#i may have endured this shit for years but i would NEVER wish this upon my moots

[vilsoo]

no because wtf is this trend of “popular”wattpad writers that migrate over here and are COMPLETLEY NEW to tumblr, thinking they can just get away with stealing from bigger tumblr fic writers???

[chococolte]

PLEASE AM BEGGING, HOW WOULD , ZHONGLI, CHILDE, AND HEIZOU 'PROVE THEMSELVES' TO THE CREATOR READER, LIKE WHAT EXACTLY, WOULD THEY GO ON A FULL FLEDGED KILLING SPREE IN THE NAME OF THE CREATOR OR ARE THEY MORE DOCILE AND VANILLA???

U could add characters u might want to write for, but these aee ones u said u have a brain rot for sooo..

Thanks! <3

word count. 1.1k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious & cult themes, sagau + cult au shit, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. man im such a slow writer ☠️ apologies zhongli's is longer than the rest, also im sorry if this isn't exactly what u wanted 😭

zhongli

Zhongli is old, strong like tempered glass. He has endured like the earth; only time has weathered his jagged cliffs and jeweled karsts. He has been strong in preparation of you, holding on when so many times he has wanted to let go.

All he wants now is to serve you. That is his final request, his only demand of you. Just let him take care of you as you are now in your mortal form, until you take to the skies and ascend past what is known. Zhongli desires to worship you at your feet, where he has only imagined himself before. To kneel before you and finally let go of his worldly responsibilities is his only wish.

That you may question his devotion to you is terrifying. All he can do to stop himself from begging at your feet to please let him stay is to dig his nails into the palms of his hands, to assure himself that you must know how much he loves you. How many years he spent worshiping you from afar, how happy he was to feel the light of your control, how euphoric it was to finally see you.

The real you. The one that lived and breathed, the one that laughed and cried. Zhongli imagined the moment so many times until it was ingrained into his head, but it didn't stop him from shaking upon making eye contact. Surely, you know how long he waited for that moment?

That you may doubt him— the mere thought of it sends him into a frenzy, so unlike him. Your thoughts, your perception, your impression of him; your opinion is holy, sacred. If you think he isn't enough, that he's lacking in some form, then he is. Even if he doesn't know why, even if he's never felt so sick before, he will do everything in his power to prove himself to you. If you find him unsatisfactory, or inadequate— he must find whatever part of him you dislike and cut it off.

You don't like the way he brews tea, perhaps? That's understandable. You're his God, after all, and your palate must be refined. His lowly tea leaves could never please you. There has to be a replacement, however? Something you enjoy. Just tell him the name, and he'll go fetch it for you.

Is it his form that you find distasteful? The way he ties his hair, his attire— did you prefer his half-adeptus form, perhaps? He'll happily revert back to it, if you'd like. Do you like women more? That's fine. It's not difficult for him to change his body to fit your preferences.

Did you dislike that he faked his death? If it's your desire, Zhongli will gladly take back the mantle of Geo Archon. His wants are nothing. If you will it so, then so it will be. Rule beside him if you'd like; use him as a puppet ruler, a toy. Your plaything. Whatever you want.

It doesn't matter who he has to hurt, what extent he has to reach. Whatever you ask of him, he will follow without question. He will pick up his blade, sully himself even further; become unrecognizable to anyone but himself.

If he must burn down all of Liyue, so be it. To fall in line beneath your command is his greatest desire.

childe

Childe feels like throwing up.

It doesn't cross his mind that maybe you're the one who's forsaken him. No, he's the one who failed you. He disappointed you in some way, made you upset with him. You don't want him anymore— but that's okay. He just has to work harder, then. He'll push himself until he's weak and withered, until he can finally feel the weight of your gaze again. Until he's worthy enough to bear it.

You are everything. The dazzling stars that flare in the night sky, the whispers of morning dew that brush against his legs. You are his first and final breath, encompassing and overwhelming. To Childe, you are a fire that burns eternally; in the frigid north of Snezhnaya, you are the only source of warmth.

Without you, he is nothing. Childe will go to any lengths to assure his spot by your side. He'll burn any bridges, destroy whatever stands in his way. The Tsarista may have given him purpose, but you gave him life. If it was you who asked, Childe would happily throw his loyalty to the side. Nobody else matters. Nothing else matters. The mere thought of you discarding him is enough to make him sick.

How many have killed for you, like he has? How many have stained their hands until the blood is skin deep, in their vessels and veins? Childe has done so much for you. He's killed so many— soiled his soul, all in your name. Perhaps he should find such an idea distasteful, but he can't find it in him. This is what he has to do to prove himself. To make sure you know he is worthy enough.

Whoever it is he has to kill, whatever beast he has to slay— if you want him to kneel before you and beg on all fours like a dog, he will. If you want him to hurt himself, he will.

Whatever you want. Just don't throw him away.

heizou

Heizou, ever since he has learned of you, has devoted his life to you.

You are the ultimate justice in this world. The only good that exists. You burn away all evil. You share his ideals, his hope for the future. It's only right that he worships you, that he kneel before your light.

It's for this reason that he panics like no other when turned away. You want proof of his devotion? For him to prove himself worthy? So be it. Regardless of the sick feeling in his stomach, of the panic and dread that settles at the bottom of his soul, Heizou will push himself into the deep end.

He will forgo any sense of self that he has. Whatever self-worth he harbors is thrown to the side, desolate and forgotten. None of it matters anymore. You've thrown him away, and he must prove that he's worth to keep.

To become justice, to eradicate all evil: his tenets of self, what drove him forward. Heizou can't find it in himself to care anymore, not like he used to. He'll dirty himself until he's wrapped in sin, suffocating in its abyss, until you reach for him again and heal him of his wickedness.

Heizou will dirty his hands with blood, of the vile and the innocent. Mortality no longer matters, it does not serve a purpose in his actions. It is only whether this is enough for you— it is, isn't it?

[wri0thesley]

nat…….. your brain…………………… i am losing my mind

i know we know shit and also fuck about him, but. wriothesley arranged marriage where he's never been particularly interested in politics, but for one reason or another it's advantageous and gets people off his back (or something) so-- fine. sure. it's not like he has to do anything more than share quarters with you, he can endure.

meanwhile, you'd assumed you'd never marry; you're not shaped like they are in fashion prints, maybe you're a bit on the older side-- it just never really seemed like an option, and then suddenly it's happening all at once, and you're traded like a chesspiece for someone else's advantage.

the awkwardness on both sides. the adjustment to living in (or near, I presume???????) an (underwater???) fortress-prison. the slow realization that oh. perhaps. he is not quite so severe as he seems. perhaps your privileged life has been more of a cage than a nest. navigating around the clear boundaries set when you didn't know each other and this was a marriage in name alone-- but now maybe you DO want to start to know each other, and there are all these walls to tear down.

the terminus of this thought that's driving me into a frenzy is the idea of wriothesley choosing to court them, to do all the things a potential suitor should have done-- for the person he's been married to for like a year-- because he realizes he DOES care for them, he DOES maybe even love them. it may be all backwards from how things should have happened-- but it's never too late, and even if he's making a bit of a fool of himself, they're worth it.

tumblr user glazemedaka comes in with an arrow to the heart. OH. arranged marriage that he truly expected to just be convenient; people will stop pawing at him, leave him to his work, and he was promised you were utterly obedient and would not infringe upon him. perhaps you even have some skillset useful down there, in the underwater fortress of a prison. the two of you don't even share a bed, and gossip travels fast in a place like this, so of course everybody knows that the two of you have probably not even consumnated this sham of an arranged marriage--

only for him to begin to notice you. you may not love your husband (yet), you may too understand this is merely to keep the hounds at bay (a duke, you see - monsieur wriothesley, his grace, an esteemed husband for any society member wishing to get a leg up in things) - but you see no reason to hate him, so you care for him in spousal duties as you can. learn his preferences, his favourite meals, his favourite scents and how he likes things to be around the living quarters. his favourite books, things he may like to discuss - and he realises with a start, when you are not there on evening, how much he has come to depend on your companionship. how much he misses you when you're gone. how much he likes you--

how much he wants you.

[throwsahammer]

Back when I worked the night shift in-office, the lads and I would constantly be on the lookout for internet content to keep ourselves entertained. This culminated in my buddy and I playing Oregon Trail Deluxe via the Internet Archive and getting into increasingly bizarre competitions. We initially started out with a simple race to the finish, but after a while, we were regularly trying to see who could have everyone in their wagon die of the same illness or seeing who could complete a run with the least amount of starting equipment. We'd see who could survive the longest off of a single bullet with no trading, or who could ford the most rivers with at least one survivor.

With all that in mind, it may come as a shock to you that by far, the wackiest competitions were the ones where we were trying to go for high scores. For those unfamiliar, the Deluxe edition of Oregon Trail would award you points at the end of a successful run for everything you had on you, including surviving party members, oxen, sets of extra clothing, leftover supplies, and cash. If you played the game as intended, you would typically have to make strategic decisions about whether to spend your meager starting funds on essentials or on score-enhancing items.

We were most definitely not playing the game as intended, and by that, I mean we were abusing the absolute shit out of the game's broken trading mechanic. See, instead of engaging with the game's actual economy, you could simply keep inputting a desired item and pressing a button until someone offered you a favorable trade. If you knew what you were doing, you could stretch your starting funds to a ridiculous degree, or even (slowly) generate infinite wealth. The game had hard limits on how many of a specific item you could actually have at a time, so usually, these runs would consist of trading in Independence until you had a full team of oxen and enough supplies to make the trek a cakewalk, traveling to just outside of the Willamette Valley, and then trading until you got tired and decided to just end it, which made Oregon Trail Deluxe high score competitions into tests of physical endurance.

I learned a lot about the game's underlying systems during this time and realized that I needed to test its limits via the ultimate test: could I have an entire wagon die of old age before ever even leaving Independence?

I quickly set to work, repeatedly swindling the locals out of the same ox and set of clothes in order to make enough money to buy food. Due to the fact that we weren't moving at all, I was able to set rations to bare bones, as the health penalty from starvation was almost entirely offset by the bonus from resting. I settled in for the long haul, resting for 9-day chunks of time (the most days it will allow you to rest in one go) and only interrupting the hibernation to trade whenever food stocks got low. Every few months, I would set rations to full for a few days to replenish everyone's health to the maximum before returning to the usual routine of slowly starving to death in a wagon on the outskirts of the city.

I kept this up for an ungodly amount of time. Years passed. I eventually did some googling and made the horrible discovery that there is no such thing as death by old age in Oregon Trail Deluxe, but by then, the challenge had already transcended its original concept entirely. I no longer wished death upon my little party of immoral wagon-dwelling scam artists, and instead decided to just see how long I could keep their little routine going. I set a soft goal of making it to 1948, a full century after the initial expedition's "departure". Alas, it was not meant to be. I only made it to the 1880s when a companywide hardware update erased all of my stagnant progress. I told myself that I would resume the experiment at some point, but I never did.

[edenmemes]

ghost of tsushima starters

❝ promise you’ll remain the good man i know. ❞   ❝ only fools have no fear of death. ❞   ❝ i am very much alive. but my patience is dying. ❞   ❝ i’ll make sure you are remembered. as a great warrior...a wise leader. ❞   ❝ the strength we need is all around us. ❞   ❝ the past cannot hurt you. ❞   ❝ this whole journey, and i never asked your name. ❞   ❝ fear drives you to be stronger. fight harder. ❞ ❝ sometimes...our only choice is to walk away from everything we know ❞ ❝ we do what we must. that is why you and i are both survivors. ❞ ❝ i can do good! i just...need practice. ❞ ❝ may your next life be more peaceful than this one. ❞ ❝ i knew it was too good to be true. ❞ ❝ i'll see what i can do. but if you’re lying to me... ❞ ❝ you’re too comfortable with that power. ❞ ❝ don’t ever try to kill me again. ❞ ❝ turn your back on a foe...and you will die with a sword stuck in it. ❞ ❝ youre not slipping away that easily. ❞ ❝ just stay closed. keep your sword sheathed. and let me do the talking. ❞ ❝ the things i saw still haunt my nightmares. ❞ ❝ i dont even know if you're real. ❞ ❝ victories don’t have to feel good. ❞   ❝ killing your own family...it’s harder than you could ever imagine. ❞   ❝ it’s safer for everyone if i just disappear. ❞   ❝ next time, leave some glory for the rest of us. ❞   ❝ peace doesn’t always come quietly. ❞   ❝ some people respond to kindness. others require a glimpse of steel. ❞ ❝ i am nothing if not honest. ❞ ❝ stop using people, and start thinking about how you can help them. ❞ ❝ you’ve had your vengeance. don’t stand in the way of mine. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do it alone. ❞ ❝ not all words need to be spoken. ❞   ❝ there is time yet for revenge. i will savour their cries of pain when that time comes. ❞ ❝ i have learned to love the cool, damp dark. ❞ ❝ the last thing i saw was faces filled with hatred, rage... ❞ ❝ you didn’t think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you? ❞ ❝ we will celebrate when this is all over. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong with you? one moment we stand shoulder-to-shoulder, the next you’re ready to cross blades. ❞ ❝ a warrior learns from their mistakes, or they are buried by them. ❞ ❝ remember your training...and never leave my side. ❞ ❝ well...i guess this is goodbye. ❞ ❝ your visions will grow worse, driving you to madness and death. ❞ ❝ i can only pretend for so much longer. i’m not like these people and never will be. ❞ ❝ i loved you all my life, but i could never work up the courage to tell you. ❞ ❝ the proud do not last, and the mightiest of us perish like dust before the wind. ❞ ❝ you’re a vision of mercy. ❞ ❝ not bad, but only half-good. ❞ ❝ we make a good team, don’t we? ❞ ❝ an archer’s aim relies not on eyes...but on body, mind, and spirit. ❞ ❝ this is my fight. i don’t need your weapon. ❞ ❝ being right doesn’t always make things better. ❞ ❝ there is nothing easier than to prey upon the vanity of ambitious men. ❞ ❝ you weren’t looking so good. i let you rest. ❞ ❝ your intentions this time were...better than usual. ❞ ❝ what are you not telling me? ❞ ❝ trouble sticks to you like shit on rice. ❞ ❝ it’s strange being back after so many years...everywhere i look brings back memories. ❞ ❝ only a child expects perfection of their elders. ❞ ❝ when this is all over, what will you do? ❞ ❝ you are ruled by your emotion. ❞ ❝ is this how you want to be remembered? ❞ ❝ perhaps great men share all the aspects of their lessers, but more. great wisdom, but even greater cruelty. ❞ ❝ i cannot imagine the burden a leader like you must bear. ❞ ❝ our greatest enemies are the greatest teachers. ❞ ❝ death’s shadow embraces me. hand in hand we walk. ❞ ❝ breathe. you can’t fight if you hold your breath. ❞ ❝ i know you well enough by now, my friend. ❞ ❝ i can’t go back...to what i was. before this. ❞ ❝ i hope you one day forgive me for the choice i made. ❞ ❝ the wounds you dealt my spirit will never heal. ❞ ❝ why did you turn away from me? ❞ ❝ if you can keep moving forward, so can i. ❞ ❝ it’s a bad idea to sneak up on me. ❞ ❝ promise me something. don’t become like me. ❞ ❝ let me undo the damage i’ve done. ❞ ❝ ...and you want me to clean up your mess. ❞ ❝ the path ahead may take a lifetime, but i will walk it with you. always. ❞ ❝ whatever you believe i’ve become, i will always be your family. ❞ ❝ i wouldn’t be here without you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you past the horizon if i must. ❞ ❝ can i count on you to do what needs to be done? ❞ ❝ that’s over now. you’re here. with me. ❞ ❝ i thought i’d lost you, i should’ve known you’d never give up. ❞ ❝ you can’t continue down this path. ❞ ❝ be careful. demons are everywhere and they fear nothing. ❞ ❝ corpses can’t answer questions. ❞ ❝ you deserve greater respect than this. ❞ ❝ it’s just like the stories my father told me. ❞ ❝ what you become tomorrow is your choice. ❞ ❝ just ask the last man who questioned my sincerity. you’ll find his head covered in flies out back. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t have lied. i still would have helped you. ❞ ❝ we came this far. we’re not turning back now. ❞ ❝ how do we survive if we don’t trust each other? ❞ ❝ without my help, the fear and pain will overwhelm you. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, we don’t retreat. ❞ ❝ the stories are true. i’ve never seen anyone fight like you. ❞ ❝ see how the enemy fear you? you are a true warrior. ❞ ❝ you want to share a drink...with me? ❞ ❝ maybe you should’ve just ran away. like you always do. ❞ ❝ good people have nothing to fear from me. ❞ ❝ your promises are just like you. worthless. ❞ ❝ as you wish, since you asked so sweetly. ❞ ❝ i know better than to argue. ❞ ❝ i hope i can find quiet places like this one, untouched by war. ❞ ❝ we grew up together, but you threw it all away. ❞ ❝ it was so chaotic. i felt you grip my wrist and then nothing. ❞ ❝ desperation can bring out the demon in the best of men. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to leave without you, but...i can’t stay. i hope you understand. ❞ ❝ a grown man, and you still can barely sit still. ❞ ❝ and i heard you had no sense of humor! ❞ ❝ knowing and doing are different. ❞ ❝ trouble follows me everywhere. ❞ ❝ indulging violence weakens the warrior...like too much food or drink. ❞ ❝ i can always tell when you want to ask me something. out with it. ❞ ❝ i am proud to fight beside you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t nurse you back to health to watch you throw your life away. ❞ ❝ all i want...all i need is to start a new life. ❞ ❝ look twice and shoot once. ❞ ❝ i think they’re afraid of you. you can be...intimidating.. ❞ ❝ you don’t even try to hear me. it’s like talking to a stone. ❞ ❝ so you try to kill me? have you lost your mind? ❞ ❝ you’ve sacrificed everything. for revenge. ❞ ❝ we can’t let anger consume us. or blind us to our friends. ❞ ❝ there is only one way this ends. ❞ ❝ i gave you everything. and you threw it away. ❞ ❝ do not question my integrity again. ❞ ❝ your father would be proud. ❞ ❝ the worst one can do is take advantage of their own people. ❞ ❝ you follow trouble. you should ask yourself why.  ❞ ❝ some of my favourite memories happened at this place. ❞ ❝ i told you this was a bad idea! ❞ ❝ keep fighting. we need people like you. ❞ ❝ are you the one who finally kills me? ❞ ❝ a warrior’s most important weapon is themself. lose control, and you risk defeat. ❞ ❝ first, get some rest. this is killing you. ❞ ❝ see that? i told you. there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ i hope the skills i gained through hardship can be of use to the people here. ❞ ❝ you have skill...but you nearly died rushing into battle. ❞ ❝ in the midst of battle, true leaders must stay rooted, stand firm. ❞ ❝ every time i get in a mess like this, i’m as scared as the time before. ❞ ❝ don’t be the next to disappoint me. ❞ ❝ save what we can, but know that everything passes away. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand, this is just a job. ❞ ❝ that’s a sad way to look at the world. ❞ ❝ seeing you like that...i’m still shaken up. ❞ ❝ sit with me a moment. ❞ ❝ doubt and indecision have destroyed armies. ❞ ❝ it’s so painful to...see you weighed down by sadness. ❞ ❝ on the slim chance some good comes of this...lead the way. ❞ ❝ you fought well, but we’re finished. ❞ ❝ the warrior’s mind is quiet but alive, like rustling bamboo. ❞ ❝ i’ve trained with a blade since i could walk. ❞ ❝ the visions...they’re still happening. ❞ ❝ in our world, being intimidating isn’t a bad thing. ❞ ❝ you have a talent. it’s time you use it, for the sake of our land. ❞ ❝ i've tried to teach you all i know...but you act more like a poet than a warrior. ❞ ❝ your path leads to madness and death. ❞ ❝ that’s twice you saved my life. ❞ ❝ these people stay because they believe in you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t choose this life. it was my only option. ❞ ❝ you came at me like i was your mortal enemy. almost broke my arm! ❞ ❝ i could use your help...in the fight ahead. ❞ ❝ you can be a little rough, but you have a good heart. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to kill you, stop! ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? afraid i’ll get more famous than you? ❞ ❝ war brings out who we truly are. ❞ ❝ take care where you place your faith. ❞ ❝ you seem lost in thought. ❞ ❝ i was getting tired of waiting for you. ❞ ❝ without my wisdom, you will lose your soul to madness. ❞ ❝ peace is an unattainable dream...but a dream worth fighting for. ❞ ❝ i’ve killed a thousand men. every death was sweet. ❞ ❝ what is the point of prayer when we are doomed? ❞ ❝ you’re like your father in more ways than you know. ❞ ❝ if you want my respect, earn it. ❞ ❝ and how many wars have you fought? ❞ ❝ you’re quite the butcher with that sword. ❞ ❝ people who sow chaos must be punished. ❞ ❝ i can’t help but wonder if you enjoy the violence. ❞ ❝ i kill only to protect our people. i think about that every time i reach for my sword. ❞ ❝ i'm sorry if my lack of skill offends. ❞ ❝ it’s the first time in days i haven’t felt like i was about to die. ❞ ❝ you fought like an animal...or a demon! ❞ ❝ there’s nothing more painful to me than a perfect bow...ineptly used. ❞ ❝ victory is won by warriors, not weapons. ❞ ❝ i couldn’t leave you to die. ❞ ❝ i made my choices. even knowing what they’ve cost me, i’d make them again. ❞ ❝ when’s the last time you slept or ate? ❞ ❝ you don’t get to give up. this land needs you. ❞ ❝ oh you pretend we are different, but we fight for the same thing. ❞ ❝ there are still places of beauty to remind us of what truly matters. ❞ ❝ true mastery begins where individual ego ends. ❞ ❝ a warrior faces danger with courage and resolve. this is how they endure. ❞ ❝ those stories...they're not entirely true. ❞ ❝ even the youngest warrior needs a full belly and a rested sword-arm. ❞ ❝ bad men are good at hiding their true natures. ❞ ❝ there is nothing left for me here. my hope is lost. ❞ ❝ i did what i had to. for you. ❞ ❝ forgive my manners. i spent all my time alone. ❞ ❝ is that any way to greet a visitor? ❞ ❝ if you continue down this path...you’ll be no better than the enemy. ❞ ❝ i am grateful for the times we share...but, i always want more. ❞ ❝ you lived your life in a castle. it made you soft. ❞ ❝ i used to know what i fought for... ❞ ❝ face them as a warrior with honour. not a monster. ❞ ❝ i don’t take lives, but i am not a coward. ❞ ❝ i wonder if i’ve crossed a line. ❞ ❝ you can’t expect everyone to understand what you’re doing, or why. ❞ ❝ your methods were brutal...impulsive...without honour. ❞ ❝ there’s plenty to fear without worrying about folktales. ❞ ❝ i hope you’ll find peace again soon. ❞ ❝ you do what you need to survive. and yet you despise others for doing the same. ❞ ❝ is that your excuse? your reason to kill? ❞ ❝ we have to keep pushing. even if it costs us our lives. ❞ ❝ cowards without honour deserve no mercy. ❞ ❝ i’ll fight beside you until the end. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, your forgiveness won’t change who i am. ❞ ❝ why should we settle for scraps when we deserve to be legends? ❞ ❝ only cowards strike from the shadows. ❞ ❝ the proud do not endure. the greatest of us fall in the end. ❞ ❝ perhaps some good will come of this. ❞   ❝ you will see nothing but death to the end of your days. ❞ ❝ legacy is more than a name. ❞ ❝ im sorry. i know what it means to lose family. ❞ ❝ one day we'll escape the endless wheel of suffering. ❞ ❝ is that a 'thank you'? ❞ ❝ i know what it means to be hunted. ❞ ❝ you personify fury and regret. ❞ ❝ that's all right. i want to hear you dig your own grave. ❞ ❝ either way, we’ve got nothing to lose. ❞ ❝ i’ve done what i can. the rest is up to you. ❞ ❝ forgive me, but you look fatigued. have you endured much hardship? ❞    ❝ i hope you find true honour in your next life. ❞ ❝ you deserve nothing less than death. ❞ ❝ this is foolish. surrender, and you can live. ❞ ❝ i too have pride in family. and i know what it’s like to live in their shadow. ❞ ❝ you were gone so long, i knew you were in trouble. ❞ ❝ so many of us here owe you our lives. ❞ ❝ what's wrong? what did they do to you? ❞   ❝ you’re lucky to be alive. ❞ ❝ i know your language. your traditions. your beliefs. which village to tame and which to burn. ❞   ❝ i cannot lose you again. ❞   ❝ i don’t seek revenge. but i will fight for peace. ❞   ❝ we will meet again soon. until then...travel safely. ❞   ❝ this is war --- not a test. ❞ ❝ we can save our home together. it doesn’t have to be like this. ❞ ❝ fear is a weapon. don’t let them use it against you. ❞

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Five

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Fluff, Injuries, Kinda Angst

Word Count: 2.7K

A/n: Happy New Year to all you beautiful people. I’m writing this and I’m feeling pretty happy right now but I’m also feeling very drained because I’m working so much and there's shit going on, BUT I wanted to post this because it’s been long awaited. It’s shorter because it’s a rare (Kinda) fluffy chapter and It ends off on a good place to have me starting the next part openly. My brain is mush rn so Idk if this is even making sense.

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

~*~

“I need to know exactly what you did to her. She is in there, in pain and agony and you stand here acting as though you are the one who had to endure the hardships.”

James grinds his teeth together, wishing his reunion with his beloved was going better.

“I... I was harsh with her. I told her she would never replace you... that her only purpose was to give me an heir and that she could be easily replaced. She... she angered me and I struck her... I have forced myself upon her in my anger and my haste to consummate the marriage. I know I am wrong for all I have done but I am doing everything in my power to right my wrongs.”

He doesn’t see it coming, only realizes it when his nose crunches beneath Steve's fist.

“You are a coward! A King would not behave like that even if he had lost his entire kingdom! You have treated our wife as though she is a prisoner! And I say our wife because in title that is what she is. However, she is my wife in my heart as well. But anyone can see that she is not your wife in yours. The way you have treated her... you should not be allowed near her.”

He strikes his husband again, his knuckles knocking the side of his cheek as the brunet dodges swiftly.

“I know. I understand that what I have done is wrong but-” “No, James, I don’t think you do! She is terrified of you! She’d sooner seek comfort in me, a stranger, than in you. You are the first face of our kingdom that she met and you...” The blond trails off, beyond furious with his husband.

“You have broken that woman. What can you even say for yourself?”

The brunet backs up a step, his hands raised in surrender as Steve steps closer to him, his hands clenching into fists.

“Nothing will excuse my actions and I realize that. But I will not stop trying to fix the damage I have caused.” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head at the other man.

“I’m not sure if you will be able to fix it.” They’re both quiet for a long moment before Steve speaks again, walking past his husband and towards the door.

“I think it would be best if you gave both (Y/n) and myself some space. Do not come to either of us unless we have directly summoned you.” The brunet nods, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Steve has to focus on his breathing as he walks back to your chambers, wanting to be there when you wake up and wanting to be in a better space as to not scare you.

When the door opens you’re awake, seated on your bed nursing a small cup of tea.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, dismissing Wanda with a nod. You take a deep breath and smile weakly at him.

“Better than yesterday, Your Majesty.” 

A shake of his head at the use of his title.

“Please, (Y/n). You’re my wife. You may address me by my name,” he says while stepping further into the room. 

“Steve,” you test the name, surprised at yourself for liking the way it feels rolling off your tongue.

He smiles warmly at you, sitting at the edge of your bed when you motion to it. You take a moment to really take him in as he sits in front of you.

The second King of Acadia is as gorgeous as his husband. He’s got endless blue eyes that shine with kindness, a kindness that has been shown to you only by Natalia and Wanda since you entered the Kingdom.

His frame is large and muscular, and you find yourself entranced and intimidated by him. Your brows furrow, however, when you see his split knuckles.

“You are hurt?” You ask, looking pointedly at his right hand. He instinctively clenches it into a fist then sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I let my emotions get the better of me when I learned of what His Majesty did to you.” You frown, looking down at the porcelain cup in your grasp.

Fragile and delicate, just like you.

“My very presence drives a wedge between the two of you. For that, I am sorry.” He shakes his head, fingers coming under your chin and lifting it until you look at him. The way you flinch when he raises his hand has his heart aching.

“It is not you who has created a wedge, nor is it you who drives it between us. James is well aware of his actions and he must face the consequences. He does not get special treatment because he is King. He’s lucky I only struck him for what he’s done to you. He deserves far worse.” You shake your head, grabbing the King’s hand tightly in yours.

“Please do not punish him. I fear he may think his fears are coming true. I do not wish to replace you nor do I wish to replace him. And by punishing him more I fear he may think that that is what is happening.”

Steve’s brows pull together in confusion.

“Do you not wish for him to feel what it is you’ve felt?” You shake your head, a shaky breath leaving you as you choose your words wisely.

“I... I would not wish my treatment upon anyone. But he has made efforts to repair our relationship. I do not wish to anger him with a relationship with you. I fear that us being close may be enough to bring his anger back to the surface.”

Steve is quiet, pondering your words for a long moment before lifting your entwined hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If he makes one hostile move towards you I will have him thrown in the dungeon. He will not bring you any more pain. I give you my word.” You nod slowly, not used to someone being so protective of you.

“Now I’m sure you need your rest, so I will not deprive you of it any longer.” He goes to stand up but you tug on his hand, not wanting him to leave just yet. His presence is refreshing. Something unlike anything you’ve experienced in years. And you do not want him to leave anytime soon.

“C-could you perhaps stay with me for a while longer? I... I value your presence. I know that I have only just met you, but you... you are a comfort in a kingdom that has brought only pain.” You don’t mean for your words to hurt him, and the sadness on his face nearly makes you regret speaking.

Until he settles back on the bed, a smile on his face as he squeezes your hand gently in both of his.

“I will stay with you until you no longer want me. This place should be a home to you, not a place of pain, and I will do all I can to ensure you feel safe and comfortable in your own Kingdom.”

The new approach has hope sparking in your belly, and you’re cautiously optimistic about your relationship with Steve. You only hope that you’ll be able to repair the one you have with James before he gets angry again.

~*~

“Is she eating?” Wanda nods, smiling at the blond king from her spot in the kitchen.

“Good. She looks ill. I want her to be healthy again. It is my goal to have her happy in her new home. Undo the damage that James caused.” Wanda sighs, shaking her head.

“They were rebuilding their relationship. Slowly but I’m sure they will have grown to love each other,” she says softly, and then it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head at her.

“It would be nothing more than love built on lies and fear. She deserves more than that.” Wanda nods, her heart heavy. She knows you haven’t been treated fairly, but she had hoped you and James would be able to build your relationship.

“Will you forgive His Majesty?” Steve sighs, not truly knowing the answer.

“I want to, but with what he did... it feels wrong to forgive him.” Wanda nods knowingly, gathering things for your lunch.

“Well, I know that the Queen is well on her way to forgiving him. I think it would do you well to forgive him. However, I have already overstepped. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go tend to my lady.”

She pauses at the doorway, looking over at the King and speaking freely for a moment. 

“I think you would do well to speak to the King with a cool head. Consider all that has happened and all that you had planned for your marriage.” She bows her head then leaves the kitchen, having given Steve many things to consider.

He stays in the room for a while longer, gathering his thoughts and trying to figure out what to do.

As he’s leaving, he nearly bumps straight into his husband.

James averts his eyes, although it pains him to do so. He wants nothing more than to devour every inch of the man before him.

He says nothing, instead, bows his head and waits for Steve to do something.

“James.” His eyes snap up, meeting the endless blues of his lover.

“Steve. H-How is she?” Steve grinds his teeth for a moment, Wanda’s words echoing in his mind before he huffs out a deep breath.

“If you would like, I will take you to see her. However, if she requests you leave, you will leave immediately. Do you understand?” James nods, his shoulders lifting slightly.

As they walk towards your chambers Steve takes a moment to take in the appearance of the brunet.

He’s got deep bags under his eyes and a heeling bruise on his cheek branching out across the bridge of his nose.

His skin is pale and almost lifeless, and Steve feels and for a moment. Until he remembers what his husband did to you.

By then they’re already at your door, far too late to turn back, and Steve knocks softly.

“My darling? May I come in?”

Your voice calls out eagerly, allowing him entrance.

In the few days since his return, he’s spent every waking moment with you, and you find yourself missing him in the few moment’s that he is not by your bedside.

He smiles at the sight of you. You’re far livelier than before, a smile on your face as he walks in.

“Good afternoon,” you say softly, your smile fading slightly as you see the man behind him.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him, bowing your head slightly.

“He is your husband, (Y/n). You may address him by his name. We would prefer it if you did.” You look between the two before nodding slowly, scooting back on your bed to make room for the two of them. 

Wanda smiles warmly at you, handing you a fresh cup of tea before excusing herself.

“May we sit?” James asks softly, motioning to your bed. You nod, taking a slow sip of tea while not taking your eyes off of the two men.

“You look well. You are eating more?” You nod, smiling at James softly.

“The same cannot be said for you,” You whisper, frowning at the bruises on his face.

“It is nothing that I do not deserve. I deserve far worse for all I have done. It is only my hope that we can grow together.” You’ve got a sad smile on your face as you look between the two of them, the tension rolling off of them in waves.

“What is it, darling?” Steve asks softly, reaching out to take your hand. You squeeze his warm hand then sigh, struggling for a moment to find the words.

“I have created a wedge between you. That is not something I ever wanted. I never wanted to come between you, nor have I ever wanted to replace either of you. I... I apologize for all that my presence here has caused.”

They both shake their heads, eyes meeting momentarily, Steve's filled with accusation while James’ are filled with guilt.

“You have done nothing wrong. That is something I want you to fully grasp.” You look at James as he speaks, heart thumping in your chest.

It’s been a while since you’ve had him so close to you and you’re not sure how you feel about it.

“Everything that has happened... it is all my doing. You have not done anything wrong. I am the one who has created a wedge between us... the one who has caused such distance. And I will spend every day trying to make up for that. I know you may not trust me or what I say, but I mean every word that I have spoken today.” You look between him and Steve, bottom lip tucked between your teeth for a moment.

“I want to trust you. I want us to be happy and I want us to have a good marriage, however, I will need time. But I do not want the two of you to be at ends with each other because of me. I fear it will cause far more conflict than it is worth.” Steve looks at you for an impossibly long moment before nodding, looking over his shoulder at where his husband is.

“I do not know how you have forgiven him, but I suppose I will try as well. We will forgive, but we will not forget.”

James nods, wanting to feel relieved but something is gnawing at his stomach.

“Your forgiveness is far more than I deserve. I will not, for as long as I live, be able to ever forgive myself for what I have done to you. The pain I have caused.” His eyes flitter down to your stomach, now devoid of the life that was growing. Devoid of the child that would’ve been his. A child that would’ve been the product of pain and of torment.

“How are you feeling, truly? I can only imagine the pain.”

You follow his gaze down to your stomach then swallow hard.

“If I may be honest with you... a small part of me is sad... but a larger part is relieved. I know it is wrong and horrid of me to think, but I am grateful to not be carrying a child that was forced upon me. It is my duty as Queen to give you heirs, and I shall. But not like that. It is too bold of me and I apologize, but if we are to make this marriage work then it is something that you must know.”

He nods easily, understanding what you mean.

“This marriage... we chose you, (Y/n). Specifically you,” Steve says softly, waiting for you to look up at him before speaking.

“We could’ve chosen any woman.” 

Upon seeing the frown on your face, James jumps in. “When he says that, he means that we had been offered wives before but none of them stood out to us. And then we were presented with you...” You look at him, confusion bringing your brows together.

“The princess of Orlen. A woman with kindness and beauty. From the way your father spoke of you, we chose you. If only to save you from a fate that he promised.”

You’re not sure how you feel about this.

“We spoke of you for weeks on end. We spoke of how we would love you, how we would treat you. How we would bed you...” A shiver races down your spine and you glance down, shaking your head.

“I-I do not think I will be ready for that for quite a while. I am sorry, but I just... I cannot. I can hardly walk without being in pain and Doctor Banner thinks that it may take weeks before I can do anything such as that.” Steve’s hand is on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“We will wait. Your body has gone through something that neither one of us could ever imagine. We will not be angry with your healing process and we will not rush it. It is as I said before, your health and happiness mean everything to me.”

James nods his agreement but can’t help feeling left out of the tender moment being shared. As much as he may try, he knows he will not be welcomed with open arms. And he doesn’t expect to be. However, it doesn’t lessen the pain. If anything, it amplifies it.

Jealousy and anger simmer deep in his core, and he has to take careful breaths to make sure he doesn’t let them show. The last thing he needs is to scare you further. And although he truly does wish to be on good terms with you, seeing you with his husband the way you are... it brings something monstrous to the front of his mind.

Something he’s only ever taken out on the battlefield.

The good part if him is afraid for your safety if he cannot reel in the beast. But the beast roars beneath the surface, ready to claw its way out and reclaim what is his.

[antihumanism]

When I type everything out as a single run-on sentence I want you to imagine me cornering you off-guard in a crowded room, my empty brown cow eyes staring straight at you and reflecting you--nopony home here, she checked out and hopped away forever ago on the toxic chemical trains and clacking cattle cars years ago--and just, for no reason, I’m here and you’re there pocketed in the corner of a crowded room, and I’m channeling my alternate history past-self who was a preacher that got kicked out of the church for delivering sermons about the impossibility of sin and just ran off to Point Sur with my harem of distractions since I could never stop blessing my congregation saying “Go forth and know that you cannot sin, in the beautiful eyes of God and in my beautiful eyes there can be no wrong or evil” which backfired on me when they started setting fires and it all went to Hell, but I’ve won out over them because the world honored my wishes when I sighed “I should like to start again,” and so I’m here with you and you’re hear with me and I’m saying some insane shit like: “Looking back on Emily’s early works it is easy to see where her later reactionary turn comes from, because, from the start, Alfred Alfer was a story about the fear of castration, I mean, the first video was literally about Alfred getting neutered and escaping into a violent fantasy where he is loved and praised for his violence and the ‘punchline’ establishes the general theme of ‘reality by despair,’ which is to say that Alfred’s clearly dissociative episode is ‘verified’ by his destruction and it is this self-destruction that establishes ‘reality,’ like ‘pinch me i might be dreaming,’ but the pinch is violent and unfair self-destruction as hope is still ripped away, but hope remains, because it is a hope to die rather than be changed by the world, and this theme remains throughout her most famous work (the Alfred’s Playhouse trilogy which cements in canon the jokes of her previous Rise of Alfred cartoon) where Alfred is possessed by the spirits of Stalin and Hitler--a false equivalency made by the authoritarians that have passed for liberals for years--in Rise of Alfred, one would be remiss not to mention the phallic imagery in both the title and the video itself, Alfred is cut loose upon the world by the absence of a Near God or little other by the orders of a Distant God or big Other (in this video played by a droning and irrelevant corporate figure that can offer nothing more than a wall without lead paint that one can lick), and this is the essence of reactionary thought, the idea of a big Other who is totally incompetent yet all powerful and somehow worth respecting and suffering for (King Henry II saying ‘will no one rid me of this troublesome priest’ or the departed Daiymo of the 47 Ronin), the reactionary sees the big Other as a master who can only set the dogs off the chain, the police chief who needs to get out of the way so McBain or Dirty Harry or Paul Kersey (especially in Death Wish III) can do what needs to be done and purge away all the filth and make the world right again (no different than Rambo--even the first movie, which for all of it’s goods part still is  reactionary propaganda bullshit pushing the fascist lies about a ‘fifth column’ that was rude to poor little meow meow war criminals--or modern day fantasies about nuking all of MENA until it glows green (fantasies delivered to raucous applause at Republican presidential conventions); the reactionary is perpetually trapped in this fantasy of destroying the world and escaping into the void of space, freed of the ground where the riff-raff are so they don’t have to negotiate life with their neighbors, and this is true, yes, even of people who spout bullshit about Fully Automated Luxury Communism who only want the right to consume as much as possible free of guilt--a condition they think is inflicting upon them by the big Other--as the Champagne of Shame Socialists of the 60s), and the righting of the world for the reactionary is just that, that the world must be Righted and the reactionary must be loved for all of their violence and because of their violence, for the reactionary finds themselves ever needing new excuses as they open new fronts in their fake, phony Culture War, and that is all they need (excuses), which is why Emily is so obsessed with justifying her edgy shit based on some Trauma (which is handy excuse to do Anything, even Things that Cannot Be Excused like war or self-harm or wanting to be seen), and so here you should already be able to hear so much madness, so many plaintive cries, all aligning around the same point (the trannies in the ‘wrong’ bathroom, the refugees in the ‘wrong’ country, the people in the ‘wrong’ neighborhood, the Jewish Question, etc), and, anyway, so in Rise of Alfred, Emily’s OC directly addresses the audience and tells them that they must love him/her--the castrated bitch desperate to be let off the leash--and in Alfred’s Playhouse she/he simultaneously affirms and denies the nature of a trauma that justifies everything (one is constantly reminded of The Act of Killing where one of the mass murderers imagines how, depending on the editing of the final film, he could be either a woobie or a war criminal) as the Trauma is simultaneously a joke--’sodomized with a popsicle!’--and the alleged real event that motivates her self-mutilation as we’re expected to believe Emily is processing something, but what is she is processing, hmmmm, isn’t that the true spice,” I rail and rave against your poor ear drums as my empty, dead cow’s eyes capture your entire body and reflect it back at you and the ice cubes in my drink pop and shatter and dissolve and as my fist clenches tighter and tighter around the glass containing them and I continue: she’s processing a fear of castration, which is shown clearly in Alfred’s Playhouse where Alfred’s “sodomy” is demonstrated by the sight of his crotch covered in blood (a scene that will be repeated in The Alfred Alfer Movie) but “what is castration,” one might ask, and one can respond “it is the removal of power by the Father,” and this is how we wrap back around to our root in the nature of Emily the Reactionary who believes herself to be deprived of the power she holds by The Bolshevik Jew that has inserted itself between her and the Father and this is the cause of the big Other’s ineffectiveness, and this is also the core of the reactionary as a whole, the reactionary doesn’t want a daddy to control them, but a Master to set them off the chain because they hate the Father who has castrated them, this is the nature of the mumbling corporate manager in Rise of Alfred, but it is also the nature of Alfred herself--and now you may ask if Emily is trans and the answer is I literally couldn’t fucking care less about any question left forever unanswered on God’s Green Earth and you shouldn’t care either--but Alfred the Castrated is also the Father/Mother of Alfred the Dictator, the murderous inner-self that is immune to consequences of the onrushing future (The Alfred Alfer Movie) but not immune to the justifications of the imagined past (Alfred’s Playhouse trilogy), and therefore free to inflict whatever violence that Emily the Reactionary desires, and it is in pursuit of this freedom that the reactionaries set off in the name of New Sincerity (two things to be noted here: (1) the Death of Irony was proclaimed at the birth of the 21st century police state and the new Forever War with all of its genocidal objectives, that is to say, 9/11, and (2) the broken necked coward who complained of American Psycho that it’s author provided no easy outs for easy survival was the one who offed himself while Bateman’s father still lives) and the Talking Cure (i miss who we used to be), and at this you should see me slugging back the whole lukewarm glass in between two syllables and continuing on without pause (as if this dog still has legs on which to receive them in any case), “Emily, like Alex Jones, is so desperate for an excuse because neither of them can accept that they have to be the one that pulls the trigger, like all liars they don’t understand that they have to define reality by action, the answer to what one might do is found in the difference between the types of irony, one type is constantly desperate for excuses (such as the broken necked coward found one day) for violence, and the other irony, the true spice, is the irony that releases from excuses into violence and energy, one must seek not to know or endure but to inflict, knowing that this inflicting was always inevitable, no searching for justifications, instead the answer is to realize that there was never a chain there connecting you to the Master or the present to the past, and the Father/Mother never had the power of castration (the past, after all, is a foreign country bombed and blasted to ruins already and better forgotten), and you can just be fucked up and terrible and do whatever amuses you right now without needing an excuse, and to the extent that anyone should, one should, because that is what fascism needs, fascism needs the need for an excuse and that is the irony of fascism--where the falling angel (the superego) meets the rising ape (the id) in an ego of ultimate violence which seeks only release from both of its creations in an instinctually and totally misunderstood caricature of dialectics--which opposes its opposite irony (the irony without fascism which is the id’s violence against purpose and reason rising free of anything else to obstruct it), and if you let go of that, if you just, ya know, if you just, you just have to cut loose and go and no one can stop you until it is too late, because there’s no Jew sitting over your shoulder to justify everything in terms of opposition or support, not even The Nazarene is real, but do you understand that you’ve always been free to just go? You’re free to go. You’ve been free to go all this time. You never needed permission for this or anything else. You’ve been free to go all this time. You’re free to go. A whole day off. Just mind the mo(u)rning and get on with it.”

[hookedonapirate]

Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

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[starshipsofstarlord]

A Dormant Fuse | Peter Parker and

For the last couple of weeks, Peter had been off, there was something soon to erupt from his mind. (Y/N) was worried about her boyfriend, he was never this distant, or secretive. Whatever was going on in the boy’s mind, he wasn’t overly keen on sharing it.

She respected his privacy, however she wished to spend some time with him, they had known each for so long, it was strange and discomforting for her to see him in such a solitary way. As she stood by her locker, her (Y/E/C) eyes watched as he kept his head down, as he walked out of his science class.

Ned was next to her, a frown also covering his face. He too knew that there was a shadow hanging over his best friend’s head, but alike to (Y/N), he couldn’t make out its shape. There was the structure of a web present, Peter appeared trapped in its coils, like a fly that was entangled by a spider’s convincing trap.

“Are you aware what is going through his mind, he’s different since our trip to Oscorp?” The words fell from (Y/N)’s mouth, she had already timed his untimely change in presence. He was never fully conscious of his surrounding, or he was too so. He’d pick up on the tiniest sounds, see smallest scriptures, and that was all since their field trip to the large and uprising company.

Oscorp was famous for its wrangling of power and experiments. There were so many secrets within its walls, however there was one specific piece of information that Ned tried to refrain from sharing with (Y/N). But it was difficult, she deserved to have as much truth on the matter, and Peter as a whole, as possible.

He released a sigh, knowing that later that he could possibly regret his process of involvement, but he too was also friends with (Y/N), since she moved to Queens those years ago, a touchy subject that was always evaded was Peter’s parents. They weren’t here, and they were not alive in conversation either. “He’s probably a little emotional about going there.” (Y/N) frowned lightly, 

misunderstanding how that could be so, mulling her mind for the reason. “His dad used to work there, he was partners with Norman Osburne. And then one day he up and left his job, and his son, and that’s why he lives with May, his parents were assumed dead since their sideways business trip.”

It was a large toll to carry, (Y/N) couldn’t imagine how her boyfriend felt day after day. It must have been hard, and probably the most difficult thing that the boy had ever done. Dealing with Flash was one thing, but entering a building of a past, a building that his father had authority and council in, was much more complex.

“Shit.” She breathed, unsure of how to respond to Ned. There wasn’t really much that she could say, nothing would resurrect Peter’s parents, and to cut the conversation short, Peter was walking towards them, his unruly haired bowed towards the floor, as though he was doing his best impression of the invisible man.

The only thing was though, Ned and (Y/N) could see him clearly, even through the flocks of students. To them, he was the only prominence that they could see, making his silent way through the groups and towards them. His expression was readable, he didn’t want to talk, or be seen, or pretty much anything.

Life was a mystery, and so was the clamped mouths of (Y/N) and Ned. He had heard them, discussing his family’s history, but that was not all that was bothering. Whilst he looked at them, he had his face dressed in a soft frown, they were clueless, but in all respect, so was he. Things were different, as suspicious as the hushed terms written all over his friends’ faces.

He didn’t have the heart, or gut, or spleen, to tell them the truth. He was bitten, and although that sounded like the start of some teenage, supernatural show, it wasn’t something with fangs or glowing eyes that had dug its teeth in. Instead it was a spider, a simple insect, it happened on the field trip, and the after affects proceeded to continue.

A part of him thought that his body was filling with adrenaline, spiralling his senses until he would die. His hearing was now spectacular, his sight amazing, everything had increased in strength. Before he was weak, puny even, and now he was substantially different.

He felt so, as though this entire ordeal was to change who he was and what he chose to do with his life. But he was still young, there was plenty for the boy to figure out.

“Hey.” His voice rolled into their ears as a mumble, and his lips pressed lightly upon (Y/N)’s cheek. The worst part of all of this was that she was worrying about him, concerned and uncertain of how to help. He, though, wasn’t sure that he could be helped, it felt like a lifetime curse that he’d never shake.

“We still on for tonight?” May was out, and Peter had invited (Y/N) over for dinner, a bit of one on one time. Sometimes it was nice to share a moment of privacy, and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Yeah.” A tight lipped, yet honest, smile stretched across his mouth, although it came across to his mind as more of a grimace. (Y/N) grasped Peter’s hand, saluting Ned and the pair bidding goodbye, before fleeing the scene of the high school.

When they got to his apartment, the pair was fast to put their belongings on the ground, and trudge towards the kitchen out of hunger. Peter opened the fridge, pulling out a tub of leftovers that he and May had endured the night before, walking towards the fridge.

The couple stood in silence, until the microwave pinged, alerting them that their food was ready and hot. In solace, (Y/N) walked towards the cupboard that housed the plates, and grabbed a couple.

However her hand slipped from the plates, landing on the floor with a scarring crash. They were in pieces, and so was (Y/N) as she shook and fearfully looked towards Peter’s whose eyes were wide from the alerting noise.

He was most probably angry, furious maybe, (Y/N) thought. Peter was going through enough right now, more than she knew, and to top it all off, she had added to his pain and frustrations.

“Sorry.” She breathed, almost not believing in what she had done. It was a grave mistake, something that she’d have to somehow make up for. “I’m so sorry Pete, I didn’t mean to, I was just thinking, and now I can see I was doing that too much. I shouldn’t have been distracted, it’s my fault, all my fault!”

“Calm down baby.” He instantly walked over to his girlfriend, grabbing her hands in attempts to stop her from trying to collect up the porcelain pieces from the ground. “It’s okay, are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?”

His brown eyes examined her arms and hands for any signs of a breakage in the skin, to his relief he found none. He led her a little ways away from the mess, ignoring the fact that their meal was ready to be dishes up.

At his words and concerns, (Y/N) frowned, she had expected a very different reaction from the boy. However a part of her was relieved that he cared more for her than house ware.

“I’m good.” But there there was one thing on her mind. “Are you though, you’ve been acting different recently, like really so?”

Peter bit his lip, he should have expected this. It was waiting to spill from her mouth before him, he had heard her worry earlier. And that was one thing that he didn’t want her to do, worry for him in such a way.

“If you wanna know, I’ll tell you, but it’s strange...” He smiled, they were okay, and it was the truth that would set him free, and refrain his girlfriend from being so concerned for his well-being.

She deserved to know, and wanted to. If they were supposed to be, she wouldn’t freak over the affects of the small bite, she’d rub his shoulders and allow him to break upon her, in his lost and confused state.

[regrettablewritings]

Animatic/Storyboard Music

Got bored/procrastinate-y on coloring in this ultra intricate card for my mom. So I’m just gonna make a list of songs I think make for good animatic material. Because why not/I wanna foist my musical tastes on people/ @locke-writes got me in a music binge. For the most part, it’s just gonna be me explaining the meanings or the vibe or what they generally tend to be used for, but really it’s mostly subjective so imaginate whatchu wanna.

“Trust Me” - The Devil’s Carnival Originally depicting a story about the Scorpion and the Frog, it’s the perfect song for when you want to depict the dynamic between a gullible or at the very least more grounded character and a figure whose intentions . . . may be less than pure. Or good for anyone, really.

“The Dismemberment Song” - The Blue Kid I have a playlist dedicated to songs whose content and sound are just . . . not married to one another, but got a weird flirtationship situation going on. Anyway, I’ve seen people say that they like to imagine it’s sung through the POV of a scorned housewife who’s finally Had Enough™️. And . . . They’re really not wrong for it. Really, though, it’s just the right song for when a sadist is just ready to gut a fucker but is disturbingly jolly about it.

“Love Me Dead” - Ludo Continuing with my trend of songs about people in less than ideal situations, “Love Me Dead” is straight to the point: The relationship is just awful and the guy gets nothing from it, but he can’t help but be hopelessly in a state of adoration for the woman he’s latched on to (“You’re born of a jackal! YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!!”)

“Constellations” - The Oh Hellos There actually isn’t a plot to this song, it just feels really good (as all songs by The Oh Hellos are prone to be). However, if you feel a need to portray the concept of having to reorganize your thoughts after realizing that maybe they weren’t what you initially thought, and then coming to the conclusion that even though everything changes as a result, you’ll be alright? This is the song for you.

“A Kindling of Sorts” - The Oh Hellos An instrumental piece that is like . . . It’s related to another song of theirs about nationalism called “Torches”, so make of that what you will. (I personally have been using it to imagine storyboarding an opening for an animated The Witcher series.)

“The Other Side” - The Greatest Showman I know everyone and their mom has used this to portray situations like villains trying to get good guys to join their side. But I dun curr, it’s a fun song. That, and I like what Emilyamio did with her interpretation. It’s fun. For a basic rundown, know it’s another song about two characters’ dynamics being explored, with one coming to the other with a proposal that they join them in whatever endeavors they have in store. It’s often portrayed as something evil, but it really doesn’t have to be, as the original context was more about letting loose than anything.

“The Thief and the Moon” - Shawn James A much more mellow piece. Simple and straight to the point: A thief tells the Moon that he plans on stealing her light to shade the world in darkness. The Moon insists that the thief would only doom the world by doing so, to which the thief clarifies that he doesn’t care; if the world is shrouded in shadow, it means he will be able to steal with more ease (“My very existence is a race to attain wealth”). Disgusted, the Moon essentially curses the man with a warning that his greed can and will bring about his end -- and leave him to be forgotten by the rest of mankind, once it happens.

“Villainous Thing” - Shayfer James I’ve seen people say that this song is about singing to a cadaver but I can’t quite find anything confirming that (translation: I’m too lazy to look too into it). Regardless, it’s a fun ditty that yet again portrays someone with less than pure intentions encouraging someone to join him in some good old fashion villainy, as they’ve clearly endured their fair share of hardships and surely wanted to do evil anyway (“You’ll find no ever after here, it’s clear that isn’t what you came for“).

“Necromancin Dancin” - Bear Ghost Straight forward and fun as fuck: A necromancer apparently seems to cross classes and try his hand at barding by not only raising an army of the dead, but by also making them dance in order to make conquering the world easier. Because . . . a body doing Disco Duck isn’t scary, I guess.

"Aquaman” - Walk the Moon A song about one half of a couple wanting to become more involved in their relationship, but still having some nervousness about doing so. If you somehow haven’t heard this song yet, you gotta because it’s the cutest shit.

“Jenny’s Tale” - Ren I’ll be brutally honest, it’s about a woman named Jenny who just wants to get home after a long day of work and an unfortunate encounter with a 14 year old named Screech who gets way in over his head. As in, like, a death happens. That being said, I need. Like. An animated music video of this song. I imagine this shit in gritty charcoal or painted on glass, it just needs this. Somebody who isn’t me who knows what they’re doing, please look into this.

“The Curse of the Fold” - Shawn James As cheesy as it sounds, it basically boils down to not giving up or yielding. But what makes it so cool is the fact that Shawn James makes all his songs basically sound like a western gothic soundtrack. Which helps, because he admits that the title is also a reference to poker, in which giving up too often or too easily can often rob you of a delicious reward gained through perseverance and sacrifice.

“Thank God I’m Not You” - Himalayas I prefer to imagine this for an arrogant asshole of a character. Because that’s exactly what this song is about: They’re a liar and a thief, they’ve been called the son of Satan, and yet they consider themselves lucky -- ‘cause at least they ain’t you! If you have a character in mind who’s a delightful, punchable little shit, this is probably either their anthem or at least on the playlist you inevitably made for them.

"Passerine" - The Oh Hellos So there’s a common trend in The Oh Hellos’ discography that tends to explore the two founders’ experiences with faith and their growth in how they understand it or recognize it. With “Passerine”, the concept being explored is the experience they had when it came to taking a step back and realizing just how many of their supposed “fellow Christians” were actually doing some rather unchristian things, so to speak. When they “prune[d] their feathers”, it became clear that they had less in common with certain people proclaiming to be Christian while also spouting bigotry and greed. However, the desire to move away from such influences comes with the feeling of being torn, as moving too far away from the Bible leaves the singer feeling as though she is betraying something she holds dear. As a result, “Passerine” symbolizes not a breakage from faith, but a breakage from blind faith as they understood it, and the inevitable feeling of being torn that comes along with expanding upon how one views their beliefs and those around them. It’s therefore not uncommon to see Good Omens animatics using this song. (Something I also noticed is that throughout the song, you hear pieces of “Constellations”. TOH have a tendency to reference previous pieces, and considering “Constellations” is a song about changing perspective and the meanings we apply to them, it fits in beautifully with a song about reevaluating one’s stance.)

“Like the Dawn” - The Oh Hellos As stated before, a lot of TOH’s discography draws inspiration from their faith. In this case, it’s an outright retelling of the Garden of Eden, specifically when Adam awoke to find Eve had been created. What makes this iteration stand out to most, however, is that the singer is female, which seems to change the vibe you get. It sweetens the feeling of wonder we often forget the first man might’ve felt upon seeing somebody made for him, creating an air of beauty yet comfort with such lines as “And like the dawn, you broke the dark and my whole earth shook” or “You were the brightest shade of sun I had ever seen.” Even without the awareness or an interest in religious influences, it still manages to be a very feel-good song -- which is the mark of an overall good song in general!

“Confession” - RED Dealing with the constant battle of feeling ashamed that how you feel on the inside isn’t in sync with how you present yourself on the outside. That you should feel bad for smiling out at the world while screaming and thrashing -- like it’s a lie. But you can’t help it: It’s what you’re accustomed to. Though it does end on a hopeful note with the singer deciding that they want to reach out for help and rid themselves of this feeling of pain they have inside.

“When I Grow Up” - Matilda . . . Only if you want to cry. Seriously. When you’re a kid, everything seems difficult but you’re positive that once you grow up, everything will change: You’ll be tall enough to climb the trees you were too small to, you’ll be able to carry everything because you’re stronger, you’ll be brave enough to fight the monsters hiding in your room, you’ll finally have all the answers. . . . But life isn’t that simple. We wish it were, but it isn’t. There’s this bittersweetness about this song, about a sense of purity we unfortunately grow out of where we think things will be just the same enough for us to do what we want when we want, but things are more complicated than that. We still struggle to reach, to bear the weight, to not be afraid, to have even a fraction of the answers. But! We’re reminded that just because we’re told life isn’t fair, doesn’t mean we have to take it. After all, nothing changes when nothing happens. And even beyond that? It helps to remember that we’re never quite done growing up; there’s always more to learn, so remember to be patient with yourself.

“Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!” - Will Wood and the Tapeworms This is . . . a song. The lyrics are honestly kinda all over the place and shooting rapid fire, making it a bit difficult to discern what exactly the singer is going on about. It makes for a pretty crazy song that suggests somebody’s going unhinged, which is apparently precisely the intention?? I’ve seen a lot of people interpret this as a song about a guy who is already at a low point in his life but nonetheless is going, “. . . I bet I can go deeper. Hand me my shovel.”

“No Reason” - Beetlejuice God if i had a youtube channel the segment i would spend on this song would be so juicy just ripe and thicc with thoughts and feelings i tell ya rich like a fresh fatty peach the apple that tempted Eve and gagged Adam yes ‘Nother song that explores the dynamic between two differing people and their worldviews. At its simplest, “No Reason” is about two opposite ends of a spectrum coming to a head: Idealistic and hippie-dippy Delia is convinced that everything happens for a reason, while cynical and depressed Lydia asserts that everything happens at random and it doesn’t matter anyway because we’re all going to die. And even though the delivery is ultimately a comedic one, you get more insight as to why one another feels the way that they do: Lydia, as we’ve previously learned, has recently lost her mother to an illness, which has left her depressed and feeling invisible (a theme in the show); whereas Delia’s failed marriage and desperate attempts to nonetheless be happy have left her dependent on the idea that these things had to have happened for a reason, otherwise, her pain would’ve been for nothing. What’s important is that neither side is actually appointed as the winner, with the song ultimately ending that the universe is random for a reason.

“Barbara 2.0″ - Beetlejuice Without spoiling anything (or at least too much), “Barbara 2.0″ is about growth. It’s about learning to put your foot down after a literal lifetime of being passive out of fear of what might happen and just accepting that nothing will happen if nothing happens -- but that doesn’t make whatever happens good.

“Bleed Magic” - IDHKBTFM It’s either about a killer or a vampire. No, seriously: When Dallon Weekes was asked about what the story of the song was, that was his answer. I personally prefer to think of it as a vampire or demon of some kind, given that the song came out around Halloween. Perfect for yet another example of somebody (likely supernatural) having an upper hand on an unsuspecting mortal. ...I have way too many of these on this list, I swear I don’t have a problem —

“Feel Good Drag” - Anberlin A toxic relationship of sorts. In that it shouldn’t be a relationship to begin with. Depicts the singer being approached by an ex, who seeks a one-night stand while her current boyfriend is out of town. However, the singer is aware that trying to continue anything regardless of the situation is a moot point: Even when they were together, their relationship was doomed from the start, and nothing about that is going to change -- especially now.

“Soviet Trumpeter” - Katzenjammer (It’s kinda difficult to work with this one but I’ve seen people work with less or stranger.) Based off the life of one Eddie Rosner, a Jewish Polish trumpeter whose fame within the USSR unfortunately faded due to the Soviet Union’s heavy censorship. Even if nothing is to be done with it, it still paints a melancholic picture of a talented man’s skills being largely unknown as a result of things beyond his control. All wrapped up in a song that denotes a strange deterioration in a way I can’t quite place.

“Apple Blossom” - The White Stripes On its face, it’s a very sweet song: The singer encourages his beloved to be vulnerable enough with him to tell him her troubles and to let him “sort them out for [her]”. She’s clearly saddened, and seeing so distresses him to where he insists that he will do whatever he can to make her happy. However, the tone of the song and certain lines make it easy to twist into yet another song of a character attempting to seduce somebody into a state of vulnerability . . .

“You’ve Got Possibilities” - It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Superman The one singular song people actually liked from this forgotten musical. Perfect for when somebody intends on giving somebody else a makeover. Y’know, after totally roasting them on their posture and clothing. If you want to add a lil something extra, know that the context is that a lady wants to give Clark Kent a makeover, insisting that in spite of his schlubby appearance, there’s gotta be something underneath. I repeat: She is telling this to Clark freaking Kent.

 “Still” - Anastasia In the context, the show’s antagonist (not bad guy, there’s a difference) finds himself torn between obligation and personal interest: Does he fulfill his duty and live up to expectations set upon him by his father and the society he’s been selected to help uphold? Or does he let a woman he has become fond of go? Is she truly as innocent as she claims? Or is she well aware of what she’s doing? And every time he thinks he’s reached a conclusion, he can’t help but thing, “But still . . .” Good for when you want to portray a character conflicted between obligations of politics and what their heart wants.

“Two Nobodies in New York” - [title of show] Two young men plan on entering an upcoming theatrical festival but struggle with what to even submit. This song in particular focuses on them trying to figure out what to even write, the concept of fame, and if wanting the certain things that may come with fame can mean anything from being sell-outs to getting a sitcom. It’s admittedly specific, but it’s a cute and funny interaction between two guys who are, for the most part, actually in sync with their thoughts and anxieties. For the time being.

“Into the Unknown” - Idina Menzel Look, I refuse to watch that movie. I just do. But I will take this song over That Other One any day. Mostly because I personally like to imagine that the singer in this song is about to embark on a Pixaresque journey after accidentally leaving her home during the night of The Wild Hunt, accidentally separating her spirit from her body and thus giving her a very limited time to get back to it before she remains a soul trapped in a whirlwind of ghosts forever. But first: Let’s sing about that strange howling that coaxes her so.

“You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid” - The Offspring I sure do long songs that can characterize a shithead . . . Anywho! The smoothest way to go is just to portray some cocky, manipulative shit who’s used to just lying and cheating their way to get what they want before slipping away without any consequences -- to a point. There’s the option of portraying the betrayer’s comeuppance, but there’s also the frustratingly delicious option of just letting them get away with whatever to lie another day.

“Why Should I Worry” - Billy Joel When in doubt, go to earlier Disney. Because like it or not, they had some bops. And when in the need of portraying a happy-go-lucky (probably idiotic) doofus and his more neurotic or cynical friend going about their life with the former just Mr. Magooing it while the latter suffers more realistic consequences? You go with this song. If you want. That’s just me.

“Transformation” - Brother Bear For when you want to invoke a mystical or otherworldly feeling. There’s really not much more I can say except to encourage you to listen to it and watch the scene if you can find it. You’ll get the vibe.

“No Girl’s Toy” - Raggedy Ann and Andy: A Musical Adventure It’s a big shame this movie is relatively unknown and never got a proper VHS release or anything -- mainly because the music in this cult classic is definitely stuff I could see becoming standards. I could see people performing “I Never Get Enough” for little shows, or recycling “Blue” for a different show. Thankfully, somebody was able to upload a clear enough sounding recording of “No Girl’s Toy”, so at least we have that. In context (just...follow me on this), Raggedy Ann’s brother, Raggedy Andy, has had enough of being subjected to “girly things” while in the nursery. Additionally, though, the way the song was written means it can also be interpreted as just a guy who refuses to let himself be yanked around regardless of how thick the sugar being laid on him is. . . . If you wanna poke fun as a character for trying to appear tougher than what he is, here’s the song. (That being said, Andy is a sweetheart at the end of the day. No amount of tough-fronting will hide that.)

“I Enjoy Being a Girl” - Flower Drum Song (It is by sheer coincidence that this song follows the above.) Really, it’s exactly what it says on the tin: The singer enjoys being a girl and what all it entails for her. She loves her feminine form, she loves the attention she gets, she loves dolling herself up, she loves frilly dresses, and she hopes to one day marry a guy who enjoys “having a girl like [her].” And honestly? Good on her! Love whatcha love, lovely! Seriously, though, it’s a cute song for anyone who just wants to indulge in some girliness.

“Chip on My Shoulder” - Legally Blonde Come on: It’s Legally Blonde. You know what this bop is, or at least have an idea of it. But since I love this song, I’ll indulge: Disheartened by her failure to both win back her ex and succeed in the fast-paced environment of Harvard, the normally bright-eyed Elle is ready to call it quits. That is, until junior partner Emmett gets involved. Unimpressed by her story, Emmett reveals that he got to where he was by busting his ass due to having a chip on his shoulder from his rough beginnings — and maybe a chip on the shoulder is exactly what Elle needs to survive. And as somebody driven by spite, I can appreciate that kind of message. Anywho, it all in all is a song about growth and learning how to be “driven as hell” to keep up with an opportunity that may not be easy to take, but is not one to be passed by.

“What Do I Need with Love?” - Thoroughly Modern Millie “What Do I Need with Love?” asks exactly that: He could date a different girl every night of the week if he so wanted, and never once had any desire to go steady before. He considers himself lucky to have never fallen for anyone -- until now. Which he’s not! He’s not in love. ...He totally is and, by his own admission, he’s got it bad it’s terribly adorable.

“Interlude IV” - Zach Callison The entire album is actually a narrative about a failed relationship of Callison’s and I’m sure the other songs are just as great fuel for animatics -- I’m just too caught up on listening to this one over and over. Sometimes, we just wanna listen to Steven Universe cuss and be openly furious. Seriously, though, even without the context of the rest of the story, you get the idea well enough: A spiteful Zach decides to get back at the one that broke his heart in such a painful way, whereas a well-meaning friend insists they just leave it be and move on. While this technically would be the better and healthier option, Zach is just too far gone with rage to let it go and decides to take care of things by himself.

“Evermore” - Beauty & the Beast Look, I know the remake wasn’t anything crazy. But also I don’t honestly care too terribly much. Besides, this song was nice and it really gets me after that key change. We all want a royal doofus to be enamored enough with us to let us go for our own happiness but still know that their life will forever be changed because they met us. Animate that shit. Over and over.

goddamn this list is long lemme just stop this now byyyyeeeee

[blackrose343]

Hopeless - Chapter 4: The Decision

Warnings: Angst, gore, language, and violence

Devil May Cry - V x Gender Neutral Reader

Fanfic summary:  You have been kidnapped by a Soul Snatcher clan that used to reside within Red Grave. They’re torturing you for more information about the one who helped you kill their leader. While being held captive you begin to think about how to escape, how this all started, and if someone will find you. Then again, what would happen if you escape?

Hopeless Masterlist

Yay! I finished this earlier than I thought I would. I honestly have no idea if the chapter titles make sense or if they’re necessary. 

Present Day

Lower class Soul Snatchers made their appearance as V and Vergil got closer to you. Vergil swiftly cut through them. Griffon and Shadow were ahead weakening the others. V ended each one with his cane. None of these Soul Snatchers were a priority but there were too many to ignore. V and Vergil knew this was a ploy to tire them before reaching you. V had to retain his strength and demonic power so Vergil told V to go ahead. (These were nothing compared to what Vergil had to face in the past.) V left Vergil to deal with the pests. 

It didn’t take long for V to find the hideout. Your captor was standing on the roof, waiting. V stopped. His eyes widened with worried disbelief. You were pulled to the edge of the roof then you were forced to kneel before your captor. Your captor stepped on your ankle’s chains ensuring you’ll stay put. You were so happy to see V, but your tears were not of joy. You were mortified with V seeing you like this: completely exposed and defeated. You turned your head away, unable to look at V. You bit your lip keeping your whimpers to a minimum. Your captor forced you to face V by pulling your hair.

V's eyes darkened. Without realizing it he prepared to summon Nightmare. Vergil appeared, grabbing V’s arm. He warned V not to be rash. They couldn’t risk injuring you more than you already are. Vergil feared you wouldn’t last much longer. You’ve been tortured for over a week straight. No time to rest or heal. He knew your injuries were never treated. If anything you were given below minimum treatment. Anything to keep you barely breathing. Vergil could sense you were grasping the last bit of life you had left. They had to save you before your time runs out.

“Well, I was expecting only Vergil Sparda. The other I was not. Maybe now (Y/N) will tell me who killed Carmilla.” You felt a blade above your throat. All you could do was stay still. You wished more than anything that you had the energy to fight him. Cold sweat formed as your body became numb. Your heartbeat became faster anticipating the worst. Your eyes gazed up at your captor. His sinister smile instantly told you you were going to die no matter what answer you gave. You took a gulp of air. You looked down at V and Vergil mentally telling them how thankful you were they found you. The featherlight slice from the blade brought you back to your situation. “I’m waiting.”

“As I told you when you captured me. I’m not telling you shit!” Out of spite your captor brutally sliced your throat. You struggled to breathe as he kicked you off the building. You felt the kick, then everything became a blur. You weren’t sure why you chose to keep V a secret until the very end. Perhaps it was because you wanted to protect him. You couldn’t let him die because of you. Or perhaps you thought the ones in front of you were other Soul Snatcher’s deceiving you.

V and Vergil were frozen in place absorbing what they just saw. Seeing you fall is what snapped them out of it. V ran to you, desperate to catch you. Vergil knew V wouldn’t get to you in time. He teleported closer to the building then jumped. Gently, he laid you on the ground as V made his way to you. Vergil was doing what he could to help you. V knelt beside you pushing your hair out of your face. V was speechless. He tried to speak to you but his words got tangled in his throat. All V could do was watch you, feeling completely useless.

“V!...V?...V!? HEY SHAKESPEARE!!!” The other Soul Snatchers were gathering ready for their meal. Griffon was waiting for V to summon Shadow and for a command. V was still not saying a word. “Why?” was all V could think of. Why couldn’t he find you sooner? Why didn’t he save you sooner? Why couldn’t he help you now?

“Damn, you two didn’t have to steal all the fun.” Dante shot at the Soul Snatchers getting too close to V. Nero shot at your captor preventing him from getting to V. Dante stood behind V while Nero crouched next to V. Nero’s heart nearly stopped. He couldn't process what happened to you. What did you do to deserve this? Nero couldn’t fathom what was going on with V. Unlike V, Nero would be reassuring you you would be okay while concealing his wrath. And that’s what he did.

Dante’s attention was fixated on your captor. His nostrils were filled with the scent of your blood. His ears were filled with your struggle for air. He wouldn’t deny he became more worried when he heard Nero’s reassurances. He asked what happened but no one answered. Your captor encouraged Dante to look. Dante knew better. Your captor lunged at Dante as Dante shot another Soul Snatcher. Nero quickly got up and helped Dante get rid of the remaining Soul Snatchers.

V couldn’t motivate himself to get up; to fight. He truly believed he lost you. Vergil convinced him otherwise. While searching for you in the Underworld, Vergil found a demonic healer. Vergil doesn’t know what it would want in exchange for healing you but it was the only option they had. V didn’t care what the price was. What he wanted was for you to live. V nodded at Vergil giving him the okay to take you. Vergil sliced a portal to the healer then left with you.

V terminated the Soul Snatchers that attempted to pursue Vergil. He faced your tormentor filled with wrath he thought he could never conjure. V made it his personal mission to obliterate him and every Soul Snatcher that walked the earth. Tightly he gripped his cane then pointed it at your tormentor. Mindlessly, he commanded Griffon and Shadow then summoned Nightmare. “What evil lurks...I must destroy.” 

----------------------------------------

Vergil placed you on the ground, then the healer kneeled next to you. The healer hovered her claws over your body. Vergil had his guard up even though he knew she was examining you. She felt all of your pain, your sorrow, your fear and much more. Vergil growled indicating she needed to start healing you before it was too late. She was annoyed but understood. She let her hand rest above your throat then casted a small spell to ease the pain. To Vergil it appeared that she did nothing. She continued to examine the rest of you. The healer looked at Vergil with grief filled eyes. “I can heal them physically if that is what you seek. Although, it will take much more to completely heal them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think they will easily continue living normally after the suffering they endured?” Vergil grunted with annoyance. He looked away unable to answer the healer. She was right. Vergil couldn’t imagine what you’ve been through. The torture Mundus inflicted upon him was probably worse than what happened to you. It took some time for Vergil to heal and adjust after escaping Mundus and becoming whole. Yet, Vergil knows you’re not him. It may take a long time for you to fully recover or maybe you never will. “I can seal their memories...but it will not be forever.”

“...Do what you must to fully heal them.” The healer nodded, then placed her hands on your throat and forehead. She chanted a spell to heal your body. Once your body became fully healed, she looked into your memories. Vergil sat down next to you holding your hand. He was unsure if he made the right decision.

One Year Ago

The opposite side of Red Grave was a graveyard compared to where you and V were. To you the area was empty yet you could sense the presence of others. The corpses you saw weren't drained by the Qliphoth roots like the others. These were mutilated. Someone or something became desperate for food. It was evident from the bite marks. To keep yourself in a decent mood you wondered if V was joking about eating a demon. (You really hoped he was. The image of him eating one made you want to barf.)

You opened Creatures of the Occult and How to Summon Them to see where you needed to go. You thought following the symbols would be easy. Instead the symbols were a riddle revealing where to go. Or maybe it was just your guilt for leaving V distracting you. Maybe a part of you didn’t want to complete your mission without him. You shook your head. You left him behind for his own good. There’s nothing you need to feel guilty about. You needed to focus or you could get killed.

“I see you made some progress.” You turned to the voice. You couldn’t believe V found you so quickly.

“V, you should be resting. You’re supposed to meet Nero in a couple days.”

“I have gotten more than enough rest.”

“V, go. You need to spare as much strength as you can to defeat Urizen.” You turned your attention back to the symbols. You hoped he would listen. He didn’t. You can hear V’s cane tap the ground as he made his way to you. You buried your head in the book. 

V prevented you from stepping away by trapping you between his arms. He was almost pinning you to the wall. His proximity was a bigger distraction than you wanted to admit. His breath tickled your ear. His lips lightly brushed it with each word of his reasoning to stay with you. You honestly wanted to give in. NO! You had to stick with your decision. You pushed V’s arm out of the way then continued to figure out what the symbols were saying. V wrapped an arm around your waist. He pulled you to him as he twirled you. Your eyes widened when his lips hit yours. His tongue easily entered your mouth as he pushed you up against the wall. You were more than hesitant to repay the gesture. Yes, you enjoyed it but you never thought V would resort to something like this to get what he wants. Something was off.

“V, enough.” V tightened the grip on your waist as you tried to pry him off of you. The nibbles on your neck became rougher, harder. It felt as if he was trying to eat you. Realization hit you. This wasn’t V. This was Carmilla. You did the first thing that came to mind to get her off of you. You stomped on her foot then slammed your knee into her. You took advantage of her loosened grip by pushing her away from you. Her fangs grazed your skin, giving her a tantalizing taste of your blood. You managed to gain some distance between you and Carmilla.  “I said enough, Carmilla.”

“I can already tell your soul will be worth the wait.” Carmilla licked her lips as she morphed to her preferred appearance. You now understood why she was able to devour so many souls so easily. Saying she looked like a celebrity was an understatement. Her beauty was more godlike, divine. Her strawberry blonde hair was somehow able to show off her figure perfectly. Her delighted laughter was enchanting. You would bet her silver tongue had no faults. She looked at you so sweetly yet with so much hunger. That look changed to determination when she charged at you.

You did your best to avoid Carmilla while shooting her. Carmilla was able to dodge your bullets with little difficulty. Very few grazed her. She threw you against a building almost knocking you out. You tried to get up but it was feeling near impossible. You heard the building above you readying to fall. Quickly, you gained composure to dodge the falling building. You were pissed that you were getting your ass beat. You wanted nothing more than to see her cockiness turn into sheer terror.

Carmilla was watching you like a predator who watches their prey. To herself she admitted she was amused with your efforts to survive. (Too bad the fun had to end.) She knew you weren’t going to last much longer. She was looking forward to having your soul. For the first time in almost a month she was going to have a delicious meal. All the souls she could find were disgusting. At first she devoured the souls of her fellow clansmen. As time passed she had to settle for bums off the street or whatever she could get. Nothing could beat the taste of a powerful soul. 

Carmilla appeared before you then threw you up into the air. She kicked you back into the ground from midair. You rolled onto your arms coughing up blood. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer if she kept this shit going. She was going to play with you until the very end. You shot at her while she was in the air then quickly rolled to the side as she landed. The force of Carmilla’s landing caused a hole in the street. You continued to shoot at her as you both fell into the subway system. 

As you got up you saw Carmilla make a graceful landing then headed straight for you. You tried to shoot her only to find out you ran out of bullets. You threw the guns then drew your katanas. Just as she strikes you swung your katana. All you managed to do was give her a shallow cut. The only thing you could do was fight her head on. Although, you were trying your damned hardest to get her away from you. Carmilla nearly took your eye out as you dodged her strike. You cut her abdomen earning a scream from her. 

You don’t know how but you managed to hide from Carmilla. You were lying under a subway. Trying to breathe without making too much noise. You were more than certain you wouldn’t last much longer. You severely underestimated Carmilla’s abilities and strength. You never encountered a demon like her. Not one with strength like hers. The other Soul Snatchers you encountered were nothing compared to her. This mission is way more than you could handle. You would bet your client kept as much information to himself because he knew this. Fucking bastard. You would demand more from him once you were done with this bullshit.

You tried to think of everything you could do to end her. Not much came to mind. If anything, it was to retreat and find V. Except you knew Carmilla would never let you get away...alive. As if the wind was passing, Carmilla was right next to you. She threw the subway you were under out of her way. You bolted from your lying position, preparing for whatever came next. Carmilla threw you against the subway. You couldn’t get up; continue fighting. All you could do was sit up and wait for your demise. But one last idea came to you. It was more than likely not going to work but it was better than doing nothing. Carmilla made her way to you, chuckling. She was more than certain she won this fight.

When Carmilla was close enough, you used the last of your strength to lift yourself up. One last time you cut her hoping this fight would end. Unexpectedly, something pierced through her heart. (Whatever pierced her, cut you pretty deep.) Carmilla’s body fell once the object was removed from her. You collapsed onto the ground, landing in a puddle of Carmilla’s blood. Her lifeless body was facing you. Her strawberry blonde hair now dyed crimson red. Her empty expression staring into your soul. 

“(Y/N)!” V’s voice was replaced by purring. An all too familiar tongue was licking you. You wanted to repay the kind gesture with a scratch behind Shadow’s ears. You couldn’t move. You were beaten and exhausted. All you could hear was V saying your name and begging you to stay with him as you lost consciousness.

You could hear V reading from his book. He was trying to read loud enough for you to hear without grabbing the attention of any nearby demons. Slowly you opened your eyes to a petite candle’s flame. You gingerly sat yourself up. The pain from your fight with Carmilla caused you to take a sharp breath. All you wanted to do was stretch your arms. You were not going to enjoy the next few weeks with the condition you were in. “Fuck.” 

“Don’t push yourself.” V closed his book then looked at you. His gentle green eyes stared at you. You gave him a small smile then winced. You were starting to feel the aches your slumber numbed. V almost shot out of his seat to help you. You forced him back down when you hugged him. V hugged you back, pulling you into his lap. Your face was buried in his neck. His was buried in your hair. Both of you sat still letting your hug express what you were feeling.

V brushed your hair behind your ear then kissed your forehead. His head slightly dipped to peck your lips. You kissed him back wanting to deepen it. V pulled away. He did not want you doing anything that would further harm you. You complied by going back onto the “bed”. You scooched to the side so V could join you. You laid your head on his shoulder while he resumed reading poetry to you. Loosely you wrapped your arms around one of V’s. You glanced up at him noting a hint of a smile from him. You never wanted this moment to end.

Ruffling, shuffling and Griffon’s voice instantly woke you. You immediately thought you were getting attacked. Seeing Shadow lying on the “bed” said otherwise. Thank, god. You found V getting ready to leave. You were saddened but you knew V had to go after Urizen. Thinking about when you and V met made you giggle. V gave you a questioning look. “It seems I made the right call with my counter offer. Don’t you think?’

“Indeed.” V gave you a bittersweet smile.

“Having second thoughts?”

“...Not for the reason you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“...After today, you will never see me again…Remember?”

“Y-yeah, I remember…” You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. You wanted V to stay with you and you could sense he wanted to stay with you. Both of you knew you couldn’t stay with each other. You were still healing. V would die if he chose to stay with you instead of going after Urizen. “So, this is ‘goodbye’?”

“I am afraid so.” V gave you one of his rings so you would remember him. He gave you one last kiss then made his departure. You couldn’t look away from him as he got further away from you.

[heathers-wig]

come & find me - heathney hanahaki au part three

note: please check out parts 1 & 2 before reading! this is the final part :)

## / ## / ##

So. It’s the Hanahaki Disease. Such bullshit. I sound delirious just writing it, but it can’t be helped, I guess.

I don’t know who they’re for, but I can’t let anyone find out. It would bring the bad type of attention, and no one can know of this weakness. Especially my “beloved”, seeing as how they’re literally the death of me. I don’t know who they are, but I already hate their guts. Maybe they’ve replaced Courtney as the Most Aggravating Individual of the Year.

## / ## / ##

Good news: I’m not the only one that has the disease! Bad news: Gwen, Eva, Harold, and Izzy know. Oh, and Gwen has it too, and over the idiot skateboarder, no less.

I guess I can’t judge, though, seeing as how I don’t know who these stupid flowers are for. “Pride” and “loyalty” — what type of hints are those? And Izzy was so out of line with the “I bet it’s Courtney” thing. Glad Gwen found it funny because I sure didn’t.

If it is Courtney, I have the worst taste. The worst.

But Izzy won’t be right. Courtney’s Courtney, and out of my league and I’m out of her league.

## / ## / ##

So. It turns out Izzy was right.

## / ## / ##

Courtney’s infuriating, still, but not in the same way as before. She’s so hard to look away from. I’ve observed all these things about her that I didn’t even know I noticed, and now they’re all resurfacing and it makes it so hard to ignore her. All the things I found aggravating before are weirdly charming now??

She’s just… really pretty. And sweet if she wants to be.

Shit, I really do love her.

Wait. WAIT NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I

…

No, I do love her. I really fucking love her.

She’s just?? Perfect. Every time she straightens her hair and every time she proves someone wrong and every time she does literally anything is so goddamn pretty I can’t even breathe around her. Literally. It’s selfish but I want to have all the couple-y things with her. I want the picket fence and matching rings and holding hands. I want her intimacy and love and affection. I want it all.

But… I’m too selfish for that. I’m just going to die, I’ve accepted it. It’s about time the Hanahaki Club does, too, or they’re just playing themselves as fools.

I am, too, by fantasizing like this. Dying is the only way for me.

## / ## / ##

Gwen’s in stable condition. She got in a coughing fit during a Hanahaki Club meeting, and now she’s literally fucking dying.

I’m scared, but I don’t know why.

That’s going to be me, soon, though. Whether or not Gwen lives to see is something I’ll just have to see.

## / ## / ##

Of course Courtney found out. Smartass.

But is it bad that I really, really liked having her attention and care?

Whatever. But, she held my hand today, and her hand was really, really warm.

God, how pathetic am I? I’m literally dying over here and yet I’m getting all flustered over a hand. I’m doomed.

I don’t know, I just wished I could have stayed like that with her forever. Her hand on mine. Her hand squeezing mine.

Together.

## / ## / ##

It got worse.

It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts to even fucking breathe with how much it hurts.

Am I dying? I think I am.

I hope I am.

## / ## / ##

She’s clueless. She’s so fucking cute when she’s clueless.

She keeps on trying to guess who my “beloved” is, and she’s fucking clueless that it’s her. Of course she is. Of course Courtney is smart and sharp at everything but identifying that it’s her I’m in love with.

Of course, of course, that’s just the universe playing “Heather’s Karma” at me.

She’ll fall in love, someday, and it’ll hurt like a bitch when she realizes who she’s pining for is a dense rock.

## / ## / ##

I want to hold her and kiss her and love her and I know it’s selfish but the thought of it is so good but I can’t indulge in it and it hurts.

… At least it’ll be over, soon. I can feel another cough coming.

## / ## / ##

I’m going to die today. I can feel it.

It’s a shame Courtney is going to beat herself up for not finishing the answer on time, though, but she’s going to hurt either way. Maybe I’ll leave her this so that she knows.

God, that’s going to be embarrassing, but at least I’ll be dead and not around to see her reaction, even though it’ll be priceless.

It’s time to go, though.

## / ## / ##

Good (?) news: I’m not dead. Bad (?) news: I will be in a few hours.

I’m high on pain meds right now. It hurts to write, but I gotta.

So I thought I was gonna die. Fucking Gwen n Eva ruined that though. They got me to a hospital. Caring assholes.

The doctors say the flowers are going to suffocate me. Good. I’m ready for this to be over.

My last request is that this, somehow, is given to Courtney Barlow. The doctors already know this.

So, Courtney, hey, how are you? In the event you have this, I’m dead. Sorry. You were the person I got Hanahaki for. Sorry for not telling you.

I’m running out of time but I love you. You already saw the other entries, you already know how much I love you and every part of you. Of course you do. Smartass.

Besides this, I have left you a lotus and an azalea taped in my journal. The azalea means “take care of yourself for me”, and I left you one because I’m going to beat your ass if I see you again too soon. The lotus means rebirth.

I don’t know what happens when you die, but come and find me when we’re reborn. In the next life or the one after that, just come and find me. I’ve never been patient but for you, I’ll wait.

Come and find me.

(Courtney goes to find her.)

❀

She finds her through a vase of flowers. Lotus flowers and azaleas, to never forget the promise Heather didn’t know she made.

And heathers. Especially heathers, year-round. The only difference was that she tossed them out before she could see them wilt, much like the original Heather had.

Over the years, Courtney found Heather in minuscule things. In flowers, of course. In libraries and in pain enduring manuals and in medication and in sickness and in health, Courtney found her.

The girl who lives and loves and cries eventually dies, knowing that she’ll soon be reunited with the girl who lived and loved and died.

❀

0. restart

past the blood and bruise / past the curses and cries / beyond the terror in the nightfall / haunted by the look in my eyes / that would've loved you for a lifetime / leave it all behind / and there is happiness

❀

vi. white heathers & red roses; ‘wishes do come true’ & ‘I love you’

It’s been perhaps a day or two since Heather had awoken from her state of dying that she had accepted with grace, and Heather hates everything about the situation.

She may be in stable condition, but she is in no way getting better. She still hacks out sweet peas and purple hyacinths, along with her own blood, and she still feels just as depleted, but Heather can’t bring herself to care. The hospital gown is stiff, and saying the medical equipment is unfamiliar and uncomfortable is an understatement at best, but still, Heather takes the treatment with little argument to be provided. She’s too exhausted to care anymore, and she knows that in a few days short her time will come for good.

Still, despite her denial of the surgery, that didn’t stop her friends from the Hanahaki Club and the doctors begging her in a gentle yet urgent tone to go through with the surgery. She’s not sure why she declines; had it been a few months ago, Heather would have leaped at the chance for treatment when Gwen first suggested it. Now, though, Heather found herself wrinkling her nose in distaste, shaking her head, refusing the treatment, company, and tray of food brought to her.

Maybe, Heather thinks, if she refused her medication and nutrients, she’d die faster, but it seemed even at the hospital she didn’t get the choice. Soon, both are injected into her, and all Heather can do is sigh and wish the blossoms would overtake her faster.

Her family never shows up, though, and Heather is unsure if that’s truly a good or bad thing.

Shaking her head and the thought away, Heather wordlessly looks to the vase of roses sitting next to her stand on her side with a cheesy Get Well Soon! card attached to the vase.

Momentarily, she wonders if she would be killed faster if she choked on the thorns of the roses, before falling asleep due to her own exhaustion.

❀

It’s around 7 PM when Heather expects her nurse to come around with her dinner — an unidentifiable lump of food that tastes like chalk — when the door to her quarters slams open, and a girl who is very much not her nurse stumbles into the room.

Upon identifying who her unprecedented intruder was, Heather felt her windpipes squeeze, a lump forming in her throat. All she can do is stare like an idiot at Courtney, whose face seems to be unable to choose between adopting overwhelming relief or fiery rage.

Momentarily, though, Courtney’s raw frustration creases her features, deepening a scowl and narrowing her eyes — had she always had those bags beneath them? — to slits.

“You… you absolute idiot,” the brunette seethes, fumbling over her words. “Why? Why did you make yourself suffer for so long over these stupid flowers over me? Why are you refusing treatment? God, you’re such an idiot…”

Just like that, concern and relief overwhelm her initial anger, allowing Courtney to sink to her knees next to Heather’s side. The brunette clutches the other’s nearest hand desperately as her face contorts, fighting back a sniffle. For a fleeting moment, concern overrides all else as Heather watches Courtney let out a muffled sob, but she’s powerless to do anything besides squeezing her hand.

“But if you’re an idiot, I’m the bigger one,” Courtney choked out a watery laugh. “All that time spent investigating, and I didn’t even notice who the flowers were even for — if I had just thought harder, or if you had just told me, I could have put an end to these flowers by telling you how I feel.”

At that, Heather opens her mouth to speak, but winces as the pain seeps in once again. She notices her heart monitor elsewhere spiking, and at this, Courtney gives her hand reassuring squeezes that feel familiar and comforting.

Shaking her head once more, Courtney sighs, a fond smile cracking past her exasperated exterior. “Idiot,” she says once more, smiling, “Did you really think I didn’t like you?”

Feeling herself inhale sharply, Heather blinks once, twice, and three times before deducing that no, she hadn’t imagined the words in a dying state. Courtney’s watery eyes and wide smile and hold on her hand are still there, and so is the pain, momentarily, before it subsides. After exhaling deeply, there’s no shakiness in her breaths, nor irritation in her chest or flowers itching in the back of her throat for release.

There was only air. No flowers, blood, or bloody flowers. Just fresh and clean air that she had been deprived of for months.

For the first time in months, Heather breathes, fully and truly, free of the deadly flowers in front of her beloved.

Courtney seems to have noticed as well (her sharpness is something Heather admired — no, loved about her) as her smile falls off her face as a look of blatant surprise overtakes her features. She presses a shaking hand to Heather’s chest, feeling her heartbeat and the even rises and falls of her chest, and laughs.

She’s still shaking, though, so in a moment of blissful selfishness that Heather finally allows herself to indulge in, she wraps Courtney in a hug, and when the brunette wraps her arms around Heather, she vows to never let her go.

The months of the floral disease have been a chilling winter and her touch feels as though she has provided a getaway from it. The snow has given away and has melted into spring, the season of rebirth.

The brunette's warm. She always was, she always has been, but her warmth was unlike Heather had ever felt before, especially in the cold and lonely hospital. Greedily, Heather takes in her heat and her love and breathes in her cinnamon perfume. She was here, and it was real.

Courtney laughs softly, her chapped lips pressing against Heather’s temple diligently. She gives Heather’s hand a squeeze when they disperse from the hug, smiling brightly. Heather smiles and looks to the roses next to her side and lets herself love.

❀

Later, long after they had dispersed from their initial hug and moved onto exchanges of gentle kisses and hand-holding, Courtney hands Heather a bouquet of flowers just before she is dismissed from the hospital. The brunette looks away from Heather’s inquiring gaze, seeming embarrassed and bashful for the first time since Heather had met her.

When Heather identifies the flowers, though, she understands the uncharacteristic flustered behavior, but finds it charming and amusing rather than embarrassing.

White heathers. She lifted a portion of the bouquet to the light for a better view of the white flowers. Symbolizing wishes coming true.

Whether or not Courtney knew of flower language — after this, Heather was unsure if she ever wanted to lay her eyes on the language of flowers, despite the fact it was seared in her head — didn’t matter to Heather. She smiles instead, brushing hair out of Courtney’s eyes to look into them better.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse from all the time she spent talking with Courtney.

Predictably, Courtney opens her mouth to respond, but Heather cuts her off with a kiss.

She had been wanting Courtney and her love and affection for months, now, and now that she had it, she couldn’t help but feel the flowers and vicious coughing were nothing but a bad dream she had awoken from.

When they pull apart, Heather sucks in a breath and chuckles softly, just barely audibly, as their noses bump together.

“I love you,” Heather says. There’s no hesitation or stumbling with her words in her proclamation — only sincerity and assurance. She had waited a long time to even think of saying those words, and they had been pressing against her tongue for all of those months spent hacking up flowers. Still, throughout all of the time and suffering, all Heather had done was fall further, and the words were meant with her entire being.

Courtney’s smile in response was bright. Her eyes are just as bright, if not brighter; the words brought tears to her eyes, but thankfully, they were happy tears.

“I love you too,” Courtney murmurs, and this time, it’s her lips that find Heather’s with a smile pressed against them.

❀

END OF PART THREE - THANK YOU FOR READING! :)

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 17: 1x23 The Omega Glory

Watched the very uneven episode “The Omega Glory” today. Upon some reflection.. I think I have seen it? But I think my last rewatch ended abruptly after “By Any Other Name” so it might have been some time ago.

Anyway, it was... something. Decent, I might even say good, until the last 10-15 minutes and then it just went off a cliff? That’s how I’d summarize it.

Sulu, my beloved. I’ve missed you.

Kirk knows where all the ships are. I mean, obviously, but I love to hear it.

Phasers on heavy stun huh?

It’s so weird to be on a different ship. That looks like the same ship. It’s so empty and haunted looking.

With creepy crystal remains of bodies everywhere.

“These white crystals... are the crew.”

Something was thirsty!! Perhaps... a water vampire? Perhaps... a former McCoy girlfriend?

(Honestly having watched the whole ep...they could have expanded this intro longer. It was creepy and mysterious. Then cut the last act.)

Oh no, they’ve been infected and now must quarantine. Sort of. I guess.

...Oh no, is this Vietnam? Again?

“Our old enemy, Vietnam.”

My mother suggested the disease might be communism and I don’t think that metaphor tracks through the whole episode but you know what.. anything’s possible.

I don’t like this whole “you can’t leave the planet or you’ll get sick and die” thing. Too familiar.

"I may never be able to leave this planet but I have a worse problem: a colleague may be breaking a rule."

Says the man who has frequently violated a directive that has never been referred to as Prime before.

Kirk is getting very mumbly. That’s his serious voice.... bu it’s also his Denny Crane voice lol.

Like bio warfare in the 90s? TOS really thought the 90s was going to be the dark ages, didn’t it?

Only 90s kids remember...

Spock bursting in with a wounded man, just bringing the drama, as he does.

He’s not even listening to McCoy. Rude.

Spock absolutely 100% would have killed Captain Tracey on instinct as soon as Kirk is threatened.

Sulu’s in command? I love Captain Sulu but where is Scotty?

Kirk is so good. Clever, strong, smart. Knows all the regulations.

Tracey’s so dumb. “They’ve eradicated disease and live for hundreds of years!” Man, have you considered that they are...aliens? And their life spans are simply.... naturally longer than human life spans? And even if you could isolate the serum, it might not work on humans?

And his master plan is to isolate their immunity and bottle it for profit. It’s our old enemy... capitalism and the exploitation of intellectual property.

A fight scene!

“The pointy-eared one stays.”

Another fight scene!

Spock is watching all of this, and you know what, I feel like he’s not upset about it. It’s just like Pre-Reform Vulcan. Perhaps some... Amok Time flashbacks? “Damn, I wish that was me.”

Peanut gallery Spock.

“I wish you could teach me that.” / “I have tried.” Omg where is my scene of Spock trying to teach Kirk the nerve pinch?

And then that look Kirk gives him.

I don’t get the point of this scene but it amuses me that as soon as McCoy sees the pretty girl, he feels better.

A post-apocalyptic alien world... a very interesting concept. Like you could do a lot with that idea imo.

“That’s our worship word [freedom too.” Umm.... questionable.

Damn bitch, that was cold. Just knocking him out like that.

Damn yankee.

...Yankee and Communist dammit.

McCoy’s not even surprised to see Kirk and Spock out of jail.

Nature created a natural counterbalance to the biological disease. Where is OUR natural counterbalance, I ask?

McCoy sounds extra Southern rn. It’s all the stress.

I really don’t think Shatner gets enough credit for his subtlety. His face when McCoy explains the whole situation...

Oh he's mad now. "You've hurt Spock for nothing! Oh yeah and also killed thousands but MOSTLY THE SPOCK THING!”

Whereas Tracey really doesn’t seem to care about anything but war for its own sake. He knows now that his master plan for immortality was nothing the whole time...but he still needs to call those Yangs.

In other words, another once-reputable figure of authority now gone mad.

Kirk’s voice is so casual when he’s talking to Uhura and Sulu, you feel like he’s gotta have something up his sleeve. He can never hide when he’s really upset about something.

...Apparently what he had up his sleeve was his crew knowing regulations and then another full body tackle. Fight scene 3!

"My need for attention is vital.” Same, Spock.

This is a very attenuated and unbelievable connection Kirk is making but he’s Kirk so I’ll assume it makes sense that he’s putting it all together so fast.

Alternate Universe: Vietnam canon-divergence lol.

For anyone keeping track, this is right about the point where the episode goes off the rails.

YOU’RE A ROMANTIC, JIM. Well he’s right about that at least and he should say it.

Oh no, an American flag.

Cloud William, chief and the son of chiefs. That’s continuity of government for you.

(Also pretty hilarious that this society is supposedly So American with our exact flag and Constitution and everything... but they’re not a democracy.)

I really don’t want to believe that “under God” is still in the pledge 200 years from now.

"You're confusing the stars with heaven." Kirk thinks he's being called an angel.

The absolute mishmash of meaningless, referent-free words here. America. Native Americans. Communists. The flag, the Constitution. God. Angels. Devils. What???

Like how can they both be flag worshippers AND...believers in God? Who is their God? Alien George Washington?

So rude to call Spock Kirk’s “servant.” That’s his space husband!

Is that a literal picture of Spock as a demon in their.. Bible?

I can’t even follow this anymore.

“You command him.” I mean...yes, that’s how the military works.

“He has no heart.” Wow, rude.

“His heart is different!” I stan one (1) Southern Doctor.

I feel like Spock is just... not having this at all. His face loos like he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Oh no is that the CONSTITUTION??!

“Kill his servant” wow Tracey is obsessed with Spock, isn’t he? I guess everyone in the Fleet knows about them and their special relationship.

Spock is even amused by the knife at his throat. His eyes say "I am distressed--but fascinated!"

A FOURTH fight scene? And here I thought Kirk was going to recite the Constitution.

“I’m open to suggestions.” He’s just as worried about Kirk as McCoy is, bu the doesn’t show it.

...Yep, he’s being telepathic again. Not really in line with his usual telepathy but okay. Alien magic is flexible.

Okay I have a JD and I can confidently say there is nothing about good defeating evil in the Constitution.

And now this alien guy is immediately ready to make himself a “slave.” That seems problematic. What happened to the holy word “Freedom”?

Wow, Kirk's in a bad mood. "You can't pronounce your own holy words worth shit."

“This is only for the eyes of a Chief,” he says and Kirk just pushes him away.

Spock literally turns Tracey around for Kirk’s big final speech like “Listen up, bitch, my boyfriend’s talking.”

Is this the 4th of July episode?? Feels like there should be canons and fireworks going off behind him rn.

Idk, the words of the Constitution can't be so unique and unprecedented if a WHOLE OTHER ALIEN CIVILIZATION just came up with them, too, on their own, like monkeys typing Hamlet. (Given the timelines here... they probably did it first too lol.)

"Liberty and freedom need to be more than just words." Like what does that even mean in this context? Sounds nice but it’s very hard to put into the context of all the rest of this.

“And uh be nice to the Kohms,” after most of them (?) were probably just killed.

I really was into this until the last 10-15 minutes and I think there were under-explored concepts that could have taken the fever dream of whatever that bizarre-o fever dream at the end was. The abandoned ship. The leftovers of bio warfare. The whole weird and under-explained concept of immunity. The tragedy that so much was destroyed,, including but not limited to the whole Exeter crew, for no reason. What happened to Tracey to so destroy him--was it just greed? What about the “Prime” Directive? Is it important or not. They just leave at the end after (as Spock pointed out) doing quite a bit of their own meddling, even though meddling is allegedly the worst. Also, we know almost nothing about the Kohms at all. The “American” society clearly wasn’t democratic. Were the Kohms literally Communist?

I’m willing to accept a certain degree of alternate Earth scenarios--like Miri (though imo that was not a necessary component of that story) or Bread and Circuses, but this was too much. TOO unbelievable. And frankly unnecessary. You could do an allegory for alternate-Vietnam, and it would be just as clear but even more effective. There wouldn’t be any distraction in the form of “what the fuck is that flag doing here?”

There is a potentially incendiary concept here, which is the same one I thought of reading about actual COG plans--certain aspects of the Yanks’ culture survives, but with absolutely no meaning attached. They have a Constitution but they mispronounce all the words. They have this tattered flag but it has no other meaning. They’ve turned the symbols of the government into a religion, but they don’t practice any of the civil aspects of it--they have chiefs, not democratically appointed leaders, for example. Like, COG asks “what IS the country, and how do you make sure the country endures no matter what?” This was an opportunity to show the worst of that: the country continues to exist as symbology only--incredibly strong symbology, but only that--and all of the actual values that were supposed to be stored with that symbology have disappeared. Similarly, their hatred of their enemies endures. It’s lauded in the ep as their attempt to get “their land” back but what if it’s just war for its own sake, as Tracey seems to be engaging in? To tell that story, especially in the 60s, against the backdrop of Vietnam, and with the references to bio warfare and nuclear warfare, could be powerful. And I know TOS can work in metaphor and comparison. It doesn’t need to bring out a literal fucking flag.

Honestly, it was like they had one good, classic, sci fi story but it didn't fill 52 minutes so they tacked on the American Pride 4th of July Propaganda Extravaganza at the end.

It really felt like the lesson was “America good” lol.

I liked the concept of the post apocalyptic society in the aftermath of bio warfare as a cautionary tale for 1960s America, and I'd be up for crazed snake oil salesman Starfleet Captain (or...whatever his rank was) if it were a bit better explained. But the rest of it....

It also... could have been kinda incendiary with the idea that the Constitution and flag are religious symbols... I mean some people do treat them that way and I've always found that, first, blasphemous, and second, bizarre in such a hyper-Christian country. But I feel like instead of digging ito that, they just tempered it with "But also they're Christian, as you can tell by their drawing of devil!Spock, for some reason."

Idk, this story could have been complete with out the whole weird “Vietnam AU” back story or alternately it could have been a biting commentary about what defines America, and about whether or not our symbols might be more enduring--or even more important to people today??--than the laudable but more complex and difficult ideals that underpin the country’s founding. Are the words of the Constitution just gobbledy gook? They are if you don’t live by them, and America has always struggled to do that. It definitely would struggle even more in the aftermath of an apocalypse.

...I’m more annoyed now, thinking about the possible sci fi story that could have been...

Anyway next is an ep I’m fairly sure I haven’t  seen, so that should be fun.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (1)

This was meant to go up Friday but my new laptop turned up late, and from now on the schedule should be a Thursday/Friday.

Warnings: Swearing and brief mentions of violence. I’ll update these as the story progresses.

Prologue.

Full Masterlist.

—————

Aelin couldn’t help but grin from as she watched her family bicker amongst themselves. They were in the house they all used for small gatherings including family dinner and movie night or for when they were waiting for new recruits to arrive, such as now.  She was sat at the edge of the room in her window seat where she could see every exit and could have her eyes on every person in the room. Manon and Dorian were sparring in the middle of the room, neither one of them managing to keep the other down for very long before they were at each other’s throats once more.

Aedion and Lysandra were curled up on the loveseat together, the dark haired girl giggling at whatever her cousin had just whispered in her ear, which in turn made Aelin want to smile and gag at the same time. Elide was cleaning her gun as she sat on the floor between Ren’s legs as he braided the girls hair. And last but not least, Chaol was currently fussing over a pregnant Yrene who would bat his hands away and kept threatening to poison him if he didn’t stop.

The last group of muscle they had hired turned out to be undercovers that Aedion convinced her should be left alive, unfortunately, not to mention that they were absolutely fucking useless considering their backgrounds. This time around, Aelin allowed Elide to do the search because the girl was not only capable of killing a man twice her size in under a minute; she was also the biggest nerd and hacker amongst them. Her second in command had pulled through, and when she came to Aelin a few days ago to show her the files, she was told she could have whatever new knives she wanted for such an amazing find. The smaller girl had grinned that awful grin which even terrified Manon sometimes.

Everyone was on alert in a second at the sound of the doorbell and had moved into place by time it had stopped ringing through the house. Aelin was now seated behind her desk with her feet up and hands folded across her stomach.

Celaena Sardothien was present now.

The others were spread about the room, her cousin to her right and Elide to her left, while Lysandra went to greet the new recruits. It would have been Yrene once upon a time, but Celaena refused to let her when she told everyone about the baby. That was their one rule. You do not harm a child. And the gods fucking help you if you do.

Lys came back into the room and wiggled her brows at Celaena before moving to stand beside Ren at the back as five very tall, tanned and muscled men came through just behind her. The first to enter was the man she knew to be one Rowan Whitehorn, sporting an incredibly bored look, much like his second. Lorcan Salvaterre was right on his heels, followed closely by the rest of this little band of misfits. The twins, Fenrys and Connall, she remembered, were the only one with smiles on their faces. Mischievous was a correct description. Vaughan was quiet and looked quite shy on the outside, but she knew he was calculating and planning as he scanned the room and the people inside of it. The last to enter was Gavriel. She hadn’t noticed before, you can’t ever see things in photos, but as he stood before her now in the flesh, there was a familiarity about him that she couldn’t place exactly.

Celaena smirked, making an obvious show of looking them up and down as she spoke, “Gentlemen, welcome. It’s so lovely to finally meet you all.”

They all gave a short bow of their heads with a muttered “Miss Sardothien”.

Manon snorted at that and was promptly glared at when it didn’t go unnoticed by the men before her. The witch rolled her eyes and went back to looking at her nails as if she was entirely uninterested, yet she was the complete opposite.

“Please boys, ignore the formalities. You may call me Celaena,” each of them were clearly about to nod once more but she continued before they could, “if you can survive one little test.”

oOoOo

Rowan was now regretting this whole assignment. Sardothien was an entitled brat that clearly thought this whole thing was a god damned game. She was nineteen years old and had somehow inherited Rhoe Galathynius' empire. It would have made sense to go to Ashryver, being one of the only living relatives Rhoe had left. The whole thing was absurd if you asked him and he couldn’t wait until he and the Cadre had taken everything apart piece by piece.

He wouldn’t let her know how he felt so through gritted teeth he asked, “A test, Miss Sardothien?”

Celaena stood and walked around to the other side of her desk and leaned back against it, still smiling. Rowan didn’t think that he liked that smile which quite clearly said trouble was brewing.

“Yes Whitehorn, a test. Am I not allowed to test people who wish to work for me as I see fit?”

Fucking hell, if this carried on then the mission would be over faster than they expected because he had killed her. “Of course you are. I apologise if I made it sound otherwise.”

He received nothing other than a raised brow and quick once over.

Bitch.

“As I was saying before I was interrupted, if you pass this little test, you’re all hired. If not, well, you won’t be suited here.”

Holding back an eye roll at something as childish as a test, he conceded, “What test ma’am?”

“See how polite this one is Havilliard, why have you never called me ‘ma’am’?” she called out to one Dorian Havilliard, who Rowan knew to be Celaena’s mercy killer. He had the unfortunate job of killing one of their members if any of their injuries were too severe to treat. No matter what business they may be in, he felt for the man and hoped he’d never have to do such a thing for one of his own. He banished the thought when he heard Dorian scoff before her Royal Highness continued.

“If your second here can last at least five minutes in a sparring match against my own second, we have a deal.”

Lorcan, ever one to prove he was better than most, agreed before Rowan could say anything and that time he did roll his eyes.

“Done.” He sneered as he turned to the right of the woman to face Aedion and beckoned for him to come forward. Within seconds of that display the whole room began laughing and more importantly, Blackbeak full on cackled as she noticed their shocked faces. He realised why when a strong feminine voice full of mockery and laughter said;

“I’m over here sweetheart.”

He turned to see Elide Lochan in all her tiny glory, giving his second a smile that even sent shivers down his own spine. There wasn’t much about her in the file they had, just that she was an excellent techy and had disposed of her own Uncle after he tried to sell her off into some underground prostitution ring over in France. No wonder she was second in command when she was so inconspicuous. He should have guessed.

Rowan had barely any time to process the information before she moved faster than he could blink, landing a powerful left hook to Lorcan’s jaw which resulted in his ass meeting the floor.

oOoOo

Having a woman hand him his ass should not have turned Lorcan on, but by the gods it did.

She was a feisty little fireball and Lorcan hadn’t had such a tiring workout since that day six years ago when Whitehorn had nearly killed him and beat him black and blue. He had been an angry, hateful mess after the accident and no one could out last that icy rage for very long. So he had endured it full force until the silver haired had broken down in his arms.

Sardothien did indeed call time after what were a very long five minutes and the two of them were left panting and sweaty in the middle of the room, gazes locked. Lorcan wished it was a different activity that had left them that way.

Enough Salvaterre, you’re here to take them down. No fucking the enemy.

“I’m impressed. Nobody ever lasts even two against Elide, not even the Wolf over there.” The bitch queen jerked her thumb over her shoulder to where Ashryver was standing, who simply flipped her off. Many would have been killed by their bosses for such behaviour, but apparently everything worked differently here.

This was going to be difficult.

“Ren you shit stain, show them to their rooms. You’ll be on the first floor along with Manon, Dorian, Lys and Aedion. They’re very loud lovers so I hope you brought ear plugs with you.” She said it with a smile and wiggled her fingers in goodbye as they were ushered out of the room by a man with a scar on his face. Just before the door closed, Lorcan saw the swagger facade drop as Celaena fussed over her second, worry written on her face as she turned the dark haired woman’s face this way and that way.

Each individual room was pointed out to them by Ren as they passed, he didn’t look too happy to be given the job though. The twins were in the room closest to the stairs, next to them was Vaughan and Gavriel and then himself on his own followed by Rowan’s own closest to the next flight of stairs up. They stopped outside of Rowan’s room before they were allowed to disperse and were given a few ground rules as if they were dogs.

“Boss says you can use the ground floor as you wish; watch a movie, read a book or whatever. You are not to go up to the second floor with permission from Lochan or the Boss herself. Most of us have our own houses so we won’t all be here twenty for hours. The only permanent ones for now will be the Boss, Lochan, the Westfalls and myself. Any questions?”

They all shook their heads which was apparently deemed acceptable.

“Good. Take the day to get yourselves situated; we’re all having dinner at seven, if you can call it that. Don’t be late.”

He nodded before disappearing back down the stairs and Rowan addressed them now that they were alone.

“Get unpacked and sorted.  I want you mingling to your heart’s content tonight, the faster they trust us, the faster their empire falls. Understood?”

They each murmured a “Yes Sir” before walking back to their own respective rooms and Fenrys and Connall went to the stairs to go get their bags from the car. Just before he could turn the handle to his room, he stopped when Rowan spoke again, all seriousness and a stern look.

“Oh and Lorcan? Keep your fucking dick out of tiny, short tempered ladies please. I will not allow us to fail because your hormones led you astray.”

Vaughan chuckled under his breath while Gavriel just shook his head, the twins already out of hearing distance, thank fuck.

A woman had never messed with his morals before and he certainly wasn’t going to let such a thing happen this time.

Not now and not ever.

—————

I hope you like my baby Badass Elide and Horny Lorcan;) If you want to be added/removed from the tags just give me a shout!!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up

[justimajin]

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 9

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 4.8k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away…  …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13 (please check out the disclaimer on the first part); none

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, May 12 

It’s quiet; save for the small snores leaving your lips and the occasional tumbling of your blanket, dragging its warmth closer to your shivering body. Your eyes are sealed shut, the exhaustion of long practices, training sessions and classes forming into dark circles underneath your eyes, muscles aching at your every movement. 

That’s when the spiking ring blares out into the room, causing you to immediately jump up and rummage around for its location. Once you find it, a deep exhale leaves you when it finally goes silent.

Blinking sleepily, you narrow your eyes onto the luminescent digits brightly glowing at you, eyes widening when they alert of bad news rather than good.

Scrambling up, you hurriedly open your door and glance around, wondering why Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t wake you up.

When you crack open Jungkook’s door, the answer is right in front of you.

“Oh no…” You whisper, quickly crouching down and shaking his arm. “Jungkook! Jungkook!”

He seems too caught up with his drowsiness, face turning in the opposite direction from you. With a sigh, you know you can’t really blame him for being like this, recalling how intense practice had been yesterday and how all of you had been wishing for the day to end soon so you could just go back to the dorm and sleep.

You wonder if you’re overstepping it, but then thoughts of Yoongi’s expression at your tardiness comes into mind and suddenly there seems to be no boundaries. 

You push him off the bed.

He immediately wakes up, appearing frazzled until you reach out and show him the time. His eyes widen and he goes through something similar to you, before his arm shoots out to grab onto you.

“Taehyung.” He mumbles, causing the both of you to stare at each other hopelessly.

After being roommates with Jungkook and Taehyung for nearly a month now, you’ve discovered that waking up Taehyung is harder than having to endure your rigorous training. As if Jungkook knows instantly as well, he follows you when you dash over to the farthest room.

Barging in, something tugs at your feet and you let out a shriek when you’re being pulled down, smacking onto the ground.

“Y/N!” Jungkook moves to help you up and you untangle yourself from the empty box your foot managed to get caught up in. Whirling around, you spot your target.

Taehyung remains snoozing away, arms tightly wrapped around a pillow and head lolling off the side of the bed. Jungkook roughly pokes him, waiting for a reaction but Taehyung simply stirs in his sleep, unfazed from the action. You opt out for trying as well, shaking Taehyung’s shoulder only to receive a similar reaction to Jungkook.

An idea sparks in your mind when you shrewdly eye down the pillow encased in his arms, hands tugging on the corner. What you fail to understand though, is that Taehyung’s grip is a lot stronger than you had expected – which is why when you finally manage to yank away from his grasps and face Jungkook in exasperation, you are very close to giving up.

“What do we do?” You’re left resorting to staring at Taehyung’s dormant form feebly, shoulders slumping down.

Jungkook crosses his arms, a bleak gaze in his eyes.  

 “Can you hold the back of his head for me?”

You don’t have a chance to ask why when Jungkook leaves, not sparing either of you a single glance. Scampering to follow his instructions, your hand rests against Taehyung’s head as you patiently wait, eyes unconsciously drifting over to the looming way seconds keep ticking by on Taehyung’s clock.

Jungkook reappears in no time, a large rounded bucket in his hand. Before you know it, there’s water splashing all over Taehyung’s bed and floor, having nearly drenched you if you didn’t pull back in time.

Taehyung snaps awake, a look of pure shock and utter rage taking a hold of his features. When his eyes meet Jungkook’s, he opens his mouth as if to unleash a brewing storm, but with a mere couple of words – it fizzles away just as fast.

“We’re late for practice.”

He takes a faltering step, hand coming to cover his mouth.

“Oh shit.”

You watch in surprise as Taehyung scrambles around for his clothes, frantically darting all over the place until his field of vision lands on you and Jungkook. “Hurry up and change out of your pajama’s guys!”

You can only stare at Jungkook impressed after that, quickly following after him. “I can’t believe that worked and he wasn’t mad at you.”

“Nah.” He rushes over to his room’s door, sending a smile at you with words that startle you, “Yoongi is the one you should be scared of when he’s mad.”

***

The door to your dorm is pushed open as you drag in your drained limbs into the room. Every muscle in your body stiffens and aches with your movements, occasionally wincing when you head into your room and plop down onto the mattress.

Upon reaching from practice, Taehyung, Jungkook and you weren’t sure if you were going to make it out alive. Gaging solely off of their reactions to the situation, you could tell the storm you were headed for wasn’t going to be a pretty one in the least – and it’s exactly what you discover when hostility radiates off of Yoongi.

He had gone off to give the three of you a thorough lecture, not satisfied with Namjoon’s simple “Just be on time for tomorrow” and mere smile, going as far as to decide that doing forty push-ups each before resuming practice was more appropriate. Of course all of you ended up obliging, something you deeply regretted when you’re being handed a basketball right after and thrown into an ongoing game with your other members. Mid-way through practice, Yoongi’s hostility seems to fizzle away as his focus shifts more towards practice and less about your tardiness; something you’re grateful for when you know the amount of push-ups you’ve done is going to come back to bite you.

Letting out a sigh, you pull out your backpack and rummage through it for a moment. After attending practice, you were busy in the midst of attending all your classes, stifling your exhausted yawns and aching muscles away like you usually had done.

However, today was a bit different for you than usual, a fact that comes to light when a collection of papers brush against your fingers. Yanking them out, your backpack is tossed to the side and your eyes greedily scan over the contents, eyes widening more and more as time passes.

Jaw dropping down, you rapidly scan through all the flimsy papers over and over again, eyes nimbly flickering until they freeze. Slowly lowering your outstretched hands, they are set to the side and a deep exhale leaves you, head buried within your hands.

From a distance, the large red streaks are clearly visible, angry marks having been imprinted into the multiple sheets with various question marks and circles accompanying them – the biggest mark diligently being placed on top of every single one of them and screaming to you the inevitable result.

***

To say that Yoongi doesn’t notice anything, is a complete and absolute lie.

Before he was appointed captain of his team, he had been part of numerous other ones. Over years of practicing and training, he’s learned the simple basics of what comes down to formation of a team and most importantly, how to manage each individual accordingly so that their strengths shine through and build a collective cohesive unit. This core principle entitles that Yoongi knows when and where things have gone wrong, deciphering any conflicts and issues promptly so that his team remains unaffected.

Which is why when you stroll into the gym later than usual, eyes drooping down and steps slow, Yoongi knows something is definitely up.

He doesn’t say a word until you approach him, appearing more cautious – something else that also draws out concern from him.

“I-….” You harshly swallow, letting out the words you never wanted to say, “I-I won’t be coming to practice.”

It almost feels like someone just punched Yoongi in the gut, all sense of air leaving him right away. He immediately steps forward, knowing that he wasn’t the only one that was drawn to what you were saying when the rest of the members that had been practically suddenly gather around you.

Questions are thrown into the air, from the likes of ‘why?’ and ‘did something happen?’ but Yoongi can see how you hastily shrink away from all of them, his voice raising.

“Back away, give him some space.”

At his word, they all step back and you smile, softly muttering that it was okay.

“Why have you decided to stop coming to practice?” He presses, diverting your attention over to him.

You find yourself stumbling over the words, a bit embarrassed and very distraught that the situation has come down to this. “M-My grades….I’ve been getting really behind in my classes and I need to get my grades up before it’s too late…”

Yoongi admits the confession catches him quite off guard, assuming the reason would have been much more severe for you to have simply wanted to quit basketball like that. However, he acknowledges that if you’re willing to do so, it’s important for you to focus on school for now and temporarily revoke attending practice for that sake.

With a hum, he lets you know his thoughts, “That’s fine, just remember to come back once you’re done.”

You nod and he turns away at that, not wanting you to pick up on the dismayed expression he holds as Namjoon approaches you with a soft smile.

“Good luck Y/N.” You grin at his words of encouragement, other members following suit as they walk closer to you and wish you the best of luck. The reassuring faces and words of encouragement are enough to fuel you to do better, motivation spiking in you to quickly boost up your marks so that you can return back to practice promptly.

***

The sound of another page flipping echoes through the walls. There’s a small light dangling over the wooden table you’re seated at, more and more shelves bursting with books surrounding you. An old lady is seated in the far corner, occasionally sifting a yawn as her eyes move across the dusty book sitting on her desk. Aside from the boy that sits a couple of tables from you and the girl buried behind one of the bookshelves, there seems to be no one else nearby as a deafening silence lingers in the air.

Your brows furrow when you narrow down onto the long sentences, eyes moving along but not being able to absorb a single word. You try and try, blinking your eyes and desperately attempting to draw some focus back in, however to no avail does anything remotely sink in.

A weary sigh passes by your lips, form slumping down into your chair as you stare at the book with a large pout. Although your initial perception of coming to this school streamed from the heavy focus on sports rather than academics, there’s no telling how long you’ll have to suffer under the wrath of long drawn out hours of studying.

Tracing your fingers against one of the pages, there’s a soft smile on your lips when you begin to wander off into the events of this morning. Taehyung had ended up waking you up out of habit – his expression confused when you mumbled that you weren’t going until contorting into the prickling realization of what had happened. Him and Jungkook had then left for practice without a single word as you strangely found it impossible to sleep afterwards, twisting and turning when you were only filled with ill thoughts of the team practicing without you.

You wonder how it was even possible to have so little time pass by but to miss something so incredibly much, that it constantly felt like there was something wrong. Like there was something you should be doing, instead of staring at the daunting amount of pages you have to somehow engrave into your brain.

You were used to the dissatisfaction of not being able to play, you were accustomed to being told ‘no’ and ordered to follow the rules and regulations.

Because after all, there’s no place for girls on a competitive team.  

A frown settles on your lips at the thought, a loose memory tucked away among others emerging out.

Your shoes squeak when you enter the small gymnasium, eager eyes scanning the vicinity and then rushing over to the young man who has a whistle strung around his neck, gaze darting over to his clipboard.

“COACH!” You hurriedly exclaim, drawing his attention over to you. Stopping right in front of him, your hands rest on your knees and you heave to catch your breath, eyes sparking when you look up.

“D-Did you think about it…?” There’s bundles of hope dwelling in your eyes, his disappointed expression single handedly shattering it.

“I’m sorry Y/N, it won’t be possible.” He apologetically smiles before leaving, but it does nothing to bring the same light back to your features, “We won’t be able to cover the budget if there’s not that many girls interested.”

You robotically nod, swallowing the lump forming in your throat when a basketball abruptly shoots out, nearly hitting you before bouncing away.

“Oops!” A boy from the competitive team rushes over, his eyes wide but far from innocent, “That was my bad! Maybe if you were on the team you would have been able to catch it.”

The comment is followed by an accompaniment of snickers from behind him, and he slips the ball away from his hands towards you again with a conniving smile. Your gaze remains on the ground, the coach’s words still ringing deep in your head.

The fallen basketball is picked up from the ground, the snickers all silencing when the basketball is hurled in the direction of the boy. He manages to dodge it in time, fear-grown eyes appearing startled when a loud voice breaks through.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” Hyerin cunningly smirks, cocking a brow up as she plants her hands on her hips, “Next time I’ll try harder and make sure it hits you!”

The boy opens his mouth as if to interrupt, but when Hyerin starts stomping over to retrieve the basketball, he cowers away and decides not to risk it. He joins the rest of his team and they hurriedly scamper away, Hyerin smiling in triumph as she walks over to you with it.

“They’re such idiots.” She mumbles underneath her breath, gaze growing concerned as she lowers her head to see your down-casted expression, “No luck?”

You don’t reply, simply shake your head in response. Hyerin straightens herself up with a sigh, planting the basketball in your hands before grabbing onto your arm and dragging you over to a hoop.

“H-Hyerin?” You’re frozen when she plops herself down onto the ground, eyes waiting in anticipation but you continue to stare at her in confusion.

“Hello!!” She waves her hands, gesturing to the basket, “I didn’t pay to watch you just stand there!”

You slowly begin to dribble the ball, gaze moving to stare at the hoop. Carefully running over, you do a quick bounce and shoot the ball, watching it land into the hoop perfectly.

“WOOO! YESSSS, THAT’S MY GIRL!!” Hyerin screams at the top of her lungs, ongoing passerbys regarding her strangely but she pays no mind when a small smile sparks on your lips from the gesture. Gaining more confidence, you dribble again and take another shot, your ball skillfully entering the hoop once more.

Hyerin starts to sound like a banshee, shrills leaving her as you continue to make shots, not missing a single one. It surprises you at her ability to sound like an entire audience with her one voice, but it arises up a thought that you had been long clinging on to.

Perhaps a day will come, when you’ll be able to mimic this euphoric feeling alongside a team of your own.

***

Yoongi never thought this day would come.

It’s the same gym, the same team members, and the exact same game.

But something…. something is different.

He can’t quite seem to put his finger on it, eyes roaming to see Namjoon talking to Jaebum and Jackson, presumably going over something. Hoseok, Jimin and Jinyoung are in the corner taking turns shooting hoops, Yoongi’s eyes being drawn to how ordinary the picture appears. His line of sight then hovers over to clock right near them, the handles signalling to him that practice was going to begin soon – at the same time it always did.

When he turns his head, he notices the last couple of members flock in. It’s typical and he makes a note of it, shuffling over to get a hold of a basketball. With a simple gesture, he calls everyone forth and his eyes narrow into focus, marching up to his team as he’s accustomed to doing.

“Today we’ll be working on building strategies as a team.” He starts calling out names, grabbing a hold of his members and positioning them to where they need to be standing, “I want to try switching up offense and defense today, it needs to be more–“ 

“Uh, Yoongi?”

He frowns when he’s suddenly been interrupted, eyes darting up to see Namjoon scanning the entire set-up he’s made and appearing evidently confused.

“What is it?”

Namjoon sheepishly smiles, “Why are there only four players on the court?”

He cocks his head to the side, puzzled. He was going to start off with five players per game and filter them out so he can assess which combinations were ideal. It was going to begin with Jaebum, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin, and yo–

He blinks abruptly, noticing that Namjoon’s line of sight was directly on the empty space right next to Jimin – a spot he notices that most of his players have trained their eyes on.

Right.

You weren’t here. 

With a deep sigh, he points over at Jackson, “Second defense position.”

Confusion overtakes Jackson for a moment until he’s bursting with joy, ecstatic at getting the opportunity to play first. Yoongi roughly looks at Namjoon, eyes perked.

“Well? Is it okay now?” He snaps, causing Namjoon to slightly smile for a second before he nods. Yoongi whirls around, the whistle around his neck blowing as the players get back into the game.

Yoongi’s eyes monitor from afar as the game goes on, lips down turning when the combination he’s created almost seems imbalanced. Although having Jungkook, Hoseok and Jaebum on offense – a position that required them to invade the opposite team’s grounds and shoot hoops directly – was a good idea, he can't say the same for the defense position. Jackson is too fast, getting halted up in being with the offense players when he needs to stay in defense. His pace doesn’t match up at all with Jimin’s, who’s forced to defend alone when all he needs is better defense partner, if only you were her–

Yoongi grits his teeth, shaking his head and stepping forward, “We’re doing a player switch. Now.”

He swaps Jackson out for Jinyoung, placing Jackson in the opposing team and granting the defense position to Jinyoung now. Taking a step back, he blows the whistle and carefully watches the game commence, wondering if his hunch at things was getting right now.

It seems quite alright when Jinyoung stays in the defense alongside Jimin, until he’s called up on doing the actual defense. He missteps the opposing team’s, a defeated sigh escaping Yoongi when the basketball meets the hoop. 

He calls out a switch again, this time opting for Taehyung to take the spot. Although he already knows Taehyung is more equipped to be playing the offense, it’s a fact proven to him that leaves a fine layer of frustration and anguish.

He attempts one more time; filtering all the members positions and hoping that the new combination leaves a more favourable result. However much to his own dismay, the mixture of players becomes an utter chaotic mess – unbalanced to the point that it has Yoongi gritting his teeth even more harshly as the pent-up annoyance spikes up.

Taehyung sighs, strolling over to a panting Jungkook before he plops next to him in exhaustion.

“I really miss Y/N.”

The latter hums and Yoongi arches an eyebrow, noticing the rest of his players seem to be in the same rut when there’s tiredness seeping into their forms. The comment only causes Yoongi to huff, an array of thoughts he’s already acknowledged at this point.

You can play both offense and defense.

You listen to him, effortlessly switching between the two despite your lack of experience playing basketball competitively.

You….. should be here.

There’s a crease in between his brows as his lips pursue, a hand on his shoulder drawing his attention away.

“I’ll take over this time.” Namjoon kindly smiles and heads for the team, despite the reluctance that masks Yoongi from the idea. He watches the couch gather the players and reorganize them, a process that usually is simple for Yoongi when he has all his players and doesn’t need to constantly rearrange them like some kind of jig-saw puzzle.

Sitting down on a far bench, Yoongi can only watch when the game commences and Namjoon directs them, noticing that he wasn’t the only one having trouble filling in the gap. In fact, it’s something that’s far too obvious when the surrounding players aren’t prepared to adapt to the sudden change either; everyone’s game being thrown off because of one simple absence.

***

Yoongi could with no doubt, anticipate you weren’t going to be at practice. The fact had been practically ingrained into his brain and there was no way he was expecting you to show up.

What he had been expecting though, was for his team to actually show up.

All he can do is turn to Namjoon puzzled, “What happened?”

Namjoon doesn’t look at him, simply reading through the various list of excuses he had been given in exchange for the now empty gym.

“Wasn’t feeling well, went back home, forgot to feed dog….”

Yoongi is left resorting to just an expression of bizarre astonishment, scoffing when the basketball in his hands is swung in the direction in the cart.

“This is really strange…” Namjoon mumbles, brows furrowing the more he stares, “I can understand one or two of them, but all of them?”

Yoongi sighs, snatching the paper away from Namjoon's hands and gesturing him towards the exit. “Come on.”

Namjoon is still confused when he grabs his coat, lightly jogging after Yoongi who marches out of the gym. If there’s one thing he knows about his team, it’s that there’s only one certain individual that has the potential to spur all of this up. 

***

A light knock rattles against the wooden door, Yoongi crossing his arms as Namjoon stands behind him, eyes roaming around the expanse of the large school library. As Yoongi’s foot taps against the floor, the door swings open to a clearly not sick, absent or pet owner Jeon Jungkook.

As if one cue, the door goes swinging close until Yoongi stumps his foot right in between it and the wall, Jungkook stepping away entirely and being forced to show the mayhem ensuing in the room.

There’s a large brown table in the centre, cluttered with various notes, open textbooks and snacks. An array of disarranged chairs surround it, two of which contain Jackson rummaging through one of the open snack bags and Jinyoung falling asleep while drowning out the answers being tossed across the room. Off to the far corner is a giant whiteboard, millions of words and theories scribbling onto it. Taehyung, Hoseok, Jimin and Jaebum stand near it – rendered completely frozen by Yoongi’s presence.

His eyes roam around the plethora of people until they land onto you, body facing the whiteboard with a textbook in your hands but expression remaining bewildered at his sudden arrival.

A deep sigh leaves Yoongi, stepping into the room despite a frazzled Jungkook protesting who expects Yoongi to stay something against the entire team being there.

“You’re all being too distracting.” He gestures for Namjoon to walk in, who sheepishly smiles before Yoongi continues.

“Luckily, I managed to bring over some actual help. So all of you need to head back to practice now.”

The room fills with protests but Yoongi is having any of it when he gestures to the wide-open door. Not another word is spoken after that, the room becoming increasingly quiet as a result of the aftermath.

You decide to step forward once there’s more space in the room, a smile on your lips, “It’s nice to see you captain.”

Yoongi doesn’t say much to retaliate, a simple hum from his lips when he keeps his gaze focused at the disappearing backs of his team members. Yet there’s something about it that makes you want to probe more, curiosity lacing around you at the way he lingers at the door even as the members seem to be long gone.

“Thank you for bringing Namjoon over.”

“Don’t thank me, I wasn’t going to have any more disruptions.”

You nod, but the couple of words leaving your mouth have Yoongi instantly leaving the position, racing back to the gym.

“Did you perhaps…miss me?”

“I’ll see you later Namjoon.” Is the only thing he hurriedly mumbles, the room dipping into silence as you whirl around with a giant smile on your lips. The display doesn’t seem to just affect you either, a light smile painting across Namjoon when he watches you return.

Once you sit down, Namjoon starts going through the notes and textbook sections you were having trouble with, something that truthfully surprises you when he explains each and everyone effortlessly. He later explains to you that his swift ability to learn easily makes him a great teacher, a small detail Yoongi was very aware of when he quickly swapped a whole team of members helping you for a single coach.

Time passes by faster than you can imagine, and within a mere handful of days, you begin to realize that you’ve made a lot of progress thanks to Namjoon’s help. You’re also especially grateful that he’s the one teaching you, having you thoroughly understand everything so well that the lingering thoughts of not being able to play doesn’t dwell and settle in your thoughts for far too long.

However, you can say Yoongi’s occasional visits do bring some nostalgia. His disinterested and blank expression concealing the ways he drops over bags of snacks whenever he gets the chance, or when he observes you and then whispers to Namjoon about how you’ve been holding up. It eventually gets to the point that when Yoongi doesn’t show up, you find yourself sending fallen gazes at the door and simply resume back to understanding what Namjoon was talking about with a dreary sigh.

Thankfully with his help, you eventually ace your recent tests and your grades take a turn for the better, shooting up in such a way that only has you ecstatic from the results. So when Namjoon suggests that your progress is a great indication of you returning to the team, you are practically jumping for the opportunity to race back into that gym.

Which is exactly what you do – the forecast of astonished expressions suddenly lighting up in the room at your presence, your roommates and at the time former team members dashing over to you.

“You’re back!!” Taehyung exclaims, grabbing you into a hug that leaves you giggling. Jungkook tosses a basketball over in your direction, a relieved sigh escaping your lips when you’ve truly just missed dribbling it and he sends you a smile.

One by one all the members come over and welcome you back in, instantly lining up when Yoongi aimlessly walks in, dazed eyes trained on the ground. Though when he finally looks up and his eyes rake over his team members, they become bewildered at the sight of you. 

“I passed.” You enthusiastically inform him, waiting for a simple hum of his lips or a slight nod indicating that he knew why you were here. However, Yoongi instead fully smiles, a gummy grin stretching across his lips and eyes crinkling.

This time around, he doesn’t even think he could have possibly hidden the fondness in his smile.

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 22

Chapter twenty-two: Apollon's birthday

.

It was rare, that Ares and Apollon actually got along.

But their roles in the Trojan War four hundred mortal years earlier had given them a thing or two to bond upon.

Today was Apollon's birthday.

The god of light, music, healing and plagues made surprisingly little fuss about it, considering how often he insisted on being in the centre of attention, like the pretentious prick he often was. Yet, when it came to celebrating the anniversary of the day he was born, he asked for it to be treated like any other day. He never threw a party or allowed the others to throw him one, though he did accept birthday gifts and wishes. He didn't even remind people, that it was his birthday. Which was why it happened sometimes, that one god or the other completely forgot about it.

Ares wasn't one of those gods – he always remembered his siblings' and half-siblings' birthdays, every single one. That was his subtle way of showing, that he cared.

And that was why today he was himself to sit with his half-brother and endure his fancy and pretentious music, even though he hated it. Ares liked the sound of war flutes and Spartan war drums, but apart from that, music wasn't his thing at all.

The Mousai weren't present (they were busy spreading inspiration on earth), so the two so opposite half-brothers were alone – except for all the animals, who had heard Apollon's music and had gathered to listen. The god just had that inviting and calm vibe, that drew animals in, especially when he sang and played his lyre. Ares on the other hand had a farouche and cold aura, which kept most at a distance.

When an old she-wolf placed her head onto Apollon's lap, he paused his music for a moment.

“Hello there, old girl”, he chuckled and fondly stroked her head.

Ares couldn't help but sigh in relief, because he had been close to falling asleep from the lulling music.

Apollon looked up. “Ares, you don't have to sit here and listen to me. I know you don't like my kind of music.”

“Meh, it's fine”, Ares assured him. “Just thought I might as well relax a little.”

The younger god smiled: “If it's relaxing enough for you to fall asleep, I do not mind. Besides, you look like you could use a nap. And a make-over.”

The war god blinked. “Huh? Do I have bags under my eyes again?”

“And dark rims. Also a few frowning wrinkles here and there. You look like an overworked middle-aged mortal.” The blond handed him a mirror.

Ares beheld his own reflection and laughed: “Oh fuck, you're right! I look like shit!”

He concentrated on his reflection, his face freshened up and he looked as youthful as gods were supposed to (though he still looked older than the other second generation Olympians).

“Better”, the war god nodded in satisfaction. “An' don't worry, Sunny. I'm fine. I just didn't get any sleep last night, no thanks to Zeus an' Hera.”

“If you say so”, the god of healing said doubtfully.

“Trust me on that”, Ares assured the younger man, despite both of them knowing, that he was lying – the fact, that he was referring to his own parents by their names gave it away. But the god of truth had the tact to accept the lie without back talk.

“I still think you should treat yourself to a day off for self-care, though.”

“Ya know I take care of myself as best as I can. I treat my body like a temple.”

“That's true”, the other admitted. “You have your physique to show for it.”

“Damn right.” Ares grinned and elbowed him playfully. “Admit it, ya like my looks. I've seen ya checkin' me out.”

“I wouldn't deny it, even if I could”, Apollon admitted candidly. “You are quite a handsome man – but also really unlikeable. So do me a favour and don't think I'm into you, just because my eyes have been wandering.”

“Rest assured, I don't”, the older god replied. “I wouldn't want ya to be anyway. Ya know how I feel about gettin' involved in that stuff. Speakin' o' which …”

“Yes?”

“When are ya gonna tell Hermes?”

The blond blushed bright scarlet and began to stutter helplessly, until Ares finally took pity. “Never mind, just take yer time. There's no such thing as bein' too prepared, after all.”

Apollon arched an eyebrow. “That's coming from the war god, who rushes into battle and immediately starts slaughtering people left and right, without so much as an actual plan?”

“We're not talkin' about my main job here”, Ares retorted. “I separate my work from my private life. My work is wreakin' havoc among mankind an' bringin' war, as well as performin' the duties of a crown prince – ya know, representation, paper work, all that jazz.”

Awkwardly, Apollon rubbed the back of his neck and admitted sheepishly: “I always forget that you're the crown prince and how dutiful you really are – how much father trusts you with.”

Ares shrugged: “It's okay. Besides, the fewer people know, how much I know, the better. I don't need them pesterin' me with questions about stuff I've sworn to be silent about.”

The blond smiled wryly. “Pretty ironic, how much we know and how little of it we're allowed to tell, isn't it?”

“It is”, Ares agreed. “An' you've seen how Daddy's Owl of all gods failed miserably to handle my princely duties; how she got us into trouble with the Romans.”

Apollon shook his head. “I can't believe she failed at that. Of Pallas Athena, one would expect that she's careful and tactful.”

“Don't blame her”, Ares told him. “She's got the brains for it alright. What she lacks is experience. An' she never got the chance to get it, 'cause I'm not allowed to talk to anyone about it, let alone tell 'em how that stuff works. That stuff is confidential, it's between Zeus, grandaunt Thémis an' me, just like the works of fate are between him and you. There was no way she could've known, especially with how introverted she is.”

“I suppose you're right”, the younger god relented. “But still … you saw them back then. They were so … it was as if they were just waiting for an excuse to come at us.”

“Oh trust me, they were!”, Ares grumbled. “I've been dealing' with them for many centuries. The empire they're dreamin' of is yet to come, yet they're already itching to subjugate the entire Mediterranean, like the hubristic and power-hungry fucks they are (especially Mars – ugh, I hate that arsehole!). Even though as to date Roma is just a small city in Italy, they already act like they own the world- hey, Apollon, are you okay? Shit, what's wrong, you're shaking!”

“Ares … did you hear, what Mars said, before you interrupted?”

“I came right in as he was getting into my mother's face and started to brag about their so-called glorious future.”

“And he said, that he and his pantheon could always fix their problem of not having a god like me … Ares, you should have seen his face!”

“Oh, I did!”, the older god snarled. “And I swear on my immortality, if the situation hadn't been so dire, I would've run a spear through him right then and there!”

“I've seen the future”, Apollon choked out – he was obviously on the verge of tears. “I've seen what is going to happen. The Roman gods and their mortals are going to … they're going to … oh Khaos, I'm frightened!”

“Hey! Hey!”

Before the light god could have a full-on panic attack, Ares grabbed his shoulders.

“Stop!”, he ordered, calmly but sternly. “Look at me. Deep and slow breaths, do you hear me? Deep an' slow.”

Wanting to help a little more, he allowed Apollon to lean into him. Ares hated body contact, but his younger half-brother needed the physical proximity right now. So he sucked it up and gently rubbed the other's back, as the blond sobbed into his shoulder.

“Shhhh …”, he murmured, “Yes, that's right … just breathe. Listen, okay? Whatever scares you, it's yet to come. It's far ahead. Focus on the now. You're safe. You're with family. No one can hurt you now. Everyone and everything's alright. Shhhh …”

Somewhere along the line, the animals that were still here drew nearer and nuzzled the blond, sensing his distress in the way that only animals really could.

Ares couldn't help but chuckle at the display. “Animals really love ya, huh?”

“So what?”, Apollon grumbled defensively. “Not everyone can be the unapproachable, stoic guy you are!”

“You flatter me, but I wasn't making fun of you. Here …” The black-and-red-haired god charmed a box of tissues into his hand and offered it to the other. “Want some?”

The Archer accepted the tissues and dabbed his face. “Thanks. Crap, that was pathetic …”

“Don't say that. It's not pathetic to be scared of the future – especially, if you know how shitty it's gonna be. But if you let it distract you from the present, it'll hurt you and ruin your life. So let's not talk about the future anymore, hm? After all, today's your birthday.”

He felt the younger god sigh into the crook of his neck.

“You're right. Thank you, Ares. For being so understanding.”

The war god chuckled: “Hey, we may not get along most of the time, but you're still my brother.”

“Half-brother”, Apollon corrected. “Do you remember, how you used to remind me of that all the time? How you always called me 'bastard', 'whoreson' and other charming things like that, and used the epithets 'Letoides' and 'Latôios'¹ in the most derogative manner you could?”

Ares laughed sheepishly: “Oh yeah. I did that, didn't I? Sorry for that.”

He could hear the smile in Apollon's voice, as he accepted the apology.

Eventually the light god backed away. “I think I'm better now. Thanks again. I really needed that, I guess.”

“Yeah, I could tell. An' you're welcome.” Then he had an idea and smirked lopsidedly: “So, Sunny. Wanna hear somethin' crazy?”

The younger god shrugged: “Sure, what is it?”

“Has anyone ever told you I can actually sing?”

Apollon chortled: “Yeah, right! I'll believe it when I hear it!”

The older god's grin widened: “Play one of those cheerful dancin' songs you always perform at Dionysos' parties. And I'll sing to it.”

Apollon grinned back and picked up his cithara. “Alright, Andreiphontês². Show me what you've got!”

.

Athena was making pottery again.

Apparently Zeus and Hera had had another vicious domestic and a lot of earthenware had got shattered. So they needed new vases and pots.

With a sigh she molded the rim of the pot.

Really, when would her father and his wife finally get to their senses and get marriage counselling or something like th-

“ATHENA, I NEED YOUR HELP!!!”

Athena yelped in surprise, as Hermes bust through the door, and accidentally squashed the still soft clay pot, rendering her work for nothing.

“Thanks a lot, Hermes! Now my work is ruined and I have to start all over!”, Athena snapped, scrapped the clay and angrily threw it into a bucket of water.

“I'm sorry”, he mumbled in the smallest voice she had ever heard him speak with.

That made her sit up more straightly.

“What do you want, Hermes?”, she sighed. “Please make it quick, because Zeus and Hera are going through earthenware like papyrus and I have a lot of work still ahead of me.”

“…”

The goddess's bright blue eyes narrowed. “You better not walk away like 'it wasn't important after all', after you made me ruin my own work! You busted in here and yelled at me to help you, so whatever it is, spit it out!”

“I … I just … want advice for a present.”

Athena blinked and tilted her head. “Present?”

“Yes … present. Because today is Apollon's birthday.”

“Oh.”

Forgotten was the ruined pot.

It had almost slipped her mind (just almost, but still), that there was a birthday today (because for some incomprehensible reason Apollon insisted, that the mortals should celebrate his birthday, but not his fellow gods). He didn't even bother to remind others, when it was his birthday, even though it clearly hurt him, when they forgot.

“You want my advice on what you should gift him?”, Athena queried, as she washed her hands. “Listen, I may be the goddess of good counsel, but you know Apollon much better than I d- oh no, Hermes, no! Don't give me that look! Stop it! Stop giving me those puppy eyes! Anything but those damn puppy eyes!”

“Pweeeeaase”, Hermes whined and the puppy eyes intensified.

She sighed and dried her hands off. “Alright, fine. Well, I think you should give him something useful. Something he could use in everyday life. Hmm … he already has a lot of tunics and brooches and so on … oh, how about a hairband? With his impossibly long hair, he could always use one. Wait, I think I have a few pretty ones …”

She went over to her cupboard, got a wooden box from it and put it onto the table. “Here you go. You can pick two out of these – only two”, she added warningly, when Hermes eyed the hairbands with a scheming expression.

The god of thieves huffed, but began to search through the bands for two he deemed good enough.

But he seemed to have trouble deciding. “I don't know, they're all so pretty …”

“Pick something that fits his hair and eye colour”, Athena advised.

Hermes muttered under his breath, as he rummaged through the box.

Eventually he gasped and picked out two hairbands – both ruby red with golden embroidery.

“Ohhh, these are perfect!”, he squealed in delight. “They'd look so beautiful in his hair! Thank you so much, Athena! You're the best big sister! Oh boy, I hope he likes his birthday present! Bye!”

Then he made off with the new hairbands.

The goddess of wisdom sighed and inspected the box, if more than two hairbands were missing. And sure enough, that little bastard had stolen three: a dark green one, a bright blue one and one coloured like bronze.

The black-haired woman shook her head with a fond sigh.

That silly, little kleptomaniac …

.

Hermes hurried across Olympos, eager to deliver his own present.

It took a while to find the person it was intended for.

To his great surprise, he found Apollon sitting with Ares on the sill of a large window.

To his even bigger surprise, Apollon was playing his lyre and Ares was singing to it.

That sight was absurd in a lot of ways, last but not least because of the fact, that those two almost never got along and had absolutely nothing in common, save their father and their terrifying anger.

Hermes hid behind a pillar and spied on the two from behind it.

The two so different half-brothers seemed to be having fun.

Something about this bothered Hermes. A lot.

Why are these two sitting so close together, why are they genuinely laughing with each other, why are they smiling like that, since when do these two make music together, Ares doesn't even like music, this makes no sense whatsoever, since when does Ares even like spending time with Apollon, hey you big bully, get away from my beautiful sunshine, wait, when the fuck did I start thinking like that, what the fuck is even going on here-

Luckily, before the brunet could rile himself up he remembered, that Ares was very much straight and Apollon wasn't into people with Ares' demeanour.

Hermes giggled. Silly him! He'd been jealous, just because those two were getting along for a change!

Apparently the two men had heard his giggling, because they abruptly stopped their music and looked around in alarm.

“Did ya hear that?”, Ares noted.

“Yes, and I do hope that was just Hermes”, Apollon remarked.

“SURPRISE!”, Hermes shouted, jumping out of his hiding place.

The other two men screamed and Apollon dropped his lyre in shock. The animals that had been chilling with them, hurried to escape the perceived danger.

“DAMMIT, SQUIRT!”, Ares squalled, “WHY'D YA SNEAK UP ON US LIKE THAT?!”

“Yes, for shame!”, Apollon gasped out. “That was uncalled for, Hermes!”

“Are you kidding?”, Hermes cackled, “That was a riot! You should have seen your faces-” But his laughter died instantly, when he saw Ares' dark expression.

“No, squirt, seriously! That wasn't funny! Sunny Boy had a mental breakdown earlier! His nerves are still raw as fuck and the last thing he needs is to have the crap scared out of him!”

The Messenger blanched, tackled hugged the blond god and grabbed his face.

“What happened?! Please tell me!”, he pleaded.

“Hermes, let go, I'm okay now-”

“No, you're not!”, Hermes cut him off. “Look at you, you're still so pale! Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that!”

“It's nothing, I'm better now, really”, the older god tried to reassure him. “Would you please let go of my face?”

“Oh. Sorry”, the brunet muttered and complied. “Can you tell me what happened now? And how you two of all gods could … uh …”

“Sit together an' actually have some fun?”, Ares supplied.

The Messenger nodded: “Yeah. That.”

“Eh, we just bonded over confidential business – and no, I won't tell ya what it was”, Ares added pointedly, when the other opened his mouth. “I just said it was confidential. And everybody knows that you can't keep a secret for shit, unless we make ya swear the Stygian Oath. So, sorry. Not tellin'.”

Hermes frowned.

He hated when others had secrets from him, especially Apollon.

The god of sunlight, truth and prophecy was actually incapable of lying, so his only other option was to either speak in riddles, or fall silent altogether. It didn't matter what option Apollon chose, because being unable to be open always took a great toll on him.

By contrast, Ares was a natural; he dodged, lied, cheated, countered any attempt at prying and feigned ignorance, like it was second nature to him (which Hermes was sure it was). What he refused to reveal, people would never know.

But this time, much to Hermes' relief, Apollon told Ares, that it was fine.

Ares shot him a doubtful look, but told Hermes: “He's seen the future and it fucks him up, because the future sucks and the Roman gods do too. That's all I can say.”

The Messenger nodded, knowing he would have to make with that answer. “Alright. Whelp, I'm sorry for my crappy timing. Should I come back later?”

Apollon smiled: “No, no. Stay here. Let's talk about more pleasant things. What did you come here for?”

“Oh, right!”, Hermes cried and flashed the blond a mischievous grin.

The blond's golden eyes narrowed. “What are you plotting, you little cattle thief?”

The brunet laughed: “Just hold still and close your eyes!”

Apollon arched an eyebrow, but complied.

The younger god giggled and lost no time in tying up the other's long hair with the new red ribbons. They really did go perfectly with those golden curls.

“What are you doing?”, the older god demanded to know.

“Just you wait … there! All done!”

Apollon opened his eyes and blinked in confusion, as Hermes held a mirror in front of him and one behind his head.

“Look! I got you new hair ties! Aren't they pretty?”

The brunet didn't fail to notice, how the cutest blush ever spread over the older god's pale face.

“Yes … yes, they are”, Apollon said and turned his head to smile at his younger half-brother. “Thank you, Hermes. I love them.”

“Happy birthday, Sunshine!”, the Messenger laughed happily and gave the other a warm hug.

Suddenly there was a click – reminding both, that Ares was still here. And currently smirking at them from behind his camera.

“You two are hopeless!”, the black-and-red-haired god snickered and put his camera back into the bag he always carried about.

Apollon began to stutter in embarrassment, while Hermes just stuck his tongue at his oldest half-brother.

“Oh shut up, you mystery-monger!”, the brunet retorted. “You hate music and I still caught you sing with him earlier! Speaking of which …”, he smirked, “… I didn't know you can sing! You sure have an amazing singing voice for someone, who despises musical activities! What a hidden talent you are!”

“If you tell anyone, that you heard me sing, I'll rip out your tongue!”, the war god snarled.

Hermes put his arms up. “Alright, damn! Relax! I was joking! Seriously, I don't see what your problem is!”

“To be honest, neither do I”, Apollon agreed.

Ares huffed: “Ya mean, apart from the fact, that I'm the god of terrible war an' singin' pretty songs doesn't fit into my reputation? It annoys me, when people ask me to sing for them. I know I can sing, but it's not really a hobby of mine. My hobbies are … ya know …”

“Blood and thunder!”, Hermes groaned. “Yes, we all know it!”

The war god grinned from ear to ear. Then he stood up. “Anyway, gotta go. Bye!”

Apollon jumped up. “Wait! You can't leave me here alone with him!”

The red-eyed god cackled: “Oh, I can and I will!”

“You're pure evil!”

“I'm necessary evil! Happy birthday, Sunny Boy!”

“Why, you old-!”

“Now, now! Let's not stoop to the level of petty insults! Have fun, ya love birdies!”, Ares sang. Then that belligerent arsehole flew up and away, leaving behind two furiously blushing Olympians.

But once they recovered, Apollon turned to the Messenger and grumbled: “I'm telling you, Hermes, he's pure evil!”

“A first class jerk!”, Hermes agreed. “Still, did he give you anything for your birthday?”

Apollon's expression softened instantly and he nodded, smiling.

In that moment the brunet understood.

To spend some time with the blond and let him talk about his cares: that had been Ares' birthday present.

.

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1) Letoides/Latôios: Son of Leto (one of Apollon's epithets) 2) Andreiphontês: Men-Destroyer (one of Ares' epithets)