#it would have been immensely funny (to me) and also makes life even more torturous for ed specifically

[meikostan]

Only thing that could have improved 03 was if ling was there. Elevated from a 10/10 to an 11/10. Life could be more beautiful than it already is

[acourtofthought]

This is the new argument from e/riels:

"Yes Lucien was feisty and powerful and sassy and funny in the first book, and that personality slowly started to fade in book 2. This happened because Lucien was originally supposed to be Nesta's mate, but then SJM changed her mind. Lucien slowly became a shadow of his old self to the point where he barely exists in the story. Yes it can partially be attributed to trauma, but he had lived through immense trauma already at the start of book one and still managed to be his foxy, witty self. This is because he will not be a lead in Elain's book or any book. SJM is purposefully downgrading him because he is not meant to fill the role of MMC. She realized that Azriel and Elain have much more chemistry, hence the famous statement about how sometimes she puts two characters together and they just won't work. She left readers a hint about the fact that she was doing this: 'Why make them mates? What if that is what she needs?' using Feyre's words."

What are your thoughts on this?

My thoughts? There will be many 😂

Feyre also said Az would probably never stop loving Mor.

Feyre also told Elain that Lucien cared for her and that he was a good male.

Feyre also once considered Ianthe a friend.

I don't think Feyre's word is one they want to get hung up on.

Lucien did experience trauma in book 1 however the majority of that trauma, the things that impacted him on a bone deep level, happened to him centuries prior. Lucien's main source of trauma in book 1 (to me) was not when Amarantha permanently scarred him but when he lost Jesminda and was chased out of Autumn after having spent years being tormented by Beron and his brothers. But he found some semblance of peace with Tamlin. Was he truly content? Not really but he had a friend, a place in Tamlin's court, the people of Spring looked to him to set the example (friends and purpose, sounds familiar, right?). Despite his past he had still had enough time to settle into his sassiness because his life was somewhat consistent.

However book 2 changed all that. Tamlin and his court began to suffer as a result of what happened during and after UTM. There was the added fear of what Rhys was possibly doing to Feyre and how that affected both he and Tamlin. The stability (illusion of?) he had grown accustomed too (even during Amarantha's reign), began to crumble and the threat of a war was pressing down on them all.

Should Lucien have remained sassy while worrying his friend and his other friends fiance was being tortured? Should he have been feisty knowing they were preparing to ally with the KoH in order to try and get her back? While his friend had taken to threatening him? While his friend was falling apart? While being sexually harassed by Ianthe than having to perform the Rite with her? It's funny how they claim Gwyn won't be ready to leave the library in her book or for sex with Az years after her SA but expect Lucien to be an absolute hoot while his was going on.

Should he then have been sassy knowing that Feyre was plotting the downfall of Tamlin in book 3? After finding out that his lost mate wasn't actually his mate and that his real mate had been taken by his enemy? Should he have been cracking jokes after his magic was stolen and he nearly died trying to fight his way to Elain's side to make sure she was alright? Should he have then been the life of the party while surrounded by multiple characters treating him like dirt in the NC?

Should he be witty and fun and snarky upon the realization that he had no place to go except the human lands after the war? When Tamlin gave him a black eye and cut lip?

SJM isn't putting Lucien through all of this so Az can lead a book with Elain. SJM is putting Lucien through all this so he becomes the ultimate underdog story. In an interview, someone specifically asked SJM if we were going to see the return of sassy Lucien and she said something along the lines of, "I hope so, he's going through a lot right now." The author knows exactly what she's doing with his character and it's not because he's being downgraded. Downgraded men don't get an upgrade to their father and Court they belong to. Downgraded men don't have the author confirming (after ACOMAF had already been written, the book she made Elain and Lucien mates) that Lucien has always been one of her favorite characters. Downgraded men don't school Cassian in his own book with a single word.

"Easy," Lucien said.

Cassian snarled.

"Easy," Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising DOMINANCE within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten -

If the author wanted us to believe that Elain and Lucien have no chemistry than she would not have had any reason to have Elain ignore him. Instead they would have shared many conversations on page and we would have seen that lack of chemistry playing out in real time. Instead she had Elain cut off communication with Lucien the second she no longer mourned for Graysen to the extent she once did. That's because a single Elain is an Elain that's going to fall in love with Lucien way too quickly, an Elain who shares very obvious chemistry with him and that can't happen before their book.

[lostacelonnie]

It sure is the new year & somehow im still tired and way busier than i would like. So uh. Sorry this took me a bit to get to. The first time i read your response i thought you'd said you were watching bocchi which confused me because you had already. But im glad you are enjoying bofuri. She's such a chaotic disaster character. Ohh i think i feel you on that my brother in law & i have like. Opposing autism vibes & coexisting with him when we share apace is exhausting. I hope school is going well for you! Yeah like. Honestly sometimes ill chat with people at a theater but mostly just. Please do not. Im just there for a film. Love the communal effort to just. Understand your teacher what a time that must be. My parents did teach to cook a bit. I learned spaghetti & a basic taco recipe from them. But i learned a lot from there so i had a bit of a spring board to go off. I hope you have a fun time learning to cook stuff i enjoy it immensely. Even with all the dishes it can make. Honestly schools are just. Weird if anything. Liminal space adjacent but in a way neither good or bad. Im sad i missed getting to pull her i want ruan mei but due to bad storms my internet was out, which also contributed to late response, for the last days of her banner. So i have to save for her re run. I am so normal about her & stelle(lying). I finally finished the argenti quest but had to level & gear himeko & welt. Got kafka on my console account from her banner & it gave me e1 bailu when i hoped for clara. Ohh so its like a character growth/change type thing. As the story progresses & they change they gain new herscherr forms. I think if my understanding is right. Or right as it can be for something not fully explained? I miss manaria & the gang already. Can only tide myself over with other villainess shows til it returns. Or i read more. Dungeon meshi at least has an airing anime adaptation now which means i can see my favorite fail girl marcille in animation. I will remember that & look to the community for help as needed if i pick noita up thank you for the tip. I too want himeko to be fine & alive so i sympathize with the hi3 fans. I dont remember if she's getting off on penacony or not if thats been said. But penacony definitely has some characters i want. Oh okay damn i always wondered about her floating. So thats one mystery solved. Wait seele has just. Basically a good dog aura? Oh so kiana mei & bronya have the most extensive lore? What about uh. Durandal? I feel like ive seen that particular polish phrase before whats it mean?

HI HELLO its been 20 years which im SO FUCKING SORRY about...... my life has decided to just Not give me a break recently. and understandable akdfkgjksj i should really continue watching it but ah.... so busy. and Tired all the time. actually got to skip school today bc i was so sleep deprived i thought i was sick but then i slept for another 4 hours and i feel so much better now. should be studying [have 8 exams coming up until the end of february.......] but i also Need to chill for a bit. agghhh. and oh understandable!! it really is just like that sometimes. school, as i said, is. psychologically torturing me but im actually not in that much pain so yeah!! and thanks also. i hope my teachers let us catch a break soon. at least ive recently picked up baking to destress so at least im not about to become the joker. and REAL LIKE i also dont mind talking with people in public places from time to time but i usually just wanna mind my own business. and yeah its SO funny but also im surprised how nice all my classmates are about helping others. like. if we had to cooperate to create a message with my old classmates everyone would just instantly start making fun of each other for not knowing something. OOOH COOL....... when i have more time i should learn to make some spanish dishes. went to gran canaria with my mom recently and god ive missed their cuisine SO much. god yeah schools are like another dimension to me ngl. they work based on different rules then the rest of the world. AND AUUGHGH PAIN...... good luck with getting her on future reruns tho!!! same with being Totally Normal. and hey congrats on all that!!! i also ended up doing argentis quest and luckily didnt have time with fighting him thanks to clara who makes it extremely easy. generally shes always carrying me. finally got to trailblaze lvl 65 and i only have my clara team at lvl 80 rn so i should probs work on kafka etc but i hate grinding mats...... hell on earth. oh well. and yeah more or less!!! tho it also depends on the person and circumstances, as some people will get new authorities, some will kind of. get closer to their current one? and some people might even give up their herrscher authorities with time. but yeah honkai loves to retcon itself so its kinda blurry sometimes. I MISS EVERYONE TOOOOOO and i started watching reborn as a villainess some time ago but ah. didnt have time to continue. i ALSO started watching dunmesh and ALSO didnt have time to catch up with it but im SO excited for it bc ive only watched 3 eps but love it already. if you ever Do pick up the game then good luck!! its as brutal as it is fun to play. himeko protection squad forever....... i should finish penacony when i get the time and motivation. wasnt too interested in any chars at first but acheron stole my heart....... so would sparkle if she wasnt so Racist for no reason. yes seele Does have a good doggy aura SHDKFJKS even The Great Herrscher Of Sentience cant say no to her. shes so sweet and i love her. and yeah basically!!!! since theyre effectively all the protags, even if kiana is the "main" one. AND I WILL VERY EXCITEDLY TELL YOU LITERALLY ALL DURANDAL LORE AS I KNOW IT BY HEART BUT ALSO LITERALLY DONT HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO WRITE IT ALL DOWN RIGHT NOW SO ILL TRY TO GET THAT DONE BY YOUR NEXT MESSAGE. so well both have time to write our respective stuff. and oh polska gurom is a misspelled version of polska górą [since its pronounced almost the same] which more or less means poland on top. its used ironically most of the time and i LOVE saying it

[stxleslyds]

Jason doesn't show up in DC's animated series (though the does "spiritually" show up as Tim Drake in Season 2 of Batman the Animated Series).

Jason has a strong presence in the video games, though. So what is your opinion on Jason's characterization for Arkham Knight? He is a DLC for the Injustice games as well. Judy be warned that I did watch some clips of Arkham Knight and the torture was too gruesome for me.

RED HOOD IN VIDEO GAMES.

Hey there friend, thank you for the ask!

INJUSTICE 2.

I had to do some research on Red Hood’s appearances in the Injustice games because I was never really in touch with that story. Here is what I knew about it, there are two games for PC, one of them is Injustice and the other is Injustice 2, the games also have the comic books that give context/background to the lore of the game.

I used to play Injustice: Gods Among Us on mobile phone, and I had Jason as a playable character there, I also found out way too late that “Nightwing” wasn’t really Dick Grayson, it was Damian because he took on the mantle after he and the rock killed Dick in the comic (forever mad at that ridiculous death and the kinda scary art that comic had).

I looked for information about Red Hood’s backstory in wikis and all that because I refuse to read an alternate universe book written by Tom Taylor, there are things that I am just not willing to do.

All in all, I think that this Jason was in surface level, the same as his canon comic counterpart up until the time of his resurrection. Given that the world was at war and the League of Assassins wasn’t working openly, he and the others had to live in the shadows, he seems to have been trained proficiently by both Batman and the LoA so he is a very hardcore opponent. There are some bits of his story with Damian and a place called Gorilla City that I do not understand because I haven’t read the comics but I am fine without it.

The thing is that this Jason is pretty cool, he sticks to his morals and fights for what he believes is right, he doesn’t look like the kinda guy that takes sides in this war which is probably the best idea. Both Batman and Superman seem to be on the wrong side of history with they ideals.

What I did see and I loved eternally was the ending to Red Hood’s story, I will link the video here! But I will also copy and paste all that he says there because I think it’s really important and where I was able to see more of his characterization.

"That. Felt. Good. Titanium composite hollow point bullets with a C4 kicker. Fastest, most explosive ammo in the world. I made them myself. With the invasion over, Bruce and Superman started fighting again. I wasn't down with either of them. On the one hand, the Regime's right. Scumbag murderers and rapists deserve to die. But on the other hand, I'm no fan of government authority. Especially the dictatorial variety.

So, while the world's finest fight each other, I fight for the people. The weak. The innocent. Anyone who can't protect themselves. When they cry out for a saviour, I'll answer. As for the criminals that threaten them? They need to know that their actions have consequences. That the Red Hood is coming for them.”

This is excellent, I absolutely love this, this Jason knows his morals and doesn’t bow down to anyone and in the end, he is truly a hero to the people that need heroes the most.

Him saying that he believes that some criminals have to die but that he can’t really join Superman’s side because he cannot associate with it because he isn’t a fan of dictatorial ideas, I love this man.

I feel like this is a fair characterization for Jason, I believe that if something along the lines of what happens in Injustice happens in current continuity then Jason wouldn’t join any sides, he wouldn’t be neutral per se but he will fight for his own ideals. And his ideals in most universes are protecting people and I think that’s great. I love to see a world where Jason is seen as more intelligent and put together than the Batman.

Something that I find quite funny and interesting from this game is the dialogues that characters have with each other when they fight, I found this video compilation where you can see all the dialogues between Red Hood vs Robin (Damian Wayne), they are so fun and I love the animations too.

BATMAN: ARKHAM KNIGHT.

Oh, ArkhamVerse Jason, my beloved.

He is, to me, the epitome of this meme.

I have actually watched the whole game playthrough, several times, and Jason had a DLC as the Red Hood for that game (Nightwing has one too and I will talk about it later because I love this version of him). And, yes, the torture scene is very gruesome, it was incredibly sad and it made me feel bad. But I also think that they made it that way so it could support the kind of storytelling they were going for.

The reality is that this Jason suffered his whole life, and was constantly introduced to lifestyles that he never wanted to be part of. The world around this Jason wasn’t kind at all to him and there is a long list of people who did him wrong.

Although ArkhamVerse Jason didn’t die, like his comic counterpart did, he suffered the most. And his suffering really drove him to be the best version of an unhinged Jason Todd. But it’s clear, his brutality and murder intent isn’t laced with his Red Hood persona or at least not on the same level as it is with his Arkham Knight persona.

This Jason’s characterization works to perfection, but it only works that way because he was well developed within the game lore and the comics. This Jason was extremely well trained, he is probably the smartest version of Jason, his mind and his level of preparedness are unparalleled when it comes to other Jason Todd variants (a little MCU Loki talk right there).

I would go as far as to say that this Jason would be an excellent match to peak Dick Grayson from before New 52 in comics. Those two would clash so immensely, but man, it would be one hell of an intellectual and physical fight. Two Kings doing what they do best.

Anyway, for now take my word for how well characterized Jason is in the ArkhamVerse, I will make a post were I deep dive more on his character both in game and comics. There is so much to say about him, he is truly interesting and very complex.

Now, I will be a little cheeky and I will use this ask as an opportunity to talk about my man, ArkhamVerse Nightwing aka Pretty Boy.

I love him so much! In the game when you get to meet him (I will link the video here! it’s five minutes long, and worth the watch) you get to see both Nightwing’s and Dick’s personalities. Nightwing is fun and relaxed, he is a little bit cocky and doesn’t let Batman be a pain in his ass, he is truly a beast. Although he is never seen without the mask in a moment when he is alone with Bruce you can really see Dick’s personality shine through. He obviously has had issues with Bruce in the past but there is also this palpable respect coming from both of them to the other. Bruce wants to protect Dick but he acts like a jerk instead of telling him what is on his mind. Dick wants to help Bruce at all costs, he refuses to leave Gotham until they solve something that he was already working on before Bruce needed his help.

There is also this sort of goodbye scene between the two (I will link it here!) that is extremely sad because Dick doesn’t believe Bruce when he tells him that he is proud of him. Dick cuts him off just when Bruce was trying to open up and I think that scene speaks volumes about how rough their relationship was. Dick never finds out that Bruce was “dying” after being infected with the Joker’s blood/gas, so it’s very bittersweet.

There is also the Nightwing DLC, where we get to see Dick being the best of the best, he is so skilled and funny and smart. It is amazing how much this game made me love their Nightwing even though he doesn’t appear much, his dynamic with Penguin is just perfect, Dick literally makes Penguin’s life very difficult. All of the people working with Penguin kinda fear Dick a little bit, some of them are even impressed by his skills.

Oh and, when Nightwing gets captured at some point in the game, Penguin’s men are saying something along the lines of “I was sure Batman will come in” “how come?” “what’s tied up downstairs and getting the crap beat out of it?” “Oh yeah, Nightwing” and that is so true, if I were Batman, I will also risk my life for Nightwing.

I just love Nightwing, he makes me so happy! He is the best here!

Anyway, enough of me loving Nightwing uncontrollably, I will make a separate post where I only talk about ArkhamVerse Jason so, yeah, be ready for that one because I love that Jason too, he is hot.

[cosmosrival]

your kamanderson content is so big brained i LOVE it so much

thank you SO fucking much (i run up to you in the street) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they consume my THOUGHTS i have intense BRAINROT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! because of how nicely they’d fit together!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????

even as a platonic rs he’d be a hUGE support for kama since he understands love and human condition better than anyone else. but it hits so hard as a romantic rs because kama embodies everything he’s ever wanted his entire life (desire as a human (to be understood), as a lover(to be loved), as a writer(to be seen), as a poet(to be listened to), as a CREATIVE) and once that it’s in front of him ? how would he react ? he’d push it away despite longing for it bc of his immense self loathing and belief that he doesn’t deserve anything after the kind of life he lived..... BUT !!!!!! 

unfortunately, kama LOVES. and they love too MUCH. so they will NOT pass up an opportunity such as this. they’re cursed to pay attention to everyone as the God of Love u know, and andersen would be amusing to them, do u know why. because he’s so complicated, he’s tortured by love and YET he keeps longing and longing and longing and an offering of pain through love is what kama adores and craves the most. in gross otaku language, they call this a tsundere masochist and a kuudere sadist aha! and also because he, just like them, shares the same beliefs. so they’ll eventually clash at first, since he can reveal their truth so easily. “despite hating love, you long for it more than anyone” kind of words, probs even more harsh ones, but this has little to no effect on kama. because they know!!!! they’re not used to being loved, but their own belief that they clearly do not deserve it anymore, makes them self-aware of their own pathetic behavior, so why would they feel any shame ? yes, yes ! go on keep telling them like it is ! tell them how deprived they are, hans christian andersen ! beat them with the stick of truth ! they deserve it !

...but when they immediately shine the spotlight on HIM, what would happen. he’d react the same. that “love isnt for him” stuff and whatnot, despite his stories being a literal cry for attention, a pained ���please understand me”. and u know what’s funny ? kama understands. they understand immediately. because they’re the concept of [love]. he longs for [them]. and they know. he’s a part of the universe that kama represents and they’ve been with him since pretty much forever. when he tried to be a singer??? failed but they were there. a dancer??? failed as well but they were there. when he finally began to express himself through writing, was the closest they’ve ever been and even if their chaldea selves only feel it as vague concepts, as memories from the past, their bond through art and pain is still there because it’s what built andersen as [himself] in the first place and what the deity kamadeva is all about. it’s an incorporeal muse for the most lonesome poet. i feel delirious 

also check out what jay(my andersen brainfungus giver friend) and i found out like an hour ago ?

NASU WHAT DOES THIS MEAN ? HOW ABOUT YOU MAKE HIM INTERACT WITH THE OTHER SIDE OF BEAST III ? NASU ? HELLO ?

[writeblrfantasy]

excerpt from a council of golden swords: tattooed cairic king

planned this scene weeks ago, forgot about it, enjoyed writing it immensely. poor kayani, they're so in love

anyway i hope you love this as much as i loved writing it, acogs has been kicking my ass this week and this was a nice battle won

~

Asma crosses her arms. “Take off your shirt.”

Kayani chokes on their own saliva. “What?”

“I’m going to paint you. Take off your shirt.”

Kayani stares at her, open mouthed, a thousand indignities resting on their lips. Asma taps her foot, paintbrush held between two fingers, frowning impatiently. No excuse, no argument, no plea will ever sway her. She is unmovable.

Kayani stares at the floor and loosens the laces of their shirt before whipping it off. They ball it up and stand there holding it until she snatches it from them and tosses it on the sofa. “Sit on the stool,” she says, “and for Cai’s sake, stop looking so stiff. Actually look like you want to be here. You don’t even have to smile. Just look a little less queasy.”

Queasy for a different reason, Kayani thinks, but obediently sits on the wooden stool in the center of the red, blue, and gold room. The yearly trip west, spent in close quarters with almost all of the Cairic army, has driven the modesty out of them, but everything is different with Asma.

She sits on the ottoman and drags her easel closer to her, a tray of paint pools sitting beside her on the sofa. The easel legs scraping against the floor makes Kayani startle. “Relax,” she orders in a tone that’s anything but relaxing.

Kayani folds their hands and tries not to slouch. The hairs that itch when they fall into their eyes will be the least of their worries over the next few hours. Why else would Asma paint them shirtless if not just to torment them?

Once Asma has everything apparently set up to her standard, she looks up and rakes her eyes over Kayani’s torso. Her breath hitches. “You have so many tattoos. I forgot you would.” Her voice disturbs the quiet of the room, breaking a sacred peace, or however peaceful the two of them alone can get.

“Isn’t that why you wanted to paint me shirtless?” Kayani asks. “Why else would you?”

She hides her face behind the canvas and doesn’t bother with an answer. Kayani prepares for a long set of hours filled with waiting, an aching back, and keeping their walls firmly up.

After ten minutes of silence, Asma working quietly, she asks, “What does that one on your chest mean?”

Kayani resists the urge to look down and earn themself their first don’t move, idiot. They could trace the lines of the * in the darkness, in their sleep. “The death of my mother.”

She gasps. “You got tattooed when you were just a child?”

They shrug. “I’ve known some babies who got tattooed after birth because of a difficult or scary pregnancy, complications that should’ve killed them. Parents, too. We use our tattoos to cope with many things, many emotions, but prominently grief. For many people, the experience itself of sitting there for ten hours while a needle pokes into your skin—it helps.”

“By enduring pain?” Asma asks.

Kayani shrugs. “Some people find solace in pain. It’s something real they can grip onto.”

“That’s the funny thing,” Asma says, peering out from over the canvas. “It isn’t.”

Kayani’s eyes drift to the tattoo on her forearm, she follows their gaze and pulls her sleeve down. Kayani remembers it all too painfully well—her poorly stifled tears and cries while getting it, their own desire to comfort her squashed by the hatred in her eyes. It’s their fault she has it.

“What about that one?” she asks, gesturing to the wings covering their shoulders.

“Are you asking because you’re genuinely curious,” Kayani asks, “or just trying to fill the air?” They want to poke further into her reasoning, but they don’t want her to change her mind and throw them out. Alone time with Asma is bliss as much as it’s torture, and they’ll take every last bit of it.

“I got the wings one year after becoming king,” Kayani says. “To celebrate not being assassinated.”

She snorts. “Get better guards.”

“I am my own best guard besides Ajar and Samad. I didn’t want to trust anyone else. The palace guards on rotation can only do so much against an assassin hired by someone who was angry I became king and not my sister.”

Asma rolls her eyes, the soft strokes of her brush soothing to listen to against the faint chatter of birds. “And the one on your back?”

“You’re not painting that one. You can’t even see it right now.”

“Answer the question, dimwit.”

Kayani grins. As much as they love to nag Nikolai about being attracted to the ones who seemingly want nothing to do with you, they’re no less guilty. “I got the first part done after I survived the Trials.” After healing up upon their return, they went straight to the royal tattoo artist. They knew exactly what they wanted: Ajar and Samad standing side by side, blue eyes pointed to the moon.

The two of them are right outside—if Kayani’s quiet, they can hear them scratching at the door—but an ache for them runs through their chest regardless. Sometimes they’re convinced the three of them share a soul.

“I would’ve gotten the outlining done before I left for the Trials for good luck and gotten it filled in after I came back, but I didn’t want to deal with unnecessary pain. I got the second part added on after I came back from my first trip west with the army. That time, I did do it in two halves for good luck, like many of my soldiers.”

Going to get those outlines and later the full lines done with their soldiers had been one of the most rewarding experiences of their life. Sitting beside ten others in a salon, all laughing or grimacing or telling stories to work through the pain reminded them that they could still mix with normal people. Winning the Trials didn’t make them special in the soldiers’ eyes, and Kayani liked it that way.

Their second back tattoo consisted of a light brown stag leaping across the center of their back, over the dogs. “Each trip after was another add on.” They’ve since added a grassy field for the stag and the dogs to rest in, stars for the moon, flowers and sparkles in a mix of reds and browns.

“Your entire body will be covered by the time you die,” Asma says.

“That’s the goal.”

As the hours go by, Asma asks, and this? What about this? That one? What are the ones I can’t see? Kayani answers her every question, shares every story, every memory. They don’t tell her about the one on the back of their ankle, small enough to miss. A golden paintbrush.

Finally, when the sun is halfway to setting and Kayani’s lower half has gone numb, Asma announces she’s done. Kayani wobbles to their feet toward the canvas, but she picks it up before they can see it. They sigh quietly but don’t question it—until she turns around.

She’s painted them in a background more heavily red than the wallpaper behind them. It brings out the red in Kayani’s tattoos, which are obviously the star of her painting. The edges of Kayani’s muscles are blurred, but the lines of the tattoos are as clear and sharp as they are on their skin. Their eyes are halfway open, tired, and Asma captured their faint smile at something she said, maybe some memory that took them away.

The sun from the glass wall behind them drips golden light onto light brown skin, a glowing backdrop for the tattoos. Kayani sat with their left forearm up, right hand holding that wrist, but Asma painted the opposite to hide the tattoo there.

Kayani has never had the eye for beautiful artwork, nor the time to study why people devote their lives to it, but this makes them reconsider. Not because it’s them, of course, they’re not that vain. Because it’s Asma.

“I will call it ‘Tattooed Cairic King’,” Asma says. Kayani can’t take their eyes off her nonchalant expression, the casual way her fingers grip the canvas. She completed this in a day and she acts like she’s holding a piece of cheap furniture. Doesn’t she know all of her artwork will be studied meticulously after her death merely because she’s a queen?

Not just because she’s a queen, Kayani thinks. Because she’s an incredible artist. They wish they had the courage to say so, but knowing Asma, she’d make some crack about their narcissism.

“Where are you going to hang that one?” they ask. “Which guest room or dining hall or office will get the pleasure of seeing my tattoos?

She fixes them with a look. “My suite wall.”

The floor seems to swim under them.

“I thought you hated me,” they manage. “As you pointed out, last time we were together you told me to never come into your sight again.” They gesture to the canvas. “I think that violates your rule.”

For once, Asma’s silence seems to be because of her loss of words, not dramatic pause or the bother of answering a question. “It’s some of my finest work,” she settles on. “I’d like to admire it often. Let people admire it when I’m dead.” She closes her eyes and runs her finger along the top of the canvas. “Also, I’d like to do your back sometime."

“What?” Kayani sputters.

“Oh, come on. If you can survive a needle pricking your skin for ten hours, you can survive sitting still for another six.”

That’s not the problem, Kayani thinks, but only nods. Cai have mercy.

~

kayani being shook by asma's ability to Art is me @ all the talented artists here yall rock

also if you noticed the tsoa inspiration for "and this?" then props to u

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses

[mediocre--writing]

The Only Aussie I’d Fuck

Luke Hemmings x Reader

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Luke’s girlfriend, Y/n, is a famous actress she’s been begging him to watch her show and he’s finally caving, watching with his band mates, but how will Luke feel at her and her co-star’s on-screen relationship?

Warnings: Despite the title, this isn’t smut, a few mentions of making out but no smut. 

All the boys sat crowded around the television as the screen was being switched from Cable to a streaming service.

It was unlikely that the boys would just sit around a TV when they weren’t touring, since they usually wanted to do things they weren’t allowed to on tour, like spend time with loved ones or, the least likely thing they would actually get to do on tour, have a good night's sleep. But this was a special occasion, Luke’s girlfriend, Y/n, had been practically begging him to watch her show for the past few months, and he wasn't ignoring his girlfriend, he just never really had the time to. 

She had wanted to watch it with him, something that she had expressed multiple times to him on the phone, but she was busy filming the next season of the show somewhere in the mid-western US, Nebraska, he thinks. It was some sort of horror/comedy/teen coming of age thing that she never really explained other than she was in it and alluded to him a time or two. 

Luke was immensely proud of her and all that she had accomplished, when they met in 2014, he never thought that they’d both become who they were today and they never imagined the relationship that grew between them, especially a healthy relationship, given their current occupations that set certain restrictions on their capabilities on getting together in person. 

They fit together well, where he was introverted to an extent, she would push him out of his comfort zone, and vice-versa depending on the situation. They both understood each other on different levels, they both had a really creative and artistic side, yet they also enjoyed the quiet peace of being home just laying in the quiet; sans Petunia’s toenails tapping on the hardwood floors as she roamed about the house aimlessly. 

All the boys settled in to watch, given they were all close to Y/n as well, for she had gone on the american leg of the Sounds Live, Feels Live and Meet You There tours with them and bonded with the boys, gaining three more friends, real friends, not some snobby stuck up bitches that she worked with regularly. These were normal, down to earth boys who understood more than money and fame and could take a joke. 

Luke snapped a picture of the screen and the boys and their load of snacks and sent it to Y/n, proof that he was actually, finally, watching it, something she’d been begging him to do for far too long. 

As the show loaded and began to play, Michael nudged Luke’s shoulder a few times as Y/n’s face came into view, showing her sitting in a classroom gnawing on the eraser part of her pencil. 

“Look at our girl” Ashton said as they all watched the screen with more attention than they ever gave at a business meeting.

The show was set in a private-school like setting, all the kids wearing white and navy blue uniforms. The whole scene had a white noise, disturbed only by the slamming of a book, which made Y/n’s head shoot up to look at the teacher. She had a kind of glare to her eyes as she stared at the older man, who looked very displeased at her attention focused on her daydreams rather than school. 

“Ms. Carter, what was I talking about a moment ago?” 

“Dinosaurs!” She said with confidence. 

“This is a calculus class, Ms. Carter, detention,” 

“Aye, Aye captain,” She saluted him, causing him to shoot her another glare as she smirked and high fived a few people around her. 

The scene changed as she was now walking through the hallways, towards a crowd around the bathrooms, “What’s up, Maggie, we watching people piss or something?” 

A girl, who Luke distantly remembers Y/n complaining about at some point, begins to speak, “There’s a new hot guy in the bathroom and some girl said that he’s from a different country.” 

“We live in fucking Nebraska, who the hell would move here? People move away from here, not to here.” 

“Just wait, I swear he had a weird voice!” Another girl said from the group. 

“Was it anything like yours? Because if so we may need to fumigate the place” Y/n snapped at her. “What’s his name? Or do you know nothing other than his ‘weird voice?’” 

After her statement, the boy came out to see the small group of seven-ish girls standing near the boys bathroom. 

“Hey you! What’s your deal?” Maggie yelled at the boy.

He turned, showing his TV-perfect face scrunched in confusion, “What'd ya mean?” 

“Where you from, why are you here, what's your deal?” Maggie spat at the poor boy who was blushing redder than a firetruck. 

“I’m Oliver Hunnington and I’m from Sydney, my dad got a job somewhere here and so I’m here too.” He shrugged, looking far too uncomfortable with the situation

“Sydney like as in Australia?” Maggie asked with a raised eyebrow, to which he nodded and ducked his head in embarrassment at the herd of girls staring at him like raw meat. 

Y/n’s character stepped up with a hand held out to him, “I’m Savannah Carter, and you look like you’re about to shit your pants so do you need help finding your classes or are you just generally terrified of women?” 

The boys chuckled at the statement, thinking of how Y/n had said something similar to Luke the first time they met, the boy was blushing so bad he looked ready to pass out.

“Little bit of both, not gonna lie,” He chuckled, to which she grabbed his hand, looked him in the eyes with a smirk, and led him down the hallway, the girls hooting after them, Y/n turning to playfully glare at them.

The first episode just established the basic plot, it ending with a threatening scene of some gloved hands cleaning a bloody hammer as screaming is heard in the background, the end credits rolling as the next episode begins to load. 

The show was good, it wasn’t like the cringy ones that have creepy staring contests that were meant to be intimate, and the comedy wasn’t forced, it was just generally sarcastic, and it was actually enticing to watch, not just another boring Riverdale-type knockoff. 

Y/n’s character had made a few flirty remarks at Oliver, mostly jokes about eating him alive if he’d let her and asking him if he’d ever done...things with girls, which were awkward scenes but funny nonetheless.

She had teasingly trailed her fingers down his neck and shoulders a few times. There have been a few make-out scenes between her and a few other characters, most of them being guys though there was a point when she kissed Maggie, but those scenes only caused mild discomfort for the boys, three of which had been eyewitnesses to her and Luke’s make-out sessions every once and awhile. 

Her character was so different from the Y/n they knew, Y/n was kind and soft and would bake them cookies when she felt like it and she would never force anyone to do anything. Her character, Savannah, however, was sexual and not at all the socially anxious Y/n they all knew too well, Savannah had an air about her that couldn’t be ignored and practically begged for attention. 

They were on the seventh episode, they were gonna end on the fifth but they got intrigued by the plot and decided “just one more” which was really just an excuse, though they knew none of them wanted to actually stop the next episode from playing. 

The show is all about a person who is going around and hurting people, but never killing them, just slow torture, but you don’t know who they are and nobody can figure it out, and one of the characters involved with the main characters in the first episode was attacked by the masked person, so they all get involved; Savannah, Maggie, Oliver, and the other, more minor, characters in the show. 

Another character, Jess, an innocent girl who was a class below them and looked up to Savannah to guide her, so she became like a little sister and helped them all figure things out because she was really smart. 

Oliver and Savannah got really close too. She would always make sexual jokes at him and make him uncomfortable just so she could see him blush and have his hair fall over his face as he looked down in embarrassment. 

The scene the boys were at now consisted of them being at a party, Y/n’s character and Jess being in a bedroom looking for anything suspicious, while they talked idly. 

“Do you ever worry what this all could mean for your future?” Jess asked.

“What do you mean?” Savannah asked, stopping her searching and leaning on the bed.

“Like what if something happens and things go wrong and… i don't know what if someone thinks we are the ones doing… all this?” 

“Listen honey, I hate to tell you this, but my only goal in life is to get that cute little Aussie downstairs to pin me down by my neck and fuck me so hard that I can taste it, so if you’re asking me for advice about the future and shit, I’m really no help at all, kid,” Y/n’s character said with a smirk as she returned to looking for whatever she was looking for before. 

Calum, who had just been taking a sip of water, choked on it as all the boys looked up to Luke, who was staring wide eyed at the TV with a prominent blush across his cheeks. 

Michael and Ashton, who had moved to the floor in front of Luke and Cal on the couch somewhere between the third and fourth episode, were wiggling their eyebrows while Calum turned around and rubbed his hands over his back as if he were making out with someone, making Luke flush even more than before. 

A weak “Stop,” could be heard but the boys just laughed at Luke as they returned to the show. 

They ended up finishing the series that night, since there were only 11 episodes and they had to finish it then or else they would never be able to find the time to sit and actually finish it. 

It ended with Y/n’s character being attacked by the masked killer guy, but surviving and finding out that it was Jess’ dad who was behind the attacks, and he was manipulating Jess to get information on people going against him.

Savannah and Oliver ended up having their little moment, which gave the boys another reason to make jokes at Luke. 

The scene consisted of her grabbing his silky looking shirt and pulling his face to hers, whispering, “Is that a telephone pole in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” 

“Well maybe I was promised a chance at something and now I finally have the perfect moment to get it.” 

“Then come get it, we don’t have all day,”

He shoved her into the wall by her hips and reached a hand up to her neck, “We have as long as we want,” 

She smirked and the scene was moved to an overview of the city, turning into a map, then a big, red X was placed over the house that it had zoomed away from, then the credits rolled. 

The boys decided that, since it was roughly 4 am anyways, that they’d all just stay the night, especially since they were gonna meet at Luke’s and have brunch together the next day anyway. 

Ashton and Michael ended up knocking out on the floor, Calum curled up in a chair and Luke took the couch. 

--

The sun rose only a few hours after they had fallen asleep, which didn’t disturb their sleep in the slightest, but the knocking on the door sure did. 

KayKay and Crystal had been knocking on the door for at least ten minutes before Crystal tried to call Michael, who didn’t answer, so she called Luke, then Ashton, but neither of them answered either. 

Calum was woken up by the buzzing of their phones, so when his phone rang, he answered with a groggy voice, and had to pull the phone away from his ear at the sound of excited squeals, “Thank God!” Crystal said, “Let us in, we've been here for half an hour and it's COLD!” 

Calum chuckled as he walked to answer the door, kicking Michael and Ashton’s backs as he walked by, causing them to stir in their sleep. 

Cal let the girls in and the other boys woke up soon after, getting semi-ready for their brunch, which was looking to be more of a lunch as they took forever to wake up and get ready-- the boys claimed it was payback because the girls always took far to long to get ready.

The boys told KayKay and Crystal about how they finally watched Y/n’s show, to which they made a few remarks of “What took you so long?” and “Isn’t it great?!” and “Damn, I wanted to watch Luke’s face when she made the Aussie jokes at Oliver!” 

When they finally were about ready to leave, there was a knocking on the door, each of them looking around in question since their whole group was already here. 

Given it was Luke’s place, and he was still getting ready, they had a silent debate on who would get the door before Crystal’s eyes widened almost comically and she shot up to go to the door. 

Michael made a face at her as if asking “What the fuck?” but made no verbal response to her actions until there was loud squealing heard from the door. 

Luke came down the stairs as the guys rounded the corner to see the door when they saw Crystal jumping and hugging someone--Y/n.

Luke came the rest of the way down the stairs and shoved through his friends, towards his girlfriend, and picked her up just moments after she had escaped Crystal’s death grip. 

“Hi Bubs,” She whispered into his curly hair, which made him hold her even tighter than he was before, Crystal had taken a secret picture of the couple hugging (which would soon become Luke’s phone wallpaper). 

The hug lasted a bit longer than it should have, but they hadn’t seen each other in person for over four months, so the rest of the group ignored it for now, especially since they were just hugging and not having a fun little make out-sesh in front of them like they had a tendency to do every now and then. 

Luke set her down and looked into her eyes, which were filled with happy tears that had yet to fall, “When did you get back?” 

“I took the weekend off to come see you because I don’t have to work until Tuesday next week and I really wanted to see you and then you sent me the text last night and I wanted to watch the show with you even if it was cringy for me. Then I realized that I really, really needed to see you and so I booked a plane ticket and it left at like four this morning and I’m really tired but I'm here and I’m with you.”  Y/n barely breathed as she explained herself, but Luke just fell more and more in love with her, if that was possible.

Luke put his hands against her jaw as if he was going to kiss her but he just looked into her eyes and smiled, a big toothy grin that took up his whole face and made her smile too, tears dripping down her cheeks freely now as they hugged again. 

After their hug, he invited her to come to brunch with them unless she was too tired, in which he would stay at home with her, but she agreed to go to brunch because she hasn’t eaten in almost 12 hours and “might drop dead of hunger soon” if she didn’t eat soon. 

They went to a smaller cafe for a lunch/brunch thing where half of them got waffles and the others got hamburgers or pasta. 

They joked and laughed for a few hours, basking in being together as a group for the first time in forever. The boys recounted tales of touring that the girls may have missed and also complimented Y/n on the show they finally watched, to which she shoved her head into Luke’s shoulder in embarrassment, but thanked them nonetheless. 

They all hugged Y/n, as it would likely be the last time they’d see her that weekend, then they all drove to their respective homes. 

--

When Luke and Y/n got inside, Luke grabbed her waist from behind as she squealed, “Put me down, Bubs!” 

He ignored her and just walked up the stairs to his room and threw her onto the bed, causing her to squeal again. 

“So are you saying that you don’t want me, a hot Aussie, to pin you down by the throat and fuck you?” She groaned, not an erotic groan but one of annoyance as she looked up at Luke who was also giggling at her reaction. 

“I hate you! I really do! I really, really hate you! I swear to god, Hemmings, I can not stand you!” Her cheeks became hot as she shoved her head into the pillows.

Luke just giggled as he laid down next to her and pulled her in by the waist and cuddled into her like a koala, “I love you, you know that?” 

“Matter of fact I do know that, and I love you too,” She said, “but I don’t love you when you use my character’s dialogue against me, hurts my heart a little bit, not gonna lie,”

He pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, “Well I’m sorry, how bout we cuddle then we can just watch something on TV or nap, because I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t fall asleep til after 5 and you had an early flight, so I feel like i’m gonna crash soon.” 

“Fine by me, bubs,” She took a deep breath, inhaling the way he smelled as if it were the last time she would be with him and she snuggled her face into his chest a bit more, electing a giggle from him, “Fine by me.”

“I’m still the only hot Aussie you want to fuck though, right?” Luke asked quietly, looking down at her.

“Of course you are, you’re the only Aussie I’d want to fuck, you big baby,” 

They both giggled for another moment and Y/n drifted to sleep, soft snores coming from her parted lips as Luke could almost see the small velvet box sitting in his underwear drawer that he couldn’t wait to give her soon, really soon.

[yandere-sins]

Not the same person, but I really LOVED your Hawks x Winged!reader shot! Can I ask for some kind of spin off, where Hawks is looking after a reader(maybe getting their hairs done, or preening their feathers) and being very possessive about it, cooing what a cute birdie his Darling is, while reader tries not to panic because they dislike ppl touching their wings as a part of trauma? I'm sucker for yanderes being super creepy while doing generally sweet things.

Ah yes, I think every now and then everyone needs a reminder that their yandere is only doing things for them. Because they love them, right? That’s a really good point there, tehe (･ωI got a little off-request here because inspiration sometimes wants a different way than the request is, but I hope it’s still enjoyable!

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

If being bound to chains from the walls around you really was in your best interest, you had your doubts. In fact, you had your doubts about a lot of things. Like being kidnapped, held captive in a dark room, with deadbolts keeping the door shut, and presumably, underground. Yes, your wing-quirk was rare, but not to be underestimated, and if anyone knew this, then Hawks.

The only companion you had, was that damn cuckoo clock on the wall opposite from where he held you throughout the door. The sound of the - immensely funny how Hawks found - gift was something you’d never ever forget again in your whole life. How could you? It made sure you never dozed off more than an hour before tearing you out of your much prettier, much more peaceful dreams, and you despised it for it. 

But at least, it let you know about dinnertime. The only time that Hawks more or less managed to keep up routinely. He was worse with feeding you breakfast, and lunch was almost entirely canceled with the job the hero had, but for dinner - he always said - he wanted to be home. Home with his favorite nightingale for bonding and cuddles afterwards, his idea of a relationship.

Yours... not so much.

Food was something you learned to appreciate. It helped you stay sane to have something warm between your teeth, gave you some strength to wring with your captor for the space you needed afterwards. But Hawks- no, Keigo’s views on how you two should hang out, not only differed from yours but also, any you knew ‘normal’ couples did. Then again, what was normal when your partner was a madman?

As much as you resented the cuckoo for its loud, annoying screams of time, you couldn’t help but feel relieved that you’d be let down from your wall prison, able to move your wrists without the metallic clanking against your ears again. Even with two large wings, you were glad to be put back onto your feet, the strain on your wings’ roots - where they were steadied against the wall with metal chains too, becoming harder the longer you had to endure it. You tried not thinking about the fight that would break out in the morning when he demanded to put you up into chains again, believing this was nothing you should be worried right now. Because when you heard the first turn of the lock on your door, you knew you were in for more trouble than the ones still one night away.

Keigo whistled a happy tune as he pushed open the door, his slippers scrubbing over the floor while he carried in a tray of various little bowls. It seemed like typical japanese food, but you were sure there was nothing more than fast food inside. “Hello, my Dove. How’s your day been? Have you been hanging out here?” Snickering about his own joke, you learned to ignore the stupid remarks. 

You had been commendable lately, making sure to have good conversations with him and to humor his need to be close to you, aside from being a little unwilling to get back into chains every day. He at least didn’t seem mad about that, and you sometimes even thought to see the hints of pity in his eyes whenever he did what he thought he had to. So whatever you had built up with him in terms of a relationship, you didn’t want to mess it up with a useless comment when he was in quite such a good mood. 

Turning the switch on the light, the room lit up, even though the heavy curtains usually didn’t allow much light inside, and you blinked a few times to adjust to it. From his pocket, Keigo made a big show to pull out the keys to your chains, and with the hints of a thankful smile, you helped adjust your limbs to make it easy for him to reach the locks. After so many negative sounds, the clicking of them, with the following release of your arms and wings, was a delight rarely experienced by the average human, and you breathed a breath of relief to be freed of your restrains.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ready to take careful steps towards the table in the corner of the room. However, suddenly he stepped into your field of vision, denying you an easy walk forward, instead, bringing you to a wonky halt. From his grin and open arms, you weren’t sure if he wanted something or if that was just to make you stop, but you decided against trying to pass him, watching his wings sway expectantly with more confusion on your side.

“Don’t you think I deserve a ‘welcome-home’-hug after my long day of work? I’ve been thinking about you all day long! Have you thought about me too?”

Truth be told, whatever had brought him to the conclusion that he deserved anything from you, must have been the same bug that had told him to kidnap you. But once your initial hesitation wore off, you tugged in your wings as tightly as you could to your back, before approaching him. The one-sided hug wasn’t quite what he must have envisioned when he asked for it, but the torture wasn’t long for you anyway.

You only briefly missed his eyes inspecting your wings which seemed to shift every time he moved his hands on your back, but you assured him of his question, which was enough for him to hear for now. “Yeah... Thought about you too.”

However, when you sat there for dinner, Hawks was different enough for you to notice. He was usually the one to always steal from your sparse array of chicken wings and fries, but he seemed absentminded on his chair for the duration of your meal, nibbling on some snagged bone, eyes always falling back over to your wings even when you moved them as far away from his view as possible.

“I think you chipped a feather with your struggling,” he eventually muttered as you wrapped up the bowls, thanking him for the meal. “It’s been bothering me since this morning, what if more are broken?”

You couldn’t help a worried glance over your shoulder, but of course, without spreading them and maybe a few mirrors to see the backside, you wouldn’t be able to determine if everything was okay. “Maybe you should let me take a look-” he offered, a fast hand reaching out for behind your back, but you flinched out of the way fast enough, catching his wrist just in time with a loud, “NO!”

Keigo didn’t spare you the sharp glare from below at your dismissal of his help, letting out a loud hum before retracting back to his seat. You didn’t miss a heartbeat to sit sideways on your chair, bringing your wings as far away as possible from him. “If there’s a broken feather, we need to mend it, Birdy, Darling.”

“I am sure they are fine, just a little... shuffled, yeah.”

“Mhm, I’d still like to see,” he insisted, standing up. He wasn’t a super tall figure in comparison to a lot of his colleagues, but he sure could look menacing when he hovered over you. The only good thing about it was the open space beneath his arm, that you slipped through quickly, giving yourself a mental pat for quick actions.

The only thing you didn’t consider was that Hawks always was quicker. Quicker in hunting people down, quicker in bringing them to the police, and quicker in catching you, knowing exactly what you were going for the moment your eyes fell on the open space. It had been a long time for someone to touch your wings. Even from Hawks, you had mostly kept them away, so you already had forgotten the feeling of a hand brushing into your feathers, gripping them tightly.

With a weak, panic-induced squeal, you stumbled to the side, pulling him with you as his hand held on just a bit tighter under your frantic movements. You could feel the feathers ripping from the root one after the other as he didn’t let go, your breathing picking up speed and lungs unable to handle the stress of the rapid air pouring in and out. Your hyperventilation did nothing to stop him, and with every sound of their fickle stems breaking you remembered more and more the circumstances of your upbringing.

It was just like when they had used you as a feather-maker before. The people you trusted most had regularly plucked them out to sell and make accessories for buyers, even when you bled and asked them not to. This was barely any different, especially not when Hawks clicked his tongue in annoyance the more you struggled.

Not long, and you found yourself in the stranglehold of his arm, bits of fluffy feathers falling from his hand as he finally pulled it away from your wings again, keeping you locked helplessly in his hold. “Calm down, it’s not like I want to hurt you.” There was nothing harder than to calm your racing heart and ragged breath, but you at least tried, especially when the air to breathe became thinner in his chokehold.

“Look, I found the bad boy,” he cooed, holding up his hand triumphantly to show you one long feather he had pulled out, slightly crooked at the end. Though you believed you started to see stars, clinging to his arm desperately, you nodded, quaking a ‘Thank you’ to him as best as you could.

Finally, he let you go, your body sinking to the ground, unable to hold up as every limb seemed to shiver uncontrollably. It took you a good minute to get some control over yourself again, the pain on your neck finally setting in too, and you shuddered just thinking about what just happened. But it wasn’t like Keigo ever gave you time to work through your experiences, especially not when you were so vulnerably open to him now.

You couldn’t possibly have seen his arms coming as they hooked under your shoulders, pulling you back up and over to the bed on which he sat down himself, letting your body glide to the floor. If anyone knew how to treat wings and tickle their instincts, it was Hawks, so it shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did as he drove his hand up your spine, triggering your feathers to ruffle unwillingly. Immediately, you wanted to jump away again, but with a reprimanding ‘Ah-Ah’ his legs wrung around your torso, keeping your locked in your place despite your wiggles. 

It became only worse with the feelings of his hands brushing down your ruffled feather again, spreading them over his lap to get a really good look at them. “There are so many more broken ones. We have to take care of them, you understand that, right? It will only hurt so much to lose a few for the sake of keeping you healthy, I promise.”

“No... please...” you muttered as you heard his words, noticing his fingertips combing through every feather to inspect them one by one. “Don’t be a child now, I know what I’m doing. Just be a good birdie and let me handle this, [Name].”

There was no more resisting his words, Keigo being deadset on fixing your ruined feathers, one way or another. “Take a deep breath,” he advised, and you felt the hot tears roll down your cheeks as those words reminded you of the past. Hearing you following his instructions, Keigo did a trial tug, seeing just how much you’d flinch from it before strengthening his legs around your torso, knowing it would cause a lot of stirring if he really pulled it out.

“On the count of three, my Dove.”

[curly-bangtan]

A Drop of Heaven IV: Unravelling

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: mentions of blood drinking, depression and suicidal thoughts, slightly gruesome, probably a lot of confusion, plot heavy chapter

Word count: 11.1k

A/N: I’m not sure if it’s just me but I feel like my writing style for this series has kind of shifted, so apologies if you don’t like the change. Thank you for being so patient with this update, I know it took forever, but I hope it was worth the wait! ❤︎

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

They say that humans are immensely adaptable creatures. In the face of a drastic change, when thrust into a foreign environment, we possess a biological plasticity that allows us to mould into our novelle surroundings, no matter how alien. All for the purpose of survival. Humans are resilient. Humans survive.

You have survived, and you keep on surviving.

A week has passed. Almost in a flash, yet also agonisingly slowly. But in your memory, all the feeding has merged into a blur. Every time a pair of fangs sink into you, you’ve come to switch off your mind completely. You don’t recall where your consciousness has travelled to, you just remember floating in a cold darkness. Stagnant. Void.

On Thursday, broken and hanging on by a thread, you were tossed to Hoseok. The flash of craze in his eyes, despite your gaping wounds that took longer to heal than it should have, even after drinking Yoongi’s blood, managed to instill a droplet of fear in you. But only just.

Because after Yoongi, you no longer know fear.

Still, Hoseok’s insanity is something you’ve never seen before, a wildness exacerbated by the centuries he has lived.

Hoseok looks at you like a brand new toy. When he touches you, you can feel the tremble of excitement beneath his skin. Sometimes, you wonder if he is the worst one of them all, even worse than Yoongi. Because you at least know what the others are thinking. With Hoseok, he speaks to you as if you’ve been acquainted for years, asks how you fare as if he doesn’t know of your suffering. He smiles at you like he means it, and you know he is genuinely happy to see you, but not for the reason you hope for.

“You seem sad…” He had said, staring at you intently as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair out of your face. “Yoongi hurt you?”

Your eyes were transfixed on one spot of the colourful wallpaper of his Feed Room. Your head barely nodded.

You didn’t see his mouth quirk up in amusement, but you could sense it. Hoseok was prodding you, like a zoo animal. Testing your temperament, seeing how broken you are. And you were too tired, too drained to put on a show like the circus monkey he wanted.

“No worries, Y/N, it won’t hurt with me, I promise.” The ghost of his lips traced your shoulder. “We will have so much fun together.” His long fingers prickle your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. “Just relax and smile for me.”

It had hurt, at least very briefly before you could shut it out. Out of everyone, Hoseok has the least control. He never knows when to stop. Though he wasn’t bleeding you dry just yet, it visibly took him his entire mental strength to cease his drinking. And once he stopped, he began laughing maniacally.

“Sweet Satan, we’re in for a ride.” He kissed around the puncture wound at your collarbone where blood was weeping out of you. You didn’t move or make a sound.

The sire bond hadn’t surfaced at all. But it didn’t need to in order for you to ignore the pain; you’ve grown so accustomed to it by now that you hardly even blink, sire bond or no. You’re afraid of yourself, the lifeless husk you’re becoming.

The scariest aspect of Hoseok is perhaps how quickly he changes his mood after feeding. His ability to act as if he hadn’t just ripped into you, taking your around the house and telling you stories of his adventurous life while you eat, is uncanny. And when you fail to put on a smile for him, because how could you, his eyes would darken, jaw tighten.

“Isn’t that just hilarious? Can you believe I did that back then?” He would ask, and you’re not sure why your entertainment brings him validation.

But for self-preservation, you have learnt to giggle like you’re enjoying yourself and say cheerily, “I know right! That sounds wild!”

And Hoseok would nod madly, giddy from your approval, acting blind to your ingenuity as if he hadn’t forced the response he wanted out of you.

That was your Thursday.

.

Jimin was a salve, a soothing balm over your hidden wounds.

You no longer care whether his affection towards you is genuine. Beggars can’t be choosers, you’ll take any kindness where it is doled. It’s funny because, amidst suffering, amidst torture, you are able to resist the floods of tears that should be completely justified in your predicament. Yet as soon as someone shows the remotest care towards you, you feel the ocean pushing against your brick walls, threatening to rupture the dam.

It wretched your heart how tender Jimin was with you. You had almost broken down in his arms when he brushed over the skin where Yoongi and Hoseok had torn into. Your wounds are invisible. Vampire blood hides your cuts under fresh new skin, but doesn’t truly heal them. Yet Jimin had managed to sense your scars nonetheless.

He kissed them softly. You knew he wanted to kiss your mouth too, yet he didn’t. Is this what respect feels like?

Thus, you were completely willing when he fed on you. His preferred feeding spot is the inside of your thighs. When his cold breath arrived there, you could have sworn you felt something flutter in your core.

You had wanted him. You’re embarrassed to admit but you want him. Completely on your own accord, as the sire bond had also failed to lock in place with him too. You wondered if it was the damage Yoongi had done…

But then Saturday came, and the moment Taehyung’s fangs touched your flesh, you were swept away.

At first, it felt like drowning, as you struggled against the formidable waves that would not let you resurface. But then you calmed, a serenity took hold of you, and you began floating in the most soothing, clear blue water. The water healed you, almost, as you just drifted there on your back, watching the star-splatted night sky.

Taehyung swam up beside you, those sharp fangs of his never withdrawn, a wolfish yet reassuring smile, telling you it’s okay, everything will be okay, I can make you feel good.

And he did make you feel good.

The one thing you crave the most in this world is affection, you’ve come to learn. With Yoongi, you had wanted to feel something so badly, something other the numb wreckage of your mind you had trapped yourself in. Except he had made you feel worse, worthless, self-loathing just like him. With Hoseok, you were a broken doll, smile when expected to, laughing when required. You weren’t a person. With Jimin, you had been too grateful for his tenderness to function, unable to comprehend how, for once in the longest time, someone is treating you as if they care about you.

With Taehyung, you grew desperate to cling onto this intimacy.

It was like a drug, flooding your mind with peace and euphoria, drinking him in as much as he is drinking you. His kisses felt unhealthily good, and they tricked you into thinking that you’re worthy of someone like Taehyung, someone so beautiful, so intoxicating. He fucked you like he was making love to you, but also not. It came as waves - his sweetness, then his ferality.

You couldn’t get enough of it. You know it’s no good to feel so attached, when he probably sees you as no more than an object, his meal, but you couldn’t help it. You were just so desperate for that feeling of being desired.

He promised to make you feel good, make you forget, and that he did.

You hadn’t known what to expect from Jungkook. As you sat, waiting, on the bed of his Feed Room on Sunday, you pondered Jin’s words of his past.

He was a bright star once, before this curse. And even after, he had fed on humans once. The curiosity gnawed at your brain, pleading to find out what had happened.

Jungkook never showed up.

And so you slept the day and night away, replenishing your health with soup that Seokjin delivered, until you woke up and the cycle continued once more.

.

You watch the round dewdrop roll off the viridescent green leaf, and splatter onto the cold white tile. The greenhouse has soon become one of your favourite places to pass time. The walls of that manor are suffocating.

The faint sound of a piano whispers into your ears. You shut your eyes, appreciating the beauty of the pieces as it plays flawlessly. You wonder who is pouring out their emotions to the ebony and ivory sisters.

The glass of the greenhouse is fogged by the dawn dew, shielding you from the world outside and those who wish to take from you. Almost smiling, you pace around the kingdom of plants, enjoying the tranquility. Today is Thursday; Hoseok allows you to do as you please after he feeds on you; though it could be of his genuine good intent, you suspect it’s to instill you with a false sense of freedom. Let the dog out of its cage, let her roam their land, so the bitch never seeks to leave the house.

The thought of escaping had crossed your mind a profusion of occurrences the past week. Though, at this very moment, you don’t think there is much purpose in leaving anymore. Here, you at least are provided food and shelter, and maybe one or two friends whose friendship comes with a price. It’s not living in here, you’re merely surviving. But you’re surviving nonetheless. Compared to out there, where you’d be left to fend for yourself, constantly fleeing from seven vampires who you’re eternally bonded to.

You’ve thought about killing yourself too. A coward’s way out, but hey, you’d rather be a coward than a blood bag for the rest of your life. But when you had snuck into the kitchen last night after Yoongi’s heartless torment and raised a knife to your chest, an invisible force had pushed against your arms, freezing them in place and preventing them from taking action.

The sireship is so cruel. It humanises the vampires who captured you, makes you empathise with them, and forbids you from harming yourself.

On deeper thought, you wouldn’t have been able to kill yourself that way anyway. The moment your blood is spilled, in a house full of vampires, at least one of them is bound to smell it right away. They would have healed you before the pain could kick in - their way of sweeping everything under the rug nowadays - and you would’ve been back to the start. Except worse, as they would then know of your intention.

You crouch down beside a rose bush, petting its velvet white petals between your fingers. Flowers are beautiful yet fickles things, but roses have thorns. They lure people in with their beauty, but if anyone tries to pluck them off and keep one for themselves, they get cut. Your fingers travel down its stem to where a thorn is staring enticingly back at you.

You push the pad of your finger into its prick, hard. You don’t feel a thing. Not even as a bead of crimson oozes from the cut. It’s chilling.

Then you sense a presence behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet with those of Namjoon. Watering pot in one hand, he watches you, brows furrowed at your previous act.

“What are you doing?” There’s a hesitancy in his voice, almost as if he doesn’t recognise you.

“Admiring the roses.”

You no longer speak to Namjoon in that defying tone of yours. He was right, there’s no use in challenging him, trying to topple his superiority complex. It only took a week to tame you into a docile creature. You’re ashamed.

“No, I mean why did you purposely touch the thorns like that?” Still frowning, he stomps over, water in his gardening can sloshing about. As he sinks down beside you, his air of intimidation infiltrates your peaceful bubble.

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to know what it feels like.” You mumble. Setting the pot aside, Namjoon snatches your finger and brings it close to his face for examination.

“Well, it was obviously going to cut you.” He hisses. When his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your blood is vastly tempting him.

“I know.” You pull your finger away, not that you don’t trust his self control, but because his touch was beginning to scald. The bond was trying to take hold of you despite it not being the day where you belong to him, and you hate how drawn you are to him because of it.

Spinning away, you stand and begin pacing towards the door. Your moment of peace has been disturbed, there’s no point in staying here anymore. But then you hear him call after you, “W-Wait.” The vulnerable expression that greets you when you look back takes you by surprise. “Um… You spend an awful lot of time in here nowadays… How come?”

You hadn’t been aware that Namjoon notices your growing presence in the greenhouse, not since you have never come across him here before. “I like it in here, I feel safe. Why, am I not allowed?” Your question lacks the challenging impudence it should have, more like a young girl asking her father for permission. You’re disappointed in yourself at how quickly you’ve deflated, even at the obnoxious Namjoon. Yet, you’ve lost your drive at standing your ground, you’ve got no fight left.

“N-No!” He is quick to dispute, standing up from his crouch as well. “I just meant… Nevermind.” His voice trails weakly to a tense silence. You watch his eyes flicker up at yours rather nervously, trying to decipher his intention. Then he speaks again, “I’ve just seen you here quite a few times… I enjoy being here myself; I find tending to my plants right before the sun rises fully a therapeutic pastime.”

His admission strikes you. You would never imagine a man as demanding, efficient and severe as Namjoon to enjoy a hobby as mundane as gardening. You’re not sure what to make of it to be honest, nor can you understand why he’s speaking to you so… conversationally. Is this his attempt at making peace with you?

“Well, you’ve tended to them very well, they’re beautiful. I enjoy being here too.” You guess you should accept his decency. He had been rather distant on Monday, leaving you to your own devices, only feeding on you once and hardly speaking a word. His contrasting moods are confusing.

Namjoon’s lips purse, brows raise ever so slightly, as if surprised by your kind response. His eyes flicker to your finger again. The tiny cut has yet to dry, fresh blood still leaking from the open wound despite its miniscule size. You should probably have some food; your body is frail, especially after Yoongi yesterday.

“I’m going to leave you to it, sir.” You nod courteously, but freeze as the name you address him as slips out of you. No, it was drawn out of you from the bond. It doesn’t take a second for heat to rush to your face in embarrassment. Namjoon noticeably stiffens. Gulps.

The coil within you is starting to wind. It tightens around your chest like thorned vines, piercing into your heart the more you try to wriggle free.

You know he feels it too.

But before he can take a step towards you, as you sense he intends to, you’re turning around and speeding out of the greenhouse. And it’s not until you’re within the confines of Hoseok’s Feed Room that you feel the liberty to breathe again, Namjoon’s sire bond reluctantly waning into the background.

.

You could tell something was off about Hoseok straight away when he entered the room. There were multiple telltale signs.

One: He was stumbling over his feet, tripping over to the bed in a drunken manner as he navigated the room. His words were slurred, hardly coherent sentences at all. His wine red hair in disarray.

Two: He smelled noticeably different. Though you’ve not spent more than two days as his feed, Hoseok has a clear distinct smell, most notable from the other vampires. He smells clean, sweet even; it’s the one thing you can’t help but indulge in about him. Yet even to your human nose, he had a weird, doggish musk to him as he approached you.

Three: From his rogue smile dribbled drying blood. And no, it wasn’t a mere droplet of crimson, he was drenched in blood, chin to toes. Despite the gore you’ve witnessed, it was still a chilling sight.

And four: Though his eyes were half shut, you briefly saw the way they flashed beneath his lids. Only half conscious, the other half gone and crazed, though full of purpose - purpose to get to you.

You catch him in open arms as he falls onto you, the mattress dipping at the sudden crash of his weight. “Hoseok, what happened?” Your voice harbours more concern than you would like to show, and you don’t know why you care at all.

His face presses against the crook of your neck, his lips stretching into a smile at your presence, right over your pulse. His hands wander to your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You recoil from his forwardness, but with nowhere to back away to except further into the bed. You try to ignore how pleasant the tip of his nose feels as it rubs against your skin.

“Missed you…” Hoseok mumbles, still grinning widely, mouth travelling to your jaw where his warm breath tickles. His breath should be cold; the heat tells you that the feeding of whoever’s blood this was recent.

You can’t help but feel flustered at his sudden touchiness. Of all vampires here, save for Jungkook, you would say you’ve been the least… intimate with Hoseok. It has never been your dynamic. It was always him flinging you around like a puppy shredding its new stuffed toy then chewing on the spilled cotton. So this is… new.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask again, trying to pry his arms off your torso but to no avail.

“Sweetness…” He mutters unintelligibly, and you shudder as his teeth grazes your ear, an involuntarily sensual tingle following.

“H-Hoseok…” Your breath hitches, his proximity growing more and more unignorable. So you grab his face, cheeks cupped in one hand, and shake him for good measure. His closing lids flash open like gradually awakening from slumber, yet still not recovered from his daze. “What happened to you?”

“Werewolves.”

An icy cold settles in your bones. Werewolves. There are such things as werewolves as well. Vampires, witches and werewolves. What other creatures of horror are plaguing your world that you don’t know of? That explains that muttish stench he carries. The blood he’s soaked in… Is it his or theirs? You think you feel slightly sick.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you point his drooping head at you again. “Tell me what happened.”

“Those stupid mutts… picking a fight… Taehyung, Jungkook and I had to put them in their place.” Hoseok begins peeling himself off you, and finally your body is no longer crushed under his. Your hands around him fall to your side idly as you watch him stumble off the bed and head towards the door, though he doesn’t make it two steps before tumbling onto his knees. You hurry after him to catch his upper body before he falls completely onto the ground.

His shoulders in your grip, you try to examine him for any wounds, and though there are some tears in his clothes, the skin underneath has been healed clean. So why? “Hoseok, look at me.” Your voice is urgent, authoritative, it almost has the life it once had to it. His eyes lock onto yours, this time permanently without closing. They’re blank, the amber green murky with an unreadable shroud. “What’s wrong with you? You need to tell me.”

So with obvious effort, he grunts out, “Werewolf blood makes us… It’s like… wine to us. Too much and our mind is” hiccup “inebriated.”

Oh. You let out a sigh of relief.

Hoseok is drunk on werewolf blood.

Though, you’re not sure why you’re relieved that he’s alright. Surely you should be wishing for the opposite.

With tremendous endeavour, you drag him up onto his feet and walk him to the ensuite bathroom, huffing as you sit him down on the edge of the lavish bathtub that every Feed bathroom contains but you have yet to use. Hoseok is uncooperative, trying for detours on the bed, attempting to hop onto the sink. With the knowledge of his intoxicated state now, he appears like a little child, an innocently fascinated smile constantly plastered on his face, too easily impressed by even his own reflection in the mirror. For you, it’s a contrasting sight. Though he has always possessed a child-like temperament in his playfulness and love to goof at silly things, his usual underlying insanity is nowhere to be found right now.

It makes his company more soothing knowing that his mind absolves of any ulterior motive.

You don’t know why you’ve taken it upon you to do so, but you rummage around to find a clean towel. Glancing at the mirror as you twist the faucet to dampen the towel, you try not to notice how you scarcely recognise yourself anymore.

Hoseok groans at the wet coldness you press onto his chin, the dried crusted blood once again watering into a river of rusty brown-red. His fingers fly up to catch yours, trying to pry the scrubbing towel off his face. “Mmmm.” He whines in protest, shut eyes frowning. You ignore his brewing tantrum, towel travelling down to absorb the red stains of his neck, though you clean with more gentleness now.

He isn’t so bad like this, you guess.

Still, the more you try to understand him, the more you lose yourself in the maze that is his psyche. The more you think you can predict him, the more he comes out with an unexpected complexity that adds another layer to his mask. Who is Hoseok? The entertainer, the mood maker, always seeking to please his guests? The little boy who wishes not to be tamed? The spoilt brat whose greed grows with the more he has? Who is he really?

You straighten and regard his state. Head drooping sluggishly, fingers fidgeting at anything in his reach, you realise a cold towel isn’t going to help him. You’re all too familiar from the nights your uncle stumbled back, the reek of alcohol finding you before he enters the room, to know that this state of inebriation needs to be conquered before he falls asleep, lest you wish to face an ill-tempered brute the next day.

“Hoseok.” You tap his jaw lightly, rousing him, and he looks at you with surprising focus that makes you cower a little. “You should shower.”

He blinks sleepily, and you think he doesn’t comprehend at first, but then he takes your hand in his and stands up. As he does, his face zooms dangerously close to yours, pointy tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from brushing your lips. Your heart jumps. There’s a lag in your brain before you know to step back.

“Come with me, then.”

It’s evident that his whole demeanour has shifted. Gone is the childish giddiness he had. In its place: a solemn gravity, seemingly out of nowhere, his lips pressed into a taut line, jaw tense, a pinning glare possessing you unwaveringly. Even his voice has dropped deeper, forgoing its tangy cheer.

It takes more than a second for what he means to sink in. He wants you to join his shower.

“W-What? No!” You yank your hand from his, heat blooming across your cheeks.

At this point, you’re no prude, intimacy has been breached with several if not most of these vampires you share a roof with. Yet your dynamic and circumstance with each of them differs greatly. With Yoongi, it is a release of mutual resentment; Taehyung, it’s a seductive dance to pleasure you both; Namjoon, a reluctant magnetisation that you wish not to dwell on; Seokjin, a confusion of emotions and desperation; Jimin, a soft gentle healing. There has always been a sexual implication hinting at the back of your mind with these five, and with some, you’ve acted upon it. But never with Hoseok.

Because Hoseok has been too much of an enigma. Never once showing that type of attraction towards you, only a fascination that sits on the borderline of lunacy. Always just - ogling at you like you’re a show pony, marveling at the taste of your blood as if it’s a drug. And the confusion he inoculates when he acts as your friend, like he genuinely enjoys your company. Too baffling.

But right now, this very evening, something stirs in your stomach. A new sensation as another layer of him is peeled back to reveal yet another persona. A man desiring affection?

He looks at you for a while, as if he wants to say something. The absence of the smile that usually stalks his lips every moment of the day is throwing you off. You think he’s going to push further but he doesn’t, he simply tilts his head and says, “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Legs still rather wobbly, he makes his way, hand on the gold marble of the sink to balance his wavering weight, towards the shower. Standing there, stupefied at his sudden change, you don’t realise that he does not intend on waiting for you to leave before striping until he tears his blood-drenched shirt off crudely. Buttons fly towards the wall, scattering about in little clinks.

Faint scar-like marks dart across his back like a violent painting.

You’re transfixed. The light lines are not ridged, merely running smoothly on the surface of his skin. Some look like claw marks, some bite marks seemingly from an animal. Those werewolves he mentioned? Some look fresh, while others older.

But that doesn’t make sense. Why does he, a vampire with supernatural healing, have scars?

“So do you want to join or not?” He slurs, face half turned towards you, yet eyes trained low. His profile is striking.

“I- No. Um. I’m going to bed. Bye.” Your eyes immediately fall to the ground. Still incredibly flustered, you spin around and head back to your room, mentally trying to shake off the image of his scar-inflicted back.

At the door, you pause, back still facing him, and ask, “Will you be fine alone?”

You hear the whirl of his belt being pulled out, blood continuing to roar in your ears.

“I’ve been alone all these centuries - I think I’ll be fine.”

That’s not what you meant, but when you hear his zipper, you hurry to shut the door behind you, pondering the sourness of his reply.

.

His shower is quick, the water sounds stop not too long after you climb into bed. Though, Hoseok stays in the bathroom for a period of time before coming out. You debated going in to check in on him incase he has fallen unconscious or something of that sort, whatever werewolf blood does to vampires. But you weren’t sure if he would be dressed, so you stay tucked under the covers in a small huddle, quietly trying to dissect his character in your head.

The door eventually opens, though it doesn’t swing open as Hoseok normally does to announce his entry. He’s still in that odd sombre mood.

Lying on your side, curled up into a small lump, your back is facing him. Eyes shut yet wide awake, you hear a drop of water hit the floor every few seconds. You can’t resist the urge to look up, to see whether he has washed away the blood and intoxication.

But at the sight of his naked body, manhood only covered by the towel hanging loosely around his waist, you nearly roll off. Though his skin is mostly dry, there is still a lustre glossed over his unearthly sculpted body. The room is dark, his silhouette cast by the bathroom lights behind him. Despite the poor vision, you are mesmerised by the ridges of his abdomen, chiseled so perfectly that you wonder how they feel like beneath your touch. A defined V is carved on his pelvis, pointing down to a devilish place you’re glad the darkness doesn’t allow you to see.

You catch sight of his hand that is bunching up the towel loosen, just in time for you to swing back down into your foetal position away from him before you hear the cloth drop carelessly.

Is he purposely trying to tizzy you?

Your eyes close firmly as he paces to the dresser, and they stay that firmly closed while you hear him dress, hear the bathroom lights click off.

You jolt when you feel the pressure on the other side of that mattress, your knees curling up tighter, inconspicuously inching further away. To your relief, as he climbs into bed, he keeps his distance, doesn’t reach for you like you were scared he would.

The silence hums loudly, rhythmed by his shallow breaths. Is he finally sober?

No sound. Not a word. For Hoseok, that’s worrying.

Damn yourself, why do you care? “Are you feeling better?” You almost bite your tongue as you ask, cursing your inability to keep to yourself. At least you don’t turn to face him.

Silence, still. Steady breaths.

You begin to wonder if he fell asleep the second his back sunk onto the mattress. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

But then you hear the lightest sigh. “Feeling less drunk, but head still pounding. Dizzy.”

You’re unaccustomed to the deepness of his voice, wondering where its usual loud annoying cheeriness has strayed off to. You don’t want to say you miss it, you certainly don’t. You just… grew so used to it.

This version of Hoseok is too human. It’s uncanny.

Despite laying there in silence, it doesn’t feel silent at all. The tension is blaringly loud in the air, almost a physical pressure pushing up against you, goading you to do something. Turn around and face him. Let him feed on you to replenish. But no, he’s fed a lot today already. Your collar still feels sore. Find another vampire and ask them to cure him. But at this time of day, where the sun is already almost completely uncovered, they should all be asleep. Then at least talk to him, something, before he resumes back to his normal self that you have to cower from.

“What are those scars on your back?”

Your voice startles him. Though you can’t see well, you notice him jolt. Was that too much to ask? Too personal? And honestly, do you actually want to know the truth to your question or would you sleep much sounder without it?

He doesn’t answer.

Instant regret. You count your breaths, shut your eyes and try not to be hyper-aware of short the distance of an arm’s length actually is between your back and his side.

You shouldn’t have asked that. Of course it would be a sensitive topic. What else could explain the literal scars on his back that have failed to heal even with his supernatural abilities?

There is a line drawn between you and Hoseok. There are boundaries, though some particularly vague and hazy, between you and each vampire, but the line is especially distinct with him. You have to remember, you can’t act the same as you do with Seokjin or Taehyung with someone like Hoseok or Yoongi. He’s not your friend. None of them are your friends, really. Hoseok, one of the least of all.

Who knows what psychological trigger you’ve switched on by asking such question? Curiosity did kill the cat afterall.

“They…” It’s your turn to jounce, his response unexpected. “I don’t know, I guess there’s a limit to what my abilities can heal, and to be honest, I like the look of them anyway. I think there’s a word for it, but my mind isn’t working properly… M-something. Ma- You know, the opposite of sadism.”

You know.

“Masochism…?”

“Yeah, that. Masochism.”

The room goes quiet after he mutters the last syllable of a word you would never anticipate to be his answer. Hoseok is a masochist? He enjoys pain inflicted onto him? If it were even possible for your blood to go colder, you feel a chill spear through your veins.

Fuck, these vampires are dark. And you thought you were morbid…

“Why…?” So Hoseok is at the opposite of the spectrum from Yoongi. You vaguely understand Yoongi, how he lashes out due to self hatred. It’s a cycle of pushing people away due to fear of intimacy from his loneliness, and as a result feeling more alone. He likes to inflict pain because that way, he can convince himself that he’s an unlovable monster, and pretend that he is choosing to be alone. But with Hoseok, you cannot fathom how or why he enjoys pain. How could anyone? “If you don’t mind me asking…”

You’re tempted to turn, eye contact is human nature, but you don’t think you can stomach it. There is an inexplicable weight, an intensity bestowed. You feel as though you’re sinking in quicksand, a slow agonising submergence, swallowed up by the burden you’re seeking to know about but can’t resist.

“It’s so boring, living like this.” He mumbles. You hear him rustle around to get comfortable, or maybe to inch closer to you. “We’ve been alive for more than two thousand years. Life begins to get rather insipid, nothing really... stimulates me anymore. Yeah, fight with demons, get wasted on werewolf blood, sure, pretty fun.” Hiccup. “But after so many years, you start to not really feel anything anymore.”

Truthfully, you think you get it. You get his inertia, the lack of anything exciting him about life.

“Like yeah, I know how you see me. I’m this over-the-top, dramatic class clown caricature, so you probably won’t believe me when I tell you about how bored I actually am. But I am.” hiccup

“So pain is your remedy?”

“I guess, yeah, pain is my remedy. You know that feeling when your skin gets cut, that rush of cold that infiltrates you?” Unfortunately, all too well. “It’s pretty exciting. There’s no feeling like it.” hiccup “It’s just so refreshing, to be able to feel somewhat mortal. Get torn apart a little, because I know I’ll stitch back up together anyway. It’s the only thing that brings me thrill nowadays. Before we found you.”

“What if you don’t?” Vampires are immortal, but not invincible afterall.

“Then I guess I don’t.”

Hoseok says it with a finality, as if death is no big ordeal to him. If it happens, it happens. He’s not self-destructive perse, you know he isn’t actively looking to die. He just wants to feel something. Like you.

Yeah, you think you get it…

Despite the difference in the sufferings you’ve been exposed to, monotony breeds insensitivity to most stimulants of life. Food tastes blander, colours duller, sense of self starts to ebb away. Hoseok had been a cheerful man before becoming a vampire, one requiring extravaganza in his life, flamboyance, because his life was a show, the embodiment of entertainment. How long did that take to crumble? For him to grow out of parties and parades because he realised that they could no longer fill that void?

The fall from a life of exhilaration to one where you were only passing time is tragic. He puts on a show to convince himself that he’s having fun, imposes it on everyone around him.

You’re beginning to dissect the animus of Hoseok, what truly underlies his insanity.

It’s disconcerting, how much he’s opening up when he isn’t sober. He has kept this in for a while, you can guess.

“Hey…” He slurs sleepily, though you hear his purpose, a sort of determination to stay away and say one last thing. And finally, you turn.

In this darkness, you hardly see a thing more than the shadows cast around him. You can’t see his facial expression, and you think it’s perhaps a good thing; you don’t wish for it to confuse you more. What throws you off is the heat emitted from his body. Vampires are cold creatures, warmth absent in their touch. You try not to think about the werewolf blood still coursing through his veins to keep him warm, how it makes it feel as though a human lays beside you rather than the monster in actuality.

“Yes?”

Your reply falls flat. As your vision adjusts to the pitch black, you are hyper aware of the stillness of the night that encases you.

“I…”

He.

It’s silent. So silent you can hear the thrumming of your chest.

“Yes?” You repeat, egging him on. His hesitancy has a depressive tone to it, it is somehow so genuine, rather than for dramatic effect like one would expect from him.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words shoot into you like bullets of chaos and disarray, their shells ricocheting. Your ear rings as if deafened by an explosion. Maybe this is a dream. You can’t tell these days anymore.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He sounds throaty, still dragging his words as he tries to grapple at sobriety but fails. He also sounds like he means what he’s saying, like he feels terribly guilty.

You don’t understand.

“What do you mean… Why…?” Your eyes drop to the distance between you, fixing on the shadow of a crease you can barely make out.

“I’m just-” Hoseok tosses onto his side to look at you. You stare at that shadow harder. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“But wh-”

“Every time I look at you, I just want to, I don’t know, shake you. No, not you. Shake myself, or my brothers. I want to shatter some glass, sprint at a wall, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what I’m saying. But yeah, every time I look at you, I just feel so fucking bad, man. I’ve- I guess I’ve been pretty good at keeping the guilt at bay all these centuries - we kind of have to, or we wouldn’t have survived two thousand years. But like, when I look at you, I can’t forget how much you’ve suffered. That kind of damage scars you forever. I can fucking see that you’re a shell of a person.”

Your throat constricts. You hate this feeling. Not that people have ever pitied you before, seeing as there was no witness of your uncle’s abuse, there was no one to feel sorry for you. But right now, you get it. That wash of humiliation from the small satisfaction you gain from someone pitying you, someone acknowledging how bad you have it, all the shit you’ve been through. It makes you sick.

Yes, you’re damaged. Good that he knows. Good that it tears apart his conscience. You’re glad that it makes him feel horrible.

Then why? You want to ask him. But you know he’s not finished with his piece.

“I see that you try to hide how fucking empty you are when you’re with me, try to act like you’re enjoying my company and actually find my jokes funny. I guess that’s why I keep trying to make you laugh. I know I’m annoying as fuck. Hell, I would hate me if I were anyone but me. But, I don’t know, I just want to stir some reaction from you, make you feel less hollow. I know it fucking sucks for you here, and I want to make it suck less, you know?”

A shiver fires down your spine. You have never thought about it like that.

Drunk words, sober thoughts. Or so the saying goes.

All this time, you thought that Hoseok views you as some sort of dancing monkey, forcing you to perform tricks for him, smiling, laughing, stroking his ego.

But the truth is, he wants to spark some life back into you. His jokes, his stories, his antics. They have been for you, not him.

Your throat trembles.

“All that shit with your uncle, God, it was brutal, even for me. It was the fact that you couldn’t escape from it. You were living through hell for how many years? All because of us. And now you’re stuck here with us, have to continue to endure. It just doesn’t stop for you, does it? And I know it makes no sense coming from me. Especially from me, I guess. You know, I really wish I could control myself. But that sensation that overtakes our minds, I wish I could describe it to you, it’s fucking insane. Your blood tastes like a drug to me, I don’t know, heroin or something. Except it doesn’t kill me, it kills you.” His voice is drifting, quieter, duller, slower. Like he’s mumbling without knowing he’s speaking out loud. The words just keep tumbling out.

Glancing up, you see that his eyes are shut, chest rising heavily, on the brink of sleep. You want him to fall asleep. You don’t want to keep listening. Because it sickens you knowing that buried under all those masks is an emotionally empathetic person, hardly the maniac you thought him to be. Because it would be so much easier if he was that, so much easier to hate your tormentor and see him as a monster.

But actually, he isn’t. He senses your pain, holds remorse for his actions.

You hate it. You hate it.

Just let me believe that you’re pyschopathic.

“Anyway... what I was saying is that…” His head droops to the other side. Sleep will siege him soon, you’re glad to know. “I know I’m a hypocrite. Namjoon would give me hell if he heard me sympathising with the Feed, but I truly mean no malicious intent towards you... This is just the way things are for us…” His breathing slows, deepens. Words only just more than a slur of syllables. You lay there, clutching your fists, waiting for it to be over, but only for you to lie awake and ponder this revelation for hours. “I wish… I wish it didn’t have to be you... after all that you went through. But I guess you only went through that because of what you are… Hurting you was the only way to protect you...”

You don’t even hear it at first, silently contemplating his words. But then the last bit sinks in.

“Wait, wait, what?” You break your silence. Hoseok has stopped making sense, you shouldn’t expect more from a drunken vampire, but he had been making sense before. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean what?” He mumbles and rolls away, but you grab his sleeve and prevent him from turning and entering a realm of dreams.

“What you said in the end. About how… I don’t know... I went through that shit because of what I am. What do you mean? And hurting me was the only way to protect me.” Your blood has gone icy. You don’t want to be left with nothing but those words and your endless imagination of what they could possibly mean for the next few hours.

“You know, the spell…”

Spell.

“What spell?” But his eyes are completely closed, hardly a stir at your question to indicate he heard you at all. His sleeve bunches up under your fist, you gently rattle his face. “Hoseok, what spell? What are you talking about?”

He tries to shake you off, frowning in annoyance at your disturbance. “You know. That spell, the one to keep you safe.”

“Keep talking about the spell, Hoseok. Please. Safe from what?” You continue to shake him, stomach tying into knots. What spell?

“Safe from us, whatever Creatures of the Night your blood attracts.” Vexed, he grabs your wrist, eyes half opening, and shoves them away. “The spell the angels put, remember?”

“I don’t remember. Tell me about the spell, what was it?” You hear the urgency, the degrading desperation in your voice, but you need to know. You need to. What fucking spell to keep you safe?

“It’s complicated. Some twisted magic? You know that car accident with your parents? That was some Hell’s magic, when the demons started to find you... Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires. They would’ve taken you if the angels hadn’t been watching closely and intervened. Then they, the angels I mean, decided to shield your aura, you know, your angel aura. The thing that lets the supernatural know that you have angel blood? It’s a distinctive scent for us, and I’m guessing other creatures too. It attracts demons and whatnots and helps them hunt you. It’s like a beacon of light. So they had to suppress your aura. And the only way to suppress angel aura is to suppress the angel themselves. Make them suffer, endure tremendous pain, dull their virtues, make them lose the will to live, et cetera. That way you don’t ‘shine’ anymore, and we won’t be able to find you. So I guess they did some sort of spell, or whatever heavenly magic, on your uncle so that his mind was warped and unconsciously fixated on hurting you... It’s fucking dark and twisted, especially for angels... To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. That’s what irks me... Don’t know why but it just makes me feel so fucking bad…”

Something churns violently in your stomach. And you would have thrown up if you had eaten much previously.

None of it makes sense. Or maybe it’s starting to make too much sense.

You can’t believe it. You fucking can’t believe it.

You let Hoseok drift off to sleep, the weight of his body falling limp. You let go of his face.

You just can’t. Fucking. Believe it.

There’s no way this is true. He’s drunk. He has made up some story in his head. There’s no way.

Because there’s simply no way that the past few years of your endless torture has been a gift from the angels, a path paved for you to endure. To shield you. To save you.

In what sick universe…

You scramble off the bed and rush into the bathroom, ignoring the loud pads of your feet against the cold wooden floor. Your fingers tremble as you turn the light switch on and slam the door behind you with your back. For a moment, all you hear is the ocean of your roaring blood.

That’s why that night your parent died had felt so strange, so off, your disagreement with your parents so out of the blue. That’s why there was a storm. That’s why a car drove into you and killed your parents. That’s why your grandmother died so shortly after despite normally having great health. That’s why there was a sudden change in your uncle’s demeanour, as if a switch had been flipped in him. That’s why he had locked you in the basement, broke your legs routinely to stop you from escaping, beat you and your sister without reason.

It was demons and Creatures of the Night and a so-called “protection” ploy from angels.

You want to scream. As your back slides down the door, you want to scream at the top of your lungs. The amalgamation of emotions is tearing you apart, piece by piece.

This is it, the tipping point, the loss of your sanity.

His words play over and over again in your head, a drunken confession that he probably did not realise the meaning of in his state.

To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it.

Like a prayer.

Panting hysterically, you feel your mind shattering into a million shards. You can’t comprehend it. You don’t want to. You don’t want to know that the pain you felt, day after day, for what felt like an eternity had been a plot. A fucking spell. You don’t want to know. You don’t want to. You don’t want. You don’t. You.

You. Can’t. Do. This.

01:01. The crash. The beatings. The death of your sister.

It’s possible that you are crying, shaking, but you’re not aware.

And after crumbling on the bathroom floor, for minutes, maybe hours, you make your decision.

You run.

.

The sun is still out.

That means they can’t come out yet. They can’t come after you. They’re probably still asleep, unbeknownst of your escape.

The house had been eerily quiet as you snuck out. And as soon as you stepped foot outside the front door, you had felt it.

The incredible weight holding you down. Like the manor itself was shackled to your ankles. Walking away felt like trudging through mud, dragging this boggling heaviness with you. Every sire bond that has formed was shrieking in your head, wailing, begging for you to stop leaving.

It was purely your willpower and determination that gave you the strength to overcome the supernatural ties that tethered you to those vampires. You had to ignore how much your limbs were aching, how much your heart was straining. You just had to run away. Keep going and don’t look back. It was melting your brain into a puddle, but your mind had been in ruins anyway.

You didn’t know where you were going, the forest faced every side of the house, but you just kept going, as far from them as possible. If you ran down one direction, you were bound to meet an end at some point, find civilisation.

There is no plan. No plan as you fled the walls of those wretched vampires. You just knew you couldn’t stay, couldn’t continue living like that with the knowledge that was spilled onto you. There’s no way you could have pretend not to know and face those vampires, let them drain your blood when they had been part of the reason behind all your suffering.

Fuck the Heavens and the Hells. Fuck the angels, the demons, the vampires, werewolves, witches, all the damnable fucking supernatural.

Angel blood in your veins. A fucking curse.

Every bone in your body is starting to hurt, lungs growing weaker every gasping breath. You keep running, ignoring the overbearing ache and faint voices in your head chanting sorrysorrysorry.

Sorry, child, we’re sorry.

.

The sun has set. It is dark. And you are still running through the forest, no inkling at all of how far you’ve gone and how far is left until you find your rescuer.

The night is eerie, enveloping you in a fog of oblivion, no perception of anything beyond this forest. Howling can be heard from a distance, or what you hope to be a distance. You’re hanging on by a thread, but only just. You don’t know how much longer you will last, you just know that you’ve passed the point of no return now. They would have been searching for you since the daylight began to dwindle. They are on their way.

There had been so many instances where you had just stopped, panting, and stared at your own two feet, wondering what the fuck you’re doing. Because where are you running to? Who is going to believe you when you tell them about the fucking vampires looking for you? Who is going to care about some crazy girl?

What is the point in running? Living, even?

But an instinct within you, the one sparked by this revelation, didn’t allow your legs to stop. The whole world is against you. The whole fucking world. Creatures of the Night are hunting you, the angels have abandoned you to a cruel spell, your family is rotting six feet under. No one is going to fight for you, except yourself.

You are a survivor.

Energy waning from the lack of food and the sparing gulps of water you had salvaged from a brooke, the only thing fuelling you is your adrenaline. At this time of night, your vision is no more than dark silhouettes of trees and rocks. Your limbs are numb. The only thing telling you that you haven’t stopped moving is the constant crunch of leaves beneath your feet, crisply ringing. Keep going. Just keep running.

Where are you?

You hear a voice, his voice. No, you don’t hear it, you sense it. You feel his worry, his fear.

Where did you go? Please.

They can’t possibly be near. Even with vampire speed, there’s no way that can catch up with you so quickly when you’ve been gone for hours.

Please.

The pleading makes your heart lurch. You stop, heaving over your knees.

Guilt. It’s the guilt. Why do you feel guilty for leaving? No, you don’t feel guilty, the bond is making you feel it. It’s trying to manipulate you.

I can’t lose you…

But that’s definitely his voice, his inner thoughts. Seokjin is afraid, panicked, in a frenzy to look for you. Genuine concern.

Maybe you should go back. What are you even doing anyway? Where are you going? There’s no purpose.

It also dawns on you that they will pick up on your scent right away. Even if they don’t find you tonight, everywhere you go, they will find you eventually. They had found you even though your aura had been muffled by your uncle’s abuse. They somehow found you. They are always going to find you.

Maybe you should give up. Just submit to them for the rest of your eternity. Either way, you would be suffering, the angels will see to that. Just give up.

Your fists tighten on your knees. It’s freezing cold; your clothes shredded by sharp grappling branches, the midnight breeze percolates pass the futile material and assails your skin. Thoughts racing at an uninterpretable speed, your lost purpose becomes blaringly apparent.

It’s not so bad in there.

Please be okay. Please come back. Don’t go.

They kind of care about you, in their own warped sense of what caring is. Right? They almost love you, some of them. Right? Right? Right? Right? Right?

I miss you. I’m coming for you. I love you.

Right?

Please be okay.

“SHUT UP!” You sob out loud. In the distance, your outburst scare away a flock of sleeping birds, their wings flapping in synchrony to your heartbeat. “Please just shut up.” As tears erupt like a dam, your slam your hands to your ears to shield you from the sound. But of course, it doesn’t stop. It isn’t a sound. It’s a feeling. It’s the sire bond telling your mind his emotions. “Shut up. Stop making this harder for me. Shut up.”

Falling onto your knees, you simply break. Every fibre of your mind is peeling away, your entity flaking into dust. The cold stings your damp cheeks, trickling down to your neck where you remember so vividly the feeling of their fangs.

They almost love you, some of them.

That’s good enough, right?

That’s better than… nothing.

More birds shriek into the silence of the night, so loud that you hear them clearly despite your covered ears.

Are they here? Already?

You keep crying, soil eating your crumpled frame.

And because of your sobs, your firmly shut eyes, your covered ears, you don’t hear the footsteps approach you until you sense a looming presence behind.

Here.

Which one is it?

Slowly, every inch of you trembling, you turn.

A shocked man stares at you in wide eyes. Some sort of camper or hiker judging by his attire.

Not here.

“Oh my god. Please help me. Please help me.” You crawl over to his feet, ignoring the protest of your exhaustion and your pitiful position. “Sir, please help.” Your luck has turned. Finally. You’re going to be okay. Finally. The tears fall harder.

“W-what happened? Are you hurt? Lost?” Gradually processing the dirt covered girl collapsed and crying at his feet, the man bends down and examines you in concern.

“Yes, please, just take me somewhere safe. Please, they’re going to find me.” The wash of relief almost overwhelms you to unconsciousness.

“You need to tell me what happened, little girl. You’re in shock. Who’s going to find you?”

In the dark, you can’t see well, but something in his eyes makes you trusting of him. It’s the genuine worry and care. What a normal man is supposed to look like. You’re saved. You’re finally saved.

“We have no time, just take me… take me to the police.” Your shaking hand grips at his fleece in desperation. You don’t know what you can tell him or the police, you don’t know anything more powerful than vampires than can protect you from them, but you can think about that later. You just need to go now.

“Okay, okay. Let me carry you.”

No. Child, no.

This time, it isn’t Seokjin’s voice. Someone else, like that faint chanting you occasionally hear.

“Thank you.” You shift into a position that better enables the man to reach under your legs. Behind him, you see a pack of black dogs, creeping warily towards you, sniffing. “Are those your dogs?”

“Yes, don’t worry, they are clever boys.”

When his palm touches the underside of your thigh, ice pierces into your skin.

No. Not him. Not safe.

You know that ice. You know that inhuman lack of body heat.

As he hoists you up, you nudge him away and roll back onto the ground. “Wait.” Moonlight illuminating part of his face, you survey his pale skin, his devilishly good looks. His brows pinch in confusion, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Not human.

You glance over at the dogs again. Sleek black coat, long sharp ears, crimson eyes. Where their legs should meet the ground are misty shadows, like ghosts.

Not dogs.

The man’s lips quirk up. His camper’s attire dissipates like dust to reveal a black suit underneath.

You run.

Twigs snap beneath your feet as you sprint as fast as your calves allow, away from whatever they are. Your chest aches from fatigue, ankles screaming for you to stop. As you run, you ignore the branches reaching out to scratch your cheek, your arms. You hardly even feel the cuts against the twisting feeling of dread in your gut.

Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires.

Looking back, you see the man stood rooted where he is. He isn’t coming after you, but the smirk he wears is enough to tell you not to stop. But not long later, you realise why he isn’t chasing.

Growls, howls of excitement, absolute beastly noises erupt from left and right. The hounds are running at an astounding speed beside you, their pelts pitch black despite the moonlight that they should reflect. Jaws open, they pant at you wildly as they hunt you. Zigzagging between the trees to create a misleading path, you try to create as much distance from them as possible. But they’re quick things. Clever boys.

Soon, they are narrowing in on you, until the pack is an arrowhead surrounding you. The closest hound snaps his jaw at your ankle, barely missing you. The loud crunch from the collision of its canines as he shuts his jaw, you know your foot would have been gone if you had been one second slower. You don’t have time to yelp. You focus on running ahead, slipping between boulders and following your instinct for directions.

Where are you? You hear Seokjin once again.

I’m here! You try to scream down the bond. Save me.

You don’t know why. You don’t know why you are asking for help from the very ones you had been running from in the first place. But you just know that, whatever is hunting you, your fate would be much worse with them.

I’m coming. His utter distraught is gone, replaced by a calm composed determination instilled by the awaited reply from you at last. And you know at this moment that it was a mistake to flee. Seokjin at the very least, regardless of everyone else, would never harm you, would always look after you. Why did you leave? Why had you acted upon your deranged irrationality? We’re looking for you. Don’t worry.

Relief. Because that is a promise. And you trust him.

But now the guilt of fleeing from them kicks in. What the bond had made you feel every step you took, that ripping sensation as if you’re tearing apart something substantial, you can imagine being a mammoth’s weight worse for them with their heightened senses.

Something is chasing me. Please help me. I’m sorry.

His fear returns, this time a formidable wave wiping his away short-lived relief. What is chasing you?

Dogs, big black dogs. There was also this man.

Bloody hellhounds and a Drude demon. Shit.

You have no idea what those creatures are but you can tell by the explosion of terror in Seokjin that it’s some of the worse you could encounter.

Distracted by his disclosure, you misplace your foot on an uneven log and topple down, the bark you crash onto scraping fire against your skin. Pain explodes at the back of your skull where it hits something severe. You don’t see beyond a sea of pulsing black.

Then something rips into your leg. You don’t know if you are screaming.

.

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Tiny stars dance around the deep blue sky. They look pretty.

You think you hear something growling, whimpering maybe.

What is that leaking from you so briskly? Blood? Hmm.

Darkness.

.

You hear voices? Yes, voices. Unintelligibly arguing. But if you shut your eyes again and stop shifting on the ground, they could pass off as background music.

Then the volume grows. Fighting. Grunting. More Growling. More whimpering.

But you feel safe. You don’t know why but you feel safe. That’s how you know you’ve lost your mind for good. There are virtual flames burning around you, warmth licking at your broken body. Nothing can get past the flames. Nothing can hurt you. This phantom fire is shielding you.

You heart is burning too, fighting. Someone’s sireship is fuelling you, feeding you, forcing life back into you.

When you open your eyes, when a vaguely familiar face appears, hovering over you, obstructing your view of the towering treetops and wavering constellations. You can’t quite put of your finger on his name, but you know you’re safe.

His eyes are big, full of concern and trouble, his hair long, black, wavy but tucked behind his ears. A black liquid is splattered across him, some on his beautiful face that is taut in vexation.

You don’t protest when he carries you in strong sturdy arms, lifelessly flopping against his chest.

He is warm. Fire. Safe.

And then he is zooming past the trees, so fast the wind tickles at you violently, your limp body jostling. Though half unconscious, your eyes don’t leave him, studying his angular jaw, the round crook of his nose.

J…

A droplet of black liquid rolls off his chin and splats onto your arm. It tingles like weak acid, faintly sour, an unearthly sensation.

Your heavy lids seal you back into the darkness.

.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the softness around and under you. Arms from beneath you draw away, leaving your weight to sink into the bed. Your eyes stay shut.

Warmth is pressed onto your lips, gently, careful as if one hard prod would shatter you. Your throat knows to swallow the stream flowing into your mouth, its taste unfamiliar, but safe.

Warm. And safe.

Almost immediately, you feel its effects catapult into your system. Skin everywhere begins to sew back together, bones like toppled buildings building brick by brick, the chaos in your mind whispered to sleep. That protective fire around you blazing.

Still, you don’t open your eyes. You don’t want to. You can’t face them.

“Troublesome little shit.” He pushes the hair out of your face, touch possessing a surprising delicacy that contradicts his insult and completely entangles your preconceived conception of him. But his voice… So soothing like honey. Not what you expected.

You train your breath to be steadily slow, eyes to be unmoving under your closed lids, hoping to pass off as asleep. The silence creaks, followed by a rustle of bedding. Then you feel the heat of his breath stroke the tiny hairs on your forehead. You suppress a flinch. But he presses his lips onto your skin, so tenderly you almost open your eyes to see if it’s really Jungkook.

“Please don’t leave again.”

And then he’s gone.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh  @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp @brbkpop @jiminisnotavirginrecs @samariakeeper @goodnightbug @dont-touch-me-fwit @tastelessfoolsbts  @queensavage1245 @laced-brds @ultraanonymousey @ashchats @godzillagirl-14 @lustremyg @animeshins @it-is-dana @itsavakent @strawberrym0chii @namchimtae @smoljams@brightenn @btsxdoll @d-noona @show-respect-to-your-queen @fyeebangtan@for-hobi @lx-leeta​ @thesoftuglies

❦

19/01/2020

© Copyright 2020

[chocolate-parfait]

"Paranormal night? I don't think so!" - Ikemen Vampire (Isaac)

TW ; vomit , mature language

@sciamchyafterdusk requested:

I saw your post with the halloween propts also i dont really know if im requesting this right i just got tumblr but Mc and isaac from ikemen vampire for 21 and 26 🥺🍁 I just think it would be really funny because I doubt isaac would believe in ghost probably just a prank from dazzi and arthur but, I think he’d deny it but secretly not so secretly be a scaredy-cat (also male reader but ik most people have female mcs so you dont have to write it if you dont feel comfortable with that!)

Sassy!Male!MC because I'm kinda tired of writing for beautiful perfect ladies that go STOP TEASING ME TEEHEE, blush over nothing and sing like disney princesses. (watch me do exactly that in the next piece I write)

+it's not a negative thing or anything as I'm the first one who likes to write for that type of trope but,, variety is very much needed every once in a while

21. “Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.”

26. “I dare you to go down there.”

Isaac had no idea why he ever thought this could have been a good idea in the first place. Sitting by a candlelit round table, Dazai, Arthur, you and your lover were staring at a crystal ball placed in the middle of the wooden surface, hands ceremoniously joined together to form a circle.

The room was growing colder by the minute, as the local paranormal enthusiast decided that a fire would scare the spirits away. Despite the polar temperatures, you managed to keep your hand warm enough to try and offer some kind of support to your partner, Isaac, whose left hand was as cold as ice and even slightly trembling, though you kept any type of comment to yourself as you knew he wouldn't be pleased to have a third bully team up against him.

Unfortunately for both of you, the two writers' analyzing eyes were vigilant even in the darkness of the room, and they simultaneously decided to poke fun at the scientist as they waited for something to happen.

"Ai-chan, are you scared?" The Japanese teasingly inquired. "C'mon old Newt! Shouldn't you believe in numbers and science a little bit more? I'm sure your gravitational equation will come to save you if a ghost tries strangling you!~" The other man said, obviously aware of the hypocrisy of his statement. "Would you look at that..! You're shaking like a leaf and your expression is quite the amusing one..." Arthur added, slightly leaning forward to get a better look at his face. "C'mon, stop bullying him, you two." You whispered with a scolding tone.

You didn't exactly believe in these things, and yet the slight creepiness of the whole atmosphere couldn't quite let your heart remain completely unmoved. Just as you turned your eyes back on the transparent sphere, Arthur straightened like a board and with utmost earnestness exclaimed:"I can feel a presence... Dear Lord, look behind you Isaac!!"

"W-WHAT IS IT-?!" The fragile man half screamed, throwing himself to your side and squeezing your arm tightly, as if scared a supernatural entity would grab him from behind and drag him to Hell. The moment the exclamation left your lover's lips your eyes flew to the back of the room, noting with your own two pupils that there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary there.

"Haa... you really are an impossible one Arthur." You said with a sigh while pinching the bridge of your nose. "I'm utterly serious when it comes to these things!" Said the English man with a slight pout marking his features. Then, an idea came to your mind.

The blue haired flirt always found an excuse to either tease you or your man, and a payback was the least you could do.

"Wait! Look at the sphere- no way... that's impossible..." You mumbled with an incredulous tone, making the best shocked expression you could manage. Three other pair of eyes moved to the crystal ball, focusing with all their might to try and see what you were talking about. "Do you see something??" Arthur's voice came out in a whisper, hushed and grave.

"Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass!"

"O-of course you didn't see anything- ghosts don't exist anyways..." Isaac whispered to himself, finally letting go of your arm and huffing in relief.

"MC!!! Take this seriously!!" Seeing the playboy so offended pleased you, and you responded with a hearty laugh. "Yeah well, I'm not really the biggest believer of these type of things. I'm still shocked the author of Sherlock Holmes is a fan of the occult, though!"

"Don't you dare mention that piece of trash in front of me!" Ah, there was his weakness. Whenever someone mentioned the detective, he'd lose his temper in the blink of an eye, becoming vulnerable to every type of teasing remark thrown his way. This was a tactic you had started using quite often whenever you wanted to help Isaac with all the mocking gibberish thrown his way.

"Now, now, let us not fight!" Dazai cut off your thoughts with his signature smile. "If we make too much noise, the oni might hear us and come our way"

"A what? ...can't you guys just stop with all the demon talk?" Isaac complained. "They clearly don't exist." He concluded.

"And even if they found us, would they stand a chance against three vampires? You should be scared of yourselves, not some stinky heap of darkness and evil. You can probably snap their necks like a twig with your superhuman strength." You added, looking at the two people sitting in front of you with narrowed eyes.

"Your words bring me an unimaginable amount of disapproval, MC" Did Arthur always need to have the last word on everything? "So do you." You remarked, finally standing up to make your way to the door, clearly done with the conversation.

Barely seconds after you stepped out in the hallway, you heard the sound of a chair sliding against the floor, followed by the familiar sound of shoes you had learnt to recognize anywhere.

"There's no way I'm staying in that room with those two tortures." Isaac scoffed. "I-I'd rather spend my time with you." His tone was shy, but when reaching for your hand, his touch was bold and yet gentle. At this display of cuteness, you couldn't help but softly press a kiss to his cheek before squeezing his hand in yours. "Shall we head back to your room then?" And as your question was answered with a nod, you two started walking down the dark hallway, hand in hand.

Newton's room was quite far from the small lounge you had borrowed for your spooky night, and minutes passed as a comfortable silence hung between the two of you, steps muffled by the red carpet of the hallway filling resonating softly in the empty corridor.

Letting your mind wander freely during the small walk, you went over the events of the day and the evening in particular. The firm words of scepticism you had thrown at Arthur's way suddenly tumbled on you all at once.

What if... what if something were to happen now? Wouldn't it be funny? How ironic would it be! It was a thought that made your heart race; the possibility of witnessing something uncommon, out of this world and probably life-threatening was something that had always attracted the human heart, and you certainly weren't an exception despite your earlier contradicting statement. Sure, you weighed rationalism way more than matters from the supernatural sphere, and yet you had already been proved wrong once when you arrived to the mansion. So maybe nothing was impossible, right..?

You unconsciously slowed your pace, as if wanting to increase the chances of seeing some kind of paranormal activity, and fortunately enough your twisted prayers were met in the strangest of ways.

Passing by the access to the staircase that took downstairs to the cellar, you heard the most curious of sounds. It wasn't perfectly audible from your position, but you could make out incoherent mumbling and sounds that were human but not quite. Seeing how you had stopped walking, Isaac called out to you. "MC..?" After a few seconds of unresponsiveness, you turned to him, curiosity and a hint of mischief in your excited orbs. "Isaac, I dare you to go down there.” His eyes widened in surprise, and before he knew what what happening, you were pushing his back down the steps, adding in a reassuring whisper:"Don't worry. I'm right behind you." But the way you gripped his shoulder didn't go unnoticed, and it reminded him of when he had done the same thing to you minutes prior. Perhaps, those words of encouragement served to placate your quivering spirits, now slaves to your immense curiosity. The scientist certainly couldn't blame you when it came to that, so he gulped down his fear and, in an spur of bold courage, made his way down the dark, old staircase.

What was driving him was possibly either the wish to appear a bit cooler in your eyes or his innate spirit of in inquiry, maybe both. Meanwhile the weird murmurs and rustles got stronger as you approached the end of the stairs, and with a heart thundering wildly in both of your chests, you peeked into the cold basement. What you saw was...

"What in God's name aRE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Theo, slumped against the floor next to Vincent and a pool of...liquids. The angel was whispering words in his brother's ear while drawing soothing circles with his hand on the man's back. Just as you and your lover stepped into the room a pair of blue eyes flew to your figures in a surprised manner, and the blonde's soft voice found its way to your ears.

"Can you guys... help me out?" He said, slipping his arm under Theo's armpit to try and raise him up while offering you an apologetic smile. "We went to the pub to celebrate my newest painting but I'm afraid he exaggerated a bit... He... Theo is so drunk he fell down the stairs"

At this phrase you burst out laughing and Isaac stifled a giggle at the idea of the gruff man tumbling down like a sack of potatoes, then nodded and moved to help the eldest Van Gogh. The moment your lover got next to to the now half standing drunk vampire, Theo emitted a guttural noise and painted his usual grey vest in a terrifying yellow-ish color that would've looked breathtaking on Vincent's canvas. If it hadn't been... vomit, that is.

As you saw the pink haired vampire stiffen up in disgust, you started laughing even harder, calming down ever so slightly once you remembered how horrible your loudness must feel to someone so hungover. After recovering some much needed air, you went to help the two porters who were struggling to open the door as Theo's wobbly legs threatened to make them all fly down the steps, a smile on your face.

The whole situation took a turn you certainly had never expected, but it satisfied you nonetheless. In such a big house, no moment was to be left to boredom, and you had learned to appreciate and love all these grownup babies so it now felt completely natural to spend a night like this. (One of them had captured your whole heart in particular)

...though you figured someone wasn't going to be equally happy with all the cleaning the next day.

[jojo-reader-hell]

hneheheheheh,,, this might be a tough request, but how abt Melone w an asexual s/o? (my asexuality is that I have extremely low libido and hardly feel any pleasure from "sexual" things. I don't require sex and can go without it forever if needed. sorry if that's tmi)

OH BOY WILL I DO THIS YES I WILL HOLY FUCK I LOVE MELONE. Also, I love the idea of someone completely loving who their partner is without question, so this one really made me dig into my “YEAH! LET’S GET EMPOWERED!” love of relationships!

“Hello amo, have you had your water today?”

You can’t face your boyfriend and opt guiltily to look at the full water bottle that’s been sitting on your nightstand for the better part of the day. Lately Melone has been on this kick of trying to get you to drink more water, to take care of yourself, hovering over you when you plop into bed too exhausted to move because he wants you to brush your teeth. As much as you try to please him, you just have a lot of other things on your mind...

It’s like, why take care of yourself if he only thinks it’s going to fix you?

“Wah... you haven’t even touched it!” He sulks, picking it up in all its pink glory as he looks at the lukewarm liquid.

“What have you been drinking today?” He asks softly.

“... espresso.”

“Yeah? Or did you have a latte, did you baby? With blonde ristretto shots? Breve? And...”

He sniffs you, making you grimace and back away from him.

“... SIXTEEN pumps of vanilla?!” He whines.

“N-no I didn’t!” You lie, “I only got five pumps, I swear!”

Melone sounds and looks like a kicked puppy, even dropping to the ground and crawling on his hands and knees toward you like an animal where he proceeds to lay his head in the lap of your oversized pastel purple overalls. He begins to toy with the white buttons, whimpers continuing as his hands ghost over your leg.

“Why do you like to poison yourself with sugar like that baby?” He groans, like he’s in agony. “You’re dehydrated, you don’t sleep, you don’t take care of yourself... not even when I buy you such pretty water bottles with your bunny stickers, or even when I promise you new clothes... I need to know why, why do you enjoy torturing your lover like this?”

The way he looks at you makes your stomach turn, and you wonder if you should say it out loud. You know he won’t stop pestering unless you say it, but the entire future of your relationship depends on this... you already decided: if he can’t accept who you are without trying to change you and disrespecting how you feel, you’re going to leave him. That’s why you had the breve today. You needed some sweet to counteract the potential sour. You’ve been coloring at your desk trying to relieve your tension, but the markers and the colored pencils he bought you kept bleeding into the ink of your pen and nothing helped at all. So you sat there miserable, wondering all these different scenarios and feeling sick to your stomach.

“Melone...”

“Please tell me baby? How can I make it better?”

“Melone... are you trying to change my lifestyle because I won’t have sex with you?”

You’re not sure what to do about the visceral shock that hits him when you ask him point blank about his intentions. He short circuits for a minute, something only you have the ability to accomplish. But then you notice his face contort into sadness. His gloved hands snake up to your chest as he pulls you violently up by the overalls.

“Dio mio!” Melone cries, and it makes you wince to hear anything other than his usual ‘di molto’, “H-how could you say that? Do you really think I’m that much of a monster?! Didn’t I tell you... how many times do I have to tell you that I accept you?! A thousand? A million? Pick one that I might get started!”

“Melone do you blame me?!” You cry back at him, trying to wriggle out of his strong grip, “You start all this shit after I tell you I just don’t feel such things, and all the questions you kept asking me if I was sure... What the fuck?! You keep buying me cute plates and baby silverware to eat my veggies like I’m fucking five years old! You bought me that stupid fucking water bottle and put all those stickers on it like I need something sparkly to distract me! When you’re not seeming like you’re trying to fix me, you’re trying to insult me by making me out to be a baby! Just because I don’t want sex doesn’t mean I’m any less of an adult than you are!”

“Amo... I bought you those things because I just thought you’d like the color, and the size. You like miniatures and bunnies and pastels... you have since you joined!”

Melone’s soft accusatory voice hits you like a freight train, and you’re suddenly up shit creak. You realize that yeah, you did like pastel colors before you told him what you kept secret from everyone else. You kept a lot of things in, things you only mentioned to Melone because you trusted him. You told him you always admired girls who wore pastel colors, because you didn’t think anything pretty or cute looked good on you, and you never had money to invest in an aesthetic. You wore tattered clothes when you first joined Passione, and you confessed to Melone that you had a lot of days where your father would put you down because of the way you looked. Melone responded by spoiling you with your pastel overalls and pretty shirts and frilly socks, even painstakingly making barrettes and hair clips by hand and supergluing the charms on them so you had something cute to pin your clothes and hair up with. He even dyed the laces on your sneakers when you wanted different soft colors. You mentioned one time that you never had a particular doll, a Kewpie, because your mother couldn’t afford to get you one. Next day Melone woke you up and presented you with what he called “your new baby”, and even bought all the accessories for your doll much to your serendipitous delight. Even one time you remembered before telling Melone about your asexuality, you told him that you envied kids and their colorful dinnerware, while adults had to eat off boring breakable plates. You’d asked him how come you couldn’t just eat dinner off of a shark as a joke. You didn’t expect the next day to have all these cute plates and forks and spoons and cups, with Melone holding his arms out wide exclaiming they were just for you.

“I asked you all those prying questions because I wanted to know more about you.” He insisted, cupping your face after he set you down gently, “What kind of a monster do you think I am, that I would force you to do something you don’t want to do? That you think I’m buttering you up and ‘fixing’ you? I just want you to take care of yourself. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted, because no one ever understood how wonderful you were and how much you deserve the world. I want you to be healthy and happy, Amore mio...”

Every little minuscule thing you were angry about suddenly didn’t make you so angry anymore. Melone... God dammit... He LOVED you, and he had done nothing wrong ever in this entire relationship. All he ever did was care... Was that a crime?

“Who hurt you baby?” He whispered, tears flooding his good eye, “Who told you that you were any less and made you question kindness?”

“Oh boy...” you gulp down the tears so you’re not bawling like a baby, “Where do I even begin...”

Too many names to count. Too many lovers that treated you like you were undeserving of love. Too many people who thought of you as incomplete, or less than human, all because you just didn’t feel that way. You tried to please too many people, to the point that you hated yourself for how much you groveled, and now that Melone was in your life, you began to think for yourself. It’s funny how much you realize that he’s not just your boyfriend, he’s your best friend in the entire world. He started off as your friend, encouraging you to think for yourself and spoiling you with gifts and praise when you took those steps towards your independence.

Melone didn’t break you down like everyone else. Rather he helped you to stand strong on your own two feet. Maybe that’s why you’d trusted him enough to come out, and as you spill your guts to him the whole situation feels immensely better. He holds you tightly, cursing those who hurt you, and praising you for being so brave and rising above the negativity.

You’re so thankful, you think, to have someone who finally understands you fully.

[pulpwriterx]

ALWAYS BEN SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY

What if Ben Solo had just escaped the Jedi Temple and Yavin-4 the night that his Uncle tried to kill him? What if nothing had burned, and no one had died that night? What if he had trusted his father enough to help him get away, and his mother enough to tell her about Snoke? What if he could hear Anakin's voice, then? This is that story.

CHAPTER 1: RUN, BEN, RUN!

Ben Solo awoke, and saw his Master, his Uncle, standing over him with a lightsaber.

He summoned his, and defended himself.

Ben knew he couldn’t beat his Uncle Luke with the Force, but he also knew he had greater physical strength.

When they were at crossed sabers, Ben punched Luke Skywalker in the face as hard as he could.

Uncle Luke flew back against the wall and slumped down, unconscious.

“Oh, shit!”

Ben was in a panic.

He felt alone.

His Master, his Uncle wanted him dead.

The Dark Side courted and tortured him in the person of Master Snoke.

His mother, who had left him to either his father’s world or his Uncle’s since he was 13 would never believe him.

Was this it?

Did he have no choice but to go to Master Snoke?

But whereas Ben considered the Jedi to be an ivory tower of unrealistic hypocrites, the Sith were a gang of power hungry killers who had used his beloved Grandfather's weakness to turn him into their pawn.

Ben didn’t want to be a Jedi monk and his mother and Uncle's shining saint, nor did he want to be a pitiless warlord doing the Sith's murderous dirty work.

He realized that what he really wanted was to tear it all down.

The Light, the Dark, the Jedi, the Sith.

But how?

If he was ever to figure that out, if he was ever to be free?

He had to run.

But where?

Dad.

The Old Man wasn’t the Father of the Year, but the times that Ben had fled Uncle Luke and the Jedi Temple over the past ten years, and spent time with the Old Man were his happiest times.

The last time he had escaped, he was gone for almost two years, and the Old Man hadn’t wanted to take Ben to the Jedi Temple any more than Ben had wanted to go.

He would get to the spaceport, and radio to his father for help.

He had to believe his Dad would save him.

Ben checked to see if his Uncle was alive, and finding that he was?

He quickly gathered up everything he could shove into a duffel bag, put his boots on threw it over his shoulder and ran.

Literally.

Ben ran from the Jedi Temple, borrowed a speeder, and ran down the road, and he was still running when he got to the little town around the spaceport that was once the Rebel Base on Yavin 4.

He burst into the cantina, and was immediately surrounded by pilots, scavengers, smugglers and pirates who knew him and his father.

Ben felt immense relief.

He went up to the bar.

“Holy Mother Force, Ben, your face is bleeding! look like someone just walked over your grave! What did those crazy fanatics do to you?”

Ben touched his face.

He was bleeding pretty hard.

“I need a fucking drink. I need to get the fuck out if here. Fast. I need to call my father. I need to use your radio. Please, help me. They want me dead. They tried to kill me. I had to run for my life.” Ben explained.

The bartender drew him a pitcher of Arkanian ale, and poured him a shot of Huttese Whiskey.

“Sure, kid, sure. You can hide in the radio room. Eat something. Trixie? They hurt Ben! Come out here and bring the first aid kit!”

Trixie, the Askajian barmaid, rushed out and bandaged Ben’s head and face up.

As soon as he had drank his drinks and eaten his sandwiches, Ben went into the back and radioed the Falcon, two or three times.

“Ben, do you know what time…”

“DAD! Yeah, you bet I know what fucking time it is! It’s time for you to fucking listen to me! This Jedi shit is murder! Literally! Dad you gotta help me! Uncle Luke tried to murder me he was standing over me while I was asleep with a lightsaber! He grazed my face, and I'm hurt! Just get me out of here and as far away from this Jedi shit that there is oh, Dad, I’m so fuckin’ scared! Please Dad please.”

“Luke did what?"

Ben began to cry.

“You don’t believe me, do you, Dad? Holy Mother Force! For once in your life, don’t be a fuckin’ asshole and let me down! Just get me out of this! I’m hurt, and I’m scared and I need you to be my goddamn father, for kark’s sake!” Ben wailed.

Then he just began sobbing.

Now Han was getting scared, too.

“Alright, Ben. Okay. Calm down. You sound terrified, kid. I believe you. I have to. I’ll come get you. Right now. Stay in the radio room and wait for me. If your Uncle comes back for you, don’t go with him. Tell him I’m coming to take you home.”

“Where’s home, Dad? Where? I don’t have one. I’m not safe! I’m not safe!"

Ben was on the verge of hysteria.

Han was strangely calm.

“You got a home, Ben. The Falcon is your home. I’m flying it, to get you, right now. And you’re safe with me and your Uncle Chewie. I promise.”

***

The two hours Ben waited in the radio room crouched fearfully behind the desk were the longest of his life.

He had never been so happy to see his father since he was a little boy.

Han ran into the room, with Chewbacca right behind him.

“Chewie, look. There’s blood on the floor. Luke must have hurt him! Ben? Where the hell are you?”

“Behind the desk.”

Han couldn’t believe that Ben could have wedged his big body into such a small space.

He moved the desk, and Ben was crouched there, with a bloody makeshift bandage around his head and part of his face, holding the blaster Lando had given him in his trembling hands.

Han's face distorted with anger and disbelief.

“What the fuck? Your head's bleeding! Do you still have an eye under there, Ben?"

Han pulled Ben out of the hole and Ben clung to his father like he was five, again.

He was trembling all over, in terror.

“I’m so scared, Dad. You gotta help me. Don’t make me go back! Don’t let them have me!”

“I won’t, Ben. I promise.”

Ben took a few steps and reeled.

“My head feels funny. I only drank one pitcher of beer. And I had two shots.”

“Not good when you got a head wound, kid. Chewie, get Ben. I’ll get his bag. We'll go out the back.”

They got Ben to the Falcon in a hurry and Han jumped blindly to hyperspace, not even caring where he ended up, as long as it was far away from Yavin 4.

***

In his hysteria, Ben told his father everything.

Chewie flew the Falcon while Han tried to do something about the bleeding slash from Ben’s scalp, past his eye, to the bridge of his nose.

He was putting clips on it.

“Don’t worry, Ben. It’ll be an interesting scar, not a disfiguring one. So, this Snoke guy is invading your mind, and torturing you. Have you ever seen him in person?”

“Not since I was a kid. I didn’t know he was a Sith, then.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“They wouldn’t believe me, Dad! In their happy fuckin’ world, everything is perfect, the good guys won and the Sith are gone. You see what happens when that’s not true?”

Ben was completely hysterical, hovering between fear and rage.

“Yeah. Instead of helping you, Luke goes crazy and tries to kill you, not this Snoke guy. Well, where is this Sith bastard?”

“Why, Dad?”

“Because we have to kill him.”

“It’s not that easy. He’d sense you coming a mile away. He wants me. If I was strong enough, and I could convince him I was interested in joining the Sith? I could kill him. But I’m not strong enough. And I’m not interested.”

“Then you can get strong in the Force, on your own, and you can go kill him. I mean, who says you need a teacher? How hard can it be for a Skywalker? You could do Force shit when you were five. Do it your way, Ben. Is that guy in your head, now?”

“Not really. When I’m not in the midst of all that Jedi stuff, I can block him out of my mind.”

“Then block him out of your mind. Because you’re not going to be around that shit, anymore. You feel better, kid?”

“Some.”

“Ben, you got me. You got Chewie. You got Lando. And you got your brains, your Force ability, your lightsaber, and your blaster. It’s like you told me, once. Dark Side? Light Side? Fuck it. My side. You stick with that, and forget this Jedi versus Sith shit? You'll be OK. Now go to your cabin, and clean up, and lie down. Get some sleep. We’ll take you to Bespin, to see one of Lando’s doctors. Get your wound taken care of.”

“You sure, Dad? You won’t make me go back?”

“With a Sith Lord trying to mind fuck you into being Vader Jr. and Luke trying to murder you? Fuck no. If anybody wants you, even if it’s your mother or your Uncle? They'll have to go through me to get you. I might not have been the Father of the Year, but this is Dad 101. Don’t let anybody hurt your kid. Go to bed. It’s OK, Ben.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Ben shuffled off to his cabin.

“What the fuck is going on, Chewie? Has everyone lost their minds? I told Leia, you are putting way too much shit on that kid's shoulders. Let him do what he wants. He’s a man, now. He’s seen my world, and yours. Let him find his own way. But she never wanted to hear that. Well, Leia’s going to have to listen. Meanwhile? I can’t even tell her or Luke where Ben is. Not till we figure out what to do.”

Chewie shook his head, sadly, and set a course for Bespin.

***

Luke Skywalker came to in his nephew's disarrayed room.

Outside, everything was normal.

But Ben was gone.

Luke gave his students a day off, saying he had urgent Republic business, and he took a speeder and went to find Ben.

He had left a trail of blood to the speeders.

Luke realized he must have clipped Ben with the lightsaber.

Luke went to the spaceport cantina, but they stonewalled him.

Ben had probably radioed Han, and was off-world by now.

Luke returned, and got Han on the Falcon’s radio.

“Kid, you got a lot of balls calling me! You disfigured my son's face while you were trying to cut his head off!”

“By the Force, did I? Did Ben lose an eye?”

“He could have. It’ll be an interesting scar, not a disfiguring one.”

“Just tell me if he’s safe, Han. I don’t know what I was thinking. I sensed a threat, a dark presence, and now I see that it wasn’t coming from Ben; it was around him. Tempting him. But he didn’t do anything but run.”

Han let out a long sigh.

“Yeah. Ben is safe. And he’s going to stay safe, because he’s done with all that Jedi shit. He doesn’t want to come back to you, and I won’t make him. Hell, I won’t let him!”

“His blood was all over the road. I’m worried about him. Did you get him to a doctor?”

There was anguish in Luke's voice.

“Yeah. I did. The doctor says it’s not bad. And he can make the scar minimal. Luke, why? Don’t give me this Force shit, either? Why?”

“I got scared. I lost my temper. Who did this to us, Han? Me and Ben? Did he tell you?”

“A Sith Lord. Snoke. He haunts Ben’s mind. He wants him to become another Vader.”

“That’s why Ben doesn’t want to finish his Jedi training? Because he doesn’t want to be used as a pawn by the Sith! By the Force! The fiend must have been tormenting Ben for years!”

“Yeah. And playing nice with him when he was a kid. Visiting with Ben righr under your nose! You missed that. Here’s the deal, Luke. Ben thinks the Jedi and the Sith are trying to use him as a pawn. He wants nothing to do with any of it. And I agree with him. Ben’s a tough kid, Luke. And he’s terrified. He was crouched in a three foot space with a blaster in his hand, half-drunk. Whatever this Snoke guy is selling? Ben doesn’t want any of it. And after what you did? I figure he'll be finding his own way with the Force, like his mother has.”

“This is too much. This is terrible. What will we tell Leia? Let me talk to her. I failed Ben. It’s my fault. At least I know he’s fighting it. Just…keep him safe, Han. Please. And…tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I know I’ve done the wrong thing. A terrible thing. But I only because I’m almost as scared as he is.”

***

Ben felt safer on Bespin, but despite the doctor giving him a sedative, he couldn't sleep.

He was still terrified.

But his mind was free of Snoke.

Somehow, in the simple act of fighting his Uncle off and immediately fleeing into the night he had undone the Sith Lord's plans, or showed him he wanted none of them, or maybe Snoke was just regrouping.

But Ben was free of the presence that had dogged him relentlessly through all of his most recent year at the Jedi Temple.

Then?

Ben heard another voice.

Not Vader’s.

Like it, but not Vader’s.

“Ben? You can hear me? Finally?”

The room glowed softly blue.

The hulking man in Jedi robes sitting on the end of his bed was about the same size as he was, and he had the same prominent features; his hair was reddish brown, though, instead of black.

“Grandfather?” Ben asked.

He could feel fear leaving him.

“Yes, Ben! Finally! I can feel your fear leaving you. That is good. But you can’t relax your vigilance. Listen to me. Now that you know my presence? Don’t be fooled by anyone imitating me. Your instincts are sound. It’s time for there to be no Dark and no Light. No Jedi and no Sith. Time for a new path. A path of balance, where the Force is United. But you do need a guide. I know now is not the time. What you need now is to feel safe. Protected. You will have me to protect you, too. I am more powerful than Master Snoke. I will keep him away from you, until you have recovered from this terrible attack.”

“Why did Uncle Luke attack me?”

“He was afraid. And when Skywalkers get scared, rage comes. You know that, Ben.”

Ben nodded.

“I know. I was angry, too. But I was more frightened than angry. So I ran.”

“Sometimes retreat is your only option for victory. Had you given in to your rage and struck my son down? You would be a pawn in Snoke’s hands, now. Luke is as frightened as you are. Leia will be furious. It will be her instinct to immediately focus her considerable powers to destroy the threat. It falls to me to lead you all. I have been waiting. I am ready.”

“What should I do, now? Find my own way in the Force?”

“You must reach your own balance between the Dark and the Light, Ben. Then I can guide you. But first? You must admit that both live in your soul, and only then can you find your equilibrium. While you undertake this task? I will protect you from Snoke. But, after I become your guide? You will have to learn to deal with him.”

At least it was a plan that made sense to Ben.

“What about right now?”

“After you have slept? Talk to your mother. And I will speak with my son. Eventually, you must speak to him, too. But not yet. As for Snoke? My daughter and I will deal with him, for now. But in the future? When you are strong enough? You will destroy him, and his evil.”

“You will be my Master, grandfather?”

“No. You will be your own Master, Ben. I will be your teacher. And your guide. But now you must rest, so that your mind and spirit can heal. You’re in your rogue father’s rogue crony’s stronghold. The two of them, and the Wookiee, won’t let so much as droid past them. You are safe. I hate to say it, but your instinct was correct. When you are with Captain Solo? You are safe. Lie down, now. I will stay with you, while you sleep. You will not dream of the Dark Side.”

“Will I see more of you now, Grandfather?”

“Yes. Almost as much as if I were alive. All the love and attention that you have not had from your mother, your father and your Uncle? You will have from me. I have no other distractions. No other purpose, Ben, than to love and teach and support you. My love for you gives me form, and purpose, and the ability to come to this world. Sleep well, my boy. Sleep well every night, knowing that Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, is watching over you. I am your sword and your shield, until you learn to defend and protect yourself. Sleep. And know how well you are loved.” Anakin promised.

Ben allowed the sedative to take effect, and he drifted off to sleep.

***

Han did not wait for Luke to talk to Leia.

He checked on Ben, and found him asleep, at last.

Then he immediately got Leia on the radio.

“I’ve been calling you and calling you! Something happened to Ben! I can feel that something is wrong. Is he sick? Hurt?” she insisted.

“Ben’s OK, now. He’s with me and Chewie. Hidden in a safe place. But something is sure as shit wrong! Luke tried to cut his head off with a lightsaber, while he slept. Ben’s going to have a little scar, but he'll be fine.”

“WHAT? Luke did what? A little scar! Where?”

“On his face.”

“My brother disfigured our son's face while trying to murder him?”

“It’s going to be a little scar. Once it heals. The kind women find interesting. I’ve talked to Luke about what he did. He admitted it. Ben’s not a little kid, anymore. He’s got to be a really big man. And he was cowering behind a desk. In a three foot spot. After I pulled him out, Ben was clinging to me, screaming and weeping. He hid all night, crying and drinking beer. I never saw him so terrified. I thought he was going to die of sheer fright. But I got him to a doctor and a safe place, and he’s OK, now. I just checked on the kid. He’s finally asleep.”

“Holy Mother Force, Han!”

“It gets worse. So Ben tells me some Sith guy named Snoke is in his head. That this Sith Master showed up to talk to him, in person. Ben’s afraid of him, too. I guess he did something to make Luke think Ben joined the circus. But he hasn’t. I told you this Jedi shit wasn’t good for him.”

“Well, I need to talk to him. Why would he tell you these things and not me? Why didn’t he tell us years ago?”

“When, Leia? When we weren’t busy? Ben’s afraid of you, too. He thinks you’ll send him right back to Crazy Uncle Luke and shove him into the arms of the guy who wants to make him Vader Jr. Ben wants nothing to do with any of it. Sith. Jedi. None of it. He’s a man, now, he’s old enough to decide what he wants, and he wants to stick with me. And I am not sending him back there. Never. No matter what you say. That’s it. No more Jedi shit for Ben.”

“He didn’t tell Luke about this Sith Lord?”

“He’s terrified of both of you. Me, he just thinks I’m a fuckin’ asshole. He told me so, and he’s probably right. But this time I’m gonna do the right thing. Because, right now Ben thinks Anakin Skywalker is great. Right now he still understands he was not so great when he was Vader. Right now. I think we need to keep it that way.”

Leia sighed.

“I couldn’t follow the Jedi path. Neither could my father. Ben can’t, either. We’ll have to help him find his own path.”

“Who? What? What the fuck does any of that shit matter?” Han insisted.

“You know what, Han? It doesn’t. When Ben wakes up, tell him I am not going to make him go back to Luke. Tell him I said I respect his choice. And ask him if he’ll talk to me. As his mother. He doesn’t even have to tell me where he is. I just want to talk to him. OK?”

“OK. I wish you were here, Leia.”

“I do, too.”

***

Ben agreed to talk to his mother, on the radio.

“Is it bad, Ben? Your face. I’ve been talking to reconstructive surgeons all day. I know how sensitive you are about your face.”

“Its OK, Mom. It’s not going to be a big deal.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I have a doctor lined up. Oh, Ben, I…I went wrong, somewhere. But I love you, and I want to make things right. I’m going to start talking to my father, as much as I don’t want to. I won’t let the Sith take you away from me. I won’t.”

Ben didn’t know what to say.

Leia sighed.

“I see that half of the money you got from your trust when you turned 21 is gone. Where did it go?”

“I’m having a YT-2400 custom built for me. Using some of my own designs. I’m going to call her the Hellfire.” Ben answered.

Enthusiastically.

“That’s a fairly practical use for money for a young man. I thought you were spending it on girls.”

“What girls, Mom?”

“You might have been a late bloomer, Ben, but I know you know about lot of girls.”

“You mean like Trixie at the Yavin-4 Spaceport Cantina?”

“Please tell me you didn’t. Even if you did.”

“I thought about it. Yeah I know a lot of girls. I know just about every girl at the Jedi Temple who’s over the Galactic Age of Consent. Not that I’m complaining. But they only like me for a little while, or they only like me at night, without my pants on. Like at the Temple. They all act like they didn’t even know me. Until they do. I’d spend money on a girl, if I could keep one.”

Leia wanted to laugh.

“Ben, your female classmates took a vow of chastity. They can’t act like they're crazy about you in public.”

“I never thought of that. Maybe they miss me.”

“They?”

“Yeah. I had the girls spaced out to different days of the week. Every day, I miss that day's girlfriend.”

Leia was at a loss for what to tell him.

And she was still trying not to laugh.

“You’re still too young to worry about getting serious about a girl. Or a series of them. Tell me about your ship.”

“Its gonna be great! All black, black as a raven’s wing. With red piping and Beskar steel chrome. And I’m having moulded retractable housings put over all the guns. To make the ship more aerodynamic. She’ll have the latest model hyperdrive, and I specifically designed the, uh, secret compartments to fit their different cargoes. Two layers. Where each false bottom has a false bottom. And in the cargo bay, a station for my TIE Fighter. I’m having the whole interior done in Beskar chrome, black leather and red Endor mahogany. I made the Captain’s cabin a little bigger than usual, so it’s big enough for me. Wait till you her, Mom.”

“Space really is your home, isn’t it, Ben?”

“I am a Skywalker. King of the Sky. The stars belong to me.” He replied.

“Well, since you’ve got your own ship, you should finish your last year at the Republic Academy.”

“I don’t need a commission to be a pilot, Mom.”

“But you liked the Republic Academy. You want to be a pilot, not a Jedi? I accept that. But you have to finish your education. Even your father finished school at the Imperial Academy. I want you to finish school.”

“On Coruscant?”

“Yes. Maybe you and your old man can come home for the Fall semester. I haven’t sold the penthouse, yet. And we can do family shit, until you graduate. Yell. Throw things at each other. Just like old times."

Ben laughed.

“I could do that.”

“I want you to. I want you to concentrate on what you want to do. Who you want to be. I admit it. I was wrong. I pushed you too hard to do what I wanted. So, can we compromise on this? You can go play pirates with your Dad, as long as you finish school. In case you ever want to do anything else with your life.”

“I’ll give it a shot, Mom. The Hellfire will be finished, by the Fall semester. You’re…you’re not mad at me? Really?”

“No, Ben. I’m not. Can I come and see you? I won’t nag you, or your father about where you’re going or what you’re doing all spring and summer. I just want to see you, and make sure you’re alright.”

Leia felt the conflict in Ben.

He wanted to trust her.

But he was afraid.

“I had a long talk with my Dear Old Dad. I’m not opposed to him guiding you. As long as he lets me in on what he’s doing. And I think I'll take over your non-metaphysical training. You know. The fun stuff. Lighsaber fights. Obstacle courses. Beating the drone with the blast shield down. Except I’m not going to coddle you, like Luke coddles you kids. It’s going to be hard. The way reality is.”

That swept the last of Ben’s conflict away.

He knew she was with him.

“We’re on Bespin. Don’t let anyone follow you.”

“I know that, Ben. I’ll see you, soon.”

[loveylangdon]

What’s Clickbait again?

Shawn Mendes x Reader 

Word count: 2459

fluff and angst overload

I honestly don’t even know what I'm doing, this idea has been floating around in my head for the past couple of months, this is also my first time writing so if you have any feedback it is greatly appreciated. unedited bc idek.

Summary: You’re dating Shawn Mendes but was in a long term relationship with David Dobrik and met Shawn through a collab David was supposed to have with him. David is now collabing with Shawn finally and finds out you’re dating the pop sensation.

Masterlist in my bio pt. 2 & 3 out now

_ _ _ _ _

Today was the day Shawn was collaborating with a mysterious youtuber, whether he knew who he was working with or he just forgot to mention who it was to you was nerveracking. Shawn asked you to come along to this video shoot when he heard it was specifically for YouTube. Dating David Dobrik for 3 years had its perks, you knew your way around bits and how to shoot scenes, how to get things done quickly and efficiently.  Met numerous people in the industry and those working for youtube itself thanks to David. You worked great under pressure and Shawn loved that about you. He wanted you with him to calm his nerves, he didn’t know what he would be doing or with who, he just knew they had a huge following. Shawn didn’t particularly like that youtuber’s went around torturing people for views, or making fun of their lives for amusement so having you there knowing the ropes in its entirety would calm his nerves immensely.

You were currently finishing getting ready wondering how on earth Andrew would lead Shawn blind.

“Babe we need to leave in 15 minutes or we're going to be late” Shawn called from down the hall.

“Are you sure you want me to go with prince, what YouTubers are you even working with today, maybe I won’t even be of any help” I pouted as I walked out of the room and towards Shawn. Hoping that he would tell me even though he hasn’t for the past 3 weeks.

Making my way into the hallway with a pout on my face he looked up at me “Stop pouting it’s too cute, you calm my nerves princess, this youtuber world is odd, you seem to know most of them so you can talk for me. Stop trying to get out of it you promised” he pouted. Silently cursing yourself for promising him if he took this brand deal with YouTube, you would be right by his side with whichever youtuber they threw at him was now coming back to bite you in the ass.

Remembering how Shawn got offered a brand deal with YouTube for a bit more exposure before tour didn’t seem like a bad idea considering he started on YouTube they figured he’d blend right back in with Youtube’s number one stars. PR agreed that they wanted to throw his face in with a bit of a newer crowd of vloggers, and Youtuber’s hoping to get ticket sales to go up and expand his audience since Shawn got along with everyone and its how he rose to fame.

Taking two long steps towards me Shawn placed a kiss on my forehead, calming my nerves I snuggled into his chest more. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face into his chest “bub I haven’t seen these people in ages I don’t even know If they know were dating” I mumbled into his t-shirt hoping he didn’t hear me

My brain was going a mile a minute after me and David broke up I stopped hanging around the vlog squad I kept in contact with some of them Zane, and Alex mostly when Ilya and Dima come into town I would have dinner with them and catch up.  Natalie never contacted me after even if I reached out, she didn’t want to betray him. I never put myself in a situation to make David uncomfortable, after seeing him go through his break up with Liza and constantly having her around broke him. I wanted him to heal and be happy.

Grabbing my chin and giving me the biggest puppy dog eyes, he could muster, “bub I love you and we might not be public yet but who cares? you and David broke up months ago, I don’t think anyone would even bring it up if they see you with me and if so, so what they’re going to find out eventually. I love you and you love me.” He pecked my lips as I closed my eyes and continued to pout our foreheads pressed together as he mumbled something.

“what was that,” I ask

Shawn moves a step back sighing “is that why you don’t want to go public” he’s looking at the ground and playing with his rings stealing a glance at me “you still love him and want to get back together with him?” he looks defeated and my heart sinks.

“Shawn Peter” I close the space in between us, threading my fingers through the curls on the nape of his neck so he can lean down and I can rest my forehead on his. playing with the curls there while my other hand is softly holding his cheek. I feel his arms wrap around my waist but he’s still looking at the ground, my heart sinks how could he ask such a question.

“Shawn Peter Raul look at me please” he glances up at me through his long lashes and I gaze into his eyes, I could get lost in there for ages honestly, all I see is love and nerves he looks at the ground again. I play with the curls on the nape of his neck and make him look at me again

“Shawn Peter, I love you with every single ounce of my being, you are not a second choice or a rebound in any way shape or form, do you hear me. i love you, for you and I have never EVER felt this type of love in my life from anyone and it honestly scares me that I love you so much, I will do everything in my power to make you happy, feel safe and loved sooo much love, inspire you because you make me want to be a better person, you Shawn Peter Raul Mendes are my person and the universe has a funny way of making things happen for the best possible ways. I love you rockstar and you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, I just want to stay in our love bubble a little longer, I just don't want to be clickbait for these people but if you want to go public and you think we’re ready we can, I don’t ever want to hold you back”

Shawn’s grip on my hips tighten as he crashes his lips into mine but as soon as I melt into the kiss he’s pulling away and putting his face in the crook of my neck “I’m sorry” he mumbles into my neck and I feel his breath on my pulse

“prince you’re gonna have to speak up what’s wro-“

he steps back in front of me disconnecting our bodies entirely he’s wiping his eyes and quickly grabs my hands looking at me intently

“I’m sorry I’m jealous, I’m jealous because he’s everything I can't be, he has some level of normalcy and I love you so much it scares me to even think that you might leave me when you get tired of me not being home every night like he was, I don’t care if we go public honestly it’s not even about that, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for me because I was the first person you saw after your guys break up. I love you with everything in me and I know you love me but I knew from the first time I saw you I was in deep but you were with him and it’s just hard to think you gave up a little bit of normalcy to follow me around and I just want to make you happy” he intertwined our hands and starts playing with my fingers

“prince please believe me when I tell you I have never felt this much love and adoration for anyone, and please believe me when I tell you I’m not settling I love you and will follow you to hell and back no matter what it takes because there is no place I would rather be.   here with you through thick and thin, rumors, tours, album releases, award shows, Calvin Klein campaigns-“I trail off in hopes to lighten the mood and he snorts and pulls me into a quick kiss “I love you so much”

our little bubble is broken when his phone rings as he lets go of my hand to answer his phone in his back pocket. he looks at me and raises his eyebrow as he puts the phone to his ear by the look on his face I know it’s Andrew and we’re late to the shoot.

Holding onto his elbow I grab him and pull him out the door “let's go rockstar, we can’t be late”

Shawn hangs up the phone and puts it back in his front pocket. His eyes crinkle up a bit as he shakes his head whispering as he suddenly got serious “Remind me what clickbait is again honey”

—

walking through a Warner brother sound stage is surreal and weird, what kind of youtube production is associated with warner brothers. Shawn left to go find snacks at production and I’m left wandering when I hear her laugh. This literally can’t be happening. I’m about to turn the corner when I hear Natalie call out to me

“y/n is that you!?” I turn around and smile

“omg y/n I haven’t seen you in so long how have you been, are you working for the studio? or youtube? that makes sense if you were to work with youtube, who knows the ins and outs better than-“ she’s cut off by Shawn voice coming from down the hall.

the 6’2 Canadian comes in smiling from ear to ear at whatever he’s holding in his hands “princess look what I found at the snack table you’re not going to believe it-“ he looks up at you but he’s cut off by Natalie clearing her throat and he looks across from you shocked at first but he quickly composes himself and quickly glances from you to Natalie

“Oh hi I didn’t see you there, Natalie right?” as he extends his hand out for her to shake. she glances at you and quickly shakes Shawn’s hand.

“yah it’s Natalie nice to see you again.” Shawn gives her a genuine smile and looks back at me.

“princess look” he opens his palm and I see my favorite chocolate candy form the UK “they have SMARTIES!” he looks up at me and hands me the weirdly shaped box “they only had two so I grabbed them both I thought it was weird that they had them they’re so hard to find so I knew I had to grab them for you” he moves to put the second box inside your jacket pocket “okay princess I love you but I have to go brian will have my head,  Andrew’s in a mood” he turned to Natalie “it was nice seeing you again Natalie” smiling at her he turns to me, quickly pecks my lips and walks backward smiling “I love you save some candy for me” while making dead eye contact and a hand motion signaling we’re going to be sharing these between us.

I laugh and yell “turn around rockstar I don’t want you to fall” he looks and laughs blows a kiss and turns around and walks down the hall to what I’m assuming is a dressing room.

I blush lightly looking at Natalie, whose eyes are wide “y/n how long have you been with him” she’s looking at me dead in the eyes now and the mood has shifted. I look down and start biting the inside of my cheek.

“8 months...but we were talking before that” I look at her and her demeanor changes slightly, she physically softens. I can't do this. just as quick as she softens she stiffens again

“y/n 8 months...so while David was heartbroken and blaming himself you were out gallivanting with the last person he was supposed to film with before you guys broke up are you serious.” her eyes widen “is that why you broke up because you met Shawn and you wanted to be with him?!”

“Natalie stop! it’s not like that and you know it! you know better than anyone why me and David broke up” my throat tightens and I feel like I’m about to cry. I feel her arms around me.

“I’m sorry ok don’t cry, I know I just-“ she pulls away with her hands on my shoulders looking at me sympathetically. “you’re his best friend I know” I move to take her hands off of my shoulders. suddenly not wanting anything to do with her. after the break up she refused to talk me, I didn’t only lose 3 years of my life with David I lost 5 years of friendship with Natalie too.

Having to go through a breakup with not only my best friends of 3 years, but I also ended up losing two of the people closest to me.

I take a breathe “I should really go find Shawn” I wipe my eyes and start looking around and rub my hands on my jeans “if they’re doing his hair over again he’ll want me to do it and-“

“does he make you happy,” she asks

I feel my chest tighten and butterflies erupt in my stomach at her question I smile “he really does” I go to wipe my cheeks again with my dry hand but can’t because of the smarties Shawn put in my hand and I’m smiling like an idiot all over again.

Natalie speaks up “you know David keeps those in the house now, they’re permanently on his rider for whenever we work with bigger companies or go anywhere he doesn’t eat them often but he likes to have them because they remind him of simpler times” she softly smiles at me, insinuating that the real reason Shawn found them was because David requested them.

I give her a tight lipped smile, she didn’t know anything, “it was nice running into you Nat I really need to go find Shawn” before she can say anything I turn around and as I turn the corner I hear an infamous vlog laugh come from the opposite side of the sound stage. I feel like my heart is going to burst.

- - - - 

I Hope you enjoyed it and if you made it this far thank you, This is my first time writing so if you have any feedback it is greatly appreciated. I'm thinking of making a second part so if I should let me know. Thank you 

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Xx

[donnnoir]

Unremembered Memories...

Memory is a funny thing.  We are all well acquainted with the concept and its meaning.  Yet, what do we Truly know of it as fact, function, mechanics or purpose.  We know there are numerous types of memory. Some forms have a different locus of repository other than the mind or brain.  One such is our independent somatic memory, somato (greek based) meaning body.  Our bodies as a whole or localized may store various memories and or responses.  Athletes and bodybuilders often refer to muscle memory during training.  The Martial Arts are an extension of muscle memory.  Some of the most extreme and mind bending examples of somatic memory come to us from the battle fields throughout history.  Stories of dead pilots landing their aircraft 15 minutes or more after their deaths.  Airfield personnel would enter bombers that had just landed, only to find everyone dead. The corpse of the pilot still gripping the controls.  A pilot's desire and fixation being so strong in bring plane and crew home to a safe landing that somehow their bodies completed the often repeated task even after death.  Samurais and similar warrior classes knowing this, trained in the knowledge that even after death if their will was strong enough they could finish the task immediately begun just prior to death.

There are other mundane examples of somatic memory.  Regrettably the effect has been exploited and folded into nefarious conditioning, training and protocols by various groups.  In my life I have had occasions to have experienced different expressions of somatic memory.  Long ago I was caught in a furnace explosion in which molten melt gave me severe third degree burns over parts of my body.  When next I attempted to operate the furnace, the intense heat caused my whole body to immediately convulse with extreme pain.  Apparently my body had more sense than me and was wanting me to avoid and get away from the source it associated with my being severely burnt and almost killed. Realizing what my body was doing I used my mind and will to master my body's memory and fear.

Recently while enduring FOXing operations against my person (the location or theatre of which was in the City of Long Beach, CA) on three distinct consecutive evenings I suffered severe abdominal pain for over six hours on the first two nights.  Despite everyone's admonitions to go to the Hospital, I refused.  For I was certain the pain and the symptoms were the induced product of emissions technology, sonic, microwave or similar.  It had also been the topic of conversation a couple of weeks earlier.  When Barbre, my brother's girlfriend said I was going to be stabbed again in my abdomen (years before I was stabbed in my back during a bar fight, resulting in over six inches of the blade plunged into my abdominal cavity that night).  I simply answered her that I would survive it, as always.  Well on the third evening as the pain pierced my abdomen doubling me over.  I went straight to the bathroom and began vomiting blood and chunks of me.   It was sufficient to cause me to relent on the matter of going to the Hospital.  An ambulance transported me to a local hospital.  Its appearance was the first clue that things were not kosher.  Next was that the staff gave me a diagnosis in fifteen to twenty minutes after my arrival. Pancreatitis!  They said it was because I drank on a regular basis. Where was the blood work, urine analysis, MRI, hell I had NOT even been seen by a physician.  I was given something for the pain, signed some paperwork then given something else, and it was Good Night.  I was in and out of sedation from that point.  I remember being moved and family and friends visiting.  Next thing I clearly remember is a male nurse informing me that I would be leaving the Hospital and that I had been there for just over a week.  My mind screamed, WTF!!! What has been done to me.  Over the following weeks and months I and certain “friends” deduced some of the operations done to me, and even appliances put in me.  Additionally other more traumatic and torturous happenings, events and things were done to me/my body.  My brain and mind have no memory of what I was subjected to during my stay.  However, apparently my body does.  My somatic memory kicks in intensely at the thought of having to go to a Hospital for any reason.  I cry, and all my mind can think is that I would rather die than visit another Hospital.  Since that time, I have had to go to a Hospital or two on more than one occasion, for COVID-19 and other minor emergencies.  Each and every time the anxiety and dread is immense, at times I even shake uncontrollably.  Writing about my experience and the associated events at this moment cause headaches, nausea, anxiety and other bodily issues (I am certain those that tortured me, will derive perverse pleasure at my admitting that their endeavors still cause me distress.  Yet in an effort to educate and make others aware, I am glad to openly admit my suffering including my continuing distress.  Even if it goes against my John Wayne sensibilities.).  This from what amounts to my being kidnapped, tortured, operated upon and experimented on like a lab rat without my knowledge, consent, agreement, any acknowledgment or even any discussion prior to or subsequent the occasion and happenings.  I have had round about discussions with agents associated with and even in charge of the FOXing operations targeting me on this matter, to NO satisfaction other than an acknowledgment that “shit happens”. This and the totality of my experiences being FOXed have contributed to my PTSD.  Somatic memory is very real, trust it, do NOT dismiss it!

[glass-crayon]

Finally, a sequel: Me, an Orthodox Jew with 12+ years of Day School Education and a healthy sense of humor, explains the Haggadah

Kadesh: depending on whether it’s the first night or the second night, you’re either super hyped or thinking “Please god let this one not last till 1 am”. You drink your first cup of wine (or grape juice if you’re a lil wimp- actually who am I to talk I get drunk on Bartenurah) and get a healthy level of tipsy. 

Urchatz: The first sign that tonight is not, indeed, like all other nights. You feel like a king/queen when you get your mom to wash your hands for you, because yasss, peasants. Clean my hands. I should not have to pick up this shmucky cup by myself, that is below me.

Karpas: Now, at this time of night I am, let me tell you, STARVING. I think this step was invented sorely to torment us, because I can survive without eating anything for hours with no problem, but as soon as you open those floodgates by letting in a tiny piece of slightly salty potato, lemme tell you, it is torture. But it is a mitzvah I guess so whatever. ooh also the background behind this one is fun- why do we do it? So the children will ask! What a Jewish answer. I love it.

Maggid: This step’s length solely depends on whether you live alone and can speed read Hebrew on your own, or you live in a house with lots of children who all a) have a dvar torah on every phrase and b) need to be constantly entertained. If you’re lucky like me, you get both!!! This step features-

extremely loud, hyper children who suddenly get stage fright and hold up the seder for 10 minutes while you try to coerce them into mumbling the mah nishtana

One of my favorite passages, about Rabbi Eliezer ben azaryah from the talmud who woke up one morning to find out that BAM he looked like a 70 year old man (with beard to match!) because he was extremely well educated. There is something utterly hilarous about a Rabbi going ful Fred and George in the goblet of fire with no warning whatsoever.

The whole sons thing, which is where I personally think JK Rowling got the Harry Potter houses. Don’t believe me? Watch: 

Chacham: Ravenclaw

Rasha: Slytherin

Tam: Has to be Gryffindor. Theyre so goddarn stupid

SheEino Yodea Lishol: Hufflepuff- i have an immense hatred for Hufflepuff so here it is. You’re all babies who don’t even merit to understand why you went out of Egypt. bam roasted.

Vayehi SheAmda: I cannot get through this without invariably thinking of that one Mark Twain passage. GO JEWS!!

Then, we enter a section of maggid I like to call: We just said this passuk but now let’s be rashi and go into detail on every word. Need I say more?

Now, let’s talk about how funny the concept of spilling out a little bit of wine is for every plague. First of all, where the heck does it come from. Why? It makes no sense. Who looked around the table and thought the way to pay tribute to the miraculous plagues was to dip your grimy finger that’s been flipping through pages of a 20 year old hagaddah and drop it onto a plate? I just wanna talk.

And what about that whole section afterwards that’s basically just RABBI SHOWDOWN. Oh you think you know how many plagues there were? did you count the ones at the sea? What about accounting for the finger instead of the hand? Idiots.

K now onto Dayenu. This whole thing is also ridiculous because some of the stanzas don’t even make sense. It would have been enough to leave you by the sea but not split it? Um no then you would be attacked by the Egyptians. And splitting it but not leading you through it on dry land? helloooooo this is ancient times in the desert. They don’t know how to swim. Extra props to Nachshon now that I’m thinking about it because as far as he knew, he just drowned himself.

andddd finally maggid concludes with the second cup! Just so you can get a lil bit full before giving yourself major matzah constipation.

Rachtzah: Normal hand washing with a bracha but with that nice princely element of not having to pick up the cup yourself again.

Motzi/Matzah: Time to take that empty stomach and stuff it with burnt, crumbly and messy cardboard! This one sucks because it’s like, oh, only an egg’s worth? No problem! (This step is exacerbated by the fact that you gotta stuff it in your mouth in 2 minutes like it’s the end of the world- that’s why super religious guys full on chipmunk their pieces.) AND THEN YOU FIND OUT THAT’S IN WEIGHT AND YOU HAVE TO EAT A FULL SHEET OF PAPERS WORTH. and all of the sudden it’s a freaking olympics race to consume that against the ticking clocks.

Maror: Oh, you’re full? Too bad! Have some bitter lettuce (or, if you have a truly psycho family, horseradish. I pray for yall). You don’t even taste the charoses. It’s disgraceful

Korech: What’s that? You really can’t eat anymore? Time for the worst sandwich you’ll have all year! Consisting of this is definitely not bread and more bitter lettuce! (Seriously tho, this would have slapped in the times of the temple when there was lamb in the middle.)

The backstory behind this step is also hilarious. Everyone agreed you had to eat Pesach, matzah, and maror seperate except for renowned sage hillel, who thought you had to eat it in a sandwich. He was clearly wrong, but everyone just went “whatever, we’ll do both I guess, for your honor”. Freaking awesome- just imagine being so famous that people do stuff even though youre wrong.

Shulchan Orech: THE MEAL AT LONG LAST.

Tzafun: Oh now you really can’t take another bite? Have another half-sheet of papers worth of matzah that youve gotta compete against the clock for again. But no! Not so fast! First you have to find it. :) We love the rabbis! This step is another excuse for spoiled children who are somehow still awake at 12 am to demand presents.

Barech: Ya bentch. Not much to it. 

BUT, at the end you do the absolutely wonderful paragraph of shfoch chamatcha with your third cup of wine. What is that, you ask? Well, it translates to an extremely hostile call to god to annihilate the other nations, which you have to say with your front door open. Now, my family takes this a step further, because we’re psychopaths. We full out yell it on our porch for all of our non Jewish neighbors to hear, and be undoubtedly terrified. This year cuz of quarantine absolutely nobody was outside, so when my brother yelled it, you could hear it echoing from hundreds of feet away across the street. It was SPLENDID and we fully thought wed be arrested.

Third cup- all alcohol is disgusting and I hate life.

Hallel: Pretty standard, until you get up to what is usually the last bracha and find out nope they put in an extra 600 word paragraph as a treat! Did I mention I love the rabbis? What sadistic monsters thought this up?

And don’t forget the fourth cup so you can become sufficiently tired of grape juice that’s been sitting out for 4 hours!

Nirtzah: I can see the finish line. Now, my family has more fun traditions including saying the first long stanza (may it be “It came to pass at midnight” or “this is the feast of passover”) in spooky voices to spice stuff up because we all TIRED. 

Then, we enter a stage called I speed read everything for my family until we get up to who knows one, another favorite pesach tradition. Here, you have to say your stanza in one breath. It’s always good, especially when my brother gets 13 2 nights in a row and we all get to watch him insist he can get it for 5 minutes straight of failed takes. 

How bizzare is chad gadya also? We decide to end the seder with a horrific parable of everyone dying except for god who reigns supreme? Who made that one up?

And thus concludes the seder, where youre dead tired before you remember that you still have to clean up the table and surrounding areas, which by now are coated in a thiccccc layer of matzah crumbs because that stuff is THE DEVIL.

[kdtheghostwriter]

SNK 122 - Avalanche

Who would have thought when it happened that Eren kissing Historia’s hand would be THE moment of Shingeki no Kyojin. Imagine you’re picking up this lovely series for the first time. You see a fresh take on the survival-horror genre and think, “I could get into this.” A couple volumes in, you discover the zombie horde tale was a clever cover for a fleshy mecha gimmick. “Weird,” you think, “but ok.” Now it’s ten years and 130+ chapters later. We’re all reading a retelling of the Norse Myth of Creation wrapped in a cozy WWII disguise.

What do any of these words mean? Join me under the cut. It’s time for lore.

Thoughts on the chapter first. We finally get to see the life and times of Founder Ymir. Not surprisingly, she appears to be of vague Northern European origin in what appears to be the Middle Ages. The ancient Eldians were Vikings basically, but back then they weren’t even Eldian. They were human just like everyone else…until they weren’t.

Founder Ymir’s story eerily mirrors that of 104th Ymir. As a small child, she was nothing more than a scapegoat. Born a servant girl, she empathized with the group of pigs that had been captured. She released them, no doubt ruining someone’s feast in the process. A soldier asks who the offending party is and we see a great panel of Ymir surrounded by pointing fingers John Wick style.

Much like Mr. Wick, Ymir goes on the run only in a much different context. John Wick, in his universe, is the most prolific assassin alive. He’s on the run, but he’s not defenseless. Ymir is a child and is defenseless. The men (and I do emphasize the grown men) that chase after her never perceive her as a threat. They’re having a sporting time terrifying and slowly killing this innocent child. Running out of energy and time, Ymir happens across a humongous tree and decides an odd hiding spot is better than none at all. Entering the base of the tree, she falls down into an unseen hole – like Alice into the looking glass – and just as she’s about to lose consciousness, she comes in contact with what can only be described as…this.

A parasite? An alien lifeform? An ancient Eldridge manifestation? Maybe. Just like another old Myth there isn’t really a clear answer nor will there be. ‘Tis the Source of all Organic Matter and it was always there it was, lad.

We get several lessons here about how history can warp our perceptions of the individual players in both a positive and negative sense. Ymir never made a deal with the Devil to get her overwhelming power. She literally fell backwards into a divot and came out big as a mountain. On the other hand, the Founding Titan was not this ethereal being of divine beauty. The First Titan was grotesque to look at. It had no true face and its ribs were exposed, which I guess makes sense for a creature that large. Founder Ymir was a victim of circumstance and oppression. She has the power of nature and God at her fingertips but has only known servitude. That’s why there is no objection when she hears the following.

Not only is there CLEARLY no consent here, but I’m fairly sure Ymir is barely a teenager here so – Double Dose of Yikes!

Fittingly (or tragically, who can tell at this point), Ymir has three daughters: Maria, Rose and Sina. She raises her children while helping her nation conquer the lands around them with her unmatched power. However, thirteen years after her eldest child is born, a rogue soldier makes an attempt on the king’s life and Ymir leaps in front of the spear; one final act of indentured service.

Sort of. She is told correctly that she isn’t in danger. No doubt she has come back from far worse injuries than a spear to the collar. King Fritz tells her to get up and continue being a slave and Ymir says fuck you with her whole chest and gives up the ghost right there.

This shocking development leads to two things. First, we see the most graphic panel in a series full of gore and body horror as the children of Ymir are forced by Dear Old Dad to cannibalize their mother’s still-cooling corpse in order to obtain her power. Then, we see Ymir wake up in what we now know as the Paths dimension. Here she shall stay until a certain someone is able to receive and respond to her call for help.

That’s all for the backstory, now what about the source? It’s been documented well that Isayama loves myth and folklore especially of the Norse variety. Near the beginning of #122 we see Ymir fall into a tree that Momtaku and her co-host Luna succinctly describe as “both phallic and vulvic at the same time.” This seems like a clear reference to Yggdrasil, The World Tree. Yggdrasil is an interdimensional bridge with each branch connecting to a different realm, not unlike the branches we see in the PATHS dimension. Then we have the spine-like creature that latches on to Ymir like Symbiote under the tree. See if this looks familiar.

Nidhogg is a serpent that is known for eating away at the roots of the World Tree. It also has a famous rivalry with an unnamed eagle that sits atop Yggdrasil. A constant struggle between freedom and entrapment which is of course a central theme to this story. I’ve seen meta theorize that if the briny parasite represents the serpent of the Tree, that Eren Jaeger would represent the eagle the overlooks it and seeing how he’s spent most of this tale with wings on his back, that makes about as much sense as anything else.

It’s all a lead-up to Ragnarok: the End of the World.

Yup, that looks like the end to me.

When the First King lined up those Titans to form those walls, he couldn’t have known someone would find the one loophole to circumvent his failsafe. The reason the Coordinate Powers only fully activate for those of Royal Blood. It isn’t because of their genes alone. Ymir is a slave to the Royal Family, even centuries after her physical death. It isn’t until someone gives her a choice that she even thinks to take a different course of action.

What a charmer. This panel and the one that follows are both very important to me. Zeke, in his frenzy is a spitting image of King Fritz. Yes, the are directly related but also, I think there is something to be said of him taking on the form of Ymir’s greatest oppressor. After she hears Eren’s pitch to lend him her world-shattering power we see her eyes, full of tears, for the first time. Not an accident. It’s the first time in 2,000 years anyone has treated her like a person.

This is not an official theory or anything but it’s how I interpret this. The title of this chapter ‘From You, 2,000 Years Ago’ is of great significance outside of how it mirrors the title of the very first chapter. Ymir was sending a message and when we remember the Attack Titan’s special trait of moving (and looking) forward it’s clear who the messenger was. The question then becomes, was Eren the only one who was able to answer the call? Yes, just not for the reasons you would think.

 Technically, any of the Attack Titans (or any of them, I guess) could have unlocked the PATHS with enough work. The problem is, the only knowledge of Ymir’s story and the history of the Eldian people was with the Coordinate which, historically, was possessed by the Royal Line. It wasn’t until that fateful night when Grisha stole the Coordinate away that a very specific set of conditions could be met.

Once a single person of their own free will got even a glimpse of the tortured history and fate of Founder Ymir it was enough to set an incredibly complex series of events into motion. This is why the Attack Titan, even during the Great Titan War, can never listen to reason. They know what the end game is, thanks to Eren sending them snaps of that scenery.

Eren was special after all. Just not in the way we first thought. Funny that.

  Stray Thoughts

- Keep in mind that the final panel of Eren’s new Titan exploding out of his severed head happens the instant it lands in Zeke’s hand. How must Gabi be feeling right now? You think you’ve slain the Devil of the Earth and all you’ve done instead is give him immense power and an army of unstoppable giants. Someone get the Bart cake gif in the replys.

- The most impressive part of seeing Ymir’s backstory is that it was largely done with no dialogue. Almost felt like we were reading a scroll or ancient tome. Credit to the author for crafting such a deep, rich world to explore. Somehow, Shingeki no Kyojin isn’t the story he’s always wanted to tell but it will rightfully be the one he is best known for.

- Once again Zeke blows a 3-1 lead by being an entitled shithead. He and the rest of his family knew the story of Ymir and the fate she suffered and still saw fit to not only keep her imprisoned but to use her as a tool to subjugate their own people. No tears from me, muchacho.