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crossingthedreams · 3 months ago

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only around you — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone or as follow-up to day 8 (growing pains) and day 10 (humiliation) of the @angstober challenge. this is day 14. please, enjoy! feel free to comment or dm me :)

masterlist

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst. implied targaryen incest (uncle/niece). death/relative’s death. mentions of war.

Aemond Targaryen was many things. Ruthless, unforgiving, hateful and a kinslayer — some would say. He was also dedicated, ambitious and resourceful, as many could attest.

He was not, however, nor would ever be, heir. Growing up as the second option, constantly ostracized, made Aemond resent this fact more than words could ever be able to express. Now, with his father dead and his siblings at war, an opportunity presented itself.

All the politics in the world, all the hate and the terrible memories from his childhood would never measure up to the pain he felt seeing his niece leave King’s Landing, probably forever, on the back of her dragon, the Cannibal, on the night his father passed away and the age of terror began.

Aemond was many things, that much was true. However, he never thought he would be heartbroken.

Across Blackwater Bay, on Dragonstone, the niece he reminisced about laid in bed, wearing her mother’s clothes.

You left King’s Landing, which had been your home for most of your life, with only the clothes on your body, a necklace and dagger, and your dragon.

Arriving in Dragonstone with the Cannibal was complicated because, well, he got the name for a reason. You had to leave him as far as possible from the other dragons, to avoid any mishappens.

Only Vhagar made herself known to the Cannibal. The two of them were hardly birds of a feather, but they could tolerate each other and not kill themselves.

Much like yourself, the Cannibal would not be a problem unless bothered. And, unfortunately, you were bothered.

When news came that your older brother, Lucerys, perished in an encounter with Vhagar and Aemond, you froze. As your mother raged and your father drank, you just stood there. The princess Rhaenys left quickly, surely to send news to Driftmark as well, and Jacaerys was far away in Winterfell.

You just stood there, consumed with thoughts about how everything had gone to Hell and back. Your mother would take years, if ever, to recompose herself from this loss, and there were surely many others to come.

Something had to be done. As the child of the one true Queen, and as the Princess, it was your duty to do something.

So, you made your arrangements, talked to your informants in both Dragonstone and King’s Landing. That’s why you were now walking through the Street of Silk, only one guard following you, hoping the message had reached its recipient.

At the time and place you had informed, Aemond Targaryen presented himself amongst whores and commoners, and, well, you.

“Thank you for meeting me. It was the most sensible choice”, you said, quietly. It wouldn’t be wise to speak High Valyrian in this place, nor to show your hair. That’s why you intended to speak only the common tongue and hide beneath your cloak, just like Aemond was doing.

“You are far less sensible, dear niece”.

“Only around you, uncle”, you replied, teeth gritted. It was true. Only Aemond could make your blood boil. But, as a dragon, as a child of fire, wasn’t that your purpose? Shouldn’t you be around the one who ignites your fire? Shouldn’t you surround yourself with who or what makes you a dragon?

The hood still covered both of you to the outside world, but your faces were visible to one another.

You desperately wanted to reach towards his face and feel him, but not here, and not now. Not before you asked the one question that was bothering you, killing you, for many moons.

“What happened that night with Luke?”

Aemond sighed, as if he knew what was coming but still felt tired in having to reply. “I regret that”, he said, “Believe me. I do”.

The worst part is that you did believe him. You knew how Aemond’s temper and mind worked.

A passerby bumped into Aemond, making him stumble towards you. Your back hit the wall, and Aemond approached you even more. You looked around, trying to find your guard. It wasn’t wise to be left alone with someone who could easily make you hostage. But when one of Aemond’s hands reached the wall behind you, close to your head, you lost your track of thought completely.

He was close, and yet he was so far.

“Why did you come here?”, he half-spoke, half-whispered. His one eye was darkening, and it scanned your entire face.

“I had to know”, you replied, breathly. Your body instinctively moved towards Aemond. Your hips, once flushed against the wall, were elevated to get closer to his. Your chest was rising and falling quickly, and you couldn’t take your eyes from his mouth.

Even in chaos, you still wanted to know. You wondered, like all maidens do, what it was like to be touched. But you didn’t want just anybody’s touch, you only wanted, only ever dreamed of Aemond.

“What”, he began, words punctuated by how his face came closer to yours, “did you”, he continued, “wanted to know?”. By the time he finished, his lips were just an inch from yours. You could feel his breath, and your eyes closed by themselves.

Amidst the heat, coldness hit you. Your eyes opened.

“I wanted to know why you usurped my mother’s throne and killed my brother, uncle”.

He stepped away, looking betrayed. You didn’t know how he found the audacity in himself to feel betrayed, when you lost so much because of his recklessness.

You wanted to look cold, but you knew your eyes gave away the hurt you felt. You loved your uncle, you wanted him and you would’ve made marriage arrangements between the two of you. He had thrown that all away the second he decided to slaughter your brother.

If Aemond’s temper could get the best of him, yours could get the best of you too. He was the only one who provoked these feelings, so he would be the only one around whom these sentiments would arise. And to hell with his own reactions.

“Nyke māzigon kesīr hae nykeā naejot īlva se se jorrāelagon nyke felt syt ao, uncle. Naejot vestragon geros ilas, se jaelagon ao sȳz biarves. Nyke jeldan naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion mēre mōrī jēda, se nyke gōntan (I came here as a courtesy to our closeness and the love I felt for you, uncle. To say goodbye, and wish you good fortune. I wanted to see your face one last time, and I did)”. To hell with it all. Nobody was paying attention, nobody would notice you weren’t speaking the common tongue. With your hand rising to your chest, you proceeded, “This feeling, this fear, this is not normal to me. I will miss you dearly, uncle. Love only ever came to me around you”.

Aemond thought his heart had already dealt with all the heartbreak it could. He was wrong. As he left his niece without so much as a goodbye, only the memory of her tears already engraved in fire in his mind, he was certain: there was no pain worse.

Of course, the pain had only begun. The first thing he heard when he arrived in his chambers at the Red Keep were the screams of his sister, and the second was his brother bursting in his room.

The little prince, Jaeharys, was dead. Slaughtered in his own bed, before the eyes of the Queen Helaena.

Was that your purpose then?, he thought. To distract him as the others of your pretender’s bunch assassinated a little boy in his bed?

Only around you would Aemond lower his guard. It was the perfect plan for the Rogue Prince and his cunning daughter.

Aemond scuffed as his brother raged. His mind was already racing, not only with thoughts of the Throne, but thoughts of revenge. Sīr ziry rhaenagon (So it begins), he thought.

Sīr ziry rhaenagon.

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treepan0 · 13 days ago

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You know what? Koall lore dump + Janemba headcanon writing stuff (because it is needed to understand Koall)

So usually when writing Janemba I use his background from Buu's fury over the movie, as it makes him a lot more flexible and easier to write than being left over evil juice from villains before him.

From there I expanded: how did he get in there? How did he impact the world before his imprisonment? Why has he locked away? What about his family? Etc.

That last example is actually where Koall got her start lore wise, I was designing this demon lady and randomly thought "hey, what if she was Janemba's mom?" At one point, it kind of stuck.

Other details came later, for example her bodice was inspired by one of my first magical girl animes: Princess tutu. Usually it has its own modifications and flair, similar to how madoka magica changed it so it wasn't too similar legally.

So yes Koall is a dark magical girl, however I like using my knowledge of the trope to make her less annoying. To clarify Universe 2 attempted to parody magical girls, but kind of misses why they're so beloved.

In other words: universe two only scrapes the surface of potential for a magical girl character, thus Koall was born from my knowledge, disappointment and needing a bit more fan lore for my beloved demon son.

So going through the lore here now: Koall is from a magical system that isn't really common anymore, however she has gone through and learned as much as she can about it. Slowly she has unlocked many powerful transformations, however the seventh she was advised to never teach another to use unless to be a replacement for herself, as its power was to an absurdity and everyone else wanted to maintain order as it is.

Koall of course accepted this fact and moved on, eventually learning of universe two's magic system, she took the time to teach some a thing or two in her earlier years with this state. Eventually after a long while passes she feels lonely, and visits her original home for a bit despite being banished.

And while she is initially caught for being present when she was not meant to be, she's handed a baby boy told his name is Janemba and kicked back out with the kid. Knowing that children have their minds affected by what they see from an early age, she takes a more modest appearance at least until the boy grows up fully.

These early years take a long time and she's immediately learned why Janemba was kicked out with her, they were afraid of his power more than anything else. Seeing a chance to be maliciously compliant but also getting attached, she raises him to adulthood and never once held the truth from him, but told and reminded him that she loves him dearly, and that a biological connection was never needed to be her son.

This is in fact the truth from her, she just never told him that they tried to banish him, because they didn't tell her directly. Eventually she lets him travel to where he was thrust into her arms, and that's where the backstory of being a kingpin of an organized crime ring back in the demon realm begins. It leads to a situation where Janemba stays in the demon realm most of the time, but visits Koall on the holidays.

Koall doesn't mind this arrangement one but, and is just happy to see her son happy. Unfortunately one day she loses everything, as Beerus visits Koall to tell her he had to seal her son away in the soul scrubber. it leads to a sense of grief that consumes her ever since, at this point all knowledge of Koall are just legends of either a powerful dark magical girl, or a powerful succubus that terrified many.

Either way she's pretty much a very sad hermit people haven't seen a glimpse of, in like thousands of years and won't see again until Janemba's freed. Additionally she's under the same laws as gods of destruction, angels and Kais, Koall cannot interfere with the struggles over other beings but can teach them a thing or two.

#dragon ball #dbz #dragon ball z #dragon ball super #dbs #koall (oc)#dbz oc #dragonball oc #demon oc #magical girl #magical girl oc #Janemba #oc lore #lore dump

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anajonessy · 3 years ago

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I have three siblings who are all ten to thirteen years older than me, and they all went to boarding school. Because of the age gap, my siblings and I didn't really grow up together, and I spent a lot of time by myself. I also didn’t have a great relationship with my mom, so when I was younger–even though I’d developed a strong sense of social independence, I always said that being around people was the best thing in the world.

I moved out of my family home soon after I turned eighteen or nineteen and since then, I’ve lived with a bunch of people, and I was constantly surrounded by friends and friends of friends, and total strangers. Everyone was in such close proximity–I went from feeling like an outsider to feeling like a social person, and then back again–and I was ok with that. I think I might’ve even equated it to being happy that I’d get anxious after spending even a little time by myself. I felt so restless and miserable, mostly because of the feeling of loneliness that consumed me.

For years it didn't occur to me that, as with most things, my discomfort with being alone might be a sign that I am not meeting my emotional needs.

Fast forward to a little over a year ago, I moved to the outskirts of town and because of that, I don’t really go out as often anymore unless it’s for work. And then, of course, the pandemic happened–I had to quit my job and after getting the curse, I started spending more and more time by myself and that has led to some great things… and some really terrible things, like, it hasn’t particularly been great for my mental health (or rather, lack thereof lol).

But that moment in self-isolation had me thinking about how much I rely on other people to make myself feel ok, and also how incredibly liberating it is to lose the unrealistic expectations put on me to be ‘happy’ and ‘productive’ all the time. I’m an adult and it really sucks that I am so late to the self-realization party haha, but wow, it feels good to finally allow myself to feel what I feel when I feel it.

So these days whenever I feel irrationally upset about anything (or nothing at all!), instead of simply shelving it and focusing on everyone and everything else that is going on, I take a step back, breathe and think about the ways I can create and hold space for myself. Sometimes that means staying in bed longer, reading, trying out a new recipe, listening to a podcast, working on a project, putting my phone on ghost mode, or taking myself out for walks… just doing whatever it is that makes me feel comfortable and content. Other times it’s sitting with myself staring into blank space, or crying (for like, an hour… or more?!?!?!!!!) and feeling so much better afterward.

Anyways, it’s 7:30AM and I just woke up to pee. I’ve got about an hour to journal and relax in bed before I need to get up, make myself breakfast, hit the shower, then head out to see my psychiatrist and counselor. It’s going to be a good day to hang out with myself today.

If you’re reading this, I hope you can find time to hang out with yourself today too. Enjoy yourself. Give yourself advice on life, love, work, and more. Tickle your scalp. Take yourself out on a date. Indulge in self-pleasure. Laugh at your own jokes. Go have fun!

#anajonessy #journal #diary #notes #letters #spilled thoughts #ADHD #actually adhd #mental health #quiet bpd #35mm #unsplash #mikhail volkov

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the-exhausted-xexandaler · 8 months ago

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I look at the young woman while she stares up at me. I estimate she must be in her early twenties based on how I’ve seen humans in the past age. She doesn’t seem to be fearful… is that admiration in her eyes?

As I consider the woman, she begins to speak. ‘Oh great lord of the mountains! I have come as sacrifice for the bounties you have given us and our lands! Devour me as you please!’

… maybe less admiration and more worshiping? Also… ‘Great Lord of the Mountains’? Isn’t that the title of the behemoth I bartered with for this cavern for a few centuries ago? I look closer at the girl who’s breath seems to have become ragged.

‘My dear child, are you ill? You seem to have labored breath. I can whip up a good stew for you be-‘

‘Oh heavens! My Lord plans to boil me in a broth! What a joyous day!’ She exclaims, interrupting my offer to feed and send her home. ‘Might I recommend some of the garlic we have offered you last month My Lord? It’s excellent as a seasoning.’

I reel back at the zeel this girl has for being devoured. I feel like something is being lost in translation… ‘Erm… I believe there is a misunderstanding between us, but before I explain my choices, I must ask… why are you so keen to be consumed? Is life not a precious thing for humans? And further more are you not still in the prime of your youth? Surely a beautiful 20-something old woman like yourself must have many suitors after her hand in marriage.’ I inquire.

She blushes intensely. ‘O-oh dear… My Lord sees me as beautiful? Is it possible that you don’t want to devour my bones, but make me bear your lineage?!? Oh what a joyous day!!’ She shrieks.

I’m starting to think this woman ‘doesn’t have all her screws tightened’ I believe is the phrase humans used last decade. Or was it ‘screws loose’? What are screws anyways? I’ve heard of them but never seen such a phenomenon.

As I’m considering this dilemma, the maiden begins undressing. ‘Surely My Lord would prefer to see the body of his ‘prey’ before he begins to ‘devour’ this morsel yes~?’ Sleek silver hair and a rosy complexion. Funny… she almost looks like the saintess I raised when I was younger. But that was many centuries ago, so she shouldn’t be alive still. Unless she made a deal with the Demon Lord (my other daughter) which I find hard to believe given how those two girls bickered over everything. I may have raised them a bit to reliant on me with how they would fight about who would become my ‘bride’. Ah the memories.

‘May I ask you some questions my dear?’

‘Certainly! What do you want to know? My blood type? My three sizes? My favorite position to be defiled in~?’ What nonsense is she on about now? I was only meaning to ask about her lineage, but she seems to run at her own rhythm. ‘Oh!’ She starts. ‘But I suppose I should correct you on one thing My Lord. I am not in my twenties.’

Interesting. I had no idea that cosmetics have come so far in these last few centuries. I really must andromorph more often to visit the towns. Perhaps it’ll be a bit of a nice change of pace. Still, fo cosmetics to make someone older look like they are in the prime of their youth, that is impressive.

As my attention is focused on planning an outing, the woman drops a rather large pheonix egg right into my lap. ‘I’ll have you know that this next year I will be turning 15~ so we’ll have plenty of time to make an heir for you My Lord~’

‘15!! Heavens what has happened to humanity to allow them to grow so quickly. Why when my daughters were your age they were such petite and sweet creatures. But… what has happened?’ I am in shock that such a… I believe that people back a few years ago would call her ‘healthy’ girl could still be in her teens. Is it the magic I’ve been loosing as I slept? Something in the water? Would that explain why she is being so rediculous?

‘My Lo-‘

‘And another thing. Please enough with the ‘My Lord’ exclamation. My name has been for eons and forever shall be Jetrien, so please call me that. Now, explain in order. First, what has happened to allow humans to grow so fast? Second, why does your colony send me offerings every time the moon is full? Third, what is wrong with your head that you are alright with being devoured in both a culinary and carnal way. And forth and finally…’ I take a deep inhale to make it clear as possible that this is the most important question of them all. ‘Why do you look so similar to Lauren the Saintess?’

The girl seems stunned. Did I maybe give her to many things to consider? Maybe I should’ve given her these questions as time went on? Look at her. She’s shivering in confusion. Hmmm… maybe she is the descendant of Lauren. The dear used to do that every time I scolded her.

‘Y-you’re name…’ she stutters out after a minute of quivering.

‘Is there something wrong wit-‘

‘THE NAME OF OUR GOD IS SPOKEN!!!’ She shrieks out loudly.

Gods above even my ears are ringing. I ever realized this until now, but this cavern holds quite the echo. Maybe that deal with the behemoth was to good to be true after all.

‘First! Yes growth! It’s believed that the hormones introduced to make animals and plants grow faster over the past few years have been making humans grow faster as well. My sister is 12 but she looks like she’s already ready to enroll in university Lord Jetrien.’

So that answers that. But hang on… hormones? What are those? I suppose they might be a spell to increase harvest yields, but spells like those wear off after the harvest season.

‘Second!’ She exclaims while I’m mulling over the details of these ‘hormones’. ‘We have been bringing you only our freshest of produce as tribute in thanks to the bountiful blessings you have given us Lord Jetrien. From the waters that flow from these mountains to the flourishing fields and safe environment that would allow all species to prosper.’

Oh so they are embursing me for services? I mean I guess my magic had been keeping predators out of the humans civilization, but she said ‘all life to prosper’ which means that it might not just be humans living there. Interesting since last I recalled humans in particular were a rather proud species that saw everything else as ‘beneath them’.

‘Third! I’ve been training for years for this day! After I found out that they were planning to give a pure, beautiful and intelligent female sacrifice for our god once they found the perfect offering, I learned everything I could from ancient languages, sciences, agriculture and animal husbandry to more modern inventions like computer literacy, modern literature and even some more sensual topics~’ She said that final part while shivering again.

Do I really look like I’m wanting some loud kids interrupting my quiet time? I can hardly handle this one. Also what is this ‘computer’ she’s talking about. Is it yet another language?

‘And as for your final question Lord Jetrien…’ She herself took a deep breath as if to copy how important my question was. Very cheeky. ‘I don’t have an answer for that. I know that genetics play a large roll in the appearance of a child as a hereditary standard, but if I recall from my studies the lady saintess never wed or birthed children.’

‘Oh?’ I ask. This girl actually is quite a wealth of information. Though… ‘So my first dear daughter never found a mate for herself? How upsetting.’ It’s not that I wanted her to find a handsome man to have many children with, but she was always eager to have children. She even would ask me to marry her when she was older. Of course I would be there to officiate her wedding. Come to think of it… ‘Wait? Then what about Seriana? I believe your records may refer to her as a ‘Demon Lord’, but she was the one I saw as my second daughter. Tell me that she found someone to cherish and love for eternity.’

The girl’s body jerked at my intensity but calmed down slightly. ‘Y-you raised both the Saintess of Purity and the Greatest Demon Lord in history? You truly are a god not that it was ever in question!’ She exclaimed. So much for calming down…

‘Would you calm down and answer my questions please? I must know what happened to my children ever since I let them be the adults they were.’

‘Ahem… yes Lord Jetriel. Sadly it is said that the Demon Lord Seriana never had any children herself. When questioned by both of their nations nobels over why they would let their lineage die, they oddly both had this to say…’

‘The only one allowed to be with me is the greatest of all beings. Our god and lord who raised me and that terrible woman.’

‘… as both of them claimed that they wouldn’t marry or birth the child of any other man or beast, the died with none but their friends and allies. Peacefully in both of their slumbers is what the records say, but that’s up for debate. Heads of the nations and all that.’ The girl shrugged. I do understand how mortals be with their desires for power.

I lowered my head into my hands and prayed to the goddess for my children. It may have been centuries since I last saw them, but they were still as precious and loved as my own flesh and blood. Forgive your father for abandoning you both.

‘I see.’ I finally say after a while of trying to calm my nerves. ‘It seems that the world has changed quite a bit since I last left this cavern. Perhaps it’s time for me to stretch the old wings and see the world as it is now?’ I’ve always been fond of exploring new places even when I was acting as those girls father. Is the Sacred Tree of the Elven Race still standing proud? The Dwarven Nation might have finally collapsed from their over reliance on the bounty beneath the soil. Who knows what new races may have come into being or what new dragons are born now. Well… one here might know.

I glare at the girl intently and yet again she flusters. ‘L-Lord Jetrien! Do yoh mean to leave your sacred perch atop this holy mountain?!?’ She shrieked.

I hate to say that over the course of this conversation I have grown slightly used to her high energy. ‘Holy ground or not, I seem to have spent to much time in isolation that the world has left these old bones behind. I believe seeing what has changed will be a good chabge of pace for me. However, I know not where is best, so I must ask a few more questions if you will allow me.’

‘Y-yes of course Lord Jetrien! Oh this is heavenly! Our god will bless the world once more with his glorious appearance! Look out world! The father of alk is coming to remind all of his brilliance!!!’

… Hopefully I can get her to become a bit more lax before I start exploring the world. If this woman has studied everything, than that must include geographical knowledge. Now then…

Where first shall I go?

An old dragon just wants to be left alone, but the new village that just cropped up a few decades ago keep leaving gifts at his doorstep… and now they’ve just left a maiden!

#writing prompts #writing response #short story #well… I tried to keep it short #dragon #have a good day/night

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ijustwantedtobeoneofthestrokesuk · 2 months ago

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Y2K Tech

Online

Today our mobile phone is our second brain, we use it for everything except for making phone calls…

We stream tv and music without thinking, we communicate via WhatsApp and DMs, our social media personality is our personality. We are online. In the late ‘90’s/early 2000’s we had to go online, it wasn’t fast, or convenient. It was a different time, unless you didn’t live through it, you didn’t live it.

In 1999 the way we communicated was being redefined as Nokia launched the 3210, the first mobile targetted to teens with snake and coloured covers (easily pleased back then). Over 160 million 3210’s were sold, making it the most popular phone to date. A year later BlackBerry released the first phone that had access to e-mails. BlackBerry were innovative as they brought instant messaging on the go to the market with BBM, their instant messenger service.

We had already been messaging our school friends (and strangers we’d befriended online) with MSN Messenger, on the desktop computer. Messaging strangers online is normal these days but back then you’d be warned out off it, in fear of being groomed but for a generation, it was a new place where friendships could blossom, with people who lived in other countries or people you met at a gig.

Mobile phones changed language as the 140 character limit on text messages saw the introduction of “text language” to squeeze as much into your 10p text message using “u” for “you”, “4” for “for” etc… but it was MSN Messenger where LOL (laugh out loud) and BRB (be right back) just became modern-day shorthand, even if you weren’t actually laughing...

How we access content today is unrecognisible to how we did in the 2000’s, but that change started in 1998…

The boom of the CD started in 1984 but it dramatically collapsed in 2000 thanks to 2 tech-obsessed 16-year-olds, Shawn Fanning and Sean Parker who met each other online in 1998. They were both highly intelligent, Sean got into coding aged 7, at 14 he discovered ‘hacking’ which opened up a new community to him. Hackers would share information with each other in online forums (we call that world “the dark web” today).

They both moved to Silicon Valley, the new tech hub in the Bay Area, Calfornia to develop their first project, Napster, leaving school behind. They didn’t think they were doing anything illegal, they were music fans themselves. Napster was revolutionary and has changed the way people consume and value music today but again, their battle was nothing new. The music industry had fought against ‘free’ music before with the introduction of the radio, When the Napster founders had to defend the platform in court, they compared it to photocopy machines and VHS recorders. Napster was a peer-to-peer platform that essentially cut out the middle man, users didn’t need to upload or download MP3 files (songs), they were transferred directly from the user's hard drive.

The internet has reimagined creative industries including print and film, but it nearly killed the music industry.

Napster started to grow in the fall of 1999 on college campuses where high-speed internet was available. The founders tried to negotiate deals with record labels but they weren’t playing ball and reacted too slow, suddenly it was too late and meetings turned from conversations to legal battles. The ongoing, public legal battles only helped Napster get more popular and more music was shared. Its disruption was unique and investors poured money into the platform but it wasn’t built to make money, it couldn’t be monetized.

Napster was the first ‘file-sharing’ platform. Before it, having the ability to get music for free was unthinkable, once Napster had gone huge it reached a stage where consumer habits were irreversible, for years.

It revolutionised how we listen to music. It also birthed the ‘I want it now’ attitude, the ‘on-demand’ culture we live in now started here. We no longer needed to leave the house to buy a CD, come home and listen to it when you could press a couple of buttons, seven minutes later your dial-up connection would download it to your computer. Without Napster and the peer-to-peer generation, we wouldn’t be living in the streaming world. Consumers turn to piracy when they can’t get hold of a product legitimately. It was morally and legally wrong, users knew that too but it was liberating. It was also an opportunity to discover new music as you could see what else is in the library of the user you’re downloading from.

While some artists, such as Limp Bizkit supported the platform, seeing it as a gateway for new acts to reach an audience, Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, became the most vocal name against it. The band spoke up after hearing one of their songs on radio stations around the world before it was even finished. They were baffled, they didn’t understand how this could have happened, it was traced back to Napster, which they hadn’t heard of. For Metallica, it wasn’t about money, it was about choice, they hadn’t been asked if they would like to be involved, it was out of their hands.

Lars took the names of 300,000 Napster users who had downloaded Metallica's music to Napster HQ. The platform removed the users but within hours they had created new accounts under new names. Lars was portrayed as the villain but looking back, he was right.

Napster was hijacking a multi-million-pound creative industry without doing anything however that was never the purpose, it was built with naivety, both Sean and Shawn just thought it was a good idea. It made sense to them.

For years record labels had been used to making billions of £, suddenly that was taken away. Napster was forced to close down in July 2001 after the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America) won the legal battle of copyright infringement but it didn’t solve the problem as users found other platforms. At its peak there were 80 million users on Napster, 20,000 of them were sued by record labels.

The Birth of Online Music

In January 2000 Pandora launched in the US, the initial version was an online radio station, an alternative to the already established stations while, 2 months later, in London, Freenet was created, an indestructible file-sharing site, the only way to stop it would be to remove it off every single computer that had used it.

As Napster was gaining headlines with its very public court cases and legal spats, another peer-to-peer platform launched and this time, it wasn’t limited to sharing MP3 files, which for the user was both good and bad.

On the 3rd May 2000 Limewire went live and it was responsible for 80% of illegally downloaded content in the US. During its 10-year lifespan, Limewire was downloaded 200 million times, at its most prominent time, it had over 50 million daily users.

Internet was slow back in the early 2000’s, it could take 2 days to download a film and once downloaded it often didn’t work, it was the wrong film, wrong language, be porn or filled with viruses that would kill your computer. There were numerous court cases linked to videos of minors in porn being shared on Limewire, these were often accidentally downloaded.

The third major player in peer-to-peer platforms was Kazaa, launched in March 2001 by Niklas Zennström and Janus Friis (who would go on to create Skype). Like Limewire, files of all kinds could be shared and there were plenty of viruses knocking about, including some deliberately created by the RIAA.

Kazaa’s downfall began in 2003 when the RIAA started to sue its users rather than the platform which saw its user base drop off dramatically and it closed down in 2004.

Then there was The Pirate Bay from Sweden, created in 2003, the peer-to-peer file-sharing platform with a difference as it used torrent files that were harder to monitor. The platform was shut down several times, only to reappear under new domains. In 2009 The Pirate Bay founders were sentenced to 1 year in prison and fined £2.8 million after being found guilty of copyright infringement.

To combat illegal downloads Apple launched the iTunes Store in April 2003 where users could pay for MP3s. It was a success story but it came too late, if it had been around when Napster was at its peak it might have had a bigger impact but people knew they could get music for free now.

Limewire’s presence was much greater than Napster and Kazaa. In 2004 it became the biggest peer-to-peer platform and the second biggest access for digital music, behind the iTunes Store. It gained new users after Napster closed, people discovered it through online forums. Following criticism from the music industry, the developers created a code that would block copyrighted content being shared but users found ways around it.

The RIAA took Limewire to court in 2006 for copyright infringement while MGM sued Kazaa’s parent company for $100 million. By 2007 the US music industry was losing $12 billion a year from music piracy and in 2010, after a 4-year court battle with the RIAA Limewire was shut down, initially asking for $72 trillion but settled out of court for $105 million.

For all the bad that illegal downloading brought, it also allowed people to broaden their tastes, musicians had more ways to find influences and create more diverse music. The standard has also had to up its game, an album can no longer get away with a few singles and throw-away fillers.

NEXT CHAPTER

#Napster #Kazaa #Itunes #Limewire #metallica #file sharing

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vake-hunter · 4 years ago

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Fingerking and Devil lore post!

Spoilers for the Parabolan War, Heart’s Desire Endings, Nemesis Endings and Sunless Skies

So what are the Fingerkings anyway?

"We live behind the glass, the Fingerkings. Parabola is ours. If you want free passage of this place," it says, "that comes only from us." It flicks your ankle with the tip of a forked tongue. "Trust that I am the least dangerous of my kind."

It speaks other names. Orts. Boil. A Spire. Be cautious of these beings and places. Show respect, and do not make demands unless you are willing to bargain.

— Dome of Scales, Occupied in Parabola; Fallen London

What about the Devils?

"After the Well of the Wolf," he says, "the Devils could no longer remain in the sight of the Judgements: not if we intended to live. We escaped through Caduceus into Parabola, the place that is not; and from there onward. We were a people in exile. Not strong enough to take a place and hold it for our own. Not weak enough to be welcomed as refugees. It was an intolerable time and I take no pleasure in remembering it."

— Ask him about his memories of Caduceus via The Repentant Devil; Sunless Skies

Hold on, back up, The Well of the Wolf? What happened?

Revolution.

"It was a waste," the Repentant Devil says. "The protests, the peaceful fights and the violent ones. We were never likely to win by those methods."

You wait.

"Control what something consumes," he says, "and you control what it is. The feeding of stars is a delicate art. I had spent centuries in cultivating them, studying their palates, watching for evidence of their responsive growth. I had influence. Now, how much can any Devil say the same?"

— Ask more about rebelling against the Judgements via The Repentant Devil; Sunless Skies

So the Devils and the Fingerkings met in Caduceus.

[...]

The devils swarming into Parabola longed for many things: for souls, for escape, for their own deaths and the things that waited beyond each death. The Fingerkings saw their longing, and welcomed them as food.

The devils were bargainers, contract-writers, enemies of the stars. The Fingerkings saw their nature, and welcomed them as allies.

The devils were hollow, skin-shedders, eternally in chrysalis. The Fingerkings saw their capacity, and welcomed them as salvation.

— Receive the story in the form of cascabel venom via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

The Parlous Knot was the greatest Fingerking-congregation of its time: vast, numerous, indivisibly loyal.

It was the Knot that arranged the treaty. The devils would dwell in Parabola as long as they wished, but one day, they would depart, carrying any Fingerking who wished to possess a devil.

This Fingerking before you is descended from the Parlous Knot; it hatched on the day the bargain was fulfilled.

— Ancestral Stories via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Aeons passed. The devils were in no haste to go. They built furnaces that scarred the land. They traded with Irem; they changed Irem. They searched the mirrors endlessly for a suitable destination in which to hide themselves, but always that goal remained out of reach – until they found the Neath. Until the first person brought the first looking-glass below.

Then they were ready to leave Parabola. Fulfilling their bargain, they opened their mouths to the Fingerkings, offering them transport into the Neath.

But the inside of a devil is too changeable, too corrosive. A Fingerking cannot survive in such a place. The Parlous Knot was dissolved in the gullet of a Grand Devil.

The devils returned alone to the Is, unpossessed, and the Fingerkings remained, trapped without change.

— Ancestral Stories via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Slightly different text of the above from having certain qualities

With Vengeance Nemesis Ending:

Aeons passed. The devils freely used the hospitality of Parabola. They defiled the land; they let the Parlous Knot grow old waiting for them.

At last the day came when the devils were prepared to leave, the moment for them to enter their Hell.

All the Fingerkings gathered, the Parlous Knot first of all. The scales of its snake-cohabitants had faded to silver and grey; the eyes of its members were glazed like marbles. But weary and eager for Being, the Parlous Knot climbed into the gullet of a grand devil–

And expired there in agony. The devils cannot be possessed. They cannot house a Fingerking. They must have known this. They must have traded on it. They must never have intended to honour the bargain.

They must be punished.

They must be followed and punished.

In the name of the Parlous Knot. For the sake of every other who ever accepted a contract with a devil.

With Escape Ending of Heart’s Desire:

Aeons passed. The Fingerkings waited. The devils built furnaces in Parabola, and laid down trade routes. The Fingerkings waited. The devils looked into mirrors, and considered new homes, and did not choose any of them. The Fingerkings waited, though patience is not in their nature.

At last the devils saw the Neath. Their destination was chosen! Their escape was selected!

There were so many devils that every Fingerking alive would have an escape. But as a matter of respect, the first possession was offered to the Parlous Knot, for it had formed the treaty, and it had lived into a great old age in the hope of seeing it fulfilled.

But a grand devil swallowed the Parlous Knot into a pit of corrosion and absence: for there is nothing in a devil that can sustain a Fingerking. The Parlous Knot perished, in the sight of all its descendants, down to the smallest egg. And the devils went laughing into the Neath, and not one Fingerking escaped with them.

With Time Ending of Heart’s Desire:

Aeons passed. The Fingerkings waited. The devils built furnaces in Parabola, and laid down trade routes; looked out of mirrors, and considered new homes; and for generations searched for their new Hell.

When they discovered the Neath at last, the Fingerkings proved unable to possess them. To be swallowed by a devil was death and dissolution. A Fingerking lives on desire, and a devil cannot sustain it. It was the death of the Parlous Knot.

This story is told in venom and fury, but you are able to know the tale without being drawn in. You too have bargained everything for time. You have known the devils' side.

With the Impenitent Devil:

"Make no bargains that you cannot enforce," says the Impenitent Devil, when you have framed your question. "We did not betray the Fingerkings. We upheld our side of the bargain. When we left Parabola, we offered every one the chance to dwell inside a devil. Sadly, they did not find their new homes hospitable. We are not easy to possess. Not, at least, for such insubstantial creatures."

The Fingerking lifts its head to hiss at him. He pays it no mind. "How is it our fault if they did not understand what they asked for?"

He does not say the devils were ignorant. He does not say they made the treaty in good faith. He does not say they believed they could rescue the Fingerkings.

So bargains?

"We always keep our bargains," says the Serpent of the Dome: almost affronted, perhaps, by any suggestion they might not keep a bargain with you.

— Purchase a greater freedom of the place via Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

[...] But this Fingerking is young, small, greedy. It has made its bargain without being ready for the dangers. [...]

— An Illusion, Viewed from the Audience via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

The Fingerking is waiting, wide-jawed, for precisely the correct moment to open Parabola to the audience volunteer. Only the right victim, in the right state of mind, will bargain with a Fingerking, and allow himself to be possessed.

The victim must be at once anxious and bored, eager to be on-stage and sure nothing will happen, jaded with London and wishing against hope for some glimmer of cosmogone.

It is like waiting for the guards to leave their posts; it is like waiting for fruit to ripen on the vine.

But here, the moment's come. The victim's longing is intense, their doubt overpowering. Now, now, precisely now, the Fingerking lets them through the mirror, to the place where all dreams are true…

— An Illusion, Viewed from Behind via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Devils are known for making contracts and being experts of loopholes and law. They are often lawyers and tricksters. They are known to be selfish and dangerous.

Fingerkings do trick people in order to try to possess them, but it is just as dangerous for them as those they are possessing. They have to be strong enough, through feeding off emotions, in order to do this. It also seems the person needs to be willing, even if they are misled. They must agree to the bargain.

Okay but what about roses and honey?

We know Devils tend to roses, they do so all over. The walls of Hell are the only place Exile’s Roses can grow. Prisoner’s Honey is made by Lamplighter Bees who have pollinated these specific roses. The honey takes people to Parabola, where like dreams and glass, they can be led astray by Fingerkings.

Order Serpentine from Knife-and-Candle says that the Devils did this on behalf of the Fingerkings, as a deal where the Fingerkings will give the Devil’s part of what they gain.

…THE LITTLE SNAKE asked the grumpiest bee in both worlds for help. And the bee said, why should I help? And the snake said, I will give you one-fifth of all I gain thereby. So the bee thought, and he said, in a far place there grows a rose. And that rose…

— Order Serpentine, Sorrowful

...THE ROSE, WHICH IS CALLED EXILE'S ROSE, has a property of passage. So shall I brew a honey from its dusts and pollens, and the honey shall be sweet, and it shall bring those who taste it, here to your dwelling. And sometimes they shall stay forever. And the little snake was very pleased with all the new friends the honey brought, but...

— Order Serpentine, Lachrymose

#fallen london #devils #fingerkings #lore #sunless skies #fallen london spoilers #sunless skies spoilers #parabola

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - “Rapunzel Knows Best!” ( A first half of S3 Recap)

So I decided to place the recap after Be Very Afraid for several reasons. For starters it’s where the season three hiatus took place. It’s also framed like a cliffhanger episode the same as The Great Tree and Queen for a Day; so while Cassandra’s Revenge is technically the midseason finale, Be Very Afraid functionally servers this narrative purpose better. Finally I want to keep the Cassandra heavy stuff contained in it’s own recap later same as I did for Varian’s arc in season one.

Also keep in mind, everything I discussed in previous recaps still apply here. Nothings changed and you could argue that the issues I bring up now could have also apply to past seasons; they just happen to be at their worst here.

Here are the past recaps

To Filler or Not to Filler

Hey, What Ever Happened to That Varitas, Guy?

What Is the Point?

‘Whatta Twist’

And here are the episodes that’s covered in this recap

Rapunzel’s Return Part 1

Rapunzel’s Return Part 2

Return of the King

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne

No Time Like the Past

Beginnings

The King and Queen of Hearts

Day of the Animals

Be Very Afraid

Poorly Defined Conflicts

I’m not just talking about Cassandra’s lack of goals here either, though that is a part of it. I mean in several episodes the central conflict isn’t laid out clearly enough before being resolved. We flip from one set up to the next without ever resolving the first; like in Rapunzel’s Return when Cass and Varian fight for screen time or whenever Rapunzel is suppose to learn one lesson only for someone else to learn a completely different lesson in every other episode. And to this day I don’t know what Rapunzel and Feldspar’s subplot in Lost Treasure was suppose to be about.

There’s also of course the ill-defined overall conflict; which at this point has become convoluted and nonsensical to the extreme, and will only grow more aggravatingly stupid as the season progresses. The main villains lack clear goals, their motivations don’t align with previously stated facts, and the actual interesting conflict involving the threat of the rocks and their destruction of people’s lives and homes is just shoved under the rug and forgotten about.

There is no story without conflict. Having the conflict be all over the place is not only confusing but makes it harder for the audience to invest in what’s going on.

Failed Narrative Promises

Tying in with the above statement regarding conflicts, we have failed narrative promises. Rapunzel is repeatedly told to that she needs to learn something in several episodes only for her not to learn it at all. She either learns some unrelated ‘lesson’ that wasn’t established, (like in Rapunzel’s Return with her pervious goal about ‘opening up to others’ being switched out for a generic ‘responsibility’ lesson that at the last minute, where she doesn’t even do anything responsible,) or she winds up ‘teaching’ the opposite lesson to a different character thereby rewarding her for her bad behavior.

And that’s just within the induvial episodes themselves; there’s also broken narrative promises through out the overall story arc; like...

no justice/redemption for Lady Caine,

no acknowledgment that the Saporians are the victims of colonization

no conclusion regarding Corona’s murky past

no satisfying ending to Varian’s plot that sees everyone in involve grow

a poor copout of an explanation for Cassandra’s face/heel turn

The Dark Prince reveal going nowhere

The Brotherhood being put on a bus

King Frederic, or any royal, not being held accountable for their past actions

Lance’s new found responsibilities just being thrown away for the tenth time

The Disciples plot being being dropped

next to nothing in season two winds up being relevant

And Rapunzel, the protagonist of a coming of age story, fails to learn anything at all

I could probably go on but you get the gist. Tangled is incredibly frustrating show to watch because doesn’t deliver what it promises. You’re not being clever by ‘subverting audiences expectations’ unless you can justify your narrative decisions with previous set up. Tangled is too lazy to build proper set ups so it’s ‘twists’ leave you wanting to punch things rather then impressing you.

Character Assassinations

Every single character in Tangled the Series gets thrown under a bus, driven off a cliff, and then allowed to drown in the ocean of their completely unaware self-congratulatory smugness.

Rapunzel is turned into a bully

Cassandra is given the idiot ball to hold permanently

The King and Queen are lobotomized

Quinin gets replaced by a robot

The rest of the Brotherhood are pale shadows of what they could have been

Edmund is transformed from tragic complex figure into a dumb jerkoff who abuses his kid for a laugh

Zhan Tiri, once an ancient demon warlock, is reduced to a floating impotent ghost girl

The Saporians become poor hipster parodies

Cap is put on a bus

Any villain who isn’t Cass is gets ignored

Lance is infantilized to the point of absurdity

Eugene becomes a doormat

and poor Varian is forced to become a complacent victim to his abusers as oppose to being allowed to keeping his dignity

I think the only person who escapes this mass murder of characterization is freaking Calliope, and she’s hasn’t even appeared yet! (Well okay her and Trevor, maybe)

This all ties back into the poorly defined conflict and failed narrative promises. Rather than let the characters drive the story, they’ve become puppets to the plot, and plot is really stupid and forced, and circles back in on itself and is full of contradictions.

Manipulating the Audience’s Empathy to Do the Work for the Writers

The reason why the creators believe they can get away with such poor characterization and lazy writing is because they expect the audience to do all the heavy lifting for them.

Cass isn’t given an on screen reason for what she does because they’re hoping her fans will just automatically excuse her because they like her/relate to her and not, you know, get mad at the writers for dumbing her down. And after all who doesn’t love the creator’s pet? Meanies! That’s who!

No one calls out Rapunzel’s bullshit on screen, because if everyone likes her, then you, viewing audience, should too. Because if you have any sort of independent critical thinking abilities and a sense of right and wrong then clearly you’re ‘just a hater’.

Everyone should just shut up and be satisfied that Varian is even on screen now and be grateful for the scraps that they get cause he’s not the real point of the show and according to Chris ‘Varian fans aren’t real fans’. Even though they make up most of his viewing audience.

I could go on, but it’s just variations of the above. The writing in this series is very fond of gaslighting the audience and trying to trick them into justifying the absolute worst behaviors while desperately hoping they doesn’t noticed the continued downgrading and dismissal of characters they do like or once liked.

And the sad thing is, it’s worked. There are people to this day that still try to justify this show’s shitty morals and bend over backwards to excuse the likes of Rapunzel, Frederic, Cassandra, and Edmund. Worst, there are loud sections of the fandom, (usually on twitter) who think bullying is okay and follow in Chris and his characters footsteps. Most of them young impressionable girls who are now ripe for TREFS to indoctrinate because they use the same bullying tactics and excuses for authoritarianism.

Media does effect reality, but not in the way purists and antis would have you believe. No one is going to become a violent manic from playing a video game nor a sex offender because they read a smut fic. But they very much will conform to toxic beliefs if it’s repeated enough at them by authorities they ‘trust’; like say the world wide leading company known for family entertainment and children’s media, and the ‘friends’ they find within the fandom for said company...

I’m not saying you can’t enjoy Tangled the series or that you’re some how wrong for liking it’s characters, nor do you have to engage with every or any criticism thrown it’s way. But yes you need to think about the media you consume on some level and valid criticism is very much important to the fandom experience for precisely the above reasons.

Conclusion

This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg of what’s wrong with this show, but it is most of its biggest problems laid bare. Anything that haven’t covered here or in the past recaps will be explored in the final recap. Cause this is it folks; the last leg of the journey for this retrospective. When come back, hopefully next week, we’ll tackle Pascal’s Dragon.

#tangled #anti-tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta

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yandere-society · 4 years ago

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The Devil in the ICU

Pairing:

Synopsis: You’ve rarely spoken to your neighbor Jimin, but he’s always been kind to you. When you get into an accident that lands you in the ER, you’re grateful to see who’s taking such good care of you. It isn’t until later that you start to wonder… will you ever be leaving the hospital?

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Blood, murder/death, yandere themes, stalking themes, needles/IVs

Admin: @psycho-slytherin

Request:

How did you wind up here?

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fist, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

~Three weeks earlier~

Taehyung, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, looks as handsome as the day you married him. “Have a good day at work!”

You give him a quick kiss, shivering in the brisk morning air. “You too. Remember that we have that dinner tonight!”

Tae laughs. “Is that what we’re calling the awards ceremony? You know you’ve earned bragging rights.”

“Shush!” You boop him on the nose before turning and making for your car. On the other side of the fence, you can see your neighbor Jimin step out onto his porch. He catches your eye and, as Taehyung goes back inside, you smile amicably and nod at Jimin before getting into your car. You see him at his front door every morning, and he’s always friendly.

On your drive to the university campus, you think about tonight’s dinner. You’ll be presented with an awards for Arts Education despite being one of the youngest professors in the university’s faculty. You were thrilled when the dean of the school contacted you for the honor.

Once you park, you speedwalk to your first class of the day and burst through the door. You soon find yourself looking at twenty students, some bright-eyed, some more zombie-like.

“I’d apologize for being late,” you say, “But at this point I don’t think anyone is surprised.” The more awake students laugh, and you sling your bag onto your desk at the front of the room. “Let’s get started. Yoongi, you’re up first for workshop. Why don’t you stand up and read?”

Of all of your students, you think Yoongi is the most likely to pursue his career in creative writing.

He nods and stands. You can see his hands trembling as he clutches the paper.

When he sits back down after reading his poem, there’s a smattering of applause. “Very nice,” you say. “Now, who’d like to offer their feedback?”

~~~

Hours later, you dismiss your last class. You can’t wait to go home and tell Taehyung all about your day.

“So this one kid really decided the best move, instead of asking for an extension, was to plagiarize Twilight. Fucking Twilight!”

Taehyung laughs as he buttons up his shirt. “What did you tell her?”

“Ugh, I hate to report anyone for plagiarism, I told her to write something new and turn it in for half credit.”

“No wonder your students love you. I think you’re personally responsible for all of the creative writing majors on campus.”

You finish zipping up your dress. “Probably. Let’s get going, yeah?”

“Your wish, my command,” Taehyung says, gallantly bowing you out the door. You giggle as he opens the passenger side door for you. “For real, Y/n, want to get away for a weekend to celebrate? This is a nationally recognized award!”

“Hm…” you pretend to think. “Maybe we could go somewhere warm and sunny, with lots of beaches.”

Taehyung interlaces his fingers with yours, lifts your hand to his mouth, and kisses your palm. “Whatever you want. Christmas is coming up, maybe we can travel somewhere for the winter.”

You smile and look out of the window as Taehyung begins the drive. The ceremony is being held at a hotel twenty minutes away. And in a few weeks, you’ll be spending Christmas with the love of your life somewhere warm.

Under the twinkling night sky, everything feels so peaceful. Suddenly, you see a flash of light overhead. “Tae! A shooting star! Look-”

BANG. You hear the sound of crunching metal, feel a violent jerk, and everything goes dark.

~~~

“When she wakes up, start her on 20 milligrams of morphine. If her blood pressure is still low, go ahead and add saline to the IV. She shouldn’t need a transfusion unless anything opens up again.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Doctor. Are you in the hospital, then? Was there an accident? “Ugh…” You blink hard in the blinding light. You’re woozy, and your mouth tastes like copper.

“Y/n! Doctor, she’s awake!” You hear a familiar voice, and feel a hand grip your own.

“M-Mom?”

“Y/n. Thank heavens, you’re awake.” Your mom’s voice is strained and thick, as though she’s been crying. When your eyes finally focus on her, she’s sniffling, and her eyes are bloodshot. She’s wearing a formal black dress – did she come straight from the ceremony?

“What happened?” You croak.

“You were in an accident,” your mom says, her voice breaking. “A bad one. We weren’t sure if you would make it.”

You wince. That doesn’t make sense, and the cost of a hospital stay isn’t in your budget. “Where’s Taehyung?”

Your mother is silent for a moment too long, and you feel your chest grow tight. “Mom, where is Taehyung? He was in the car with me!”

“He… he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry,” your mom whispers. “The doctors did everything they could.”

No. “You’re lying.” Of course she is, she has to be, he’s your husband, he can’t be gone. “Don’t lie. He’s fine.”

“Y/n, baby…”

“No!” You weakly pull your hand from her grip. Angry tears form and begin to spill down your swollen, tender cheeks. “You’re lying!” Please, you beg inside your head, please be lying. Not Taehyung. He’s healthy, strong, smart, he has to be fine.

You can see unshed tears shining in your mother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t going that fast,” you say desperately. “It can’t have been bad.”

“You broke a leg and a rib, fractured your collarbone, and punctured your lung,” Your mother says quietly. “They said you were lucky to have no brain damage.”

You sit back, stunned. It’s true, you’re wrapped in bandages and the parts of your skin that you can see are black and blue. When you lift the blanket, you can see a small clear tube protruding from your chest. Still, it’s impossible. You had only been driving for a few minutes. “What happened? The accident?”

“I-It was a hit-and-run,” your mother responds shakily. “They T-boned your car and drove away. There were witnesses, but no cameras and nobody got a license plate. They put out a notice for the car.”

You swallow. Despite your injuries, it seems like you’re unable to feel anything at all. Please, no…

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Y/n?” You look up and through the dark fog in your head you feel a tinge of shock.

Standing in front of you, wearing blue scrubs and a mask, is… your neighbor.

“Jimin?”

Jimin nods. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I just need to adjust your IV – are you in pain?”

“No- yes.” As soon as the word escapes your mouth, feeling spills back into your body. Fuck. Suddenly you can’t breathe, your chest feels like it’s on fire, and your leg… “It hurts really badly.”

“Let me increase the morphine dosage.” He steps towards the machines and IV to which you’re hooked up and fiddles with some buttons.

Your heart feels as though it’s stopped on Taehyung. You refuse to believe it, and so you refuse to grieve. “I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you say to Jimin. Your voice sounds like a robotic copy of itself. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your mother glancing at you with worry.

“I’m not, I’m a nurse,” he replies.

“You take good care of her, you hear?” Your mom says to Jimin, clearly understanding your silent signal not to bring up Taehyung. She was lying – he has to be fine.

Jimin nods firmly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am. She’ll be up and about soon, but for now she needs rest.”

As your mom rises slowly from her chair beside your bed, she grasps Jimin’s hand in hers. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“I will.”

Once your mom leaves, your eyelids feel heavy. Your brain is foggy with distorted thoughts of Taehyung. Why can’t you remember anything? “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning,” Jimin supplies.

That surprises you. “It’s been hours.”

“It has.” “Do you know what happened to the awards ceremony?”

“The… what?”

Of course he doesn’t. Why should he? You sink as far as you can into your pillow, wishing only that it would suffocate you. It feels like there’s an all-consuming black hole in your chest, clawing at every part of you. Taehyung. Taehyung. Taehyung.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Jimin says gravely. “I met him several times. He was a very kind man.”

“He’s not gone,” you reply stubbornly. He can’t be. “I just need to get better and get home.” Tae will be there.

Jimin pauses. “We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you.”

“The doctor will be back in soon,” Jimin adds. “I can give you something to help you sleep after.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” After everything that’s happened, you don’t think you can ever sleep again. At least, not until you’re with Taehyung. Surely, the doctor will be able to tell you the truth.

The doctor comes in, a middle-aged Black woman who introduces herself as Dr. Greene. She walks you through your injuries and the path to recovery. “Luckily, they could have been a lot worse,” she says, eyeing your chart appreciatively. “You should be discharged in two weeks, give or take. After that, it’ll be a while still with your leg in a cast. You’ll have to come back for more check-ups. And as soon as your lung heals, we want you to start physical therapy to counteract all the bed rest. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Where is my husband?” You ask desperately. Behind Dr. Greene, you see Jimin’s face has turned stony. “He was in the car with me, his name is Kim Taehyung–”

“Your husband has passed away,” the doctor says simply, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

At last, with this authority figure having sealed his fate, you allow yourself to cry for Taehyung. Loud, animalistic sobs tear from your chest until your abused ribs and lungs can’t support you anymore and you collapse, screaming silently into hands that hurt to lift.

“Y/n…”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair! It should have been me.” The two of you were only on your way to the dinner because of you. It’s your fault. Your fault. Your fault. “It should have been me!”

You feel fingertips lightly touch your aching shoulder. From his earlier position near the doorway, Jimin is suddenly right next to you. “No, it shouldn’t have. And it’s not your fault, Y/n,” he says.

“Grief is natural and necessary, really, for the healing process,” Dr. Greene adds. “But Nurse Jimin is right, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” She looked back at her chart. “Jimin, you’re on call for the night, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Keep an eye on her pain levels. Y/n, if you’re uncomfortable or need anything during the night, press this button and Jimin will come check in on you, alright?”

You nod numbly. You don’t care. You hope you do die during the night, so you can at least be with Taehyung.

Jimin leaves and returns in what feels like both an hour and two seconds, holding a clear bag full of liquid and a bottle of pills.

“Take one of these to help you sleep. This is for your blood pressure – it’s still low – and we’ve added more morphine.”

You simply hold out your hand for the bottle, shake out a pill, and swallow it down without water. Why would you need water when the love of your life is gone?

“Remember, press the button if you need anything,” Jimin says. “I’ll be right here for you.”

“Mm.” You turn over as much as you comfortably can and almost immediately fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

If only you were so lucky.

The crash. The moment of the shooting star. Over and over and over again.

“Y/n! Come on, baby, wake up!” You can’t see anything, but you can hear his voice. “They’ll be here soon, you have to hang on for me, okay?”

“Help! Somebody help! No, she’s worse than me, hurry up!”

“Miss? Can you hear me?”

“Shit, he’s coding!”

“Y/n?” You feel yourself being gently shaken, and still half-dreaming, your body gives a great shudder from the accident. “I’m sorry to wake you. I just need to take your vitals.”

“Blue,” you reply, barely able to form the word. You saw it. “The car was blue.”

When you look up, you realize that it’s not Jimin, but a nurse you’ve never seen before. She pauses for a moment, clearly perplexed, before she blinks.

“Oh! You were in a car accident?”

“The car was blue,” you continue, scared to lose the thought. You’re a professor of writing at a top university, you should be able to express yourself more fluently. But your words seem to escape you before you can capture them. “License 7-H-L.”

“Oh, my… the nurse looks around before grabbing a pen clipped to her scrubs and scribbling the numbers onto a notepad beside you. “You’re a regular detective!”

“Where’s Jimin?” You ask. You don’t know this new nurse, but at least you trust Jimin.

“Oh, his shift ended,” she replies. “He’ll be back tonight! In the meantime, can you tell me how you feel?”

“I’m… dizzy. My heart…” You can hear it pounding hard in your ears, far too quickly, and leaving you lightheaded. Your whole body hurts, centralized in your leg and chest, far worse than last night.

“Your blood pressure must have gone back to normal, let me get that saline off for you. How’s the pain? Your morphine should have worn off by now.”

You wince. “Bad.”

“Okay, I’ll adjust that.” The nurse fiddles with your IV before turning back to you. “I think your mother will be here soon. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually… can you tell her not to come?” A wave of guilt tries to wash over you, but it’s overpowered by the darkness already inside. “I just want to sleep today. She shouldn’t bother.” You pause. “I don’t want any visitors.” “Ah- sure thing, whatever you’d like,” the nurse chirps hesitantly. “Oh, and… what happened to your hair?”

“What do you mean?”

The nurse points. “You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident. Hey, maybe when you get out you can try a new style!”

“Yeah, maybe.” You lay back down and stare at the ceiling, wishing only that it would fall apart and crush you. What’s the point of anything without Taehyung? But… what about your students, your classes?

The day passes in a blur, and your intermittent napping keeps you barely aware of your surroundings. You don’t dream of the crash again – it’s a blessing, but at the same time you wish you could remember the rest of the license plate. You finally awaken for real once dusk has settled on the hospital.

You press the button, and immediately Jimin is in your room. “What can I do for you, Y/n?”

You take a deep breath. “Can you please bring me a pad of paper and a pencil?” You were a teenager when your father passed away, and writing was the only thing that saved you then. Perhaps it will be your healing salve now.

“Sure, there’s paper right-” Jimin pauses beside your bed before handing you the pad of paper. “Here, sorry. And you can use one of my pens. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy,” you reply. You’re surprised by how weak your grip on the pencil feels. “Numb. It hurts, but…”

“I’ll make a note for the doctor. Don’t worry, I promised your mom that I’d help you get better. Your lung should be healing soon,” Jimin says. “But I need to change the bandages on your chest tube, if that’s okay?” “Yeah.” You forgot it was there, the clear tube coming out of your chest. It’s held in place with bandages, which Jimin carefully removes before cleaning off your skin and placing new ones down. He’s wearing a silver locket that you’ve never noticed before. It suits him, shining against his skin.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes taking your vitals.

“I’m happy to help.”

The next week passes in a blur; between crying fits for Taehyung, assuring your mother that you’re alright, scribbling down everything on your mind, and forcing yourself to sleep simply to avoid the reality of waking hours, you barely have a second to consider your own healing process.

It isn’t until Dr. Greene beams at you that you register: physically, you’re feeling a lot better, and after a week of bed rest and god awful depression, you’re ready to try hobbling around.

“Looks like you might actually get out a few days early,” Dr. Greene says. “We’ll be able to remove that chest tube tonight.” Beside you, your mother begins crying with relief.

“Wonderful.” It’s still hard to smile, but you manage a weak attempt. Later that day, you hear a bit of commotion in the hallway, and soon the nurse brings in a huge basket of cards, flowers, and stuffed animals.

“Woah… what’s all this?” With effort, you sit up and take the offered basket. The sweet smell of the flowers is a welcome change to the cold sanitation of the hospital.

“From your students!” The nurse says happily. “Some even sent you books!”

“Aww, they’re sweet.” You flip through one of the books and notice that all your advisees have signed the title page and scribbled well-wishes in the margins of the chapters. Their kindness and love sparks your first real smile since the accident.

You spend the day reading, counting down the hours until your chest tube is removed. When you’re finally wheeled to the OR and numbed up so they can sew the hole in your chest shut, you feel relief. Your leg is still in a cast, but at least your body is fighting for you.

That night, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel a painful tugging on your chest, right where your stitches are. “Mm?” You blink sleepily and see Jimin’s silhouette standing over you.

“Ah, Y/n. I’m sanitizing your wound so it heals well, don’t mind me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little sore,” you reply honestly. “It’s not too bad, though.” “Let me fix that for you.” You can see Jimin’s dark figure change something on your IV. “That’ll help you feel better.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, feeling sleep begin to overtake you.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/n.” That night, your dreams are choppy and chaotic. At one point, you dream that your body is on fire; at another, you’re back in the accident but instead of Taehyung, it’s Jimin. The sun has barely risen before you bolt upwards. “Gah!” Your throat is burning, dry, painful – it feels like you’ve swallowed sand.

It must be extra early, because Jimin is still there. He rushes to your bedside. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“I- who are you? I need… water…” you croak, your vision swimming before you. You don’t know who this man is, and you don’t know where you are. You can vaguely feel yourself falling backwards.

“Okay, let me get you some- wait, Y/n!”

~~~

You awaken with Jimin, Dr. Greene, and another nurse standing over you. Packed in bed beside you are several ice packs. Even so, you feel your body sweating.

“What… happened?” You manage. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

“You woke up with a bad fever. It’s lucky Jimin thought fast and worked to cool you down.” Dr. Greene said. “We’ll have to keep you monitored for longer than we anticipated.”

“W-Why do I have a fever?”

Dr. Greene’s brows knit together. “I… I’m not sure. We’ll keep an eye on you for the next couple of days and see if anything changes.”

Your fever goes up and down throughout the day, occasionally spiking dangerously enough that the monitors around you begin to beep in alarm. Around noon, Jimin comes in with water and a bottle of pills. He’s wearing a lopsided Santa hat along with his scrubs.

“Merry almost-Christmas. Here, take two for the fever.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask weakly. Even in your fever-addled mind, you remember he only comes at night.

“My shift changed. You need more urgent care anyways, and I volunteered.”

You swallow down the pills and nod. “Thanks.”

“Your bruises have improved,” Jimin observes, lightly touching your face.

“I guess. Fuck.” You feel the sudden urge to douse yourself in cold water. “I just want to get out of here.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “Have they found the car that hit you?”

“How would I know?” You feel a wave of dizziness hit you, likely brought on by a heartbeat that never seems to slow down. “Jimin, please…” Save me.

“We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow,” Jimin says. “For now, you should stay awake. What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh, green.”

“Favorite food?” You can barely think. “Sushi.”

Jimin grins. “Favorite neighbor?”

You try to summon a chuckle. “Whichever one is saving my life.”

“Fantastic. I’ll see you later tonight. Your mother should be in here soon – let me adjust your pain meds, we kept you off of them from the fever but they might just help.”

The night feels eternal; you can’t sleep a wink, and your mother stays with you the whole night. Your fever continues to climb and although at first your breathing is rapid to cool you down, by the time the sun rises it feels as though your lungs have stopped working entirely. You don’t know if that’s normal for a fever.

“Doctor!” Your mother calls for what feels like the thousandth time.

Dr. Greene hurries into the room, Jimin right behind her. “Is it her fever?”

“No, it’s…” Your mother points wordlessly at your hands. You can’t see what she’s talking about, but when you raise your hands you see your fingertips are blue. You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You don’t care. Everything is fuzzy, so fuzzy… the monitors are beeping again, but you can barely hear them. You’re gasping for air now, choking on nothing. You can’t breathe.

“Doctor Greene,” Jimin says loudly, “I think she’s overdosing.”

“Lord, you may be right. Get the Narcan!”

Jimin darts out of the room and returns just as your eyes begin to flutter closed. Taehyung…

~~~

There’s a cliff. Taehyung is there, you know it. You just need to jump. The moment you start walking, though, it’s almost as if you’re being pulled away from the edge. No! You open your eyes. Has it been minutes? Days?

“Dear god,” your mother says breathlessly. “She’s awake.”

“How on earth…?” Dr. Greene wonders, wiping her forehead. “Jimin, props to you for your quick thinking. But an overdose? How?”

“Doctor, it’s possible that with her weakness and weight loss, plus the fact that we held off the morphine for several days, an average dose might have caused her to OD.” Jimin suggests. His voice seems to carry more authority than even Dr. Greene’s.

“Yes, perhaps… but the fever?”

“Hm…” Jimin reaches forward and prods at the stitches on your chest. You immediately flinch, your raspy voice yelping in pain. “An infection. Possibly blood poisoning.”

“You know, you really might be right,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “It’s not impossible. Okay, we’ll start you on an antibacterial and switch to lower-grade painkillers.” With this note, Dr. Greene and Jimin file out, leaving you with your mother.

“Momma, did you ever find the car?” You ask, gripping her hand urgently. The owner of that car killed your husband; you want them brought to justice.

“No, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“What about the license plate?”

“Well, none of the witnesses saw it-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I- the nurse wrote it down. On…” you point to the notepad beside you. “The first page.”

Your mother picks up the abused pad of paper, filled with random journal entries and doodles, and flips to the front. “Y/n, there’s nothing here. It’s blank. Maybe you dreamed it?”

“What? No.” You’re sure that the nurse wrote it down for you. “Check on the floor.”

After a brief but thorough search, the paper doesn’t turn up. What had happened? You can’t possibly remember the partial plate now. Shit. And even so, it was a literal fever dream – you could have made the numbers up.

“Y/n, I’m going to go for an early Christmas dinner at Aunt Ella’s, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sure, mom.” She’s barely slept, after all.

The next several days pass and you gradually begin to recover. The lab tests confirmed your blood poisoning, and you feel more grateful than ever that Jimin managed to catch it early – it could have killed you. It’s now been more than two weeks since the accident, and finally the doctor tells you that you’ll be ready to go home soon. As Christmas approaches, you’ve heard holiday music float through the air and bows and wreaths appear in your hospital room and down the hall. Even with the holiday cheer, the loss of the license plate weighs heavy on your mind.

“Merry Christmas Eve! Time to get up and try walking around!” The afternoon nurse says cheerfully as she helps you out of bed. With your heavy green cast making your leg feel detached, you clunk around while holding the nurse’s arm. You near the window, which overlooks a parking lot decorated with dirty snow, and gaze down onto the cars. Can you ever feel safe in a car again?

“Which one’s yours?” You ask the nurse absentmindedly, suddenly struck by another bolt of grief. Her life is normal. She has a car and goes to work.

“That white one right there next to the blue Prius,” she replies, pointing. You mindlessly follow her finger, when suddenly –

Blue. You clutch at your chest and stumble backwards, nearly falling if she hadn’t caught you. “That’s…” No, it can’t be. But in your heart and deep, deep in your memory… “Can you read the plate number on that blue car next to yours?”

“Uh, it’s a little too far away,” she replies, squinting. “I think it’s Jimin,’s though, I always see him pulling in just as my shift is over.”

Jimin. “Does it look dented at all?” You manage. “His car?”

“Ah… a little? I’m not sure.”

Jimin does have a blue Prius, you know that from seeing it in his driveway every day. So why, today, did the thought strike you so violently?

“You know, I think I’m tired. I’m going to lay down.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want some water or to go to the bathroom?”

“No. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” The nurse looks worried, but leaves you settled back in your bed. Night falls quickly and you hear a knock on the door. Jimin lets himself in, a bottle of pills in his hand.

“Hey, I heard you’ll be getting discharged soon,” he says cheerfully. He’s still wearing the Santa hat.

Blue. “Yeah, hopefully.”

“Awesome. Well, you need to take these,” he says, shaking two pills from the bottle in his hand and handing them to you.”

“What are they for?”

“They’ll help you sleep and let your blood vessels dilate to regulate your blood pressure.”

“Mm.” You wash them down with his offered water. Almost as soon as you swallow, you feel your body rebel against you – you lean over and vomit onto the floor. The smell makes you gag and you feel everything you’ve eaten come up a second time, the stomach acid burning your throat.

“What- what did you give-” you can’t finish your sentence as your stomach convulses again. Jimin rushes over to you with a bucket and you lean into it, retching. You continue dry heaving long after your body is completely emptied, while Jimin rubs your back reassuringly. “G-get the doctor,” you croak.

“Are you going to be okay alone-?” “Yes. Please, just…” your body shivers as he gets up and leaves. What did he give you? You’re doubtless that those pills caused your vomiting. Just the thought sends you back to your bucket, although you’ve no more left to give.

“What on earth happened?” Dr. Greene says, rushing in. Jimin is close behind her.

“He gave me pills…” you gasp as your body tries to vomit again. The muscle contractions leave you feeling boneless. “They made me throw up.”

“You’ve got no known allergies on file…” Dr. Greene says, consulting a chart by your bed. “Jimin, what did you give her?”

Jimin produces a bottle clearly labelled DOXEPINE. “Just to help her sleep, she was asking for something earlier.”

Your heart drops. “That’s not-” you’re interrupted by another gagging fit. You want to scream at your body that there’s nothing left, but you can barely speak. “Not the same-” fuck.

“She must have a sensitivity to the Doxepine,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “Jimin, make sure she stays hydrated. If she keeps throwing up we’ll need to keep her longer for observation.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Ngh… no…” Dr. Greene leaves before you can tell her that that wasn’t the same pill bottle.

“Here, drink this,” Jimin says, offering you a bottle of water.

“What did you give to me?” You ask, panting. As soon as the water touches your tongue you reach for the bucket, your body rejecting it immediately.

Jimin blinks innocently. “Sleeping pills.”

“Fuck off, that wasn’t the… same bottle.”

“Y/n, you’re sick and grieving, it’s understandable that your eyes are playing tricks on you-”

“No. You… poisoned me!” You summon what strength you have left and swipe at the nurse, who’s now leaning over you. Your fingers catch the silver chain around his neck, and the motion knocks the locket open.

Fluttering out of the locket and onto your bandaged chest is… hair?

No, not hair. Your hair. The color, and texture… it’s exactly the same.

You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident, the nurse had said.

Not from the accident. Almost in slow motion, your eyes travel up to meet Jimin’s.

“Y/n, you’re acting erratic.” As if nothing happened, he plucks your hair from the bed, tucks it back into the locket, and straightens his Santa hat. “I’ll have to tell the doctor to consider sedatives. Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

“No-” Your stomach contracts once more and by the time you look up, gasping for breath, he’s gone.

You spend another sleepless night in the hospital, growing more paranoid by the minute. You refuse to eat or drink anything you’re given – you’re still nauseous, and what if it’s full of sedatives?

When dawn breaks on Christmas Day, you’ve never felt less cheer. You’re concerned about Jimin; the car is surely a coincidence, but the hair? And the pills?

“Y/n?” Dr. Greene knocks on the door. “Merry Christmas. How are you feeling?”

“I want to get out of here,” you respond immediately.

Dr. Greene smiles. “We’ll see how you do moving around today. How’s your nausea?”

“Better,” you lie. Anything to leave. You can handle nausea at home.

“Wonderful. Well, Nurse Jimin will be taking care of you today, since your other nurses are off duty. Press the button if you need anything.”

You nod, shivering. Should you tell Dr. Greene? Before you can consider it, though, she’s left the room.

Hours later, Jimin pops his head in, his Santa hat crooked. The locket is still swinging from his neck.

“Hey! Dr. Greene said if you’re doing well by the end of the day, you might be discharged for tomorrow!”

You stare at him. Can he really pretend nothing is wrong? “Great.”

“Let’s get you up and walking around.” Jimin offers you his arm. At first you don’t want to take it, but your legs are too weak on your own. He slowly leads you out of your room and down the hall before circling back. You pass another window overlooking the parking lot and there, in the same spot, is the blue car. From this window, you can see much better.

“Which car’s yours?” you ask quietly.

“That blue Prius next to the white one,” he says cheerfully, pointing.

Finally, when you squint you can read the license plate: 7HLC946.

7HL. Your body stiffens. It’s the same car. Then, that means… you swivel slowly until you’re staring at Jimin, who’s still looking out of the window. He killed your husband.

He leads you back to your room. You feel frozen, and not from the wintertime. When you go inside, you hear a soft click. Your eyes widen. He locked the door.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly from behind you.

“F-fine. Perfect,” you reply, your voice shaking.

“You know, you really have to stop getting yourself in trouble,” he says, strolling to the bed and smoothing down your sheets. Your eyes dart to the locked door. If you made a break for it with your cast, he could still beat you to it. “Every time you’re supposed to get discharged, something happens, and then who has to save you?”

“I’ve recovered,” you say firmly. Is it an ego thing? He wants credit for doing his job?

“Before, you always had your husband to save you,” Jimin says, standing. His eyes are drilling holes into you. “Do you know why he’d always see you off at the door?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” “It’s so I couldn’t even look at you. He was always around, but not this time. And this time it was me that saved your life.” Jimin is advancing now, still smiling serenely. Your heart pounding, you back away, your cast clunking against the floor.

“It was you,” you whisper when your back hits the window. “Your car. You hit us.”

“Almost gave me a heart attack when I saw you remembered my plate,” he says now, examining his nails. “Lucky I saw it before your mother did. How is she, by the way?”

“You… you killed my husband!” Your scream is more animal than human when it rips from your throat. You’re fully prepared to leap at Jimin and take the life he took from Taehyung when he pulls out a syringe.

“Shhh…” he says, stepping forward. “What did I say about sedation?”

Your blood runs cold. You don’t want to know what’s in the syringe, or what he’d do to you if he injected you with it.

Caught between him and the window, you freeze. You have to get away from him. You turn around and swing your heavy cast at the window.

With a painful CRASH, the glass shatters. Shards fly everywhere, several of them catching and slicing your skin. You hear commotion outside and below as you shoot for the window and try to grab onto the windowsill. You nearly sob when the glass in your grip breaks off the windowsill. Almost… just like your dream of the cliff, though, you’re dragged back from the escape. Jimin locks one arm around your neck and pulls you away from the window.

You feel a sharp prick in your arm and, seconds later, your muscles seem to melt. If Jimin weren’t supporting your weight you would have fallen. Shit. What did he do to you?

“It’s for your own good, my love,” he says, carrying you to the bed and tucking the blankets in around you. Your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth; you can’t speak, and you can barely move your arms.

There’s a loud banging on the door. “Y/n! Are you alright?”

“One second,”Jimin says to you before striding to the door and opening it.

“Jimin! What happened?” The voice belongs to a doctor you don’t recognize.

“Hey, Dr. Kim. Y/n started being combative and went for the window. Luckily, I got her calmed down and back into bed.”

Help. Your vocal chords won’t respond to you. “Hhe…”

“Goodness. We should get her moved out while the window is being repaired.” “I agree, but she did just fall asleep and she hasn’t slept in a while. I suggest giving her an hour.”

“Alright, well, please keep an eye on her.”

“Sure thing, Doctor.” Jimin shuts the door and locks eyes with you.

“I’ve waited for you for a while, you know,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. His position pins down your left arm, but your right is still free. If only you could move it. “You never got sick, or hurt. I checked. You never even came to visit.” Jimin continues smiling, but his eyes are cold. “That wasn’t very nice. It’s your fault that I had to make you come visit.”

“Stuh… you,” you gasp, forcing your head to clear. “Psy…” Let me go, you want to scream. You’re straining with the effort just to lift your head.

“I know, I know, why didn’t I just talk to you at your house? Well, your guardian was always there. But here, I’m in control. And I’m the one that can save you.”

You can sense feeling returning to your arms. If he keeps talking, it might give you more time to recover from your paralysis. Luckily, Jimin seems so relieved that he can finally tell you everything that he doesn’t seem close to shutting up.

“Do you know how many times your mother has thanked me for saving your life? How Dr. Greene said I was her favorite nurse?” Jimin caresses your cheek, becoming more animated as he speaks. “Even you, Y/n, you called me your angel.”

You try to bite him when his hand gets close, but your jaw muscles are slack. C’mon…

“And you’re right, I am your angel. I’m your guardian angel, and I’ll always keep you safe.” You can almost lift your hand. At his words, he leans in to kiss your forehead and with enormous effort, you use the same moment to lift and swipe your bloody hand, still gripping the jagged glass from the window, at him. The glass catches Jimin right in the neck and he gasps and sputters, pressing a hand to his throat as bright red blood gushes from the wound, spattering you and staining the bed. Meanwhile, you collapse, your strength entirely spent.

Jimin staggers upright, hand outstretched towards you. When he tries to speak, his voice is a mere gurgle.

“Y/n- you… no…” with that, he falls to the floor. You see him try and fail to rise again before Jimin sighs and is still at last.

How did you wind up here?

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fits, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

#yandere society #yandere jimin #jimin #bts #bangtan #nurse!jimin #jimin x reader #park jimin #yandere jimin fic #yandere!bts #yandere!jimin

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bunni-teeth81 · 4 years ago

Text

Slender bros rewritten by me

Cause I want character development

(This is mostly Offender, trender, and Splendor. Also if you like Slendey/slender dad you might not wanna read this cause I do not make him a good guy in the slightest)

Possible tw for mention sexual assault, pedolophilia, necrophilia, and zoophilia!

To start off, Offender is not a rapist, he isn’t a pedo, and he doesn’t fuck animals

He doesn’t do anything without consent, plain and simple. Him being all those things was a rumor started by someone he fucked in the past who got caught cheating. They said Offender forced them and the rumors have escalated since with his legend.

He actively avoids children cause he doesn’t like them. So he literally couldn’t be a pedo.

He doesn’t hate kids, he just prefers to not be around them.

He won’t fuck someone with kids unless the kids are out of the house and somewhere safe.

He’s wary about fucking 18 and 19 year olds and usually doesn’t

Occasionally if he sees a kid sad while he’s on a walk or whatever he’ll give them some daisies or something. Though they kinda just appear near the kid. He doesn’t actually go near them.

Though he will fuck old people. He has no problem with that. But he will go gentler cause they’re frail

He likes animals, but not like that. Like.. ew

He has a kind of respect for the dead, even people he’s killed to eat, so he’d never do that. Also it goes back to the consent thing. They can’t consent so he ain’t gonna fuck them.

He’s pansexual.

He’s very kinky, obviously. He’s willing to do pretty much anything in bed

He prefers to top but he has no problem being pegged-

Has tried every drug there is.

Usually just sticks to weed, alcohol, crack, shrooms, and the occasional LSD

Bath salts fucked him up majorly and he will never do them again.

He works for trender, who has a whole ass company (will be touched on later)

He helps trender make clothes for more alt styles (punk, grunge, goth, emo, all that good stuff) and he helps with lingerie (masc and fem. trender makes both. Offender tests it out and gives feedback on what could be added or changed)

He also finds models for Trender (there’s really no qualifications to be a model, you kinda just have to want to be one. Trender, his assistants, and other models will help fill new models in. And they never have to wear something they don’t want or pose a way that makes them uncomfortable. also theres do discrimination when it comes to models, any one of any race, body type, gender (or lack there of), sexuality, and age to an extent (depending on the clothes being modeled and (if parent permission is needed if they get it)) are welcome)

He also does side jobs like art (he does realistic art) plays piano or violin for songs, every so often he’ll join a strip club. Definitely has an OF.

He learned piano from his dad. Their dad made them all learn piano. His dad was very against him learning violin but his mother let him learn it (she knew how to play)

Their parents kept them pretty reserved from the rest of the world (particularly humans) for safety reasons. The brothers didn’t find out they were the only ones of their kind till they were like teens and went hunting for the first time.

Their parents suddenly disappeared when they were teens. They still haven’t found them and have no idea what happened to them.

Zalgo killed them cause the dad was constantly fighting him, so was the mom but less so.

There were originally 5 brothers, but one got murdered (It was Tenderman. Who wouldve been the oldest, then slender, offender and trender are twins, then splendor)

They don’t know how tender was murdered. All they know is they can be murdered. They still haven’t figured out how tho.

They do know that they can regenerate any part of their body (teeth and nails grow back almost instantly, limbs take longer, they can just put their head where it should be and the bone, muscle, skin, tissue and all that will pull back together, skin can either regenerate in about an hour or two or a couple days depending on the size of the wound. Their organs can regenerate but it takes like a month.)

Drugs don’t effect them the same way they do us. Our massive hangovers that put us out of commission is what happens after they do LSD. A regular hangover for us is what happens when they do coke or a drink shit ton of alcohol.

Offender has the highest tolerance, then it’s trender, splendor, and Slender has the lowest cause he hasn’t done drugs.

Splendor has tried them but doesn’t like doing them. He doesn’t drink much either.

Trender will do them every so often, usually with Offender. He either drinks or smokes a blunt usually. Shrooms are for special occasions, and LSD gives him major anxiety so he doesn’t do it.

Trender and Offender were the only ones to try bath salts. They don’t know what happened. Splendor says they disappeared for a month and murdered a shit ton of people. They almost got caught. And at some point Offender ate a whole ass headstone and took a chunk out of a mausoleum

Slender hunts whenever the hell he wants, he doesn’t care about being caught

Offender hunts every couple of months or so

Trender hunts about 2 times a year. He spreads out his food pretty evenly

Splendor hates hunting and usually Offender or Trender will do it for them. They’ll maybe hunt once a year.

Human food to them is like sweets to us. They can’t live off it but it’ll keep them from starving. If they don’t eat human for about 3-4 years they’ll start to starve, but the process is slow and would probably take a while to actually kill them

Trender, Splendor, and Offender try not to get caught or make suspicions rise. They just wanna live their lives.

The amount of people they consume and how long they stay in their human form determines their power levels.

Slender is the most powerful, then Splendor, Offender, and Trender is the least powerful (but they’re all still mega powerful)

Slender is never in his human form and consumes humans whenever he wants so he has nothing holding back his power

Splendor may not eat human much but they’re rarely ever in his human form. And if they are it’s not for more than an hour usually

Offender is in his human form about 50% of the time. He’s in his normal form at home or hunting and any other time he’s human so-

Trender is in his human form like 90% of the time since he spends most of his time at work (he’s a workaholic to the highest extent. When it becomes really bad is when Offender will step in and be like “hey let’s grab a drink and chill out”)

Offender and Slender’s relationship is like Raph and Leo’s from tmnt if their relationship was genuine hatred and violent

Splendor tries to med their relationship and makes times where they all hang out and have dinner together but to no avail

This is the only time Slender can be seen in his human form. He doesn’t want to go but for some reason he does

Slender is stuck in his ways

Their dad hated humans with a passion, and Slender looked up to their father and wanted to be exactly like him so the hatred rubbed off

Slender blames humans for his parents disappearing and Tender’s death. Tender was the brother he bonded with the most

Splendor used to be a really emotional kid and their father hated that so now they bottle up everything

Their mother tried to help as best she could

V support

Trender’s company is a fashion company that produces just about everything

And the sizes go up to 4 or 5 x

And the prices are reasonable and don’t go up with the size

Trender really doesn’t give to shits about money. If he could he’d just give everything he makes away but unfortunately he needs some money to produce what he makes.

He makes kids clothing, teens clothing, adults clothing in every aesthetic you can think of. Rarely will you see basic shit from him

He makes jewelry (real and fake (for the kiddies) and specifies very obviously which is which so someone doesn’t accidentally buy the wrong one)

He makes shoes!

His prices are usually around 10-25 dollars for clothing, sometimes 30 if it’s a specific brand (like Gorillaz or something. He doesn’t work with brands like Victoria secret, brands that have sweat shops, things like that. He doesn’t support them whatsoever)

His business is huge but he always listens to the people and tries to improve. And all his products are made ethically. He tries in every way possible to produce good products without polluting the earth more

Splendor usually only hangs around babies-young adults. They help them through rough home lives, trauma, and helps them find joy. They do everything they can to make them feel better

Splendor is the one who takes care of Sally. And they feels incredibly guilty for not being able to stop what happened to her, or punish her uncle himself.

Animals and mystical creatures are drawn to them and their home. They go to it for shelter and safety, as well as some food. But because Splendor isn’t always there they have a nymph friend there to look after everything.

Slenderman is the only one with proxies

Splendor is demisexual and bi, leaning towards men

Trender is queer and demisexual/demiromantic

Slender doesn’t love anything. Ever.

Trender gets annoyed easily but rarely ever gets pissed pissed (like original face altering pissed) if he does it’s either cause someone did something to his brothers or his models. And the unfortunate soul who did such will never be seen again afterwards

Offender doesn’t really get pissed pissed cause he usually either bottles it up or makes a joke out of it. It’s really only if something happens to his brothers that he gets pissed pissed.

Splendor has a list of people they wish they could rip to shreds. All of them parents. But they don’t want to do that to the children. They only intervenes and gets pissed pissed when the abuse gets physical or sexual. When it’s physically they’ll give the parent one change to never do that again. They’ll scare the shit outta them but won’t hurt them. If it’s sexual they kill them. Plain and simple.

Splendor started wearing pokadots to make the kids happy. Trender hates the suit but doesn’t comment usually

Splendor’s black hands are a skin disease their species can have. The skin is black and kinda ridged.

Splendor wears gloves because of their skin disease. the blood stains and they can’t get it out. Also they’re very insecure about their disease

Splendor put the bells on their tendrils so their movements didn’t scare the kids. They would always know when he was moving and where he was moving to so they’d be more comfortable. It was painful but it was worth it

Slender was in the woods when he was younger and almost got attacked by humans, but his mother came and saved him. (Her tendrils could be used as a shield)

Eden is not related to the brothers.

But eden looks a lot like their mother, so much so that Spendor legitimately mistakes her for their mother.

Slender’s human name is John (splendor had to come up with it on the spot leave them be)

Offender’s human name is Dimitri and I’ll die on this hill

Splendor’s human name is Faer

Trender’s human name is Quael

They can change their physical appearance to be fem or masc. like their body can change.

Slender doesn’t give two shits about pronouns

Offender doesn’t care but he/they/xem works

Trender goes by he/him

Splendor goes by they/them

(Im including Slenderwoman now so uh... 🤷)

Her hair is her tendrils.

She’s not part of the Slender bro family nor does she know they exist (though eventually she will. She’s way younger than them so)

✨Lesbian✨

Has met Slenderman tho. She hates him

Like genuinely hates his guts

She hates almost sharing a name with him.

Prefers to go by her human name; Eden

As long as you don’t use the pronouns he/him she doesn’t care.

She just kinda... appeared at the ripe age of 4? (She doesn’t remember anything past 4 so that’s what if feels like to her.)

Splendor is a switch and you can’t change my mind

Trender is also a switch

Slender doesn’t get any cause he’d kill them, purposely or not, being radioactive and all.

Eden is a top but can bottom is convinced

Offender, Splendor, Trender, and Eden can all control their radiation output so they can glitch tech when they chose and won’t hurt anyone

Slender could but doesn’t want to 🤷

They can be killed by their hearts getting impaled. The reason they don’t know that is because the skin will heal, but the heart can’t.

Offenderman’s real name isn’t Offenderman. That name was dubbed to him when people believed the rumors of him. But he kept it. He can’t really explain why but he did. And now he forgets it’s not his real name sometimes. Though he does prefer to go by Offender/Smexy.

Splendor calls him Offendy and he’s the only one allowed to do so

Trended has four arms, plus his tendrils. He can hide his second pair of arms like his tendrils but it takes energy

Getting their limbs/tendrils cut off only stings to them. They’re only in full on pain when their organs are involved

Eden’s blood has healing properties.

Someone can be turned immortal by being injected with one of the brother’s (or Eden’s) blood in large amounts. It’s extremely painful though.

Doing it slowly can ease the pain, so doing it over a week’s time nonstop will get the job done.

The injected person will be very weak after it for a couple days. A week. 2 weeks in worse cases.

The only one who’s done this is Splendor. They were dating a guy for a very long time and they told him about the procedure and he wanted it. After gaining back his strength he left Splendor. They’re not entirely over this even though it happened a long time ago.

They (mainly Offender and Trender) had to track him down and kill him. (Ya know, heart stuff)

That’s when they figured that’s probably how they could get murdered

#slenderverse #slenderman #offenderman #trenderman #splendorman #Creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #slenderverse headcanons #stars slenderverse

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nincompoopydoo · 4 years ago

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?

( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.

A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.

WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.

The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.

You turn your head away and focus on the road.

A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.

The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.

Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.

As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”

You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.

“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.

Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.

“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.

He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.

And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.

“Are you alright?”

It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.

Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.

You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.

Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.

“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”

Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.

He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”

Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.

Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.

You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”

“You’ve done a lot for him too.”

A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”

It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.

“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.

“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.

He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.

It’s from you.

Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.

A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.

He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.

Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.

He loves you.

Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.

But what do you really want, Bruce?

TAGLIST

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #alfred pennyworth #justice league

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vanderlindemorgans · 4 years ago

Text

Cross My Heart (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you're the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings include some graphic descriptions of blood and injuries and some alcohol consumption. Also I know nothing about Texas or horses.

Read on AO3 | Next Chapter | Masterlist

To say things hadn’t gone to plan would be a dramatic understatement. In his case, however, the results of his arrival in Cambodia had proved even more disastrous than he could have ever imagined. Though really, if he’d have stopped to think about it for even just a second, he would have seen that his plan was doomed to fail from the beginning.

Stalking through the busy streets of Dallas, Jack tried his best to keep as low of a profile as possible - you never knew who could be wandering the city searching for him, and after the stunt he pulled with Eggsy and Harry it could almost be guaranteed that he had some sort of warrant on his head. It was probably foolish of him to even come back to the United States in the first place, but really, where else did he have to go?

He didn’t entirely know where he was going now either. He couldn’t return home, as it would most likely be swarming with Statesman agents and the like hunting for him. He was almost certainly cast out of Statesman for his actions by now, so any former friends he could usually turn to in situations like this would be of no help at this point, considering everything that happened. For once in his life, Jack was well and truly alone. The acknowledgement of that fact itself did nothing to alleviate his anxieties, only doing more to further the ever growing void in his stomach. His eyes darted between the various passersby, none of them taking a single notice of him to his relief. He’d have expected to draw more attention to himself, in fact when he stopped to take a gander at his reflection in one of the shop windows he passed by he was almost stumped as to how he had managed to keep under the radar so well - you couldn’t much see it with the way he kept his head down, but upon closer inspection one could easily spot the large nasty gash of blood split across the side of his cheek, complimenting several different bruises that were forming underneath. His clothes were either torn from navigating through the thicket of the Cambodian jungle or scuffed from his confrontation with the two Kingsman agents. The only part of him that was still in almost perfect condition was his damned hat, surprisingly enough. In the most blatant use of the term, he looked like an absolute wreck. If he weren’t on edge from the constant vigilance of potentially running into one of his former colleagues, he might’ve laughed at himself over it.

Escaping from Eggsy and Harry had been the easy part - they’d left him tied up with his own lasso off to the side, but in all the confusion and spate of heroics in trying to distribute the antidote, they had neglected to keep any sort of watch on him. From there on, all it took was the simple slice of a knife he had hidden away in his back pocket and just like that, he’d slipped away into the shadows, running for his life through the thick and sweltering heat of the jungle. He’d wanted to retreat back to the plane he’d used to travel there in the first place but upon realising that Statesman could use radar to track him, he instead was forced to navigate himself to a nearby airfield used for moving cargo. After that it was just a matter of stowing away on one of the planes to ensure his arrival back in America, touching down in Dallas of all places. Jack was fully aware that he was lucky to have his life - if things had gone differently he’d have ended up with a bullet in his head or something much worse. For that much at least he was somewhat grateful for. Somewhat.

Almost as if by instinct, he drifted towards a bar in the downtown area of the city, stumbling in and being assaulted by the smoke-scented air that greeted him the moment he opened the door. It was by no means a classy place, yet he didn’t much care in that moment. Any place was better than aimlessly wandering the streets like a stray mutt. Striding through the crowds of patrons ranging from tipsy to drunk, he came up towards the bar and pulled a couple of notes from the inside of his jacket pocket. “A glass of whiskey, if ya will” he requested, sliding the notes over to the disinterested bartender on the other side of the counter. Some part of him felt stupid for ordering the drink of his agent namesake, but some side of him felt like reminiscing on old times a bit. In light of him going rogue, they’d most likely be passing on that codename to another agent. Probably to Ginger most likely. He caught himself sneering at the thought of her, a deep burning sense of hate starting to fester in him. He never did like her much.

Taking the glass of whiskey in his hand, he let the warm rush of liquid seep down his throat, feeling consumed by the blazing burn it left on his tongue. So this was how it all ended for him: hiding out in a dingy dive bar, drinking himself to death while he waited for the inevitable. His mind ran over all of his options from there on, running down the short list in less than a minute tops. He had no job, no friends, nowhere to run to, no-one to turn to.

Unless…

Jack’s mind began to nag on something, a faint memory from years long since passed starting to resurface, the face of someone he hadn’t thought of in what felt like forever creeping into his thoughts gradually. He was in Dallas, right? An idea began to form in his head, recalling days spent during the summer out on a ranch north of the city, of your warm smile and intoxicating eyes that one could get lost in. Waving over the bartender, he pondered on his idea further. Would you even want to see him after all this time? He remembered the way things ended between the both of you, the bitterness and bad blood that most likely still lingered.

It was possibly an idiotic idea to begin with. Hell, you might not even be in Dallas anymore: the last time the two of you spoke was at least a good seven years. But it was the only option he had left. Throwing his head back and downing the last remnants of whiskey in his glass, he threw down a couple of extra notes for the bartender on the counter and sauntered off, fully sure of his next course of action. Like it or not, you were his best chance he had of survival. He just hoped that you didn’t hate him too much to turn him away after everything that he put you through.

___

Wiping a line of sweat from your brow, you found yourself cursing the suffocating summer heat. After living there for so many years you thought you’d be used to it but every June through to August the intensity of the blistering sun always managed to take you by surprise. If only you could simply relax a little, lounge by the pool sipping on cognac and smelling of lilacs, without a single care in the world. Instead, you were out in the sun, tending to each of the horses that your ranch housed. You ran a horse riding ranch only a couple of hours outside Dallas, tucked away in the deep necks of the Texan countryside. It was originally your parents business, and you’d practically lived there your whole life. It wasn’t your original plan to take over the family business, some part of you angling for something more than life as a simple ranch hand but when both of them tragically passed only a few years before, you felt you owed it to them in a way to take up the mantle to keep things running as smoothly as possible. Some things didn’t take much adjustment in a way - you’d already known the procedure for cleaning the stables and tending to the horses like the back of your hand, and the inheritance money left behind had made it easier to pack everything up out of your small city apartment to move back home on such short notice. The thing that did take some getting used to was their absence. Stepping back into their well loved home, seeing the photos still hanging on the walls, the folded pages of the books your mother kept on her bedside that would never be opened again, the places where they should be but simply weren’t - that wrecked you more than anything you could ever imagine.

At first you didn’t even sleep inside the house - it was just too painful to see them everywhere around you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to remove the cheerful family photos from the walls, even if it was only for a little while. The first two months back home were spent in the backseat of your car, curled up with a blanket that you’d managed to drag out from the house. You tried to carry on with business as usual but everything felt bleak around you. Some part of you wanted to blame someone, anyone for what happened. Sometimes you’d felt tempted to blame yourself in some way. Eventually, things did become easier. The emotional weight started to lift, and you were able to get through the day without having to take five to pull yourself together. Nothing was the same as before, but the flow of your life started to settle and become something resembling normal again. And that, in your opinion, was probably the best way it could have turned out.

Doing a onceover the stables to check everything was in its correct place, you pulled the large doors closed and surveyed the landscape around you, taking in the stunning visual of the sun beginning to dip below the skyline, mellowing out into a lively and beautiful sunset. With the front gates locked and everything with the horses all taken care of, you trudged back up to the house at the centre of the property, your mind drifting to the glass of liquor you intended to pour yourself the minute you got inside. It had been a long day, full of tiresome frustrations and irritations. Being in the middle of July, your ranch saw frequent visitors, including kids who were out of school and being taken out of the city on a sort of day trip by their parents. That day in particular had involved a birthday party for some kid, and you’d been out there giving riding lessons to the whole group of them.

Usually lessons were conducted by one of your other employees but in cases of events you tended to take on more tasks yourself. To be perfectly blunt about it, the day had gone horribly. Surprisingly enough, the kids were fine, no, the real piece of work was the birthday boy's mother. She’d insisted on trying to take control of every single aspect of the event and was overly critical of every little thing you did, and was an all round exhausting person to deal with. When the party was finally over and everyone had packed up and left, you remembered breathing a huge sigh of relief and thinking “thank fuck, she’s gone”.

Twisting open the front door to your house, you tossed your keys off to the side and immediately set off in search of something to drink. Grazing your fingertips along the refined wooden edges of your liquor cabinet, you pulled on the handles and reached your hand in to select a bottle. What you really wanted was something strong to take off that stressful edge of the day behind you. You felt your eyes settle on a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey stuffed towards the back and couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, a vague memory teetering on the precipice of your mind. Shaking the thought away, you instead choose a bottle of bourbon, placing it on top of the cabinet as you reach for one of the empty glasses stored inside. As you poured a glass for yourself, you felt your mind get lost in a haze, wandering between the events of the past few hours and what you’d planned to do with the rest of your night, and, admittedly something you were ashamed to say, a lingering thought to do with that bottle of whiskey you’d passed on over before. Fucking Jack Daniels, I swear to god…

Your body might as well have been on autopilot then, as you didn’t take any conscious note of anything other than the burn of liquor on your lips. If you hadn’t been so distracted you might have noticed it earlier - the distant sound of footsteps coming closer up the driveway to your house, the sounds turning into thuds the nearer they got. Too lost in your thoughts and too tired from the nightmarish day you endured, you were only pulled from the depths of memory by a loud bang on the front door. Furrowing your brow, you shot a confused and worried glance over to the front of the house, already beginning to feel alerted and wary. Who the hell could that be at this hour?

There was another bang on the door, this one more insistent than the last, and you felt yourself jump at the suddenness of it. Would it even be safe to go answer it? For a minute, you contemplated the idea of ignoring it and pretending you weren’t home, however once you realised whoever was outside could most likely see the lights on from the windows you dismissed that idea with disappointment. You’d have to go answer it, you knew that, but something didn’t feel right to you. Cautiously rising up out of your seat, you took a small step towards the entryway of the house, and through the fear managed to call out “Who’s there?”.

Taking another moment to contemplate whether or not it would be worth fetching a gun for this, you heard the voice of the person on the other side answer back, a voice that had you freeze in a mixture of shock and disbelief the instant you heard it. “Darlin'? It’s...it’s Jack, could you…”.

You didn’t even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you had bolted to the door, hastily unlocking the deadbolt and ripping it open to reveal him standing before you. Something in your heart stopped the second you saw him - he was the one person who you never, ever, in a million years ever expected to see again, much less on your front doorstep. You drank in his appearance, the first thing your eyes being drawn to was the large bloody slash across his cheek. His eyes were looking down at you pleadingly, a look you weren’t used to seeing on him. From when you’d known him he’d always looked so confident, so self-assured and pulled together, so to see him so browbeaten and, dare you say, defeated, unnerved you in a way. You could feel your mouth hanging open slightly, the words being there but your mouth being unable to form them, your eyes only fixated on his own dark and vanquished gaze as your mind raced a million miles a minute. There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, yet the only thing you were capable of verbalising in your shock was the one question that pushed itself to the forefront of your mind.

“Jesus fuck, Jack, what the hell happened to you?”.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels #kingsman #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #yes i write reader insert fic now what about it

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lighntningboltpotter · 4 years ago

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Black & Blue

Harry keeps waking up in different nightmares.

One breath and he’s in that damned forest, out of time and options, surrounded by ghosts.

Another and he’s in a graveyard, clutching the body of a boy he hardly knew.

Another, and he’s falling as a dragon opens it’s mouth to consume him. Another he’s drowning. Another and he’s being choked by cold clawed hands as a snake wraps her body around him.

He wakes, screaming, but it’s just more of the same. Memories push in like a tidal wave, and he sinks. Dumbledore dies, but he’s sitting in class being forced take notes. He buries friend after friend, but then he blinks and he’s shopping at a joke shop with Ron. Every intake of air, a mistake as he struggles to right himself. To keep himself in one place long enough to find the seams of reality and nightmare.

He does his best to ignore it. Goes days without proper sleep, his work keeps him busy enough that it’s almost not a lie. It’s only a problem when he’s home, well. Not home. It’s difficult to hide it when he’s at the Weasley home, and Ginny is wrapped around his arm, gushing to her mother about the plot of land next door. How it would be perfect for a home. For them.

Harry nods, saying, sure.

-but mentally he is thinking her hands are tight as Bellatrix.

Around him, everyone is talking about the future and he can’t feel anything but the past. Nothing pieces his nightmares until he realizes during one dinner, that he isn’t in a nightmare at all. That this is new, and terrible and there doesn’t seem to be anyone stopping it.

“Well, when we get married in the fall-” Ginny says, for the fourth time, in a way that finally hits Harry as odd. It’s not distant sounding, “I was thinking the colors could be dark red and gold, you know, house colors.”

“Oooh that would be lovely dear!” Her mother exclaims, hand to heart and beaming in way that makes Harry’s own hurt. It’s a maternal proudness that he’s never experienced but wants to covet never the less. “What about you dear, have you and Ronald spoken about colors?”

Harry turns with everyone else, because he’s still confused about weather or not this is real, and see’s his friend looking just as lost. Only Ron shrugs off the stares and shoves another forkful of potatoes into his mouth. Saving himself the need to answer. Harry glances at his own plate. Knowing he didn’t make it himself, and wondering if this was his life now. Checking in and out, lost while they pushed and played him to their needs. A new son. A husband. Had he even asked Ginny to marry him? Or was it just assumed they would because everyone else their age had? He hates that he can’t recall for sure.

He remembers Ginny coming back into his life after the war, him so desperate to stay grounded that he took whatever she gave; but the nightmares, work and everything else had watered into down into nothing. Ginny was suppose to be the port in the storm, but now it felt like she was just another storm.

Harry untangled himself from her grip, processing but struggling.

“I’m sorry, what? What wedding?”

Ginny laughed, “Ours? I mean I know you haven’t asked, but come on! We both know where this is going.” She adds, pleased and comfortable in a way that makes Harry’s gut sour. He isn’t any of those things. He is losing his fucking mind unsure if he’ll ever feel normal again. Marriage? He could barely plan his next week.

“Is it?” He throws back, anger building and growing. He was stretched so thin, mentally wrecked and no one seemed to care. It felt real and so he held on. “I never asked you to marry me Ginny.”

“Harry!” Molly starts, clearly about to insert herself but Harry is already moving. If he doesn’t get out of here now, he might never. He might fall into another nightmare, and wake to himself years from now. Who knows.

“I need to go.” Is all he manages before apperating away. It still turns his stomach but he does it several times more. Just to make sure he’s spotted and someone remarks upon seeing him. He needs to space, and he isn’t going to get that unless he plays every trick he knows. Even if that includes getting his house elf to lie for him, using his invisible cloak and sneaking back down to old tunnels in Hogsmeade to get black out drunk in a dark corner.

“Fuck my life.” He mumbles into the cold wood surface before slinking, blissfully into the dreamless oblivion.

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pmplegacychallenge · 3 years ago

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Play Your Packs Legacy Challenge

****THIS IS A WIP AND WHILE SEVERAL GENERATIONS HAVE BEEN WRITTEN UP I AM STILL FLESHING OUT THE OTHERS*** -------------------------------------------------

Play My Pack Sims4 Generational Legacy Challenge

This is a challenge I made after buying and owning way too many packs without ever actually completing all the content, because sometimes you just buy nifty knitting and then actually knit y’know? So here’s my way to remedy that!

Each Generation focuses around a certain pack and what it contains, if you like themes then houses and sims should reflect each pack - but this is only limited to heir sims and their homes, everyone else can do whatever!

Although I have numbered each generation and assigned them a pack, there is a generational challenge for every game pack and expansion and you can mix and match them around based on the packs you own and content you’ve done.

General Rules

You’re allowed to start in any plot you like using the freerealestate cheat when you first start the challenge, however after this no more monetary cheats are allowed and any future moves your sims must pay for.

Cheats such as moveobjects and item cheats ( debug, unlock career items etc. ) is fine.

You’re allowed to move the family around as much as you like with any lot traits, unless otherwise specified.

Every generation should have the heir complete the career and aspiration for that generation along with the generational goals.

Normal lifespan only

Seasons are set to 14 days

Default Lunar cycle

when generation goals are not yet complete, you may only age up on a sim’s birthday UNLESS 2 or more sims are aging within 1 day of each other. If more than 1 sim is aging up within the same 2 day period then you can age them both up provided you throw a gold level Birthday party ( can be the same party ).

If you have completed all generation goals you may age up to the next heir.

You may use cheats to change your heir’s traits to match the ones required

Unless otherwise specified, role a 6 sided dice to determine that generation’s number of children. If you get twins or triplets you can keep them.

You may use guides to help find collectibles.

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Generation 1: Outdoor Retreat

Your sim is ready to get out of the big city and back into nature, that’s what it’s really all about! They don’t have time for that gritty 9 - 5 grind and prefer to take things at their own pace, focusing on family, the outdoors, and keeping it ’down to earth’. It’s not the destination that matters - it’s the journey.

Traits: Loves outdoors, self assured, Clumsy Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast Career: Freelancer Generation Goals:

Host a silver medal Weenie Roast

Maximize the herbalist skill

All your children must join the scouts. To qualify as heir they must reach Llamacorn Scout

Collect all the insects and all the fish exclusively in Granite Falls.

Have a Sim consume every type of toxic plant ( doesn’t have to be the heir )

Take a Hermit out to lunch

Go on a family holiday to Granite Falls at least once during every life stage of the eldest child up until Young adulthood ( toddler > teen , minimum of 3 family holidays )

Tips for this Generation! - Several Granite falls plants only grow in summer, so if you want to prioritise getting them first, start in summer, but if you want to work on your skills and family first start in spring so it’s summer in time for the 2nd or 3rd family vacation. - You can go on a quick 1 or 3 day vacation during the toddler or child stage, so that when your sim has more money, you can spend a longer time there collecting everything without waiting for the spawn timer on plants. - There is a 2 day spawn time for all plants in Granite falls, please see notes about how to work it on this post. - There are no toddler beds in granite falls, so you’ll need to edit some into lots before going camping with them.

Generation 2: Get Together + City living + Spa Day

Your family was just ridiculous! Practically foraging in the bushes for food, and so many long nights with mosquitoes! They must have had it all wrong because you never want to see another campfire in your life! It’s time to pack it up and join the human race - in a big way, and it better be ready for you too! You’re here to make friends and rule them, while giving yourself the life you deserve. Be creative with your style influence, there are all kinds of influencer blogs! Fashion is one but you can be a maker, a gardener, an art critic etc. Fake being a wonderful person while you use them all or being a nice person who just happens to also be a bit narcassistic and doesn’t understand why the world doesn’t revolve around them!

Traits: High maintenance, self absorbed, Insider Aspiration: Leader of the Pack + Self Care Specialist + City Native Career: Style Influencer Generation Goals:

Your first apartment must have the ‘needs TLC’ trait.

Sim must live in the penthouse by the time they become an elder.

Buy 10 pieces of furniture from the flee market

Tip a performer

Have at least 1 spa day a season ( Spring, Summer, autumn, Winter )

Host a karaoke party

Marry a celebrity ( you are allowed to cheat to make this happen )

Have only 1 child, if you have twins or triplets pick one to be the misfit while the other children are adored. The misfit will be your heir.

Complete the city poster collection

You may complete aspirations in any order

Generation 3: Island Living

Your parent was the most self absorbed, shallow sim! You had to stay holed up in your room, or had to follow them out with their silly club entourage, listening to constant noise all the time. Your grandparents have never shut up about ‘the great outdoors’ and how you should get away, but you know you couldn’t hack it slumming in a woodland. It’s time to go somewhere far away, somewhere gorgeous, somewhere you can meet your dreamboat fairytale romance lover, and sail away into the sunset like you dreamed of.

Traits: Child of the Islands, Child of the Ocean, romantic Aspiration: Beach Life Career: Conservationist Generation Goals:

Marry a mermaid on the beach

Live on a lot with the Volcanic activity trait

Complete all 3 part time jobs - Diver, fisherman, Lifeguard, before saving the island

Befriend a Dolphin

Catch all 14 Island Living exclusive fish and find all 13 seashells

Find buried treasure while diving and exploring the cave on Mua Pel’am

Attend at least 1 of all the Island festivals ( guide https://thesimscircus.home.blog/2020/02/22/sulani-festivals-the-sims-4-island-living/ )

Generation 4: Jungle Adventure

Island living is so relaxing, everyday is a never ending paradise of perfect sunshine and easy evenings with cool breezes. It’s so...so….BORING. There has to be something bigger and better out there! Living isolated on an island away from more exciting events has had its own effect on your personality, and you’re a bit of a thrill seeker, at any cost.

Traits: Adventurous, Erratic, kleptomaniac. Aspiration: Their heir should have Jungle Explorer and their partner should have Archaeology Scholar. Career: Writer Generation Goals:

Have twins ( can cheat )

Both the heir and the Spouse must complete their aspirations

Master the guitar

Furnish 1 room in your home entirely with stolen items

Obtain the Spice Hound trait (eat 5 - 6 spicy meals from the spice festival)

Max out the Salvadorian Culture Skill

Complete the fossil collection

Unlock all tombs in Salvador

Become a skeleton for 24 hours

Generation 5: Dine Out + Parenthood + Seasons

You look back at your family and you see outdoor enthusiasts who never had a real job, an influencer wannabe, an island hippie and an adrenaline Junkie. Can’t anyone in this family be normal!? You just want a normal life, with a normal job, going on normal family trips ( not skeleton tombs ). As the next in line for heir you’ve been left a giant fortune, but you just want to live like every other sim. It’s time to add some normalcy to this family!

Traits: Good, Outgoing, Proper Aspiration: Super Parent Career: Self employed Generation Goals:

You may gave your sim up to 30,000 from the family funds to begin OR start them with 20,000 like every usual starter.

Purchase a retail lot and move into it ( buy the lot and furnish it like a house and send your sim there ) and make a café/diner/restaurant of your choice.

Create and sell your own food ( can’t be art or items from the build/buy catalogue ) at your own retail store.

Make a profit of 50,000.

Once you are married and have your first child, celebrate EVERY seasonal holiday, 100% successful for all family members

Generation 6: Discover University & Cats and Dogs

Your family was so normal, it only makes sense for you to take the next step up. Seeing how busy running a family business was made you realize that, that kind of lifestyle wasn’t for you. Better to be a cog in the machine than handling all the stress of running the place! You’ll get a leg up with an education and start a new life and meet all kinds of new people!

Traits: Geek, Lazy, Bro Aspiration: Academic Career: Your choice of Discover University careers. Generation Goals:

The first few goals are based primarily around University, once your sim has graduated please see section 6B

6a.

Live in Brichester

Maximise the Research and debate skill

Throw a house party

Join a student organisation and reach rank 3

Pass University with honours

Apply for at least 1 scholarship

Complete the academic aspiration

Join the soccer team or the e-sports team.

6b.

Complete the Renaissance sim aspiration

Have children from 3 separate partners

Have a child inherit a magical blood line trait ( The first sim with this trait is your next heir by default )

Reach top of your chosen career field

Own a servo

Have a dog

Make friends with a stray

Maximise pet training

Train a pet to max all pet skills

ALTERNATIVELY YOU CAN ALSO OWN AND RUN A VET CLINIC AND GET IT TO 5 STARS

Generation 7: Realm of magic

Ah yes, a perfectly average family, with mundane suburban life getting along just swell. A few generations ago you were adventurers and trend setters, but that’s all over now. Except for you. You're the spark that won’t go out and from an early age you’ve known you were different from your family, there’s something about you something...magical! But you can’t tell anyone of course, they’d never understand! Better to go somewhere quiet and hone your special craft until you meet that right someone, or until they meet you!

Traits: Good or Evil, your pick, Gloomy, Neat Aspiration: Spell craft & Sorcery and Purveyor of Potions ( in either order ) Career: Gardner Generation Goals:

Sims must live in a tiny home house, Size can range from small to micro at player’s discretion

Master every spell

Enchant your spouse to fall in love with you

Set an enemy sim on fire and make their life miserable!

Collect every potion

Become a Rank 6 Spellcaster

#PMPlegacy #PMPlegacyChallenge #PMPChallenge

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drxwsyni · 5 years ago

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Yandere Mirio Togata x quirkless!f!Reader x Tamaki Amajiki

Anonymous asked: “I recently read your headcannons for poly yandere Tamaki and Miro. They were so good!! I was wondering if you could do a one shot about their darling escaping for over a week and is finally letting her guard down. Maybe while at the store the two yanderes finally find her. (Maybe the punishment that ensues afterward). Female quirkless reader if you will. Keep up the amazing work!”

a/n: im sorry this took so long! i have a lot of requests that are really time consuming along with my other fics right now but i swear everything that’s sent in so far will be completed. And thank you anon! I actually really like this pairing so i’m glad people are asking more of it :)

_____

Isolation (2.3k words)

_____

One week.

Seven whole days without the smothering presence of the two so called ‘heroes’ who’d delusionally kept you under lock and key without rest.

The smiles and reassuring sentiments they offered did little to calm the fear you had for the men. No matter how much they declared their devotion to your safety and general well being, nothing could hide the undenying brutality they were capable of should you ever slip up.

You’d seen them in action before. On the news or in a social media coverage―during the time prior to meeting them―demonstrating the extent of their quirks. Their personalities were so gentle, almost as if to distract from the severeness of their abilities. And for the general public, it did the trick.

It did it for you too.

The warmth to their compassion was irresistible. The worst part about it was how genuine it was―and still is. You would be gladly basking in their affection even in the present if it weren’t for the predicament they’d placed you in after you ever so foolishly opened up to them.

The realization on their end should’ve been nothing to think twice about. It came in an idle conversation one day―the fact that you were quirkless.

They’d already grown fairly protective of you since that fateful day in which they worked together to rescue you and your coworkers from a hostage situation. But after getting to know you more, and subsequently coming across this detail, the change was like day and night.

You didn’t even see it coming. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, wrists cuffed together with a long metal chain attached, padlocked to the headboard of a king sized bed. When you found out who the guilty party of this transgression was, you knew better than to fight tooth and nail despite everything in your being wanting to.

No, it was about outsmarting them. They were stronger―so much stronger. You wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone both Mirio and Tamaki. It came down to biding your time.

Fighting the bile in the back of your throat, you let them have their way. The two of them were smothering.

Mirio was a little more lenient. He spent a lot of time around you, but somewhere in his dysfunctional mind was the notion that you needed your space...sometimes. His downsides came in the form of a tight grip around your frame that threatened to squeeze the air from your chest and keep it out. More than once had it left you pitifully begging him to loosen his hold even in the slightest.

As for Tamaki, he was much gentler with his affection. You were allowed the space to breath, but it didn’t mean much when you could almost never pry the man off of you when he was around. Clingy was an understatement―he treated you more like a pampered pet than an actual human.

Together, they were suffocating. You’d never seen such a display of diligence until being forced into the confines of their home. There left absolutely no room for error on their part―something you became keenly aware of.

So, rather than brute forcing your way to freedom, you resolved to lure them into trust the way they’d done with you.

The ordeal took ages, and your will to go through with your plans was ashamedly growing weaker each day. But finally you’d caught them slipping up under the pretence that you weren’t watching their every move like a hawk.

First it was the passcode to the computer in the living room―to disarm the house’s security system, the cameras along with it. After that it was a matter of getting your hands on the spare keys to the locks, both those around your wrists and the digital ones keeping the front door shut. This feat proved to be significantly harder, but one of them was bound to falter eventually.

You’d never felt so grateful to Mirio as he carelessly left his keys on the side table in the entrance in favour of scooping you up in his arms and settling on the couch with you instead. And he left them there as he quickly went to change out of his work attire in his bedroom―just enough time for you to pry the spares off the metal keyring and pocket them for yourself.

They hated leaving you alone and without supervision, a worry that Tamaki held more than Mirio, so it left the window for escape impossibly small. But you jumped on the opportunity the second it came.

For some ungodly reason neither of them picked up on the missing keys.

Your luck must have been coming to existence all at once, as not soon after they were forced to be apart from you at the same time for particularly demanding hero work―not that you cared.

You’d gone over the plan in your head just about a million times, so when the moment finally came your body acted without pause.

The cuffs fell from your wrists. The computer was unlocked and the failsafes were shut down. A backpack was shoved with supplies―clothing, money, food―and then the front door was opened. You stepped outside for the first time in months, you’d lost track of how many.

From then on it was just about running, putting as much distance in between you and that dreaded house as possible. When you finally reached the city, you didn’t even bother going to the police. They wouldn’t believe you, not when it came to two of the most upstanding young heroes out there.

Instead you went to the nearest train station, purchasing a ticket for whichever one was next for departure.

You did that a few more times in whichever town you were dropped off at until you reached the limit for how much money you were willing to spend on traveling. Now it was about holing up in some cheap motel until you could scrounge up the cash elsewhere to keep distancing yourself.

By the end of your first week you were still left with the same sum of money as you were when you got there. The weight of your fear was enough to keep you inside. But you couldn’t live off of overpriced room service and the remaining energy bars from that glorified prison forever.

As much as the prospect of leaving the safety of your room terrified you, the thought of starving to death wasn’t any more appealing. You weren’t hungry yet, but the food would only last for another day―maybe less. It was regrettably the most rational option, should you not want to run out of the little money you had.

It was supposed to be quick. There was a convenience store just ten minutes from the motel. You would grab the cheapest options there and make a beeline back to the dingy building you were stationed in.

You felt their presence before you saw them.

A large, strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a broad chest. Mirio.

And then came the visual confirmation in the form of Tamaki walking out to stand in front of you―too closely for your comfort.

“What’s our little angel doing all the way out here?” Mirio’s voice was lighthearted, but you could hear the distinct lowness, threatening.

You couldn’t move, frozen in place by gut wrenching fear.

Tamaki took both your hands in his own, a grip that could crush bones if he applied even a little more pressure. “Do you know how long it took us to find you? I-I thought―”

“But she’s here now, right? And because she knows what’s best for her she’ll be good and come home with us.” His voice was near centimeters from your ear, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

You didn’t wait this long to be free from them to just give up so easily.

“I’m not going back.”

Mirio gave your hip a small squeeze, a nonverbal warning followed by the real thing. “You know we’d never hurt you baby. Not unless you forced us.”

“B-but we’re not against hurting the people in this store. They’d never find out it was us and you know that.”

Of course, they were too smart to leave a trail back to them, or back to you. And in an instant that strong defiance you once held vanished into thin air, replaced with pure dread.

“P-please don’t do this. You don’t need to do that, just―”

“That’s right, sunshine. We don’t need to hurt anyone. We just need you to come home, you can do that for us, right?”

Like you had a choice.

The blond was already pulling you towards to exit before you could respond. Tamaki hadn’t let go of his death grip either, and you weren’t about to fight him.

Instead you kept your eyes trained on the ground, head hung as if even looking at another person might have them thinking you were about to ask for help. Tears were silently falling from your eyes as they led you back to their car parked outside the convenience store.

“We’re so glad you’re okay sweetheart. You know how dangerous it can be without us to protect you.”

Tamaki was silent as he opened the back door for you, his partner doing all the talking.

The town you were in felt abandoned, especially now that you were off to the side parking lot of the rundown store. So there was nobody to witness the two men carting you off to that wretched place they called your home.

Nobody to witness when the blonde behind you covered your face in a white rag that was alarmingly sweet-smelling.

The ride home would be long, he said. No need to put you through any more stress today.

Before you knew it your limbs grew heavy, brain muddled with inescapable exhaustion. They didn’t even give you the chance to argue over the matter, but then again, it’s nothing they hadn’t done before.

_____

It was cold―so undeniably cold.

The concrete left your body aching when you came to. Your clothing had been replaced with shorts and a tank top―showing that they were still generous enough not to leave you completely defenceless.

You were in a room you didn’t recognize, questioning whether or not the two even brought you back. It was barren: grey walls, a bucket in the corner, illuminated by a single ceiling light that you couldn’t locate the switch to. Lastly, there was the heavy metal door that served as the only exit to the suffocatingly small enclosure.

And there was no handle, or observable locks.

The only sound was that of your own heartbeat as the thudding grew more intense with each passing second.

It stayed like that for ages. Left with the company of your own mind, the isolation began eating away at you quicker than you could’ve ever anticipated.

At this point you assumed this was how they were choosing to deal with your behaviour, but the absence of that clarification was worse than the initial shock by far. It made you paranoid.

Not even the hunger eating away at your stomach was enough to distract you.

Or the extreme drought in your mouth from dehydration.

Or the sharp pain in your tailbone from having remained unmoving from your spot in the corner.

When the sound of footsteps finally could be heard leading up to the doorway, you almost thought that you were hearing things.

The lock shifted in the metal compartments, echoing off the walls.

You would’ve stood up to greet whoever was behind the doors, but the pain that was spreading down your back, coupled with the sensation of your lower limbs falling asleep long ago prevented this.

The door creaked open, and you hated that you felt an ounce of gratitude to see that it was in fact Mirio and Takami who’d put you in this god forsaken room.

The blond started forward ever so slightly while his counterpart remained at the frame of the doorway.

You still feared the men, even though they’d done nothing to physically hurt you―at least until now. So you remained huddled in the corner, arms wrapped defensively around your legs as Mirio stalked over to your form, crouching down at your side.

“You know why you're down here, right?” A rhetorical question, all three of you knew the situation well.

“We don’t want to do this, but you need to learn you can’t just run off like that.” Tamaki’s voice was quiet, like he hated locking you up more than you hated being locked up.

Out of habit you kept your mouth shut. You’d held out for this long while still retaining your sanity, what was a little longer?

“This isn’t a punishment, sunshine. It’s more like...a lesson. You’ll stay here for a bit so you can learn that what you did was wrong, okay?” He reached out and patted your head, as if that would make you feel any better.

It baffled you how he could keep a smile even when subjecting you to such inhumane conditions. But you chalked it up to insanity as clearly neither he nor Tamaki had an ounce of an idea of how wrong this was.

There was a long moment of silence, the two likely waiting for a response which you had none to give. You couldn’t fight them, or talk them out of their plans.

You should’ve ran farther.

The blond stood up from his crouched position, walking back over to his partner.

“We’ll be back in a few hours so you can eat, don’t miss us too much!” Joyful as ever, Mirio led his partner out of room, motioning to close the door before pausing.

“Just know that we love you, okay? We’re doing this for you.”

You could just barely hear Tamaki’s voice before the door slowly closed shut. There was the sound of the locks once again, falling into place.

And then the lights went out.

But you told yourself that you would get through this. You had to.

Because you were scared of what would become of you if you started to enjoy their affection.

#yandere bnha #yandere mirio #yandere tamaki #yandere mirio togata #yandere tamaki amajiki #yandere my hero academia #yandere lemillion #yandere suneater

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