#inaction is better than a wrong action until inaction is the only thing that can’t save you

[okcoolthanks]

I’m afraid I drifted too far

[mianavs]

Love Me Wrong [07 ; Reconcile]

content: corruption, manipulation, yandere themes, smut, angst, blood, violence/death, non-con elements, oral sex, mentioned fauxcest

featuring: mikey x reader, bonten, takemichi, kazutora

note: haha let's pretend it didn't take me almost 2 months to write this~ regardless, i hope you all like the ending. it's the ending i had in mind since the beginning! a huge thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented on this story~ you guys mean the world to me <3

words: 8.2k

other: masterlist

A part of you had always known that your memory would come with a myriad of problems and emotions, but you never expected them to include the worst parts of yourself that had been buried in the darkest recesses of your mind. The putrid feelings that naturally arose in a child from a broken home. The kind that made you seek out others in similar situations just to make yourself feel better because misery really did like a little company. Those were the terrible feelings that propelled you to look for your half-brother, the product of your father’s affair, and the only person that seemed to have it worse than you.

It was only after you found him, that you started to feel better about yourself. You appreciated the refrigerator at home that was always full, your clean and comfortable bed, and even the constant influx of toys gifted to you by your absent parents–all of the things Tetta didn’t have. And when you realized that the one thing he did have was a mother’s love, you selfishly weaseled your way into his home and took some of that love for yourself while replacing it with your warped affection for him. A transaction you considered to be generous compared to the material things your parents gave you instead.

And much like the constant influx of toys your parents sent you to make up for their absence, you showered Tetta with affection in spite of his scheming and terrible actions against those in his way. You knowingly turned a blind eye to his misdeeds and continued trailing after him like the good little sister you fooled yourself into believing you were. Because if you didn’t, then you would’ve been forced to face your true ugly self. The one you’d worked so hard to hide and forget. The selfish, miserable girl who had everything Tetta wanted and thought that being a clingy and annoying sister would’ve been enough to make up for it.

But in the end, it wasn’t. Tetta’s power-hungry spiral led him to an early and terrible death, and you coped the only way you knew how– burying your guilt and acting the part of the naive little sister whose only fault was loving her lost cause of a brother. It took everything you had gone through with Mikey and Bonten to strip the veil from your eyes and see that your brother had been a despicable person who had gone so far as to kill in cold blood.

As the faces of Izana Kurokawa and Emma Sano swirled around in your mind, you felt Kaku’s warm breath stutter behind you as his body shifted.

“Mmm can’t sleep?” His morning voice came out gruff as he tightened his hold on your waist and drew you closer until you could feel the calm beating of his heart over his warm chest. It was the middle of the night but your thoughts were running haywire and you were finally coming to terms with your past actions–or inactions–particularly when it came to someone the man holding you had cared for deeply.

“Did you ever hate me… after what he did to Izana?”

The question left your lips before you realized you’d been thinking aloud. It took him a moment, but he sucked in a breath when it dawned on him who exactly you were referring to.

“I hated Kisaki… but never you. I could never hate you.” He admitted slowly, tasting the words as they slipped from his lips to the shell of your ear. “I know you had nothing to do with his crimes.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before settling back into bed with a tired yawn, his thumb tracing circles over your hip. You knew it was meant to comfort you but his touch only made your skin prickle from guilt. You couldn’t help but feel that you didn't deserve it. His comfort. His love. His faulty faith in your innocence. All of those things weighed heavily on your conscience along with the knowledge that you could have done something to stop your brother and perhaps prevented the tragedy that occurred on that frigid February day. The one that ripped two of Mikey’s loved ones–a brother and sister–and probably led him down that path of self-destruction.

And for the first time since your memories returned, you felt something other than fear and resentment toward the man who’d held you accountable for your brother’s sins. Your heart clenched with pity for Manjiro Sano and just like every night since you’d woken up from your accident, you fell asleep thinking of him.

The following morning, you woke up to a crippling fear when you realized you would have to face Mikey and pretend you hadn’t recovered your memories and were planning your escape. It swirled in your belly and scarcely let you keep down the couple bite of breakfast you did manage to swallow. It was all you could think about despite Kaku’s best efforts to distract you with plans for your future together.

He spoke of different places the two of you could visit, at home and abroad, but your mind kept going back to the penthouse and your white jail cell. He even talked about the childhood friend that would be hiding you in the meantime, Takemichi Hanagaki, but the only piece of information that stuck with you was that he’d been close to Mikey before Bonten’s inception. But it wasn’t until the two of you were in the back of a cab heading back to the penthouse, that your strained string of composure snapped the moment Kaku hung up on Koko and disclosed that Mikey and the rest of Bonten would return in the evening.

“I-I can’t go back there!” The declaration came out rushed and desperate. With your head tilted downward, you wrung your hands together over your lap.

Kaku’s concerned gaze weighed heavily on you. “What do you mean you can’t go back? You don’t have another option, Y/N.” He reached for your hands but you jerked them away and looked up.

“W-What if I can’t escape?!” you demanded, not caring if you had an audience. “What if Mikey finds out or what if I just can’t leave–”

You barely managed to stop yourself from giving yourself away, from voicing that dark and twisted feeling you’d been struggling to snuff out since last night. The ‘him’ was on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it and turned away, shame bubbling in your chest. You were sick. There was no other explanation for why you were having those feelings of regret when it came to Mikey, and you feared returning to his side because you weren’t sure you would have the strength to leave him if you did.

A choked sob ripped from your throat at the thought of sentencing Kaku to death over your betrayal. Hot tears welled up in your eyes and you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries.

Unable to see you cry, Kaku pulled you into his arms and held you close, tucking your head underneath his chin. He smelled of the hotel room’s soap and his signature musk. He smelled like safety and everything you should’ve wanted without a shred of doubt but didn’t, so you buried your face in his chest and cried even harder while he held you tighter.

“I’ll meet with Takemichi today so we can get you out of there tomorrow before first light, okay?”

You wished you had the means to leave on your own and not have to depend on a knight-in-shining-armor to come to your rescue. But you didn’t and you probably never would even with Kaku.

Unable to voice your response, you nodded against his chest and braced yourself for your reunion with Mikey, hoping you’d put an end to your traitorous feelings toward him once and for all.

For the first time since your imprisonment at Bonten’s penthouse, you were alone. Kakucho had left you there with a kiss on your forehead and the promise of freedom early the following morning. A promise that had lost its sweetness now that you had returned and were left to your own devices in facing Mikey. Once you retreated to your white room, an overwhelming sense of helplessness settled into your bones and made your escape seem impossible.

You tried working on a variety of tasks around your room to keep your mind off Mikey but everything you touched made you think of him and the things he’d done to you. The lies and manipulation he used to have you do his bidding. The encounters with the Bonten members he orchestrated that you now realized were meant to punish you but quickly snowballed into something messier. Something that had started off as a sick revenge ploy and contorted into an unhealthy obsessive relationship. Mikey wanted to make you his and you didn’t know if you could part from him in spite of everything done to you.

In the end, you gave up on keeping yourself busy and settled for a shower before heading to bed. It was a futile attempt to avoid him, much like a child covering its eyes and thinking they’re safe just because they’re blind to the dangers surrounding them, but it was all you could think to do in order to prevent yourself from going mad with worry. Perhaps if luck was on your side, you’d be able to avoid the reunion altogether and leave without ever facing him.

Unfortunately, it’d been some time since luck had genuinely been on your side, and you were stirred awake by the sound of the heavy door and Mikey’s strained voice.

“I know you’re awake,” he said as he approached you. “Why aren’t you greeting me like always?”

Your heart dropped at that, but you braced yourself before drawing the covers back and sitting up on the edge of the bed, slowly taking in the man you resented yet cared for. The person who was your enemy, captor, pretend brother, and lover. Seeing him dressed in black and covered in blood, you recalled the last thought you had before succumbing to your injury; a thought that likened him to the personification of death. And just like your first encounter, Mikey came to you–only this time you didn’t pass out. His hands, although clean, smelled like blood and gunpowder as they gingerly held your petrified face. As he searched your face. his pools of endless black widened before his brow furrowed and a glint of melancholy shone only to be replaced by a hardened look–one he’d only directed at his men but never you.

His lips twitched into a smile that didn’t meet his eyes and your throat constricted. You gripped the covers as you peered up at Mikey and to your horror, his thumbs wiped away tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.

“Your memories are back, aren’t they?” It was a statement posed as a question that left no room for you to answer it. “You’re looking at me the same way you did when we first met.”

You opened your mouth to refute him, but you couldn’t form the words and just stared up at him in horror. His smile disappeared and he released your face, turning his back to you in what you could only describe as disappointment.

The plan had failed, and it was all your fault. You were unable to save Tetta and Hanma and now Kaku and Koko would be added to that list unless you threw Mikey off their scent. You wracked your brain for what to say or what to do in order to protect them and decided to ask the question you had wanted to ask him since you recovered your memories.

“Did you really want me dead?”

That caught his attention well enough. He paused halfway to the door before turning his head just enough to see his profile. The dark circles underneath his sunken eyes were more pronounced than you remembered, and you wondered if he'd gotten any sleep since the last time you slept together.

His mouth opened for a moment but he quickly shut it and looked down. Mikey had always been a force of power to you, but ever since you'd started recovering your memories, he seemed to have weakened. The Mikey that stood before you was a shell of what he had once been. Gone was the all-powerful and ruthless leader of Bonten who made grown men tremble with only a look.

He faced you head-on and you resisted the itching urge to comfort him, to make meaningless apologies and ignore the root of the problem. You’d done it countless times with Tetta and you’re subconscious forced the same habit with Mikey, but you were resolved to put an end to it all.

When Mikey seemed to realize you weren’t going to fall back on your old habits, a glimpse of panic crossed his face before he looked to his feet.

“I did… I was planning on killing you myself that day,” he looked up and gave you a rueful smile. “I didn’t think it was fair that Kisaki’s sister got to live while mine was dead.”

You repeated Sanzu’s words from that day. “An eye for an eye.”

He shifted his gaze and looked lost in thought. “Exactly.”

Silence filled the space between the two of you as you contemplated a world where your brother hadn’t delivered the blow that led to Emma Sano’s death. You eventually shook that fantasy from your head and stood up to face reality head-on.

“I’m not Tetta,” you declared, approaching a stunned Mikey, “and I’m not Emma. I’m just me.”

For the first time in your warped relationship, you had some semblance of control and didn’t hesitate in getting everything off your chest.

“I’ll admit that I did turn a blind eye to his schemes and crimes, and for that, I apologize. And while I don’t think I deserved to die for that, I do think my memory loss and everything else that happened was some sort of long overdue karma.”

He shook his head lightly, the remorse on his face as clear as day. “No matter what you did or didn’t do, what I did to you was wrong, and I want to apologize even if I don’t expect or deserve your forgiveness.”

You were speechless. An apology from Mikey was something you had never expected. He was the leader of Japan's largest crime syndicate and apologies, let alone remorse, had no place with someone like him. Yet there he was, sorry for using you as an outlet for revenge against your brother's crimes and with no expectation of forgiveness. You had already known reuniting with him would've weakened your resolve on leaving him but his lament was like a wrecking ball crashing into it and causing it to crumble with each forlorn look his midnight eyes cast in your direction.

You wondered if his remorse was enough to let you go. You licked your lips as you tried to find the right words to say, and his eyes darted to your mouth. Warmth spread across your cheeks under his intense stare. When you finally mustered enough willpower to breach the subject, Mikey beat you to the punch.

“And I'm also sorry because even though I don't deserve you, I can't let you go.” He went to you, retaking your face in his hands. You watched frozen in place as that familiar deranged expression peeked through his mask of sorrow, lips twitching, eyes glazed over, and pupils blown out. He backed you against a wall and, just like that, regained control.

“Just as I was unable to kill you.”

With his body pressed against yours–his warm breath fanning across your face–heat pooled in your core and goosebumps rose across the expanse of your skin. The power his touch, words, and gaze had over you was terrifying considering your memories had returned and you were well aware of his true motive behind your kidnapping and manipulation. It was as if nothing had changed between you–no, things had changed. You could love and be loved by him without that voice in the back of your head telling you it was wrong because he was your brother. It was now telling you something different altogether.

“Mikey, no, th-this relationship isn't healthy.” You pleaded, pressing against his chest and ignoring the growing arousal pressing against your stomach. “We can't go on like this… I-I need to leave.”

He chuckled at that and shook his head before pressing his forehead against yours, the smell of blood and sweat filling your nostrils. You watched as one of his hands pulled out a handgun from his back pocket and set it down on the nightstand next to you.

“Since we both know I'm incapable of killing you, the only way you'll be able to get rid of me is if you kill me because I refuse to die by anyone else's hand but yours.” He nuzzled against your neck, tickling the sensitive skin there as he inhaled your scent. “Otherwise, if you run away, I'll keep searching for you. I'll chase you until the ends of the earth if I have to.”

It was a threat that tasted like a promise, made only sweeter by the press of his lips against your jugular. You gasped at the sensation of his warm, wet tongue trailing up to your jaw, and that was all the invitation Mikey needed to seize the back of your head and draw you into a hungry kiss.

You wasted no time in reciprocating it and pulling him closer until you were also tainted with the blood he'd spilled. The possibility of this kiss, this encounter, being your last spurred your desperation and you matched his ardor, well-aware of where it would lead.

The two of you made your way to your bed amidst a series of messy kisses and fervent touches. His hands ran up your thighs, while you snaked them around his torso, the skirt of your nightgown bunching up around your hips in the process. When the air in your lungs ran out and he broke off your kiss, the intoxicating desire shining in his eyes coaxed a whimper from your lips. Your own lust fogged your mind and muffled the voice of reason begging you to untangle yourself from your captor and finally put an end to it all.

But how could you when Mikey's lips quirked into that satisfied grin he wore whenever you surrendered to him before reattaching to your skin and leaving a trail of marks down your throat, while his erection pressed against your aching core just enough to tease but not satiate your need no matter how much your hips writhed against him? That voice's pleas fell on deaf ears as you worked on removing the pesky bloodied clothing that separated you from what you wanted.

You took in his pale skin that shined underneath the moonlight and marveled at the sight of him. Your hands traveled up the expanse of his exposed skin, committing each groove and indent to memory while he rested his head against your forehead and watched. His breath hitched when your fingers brushed against his erect nipples. Emboldened by his reaction, you lowered your mouth to one of them and flicked at it with your tongue while your thumb mimicked the same movement on the other. He let out the needy moan when your lips wrapped around the now swollen nub and you rolled the other between two digits.

You reveled in the power you had over him and finished stripping him of his clothes by tugging on his briefs and releasing his erect cock, flushed at the tip and already leaking. You brushed the slit with your thumb, ready to pump his length, but he pulled away first, leaving you dumbfounded.

“No,” he hissed, seizing your wrists. “Your turn.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he pulled off your flimsy nightgown and captured your lips in another fervent kiss, making you dizzy with desire. He settled you on your back and helped pull off your underwear. Bare and lying on the bed at his mercy, you panted as his eyes greedily drank you in. You flushed and tried to cover yourself when you were all too aware of your current state only to have Mikey pin your arms down at your sides.

“Don’t. I want to see you.” He breathed and planted butterfly kisses down your shoulder to your clavicle. “And worship you.”

He returned your attentions tenfold by sucking and nipping at your nipples, taking his time with each until they throbbed and you were a writhing, teary mess underneath.

Clinging to his back, your nails dug into his shoulder blades. “Mikey, please. I want you–I need you.”

You felt him smile against your skin. “Patience, sweetheart,” he kissed down your sternum to your navel. “I’ll give you what we both want.”

Mikey held your thighs apart and put his warm mouth on your cunt, sliding his tongue through your wet folds and over your sensitive nub. You cried out from the delicious shock and buried your fingers in his hair, while he growled and closed his mouth around your clit, lapping and suckling at the throbbing bundle of nerves.

A series of whines left your lips from the pressure building in your core. “Yes, yes, yes, God, Mikey, yes…”

Your orgasm overtook you, your words trailing off, and you gasped, back arching and bright white dotting your vision.

For a moment the only sounds you could make out were your ragged intakes of breath and Mikey’s mouth devouring your cunt like a starved man. It didn’t take long for another peak to build before your first one subsided, but before you could come on his tongue once more, he moved above you, spreading your legs and burying his entire length inside of you.

It’d only been a couple of days since the two of you had last fucked, but it felt longer than that. Being stretched and filled with Mikey’s cock had been amazing the first time, but the pleasure you felt now was unlike any other. You chalked it up to the knowledge he wasn’t your brother at first, but quickly realized it was probably the possibility of never seeing him again after that night. Tears dotted your eyes and you had a harder time discerning the reasoning behind them.

Mikey readjusted your legs by placing them over his shoulders before he pulled out his cock and pushed it back in, black eyes watching in fascination as your cunt greedily swallowed him up.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groaned, meeting your gaze with his smoldering one. “Such a good girl for me.”

His strokes were short and shallow, rubbing against that spot that made your toes curl and your hips roll against him, but after a while, you needed more.

“Mmmm Mikey, please.” You moaned, bringing a hand to where your bodies met. “Harder… faster”

Never one to deny you in bed, he gripped your hips and fucked you the way you wanted to be fucked. He dragged his cock against your walls, pulling out almost entirely before ramming his entire length back in and hitting your cervix with each thrust. 

“God, I fucking love you.” He moaned before placing a kiss against the side of your leg. “I could stay like this forever and it still wouldn't be enough.”

“I-I love you too, Mikey.” You keened before pulling him down to seal your love with a kiss.

The delicious friction of your fucking and the added stimulation of your clit had your eyes rolling back as your orgasm washed over you. A wail ripped from your throat as your muscles stiffened and you gushed around his cock, coating your conjoined bodies with your release. Your cunt clenched around him until it was all too much and his hips stuttered as he came with a groan, filling you up with his seed.

With lidded eyes, you watched his entire body shudder as your cunt pulsed around his length, wringing out every last drop of his seed. The possibility of becoming pregnant with Mikey's child crossed your mind, and you found you didn't dislike the thought. You wanted to savor everything about him at that moment, his lithe body covered in a sheen of sweat, the tendrils of his white hair that stuck to his forehead, his pink parted lips drawing in ragged breaths from the exertions of your fucking, and the rise and fall of his chest and the erectness of his nipples, still flushed from your earlier attention.

The man you loved was so beautiful. You wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your days in bed with him, where you were both stripped away of your problems and past. The only place where you were just a man and a woman that loved each other. Not the enemies your turbulent past wanted you to be. And if you didn't have other people involved in your escape, you might've just stayed with Mikey.

But you couldn't betray Kaku, Koko, and their friends who were willing to risk their lives to hide you from Mikey. You couldn't selfishly ignore the problems around you and pretend everything was fine anymore. So with tears burning your eyes, you gave him a forced smile before pulling him into an embrace. He settled his head against your neck and sighed in contentment, causing you to hesitate just for a moment before continuing with your plan.

With one arm slung over his shoulders to hold him in place, the other carefully reached over to the nightstand and picked up Mikey's handgun. The cool metal weapon was heavy in your palm as you handled it–almost as heavy as the pit lodged in your throat–but you swallowed your guilt and held the gun out.

“Mikey,” you croaked as the beginnings of a sob broke through. “I'm sorry!”

Mikey's breath hitched, and as soon as he lifted his head, you bashed the side of his head with the gun repeatedly until the iron tang of blood assaulted your nostrils and his head slumped against your shoulder.

It was only when Mikey laid unconscious on top of you, and his warm blood trickled onto your face that you dropped the bloodied gun and sobbed apologies into his shoulder.

Cleaned up and dressed in the only pair of pants you owned, you curled up on your armchair and waited for the first signs of sunrise. Clutching your knees, you glanced over at the bed where Mikey lay unconscious. You'd cleaned his wound and wrapped his head to keep it clean, careful to not move him too much. Every second that passed increased the risk he'd wake up, so you spent your time alternating between watching the night sky and his unconscious form.

When the warm glow of the sun finally peeked through the horizon, you stood up and walked over to where Mikey was. The moments when you got to stare at his sleeping face were rare. He looked at peace and you observed him for a moment before picking up the cleaned gun and tucking it behind your pants. With your heart racing in your chest, you walked to the door without looking back.

The penthouse was eerily silent as you shut the door behind you and made your way to the front elevator. It wasn't until you rounded a corner that someone pulled you by the arm and slammed you against the wall.

You hissed in pain and watched Sanzu's scarred mouth twist into a sinister smile. He looked like a mess. His skin was sallow and sweaty, pupils dilated to the point that his baby blue irises were barely visible, and his eyes were rimmed red. Even without the twitching and angry red scratches on his neck, you could tell he was high and having a bad trip.

“Where do you think you're going?” He sighed, trapping you between his arms and pressing a knee between your legs. “You should be with Mikey,”

He pressed against you until you felt him harden underneath his slacks. “Unless you're tired of him and want someone else.”

“N-no! Stop it, Sanzu.” You tried escaping his grasp but he only ground against you. “M-Mikey won't like it if you do this!”

He laughed and pushed off you before gripping your neck and slamming you back into the wall. You cried out in pain while also managing to conceal the sound of the gun hitting the wall.

He glowered at you. “What Mikey doesn't know won't hurt him,” he snarled and took your lips into a bruising kiss. You pushed against him with one hand while the other snaked behind you.

“You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment, Y/N. Ever since that day Mikey let me have you.” He worked his way down to your neck while you balled your hands into fists, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“You see this is how things were meant to be, Mikey having his fill of you and then letting me have a turn. After all, it's thanks to me that he found you in the first place.” His free hand shoved inside of your panties and you bit back a yelp.

“I found you.” His fingers parted your dry folds.

“I killed Hanma.” He painfully forced two digits inside your unwilling cunt.

“I led you to him!”

He curled his fingers inside and you shifted your hips under the guise of responding to his ministrations to pull out the gun. And as he smirked at you while fingering your dry cunt, you switched off the safety and shot him in the stomach just as the elevator dinged.

“AHHHH!!!” 

Staggering back, he screamed in pain as fresh blood permeated the front of his purple vest and spilled onto the floor. His hand covered his wound and soon enough the pale pink sleeve of his button-down turned crimson. You tried getting away but your legs gave out, and you collapsed on the floor, bile rising in your throat from the overwhelming smell and sight of his blood.

“You little bitch!” He lunged at you and managed to grasp one of your ankles. “I'm gonna fucking kill y-”

A deafening gunshot reverberated off the walls and silenced Sanzu for good, the bullet going right through the center of his head. Your blood ran cold, your ears rang, and your head pounded as Sanzu's lifeless body toppled over.

There was a piercing scream and it was only when Kaku's large hand covered your mouth that you realized it was yours.

“Shhh… it's okay. You're okay.” He pulled your quivering form into his lap and held you tightly until you managed to recollect yourself.

Footsteps coming from the front elevators caught your attention and you turned to see Koko rushing to you, his face pulled into a scowl. He briefly glanced at Sanzu’s corpse before shaking his head and helping you to your feet.

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Koko seethed, pulling you toward the exit. “All of us. There’s no oth–”

He stopped mid-sentence when Takeomi emerged from the shadows, gun in one hand and gaze locked on his little brother’s dead body lying in a pool of his blood.

It only took a moment for him to put two and two together and avenge his brother’s death but it felt much longer than that for you. It was as if the scene was played out in slow-motion; you saw everything but could do nothing to prevent it. As Takeomi drew closer and aimed his gun, Koko wrapped his arm around your waist and dragged you away. Tears burned your eyes and a wail tore from your throat as you dug your heels into the ground and clawed at Koko’s arm. Kaku turned around and offered you a reassuring smile before closing his eyes. Takeomi fired his gun just as Koko lurched you around and shielded you from witnessing the death of your most cherished childhood friend.

As Koko dragged you around the corner, you managed to look back one last time to find Ran and Rindou holding back a weaponless Takeomi mourning his brother while Mochi appeared from the shadows, defeated, as he stared at the lifeless bodies of Bonten’s top two men. Led by Koko, you stepped into the elevator and descended to what would be a new chapter in your life. Even without Koko stating it, you knew that was the last you would see of them. And by the look your companion gave you once he passed you on to his friend, Inui Seishu, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever see him again too.

Seven long months had passed since your escape, and in the meantime, it seemed like the whole country had forgotten all about the ruthless Bonten gang that had disbanded in a couple of days and disappeared off the face of the earth immediately afterward. The media blamed their fall on a power struggle between Kaku, Sanzu, and Mikey that left the former two dead and the latter missing along with the Haitani brothers, Takeomi, Mochi, and Koko. But while everyone else seemed to have forgotten Bonten, your protectors, Takemichi Hanagaki and Seishu Inui, didn’t, and they made sure you were always guarded in case Mikey ever did make good on his promise of finding you–especially in your current condition.

You sat out on the balcony above D&D Motors admiring the sunset as the ex-Toman members ate, drank, and chatted away inside Draken and Inui's shared flat. The guys always got rowdy during their little reunion–especially when alcohol was involved–and while you normally had Hina's company to distract you, she was running late and you were feeling emotional at the sight of Toman without its leader. You feigned nausea when Draken sent you a worried look and Inui stopped you before letting you go with a nod.

Leaning back on one of the wicker chairs, you closed your eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, and focused on the sounds around you. It was an exercise your therapist had introduced you to months ago and one you found helped when you were feeling more emotional than usual.

The sliding door opened and Takemichi stepped out, taking a seat on the chair next to you with a sheepish look on his face.

“You okay? You were looking a little pale.” His cornflower-blue eyes were wide with worry as they trailed down your face to your swollen stomach.

“We're okay,” you assured him. “Just feeling a little emotional seeing everyone together except…”

You placed a hand over your womb to find comfort in your baby's gentle breathing and stirrings. Takemichi's gaze lingered on your hand before smiling knowingly.

“It's hard for me too. Knowing that he's out there all alone after everyone he's lost.” He leaned forward and placed a comforting hand over yours.

“Which is why I think we should find him.”

“Wait wha- Ah!”

At his declaration, your heart leapt to your throat and you jerked forward, surprising your baby and suffering the consequences.

Takemichi rushed to you with a look of panic on his face, hands lingering over your shoulders and stomach.

“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

You rubbed your belly and waited for your baby to settle before sitting back on the chair.

“I'm fine. We're fine,” you said with a smile.“She's just a kicker, this one.”

“Like her father,” he replied without missing a beat. A silence followed as memories of the man filled the void.

“So you know where he is,” you stated. “Who else knows?”

“Just you, me, and Tora, although I suspect Inupi has an inkling,” Takemichi admitted as he returned to his seat.

You chuckled. “Of course he does. Nothing gets past him.” He nodded with a grin, glancing inside to find Inui scowling at a drunk Chifuyu.

Your gaze followed his and trailed toward Draken who was deep in conversation with Pah and Peh. “Are you planning on telling Draken?”

“Not unless Mikey agrees to come back.” Takemichi tore his gaze from his friends to the orange sky. “I don't want him to suffer through another disappointment.”

You nodded, peering down at your swollen stomach. “I understand. That's also the reason why I haven't told him my little girl's name yet.”

“So does tha-”

“Yes, I'm going to Mikey, and I'll only return if he agrees to come back with me and Emma.”

Takemichi opened his mouth, but his protest died on his tongue and said nothing, nodding silently instead.

“He's up north in one of Bonten's old resorts near some-”

“Hot springs,” you finished, recalling the time you declared your love for him all while recovering bits and pieces of your memory.

“You've been there?” He was understandably surprised.

“Yes, once,” you admitted. “Although I can't say I know the exact location.”

“No worries. I have the address and everything. If I didn't have to work this weekend, I'd take you there myself tomorrow.” He rubbed the back of his head and sighed, leaning back in his seat.

It was sooner than you expected, but you couldn't waste any more time waiting for him to make the first move. You were done with just sitting around and waiting for others to make decisions for you. After months of healing and introspection, Mikey was still the one you wanted and you were determined to meet him and see if he still wanted you.

“I'll go by myself. It'd probably be best if I did anyway.”

He wore the worried expression he'd adopted as of late whenever you did anything that would put a strain on your body, and his gaze lowered to your belly; the source of his worry.

“Are you sure it won't be too hard on you?”

Resting a hand over your protruding stomach, you gently shook your head. “I've got two months left before I pop.” You shot Takemichi a small smile. “I'll be fine.”

The following morning, you left with Kazutora so Inui wouldn't ask too many questions, but from the lingering look he gave, you wondered if he suspected the purpose behind your outing and the possibility of never seeing you again. There was a tug on your heart as you exited the shop and gave Draken a wave that he replied to with a nod. You would miss the warmth and solace that Inui, Takemichi, Draken, and to a lesser extent the rest of the Toman gang, offered, but it would pale in comparison to the hollow in your chest you had been living with ever since you left Mikey.

“You okay from here?” Kazutora asked after walking a couple of blocks.

In the months you'd come to know him, Kazutora was the one Toman member you never connected with. He'd always been distant and reserved with you, and after a while, you stopped trying to break down walls you knew he'd only build right back up again. Takemichi chalked it up to pent-up guilt he still felt toward Mikey, and in some ways, you understood. Guilt was a major reason you never spoke candidly with Draken about Emma Sano or Tetta.

“Yeah, thanks.” You turned to face him while he looked away.

“I- tell him… never mind,” he sighed before running a hand through his long hair. You decided to be bolder and placed a comforting hand over his arm.

“Hey, I get it. Don't worry.”

For the first time since you met him, it felt like Kazutora was truly seeing you and not Kisaki's sister or Mikey's girl. And when he walked away with his head tilted up and a lightness to his step, you vowed to bring back Mikey to give Kazutora the closure he still needed. The same closure you planned on giving yourself when you made a detour to buy a wisteria bonsai tree and headed to visit your brother for the last time.

It was only when you saw the untended state of your family's grave that you spared a thought for your absent parents. Were they still so busy that they couldn't spare some time to pay their respects and tidy up the grave?

A sharp kick from your baby stirred you from your thoughts and reminded you of the task at hand. With the plastic wrapping of the small potted tree, you cleared off the dead leaves and dirt that covered the gravestone and placed the pot on the ledge in front of the wooden marker with your brother's name.

“Sorry it took so long,” you said, tracing the characters of his name branded onto the marker. “But here it is.”

Unlike your previous visit, tears didn't well up in your eyes and your throat didn't close up. Instead, all you felt was the relief of being released from a burden that'd been with you for so long you'd forgotten what it was to live without it.

“I hope it can comfort you in ways I couldn't,” you took a deep breath before continuing. “I-I'm done living with regret. I'm going to live my life the way I want… fearlessly and next to the people I want… and I'm sorry… for all the ways I wronged you.”

You took a step back, inclined your head, and clasped your hands together. With your eyes closed, you wordlessly offered a prayer for your brother–the last thing you would do for him–before crumpling up the wrapping into a ball and leaving, not sure if you would ever visit again.

You stood in front of the derelict resort as the taxi you had taken from the train station drove away, mulling over how different the situation was compared to almost a year ago. Overgrown foliage covered the walls and sidewalks and no lights were on despite the late hour. Instead of sleeping most of the way, you'd remained awake and took in the sights during the train ride out of the city. And whereas the reason behind your previous visit had remained unknown, this time you knew exactly why you were here and what you hoped to accomplish.

Inside, the resort wasn't in any better shape. It appeared to have been abandoned since the fall of Bonten and had been visited by looters. Most of the furnishings had been taken away or broken to pieces. Paper doors were torn. Glass shards littered dirty hardwood floors. The smell of mildew permeated the air. Bugs and small animals scurried out of your way as you made your way through the abandoned building searching for a sign of human life in a place that had once been filled with it. A sign that came in the form of a warm glowing light spilling from one of the suites. With bated breath and your heart in your throat, you nervously walked toward the room and peered inside.

Across the room, Mikey sat on the floor looking out at the neglected garden, leaning against the Shoji door frame with a shot glass of amber liquid. There was a small lantern next to him as well as a large bottle of liquor and countless others, empty and scattered across the floor. He looked different than you remembered him. His hair was longer and dyed black. His skin was sallow and his eyes wearier than before. His clothes were wrinkled, stained, and smelled of the same pungent liquor he drank. It was as if he’d stopped taking care of himself around the same time Bonten fell. He was a ghost of a person. A living person playing at being dead. A man that had lost everything including his will to live.

If he noticed your presence, he gave no indication. He turned away from the garden to look straight ahead and downed his shot. A cool gust of wind sent shivers down your spine and you adjusted your oversized cardigan before entering the room, trepidation in each and every one of your steps. You stood in front of him and only addressed him when he refused to even look at you.

“I got tired… of waiting for you to fulfill your promise.” His sunken eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the wood of the doorframe opposite to him, so you continued with just as much stubbornness. “Although I can’t say it was much of a chase… or that this place deserves the title of the ‘ends of the world’.”

At that, Mikey turned to face you, black eyes as dull and lifeless as coal and thin mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Are you finally here to kill me? To avenge Hanma, the woman from the store, and Kakucho? For what I put you through? The lies I fed you in order to manipulate you into doing my bidding? For fucking you while making you believe I was your brother?”

Each poison-laced word that spilled from his mouth was like a gash against your heart, reopening wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. Tears glazed your eyes and your throat closed up, leaving you unable to utter a word. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d seen so much anger and anguish swirling around in his orbs, weighing down on his brow, and tightening his jaw. It relieved and frightened you all at once. It gave you consolation knowing he was still capable of emotion even if it could lead to him breaking his other promise of being ‘incapable of killing you.’

But just like the other times you had been in need of grounding, your baby reminded you of her presence with a firm kick against your stomach. That was all it took for you to brace yourself against Mikey’s storm of emotions and find the words you needed to say.

“And leave my child without a father? I don’t think so.”

Anger and anguish molded into shock as his eyes lowered to your stomach. You shrugged off your cardigan and held your pronounced belly, leaving no room for doubt.

The empty shot glass slipped from Mikey’s hand and shattered on the patio, discarded and forgotten after your announcement. After recovering enough to move, he shakily rose to his knees and crawled the short distance to you, his wide eyes glued to your belly.

He sat back on his haunches when he reached you. “H-How long?”

“Seven months,” you replied, rubbing your belly. “She’s a perfectly healthy and active baby.”

His glazed eyes met yours and all you saw was warmth and amazement etched into his face. An expression you’d never seen on him but one you preferred to all the others.

“She…? Y-you mean?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “We’re having a little girl.”

He exhaled sharply before breaking into a tentative smile. His hands trembled as they rose to touch your belly but only hovered over it in hesitation. You helped him along by taking his hands and pressing them against the front where your baby moved the most. Your daughter was as responsive as always and kicked not once, but twice for her dad.

Mikey looked up at you in wonder, causing a surge of affection to bubble in your chest. You were unable to resist the urge to caress his cheek and brought his head against your firm stomach so he could hear his daughter. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close while you ran your fingers through his hair. It might've been imperfect, but this was your little family and tears streamed down your face as you watched Mikey’s face light up with each movement your daughter made.

“I-I was thinking of Emma for a name,” you breathed as one hand cradled your belly and the other his cheek. “After her late aunt.”

At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but as you felt wetness against your belly, you realized Mikey was crying. You wondered how long it had been since he’d shed tears. Had he shed any for his fallen comrades months ago? Or had the last time been his sister’s death all those years ago? If he was embarrassed by the act, he didn't show it and merely tightened his hold on you while his tears soaked your clothing.

“Thank you for coming back to me.” He said after his tears ceased and placed a gentle kiss over the swell of your belly before rising to his feet and cradling your face in his hands. “And for giving me a reason to live.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, relishing in the familiar feeling of his cool, calloused hands.

“Thank you for waiting.”

And just like that evening when you confessed your love for him and Mikey made love to you, he pressed a slow and gentle kiss to your lips. That same kiss that had seemed like a promise. A promise you now realized was a promise of love. A love that had patiently healed and was ready to begin anew.

[bjornswoman]

hey babe! Do you take requests ? İf you do, could you do a story with these prompts? And ofc with bjorn please?

Prompts : "Would you do the same for me?” & "don’t touch me!” &

“Did you ever care about us? Or was that another one of your lies?”

False promises

Requested by @bjornsholyarmring.

Author's note: Hey guys! I hope that is what you had asked. If it isn't, let me know and I will write it again the way you want it to be. Also, sorry for being inactive for so long, I had some problems that needed to be fixed. I ensure that I am writing stuff right now and I have a lot of work to do. Sometimes is coming stay tuned! I hope you will like this. Till the next time have fun and take care!

Pairing: Modern!Bjorn x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, sad, romance, drama.

Summary: Bjorn has cheating on you.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, heartbreaking.

"Is Bjorn here?" You asked Ubbe, as you were getting inside the living room of his father's mansion, trying to act like your normal self. Like you weren't crying some moments before.

After the news you received it was natural for you to cry. But you didn't want Ubbe, or any other member of his family to notice that you were crying before. You didn't want to cause a scene in front of all these people. You wanted to yell, cry, hit and yell again to Bjorn after what he did to you.

"He is coming. I talked to him some minutes ago, he is on his way. That's what he said." Ubbe answered to you and showed you the way which led in the living room.

You followed him and when you were in there, you sat on an armchair. Ubbe sat on the couch opposed to the armchair which you were sitting. Torvi, his wife, was sitting on the same couch as him. She was there before you.

"What happened to you?" Torvi asked you, noticing that something was wrong with you. You forced a fake smile on your face, trying to seem natural as two couples of eyes were examining your face.

"Nothing, I am fine. I just want to talk with Bjorn about something. That's all."

You weren't good at lying. It was obvious that you weren't fine. Both of them noticed your red eyes and the tone of your voice. You were angry and sad at the same time.

You weren't even looking at them. You didn't want them to understand —which they did.

"Is everything alright between you and Bjorn?" Ubbe was the one who asked this time. You looked at them both —Ubbe and Torvi. Then, you looked at the clock on the wall in front of you.

Nothing was alright between you and Bjorn. You thought that it was, but apparently you were wrong. You were wrong until you learned the whole truth. Bjorn was cheating on you the whole time. It wasn't that you were such a stupid person and you didn't notice anything. You had noticed once. You were about to leave him, but he promised to you that this wouldn't happen again. Bjorn didn't keep his promise. He cheated on you again.

All this situation made you feel bad about yourself, about your appearance. Why would he do that? Were you so ugly? Why were he even in relationship with you? And this woman. Apparently, she was better than you. He wouldn't have anything with her if she wasn't.

"Yes, everything it's perfect. Things couldn't be better." You lied.

"I—" Torvi was about to say something, but she didn't say it. She started and didn't finish. She decided not to say anything. Maybe, she didn't say anything because Bjorn entered the living room, smiling and greeted all of you.

"(Y/N), I wasn't expecting you. Did we have a date and I forgot about it? Excuse me about it, these past weeks at the company are really exhausting." He told you and you forced a smile again.

"No, no, we didn't have a date. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

You stood up next to him. He seemed curious, he didn't know what you wanted to talk about and didn't expect you to know what he did.

"Tell me."

"I would prefer to talk private." You answered him. "Excuse me guys." You referred to Ubbe and Torvi.

"Okay. Let's go upstairs." Bjorn said frowned and followed you upstairs in his room. When you were inside his bedroom, Bjorn closed the door behind him and sat on the bed. He patted the mattress next to him, motioning you to sit next to him, but you avoided him. You stayed still in front of him. Nobody talked for some seconds. "What did you want to talk about?" He asked looking straight in your eyes.

"About Porunn."

When you mentioned her name, he froze. You crossed your hands on your chest, looking at him, waiting for him to tell you the truth that you wanted to listen.

"What about her?"

You scoffed when you listened his question and looked anywhere else except him. He was enraging you. He knew exactly what you were saying. He knew that you knew everything.

"You know what I am talking about."

"I don't."

"You do."

"Honestly, I don't."

This game was pissing you off. You rolled you eyes and then you looked at Bjorn again.

"I know about your lies and your betrayal. I know that you cheated." You muttered. You tried hard not to start crying again. The tears were already in your eyes and you were fighting them.

"(Y/N), I—"

"I feel bad about myself all this time. I forgave you before and tried to feel good again, but I can't and, apparently, I'm not beautiful and good enough for you." You spoke and tears started falling from your eyes. You couldn't fight them anymore. You didn't have so much power. You felt really bad.

"(Y/N), it just happened once. I was drunk, we fought and you didn't talk to me. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. You are perfect. You are the most beautiful woman in the whole world. Give me a second chance." Bjorn said. He stood up and reached you. He extended his hand to touch you, but you didn't let him.

"Don't touch me!" You screamed and he did as you told him to. He was stood in front of you. You sighed heavy and turned around, running your hands through your head. You were really upset. You didn't know what to say. You closed your eyes and sighed again. After some seconds you opened your eyes and turned to face him again. "I feel hurt and betrayed and it's not the first fucking time. I have forgiven you before for the same thing and, now, you are asking me to forgive you. Again! What if I cheated on you, would you do the same for me? Would you forgive me? Would you give a second second chance?" You asked him, looking at him. His large hands made it to both your cheeks and wiped your tears away from your face. You didn't stop him from touching you this time.

Bjorn hesitated to answer for some time, but he did gave you an answer.

"I wouldn't."

Was the only thing that came out of his mouth. It wasn't like you didn't expect his answer. You knew that he wouldn't do the same for you. You wouldn't fall for his lies again. You had decided that you would end things with him. It hurt you, but you had no choice. You loved him and it wasn't secret, but you couldn't stay in this relationship anymore. You couldn't let him treating you like that. Nobody deserved this.

"I can't do that either. This relationship is hurting me. Your actions are hurting me. I have no choice left, but to end things with you. This relationship makes me feel bad and insecure about myself." As you were speaking, a tear fell from his blue eyes. You hated hurting, like he had hurt before, but you couldn't do that to yourself anymore. Tears were falling from your eyes too.

"I promise you that if you forgive me this time, I will be the best man for you. I love (Y/N). Please." He muttered and you closed your eyes. The tears were streaming unconditionally from your eyes. You couldn't hear him saying the word 'please'. You didn't want to give in. You didn't want to believe his fake promises again. You believed once and he didn't keep his promise.

"This isn't love. You don't cheat on the person you love and, of course, I can't trust your promises. In fact, you false promises. I did once and look what is happening now. I am the price of my silly actions." You said. Bjorn didn't answer, so you found the chance to say all those things that you needed to say. "In fact, I don't believe that you ever cared about me. All you care about is yourself. You just wanted to have your fun with me and at the same time you had fun with other women too when I was too boring for you."

All the time you were talking, you were crying too.

Your words hurt him. They made him angry too.

"That's not true!" He screamed angry.

"Yeah, yeah." You scoffed "Did you ever care about us? Or was that another one of your lies?" You asked like you hadn't heard any word of his.

"Are you even listening to what I am saying?" He asked angry and you scoffed again.

"No. Now fucking answer to me!" You yelled and he run his hand through his blonde hair.

"Yes, I fucking did! I fucking do! I fucking love you! For fuck's sake!" He yelled too and placed a cigarette on his lips. Before he could light it up, uou threw it away of his mouth.

You didn't like when he smoked. It was bad for him and really unhealthy. It was killing him.

"This kills you!" You yelled again, before he could say anything about his cigarette. "And I don't trust you anymore. We are done, Bjorn." You said and placed your hand on your mouth to stop yourself from sobbing.

"(Y/N)." He muttered your name and gripped your arm firmly to stop you from leaving him.

"No, Bjorn. It's better this way. All this was a lesson for both of us." You spoke softly and placed your hand on his to take it away from your arm. "I love you, Bjorn. I will always love you." You said, as you were taking his hand away from your arm. Tears were covering both your faces. The image of him crying were tearing your heart apart, but you couldn't act otherwise. It was the best choice for both of you.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

This was the last thing you heard before you got out of his room and his house.

After that day you hadn't seen Bjorn again for a long time. Later, you heard that he got married with Porunn and had a child, a daughter, with her. You felt happy for him. You loved him and because of that you wanted him to be happy. Apparently, Porunn made him happy.

Some things aren't made to last, one of them was your relationship with Bjorn. Because you couldn't be together didn't mean you didn't love each other. He loved you with his own way that you couldn't understand and you loved him with yours. But love isn't always enough for relationships. Trust is important too, along with other stuff.

Maybe you will be together in another life if that thing exists.

[asterekmess]

Been seeing you getting hate mail and while I absolutely can't understand why anyone would go to all the trouble to make some one else feel bad... I also kinda really love the discourse on Scott? Like YOUR RANTS oh man. On point. Always. Tbh I tried giving Scott a chance... He is the main char after all... But I was like??? Wtf? That dude does nothing but refute others and does whatever he wants. And this was when I didn't particularly like Stiles either (first time watching Teen Wolf). But then I got to know more of him and like Tony he went asshole to lovable asshole—seriously, Stiles might not be the ‘nicest’ but he tries and his heart is in good place—while Scott is just... self-righteous. Someone pointed out that he sees people as possessions and that irks me too that I can actually see it being true. The dude has literally nothing going on except for being the one that gets bitten. And the Romeo-and-Juliet-esque romance he has.

Okay, okay, where was I going with this?? Right. LOVE YOUR RANTS. People need to understand that Scott not being liked isn't because of his race or anything trivial like it—he just happens to be—but because of his actions. Or inactions, as it were. *remembers the pool scene and Scott saying he's busy and resists the urge to chuck a shoe at him*

Basically, love you, love your work, and love your words! ❤️

I've talked with some friends about it, and our number one issue sort of...boiled down to the hypocrisy of the show? I....sort of rant a lot here, and I would add a Read More, but I can't find the option anymore?? I fucking hate Tumblr. EDIT: I found a post that told me how to do it!

So, since he's the character I focus on the most, let's talk about Stiles' morality. Because, you're right. Stiles is an asshole. He does some fucking awful shit in the first season, and even if he had a Reason to do it, it was still bad. And I still don't like it. But I understand it.

Stiles' lack of shits about what is 'lawful' is literally established in the first ten seconds of the show. He's a sheriff's son who sneaks onto people's roofs in the middle of the night bc they aren't answering his calls, who listens in on his dad's work conversations and is willing to fuck up a crime scene because he's so excited about getting to see a dead body. He doesn't care about laws. He doesn't even care about most basic manners (invasion of privacy much, with having Scott sniff Lydia to see if she liked him?). He's a dickhead, even to the people he cares about sometimes. But personality and morality aren't the same. Stiles' entire actual morality system is based around whatever he needs to do to keep the people he loves safe and happy. Lying to his dad so he doesn't get murdered by hunters? Totally fine. Telling Scott that it was "Jackson's own fault" that Scott attacked him with superstrength and dislocated his shoulder, so Scott doesn't feel like an asshole? That's just best friend duties! He will lie, steal, cheat, and he will kill to keep his loved ones safe (let's not forget this boy threw molotovs at Peter, knowing damn well what they would do to him). We can headcanon all we want about all the different people who are in this group of loved ones, but the list is canonically very short: Scott, his dad, and Lydia. Later on, like, past s3B? It includes Derek. Canonically. Stiles puts his life and the lives of others he cares about on the line while he lies to the matriarch of the Calavera hunter clan, to save Derek Hale. Derek is just canonically a part of that group now, and he fucking knows it bc Stiles is his anchor (that's canon too bb). End of Story, Sterek or no Sterek. It's why we get that insane number of lookbacks when Derek is dying before his evolution. Because Stiles is being forced to choose between two people who are BOTH in his ride-or-die group. He Cannot Pick between Scott and Derek, until Derek begs him to leave.

SO, yes, Stiles does fuckface things, and I don't always agree with what he does, but it is ACCURATE TO HIS CHARACTER. He is morally grey. He NEVER CLAIMS to be pure or good or just or righteous. Stiles knows who he is, and he stays true to himself. And I love him for that.

The same goes for a bunch of other characters! For Peter, who is strikingly similar to Stiles, in that family goes above literally everything. Screw the idea that he was following Derek around waiting for the chance to steal back the Alpha spark. That man put his life on the line (his second life, no less) to get the shit beaten out of him until Derek let him help save Derek's life Again and Again. Family Comes First.

Scott's morality is...confusing as fuck. I thought at first he was similar to Stiles, in that family came first, but...while he's protective of his mother, he also does a lot of stuff that puts her at risk without seeming to care/worry (like leaving Peter alone with her once Stiles hits their car, so he can chase Jackson) (or asking her to come to the high school when he's convinced there's a bomber in it)? Seriously, he's more protective over Allison, than his mother. It's very black and white the rest of the time. Very "this bad" "this good." And if you do "bad" then you are bad forever, while if you do "good" you are only good until you do "bad." The Betas were "good" until they asked for the bite, and then they were "Bad." Derek was "bad" when Scott met him and scared him, so after that, no matter how much "good" he did, he remained "bad." But only when it suits him. Allison is good even when she does bad, because he wants her to be good. Chris is good even though he's done mountains of bad, because of the minuscule amount of good that Scott has seen him do, because Scott wants him to be good. Even DEUCALION is good, despite the crazy CRAZY amount of bad he's done and despite having seen him do NO GOOD, just because Scott wants him to be good. Lying to those closest to you is bad, unless Scott is doing it, and then it's good, because he knows HE is good. Killing people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Letting villains go is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Biting people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Protecting family is good even if it requires killing or lying, unless it's not Scott doing it. Revenge for past slights is good, unless it's not SCOTT doing it. And you try to understand it! You try to say, okay, then he's morally grey, got it. He plays with the rules to suit his own morality, whatever. Except that Scott, the other characters, and THE SHOW ITSELF, are all telling you otherwise! They all say that Scott is morally pure. That he is good and righteous and lawful. That he always does the "right" thing, and that when he does "bad" things, it's justified and he had to. THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES say Scott is somehow better or more righteous than the other characters by MAKING HIM AN ALPHA OUT OF NOWHERE. (I'm talking abt canon here, not going into deaton conspiracy theories) It's like....Like in the hate mail response I did, where I pointed out that Every Single Thing people get angry at Derek for doing, Scott did too. Lying, killing (or at least attempting it), attacking innocents, losing his temper, keeping secrets, refusing to work with someone who could help, etc etc etc. Everything Derek has done that is morally "wrong," Scott has also done. And that's okay! Doing a bad thing doesn't make you a bad person, and even if it did, Scott is ALLOWED to be bad! GO FOR IT.

Except that he is sinless. It isn't that he learns from the bad things he does, it's that they aren't treated like bad things in the first place. Because Scott did it, and Scott always does the right thing.

Derek's behavior is reprehensible at times, but the show ADMITS that and frames it as bad. Frames it as him doing a bad thing when he scares Isaac or throws Peter or tells Erica who to date. And that's fine, because Derek is established as not being morally pure.

But SCOTT IS. And because they were so desperate to make him continue being "Pure" they didn't frame the things he did as wrong, or if they did, they absolved him of it immediately, using the exact same reasoning that works for Derek's situations, but this time Actually Accepting it.

He scares Stiles, well it's because he's scared. He throws Isaac, it's because he's upset. He attacks Jackson well it's because Jackson was being a dick. He orders Allison to date Matt, well he had a goal to accomplish. Every reason is treated like a fucking doctor's note that erases the bad things he does.

Being scared, or angry, or retaliating to someone being an asshole, or trying to protect himself, was NEVER a good enough reason for Derek to do ANYTHING "Bad." It was never an acceptable excuse.

IF IT WERE: If the show were making a statement about how fallable people are, how they do bad things, but they do them for a REASON. How people will do wild and terrible things out of fear, and how that doesn't make it less bad, but it makes it understandable, so don't demonize them out of nowhere. If that were the case, I would HAVE BEEN FINE WITH IT.

Scott is held to COMPLETELY different standards than everyone else in the show! And I DON'T mean that people held him to higher ones. They dropped that bar so fucking low. Anything was allowed, and any excuse was good enough.

He made out with a girl who was dating someone else, who his best friend was in love with? It's just the full moon, he's angsty about losing Allison. He ducttapes Liam to a bathtub and starts throwing random phrases at him that he hated Derek for saying to him? He's freaked out! He doesn't know what to do with a bitten wolf! It was an accident! He works with a mass murderer behind people's backs without telling them the whole story? Am I talking about Gerard or Deucalion? Who fucking knows. Either way, it's okay, because he was protecting his family. He plots to murder a cancer patient slowly and painfully by replacing meds that likely included painkillers with mountain ash, and the uses someone else's body to deliver the killing blow, and it's okay because he was just being smart! He was just working ten steps ahead! He was saving his mom and the whole town! Who cares if it DIDN"T WORK?

He walks into his ex-girlfriend's hotel room and scares the SHIT out of her while she's naked and alone in the shower? It was the wolfsbane. It doesn't matter that no one else's impulses included HARASSING someone. He lies to his girlfriend's face about her own life because he doesn't think it's important enough for her to know (who am I talking about, come on, take a guess, which one is it? Allison or Kira? Trick question: it's both). He was just being kind! He didn't want to worry her! He didn't want to make her feel bad! She didn't need to know!

I'm so far off track it's not even funny. My point was that Everything the other characters in the show are demonized for or framed as evil or bad or wrong for doing, Scott is shown to do and it's treated like at minimum a comedy, if not a Perfect Brilliant Strategic Move.

God, fucking hell. I mean, the PARALLELS you see in this show, between Scott and others. The scene of Alexander Argent going to the hotel after being bit? That bit where he pulls his shirt up in the mirror? It's a near PERFECT replica of Scott looking at his bite at Deaton's. They paralleled SCOTT MCCALL with AN ARGENT. Deaton has this whole line in S2 where he's bitching at Derek about "the person you should trust the most doesn't trust you at all" And then seasons later, we have Scott look his best friend in the eye and refuse to trust him, only to get upset later because Stiles doesn't want to work with him anymore and he "lost them." Scott goes running into Derek's house in S1 to accuse him of killing the bus driver, and when he can't get a real response, he EGGS HIM ON by accusing him of Murdering his SISTER, just to get Derek to react. Which is the EXACT same thing Kate did when she showed up and wanted Derek to lose his temper. Scott is CONSTANTLY paralleled with villains and assholes, and constantly does the things that others are persecuted for. But instead of feeling regret or learning something from it, instead of growing AT ALL. Those actions are treated as good. We are told they are righteous. And clever. That they are what heroes do. AND YES: There are parallels between Derek and Stiles' behaviors and villains/morally grey characters! Of course there are!

BUT THEY AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THE TRUE ALPHA MAIN CHARACTER. SCOTT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE GOOD GUY. HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO MIMIC/EMULATE THE VILLAINS, AND HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE REWARDED WHEN HE DOES IT ANYWAY.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I understand the urge to think that the Teen Wolf writers did all of this on purpose. That they built Scott up as an unreliable narrator, so that we're forced to come to terms with a protagonist who isn't good, and we watch them fall into a villainous role while thinking all the while they are a hero. That all these parallels are intentional and the writers just couldn't Tell us what was going on bc they didn't have enough power.

And sometimes I play into it. I will lie to myself about Scott being the 'narrator' of the entire show, and that we're seeing it all through his eyes so of course things are biased and conflicting, just so I can actually Enjoy watching it.

But I think it's absolute bullshit that this was done on purpose. It wasn't. The parallels appeared because they Wanted Scott to do the badass things that they had all the villains doing, throwing people and being sneaky and clever, and stopping the bad guy, and they didn't want to deal with the fact that they were having him do bad things. So they just pretended he wasn't and refused to acknowledge that they'd already punished other people for doing the same exact shit, but somehow Scott was getting rewarded. They wanted Scott to be the hero, so they made him the hero, and screw everybody else.

[romanticahwi]

Stray Kids as Princes

requested: no

genre: fluff + a bit suggestive

ship: skz x gn!reader

warnings: a bit of suggestiveness of sexual deeds, mentions of swords and fighting, mentions of injuries, lmk if there is more

not proof read! (minors dni)

a/n: we apologize for being so inactive recently! here’s a new work we’ve been working on, we hope it makes up for our long absence.

Bang Chan

    •    Probably one of the sweetest rulers ever

    •    Incredibly approachable

    •    Gives you the best advice you’ve ever heard sometimes whenever you’re having problems

    •    Sometimes you forget he’s royalty because you just feel so comfortable around him

    •    Lots of people swoon over him because honestly how could you not? Especially since he’s so sweet literally 24/7

    •    Nobody has ever seen him unhappy before, and he has certainly never been seen angry - only slightly annoyed but that itself is a rare sight

    •    He has a big soft spot for puppies and just all things cute

    •    He might have once proposed to change the name of his kingdom to something puppy-related (Succeeded in changing the national flag to something that had puppy paws in it)

    •    He enjoys swimming a lot, and there will almost always be a crowd of fans watching him and cheering him on every time! He may get really shy about it, but on the inside, he secretly likes it and it motivates him to do better!

Bang Chan As Your Prince

    •    As a lover, this man treats you like you’re royalty too, even if you aren’t!

    •    He will never allow you to degrade yourself or put yourself down but if that’s your way of coping, he won’t hesitate to give you his full, undivided attention…and then he’ll shower you with love and very kind words (he’s incredible with them - it never fails to blow you away)

    •    His singing voice is lovely, you often ask for him to sing you to sleep which is something he loves to do! He sees it as a way to get in some minutes of practice so he can improve himself

    •    He always wants to better himself and take care of others so much to the point that he’ll ignore his own needs, so he’ll definitely need someone to take care of him

    •    You sometimes can’t believe you’re lucky enough to call him yours, but he feels the same about you too, and he’ll always make it known (You swear your heart melts a little (in the best way possible) whenever he gets shy)

    •    He’s very cuddly, he loves giving you hugs; if there’s a day that goes by where he doesn’t give you one at least once throughout the day, then you know something is wrong

    •    He giggles a lot, and anything can set him off but you find it to be incredibly endearing

    •    He is just so soft…especially in the bedroom, but there are times when things get a little more heated

    •    “In a world that was dark and grey, you came along and painted beautiful, vibrant colors”

Lee Know

 •    He seems unapproachable at first because of his icy stare, but that’s quite the contrary actually (he’s actually an incredibly warm human being)

    •    Loves to crack jokes! Most of them are cat-related, but don’t comment on that or else he’ll probably stare at you weirdly and will continue to do so until you let it go

    •    Don’t tell anyone, but he secretly loves playing with cats in his free time, and sometimes whenever he has to spend a full day tending to his ✨ royal duties ✨ you’ll find him squeezing time in to pet some stray cats or to rescue them

    •    Speaking of rescuing stray cats, he’s incredibly passionate that no cat should be homeless and each should be loved and taken care of

    •    Not just cats, but he believes any stray animal shouldn’t be left without a home or a loving owner (He himself has three cats)

    •    He’s basically the president of the kingdom’s animal rescue team, and he often checks up on the shelter to either play with some of the animals there, or he’ll chose one and spontaneously run around the kingdom to promote how adorable they are in hopes of finding them a home at the end of the day

Lee Know as your Prince

 •    You must be an animal lover like him, because you guys will spend so much time together at the shelter to play with them!

    •    He’s a little awkward when it comes to affection, specifically hugs, but with given time, he’ll warm up to it! Plus, he’s awkward in a cute way

    •    He’s gifted you a cat plushie which you’re unable to sleep without at night, sometimes you’ll catch him stealing it from you because he claims that it’s just too adorable

    •    You guys have ice cream dates a lot, because he seems to have a second stomach for it

    •    Whenever you go with him to get his portrait painted, he loves to pose in funny positions and make funny faces, there are a lot of portraits consisting of him doing so, finding a more serious one is kind of rare but hey…you’re just glad to see his true personality that he’s a bit hesitant to share with the rest of the kingdom

    •    You happened to discover this on accident, but he likes it when you ruffle his hair and look at him fondly, it makes his heart race

    •    He often guards his emotions, but you feel thankful whenever he opens up to you because sometimes you get worried when he bottles them up for a little too long

    •    He can be a bit evil sometimes, and that shows in the bedroom but he makes sure to never do something you’re not comfortable with - your needs come first  

   •    “You are my pride and joy, I feel so lucky to have you”

Changbin

• SUCH A FUN MAN!

• Nicknamed the prince of fun! Only by a few people…everyone else refers to him as the “pig-bunny prince” because he has a big obsession with Dwaekki (he might even be the face of the kingdom…literally. aka the national flag)

• You can trust him with practically anything. But do expect him to playfully tease you most of the time!

• He can be really loud! Even if you’re a few rooms down from whatever room he’s in, there’s no doubt you’ll be able to hear him

• He really loves music, he’s in charge of anything music-related (He’s hosted rap classes before, and a lot of people found them to be a bit on the difficult side because he can rap incredibly fast)

• He’s pretty chill, and kind of like a best friend to everyone - he’s that open to things and he’s incredibly reliable (He’s got everyone’s back, whether you’re close to him or not.)

Changbin As Your Prince

• He’s a very fun lover as well, your love life together is always full of excitement

• Certain activities could possibly cause him to get severely injured, and you always mentally note that you should tell him to stop, but seeing the pure joy on his face…you can’t help but to change your mind. (He’s a little daredevil, it’s kind of rare to see him mellowed-out, and when you do, you should probably be concerned when he isn’t being his loud, hyper self)

• He can be pretty affectionate when he wants to be but he displays his love for you through other actions rather than physical affection

• He too, is very good with his words! He makes you feel like you’re on cloud 9

• That “cool guy” act that he’s got going on? It doesn’t show up as much when he’s with you, because he’s just that comfortable with you. (Plus he thinks that you deserve to see the true Changbin…the man behind the prince that everyone else doesn’t get to see)

• His playfulness shows up in the bedroom too, along with ruthless teasing, like sometimes you’ll have to beg for him to have mercy on you but in his opinion that just makes things more exciting

“What was my life before? Ever since we met, I can’t seem to live without you anymore”

Hyunjin

the softest when it came to serving his kingdom

his gentle voice and soft smile always brought people to ease when they were around him

an equestrian. when not attending to royal duties, he’s always riding a horse or in the stable

as the only child and only son, he must take over the kingdom, no questions asked

throws an annual winter wonderland festival to show his gratitude to his subjects

his kind smile is loved by all

Hyunjin as your Prince

so so so loving oh my

would help you make bracelets for the small children in the kingdom

would press loving kisses to your face with that shy smile of his

would also take you on horse rides! in the morning, middle of the day, at night? you name it!

intimacy between you two was so loving and soft

he would show you how much he loves you with sweet kisses and gentle words

“everyday when I watch the sunset, I realize I’ll get to spend another day with you.”

Han

he gives off the vibe that he wouldn’t want to rule the kingdom after his father.

he wants to pursue music, but the king is against it.

so against it, that Jisung has to do what he loves behind his father’s back

very playful; loves sword fighting and horseback riding

everyone in the kingdom as a slight crush on him

he’s known for being very heroic; he’s saved many people and the protected the kingdom with an iron fist

he may not want to rule in the future, but he still cares about his subjects like family

very giving as well; always there if anyone is in a bad situation, whether it’s big or small.

Han as your Prince

very loving; loves pressing kisses all over your face, and having his hands on your body

very protective. If anyone looks at you with barely even a little interest, it’s all over.

when you two get intimate, I see him being the one to initiate everything

he would take care of you, kissing down your body with soft praises and soft touches

holds your waist gently while doing the do

“ there are many bright stars in the sky, but you’re the brightest out of them all, baby.”

Felix

the sweetest prince ever.

cares so much about his subjects; maybe more than himself

everyone loves him, and are very ready for him to take over the kingdom

hosts monthly bake sales that the entire kingdom can participate in, which also helps feed people in need

dances when he’s not attending to royal duties, and oh my, he’s a beautiful dancer

during the cold winters, he hosts as much shelter for people as he can

being the only son in his family, he needs to find a significant other soon because his father is getting old to keep running the kingdom

Felix as your Prince

no surprise, but he’s the sweetest

he can’t keep his hands off of you when you’re together

hands on your waist, holding your hand, any skinship, he’s doing it.

when you two were intimate, regardless of his roll, his eyes would be filled with so much love.

loves it when you run your hands through his hair, tugging it gently

nonstop kisses. he’s completely addicted to your lips.

“i might be the kingdoms pride and joy, but you are my absolute universe.”

Seungmin

very strategic and well educated. he knows what he’s doing, and knows how to do it well.

extremely brave. he’s saved the country multiple times.

he comes off as cold, but behind closed castle doors, he’s an energetic puppy.

loves to sing in his free time

often gets caught singing in the castle garden, and gosh he sounds beautiful

extremely protective over his family. You hurt them, he hurts you.

Seungmin as your Prince

cold on the outside, warm on the inside

will not go father than keeping his arm out for you to wrap around when you’re in public

but within castle walls? he’s all over you.

kisses kisses kisses galore

smiles brightly only for you :(

sings you to sleep every night

when you two are intimate, he usually wants it soft and slow so he can show you how much he loves you

soft praises and slow, romantic kisses

holds your hand the entire time

“you are more beautiful than the cherry blossom blooms on a sunny day.”

I.N.

playful but caring

he always is holding a smile on his face. there’s never a point and time where people weren’t seeing him smiling.

however he takes his royal duties very seriously. when someone is in trouble, he’ll put the villain in their place.

a fencer. he finds such a thrill in fighting someone with a sword.

since he has an older brother, he doesn’t have to take over the kingdom, and he’s happy about it.

ideally want to live in a forest, surrounded by trees and wonder.

I.N. as your Prince

so so so caring. he cares about no one when it comes to you.

he loves to press gentle kisses all across your face, neck, jaw, etc. he just thinks you’re so beautiful.

would love it when you showed up to his fencing matches. he loved it when you were there to cheer him on.

you two would stay up till the rise of the sun singing and giggling with each other.

would hold you close when you two eventually fell asleep.

this sweetheart would let you take any role when it came to intimacy. he was an absolute fool for you.

“When the sky is filled with sweet, bird songs, I get reminded of you.”

- atalia & arya

[saturnsummer]

helpless.

han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.

ao3 link

notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.

edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.

words: 4130 words.

it’s been a terrible day for sol.

forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.

she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)

sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”

sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.

that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.

sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.

but joon hwi hasn't.

she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.

thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)

she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.

what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.

“you’re still up?” he asks.

it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)

joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.

and he couldn’t understand why.

until now.

joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?

joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.

for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.

“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.

“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.

“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.

“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.

“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.

“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)

joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.

not. at. all.

-----

the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.

sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.

sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.

“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,

she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.

joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.

“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”

“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”

“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.

i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.

joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.

-----

it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.

but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.

joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.

and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.

sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.

the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.

“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.

later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.

-----

she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.

all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.

as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.

“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.

the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.

then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.

joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.

the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.

and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.

-----

joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.

his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.

his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.

with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.

and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.

-----

when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.

“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.

“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.

“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.

“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.

“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.

“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.

“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.

joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.

“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.

his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.

“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.

“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)

joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.

i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.

because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.

-----

sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.

when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.

she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.

after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?

joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.

because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.

-----

bonus:

“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.

“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.

well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.

[haitanirindo]

zukka fics that live in my head rent free! 

1. what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth (what were you digging) by draco_sollicitus status: complete (18k words) rating: mature pairing(s): sokka/zuko  summary: Sokka is immortal; it's been tested, he knows that he can't die. He's immortal, but he's not quite a god like his sister, Katara. He's immortal, but he's not quite powerful like his friends Aang and Toph. He's just sort of Sokka: good at fixing things, good at playing pranks, good at helping people. When a bet against Toph goes horribly wrong, and an attempt to save him goes even worse, Sokka finds himself the unwilling guest of the Lord of the Underworld. And, strangely enough, every story Sokka's heard about Lord Zuko seems to be ... completely wrong. (Also, he's really handsome. Why does he have to be handsome?)

mythology nerds come get y’all juice. a very good fic. 10/10

2. Where I Want to Be by through-the-stars-to-the-pavement status: WIP (83k words) rating: explicit pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: "'The fog was where I wanted to be.'" Everything is different. The pitch of his voice, his posture. The auditorium goes silent. No one can take their eyes off of him.… He's amazing.  Zuko had to perfect the art of acting as a child to survive the horrors of his homelife. When he got older, it was only natural to take his talent to the stage for entertainment and escape. Enter Sokka, a craftsman and set designer with a giant heart who is haunted by plenty of ghosts of his own. A tale of trauma, disability, family, creativity, and love. 

this is one of my all time favorite fics. it’s seriously so good and i think about it often

3. Teaching a Heart by @i-write-shakespeare-not-disney status: WIP (114k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Sokka is asked to go to the Fire Nation to teach the crown prince how to sword fight. When he arrives, he's surprised to learn he has to pose as a companion before he can teach the stubborn prince because he rejects every teacher. Far from home and among new customs, Sokka struggles to gain the prince's trust and friendship despite the uncertainties of the customs and dynamics he sees. As he slowly finds answers to his questions, his bond with the prince grows until it becomes something far more ardent than friendship. Doomed as it may be with the prince's approaching wedding ceremony and coronation, Sokka and Zuko find themselves consumed by what they find in each other.

i have no words, i just love this fic and it makes me weep.

4. The Road Between Action and Inaction by @donvex status: complete (17k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Sokka does a shitty k turn in the parking lot across from the bus station, pulls up to the curb where the boy is looking determinedly at his phone, and rolls down the passenger window. “Hey! Which way were you going?” He may die, but at least his conscience will be clear. The guy blinks at him. “Don’t.” Oh, he’s prickly. Or: the hitchhiker au, featuring Sokka and Zuko falling in love without even realizing it.

a classic. roadtrip fics own my ass. 

5. purrfect for eachother by lesmiserablol status: complete (3k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: “Let me teach you how to be a cat person,” Zuko says. “Learning from the master himself,” Sokka grins. “Alright, this can’t be too hard. Show me what you got.” (because sometimes, it takes going to a cat café four times to realize you're in love with your best friend)

this whole series is adorable, reading it is self care

6. Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by @muncaster status: complete (47k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko, aang/katara, mai/ty lee summary: Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes? (AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

i think this is the longest one-shot i’ve ever read and it’s so worth it

7. a study in matchmaking by @verdanthoney status: complete (12k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko, aang/katara, bato/hakoda summary: Zuko and Sokka try to play matchmaker, but things don't go exactly as planned.

this fic makes me want to scream, in the best way. it’s so cute

8. A Predictable Story by mindbending status: complete (7k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: "On this night, you shall share a kiss with a great love of your life!” That lying, scummy Aunt Wu predicts a grand romance for Sokka. To disprove her "fortunetelling" once and for all, Sokka decides to spend the night with least romantic person he knows. Zuko.

again, i have no words. this fic is cute as hell

9. that’s murder, buddy by @bisexual-atla status: WIP (14k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Throughout the streets, on quiet nights, it was rumored the screams of those missing could be heard. Some say the sounds were coming from underground. Where were the young girls? And what was happening to them? Was an evil spirit haunting Gaoling, or something more human? More sinister? My name is Zuko, and you’re tuning into another episode of ‘That’s Murder, Buddy’. Or: Sokka has no idea that his crush is the host of his favorite podcast. (But everyone else knows.)

i love the entire concept of this one, we love oblivious sokka

10. We’ll play hide and seek (to turn this around) by @crosspin status: complete (5k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko, bato/hakoda summary: Sokka gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s…well, you see, there’s this boy…” Hakoda sighed and set down the sports section. This was going to take a while. “He works at Barnes & Noble. At the big information desk in the middle. Every Saturday. And I really want to ask him for his number, but it’s super awkward because there’s always this other guy working the information desk at the same time. He’s old, like you. But I have a plan." Sokka’s eyes lit up deviously. “You come with me to Barnes & Noble today when they’re working and distract the old man. And while you have him distracted, I’ll swoop in and get the goods!” Sokka has a plan to ask out the cute boy at the bookstore. Hakoda is a begrudging participant until he meets the boy's beautiful older coworker.

this fic!! this fic! adorable, incredible, magnificent

11. feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe status: WIP (88k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: [Time passes oddly. Between one second and the next, Sokka has the Fire Lord pinned to the wall with his hands around the bastard’s throat. Golden eyes (one gold eye, his mind whispers) widen in shock. “Sokka?” he chokes out. And then he smiles. What the fuck? “Sokka, I—” Sokka slams his head against the wall, once, twice, and the smile wipes off his face. Good. “What,” Sokka bites out, “have you done to my sister?”] Or: An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends. Yeah, nah.

if you’ve been following me for a while you know this fic fucks me up beyond belief

12. breakable heaven by @fruitysokka status: WIP (43k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

this just in: sokka and zuko being oblivious makes me want to yell

this turned out a bit longer than i expected but it also doesn’t even cover all my favorites. i had to stop somewhere, or i’d be here forever. maybe i’ll make a part two someday.

anyway, enjoy!

[im-going-to-cryo-bust]

heyy,may i request with diluc and kaeya, s/o who gets hurt but like doesn't tell them till someone slips it up.Thank you!!

Diluc and Kaeya on: fem!s/o getting hurt

WARNING: angst/hurt with comfort

You end up in the hospital after a series of rookie mistakes. It's not your first time, so you reassure your teammates and plead them to keep quiet about it. It only takes a few weeks or only one day, considering that elemental healing will speed up the process. All you have to do is lie down and pray that no one spills the beans until things are better or confirmed...

Kaeya is in the center of Mondstadt so it’s impossible to avoid him, he did suspect that your mission is going on longer than usual

Ah, but what was the point of secrecy? Kaeya is too good at sweet talking that he found out in an hour - majority of that hour spent hunting down your party members.

He'll most likely "accidentally" stumble into your party members and bait them to a willing, subtle interrogation

He'll tease out little hints and piece everything together without even needing a direct answer

If you had a minor injury

He would take some time on the way to buy you a snack or gift to make you feel better. He spends a little longer more than he would like, cursing a bit and choosing one of the three presents he thought you might like. You hear rhythmic knocks on your door and the door swings open, Kaeya dramatically walking in with a smug smirk on his face. "How are you doing?"

You roll your eyes as Kaeya saunters in, sitting next to you and holding a gift in his hands. He laughs, but he looks nervous. His leg shakes erratically despite him pushing down on it, knuckles white. Then you remember the way his eyes flickering around the room, averted by his vexing smirk. Before you can talk about it, he interrupts with a distraction, the gift. He observes you with a smile as you brighten up at the sight of it, feeling a lot more better at the sight of you. 

Kaeya continues to distract you with teases that get you all riled up (adorable and hilarious in his opinion) and discussing the nervous nature of your encountered party member. You take the opportunity to retort about his nervousness. He looks stunned for a second, but he chuckles, “I knew I couldn’t get anything past you..” He hesitates. “I was worried when your friends looked so anxious, I was preparing myself for...” ‘The worst.’ Kaeya leaves it as it is, bitter smile in the pensive atmosphere. You clutch his hand tighter and Kaeya lightens up, reciprocating and knitting your hands together.

“When they said it was minor and you would recover soon, it was like a boulder was lifted off my chest.” He pats your head, his touch lingering longer and his gaze fond. “I’m glad, glad that you’re okay.”

If you had a major injury

"What?" His charming smile disappears, words slipping through a frown of gritted teeth, daring (even hopeful) for the person to say it's a joke. The answer doesn't matter, he can tell from their expression. He only allows a flash of pure terror to be seen by them, pushing through the crowds of people to reach the hospital.

When he bursts into the room to see you, his eyes fixated on yours. He freezes at the door, processing everything now while you are there, alive, in front of him. He refuses the voice in his head feeding into his fears, making him scared to come closer for a confirmation. He might have to face it: a loss and an emptiness.

But then you weakly smile and reach out for him; and he can finally breathe again. He is so urgent that he stumbles to get there, to give you comfort. Finally, when he sits next to you, you can see closer the joy but weariness in his expression. He has a smile unlike Kaeya, ridden with anxieties and unable to fool even a domestic dog. He pecks your hand and sandwiches it between his, familiar warmth wrapping around your hand. You start to fall asleep, exhausted by the events of today, and Kaeya overlooks worryingly. These injuries happen all the time, it's part of the job, but it doesn't make it any better to see - especially when it involves you. He swears and curses under his breath, not wanting to wake you up. 'It's best for her to get some rest', he tries to assure himself from his concerns, but he can't stop his stupid leg from shaking. He hangs his head, still clutching your hand, and he allows a few tears to fall despite himself. He closes his eyes and focuses on the touch of you, calming down and slowing down his breaths knowing that you are here, alive and well, next to him.

When you wake up, Kaeya's head lies uncomfortably asleep with a disturbed expression on his face. Your hand is intertwined with his while you both were sleeping, seeking that familiar heat that made you feel ever better. He mumbles in his sleep, his grip tightening on your hand as often as his eyebrows furrow. Your touch soothes him, the tension and wrinkles on his face vanishes when you lovingly stroke his hair or gently caress his cheek. As long as he can feel your warmth, he can sleep much better.

He would either find it through his acquaintance in Mondstadt’s hospital or be told at the winery. 

It’s not pleasant either way, especially since there would be a period of unsettling silence after the metaphorical beans have been spilt

His interrogating is less subtle than Kaeya, very straight forward and to the point so he can get to where you are faster with preparation

Diluc uses the classic, intimidation method that is amplified by his resolve to see you and assure himself that you are safe

If you had a minor injury

You hear soft knocks on your door and a tentative voice asking from your lover, giving you a forewarning before he comes in. He doesn’t waste a second to be by your side, assessing your injury in closer detail then lightly scolding you out of the worry. It might take 2-6 minutes just for him to calm down and get it all out. Diluc is sensitive to your injuries, fearing the worst when anything happens, and he finds it childish; always trying to hide it with his lectures. This grumpy façade falls quickly, like always, after reassurance from you and inspecting your wellbeing with his own eyes. 

Diluc sighs, "...but it's a minor injury, and you’re Y/n L/n.” He smiles assuredly and it encourages you because of how confident he is of you.

He’ll cling to you, self-aware of his behaviour and evidently embarrassed about it, but does it nonetheless with pink cheeks. You pretend not to see when he hesitantly leans on you or when his hand lingers on yours while you both chat about everything else. Soon you’ll find him pecking your cheek or kissing you more than usual

“It’s to make you feel better.” He mumbles going in for another after you tease him about it. Kisses are one of the things he uses to be expressive for his love for you, so he becomes generous when you get hurt like this and gets more affectionate to hopefully “love” the pain away.

If you had a major injury

Diluc is shell shocked; colour draining from his face in favour of raw fear. He is reminded of the dreadful past and it toys with his heart, stringing it along to his vulnerability of you. He fails to fully grasp his thoughts but his legs move on their own to see you, to feel you and to know for sure that you're okay. He pushes and shoves through people in his way, silent to anyone that approaches. He finds it hard to breathe, maybe it's how he ran to the hospital or the tight cinching in his chest.

When he enters your room, he'll take in your form and process the injuries you've sustained. He looks more horrified and panicked the longer he looks. He beats himself over it and swallowing the growing shame in his throat. ‘How could I have let this happen?’ Past buried memories come alive and it gets harder for him to stay grounded. These things don’t go away easily, he knows from experience, and he’s afraid of the unknown future and of what will happen next. What if you don’t recover and... Bad thoughts choke him up and he wallows deeper into it.

But then you smile, like nothing is wrong; even though that small action took so much energy and you end up wincing in pain. Diluc looks heartbroken.

No moment is spared when he is next to you, he'll even fall on his knees and just, cry. It's like all this tension in his chest is released at once. It's scary, worrying even, and you start to wonder who's supposed to worry over who. You stroke his hair and mumble comforting words, his sobbing dissolves into embarrassed sniffles. He remarks on it, but you reassure him that it's endearing.

You both might fall asleep like that; your hand on his nest of hair and his head on the hospital bed. There are some times you wake up and see Diluc awake in cold sweats, tightly gripping on the covers of your bed, pale as a ghost in the night. He tells you to go back to sleep and rest, but you wait until he does. He guilty stares at you as you stay up, half-awake at 2am, about how it’s fine and how it’s going to be okay. He shakes his head and looks pitifully at you, flinching at your injuries - more effected than you are. It makes you upset and a little frustrated, so you sigh and reach out to him. He leans close and you kiss him on the forehead, expressing a passionate-believe me glare. Then he remembers that he trusts you, you are the Y/n he loves. He smiles gratefully, and when you wake up in the morning he is still snoring asleep. 

🌼💫 Hello, sorry for the inactivity, it’s just that I got quite stuck. But now it’s over and this is the result :) This is a very very long post, so I had to put a “keep reading” or else people uninterested would have to keep scrolling for 5 minutes. A reminder is that this is what I hc Diluc and Kaeya to act, it’s not definite and it’s fine if you disagree because this is imaginary and based on subjective perceptions. If you do enjoy these hcs, do check out my blog for more and tell me if you do!

[gryffindors-weasley]

Unexpected

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco is met with something unexpected one morning, something that changes his life for the better.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of the dark mark, angst, mentions of the war, anxiety, scars, fluff, kissing

Draco was sat peacefully on the back patio of your shared cottage, looking at the beauteous rolling hills just beyond the backyard and the vibrant flowers clustered all around the house. A fog had settled in the early dawn hours, blanketing everything in a cloudy haze. He was having his usual tea as he so often did when he had the chance. Though he usually liked to spend his free mornings wrapped up in your embrace, not that it was really an option because you always had a tough time letting him go. But he had been an early riser and he felt compelled to enjoy the quiet Sunday morning outside.

This hour was always the most peaceful, the only sound having been the doves cooing and the breeze blowing through leaves. Though as much as he loved the tranquility, he hated it all the same when his mind sat in silence for too long because it inevitably lead him astray. Everything came to haunt him eventually if he let himself be alone, it always does. It’s gotten better with time, though the war was still too fresh, everything was still too new for things to not creep up on him. In those moments when he felt he had enough, he’d come to you and things would lessen.

It was when he was sitting out there that morning that it had happened. A cat, fur colored with splotches and stripes of gray and black and white, had nonchalantly walked out from the blooming row of hydrangeas along the cozy home. It startled him immediately, nearly causing the hot tea to spill over the edge of his mug and onto his hand.

He uttered a soft curse into the air, any traces of sleep disappearing from his body as he watched the animal with a cautious glare. He was never really fond of cats, having never forgotten being swatted at harshly by Filch’s, followed by a very unfriendly hiss. Though he will admit it was almost certainly because he’d been taunting the poor feline. It was definitely the cause. Regardless, he hadn’t taken to them very well but was fortunate enough to keep from crossing paths with any, until now that is.

It inched closer to him, far closer than his liking and he found himself sitting a little straighter in his chair, scooting back a bit as if the action would help his cause.

“No, off you go,” Draco shoos softly, gesturing for it to go somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The cat had of course paid him no mind as it wound up at his feet, making figure-eights as it wove around his ankles and walked right overtop his bare feet. Every few moments it’d stop its movements and rub its whiskered face against his leg, sniffing him a bit as if to see if Draco had been a threat or not. Though he had thought the small creature was rather threatening. He’d fought in a wizarding war just seven years ago, he even had the most excruciating dark magic inflicted upon him to the brink of death, yet he feels this rather small cat just might be the death of him. Even more so at its next move.

The cat effortlessly leaps up onto his lap without a care in the world and a small gasp leaves his lips, his arms raising higher as the plump little animal leaves muddy paw prints on his pajama pants. He’s tense as the very tips of its hooked claws poke his thighs, but he makes no attempts to shoo it away this time. It’s a rather uncomfortable feeling, but he feels it’d be far worse if he tries to usher the animal off his lap, so he stays put much to his dismay.

“You’re rather bold, aren’t you?” He mutters softly, still cautiously stiff but not nearly as much as moments before.

It looks up at him at the sound of his voice, round green eyes seemingly sparkling up into his. Then, without warning, the cat nudges it’s pink nose against Draco’s. The action was abrupt and rather forceful, the friendly gesture smushing the tip of his nose and nearly causing his tea to spill over the ceramic edge again. He sets down the mug all together by that point, feeling another soft nudge to his cheek when he turns his head away briefly.

It was purring, that had to have been a good sign, right?

The remaining tension was starting to dissipate from his body as he realized the animal was rather fond of him. At least it seemed to be. A small smile pulled at his lips as he ran the tips of his fingers between its ears gently and hesitantly, the cat leaning into his touch almost instantly and pressing it’s paws on his bare chest to brush against him some more.

“You are bold. Quite like my girlfriend,” he chuckles, thinking fondly of you curled up in bed inside the house. A few minutes ago he’d been just short of petrified, and now he’s found himself talking to an animal that has absolutely no idea what he was even saying.

It settles back into his lap, perched on his thigh as it’s attention was promptly pulled to his arm, almost drawn to it. The small creature sniffed at the mark forever imprinted on his pale skin, one he’d rather not look at ever again if it were possible. He felt it had been bad enough that his chest was riddled with pale pink scars from a fateful encounter in his sixth year. In one way or another, there was always going to be something that would serve as a permanent reminder of his past decisions. They’ve faded considerably over the last few years, even the mark, having been inactive and weaker with the Dark Lord gone. He’s grateful for that, for its appearance to be less harsh and hard, he’d been grateful that it’s constant burning had since gone away. But regardless, it still remained and it still taunted him every time he spared a glance. He swears he can feel it from time to time.

It’s still one of his biggest regrets, one he nearly lost you over in more ways than one. You had almost left before he’d had a chance to explain himself, and even then you were wary. He didn’t blame you, it was perhaps one of the most vile things to be associated with in the wizarding world. But the conflict swirling around his every decision, the fear behind every confident string of words he spoke, was very evident. And you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

That’s the very reason he’d almost lost you once more. Your unwillingness to let the war conclude with him on the wrong side of that ruined courtyard proved to be one of the most dangerous things you could have done. It had showcased his true vulnerability for the entirety of the school to see as he quietly pleaded for you to stop speaking against the Dark Lord, to stop being so brave for just this once. But you hadn’t, you were unwavering and it had just barely worked out for the better. If he let his mind wander too far into what could have happened to you, the churning in his stomach would surely have made him sick.

His thoughts had been interrupted by a hiss, causing him to tense once more at the unfriendly sound. The cat had been focused on the swirling mark still, it’s back arched and ears pointed back defensively.

“I don’t like it either,” he sighs, turning his arm over in quiet humiliation.

At the sound of his voice, the feline’s attention is stolen completely, visibly relaxing once more as its soft purrs sounded again.

He had the nagging feeling to go inside and find his way back to you, if only to make sure you’d still been there. He felt it was the only thing that could ease his mind at that point because he wasn’t able to clear his head on his own any more. So, he carefully nudged the cat and it promptly hopped off his lap much to his surprise. However, the curious gaze was something he’d expected.

With a glance behind him, it had been quick to follow after his strides, taking two steps for every one Draco had taken to reach the back door.

“You can’t come inside,” he chuckles, though his words didn’t mean a single thing as the splotchy cat nearly pushed its way right between his ankles to do so. “Maybe some other time, alright?”

And with that, he closed the door behind him and set off to find you.

—

“Dray?” You call out curiously, turning to find him already seated at the small kitchen table.

He hummed into his mug tiredly as he took a sip of his morning coffee, and you took a seat on the edge of the wooden tabletop. A smile was tugging at your lips as you looked at him and he raised a curious brow.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why there’d be cat treats in the cupboard, would you?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest after you set the small bag down.

“I don’t believe I would,” he answers, hiding his smile behind another sip lengthy of his drink, though you didn’t miss the way the very tips of his ears burned pink as he eyed the bag. It was more than noticeable against pale shade his hair.

You squint at him in disbelief as you nod, amusement lacing your features and he knew in that very moment you wouldn’t let this go. So he sighed, resting his chin in his palm as he tried to remain stoic. If only for the sake of his own future embarrassment.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you laugh, running your fingers through the tangles of platinum dipping down over his forehead.

“I most certainly am not,” he argues. He may have been good at being deceptive with anyone else in the world, but with you, he didn’t stand a chance. He never did.

“I suppose this means a stranger has left a bowl of last nights dinner on the patio then,” you quip with a smirk, standing to your feet and turning to walk towards the back door.

A warm hand was quick to envelope your own and whisk you back into his chest with ease, a soft smile playing on his lips. Lips that press to yours sweetly in a valiant effort to pull your attention from your current curiosity to him instead. He thought it just might have been working when you settled you arms around his neck and relaxed against him, quieting you for a moment.

His kisses continued to the corner of your mouth, pressing sweetly to your flushed cheek and he couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he held you closer. You knew just what he’d been up to with this, he wasn’t terribly difficult to figure out, but you could let yourself bask in his affections for just a minute more. Or maybe two. A soft bout of laughter fell from your lips when his own had brushed over the underside of your jaw, a spot he knew all too well and the jovial sound made a warmth bloom across his chest. Perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing, but his attempts to distract you seemed to have had its hold on him more so than they had you.

“Draco,” you murmur, stifling your giggles as he lifts his head and looks at you briefly, breathlessly. You lean on your toes and find his lips once more, tasting his coffee and more prominently the cream and sugar, his soft laugh evident against your mouth as he melts into you. You always have that effect on him whether he admits it or not. “Nice try.”

He’s too caught up in a blissful daze to keep you from slipping out of his arms, leaving him to stare after you with kiss swollen lips and a racing heart as you skip to the back door. He soon comes to his senses, however, but he’s a moment too late as he watches you step outside the door.

“Darling wai—”

He cuts himself short at the sight of the portly little cat seated contently on the cracked stone patio, more so at the taunting smile you’d given him. One that softens when your gaze returns to the tricolored cat nudging it’s adorably fluffy face against your hand.

“I…I’ve never seen her,” he sputters as he scratches the back of his neck, internally kicking himself because how could he know that if he’d never seen her. His statement was further disproved when the friendly feline pauses her actions in favor of falling at Draco’s feet. It was his voice. The very sound of his voice never failed to capture her attention at any given moment.

She stares up at him expectantly with big green eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of the beloved owner she had so carefully chosen. He couldn’t deny the way his heart melted, or the soft smile fighting desperately to pull at his lips.

“What’s her name?”

“Pearl.”

His response was spoken without a lick of hesitancy and he’s quick to realize his mistake, eyes widening and cheeks flushing a pale scarlet. No amount of sweet talking or loving kisses could get him out of that one. He huffs out a sigh and bites the inside of his cheek as you laugh softly, a triumphant smile on your face and you cross your arms over your chest.

Eyes fluttering closed, he sighs softly and allows his shoulders to slump in his obvious defeat. Now the love of his life had the means to tease endlessly him over this, and he knew you’d take the opportunity with open arms. When he opens them again your smile is soft, and he feels the sweet creature looping around his feet again in hopes of gaining his affections. For that, he’s quick to bend over and scoop her up, and she assumes her rightful position in the crook of his arm. Her eyes fall closed in a matter of moments now, soft purrs escaping her as his thumb brushes along her face tenderly. He could deal with the pesky white fur clinging to his navy sweater later.

Your heart flutters in your chest at the precious sight, and you didn’t have it in you to tease him about it quite yet. That could wait. For now all you wanted to do was gaze at your love, who’d been cradling quite possibly the cutest cat you had ever seen. It was a sight you never expected to see, not after Crookshanks clawed him fiercely, and not after Filch’s cat had spat a hiss at him. You could have sworn he’d stay at least ten feet from the nearest fanged creature. But you supposed you were wrong in the best of ways.

“Can we keep her?” He asks softly after a while, blinking at you with pleading gray eyes.

There hadn’t been anything to think over at that point, not with the way she nestled into him with a certain familiarity that was too sweet to break. It was clear that Draco had grown attached, and she must have meant something to him because he’d never been keen on them, or any animal for that matter. It hadn’t been a question when he dipped down and planted a soft kiss on her head. Or at the sight of the blush pink bowls stolen from the kitchen cabinets, always full of food and water for the last two weeks. You’ve caught sight of the pudgy little animal in the gardens, and she’s undeniably sweet. It seems as though your answer was very clear.

“Of course we can,” you smile, and his mouth hangs agape as he looks up at you once more, almost in disbelief. “What? You couldn’t possibly think I’d say no, could you?”

The smile on his face is nothing short of adoring as he takes a moment to process your response. With careful movements, he sets Pearl down on the cushion of one of the lawn chairs gingerly much to her dismay, but she quickly lets it pass as she curls up with a yawn. He crosses the gap between the two of you in no more than two strides, taking your face in his hands before pressing his lips on yours. His tamed excitement had poured into every brush of his lips, one hand dropping from your cheek to snake around your waist and press you closer to him.

Draco wasn’t one to be outwardly expressive of his excitement, preferring to hold it in for fear of it being stolen from him if he lets it show. But it was easy to tell he’d been struggling to contain such a feeling, his kiss and loving embrace sending you stumbling backwards a step or two. He nearly swept you off your feet. He parted from your lips with the softest of grins, kissing you once, twice, three more times before a content sigh fans warmly across your lips.

“I love you, you know,” he nearly whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear as his eyes bounce between yours with sincerity.

You smile brightly, bumping his nose with your own as you find his lips again. Of course you knew. He might not have spoken it aloud as often as he felt like he should’ve, and when he did it was ever so quiet just for you to hear. But his actions always spoke louder than words. His kisses always assured you of such, not that you needed convincing.

“I do happen to know,” you breathe against his lips, laughing softly at the way they chased yours for more. “I love you, Draco.”

The moment of bliss within your own little world was soon interrupted by the softest of meows, little spotted paws standing firmly on Draco’s shoe. He let out a laugh and swept her up, her nose pressing to his cheek in an affectionate nudge. He found himself lucky to have not one, but two things to love, and they’re just as fond of him.

Draco doesn’t know how he’d deserved such a thing, but he’s promised himself to never let go of this unexpected joy.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @dracosaurusrex @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[shadowfae]

We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and  Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea. 

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents  but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers. 

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

[saltpepperbeard]

Fighting the Rain ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Oh? What’s this? *Cough hacks CHOKES on cobwebs* A one-shot after almost two years of inactivity? Who knew that over-caffeinating was the true key to motivation after all this time! But hello hello everyone! So very happy to be back. I come bearing a bit of Reverent Sweetness™ as a small exercise to hop back into things! I really wish for this energy to continue, and so I’ll be attempting to push myself into getting back into the swing of things.

For the record, I completely and wholeheartedly blame Andy and Cate for such an idea. And I do believe I’ve seen another tub-related piece that was also hanging around in my mind as I thought this up. Whatever the case, thank y’all; your talks and creations fINALLY FUELED ME lmao!

But for now, enjoy some simple Everlark rubadubdub, and without further adoooooo...

Fighting the Rain

No two days are the same, and no two hunts are created equal. Some glow with warmth and yield a plentiful harvest, while others fall into a category of melancholy and disappointment. Unfortunately, as the clouds build relentlessly overheard, my efforts seem to be leaning towards the latter.

My arrows drive into a frustrating nothingness. My pray scurry as if they have an oddly heightened sense of awareness. My attitude grows all the more frustrated and downtrodden. And almost as if to directly mock me, the sky cackles and booms before releasing an onslaught of cold moisture.

Great. I’m quite a ways from home, but close enough to hopefully beat a deluge should it chose to erupt. I hate departing emptyhanded, but don’t feel keen on pushing my luck further. Not when a kindling of annoyance burns within my chest, and the clouds answer back with further rumbling.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and dart with bow in hand, the various unused arrows clinking against my backside. The rain is chilling, biting my skin and hissing against the internal fire. Water is normally apt at putting out flames, but it only serves to amplify mine. My scowl deepens as I continue on, growing damper and colder by the minute.

Aside from the fire roaring in irritation, perhaps it burns for another reason. Perhaps it presents itself now as a yearn for warmth, for the feeling only he can provide. His arms have always been there to chase away the deepest of stings, so of course I would want him like nothing else now.

My step inadvertently quickens, the mental image of his embrace fueling me. A blessing and a curse; the sky groans above and opens up to completion, sending buckets of rain upon me. My desperate speed of course, points to an even extremer drenching effect, my scowl deepening something terrible as I’m quickly soaked to the bone. But in moving faster, in practically flying across the land, the entrance to the back porch quickly appears through the falling sheets.

I waste no time in careening up the steps, practically throwing myself into the house with a hissing groan. But I’m sure such sourness will be short-lived. Such dampness will likely turn anew. Such chilling sensations will be burned off, the embodiment of the sun coming forth to bestow his touch.

Or not.

On the contrary, I’m met with emptiness. Silence. Nothing more than the shivers coursing through my form, and the soft drips of water rolling off my soaked clothes.

My scowl, though now painted with confusion, deepens all the more. Was I too presumptuous? Knowing my current luck, he’s likely elsewhere: wrapped up in the Bakery, next door with Haymitch, or deep in the throes of a painting upstairs.

I shed my father’s hunting jacket, hanging the damp leather to dry before shrugging off my equally-wet bag. My arms come to lace across my chest, crossing in both self-comfort and simmering frustration. Though, my lungs are quick to rattle with a sigh. He’s not responsible for my happiness, and I know so. And I can manage well enough alone when I need to; I’m no stranger to the empty cold.

But God, he definitely helps. He’s everything and more on a rainy, relentless day. And with every hour, with every moment spent with him, it gets harder and harder to deny the growing draw. So used to solitude and survival, and yet now do I find myself wishing for warm company more often than not. How Spring has warmed the deepest reaches of my soul.

I’m about to let my hair down and poke my head out the door to wring it out, when the day continues to prove me wrong. Or maybe, my mental call is answered by the only one who can hear it. Whatever the case, cold limbs run warm and angered heart beats ginger as his voice unexpectedly manifests.

“Katniss?”

My sigh shifts to something of tender relief, blowing out a quivering breath as I feel the instant effects.

“Down here,” I call back.

My chest seems to pound in unison with his footsteps on the stairs. He has no idea, the effect he has. It’s like the dissatisfaction towards the day’s events instantly drains, washing away like the billowing spout outside. Made even more intense, of course, by him rounding the corner.

I should be used to this. This is something of normalcy now. And yet, my breath still manages to hitch, coupled with the stutter of my heart. As usual, he beats me to talking, grinning his endearing smile as his blue eyes lay upon me.

“Hi, my love-” His voice and the expression are short-lived; he must have gotten a proper look at my state. Yes, the widening and wandering of his eyes confirm it, as does the speed in which he reaches me.

“Oh...God, you’re soaked!”

“That obvious?” I grumble through the hairs plastered to my face, though twinges of amusement exist therein.

“A bit!” he softly chuckles, reaching up to brush said strands away. An action which, is unsurprisingly topped off with a kiss, a very tender one against my glistening forehead. In missing him, in wanting the mellowness from my flower, I move for more. I chase after his lips as they depart, quickly bringing forth my own. The tender connection causes me to contently sigh, particularly when I can feel him smiling. We hold each other in the gentle lock for a few ginger beats, before he pulls free- oddly looking sheepish.

I cock a brow at him, which seems to be enough to pry an explanation.

“Didn’t know it was supposed to rain today. Really ah...puts a damper on my plans.”

I roll my eyes at what appears to be a pun, and he laughs a bit before grabbing the back of his neck. I cannot help but pry further.

“Plans?”

“Yeah...”

He puts on the shy smile which likely stole my heart all those years ago, and looks down in the direction of our feet.

“I ah...Drew you a bath. Thought you would like it after a long morning of hunting. Seems kind of counterintuitive now though.”

There it goes, the departure of every ounce of cold, of negativity. Akin to Spring melting the deepest reaches of Winter, easing the snow into the Earth and drawing forth blooms. I’m sure his thoughtfulness will never cease to soften me into awe. And, though it seemed impossible years ago, what with all the roadblocks and challenges that stood in our way, I’m sure my love will never stop heightening.

I find myself hushed into an affectionate silence, my cheeks blushing all the while. Before he can doubt the validity of his decision though, or doubt himself to any other degree, I leap back to him once more. My mouth dusts across his tender cheek first, before selfishly seeking out another caress of his lips.

“No,” I assure when we finally break, “No. That sounds nice.”

“Really? Fighting dampness with dampness?”

“Well, yeah. One is awful, cold, and from rain, and the other is inviting, warm, and from you.”

I’m surprised, though absolutely not, to see a glint flash through his shyness, his smile turning a bit more crooked to match.

“Hmm. Not yet it’s not.”

I roll my eyes and give his chest a playful shove. He of course laughs, and softly grabs my wrists, pulling me close for yet another kiss. I sigh against him, falling all the more into a state of contentment. Unsurprisingly, a trio of relatively new words present themselves on my tongue. Though, in yearning for Peeta, in having my heart beat deeper and faster for him day by day, their utterance feels more and more natural.

“I love you...” I whisper for him to capture, “Thank you.”

He grins so hard our connection breaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush, effectively triggering mine all the same.

“I love you too. Now go ahead- can’t have the bathwater turning into sitting rainwater.”

I let out a huff of mirth, and give one last parting kiss before taking him up on his offer. There’s a small bit of apprehension towards leaving him so soon, but I remind myself that this was his doing. The warm water will carry his essence, surely, ushering me away from all the troubles of the morning.

And so I walk up the stairs towards our bathroom, humming softly as I envision what awaits. Dampness to fight dampness indeed; I’m met with a plume of steam when I open the door. But quite quickly, it proves to be a far better option than that of outside.

Unlike the rain which chased me away, this draws me deeper into the bathroom. The steam is like a warm blanket, or a hug from Peeta, wrapping around my slightly shivering form. When I inhale deep enough, it seems like I catch notes of something floral- lavender, maybe? All the more thoughtful of him to doctor it up so.

My cheeks flush, and I quickly rid myself of my soaked garments, plopping them into a wet heap on the tile. My skin is quick to pimple from the biting air, so I’m even faster to slip into the beckoning tub.

And I cannot hush the contented moan that slips from my lips. It’s wonderful. Heated just so, smelling so sweet. My eyes roll shut with a sigh, and I poise myself to slip deeper into the watery embrace. That is, until the day continues on with its ever-changing events. That is, until a jostling of the doorknob halts my movements and breaks the relaxed trance.

Out of pure reflex, I draw my knees up towards my chest, hugging myself and hiding my body away. An action birthed from years of apprehension, and one that immediately unravels at the sight to follow.

Because it’s Peeta, of course it’s Peeta.

But the unexpected element is that he too, stands completely bare, all of him on displayed for my stunned, flustered eyes. I find his own first, and though he’s grinning, I can see that same shyness playing across his features. Much to my blushing dismay, my gaze cannot help but drift to the space I’ve become recently acquainted with. It’s still so new to the both of us that the hitch of my breath is answered by one in return. Warmth seems to travel to more than one place as I gaze at him, though my grey stare wanders to where it’s most prominent, his cheeks utterly rosy with red.

He shifts himself a bit then, looking down and snickering softly before catching my eye once more.

“Too much?”

A shiver rolls down my spine. I’m not sure what he has planned, but I have a feeling I won’t be opposed to anything he brings forth. Thus, I’m entirely earnest as I shake my head, releasing my knees fully.

“No,” I murmur, giving my lips a quick lick.

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Already seem pretty prepped to do so.”

He laughs his beautiful laugh, before blue interlocks tightly with grey. In knowing he’s silently asking for permission, a nodding gesture of my head brings him forward. I watch as he walks towards my backside, and I believe I’ve placed his intention. I slide forward a bit then, allowing him space to slip in behind me, should he choose to do so.

Sure enough, he does, momentarily sitting on the tub’s lip to unclasp his prosthetic before sliding in, the water sloshing a bit and rising from the introduction of another body. And, of course, it seemingly grows warmer, his form, his raw form, utterly reaching the depths of my being.

It’s ridiculous, considering he’s gone where no one else has, but I find myself somewhat timid. Maybe because it’s yet another new form of intimacy. I never really considered so many existing aside from the more carnal ones, but Peeta continues to surprise me. And where I find myself unsure, he also is there to softly guide me.

His warm hands gently slip to grasp my shoulders, and with a gentle tug, he ushers me to lean back against him. I don’t protest in the slightest, venturing back with his grasp and gasping ever so slightly when skin meets skin.

It’s different. Our bodies have been unified before of course, tangled and messy and desperate. But this is...different. It’s vulnerable, it’s tender, and it’s...comforting.

It’s everything. Just as he is.

My thoughts momentarily blip back to the former however, when I feel...him wedged between us. I squirm a bit, my breath hitching as more intense thoughts threaten to invade. But the more I feel, the more I lay against him, the more I realize that he’s relaxed.

And that it’s simply us. All that we are, together.

The thought settles me, and I sigh as I fully melt against him. Every bit of tension saps from my body, and my form seems to meld perfectly into his. His head comes forward to nestle against mine, and I can feel him smiling, the heat evident as he nuzzles and offers the occasional kiss.

I’m back to humming, back to closing my eyes, utterly slipping away like he intended, like I wanted. I had felt almost selfish before, wanting this so badly. But then again, it was nigh impossible not to; it does exactly the intended purpose. I’m ushered to plane where it’s just he and I, where nothing bad exists. I’m taken to a place of pure warmth, of pure love, everything else falling away.

As blissfully lost as I am, I of course have no choice but to vocalize once more.

“I love you so much...”

His turn to hum, as if he’s absorbing and ingesting such sacred words. But all the same, he presses a kiss to my cheek before returning the sentiments.

“And I love you...”

I’m prepped to simply drift away, waiting for my body to become so relaxed that I doze off against his chest. He denies me the opportunity though, but I don’t complain, his fingers coming up to nestle into my messy braid.

“May I?”

When I nod, he begins to softly unravel the intertwined strands. An easier task than usual, as the rain and running left it loose. I give my head a gentle shake when I feel it entirely unwind, fully freeing the waves of darkened ebony.

“Beautiful...” I hear him whisper, and before I have a chance to respond, before I can really even process, his fingers venture in further, sifting through swaths of black to dance atop my scalp.

Any crinkle of my nose towards his compliment instantly dies with such an action. He rubs, massages, the pads of his fingers driving me into an entirely different state of bliss. How is he able to do this? How can he affect me so? How can he drive my body and soul to places unthinkable?

I guess if anyone could be able to do it, it would definitely be Peeta. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I fall even deeper, my skin sliding against his as I descend a bit into the water. He snickers softly, but continues on with the massage. Or wash, perhaps? I think I can smell even stronger notes of flora and sweetness. Whatever the case, I can barely think, barely process, utterly mollified and melting.

So much so that I think my chin eventually brushes the water’s surface, effectively snapping me back into reality. With it, comes a hint of something else. Further selfishness? Guilt? Desire to return? Either way, my whisper breaks through the gentle steam.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like...We need to switch places. Take turns.”

His fingers momentarily halt, before he laughs and continues on.

“No. No no- this is more than enough for me. It’s perfect.”

“But-”

“Just enjoy it, love,” he murmurs, “Really. I’m just...happy to be here with you.”

So sweet, sugary sweet, sweeter than the confectionaries he specializes in. Surely something that would have earned a tense scowl years ago; now it draws forth a ghost of a smile. It makes me want to consider the journey, the steps we’ve taken to come to this very moment. But in the delightful erasure, all the pain and hurt is numbed, cast aside in the eyes of our affection.

What it fails to erase however, is my want to be stubborn, my need to please in return. Though blips of meekness still linger, shyness still evident amidst my cheeks, the former drives me and overrides. With a bit of difficulty in the porcelain space, I pivot around to face Peeta, connecting our stares with my smile running to a playful scowl.

Though there’s a slightly confused lift to his brows, he’s grinning immensely, an expression that acts as magnetism between our mouths. I kiss him for just a moment before carrying on with the intended plan. Just as he had done with me, I reach up with both hands, curling my fingers through his ashy blonde locks. I hear him shakily sigh, though the silence it what truly drives me onward; no argument is being made.

My pads nestle deep into his hair, softly rubbing and massaging like he had done for me. It’s lovely, returning the sentiments, returning the newly found intimacy. Unfortunately though, in doing so, I fail to recognize the more prominent form, the more familiar.

Perhaps it’s Peeta’s shaky hand that comes to rest at the small of my back, or the realization that such a position has put him directly at eyelevel with a more than desirable part of me- at least to him. I subsequently bite my lip, blush, and halt at the thought, slipping back to my previous perch.

Sure enough, when I pull away to get a look at his face, the flush to his cheeks and flare to his nostrils paint the correct picture.

“Too much?” I ask, parroting his opening question from earlier.

“Hmm, uh, a test of will perhaps, yes,” he replies with a shaky laugh.

It’s my turn to snicker, reaching to gently cup his face with a hand.

“Sorry. Might make this take a different turn.”

“I mean, it could, if you wanted,” Peeta murmurs, his grin turning crooked once more.

I let out a huff of mirth, softly shaking my head.

“Seems inevitable. But I dunno...I do like this.”

Peeta’s smile shifts back to a warmer tonality, pivoting his face to kiss my hand a kiss before responding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m just...happy to be here with you. Always.”

His words repeated off my tongue are perhaps more loving and beneficial than the stroke of my fingers; he lights up like the sun, burning away the fog between us as his sapphire eyes sparkle.

“Always,” he reaffirms with a whisper, giving my hand another kiss before continuing, “Whatever you’d like then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Whether I nestle up against his chest, lay back against him once again, or get ravished atop towels on the bathroom floor, the thick clouds of steam refuse to reveal. Whether they remain entirely chaste and grey, or heated and dripping, they encapsulate us, locking us away from the morning, from the bad.

Just as he does for me, and how I hopefully do in turn. 

Oh, how life is simpler, more bearable. How the negatives turn into things so much more desirable. And how humorous is it that I find myself longing to get caught out in the rain once more.

[heliosrisingheroesimagines]

AAAA I love your blog sm!! lowkey inspiring me to make a helios blog as well but shhh~~ Anyways!! I’d like to request Gray and Will with 💚💜♡ prompts please!! TY ILYYY

Gray Reverse: 

💚 = Does your muse get jealous easy?

Gray gets jealous of situations but never because of your own actions, more because these situations arise from his inaction. He wished he could be confident enough to spout off some cool guy line and take some damage for you, he wished he had all the right things to say stored away in his brain for when you were having a bad day, but he felt nothing but inept when it came to caring for you. Hell, in many ways he felt he couldn’t even care for himself so his jealousy often makes him spiral into a depression, worried that he’s only proving he’s not good enough for you with no ideas on how to make it better.

💜 = Does your muse date others based on their appearance or personality, or both?

Gray doesn’t think he gets to be picky with looks but anyone who looked too aggressive, even if they weren’t, would scare him off right away. But if they’re the type of person who talked to him anyway and who showed him who they truly were then he’d give them a chance because personality mattered more than what they looked like. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting someone super cute at your side but it was so subjective he didn’t think his own standard of beauty matched anyone else’s; as long as he felt you were beautiful then what did it matter to anyone else?

♡ = Is there any kind of person that your muse will never date?

Anyone who reminds him of Asch. Anyone who speaks over him or who disrespects him will gain his silent ire but he doesn’t verbalize most of his feelings. He really just wants the most basic things in his relationships and he doesn’t even feel like he deserves the good moments at times but he needs someone who’s willing to show that he does indeed deserve to be pampered. 

Will Sprout: 

💚 = Does your muse get jealous easy?

Will knows it’s selfish but he wanted to be the person you turned to for most things, the one you truly trusted, so he can get jealous over certain things that really don’t mean anything. Confiding something in someone else without telling him about it is a surefire why to annoy him and while he hated feeling this way, he rarely brought it up and instead would just give the cold shoulder until things worked themselves out. His jealousy feels childish in many ways and he’s aware that he’s not always in the right which is why he tried not to take it out on you, but he was only human and sometimes he deserved to be reassured too.

💜 = Does your muse date others based on their appearance or personality, or both?

Will can pretty confidently say he would date based more on personality than looks, and his answer was completely genuine. The way someone looked hardly factored into their soul and that’s what Will wanted to see more than anything, thinking there can be beauty in anyone. He’s always willing to talk to and get to know people regardless of how their attractiveness is rated, his kind heart always shining through even if he doesn’t feel a connection with them.  

♡ = Is there any kind of person that your muse will never date?

Will doesn’t think there’s specific types of people he wouldn’t date, it was just a matter of their personal interactions that would determine whether Will would want to date them or not. He’s not the super judgmental type but he can be stubborn when he does dislike something you’ve done or said, to the point it could ruin things between you if he can’t bring himself to forgive you. There are certain instances where this makes sense but for others it can be hard to get where he’s coming from and he doesn’t always appear willing to explain.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

bittersweet netflix shadow and bone finale (s1 e8) rewatch; accoutrement: white wine with ice cubes in it (no YOU'RE a mom drink shh)

my wine's like fruity I love her

light and darkness title card we love to see it

Inej looking at Alina before she goes below deck to hide <3

okay that 'what can you really do on your own' was like not fun that shit hurted

okay but Jesper's 'not enough'? <3

oh no my baby Zoya's first inkling that Darkles does not really care

omg Helnik just appeared and I remembered how much heartbreak I have to face in this episode

gods I love Danielle as Nina so so much

'this can't be it' said she with her pleading smile with downturned eyebrows MA'AM I-

don't break my dumb little heart

I might hate Calahan's little accent but they're making me tear up

oh gods I literally cannot keep a hold on myself when Dani's accent bleeds through with full force, it's like she comes more alive or smth

'I will keep you warm' SIR WHAT-

I am surprised they showed a leaning in for a kiss so soon but I'm not mad about it

her little eyebrow twitch at 'what are waffles'

when that rando said 'i hunt slavers now' a dread settled into me because I knew what was about to go down

Matthias looking somberly at the stuffed wolf's head </3

I am so incredibly entranced by this exchange between Fedyor and Nina and what it represents, it's very interesting that they pushed up their storyline to match with the timeline

damn it's kind of jarring to be back in the Fold

'REMEMBER WHO'S DRIVING'??!!!! *you better stop* meme, *i am, disgusted* meme, *oh wow, oh wow* meme

Mal you fucking idiot you could never take the crows by surprise

the music rising as Kaz starts explaining his thought process, fucking perfection

haha Mal bitchass Inej caught you

'Because if he isn't with Kirigan's crew, he's with ours' WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED

'And why would we destroy the Fold? It's the greatest weapon we've got' valid point at the moment but you know I don't necessarily agree with your methods

the use of the light tunnel in the show instead of Alina just being a super flashlight in the books is quite an interesting addition as well

is this an inappropriate time to point out how pretty Ben Barnes is

okay I kind of love the depiction of the shadow powers okay sue me

'they are traitors who tried to kill you' why are you suddenly making valid points despite having kind of committed low scale genocide

'i never said I was smart' YES MAL BE THE VOICE OF HIMBOS EVERYWHERE

Kaz's face going from 'can you believe this idiot' at Mal to 'fuck me I'm gonna do the same thing aren't I' at Inej

'For who would oppose us now?' *himbo romantic rival appears out of nowhere and shoots at him* god I love this show

him standing calmly in his ridiculous all black attire after nodding at his soldier to stop the himbo in his tracks, i fucking can't

could she summon light without the Darkling making her after he put the collar on her until the uhm moment in the books? idts but in the show she can hmm

'only because I'm not in the game' you tell him Jesper

not me snickering at 'you'll be seen not as a saviour, but as a heretic' LMFAO

'Shame. I'll have to give that speech again now.' THIS SHOW IS A FUCKING COMEDY AND YOU CAN'T PROVE ME WRONG

YES LET'S FUCKING GO SULI SOLIDARITY

Darkles casually whipping the Cut out like a shuriken or a throwing knife at Jesper because he shot at him lmao I can't

INEJ FUCKING GHAFA STABBED ONE THE OLDEST AND MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE IN THAT WORLD AND THAT IS VERY TELLING OF HER POWER

that moment where you actually think that affected him despite having read the books and watched the show

and then he has to go and fucking say 'it will take more than this' and I can't be help but be a little bit impressed at this old fool's resilience

throwback to when he said 'the king is a child' sir you make some valid points sometimes and it does make it difficult to hate you

I would just like to inform everyone that it is currently 6:09 am IST and I am sipping my second mug of wine while watching netflix sab for the second time instead of doing my three papers that are due tomorrow

I'm sorry but Inej jumping to check on Zoya after she gets knocked over by the volcra? first class display of solidarity and sisterhood as well as Inej's inherent kindness

Kaz jumping in front of a FUCKING VOLCRA AND STABBING IT WITH HIS CANE to save Inej, you best believe love is true, kids

god the volcra are so ugly and gross, they did such a good job with them

they kind of remind me of these creatures (I think they might have been called Hollows or smth) from the Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children movie

STAG VISION TIME

despite my dislike for the callous nature with which the stag plotline was handled, I kind of dig the stag vision scene

'It's just me and you now, Alina. And we're all we need, anyway.' I actually feel bad for this old fool simping for this wonderful gorgeous powerful woman despite lying to her and manipulating her and exploiting her power

okay 'I never needed you' *stabs the bone fragment out of his hand* beautiful power move I fucking love you so so much

alright ben looking like ✨ that✨ not only in physical pain but also emotional pain at what the Darkling clearly considers another betrayal from this girl he wants to give the world and maybe? loves? maybe? or at least has feelings for makes my fucking heart hurt while simultaneously soar at Alina taking back control and reclaiming her power as her own and stepping into her own

'how do you claim such power' okay could have had better dialogue there writers

the fucking score lifting as she says 'you cannot claim what was not given to you' good people my heart is full

one day I'll talk about my defense of the chosen one trope because god damn I kind of love it

hmm I wonder was that brief hesitation that we saw on Alina's face due to her thinking about the 'you chose to betray our people' comment or the 'i was trying to save us' comment because that will define some of her actions in the later seasons (hopefully god if we get some, I honestly don't know what with this stupid brownface debacle)

I'm not saying talking about brownface and pointing out that it is wrong (for further context, I am actually brown) and harmful is stupid btw I'm talking about the incidents involving brownface in question

I don't wanna talk about this anymore but I might feel like I need to and end up posting about it idk

goodness Ivan actually believing in this cause makes me so sad because he too has been victimized by the system that ostracizes Grisha and he has every right to feel the way that he does

Ben actually fighting in that ridiculously heavy cloak and kefta when he's about to turn 40 this year makes me super impressed because I as a 19 year old sometimes wake up with muscle pulls after weeks of inactivity it's weird idk

also I understand that this Mal Darkling fight is completely fanservice and serves nearly no purpose to the plot in general but like I? love it?

'I don't have to kill you Darkling. Your past will do it for me' YES HIMBO GO OFF YOU TELL THAT OLD MAN GODS THAT WAS SEXY AS FUCK

maybe it's because I know Darkles will survive and will come out of it more powerful but I can't get myself to feel bad for him at the moment

Inej and Mal tearing up at Alina's condition made me almost feel something despite it being super obvious she was gonna be fine and save their asses at the last moment

HER POWER

a solitary Kaz in spotted on the western side of the newly expanded fold in his signature all black emo boy look

okay but the crows with zoya and malina is such an adorable team? I literally love them so much?

INEJ'S FUCKING SMILE AT ALINA GIVING HER THE DAGGER AND KAZ LOOKING AT HER AGSGSGSHSJSJSK MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE

SHE KNOWS JUST WHAT TO NAME IT WELL GIRLIE I KNOW IT TOO AND MY FUCKING HEART IS LITERALLY GONNA BURST

okay I know they had one interaction but Mal and Jesper would be besties in another universe

Kaz glaring at Jesper when he answers ''course not' to Alina's 'will you still be trying to kidnap me?' tell me one fucking adaptation that got the dynamics between characters this perfectly

okay why do I love that Alina kept the jewellery as maybe a small nod to she has the wits to, um, you know, I don't wanna say steal, but, um, yeah, steal it because she knew she would need money to survive on the run

oh Jessie I love you so much I wish you hadn't said those things on you ig story about the brownface

it's like every single celeb I grow attached to god's like nope that one is going to do or say something problematic (hey btw im not reassigning blame to god for stuff people have done out of their own free will, 'twas a joke)

AAAAAAAH them saying 'the deal is the deal' in the show even though they didn't have to but like they did and I love them for it

Inej literally not being able to not stare at Kaz's face and smile after this <3

'I didn't expect it to burn at all. But it can be destroyed in the end. Just like him' babe you're not wrong but like um just you wait

god Mal being on supportive boyfie mode is well, absolutely adorable, obviously, but I wish we got to see more of him as a person outside of his attachment to Alina

kaz my little demjin I wish you hadn't have had to suffer so much to meet the crows and find your calling

fastforwarding Zoya's arc is also an interesting choice to me

I wish the hug hadn't been done though, it didn't feel earned

maybe Alina awkwardly and half-heartedly (remember, at this point the alliance is fresh and they still don't entirely trust each other) reached for a hug and Zoya avoided her? and then the rest of Zoya's lines followed? that would have made more sense to me at least

I love Sujaya as well, she brought life into Zoya with whatever little screentime and scraps of writing she got

inej asking kaz 'what's your angle?' beep bop bleep morp I sense another incoming embarrassing love confession

'but we do need you' *stares at her face intensely* 'I need you' ah look at the clock, look's like it's time to screech and flap your arms like you're a volcra because you're incapable of containing your emotions

NO YOU CAN'T GO DIRECTLY FROM KANEJ PROGRESS TO HELNIK BREAKUP (TEMPORARY, MIND YOU)

helnik my loves you don't deserve this I'm so sorry for both of you

Matthias fucking smiling ruefully while he says 'this was... just a cruel joke all along' THIS IS NOT FUCKING OKAY

omg hellgate

AAAAAAAAH NINA IS ON THE SAME FRAME AS THE OG CROWS I CAN'T HANDLE THIS

CAMERA PAN FROM KAZ SAYING 'JUST HOW THIS ALL STARTED... WE'RE GONNA NEED A HEARTRENDED' TO NINA OVERHEARING HIM AND LOOKING OVER?????!!!!!! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING THIS TO ME?!

Nina genuinely being curious as to the status of the sun saint because she obviously still cares

Also, 'But she is a Saint' okay Kaz trying to earn brownie points you have succeeded

DID THAT SAILOR JUST SAY 'GOED MORGEN FENTOMEN' TO MALINA BECAUSE I AM NOT OKAY WITH THEM JUST THROWING THAT IN MY FACE ALL OF A SUDDEN

gods I know I'll probably see them again but my heart is full of sorrow as my eyes drink in the sight of my crows for the last time for a while

I know people were annoyed at the meadow flashbacks but guess what? as a darklina, I loved them

'now that the Darkling is dead' could have phrased that a little differently my dudes that line needed to hold more weight

am I glad that they showed Darkles in this state with his nichevo'ya as a tasty little cliffhanger despite not being entirely true to the source material? maybe but only because Ben Barnes saying 'follow' and the nichevo'ya doing exactly so sent a chill down my spine

well, that's it for now, I'll have to move on I guess, get back to my real life which I'm obviously not ready to do

thank you to whoever actually read these things

I probably should have just made reactions or commentary videos instead but I'm lazy

my tumblr will probably go into inactivity once more as I emerge from my stint in the grishaverse

it was quite short (less than 2 months), considering the length of my other obsessions but it was definitely more intense than the other ones

[weil-weil-lautre]

By Jonathan Franzen September 8, 2019

“There is infinite hope,” Kafka tells us, “only not for us.” This is a fittingly mystical epigram from a writer whose characters strive for ostensibly reachable goals and, tragically or amusingly, never manage to get any closer to them. But it seems to me, in our rapidly darkening world, that the converse of Kafka’s quip is equally true: There is no hope, except for us.

I’m talking, of course, about climate change. The struggle to rein in global carbon emissions and keep the planet from melting down has the feel of Kafka’s fiction. The goal has been clear for thirty years, and despite earnest efforts we’ve made essentially no progress toward reaching it. Today, the scientific evidence verges on irrefutable. If you’re younger than sixty, you have a good chance of witnessing the radical destabilization of life on earth—massive crop failures, apocalyptic fires, imploding economies, epic flooding, hundreds of millions of refugees fleeing regions made uninhabitable by extreme heat or permanent drought. If you’re under thirty, you’re all but guaranteed to witness it.

If you care about the planet, and about the people and animals who live on it, there are two ways to think about this. You can keep on hoping that catastrophe is preventable, and feel ever more frustrated or enraged by the world’s inaction. Or you can accept that disaster is coming, and begin to rethink what it means to have hope.

Even at this late date, expressions of unrealistic hope continue to abound. Hardly a day seems to pass without my reading that it’s time to “roll up our sleeves” and “save the planet”; that the problem of climate change can be “solved” if we summon the collective will. Although this message was probably still true in 1988, when the science became fully clear, we’ve emitted as much atmospheric carbon in the past thirty years as we did in the previous two centuries of industrialization. The facts have changed, but somehow the message stays the same.

Psychologically, this denial makes sense. Despite the outrageous fact that I’ll soon be dead forever, I live in the present, not the future. Given a choice between an alarming abstraction (death) and the reassuring evidence of my senses (breakfast!), my mind prefers to focus on the latter. The planet, too, is still marvelously intact, still basically normal—seasons changing, another election year coming, new comedies on Netflix—and its impending collapse is even harder to wrap my mind around than death. Other kinds of apocalypse, whether religious or thermonuclear or asteroidal, at least have the binary neatness of dying: one moment the world is there, the next moment it’s gone forever. Climate apocalypse, by contrast, is messy. It will take the form of increasingly severe crises compounding chaotically until civilization begins to fray. Things will get very bad, but maybe not too soon, and maybe not for everyone. Maybe not for me.

Some of the denial, however, is more willful. The evil of the Republican Party’s position on climate science is well known, but denial is entrenched in progressive politics, too, or at least in its rhetoric. The Green New Deal, the blueprint for some of the most substantial proposals put forth on the issue, is still framed as our last chance to avert catastrophe and save the planet, by way of gargantuan renewable-energy projects. Many of the groups that support those proposals deploy the language of “stopping” climate change, or imply that there’s still time to prevent it. Unlike the political right, the left prides itself on listening to climate scientists, who do indeed allow that catastrophe is theoretically avertable. But not everyone seems to be listening carefully. The stress falls on the word theoretically.

Our atmosphere and oceans can absorb only so much heat before climate change, intensified by various feedback loops, spins completely out of control. Some scientists and policymakers fear that we’re in danger of passing this point of no return if the global mean temperature rises by more than two degrees Celsius (maybe more, but also maybe less). The I.P.C.C.—the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change—tells us that, to limit the rise to less than two degrees, we not only need to reverse the trend of the past three decades. We need to approach zero net emissions, globally, in the next three decades.

This is, to say the least, a tall order. It also assumes that you trust the I.P.C.C.’s calculations. New research, described last month in Scientific American, demonstrates that climate scientists, far from exaggerating the threat of climate change, have underestimated its pace and severity. To project the rise in the global mean temperature, scientists rely on complicated atmospheric modelling. They take a host of variables and run them through supercomputers to generate, say, ten thousand different simulations for the coming century, in order to make a “best” prediction of the rise in temperature. When a scientist predicts a rise of two degrees Celsius, she’s merely naming a number about which she’s very confident: the rise will be at least two degrees. The rise might, in fact, be far higher.

As a non-scientist, I do my own kind of modelling. I run various future scenarios through my brain, apply the constraints of human psychology and political reality, take note of the relentless rise in global energy consumption (thus far, the carbon savings provided by renewable energy have been more than offset by consumer demand), and count the scenarios in which collective action averts catastrophe. The scenarios, which I draw from the prescriptions of policymakers and activists, share certain necessary conditions.

The first condition is that every one of the world’s major polluting countries institute draconian conservation measures, shut down much of its energy and transportation infrastructure, and completely retool its economy. According to a recent paper in Nature, the carbon emissions from existing global infrastructure, if operated through its normal lifetime, will exceed our entire emissions “allowance”—the further gigatons of carbon that can be released without crossing the threshold of catastrophe. (This estimate does not include the thousands of new energy and transportation projects already planned or under construction.) To stay within that allowance, a top-down intervention needs to happen not only in every country but throughout every country. Making New York City a green utopia will not avail if Texans keep pumping oil and driving pickup trucks.

The actions taken by these countries must also be the right ones. Vast sums of government money must be spent without wasting it and without lining the wrong pockets. Here it’s useful to recall the Kafkaesque joke of the European Union’s biofuel mandate, which served to accelerate the deforestation of Indonesia for palm-oil plantations, and the American subsidy of ethanol fuel, which turned out to benefit no one but corn farmers.

Finally, overwhelming numbers of human beings, including millions of government-hating Americans, need to accept high taxes and severe curtailment of their familiar life styles without revolting. They must accept the reality of climate change and have faith in the extreme measures taken to combat it. They can’t dismiss news they dislike as fake. They have to set aside nationalism and class and racial resentments. They have to make sacrifices for distant threatened nations and distant future generations. They have to be permanently terrified by hotter summers and more frequent natural disasters, rather than just getting used to them. Every day, instead of thinking about breakfast, they have to think about death.

Call me a pessimist or call me a humanist, but I don’t see human nature fundamentally changing anytime soon. I can run ten thousand scenarios through my model, and in not one of them do I see the two-degree target being met.

To judge from recent opinion polls, which show that a majority of Americans (many of them Republican) are pessimistic about the planet’s future, and from the success of a book like David Wallace-Wells’s harrowing “The Uninhabitable Earth,” which was released this year, I’m not alone in having reached this conclusion. But there continues to be a reluctance to broadcast it. Some climate activists argue that if we publicly admit that the problem can’t be solved, it will discourage people from taking any ameliorative action at all. This seems to me not only a patronizing calculation but an ineffectual one, given how little progress we have to show for it to date. The activists who make it remind me of the religious leaders who fear that, without the promise of eternal salvation, people won’t bother to behave well. In my experience, nonbelievers are no less loving of their neighbors than believers. And so I wonder what might happen if, instead of denying reality, we told ourselves the truth.

First of all, even if we can no longer hope to be saved from two degrees of warming, there’s still a strong practical and ethical case for reducing carbon emissions. In the long run, it probably makes no difference how badly we overshoot two degrees; once the point of no return is passed, the world will become self-transforming. In the shorter term, however, half measures are better than no measures. Halfway cutting our emissions would make the immediate effects of warming somewhat less severe, and it would somewhat postpone the point of no return. The most terrifying thing about climate change is the speed at which it’s advancing, the almost monthly shattering of temperature records. If collective action resulted in just one fewer devastating hurricane, just a few extra years of relative stability, it would be a goal worth pursuing.

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 04 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 4.8k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

a/n: a repost of my old fic!

You [6:36 pm] I won’t be in class today, sorry…

Hani [6:38 pm] Wait, what? Are you sure? We have a test coming up soon...

Hani [6:39 pm] Is everything okay?

You [6:40 pm] Oh yeah, I’m totally fine. I just got a cold over the weekend.

Because of a certain someone, you cough into the glaring phone screen which buzzes with yet another incoming text.

Hani [6:40 pm] Ay… why are you always so careless about your health.

Hani [6:41 pm] Alright, well, make sure you get lots and lots of rest!

Hani [6:41 pm] Don’t worry about today, I’ll head over tomorrow to hand you my notes.

It’s times like these that you wonder what you had ever done in your past life to be blessed with friends like Hani and Junghwa, but considering how you’ve also been cursed with the boy that is named Jung Hoseok, you’re not sure if you’ve once led a courageous or cowardice life. Nonetheless, you smile to yourself in bed, stricken with a cold only you and him know the cause of, and you plan to keep it that way.

You [6:43 pm] Thanks, you’re the best. Tell Junghwa I said hi and that I’m sorry!

Hani [6:44 pm] Oh, don’t worry… I will… and when I do, you’ll hear her screaming from all the way back home.

Snorting at her remark—which is hardly an exaggeration—you toss your phone to the side of your bed and plop back down to sink into the abyss of your mattress and, hopefully, slumber; but unlike the wishes you’ve planned for your progress towards recuperation, sleep does not come to you as easily as you had hoped for it to. And it’s not because of your constant blowing of nose, only to have it stuffed again the second you lie back down, or the shuffling in bed to stimulate some warmth into your freezing hands that keeps you up, but it’s the flashbacks of that night from just a couple of days ago that continues to burn in the back of your mind and keeps you awake.

-

“What’re you talking about?” you scoff. “Me? In love with you? There has to be something wrong with you.”

“Really?” his vacant hand cups his chin in thought as the other handles the steering wheel with utter ease, and even though his carefree stance should be something to worry over, you can’t help but admit how oddly enticing he looks; one hand on the wheel and another running through his drenched bangs which framed his facial features, including his sharp jawline and the bump of his Adam’s apple, everything from his relaxed posture to the dark look of his eyes when he whips his head to throw a quick glance—or more accurately, a smirk—strikes an urge of desire you ironically want to disown. Allured by the glow of his honey tan skin and the soft, red lips of his under the streetlights which zooms past through the night sky looming above, you’re just barely able to catch his next words. “Then explain why you’re always staring at me like that.”

“Staring?” you subconsciously blurt out until you’re finally able to register his question, eliciting a frown from you. “I’m not staring. What is there to stare at?”

“Well, apparently, there’s me,” he quips. “What? Too handsome to look away? Should I wear a mask next time?”

You scoff, mouth gaping and eyes shifting between the cocky boy and the streets, “I can’t believe you… do you not know the concept of decency?”

“There’s nothing to be decent about when I’m just stating the truth,” he chortles with a shrug.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you’re shocked that someone as prideful as him actually exists in the world. So in a rage of a fit, you open the front glove compartment only to be shot down with yet another surprise waiting for you, which happens to be a box of… condoms.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath, cheeks burning and eyes widening when you finally acknowledge the things the boy next to you is up to in his free time. Your attempt to be discrete about your findings coming to a failure when Hoseok catches a glimpse of you and cackles in response.

Slamming the compartment closed, you opt for your wet flip flops, slipping it off and tossing it at his head; right before it hits your target, Hoseok spots the flying object in his peripheral vision as he catches it in mid air and tosses it right back at your side of the ground. Your loud sigh becomes apparent as you watch the slipper flop right back onto your foot as if nothing had happened in the first place, but none of your actions occur without a consequence as the car thrillingly swerves side to side throughout it all and elicits a shriek from you while you push your back into the seat and your hand reaches for the grab handles hanging from the ceiling.

“Hey, I’m trying to get us both back alive and in one piece. I don’t think I need your dirty slippers for that,” he quips with a smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Then at least drive with both hands…” you mumble, hesitantly crossing your arms in fear. “I don’t want to see my life flash right before my eyes again.”

He looks over at you with a quirked brow, “you mean like this?”

You should’ve known better than to trust the renewed version of Jung Hoseok, because the next thing you know, the car sways sharply left to right and right to left as you shoot the mischievous boy a death glare. But contrary to the spite you’re trying to channel into your glare, what you find yourself and your panicking heart isn’t anger or frustration or any of that; instead, you find yourself flooded with warmth and endearment, because the boy you’re staring at brings you back to the times when you held nothing but admiration and adoration towards the renowned dancer.

Because he’s smiling again. No, not one of those smug smiles or smirks that he likes to put on in the presence of the public, but one that had been long buried underneath the ever growing shadows of the nightly phase of his demeanor. His grin spreads from ear to ear, revealing his perfectly aligned teeth and scrunching his eyes into slim lines which resonates with joy and nothing but joy and careless of the dark world surrounding him.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe under my hands,” he firmly states once the car fixes itself back into its lane amidst the empty streets of the night, looking over at you with a smirk only to crack up back into a full out cackle at the sight of your glare.

Safe under his hands, you mull over his words, it’s ironic how you felt the exact opposite around him.

But at this very moment, when your glare turns into a gaze and you can’t believe you’re actually staring at him in utter adoration, what you find yourself looking at is the boy who likes to have fun and never once cares for what others thought of him. And although you don’t like to admit it, but you find yourself falling all over again. As the car rolls along the bridge, the highway filled with cars coming into full view right underneath, your wall crumbles one by one and brick by brick. You don’t know if it’s just you and your hopeless thinking, but you like to think each and every time the street lights shine upon his sun kissed skin, a little part of the old Hoseok reveals itself in both his laugh and smile.

It’s ironic because you felt the most unsafe under his hands; as if your determination to disprove everything you once thought was wrong, that your feelings only belongs to the old Hoseok and not the new, only seems to be knocked down day by day. The longer you stay to watch the moon pass by the radiance of the sun, the more you find yourself squinting and looking away in both longing for the past and security of knowing you’re safe. Because unbeknownst to him, you’re everything but safe under his hands.

“So?”

The low tone of his voice is enough to snap you back into reality.

“So what?”

“So…” he repeats. “Are you going to explain to me why you’re always staring at me like that?”

“Like what?” you scrunch your nose. Ah, the new Hoseok is back within the blink of an eye. “I’m not staring at you.”

Hoseok turns to raise a brow at your less than convincing claim, blinking at you with those dark, alluring eyes of his and a jump in your chest traps a gasp in your throat. Slowly averting his eyes back on the road, a smirk adorns his tender lips as a chuckle escapes from the back of his throat.

“Alright, if you say so, love.”

You roll your eyes, “well, let me ask a question then. Why are you even offering this bet when you’re not even gaining anything in the first place?”

“What do you mean? I can get you to shut up about the past me,” he says with the tap of his fingers against the steering wheel, and when you look over, you notice both his hands clutching the wheel unlike before.

And even though it’s something any decent person would do, you find yourself melting into a puddle of an unknown, undiscovered mess, because as much of a tough front this boy likes to put on, there’s been several times tonight where he’s shown the softer side of him; when he wrapped you in the warmth of his sweater, out of courtesy and respect for the vulnerable you in a see through white tee, and when he teases you in his car but nevertheless complies to your requests because of the fear which radiates from your shaky breath, everything he does might be overlooked by others, but you notice the underlying tone of it all.

“If that’s your goal, then you’re going to have to make this bet with every girl in this school and have them all swoon for you in the entire school. It’s not like I’m the only person who’s still talking about the old you—”

“Oh, but you are,” he reaffirms. “I don’t think you hear about the old dance captain around campus anymore, do you? In fact, I’m sure everyone thinks Jimin is the captain now—”

“That’s not true,” you blurt out in a louder voice than you meant to, biting your bottom lip and lowering your volume, “no one says that. Your position as the captain is indisputable…” Seeing the quirk of his brows at how positively you’re speaking of him, contrary to your past, irritated tone, you clear your throat, “...or at least it was. I-I don’t know. You’re probably not as great as you used to be anymore.”

“I guess you’re right. Jimin probably is way better than me by now,” he snorts at your remark, shrugging. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to notice the downturn of his lips and the way he presses them into thin lines. Everything he says doesn’t go without any backlash, and you know that… or at least you’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, a part of him longs for the bright lights on stage and the loud cheers and whistles from the audience. You’re about to apologize for your rash words when he turns his head to glance at you with those dark, brown eyes of his, and you’re suddenly stunned still. “...but that brings me to my second question. Why are you so interested in my past?”

“I’m not,” you defend yourself. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m interested, but rather… curious. I’d be fine getting on with my life without knowing your past.”

He presses his lips into a line, the adorable dimples appearing to contrast the smug look on his face, and nods his head as if there isn’t a word you say that he actually believes.

“What?” you breathe. “You don’t believe me? You actually think I’m that obsessed with you?”

He cinches his brows and glances at you with a suppressed smile, “I was just wondering, and don’t take this to heart, but were you one of those girls who liked to watch me during dance practice?”

“W-What?” your eyes pop open and your breathing gets caught on the knot in your throat, because technically speaking, you were indeed one of those girls.

Hoseok only chortles at your response, running a hand through his hair and returning them to the steering wheel. “As a way to thank you for spending so much time to support me from the back, if you really want to know why I quit dancing and left it all behind, long story short, everything we did tonight explains it all.”

“... I don’t get it,” you furrow your brows.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it?”

You bite your bottom lip before reluctantly admitting, “...somewhat.”

He rolls his eyes at your response, a scoff leaving his lips as he leans his head against his hand, propped against his side of the door. “And did those people in the library have any fun? Do you think people stuck in dance practice and pulling all nighters every other day have any fun? Don’t you think those people want to have a life too? Doesn’t everyone want to have fun?”

You frown at his explanation, because quite frankly, that’s the dumbest reason you’ve ever heard of. If someone really loved what they were doing, they’d be committed enough to bypass all the struggles and time crunches to do what they loved. And you firmly believe dancing is, or was, exactly just that for Hoseok. This doesn’t sound like the actual reason behind his absence in the club, no, this sounds like an excuse.

“That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you even for a second,” you spit, shaking your head as he raises a brow at you. “You liked dancing too much to just leave it like that.”

And before you know it, the car comes to a stop; the engine purrs into silence and your house lies right outside the passenger window as Hoseok takes a deep breath and sighs, leaning back into his seat while tiredly running a hand through his hair.

“You were asking why I’m making this bet with you, right?” Hoseok cocks his head at you, leaning it against the window with his eyes peering down at you.

“Yeah…?”

“Well, turns out you’re not the only one trying to find out about something,” he states, tapping his fingers against the gear stick, “because it seems like to me, you know a lot more than you let on, and I’m interested in finding that out.”

Your eyes are locked with his, the two of you challenging each other in a silent feud against whatever the other is trying to hide, but when you finally spoke, the duel comes to a temporary end.

“I guess we’ll just have to find out then, because I don’t plan on ever falling for someone like you.”

Hoseok just chuckles at your response, reaching his hand out towards you for you to shake with a wink, “alright then, Ms. Inexperienced, I guess we’ll just have to see who’s the real heart breaker.”

-

A buzz vibrates against your head and snaps you out of your daydream as you grab your phone and try to fan your burning cheeks with your hands.

Junghwa [8:11 PM] Y/N!!! How could you leave me alone with Hani?!?!

8:11 pm.

You suddenly jump out of bed when your eyes pop open, your mind dizzy at the rush of blood flowing down to your feet and running wild at the sight of the time brazen across your phone screen. You just spent one and a half hours daydreaming about your time with the one and only Jung Hoseok. And the more you reminisce over his last words and the flirtatious wink he gave you, utterly confident that he, in fact, is much more “experienced” and “active” in the sexual side of his life to be the true heartbreaker—as if that’s actually a good thing—the more your cheeks scorch with heat and you can barely breathe in the musty room of your house.

Another series of buzzes vibrates against your hand.

Junghwa [8:12 PM] Just kidding~

Junghwa [8:13 PM] I heard you’re sick, so Hani and I are coming over to your house in ten minutes with food!

Junghwa [8:14 PM] Prepare to binge watch some dramas!!!~

Of course your two best friends would be kind enough to bring over some food for the bed stricken one, or perhaps, Junghwa’s last text confirms their true intentions of catching up on some dramas only you had subscription to. Whatever it is, you change into a pair of shorts and tee when you spot Hoseok’s sweatshirt draped over the armrest of the chair by your desk, the only sweatshirt you have available in the house, as the rest are in the washers.

You’re not really going to wear his sweater…are you, you question yourself. It isn’t much of an exaggeration to say that it’s literally freezing outside, and walking out in a t-shirt would practically ensure you an even worse cold to come—something you can’t afford considering the upcoming tests—so without much thought and lots of curiosity, you throw on his sweater only to be bombarded by the pleasant scent of him—Old Spice, clean cut and fresh with the tinge of cinnamon and peppermint.

And as if right on cue, another notification comes buzzing through your phone.

Ew, Hoseok [8:17 PM] I heard you’re sick?

Ew, Hoseok [8:18 PM] Want me to come over with some food?

No, the last thing you want is for him to come over and catch you with his sweatshirt on.

Ew, Hoseok [8:19 PM] I know you’re reading this, and I know you aren’t going to reply. So I’ll be coming over in fifteen.

In fifteen? Aren’t Junghwa and Hani also coming over in ten?

Your eyes widen and your feet begin to scramble out of your house when you realize your friends are going to somehow bump into Hoseok, a situation which you don’t want to explain to your friends about regarding how and why the infamous Hoseok is in your house. But after texting several times to both Hoseok, who only reads your texts but mischievously refuses to answer, and Junghwa, who probably doesn’t even notice the vibrations of her phone in her back pocket, you figure you have to stop Junghwa at school, because there’s no way Hoseok would listen to your pleas—especially when all he’d be busy doing is smirking at the way you’re wearing his sweater. And now that you think of it, there’s something else you have to take care of at school, too.

Stumbling into the familiar halls of your school, you’re fortunately able to encounter your two friends laughing and skipping down the halls right off the bat.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re alive!” Junghwa chimes, running to you and preparing to pounce only to have her motions halted by your arms which grips at her shoulders.

“Hey,” you breathe and smile, completely out of breath.

“Why are you in such a hurry? Do you miss us that much?” Junghwa giggles, tilting her head to laugh at your disheveled state. “We were on our way, you know. Sorry for being, like, two minutes late.”

“No, I-uh, actually,” you manage to say in between breaths, “have something to do.”

Hani comes walking up from behind Junghwa with raised brows, “what’re you doing here? I thought you were sick?”

You glance between your two friends, trying to formulate some sort of excuse as to why you had ran out of your house with your red nose and flip flops—especially in this freezing weather. But as your mind scuffles for an explanation, you find yourself staring at the three very people you’re looking for as a side mission—Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung; other than explaining what on earth you’re up to at school, there’s a scolding waiting to be let out to those three boys milling around at the end of the hall.

“I have to do something really quick… I don’t think I can hang out tonight. Let’s all crash at my house another day, alright?” you mumble, walking past your confused friends before whirling around to wave them goodbye. “I’m sorry! Really! Let’s watch some TV tomorrow! And don’t go to my house tonight!”

“Y/N! What’re you talking about?” Junghwa calls out to you.

“Where are you going?” Hani questions.

“I’m sorry, I’ll explain everything tomorrow!” you apologize, giving them one last wave and turning around to jog down the hall until Junghwa and Hani shrug it off and turn down the opposite side of the hall.

As you jog down the familiar pathway leading to the dance club’s practice room, Taehyung is the first one who catches sight of you with pleasantly surprised eyes, the other, however, stare with frightened, wide eyes.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re here!” Taehyung chirps, waving his hand at you.

Crossing your arms and letting out one loud huff, you stand before the three, completely unamused by their welcome.

“Haha… Y/N… you’re here,” Jungkook smiles weakly.

“Yeah, welcome back,” Jimin mumbles with a shaky, hesitant laugh.

“Wanna help us with some boot camp paperwork?” Taehyung asks and the other two shoot darting death glares at him. “Wait, what?”

“No, I don’t want to help you with ‘paperwork,’” you tap your foot against the ground. “Because last time, paperwork meant spending time with a certain someone and not actual paperwork!”

“Y/N, we’re sorry!” Jungkook drops onto the floor along with Jimin, the two of them grabbing your arm and pleading for forgiveness as Taehyung cluelessly joins them. “We’re desperate to have our captain back! The boot camp and showcase are coming up, and without Hoseok, we’re barely getting enough sleep for preparations!”

You roll your eyes, “you could’ve just told me and we could’ve figured out some plan, because literally nothing came out of yesterday. He ignored me every time I brought up the club.”

“Oh…” the three of them throw shifty glances at each other, unsure of what to do now that their last resort has gone to waste. “Well… will you at least forgive us…?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug before attempting to turn away only to have the three of them pull you back around.

“We actually brought someone here for you!” Taehyung blurts out and you quirk a brow. Jungkook and Jimin follow along with Taehyung, placing their hands on your shoulder and gently ushering you towards the entrance of the practice room.

And to your surprise, the first thing you see elicits a flash of memories rewinding up from present day all the way back to that one regretful day where things could have changed drastically; because standing right there is the previous dance captain, not Hoseok, but Keiko.

“You’ve wanted to ask her some stuff, right? You’ll forgive us now, right?” Taehyung begs, swinging your hand back and forth.

Glaring at the three boys staring at you with wide eyes and pouty lips akin to a puppy, you take a deep breath and sigh. “I was just joking around. I’m not that mad at you guys, and I don’t actually need to talk to her—”

“Hello,” the girl greets enthusiastically with her sleek, velvety voice. She glances over as she goes over her usual stretching routine. With her short hair which brushes just a few inches above her shoulders, you can see the toned muscles of hers from under her black sports bra and above her black leggings. If this is the girl Hoseok is rumored to have a crush on, utilizing you to elicit some jealous response from, then you aren’t too surprised. She’s perfect and intimidating in every way… except for when she speaks, because the moment she welcomes you, an outsider of the club, you’re reminded of the bright smile Hoseok had once welcomed you in with. “Is there something I can help you with that those few gentlemen can’t?”

“Oh, um—”

“Go on, go on, we believe in you, Y/N!” the three boys from behind you whisper before gently pushing you into the room and closing the door shut behind you.

You’re just about to whirl around and give the mischievous boys a good smack on the back when a raspy chuckle comes tumbling from Keiko’s lips. “Ah, don’t mind those boys. They’re a little bit out of their minds right now because of camp preparations. I’ve heard things are going a bit rough around here, so I decided to drop in and help,” she smiles at you, “but I see things are going better than I thought now that you’re around.”

“Ah, no… I don’t really do much…” you press your lips shut and hide your fidgeting hands behind your back.

She raises her brows curiously, “oh? Well, they seem a lot more cheerful around you. It’s almost like they’re around Hoseok—”

“That’s,” you nearly cut her off and she glances at you with wide eyes, encouraging you to continue. “That’s… actually what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Well, then ask away.”

“I-um…” you beat around the bush, gulping when you notice how her eyes never left your shifty ones. “I was just wondering what happened to Hoseok.”

“What happened to him?”

“Why he left… or why he’s not dancing anymore,” you reiterate. Peering up at her, you find Keiko staring blankly at you as if looking for an answer to a question the three boys have probably already asked her several times before.

After a deep breath, she sighs, “I don’t know. You’re going to have to ask him that.”

“Are you still in contact with him…?”

“...yes,” Keiko replies after a few seconds of silence.

The clock ticks in the background and you’re not sure if the pounding of your panicking heart echoes along in the thin air. Everything about her intently watchful eyes and her short answers tell you there’s something wrong about this entire situation. Whether you’re invading personal privacy or she’s uncomfortable with this topic, you’re unsure of; but there’s one thing you know for certain: the transition of her mien between warmth to cold tells you there’s not much to prod further.

“I mean… can’t you ask him what’s up? Or help him with anything…?” you hesitantly ask.

“Are you one of those girls who used to watch him dance by the door every now and then?” Keiko suddenly questions and you look up at her with wide eyes. “Do you know him personally?”

“I… sort of do.”

“Well,” she tries to explain, “there’s not much I can do, really. I can ask him what’s wrong, but what do I do after that? He’ll come back when he’s ready. If he’s truly a dancer, then he’ll eventually find his way back to the stage. I don’t think he needs anyone to remind him or push him. If he’s ready to move on, then shouldn’t we, too?”

She’s right and Hoseok’s right.

Maybe you really are the only one buried in the past. Maybe you do need to move on. Maybe you’re the only one stuck in the shadows of the passing sun, a bygone which has yet to be seen in the near future—or perhaps, a bygone long past and set and carved and etched into history. And if you don’t move on from the past and into the present, perhaps you’ll just become another bygone of the ever rising and setting sun.

Everything she says points in that very direction, that you need to move on and stop fiddling with things of the past. But when she speaks her next few words, there’s a hint in her voice that tells you otherwise, that tells you to hold on because there’s no one but you who can.

“But hey, who knows. Maybe he really does need someone. Maybe he needs you. I hope you’ll stay by his side, and when the time really comes, when he needs someone to hold onto for dear life because time just never seems to stop and all he needs is something steady to hold him up, I hope you’ll be that very pillar he needs to bring himself back up onto his feet and finally confront the past the both of you so want.”

She walks her way to the door while tying her hair up, allowing the boys to enter the room, but not without grinning at you with an edge of hope etched into her statement and leaving you cluelessly behind.