#living in spite and hope is something i've done for forever

[noonslullabies]

The heaviness in my chest isn't for me - I lost that ability a long time ago, but for everyone else.

I've had surgery to remove tumors and endometriosis lesions in my lower abdomen in late September.

At least now, I can help.

Its not over.

It'll never be over.

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Talks of domestic violence, talks of trauma, talks of toxic relationships and infidelity, survivors guilt, victims guilt, manipulation, family issues, smut, creampie, fluff (lol).

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I've had some intense writers block and didn't quite know how to finish this chapter haha, so hopefully I did it some justice finally. Enjoy <3

Chapter 9: Eye of the storm 

You didn’t know what to expect after your argument turned ‘talk’, if you could call it that, with Aemond the night before. Nor did you know how to react when you woke that morning and saw, much to your dismay, that the kitchen was empty.

There was no steaming tea waiting for you like there had been usually, nor was there the presence of your brooding roommate. It didn’t help that when you ventured to the kitchen expecting to see your mug and your tea perfectly made for you, that it was not there, and your heart felt a twinge of pain. 

You had to reason with yourself that he needed space. Time. And that perhaps he had taken you up on your encouragement to think about his actions before he went to sleep. And if you were really lucky, which you hoped you were with some bitter spite, he may have even stayed awake all evening, staring up at the ceiling the entire night and was now having to catch up on the sleep he hadn’t got. 

But that wasn’t the case. 

Because Aemond’s door was wide open, and when you opened the dishwasher to check, there you saw a singular mug inside, the tiniest of coffee drips sliding out of the mug and over the rack. 

Aemond was awake. 

Aemond wasn’t home. 

And Aemond had made himself coffee, and not you.

But you questioned yourself if you would have made tea for someone after an argument. Then you remembered, that yes, you had. And yes, you would again.

But Aemond wasn't you.

Had you pushed him too far?

Was bringing up his childhood something you shouldn’t have done?

These thoughts tumbled through your mind as you made your tea and readied yourself for the work day.

The morning went by slowly. When you were ready, you left for work and spent the entire day biting at your lips and fingernails in anxiety at the thought of when you would come home to the nightmare that you had a hand in creating. 

Thankfully for you, Larys was off sick, or off site, or whatever Jasper had told you; you had barely been listening. Barely even been present as you skimmed through your emails and went through the motions of your tasks mindlessly, mind on one thing and one thing only.

Him.

When you got home the apartment was empty which you had expected. It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt though. 

Perhaps he went to go stay with one of his friends? 

Or maybe he was out on one of his many jogs? Or doing whatever else he did during the day that you were not privy to. 

So you settled for your made up alibis, and slid into the kitchen, playing some soft music, though just soft enough in the hopes of being able to hear him come home, and began to cook your dinner.

But by the time you had cooked, and eaten, and bathed, and crawled into bed, it was nearing midnight and still Aemond had not come home. 

You laid in your bed, and stared up at the roof for what felt like forever, looking at the ceiling medallion, trying to ease your mind and not have thoughts of the illusive man that was Aemond running amuck in your mind. But no matter what you did, no matter how many videos you watched on your phone, or memes you cracked a smile at, you still could not find rest. 

Sighing loudly, you checked the time.

3am. 

Fuck.

Thinking that a cup of tea might help you to settle, you threw back your sheets and climbed out of bed, leaving your phone on charge as you moved blindly through your room in the dark, and out to the kitchen. 

The lights were off in the apartment, and only the softest of orange glows from an outdoor street lamp came through the bathroom window. The rest of the apartment was bathed in black, barest hints of moonlight streaming in through the kitchen. 

Silver hair caught the light of the moon and thus your attention, and you watched as a small red ember grew in size with the inhale of Aemond’s cigarette. 

Aemond, it seemed, could not find sleep either.

He stood in the kitchen, just as sleepless as you, black shirt thrown over grey sweats as he leant against the kitchen windowsill, blowing smoke outside with each drag.

His silver tresses of hair glimmered, reflecting the light, as though each strand had been made of moonlight itself.

You watched as his lips pursed to take another drag, tilting his head towards you as and indication that he had noticed your presence. But it wasn't for you. He did not greet you, nor did he turn his head to face you, staying still as he was, looking out into the night.

With soft steps, you made your way over, flicking on the kettle to boil some water, quietly pulling down a mug, then thinking about it for a moment, and reaching for a second, grabbing some chamomile tea bags for the both of you putting them in the cups.

The sound of the kettle was loud in your ears as you waited for it to boil, shifting on your feet awkwardly as you watched Aemond finish his cigarette, twisting the end on the outside of the brickwork, leaving the butt on the sill. 

You watched in the corner of your eye, as he rolled another with deft fingers and a precision that you admired secretly. 

When the kettle had boiled, you poured the water over the tea bags, picking one up, to hand to him. You averted your eyes, looking down to where his long fingers held the cigarette in his pointer and middle, wordlessly handing him the mug. 

It hovered between you for a moment, arm outstretched as Aemond looked at it. Time moved slowly as he did not reach for the tea, and for a moment, your heart sank, disappointment settling in your gut as the weight of the mug became heavier and heavier.

As you were about to pull it back admitting defeat, Aemond reached a slender hand, grasping the boiling hot mug from its sides, which would have no doubt burnt at his palm hotly. He didn’t thank you or nod his head in appreciation, not that you were looking to see, but instead, he placed the mug on the sill, picking up the lighter with the other hand as he moved to light the cigarette between his lips. 

You grabbed your mug and leant against the kitchen bench on the opposite side of the window with him, looking out into the darkness, barely registering the buildings more than 10 metres away. 

Anything to not look at him. 

To not ruin the perfectly calm moment that the two of you had reached in that moment. 

Finally in the eye of the storm. 

You brought your mug up to your lips, blowing the steam from the top, the smell of chamomile wafting around you. You sipped at the brew, feeling the heat travel down your throat and settle into your stomach warmly. 

You refused to speak first. 

Or to say anything at all really. 

Not wanting to push him again, to ruin the calm that settled between you, to then end up with the both of you, red faced and shaking with anger. You didn’t trust yourself to not explode, nor did you trust his ability to speak to you in a way that wasn’t patronising.

If Aemond wanted to speak, he would speak, and if not, you were content to sit in this silence to at least show that you could listen, would listen, if he so dared to open his mouth.

To show that you were willing to be around him despite his shitty behaviour. 

Smoke billowed from his lips, and the cigarette that was held delicately, yet almost even carelessly between two fingers, was shifted out towards you. You looked down at it, for one beat, then two, before placing your mug of tea down to grasp the cigarette from him. 

Warmth spread through your arm as your fingertips brushed over his, butterflies erupting in your chest, but you shoved that feeling down quickly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips to inhale. You took a drag, feeling the smoke sink into your lungs before you blew it out quietly, feeling the rush of it go to your head. 

“I thought about what you said.” Aemond finally breathed into the night, voice quiet and shy.

Your eyes lifted to look at him. His gaze was still outside as he leant forward on the window, hands clasped together, elbows on the edge of the wood. He fiddled with the signet ring on his pinky, turning it side to side. 

Bringing the cigarette up to your lips again you took another drag, letting Aemond have the space to talk, and also using the smoke as a means to force yourself to stay quiet so that he could say what he needed to say, and then you would go to bed.

Yes, that’s what you would do. Hear him out, most likely another shithouse apology, and then go to bed angry but vindicated.

Wordlessly you held out his smoke, watching as he kept his eye lowered as he took it from your hands, mug of tea in the other, palm wrapped around the porcelain which you questioned if he enjoyed the sting, or the grounding of the pain. 

Maybe he was punishing himself.

Aemond brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply and then exhaled a breath as he spoke, “And you were right.” Smoke curled under his nose as he inhaled it back inside, “But you were also wrong too.” 

You let your eyes roam his side profile, his nose long and sharp, lips pursed as he sucked at his gums, tongue rolling over the front of his teeth, thinking of the words to say next, perhaps thinking of how to apologise to you properly this time. 

“I am sorry. For what I said to you.” He apologised, true repentance on his tongue, “It wasn’t right, and you didn’t deserve that. I know you’re just trying to be a good friend to Helaena by doing me a favour, and I know that you’re trying to be a friend to me.” Aemond inhaled slowly, bringing up the cigarette to take another drag, “But like I tried to say, these things don’t come easy to me.”

Despite his apology, there was still his lingering attitude in the way he spoke, the words he had chosen. The way he conducted himself, as though he was angry that he had been called out, or that he had to be a better person to you.

You chewed at your cheek, not wanting to respond just yet, holding out your fingers towards him as he handed you the cigarette. 

Another brush of hands. 

You held the filter in your fingers, turning the cigarette softly as silence fell over the two of you.

Aemond brushed an uneasy hand through the front of his hair, large hand sliding down his neck as you watched his eyelashes flutter, up, down, but never once looking at you. 

As though he couldn’t bare to face you. 

He inhaled sharply, bare foot tapping on the tiled floor in irritation, “I know you think you know what happened between me and Alys, but Helaena doesn’t even know the whole of it. I-“ Aemond paused, swallowing thickly, “It’s not been easy these past few months without her, not that it was ever easy.” He sadly scoffed, adjusted his weight on his legs, “But she’s been trying to get back with me, texting, calling, and I don’t- I don’t know… I think it’s finally caught up to me what happened.”

You handed the smoke back, sipping your chamomile tea, enjoying the burn that it gave you, and also the way that it calmed your nerves, giving you something to focus on rather than the way that Aemond seemed to begin to curl in on himself, taking every fibre of your being to not reach out and comfort him. 

He chanced a glance at you, and stooped over the window, bent from the hips, his eye line was below yours, and so he had to look up at you through his lashes, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

Aemond brought the smoke to his lips, holding it there for a moment, before he began to speak, fingertips resting over his mouth as he spoke, “It wasn’t always bad, but she was much older,” He shifted again uncomfortably and you mirrored his action, “And I was too young and naive to see the truth of it.”

You hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected Aemond to open up to you about Alys, something that had been clearly affecting him as of late. 

Aemond sighed in a breath and you watched as he began to turn his signet ring with his thumb again, eye watching to motion carefully, methodically twisting it in sets of three. 

Twist, twist, twist. Pause. 

Twist, twist, twist. Pause.

“She was one of my tutors at KLU,” Aemond explained, and you felt your stomach drop, "It wasn’t- it started innocently enough. Lessons here and there, but then she- Well I… It felt good to be wanted. Felt good to have something that no-one could take from me. Not Viserys, not my brother, not- But then someone found out, and Alys said that we needed to leave KLU so that we could be together.”

Your lips parted in shock, watching as Aemond shook his head, taking a frustrated drag of the cigarette, ash falling from the end onto the sill which he swiped away with a finger agitatedly, “So I stopped my degree, left KLU, and went to Harrenhal with her. At first it was easy, perfect. I was so in love with her, but then she kept pushing the idea of having kids, of getting married.”

Married.

Kids.

“At first I was excited,” His eye flicked onto you, a sad smile pulling downwards on his lips, “Who doesn’t want to hear from the love of their life that they want to settle down? But then she kept asking about Viserys, and the law firm, and inheritance.” He spat, “And I knew, I knew that she was using me… But I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t. I loved her.” 

A twinge of empathy rolled through you.

How could you have been so blind to this?

“So I stayed, and it just got worse.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to say that you were sorry, to comfort him, but Aemond shook his head at you, watching as the words stuck in the back of your throat, “She started seeing other people,” Your mouth went dry, your own understanding of how he must of felt settling in your chest painfully, “And at first she kept it a secret, but then she did it more openly.”

You had the sudden desire to wring his ex’s neck.

Aemond’s eye narrowed as he spoke bitterly, looking down to his hand again where he twisted the ring more agitatedly, twist, twist, twist, pause, “Would taunt me about it. Fuck them in our bed. Would tell me I needed to ‘man up’ if I wanted to stay with her, told me I needed to be better for her, do better.” Aemond sighed, taking the last drag of the smoke, clearing his throat, “We were together for years, and she was all I knew. I didn’t-“

How could she have done this to him?

How could anyone have done anything like this to a person?

It was cruel. Inhumane. Horrible. And suddenly, the way Aemond behaved, his insecurities about Cregan, his jealously and refusal to let you get close began to make more and more sense.

You watched as his adams apple bobbed in his neck, “I didn’t know how to leave. I didn’t want to leave. Because when she was good, she was amazing. She was everything I wanted, everything I thought I deserved. Everything she made me believe I wanted. But when it was bad, it was…” Aemond trailed off, words caught in his throat, emotion beginning to boil over, "We would fight all the time. She would break things, cuss me out, tell me I was pathetic.” He swallowed again, voice quieter, “Hit me… And I was just an idiot in love who stood there and took it.”

Your chest ached painfully and you felt tears pull in your eyes.

Aemond.

You frowned, “You weren’t an idiot,” You said quietly, “You were in an abusive relationship, Aemond.”

The Targaryen blew air sharply through his nose, “I knew it was toxic and yet I stayed. Hoped it would get better. Waited for her to see that I was the only one she needed. That I could be good for her. Be better. I just- I thought we could be happy, like she promised. She was my first- And I-“ The silver haired man cleared his throat to sip at his tea.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to him, tears threatening to spill over, “I am so, so sorry, Aemond. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t want your pity,” He said quietly back, ego wounded, lingering pieces of denial and pain preventing him from being more vulnerable than he was, preventing him from letting anyone to see him as a victim, "I don’t want you apologising to me either. I deserved it.”

Your heart raced in your chest, “You didn’t-“

“-Could you for one second in your life not make excuses for me? I don’t want you to- I don’t- I feel-“ Aemond paused, not sure how to find the words, not sure how to move forward, and so you gave him a different path.

“How did you leave?”

The signet ring tapped loudly against his mug of tea.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

“Mum called, told me Viserys was sick, it looked bad at the time,” You noted how he called his dad by his first name, “I didn’t know how to feel about it. I was… lost. And Alys didn’t even care. Didn’t care that my… father… was sick. Didn’t care that he was dying. I stopped my studies for her, I left everything behind for her. Friends. Family. Everything. And she didn’t even care. She just asked how much I would inherit, asked if I would get the law firm. She- she didn’t- she just-“

Your hand lifted before you could stop it, setting it against his shoulder gently. Aemond’s entire body bristled, as though your touch had sobered him up, and you watched in disappointment as the brick walls began to build behind his eye again. 

“That’s horrible. Really, you didn’t deserve any of that. Your partner is supposed to love and support you. Listen to you. Be there for you. I’m sorry that you were so alone.” You empathised, “She sounds ho-“

“-Don’t.”

Even in his weakest of moments, even when in times of pain or reminiscing on the abuse, Aemond still would not let anyone say anything about Alys.

The good, the bad, or the ugly. 

It was his to talk about. 

And his alone.

“I know,” He continued, looking at your carefully, his silver lashes brushing against his cheeks as he momentarily looked down at your hand on his shoulder, and then back up at you. 

The way he gazed at you made your chest constrict, “-I know that you probably don’t care about this,” You shook your head and Aemond sighed inwardly, “But I needed to tell you. To explain. I don’t want sympathy, or for you to make excuses for me. You said-... I listened to what you said. I'm trying, Y/n. In the only way I know how.”

You let your thumb rub his shoulder soothingly before you stepped towards him, your shoulder brushing his as you both looked out the kitchen window into the dark of the night, a blanket of quiet enveloping around the two of you, only this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

If he was sharing, then you would too.

“I caught Jason cheating on me with his now girlfriend, I think I told you that once. Caught them in our bed together, and he blamed me for it.” You breathed, lifting the tea to your lips, finding your mouth suddenly dry, “It wasn’t the first time though. But it was the last time. I knew he had a reputation but I ignored it. Fools in love, you know?”

Aemond nodded his head and huffed a quiet, bitter laugh.

“He was just so charming, and when I met him on campus, all the girls chased him, but he chose me. And it made me feel special, to have him choose me like that over them. Such a stupid pick me moment now that I look back at it." You scoffed quietly, "I think I was just so caught up on actually being desired… I know now that he didn’t. He was still sleeping with them, but still. I get what you mean about staying, hoping for better. I mean- I obviously- He never- He didn’t physically-“

“-It’s okay. I know what you mean.” Aemond reassured you, and you felt your heart quieten from its speeding pace.

You continued, “But I was never isolated. I was never alone. I had my friends. I had Hel. And if we are truly being as candid as I think we are being right now, I had a family who was there to support me, which I feel that you perhaps didn’t.” You looked down at your mug, watching the way the teabag shifted in the cooling water, Aemond’s gaze on you.

He lifted the cup to his lips and drained the last of the dregs of tea before settling it on the window sill, eye cast to the dark, then back to you, then out to the dark again in contemplation. 

“I heard Cregan tell you about what happened to me.”

Anxiety and regret poured through you. 

What else had he heard?

“Viserys had always been sick.” He explained, and you knew this already from what Helaena had told you, “Growing up, he was always at the doctors and the specialists, and was never really there. But in all honesty, I don’t think, even without the illness, that he would have been there. He-“ Aemond fiddled with the ring on his finger, family insignia pressed into its centre.

Twist, twist, twist, pause. “He never really got over his first marriage. Never got over the death of his first wife, Aemma. And I think,” You watched him lick his lips, “I think mum was a convenience to him. They married for convenience. She was more caregiver than wife… I mean, he loves her. I know he does. But he could have done more. And he never really paid attention to me and Aegon. Helaena he adores, but even then, their relationship is strained, not what it should be.”

Helaena often told you about her want for their father to spend more time with the boys, but he seemed to never have much interest in them. Not once giving Aegon, Aemond or Daeron the praise they needed, and only ever being cynical in their achievements, stating that they could be doing more, or that they were doing not enough. 

This of course led to the way Aegon came to be the way he was. 

Aemond chewed at his bottom lip, “A few years back I went to visit him. And mum. Went with Hel and Aegon. Daeron couldn’t come because of his studies. But we went together, a united front, and I just- I had this child’s hope that he would see me. But he was barely lucid on painkillers that he didn’t even know who I was. But he remembered Rhaenyra.” His voice got darker, resentment and anger and sorrow swirling on the tip of his tongue, “Said to her, in front of all of us, ‘My only child’.”

Your mouth gaped open. 

Aemond spared a glance at you and shook his head, laughing bitterly, “Aegon laughed, but you could tell it stung, being the eldest boy and all. He just laughed and then drank himself into a stupor. Hel was quiet, and I-“ He rolled his shoulders back, “I just left. I don’t know what I was expecting.” 

His voice shifted, brows furrowing as his lips twitched at the sides, pulling into a tight flat line. It was an attempt to not sneer as clear as day, “But Rhaenyra, she tried. She tried to say we were there, tried to explain to him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her defend us like that, but it was no use. It was too late. We didn’t grow up together, we didn’t have that kind of bond. I know mum had a play in it. And after the incident, I guess it was just better for all of us that we parted ways."

You nodded, knowing all too well about this.

“When I lost my eye, it was an accident.” Aemond’s voice got quieter as his fingers traced the scar on his cheek and brow in memory, “And Cregan told you the rest, but he doesn’t know about what happened after. I had no-one.” He breathed, and you felt yourself shifting closer to him, hoping your presence would give the man some sort of comfort for the words that seemed to continue to spill forth from his lips in an endless stream of cathartic release. Thoughts and feelings that he had told you had not even been uttered to his sister. 

“Mum was so hellbent on taking Rhaenyra to court that she didn’t stop or spend time with me when I was recovering in hospital. The only person there was Criston, and that was because mum made him. Hel, Aegon and Daeron went back to school, and I stayed in the hospital alone. I can’t- I don’t-”

Aemond swallowed, eye shutting as he stood to his full height, “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

Anxiety wound a coil in your gut.

Had he said too much?

Does he regret speaking to you?

Would he go back to being cold again? Quieter?

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, grabbing his larger one in your own. You watched as Aemond flinched slightly, hand flexing before it relaxed in yours. You soothed his knuckles with your thumb, anchoring him to the spot with you.

You swallowed, “Come to bed.” You said quietly, watching as his face moved through a myriad of emotions. 

Shock, confusion, anger, and then finally, disgust.

“You think I want to f-“

“-No!” You said loudly, realising the accidental implication, before you lowed your voice again, “No. No, I- Just lay with me. Nothing else. I-“ You swallowed, “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Aemond blinked at you softly, his face falling, “I’m always alone.” He whispered.

Your heart tugged in your chest. 

You squeezed his hand gently, “You don’t need to be.”

The air around you shifted, Aemond staring down at you as you held his hand in the dark of the kitchen, unspoken words floating around the two of you. But in that moment, you didn’t need to say a thing.

Aemond nodded his head down at you, almost imperceptible, and your heart thumped in your chest as you led him towards your bedroom in the dark, not letting go of him until you pulled the sheets back and crawled in first, urging him to climb in after you.

If it was not for the sadness that permeated around the two of you, you would have laughed at how large Aemond was in your bed, taking up most of one side as he was on. He lay flat on his back, crossing his hand over his chest, unsure of what to do. 

You took initiative and curled up against him, lifting one of his arms over your shoulder as you settled into the heat of his side. You let one hand rest against his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed quietly.

Aemond was stiff, unsure, uncertain, as you laid against him, lifting your hand from your chest to brush through his hair, an attempt to soothe the man with gentle strokes and repetition. You wondered briefly if Alys ever comforted him like this after their fights. After her infidelity.

You then wondered with a stray thought, if Aemond had ever been comforted ever in his life. 

His hair was silky against your palm and fingers as you brushed your hand through it, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. You heard him breathe deeply, a small groan falling from his lips, the tension in his body slowly leaking from him. 

You repeated the motion over and over, and eventually Aemond softened, his head tilting towards you in the dark of the room. Although you could scarcely see his gaze, you knew that he was watching you, only small pieces of light from the moon coming through the cracks of your curtains. 

Heat rolled over you as you felt him observing you. 

Aemond shifted in your sheets, hand coming to reach for yours in his hair, long fingers wrapping themselves around yours warmly, calloused palm rubbing over the top of your hand delicately. 

With your hand in his, he brought it away from his silver tendrils, dragging it down slowly as he looked at you in the dark, moonlight shrouded over his body, just barely illuminating him as his lips parted, pressing a kiss into the palm of your hand. Your breath stilled in your throat as he did it again, tenderly, softly, reverently, before his mouth slid upwards, bottom lip dragging against your skin, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

Aemond pressed another gentle kiss to the tips of your fingers, a bare breath of air puffing over the digits as he tilted his head, pressing another to your inner wrist, right above your pulse point. You wondered momentarily if he felt the way your pulse quickened, blood thumping in your veins against his plump lips. 

It wasn’t long until he dragged your fingertips back to his mouth, but this time, instead of the cautious and soothing kiss he had placed there before, his teeth now nipped at the pad of your pointer slowly. Not sharply with unconfined lust, but rather as if he was testing the waters, and when no argument came from your lips, nor objection to his indication to his now aroused state, Aemond leant forward towards your face, still holding your hand in his. 

His lips met the corner of your mouth, barely there, yet full of yearning. You tilted your head upwards, to give him access to you, to which he pressed a softer kiss squarely upon your lips. You felt him breathe out through his nose in a shudder, your eyes slipping closed, not that you could see much anyway, as you kissed him back, cautious, curious, letting him set the pace.

There was no rush in the way he held you, sliding your body towards him with a large palm, hand spread against your ribs and waist, fingers ever so often tensing as he began to slowly deepen the kiss. But this was different to your previous times kissing Aemond. There was no malice, no rush, no anger simmering beneath the surface with resentment and confusion of the dynamic between the two of you. 

These kisses that he pressed against your lips were slow, sensual, as though time had stopped for the two of you, and it spoke multitudes that Aemond was content to just bask in the warmth that spread between the two of you, his hand still holding yours, thumb pressed into your palm like a pressure point. 

It was a side of him you had never seen before.

And you were content to leave it at that, to just hold him and kiss him in a way that he clearly needed in that moment, not wanting to move it forward, nor push either of you to go to someplace that the previous conversation in the kitchen would deter you from. But Aemond was not as content as you had thought he was. 

His hand slid down your side, moving to cup under your ass as he dragged a leg over his side, nestling his hips between yours. You whimpered softly into his mouth as you felt his hardened length brush against your inner thigh. 

Aemond taking this as the permission he needed, began to grind up against you, lips chasing yours lazily, keeping the same slow rhythm as before, matching the pace of his hips as he ground up against you, small gasp falling into your mouth from his as his hips stuttered.

He skimmed his hand from your thigh up your body, never breaking away from your embrace as he explored your body slowly, making your body out with careful precision. Each drag of his finger over your curves stored into the back of his mind for later. 

Over the top of your sleep shirt his hand found your breast, hot air puffed through his nose as he squeezed, a mewl dripped hotly from your lips as you arched your chest into his hand.

He twinged a nipple between fingers, sending sparks through your body straight to your core, your leg dragging his hips closer to your heat as you bucked up into him, wetness pooling into your sleep shorts. 

A hand slid itself underneath your shirt, feeling the away your stomach clenched beneath it as it moved upwards, finally resting over your chest. He splayed his fingers across your skin, feeling your heart race beneath his palm. 

Your cheeks were heated, and Aemond finally broke away from the tender kiss that you had been sharing. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking to adjust in the darkness as you breathed shallowly, looking at him. 

The air around you was static, and you got the sudden urge to pull back, to retreat, that this was too intimate, that you were showing too much of your hand to him, too much of yourself to him and what you truly desired.

As if sensing your sudden caution, the hand that held yours dragged itself down his own chest, his lips pressing into the corner of your lips before he settled your hand under his own shirt and above where his heart was. 

Beneath your palm, you felt the same erratic heartbeat that was racing through your own chest, but this time, in his. Your fingers tightened against his skin, feeling bone and muscle, and a light dusting of hair beneath, but under all of that was the undeniable truth that Aemond wanted this just as much as you did. 

Bringing your lips back to his you kissed him, both of your hands staying above each others chests warmly as you rolled your hips into his, a soft grunt coming from deep within Aemond throat. 

With slow hands, Aemond took off your pants, aiding by your own hands as you slid them down your legs, kicking them to the bottom of the bed sheets where they were lost and would be found later. He then shifted, breaking away from the embrace as he took off his own pants, followed by his shirt, awkward movements jolting the bed that you would have normally giggled at if it wasn’t for the sincerity of it all. 

And then you were back together, skin pressed against skin and anticipation buzzing through you like electricity. He held your jaw in both of his hands as he dragged you back to him, one hands fingers curling into your hair at the nape of your neck. 

You were lost to his touch, growing dizzy from desire as he dragged your leg over his hip once more, slotting his hips against you. You felt his hard length brush against your folds, your chest pressing into him as you breathlessly whined into his mouth. Your hands slipped around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Aemond tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. 

Hot air puffed against your lips as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, capturing his lips with yours once again as he took a hand to drag between the two of you, parting your folds in test to see if you were wet enough, and also to help guide his length blindly to your sopping centre. 

Aemond pushed into you with one long and slow thrust, a sharp inhale sucked into the both of your chests, mouths opened as you paused from your kiss, lips still brushing against each other as you felt his length fill you completely.

His cock stretched you out thickly, his chest brushing against yours with every restrained breath he took. 

Blood rushed in your ears, your pulse quickening as he pulled back, dragging his cock through your folds before back up inside of you. Your leg over his hip dragged higher as you pulled him closer, giving him a better angle to reach deeper within you. 

The tip of his length brushed over every inch within you, a dreamy sigh falling from your lips as you nipped at Aemond’s mouth. He repeated the motion, slowly pushing his hips up into yours before dragging them backwards, leaving just his tip inside of you before he would plunge back inside. 

You both pulled away from your kiss, foreheads pressed against each other as you breathed and whined, emotion pouring from him, his shoulders still tensed beneath your arms. 

You tried to soothe him, running your fingers along the nape of his neck experimentally pressing into the thick cords of muscle at the back, at times rewarded by a small mewl from him before you settled to just tug lightly at his hair.

His thrusts never sped up, keeping the same restrained pace as heat bloomed in your stomach.

All that could be heard was the wet of your folds as he dragged himself through them and the pleasure that sang from the both of your lips. 

The coil within you began to wind, and following his actions from earlier, you pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Aemond’s hips stuttered, and as he fucked into you sensually, all emotion and passion. You could feel the sadness that permeated from him, that creeped under his skin and into yours with every thrust or breathy whine. Your heart ached as you felt it, but you knew that this was what he wanted. That this was how he wanted to be comforted, that this was what he had chosen, and so you praised him as he sought his pleasure, and aimed to bring you to yours. 

“So good.” You gasped against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his plump and bitten raw lips as you carded your hands through his hair softly, “Making me feel so good.”

A low whine escaped his chest, and you felt his length within you throb. 

Your own coil was increasingly winding with every shift of his hips, every drag of his cock against the pleasurable spots within you, and the meeting of the soft dusting of curls at the base of his cock that brushed against your bud with every thrust. 

“You feel so good, Aemond.” You praised huskily, cupping a cheek in your hand as you felt his thrusts finally begin to quicken, their steady pace crumbling from your praise and his nearing release. 

His lips crashed into yours, desperate groan rumbling in his chest as a hand moved to wrap itself under your ass, pulling you closer, length pressing inside of you to its limit, spreading you wider apart on his length as he plunged inside. 

The shift caused sparks to erupt in your gut, “‘M close.” You softly whimpered, “Want you to cum.” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, his forehead pressed to your own as he quickened his pace.

“Please.” He trembled in your arms, hand splayed on the globe of your ass gripping the flesh tighter. 

But no matter how close he got to his peak, he didn’t push himself over the edge and you could feel it. 

He was waiting for you. 

Waiting for your encouragement, waiting for your pleasure. But in that moment, you knew that Aemond needed it more than you. You would give him the permission he needed to hear.

“Let go.”

Aemond came with a shattered cry, hips stuttering into yours as he rode out his release, hot ropes of warmth flooding your core as you cooed him softly, brushing hair away from his forehead as you kissed his scarred cheek.

“So good.” You cooed quietly, “So beautiful.”

His body rippled as he pushed himself to his limit, hips pressed snugly against yours as he puffed breaths of hot air against your cheek. His head dipped down to where your neck meets your shoulder, stomach intermittently clenching at the aftershocks, your wet warmth still gripping him tightly.

Your heart raced in your chest as Aemond pressed lips to the junction of neck and shoulder, kissing softly, air puffing against your skin from his nose. You dragged your hands up and down his back soothingly, feeling goosebumps erupt from his skin, a soft whine pressed into your shoulder. 

His cock twitched inside of you, causing a breathless sigh to fall from your lips, pleasure still settled within you. Aemond’s head lifted from the crux of your neck, eye finding yours in the darkness. 

“You didn’t finish.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. 

You chuckled softly, careful to make it known that you weren’t laughing at him, “I don’t need to.”

His brows furrowed at you, and you smoothed at them with a thumb. 

Aemond shifted, dragging his length from within you, mewling whimper escaping your lips as every vein and ridge dragged through your walls deliciously. But instead of Aemond pulling out, he pushed right back inside, fire erupting over your skin as your breath hitched. 

He bit his lip, overstimulated but wanting to bring you to your peak as he slowly fucked into you again, dragging his tip over the soft spongey spot inside of you with precision. He pushed all the way in to the hilt, his tip pressing into your cervix as you moaned desperately, fingers digging into the skin of his back as you gripped him to you. 

You could feel his spend dripping out of you, stickiness coating your thighs and his sack which were pressed against you tightly. 

Aemond dragged a hand down your body disappearing between your thighs as he gathered some of his cum up to your clit, swirling his thumb around it softly in circles. You moaned softly, breasts pressing into his chest as he held you to him, not moving his cock, but using it to keep you full of him, feeling your walls twitch and spasm around him as he brought you to your peak with a sudden cry. 

Your walls gripped him tightly as he hissed, slowing his thumbs movements to drag you through your release until you whined that it was too much.

Your body felt like jelly, unable to move, content to just lay in his arms, cock softening inside of you. 

And so that’s what you did. 

Neither of you uttering a word as to what had just happened, nor a whisper of what had been said, both laid in the dark, legs intertwined, the warm glow of your peaks settling over you as your hearts raced within your chests.

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Bold is who I cannot tag

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not going to my brother's wedding?

I (35F) and my brother (29M) have always had a bit of a rocky relationship. Like, don't get me wrong, I love him, always have, always will. That said, we've been at each other's throats since he was capable of speech, and probably will be until one of us dies of spite.

My brother, let's call him Carter, has been in an on-and-off relationship with Taylor (29F) ever since they were in middle school. Personally, I hate Taylor, and I'm fine keeping it that way. She treats Carter like shit, she's cheated on him more times than I can count, she steals money from him, she is just an awful person to be around. Like, don't get me wrong, Carter's also an asshole, but can you really blame him considering what he has to deal with?

Now, a few months ago, they broke things off after Taylor stole his car to go and hook up with a guy in another state. He got the car back, told her to go fuck herself, and that was that. In the meantime, he ended up moving in with his best friend since high school (28M), let's call him Tim, and they have been no contact with Taylor ever since. About a month ago, I was talking to Carter, and he sheepishly told me that he had realized he was bisexual and was now dating Tim.

Honestly, I was ecstatic. Like, he and Taylor have been a thing for forever, and despite all of their breakups, I've never seen Carter actually date someone other than her. Also, Tim is someone that has a really good head on his shoulders. He can be a dick, but honestly, so can Carter, and he's really smart and down-to-earth. I was super accepting, of course, and I told Carter how happy I was for him, how glad I was to see him moving on and living his best life with someone that actually respects him.

Fast forward to last week. It's my day off, and I'm hanging out at my house, getting some chores done, when I get a call from Carter. I pick up and ask him how he's doing, and he tells me that he's doing good, but he wants me to come down to the courthouse. I ask him what for, and he tells me he's getting married! I'm kind of in shock, like--yeah, I'm glad he's with Tim, but isn't that a little fast?

That is, of course, when he drops the bomb on me: He's not marrying Tim. Taylor came crawling back yesterday and proposed to him. He's marrying Taylor.

I lose it a bit, I ask him if he's lost his mind, and we get into a shouting match over the phone. He tells me I'm being a bitch, I tell him it'll be a cold day in hell when I just stand there like a dumbass at his and Taylor's wedding. I don't go, they get married, that's that.

Yesterday, I went out to get lunch at my usual spot, and who do I see but Tim. I sit down with him and ask him how he's doing, ask him what's going on in his life, and so on. I tell him I feel so awful that things went sideways with Carter, and tell Tim that he's always a part of our family, even if Carter's lost his mind and dumped the best thing that's ever happened to him. Tim gives me a weird look, and asks what I'm talking about. I tell him that I heard about Carter and Taylor getting married, and that's when he drops the bomb on me that he's still in a relationship with Carter.

At first, I'm pissed at Carter for cheating on Tim, but Tim reassures me that he's into it--something I wouldn't have expected from him. I mean, I'm glad Carter still has Tim in his life I guess, but I still feel like he's being a dick to Tim. I don't tell Tim that, but I do tell him that I can't accept my brother marrying Taylor.

He tells me that he knows, but that Carter's been miserable since the wedding after I didn't show up. Tim tells me that Carter misses me, and that he's really been hoping I reach out. That's a surprise to me, because he's been saying he's not going to talk to me again until I apologize.

I really do care about my brother, but I can't pretend I support him marrying someone that's just going to keep being a toxic presence in his life. I don't care about how many people he's in a relationship with, or whether he's straight or bi or gay or whatever. I just want him to be safe and happy, and I know this relationship is really bad for him. Tim seems to think I should have just sucked it up and gone to his wedding anyways for the sake of my relationship with him. I'm starting to have doubts--I know I hurt him. But I also don't feel sorry. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[littlesubbyflower]

Smoochy Kiss - E.M.

Modern AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary : You show Eddie a cute TikTok and he’s more than willing to recreate it with you

820 Words

Warnings - None? This is tooth rotting fluff. (if there are any warnings that you think should be added, please PM me and I will add them!!)

Author’s Note : I came up with this blurb out of spite over a legitimate TikTok that my boyfriend refuses to make with me even though I cried over it lmao. My fictional boyfriend Eddie would NEVER deny the simple pleasures of recreating TikToks. 

Thank you @myobmaya for always reading my ideas and helping me bring them to life! I am forever grateful and I love you always for it! 💖

— 🌻 — —🌻 — — 🌻 — 

The video started off simple, just a girl applying lipstick, smudging it a bit, and then her boyfriend’s hand comes into view and the camera pans to the left to bring him into view and he has kiss marks all over his face and he grins like an idiot. 

‘This is so cute, what the fuck?’ you think to yourself. 

“Hey Eddie!!” You call out, hoping he’d hear you from your spot on the couch. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” Eddie says, walking into the living room. 

“So, uh, I saw this video… and..” you look up at him while he’s now standing in front of you “Actually, never mind. It’s stupid, and you probably won’t want to. Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing in the bedroom.” 

“No, no. Let me see it, baby.” He sits next to you and waits for you to show him the Tiktok you were previously watching. You unlock your phone and show him the video, and he gently takes your phone and watches the video three more times before he hands you your phone and bolts out of the room without a word. 

Moments later, he reappears with several different shades of your lipstick. 

��Do it. Let’s do it, please.” He shoves the lipsticks into your hands. 

“Really? You’d want to do this with me?” You ask, shyly. 

“Of course! If it’s something that will make you smile, I’ll do it.” He says seriously, kneeling in front of you. “Now get to smoochy-kissing, baby, those kiss marks aren’t going to appear themselves!” 

You laugh and pick up a pinkish shade, you apply it and kiss his forehead and his cheek. You pick up a darker shade and kiss his other cheek, his temple and his nose. He picks up his favorite shade, red, and applies it for you. You kiss his lips, his jaw and another on his neck. 

Eddie let out a groan, “Baby if you keep kissing my jaw and neck we will never finish this video.”

“Sorry. Ed’s, it’s just so tempting!” you giggle and kiss his jaw again. 

“Okay, perfect. Now, start the video and apply this shade like she did, and don’t forget to smudge it a little.” Eddie says, excitedly pushing your phone into your hands. You roll your eyes at his eagerness and start the video, doing exactly what the other girl had done. Eddie brings his ring clad hand up into the camera’s view and you pan the camera to him and he’s smiling like an idiot, looking at you with pure love in his eyes. You bring the camera back to your view and make a silly face before saving and drafting the video. 

“I’m going to screen record it and send it to the girls.” You say, doing just that. Once you send it to the group chat between Nancy, Robin and yourself, you just sit and wait for their reply. 

“I think this is the best Tikkok you’ve ever made.” 

“Sweetheart, this is the only TikTok I've ever made.” Eddie says laughing, and laying his head in your lap. 

“Oh, Robin is facetiming me!” you say as the phone starts ringing. 

“Hi Rob-”

You are interrupted by the sound of her gagging. 

“That video was so cute it was disgusting.” she gags again. 

“Post it! I thought it was sweet!” Nancy yells from somewhere in the background. 

Robin shushes her and looks back at the screen. “She’s right, it is sweet, but disgusting at the same time. Like, I'm gay and all, but that was next level gay and I would appreciate it if you did not subject me to that kind of content again.” She jokes. 

Eddie takes the phone out of your hands, flashes Robin a grin and pulls the phone back to be able to see his own face on the screen better. 

“You’re just mad Nance won’t let you do this with her!” Eddie teases. 

“You’re right, lover boy, she is mad that I won’t let her, how sad!” Nancy calls out from somewhere in the background again. 

“Well me and my darling here are going to hang up so we can post our disgusting video now!” Eddie laughs, earning a gag from Robin again before hanging up. 

“Hey! I didn’t even get to tell them bye!” you complain. 

Eddie shrugs his shoulders and purses his lips for a kiss. “I’d like an actual kiss now, m’lday!” 

“Let me post this video before I forget!” You add the necessary tags and music to the video before posting. “Okay, and done! It’s posted!” You lean down and press a quick peck to Eddie’s lips. 

“But I wanted a smoochy-kiss!” Eddie whines and pouts. You just laugh and push him off your lap and he falls to the floor with a light thud. 

“Sorry, not now, lover boy!” You say as you walk off to find the makeup remover and some cotton pads.

[sokkastyles]

The Azula stans are going to be fucking unbearable when the "Azula in the Spirit Temple" comic comes out, since it hints at her redemption which automatically means she never did anything wrong. I don't consider the comics canon because they are so bad and OOC, but the stans will be rubbing it in everyone's face forever. They aren't going to do it well, considering it took Zuko 3 seasons to change and all Azula gets is a comic series to deal with her far worse crimes. One of the Azula stans, the one you were arguing with on that long ass post also says they are involved with it or something like that, so idk what sorta writing this comic is going to have. Probably gonna have Zuko abusing Azula or whatever, since they seem very happy in their last reblog of that post lol. I almost hope she doesn't change just to spite the stans. If they make Ursa, Iroh and Zuko out to be bad people I will be done.

I actually would like to see an Azula redemption, and part of me does want to see what the writers come up with because I do think that connecting Azula to the spirit world is the way to go there, but I agree that it won't be done well. I foresee a few different scenarios happening:

Azula gets a redemption but it's not good enough for these stans because it's an ACTUAL redemption where Azula has to actually face and admit her crimes and stop behaving abusively, and her stans don't want that and will claim it's not a REAL redemption. I mean, the series has been hinting at it for a while and the stans are still up in arms about how the writers hate her and want nothing but to abuse her. "The Search" does a lot to make her a sympathetic villain but her stans act like Gene Yang is the devil for it. It's still not good writing but it's obvious that the writers want her to be sympathetic to the reader.

The writers try to cater to Azula's fanbase and do a half-assed redemption, which may or may not be accepted. I mean, witness the pushback in recent years to the likes of Kylo Ren or Catra because their redemptions didn't have near the thought put into them that Zuko's did. Either the stans will eat it up or they'll use it to fuel their vendetta because what Azula gets won't be as good as what Zuko got and they will HATE that.

The problem is that bad redemption arcs, if not done carefully, run the risk of running into the same kind of victim blaming that these stans spout on a constant basis. Even if the writing doesn't make Zuko/Iroh out to be bad, there's the inherent implication, that already exists because we see it already in the discourse, that they're horrible for not sacrificing themselves for Azula and putting up with her constant abuse. What Ehasz described, the scenario where Zuko serves as Azula's long-suffering Iroh, is a nice thought, but it carries the implication that this is the virtuous way for an abuse victim to respond to their abuse. I find it hard to believe that Ehasz would even write that, no matter what statements he makes on twitter fifteen years after he had any involvement with the show, because when he was actually writing the show, even redeemed Zuko never became a doormat who only lives for Aang and the others. See also the constant discourse about how he's horrible for disagreeing with Aang or getting mad at Sokka for poking him with a stick.

See also the amount of crap that Zuko puts up with from Azula in the Search, but you know how the discourse around that goes. It's not enough because these stans WANT to see her as the ultimate victim, so any kindness offered to Azula can be twisted into actually another way that she's a victim.

I very much doubt that that person is involved at all with the comic. I've also seen them claim that they voiced Azula in some promotional materials, which I also doubt. They seem like the kind of person who naturally vacillates towards characters like Azula because they fuel their sense of grandiosity and victimization. I wouldn't believe anything they say. I'm still not sure they're not a troll trying to parody Azula stan accounts.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

You belong with me

so i decided to post wadsworth first. modern au cressworth- you belong with me taylor swift

Thomas throws his phone down on the bed with frustration swirling around him as he paces. I set down my pen and wait till he turns and spots me. We often find ourselves talking via paper throughout the nights, from questions about our day to helping each other study. It is also often we watch each other be angry at something, yet I've not seen him this bad before. Finally Thomas turns and catches my eye. He stands there for a second before smiling and I quickly move around my various workbooks till I find my notebook I use to talk to him. I take my sharpie and write: ‘Are you okay?’

I watch him shake his head ever so slightly, seemingly baffled at it, but he walks to his window and opens it. The wind brushes his deep brown hair and I can't help but want to reach out and run my hand through it. I curse myself for it as he motions for me to open my window. Moving my books and pens off of me and cursing at my stiff leg as I go and open the window. Somehow I manage to hit my arm in the process and I curse, which makes Thomas laugh slightly so I forgive my body for hurting me. 

“You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” he teases and I relax slightly because of it.

“Fuck you,” I scowl at his smirk and the frigid wind. His eyes light up at my temper. We live across from one another, if we were to reach out we could hold hands. Which we have done. When I got rejected from the specific school I was desperate to go to, Thomas had managed to climb into my room and hold me as I cried. He's only ever needed to climb over twice to cheer me up, the other times have been to study or watch some romance programme he thought was good. I hoped wherever was troubling was something that wouldn't resort to me having to climb over. As much as I would want to, my brain may have a hard time letting me attempt it. 

“I assume dear Wadworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” he asks, eyes focused on behind me and fingers tapping his window sill as he sits. I watch as his cat, ridiculously named Sir Isaac Mewton, jumps off his bed and onto his seat next to him. He grabs the cat and kisses the top of his head before holding him in his lap.

“Perhaps,” I say, moving so I rest my head on the wall, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” his eyes shift to mine and despite him still being angry they soften at my attempt at humour. I am not as good as Thomas at using humour to help someone, but he always does it for me. 

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” he smiles down at his cat. I remember the day he brought him home, he made me go over to his house and we spent all night playing with him. Thomas did, I ended up studying and making notes for the both of us while he gave Sir Isaac a ‘grand tour’ of his new home. The smile vanishes off Thomas's face and once again his gaze goes past me. “I assume you saw the call, well that was William. Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumour that I'm with Miss Whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I watch him scoff, anger once again taking over his features. His cat nuzzles into him and Thomas leans into his cat. If I wasn't also mad now I'd smile at the sight. 

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?” 

“Yes.”

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' I find myself standing and pacing, trying to quell my own rising anger. A year ago, William had been my lab partner for a few weeks, he was friendly, but people had got it in their head that we were somehow together, and he went with it. Gossiped about me, even Thomas, and then was somehow enraged I dared to stop those rumours and be angry at him. I'd come home one day when it was particularly too much, when my father had found out and lectured me about it, as though I was in the wrong for standing up for myself. He'd cancel my lesson with my uncle out of spite, and I stormed upstairs. Thomas had been at the window, as if he was expecting me. One look at his face made me cry. I managed to open my window and he'd once again climbed in and held me as I cried. Then he made us watch this awful romance film together and held me still as I fell asleep on him. 

“I have never once,” Thomas says, dragging me back from those awful memories, “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She's just- a lot.”

I huff a sigh. She is awful. Had been awful to Liza and I for years. With her short skirts, high heels and the most rotten attitude I have ever witnessed. It wasn't often that I'd hate someone like that, someone so different from me in nearly every way, but she has tried to make me feel that I don't belong because of my interest in science and not the traditional girl interests.. “That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Beside, you wouldn't work, she's too- your,” I have no idea how to explain how excellent Thomas is, how wonderful his mind is and how kind he is. It's not a side he shows to most, yet if he was ever with someone like Whitehall, it would be disastrous. I take my seat again and find him looking at me, suppressing a smirk and raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask. I shrink under his gaze, pulling my hoodie over my legs as I curl in on myself. 

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“Your absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” I roll my eyes as he shifts so he is fully facing me, eyes completely focused, no sign of the anger he had only moments ago, “your too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” don’t belong with her.

Ever since he mentioned the idea of being with someone else, real or not, I have tried to ignore how much it pained me that he would be with someone else. I never expected to want to be with him, yet lately the premise of dating him has seemed very pleasing to me.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” his voice is deeper than normal and his gaze travels over me even though his eyes are on my own. Thomas pats Sir Issac and his cat jumps off behind him with a whine. His hand reaches out for mine and I lean forward, wind making my loose strands of hair fly across my face. His hands are warm as I take them but his smile warms me more. It is small but genuine and filled with the normal Cresswell charm mixed with something I can't quite name. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.” 

“I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-” he looks down contemplating his words before he once again locks his gaze on mine, his dark brown eyes bright, “I dont belong with her, your right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.” 

I blink at the honesty. I want to scream that you belong with me; but if Thomas is in love with someone else then I suppose I will have to find a way to deal with it. I try to keep the hurt of my face even as he smiles at me. 

“I-” Thomas lets go of my hand and stands. There's a silence between us until he motions for me to move. The idiot is going to climb into my house so he can tell me about his new found love. Like the fool I am, I'm going to let him talk about this girl who makes him look this happy. Even though it hurts that it's not me who is making him look like that. Even though I'm the one who makes him laugh when he is angry or upset. Even though I'm the one who knows his favourite songs, the books beside his bed and all his hopes and dreams.

He climbs over and sets himself on the window sill, giving me room to sit across from him. I do, even as I try to ignore the weight pressing down on my chest. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I say and mean it. I once again curl into myself, hoodie covering my legs as i watch him continue to smile at me, 

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” I blurt out, my mind catching up, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

“Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” He starts laughing at my gaping mouth until I collect myself enough to scowl at him slightly for laughing. Thomas reaches out for my hand, moving closer to me until my back is pressed against the wall, my hoodie no longer over my legs as he rests his other hand on my leg, warmth seeping through me. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.” 

Silence washes over us as we stare, trying to convince ourselves this is really happening. “I have something to show you.” My voice is barely about a whisper and I slide out of his grasp even though I don't want to. I walk to my bed where all my notebooks were left open and my notebooks sits. I open it out and let a piece of paper fall out. Facing Thomas I open the sheet slowly, watch him read the words. His eyes lit up at them.

I love you.

I take my place beside him again, his hands finding their way in mine once again. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time. Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Thomas just stares at me, eyes flicking down to my lips every now and then. His hands are making circles on my leg, not entirely intentional. Thomas has always shown if he is excited or nervous by either tapping or making shapes on surfaces. The world slows completely as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. He pulls back ever so slightly, resting his head against mine and we are both smiling wildly at each other, pressing kisses until he leans further away. Thomas goes back to his side of the wall, which may as well be across the other side of the world, then he pulls me to him and I twist so that my back is against his. He holds me as we both look out the window, enjoying the freeing feeling of telling each other how we feel. 

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.” 

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black-blog @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore ​ @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto​ @throneofsc @bookscressworth​

[lunarflux]

hwang hyunjin x reader

genre — angst!au

hookup to lover

suggested background music: (click the x)

note: i am so so sorry idk what happened with this one. i was listening to one song, and as my playlist changed, the storyline changed so i did a lot of tweaking to keep with the mood. i did my best to characterize a backstory for the mc x hyunjin lol i like to write about these "moments" that let the reader continue the story on their own, so i hope this is okay??

x

.

.

.

Hot water hit the back of your neck before trickling down the curves of your back.

No music, no distractions, but here in the steam, enveloped in a warmth akin to his, these were the only thoughts, combing through the air like water under lily pads.

Watching the remnants of bubbles sliding down your legs and onto the porcelain, you sighed through the fog.

He seemed to be all you could think of lately.

You two had known each other for years. Childhood dreams came and went, and the years spent apart from the other seemed like nothing. It was like you two always found your way back. Between the heartbreaks, he'd be there. After the storm was over, he'd be there like a flower waiting for sunlight.

After your first breakup, he appeared like the first night of pleasant dreams after a year of nightmares. Hyunjin was just always there until he wasn't. The spaces in between the time you shared were always spent with other people, almost like you two didn't know how to talk when someone else was around. The world you built was only made for him.

How many more days until your little daydream flitted away like the memories of yesterday morning? You couldn't remember lunch, but you remembered dinner and the after, sitting beside him as his eyes slowly closed, his temple hitting your shoulder.

You didn't dare remind him that he fell asleep intertwined with you in his sheets before slipping out in the morning.

The routine of falling in love with a romantic who wasn't yet ready for you became your weeknights, and it crept into the weekend. Sleeping next to your faux lover, using Monday mornings to figure out what exactly you two were - these were your weeks, and it continued throughout the years.

He wasn't your boyfriend - no, you coiled together, you spoke in a language made for your tongues alone, and when the night fell, all you could see were stars and the moonlight resting on his pillow, ever so intimately resting on his cheeks.

It was always a dreaded question.

What are we?

You never wanted to ask. The question frightened you - you couldn't imagine how much it terrified him. The thought of solidifying what you were to him seemed all too intimidating.

Although.

Maybe I do love him.

And again.

Do I love him?

Saying it out loud was the scariest part. Once it was said out loud, you couldn't take it back. It was there. It was truth. It was matter floating through the air, and it drifted away like a kite to the clouds.

Stepping out of the shower, the moments slowly came back.

Quietly locking his door with the spare key he left under the mat. Catching a taxi back to your small apartment. Falling asleep again on the couch before waking up just as the sun hit the horizon. Washing away the remnants of his scent - though, you could swear it was everywhere - in your hair, on your clothes, forever dancing over your skin like he could never be scrubbed away.

(1 new message - Hyunjin)

Why'd you leave?

You hated it when he did this. You hated him. And you loved him. You hated how he would call, and you couldn't resist saying yes. You hated how he'd say he could only fall asleep when it was next to you. You hated the way he looked at you.

You swore he looked at you like he loved you.

Tossing your phone back onto you bed, you went through the rest of your morning, hoping your next cup of coffee would bring the life back into your face.

Hyunjin always managed to reappear in your life whenever you finally forgot about him. It was like he was waiting. He only wanted you when you didn't belong to anyone else, and yet he never did enough to make you his.

Annoyed.

Aggravated.

Every heated emotion you could feel would course through your veins when you thought about him, yet you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

And you were only ever like that with him.

**

x

He knocked on your door at 3pm.

"Why'd you leave?" He recited straight from his text message, still left with no response on your phone.

You shrugged, letting him walk into your apartment without giving him an answer.

"Did I do something?" He grabbed your hand.

It was like something snapped. The button no one dared to press was suddenly slammed into, and everything came spilling out.

"Why do we only do this when you know I've moved on?" You said, spite glossing over your words almost like you wanted it to hurt. "You knew - you knew I'd finally gotten over my ex, and you called, like it was a routine, you knew I wasn't attached anymore. Why do we still do this?"

Hyunjin's grip on your hand was still steady. "I don't know what you want."

"Honestly, I don't either. Something... not this."

He always pulled you in so effortlessly. When Hyunjin hugged you, he would hold your face in his chest like he wanted you to hear his heart beating. He would nuzzle his face into your neck. It was never forceful, but it kept you still.

You leaned way, keeping him at a small distance. This was the first time he'd ever really seen you bare - no makeup, no filter, no effort to prove you were okay being his "maybe".

How many times can you fall in love with one person?

"Tell me what you want." Hyunjin spoke quietly.

He'd never had problems telling you how he felt about the others, girls who came and went. Superficial relationships that would be dedicated for a month and then no more.

"Tell me what to do - just talk to me."

"That's not something we do." You hissed. "We don't talk - we fuck, and you talk. About your hookups, your relationships, you just go on like it doesn't bother me." Backing away to the wall, you could feel your cheeks burn. "I hate it."

"Do you hate me?"

"Maybe I do." You nodded, you head hanging down. "I hate being this - this thing - this space you use when you need someone. I don't want to be the space between moments - I don't want to be the 'pause' between the girls you fall in love with"

Hyunjin almost looked satisfied with your response. This was the first time you'd gotten angry with him, and he knew it. He knew you held your tongue around him. He wasn't blind. He just wanted you to expose yourself to him. The intimacy was a step through the door, but it wasn't enough to make it home.

"I just - I want -"

Grabbing your shoulders firmly, Hyunjin made you look up at him, tears gripping your eyelashes.

"What do you want?"

The look in his eyes was the look of clarity. He asked this same question, but he had his own answer.

A small pur of a sigh, the motion letting the tears fall one by one. "I don't want to see you with anyone else."

He let you cry for a moment until your breaths were steady again. Stroking your cheek with his thumb, he kissed your forehead. His breath moved through your hair.

"I just want you to stay here." You whispered.

"Okay." He leaned into you, his hands on either side of the wall behind you. "I'll stay."

"But -"

"Whatever you want." Hyunjin's eyes were so close. "I'll stay here forever if you want me to."

"I don't understand."

"If I asked you to be with me when we first met, I thought you'd feel unfulfilled. We were so young, and we hadn't lived our lives yet. I would've been content to be with you until you said you didn't want me anymore. I wanted you to live and be done wandering until you were ready to just be mine and no one else's. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."

The vague childhood jokes Hyunjin used to play on you began to replay themselves behind his words. The times he'd laugh and say "you should date him" - you hated it, but you understood.

"I had to learn how to love other people before I could love you - properly."

He loves me?

"That was the only kind of love you deserved - a proper, complete love. I've done what I needed to do. I made my mistakes, and I took the hard way out of my problems." Hyunjin kissed you sweetly, his lips moving slowly and carefully before pulling away. "I wanted to grow up, so I could love you properly." He rested his forehead on yours, his nose brushing against yours.

His hands gripped your hips firmly before he backed away, letting you see his face clearly.

"Are you ready for me?"

[dreamersscape]

In Which I Attempt to Wreak Havoc Upon Panharmonium's Heart. Or Something.

Because I am an awesome friend, clearly, and possibly making people sad/verklempt is definitely an excellent way to (belatedly 😔 but I did start before the 15th!) celebrate Kakashi's birthday, right? ;)

I will admit up front that this is nowhere near as deftly structured and compiled as your Kakashi fanmix, @panharmonium, but that is precisely why I'm not even going to try to organize all these songs into individual playlists. Yet. Plus, I have a tendency to over-explain so this way I can better expound on why certain songs remind me of certain characters. Sorry that I sorta went a little... overboard?

Everything--except a few that aren't available on spotify, I'll link to them directly--can be listened to HERE.

What I'm Looking For - Brendan Benson | Kakashi → I may be a little biased with this one because it fits SO many of my favorite characters so well, somehow, but there's just something about the upbeat/tongue-in-cheek musical cues/delivery of lines such as 'I visit hell on a daily basis, and I see the sadness in all your faces' that just feels so Kakashi to me.

Happy Ending - MIKA | Kakashi → This is presumably a breakup song, but I enjoy it so much more in a non-romantic context (and the song itself isn't really boxed in with overtly romantic framing, so I appreciate that!). Anyway, some very important instructions IMO for listening to this with Kakashi in mind: everything before the bridge is about Kakashi up through his ANBU years, but when you get to the 'little bit of love' refrain, picture Kakashi meeting Tenzo, and then becoming Team 7's sensei, opening back up to Gai, adopting all the other leaf genin, assimilating Sai and Yamato into Team 7, and it keeps building with Kakashi gaining more and more loved ones to fill the hole in his heart, and then cry tears of joy with me! Just my personal suggestion. :D

Light - Sleeping At Last | Kakashi & Team 7 (/all his kids)

with every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath

→ I've seen this song used for ship vids and I'm all ????? about that because this is clearly a song about the love you have for your child! But I suppose if one of my favorite pastimes is aggressively re-interpreting love songs in non-romantic ways, I can't begrudge the opposite process... too much, lol.

Heroes - MIKA | Team Minato

your blood on me/and my blood on you/but to make you bleed/the only thing I wouldn't do/.../I wish there was a way/to give you a hand to hold/'cause you don't have to die in your glory/die, to never grow old

Long Lost Friends - Transit | Kakashi & Obito

how long/do you have to say that/this is not the person I used to know/you are not the person I used to know/.../because lately, you've been looking at me like you've seen a ghost/and isn't it obvious who's been missing who the most

→ What the heck! What the heck! What the heck! What the heck! What the heck!

Against the Voices - Switchfoot | Kakashi

'cause everybody knows/the hardest war to fight/is the fight to be yourself/when the voices try to turn you into someone else

Out of the Darkness - Matthew and the Atlas | Obito? Yamato? Kakashi? Itachi & Sasuke? Naruto & Kurama? → I'm a bit undecided about this one, or if I should just not worry about choosing one character and just let myself feel all the "inner darkness is not an innate characteristic, Danzo! They're just grieving/in a lot of pain, and they can find their way out of that dark place!" feels.

Save A Place - 1969 | Kakashi & Sasuke

so I'll keep away and save a place for you/and I'll only make the same mistakes as you/.../when all the blood all over your fingers is dried up/the pain will still linger

→ I'm not uber-confident in picking out really fitting Kakashi & Sasuke songs yet, but I hope this hits a lot of the right notes for you. :)

Thrive - Switchfoot | Kakashi

I'm always close, but I'm never enough/I'm always in line, but I'm never in love/I get so down, but I won't give up/I get so down, but I won't give up

→ See, it says right there that he's never in love! Not the crux of the song, and he's not always 'in line' either, but still! :)

Disarm - The Civil Wars | Kakashi & Obito

the years burn, burn, burn

→ I don't know how I keep collecting fictional relationships that work so well for this song, but literally every single line of this song hits so hard for these two?? Will never recover from this. (Also, I usually disregard when 'my love' pops up in the last line of the chorus, as the mood dictates. :) It's pretty incidental as is IMO.)

Renaissance - Paolo Buonvino & Skin | Sakumo & Obito & Kakashi & Naruto

let me show you one last time/let me show you one last sign/you can find it/I can't say that I can change the world/but if you let me, I can make another world for us/let me suffer all for you/make this vision all brand new/we can fight them/I can't say that I can win it all, [but] come with me and I will make my words stand tall

→ Okay, this is a very odd choice given that it's actually the theme song for a different show about the Italian renaissance (if you happen to see this, Mirjam, don't hate me!), but this could be IT! The "those who break the rules are scum, but those who would abandon their friends are worse than scum" anthem that's all about building a better world based on these principles! I really hope our sharing-a-brain talent translates to listening to this song in this way because I am feeling SOME KIND of way about this!

The Lament of Eustace Scrubb - The Oh Hellos | Kakashi → I really liked the song you chose from this album for your fanmix, so now I've feeling a tiny bit too on-the-nose with my choice, but I guess this is just a Kakashi album all around. 😆

Glass Heart Hymn - Paper Route | Kakashi(+ Obito) & Sasuke(+ Itachi)

memories as heavy as a stone/ I am empty, in my end you are my beginning

This Is Home - Switchfoot | Yamato & Kakashi (+ Team 7)

and now, after all my searching/after all my questions/I'm gonna call it home

→ All finding-where-you-belong songs are actually Yamato songs. True story!

Faust, Midas, & Myself - Switchfoot | Obito

you have one life left to leave/you have one life left to lead

→ Could this be any more perfect for Obito? It even has creepy-old-man!Madara!

Pluto - Sleeping At Last | Kakashi

Always Gold - Radical Face | Kakashi & Obito/Sasuke & Itachi/Naruto & Sasuke

all my life, I've never known where you've been/there were holes in you, the kind that I could not mend/and I heard you say, right when you left that day/does everything go away?/yeah, everything goes away/but I'm going to be here till forever/so just call when you're around

→ ...but mostly Kakashi & Obito because 'there were holes in you' 😭😭😭

Lemon Boy - Cavetown | Yamato & Kakashi → You already know the delights of this song of course, but I gots to be comprehensive. :)

Everywhere I Go - Lissie/cover by Sleeping At Last | Kakashi & Team Minato

danger will follow me now everywhere I go/angels will call on me and take me to my home/well, these tired eyes just want to remain closed

→ I chose the Sleeping At Last cover for maximum angst, 'cause sometimes it be like that.

Uneven Odds - Sleeping At Last | Kakashi

maybe your light is a seed, and the darkness the dirt, in spite of the uneven odds, beauty lifts from the earth

→ ...just like an earth style: mud wall :') Okay, okay, bad jokes aside, the seed metaphor of course makes me want to associate it with Tenzo, but this is clearly a Kakashi song!

Twenty-four - Switchfoot | Kakashi & Obito

life is not what I thought it was twenty-four hours ago/and I'm not who I thought I was twenty-four hours ago/still I'm singing spirit, take me up in arms with you/you're raising the dead in me/I wanna see miracles/to see the world change/wrestled the angel for more than a name/for more than a feeling, for more than a cause/I'm singing spirit, take me up in arms with you/and you're raising the dead in me

I'm Still Here (Jim's Theme) - John Rzeznik | Kakashi

and how can they say I never change?/they're the ones that stay the same/.../they can't tell me who to be/'cause I'm not what they see/.../and their words are just whispers/and lies that I'll never believe

→ Yeah, I might've accidentally imprinted on Treasure Planet as a 14 year old, and then someone made sure this song would forever live in my heart by making a fanvid of it with my favorite character from my robin hood show, but! He's still here!

See You Again - Wiz Khalifa (feat. Charlie Puth) | Kakashi & Obito/Team Minato

how can we not talk about family when family's all that we got?/everything I went through, you were standing there by my side/and now you gon' be with me for the last ride

→ I am being very unoriginal here, and there are in fact already fanvids made for these relationships set to this song (along with many others featuring different Naruto relationships), but I don't think I'll be able to rest until I translate the movie playing in my head whenever I hear this song now into an actually watchable format. After all, they have come a long way from where they began, and I intend to make that both as touching and ironically hilarious as possible!

Goodnight, Travel Well - The Killers | Kakashi → Admittedly, I got this idea from a magnificently crafted fanvid done for my robin hood show, but I genuinely think it would be really interesting to make something similar for Kakashi centered around the time he technically died but got better? I don't know how to explain it, but I think it fits quite well.

30 Lives - Imagine Dragons | Kakashi & all the people he's loved and lost → can be listened to here.

A Pound of Flesh - Radical Face | Kakashi

then today I wake up feeling easy/and find I'm on more familiar roads/I got a darkness wrapped inside me/but now it ain't so hard to let it go/so keep a candle burning in the window/I'm almost home

Hold Back The River - James Bay | Kakashi & life getting in the way of him being with his precious people (you may be sensing a pattern here) → @the road of life: Let! Kakashi! And his People! Hold! Each! Other!!! Also, 'tried to square not being there, but think that I should have been' is absolutely about Sasuke's defection and Kakashi adding it to his long list of undeserving self-recriminations.

The Fall - Imagine Dragons | Yamato & Kakashi → 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

Shadowman - K's Choice | could work equally well for Kakashi or Obito, I think

any time tomorrow a part of me will die/and a new one will be born/any time tomorrow/I'll get sick of asking why/sick of all the darkness I have worn/any time tomorrow/I will try to do what's right/making sense of all I can/any time tomorrow I'll pretend to see the light/I just might/.../and doesn't it make you sad?/to see so much love denied/see nothing but a shadowman inside

Paint - The Paper Kites | Kakashi & Team 7

still there's a wound and I'm moving slow/though it don't show, though it don't show/I've got a hole where nothing grows,/how little you know, how little you know

→ A song for just how much Team 7 doesn't know about their sensei.

Always Find Me Here - Transit | Kakashi → ...most likely at the memorial stone. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (why am I like this)

Taste - Sleeping At Last | Kakashi

it’s bittersweet, it’s poetry/a careful pruning of my dead leaves/it’s holy ground, a treasure chest/I'm on my knees and only scratch the surface/like fists unraveling, like glass unshattering/we’re breaking all the rules, we’re breaking bread again/we’re swallowing light ’til we’re fixed from the inside

Help - Hurts | Yamato & Kakashi

take my hand and lead the way/out of the darkness and into the light of the day/.../'cause I know what I've been missing/and I know that I should try/but there's hope in this admission/and there's freedom in your eyes/.../I can feel the darkness coming/and I'm afraid of myself/call my name and I'll come running/'cause I just need some help

→ NO ONE TOUCHE ME.

Your Soul - RHODES | A mish-mash of Kakashi & Tenzo and Rin & Obito & Kakashi and Gai & Kakashi vibes? → So like, 'oh you know when you're alone/I'm holding on and on and on and on/to your soul' reminded me of your 'when you're all alone...the only thing you really think about is dying' 'but when there are two of you...the only thing you can think about is surviving.' and now kakashi - who just saved his life - is asking him 'did you want to die' and yamato is saying 'no' there are two of them and yamato wants to SURVIVE. tags as well as Gai's steadfastness as a friend, and 'I just wanna hold your hand' made me think of Rin's "Well then, I'm just going to have to connect the two of you." while holding their hands, and the sunlight/'soul shine'/'your light' motif is just A Lot in this song!!

7 Years - Lukas Graham | Kakashi → Alright, yeah, there are already approximately a gazillion pre-existing Naruto AMVs for this song and even one or two focusing on Kakashi, but they don't capitalize on all the angst possibilities in many of the lyrics or reach the fluff potential of 'will I think the world is cold or will I have a lot of children who can warm me [when I'm old]' and I cannot abide that!

Putting The Dog To Sleep - The Antlers | Kakashi & Sasuke → Okay, on one hand, this song is One Big Oof. But I do like the (potentially odd) way I've conceptualized it for Kakashi & Sasuke? Like, the first half is Kakashi going through all the tragedies in his life and getting lost in ANBU, but then in the second half it transitions to him wanting to prevent Sasuke from having to be as alone as Kakashi once was and they can face life together? It makes me emotional!

Trust Me - The Fray | Kakashi & Obito

I found a friend, or should I say a foe?/said there's a few things you should know/we don't want you to see/we come, and we go/here today, gone tomorrow

→ There are a few lines that call Tenzo & Kakashi to mind, but mostly it's Obito & Kakashi.

The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends?) - Snow Patrol | Kakashi → I had to, right? My mindscape is a little murky/scattered about what specifically I want to think about when I listen to this, but obviously it has to do with Kakashi in one way or another.

Kettering - The Antlers | Team Minato(???) → Honestly not sure if this will make any sense, but yeah, vague team minato vibes?

Swans - Unkle Bob | Kakashi & Obito/Rin/Minato/Kushina/Sakumo → They should be by his side always!!!

Looking Too Closely - Fink | Kakashi → I honestly feel rather ambivalent about this one too, but I can't deny 'truth is like blood underneath your fingernails/and you don't wanna hurt yourself, hurt yourself/looking too closely' always destroys me because... well, you know. I love suffering. :(

Souvenirs - Switchfoot | Kakashi & Obito & Rin

wolves - Switchfoot | Kakashi

snowfall for the battlefield/roses for the father's sons/see them red on the ground:/bleeding/when the revolution came/we were more than hungry men/we were hoping for more:/bleeding/end. begin again./all of my world is collision and spin/hope is a world that has yet to begin/awaken, oh sleeper/awaken, oh sleeper/a new day begins

→ I wanted a wolf-related song too. :)

PRODIGAL SOUL - Switchfoot | Obito, Itachi, & Sasuke; just all them wayward Uchiha boys

Coming Down - Dear Euphoria | kid!Kakashi & his relationships

the shell/that I wore/it wasn't for fun/it wasn't to make you/stick around/it was for survival/it was what I've learnt/it was for the sun/.../our love has grown/our love has flown

→ Another one I'm a little unsure of whether it makes sense outside of my head or not, but I like the vibes?

Ghosts That We Knew - Mumford & Sons | Kakashi & Yamato? → Hmm, can I maybe submit this as a Kakashi-&-Yamato-just-need-to-mske-it-through-this-war-so-they-can-have-a-bright-bright-future song?

All Is Well (It's Only Blood) - Radical Face | Kakashi → ...he said as he's bleeding out or after he's thrown himself in the line of fire protecting someone he thinks is a better person than himself...

Bleeding Out - Imagine Dragons | Kakashi

when the hour is nigh/and hopelessness is sinking in/and the wolves all cry/to fill the night with hollering/when your eyes are red/and emptiness is all you know/with the darkness fed/I will be your scarecrow/you tell me to hold on/oh, you tell me to hold on/but innocence is gone/and what was right is wrong

→ In a similar vein to the previous song. But goodness gracious! Were they NOT straight up describing Kakashi here?

Amaryllis - Shinedown | Yamato & Kakashi → Just tossing this one out there, not sure if it will make sense or if it's a reach... but I like it?

lost 'cause - Switchfoot | Kakashi & Sasuke

are we a lost cause?/or are we just lost 'cause/we won't be the future we refuse to see?/and if I'm your lost cause/it'll be your lost 'cause/you won't see me as I am, the possibility/that I'm not the enemy

→ 214 feels. (And before and after that, but yeah.)

Through the Ghost - Shinedown | Kakashi & Obito

so many silent sorrows/you never hear from again/and now that you've lost tomorrow/is yesterday still a friend?/.../everything that mattered is just/a city of dust/covering both of us/did you hide yourself away?/I can't see you anymore/.../did you hide yourself away?/are you living through the ghost?/did you finally find a place/above the shadows so the world will never know?/the world will never know you like I do ... like I still do

Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men | Kakashi → Just Kakashi having little chats with his ghosts, totally the most heartwarming way to conclude this section. 😅

Sleepyhead - Passion Pit | Kakashi → Just kidding! Here's a slightly less morbid song for the Most Tired Boy Of Them All.™ (Random aside: this was my customary song to listen to on my walks to 8AM organic chemistry classes; I found it strangely soothing! On a different occasion, after a particularly long day for her, one of my roommates didn't have the energy to make it to her bed but nevertheless requested a lullaby from us. So I obliged by playing this song for her, but she didn't seem to gain the same peace of mind from it as I did. 😄 I know it's not my place to propose anything like this, but it does amuse me to imagine bookends!Kakashi in these situations, even though it's not OChem classes he has to go to.)

General/Miscellaneous:

Rise Above It - Switchfoot | Ensemble

don't care what they're telling me/we can be what we want to be/.../just because it's law doesn't mean that it's fair/.../don't believe the system's on your side/.../the curse is spoken/the system's broken; rise above it

→ I mean, how could I not think about Naruto when this song also has the lines 'hear us sing tonight like the last night on earth/we will rise like the tide/like dead men coming back to life/we are rising, rising'? It's fun to be literal sometimes!

Doorways - Radical Face | Allllll the traumatized children → Someone has to put all those tragic childhood flashbacks to good use, after all.

Ghost Towns - Radical Face | take your pick of Itachi, Sasuke, or Post-Kannabi-Bridge!Obito

there's no comin' home/with a name like mine/I still think of you/but everyone knows/yeah everyone knows/if you care, let it go

Blinding Light - Switchfoot | Hey, Hiruzen? You may have coined the phrase, "children are the king" but I don't think you truly understand it... (insert Princess Bride joke here)

hey boy, don't believe them/we're the nation that eats our youth/.../still looking for the blinding light/still looking for the reason why/still looking for the sun to shine/all my life I've been living in the darkest night/still looking for the blinding light/to take me higher and higher

Brother's Blood - Kevin Devine | EVERYONE → ...but certainly so much you could do with Itachi & Sasuke, Obito & Kakashi, Shisui & Itachi, even Hashirama & Madara! Sakumo's teammates turning their backs on him and saying 'I don't know one thing about my brother's blood'?!?! There are SO MANY ideas I have for this song! It gives me chills and makes my brain scream.

We Need Each Other - Sanctus Real | Ensemble → Already mentioned this one to you, but I have to include it here for thoroughness' sake!

Whispering - Alex Clare | the Hidden Leaf's lost/ostracized children/orphans

who will care for the falling?/who will care for the falling leaves?

So this is probably a strange concept to come up with and apply to this song, but the 'whispering, whispering, whispering' parts brought Konaha's virulent gossiping/passing judgement about others and often kids they don't even know problem to mind, too, and yeah?

The World You Want - Switchfoot | Ensemble → If I were to make a fanvid set to this song, I would definitely keep a broad focus, but I can't deny that the lines 'you start to look like what you believe, you float through time like a stream, if the waters of time are made up by you and I, I could change the world for you, you change it for me' FOR SURE has strong Obito & Kakashi/Kakashi & Tenzo vibes.

Red Eyes - Switchfoot | Ensemble, but definitely many dashes of Uchihas 😄 → I would like to thank Masashi Kishimoto for creating a world where red eyes are a Thing of Importance so I can one day make a fanvid using this song in not just the tired or teary bloodshot-red eyes way, but in a very literal sense too.

TAKE MY FIRE - Switchfoot | The Will of Fire → 'Cause I think I'm sooooo clever. 😄

Above The Clouds Of Pompeii - Bear's Den | various parent & child relationships → This obviously derives from the not-caring-about-your-female-characters problem, but it always gets me that all the single parents in the Naruto universe are almost invariably the fathers! I guess sometimes you can safely guess that the mothers are still alive/exist, but either way we hardly ever get to see them. :/ The one exception I can think of right now is Kurenai, but maybe I'm forgetting another conspicuous single mother. Anyway, I don't know if this helps or hinders more a potential Naruto fanvid for this song, but regardless, it still gives me feelings?

Who We Are - Switchfoot | Ensemble → It just makes me inordinately happy that the chorus for this song starts with 'who we are (in the fever of our youth)', you know? :D

Brother - Kodaline | all the friendships we can stuff in here and then some → Quite a well known song I'm pretty sure, but I love how many dynamics one could showcase in a potential fanvid of this. And, not gonna lie, 'oh brother, we go deeper than the ink beneath the skin of our tattoos' deserves to be used in some sort of Tenzo 'n' Kakashi or Team Ro fan creation!

Special Bonus:

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine | Kakashi & Obito → I'm not sure whether I would have realized how well this works for Kakashi & Obito on my own, funnily enough, but then I found this fanvid of it (containing only scenes you've seen naturally!) and it hit me like a ton of bricks. It's so well done!

[cherryblossomtease]

Part 6a

18+ only

warnings summary masterlist

~Castle Zemo~

If a place could have a personality, this one would be as bold as the man who owns it.

You stand before the ancient structure, dwarfed by the rising towers and walls of stone. Only moments ago you thought the portcullis was the grandest thing you’d ever seen as the carriage brought you through, but now that you stand in the gravel drive, peering up at the castle which has stood since nearly the founding of Sokovia, it hits you heavy as a keystone, your life has truly changed forever.

“It’s incredible,” You manage when Helmut comes up behind you. “I don’t know what else to say really.” You try to count the turrets but it’s too hard in the dark and there are too many.

He stands at your side looking up, the fur of his coat turned high against the evening winds and you don’t even try to guess what he’s thinking. The man has years of memories built up behind these thick walls. “Say nothing, say everything, whatever you wish Baroness it is yours.” He says and smiles down at you.

The servants are standing to the side and you follow his lead going to greet them. Honestly you expect to be met with some hostility. Most of the serving class don’t take kindly to anyone attempting to rise above their station any better than those who employ them, but instead you are welcomed with accented hello’s as the butlers and footmen bow while the maids and kitchen girls curtsy. You meet each face with a smile and take the hand of your new and first Lady’s maid hoping you will have a good relationship. You’ll need a friend without Brigitte here and this one is the closest you’ll have.

“The fire is strong tonight my Lord. No chill will break through those old stone walls.”Says the old man at the head of the line. His English is a little hard to understand but you appreciate that he speaks it for your sake.

“Very good Oeznik” Helmut says clapping the butler on the shoulder. “We’ll eat in the small dining room and retire, it’s been a long journey. My wife and I— the Baroness.” Both men look back at you. “Are very tired.”

“Of course my Lord.”

You smile and bow to Oeznik forgetting that you’re not meant to but he doesn’t correct you, Instead he welcomes you home.

Once you’ve finished eating and Helmut has given you a fairly brisk tour of the castle by candlelight, you follow him up the center staircase as wide as the theatre stage to the halls upstairs. You feel dizzy and a little on edge by the time he stops at the heavy wooden doors of the room you will share. It is beautiful and grand, but you get a sense of ghostly eyes peering back at you from every dark corner, as though you are not alone inside this medieval dwelling.

It will take some time getting used to such a life, but you will try. For now you follow your husband closely inside.

Expecting something rather stark and cheerless, you are pleasantly surprised to find the room glowing warm with the fire, the bed piled high with pillows and wrapped with a shining silk duvet. There are chairs that look perfect for reading in the corner, a beautiful settee in font of the fire, and a large carpet to keep your feet warm. The walls are painted a deep and calming bluish green from floor to ceiling, moulding included, and you find the far wall of windows to be absolutely glorious. You can see the moon no matter where you are in the room.

“Helmut it’s beautiful.”

He is watching you, smiling, pleased to see that you are.

“I’ve always liked it.”

“It’s hard to imagine that you actually grew up here, that any one can grow up in such a magnificent place.”

He shrugs a little as if he’s never considered it, but then he’s never known anything else. “Perhaps.”

“I would have gotten lost so many times.” You say with a laugh.

“Lost, no, but there are many places to hide” He says sitting on the little bench at the end of the bed “Often, I would have to send the nurse to hunt Carl down, he would find places even I had never discovered.”

You turn, surprised to hear his son’s name. He’s said it once before and you’re certain it was a mistake then, he hadn’t been ready to share it with you so you’d only given him an understanding smile and steered the conversation in another direction. But now; you know it is the right time and place to speak of the child and the happy life they once had here, even if only for a moment.

You go to him, sliding your hands over his shoulders, standing between his legs. “It’s a beautiful place to watch a boy grow. You should speak of him often, his memory lives on with you Helmut, and in time, when you are ready and if we are able, perhaps you will have more sons—and daughters to chase after.”

His eyes dart up studying your face. At first he seems distant, afraid to put himself in that position of vulnerability, but as his gaze wanders down from your eyes to your lips and below, he softens and sighs. Of course he wants this. The part of him that still aches for what he’s lost has been slowly mending over time and as you promised to love him until you draw your last breath in that little country church, you had sewn the final stitch.

He is ready.

Without warning the door opens and both Hilda, your Lady’s maid and the old man Oeznik come in which is surprising to exactly no one but you.

You look back at Helmut wide eyed but he just smiles and shrugs, rising up from the bench.

"Brandy my Lord?" The butler asks coming to him.

"Not tonight Oeznik, thank you." Helmut answers, excusing himself to go and stand in the center of the room. He puts his arms out and his dinner jacket is removed with quick and careful precision.

"My Lady." Hilda says kindly.

You jump to attention having been mesmerized by the sight of a man undressing another. "Oh, yes... um. Yes?"

Hilda smiles and shows you how to stand as she helps you with your traveling clothes. She is impressive and works so quickly you can only give yourself over to her skill looking back at the Baron and pulling a face of concession that makes him laugh.

"It's good to see you happy again sir." You overhear Oeznik say as he pulls the Barons vest off.

Helmut just smiles and nods, crossing the room so that Oeznik may remove his cufflinks and place them in the dressing table drawer.

"Would you like me to help you into your nightgown my Lady?" She asks while it's just the two of you "Or would you like the Baron to do it?"

Snapping your head around, your eyes dart back to find Hilda's, sparkling in the firelight with just a spot of mischief in them. It makes you smile and relax a little. "It's all right, I've got something nice on underneath. Just help me out of this?" You answer and she gives a firm nod reaching for the ribbon around your neck but you turn quickly, your hands going protectively around the velvet. "No, please. L-Leave it." You mutter unable to look her in the eye.

She quickly bows her head looking at the floor. "Forgive me my Lady." She must know, but you don't want to think about it, not now.

"It's fine. Just, don't touch it please." You say awkwardly and turn around letting her undress you in silence.

By the time she's done and collecting your shed clothes, you thank her for her help wanting nothing more than to get past it. Hilda dips and looks up, her little smile showing that there are no hard feelings between you.

Smiling as you watch her slip away; the door shutting with a click behind her, you sigh and look around the beautiful room, the only sound the crackle of the roaring fire.

Helmut is waiting. He glances over at you from his place beside the bed, rubbing his hands together as he is in the habit of doing. He looks down with a smile. "Come here" He says amused that you are still standing so far away.

You pad over —that lovely rug like a cloud under your feet— until you are standing in front of him, closer to naked in your pretty cotton shift than you have ever been with any man before.

You are aware of how your nipples brush the nearly sheer fabric and how the feeling between your legs seems to spread like a little spark setting off a fire that makes your skin hot to the touch. Helmut is not the only one ready for this. You have wanted him for so long.

Your hair hangs free of the many pins to keep it up and he brushes it back over your shoulders. His fingertips graze along your bare collar bones as he admires the way your shift barely clings to your arms. Reaching for your hand, Helmut raises it up to kiss your fingers, holding your one hand with both of his. “You’re shaking,” He says stroking gently, his deep voice making you nearly crave him in spite of being afraid. You blush and look away. “I’ll add more to the fire.” He suggests.

“No, the fire is perfect.” You answer glancing back at the hearth large enough for more than one man to stand in.

Helmut looks down at you, gently hooking his finger around your chin, turning your head to face him again. His smile is sympathetic “I think I understand.”

You draw your lip between your teeth only for him to tug at your chin freeing it; now a dark and slightly wet pink. He strokes your plump lip and you lean forward just the slightest bit, kissing his thumb, your eyes rising up to meet his.

He makes a soft, low sound, something like a moan that fades into a sigh and slides his hands up and into your hair, holding your head still as he kisses you. He moves his body closer, pressing his hips against you letting you feel the exact effect you have on him and you can not help the way your eyes open going a little wide. You try to move away but he takes you by both arms.

“It’s all right.” He says, looking so soft in the deep orange glow. “Don’t be afraid of me mala ptica ” His husky voice in contrast to the warmth of his face. “And I promise I'll try not to hurt you.”

Your eyes dart up just as he kisses you.

[thelure]

ERNIE MACMILLAN: AN APP

so this is an app for one, ernie macmillan, on a time clash site (i promise i don't only rp hp but i've been in a nostalgic mood). anyway, i am posting it here because i'm proud i finished it (lol) and because i've had so much anxiety about my writing, if anyone ends up reading this for fun please tell me what you think <3

i.

who are you anyway? a macmillan, so they say. but you aren’t one, not really.you bare another name, secretly hold it close to your chest. they might find it burnt into your bones but they would have to skin you for it first, you’ll be damned.so who are you? a macmillan, or so your mother says. it is up for you to choose but do you have a choice? not really.for who would willingly choose a father that refused to let your mother hyphen your surname? nothing but a shame on your paternal family’s house, on their pure blooded legacy, all because you were born a bastard before marriage. but weren’t they betrothed anyway?weren’t they getting married? mother reasons that it’s not so bad, that she had tried to love your father but couldn’t.mother reasons that it’s not so bad because for all her trying at least she got you.you’ve never been able to ask that big question: why. why couldn’t she love him? why wouldn’t he love her? but you think you understand that cold, hard, faraway look that glistens in her eyes when she talks about your father. the way her eyebrows furrow with a fierce determination. you think you understand that she was too good for your father. in more ways than one. so, who are you?ernest. ernie.pride is a fickle thing if you haven’t got the self-esteem for it and you’ve never had that problem. no. not you. for what better way to spite the family that rejects you? what’s really wrong with you anyway? just a bastard pureblood, raised by your single mother, but really, what’s wrong with that? for there was really no shame in the name ‘macmillan’ no matter what room it was you walked into. macmillans are truly not used to being anything outside of well liked and prominent. as far back as wizarding society could remember, only your untraditional birth is the ink stain on a perfectly fresh parchment. what’s wrong with being macmillan when it means you could walk into a room a black may be occupying while chatting with a werewolf — if the company might have pleased you — and toujours pur would still maybe even give you a quick hello under that nasty breath.(pride is what you hold on to as if it’s the last thing you do. you walk with your head high, you walk with your back straight. you move crisp and fluid, unaffected like a thick skinned boar.)mother’s love has always been enough. tall and willowy, gaunt faced mother who loves linen cloth and muggle records and wearing sheer glitter on her eyelids. who always smells like soap and fresh lilacs. who’s smile is as golden sweet as honey. as a small child you loved to watch her arrange flowers in a vase, freshly cut from her own garden, and the way she’d concentrate so hard the tip of her tongue poked out the side of pink lips. you sat there perched with one of her old first year books but it’s really her you study. engraving every inch of the moment down to the golden hour sun setting alight her hair through the window because you always wanted to remember this:to remember the way mother was always giving and good natured. to remember that she never walked around with a chip on her shoulder, holding grudges. that she was always considerate even to the tiny petals of the flowers she loved so much, ensuring that not even the limpest of them were ever mishandled.to remember how you swore to yourself every time in such moment, that you would always be her son. dutifully. that you were always going to choose to be the kind of man that made that kind of mother proud. you love your mother dearly, for all that she has done for you. so you choose to be macmillan.(not like you had a choice.)

ii.

if only you knew what i had been through, if you knew, you would rejoice too.but it’s hard. to look back and remember the beginning. such a peaceful, hopeful beginning, full of love and the addictive buzzing of an excited, thrumming heart. it’s a struggle but with a bit of effort — with a bit of conviction and sincerity — and the ghost of your mother’s smile, it comes back to you.(almost.)the moments that remind you what you’re living for.to remember that dark haired boy who couldn’t seem to quite make it past the first step on the hogwarts express, the panicked look he’d shoot to those behind him. waiting. watching. how it brought a smile to your own. for you were nervous too but you were always much more brave. much more prideful. you push through the older and the taller and when he makes another attempt to step down back on the platform you place the palm of your hand on the small of his back. firm but kind and encouraging. “up you go now, next foot forward. you don’t want the train to leave without you.”it’s your mother’s way of speech that comes out of your tiny mouth but it seems to be what he needs to continue moving. justin finch-fletchley. it rolls off your tongue. not as your mother’s words but your own that feel almost like a stranger to you. justin finch-fletchley. you repeat his name back to him before introducing your own. you repeat his name over and over again in your mind. it rolls around as you look into soft, kind eyes and you smile so hard it makes you both blush. you think before you know, before it truly manifests itself, that you would like to stay by his side forever.( he is beautiful. not like you. you who have become sharp and angular. you who bares scars, some uglier than others and the memory that for all your wounds, you’ve still seen worse. and maybe he has too. maybe his scars are hidden in his breastbone like the name you secretly carry. but he is beautiful, not like you. soft and gentle and like the foggy glow of a full moon reflecting in a midsummer night’s lake. and his eyes. somehow, through it all, his glittering, kind eyes stayed the same and you fear most that when he looks back at you he sees something different. something that’s changed. that something which has been lost to you. and yet nothings lost, not really. not when his eyes are fixed on yours and his body is so close. when despite all the metallic sweat and blood and dust, his lips are so sweet and warm— the only thing you taste. and finally— finally, you know he’s alive and you’ve got him in your arms and without even having to think, you know that from now on, you’ll be by his side forever. )if only you knew what i had been through, if you knew, you would rejoice too.but it's hard.hard to rejoice in the now when you remember what you had done it all for. the memories don’t come back in night terrors but rather like this: when the caressing summer breeze, folds around your face and the sun peaks out into a blue sky, so warm and so welcoming, it’s light seeps through to the bone and wraps around your soul. the innocent sound of laughter from children no older than eleven, the buzzing excitement of first time wands and school robes rings through your ears and one accidentally bumps into you sending their ice cream cup flying so you offer to buy them a new one. and like a flood it comes back. knocks the very breath right out of you and suddenly you are back on hogwarts grounds and right in front of you is a child, eleven. a child being punished with the cruciatus curse and your body moves faster than your brain can think, faster than your wand hand can jinx, and collides with a carrow. hands with a mind of it’s own shoving a face into wet dirt. a righteous fury burning in your heart. a group of first years silently horrified. like fighting through thick fog you blink your way back into the present but the glaze that covers your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed and you can feel them watching you when you awkwardly stumble away — with the ringing of screams in your ears and the pulseless wrists of the bodies you check on

your fingers and the smell of metallic blood in your nose as you help heal the wounded — because it is not your name they know or remember. and you don’t blame them. you’re not prideful any more anyway and you’re not bitter because for all your scars, you’ve seen worse.if only you knew what i had been through, if you knew, you would rejoice too that you're still here amongst the living.

iii.

bones stretch against hard surface that is as cool as the marble statues that haunt the old macmillan estate. hot flesh stings from the chill so that the sweat stuck to your back starts to make you shiver. you had sworn you could do this. where had that little boy gone? you swore that you were fine, strong enough to follow the seasons into the icy winter where wildflowers died waiting to be reborn. redefined with the melting renewal of spring. you got stuck in the winter of your life.( and how dare you feel this way, what gives you the right? how selfish and miserable it makes you feel when you know it could all have been worse. much worse. when you know how fortunate you are that at least justin and hannah and susan are breathing, and ginny, neville and luna, and god— harry! thank god for harry, who suffered most of all. )healing is a hard, thankless work and you feel the weight of lives in the bags of your eyes and in the bag you once called your body. and there you are scared to close them even for a moment because they are heavy and you fear you might not wake up again. for while you wrestle with the lives of the living, you feel like you're walking amongst ghosts. the resting of eyes so tempting and sweet, you could keep your body there: propped up against the walls of st. mungo’s where you melt under pressure and remain but a ghost along with them. he was cut out for this. you? you don’t know who you are anymore or where that little boy has gone. and all you want to do is cry out for mother (hold her a little bit, feel the stroke of her gentle long fingers, her soft voice as sweet as her honey sweet smile vibrating from her chest as your head rests on her shoulder, mother who would know exactly what to say) but you know she won’t hear you being just another ghosts too. one more casualty of war, a death kept close to your chest. he was cut out for this. you? what happened to you?where did you go?back to where you could feel the presence of mother in search of some peace of mind. back to the dusty boarded up shop, strategically placed right before diagon alley gives way to knockturn, where you begin to clean up the last of the aftermath of war in your life. the one thing you had yet to touch because it had hurt too much to see it. hurt to see the dried blood left over on bits of broken glass because she had not gone easily, your mother. and you try your best not to think of your father as you sweep up the dust and pieces of wood, or what he would have thought upon hearing the news. you don’t want to know which of the bastards had done it, try not to think of how many there had been to come calling once she’d been found out for helping muggleborns flee the country. most of all, as you fix the apothecary your mother left behind, you ignore the nagging thought in your head that maybe he had been here too.( in fact you try hard not to think of him at all. he’s always been a fragment rather than a memory. a looming presence like the dark side of the moon to which you know is there but as they say— out of sight out of mind. and what had he ever done for you to occupy a space in your mind anyway outside of conflicting you with a deep sense of loathing and a burning need to prove yourself better off. what had he given you other than small fragments, not real memories of being around for a christmas or two, and maybe he had taught you how to read on one of those occasions. been the one to show you that you pause for a breath after a ‘period��� so that your sentences weren’t all monotone and run on. but what did he really give you aside of a deep sense of shame?and possibly a memory, not just a fragment, of being the one thing that could always make your mother cry. )so what happened to you, where did you go?back to where love was more than a distant memory. something you knew of once in your past. for not even the soothing waves of the ocean that sing you lullabies and glitter against light like an omnipresent beacon could have given you such peace as this kind of love.where he smells like wildflowers and wet

earth in your bed and has a smile that is so warm and sweet, warmer and sweeter than even honey, that it feels like you’re being kissed by fresh spring sunlight after a dark, bitter winter whenever he fixes up the corners of his mouth. how could life be so pure with him that even the sight of the smallest potted succulent could have made your heart do flips. how come every place you went all you thought of was him. how he would like this and how he would want that. how was it possible that loving someone this way could have tempered your soul and suddenly you saw more — in everyone, young and old, every walking soul — of what people needed. you wanted to be kind like he was, much softer than someone like you could have been brought up to be. you wanted to smile at a stranger, to warm their heart and make their day, through the love that he has given you. it is not me you see but the man who loves me.justin finch-fletchley. (you’ll never forget that moment you saw him from across the great hall. how your body was ready to break and your heart swelled so large that it hurt inside your chest because there he was. brave and beautiful and my god- alive! you had spent every single day — waking and sleeping — thinking about the last time you’d seen him. how you watched his back until it disappeared in the train station with all the words you wanted to say boiling at the tip of your tongue and your hands tingling because they had wanted so badly to grab him and shake him and call him a fool, didn’t he know that it was all going to be different? couldn’t he sense that all your lives where about to change? but instead you watched him, silently let him go. and it dug in your brain like the worst, most sour kind of memory. and for every pain a carrow could have inflicted on you, it never felt worse than that image of watching his back fade away. but there he was brave and beautiful and my god— alive. and as your body had moved towards him you swore you would never leave his side. that you would stay there forever.)you think— you feel, as you put the pieces of your mother’s shop back together, that life should be simple like this. you had figured out that sometimes you could do more outside of the ministry and even further, you realized that sometimes you could heal others without healing work. sometimes you could heal them with some love, some kindness from a stranger.

iv. “give us a peace equal to the war or else our souls will be unsatisfied, and we will wonder what we have fought for and why the many died… “ - langston huges

you feel strange as you struggle to wake up from a dream that felt so tangible and real and you could have sworn that your fingers had been gripping justin’s hand— or was it susan’s? maybe hannah’s? with elation and excitement before the gravity that tethered you to the world breaks, pings melodically like the thread of a unicorn hair ripping apart, and your foot breaks through cement into a veil, like you are slipping through the crack of a sidewalk and it all goes dark. fuzzy. what had you been dreaming that felt so real? and why does your body feel so strange. knees burning with a sharp pain, spine twisted, a forearm pressing into a headboard so unfamiliar and yet too familiar. where did it go? this dream. why was everything in your mind so foggy and why does your heart feel so desperate like something is wrong. like something has been lost when finally all the pieces you’d been trying to pick up were reshaping into something exciting and new. you feel unfamiliar and familiar at the same time and it’s that familiarity which fills you with further dread. you stretch out old bones too big for the bed it’s curled up upon and instantly know where you are. home. and now you reason this must be it. this is the dream and you must have fallen asleep (so weird). so vivid and real but how else could you explain the unmistakable sound of the pan sizzling in a distant kitchen, and the sound of joni mitchell’s 'blue' album skipping where the vinyl was scratched, and the sound of your mother’s voice humming along. sweet as ever but off key like a little bird chirping at the wrong time of day. you stretch out your bones and your whole body cracks and that dread that you’ve been feeling seeps into where they’ve popped but you can’t help yourself. you must see it to the end. you jump up quickly, your childhood room not being spared a glance (but you wouldn’t have recognized it anyway if you had really taken a look and maybe that was for the better because it would have frightened you) and you run for that sound. the sound of home. of mother. and you tell yourself, very convincing of a job you do, rationalizing that you are trapped in a dream regardless of how it all feels so real. as real as the other dream. but which one is which? and your mother? her eyebrows frozen in a furrow at the sound of your footsteps tumbling through the house. the sound of a man’s body lumbering through. and the moment your eyes lay upon her you think, yes, it must be true. so your heart forgets that dread it had been feeling because she’s here. with you in this place. because you are home and you missed her so dearly. but her body feels too real, her heart hammering against your chest when in a thoughtless, childlike moment you hug her. you cry on her shoulder and you cry out the name ‘mother’ with such mournful sorrow she jerks away and it dawns on you she’s real. that she’s real but you’re real. but what does that mean? and oh, god— where is justin?

[jisunwithtaeandkookie]

I walked home in the cold night, it having been a busy day at work. Well, not exactly busy, just weird: all kinds of people came in everyday. Today a girl came in looking all kinds of confused, and the reason, which she told when I asked, was weird too: she was worried she was going to mess her order up. That's like the safest thing to mess up if you know my story, I very clearly remembered thinking to myself at that moment.

I pulled my coat closer to me as I walked more swiftly. It was a really cold night.

It had been a very uneventful week for me, and by uneventful I meant quiet. I didn't really have any friends here, all my friends were back in my hometown. Well, I had friends here, but I actually didn't deserve to call them my friends anymore.

I passed by a building with a big screen on it, and being displayed on the screen was the group which everyone gave their full attention to and I was trying to avoid.

I stopped, focusing my gaze on the screen.

Looking at their happy faces gave me a sense of happiness and then nostalgia. I wondered if they were okay. I wondered, because I actually didn't know..I couldn't. Over the past week, I had tried to find out, but it hadn't gone exactly as I planned. All because every one of those seven had a different opinion, a different way of looking at things. It was both a gift and a curse for me, as there were some people who didn't want to see or talk to me, and some who wanted to but at the same time didn't want to, while there were also some who didn't blame me at all.

Were they going to be okay?

The picture on the screen changed, and now it showed the picture of a recently debuted but very famous girl group. I smiled as I stared at the picture of the gorgeous looking girls: were they having a bad day as me, or did they have no trouble at all?

"What a coincidence." I heard a voice beside me, and immediately recognised my best friend's voice. Hearing it gave me mixed emotions...for a second I didn't know how to react, or what I should do. They don't even teach this stuff in schools; it's all French Revolution and all kinds of different equations which, by the way, are going to have no use in everyday life in spite of what our teachers say. This is what they should teach. This is the important stuff.

"Kookie." I decided to turn around and look at him. He had a cap on which covered half of his face (oh, so he was intending to go incognito) which he immediately pushed up to reveal his whole face, showing a look of surprise evident on his sharp features.

"Y/N-ah!" He said, his voice a little dull. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you knew I was here." I frowned.

"No I just...stopped to look." He looked back up at the screen with the girl group displaying on it. Oh, so that was what he stopped for, not for me. Not everything is about you, you know. I was such a selfish person sometimes.

I looked at the screen, following his gaze, before dropping my gaze down to him after a second. "See something you like?"

He gave a dull, emotionless laugh, looking down. "Not something I like," he looked up at me. "But yeah, now I do."

"Is everything good between you guys?" The question came out involuntarily, and I was dumbfounded at how socially inept I was. "I'm sorry if that question is awkward to answer at the moment." I said, trying to correct myself.

"No, it's not." He replied.

"Did you...answer my question or my apology?"

He looked sideways. "Both, actually."

"I'm sorry." I said, not knowing what else to say. My eyes began to water.

"Stop saying that now, really." He said, stepping closer. "Don't blame yourself too much. Why don't you give yourself a break?" He gave me a brief smile.

"I will when all of you are okay." I said. He opened his mouth but closed it back after a second, sighing.

"Will you?" I asked again.

"We will." He looked back up at the screen which was showing the picture of BTS again. "We'll be okay."

"How are you so sure?" I asked. "Did they forgive you?"

He shook his head. "No, but...I don't know, we just will. Somehow."

I smiled. "Because you aren't a group...you're family."

He smiled, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, we are." He cocked his head to the side, letting his normal, childish self come out a little. "I'd like to believe that, but...I just don't know, Chocolate. I don't know if things are ever going to be like they used to. Even if everything's okay...I don't know if it's going to be like before."

The look in his eyes was killing me; I hadn't seen him as sad as this ever before. He had lost his hyungs, who had made him what he was today; I had so easily taken it all away from him. Even though I didn't know this many secrets were being hidden in the group, I was the centre of all this: the root cause of all the branching problems.

"It will...I promise you." I gulped down the tears that were choking my throat. "Once I leave your lives." I whispered slowly.

"Chocolate, you can't-"

"I'm sorry Kookie, I have to." I smiled ruefully. "This is the only way. It's either me, or them."

"Don't make me choose, Y/N. I can't."

"I'm not making you choose. I'm telling you they are more important right now, and I'm saying we need to take a break from our friendship."

"I can't live without you, Chocolate." He said. His eyes were watering up as well. "I can't live without you telling me how your day went, I can't live without you calling me in the middle of the night because you had this crazy idea for a prank. I can't live without you telling everyone about my embarrassing moments in high school while I try to shut your mouth up. I can't live without you pestering me everyday about any girl I look at, and I can't live with the fact that I can't talk to you in my darkest moments..when I need you, you won't be there...I can't live with that." His voice cracked.

"I'm not going anywhere, Kook." I smiled a little between the tears that were starting to fall down. "I promise you, I'll be here. I'll message you everyday...I'll tell you about how my day went, I'll tell you about every idea that I have. I'll ask you every question that I have. But...you just can't message me back."

"Y/N-" he gasped.

"This is not a request, Kook." I said in a stern yet soft tone. "Promise me."

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, Y/N...I'll do it for my best friend."

I smiled. He returned it back, and stepped forward. He was going to give me a hug, I knew it.

"Jungkook...here you are! I've been looking all over for you." Tae's voice came from behind, and I immediately turned my back to him. "What's taking you so long?" My lower lip quivered as I couldn't control my emotions at hearing his voice.

"I was just looking at...that." Jungkook pointed at the picture on the screen, which had changed back to the other group.

"SEAZONS...hmm..well, I wish hyung was here to see this." Tae laughed a little. I bit my lip to keep myself from breaking down; I longed to talk to my friend, to my Taehyung.

Jungkook looked at me for a second, not letting Tae know that he was looking at me, or that it was me. "Hmm..let's go."

"Yeah, sure." I heard Tae walking away, and Jungkook, sighing, followed him after a second. From somewhere far away, I could hear Spring's beautiful voice coming into my ears...it had become my favourite song these days.

"Now that you know, wherever you go, Everytime you think about me. I know your words, you know it hurts, Everytime you think about me."

I hung my head low. Tears started falling from my eyes, and I stood there, sobbing, helpless, alone.

All of a sudden, I felt someone hugging me from behind, and immediately knew it was Jungkook. I turned to him to hug him back, sobbing lightly.

"I'll miss you, Y/N-ah," he said, his voice telling me he was about to break down himself. "I hope we'll meet soon."

I looked up at him and nodded. He gave me a reassuring smile, and gave me a little peck on my forehead, before whispering lightly.

"No more secrets."

I gave a little laugh. He gave me his patented bunny smile despite the tears in his eyes, and ran to catch up to Tae, who was completely oblivious to the fact that Jungkook had run back to me.

I couldn't let them break at any cost. Even if it meant me going away from their lives forever, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. The time I had spent with them was beautiful; those memories weren't going anywhere anyway. So it was time for me to go. For the greater good.

"Don't be broken because of me." I whispered, looking at Taehyung and Jungkook, the two members of the most famous 'family' of the world.

Can You Keep A Secret? Pt.11

Part 10//Part 11//Part 12

SERIES MASTERLIST

Next part coming up on 29th November at 17:30 GMT. Stay updated, and happy reading!

Summary: Your close friend Taehyung, shares a secret with you, a big secret: You have had a crush on Jimin for the past 6 years. But what he doesn't know is that you have done something bigger than that, something that could destroy many people's lives in seconds. That's a secret for you to keep. But something even bigger is floating in the air: what you have done could destroy BTS's friendship forever...but that's a secret even you don't know yourself.

Pairing: Reader × Jimin/Taehyung ft. Other Members

Genre: Angst (varies with each part)

A/N: The lyrics used here are not from any song, they are my own lyrics from a song that I wrote.

[strad-214]

I am reading right now that psychologists are saying that it would be an incredible relief to us all if we forget the recent and "normal" lives we once knew and just accepted our current situation as the new normal because there is not yet an end in sight and I read this on CNN.

The article goes on to say that we will not be happy or content unless we let go of the belief that this will all be over soon or else we will drive ourselves crazy. It says that we must let go of the way of life we knew and accept our current predicament as our new way of life because there is no end in sight, so don'tgo searching for that end because that is also going to drive us crazy...

No, this pandemic isn't going to end tomorrow, or next week, or next month, maybe not even next year. Yes, we have to accept our current situation such as it is whether we like it or not because whether we believe it or not, it all is ultimately out of our control... but the pandemic will also not go on forever, and not all of our new conditions of living are entirely justified. Every day, new information comes out that contradicts the policies that where placed the day before: in New Jersey, USA, the Governor disallowed any and all indoor activity but forced schools to open with a government approved plan for sterility in the classrooms. The teachers, understandably, revolted saying that it was too dangerous and they did not wish to risk theirs and their students' lives so needlessly when they had already found ways to teach from home. They also made the argument that everything else was still needed to be done outdoors, so why open the schools? You know what the Governor did? Immediately announced that indoor activities where safe again to a certain degree and restaurants and theaters and the like opened back up. So too, did the schools, for they now had no argument.

This pandemic has been used as a platform for politics to exercise their control over the population. This is not an extreme left wing agenda, it is not an extreme right one either. Neither side is working in tandum to exercise this control, in fact, I'm not sure which is worse anymore. The pendulum of a a clock need not be wound so tight that the hammer slams into the walls of its casing and breaks the clock. Yet here we are, swinging so far one way and the other that the whole thing is crashing down and we just keep winding it up. Proof lies in this article alone, telling you the reader to give up hope for a better future, one where we are free of this plague-- political or viral-- and accept the lives we now must face.

Well, I for one will never give up hope of a better life. Things are terrible right now, but those of us that survive can do something to make it better. Don't riot, don't needlessly posture out of pride, don't give anybody a reason to call you a radical. Ask for the support of those in authority who are being muffled by the extreme wings of politics, they WANT to help us. Get the police to protest WITH YOU, talk to them, give them a reason to WANT TO SUPPORT YOU, and they will, they have done that before! They did it in Newark NJ when all these other protests and riots went violent, they knew Newark was going to have one, so they just decided "We'll march with you, protect you from those who would harm you and protect you from yourselves." -- there are a lot of rioters who are picking random targets and justifying it later, even amongst themselves.

What I'm trying to say is this: yes, it was the American way to take up arms and overthrow our government... keyword is WAS... we are not there yet. Can we please start finding better ways than just shooting the first cop we see? Or by literally trying to spread this plague as if it isn't real? Otherwise, we will get there. Do we really want that? Do we really want to destroy this nation? If we do, the entire world will come donw on us to claim its share, and we will have no say about it: we will be carved like fat ham, those of us who would survive the peocess will lose their homes, will lose their families, their husbands and wives, their children, their identities, their treasures... possibly our lives in the process. The carvers would call it a mercy for us, say they are giving us a new home and life, but we would be outsiders in lands we don't want to go live in. Or,, even if we think we want to go live there, we couldn'tive there the way we live here. Thas got to be a better way people, don't let go of those bettwr paths or we will lose everything!

I'm a straight, white man. I have lived on this Earth for 26 years. I was never presented the opportunities of success because I lived in a town of people who couldn't give a shit about anything but themselves and their interests. I am poor, I drive a 2007 Forester that is falling apart. I have enough college debt to insist that I'm pursuing a masters degree, but I still am an undergrad. I live in the living room of my future inlaws and sleep in a bed that is too small for my fiancee and I. Every night I try to sleep with direct eyesight to the front door of the house. I'm supposed to be student teaching right now, but that's difficult to do right now because of the pandemic and my college is having difficulty finding me a school willing to take me, not to mention the school they did find for me actually isn't cooperating with me and at this point, there isn't enough time in the semester to complete my requirements due to the slowly turning wheels of a system that again, doesn't seem to give a shit about me. I'm due to get married in two weeks time come this Friday (10/02/2020) the plans of which got turned upside down again due to the pandemic. All I want to do is teach music, love my wife, have a modest home on the edge of a forest that I can walk in with what I hope to be a daughter who sings and a son who fights Isshin-ryū like his mother, and ultimately teach the next generation to stick up for themselves and be their own men and women someday-- whether they were born men and women or not. That's it, that's all I want. Everything I have done in life was to allow myself and people like me to do just those things.... Why is that so hard? WE ARE MAKING IT HARD.... and I swear to God, if I have to take up arms and defend what little of my goals I have achieved against savages who hide behind walls of self-righteousness-- no matter their skin color or class-- my wrath will be equal to that of the God I believe in. For they will have taken everything from me at that point just because they can because they think it's right even though I have done nothing wrong to them....

BUT. I. WILL. NOT. GIVE. UP. NOT UNTO MY DYING BREATH WILL I EVER GIVE UP ON THE HOPE OF A BETTER FUTURE FOR EVERYONE ON THIS EARTH NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE OR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN!!! AND IN STRIVING FOR MY GOALS OF A PEACFUL FUTURE WHERE I LIVE IN HARMONY WITH ALL THOSE AROUND ME, I AM ALLOWING THAT GOAL TO EMINATE TO ALL THOSE I WOULD LIVE IN HARMONY WITH!!! AND I SPIT ON ANY SICK FUCK WHO WOULD TELL ME OR ANYBODY THAT IT IS BETTER TO JUST GIVE UP HOPE AND ACCEPT A FATE THAT I DID NOT CHOOSE!!! FUCK YOU!!! TURN IN YOUR LICENCE TO PRACTICE MEDICINE BECAUSE YOU ARE RUINING LIVES WITH THAT BULLSHIT!!! THE SPIRIT OF A TRUE AMERICAN LIVES ON IN THE HOPE OF A BETTER FUTURE! THAT IS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A TRUE AMERICAN!!! NOT A REBEL, NOT A CONQUOR, NOT A RACIST, BUT A BEACON OF HOPE FOR ALL PEOPLES OF THIS EARTH!!!!!

........ you know, I never write these things because when I share my views here, I get labeled as a biggot, a racist-- I've even been called a neo-nazi once... for believing that all people can live together in harmony without causing harm to one another, can you believe that? .... well, you people don't know me and your opinions don't scare me anymore. I have ourgrown mindless spite. I say what I do in the spirit of humility and devotion to secret vows which I have taken to try and unite peoples of all walks of life through music and help foster a kindred spirit between myself and my neighbors. It is the same vow that a man named Fred Rogers made once upon a time, I would know, he is a member of my order. If anyone has watched his shows, you'll see what I mean.

I am exhausted now... more than I ever have been. I feel far older than I am and I feel worse all the time. Please, I beg of you all... don't give in to this rhetoric, don't let this political mire get the best of you. Don't love Biden because he isn't Trump, love him because he has an idea or goal you like. Love Trump for the same reasons... and then tweet back that he needs to stop getting in his own way if he is to be a real leader. Think of the impacts of this pandemic and be thankful for all that you have, even if it's only a little, because someone else has it worse than you, and then try to help those people if you can. But above all else, be your own people, don't give in to hatred, be a positive influence, make a pact of peace and trust and set aside pride and spitefulness... be an American the way an American was meant to be.

[pxrtgasdace]

(Rouge!Anon) I know I don't have to include them, but I want to. I've always felt the little details give a little bit more life to one's writing, which is something that you and your blogs absolutely glow with! Whether it's intentional or not, everything you write is so beautiful. Yes, even the funny stuff! Though I may not have the time to run a blog of my own, coming back here to this blog after work is a big highlight of my day! You don't need to have posted anything new, just looking over

the old stuff brings a smile to my face. As for my views on Rouge, I have to agree with a large majority if not all of the points you made in your last post, especially the first two. I never quite understood why someone might make those arguements without having any logical basis behind them. Not only does it not make any sense for Rouge to be a part of Roger’s crew for the very reasons you’ve given, but there is also no reason to connect Nami with Rouge as they are and always havebeen two completely separate characters. I think it has something to do with shipping, but I don’t think those that make the connection between Roger + Rouge and Luffy + Nami gave it much thought in the first place. And can I just say how on point your point on Rouge’s character is? Because it is. It is so on point that it might as well be a dart hitting the middle of a dartboard target. Truly, why should a woman have to conform to a male’s role to be strong? I know quite a few stay athome mothers that would give even the biggest of men a run for their money with words alone. No need to raise a hand in violence at all. I feel, no, I know if Rouge were to “fight” at all, it would be with her words, not her fists, in spite of any physical strength she may have had due to the labor she’d done around her home. On to Roger, if there is anyone I love just as much as Rouge and Ace, it’s Roger. Rouge, in contrast to him, would definitely be his foil, someone to calm him downif only a little bit for a while. However, I firmly believe she’d also be just as stubborn as him if not more so. The one to put her foot down or reel him in before things go southward, so to speak. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be to say she’s the voice of reason? I feel Ace falls between his parents here, eager for a fight, but still thinking a lot more than his father would before starting something. He’s more like Rouge in that regard, he’d want an explanation for things.Hoo, boy, this a lot, but I’m still going! I do indeed doubt Rouge would ever truly be unkind in any way. Maybe stern or disappointed with someone, but unkind? Most certainly not. For her to couple Roger would mean that she is an extraordinarily understanding individual. Roger was figuratively crowned King of the Pirates, a title rightly feared by many. She’d have to have given him a chance and gotten to know him before Ace could ever be conceived. The love of her community would bea result of that kind and understanding nature. However, let it not be said that she wouldn’t stand up for herself or her loved ones should it be called for. Going on about her, a firm belief I have is that she would always call Ace her boy, her son, because he is. She spilt her own blood, sweat, and tears -though not in that particular order- to make certain that he would live. She was willing -and ultimately did- give up her life for Ace. He is, above all, her child and she’d foreverproudly claim him as such. Even shout it to the world as she pleased. It would not matter to her how old he was, he would always be her little boy in her eyes. He is her world and she’d give everything up for him if she had to. I’ve also given thought as to what her occupation may be… I don’t know why, but I can see her as a potter. Her small hands would be an advantage in creating various complicated pieces, and her willingness to get her hands a bit dirty also aids this thought.Another thought I’ve had is what her background could have possibly been and how old she was. We know Roger was in his fifties when he was executed and I’d like to think Rouge was at least well within twenty years of that age range… maybe in her thirties? Perhaps her mid to late thirties when they first met? I have so many thought threads going that it’s hard to keep track. Did they plan to have Ace or was it spur of the moment? I honestly don’t think it was the later.There’s one thing I’m kind of on the fence about when it comes to her though. I’ve put a lot of thought in it, but I think having another person weigh in with their perspective would help. During her pregnancy, it’s shown -from what I understand- that Rouge could sense Ace fairly well. Not only that, but delaying his birth through sheer will alone… Do you think she could have had Haki? I don’t think it’d have been all that strong, but maybe it was a weak form of Observation Haki?

I must agree that yes, it’s about the details. I love to read them - they are the most revealing of a person or character’s nature, intentions and so on & of great use to the writer, for establishing a coherent story/chronology or for foreshadowing, for instance - and thus hope I do a good job at writing them as well. I guess that’s why I abuse adverbs so much and I reckon I’d be more descriptive if my vocabulary was superior. 

I do try to… Well serious threads will always be my favourite but I reckon silliness is needed to lighten the mood, though I’m not always in the mood for it. Still, even in crack things, I try to keep Ace’s nature the same, you know? If I fail… well that’s why it’s called crack, I guess. But I am very glad you think so, that even the things where I have freedom to go stupid are not that utterly idiotic! I am oh so very glad someone notices it ;; It’s not like I am making an effort and being in control but I do make decisions before publishing something and I’m glad those seconds I spend are showing.

Ah, how many times can I thank you? I do wonder what other blogs of mine you keep track of, since you used the plural. I am really flattered that you check on my blog often and take time in writing to me, whether through asks like this one or as Rouge & co. Never thought someone would go through all that trouble and if my blog makes you happy, then I’m happy! Reckon I’ve been slow but I’d rather take weeks to answer something and have a sense of pride when I do.

It’s totally a shipping thing! Of King and Queen, Roger/Rouge and Luffy/Nami. While I can respect that, and even respect it when people consider Luffy their King or Nami their Queen because they’re partial to the characters - hey, I’m very partial to Ace, I understand the feeling - there’s no reason to shape Rouge at will in order to make LuffyxNami a legitimate, more ‘official’ pairing or, again, to ‘justify’ Rouge’s importance with giving her a more active role.

To paraphrase you a bit,or at least to use your words as base, how strong is a woman who can tame a man with words alone? That’s no display of weakness, quite the contrary. How commanding is a woman whodoes not have to take much action - maybe even a nod will suffice - to make a man stay or advance? Not that we know to what point Rouge could control Roger’s temper, of course, this is just to say there is phenomenal strength and authority in such things. Yet, some would have it that being strong equals being loud. 

It might seem I’m going down another road but… The Mummy’s (1999) Evelyn and Rick have always been my favourite cinema couple and there’s a scene that makes me melt and speaks volumes of Evy’s strength. It’s when Rick is ready to fire but Evelyn simply grabs his arm firmly and gently, the way only a woman is capable of, and with that and a look she makes him lower his guns.

This is the kind of strength I can see Rouge having over Roger. I am not saying he’s a puppet in her hands - and quite frankly I don’t see her as manipulative or anything of the sort - and I am not saying this would always work. But if Roger is being his eager self around Rouge, she can protect him before he even puts himself in trouble. I am not sure I can phrase it any better but this is it - and you have explained it better. Again, stubborness can be channelled in different ways… 

That is an ingenious observation! That Ace is somehow the synthesis or the balance between his parents’ personalities. It’s also an evolutionary thing, of sorts, as he paradoxically learns to control his fire within only to become actual living fire. We see him being just as eager in nature as an adult - it’s not like Ace’s penchant for violence disappears but it subsides. But it’s clear he does a lot of thinking from what we see in Impel Down/Marineford, all those twists near his death - he accepts his fate but doesn’t want to die, he deserves it but he still fights… Oh, Ace cannot decide which of his desires - to keep on living, to get absolution, to rest, to give the world the biggest middle finger he’s ever given - is the strongest. So yes… I do see him giving things more thought than it might seem at first tight and I do hope my writing is a vehicle for it.

Had Rouge lived, had Ace been raised by her, she would have always called him her son or her boy, yes. I actually have an idea of how things would be if that were the case… Ace would still hate Roger, that would not change. Only the way/why of doing so would. He’d hate Roger for leaving his mother alone. As a child, and though he’s quite bright or ‘street smart’, there is no way he can see the full dimension of his parent’s affair or relationship and would aptly, childishly, blame Roger for ‘walking away’ and abandoning them - because that’s his pov. That ‘father’ left his family… And then it would change into Ace hating Roger for getting close to Rouge in the first place, even if it puts his own existence at stake, and this I do include in my canon setting - how did he have the nerve to approach a lady like her while fully aware a fairytale relationship, the happiness she deserved, could never be achieved? It’s not like they could live together until the end of days… Ace doesn’t know if Roger tricked Rouge, if it was a carnal thing…In short, he doesn’t know the dynamics - but he knows Rouge deserved better.

But I see Rouge trying to make Ace change his mind. It should hurt her to hear her son - his son - say he hates him or that he has no father. She would definitely scold Ace for saying such things if he was abusing it, otherwise I can see her trying to calm him down or lessen his hatred by randomly recalling episodes of Roger’s wooing of her. I don’t know, she’s making a pie, Ace is watching/helping her and she breaks the silence with a ‘did I ever tell you…?’ kind of story. 

At least in the anime dub, I recall a line about Roger being in Baterilla ‘like a civilian’ or ‘any regular man’, something like that, which might be revealing, too - Roger knows he can’t stay by Rouge’s side thanks to piracy and his illness as well but that doesn’t seem to be an impediment. He truly does as he wants! We can only speculate about what this actually means - say, is Roger casually being bread like a regular Joe? - but that’s a kind of story survivor!Rouge could tell her son in the hopes of making Roger less of a beast in his eyes!

I also imagine Rouge would get lost in thought every now and then while watching the sea, thinking of her dear Roger and times of old and memories they had never got the chance to make… If only you could see your son now… I see he gets more and more like you everyday…Imagine teenage!Ace get in trouble and being dragged to Rouge’s doorstep. “Your boy was at it again”. Though she has to give the neighbour reason, she can’t help feeling proud of herself at hearing the words ‘your boy’. Maybe he stole some crops? Maybe he saw a dog all tied up and tried to free it? I am sure there’s mischief Rouge would secretly feel proud of, if it meant Ace has a good core.

And again, your idea is brilliant! Rouge as a potter is a good analogy for… ultimately what she did with Roger, isn’t it? She shaped something into something else, rather more refined. (And I recall clay/earth is also the material humans come from in some cultures). I guess that’s another of her powers: to transform things into something beautiful. Like with the flowers! 

Oh, Rouge is a goddess walking this earth! To me she is. To me, flowers grow where she steps. Sometimes I can’t believe a character that is so short-lived can have all this impact.

I love the idea of Rouge in her thirties. She would find Roger’s age and the contrast between the maturity he should have and his boyish penchant for trouble interesting, if not charming. And I imagine her listening to his adventures very intently, filling her cup with tea and his with the drink of his choice so he can go on… If she’s never sailed or if she’s never left the South Blue at least she’d be positively overwhelmed by his stories. All the things he has seen!

I really can’t help you any further now. I don’t see them sitting down and saying they should have a baby, yet, as Roger was said to ‘be acting like any other man in Baterilla’, I suppose establishing a family is part of that thought! Maybe it’s not that they decide on it but maybe some hints are dropped. There are many means to achieve on end. You know, Roger talking of a strapping young lad and Rouge using her female charms to ask him what he thinks of baby feet when he least expects… We can only speculate. So while I can’t say I totally believe Ace was planned, I can easily see a desire for it that can be supported by that canon reference. 

As for Rouge and her possible Haki, I’m afraid I am not smart enough to give it thought. Let’s see... I guess not much can be truly discussed without the truth of the Will of the D being out there, for Rouge is a ‘D’. On one hand, we don’t know much about women’s health in the world of OP.

 (I actually wrote a lot from this point on but decided to erase it al for fear of walking way out of the topic, so...)

Long story short, there are three things we have to consider here: the state of medicine and the particular views of women’s health in the world of OP, the Will of the D, and Haki and its forms - and I don’t think what we have for any of the three is satisfactory enough to let us test hypotheses. Or what we have about Haki is good enough indeed but the other two instances are lacking... There is something uncommon about Rouge, that much is obvious - but what name it goes by I do not dare try and guess.

(I am sorry I am useless about the questions that matter most to you!)

[alchemisland]

Moors Mutt - II

Prefer Wattpad?

Rising early, if rising it was and not merely stirring from a wakened restive state, I left the tavern in secret and walked a barren stretch. At pale dawn birds like Aztec idols flighted at my stirring. Cold light stained the pasture either side. Sleepshod, the road to Cairn Cottage found me quiet company. Even the tinkers were not yet to the road in their triskeled wagons.

The air was heavy with lavender. A pebbled stretch stirred a reverie of my late father and a codex of heroic tales he had purchased for me, whose chronicles of high adventure stirred me like nothing prior. At six years old, tales of old Arabia appealed most. Kingdoms wrought of sunstones stark against a tangerine haze, swirling tarot star ever-visible, scorpions armoured like chargers; the sheer cloying madness of it all. I visited them in dreams, jumped from the paths of unruly camels, watced the impenetrable waves humbly part in the wake of royal palanquins.

Their heroes were unlike our knights. More often sulky boys preferring quill to falchion. Brooding teenagehood made me relish the stranger entries, tales without lessons existing solely to unnerve, speaking on the bleak lives of Tartarian wizards.

Into adulthood, I came to enjoy Greek tales best of all. The tragedy of Ajax in his lover's plate leaking on the golden sand. Waves, caressing the moored fleet in passing, bursting against the shale where his pyre burned. Always when I hear crunching pebbles, I think of soldiers marching on the strand near Troy.

Before long, a trap could be heard from the middle distance, the first in a network of wagons due to arrive at Cairn Cottage to transport the priceless contents of Lady Sizemore’s library back to Sperrin, where they would be carefully parcelled and carried by train to the Royal Academy Library. I waited astride the ditch until the crude plume atop the horses head appeared like the mantle of some deposed pagan lord. Ixion's disc four times divided had been fixed to bear this chariot. Its heavy trundle ground debris to powder. I hailed the driver, a wind being, every strand of hair or cloth lank enough to lift stood disarrayed. A peak stole his brow but a smile waved me aboard.

The driver never spoke. There was a sense of grim penitence about all I had met thus far. Their lines of deep regret boldened every jowl and furrowed brow. Each bore the weight of his forebears in full. A place without time and silent, where happiness and sadness could last all of forever. So silent were they, matched only by monks in their solemnity, I christened this ham the abbodrice of Sperrin.

Inside chaos reigned. Lady Sizemore's estate was measured first in paper above coin. Hundreds, thousands, of jaundiced sheets all in disorder busied every surface. Before a single penny changed hands, a great many hours I spent hauling boxes, within which were more boxes where spiders large as potatoes spun temporary wonders above the invoices.

I wonder what effect prolonged tedium has. Such thoughts are entertained in avoidance of work as should never be given lucid credence. An entire day dedicated solely to translating letters in incomprehensible cursive, it felt ridiculous. My mind, perhaps reflecting its surroundings, felt dulled, unfocused. So long I stared, when I pried my eyes I found feint margins plastered across reality.

The previous night's visitations I had pondered, ultimately chalking to anxiety. Nothing substantially portentous. Unfortunately, another day I required before I indulged  cryptozooligcal fancies.

Darkness in ravenfeather arrived premature. I ran to the track where the last impatient husbandman sat in stasis. 'Bound for Sperrin?' I called, already halfway inside.

I arrived at Lar's fiercely humoured. Tired, thirsty and caked in mud golemlike, my gladness at journey's end was quickly consumed by the fury of indignity, having endured the return trip atop a sewagesucker's swine van. Lar tended bar. I wondered had he stirred in my absence. Anticipating a thirst, two mugs were set.

I dropped my satchel and enjoyed relief akin to weightlessness by contrast. We drained tankards like soon-to-war Saxons, spoke of weather, I asked had anyone noteworthy visited, mostly from politeness. When asked had the room served, I replied it had done so more than adequately. Again, politeness.

Not wishing to appear overeager, I spared him details of my dream. If the tale was relayed to me, I should say how convenient the very man hoping to find the beast would experience a vision. Besides, in the unlikely event we found a mangy badger after I'd described a prehistoric horror.. perish the thought.

'Do we depart tomorrow?' Lar grunted as he pretended to dust.

'Short delay as it happens. I'd have said from the door, only for the ale calling. Alas, labour remains. My charges lust for satisfaction. They are at Rome's gates! Distant cousins write in droves. By air, land and sea their letters come, squeezing through grates, shimmying down chimneys. Forget the beast, if they find me I'm dead.' I said, picking at a heel of bread.

'We sank tankards enough last night. I've seen plenty pale on the dizzy morning after the night before. If this delay is to spite me, let me allay concerns, I'm the man for this job. We're the men for this job.' Lar shot a glance at Fergus. A pale lance cleft his brow through the slitted shutters.

I looked to my empty cup then longingly at his selection. Lar fingered a bottle, but reached further back and took another instead.

'My god, man. Boil a pot and toss it down your trousers. No such notions occurred to me. We're expedition mates! I didn't make a dent in the work, really.' I raised a silencing finger to hear the ale splash. 'There you have it. Mystery solved. If the mystery of the beast is this easy, we're laughing.' I inhaled its aroma. 'Listen, chap. There's something else I wanted to talk about before we go. I mean to publish an expedition diary. A chronicle of our adventures. Part scientific tome, part roaring adventure book. Your pub will be the busiest spot in the weald after this. Would you object to such?'

Lar's measured tone returned. Careful as a tiptoeing sinner, he asked 'You good?'

I smiled. 'Only Ben Adhem saw the book, ask him.'

Lar stove the ashen helm crowning his cigarette, plunging the embers into the cold bronze bowl. 'At writing.'

'You should say! I tease, I tease. To answer your question, yes. Humbly, in my hand the pen is like the master mason's chisel, from whence grand cathedrals spring forth from their less divine constituent parts.' Lar was fumbling for his tobacco already and I thought what small use that vice would be in peril.

'I'm convinced.' Lar spoke quickly, stumbling over the words to get them out. I took no offence at his zeal to change the subject. 'Do you have a manuscript at hand?' he asked.

'Not with me, unfortunately.' He stifled a sigh of relief. 'Upon returning home one story heavier, I'll ensure you receive signed copies of every one. I'll sing them My favourite tub of Lar. Yours literately, Beastman. That way you'll know it's me.'

Lar's ale, a home brew, was a swift agent, promising to travel from your mouth to the toilet's in twenty minutes. I joked he might patent it for a medicine. Call it the Midas touch. Everything it touched turns to gold: toilet seat, floor, shoes if you weren't careful.

I spied Fergus. His thumb led a blunt edge across the ribbed bark of a sprig, from which he had carved two lidded eyes and a pursed mouth.

Lar lit a cigarette from the flared end of another, then discarded it on the ashen pyre.

Lar had to raise the hatch for me, which spoiled any hope of a dramatic exit. 'Departure two days hence, on the strict proviso no unpleasant libel suit comes once my story hits print. Rest assured, I'll include nothing untoward, but I reserve the right to artistic licence. Print the myth.'

'Libel is a city crime.' Anticipating my desire, Lar walked while he spoke. I mirrored and slipped through the open portcullis to sleep, perchance to scream.

*

Lying in bed, I wondered what to include in my chronicle; exciting details only, or every charged exchange? Nobody asked how the shipwright felt constructing thousands of ships without prior notice. They only wanted Achilles. The reader will concede, I have included much of the mundane.

Well-oiled, I slept easily. Set like a star I saw things from the blind past, dark present and murky future, useless without chronology, stifling their prophetic nature. The beast came again, shaking the ground where it trod.

*

Lar, blackbird that he was, rose early. He emerged from the fugue state that best pleased his constitution and stretched, his wingspan filling the alcove. He found me in my linen cell, bewhaled as Jonah.

'Terrible day.' He drew the shutters. Groggily, I pulled the sheets down over my face to the sight of Lar's stocky silhouette in the dirty light. Tapping a cigarette loose on the sill, he plonked one cheek on the ledge and struck a match. 'Anything you want from town? I'm going to get supplies. I should be away most of the day. There won't be a return trip before we go. Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

'Ambulo in pace.' I tapped my journal, 'I have everything.'

'Do you have a mac?' he asked. The rain beat down harder.

'No, we're English, some Irish. Although I heard tell that a distant branch traded their roses for thistle stalks.' I smirked.

Lar shuddered, ill-humoured before midday despite protestations he needed no proper rest. 'I mean a waterproof.'

'Oh give me credit. That's humour.'

'We in the smiling countryside call it idiocy. There's a time for revels. Unless you've been up all night, dawn isn't it.' he said somewhat angrily.

'I don't have one and I'd like a loan if that's what you're asking, thank you. I didn't sleep well now you mention it' I tossed my feet onto the cold ground and felt for a sock.

Lar watched the rain spilling in romantic sheets. 'You'll need an ark to get back. It's like a bog when it rains. No one will be able to get you. Not me, not the constabulary, nor anyone else. If the weather worsens, make sure you get back in time. Otherwise, everything will be closed until further boatice.'

'Boatice?' I said.

'Now that is humour. Rain, boats, further notice. Get it?' Lar left, more spritely than when he entered.

[taz-writes]

Mobile tumblr is an asshole that posted this response before I was done typing it, so to CONTINUE. Vi has road rage problems, yeah, it's a thing. She gets arrested for some kind of assault because she lost her temper about something and refused to calm down. Over time in canon she gets better about this, but better doesn't necessarily mean good.

Aelia gets arrested for trespassing because she just won't stop sneaking into places where she shouldn't be. She gets caught in some abandoned building or private property looking for secrets...

Sayara gets thrown in prison for picking a fight with someone or deliberately ignoring a law she thinks is dumb. She'll normally follow rules as long as they don't interfere with what she wants, but she has a serious problem with pointless authorities, and if you won't give good reason for why something's wrong then she'll ignore you. It's a big spite thing. She'll insist that she didn't start it, and she probably didn't, but she'll escalate the fuck out of anything. She gets caught doing something minor and irrelevant like... I dunno, graffiti or speeding on the highway when no one's around, but then she makes it into a Big Deal by fighting with the cops. In canon I doubt she'd get arrested for non-political reasons bc she wants to keep a good reputation (and no one has the balls to arrest a princess). but if anyone challenged her, she'd still be obnoxious about it, because she feels very entitled to do things with no established consequences for her.

Amalie is arrested for forgery and generally lying about anything she possibly can lie about.

Canon Dusk is a tough one because the laws are basically rewritten to let her do whatever the hell she wants, but Dusk in any AU could very easily become a criminal mastermind, she'd be tough to catch but she gets thrown in prison for organized crime. Money laundering, counterfeit cash, fraud, grand larceny, the whole nine yards. She lacks the drive to start something on her own, but given the motivation she will tear apart the system bit by bit. Alternatively, the whole accomplice-to-attempted-genocide thing from the canon is a perfectly good reason in and of itself.

Kyrina gets arrested for picking a fight with Violet, after they both beat the living shit out of each other during a mostly pointless argument. She also likes to threaten people with weapons, which doesn't go over well in canon OR any AU. She's got an entitlement issue and throws huge violent fits if she doesn't get what she wants. Human AU Kyrina tries to pick physical fights with retail workers at the customer service desk. She's one of those people.

I genuinely, sincerely, cannot think of a single reason Hope might be arrested, because she's the goodiest goody two shoes I've ever written to the point where Sayara thinks there's something wrong with her. She could potentially get in trouble for being complicit in something illegal by way of not stopping it, but even that seems unlikely, she takes her responsibilities to the law and her country VERY seriously.

Lavender poisons someone, and very nearly gets away with it.

Honorable mention goes to Adrian fa Viandre, thrown in prison forever after committing multiple counts of treason, false arrests, forgery, drug smuggling, kidnapping, stalking, assault, and child abuse. Except in canon, the victims get to decide what happens, and prison is too good for him.

Second honorable mention goes to the FOE, who technically hasn't broken a single law, because nobody thought to actually make what he did illegal. The possibility of doing that didn't even occur to anyone.

What are each of your OC's most likely reason to get sent to prison?

/throws sayara in jail for youtube crimes

The boring canon answer is that they’re all political pains in the butt who are wanted by one side or the other for being rebels/terrorists/war criminals/jerks, but that’s not really PERSONAL enough.

Violet gets thrown in prison for some kind of needless act of violence, probably. Her tendency for disproportionate revenge (and lack of anger management skills) leads to a habit of inflicting pain upon those who wrong her. Vi grows up to be that lady who flips tables at the PTA meetings. In a human AU she’d have serious trouble with road rage. You cut her off in traffic, she cuts you off in life.