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apocalypseornaw · 1 year ago

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Nothing I Would Change

(We'll pretend this is Dean for the sake of this)

I was tagged in this post by @kayhi808 on @witchygagirl the challenge was "cursed" so I used a Buffy episode storyline

Warnings um just cursing and mentions of blood I believe

"Alex, where did you hear about this place?" You followed her into the door of a costume shop she'd dragged you, Claire, Kaia and Patience to. The only reason Jody had ok'd the trip was due to your presence. "A nurse I work with" she replied looking over her shoulder at you with a smile.

You weren't sure about the idea of a Halloween party. Garth was hosting it but the idea of multiple hunters taking a night off on possibly one of the busiest nights? Kind of rubbed you the wrong way, plus the chance of something going sideways.

You followed the girls around the store half heartedly paying attention to their choices, giving your opinion when asked. Normally you loved taking the girls out for a day but your head wasn't in it. You and Dean weren't exactly fighting but there was something not quite right.

On some level you felt like maybe it was the idea that you weren't exactly the picture of femininity. Yeah you could clean up decent if a case called for it but you preferred your flannel and jeans. You knew Dean, he wasn't a guy like that. He did not expect the whole damsel in distress, need a man to save me type of girl but the longest relationship he'd ever had was Lisa and for fucks sake the woman wore satin gowns to sleep in while you wore an old band tshirt.

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"You're being quiet. What's up?" Claire asked once they all had purchases and you were yet to even look. You shrugged "stuck in my own head I guess" Kaia smiled "Want help picking a costume?" You nodded "Sure. You girls know my sizes. Have at it" the four of them went in separate directions so you headed for the dressing rooms to wait.

Claire came back with an outfit that vaguely resembled Xena, Kaia had a dress tucked over her arm while Alex had grabbed a nurse outfit and Patience a cop outfit. You took the bundle with a slight smirk "Jesus did all of you get suggestions from Dean?" A laugh ran through them "Just try them on! We don't need to know about what you and Dean do in the dark" Claire teased so you rolled your eyes at her before heading into the dressing room.

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The Xena outfit showed too much, The nurse outfit felt more like a role play outfit and the cop one just felt weird considering your boyfriend had gotten arrested by the feds multiple times in his life. You pulled out the last outfit which was Kaias pick. It was a dress that resembled some of the costumes you'd seen on "Reign" it was gorgeous and when you slipped it on you felt like a princess.

When you opened the door all of the girls started to whistle. "That's the one!" You laughed as they made a big deal out of you "Ok, ok. I'll get it!"

"Sweetheart, we're gonna be late...." Dean trailed off when he walked into the bathroom to see Jody helping you put the final touches on your hair. "Do you like it?" You asked with a nervous smile, smoothing the front of the dress. He nodded slowly, eyes raking across your body "You're absolutely beautiful baby" Jody let out a light laugh "You two are adorable really but Dean's right, you're gonna be late"

Her and Donna had opted to hand out candy to trick or treaters so they were staying home. You shot her a smile then followed Dean out. You weren't one of those couples to do matching costumes and he'd gone with a peaky blinders inspired look and sweet lord the first time you'd seen it you had to pick your jaw up off the floor and Eileen had responded similarly to Sam's getup as well.

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Dean opened the passenger side door for you and when you raised an eyebrow he smirked "Cmon let me be a gentleman" you smiled and placed a quick kiss against his lips "Of course" then climbed in.

Once he was in the driver's seat he reached over for your hand. "You look amazing sweetheart" he spoke quietly and while you looked the attention it wasn't doing anything to subdue your worries. You smiled hoping it looked genuine as you replied "Look at yourself Winchester"

The party was going great. A lot of hunters were in attendance including hunters like Garth and the Banes twins that weren't just normal hunters. Dean watched as you danced with Max and couldn't help but smile, the last few weeks you'd seemed distant and it had worried him. What if you'd decided he wasn't what you wanted, what if you'd found someone better? He couldn't face losing you. He'd never felt about anyone the way he felt about you. He loved you in a way he'd never thought possible and hearing your laughter when Max dramatically dipped you made his heart flip.

"Careful Dean, your face may crack if you smile any harder" he heard someone tease and turned to face Makayla, one of your friends. He laughed lightly "Can't help it. I know I'm a lucky man" she smiled "I'm glad to see her happy. She deserves the best" Dean nodded, never taking his eyes off you "Yeah she does"

The British men of letters hadn't been active in a long time, not since the seige of hunters versus them. No one could have predicted them attacking at a Halloween party of all things.

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The chaos littered around the field the party had been set up in was insane even compared to shit Dean had seen. Monsters crawled in from every corner and fights were everywhere.

Garth and Bess were both teeth and claws tearing through beasts while the Banes were throwing spells left and right. Dean hadn't been worried considering you could handle yourself pretty well but when he noticed a handful of people taking on the characteristics of their costumes the mystery costume shop you and the girls had gone to popped into his head.

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Dean's face was slick with blood, none of it was his. He'd fought his way through a trio of Loup-Garous to get to you. He'd heard your scream and when he found you you'd been pinned against a tree by a vampire about to sink his teeth into your neck.

He'd never moved as fast as he did slicing the vamp's head from his shoulders. Your eyes locked with his half a second before you fainted.

Your head felt like a mixture of the first time you'd drank moonshine, mixed with your first concussion mixed with the migraine you'd had after lucifer had snapped your neck and Cas brought you back.

You opened your eyes slowly and realized you were in one of Garths guest cabins. You tried to sit up but the world shifted causing you to have no choice but to fall back against the pillows with a groan. What the hell had happened?

You looked down to see you were wearing one of Dean's shirts and a pair of his boxers instead of the dress you'd been in. The last thing you remembered was talking to Makayla.

"Dean" you called out, grimacing at how rough your voice sounded. You heard footsteps a second before the door opened to reveal Dean. He was still wearing his peaky blinders look but was coated in blood. That alone made you push through your dizziness to sit up "What happened? Are you ok?"

He quickly made it to the bed easing you back against the headboard in a seated position "British men of letters. We officially wiped out that chapter now thanks to some of Rowenas contacts" you nodded slowly "Why don't I remember?" He touched the shirt you wore "The dress? That store was a front. They placed plants in front of quite a few hunters to get as many of us as possible into cursed costumes" he took a shallow breath before you saw his face fall "I almost lost you"

He sat down next to you and pulled you into his arms. You laid your head against his chest "I'm sorry Dean. I just wanted to be soft and feminine for once" you felt him stiffen under you "Is that why you've been distant? You feel like I don't see you as feminine enough?" You wouldn't meet his eyes but nodded.

He gently grasped your arms to push you back where he could grip your chin to make you look at him "I almost lost you to a cursed costume because you think I give a shit about things like if your makeups done? I love you, I love you in my old shirt, I love you when you're filthy after a hunt, I love you when you're dressed up, I love you when you're in sweats. I don't care what thought has went through that beautiful head of yours but there isn't anything about you that I don't love and there's not a damn thing about you I would change ok?"

You nodded, feeling tears spring to your eyes "Did we lose anyone?" He shook his head "No, thankfully we didn't" he pulled you back against his chest so you let him, laying your head down to listen to his heartbeat. "Matching costumes next year?" You asked quietly and felt his chest vibrate with laughter "As long as we go somewhere like target or spirit halloween, only chain stores from here on out"

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #spn fanfiction #halloween fic

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acidh2otoby · 2 years ago

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Mini Redfield, Part 4

Chris Redfield & OC!Son

Warnings: B.O.W.s, death, violence, infection, Nicholai Zinoviev

Accidental cliff hanger btw, I'll be making a full fic on another website and (hopefully) I'll link it in a separate post when I post it.

Parts 1, 2, 3

September 29th, 1998. 2:11.am.

Evan was still sound asleep as Jill held him as the train moved down the tracks. Jill was having a hard time falling asleep, not for any particular reason other than some small paranoia about the monster chasing her to the ends of Raccoon City. She stared out the window as Mikhail and Nicholai came back into the subway car, Mikhail took a seat a little bit away from Jill and Evan as Nicholai began talking.

"You don't really think a pencil-pusher like Bard is still alive, do you?" Nicholai asked, stopping beside Mikhail.

"I have it on good authority. Why? Are you worried about teammates? Or something else?" Mikhail asked, pausing a little.

Jill wasn't fully paying attention to the conversation until now. What else could Nicholai be worried about?

"Funny how brainless zombies can ambush a platoon like that. Funny the gate was lock. Don't you think?" Mikhail asked Nicholai, tilting his head a little.

Nicholai smiled and chuckled a little before the lights went out in the subway before something caused the train to jolt. Evan woke up from it and sat up, allowing Jill to stand up.

"What was that?" Jill asked, mostly to herself.

The door to the car that held all the survivors opened to reveal that monster standing in the middle of it, the car on fire and all survivors dead. Evan's eyes widened at the destruction that it caused, how did it do that within only a few seconds?

"How is this fucker not dead yet?!" Jill yelled, running towards the car and grabbing her gun.

Mikhail grabbed Jill's arm and stopped her. "Jill, no. They're gone. Come. This way." Mikhail said, slightly moving Evan and Jill in the direction towards the other door.

Nicholai was already on the other side when Jill got close enough to the door, she tried to turn the handle but it wouldn't move.

"Nicholai, what are you doing?" Jill asked, continuing to jiggle the handle.

"It's not after me." Nicholai replied, pointing towards the monster before winking and laughing as he ran away. He had locked the door from the other side.

"Nicholai!" Jill yelled, banging on the door.

Gunshots ripped Jill's and Evan's attention away from Nicholai and to Mikhail. He was shooting at the monster before it used one of its tentacle things to stab Mikhail through the stomach, pulling him towards the monster.

Evan heard Mikhail say something before and explosion occurred, causing the train to derail. Jill grabbed Evan and held on to him before they both got knock out from being tossed around.

Jill woke up with Evan still in her arms, he was unconscious but she started to get out of the now crashed train. She pushed Evan out of the train before crawling her way out, picking him back up once she got up.

"Am I the only one who made it?" Jill asked herself, glancing back to the train.

The next room she went into was a safe room and she took a second, patching up any scratches she and Evan had before trying to get him to wake up. It didn't take long for Evan to wake up and follow behind Jill as they found a way out of the underground subway passages.

They both climbed up a ladder to find themselves basically in the dead center of Raccoon City, the clocktower. A roar was heard from where they had just come from, causing Evan to gasp and jump.

"That fucker's still alive. We can't stay here." Jill said, pulling out her gun and beginning to lead the way to a safer place.

Evan followed until they got to the bridge where the monster had jump up from the ladder and was panicking from the fire on itself, it wasn't looking at where it was going and fell into the river.

"Bitch can't even swim." Jill muttered, slowly walking on the bridge as she pulled her radio out. "Carlos! Respond!"

Evan heard Carlos say something but couldn't make out what he said.

"We didn't make it. The train derailed." Jill informed, waiting for a response. "Everybody's dead. Mikhail. Everybody. Except Evan and I." Another pause, Jill stopped walking this time. "Nicholai left us to die."

Evan heard something in the water and looked to see what it was, he couldn't see what it was exactly but saw bubbles. "Jill... there's something in the water." Evan said, moving behind Jill.

Jill glanced down at Evan before looking at the water to see what he was seeing, she also saw the bubbles. "What the fuck...?!" Jill whispered, pulling the radio away from her.

The confusion about the bubbles in the river were soon answered as the monster from before jumped at the two, it seemed to have mutated so now it looked like it was some kind of animal. Jill dodged towards the rest of the bridge and had pushed Evan in the other direction, hoping the monster would chase her.

"It's back!" Jill yelled as she tried to grab her radio but then just had to run as the monster started chasing her.

Evan sat up and stared at the scene for a second before grabbing Jill's radio and running to catch up, not wanting to get left behind. The gap in the bridge was too big for Evan to jump over, so he grabbed some of the planks Jill had used to try and keep the monster back to try and get across. It was a slow and scary walk but it had to be done. Once Evan had gotten back to Jill, the monster was dead in front of the clocktower.

Jill hugged Evan and he gave her the radio back and she tried to call Carlos again, Evan wasn't really paying attention and was more focused on the monster, he didn't trust that it was dead and stared at it.

"Hey, c'mon. We gotta get the hell outta here." Jill said, approaching the monster's body before stopping in front of it. "You go first. In case that thing wakes up, you'll be able to run and get out of here."

Evan hesitated before carefully stepping over the monster's hand and getting into the clocktower. Jill did the same but she was grabbed by the monster once she entered, she lost her balance and fell, allowing the monster to drag her towards it.

Jill shot at it a couple of times before glancing up and shooting a wire that was connected to the gate that kept it open. The gate slammed shut and decapitated the monster's arm. Jill got up and grabbed Evan's hand as she began running, only to stop when she heard Evan yell in pain and stop.

The monster had re-grown its arm and hit Evan with a needle in his arm. Evan pulled the needle out before he started coughing, his body began shaking a little as he fell to the ground. Jill immediately knelt down beside him and held him as he seemed to be having a seizure and foam started coming out of his mouth.

Jill's radio started beeping and she grabbed it, knowing it would be Carlos.

"Jill, what happened?" Carlos asked, he sounded a little short of breath.

"Carlos! Where's Nathaniel Bard?" Jill asked, yelling a little in a panic.

"He's at the Spencer Memorial Hospital. Why? What's wrong?" Carlos asked, he sounded concerned.

"I don't have time to explain right now. Just get to the hospital and I'll meet you there." Jill said quickly before putting away her radio and picking up Evan, running as fast as she could to the hospital.

#resident evil #chris redfield #oc stuff #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #mikhail victor #nicholai zinoviev

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 1 year ago

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@materassassino replied to your post:

It's the refusal to surrender to whimsy and surrealism. Alice is weird because it's dream logic but the modern versions keep trying to constrain it in a conventional narrative arc.

See, it's funny you say that, because while you make a good point, it wasn't at all what I was griping to Rudo about. I was mainly talking about problems of design, which I think often lean in the direction of being too whimsical while forgetting what dream logic actually is. I got set off by a set of Alice coloring pages in an app I like. The initial illustration had the White Rabbit in a wildly colorful tailcoat and a top hat, which rubbed me the wrong way, because it was too ridiculous. The thing about the White Rabbit that's interesting to Alice isn't that he's some sort of cartoon thing, it's that he's a perfectly ordinary-looking rabbit who is also, apparently, a perfectly ordinary Victorian businessman. It's only when he pulls out his pocket watch that it strikes her as odd, because that's dream logic--everything's perfectly usual until something's a bridge too far and then you realize how weird everything is.

The other big victim of this is the poor Cheshire Cat, because so many modern designers take the Disney film as gospel and make him purple when that was just an aesthetic choice made for that movie because it's very colorful. If you look at the John Tenniel illustration from the novel, the important thing isn't that it's an unusual-looking cat:

It's a perfectly ordinary cat--probably even an ordinary size, given that Alice is at the moment about three inches tall--which is simply doing something very strange with its mouth. It would be upsetting if you met a cat and it grinned at you like that! A cat's mouth isn't supposed to do that! That's dream logic. It doesn't need to have more teeth than the usual feline complement or be a funny color.

(With this one there's even a comparable example of a more recent provenance in Venom. A lot of depictions of Venom focus on the tongue, and, I mean, this is Tumblr, we know at least one reason why there's so much focus on the tongue. The original thing about Venom that made him scary, though, was much simpler. Imagine you're out late in New York City, hurrying home from the corner bodega with a couple of bottles of soda and a pastrami sandwich, when you suddenly run into Spider-Man. Which, hey, this is New York City, sometimes you see Spider-Man, it's normal. Isn't he looking trim in his nice new black suit! He turns, you smile and wave, he spots you...and then he opens his mouth. And you are suddenly very aware that whatever that thing is, that's not Spider-Man. It's a horror movie moment! Not that the Cheshire Cat should inherently be a horror movie critter, but it's a jarring moment of weirdness.)

Basically I think people get carried away by the whimsy of design such that they lose the dreaminess of the actual story; the problem of the narrative is a separate issue that I'm not really prepared to address.

Apart from that, the story's just suffered such a loss over time in pure cultural context. Like, people in Wonderland keep insisting that Alice recite things for them, and then the following poems are parodies of specific bits of "improving" verse that Victorian children were taught at the time, except that they're not taught at all now and thus most readers don't recognize them. I'm not saying that "How Doth The Little Busy Bee" should be taught in schools again, but it's a shame to see that sort of joke lost.

Kept myself and Rudo up far too late last night rambling about the problems in and with many modern presentations of Alice in Wonderland, and even now I still haven't stopped thinking about them.

#dangerous communist propaganda #materassassino

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sterlingarcher23 · 2 years ago

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Elumax will happen...

Elmax will happen. Lumax will happen. Elumax will happen... Just not the way most imagine or would like.

They showed us how it will be made reality or better where: ElMax will happen in the mind. Lumax in reality.

El fought the monsters in the mind and revived her - Lucas fought the monsters in reality and caught her.

Elmax isn't one sided nor fan fiction, it's real believed to be fan fiction... Korrasami was fan fiction made reality:

Korrasami... (Or better: Korraava?) - They flipped the concept and made it look like ElMax is just a fan fiction thing.

On her heart. That description alone is telling. El revived her and then sent her mind into another dimension over a rainbow bridge. The script does not leave much room for interpretation here. Body goes to body (the UD is technically one huge organism), mind goes to mind. So this is a dimension of mind, of dreams and thought - the antithesis to the UD.

This is where Max's consciousness is now and needs to be send back/replaced and a connection to a healthy mind guarantees that she can feel and see. (see also links at the end of this post)

El and Max are made as exact mirrors, connected through their accessories and hearts.

But they are never alone.

There's always space for a third person, the lover who isn't there.

"Without heart we'd all fall apart. Even El. Especially El."

Max is the heart. She is literally the answer to a neverending story. And the very life of Lucas. Both are focus points in Max's heart and she does love both of them.

There were love confessions in Season 4 without using "ILY" at all.

Elumax will happen. They even made a poem consistent of two separate ones for them:

It's not a matter of chances but of what's there in the show. It will be unusual, it will be heart wrenching and heartbreaking but it will happen. It will be "quite moving and beautiful." as David Harbor put it, who pieced together what's gonna happen because he knows his characters arc, having a theoretical idea about this. (He stated this in an interview with Jimmy Kimmel recently). And Hopper's story is about El. So, it's about Max too.

My advice is to forget thinking of Elumax as a "traditional" relationship even for a poly: it won't be.

If you would have asked me months ago, I wouldn't even have seen Elmax as a real thing, not to speak of Elumax. I wasn't even a hardcore fan of the show. Weeks and months of looking at the pure evidence itself, thinking about it, coming from the point of view of the general audience because that's what I was, just GA (important imo because you tend to look at things from a different perspective).

As someone who didn't ship them then, even when I found Elmax I rejected them because it was to painful as my findings how they would solve that coma problem hurt to much but then I can't denie them either because it would be a lie... for all those reasons I can tell you: Elmax will happen. Lumax will happen. Both are set in stone. It will hurt, it will make you cry but it will happen.

I started with a simple question: How they would solve the Max problem because that's what this is about. I basically solved this after a few days. Then I found Elmax as a romantic couple and the rest is history.

They intended this to be: they can make it happen. They will make it work. And it will blow your mind.

Not going to put everything about how El and Max will happen in this post, only the links. But to give you an idea:

#max mayfield #elmax #elmax nation #stranger things #elmax supremacy #elmax my beloved #el hopper #elmax is real #elumax #lumax #lucas sinclair

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skiyoosmi · 4 years ago

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post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu writings #haikyuu angst #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #haikyuu imagines #post break-up heartaches

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Of Ice and Blood

Part 5

Look who's back with a 5k+ word count chapter?! Me!

I was planning on posting 1k+ at a time but stuff happened and I'm posting it all at once!

Enjoy and I'd appreciate it dearly if you reblog! Thank you!

Edit: Reached the 250 block limit so... The inevitable decision had to be made! Part 5 has a total of 3.42k words! The rest will be in a separate post <3

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, brief mentions of blood and injury.

Overall SFW (but 16+ for language)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 Part 6

The walk back to the school building was quiet.

Or so I thought.

Because it wasn't. At all.

Whispers, mutterings, echoed from the rooms as we passed by.

Are they doing it on purpose, or is my hearing sharper than usual?

"Hey look it's that girl."

"You mean the freak who sat beside the orc—"

"First day of school and someone already got killed. Should've expected him to be a savage."

"You think she wears a mask to hide her identity? Maybe she's a criminal-"

Probably the latter.

I shrugged. There stood a decent amount of distance between us anyway. So it's likely my hearing.

Students were watching us with weird suspecting eyes from a distance behind the windows. Sensing apprehension and outward hate when they saw Tai'chi next to me, his face in a neutral expression. But with my nose at this proximity, he smells pretty annoyed.

Just— why are there so many people,— humans–garnering these feelings towards someone they don't even know! And to even mock him like that! How dare —

"Pearl," Tai'chi called. His rich voice resonating, making the gossips of the students stop for a brief moment before they continued. Most likely slandering my name now. I didn't know I was standing still. Looking up, Tai'chi was a decent 9 meters away, with the staff members further ahead of him. He gave me a wondering look, worry along with his natural fragrance, drifted through me, carried by air.

I straightened up and took long strides, Tai'chi beside me, to catch up with them.

"Yeah, just thinking. I'm okay." Replying, not looking up to him. He didn't ask, but I felt like he would.

************short pov shift************

He was a bit bothered by the change in your scent and looked back when he noticed you weren't beside him anymore. There you were, standing in the middle of the wide hallway, brows scrunched up in aggravation.

He called out to you, probably a little louder than he meant to, but you looked up and hastily made your way beside him, both of you catching up to the rest towards the dean's office. He didn't ask, but you answered, only making him worry even more.

**********first person pov**************

As soon as we entered the main office of the center building, we were greeted with the sight of the dean and David, together with Miss Holson. He was a white fat man, though a bit taller than me, wearing a light grey suit with a few buttons open revealing a white undershirt, and a silly yellow, violet polka dot tie. I barely held back from snorting at the sight.

Mr. Silverstone was fussing over his son, his voice raised in slight panic was heard by everyone.

They went ahead of us then.

"My son! My dear, dear David! Who did this to you?!" he cried out. Once David, that son of a bitch, spotted me, he flashed me that blasted grin of his. He was acting, pretending to be hurt.

I hardly even left a scratch on him for fuck's sake. How I regret not punching him straight in the face.

Reverting to his fake, frightened, and miserable state, he pointed at me. "I-I-It's her father! She is the one who attacked me! Along with that thing with her."

Thing?! That sick bastard!

The dean whipped his head in my direction, eyes scanning me up and down before he diverted them to Tai'chi.

Well, it seems I'll ve packing up sooner than I thought.

My shoulders sagged.

Some professors were alarmed by this, frantically pushing forward to grab his attention.

"Mr. Silverstone, we still do not know what's for certain. We must interrogate them properly and listen to each of their sides before we make a decision." Mr. Dulrik asserted, his voice strained and close to animosity. He was not pleased with what the student had said.

The elder professor from earlier followed up.

"Listen to Mr. Dulrik, sir. We cannot take any risks and ju—"

"Silence!" the dean shouted. "I will not hear your reasoning. My son has told me everything I need to know. Miss Holson supported his claims and that's enough to decide what to do with these criminals."

Criminals?!

"The girl and that orc shall be expelled from this institution immediately. We do not need any murderers or barbarians here. I have always suspected why that Ernestine brat even allowed these monstrosities to be with us. To breathe the same air and walk the same land as we do, endangering our safety no less! A pathetic excuse of a founder she is! If it were me I would've—"

"You would've what?" Words came out before I stopped myself, my voice low, but it was heard still, drawing their attention to me.

"What did you just say?" He demanded, his anger slipping out more. The room was silent, except for the subtle ticking of the wall clock behind me, and the movement of air around us.

I lifted my head and looked at him dead in the eye. "You would've what?" This time, I replied, louder.

Before he could retort I went on, emotion fueling my words as I advanced with every question asked.

"Would've banned every single, non-human race from the university?

"Would've taught every human that they are greater beings and the ones that were different were meant to be stepped on?

"Would've ordered and tolerated bullying on anyone who was unnatural and weird looking?

"Would've put them in their place?

Isolate them? Degrade them? Despise them for being alive?" No-one stopped me as I approached him, the teachers separating and making way. Even Mr. Dulrik was regarding me curiously.

I scoffed. " 'If it were me' you said. You think I wouldn't notice how everyone else, that isn't human, was oppressed and treated like shit in this school? It seems to me that you already did what you would've done, didn't you? You are no dean, you are a clown, a pillock, a dumbass, and you call yourself human? You are more monster than any of us in this room."

I breathed heavily as I stood a couple of feet in front of him. His face grew to a crimson hue, my ears catching the sound of smoke seething out of him. At the back, David and Miss Holson were dumbfounded, shocked into place, shaken like ugly statues.

Finally, the dean spoke, his fists clenching hard as he faced me, almost drawing blood.

I am so gonna beat him up. Hell yeah, I will.

"Keep out of trouble if you can." Well, shit happened Mama, forgive me.

"How dare you speak to me like that! I, a pure-blood Silverstone, a line of royalty! If we were still at war I would've had you executed from where you stand—"

"How about you do it yourself then, oh mighty Silverstone jerk?" I mocked and gave a toothy smile, then I remembered he wouldn't see it. That was all it took to have him launching himself at me, the professors running to the sides to avoid his wrath.

His hands were balled tight, a fist aiming for my face, eyes filled with deadly intent.

Oh, he really wants to kill me.

Before it connected, I sidestepped, causing him to stumble forward. Even so, he immediately regained his balance and reached to grab my hoodie. I didn't dodge this time, but before he touched me, I used my right hand to slap it away. With my other hand, fitted with my crimson knuckle dusters, I met his fist with mine. Almost instantly, he stumbled back and crouched down, his left hand holding his bloodied one.

"You bitch!!!" he screamed in agony.

I think I broke his hand.

I glanced to my brass knuckles, some of the blood covering them, merely visible because of its color.

Shattered it perhaps.

"I will have you killed you insolent brat! I'll kill you!" he cursed.

"Now, now, Silverstone, you will do no such thing." A feminine voice cut through the large room. We all turned to the door to see a slim, tall, tanned woman who seemed to be in her 40s, her slightly wrinkled face showing it. She was wearing a black high-waist pencil skirt paired with a black one-button suit and a baby blue undershirt. The lady also wore classic white loafers and white hand gloves made of leather, with her ebony hair tied up in a bun.

Everything about her screams 'important'. I scented an intimidating yet reassuring aura around her.

I met her eyes and a sense of familiarity fell upon me. I know her and I've seen her before.

Wait. Could it be— she's—

"Madame Ernestine!" A professor exclaimed.

That means she's, "The founder," I said out loud.

She began sauntering in my direction, each step clicking on the floor, carrying herself with grace.

"M-Ma-Madame Ernestine!" The dean, shrieked as he stood up, shaking, his busted hand in his chest, his back facing me. "I didn't expect you to visit this year! We could've prepared for your arrival—"

"You shut your mouth now Welmir." She spoke out, her voice firm and borderline hostile. "I've had enough of your blabbering mug. I made it so that my arrival is unexpected. Leaving my outside duties rather early and rushed this year when news got to me that you, the dean, were neglecting your duties, or so, doing it wrong. Not to mention I had my assistant install extra cameras in... certain places last year and because of that, I saw what you did in the shadows. Maybe not all, but it confirmed my suspicions of you, and so," She clapped her together, "I decided to visit you today. And what a surprise it was to see you get beaten up by this lovely young lady behind you."

Me?! Lovely—

My face warmed from her comment.

"Listen here, brat." he regarded the founder. The founder. "I do not know what you are talking about. I have done my duties and more for this university. I made it so that everyone here is safe and this girl,"— he spat— "harmed me, my precious son, and his friends!"

"And all of you deserved it, severely," she responded flatly. "You put my dear students at risk and antagonized them with your schemes, tolerating the behavior of treating other races like animals, disrespecting even the professors who are different in kind," she glanced at Mr. Dulrik and the others. "You even forced a minotaur, an elf, and a dwarven student to act the part of being in a student council, hoping people wouldn't notice the crimes you did behind our backs. Did you expect me to turn blind eye to this?"

It was all pretend?!

The mere thought of what he did to threaten them to it makes me wanna puke.

"I am furious, Welmir Silverstone. To think I believed you'd change your ways after my father's death with the renovation of the institute. Trusted you to do your job as dean and make the students comfortable, welcomed. But, no. You chose to follow his footsteps, became selfish, blinded by greed and pointless hate. You are a disappointment to all of us."

I smelled her rage under that near non-expressive facade of hers. It was spicy, like fire having an odor of its own.

"You are but a child! You know nothing of this world! This world of ours needs to be purged off of those rats. You cannot tell me what to do!" He yelled as he brought up his uninjured hand to hit her. I was about to step in when Madame Ernestine grabbed his arm and threw a right uppercut, blood spilling out of his jaw. The punch sent him a few steps back, he would have landed on me if I didn't move out of the way before he collapsed on the floor groaning and holding his mouth.

Ooh she's strong! Nice! I grinned.

"You are hereby stripped off of your job as dean along with all of your titles, properties, and henceforth banished from these grounds, together with your son and Emma Holson, whom I found out laid with him, and the abusive acts they had engaged in." Her words laced with poison, disgust and anger as she gave the final judgement.

"Never show yourselves. Ever. Again," she spat. "Take them away."

Out of nowhere, men in black suits came in and apprehended the young instructor, who twisted her heel trying to escape. She yelled at them to let her go, saying she has done nothing wrong. David, the bastard, was held in place by one of them as he struggled in their grasp. The dean— or should I say, Mr. Silverstone, in pain and bleeding, was dragged up by two others and headed straight out of the door. He shouted ;

"Mark my words, brat! I will—"

And the door slammed close.

With my gaze following them, my eyes landed on Tai'chi. I took off my dusters and waved, tucking them back up my sleeve.

He is smiling! And oh wow he's damn gorgeous— wait what?

My attention was drawn away to the lady in front of me. I got distracted by Tai'chi that I almost forgot about her.

"Oh my God I uhm— hello Madame Ernestine." I took one step back before bowing. "It's an honor to meet you. I—"

"Oh dear, please raise your head. No need for such formal gestures. I am Valerie Ernestine, founder of the new Ernestine State University." She stated as she beamed at me.

"I uh- Yes ma'am I know of you. I'm quite a fan actually— I mean! My name is Pearl Blackbell, ma'am."

Oh God, that sounded so stupid.

Then she hugged me.

"Ma'am?!" I squeaked. My arms went stiff, nervous to even touch her. Before I could, she pulled back, a gentle expression on her face.

"Nice to meet you, Pearl Blackbell."

"I- nice to meet you too Ma'am Ernestine!" I stammered, praying my face and ears isn't as red as I feel them to be.

"Please, call me Valerie."

"Ma'am Valerie."

"Just Valerie, dear."

"I'm so sorry ma'am but I can't— my mother will hit me in the head with a frying pan if I forget my manners."

"Very well, then. It brings me joy that you were raised properly by your parents."

"Thank you ma'am, I really am happy to have them, and I only hope for them to be proud of me— oh wait. Uh, ma'am Valerie?"

"Yes?"

"Am I gonna get punished or expelled?" I shrunk, expecting the worst.

"Why ever did you think of that?"

"W-Well you see, I did harm uh, students and they're probably in the infirmary right now and—"

"Oh, Pearl, no." She let out a light chuckle. "You won't be punished or even expelled for that! In fact, I saw how you defended yourself and your friend from them. They did attack you first, sweetie. And what you did was impressive!" She clapped her hands. As I stood there in relief, I couldn't help but shot up when the words sank in.

"Oh, thank you. But how...?"

"Apparently, I had my assistant install some cameras in the forest area for particular reasons. I watched you from the monitor as I made my way here," she replied.

"Oh. Oh, wow. That's actually pretty awesome," I sighed.

"Indeed, it is," she smiled. "Excuse me for a bit."

******pov shift to 2nd person (two characters)*****

Madame Ernestine turned and walked towards the remaining teachers to talk about important matters at hand.

"Greetings, my friends." She beamed at the staff and looked at Professor Dulrik and the woman who supported him earlier. "Hello, Roldo and Amila. I have missed you dearly." She bent down to hug the two of them before she went on. "I apologize for not taking action immediately. To think he did this to all of you right under my nose! Why didn't you contact me Roldo?"

"My apologies, Madame Ernestine. I didn't have any proof to show his plot against you and the others. He was very elusive and kept us very busy in our own offices for the past year with you away. That was until today, with the young lady over there standing up against his son, he snapped."

"It really is a good thing she came here, didn't she?" she whispered.

"Indeed, Madame," Amila replied.

There was a brief silence, before Valerie spoke up again. Her gaze locked at the dwarven professor.

"Roldo, my old friend, I want you to take your place as the new dean of this university. I trust you to do your duty a hundred percent better than that impudent man ever did. Will you accept this responsibility?"

"I- Valerie this is-"

"Roldo, you are wise and have seen things most of us here have not. I will not force you on something you do not want, but I put my faith in you, to help me, along with the rest of the staff, to teach everyone here that all of us stand in equal ground, and that we must respect and acknowledge each individual, regardless of their kind. No one, no student, should ever feel uncomfortable in this haven of mine."

"I understand, Valerie." The dwarf took a deep breath and vowed;

"I, Roldo Dulrik, son of Grol II, son of Frerin, accept the responsibilities given to me as dean of Ernestine State University. I will do my duty to the best of my abilities, and remain loyal to you and to this institution." He responded as he thumped his right fist against his chest.

"I know you will, my friend." Valerie grinned at him, her eyes full of trust and hope.

While they were occupied with discussing certain issues, you tried to sneak away, only to be called back by Madame Ernestine.

"Pearl, my dear."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Thank you."

She had a soft smile, emotions clear on her face, directed at you. The founder, Valerie was thanking you for your bravery, kindness and overall honesty. You simply nodded and grinned from ear to ear behind your mask. You were, however, suddenly nervous when Valerie and the two professors approached you. No, actually, all of them were, but the others are heading out of the office, perhaps to go back to their respective classrooms and start working, they gave their thanks as they went out.

"Pearl Blackbell, a wonderful name!" Professor Dulrik remarked. "May the Gods bless you and shine upon you in all your days," he grinned. Before you could reply, Professor Amila hugged you and whispered. "Thank you, for beating up those idiots," —which made you giggle— "It was the right thing to do, and also I had to defend myself. and thank you, Professor Dulrik."

"Nonsense, call me Professor Roldo, lass." He patted your shoulder as he went past you and out of the office, but not before he slapped Tai'chi's forearm.

"You best protect her if you can, lad. Even so, it is obvious she won't need protecting!" He laughed, and went on, quietly, as if whispering. "...Be her friend, my boy. Her eyes...they show the pain she had gone through. You saw that in her, didn't you?"

Tai'chi simply nodded in response. He knew what he meant.

"Then do what you must. If word ever comes to me that you hurt her, I will hunt you down with me battle axe hidden in my office, you hear?"

This time, he chuckled. "I hear you, Professor. I won't. I swear on the the name of my clan, no harm will befall on her." He told him, his voice firm and true.

"That's what I'm talking about, lad!" He replied as he finally exited the room.

Tai'chi shifted his gaze to you. You and the dean were still talking so he stood there, patiently.

"We best be on our way. We still have a number of things to set straight. We will see you around, Miss Blackbell. Don't get into trouble now." The founder giggled.

"I will try my best, ma'am."

"Oh sure you will, sweetie. Goodluck. And oh, the two of you should start going back. It's past lunchbreak afterall." She said as the two ladies sauntered past you and went out.

"Thank you, we will." You said, mostly to yourself.

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

Part 6 will be posted shortly! Like, shortly shortly. Like, an hour or so shortly. Stay tuned! Thank you for reaching this point uwu✨

Tags: @crackinanutshell @kokokatsworld @mitchiesdungeon <3

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2460nodone · 4 years ago

Text

Trophies

Title: Trophies Category: Plays/Musicals » Les Misérables Author: AliceInSomewhereland Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Drama/Romance Published: 05-19-13, Updated: 05-19-13 Chapters: 1, Words: 3,671

Summary: They meet on their respective fields - his, baseball, and hers, soccer - and it changes everything. Enjonine modern AU for the Fic War on tumblr! Oneshot, rated T for language.

originally written for the e/e fic war and posted to ffnet. prompted with “soccer AU, baseball AU” by tumblr user samthenardier.

Chapter 1/1

He's not quite sure when he first noticed her.

Perhaps it was the weekend Courfeyrac hit the ball out of their diamond, and, as he played in the outfield, she reached him first to return it. He hardly paid her any mind, only nodding in thanks. She was clearly just as busy as he, covered in dirt and soaked with sweat, her shin guards smeared with grass stains.

Perhaps it was the weekend that it rained. Bahorel and Grantaire, playing on his team that weekend, were highly distracted when the women with whom she was playing declared their match to be shirts versus skins. She seemed to be the chief in insisting that it be the girls who played as skins, against the shirted boys.

The boys on his baseball team couldn't help but stare as the girls stripped, their shorts rolled low on their hips and clinging to their thighs in the rain, their tops bare, save for their soaked-through sports bras.

He noticed that she and her friends were frequently shooting glances in the direction of the baseball diamond, delighting and giggling when his teammates and opponents fawned over them.

Perhaps he noticed her the weekend that it was so hot they almost had to cancel – she, again, was shirtless, but this time her sports bra was soaked with sweat. They watched as she poured cold water over her face and head and shoulders – his teammates with hunger and desire, he with disinterest.

Perhaps it was the weekend he saw her running to their diamond, soccer ball under her arm and her hand entwined with another girl's, one with dusky skin and dark hair. They sat in the bleachers, watching and cheering and laughing. It was quite distracting. Afterwards, he watched as she made a beeline to Marius, just as Joly and Bossuet appeared to be racing to talk to her friend first.

He paid her little to no mind, though he did notice when she wasn't there sometimes, especially because his baseball team (and often their visiting competition) and the eternal pick-up soccer game that she participated in often went out for drinks together after their respective games were over. It seemed oddly quiet when she wasn't there, rare though that was, but it also irritated him when she was there, because she spent the whole damn time mooning over Marius and trying to get that freckled fool to pay attention to her.

He never bothered to interact with her; in fact, he didn't even know her name. Nor did he try to learn it. Whenever she came into his peripherals, he merely acknowledged her mentally as "Marius' Shadow."

However, everything changed when he was leaving the park one day, and came across her corned up against a tree, an older man who must have been her father screaming in her face as she cowed. When the man hit her across the face, he lost it.

He dropped his things, and suddenly he was next to her, then in between her and the man, then shoving the man away and shouting things that he didn't remember later. They tousled briefly, resulting in a bloody nose on his face and a black eye on the old man. The man stormed away, screaming and cursing at them.

When he turned, he didn't even have time to react before she slapped him sharply across the face. It left him momentarily dumb; he wasn't sure whether to pinch his nose to stop the bleeding or hold his smarting cheek. Then she was shouting at him.

"I don't want your help! I'm not some sort of damsel in distress that needs rescuing from some bourgeois knight in shining armor!" She shoved him, though it was hardly strong.

Her lip was bleeding and was starting to swell from where the man hit her.

Ten minutes later, he was in the dugout, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Hey," a voice said behind him, startling him. He turned, and there she was – fat lip, messy dark hair, long, thin legs and a torso hidden by an oversized jersey. She held a plastic bag in her hand.

He just sniffed blood, trying to keep it from running down his face more, and stared at her. He was hardly forgiving; if she resented his interference, he wouldn't interfere. He had a bloody nose and probably a black eye (try explaining that one at work tomorrow), all because he was trying to help her. So as far as he was concerned, they had no reason, especially now, to interact at all. He wanted nothing from her.

"Sit down," she ordered. Her tone surprised him; it reminded him of how his mother or his teachers would talk to him as a child. He wondered where she picked it up. Then he sat.

She put the bag on the bench beside him, digging around inside. From it, she pulled gauze, an ice pack, hydrogen peroxide, and band-aids. Without a word, she began mopping up the blood on his face.

"I'm sorry I slapped you," she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the blood that was still gushing from his nose.

He shrugged.

"It was my dad. It wasn't the first time," she told him quietly. He wondered why she was telling him this; from the look on her face, she was wondering the same thing. Then, "I'm Eponine. Eponine Jondrette."

He regarded her for a moment, and she finally met his eyes. They were a beautiful, bright brown, flecked with gold, but were dark and angry from the memories that were undoubtedly cycling through her mind. He looked at her lips; dried blood had trickled onto her chin, though she hadn't seemed to notice.

"Enjolras," he said. "Gabriel Enjolras."

Eponine's lips twitched into a small smile, then she got back to work on cleaning him up.

When she was finished, she threw the first aid supplies into her backpack. "I'll buy you a beer," she offered, "as a thanks – and an apology."

He's not quite sure why he kissed her.

It was several months after the day he fought her father.

They were heading off to the park together. His league's season was over, but he and his friends still met each weekend for pickup games. She had wormed her way into his friend group, and they had invited her along, eager to teach her how to play baseball. In return, she was going to teach them a little bit about soccer.

She met him on the corner near his apartment – it was more convenient for her to cut through his neighborhood to reach the park, as she lived a few blocks away.

"We need to run to my place," she said when he found her, not bothering to greet him. "I would've gone alone, but my phone was dead and I didn't want you to think I was ditching you.

Though they lived relatively close together, there was a marked difference between his neighborhood and hers. His was more affluent – he was a lawyer, the only son in a wealthy family, and therefore, his apartment was large and well decorated and safe.

Eponine's apartment, however, was one room of a giant, sketchy-looking complex. She joked that this was where the meth-heads came to die.

He worried for her safety.

Inside, however, she had done her best to make the place comfortable. It was colorful, but tasteful – very bohemian, but it worked because it was so Eponine.

She had hung curtains to separate her small bed from the rest of the room, and disappeared behind them for a few moments.

When she reemerged, she beckoned him over. "Enj, these are my soccer trophies from high school. I was being scouted for college, being offered scholarships and even full rides, but then I blew out my knee."

He hadn't known. He knew she was good, but not that she could have started in college. Nor did he know that her knee had ruined her opportunity to get out of – well, out of this life. It broke his heart; she could have truly been something quite incredible. She was smart, she was driven and talented, but lacking the resources to rise out of the life she so despised. To have come so close, only to have an ill-timed physical issue rip her chances away – he couldn't even imagine.

"That sucks, Ep, I'm so sorry," he told her sincerely.

She smiled warmly, though he could see a touch of bitterness in her eyes. "Whatever," she shrugged, "I have all these crazy trophies for my trouble!"

And she did. There must have been more than 30 of all colors and sizes, from participation awards to tournament placements to MVP's.

"My collection would totally kick your collection's ass," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "I was given a partial scholarship to play in college. I wanted to go pro. I didn't have time for anything else, not even girls. My entire life revolved around baseball and school."

She looked at him. "What happened?"

He stared straight ahead at a trophy she had won her sophomore year of high school for most valuable player. "My priorities changed," was all he said. He could hear the hardness in his own voice; out of the corner of his eye, he saw her searching for something on his face before she turned back towards the trophies. He cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, reaching out and touching a medal, "all my trophies are at my parents' house."

"I like having mine home with me," was Eponine's soft reply.

He looked at her. There was a faraway look on her face, an absent smile on her lips. "They help me remember a time when I was happy." She seemed to be talking to herself now, and he wondered if she remembered he was there.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, all of a sudden, and he felt something building inside of him that was foreign and, if he had to admit it, a little frightening.

When she turned to him, a questioning look on her face and an inquiry forming on her lips, he kissed her, swallowing whatever it was she was about to say. She responded immediately against him, and he pulled her body flush against his instinctually when her lips parted against his.

He's not quite sure why he slept with her.

He had never been with a woman before.

And she was vulnerable; he couldn't shake the feeling that he had taken advantage of her.

Marius and his girlfriend, the perfect, blonde Cosette, had gotten engaged.

Eponine had showed up at his door, in tears and completely inconsolable. So he ordered pizza, and ran to the liquor store around the corner for a bottle of Jack.

Three hours later, she was straddling him on his couch and kissing him wildly, half the bottle abandoned on the table behind her.

The whole experience, as intoxicating and wonderful as it was, was like being with a hurricane. It was wet and strong and dangerous, but he loved every second of it.

When he woke the next morning, she was in his kitchen, dressed in one of his t-shirts, making breakfast.

She kissed him good morning.

He's not quite sure when he fell in love with her.

They were out all night.

It was a warm night, in the middle of spring, a summery breeze sweeping through her hair and toying with the hem of her dress as she skipped around him.

Eponine didn't want to go home, and had talked him into staying out with her all night and going down to the docks to watch the sunrise.

"I've never seen the city when it sleeps," she had said.

They weren't together, per se, but Marius was married and Eponine was putting him behind her and now whenever she saw Enjolras she kissed him. He didn't hate it.

They had sat on the docks, swinging their bare feet inches above the water.

She grabbed his hand, humming a song into the wind. She was being strange; it was that mix of happiness and sadness that he'd learned to associate with her. Like she's almost ready to be happy, almost ready to let go of her problems, but she just can't.

She took his hand as the pre-dawn sky turns purple.

She kissed his cheek and then his lips when it turns pink.

When it turned orange, its bright glow lights up her face.

When the sun broke free of the water, she laughed. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

And that was when he knew: he'd fallen for her.

He's not quite sure why she wouldn't let him save her.

Eponine was stubborn, and always refused his help. He frequently reminded her that it was his job to help people, that it was his calling, but she would just snap at him that "a calling is a thing for entitled bourgeois boys," and that those he was "called" to help did not always want it.

When her little brother died, hit by a car in the middle of the night, he was not sure she'd ever come back to him.

She pushed him away. Stopped seeing him, stopped meeting him for baseball or soccer, stopped coming to his games and stopped showing up to her own. She wouldn't even answer her calls. Nor would she talk to any of her other friends.

Musichetta, her soccer friend, and Joly were dating, and even Musichetta had not heard from her in weeks.

When he finally saw her again, her face was gaunt. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, and hadn't eaten in weeks. Her already thin frame clung to her bones, her cheeks were sunken in, her hair was dirty and unkempt, and her hollow eyes had dark circles.

He didn't know how to save her, but for god's sake he tried.

He's not quite sure why she left him.

It isn't fair – that's the only thought that's cycling through his mind right now.

He's been sitting in this chair for, well, he doesn't even know how long. His friends keep coming to check on him, but he barely hears them. They can't say anything helpful anyway. They don't know.

All he can think of is her, of those precious moments by her side, as he stares straight ahead.

Directly in front of him is her casket. And he can't take his eyes off it, off her lifeless body laying there for those attending the wake to gawk and cry over.

He can't cry, he can't eat, he can't feel. He briefly wonders if this was how it was for her when little Gavroche was killed, and if that was the straw that broke the camel's back in her life.

He wonders, much more extensively, why he couldn't save her. He was always reminding her that saving people was all he wanted to do. He just wanted to help.

Why hadn't he been able to help her?

It was a sunny afternoon. They were sitting on the stairs of her fire escape. She was under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not everyone wants to be saved, Enj," she told him. "Not everyone will let you."

"As long as you let me save you, that's fine," he replied.

She said nothing for a long while. "It might be too late for that," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

And it was. It was far too late.

She was gone.

The only woman he had ever loved, ever cared for, ever had time for, was dead.

This was a woman who had opened up an entire new world for him, and he would never see her again.

He's not sure what comes next; now that he's lived in this world of hers, he isn't sure if he can live without her.

When he's angry at her, angrier than he's ever been before, he curses her name, screaming at her ghost for leaving him behind, for ruining his life.

He hates her; she destroyed everything about him, everything he was, and left this empty shell behind. He was fine before - he didn't know what he was missing, and ignorance truly was bliss. He was settled in his life. But then she appeared in it, and turned it upside-down.

He tries to breathe.

Azlema, her younger sister, walks up to him.

She wraps herself around him, and he lets her, squeezing her tightly. She, of course, knew Eponine too (in a way that his friends didn't), and just as he lost the love of his life, she lost her older sister - and her baby brother. So she understands.

"She loved you, Enjolras," Azelma murmurs, her voice shaking with emotion and thick with the tears that spill from her eyes. "I know she never told you, but she told me. She loved you, and she would've wanted you to know."

He cries.

He's not quite sure how he picks up the pieces.

It's been forever, but it's also been no time at all.

His nights are cold and lonely, and his days are torture.

Grantaire has moved in with him, though perhaps that wasn't the best decision on the part of his friends, as the other man is so full of anger and sadness himself that all they do is spend their time drinking.

Combeferre seems to catch on, because then he comes to stay, too.

Suddenly, he's forced to eat the food Combeferre has cooked. He's forced to look at Grantaire's artwork and give his opinions, he's forced to go to work and do a good job again.

He's forced to look at her photographs every day (but that one he does to himself), too. In them, she seems happy. She's bright and beautiful and alive. God, she used to be so alive, even when she was miserable, even when she was depressed. She could be in the worst mood, but being around her was like being in the middle of a beautiful storm.

He misses that.

Eventually, Courfeyrac convinces him to come play a pickup game.

It feels good, being back on the diamond. The power of the ball as it flies from his hand, the feel of the wind in his face as he runs from plate to plate. He especially likes being at bat, because smacking that fucking ball into oblivion is suddenly the most therapeutic thing.

And then the game is over and his friends leave and he's slamming his stupid bat into the ground, raging in the middle of the field, screaming at her at the top of his lungs and undoubtedly causing quite the scene.

He collapses, and then someone is there – Jehan, perhaps? – speaking to him, trying to calm him.

But what does it is Eponine.

No, she's not there, of course, but he sees her team playing soccer on the next field. Or maybe it's a different team, he isn't sure if her friends play here anymore.

He looks up into the overcast sky, closing his eyes to the clouds, and can almost hear her laughter carried to him on the wind.

He goes home, pulls out the trophies he took from her apartment and those he took from his parents' house. He places them in pairs around the apartment, wherever they fit - his next to hers and hers next to his wherever he can find the room for them.

"They help me remember a time when I was happy," she had said that first time he kissed her.

And she was right.

There they were, once again – playing baseball, playing soccer together, just like when they had become friends. This time, however, their endless games were in his apartment. But looking at their trophies together was, for some stupid reason, extremely comforting. It made him feel like she was there, in these dumb objects she had been so proud of.

He sees her in them. They make him think of her. And he misses her, he does, but she would want him to be okay.

She would want him to keep on playing, because she wasn't able to.

And that's exactly what he's going to do.

Fin.

#enjonine #enjonine fanfic #enjonine fic #enjonine fanfiction #e/e #é/e #eponine x enjolras #enjolras x eponine

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nctloveclub · 5 years ago

Text

mamihlapinatapai

– pairing: mark lee x reader

– genre: angst!

– words: 2.25k

– a/n: its been a while since ive posted but i hope you like it :D i hope to get back into writing after putting it off for so long :(

(n.) a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither wants to begin

you and mark were best friends, but the two of you haven't known each other long

like usually best friends have known each other since their childhood but you and mark had met in your second year of high school !

it wasn't anything extraordinary just simple. he ended up coming to class late and he had picked the seat next to you.

it was strange at first because it was like ??? ummm who ??? my friend usually sits there ???? (but they were home sick that day oooooh)

so the next day mark sits in the same seat next to you and when you're friend walks in they give you a look and you just shrug

they give you a wink and just sit in the seat in front of you

then that's when mark actually starts talking to you

hes a little shy at first just introducing himself to you and you do the same

at lunch mark ends up finding you and sits across from you

not gonna lie the air is a little awkward but two of you take the lunch period to actually talk and get to know each other

you find out that you had actually went to the same middle school but just in different friend crowds

the conversation was just simple

that's a word that would describe yours' and mark's relationship: simple

he was a breath of fresh air

he was something new, someone who you got along with

over the course of the year, the two of you had actually gotten closer and mark had actually befriended your other friend

"sorry i took your seat...."

your friend just looks at him and laughs, "dude its fine it's just a seat. if anything im glad you helped my little y/n get out of their shell."

you send a playful glare at your friend's way and continue the conversation you had with mark

eventually, your third year of high school has begun and the both of you are extremely close, like no one can separate the two of you

youre sad when you find out mark and you only share the same lunch period, having the same classes but different periods

"it's alright, i'll see you at lunch." he smiles and you nod, mark walking you to your first period

you dread your first day, making small talk with the people around you but you don't mind, impatiently waiting till lunch starts

you and mark immediately meet up, looking for a place to sit in the crowded cafeteria

you sit in a somewhat secluded area, there are still tables surrounding you but it's mostly away from the crowd

the two of you catch up and talk about how your first day has been going

soon enough lunch ends and mark's walking you to your 6th period

the day comes to an end and mark is waiting for you at the front of school, waiting to walk you home

"you know you don't have to walk me, you literally live in the opposite direction." you say as the two of you begin your walk

"i know, i do it because i want to." he replies nonchalantly and for the first time you feel something in your stomach

you feel butterflies in your stomach when mark walks you to your doorstep and they intensify when he gives you a hug before leaving

you watch as mark walks in the direction of his home and cant but wonder what the hell you were feeling

the school year continues to go on and everyday feels like a routine

mark walks you to school and first period, the day goes on, you meet at lunch and he walks you home

but as everyday passes, you cant help but feel more butterflies creep in your stomach as you see mark or when he holds your hand

what you didnt know was that mark had felt the same way, he had started to feel nervous around you, that he couldn’t think straight around you, you made his heart race and his face heat up

he started to become more affectionate towards you, holding your hand more often and wrapping his arm around you casually and also occasionally giving you forehead kisses

mark was just the sweetest boy ever and you couldn't believe that he really was your best friend, he made you feel like you were in a movie, that you were a protagonist in a love novel

he made you feel like you were on clouds and that whenever you were with him you felt like home

it took time for you to fully realize that you had fallen in love with your best friend

mark had also started to pick up on the fact that you were constantly blushing around him and he made you nervous

he felt a weight lifted off his chest, that maybe you reciprocated the feelings he had for you* but as they say, all good things must come to an end eventually

mark had told you that he wanted to become an idol, that music was his passion and something he wanted to pursue

of course you were supportive of him, you wanted to give the whole world to him

you always gave him words of encouragement and praised him for his talent

"remember me when you're famous mark." you say to him one day

"come on y/n, i'll never forget you. besides who said im gonna be famous one day, what if i don't end up making it anywhere?"

your eyes gape at him. "'mark are you serious? of course you're gonna be famous. you're one if the most talented people i know. if anyone were to become famous it would be you, you deserve it. you've worked so hard to achieve your dreams and you're an amazing rapper.

dont ever undermine yourself mark. and if anything, i'll always be here for you. i'll always be here to support you"

mark almost starts crying at your words and he can see the look the in your eyes that meant you meant every word you said

he didn't know what he did in his past life to deserve you but he's glad that he was able to meet you that fateful day

so mark begins his own training, starting to write songs, practice singing and dancing to become an idol

he tells you at lunch one day that a kpop company was gonna be holding global auditions next week and that he's gonna try

you're obviously excited for him and tell him to not worry and that he's gonna make it, that the company would be an absolute fool to not recruit him

then next week comes and mark misses a day of because of auditions

you don't mind, sending him a quick message telling him good luck !!! you got this dude :D

_also you'll be fine stop worrying :_p

the next day mark is back at school and he's anxiously waiting for the company to contact him to see if he made it to the second round

you notice it and reassure him that he'll be fine

but he looks at you and you notice that there's also something else on his mind, you don't question him yet though. he doesn't seem in the right head space

"mark what's wrong?" you ask as mark walks you home

your hand is intertwined in his, and he’s looking down on the sidewalk,

he looks up at you, "what do you mean?"

"at lunch, you seemed pretty anxious about the audition, but something else seemed off about you."

"well yeah im nervous. i think im gonna make it though, the audition was fine." he tells you and your brows furrow

"then whats the problem?" you ask, your voice more quiet

"the company is based in korea. i mean you already knew that but still. if i make it to second and end up passing it, i'll be moving to korea to become an idol." mark explains and your heart stops for a bit

the realization has sunk in your head

all this time you've been encouraging mark and letting him live out his dream but you never realized that you were gonna end up losing him

you feel your eyes start to water and you look up at him, already looking back at you

"dont cry, please." he tells you softly, bringing you into a hug, "i dont want to lose you but i can't hold you back." you whisper into his chest

"but what about us?" he asks, his voice sad

that question was hung in the air, what was gonna happen to you and mark?

you had come to fact that you were in love with him but this was his dream

maybe you could be selfish once, to tell him to stay, to try and pursue a career here, at home

but that wouldn't be fair to mark, this was something he dreamed about, you wouldn't allow yourself be the reason he stayed home

"nothing is gonna happen to us, i'll still be here to support you, even if you're thousands of miles away, i'll always be here for you."

the rest of the walk to your house was quiet, mark having attached you to his side and he didnt seem to plan to let you go anytime soon

when you arrived at your house, mark held you into his arms and his eyes looked into yours

you noticed the gleam in them, full of sadness and longing

you felt your mind screaming at you, to make the first move, to show mark how much you love him before it's too late

but you couldn't bring yourself to do it, it'd be too selfish

mark felt the same emotional turmoil

he wanted to hold you in his arms and just spend the rest of his life with you

he could see the sadness in your eyes and he realized what he would truly be giving up to achieve his dreams

his mind wanted him to just confess his love there, to just cup your cheeks and press his lips to yours

as the two of you gazed into each others eyes, you both came to the realization that you were both feeling the same thing

but the two of you couldn't bring yourself to do it, and with that you separated

mark had finally let go of your waist and you both moved away

you walk into your home and mark went to his

the next day mark tells you he made it to the second round and you give him a smile

a smile mark can see right through

he knows how heartbroken you feel and the pain you feel

he just wished he wasnt the cause of it

the school year is coming to an end and you'll become a senior

mark had ended up passing the second audition and he and his family would be moving to korea

the day he told you, you broke into tears

tears of joy and happiness but also of pain

you were beyond ecstatic for him, he was finally gonna achieve his dream of becoming an idol

but he was leaving, and you wouldnt know if he was ever gonna come back

the school year ends and mark tells you that he'll be moving to korea next week, where he'll be training and starting his senior year

you dread the next couple days

you and mark are inseparable, spending all the time you can before he goes

time goes by quick, one minute the two of you are having a movie night in your living room and the next you're saying your goodbyes at the airport

"i'm sorry y/n" mark tells you

"for what"

"for leaving."

"hey don't be sorry for that, you're pursuing something thats gonna make you happy and that's all i ever want from you, for you to be happy." you say, tears falling from your eyes

mark starts to cry at your words, his thumbs moving to wipe away your tears, which actually make them fall harder

he brings you into a hug and you look up at him and stare into his eyes one last time

the eyes that always made you happy, the eyes that always looked at you in adoration,

the eyes that always made you feel at home

the two can feel the longing the other holds, but you both can't bring yourself to do it

as the two of you continue to hug until mark has to leave you whisper the three words you've yearned to tell him

"i love you." you say, looking right into his eyes

"i love you too."

you hear mark's parents call for him, telling him that they have to board soon

the two of you finally separate and you're full on crying

mark begins to walk off before turning around and giving you one last smile, one you return through your tears

you watch as mark board and you wait and watch as his plane leaves, officially separating you from the boy you love

mark looks out the plane window, watching as the airport begins to get smaller and smaller

he lets out a sigh and feels his heart ache

you take out your phone and text mark, knowing he'll see it when he lands

i love you, dont forget me when you're famous ;)

"oh how could i ever forget you"

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inspired-by-the-music · 5 years ago

Text

Ardently

Part One: First Impressions

Pairings: Kyungsoo x OC, Jongin x OC

Genre: enemies to lovers

Word Count: 2k

taglist: @jineunwootrash

Note: (oof a long note, here we go) Here is the first chapter from a Kyungsoo fic I will be working on. This is based on Pride and Prejudice; it is set in present-day, in the K-Pop industry. I’m experimenting with writing in first person, and the main character is named Maisa. There will be a few original characters in this story, and I am very excited because this is the first time I will write a full-length fic for this blog that is not mostly a Social Media AU. I will likely not post the rest until I have finished the story just so I will have plenty of time to develop and edit my ideas without publishing plot holes, but I was just too excited about this idea to keep it all to myself. I realllllllly hope you like it! -Ash

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Jongin. The many years we spent together as children didn’t prepare us to be separated for months at a time because of his busy schedules as an official S.M. Entertainment idol. Although he never failed to brighten my day through texts, phone calls, and FaceTimes, nothing compared to seeing his smile in person.

Will Taemin be somewhere in this building? I wondered as I approached the S.M. building where Jongin asked to meet. Surely he’s here somewhere. SHINee has just finished a tour in Japan.

I squirmed at the thought of Taemin, not because we had some kind of disagreement or because I was as starstruck as almost every other person in the world, but because I had been avoiding him for what now seems like a very childish reason.

Taemin had ventured far beyond the poor town we— he, Jongin, and I— had been raised in, and his fame grew daily. I wasn’t jealous— not maliciously, anyway— but I felt that he and I were living in very different worlds, and I worried that if I spent too much time with him, he would realize it too.

This fear would have threatened my friendship with Jongin, too, if he wasn’t so determined to honor our childhood promise to be best friends forever.

However, when he smiled warmly as he stepped through the glass doors and drew me into a tight embrace, my fear was quickly quelled and replaced with confidence that Jongin would remind grounded at my side no matter how high his talents dared him to soar. And I couldn’t decide if that made me feel relieved or guilty.

“So where’s this little restaurant you’re so obsessed with?” I asked as he released me.

Pointing across the street, he replied, “Just there.” And when I tried to follow his directions he grabbed me by arm and said, “But first— I’ve convinced one of the executives to meet with you!”

"What?" My jaw dropped.

How had I not seen through the lunch invitation that thinly veiled Jongin's thousandth attempt to coerce one of his bosses into giving me a job? I had likely forgotten about that goal of his since his efforts never succeded past a few uncomfortable phone calls where I stubbornly maintained that, "I don't want to owe you or Taemin." But now that he dragged me into the building, a conversation with some professional executive seemed inevitable.

"Ew!" Jongin shrieked and dropped my hand as soon as the elevator doors closed behind him and effectively trapped me into his plan. "Your palms are really sweaty." While wiping his hands off on his jeans, he advised, "You should see a doctor about that."

I argued," Clammy palms are a natural response to sudden extreme stress!" Still, I blushed at his observation and tried to pass my colored cheeks off as a symptom of annoyance by asking, "How could you trick me into some kind of job interview? I was promised sushi!"

Jongin laughed, probably mistaking my authentic blossoming panic for theatrics. "Don't worry, Mai, you'll still get your sushi-- you'll just get a chance at your dream job first."

His natural optimism should have been some sort of comfort. Instead, I crossed my arms, pressed my back against the cold steel elevator door, and mumbled, "Don't be ridiculous, Jongin, nobody would hire some random girl off the streets to write songs-- especially not one of the big three."

Ever determined to disagree, Jongin grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and reminded me, "You're not just some random girl-- you're my best friend, you're insanely talented, and on the off chance that Mr. Lee doesn't see that, I'll get you a meeting with everyone in this industry until you're hired."

Maybe it wasn't the best pep talk in history, but I swear that Jongin's smile could inspire anyone to do just about anything, so I shamelessly followed him out of the elevator, holding my head high. I only faltered when he stopped abruptly and said, "Wait here. Let me make sure Mr. Lee isn't busy."

Instantly, my confidence evaporated. The hall was eerily silent except for the clicking of keyboards that escaped from the few open office doors, so I quietly hissed, "You mean you don't even have an appointment?"

Jongin held a finger up to his lips. Perhaps sensing my screaming instinct to run, he repeated, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He tapped his knuckles against the sleek black door, just under a gold sign that read Soo-man Lee: CEO, and he winked at me before entering the room at Mr. Lee's beckoning.

Suffice it to say that I wasted no time racing back to the elevator once Jongin was out of sight. It wasn't that I wanted to disappoint Jongin or seem ungrateful of his efforts, but meeting the CEO of S.M. Entertainment seemed like a giant leap rather than the first step toward my dream of composing music. The fact that I was unprepared and uninvited made the whole situation feel like a nightmare-- not at all like a dream come true.

As my tennis shoes slapped against the marble floor, I decided that I could easily beg for Jongin's forgiveness, and he would kindly grant it, but I could never reclaim my pride after being rejected by S.M. I could never recover from the crushing determination that I wouldn't get to achieve my dreams alongside Jongin and Taemin. I preferred to keep telling myself "someday, someday soon," because then I would never have to face the absolute of "never--you aren't good enough."

When did I become so paralyzed by fear? My thoughts stunned me. I considered myself bold, unafraid to speak my mind, in all manners except the pursuit of my deepest dream. What good is it to be brave except when it really counts?

As I struggled to no avail to find an answer within myself, somebody rounded the corner at a sprint and collided with me. With what felt like a thundering crash, I fell onto my back. My string of curses complimented that of whoever ran into me, but I was initially too dazed to glance at him.

When I finally sat upright and glared at him, prepared to lecture him for failing to offer so much as an apology, I noticed that he was too busy gathering his scattered papers to even realize that he knocked me down. I was going to ask where he was going that was so important-- or if he had ever heard of a paperclip-- but I was shocked into silence when he looked at me over his glasses with eyes blown wide.

I never imagined that I would meet Do Kyungsoo while running away from a job interview with the CEO of S.M. Entertainment that was set up by my best friend to help me achieve my dream. Actually, I never imagined that I would meet him at all, and I certainly never dreamed that he could be so rude as to ask, "Who are you looking at?"

Overwhelmed by an unprecedented blend of awe, embarrassment, and blind rage, I stuttered around an answer until he dismissively waved my babbling away. "Forget it. I don't have time for this."

Once I was away from him, I knew, I would think of a thousand ways to put him in his place. I wondered, what good is wit when it isn't quick when it counts? Quickly, I resolved to scramble to my feet and out of the building before matters could worsen.

"Hey wait."

I never would have admitted that my heart swelled with the rise of his voice because I assumed that he would apologize (for running into me and then for being so rude) and that I might be lucky enough to have one of those romantic first meetings that I learned about from Jane Austen and K-Dramas alike.

But when I turned to face him, he stood tall, papers in hand, pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and ordered, "Bring me coffee and a cinnamon bagel from the kitchen; I'll be in Mr. Kim's office."

Had he not been staring right at me, I would have thought he was talking to somebody else.

Only when he turned around, started down the hallway, and freed me from his oppressive gaze did I find my voice. "No, I won't get your breakfast. First of all, it's well past noon, and second, I don't know where that is!"

Kyungsoo rounded again, his mouth slightly agape as if he assumed I was mute. His eyebrows knit together as he asked, "You don't know where the kitchen is? Or where Mr. Kim's office is?"

"Neither."

Unwilling to hear the explanation that this was my first (and likely only) time in the S.M. Building, and I wasn't here of my own choice, and-- above all-- I was not his servant, Kyungsoo demanded, "What good are you then? Does the help around here know anything these days?"

And just as I stormed toward him, dangerously close to succumbing to my temper's urging, Jongin appeared at Kyungsoo's side, locked eyes with me, and cheered, "There you are!"

Jongin would have had to be blind to miss how Kyungsoo and I glared at each other, each silently daring the other to say just one more word to justify our impending outburst. In what must have been an attempt to lighten the mood, he laughed, "I should have known you would run off to catch a glimpse of your bias."

I opened my mouth to rob Kyungsoo of the flattery by telling Jongin that I officially decided to change biases, but I was interrupted by Kyungsoo asking, "So you know this girl?"

Jongin joyfully thew an arm around my shoulders and, contrasting greatly against Kyungsoo's disgusted, disbelieving tone, cheerfully declared, "Oh yeah! Maisa has been my best friend forever. And you should get used to her, D.O., because she's gonna be the best songwriter in S.M.'s history!"

Jongin's boasting about me was never quite as humiliating as right then, when Kyungsoo simply rose his eyebrows and questioned, "She will?"

Don't misunderstand-- I wasn't offended because I was oozing with self-confidence or because I was so convinced that I was destined to be some composing legend. In fact, I had absolutely no confidence that Jongin's last-minute surprise interview would work to my advantage in the slightest. Had he not offended me from the moment our eyes met, I would have agreed that Kyungsoo's skepticism was supported by all rationality, but given the events of those past five minutes, I literally bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him for Jongin's sake.

Without missing a beat, Jongin answered, "Definitely," and steered me back to Mr. Lee's office before I could bite through my tongue or say anything regrettable.

Once I regained control of my thoughts, I started, "What a-- a--"

But I struggled to fathom an insult becoming of Kyungsoo. Finally, I settled on screaming, "Douche canoe!" with no concern for whether Kyungsoo, Soo-man Lee, or anyone else in the building heard.

Jongin must have expected a tantrum, because he merely blinked and warned, "You shouldn't let Kyungsoo under your skin." He leaned against the wall beside the CEO's door, tried to nudge me out of my frustration, and claimed, "Seriously, Mai, he's just not one for first impressions--"

Although unamused, I laughed. "That has to be the biggest understatement ever. He isn't even half as pleasant as the most disagreeable character he's ever played--"

"Maisa!" Jongin interrupted. I only closed my mouth when I noticed his protruding pout. "We'll talk about Kyungsoo later because I know you're not gonna get over it any time soon. But for now, get in there and convince Mr. Lee that you belong in an office brainstorming lyrics, not locked away in the kitchens!"

I barely managed to quizzically repeat, "The kitchens?" before being shoved into the office.

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liskantope · 3 years ago

Text

I think this discussion of what stigmatization means is very interesting all on its own, separate from the topic of FdB, and you've made some points that are making me think about it more carefully and fully. But I'm still not quite on the same page as you here.

[Warning: fairly long-winded, with darker discussion of bigotry than my usual, below the cut. This is unwieldy and I'm not sure it argues anything coherently, but I'm tired and keeping it and probably won't contribute to this discussion further after this.]

This may sound like I'm moving the goalposts or something, but I never meant to say that stigma is the view of a certain trait as being inherently negative with absolutely no concrete (supposed) justification. Basically pretty much nobody considers it okay to dislike some other type of person for absolutely no rational reason. In the same vein, hatred is looked down upon when it appears gratuitous (see "Fear Trumps Hate", one of my favorite Tumblr posts of all time).

So what do people generally do? They come up with rationalizations, at least very vague rationalizations, about why they don't like people in group X, or think in principle they're not actually bad but really kinda don't want them around, or whatever. A very extreme version of this is in the KKK article you linked to, which is transparent garbage: "Hate? Oh no, not us! All we have is love in our hearts, love for our people, and the only problem with those other people is that they're big and scary and powerful and threatening us!" Hatred is thickly dripping from every paragraph, but nobody makes themself look good by acknowledging that they're driven by hatred, so these KKK people make a pretense of being all about love instead. They may claim to be opposed to the "direct disvaluing" version of stigmatization, but they do not come across as remotely sincere.

(As for your other link from Stormfront, I'm not sure what you were trying to show with it? I wasn't up for looking past the first page, but it's full of replies like "[Jews] do both disgust and fascinate me at the same time"; "I didnt really hate [the one Jew I've met in my whole life], he was just very trashy and got on everyones nerves" from people who deny they hate Jews. That's still pretty much an "ew yuck" reaction if I ever saw one, and the epitome of stigmatization.)

(Also, I'm not sure that the worst manifestations of bigotry necessarily have to fall under the specific criteria of "stigmatization"? At least it never occurred to me that they had to. I don't know.)

So yeah, if you're encountering people who insist that stigmatization means disliking some trait for no purported reason whatsoever, then yeah, I agree with you that those people aren't really thinking through the behavior properly.

But sometimes the "purported reason" is so incredibly vague that people don't bother trying to put it into words, not even when justifying it to themselves. We've seen a lot of this in our lifetimes with various forms of homophobia and transphobia/transvestism. The legality of same-sex marriage devalues our opposite-sex marriage somehow; heck, having a gay person play a role in our straight wedding tarnishes it somehow; a man wearing women's clothing is just kind of, eww whatever it's a free country but I don't want to see that and don't want my kids exposed to it. The most recent time I ever talked face to face with someone who opposed gay rights, he said straight-up, "At the bottom of it, I really just think that what they do is gross and feel like it's not okay with me." This is really the first kind of thing I think of when the concept of stigmatization comes up.

Surely if you press these people hard enough for justifications, they'll come up with something: gay and gender-nonconforming people are pedophiles, anal sex is dangerous to health, (from the homophobe I met, who was unsurprisingly a conservative Christian) my gut reaction to finding gay behavior gross is that it goes against how God intended us to behave, etc. But these are, to most of our views, objectively flimsy excuses, probably ultimately invented as rationalizations for completely irrational "eww yuck" gut responses to things that feel too different, which is pretty "direct disvaluing".

Someone could disagree and say the justifications are sound, and then I guess they'd disagree with me that these are examples of stigmatization. Fine. So we can't all agree on what is stigmatization and what isn't in every case through a definition that doesn't depend on our assessments of issues surrounding the case. What we can objectively agree on, however, is whether someone with trait X has actually done something bad in a context viewable and acknowledged by everyone. Your three bulletpointed examples all fail that test, but the FdB situation passes it.

People have these reactions left and right with regard to mental illness and neurodivergence as well, of course (your point that their actual behaviors must be part of the issue because otherwise how would others even know they're disabled is an excellent one). And the line between stigmatization and actually justified reasons to shun certain characteristics from one's life/space/etc. can get blurry (I've struggled with it myself in certain contexts), but I think we can agree that shunning someone because of hand-flapping or getting unusually fixated on things or having an atypical speaking voice or whatever firmly falls into the camp of "flimsy justification" which most likely is covering up a general "eww yuck" reaction to something that feels unpleasantly different from what one is used to. A type of stigmatization that comes closer to that line is something like "I don't want person with mental illness/disorder X as my roommate / in my workspace... because [vague reasons that may not quite hold up]". But none of these are anywhere close to "I don't want to hire this person because they have a proved history of harrassing, stalking, making genuine death threats, and publicly making deliberately false rape allegations" which seems not even in the same ballpark.

Again, my assumption of how FdB interprets complaints about stigmatization is that they are about someone getting passed over professionally, socially, etc. for having a mental illness/disorder based on a either a vague "eww yuck" gut reaction or a sort of prejudice -- "people with X are more likely to do A and/or B, and that's dangerous" -- rather than getting passed over for things they actually did (possibly not even understood to be connected to a mental illness). Now I'm not saying that hiring searches were right to not allow FdB a job under the circumstances: perhaps they should have researched his psychosis better, come to understand it, and had faith in him now that he was medicated. If your application of "stigmatization" here is to the fact that FdB's would-be employers didn't bother to be understanding or well-researched enough about his psychosis or something along those lines, connected to the fact that mental illnesses are understood too little in general or something, then I can potentially agree that stigmatization almost forced him into unemployment I suppose.

But I guess my thesis is this: stigmatization indeed comes with supposed justifications, but those justifications can be (and often are) as weak as "my gut tells me it doesn't feel right to be too close to someone with X because it's kind of eww" or speculative conspiracy theory -type nonsense, and there's a very long way from that to wanting to avoid a very bad thing that everyone agrees is very bad and everyone agrees is something the person has actually already done. And I'm really doubtful that the latter can rightly be called stigmatization.

It's interesting to see Freddie deBoer and Scott Alexander's recent interactions in the discourse on severe mental disorders. It feels like somewhat of a reverse of their temperaments on some other issues in the realm of feminism: Scott showed signs of pretty serious trauma around early-to-mid-2010's pop feminism and criticisms of nerd culture and had trouble talking about it in an evenhanded way, while Freddie (as far as I can recall) was much calmer on these topics; now Freddie clearly and for very obvious reasons has severe trauma around the topic of psychotic disorders and has trouble talking about it in an evenhanded way, while Scott is playing the role of calmly steelmanning each side.

Which is not to say that I didn't have pretty strong sympathies with Scott's reaction to mid-2010's feminist rhetoric or don't feel very sympathetic to Freddie's reaction to the movement towards anti-medication normalization of psychosis. But both are cases of someone stating their case in excessively strong language, in an absolutist way which doesn't sufficiently consider the spectrum of experiences of similar people on the issue that are different from their own. (In Freddie's case, statements like, "Stigma isn't even in the top 50 problems I've had to deal with because of my disorder" may be true when applied to himself, but I'm pretty sure there are hordes of people with serious but somewhat less severe psychotic disorders for whom stigma is somewhere in like the top 3 problems it's brought into their lives -- not the only or primary reason their psychosis is bad, but a pretty serious consequence for them.)

#ku klux klan #anti-semitism cw #homophobia cw #transphobia cw

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justagayguysworld-blog · 6 years ago

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Not sure what you will think of this one, but my mind inhabits the most unusual of places.

It was the last beer and we'd shared it on the way to town for another twelve-pack. I barely knew Antonio. He'd only been there a couple of weeks, but it was the damnedest thing I'd ever seen. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, could talk to a horse the way he did. I thought it was a fluke the first time. Then he did it again and I knew it couldn't be natural.

We had a contract with the state for wild mustang management. It wasn't the easiest job in the world, but I liked the outdoors and it beat hell out of watching my old man slap his third or fourth wife around. Maybe Sheila was the fifth; I'd stopped counting or giving much of a shit by that point. For my purposes at nineteen, it was a godsend they'd hired me and paid my bus fare to Utah. We rounded them up, checked them for diseases, tagged them, sold off the limit, gave them their shots and then trucked them back to the desert.

I'd been at the ranch for maybe three months when he came up one night seemingly outta nowhere and sat next to me at the fire. I greeted him in what little Spanish I knew. "Save it, dude. I speak English." And that was that.

One of the stallions was raising bloody hell in the pen and stirring up the other horses. I stood up to see if I could go quiet him down. Antonio braced a hand on my knee and said as he was standing, "Can I borrow that? Thanks." He took the beer out of my hand, turned it up and walked over to the corral with it in his hand. Sitting the bottle on the post, he hopped the fence, picked the bottle up and walked straight over to the hellraiser.

Just walked inside like he owned the place. He was fixing to get trampled to death near as I could tell, when he grabbed that bad boy by his mane and said something. The horse shook its head side to side. Antonio jerked harder on a handful of hair, the horse quieted down and lowered its head. Then the crazy fuck turned up that bottle, and I swear to God, I saw a mustang down the rest of my beer.

Tossing the bottle over, he walked back to the fence and hopped it again like nothing had happened. Picking up the empty he came back to the campfire and said, "Sorry about that. Can I get you another?"

Stunned, I asked, "What the fuck was that about?"

"Horses can smell fear. And some of them like beer." He walked away leaving me gape-jawed and went to the bunkhouse for another round. When he came back with our longnecks, he twisted the lid off one with his forefinger and thumb. I'd never seen anyone do that either.

Bottle in hand, I asked, "Where you from?"

"Can't say exactly. I tend to move around a lot. Guess you could call me a restless spirit." Bending down, he placed the same hand on my knee again to sit like an old man trying to find his bearings and steady himself. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but the chill of his touch radiated through my jeans to my kneecap.

The hand was just as icy when he extended it. "Antonio. What's your name, cowboy?"

"Jason. Jason Sparks. But most people just call me Rufus or asshole. Seems I'm the low man on the totem pole around here."

He laughed and said, "Not anymore. I just blew into town. I'll be working the night shift."

"Night shift? I wasn't aware we had one."

"Yeah, I'm something of a specialist. These positions can be hard to fill. Not everybody can handle an alcoholic horse with bad dreams."

I literally fell off the log laughing. Struggling to get up, Antonio grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me back to an upright position. Without any real effort on my part, I found my ass firmly planted on the log again. If he was superman, I didn't see where he could be hiding the muscles. We were about the same size and weight from what I could tell. He chuckled and mumbled something about horses not being the only alcoholics in those parts.

"I'll drink to that. Let me get us one more beer and then I guess I'll turn in for the night. Where are you bunking?"

"Next to you if there's room still available at the inn. Larry said to grab any empty bed I could find. And yours kind of looked like a mess when I was stowing my gear. But at least it didn't smell like shit."

Stopping to take a piss I wondered how he knew which bed was mine, but in the quest for brewskis I'd forgotten the question by the time I returned. As if reading the mind I was in the process of losing, he stated very matter-of-factly, "You don't smell like a cowboy or a horse with a drinking problem."

Not knowing exactly how to or if I should reply, I thought a moment and said, "Generally speaking, I don't go around smelling cowboys or their sheets, and I damned sure ain't smelling a horse's breath to see if they've been drinking."

He must've sensed my unease. Clinking his bottle against mine, he offered, "Sorry, I have a really weird nose. It smells the strangest damned things. Guess that's why I'm good with the horses. I smell what they smell."

"Ain't nothing wrong with your nose, Antonio," I blurted out. "You have a real nice nose. Most of these ugly old bastards have had their's broken in so many bar fights, I don't really want to think about it, much less how they smell."

Bumping his shoulder against mine, he clinked his nearly empty bottle to mine and said, "Yeah, I'll take loving over fighting any time I can. Probably why I get along with the horses and avoid divorces.

We had minimal contact after that. Other than rolling over or the occasional fart, I didn't hear much out of him for the next two weeks. Except in my dreams if I'm going to be perfectly damned honest about this. And generally speaking, I didn't have much of a habit dreaming about other men, at least not in that way. But there he was, more than once, pretty damned specifically. If I'd been anyone else, it would've been hard to ignore. Only I'd learned to master any direct concern for my actual feelings, and dick management had never been an issue for me personally.

The crew I was working was out on range management. I'd barely been back to the place long enough to sleep, much less for fireside chitchat. Then Saturday night came, we were going to take a couple days off and there he was. Just like in my damned dreams. I have no reason to lie. It was disconcerting when I saw him sprawled out there next to the fire. Not a care in the world, acting as if he'd grown up right out of the ground on that very spot, he smiled.

Looking me directly in the eye as if he hadn't invaded my dreams, he said casually as a cousin, "Hey Jason Sparks, if you're going to the house, could you grab me another cold one?" It had been a particularly hard week, I was bone-ass tired and his nose still wasn't broken in six different places. Two beers later we were left alone with a raging fire and the feelings I was experiencing that matched that blaze. I really wanted to kick his ass. Antonio had seriously fucked with my head, and he didn't seem to know or at least care.

He got up for the third round. It wasn't my knee he touched that sent icy shivers up my spine this time. It was my thigh. About three inches below the part that separates the men from the boys. Close enough for discomfort, I met his glaze and that fire was dancing in his eyes. His nose still wasn't broken, but the quiet smirk on his face made me seriously think about rearranging it.

Fucker scratched my head as he walked away like I was some kind of damned puppy in love. Brought back another round and said, "These are the last ones, Jason Sparks. Let's polish them off and make a run into town. I'm still thirsty. If you'll drive, I'll buy."

That was the night and I guess the moment that changed or ended my life. Something deep inside me could hear it slowly rumbling. I'd seen it in those dreams. I simply didn't have the power to say no or the least of will to fight him. And we weren't struggling. I guess that was what's so odd about it. Everything in my body and soul knew it was happening, even if my conscious mind was slow in catching up. I wanted him. I'd be the worst kind of liar if I said I didn't. And I knew he knew it.

He took my hand and pulled me up off the ground. I could've just as easily staggered to my feet of my own accord. But he wanted that ice running through my veins clashing with my toasted toes inside those boots. And I felt it. Felt it thoroughly as we climbed in the truck and started the motor. Only once did he touch my body on the way to the store. It was completely casual and anything but innocent as the shivers raced up and down my spine.

He went in and came out. I felt very strange. Almost in an out-of-body floating feeling I drove away into the darkness of the rural night. I still remember. It was as vivid, quiet and unstoppable as a freight train bearing down on the family sedan stalled on the side of the tracks.

"Pull over." I could've kept driving, but the truth was that I'd pulled over two weeks before. "I said pull over, Jason Sparks." He didn't have to ask again. And the truth, as he very well knew, is that I'd been wanting to pull over my whole life. The cab of the truck was full of echoes and whispers as I floated above my body while it and he crawled into the back seat. Voices were everywhere, the engine was running and for the first time in my life I didn't give a damn.

I thought in some delirious way I was about to kiss a boy, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. My feelings, those secreted desires weren't important. We weren't boys. I'd become a man without realizing or acknowledging it, and that brief period of my life was about to end abruptly.

It was brutal. How could I possibly forget when he folded down the lambswool collar of my jacket and sunk his teeth into my flesh? I could've fought him off, but I'd already struggled my whole life to be something different than what I was. Antonio was reconciling my conflicts, meeting my innermost longings and he'd bought the beer.

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littlealeta · 3 years ago

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It seems like toward the end of season 5, Morty seems to do a lot of dumb shit to keep family close. I haven't seen the Voltron episode but I remember reading somewhere on this site about someone complaining about Morty doing something dumb to keep his family close but I don't remember what it was. But that season 5 finale... damn bruh, I know that family is one of the most important things in life but destroying your grandpa's garage? Telling him to eat shit? Befriending toxic people? Aging yourself up, stalking and emotionally manipulating your abusive grandpa? Murdering people in a mental hospital and apocalyptic world? All because your dad and grandpa decided to move out? You realize that Rick wasn't any better when he drunk shit his bed, tried to kill your heroes and crushed your Netflix dreams and you that made you feel bad. Think about how Rick feels that you are so determined to regain a relationship that was hurting both you and Rick physically and mentally while Rick is trying to find some healing. Like come on man it's not the end of the world you can't be with your dad and grandpa every waking minute. You can still visit them and those two did what is best for them and you. You are being so ungrateful because you decided to treat Rick like total shit just because he wanted to provide a better life for you. And destroyed yourself in the process doing this. And now you got the relationship back and plus more abuse and more dangerous and traumatic adventures to make yourself even worse of a person than you already are because you don't care about anyone but your damn self

What makes this even weirder is that Rick is a somewhat estranged family member because he's never met Rick until he was like 14. Rick also acted extremely clingy to Morty because he was immature. Morty was also an immature baby for having this much separation anxiety over Rick not being in his life 24/7 even if he could still visit Rick with the portal gun and I'm sure Rick still can.

And I seen a clip of Morty crying just because Beth said she wanted to turn her back on him. Why would he be crying over that? From what I heard about that Voltron episode, it's about the family teaming up with Rick and Morty has spent the episode refusing to be on their side so why would he be crying over this?

Therapists would likely tell Rick and Morty to cut off their abusive relationship which is why the show doesn't want to go that direction even though it needs to.

They stated Morty was 14 in season 5 and 1. Although there's a memory where Rick came to his 13th birthday so Morty could've been almost 14 at the very beginning of the series.

I'm going to repeat myself in my last post you replied to regarding how to make antiheroes interesting because I doubt you read it since I edited it in late. But to make morally gray characters interesting, you have to give them reasons as to why they act the way they do.

Shadow the Hedgehog, is a more morally gray character who's misanthropic and driven by revenge but it's to avenge people who killed his best friend. And he ends the story sacrificing himself for humanity. Or take the narrator from There is No game who is at first hostile to the player but we realize it's because he wanted to protect the player from unleashing a glitch out to the world. Spike Spiegel is a character who's misanthropic and does amoral things but he's also a dirt poor guy who is trying to survive and is also driven by revenge from others who are trying to hurt him and who stole his girlfriend. And he does eventually take a liking to the people he initially acted cold with granted they aren't hurting him too. Spike can be annoying with his misanthropy but he's also like Rick in a way in that he's been hurt by so many and lost the people he's loved so many times that he's trying to protect himself from being hurt again. And unlike Rick, he doesn't go out of his way to aggressively hurt those people unless they hurt him. And those are also some of my favorite antiheroes and they're all better than Rick mind you.

The Rick and Morty characters often do terrible shit for entirely selfish and zero reason even when they know it's wrong and experience little to no growth throughout the series. Sometimes they repeat the same mistakes and constantly make more and more mistakes with no remorse or self-reflection. Rick has several moments of self-reflection and he does try to improve but he really didn't improve that much because he went back to Morty, the guy he's co-dependent and abusive towards. The Rick and Morty characters aren't trying to survive and they're not trying to avenge anyone. They're just selfish selfish people who put themselves first and god forbid any rational person tries to stop them.

say what you will about how morty was characterized in season 5

but that scene in the episode when we meet two crows where morty cuts off his own hand and then cauterized the limb with his jetpack was one of the coolest thing he's ever done and I think that's great character development and personally I cannot wait to see him go more feral

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