#i wish i could post this whole bit on every platform i have but its like 5 minutes long

[delectabledolls]

And just a bit further analysis and commentation because sweet 1600 is my favourite line ever and omg these dolls.

From right to left cause I needed to talk about the ugly elephant in the room.

Cupid

I cannot believe how hard they flopped on the possible queen of the century especially when all of the fanarts of her in her literal corny bloomers were full of promise. Her colour scheme is all over the place but that teal is sooo not needed. That headband was bad but the fast its unpainted and sat in such a key focal point area is horrific. That dress reminds of the disaster that was howliday cleo but somehow nowhere near as ugly. She is so apple white coded (thronecoming fr) unnecessarily I thought it was bad enough when we got that blondie with apples face that no one in the world owns. The gradient on her legs, I understand why they had to change it from the original with the white symbols on top but it dosen't work and i'm praying it looks alright when the dolls arrive. Those platform shoes are actually kinda nice just unsure about that gold maybe if they were airbrushed they would look nicer. The blue around cupids eyes make her look dead and so does her heart earrings which from a distance to me look like dead beating hearts. That black bow bothers me so much why is it right there its so not needed and ruins everything the most and the money for that could of been used for the headband!

Frankie

They did them so bad with that undetailed leg, such a letdown after monster ball in particular. I think that pink on the balloon and leg detracts and is a bit garish in contrast, I wish they chose something more subtle and fitting if they are so insistent on pink. That cage is so darling charming I am def giving it to her. Apart from the blush being not the nicest they are a really nice frank doll.

Draculaura

Where do I even begin if you haven't my other first ever post I am so desperate to own her I never saw this coming at all. Asides from what I already wrote the fabric of her under skirt is to die for and every disney princess girls dream. I am desperate to the back of her shoes but her eye makeup is what a drac fierce rockers could be and her lips are I think would of been better a solid colour than the gradient they are but its no biggie. Her heart handle brella is sooo cute for lala please do it again mattel best idea ever. Those gloves are so madeline hatter way to wonderland omg I am very nostalgic to that well done mattel. That box is so shade to howliday cleo because I was going to get her box but this is it but properly good. Her bodice and earrings are just pure amazingness but her hair the silhouette and curve and the black highlights at the top are totally like skulltimate secrets 3 but without that darn treated poly (another doll I now don't need) but I hope it looks just as good in box cause just wow. Lastly, her hat is so adorbs and reminds me of a call back to dawn of the dances famous 3 pack exclusive drac who I still don't own cause being a european doll collector can suck at times.

Cleo

Finally, the diva herself whilst I am never a big fan of cleo especially G3 with her washed out eyes and blue palette this might be her best look yet. Her hair is what monster ball should of been to be honest her whole look is what it should of been. I swear we have had snakes on the top of shoes before from mh but maybe it was just ghouls alive clawdeens cat shoes im thinking of but they are still nice either way but not mindblowing like that laura. Her skirt cage is very Marie Antoinette which is so fitting but I'm not the keenest on the shape it gives her dress and the tassles that dangle from it that should of been fabric if needed. I am probably just going to get her for her hair cause thats thebonly thing I am really bothered about.

Overall

All of these are similar to their originals yet add a new delicious twist except for cupid she's rotten to her core im afraid. The spine balloons and now im just praying the packaging and eyeshadow is impeccable. Would love to do a review of these and find all the extra IRL hidden deets. Totally buying em all and drac as soon as I possible can without combusting.

just had to yap as these are some of the best dolls ever and my excitment was off the chart.

[thatstormygeek]

So, after the day where a shitload of substackers posted an open letter against the platform hosting, profiting from, and promoting Nazi creators, Hamish McKenzie finally deigned to respond yesterday. This is (the first couple paragraphs of) what he said:

Hi everyone. Chris, Jairaj, and I wanted to let you know that we’ve heard and have been listening to all the views being expressed about how Substack should think about the presence of fringe voices on the platform (and particularly, in this case, Nazi views).  I just want to make it clear that we don’t like Nazis either—we wish no-one held those views. But some people do hold those and other extreme views. Given that, we don't think that censorship (including through demonetizing publications) makes the problem go away—in fact, it makes it worse.

Basically, what he said here is "we don't like Nazis, but we do like their money." And they don't find the views of Nazis so abhorrent they do not want their business associated with them and its resources used by them. So, really they don't mind Nazis all that much.

What this does is create yet another Assholes Club.

The comments in the image are in the responses to McKenzie's note.

Asshole. Club.

Substack said "Hey, everyone welcome!" Then some assholes showed up and started making more and more people uncomfortable. People were like "um, could you do something about these guys? They are kind of making this whole place suck?" And Substack said, "Yeah, they might be jerks, but we said everyone welcome, so they can stay."

The folks who were already fed up take off at this point. They had one foot out the door already and were only sticking around because their friends weren't ready to leave. Their friends watch them go and consider heading out as well, especially the more they see the club owners palling around with the jerks.

Naturally, this emboldens the assholes, so their assholery becomes even more pronounced and harder to ignore. They are shouting and taking up much more space than they need. The group is a little bigger because some of the lower-level bullies were encouraged by the warm reception the bigger assholes were getting. The club has gotten quite a bit emptier, but it's hard to notice because the assholes insist on being the center of everyone's attention.

It doesn't take all that long before "everyone welcome" turns into "asshole fans welcome" which functionally makes it an Asshole Club because it's full of assholes and people who enjoy assholery, which are, by definition, assholes.

And as we all know, the one thing the internet needs more of is places for assholes to gather.

So congrats, Substack. You've followed the well-worn path of every other fucking website. Such bravery.

[songvitko]

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[asherlockstudy]

How to do perfect staging: a lesson from Italy

I mentioned at some point I might actually make a post drooling over Italy's Måneskin performance and staging. I was kinda bored to be honest and decided against it but then all those trashy rumours that try to bring the winners down seemed so disgraceful and embarrassing to me that I decided again to do it. Now, the truth is that their performance was a little better in the semi-final introduction act. Perhaps this was due to the anxiety of the Grand Final. This is why I am going to use photos and gifs from that act and perhaps this will show to some that the perfect package might need a little bit of everything, and not just slap your language on the audience's ears with the expectation that this alone is always enough. *Did I make this too personal?*

Anyway, I digress. And I don’t mean that the Grand Final performance wasn’t still the best of the night, I just mean it wasn’t at the same God Tier level as the semifinal one.

Here's why the Italians took advantage of the Dutch stage until its very last millimeter and way more cleverly than any other country.

This is the only act that starts from the back of the stage, where the singer Damiano David waits for us alone.

Even with the rest of the 25 competing countries, this intro makes you forget that you are watching a contest with 26 countries as guests. Unlike anyone else, Italy looks like the host, like this place belongs to them and the frontman waits for you to show you around and possibly drag you to the world of Måneskin. In fact, you almost forget it’s Eurovision - this now looks like a Måneskin concert or, even better, a more private space of theirs with an ominous industrial feel. One of the most impactful things now is the lighting. Take a look at it. Almost all contestants throw all the lights on themselves or on some important prop they have prepared. The Italians are the only ones who chose to just light the stage itself. The simple white lights on the black stage give the impression of depth and it is the only act which shows emphatically the size of the stage. Why this? Well, we already established that in the first seconds the viewers feel they are in a new space belonging exclusively to Måneskin - the lights make us feel that their area is vast and dark and we are about to be drawn to its depths.

Damiano indeed guides us to the front as he sings, where the rest of the band are on the top of a platform. The other members won’t come down and join Damiano until he sings the appropriate verse “Buona sera, signore e signori” (=Good evening, ladies and gentlemen) and accompany it with a theatrical flamboyant bow (that feels very Italian). That’s when, technically introduced to the audience after the official greeting, bassist Victoria de Angelis and guitarist Thomas Raggi come off the platform and join Damiano.

There’s nothing excessive about the visual effects. Only the use of white lights that give the perception of depth and in the background the big shadows of the group’s silhouettes. They are in the front and they cast their shadows in the back; they create to you a feeling of being trapped by them but do you really want to escape?

When the second verse starts, Victoria and Thomas take the paths left and right of the stage and leave Damiano alone. They take even more advantage of the stage and in a typical classic rock band way. These two play with the side cameras but the focus is more on Damiano, whose verse sounds more like a tongue-twister. Since the cameras are rightfully on Damiano, I must now address the elephant in the room. Damiano is particularly attractive. In fact, the whole band is almost mind-bogglingly attractive and they clearly take a lot of care about how exactly they are going to look but Damiano, as the frontman, does especially so. So let’s talk about the outfit. They all have essentially the same outfit, however it is cut differently for each based on the person’s looks and personality. Isn’t it fantastic?

Damiano, who oozes confidence and sex appeal, has accordingly the most “provocative” outfit of the four. His chest and arms are bare so that his many tattoos can be seen. I’ll talk about the other outfits later as they all have their place in the... uh... white lights.

During the second chorus Victoria and Thomas return at the center and after the chorus it is time for the first solo; Victoria’s. The cameras are now on her but the lighting remains modest to accentuate the dark beat of her bass.

Victoria is the only girl of the group and the most dressed of them all - how refreshing! Her outfit is more similar to Thomas but she is buttoned up in the front. How does she wish to underscore her uniqueness as the woman of the band? But of course, with long flamboyant girly sleeves that come to delicious contrast with her aggressive stomping and her wide strides. Both her hairstyle and her outfit is inspired or basically just outright 70′s classic rock look.

It’s time for the bridge of the song right after her solo and Damiano has his attention on her and also draws the viewer’s attention to her some more. This part of the song is lower and softer - in relative terms - that’s why Damiano “chooses” her to sing it to. The lights now turn red, the intensity rises but there’s light flirtatiousness between them, with many smiles to each other and the camera that turns around them as they launch at each other playfully.

Then the song gets darker, more intense, the guitar stronger than the bass and Damiano’s voice turns to a scream. For this part, he turns to his bro, guitarist Thomas and he now draws the attention to him.

He grabs Thomas by the neck in an intense, intimate way (that doesn’t mean sexual, just intimate. His interaction with Victoria wasn’t sexual either). It is clear that through different ways Måneskin want to stress how good and close their relations are and that their singer, who is apparently a show stealer by birth, wants to ensure that they all get equal amount of attention from their audience. I love this.

True enough, nobody is left behind! The last chorus starts with a drums solo and Damiano goes up to the platform to now meet and introduce to us Ethan Torchio. Ethan stands up and his giant shadow is on the now blue background: this is the moment for the - so I hear - somewhat shy drummer to shine in his own aesthetic. The Italians leave none of their assets to fall down and Ethan’s impressive hair rightfully steals the show.

Just like Victoria and Thomas look alike, so do Ethan and Damiano, that’s why their costumes are the most similar. Ethan has a vest that covers him more than Damiano but leaves his arms bare. Because whose else the arms do you need to see if not the drummer’s?

This song has something peculiar because it was not a song originally written for Eurovision; it slows down in the end and  does not end on some impressive note from the singer as usual but with the last solo we expect, that of the guitarist, because everything is fair in Måneskin! The focus has to leave Damiano, so now it’s the time for the visual effects to finally catch fire, literally,  because nobody is allowed to take their eyes off them! Måneskin use a huge amount of pyro that however feels appropriate for the intense chorus and the ending guitar solo.

Thomas steps up for his solo and I forget we are in 2021. This is the most 70s thing I would ever hope to see.

In a hell of pyro, Thomas looks like he was tranferred right from a 70s rock ‘n roll concert. His outfit would be gladly taken by Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. The unbuttoned jacket with this boho tie, such a classic 70s fashion touch. His haircut and even his FACE are the epitome of the 70s - what an ending sequence!

But hey we reached the end and this is Eurovision, the song slows down dangerously. Like I said, the Italians forbid us to get distracted. The attention must return to Damiano ASAP. Damiano says one last line and takes the audience with him to the very end with a death drop.

There you have it. Måneskin had me holding my breath for the full three minutes and I did not want to take my eyes off my TV. There are countless shows that are awesome - in this very Eurovision as well - but I was impressed by how they seemed to have found the perfect balance for everything in every single moment. They found the perfect stage concept for the song, they relied on visual effects only when they needed them and they stressed every twist and turn of their sound with a perfectly fitting move or interaction. They also all effortlessly could hold your attention and they made sure that they all would, with members often helping bring out other members. This performance was beautiful and, above all, clever which is why it was undoubtedly the worthiest of the win.  

[sunookkii]

hey i know request are closed but this idea just got stuck in my mind and i wanted you to write sum about it if you like it 😭 so basically its an enha reaction/scenario ? where they forget your birthday, (maybe not in a bad way but i dont mind if its angst) hope ur good btw !! <3

a/n : OMG WAIT SRY TO ALL THE OTHER REQUESTS BUT THIS ONE FOR SUM REASON REALLY STUCK OUT TO ME i hope you enjoyyy ;) also I wrote so much I’m so sorry- [not really read proof~]

Also i am well ty for asking >.<

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.enhypen imagine ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Enhypen forgetting your bday~

Genre : angsty ish

Warnings : mentions of food, crying, one swear word??

Requested : yes ty beautiful person ;)

Heeseung :

Okay okay so its your birthdayyy and you were really excited for what to happen because you wanted to see what kind of surprise your boyfriend did for your birthday

But to your luck he forgot :(

So you spent all day giving him hints like ‘what day is it’ and at one point you gave up and started pouting really hard

And your face was just overall sad everyone else had remembered your birthday including the members, but for your boyfriend to forget it lowkey hurt

Almost half the day passed and he still didn’t remember

So you ended up going into the room by yourself and started to cry

Your whimpers got louder and louder even though you were trying your best to stay quiet so he doesn’t hear

A few minutes past by and heeseung started looking for you because he sensed something was wrong.

He looked on the calendar really really carefully and FINALLY he came to his realization that it was your birthday but it was kinda too late cuz you hid yourself in your room to cry.

He came into your room to wish you a happy birthday but he sees you curled up into a ball crying to yourself

He felt so bad after this happened, “IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME I WONT EVER GORGET AGAIN!”

He hugs you so tight as if your life depended on it, won’t leave you out of his sight for the rest of the day. You’ll be hearing a lot of hbds and ilys for the rest of the day~

^ so yeah 🤕

Jay :

I feel like it’s rare that he forgets these type of dates buut for the sake of tumblr lets pretend he completely forgot 😧

You woke up in a great mood because it was your birthday of course

You were expecting to be receive a hbd wish from your boyfriend, but nope nothing all morning.

You received a bunch of hbd wishes on Instagram and other platforms mentioning you, but none of them were from jay :(

You quickly got frustrated and because it was your birthday and your bf the person you love most didn’t remember really hurt

So gradually your face became wet from heated silent tears. But unlike heeseung he would super quickly notice because he’s on his phone a lot and he dates things like ‘y/ns bday’ (idk but I imagine him dating things on his phone)

He’d then be like OH SHIT ITS YN’s BD

Runs to you soooooo quick just to see your face red and a bit wet.

Once your eyes connected your tears started to come out quicker

He literally runs up to you to hug you HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IM SO SORRY I FORGOT

After he said that he ran away from you leaving you alone, which made your heart drop thinking that he didn’t care.

But once you finally came out of your room you were greeted with a homemade delicious cake your boyfriend made for you that looked like this

You could tell he felt really bad bc usually he always had a smile on his face while cooking but this time it was a ‘I’m sorry’ face

“I’m really really sorry please forgive me”

All was forgiven bc the cake tasted so mf ing good

Jake :

It was your birthday today, a day that only came once a year so like any other human being it’s a special day for you

You were super excited to see what Jake did for you, because every birthday you had with him was always such a surprise

But today was sort of… different? :(

You saw jake in the living room on the tv and went straight up to him with a smiley face. “GOOODMORNINGGG” 😁

After cuddling for a while on the couch you lifted up your head and asked him If he knew what day it was, he just replyed with a simple Wednesday? With a confused face

I’m pretty sure that one word was enough to make you pretty upset 😅🥲

You started to pout and went back into his chest with a disappointed face.

“Ahh what what, what day is it tell me?” He said playfully, not realizing it was your birthday.

You stayed silent as he checked his phone, ‘y/n’s birthday don’t forget’

When i tell you he gasped he GASPED.

You were already in the verge of tears “IM SO SORRY HBD BABY”

You were still a bit upset at him so you replied with ‘did you really need your phone to tell me what day it was’ 😕

He hugs you tighter while mumbling ‘hbd hbd hbd’

Suddenly let you go of his arms and said he had an errand. Without any explanation he got his car keys to go somewhere leaving you and your thoughts by yourself.

‘Does he not love me anymore that he doesn’t even want to spend time with me on my birthday? ☹️😭”

A while later he comes back and you’re luckily still on the couch where he left you

^^this dude came back with three beautiful cakes from your local cake stores. “I’m bacccckkkk!! please forgive meeeee you know i love you with all my heart 🥺” (okay i hate to use this emoji but there isn’t any other way to describe it TT)

You obviously forgave him because you know it was never his intention to forget,,, “you owe me hugs and kisses for the rest of the day :(“ kindly accepts your request because that is something he’d never complain about #freecuddlesfromyn

Sunghoon :

Okay but like hear me out he’s the type of boyfriend that would ‘pretend’ he forgot your birthday but he actually didn’t

So when he ACTUALLY forgot you just thought he was joking until…

“Hooonieeee, stop joking around I’m seriouss”

“I’m serious too i seriously don’t know what day it is”

“What…”

You leave him for a bit alone with his thoughts, not even gna lie if he did end up forgetting your bday it would take him a while to remember it

But once he remembers he feels so bad 😭

Tackles you with so many hugs and bday kisses and showers you with I’m sorrys and hbd wishes

genuinely ask himself how he forgot the lohls birthday (love of his life’s) literally beats himself for it

And you have to tell him that it’s fine and that you forgive him~

Brings out the birthday cake and sings you a happy birthday song while clapping and laughing.

Puts cake on your nose

Sunoo :

Idk if he’s the type to forget but like jay I don’t think he’d forget

I feel like to him birthdays are the MOST special thing/ date for a person

Like obviously the rest of the members think that but especially sunoo really like sticks to this

So if he had forgotten your birthday you were sooo hurt you ignored him the whole day keeping your distance until he finally remembered

Once he remembered he went to go find you ASAP where you were hiding int he corner of the bedroom moping

He showers you with hugs cuddles kisses pecks, you name it he does it

He feels so bad that he could forget smtg like this, literally asks himself how he could forget such an important date

If the convenience store was still open he’d run to the nearest store and surprise you with a birthday cake. But not just any cake it’d be a cake that was decorated by the one and only Kim Sunoo

Would prepare it so nicely and even have a lit up candle so you can wish on it.

the type to surprise you with it even though he forgot. Brings it to your room while singing the hbd song.

Puts cake frosting on your nose #2, takes lots and lots of pictures to post on insta later

caption : “happy birthday sunshine~”

Jungwon :

he was on the couch as per usual just scrolling through his phone to keep himself occupied but also updated

Not knowing what day it was,,,,,,,

you come outside of your bedroom excitedly to expect a wishful happy birthday wish from the person you love most

But for some reason it oddly seemed like a normal day

“Wonnniiieee my loveeee, guess what day it is!” You said with a sheepish smile

“Hmm wednesday?” He said looking up at you with a calm face

Your happy smile soon became a little pout

“You really don’t know?”

“Isn’t it just a regular Wednesday? Why is there something special?”

oh my- he broke your heart right then and there

You run back into your room because you feel heated tears about to fall, even though it was something small the thought of him not remembering your birthday the day of your birth hurt. A little.

Jungwon was actually super clueless he genuinely didn’t know what day it is but something about you seemed off and the way you ran to your room was quite odd to him so he went and followed you

Before he opened the door he already heard small whimpers from the corner of the bed, and that immediately triggered him and he was about to beat up anyone that made you feel sad 😠 little did he know it was him who made you feel that way

“Baby what’s wrong? Why are you crying”

He holds your chin and turns it to get a better look

wiping your tears with his thumb, you were being a dramatic his giggles make you feel a bit better even though you were mad at him for forgetting

“You forgot my birthday.” You said to him while crying

You can literally see the gears in his brain start to turn when his face went from 😄 -> 😳

“IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY” hugs you so tight that you literally can’t breathe

Doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better, “I’m really sorry for forgetting your birthday, I don’t really know what got into me, please forgive me.”< cue the cutest kitty puppy eyes

He kept on rambling on abt how he was sorry and deserves your forgiveness you literally had to shut him up, he was sorry please forgive him >~<

Cuddles you for the rest of the day

Niki :

He was playing video games normally on his phone, until you excitedly stormed into his room “hiiiii babbbbyyyy”

“Well someone is happy today :)”

“Well of course bc u know what day it isss ;)”

“Wednesday?”

😧😦 < that’s what you looked like when he didn’t know, “you really don’t remember?”

“hmm I’m not too sure” he said before going back to his game

you slowly became disappointed and just ‘celebrated’ your birthday by yourself in the kitchen. :,((

he didn’t notice that you were sad at first bc he was busy playing on his phone, around an hour later he went to the kitchen to get a snack when he sees you in the kitchen staring into space rested your chin on you arm.

‘Are you okay? You seemed fine earlier’

You decided to play the silent game and just avoided him... so he tried to get you to talk to him but after a while it didn’t work so he sort of gave up and went to ask his hyungs what’s wrong with you.

“Niki,,, it’s y/n’s birthday omg did you forget??????” Jake said texting niki

and that’s when the lightbulb in his brain turned on

He rushed to the kitchen and back hugged you so tight and gave you so many cheekie kissies to try and make up for ‘forgetting’

But to his luck you were still mad at him

Soooo he came up with the idea of going to the convenience store really quick to get you a bunch of flowers and a nice cake to surprise you~

You ended up forgiving him because he was tickling you threatening you to forgive him

N knowing Niki he’s not a person you can be mad at for long <3

[calpops]

forgotten | c.h.

Its not unusual for your birthday to be forgotten by many; it’s never a surprise to receive last minute, half hearted texts from friends or belated cards from family. It’s always been easy to let it roll off your back when you have Calum by your side. But the first year he forgets your special day, it crushes you.

aka it’s my birthday and I’ll post relatable angst if I want to :)

1.8k words

my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

* * *

Calum comes home with a heavy feeling in his chest as he notices all the lights are out. It’s only just past eight; usually there would be at least one glowing window lit up by lamp light with you sat with a book in wait for him. Tonight it’s dark and quiet as he enters the house. Soft music doesn’t spill around the corners. The tv isn’t a muffled call to your bedroom. Duke’s paws don’t even click as they come around the corner to greet him. It’s silent and empty and it all echoes around him as he slips off his shoes and goes in search of you.

The bedroom door is closed, no light spills under it. No noise breaks through the wood. His hand apprehensively reaches for the doorknob, trying to be quiet as the night falls on his shoulders. The door softly swings open with a sigh and as his eyes become accustomed to the dark he notices the shape under the covers. You’ve tucked yourself in, a spill of hair on the pillow, arms pulling the sheets taut up around your chin. Duke laying beside you, undisturbed and too uncaring to move from his perch. Calum smiles, soft and serene as he winds way around the bed to kiss you goodnight.

He stops short at the sight of you. Moonlight glimmers against tear tracks down your sullen cheeks. Red, puffy eyes stay tightly shut. Calum’s smile quickly turns to a frown, an ache consuming him as he drops to a knee and reaches gentle fingers out to stroke through your hair. He doesn’t understand why you’re feeling this way but it doesn’t stop him from consoling you. Your eyes flutter open slowly and as you register his presence you bite your lip as fresh tears gather in your eyes.

You pull away from him, bury yourself back under the covers and stay silent.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Calum’s voice is soft and encouraging, trying to coax some words out of you. When you don’t speak, only slightly shake as his hands glide over your arms, Calum feels crestfallen. The silence threatens to swallow him whole. Usually, he knows what’s wrong, can pinpoint the reason for your emotions and pain.

“It’s nothing, okay, it’s just stupid.”

Your explanation is shaken and does little to instill faith in its reason. Calum shakes his head. He wants to tell you that there’s no such thing as a stupid reason for being upset but the words stall in his throat as he tries to climb in next to you but you make no room.

“It’s like this every year. I should be used to it by now.”

Your next explanation further drives Calum to worry. In a snap moment, like a wave crashing over his head, he finally understands. His hand darts to his phone in his pocket, your birthday lighting up the date on the screen. He lets out a broken and uneasy breath as all of the implications try to drown him.

He forgot your birthday. You’ve been alone all day.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.

He can feel his own tears pooling in his eyes, shame and guilt assaulting all of his senses. He’s never missed your birthday before. Has always been there from the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep. You’ve confided your dislike of the day to him multiple times; he’s noted that he’s the only one who remembers. Cards from family come in days late, texts from friends are last minute and half hearted. All you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever asked for on your special day is to have him around.

You shudder out a broken breath, shift under the sheets but make no move to let him in or come closer.

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy at the studio. That comes first, I understand,” you whisper so lowly it’s barely audible but it still cuts deep against Calum’s racing heart.

“It’s not okay, it doesn’t come first,” he tries to reassure and tentatively reaches out for you again. This time, you don’t flinch away. He takes it as a good sign. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the first person to forget, you won’t be the last. It’s always been like this.” You finally shift up and Calum opens his arms for you though there’s little hope in his chest that you might collide into his embrace. It takes you a moment, bleary eyes being rubbed and lip trembling, to get collected. Your gaze meets his. “I’m just glad you’re home now.”

His faith nearly knocks him off his knee as you collide into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Bury your face against the strength of his shoulder. Weep in a small but heart breaking way.

“I’m home,” he repeats and furrows his brows, knowing it’s not enough. His entire chest aches and his eyes burn but he holds his composure, knowing his guilt needs to be put on the back burner for you; it’s small in comparison to the emotions and abandonment that have sat with you all day. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

He almost promises that he won’t let go, he won’t leave, but a plan burns through the back of his mind and he knows his departure is imminent. He takes solace in the fact you’re exhausted enough to be led back to laying down with heavy eyelids. He murmurs and hums to you until your eyes flutter closed and he’s sure you’re asleep by the sound of your even breathing.

He stands, stretches and keeps his eyes on you for as long as possible. When he finally cuts around the corner of the bed he pats Duke’s head.

“Stay right here. I’ll be back,” he whispers to the old dog, hoping if you wake again his presence will suffice until he’s back.

He’s not gone long. His plan is simple but he hopes it’s enough. You’ve never asked for anything, but the hopes of restoring your ruined day live in petals and icing and charms. He goes back into the house and makes a beeline for the bedroom, gently wakes you and guides you up.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you rub the sleep and leftover sadness from your eyes.

Calum shakes his head, winds his arms around you and helps you to your feet. Your wobbly at first, emotionally exhausted after all of the turmoil. You lean into his side and for the feeling of your warmth against him he’s grateful.

“Trying to make it right,” he answers as he guides you away from the bed and towards the door. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left. Let me try, okay?”

You nod as you’re led out of the bedroom and to the dimly lit kitchen. Calum walks you to the bar where flowers, some with already dying petals, sit in a vase. A lone cupcake with a candle and flame sits alongside the flowers. A small breath leaves you at the effort. While Calum feels it’s lame, the last picks at the store on the shelf, his heart still hammers at the genuine appreciation in your eyes.

“Come sit,” he encourages as he props a stool around for you. You do as he bids and he looms behind you to softly sing happy birthday in your ear; each line punctuated by a small kiss to your neck, shoulder, cheek, anywhere his lips can reach. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

He brings the cupcake and the flaming candle towards you, gentle hands holding it within your breath’s reach. You turn to face him as you take the cupcake, his eyes soften as yours find his. You blow it out in one small huff and remove the candle. The frosting and cupcake are a bit stale but you share the treat with a few soft giggles and a swipe of chocolate to his nose. Though the petals are dying you pull the vase to the center of the counter before turning back to Calum to put yourself securely in his arms.

“I didn’t need the flowers or cupcake,” you start and before Calum can speak any words of you deserving more you continue on. “I just need you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His fingers stroke through your hair and his hands come to settle on the small of your back. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You’ll always have me. Any day. Every day. I promise.”

You nod against his chest, your trust and faith in him infallible even after the day of desertion and misery.

“Then my wish came true,” you whisper as your cheeks blaze at the confession. Calum chuckles as you further hide against him. “You can’t laugh at me. It’s still my birthday.”

And even when the sun rises the next day, birthday long gone and the heartache of being alone starting to be forgotten, Calum wakes you with a surprise. You sit up to see him throwing your clothes in open luggage.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed as you watch him neatly fold and then haphazardly throw garments in the bag.

“Packing your stuff.”

He doesn’t further explain and it prompts a, “why?” from you.

“So you have clothes to wear on our vacation.” He gives you a broad smile as the words roll off his tongue and he reaches behind him to throw papers onto the bed. They settle at your feet and you reach down to retrieve them, blurry words coming in and finally being processed. Boarding passes.

“Vacation?”

“Two weeks. Just us,” Calum explains as he goes back to packing your things for you. “We leave in an hour.”

The time limit pushes you up from the bed, his effort and act of grandeur making you throw yourself into his arms. Your clothes drop to the floor in favor of him bringing you closer.

“That’s more than I could have asked for,” you whisper with a crack in your voice.

Calum only smiles and finally says the words he’d been thinking for so long. “You deserve even more than this. Sorry it’s late. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

* * *

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[fairyoftbz]

insecurities | l. juyeon

🧸 pairing: idol!juyeon x (insecure) fem!reader 🧸 word count: 2.7k 🧸 genre: angst, fluffy end 🧸 tw: mentions of insecurities, doubts 🧸 a/n: sorry i forgot to post, i had a busy day and im exhausted, i hope it's gonna be enough! 🧸 requested: yes! thank you, it is very cliché but i hope this is what you had in mind! 💝

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Juyeon came home tired but happy, excited to see you again after a long day of intense practice and a show where he participated as an MC. You, on the other hand, were not as happy as he was, but you were for sure tired of something.

You couldn’t deny it, dating Juyeon had positive points, he was everything you could ask for in a man, but there were just as many negative points. He was an attractive, sweet gentleman, and it was almost impossible for him not to attract other girls, not even doing it on purpose. And it was one of your many insecurities even if you considered yourself pretty, you couldn’t help but get insecure every time he talked to someone else.

Because let’s be honest, in the Korean music industry, every single woman looks like an absolute goddess. So, when he interacts with someone, and they’re a bit too friendly, your heart pinches in pain as he gives them the smile he keeps for you and you only.

You think that they are more interesting, prettier and funnier than you, which has the ability to send your thoughts to the dark side of self-consciousness, not feeling pretty or enough next to those women. And tonight, it was hard to watch on National TV your boyfriend being extremely friendly with the other MC.

You had tried to comfort yourself that it was just a mask, that he had to look friendly and handsome on TV. However, you couldn’t help feeling disappointment and anger as he gave attentive eyes to the other MC as she explained something, his eyes falling on her lips pressed against the mic.

Juyeon walks through the main door, tossing his keys on the chest of drawers, getting rid of his jacket and shoes before joining you in the living room, happy to see that you were watching the same channel he appeared on. Eyes glued on the screen, your thumb rubbed against your lips, feeling the skin of the cuticles you scratched while watching your boyfriend feeling rough against your lips.

“Hi love,” he said as he sat next to you, pressing his lips on your cheek. You didn’t react, only emitting a slight hum as he sat comfortably.

Juyeon frowned but didn’t raise your bad mood, trying to think what was going on inside your head. Maybe you had a bad day, or you were just tired, despite scratching his head and think, he couldn’t pinpoint what had brought you in such a bad mood.

“Did you have fun?” you bitterly spat, and Juyeon’s eyes widened, surprised by your tone, the wrinkle on his forehead deepening as his brows furrowed at your attitude.

“I did. Are you mad or something?” he bluntly asked, and you sighed, taking the remote to turn the TV off, falling in an unpleasant, uncomfortable silence.

“Oh no, I’m super fine. I really enjoyed my boyfriend giving heart eyes to another girl on national TV, it was such a nice thing to watch,” you bitterly chuckled, and Juyeon’s eyes widened even more, not expecting you to pull out the jealousy card on that.

“Babe, what are you talking about? You know-”

“Please, spare me your fake confusion and lame excuses, I clearly saw what I saw. My eyes never deceive me,” you said while standing up, but Juyeon was quick to imitate you and grab your wrist to prevent you from walking away. You tried to free yourself from his grip, but he only tightened his hand around it.

“Juyeon, let me go,” you said through clenched teeth, trying to prevent the tears from escaping your eyes. Breaking down was the last thing you wanted to do in this situation.

“Not before you explain to me what this fuss is all about,” he said, irritation replacing confusion in his eyes. You let out a mocking scoff, your eyes filled with anger and disdain boring into your boyfriend’s, holding eye contact for a few seconds.

“You really think I’m this dumb? I clearly saw the eyes you gave to the other MC when you were both animating the show. Cracking jokes, giving her smiles that could outshine the sun, your eyes ogling her lips when she was talking or smiling. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch that?” you raised your voice, letting anger take over your body.

“I never did all of that, I don’t know what you are insinuating,” he spat, trying not to show it, but your words hurt him, hating the fact that you could imagine him cheat on you or fancy another girl.

“Go on social media then, you will see what I am ‘insinuating’! Everyone is already talking about how whipped you are and how cute of a couple you would look together. Some fans are even starting to make edits!” you shouted, shoving your phone in your hoodie’s front pocket.

Juyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm his nerves a bit, a gesture that had the ability to enrage you even more. Your family used to do that when they found you annoying or wanted to belittle you, and now seeing Juyeon doing the exact same thing as them really made you even more insecure about this whole situation. Your family made you feel like a real burden during your childhood and teen years that it hurt you to think that Juyeon was probably agreeing with that thought right now.

“Y/N, I don’t know what you are talking about. I was just trying to be nice, I can’t be rude or it’s mine and the group’s reputation that I’ll take down with me-”

“No it’s okay, no need to explain yourself, the message was very clear,” you said, and you finally freed yourself from his grip, your heart breaking as Juyeon sighed in annoyance again, seeing him almost roll his eyes.

“It’s not what I meant, and you know it. Don’t react like that, please,” he started, but you waved your hand in front of you.

“No, no, I got it, you-”

“Y/N, for the love of God, stop being so fucking insecure, it’s getting so fucking annoying at this point! I can’t do anything without you getting fucking doubtful, start having faith in me and in this relationship, dammit!” your eyes widened as Juyeon eventually snapped, his mouth slowly closing as he stared at you, realisation hitting him that his words and tone made a lot of damage once he saw the tears gather in your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The couch separated the two of you, creating the illusion of a painful wall that made you shiver, feeling like your apartment had lost all of its warmth on the spur of the moment. His words were brutal, and they bounced around your skull, your head turning towards the corridor to swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying not to break down in front of him.

“Y/N, I’m-”

“Leave me alone,” you replied, voice wavering as you walked out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door shut before locking it.

Juyeon sighed and carded his hands through his dark locks, closing his eyes as he thought of the words that had escaped his mouth too quickly. He cursed under his breath as the living room fell into a deafening silence, his hands linked at the back of his neck as he thought of what just happened.

“Why did I say that,” he muttered under his breath and collapsed on the couch, unlocking his phone and scrolling on social media to try and momentarily forget your beautiful face painted with a hurtful expression because of him, but it was to no avail.

He saw what you saw; the fiction, the edits, the collages, he saw and read everything. He already hated seeing you cry and being hurt, but he actually loathed himself for being such an idiot and not comfort you about the whole situation with what was happening on every social platform.

His heart shattered in millions of pieces as he pictured you crying in your shared bed, holding the stuffed animal he got you for your anniversary tight against your chest, letting you drown in your insecurities and intrusive thoughts. He loved you very much, but despite him trying to remind you every single day, your intrusive thoughts always managed to get the upper hand when you found yourself hanging out on your own or with some friends. It was as if your brain shut out everyone who tried to reassure you or make you feel better, letting you drown and struggle in your sorrow.

Yes, the other idols were pretty, but they were nothing compared to you. Juyeon had only eyes for you and cared about you and, of course, his members, but never had he thought about leaving you for someone else. His intentions were just to sound and appear nice and welcoming on TV because he knew that some fans, antis and media wouldn’t hesitate a second to bash him on different platforms and articles for his rudeness and insensitivity towards his idol colleague. And not only would he break his reputation, but also the group’s, and that’s the last thing he wanted.

However, he also understood that it was something hard to watch for you, even if he reminded you every single day that you were the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Sitting on the couch, he started reflecting, putting himself in your shoes for a second. How would he have reacted if he saw you being super friendly and affectionate to another man? Someone more handsome, nicer than him, cracking jokes here and there to see you smile and laugh.

He tossed his phone on the couch space next to him, where he wished you were instead of crying yourself in your shared bed, watching the device bounce, collide with the armrest and fall on the ground. He didn’t even fret checking if the screen cracked, head too high in his thoughts to bother.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he pressed his joined hands against his mouth, tongue poking his inner cheek as he realised he had really messed everything up. His knee started bouncing at the disgusting thought of losing you, perfectly knowing that he had to do something before you could slip through his hand like grains of sand.

Juyeon stood up and knocked on the bedroom door, softly calling for your name.

“Y/N?” he asked, and you didn’t respond, faintly hearing you cry on the other side of the wall. “Go away, please,” your strained voice barely making it to his ears, his fingers drumming against the surface of the door in frustration.

From your side of the bed, still holding that teddy bear close to your chest, you let your tears damp the top of its head, feeling the exhaustion of crying kicking in. Juyeon didn’t knock another time, trying not to push your buttons too much to save his chances to talk to you.

You heard a small thud on the lower part of the door, frowning as you wondered what it was. Deep breathings filled in the silence lingering in the corridor, selfishly feeling a bit relieved that you weren’t the only one hurt in this situation. Juyeon was a smart, tolerant man, he knew when to put his pride aside and not blame you for something you said or did. Well, it’s not the case for this time, and it’s probably exhaustion that spoke for him, and that, of course, doesn’t excuse anything, but he wanted to apologise and make up for everything.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me or hear my voice after what I’ve told you, but I really want to apologise for what I’ve said,” you held your breath to hear his faint, low voice on the other side of the door. You sat up and felt dizzy for a quick second, still holding the teddy bear against your chest, your face buried in its head as you let the tears keep rolling on your cheeks.

“I know it’s hard to date me, and I’m really sorry, I wish we had a simpler life, where we could hang out and go on dates like two normal people. It’s also hard for me to not be the type of boyfriend everyone wishes to have, but I’m so damn grateful to call you mine.” Juyeon marked a pause and ruffled his hair, pushing the front pieces away from his hair while thinking of his following words.

“I… you don’t know how much I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you. I shouldn’t have, it was the dumbest move I could ever do, but I just didn’t know what to answer. You are so pretty, so beautiful, amazing, and absolutely wonderful to have around to me, so seeing you this insecure makes me mad every time you compare yourself to someone you think looks prettier, thinner, or more perfect than you. It’s... really frustrating because I try my best to make you feel like a goddess and worth it every day, but those unrealistic society standards and god damn social media make you feel like you are not worth an ounce of love,” he took in a big breath and raised his knees upwards, letting his forearms rest on them.

You slowly opened the door behind him and dropped the teddy bear by his side, letting him know of your presence. He was quick to notice it and turn around to hug your legs tightly, your hands finding their way in his hair and started massaging his skull.

“I’m so sorry, Ju,” you faintly whispered, and he breathed in deeply against your skin as if he finally found you again after being separated from you for years.

He grabbed your cherished stuffed animal and stood up, holding it against your chest with a tender smile. He sat you down on the bed and gave you a proper hug, mouth pressing loving kisses on your forehead and temple as his hand caressed the back of your head, holding you as close to him as possible.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am. I love you so, so much, I’m really sorry for all the stupid words I’ve thrown at you,” he said, and you shook your head, squeezing your arms around his middle tightly as an answer.

“I guess I have to accept that you have eyes only for me. But you know, it’s hard to acknowledge it and believe it when you find everyone around you ten times more beautiful than you are,” you mumbled against his chest as you sat on his lap, and he nodded, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

“I know Y/N, I know. I wish I could rid you of those insecurities, my heart breaks each time I see you so unsure of yourself. You're just so beautiful and amazing, it honestly kills me to see you like this,” he whispered, and you bitterly chuckled, gently pulling away to look at him with pearly eyes, his arms around you holding you still tight, making sure that you wouldn’t go too far from him.

“You can’t do that, but maybe you can help me soothe them by keeping loving me the way you’ve done since day one,” you mumbled, and he smiled, his eyes shining with tears just like yours.

You both cupped each other’s face and sadly smiled at the other, Juyeon feeling comforted at the sensation of your thumbs wiping the tears away from his cheeks and vice versa.

“We just need time, love, but I promise I’m going to help you realise how much you mean to me and how beautiful you are. And how much I don’t care about other girls,” he mumbled, and he gently drew your face closer to his, your lips grazing against his mouth. You closed your eyes at the proximity, feeling so much love and passion in his kiss that it was getting hard to breathe.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” Juyeon pulled away from your lips and whispered against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours.

“I love you too,” you smiled, burying your face in his neck, your boyfriend kissing the crown of your head while hugging you tight.

You giggled as Juyeon applied pressure on your waist, making you fall on your side on the bed. His hand gently cradled your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone with a soft smile on his face. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against his, feeling him chuckle and gently press his lips against yours.

[caramelcal]

Trained for Sin {part two}

Word Count: 2.2k 

Ship: Luke Patterson x Reader

a/n: wow...here is your highly requested part two! YALL GOT ME FEELIN FAMOUS!! Thank you so much for every single comment, note, request, repost and message. I am so thankful for them all and I’m glad you guys enjoy my silly little fics lol...

Would a ‘Luke Patterson’ tag be something you guys are interested in, so that you would be notified for every Luke fic I post or no? It’s just a little idea right now...

From Luke’s point of view for a bit of ~spice~

Warnings: friends with benefits themes, sexual themes, swearing 

Tags: @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ilymarkchan​ @starjane312​ @miranda0102​ @katrin-okay​ @mah-gah-lee​ @fantastic-fans​ @phantompogues​ @fangirlangioma​

disclaimer: i do not condone plagiarism on my work at all, this has not been posted on any other platforms, or on tumblr anywhere else but my account (rosemoonmist) if you see anyone plagiarizing mine (or anyone else’s account) please inform the rightful author ! thank you lovelies x

Part One   Masterlist

It wasn’t a particularly normal experience for Luke to be called down by his mom, but he tried to give it no thought as he bounded down the stairs that day. He could faintly hear the sound of a car starting up and leaving outside as he turned his attention towards his mom, “Hey mom, what’s up?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he saw his mother stare down at the parcel with a slight, almost unnoticeable, frown. The older woman walked towards her son, giving him a weak smile as she spoke to him, “A h/c haired girl dropped this off for you. She seemed upset.”

That was even more confusing to Luke. Who would drop him off a parcel, and why would they be upset? He took the package off of his mother, flipping it around to look at the neat handwriting splayed out on the envelope that sat on top of the tan packaging of the parcel. That was your handwriting, but why would you send him a letter and a parcel?

Giving his mom a muttered thanks, Luke doesn’t stay around for any small talk and instead goes back up into his room, kicking the door shut behind him, all of his attention now on the parcel. Something is wrong, he knows that.

The guitar that Luke was playing before he was called down was long forgotten about as he sat down on the edge of his best, ripping the tan paper that you had wrapped the item in. You wrapped it as if it was a gift but it wasn’t. It was his hoodie he had given you the previous night in the car. Why did you not just return this yourself?

He placed the hoodie next to him on his bed, the envelope still in his hand. He was confused. Yet, as he opened the envelope and the key fell onto his lap everything started to fall into place. That was the house key he gave you so that you could come over whenever he needed you. With that, his stomach fell. No.

Luke was far from dumb, and he could already tell what this was going to be. He had dumped girls over text, he had dumped them in person, and just from the start of your letter, he knew what you were writing to him about. He just didn’t want to believe it.

Dear Luke,

This was probably not what you were imagining to get. Maybe you were imagining a present, or maybe you had a parcel that you were supposed to be getting delivered or something but this isn’t like that. Apologies for possibly getting your hopes up, but this way everything will be easier. I won’t have to fumble over my words and you won’t have to sit in embarrassment as some random girl tells you she no longer wants to have sex with you.

After that last statement, I can already tell you’ve probably stopped reading this, possibly ripped it up, or set it on fire and that’s alright. Yet, no matter how cliché it sounds, this isn’t your fault. This...Whatever we had was great while it lasted, especially at the start but now I have to search for something else. For something more...romantic.

I know you aren’t the romantic type, that had become obvious to me over the past months we have been involved with each other and that’s perfectly okay. I never expected anything more from you. I didn’t expect me to ever want anything more either but the more I watch the girls in the hallways with their boyfriend’s sweatshirts on, holding hands, kissing, hugging I can’t help but yearn for that.

I know I can never ask you to give me that because that was not our deal. I was never supposed to want anything more than meaningless sex, but I did, and I do. I’m just sorry it had taken me this long to realize this was not what I wanted; for either of us.

I think it’s best we don’t contact each other again, whether it be over the phone or in real life, not to give ourselves time to heal but to give us time to recover: for you to find a new girl that will give you everything I have and more; less commitment and more adrenaline and for me to find someone that will give me what I want. These last few months have been an interesting experience, and I wish you all the best.

I’m sorry.

You were gone, and you weren’t planning on coming back.

. . .

Luke had never been one for romance. The whole ‘teenage sweethearts' thing wasn’t for him. He knew that a lot of girls would kill to be in a relationship with him, but it was for popularity; you didn’t want that. Popularity was not a factor for you at all, Luke knew that even if he didn’t speak to you much.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke watched you too. Your small manners and quirks, and quickly became good at reading you. That was how he knew you were embarrassed in the car, even if he couldn’t see you blush. Luke knew a lot more about you than you suspected but the one thing he didn’t know was that you liked romance. Yet, it seemed that was new to you too. 

He thought you were all about the adrenaline and hook-ups like he was, and after seeing how you were on the first night you guys spent together, he thought you were more experienced than you had been. Walking through school felt different now as he glanced over at your locker, noticing your lack of presence. It didn’t feel right.

It was like an itch at his fingers, that something was off about him and he didn’t like it. Throughout the class, he couldn’t focus, his mind in a muddle and hands lightly trembling. It was like withdrawal. Withdrawal from you.

It wasn’t long before Luke walked out of the classroom, not caring about asking for teacher permission. Having a rich dad certainly had its benefits. The school was mostly funded by well-off individuals, allowing the school funds to pay teachers and make the school the best it could be, and with his dad being one of the main ones, he could get away with a lot. Luke’s dad never being around never really was an issue for Luke, he didn’t know what having a dad present was like.  Luke was just happy he could get away with a lot of things like skipping class and not handing in homework.

He made his way down the corridor, subconsciously finding himself heading towards the music department. It was abnormally quiet down there, normally the music department was bustling with sound, but maybe he would find sanity in the silence. That was what he was banking on.

A new sound evaded his senses however, the soft playing of piano keys in a nice and calming melody and he found himself drifting towards the sound. What he was met with, he was surprised. Leaning against the door frame, he watched you, your back turned to him, but he could tell from a mile away that it was you, “I didn’t know that you played.”

The piano playing stopped, indicating that you heard him, but you made no turn to move. He sighed, eyes looking over your figure before walking towards you. He slid next to you on the piano, looking over at your face, the direction of your gaze staying firmly ahead, not daring to stray to look over at him.

His gaze moved back down to the piano keys as he softly played a tune, clearing his throat a little, “Where is everyone?”

“Spirit assembly, they’ll be gone for the next two periods,” You replied monotonously as you continued to stare straight forward. Luke’s eyes stayed on the side of your face, not even looking down at the keys as he played effortlessly. You turned to face him, gesturing towards his face then to his hands, “Is this supposed to psych me out or something?”

Raising his eyebrows, Luke shook his head, his fingers lifting off of the piano keys, “What? No!”

“Whatever, Patterson,” You grumbled, getting up off of the piano seat and going to walk away, only for Luke to grab onto your lower arm in an attempt to stop you, “What?”

“I- uh- I just wanted to say you were good at playing the piano,” Luke commented dumbly, giving you a smile to which you responded with a blank stare. Luke did mean it when he said you were good at playing the piano but that was not what he meant to say. He meant to say something that would make you stay, that would get you to kiss him, to hold hands, and to be happy with him.

Because although he didn’t know it until he got your letter, he knew clearly now. He wanted to be with you, whether that meant fuck buddies, or if it meant dating with every single string attached.

“Really, Patterson? What are you trying to do here? Compliment me back into getting into bed with you?”

“Of course not,” Luke dismissed, climbing over the piano seat so that he stood right in front of you. He grabbed both of your hands, squeezing them in his lightly as he looked into your eyes, “Listen, I’m sorry.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, confusion striking you as you asked, “What have you got to be sorry about, Patterson?”

“Everything. Y/n, I-I’m sorry that I initiated this whole thing between us two with the no feelings, because from that moment on when I said no feelings I was lying to not only you to but me.” Luke started, looking down at the floor as he began to let his feelings take over. It was one of the first times that Luke ever found himself relying on feelings to get words across, but it felt good to be able to let it out, “Y/n, I always thought I would never do relationships, but with you everything is different. I would hold hands with you down the hall, run around confessing my love for you. I would kiss you and hug you until the sun rose. I would do anything for you, y/n/n.”

Luke’s hazel stared down at your eyes, his ramble coming to an end, making him whisper the end part as he leaned closer to you. Whilst one hand still held onto your hands, one of his hands was on the side of your face, a calloused thumb stroking your cheek gently as he bent down to make direct eye contact with you.

You were dumbfounded. Luke Patterson just confessed his love for you. Luke Patterson. You didn’t know what to say. You never thought that Luke would ever be the type of person to chase after a girl because he wasn’t normally. So why was he so eager about you? He never seemed to show any interest but maybe he was like you; hiding your feelings until they become unbearable.

Butterflies formed in your stomach whilst you tried your best to fight off the smile that came on to your face, looking at Luke with soft eyes, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Luke nodded his head with a light laugh, a smile on his face. You didn’t say anything in return and instead, you connected your lips with his. You had kissed Luke one hundred times before but nothing compared to the electricity of the kiss you felt right now.

Whilst normally the adrenaline flooded your veins, instead, it was love. It was different from what you were used to, but every touch of Luke on you felt like sparks, like the passion you had put into the kiss sparked electricity with it.

Luke disconnected your lips as he looked down, his hand letting go of your face as his arms went lower, beckoning you to jump up with his head, so you did. With you now in Luke’s arms, you reconnected your lips again, hands pulling on the brown strands of hair on the back of his head.

You barely even paid attention to the fact that Luke walked over to the piano as you deepened the kiss, his teeth biting gently down on your bottom lip, making you open your mouth in surprise. He took the opportunity for his tongue to explore your mouth, and you allowed it, pulling yourself closer to his chest, trying to get as close as you could to the boy. The boy who just confessed his love for you.

The spine of the piano was folded down and Luke placed the top of the piano down, causing you to disconnect your lips and look down at the sleek, polished, black top of the piano that Luke placed you on top of. You looked back at Luke, a look of hesitation to which he nodded, “Luke, no, we can’t do it here! What if we get caught?”

“You said it yourself y/n/n, everyone will be at spirit rally for the next hour,” Luke smirked, kissing you which made you smirk into the kiss as well.

With that, Luke lightly pushed you down onto the piano, climbing over the top of you, letting out breathlessly, “I love you.”

Luke didn’t wait for your response as he bent down to your neck, sucking on it, prepared to leave many marks littering your skin. However, you didn’t oppose, instead your hands made their way up Luke’s back and into his hair, letting out a gasp as he sunk his teeth lightly into your skin. 

And so the games begin.

[silkling]

Of Newfound Knowledge and Truths of a Yesteryear

Of Moments in Life AU

———————————————————————————————————

Heatwave stood on his small training platform, punching the wooden dummy and trying to ignore the rage bubbling in the back of his processor. That morning, he’d read some of the data-pads that High Tide and Optimus had left, the ones Blades had read when Dreadwing first crashed on the island. What he’d learned had made him angry, and he didn’t understand how his teammate hadn’t been angry, too.

The Decepticons…the pads had a lot of information on what the ‘Cons had done throughout the War. The information had definitely been censored and sanitized, probably intentionally so his team wouldn’t be exposed to the full horrors of the War through the data pads, but it had still been enough for Heatwave to understand.

Dreadwing had said that the Decepticons started as a social revolution. But they were certainty far from that, now. The Rescue Force, Praxus, Iacon…they’d destroyed everything that had stood in their way, not caring if those they crushed were even involved in the War or not. It made him angry, his rescue protocols screaming with rage and loss in his processor.

As the conflicting emotions peaked, he heard the sound of pedes behind him and turned to see Dreadwing. Heatwave stepped away from the training post, the platform lowering to the ground as he crossed his arms and frowned. He liked the former Deception. He hadn’t spent as much time with him as the rest of his time, but he big bot was never violent or mean. He was a little blunt, and seemed to be a bit overly aggressive in his solutions for Heatwave’s peace-orientated processor, but he wasn’t a bad bot. At least, he didn’t appear to be.

Dreadwing seemed to notice his internal distress, because the larger bot pinned him with a considering and slightly concerned look. “You seem troubled, little one.” he rumbled.

“I’m not little.” Heatwave answered on reflex, mildly indignant. He didn’t understand why the Seeker referred to him and his teammates like that. Well, he supposed he did. They were all little, compared to him. “And…I guess I am.” He looked up at Dreadwing, a hard frown twisting his features.

“So I see.” Dreadwing, for his part, now looked ever so slightly amused. “And what is it what is causing you such distress?”

Heatwave made a frustrated noise, his vocalizer clicking in a sort of nonsense babble as he tried to think of how to explain. “I just–I don’t understand. How could they have done…everything they did?”

“What are you talking about?” Dreadwing asked, confused.

“I read the data lads Optimus and High Tide left! I learned about some of the things the Decepticons did!” he snapped, frustration and anger bleeding into his tone in place of previous confusion. Just the thought of what he’d learned was enough to make his spark sing with rage.

“Ah, now I understand.” The Seeker stated, his gaze becoming solemn and understanding. “And what did you learn, Heatwave?”

“You know what!”

“I do not. Your data pads are Autobot records, youngling. While I have no doubt there is truth there, I am also quite sure that much of that information is highly biased or just pure conjecture.”

The fire truck scowled. “Oh? So the Decepticons didn’t destroy Praxus, which was supposed to be a Neutral city?”

Dreadwing paused. “They did. It was before I joined, but they did.”

“And you’ve probably done a lot too, haven’t you?” He demanded. “Killed a lot of innocent bots, destroyed a lot of lives?” he was angry and hurting and he didn’t understand how Dreadwing could have joined a cause that was so horrible unless he was, as the human say, cut from the same cloth. But he couldn’t be, everything Heatwave had seen from the Seeker since his crash on the island directly conflicted with what the youngling had learned of the Decepticons. It just made him confused and left his spark aching.

The Seeker in question was silent, observing for a moment before he dipped his head. “I have. I have done many, many terrible things. I never killed sparklings or younglings, but I have killed countless Autobot soldiers and slain more than a few Neutral civilians on Megatron’s command.” He said softly. “I have aided in the stripping and destruction of planets, and I have directly contributed to the death of our homeworld. I do not deny any of this. I am not trying to escape my past, Heatwave, or to deny the crimes and atrocities I have committed.”

“Then why did you do them? Why are you here? Why should we let you stay if you’ve done all of that?” He didn’t actually want Dreadwing to leave, and the knew the others would want him to either. But he had just admitted to having committed horrible acts. Heatwave didn’t know what to think.

If the harsh questions bothered him, Dreadwing didn’t show it. “I did what I did because, at the time, I believed I was in the right. You know how Cybertron was in the Golden Age. You know of the emurata, of Functionism, of the caste system and how it was structured. Don’t tell me you don’t.” he said. “I rose from a system that sought to oppress me, and I turned to the only option I saw at the time. The Decepticons. It was wrong, and I have come to realize that.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “I am here because I have little elsewhere I can go, and because I find myself growing fond of this place. I am here because Primus has granted me a second chance, an opportunity to do better and to be better, and I intend to take it.” Dreadwing took an extra moment to consider the last question. “You likely should not.” he answered. “I cannot change what I have done, all I can do it try to make amends and hope to find redemption one day.” He met the youngling’s gaze evenly. “But I would like to stay, if you would allow me the chance to pursue something better here.”

Heatwave held his gaze, then sagged and looked away. “Fine. I don’t even want you to leave anyway.” he sounded tired. “I won’t make you go. I don’t think I could. The others like you, and so do I. It’d just do more harm than good to everyone involved if I made you leave now.” he glanced up. “Just…tell me why. Why did the Decepticons do all of that? I don’t understand.” he sounded frustrated and helpless.

Dreadwing softened, his wings dipping down just slightly as his frame relaxed. “The Decepticons did not rise from nothing, little one.” he rumbled.

“What do you mean? The data pads said Megatron came out of nowhere and built them up before anyone realized what was going on.” He said, his anger abating in face of his even more confusion.

Dreadwing scoffed. “I am certain that many Autobot’s believe that.” his lips curled faintly, displeased. “That is, however, as far from the truth as you can get.”

“Then why would Autobot data pads contain that information as if it were fact?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

The Seeker hummed, tilting his head. “Perhaps, if you wish to have this discussion in its entirety, it would be best to sit somewhere?”

Heatwave paused, then nodded. “Lounge.” he said gruffly, leading the way. Once there, he dragged over a beanbag chair and settled into it comfortably, leaving the couch to the former Decepticon.

“To begin, I must ask how much you know about the Autobots and Decepticons as a whole, as well as how much you know and understand the political and social climate of the Golden Age.” Dreadwing stated.

Heatwave frowned. “I know what you told us when you first arrived.” he said, tilting his head. “I also know that the Autobot’s end goal is the restoration of Cybertron and the revival of our race. I know the Decepticons want to take control and lead Cybertron by force, and that their end goal is to put ‘Cons in charge and remove lots of freedom from bots under their rule.” he said. He crossed his arms, staring at a point on the floor as he tried to think. “I know that the Senate used to rule Cybertron during the Golden Age, and that they weren’t very fair and a lot of bots suffered, and that some of their regulations and punishments were extreme.” he tilted his head. “I know the caste system made the bots in the lower castes struggle a lot.” he seemed almost ashamed at this point. “I….I never paid the most attention to that, though. I was in the upper-middle caste, and my Function was something I already wanted to do.”

“Rescue work.” Dreadwing guessed.

The firetruck nodded. “Yeah.” he admitted.

“Then you know much of the very basics, though your knowledge lacks in the complexity and finer details of the full scope of the situation.” he rumbled. “You are correct. The Autobots fight for a restored Cybertron. But your knowledge of the Decepticons is…not entirely accurate.”

Heatwave’s engine growled with displeasure as he just grew more helplessly confused. “What?”

“The Decepticons do seek control, and they do seek to rule over Cybertron. That is true. It is also true that their goal is to see to the destruction of the Autobots. But it wasn’t always so.”

“Yeah, you mentioned they started as a social revolution.” Heatwave said, starting to calm down once he realized he’d be getting his answers, and without all the vagueness that came from Optimus whenever he tried to ask the Prime about the War.

“They did. But Megatron not rise from nothing, as the Autobots are so fond of believing. He rose from foundations that were already very deeply rooted. Functionism was a plague and the caste system was a rot that had sunk deep into the very core of our world.” he said, voice soft and somber. “It was a rot that infected only the oppressed and the beaten; it affected the lower castes and the undesirables, and those who lived comfortably in the higher castes did not feel the affects of it.”

“Undesirables?” Heatwave echoed, confused.

“Bots who did not fit into the world the Senate wished to portray. They wanted a Cybertron where every bot had a singular Function and operated according to that Function and ONLY according to that Function. They wanted a world where all those who were not of the Senate were subservient to them and obeyed them without question. They wanted a world that operated under the beliefs and celebrations and social structure they approved of. Those who did not fit into that world, and who could not fit into that world, were deemed undesirable.” He cast the youngling a meaningful look. “For the Senate, that included flight-frames. It is why they were so eager to see the spread of anti-flyer sentiments, to confine flyers, whether they were Seekers or not, to a single city. Flight-frames have a different base coding to ground-frames, and the Senate were all ground-frames. In their optics, flight-frames were a danger to their rule because flyers, by the nature of our frames, do not fit seamlessly into a Functionist society.” he paused. “It certainly did not help that the social structure, belief system, and cultural behavior of flight-frames was radically different to that of ground-frames, and that it was radically different to what the Senate was trying to enforce.”

Heatwave was silent for a long moment, considering what he was told. “But…you said the caste system was a rot. What did you mean?”

Dreadwing hummed, his fingers tapping a pattern on the couch; it was a very human gesture, one he had picked up from the Burnses without even realizing it. He had to word this carefully. Not because he wanted to manipulate the younger bot, but because it was a complex situation and a rather unpleasant one. “You said we’re were of the upper-middle caste.” he said carefully. “And that fits with your frame type and your Function. But have you never thought about the types of bots that fill each level of the caste system?” he asked.

Heatwave furrowed his optical ridges, shaking his helm. “No…” he said slowly. “I know…I know artists were considered among the lowest tier of the high castes. I know scientists and medics were high caste, and that the only bots above them were politicians.” he said.

Dreadwing smiled faintly. The young bot was starting to understand on his own. “Indeed. But those bots only made up a minority of Cybertron’s population. What of the others? What of the common laborers?”

“You mean, like, cleaners and construction bots? You’re right, they were more common than scientists, medics, or artists.” he said. “Like Boulder. He was originally a construction bot.”

He nodded. “They were indeed more common. But what caste did the Senate assign to them?”

“The…the lower caste.” Understanding was starting to bloom in Heatwave’s optics. “The lowest caste, for most of the laborer frames.” he realized. “That means…Boulder was from the lower castes.”

Dreadwing hummed agreement. “He was. If you wish to know more, then you shall have to ask him yourself. It is not my place to tell you what he experienced.” He sighed heavily. “But I will tell you that the lower castes, the bots who made up the majority of our people, did not often lead pleasant lives. They received little pay for their work, could not often afford decent fuel, if they could afford any fuel, and most of their pay would have to go to maintaining their living space. It oft left them overtired, overworked, and very, very hungry. It did not help that many of them had dangerous Functions, dangerous jobs, and after paying for their living quarters and fuel, they did not have the shanix for medical care. It meant the lower castes were forced to choose between their need for fuel and their health.”

Heatwave swallowed, his optics blown wide. “Oh.” he whispered. “But…why didn’t they do anything?”

Dreadwing looked almost melancholic at his question. “Most of the lower castes simply did not have the time or energy to fight against it. They were too tired, too hungry, to injured or sick, and were forced to focus purely on their own survival.” he stated. “And those few that did try to speak up…” he trailed off. “The Senate was not kind to dissenters, little one. If they did not use empurata on those who protested their systems, they used other means of punishment and silencing.” his tone was grim.

Heatwave chose not to ask what those “other means” were. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know. “It…it was really that bad?”

The Seeker bowed his helm. “Ask Boulder or Blades. They would know the best of your teammates.” Though, he had his suspicions about the means of Chase’s creation, and if he was right then the police bot might also know how bad the Senate could be.

“Boulder, I get. But why Blades?”

“The little flyer once told me that one of his brothers was a flight-frame. He would not have experienced the cruelty directly, as he was a ground-frame on Cybertron, but he would doubtless have experienced or seen it through his brother.”

“Oh.” Heatwave was starting to get the feeling that he didn’t know as much about his team as he thought he did. He really needed to fix that. “I guess I understand why the Decepticons rose to quickly then, if things were really that bad for so long.”

“Indeed.” Dreadwing agreed. “But there is one more thing you must understand.”

“Which is?” Heatwave was feeling a little sick to his tanks. He hadn’t been aware the situation on Cybertron had been so bad, but then again, he’d lived a good life. He’d had all the fuel he needed, he never worried about his health or safety, his living situation was pretty much always assured, and he actually enjoyed working according to his Function. He wouldn’t have experienced the rot Dreadwing mentioned, so it only made sense he wasn’t entirely aware of it. That didn’t get rid of the guilt, though.

“The Decepticons are made up almost entirely of flight-frames and those of lower castes. There are certainly some of those among Autobot forces, but the grand majority of them are Decepticon.” Dreadwing pinned Heatwave under a severe look. “What does that tell you, little one?”

“It tells me that the Autobots are mostly ground-frames and bots from the middle and upper castes.” he answered, suddenly understanding the War in a whole new light. It certainly didn’t excuse what the Decepticons had done, but now this…this made it a lot easier to understand.

“Indeed.” he agreed. “The Decepticons originally rose on the backs of bots who were beaten down and had little else to lose, bots whose only crime was to want a better life.” he said. “When the Senate, and later the original Autobots before Optimus Prime, attempted to beat them back down to their “proper place”, they fought back for the freedom that should have always been theirs.” His gaze went distant, as if remembering something from long ago. “The Decepticons were originally a freedom movement, little one. It was only as time wore on and the spilled energon between the factions soured that they lost their way and forget their original mission.”

“And now?”

“Now, because so many Autobots are ground-frame or originated from the higher castes, they do not understand why their enemy continue to fight. Certainly, many Decepticons fight because they wish to destroy the Autobots, but there are many, many more who only fight because they fear that an Autobot victory means a return to the ways of the Golden Age. It is something that Prime and his bots simply do not, and perhaps never will, understand.”

“So most of the Autobots…they weren’t bots who were hurt by the Senate.”

“No.” Dreadwing agreed. “Prime’s team on Earth is a good example. Prime himself is formerly of the lower-high caste, as he was a former Archivist. His scout was upper-middle caste, and while he was too young to receive his Function at the start of the War he would very easily have made a successful racer. The femme-bot was an Enforcer, also considered upper-middle caste. And of course, the medic. Ratchet was famed, even before the War.” The Seeker smiled sardonically. “He was quite firmly in the highest castes. All of them operated according to their Function, and all of them were content with it.” He tilted his head. “The only bot on Prime’s own team who does not fit that mold is his Wrecker, who was once a construction bot. He is the only one who might truly understand.”

Heatwave nodded, looking own at his lap. “I think I get it now. This war…it’s not going to end until the Autobots understand that stuff, is it? Because they won’t understand why most of the Decepticons keep fighting, why they started fighting in the first place.” he said, looking up to meet red optics.

“Yes. You’re very intelligent, little one. You learn fast.” Dreadwing slumped slightly, releasing a heavy vent. “You are correct. So long as the Autobots do not understand, then the Decepticons, at least those who only fight out of a fear of a return to the old ways, will never stop what they are doing.”

“You really know a lot about this stuff.”

“I am a Seeker, Heatwave. I experienced much of the Senate’s cruelty directly, as did most of my frame-kin.”

The Rescue Bot nodded, subdued. Now he understood. A part of him wished he didn’t, but he was glad he did. He sighed, meeting Dreadwing’s gaze again. “I think I owe you an apology, then. I judged you based on incomplete information.”

Dreadwing bowed his helm. “Thank you, little one. As I said, I certainly committed horrible acts, and I can never undo what I have done, but now I only make to make amends as I move forward.”

Heatwave nodded, smirking and straightening up. “I think you can. And lucky for you, we’re here to help.” he said.

Dreadwing blinked, before he chuckled, his wings lifting as the mood brightened. “So you are. Thank you, youngling.”

“We’re Rescue Bots.” Heatwave grinned. “Helping others is what we do.”

“So it is.” He agreed, looking amused. “And perhaps, I can also help you?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Me? How?”

“I have noticed you practicing with your sparring post. Your form is acceptable, and I am aware that the Rescue Force trained its Teams to have combat abilities, but I can help you improve. Your current skills will help you fight if a rescue mission were to go wrong, but if you wish, then I can help expand and improve your combat capability even beyond that.”

Heatwave blinked. “You’ll teach me how to fight.” he stated.

“I would be glad to, if you wish to learn. There may come a day when you must fight a true enemy, and if that day comes then greater combat skill may be helpful.” Dreadwing pointed out.

Heatwave narrowed his optics, considering the unsaid implications of that statement. “…you think the War might come to us.”

“Perhaps.” he said grimly. “I pray that it does not, but in the event it does I think it is better that you are prepared to fight against an enemy who truly wishes to see your spark go out.”

He nodded, gaze firming. The others would need lessons too, in that case. The Rescue Force did teach them all basic combat, in the event that they needed to fight off anything that might be threatening whoever or whatever they were rescuing, but their combat training had been pretty basic. If Dreadwing was right, and there was a possibility of Sigma-17 one day facing an opponent that wanted them dead, then they’d need to shape up. He stood, hands curling into fists as his shoulders lifted and determination burned in his spark. He stared the Seeker in the optics.

“Let’s do it.”

Dreadwing stood, a faint smile curling at his lips, and clapped a hand on the youngling’s shoulder. “I look forward to it.” he said, a hint of pride in his tone. Heatwave was so very young, but already he was shaping up to be a fine mech, a fine leader.

Heatwave himself only grinned, blue optics bright. “So do I.”

He’d learned a lot today. Not all of it had been pleasant, and a distinctly unpleasant feeling still curled in his tanks, but he was glad to learn what he had. The past was dark and violent, he’d come to realize. Cybertron’s history was steeped in shadows and darkness and Heatwave was certain that he still didn’t know everything, that Dreadwing had certainly omitted many of the worst of the details. Given all that, he really couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised that the War had happened.

Now though, wasn’t the time to focus on the past. Not Cybertron’s past, and not on Dreadwing’s past either. He tilted his helm up to turn his grin on the larger bot, leaning his weight into the hand on his shoulder and enjoying the small physical contact. Yes, he decided. Dreadwing’s past didn’t matter, not here. All that mattered was what was to come, and Heatwave was determined to meet whatever the future held for them head on.

For himself, and for his newfound family — all of them, even its newest addition.

———————————————————————————————————

Here it is, folks! The next installment in “of moments in life”! This one goes a little deeper into Pre-War Cybertron’s social/political climate. Heatwave got a massive reality check. He was sorta privileged, by the standards of the Golden Age, and he’s being forced to realize what that meant and what it blinded him to. Poor youngling, his entire worldview just got rocked.

As for Dreadwing, he now has another son! The next installment will be tHe Blades and Dreadwing one. It’s gonna be sad. They’re gonna talk about their brothers. That’s all I’ll say! I have prompts fo write for before I can get to it, so it’ll be a bit, but stay tuned, it’ll come out! Anyway, hope y’all liked it! Let me know your thoughts!

Until next time, folks!

[littlewitchwhore]

Okay guys, here is the first short story I'm posting.

TW: Rape, murder, some gore, racism, sexism, homophobia, a critique of the southern US, and christian references.

I do not condone actual rape, murder, racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. This is just fantasy.

And now, I present

The Hunting of Sonya.

It had been three weeks since the executive order was given. Three weeks of running from abandoned shack to drainage pipe to thickets of trees where she might be safe. Three weeks of praying to whatever would listen that she not be found. Tonight, it seems her prayers might not be answered.

Whatever progress social justice and racial equality might have made in the past years has been violently set back. It started with feminist and pro-black movements constantly being undermined by themselves and their lack of cohesion. With no set leaders and ideas, no reliable code of conduct, and no unifying goals, the members had no direction for their justified anger to be aimed at, and nothing to hold them back from extreme measures. The first major riot happened a year ago, when several peaceful protesters were shot by a couple of trigger happy cops. They didn't stay peaceful.

In one of the most gruesome incidents in recent history, those two cops, and a few others with them, were overwhelmed and beaten to death. But the death of those cops was just the tip of the iceberg. Within a month, riots were taking place in every major city in America, with from people on both sides of the argument killing, and burning the homes and business of those they fought against. A civil war seemed inevitable. Then the election happened, as it does every four years, and a very conservative candidate, on a platform of returning the country to a state of peace and prosperity, undertoned with heavy racist and sexist messages, was elected by a narrow majority. Within two weeks, there were soldiers in every city to keep the peace, and strict laws were enacted severely limiting the rights of groups that were deemed to be the aggressors in the conflict; blacks and women. And the new president was cheered, because the bloodshed mostly ended. The laws and military presence, he had always said, were to be removed after a period of time, when the country was stable again.

But after several months, and a couple isolated riots, the laws were not gone. They got worse. Blacks and women stopped being able to gather in groups larger than 5. They stopped being able to purchase and own firearms. They were even stripped of properties and business, since those could be potential staging points for further violent action. Then they stopped being able to vote after a local election put a violent but charismatic thug up as mayor, who then tried to mobilize a whole town to war against the new president. Then came the executive order that stripped citizenship and all rights from blacks and women. Black people were given a week to leave the country or be deported or turned to slaves. Women fared little better, being reduced to honored servants to white men, and bargaining chips in men's deals. In a year, America had gone from the bastion of liberty and social activism to an authoritarian, patriarchal ethno-state. And the rest of the world, being crippled by their own social and economic issues, and being utterly unable to fathom summoning the military might needed to take on the United States, let it happen.

Sonya was unlucky. She had had the misfortune of residing in Louisiana when the order came down. You see, most people had the decency to let the blacks pack up their things and make for the borders and airports. Most empathized with the plight of the now refugees, even. But the south has always been a little backwards, hasn't it? Large groups of would be slavers started patrolling and detaining blacks and lone women who they could snatch up, after all, it was only illegal to do so for a week. So when Sonya and her family had made for the border, they were taken by one of these bands of slavers. Her father had been beaten mercilessly, and killed when he fought back, her younger brother put in chains, and her mother and sister were gangraped in front of her. She would have suffered the same fate, but when they went to strip her, she caught a fat one by surprise and was able to run, handcuffed and clothes torn, into the woods.

She had barely managed to stay ahead of the men chasing her. It took her three days to finally find an old shack that had a rusty saw she used to cut the chain on the cuffs, so she could use her arms, though the cuffs themselves remained tightly around her wrists. She might have been able to saw those off too, had it not been for the owner of the shed finding her. He was not sympathetic. She had actually had to kill him to escape, after he pulled a machete off the wall and tried to kill her. She didn't escape unharmed though, and her leg was badly cut. At the time, she didnt worry about it too much, since she had to get away, but after a week of running and hiding in hovels and drainpipes, she feared infection. It certainly wasn't getting any better, and was starting to smell. And her killing the man made the men chasing her all the more obsessed with finding her. Now, she wasn't just a 'little nigger whore who needs to learn her place,' as one of them had said, she was a violent, murdering runaway slave.

Now, she finally had a chance to rest. She had made her way out of the more populated areas and was close to the bayou. She figured if there was a chance at finding help from other black folks, it would be in the places the white folk didn't like to go. Besides, her cousin Tyrell was probably still around the area, he always liked to fight and wouldn't have left. At least, that's what she hoped. She was hiding in another drainage pipe beside a small highway. It was raining, and the pipe was half flooded, but she hadn't seen but two trucks all day, so she felt safer and more comfortable than she had in a year.

She had just closed her eyes for a minute, hoping for some sleep, when she heard the engine approaching. It was a truck, by the sound of it, and it was moving slowly. It stopped very close to where she was hiding. Panic shot through her like a blade of ice. How could they have found her? Wasn't she well hidden? They never found her in a drainpipe before! She got very still, and listened intently while being poised to spring from her hiding spot and run as fast as her badly wounded leg would allow into the woods nearby, just across the pasture she was next to.

A door slammed, and a very angry sounding man's voice was soon heard berating his truck for its many faults as her went about adjusting something under the hood. After a few moments, the man cursed again and determined it was the battery that was the issue. Another moment passed, and the rain let up, letting Sonya hear things clearly. There was quiet, then a door opened, and the man said, “Hey Bubba, i'm broke down 'bout 15 minutes outta Reeves, down up on 113... Yea, daggum battery bit it 'gain, third time this week. You think you could come on up this way and gimmie a little ol' jump? Alright, well I 'preciate that, brother... yea, i'll see you soon... Yea, see you then.”

Sonya relaxed a little, fairly certain that she wasn't in any more danger than she had been, and waited for a while. After what felt like an hour, another truck, a much healthier sounding truck, rolled up. There was a greeting, and after what Sonya presumed was an examination of the broken down truck by Bubba, the truck was jumped off, rather unhappily. “Now listen, if this truck is needing to get jumped off this much, you either need a new battery, or your alternators busted. You need to get this truck to the shop and get it fixed tomorrow, if it'll even start.”

There was a couple minutes of bullshitting between the two men, and at one point, Bubba expressed an interest in finding a “little house slave” for himself, since his brother found one and was apparently very pleased with her. They seemed to be wrapping up when the first man, who was called 'Red' declared that he had to piss. Sonya jumped a little in surprise when the stream of urine landed right next to her. The pissing stopped abruptly.

“You heard that, Bubba?”

“I ain't heard shit but your fucked up engine.”

“No, somethings in that drainpipe. Coon or sumin.”

Sonya tensed up again. Was this it? Would they find her? Could she take on two of them? Could she outrun them? Those and a thousand more questions leaped through her mind in those few seconds. She readied herself to lunge at whoever stuck their face in the pipe first, then bolt for the fence. Maybe she'd be able to make it, she had always been fast before her leg was cut, even running track in highschool. For a moment, she wished that she was back then, only two years ago, but a whole lifetime ago, it seemed. She couldn't wish long, however, because a light was shone directly in her face, the flashlight from a phone, and one of the men right behind it. She lunged, fist first at the light, and was rewarded by a startled yelp from the man, followed by the soft crunch of a broken nose under her fist.

The man fell backwards, his phone flew from his hand, and Sonya landed on top of him. A moment later, she brought the metal cuffs around her wrists down on his face together, then jumped up, unsteadily in the wet ditch and on her injured leg, and bolted for the fence. The other man, on the road still, called out to Red, and started rushing over, still processing what was happening. Sonya had the upperhand though, and was scrambling over the barbed wire before the second man actually recognized that it was a human who attacked his friend. But Sonya was unlucky, and as she was getting her injured leg over, one of the wires snapped, and she felt hard, her injured leg being dragged across the remaining wires, cutting her, and tearing the strip of dirty tee shirt that she had wrapped her wound in, off. Minutes later, she was across the small pasture, at the treeline, and she risked a look back. They weren't chasing her, at least not yet. Sonya breathed a sigh of relief, then turned and took off into the trees. Even if they weren't hot on her tracks, they likely would be.

Sonya watched the sun rise the next morning, and with the light, she could inspect her leg. It was definitely infected, a puffy, angry gash that slowly oozed a foul smelling, dark green pus, tinged with streaks of blood. She needed antibiotics or she was going to have very serious issues very soon. Hungry and weak from irregular meals, dehydrated and exhausted, and badly injured, she needed a break, a safe place. The rest of that day was spent trying to find food, clean water, and someplace with medicine. She found none of those things, and as the sun was setting, she resigned herself to an awful night under a tree, and wished for more rain, so she could catch a few drops with her mouth. But Sonya was unlucky.

She dreamt of awful things that night, as she often did these days, when she could dream. She dreamt of monsters rising out of murky pools to chase her, and of spiders bursting from her leg wound to consume her. She dreamt of her father's face, broken and bloody, his lifeless eyes staring at her and he whispered “Run.” She dreamt of her mother and sister being raped, but the men doing it were red skinned and horned breasts, with massive cocks that writhed like boas and strangled her mother, and tore her sister in half. And she dreamt of the hounds of hell chasing her from the scene, and into a void that wasn't there before. She turned and the hellhouds were gone but they howled still, from somewhere in the distance. The howling seemed to get louder and come from all around her, and she turned about quickly, trying to find the source of it before snapping awake in a cold sweat. The howling didn't fade with the rest of her dream, no, it was actually getting louder. It was real. And Sonya had been in the area long enough to recognize the baying of hunting dogs when she heard it. She knew that they bayed for her, and without thinking about it, she took off away from the sound, clearly from the direction she had come.

She limped through the woods as fast as she could on her increasingly lame leg, the sound of the dogs growing louder and louder around her. They couldn't be far, at this point, she thought to herself, they were just too loud. Her lungs were burning, her leg no longer in pain, just numb, her heart pounded in her chest from fear and the exertion, and her head throbbing because she was too tired. She stumbled over tricky roots in the pale moonlight and fell hard, barely raising her hands in time to stop from busting her face open. As she struggled to her feet, the howls of the hounds like sinister thunder around her, she knew running wouldn't work. Maybe she could hide in a tree? Better than being torn apart by hounds with fiery eyes. She cast her eyes about wildly, looking for a tree she could climb, and settled on a young oak with low hanging branches. She scrambled up the tree as fast as she could, with great difficulty, as her arms were weak and shaky, and one of her legs was useless. She managed to get onto a good branch just as the dogs, three of them, rushed the tree, howling and snapping at her heels.

Whoever was hunting her, Red and Bubba, maybe the fat one she escaped, she didnt know, but whoever it was was no friend of hers, and they would be here soon. And she was a treed coon, waiting for the slaughter up here. What were her options? If it were one dog, maybe she could jump on it and keep running, but three? No chance. She couldn't wait for the men to find her, her fate would be sealed. Maybe she could move to another tree and hope the dogs don't notice? Not like she had another choice. She went higher, hoping to get more leaves and distance between her and the watchful hounds. Near the top of the tree, not as high as she might have liked, she found her chance to move trees, a pine branch that came very close to hers. She balanced as best she could on her branch, holding onto a higher one for support, and slowly crept her way along the branch to the end. She reached out and grabbed a thin pine branch above the one she wanted to step to, and hoped that it would support her if she lost her balance. One foot went across the gap, her lame leg's. So far so good, now if she could just...

A branch snapped, and Sonya fell. She landed on her bad leg and felt a hot gush from her wound as something burst, then the pain was too much, and she passed out, luckily, before the first dog's teeth found their mark.

It seemed to Sonya like an unnaturally long, and unusually uneventful unconsciousness. It was long enough and stark enough for her to actively think to herself that she should have woken up by now. Was she dead? It had been a long fall... Maybe the hell hounds has finished her off? Wouldn't surprise her, she supposed, but don't they usually drag someone down to hell? Maybe this was hell? Seemed too quiet though, hell was supposed to be bright and painful. So this was.... Purgatory? That wouldn't be so bad, she thought. At least here she wasn't someone's slave to rape. And her leg was better! At least, she thought it might be. She couldn't see anything, but she couldn't feel any pain either. She definitely still felt like she had a body, though. But death was supposed to remove you from your body, so...

She was woken suddenly, by a door opening. Her eyes flashed open and the light stung, so she shut them tight again. Then her head burst into pain from somewhere inside, and she became aware of the rest of her pain too. Her hand stung like it had been flayed, the left side of her chest ached, and her wrist was almost certainly broken. Her leg, however, didn't hurt much at all, just throbbed slightly in time with her heartbeat. She groaned as the pain hit her, and she felt woozy and sick.

“Well, look who's up. My you gave quite a fight. Oh no, don't you try and move yet.” Sonya had, of course, tried to get up, but the effort was too much, and she merely rolled over and tried to vomit, but found she couldn't. “Yeah, when you gone and broke ol' Red's nose like that, well, we didn't take very kindly.” She opened her eyes again slowly, adjusting to the brightness of it all. The man speaking was Bubba, she recognized the voice. It seems that once again, Sonya was unlucky; this time because she wasn't dead. She managed to give the man a glare, to which he chuckled.

“Now, is that any way to treat the man who been takin' care of you? Why, I coulda' let them dogs go and have their way with your leg there, lord knows it smelled bad enough to be some sorta snack for 'em.” She looked at her leg, and saw it was bandaged properly, her hand and opposite wrist too. She also saw that apart from her bandages, and a large metal cuff around her good ankle, she was naked. There was nothing for her to cover herself with either. She looked back at Bubba, who was watching her closely.

“L...le...” She tried to speak but her throat was more parched than she'd known it could be. As her mouth tried to form words, her lips cracked painfully. “Bet you're mighty thirsty, ain't ya'?” Bubba said as he pulled a water bottle from a nearby case of them. He walked over to her, and squatted, so her was closer to her level. “Now, I don't care for things being the way they are. And I am sorry about you and your kin goin' through this. I had a few good buddies of the African persuasion. But I also had a brother, bout half a year back. Your kind decided his life was worth less than a message.” Bubba unscrewed the bottle of water and put it down, just outside of Sonya's reach. “You're lucky you're a pretty little negress. Means you might not have such a bad life, if you ever learn how to act right. Time's they are a-changin'. Now you gotta get used to that fact real quick. You can't be doing that runnin' 'roun' throwin' hands business no more. You are a slave now. You act nice and you look pretty, and you don't throw no fit when a man decides you're better used in bed than the kitchen. You got that?”

Sonya glared again at him, but she didn't have much strength left to try to fight the notion, nor did she think she would get any water if she did. She begrudgingly nodded, to which Bubba smiled. “Good. Now imma' give you this water here, and you're gon' sip it real slow like, because you drink too much at once and you're gonna throw up. Then, imma' go and find you something to eat, so you don't waste away there. And when I come back, you're gonna thank me for being so nice and considerate, and for my attentive care to your wounds.” He moved the water where she could reach it, and then walked out, closing the door behind him. Sonya grabbed the water and sipped, as she was bid, since that was all good advice. The cool water actually hurt going down, but she had never known something so wonderful before.

She was alone in the room now, sipping water as fast as she figured she could keep it down. It was a small room, dark brown carpet only a few shades lighter than her skin. The walls were fake wood paneling, the ceiling white and popcorned. The walls were bare, save for a single window, boarded up. There was no furniture in the room. The cuff around her ankle was connected with a thick chain to the only thing of note (besides the case of water by the door) in the room, a large chest freezer, which the sat on top of the chain, effectively keeping her leashed. She tried to think of some way to escape, but her options seemed very limited. And until she had some strength back, there was no way she could get far, even if she did find a way to leave.

Her planning was disturbed by Bubba coming back, this time carrying a paper plate with a sandwich and some chips on it, The breakfast of kings. He walked over and placed the plate down where he had put the bottle of water, just out of her reach. “Now, I reckon you can speak again, since most of that water is gone. As I recall, you owe me some gratitude.” She looked at him, and with sincerity, she said “Th-thank you. For my leg, and the water.” Then, “Please, let me go. I didn't do nothing to deserve this.”

Bubba gave her a look, not cruel or uncaring, a look that was close to sympathy. “I know, I don't believe that half of your kind did. But if I were to let you go, how far do you reckon you'd make it on that leg of yours? Oh I cleaned it up, been rubbing it with antibiotic cream, even got my vet to come stitch it up a bit. But you ain't gonna be using that leg for another week, if you're lucky.” He gave her a look, up and down, “You don't strike me as the lucky type.” He sighed. “And before you ask me to try to sneak you out of the country, you should know that all the borders are locked down tighter than a faggot's jeans. No, you're stuck here, and that's all she wrote 'bout that.” The way he said it was soft, like he was trying to be kind about delivering such horrid news. He gently pushed the plate of food withing her reach. “You best get that food in you, gotta get some strength to heal up, else you wont be as useful to your new owner. You're gonna be safe here while you heal up, and after that, the boys and I are gonna make sure you know to act civil and can perform the duties that men are lookin' for in a house slave.”

Over the next week or two, Sonya couldn't quite tell because of the lack of sunlight, Bubba proved to be a rather hospitable captor. He was never cruel to her, ensured that she was fed and well hydrated, and took special care of her injuries. He had even given her a small pillow and an old blanket, but warned her that she shouldn't get used to comforts like that. And perhaps most notably, he never touched her but to clean and bandage her wounds. She was kept naked, and told “You're probably gonna be kept naked wherever you go, and if I were to give you any clothes, they'd just be taken from you. No, better to get used to being on display now.” when she asked for a shirt. But despite her nakedness, Bubba didn't stare at her either. Maybe he really did feel bad about this whole thing. Not that it stopped him from selling her, that's just business. The world changed, and Bubba was quick to adapt to what brought home bread. But for a time, she was safe, and could process what had happened. She cried herself to sleep nightly, and would often weep in her waking hours. Her dreams were mostly memories, always ending with that awful night, her father's face with dead, sightless eyes, her mother's look of grim determination and resignation, her sister's tear streaked screams. Sonya doubted she would ever forget, and knew that she would never forgive. She decided that her survival was now a matter of biding her time, staying as safe as she could, waiting for a chance to escape the country. Or maybe she'd be able to last until the global community worked together to get fix the atrocities committed in the past year. Either way, running wasn't an option for her. She had to endure.

The peaceful time with Bubba was short lived, because once she was mostly healed, Bubba brought 'the boys' over. Three of them, Red being among them, clearly identified by the recently broken nose and a fresh scar on his brow. Bubba spoke first. “Now, you know how things are, and what you need to do. Show these boys here that you ain't got no fight, and they're like to take it easy on you. 'Cept Red, he's still mad about his nose, even if it does make him look better.” The guys chuckled and Bubba gave one last look at her, laden with meaning, then left and closed the door. The remaining men started really looking at her, lust obvious in their eyes.

It was quiet for a long moment before Sonya stood up and, resigning herself to endurance, bent over the freezer, closed her eyes, and started to pray.

[tokyokookmin]

I really loved your explanation regarding vmin it was retable. kanmom51 anon, Im using a little of your ask for @tokyokookmin to explain and narrate a lil about JIMIN shes a JM biased too so I felt that it would be appropriate to ask her.

"Because it’s no secret that JM doesn’t get any praise from the company, the choreographer, and all."

"When it comes to the members it’s a different topic. They hype Jimin up. We have J-Hope constantly praising JM. Jk completely in awe with JM dance. Jin thanking him for helping him rehearse."

"So for me Bighit for some reason doesn’t do anything for JM, no credit in his work, no acknowledgement, nothing."

I felt that every single word that this anon has said is pure truth and this remark deserves much more attention. We all know what's currently going on with JM, the situation is really bad and its getting worse, toxic solo stans are bashing him and they are comparing him to other members from every perspective + even the hate that he's getting bcuz of him "annoying jk" in that memories 2020.

I need you to explain on how a wonderful person JM is. Your impact makes a huge difference on people mindset. tysm keshhh.

Hey there anon!, I deeply understand your emotions. The hate that JM is going through is really bad and I have personally reported those accounts on twt etc. I even took a few snapshots of a tiktok video comment section... I will surely share them some day or another. Well then lets get started! I can't compare J-HOPE TO JM because they are my biases and both of them captivated my eyes, I just can't resist their flawless moves and they make a great dance unit... it would be incomplete without one of them + JK lol.

Most armies would say that JK is the golden maknae or he's the best overall in the team, well y'all took JM for granted, he's capable of doing so many things as well. But before that we need to talk about his dancing skills, I have made one blog about the 3J. Here's the link if you would like to know about their achievements/viral moments https://tokyokookmin.tumblr.com/post/654670945252933632/a-guide-to-the-dance-line..... this blog was mostly just me collecting info's lmao-.

1. DANCE ☝️

Well I found this incredible video from tiktok and I thought that this video would be perfect to describe his contemporary skills. Utmost respect to the creator for creating such a masterpiece!

Jimin Van Fleet Award!

Do we really need to talk about this? We all knew what impact he had given to audience with his remarkable traditional korean fan dance.He is extremely talented, after all he trained in contemporary.

“I received many really big awards today. I sincerely appreciate it, and it was a day when I thought I would like to share it with you with better music and stage in the future. Thank you all for your support. #JIMIN# We have been unclear” #JiminWorldwideLoved 📷📷📷📷

"As emphasized by the ballet dancer, being lifted is not easy, just like in the case of Jimin in the said stage. A strong core, glutes, and chest are vital for the one being lifted." https://youtu.be/3RW91KT3bXw - another review from a japanese dancer.

He is extremely versatile and he can master any sort of genre.He excels in dancing,his moves and fluidity of his body is astonishing they way he moves every tissue in his body to perfectly to complete the cheoreo is just mind blowing, he is truly the embodiment of dancing! Believe me or not, you should pay more attention on his facial expressions... he keeps it graceful. His fingers and angle are on point.

From MAMA 2016 Lie meets Boy meets evil to MMA 2020 black swan 🦢..I wonder what's coming up next.

2. Loving member

Jimin is the member that I connect emotionally to, he's a sentimental person but he just doesn't show it you just have to pay attention on his behaviour and actions. He consoles many of the members and he provides comfort for them. The picture I attached below sets a great example.

1. BTS MAMA 2018... It was a tough year for them. They were close to disbanding, and the members were emotionally drained. My heart sank when I saw hobi breaking down in front of the crowd, you can find tons of fancams but you should take a close look at Jimin. He handled the situation very well and I love the way he gives his subtle touch of love towards the other members.

2. Taehyung grandma death announcement

I don't think that I need to explain the about the situation. Taehyung was really sad and felt guilty as he couldn't mention his grandma name. He broke down and Jimin immediately noticed him and ran towards him and just gave him little pat/huggie.

3. The Final

Even by looking at the picture you can see the comfort. You know that GCF-TOKYO song “there for you’ which implies that Jk means he will be there for jimin but "you gotta be there for me too” which means jimin gotta be there for him too. So yeah, JM just know jungkook well and he comforts Jk pretty well.It was so cute and i wished i was a part of the audience, i would have had a panic attack looking at them being so cute,fluff,intimate ON STAGE . Too bad it’s impossible now .

3.He's a badass [ athletic/ physical ]

Jimin has often talked about his experience in kendo,japanese fencing,Geomdo (검도, 劍道) “Way of the Sword” & hapkido. HAPKIDO: electid korean martial arts .It is a form of self-defense that employs joint locks, grappling, throwing techniques, kicks, punches, and other striking attacks.

https://youtu.be/oUcHghZQxiw - a video you may refer to.

.4.Academic excellence

After Namjoon Jimin has the most remarkable academic achievements in bts. He was one of the top students in junior high and was THE top student in Busan arts high school from ALL the departments. Fun fact Jimin IQ is 128! He was valedictorian too.

"When he was in junior high, he was one of the top students so Jimin's dad thought of enrolling him in a foreign language school. When he decided to go to an arts school, his teachers tried to stop him and were disappointed. He was accepted as the top of his class and attended Busan High School of Arts. He was doing really good. Then he switched to K-pop dancing and decided to be a trainee in Seoul. Teachers also tried to stop him and were disappointed. Park Jimin's life is really something.

36. Our Jimin didn't spend a lot of time preparing for the arts school. He was dancing popping when he decided to go to the arts school. He then learned modern dancing for a little over a year and was accepted at Busan High School of Arts as the top of his class even though he was a dance majorπ TT TT Every member in this group could've been successful at anything. That group is our pride, BTS.

60. Wow! If there's only one dance class, it's really incredible~ It's hard to get a top student from dance department. And it was achieved by a male student and it's Park Jimin TTTT

67. That's what I know too.. I was looking into Busan Arts School before and one class for dance is probably correct. It was mostly music and art classes that I remember. So from Busan Arts School, one out of ten classes and a male student from dance department getting accepted as the top of the class...the percentage is just incredible. I know that the dance class has about 40 students? And male students could be 25:15 or 30:10. Jimin broke through this and became the top.

Namjoon and Jimin really made a huge gamble. They could've went the easier way. Truthfully, if they went their way, they both would have succeeded. But becoming an idol and not knowing what their future will be and BTS not being successful from the beginning must have been really hard for them. But now I'm glad they're successful and they can realize they've made the right choice."

cr @artimitatesjimin

I really respect and idolize him. His personality is unique and its different.He's been through alot. Being kicked from BTS for 8+ times, the members ranking his looks as the last and being called fat and ugly, that's really disturbing. He starved and went on diets just to please the audience and to have a jawline. He works his ass of and he really deserves more. He's obviously cutie,sexy,lovely,sweet guy! He prioritize his career, family and fans before anything. He has absolute heavenly vocals (+crazyyy high notes) and he is the definition of stage presence. PARK JIMIN IS THE STANDARD. Solo toxic fans are definitely going to attack on me but this is the reality.Jimin deserves more and he's such a sweet person. He performs with his whole heart and expresses it wonderfully,he goes all out and each performance comes out from his soul. He loves to perform. I MEAN FOR THE LOOKS, JIMIN IS THE FIRST FOR JUNGKOOK~.

He once even wasn't able to attend THE GRAHAM NORTON SHOW due to his sore muscles.

He went through alot and he deserves the #1 in brand reputation, who doesn't admire his determination?

Each member is unique in their own way. I want no hate or malice on my platform ~

Bits and pieces I collected anon! love ya ~ stay safe.

[wishingstarinajar]

I am going to ramble a bit but I will hide it under a cut because it's a bit long. It will be about the previous fandom I was active in around two years ago and how it affects me to this day. It's also about popularity and putting others on a pedestal.

If this sort of ramble isn't up your alley then feel very free to skip over this post! I don't mind. If you want to read more about it, just check under the cut.

The Franchise And Its Creators

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THE FRANCHISE AND ITS CREATORS Around mid-2014, I joined the Wakfu and Dofus fandoms, a small-ish fandom as a whole but popular in certain circles.

For those who don't know, Wakfu and Dofus are (online, console, mobile, figurine, card and board) games, comics, animated series, specials and movies created by a French studio named Ankama. These two franchises are intertwined with each other as they play out in the same universe but in different timelines. I myself dabbled around in the animated part of the fandom; I was a huge fan of the two series and the Dofus movie.

There was very little catering to the international part of the fandom when it came to the studio's attention and interactions. There were no English dubs or subtitles; international fans had to rely on English fan subtitles on ripped/pirated episodes of the show and movie, same for the franga/comics. Merch was hard to get. A lot of articles related to the shows and whatnot were in French only, which is understandable because it is a French-made product. But there's no denying that the international fanbase felt a little neglected back then.

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MY FANDOM JOURNEY

Because I was very interested in the lore of both franchises, I had to do a lot of digging and translating to be able to fully indulge in it all. I went full in! I dug deep, created OCs, art and also tried to write fanfiction. I also shared news and info about the series and movie; I ran a fan blog dedicated to sharing things with the international part of the fandom. I was also often approached about lore, particularly for a few of the canon characters and one of the races that play a role in the Wakfu franchise; the Eliatropes. It was fun, it felt good to help other fans out, it was nice to make friends and be creative with others about similar things.

Eventually, the character and art theft began. We all know this is a 'normal' part of fandoms, so I won't hammer too long on it. My issue with it was the fact that my main OC, a female Eliatrope, gathered a lot of attention because female Eliatropes were a rarity in the Wakfu franchise. They existed but didn't get a moment in the limelight, except for one that even received her own game (Islands of Wakfu) but it was so obscure that a lot of fans didn't know about its existence. My OC was somehow mistaken as canon by plenty of folks and many others started to use her as a template to create their own (female) Eliatrope OC. I didn't mind, as long as they weren't straight-up copies and I tried to be supportive by answering lore questions and give feedback whenever it was asked for it (which happened a lot). Of course, copying and theft happened more often than not; over the five years I was part of the fandom, I sent out almost a hundred DMCA reports for art and character theft (like true theft; I could handle some similarities or one-time occurrences). One particular case went to the extreme but I won't beat that dead horse any further; it brought me enough misery to last me half a lifetime, that's all I'll say on it. I kept a lot of the negative experiences behind closed doors and dealt with a lot of it quietly to not bother, worry or burden anyone else with any of it. I wanted a positive and supporting environment for my followers, even if the truth wasn't as pretty.

====

ANKAMA'S STRUGGLE

Over the years, studio Ankama increased attempts to cater more to the international fanbase of its animated properties (articles in English, English dubs and subtitles, etc). However, the studio's struggle to garner the attention of international supporters (aka companies and sponsors) didn't go too smoothly, and to make matters worse, they were also struggling with finding a platform in France to broadcast the Wakfu series on after wishing to take a different and more mature direction. Ankama wanted more freedom with the Wakfu show, like less censorship, a serial rather than episodic, and it not being aimed at a young audience like its previous contractor demanded Wakfu to be. Ankama even turned to crowdfunding to get certain projects (like new Wakfu seasons) off the ground and let's just say that those crowdfunding projects are best described as tiny dumpster fires; they weren't pretty to watch. The first one was a disaster with plenty of displeased backers and the following crowdfunding attempts often didn't meet the end goal due to bad past experiences or the lack of interest.

Luckily, Netflix breathed some life into the international Wakfu fandom, which was great! But it was still received badly (mostly due to the awful English dub and sound mixing of the first two seasons and special) that the third season Netflix made possible was not getting the attention it deserved. It was also a rushed product due to financial and time constraints on Ankama's part. Netflix eventually declined a fourth season and it all fell a bit apart from there. Ankama turned to crowdfunding once more to try and make season 4 a reality. Last time I checked (which was quite a while ago), it did decently enough to make season 4 a reality. (Please don't ask me about it, I don't know anything about it.)

====

THE PEDESTAL

While all this was happening behind the scenes, I was starting to struggle with the reputation I built up in the Wakfu and Dofus fandom over the few years I was a part of it. The best way to describe it is that I had grown exhausted.

Aside from dealing with the theft and answering people's questions daily, I wanted to be treated as an average fan but I kept getting put on a pedestal. People went as far as to call me by titles (like lady Wish and miss Wish) more often than not. To be called and treated as such made me feel alienated, like as if I wasn't considered real. I often asked to just be called Wish, no titles/formalities required, and that I wasn't as 'popular' as they believed, but the majority of the people didn't seem to listen. People were either afraid or refused to interact with me because they considered me 'too popular', or simply wanted nothing but my validation, feedback and/or free art. I also had my fair share of haters and people that didn't approve of my 'status' in the fandom. Join the club xD I wasn't very happy with it either.

I really started to dislike being called 'popular' because it had such a bad impact on the people around me (and my own mental wellbeing). Friends started to become jealous of the attention I garnered and it dragged me down every time. At times, it would turn toxic. It was never my intention to make my friends feel like they meant less because they surely didn't. To learn that they believed others were only friends with them or only looked at their art/writing because they were good friends with me hurt so much. It still does. I refuse to believe that was fully true because I was (and still am!) surrounded by very creative people and they all deserved as much attention as I was getting, at times more. I wish others saw it that way too.

I was also heavily chained down thanks to the role (model) I played in the fandom. Too many people (especially young ones) looked up to me and there were a lot of expectations that I felt forced to meet. I started to lose the energy for it, but if I dared to stray a little from the path, the pitchforks and torches would come out. It was very restricting.

In the end, I felt stuck. Things started to grow toxic. There was a point where I began to dislike the franchise because of the bad feelings it brought me. I couldn't even get myself to watch the series or movie anymore. I focused less and less on the canon side of things and more on my own ideas, which was one of the only comforts I really had left in the fandom. I started to shut myself off, which upset a lot of people. I am sorry for that, I wish it didn't happen that way but I was at my wits' end.

When I realized and also accepted that I was no longer enjoying myself with canon or fanon, I knew I had to move on or stuff would end badly. It was a very tough realization and decision to accept and make; I literally dedicated five years of my life to the fandom. I spent hours a day digging for info and news to translate and share, doing 'research' for my fanfics, answering questions, and whatnot. I truly lived the fandom day in and out. It was the first fandom I ever actively participated in to this degree. What the heck was I going to do without that?

====

THE NOW

Abandoning the fandom was a scary step to take but not one I regret. I left the Wakfu and Dofus fandom behind me in late 2019. I feel freer now and so much happier. I no longer have the burden of expectations, being a lore guide or be forced to portray a certain role model weighing me down. I am no longer on that f*cking pedestal. I can finally explore interests that aren't exactly child-friendly without a big part of my following pummeling me down for it. (Don't worry, I always try my best to keep it in the appropriate places.)

Do I still like Wakfu/Dofus and all the stuff I've created with it? Yes, I do but I also want nothing more to do with it. Aside from the friends I've made there and also stuck around on my new adventures, I left the fandom behind me.

I still get approached at times about how my Wakfu OC, art and writing inspired someone and ask me if I could give them feedback for their own ideas or give them advice/information on Wakfu/lore. I am extremely humbled by it every time. It's great to see someone feeling inspired and be creative. However, I've moved on. I've left interacting with the Wakfu/Dofus fandom and fan-made stuff far behind me. I haven't touched it for almost two years and it shows on all the social media I share my art and writing on. I at times wish people could be considerate about the fact that I moved on but I also know and understand that not everyone knows my reasoning or my side of the story. I try not to be too harsh on it.

====

MY ADVICE

I don't hate anyone for how things turned out; a lot of it was my own doing by not saying no or taking a stronger stand.

It did teach me a lot of things, especially about caring for my own well-being and putting others on pedestals. Please be mindful when you treat someone like others treated me before; it's not healthy, for yourself and the person you put on that high pedestal. Take everything in moderation and consideration, that's all. Everyone's human, everyone has feelings, and everyone deserves a sense of being. Even your favorite artists and content creators. Don't treat them like an otherwordly being that you have to worship.

In turn, if a fandom or something you enjoyed is making you unhappy nowadays, you owe it to yourself to make or find a change. Be good to yourself, always!

~~

Thanks to anyone who read through this ramble. I needed to get this off my chest. I am not asking for advice, neither pity or whatever else. I just wanted to share my thoughts on past experiences because I have a feeling others might be going through something similar.

Thank you again, please take care.

[girlgirlgirlnormal]

Niragi x OC x Last Boss (Part 4)

Hey, I wrote another part! And this story still has no name. Also, I`m working on a small Kuina fic, because I love her very much. 

TW: Abuse, sexual content, harrassment

Word count: 2.8k

part 1 part 2 part 3

She had been spending every day with Samura and Niragi for a week now. They went regularly to games, but they never took Hina with them. They did not tell her, but she deduced from their behavior that they had thought bringing her to a game would help them protect her. The floor is lava game was not a game in which anyone could protect another person. They had been a little gentler with her. Niragi was still fucking her mercilessly every night, and Last Boss was enjoying watching it and have his way with her afterwards, but they were good to her. She got fresh fruit, and nobody came near her. She got cigarettes and birth control and everything she asked the men for.  

It was a warm night, Samura and Niragi were out with Aguni and some other militants to participate in a game. Hina had been bored in her room, so she went down to the bar by the pool and got herself a cocktail. While sipping on it she spotted Kuina, sitting on one of the loungers and talking to someone she hadn’t seen around before. She decided to join them. Kuina was nice and pretty.

She walked over and plopped down beside the girl with the short hair with whom Kuina was talking.

“Hey, I’m Hina.”, she introduced herself, extending her hand to shake the young man’s hand before stopping abruptly, “Do I know you?”, she asked, furrowing her brows.

The young man looked away shyly. That was all Hina needed to recognize him.

“I gave you a lapdance!”, she exclaimed, “You came to the club”, she thought about it, “once?”

“It was a birthday present from my friends”, the men answered, looking at his feet.

“Awww”, she cooed, “I remember you because you were so shy! You didn’t even look at me throughout the whole dance!”

The girl beside her laughed.

“These are Arisu and Usagi”, Kuina introduced them, “but I guess you already know Arisu?”

“He had my tits in his face”, Hina laughed, “I guess he hated it, but his friends were having a grant time.”

Kuina laughed, “But don’t get caught hanging out around her, her boyfriends don’t like it.”

Hinas hand automatically wandered to her hickey covered throat.

“Stop that crap music”, someone shouted, and the music was abruptly cut off.

“Those are the militant core at the beach. If you want to live in peace here, then don’t mess with them”, Kuina said, looking down, and explained them the beaches dynamics.

Hina couldn’t help but shove Usagi a little bit behind herself. She knew the militants. The only reason none of them even talked to her was that they were afraid of Niragi and Samura. Usagi was a pretty girl. They would like her. She didn’t think that she would like them back.

Aguni stopped infront of them, making Hina arch her back and lean a bit forward, trying to cover as much of Usagi as possible.

“Where is your friend?”, Aguni asked Arisu, making him look away shamefully, “Oh yeah? He’s dead? Too bad. Yet someone like you still lives.”

Samura and Niragi were standing behind Aguni, watching with interest.

“You know each other?”, Kuina asked, but no one bothered answering her.

Agunis gaze fixated on Usagi. Hina wanted to say something or do something to distract him, but she didn’t know what.

“Hey”, Aguni said, slightly turning to Niragi, “bring the woman.”

It was too late to do something. Hina wanted to give her the advice she herself had been taught at a very young age. If you can’t escape, try to enjoy it. It didn’t seem appropriate.

She watched Niragi, with his sniper over his shoulder walking over, just as he was about to grab Usagis arm Arisu sprang up.

“My boss says to bring you to him”, Niragi explained to Usagi, “get up.”

Hina could see Last Boss mouth twitching the same way it did when he watched her being taken by Niragi. They wouldn’t help this newcomer.

“Leave her!”, Arisu said, standing up and holding Niragis hand.

“Are you a tough guy?”, Niragi asked, clearly having too much fun with the situation, he turned to Aguni, “What should I do to him?”

Hina closed her eyes. This would not end good. She didn’t dare to speak up though. She was already sleeping with them to survive; she wouldn’t get herself killed over protecting a woman she had just met. She still wished she could protect her.

If you can’t escape, try to enjoy it, her grandmothers voice rang in her head.

She smiled, as she met Samuras gaze. She couldn’t enjoy the scene infront of her. She was just going to watch the man who always made sure she had something to eat and some water after he fucked her.

“Break both his legs so he dies in the next game.”, Aguni ordered.

“Good one”, Niragi looked back to the other militants, “take the woman and you come with me.”

Her eyes were still locked on Samuras, as he started walking again, following Aguni. The whole procession stopped, as Arisu ran to stand between one of the militants and Usagi. Hina could feel her hand grasping Usagis. Her friend was going to die, and she was going to be raped. There didn’t seem any other way this situation could end.

“If you can’t escape try to enjoy it”, she mumbled, low enough for only Usagi to hear.

The newcomer gave her a panicked look.

“Ooooh”, cooed Niragi, threateningly walking up to Arisu.

Hina was waiting for it to end, as a voice asked, “Is there are problem?”

She had never been so happy to see the hatter. This woman didn’t have through all the things she had gone through in the real world.

“Back off hatter, this is none of your business.”

“But this is my business. I´m the beaches leader. What I say is the law here and I´m saying that you keep your hands off the newcomers, Aguni.”

Nobody moved.

“Niragi.”, said Hatter.

Niragi looked away, “The only boss I have is the general”, he announced.

“Then I will ask the general. Who do you think is your boss, then, Aguni?”

Aguni stared in the other man’s eyes and for a moment Hina thought that he would kill him then and there.

“Shower once in a while”, hatter said dismissively and told the executive members to meet in the conference room.

Scoffing, Niragi and Samura followed Aguni, away from Hinas sight.

They wouldn’t be happy then they got back.

Arisu was invited to the meeting and left. Sawing that Chishiya was approaching, Hina said her goodbyes and went up to her room. Niragi hated that guy and didn’t want her to be near him. Normally she wouldn’t care, if she was chilling with Kuina and Chishiya joined, she just ignored him, but today was different. Niragi and Samura would be already mad then they got to her and she didn’t want to fuel their anger.

Back in Samuras room – she hadn’t gone back to her own room since her first night with them – Hina went to the small ghettoblaster and started to play her song. Daisy by Ashnikko. Since it had came out a couple of months before she found herself in the borderlands it had been the song to her signature dance. It was a nice song and it had been easy to form a persona around it. She had danced with a bright blue wig and tall “glass” platform heels. The act was so popular that they even printed a life sized poster of her dancing on the pole during that act and placed it on the most prominent wall of the club.

She used one of the bed posts as her pole and danced with closed eyes, pretending to be back in her club, with her only friend Red Diamond cheering her on. She stopped as soon as she heard the door open.

Samura and Niragi entered. Samura went to the ghettoblaster, turning it off, as Niragi stepped in her personal space, one hand tightly gripping his rifle, the other her throat.

“What were you doing with the newcomers?”, he asked, squeezing her throat.

She didn’t even try to answer. He was squeezing too hard for her to be able to speak anyway. She just looked up at him, trying to hold her breath. Fighting him or trying to somehow breath through her squeezed airpipe would make her look pathetic. If he wanted an answer, he had to stop choking her. She was already feeling a bit lightheaded, as Niragi let go, shoving her onto the bed.

“I had just joined them. The man, Arisu, I know him from before. He came to the club once.”, she explained.

“Once?”, Niragi said, face dangerously near hers, “Why would you remember someone who came to your club once?”

She had told them about being a stripper. No more or no less. They didn’t want to hear about it. They didn’t even make her dance for themselves. They didn’t talk about their lives before the borderlands and they were not interested in hearing Hinas story.

“Because he was so shy”, Hina explained, she caught herself smiling at the memory, it had been a busy day and he had been dragged there by his friends who were insisting on paying for a lapdance for him, “I gave him a lapdance and he didn’t even look at me. A true gentleman.”

Niragi slapped her cheek. Hard.

“A true gentleman”, he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice and slapped her again.

This time Hina could not stop herself from reaching to her burning cheek. She did not stop looking into his eyes, even though she could feel tears pooling in her eyes. They had been so much gentler with her and now everything was ruined, just because she talked to some people?

“If you can´t escape, try to enjoy it”, Samura quoted her words from earlier.

How did he hear that?

“Is that how you feel about us?”, he asked.

She saw up to him. He was still wearing his hood and his katana was strapped to his back. Niragi was still holding his rifle. Normally they took off their weapons as soon as they entered the room and started kissing her. She couldn’t believe that talking to someone had changed that.

Hand still on her cheek she shook her head, “Its just something I was taught in the old world.”

“Who taught you that?”

“My grandmother”, the tears were no longer just pooling in her eyes, they were flowing freely down her cheeks.

“Why?”

“Because things like that happen all the time”, Hinas voice had no emotion in it.  It was just a fact. It had happened to her and so many people she knew.

“Did someone hurt you?”, Samuras voice was much softer than compared to his other questions.

Just 15 minutes ago he had enjoyed watching Niragi pull away Usagi to be met with that faith and now he had the nerve to sound concerned?

“You mean someone who is not the two of you?”, she asked, voice still not betraying any emotion, “Yes. Many times. And you are hurting me too.”

Niragis hand was on her jaw before she could say anything else, he was holding her tight and watched her face for a moment before licking a long streak on her face, collecting some of the tears, “But princess”, he whispered, “You agreed to this and we’ve been awfully nice to you.”

She couldn’t help but scoff, “You can be gentle but contrary to popular believe, I do not enjoy being hit.”

Niragis eyes were closed as he licked the other side of her face. Samura was watching them.

“Has someone on the beach hurt you?”

“They tried.”, she answered, “I got away.”

“Do you want to go back to your room?”, Samura asked, hood still up.

Niragis hold was too tight and she would have bruises all over her face the next day. She shook her head.

“I don’t want to be alone”, she whispered.

Samura finally took off his hood and unstrapped his katana, gently putting it on the sideboard. He sat down next to her on the bed and kissed her shoulder.

“You look exhausted”, he said, shooting Niragi a look, “Maybe we shouldn’t play tonight.”

Niragi frowned but let go of her jaw.

“I would have enjoyed that”, he murmured.

“Remember what we said, Niragi”, Last Boss said, “She is ours. We will treat her good and she will stay ours. She doesn’t look like she can handle it today. We don’t want to break our doll.”

Hina felt so thankful. They had been fucking her every night since their first night. She couldn’t understand how they were always so horny. Sure, she enjoyed it. Sometimes at least. Then she was not being hit, choked or pounded so mercilessly that she could feel her insides tearing, but that was always Niragi and he always stopped then she started screaming in pain.

How messed up did she have to be to see that as a good sign?

“Lets just go to bed”, Samura declared, placing a small kiss on the top of her head, “and tomorrow we will continue talking about this.”

They let her change into one of Samuras shirts as they undressed. They slept only with underwear, most of the time even naked. After a good session none of them wanted to move much.

She laid down in the middle of the king-sized bed and let Samura hug her to his his chest. The mattress caved behind her, as Niragi joined them, cuddling up to her back.

“Maybe we should establish some safe words tomorrow”, Niragi mumbled into her shoulder, “Would you feel safer that way?”

Hina nodded, “I don’t mind you being rough in bed. I just don’t want you to slap and beat me outside of it”, she whispered letting herself being cradled between them, “My boyfriend used to do that.”, she thought for a moment, choosing Samuras words to describe it, “He hurt me. A lot. Every day. I don’t want to fear you like I feared him. I don’t want to be paraded around like a prized dog.”

“Good”, Samura answered, nuzzling his face in her hair, and taking a deep breath, “You won’t have to.”

Normally, Hina was the last one to fall asleep. She would stay awake and lick her wounds and sleep much later than the men. This day, she fell asleep first. She wouldn’t say that she felt safe with them. She just didn’t feel like she was in immediate danger between them.

As she woke up the next morning, she was alone in bed. Neither the men she had gone to bed with nor their weapons there anywhere in sight. Sighing she sat up. She should get dressed and go down to the pool to get some breakfast. Pulling Samuras shirt off she got dressed in her red bikini and put on her flip-flops. She quickly brushed her hair and made her way down. As she stopped by the bar to get herself a fruit bowl, she spotted Last Boss and Niragi sitting in the VIP section with some other militants. She took the small bowl from the bartender, whose job included serving food at mealtimes, and made her way to them.

“Good morning”, she greeted them, sitting down between them.

They wished her a good morning and went back to eating their own breakfast. They didn’t touch her. That was weird. Normally they were not able to keep their hands off her. They would always touch her legs, her face or her back. Now it was nothing. She started eating but continued watching the man.

“What’s wrong?”, Niragi asked frowning.

She stared at him. Then she stared at Samura, who was also staring at her.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with you two?”, Hina was wondering if she shouldn’t have told them what she did the night before. Did that make them not want her anymore? Would they drop her or leave her to die as soon as the next game came?

“You wanted us to behave like gentleman”, Samura explained, “Not to behave like your boyfriend. We are doing our best.”

She looked at him. He looked like he was being genuine. They had listened to her and they were ready to change their behavior.

“We`ll talk about it later, in the room. We still have to find a safe word.”, Niragi reminded her, “Eat.”

[selfships-in-spanish]

The Queen of Demons 2/?

Pairing: Erwin Smith x OC, Levi Ackerman x OC

Rating: Gen (the rating will go up as the story advances! But it will totally be explicit ;D)

Warnings: None for now, but sexist and misogynist upbringing (Eva's father is a huge asshole).

Word Count: 3449

ALSO POSTED ON AO3

A/N: Second chapter, woooo!! We are slowly getting more into plot details B) There's so much stuff I have already written out that I cannot wait to show you all

CHAPTER 2: THE DEMONS OF ELDIA

Eva tried to control her breathing the best she could while maintaining her gaze on the Chief, frozen.

That imposing figure standing proudly on top of the stairs was her husband to be.

Her father’s voice echoed loudly in her mind, chastising her for her lack of manners. How dare she stare at her betrothed? She was being rude, uncouth, and back in Gottesreich this wouldn’t have gone unpunished.

Eva didn’t see the way those calculating eyes narrowed when she teared her eyes from him and resumed the stance she was taught to maintain: head down in a display of submission, eyes glued to the floor and mouth shut. She also didn’t see a pair of steel gray eyes bore into her, watching every move she made.

The Chief kept talking, despite his inquisitive gaze towards the Princess, while Moblit translated, introducing everyone on his side. It prompted Eva to look up again and meet everyone’s eyes out of courtesy, knowing it would be disrespectful and rude if she didn’t, but never stayed too long as she accidentally did with the Chief.

The Princess was surprised at the variety of shapes and sizes of Eldia’s best warriors, going from tall like that giant with the big nose, moustache and crossed arms –Mike, was it?–, to short and slim, like the man with black hair and impassive grey eyes with a permanent scowl etched on his face –Levi, the Chief’s right hand man, she should really remember that–, and more. But Eva couldn’t hide her shock when she saw women amongst them. This would be absolutely prohibited back in Gottesreich, not to mention the punishment for even thinking of stepping on a man’s role. But these women looked proud, fierce, and Eva couldn’t help but envy such confidence being openly displayed a little bit.

Eva felt her father’s disapproving eyes on the back of her mind, and reprimanded herself internally for even wondering about how it must feel to be in their shoes. Eva had her own role, her own duty to perform, as her Father incessantly reminded her; thinking about such things would lead her nowhere. She was here for one single and very clear purpose.

“Please, come inside, I’m sure we all want to be out of the cold.” Moblit’s calm voice shook her out of her reveries. The Chief gestured behind him, towards the entrance of the Great Hall, with a hand on his belt and his arm open to his side, a polite smile on his lips.

Prince Hans reciprocated the smile, nodding and looking at his siblings as if on cue to follow him inside. Flora and the soldiers that accompanied them were ushered away from the monarchs, only letting the personal bodyguards go in with them, as protocol demanded, and it caused a knot on Eva’s stomach to not know where Flora was being taken. She only hoped they would all be alright. Sensing her distress, Moblit turned to address the royal siblings and ease her mind.

“The horses and luggage will be properly taken care of, as well as your men and maidens, your Highnesses. Any request you shall have please make it known, and we will try our best to comply.” Eva wanted to scoff at that, having several requests herself. She wanted to go home, please.

“Thank you kindly, Moblit.” Prince Hans replied. Eva prayed to God the Eldians would keep their word.

Upon entering the Great Hall warmth instantly greeted them, as well as a breathtaking view. Eva didn’t want to admit it, but the interior of the Great Hall was beautiful. It was composed of wonderfully sculpted wooden pillars with the same intricate markings and runes from outside etched in them, truly the masterpiece of very skilled artisans. She could even make out some animals on the relief carvings, merging with the patterns. The whole room was illuminated with the pale sunlight from the windows, as well as the warm glow of the fires roaring to both light and heat the room better. At the far end of the hall there were more steps, leading to a wooden platform where a big, imposing chair with thick pelts draped over it rested, undoubtedly like a throne. There was a smaller one next to it, with the beautiful markings and soft-looking pelts too, and Eva felt a chill at the realisation that it was for her.

They were led to a table surrounded with chairs, goblets already prepared to be poured wine to the guests. The Chief sat down, inviting his guests to do the same as him and his second in command. The Princes imitated their host, sitting on the opposite chairs and getting comfortable in them, and Eva waited for them to be already seated to do the same, silently, not drawing attention to her and carefully maneuvering her cloak and dress skirts to be in the pose she was taught to sit in: back straight, knees together and hands resting on them, crossed but never closing them in fists, legs–

“Wine, your Highness?” Moblit’s soft voice startled her, looking at the Eldian servant holding the wine decanter right above her goblet, waiting to pour it. Eva quickly looked at her brothers, already having been served and goblets in hand and taking a sip. Even if back at Gottesreich’s court it would be improper for a lady to drink wine out of a social gathering, it would be impolite and disrespectful to refuse.

Be good. Cause a good first impression. Be good. Don’t bring dishonor to your Kingdom. Be good–

“Yes, please.” Eva tried to not let her voice raise too much, knowing she shouldn’t be speaking while her brothers or other men were.

Eva didn’t notice the way the Chief’s eyes quickly shifted to her upon hearing the small exchange, too engrossed on maintaining proper Gottesreichan manners.

The Princess ventured a sip from her goblet and was met with a rich, powerful flavour with a hint of spices in it exploding on her taste buds. Her eyes widened and eyebrows rose, trying not to cough at the strong wine; that would be beyond rude and disrespectful. She gulped down the Eldian wine, hoping no one noticed it.

One of the Chief’s warriors, the giant one (Mike! She had to start remembering names), huffed, amused at her reaction. Her wish was not met as she also saw the Chief chuckle into his own goblet while listening to Moblit’s translations.

Perfect. Just perfect. Way to make good impressions.

The conversation seemed to momentarily change its topic as the Chief asked something and everyone became silent. Moblit’s voice made her look up from her goblet.

“Not used to strong wines, your Highness?

Eva’s gaze briefly traveled from Moblit to the Chief, who was looking at her with the corner of his mouth lifted, as well as one of his bushy eyebrows. The Princess hurriedly looked at her brothers, who were awaiting as well. Hans encouraged her with a slight nod. They were waiting for her response.

Oh.

“I am deeply sorry, my Lord, I meant no disrespect.” Her grip on the goblet tightened, trying her hardest to not let her voice waver. “I am indeed not used to strong flavoured wines, or wines themselves.” She tried to finish with a polite smile.

The Chief’s eyes had a curious glint in them, nodding at Moblit’s words. He replied something, and Eva dreadfully awaited Moblit’s translation. She really hoped she didn’t offend him or any of the Eldians present.

“Then, what are you used to, your Highness?”

This much attention on her was making her nervous. They shouldn’t be focusing the conversation on her, there were more important matters to discuss than her tastes!

“Coffee. Or tea, also, my Lord. But do not fret over it, I am sure I will get used to wine in no time.”

Would she? Eva doubted it, but if she had to, she would. Although she would deeply miss her morning cup of coffee…

The Chief hummed, instantly turning to one of his men to tell them something, and Eva watched as the warrior disappeared to carry on the Chief’s errand. She looked back at the Chief, seeing him share a brief smile at her before returning to the previous topic.

Eva tried to pay attention, but the thought of having hurt the Eldian’s feelings gnawed at her.

The warrior returned some time after with a steaming cup in his hands. Eva noticed he was that short warrior that stood next to the Chief when both parties presented themselves, with the cold and impassive grey eyes. He offered the cup to Eva, patiently waiting for her to take it. The Princess obliged, thanking him even if she knew he probably didn’t understand a word she said.

“My apologies for not having coffee, your Highness. I hope tea can suffice.” Moblit once again spoke to her, the Chief turning to face her in his chair, awaiting her response.

“Please don’t apologise, my Lord. This is more than enough.” Eva briefly looked down at the cup, then up at the Chief with another polite smile. “I am thankful for your kindness.”

Smile, smile, smile. Always smile.

Trying to divert everyone’s attention away from her and let the conversation go back to where it was, Eva ventured a taste. Her nose picked up the delicious aroma of the tea, and her mouth was filled by the sweet flavour, finishing with a touch of spiciness at the end that made her want more. Eva raised her brows, surprised but satisfied. She took another sip, erasing any traces left of the wine from before. It wasn’t coffee, but this tea was an agreeable alternative.

“I take it you liked it, your Highness.” The Chief wasn’t done with the conversation, and Eva didn’t understand why the Chief was so adamant to make her talk, or even try to engage her into a conversation besides the ones between the princes and himself. She wasn’t there for that.

“I do, my Lord. This is a blend I haven’t had the chance to try before, thank you for letting me have a taste of it.”

The Chief let out a soft chuckle and began talking again. Eva awaited Moblit’s translations, delicately holding her cup.

“Ah, I’m afraid I am not the tea expert here. Levi is, so please feel free to ask him more about his blends.” The Chief gestured towards the short warrior, who nodded in acknowledgement.

“I will. Thank you, my Lord.” Another polite smile on her lips.

That seemed to end the conversation for now. Eva kept drinking the tea, listening to what was being said. She shouldn’t zone out, not when this concerns her too.

The Gottesreichan Princes excused the King for not coming himself to Eldia because of urgent matters that required his presence, but Eva knew the truth behind that, having heard her father with the other advisors in the throne room already discussing plans beyond her daughter’s marriage, and being greeted by her brothers the same day they departed with sad smiles on their faces.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth, knowing the King, her own father, couldn’t stay away one minute from his plans on how to maintain the Kingdom’s borders, or how to expand them, too.

He didn’t even think about walking her to her awaiting carriage, and she was graced only by a quick kiss on her forehead when Eva went to look for him and found the King still in his chambers. But her father made sure she didn’t forget how his daughter would represent their beloved Kingdom in foreign territories, how she had to bring both civilization and manners to the barbarians. All this, while intensely staring at the map hanging on his wall.

Not a single look at her.

The King was not at the courtyard to send them off. Did not wave goodbye, did not do what any father would do when they knew their daughter would never come home again to start a new life somewhere far away. He only expected her to do a good job as she was taught to do.

This is all Eva knew about fatherhood from the day she was born, an absent paternal figure that only looked at her when she did good. And she always strived to do good. She had to. Father would spare a glance if she did.

Hans often tried to unconsciously supply and fill that void her father left when he wasn’t chained down by his own princely duties, recalling when she was a little girl how he would take her to the Capital’s festivities and let her stuff her mouth full of sweets. Or when he would indulge in her imagination and games, running around the castle slaying dragons, which often made Friederich play the part of the dragon going down with theatrics that put court jesters to shame, or playing hide and seek, or when the royal tailor made a new dress for her how he would compliment and praise the craftsmanship, and of course how she looked pretty in it.

The days where both her brothers took her on strolls around the Castle woods were the happiest for her, getting to hop from horse to horse and run around the meadow without being reprimanded for it. Rolling in the grass, chasing birds and squirrels, picking up flowers to make flower crowns that would lately put them on both her brother’s heads...

Sadly it ended when Father decided it was time for Eva to start her studies and long preparation to be his perfect little princess. Her brothers had less and less time to spend with her, and Hans was almost absent all the time with the pressure of being the Crown Prince.

Still, Hans and Friederich found a little loophole in Father’s strict schedule, using their diplomatic travels as a perfect excuse to make their little sister tag along, always with the excuse to further prepare her for her upcoming future.

But now there was no little loophole anymore.

The Chief and the Gottesreichan princes were discussing dates and procedures, and agreed on carrying on the Eldian traditions and rituals, as well as have the ceremony here in Eldia. Eva had uselessly hoped it would maybe be carried in Gottesreich, respecting the bride’s lineage, or maybe a double one, but her wishes would not be granted. She drowned her sigh with a sip of her tea.

They finally decided that a spring wedding would be the best, knowing the roads were hard to travel with the immense amounts of snow in them, and they wouldn’t want the guests to be inconvenienced by it. Besides, for Eldia spring was important, and it would be just perfect to celebrate a wedding. The Chief tried to include the Princess on this decision, asking her if she liked spring, which she replied that she did, not really enjoying the cold.

That settled it then. It meant two months of preparations, approximately. Maybe a few weeks less, depending on the weather conditions.

Two months.

Dread twisted her stomach.

“I hope you will find your life here pleasant, your Highness. I understand the shock and differences between our people, but we will accommodate you the best of our capabilities.”

The Chief was paying attention to her again. Why? Why was he trying to fake kindness? Eva knew he only pretended because her brothers were present, why else would he? Eva was just an asset, a bargaining chip, so why go to such lengths for someone from another Kingdom such as her? A twisted sense of humour? That would fit, weren’t they demons?

Her father made her memorise the words and movements she was about to spit and act out, telling Eva how that is what every man wanted to hear from their future bride. Eva found the comment crass, even coming from Father, but still complied as she was trained to do.

Eva set the cup on the wooden table, moving gracefully as she let her right hand touch her heart, lowering her head in the submissive display she was taught to never slip out of.

“Thank you for your consideration towards my well-being, my Lord.” Head still lowered, eyes closed— “I hope I can perform my marital duties beyond your expectations, my Lord, and that I am to your liking. I will do my best to ensure your needs are met and fulfilled.”

Eva then resumed her previous position as she heard Moblit translate her words. Eva ventured a look towards her brothers, finding twin saddened expressions on their faces. She was shocked. Did she not do good? Alarmed, the Princess looked over the Chief, pushing aside the protocols and needing to know she did not displease the Chief, that Father wasn’t wrong.

The Chief looked troubled himself, as if some suspicions and thoughts he had from before had been confirmed right that instant. No no no– this was disastrous! Father told her it was imperative she did it, that it was what those brutes wanted from their wives, so why was the Chief not overjoyed to see such an obedient, docile behaviour from her?

The Eldian warrior looked like he wanted to say something that was on his mind, but ultimately decided to close his mouth. The Chief seemed to thoroughly think about what his next actions and words should be, so instead of replying to the Princess as she thought he would do, with a lecherous and satisfied smirk, he chose to tightly smile and bow his head as if in acknowledgement of her words.

It didn’t settle well in her stomach, and Eva had never been more confused than she was right now.

What was this man playing at?

Moblit’s strong but soft voice cut through her musings.

“You surely must be tired from the journey, your Highnesses. Please, allow us to escort you to your rooms so you can rest until tonight’s banquet. Baths will be ready, too.”

Yes please! Eva wanted nothing more than to run to the safety of four walls and a tightly closed door, and Flora to embrace her like she always did when Eva got overwhelmed.

“We indeed are, thank you. Those carriages don’t do anyone’s back a favour.” Hans laughed, accompanied by Friederich’s chuckle and the Chief’s shaking of shoulders. Eva was eagerly awaiting for Hans to get up so she could follow and get out of there, too. A warm bath sounded so nice. “Eva, do you mind going before us?”

Wait.

What?

From Hans apologetic face, and Friederich’s gaze avoiding her, this was something they had planned beforehand.

“Brother,” Eva tried not to raise her voice or make her desperation known. She didn’t want to go alone, to be alone with those people supposedly taking her to her rooms. What if they didn’t? “please.”

“Eva,” Hans turned to face her, getting a hold of her tightly clasped hands. “we are deeply sorry– no, don’t give me that look, we are.”

Like Hell they were!

“Hey, Birdie” Friederich always used that nickname with her since they were little kids, so him using it right now conflicted Eva’s feelings. Her brother always used it when he wanted to make her feel safe, but right now it wasn’t really working. “Trust us. We will be right behind you, okay?”

“But–“

“We only need to discuss some matters, that’s all.”

“Hans–”

“Yes, very boring matters that will make you fall asleep. You go rest, Birdie.”

When her brothers synched with each other it was a losing battle for Eva. Knowing this, she promptly closed her mouth into a thin line, resigned. Swallowing down a sigh, Eva forced a smile on her lips as she spoke to the Eldians, focusing on the Chief.

“Excuse me for my behaviour, my Lord. I will gladly take your offer and let you men discuss what you need to talk about.”

The Chief nodded, asking Levi once again to comply with his requests and accompany the Princess to her room, taking almost every guard with him. Eva gracefully raised herself from her seat, making a short reverence to the people present in the room.

“Thank you for the tea, my Lord, it was most delicious.”

Eva followed Levi to exit the Great Hall, leaving the three men inside and trying hard not to dwell in it. She had no right to pry into men’s matters, and she best accepted it quickly. They watched her disappear through the door with Mike’s towering form closing the little entourage.

It hurt both brothers, but it had to be done.

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 11: The Games

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,322

Chapter Summary: The long-anticipated Summer Games have arrived.

A/N:  This is probably my favorite chapter in this story and I'm really excited to post it. I got some bad news yesterday and have kind of been in a weird headspace ever since, so this has really been giving me something positive to look forward to. Seeing your likes and comments really make my day every week :) 

I hope you enjoy it, and as always, thank you so much for reading!

TW: Violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

The first day of the Games arrived in all its vicious glory. Feasts, festivities, toasts, the clinking of mugs and the cheering of names—it seemed the whole of Asgard was gathered about the arena, the usual level of pandemonium descending upon the crowd as each warrior was introduced.

Teki sat stiff as a board in her seat, hands properly clasped in her lap as she stared straight ahead, unblinking. The swelling by her temple hadn’t completely gone down, but her mother had been able to manipulate a loose hairstyle that mostly hid it from view. While that worked seemingly well, Teki was afraid to move the wrong way, lest her hair shift and reveal her injuries. Even clapping seemed dangerous.

The princes were soon called forward as well, raucous applause erupting across the masses as Thor, the three-time defending champion, leapt with a bow and a winning smile. Loki’s name was somewhat lost in the ensuing chaos.

Teki was careful to keep her face neutral. She didn’t know where Osvald was seated, but wherever he was chances were high that he had a good view of her atop the royal platform next to Frigga. She knew he’d be watching her for any kind of improper reaction. She was determined not to give him one.

Besides her, the Queen clapped halfheartedly for her sons. Teki was rather surprised at her lack of enthusiasm. Shouldn’t a mother be more unhampered in her support? But Frigga’s brow was creased with worry. Teki gazed at the boys choosing their weapons alongside the other fighters—swords, knives, axes. She wondered if she’d be able to clap if Brant was in the arena.

The first day was dedicated to contests and non-confrontational competitions—archery, footraces, axe-tossing. Supposedly, this was the less violent segment of the Games, although the words “less violent” and “the Games” didn’t really match up. Inevitably, a judge made a bad call, the affronted contestant sprang up in insulted frustration, and then suddenly everyone in the arena was shouting at the top of their lungs and throwing each other to the ground. These brawls were a staple of the Games, and more often than not Thor was one of the first to start them, so King Odin usually let them go on for a bit before silencing everyone with a clang of his spear.

Teki tried to watch with the diligence expected of future royalty, but the summer heat worsened her headache and stifled her attentiveness, sending little beads of sweat dripping down her face and irritating her bruised skin. At least the royal platform was shielded from the sun—she felt bad for the people huddled around the ring with no cover whatsoever. Still, it was far too hot to properly follow anything.

The only time the competition truly held her attention was during the knife throwing, although she was ashamed to admit why. Loki dominated the event like it was his life’s calling. His movements were almost feline, cutting through the air as if he were a blade himself, carrying a kind of fluidity that even the veteran participants lacked. Teki didn’t think he missed a single throw. When the judges crowned him winner, she couldn’t resist her tiny grin.

It made her think of the gold-hilted dagger wedged beneath her mattress along with her father’s journal. She found herself fantasizing about wearing it to the Games, sitting here in her seat with Loki’s blade at her waist. Lots of women did something like that—wearing their warrior’s weapon of choice to show solidarity with him during the tournament. She imagined how Loki would react, if he looked up at the podium and saw her wearing his dagger. She wondered if his face would light up the way it did when she came to watch him practice …

The trumpets blared, announcing the next event. Teki shook herself from the daydream. What was she thinking? She was betrothed to Prince Thor, destined to be his Queen. She couldn’t allow her thoughts to wander elsewhere. The next group trooped into the arena. Teki only sunk lower in her seat.

One-on-one duels began the following day. This was what everyone had been waiting for. The crowd was absolutely feral as the order was announced. Most of the people were foreign to Teki, but her ears perked up at a few familiar names: Loki would be fighting towards the beginning, against another novice combatant. Thor was going against a hulking man from Vanaheim. Fandral was paired against another one of Thor’s friends: the slender, controlled warrior who preferred a spiked mace to a sword and whom Teki had rarely seen lose.

Good, she thought as the two shook hands, I hope he kicks your butt.

Again, she found herself struggling to stay focused throughout the duels between people she didn’t recognize. The first one ended when one of the men yielded. The second went through until the loser was knocked to the dirt, unconscious and bleeding. The third went on so long that by the time a winner was called the crowd had almost completely lost interest.

But then it was Loki’s turn. Teki perked up when he arrived in the field with a slight bow, adjusting his golden breastplate as he did. He met her gaze when he turned to the platform, his impassible expression relaxing a moment when he saw her smiling.

His opponent bowed as well. He was a crazed looking thing, wisps of his wildfire hair curling past his neck like a lion’s mane. His name was Geirr, and while the master of ceremonies said he was the same age as Loki, Teki was certain he looked a bit older.

The two boys took their stances in the arena with their staffs. Teki swallowed. She wished Loki could use his daggers. The games were set up in a series of rounds, with the winners of each duel going on to fight each other in the next. They changed the weapons each time: round one was quarterstaff, round two was sword, round three was axe, and so on until the final round, where the last two warriors used their weapon of choice. While Teki knew well that Loki was more than capable with the weighted staffs, nothing could compare to his deadliness with his daggers.

At the sound of the trumpet, Geirr was quick to jump to the offensive.  He leapt forward with several well-aimed stabbing motions that Loki deftly avoided. He blocked another swing and attempted a hit of his own, grazing Geirr’s torso before the red-haired boy pushed him back.

It was a very even match. The two chased each other into every corner of the arena, each sharp clap of their staffs meeting echoing across the thrumming crowd like thunder. Teki found herself leaning forward in her seat. At moments, Loki seemed just on the edge of victory. He got the first hit, smacking his opponent against his ribcage and causing him to double over in pain. The crowd cheered, but then Geirr was on his feet again and rushing at the prince, and once more Loki was on the defensive.

Teki’s chest hurt from holding her breath. Come on. Loki was right on top of him, landing blows on his shoulder, his hip. Geirr was struggling to stay on his feet. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. So close. Come on—

Geirr feinted to the right. It was a sudden jerk that caught Teki off guard, and she inhaled so sharply it stung.

It seemed to catch Loki off guard too. When he moved to block, Geirr whipped the other end of the staff around from the left. It collided with the prince’s face with a sickening crack. Her hands flew to her mouth, muffling her gasp. Loki fell backwards. For a moment, the crowd was silent.

Loki didn’t move.

The master of ceremonies rushed into the arena, raising Geirr’s hand. “The winner! Geirr Alfrson!” The people erupted into cheers.

Teki barely heard them. Loki was still on the ground, flocked by individuals in the blue robes of the healing ward. Was that blood on his face? She stared at them with a knitted brow. Was he unconcious? How hard of a blow must it have been to knock him unconscious? The healers were caring him out of the fighting area on a pallet of some sort. He still hadn’t moved.

Frigga was already on her feet, rushing down the stairs to the medical tents set up just outside the crowd. For once, she didn’t think of Osvald. Teki hurried to follow her.

The Queen stopped at the entrance to the white tent, speaking in hushed tones with one of the healing women. Teki slipped past them, seemingly without notice.

Inside, Loki was awake, and Teki exhaled in relief. He was sitting up on a cot as another woman in blue held a blood-soaked cloth to his nose.

“How are you feeling now?” she was asking.

He shrugged. “Fine.”

“Any lightheadedness?”

“Not really.”

“Very well.” The woman stood, patting him gently on the knee. “It was a simple heal. You should be able to rejoin the festival without issue when you feel ready.” With that, she exited the tent, nodding slightly as she passed Teki on the way out.

Loki heaved a sigh, cradling his head in his hands. Teki approached him slowly, kneeling at his side.

“Hey,” she asked quietly. “Are you all right?”

He glanced up quickly. Once he saw that it was only her, he relaxed a bit.

“I’m fine.” He huffed bitterly. “I could’ve taken him. Easily. One quick illusion, and he never would’ve seen it coming.” She jumped when he smacked the mattress. “I thought maybe—for once in my life—”

 He was crying, Teki realized with a start. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, dangerously close to spilling over. She didn’t know what to say.

“You did wonderfully,” she murmured. “There’s no reason to be ashamed. He just got a lucky hit—”

“There shouldn’t have been a lucky hit!” There was something dark in his face, something Teki had never seen there before. It scared her. He scowled. “Thor wouldn’t have let him get a lucky hit.”

“But—you can do things Thor can only dream of,” Teki pointed out. Where was this coming from? “Like the liquid light, with Brant—”

Loki laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “That doesn’t matter! It’s just a trick, nothing but a trick. Tricks don’t win the day. Father wants real warriors, not childish pranks.”

“You are a real warrior!” she insisted. “You won the knife toss yesterday, and you still did really well today—”

“You don’t understand!” he cried. “It’s not enough! It’s never enough.”

He fell forward, covering his eyes with his hand. His body shook with barely restrained sobs. Teki’s heart was breaking. She reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing against his shoulder. When he didn’t flinch away, she moved closer. Loosely, giving him plenty of room to pull away if he wanted to, she eased the prince into an embrace.

At first, he stiffened, and Teki almost made to let him go, but then his arms encircled her torso, gripping her as if she were his only anchor to land. She held him tighter in return.

And with that, the dam broke. Loki sobbed into her shoulder openly, unabashedly, no longer attempting to keep up appearances. Teki didn’t say anything. She had never been very good at comforting people, never really knew how. All she could do was rub his back and let him cry.

She wasn’t sure how long it went on for. Eventually, Loki stopped, pulling away to wipe at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He kept his head down, seemingly ashamed to meet her gaze.

“Forgive me,” he murmured hoarsely.

She frowned. “For what?”

“It’s—” His voice caught in the back of his throat “Pathetic. Selfish, to complain. Forgive me.”

“No it’s not.” Teki reached out to push his chin up so he’d look at her. Still, he avoided her eyes. “How is it selfish?” Norns know how many times he’s put up with my tears.

“I just—” He shook his head. “Here I am, whining to you about my gripes with my father, when you—when you’re suffering through conditions I can’t even imagine.” His fingers brushed against her temple, just barely running across the swelling. Now it was her turn to face the floor in shame. He had noticed. Of course he had.

“It’s so selfish…” he repeated, his voice so soft it seemed to be coming from somewhere else.

“No,” she whispered. She turned back to him, hoping the determined sincerity came across in her expression. “You always can complain. Anytime. I’ll always listen. You’re not selfish.”

He stared at her, his eyes tired and swollen. His hand traced her profile, down from her temple to cup her cheek. She shivered.

“But I am,” he said finally, almost too quiet to hear. “Because I don’t want you to marry my brother. And the reason is entirely selfish.”

Teki’s heart stuttered to a halt. What? Her mouth fell open, but no words came out. What should she say to that? What could she say to that?

Just then, the tent flap pushed open. Loki stiffened, pulling away from her immediately. Twisting around, Teki found herself melting under the iron gaze of Odin AllFather. Frigga stood not far behind. She felt the color drain from her face.

For a moment, they just stared at her. Teki quickly scrambled to her feet, burning (she had been kneeling, how must that have looked?).

“Your Majesties,” she faltered, somehow managing to sink into a clumsy curtsey. “If—if you’ll excuse me.” And with that, without waiting for a response, she fled from the tent.