#i would defend him to the moon and back truly don’t bother arguing with me about this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hxwks-gf · 4 years ago

Text

» 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊

𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢. 𝚠𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚠𝚌: 𝟸.𝟼

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 & 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

That familiar stench of thick, viscous blood stretched far across the open field in which you stood, breathing heavily with your fingers gripped tightly around the hilts of your swords. They, along with half of your face, were stained red with it.

You were so tired. Every muscle in your body ached with exhaustion. But no matter how many Titans you viciously cut down, more and more seemed to take their place. Fighting them in an open field put you and the rest of the squad at an enormous disadvantage, and now you were paying the price.

You clicked the bottom triggers and listened to the empty space within the gas canister. You had maybe one or two good forward pushes before you were completely out.

“Fuck,” you muttered, sheathing the swords and wiping the blood out of your eyes. Looking around, you could see no one else nearby. You were completely alone after you had been separated on your horse by a handful of Abnormals. And as soon as you had vaulted from your horse’s back to attack, it got in the way of the onslaught of Titans and was ultimately crushed beneath one of their enormous feet.

Their blood had evaporated, leaving behind only your own from a wound at your hairline. Your eyes were getting heavier and heavier by the second, and the soft patch of grass underneath a lone tree nearby was suddenly calling your name. Dying in comfort didn’t seem like a bad way to go….at least it wasn’t getting eaten alive.

But the sun was already setting, slashing the sky with vibrant reds, oranges, and purples. You couldn’t remember what phase the moon was in tonight; all you could do was pray it didn’t give too much light for the Titans to walk around after the sun disappeared.

No food, no gas, no back-up. In the middle of Titan country. No matter how you looked at it, you were fucked. The fields stretched on and on as far as the eye could see—the rest of the squad could be miles and miles away by now, having absolutely no idea where you were.

You decided to at least take a rest under the tree while you figured out how much longer you had left, and what you would do with that limited time. You leaned back against the trunk and stretched your legs out in front of you, watching the sun sink lower and lower behind the mountains that loomed in the distance.

It was strangely beautiful, you thought to yourself as you rested your heavy head against the tree and stared at the sunset through half-lidded eyes. The winds whispered through the grass and brought with it the scent of the forest, extinguishing the putrid odor of Titan blood that had lingered behind. If these were your last moments on earth, you weren’t complaining too much. It was as close to peace you would ever get.

Movement out of the corner of your eye made you sit up abruptly, nostrils flaring with alert.

“Shit,” you muttered, seeing the gangly limbs of a ten-meter ambling across the field. You could feel each of its footsteps reverberating through the earth.

It was the only one you could see, and you could take it down easily enough. But that would use up the last of your precious gas and leave you truly helpless if a more pressing matter arose in the future.

You tapped your finger against the trigger of your sword in thought, weighing your options. The Titan hadn’t seen you yet, but if you moved, it most definitely would. If you sat still for long enough it just might pass you without noticing.

Decisions, decisions.

What would Levi do?

“Tch,” you scoffed, glaring toward the Titan. You knew Levi never would’ve gotten himself stuck in this situation to begin with. And you could already hear the earful he would give you if by some stroke of luck they found you alive. You’d be stuck scrubbing the floors for months.

You raised your eyes to the sun that had sunk behind the mountains, casting the valley below into hues of dark blue and black. The moon was nowhere in sight. Could you have been fortunate enough to have a moonless night?

The Titan in the distance still meandered about languidly as the last few remaining rays of the sun stretched over the mountains. Just a few minutes more and you would test Hange’s theory about the Titans’ inability to move without a light source.

It was getting harder and harder to see with each passing second, and soon enough your vision of the wandering Titan became just a dark speck on the horizon. The air was still and quiet, save for the whispering breeze that ruffled your hair and your green cloak. As you slowly got to your feet, your eyes scanned your surroundings to the best of your human ability and saw that you were completely alone again.

Trost was east of you. You wondered how far you would get before the sun rose again or you collapsed from exhaustion. The wound along your hairline had stopped bleeding, but it was giving you an excruciating headache.

“Just get as far as you can,” you commanded yourself, leaving behind the comfort of your tree as you started walking east. Your footsteps were silenced by the soft grass. “Push as hard as you can, and we’ll figure out the rest from there.”

You could hear Levi’s voice in your mind. “Don’t give up on me, cadet,” he’d say. “Come back to me.”

“It’d be easier if you came to me,” you argued with his voice aloud as you picked your way across the open field. “You’re the one with the horse.”

No one answered except the crickets chirping in the grass. The stars twinkled overhead, as if trying to keep you company while you walked on foot in the most dangerous part of the country—alone, with scarcely enough to defend yourself, and no food to give you energy.

If you were fucked, at least your last thoughts would be about Levi.

“There’s still no sign of her,” Jean called down from atop the abandoned farmhouse. “I can’t see anything without the moon.”

Levi tried his best to keep himself under control. Goddammit, why did she have to be the one to get separated from the group? He looked up at Jean and nodded stiffly. “Keep looking.”

“Yes, sir.”

He paced the length of the farmhouse with his hands folded tightly behind his back. He had half a mind to go out and look for her himself, but Jean was right. Without the light of the moon, he wouldn’t be able to see much of anything. And he couldn’t risk overexerting his poor horse.

Levi felt a hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed, wishing he could tell the rest of his squad not to bother him until they had any useful information regarding [Y/N]’s whereabouts.

“She’s resourceful,” Hange said softly, and Levi let his shoulders relax. “And she’s smart. Too smart for her own good, to be honest.”

“I know we should have made for Trost hours ago,” Levi muttered, kicking a rock with his boot. “I’m putting everyone at risk for making us stay behind and look for her.”

“We take risks every day. What’s one more?”

“You’re the only one who knows why I took this risk.” He glanced over at them. “You’re the only one who knows what she means to me.”

Hange smiled knowingly and patted his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Levi. I know it.”

You lost track of how many hours had passed, and you could no longer feel your feet. Your legs felt like jelly. You could barely see straight. At some point during the journey, your wound had split open and dripped fresh blood down your face.

You were so tired. Every inch of your body ached.

Come back to me.

“I can’t!” you sobbed into the open air, feeling salty tears spill from your eyes and mix with the blood on your face. “I can’t do it!”

As you cried out in anguish, your knees buckled with exhaustion and you fell to the ground with a pained grunt. The grass felt so soft against your cheeks as you pressed your face into it, sobbing uncontrollably into the dirt. Pretty soon the sun would rise again, and the Titans would wake to hear your cries. You knew for a fact you had no strength left to fight them.

Come back to me.

You sniffled, wiping the snot and blood from your nose with your sleeve. Levi would be disgusted by the state of you, but the thought of his repulsion made you crack a smile.

With some effort, you rose into a kneeling position and tilted your face towards the sky. You could hear birds beginning to chirp, and the glow from the rising sun in the distance slowly started to illuminate your surroundings.

You closed your eyes and exhaled softly, feeling the cool morning air on your bloodied cheeks. Mornings have always been your favorite time of day. It was quiet, still and peaceful, before everyone else in the world had a chance to wake up. You wondered if this would be the last early morning you would ever get to see.

You opened your eyes and looked forward again, expecting to see Titans milling about. But to your fortune, there were none in sight.

But what was in sight was a cluster of old, abandoned houses. A village.

Shelter.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, struggling to get to your feet. It wasn’t Trost, but it might as well have been a chest of treasure waiting for you. There would be rations hidden somewhere, and maybe a bed to sleep on. Protection from Titans. Maybe you would live to see another day.

Each step forward was agonizing, but you ground your teeth so hard you thought your jaw would fall off to keep yourself from faltering. A hundred yards. Fifty yards. Twenty—

“Captain!” you heard someone shout. You froze in your tracks and tried to find the source of the voice, and your eyes landed on a familiar face standing on top of the one of the houses. It was Jean. You had found them.

He slid from the roof and landed not-so-gracefully in the grass, running full speed towards you.

“Jean,” you said weakly, reaching out a hand to him. He caught you right before you could collapse to the ground again, hefting you up in his arms and carrying you towards the village. Your head lolled to the side and fell against his warm shoulder. You couldn’t stay awake any longer. The last thing you saw was the rest of the squad running towards Jean carrying you, but the only face you could focus on was Levi’s.

Levi rescinded his normal post at the head of the squad to sit beside [Y/N] in one of the wagons as they began their journey back to Trost. He still couldn’t believe it. She had survived a night alone, with no food, barely enough gas for one launch, and blades that were one strike away from snapping. If she had been anyone else, she would be dead.

The others had said nothing when he held her hand the entire time Hange stitched up the wound that had split open along her hairline. They said nothing when he ran his fingers along her jawline and over her parted lips as she slept. It was as if they had known the entire time.

Levi watched [Y/N] carefully in the back of the wagon, his grey eyes never once leaving her face. She hadn’t woken up yet, not since she had passed out in Jean’s arms after he found her in the field. He was concerned her head injury had forced her to slip into a coma, but Hange dismissed it.

He vowed that once [Y/N] awoke, he would tell her how he truly felt.

White light filtered in through an unseen window, and you were certain you were dead. This was what came after. Eternal blankness.

But pretty soon your surroundings came into clearer view. You were in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. Sunlight was trickling through an open window nearby, and the sounds of a city spilled over the sill.

You blinked your groggy eyes and groaned in pain. God, everything hurt. With a weak hand, you reached up and felt the coarse bandage that was wrapped around your forehead.

You had survived.

“You shouldn’t touch your bandages,” a voice said beside you. “You’ll get them dirty.”

You slowly turned your head and focused on Levi sitting next to you, a book in his lap. The dark circles underneath his eyes were harsh against his skin, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“How long have I been asleep?” you croaked, wincing at your voice.

“Two and a half days,” he replied, closing the book and setting it aside.

“Shit,” you muttered. You shut your eyes and swallowed painfully. “I thought I had died.”

He was quiet for a moment before scooting his chair closer to your bed. You cracked an eye open and watched his furrowed brow and concerned expression as he folded his hands atop the sheets. Something was bothering him.

“What is it?” you asked.

Levi didn’t look at you, but his eyes narrowed while he studied his folded hands. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about has been lost,” he spoke, and you could hear the emotion hidden behind the words. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “But you—you’re the first one to come back.”

You were stunned into silence and the only thing you found you could do was stare at him in shock. Levi...cared about you? “What are you talking about?”

“I...I thought I had lost you,” he said tightly, still not meeting your eyes. “I was willing to force the entire squad to stay behind and look for you, even if it put them at risk. I couldn’t leave you behind, not knowing if you were alive or not. I just...couldn’t do it.” He looked up at you then, his face hardened with determination. “[Y/N], I can’t bring myself to say the words because I’m convinced I’ve been cursed and you’ll be taken away from me again if I do, but…” he trailed off and focused on his hands again.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said softly. “When I was out there, all alone and trying to find the strength and courage not to die in some forgotten field, you were the voice in my head telling me to get up and move. You told me to come back to you.”

Levi’s jaw twitched again, and his dark hair fell into his eyes as he bowed his head to his folded hands.

“And I did,” you murmured. “Because I knew you would kick my ass if I disobeyed an order.”

A flicker of a smile passed across his face, so fleeting you almost missed it. He stood up and tenderly placed a hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair. His thumb stretched to gently caress your bandaged forehead as he watched you with those tired eyes.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, picking up his book. “Get some more rest.”

You nodded and he turned towards the door.

“Levi?” you found yourself saying.

He glanced at you over his shoulder with his hand resting on the doorknob. “Yes?”

Your lower lip trembled as you looked at him with glistening eyes. “You’re not going to make me scrub out the mess hall for being reckless, are you?”

Levi arched an eyebrow. “We’ll find out.”

Before you could sputter out an answer, he was already gone. You settled back against your pillow with a happy sigh and felt the exhaustion sneaking back into your bones. Another nap sounded nice. As you slowly closed your eyes and slipped away to the dreaming world, your last thoughts were of Levi.

They would always be of Levi.

#this is so self indulgent #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyoujin fanart #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #levi ackerman imagine #attack on titan imagine #my writing

699 notes · View notes

jaedore · 4 years ago

Text

BINDING BONDS | 10

< prev | next >

parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, asshole Jaehyun, swearing

[ ☽ smut (suggestive) | ◇ angst (belittling, swearing) ]

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue. MINORS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, but I advise you to skip the sexual parts.

[ 8k words ]

You can feel the Spring breeze settle on your skin, the cooling wind planting goosebumps on your naked back as it brushes the blankets from your body. You reach for Jaehyun and his warmth, but the familiar body isn’t next to yours. Lifting your heavy head, you search for him in the room to only find him leaning against the balcony, overlooking the city below his feet. Putting on one of his t-shirts, you walk to him and put your arm on his back, rubbing circles on it. Jaehyun’s gaze continues to stick to the city. To you, it looks like he didn’t get a lick of sleep, dark eye bags painted his face, restlessness coating his eyes, his face showed no emotion.

“Good morning,” you smile. You comb your fingers through his hair hoping to alleviate whatever weighed his mind, “you okay?”

Jaehyun slightly nods to you, his head falling before he turned to face you, “yeah,” he said, “let’s get going or we’re going to be late.”

With that, Jaehyun turned around to head back to your room. Confusion blurs your mind as you watch his figure pick up the discarded clothes from last night. Why was he acting like this? Usually, he’d still be in bed and holding you in his arms, being all lovey-dovey. Was it something that you did last night that he didn’t like? Were you giving too much? Or too little? Did he just not get enough sleep? Nothing but the latter would answer your question after seeing him rub his face.

“Do you want to go grab breakfast before we go? We have a bit of time,” you glanced at the clock.

“No, actually. I’d like to get home as quickly as possible,” Jaehyun responded, not giving you a glimpse as he shoves clothes into his luggage, his hands tightening in stress as he didn’t bother to fold them but instead bunch them in his fists.

“Okay,” you drag out, “are you busy at work?” You asked. You wanted to know if something came up from work that he suddenly had to attend, but that thought disappeared as Jaehyun peered at you with a sliver of frustration.

“Yes, please. Let’s go home.”

You two board the plane, sitting next to each other not peeping a word. The tension between you two was so heavy that even the plane itself would struggle to cut through it. You sat still in your seat focused on your tablet as you did some work, but you also didn’t speak to him, afraid that you’d set something off. And Jaehyun didn’t say anything to you, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

You’re only married to her for business, you think this is all happy and fairytale-like? That everything’s all lovey-dovey just because you’re married upon a contract? No, I bet she doesn’t love you, she probably hates you because of you who are. A dirty, scathing, slug who only clings to the Jung name. Get your head out of your ass. The words his father spat at him echoed in his mind, it was like he etched his own words into Jaehyun’s brain, making sure they’d stick there.

He turned to you, who fell fast asleep, your head hanging over your tablet. Like second nature, Jaehyun gently supported your head until it was up against the headrest, he knows you’d complain about the pain if you stayed in that position. You looked so graceful, harmonious, you are everything he’s ever wanted but he knows he’s far from perfect. Jaehyun knows that you are perfect, that you deserve someone perfect, someone better than him. Who was broken, unfixable, and cold. Last night was the last night you were going to have each other, for he was convinced that there will no longer be a moment to cherish, a moment to be intimate, a moment to love. You were too good for him and he had been too selfish.

When he saw you about to wake, Jaehyun snapped his head back to the window, waiting for the sight of home to desperately reappear and for things to go in the way they were meant to be, just like how it was in the beginning. Maybe it was always supposed to be like that.

Perhaps you were tired and drained, or possibly just sleeping to avoid conversing with Jaehyun. You knew he was still frustrated so you didn’t think it’d be the right time to talk about your trip, you hoped you could reflect on that with him when he’s ready. You genuinely enjoyed every bit of it and you have hope that he did too.

It’s 5 AM when you arrive back home, the dark night sits upon you two like the mood. Not a word has been exchanged since this morning before boarding and the feeling that you did something that wasn’t pleasant to him still lingered in your mind.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your body shifted in the passenger seat towards his.

“I’m perfect.”

“You haven’t talked to me ever since last night.”

“I’m just tired, the time zone has me all messed up,” Jaehyun responds, his voice calm.

Bullshit. You thought. “What happened at work? You said it was because of work that’s got you frustrated.”

“I fixed it on the plane. We just had to seal a hard deal, but everything should be fine now.” he keeps his gaze on the road, but you saw the way his fist tightened against the steering wheel like he was trying to refrain himself from saying something.

You reached for his free hand that rested on the console, “you know you can tell me anything,” you caressed it.

“I don’t want to talk about y/n, I had a hard day today.” He responds in a calm tone, but it’s enough to slightly set you off in a bad mood because you were just trying to be considerate.

You don’t bother to respond, so you pay no mind to him the entire ride back home. You two are quiet in your seats again, letting the hum of the car above the pavement take over the silence.

The sun begins to rise as you two safely arrive home, ready to sleep through the day hopefully to prepare yourselves for the following weekday. You two are quick to shower and change and settle for bed. You wait up for Jaehyun as he finishes doing his nightly routine, gazing at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom you try to read his expression as to what is really wrong with him. Jaehyun wasn’t acting normal to you, but maybe he was telling the truth, that it is the jetlag and he’s just had a really hard day.

Jaehyun glances at your posture, reading how your arms are crossed and your forehead is creased, it definitely lets him know that you want to talk, but your features soften when you catch him glancing at you. Your arms fall to your sides and you turn away from him, covering yourself under the sheets as you let out a disappointed sigh. In the flash of a second, he knows that you’re disappointed. Were you disappointed in yourself? Or in the tension between you two and his lack of care to communicate to you?

Quietly, Jaehyun crawls beside you, mimicking your actions, his back facing you like there was a wall between and no one dared to knock it down, for who knows what chaos it would bring.

The next couple of mornings brought coldness to your body. Every morning when you woke up, he was already gone and out the door, not a text was sent, not a note was posted. Nothing. Like he just vanished in thin air until he appeared with the moon when you were deep asleep.

You went to bed every night alone, too tired to wait up for him. You tried to talk to him, but it’d always just result in him brushing you off like the dust on the picture of you two in Paris you gifted him. Even if you did talk to him, it was short and general. When you tried to ask him what was wrong, you’d apparently press the wrong buttons and an argument would ensue.

One night you grew out of his silent treatment. As soon as he stepped through your shared apartment, the time had already reached midnight. Jaehyun walked in, surprised to see you sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in your hands as you gazed at the lights that protruded through the night sky. The image of you before him made him long for you. He knew you were upset, he could tell in the glint of your eyes when your head turned to the sound of his steps.

“I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“I wanted to see you for once,” you respond.

“Look,” Jaehyun breathes, “it’s been busy at work.”

“I can imagine-” you scoff, “-but do you think I haven’t been busy either? I still try to make time for us, but every time I do, it’s like you don’t want it.”

“That’s not true. You know that.”

“But do I Jaehyun? You’ve been ignoring me for days! Every moment I talk to you, we always get on each other’s nerves and end up arguing. I haven’t even held you since we came back home. Please, please just tell me what’s going on.” You plead at the man in front of you, whose expression hasn't changed. You’re convinced that Jaehyun has turned off every emotion in his body, you’ve seen the cold, expressionless look too many times to count.

“It’s just a bad time right now at work,” Jaehyun defends.

“Yeah, I get it, everything is because of work. I got it,” you sigh, clearly too tired of the same answer over and over again. Perhaps it was a sign for you to stop.

You stand from the couch, legs stiff from sitting so much, and you walk up to your room. Jaehyun doesn’t call after you. You even turn around to see him still sitting in the same position, his body facing where you once were. You wanted him to say your name, to run to you and envelop you, telling what was truly wrong. When the silence reached your ears, with sad eyes you left him in the living room until he was ready to come to bed.

You don’t know when Jaehyun came, but when you felt the mattress dip behind you, you had a sudden urge to turn around and hold him in your arms, but when you turned around, you saw the well-known image of his back facing you. It took all of you to stop when you found yourself shifting your body towards him. You wrapped your arms around his large frame, sniffing the back of his shirt, inhaling the scent you missed every time you held each other. Leaning your head on his sturdy back, you heard his steady heartbeat. How peaceful it sounded.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but please, let me know. I’m here for you, Jae. Please, please talk to me. I just miss you, I love you. I don’t know what happened that made us like this but please,” you beg, clutching onto him tightly as you prevent yourself from crying. You held him as tight as you could, afraid that if you loosen your hold, he’d slip right through your fingers like sand.

Little did you know, Jaehyun heard you, he heard your sniffles and your broken voice. He knows you’re hurt because of him, but he also knows that this is for the better. It’s far better than if he were to completely give himself to you and let you do the same. So answering with silence, Jaehyun shifted away from your hold, leaving you alone and cold for the night.

When he moved away from your body, you felt your heart clench. Your chest heaved and quiet tears streamed down your face as the cold air hit your chest. His silence and action threw answers that confirmed you were his problem. With a small part chipping from your heart, you turned your back to him, a regular body position you grew accustomed to. Minutes onto your side, you quietly turn back to check if Jaehyun was sleeping. His soft snores and long breaths proved your thoughts and with silent steps, you left.

You weren’t as silent as you thought, though. Jaehyun felt you leave, he heard you collect your things, shut the door, and exit the apartment. A big part of him wanted to sprint to you, but the other restrained him, bound him to the bed like the stars to the sky.

Exiting the parking garage, you drove off into the night. You had no idea where to go at this time of the night, but the only person you wanted to see right now was your best friend. You took out your phone and dialed Haewon’s number, clinging to the hope that she’d pick up at 2 AM.

After a couple of rings, the familiar voice rang through the line, “y/n? Why are you calling this late? Are you okay?” the grogginess could be heard in her voice and at once you felt bad for waking her up at such an inconvenient time.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Can I sleep at your place tonight?”

“Of course. Text me when you’re here.”

Haewon kindly offered you the other side of her bed, since it was big enough for you two and possibly even somebody else. The soft duvet fell over your figure as you wrapped yourself in the nostalgic blankets, remembering the feeling from when you were young and would always have sleepovers with her. What the old times brought.

As always, Haewon was kind in letting you lay in peace before speaking. You were a composed person always with organized thoughts, but how come the expression across your face contradicts that?

“We’re fighting again.”

Haewon’s head shoots to you with wide eyes, your face still facing the ceiling, “are you serious?”

You nod to her answer, not knowing what other information to provide to her that won’t make you break down in tears. You were always horrible at holding your emotions in for such a long time that the tears brimmed and streamed down the corners of your eyes, wetting the side of your face.

“Oh, honey,” Haewon coos you as she wraps her arms around you, giving you the warmth of her hug and the comfort in her touch as she rubs circles on your back, letting you cry out everything you’ve shoved down.

“Paris was fine, it was fun, and I thought things were going great between us. But the morning we had to leave, it’s like he shut off all of his emotions. He won’t even speak to me and every time he does, it’s short-lived,” you briefly explain as your breath is still stable.

“Do you guys argue a lot?”

You glanced at her, “yes, but it isn’t as bad as before. It’s not what you think, but whenever something small happens, he just bursts at me.” Even through complications, you still find yourself defending Jaehyun.

“Arguing is still arguing y/n,” she breathed, “I can’t believe he’s still doing this to you. Have you talked about it to him?”

You shook your head, “Every time I try to, he always disregards it or says it’s because of work.”

“Bullshit,” it’s like Haewon read your mind, but only said them aloud.

“I-I don’t know what to do Haewon,” you stuttered as your arms fell to your side.

“Maybe something happened at home?” her voice rose in suspicion. No, she didn’t know about Jaehyun’s father, but there were always circulating rumors.

You inhaled a sharp breath, yourself beginning to calm down from your high of crying, “maybe. I don’t know, I’m done trying to talk to him for now.”

Haewon embraced you in her arms, “come,” she lowered your body to the bed, “let’s get some rest.”

As you lay alone in the silence, with Haewon fast asleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe the reason why Jaehyun’s been worked up is because of his father. Maybe something really bad happened between them and Jaehyun didn’t want to tell you. Were you two really lovers if he couldn’t communicate with you? But again, it is something very private to him. Your heart began to play games while your mind made sure to keep your thoughts linear, but your heart won the match and by the time the sun rose, you hadn’t gotten the slightest bit of sleep. You woke up before Haewon did, texting her your thankfulness before driving back to your apartment.

Jaehyun also couldn’t sleep. Without you by his side, how was he supposed to? Even if he was the one to push you away for the better, he knows his heart only belongs to you now. His large body took over your space and his limbs stretched to all corners of the bed hoping that he could build the same amount of warmth your body did when it was here.

Carefully, you cracked the door open to your shared bedroom, Jaehyun laid on his back, conceiving all the space on the bed. The fall and rise of his chest made your heart waver because you just wanted to jump in bed, to feel him, and to smell that homey scent he always carried. How peaceful things were before...where and why did it go so wrong?

“You’re here,” Jaehyun rose from his bed, snapping you from your trance, “where’d you go?”

You shifted your gaze from him, “yeah, I spent the night at Haewon’s,” you grabbed your clothes that hung in the closet, not giving Jaehyun any attention and getting yourself ready for the day. You heard a small “oh” coming from him as he left for the bathroom. You let out a long sigh that neglected to relieve any tension your shoulders held.

You swung your blazer around your shoulders as you sat down on the edge of the bed, after finishing making it. Just in time, Jaehyun came out of the bathroom. Hair wet, towel around his waist, robust body, what a sight that captivated your eyes. The last time you saw him this revealing was your last night in Paris and that was a while ago, everything has changed after that. He was so tender, soft, and kind, the longing feeling weighed on your chest as your eyes followed his naked figure into the closet.

“Jae,”

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?” you asked.

“What about?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? Is it because of your father? Are you having nightmares again?” Your gaze fell upon your fumbling fingers before Jaehyun could snap his head at you.

He hesitated, “no.” lies. Part of it was, but most of it was because of his own self. Jaehyun couldn’t risk ruining your successful life with his dark, corrupt one. You were the most perfect person he’s met, even with imperfections and flaws, he saw you as an angel. He saw himself as the dust that was even lucky enough to brush past your beautiful face.

“Then what’s the matter? Why haven’t you been talking to me, Jaehyun? Everything’s changed since we got back from Paris.” You stood from the bed in your poor attempts to get closer to him.

Jaehyun let out a loud sigh, clearly letting you know he didn’t want to talk about this, “can we just talk about this after work? I don’t want to start the day like this.”

Again. Again and again. How many more times will he brush this conversation? How many more times will he brush you off? You felt hopeless like you were drowning and Jaehyun was in the boat above you watching you be engulfed by the water, yet refusing to give you the anchor.

“This is pointless,” you mumble. You quickly collected your things and left after making sure to slam the door behind you.

Jaehyun watched you leave, it hurt him every time you did because he didn’t know if you’d come back. Every time he made you leave, you were angry and the night would just end up being filled with slammed doors and cold nights, whether you were present or not. He stared at the bedroom door for what felt like hours, wishing that you’d come back and want to talk about it and fix things. But what was he expecting when he was constantly pushing you away at every chance that was given to him?

The day didn’t go by any faster, any moment you had to yourself, your mind was occupied with Jaehyun. Like he made a home there and didn’t plan on leaving. You found it hard to not overthink everything. From the home-cooked meals to the sex, you couldn’t find anything wrong that you did. Maybe he didn’t enjoy the sex? Am I too controlling? What if I’m not giving him enough? Or Any? What if that’s it??

You sat in your seat, completely disregarding the presentation. Who cares about rubber shoes? Audace is a chic, luxury fashion brand, we don’t do rubber. You were so occupied in your thoughts that with abruptness, you stood from your chair and left the meeting without a word. You carried your portfolio and bag out the door with you, not bothering to stop at your office.

At Jung Corporations, Jaehyun had just finished a meeting while his father was at another meeting outside of the building. He thanked the gods for their grace in giving him his own office, he wouldn’t be able to last a minute in the same room with his father. Looking over the notes on his tablet, his mind wandered to you again. Like your mind, you lived in his. Jaehyun always pondered if you’ve eaten, if you were taking plenty of mental breaks, and giving yourself the kindness your heart needed. Especially when he was treating you like this, he was sure to tell himself that this is for the best. He knows deep down in his heart that you deserve someone who can love you better than he can. Someone who can not only give you the utmost, fulfilling love, but also life.

Like his whispered wishes, you barged through his doors. Jaehyun stood from his seat as he watched you saunter up to his desk with determination and anger in your eyes. There was no greeting, no hello, no warning, but just you pressing your lips against his. Oh, how much he’s missed the feeling, the warming pleasure from your lips, and how they executed tenderness. Like his body was running on his own, his arms made their way home on your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You gently tugged on the hair that laid on Jaehyun’s nape as he lured you to his body, before picking your legs and brushing papers from his desk to clear a space for you.

You weren’t even thinking clearly, you were only driven by your emotions, but you missed him so much that even this kiss was everything. It’s everything that you ever wanted and you were ready to surrender and give all of your morals to him.

Wrapping your legs around Jaehyun’s hips, he made his fingers busy by unbuttoning your top that laid beneath your blazer, later tearing it from you. Jaehyun’s fingertips set your skin aflame, every follicle of hair, skin he touched was burning and aching for more.

“Please, please,” you whined when Jaehyun’s kisses trailed to your neck, giving your sweet spot attention.

Regrettably, those words snapped Jaehyun from his muse. This is wrong, he thought as he immediately pulled away from you. You stared at him with your mouth slightly open, ready to say something, but he beat you to it.

“This is wrong,” Jaehyun choked out.

“I thought that this is what you wanted,” you whispered.

He scoffed in disbelief, “are you being serious right now, y/n? Do you even hear yourself? Thinking that I only want you for your body?”

“Well, it seems like it is because this worked,” you shot back, jumping from the desk.

“You think that I’m in this for the sex?” Jaehyun questioned you, as you collected yourself again.

It was your turn to scoff, “I’d like to think that because you haven’t spoken to me at all.”

“We just talked this morning!” Jaehyun retorted.

“Not like that. I mean like, actually talking about things other than your day, your work. I’m tired of it, I just want to talk about the things you enjoy, the things you want to do with me in the future.” You explained, sliding your blazer back on your cold body.

“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t talk about you for a couple of days.”

“That’s not what I meant! Oh my gosh Jaehyun, you are so oblivious.” You grabbed your things and left.

You sat in your car, your head falling in your palms. What has gotten into you? This is not you, you never act so rashly like his. You’ve changed and right now you’re beginning to think it was for the worse. Tears threatened to brim at your eyes, but you pressed your palm against them hoping that they’d stay in because you still had half a day of work left.

“Where have you been? You left so suddenly at the meeting,” your mother asked.

“I just needed to take care of something.” You lied.

“Is it because of Jaehyun? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, we just had to figure some things out. Don’t worry about it mother,” you lied, again. How many more times were you going to lie to your own mother? Lie that you were okay and that you weren’t hurt, heartbroken?

“Okay,” she sighed in defeat, you were indeed stubborn, “well if you’re not busy, go check how the Designing Department is doing, and then you can head home. You don’t look too good.”

“Yes, mother,” you nodded and headed to the lower level.

You stood in the elevator, waiting for it to get to the designated floor. Your mind replayed your little stunt. You still hated yourself for making your way to Jung Corporations, just how desperate are you y/n?

Ding!

You stride towards the prototyping of the outfits, double-checking that everything was right. Making sure that each outfit was according to the style of Audace. You were already in preparation for Paris Fashion Week, you can’t let a small bead even be misplaced. Every stitching had to have the exact, appointed color; every fabric must be to scale and cut sharply, no loose threads. There’s no space for mistakes anymore.

“How is this going, Chaeyoung?” Your eyes narrowed to speculate the embroidery of a jacket.

“Perfect, we’re almost done. All we have to do is to sew in the beads in the embroidery.” Her head nodded to the jacket as her hands were occupied with another mannequin’s outfit.

“I’m pleased to hear.”

“Um, Miss y/n?” Chaeyoung’s voice called, but her tone was informal like she was talking to you as a friend.

You turn towards her, humming for her call.

“Are you okay? If I’m being honest, you don’t look the best,” she worriedly states.

You blink a couple of times, even your mother said that you didn't look too good. Just how bad did you actually look? Last time you saw your reflection, you thought you looked decent, healthy at least. You nodded to Chaeyoung, “I’m fine, thank you. I’m actually heading home right now, so I’ll make sure to get plenty of rest.”

“Oh...okay. I hope everything is okay.”

Before leaving, you smiled at her consideration. It was interesting how everything ended up this way, especially between you two. You’d think that she’d have bad blood for you, but her kindness always made you reconsider that. In another world, you hoped that you two were genuine, friends.

You arrived home before Jaehyun, setting your things down at your feet, your body couldn’t even grasp energy to change. As soon as you closed the door, you grabbed a glass of water and sat on the couch waiting for Jaehyun to come home.

The sky that was painted in streaks of red and orange, transfigured into dark hues, letting the moon take care of the people for the night. You found your mind reminiscing about your past and the fun trip to Paris. Everything was fun as long as it lasted, you somehow knew things were going to get worse before they got better, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad and come so soon.

The familiar click of the door perked your head towards Jaehyun who looked like he had a stressful day. Maybe it was because of you, but you were silently praying that you were wrong.

“Hey,” he greeted, untying his shoes.

“Hi,” you shifted in your seat, waiting for him to come your way.

Feeling the dip on the sofa, you two sat in silence, letting the absence of sound drape over the apartment. Only the sounds of the beating of each other’s heart could be heard among the hum of the city and the heat that flowed into your apartment. The flickering lights of the city reflected against your tall windows as you let yourself speak first.

“What happened between us?”

Jaehyun shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been avoiding me every second you have and when you do have a second, you’re arguing with me. Clearly-” you emphasized, “-I did something.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then what is it? Is it your father?” your head turns to him, brows creased in concern. Jaehyun gave you no answer and you sensed that you were right, his father was the core of all this. “Jaehyun, it’s okay. I can help you.” you reached for his hand only to have him yank it away from you.

“Don’t you understand? You can’t help me.” Jaehyun stood from the couch, walking to the kitchen. Frustration coated his words and it began to dig into your skin. You didn’t want to pry too much or press his buttons again, you just wanted to help.

“Then tell me how. We can do this together,” your strides attempted to reach his figure, “I can find a way.”

Jaehyun’s body rapidly turns to you, immediately making you stop in your tracks. Especially when you see red, anger in his eyes, “no, you can’t. Unfortunately, you can’t help me at all.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, Jaehyun. We can find someone professional who can help.”

“You don’t understand and you never will y/n!” He shouted. Your body slightly jumps from the reverberate of his voice, it’s been so long since he’s yelled at you like that and this time, it stings your skin like salt on your past wounds. “You will never understand because this-” he points to his chest, the one over his heart, “-is who I am.”

“No it’s not, this isn’t you Jaehyun.” you walk towards him, but Jaehyun only steps back away from you.

“Yes, it is, y/n. This is who I am. I have been like this until you changed me for the worse. I cannot be fixed. I cannot be helped! I am like this!! This is who I am!!” Jaehyun repeats it several times until it’s ingrained in your mind. His shouting shoots at the wall vibrating his voice into your ears and it doesn’t sit well into your stomach.

“You’re angry. I get it, let’s just breathe, okay?” You offer your palms to him, understanding that he could just be stressed. You’re ultimately wrong when he aggressively slides all of the papers and decorations off the kitchen table, letting the plants and papers crumble to the floor.

“Don’t tell me to breathe y/n! I have held it in for so long, that I can’t do this anymore!” His chest rises from his hard pants.

You stay quiet, anxious to ask him what flashed through your head in red blinking lights, “do what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but Jaehyun hears it break.

“This. I can’t do this marriage,” Jaehyun replies in the same tone.

“When?”

He looks at you with furrowed brows, “When what?”

“Since when did you know you couldn’t do this?” tears begin to brim at your eyes, but couldn’t find care in the world to hold them back. Not after what you’ve been through, what he put you through.

Jaehyun’s face becomes expressionless, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hit me with that bullshit, Jaehyun,” you scoffed, “since when did you fucking know?”

“Our last night in Paris.”

A loud sigh escapes your lips as tears stream down your face, wetting your cheeks, barely holding onto your jaw. “Then did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Jaehyun asks. His meaningless questions burrow themselves under your skin, how oblivious could he be?

“When you said you love me you asshole!” this time it’s your time to shout, but it’s more of a cry for help. You’re begging for him to give you the answer you want, but the world never liked playing on your side.

It was like time had slowed down. You only stood a few feet from Jaehyun but it felt like miles. So far, yet so close. He stood in front of you hesitating his answer, debating if he could give you the truth or if it was better to rip off the bandaid and put a new one on it.

“No.”

You’re hysterical at this point, your cries turn into scoffs of breaths, which turns into laughter. They’re quick to rebound into loud cries when you feel your legs becoming weak. Instead of falling to the floor, you force yourself to stomp to your bedroom.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow you, wondering what you could be doing. His answer quickly comes to him when you leave the room with your large duffle bag in your hand, full and zipped.

“Where are you going at this time?” Jaehyun asks, surprised he even found the courage in him to ask.

“Out. I’m done Jaehyun.” You slam the door shut behind, leaving Jaehyun in the empty, cold apartment.

You ended up going back home, finding yourself in a spot where you had to explain to your mother.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you cried in your mother’s arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay to cry” she stroked your hair as she held you in her arms, “it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to feel what you need to feel.”

Since your father was overseas, you slept with your mother, you couldn’t stand not being alone at this time. Being in your mother's arms reminded you of when you were little and you couldn’t sleep without her by your side, it makes you miss how easy life was. How happy you were without a worry.

It’s been days since you’ve texted or called Jaehyun, he hasn’t bothered to reach out to you either. Every night for you was filled with tear-stained pillows and the unnerving feeling of calling Jaehyun, but you never reached across your bed for your phone. You two were good at being stubborn in ignoring each other, it makes you wonder if this was now the end.

However, Jaehyun wasn’t handling the situation well. Every morning brought him agony that it wasn’t a nightmare, that this was real and you were truly gone. He stayed away from drinking, the clubs, and only locked himself in the master bedroom, away from the world. Jaehyun often looked out the window, looking below at the city. Knowing that the road leads up to the apartment building, he always watched out for your car, but he only saw it in his dreams. Jaehyun waited and waited for you to come back. Again, what is he expecting? He’s done his deed in pushing you away in the worst way possible, how much more did he want from you? Why was he now asking for you to come back into his arms when all you’ve been is forgiving and loving to him? And he was the one to ruin all of it? The one to just throw it away like it meant absolutely nothing to him when it really meant the world. It’s fucked up, it really is.

Jaehyun thought about you every day. You live in his mind, you go to work with him, you’re in the car with him, you go to bed with him. He pretends you’re there in spirit, but he knows you’re physically gone. Insane, that is what he is.

“Come on, it’s been days! You have to come out,” Taeyong speaks through Jaehyun’s phone.

Jaehyun sighs, “not tonight Yong.”

“You’ve been saying that every time I call you. You never come out anymore, is it because of y/n? Are you finally getting tied down?” Taeyong only says it to joke around, but little did he know, it had a great effect on Jaehyun.

“Can you just shut the fuck up man? Jeez,” Jaehyun hangs up on Taeyong, clearly angry. He’s not though, he’s been constantly hurting, but Taeyong finds out the second he’s hung up on.

That’s why in the next ten minutes, there’s a hard knock at the door, forcing Jaehyun to drag his body to the door.

“What?” Jaehyun deadpans at his best friend who wore a smile on his face, which shortly falters after noticing the darkest bags under a pair of eyes.

“What happened to you?” Taeyong walks past Jaehyun, welcoming himself into the apartment. He looks around, for never being in here, he considers it as a luxury apartment, but something was missing. It felt cold and empty in here. “Y/n here?”

When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns to see Jaehyun silently crying, his head hanging in his palms. His shoulders shake from his cries as Taeyong embraces his best friend. Taeyong is completely lost, not knowing what was going on, but the only thing he knew was that he needed to be there for Jaehyun.

“She’s gone,” Jaehyun sniffles.

Taeyong pulls away to hear it again, hoping that the words Jaehyun expressed were false. Each time they’d meet up Jaehyun would never shut up about you, in the beginning, he’d grumble about the little things that you did that irked him, but as time went on, he found the little things to be the most precious. Taeyong found Jaehyun as a new jubilant person, he’d always look forward to things, he’d smile more at others, there was an unbeknownst glow that you brought to Jaehyun’s heart.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Taeyong’s brows creased.

“She hasn’t been home for days Taeyong. She’s fucking gone!!” Jaehyun shouted at his friend, bloodshot, red, painted within his eyes.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into a month. Yes, you kept count. It’s been almost a month without a sound from Jaehyun. You despised yourself for always checking your phone, thinking that the ding you heard was a text from him or a ring was a call from him. Your hopes failed you when you were faced with the ghost presence of him. A huge part of your heart wanted to forgive and go back into his arms, but another wanted to completely disappear from his world. You wanted to erase yourself from his story. You knew you couldn’t go back after he admitted that he couldn’t find it in himself to marry you or the fact that he didn’t mean a single action or word when you two were in Paris.

Lies everything was a complete lie. You slam your portfolio shut as you gather your things into your bag. You informed your mother that you’d be home later, you had to go back to the apartment to collect your belongings. All of them.

As you drive down the old road, little memories of you and Jaehyun lingered in your mind. The late, late ice cream runs, the drives to watch the sunset or sunrise at the pier, the little bits of laughter echoed through your ears, and the cold walks among the beach where you’d walk close to him. You two built many sandcastles that were washed away too soon by the harsh waves.

The familiar, tall, silver building came into view too quickly. You parked your car into the parking garage and walked up to your room, your feet remembering every single step so well that you could’ve gone up safely with your eyes closed. You softly knock on the door, fully knowing that Jaehyun was home. After Taeyong visited Jaehyun, he called you that day, and several days after that, begging you to visit him for Jaehyun had been isolating himself and was completely miserable.

The door swung open, letting a brisk wind blow past you, the nostalgic smell of your apartment softly hitting your nostrils. How much you’ve missed this.

“Y/n.”

“Hey,” your eyes scanned the man in front of you. Disheveled hair, dark eye bags, swollen eyes, and he looked like he’d been lacking in cooking for himself. Taeyong was right, he was completely miserable. But as much as your heart longed to forgive him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give him that kind of benefit again.

“Come in,” Jaehyun opens the door wider for you to come in. Nothing about the place has changed. You’re surprised by such a messy image of him, the place is well kept.

“I’m just here to collect my remaining belongings,” you reply, already making your way up to your once shared bedroom before hearing a quiet “oh” from him.

The room resembled your heart, it was chaotic. The bed wasn’t made, the curtains were halfway drawn, drawers were slightly opened by his inability to shove his clothes fully in, the laundry basket was overflowing and spilling of clothes, letting it scatter amongst the carpet.

“Jaehyun,” you silently whisper at the state the room was in. You weren’t mad, you were just disheartened that Jaehyun had been this frustrated that he couldn’t even take care of himself.

“I’m sorry,” he shoved past you, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he tripped over his feet by trying to pick up his dispersed clothing from the floor.

“Jaehyun,” you choked out at the poor man who sat on the floor, scrambling on his knees unable to get back up, and you couldn’t resist it any longer. He looked so frail, like a broken vase that had just been recently glued. You rushed to him and held him close to your chest, letting out a choked cry and tears streaming down your face.

Along with your cries, Jaehyun’s was also heard. He clutched onto your arm that settled around him, afraid that if he’d let go he’d lose you forever. Heavy sobs left Jaehyun’s chest as his tears stained your shirt, were you here to stay with him?

Jaehyun pulled away from your embrace, he caressed your cheek as he brushed a tear from your eye, “please stay. Stay the night before we both decide we’re over.” He didn’t let you give him an answer because he knew you’d stay. Picking you up into his arms, he carried your frail body to the bed as you attempted to calm your breathing down. Jaehyun was careful in changing you out of your clothes and into a shirt of his, for that was the only thing that was left now.

Nonetheless, you let him carry you, change you, you let yourself stay because you knew that this was going to be the last night you’d see him. It was a horrible thing, but you prayed for only one more night with him.

Jaehyun’s body came flush to yours, letting his arms wrap around your waist to bring you impossibly closer. He looks at you with eyes full of love but also drowned in sadness. He knows you’re not here forever. Without hesitation, Jaehyun pressed his lips against yours, the very distant memory of his lips sliced through your mind making you yearn for him. It’s only been a month, but it felt like years since you’ve felt those pink, plump, soft lips of his. Like always, it interlocked with yours like the key to a lock, like the last piece of a puzzle, like the calming of a river. There was no stripping of clothes, no coitus, just the two of you locking your lips together, feeling nothing but the actions of your mouths molding together. Jaehyun’s hands wandered your body, his mind needed to memorize the landscape of your body just in case you’d leave forever. But soon, they found a home in your hair and on your waist, while you found your place on his back and nape, occasionally tugging his strands.

It continued for a while until your jaw grew tired, your mind was worn and you were emotionally and mentally drained. As much as you didn’t want to, you pulled away. Jaehyun’s head softly fell on your chest, hearing the steadiness of your heart before he closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun whispered before drifting off.

When Jaehyun woke up the next morning, you were gone. The cold, wrinkled bed sheet telling him that you left hours ago without a sound. From the corner of his eyes, a glint coming from your side’s drawer glared his vision from the sun. It was your ring and a key on top of a handwritten letter from you. Jaehyun firmly rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was seeing things, but it was too good to be true.

Dear Jaehyun,

We’ve spent these past few months in hate, lust, and love. We have so many lovely memories that I’ll cherish forever in my heart. From the drunken laughs to the pillow talks, I’ve enjoyed each moment with you, don’t you doubt it.

I wanted to thank you for the things you’ve taught me. You have given me the patience that I didn’t know I needed, you taught me how to forgive, and you’ve helped me acknowledge that it’s acceptable to stand up for what you believe in. Along with that, you taught me that people can change. I want you to understand that I was nowhere near trying to change you or fix you. You are not broken, you have the infinite ability for self-growth. I wanted to be there for you, I wanted to help you, trust me I really did. But I cannot be with you until you love yourself. I cannot see you love me more than you love yourself.

Don’t lie and tell me you haven’t meant anything you’ve said or done up until now. I know your heart, I know there’s love in there for me, your actions were always better than your words. You were never good at lying, your ears gave it away, but even so, your words found its way to my wounds and like salt, I gave it to you to pour on me.

We were always good at ignoring each other and running away from our problems. To this day, I will forever wish that I woke up next to you, but I can’t do this anymore. If you don’t want this marriage, and you mean it, please forgive me for giving you every access to my heart. I wish that I hadn’t settled into the feeling of being someone you loved.

My last wish is for you to find love for yourself. You are worthy, you are worthy of love and to be loved. You were never broken, you just had some cracked areas and I hope that you can go back and paint those areas with gold. You are a strong man, you’re capable of love, always remind yourself that.

By the time you get this, I’ll be out and probably somewhere lost among the crowd. Please don’t look for me anymore. I need time and I need to make peace with my heart. This key and this ring is my returned gift to you. I hope you can give them to someone strong enough to teach you what I couldn’t.

And perhaps if fate allows, we will meet again when we are older and wiser, but for now, goodbye Jaehyun.

With all my love,

y/n.

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun series #jaehyun au #jaehyun #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct au #nct imagines

577 notes · View notes

writeblrfantasy · 3 years ago

Text

Adventures of the Existential Three #1: The Great Debate Over Whether Damien Would Look Good in Gold (Turns Out He Looks Better Than)

AHHHH THE FIRST SHORT IS HERE!! remember how i said i'd post these very saturday? yeah that was a lie. also remember charys was supposed to be a non villain villain? yeah all the villain in him is the aesthetic. mans is the nicest softie ever

i thought about making the first one an introduction to their world and them, but i went with going straight in instead. i'm so proud of this, i'm so happy to be writing for the first time in weeks, and i hope you guys love this and all the rest of the shorts as much as i do <3<3 enjoy please

word count about 3100

tws kissing

It starts with, “I think you’d look wonderful in gold,” said with that characteristic eagerness and shit eating grin on Paris’ face. He leans back in his reclining chair and crosses his hands behind his head, glittering from hair to bootlace in his perfect gold. The sleeveless gold coat Charys chose for him tonight shines in the sunlight, and his golden suntanned skin has been rubbed with glitter.

Charys sighs, knowing he’s in for something. He sits back in the chair facing the vanity where they've been watching Damien prepare. Might as well let it happen.

Why does it always seem to start with Paris?

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Damien says, running two hands thick with oil through his dark hair. The three of them are preparing for a night at Charys’ favorite theater, putting on one of his favorite plays. While his lovers have heard him ramble about it at length, they’ve never seen it all together.

Charys was looking forward to the attention he’d be getting, surrounded by all his favorite people and things, but he has a feeling this conversation will steal it all away.

He’s less mad about the prospect than he expected. It’s not like it’s a rare occurrence, or an unpleasant one, when the idea of one of his lovers in something takes his breath away. Even the candlelight on the vanity casts gold shadow onto Damien's light brown skin, a suggestion of an idea.

“Gold is your color, Paris,” Damien says, shaking his head like it’s a stupid idea. Charys’ mind is already spinning, spinning, with possibilities, fabrics, textures…

“What, so no one else could look good in it?" Paris retorts. "I think you could put on a potato sack and you’d look just as good as you do now.”

Damien goes still and quiet as he does when he’s completely overwhelmed by even the cousin of a compliment.

“I’d have to second that,” Charys agrees, sitting up to place his hands on Damien’s shoulders. He startles at the touch, relaxing slightly when Charys begins massaging his stiff shoulders.

Charys just wanted to feel the dark green velvet jacket that looks just as good on Damien as he predicted, perfectly complementing his dark hair down to the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. But the allure of touching his lover overtakes him.

He’s done himself in by putting Damien in white earrings that drip from his ears and sparkle in the light.

“I’m sure I’d look in gold just as I do in everything else,” snaps Damien, sensitive, unwittingly agreeing with them. He stands up, and Charys mourns the loss of warmth under his fingertips. “What about Charys?”

“What about me?”

“You’d be—beautiful.” Charys sees and appreciates the difficulty Damien has pushing the word out. Expressions of his love said aloud have never been his strong suit. The effort makes him smile and his chest flutter like he's learning Damien for the first time. It takes laughably little to bring him back that feeling of giddy newness.

“That’s true,” Paris says. “He always looks beautiful, though.”

“Oh, my gentlemen, you flatter me, but I’m inclined to agree with Damien this time. Gold is not my color. My hair—my hair would clash,” he defends, as the others start arguing. "My skin is white as milk, yellow and I have never been friends, gold neither."

“What are you saying? Your black hair and gold were made to be."

“The dark blue streaks and the gold? My gray eyes? I’m not so sure. Gold is too bright for my image, anyway.” He stands up. “We’re going to be late.”

The others let it go. The conversation falls from Charys’ mind as the three of them finish fixing their hair and climb into a carriage with that meddling gold curling around the edges.

“Only the best for my gentlemen,” Charys says despite their protests, settling back into black leather cushions and closing his eyes for a brief moment. The moon is rising through the orange glow of Paris’ sunset and a thin layer of clouds, and the evening air is wonderfully cool.

Paris and Damien argue that Charys is treating them like always when they should be treating him, this night is about him, and Charys argues that subjecting them to his favorite play should require some compensation. They retort that to share his joy is a luxury in itself—well, Paris argues that, Damien is too shy to say it aloud.

Charys lets Paris win. His chest fills with a warmth he’s never found anywhere else.

They pull up to the theater, and everything gold drops from his head.

***

The topic doesn’t come to mind again until Charys is trying on old clothes and fitting together new ones. A rare eventless day lends them time to sort through the depths of their wardrobe and prepare for the next time they go to the theater—or to the square, or even to the bank of the river to watch Paris play in the black water. Charys would never miss an opportunity to be dressed in their finest just to go outside, if it meant being seen by other people.

The only opinions and attention that truly matter to them are those of their lovers, though. They won’t pretend otherwise.

Hanging on a wooden coat hanger are long golden robes in a similar style to their favorite black ones, the ones they have five pairs of and wear most often. The sleeves of those very robes, wide and embroidered in dark blue, fall down their arms as they pull the gold robes free.

These golden robes, however, have strips of fabric meant to trail behind them, made of a thin and shimmery fabric . A thin layer of dust coats the shoulder padding—these are surely Paris’, bought for the colder months when he actually bothers to cover his chiseled chest. Somehow it wound up in here.

Paris wears his gold and wears it well, with pride, the frequent white chitons offsetting his golden hair and the permanent tan of his skin. No one can deny he is the incarnation of golden sunsets, from their color to their warmth to their aura of simplicity and comfort. But Charys harkens back to his suggestion a few weeks ago, the delectable idea of Damien in gold, their own dismissal of how gold would look on them.

Charys hesitates with the hanger in their hand, wondering. There’s no way Damien will agree to this, but that doesn’t mean they can’t perform an experiment.

The three of them don’t have an outing planned this evening, just dinner and falling asleep in a pile on the couch, perhaps to the soft sound of Damien reading or Paris singing.

The chipping white paint on their nails, chosen by Damien, will never go with this, but that’s an easy enough matter to fix discreetly. Charys has used their free moments over their immortal existence well to teach themself very valuable skills—they haven’t messed up nail paint in years and years, and the last time was because Damien was distracting them.

They blow off the robes again, resigning themself to trying to fix the creases in the skirts before the others get home.

An hour later, as Charys is fiddling with their earrings and turning every which way in the mirror, dinner from the fish place down the black river laid out on the table, the front door begins opening.

They quickly smooth down their robes one more time and wait, hands clasped, for Paris and Damien to round the corner. The two of them are talking in low tones, followed by the unmistakable sound of Damien’s soft laugh, before his short wavy hair enters Charys’ line of sight.

“Charys, you wouldn’t believe the kind of day we’ve both had, souls thinking they were both dead when—” Damien stops in his tracks.

Paris, who was evidently expecting an answer to a question, says, “Damien?” and comes to stand beside him. “Holy River Black.”

Charys can only smile.

Paris stalks toward them, walking around them and muttering awed endearments. The pin of his own chiton has come undone, as it usually does at the end of the day, and the white trails along the floor while his glorious tan chest lays exposed.

“I know it was my suggestion, but you have no right to look this good,” Paris says, hands on his hips and attempting to glare. He can’t keep the pure wonder out of his ocean eyes, though, and his defiance dies when Charys steps toward him.

“See?” Damien says, much more composed. The hood of the coat he wears to banish the cold in the in the between is down—black today instead of the usual white—an indication he's relaxed. “The gold goes supremely with your hair and your eyes. I know you’re the expert on these things, but I think we’ve found your blind spot.”

Charys resists the urge to roll their eyes. “It’s just some clothing. I’m still me.”

Paris closes the gap between them to place his hands on Charys’ face, kissing them hard. “Don’t for a moment think we’re saying we only love you because of the outstanding things you wear.”

“That’s certainly part of the reason,” Damien says, leaning against the column holding the ceiling up with his arms crossed.

“Damien! I’m trying to tell our dear lover, who will probably look better than we ever will in anything because they actually know what the hell they’re doing, that we love them for much more than their clothes.”

Some of Charys’ burning vulnerability from all the attention vanishes. They grin. “Oh, Paris, I’m not offended in the least. My dear Damien, was that a joke?”

Damien smiles, letting it overtake his whole face the way Charys knows is rare. They take the skirts of the robes in their hands for something to do, swaying idly back and forth. The fabric may be light, but the bulky shoulders and light sleeves in the middle of this summer heat make Charys roll their shoulders to dispel some of the heat, or at least try. This just makes Paris groan.

“You look even more ethereal than always,” Paris cries. “I pity the public the day they see you like this.”

Charys shakes their head. “This is just for you.”

“Aw, Charys—”

“It would rather destroy my image if I were to be seen in anything brighter than dark green dark enough to be mistaken as black.”

Damien grins at the ceiling. Paris groans.

Charys stares at the bits of gold in Damien’s eyes and wonders. “Damien…”

Damien turns his relaxed, loose, beautiful smile to Charys, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Yes?”

Charys doesn’t say a word. Paris begins chuckling as he figures it out.

Damien is next. His smile slowly fades and he points a finger at them both. “No. I will not wear your damn robes.”

“Please, my heart,” Charys says, taking his cheek in their hands. Damien sighs and leans into their hand, kissing the tips of their gold painted fingernails. “For me? For us?” they add.

“You know you don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” Paris cuts in. “You know we would never force you into anything at all.”

Damien smiles faintly, still refusing to meet Charys’ eyes. “For you,” he mutters at last, dragging his eyes up, and the look Charys finds there makes them shiver. Only a hint of hesitation shows in the deep brown, the rest is all interest.

Charys smiles slowly. “I look forward to it.”

The moment is broken when Paris asks, “Charys, you bastard, did you get the fried fish from that fish place down the road? Damien, come on, forget about gold!”

***

The day Damien finally puts on gold is when Charys is least expecting it—though that’s rather the point, probably.

This time, it’s Charys who’s out of the house all day with the others at home. It’s a long day of comforting the usual frightened souls struggling to comprehend their status, watching older ones slowly relax into the afterlife they’re discovering is better than their life, and visiting the ones who’ve been there the longest and luxuriate.

Some days Charys is so busy with welcoming newly dead souls that he has no time for the seasoned ones, but when he does, it brings a sweet ache for home. Home lies with Damien and Paris, where Charys’ heart has taken residence equally in the depths of theirs, but he longs for the comfort of the riverside house, despite usually having left it that morning.

That’s not always a given, either—there have been many occasions where one or all of them have had to sleep in their respective places of business, and there have been days and weeks when they haven’t seen each other or the riverside house at all.

Those reunions are always sweeter than sweet, but thankfully Charys didn’t have to wait weeks to see his loves again. He only had to survive a long twelve hours in the mansion of the dead starting at the crack of dawn. Leaving the warmth of the bed and the tangle of four arms who seemed intent on making him stay was the hardest part—it always is—but now he’s back at the riverside house, letting some of his walls come down.

He pauses for a moment outside the white front door to regain the breath he’s been short on all day, letting his shoulders slouch and rolling up the sleeves on his dark robes a bit before pushing the door in.

All is silent. Perhaps the others aren’t home yet? No, Charys has a foggy memory of Paris telling him they weren’t going to work today. The three of them have assistants who are capable of handling most minor problems and the routine work of registering new souls to the afterlife and helping ones still in their life, but they all prefer to work themselves.

They are the patron of the dead, the lord of the in between, and the ambassador of the living. To leave their duties in the hands of someone else feels instinctively wrong.

Charys pushes further into the house, the wide sitting room to the right and the kitchen further beyond, around every support column, the bath chamber hidden behind a wall to the left, and when he still finds no one, he finally heads up the creaky wooden stairs. He checks their offices, the study, the little library that’s really just there for him, the empty bath chamber, and their shared bedchamber at the very end of the hallway.

Resigned to the fact that he’s the only one home, he begins unbuttoning his robes and reaching for the closet on instinct when he notices that it’s already open and a lantern is lit inside. Paris stands next to Damien, who is wearing the brightest, most delectable golden robes Charys has ever seen.

They’re not even the robes Charys wore. These are entirely different, without the puffs at the shoulders and closer in style to Paris’ beloved chitons. A crown of golden laurel sits on Damien’s hair, free of its usual oil, and when he moves Charys notices the black boots and gold laces going up to his knees.

Charys can’t speak, can’t move. He gains an appreciation for the way the two of them felt upon seeing him in his own gold. Damien is staring at him with a flush painting his cheeks, an embarrassed smile spread across his mouth. Charys swears there’s gold glitter on his cheeks, but the only way to be sure is to step closer, his plan anyway.

Paris is equally flushed, pink atop his tan skin. His head turns to see what has so captured Damien’s eye. The moment Paris clocks him, he drags Damien close by the lapels and kisses him with a clearly pent up passion. Charys is still speechless, he can only watch and feel his heart thaw and heat and melt into a molten puddle.

The love in his chest that blooms and grows for them only seems to blossom more every day. It’s the most precious thing Charys has ever had, and just getting to watch them kiss like this still makes his breath hitch after all this time, like he’s kissing them himself. Oh, what he would give to be able to give both of them that attention at once.

He finally gains control of his feet and strides toward them. He doesn’t know where to put his hands in the face of such pure beauty as Damien wrenches away from the kiss, gasping. A stronger one than Charys can resist Damien’s pink lips, wonderfully framed by the gold and brown. Charys is torn between the insatiable urge to kiss touch and the yearning curiosity to feel those boots, individual of fashion that he is.

The moment he has his composure again, he’s going to demand to know where and when Damien got this outfit, especially those boots, and also how he carried it out so secretly. He underestimates Damien’s capability for secrecy. Being the most mysterious man in three realms seems to have that effect.

“Hey, hey, let me have a turn,” Paris says, shaking Charys’ shoulder. “I was going to kiss him the moment I saw him, but he made me wait until you got home. I know it wouldn’t have been the same, but honestly, can you blame me?”

Charys wrenches himself free of Damien to point his finger and say, “You are not allowed to suggest something for any of us to wear ever again. This is what happens. Are you trying to kill me?”

“You are the patron of death, I would think you’d be well equipped—”

Charys takes his shoulders and kisses him, too, hoping he’ll feel every bit of his spite and revenge. He hates how good Damien looks. He can’t get it out of his head even as he has Paris grasping at the back of his neck, attacking him like a starving man.

The gold compliments Damien so well, he glows with it under the yellow lantern light in this closet that’s too cramped for three people to stand in.

Charys has to tear away to look at him again, especially the way the crown suits his hair. Charys has always been a sucker for Damien’s hair without oil, anyway, when his almost-curls get to be free for Charys’ fingers to run through without feeling disgusting.

He looks so much softer like that, too. People call him brooding, scary, reclusive, but only Charys and Paris get to see the smiling, eternal boy under the white hood he wears to the in between.

“You know I hate it when you fight over me,” Damien says, breathlessly.

“Oh, darling, we’re not fighting over you,” Charys says. “We’re both appreciating your majesty in our own ways.”

“It sounds like you’re fighting over who gets to appreciate me the same way first.” Damien smiles softly again, obviously still self-conscious, and Charys is really so in love he could happily die. They’ve had debates over whether he is actually dead, as patron of death.

He’d only be happy dead if he could keep these two by his side in any of their realms, though. Life, death, afterlife, he couldn’t ever do without them, no matter what color any of them are wearing.

Things like gold and Damien's hair without product and the keen glint in Paris' eye just remind Charys why he wants to share every moment of his existence with them.

aet taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @47crayons @chayscribbles @metanoiamorii @ashen-crest @doggo038

general taglist: @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @wickerring @directionoftime @47crayons @froggywriter

#writing #my writing #writeblr #fantasy #fantasy writeblr #lila's wips: aet #lila's short stories

25 notes · View notes

spahhzy · 3 years ago

Text

A Better Tomorrow-Chapter 1. Secure the keys.

Finally time to start this story.

It was a nice house, a nice little two story red brick home down nestled somewhere in the country side. A bed of flowers out front that led to a staircase out on to one of the dirt roads.

The sun that would gleam down on it gave it such a holy aesthetici too it but it is in the night, when the moon is full that you are able to truly appreciate its beauty.

Small candle lights lit up the window giving it the cozy warm feeling from the inside.

All was quiet in this little house except for one room.

"Do you have to go?" A small child's voice asked from inside this room the voice sounded sad.

"Yes...I do" came an older male voice as a sniffle could be heard.

"I know it's going to hurt now but what I do...I'm doing fo-" the older man started but was cut off.

"A better tomorrow yeah" came the child too which earned a chuckle from older man.

"Come...I'll read you your favorite story hm?" He asked and the sadness that laced the child's voice was gone. Replaced only with excitement.

"You mean the one about the eight warriors who defeated the grimm in the Great War!?" The child asked to which the older man hummed in agreement.

A creaking of a bed could be heard before boots clanked the hard wood floor.

" It began long ago...on the battlefields of the Great War..."

"If the first step doesn't happen, neither does the journey"-Craig D. Lounsbrough

Winter stared at the small strike team before her. Nothing was said in the bullhead as it flew towards the outskirts of Ansel.

-Bullhead, Journeying towards Ansel

She looked to her right to see a red head girl staring intently at a photograph, peeking over her shoulder it was a photo of six people.

A girl with black hair with red tips, silver eyes shined brightly she was smiling riding on the back the man in the photo, followed up by a blonde girl with lilacs eyes, she too was smiling as she held onto the man's left hand, she was flanked by another black haired girl with hazel eyes a bow was ties in her hair a small smile was featured on her face as well and she was close by the male rounded up by a girl with white hair, her sister, she was to the right of the male clutching his right hand a smile present on her face as well.

Finally their was the red head herself ...before finally in the center giving a big hug to everyone she could.

The man in the center had blond hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes, he gave a gentle smile to the camera as he looked content and happy.

Everyone was smiling in that photo but it was his smile that shined the most.

"When did you take that photo penny?"

The girl now revealed to as Penny looked at Winter with a sad smile.

"Before Salem attacked mantle it was a very brief moment of peace for all of us..." Penny said her voice full of sadness as she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I miss them Winter...so very much" as she turned to her general whomst gave her a look of sympathy.

"Me too Penny...but we accomplish this then we could possibly get answers" She told her to which brings some comfort to the younger red head to nod.

"General"

The Bullhead shook as Winter looked to the team.

"Its time to go over the briefing once more" said one of the soldiers said as Winter nodded.

"Right alright squad...our mission is of the utmost importance!" She told them as she stood up from her seat.

"We succeed here then we succeed for mankind!" All the soldiers nodded.

"Now the mission is to infiltrate, locate and retrieve this artifact"

She pressed a button and up popped up the Relic of Creation.

"Our Intel confirms this relic is too be located at the heart of Ansel...located at this location pricesly"

Another image this time it was a three story home.

"It is the old Arc Chateau"

A soldier raised his hand.

"Wasn't this area destroyed during the event now coined 'Destruction of Ansel'? " He looked to the rest of the squad.

"Our last reports said that it was all scorched and now only the grimm inhabit the area" he said to which Winter nodded.

"Yes you are true right since the queens attack on Ansel the grimm have been their ever since" She confirmed to him.

"So why bother with 'infiltrate' if the area is all but a breeding ground" the solider argued.

"Because me and agent Penny here will be leading a diversion to spring forth the grimm, while you, strike team, will grab the relic" Winter told them which caused chatter amongst the soldiers.

"That's a suicide mission General if what the Intel reports theirs about 2000 grimm in the surrounding area ALONE!" the soldier spoke to Winter who remained unfazed at the numbers.

"We don't know how many more are at the center guarding the staff!"

"It doesn't matter" said the voice next to Winter.

Penny looked at them all confidence radiating clearly in her eyes.

"We will succeed...we must...we must" She said to them to which got the soldiers to chatter once more.

"Gents we got the Maiden and former Maiden on our side...we can do this" a older soldier spoke out as he looked towards Winter.

"When do we jump ma'am"

Winter smirked

"One hour"

-----

Far away in a castle shrouded in darkness the queen of grimm was in a particularly good mood as she could be seen hummimg a song while looking into her crystal ball.

Tyrian while happy to see his mistress in such a joyful mood couldn't help but wonder why?

"Uh mistress not that I don't like that you are happy but why are you happy" he asked her to which she didn't acknowledge but only continued to hum the same song.

"I mean I haven't seen you this happy since when we rescued the bo-"

"Tyrian"

That shut him up quickly as Salem looked up from her crystal ball at him.

"Yes mistress?" He asked obediently.

"Take a Bullhead to Ansel it seems we have...unwelcomed guests coming" She told him to which Tyrian growled at such rudeness! who would dare!?

"And do what when I find these rude fiends?" He asked to which Salem flashed a smile at him.

"Nothing"

Baffled, he asked.

"Nothing Mistress?" He asked not understanding.

" that is correct...some one will be handling our little guests himself" She told him which only further confused him as he let the information sit and sit and sit.

Before suddenly realization hit his face and an twisted smile made its way to his face as he lept out of his chair in joy.

"Right away mistress!" He said before running out to do his task set before him.

Salem smiled as she looked back into the crystal ball.

---

A terrifying roar filled the skies as up in the clouds a dragon whose size rivaled that of Beacon academy and whose scales were the darkest of night, it's red eyes glowed blood red as it traveled at break neck speeds.

As the monster sped through the blue sky a figure could be seen riding on its back.

The figure stroked the dragons sides before the dragon let out another roar before going even faster.

-----

After the briefing was over, every one was going over the final preparations.

Strike team will be dropped four hundred kilometers away from Ansel right outside the dubbed 'exclusion' zone and will proceed to Ansel on foot.

Meanwhile once within two hundred kilometers General Winter and Agent Penny will leave the ship, Winter will cause a distraction in the air and Penny will provide the assault on the ground.

The two will reconvene where the old Arc Chateau used to be and defend thst position.

Strike team would be on-site and should be looking for the package.

The Intel states the old building was destroyed from the blast but ever since the grimm begun inhabiting they had started rebuilding it for its own end.

The package is located on the third floor second room to the left. That room if what the data shows used to belong to occupant one Jaune Arc.

Previous data collected shows that the staff could act as a power source so extrema caution is advised upon removing the relic.

It is not know how many or what kind of grimm exactly could be here but precaution is needed.

"Captain may I speak?" Asked a soldier to which the Captain nodded.

"What do we do if...he were to show up" Asked the soldier to which the rest of the group just looked at him.

"Listen gents imma say this once and only once do NOT let him get within arms reach of you" He told them grimly.

"If he so much as gets within hands reach of you do whatever you can to separate yourself from him...if you don't your dead" he said to which earned some gulps from the soldiers.

"The reports said that monster can literally use our own aura against us...i-is that true?" Said the soldier asked to which the captain just stared at him before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"All the more reason to keep a distance aye?" Before walking past him towards the hangar door.

"Squad this is it...this is where we fight to secure hope!" Which elicited a cheer from the group.

A buzzer sounded and all of a sudden the doors open as air rushed in.

The captain looked to Winter whomst nodded as he gave her a salute before jumping out of the Bullhead the rest of his squad following suit.

Winter looked behind her as she saw Penny looking at the photo once more before giving it a kiss five times and tucking it away.

"You ready Penny?" She asked as she held out her hand to which Penny gave a bright smile.

"I am one hundred percent combat ready!"

She grabbed Winters hand.

"Genreal you are clear for drop!"

Penny and Winter nodded to each other and looked out to the sea of clouds before them before them.

"See you on the battlefield" Penny said and Winter nodded before finally the two took a great leap forward.

#jaune arc #ruby rose #winter schnee #weiss schnee #rwby salem #rwby tyrian #blake bellodona #yang xiao long #penny polendina

9 notes · View notes

majesty-madness · 4 years ago

Text

An Outlaw’s Better Half (Arthur Morgan x reader series)

https://giphy.com/gifs/rockstargames-revolver-rdr2-reddead-5WIMcQNeu6TWoIrkfB

Summary: Y/N lost her only friends to a gang of thugs, who murdered them all. With nowhere to go, she wanders the streets only to be met with a certain cowboy. After saving her life, Arthur brings her back to camp and everyone is very welcoming. Y/N begins to think maybe this could be her new family, a real family, but how will she react when she learns that the gang that welcomed her with opens arms, steals and kills to get by?

Chapter One

Word Count: 4000+

Warning: Angst, violence and murder, blood, cursing

Violence wasn’t something that she hadn’t experienced in all of her life of living. It was everywhere and sometimes a necessity if you wanted to survive.

There were times when she had actually used brute force to get away from a sticky situation but it wasn’t until afterward that the events would truly dawn on her. Though she never dwelled on it for long. As long as she made it out alive, that’s all that mattered.

Y/N had recently settled about a mile away from the town of Valentine, the spot was hidden by massive trees and overgrown bushes.

She wasn’t alone, a few other individuals had joined her or rather she joined them. They were a relatively small camp with only ten people. Not at all capable of taking on a whole gang by themselves but strong enough to survive.

Y/N was patching up a ripped hole in a thin quilt of hers when a woman in her mid forties, walked up to her.

“Need any help with that?” She kindly asked, taking a seat next to the young (h/c).

Y/N smiled, “No thanks, Isabelle. I think I can handle it this time. Besides, I’m not sure how you could help me with sewing anyway.”

“I could hold it for you.” Isabelle replied.

The (h/c) abruptly stopped what she was doing and plopped her hands in her lap. “Hold it?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.

“What? I meant like keep it still for ya, that’s all.” Isabelle defended. She gestured to the blue quilt in Y/N’s lap.

Y/N let out an airy laugh, her body convulsing harshly. “Thanks but I’ve got it.” She wiped her teary eyes and continued to sew.

The older woman playfully scowled. “Alright, fine. Don’t come crying to me when you forget how to tie off the ‘nd.”

“That was one time!” Y/N jabbed back, an amused smile still plastered to her face.

There was a moment of silence, different members of the small group attending to their own chores or activities, and Y/N just remained sitting on a log that sat only two feet from her tent. Then the familiar ear shattering noise caused Y/N and Isabelle to jump up from their seats.

Other members' attention had also been directed toward the sound of the noise. But before they knew what hit them, men on horses were charging straight for them.

Y/N’s small group of people tried to retaliate but were far too late and lacked better aim.

She and Isabelle were attempting to escape when Isabelle caught a bullet to the back and crashed into the young (h/c), sending them both to go tumbling to the dirt ground.

With the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Y/N’s legs were tempted to pull her body back up and push her to start running the opposite direction but her mind quickly came to a conclusion that made every muscle in her body freeze.

If she did try to run then she would surely be killed on the spot so she did what she thought would at least give her a chance to survive. Nothing.

She laid still, right where she had fallen, and closed her eyes. Waiting. Praying that whoever was there would just go away. Especially when she heard the gunslinging gang argue with one another.

“Why did you shoot all the women?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” One man yelled.

“What’cha you talkin ‘bout?” Another man snapped back.

“We could’ve brought’em back to camp, had a good time with them but no! You had to go in guns blazing and now they're all dead!”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at this bit of information. She silently thanked the universe for giving her the wisdom to play dead.

“Oh shut up, you drunken bastard.” The one man grumbled, taking heavy footsteps away from where Y/N was lying.

Hours past. Late morning turned to early evening. The sun was beginning its descent and not once had Y/N moved from her initial position, keeping as still as her body would allow. On several occasions though, she wished she could sink into the ground below and use mother earth as her protective shell when the men wandered particularly close.

And as if the universe was answering her silent pleas, the sound of gravel and dirt crunching under someone’s footsteps shattered the silent air. “We gotta go guys! The law is gonna be on top of us!”

“Damn it! Let’s go boys!” Another man, assumingly their leader, said breaking into a full sprint to his horse.

The way the hooves of their horses made contact with the ground, it was obvious that they were leaving quickly, not sparing another glance back on the camp they’d destroyed only hours ago.

Y/N waited a few minutes just to make sure that they were really actually gone.

When she could only hear the sound of the wind rushing through the trees, she wiggled herself free from the cold, dead grasp of what once was a kind older lady.

She crawled across the ground, her body becoming covered in mud. A few grunts and groans of excursion left her mouth, and eventually she flopped down on her back when finally free.

All was silent. Not a word was spoken. Not a single animal call could be heard. Just the wind, blowing softly through nature’s livelihood.

It was an absolute nightmare.

The silence felt like a hot knife in her chest, burning and suffocating. She was left to rewind to the events of what had happened.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she quietly cried to herself.

Was she crying for her group or for herself? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was, once again, on her own.

__________

It was night by now and the moon was in full bloom.

Arthur and John were making their way back to camp after finding out a tip they’d heard about in a saloon turned out to be a bust.

Should have known better than to listen to a drunken idiot.

“Got any idea where we can start looking for another score?” John asked, his eyes darting to the back of Arthur’s head.

Arthur shrugged. “I ain’t got a clue. But I’ll head back into town tomorrow, see if there mighta been something we missed.”

“Let me know if you hear about anything.” John replied as he and Arthur continued to make their way down the dirt road.

Arthur nodded. “I will.”

Recently, they haven't had any luck getting any money. Yeah, there was the few occasional stagecoach robberies and such but nothing that could help them move the whole camp somewhere no one would find them. That would require more money than they were able to get.

They needed to leave and soon or else things were gonna end badly for them.

“Get the hell away from me!”

Both Arthur and John raised their heads at the sound of a woman shouting.

About ten feet in front of them stood a group of men, completely surrounding a young lady.

“Stay back!” The woman fearfully hissed, holding up her knife so as to give the impression that she wasn’t afraid but anyone could tell otherwise. Especially these arrogant bastards.

“Oh come on, we just want to have a little fun.” One man smirked, licking his lips with lust coating his eyes.

He reached out to take the woman’s arm and as soon as his hand made contact, she pulled him towards her and jammed her knife deep into his throat.

The man stumbled back as he gurgled on his own blood, eventually flopping down onto the dirt ground. The rest of the group of men stared at their dying friend.

John and Arthur watched as the events unfolded, hands pressed to their revolvers just in case things were going to get messy.

“You’re gonna pay for that bitch!” Another man yelled, pulling out a gun from his holster.

However, before he could even wrap his hands around the handle, another loud boom echoed in the air.

The loud gunshot caused everyone to turn to the origin of the noise.

There sat Arthur, revolver in hand, and a thin trail of smoke seeping from the tip of the steel barrel.

“Any of you think of reaching for your guns, I’ll put a bullet in ya.” Arthur said, his voice low in tone and VERY intimidating.

He didn’t have to tell the group of men twice as they quickly scurried away.

Arthur set his revolver back into his holster and hopped off his horse.

When the young woman caught sight of the mass of the brown haired, blue eyed cowboy approaching her, she pointed her now bloody knife toward Arthur.

“Whoa there, ma’am.” Arthur immediately raised his hands up in surrender. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Heavy pants slipped past the lady’s pink lips as well as a few pained whimpers. She was dreadfully scared but based on her demeanor she was not going to let someone threaten her without a fight.

Though Arthur decided he might press his luck.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked with some variation of concern but readied himself in case the lady tried to attack him.

She hesitated but eventually shook her head. Arthur looked back to John and he only shrugged.

The cowboy took another step forward. “Are you alone?”

The lady’s eyes darted to the ground, her quivering lips and watery eyes telling Arthur all that he needed to know.

Even though she hadn’t said anything, it was obvious that this poor, fearful woman had been through some kind of trauma.

Arthur’s eyes squinted in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

The lady looked back up, her expression softening just a bit.

“You’re bleeding…” He pointed to the blood dripping from her temple then again looked back at John to see if maybe he thought there was something wrong. Though, he didn’t seem bothered by it all, in fact, he nodded his head knowing what Arthur was insinuating.

“If you want, you…” Arthur paused. “You could come with us, we’ve got some other women back at our camp that can help you get cleaned up.”

“How-” The woman finally spoke. This perked Arthur’s attention. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I saved your life. And if I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

Arthur could see the gears turning in her head as she thought through her options. Stay to die alone or get some help from a couple of cowboys? She chose the latter.

She slid her bloody knife back into her sheath and nodded. “Okay.”

Arthur gestured towards his horse that was waiting next to John, and the young lady followed behind him. She kept a considerable distance away from the man that saved her just in case he was going to try something.

He stepped up onto his saddle, pulled himself up, and swung his leg to rest on the other side then held out his hand for the lady to take.

She grasped his hand in her own and used her own strength to help Arthur lift her up on his horse. She sat side saddle, her hands resting on Arthur’s broad shoulders. It would be weird if she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Or at least she thought so.

The three individuals made their way back to camp. For the rest of the trip, no one said a word. Instead there was silence except for the occasional animal calls which Y/N made sure to admire as her mind wandered into the abyss.

From this point on, she had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her next.

Either she was actually going to get help from these strangers, get killed, or…

Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want to think of what they were capable of doing to her. Terrible things she imagined. However, even though she didn’t know these people there was this gut feeling, an instinct, telling her that maybe, just maybe they were trustworthy.

After all, this man saved her life. Anyone else would have walked by, without so much as batting an eye but not him. He saw she was in trouble and came to her aid.

Suppose there was still some good left in the world.

Arthur and John approached the edge of camp, their horses trotting towards Charles who was guarding the camp this particular night.

“Arthur. John” Charles greeted.

His eyes then wandered to the young lady seated behind Arthur. She quickly looked away from his intimidating stare. “Who’s that?”

“Someone we picked up coming back to camp.” John answered, still following behind Arthur.

Arthur hitched his horse and hopped off. He turned to Y/N and held out his arms toward her to help her off the back of his horse.

She looked down at his hands, a perplexed expression bent into her features.

Arthur bobbed his hands up and down for a second before saying, “Come on.”

Y/N hesitantly leaned forward and rested her hands on Arthur’s shoulders as he lifted her from the horse and placed her on the ground.

“This way.” Arthur said, leading Y/N towards the center of camp.

Her eyes darted around the makeshift camp, searching for anyone she’d consider friendly. Not many of them looked all that amicable but she did see some woman which she wasn’t sure that relieved her in some way or made her even more skeptical.

Though when members of the group began to form a crowd around her and Arthur, that small relief soon vanished.

“Ah, Arthur.” Dutch greeted him as soon as the stocky cowboy came into his vision. “How’re things in Valentine?”

Arthur scratched at his stubble, “Not so good. Turns out the leads were nothin’ but rumors.”

“We’ll just have to keep looking.” Dutch said and Arthur nodded in agreement.

Just then Dutch caught sight of the young lady timidly standing behind Arthur’s towering figure.

“And who is this young lady?” Dutch said strutting around Arthur to see Y/N more clearly.

Y/N’s (e/c) orbs flashed up to meet Dutch’s gaze and she found herself stepping closer to Arthur.

“This is… uh...well actually, we don’t know her name but we found her on the main road, a few men were becoming little less than friendly.”

Dutch welcomed Y/N with a smile. “Well, miss…” He paused, waiting for her to respond.

Y/N gulped, fiddling with her shaking hands. “L/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Well Miss. L/N, you are welcome to stay here with us for as long as you need.” Dutch then looked over to the girls that had conveniently gathered together. “Miss. Grimshaw. Abigail. Get Miss. L/N cleaned up and a fresh pair of clothes will ya?”

Miss. Grimshaw and Abigail nodded then stepped forward and guided Y/N away from the crowd.

Y/N let them lead her away but not before she turned her head to look over her shoulder to Arthur, getting one last glance at his blue eyes as she walked further away.

For some reason, she felt she would rather not leave him but did anyhow.

“Come this way, honey.” Miss. Grimshaw said, pulling Y/N towards Abigail’s tent.

They stepped inside the tent along with Mary-Beth and Tilly following suit.

Miss. Grimshaw turned to Mary-Beth, “Go get some water and clean rag.” She ordered.

Mary-Beth nodded and headed out of the tent.

Miss. Grimshaw turned her attention back to the young (h/c) standing patiently in the middle of the large tent. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes.” She reached out to help her but Y/N instinctively flinched away, startling everyone remaining in the tent.

They all stood with their eyes on Y/N’s stiff form. She seemed as if she were prepared for someone to attack her.

Abigail stepped just a tad bit closer. “It’s okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya. We just want to help.” The burnette reassured.

Y/N’s eyes darted from Abigail, to Miss. Grimshaw, to Tilly then back to Abigail again.

After a minute or two of waiting, the three women could visibly see the (h/c)’s body relax as she rested her arms at her sides.

“Abigail, get Miss. L/N some clean clothes. Looks like she’s ‘bout your size.” She said and Abigail agreed, walking over to a corner in the tent and beginning to rummage through her clothes to find something decent for the young (h/c) to wear.

Mary-Beth then walked in with a cool bowl of water, and a clean rag sticking out from the edge of the metal. She stood next to Grimshaw, a soft expression on her face as she made eye contact with Y/N.

Grimshaw grabbed the rag from the metal bowl and rang out the extra water the rag had soaked up over the course of the time it sat in the bowl.

When it was damp enough to her liking, she stepped toward Y/N and very gently placed one hand under Y/N’s chin to keep her head still while she wiped away the dried blood that lay against her temple.

Even though Grimshaw was usually a hard ass, she handled the scared woman with care, almost as if she were made of glass. Fragile to the touch. Which surprisingly comforted Y/N, they were much kinder than originally anticipated.

Once the blood was wiped clean, Grimshaw tossed the now blood covered rag back into the metal bowl. “Alright. You’re all good. Just get changed into some fresh clothes and bring these ones out. We’ll make sure to wash’em for ya.” Grimshaw said, gesturing to her dirt covered skirt and shirt.

Abigail walked back over, neatly folded clothing in her hands. “Here ya go.”

Y/N cautiously extended her arms to take the clothes from Abigail. “T-thank you.” she mumbled scarcely, her lips pressing into a tight line.

She wasn’t sure what to make of what was happening.

Most people weren’t so kind, and selfless. Not that she didn’t appreciate what they were doing for her because she did very much so, but why go out of their way just to help some stranger that, for all they know, could be a threat?

Guess they were willing to take that chance.

“Go on, get changed. We’ll give ya some privacy.” Grimshaw stated hurriedly gesturing for the rest of the girls to exit said tent, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.

It was a good few minutes before Y/N even thought about moving and proceeding with swapping out her clothes.

The older lady was right, she was the same size as the burnette.

There was no mirror around to check out her appearance so she just had to hope that she didn’t look too ridiculous, not that it really mattered.

She approached the edge of the tent. Her nerves getting the better of her.

What would happen once she stepped out of the confines of the tent. Nothing? Her worst nightmare?

Arthur’s words rang through her head. “If I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

If these people went as far as to clean her, bring her clothes, and overall help her then maybe they could be trusted.

Y/N closed her eyes. “Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out” She took a deep breathe then let it out in an attempt to calm her nerves.

When she stepped away from the makeshift home, Y/N immediately saw that a few men had grouped together and were discussing amongst themselves.

It was hard to tell what they were saying at first but in curiosity, she stepped closer and was able to make out what they were saying.

“We’ve got to let the girl go.” Micah said.

“We can’t just throw her out.” John intervened, annoyance palpable in his voice.

“She’s a stranger. And a threat to all of us.” Micah continued.

Arthur scoffed. “Didn’t realize you were so concerned for the rest of us.”

“I’m only thinking about the group.” Micah defended, his tone hiding some ulterior motive.

A pang of sadness rushed through Y/N as she listened in on what they were saying.

Micah continued. “I say we send the girl on her way.”

“No. I think we should let her stay with us and if she wants to leave then-” Dutch stopped when he caught sight of Y/N who was standing a few feet away.

The other men followed Dutch’s gaze, seeing that the damsel in distress had been standing right there, most likely listening in on what they were discussing.

Y/N’s expression told them all they needed to know. Her brows furrowed inward, not in anger but in sadness. Her (e/c) eyes held a thousand words, and her slightly parted mouth emphasized how she felt.

“I-”

“There you are, honey. Let me take those-” Miss. Grimshaw interrupted, causing Y/N to look at her then she took a hold of Y/N’s dirty clothes. “And let’s go find you somewhere to sleep.” She continued, and quickly guided Y/N away from the men.

As Miss. Grimshaw led Y/N away from the group of men, she caught a glimpse of that saddened expression making a home into Y/N’s features.

“Oh honey, don’t you worry ‘bout Mr.Bell. He says a lot of things but he’s all talk.”

“But he’s right; I am a stranger.” Y/N objected earnestly.

Miss. Grimshaw quickly pulled Y/N over toward a propped up tent. “Listen to me; you might be a stranger but don’t mean you ain’t decent.”

Her answer surprised the young (h/c).

The elderly woman continued. “You needed help, and we took upon ourselves to help you. Now don’t go worrying about things that ain’t gonna happen.”

Miss Grimshaw turned away grabbing an extra blanket from the back of one of the wagons then turned back and plopped it into Y/N’s arms.

“Now you’re gonna sleep right next to Mary-Beth.” The older woman spoke as she led Y/N over to a pitched tent in the center of camp.

Y/N assumed that Mary-Beth was the one already standing under the tarp that was the roof of the tent.

As soon as Grimshaw was near Mary-Beth, she started to rapidly swat her waves toward her signifying she wanted her to move over.

“Scooch over! We need to make room for Ms. L/N.”

The brunette quickly grabbed the edge of her sleeping bag and scooted over just a few inches.

“There you go, honey.” Miss Grimshaw said, looking to the (h/c).

Y/N perked up and slowly walked over to the now vacant spot and stood there for a second.

Miss Grimshaw continued. “Now lie down, get some rest, and I’m sure things will look better in the morning.” And just like that she walked away and out of sight.

The young female merely stood frozen in her spot, letting the events from the day sink in. Before she could protest, hot tears fell from the base of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Mary-Beth could notice the change in aura around this young lady, and lightly rested her hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

A sniffle was heard causing a wave of sympathy to rush over Mary-Beth. She stepped out from behind the young woman to see her face. The tears were the first thing she saw even in the black ridden night.

“Here.” Mary-Beth dug into the pocket sewn into the front of her dress and pulled out a sparkling, clean, white handkerchief.

Y/N gently took the handkerchief out of Mary-Beth’s hand and used it to wipe the continuous tears. “I’m sorry…” She whimpered her voice cracking in the midst of her apology.

Mary-Beth managed a light hearted smile. “Sorry for what? For crying? You got nothing to be sorry for. It’s alright to cry when you’re hurting.” Mary-Beth paused. “I know we don’t know you very well and we don’t know what you’ve been through, but it’s gonna be okay. You’ll be safe with us.”

Y/N looked up at Mary-Beth and saw the genuinity in her eyes.

She wiped her eyes once more before handing the handkerchief back with a nod following soon after. “Okay…”

The brunette flashed a smile again as she took her handkerchief and stowed back it into her pocket.

Y/N turned around and backed away from her designated spot to roll out her sleeping bag. Right now, more than anything, she just wanted to get to bed, though she wasn’t sure that she would be able to sleep. Not when she was in a strange place with strange people, but she could at least try.

She laid down to cover herself up with the thin fabric to hopefully fall into a peaceful slumber.

Despite the trauma, Y/N allowed her thoughts to linger on those of her fallen friends.

They were good, and hard working people trying to make an honest living.

Trying to survive. Same as her. They didn’t deserve being shot down by a bunch of two bit thugs who cared about nothing but their own desires.

Though, that was the world they lived in. Life and death go hand and hand and sometimes it was just a person’s time to go even if it was in a brutal fashion or even if it was unfair.

Most times it was.

______

Series Masterlist

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

55 notes · View notes

bow-woahh · 4 years ago

Note

If you’re still doing the game, chapter 6 from the grocery store onward?

Send me your favorite scene/chapter from one of my works and I’ll post a DVD commentary on it.

ask and you shall receive!

Little bit of background info, this chapter is obviously part one of two, chapter six being it's better if I calm down, and chapter 7 being the rest of the line: it's better if I lash out. If you listened to the song full stop, you might have already known that lmao

I felt like these two chapters worked well being split into two parts (I mean imagine how long it would have been if it wasn't ... like no thank you) because of the overarching themes across them and most importantly, the plot line with her mom and the readers not knowing what's putting her on edge in chapter 6. It was so much fun to play around with and hint that there was clearly something bothering her. I think in my outline, before I found the official title this chapter was called "calm before the storm" because that truly is what it is, there's a lot of nice, fun moments, but it's clear there is something bad on the way.

Anyway, tangent over, commentary time!

They caught a bus to get to the closest grocery store, which was still a twenty minute journey away, so Catra ignored Diego for most of the ride, listening to music and texting Adora.

When I was originally outlining chapters and everything, the grocery scene wasn't planned in to this chapter (I just love giving myself more to do). I have a section in my outline document where it's kinda just a thought dump of things I want to happen possibly at some point, because I think it'd be cool or cute or whatever. This was one of those instances, and because this chapter felt a bit bare bones at first (the final product was not in the slightest) I added this in as it felt like a great way to introduce Adora and Diego and since Catra and Adora are still fairly early in their relationship here, it just worked so well, because they truly didn't expect to see each other.

“Hey, hi! I knew you said you were going shopping, but I didn’t think—well I guess it does make sense since you live in Alwyn but—”

Okay, time for context no one asked for! Bright Moon is the city they are in (obviously) and Frighton (the Fright Zone) is the neighbouring city. Bright Moon is kinda split into lower city, upper city and mid/center city (guess which kinda classes live where). Alwyn and Elberon (where Catra and Adora live respectively) are more lower city, so they are typically where poorer people live, though there are some nice places there I'm sure. Just not many.

Adora said, “Loser? Nah, Catra’s actually super cool, trust me.” She looked at Adora, properly, for the first time in a few minutes, and found her staring back at her with a fond smile.

Adora's piss poor attempt at flirting. Jk, but I do think this moment is v cute and I just love how Adora defended Catra, even though it's just her younger cousin being stupid. We love to see it.

Once again Diego beat her to it, opening the door and saying, “Sure!” before jumping out and slamming it shut.

[Context for this line: Adora asked if they needed help taking the bags out of her truck.] Honestly, Diego's really cute here. He really admires Adora and looks up to her so he's taking every possible opportunity to talk to her, and be around her.

“You know you could've left, like, ages ago, right Grayskull?"

“Yeah well,” Adora did that little shrug she always did. “I didn't mind.”

Narrowing her eyes for a moment, Catra said slowly, “Alright. Well, you can go now. And I should probably head in.”

She turned to go inside, when Adora grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

Ahhh I love this whole section of dialogue so I had to talk about it. These two are just... useless. What I love about them, and writing them in specifically this, is the constant push and pull with them, how they can never just explicitly say whar they want, either in fear they'll be judged and rejected or because they don't even fully understand what they want to begin with. With Catra and Adora, as much as one can say something like "You should go" the other will always hesitate to, will always have something at the tip of their tongue that they're not quite saying, or like here, will literally tell them to stay, using words or otherwise. They want each other but aren't quite ready to admit it yet. And I just think that's beautiful.

Also the grabbing of the wrist and the "Wait"? Pretty sure that was an accidental reference to the "stay" scene in Taking Control but it's so ingrained into my brain I'm sure it was subconscious.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

This line is just so... teenage romance vibes and I love it

Even though they had been talking nonstop for days now, and had seen each other just the other day, there was a palpable tension in the air, one that Catra wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with.

The said tension was definitely more on Adora's end than Catra's, because obviously, Catra is still hiding things (or more accurately, just not sharing them) and although Adora wants to pretend to be fine with it, the closer she gets, the more she wants to know what the truth is, she doesn't want to listen to the lies and rumours anymore.

Adora studied her face for a moment, before saying carefully, “Well, I, uh, have a ton of old gear I’ve been meaning to get rid of, but maybe you could ask him if he wants it? It’d be a good start.”

Catra hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I'm sure he'd like that. I'll, uh, see what he says and get back to you.”

“Great!” Adora beamed.

Another little moment I love because Adora is just so considerate here and understands that Catra doesn't want to delve into things like money issues. She also gets Catra isn't one to accept handouts but the way she puts it isn't ‘let me help you out’ but more ‘you'd be doing me a favour’. Adora understands how she feels. She gets it.

“Why did he think you were texting your ‘boyfriend’ by the way?” Adora asked, and Catra felt her heart drop to her stomach. She hadn’t thought Adora had been paying attention to what Diego said (arguably nobody should ever pay attention to anything he says, ever) but of course she had, because once again, Catra had underestimated Adora’s observational skills.

“Because he's a stupid kid who doesn't know what he's talking about.”

Honestly Diego isn't that far from the truth he just needs to turn that 'boy' in boyfriend to girl.

Also the fact Adora is asking about this.... interesting. Catra's answer.....very defensive and also interesting. Once again they're so many unspoken words and subtext layered in all of this. It's like a tiered cake.

“That? Oh, nah. I don't—it's not really any of her business, y'know?” Catra replied, staring just past Adora’s shoulder.

Catra is replying to Adora asking whether or not Serenia knows she's a lesbian and, well, obviously what she said wasn't true. Well it was, technically, but she's ommiting the real reason. As I've already at least slightly portrayed, Catra has a complicated relationship with her sexuality, and I don't want to spoil it but that will definitely be explored more in the future, and Serenia definitely plays a part in it, being her guardian after all.

“I guess it was always kind of obvious. I never looked at guys the same way I look at girls—my first crush was some girl in like elementary, although I didn't realise at the time, and they just continued from there. I thought all girls had crushes on other girls at some point, that wishing I was a guy so I could be with them was what everyone did. When I realised they didn't, that it was weird, I spent all my time convincing myself I just wanted to be my celebrity crush and not be with them, until I actually kissed a girl for the first time. Then I couldn't exactly ignore it. I still tried to though. Especially when—well yeah, I tried to deny it for a while. But then, I guess I got tired. Of lying to myself.”

This whole paragraph is just... yes. No one has ever asked Catra how she knew, but more importantly, Catra has never wanted to answer this question, and if it were anyone else asking, she would have definitely shut it down, or answered with something short and simple. It's because it's Adora, and because she's growing more comfortable with her, to the point where she doesn't mind, even wants to share these types of details about herself. That vulnerability is even more important in chapter 7, so this was a stepping stone of sorts for her.

“So, uh, how about you? Not that I’m saying that you’re—but since you asked…” She cursed at herself internally when Adora's expression morphed into one of surprise, eyes slightly widening.

“Oh, me? I, um—I don't really know. Is that weird? I just haven't ever really thought too much about it. I guess my main priorities are school, lacrosse, and work.”

God, it's in moments like these where I wish I wrote from Adora's perspective as well. Because there's a lot to unpack here. She's not lying when she says this, I do think this is partially how she feels. But, some could argue it's so obvious how much she likes Catra, and she's definitely admired some women before. So. I'll leave it at that because otherwise I'll say too much.

Quickly though, back to the what I said about writing in Adora's perspective... saying this here and here only because I don't know if it'll happen but I did have an idea to make a sequel of sorts, from her perspective. But, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

The smooth stream had been interrupted once Adora had asked if Catra's had any plans next week, with Halloween coming up. The relaxed, open demeanor that Adora had seen for the past few hours had almost instantly closed up again, and she could hardly focus on what Adora was saying anymore.

Now that Chapter 7 is out, why she reacted this way obviously makes a lot of sense, but to add more of a commentary to it, as we saw throughout this chapter she was trying her best to ignore her emotions about her mom's death anniversary because for once things were going well and therefore she had other things to focus on. Adora mentioning Halloween forced Catra to acknowledge it, along with the memories that come with her mothers death.

“Promise you won't ditch me?”

“I, Adora Grayskull, promise not to ditch you,” she said, hand on heart.

We love a good promise cameo.

“Did you really get kicked out? Of Horde High?”

Catra should have been expecting this to come up once again. It was bound to. With all the rumours. Especially when Sparkles seemed to be a fan with how she brought it up on Sunday.

I've already talked a bit about the rumours and how they arose in my chap 1 commentary, but really I wanted to talk about Glimmer here, since her scene was before the grocery scene and I have a lot to say about this one. Initially when I wrote it, the scene was a fairly quick altercation that kinda lacked a real punch, but after spending a little more time on it after my beta pointed some things out...it hit hard. I know there is a fuck Glimmer train at the moment because, yeah, Glimmer is pretty mean in that scene. And other scenes. I don't know why I love writing Glimmer as her S4 self so much, but it's fun to play around with okay? I like how she can take on an almost antagonistic role at times.

Glimmer thinks what she is doing is to the benefit of her own friend, by pointing out all of Catra's faults and the fact that she's from the Horde, but I also think there's a little jealousy there. No Glimmer doesn't like Adora, but she is quite a possessive friend, so I can't imagine she likes the fact Adora is spending so much time with someone she doesn't know, and to add to it, she's got the worst reputation in the school. So.

Catra thought back to the moment, and remembered what had provoked it, all the way back in eighth grade. “Yeah. I'd say they did.”

Exclusive for Tumblr gang only, but yes they did on fact deserve it because they called Catra the d-slur. This was during a time where she was really struggling with her sexuality so at the time, this cut deep.

As Catra lay in bed that night, she found her mind wandering back to Adora's handshake, how they had held on for just a little too long, mismatched eyes staring into blue ones. How such a casual touch had brought back that burning sensation, that need to be closer.

Ah...the handshake. There is literally no other reason for this other than the fact they are gay. This chapter along with the next are especially important for their development physically—they get a lot more comfortable touching each other in passing but at the same time they still have to find a reason to touch each other (hence the handshake). Either way, it helps break another barrier in their relationship, and this is even moreso the case in chapter 7. I don't know if you noticed, but that chapter is full of small touches and more, but they couldn't have gotten there if it wasn't for the little steps along the way.

Boy that was a long one! I hope you guys enjoyed this, I know I said chap 8 would be out soon but schools really kicking my ass, trying to find a balance is hard. Nevertheless, it will be out asap, I appreciate your patience! (:

#spop #catradora #micah answering asks #bloom #bloom asks #asks and answers #send anons #ty anon #again #this was fun

6 notes · View notes

tisfan · 5 years ago

Text

Tony Stark Bingo, Card 2

Title: I Want To Be (Under the Sea) Square: S2 - Merpeople Warning: none Pairing: Tony/Bucky Summary: Tony and Bucky wake up after the morning of their mating to discover… they have a problem Word Count: 780 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090523/chapters/47330740

For @tonystarkbingo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090523 An Octopus’s Garden Continuation of the Prince and the gift one, for @monobuu

“Prince Anthony,” the squeaky little seahorse girl was saying from outside the small cavern where Bucky had consummated -- quite thoroughly, too -- his unorthodox mating with said prince in question.

“What?” Tony stretched his tail out to full extension before pulling himself upright. “Pepper, it’s too early, and it’s my honeymoon. I’m supposed to be left alone.”

“Well, not entirely alone,” Bucky said. The octomer was lounging on one side of Tony’s seaweed bed, his eyes large and bright and decidedly giving him a get back here sort of look. For someone who didn’t know what mates did the day before, Bucky was inventive, tender, and had a truly ridiculous amount of stamina. Tony wasn’t going to be able to swim straight for weeks.

Tony was, in fact, rather smitten with his new mate. Grumpy octomer that he was, Bucky was also adorable, socially aware, and his very existence pissed Howard off to no end. He’d had a really great present, too. Wealthy and a good provider. Everything the prince’s consort was supposed to be.

Well, except that he was a ceph and not a mer. Howard was probably going to have lots to say about that, except what could he do? Tony was the prince, Tony was allowed to choose his own mate. No matter if he was a ceph or missing a few limbs or anything like that. He brought a present.

“Tony, let me in,” Pepper squeaked. “I need to talk--”

Tony rolled the stone away. “What, Pep?”

“The Grand School has convened about your most irregular mating,” Pepper squeaked. “I happened to hear about it, and now I’m not telling you about it, but if you don’t want your mate drawn up on charges, you might want to get there, right now.”

“Charges? What charges?”

“Unlawful mating,” Pepper said. “Trespassing on castle grounds. I don’t know, just go, Tony!”

Pepper zipped away.

“Stupid mers,” Bucky said, and Tony didn’t exactly not agree with him. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Tony curled himself onto his bed of seaweed and let his mate embrace him, pulling him closer with several puckery limbs. “I can see a few options,” Tony said, slowly. “First, we go to the Grand School and present our case.”

Bucky held up his human hand. “Okay, that’s one option,” he said. “You know mers better’n I do. Cephs just do what they’re told. What’ll happen?”

“Best guess? Us showing up to defend our mating will give them something to argue about. Mers love to argue. They like to talk to hear themselves speak--”

“Sounds familiar,” Bucky muttered.

That wasn’t even worth answering, but Tony gave him a quick smile. “--and they’ll debate something endlessly, long after the arguments mean anything. We go to the Grand School, chances are good our mating will be declared null until the issue of legality settles. Which it won’t, because my father doesn’t want it to. Maybe, after he dies, I can settle it. But in the meanwhile, you won’t be recognized as my mate by anyone except me. Which can get awkward. Might even end up with a double mate, if Howard decides to be that much of a sea urchin about the whole thing.”

“That’s all kinda non-ideal,” Bucky said. “Next option.”

“Why am I the one who has to come up with all the plans?” Tony wondered.

“Well, my plan is we run away to my home, and kill anyone who tries to stop us,” Bucky said with a multi-armed shrug. “You mers aren’t fighters, otherwise why get the cephs to die in your place? And no ceph worth his salt would give us up. The mers stay out of our territories, it’s part of the treaties.”

Tony didn’t bother to mention that most mers were capable of fighting, if they had to. They just hadn’t… been required to do so. And the non-aggression treaty was because nothing the cephs had was… in the minds of most mers, worth taking.

“It has merit,” Tony said, slowly. “Not the killing people part. But… I’ve often discovered that just doing what I want and not acknowledging other people’s interference tends to work.”

“Huh?”

“Why don’t we go on vacation? We can have our honeymoon at your place,” Tony suggested. “And then, we’ll give it a moon cycle or two, and by the time we come home, there will be new and other exciting scandals to talk about. We’ll be old mated folk, not interesting, nothing to see here.”

“And,” Bucky said, snuggling closer, “cephs don’t get in anybody else’s business. So I’ll have you allllll to myself for as long as this moneyhoom of yours lasts.”

“Honeymoon,” Tony said.

“Whatever.”

#tonystarkbingo2019 #tony stark x bucky barnes #mermaid AU #octo!Bucky #Mer Prince!Tony

54 notes · View notes

fivethreewolverine · 6 years ago

Text

Abilities far beyond the ordinary (1/7)

A/N: So uhm. I don’t know what this is. Probably not a drabble cause I feel like per definition that’s something where you’re like “hey I was super inspired and just wrote this quick drabble for you guys” which is definitely not what happened; I had this fraction of an idea, just like one short sequence, in my head, and then tried to build around it. It’s not really a one shot either I feel like cause there isn’t really much of a story here. Honestly, it’s just a thing. I’ve never written anything before in my life (apart from the two headcanon thingies my brain spit out) so if whoever reads this could not judge me too hard for it, that’d be great. I’m open to constructive criticism though, I know there’s a ton of amazing writers out there, and I’d just like to get better I guess, so if anyone reading this has any idea how I could achieve that, let me know!

I have a few ideas on how the others discovered their powers, and I’d like to try to write them all, even if I’m not good at it, sorry everyone.

Tagging some people (aka incredibly talented writers) who might be interested and/or able to help (sorry to bother you guys, feel free to ignore me and this mess of a thing): @diego2hargreeves @gayouijaboard [wow it really feels terrible to tag you guys cause you’re literally amazing and I’m just here like hey. wanna look at some literal garbage, say no more.]

Luther

For quite a few years of his young life, Luther had thought of himself as clumsy. Things around him always seemed to break, of their own accord or if it was his fault, he didn’t know. Everything was so damn fragile, and no matter how careful the boy was, most of the time, he couldn’t prevent it. According to Grace, it had always been that way. When he was just a baby, they had to replace his bed four times over the course of two weeks because he tended to break the bars that were supposed to keep him inside and safe.

Sir Reginald and Grace had almost gotten into a fight over it – almost, because no matter how unacceptable it was to Grace - they really needed to take care of the children - after all, she was supposed to just do that, not designed to argue about it, talk back or question Sir Reginald’s methods.

Of course, the bed wasn’t the only incident that had led to Luther not quite trusting himself with touching anything. Most of the time, when all he wanted was to pick up his favorite mug, he ended up with hot chocolate stains all over his uniform and broken pieces of porcelain in his hand. Eventually, he stopped choosing a favorite mug altogether. What’s the point in having favorite things when they are too fragile to use?

Then there were all the times he excitedly ran to his sister’s room – and ended up dumbfounded in front of her door, locked out while she was trapped inside. He had ripped of the door knob. Again. Sometimes he really hated the old mansion. Needless to say, Sir Reginald wasn’t too happy about replacing door knobs pretty much constantly either. Luther had lost count of how many times he had been told that, even though in his eyes they were just door knobs, exchangeable things no one ever even looked at, they were expensive items, manufactured exclusively in Italy.

Sometimes Luther would retreat into himself and barely leave his room, afraid that if he did, he’d just end up breaking something else, perhaps something that was irreplaceable, even for a billionaire like his father. Allison tried to cheer him up, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault.

“Happens to the best of us, Luther.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Of course, Number One.”

However, even with Allison by his side, there were days where he doubted himself. When he had broken something for the 17th time this week, and it was only Wednesday. When he had the same talk with his father that left him feeling like he was a disappointment to the man who had taken him in, every time.

"Number One, what did you do?”

“Nothing, father, I swear I’m not lying.”

“Does this look like nothing to you?”

“It’s an old house, it’s not my fault.”

“Out. I don’t want to see you until dinner.”

Sure, his father was also always telling him how he was special. But if all he was, was especially clumsy, he could live without being special.

Day in, day out, Sir Reginald was always going on about how they needed to train, to find what made them extraordinary, their super powers if you will, to change the world, to save it even. He had all of them wondering what it was they could do.

On a cold and rainy day in February that had already set the mood for Luther from the moment he had woken up to his curtains hanging in shreds (he swore he had just tried to close them when he had woken up in the middle of the night to the waxing moon shining in his face), Luther was feeling particularly low. After lunch, he was so frustrated and caught up in his own thoughts, that he was somewhat convinced his only ‘super power’ was to eat 16 hot dogs in one sitting.

Little did he know this would be the day he would finally figure it all out. Why everything in his general vicinity always seemed too damn fragile. Why it had always been him.

They had just finished their training for the day and Luther had gotten in an argument with Diego over what would be the most efficient way to take someone down – Diego insisted a knee to the bad guy’s stomach would get the job done while Luther preferred a safer approach such as blocking their attack first. It had gotten a little heated and the boy wasn’t being his usual overly cautious self.

“No, you gotta disarm them first or they’ll get you,” he exclaimed, looking pointedly at his brother.

“Whatever, you don’t know what you’re talking about anyway,” was Diego’s way of ending the argument.

Luther just sighed, annoyed at his brother’s stubbornness. He didn’t want to make an even bigger deal out of it. This was Diego after all, it was pretty much pointless to argue with him once he had made up his mind. So, to escape the situation, he didn’t correct his brother, but simply shoved past him instead. Or so he thought. Later, Luther would swear he had barely grazed him, he really had just wanted to shove him out of the way so he could get through. All of which was hard to believe in that very moment, considering that Diego was thrown across the entire foyer, crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the room. For a good three seconds, Luther could do nothing but stare. What on earth had just happened? Dumbfounded, he looked around, trying to find whatever had attacked his brother. Only when Diego started yelling at him did it dawn on him. There was no intruder, they weren’t under attack. He himself was the cause of this. He did that. No outside force, but a force inside of him. Luther couldn’t explain it, it had happened so fast, he hadn’t realized.

“Luther, WHAT THE FUCK?”

[Pogo, from God knows where: “Language!”]

“I’m sorry, God, Diego, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Do that again and you’re dead!”

Diego stared him down from across the room, furious, bleeding from a cut above the scar on his left eyebrow. Luther was praying it wouldn’t leave another scar, although Diego didn’t seem to have too much of a problem with the other one, it probably made him feel tough. When Diego charged at him from the other side of the room, it was really just his instincts that kicked in – and maybe also the intense training he’d undergone in the past few years. Of course, Luther raised his arms to defend himself. Diego’s fists collided with his forearms. Luther ducked to escape Diego’s following forward momentum and used the newfound room to take a swing at his brother himself. Nothing unusual for two boys who were constantly pitched against each other during training sessions. What was unusual, however, was that Luther’s punch sent Diego flying across the room once again. Just when Diego came crashing down on the floor, the large wing doors on the east side of the foyer opened, and the boy found himself at Sir Reginald’s feet.

“Number Two? Number One, what is the meaning of this? Why are you not getting ready for your evening classes? They will begin in 10 minutes! Don’t look at me now, Number Two, get up.”

“Luther attacked me!”

“Did you deserve it?”

“Did I…no! Dad, you didn’t see… He threw me across the room!”

“Why didn’t you defend yourself? You should be able to. We will have to intensify your training if you are still not strong enough to even get yourself out of a harmless situation like this. How will you ever be suited for missions, Number Two?”

“Father, it wasn’t Diego…Number Two’s fault. It was…I think it was… me.”

“What did you say? Speak up, Number One.”

“I said I think it was me!”

“What do you mean by that, explain yourself.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t even hit him that hard.”

“Like hell you did!”

“Language!”

“I mean… I didn’t intend to do it, it just happened. Like… I was really... like super… oh…super strong!”

“Okay, you really didn’t hit me that hard, I wasn’t expecting it, you know, my balance was off, you snuck up on me…”

“We were having a conversation, Diego, I didn’t sneak up on..”

“Silence! Number One, with me.”

And with that, Reginald Hargreeves turned on the heel and marched down the hallway to his office. Luther threw one last questioning look back to Diego, then set to follow his father.

Was this really it? Could this be? Super strength? Like a real hero?

Maybe he could fulfill his father’s vision, live up to the old man’s expectations.

Maybe he could truly save the world one day.

#the umbrella academy #a thing #my dumbass brain #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #sir reginald hargreeves

68 notes · View notes

angel-wings-and-broken-things · 6 years ago

Text

A rant about Vanya Hargreeves

(Note: this is decidedly anti-Vanya. If that bothers you, I suggest you click off right now, you have been warned. That said, I'm always up for some friendly debate if you see anything that I’ve said is incorrect, but please don’t respond with bullshit comments like “Luther made her” as it’s an embarrassing display of the pure immaturity that comes from Vanya stans.)

So I’ve been putting off this rant for a long time, mainly because I’ve been busy with school and other stuff. Also, I’ve been getting my kicks ranting to my sister about the pure idiocy that is Vanya Hargreeves and Vanya stans. However, my sister now says that she is done listening to my hour-long rage-fueled rants. Let me tell you that I cried, because a staple in my morning routine has become eating my toast and spilling tea with my younger sister. However, when presented with the facts, for example, that she has never watched the show and has no opinions on the character nor on the cataclysmic stupidity of the fandom for idolizing this psychopathic monster, I realized that perhaps it was the proper time for me to make this, and pray that I can move on to a life of happiness after expelling my hatred of these unintelligent people and arguments.

Also, I’m extremely high on caffeine and procrastinating my essays. So please bear with me as I take you on the journey of my three AM coffee induced rants. I understand that there is a very slim chance that I will change anybody's mind about Vanya, as many people choose to be ignorant about the problematic and hypocritical behavior of their favorite character. Society is relentless in its enablement of the truly moronic behaviors, and nothing has made me lose more faith in the world than the actual arguments I have seen from the half-witted, mindless Vanya stans. I’m not saying that everyone who stans Vanya is an idiot, but if someone else were to say it I would not disagree. Unfortunately, that is simply the conclusion that all evidence leads to. This introduction has gotten away from me a bit, so without further ado, here is every single bullshit argument that I have seen Vanya stans argue debunked.

Vanya’s Childhood.

First of all, I would like to point out that I have the utmost sympathy for all of the Hargreeves children for having to grow up with an abusive father. At no point in this rant will I disvalue Vanya’s trauma. As much as I truly hate her character, invalidating traumatic experiences and PTSD is a fucking dick move that I will leave to other parts of the fandom (*cough* anti-Luthers *cough*).

Now that that’s out of the way, let me dig deep into her psychopathic tendencies and unflinching lack of remorse for her actions that clearly has been present since adolescence. First, let us address her powers. I see people everywhere saying that having her powers bound was abusive and horrible, that Allison could have rumored her to have control instead, that she didn’t mean to do any of the things she did, etc. However, please consider that Reginald didn’t have a choice. Or rather I should say that his choices were limited and he made the best possible one given the circumstances. I’m not condoning his actions at all, I will be the first to denounce his actions and character. However, we need to consider all of the facts; not only did she physically attack him, but she also murdered several innocent people because she didn’t like oatmeal. This was to the point that Reginald designed Grace for the sole purpose of having someone who could control Vanya. Vanya was clearly displaying apathetic tendencies towards murder at a young age and cares nothing for the people she killed as long as she got what she wanted. She murdered people over oatmeal, and people stay defending her?

I was shocked when I saw this scene and realized that people were still stanning Vanya, because do you know what this points to people? A pattern. Vanya is a power-hungry maniac. This is shown many times in the show. She knows that she’s the most powerful person in the room and she shamelessly abuses that privilege. When she is a child and she realizes that she’s more powerful then Reginald can handle, what does she do? She explodes the glasses and hurts him with her powers. When she is fed a type of food that she doesn’t like and knows she can use her powers to get whatever she wants, what does she do? She murders her nannies for the sole purpose of getting her way. When she is an adult and realizes that she doesn’t have to listen to Allison, what does she do? Slits her throat and attempts to literally murder her, then runs away. When she doesn’t want to be held captive she destroys their house. When her siblings try to stop her from hurting people she burns the world to the ground. Do you see the pattern?

Furthermore, let us discuss The Umbrella Academy. Also known as Vanya once again showing her true colors as a spoiled brat. We see in both her autobiography and in the flashback scene where she destroyed the house that she felt excluded. Listen, I am a sibling, I have felt excluded before and I’m sure that my sisters have as well. But somehow none of us have burned our house to the ground. I know, you’re probably sitting at your keyboard shaking your head in awe at out restraint. I get that people sympathize with her loneliness throughout childhood, and I can see why. But honestly, I didn’t see anything too terrible in the flashback scene. What? Diego was pissed at her for barging into his room and Allison didn’t want Vanya to see her macking on Luther? Call me crazy but that just seems like siblings being siblings (aside from the making out with your other siblings part, that’s weird). Yes, the one about her being left out from the family portrait was kind of rough, but no reason to attempt to murder your whole family, kill your mom and father figure, and destroy your house.

She clearly has a being left out complex that began in adolescence and carried through adulthood. It’s okay when you’re a kid and you’re whining that Jimmy and Tommy won’t let you play tag with them, but it crosses a line when you act that way as a grown ass woman. Her book was also crossing a gigantic, fat red line that says in all caps YOU’RE TAKING THIS TOO FAR. What, Ben didn’t want to share his toys so in return you write a passive-aggressive novel about how much your siblings suck and left you out of their super secret club? Let’s say that Klaus also published a book talking about all of his traumatic experiences, and at the center of it was perfect Vanya who was normal and never experienced a single hardship. Different story, right? We don’t seem to talk about the fact that being in the Umbrella Academy seemed to suck. Klaus was forced into a mausoleum and made to live his worst nightmare, Ben was made to kill people using his powers, Luther was transformed into an ape-man without his consent and exiled to the moon, Five ended up stranded in the apocalypse for 45 years, and that's just when was shown on the screen. I’m positive that there were tons of other horrible things that the academy experienced, so where does Vanya get off pretending that she invented tragedy all because her precious feewings were hurt?

Locking Vanya Up

Listen. Listen. I said that I wasn’t going to invalidate Vanya’s trauma, and I plan to stick to that. Luther locking Vanya in that cage was fucked up. He shouldn’t have done that. However, in order to properly make my case we need to analyze everything, so allow me to play devil’s advocate for a moment. Vanya slit Allison’s throat. In what universe is that even a little bit acceptable? Not only was Allison her sister, but she was just trying to help. She says repeatedly that she loves Vanya, that she wants to help her, that she’s trying to rescue her from her abusive boyfriend, and once again we see Vanya turn to violence when she doesn’t get her way. I see tons of people saying that Allison had it coming because she rumored Vanya into thinking she was ordinary, but consider this: you’re an asshole. Allison was a child, she didn’t realize that what she was doing was wrong. She even admitted it to Vanya and said that she was confused/just remembered it. Guilty people don't admit their sins. Allison was confused and hurt, and Vanya tried to kill her.

Additionally, let’s refer to Leonard. Vanya killed him. Now, I’m not particularly broken up over his death, the bastard sort of had it coming. However, this is yet another example of Vanya overreacting with violence when she’s upset. Her murdering Leonard wasn’t self-defense, as he wasn’t attacking her, nor had he ever physically hurt her. While I’m aware that emotional abuse can be just as bad as physical abuse, and that Vanya was definitely in an emotionally abusive relationship with Leonard, it was still murder. There is no way that it would have held up in court, and I get that people can get trapped in abusive relationships, but if you want to leave a toxic relationship, the answer is not murder. It is never okay to kill someone unless it is in direct defense of your life. or someone else’s. Vanya killed Leonard and showed absolutely no remorse. In fact, the only time she ever showed any sort of guilt over what she did was to Allison, and she got over that in about 30 minutes.

I have gotten a bit off track, so going back to Luther locking Vanya up, he shouldn’t have done it. That much is clear, you should never subject someone to their worst fear. I could go on about Luther and his motivations, but I’ll save that for another rant. All I’m trying to say is that he had a good motive, it's still not okay but I feel that the entire fandom already holds Luther accountable for that, whereas no one holds Vanya accountable for her actions. Additionally, consider the other timeline. In the time where Five came from, Luther didn’t lock Vanya up. Why would he? We can see from Five’s flashback to finding his family dead that Allison’s throat wasn’t slit, therefore because Five was the one who pointed them in the direction of Harold Jenkins, and he wasn’t in the original timeline, there is only one conclusion to draw based on the evidence. In the original timeline, no one went after Vanya. Therefore, Leonard was able to convince her to go destroy Hargreeves mansion, and sometime in the process, Luther ripped his eye out. This is supported by Five saying that while he has assumed that the mansion fell with the apocalypse, it has actually happened before that. Vanya then, after murdering all of her siblings, went on to destroy the world, Leonard, and herself in the process. This shows that Luther was actually somewhat justified in his actions, Vanya has already proven that she is capable of killing and has no qualms about doing so. She has killed billions of people in multiple timelines, and Vanya stans still want to act like none of it was her fault? Okay.

The Guy In The Car

This is a pretty specific sub-category, but I felt like I had to bring it up because it is so fucking incredible the things that Vanya stans are willing to look past. Vanya literally murdered someone because he honked at her. Even if you can justify everything else she did, how can you justify that? Is road rage seriously worth killing over? People are so quick to say “YAS badass Vanya! A QWEEN!” but was Luther a badass when he grabbed Klaus by his fucking neck? No, so why is Vanya a badass when she nearly kills her sister and actually murders innocent people? The fact of the matter is, Vanya shows a continuous pattern of killing without remorse. She has not only killed many nannies, Leonard, her siblings (in the alternate timeline) and the whole fucking world (twice), but she murdered the man in the car for absolutely nothing. He could have had a family, he could have had children, but did Vanya think of that? Probably not, because she’s a psychopath.

Stop and take a good long look at any of these gifs and try to tell me she wasn’t in control. Try and tell me she isn’t a murderer.

The Apocalypse

Finally. The part of this rant that I’ve been the most excited to get to. This is where I get the most idiotic comments about Vanya. I may have to write a whole other section addressing the most stupid comments I have gotten. But nonetheless, everyone seems to be unanimously in agreement that it wasn’t Vanya’s fault, and this is where I run into some issues. Vanya isn’t a child, she’s a grown ass woman. Correct me if I’m wrong, but when you’re almost 30 years old, its time to take responsibility for your actions. Some of y’all’s mamas didn’t raise you right and it shows. When I was a kid, it didn’t matter if my little sister told me to steal the candy bar, I still stole the candy bar. It was my fault, I got punished. No one held a gun to Vanya’s head and forced her to burn the world to the ground. If you rewatch the final scene, it’s pretty clear that she’s in control of her actions. The only times I saw her lose control was when she was defending Leonard from the muggers and when she was ranting about her siblings. During the apocalypse? All I saw was pure vindictive pleasure. She was pissed off, so she would have everyone die.

I would like to point out, because I haven't seen anyone else talking about this, that Vanya was straight up ready to kill Luther, Klaus, Five, and Diego. At the end, when they all were trying to stop her (from destroying the world) she had them suspended in air and was clearly hurting them. You could see them in pain, their lives were literally draining away. It was pretty clear that they would have died if Allison hadn’t stopped her. And through it all, she didn’t care. She didn’t care that they would die, she didn’t care that the world would burn. The bottom line is that Vanya Hargreeves is a psychotic murderer, and the fandom needs to stop treating her like a goddess.

In conclusion

To summarize, Vanya displays the characteristics of a spoiled toddler. All she does is lash out when she doesn’t get her way and destroy the world and other people. She has killed countless people, and the fact that people keep saying it wasn’t her fault is such a classic example of the world’s stupidity. If you say that she wasn’t responsible, or that Luther made her do it, then congratulations, you are just as mature as Vanya is and that is not a compliment. No one can make you do anything. You always have choices, Vanya chose to destroy the world and that is something that she needs to be held accountable for.

I can kind of understand the appeal to Vanya, I suppose. She could come across relatable because of her lonely childhood. Or maybe shes just amassed such a large following because people love Ellen Page (which I get). But the fact remains that I have heard so many idiotic Vanya supporters preaching her psycho gospel and completely ignoring every shitty thing she’s done. So next time I reply to someone’s moronic, unintelligent, not thought through comment, and they try and start beef with me, I’ll just link this rant. I’ve gotten tired of repeating myself. So hey, if you said something to me on twitter about how Vanya isn’t responsible for all the people she killed in cold blood, and I commented with this link, then congrats! You are such a moronic mouthpiece that I felt the need to spend hours writing this essay detailing every single reason as to why your opinion is invalid. Save us both some time here and just stop talking. Either that or turn on your notifications and fight me irl, I won’t hesitate to cleanse the bloodline of your stupidity. Sucks to suck man, don’t let the door hit you on the way to hell.

If you finished this, congratulations. Grammarly tells me that this takes an average of 12 minutes to read so thank you for sticking with me throughout this 2,500-word monster of a rant. You’re a real one. And if you still stan Vanya, then no worries. Believe it or not, I’m not against stanning Vanya. The problem is that most Vanya stans love her on the grounds of believing that she’s innocent, and the fact of the matter is that she’s not. It’s okay to like whoever you want to like, but acknowledge that your fave is problematic instead of being an idiot and naively trying to convince me of her innocence. The facts are on my side here, people. You’re not going to win this argument.

#anti vanya hargreeves #anti vanya #not anti luther #not anti luther hargreeves #vanya stans are idiots #tua #the umbrella academy #rant #the umbrella academy fandom #ben hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #not anti anyone but Vanya #cuz shes a bitch #i get that ellen page is hot but c'mon #idk man #im gonna go get drunk now peace out

20 notes · View notes

zrbillings · 5 years ago

Text

Pokemon Sword & Shield - Review

So it’s been a long time since I’ve reviewed anything (years in fact) and since video reviews take such an exorbitant amount of time and COPPA has made Youtube this very scary place right now; I figured why not do what I know and write a review.

So with that out of the way, let's talk about Pokemon Sword & Shield. These games appear to be super devicieve you’re either in #gamefreaklied #bringbackthenationaldex camp or you’re a ‘defender’. I find that I have a bit of a unique perspective on the game so I wanted to share my thoughts. I’ve just completed Pokemon Sword, and just so you out there in internet land know my qualifications because to Pokemon fans that seems they only real way to justify having a different opinion.

I was born in ‘91

Pokemon Blue was my literal first GB game.

If point 2 wasn’t enough I collected everything Pokemon and grew up watching the show, often playing the games while I did.

I’ve completed the National Dex

I’ve completed the Kanto Dex like 3x over.

And I’ve played various other spin-off games i.e. Colosseum, Stadium, Gale of Darkness, Trozie? Trozae?

And if you couldn’t put it together I’ve played through nearly every mainline game the only exceptions being. Alpha Sapphire, Diamond, Fire Red, Let’s Go Pikachu, Sun, Ultra Moon. Basically at some point if I owned one version that’s all I needed.

Okay! So with all that out of the way, let’s talk about these games. Plain and simple if you just want to know if it is actually bad, no it’s not, it’s good, one could argue great, I wouldn’t, but you could. If you like Pokemon, get over the National Dex and “It ShOuLD LoOk BEtTeR” and play it, it’s fun it’s Pokemon with some new gimmicks. 3 out of 5 I guess if you want to be critical. Okay so for the rest of you, the ones who are more critical and want to know what SUCKS, and what ROCKS. Keep in mind going forward I’m not addressing the whole stupid delemma of cut Pokemon or graphics, at least not in depth, you want to talk that crap just @ me I’ve got the time. So graphically it is undoubtedly the best looking in the series you literally cannot argue that, should it look better? Well, I don’t know, I think to expect it to makes you look stupid no matter what reasoning you want to bring to the table. Pokemon has literally NEVER shown interest in pushing graphics, they’ve almost never made massive leaps forward, the amount of times they have can be counted on one had, so to have expected more that’s on you, not them. I find them to be gorgeous, yeah there’s things here and there that could be better, but if you go looking for a problem in anything you’ll find it, you could find ugly stuff in Skyrim too, or even Final Fantasy 15. Characters are definitely more expressive than they’ve ever been, the towns are stunning and I feel unlike some of the more recent games definitely come off as more memorable even if you can’t name them, you can instantly picture them. Animations, while I totally agree should be better, shouldn’t have been expected to be more than they are, again this is Gamefreak they literally improve at a snail’s pace justified or not. That being said, while Pokemon aren’t particularly animated in battle, the game overall is the most animated in the series, and here’s why. Again characters are far more expressive, and are constantly moving even in battles when a Pokemon attacks the trainer makes an action, you have overworld Pokemon, you have each and every Pokemon able to do a handful of different animations in Pokemon Camp. You have the world itself that is filled with movement i.e. NPCs, scenery here and there, a good example being the town Ballonlea the Fairy-Type gym location in case the name doesn’t sound familiar. So yes while the animations aren’t particularly impressive, I would say they’re still the best in the series AS A WHOLE (can’t believe I need to specify that). The big draw of this game is the open are called The Wild, this is sort of what people who hate these games wanted an entire game to be like, but better. And I think while they could be bigger, they feel the right size in correlation to the size of the rest of the map, there’s plenty to explore and it is genuinely fun to roam around in especially online. That being said, the game definitely (at least for me) chugs a bit while online, but I wouldn’t say it ruined the experience at all for me. It was so cool to see other players setting up camps and running around, I will say however that while these things are cool, they could have been developed further. You can’t interact with these players if you engage with one they just give you a stock response and then hand you some sort of cooking item, which okay getting cooking items this way fantastic! But why not let trainers customize their greetings? A little especially while in camps? There’s just more they could have done here, I can understand not wanting to create a system where interacting with someone dead stops them in place in order to trade or whatever, that could get really annoying. But I find, there’s not enough here that really push this feeling of a shared space, like why not have brought back Secret Bases again? And had your friend’s bases show up that way if you did want to hang out and chat (through the terrible Nintendo App, or whatever superior option) you could! Like can you imagine? Instead of just having to camp outside and hang out with friends having like your own space to hang out, battle, trade. You could have made this space like an area where if you interact with a trainer a menu for those sort of things could be triggered. The Wilds overall are fun and they’re cool to explore for new Pokemon, I just feel they could have been experimented a little more with. I won’t prattle on any further, but just saying I’d love to see Gamefreak take this and push it harder next game. As an ending note I do fine the placement of The Wilds fine, at first it looks odd, but once you start playing given it’s function it makes sense, I think if the whole game were The Wilds like some people desperately want, you’d run into a lot more problems, with things like trainer placement, and how to limit progression, not saying it can’t be done, just that we’re a ways off from anything like that happening yet. I will say this though (sorry last thing I swear) I DO NOT like how the progression system of The Wilds works, the moment you enter it you can explore 90% of it, which fine, EXCEPT! The problem becomes that while you can explore nearly every nook and cranny of it you can only catch Pokemon in designated areas because if a Pokemon is over a certain level and you don’t have enough badges you just straight up can’t catch it. Which okay I can understand, but then I SHOULDN’T EVEN BE ALLOWED THERE! For example (and why I’m bringing this up) there is an area where you must cross a bridge to get into the next section of the lands, cool I think this is great it visually queues us, “hey this is a different section so logically the Pokemon will be stronger here.” The problem! Is while we in theory can piece this together literally nothing stops us from crossing, the reason this bothers me is because on the literal otherside of the bridge is I SHIT YOU NOT a MF Snorlax! Just chillin, doesn’t wander just stands there, while okay this is a great reference to other games. WHY WOULD YOU NOT! Just put him sleeping on the bridge like in every other game in this scenario, it bars the pass and players don’t waste their time exploring an area before they can get the most out of it. Plus! This game rewards you special Acorn Balls at each Gym, if you don’t know what these are they were in Gold and Silver they’re special Pokeballs that in this game are one of a kind that have awesome effects, the one I want to reference specifically here is the Heavy Ball which works better the heavier a Pokemon is i.e. “this ball was invented for catching Snorlax.” So it baffles me how Gamefreak didn’t do something like the last Gym before you’re able to wake up Snorlax and pass the bridge allows you to get a Heavy Ball thusly not only letting you finally progress into this new area, but also gives you an item as a sort of reward. Wow, sorry moving on. I find where this game really misses the mark is the story and the characters, outside Hop (who is insufferable early on) are really bland and sort of lackluster. I feel like this is a bigger thing to be upset about than animations and Pokemon count. Hop is one of the only rivals to truly go through a character arch which is amazing! He goes from this arrogant, insufferable, condescending, ass, to someone who just wants to be the best, but doesn’t act like he already is, he knows where he’s at and strives to be more. This huge development really, really shows how poor the rest of the cast is, the professor this time is boring, not even a professor really at least not like were used to. The champion is fine, but lacks any real charisma like the game wants you to believe he has. The other rival Bede is...under utilized? Like he comes around and it’s like, “finally! Gary Oak 2.0!” and he just sort of disappears about half way through the game and then pops up at the end. I’m not going to go through the whole cast, but everyone is more or less this same sort of doesn’t bring much to the table. As dumb as Team Yell are I actually like that they’re not the evil baddies of the game, they’re not even Team Skull level, they’re just kind of a bit of inconsiderate fanboys, they work well as a level progression block? System? Their use for impeding your progress until you’ve done the right thing works well is what I’m saying. The big thing with this game is it really lacks an evil team, it’s like The Aether Foundation all over again, except infinitely worse, while The Aether Foundation sort of slowly unravels at some point, the ‘evil team’ or in this case just two baddies, kind of feels like it comes completely out of left field and only happens because Gamefreak wanted a cool way to introduce the legendaries. It just felt super random and unsatisfying and that the motivations really didn’t make sense and happens right in the middle of the Pokemon League so it kills all momentum, and any tension the league did have. Which is another thing the league is shit, it’s bad, the idea is really good, it’s inspired by the show it feels like a proper tournament, but since you can heal and swap out Pokemon between each match there is 0 tension, and since the story just decides to interrupt it, it just doesn’t feel satisfying. Beating the champion doesn’t feel like an accomplishment because you’ve already beaten the big baddie just before him, and all the other trainers before him in two different sessions, it doesn’t feel like you went through this gauntlet of really tough trainers to reach him and prove yourself, it feels like no matter what you were always going to beat him, the game did literally everything it could to make sure you beat him! I felt fucking bad beating him, because it was so easy, I literally gave him a handicap, I used 0 healing items and beat him with two Pokemon to spare and that was also because I gave him another handicap where I didn’t switch out once I threw out a Pokemon! Gyms are back, but they kind of feel like they belong in Sun and Moon because you have to do ‘missions’ before each one before you face the leader which is fine, but I personally could have done without them, for the most part they're just glorified obstacle courses. I guess they feel like the same old stuff, but I think it’s the nature in which they’re handled that actually bother me and less of having to do them myself. I think in a way given how this Pokemon League is set up it would have made more sense to just completely do away with them, maybe put something else there in its place. The gym leaders are all really colorful and actually really well designed, they all have their own very defined personalities which is cool, It would have been cool to have actually seen more of them somehow. The last thing I’ll talk about as this review is already overly long is Dynamaxing. It’s fine, I will say that if it were up to me I would have changed how it’s handled, I think the raid battles are great, they’re really fun they make grinding for levels a fucking joke and I love it, it helps you find really cool Pokemon and strong Pokemon for your team it makes Online feel like there are actually other trainers out there in the world taking on this gym challenge besides just you, it’s cool, but I feel outside of the raids there really pointless. Each Gym Leader uses it always with their last Pokemon, and it never feels like it matters so long as you Dynamax yours at the same time and have type advantage it’ll feel like KO-ing any other old Pokemon except it’s big af.If it were me I would have changed it to Mega Evolutions, because they actually feel like they matter and then they could have introduced new megas and I’ll do you one even better! What about when after you beat the Gym leader they gave you the same kind of mega stone that they used! Maybe in place of TMs, or in conjunction with them rather than them giving you Gym uniforms you’re never going to wear. That’s more short and sweet two cents on the Dynamax system, it’s great for raids pointless for everything else. Kind of like the clothing in this game, and that’s all I’ll say about the clothing that and I think the uniform thing was dumb and should have only been used for the Pokemon League rather than every single Gym battle. And that’s it! That’s my very thorough review of Pokemon Sword & Shield. Like I said at the beginning, these games are fun no doubt, but they definitely aren’t even in the top 5. I think there’s a lot of wasted potential or cooler directions they could have taken these. There are definitely cool things like the different gyms for the two versions, The Wilds are fun to hang out in and run around, the new Pokemon are actually really cool, I love that they added more regional variants and not just for Kanto Pokemon, the towns are very visually memorable. But outside that, I’m kind of hard-pressed to think of much else, I can’t speak on the post-game either, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any if at all. This game simultaneously feels like the largest Pokemon game to date as well as one of the smallest.

#pokemon #bring back the national dex #gamefreaklied #pokemon sword and shield #review

1 note · View note

fulcrum-agent · 5 years ago

Note

❛ never run back to what broke you. ❜

There were less and fewer reasons to stay in Eorzea anymore.

Each city-state was more focused on outdoing one another in their contributions to the front-lines positioned in the Ghimlyt Dark, finding little reason to reach beyond the battleground now. The scant refugee efforts were going well, coordinated by non-combatant members of the Resistance, the people who needed to be evacuated from the kingdom.

Although a single free company with rather deep pockets had offered to finance the Resistance, as they had done in both Gyr Abania and Doma, its members were tied up in projects for the Eorzean Alliance. While monetary support is always necessary, a lack of manpower could make such contributions useless.

For a time, the leadership of the company had gone missing, leaving the company in the hands of the founder’s brother-in-law, his family, and herself. In the initial shock of the disappearance, the day-to-day management of the company had been a little overwhelming, but as they adjusted to the new workload, it became less and less taxing. The Attwaters were more than capable of the seneschal work on their own, leaving her with more and more time to herself.

Day by day, she found herself thinking that a return to the Garamsythe Waterways would be far more productive than remaining in Eorzea.

Beyond the logistical efforts for the Resistance, her time in Eorzea was proving to be as unsuccessful in her private matters as in the affairs of the Resistance. Success has been fleetingly momentary, easily destroyed, and deeply scarring for her.

Lost in thought, she stares at the parchments on the desk before her, without focusing on them, her tea and accompanying snack forgotten about until a knock at the door pulls her from her reverie.

“Enter,” she intones as her gaze solidifies on the wooden and rice paper structure.

The door slides open to reveal a familiar male figure clad in a simple button-down shirt, suspenders, finely-cut slacks, an Ishgardian cloche, and sturdy dress boots with field dressings adorning his hands. A band of black leather wraps around his right wrist, rounded in its shape due to what it covers, myriad coloured light seeking to escape from the binding.

Her eyes flicker down to a similar strip of leather on her left wrist, widening at the fact she’s missed the steadily growing glow that also escapes from its binding.

“…I can’t say I recall ever seeing you so lost in thought, sister,” the man at the door states, leaning against the threshold to watch her. “Gil for your thoughts?”

Aquamarine hues stray from the bracelet back to the man, brows furrowing and nose wrinkling at his tone and perhaps his presence. He seldom makes an appearance, even in the direst of times, so his arrival was a herald that makes her wary.

“You…may as well take a seat for such,” she replies with a soft sigh. “There is a lot on my mind, presently.”

With something of a smirk, the man moves into the room to take a seat across the desk from her, reaching up to pull the cloche off his head as soon as the door slides closed behind him. He makes himself at home, feet coming to rest on the desk itself as his bandaged hands lace together across his torso.

“I figured as much after the gossip Saber’s been telling me,” he quips casually, smirk widening. “He’s rather insistent on keeping an eye on you ever since the incident with the false orders.”

Her eyes narrow at her twin as he reveals that she’s being closely monitored - far more closely than she suspected. Since being reunited, they’ve played something of a game in keeping tabs on one another, yet he always seems to have the upper hand due to his association with the Shikari.

“And what, pray to tell, has the Shikari been whispering to you now?” she inquires in an annoyed tone.

That smirk widens as his head tilts to consider her for a long moment, causing her lips to press into a thin line as she glares at him further.

“Oh, you know, that you’re considering returning to Dalmasca after the little tiff with Asher. Revealing such to your little knight friend,” he reels off one at a time, “getting a bit too intimate with the said guard, and mistakenly thinking I’d approve of it, yet again.”

Her jaw nearly drops as he speaks on matters he shouldn't have been able to know of, given that until recently, she wasn’t aware of where the young knight lived. Either the Shikari was quicker than she imagined, or Corwell’s apartment was already being watched closely.

Recovery comes swiftly, and she leans forward, elbows propping against the desk as her own hands lace together, so she can rest her chin atop them. Gazing at her ‘dear’ brother, she considers how best to respond to the surveillance.

“I never presumed to know whether or not you would approve of Ser Corwell, she points out to him after a long moment of silence. “When he spoke about an actual courtship, he became aware he had to earn your blessing. As far as I was concerned, he ticked off the most important boxes: he cares deeply, he can defend me should any sort of attack occur where I would otherwise become overwhelmed, and he is of noble stock.”

Sneering, his feet drop from their perch on the desk as he leans forward with a shake of his head, his manner causing her to lean back and cross her arms stubbornly.

“There’re many boxes he doesn’t tick off, sister dear. While he may be nobly born, he’s far from noble breed, and when the politicking starts after the kingdom’s freed, he’s more of a liability than an asset,” her twin counters smoothly. “I’d rather you mend things with Valera, and we work out an arrangement there than this - at least Valera can stand on his own two feet at the Blue Council; they’ll eat Corwell for breakfast.”

Her hands land on the desk’s edge, using the leverage to push herself to stand as she glares at her twin, expression darkening further as she recalls the final moon or two she spent at Valera’s estate and in his company.

“You would rather a drunken womanizer whose forsaken his oaths than someone who holds to such? Someone whose far more invested in the reclamation and restoration of Dalmasca?” she retorts hotly with a wave of her hand. “The stories make the Lion out to be a hero, but he’s not such anymore, nor do I think he ever will become such. He’s grown overly fond of wine, women, and wealth to bother with meaningful heroics anymore.”

“Yes, he’s changed, there’s no denying it. But a man changed once can change again - he was changing the longer you were present in one another’s lives,” he argues rather adamantly. “Change takes time, dear sister, and you didn’t afford him enough.”

Anger darkens her features as she makes an exasperated motion in response.

“The kingdom cannot wait for his ennui to pass, and you know it. Don’t think I don’t see what you were planning there, don’t think I cannot see how disappointed you are that such will not come to pass,” she seethes at him with a hint of a growl in her voice. “It is out of the question, at this point, so unless you have a spare Dalmascan hero lying around, you will not be getting your wish.”

His eyes roll at her little eruption as he shakes his head.

“Yes, I’m well aware it’s out of the question now, Ashe. It was more of an example than an actual suggestion, really,” he replies with a sigh. “Even that vagabond of yours gave me more to work with than Corwell does. He could have become titled, he could more than protect you, and he was at least somewhat cunning when it came to dealing with people.”

His words earn him a reminder that she’s very much so a redhead, very quickly.

“His manner of dealing with people was the point of contention! He’s indifference to the petty jealousies and the harm they caused makes Valera’s lack of awareness seems quaint,” she growls harshly. “There is something of a saying I have heard in recent days - never run back to what broke you. Valera nearly broke me, was it not for our sky pirate friend and his companion’s efforts to avoid such. Jurien…succeeded at such, spectacularly.”

She raises her left hand, pointing towards the doorway of the small office, features swathed in pain and rage as she nearly yells, “If Corwell is so disappointing, prove to me that there is someone more worthwhile who not only ticks off all of your prerequisite boxes but also is capable of caring as much as Jon does.”

Her twin rises from his seat slowly, his finger lifting in a chiding motion as he prepares to acquiesce to her request.

“Think about this, sister dear - it’s one thing for a man to die on a battlefield, and another for them to die on the chessboard of politics. The latter will breed resentment, while the former makes one a hero,” he points out as he turns towards the door. “While it’s all well and good that someone loves you for you, they’ve also got to be able to love you as a princess.”

With that, he begins making his way to the door as she seethes at his back before her temper breaks again, her hand retracting some to make a chiding motion.

“Did it ever occur to you I no longer wish to be a princess?” she retaliates, more out of spite than with conviction.

His head snaps back, forcing most of his upper body to turn back towards her as he raises a finger in warning once more.

“If you didn’t wish to be a princess, you’d not resort to returning to Garamsythe. You might not wish to be the princess, but your sense of responsibility and love of the kingdom will keep you from ever truly running away from your position,” he states rather matter-of-factly before making his way out the door. “Prove me wrong, Ashe - you know as well as I that you can’t.”

The door has barely closed behind him when she drops back down into the chair, pulling her legs up onto the flat surface of its seat. One hand rises to hold her features, while the other drapes against her leg and the arm of the chair, chest rising and falling with erratic breaths.

He’s right, and she knows it. He’s right about her, he’s almost right about Corwell, and he’s likely right about Valera and Asher. Such, however, leaves her more confused about what her next move should be than before his visit.

On the other side of the door, her twin sighs and places his head in a hand as he sighs. The conversation hadn’t gone at all how he’d hoped, and he’s leaving more frustrated than he was before arriving. His hand shifts to his linkpearl as he moves for the exit to the library, the pearl flaring to life with the touch.

“Saber…I believe I failed,” he murmurs over the pearl. “See what you can do…”

#prompt answers #the deadman.the princess #the deadman walking #the princess of the heart #relsar heiral #ashe heiral #twin things #faceless background player #inquiry solved!

3 notes · View notes

racingtowardsaredlight · 6 years ago

Note

hi! can you do a harrison osterfield angst with 18. “boundaries are good”? thank you, hun!

18. “Boundaries are good”

It was getting to him and you knew it. He couldn’t go twenty minutes without checking his phone; and every time he did just threw it down with a huff after scrolling for a while. You weren’t entirely sure why he put himself through the torture but you knew always had issues dealing with his self esteem.

Harrison, your gorgeous, lovely, Harrison. Your beautiful, sweet boyfriend of just eight months but you were sure it would be forever. He was so talented and it had finally been recognized in such a big way that you were over the moon the moment he told you. He was slated to work alongside some of the biggest stars in Hollywood in a film that was already getting Oscar buzz so early. Harrison couldn’t believe he’d landed it and every news outlet was reporting on his portrayal of the main character in the trailer that had come out just days earlier.

Of course with all good media, the bad comes with it. Twitter was the center of judgement and every wannabe critic had come after his acting, clothing, personality, etc. He could deal with the small things, people saying his performance was minor or that he dressed too high fashion for press junkets, but it’s when they begin talking about how he got such a role that hurt. Everyone said he got the part because of Tom; that Spider-Man himself was out scouting roles for his sidekick because he couldn’t get roles on his own. It killed Harrison to know that people thought he wasn’t good enough or that he needed Tom’s help to build up his career. he worked hard for his career and Tom had nothing to do with it. He was his best friend and that was it, Harrison would never ask for something like that and Tom knew Harrison was talented enough to get roles on his own. But the assumptions still got to him. So he tried to block it out and ended up failing completely.

After the press junket for the film, there was a couple weeks before the premiere that Harrison had to himself. The original plan was to come home to you and spend time together and be a couple again since he was gone so long. That changed quickly when Harrison couldn’t pull himself out of the funk that the constant judgement gave him. You two spent a few days together as Harrison was trying to be upbeat and happy but ultimately being on edge and distant. Then he started making excuses as to why couldn’t see you when in reality he just sat at home being miserable. Two weeks in, only one of them being the few days you spent with Harrison, you ignored his texts saying he was in meetings all day and headed to his apartment. Sure enough, when you used your spare key to get in, you found Harrison in his room alone. He had his headphones in and was scrolling through his phone, his back turned to you as he laid on his bed, still in his pajamas even though it was well into the afternoon. You walked toward him, the boy not moving as he continued to scroll. His music must have been too loud to hear your footsteps. You could see that he was going through Twitter, and you could just barely see that the tweets he was reading were not good ones. It finally clicked that this was why he was so upset, he brought the tweets up to you during one of your three hour long phone calls when he was still on the press tour and you told him not to worry about them. It looked like he didn’t listen. You cleared your throat as loud as you could, causing Harrison to jolt and turn over; his eyes were wide and he looked freaked out.

“What the hell?! Y/N?! What are you doing here, I said I was busy!” He shouted. Concern, upset, and general confusion made apparent on his face. “You’ve avoided me for a week and a half Harrison, I knew something was wrong! I thought you might be cheating or worse and I freaked and came to check on you!” You defended as you came to sit on the edge of his bed, Harrison drawing his legs up as he sat against the bed frame.

“Boundaries are good, you know.” He stated, trying to sound angry at you as his upset took control of his facial expressions. Your heart broke a little bit to see your boyfriend look so upset over other people’s stupid assumptions. It also hurt to know he wasn’t coming to you for something like this. “Yeah, boundaries are good. But distancing yourself completely from the people who love you is destructive. Harrison why didn’t you come to me? You know that nothing these people are assuming is true but you don’t have to deal with it alone.” You tried to keep your voice level as you held back upset tears. Harrison was always the strong one in your relationship. Up until now he was never upset around you and he had always been the one to wipe your tears. Seeing him so hurt made your heart ache and tears brim your eyes.

Harrison sighed and contemplated his movements for a moment before moving to you and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. He wanted to argue it further, say he wasn’t bothered, threaten to take your key away but he knew that would have just made everything so much worse. Instead he decided to bare his feelings, he always helped you so why not ask for help? He allowed himself to hold you for a while as you rubbed his back sweetly and planted soft kisses on his neck. After a few moments, Harrison pulled back but grabbed your hands and held them in his own. “I thought I could deal with this alone. I tried to push them out of my head for so long but it just came back worse and worse every time. When I spent time with you, I could only think of what people would say about us too. That I’m not good enough for you. That Tom probably got you to date me too. I couldn’t be around you because I didn’t want you to have to put up with me being such a baby.” He kept his eyes on your intertwined hands as he spoke. “Harrison,” you spoke softly, your voice breaking as you saw him be so vulnerable. You took one hand away and reached up to lift his chin so he’d look at you as you let your fingers trace his cheekbone and down his jawline. You cupped one side of his face and stroked your thumb along his cheek, smiling softly as he leaned into your touch.Pulling him to you, you kissed him softly on the lips as well as small kiss to his nose and his forehead. You returned your hand to your intertwined ones when you pulled away from the kiss and gripped his hands reassuringly.

“You worked hard for everything you have, okay? You got that role from auditions and pure talent, fair and square. You won me over with your charm and sweetness. You did everything on your own, no help from Tom. He supported you the entire time but he can’t take credit for anything you’ve done nor would he. He knows your talent and makes sure everyone knows you did this yourself. Those assholes can say what they’d like but they don’t know just how good you truly are. And when this movie premieres, they’ll see that the person they’ve been dogging on is the best up and coming actor they might ever see. Then they’ll just shut the fuck up and go back to trying to end someone else’s career.” Tears brimmed Harrison’s eyes as you spoke. He practically tackled you once you finished, hugging you as hard as he could without breaking you. Pulling away he kissed you again, this time with love and passion rather than upset.

“I love you so much.” He spoke, saying the words he had been planning on saying at the premiere. It was your turn to tear up as you kissed him once more and returned the sentiment. “I love you so much more”.

Hope you enjoyed it!!!

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfield angst #blue eyed wonder #blurbs #blue eyed wonder blurbs

67 notes · View notes

hysterialevi · 6 years ago

Text

When the Devil Cries pt. 15

This story is also on AO3

Previous chapter

From Arthur’s POV

ONE MONTH LATER

RYAN RESIDENCE, SAINT DENIS

Eddie and I trotted underneath the calm night sky, steadily making our way back to the pianist’s house as the rest of the city dimmed down with the fading of the sun.

By now, the boy and I had been ridin’ all over this country for the past few weeks -- bounty hunting, moving from town to town, hidin’ from Rose’s men -- and strangely enough...part of me was sad that it was all finally coming to an end, despite the danger we were in.

Spending time with that kid...it made me feel free. Made me feel like I didn’t have a single, goddamned worry in the world. And somethin’ about him just gave me the courage to step outta this angry, spiteful shell I had created. I mean, I was still grumpy...but at least when I was with Eddie, I knew that weren’t all there was to me.

As much as I enjoyed bein’ around the musician though, I figured I had dragged him across the wilds for long enough and that it was time to bring the boy home, now that things had calmed down in Saint Denis.

Neither of us had set foot anywhere near the city ever since that god-awful shootout, and it looked like Dutch had also kept his distance from the “civilized” land, allowing the local law to lower their guard a bit. And on top of that, I didn’t see any sign of Atticus or his men, which meant they had probably given up their search in this part of Lemoyne.

Eddie should’ve been safe for the time being, and I certainly prayed I was right.

Hitching our horses outside the property’s fence, I walked the pianist to the front door as the both of us stretched our arms and neck, stiff from the long ride home.

It had been quite a while since I last saw this house, and the minute I laid eyes upon it, memories started flooding my head like a wave on the shore.

I remembered the first day I met Eddie; when he asked me to come to his house to hear one of his compositions. Life seemed so much simpler back then, and part o’ me still couldn’t believe how much we had been through since those days.

Dealin’ with Middleton, surviving Rose’s assassins, hunting the Arlington Twins and Archibald Hill -- Eddie and I truly were almost unstoppable when working together. I mean, sure, the kid might not’ve been as good a gunslinger as Dutch, or Hosea, or even me...but he sure as hell had learned a lot since our first encounter. And I...I was proud of him. Extremely proud.

“Welp, here we are,” I said, gently holding Eddie’s hand as we walked through the front door. “Home sweet home.”

The pianist let out a content sigh and took his hat off, placing it on a nearby end table as he settled in.

“Never thought I’d say it, but...I missed Saint Denis. It’ll be nice to sleep in an actual bed again. I’m exhausted.”

I laughed at that. “I bet.”

Eddie gazed at me and beamed brightly, bringing out the soft-hearted side of him I had grown so familiar with.

“Thank you for all your help these past few weeks, Arthur. You didn’t have to stay and help me survive out there...but you did. I won’t forget it.”

I shrugged, holding up a casual hand. “Ah, don’t mention it. Least I could do. ...You, um...you gonna be okay by yourself? I mean, I know things have calmed down here, but still, you never know.”

The boy slipped off his coat and threw it over a couch. “I should be alright. You’ve shown me how to defend myself, after all. And if anything does happen, I promise you’ll be the first one to know.”

“Good,” I said. “Just...stay alert, okay? And be well.”

“The same goes for you,” Eddie replied. “I can’t imagine running with a gang is anywhere near secure. So, stay safe.”

I let out a quiet chuckle. “Ain’t no such thing as safe out there, but I’ll do my best.”

A doubtful thought suddenly popped up in my mind, and I gazed at Eddie for a moment before workin’ up the courage to ask him about it.

“...You...sure you’re okay with me bein’ an outlaw?” I checked. He crossed his arms.

“Well...I wouldn’t say I’m okay with it,” he admitted. “But if you’ve been an outlaw for this long, I assume it’s because you have no choice.”

I nodded somberly. “And you’d be correct. For now, anyway. I ain’t really got any other options at the moment.”

The boy didn’t seem bothered. “Well then, you do what you have to do.”

I was quiet in response, leading Eddie to cock his head at me as he effortlessly pulled out any secrets I was hidin’ behind my stone-cold expression.

“...You don’t believe me.” He concluded.

I threw a limp hand in the air, patting my lap once it fell back down.

“There you go again. Readin’ me like a goddamned book.”

Eddie giggled and took a few steps forward, affectionately rubbing the side of my arm.

“You should know it’s pointless to keep things from me by now, Arthur. What’s on your mind?”

A conflicted sigh escaped me.

“It’s just...” I glanced around the house in uncertainty, “...you ain’t the first person I been with, Eddie. Ain’t the first person to learn about all...this. See... there was this girl a long time ago that I loved. Her name was Mary. I met her when I was young and stupid -- I’m still stupid now, mind you -- but she played me for a fiddle like no one else alive. We was even engaged at one point.”

Eddie glanced at my ringless finger, a look of sorrow spreading across his face.

“Was?”

I clenched my jaw, trying not to open up too much.

“...Her daddy found out I was an outlaw,” I explained. “Learned about the kinda life I had. About what I did...and he hated it. Hated me even more. Eventually, we...called off the engagement, and Mary went off and settled down with some other man.”

The boy frowned out of sympathy. “I mean...I’m glad you’re with me now, but I’m also sorry you had to go through that.”

I shook it off. “Nah, don’t be. Like I said -- it was a long time ago. I guess...I’m just surprised you didn’t take off like she did when you found out I was workin’ with Dutch goddamn Van der Linde. That’s usually the response I get.”

Eddie almost looked insulted. “What-- you really thought I was just going to...abandon you? Because of that?”

“Wouldn’t blame you.”

The pianist grabbed my hand, holding it in a reassuring manner.

“Arthur...I may not approve of what you do, or the way you’ve hurt people, but you are a good man. In your own, twisted way. In fact, you’re the last person I’d want to leave behind, and you’re fooling yourself if you think I ever will.”

I fell silent, admittedly a bit surprised at the response. I was expectin’ Eddie to be at least a little dubious about our relationship, considering I was a wanted man in more states than I could count, but the man seemed adamant in his decision to stay with me. And I loved him even more for it.

I lightened my tone slightly and gripped Eddie’s hand in return, saying a final goodbye to him before taking my leave.

“...Thank you, Eddie,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “I still doubt I’m a good man like you claim, but...I must’ve done somethin’ right to end up with you. Well, anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep. I know you’re tired, and you got a lot to attend to. Just be careful, okay? And come to me if you ever need anything.”

The boy’s smile came back. “I will. But you have to take care of yourself, too.” He pecked a tender kiss on my lips. “Goodnight, Arthur. I hope our paths cross again soon. I’d love to explore the wilds with you sometime.”

I chuckled, heading towards the front door. “You just can’t get enough of the country, can you?”

He shook his head and stayed in the doorway, waving a friendly goodbye as I stepped back out into the cool, dark night.

“Nope. And thanks to you, I probably never will.”

A WHILE LATER

KAMASSA RIVER

Relaxing by the river with my horse, I made no haste to get back to camp as the moon slowly sank its way under the thin clouds, casting a pale but somehow pretty light across the fields surrounding me.

There were only a few hours left until morning, and if I timed this right, I was hopin’ to get back to Shady Belle somewhere close to dawn. I didn’t wanna go galloping into camp in the middle of the night, but I also didn’t wanna deal with the gang when everybody was awake.

For some reason, the people there always seemed to end up roamin’ towards me one way or another, and the last thing I wanted was to be greeted with Swanson’s drunken ramblings, or one of Micah’s attempts at being “friendly.”

I honestly liked Micah even less when he was nice.

Dipping my hand into the river, I cupped some cool water in my palm and washed the grime off my face, suddenly feelin’ much more refreshed at the sensation.

It had been a long time since I was last in the wilderness all by myself, and as much as I missed Eddie’s company already, I couldn’t deny that I appreciated the solitude. Somethin’ about being alone with no one else but my horse just gave me peace of mind, and the longer I lingered here, the less I wanted to return to camp.

Though, I had to confess: I did miss Dutch and Hosea a little. Even if we didn’t always see eye-to-eye. They were like fathers to me, after all. Despite how much we argued sometimes.

Sure, Dutch had been actin’ a bit crazy recently, and things only seemed to be getting worse between him and Hosea...but in the end, we was family. We was a team. There was a strange, deformed love holdin’ us reprobates together, and I just hoped that our escape from the Pinkertons and civilization wouldn’t tear that apart.

I supposed only time would tell.

Standing up from the ground, I wiped the water off my hands and prepared to mount up, only to freeze mid-action when the sound of someone cocking a gun reached my ears.

A familiar, raspy voice greeted me from behind, sending chills down my spine.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, Arthur Morgan,” they growled. “Wanna take a midnight stroll with me?”

Raising my hands in the air, I moved at the speed of a sloth and hesitantly glanced over my shoulder, peering at the face behind the gun as my heart came to a halt.

“...Colm O’Driscoll?” I muttered. “The hell you doin’ out here?”

Before he could respond, my horse started to whinny nervously as a second pair of footsteps emerged from the shadows, their shoes crunching the grass underneath them as a man whom I’d never seen before came into view.

I flicked my eyes to the side, absolutely perplexed by this new face.

This son-of-a-bitch had to be one of the craziest lookin’ fellers I’d ever seen in my life...and that was sayin’ something.

This man had skin so pale to the point where he looked sickly, and it only made the balding red hair on his head stand out even more. He had clearly made some sad attempt to slick it back and tidy it up, but regardless, multiple strands refused to stay in place and stuck out in wild angles, adding to his insane temperament.

Despite his messy hair however, the man actually had quite a groomed beard and wore a black, three-piece suit along with a golden chain hangin’ off the vest...but his clothes didn’t match any of the O’Driscolls I’d seen.

The part about him that really caught my attention though, was the old wound on his face. There was a ghastly scar tearin’ straight through his right eye, forcing it closed and rendering the poor bastard half-blind. Meanwhile, the other one was surrounded by dark circles and crow’s feet, enhancing the nightmarish grin he sported as he examined me.

Just who the hell was this maniac?

“Sorry, partner,” he apologized insincerely, sounding lazy but surprisingly articulate. “I hate to bring weapons to a...civilized discussion, but I hear you aren’t the type to cooperate.”

I scoffed, holding my ground. “Most people aren’t when you aim a gun at their head.”

He chuckled. “True enough. But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep those guns up...just as a precaution.”

“And who are you?” I asked, my eyes following his every move. “You an O’Driscoll?”

The man shook his head. “Nah...not an O’Driscoll. Though, truth be told, my name don’t matter much, anyway. Usually, it’s the scars people remember me by.”

I gestured to the faded gash. “How’d you get ‘em?”

He paused for a second, seemingly puzzled by my question as he tilted his head in confusion.

After a moment of thinking though, the man let out an abrupt laugh once it clicked and grinned even wider in realization.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about my scars...” he corrected, pointing a finger at me.

His expression sparked with a wicked excitement.

“...I was talking about yours.”

Giving me no time to react, Colm suddenly bashed the grip of his revolver into the back of my head and knocked me out cold, causin’ the world around me to go dark as a hoarse chortle escaped him and my vision doubled.

There was no one around to help me right now, and before I could do anything to fight back, I could already feel the roughness of a rope wrapping itself around my wrists and ankles.

Shit. What the hell had I gotten myself into now?

The two bastards lifted me onto another horse, mounting up as they carried me away to wherever they pleased.

“...You’re ours now, Morgan,” Colm whispered in my ear, his voice echoing in my head as he watched me slip out of consciousness. “And ain’t no one savin’ you this time...”

From Eddie’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

Pouring myself a cup of fresh coffee, I took the warm mug into my hands and sat down in the living room, quietly reading the newspaper as I prepared for the day ahead.

I couldn’t lie. It felt strange not waking up on the ground with Bullet drooling above me, and it felt even stranger to not have Arthur by my side.

I had spent so long traveling with that mysterious man by now that, I actually considered it a privilege to sleep in the same place I woke up in. And I had only been doing this for a month or so. I couldn’t imagine how he felt.

Still, it was nice to be back in the heart of civilization again, despite all the bad memories stalking me here. I doubted I’d be able to revive my career as a performer at the Râleur again, considering how erratic my schedule had become, but there had to be some work for me around town.

I recalled the bartender at the Bastille saying they needed a new pianist, and with my newfound “gunslinging” skills, perhaps there was a chance I could also hunt down a bounty on my own. Though, I had to admit, that wasn’t my first option. I wasn’t nearly as experienced as Arthur, and I didn’t want to get myself killed chasing after a handful of money.

I guessed the Bastille would have to do for now.

Finishing my coffee, I put the mug down and wandered over to the coat rack, preparing to leave. If there was an opportunity for me to get a new job, I wanted to seize it as soon as possible. There were only so many outlaws I could chase if I needed extra money, and as much as I enjoyed the spontaneous nature of the wilderness, I couldn’t deny that stability offered much more comfort. And at the moment, that was what I needed.

Swinging the front door open, I headed out into the crisp morning weather as Bullet greeted me with a welcoming neigh, his tone oddly a tad more agitated than usual. I supposed I wasn’t the only one struggling to adjust to city life.

Just as I began to descend the porch’s steps however, I was presented with a peculiar scene and noticed a lone hat sitting on the ground...just waiting for me to find it.

The hat looked like someone had intentionally positioned it there, and the longer I stared at it, the more my blood turned to ice as I realized who it belonged to.

...Arthur.

Gulping out of fear, I cautiously knelt down and picked up the item, revealing a torn note lying underneath. It didn’t resemble Arthur’s handwriting -- at least, compared to what I saw on his portrait of me -- and there was an unnerving set of initials scribbled at the bottom. No immediate names jumped to mind at the sight of them, but something about the way they were written, and the distant bells they rang in my head just...made me feel uneasy.

I brought the note into my grasp, reading the short message that had been inked onto the surface:

“Come to Caliban’s Seat within twenty-four hours, or next time, I’ll be delivering his head. Hope to see you there, Theodore. -RK”

I froze out of terror, unable to stop myself from shivering like a puppy in the rain as my heart stopped beating altogether.

The only people who called me Theodore were the ones trying to kill me. And the only person I could think of who had those initials...was Rodrick Kingsley. One of Atticus Rose’s most valued gang members.

Despite being nothing but a group of sick, rotten degenerates, Atticus and his men were the equivalent of a dysfunctional family that, for some reason, just couldn’t rip itself apart. They always had each other’s backs and yet, they were also one argument away from stabbing them.

I had seen how much faith Atticus put into his gang...and I had seen just how close they really were.

If Rodrick was here, that meant Atticus was with him.

And they were going to kill Arthur.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #oc #fanfic #story

8 notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 7 years ago

Text

Kitchen Dancing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Valentines Day is near and Y/N’s had a rough week. All she wants to do is let off some steam. [FLUFF]

This was requested in an anonymous ask.

Word Count: 2,837 - One Shot

The playlist was very important in this, so I thought I’d share.

PLAYLIST

“Are you sure I can’t just kill this asshole?” Bucky spoke into his comms as he effortlessly climbed up the fire escape and started jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Despite his large stature, his jumps and movement were completely silent.

“Fury says we need this man alive.” Steve confirmed.

“And don’t flatter yourself, Barnes.” Clint chimed in on the comms. “If this were a simple sniper job, I’d be handling it…not you.”

Bucky smirked at the job, lifting his body onto the roof of another building that wasn’t even with the last one. “Oh, yeah? Is that a challenge?”

“Yeah. That’s a challenge.” Clint chimed back.

“Alright, Frosty. You’re coming up on the building. It’s on the 7th floor.” Sam spoke.

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he slowed his run and looked at the building across his street. “I looked at the debriefing and I’m positive it said 6th floor.”

“You just can’t take my direction, can you?” Sam snapped back.

“I can take it if it’s right.” Bucky retorted with a smile. Messing with Sam would always be fun for him.

Suddenly his comms were rustling with the sound of Sam and Steve arguing. The bits and pieces he caught made it clear that Steve was snapping at Sam for always giving Bucky a hard time.

“He started it!” Sam defended.

Bucky swore he heard Clint sighing and groaning in the background.

“Alright. I’m going quiet.” Bucky announced, making his annoyance clear. Then he pressed the button on the earpiece and it went silent.

He did truly believe that the report said 6th floor. But he imagined Sam had the mission report in front of him, unlike Bucky. So he shrugged his shoulders and backed up to get a running start to jump to the apartment building.

----

Y/N had another ridiculously terrible day. No, she had a terrible week. But Friday had finally arrived.

It had already started off rocky when her girlfriends canceled the dinner and bar hopping they planned for an early Galentine’s Day celebration. Y/N was sad she wouldn’t have a much needed girls’ night out. But canceled plans always gave her a sick sense of relief and knowing she could completely vedge out on her own was never a bad thing. Y/N didn’t mind staying in and binging a show or watching movies.

One of the perks of living alone was the lack or requirement to wear pants. She was also free to act like a total weirdo.

Y/N jumped out of the shower and put on an oversized grey sweatshirt that was ripped at the neck and fell off her shoulders. It made her feel like she was in ‘Flashdance’. She didn’t bother adding pants to the outfit, deciding just to put on black boy-shorts to wear underneath.

Y/N had a playlist for days like this: where she just wanted to dance and sing her heart out. She’d already tested the soundproofing of her walls time and time before. No one had complained about these kinds of nights yet.

Could Y/N sing? Absolutely not. Did that stop her? Never.

But she only let her lungs go free when there was no witnesses or any chance of someone hearing her.

Could she dance? She liked to think so. In fact, Y/N was convinced she danced even better when there was no one around to watch.

Y/N turned up the volume on her stereo and started skipping around for a warmup. She went to her fridge and tried to take inventory to brainstorm ideas for what to make. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw leftover Indian food that she had yet to eat. That’s when she decided that she’d make cookies real quick for dessert before heating up her leftovers in the microwave.

Y/N squealed in delight when one of her favorite songs started playing. She slowed down her singing, swaying her hips to the beat. Then her hand found the spatula and decided to use it as a mic.

She sang to her heart’s desire, not giving a crap about how awful she sounded. It was all so cathartic after such a bad week of work.

Making the cookies took twice as long with all of the singing and dancing breaks between steps in the recipe. But Y/N didn’t mind.

After a few songs, she slipped the tray into the oven and put a timer on.

----

Bucky should’ve known something was wrong when he heard the music playing. But he kept moving and used the loud noises to his advantage when he slowly raised the window from the fire escape of the apartment.

Their mission was to bring in a retired arm’s dealer. He’d sold billions of dollars worth of weapons to countries with evil intentions. The man had been out of operation for years. But there were rumors he still had contacts in the world and the Avengers needed specific information about one of his old friends.

Bucky had the most experience with extractions. So he happily took on the solo mission.

Now here he was in full combat gear, with half a dozen knives hidden across his body, three handguns, 4 grenades, and a rifle in his grip. His target had a history of intense military training and Bucky had been warned that he wouldn’t get taken without a fight. So Bucky dressed for battle.

But it all seemed ridiculous when he stopped and took in the interior of the apartment.

“God-fucking-damn-it, Wilson.” Bucky muttered underneath his breath. It took him all of one second to put together that he was in the wrong apartment. This was the last time he let Sam give the orders, especially on stealth operations like this one.

Bucky was about to turn around and leave just as quickly as he arrived. But then he heard her voice and couldn’t help but be stunned and frozen in his place.

There was a girl dancing in the connected kitchen, singing as loud as she wanted.

Bucky’s heart thumped in his chest as he realized how beautiful she was.

Then his cheeks went red when he realized how inappropriate it was that he was standing there watching this girl while she thought she was in the comfort of her own home. She wasn’t wearing any pants and the oversized sweatshirt kept sliding further down her shoulder as she moved her body. Bucky felt guilty when he admitted to himself that he wouldn’t mind if it went a bit lower.

The girl clearly couldn’t sing. But her lack of care was what mesmerized Bucky so much. He couldn’t remember when he had relaxed and enjoyed himself as much as this girl was currently doing.

Where she lacked in singing, she made up in dancing. Her hips moved perfectly to the music and they were more controlled than most women Bucky saw at bars and clubs he was dragged to these days.

Bucky was brought of his hypnosis when his earpiece got brought back to life without his consent. Steve must have hacked it back on somehow.

“What’s your status, Bucky?” Steve asked calmly.

“That idiot gave me the wrong floor!” Bucky hissed in a whisper.

But his luck had run out.

Because as soon as he whispered, there was a lull in between songs and his voice was much louder than he intended. So much for being the world’s deadliest assassin.

The girl heard his whisper and whipped around.

To his surprise, she didn’t scream. Maybe she was too petrified to verbally react. Her eyes widened. The playlist must have been over, because another song didn’t come on and it left them in an awfully awkward silence.

Bucky couldn’t feel worse for this poor girl. He was standing in her living room with enough weapons to take out a small army. How on earth was he supposed to explain the situation to her?

But to his surprise, she was the one that spoke first.

“Look. I jaywalked earlier today. But fuck… I don’t think I deserve the Winter Soldier coming into my home to assassinate me.” She slowly held up her hands in surrender. Then her eyes glanced down as if she just realized she was just in her underwear. “If you’re going to kill me, can I at least put on some pants? I really don’t want my friends and family to find my body like this.”

If she really did think he was here for her, how could this girl possibly be making jokes?

Bucky blinked rapidly and completely lowered his gun. “I’m-I’m so sorry.” He stuttered. “I’m in the wrong place.”

Y/N lowered her hands now, convinced that he was telling the truth and really was in the wrong place. “I thought you were one of the good guys now.”

Bucky’s eyes went to her ceiling now that he knew his target was right above them. “I am.”

The reality of the situation seemed to finally catch up to her then. She smacked herself in the face. “God, you fucking nerd. The Winter Soldier just saw you dancing around and singing in your underwear like a total loser.” She muttered under her breath.

“Actually, I found it rather entertaining.” Bucky smirked.

Her jaw dropped, not meaning for him to hear that.

“Sorry again. But I got to go.” Bucky winked at her and slipped out the window.

Y/N was still standing in the same place with her mouth hanging open. Then she heard a heavy scuffle above her. If no one could hear her singing and dancing, she could only imagine the fight that was happening for it to be so audible.

A few minutes later, the shuffling stopped and she heard the sound of a helicopter far too loud for it to be at a normal height.

Y/N sprinted to the window and leaned her head out.

The helicopter was hovering just above her apartment building’s rooftop. It was too dark to make out the faces inside. But Y/N caught the moon reflecting off the metal arm of the Winter Soldier. He was hanging out the edge of the helicopter. It was dark and maybe she was imagining it, but Y/N swore he was looking down at her too.

She stayed put, watching the helicopter fly away. The oven timer finally broke her out of the daze and made her jump. She rushed to the oven and took out the pan. But then she stared at the cookies in front of her for way too long.

The Winter Soldier was just standing in her living room.

----

A few days later, Y/N was once again alone in her apartment. This time, she was wearing sweatpants and the music wasn’t blasting.

Instead, she opted for binge watching some TV.

It was Valentine’s Day, meaning she was trying to fight off any negative feelings that usually accompanied the holiday for single people.

Y/N was taking a sip of wine when she heard someone knock on her door. Her entire body tensed. No one could get into the building without buzzing her apartment first. It could be one of her neighbors. But they rarely knocked on her door, let alone at this time of night. She’d already ordered pizza, so it wasn’t takeout.

So Y/N slowly got off the couch and tiptoed to the door, making sure not to step on any floorboards that made noise. She finally made it to the door and looked through the peep-hole. She covered her mouth before a gasp could escape.

Not only was the Winter Soldier standing on the other side of the door, but he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

A part of Y/N wanted to sprint into her bed and hide under the covers. But another part, a stronger part, was curious enough to undo all the locks on her door. It looked like a different man than the one that had snuck into her apartment.

Instead of his combat gear and accessories of weapons, Bucky was standing in civilian clothes: wearing black jeans, combat boots, a white t-shirt and a motorcycle jacket. The outfit made him look even more handsome.

“Hi.” He greeted innocently.

“Hi.” She replied quietly. “Now are you here to kill me?”

Bucky couldn’t help but let out an awkward laugh. He scratched the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding the flowers. “No, I’m not here to kill you.” Then he took in her outfit. “But I see you’re wearing pants. That’s good that you’re more prepared this time.”

Y/N smiled at his joke.

Bucky sighed. “I just came back to properly apologize. My teammate gave me the wrong floor. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I’m sorry for barging into your home. I’m even more sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m guessing you eventually got the right guy.” Y/N’s eyes glanced up at the ceiling. “Should I be concerned? Was there a meth lab above me?”

Bucky chuckled at her joke. “No. Definitely no meth lab. Just a dangerous, retired arms-dealer.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” Then he looked down at the bouquet. “I-I didn’t know how else to apologize. So I got these for you.”

“Wow. Buying flowers for a stranger on Valentine’s Day? The Winter Soldier really is as brave as they say.” But she took them regardless.

“Ha.” Bucky blushed. “Well, I figured you’d be out with your boyfriend. The plan was to leave them with an apology note if you didn’t answer the door.”

“Well…that was quite the roundabout way to ask if I had a boyfriend. But thank you for reminding me that I don’t. It’s not like the entire day hasn’t been filled with constant reminders.” Y/N replied with sarcasm so thick that Bucky couldn’t help but smirk guiltily. But she continued. “Which also explains my current attire and the two bottles of wine I bought for myself tonight.” Y/N laughed and looked down at her sweatpants and t-shirt.

Bucky nodded slowly and looked at the ground. He never expected to get this far so he didn’t really know what to do next. Y/N had dealt with him enough. He apologized now it was time to leave her in peace.

But while Bucky was going through this mental battle, Y/N was taking him in. She’d read the stories about him. Everyone had.

Yes, she was alone on Valentine’s Day. But seeing one of the world’s greatest heroes go to a complete stranger’s house to apologize seemed like a sign of loneliness. Y/N saw him shift his weight, rub the back of his neck again, and glance around the hallway.

She knew he was trying to figure out a way to leave. But she also couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t really want to.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any plans tonight either…” Her voice showed a new softness, the sarcasm completely gone now.

Bucky laughed embarrassingly. “No. I definitely don’t have plans. Just sort of wanted to ride my motorcycle around the city, to be honest.” He cringed slightly, like he just now realized that could sound pathetic.

“That seems really nice, actually.” Y/N smiled warmly. “Listen, I have a giant pizza that I’ve barely made a dent in and plenty of alcohol to share.” Was she really doing this? “Would you like to come in?”

“You went from thinking I was going to assassinate you to openly inviting me into your home.” Bucky pointed out.

“Valentine’s Day fucking sucks, okay? The longer I’m alone, the more likely I’m going to spiral down into a mess of self-pity. I’ll start thinking there’s a reason I’m single…that there’s something wrong with me. So really, you’d be doing me a favor by keeping my company.”

Bucky’s eyes seemed to brighten. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Then Y/N stepped back and opened her door wider. Then she laughed, “Oh, I’m Y/N by the way.”

Bucky closed his eyes in embarrassment. How could he forget to introduce himself? His mother was probably turning in her grave. “I actually knew that.”

Y/N looked weirded out. “You did?”

“Yeah, I made Tony give me the information on the building and apartment unit to bring the flowers. I saw your name. Don’t worry, I didn’t do a background check or anything. Oh god. I’m rambling.”

Her jaw dropped. “Tony…as in Tony Stark?”

Bucky sighed, utterly frustrated with himself. “Yeah. That one.”

Y/N tried to hide her giggle. His awkwardness was honestly endearing.

Bucky squinted. “Can we start over?” She nodded.

He held out his hand. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

She slid her hand into his large grip. “It’s nice to meet you Bucky. I’m Y/N.”

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

-----

Thanks to the anon who requested this. I thought it was really funny and cute.

And here’s that playlist again:

PLAYLIST

#marvel fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky one shot #marvel one shot #kitchen dancing

1K notes · View notes

koganphrancis · 7 years ago

Photo

Ian Used To Do Better Stuff With Vans OR There’s Another Hour Of My Life I Won’t Get Back

This episode was dumb dumb dumb as fuck-and even more pointless than that. The ONLY redeeming quality in it was that it was completely Terror-free. Read on, if you dare. My recap of Season H8 Episode Dear God Why Isn’t It Over Yet-or 11, if you want to keep it short.

As usual, I’ll get the others out of the way as quickly as I possibly can.

Carl’s still illegally under-aged married, and this week he tells Kasammi, “I don’t think there’s any skin left on my dick.” Yeah, they made that point last year when they had to keep taking it off after his misguided circumcision. Not that the show is referring to THAT, of course. They refuse to acknowledge any plot point that has gone before. He and Kas take a wild tour through his before the show started past and I have no idea what the point is-is it to show us she’s truly insane because none of the horrors of life on the mean streets scare her? Or to show us that Generation Z doesn’t experience reality because their whole lives have been instantly posted on screens of electronic devices? I don’t know and I don’t care-quit trying to be fake deep, Shameless, if you even are. I can’t tell. The only (maybe) pertinent point of Carl’s story this week is he tells Kasammi after her hundredth shit fit on the subject that he won’t go back to military school and in the previews for next week it looks like the family (or at least Frank) will try to help him sneak away to do just that. Yawn.

Debbie loses three toes-Frank chops them off for her. Before that, Debbie is shown signing her 16 year old self out of the hospital-WHAT? She’d need a parent or guardian for that. Anyway, apparently Debbie’s not on any kind of welfare or insurance. And doesn’t know that Ian could’ve gotten the money for her expensive surgery to attempt to save the toes by going down on the old couple just twice. What is it with this show and cutting off toes? They’ve done this before with the body they got to stand in for Aunt Ginger. I’m so sick of the recycled plot points!

Speaking of which-Snore’s old man is out of prison so Lip gets him to fight him to violate his parole and send him back-did this new writer guy not see Yevgeny’s christening episode or is he just really into plagiarism? It was such a fizzle to a going nowhere story to begin with. I think the guy playing Snore’s version of Terry even had some of the same lines but I’m too lazy to rewatch and try to catch them. If we were supposed to hate this guy like we hate Terry, it didn’t work. And Lip was no Mickey showing up to defend people that mean something to him either-it was all a weak as fuck imitation. And it was odd that Lip chose to call the guy out for “beating women” when he lets himself get beaten when he has sex with Eddy. Who the fuck is he to judge? Maybe ten year old Snore didn’t get that her parents were having consensual rough sex that got too violent and ended in death-but the show’s not that deep.

Snore’s telling of her mother’s death once again played like someone complaining about not getting the last bottle of nail polish in their favorite shade at Walgreens or something. If she’s been so traumatized that she can’t put any emotion into the horrific memories that’s fine, but then I would argue that she wouldn’t be terrified of her dad coming after her either. Snore just can’t emote OR imagine what it would be like to be in that setting, I’m sorry.

And here’s what had me super pissed-Snore tells Lip she was 10 when her mom was killed in front of witnesses (Snore and her brother-she specifically says they both testified against him) and her dad’s already out on parole? We don’t know how old Snore is now, but surely no older than 25 (and probably not even that old, but whatever), so the show is saying her dad got out in 15 years max, which is the time Mickey was sentenced to for NOT killing Sammi? Fuck off.

Also, why would the cops not even consider the father’s side of the story that Lip instigated the fight? Lip has Eddy’s niece record the fight on his phone, and after it’s over he goes over to her and asks her how it looks or whatever, and she says Snore’s father threw the first punch. Wouldn’t the cops question why a little girl was filming two men on a porch BEFORE a fight started? Snore’s father must have Mickey’s public defender for a lawyer. Fucking show should’ve shocked us all by having Lip get locked up for premeditated assault.

Fiona meets with a lawyer (Janice from Friends, but she’s not as funny in this, sadly) and as soon as she said Fiona could lose both the apartment building and the Gallagher house I knew that storyline had jumped the shark and somehow next week all will be miraculously fixed-no way will the Gallaghers ever lose the house, that’s another plot point that’s been done to death. At first I was thinking they’ll either come up with some fortuitous traffic camera footage showing that the guy jumped off the roof intentionally, or that Hugh Laurie would show up in a cameo as Dr. House and say that if a man “fell” off a roof that high, he’d have a hell of a lot more damage than one broken ankle, but no, the show isn’t going to even get that clever-they’re just gonna have the family cave and be willing to settle with Fiona if they get custody of her dog that suddenly she’s so worried about in this week’s episode. She’s never shown that level of concern for any of her siblings.

Frank has a tedious, boring couple of scenes about his “retirement plan”-he has a baggie of 3 stolen Social Security cards and anyone can see a mile off that the cards would’ve just been replaced by their original owners-they’re not like a set of fingerprints and you only get one for life and if you lose it someone else has your entire identity. THEN they set up next week’s recycled/stolen plot to have Liam and Frank rip off Liam’s rich friend’s family just like Carl and Frank ripped off Liam and Carl’s gay foster dads-it didn’t work then, it won’t work now (and why didn’t Frank do hard time for that grand theft?).

Svetlana and Vee and Kevin have a scene at a fancy (but not as fancy as the show was trying to tell us it was) bar that was a pathetic echo of both Ian and Mickey’s hotel bar scam AND of how funny the show used to be able to be. Later Svet goes to humble herself to the other hand whore to find out how she snagged a rich fiance and discovers that the dude she’s about to marry is senile as fuck and Svet is going to step in to replace her, which is what I predicted the first time the hand whore showed up. I will give Shameless credit for making me laugh unintentionally-since I’ve been picturing the “old rich dude” Svet was going to wind up with as John Wells’ fantasy version of himself, seeing the old dude in an adult diaper and thinking he’s Wells was very satisfying.

Do I finally get to Ian now? Do I have to talk about his bullshit? There’s a scene of him in bed alone while the newlyweds are having sex in the same room, signalling that he’d rather be there than at Terror’s house, LOL. Then it’s the next morning and he goes down to breakfast with his Bible in hand, but no pills. Is that supposed to be significant? We may never know...

He gets to the “Church Of Gay Jesus” and there’s so many “fans” there it’s like Beatles or One Direction footage. The minister guy gets through the crowd to him with a big young guy and tells Ian the rando is “Bic” and he wants to help (I didn’t know the guy’s name till I saw it in the closing credits, I really thought his name was “Dick” and they were making a “big dick” joke, but no, I guess they were making a “Bic lighter” joke instead). Ian and Bic instantly have more chemistry than Ian and Terror but it’s unintentional I’m sure-the actor playing Bic probably has taken acting classes and knows to look an acting partner in the eye, instantly making him more engaged than Terror’s ever been in a scene.

The minister guy tells Ian, “Your life is no longer your own.” Which first of all, I’m just not buying that all these youths have just been waiting for a messiah to show up and they’ll follow him anywhere, and secondly why was being with Mickey not Ian anymore, but he’ll give away his entire life for strangers? Fuck you, Shameless. (and speaking of his entire life, does he never have to go to work anymore? Also, Fiona turned him down when he asked for a ride to the church-for once she had a good reason, that she had to pick up Debbie-but why is the show acting like Fi does things for him all of the sudden? She DID give him a ride last week, and that was very OOC of her.)

There’s a kid trying to get Ian’s attention-he needs help getting away from his parents who have hired men to get him back. At some point in the proceedings some guys jump out of a van and drag the kid into it. Ian runs to the front of the van before it can pull away and goes all Chris Pratt in Jurassic Park, holding up his arms and not letting it advance. The unintentional humor here amused me no end. Then Ian lays down in front of the van and I actually said aloud to my TV, “Just run him over.” I’m that done with this storyline and this show-just kill Ian off at this point, it’d be a mercy.

Ian’s there on the ground with his arms thrown up over his head (not that the driver could even see him down there, right in front of the van) and we see that this time Shameless didn’t bother covering up Cam’s real life Sailor Moon tattoo. SO LAZY. All the other kids lay down around the van too so it can’t go anywhere The 3 dudes in the van give up and let the kid get out.

The kid is 14 and the minister guy tries to talk sense into Ian, saying the parents have a legal right to their kid and they, more specifically Ian, can’t keep the kid. Ian agrees to talk to the kid’s dad who tells him the parents aren’t bigots, they don’t care that their son’s not heterosexual, but he’s been living on the streets, doing drugs, and prostituting himself. Then the father says, “We believe he may be mentally ill,” and Cameron (and yes, I mean Cameron, not Ian) makes a reaction face to that, but what it means, again, nobody knows.

Ian goes to talk to the kid where they have him hidden away in the Mickey Wedding Venue basement. Ian tells him what the father told him, and the kid says they keep bringing him to a church (is that Ian’s trigger? Churches? and if so, why?), plus they have him see shrinks who have put him on meds that knock him on his ass and he can’t get an erection. He adds, “That’s what they really want-so I can’t have sex with another boy, you know? Ever.” Ian says, “Well you can’t stay here. You have to find someplace where you can be safe, where you can be yourself.” WHAT? I don’t understand. For one thing, isn’t that LITERALLY TERROR’S JOB? To take runaways and provide them with a safe place to stay and a plan to get their lives back on terms that they can live with? I don’t ever want to have to side with Terror, but this episode is basically saying that Terror’s way is right and Ian’s way is oh so wrong and misguided. What the fuck? Secondly, isn’t that what Ian THINKS he’s doing? Why is he telling the kid HE has to find someplace safe? Ian has literally been in this kid’s shoes-he knows there’s no safe places for someone even younger than he was when he got back from the army, living on the streets. Anyway, after Ian’s lines the kid says, “Will you help me?” but Ian doesn’t answer one way or the other.

I totally didn’t get this scene-why the writer had Ian say nothing. I could see if it was to show Ian was getting more and more manic and now is on the downside of that and is becoming too depressed to speak to people-but then where’s his energy for doing anything coming from, plus the story isn’t SAYING he’s manic or depressed, and Cam and John Wells said Ian’s storyline is bold, audacious, great, etc and I don’t think either of them would’ve said those things if the payoff is just going to be that Ian needed his meds adjusted. And why does Ian maybe believe what the kid is saying and not the dad? Again, this IS Ian’s story! Mentally ill, unable to help himself, and unwilling to take his pills! I wondered why Ian didn’t at least give him a version of the Monica “you don’t have to change for them” speech, or his own “you don’t have to fix me because I’m not broken” speech or why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t he tell the kid, “I’ve been exactly where you are-on meds that were supposed to help but made me feel like crap plus I couldn’t get it up-but that’s because they take time-you need to take them to get stable and then you’ll find what works for you and have no problems having sex again (since apparently Ian’s never had an issue since beating Mickey up at the dugouts).” AND the kid’s only 14-does Ian maybe want to advise him that feeling like he needs to be having sex that young to the point where he’s willing to run away and do it with anyone might be part of his symptoms?

Ian COULD be so helpful here, but no. At this point he is literally putting at risk kids at even greater risk.

Later Rando Bic shows Ian that the van’s back behind the church. Ian says, “Get the kid,” like he’s The Penguin and Bic’s his trusty lieutenant. It was so dumb. The kid is used as bait, and when the 3 guys jump out of the van Ian pops up behind the group and starts yelling. “My god’s a faggot! My god’s a dyke! My god is trans, a junkie, a whore!’ Then the van blows up. “We will not be victims!”

What the hell is he on about? That’s a serious question. None of this is making sense. God isn’t human, so Ian giving the Christian god human attributes makes no sense. “We won’t be victims” of WHAT? Gay conversion? This kid’s dad said he isn’t trying to convert his gay son. What is all the yelling and the explosion about? And to get back to the explosion for a moment: That had to be Ian’s brilliant plan, and it just makes me miss Mickey talking him down from stupid shit like that all the more. Bic is the one that actually lights the fire (get it? BIC?) but how did they even know that all 3 guys would get out of the van this time? Based on the first failed attempt to drive off with the kid, wouldn’t it make more sense that one of the guys would stay at the wheel and keep the van running and they’d take off the minute they shoved the kid inside before all of Ian’s disciples could block it again? Before I rewatched the scene this morning I actually wondered if the story is going to be Ian is guilty of killing one of the guys, but then I saw it again and all 3 did get out-but I still don’t think Bic could’ve seen them from where he snuck around to light it up. And I bet we don’t see Bic again-he was randomly thrown in because of course Terror wouldn’t have helped Ian carry out any plan that wasn’t his own. But it’s funny that they couldn’t have him in the episode because everyone, even the shitty writers, know there’s no way Terror could talk Ian out of it like Mickey would be able to.

In the scenes for next week, Terror shows up and asks, “Is Ian around?” and Debbie answers, “He’s not here.” Terror says, “There’s a warrant out for his arrest.” Wouldn’t the cops have gone to Ian’s house FIRST? Where would they have even found Terror to be asking about Ian since Ian doesn’t officially work for the Youth Center or the Church of Gay Jesus. More lazy writing, can’t wait for the whimpering end to this crapfest of a season.

#Spoilers #Recap #Season H8 Episode 11 #Disco isn't dead but that van sure is #Ian had his first Mickey kiss in a van #Ian gave Mickey a Spiderman kiss in a van after a night of fucking fantastic sex #In a van #Ian should know to show a van respect

21 notes · View notes