If we can get to town, we’ll be--”

Lightning struck another tree in the forest, so near to them Gunther could feel the strange energy in the air around them. The resulting thunder drowned out their conversation.

But Gunther also saw something else.

In the flash of the lightning, a black specter crossed the lane in front of him, so quickly his eyes could hardly follow it. Then he saw it shoot across again as darkness settled over them again. He strained to see, but there was no light now. Suddenly, he felt unmoored. As through the ground had suddenly shifted. He stumbled backward, and as he caught his balance he realized that he was alone.

And still grasping his own hand, was Bertrand’s. Still warm.

But Bertrand was no longer with him on the road.

He dropped it, and he ran. ------

This has been Part 9. For more, see my Fiction Updates post.

------

If you like this or my other original work, please feel free to share with your friends (with credit of course). I would really like feedback, so don’t be shy to talk to me about it!

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libertyreads · 4 years ago

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Best and Worst Books of 2020

This has been a mess of a year for everyone, but I actually managed to get a lot of books read. I decided to repeat this post from last year because I enjoyed going back through all the things I read and remembering how I felt about them.

I’ll try to avoid any repeats, but I’m sure it’ll happen at some point. If you want more info about my feelings on these books, check out my ratings and reviews on GoodReads.

Best Sci-Fi: This one was such an easy pick for me. All Systems Red by Martha Wells. This whole series just knocks it out of the park. The Murderbot Diaries is a series about a Security Bot who hacks their governor module so they can just watch their shows all day. Too bad the humans they’re assigned to protect are getting into trouble left and right. Worst Sci-Fi: Starstruck by Brenda Hiatt. I remember this being a free e-book that I picked up this year. I explained it to my husband as a sci-fi version of Twilight. You get a small town nerdy girl with few friends who suddenly becomes important when this alien boy pays attention to her. It was definitely a book of its time. Best Fantasy: A Fantasy that I really enjoyed this year was Fable by Adrienne Young. It is about a girl whose pirate father leaves her stranded on a deserted island after her mother dies. If she can survive, she can find her way back to him and receive her inheritance. It goes in depth about family and friendship. Plus found families. Am I right? Worst Fantasy: The Magicians by Lev Grossman. Oh boy. How do I get into it with this one without regurgitating my review? I had a problem with the author taking all of the best known magical stories of all time and twisting them throughout this dense book in order to point out that magic is a problem to be dealt with and not all unicorns and rainbows--just to rip that point out of the reader’s hands in the last four pages of the novel. Please read my review I go so in depth there. Best Contemporary: Second Chance Summer by Morgan Matson. I think this was mostly just that I read this book at the right time. This book is about a family who is going through a hard time when the father is diagnosed with terminal cancer. They decide to spend one final summer at their cabin on the lake before he passes. I distinctly remember crying my eyes out at the end of this one and it hitting me so hard. Worst Contemporary: Girls in the Moon by Janet McNally. This was a Book of the Month pick for me at a time when they had less variety in their options. I felt like I couldn’t keep pushing back my picks every month. It’s a story about this rock band family who divorced in the late 90s and the fall out for their two children while one moves to New York to pursue a music career. A lot of fluff and almost no substance. Best Mystery: This is the year I realized that I like YA Mystery novels and not a lot else in the mystery genre. I had a three way tie for best Mystery and they call came from the YA Age Range. The Hand on the Wall by Maureen Johnson, In the Hall with the Knife by Diana Peterfreund, and The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. These were all done so well and all taking the things I love about mysteries and twisting them. Worst Mystery: In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware. I had heard so many amazing things about this book, but it fell so flat for me. I hate unreliable narrators. Why are they necessary in this genre? I feel like if you need an unreliable narrator to write a good mystery then you’re a bad mystery author. Best YA: Traitor to the Throne by Alwyn Hamilton. This is book 2 in the Rebel of the Sands series. It’s a desert Fantasy that is written so well. The world building is fantastic. We have a rebellion, magic, and some amazing characters. In book two we see Amani thrust into court politics. I marathoned this whole series in a couple of weeks and loved the adventure. Worst YA: The worst YA book I read this year was Wink Poppy Midnight by April Genevieve Tucholke. I felt like the story went no where and the writing was overly flowery. I’m sure it does good things for some people but it’s the polar opposite of what I love in books. Best Adult: For this one we have a two way tie. The first book is House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) by Sarah J. Maas. Is this the next great American novel? Of course not. But I had an amazing time reading this book. I felt so many feelings and the world building was fantastic. The second book is In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren. I read an ARC of this for my Christmas in July and enjoyed it so much I had to read it again right before Christmas. It was perfect for getting in the Christmas spirit. Worst Adult: This category is also a two way tie. I read The Broken Girls by Simone St. James and thoroughly disliked the mystery aspect of the story. I felt like it was left too open ended and it completely put me off. The second is a book of poetry called Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. It felt like a lot of these poems were incomplete thoughts. Maybe it’s how open it is too interpretation again, but I really did not like this at all. Best New Release: This feels like the hardest category to pick from. If we’re going based on ratings, Check, Please! Volume #2: Sticks and Scones is the highest rated new release that I read this year. But I also have a couple of YA Mystery novels that I read this year that I loved and that stuck with me throughout the year. The first is The Hand on the Wall by Maureen Johnson which is the third book in the Truly Devious series and finishes out that mystery arc. The second is The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes which I have been raving about since I read it this fall. The Inheritances games is the first book in a new series that is like a combination of Knives Out and Clue plus puzzles minus a few murders. It’s just so good. So, a top three for this category I guess. Worst New Release: The Bookweaver’s Daughter by Malavika Kannan. This one was easy to pick hands down. I felt like this book brushed over some major events that happened. As well, there’s a major lack of world building in this novel. I think with some polishing it could have made for a good middle grade novel but was sold as a YA novel. Best Backlist: The City of Brass by S.A. Chakraborty. I’m normally not huge into Adult Fantasy, but I feel like the author does a good job of making the world accessible to the reader even though it’s vast with a lot of political machinations. Probably one of the best series I read start to finish this year. Worst Backlist: The Cruelty by Scott Bergstrom. I was going to put in Wink Poppy Midnight here again, but technically I gave The Cruelty the same rating and I wanted to avoid repeats. For this one, I gave a LENGTHY review about my problems with the book. I wanted to like it, but the author’s internalized ableism and misogyny really ruined the party here. Best 2021 ARC: This was a two way tie between “You Have a Match” by Emma Lord and “Shipped” by Angie Hockman. I had no idea I enjoyed these equally because they’re such different books. Both are contemporaries but “You Have A Match” is YA Contemporary about families and secrets while “Shipped” is an Adult Contemporary about a hate to love romance and work/life balance. Worst 2021 ARC: “The Castle School (for Troubled Girls)” by Alyssa B. Sheinmel. This one is more of a problem about what the publishers sold the book as. Because the book summary wasn’t correct when it came to the whole point of the book. So I went in with completely incorrect expectations. I think because of the plot twist I would have still rated it lower than the other 2021 ARCs I read, but it would have been a closer contest. Best Standalone: I Hope You’re Listening by Tom Ryan. This is a YA Mystery that came out this Fall that I really enjoyed. It’s about a girl who is present when her friend gets taken from the woods. Years later she still has trouble dealing with being the child left behind so she starts a podcast to help people solve missing persons cases. It also had a surprise cult element that I wasn’t expecting and really enjoyed. Worst Standalone: Meet Me at Fir Tree Lodge by Rachel Dove. This one is a bit blurred in my brain. I think that really speaks to how I feel about this one. It is about a girl whose life falls apart after a skiing accident and how she tries to put it back together. But it involves a romance with an Alpha Male character which everyone hates at this point. I wanted it to be sweeter and softer and more heart wrenching than it was. Best Book in a Series: All Systems Red by Martha Wells. I scoured my spreadsheets to try to find a book I hadn’t already gushed over, but there’s a reason this one is in the top of so many categories. I love Murderbot and following all of their misadventures. The Murderbot Diaries is a series about a Security Bot who has hijacked their Governor Module and just wants to watch their serials all day. But those pesky human’s they’re hired to protect keep getting themselves in trouble. Worst Book in a Series: I found the book in a series that I gave the worst rating to and I had to go over my review to try to remember what it’s even about. I read Legacy of Ash by Matthew Ward which is the first book in the Legacy Trilogy. And I still don’t remember much about it. I remember it being dense and hard to read without getting a lot out of the book in reward for my effort. It was a hard slog and clearly not great if I can’t remember what it’s about less than 9 months after I read it.

#end of the year posts #booklr #bookstagram #best books #worst books #best book #worst book #books of 2020 #books read in 2020 #2020 reading challenge #goodreads challenge #goodreads

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mirrorfalls · 4 years ago

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The Alchemist When He’s Full of Metal, Vol. 27

(Vol. 1, Vol. 2, Vol. 3, Vol. 4, Vol. 5, Vol. 6, Vol. 7, Vol. 8, Vol. 9, Vol. 10, Vol. 11, Vol. 12, Vol. 13, Vol. 14, Vol. 15, Vol. 16, Vol. 17, Vol. 18, Vol. 19, Vol. 20, Vol. 21, Vol. 22, Vol. 23, Vol. 24, Vol. 25, Vol. 26)

And lo, there shall be an ending.

A double-triple-deluxe ending. It’s never an easy prospect, giving everyone something to do in your Grand Finale, but the genre pretty much demands it - even when the finesse needed to juggle dozens of protagonists and deuteragonists in the same room have crushed countless otherwise-talented writers. On the low end of the scale, of course, we have our pick of any Big Two kill-a-hundred-C-listers-cripple-a-couple-more crisis crossover (which, adding insult to injury, never actually end anything apart from the fans’ patience), and on the high end...

... on the high end, this is a pretty good candidate.*

I suppose I’m cheating, since this particular Final Battle started anywhere from one to six volumes beforehand, during which everyone from the Armstrongs to the Curtises to the Xingese to Scar to Marcoh to Yoki got to contribute something. But this is where the not-my-our victory theme truly congeals. Here, a lesser writer would’ve decided everyone else has already done their part and relegated them to cheerleading while Ed pastes the Dwarf solo; here, Arakawa makes damn sure that you know Ed owes it all to the sacrifices of unambiguous friends....

... and supposed foes.

Now, in case you think I’m getting too gushy: I still think the Dwarf in itself is an underwhelming Big Bad, and its actual “death” scene is visually impressive but emotionally not too different from setting the week’s trash out on the curb. I’m also not too unsympathetic to those who came away from this scene deciding Truth is the real Big Bad of the series**, or that the true moral is closer to “Equivalent Exchange rules all... but there’s still a guy at the top who gets to rule on what Equivalent is.”

A point made all too clear by what comes after.

Don’t get me wrong - I love that Arakawa doesn’t let the Epic War story get the last word over the small, all-too-human quest the Elrics started out on. And Ed’s giving up all his powers (and implicitly at least 75% of his combat ability) is still refreshingly unique among Shonen protagonists, even counting those whose powers are literally lethal curses. But I really could’ve done without Truth suddenly deciding to like and approve of the kid like some kind of auxiliary sensei. Even if it’s not a cheat - and I don’t think the manga ever denies that every single Gate Exchange only happened because Truth let it happen - it drains quite a bit of ambiguity and hardship from a scene that could only have benefited from both.

And then you’ve got Mustang’s equivalent to the above:

Okay, so Mustang never willingly entered the Gate - it’s fair enough he’d get his eyes back with less fuss, and on top of that he doesn’t actually get to be Fuehrer. I’ve no complaints on that front, but I wish a bit more space had been devoted to the Ishvalans beyond “Bad Army Men out, Good Army Men make everything okay for you oppressed peons now!” In particular, it feels off for Scar’s final scene to be with the uniforms that wreaked so much havoc on his people; I’m not saying he should’ve turned his backs on them entirely, but tell me it wouldn’t have been more heartwarming to see him rejoining the other Ishvalan refugees, or even Mei and Yoki.

Speaking of heartwarming... okay, I don’t have the time or space to go into all of the different epilogue-threads, but I’d just like to highlight this one in particular, because more than any of the others it lands just the right amount of hope.

Selim is, in the final analysis, a Nina who was saved - an innocent child, involved in repulsive alchemy experiments through no fault of his own, now untangled from it all and allowed to live as freely as he can. And through him, Arakawa raises a question I’d been wondering a while now: why should Homunculi be so feared and hated on sight, to the point where Mustang and friends spend multiple chapters acting like the Fuehrer being a Homunculus should in itself be a career-ending scandal? Oh, the seven Sins have the whole stigma from the Dwarf, fair enough, but they can’t have been the only Homunculi in existence, else the secrecy of their existence would preclude Amestris even having a term for it; and hell, when the chips were down, one of those seven turned around and gave its life to do the right thing.

They can learn. They can change. They can love. Not for certain - but then, a child should never be a promise, only potential. Potential to go higher than the last generation ever dreamed - or lower than it ever dreaded.

And that, ladies and gents, was Fullmetal Alchemist.

Is it good? Definitely.

Is it great? In many parts, yes.

Is it the epitome of everything the Internet says it is? No - at least, not at the stage I read it.

I can say this without hesitation: if this had been my first or second or even fifth Shonen, devoured anytime during my school years, I’d almost certainly be a full-on stan today. It’s a machine with many, many excellent parts - maybe too many to build a properly excellent whole. You’ve got all the talent and ingredients for a first-rate fighting fantasy, or globetrotting political thriller, or horror-fable about the follies of playing God, or goofy-ass romcom, or heartbreaking war drama, or a half-dozen other storytypes. Perhaps a more seasoned author could’ve mined the strongest benefits of each while keeping them all in line; as-is, they compete with each other as much as they complement. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen a perfectly poignant moment cut apart by an ill-timed joke, or how many many potentially interesting plot/character moments were either let down by insufficient worldbuilding or left dangling altogether.

(I’m told that 108 is some sort of sacred number in Japan, so I presume Arakawa had the total length mapped out before she even started the series, But as any author can tell you, no outline survives contact with reality; some characters might have been better off folded into others, some plot-threads trimmed altogether. I, for one, still can’t quite figure out why the heroes needed four chimeras turned to their side.)

At my current age, I suppose my eyes are a little too jaded, a little too impatient with (or worse, eager to point out) shortcomings big and small and subjective alike. But make no mistake: I don’t regret finally finishing this little epic, and if half my mutuals’ accounts are to be believed, it's just the start of the real fun to be had with the series.

Hi-ho, to AO3!

*The midpoints that come most immediately to (my) mind are Harry Potter, Gravity Falls, and Samurai Jack. Which stands atop which is an exercise for the individual reader.

**Y’know, there is still plenty of time for Arakawa to roll out a sequel series where our heroes fight actual God instead of a wannabe. ‘til then, let’s content ourselves with this.

#Lego reviews stuff #Fullmetal Alchemist #It's done #FINALLY DONE #Now I just need to read the remaining 20 Discworlds #And give that Chinese Necromancer drama a look-see #And... and...

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chaotic-bells · 4 years ago

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🌟 dig a little deeper 🌟

My tag buddy Emma @herefortommo knows my addiction to tag games too well and tagged me for this fun one. It is indeed long, so read more after the thingy.

I’ll tag... @promisethatillnevertell and @cgg3913 - it’s totally fine if you don’t do it! this is a long, long one.

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen?

blue pen

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city?

country

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be?

writing

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar?

yes, how much will depend on the mood and what it is.

5. what was your favorite book as a child?

I had two books of fables, like... massive books with over 100 fables each. I read *a lot* as a child, but these two were some of my favorites as a little kid.

6. do you prefer baths or showers?

shower. really don’t like baths - i get suuuper bored and it feels cramped (probably because not only am I tall, but I am also fat)

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be?

vampire

8. paper or electronic books?

paper is nicer, but I don’t mind ebooks at all and it’s nice cause I have a huuuuge collection at all times.

9. what is your favorite item of clothing?

a sheer tiered black dress. dresses in general.

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it?

nah, it’s fine. when I was a kid I wanted to be called Luisa, which is what my dad wanted to name me and it was the name of my best friend. since I’ve started using nicknames more, i don’t mind so much.

11. who is a mentor to you?

don’t think I have one. @whatagreatproblemtohave was definitely unknowingly (or knowingly, possibly) my Tumblr mentor. but in life i was just the .... go and do it type.

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for?

not particularly. a writer would be a cool kind of famous; mainly famous between fans, no one would recognize you all that much and you probably could still live a somewhat normal life.

13. are you a restless sleeper?

depends. i usually don’t remember dreaming, i fall asleep pretty much instantaneously when i want (people have said it’s almost freaky at how fast i fall asleep) and stay that way until my cats start headbutting me in the morning. But from time to time, usually when I’m stressed with something, i do remember my dreams and then it’s just tossing and turning the whole evening.

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person?

yes i am. but I also have a baggage where this was used against me, and it’s really hard for me to show that side anymore, so I usually come off as cold.

15. which element best represents you?

earth

16. who do you want to be closer to?

some of the people i’ve met recently here. i think there are a lot of people here who share my world view and could be amazing real life friends.

17. do you miss someone at the moment?

no one in particular. i miss the idea of someone though.

18. tell us about an early childhood memory.

when I was about 6, my friend and I were very bored and it was very warm. we stealthily stole a bunch of toilet paper rolls from our apartments, went down to the building’s playground, stuffed the paper in all the drains and turned on the hose. We flooded the playground really, really badly, but weren’t discovered until hours later when we went to our homes soaking wet from playing all day.

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten?

I don’t think it is strange - it is super tasty - but loads of people freak out? Chicken feet, neck and other weird bits of the chicken? My grandmother used to make them in a stew like way, and they get all melty and it’s delicious. Also ‘dobradinha’ which i don’t like at all, which is made out of cow's flat white stomach lining. And cow’s tongue, which is probably the best part of the cow and people who have never eaten one cooked well really freak out?

20. what are you most thankful for?

not sure how this is going to sound like, but... my own adaptability. i really can’t imagine where I would be right now if I wasn’t so good at handling life changes. I’m 31 and already had to start over with nothing to my name four times.

21. do you like spicy food?

Not really. I mean, I do - but I like the spice level to be at a point where I can taste the dish. I don’t like when everything is so spicy you might as well just eat the pure pepper, which seems to be most dishes I see. Pepper can be super flavorful, but if all you’re feeling is the heat than that’s not enjoyable for me.

22. have you ever met someone famous?

yes, quite a few times. both my mom and my stepfather worked in TV and cinema (where they met) as a costume designer and sound engineer, and with that I met loads of people.

23. do you keep a diary or journal?

tried many times, failed. I’m horrible with a routine.

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil?

pen

25. what is your star sign?

capricorn

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy?

crunchy

27. what would you want your legacy to be?

i don’t really care? i don’t feel like i need to leave my mark on the world.

28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read?

yes, a lot. i’ve been reading a LOT of fanfiction. Actual book was probably The Rosary Girls.

29. how do you show someone you love them?

spending time with them, sharing interests. it will very very rarely be a vocal thing.

30. do you like ice in your drinks?

depend on the drink. i prefer if the drink itself is cold.

31. what are you afraid of?

disappointing people. (and never seeing 1D back together). This is an unintentional RPDR reference, but that dialogue really spoke to my soul.

32. what is your favorite scent?

peppermint

33. do you address older people by their name or surname?

name.

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life?

probably the same, except with less worry. instead of working on what I do now, I would spend my time volunteering for a cat shelter, or have my own. more time for my craft and sewing, would study something.

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean?

neither, if I am honest, but definitely swimming pools if i’m forced to chose.

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground?

try to find the owner. if I couldn’t, i would keep it. wallets are one thing - i’ve found a few before and I always call their bank and give them my contact (not the police, that doesn’t do anything), but pure cash? can’t trace that. i’ve lost money before, and i just hope whoever found it used it well.

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish?

yes and yes.

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children?

empathy

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it?

my next one is definitely going to be Louis’ smiley face. I actually dreamed about it this evening, it was a very anxious dream and apparently my subconscious really want me to get the smiley with a tiny little doodle anchor next to it? on my wrist?

40. what can you hear now?

the fan of my computer screaming and my cats eating.

41. where do you feel the safest?

my bed

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer?

is it too much to put my entire childhood here?

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be?

Woodstock. I would enjoy those days for about a week before going mad. I like my modern comforts.

44. what is your most used emoji?

🤣

45. describe yourself using one word.

impulsive

46. what do you regret the most?

nothing. i do the best i can at the situation I am in. yes, i would probably change stuff if i had the knowledge i have today, but that’s not regret.

47. last movie you saw?

Mr. Right.

48. last tv show you watched?

Ru Paul Drag Race All Start season 5

49. invent a word and its meaning

out of 49 this is the only one I’ll skip. oversharing? no problem. creativity? erm... my brain just goes blank.

#tag games

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simplysoriya · 5 years ago

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The Eternal Serpent

{Prologue, 1, 2, 3, interlude, 4, 5}

Chapter 6: The Temple

In deep ocean, currents were powerful and always in motion just above the surface. Vast and endless bodies of water pushed themselves, unchanging, in the direction that they always had. There was something ancient and unyielding about the way nature operated. Changed by nothing but itself. Songs were written about the sea in ways men speak of lovers, both soothing enough that every sailor kept it close to their heart and all fiercely respected it borne of fear.

Sailors wrote songs about the sea as if they were lovers. The gentle embrace and feeling of freedom that came with the life of wind in their hair and the sun on the horizon. But they also spun tales of the harsh and unforgiving ocean and the fury of storms that had swallowed up so many of their kind, instilling both fear and respect.

Such was the duality of the ocean.

But below? There was calm and serene in the gentle embrace of salt water that wrapped all that dare to plunge in. Leaving them surrounded from head to toe aimlessly floating amongst the endless miles of nothing but sea.

Each paddle taken downward was colder than the last. The vibrant sun with both light and warmth strangled by the ever encroaching sea. Leaving the seafloor blotched with stretches of white sands and underwater flora right along with spanning pits of empty black trenches where the light dare not tread.

It was far from the sunny beaches of Stranglethorn or the temperate shorelines of Tanaris…

Pressure began to wrack at her muscles producing involuntary contractions and tension as she braved the large trench that seemed to taper off into oblivion. Her lungs began begging for air needily with each second spent below the waves. But still she persisted deeper down the underwater cliff face with nothing but stubborn determination and a sense of hope.

After all, the alternative was a boat full of pirates still waiting for her up above. Undoubtedly already preparing to pursue her.

Running parallel to the jagged rock wall that led to the dark depths below light became scarce. Soriya remembered the reading light she had snagged from the goblin Quartermaster before. Fishing into her pocket to pull the small enchanted stone free, holding it in her palm with a gentle squeeze before a soft yellow light leaked from between her fingers.

It wasn’t much but it was enough to light her way as she explored down into the deeps further and further still.

Scrolling over the expanses of rocks was a daunting task with a limited window. Without diving gear or an extra tank of oxygen only gave her so much time to find the temple she sought. But it was all she had as others threatened to use the legend to their own ends and snatch the find from right under her. She couldn’t just accept defeat after coming so far, after doing so much, after investing so much of her life into finding it…

It was now or never.

It wasn’t until that dull light scanned over a smoother stone then the rest that hope was reignited fervently. A smooth banner rested far too perfect for it to be made from the ocean itself. Swimming down she investigated further only to find an old and broken down statue, full of pores and beaten by the passage of time spent underwater. But there was no mistaking the markings of a Pandarian cloud serpent.

She had finally found it; The Temple of the Eternal Serpent.

The crawling swim through the Temples rocky, dilapidated, and dark entrance seemed to go on forever. She thought her lungs would explode in her chest as anxiety began to wrack at her mind. It hadn’t even crossed her mind, despite its oceanic grave, that the whole temple may be underwater. A severe misstep in her plan that only darkened her thoughts as she desperately continued, knowing full well that she wouldn’t make it to the surface in time to replenish her air supply.

In the darkness, however, there was a glimmer of hope as the tunnel narrowed and led upward. Leaving a shimmering ripple of light against the surface of the water. Swiftly Soriya swam toward salvation as her lungs bucked and bubbles of the last of her air escaped her mouth making her chest heave and spasm.

A deep and needful gasp for breath immediately followed as the young monk resurfaced in the Temples entrance with a splash. Relenting to lay on the stone plateau sprawled out as half of her body remained beneath the water. Coughing and sputtering as she wheezed in air enough to fill her chest. It was like the whole world went black for just a moment as she desperately tried to normalize her breathing.

Eventually, once she felt well enough, Soriya squared her arms with her shoulders and lifted herself out from the pool that almost was her end. Soon scrambling to the first available surface to rest her back on as she continued to recover.

Fending off the excitement over the find proved to be a downhill battle. Here she was, standing where legend was born. The setting of a story she had heard so long ago. A place so many others had sought out only to fail. But here she was. History was within her grasp, if only her lungs would get on the same page as her mind.

Still weary she pushed on, even as her body rebelled against the very thought. She was too close now, she had gone through too much to take a break.

Stubbornly she pressed on down the dark hallway made of ancient stone. She recognized the familiarity of it as large blocks lay on top of one another in a near perfect pattern, held up by smooth and rounded pillars that the Pandarian often use in their infrastructure. Nothing but her stolen reading light in hand to lend to the dim light that radiated from scriptures on the wall.

Her mind raced as it filled with what awaited her deeper within. The legend had spoke of three trials she would face once within these walls. One of strengths, one of will, and a third that was shrouded in mystery. Each having a unique challenge that was never expanded on in any text she had read.

Arriving at the first room in the temple Soriya was greeted with a wondrous, large and grand antechamber. Six pillars stood flanking the room arranged in a circle with a single plaque situated in the center of them. On the other side of the room, at first glance, was simply an imposing door sealed off with a large stone slab.

As she stepped into the chamber Soriya’s eyes lit with awe as she spun in stride to take in all the room had to offer. Murals of the Jade Serpent sprawled out over the smooth faces of the walls behind the pillars depicting Fe’lon, The Eternal Serpent, finding his home in the mountains and settling down. Presumably to this very spot.

Drifting closer to the murals, a stark reminder that she wasn’t alone in her pursuits hung heavy. As much as she wanted to soak in every aspect of the fabled temple there was hardly time with the threat of treasure seekers looming in the back of her mind.

A dejected sigh rumbled as she lowered her head toward the ground. Making her way to the center chamber, those teal eyes of hers longingly drifted toward the piece of pandarian culture that had been swallowed up by the sea and lost by time, whimsically staring as if she was saying goodbye to an old friend.

With a brush of her hand to clear the modest amount of dust that covered the plaque, Soriya scanned over their words for a clue that would lead her further into the temple. It was written in old pandarian, but she could still make out the words after a little study. Quietly she read aloud to herself,

“Steel yourself for these trials will test your very soul.”

“The first will challenge your resolve. Remove the obstacle from the doorway to proceed to the next trial.”

It wasn’t the most informative slab of stone in the world, that much was certain, but it did serve to add context to the chamber itself. The doorway she had spotted early came under increased scrutiny of those teal eyes. Leaving little doubt it was the way forward… it just came to dealing with the massive stone wall, easily twice her size, that blocked the way. Off to the side was a thick rope that was tethered to the ground in two spots. It ran up and into the ceiling right next to the wall she sought to move. Another clue that hid obscured behind pillars on her initial gaze.

Drawing nearer to the challenge Soriya studied the obstruction with knitted brows and a quizzical face. There was no way she could lift that on her own, not without help. It was clear the rope tied into things as well. The fact that these trials were meant to be faced by one person alone only deepend the mystery.

Regardless of the case she had to try something...

Both hands came to take a firm grasp of the rope off to the side. Straining herself as she tugged hard against the cord, and as fate would have it, the stone slab rose an inch for her efforts. A happy surprise that brought a smile to her face as she continued to heave away, lifting the door up inch by inch against the strain of her efforts.

Though the smooth sailing far too quick, for as soon as she let go of the rope the stone fell before crashing into the floor with a boom so loud it shook the chamber. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Soriya tried again, taking the rope within her hands and tugging fistful by fistful with her weight against the rope. Desperately she looked for something to tether the rope to, another clamp on the floor. But she found no such luck. She took the rope as far into the room as she could. But the pillars remained too far for her to tie it to.

Frustration came in waves as the young monk let the door crash onto the floor once more. And once more it threatened to collapse the ancient structure down around her head.

There was one more idea she had left to try, though it was the most dangerous of the attempts thus far. With the swim down already offering up a hazard to her life, Soriya saw little choice if she wanted to progress further into the temple.

For the third time, she wrapped her hands around the thick rope with a vice like grip. Pulling to leverage the door open bit by bit as each handful drew her closer to the juncture. She got as close as she could while the slack of the rope piled up behind her, up until she could see the winding hallway leading to the next trial.

With a deep and clearing breath she tugged as hard as she could toward the door only to abandon the rope mid way through. Throwing herself into a roll right under the now falling slab of stone that would crush her in a heartbeat. Speed was of the essence as the young monk braced herself in a kneel, her head tucked down to run parallel with her shoulders, and her hands right above them, only to catch the stone and stop its momentum. Her hands enveloped in ivory energies of chi helped her keep the stone in place, but such an exponential explosion of her energy? So quickly? She couldn’t keep it up long as the stone continually reminded her with its weight, bearing down until she began to buckle under the pressure.

Inch by inch Soriya waddled her way toward her goal, so within reach now that all she had to do was fight against the burden that had already pushed her hands to meet her shoulders. It wasn’t until she was a step away that she scurried, sliding her bottom half out first as her hands pushed against the falling door, only serving to speed up her exit from under it.

SLAM!!

The door crashed down behind her in tandem with the relieved exhale that escaped her after she had cleared the obstacle.

“One trial down…” She muttered to herself as she continued deeper into the ancient temple.

#RP #canon #story #stories #temple of the eternal serpent #chapter 6 #Soriya #wra

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olivermajor226 · 5 years ago

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Drafted: Chapter 2 Preview

I know it’s been months since I’ve posted anything on any story, but I wanted to let you know I’ve got almost-ready drafts of Engines, Between and Drafted. As an apology for my absence, here’s a gratuitous portion of the beginning of chapter 2 of Drafted for you to read until I finish things. (A reminder: Drafted takes place after the events of part 1 of Fray, and follows Logan’s life during the mutant-human war.)

Thanks, all. Especially for the readers who haven’t given up on me. ❤️

Chapter 2: To Lose

(Pinwheel Universe: Original Timeline, March 2017)

Logan knew what it meant to feel a heart stop beating. His own had, more times than he could count. He’d fucking survived without a heart at all, wiped down to just a fucking skeleton, and he had, only hours later, stood up a whole man and walked off without a mark on him. But while he’d felt his own heart shudder and still, that wasn’t the only heart he’d witnessed end. He’d felt many hearts cease, not only hearts he’d intentionally stopped, but others, too. He knew what it meant in that moment when somethin’, call it a soul, call it somethin’ else, left. The body settling. The will of life…just gone.

He had faint memories, ones that might make themselves more vivid in nightmares, of death being more familiar to other folks, too. Back when it happened more often. Famine, disease. His mind groggily pulled words forward like consumption and scarlet fever. You saw death. Children died. Families lessened. You’d wrap a black band on your arm, women would drape themselves in the color. Back then, there was a certain respect, Logan understood, about grief. A knowing. A recognition. A moment people took to pause.

But then, his memories had revealed the obvious. Vaccinations for Polio. Smallpox. Shit got easier. People lived longer. Children died far less often, to the point where families started having less of them. Death, in a temporary sense, evaded. And it stopped appearing in the streets. It stopped being in the homes. He watched, as folks began seein’ death for what it wasn’t instead of what it was; in one word: commonplace.

What did it mean, anyway, to be alive? Was a sense of self, a consciousness, enough to constitute a life? He’d seen men without souls walk and talk and command the deaths of thousands. He’d killed Nazis, after all. But he’d also seen the last breath leave the lungs of kind and gentle souls to the point where the body wouldn’t quite stop, confused somehow, pining, maybe, for why it had been abandoned.

To die. To sleep.

He’d read Shakespeare. He’d read everything. It’s what you did, back then. You wanted entertainment outside of a woman’s thighs and the bottom of a booze bottle? You read. And he’d read them all. Faulkner. Joyce. Walker. Hemingway. Woolf. Fitzgerald. Tolstoy. The ancients, too. Aristotle. Plato. Odysseus.

But Shakespeare, that sonofabitch sometimes would stick with him. He’d forgotten it all, after Alkali, but in the months of the waning year of 2015, the year he’d found her and lost her all over again, his memories, along with memories of all the stories he’d read, came back to him. To die, to sleep. No more—and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to—‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.

To die, to sleep.

Jesus fucking Christ, how many times had he wished for it.

Death had a way of coming ‘round though. Another year after her death. Then another. In the field he’d witnessed slaughter after slaughter. The jet would take him to places like Mongolia, Russia, Brazil, but everywhere it was the same. Mutants bein’ rounded up. Internment camps more common. Torture. Greif. The face of death, returning. You never stopped the fuckin’ wars for long. Humans were always keen on killin’ one another.

To die. To sleep.

Another life, sugar. A better one.

North Point though, it remained, and the temporary shelter the X-Men had taken up became more permanent. As Logan’s grief steadied, as he shoved down the fucking torment and heartache of it all, he’d been reestablished as lead of all team missions, but, more imporantly, Storm and Logan had made it a monthly resonisbility to oversee the rations and wellbeing of North Point. It was something, from that fateful windy day he’d escaped from the bowels of the place, he’d relearned. Sustainability, too, had found its way into the commune. Working sanitation systems. Plastic partitions instead of tents and lean-tos. Furniture in places, a community area to live and work. In the summer, community gardens and a small farm on the edge of the property, shielded by tech that had been put in place. In a sense, a semblance of a life. Storm served on the board of community members dealing with grievances, but Logan, he’d stayed in the shadows, much more apt to stalk about the place, checking in on the people he’d grown fond of, the people that had helped him get through the worst.

A warm hand on his naked shoulder, for one. He shot upright, after a short, quaking nightmare of his mother with a shotgun pointed at her temple, one of his oldest memories he suspected and feared was real, when he felt her warm naked body move closer even as he reached for his clothes.

“Already?” she asked simply. He jerked his head back to her face, the bright white of her hair partially covering the angry dark green lines of scarred skin mimicking the “M” that had been carved along her purple eyes years ago. Her thin arm of paler green skin that graced her entire body slung around his body that he gently moved aside. She had been one of the most abused at Two Rivers long before he had met her, beaten and tortured mostly, for having a complexion so different. A damn shame, because she was so fucking beautiful.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Been here too long as it is. Didn’t mean to fall asleep after,” he murmured, but upon sensing her grief, he turned to her once more, murmuring a “hey,” briefly running a sturdy, heavy hand along her delicate jawline, which she leaned into and closed her eyes in response. It was a somewhat false intimacy, they both knew it, but it was the respect they felt they both owed one another after the sex they both so desperately craved, but rarely received, except for in these stolen moments slipped between plastic partitions of the mutant compound in the middle of the night.

“Ok,” she whispered, pulling her naked form more into itself. “Ida will be up soon anyway,” she said, running a hand through her long thick hair, throwing her purple irises across the room to another plastic partitioned space, where her daughter, also brutally maimed across her right eye with the same green skin slept.

“You get the extra provisions I sent you, baby?” He asked, even as he pulled on his military grade cargo pants, and she looked up to him meekly on the mattress on the floor and military grade blankets, offering him a small smile.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “But the Pepsi was too much.”

Logan only smirked oddly at her, and winked.

“Kid’s gotta have some luxuries. I nearly lost my neck on that raid,” he said as he finished pulling on his boots, sitting in the one chair at the card table of the dwelling.

“She was bouncing off the walls because of the sugar,” the woman said, rolling her eyes and clutching her blankets tightly. Then, her smile fell as she knowingly looked up to him again.

“How long this time?” she asked through a quiet grimace. Logan immediately frowned, even as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Months, kid. They’re sending me to Antarctica,” he muttered, walking back to the mattress and the woman on the floor.

“Why there?” she asked hesitantly.

“There’s a mutant compound that’s thrivin’. Chuck’s gonna have us try to form an alliance. If we do, it could mean a lot better life for you all here,” he muttered, kneeling once more on the mattress to lay a hand on her thin shoulder.

“You, always running off to save the world,” she smiled coyly, but he only snorted in jest.

“Just tryin’ to survive, baby. You know that,” he responded, now glancing at the other partition where he knew the little girl slept with a soft brown teddy bear Logan had managed to procure for her, who she had deftly named “Fable.”

“You and Ida gonna be alright?” he asked carefully, sullen hazel eyes looking to the woman, even if he already knew the answer.

“You know we will,” she murmured knowingly, and then he leaned into kiss her simply, delicately, like the relationship they shared with one another. After that, he stood back up, eyes on the door. But he could still feel her watching him.

“Don’t die,” she said simply.

He turned back to her for the last time, an odd smirk on his face.

“Not possible for me, kid. Take care, alright?” She only nodded, once more accepting his absence and the immense loneliness that would most likely accompany it. And then he was gone, along the winding row of the compound, one hand in a tight fist at his side, his eyes on the exit, on the next thing to keep surviving.

#wolverine #logan #drafted

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ozcarpin · 6 years ago

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Your thoughts on the rwby season finale tomorrow?

I’m going to be completely honest here.

I’m hopeful.

I’m not confident, but I’m hopeful.

Let me explain. Right at the start of this volume there were some things....off. A couple things, here and there. The overreaction about the Relic’s minimal attraction to Grimm being painted as Ozpin keeping secrets, the blow-up in the snow, Oscar pushing Oz out in front of Maria and everyone just pretending she wasn’t there while they went on about their big secrets (even ‘oh-so-secretive’ Ozpin just openly speaking in front of this complete stranger), the kids drawing their weapons on Qrow and Ruby making the executive decision to forcefully tear Ozpin’s secrets from him when he’d given her a perfectly understandable explanation as to why he kept them and right after they’d claimed to be trustworthy.

The narrative seemed to be pointing towards a fall from grace for Oz, and during that week while we waited for the guillotine blade to drop (among all the hate mail and the lovely Ozpin die challenge) it became clear to me that there were two things RT could do moving into episode 3.

1. They could follow the narrative that they had clearly been constructing (ie. the kids being right to not trust Ozpin) and show him doing something heinous to cause everything, proving all the antis correct and ruining a perfectly good, morally complex character for the sake of drama or-

2. They could keep to the characterization that they had painstakingly built up for Ozpin in the small amounts of screen time he’d gotten up to this point and they could paint the kids as wrong.

At the time, every single part of me hoped it was the second option. That they wouldn’t sacrifice all that Oz was for the sake of drama, much in the way that they had been doing for the past two episodes up to that point. I hoped, but I wasn’t confident.

Then, The Lost Fable dropped and I was so over the moon that I didn’t even care about the ominous note it ended on. RT had pleasantly surprised me, and my hope was restored that this would be a good volume.

Then, episode 4 came, and all that elation turned to horror, and its sort of just hovered around that point for the remainder of the volume up to this point. From the abuse of Ozpin, being completely glanced over, to the abuse of Oscar being treated the same way, my frustrations with the way these characters are acting, and how the narrative is framing it, has been causing me little more than disgust barring a few select interactions.

I’ve stated in an earlier response that I felt that the only way the narrative could be saved was if the Fall of Beacon movie poster was foreshadowing a massive Grimm attack to mirror what had happened the last time a hostile force took out the only means of defense that a large city had and scared the shit out of the residents, because that would be the consequence that our main protags desperately have been lacking this volume. That slap in the face, that this time they are the hostile force, acting unreasonably, scaring and endangering innocent people because they’ve become so blindly arrogant as to think themselves above the law and above the safety of the people, they need this.

I’m thankful that they’re getting that consequence, but now, it all comes down to how RT handles it. Everyone except Ren, Qrow, Maria and Oscar( Ozpin’s) aura has broken. Are they going to honor that? In the preview we see Ruby falsely adopting the protected title of ‘huntress’ (another display of arrogance) in order to get the Military operatives to listen to her and go in closer to the Leviathan.

Clearly, she means to try and take it out with her SEW powers, but can she with her aura broken? I feel like a lot hinges on the answer to that. If she can, the Grimm attack will have taught them nothing, they’ll all leave with the belief that they were in the right and it was fine because they ‘won.’ Not to mention of course Grimm should never be considered a threat again because if she can take that thing out with no aura then really nothing can stop her past that point.

If she can’t however, which is, if you haven’t guessed, what I’m hoping for, things could get interesting, and we’ll likely end this season in a cliffhanger. The episode is set to be around 23 minutes long, but considering its a finale, 5 of it are probably going to be intro/ credits and after-credits. That doesn’t give us much time to have a large-scale Grimm battle with everyone already injured, and then time to deal with the resulting emotions of whatever comes/ what they’ve caused.

And so, I’m back to the night before episode 3 again really.

I’m hopeful, and I want to trust that RT is planning a narrative bait-and-switch on us again (as is their specialty). I want to believe in the proper growth of the show and the main characters because despite what this volume has done to them, I still want to like team RWBY for who they have the potential to be. So much this volume has made me doubt them, and really with how things have been going it could go either way at this point.

Are we going the route of protagonist-centered morality where its fine to abuse the people close to you and launch a terrorist attack against a strained kingdom ally so long as you kill the big monster at the end? Or are we going to see another ‘fall’ and have growth from the consequences of these actions?

Will team RWBY ever recognize that they’re wrong?

Are we ever going to see Ozpin again??

I just don’t know. So, for now, I’m hopeful, but I’m not confident.

#mun #theory #headcanon #rwby #rwby volume 6 finale #rwby spoilers #rwby spoiler #Anonymous

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bucklesomeswashswan · 6 years ago

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Once Upon a December (10/10)

Summary: Emma doesn’t remember much of her past, all she knows is she needs to get out of Misthaven. The mysterious group called the Industrialists continues to gain power and control since they overthrew the royal family over a decade ago. Out of options, Emma joins forces with a conman Killian and his partner Ruby in their plot to pass her off as the lost princess of Misthaven. But as they travel together and Killian and Ruby try to teach her how to be a princess, Emma begins to uncover hidden pieces of her past. When threats start closing in around them will she choose to escape to safety or risk everything to find her family and reveal a dangerous secret that could change history forever?

Rating: M

Story content warning: some descriptions of violence, slow burn Chapter content warning: smut ahead

Part of @captainswanbigbang 2018.

One last thank you to the wonderful @prongsie whose art is magnificent and perfectly captured this story! Check out her blog for all her amazing artwork! Thank you again to my beta reader @csobsessed-21!

Final Notes: Well, this is the end. It’s so surreal. But it feels right to be ending this story on the first of December!

I cannot express how much this whole experience has made me grow as a writer and as a member of the fandom. This is the longest story I have ever completely drafted and written. There were days, even months, I didn’t think this would ever make it and see the light of day. It definitely wouldn’t have without the amazing support of the other Big Bang writers, betas, artists, and admins! I want to say a huge thank you and a huge congrats to everyone who took part this year as I sign off here.

As always thank you to everyone who has read, liked, left kudos, reblogged, commented, gushed, reached out, and enjoyed this story! You have made this experience what it was!! I love you all so much! Hopefully this chapter will be a worthy thank you and a little cherry on top for everyone who stuck it out this far!!

Thank you again from the bottom of my heart! xx Corinne

Chapter 10 : Someone Holds Me Safe and Warm

Emma spurred her horse on quicker. The road was starting to slope downward along the tall cliffs of the coast. Already she could smell the brine of the sea and feel the salty spray on the air from the crashing waves below.

She had heard stories about Capetown from the grizzled and worn sailors in the fishing village she had lived in. It was a fabled pirate stronghold nestled into a rocky bay that was plagued by mermaids. It was said that the mermaids had caused such a problem for sailors that it had greatly helped speed the transition to airships. Many shipping companies realizing their cargos were safer in the skies than navigating the bay. However Glowerhaven had not taken to the new technology like Misthaven had, and Capetown still remained an important harbor for seagoing ships.

The sun was setting into the waves on the horizon painting the sky in golds and reds when Emma started to see the lights of the town up ahead. Her hand drifted to the pocket of her coat with the slip of paper from Ruby.

Capetown was a village of closely packed houses and buildings with wooden siding, white shutters, and steeply pitched roofs. Gulls cried out from where they perched on the chimneys. The town seemed to have been influenced by centuries of profitable sea trade. There were crushed shells on the roads and walkways and the stores all seemed to be selling nets and ropes and other sailing supplies. There were signs hanging above doors advertising shipping companies and whalers. Outside most of the doors and hanging along the street were lanterns lit with flickering flames. It gave a softer light than the gas lamps she was used to in Misthaven.

Emma slid down from the saddle to lead her horse down the busy streets. Even after dark there were still people milling around, moving into the taverns and haggling over prices of crates of goods outside warehouses and shops.

She stopped a young woman on her way past. “Excuse me, can you tell me where the Swan and Anchor is?”

She pointed up the street. “You’re nearly there. It’s just up the street, closer to the docks. You’ll know it by the sign and the bright blue door. Take care there, that place is famous for a slightly unsavory crowd.”

Unsavory crowds were becoming something of a specialty for her lately.

“I’ll be fine, thank you for your help,” Emma said making her way quicker up the street.

The Swan and Anchor was a sprawling building that stretched more than half a block. It was three stories high, its face dotted with many windows and even spaced dormers rising from the slanting roof. And as described it had two wide bright blue doors thrown open to the night air and there was a group of people loitering at the entrance.

Emma led her horse around to the stable behind the boarding house.

“I’ll need a stall for the night,” Emma told the stable boy. “Give him as much water and hay as he wants.”

“Room number?” the boy asked taking the lead rope from her

“I’m not sure, I’m meeting a friend,” she said. The boy didn’t seem impressed by that answer. Emma dug into her pocket and pulled out a few silver coins and passed them to him. “Will that cover it?”

The boy stared for a moment before he hurriedly stuffed the silver into his jacket. “I’ll see to him right away, Miss,” he said leading her horse back into the rows of stalls.

Emma made her way out of the stable and followed the path around to the entrance of the boarding house. She edged between the people standing there ignoring their looks and sneers. She felt a familiar unease settle in her stomach, that feeling of not belonging. These calculating glances were different from all the stares she had endured the last few days beside her parents but they still made her feel alien. She suddenly wished she had changed into less conspicuous clothes before she left.

She followed the noise to large parlor that seemed to be used as a bar of some kind. There were groups seated at tables laid heavy with mugs of drink, coin and cards, and others grouped loosely around one of the women dressed in brightly colored dresses that hang low on their frames giving wanting eyes plenty to look at.

Emma made her way to the bar and flagged over the woman serving drinks. “I’m looking for someone staying here,” she said.

The woman popped the cap on a bottle of rum before pouring a glass for one of the patrons. “You’ll have to be more specific, we have a lot of rooms, lass.”

“His name is Killian Jones.”

The woman paused looking up at her for a moment a smile tugged at her lips. “He’s got them pretty blue eyes, yeah?” she asked.

Accurate enough. Emma nodded and the woman pointed above them. “Second floor, room 204.”

Emma left a silver piece on the bar for her help and wove her way through the other patrons to the set of stairs tucked at the back of the room. The second floor was little more than a dimly lit hallway with rows of doors leading to rooms. She paused in front of the door marked 204 feeling suddenly nervous. She had raced across Glowerhaven to stop him before he left but now she found herself hesitating. What if there was a reason he never came to see her after the ball? What if he didn’t want anything to do with her now that she was a princess?

She closed her eyes and held her breath as she lifted her hand and knocked on the door. She stepped back once it was done and waited, her pulse echoing in her ears as if she were underwater.

She heard the lock unlatch and then the door opened. Killian stood there looking less put-together than she had ever seen him. His hair was disheveled and he wasn’t wearing his leather greatcoat or a waistcoat. Instead his linen shirt hung loose over his shoulders the buttons down the front open almost to his navel. Emma glanced away at the sight.

“Emma?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” she told him.

He frowned glancing both ways up the hallway. “You shouldn’t be wandering around here alone,” he said waving her forward. “Come inside.”

She moved past him over the threshold and a few steps into the room. Her eyes took in the bed in the corner, the small desk beneath the window, the candles on the desk and bedside table, the open book laid out beside the candles as if he had put it down to answer the door.

“Why are you here, Your Highness?” he asked her once the door was closed.

She turned to face him, his tone and use of her title surprising her. She had prepared for a few different ways he might react to her chasing him down, but this formality wasn’t one of them. For a moment they stood in silence as she scrambled for what to say. She wondered if it wouldn’t be easier if he simply read her thoughts and intentions as he had so many times in the past and saved her the trouble of the speech she had practiced over and over on the ride here.

“Ruby told me you were leaving,” she said as a start.

He nodded. “How is Ruby?”

“She’s been offered a position working with my mother. She came by this afternoon.”

Killian nodded again not quite meeting her eyes. He didn’t say anything in reply. Emma could feel her frustration rising. Why was he being so distant? So cold? Was he going to react to anything she told him? Did any of it matter to him?

“She misses you,” Emma said trying a new tactic. “You’re running away from something good. Something that made you happy.”

She wasn’t even sure she was talking about Ruby anymore. The words just rushing out of her before she could stop them.

“You need each other,” she finished.

That seemed to hit its mark. Killian rounded on her. “What do you know about what I need?”

Emma faltered at his sharp tone. “You don’t need to leave,” she told him.

“I can’t stay,” he said bitterly.

Emma shook her head taking a step closer to him, a step she saw him watch carefully. “I know it’s different here, and it’s all new, but we can find a place for you. You’ll have your cut of the reward money, you’re a rich man now. You can start a new life. You could be in charge of trade or customs or whatever you want.”

He blew out a breath, his hand running over his face. “That’s just it. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want a place in your parents’ employ. I don’t want to be a Head of State or Secretary of Trade. I don’t want that.”

His words hung in the air as the silence stretched. She watched him, trying to understand.

“What do you want?” she asked softly.

He looked up with that same unreadable expression she had seen several times in his eyes. It was only now that she recognized it as longing, desire, love. “Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked her his voice hitching on her name.

He didn’t need to say the words because she did know. She had known for longer than she had allowed herself to admit. It was what she wanted too.

“Then why?” she asked him waving a hand. “Why are you running?”

“Emma,” he said her name almost like a plea, a plea for mercy. His gaze moved over her face as if he were memorizing it and she could sense him retreating from her.

His hand reached out to touch her hair where it lay against her shoulder, a familiar gesture. But she watched his eyes as his expression became an impassive mask, armor against the injury he thought was coming. He was preparing for her to break him.

“I know how the world works,” he said. “There are things that can’t be changed.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He tossed his head letting out a sound of frustration. “Come on, I’m not-,” he sighed before continuing, “I’m a criminal, a con, a forger. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things that shouldn’t be forgiven. I’d be thrown in jail, or worse, if I set foot back in Misthaven. We are from different worlds. You have your family now, a good family, a future, a purpose and a duty. You don’t need something weighing you down. And that is what I would be, a scar on your new life.”

She stared at him incredulously. She could tell he genuinely believed what he was saying, that he thought in some way he didn’t deserve her. As if someone who was so brave, who had risked everything to help her and others, and someone who had saved her life over and over could be below her. As if she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life trying to be as good as he had showed her she could be.

“So sailing off on some ship to who-knows-where is going to fix that?” she asked him.

When he didn’t answer she pressed on.

“You did what you had to do to survive, so did I, but we aren’t the people we used to be. That past is only a piece of who we are, and I will always choose to see the best in you. You’ve made me stronger, braver, kinder, and that is what we can be together. That is the future I want. The rest we will figure out as we go.”

He still looked a little uncertain, a part of him holding back. She decided to convince him the only way she had left. He was the one who was better with words anyway.

She closed the distance between them leaning up to capture his lips. He responded immediately, his arms folding her into him. It wasn’t like their first kiss, something quiet and almost shy, this was consuming and desperate. Both of them trying to keep hold of what they needed. She gripped the collar of his linen shirt as she pulled him even closer.

Heat coursed through her. The feeling of him against her was like a breath of fresh air after a week of drowning. She wanted to get lost in the moment, the feel of his fingers curled in her hair, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart under her hand. It was what she had been searching for so long, at last she had found her place, this… this felt like home.

She hadn’t realized they were moving until her back shored up against the wall and she broke from him with a small gasp.

“Killian,” she breathed looking up at him.

He looked wrecked as his eyes moved between hers.

“I love you,” he told her.

She smiled widely, her hand coming up to his cheek. “I love you, Killian.”

He let out a shaking breath in relief and he leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes fell closed as though he were savoring the moment and the words echoing between them. It was a perfect peaceful moment but she wanted more.

Her hand trailed down his torso taking hold of the fabric of his shirt. His eyes snapped open as she pulled it from where it was tucked into his waistband. He watched her with a glint in his gaze as she ran her fingers along the hem.

There was a question in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow, but there was no hesitation in the way he raised his arms to help her when she lifted his shirt off in answer.

She allowed herself a few seconds to take in the sight. When she had stitched him up on the train she had tried not to stare at him. But now she traced the lines of lean muscle under his skin, she trailed her fingers through the hair on his chest, the line down past his navel. He glanced away as her hands moved up over his shoulders and down to his hands. He tried to pull his mechanical hand from her but she gently took hold of it.

She hated the way he looked ashamed. Slowly, holding his gaze, she lifted it and pressed a kiss to the cool metal of his palm. This didn’t make him a monster, it was a symbol of how much he had sacrificed to help her, a connection to the worst night of their lives, a devotion she hoped to repay.

Emotion swelled in his eyes and he then he was kissing her again pressing her back into the wall as both his hands moved over her until at last they settled where her bodice was laced. His fingers moving quickly to loosen it. She shook her shoulders as it fell to the floor and she reached back to untie her skirt until it followed.

She stood there in only her shift and waited for the creeping nerves. She remembered all the times she had opened herself up and tried give a fraction of her heart to someone. All the mistakes and failures. But there no urge to run, no need to hide behind her walls. There was only Killian standing before her already holding all the damaged pieces of her heart.

She pulled the shift over her head and leaned back against the wall as his eyes moved hungrily over her devouring the sight.

“My princess,” he breathed reverently as he placed a chaste kiss to her lips and then moved to trace the edge of her jaw. She pushed him back an inch and he drew back at once looking up at her as if afraid she might reject him.

“I’m just Emma,” she told him taking his hand and placing it over her heart. “Right now, with you, I’m just Emma.”

He stared at his hand on her for a moment before leaning back into her.

“Emma,” he said, her name a whispered prayer as he placed a kiss at the hollow behind her ear and kissed down the column of her neck. She sucked in a breath in surprise as his teeth nipped at the soft skin there.

“Emma,” he repeated as he bent to kiss her collarbone, her shoulder. His lips leaving a path of fire in their wake. He kissed right over her heart where his hand had been and she wondered if he could feel it trying to pound its way out of her chest.

He kissed down the side of her breast dropping to his knees before her. “Emma,” he breathed again into the skin at the bottom of her ribs making her shiver.

He moved lower still marking a path down her stomach his hands tracing the curve of her hips. One hand warm and one hand cool against her, the contrasting feelings driving her wild. His nose pressed into the dip beside her hip bone. “Emma,” he murmured one more time as he kissed there too.

He looked up at her silently asking permission as he lifted her leg behind her knee and eased it over his shoulder. She couldn’t have managed words if her life had depended on it. Instead she gave him a small nod and closed her eyes tilting her head back against the wall as he moved closer pressing kisses to her inner thigh until at last he reached the place they were both waiting for.

Her hand flew to his hair as she scrambled to get some purchase to maintain her balance. He groaned against her and she thought she might implode. Fire pounded through her veins sparking off her like lightning. She was a shooting star burning as she climbed higher and higher. She clung to him as she rose until all at once every nerve drew tight, pulling in and at last shimmering bliss radiated out of her, starlight dancing behind her eyes, and pleasure like sparks ran down to her toes, to the tips of her fingers. She let out a strangled sound as she slumped down the wall.

“Killian,” she said his name a desperate sound. He caught her against his chest holding her close.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her in that ernest tone that made her heart clench in her chest. Naked and trembling in his arms after what they had just done, and it was his words and the truth in his eyes that made her blush.

He leaned forward nuzzling into her chest, his breath warm against her. But she needed more. She needed him.

She stood on slightly unsteady legs and pulled him up and over to the bed. He followed her willingly. She sank down on the edge of the mattress before running her fingers over the waistband of his trousers.

He was breathing heavily as she undid the laces and slid them down his legs her knuckles dragging over his skin until he kicked them off. She trailed her fingers back up tracing over him making his breath hitch. She loved the sound, the needy expression in his eyes. She held his gaze as she lay back stretching over the soft bedspread.

The mattress dipped as he joined her leaning down over her. She shifted her legs wider, her hands finding the back of his neck and his hip. He braced himself on his elbow as he looked down at her.

“Are you-” he hesitated.

“I need you,” she said because it was the truth in every way. She leaned up from under him, her chest pressing to his as she pulled him into a kiss.

It opened a floodgate and he held her closer, cradling her. She arched up with a gasp as he pushed into her and her body throbbed around him.

“Please,” she begged not even sure what she was pleading for. But as always he seemed to know her better than she knew herself and he started to move. She angled her hips meeting him over and over each motion a wave trying to drag her under.

She let out a needy whimper clawing at his shoulders as he quickened his pace. And then he shifted, pulling her over on top of him and she loved the feeling as she rocked over him. It was only another minute before she was falling again, pulling him over the edge with her, and she collapsed onto his chest both of them breathing heavily.

He held her tightly his face buried in her neck. She could hear him murmuring something against her but couldn’t make out the words with ecstasy still echoing in her ears. She rolled off him curling into his side and he wrapped an arm around her holding her close, his lips pressing a kiss into her hair.

She wanted to stay awake all night, just to savor it or even just to watch him sleep beside her, but already she could feel sleep pulling her under. Her body exhausted and her mind drowsy from pleasure.

She woke the next morning to the sound of ship bells ringing in the harbor before there was any hint of sun in the sky. She felt Killian tense and roll away from her.

She turned to see him sit up, his legs falling over the edge of the bed. He pushed a hand through his hair as if trying to rouse himself fully from sleep before he reached out to grab for his trousers beside the bed.

Fear washed over her. Was he going to leave her? The ship bells, was he still planning on sailing off with them?

“Stay,” she said her voice a little rough with sleep. “Killian, please.”

He looked over at her, brows pulled down in confusion. “Stay?” he asked her.

“I thought,” she glanced down at her hand on the sheets beside her, her mother’s ring on her finger, suddenly feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, the bitter twist of rejection knotting her stomach, “after last night…”

He moved closer to her, pulling one leg back beneath the sheets. “Emma, darling, I’m not leaving you,” he said reaching out to lift her chin and pull her gaze to his. “There isn’t a force in this world strong enough to pull me from your side now.”

She stared. “Then why are you getting up?” she asked.

A smile pulled at his lips. “Because the town is waking up. And your people are going to be getting worried about you.”

She shook her head. “They know where I am. And I don’t think I’m ready to leave this bed just yet.”

He bit down on his bottom lip, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Is that right?” he asked.

She nodded solemnly at him. “I think we could stay in this bed for several more hours.”

He lifted a hand to scratch at his chin. “Several more hours?” he repeated.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “At least that long.”

He gave a small bow with a sweep of his hand. “As my lady commands,” he said settling back down beside her. “Your heart’s desire, that’s all I want you to have.”

She smirked at him. “Well, actually there are a few things I desire from you.”

He clucked his tongue. “Taking advantage of your power and subjects already I see,” he said.

“I was planning on reciprocating,” she said watching as his eyes darkened with lust, “I can be a fair ruler.”

“Very magnanimous,” he complimented. “Seems you’ll be a great princess.”

She smiled sitting up and moving to straddle his hips. He looked up at her with something like wonder. His hand came to rest at her hip as she leaned down. Her hair brushed his shoulder as she paused just a breath away from his lips. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

His chuckle was cut off as she kissed him the sound turning to a growl in the back of his throat that sent a shiver through her. She didn’t resist when he rolled them, his weight settling over her and she held him close as a new day dawned around them.

#csbb #captain swan #captain swan big bang #cs ff #cs ff au #anastasia au #steampunk au #my writing #thank you for reading!#it feels weird to be ending this journey after almost a year #it has been a blast

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moonbelt · 7 years ago

Text

»whiplash | 05

↳ fake dating au | college au

⇢ pairing: chanyeol | reader

⇢ genre: slight angst + fluff + sexual themes

⇢ word count: 8.471

⇢ description: as an aspiring big-shot photographer in a slump, you’re looking for something that inspires you and unfortunately — or maybe not — it comes in the form of a guy named Chanyeol.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 [final]

There was nothing particularly fascinating about love — in your opinion. To be frank, you thought the whole experience of butterflies in your stomach, fire in your veins as you fell in love was one of the most ridiculous clichés ever created.

The idea of love, at first sight, was amusing to the say the least. Everyone wants to believe in things written between starry nights and coffee dates. But at this point in life, you'd resigned yourself to think that kind of love only existed through the confines of recorded videos and fabled literature. Why build yourself up only to have it ripped apart?

But here's the thing about preconceived ideas. There's an eighty-twenty percent chance that your preconceived conceptions are wrong.

Relationships were just another type of addiction that gradually pulled you under until you lost who you were among someone else. And it was always something you'd thought people had fallen into willingly. People claimed they wanted love and friendship, but when it came down to it, all they really wanted was to change and control each other. To have someone put them on this grand pedestal. To have a distraction from being alone so they wouldn't have to take a hard look at themselves.

In the name of love, people do stupid things and hold on to beliefs that are in every sense of the word; broken—and even hazardous to their wellbeing. You swore you wouldn't be like one of those people. You regulated your interactions with anyone you felt even an inkling of a connection with. You rationalized everything you felt to mean something smaller. You didn't rely on them for anything and that made you stronger and more ineffable.

You'd accidentally fallen in love before, and all it did was cement your theory about intimate attachments equaling weakness. You had firsthand experience of how letting down your guard bruised you more than you could handle. And you didn't — couldn't — go through that again.

And yet, all those convictions swirling in your head do nothing to stop you from standing outside the one person that threatens to dismantle all your theories front door. Here he stands right in front of you, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and — you're not sure, vulnerability?

All the oxygen in the room evaporates to somewhere you don't know as Chanyeol moves closer into your space. Well, his space if you're being technical. You're the one intruding on his turf. Did he get taller and broader since you last saw him three weeks ago? You're not sure, but his frame takes up all the air around you and your mind short circuits for a minute or two.

It grates on you that your body still reacts when you see him and that your heart still gets so excited from being in mere breadths away from him.

"In the neighborhood and thought you'd stop by and say hello?" He's the first to break this stalemate silence and you recognize the sarcasm and thinly laced anger dripping from his tone, his eyes not once straying away from yours.

"No, I came to talk to you," as a second thought you add. "If that's okay."

You understood his anger. Heck, if the situations were reversed you doubt you wouldn't be snarky and sarcastic to him as well. He pushes himself past you and slides his keys into the door, his entire demeanor closed off. "Do what you want, but you should have called first. I have stuff to do."

He pulls his front door open and angles his head behind him to look down at you, waiting for you to say something in response.

"I... I didn't think I would be here today."

Your voice falters a bit but you refuse to back down. Even though being near him makes your insides want to burn. You came here to say something and goddamit, you're not leaving until you say it. Even if he doesn't care about it anymore.

"Look, [Y/N], I don't — we shouldn't do this." He steps into his apartment and now it feels like you are divided.

You look at your surroundings. You don't want anyone to just walk out and hear the two of you, for what its worth, you still have a smidgen of pride remaining. "Can we talk inside?"

"I'm not sure there's anything we need to talk about," he crosses his hands across his chest. "You made it clear that you didn't want to see me."

You feel so small and so stupid and although you're not one to usually regret your decisions. You find yourself doing exactly that. "I'm sorry, Chanyeol." You really are but now that you're standing face to face with him, the words that you had practiced in your head have faded into nothing. And your apology sounds weaker than you thought it could be.

Chanyeol closes his eyes, breathing in for a moment and you take this time to really look at him. His hoodie is three times too big for him and his hair doesn't look like it's seen a brush in days. He doesn't look that good. Not bad or deprived...just not good. Just not how he usually he does. It's light, but the shade deeper circles under his eyes tell you that he hasn't been as well off as you had originally thought. To be frank, he looks dead-tired. He steps away from his door and motions for you to walk in.

Unlike the last time you came over, there are no stray track pants littering the floor. In fact, his apartment looks impeccably clean. And for a moment you accommodate the idea that maybe he hasn't been hanging in here more than necessary. The pit in your stomach digs harder, making a house.

Another round of uncanny silence slips above the two of you. And although you had this fire burning through you earlier to have this conversation with him, now you're not ready for what's to come. "Can I, uh, use your bathroom?"

He raises an eyebrow at that but doesn't say anything to it. "Knock yourself out."

You try not to scamper to the bathroom but you're sure it must still appear that way to him regardless. Ah, shit. You're tempted to call Sehun for an impromptu pep talk. Or better yet Kyungsoo. Sehun's great and all but you need some quick words to raise your confidence bar.

You shut the bathroom door and lean against it, hoping that the few minutes you spend here would be able to help you figure out what you needed — wanted — to say. Thoughts and emotions collide catastrophically in your head and you're afraid your nervousness would render you incoherent if you don't get a grasp on the situation soon. You lean over to the sink and click it on, dousing your face repeatedly with cold water. You pat your cheeks and will your heart and mind to still for just one moment. You can do this. You've come this far ahead already, you can't back down now.

When you return to the living room, Chanyeol is standing in front of the kitchen's island, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his attention focused solely on the notepad in front of him. He's furiously writing away and for a moment you're tempted to not disturb him.

You've seen him write a few times and no matter how many times you do, it still manages to mesmerize you all the same. You could watch him do this until the wee hours of the morning — not asking questions and never interrupting his work. You silently adore him — his intense focus and attention to emotion and details and then, out of nowhere or maybe out of somewhere really deep within you. You realize this unabated truth: that you love this man, and that it has drowned you.

Because of this, you decide that you need to use this tension stringing and knotting together in your stomach for good. So, you clear your throat and alert him to your presence.

He looks up from his work and a small but somber tilt peeks out on his lips. And a sharp pang filters through you, your fingers suddenly more jittery than before. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

You fiddle with your fingers to prevent you from biting them to all damnation. If you were any closer to him, you bet he would hear the loud gulp you take to steady yourself.

"I like you, a lot. I love talking with you, I enjoy your company. You're dedicated and smart and...although I say I hate your puns, I find it oddly very sexy. I love how you're sure of yourself and your craft. I like how you're a really good friend to me and I hate that I was coward enough not to return the favor. Chanyeol, God, Chanyeol, I..." You trail off. You feel so incredibly stupid. Christ, why do you feel so pathetic?

As perfect as that all sounded, you knew there was no way Chanyeol was just going to accept that. You catch his gaze and he sighs out. "But?"

"I didn't think you could like me back."

Your answer lights something in him because the amount of irritation that floods off of him is enormous. He laughs but it comes out as disbelieving and mocking. "And now you think I like you? Is that why you're here? Did you decide on your own about my feelings about you?"

Biting your cheek hard, you do your best to keep your spine straight. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" His fervor has dimmed but you still hear it. "I want to know why."

"Why what?" You move your eyes from the top of his head to his face.

"Why you can say all those pretty good things about me—how you like me so much, how good you think we could be together— but then didn't even attempt to do anything about us. Is it me? Is there something about me that makes everyone think they should keep me around but not too close? Like I'm some sort of medal? Why am I never enough?"

You don't know how to go about this. There's raw neediness in his voice and he truly is asking for your answer. You wish you could scream at him that he is more than enough. More than anything you'd ever been used to. More than enough. Always more than that. You can tell its something that's plagued him for days on end and if you didn't know much about Chanyeol, you wouldn't understand the underlying question.

It doesn't matter that you didn't shatter his heart like Mai did; the principle is the same. Of course, there are things that you would never be able to prevent, no matter how hard you try, but you could've prevented this. You didn't have to chip at his slowly-mending heart, you didn't have to decide about stuff all on your own.

"I thought I was doing both of us favors. I thought I was preventing everything from getting messy. I —"

He stares at you and you can't form the words anymore. There's so much swimming in his eyes— anger, vulnerability, confusion, desire. But among all that, you know you're looking at a man who has feelings for you. You aren't alone in this.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"It's not that simple."

"I didn't say it was. But rather than try to sort things out, you just packed yourself up and didn't look back."

You remain silent because you're not sure of what to say or rather, you're not sure how to say it. Frustrated by the lack of words on your part, Chanyeol maneuvers around the island countertop until he's somewhat close to you. He runs his hand through his hair once, twice and then again for good measure. "Why did you come here, [Y/N]?"

"Because I had to tell you. I couldn't leave it like that, it didn't feel —"

"So? Has this helped you? Did you need to see first-hand that I'm unhappy or something? Because this certainly hasn't helped me any." He places a hand on his forehead, tired, and is about to turn on the heel of his foot and walk off when you reach out and grip the edge of his sizes-too-big hoodie.

"Chanyeol."

He jerks his shirt away from your grip and whirls back so fast, your brain stutters from the whiplash and you barely have enough sense to move back to avoid crashing into him.

"Or did you come to fuck me? Is that what you came for?" He pulls the hoodie off his head in one swift motion, revealing the basic tee under it. "Have a repeat of the last time you were in here. I mean this is all fake, isn't it? The only real thing that happened between us was the sex, right?"

"Stop."

He doesn't. He keeps plowing. You don't even have buttons to push but he presses them all. The second button, the third, then the fifth... He keeps going, laying out all these things bare for you to hear. And even though some part of you had expected this, you can't help the closing feeling enrapturing your throat.

You interrupt his tirade. "You deserve more than I — anyone — can give you."

That wasn't an explanation for the things you've done; it was a withdrawal. But you meant it. He does deserve better. Someone who doesn't let insecurities or 'what if's' dictate their life. Someone that wants to be with him unapologetically. Someone who wasn't riddled down by plays of other people's bad choices. Someone who wasn't scared of problems that haven't even happened.

Is it so wrong to still want to be with him even though you acknowledge all these faults?

"You're absolutely right." He shuts his eyes for a moment before re-opening them. "I do deserve more. I deserve someone who wants to be with me in the way I want to be with them. And maybe it's my own fault for growing all these feelings for you when you never promised anything more than a pseudo-relationship. But you know what?"

You don't know and now you wish you had said everything you wanted to say earlier. There's no stupid right time to confess to someone. There's no way you can control something like that.

"I didn't think I was in this alone. I was foolish enough to think you were right there with me, breaking your ridiculous rule about repressing your feelings to dust."

Seconds tick on to minutes and you can feel your heart wrapped around his fist. Why did you ever buy into the stupid idea of trying not to fall in love with someone? What have you gained doing that? Yeah, sure heartbreaks are a pain in the ass and devoting yourself to someone only to have them trample on your feelings is a horrible situation. But, who says that's the only outcome? Why are you supposed to live your life being afraid of getting hurt? People — you — deserve to have that one good thing.

All putting up barriers around your heart does is make you more alone. Not alone alone, just lonely.

He motions with a tilt of his head to the door. "You should go... if you have nothing to say."

But you have a lot to say. So much in fact, that you stammer a good minute before anything useful falls from your lips. "I'm not leaving." Not again.

"[Y/N]," he says now and it's more of a plea than anything. Maybe he thinks you came all the way here to make a clean break from him? You didn't come here to tell him your feelings and then just leave. You came here to...You came here to come to terms with this feeling imploding in your chest.

"I am right here with you. I just..."

"Just what?"

"There are all these signs in my head telling me about everything that can go wrong but I also can't seem to fucking walk out that door."

He licks his lower lip and sighs. Not an exasperated sigh like all the others he's been letting out, it's more of a resigned sigh. Like it's clicking that you're not leaving here until the two of you have ironed this whole situation out. He leans back on the corner of the island counter, and the two of you have a mini stare off. Maybe he thinks you're gonna bolt out of the door the minute he blinks, you can't blame him.

"What made you think that I couldn't have feelings for you?"

First, there was that talk. The one you had the night before you cut off all contact. He'd talked about finding this wonderful person that was made for him and about the kind of love that only existed within beautiful literature. It wasn't something you'd ever associated with yourself. You and love and relationships had never been on the same page. And to be frank, you'd never even given it a chance. Never even entertained the idea. Until your walls came crashing down and the only thing that seems remotely relevant is that you don't need — you don't have to be on your own.

"I mean you're...you," you stumble around blindly. "You could have anyone you want."

A soft, if slightly incredulous yet unexpected laugh filters from his lips."You'd think I'd be able to make my own decisions at my age."

"Shut up," you mumble, averting your eyes to anywhere but him. "I'm not good with these things."

"What things?"

You don't realize he has moved from his position until he's ridiculously close to you that you can feel his body heat. Or maybe it's yours? Your chest is pounding faster than before. And you swear your bones are lighting with charged electricity. He must sense that you're not going to answer him because he doesn't waste time before adding:

"I want you. If I can have anyone I want, don't you think I should get to have you?"

"I don't want you to settle for me. I don't want you to regret any of the time you spend with me when you find someone greater."

Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows, puzzled. "Greater? Settle? [Y/N], when have I ever implied that being with you would be settling for something lesser?"

You huff out a frazzled breath, not wanting to relive that day but having to do so all the same. "You're waiting for your perfect person. I don't want to get left behind because of that."

"Oh, my," Chanyeol squints at you like he can't quite believe your thought process. "Sweetheart," he chastises and a part of you — a really minuscule one — melts.

"What?" You're not annoyed but a spike of mild irritation floods your veins.

"Just because I said that doesn't mean —" he cuts himself off. "Since you clearly didn't get what I was trying to say; lemme lay it down again." Chanyeol cocks his head to the side. "I was trying to hint at you. That I think this," he uses a hand to demonstrate between the two of you. "Is the real thing."

Hearing those words from out of his lips is like something akin to an epiphany. This chemistry that has been brewing between the two of you wasn't something you conjured up all on your own. It takes all your willpower — fortunately, that's a lot — to restrain yourself from turning into some inebriated schoolchild. However, try as you might, you can't stop the fragile smile from creaking at the corners of your mouth.

You manage to nod, barely. "But?"

"But I — we — should take it slower this time."

"Slower?" You probably sound dumb repeating what he just said but it's because you want to be sure. "That's not a thinly graced no, is it?"

He laughs at that and your body sings. "Of course not. I just think the both of us we have to sort some shit out... from scratch."

Again, you nod because you can't seem to be capable of doing anything else. Chanyeol moves away from you and finally plops down on one of the beige sofas in his admittedly big living room. He gives you a look, beckoning you over and you do as he implies. Sitting close but not too close to invade any personal space.

"The point," he strums along, "is that I get it, okay? You've never had an actual relationship before. You're thinking about all these possibilities that could happen but I don't care. And I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend right away, in fact, I'm not asking for any of that right now."

You twist your lips up at what he's saying, not quite understanding. "Then what are you asking for?"

"For a date," he says simply. "One date. Maybe two—"

A part of you bows to the heavenly power of euphoria.

"—or maybe four. Point is, I wanna keep seeing you."

You watch as he rakes a hand through his floppy-ish dark hair. Damn, he looks soft. He doesn't notice your little gawking fest because he continues on.

"I don't care when. You want to get a burger at night, cool. Early in the morning, great too. I'm willing to play by your guidelines, so long as you promise to communicate with me on things that are bothering you."

Pleasure and presentiment wage a war inside your head. "You'd really do that?"

You hold your breath when he fixes you with a firm, intense gaze. Then he wacks your chest and convictions even more by asking. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Oh fucking no.

There must be something monstrous brooding on your facial features — not that you deny it — because Chanyeol cracks up like a geezer, laughing. You believe in love, of course, you do. But love at first sight? You'd rather cough up a lung than have a belief in something as fickle as that.

"Calm down, [Y/N]. I'm not saying that I fell in love with you like that."

You don't know why the sigh that reverberates through your body is one of relief. It's not like you don't want Chanyeol to be in love with you but it's the principle of the thing. You'd rather him fall in love with you as he got to know you, not some superficial shit like love at first sight. You scoff inwardly to yourself. "Then what are you saying?"

"I'd seen you a few times around campus before that day at the beach," he admits something you had no prior knowledge of. "And yeah, I'll confess, I thought you were hot — no, beautiful — but it's not like I was desperate to find out who you were."

"Great boost of confidence, thanks."

He shakes his head at your drooling sarcasm, grinning. "Make up your mind, sweetheart. Do you want me to be ridiculously enthralled with you, or do you want me to be honest?"

You bite down on your lower lip to keep the sly smirk from painting on your lips but he notices it anyways, so you give up and let it out. "You walked into that one."

"Anyway, I'd seen you before. Multiple times, probably. But the day, when we made eye contact? When you actually spoke to me? Something extraordinary happened then," he says matter-of-factly. "And I know you felt it too."

Does he have no sense of shame? Or where you just strung too tight? Your eyebrows lift up as you scoff lightly at him. "I've never seen a guy that throws around 'love at first sight' without looking at least a little bit embarrassed."

Chanyeol shrugs, not caring, a small smile gracing his features. "What can I say? You bring out the different sides of me."

You highly doubt his statement. For whatever it's worth, you think Chanyeol to be the kind of person that has little to no shame about the things that he holds close. The tension around your stomach uncoils itself and you loosen into the sofa.

"Okay, I'll admit, I did feel something." You raise a hand and scratch the skin under your eye. "Where are you going with this?"

"I don't want you to run off again. This connection between us? I wanna explore it."

"Me too."

His eyes light up like Christmas candles and for a second you're tempted to reach out and brush the tips of his hair and before you can weigh pro's and cons of it, you push forward and do just that. When he leans into your touch though, the entirety of your insides feels content.

Chanyeol says he wants to take things slow — for your sake — but at this moment, you want everything other than slow. You want his hands on you, you want his body flushed hard against your body, you want him with every fiber of your being. No halfsies this time. You feel safe with his hands wrapped around you and by shit, you want them around you right now. But you promised to abide by these new set of rules, you're not going to rush anything. You're not going to repeat your father's mistakes, you're not —

He clears his throat and your attention flitters back to him, your ears fiery hot because you've been caught absent-mindedly thinking about him. "Kissing you isn't rushing it, is it?"

An airy giggle bubbles up from your throat. "Are you asking for permission?"

"That and I hope we're both on the same page."

You shake your head at him. "I would never mind kissing you, Channie."

Maybe it's your nickname for him, maybe it's the permission you've given him, but either way, he's kissing you before either of you can think. And it's the kind of kiss that goes from a dim kindling to an inferno in one hot second.

His tongue slides through your parted lips in a deft stroke and you gasp at the intrusion. It takes about a millisecond — you're not counting — before you're kissing him back. Tongue dancing in intricate moves with his for a few earth-spinning moments. You can't seem to get close enough. Your fingers want to pull at his clothes but you still have an inkling of rationality to push them through his hair instead.

In stark comparison to the last time you kissed him, you are positive that this time, you're not the only one. Chanyeol winds one set of his fingers behind your neck, the other cradling your face, and tilts your head to the side to deepen the kiss. Your body presses deeper into his and his large frame steadies yours as he lets out an intensified groan that zips straight to your core.

"Tell me to stay," you breathe out, barely a whisper. Your body language speaking volumes in and of itself as you try, desperately, to catch your breath.

Your on either side of his lap now, your legs spread out. Chanyeol's head rests cooly on your forehead and for one dark moment you imagine him with all his clothes off on the floor and your bodies getting closer in more ways than one.

"No."

His answer startles you into clarity and for a brief minute or two, you stare at him shocked. Did he just? You open your mouth several times before you close it again. Willing everything you have inside yourself to say something back.

"Y-you don't want me to?"

Chanyeol shakes his head, a ghost of a smile not on his lips but in his eyes. "I don't want to command you to stay. If you want to stay then stay."

Yeah, that's all well and good. "But do you want me to?"

"I'm not saying this for my own benefit. I want you to make this decision. If you want to stay here — if you want to stay with me, then, I want you to do it because you want to. Not in some roundabout way to please me."

You have no idea where this relationship is heading towards but you know that you're heart is already there with him. For such a long time, you'd believed that being alone was the answer and that you would be better off like that but now, you're not sure anymore.

Being with him is like being on a high. Not the kind of high that makes you feel bad when you hit your lowest point. It's different. It's a kind of high that pulls you up, drags you up from the ground and throws you into the sky, teaching you how to fly — maybe — along the way.

There's a door inside of you that Chanyeol is knocking on and finally, you open it. "I want to stay."

And Chanyeol doesn't slam the door shut. "I want to stay with you too."

Chanyeol keeps you to that promise of taking you out on numerous dates. You can't count with two hands how many you've been on in the last month or two or three. Point is, you're spending more time with Chanyeol than with Sehun, [he's characteristically jealous], but you don't mind it.

This time you're back on a beach. Not the same as the first one you'd gone to, instead you and Chanyeol had driven an hour and a couple more to a different one that promised clear water and bustling people. The only thing seemingly true about that statement is the people. But it's not like you could do much harm to something you found on the internet, so you let it slide.

It's supposed to be date #24, but you're not counting. He's perched on the sand, scribbling away in that leather-bound book of his and you're busy taking shots of other people that peak your interest. You like dates like this, the ones where the two of you enjoy each others company more than anything. Sometimes when his eyes catch yours, he throws a silly face your way and you make it a point to stick your tongue at him and stomp away.

Once you've decided that you've taken enough photos for the day, or maybe it's just the exhaustion finally catching up to you, you flop down on the sand beside his body. He flips his notebook shut and glances your way, a really wide smile gracing his face. And shit, you feel amazing when he smiles at you.

"Question."

He lies on his back, body incredibly close to yours. "Fire away."

"You ever heard of sporks?"

"A what now?"

You roll your eyes at him, plowing your hands through the sand and reveling in the feeling of it cascading through your fingers. "I know you heard me. Please don't make me repeat my idiocy again."

He chuckles at that. "If you don't mind me asking: what the fuck are sporks?"

Sitting up, you clear your throat, preparing to give him a lecture for a lifetime.

"They're like forks but also spoons. You've never seen one of those before? They kind of look really stupid and are really inefficient but they sound cool so..." you shrug your shoulders.

"You're trying to tell me that a bunch of stuffy old people at some big company sat down in a meeting and came up with...that?"

You nod your head, shooting him a faux-prideful smile. "That's right. One of man's many wonders."

He rolls, literally he does, across the sandy plain. His throaty laugh coming out in breaks as he clutches his sides in despair. You laugh alongside with him, albeit not as loudly, and watch him as he claps his hands like a seal. It's endearing, really.

"Question." He says a thousand minutes later when he has finally regained composure, sitting cross-legged in front of you.

"Shoot."

"Did you ever think of me as naïve?" His eyebrows furrow at his own question. "Maybe not now, but before?"

You tap your lower lip as you mull over it. Well, you wouldn't say that Chanyeol was naïve. Hopelessly optimistic, yes, but not downright naïve. But maybe that can be considered as naïveté to some degree? You have no idea but you decide to go with it.

"Maybe a little. I mean, you were talking about all that love love stuff and I was skeptical about it so, of course, it seemed like you were naïve to me."

"Great," he drowns in his own sarcasm. "How about now?"

"Uh, lets just say your hopeful optimism is one of the reasons I love you."

"So, you love me." If it's a question or a statement you don't know.

"Was this just some roundabout way to get me to say that?" You scoff at his antics, shaking your head in mock-disappointment.

He raises his hand in surrender. "What? Me? How dare you accuse me of such a thing?"

You burst out laughing at him, small — ridiculously small — tears bundle at the edges of your eyes. "I love you, Chanyeol. I thought we'd already gone through this?"

You had... Maybe a month ago? You're not that good with the semantics but one night in the fast food joint near your apartment, the two of you were having one of your impromptu get-togethers. You'd tried and succeeded in stealing a handful of his fries as he looked at his phone for a second.

He'd caught you in the act but had allowed you continue on. You smiled like you were insane and sighed out. "Man, I love you." At first, it shocked him more than it did you. You stared at the red tabletop for a good thirty seconds before Chanyeol snorted aloud and grinned at you, teeth and all. "Same, sweetheart."

For some reason, he hadn't asked you to explain anything. The two of you carried on, you with stealing his fries and him with stealthy taking out of your drink that he claimed to hate, but ended up worshiping. And for the first time, you realized that love wasn't something that came in with a bang! Yeah, sure connections happened like that. It was either there or it wasn't. But with love, it was something you couldn't hide. It brought you to life. And it was always there, whether you try to acknowledge it or not.

"We did," Chanyeol's voice brings you from the past. "But I'll never get over hearing you say it."

The insides of your stomach do flip flops and inhale dandelions. It's a beautiful feeling, to feel loved and to love someone back. Soon after that, because you and him promised to watch some new fantasy/horror movie that just came out, the two of you pack camp and head back home.

These days, you hang out more in his place than yours. Not necessarily because you want to. Sehun just seems to always have his girlfriend over and you'd rather not third-wheel if you can help it. Plus, it doesn't help that Chanyeol's apartment is super welcoming and compared to your apartment, the WiFi there is spectacular. And let's not forget, it's easier to steal his sweatshirts when you spend most of your time there anyway.

Getting home is faster than it was to go to the beach and you're surprised that neither of you are as tired as you had expected. Chanyeol is still wary of watching the horror movie though, he has this look on his face — like you kicked his puppy or something. You would never do such a thing but with the way he's looking at you, you wouldn't be able to tell.

"Relax, sweetheart," you fling the endearment haphazardly, grinning lopsidedly. "I'll protect you from the big bad murder guy."

The two of you are situated on his bed, his laptop on his lap. You're about to hit play for the film to start and Chanyeol looks like he's actively forcing himself not to scream. The movie hasn't even started yet.

"What if it's not a guy?"

You shrug. "Doesn't matter. I'll fight any monster that comes for you, sound good?"

He must figure that this is as good as it's gonna get because he nods and you immerse in the movie. He clutches your arm tight and doesn't let go but at least he keeps his eyes open. Forty minutes into the movie and you realize what a horrible mistake you've made. There's absolutely nothing great about this movie! The generic couple of college students that went somewhere with absolutely nobody for spring break, somehow end up pissing off the resident serial killer and hence have to survive.

As usual, everyone but the person that caused the whole mess dies first. You tsk at the laptop screen, highly dissatisfied with your choice of entertainment.

One of the women decides it’s a perfectly good time to go skinny dipping with the love of her life — they are supposed to be hiding from a murderer. What makes this a time to go have a sexed-up scene is beyond you.

"This bitch is stupid and now the only guy worth any common sense is gonna die."

"I thought you wanted them to die?"

"Not like this. They have to put up a fight for it to mean something. Now it's just like they want to die, you know?"

He doesn't know but he doesn't say. Even though you're not particularly loving the movie, Chanyeol seems to be enthralled by it. He seems to be the target audience the producer was aiming for. You rest your head against Chanyeol's shoulder; bored. At least one of you is enjoying it. Occasionally, Chanyeol's scream lights up the room and you laugh meekly at him while trying to subtly calm him down.

You're about ready to doze off when you hear the buzz from the front door. Someone's here. Your head jerks towards the wall-clock. It's almost 12 am. Why would someone feel the need to come over now? Chanyeol is gone with the movie and you figure you'd rather go and check who's there. Wary, you pull the covers away from your body and head to the living room.

The peephole in the door does nothing to tell you who's out there. All you can see is a maroon colored shirt, you sigh to yourself, unbolting the door and opening it slightly. Your breath hitches in your throat when you find Mai standing there. For a brief second, you're tempted to slam the door in her face.

Her expression darkens the moment her eyes find yours, her pretty face a mixture of shock, ugly jealousy and anger.

"What are you doing here?" She demands like she has some kind of right.

Man, you're tired to a Capital T with dealing with this girl.

You've never prided yourself on being the bigger person, but you see yourself doing so right now. Holding your hands to your side.

"Ha, I think the more important question is, what are you doing here? And why? It's not like you're welcome or anything."

The wrinkles in her forehead — that you hadn't noticed before — tighten. "Can you not be rude for, like, one second?"

"Not exactly," you don't see the point in fueling this jealous rivalry she has going on.

She's the one that's been playing Ms. Rude since you'd set eyes on her. You wonder where she gets her self-confidence from and if you can get it in a bottle. And then you snicker at your own thought, cracking yourself up.

Mai decides to ignore your answer. "Is Chanyeol here?"

"He's watching a movie."

She nods her head, trying to peer on her tippy toes last you. "Oh, I see. How about you?"

This time you can't stop the snicker from leaving your lips. "What about me?" You cock your head to the side. "No, Mai," you pronounce the words extra slowly to prove a point. "I am not currently watching the movie."

Intense annoyance flares through her eyes. "Can I speak with Yeol? I need to speak with him. Can I come inside?"

You gawk at her for a second, maybe more. You can't believe her. In fact, you've never understood her at all. An enigma that you have no intention of trying to figure out.

"I don't think Chanyeol would like you coming inside his apartment unannounced. Why don't you try calling him and stop by some other time?"

Chanyeol's ex rolls her eyes as she twists her lips into an ugly frown. "He doesn't answer my calls. You think I would be here if he picked up?"

Well, you don't know.

"I think you should go."

"Look, I need to talk with him."

She emphasizes the need part so eloquently that you have the urge to ask. "Why?"

Mai doesn't like to be questioned apparently, because she scowls even harder. "That's none of your business, __."

Classic Mai, fucking up your name for some type of dominance quest.

"It's [Y/N]," you force out in a pseudo airy voice. "Which I know you know. And you know what?"

She doesn't move a muscle to interrupt so you press on, sneering at her. "I know you're trying to make me feel like I'm having your leftovers or something by purposely messing my name up every goddamn time you see me, but it's not working. You can call me whatever the heck you want and it won't change the fact that I'm Chanyeol's girlfriend."

And you know, you shouldn't be egging her on. It's only going to bite you in the ass later on but by fuck, you can't stop. The sight of this woman—this woman who had the most beautiful man [in and out] in the whole world and then proceeded to cheat on him with some low life sets you on fire. You can't shut up and frankly, you don't even want to.

You push the door open a little bit wider. "He loved you. He's been keeping the truth about you from his mom for months. His entire family thinks he cast you aside when in reality, you're the one that shattered his heart. You're the one that made him feel like he'd never be enough. He didn't tell Yixing, your best friend, what you truly did. Everyone thinks you're some kind of victim, bullshit."

It's a small tick but you see a part of herself cringe back at your words.

"But you don't deserve it," you tell her. "And you don't deserve anything with Chanyeol. You're here to apologize, right? To try and win his forgiveness so he never talks to his parents and Yixing about it, right? You don't want anyone to think of you as a monster, even if you know you are one."

This time she has the decency to feel embarrassed or maybe humiliated. You can't be bothered to look for the difference. It doesn't matter to you either way.

"B-but I love him," she says, and for what it's worth, some hidden part of you hears her.

You're sure your mother loved your dad. Or at least, at some point she did. But humans have to be held accountable for their actions. If only everything could be forgotten. If only. But people's hearts don't deserve to be trampled on like that. They don't deserve to have their trust severed by someone they would've given all their days for. And you'd be tenfold stupid to ever agree with ideals like that.

"Do you realize how unfair your love is?" There's a sharpness to your voice you don't recognize.

Mai is stunned into silence and you bite your lower lip, contemplating if you should go on. And maybe it's the look in her eyes that says she's not ready to give up that makes you add your next sentences.

"I won't stand for you weaseling your way to him only to break him again. I'll tell him you came by but honestly, if he asks for my opinion on the matter, I'll tell him you're not worth any of his time."

"[Y/N]," she pleads. There's a huge desperation swimming in both her voice and eyes.

"You hurt Chanyeol. I'm not letting you hurt him again. So you can go back home. Pick up your phone and call him because I'm not letting you into his apartment."

"Or don't at all."

His throaty voice grips you and has you whirling around, startled. Even Mai looks shocked beyond compare. He pushes forward and looks down at Mai directly and she cowers a little bit. He sighs out, running a hand through his spazzed hair.

"Look, Mai. You exhaust me. If someone ignores your phone calls, the general consensus is that they don't want to talk to you, isn't that correct?"

She doesn't nod but you're certain that if she could, she would've. But instead, you answer in her stead. "That's right."

"Exactly," he smirks at you through your haze before turning back to his ex. "I really don't want to talk with you. Every time we do, I get drained of all my happiness and end up hating you even more. You already made your decision and I've made mine."

Moments pass with the three of you standing like that, not doing anything. And you think maybe Mai has become incapable of using her words. You clear your throat and two pairs of eyes flicker onto your frame.

"And that's that. Drive safely," your voice has softened but you're sure she can hear the finality in it.

You don't know what she does next because before she can do or say anything, you're closing the door in her face. Happy to finally not be looking into her eyes. Ah, you hate this ex business. You never know how Chanyeol would feel about you crossing over this line. You never talk about Mai with him and you don't want to start now. But maybe it's good he knows? What if she comes back again and—

"You know, I've never had someone defend me like that."

"Must be dating the wrong people."

He chuckles and this is the first time you've seen him not get emotionally down after seeing Mai. And God, if it doesn't feel good. You reach forward and wrap your hands around him, drowning in the smell of him and the rigid feel of him.

"Yeah," he laughs out. "Must be."

You grin into his shirt. "How much did you hear?"

"Almost all of it. Can't believe you adore me this much, [Y/N]." His hands close tighter around your torso and you breathe out deeply.

"Yeah well, you would've done the same."

Feeling him nod, your ears heat up and you pull back from his body in hopes that he doesn't notice it but he does and his smile looks like it could carve heaven right in your chest. He reaches down and traces his fingers across your cheek.

"More likely than not. I mean, I do love you."

He cups your cheek and you lean into it. You have Chanyeol. Not for a halftime. Not just parts of him. Not the good parts that he just wants to show you. You have all of him. Everything. The character flaws, the greatness — everything.

Relationships had always seemed like a type of addiction that people had fallen into willingly but now, with this guy that made you want to glide across the earth with him. You realize that you will gladly allow it drag you down and consume you, especially because he's right by your side. He had waited for you and now, you waited for him. It's about opening yourself up to one another, imperfections and all, trying to find a half that fits with you.

It's a craving for something deeper. Something the words in Chanyeol's book or the pictures you take can't depict. It's something you feel and only then can you truly understand why it's important to not be so alone.

"I love you," Chanyeol pecks the tip of your nose and then the side of your mouth. "I love you," he says again, this time obnoxiously. He grabs your face between both of his palms and continues the process everywhere else.

You try to squirm from his lips. "Oh my gosh, stop!" But when he doesn't, you drag your body away from him — a huge feat in and of itself — and run as fast your legs can carry you back to the solace of his room and slam the door closed, leaning against it.

"Hey! Open up! I'm trying to love my girlfriend here!" He shouts, cackling, as he pounds mockingly on the door.

"Shut up! I'm not opening this door unless you promise to not slobber all over my face."

"How can I promise something so—"

You kick the door with the side of your foot as a warning and he backtracks.

"Of course, I'll stop. I'll swear." He chants tauntingly but you pull the door open anyways.

Not expecting him to push the door open so fast, you practically jump back until the heel of your foot feels the edge of the bed. You wag your finger at him with as much fervor as you can muster. "Don't do it."

But he does it. And suddenly your back is on his bed, his face inches from yours, his body hovering above yours and your breaths mangling into each other. He doesn't move any closer, so you do the honors of pushing up on your elbows and planting your lips on his. It's intoxicating and has you giggling in minutes. He abides with your demands quickly, not wasting time in tangling his tongue with yours.

"Love you," he pulls away from your lips and proceeds to kiss all over your face but this time you're smiling uncontrollably.

"Say it again."

He does and how your body sings. And then another realization dawns on you. If love was a competition, you're learning a lot from him. You don't need Chanyeol. Christ, no. You want him. You want him so much that it consumes you and fuels you up. He's teaching you that you don't have to walk through fire to prove you want him or love him and there's no need to be so nervous about the things you don't know.

This is foreign territory, sure, but he's showing you the ropes. And with the way he's looking at you, you can't exactly complain. He uses a hand to raise the end of your — his — shirt up and his lips placate themselves on the most sensitive points of your stomach.

Yeah, he's definitely on a mission to show you all the affection you've been missing. One touch on your heart at a time.

a/n; this is the end of whiplash!! i really hope you enjoyed it and please send me feedback or anything you liked from it :)) thank you so very much for reading! and please do tell me if you liked this!! im happy you stayed with me >.<

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restlessmuseum · 6 years ago

Text

nomen amen (or “paraphernalia”: back by popular demand)

(where books compete for space with pottery)

We were already halfway through interminability. Away all redundancy of deficiency from the page, the tear from the past to mend us about to rampage. This far we had not said anything good but perfection required, in tone and content, inexplicable. (1) I found the crux in the posture to device, like an impostor happens in his tender, (2) a damage done like the wrapping paper of a ducked present. (3) Under the stance of unison, the shallower I read between the lines the further I'm improved from the time of my oversight, (4) the unison becomes the sound she phews down to my very being, like but the rest I forgot about... Sorry, got it wrong. Actually, I wanted to continue this something started spreads ago, but the prose screeches and cackles around its ineliminable inexactitude. I really don't feel like resuming anymore, or should I say, I'm done boggedly running after the end of my premises. Yes something happened, something to investigate in a whole other direction. So, gonna take all, this will be the first part. I wish I could express revolutionary philosophisms, I thought I could be a poet because I'm unable to be an essayist and a novelist. I'm not good at public speaking. I entered Tumblr to be found by publishers and make money: I had a system of truths and truly nothing else to say. Besides, what did this idea of klein Lebensdarbietung mean? Is the text doing its characters or are these ones setting out their own words? Text's abolition of today, which is nothing but "the sentences already written, the sentences that people say, the sentences yet to write; verses, words, spacings, texts' dissemination, whatever you want, about the purely sign-linguistic-textual" (cit.) verbatim et literatim, and here is another example of my strugglings to go on properly. In any event it is clear that we are moved when required, except the exempts. (5) It is always the most unexpected time to undergo the aha entanglement. In constant foresight I guiltily prepare to hindsee the neglect and with confambulatory prowess I succumb to the development in this underpass of construes. How much do we match with our sounds? — asking myself. In this respect I'm afraid to surprise me onstage like the surrenedered one (and here onpage, ah foolishness, as playwright). But if I leaf compulsively through hundreds of pages, that's to find my words not belonging to me, and the others to fight (me) with. As I am nearing the open conversation, I make up my mind never to read me. Tons of notes, reproaches and scratchpads. Tons of work to do. And I have to get rid of the old adjustments once and for all. (6) Electra the yet-signed. You like the simple words, the ones you recognize already written, the crystalline syllabification that enoculates the wholeness of an order babbling sibyllinity downstream. You carry on with the work of literature: how the body absconds at the risk of space and time with them. Imperfect doubling, mirror images, and repetition in her practice. Topical scratches. Interceptors sought in everyday life — like unspeakables — that she then distorts to create the straight path in reverse. Poetry will not touch her, because poetry is just the unwritten complexity going wrong side along the process of self-becoming, a recent installation, midway between marble and corporal desires in an ascending scale of hardness. (7) Listening to the closest friends, the process of self-becoming could only linger primarily in the sight of aesthetic, then morality, then religious status quo. But friends come always as a closer, blind alley, at the end of tears: a misunderstanding at first, then never read enough. (8) It is often the case that the practice of consensually agreeing to one's own mental performance and self-image by means of meddled languages and lineages may become a genuine bondage of freedom. The restrained partner can derive any drift in the set of possibilities so that we use to say the doing is more important than the outcome. (9) The doing is in uncomfortable or painful positions, for example as a punishment: then, easily it tends to be forgotten, because unforgivable. That's why the effect is the same as a verbal collage, but 1) rips are often behind schedule or on borrowed time, "out of sync with the fade" (cit.) hearth of what seems to be the Pentecostal tongues of fire; and 2) metaphors like "the rope of telephone charades" or "the coils of something wound in the form of a revolution to come is the licking of sugar injury, met since the starting point" are not allowed. "Real me is way more concerned with" (cit.) the Transcaspian line that follows the pattern of a crosswording of the desert. (10) Rather than holding on to me tight I choose to distance myself from what I'm being forced to watch daily. Dies irae dies illa desirable. Without prejudice to this last inescapable point, the first issue represents the Derridean crux of the matter, about which I will be saying something bad in the wrongest moments, since my voice is as effective as my unsuccessful rewrites. I just want, by using the instruction books, the border of this drama, accelerated and hence trespassed in time into ridiculousness, to be experienced as the comedy it is. There is a hour of the wolf and there is a hour the wolf is afraid of. When the time is right I'd like you all to be safe to be spared in my turn from this construction beyond good and better. (11) Here you shine white with noise. "Sonorous cobweb" (cit.) made of only one thread, the unbent line of homeostasis at long last kept in crisis. (12) This narration should have had a different common thread. "And yet", imprint, "it moves" (cit.) as sensible prose. Prose of proses. The dispelled thing, spilled on Tumblr, disseminated. The seedbed: descendants, everspring off, family. The planting postdisposed. All going as planned. (13) When I know that I don't know where to start a carving, I start a list of synonyms or unyoke a fable from a series of rereadings. What excommunication if you can't subvert the strainer? (14) Once upon a time Electra, beloved only sign of her father, has a brother. Agamemnon possesses the actuality and practicality of the dead: he wants to see water circulate water in laminar rheumatology and freshness sculptures out of tempered air. [director's note: the Argolis' scene isn't even entitled to melt!]. She eats anise candies and unwarmed foods without a problem. She is so lovely when she urinates first thing in the morning, holding the head in her hands, graeaean ownership. Yes, I'm worthy of attending to the offertory on the altar of love. So many congratulations against my behalf that the opposite seems true. (15) "A woman with long hair is not a simple point of view" (cit.). She's got a prompt night's sleep and reasonable. We cling to angelic accidents. We are clung to our soundtrack. (16) Indeed love is not "the panic subsidence onto the body" (cit.) [director's note: can we let the body become finally soaked in real pornography and never mind, here?] but sheer faith for a symbolic subject who's shattered fully loyal. Intermediate sprint of a life midpoint crossroads that lead at the same destination to flee from. (17) Because, as it goes, her staple is such a volitive confidence meaning to me the wait of the powers that created us, the coincidence of both of us makes our skewness on my side of the derangement. Averted word, when addressed. I am a bad Greek at the time of Christianity and a bad Christian on such dysfunctional divertissements. Who knows how ethically important it is today? I retain it, ending up forgetting everything else, and am lookin' very bad. (18) Of course the movement is diminished in certain directions; the style more flattened upon my chosen sickness that we now have no use for, after the setting of the starting stances; I suffer from more severe erections. An acquired kurtosis distributes my monodimensional remarks as the fourth cumulants in order of precedence. Still a lot of exercise to get. Busy like the evermentioned forgettables I'm at that stage where it's difficult for me to even do difficult things. Wrongstaged, I can't compete. I only challenge. (19) Therefore coincident like the two norths of which one is sinking liminal in the perfectly unsaid of your perfect cues. In one fell swoop you pone the part and mastery. And in the next. And the apnea for the answer back. Teeth gouged by the opposite of words in formation for a smile. The winky face par excellence. Here's the real spectator of my vocalized character. I wedge the self with a puny malapropistic idioticon to spread now that I'm a simplex person. As long as I continue to improve in (furtive, it has to be) apprenticeship I'm losing abilities. Old mistakes reappear, no inspiration from mumpsimuses. (20) Where adults flutter, she, disemvowelled and free from frills, spoken by the plural to be inscribed in the Sophoclean, in the Euripidean, in the Hofmannsthalean, in the Yourcenarian script, lost in tv shows and blatant phone calls, is, for me, abused of notations but who am I to denounce such an effusive happiness? There's nothing she can't Netflix. (21) No banana peel on the slope of her singularity — reversible up to a point, interchangeable up to a point, genderbending up to a point from the same side of view. Slotting minims in the same tone as the main characters. That the same out-of-turness is imbricated. (22)

Virtuosity was painlessly flaying the secret from the kids. This is tragedy. We all know what everyone should have said, sorrows come only after. We see each other for sure and too well. Find your trace in the deep of your prompter's heart. Dimmable glow of ancient times. Under guillotine percentages, under curtain at half-mast, under the veils in the dance of the seven veils. What am I trying to say? (23)

In the floodlights' gloom, without changing the rules of the game, exit khorós. With whom would you listen to you speaking? (24) Woods of brightness wherever, it makes me want to expect your coming deaf-handed right therever, the braindomed untrodden order of phrases where roommouths around it are opening. (25) A substratum, but rather as two shadows they finally vest themselves without amendment, and just drag on this semi-detached ward where it just doesn't feel like our theater anymore. So that there may well be the laetum and lethean occurrence of a new polarization. (26) It is no coincidence that here you're always cold and pale. What a cutie! (27) But maybe that's just too much information. Now would be the time to shut up even more. Already being in the manner for that: being at one with the template versus falling back into the patient subjectivity to agency, to make war and to make love with the weapons of the unconditional surrender. The book is that inferring the timbre of each Klagesprache. (28) Like the current situation could return to equilibrium because of an indefinite vocabulary which is still fighting us pressurers. We come across the unilaterality of it every day. Its constitution. (29) But infinity alive doesn't exist. We can approximate it in the endless rummaging and musing. (30) Approximation is worth nothing. We get sick for the words that once beguiled us. The limits of infancy don't set. And now I just -ess the world in voluntary silence nonexperienced. (31) With plex I brux my certainty and centuries. Party time abounds. (32) Clause: applause. (33)

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hellv1ra · 7 years ago

Text

Written in the stars

Chapter 3

Previous: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Parings: Alpha!Reader x Beta!Fandral, Alpha!Loki x Omega!Sigyn, Alpha!Bucky x Omega!OFC(Jasmine Flowers)

Summary: Post coital wake ups, things get a little steamy with reader and Fandral, Loki and Thor are little shits to their sister, we finally get some Stevie.

Warnings: ABO Dynamics, Things get a lil steamy and

Word Count: 2429

A/N: This is kind of a filler chapter. Sowwy. and thank you to everyone who has read this i appreciate it.

YN woke to the one of her servants quietly moving about her chambers, Fandral was wrapped around her, his face buried in her neck. She slipped gently out of his embrace and sat up in bed and stretched languidly.

“Please forgive me if I woke you your highness.” She said bowing her head.

“You didn’t wake me, could you fetch me my robe please?” The girl nodded and rushed off to retrieve her robe. YN quietly crawled to the foot of her bed and stretched her arching her back working the muscle fatigue from the previous night’s activities. She and Fandral had parted ways with their playmates after a quick nap and another round of pleasure in the earlier hours of the morning as the sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon.

“You truly are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld” Fandral said sitting up as he admired her form. YN glanced at Fandral over her shoulder, batted her eyelashes and blew him a kiss. Her servant reentered the room carrying her long black silk robe. she held out the robe to slip it over YN’s shoulders. “No, no, no that won’t be necessary” Fandral said quickly crawling down the bed and pulling YN from behind back on the bed. “You can leave the robe.” The servant giggled and placed it over a chaise not far from the bed. She quickly exited the chamber, knowing the history between the two lovers and that her presence would not be required for the time being.

“Fandral!” YN squealed as he pulled her into his embrace. He turned YN, so she was sitting sideways in his lap. His large muscular thighs embracing her backside, creating the perfect seat. “Excuse me sir, but I have to dress so I can breakfast with my family. I’m supposed to leave with Thor to Midgard in a few days and we have to discuss the journey.” YN whined leaning into his broad, well-muscled chest.

“Even more reason to laze about in bed with me while I worship you, my beautiful goddess. Who knows when I shall have you in my arms again.” Fandral said running his lips up her neck before catching the lobe of her ear in his mouth sucking the soft flesh into his mouth. YN squirmed in his lap, heat pooling deep in her belly. Fandral began leaning her back licking his way back down her neck.

“Fandral” YN moaned running her fingers through his hair. She pulled him from her neck and brought his mouth to hers, the kiss turned rough and passionate Fandral growled as she pulled his hair roughly. Fandral broke apart the kiss and moaned loudly. YN smiled knowingly at him as she ground her backside into his hardening member. Fandral growled nipping at her neck and running his hands to cup her breast and thigh.

“Yes Princess?” He asked massaging the soft flesh of her thigh.

“Take me to Valhalla”

A few hours later YN had finally convinced Fandral to take his leave, with the promise that she would miss him terribly while she’s gone, and had barely managed to get cleaned up and dressed in time for dinner with her family.

“Well look who decided to grace us with her presence” Loki smirked at his sister as she took her seat across from him and next to Thor.

“Hush, you” YN said yawned as a servant filled her glass with wine.

“Fandral wear you out sister?” Thor asked raising his own for a refill.

“I wouldn’t say that, I just had a very, very long night with a lot of playmates who needed my attention.” She smirked taking a large sip from her glass

“Well, to be fair you had Fandral to help. I don’t require the assistance of another to bring screams of delight from my chamber” Thor smirked

“Such a pity, dear sister I thought you’d have more prowess than that? those rumors of insatiable delight must be fables then?” Loki smirked darkly from behind his own glass.

“Wha-” YN sputtered “Excuse me! I did NOT need his help! In case you’d forgotten Thor, I’d he was one who required my attention as well. I don’t see you taking both men and women into your bed do I brother?” She put her glass back down on the table “And you can shut your trap Loki, you’re mated now so you have no room to talk about what goes on in an unmated Alphas chamber.”

“She’s so defensive brother.” Thor pointed at his sister.

“Agreed, I dare say we must have struck a nerve?” Loki suggested and smiled antagonistically at his sister. The brothers occasionally took delight on tormenting their older sister, they couldn’t help it, it had been going on for so long it was like second nature to them.

“Why are you two ganging up on me?” YN crossed her arms indignantly and turned away from them.

Both brothers burst out laughing and quickly quieted as their mother and Loki’s wife entered the dining room.

“Now what has my sons laughing so hard at their sister?” Frigga asked sitting at the head of the table, Sigyn took the seat next Loki. Thor cleared his throat and began inspecting his finger nails. Loki quickly brought his wine glass to his mouth and began staring intently at the ceiling.

Eyeing both of her sons suspiciously “Thor?” she asked looking to her left. “Loki?”. Both sons refusing to make eye contact with their mother. Sigyn turned to the side and back handed Loki in the chest. Thor covered his mouth and nose with his fist and snorted as Loki rubbed the spot that his wife hit.

“Your mother asked you a question husband” Sigyn demanded from her husband.

“Yes, brothers do tell our mother what is so funny.” YN hissed.

Thor then made an enormous misstep, he looked into their mother’s eyes and folded like a cheap suit under her intense stare.

“Loki started it” he accused pointing at his brother.

“Traitor!” Loki bellowed standing from his chair “You’re the one who suggested she was lacking in the bed chamber!”

Both were now standing and accusing one another of being at fault. Failing to notice the smirk on their sister’s face and their mother trying to hold in her laughter. As the brothers continued blaming the other at the women at the table could no longer contain their laughter.

“Enough!” Frigga yelled winking at her daughter trying to control her laughter “Apologize to your sister.”

“Sorry” both men muttered as they sat back into their chairs. Sigyn scooted closer Loki and ran her fingers through his hair. He grabbed her hand bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss to her delicate knuckles.

Servants began entering the room places various dishes around the table for the family to dine on. The family settled in the meal conversing at the previous nights festivities, omitting the events occurring in the sibling’s bed chambers of course because their mother did not need to hear that. Laughter was shared amongst them as dishes were cleared and wine glasses filled. The discussion turned to Thor and YN’s coming excursion to Midgard.

“When do you plan to leave for Midgard?” Loki asked relaxing into his chair.

“I’d like to leave tomorrow, but since YN is coming id like to be able to give her more time to prepare for her departure.” Thor said raising his glass to his lips.

“I can be ready to leave tomorrow” YN said eagerly “Hel, I’d leave this evening if we could. I haven’t left Asgard in over a thousand years.”

“Then its settled, we leave on the morrow.” Thor said slamming his fist on the table. Accidently cracking it down the middle.

“Not another one, Thor! How many of these must we replace in my life time?” Frigga exasperated at her son.

“Sorry Mother!” His sheepish smile earning him quick forgiveness from their mother.

A shiver of anticipation ran down YN’s spine, things were finally beginning to feel like they were looking up.

Steve sighed as he rolled over to glance at the clock on his nightstand. 2:00 it mocked him. For the last few nights he hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. His instincts have been going haywire, not necessarily a sense of foreboding, but something was going on that he couldn’t quite out his finger on and it was driving him crazy.

Running his palm down his face Steve flipped the sheets from his body and got out of his bed to stretch. He headed for the bathroom, scratching at his stomach he caught his reflection in the mirror and stopped to inspect himself. Sometimes he still struggled with the reflection in the mirror, not because he didn’t like what he saw but that it was still hard to believe that he had physically changed so drastically from the man he was before.

It doesn’t change what you really are, “Or were” he said aloud. Steve tried not to think about it too often, but sometimes the loneliness felt almost unbearable. Not that he was alone, he was never alone. Always surrounded by his friends and team mates. He was however alone he had no mate. He had hoped that Peggy was the one for him but, the serum had quashed any hopes of that. His true nature needed to be suppressed, no one could know, it would have been too dangerous. The only people who knew were dead, except Bucky, and thankfully he remembered and that it was a secret.

“It’s for your safety Stevie” his mother used to say. She told him that he had to hide his nature, it would have made him an even bigger target than he had been for being as small as he was. His mother had told people that he had been born a small and sickly Beta, and with his myriad of health problems no one ever questioned the validity of her claims. The only reason Bucky even knew about it was that he had caught Steve in a weak moment after his Mom died and he’d spilled his guts.

“Well that explains so much about you, and why I feel the need to protect your ass all the time Punk” Steve smiled at the memory as he finished his business in the bathroom. He got dressed and headed out to the kitchen to see about making some warm milk to try and fall asleep again.

“Bucky, you’re so bad” he heard a quiet giggle coming from the kitchen as he walked in. He saw Bucky with his plump little omega wrapped in his arms. Steve couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, he wished that he could find someone that was perfect for him the way Bucky had.

“Heya punk!” Bucky’s voice cut through Steve’s musings.

“Taking a break from your rut jerk?” Steve asked as he went to the fridge in search of milk.

“Yeah, I mean I can’t have my best girl croaking on me because I can’t keep in in my pants for ten minutes.” Bucky laughed as he kissed her forehead.

“Oh please” she said squirming her way from his grasp “He’s the old fart who can’t keep up.”

“Oh, that’s the way its gonna be Jazz? You gonna do me dirty like that?” Bucky asked crouching his frame lower like he was gonna pounce.

The little omega squealed, grabbing their snacks and bounded off towards their room.

“You better run missy, I’ll be taking out of your hide later” he called after her. Steve smiled and sighed sadly at their interaction. “Alright punk, what’s eating you?” Bucky asked tilting his head at his friend.

“It’s nothing Buck, I’m just really happy for you” he said settling pouring himself a mug of milk and putting it into the microwave. “It’s just I can’t help but feel a little jealous you know, I wish I could have that you know.”

“Well, its not like you can’t man. There are plenty of willing omegas and betas, and VERY willing alphas if they knew the truth. You just have to be open to the idea of it.” He smartly advised his best friend.

“It’s not like I haven’t tried, I mean look at Sharon. She’s a beautiful beta, smart and skilled, and completely fucking wrong for me man. It’s just nothing feels right you know, like even as much as I loved Peggy even after the serum it just never felt right. As good as this serum has been, it’s like the thing that is fundamentally who I am is gone.” Steve leaned against the counter, the sadness in his eyes unmistakable.

“Well, do you think that the suppressants you’ve been on for the last 85 years might have something to do with how you’re feeling?”

“Buck, I haven’t been on suppressants since June 21st ,1943.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped, and just stared. His mouth opening and closing like a fish. “How, why- How?!” he stuttered. “Does anyone else know? Besides me that you’re an omega?”

“No!” he hushed “and keep your voice down damnit. I don’t want anyone else to know?”

“Why not? It’s not like it was when we were kids Steve, there are a lot more Omega males now.”

“I’m not, at least I don’t think I am anymore. I think the serum made my body into a beta. My brain still feels like an omega, like its instincts are still to respond like an omega would, but my body doesn’t match up anymore. I feel I’m in the wrong body Buck.” Steve’s voice hitched up higher and tears formed in his eyes. It was a rare moment of weakness for Steve, who was usually annoyingly calm and collected.

Bucky wrapped his arm around his best friend’s shoulders “Stevie, you gotta see a doctor about it then, at the very least talk with Bruce about it. He’s not gonna tell anyone about your nature and he might actually have an idea about what’s going on with you.” Steve nodded his head and embraced his friend.

“Alright man” he said pulling away “Get back to your woman, before she comes out here and reams both of us”. Bucky chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder one last time before heading off to his room.

I grabbed my milk from the microwave and headed off to my own room in search of a few more hours of sleep.

#Alpha!Reader x Beta!Fandral #Alpha!Loki x Omega!Sigyn #Alpha!Bucky x Omega!OFC #Language!#ABO Dynamics #a/b/o dynamics

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bangtan-spells · 7 years ago

Text

Taehyung Scenario: Steel Hearts - Part 4.

Request: can you please make a part 2 for the taehyung robot scenario??? (:

Genre: Fluff / Drama.

Part 1 / 2 / 3

You were on your way to the fabric that had made him. After he was hit the traffic had stopped, the world had stopped. You had crouched on the floor seeing Taehyung unresponsive, the first thing you had thought was about going to the hospital and then you remembered, he wasn’t human, a robot. You doubted your heart would be beating this fast of fear of losing a belonging of yours, you had to help him, the sobs were coming to you and the impotence of not knowing what to do and then you recalled the logo on that giant box, you remembered the company that produced robots like Taehyung so you decided that was the best option.

Now you had his head on your legs while the taxi driver went as fast as he could to the address you had searched in google just seconds ago.

-Shouldn’t you get your boyfriend to the hospital?-

You didn’t answer, looking down at Taehyung’s face. He had some dirt from the asphalt and at first glance he didn’t look hurt, but you had noticed one of his arms felt too fable as if it was about to fall off, his ribcage also felt odd, like there was hole. You hoped you could do something for him. You stared at him while the car speeded through traffic, such beauty, his tan skin was very smooth to the touch, it felt real like yours felt, he had long eyelashes and a rather wide mouth. The thought of him not opening his eyes again came and you was gasped softly, that couldn’t happen, surely there was a way to fix him.

The staff at the company was beyond surprised when they saw you coming. You couldn’t carry Taehyung by yourself as he weighed a lot, so you were half dragging him until the doorman went to assist you.

-Is he…?- the woman at the front desk asked and you nodded.

-My parents bought him from this company, I don’t have his papers with me but… he was hit by car and I…-

The woman nodded and made call and just two minutes after came two men with a stretcher. You were apprehensive of letting him go, so you followed them through the facility until you reached a restricted area and they stopped you.

-We will take care of him miss- one of them assured. -We are the engineers in charge, we will see what we can do-

You nodded watching them taking away. Now you had to wait.

At first you went to the main lobby again where the woman offered you water and tea. You took a cup of water and sat there with phone in hand wondering if you should call your parents or not, maybe this took money, or maybe he had a guarantee. It was odd to think it that way taking in consideration all the feelings that went through you at the moment. The woman went away you guessed to the bathroom and you started looking around. The facility of the company looked very neat, clean, everything you would expect from a high end robot fabric. The technology in here must be out of the reach for most people and that was a bit scary.

Incapable of staying still you kept wandering around, the hallways were way loner than you’d have expected, or maybe they just didn’t have much to do in this floor. You saw more offices than anything else and you had to remind yourself you were at a company and not at a hospital since your mind played tricks and for seconds you thought you were in the former. It was so surreal how robots could be so incredibly human, how Taehyung felt in your life.

The odd feeling made you want to stay busy so you went on, finding that the hallway spread yet again in another lobby wider than the previous one, maybe the woman was wondering where you were, maybe she was watching you from the cameras, but you didn’t go back. Instead you went on into the building, everything was in light colors, a lot of white and silver with touches of green and bright blue here and there. There were booths of information and exhibition scattered around with flyers and publicity about events and conferences, in others you saw advertised robots. You were afraid to go in there and see they had another Taehyung for the sell. You didn’t want to think of anyone else having him, just knowing he was a belonging was enough to do weird things to your mind, you felt guilty, like it was wrong.

Then you saw something that truly grabbed your attention as it made your heart beat faster, it was almost a separated area, this exhibition was hidden from the others and yet at the same time it stood out the most, even more when you identified the model of the robot that was being promoted. Even without a picture you knew it was of him.

You will feel like they are human

Another member of the family

Realism taken to the next level

You walked closer and started seeing all the information scattered around the section, he was made of a really light weight steel, to prolongue durability but also not make the robot seem a machine. You swallowed hard and kept reading, praying that he could be good again. You grabbed another panphtel, really informative with pictures and photos, full in detail of this kind of robot. He was full of ultra small sensors that not only acted as nerves making him sensible to sudden changes, but they also captured information to adapt to his owner and environment.

The robot can know if its cold to offer its owner a jacket, the robot can know if its too hot, or if there’s smoke to prevent a fire. This robot can save your life.

You went on eyeing the pages, reading about all this smart high technology that seemed impossible, but that was all included in him, in Taehyung.

His brain has it all, the high performance of a machine combined with the sensibility of a human being.

It was interesting reading, it helped you understand how was it that he could do so many things. You skipped some pages until you reached a section that in any other situation you would have not read, but that this time you devoured in minutes.

Human Procedures, Approvals and Permits.

The first two or three pages were articles of laws, contract clauses and attachments. At first some of it didn’t make any sense, information of people, signatures, more information, and then you saw it, an attached letter of consent, signed by someone named M. Han that resigned rights and approved of a procedure made to her son. Han Hankyung. There was a statement of death, Han Hankyung had died in a crash accident. You went on reading feeling your stomach turn and your heart beat increase, with fear, with sorrow.

The mortal remains of Han Hanhyung had been cremated, all of them except for the organs donated to this facility, with the consent of his mother.

You gasped, and read more, eyeing for just a second and seeing that the rest of the book were more of the same, permits, letters of consents and legal contracts, but then this one. You thought it had to be coincidence, that it couldn’t be, but as you read the next part you started to feel dizzy, everything made sense now, and at the same time everything had been turned around into something that was almost wicked. The reason why he was so human, the reason why he seemed to feel it all, was because in a way Taehyung was. This company had managed to blur the line between what was possible and what wasn’t, there were human cells, brain cells, alive, functioning in Taehyung’s body. How was it that this was legal? How was it that this was unknown to the general public? Or maybe you were far too ignorant and just couldn’t imagine this happening.

You closed the book and gasped for air. Now where that left him? Taehyung wasn’t just a robot anymore, he was alive, even if there was something minuscule in him he was alive and that… You shook your head turning around and almost running back to the main lobby.

Your parents were alarmed when they saw you coming into the house with a man carrying Taehyung. They had sent you home with one of the employees to help you with Taehyung who just needed to be charged to keep “functioning normally”. You had nodded at everything signing the papers of the procedures but stopping to read the small letters too, before you had though these type of companies were a bit weird, now you thought they were something else you couldn’t put an adjective at the moment. You were shocked, but the truth was you didn’t trust them any longer, you were scared of anything they put you to sign, what if you were giving consent to something you wouldn't want to? What if those people weren’t aware of what they were giving their consent? The thought made you nauseous, and it showed. Luckily your parents linked the whole thing to the accident and not to anything you could have seen after.

-They both need rest I guess- your mother sort of giggled and sighed at the same time giving you a worried stare.

You nodded and then went upstairs where the man put Taehyung to charge and then went away although you heard him talking to your dad. You on the other hand couldn’t do anything else than stare at him, Taehyung.

It was like nothing had happened to him, his skin seemed doll like but still human, it looked like he had fallen asleep against the wall, he had his eyes closed and even from a distance you could detail his long lashes resting at the top of his cheeks, he had such full lashes, very beautiful. His face had a natural neutral expression, his sleep seemed light, like he was just resting his eyes for a little bit, it was like if you were to talk to him and he would snap back with that puppy smile. You gasped a little sob and realized you had started to cry. Taehyung couldn’t do that.

You fell asleep at some point, without noticing. But you didn’t wake the same way, you woke gasping and looking around for him, Taehyung was sitting this time right next to your bed and at hearing you alarmed he bolted to his feet and seemed to panic.

-Y/N, are you alright? Should this Taehyung call emergencies?-

You shook your head, seeing him, silently thanking destiny and even the shady engineers because he remembered you.

-No- you assured and he went down to kneel beside your bed once again. You stared at him now from up close, how beautiful he was, you had fooled everyone with him. He smiled softly seeing that you were staring, you stretched your hand to his head, just until you could graze his hair with your fingertips. The touch made your insides turn with emotion, and it made Taehyung lean into your hand more, humming in delight. He was happy with your affection, or was he really? Could you fool yourself like this too?

Biting your lip you retreated your hand and held your breath for a moment before talking.

-I’m glad you are ok, do you remember what happened?-

-I do, more or less- he answered after a few seconds.

-You can’t do that, you can’t throw yourself to the street like that, ok? It’s dangerous, do you know what dangerous is?-

-It is a word I have registered in my dictionary, I know its meaning- he answered not catching the sarcasm, you were suddenly angry. With him for putting himself in danger, with the car, with that company, with yourself. -Taehyung just wanted to keep the treasure safe-

-But it was dangerous-

-Taehyung is sorry owner-

You sighed not wanting to be angry at him, it hadn’t been his fault, you shouldn’t be treating him like this.

At that moment he started searching his pockets and then looked at you in the eye. -Do you have it?-

The irony of it all, he had put his life at risk for that wooden token that had been left on the asphalt, with the panic you had forgotten about it. You felt guilty about it since you remembered how much he had been excited with it. So much you wondered how was it possible for him to feel things so purely? Although now you had an idea. -I’m sorry… I left it, at that moment I… I’m sorry-

He nodded and then looked down with a sad face, was he programmed to feel sad when something sad happened? did he really felt it? -It’s ok owner, this Taehyung understand, is my own fault for being imprudent-

-That’s also a word in your dictionary?- you asked after two minutes of painful silence of you feeling guilty.

He nodded eagerly. -You don’t know it? I will tell it for you, Imprudent, adjective, not showing considera….-

-Stop!- you laughed sitting down. -I know what imprudent means I was just…- you shook your head watching him smiling since you had laughed suddenly, there was a big thunder in your chest and you shook your head setting it aside. -Breakfast time- you stood up fighting with yourself and the rush you felt, all the feelings that had developed for him coming on to you all at once, like a wave crashing shore. A bit violent and confusing, but in any way avoidable. He came closer and once again he did that, his arms going around your body to pull you to his embrace in a hug. You wanted to cry there, because this wasn’t possible, because what had happened to him, the old him, had been terrible. Because you felt for him things you shouldn’t.

-I’m sorry- he said very softly. -I will not lose anything else anymore- he continued and you fought with yourself to push him away and not let at this get carried away, not let you get too much of the situation, of him. -Don’t look so sad Y/N, please-

He thought you were upset with him losing the damn token, if you had only not given him that then he wouldn’t have been hit by that car, you wouldn’t have found out about the details within him. Perhaps everything would be different, but not these feelings, whatever they meant, you had started to feel something for him way before yesterday. The imprudent one had been you.

You detangled from him not looking at him directly but trying to speak as strong and firm as you could. -Don’t do that Taehyung, don’t touch me like that ever again-

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