#in his words: ‘he’s a dumbo but at least he can fight now’

[sailforvalinor]

Trying to convince my twelve-year-old brother that Kalmar becoming a Gray Fang is not the anime power-up he thinks it is is proving more…difficult than expected

[ramp-it-up]

All I Want

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Summary: Steve has left you alone for a week with no explanation. Will you let him back into your life?

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. A lot of FLUFF Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. A slap on the face, organized crime, implied violent retaliation, Bucky’s arm injury implied, Steve simping for reader, reader watching porn, sloppy toppy, gagging, swallowing, coached masturbation, oral (m/f receiving) fingering, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is a bonus for  #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask and any other requests for a part 2 to Try a Little Tenderness. Here it is babes, I hope you like it as much as the first part. Happy New Year! 🍾

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Sam came, and he watched as you paced in your closed store the first day after the dust up at DUMBO. He told you minimal information, just that Bucky was alive and that he was going to stay there per Steve’s ‘request’ until he asked him to leave.

“I’m opening my store today.”

“No. You are not.”

Sam was usually nice, with that beautiful smile on display whenever he picked up Steve’s gifts. But now, he was steadfast.

You were hot. Not only at Steve for not telling you the whole story, but at everyone.

You couldn’t just sit around all day. You walked up to Sam and stood toe to toe.

“Take off that expensive jacket.”

You had an apron with the store logo in your hand.

Hours later, Sam took a break from helping you do store inventory to take a call. You kept working as he stepped into the back room. Then, you walked back to listen.

You peeked around your corner to see Sam letting out a sigh of relief.

“Good. At least that’s progress? He squeezed your hand?”

He paused.

“I know he has a long way to go, but you know Buck’s a fighter.”

“…Yes. Steve. I’m trying, but you know she’s stubborn…She’s okay. She’s a pistol, and she’s working me to death. She’s pissed at you though. At all of us. Yeah… I don’t think I can protect you from that. I’ll tell her it will be a while…”

You went back to your spreadsheet feeling some kind of way. Steve had time to call Sam, but not you. Okay.

Sam stepped out of the back room.

“Bucky’s alive. He was very badly injured, his left arm is…”

Sam paused, looking at you warily.

You looked back at him relieved, yet anxious at the same time.

“Let’s just say that he has a long road.”

You nodded and swallowed.

“What about Steve?”

You hated yourself for asking Sam. You should have been talking to Steve. But you couldn’t help it.

“He’s fine. Just has some… work to do right now.”

Your stomach dropped and you lifted your chin.

“What Steve does with his time has nothing to do with me, Sam. I don’t own him and he certainly does not own me.”

You were ready to fight.

“It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Steve’s fine, Bucky’s alive. So you can go now.”

You looked him in the eye so that he could get the message.

Sam shook his head.

“That’s not gonna happen Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“Tell your Boss that I’m sending you back.”

Sam advanced upon you, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Learn this, Y/N. Steve’s not my Boss. He’s my friend, and just like Bucky, he’s my partner. I'm doing him a favor making sure you’re alright. That’s what friends do. You can’t send me back.”

You two stared at each other. This must be what it was like to have a brother.

“You know you’re very annoying.”

“Same, lady.”

You fought the urge to laugh and wanted to stick your tongue out at him.

“Get back to work. We have the entire stockroom to count.”

Sam shook his head and obliged.

Six days later, on Christmas Eve, the bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. You turned with a smile to greet the customer to see Steve standing there.

It was liked the wind was knocked out of you.

Steve stood there, staring at you, looking very tired, but with those same sparkling blue eyes. And he had the nerve to smile at you.

“Can I have the usual?”

He was a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the week worried and frustrated, in addition to mad as hell. But he looked so damn good.

You walked over to Steve, and gazed up at him as he beamed down on you. You did the only thing you could think to do.

You slapped him.

“How dare you!”

Sam, who was in his apron behind the register, audibly gasped, because it didn’t end well with the last woman who slapped Steve. She’d ended up climbing out of a dumpster where Steve had unceremoniously placed her.

You looked over at Sam.

“Here is your friend, Sam. Talk to him. Because I certainly won’t.”

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he rubbed his face. That fire pent up inside you signaled a need for release. He watched you hungrily as you left, then turned back to Sam.

You stormed upstairs toward your apartment, hearing the beginnings of thier conversation.

“I thought we agreed to keep the store closed, Sam.”

“Well, the store’s owner might have a little to say to that. Have you ever tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do?…”

You went upstairs, straight to the kitchen, reaching for your liquor cabinet. It was only noon, but you needed a drink.

You heard the door open behind you and did not turn around. You heard his steps into the kitchen, but you were immovable.

“Pour me one?”

You reached for a glass and slammed it down on the counter next to you, then poured some Uncle Nearest into it. You still didn’t look at him, but you shivered as he stepped behind you, nearly touching you to reach around for the glass, but only sharing his body heat.

“I deserve your anger, Ambrosia, But at the beginning, I genuinely thought that you knew who I was. I mean….”

You spun around, eyes full of fire, facing down Steve’s desire for you. And there was something else in his eyes. But you launched in nevertheless.

“At no time over dinner, or while you were sweet talking me into bed, did you mention that you were the head of an international crime organization. And then you put my business in danger. And apparently my life???”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his face.

“I know you’re angry, Baby, but you gotta listen to me.”

You closed your mouth and crossed your arms.

Steve’s face softened. At least you weren’t running away.

“I said at the beginning I thought you knew who I was. But then I realized that you didn’t know me as Steve Rogers the big bad dude, I was just that one customer who was sweet on you and sent gifts. And that made me fall for you even more.”

When he said ‘fall for you,’ your eyes went to his.

“Yeah, I said it.”

“Steve…”

You were trying to remain upset, but he was so sincere. Your resolve was weakening.

“Fall for me? You haven’t spoken to me in a week, Steve. You called Sam every day but…”

“I had work to do. Bucky was injured and he was touch and go. And I had to take care of… I had to take care of some things.”

He looked at you and slowed down.

“You had work to do? So did I. But you told me to close my store. You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to call, to text? I figured I didn’t mean as much to you as I thought.” 

You looked down at your dirty chucks, and at Steve’s Ferragamos.

Steve moved closer and tilted your head up by your chin. The electricity from his fingers was almost too much.

“No, Ambrosia.”

Steve’s eyes were wild now, and desperate. He wanted you to understand so badly, but he knew it would seem outlandish.

“You mean so much more. I fell for you because there were no expectations. I kept buying you gifts and you kept sending them back. And I thought you didn’t want me. But then when I asked you on a date and you accepted, I realized that…”

“…That all I want is you.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip. Steve could hardly contain himself.

“I can listen to you, Steve. And I would have listened if you called.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your lips softly. He groaned when you yielded to him, opening your mouth and peeking out your little tongue. He wanted to ravage you, but first, you had to understand.

“You’ve got to know. You’ve got to know that you change me Ambrosia. With you I am a different man. I couldn’t call you because you make me weak.”

Steve kissed your frown and started talking again.

“With you, weak is a good thing. I am gentle, I am kind. I am patient.”

Steve looked into your eyes. 

“I am in love.”

You gasped. 

“Steve…”

“You gotta listen. When I left, all I could think about, besides Bucky, was you. Your smile, your wit, your laugh, your body. How it felt to make love to you. To be inside you. To make you cum. Do you remember, do you remember how it felt?”

You smiled and nodded, playing with the St. Christopher’s medal around his neck.

“Look at me. Do you remember? Use your words.”

You clenched at his command. And you obeyed.

“Yes, Steve. I remember. I was sore for three days.”

Your admission and the new huskiness in your voice made him pull you closer and you could feel the pulsing in his pants. You also felt his heart beating in his chest.

“Fuck, Ambrosia. You make me wanna ruin you again.”

The way you looked at him indicated that you wanted the same. Steve felt his knees almost give out. He chuckled.

“See? You make me weak in the knees. Thoughts of you make me soft. And for what I had to do, I couldn’t be. D’you understand?”

You tried to think rationally. You knew what he was saying without saying it. He had to do horrible things. You watched the news this past week. You knew what Steve was responsible for. But you didn’t care. Bucky was always nothing but kind to you. And he was Steve’s best friend.

You thought about what you would have done in this situation. You looked back up at Steve.

“I understand.”

You bit your lip again.

“And I am still standing here with you because it is too late for me to tell you to leave. I endured Sam sleeping on my couch for a week and protecting me because I love you too, Steve. I think I have been in love with you for months now. And then, last week...”

Your hands moved to slip his jacket off his shoulders, kneading them and feeling the tension there. Steve’s eyes sought yours again.

“You love me too?”

“Yes, are you tired?”

“Exhausted, but… You want me to stay?”

“Yes…”

Your hand was on the outside of Steve’s pants, grasping his hardness and making him groan, knowing that he was leaking in his underwear. His hands moved up your sides and lifted you up to sit on the counter.

He dove into your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you gentle kisses that made you arch your back and your breasts into his chests. Then, he started sucking hickeys into you as his hands came up to knead and grasp you, and to tease your nipples with his thumbs.

“All week I’ve gone to bed and woken up rock hard to visions of you. Didn’t wanna jack off. I need you Ambrosia. Need to see you cum again. Need to bury myself deep inside you. Need for you to hug me in all the ways. Need to see your beautiful body. Need to sleep with you in my arms. I’m tired. Tired of being without you.”

You nuzzled his ear, knowing that the only important thing right now was his need. And yours.

“Sounds like you need me to suck your dick.” 

You felt bold because he wasn’t looking at you.

The man literally growled in your ear and then picked you up, still wrapped around him like a vine, and carried you to your bedroom. He sat you down on your bed and looked down on you as you looked up at him.

“What did you say?”

Steve made sure to hold your head up so you could look him in the eye. Your eyes watered as you licked your lips and took a deep breath.

“I said, I want to suck your dick.”

“That’s… what I thought you said.”

Steve continued to hold your head by your chin, and stuck his thumb in your mouth as he undid his pants. You squirmed as you got wet at the sound of his belt clanging on the floor and sucked his thumb like it was going out of style.

Steve could hardly catch his breath for anticipation and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He looked down at you as he pumped his massively hard cock in your face.

“I want to be very, very rough with you, but I’m not going to hurt you, Baby. You want this?”

Steve moved himself to within an inch of your lips.

“Please…” 

You made to move closer, but he held you fast. You almost felt his dick jump when you saw it. You squirmed again.

“Can you take it?”

You managed to extend your tongue and collect the drops of precum on his tip, making Steve shiver as his blazing eyes looked down on you.

“Fuck my face…”

“Holy!”

Steve grabbed both sides of your head as you opened wide and accepted him into your mouth.

“That hot little mouth, holy shit, Ambrosia. How do you…”

You concentrated and allowed him to push past your tonsils to your throat, then suckled him as he pulled out, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You ran your hands up his sides, tracing his v cut and abs upward under his shirt. Steve scrambled to take it off, and then pulled you off of him to take your shirt off.

“Where did you learn that?”

Steve raised his eyebrow as you grabbed for him again. He tried to be gentle, but you wouldn’t allow it, as you bottomed out again.

This time when you pulled off, gasping you said one word, “Porn,” and then started slurping sloppily again.

Steve stood there, head thrown back as you took his hips and went to town.

“Thank goodness for technology.”

You hummed your agreement, and then went for the gold.

“Ho-ho-holyyyyy. I’m gonna, fuckkkk Ambrosia, I’m gonna…”

You started gagging louder and finally, Steve took your head in order to use your mouth for his pleasure.

“It’s gonna be a lot… “

Steve was looking down on you with lust and you basked in it.

“You gonna swallow?”

You nodded eagerly, as Steve bared his teeth with an effort to hold back. You played with his balls, and he couldn’t anymore.

“Swallow like a good… fucking… girl…”

With those three thrusts, Steve sent a torrent of spend past your lips. You gulped it down and Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He fell to his knees and you hugged him, assenting to his kiss so that he could taste himself on you.

“Thank you for that. Now I can think straight.”

He moved to push you back on the bed. 

“So, my sweet Ambrosia has been watching porn, huh?”

“I missed you Steve. Missed your cock.”

Steve shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve was now taking off your shoes, pants, and panites. He kissed your thighs and spread your legs with his hands. He was looking deep into your intimate parts. 

“My little sweet flower. Still so beautiful. But now she’s so sloppy.”

Those blue eyes looked at you, and your cheeks warmed.

“What happened?”

That deep voice.

“You know, Steve…”

“You like sucking my cock, yeah?”

“Yes, I do. Been dreaming of it.”

Steve grunted. His cock coming back to life at your words.

“You been touching yourself?”

“I have, but nothing compares to you. Didn’t know if I would see you again. Was thinking of getting a toy.”

Steve looked angry for a second.

“Never doubt, as long as I have breath in my body. You will see me again.” 

His eyes flicked down your body, reminding you of possession.

“Show me how you touched yourself. I wanna watch. Will you let me watch you cum?”

You squirmed at the request.

“Ssteeevvveeee!”

“Don’t be shy. Look. I’ll join you.” 

Steve leaned up on his elbow and started stroking his dick, making you wetter than you already were.

You bit your lip and slid your hands from your tits down your sides, one moving back up to play with your nipple, and the other finding your clit. You licked your lips as your fingers played in your slippery slit and lubricated your button. The sound was pornographic as your movements indicated how wet you were.

You watched as Steve opened his mouth and moved his hand faster.

“Put your fingers inside, baby. Pretend they’re mine.”

You shivered as you obeyed and your thumb tuned your body to a marvelous frequency with Steve watching. It was so erotic. You started to cum when Steve started moaning. 

“How pretty. Y’look so pretty getting off. Pretty little fingers in that gorgeous hole. My sweet Ambrosia…”

He was descending toward your center, breath hot on your cunt.  He inhaled deeply, taking in the essence of you.

“Let me be your toy…”

And his lips wrapped around your vibrating clitoris, sliding it between his lips quickly at first, causing you to jump, then, when his strong hands held your thighs open, he suckled it completely into his mouth and used his tongue to try and suck the life out of you.

You screamed and Steve slipped a finger inside your tight hole, thrusting gently at first, and then  adding another finger and becoming more insistent in the quest for your orgasm.

You came very quickly, knees around his head before he pried them off and then held you open. Steve blew on your cunt to extend the sensations, and thrummed your clit while you begged him to stop. The quivers were extended as he came up and sucked your nipples, and pulling his hair only spurred him on longer.

When you finally, finally came down, your hoarse voice complained to, 

“All my stars and heavens, Steve!”

“How can you be so fucking cute and so damn sexy at the same time. My dream girl.”

Steve kissed your forehead as you grabbed his cock and started pumping.

“Gimme.”

Steve tried to frown at you.

“So demanding.”

“Steve please.”

“You want this dick?”

Your breathy “Yes!” almost made him almost cum in your hand. 

“You. Are going to be the death of me.”

Steve held your thighs in your hands and pushed them up beside you.

His stiff cock seemed to know the way home as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slid the thick head inside you as you keened as you knew his shaft was almost as thick.

“You okay, Baby?”

“Hnnngh.. Oh Steve…give me more…”

Steve almost exploded at your face and the way you were squeezing him.

“Okay.. I don’t really wanna… hurt…”

“Hurt me pleaseeeee.”

“Shiiiitttttttt.”

Steve slid into your very wet canal and stayed there as you wrapped all of your limbs around him as you got used to his girth again.

“I-I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum… inside… I can’t… you’re gripping me so… so so tight…”

“Mmmmmmghhh! Give me!”

And Steve started moving, slowly at first, and as you urged him on, faster and deeper.

“I had plans for how I was gonna… fuck…”

“Oh my god… Steve, I’m…”

“I wanted to go nice and slow… ohhhhhh…”

When he felt you quiver around him was when he started cumming.

“Fuck! It’s too soon… oh my god you feel so good…”

Steve buried his face into your neck, huffing and puffing as his cum spurted out of him and into your warm goodness. You felt every splash of his hot ejection inside you and briefly considered the consequences.

So did Steve.

“Oh shit, I came inside you.”

Steve looked pretty pleased with himself. You had to laugh.

“I can’t with you, Steve.”

“I believe you just did.”

You both chuckled as he kissed you and collapsed on the bed.

Steve pulled you close.

“Sam is probably down there dealing with customers…still got bills to pay. The lights, the mortgage…”

You were dumping the last thoughts out of your head as you were falling asleep.

“Not the mortgage anymore. Valkyrie bought it from Wells Fargo…”

Steve sighed and kissed you on the forehead, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“Oh, ” You replied as you snuggled closer to him. 

And both of you fell into the warm embrace of deep sleep for an afternoon nap.

READ Part three I WONDER

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[ttorystory]

Mare of Easttown 1x05 Fix it Fic

tv show: Mare of Easttown

pairing: Colin Zabel x Mare Sheehan

spoilers: ep 5 - Illusions

summary: No one except the bad motherf*cker gets killed because we live in a happier world where killing Evan Peter's adorable character is illegal. We can hurt him a lil' bit though. Because we like to suffer-- or at least I do. I'm so sorry. But it's for the bOnDinG reasons, you know.

warnings: shooting, blood, swearing, Colin's cute smile

word count: 1,086

A/N: OH MY GOD, IT'S HAPPENING. I've written my first ever fanfic in English. So it's like, elementary school level of English for which I apologize in advance. BUT I strongly encourage you to let me know about any and every one of my mistakes so I can fix them right away! It'll get better in the next chapters, I promise (I hope). Yes, I do plan a few more chapters. I mean, this is really just a short one, because I wanted to write an ending that episode should have had. But I wanna see Mare visiting Colin in hospital. I wanna see their second date. I wanna see Colin having the future he deserves.

Okay, so that would be all from me for now. If you decide to comment, whether in a positive or a negative way, I will be very grateful. Thank you and enjoy the fic.

“Mare.”

She turns her head towards the quiet call and glances over the table. In a pile of unwashed mugs and other garbage, there is an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and a half-empty pack.

Winstons.

This place is stinking from the very start and her suspicion is growing with every passing second.

“Zabel,” she whispers, reaching to her belt and reminding him there is nothing there, as she is officially still suspended. “No gun.”

It is a signal that it is he who has to be prepared if anything goes down with the odd guy. Her gaze follows the direction he’d gone, awaiting the music to stop. But her colleague quietly addresses her again.

“Mare.”

His hand outstretched, he is handing her his gun. Mare hesitates for a second, but there isn’t much time to discuss the topic, so she just takes it and hides it under her jacket quickly.

Besides, Mare knows it is a good move. She trusts Zabel and she knows he is capable, but he doesn’t have that much experience. God knows if he ever actually used the gun out in the field before. In some situations, it’s either you or the other man, and if you wanna survive you have to act quickly. And this situation? She has a bad fucking feeling about it.

Her intuition is proven right when only minutes later the bastard, Mr. Potts, shoots Zabel. He would have killed him on the spot if she didn’t shoot the man at the exact same time, diverting the bullet.

After a few endless minutes of shooting and fighting, Potts finally drops dead. Mare sinks down to her knees, panting. Those poor girls are screaming upstairs but she knows they can wait a little longer, now there is nothing to cause them any more harm. There is a person though who needs more acute help.

“Zabel!”

Her colleague is half lying on the floor, half leaning on a cupboard, squeezing his left shoulder and shaking. Mare hurries to him, taking her jacket off so she can cover him partially.

“Zabel, it’s over. Help's on the way, okay?”

She takes off her shirt as well and tries to tie it around his shoulder somehow so that the wound would stop bleeding. Zabel groans in pain but holds still.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, panting.

Mare gives her bleeding wrist a quick look. The adrenaline running in her veins caused her to forget the injury. There is probably some small wound on her face as well, but it is nothing compared to the risk Zabel is exposed to at the moment.

“Yeah, well, you’re more hurt. Keep the pressure here,” she says, pressing his palm onto the coverage of the wound. The bleeding seems bad, but the bullet didn't hit any important organ. The police and ambulance will be here in no time. He should be fine. He has to be.

“I knew why-- why I was giving you-- the gun,” Zabel continues through the pain, his eyes looking and their hands pressed on his shoulder.

“Well, there’s gonna be a shitload of paperwork about this mess,” she smirks gloomily. Two officers - one of them off duty - injured, one dead weirdo, two missing girls being held in the attic. Mare brushes some hair away from her face, checking if there is blood on her fingers. This might be the first time she is kinda glad she is suspended.

“Mare, you-- you saved--”

Even though trying to say something, Zabel’s head starts falling to a side as his eyes are slowly about to close. Mare grabs him by the chin immediately.

“Hey, hey, eyes up! Stay with me, Zabel! The ambulance is here in a minute!” she orders, the tone of her voice urgent, while still holding his chin and trying to keep his gaze focused on her face.

A smile appears on the young man’s face.

“‘course I wanna stay with you… Mare.”

She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes in disbelief. “You’re being smooth now?”

That adorable, boy-like smile of his. Giving it to her even while basically fighting the loss of consciousness. What a dumbo. Her lips curl into a faint smile, too.

Glancing away, Mare realizes that girls who had been silent for a while are making hell of a noise again. And she knows why right away - there are police and ambulance sirens roaring nearby, approaching them finally.

Mare moves herself closer to the door so she can kick it more open. Swiftly she returns back to her colleague, whose head and hand are falling, obviously tired, again.

“They’re here, Zabel. You gotta hold on,” she urges him, one hand pressed on his wound, the other slapping his face slightly. She can hear several vehicles stopping outside of the house.

“Look at me, Zabel. Zabel! Colin!”

He mumbles something right just as the police officers and paramedics burst inside and the room around Mare starts to fill up.

Someone helps her to her feet, other people are taking care of Colin. She hears names and ranks, she tells them theirs, and then they are taking her outside, but she has one more important thing to say.

“There’re girls... they’re locked upstairs!” she shouts to the officers, turning backward partially. “Katie! Katie Bailey and…”

“That’s okay, ma’am, they’ll look into it,” a paramedic assures her, as he is guiding her to the ambulance. Mare sees Colin lying on the medical stretches, being taken to the vehicle alongside her.

“You okay?” she asks when he is next to her, even though he is lying with an oxygen mask over his face and eyes barely opened. She looks at the other paramedic. “Will he be fine?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Don’t you fucking dare dying, Zabel!” she says warningly. She thinks she hears him murmur an answer and it calms her down a bit. He just can’t die. He won’t.

She sits where the paramedic tells her to and she lets him treat injuries, not listening to what he is saying to her.

People around her should stop fucking dying.

“Maybe you should lie down?” the man suggests.

“I’m fine.”

He’ll be fine as well. He has to be. They’ll take care of his shoulder and he’ll get through it.

She spots an officer coming up to her. She knows her, it’s Sergeant Diane Gibbson from this district.

Fuck, she’ll even go on another date with him if he asks.

Sergeant nods in greeting.

“Mare.”

[dothwrites]

spn15 spec, destiel, post 15.18, mcd?? sort of???

---

And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend.--Antoine de-Saint Exupery, The Little Prince

---

Castiel opens his eyes in nothingness. 

It’s not dark, though the air which presses around him is thick onyx. There is neither gravity nor weightlessness here. Castiel exists but he does so in a void so barren that he doubts his own mind. He opens his mouth to call out, but no sound escapes. 

Castiel exists in ignorance for one, glorious moment. Then the weight of memory crushes into him. His chest buckles underneath the pressure. He tries to scream, but the vast emptiness swallows the sound. 

---

“Cas, we can fight this!” 

Dean, his Righteous Man, Dean, the shining beacon, his friend...The first real friend he’d ever made. Dean is ready to fight. Dean would fight God, has indeed fought God. But he can’t fight this. 

The door shudders in its frame. Blow after blow rains down on the weakening wood. Already, the wood is splintering under the assault. The thin strip of light at the bottom of the door disappears underneath a sea of writhing black. The Empty is here. It wants what it was promised.  

“Dean,” he says. He intends to say much more--It’s too late, let me go, thank you--but his voice cracks on the single syllable of Dean’s name. 

He wants to stay. God help him, but he wants to stay. 

“No, dammit Cas! You don’t get to give up! We can fight this thing, we can keep running, we can...” Dean’s voice trails off into nothing as he looks wildly around the small room. 

Though he might protest, Castiel knows that Dean is a man bailing out a sinking ship. In his heart, Dean knows the battle is already lost. But he’s still defiant, still clinging to the faintest shred of hope.

Castiel loves him for that. 

“You fought for the whole world.” Castiel’s voice is weak and pale against the ear-shattering thunder of the Empty’s attempts to break into the room. 

“Cas, no--” 

“But you can’t fight for me.” 

The words shatter something vital in him. Castiel gasps as the agony shreds through him. He thought there would be more time. He thought that happiness was an ideal that no one could ever reach. He thought there would be time, he doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay--

“Cas, I can’t...Not again, I can’t lose you again, please don’t go--” 

Black seeps into the room, slender tendrils snaking across the room towards where they stand. Castiel feels every second ticking away. He’s lived for millennia, seen worlds and empires rise and fall, felt the passing of centuries like nothing more than a passing breeze. Millions of years, and now, when it means everything, he has no time. 

Castiel cups Dean’s cheek with one shaking hand. If this is it, then he doesn’t want to leave with any regrets. “Dean,” he croaks. That word has become his compass, his prayer, the star to which he hitched his wagon. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you. If I had a choice, i would stay. I would stay with you through every sunrise and sunset, through every moment, the mundane and extraordinary alike.” Castiel’s voice catches in his throat as the door finally shatters and darkness pours into the room. 

“You’ve taught me everything, Dean, and I...I’m so grateful that I got to know you. Without you...” 

Castiel can’t continue. He’s immeasurably grateful for all he’s experienced with Dean, but he’s always been greedy. He wants more. He wants to see Dean’s hair continue to silver until it’s soft and grey. He wants to go fishing with Dean and discover the peace inherent in the activity. He wants to watch Jack grow into his own and Sam start a family. He wants, with a fierceness that takes his breath away. 

Darkness curls around his ankle and winds its way up his calf. 

Dean shakes his head. Tears well in his eyes but refuse to spill over, though his lower lip shakes. “Please,” he asks, tilting his head into Castiel’s palm. “I can’t...how am I supposed to do this without you?” 

Castiel starts to respond, but his voice is cut off by the swift, hard press of Dean’s lips into his. His heart jolts and gutters in his chest before it picks up again, beating so hard he thinks it might escape through the confines of his ribs. 

“I love you.” 

The words tumble out of Castiel’s mouth, the same as they did years ago when he was rotting from in the inside out. The same frantic need consumes him now as it did then, when every beat of his heart dragged him closer to the edge of oblivion, when seconds were more precious than gold, when he was so close to losing everything--

Dean sobs. He clutches the lapels of Castiel’s coat and kisses him, teeth bruising behind his lips.

Castiel’s whole lower body is engulfed in darkness so complete that it feels as though it’s ceased to exist. His whimper is lost in Dean’s mouth. 

“No,” Dean gasps, pulling away. Castiel already knows the cause of Dean’s denial. He can feel it, creeping up his chest and shoulders, slithering down to his arms. He remembers how it was to be devoured, remembers the noxious black ooze of the Leviathan crawling through him, but this is worse, is so much worse, because now he knows what Dean’s lips taste like, now he knows everything he has to lose--

“Cas, I love you,” Dean tells him, though his words echo strangely. The Empty crawls up his throat. Castiel chokes on it, but he doesn’t dare to blink. He can’t lose a second of this, of Dean’s face, horrified and tear-stricken though it is. 

Seconds tick away like centuries, Dean’s face in front of him. Castiel can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can see the words shaped on his lips. 

I’ll find you, I promise, I’m coming for you, Cas, Cas, I love--

And then. 

Empty. 

---

With the image of Dean’s face in his mind, Castiel screams. 

There is no sound in the Empty, but he screams anyway. His agony and loss pour out of him, his grief and fear. Everything that he’s lost, Dean--

Castiel screams until his voice cracks and breaks, until his throat is shredded and raw, until he tastes blood in the back of his throat. 

Hollow, he slumps to the side, curling into himself. His one consolation was that he would at least be asleep for the rest of eternity. He wouldn’t have to live with the weight of everything he’d lost. Now, even that slender comfort has been ripped from him. For the rest of time, he’ll have to exist with the memory of Dean’s glassy eyes, with the sound of Dean’s choked voice echoing through his skull, with the phantom ache of Dean’s lips against his. Castiel shudders, sobs ripping out of his throat. 

“Jesus. So much for helping.” 

Castiel blinks. The sound of another voice is foreign in this void where nothing should exist. He rolls over, looking up at the sardonic face staring down at him. 

“Ruby,” he rasps, then remembers himself. 

That’s not Ruby. 

“Go away,” he mutters. He wraps his arms around his legs, pressing his forehead to his knees. There’s no point in having pride here, not when time is meaningless and every second is a torture. The Empty already knows his secrets, though why it chose Ruby’s form to torment him is a mystery. 

“Look feathers, you were the one who screwed the pooch on this whole ‘fixing eternity’ thing. So I think I’m going to stick around for a bit.” 

“There’s no point,” Castiel says miserably. “You got what you wanted. I’m here. I’m suffering. What more could you possibly want from me?”

“Were you dropped on your halo? I told you what I wanted the last time you were here. I want out, you moron. I told you to find a way out, and you wound up here, which is kind of the opposite of what I asked.” 

Castiel blinks slowly, lifting his forehead from his knees. “Ruby?” he asks. 

Ruby rolls her eyes and sighs for dramatic effect. “Yeah, dumbo. You know, I’ve only been trying to tell you that since the beginning.” 

“I can’t trust that.” Castiel remembers all too well the last time he was here, the jolt of pleasure at seeing Meg once more only to realize that the Empty was aping her appearance to hurt him. “The Empty, it takes on your visage, your memories--”

“Yeah, you’re just going to have to trust me on this.” Ruby’s eyes flash black. “You know, as much as you can.” 

“I’d pay attention to her, Clarence. If you don’t, then she’ll probably kick your ass.” 

Castiel knows that voice. He whirls around. Meg’s face greets him, a tiny smirk twisting her lips upward. “Meg,” he whispers, an odd combination of grief and happiness twisting in his chest. 

“The one and only,” she assures him. 

A small shred of doubt clings at the back of Castiel’s mind, but he has to trust in something right now. Even if it’s two dead demons. 

“Castiel. So lovely to see you again. Though I can’t say that I agree with the company you’re keeping these days.” 

Make that three dead demons. 

“Crowley,” Castiel breathes. 

The demon looks exactly the same as he did  the day he died. His suit is pristine, down to the pocket square. He looks at Meg and Ruby with disdain before he turns that expression on Castiel. “I suppose you’re doing your biannual visit to this dump? Feel like taking any passengers out with you when you make your escape this time?” 

“I’m not...I made a deal,” Castiel whispers. He made a deal to save his son and he’ll never regret that, not for a second, but then he thinks of Dean’s face. “I’m not leaving.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so negative, Cassie. You do have a way of wriggling out of the tightest of places.” 

Mingled guilt and joy sear through Castiel as he turns around. Balthazar’s familiar face looks at him. Balthazar raises an eyebrow. “No hug?” he asks. 

“I don’t understand,” Castiel breathes. Surrounded by ghosts from his past, he feels weak. “None of you should be awake. That’s the whole point of this place. All of us, asleep, forever.” 

“That’s the way it should be, but you have a habit of wrecking the natural order.” Castiel winces at Anna’s cool voice. Though there’s no real judgement in her voice, there’s also no real warmth. “It’s been changing here, ever since your last visit.” 

“I woke it up.” 

“And because you woke it up, we all started to awake as well.” Hannah’s calm voice joins their small group, though it’s growing steadily larger. “All of us, demons and angels, started awaking. At first, it was just for moments, but lately, it’s been distracted. More of us have been able to stay awake for longer. Eventually we started finding each other.” 

“That’s my boy,” Meg says, unmistakable fondness in her voice. “Shaking up the natural order, wrecking the whole of the afterlife.” 

Castiel’s eyes dart between all of them, former enemies, allies, and friends. “Is this all of you?” 

“Were you not listening? Did they not just tell you that we’ve all been waking up, at least a little bit?” 

Gabriel pops into existence next to Castiel. Despite himself, Castiel jerks back in surprise. 

“So, what’s it going to be, Cas? Are you going to just pop out of here like always?” Crowley brings Castiel’s brain back to the present. 

When he made his deal, he made it with full awareness that there was no coming back. He accepted that burden because he knew it was the only way he could save Jack. 

But that was before he felt Dean’s lips against his, before he heard the words fall from Dean’s mouth. I love you. 

When he made the deal, he had never heard those words directed at him. When he made the deal, he had nothing to fight for. 

Now he does.

He made a choice long ago. You don’t have to be ruled by Fate. You can choose freedom. 

Castiel looks at all of them, demons and angels alike, and makes a choice. 

“We’ve got work to do.” 

[cerastes]

E2 artworks are for the most part delightful, but today, I would like us to pay particular attention to certain characters’ Elite 2 artwork: Nightingale, Cuora, and Specter.

The three of them have two things in common: The first is that they are all amnesiac (or, in the case of Nightingale, partially amnesiac, but amnesiac nonetheless), the second is that they are all drawn by Skade. I think the Hypergryph writers just have an Amnesiac Hotline for whenever they conceive another amnesiac character and it connects directly to Skade’s temporal lobe, where all information about the new character is immediately uploaded to and then he just starts furiously drawing.

But let’s focus on the fact that they are amnesiac in this post, and how this is reflected in their E2 art in a way I found clever. Let’s begin with our favorite fashionable demon, Nightingale.

Nightingale’s name is a two-fold allusion: The most evident one is being an homage to Florence Nightingale, the mother of modern nursing. The other, perhaps least apparent but of equal importance, is to the Greek aesop “The Laborer & The Nightingale”, which tells the tale of a poor laborer who, enthralled with the beautiful song of a nightingale that sang every day atop a tall cedar tree, grew selfish and built a cage of iron and twigs to capture the nightingale to make its songs his and only his. Her lines make several allusions to cages and empty rooms,

and of only being let out of her ‘cage’ when someone needed her healing powers, her “song”, if you will (especially relevant when you consider how song and Arts seem to be related in Terra). Her E2 art, thus, represents her bursting out of her cage or iron and twigs. Unlike other Sarkaz Operators, her E2 is not a shape or a representation of a Demon, it is, instead, a representation of her inner Demon, the cage of her head, which contains all of her memories and emotions locked tight within in. She’s not there yet, but she’s making progress. It is worthy of note that Shining also doesn’t depict a Demon in her E2 art, her artwork instead centering on her shield, but while Shining’s E2 art is an allusion of her deep, deep shame of being a Sarkaz and the things she’s done as a Sarkaz (or, in other words, denouncing her own identity to focus on what she truly wants to do from here on, which is to protect others), Nightingale’s E2 artwork instead depicts her destroying part of the cage that holds her back: She’s not fully out yet, but now, it is only a matter of time.

Then, what about Cuora?

Some Operators show a manifestation of their identifying animal that might not be entirely physical but it’s clear, with hard colors and textures. Other Operators show their animal very clearly, as if it was truly there, like Perfumer and Siege, and in some cases, it REALLY is there, as with Eyjafjalla (who directly addresses them in a voice line), and this seems to be matter of artistic preference, but whereas Skade normally draws E2 manifestations with solid colors, in the case of Cuora and Specter, he chooses to make them almost phantasmal, with soft colors and an ephemeral feel to them instead. In fact, the turtle you can see above is as generic as can be, it doesn’t seem to be identifying of any particular turtle species, and all we know about it is that it is “a turtle”. This is deliberate, meant to represent Cuora’s amnesia: Her race, Petram, is not unknown, but she doesn’t remember what specific kind of Petram she is. There’s a lot of turtle species, so which one is she? We have no idea. We know Blue Poison is a Poison Dart Frog, we know Nearl is a Pegasus, so when it comes to species either real or fantastic, we usually have an accurate account of which each Operator is supposed to represent, but not with Cuora, because she’s amnesiac. Whatever specific kind of Petram she is, we’ll never know unless someone that can properly identify her or that knew her from before the amnesia can divulge that information. To represent this, thus, her animal manifestation is ephemeral, phantasmal, ambiguous: It shows us exactly as much as we know of it, that is, that she’s a turtle, nothing less, nothing more.

So where does this leave Specter?

Nightingale has partial amnesia, Cuora is amnesiac but her Oripathy was caught in time and she’s been stabilized, but Specter’s nervous system has been ravaged, and not only is she amnesiac, she’s also prone to bouts of insanity and of sometimes saying some rather concerning things, such as wanting to take Doctor to the “place where secrets are imparted” or how “some people were never ever meant to be one, so it is her duty to cut them into many”.

Nightingale’s art, if you look above, is ‘solid’, bereft of particles or separated parts: It’s an iron cage, the twigs, and herself. Cuora’s art is somewhat more ‘loose’, with some weaving loose lines on the lower part of the drawing to presumably represent low tide, where you would normally find small turtles, as well as to represent her somewhat deteriorated but overall well-preserved psyche. Specter’s art, in contrast, is very loose: There’s an emphasis on aquatic trails all over the composition, representing the deep sea, as well as her flowing cloak, hair, and habit flaps. There’s many loose ‘particles’, like smudges of splattered ink, representative of her shattered psyche, and, most importantly, there’s not one but two sharks of different species as her animal representation. I believe they are representative of how she’s currently ‘two’ people: The somewhat manic but otherwise harmless Specter that can be found roaming the halls of Rhodes Islands’ dorms, and the completely silent fighting machine named Specter that can be found roaming the battlefield like a vengeful ghoul, following orders to the letter, her own safety be damned.

But there’s another meaning, I believe: Cuora at least has one turtle in her art, which can at least let us approximate which species it could possibly be (likely a freshwater turtle judging from comparative size and shell shape, bigger than tortoises, smaller than sea turtles), but Specter has two sharks, which means properly approximating her exact species becomes a lot harder. Skadi and Deepcolor, fellow AEgirians, make it very clear which animals they are supposed to be (Orca and Dumbo Squid, respectively), which further proves that this is a Specter-specific conundrum and not a Deep Sea trait. Likewise, her outfit has several allusions to the overall shape of a shark, but not to any specific shark.

If we want to dig deeper, and boy howdy I bet we do, we can take a look at the Chinese Hanzi that composes her name:

“幽灵鲨”, or “Yōulíng shā”, which translates literally to “Ghost Shark” from Chinese to English. Fitting that her codename is given as Specter. So, what’s a “Ghost Shark”, exactly? Aside, from, you know,

a really bad B-Movie.

Sounds like it’s just a cool poetic name for someone who is but a specter: a fleeting existence, with no memories, only a shadow of her former self, no?

Well, that works out, to be frank, but it turns out, Ghost Sharks are a real species. This is the Bahamas Ghost Shark:

And this is the Australian Ghost Shark:

They belong to a species of fish known as Chimaeras, and they live in temperate ocean floors down to 2,600 m (8,500 ft) deep and are some of the oldest fish alive, they share plenty of characteristics with their prehistoric ancestors (or, to translate this to Arknights terms: keep in mind how Specter looks just like a regular human). These are deep sea fish, with only a couple of them coming close to the surface rarely, and it fits with what we know of Specter, what with her background of fighting giant Deep Sea monsters as an Abyssal Hunter. Of course, whether she is supposed to be a Chimaera of any sort remains to be seen, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was, given the thematic similarities.

I found all of these little nudges and nods to be plenty fascinating. Am I perhaps reading too deep into this? Always within the realm of possibility! Are Skade and Hypergryph planting seeds of lore that will bloom much later, making every piece of evidence given until that point suddenly make cohesive sense? Wouldn’t put it past them! So analyze, analyze, and analyze, because even if it takes you nowhere, lord knows it’s fun to do so.

[animatedminds]

Splash Mountain, Br’er Rabbit, and the Tragedy of Being Represented By Other People.

So, this is probably going to be the realest post I’ll make for a while - or at least until The Boondocks arrives, but it seemed apropos. Immediately after this I’ve got rants about sci fi and Star Wars and other unrelated things coming up, but for now we have my earnest opinions on a decision I feel should have been better thought out than it was. This is going to read more like an article or an essay than a review, but I think it needs to be said.

It hasn’t come up too often on this blog, but I am African American. It’s my life and my perspective. And as an African American, a lover of animation and - though this definitely doesn’t come up on the blog - a passionate folklorist in what you could call an academic sense (in that I’m a writer and a student, and folklore is the subject of most of my research), people I know in real life have asked me more than once what my opinion on the removal of Splash Mountain in favor of Princess and the Frog, how I must be glad it’s finally being removed, what my take on the history there was, and…

Well…

To really give that opinion, I’ve got to start at the beginning. Not Song of the South - that, if anything, is the very middle. We have to start with Br’er Rabbit and who that character was. Sit back students, info dump incoming.

Br’er Rabbit is an folklore character of African American origin with - like many folkloric figures - a difficult to place date of origin, but he was known to have existed at least since the early 19th Century, He has obvious similarities to the far older figure of Anansi - with several Br’er Rabbit tales even taking elements of Anansi stories verbatim - though with a the notable difference that unlike Anansi, Br’er Rabbit was more often a heroic figure: an underdog and seemingly downtrodden figure who used his wits and his enemies’ hubris rather than physical force to win the day. The meaning of that kind of figure to an enslaved people is obvious, especially when you compare Br’er Rabbit to another, contemporary trickster figure in African American history by the name of John. Br’er Rabbit’s stories could even arguably be seen as a more child-friendly version of the John tales, in which a human trickster pulls the same kind of momentum turning ploys on villains - but those villains tended to be explicitly slave masters or overseers, and John’s payback often came with explicitly deadly results. The existence of John as escapism for the enslaved or just-post-enslaved (IE Reconstruction) populations is clear: a person who with no power who could fight back with nothing but their mind, preying on the fact that their enemies see them as incapable and helpless, and the connection of Br’er Rabbit to that message is difficult to deny. If anything, Br’er Rabbit comes off as a somewhat more child-friendly version of the concept.

But the most important thing to glean from this is who and what Br’er Rabbit is: a product of the African American community and its history, as a means of those people to express themselves and their values in the face of oppression.

Now we fast forward to 1881, and along comes Joel Chandler Harris: a white Georgian. Harris was a folklorist himself, and travelled the country collecting stories - most famously Br’er Rabbit stories. His stated reason was to bridge African American and white communities by sharing stories, but he was tainted by the perspectives of his world and his place in it, infamously creating a framing narrative for those stories in which the character telling them exuded the imagery of subservience and simplicity that was typical of perceptions of African Americans from the post-Civil War Southern environment in which he collected them: Uncle Remus, in other words. Harris is hardly the only white curator who adapted stories of black or brown peoples in a way that played up the people the stories came from as something of a theme park piece, as if noble in unintelligence and simplicity, but he’s one of the most famous ones to do so - and that’s because of the adaptation. To note, when people criticize cultural appropriation, this is the kind of thing that really triggers the outrage. Not any situation in which a white person is inspired by someone who isn’t white and creates something accordingly, but situations where someone else’s creation is taken and used for the fame and profit of others, to the detriment of the people who made it. It’s these situations like the one Joel Chandler Harris created centuries ago, specifically, that people are trying to draw attention to - even if sometimes social media gets a bit trigger happy sometimes, that’s the real, underlying problem. With that in mind, let’s put that aside and move forward.

Fast forward again to 1946. Walt Disney Productions, then less the company of grander, wider scale stories of epic quests and emotional upheaval that make us all cry and more a company more known for folktale adaptations in general, were looking for a but of American folklore to headline a live action, animation mix - a medium that allowed a bit more financial benefit, as straightforward animation was not always particularly profitable those dates. This wouldn’t be the last time they produced an adaptation of an American folktale or short story - their version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow a few years later being actually one of the more faithful adaptations of that short story put to film. Disney, who evidently read Chandler Harris’ stories, put together a project to see if they could adapted. Which they did. Pretty much verbatim. This is actually worth pointing out: the actual Br’er Rabbit stories in the films are very accurately adapted, and the actors involved in the story (including James Baskett, how also played Uncle Remus) did a fine job characterizing them. The issue is that Disney also adapted Chandler Harris’ stereotypical and offensive framing device pretty much verbatim, bringing Uncle Remus. And therein lies the problem.

To put the issue with Song of the South in perspective, the movie - with the framing device - can be categorized as something called Reconstruction Revisionism - which is basically a genre of post-Civil War media meant to present the pre-war South was perfect and idyllic, and that people are racially more natural in that environment’s dynamic and never should have left. One of the most infamous movies in history, Birth of a Nation, is the crowning example of this genre. Obviously, Song of the South is nowhere near as awful and inflammatory a movie as that, but there’s a degree to which it was seen as the straw the broke the camel’s back for black depictions in media, only a couple of years after Disney’s Dumbo also did the same. The end result, an African American creation was used in a film that ultimately demeaned the African American community, a decision that Disney has been ashamed of ever since.

Fast forward to now. Disney is removing Splash Mountain, the sole remnant of Song of the South that focuses exclusively on Br’er Rabbit - a choice we’ve had reason to suspect was coming for about a year now, but which was unveiled conspicuously in the middle of protests and campaigning for better treatment of people of African descent worldwide. The reveal was a rousing success, with people applauding the decision to finally wipe away the rest of that movie - though remember that for later, that the response relies on the perception of Br’er Rabbit as something that starts with Song of the South - and replace it with something else. Surely, as a black person I should be happy that they’re finally getting rid of that racist character for good and replacing him with something more positive? And again, well…

To put short, Br’er Rabbit has finished his journey from African cultural symbol to discarded pariah, all because others used the character in racist ways that they themselves now regret. And for that… let’s be clear, I’m not angry so much as saddened. I’m not railing against the company for making the choice, since I can see how from their point of view it was the wisest and most progressive thing to do. Song of the South is a badly old fashioned movie that they’re right to want to move on from, and it’s their right to downplay characters within their purview if those characters reflect badly on the company. I’m just outlining the tragic waste of it all.

For now, compare Princess and the Frog - the thing they’re replacing it with. I do love the movie, or at least any problems I have with it have little to do with representation, and I definitely don’t have anything against Musker and Clements and their beautiful visions and creations, but it’s difficult to deny that its an adaptation of a European story, adapted by a collection of mostly white creators (with Rob Edwards comprising but one third of the screenwriting team, but not of story conception), that’s ultimately just dolled up with African Americans characters and a very Hollywood-esque depiction of a African diaspora religion (Voodoo, which unfortunately has a long history of such portrayals). If we’re talking about representation specifically - which this move had definitely been presented as a champion for - it’s not the perfect example, more of a story with a surface covering of the black experience than one with an especially strong connection. That wouldn’t necessarily be a problem (Tiana and her story do well depict strong black characterizations, and approach an interesting (if light_ implication about racism and hardship during the 1920s) if Disney had yet created any other franchise that was another actual adaptation of an African or African American tale or story (with involvement from such actual people), but Song of the South is actually it. They legitimately have nothing else to call on.

This is something I feel we should do more to remedy. I am a writer/prospective screenwriter myself, and trying to put more stories out there is one of my primary focuses and goals should I ever truly enter the industry, but at the moment we just don’t have very many options.

This is hardly the only time that people of color have had little control over depictions of their own culture - literary and film history is full of such situations in both minor and terribly major ways - but it’s something that stings especially hard due to being such a current example, and because of sheer irony of the end result. Now we have a situation where African Americans are being told that something their people created to represent themselves is negative and wrong, because years ago other people appropriated that creation and used it to paint a negative picture of the people who actually held claim over it, and now the enterprise that those people created wants to save face: another example of culture being treated like a possession of the ones who are poised to make money of off it. And what’s worse, while the culture is used and abused like trash, the people are now presented with this removal like it was a prize - like they’re finally being given something - when little has really changed.

Ultimately, the Splash Mountain news - though it had been coming for a while - made me rather upset for that reason. As a studier of folklore, I suppose I knew better than most where these things came from, and so the buzz around the move being a belief that Br’er Rabbit was an intrinsically racist character just highlighted the tragedy of how African Americans and their culture tended to be tossed about by American media. So no matter what, I can’t feel particularly happy about it.

Let me iterate, in the film industry, being represented by people who aren’t of your culture group is basically inevitable. That’s essentially how the industry works. I’m not saying we should rail against anyone who would try to represent cultures that aren’t their own. The people who produce and create are few, and eventually the truth is that you have to be represented by other people - at least for the moment. We shouldn’t be railing against representation by others in general, as that wouldn’t be cognizant of the situation and thus self destructive. What I’m saying is that we - both we trying to be represented, and those doing the representing - should be aware of the problem there: that when others choose to represent you in media, you essentially have to trust them to have a real interest in you and your best interests when doing so, and when they don’t that depiction is there forever. So it behooves us to try to be the ones who are representing ourselves as much as possible, and in situations where we can’t, to remind those who want to represent us that they have a responsibility to do so effectively.

This is Animated Minds for Animated Times, and really this blog is ultimately about emphasizing what makes animated media work, what makes it fun, and what makes it worthwhile no matter how old you are. And so in several years of sporadic and infrequent reviews, reactions and fandom posts it’s been rare for me to get this real about a topic, but this is something that is a serious issue feel was overlooked. Representation is complicated. And more often than not solutions that are handed to us are more band-aids that look like cures than necessarily being actually helpful, and that’s what happens when ultimately the decisions about how you’re represented lie in the hands of other people. Representation is one of the biggest things we need to work on in coming years, especially with stories and adaptations - which refer to history and culture that are often not widely known or accepted. Ask someone if they think there should be an African princess, and they’ll tell you they didn’t even have kings and queens in Africa - something that’s bluntly wrong, but is widely believed simply because those elements of culture are never represented.

And that’s the sum of my thoughts on the subject. I hadn’t updated the blog in months because this whole thing was stewing in me, and I couldn’t really go back to cheerful posts about new things until I got it out. I’ve got great thoughts about the Owl House, Amphibia, the new seasons of BH6 and Ducktales that are totally coming up soon. But for now, just a few sobering thoughts from someone who grew up loving cartoons, and desperately wishes people like me had more to look at in that field beyond apologies and promises.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Fifty Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 10th, 1994

Remy sighed as the kids around him snickered as he walked past. He was pretty much used to it by now, and high school was right around the corner, he just had to hold out hope that everyone would mellow out once they got to freshman year. Until then, he’d suffer the last few months of middle school, and keep his mouth shut around Mom when she asked him how school was. No one wanted to hear about the kids calling him “Dumbo,” and she definitely wouldn’t want to hear about the meaner bullies calling him “rat face.”

Just a few more months, he reminded himself as one of the other kids tripped him up in the hallways and they laughed with their friends. A few more months and he’d be off for the summer, where he didn’t have to interact with any of his bullies. He’d be able to play video games with Toby all day, or at least until Mom made them go outside. And, if he was really lucky, maybe he’d get a little less ugly over the summer, so he couldn’t be picked on for his looks anymore.

  January 26th, 2002

It was just supposed to be a normal date night, and Remy had no idea how they had gotten this far off the beaten path. They had a little extra money this month, enough to go to a local art museum that had just opened. Emile had gotten a small sketchbook recently and Remy thought it might be nice to give him something to sketch on a Saturday night. What Remy hadn’t taken into account was that Emile had worked three night shifts in a row restocking shelves and taking classes during the day, so he was incredibly sleep deprived and now giggling like he was tipsy.

Remy was looking at one of the paintings, featuring a child chasing after a bluejay. Emile was behind him, on one of the benches, giggling like a mad man as he sketched. Emile had told Remy to stay in the same room as he was while he sketched, but Remy could be doing anything he wanted in the room. Emile just didn’t want to look up and find Remy gone. Which Remy respected. Emile was sleep deprived and he had seen the man burst into tears when he couldn’t find a cartoon he was looking for with just one more night shift in a row than what he had agreed to this week. And losing sight of Remy, for some weird reason, was more traumatic to Emile than losing his cartoons, and Remy would do just about anything to avoid Emile crying. So in this room he stayed.

As Remy moved to another painting, he ran a hand through his hair and stuck one of his hands into his pants pocket, and Emile went eerily quiet. Remy paused, turned to make sure that Emile was still there. He was, but he was staring intently at his sketchbook, like he had been staring at Remy for a second too long and wanted to avoid being caught.

Right. Remy forgot that Emile found him attractive sometimes. Remy walked over to Emile and tried to sneak a peek at Emile’s sketches but Emile snapped the book shut. “No peeking!” he said, holding the book defensively.

“All right, all right,” Remy said, “I was just wondering if you were having a good time.”

Emile nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned. “Best exhausted date ever.”

“Do you want to go home? You’ve been giggling for the past half an hour and I’m pretty sure at least two of the security guards are convinced you’re drunk.”

“Well, I finished my...fourth? Sketch, right before you moved, and I think it’s pretty good, looking it over. I haven’t drawn in a little while, so I’m a little rusty, but I like it well enough. And four sketches isn’t bad considering that I’m...”

“So punchy people are convinced you’re drunk when they take one look at you?” Remy filled in. Emile burst into a giggle fit and Remy grinned. “Oh, yeah, honey, you’re exhausted, let me take you home.”

“Careful, Rem, people might think we’re dating if you say that,” Emile teased.

“We are dating, you goofball. Up,” Remy said, helping Emile to his feet and walking out of the museum, smiling and waving at the guards who wished them a good night.

Emile was swaying where he stood as Remy fished in his pockets for the car keys. “Hey, Rem,” Emile said.

“Hey, yeah?” Remy responded, pulling out the keys and unlocking the car.

“I’m really gay for you, I hope you know that,” Emile said.

Remy laughed and got in the car, and Emile followed suit. “Yeah, I kinda had that figured when we started going out,” he said lightly.

“No. Like...” Emile frowned, staring at the book in his lap. “Like, I really love you, Rem. A lot. Way more than I’ve loved any of my other girlfriends or boyfriends. I love you. Like, to infinity and beyond.”

Despite the cartoon reference at the end of that declaration, Remy still dropped the keys in shock. “Ah,” he said leaning down and nearly banging his head against the steering wheel as he grabbed them. “I’m...I’m flattered, Emile, thank you. I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

Emile stared at his book more and frowned. “You could say you like me back?” Emile said.

Remy swallowed. “Look, Emile, I’m not going to lie. Commitment terrifies me. But...but with you, it’s less scary. Did I ever tell you what I felt the day we got back together? I can’t remember.”

Emile shook his head.

Remy laughed. “I thought...that we worked well together. And that our bond was stronger after our fight. Like it would last through future fights, or troubles, or anything like that. I thought...I thought it’s what soulmates should have felt like. And I...I still believe that. I think that’s what soulmates are like, and that’s what we are. To me, anyway. You’re my first boyfriend, so I don’t really have any other baseline to go off of, but...yeah, I love you too, Emile. To infinity and beyond.”

“Really?” Emile’s voice was small.

Remy gave Emile a soft smile and a nod. “Really, mio amore. I’m with you until the end of the line, you understand?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but I can’t understand why you would want to be with me.”

“Oh, no, I get that too. All the time,” Remy laughed. “You’re so impossibly out of my league. You could have any guy or girl you wanted and you wanted me? That’s like...I don’t even have the words to describe how weird that is.”

As Remy started to drive, Emile stared out his window. “I think you’re out of my league, Rem. Not in like, personality, maybe, but definitely in terms of looks.”

Remy laughed. “Why do you keep calling me attractive?” he asked.

Emile blinked at Remy, uncomprehending. “You’re...you’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” Remy said, looking over. “I genuinely don’t understand why you find me attractive.”

“Has...has no one seriously told you that you’re gorgeous? ‘Cause you are.”

Remy laughed. “Please. The kids at school never hesitated to mock me about my appearance, and my mother always said that I couldn’t fault them for it, because I dressed like a weirdo. I say I’m drop-dead gorgeous as a joke, Emile.”

“Well that’s just not right,” Emile said, frowning deeply. “You’re beautiful, Rem. You deserve to know.”

“Gee, what every guy loves to hear,” Remy said sarcastically.

“Beautiful is used for men, too, get off your high horse,” Emile said, rolling his eyes. “I won’t use it again if you don’t want me to, but seriously. I’m trying to compliment you.”

Remy couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, okay, funny joke, Emile, you can stop now. I know you find me attractive, but you don’t have to play it up like that.”

They pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex and Emile grabbed Remy’s arm before Remy could leave the car. “Rem. I’m not playing it up.”

Remy looked Emile over. Everything from the set of his jaw to the look in his eyes told Remy he was serious. Remy blinked. “Okay, maybe you find me beautiful. Doesn’t mean anyone else will.”

“You do realize how many girls have flirted with you, over the past two years alone because they want to get a piece of you?” Emile asked. “Remy, you’re easily a nine. I would say a ten, in all honesty, but I want you to believe me when I say this. You’re easily a nine. I’m a six. Maybe a seven if I wear those jeans you like.”

Remy blinked uncomprehendingly at Emile.

Emile sighed. “Right. Inside. We can talk more once we’re inside. And I’ll prove to you that you’re attractive.”

“I doubt you’d be able to prove something that subjective,” Remy said, shaking his head, but getting out of the car and following Emile inside all the same.

After a moment of silence, Emile seemed to decide what he was going to say. “Listen, blondie,” Emile said, turning to look at Remy from where he was opening their front door. “I don’t even have a thing for blonds and yet here you are, a solid ten who’s willing to stay with a six like me.”

“You’re not a six,” Remy scoffed. Emile walked into their apartment and Remy followed, closing the door with his body as he slumped against it. “Okay. I’ve got platinum blond hair and blue eyes, both of which I suppose are attractive in most people’s books. What else could I possibly have going for me?”

Silently, Emile walked over to Remy and opened the sketchbook he had been drawing in on their date. Remy blinked. On the first two pages Emile was showing him, there were two drawings of the same guy. In the first one, he was laughing, using a hand to cover most of the smile but you could tell by his eyes that he was happy. In the second, it was a full-body shot, and the guy didn’t look ripped, but he definitely wasn’t a beanpole either. In this one he looked thoughtful, staring at something that Emile hadn’t drawn on the page. “I don’t remember any paintings like this in the museum,” Remy said, frowning.

“Well, duh, Rem. They’re drawings of you. I spent most of the time drawing you and your reactions to things. The paintings were nice but I wanted to draw the prettiest thing in each room. That pretty thing just happened to be my date.”

“But? I don’t? Look like that?” Remy asked, confused. “That guy is actually cute. I’m...not.”

“Look, Rem, my artistic skills are not the best, but I spent, like, half an hour on the second drawing alone. I captured your likeness pretty well,” Emile said, starting to grow defensive. “Don’t trash-talk my boyfriend.”

Remy looked at the drawings closer. He could see some resemblance in the eyes and the nose, he guessed, and the mouth was similar too, but... “Where’s the acne? The too-big ears? The nose is supposed to look more like a rodent’s. The eyes are supposed to look...more predatory. That’s not what I look like!”

Emile closed the book and put it on the side table, grabbing Remy’s face in both his hands and pressing their foreheads together. “Remy, none of those things are a part of you. Like, the closest thing might be the acne, and you barely have any at all. Your ears are normal sized. No part of you should be compared to an animal. And your eyes are never predatory. They hold happiness, and sometimes pain, and sometimes there’s a fire that could never be put out by mortals. But never do they hold any ill-intent. Ever. Understand?”

“No,” Remy said. “I don’t understand. How could I...could I look like that guy you drew? I’m just...me.”

“Remy, there is nothing just about you,” Emile said, taking a step back and grabbing the book. “You look absolutely stunning, and anyone who ever said otherwise either needs to get their eyes or their jealousy checked. Possibly both. Puberty was brutal to go through, but you came out the other end looking like the hero in an action movie who women throw themselves at. If there was anyone who isn’t cute in this relationship, it would be me. And I have just enough self-confidence left to say that while I might have a little baby fat on me, I am by no means unattractive, nor does that take away from my attractiveness, really.”

“You’re not ugly, Emile, you’re soft and cuddly,” Remy said, crossing his arms.

“Just like you aren’t ugly,” Emile said. “But clearly, this is going to be an argument that could go on for a little while. I’m going to spare us some heated moments and get some sleep before we continue this conversation. Besides, you probably don’t want me to show you the drawings of how I imagine seeing you naked just yet, if you’re so convinced of your stance.”

Emile walked away but Remy just stared after him. “I’m sorry, did you just admit that you drew me naked?!”

“Why do you think I was laughing so much at the last exhibit?” Emile asked over his shoulder, before closing his bedroom door to leave Remy completely stunned at the front door.

“I’m going to need an answer to that, Emile!” Remy called. Getting no response, he grumbled and went to his own room for the night.

[onthepageoftears]

Kill Your Darlings Ch. 5 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Hello all! I hope you are having a good day and getting through these rough times okay. This chapter is nice and long, so hopefully you guys can distract yourselves with this story. As always, make sure to stay as safe as possible 💙

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me!

Summary: Trust can be built — but easily broken.

Warnings: language, mentions of death/killing, slight descriptions of violence, two dumbos being dumbos

Words: 3,549

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

You realized as you stepped outside of the inn that you were in there overnight. Your injuries must have been pretty bad if you were knocked out that long, but you didn’t feel too much pain right now. Whatever those two did to patch you up, they must have used something powerful.

You breathed in the fresh air and closed your eyes, trying to collect your thoughts. Nothing like this had ever happened to you before. An assignment gone wrong, yes — there were multiple times where your target tried to fight back, but to no avail. But never in your experience had a case been...wrong. Or at least, not proven to be. You shook the thought as soon as it entered your head. No way Rauf would slip up more than once. It must have been a small error — one that you were glad you stumbled upon before killing a possibly innocent man.

But nothing was truly set in stone. The witcher and bard could have lied with no moral intentions other than getting away with the crimes they’ve committed. The thought made your head spin — if they were lying, somehow knew that you would be assigned to kill the bard, planted evidence of other whereabouts...well, it was a bit crazy now that you worked through it in your head. But if they did, just if, Rauf would be severely disappointed. Rauf’s disappointment was worse than his anger, as any guardians’ was. But his especially...it flipped your insides and ripped them out through the gaps in your teeth.

Still, something about the two strangers was compelling to you. The witcher was harder to read, but also somewhat easier. He said things simply, promised the truth with his words but also his eyes.

The bard was a whole other story. Frantic, strange, annoying, sure — but your mind couldn’t erase the way he acted before you held a knife deliberately to his throat. The kind blue eyes, curious but worrisome — that was one of the most foreign parts of the whole ordeal.

The city was already bustling as you made your way through the streets, nearly impossibly avoiding the crowds through different alleyways here and there. You stuck to the usual methods of keeping your head low and footsteps quick enough — but not too quick to draw attention to yourself.  The last thing you needed right now was for a guard to stop you and push you even further away from your task.

The Novigrad Guild was actually not far from the inn. It was a quick trip, though taking many detours to avoid guards and other people made the trip longer. The path there was almost second nature, a replaying from your memory of footsteps you needed to take. It allowed you to focus more on your surroundings, to observe the city around you and think about how the hell you would explain all of this to Rauf.

You couldn’t imagine him getting too mad. He seemed to always have a better mood in cities like this, especially when visiting old friends. The only reason your guild had its own space in certain cities was because of Rauf’s connections. In this case, he was long time friends with the well-known guild master, Arnet. They went way back, even worked together on cases before Rauf created his own guild. You were excited to see Arnet again as well, since he knew you since you were pretty young.

You were now in a quieted alleyway, a bit aways from where a crowd had just recently passed. Suddenly, your ears perked up at a sound behind you — footsteps. Too clumsy for a guard, too obvious for another assassin. A beggar, perhaps, or a poorly trained thief. Either way, they were going to be sourly disappointed that they chose you to rob.

You picked up your pace and took different paths than usual — you went straight through a crowded square, then turned left into a path with merchants lining the walls. You continued forward and found an alleyway with multiple indented doorways. With a swift sidestep, you squeezed yourself behind one of the indents, making sure to listen for the person who was following you. Sure enough, the same sound of footsteps entered the quiet alleyway, this time more tentative than before. You slipped the knife from your sleeve as the person got closer to your spot — you only meant to scare them off, teach them to think twice about whatever it was they were doing; it was only when they walked past your spot that you let your shoulders go limp.

“What are you doing here?” The bard twisted his body around to face you, his eyes immediately traveling to the knife in your hand.

“Gods, you scared me. Watch where you swing that thing, would you?”

You let out a sharp sigh and slipped the knife back into your sleeve. “I could have killed you,” you said, though you knew it wasn’t true.

“You’ve tried before and failed.”

You tugged your sleeve down more aggressively than usual.“Next time you won’t be so lucky.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why are you following me?”

“Following? You? No, I was just on a stroll in the city. I never did give these alleyways the…appreciation…they deserved.” He smiled cheekily, placing his hands on his hips with way too much confidence. You only blinked at him, which was enough for him to give up the act and sag his shoulders with a sigh. “Fine. I was following you. Happy now?”

“No. But I am surprised you managed to keep up with me.” You pursed your lips, honestly impressed with the bard’s dedication. You managed to shrug off the expression quickly and instead settled on a frown. “You still haven’t answered why.”

“Right. Well, to be quite blunt, I don’t trust you.”

You raised your eyebrows. Blunt was right. “Okay. And you thought following me would do…what, exactly?”

“Make sure you were doing what you said you would. Checking in with your guild, or whatever.”

“Right. And the witcher just let you leave the inn?”

The bard scoffed. “Let me? No, I went out after Geralt left—“

“He’s here too?”

He frowned. “Well, I don’t know if he’s here, but —“

“Jaskier!”

Both of your heads snapped to the sound of the outburst — there, at the end of the alleyway, was the very witcher, his frown even more defined than your own.

The bard winced. “Okay, well maybe he is here.”

The witcher made it over to you two, directing his anger at the bard. “I told you to stay behind.”

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to piece everything together. “Wait, wait, wait. You were both following me?”

“Yes.” They answered at the same time, but the bard continued. “Quite sneakily, I’d say.”

“He was.” You pointed to the witcher, then to the bard. “You, not so much.” All the bard could do was scoff before you turned to the taller man. “And why are you following me?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Wow. Okay. Great.” You placed your palms on your forehead — these two were more persistent than you realized. You took a deep breath and faced them both. “Look. The closer you follow me to the guild, the more suspicious they’re going to be. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Do you really expect us to trust you that easily?”

You clenched your jaw. “No. But like I said, you’re going to have to.”

The witcher watched you for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Fine.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He turned to the bard and jutted his head to the end of the alleyway. “Jaskier. Back to the inn.”

The bard ogled between you two, “Wha—“

Before he could speak further, you shook your head. At this point, the situation was laughable. “No, you both have to go back.”

“I’m not taking the chance of more assassins coming after him.”

“Exactly. Which is why he needs someone to escort him back to the inn.” You waited for the men to get your point. Instead, the bard scoffed.

“He is standing right here, thank you very much.”

You had to physically hold back a groan. “You can’t follow me to the guild, or more assassins will try to kill you.”

“What? Why?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose with two fingers and took a deep breath. “I’m the one with the assignment, but the other members of the guild are notified of it. If they finish their assignments, and they find you before I do, they can claim the reward before I get it.”

The bard scrunched his nose. “What kind of rule is that?”

“An unfair one.” You back away from the two men slowly, praying that they would actually listen to you. “Which is why you both have to leave. I’ll meet you two back at the inn. Stay in your room. And don’t follow me.”

To your surprise, they actually nodded, though both of them looked like sad puppy dogs being left behind by their owner. You let out a sigh of relief as you neared the end of the alleyway, and began to turn around towards the street. Just before you did, the witcher called out.

“If you come back and try to kill him,” he paused just to let his next words sink in. “I won't hold back my sword.”

You took a deep breath and sent him a clear nod before rounding the corner. Under your breath, you mumbled, “I don’t count on it.”

—

The bell rang obnoxiously as you entered the merchant’s shop; it took you a bit longer than you would have liked to get there, mostly because you went an even longer way to make sure the witcher and bard were no longer following you. After being satisfied that they weren’t, you continued on.

The shop was empty except a man standing eagerly at the counter. He wasn’t the usual guy, and it seemed like he was pretty new.

“Welcome, welcome.” You walked up to the counter, where the man smiled proudly. “Fine goods we have here. Anything that peaks your fancy?”

The disinterest on your face was hard to hide. It was the same script every time, and it got worse and worse the more you heard it. “I’m here for the fellowship.”

The merchant's demeanor changed completely. “What’s your business?”

“Report.”

“For?”

You rolled your eyes. If this guy wasn’t so uptight, he would have let you through by now. “I just need to talk to Rauf.”

He leaned back with a grunt. “Patch?”

“For the gods sake.” You reached up to your collar and flipped it towards him — your guild patch was sewed on the inside. He looked at it, then back to you; after a moment of contemplation, he pointed a thumb to the door behind him. You thanked him with an obnoxious smile, fixed your collar, and pushed through the back door.

Inside was a small area full of stock items. Secondhand swords, jars of alchemy ingredients — what you were interested in was the large barrel in the corner of the room. Moving it was only slightly difficult. It was only when you fully pushed it off the hatch door that the merchant came in the room — he probably wanted to let you suffer by making you move a barrel full of who knows what. You shook it off and opened the hatch, not bothering to use the ladder as you dropped down into the underground area.

As soon as your feet landed on the ground, the hatch above you was slammed shut, leaving you in almost complete darkness. You rolled your eyes at the new merchant’s attitude, but luckily, you knew your way around the room that, at first glance, looked like just another basement full of wares. You placed a hand on the stone walls and followed it all the way to the back corner, where a gate led to the sewers. But to you, it was more of a…glorified sewer.

You opened the gate and closed it behind you, then continued down the dark corridor. Rauf and the rest of the assassins were grateful for a place to stay in the city, no matter what senses they would have to sacrifice — in this case, the sense of smell. It definitely wasn’t the best temporary guild (not like the Oxenfurt one — that was a luxury compared to this), but you all dealt with it.

It took a couple turns through the underground area when the sound of laughter finally echoed against the walls; as you made a final turn, you were greeted with the main room where three other assassins were sitting at a table playing gwent — their assignments must have gone well, especially since they had time to play around. You walked past them with only a nod and turned another corner.

After the main room, there was a short walk to Rauf’s office. Office was a strong word. There was a table and some barrels, and it was one of the only places that didn’t have sewage leaking on the floors. The only thing that separated this area from the rest of the corridor was another iron gate whose door had been ripped off the hinges and was never replaced.

When you got to the ‘office’, Rauf was sitting at his desk, writing a letter intently. You knocked on the iron just next to what you all pretended was a door.

Without looking up, Rauf spoke. “You don’t need to knock, Y/N.”

You stepped inside but decided to lean against the gate. “Has Arnet stopped by?”

“No, he’s busy. Like me.” You stiffened. If Rauf hadn’t caught up with Arnet yet, it explained his sour attitude. He sighed and looked up to you from his desk. “I would hope for some good news, but your face tells me otherwise.”

You clenched your jaw. It always bothered you how well Rauf could read you. “Depends on how you look at it.”

“How should I look at it?”

You shifted. “The bard—my target. He could be innocent.”

Though Rauf could always read your expressions, you couldn’t read his. “What does that mean?”

“He wasn’t in Oxenfurt when the victim claimed he was.”

“And you know this because…?” Rauf leaned forward with false enthusiasm.

“He showed me a poster. For his event in Velen.”

Rauf put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. With just that movement, you could feel the disappointment shooting out from every part of his being. “And you gave him the chance to talk instead of getting the job done?”

“It’s…more complicated than that.” You felt yourself become defensive, almost predicting what Rauf would say if you took your emotions too far. But deep down you knew you did the right thing. You swallowed your harsh tone and tried to mask it, keeping your face as resigned as you could. “It’s a good thing I did. I might have killed an innocent man.”

“Might have.” Rauf stood up and placed both hands on the desk, his head falling down as he let out a sigh. He lifted his head, speaking slowly as he tapped his finger down on the desk with each word. “Why didn’t you bring the target here?”

It hadn’t crossed your mind to take the bard to the guild, partly because he seemed so…clueless. Almost annoyingly so. Bringing him to the guild would be more of a mess than was already made. Besides, there was the witcher.

You perked up, trying to hide your lack of response. “There was a witcher.”

Rauf’s eyebrows shot up, then quickly came down in another frown. “A witcher?”

“Yes. A friend of the bard.”

Rauf searched your face for a lie, though you rarely ever told one. You watched him shake his head once again, this time with concern. “I thought this might be too much for you—“

“It’s not.” You straightened up and took a step forward. “I got out alive, didn’t I? You just...worry too much, Rauf.”

“That, I do.” He nodded with a sad smile, then sat back down in his chair. “I’ll deal with the payer, see what happened there. It will probably take me some time to figure something out, but I’ll need you back here for the update—“

“I’ll go back and stick around them until you talk to the payer. They trust me enough—for now.” You couldn’t help the eagerness that radiated from you; something in your gut told you to get back to the inn as soon as possible.

You went to leave the office but turned around once more. “When you meet the payer, ask for some details about the target. Eye color, hair, other specifics. So we can be sure.”

“You got it, boss.” Rauf winked at you with his charming smile. You smirked and stepped out of his office, letting out a sigh of relief as you walked back through the corridors. Knowing Rauf wasn’t completely over the edge from work and the annoying inconvenience that was this assignment made you feel a little bit better. Now you would just have to stick around the two men who didn’t really trust you. Not that you blamed them.

“Y/N!” You were already down the corridor away from the main room when you heard the voice. Joneta, one of the other assassins, was running towards you, trying to catch up.

She eventually ran up next to you, walking with you as you both rounded the corners of the sewers. “Haven’t seen you since you lost gwent to me in Velen. Twice.”

You quirked a brow, “And I haven’t seen you since you shoved ale down that woman’s dress and got us kicked out of the Crossroads Inn.”

There was a sharp glare that you aimed at each other — what some would call deadly — but both of you soon broke into laughter. Joneta was the closest thing you had to a friend, despite rarely seeing her. She was also the closest one of the guild to your age, only being older by a couple years. You two had always been a bit competitive with each other’s assignments — she was the only one in the guild who didn’t treat you differently because of your closeness with Rauf.

“How have you been?” She asked as soon as your laughter had died down.

“Could be better.”

She sighed, “As usual. But at least we’re back in the wonderful city of Novigrad.”

As if on cue, a rat scuttled by your feet.

You snorted, “Wonderful.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, with only the sound of the sewers and your quiet footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

It didn’t take long for Joneta’s nosiness peak, though she tried to mask it with curiosity. “Heard you got the case of that bard, Julian—something.”

She was holding back, waiting for you to give her more information. But she knew you better than this — you hummed in response.

“Must be hard to go after such a ‘celebrity’.”

This time, you shrugged. But Joneta wouldn’t let up.

“Did you finish it yet?”

You avoided her eyes, instead staring at the path ahead of you. “Not quite.”

“Oh.” Knowing Joneta, her sentence was far from over. You peeked at her from the corner of your eye. 

Any second now.

She let out a dramatic sigh.

Bingo.

“Well, be warned. I’ve been keeping an eye out for him.” Your heart nearly stopped. “If you don’t get him soon, one of us will. Probably me.”

You halted in your tracks, turning yourself to face her. Despite her cheeky smile, or the mischievous glint in her eye, you couldn’t match it like you usually did. Your stomach felt like it was flipped inside out, the heat in your veins filling to a brim. Despite your change in demeanor, Joneta kept on smirking — you clenched your fist.

“The assignment is on stand by right now. Until Rauf gets more information.”

“Whatever makes you feel better about being behind.” You could barely move before she winked and began walking backward.“I’ll see you soon?” 

Without waiting for you to answer, she turned around and jogged back the way you came. Her figure disappeared in the darkness, leaving you to let out a shaky breath.

You finally released your clenched fist, barely looking down at the red marks your fingers had left before continuing through the sewers.

If Joneta was looking for the bard, he wasn’t going to be safe for long. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder why this made you so angry — you barely knew the bard, for the gods' sake. Maybe it was your anger at Rauf for not being more careful with assignments, or anger at yourself for getting into this mess. Either way, it was a good thing you made the witcher and bard go back to inn, or he would surely be at the end of another assassin’s sword. Still, the inn wouldn’t be safe for long — you had to get back to them, quick.

———————————————————————————————————

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[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [14]

Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

➜ Words: 3.7k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

He really is too much sometimes. But lately, it seems to be getting worse and worse.   “Is that my sweater, Taehyung?!”   He pulls on the sleeves and tugs on the collar as if he can dig his nose or hide his entire face in the soft material. “......maybe.”   You aren’t angry as much as you are perplexed. “Why?”   “Cause I love your clothes and they’re always bagging on you which makes it the perfect size for me!” He has a disgustingly coy expression on his face, staring at you with a bashful smile. “Did you buy them like this for that purpose? So we can share?”   “No.”   He bats his lashes and pretends he didn’t hear. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, dumbo. I know your true feelings deep, deep down. It’s okay, I mean I don’t blame you. How could you be able to resist someone like me? You can’t. Lucky for you though, I feel the same way. I like you too.”   Taehyung waltzes out of the room, having no plans of taking off or removing your oversized sweater that fits him well. He hums underneath his breath, walking away casually, leaving you baffled and confused.   There was definitely something not right about him.   It wasn’t that he’s become more insane — he’s always been some kind of crazy, reckless, and irresponsible. Nor is it that he’s in an unusually happy and bubbly mood lately. It’s that he’s been hitting on you to an extreme point….like he’s trying to achieve something. You don’t know what.   He’s always loved teasing you, but it’s become provocative, flirtatious. Taehyung’s become kittenish — playful, frisky, and he’s more serious about it. He commits to every joke with the utmost sincerity that you can barely tell if he’s sick or he really wants to get a rise out of you that badly.    Taehyung sing-songs when he calls you. “Dumbo~ where did you go?” He dotes on you, clings onto you. “Stand close to me, I have a feeling an attacker’s gonna jump out from the right and tickle me to death. I’m so scared.”   It would be bearable if that was it.    But he’s evolved into using greasy pick-up lines, to always move closer to you like you’re a magnet, to touch you lightly whenever he gets the chance, and to wink across the room as if no one else is watching.   When you tell him to go pee before the two of you leave, he’s gazing at you intensely without blinking. Like his life depends on it, he’s keen on holding eye contact with you — it doesn’t matter what you say, whether it’s important or not.   Taehyung not only pays close attention to every word that falls out of your mouth, he frequently compliments how strong you are while licking his lips with his tongue. He’s picked up a new habit of whispering in your ears too, allowing his hot breath to skim on your skin. And whenever you tell him that he’s pissing you off — he shrugs and apologizes despite clearly not meaning it.   “Hey, Namjoon.” Taehyung sticks his head through the front passenger window. “Can you get out?”   “I’m supposed to drive you, Taehyung.”   “Y/N can drive me.” He stands straighter and turns around. “Right?”   “No,” you deadpan. “I thought we agreed on this. Remember the last time?”   “We’re not gonna be chased. I’m not gonna get kidnapped.” The blonde male sighs. “I just don’t like to sit at the back of the car. I don’t need a damn chauffeur everywhere I go. That’s weird.”   “You can’t drive.”   “Yeah, but you can. And I can sit up front with you.”   “The chief—”   “Your dad can take it up with me. You’re supposed to serve me and my needs. You won’t get in trouble for something like this, trust me, alright?”   “I don’t serve anyone. I’m not a maid.”   “Yeah, but you’re my bodyguard. You’re my protector, so you gotta protect my mental state too and this would really, really help it.” There’s a second of silence and in the heat of the moment, Taehyung decides to spontaneously switch tactics. He pouts, eyes sad and he shakes your arm while swaying back and forth. He tries to convince you with his cute act, but you’re not amused in the least bit. “I’m not the President’s son. I don’t know anything about that. Right now I’m Taehyung….so, please, Y/N? Pretty, pretty please?”   But despite being irked by his behaviour, a drawn out exhale squeezes from your lungs. “You make me annoyed.”   Taehyung grins, aware that he’s won. “I know.”   You walk around, looking through the open window of the driver’s seat before pulling the door open. Namjoon’s brow raises, skeptical and surprised you gave in so easily. “Are you sure about this?”   “I don’t know.” There’s no reason to lie. “But I’ll handle whatever happens.”   That’s a good enough answer for the strapping brunette and he shrugs, getting out, not willing to put up a fight lest Taehyung throws another tantrum. It’s not his job to decide what’s best for him after all — he doesn’t get paid enough for that.   Taehyung slides into the passenger seat and turns to stare at you. His cheeks nearly burst with his enormous grin, happy to get his way. “One day I’ll learn how to drive properly, so I can take you around instead.”   “No, thanks. I’d rather stay alive and not die in an accident,” you mutter, putting the keys in the ignition and firing up the engine. He scoffs and argues it’ll be fine, but doesn’t put up much of a fight as he leans back, savouring the moment.   It’s so entirely mundane and something he’s so happy over. Maybe it’s because he finally feels normal, that it’s just the two of you driving to some destination, and he’s not a person of different status in the backseat with you and a driver up front.   If this is all that takes to make him happy, you’ll find ways to always achieve it.   “I’ve been thinking about something and I’ve finally decided,” he says out of the blue over some generic pop song playing over the radio. “I’m going to help you.”   “Help me?” You’re skeptical, sparing a glance to the person beside you. “How?”   “I’m going to help you adjust to real society, so that you’re healthy and normal and no longer emotionally stunted.”   “I am healthy and ‘normal’, Taehyung.”   He ignores you, continuing and really convincing himself as he talks and nods. “No one likes talking to a robot.” You let out a long sigh. “You trust me, right? It’ll help you get closer to your dad too. Nothing’s gonna change if you don’t do anything about it, and he probably thinks you’re well-adjusted. You don’t want to disappoint him, right? But rest assured, I’ll try my best….”   There’s a drawn out silence that you savour. “Are you bored, Taehyung? Don’t you have an art project due in a week?”   He gasps dramatically and you feel his gaze boring into the side of your face. It was better when he was in the backseat and stared through the rear view mirror — at least that was easier to ignore. “I’m offering you my help and you think it’s because I’m bored and have nothing better to do?! That’s only a little true! But I’m mostly doing this out of the goodness of my own heart! You should be thanking me.”   Your tone drips of sarcasm. “Thanks.”   Yet, Taehyung still grins, taking it very literal. “You’re very welcome.”   You have an inkling of what’s to come and you’re not excited in the least bit. Sure, you don’t know what exactly is in store, but when it comes to Taehyung and especially with his recent behaviour, you know it can’t be good. The emotion that you feel, you quickly realize, is dread.   Dread. Though in a way, he is showing you how to feel more emotions — you’ve never felt this kind of reluctance and apprehension in a long time.   Once the car is parked, you get out and lock the doors, stuffing the keys in your pocket. The parking garage is empty, echoing with his running footsteps. Taehyung catches up to you at the speed of light, almost like he’s trying to tackle you. But instead, he throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close into his body.   You jolt before glaring at him. Though it’s futile. Taehyung is undeterred by it and he even secures his hold on you, almost nuzzling his forehead into your hair.   He offers the cheesiest grin possible to explain what the hell he’s doing. “People are naturally affectionate, dumbo. It’s part of human survival. You shouldn’t be flinching every time someone gets close to you, y’know.”   You say nothing.   The hairs on the back of your neck have risen. Your blood is pumping, and it’s not because you’re especially flustered from his touch or that butterflies have migrated to the pits of your stomach to flutter their wings around. No, it’s nothing romantic. Rather, it’s the urge to tackle him to the floor that’s been ingrained into your muscle memory.    When someone touches you — they want to fight you.   Or at least it’s what’s been ingrained into your system.   If only Taehyung knew your internal conflict, he’d be scared enough to let you go.   “When was the last time you hugged someone?”   “I don’t know.”   “Well let’s change that right now.” Suddenly he stops in the middle of the parking garage where you both could get hit by a car. Taehyung unknowingly pours gasoline into the fire of your internal turmoil by spinning, throwing his other arm around your waist, and pulling you into a tender hug.   Your knees bend. You grip his arm. You’re automatically put into a fighting stance.   But somehow, Taehyung doesn’t budge whatsoever. It’s as if he was expecting it. The college student leans his weight on you, his own knees bent, his feet rooted into the ground. He is an unmoving force that refuses to be pulled down. And the pair of you are stuck at a standstill.   “It’s okay to relax,” he murmurs into your ear. “No one’s gonna attack you from a hug.”   It’s not affectionate or soothing in the least bit. Your pupils are dilated — adrenaline pumping — flight or fight instincts kicking in full force. It’s only forced logic that makes you resist your urges. Your utmost priority is to protect him after all and throttling him would be counter-productive.   But If an outsider saw the two of you right at this moment, they’d probably be repelled at the sight. It’s much less of an embrace and more like you’re about to wrestle each other.   “Says you.”   “Stop panicking, it’s okay.”   “I hate this.”   Taehyung lets go, putting his hands on your shoulders and stepping back at a more comfortable and breathable distance from you. He smiles gently. “That’s okay too. But it’s not so bad, right?”   “No, it’s bad.”    Hugs are downright awful.   He scoffs and continues to walk alongside you, syncing his footsteps in yours. “Pft, you act like I’m subjecting you to some kind of torture.”   “It is torture. It’s sweaty and gross.”   “Wow I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you five? Next you’re going to be talking about how you don’t want to catch cooties.”   “Hey, I remember for a fact that you were the seven year old who always shrieked whenever I touched you. Didn’t you call me diseased?”   Taehyung laughs at the memory. He ends up leaning in closer to you, the back of his hand purposely brushing yours. The blonde takes the leap and leans down to clasp your hand, holding it tight and squeezing it comfortingly.   Except you jab him in his gut with your elbow, shoving him back.   Taehyung is left behind, wheezing, wind knocked out of him. Still, he gives you a thumbs up and a pained grin, telling you that was a pretty good one.   //   The flirting does not cease, not even in class.   Taehyung stares and purposely knocks his elbow against yours when he’s scribbling notes. Then he not-so accidentally drops his pencil on the floor near your feet and when you both bend down at the same time to pick it up, he retains intense eye contact and brushes your hand with his fingers. It’s distracting and when you look over, he hasn’t written a single thing down.   All Taehyung does is doodle your name and put hearts around them. He even muffles his laughter behind his hand in the lecture hall when he sees your outright disgusted expression you no longer try to hide.   When the hour’s over, he rides his bike exceptionally fast so you can hang on tighter to him. He calls you cute and holds you like his favourite teddy bear. He tries to spoon-feed you lunch, and that’s where you draw the line. But it doesn’t help the situation when other people think he’s head over heels for you — whispering about how sweet and cute he is as you both walk past, giggling and always looking over….   You must admit, it’s impressive.   Taehyung’s obviously switched tactics and now he’s wearing you down faster than you thought was possible. By the end of the day, you are truly exhausted and overwhelmed. Like Namjoon, you don’t get paid enough for this.    “Is everything to your liking, sir?”   “Wow.” One arm is propped up, holding his head as he lies on his side on the bed, body bathed in the dim light coming from the lamp next to him and making him glow. “I hate being called by anything other than my actual name, but I really wouldn’t mind you calling me that again. I might prefer ‘master’ though. Give it a try.”   “Can I leave or not, Taehyung?”   “Boo, you’re no fun.” He sits up with a pout. “And why do you want to leave so soon? I thought we could….play a little.”   “I’m tired and I’d like to leave. We have an early morning tomorrow too. Your class starts at nine.”   A sly smirk pulls on his mouth and his irises twinkle. “You could just stay over. That would make it easier for the both of us.” Reaching your limit completely, you move to switch the light off and you turn away to the door. But at the last second, Taehyung calls out to you. Desperation meets your ears. “Wait, Y/N! I was just joking….please don’t leave.”   You linger at the doorway before turning back around so he can see the profile of your visage.   Taehyung’s playful and mischievous expression has wiped off. What’s taken its place is hesitance and traces of fear. “I….want you to stay.”   “What’s wrong?” Your own voice softens, recognizing his earnestness, how his timbre was tender and husky around the edges.   “I can’t sleep,” he murmurs. “Well, I can, but not well. I’m….scared and I keep getting nightmares of that time I was taken by those people...except, you never came to rescue me and I was on my own….I just...want you to stay with me. For a little bit. If that’s okay with you.”   It’s quiet and you recognize it well from having it seen in your colleagues back when you were still on the force — how trauma has made its mark on him. “We need to book a therapist.”   “No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been to one before, many times, and it’s fine...but it’s not what I need. Not right now.”   Taehyung wants someone to be with him.   Someone that’s not paid to be.   You gaze at him, staring, breath held in your throat. And then your hand slips off the doorknob.   You do a complete round as usual around his apartment, looking out the windows and onto the street, drawing the curtains after the premise is checked. The doors are locked again, deadbolts in place, and you peek to make sure nothing’s out of the ordinary, that there’s no hiding intruder.    But instead of leaving, the last thing you do is enter Taehyung’s bedroom.   The door closes behind you.   “What...the hell are you doing?”   Taehyung sits up again. This time, he’s appalled, the covers falling down to pool around his lap.   “I’m making sure you’re safe.”   His hand extends as if he’s trying to show someone else how ridiculous this is, baffled beyond coherent speech. “You look like you’re part of a horror movie!”   You don’t see a problem with it — you’re just sitting in the dark. And in the corner of his room. Perched in an armchair with your arms on the rest and your back straight. Your eyes are wide open and staring at the door. A sleek handgun is prepared in your lap.   He cries out in protest, “I’m gonna get more nightmares from this!”   “You’ll be safe this way.”   “No.” Taehyung peels the corner of the covers and pats a spot beside him. “Come here. Lay here with me. I’m not kidding, Y/N. I’m not letting you sit in the corner of my room with you like that. It’s creepy as fuck.” He crawls over the bed and grabs your arm. A muffled yell tears from your mouth before you fall onto his mattress and he’s pulling you in, getting comfortable.   “I can’t fight in this compromising position,” you mutter against his chest. But it doesn’t stop him from holding you, arms wrapped around your abdomen like you’re his body pillow, leg thrown over yours, cuddling your frame.   It’s horrible, sweaty, and way too warm.   “No one’s going to attack us in my apartment. There’s a whole security system in this place,” Taehyung mumbles. “You know that.”   “Yeah but don’t you want to feel safe? I thought that was the point.”   “I want you beside me.” There’s a moment of silence. “If you’re that uncomfortable, you can leave….I-...I won’t force you to stay if you don’t want to.”   You consider it, but it doesn’t take a lot of deliberation to come up with a decision. “I’m fine.”   For just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax and be beside him. To you, it goes beyond a sense of duty, more than being part of your job. It’s a desire to make him feel comfortable and safe at any cost.   “It feels like we’re kids again.” Taehyung laughs at a low volume, breaking the peace in his quaint bedroom. You can hear his thundering heartbeat against your ear — but you suppose any kind of human physical contact warrants that response. “We should have a bubble bath together. I promise I won’t touch. I’ll only look.”   Your eyes roll, even if he can’t see. “We never shared a bath.”   “Yeah, but we should.”   “No.”   He giggles and it’s pleasant to listen to. “We did share a kiddie pool together. Remember? I had these rubber duck arm floaties with me and some pool toys. You were supposed to teach me how to swim. Didn’t your dad teach you?”   “Kind of.” Your eyes shut and even when it goes against what your intentions, you’re lulled, no longer as alert as a few minutes ago. The corner of your mouth still moves. “He put me in an adult swim class so I could learn.”   “Oh.”   “He punctured holes in my floaties when I wanted to use them. Said I didn’t need it and wouldn’t have it on me if I was drowning.”   “That’s….” Taehyung searches for the right word. “....intense.”   You hum a soothing note and the corner of your mouth quirks as another memory surfaces. “Didn’t you push me in the actual pool? In the deep end?”   “And you survived!” He chuckles and snuggles you closer. “Guess your dad’s strategy worked after all.”    “I remember you shoved me down a waterslide when I wasn’t ready too.”   “Huh. I don’t really recall—”   “You tried tripping me up the stairs and laughed when I slipped in a puddle.”   “You have a fantastic memory, don’t you, dumbo?” Taehyung grins, though he isn’t sure why you’re bringing it up now. You’ve accepted his apology, but he’ll apologize as many more times as he needs to. He was an idiot back then — he still is.   Your voice drops, rumbling in your chest. “That’s cause I remember everyone who does me wrong.”   There’s a pause, the threat lingering in the air. He gulps and glances over. “Would you look at the time?! It’s almost midnight! We should go to bed. Got an early morning tomorrow! No more talking! Goodnight, dumbo. Sweet dreams.”   “Are you going to let me go?”   “Shhh…..” He shushes you, and when you mumble a ‘goodnight’ back, he smiles.   Taehyung eventually drifts off. You listen to the way his breathing softens and steadies, noticing how his chest rises and lower with snores. His grip eventually loosens, though he still hugs onto you. The furrow of his brows relaxes when he knows you’re still with him.   It takes time, but soon you’ve also become sleepy enough, drowsiness taking over and pulling you halfway through consciousness and dreams. In this state, the day’s events sink into your bones, muscles, and mind.    You don’t think it’s normal to hold hands or to share a bed like this with a friend, even if it’s a childhood friend. At least not like this.   The way he holds you is intimate, nearly encompassing your entire frame. You never realized how broad his shoulders were, no longer that of the child that you once knew. Taehyung’s body is warm, his presence pleasant to be beside and making the darkness much less intimidating.   Whenever you squirm away, he unconsciously gets closer, and you find yourself smiling.   While you might not know a lot, it’s clear that it’s not normal to be in a position like this with someone who’s merely a friend. But Taehyung’s more than that. Maybe you just never thought about it deeply before. Maybe it’s just always been a part of your subconscious, but you never once put a name to it. Like your emotions that you felt and merely subdued down…   He’s not just a friend. He’s—   You’ve fallen asleep before you can finish your own thought.

[winryofresembool]

ToN spoilers (from the second last chapter) 

I have now almost finished reading this entire book (I had to stop yesterday before the final chapter because I was feeling things and I didn’t want it to ruin the rest of my reading experience) and I really really need to rant about Caleo rn from a shipper’s pov. I’m hoping to write a more ‘general opinion’ post on ToN eventually (probably not today tho) but this is gonna be about Caleo’s situation.

So yes, I was not happy with how things ended up going with Caleo in ToA. After talking with my friend, tho (bless you, Cris, you are the bestest support when I’m having a fangirl meltdown), it made me realize that when things went the way they did in TDP, maybe the “break”/Calypso being away at the camp was the most logical thing to happen right now. Leo and Calypso had been very intensely together (alone) for over 6 months and dealt with a lot during that time. Of course when you go through something like that, you will also get to see the worst sides of each other and it’s only natural that after that they would need a mental break. 

Of course there were also other things restraining the relationship; Calypso was probably having a huge culture shock after being stranded on her island for thousands of years, conflicted about being a mortal now and also upset about losing her magic powers, which she was still working on at the end of TDP. Leo, still being kind of immature and obnoxious occasionally didn’t really know how to deal with that stuff, which partially explains Calypso’s nagging in TDP. But I think the story would really have benefited for showing us what Calypso really felt during ToA because right now the reasons (apart from the ones that I listed above) for her rude behavior are not super obvious and even made me question what she’s currently feeling towards Leo. The only parts where she visibly showed she cared in TDP that I can remember were when Apollo stated during his and Calypso’s zoo quest that Calypso seemed to be regretting the earlier fight with Leo and at the end when Leo told her he’d be going to CJ to warn the people there and she was upset yet understanding about it. Add that to the fact that Leo was on his trip with Festus probably for several weeks and obviously upset about Jason’s death, which made me feel weird about Calypso deciding to go away for a long period of time so soon after he returned (I think Jason died late March/early April and it’s said to be summer at the end of ToN). But anyway, I think a lot of that could be fixed if we saw things from Cal and Leo’s point of views instead of Apollo’s (if Rick is gonna create issues like that I’d at least like to understand why).

Back to what we learn in ToN: at least we find out that Leo is still as lovesick as ever and he seems to be working on his behavior with the help of the wonderful people in Waystation. I really, really adored Reyna in that scene (hello guys a new fave has been born ♥), the way she educates him about not using the word mamacita and also says that Calypso will come around, Leo does have a golden heart under all that roughness after all. Thinking about that part still makes me hopeful that the break will do good for them and once Calypso is back maybe the 2 dumbos will realize that they need to talk things out and they’ll eventually make it work.

[sylvain-writes]

Scarlet Letters (TMNT Raphael x Reader)

Chapter 4/8: Tough Love

Getting Raphael to open up takes a little push, but you don’t need to tiptoe; this turtle’s not one to run from a little confrontation. Raphael reveals some insecurities. And you learn there’s power in a name.

(Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ao3)

All is quiet as you kneel between Raphael’s thighs.  The flickering candles give off just enough light for you to catch his features as they shift from curiosity to something like the looks of interest you’ve brushed off from people who don’t interest you in the same way.  

To be fair, no one has interested you the way Raphael does.  No one has consumed your thoughts so quickly, found their way into your heart so easily.  He overwhelms you by degrees.

As you consider the horrible dates of your past and the uniquely interesting night this has turned out to be, you absentmindedly caress the taut skin on the insides of his knees.  

Raphael’s stomach growls, and you can’t help but laugh at the interruption.  You wonder how long you would have continued, lost in each other’s stare, if his hunger hadn’t made itself known.

“I’ll make us something,” you say as you bring yourself to your feet.  You allow your hand to pass over Raphael’s shoulder until your fingertips graze the edge of his shell.  Your stomach swoops at his shudder.  It’s not your imagination when Raphael leans back on the stool to prolong your touch. 

At the pantry, jars of tomato sauce, cans of soup, and boxes of sundry non perishables stare back at you from the well-stocked shelves.  “So, Red," you call over your shoulder, "do you have any dietary restrictions I should know about?”  

It feels weird even admitting to yourself that you researched turtle diets before the power went out and your wifi switched over to data.  You don’t dare share that bit of information aloud.

The grunt Raphael gives in response is gruff.  “Whateva’s fine,” he says, voice clipped.  It's such a stark difference from the softness and warmth you'd seen radiating from his eyes, that you pull up short.  You turn to face him.  But he isn't looking at you.  

He wears a pinched expression as he picks at the bandage on his thigh.

Your eyebrows knit together and you feel the frown on your lips, but you decide it's best to let him be for now.  He's been through so much in such a short time. 

⁂

They say it’s an old wives’ tale; they say you can’t really sense someone looking at you while your back is turned.  But as you move around the kitchen, you can tell.  His eyes follow you.  

It’s not the soft gaze you were falling into just moments ago.  This look is piercing.  There’s heat to it that you don’t understand.  You think maybe you’ve done something wrong, but Raphael is short with words and it’s hard to come up with a reason on your own.  

“Everything OK?” you ask from the stove, trying not to let your uncertainty shine through your voice.  The lack of response raises your concern to new heights.  "Red?"  When you turn to face the room, the turtle is nowhere to be seen.  His absence leaves a hollow feeling in your stomach. 

Feeling even more unsettled than before, you add a thawing bag of kale to the saucepan.  Hopefully, with this addition, the chicken vegetable soup won’t taste too much like the can from which it was dumped.  

You’ll impress him with your culinary prowess some other time, you think.  If you get the chance.  At the thought of exchanging goodbyes, your heart stops beating.  When you consider never seeing him again, your heart feels like it’s forgotten how to start back up.

There’s no sound of Raphael’s reentry, but you feel his presence filling the room when he returns.  The smell of the soup must have drawn him from exploring the other rooms.  You don’t mind him wandering.  After waking up in a strange place, you figure you’d feel more comfortable if you saw a proper layout of your surroundings as well.  All that matters is his return.

Raphael peers into the pot and sniffs the air.  There’s no hum of approval.  No request for a taste or suggestion to adjust the seasoning.  You wonder if he’ll eat what you’ve prepared, if it’ll be enough to satisfy his appetite.  When you ask for his opinion on rice versus noodles, all he gives you are short huffs and a crooked side-eye.

After ten minutes of worrying what it means when he looks at you like this or what he’s trying to convey when he grunts like that, you give up trying to doctor the soup.  If all he's going to do is drift in and out of the shadows glaring at you, maybe he should prepare his own damn meal.  

You’re about to call him back over to take your place at the stove when you hear him gasp from across the room.  Apparently ‘making himself comfortable’ on the couch isn’t going so well. Another shock of pain catches him off-guard and he lets out a short hiss.  It twists your heart.  

Never one to let someone suffer alone, you ladle some soup into bowls and bring them over to the table.  “You’ll be more comfortable here,” you say, not unkindly. Not that he deserves more of your kindness with the way he lifts his nose to the air and sneers.  “I won’t let you stain my carpet or my couch,” you clarify, “so if you’re gonna eat, eat at the table.  It’s soup.  It’s hot.  It’s good for you.”  You think that last statement is the truth.  You really tried to fix him something appropriate.

Raphael does eventually come over to eat.  He’s cordial, but there’s a distance between you - more than the space of the table that separates your seats.  He forgoes the spoon, in favor of lifting the bowl to drink straight from its side.  Despite his reluctance to join you for the meal, he drains the bowl without complaint.  

“Do you want more?”

His answer is a shrug and you’re not sure what the hell you’re supposed to make of that.  “It’s a simple question, Red,” you sharpen your gaze, trying to get a read on him.  “Yes or no?”  You don’t mean to snap, but you’re exasperated and tired.  Damn, you think, dragging your hands over your face; you’re so very tired. 

You watch the lines of his face dance.  Surprise looks foreign on his features.  “Are you talkin’ t’ me?”  

The way he's acting, you'd think no one's ever called him out on his attitude before.  “Who the hell else would I be talking to? I’ve been trying to talk to you all night.  Not that you owe me anything-” you hold up your hands to signify a truce “-cause you don’t, but I brought you in, patched you up, and now you act like… like none of that means anything.”  You’d thought it meant something.  It was really starting to feel like it meant something.

At Raphael’s lack of response, you grab his bowl from the table and fill it at the stove.  At least while he was eating, his silence was warranted.  

You’re getting twisted up in your emotions.  You need to get a grip.  Before taking the second helping over to Raphael, you place it down hard on the countertop.  With a tight hold on the edge of the counter, you take a steadying breath.  You’re not being fair.  Raphael didn’t ask for any of this.  It’s your own fault, if you’ve been reading more into the brief moments of tenderness between you and this guy....  this guy who, for all intents and purposes, is still very much a stranger.

As you lift the soup bowl again, you mutter half-to-yourself, half-to-Raphael, “Geez, Red.  You never heard, ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you’?”

It’s the wrong thing to say, the wrong button to push.  You know it the minute Raphael’s cheeks flush a deep emerald.  

“I ain’t some stray you brought in from the street.  You think I’m gonna curl up at ya feet just cause you pet my head and tell me I’m a good boy?  I ain’t no pet.”

“Good!” You shoot back. And it does feel good to release some of the tension between you like this.  Finally you’re saying what you want to say the moment you want to say it without fear he’ll leave.  Because he could have tried to leave at any moment.  He could be gone.  But he’s staying.  Raphael’s not one to back down from a fight.  As soon as you realize that, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Good,” you reiterate, “cause I hate pets.”  You take another deep breath and, with the worry that Raphael would disappear into the storm fading, this breath centers you in a way the last one didn’t. When you speak again you’re level-headed and calm.  “But I could use a friend, ya know?  And it looked like you coulda used one too.”  

"Friend," he scoffs as if the word is a farce.

It is.  For you.  You look at him and see someone who already means more to you than any friend ever has.  

You two are locked in a stare until you shake your head to break free of the spell.  “Look, as soon as the storm passes, I’ll help you get home.  It can’t be too far, right?”

Raphael holds his side as he stands from the table.  It’s as if it takes a little pressure to ease the pain of moving.  

“Whaddaya mean, ‘can't be too far'?  Whadda you know, huh?  Who d'you work for?"

"No one,” you answer quickly.  Then amend, “Well, the Urgent Care over in DUMBO, but… No one important, I swear." 

"Then why would ya know whereabouts I live, huh?” The way he sidesteps the stool, you think he’s going to head off to the living room or disappear down the hall.  Instead, he plants his feet, folds his arms over his chest, and looks down at you in accusation.

You look up at him, a little perturbed by his distrust but… there’s something about him, even as he towers over you, that isn’t as menacing as it ought to be.  He doesn’t scare you.  

He doesn’t scare you, and you suspect that’s because, deep down, he isn’t trying to.  Or maybe with other people he never really has to try.  Afterall, he’s huge, tattooed, and scarred.  He’s a giant turtle -- a mutant, if you take the story about the ooze literally.  Were you supposed to?  He was half-delirious in that bath.  You blink a few times to clear your thoughts.  Now, really, isn’t the time to lose focus.

Leaning back to meet his eyes, to make sure he knows you haven’t been spooked, you speak plainly.  “Your accent; you’re from Brooklyn.”  

You’ve lived in the city your whole life.  Mostly in the Bronx, but that was more because your surviving parent was looking to put some distance between you and that block in lower Manhattan where your father was attacked.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess Raphael sounds most at home right here by the piers.  

“I’m from nowhere." Raphael states like it's a fact.  "‘Cause ain’t nobody thinks I’m nothin’.”  His feet shuffle beneath him; he’s anxious to move.  Your hands itch to reach out in a request for him to stay put.  “As far as the world is concerned,” he continues, “I’m no one; I don’t exist.”

The muscles of Raphael’s jaw tick as he clenches his teeth.  He raises his eyes to the ceiling and you know this is a now-or-never moment, a time to speak up.  

“You’re wrong,” you begin, anxiety filling your chest and pushing your heart into your throat.  “You’re somebody to me.”  

"Ya don't even know my name."

"What?  Of course I know your…" 

Raphael turns away.

You can feel the tightness of your forehead as your brow furrows.  You can hear the heat in your voice.  What was meant to be a gentle sentiment is carried fiercely by your determination for Raphael to listen to what you have to say.  “Even when you were barely able to stand on your own two feet, you were ready to defend me.”

The glance he spares is wary.  You take it as a sign to carry on.  

“You could have run, hidden, but you stayed by my side.  You came with me to the door ready to fight.”

Raphael swallows hard, but his defensiveness remains solidly in place.  “O’ course I did.  Ya didn’t know who coulda been out there.”

“That’s what I mean.”  You face him straight on.  Your eyes lock on his with an intensity you think is only meant for the movies.  “You could have been killed, but you were fearless.”

Raphael flinches.  He tightens his arms around himself.

“What did I say?”  You look at him, eyes wide with compassion.  Something in him has changed.  He’s pulling away again.  “Don’t do that, please.”  Your hand hovers in the air between you.  “Don’t shut me out.  Raphael,” you plead, “tell me what I said.”

When his attention snaps to you, you’re hit with the realization that you’ve never spoken his name aloud before.  The syllables feel right as the name builds in your chest and passes through your lips again.  But at the same time, it feels like too much, like now that you’ve said it, you’ve revealed feelings you can’t take back.

[brownangel07]

NCT 127 reaction - first time saying the L word

(Disclaimer - fluff ahead)

Taeyong:

“Whatever dress you try on will look beautiful on you stop worrying” Tae says trying to reassure you.

“You’re only saying that because you want me to hurry up” you respond, changing your outfit again.

Turning you around to face him, his hands lightly squishes both of your cheeks together so your lips pucker out.

His lips instantly meets yours in a quick peck loving the taste of the strawberry lip balm you put on.

“Don’t wear anything if you can’t find clothes” he says winking at you, making you laugh.

“I don’t even know why I love you sometimes” you say jokingly, slapping his chest.

Letting go of your cheeks, Taeyong stares bewildered at you.

“You love me?” He questions

“Yes idiot now hurry up and help me pick something”

Smiling at you, he reconnects his lips with yours in a more slow loving kiss.

Taeil:

“Hurry up the movie is starting” you rush Taeil to sit down with the popcorn in between you two.

Finally sitting down, he passes you your favourite drink, and candy that he secretly brought in.

“When did you buy this?” You ask smiling at him, already eating the candy.

“When you went in without me” he whispers getting looks from the people besides you in the cinema.

“I love you” you whisper back, clasping both of your hands together.

Taeil cheeks blush even under the dark lights, knowing he was smiling hard.

“I love you too”

“Can you two shut up!” someone whispers harshly, eyes dagger at both of you.

Both of you turn to look at each other, eyes wide open, already feeling the deep laughter that was threatening to spill any second.

Johnny:

“Johnny we’re lost let’s just ask for help”

Glancing at you, his lips purse in irration clearly not liking to be wrong.

“John please we’ve passed this shop like a billion times” you try again.

Eventually, he stops asking for direction to the venue you were supposed to be at.

“See that wasn’t that bad” you say, placing your hand on top of his.

“Yeah yeah” he mutters out annoyed by something.

“Hey Johnny... I love you” you admitted waiting for his reaction.

A grin forms on his face, not expecting you to say it so soon.

“I know” he chuckles at you, not upset anymore.

“Why were you upset?”

“because you said you loved the dog first then to me” he says childishly.

Yuta:

“I’m going to beat you, just give up now” Yuta’s fingers, latch onto your waist, tickling you.

“Stop it!” You shout, tears spilling out of your eyes from the laughter.

“Say it y/n, say it and I’ll let go” he tries persuading you.

“I w-ont ever S-ay it” you struggle getting your words out trying to catch your breath

Yuta clearly wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, so you reach up kissing his soft lips stopping his actions for a second.

His tongue slips out meeting yours half way, to which you let him lead the kiss.

Yuta’s hands make their way down to your thighs, pulling them up to wrap around his waist.Leaning away for air, you stare up at him lovingly.

“I love you...moments like this between us” you mutter to him.

His face blushes a light pink, moving to hide near your neck so you can’t see how emotional you got him.

Jaehyun:

“You’re doing it great” you encourage Jae whilst he tries to make your dad favourite dish.

“Are you sure because I feel like I’m doing this wrong” he says trying to form the dough in a ball. Unfortunately for him it keeps separating, or crumbling in his hands.

“Should i pour more of this?” He questions already pouring it in.

“Nooo don’t....” You shout hands reaching to stop him but it was to late.

“You see I can’t do this, he’s going to hate me more” He glumly sulks giving up.

“At least you tried....maybe let me make it and I’ll say you did?” You try making him happy whilst he pouts at you.

“You want me to lie to your dad, he’ll hate me even more. I just want him to like me.”

“To be honest babe, you’re shit at this so don’t even think of trying to make this and giving my dad food poisoning. Also I love you so it doesn’t matter” Jae chuckles at your bold statement,

“You’re supposed to be nice to me and you lov...wait what” A puzzled look crosses over his face not thinking he heard you correctly.

“Yes dumbo you heard right I love you, don’t make a big deal out of it” you rush out getting embarrassed by his intense stare.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it?!”He shouts picking you in a tight hug, he spins you around hearing your loud laughter.

Winwin:

“Ewwww stop I don’t want to kiss you” you joke, trying to detach yourself away from his tight embrace.

“Give me loveeeeee” win tries to steal another kiss from you but you turn away last minute making him laugh.

“Win carry on and I swear that’s it” his arms instantly let go of you, giving you the cutest puppy dog eyes he could muster up.

“You’re going to clean those dam dishes whether you like it or not, stop trying to seduce me” his lips pucker out completely ignoring what you just said.

“Ugh but I don’t want to, should I do aegyo I know you secretly love it” he observes your face waiting on your answer.

“No that’s so cringeyyy” you moan out, knowing that you don’t like it.

“Was that a yes? Alright then” he smiles evilly at you getting ready to start.

Your hands quickly rush over to stop him, causing you to slap his mouth.

“Ouch” he mutters, moving your hands away from him.

“Oh shit sorry baby I didnt mean to” you say worried about his now growing pink cheeks and chin.

He pouts at you still playing the facade hoping you will buy into it.

Pecking his lips, you continue to pepper him with kisses.

“You want me to kiss it all better baby, I’ll do it because I love you” your voice going abnormally high, loving to see his face while you do you aegyo.

Winwin’s blush takes over his whole face, flushed by the aegyo and you telling him you love him.

Jungwoo:

“Stop being so scared” you tease, jungwoo for not wanting to go out and play with the snow.

“You’re going to push me I know you will” he groans to himself, already stepping outside.

Cheekily you jog over to a hiding spot so he couldn’t see you.

Grabbing as much snow as you could, you form it into a ball shape aiming towards him.

Throwing the ball at his chest, Jungwoo realises you just wanted a snow fight.

You both go on for what seemed to be hours playing in the snow until you finally offered to get some hot chocolate.

“Let’s go” you say walking back in the house.

Watching his struggling to walk made you want to bust out laughing but you hold it in quite well.

Giving him a slight push when he wasn’t looking, you watch as his arms instantly grip onto yours pulling you down with him.

“I knew you were going to do that” his smile beams up at you.

You both laid down on the snow side by side, just staring up at the gloomy sky.

Turning your head to face him you utter the words that have been dying to be released.

“I love you Jungwoo”

The corners of his mouth, makes it’s way up whilst his hand goes to your cheek brushing away the snow that had fallen on it.

“I love you too y/n”

Mark:

“I’m allergic to it...nuts” you mumble.

Mark’s head shoots at your direction, nearly having a heart attack thinking you had already fallen asleep.

“Nuts” you giggle in your sleep by the word.

Soon mark realised you were sleep talking.

He sighs in relief, going back to the game he was playing on his phone.

“Mmm nuts...I’m not allergic to his” you giggle again, making mark choke on his saliva.

His flushed cheeks, burned a deep red not being able to help the slight boner that was forming.

“She’s sleep talking Mark, get ahold of yourself” he mutters to himself.

Once he thinks you stopped, you surprise him again.

“I love him...Mark...and his nuts” you mumble clear enough for him to hear it, turning on your side your sleep talk stops the only sound heard is your loud snores.

“She loves me, and my nuts” he laughs to himself, thinking of ways to embarrass you with this new information.

Haechan:

“Promise you won’t get mad” Haechan tries to make you sit down hoping somehow it might make the news less damaging.

“I’m not promising that if you’re about to tell me something that will make me angry”

Taking in a deep breath Haechan finally speaks.

“I broke your laptop” he rushes out, quickly running away to lock himself in the bathroom so you won’t kill him.

“You what!” Yelling at the top of your lungs, you run after him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I know you said not to play with it but it was a accident” Haechan explains, but your banging on the door and pulling at the knob caused you not to hear him clearly.

“Open this door right now Haechan” you say with a deadly voice.

“No you’re going to kill me”

Clearing your throat you try to speak with a softer tone.

“Come on out baby, I won’t hurt you I love you too much to kill you”

The door swings open, revealing a tear eyed Haechan.

“Oh baby it’s not that big of deal...don’t cry I can get it fixed” you try comforting him.

“But all your work was on there”

“It’s fine Haechan honestly” you say pulling him into a hug.

“You won’t kill me right..because you love me?” Giggling at his scared tone you place a gentle kiss on his lips reassuring him again.

******************************************

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [7]

masterlist

Words: 8.2k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: some bullying

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: oof this turned out so much longer than I was planning but oh well! engoy everyone! 😊

You sat next to Tae and Jimin, with Hobi directly across from you, as you all ate dinner. Much to your pleasant surprise, Jin had let you help prep the evening’s meal, though he still didn’t let you actually cook. But you didn’t mind, you were just happy to help.

You released a contentful sigh as you swallowed a big bite; closing your eyes and relishing in the taste, the breeze, and the lingering light of the setting sun through the leaves. As you reopened your lids, you stole a glance to your right to where Jungkook was having a serious conversation with his leader. You wouldn’t lie and say that you weren’t curious as to what they were speaking about. It sort of looked like Namjoon was lecturing the younger Saeni, but with your normal hearing, you couldn’t tell for sure. A part of you wanted to ask the boys sitting next to you if they could listen in, but you held yourself back. It wasn’t your place to pry. You squinted in the low light while taking in Jungkook’s demeanor. You could only see his back, but you still managed to catch sight of his hand twitching as if it was aching to clutch the handle of his dagger. You hummed and pursed your lips, wondering what exactly was agitating the male this time. For a change, it shouldn’t have been you. After your rather loud outburst that morning, Jungkook had not spoken to you. You don’t think he had even looked at you since.

That’s a good thing, dumbo. You reminded yourself.

But for some reason, you felt a little off that he hadn’t sent you a single glare since you had stormed away. You couldn’t pinpoint which was weirder for you: not getting multitudes of scowls from the asshat or that you almost missed them. It wasn’t like you enjoyed them, per say, but they were basically a routine by now. As uninviting as they were, they were a permanent fixture in the crazy, unpredictable days of Illain. But that coconut head had to go and throw a wrench into your already turned upside-down world. Your hum transitioned into a grumble. The little asshat was avoiding you and you didn’t like it.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath and consider that he was probably just doing what you had oh so kindly “asked” him to do. If he needed to completely ignore you for a while to figure out his shit toward you, then he should ignore to his heart’s content.

“Y/N?” You heard Hobi call to you.

You brought your eyes back to your dinner group.

“Yeah?”  You purposefully didn’t comment on Tae and Jimin sending each other smirks and focused solely on the dimpled Saeni across from you.

“So, how was your first morning of training? You seemed a little, um, agitated when you came back this morning.” He sounded innocent enough, but you knew a nosy lad sniffing for some drama when you saw one.

Too bad you didn’t feel like providing him with any juicy tid-bits.

You huffed and explained that it had actually gone quite well for the most part. You told him that you had just gotten a wee bit frustrated at the end. Out of your peripherals you saw both the Saeni next to you roll their eyes. Of course they would. They both knew what had happened. Well, besides the whole getting turned on by their brother part. But, they did not need to know about that. Regardless, when you had finally stomped back into camp sans asshat, they had seen your fuming expression and had immediately pulled you aside to question you. Unfortunately for Hobi, you weren’t in the mood to relay it all again, so you decided to just leave it at that. You figured that if he really wanted to know, he could talk to Tae about it since that boy loved to gossip.

Eyeing the others’ reactions, Hobi took out a knife to toy with as he replied, “Something tells me that’s not the whole story… but you don’t have to explain it if you don’t want to, little scorja. Just know that I’m always willing to listen.”

You gave the Saeni a grateful smile and changed the topic to express how you were going to focus on learning archery and hand to hand combat. All three males perked up and started spouting out how they would love to help teach you and to seek them out if you ever needed assistance.

You couldn’t suppress your laughter at their eager reactions. “Okay, okay, okay. Jeesh. I’ll be sure to let you know. But I’m always going to go to Coco first since he is my official teacher and all.”

After your giggles died down you started to bring a big scoop of food to your mouth, but a sudden, stern cough from behind you made you jump in surprise. The action damn near made you spill your plate.

“Ah! I almost dropped my croissant, you heathen!”

You turned and saw a tiny looking Jungkook simultaneously seeming unsure and baffled.

“Um… hi.” He finally said, fingers tapping against his thigh restlessly.

Tae tapped you on the shoulder. “What’s a croissant?”

Just as you went to bestow your knowledge upon your friend, Jimin said, “Don’t worry about it, Tae.”

While you crossed your arms and pouted, Jungkook hesitantly asked, “Hobi hyung? Tae hyung? Can I… um… talk to you?” His eyes darted over to you and Jimin before quickly looking away. “Alone, please?”

Standing up, Hobi clapped the younger Saeni on the shoulder. “Of course, Kook.”

“Come on,” Tae added, setting his plate aside and rising to his feet as well.

Jungkook pointed to the trees, as if silently asking his brothers if they could converse further away. The other two nodded in agreement and they all began making their way into the darkness cast by the dying daylight.

“Wonder what that was about…” You thought out loud as the three walked away.

“I have a pretty good idea.”

You smacked Jimin lightly on the arm. “Well, of course you do, Mr. Half-Saeni with better hearing than a weaselly human! And let me guess, you’re not going to tell me.”

“Nope!” He popped the ‘p’ and raised an arm to rest on your shoulders.

You made a miffed, but understanding, noise in the back of your throat and leaned back against him, watching as the trio slowly disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

The next morning began the same way the previous had: Tae waking you up, the popping of petal pills, and a kiss to your alarm’s cheek as he sent you off to two hours of training. The only difference was Jungkook. You weren’t greeted by a glare, grumble, or condescending comment as you saddled up beside him to walk further into the trees. He only nodded in response to your “good morning.” Throughout stretching he didn’t utter a word, only hummed to notify you that it was time to move to the next position. He continued being quiet during the entire session, unless he was giving you instructions or correcting your form.

Well… at least he was looking at you today.

The two hours were filled primarily with physical training that focused on strengthening your core and arms. In addition to that, you once again went over how to correctly punch as well as the best way to draw and aim a bow. When time was up, you went to give Jungkook the bow and quiver, but he shook his head. Giving him a quizzical look and cocking your head to the right, you wondered why he didn’t take them back.

“They’re yours now, which means you’re in charge of taking care of them. Plus, it’ll be a good way to become more comfortable with them.”

You made a noise in agreement and slipped both items over your shoulder. You began to contemplate what would be the best way to carry them. It would need to be both comfortable, efficient, and easily accessible. You were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Jungkook clearing his throat.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked over your head. “Y-you, uh, did good today.”

You lightly laughed at his awkwardness, but still gave him a warm smile in appreciation of his words.

“Thanks Coco. I’ll… see you later, I guess.” You sent him a small salute and skipped away to find your friends.

The same morning routine, only today, you caught sight of Jungkook’s mouth twitching after you kissed Tae’s cheek.

You gave the male a sly grin as you sauntered up to him. “Aw, do you want a kissie too, Coco?”

He snorted, but not in a mean way. Instead, he seemed to be playing along with your teasing.

“I already told you that I don’t want your mouth anywhere near me, little human.” He had a smirk on his face and a playful look in his eyes.

“Your loss.” You shrugged. “I’ve been told my lips are quite pillowy, you know.”

Jungkook whistled. “I’ve never heard a gremlin’s lips be described as ‘pillowy’ before, but maybe you humans have different standards.”

You gasped and clutched at your heart in mock devastation. ”And here I thought we were starting to get along.”

“In your dreams,” he shot back but in a light tone.

After getting through your prep for the training session, you showed Jungkook your new and improved punching technique that you had practiced with Tae and Hobi. He closely inspected your form until he finally consented to allowing you to practice on him. The rest of the session consisted of basic fighting techniques and more physical training. Once the two hours were up, you grabbed your bow and quiver from where you had rested them against a tree and gave the burgundy-haired Saeni a salute goodbye.

“Hey, Y/N!” He spoke up before you left.

“Mhmm?”

“Um, make sure you eat something when you get back, okay?”

“You got it. See ya later!”

As you were roused from sleep and stood up with a yawn, you were surprised when you noticed that Yoongi was up too. You pursed your lips, curious why he was awake.

“You and your spastic alarm have woken me up every damn day, so I figured I might as well come help Kookie this morning.”

You winced knowing how much the magic user valued his rest. “Sorry… we’ll try not to be as loud from now on.”

He grumbled, pleased you had the decency to look guilty for disrupting his sleep.

While he was looking away, you rushed up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning Mr. Sparkle Hands!”

He hastily pushed at your body, but you knew his tsundere ass liked the affection. The tiny upturn of his mouth gave him away.

You giggled at the pink-eyed Saeni but was quick to turn to Tae to give him his good morning kiss and hug when his whining reached your ears. Chuckling, you pulled back and raised a brow at your teacher who was watching from the sidelines.

“Are you sure you don’t want one too?”

Jungkook just rolled his green eyes at you before walking into the trees and ordering you to follow him over his shoulder.

You complied, but not before messing with him a bit. “Of course, Coco. You know how I always do what you want because I’m such a good girl for you!”

He sucked in a breath and shakily released it. “Just hurry up and start stretching, sweetheart.”

“What in the fuck did I get myself into?” Yoongi mumbled to himself as he trailed after the two of you.

You felt your diaphragm spasm as the air in your lungs was forced out. Jungkook had sent his fist into your stomach, effectively making you gasp for oxygen. There hadn’t been much power behind the hit, and it also wasn’t an effective spot to incapacitate an opponent, but the male was being more cautious so there wasn’t another accident.

You internally groaned in frustration. Yet another round of Jungkook winning and you not landing a single hit on him. Placing your hands on your knees, you took several deep breaths to calm your body and regain your mental composure.

“What did you do wrong?”

You looked into Jungkook’s light green eyes and panted, “I… got… impatient. Left myself… open.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, then pointed to your feet. “You also got sloppy with your stance and didn’t stay light on your feet. You let yourself get unstable.” He considered his next sentence. “I expected more from a dancer.”

You shut your eyes and focused on your breathing, doing your best to not lose yourself in his words. You knew what he was doing. He was baiting you. Trying to make your emotions control your actions.

With one final, deep inhale, you gave him a determined look. “Then let’s go again, so I can get it right.”

His lips extended into a smile, and he didn’t bother to say “go” before immediately launching after you. Preoccupied with dodging his fist, you failed to see the approval shinning in his eyes.

You snickered as you listened to Tae ramble to Jungkook as you neared the end of your stretching. With Tae joining you today, you had a feeling Coco was going to be at his wits end. You wondered how long it would be before the male was grasping for his dagger as you shifted your feet together and folded your body to touch your toes.

You were in the process of mentally counting up to thirty when you heard Tae say something rather… interesting.

“Does Y/N have something on her pants that I can’t see or are you just staring at her ass?”

You straightened and looked behind you. Tae had a genuinely curious expression on his face as his eyes traveled over your pants while Jungkook cursed and looked down to intently investigate a plant by his feet.

Good lord, Tae truly has a habit of exposing people when they’re checking someone out. But why the HECK was Coco checking me out!? Unless…

“So…”

“Hm?” The male in question bent down to further “look” at the plant.

“You like gremlin booties don’t you, Coco?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

He jerked his face up to look at yours, abandoning his vegetal inspection.

You could see that he was flushed from embarrassment, but the bugger still managed to snort. “More like judging how flabby it is.”

“Mhmm. Sure.”

He huffed and looked to his brother, who was watching the two of you with fascination. “Whatever. Can you just start your archery lesson already, hyung?”

Tae beamed his big, boxy grin. “Sure thing. Come here, Y/N.”

You briefly paused your steps to listen to the forest. You would be arriving at the palace by the afternoon, and you weren’t sure what to expect. Would the forest be cleared for a massive castle? Would there be pathways and structures built up in the trees like the Lothlórien elves? You really had no idea what it was going to be like, but you refused to inquire the kiela about it. You wanted it to be a surprise. But still… in the slight chance that you would no longer be surrounded by the calming symphony of rustling leaves, singing birds, and the creaking of wood, you wanted to cherish the sounds as much as you could.

“Y/N, you coming?”

You snapped out of your daze to see Jimin calling back to you with an amused smile. His eyes were squished closed, which made your chest grow warm. You yelled back a “coming!” and returned his smile while jogging to catch up with him.

Another hour or so passed of hiking alongside your best friend, discussing random things and coming up with dumb games to pass the time. You giggled when Jimin failed to correctly execute a tongue twister. Laughing, you turned your head to the side to avoid his pleas and excuses. Now that you weren’t looking ahead or at your friend, you were able to check in with the other Saeni and you threw a hand over your mouth in disbelief at what you saw.

Tae was riding on Jungkook’s back and yelling at him to go faster. The latter was cracking up and indulging his brother’s wishes by running and weaving through the trees. Tae cried out in delight, making Jungkook laugh even harder. It was such a childish thing to do, but in all honesty… it looked like fucking fun! A stream of laughter escaped past your hand, which caused Jimin to look over at what new thing had caught your attention.

“Aish, there they go again.” He let out his own chuckle at his brothers’ antics.

You looked at him with a gleam in your eyes. “You know that you’re a dear friend to me, right? My best friend, in fact! So… would you-”

Catching on to what you were wanting, he was fast to interrupt. “Oh, no. Not a damn chance.” He shook his head at you, but his eyes slowly widened as you began to sulk and walk away like a wilted flower. “Wait! Y/N, wait! Please don’t be sad.”

You lowered your head and sniffled how he wasn’t a real friend.

“FINE! We can do it.”

You immediately brightened and squealed in excitement, rushing back to your friend who was cursing himself for being weak for you yet again. Internally, you were snickering at your clever manipulation.

A few minutes later, you watched Jungkook’s legs momentarily pause as he saw you and Jimin copying him and Tae. But instead of shooting a glare your way, he only smiled even wider and continued running about.

It was definitely a weird thing to get accustomed to. Not being a target of the male’s animosity, that is. You didn’t know if Jungkook was only disguising his dislike for you now, or if he had decided to alter his initial opinion of you. No matter the reason, you had a feeling that the change was influenced by whatever he had discussed with Namjoon, Tae, and Hobi several days prior. You had to admit, though. This version of Jungkook was one you hoped would stick around. It seemed like his genuine personality. He was playful, sarcastic, and teasing, but he knew when to be serious and mature. It actually reminded you of… yourself.

“You doing alright up there?” Jimin asked.

You tightened your arms around him and grinned to nobody in particular. “I’m alright. Great, actually.”

Hours later, Namjoon stopped the group and gathered everyone together. He explained that you would be at the palace within the next twenty minutes, so Yoongi needed to release their glamours. He looked directly at you for his next statement. He told you that it was very important that you stayed in the middle of the group. The guards knew the kiela, but you were a stranger, an unknown variable, and he didn’t want them attacking you by mistake. You nodded to the leader and Hobi and Tae moved to your side, saying that they would stick next to you just in case. You smiled at the duo gratefully.

Once Yoongi officially removed your glamours and Namjoon was satisfied with your position, he gave the order to start moving again. Unlike the past, however, the kiela was no longer spread out. Now, they were in a tight, organized formation as you advanced through the forest.

After approximately twelve minutes, a voice suddenly yelled out. “Stop! Don’t move or we will shoot!”

Immediately, you all did as you were told, but you could hear Yoongi grumbling ahead of you. “Why do they always do this? They know it’s just us.”

Geez, it’s like I can hear his eye roll.

“Be quiet, hyung.” Namjoon sternly told him. “You know they have to do this with everyone. Plus, it’s not ‘just us’ this time.”

A small group of Saeni materialized out of the trees, approaching your group with caution, weapons at the ready.

“Hands up!” A male with bleach-blonde hair called out.

You and the others did as he demanded. Your eyes were darting around, taking in these new Saeni. Trying to remain calm, you focused on your breathing and not doing anything to make yourself suspicious.

“Jackson.” Namjoon greeted the blonde male.

“Hey Namjoon… who you got there?” He tilted his chin toward you.

Subtly, both Tae and Hobi shifted closer to you when he did so.

“She’s a friend of Chim’s. She’ll be no trouble. I vouch for her.”

It was quite annoying that you couldn’t speak for yourself, but you knew you shouldn’t start yapping in this situation. It was in your best interest to keep your mouth shut.

Jackson took you in, narrowing his eyes at you and scanning your body in an assessing way. You met his gaze straight on but maintained a nice, trouble-free face. After a few moments, he finally relented, shrugging and saying that if anyone could be trusted in vouching for another it was Namjoon.

You sent Hobi a questioning glance. “It’s all good? Just like that?”

You received a dimpled grin in response. “Yup! Just like that. We know Jackson from our trainee days, so he knows we wouldn’t try to pull anything.” He tugged on your arm to get you moving as the group of guards waved you forward.

Not wanting to question it, you gave the guards a small smile as you moved past them.

As you continued past what must have been the palace perimeter, you noticed that the ground was becoming more worn. It was no longer wild and undisturbed. It was still the same, earthy ground, but it was beaten down and resembled a pathway. You could see that the path broke off into branches that went in various directions. Perplexed, you began to notice other differences in the scenery. The plants and flowers were now growing in a more uniformed, organized fashion. There were ornate lanterns hanging from the branches high above your heads. And the farther you progressed, the more you saw other Saeni, only many of them were not dressed in warrior garb. Instead, they wore a material that was light, flowy, and almost transparent. Majority of the clothes were in natural shades, but there was still a plethora in vibrant colors too. But the thing that took the cake, though, was the giant mass of trees that were woven together to form one big, beautiful sculpture. The thing was seriously so massive it could probably fit three damn Costco’s inside.

Your jaw dropped when you watched a trio of Saeni approach the structure, causing some of the smaller tree trunks to unravel and form an opening. Then, the Saeni proceeded to enter the thing.

Tae and Hobi, amused at your astounded wonder, informed you that you were looking at the palace. Hobi went on to explain that it had been constructed by magic users who weaved the forest together to create the massive structure.

“H-holy shit.” You stammered out in awe.

Minutes later, you were still stupefied by the sheer awesomeness of the palace as you passed through the doorway and entered its depths. A pair of guards greeted you inside and instructed you to follow them to the throne room. After making your way through the maze that was the palace, ogling at the architecture and art, you reached a large doorway with more guards posted outside of it. They opened the doors at your approach without a word. Crossing through the entryway, you saw that you had walked into a long, open room that was filled with gorgeous flower arrangements. The walls were a continuation of the trees that made up the entire structure, but these were more spaced out, allowing the outside world to flicker in and out as you stepped further in. Looking up, you saw that the roof was simply the plump, leafy tops of the trees that formed the space.

It’s so beautiful… but what do they do during the winter or when it rains?

“My King.” The guards that had escorted you bowed and left the room.

You glanced to the side and your eyes bugged out when you saw the kiela kneeling. You squeaked and hastily followed suit. You really did not need to be beheaded for “insulting” the king of Illain.

You heard an exasperated sigh come from the opposite end of the room. “Must you really do that? For Exia’s sake, you know how I feel about the whole bow down and praise me thing.”

You raised your head in confusion. There was no way that was the king. What you had just heard was so… not king like. When your eyes reached where the throne sat, you saw who must have been the king and his… queen? She had long, lilac-colored hair and pale blue eyes. She had a delicate, regal air to her and you blinked at how stunning she was. She appeared to be around your age, which seemed a little young to be married to the king, who looked like he was in his fifties or sixties. You didn’t want to judge, because you didn’t know their story, though, as you remembered that Jimin’s father had been in an arranged marriage. Plus, if they loved each other, then you definitely had no place to have your own opinions on the matter. Transferring your gaze to the king, you registered that he had dark hair and dark eyes. He also wore armor as he casually relaxed on his throne. His eyebrows were raised at the kiela as they rose to their feet while murmuring apologies. You scrambled up after them.

At your ascent, the king shifted his attention to send a warm smile in your direction. “Well, hello there, miss. You can probably tell that I am Illain’s ruler, but who might you be?”

“Y-Y/N.”

His dark eyes lit up in recognition. “So, you’re the Y/N I’ve heard so much about over the years!”

Before you could ask how he’s heard of you, he waved a hand dismissively. “I know all about Chim’s situation, dear. I’ve known him since before he was born, after all.”

At his words, you recalled how one of Jimin’s father’s friends had helped his mother escape and then brought Jimin to Illain when he was younger to train. You hadn’t realized that that friend was the one who had become the new king.

“It’s nice to finally have a face to your name, dear.” He then gestured to the girl standing next to him. “This is my daughter, Jiae.”

She smiled at you before daintily curtseying.

Oh gosh. Am… am I supposed to curtsey back? That’s not really my thing.

A couple of seconds of internal panic passed before you settled on just giving her a small wave back. Then what the king had said registered.

So, she’s a princess, NOT the queen. Duly noted.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Jiae then turned to the kiela. “And to see you all again.”

When she met Jimin’s gaze, she blushed and reached up to tuck some of her lilac hair behind an ear. “And it’s… really nice to see you again, Chim.”

Your best friend coughed and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to distract everyone from the heat creeping up his face, but he still smiled toward her. “It’s nice to see you too, Jiae. It’s been a while, huh?”

Your eyes widened as you watched their interaction. Did… did he like her?

You weren’t able to dwell on the disappointing thought long, though.

The king rubbed a hand down his face. “I know you’re all probably tired and want to rest, so I’ll try to keep this short.”

He went on to express that the reason he needed Jimin was because the threat of the draikensu was getting out of hand. Not only was it getting too dangerous for Jimin, but for all of Illain as well. As a result, the king needed Jimin to utilize the “key” within him. After years of researching what the draikensu meant by that, the king had figured out what this unknown key was. Essentially, Jimin’s family had been entrusted by Illai herself to safeguard a secret within their draeva for centuries. Only those in Jimin’s family had access to this secret and it was passed to every first-born of the next generation. However, it was never passed to Jimin since his father had died before the transfer was possible. Yet, being the blood of the previous holder, Jimin should be able to unlock the secret if he can find his father’s draeva. The only kicker was that nobody knew where it was.

Once the king was finished speaking, everyone in the room was silent. It was a lot of information to absorb, and no doubt it would be dangerous with the draikensu becoming more aggressive and larger in numbers.

Unable to take the agonizing quiet any longer, you raised your hand timidly as if you were in a classroom. “So, when do we leave?”

“Y/N.” Jimin’s voice was filled with warning and he shook his head at you.

“Oh, shit right. When do we leave… your majesty? Your highness? Mr. King Sir?” You gave the king an apologetic smile while he looked at you with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Sorry, I’m not sure what’s really appropriate.”

Someone in the room snorted at your fumbling as Jimin turned to you with an incredulous face. “No, Y/N. You’re not coming with us.”

Oh boy, this is just like the park all over again.

You raised a daring brow at Jimin. “You can’t be serious. What else am I gonna do? Just lounge around here?” You scoffed at the ridiculous thought and crossed your arms.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the king’s lips twerk upward and Jiae’s head tilt to the side in curiosity. On the other hand, the other members of the kiela looked uncertain as to which side they felt was right.

“Yes! That is exactly what you’re going to do!” Jimin ran a hand through his orange hair. “You’re going to stay right here where it’ll be safe.”

“Mmmmmm, no.”

“Y/N, please.” His brown eyes looked to Namjoon, thinking that his leader could back him up.

“Whoa, okay, hell no. Don’t look at Namjoon. He may be your leader, but he isn’t mine.” You softly smiled at the yellow-eyed male. “Sorry, Joonie.”

He only raised his hands and shrugged, not taking any offense since it was true.

At the same time, the king let out a loud ruckus of laughter.

Slapping his hand against the armrest of his throne, he addressed Jimin through his chortles. “You got quite the stubborn, but loyal, friend there. She’s the type you want to keep close.”

Jimin clenched his hands, but before he could respond Tae sauntered up next to you and threw an arm over your shoulders. “I’ve told you before, Chim. You’re not going to win an argument against a female like our little scorja.”

You looked at Jimin defiantly, feeling even more determined to come now that you had some people supporting you. You didn’t say anything else, though. Jimin knew where you stood on the matter.

You felt another member step up behind you. You expected it to be Hobi, so you were thoroughly shocked when the person spoke up.

“Hyung, if she wants to come, then she can. It’s her decision.”

Coco!?

You peeked over your shoulder to gape at the male, but he kept his eyes locked onto his apricot-haired brother, a serious expression on his face. As you stared at him in astonishment, the rest of the kiela voiced their agreement.

Realizing that he was the only one trying to dissuade you from coming, Jimin ran yet another hand through his locks and turned back to the king. He had a painful look on his face as he quickly excused himself and walked out of the room.

You couldn’t believe him. Yes, you understood his stance, but like Jungkook has said, it was your decision.

The princess’ eyes followed Jimin as he retreated and hesitantly spoke up. “I-I should probably make sure he’s okay. Ex-excuse me, father.”

Watching his daughter exit the room as well, the king sighed. “Well, to answer your question, Y/N, five days should be enough to prepare. And please, there’s no need for formalities with me. Just call me Bang.”

The courtyard was bustling with Saeni. Some were absentimindly walking while they admired the nice weather. Others were hastily making their way along one of the numerous paths, carrying a variety of objects as they ran their errands. You even saw one poor fellow truly embodying the phrase as he actually ran by with a scroll in hand and a sweaty, panicked look plastered to his face. You really hoped he wouldn’t trip and fall as he rushed past.  Beyond the male’s footsteps, you could also hear the dribble of water cascading down the natural waterfalls of the creeks and ponds as well as the murmuring of the many other conversations in your vicinity.

You and Tae were on your way back to the palace after your daily training session. Jungkook had needed to tend to another matter this morning, so he had Tae fill in for him. As the two of you trudged along the worn paths, you massaged your sore muscles and wiped your sweaty hair out of your eyes.

Currently, you were in the middle of one of your standard rants, this one was about why eating popcorn with chopsticks was the ultimate power move.

No buttery hands AND you don’t inhale half the bag within the first two minutes. It’s genius!

Boisterous laughter erupted from farther down the path, interrupting your description of the pros of your eating technique. At the sound, you felt Tae flinch, but you didn’t think much of it. The sudden sound might’ve just scared him a bit. But when Tae didn’t respond after a minute, you gave him a side glance. His eyes were trained ahead, and his face was clear of emotion.

Well, that’s weird…

A flash of movement brought your eyes downward to where his hands were toying with one of the buckles on his armor. Gently, you placed your hand over his fidgeting ones and slowed your pace until you were both standing still.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His face was still empty of emotion; however, when his blue eyes met yours, you were stunned to see that they were filled with anguish.

“What the fuck? Okay, you better tell me what’s going on with you. Right. Now.”

He attempted to avert his eyes, but you were having none of that. This handsome, adorable Saeni with grey hair and lack of respect for personal space had grown to be one of your most cherished friends and there was no way you were about to just let him stew in… whatever it was that he was stewing in! Before he could fully face away from you, your hand darted out to grab ahold of his chin and you forced him to look at you. His face and shoulders sagged in defeat.

“I…” His eyes became glassy. “Can we please leave befo-”

“Taehyung!”

Both your heads swiveled to the voice that yelled out his name. You squinted through the disorienting combination of morning light and lingering shadows, and you were able to make out a group of five Saeni walking toward you. As they drew closer, you dropped Tae’s chin from your grasp, but kept a firm grip on his hand.

You watched as one of the approaching group shoved another. “I told you it was him!”

Giving Tae’s hand a squeeze, you asked, “Do you know them?”

“Yes.” He spit the word out, his face once again devoid of emotion.

From the way he’d said it, it was apparent that they were not friends. You had never seen the Saeni act this way and it made your heart ache for him.

When the group finally reached you, you noted that there were two males and three females, all with the same camouflaged armor that the kiela wore. They also had various weapons strapped to their bodies, so it was fairly obvious as to what they were: warriors. But with Tae’s reaction to them, you decided not to greet them with a smile and instead only regarded them with a raised eyebrow.

Petty? Yes.

Did you care? No.

Not that it really mattered because they flat out ignored your presence.

One of the males with light red hair threw an arm around a green-haired female, who snuggled into him. “So, tell me Taehyung, what’s it like to be rootless?”

Uh. What?

Tae squeezed your hand tighter and he sharply inhaled but didn’t respond.

The second female, who had on bright pink lipstick that seriously clashed with her yellow hair, laughed.

But honestly, who the fuck bothers to put on lipstick this early!?

“Aw, look. I think you upset him, Roric.” She fake-pouted and flipped her long hair over her shoulder.

You could feel Tae start to shake. Whether it was from being angry or upset, you had no idea. You didn’t know exactly why he would be upset, apart from these people being dicks. But whatever they were talking about must have been a sensitive topic for him. All you knew was that you were picking up on some major bitchy vibes from the group across from you as you began to alternate between looking at Tae and the five strangers. You whipped your head back and forth to try to understand what in the heck was going on.

It was a situation you increasingly found yourself in ever since learning Jimin’s secret and coming to Illain.

“Oh, he’s fine.” The second male with a close buzz-cut rolled his beady eyes. “He’s probably just lost a few brain cells since he’s a stump now.”

The third and final female, who had a large axe strapped to her back, snickered at her buddy’s comment.

Looking back to Tae, you saw that his head was down, and he was biting his lip. He looked ashamed. It was an emotion you never would have imagined seeing on the care-free and aloof Saeni. As you took in your friend’s meek posture, you felt a wave of unprocessed, grade-A fury rush through you. Narrowing your eyes, you glared at those responsible for his disposition.

Bitchy vibes: confirmed. Targets: acquired.

“Excuse me!” You piped up in an innocent voice and widened your eyes to match your tone. “Hi there. I’m new and was wondering what your names were?”

Six pairs of eyes were suddenly on you. One pair was silently pleading with you to leave it be while the others eyed you with distate.

“Ugh. Who are you?” Pink Lipstick crinkled her upturned nose.

You waved your hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m Y/N, I’m not… from around here, but don’t worry about that! I’m more interested in who you are.”

Before even one of them could open their mouths to reply, you snapped your fingers and spoke up again, still in a sickly-sweet voice.

“That’s right, I’ve heard of you… Let’s see, you must be Mike and Ike.” You pointedly looked at both males.

“What in Exia’s name is she talking about?”

Ignoring the comment, you turned to the females. “And you three! Obviously, you must be Kourtney, Khloe, and Kim!” You sighed as you took in the group, placing your free hand under your chin to gaze at them with false amazement. “What fitting names for two assholes with miniscule dicks and three bitches for penchants for unnecessary drama.”

You smiled in satisfaction as you watched their faces transform from bored confusion to angered confusion. They might not have understood where the names came from, but they definitely understood your ending remark.

“What the fuck did you just say!?” The green-haired female you had ordained “Khloe” screeched.

You chuckled bitterly, releasing Tae’s hand and stepping forward while crossing your arms. “Do you really need me to repeat myself? Or did you just lose a few brain cells?”

The male, who you had deemed “Ike,” threatened, “I would watch your tone, bitch.”

“And I would watch what you say to her, Beomwoo.” You felt Tae step up beside you, his voice slightly shaky, but serious. “Or, should I say… Ike?”

You smirked at the group before turning to check in on Tae. He looked angry as hell and his blue eyes were focused menacingly on the other Saeni.

All three males were puffed up, ready for if, or more likely when, with how the situation was progressing, there was a physical altercation. Though, honestly, you and other females were doing no better with your postures.

Cocking your head to the side, you pursed your lips. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you can only dish it out but not take it yourself? Because, if so, the Weenie Hut Juniors will be down the path and to the left.” You gestured behind you with your thumb.

Miss. Axe, aka Kourtney, hissed. “You better control your bitch, stump.”

Tae growled while you barked out a laugh, eyes darkening with wild adrenaline. You were too caught up in the moment to even register that this was the first time you were seeing, or hearing, your friend be super aggressive like this.

Mike made a low noise and went to grab your wrist, but you easily stepped aside and raised your fists to guard your face.

The male scoffed. “Like you could take me, girl.”

He obviously underestimated you because he left himself wide open as he raised his own arms. You doubt you would have been able to touch him with your meager training if not for his incredibly too-high opinion of himself. But, after ducking below his right hook that was all power and no finesse, you quickly threw two jabs into his side. You made sure to make contact with your first two knuckles, to keep your wrist straight, and properly throw your weight behind the attack. You felt a surge of joy when he keeled over, but the whole shebang wasn’t over yet. You shoved him back with your foot, causing him to stumble onto his ass. Then, you straightened and raised a brow at the other Saeni, who stared at you with barely-controlled anger.

“It’s not polite to touch things without consent, isn’t that right, little scorja?” Tae addressed you but maintained his gaze on the Saeni in front of him.

You couldn’t see it, but his blue eyes were flickering with pride at your actions.

“You… you bitch!” Mike gasped out while the others shrieked other non-creative insults.

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking hell, you guys really need a thesaurus.”

Kim pulled Mike back up and all five of them lined up and looked like they were going to throw the biggest temper tantrum of 2019. You fell back into a defensive stance and felt Tae do the same beside you. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for the first strike when you heard a familiar voice calling out.

“Hyung? Y/N?”

You furrowed your brows but didn’t relax as you whispered, “Coco?”

Tae copied you, not taking his eyes off the other Saeni. “Jungkook?”

At the sound of his name, the others’ eyes widened in disbelief and their stances faltered.

“Ju-Jungkook? Like Jeon Jungkook?”

“N-no way… It can’t be him!”

As if on cue, a “what the fuck” echoed off the trees. You craned your neck to see over your “targets’” shoulders and saw a very pissed off looking Jungkook. His hand was griping the handle of his dagger, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw was clenched tightly. He expelled an energy that was so intimidating, it reminded you of the day he had yelled at you right before Jimin got kidnapped. You momentarily flinched at the memory.

As Jungkook stalked over, the five Saeni fell out of their aggressive postures and began blubbering about how much they looked up to him, how in awe they were of his skills, and how nobody has yet to come close to matching his abilities.

He has a fucking fanclub? Seriously?

The burgundy-haired male didn’t even bat an eyelash at them as he made his way over to you and Tae. He still looked like an angry wasp, but his expression lightened a bit when he reached the two of you. He asked if you were okay, to which you nodded. He placed a fingertip gently on your forearm and asked again, his concerned green eyes searching you for any falter. You gave him a soft nudge with your own finger and reassured him that you were good, but before he could turn away, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

His eyes widened while you whispered into his ear. “They were calling Tae something like ‘rootless’ and ‘stump?’ I don’t know what that means, but it made him really upset.”

As you leaned back, you saw Jungkook’s face darken. The boy looked super pissed off now. His eyes darted over to his brother and demanded to know if what you said was true.

“Kookie, just-”

“Hyung! Is. It. True?” Jungkook spoke through his teeth as his chest heaved up and down.

Tae looked down and started fidgeting with his hands again. “Y-yeah…”

You quickly walked around the seething Saeni and grabbed Tae’s hand again, trying to offer him as much comfort as you could in the moment.

You had almost forgotten about the Saeni responsible for this shit show. Almost. One of them must have either been blind to The Jeon Jungkook’s obvious rage or he was a fucking idiot because he decided to snicker at Tae’s submissive demeanor.

The raging burgundy head ever so slowly pivoted on his heel until he faced the group of offenders. They shuddered when they saw the borderline murderous expression on his face.

“You say you look up to me… but you fucking dare to insult a member of my kiela?” His incredulous chuckle was almost sinister, and you felt a shiver run up your spine.

You knew first hand what it was like to be on the receiving end of those sounds. Knew how they made you feel utterly helpless and tiny and stole your breath away. This time, it still managed to take you breath away, but it was not in fear. This one made heat rush up to your cheeks and another feeling (that you tried to blatantly ignore) spread throughout your body.

The group blubbered even worse than they had at Jungkook’s arrival, their eyes now containing panic. It was a far cry from the admiration they had held before. They tripped over their words and each other as they tried to politely, but quickly, get away.

“Yeah, whatever.” Jungkook snarled and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Just get the fuck out of here and I swear to Exia if I ever hear you doing this again…

“You’ll answer to me.”

The five Saeni yelped and scrambled away, spouting off “yes sirs” and similar respectful answers. You scoffed at their retreat and squeezed Tae’s hand.

“What a lovely bunch of fake assholes,” you said loudly, knowing that their better senses would ensure that they heard you.

You snickered and sent a little teasing wave to Mike as he glared at you until he disappeared behind a tree. Suddenly, and much to your confusion, the two next to you stiffened before whipping their heads to look in the direction the Saeni had gone. Jungkook even let out hostile noise that made your cheeks heat up once again. He briefly glanced at his brother, who gave him a subtle nod, then returned his gaze ahead.

Good lord, what’s happening now?

Without looking back at you, Jungkook said in a restrained voice, “The reason I came to find you is because you’ll be attending the trainees’ fighting seminar in one hour, Y/N.”

“Wait, what!? But, I don’t-I can’t-where even-”

“You’ll be fine, and hyung can show you where you need to be.” He still didn’t look away from those trees ahead and his voice and body were stiff.

You hesitantly agreed and grunted as Tae grabbed your hand and started pulling you away, muttering about how you needed to eat something beforehand. As you let yourself be dragged to the kitchens, you glanced behind you and saw that Jungkook was now jogging down the same path the bitchass Saeni had left on.

Maybe he’s going to give them his autograph or something?

You made a judgmental face. He wasn’t a celeb for Exia’s sake! So what if he had a small fanclub? He was still an asshat. Sometimes.

Your judgmental expression shifted to shocked as you realized that you had used the Saeni phrase “for Exia’s sake.” The boys were really starting to rub off on you. It was definitely a surprise, but it had you smiling.

Tae gave your hand a squeeze and asked what you were grinning at.

You just shifted your toothy smile to him and shook your head. “It’s nothing, Tae Tae. Come on, let’s go get some foods!”

previous [6] — next [8.1]

[lovecrazyjennybear]

Doubt Comes In

Summary: Roman has some intrusive thoughts. 

Warnings: Deceit. Remus. Slightly gross/dark mental images. Intrusive thoughts. Anxiety. Mention of killing. Angst. Yelling

Word Count: 1131

Pairing: Platonic Prinxiety. 

A/N: This takes place after Dealing With INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS. If anything else needs to be put as a warning or a tag please let me know. All mistakes are mine and any constructive feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy. 

Roman was sitting in his room, lost in thought. Logan had filled him in on a lot of what he missed while he was knocked out, which left him with a lot of emotions to work through. He hated his brother with the intensity of a thousand suns. He hated how Remus was no longer just messing with his thoughts but Thomas's. Despite his best efforts, Roman couldn't help keep his twin at bay. 

There was something else nagging at him though. Something he heard Remus say to Virgil just before he left. ‘Good seeing you again Virgil, it was just like old times.’ kept streaming though his mind. What was meant by that? Did Remus visit Virgil and give him intrusive thoughts? Did Virgil try and fight him off to keep him from Thomas? 

Maybe they were friends.

“Stop it.” Roman said out loud.

“Stop what?” The Duke answered from where he appeared, draped across Roman's bed. 

“You know very well what.”

“Do I?” He pulled out his deodorant and took a bite. “I'm afraid I don't. I haven't been giving you any fun mental images or thoughts Roman.” 

As if to prove a point, Roman was suddenly hit with a mental image of him sniffing a dog's butt hole. “Gaah that is vile!”

Remus just laughed until he rolled off the bed. “That is quite calm compared to what I could give you dearest brother, especially knowing what your room can do. In fact I think that would actually be quite fun!”

With a snap of the Duke’s fingers the room was thrown into darkness. Roman had no idea what the space would look like once some form of light would appear. Despite trying to get his room to obey his will, he knew his brother was stronger right now. Being knocked out takes a toll on one's mind and Roman was no exception.

There was a laugh that was unmistakably Remus's. It seemed to come from all around Roman. As he spun around in the darkness, the light came back brightly before dimming. Once he blinked the stars from his eyes, he noticed was in Virgil's room. 

What didn't make sense was who else was in the room. Deceit and Remus were sitting on the floor with Virgil. Virgil even seemed to be at ease.

That's because they belong together. All the Dark Sides together. Of course Virgil would be calm.

No. That wasn't the truth. Virgil hated Deceit. It rivaled Roman's own hate for Remus. There is no way that he'd be calm.

Sure he acts like he hates them. He has to fit his role as a ‘good guy’ now. But he's plotting with them. That's why he didn't warn you when Remus was about to knock you out. 

No. That wasn't the truth. There was Virgil's anxious voice at the end of his sentence. He didn't have the chance.

“Can you believe how easy that was?” Remus asked the other sides. “A+ on your acting Virgil. I must say.”

“I told you he'd be the worst mole Duke.” Deceit said. “He'd never be believable.” Something akin to pride flashed on his face.

“It took some time. Thank you for the ducking out idea. That definitely was a strong push for them to trust me.” Virgil told them. “Especially Roman.”

“You're not welcome.”

Virgil laughed. “The way Roman threw a fit about not knowing you helped keep Thomas up last night was amazing Remus.”

Remus giggled. “It was.”

“Horribly done by not giving Thomas the thought of killing his brother by the way.”

“Thank you” Remus stretched out the least last syllable as he bowed from the waist up. 

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Also Deceit good idea in silencing Patton. And you have the subtlety down so the others don't know it's you.”

“You're not welcome. It was just the easiest thing to-”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

The scene in front of him snapped from existence. That loud voice definitely was not a part of the dark thoughts. Roman blinked a few times before realizing he was back in his room. Remus was still there but so was someone else.

Virgil was standing protectively in front of him.

“Why we were just talking Virgil.” Remus said. “The worst he got from me was him smelling a dog's butt hole.”

“I don't believe you.” The anxious voice was definitely there. “I know how you work. You lost hold over Thomas so you've gone to one of us.”

“Now why would I go after my own brother?”

“You tell me. You brought up Cain and Abel.”

“Touche. It's just so much fun!” The Duke giggled.

“Leave.”

“Oh poo Virgil, you used to be so much more fun.” He did decide to sink out at that point.

“V-Virgil?”

The emo side slowly turned to face Roman. “Hey. Are you ok?”

“I think so.”

“Good. That's good.” The darker tone left his voice. “Why don't we go get some tea?”

Roman nodded and stood up. “Thank you for rescuing me from him.”

“You're welcome.” Virgil led the way to the kitchen.

“Can I ask you something?” Roman asked after a few moments of silence.

“You just did.”

“Ha. Ha.” He looked at the other for a moment. “But seriously here Virgil, there's something I want to know.”

“What is it?”

Roman didn't miss the slight widening of the other side’s eyes. He decided now was not the time to ask if he used to be friends with Deceit and the Duke. So he decided to ask a slightly different question. “What did he mean when he said you used to be more fun?”

Just before Virgil could answer, the kettle started screaming. He turned to face it and make the tea. “He would visit me when he lost control over Thomas's mind. I didn't used to have the will to fight against him. I do now.” Virgil turned back around and handed Roman his tea.

“Well I'm glad you did.” Roman took his cup. “And I'd like to propose something.”

“What is it?”

“If he comes to you again, you can come talk to me about it. I'll even conjure up a couch for you to lay on if you want.”

Virgil playfully rolled his eyes. “Only if you do the same when he visits you.”

“Deal.” Roman took a sip of his tea. “Do you want to watch a Disney movie with me?”

Virgil smiled sightly. “Sure.”

The two went and sat on the couch. Roman set up Dumbo before taking a long sip of his tea. There were still many questions he had about his brother and Virgil's past, but for now he just wanted to enjoy himself. He believed Virgil would tell him in his own time.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Tommy

Ali: [Let us assume he has gone back to school now and this was a weekend affair] Ali: You forgot your 🕯 Ali: expect it in the post, minus the disappointed note from Ro I've taken out Ali: ✈️ trips not guilt trips, welcome Tommy: leave it in, LOVE to hear what she's gotta say about why I'M the one being a holy show Ali: You aren't respecting the sanctity of her offering, is very much the point and gist Ali: she put more letters to it, as standard Tommy: 'course she did Ali: It does mean a lot to her Ali: but yeah, nice to have my 📅 to myself again, can't lie Tommy: meant so much she fucked off soon as the 🎂 candles were out Ali: You know she isn't the party 'til dawn sort Ali: anyway, they'd be coming in for morning service 😅 Tommy: I know it's her party & she can 😭 if she wants to Ali: If I'd known that was the theme, could've made party bags with 🧅 & 🧻 Ali: well, at least you were in your element 🕺 and you kept Meena and Carly entertained Ali: the hostess not being overly concerned herself, like Tommy: this family's hostess with the mostest has & always will be me, honey Tommy: what else do they teach me at this school, like? Ali: I had no idea you were at finishing school, my apologies Ali: how's things with keeping a man then, Holly Housewife? Tommy: Why stop at strutting with 📚 on our heads when we could do it in 🩰 perfectly en pointe, carrying a sulky ballerina all the while? Basically a Latin motto Tommy: & yet I still can't keep a man, cheers for the reminder Ali: Maybe now you're of age they introduce the final string to your bow Ali: quadruple threat = 🎤🕺🎭🍆 Tommy: 😂🤞🙏 Tommy: stole your girl regardless, tell her to call me when she's slept off the festivities Ali: No doubt she will when she's between the next couple of parties 😜 Ali: your girl is here actually, helping Ro 'organise' her presents Ali: dunno where she parked her 🎃 Tommy: I'll join Fraze in the red corner 😍💋💔🤬🎯👿🥤🤡🥵🛑💘 Tommy: those dolls do go walk abouts if you don't keep a 👀 but obviously she was 🤞🙏 I was still there Ali: He might misconstrue that and come to fight for her honour Ali: 🤞🙏 she's in LDN too, naturally Ali: lots of them are haunted, but that last part of your sentence there is the MOST 😱 ever Ali: it's weird when you approach anything fuck boy like Tommy: miscommunication is his thing™ no hard feels or feelings full stop, 'course 💪🚫😭🚫😍 Tommy: what can I say? being back DOES things to me Tommy: it's all the positive masculine role models this family has Ali: Guess it beats a total lack of @Joseph Ali: though he sent her some book about musical theory so he still manages to be the favourite somehow 🤷 Ali: and hey, dad is the best Tommy: v catty & then cuddly of you, Kit Tommy: he doesn't respond to MY efforts at being a daddy's girl exactly the same way somehow 🤷 Ali: we're both living up to what's expected then 😼 Ali: could just be I'm better at it than you though Ali: if your ego will allow it Tommy: can't let our sister fly that flag alone, like Tommy: as for who's better at kissing the arse of authority figures, don't need to dignify that with an answer 'cause my school report will Tommy: you ain't never been a pleasure to have in class Ali: I might genuinely have to shoot myself if anyone ever said anything so asinine about me so you're right Ali: that would be such a waste of potential, not until I've lead a more scandal-filled existence Tommy: you could respect the hustle Tommy: it's getting me 🩰 perks Tommy: disciplined is the head that wears the 👑 hoe Ali: I know all about discipline, trust me Tommy: we've all read 50 shades, you can't take it as gospel Tommy: Ro could write a better bdsm bibe when she's done at church Tommy: bible* Ali: It's all fun and games 'til I walk in on her flagellating herself Ali: how are we explaining that to the shrinks Tommy: that she misunderstood a more sexy f word? Ali: we don't want to look like we're trying to lock her up for that Ali: way too retro, bro Tommy: She wants to be catholic Tommy: I didn't make the rules Ali: No, then da really would hate you Ali: she's got worse Tommy: Yeah Tommy: I know, no amount of drama from the golden couple could detract Ali: not that I haven't heard enough about that though Ali: guess there's too much to put in a passive-aggressive note Tommy: 🙄🥱😴 Tommy: She wasn't even THAT late & tbh I wouldn't have blamed her for doing a Joe no show Ali: I would've understood if she was upset when she wasn't coming Ali: I am when Joe doesn't, whatever Ali: but I think she was actually MORE upset that she did come in the end, and not just because she was messy, but because Ro thought she wouldn't Ali: I don't get it, they're complicated, always have been but ??? Tommy: she can't hold being a good sister over her, like you can't me being the most fabulous brother in existence 🏆 Tommy: the fuck ups are more fun to bring to a 🥊 Ali: I guess that's more likely than them being all 💕💞 Ali: but fucking hell, does it hurt to hope Tommy: it's hurting you 😿 Tommy: she'll be too hangry to hope Ali: I have no hope or agenda for your 🏆 or 👑 dear brother Ali: but seriously Ali: what does she want Tommy: like you said ???? Tommy: there's every chance I'm bringing too much McKenna magic to the motives & she don't wanna bear a grudge til the end of her days Ali: because it doesn't sound like her at all Ali: if you can't be honest in the DMs where can you, eh, to quote that romcom Ali: fucked if I know what to do about it right now though Ali: maybe I need to sleep off the festivities, or get something to eat Tommy: long as you're not so hysterical you run into the path of an oncoming car, to recall another faithful role of hers Ali: have you adapted that for the stage? Ali: get 5 of you to be the 🚗 Tommy: dibs 'cause I can't do the accent Tommy: not that loads of 'em posh kids can either Ali: they'll have spent enough time gentrifying the east end to have it down, offensively so but all adds to the hysterics Tommy: I'll pitch it then 💡 Tommy: go down better than her 🎤🎵 Ali: better than her when she got hit by the car, like Ali: give me credit or I'll turn up and make a SCENE Tommy: like I wouldn't be LIVING for that Tommy: if we are being honest in the DMS Ali: I'll work on my RICKKAAAAAAAAAAAY Ali: maybe can convince Ro to be Sharon Tommy: hang around your ma in law & you'll ace it in no time Ali: Ha Ali: she'd accept Peggy, not Pat Tommy: fair, Laoise's ma's the one more likely to express herself with big earrings & animal prints Tommy: but I don't know if Sam Mitchell is a favourable role for Carls, what did she ever even do? Ali: Are you trying to tell me it's NOT a look? 🤔 Ali: or that you rate Laoise's mum? Ali: The character, nothing, the OG actress lost her nose so we're all agreed that's a no Tommy: I'd rate seeing her da on the doorstep in nothing but a bow tie for how mortified she'd be when I uploaded it Tommy: Grant's also no, he knocked Martine on her arse way before that car Tommy: but if she's Phil, you're Sharon so that's a yeah from me, like Ali: Don't, her dad always gave me those vibes Ali: and you ain't actually on the street still to have to witness that 🤮 Ali: I don't know how she'll feel about going bald, I'll float it gently before getting out the clippers Tommy: Do Rock's while you're there, he looks feral Tommy: even that nonce wouldn't have him Ali: You know his ears would get chapped Ali: hair is essential or he'll fly away on the breeze Ali: and we'd all be devastated, obvs Tommy: don't start me thinking about that scene in Dumbo, cheers very much Tommy: 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Ali: Such a depressing film Ali: disney gives me bad vibes Tommy: the park is creepy & you won't catch me there Tommy: whether or not Walt was a Nazi it's still a nah from me Ali: Wee bit concerning that emotional manipulation and forced fun trumps facism/literal Nazis for you but we'll 🤐 Ali: ma is in enough of a mood and she'll only direct it at me so nah Tommy: well his racism is disputed depending whether you're in camp 😇 saint him 🙏 or camp cast him into the hellfire 👿 Tommy: the forced fun & emotional manipulation is just facts Ali: 👿 advocate Tommy: I'm gonna go to hell 🤞 he's an ally Ali: 😬 Ali: it's a punishment, not a holiday Tommy: it'll be a grand hol for my pores Tommy: love a sauna sesh Ali: that London smog is not it Ali: how black is your snot? Tommy: as Ro's soul 💀 Ali: Thomas Tommy: Alison Ali: 🛑 it Tommy: she'd 🖤 to hear it but FINE Ali: you're an enabler, it is known Ali: not the kind of encouragement I'm after tah Tommy: enabling you & your lady love to have a good time, yeah 🕺💃 Tommy: & I fully expected her to turn up with a pet raven is all I'm saying Ali: the best was made of it by all, despite it all Ali: even her, in her way Tommy: despite Kayne appearing 🤵🥀 & all in her case Ali: yeah Ali: ugh Ali: he's harmless enough, bless him Tommy: she'd beg to differ right now Tommy: you're gonna wanna hide the 🍄🍄💀 til she calms down Ali: You don't need to tell me Ali: I think he's just really oblivious Ali: like all lads Ali: it wasn't you know...assaulty Tommy: It's not his fault she's team true love's kiss & he AIN'T it Tommy: who could EVER measure up to the 💭💞 Ali: standards, cool Ali: unrealistic expectations, less so Ali: but I can't really advocate for reality at this point in the game Tommy: You don't need to tell me, sis Ali: you're team turn-a-stage-kiss-real, yeah Ali: it's more realistic than fairytales, anyway, look at strictly Tommy: I'm team when's my life been a shitty made for netflix flick never mind a 🐸🤴📖 Tommy: crushing realism ftw Ali: 💔 Ali: If you didn't have a tragic love-life to complain about, you'd be too insufferable 🤴💩 Tommy: comforting Tommy: I'd HATE to morph into Fraze of a few years back Ali: I'll let you know if you start getting freckles Tommy: I'd know if I woke up with those brows Tommy: nowhere to hide, like Ali: 👺 Tommy: 😂 Ali: What are you getting ma for her bday/have you got already (suckup) Tommy: I left it there if you wanna find & shake the 🎁 Ali: Wow, you really didn't wanna pay postage that bad huh Ali: I'll see if I can 🔮 Tommy: with what? I'm skint after buying hers & Ro's Tommy: & it'll be 🎅🎄🎁 before too long Ali: that's what people really mean when they say dance don't pay Ali: gifting an interpretive dance is nothing but pretentious and unwelcome Ali: I can bodge together however many crafts I need and save my dolla Tommy: been there, tried that one Tommy: so much for your so called genius Tommy: ain't even thought of earning any by busting out the 🎅🎄🎵 classics for a busking sesh, works with 🩰 too I'll have you know Ali: 'til you knock over an old lady and have to leg it, like Ali: and if you hadn't noticed, I've been a little busy making a replica Ro, tah Ali: my creative juices are juiced right now Tommy: I'll make it look like part of the show & have the punters eating out of my palm when I catch & twirl any 👵 before they touch ground Tommy: yeah well you've got time from now, fair game on all things yule from Nov 1st Ali: 👌👌 clearly the LDN ones are more receptive because they're vicious 'round here with their 👜s and I'm only trying to give them the tea they ordered Ali: if ANYONE should advocate for Christmas not dragging, like Tommy: it's Irish dancing or fuck all back there, 365 🌧 or ⛅ Tommy: little girls scam every bit of that trade Ali: ironic when it's catch these hands in every other aspect Ali: so you'll fit right in, eh Ali: feel traumatised yet? Tommy: I'll do my best, as ever Ali: 🤴 Ali: meanwhile ma will have to make do with whatever IOU present I can knock up Ali: maybe I'll babysit, that's never not gonna work Tommy: she was on about going out 🍽 wasn't she? Tommy: Carls will never not be down either Ali: get him to make her a cake Ali: sorted Ali: providing he washes his hands...a full hose down may be necessary actually Tommy: she's survived the 🧁 he brings back from school & we've all seen the state of him at day's end Ali: yeah, cheers for the immunity boost little 🦠 Ali: fair, I'm pretty sure we put some weird and wonderful things into our bakes at his age and no one died Ali: Laoise nearly but you know Tommy: close but no 🚬 Tommy: typical of that bitch Ali: sure a 🙏 was said to finish the job at mass Tommy: if you see her ma mascara running in an lbd, I demand to be the first to know Ali: I'll pap her in her time of distress, it's fine Ali: I can hide up trees for HOURS if needs must Tommy: I'm not above piggybacking on the 'tragedy' to get better grades or a hol Tommy: do your part, like Ali: she won't fall for 🍄 again Ali: her brother might if Ro puts 'em in her gob Tommy: 💞 Ali: more of a mood than without Ali: add a little danger Tommy: she'd appreciate the drama more than anything he could ever do Ali: 💔 Tommy: nah, we're not shipping that Tommy: not today Ali: You gotta make some bad decisions before you make the right ones Tommy: a bad decision was the colour of her 👗 Tommy: the last thing that girl needs is a boy right now Ali: Okay you can't come for anyone vis a vis colour, boy Ali: even if I still see it when I close my eyes after however many weeks sewing Ali: but you may have a point re. a boy Ali: just, some socialisation wouldn't hurt Ali: and as far as they go, he's harmless Tommy: 'Course I do, she can barely exist in front of us Tommy: if they went on a date, what's she gonna do, order a glass of water? Ali: like you haven't seen her fake eat a plate of food Ali: it's only noticeable to all us that she's not actually putting any in her mouth Tommy: 🔮✨ Tommy: if he's TRULY harmless he don't deserve to be harmed by her attitude Tommy: which anyone else not bound by family love & loyalty would call something loads harsher Ali: Don't Ali: I feel bad enough for Meena sometimes Tommy: @ Carly too & we all know it Ali: Yeah, Carly can handle it though, she's mostly unphased even if it is a total thing 🙄 Tommy: She's a 👸😇 I doubt Kayne is that pure of ❤️ or intentions tbh Tommy: & Meena can handle anything so Ali: he's deffo a virgin though Ali: which yes, makes for more desperation, but he can't be that forceful if he dunno what he wants, you know Ali: yeah but God knows why she wants to come 'round here and get more of it at times Tommy: No shit, Kit but everyone's seen a porno, it's not the 70s Tommy: dress for it all you like Tommy: maybe she wants to get out of her own 🏡 Ali: everyone also knows it's bullshit Ali: whatever else she's got that much about her Tommy: does he though? Tommy: all I'm saying Ali: either way, it isn't like she's going to have a miraculous change of heart Ali: we all saw how well it went Tommy: Yeah but what if it makes her heart set on finding someone else to play 🤴 Tommy: you'd know better than me what goes on in her head Ali: She's 15, I don't see how any of us can say or do anything to stop her if that's what she does want Tommy: 15 technically Tommy: 🤷 Ali: If we can't make her eat, you know Ali: what hope do we have for anything beyond that Tommy: 0 Tommy: & it's fucked Ali: Yep Ali: but it's not as if that bombshell has only just been dropped, I guess Ali: we'll carry on doing what we can Tommy: 🔮✨ Ali: ✌💚

[nat-20s]

ten donna prompt where theyve just got back from the tardis after seeing Some Shit. donna is a little shaken, and the doctor is trying to help as best he can.

sorry thi took so long lmao also i didn’t edit because this is full of FEELINGS and editing it would be Too Much anyway have fun

Donna was quiet.Donna had been quiet since she’s gotten back to the Tardis, maybeeven before then, though things had been a bit too chaotic for theDoctor to be able to accurately tell. A deep sense of wrongnesspervaded every cell of his beingas long as the air remained empty, so he tried to fill up the spacewith his own chatter. Pulling at various levers and knobs mostly todo something with the itchy sensation under his skin, he asked, “So,Donna! Where to next? Alien planet? Something historical? A nicecoffee shop? Maybe one of the ones with cats OH I love a good catcafe don’t you? Or are yu not much of a cat person? Well obviouslyyou’re not a cat person,not like those nuns, have I ever told you about those nuns, unlessyou are a cat person,just very well disguised. Donna, you’re not a secret cat person,right?”

Whenthat didn’t illicit even a “No, dumbo”but instead resulted in Donna continuing her dead-eyed stare at theconsole, The Doctor’s twohearts started to pound. Injecting a bit more false pep into hisvoice, he continued on, “ ‘Course, we don’t have topick a destination. I always like a good surprise, let the Tardis goon according to her whims. We’re sure to go somewhere excitingthen, the ol’ girl refuses to let us get bored.”

Donnasucked in a breath through her noise, turned glassy eyes towardshis, and said in a small voice,“I think I should go home.”

Small. Hervoice is small. Nopart of her should be small. Donna Noble is meant to take up space.Donna is meant to be loud and large and present andunapologetic about all of that. But her voice is small, her postureis hunched inwards, and she doesn’t exist enough in the room. TheDoctor knew what exactlyshe meant, but he had also foundthat on occasion, if he simply acted like something wasn’thappening, then it wouldn’t. It was rare, but it was worth a shot.“Right! Always good to have a break. Catch up with Wilf, hear somestories, love hisstories, maybe avoid a whole world ending disaster this time, allthat jazz! Sounds great! Molto bene!”

Donna’sbreath stuttered and a few tears spilled unbidden. She hadn’t meantto cry, she was trying really really hardnot to cry, but she supposed she couldn’t put it off forever. Voicea bit stronger but still small, too small, she replied, “ No,I mean, drop me off. Permanently. I think..I think you should findsomeone else. You’re stillgonna need someone but I don’t think that someone is me.”

“What?Why? No, wait, what? Donna,I, I suppose, I..no. Ifyou want to leave, I’ll understand, obviously, I’m not going toforce you to-”

“-Ofcourse I don’t want to.”

“Then..,”The Doctor stammered for about 30 seconds before he came up with theresponse, “what? Whywould you leave?”

Donna’svoice finally came back strong. It’s somehow worse. “Because! I’mnot enough, all right!”

“Notenough? Not enough how? Not enough for what?”

Donnagestured wildly to the room around her. “All of this! What if..whatif I was always missing things, big, grand universal things, becauseI was meant to! What if Lance, what if my own mother wasright! Maybe I’m just meant to care about, I dunno, tabloids androyal weddings and office gossip. I’m not supposed to have theuniverse in my charge! I don’t have medical knowledge or anindomitable will or an incorroptiple sense of right and wrong or anyof the things that would make me good at this! For Christ’s sake,you got hurt because I wanted to have a spa day, what kind ofcompanion is that? God, the more I think about it, the more I realizeyou can’t possibly want me here. Sure, you’ll tolerate me,because you have to, because I do that thing where I push and I pushand I push and don’t ever notice when someone’s just beingpolite, when they’re just putting up with me because I’venever given them a word in edgewise-”

Nomore comes out because Donna has started to hyperventilate. In awink, The Doctor is at her side, one of her hands wrapped in both ofhis own, and making sure that she’s looking at him. “Donna. Wejust fought off a creature with both physic and shape-shiftingabilities that are specifically meant to demoralize its targets. It’sgrueling. So these terrible thoughts,these feelings, thatyou’re having right now. I promise that they’ll pass, andI promise even more that they’re not true.”

Herbreathing slowed down, but she hardly looked any less distressed. Shewas at least able to kee speaking, throat no longer quite sotight. “That’s the thing though, it worked. What betterevidence is there that these thoughts are true than the fact that Icompletely froze. All those things had to do was look like mymother and say some of her greatest hits and I was paralyzed untilyou trapped it in an elevator shaft. What greater display is therethat I’m utterly uselesshere, just like shesaid?”

“Useless?!,”The Doctor sputteredfor a few moments if only so he wouldn’t scream. Ragingat the entirety of reality for the simple fact that his best friendcould ever feel this way about herself wasn’t going to helpmatters, but god did he want to. “Donna, nobodyis useless, least ofall you! Freezing one time doesn’t negate the fact that youobjectively put so much goodinto the universe.I’ve frozen more than that during afternoon tea. Donna, there arepeople that are alive and happy and freetoday because youshowed up and decided to help them. There are ballads and sculpturesand choirs made about youbecause you made thedeliberate choice to be kind. How many people can say that?”

“Yeah,but that’s not cause of me, is it? That’s just a side effect oftraveling with you, right? That’s what youdo, you go and helpand make things better and if someone happens to be coming along,they’re gonna get creditno matter what.”

“No,what? Not even slightly.Donna, you’ve seenme at my default, and it’s not good. Remember the Racnoss? You saidI just stood there, like a stranger, and you were right. I wouldn’thave left if you hadn’t pulled me out of there. Pompeii?I wouldn’t havelooked back. I wouldn’t have acknowledged myown daughter ifit hadn’t been for you. The good that we do is a testament to you,to how truly andincredibly brilliant you are.”

TheDoctor let go of her hand so that he could throw his own up in theair. “And, by the way, what’s this nonsenseabout me onlytolerating you?! I askedyou totravel with me. Youthink I go around offering to show the wonders of the stars toanybody? To people I onlytolerate? Forone I’m certainly not polite enough to put up with people that areonly tolerable and for twoI interrupted your weddingafter only 3 weeks because I missed you too much.What about that says tolerance?”

Theyweren’t out of the woods, but it felt like a victory nonethelesswhen Donna gave a hint ofa smile and replied,“Honestly just thought you has a thing for crashing my weddings.”

It’s teasing. That’s good.“Doing something twice hardly means you have a thingfor it. And to befair, both of those weddings needed a good crashing.”

The Doctor expected a rebuttal,at the very least a solid, “oi”. Instead, he gets a oneshouldered shrug and a “suppose so.” Less good. He decided tokeep talking. He felt like he could sing Donna’s praises for days,but he didn’t know if or when those praises would be effective.

“Andanother thing, this whole meant to be here concept. You found me.Twice. Great big grand old universe, all of time and space, infinitecosmos, and just when I’ve lost someone, just when I’vemost needed someone, thereyou were. Donna Noble, my savior.”

Donna sniffed, and scrubbed ather face with her hands, and smiled. She was coming back to herself.“Isn’t it more the other way around? Imean, you quite literally saved me less than 20 minutes again.”

“Maybewe save each other. Maybe that’s what makes this whole arrangementwork so well. I…..I know there are some things from your past thatI can’t fix, but when it comes to your future? I’m just hoping tobe in it. You are welcome to go home, I won’t stop you, but knowthat if you ever leave the Tardis, if you ever go back, that’sgoing to have to be yourchoice, because I’mgoing to fight to keep you around as long as I can.”

Donna searched his features,looking for any hints of insincerity. When she found none, she letout a deep breath, and said, “Okay. Okay.No, of course I don’twant to go home, not permanently. I believe you promised me somethingabout an intergalactically renowned adventure cruise? Let’s hitthat up and see how many hours it takes before it all goeshorrendously wrong.”

Some of the cheer in her voicewas carefully manufactured, but it was all right, because soon enoughit wouldn’t be. Soon enough, they’d be off, traveling and helpingand picking up pieces, as they do. As long as they were together andmoving forward, it would be alright.