#of course someone who positions himself (rightfully. hes been here with us since before our species conceptions) as a Father Of Humanity

[abyssalpriest]

sketch i had in mind for a painting in light of that last post, on the topic of death lullabies and parents throughout history petitioning Death as a gentle release to take their kids who they believe (emphasis on the subjectivity of this situation) are better off at peace, rather than in the horrors of life in need.

[curtklingermanposts]

By Whose Expectations Do You Live

The Problem With Expectations

One definition of expectation is anticipation. Another is something expected, or strong belief that something will happen, or be the case in the future. A third is a belief someone will or should achieve something. Let’s zero in one the last one. The verbs to which this one is attached are as follows. To look for something from someone as rightfully due, or requisite in the circumstances. “We expect great things of you.” To consider bound in duty, obligated, or require someone to fulfill an obligation. Expectations are often attached to a standard, which is a level of quality or attainment. Expectations have their pros; but they certainly have their cons as well. They can negatively impact an individual and their relationship with others. When a person holds unreasonable expectations, he can place himself in bondage. Obviously, it sets him up for major disappointments, which of course, can be connected with events, the self, people or even God. By the way, it’s easier to not be disappointed in others if you don’t place unreasonable expectations on them. Living up to other’s expectations give them a place of power in your life. That’s not always bad. For example, a place of employment requires certain standards in which to operate. Generally, it is not unreasonable to meet an employer’s expectations. Of course, there are a plethora of negative consequences of trying to abide by someone else’s values, especially, if they do not align with God’s. Granted, we may draw inspiration by other people’s examples. Paul talks about following him and those who were with him (see 2 Thessalonians 3:7-9). He also told Timothy to be an example for others to follow (see 1 Timothy 4:12). But the standards still belong to God; not Paul, or anyone else. Jesus told Peter, regardless of what John does, he needed to follow Him. John 21:21 Peter seeing him (John) saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do? Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou Me. Our walks are meant to be unique in many ways, since each of us is uniquely made to have a relationship with God, no one else can have. To be sure, biblical principles are the same for all; however, the way we walk before God cannot be the standard for someone else to follow, or vice versa. Traditions of men have been born out of following others too closely. For instance, “Paul gets us up at 5:00 to meet with the Lord, so I have to get up at 5:00.” In this case, the question might be: “Is that what Holy Spirit is leading you to do? What if He leads you to get up at 7:00?” Pitfall: “Oh no, that can’t be God. That’s too late in the day. What would Paul think?” Well then, what does God think? One major hazard is expecting perfection. This majorly interferes with relationships, and places people in bondage. Perfectionism is a burden in which someone will never be good enough, thus, never good enough to approach God. And that limits the relationship with Him. Here’s one example: a person will not be in a position to receive, or hear anything from God when he believes he is not worthy enough. He simply will not expect it. Christianity 101 simply states our righteousness is found only in Jesus Christ, and in Him we are worthy, because He is worthy. It is time for some to change their expectations. Ironically, God’s expectations are easier to live up to than one’s idea of perfection. Hmmm. 2 Corinthians 5:21 For He hath made Him to be sin for us, Who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.

Perfectfaith.org

[milkybonya]

cheer up, buttercup!

order #001: large banana milk tea with pudding and grass jelly for Cha Eunwoo, requested by my lovely @daybreakx !

-> enemies to lovers! & college!Cha Eunwoo x (gn) reader

-> warnings: some angst and food mentions! also drinking/alcohol mentions and everyone is really mean to the reader >:0

-> where Eunwoo is the president of your department and you're the vice president. you work your hardest but always end up second to him.

[a/n]: i'm sorry for the CHAOS that this is and i feel like there is minimal (?) fluff but i hope you enjoYY THIS WAS FUN

You and Eunwoo had major beef. There wasn't even an event that started it all, but Eunwoo treated you with such disrespect from the start. And of course, anyone who disrespected you was on your list of... well, the closest thing to a list of enemies.

The first time you met him was in freshman year at the orientation before classes began. There was a basketball game going on and Eunwoo was playing. You watched from the sidelines in the shade, cheering him on at first because he was playing on behalf of your department.

Then, the ball flew in your direction. Eunwoo had tried to get the ball back for his team, but ended up accidentally throwing it towards you.

Luckily, it fell somewhere to your left, but it gave you such a fright that you stood up and started panting.

A few of the people who were playing rushed over to make sure you were okay, but Eunwoo didn't even throw a look your way.

"You, from our department? Just throw the ball back!" was all he said to you.

It made your blood boil.

Eunwoo was known for being a little blunt anyway, but he definitely went out of his way to grind your gears.

"Where is the president?" the social convenor asked.

You sighed, checking the time and noticing that Eunwoo was fifteen minutes late.

"If I knew where he was... If only I knew," you mumbled.

"Why is Eunwoo even the president, anyway?" another member of the student council asked.

"Because he's hot and cool and everyone likes him!" a girl squealed. You couldn't even remember what her position in the student council was, but judging by her comment, you realized that she must be here just for Eunwoo.

"He's absolutely dumb, does nothing all day yet somehow gets A's! Of course, why wouldn't he be the president?" your tone was dripping with sarcasm and your anger was almost about to overflow.

Until that man walked into the meeting room, at last.

"I'm dumb and do nothing all day? Why, thank you. I'm here, now," Eunwoo declared, strolling towards his seat. He had his black leather jacket slung over a shoulder.

God, I hate my life, you thought to yourself.

"That's what [y/n], said, but I don't think that way!" the girl who squealed earlier spoke.

"Thanks, Stacy."

Eunwoo only flashed her a quick smile before he sat back in his seat.

"So, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean, 'what are we doing'? We have an open house tomorrow and tons of high school students will be checking on our department! You're the president, you were supposed to-"

Eunwoo hushes you by raising up his hand from where it was resting on his thigh.

"It's all good, I've got it sorted."

He slammed down a notebook onto the table.

"I've taken notes on how open houses have been previously organized and have put them all in this book. I highlighted the events that seemed like they had a lot of potential, so look through those and decide on something, alright? I'll be off," Eunwoo explained, standing up.

"Where are you going?" you almost spat out at Eunwoo. He walks in here, makes a fool out of you and then decides to leave?

"To go 'be dumb and do nothing all day'. Isn't that what you said I do?"

He glared at you slightly before leaving the room.

"[y/n], you made Nunu so angry! Nunu, don't be mad, come back!" Stacy screamed, chasing after him.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

"This idiot really thought I wouldn't know about the past open houses..."

You slam down the notebook that you had also brought.

"Damn... so he really just provided us some useless info and left?" the social convenor asks, shaking their head.

"Yeah, pretty much," you say.

-

So how did you and Eunwoo end up as vice president and president, anyway? Well, these positions were given to the students with the highest grades. Eunwoo had the highest, so he was given the title of president. You were trailing close behind, and were given the title of vice president.

You always told yourself that you should have been the president, and rightfully so! Eunwoo never did anything but play games on his phone, anyway.

When the open house event finally rolled around, you and Eunwoo were supposed to give a speech in a lecture hall to get the day started. It was mostly to welcome the high school students and lift the spirits of everyone there, not too big of a deal!

But still, big enough of a deal that Eunwoo should have shown up.

He didn't. And you were anything but surprised.

Forced to deliver your speech and somehow improvise along the way to make up for Eunwoo's missing presence, you were shocked to find that the audience started clapping right as you finished. It felt as though your hard work had paid off, and you stepped back, smiling at everyone in the crowd.

Until Eunwoo walked up to the mic, flashing a smile of his own and greeting everyone.

Yep, they had all been clapping for him, not for you.

Eunwoo turned and looked at you, mouthing, "did you prepare my script?"

"You were supposed to do that! Do I look like your secretary?"

Eunwoo scowled at you and turned to everyone who was seated. He ended up repeating a bunch of the same things that you had said and received an enthusiastic applause. You sighed from behind the curtains, wondering why Eunwoo always got the credit for all your hard work. It was probably his looks, but still.

Throughout the day, you walked around campus and ensured that everything was running smoothly. Eunwoo was supposed to be doing the same, you hoped, and you asked him this when you ran into him outside of the campus student centre.

"Have you been walking around like you were supposed to?"

"I'll deal with my business on my own," he said, almost scoffing at you. He was standing there scrolling through his phone.

"This isn't 'your business'? We're literally supposed to be working together!"

"Stop nagging me, [y/n]. I don't like it when you do that," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well I don't like you!" you yelled, storming away from him. You felt... very embarrassed. What kind of comeback was that? It sounded like something a child would say... oh, well.

You saw your friend handing out some goodies at a table outside and approached them.

"How's it going, vice president?" they asked you, handing you a snack.

"Terrible," you groaned, opening it and eating some.

"Why, what's up?"

"Cha Eunwoo is being a pain in the butt, as always," you sighed.

"You might want to watch what you say," your friend mumbled, pointing behind you.

You turned around a little too late as the snack in your hands was whisked away by Cha Eunwoo himself.

"You're the only pain in the butt here, [y/n]," he said, eating your snacks.

"What are you doing here?! You should be on the other side of campus!" you yelled.

"And you shouldn't be here, either," Eunwoo said with a glare.

"Can y'all go argue somewhere else? You're scaring the highschoolers away," your friend complained, nodding in the direction of some highschoolers who were hesitant to approach the snack stand because you and Eunwoo were arguing.

"Go attend to your duties, [y/n]," Eunwoo huffed, walking away from you.

You angrily stomped the ground, walking away and feeling a little embarrassed because you could feel the high schoolers watching you.

-

"[y/n], why won't you learn from Eunwoo a bit? I understand that he's the president and you're only the vice, but you could have at least prepared what we needed you to prepare!" the director of your department told you, shaking her head at you.

You tried to contain yourself and looked down as you rolled your eyes. The only reason Eunwoo was more prepared than you were today was because he had stolen what you prepared and claimed it was his instead.

"I understand, I'm sorry."

"You're at risk of getting your position taken away, [y/n]! This is a warning."

After leaving the director's office, you were met wih a grinning Eunwoo who was sat on the couches in the lobby.

"What are you looking at?" you asked him.

"Thanks for these papers, [y/n]," he said, holding up your hard work.

"I didn't even give them to you. You took them from me, but okay," you said, leaving him there.

You walked to a coffee shop that was on the same floor to get something to refresh yourself. Since it was so early in the morning on a weekend, the building was fairly quiet and empty. It wasn't hard to overhear a conversation.

"Eunwoo, I think [y/n] has not been taking their vice president duties seriously these days. Do you think we should find someone else?"

The director's voice.

"Do the other members of student council agree?"

Eunwoo's voice.

"I haven't spoken to them-"

"Then [y/n] remains as vice. I haven't seen any sort of slacking or a lack of seriousness from them, and I don't think anyone else is fit for the role."

Did Eunwoo just... compliment and defend you?

You turned around with your drink in hand to find that it was indeed Eunwoo talking with your director. Then, you quickly scurried away to avoid being seen by them, feeling very confused.

-

"Cheers!" everyone shouted around the table, clinking their glasses together before downing their contents. After a successful open house, everyone had gathered at a bar to celebrate. You squirmed in your spot beside Eunwoo, feeling uncomfortable. He rolled his eyes at you and shifted even closer to you, leaving you with less room to sit than before.

"Is that better?" he asked, smirking at you.

You frowned, pressing your foot on top of his clearly new shoes.

"Is that better?" you asked him.

"Why are you guys so close? Are you about to kiss or something?" one of the student council members asked.

"No! Ew-"

"And what if we did?" Eunwoo asked, glaring at the member.

What the hell?

The member looked down at their drink, unsure of what to say. The atmosphere grew awkwardly quiet until someone asked if everyone wanted more drinks, to which there were murmurs of agreement.

"Hey, [y/n], I overheard the director talking with you in her office today. Did she really threaten to kick you out as vice president?" the student council member next to you asked.

You laughed awkwardly, already feeling uncomfortable.

"Yeah... I'm working hard, though! So I'm sure it won't happen."

"Are you sure? You weren't able to prepare what the director asked you to, and there's been countless times where Eunwoo has always had to do things for you..."

You were in such shock. Everyone in student council knew that Eunwoo just acted like he was on top of everything, meanwhile you were doing all the work. Even for his grades, he never studied but was at the top because of all the people who handed him study notes and past tests to get his attention. You worked so hard...

"... I get that you're the vice president, but shouldn't you be trying a little harder? Hey... [y/n]? Are you crying?"

You couldn't help it... it had all been building up until now. You didn't even realize you were crying, though, until this guy pointed it out to you. His hand on your shoulder felt like it was suffocating you...

"What the hell have you been on about, you idiot?" Eunwoo growled from your right. You turned to him and he was glaring at the boy who had been talking to you.

"I-"

"Don't even talk. There's nothing but garbage coming out of your mouth. Come on, [y/n], let's go," Eunwoo said, grabbing your hand and guiding you out of there.

You were extremely confused, but more than anything, you were just sad. So you didn't stop Eunwoo when he led you outside of the bar.

"Is everything okay? Take some deep breaths." Eunwoo was staring right into your eyes as he spoke to you, reaching out his thumb to gently wipe your tears away.

"What's... going on?"

"That idiot was saying some useless garbage so I brought you out here. I can leave if you want to be alone-"

"No! No, please don't go," you begged, holding on tightly to his sleeve. You couldn't help it, you completely broke down and found yourself sobbing into his chest. What was weirder was that Eunwoo had his arms wrapped around you and was rubbing your back...

After you calmed done, Eunwoo insisted that he walk you back to your dorm.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you asked him, sniffling quietly.

He threw his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.

"I don't like it when people are mean to you, [y/n]," he said quietly.

"But you're mean to me all the time!" you pointed out.

"You're the one who started being mean to me!" Eunwoo whined.

You stopped walking.

"I started being mean to you? Eunwoo, you know you're the one who threw a basketball at me that day and never apologized, right?"

Eunwoo stared at the dark sky for a moment as he tried to remember what you were talking about. Then his eyes widened and he looked at you.

"Oh... I swear, there's an explanation-"

"There better be!"

"This is going to sound dumb but... I felt too shy to look at you... which is why I avoided you like that."

What? Eunwoo, the most cocky and arrogant president you know, was shy?

"Why in the world were you shy, Eunwoo?"

It wasn't just the slight breeze in the air that was turning his cheeks red, now. He was about to tell you something important.

"Ever since the first day at the orientation week... I thought you were really... attractive. And then, learning about you through all the icebreakers just made things worse. I don't really know how to handle my feelings, so maybe that's why I came across as so rude."

There was silence as you processed everything and starting walking to your dorm again.

"Eunwoo... if you had just cleared this all up a little sooner, we wouldn't have been like cats and dogs," you said, laughing nervously and touching the back of your neck.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Do you still... like me?" you asked him quietly.

Eunwoo paused before answering. "I don't think I could ever just stop liking you."

Both of you giggled at his cheesy words. You felt like you were on another planet. The boy you'd hated so much turned out to have a crush on you?

"You don't need to tell me how you feel anytime soon. I know there's been a lot of misunderstandings... so let's just clear those up first?" Eunwoo cocked his head to one side.

"If you get to my dorm faster than me, I'll consider it!" you yelled before running in the direction of your residence building.

"I don't even know where you live!" Eunwoo yelled after you, following you along.

"What kind of president are you? You don't even know where your vice president lives?" you yelled back, sticking your tongue out at him.

Suddenly, Eunwoo caught up to you and started racing ahead. Of course he knew where you lived. He liked you.

[babypandawrites]

Allies, Pt. 6

The Fortune Teller

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 4,530 Summary: Meeting Aunt Wu and getting your fortune told by her definitely does not make you come to any realizations at the end of the day. None at all. 

-Navigation- | -Allies Masterlist- | -Atla Masterlist- 

Sitting a bit away from the rest of the group, Y/n leaned her back against a rock settled on the lake shore. She held a small handmade leather bound journal in her hands, finger tips tracing along the cover. She hummed to herself, squinting at the cover. “Maybe just a small peak…”  “Look!”  Her head snapped up, looking at the others, then looking in the direction Katara had been pointing. She’d been pointing out to the water, where a green catfish jumped from the water before landing back in it. Y/n tucked the journal away.  “He is taunting us… You are so going to be dinner!” As Sokka ran to get his fishing pole, she got up and joined the group.  Sokka tried to cast the pole a few times, but nothing happened. “Hey! Where’s the fishing line.”  “Oh, I didn’t think you would need it, Sokka.” Aang held up the fishing line, it had been twisted into something.  “Aang, it’s all tangled!” “Not tangled- woven .” He airbended a gust of air to push him to his feet, and turned to Katara. “I made you a necklace, Katara. I thought since you lost your other one…” Trailing off, he smiled sheepishly and held out the homemade necklace to Katara. She took it from him.  “Thanks, Aang. I love it.”  Y/n got her bow from where it sat next to the tent, and pulled an arrow from the quiver before joining Sokka at the shore line. He had tossed his fishing pole into the water like a spear, only for it to disappear.  “Stop taunting me!”  She looked at him with an amused expression. “Sokka, I can catch-” Holding up his hand he cut her off. “No! No, I got this.” He drew out his knife, and lunged into the water, trying to catch the fish with it. Her and Aang both watched his antics in amusement.  “So, how do I look?”  Y/n turned back to look at Katara. The girl had put on the necklace Aang gave her, and while Y/n was pretty sure the question hadn’t been directed at her, she still gave her a thumbs up.  “You mean all of you or just your neck? I mean, uh, both look great.”  She raised her eyebrows at Aang. That kid was not very good at hiding his crush. Sokka got out of the lake, holding the fish he had caught as if about to kiss it.  “Smoochie, smoochie, someone’s in love.” The fish flipped around in his hands, knocking him back into the lake and earning a laugh from Y/n.  Aang rubbed at his head in an embarrassed manner. “I… well…”  “Stop teasing him, Sokka.” Katara gave her brother an annoyed look. “Aang’s just a good friend. A sweet little guy- just like Momo.”  “Thanks.” He was clearly put down by her words.  Y/n rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, as a soaking wet Sokka approached the group. He was empty handed, and looked quite upset about it.

At a sound in the distance, Momo flew off in it’s direction. Aang used his airbending to join the lemur atop a large rock. He pointed to the source of the noise. “Someone’s being attacked by a platypus bear!” He jumped off the rock, presumably down to where the attack was taking place.  Sokka and Katara ran off in the direction Aang pointed, as Y/n grabbed her quiver to put on her back, before quickly joining them. The three joined Aang, as a man calmly dodged attacks from the platypus bear. Aang, Katara and Sokka were trying to give advice to the man about how to evade the bear, but he brushed them off, claiming everything would be fine. Appa ended up scaring the platypus bear by roaring at it, not only making it run away but also making it drop an egg.  Sokka went to pick up the egg. “Mmm! Lunch!” He sniffed the egg, before looking at the man. “Lucky for you we came along.”  “Thanks, but everything was already under control. Not to worry, Aunt Wu predicted I’d have a safe journey.” The man put his hands together in a position of prayer and bowed slightly.  “Aunt who?” Aang questioned.  “No, Aunt Wu. She’s the fortune teller from my village. Awfully nice knowing your future.”  Katara looked amazed. “Wow, it must be. That explains why you were so calm.”  “But the fortune teller was wrong! You didn’t have a safe journey, you were almost killed.” “I think us showing up is what made it a safe journey actually, Sokka.”  “The girl has a point. All right, have a good one!” The man gave a wave goodbye to the group, and began walking away, but he turned back again. “Oh, and Aunt Wu said if I met any travelers to give them this.” He handed Aang a long, thin wrapped object and walked away.  “Maybe we should go see Aunt Wu and learn our fortunes. It could be fun.” Katara looked between her friends as she spoke her suggestion.  Sokka waved off his sister's suggestion. “Oh come on, fortune telling is nonsense.”  Glancing between the two siblings, Y/n offered a small shrug. “Even if it is nonsense, it could still be fun.”  “See! Y/n gets it! Kinda.”  “What do ya know, an umbrella!” The three looked over to Aang, who had unwrapped the wrapped up object, which was clearly an umbrella. The sky abruptly darkened as rain began to pour down. Katara smiled, and waterbended the rain into an arch above her head to avoid getting wet. “That proves it.” She ran to join Aang under the opened umbrella.  Y/n found herself joining the two, trying to fit under the umbrella space as well. Sokka held the egg above his head. “No it doesn’t, you can’t really tell the future.” “I guess you’re not really getting wet then.” 

The four walked down the road. Aang, Katara and Y/n were dry under the umbrella while Sokka was getting soaking again from walking in the rain.  “Of course she predicted it was gonna rain. The sky’s been gray all day.”  “Just admit you might be wrong and you can come under the umbrella.”  Y/n nodded at Katara’s words. “The umbrella life is pretty nice, I really recommend it.”  He looked at them blankly. “Look, I’m going to predict the future now.” Sokka made a bunch of funny movements and noises, before speaking in an exaggerated voice.. “It’s going to keep drizzling.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “See!” The rain instantly stopped, and the sun came out.  “Not everyone has the gift, Sokka.” Aang closed the umbrella as he spoke.  Appa came up on the group, passing Sokka, he shook out his fur causing the boy to be drenched more. 

Soon, they came across a village sat atop a snowy mountain. When they entered through the gates of the village a herald dressed in black greeted them.  “Aunt Wu is expecting you.”  “Really?” Though it was something simple, it still seemed to amaze Katara in a way.  The group followed the man as he led them to a building, closing the door once all four were inside. There were four sitting pillows placed on the ground. A young girl dressed in a pink kimono with her hair tied into large braids entered the room.  “My name is Meng and I’m Aunt Wu’s assistant.” The girl seemed to take a quick interest in Aang. “Well hello there.”  He rubbed his nose. “Hello.”  Y/n took a seat on one of the pillows, Aang and Katara joining her.  “Can I get you some tea, or some of Aunt Wu’s special bean curd puffs?”  Sokka sat down as well. “I’ll try a curd puff.”  “Just a second.” Meng bent down to address Aang. “So what’s your name?”  “Aang.” “That rhymes with Meng! And you’ve got some pretty big ears, don’t you?”  “Uh… I guess..” Aang seemed confused, rightfully so.  “Oh, don’t be so modest. They’re huge!” Sokka spread out his arms wide.  Y/n elbowed him in the side, as Aang looked at him angrily.  “Well Aang, it is very nice to meet you. Very nice.”  “Likewise.”  Meng exited the room, leaving the four by themselves.  “I can’t believe we’re here in the house of nonsense.”  “Try to keep an open mind, Sokka. There are things in this world that just can’t be explained. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some insight into your future?”  “It would be nice to have some bean curd puffs.”  Katara seemed annoyed by her brother, and his disbelief. Y/n rested her chin in her hands, and looked over to her.  “You really believe in this stuff don’t you, Katara?”  “You don’t?” She offered a small shrug. “Not particularly. It’s just assumptions and intuition.”  Katara looked at her with a blank expression. “You really agree with Sokka?”  “I don’t think it’s nonsense.” “But, you don’t believe in it?”  “I just don’t think it’s some magical ability, there’s logic set behind it that mostly consists of guesses.”  As Katara rolled her eyes, a woman walked into the room. “Welcome young travelers.” This must be Aunt Wu. “Now, who’s next? Don’t be shy.”  Aang, Y/n and Sokka all being disinterested, Katara stood up. “I guess that’s me.”  She walked away following Aunt Wu into another room. Sokka was chowing down on the curd puffs they were given.  “Not bad. Not bad. Mmmm!” He offered some to Aang, who declined. Y/n grabbed one from the tray when he offered them to her. Her nose wrinkled when he tried it, they weren’t really her cup of tea.  Aang looked between the two. “So… what do you think they’re talking about back there?”  “Boring stuff, I’m sure. Love. Who she’s going to marry. How many babies she’s gonna have.” Sokka shrugged as he spoke, eating another curd puff.  “Yeah… dumb stuff like that…” Aang bit at his fingernails. “Well, I’ve gotta find a bathroom!” He jumped up and ran off.  Y/n raised an eyebrow. “What’s his deal?”  Sokka stretched out over Aang and Katara’s pillows. “Probably going to listen to my sisters dumb palm reading.” “Makes sense.” 

After a few minutes Aang came back, clearly pleased by whatever he heard. “Looks like someone had a pretty good bathroom break.” “Yeah, when I was in there-” Sokka cut him off. “I don’t wanna know!”  Aunt Wu and Katara walked back out. The woman looked between the three. “Who’s next?”  “Okay, let’s get this over with.” Sokka pushed himself to his feet.  “Your future is full of struggle and anguish, most of it self-inflicted.”  “But, you didn’t read my palms or anything!” “I don’t need to- It’s written all over your face.”  Y/n held back a laugh. “Um, I can go.”  Aunt Wu looked over her for a short moment, before nodding. “Follow me.”  She got up from her seat, and followed the woman off into the room Katara had been in prior. The two sat down across from each other. Aunt Wu carefully grabbed onto her hand, and looked over her palm.  “Is there anything you’d like to know?”  “Uh…” Y/n thought for a short moment. “I’m.. not sure?”  “How about we take a look at your love line.”  “Alright.”  The woman traced her finger tip along her palm. “You will have a difficult and tragic love. Many things will go wrong, and there is no guarantee of reconciliation.”  She grimaced. “That sounds…”  “Horrible? It will be.”  “Um… Is there anything else you're seeing..?”  Aunt Wu hummed for a short moment. “I can see… where your soulmate is from. The Water Tribe.”  “Wa-Water Tribe..? Southern or Northern?!”  “That I don’t know. Though I can see you will care for several children in your future.”  “Oh. Can you.. See anything about my future in general?”  “Let’s see… Things will get worse, before they get better. Secrets will only harm you in the long run.”  She gulped.  “That is all.” 

After Aang’s reading, the group left.  “Well, now you got to see for yourselves that fortunetelling is just a big, stupid hoax.”  Katara rolled her eyes at her brother. “You’re just saying that because you’re going to make yourself unhappy your whole life.” “That woman is crazy! My life will be calm! And happy! And joyful!” Sokka got more upset with each word he spoke. He kicked a small rock off the ground, causing it to ricochet off a nearby sigh and hit him on the head knocking him back. “Ow! That doesn’t prove anything!” Y/n helped him off the ground. “If talking to that woman told me anything, it’s that she’s speaking nonsense.”  “You just didn’t like what you were told.”  She looked at Katara with a blank expression. “Clearly.” Her tone was sarcastic.  “Well, I liked my predictions. Certain things are going to turn out very well.” Katara clasped her hands together.  “They sure are.”  “Why, what did she tell you?”  Aang offered a smile to Katara. “Some stuff. You’ll find out.”  They all approach a large crowd that’s gathered at the center of the village square. Most of the people in the crowd stood in silence, looking up at the sky.  Katara looked up as well. “What’s with the sky?” “We are waiting for Aunt Wu to come and read the clouds to predict the fate of the whole village.” One of the men in the crowd offered the answer.  “The whole village?” Y/n looked at the man oddly when he nodded. “Interesting…” Weird stuff.  Aang pointed up. “That cloud looks like a fluffy bunny.” “You better hope that’s not a bunny- The fluffy bunny cloud forecast doom and destruction.”  “Do you even hear yourself?”  The man looked at Sokka with an annoyed expression. A woman from the crowd took a step towards them.  “The cloud reading will tell us if Mount Makapu will remain dormant for another year or if it will erupt.”  “We used to have a tradition once a year of going up the mountain to check the volcano ourselves, but ever since Aunt Wu moved to the village twenty years ago we have a tradition of not doing that.”  Sokka’s expression twisted to a mix of confusion and outrage. “I can’t believe you would trust your lives to that crazy old woman’s superstition.”  “Seriously…”  Katara shushed the two. “She’s coming!”  Aunt Wu walked down and through the crowd, getting up to the stage that had been set up. She gave out several predictions, all of which pleased the village members to hear, one of which included that the volcano would not erupt this year.”  Scoffing, Sokka gently elbowed Y/n in the side. “You think she’s crazy too, right?”  “Well,” Pausing, she turned her head to look at him. Your soulmate is from the Water Tribe. “Yeah, definitely. She’s talking nonsense.” She breathed out a nervous laugh. “I’m gonna go see what Katara is up to uh- See you later!”  Y/n turned fast on her heel and rushed off. 

Arms crossed over her chest, Y/n paced in the space in front of Appa. The bison was laying on the ground, just outside the village gates. He let out a grunt. She halted in her steps, looking over to him.  “You’re right, I’m stressing out about this way too much. I mean, why am I even freaking out? Aunt Wu’s predictions are just nonsense, right? You think they’re nonsense too don’t you, Appa?”  Her eyebrows furrowed together as he grunted. “No, they have to be nonsense. There’s no way that Sokka could be my soulmate, that’s ridiculous. Right?”  Appa gave another grunt, she frowned. “You’re not making me feel better here, Appa.”  Sighing, she began pacing again. “Maybe I should talk to her again? I know, I know, I said her prediction’s are nonsense, but in the case they aren’t … She didn’t tell me if my soulmate was from the Southern Water Tribe or the Northern Water Tribe, if I get another reading maybe she can pick that up…”  The bison grunted again, causing Y/n to look at him with an offended expression. “You could at least pretend to agree with me! This is why I take my issues to Momo, he’s much better at this than you!” Pausing she reached a hand out and patted his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’re definitely the better advice animal, Appa. You’re right, I’m just being crazy, it doesn’t matter. Thanks for the help Appa, I’m gonna go find the others now.”  As she walked back into the village, Y/n scoffed. “I’m being crazy? Ridiculous, Appa is clearly the crazy one here…”  Approaching Aunt Wu’s house, Y/n gave Aang a confused stare as he shouted something at a walking away Katara.  “You good there bud?”  Surprised by her sudden appearance, Aang jumped slightly. “Huh- Yeah. I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you okay, Y/n? You were acting kind of weird earlier.” “Wh-! I was not acting weird. I don’t act weird!” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You’re acting weird!”  “Uh-huh… You’re not here to get another reading, are you? Didn’t you say Aunt Wu was speaking nonsense?”  Gulping, she looked to the side nervously. “I’m not! And she is!” As if on cue, the front door was opened, Aunt Wu standing on the other side. “I knew you would be coming back eventually.”  Aang gave her a look.  “Shut up.” Y/n turned quickly, and shuffled into the building.  “You would like for your question from before to be answered, is that right?” Aunt Wu asked, as the two entered her fortune telling room.  “Well uh-” Y/n breathed out a sigh, looking to the ground shamefully. “Yeah.”  The woman led her over to an urn, it had been filled with bones. “Let’s try something else this time, pick one.” She motioned to the urn.  Y/n looked at it for a moment, before picking one. They sat down, and she threw the bone into the fire when Aunt Wu instructed her too. The bone started to crack, small gaps forming in it. “Let’s see what it says.” Aunt Wu leaned closer to the fire, observing them. “The answer to your question, I’m still not seeing. But I can see that you will reunite with a family member soon.”  “You’re sure? There’s nothing about it at all?”  Another crack formed in the bone. “Ah… here it is. He will be from the Southern Tribe.”  “The Southern Tribe…” Y/n was quick to push herself up to her feet. “I see well uh- thank you.” She bolted out of the house, uttering a quick apology to Katara when she shoved past her.  Yeah, no. That woman was crazy! That couldn’t be true, there was no way- Y/n grunted, as she aggressively ran into somebody. She stumbled a bit, but was able to steady herself.  “Ah- Sorry about t-” Realizing who she ran into, she’d cut herself off. “Oh wow, look at that, I have to go!” She turned and was ready to rush off, but a firm grip on her arm stopped her.  “Woah- Wait! We need to find Katara and warn everyone. The volcano is going to erupt.”  A very obvious wave of relief washed over her, as she turned to look at Sokka. “The volcano is going to erupt? So- Aunt Wu was wrong?”  Aang and Sokka shared a look, before both offered a nod in confirmation. She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank spirits… I mean- Not about the volcano thing that’s really bad but the Aunt- You know what nevermind, we need to get going and warn everybody!”  As she started to walk away, Aang leaned closer to Sokka. “You think she’s acting weird, right?”  “Definitely.”  “Are you two coming or not?!” 

The three found Katara, waiting outside of Aunt Wu’s door, which wasn’t exactly a surprise to any of them.  Aang offered her a small wave of greeting. “Hi, Katara.”  “Can you believe she won’t let me in? And after all the business I’ve given her?”  Y/n raised an eyebrow at the girl. “But, she doesn’t even charge.”  “I know, but still.”  “Well, we have other things to worry about. Aunt Wu was wrong about the volcano.” Sokka stepped into the conversation, causing Katara to look at him with an expression of annoyance and doubt. “Sokka, you tried to convince me she was wrong before. It’s going to take an awful lot to change my min-”  She was cut off but the rumbling sound of the mountain erupting to life, smoke started to raise from the top of it.  “Oh no!”  The group rushed to the town square, to warn the villagers. They were able to get the villagers attention, and now stood with several people surrounding them.  “Everyone! That volcano is gonna blow any second. Aunt Wu was wrong!” Sokka tried to warn the crowd, but they didn’t seem to be buying it. “Yeah, yeah, we know you don’t believe in Aunt Wu, ‘Mr, Science and Reason Lover’.”  Y/n let out a groan. “This isn’t about belief! It’s about fact, and the fact is that volcano is going to blow!” “Yeah, we know you don’t believe in Aunt Wu either.”  Slapping her palm to her forehead, she sighed. “These people are idiots.”  “If you won’t listen to them, maybe you’ll listen to me. I want to believe Aunt Wu and her predictions as you do, but my brother and Aang saw the lava with their own eyes.” The villagers didn’t even listen to Katara’s warning and reason.  “Well I heard Aunt Wu’s prediction with my own ears.”  Aang airbended himself up onto the roof of Aunt Wu’s house. “Please listen to us! You are all in danger! And we have to get out of here. You can’t rely on Aunt Wu’s prediction. You have to take fate into your own hands.”  An explosion came from the volcano, Sokka pointed in it’s direction. “Look! Can your fortune telling explain that?”  “Can your science explain why it rains?”  “Yes! Yes it can!”  The crowd wasn’t convinced, and ended up dispersing back to their homes. Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose as they left, shaking her head. Katara breathed out a sigh. “They just won’t listen to reason.”  “But they will listen to Aunt Wu.” Aang spoke up, landing back on the ground with them.  Sokka’s eyebrows furrowed together. “I know, that’s the problem.”  “Well, it’s about to become the solution. We’re taking fate in our own hands. First, I need to borrow Aunt Au’s cloud reading book.” 

With the plan set, they each did their own part to make it happen. While Aang snuck into Aunt Wu’s house to get her cloud reading book, Y/n, Sokka and Katara stood watch. Once he had it, they split into pairs. Aang and Katara flew up on Appa to change the shape of the clouds, while Y/n and Sokka went to get Aunt Wu.  “Aunt Wu! You’ll never believe it.” Y/n spoke, as the two guided her up to the stage from before.  When they got to it, Sokka pointed at the sky. “Look! Something is happening to the clouds!”  “That’s very strange. It shouldn’t…. Oh my!”  One of the clouds had been shaped into a skull, to signal volcanic doom.  Aang addressed the crowd of villagers when him and Katara got back. “We can still save the village if we act fast. Sokka has a plan.”  “Lava is gonna flow downhill to this spot. If we can dig a deep enough trench we can channel all the lava away from the village to the river.”  “If any of you are earthbenders come with me.”  A twin raised his hand. “I’m an earthbender!” The other twin raised his hand as well. “I’m not!”  “Everyone else grab a shovel-” Another explosion sounded, cutting Sokka off. “Come on, we’ve gotta hurry!”  They all hurried to start digging out a trench, using the means of both manual work and earthbending. The volcano had started to spew lava, by the time the trench was finished and led into the river.  “Everyone needs to evacuate! We’ll come for you when it’s safe!” At Aang’s direction, the villagers ran to safety. The group watched as lava started to race down the side of the volcano, engulfing the village gate and soon the cemetery. Once it reached the trench, it filled it rapidly.  “It’s too much! It’s gonna overflow!” Katara shouted, as the lava filled to the top of the trench.  Another explosion rocks the ground, burning rocks begin to rain down, along with ash. Y/n, Katara and Sokka began to run away, but stopped realizing Aang stood in place.  He ran forward, launching himself into the air with his bending. As the lava begins to overflow, he blows the lava back to keep it from advancing from the village. He drew in a large breath before expelling it, using his airbending to cool the lava into stone. The three watched in awe.  Y/n wiped at the sweat beading on her forehead. “Woah.”  “Man, sometimes I forget what a powerful bender that kid is.”  Katara looked over at her brother. “Wait, what did you just say?”  “Nothing, just that Aang is one powerful bender.”  “I suppose he is…” 

After the volcano situation was successfully dealt with, everyone had gone back to the town square. Aang returned the cloud book back to Aunt Wu.  “By the way, we kind of borrowed your book.”  “So you messed with the clouds did you!” She snatched the book angrily from his grip, before beginning to laugh. “Very clever!”  Turning his attention away from the two, Sokka addressed the villagers. “No offense, but I hope this taught everyone a lesson about not relying too much on fortune telling.”  “But Aunt Wu predicted the village wouldn’t be destroyed, and it wasn’t. She was right, after all.” One of the men spoke up. Sokka got in his face. “I hate you.”  Y/n looked between the two with an amused expression. “He has a point.” Pausing, her eyebrows furrowed together and her eyes widened. “Oh spirits, he has a point.” She dropped her head into her hands.  Katara grabbed her brother by the shoulders. “It’s ok, Sokka. Everything’s gonna be alright.”  Y/n held her head in her hands for a few moments, only looking up when someone nudged her in the shoulder. Ah, Sokka, great.  “So,” Turning to face him, she raised a questioning eyebrow at the boy. “So?”  “That was some pretty good trenching you did out there. You’re pretty strong.” Pausing, Sokka reached out and gently punched her in the arm. “For a girl.” He spoke in a joking tone, grinning wide.  “Oh, uh, thanks. You’re pretty strong yourself.” Y/n punched him in the arm, but much harder than he’d done to her. “For a boy.”  He winced, rubbing at the spot she hit. “Ow! I mean-” He cleared his throat. “That didn’t hurt.”  She let out a laugh. “Sure it didn’t.”  Climbing up on Appa as the group readied for their departure, she ignored the thought in her head that said Aunt Wu’s prediction might not be that bad.

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

WATCH OUT

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Aang, Katara, Toph, Sokka.

Requested: Yes!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part three of “destiny is a funny thing”

find part two here!

A/N: Hullo! i’m back to blow your minds again, lol. The request for this came within, like, five minutes of posting the last part. So thanks to @zvkonation​. I’m glad you guys seem to enjoy it. I hope this part will be to your liking. Altough i think it’s a bit of a mess haha.

“Hello, Zuko here!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered upon the sight of him. Team Avatar formed a half-circle, ready to fight.

You hadn’t seen him since the battle in the Crystal Catacombs, and you’d wanted it to stay that way. After his betrayal it took some time to look ahead. To stop dwelling on it and accept that it was over. Of course you had to tell the others what had happened at some point. And you did. From the fight with Jet, to their false identities, and about the tea shop. Everything but the fact that you harbored feelings for their worst enemy.

“I heard you guys flying around down there, so... I just thought i’d wait for you here,” No one responded. No one but Appa, whose gigantic tongue greeted the prince one second later. Zuko groaned at the caress, but he didn’t reject it. “I know you must be surprised to see me here,”

“Not really, since you followed us all over the world,” Sokka answered defensively, already reaching for his weapon.

“Right... Well uh... Anyway. What i wanted to tell you about is that i’ve changed, and i’m good now. And, well, i think i should join your group. Oh! and i can teach firebending to the Avatar,” He continued.

Changed. There it was again. The gaang remained silent, not giving up their fighting stances. Now the Air Temple could become a war zone at any second.

“You wanna, what now?” Toph was the first one to recover. Her face was scrunched up, black strands dangling in front of her forehead. "We all know what happened the last time you 'changed'," You sneered, raising your hands. "(Y/N), please-," This time he was the one pleading, but you wouldn't have it. You didn't want to waste any more time with him. "Save your explanation for someone who cares!" Flames appeared in your palms, burning from within.

“You can’t possibly think that any of us would trust you, can you? I mean how stupid do you think we are?” Katara wasn’t acting any calmer than in their last encounter. And rightfully so. You’d witnessed the conflict firsthand and empathised with her pain. Both of you had fallen for his trap at the same time.

“Yeah, all you’ve ever done is try to hunt us down and capture Aang,” Sokka threw in. “And besides, (Y/N) is a fire bender. She can teach him,” You pursed your lips, but remained silent. He was right. You could teach Aang. But would that truly be enough? You doubted it. All your techniques were mainly made up from watching other fire benders in your childhood. You’d never had a real teacher. If you were honest to yourself, Zuko was probably the better choice. But the risk of him killing your student made up for it.

“I’ve done some good things! I helped (Y/N) after she got attacked by Jet! Right?” The prince argued, gesturing wildly. He caught your gaze, hoping for some kind of support. But he was met with indifference. "You didn't even know that I was with the Avatar back then," You argued, growing more impatient by the second. Zuko quickly came up with another story. “I could’ve stolen your bison in Ba Sing Se, but i set him free! That's something,” The animal proceeded to lick him again, growling fondly.

“Appa does seem to like him,” The earth-bender said, relaxing her stance slightly. Her features softened. “He probably just covered himself in honey or something, so that Appa would lick him. I’m not buying it!” Sokka declined, making a cutting motion through the air, to underline his statement.

“I can understand why you wouldn’t trust me. And i know i’ve made some mistakes in the past,” Zuko acknowledged, lowering his gaze. The slight breeze tugged at his garments. For the first time since you’d known him, he wore Fire Nation clothing. The ruby red, mixed with gold and black, revealed his true heritage. His was a simple robe, instead of the royal attire you would’ve expected. Just like yours.

“Like when you attacked our village?” Your friend asked, sarcastically. “Or when you stole my mother’s necklace and used it to track us down and capture us?” His sister balled her fists, barely able to hold back. “Or when you betrayed us in the Catacombs?” You hissed.

Seeing him again was unbearable. Unbelievable. It was like the past came back to haunt you all over again. Every time you looked at him, it reminded you of the horror you'd faced. Of Aang dying in your arms. And he just wouldn’t stop trying. “Look, i admit i’ve done some awful things. I was wrong to try to capture you and to betray you. I’m sorry that i attacked the water tribe. And i never should’ve send that Fire Nation Assassin after you. I’m going to try to stop-,”

“Wait! You sent Combustion-Man after us?” One sibling interrupted, his voice getting a few octaves higher. Your eyes widened. The others seemed no less shocked, than you. Just when you’d thought it couldn’t get any worse... It did. “Well, that’s not his name, but-” Zuko tried to explain, but clearly focused on the wrong point. “Oh, sorry, i didn’t mean to insult your friend,” Sokka scoffed, holding up his boomerang. Now there was one more reason not to trust him. How many more would he add? You weren’t eager to find out. “He’s not my friend!” The fire bender exclaimed, bewildered. “That guy locked me and Katara in jail and tried to blow us all up!” Toph pointed an accusatory finger at him. He lowered his eyes, closing them briefly.

You said nothing, only staring at him, until he looked up. “(Y/N)...” He tried, his eyes softening, but you shook your head. He looked terribly lost. So lost that you almost believed him. But where love once was now resided resentment and anger. His lies were revolting. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” He redirected his attention to Aang. “You once said you thought we could be friends. You know i have good in me,” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sokka shake his head at him.

“There’s no way we can trust you after everything you’ve done. We’ll never let you join us,” The Avatar decided. “You need to get out of here. Now!” The water bender ordered, her locks framing her face like a thundercloud. “I’m trying to explain that i’m not that person anymore!” His desperate tone made your heart clench. You had to look away.

“Either you leave, or we attack!” Sokka stepped forward, boomerang gripped tightly.

Zuko sunk to his knees. "If you won’t accept me as a friend, then maybe you’ll take me as a prisoner,”

“No. We won’t!” Katara unleashed a splash of water, knocking him back. “Get out of here and don’t come back. And if we ever see you again... Well, we better not see you again!”

The air was tense as he walked off. Your fear didn’t subside.

How long would it take for his next strike to hit you?

And how many more could you take?

“Why would he try to fool us like that?” Katara questioned a while later. “Obviously he wants to lead us in some kind of trap,” Her brother stated, following her deeper into the temple. Aang and you trailed after them silently. “This is just like when we were in prison together in Ba Sing Se. He starts talking about his mother and making it seem like he’s an actual human being with feelings,” Her words hurt. But you had to admit that she spoke the truth. The tender moments you’d had with him would stay until the end of time, pointing out your failure. Your naivety. When you thought about him, you felt nothing but rage and pain making your stomach twist.

“He want’s you to trust him and feel sorry for him. Then you let your guard down and he strikes!” Sokka said gesturing furiously. His short ponytail wiggled along with his movements. “The thing is, it worked,” Katara put her sleeping bag down, kneeling to roll it out. “I did feel sorry for him. I felt like he was really confused and hurt. But, obviously, when the time came he made his choice. And we payed the price. We can’t trust him,” You nodded, hugging your own bag to your chest. “I believed everything he told me, when i lived with them. He was nice. And then he turned around and stabbed me in the back,” His amber eyes had seemed so genuine at the time... So loving. But it was all a game. A pastime as long as you were around, only to throw you away later. He’d made his choice. And you hadn’t been enough to be choosen. The memories left a burning feeling in your chest.

“I kind of have a confession to make,” the Avatar cut in. “Remember when you got sick and i got captured by Zhao?” You all ignored Sokka’s rant about Aang making him suck on frozen frogs. His poor sister had taken a look at his throat multiple times before. And to be honest, you all had. Involuntarily.

“Anyway. When Zhao had me chained up, it was Zuko who came in and got me out. He risked his life to save me,” You furrowed your brows. This was the last thing you wanted to hear about. What even was the point? Listing the few good deeds he seemed to have done, wouldn’t undo the mistakes. “No way! I’m sure he only did it so he could capture you himself,” Katara dismissed his idea. “Yeah! Face it Aang, You’re nothing but a big price to him,” Her brother agreed. “And what was all that crazy stuff about setting Appa free? What a liar,” The siblings had choosen a clear position in this debate. It didn’t really surprise you that they had each others backs. And so did you.

“Actually, he wasn’t lying,” Toph chimed in, leaning against a pillar connected to the ceiling. “Oh, hurray! In a lifetime of evil, at least he didn’t add animal cruelty to the list,” She paid no mind to Sokka’s antics and remained calm. “I’m just saying that, considering his messed up family and how he was raised, he could’ve turned out a lot worse,” You didn’t know why she would vouch for him, but you wouldn’t put her down. The sooner this discussion was over, the better. “You’re right, Toph. Let’s go find him and give him a medal! The ‘Not as much of a jerk as you could’ve been’ Award!” Katara mocked, spreading her arms in frustration. The earth bender crossed her arms, relying on her factual point of view. “All i know is, that while he was talking to us, he was sincere. Maybe you’re all just letting your hurt feelings keep you from thinking clearly,”

The group continued to bicker back and forth. “Why would you even try to defend him?” Toph pushed herself off the column, walking up to them. “Because, Katara, you’re all ignoring one crucial fact. Aang needs a fire bending teacher. It’s true, we have (Y/N), but she was never trained herself. And she never denied that she doesn’t have much knowledge about most techniques. And then another one shows up on a silver platter and you won’t even consider it?” She stomped. The rest of them turned to look at you, but you only shrugged. She was right. You’d been open with them from the beginning. “I admit that i don’t have as much... deep understanding for it as others may have. But i’m willing to give my best,”

Your reasoning seemed to be enough for the Avatar to pass. “I’m not having Zuko as my teacher,” he said. “You’re damn right, you’re not, buddy.” Sokka crossed his arms. “Well, i guess that’s settled,” You agreed. Toph grunted in frustration. “I’m beginning to wonder who’s really the blind one around here,”

The girl ranted as she walked away, only to return one day later, with burned soles.

“Toph! What happened?” She’d crawled in on her stomach, feet in the air. The front of her clothes was completely stained with dirt. Or as she liked to call it, a ‘healthy coating of earth’. ‘“My feet got burned,” Katara immediatly looked at the outcome. The skin was red and tender. Too sensitive to be touched. “Oh no! What happened?” You had no idea where she’d been all day, but considering the argument about a certain fire bender, a suspicion formed in your head. “I just told you, my feet got burned,” The brunette furrowed her brows. “I meant, how?” She hesitated, but answered while Katara used her healing powers to save whatever she could. “Well, i kind of went to see Zuko last night,” Your hunch got confirmed. The gaang was shocked to say the least. “See? You trusted Zuko and you got burned. Literally!” Sokka scolded, as he and Aang proceeded to carry Toph to the little fountain where she could stick her feet into the water. “Now i know how the rest of you feel. Not being able to see with your feet stinks,” You chuckled at her words, moving to stand behind her and putting your hands on her shoulders. She was like a little sister to you. And there was no doubt that you would make Zuko pay for what he'd done to her, should you ever see him again.

To your own dismay, that happened sooner than you’d expected.

A few seconds later to be exact.

“Watch out!” You yelled, spotting the assassin, as an explosion shook the temple. The man stood on a platform above, shooting at you. Or, to be precise, at Aang.

“Stop!” You weren’t that surprised to see Zuko next to him. The shock came more with the words he was saying. “I don’t want you hunting the Avatar anymore!” He commanded, but it was of no use. The boys grabbed Toph, making sure she was safe between them, as you all hid behind what was left of the fountain. “The mission is off! I’m ordering you to stop!” But no matter what he said, he was only cast aside. “I won’t pay you, if you keep attacking!” The prince kept trying to get to him. Not even his flames seemed to impress the man. “I’ll pay you double to stop!”

The assassin didn’t stop. Instead he aimed at Zuko himself. Your heart stopped for a second when he conjured flames around him to escape the attack. Then he was gone. Peaking over the stones you hid behind, you could faintly spot a silhouette clinging to the braches below.

You used the opening, screamed as you ran forward, throwing fireballs at the assassin with all your might. You couldn’t let him kill the prince. That task was already reserved for you, personally. The Avatar soon joined you, producing a cyclone. But neither that, nor Katara’s ice spikes could stop him. Everything you threw at him, he shrugged off. And he continued to destroy the temple in the process. “He’s going to blast this whole place right off the cliffside!” Toph shouted over the noise. “I can’t get out to water bend at him without getting blown up,” Katara stated, when you all covered behind a wall. You dared to poke your head out for a second, but you couldn’t see anything before he took another shot. “I can’t get an angle on him from down here,”

The Team was at a loss, until Sokka seemed to have an idea. “I know how to get an angle on him!” He followed the line of fire with his eyes, and took the chance, flinging his boomerang. And he hit. The assassin stumbled on his feet, trying to shoot once more, only to go down in the process.

The platform under him exploded, erasing what remained of him. 

Raising your head you could see Zuko managing to get back up.

He’d made it.

“I can’t believe i’m saying this, but thanks, Zuko,” Aang stood in between all of you, being the first to greet him. “Hey, what about me? i did the boomerang thing,” Sokka said, striking a pose. You raised a brow at him, but gave him a pat on the shoulder, which seemed to raise his spirits.

“Listen, i know i didn’t explain myself very well yesterday. I’ve been through a lot in the past three years. It’s been hard. But i’m realizing that i had to go through all those things to learn the truth. I thought i had lost my honor and that somehow my father was the only one who could return it to me. But i know now that no one can give you your honor. It’s something you earn for yourself, by choosing to do what’s right. All i want now is to play my part in ending this war. And i know my destiny is to help you restore balance in the world,” He turned and bowed to Toph. A traditional sign of respect in the Fire Nation. “And i’m sorry for what i did to you. It was an accident. Fire can be dangerous and wild. So as a firebender i need to be more careful and control my bending, so i don’t hurt people unintentionally,”

You clenched your hands at your sides. He didn’t even need his bending to hurt people. And to your horror, Aang seemed to be considering it.

“I think you are supposed to be my fire bending teacher. When i first tried to learn fire bending, i hurt Katara. And after that, i never wanted to fire bend again. (Y/N) helped me overcome my innitial fear. And yet destiny keeps bringing us together. Now that i know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love, i can’t ignore that any longer,” He gifted Zuko with a bow of his own. “I’d like you to teach me,” The prince immitated his gesture. “Thank you. I’m so happy you’ve accepted me into your group,”

“Not so fast. I still have to ask my friends if it’s ok with them,” He turned back to face you. “Toph, you’re the one that Zuko burned. What do you think?” She sat on a rock next to you, shrugging. “Go ahead and let him join. It’ll give me plenty of time to get back at him for burning my feet,” Her motion clearly indicated that she would beat him up later. Thoroughly.

“Sokka?” The boy remained silent for a second, but eventually came around. “Hey, all i want is to defeat the Fire Lord. If you think this is the way to do it, then i’m all for it,” The Avatar smiled upon hearing his answer and nodded, hoping to gain more approval from the rest of you.

“Katara?” She wasn’t thrilled about the idea. She didn’t even bother to hide it. But she agreed for Aang’s sake. “I’ll go along with whatever you think is right,” The prince was ecstatic, a smile spreading on his face. “I won’t let you down, i promise!”

Everyone seemed to agree.

“And (Y/N)?” Aang looked at you with curious eyes, ready to hear your opinion. You could see Zuko breaking a sweat behind him, as you glared at his face. “I’m sorry Aang, but i can’t be a part of the group. Not if he is,” You said, flames coming to life around your fists. “But i do want to stay by your side. So i’ll prove to you that i am the better choice,” Passing the Avatar you walked up to the prince, until his face was only centimeters apart from yours.

“Prince Zuko,” Your tone was sharper than a knife. “I challenge you to an Agni Kai,”

on to part four!

tags: @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​  @duh-dobrik​ @yeetscreetiwannaeat​  @ashnkamfeun @hailkyoshi​ @shortmexicangirl​​

(if you want to be added/removed from any taglist, please tell me in the comments)

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Meet Drusilla Blackthorn (fan fic)

This is Chap 3 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story. 

I am introducing Dru & Jaime in this Chapter. 

And of course, Kit & Ty are being as gooey as ever.

AO3 Link here.

*****

“Look at you trying to flee from the crime scene.”

Jaime startled and his hand froze on the doorknob. He whirled to face Dru, who was watching him with a glitter of amusement in her Blackthorn blue-green eyes. She was lying on her side, arm angled upwards, head on hand. Her large black shirt hugged her soft curves and barely covered her thighs, revealing a criminally vast expanse of her smooth milky skin. A message was printed at the level of her chest. Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234. Apparently, it had been a gift from Jace. Her long dark brown hair was pulled in a braid, crossing over one of her shoulders. He knew from staring at her beautiful face while she was sleeping or otherwise unaware, that tiny freckles sprinkled her rosy cheeks, that her long dark eyelashes - not unlike her brothers’ - followed a perfect curve as if she was constantly wearing mascara and that the luscious red of her full lips deepened when she bit them. As she was doing right now. He gulped and hoped with everything he had that she couldn’t hear the loud thump thump of his frantic heart.

“I am not-”

“Relaaax. You look like you just hid a corpse in the cupboard and are trying to make a run for it.”

How could she not understand? When he had met her three years ago, he had thought she was cute, sweet, funny, dependable and - admittedly - already a badass. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had occurred but, over time, sincere friendship had turned into deep affection and deep affection had somehow turned into lust and… love? In any case, there definitely was lust. He fought the urge to cross himself reflexively.

She had never looked her age, and that hadn’t changed with the years. She had entirely grown out of her baby fat, her features sharpening and her limbs lengthening, but she still had a voluptuous figure. She looked like a sexy grown woman, and certainly not like a sixteen-year-old girl. But she was, he reminded himself.

Even if the mundane statutory rape laws dit not apply to Shadowhunters, he still felt like he was breaking some kind of unspoken rule, thirsting after a sixteen-year-old. It didn’t help that the package came with an army of very scary brothers. The villains from Dru’s favorite horror movies had nothing on them. The thought of Julian Blackthorn alone discovering the truth was enough to keep him up at night.

“You know what it will look like if I bump into one of your brothers. If they find out I have spent the whole night here…”

“So? Nothing actually happened. And you did nothing wrong except fall asleep in front of “Old Boy”...”

“Dru- I am serious…”

“So am I! This movie is awesome! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dru…”

Dru sighed and moved to a sitting position against the headboard, knees up, arms encircling her legs. Jaime tried not to stare as her shirt lifted higher over her thighs.

“Jaime. You know what your problem is? You still haven’t gotten into your head that it’s not my brothers you should be afraid of. The Blackthorn women are much scarier.”

“I can believe that…” Jaime muttered under his breath.

“Anyway, don’t worry about them, they’re probably going to sleep in since they’ve been very busy last night. Mark with Cristina, Julian with Emma, and Ty with… Kit.”

Jaime’s eyes widened.

“You think Ty and Kit…?”

Dru lifted both her dark eyebrows at him. “Are you seriously asking me to confirm or elaborate on my brother’s sex life?”

“No, no, of course not…” Jaime felt heat rushing to his cheeks. Why did everyone get to have sex but him? Maybe because you've been pining for a sixteen-year-old for months now, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. He wanted to punch himself.

“Just kidding, Jaime. Look at you blushing… Wait- I hope you don’t have a problem with my brother being with… a guy?”

She suddenly leaned forward, her gaze piercing.

Jaime knew how fiercely protective of her siblings Dru was. She had quite a reputation at the Shadowhunter Academy, as someone not to be messed with or rubbed the wrong way. She had somehow found a way to acquire knowledge on people and discover their most dirty secrets. She had no qualms using the intelligence when it came to protecting her family or the Blackthorns’ reputation. Although she did not hesitate to break a few arms and ribs to prove her point, most of the time, she operated in a more subtle way. With finesse, one could say.

A Shadowhunter student who had had the ill-conceived idea of calling Mark Blackthorn “the Unseelie King’s sex toy” was living proof of that. Jaime had not heard the full details of the story but it apparently involved a wide collection of dildos, very enthusiastic piskies, and had earned the boy several nicknames that he would probably never part from.

Judging by the look on Dru’s face now, Jaime’s life was hanging by the thread of his answer. She didn’t need to worry.

“No! Hey! What the hell? Of course not! You know me, right?”

She relaxed, leaning casually against the headboard, her arms crossed behind her head.

“Not as much as I would like to...” she replied, with a wink. “But yeah, I guess so.” A wicked grin split across her face.

Forgive me, Father, for I am this close to becoming a sinner, Jaime thought as he hurriedly escaped from the room.

****

Kit grabbed Ty by the arm just as he was slipping out of bed.

“Not so fast, Centurion.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Are you trying to sneak out? You got what you came for and now you’re tossing me like an unpaired sock? I am wounded.”

Ty just stared at him.

Hmmm. Maybe too early for humour.

“I don’t think I’ve had my fill yet, that’s all…” Kit clarified, as he stretched like a cat. Or a lion. Definitely like a lion.

Both Ty’s V shaped eyebrows rose.

“I thought… You said you needed your rest.”

“Ty, I was not talking about that, however tempting. There are other things in life than sex.”

“Is that a fact?” Ty asked playfully, a corner of his mouth lifting. Okay. Virgin Mary turned into the God of Sex overnight. How the hell did that happen?

“I want a cuddle.” Kit pouted as he snuggled up against Ty and encircled him with his arms.

Ty surrendered to his embrace, falling back on the bed. Kit rolled on top of him and pinned his arms above his head. He started alternating between brushing and pressing his lips over Ty’s face, tracing his beautiful features from memory, with his eyes closed.

“I… have… some… errands...to… run… Mysteries… to… uncover,” Ty gasped between feathery kisses.

“I am a mystery.” Kit nibbled Ty’s earlobe, before whispering in his ear. “Uncover me.”

“You are naked,” Ty rightfully observed, though his voice was quavering and his breaths short.

“I am. But have you explored every avenue?”

“Fair point, Watson,” Ty said in a husky voice, before swallowing hard.

“That’s what I am here for, Sherlock,” Kit replied. He kissed Ty’s eyelids, his nose, and started exploring Ty’s mouth with his tongue.

They rubbed against each other, their limbs entangled, as the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until both had to draw back to catch their breath.

“I love you,” Kit blurted.

“I love you too,” Ty replied softly, staring at Kit with his gray eyes half closed. He looked dizzy.

“I love you more,” Kit retaliated.

“How could you ever verify that?” Ty asked, his eyes widening with a look of genuine surprise.

“Easy. I just know that no one in the history of the universe could have ever loved anyone the way I love you.”

Ty looked - if possible - even more puzzled.

“I know it because my soul belongs with yours, Ty. If there are other worlds out there where I exist and you don’t, I don’t ever want to meet myself there. For what kind of empty shell - or monster - would I be if I hadn’t met you?”

They both startled as they heard a knock on the door.

“I am not decent!” Kit answered, as he reached hurriedly for a blanket to cover Ty’s body.

“This has never bothered you before,” Jace ‘s voice replied through the door. “Does this mean you are not the only one who’s not presentable in there? I just came across Mark running around naked in the corridors and I am pretty sure I have seen enough Blackthorns’ buttocks for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kit answered, his voice muffled under the blanket covering both his and Ty’s bodies completely, like two kids curled up under a makeshift tent. Ty was shaking with silent laughter.

“Sure you don’t,” Jace answered, but Kit could hear his footsteps receding.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

The thing is, Ian was right. Mickey doesn't know any better, the writers on the show made sure of that, because for them the only important thing about Mickey is his devotion to Ian. But we're a bit more realistic about it and can analyze Ian's actions without being limited by someone's poor imagination.

There’s a lot to address here, so please forgive me for the lengthy response, anon! 🙂 I’ll preface all of it by saying this: my general opinion is that if Mickey has what makes him happy, we should support that regardless of how we feel about the other party (with obvious exceptions like physical abuse, etc.). If Byron was what made him happy, I would support him even if I couldn’t stand the guy. The same goes for any other character in any other franchise, at least for me. Now, onto your points:

I’m not sure which scene you mean when you mention Ian saying he doesn’t know any better, but I’m definitely with you on our ability to analyze Ian’s actions. The problem here is that analyzing will always be colored by perspective and implicit bias. If your fave is Mickey, anything that hurts him will look a whole lot worse than what he does that hurts Ian and perhaps lead to conducting a less than thorough analysis or rejecting sensible arguments about Ian’s character. Based on the number of posts I see about how Mickey is the only good thing on the show, I’d argue that that is a very real danger in many of the takes on Ian as well as everyone else. I’ve seen some pretty heavy demonizing of characters who hurt Mickey’s feelings or aren’t actively sweet to him, which is a bit unrealistic since that’s life and Mickey certainly never seems to mind or let it keep him down for long.

As far as him not knowing better, on the whole, I don’t think that gives Mickey much credit at all. Actually, it doesn’t really give him any credit, which is sort of surprising given how vehemently people defend his IQ, academically and emotionally, against what amounted to a joke. Mickey knows that Ian messes up and does things that are questionable at best and hurtful at worst. He’s not an innocent, pure character who endures heartache after heartache to throw himself at the brick wall of earning Ian’s attention. He gives as good as he gets and has hurt Ian too. They’re human and written very realistically in that regard. Their love for one another allows them to forgive transgressions and move on, not hold grudges or “not know any better” with regards to what they deserve. Love isn’t about what we deserve, and I think it’s important to remember that a relationship won’t last if it’s based on an arbitrary numerical score of who has done more harm than the other. Things happen. Poor decisions are made. They can allow that to break them or work through it. Mickey has actively chosen to work through it because at the end of the day, he loves Ian more than he is interested in finding something else. In earlier seasons, Ian similarly chose to work through it with someone who might never be in a position to come out and begin the full relationship that he so desperately wanted. That’s beautiful to me, not contemptible.

As far as the only important thing about Mickey being his devotion to Ian, we’ll also have to agree to disagree. 🙂 In the early seasons, while Ian was certainly the catalyst for it, Mickey’s story was about coming out more than his devotion to Ian. That’s why we have the scenes where he taunted Kash (focus: keeping his secret), purposely got sent back to juvie (focus: hiding from Terry if he found out), and got married (focus: self-preservation). We do absolutely see a rising devotion for Ian during this period, of course, and there’s no argument that his character was written expressly to be Ian’s love interest. The writers still made him a well-developed one with his own motives, fears, and desires outside of Ian in a way that later love interests didn’t get. (My own belief is that they didn’t intend for the later relationships to last like they did Mickey, but regardless of the validity there, Mickey was written as a character with more depth from the very beginning and existed before anything with Ian ever happened.)

The first half of s4 shows Mickey on his own merits. He’s handling his new position as a patriarch of the family, running the business while Terry is fairly hands-off and watches. He decides to help the Russian girls and ends up going into business with Kev. We learn a lot about Mickey’s character outside of Ian during that time. In fact, there are only a couple of scenes that really focus on him missing Ian until finding him becomes Mickey’s task: asking Kev if anyone has heard from him, the bathroom scene, and the later Alibi scene. Otherwise, the early s4 writers showed us a Mickey who was compassionate, ambitious, utilitarian, entrepreneurial, and collaborative—all without tying it back to Ian. Kev and V are renowned friends of the Gallaghers, but Mickey doesn’t grow closer to Kev in an attempt to learn more about what happened to Ian. He doesn’t help the girls because he thinks Ian would want him to. In fact, with the exception of those scenes I mentioned, we have no reason to believe that Ian is on Mickey’s mind at all while he’s doing these other things. He has a life outside of Ian just like the opposite is true, and s4 went to great lengths to show us that.

The second half of s4 is, once again, about keeping his secret until he decides to come out. (Read: decides to, is not forced to. More on that in a moment.) Yes, his devotion to Ian is once again the catalyst for some of his decisions, but there’s much more to it than that. Once again, we still see scenes with Mickey operating on his own for his own purposes. He doesn’t leave home entirely because he wants to be with Ian—he also wants to escape from his wife and pretend that things are the way they used to be. He doesn’t scam money from the rich guy or take more than his cut from the register at the Alibi to protect Ian—he does it for self-preservation so that Svetlana won’t get him killed. He doesn’t go to the baptism to keep up appearances and protect Ian—he does it to keep up appearances for himself and because...well, like it or not, that’s his son. The lattermost is something Ian specifically does not want him to do, and if he does, he wants to be there. Mickey goes against his wishes because it’s about protecting himself (and perhaps, by extension, their relationship), and rightfully so. Coming out at the Alibi does once again tie to Ian as a catalyst for change in Mickey’s life, but it didn’t have to happen. Mickey could have grabbed his coat, told everyone goodnight, and left with Ian. At no time did Ian tell him that he would leave if Mickey didn’t come out to everyone or admit they’re a couple, even if he did make reference to the fact that Mickey was hiding and not free. All Ian wanted was for Mickey not to treat him like a mistress or expect him to stick around if he did. Instead, it was a logical culmination of Mickey’s written development to come out. He’s stronger and more independent than he used to be. He’s capable of taking care of himself and surviving in the world without relying on Terry. He’s in a position where yes, he’s still justifiably terrified of coming out and what it’ll mean where Terry is concerned, but he’s able to do it. Ian is a catalyst for it, but being devoted to him isn’t Mickey’s only reason.

In s5, a lot of Mickey’s story does revolve around his devotion to Ian, but not any more than Ian’s revolves around devotion to him in the second half of s3. We still see Mickey doing business and running the family, but having Ian be his more central concern makes sense because Ian is sick and the writers have already told us that his health is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. In denial or not, Mickey knows this. And so we see his story center around Ian because, to an extent, it has to. Ian is mentally and physically sick. He’s adjusting not only to meds, but to a label that makes him feel ashamed and afraid. Mickey is devoted to him, and so Mickey does everything he can to take care of him. But here’s the thing: that scares Ian too. He’s seen what happens to the people who try to take care of Monica. He knows how it felt to try only to be ignored or betrayed or abandoned. The breakup isn’t about anger at being coddled or, by my interpretation and Ian’s own words, him being selfish. It’s about him seeing that Mickey’s devotion is going to keep him from living his life and ultimately (in his opinion) hurt him beyond repair, and so he sets Mickey free. It hurts him, yes, but it does work.

Because even though we don’t see it happen on-screen, s6 through s9 can’t possibly be Mickey sitting in a prison cell pining over Ian. If that was going to happen, we’d have seen it in s4. By this point, we know who Mickey is outside of Ian and can assume that he’s operating in much the same way on the inside until he figures out what he wants to do. We know he and Svetlana had a business arrangement where they took out contracts for work he could do in prison. We know that he makes a business acquaintanceship with Damon, which means he was probably involved in dealing or smuggling while there. Neither of these things can possibly revolve around devotion to Ian because they could conceivably keep him from Ian longer. His sentence is fifteen years, and if he’s counting on being out in eight to be with Ian, he needs to be on his best behavior. He’s not. He’s unapologetically not when he sees Ian again and talks about what Damon is. Ian looks less than comfortable with it, but that’s not why they ditch him—it’s because he might get Mickey caught with his behavior. Even breaking out happened once he was able to solidify an opportunity working for a cartel, so while Ian may have been another catalyst (besides the obvious desire to get out of prison), the decision wasn’t about devotion to him. The only decision that was about that was the one he made at the border to let Ian go without making him feel worse about it. He’s devoted to Ian, so he knows that dragging him along on the run into the unknown won’t be good for him. He needs stability and a support system and medication, none of which Mickey can provide if they cross that border together. So, out of his devotion, he lets Ian go. They have a heartfelt goodbye and separate for what they think is the last time.

Does Mickey’s devotion lead him to turning himself in? Absolutely. But not before spending another long stint living his own life. The writers make sure we know that he had a life without Ian playing a role in it, once again conducting business and operating successfully on his own merits. They’re limited in what they can show because Noel wasn’t available, which made logistics important, but they didn’t leave him high and dry or insinuate that he was waiting around in Mexico for an excuse to return to Ian. He was once again a successful businessman in the illicit economy. When he returns in s10, his storyline does then appear to revolve around devotion to Ian more—but it doesn’t. Mickey has people he hangs out with in prison separate from Ian and with no ties to him. With the Byron situation, it wasn’t about proving devotion for Ian when he thought Ian questioned it—it was about hurting Ian because of what happened at the courthouse, even after he found out what Ian was really afraid of. If the writers were only interested in showing his devotion to Ian, he would have ditched Byron the second Ian told him that he was scared of his disorder and ruining them. He doesn’t. He sticks it out because Mickey is so much more than his relationship with Ian: he’s independent, vengeful, hot-headed, impulsive, and stubborn. These are traits that have been set up by the writers throughout the series both with and without ties to their relationship, and he very adamantly adheres to his revenge-plot-turned-catalyst-for-Ian-pulling-his-head-out-of-his-ass because he isn’t all about devotion to Ian.

I completely respect your opinion on the matter and appreciate the opportunity to discuss it at length! Ultimately, it boils down to this for me: the writers get a lot off flack for some of the narrative decisions and, of course, they won’t always be to our liking. Opinions and preferences assure us of that. I don’t think it’s about us being more realistic or more capable of analyzing a character, though. Everything above was written. It wasn’t spelled out and handed to us, no, but the writers put it there so that we could then analyze it. There’s no analyzing a blank slate or someone whose only narrative is devotion to Ian. The writers have given us a wealth of things to consider when it comes to all the characters, Mickey included, and we wouldn’t be able to have this conversation if they didn’t. Mickey is intelligent, thoughtful, insightful, and more than capable of standing on his own two feet as both a fictional person and a character. If he chose Ian, then it’s because he has weighed all these things and found them to be nothing in the grand scheme of their love for one another. Again, though, we can agree to disagree. Thank you for this ask—I find myself writing more about Ian, so I had a lot of fun thinking back over the series to answer it! 😃🧡

[amariaamaris]

Of changes and Revelations Part 2

Here’s the second part! It took me awhile because well... life. Anyway I hope you enjoy and comments and constructive criticism is always welcome!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the past two weeks, Bonnie has been getting to know the group from Wakanda. All of them came to the collective agreement to give her a crash course on, well... everything. Then they would all help her set up to move to Wakanda while allowing her to keep her Grams house for as long as she wants it.

The first thing T’Challa told her about Wakanda and their royalty... don’t bow, they don’t do that in Wakanda. They have very different ways of giving and showing respect. For the most part, if you give respect you will receive respect. Everyone in Wakanda is essential to it’s strength and continued growth. Ayo and Okoye taught her how to tell what rank and clearance one person has and they have started teaching her how to fight. Apparently she made a good impression because they want her as an honorary Dora Milaje. 

James Barnes or rather Bucky has started teaching her self defense and certain spy things. Why she would ever need to know that is beyond her, but Bonnie just goes with it. He’s also been teaching her how to spot someone trailing you and to know friend from foe in a split second. 

Meanwhile, N’Jadaka - or Erik as he insists on her calling him, she chooses to ‘forget’ that just to annoy him (don’t tell him that) - has started teaching her their language and other nuances of their culture that the others may glaze over. She may of may not have had a miniature panic attack when N’Jadaka had her look at the inside of her lower lip... he didn’t stop laughing for a good 15 minutes after.

When she started to cry again, he immediately got serious and once again helped to piece her back together. After every truth bomb he gave her and Bonnie’s shattering... she felt completely raw and much like an empty husk. Everything started making sense; her strange dreams of panthers and a language that she couldn’t seem to find no matter how hard she looked, lost memories, her father seeming to hate her for more that just who and what her mother and grandmother were. Her parents constant arguing and why she was never allowed to truly be by herself and with herself. Of course that changed when her mother left, but by then her memories were deeply buried.

Bonnie allows herself to close her eyes and let out a deep cleansing sigh into her mug of tea as she settles more into the bench swing, underneath a very cozy blanket. Her eyes flicker open to look down at the grimoire she has on her lap. Before she can start reading again, she feels eyes on her. Bonnie allows herself to slowly look up and promptly blinks in surprise at who she sees standing at the steps of the porch. Then she blinks again wondering if she is seeing things in the late evening with the fairy lights lining the porch. Upon seeing that the person is really there... well it takes all of Bonnie’s will to not groan in annoyance.

“What do you want Elijah Mikaelson? Are you here to demand my services? It didn’t go over very well for the oh so powerful hybrid.” Discretely Bonnie reaches to her wrist and lightly touches one of her kimoyo beads to let N’Jadaka know that she had a visitor (since he is in her grams house doing something). When all he does is stare at her in response, Bonnie lets out an aggravated breath. She starts to move to get up and go inside, Elijah quickly moves to step forward. The barrier quickly stops him in his steps.

“Miss Bennett please, I’m not here to upset you and not here to ask you to do something. Please, just stay there... I would like to apologize.” Bonnie just barely stops her jaw from dropping in shock, the only thing that stops her is feeling the kimoyo bead warming up. She quickly brushes over it to let N’Jadaka know that he didn’t need to interfere (yet). Bonnie gives Elijah a slight nod and settles back in her spot.

She watches as he shifts briefly then adjusts his cuffs while quietly clearing his throat.

“I would like to apologize for all of the pain I have caused you. I knew some of your ancestors and I respected every single one of them. I loved and respected Ayana, She was like a second mother to my siblings and myself. I regret that I have ever done any of the things that I did to you. I don’t expect your forgiveness and am not worthy of it. I would like to offer you perhaps some sort of closure. I would have written a letter to you to apologize, but you deserve more than just written word.” Bonnie can feel her buried emotions from all of the shit she was put through for Elena Gilbert come up and quickly started to blink her tears away.

“You’re right,  you don’t deserve my forgiveness, but I do. Elijah, I do forgive you. Out of everyone in my life even my friends and family... especially them. None of them ever apologized to me. As much as I hate to say this... Thank you, thank you for apologizing and actually meaning it. Thank you for doing what you did because your actions may have caused me pain, but it also helped to open my eyes. So, thank you. Although, if you ever and I mean ever try anything like that with me again... I will finish what your mother started.” She let herself watch as the different emotions flickered across Elijah’s face, which finally settled on a small, soft smile. Which evidently made him look extremely genuine and attractive.

“You Miss Bennett are an enigma, you deserve more than anyone has ever given you. I see now where they they get their compassion from. I hope you can live a life worthy of who you are.” A real joy filled smile covers Bonnie’s face and lights it up, causing Elijah’s breath to slightly hitch.

“Elijah, you are a good man. I can see why my ancestors like you. You deserve better too, get yourself out of here. Your siblings eventually have to figure it out for themselves. You are not accountable for their actions. You have the right to live your life for yourself.” Elijah briefly looks down, and lets out a slow shuddering breath, feeling all the history and buried emotions come off his chest and shoulders. He carefully reaches behind him and picks up a bag and carefully sets it down on the first step.

“These are all your ancestors grimoire's that were in our possession. Including Ayana’s, they belong with the Bennett line... we never should have had them with us in the first place. Thank you Miss Bennett, you have shown me more kindness and compassion than I deserve, goodnight.” Bonnie tilts her head, listening to the whispers upon the slight breeze as a soft smile comes upon her face.

“Goodnight, my ancestors say that you have been fully forgiven. They offer you and only you protection from other witches, do not do anything to make them pull that protection. They will not be as forgiving if you do.” It is silent for a bit as they both allow that promise echo in the air backed up by the layered whispers. Then with a slight smile on her face, Bonnie decides to add one more thing, as an olive branch for Elijah from her directly. “Oh, one more thing... Ahnika, my name, it’s Ahnika.”

If the name confused Elijah he didn’t show it and he took the olive branch for what it was. “Ahnika... Goodnight.” As he slowly walks his way down the path to the sidewalk, Elijah hears Bonnie quietly return his farewell. “Goodnight Elijah.”

After waiting for a bit, Bonnie gets up and walks to pick up the bag full of grimoires. Before she could touch the straps, N’Jadaka is there; wrapping an arm around her waist and with his other, picking up the bag with ease. “Kitten, care to tell me who that white suited man was?” Bonnie just barely held back the shiver that wants to make its way through her body. His lips are right at her ear and his front is flush with her back.

Bonnie just continues to stare at the bag in his hands and mutely shakes her head. N’jadaka lets out a huff, as he easily moves both of them back to the bench swing. He carefully sets the bag down next to the swing as he sits himself in her spot and Bonnie on his lap. Of course throughout this time he has had no care for her personal space. Bonnie is positive that he just enjoys watching her reactions.

“Kitten you better start talking, you were the one that brought my attention to an unwanted visitor. If you force me to make you talk, you won’t like how I am.” Bonnie turns on his lap to face him as his arms wrap around her to keep her steady. 

“Don’t worry about him N’Jadaka, I thought that he came here to cause problems. He just came her to apologize for his actions. That’s all” 

“I’m really supposed to believe that? Was he trying to bribe you to forgive him?” Bonnie can’t help but watch in fascination as what James had dubbed the Killmonger look filled his eyes and face. Causing his eyes to darken, his jaw to clench tightly, and tension seemed to cover his entire body. Even as she finds the look fascinating, she knows that if she doesn’t calm him down before he tries to go after Elijah... He would end up dead within the night. So, with careful fingers she starts tracing the raised markings that always peek slightly out of his shirt. Marking him as an experienced killer.

“He didn’t bribe me, I’m ready to move on from this life. I was willing to forgive him because he was honest in his regret, I want to move on from my hate. What goes on in this town with my friends and the others in none of my business nor is it my problem. Those are the grimoires that my ancestors had, they rightfully belong with the Bennett’s. He was just returning them to the correct hands.”

N’Jadaka’s eyes seem to switch and darken in a different way, a way that Bonnie couldn’t read. Though, the shiver that danced down her spine felt particularly pleasurable. Without either of them realizing it, her fingers had danced their way under his shirt following the markings. Feeling the ripple of muscles following her fingers movements caused a small smile to twitch at her lips.

“Kitten, don’t start something your not ready to finish.” N’Jadaka’s tense voice broke the peace and silence of the night. Causing Bonnie to freeze and slowly meet his eyes. She takes notice of the fire blazing in his eyes and his clenched jaw and how his hands are white knuckled from the effort of not moving. Bonnie studies his eyes a little longer and bites her lip. Feeling a flare of playfulness, determination, and something else she really didn’t want to focus on right now; made her choice.

She allowed her figures to move across his markings again and within a few seconds a snarl escapes him (sounding much like the big cats that they have in their history). Before she can react, N’Jadaka is on the move; throwing her over his shoulder, opening the door, stalking inside, allowing the door to close with a definitive click. Bonnie’s shocked laughter seems to stay ringing in the air as the bag of grimoires are left out on the porch. Where her ancestors stay outside to watch over the land. After all, none of them particularly want to watch their descendant in that way.

----

Early the next morning Bonnie or rather Ahnika quietly slips out of bed and throws on N’Jadaka’s shirt. She slips down the stairs and quietly out the front door to grab the grimoires. Once she gets them inside, she carefully starts to put them in the box with the other grimoires. Right as Ahnika finishes she feels N’Jadaka’s presence behind her.

“It’s way to early in the morning for this kitten. The day can wait.” It was, being only 3 o’clock it was definitely way to early. Though before she can say anything,  N’Jadaka latches onto the side of her neck. Then, quick enough to give Ahnika whiplash; picks her up and carries her back to bed. Yes, the day definitely could wait.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! Peace, love, and joy!

[snarktheater]

Ready Player Two — Opening Cutscene & Chapter 0

Hello again.

It’s been a while. I haven’t been active on this blog since, fittingly enough, Ready Player One. I was going to do this sooner—even had an alarm set up and everything—but then, it turns out, I’m feeling so much negativity about the world in general that a book just pales in comparison.

Seriously, I had to scrap this post’s entire intro because it’s not even 2020 anymore as I write this. And you know, maybe that’s for the best. I’m not really in the mood for doom and gloom and bitching anymore. I uninstalled Twitter from my phone a while back, I’ve been doing good at my daily writing sprints, my biggest fanfic project concluded on a positive note from people I didn’t even realize had been following it for years.

So I don’t know what this is going to be like. My commentary, I mean; I’ve heard echoes of what the book is like, so I’m not expecting a surprise there.

The book opens right after the end of Ready Player One, in a “Cutscene” where Wade recounts to us what happened after he won Halliday’s contest. It also assumes you remember exactly who the main characters of the book are, which is a bold move for a sequel that came out almost a decade after the original.

Technically, I could just look up the details I’m fuzzy about. But also, I think it’s more authentic if I don’t. I trust my memory enough that if I’m wrong, it’ll be in subtle enough ways that it’ll almost be a private jokes between all of us. An “if you know, you know” sort of error system. And I don’t think there’s anything more true to the spirit of this book than that.

Shoto had flown back home to Japan to take over operations at GSS’s Hokkaido division.

So Wade starts his tenure with nepotism. Wasn’t Shoto really young? Why is he qualified to run anything?

Aech was enjoying an extended vacation in Senegal, a country she’d dreamed of visiting her whole life, because her ancestors had come from there.

You know what, I’m not touching “send the token black character back to Africa.” This isn’t my lane.

And Samantha had flown back to Vancouver to pack up her belongings and say goodbye to her grandmother, Evelyn.

Why is she saying goodbye? Why, she’s moving to Columbus to be with Wade, of course! It’s not like there was anything else in her life. Was there? And why isn’t she referred to as Art3mis? I’m pretty sure Wade found out all of their offline names in the last book, and the inconsistency mildly bothers me.

These three sentences are back to back, by the way. Someone—I forget who—once described Ready Player One as a book that’s fun to write a wiki about, because it’s got fun concepts to summarize about until you realize that all the emotional connective tissue you need to turn a list of things into a story is missing, and that’s roughly how this first page feels.

Hell, the first line of the book is Wade telling us he remained offline for nine whole days after winning the contest, but by the end of the second paragraph we’re already to him logging back into the OASIS to "distract himself from [his and Samantha’s] reunion.

I’ll give Ernest Cline one thing: it feels like he wrote this opening nine days after the first book and did about as much maturing as a teenage boy would do between the two books.

Way more time is spent describing Wade’s OASIS rig, or the in-game planet where the climax of the last book happened, than anything else in this introduction. He is immediately greeted by a crowd of adoring fans who have been waiting over a week for him to come back in the game, because they’re all grateful that our protagonist and his friends restored their avatars after they were annihilated by the Sixers.

You’d think the adoring fans would serve some kind of purpose, or that something would happen, but no. Wade immediately goes “ew, people” and teleports away, since he essentially has ultimate powers within the game. With a caveat: the powers are actually coming from the Robes of Anorak he’s wearing, and I’m mentioning that in the hopes that it will pay off sometime in the book’s future, assuming Cline at least learned to do that. But still, let’s not skip too fast the fact that we introduced that crowd of adoring fans for no other purpose than to tell us they’re out there, because it fits right in with the last book’s attempts at saying as little as humanly possible in as many words as possible.

Anyway, Wade went back into Anorak’s study, where he arbitrarily checks out the Easter Egg he got at the end of the last book, and finds an inscription on it. I was dreading another riddle, but no, it’s just straight-up instructions to a vault in the GSS archives, so Wade logs off and goes to check it out.

Of course Halliday had put [the archives] [on the 13th floor]. In one of his favorite TV shows, Max Headroom, Network 23’s hidden research-and-development lab was located on the thirteenth floor. And The Thirteenth Floor was also the title of an old sci-fi film about virtual reality, released in 1999, right on the heels of both The Matrix and eXistenZ.

I’m equally shocked that it took two whole pages (on my ereader) to get to the first slew of references, and that one of these references is from 1999. I didn’t know we were allowed to think of anything that isn’t the 80s. Speaking of which, I’ll spare you the whole paragraph, but the book does feel the need to explain why it’s vault 42.

Inside the vault, there’s another egg containing a super-fancy and advanced OASIS headset. The egg also has a video monitor that plays a video message from James Halliday shortly before his death.

But despite his condition, he hadn’t used his OASIS avatar to record this message like he had with Anorak’s Invitation. For some reason, he’d chosen to appear in the flesh this time, under the brutal, unforgiving light of reality.

That oh-so-important message? An infodump about the headset’s working. He called it an OASIS Neural Interface, ONI for short. It basically lets you experience the OASIS through all your senses with sensory input just like the real thing, you know, that thing Wade had to get a fancy suit and massive rig to do in the first book. And yes, Wade does spend a paragraph or two comparing it to other works of science fiction. Of course he does.

More importantly, it also records all the sensory input into a separate file, which can then be replayed over to re-experience said sensations, or live someone else’s experiences. Halliday tries to frame it as a tool to generate communication and empathy, seemingly all without acknowledging the potential creepiness of that. But hey. Who knows. Maybe that’s because this is the setup stage, and it’ll pay off eventually.

I also wondered about the name Halliday had chosen for his invention. I’d seen enough anime to know that oni was also a Japanese word for a giant horned demon from the pits of hell.

Add “reducing Japan to anime” to the list of things the book has failed to improve upon. By the way, the narration insisted on spelling out ONI letter by letter earlier, so it’s weird to make that link now. It’s also just kind of inelegant to just tell us “this is the symbolism behind the name”, but that’s just the sort of thing I’ve come to expect from this book.

Anyway, the reason Halliday kept this for his successor to find is he wants Wade to test out the technology and decide if humanity is ready for it. Why Halliday thinks the most glorified pop culture trivia / video game competition qualifies you for such a decision should be a problem, but sadly, a lot of billionaires have said and done a lot of dumb and eerily similar things in the past few years since I read Ready Player One, so actually, I can’t fault the book for that one. Tragically, our fates really are in the hands of people who should rightfully be cartoon villains.

To his credit, Wade does question Halliday’s motives in keeping this under wraps at all rather than releasing it himself. So hey, maybe it really is setting something up.

Wade goes back to his office with the ONI, and we’re treated with this lovely piece of narration:

I was grateful that Samantha wasn’t there. I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to talk me out of testing the ONI. Because I was worried she might try to, and if she did, she would’ve succeeded. (I’d recently discovered that when you’re madly in love with someone they can persuade you to do pretty much anything.)

There’s a lot to unpack about the implications this has for their relationship, but it’s way too early in the book for me to editorialize when one character hasn’t even been on the page yet. So I’ll just leave it here for the record. Hopefully you see the problem without me needing to point it out anyway. If not, feel free to hit my inbox.

So Wade, confident in the fact that Halliday would have warned him if there were any risks to using the ONI, decides to try it out. Even though he immediately follows up that statement with this:

According to the ONI documentation, forcibly removing the headset while it was in operation could severely damage the wearer’s brain and/or leave them in a permanent coma. So the titanium-reinforced safety bands made certain this couldn’t happen. I found this little detail comforting instead of unsettling. Riding in an automobile was risky, too, if you didn’t wear your seatbelt…

Wade. My dude. What the fuck is this simile. And why don’t you see that maybe a machine where you’re forcibly trapping yourself inside a virtual reality might be dangerous? Hell, when I said this was setting something up, I was expecting something vaguely interesting about the potential breach of privacy, or how you don’t need to literally walk in someone’s shoes to feel empathy for them, or anything substantial, but now I’m worried it’ll just end up as “man, sometimes science fiction machines will scramble your brain, isn’t that weird”?

Like, I don’t know, to me “it will put you in a coma” sounds like a good reason for Halliday not to release the ONI. Maybe we can still make it into a commentary on how corporations will sell stuff they know is directly harmful if it can make them a profit. Who knows.

The book waffles on about more risks, and the mechanics of how the ONI activates, and the warning disclaimer when it does turn on. Specifically, there’s a time limit of twelve consecutive hours, after which you’ll be automatically logged out, because yes, using the thing for too long can also cause brain damage.

Gregarious Simulation Systems will not be held responsible for any injuries caused by improper use of the OASIS Neural Interface.

See, now there’s the sort of thing that could be a source for commentary, but no, instead it’s thrown in there like it’s nothing and Wade glosses over the entire warning, and instead keep wondering why Halliday didn’t just release the ONI if even the safety disclaimers were in place.

By the way: this whole system has apparently gone through several independent human trials already, so I’m finding it hard to imagine that it’s actually a secret Halliday took to the grave as Wade says. Unless he also had everyone involved in those trials killed afterwards. Or maybe they all ended up with brain damage which rendered them incapable of talking about it.

And before you think I’m being unfair and maybe we’re supposed to understand that ourselves even if the protagonist doesn’t, I’ll remind you that the book didn’t trust its reader to know what the number 42 is a reference to, or what an oni is, even though I don’t think anyone in the target audience wouldn’t know about these two things.

There’s also the fact that, since this book came out, a video game did release with a scene intentionally designed to cause seizures, and it had countless fans flocking to defend it over that fact. So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not assuming this book’s stance on whether your video game console causes brain damage and possibly coma is actually a bad thing, or just an acceptable risk.

Wade certainly seems to think so, since he agrees to the terms of service.

As the timestamp faded away, it was replaced by a short message, just three words long—the last thing I would see before I left the real world and entered the virtual one. But they weren’t the three words I was used to seeing. I—like every other ONI user to come—was greeted by a new message Halliday had created, to welcome those visitors who had adopted his new technology: READY PLAYER TWO

Well now that’s just silly.

And that’s our opening cutscene. And while this post is already long enough, I feel like I have to go on to chapter 0, because it feels like barely anything has happened so far. We didn’t even introduce any new character motivation or conflict, or a mystery to set the plot into motion, unless I’m supposed to think “why didn’t Halliday release this?” counts.

So Wade is back into the OASIS, and tells us about how much more real it all feels thanks to the ONI. I especially have to question how he can smell or taste anything—both of which he tells us he can. Like, who coded that? Did Halliday implement every single smell and taste himself, without anyone noticing? I hope you don’t need me to tell you that’s not typically how features are added to a large-scale video game.

If it feels like I’m nitpicking at the logic of the book, even though I always say I’m not very interested in that and would rather talk themes, it’s because I am, because there isn’t much else to discuss so far. Wade is happy about tasting virtual fruit. That’s the scene.

He tests out if he can feel pain, but no, the ONI reduces pain (a gunshot is translated as “a hard pinch”). On one hand, good, it would be a nightmare otherwise. On the other hand, I sort of hope there’s a setting for that in there, because otherwise, you just lost an entire clientele of kinksters.

This was it—the final, inevitable step in the evolution of videogames and virtual reality. The simulation had now become indistinguishable from real life.

Ah, now we have some juicy themes. Because if you think this is the inevitable final step in the evolution of video games, I invite you to look at literally any other art form, and what happened to them once hyperrealism became easy. Hint: they didn’t stop evolving, because it turns out realism isn’t the only goal one can achieve with art.

The realism discussion is not a new one in video games, mind you. In case you’re out of the loop: most of the big-budget blockbuster games (“AAA” as they’re known) are aiming for hyperrealism nowadays, and it results in development teams being forced to work in horrible conditions (known with the equally horrible euphemism of “crunch”). And, because it turns out that 1) humans working themselves to the bones isn’t healthy and 2) racing for realism with little to no vision besides it makes for poor creativity, a lot of these games come out as disappointments. Oh, there are hordes of Gamers™ who will defend them to the bitter end, but inevitably, in the months following release, the defense cools off while the criticism keeps on going, because the defense was a knee-jerk reaction born of a mix of people hyping themselves up for a game they hadn’t seen that much of yet, then attaching a part of their identity to liking that thing.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that this throwaway line feels like it comes from someone who is so out of touch as to accidentally support a world view that has in fact resulted in the biggest part of the industry stagnating artistically while growing more toxic for the people working in it. All the while, more and more independent games come out every year, proving that that realism is nowhere near the most important thing to making a game good, and that you can achieve much better results with a small team.

What I’m trying to say is: watch Jim Sterling’s channel, they’ve been bleeding out subscribers since they came out as nonbinary and make much better commentary on this topic than I could, and play Hades.

Back to the book, which sadly hasn’t become any more interesting since I decided to go on a tangent. Wade tests the ONI functions some more, all the while musing on how he knows Samantha would disapprove but that he doesn’t care, because what loving relationship doesn’t consist of that?

Among the functions, he tries the ONI files, the aforementioned recordings of someone else’s experiences. Specifically, a woman, which Wade tells us by telling us he suddenly has breasts, I suppose because Ernest Cline saw that subreddit about men writing women and went “I want a piece of that”. Oh, and also, those sample files were recorded from real people, in the real world. And yes, this goes exactly where you think it does.

SEX-M-F.oni, SEX-F-F.oni, and SEX-Nonbinary.oni

Look, I actually started writing a complaint about the boobs thing, and I deleted it, but now Cline is doing it on purpose. So, here goes: I saw a quote from this book on Twitter that looked like Cline attempting to make up for Wade’s casual transphobia in the first book. It wasn’t good, but it at least sounded like he was trying. So to immediately get this is…a lot? Let’s go for a lot.

I can almost excuse the use of “M” and “F”. You gotta name your files and you could excuse a non-exhaustive list. But…nonbinary? On one hand, I want to know what Cline means. On the other hand, I don’t think he can come up with an answer I’ll find satisfactory.

We are thankfully spared from finding out because Wade has just lost his virginity to Samantha a few days ago and he’s 1) not ready for this and 2) pretty sure this counts as cheating. You could make a case that this is more like porn, but I can see that this is more of a personal distinction anyway, and I can respect that one. Plus, you know. I don’t want to find out.

Wade logs off, and he can’t tell the difference between the OASIS with the ONI, and decides this will change the world. And then it’s back to the “how did he do it and keep it a secret”, even though Wade now finds out in the documentation that this had been in development for twenty-five years, basically since the OASIS launched. So it’s not really that it’s a secret, so much as there are a lot of people under very strict NDAs out there. Or, again, they’re all dead and/or otherwise incapacitated.

The ONI is the product of the Accessibility Research Lab, and Wade tells us about other stuff that the lab has produced using similar technology, mostly for medical purposes.

GSS patented each of the Accessibility Research Lab’s inventions, but Halliday never made any effort to profit from them. Instead, he set up a program to give these neuroprosthetic implants away, to any OASIS users who could benefit from them. GSS even subsidized the cost of their implant surgery.

Look, it’s nice that you want Halliday to be the good guy through and through, but it’s kind of hard to take any social commentary seriously when you think this is how a billionaire is made. Hell, even when he shut down the lab and fired its entire staff, he gave them a big enough severance package to set them for life. You know. Capitalism!

Hey, remember when Samantha said she was going to end world hunger if she won the contest, a thing billionaires right now could be doing, but aren’t, and she is now the co-owner of GSS? Yeah, I kind of hope the book remembers that too.

Speaking of the co-owners, the book just completely skips over the debate that our four main characters have over whether or not to release the ONI to the world. All we know is that they voted, and the vote goes in favor of releasing it. I mean, why have characters who could have opinions and feelings that could create a discussion? That might make us care about them! And who wants to care about characters in a story?

We put them on sale at the lowest possible price, to make sure as many people as possible could experience the OASIS Neural Interface for themselves.

What exactly is “the lowest possible price” here? Your company literally owns money. Like, OASIS money is real money. There is literally nothing stopping you from giving them away, especially because what you’re giving away is access to the platform you’re already running for a profit.

It’s almost like, even trying to make “good billionaires” out of its protagonists, the book can’t stop and actually make them significantly good.

Oh, I should mention. If you thought my Ready Player One review was angry at capitalism, wait until you see what the past couple years have done to me.

Anyway, once they his 7,777,777 simultaneous ONI users, a new riddle shows up on Halliday’s website. Because yep: our plot is apparently not about the implications of releasing the ONI, or any of the potential ideological discussions associated with that, it’s another riddle. Oh boy, do I wish I’d known that.

Seek the Seven Shards of the Siren’s Soul On the seven worlds where the Siren once played a role For each fragment my heir must pay a toll To once again make the Siren whole

I cannot wait to have the book give me just not enough information to solve the riddle until it’s solved by the book itself. That was so much fun the other…what was it, five times? Six times? Something like that. Wade already tells us the Siren might be Kira Morrow, because her alias was named after one of the sirens of Greek myth, so I can’t wait for that plot point to stick around. It was so fun to hear all about this man pining for another man’s wife the first time!

So this is the “Shard Riddle”. People are apparently convinced it was made by Wade and his crew as a publicity stunt, but of course, they know that that isn’t the case, and they also don’t know what that riddle is supposed to lead to. So, that’s great. We have a puzzle, and we also don’t know what the stakes are. All we know is that Wade wants to solve the puzzle essentially because it’s a challenge.

We skip over a year, and Wade tells us about how IOI collapses and gets absorbed by GSS because of the ONI’s launch. Remember IOI? They were the bad guys, so I guess we have to cheer?

GSS absorbed IOI and all of its assets, transforming us into an unstoppable megacorporation with a global monopoly on the world’s most popular entertainment, education, and communications platform.To celebrate, we released all of IOI’s indentured servants and forgave their outstanding debts.

On one hand: good for the slave. On the other hand: not gonna cheer for a monopoly, you guys.

Another year’s skip, and now 99% of the OASIS users are using the ONI, and yes, that includes trading their experiences with one another too. And I guess we’re still hand-waving any possible problems associated with that technology, because the technology is made so that all recordings must be shared and played through the OASIS.

This allowed us to weed out unsavory or illegal recordings before they could be shared with other users.

How? Do you know any of the problems associated with content moderations on the current platforms? I don’t know if I want to point to Youtube’s extremely faulty algorithm, Twitter’s complete apathy towards its Nazis, or Facebook doing moderation by making underpaid staff watch all potentially problematic content, which resulted in serious psychological damage to said staff.

You can’t just say that as if it solved everything. The chapter later says this is handled by an AI called “CenSoft”, and as an AI engineer myself, let me tell you: this is not going to work. Again: Youtube is the way it is for a reason.

It also let us maintain our monopoly on what was rapidly becoming the most popular form of entertainment in the history of the world.

And again, monopolies are totally a good thing as long as it’s in the right hands!

When I’m implying that the book does not care for any of these potential problems, I mean it. These enormous ethical issues are sidestepped in cold narratin, and we just keep going on introducing new slang that I hate, but have to quote so help you keep up.

“Sims” were recordings made inside the OASIS, and “Recs” were ONI recordings made in reality. Except that most kids no longer referred to it as “reality.” They called it “the Earl.” (A term derived from the initialism IRL.) And “Ito” was slang for “in the OASIS.” So Recs were recorded in the Earl, and Sims were created Ito.

There. You have been infodumped.

In the midst of all this (still extremely dry) exposition about how this changed media, we also get this tidbit:

You could take any drug, eat any kind of food, and have any kind of sex, without worrying about addiction, calories, or consequences.

Now, I was going to rant about this, but then, a page later, this happens and spares me the trouble:

I’d struggled with OASIS addiction before the ONI was released. Now logging on to the simulation was like mainlining some sort of chemically engineered superheroin.

So, you are aware that addiction isn’t just possible, but extremely facilitated by this. But sure, no worries! It’s perfectly safe! Because our protagonists are good.

Also, remember how the last book ended on a weak attempt at having a moral that maybe the real world is good, actually? Yeah, Wade tells us the ONI helps poor people live enjoyable lives in the OASIS. So. Fuck that message, I guess. It only applies if you’re the literal wealthiest man on Earth.

And me? All my dreams had come true. I’d gotten stupidly rich and absurdly famous. I’d fallen in love with my dream girl and she had fallen in love with me. Surely I was happy, right? Not so much, as this account will show.

Aside from the aforementioned returning OASIS affiction, there’s the Shard riddle that Wade is now obsessed with, to the point of offering a billion-dollar reward to anyone with information about the riddle’s answer.

I announced this reward with a stylized short film that I modeled after Anorak’s Invitation. I hoped it would seem like a lighthearted play on Halliday’s contest instead of a desperate cry for help. It seemed to work.

On one hand: good, Wade finally has a character flaw that the book actually acknowledges as a character flaw. I can work with that. On the other hand: this is all told to me in such a dispassionate that I am dreading how the book will handle this character flaw. Which is to say, I’m not expecting it to be very good.

(For a brief time, some of the younger, more idealistic shard hunters referred to themselves as “shunters” to differentiate themselves from their elder counterparts. But when everyone began to call them “sharters” instead, they changed their minds and started to call themselves gunters too. The moniker still fit. The Seven Shards were Easter eggs hidden by Halliday, and we were all hunting for them.)

Especially when this is something the narration feels is more important to tell me about.

Anyway, skip another year, and a gunter finally leads Wade to the First Shard. Solved that riddle, I guess. And wait, wasn’t part of why IOI was ~evil~ in the first book that they were paying people to find the Easter Egg for them? How is this any different, Wade?

And when I picked it up, I set in motion a series of events that would drastically alter the fate of the human race. As one of the only eyewitnesses to these historic events, I feel obligated to give my own written account of what occurred. So that future generations—if there are any—will have all the facts at their disposal when they decide how to judge my actions.

And that is the end of our chapter 0. And can I just say: what a mess already. I don’t think my snark can properly convey how utterly devoid of emotion this book’s writing is, and that alone is honestly more of a turn-off than anything else in the book so far. Even, knowing that I railed about it in the first book, I still feel newly unprepared for it. And it’s not like this double-prologue is making me hopeful that the book will show an ounce more critical thinking—or decent fucking humanity towards marginalized groups—as its predecessor.

So, that’s a lot to look forward to! For the sake of my sanity and schedule, don’t expect me to do such big posts every time. I’ll probably do one chapter a week from now on, if that. We’re in for a long ride, but I hope it’s worth it, at least.

[shinidamachu]

No Place I Would Rather Be

Summary: We're a thousand miles from comfort. We have traveled land and sea. But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be. Word Count: 3.617 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

Boredom was eating him alive.

Days had passed without a single lead about the jewel fragments. So much that their little group had disbanded for the time being. Sango went back to what was left of her old village. It had been a while since she last paid homage to their dead. Kirara, of course, was her loyal company — and also ride. Miroku was visiting Mushin’s Temple, as if the place hadn't been profaned enough, already. Shippo was still around, but keeping his distance due to InuYasha’s stormy mood.

The frustration of it all got him desperately wishing for some kind — any kind — of action. Something that didn’t involve sulking under a tree and watching time crawl. Every second of this idleness meant another second Naraku was out there, still breathing. Collecting the shards was a small mean to achieve a bigger, imperative ending. It gave him purpose, a sense of getting closer to his ultimate goal step by step. Waiting got them nowhere. It only granted him to be alone with his thoughts and the combination was nothing but disastrous.

Lucky for him, his private source of distraction was not too far away.

Kagome was humming a foreign tune, the same one she liked to sing whenever she was happy. Following the melody was almost mandatory. InuYasha didn’t realize what he was doing until he arrived to the other side of it, where the girl thumbed through her hair in a futile attempt to tame her hair, the lake’s surface a natural mirror at her convenience. InuYasha made his presence known before his own reflection joined hers.

“It’s no use, ya know.”

“Jerk!”

The girl glared at him and retaliated by splashing water on his direction — of which he easily dodged. InuYasha had to admit her reaction was justified, given his past tendency to be utterly unkind to her. This time, however, although his tone wasn’t devoided of casual teasing, he was being completely honest. When you spend sunrise to sunset with someone for so long, it was inevitable learning a thing or two about them. Kagome had a wild hair. Not in a bad way, but it sure had its own will. Especially in the humidity, which was definitely the case of that afternoon. To an outside viewer, the strands could pass as straight. Noticing the shy waves at the end and how they used to stand out after getting wet was a privilege for the few allowed to look closer — a privilege InuYasha cherished. She always had her hair down and he liked that she did. It was destined to be free, to go with the wind. And it had grown a hell of a lot since they first met. The half demon wondered if Kagome was aware of how much. He certainly was.

Then she got up, revealing clothes that were undoubtedly new to his eyes. It was one piece, all lime flowers and malleable fabric against her cream skin. A bit longer than what she usually cared to wear, but leaving her arms and shoulders at plain sight in compensation. The view was thrilling, until his eyes caught the yellow backpack laying by her feet, causing his grin to falter. He understood the implication behind it, even if the question had yet to pass his lips.

“What’s with the weird kimono?”

“Oh, this.” Kagome lowered her gaze, inspecting for herself. Her combative attitude swiftly turning into a cautious posture. “It’s a sundress. I’ve been meaning to ask… can you please give me a ride to the well? I’m going home.”

There it was.

Somehow, getting his suspicions confirmed did nothing to prevent the scowl from forming on his face.

“Thought the school thing were over for the summer.”

“Well, yes...”

“Then why the fuck ya going home for? We still have plenty of supplies!”

“Because I promised I’d go to the movies with Hojo and now that we’re on vacation I don’t have excuses not to go, anymore. My grandpa literally ran out of diseases I could have. And what’s the point, anyway? Jewel hunting is going through a dry spell, everyone left… and I haven’t seen my family in weeks.”

Half of what she said didn’t make any sense to him and InuYasha positively hated the half that did.

“What if something comes up? I can’t see the damn shards like you do.” He argued.

“You jump through the well and get me.” She shrugged, as if the idea was highly unlikely. InuYasha opened his mouth to list the many, many reasons her solution was flawed. She bit him to the punch. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. I’ll be back tomorrow. I bet Miroku and Sango won’t even be here yet.”

It wasn’t fair.

In general, storming off to her era was Kagome’s way of punishing him for being a massive asshole. He got that. To tell the truth, more often than not he deserved it. But InuYasha was in his best behavior — despite feeling rightfully entitled to throw a tantrum, given the circumstances — precisely because he needed her close. He needed her to stay. Picturing Kagome hanging out with someone else instead was the worst kind of self torture. Would she change her mind if he swallowed his pride long enough to say so? Would he ever get the guts to let it out? She hadn’t invited him to come along. Was this Hojo guy really that important to her? More than InuYasha was? Trying to talk her out of it was a dangerous move. He’d put his foot in his mouth, she’d put his face on the ground. That’s what they did.

Either his expression betrayed the turmoil inside or Kagome became too good at figuring him out. Whatever it was, her smile shined, reassuring and warm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be so quick, you won’t have time to miss me.”

“Who says I’d miss ya?” He dismissed, his indifference unconvincing even to himself.

InuYasha perceived another presence approaching. Shippo. His arrival couldn’t be more providential. Kagome had a soft spot for the brat. If anyone could get her to stay, it was him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just the runt.”

Like he had been announced, the kid emerged from the trees in a hurry, Kagome’s bow and quiver looking gigantic on his tiny hands.

“Kagome! InuYasha!”

“Shippo-chan! What’s going on?” She asked, as soon as the boy reached them.

“There are rumors of a jewel fragment, two villages to the west.” He explained, with the pomposity the information called for. “Kaede sent me.” His chin was up high, like the statement added a final hint of importance to the message. “Here,” continued the kit, offering Kagome her weapon in a formal manner.

She hesitated.

“Kagome, let’s go!” InuYasha was prepared to move at the sound of the word ‘jewel’, their earlier argument happily buried and forgotten.

“Wait! Don’t you think it’s strange? For days we had no leads, and now, just when we splitted up…”

“Yeah, well, so what if it’s a trap? It wouldn’t be the first.”

Coward that he was, Naraku resorted to the nastiests schemes in order to get what he wanted. His disgusting fingers laid on every happenstance that had ever caused them harm. What choice did InuYasha have, though? Ruse or not ruse, he had to check it. Regardless of anyone else’s help, it was his duty to get vengeance on the bastard — for Kikyo, for himself — and Kagome knew that.

She sighed and took the bow and arrows from the fox’s hold.

“Thank you so much, Shippo-chan! Now can you do me another favor?”

“Anything!”

“Go back to Kaede. Tell her InuYasha and I are on our way.”

“I’m not coming with you?” He whined, as confused as InuYasha. They never traveled without the child.

“That’s right. We don’t know how dangerous this may be. I need you to stay and if we don’t come back tomorrow by noon, get Miroku and Sango and send them to us. Can you do that for me?”

Shippo resolutely nodded .

“I won’t let you down, Kagome.”

“I know you won’t.”

And through the same path he had appeared he went. Kagome fixed a pleading glance at InuYasha.

“Can I at least change clothes before we g—”

“No time to waste.” He said, grabbing Kagome and her bag to leap towards west.

Kagome was whistling that same song again.

It took him an enormous amount of self restraint not to whistle along.

He was happy. So wonderfully happy. It was astonishing, the effect that tiny, bossy human girl had over his humor. The fact they were following the possible whereabouts of a lost jewel piece also played a role on his attitude swing, there was no denying that. But even if this turns out to be nothing at all, it would be a small price to pay in exchange of spending more time with her.

“Weren’t you mad about not coming home just now?”

His curiosity was genuine. Kagome had been angry since they left and InuYasha would be the person to know. She had two kind of anger. The one he could hear and the one he could feel. Even though she had been unusually silent, her frustration was palpable at first. Mercifully, it seemed to fade away the more ground they covered. Her one complaint was the soreness that too many hours on the same position inflicted upon the muscles, which was why they were both walking. As a rule, he was strictly opposite to anything that might slow them down, and the human pace was unbearable once you had a taste of demonic speed. Running free, with trees and people alike turning into a blur on each side of him, was an unparalleled sensation, amplified tenfold whenever Kagome was riding his back. He didn’t regret giving in, though. They weren’t far from their destination, after all. In addition, her comfort came to be a priority, despite him still being unaware as to when or how.

“Well… yeah, but… what can I do, right? Besides, I haven’t realized how much I missed this.”

Clueless, InuYasha searched their surroundings, unsuccessfully intending to spot what she could possibly be referring to.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“This!” She spinned around, open arms and face to the sky, chasing daylight like a sunflower, the movement bringing her garment to life. “You. Me. An adventure. Don’t get me wrong, I love Shippo and the others, I’m glad they joined us. It just feels like we haven’t had as much quality time together as we used to, after they did.”

“Y-you miss that?”

She shook her head up and down with enthusiasm and a content smile fought its way across his lips.

“I know we could hang out in Kaede’s village, but it’s not the same as going out. O-on a trip, I mean.”

Although InuYasha couldn’t make out why her cheeks were suddenly burning red, he did see the logic her reasoning, and the feeling was mutual. There was a certain level of closeness only the road could provide. No curious eyes. No sly comments. No need to explain themselves. InuYasha had missed that as well.

He often played with the thought of stealing her away, of placate his selfish thirst for her undivided attention. Not once had he imagined Kagome would be as eager to go as he was to take her. Regardless, the timing wasn’t right. It never was. From the moment they met, they were tossed into a mission and there was hardly space for anything else. So he settled for whatever he could get until it was over.

“Why would you miss those trips? It ain’t like I was nice to ya back then.”

It didn’t make sense to him that she would. His memories were of a spoiled little girl, complaining about the bugs and her aching legs and the fact she hadn’t bathed in days. There was no escaping InuYasha’s share of responsibility on the issue. He could have made her life easier, had he bothered to. But at the beginning he saw Kagome as a potential threat he would eventually get rid off. How could he have guessed, after the many betrayals he had endured through the years, that his heart would be safe on her hands?

Kagome limited herself to a shrug.

“You are now.” She stated, as if it made up for his unexcusable former behavior. Her unconditional forgiveness amazed him, no matter how regularly she had shown it to him. “Also, it feels like old times.”

“It doesn’t unless you get kidnapped, somehow.”

“It happened once or twice!”

“Keh! Stop kidding yourself.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No, shut up. I’m sensing a shard and it’s moving away.”

Wordlessly, InuYasha returned the backpack to her and offered her his back.

They raced at full gallop, Kagome guiding their course. The forest transitioned into arid highland, where dirt, thorns and rocky surfaces took place.

“Hey, you!” Kagome yelled at the youkai emerging in their camp of vision. Their target. Over his shoulder, the startled creature sneaked a peek at them and increased speed. Growling, InuYasha matched his rhythm. “Wait up! We won’t hurt you.”

“I’m pretty sure Imma hurt him.”

“Give the jewel fragment to us peacefully and you’ll be free to go!” She went on, his snide remarks as ignored by her as her plead was by the demon. InuYasha’s patience was wearing thin. Now that the rumors turned out to be true, his focus was entirely aimed at the task at hand.

“Are those fancy arrows of yours just for show?”

Kagome let out a deep breath. Shooting was her last ressource. She preferred to sort things out with words first. It rarely worked. Still she always tried.

“I suppose we have no choice.”

The arrow hit the creature in the calf and his groan of pain reverberated through the field. Not lethal, but enough of a nuisance to make him drop the run. InuYasha closed the distance between them within seconds. Kagome climbed off him and together they inspected their opponent.

On the floor, a possum demon hissed and exhibited his fangs at them, his ugly face twisting in agony while he pulled the arrow out. A cascate of blood immediately flowed from the wound. InuYasha was not fooled by it. Being a full youkai, he would be healed soon.

“Where is it?” InuYasha asked Kagome, not daring to leave the bastard out of his sight.

“His belly.”

“Step away, you filthy half breed!”

“Excuse me?” Kagome defied, any trace of courtesy forgotten.

“That was quite the damage she did on ya, there.” InuYasha released Tessaiga from its sheath as he approached the fallen man. “Think I can top it, though.”

“Step away, I said!”

His fear was palpable. InuYasha could feel it. See it. Smell it.

Smell it.

Faster than realization, the odor filled his lungs. It burned his nostrils, his throat. He could taste the toxic substance on his tongue. It was unbearable. And gasping for air only resulted in the pungent scent flooding him further, overwhelming his senses. A defense mechanism, he thought, his vision blurring, his knees giving in. I’m going to faint. No. No, no, no, no, no. Kagome. He had to protect Kagome.

There was a cry of his name.

And then an awful lot of darkness.

InuYasha came to abruptly, uncertain and alarmed by the new reality.

In one minute, the sun was up and he was succumbing, his consciousness leaving him to drift. In the next, he was awake and crickets sang the night’s arrival.

It was tempting to think he had dreamt the whole thing. A stupid, ridiculous, crazy ass dream. However, the lingering smell left no room for argument. It happened. The scent was weaker. Fading. But was there, overpowered by a significantly nicer aroma. A familiar one, sweet on the nose and soothing to the soul. Kagome’s.

He was lying half naked in her sleeping bag.

Sitting up, InuYasha seeked for the priestess, desperate to make sure for himself she was safe and sound.

The fragile light of her modern lantern illuminated the cavern that sheltered them. At its entrance, a girl rested — her silhouette contoured by a starry sky. 

“Kagome.”

“You’re awake!”

She rushed to him, tripping over her own eagerness. Her beautiful clothes were dirty and a bit ripped at the hem. A small scratch cut her cheek, remnants of dry blood tainting her skin.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine!” Kagome kneeled in front of him, a gesture he appreciated. There was no peace for him without an up close inspection of her well being. “I purified the demon after you blacked out. Turns out it was a trap. Thousands of Naraku’s second-class demons came for the shard when I took him down. I tried to purify those too, but more of them kept coming and I ran out of arrows, so I casted a barrier and—”

“You casted a barrier?”

InuYasha was beyond impressed. Barriers required great power and discipline. Even from Kaede or the monk. Kagome had apparently done it all by herself. Effortlessly. On the spot.

“To be honest, I don’t know how I did it. I just… I saw you lying there and I… anyway, the barrier purified the ones who touched it. Eventually they all died or left. How are you feeling?”

InuYasha didn’t answer the question.

“I’m sorry, Kagome, that you couldn’t rely on me.”

Guilt pulsed within him like a heartbeat. Constant and compulsory, expanding the outcomes of its work through every inch of his body.

“It’s not your fault. Your nose is too keen, of course you’d be affected the most.”

“But you got hurt!”

“In the thorns. I was careless. Don’t worry about it, it’s not even going to leave a scar.”

“It shouldn’t have even happened. I’m supposed be the one protecting you, not the other way around.”

It could have been worse. InuYasha should be grateful for that. He wasn’t. It could have been worse. And he wouldn’t be able to help her, to save her from this insignificant peril while she had already saved him in every conceivable way there was for a person to be saved.

“I’m not as helpless as I used to be, you know? I’ve grown a lot.” She had a point. InuYasha himself had told her that much, once. Kagome had faced scarier dangers than that. And she could absolutely take them. But he didn’t want her to have to. “Not to mention, it was totally worth it.”

As a proof, she exhibited a jewel fragment, glowing in the healthiest shade of pink.

“You got it!” InuYasha captured the shard, glancing at every angle of it in awe.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

Kagome went for her backpack and came back, falling on her knees again. Her hand dove in and emerged holding the glass container in which they kept the other pieces. She opened it and tilted the receiver to InuYasha, hinting for him to do the honors.

It was as if she had been waiting for him so they could do it together.

As if it was their private, sacred ritual.

He did as she wanted, mirroring her satisfied smile.

“Where’s my haori?”

“Oh! I… I put it away.” Blushing, Kagome tore her gaze from his and InuYasha followed it to a corner of the cave, where a huddle of scarlet fabric laid forgotten. “I figured you’d heal faster with that smell gone and your haori is soaked on it. Sorry.”

“D-don’t apologize, stupid. It was the right call.” To feel useful — and to occupy his brain with something other than the image of Kagome undressing him — InuYasha searched her backpack for the first aid kit, a tool from her era he was sadly too intimate with. “Now let’s take care of this cut.”

“Okay. You have to g—”

“I know what to do. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times.” Her lips parted, and InuYasha added: “Don’t act so surprised.”

He cleaned the wound with cotton, water and soap, then used a different ball of cotton to carefully apply the content of a smelly little bottle to the extension of it. Kagome hissed, but he ignored it in favor of wrapping it all up with a band-aid. To ensure it was properly stretched, he gently ran his thumb through it, allowing the touch to linger more than necessary and his stare to go from her cheek to her eyes.

Her eyes.

The most stunning maze.

Let yourself get in, you are sure to get lost.

She blinked before he could, keeping them closed and leaning into his palm, her hand lifting to cover and caress his.

It would be so easy to grip her chin. To turn her face to him. To bring her to his lips. 

So easy to steal a kiss.

Why do the easiest actions have to carry the most difficult consequences?

Clearing his throat, InuYasha transformed present into a loving memory.

“Take some rest. We leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.”

On the way to claim Kagome’s prior guarding position by the entrance of the cave, InuYasha collected Tessaiga while she busied herself with getting cozy inside the sleeping bag.

“Kagome?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“InuYasha, I think we’re way past saying thank you for saving each other’s lives.”

“No, not for that. I mean, for that too, but... for coming. For staying by my side.”

“Stupid.” She mocked him, her voice lethargic as exhaustion finally caught up to her. “Where else would I be?”

A/N: this was some serious self indulgent bullshit. I regret nothing.

@inukag-week​ here is another piece of contribution. Kind of merged the Loyalty and the Instinct prompts here. Oops.

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (6)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 6.7k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

⍟ A/N: It’s been a while since I updated TMCE skskks sorry;;; i missed my drawing tablet so much, I just drew this whole time lmaooo but here you go~ something like a transition chapter!! hope you enjoy? :DD

⍟ Taglist: To those who commented on the previous chapter ;;w;; thank you so much!!! @minkwans, @ialamityo-o, @oprandomfeels, @haotheheckk, and @svt13roses!!! I always say this, but your comments and reactions really keep me going on;;;

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 |

HALF A MILLION MURMURS by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, November 2nd

 To those divinely ordained by the people and the coin with Power and Authority:

            Surely, in some way or another, it had not escaped any person of good conscience and fair moral character the plight which has befallen our fellow men—the Cilvekans—despite differences in and not limited to nationality and/or race; more so and I surely hope so, that it had not escaped the attentions of persons with great abundance in wealth and power such as yourselves.

            Surely, in some way or another, you are not deaf to their pleas—gagged and maimed by a bill, now law, which was carefully crafted to entrap more than half a million people for whatever reason the Parliament has in its defense. These people who had a hand in making our trades grow, making our lives a little bit easier, making this nation prosper to its opulent glory of today—how easy, how convenient it is to leave them to the dust, to fend off on their own all the evils of Porta Persa. Certainly, it had touched your benevolent hearts that the very same people who sweep your marble floors, who wash your dirty ball gowns, who polish your diamond rings, are in need of your help—the very same people who had helped you in your daily lives. Yet even if they had not become a part of your lives in some way or another, surely, maybe, that the fact that Cilvekans are fellow human beings who move and act just like us would convince you that what had been brought unto them was a violation of their rights as human beings, rights which are rightfully bestowed to everyone on this Earth—Cilvekan, Porta Persan or whatnot.

Surely, in some way or another, you have come to an understanding that the creators of this bill had intentions way beyond the national security of this nation. Surely, it is indisputable, with all the abuse of power and discriminate arrests which happened in the course of a few days, that there is no way Porta Persa would attain national security in this manner; but rather, had only caused chaos and anger among the population. How can one, who had held himself with high regard in the face of god and the heavens, be so blissfully ignorant to these people who had been abused and indiscriminately arrested in the middle of the night for various reasons the Royal Guard had come up with as they spin their wee little roulette of crimes and violations? How can we, as human beings, rationalize our inaction and ignorance of this issue with a mentality that “if this does not happen to us in front of our very eyes, therefore, it does not exist”? Of course there is no reason for it to happen on your graciously manicured courtyard because the gold coin had given you the privilege to grab the laws of this land by the neck and turn it to your favor.

Surely, surely, and I do hope so that beyond the loud voices in your head screaming at you that there is no need to help, that the problem is simply perceived by the victims, that this issue does not affect you in any way possible—I hope that you are able to hear the half million murmurs of Cilvekan voices stranded in our ports and stations, banished from their jobs and separated from their families. I hope that you are all able to hear whispers calling out to the warm compassion that is hopefully still inside of your hearts.

As more than half a million Cilvekans congest our ports and stations—sent back to an ironically unfamiliar country with almost no possessions;  inside our jails and police stations, tortured to admit a sin they had never committed—let us not ignore their cries of help. Whether or not they had aided us in our lives before, they are still human beings just like us, who need the same rights as we do. Let’s listen to the murmurs of half a million…

◇

“Your girlfriend sure is livid.”

Yoon Jeonghan, in his platinum blond hair and rather sleepy eyes, said as he tossed the newspaper on the marble garden table. The Minister for the Culture and the Arts was finally present in the meeting, though still in Joshua Hong’s grey pavilion in the middle of his rose garden and still drinking freshly brewed coffee.

“She’s not my girlfriend, and I am very much assured that she is unaware of our soulmate bond,” Jihoon groaned as he massaged his temples, the hangover gradually diminishing with the help of a hangover potion you had forced him to bring along. “How many times do I have to reiterate this?”

“Someone sure is a rainy cloud today, what do you reckon, Minister of Foreign Affairs?” Jeonghan remarked as he received a cup of coffee from Joshua, who had only laughed at his friend’s comment.

“It’s your fault for not coming by lately. You missed out a lot.”

“Did I?” The other smirked, and then looked around, “Oh? It seems our adorable general isn’t here yet?”

“Seungcheol told me he wouldn’t be joining us today,” Joshua informed him primly as he finally sat on his own seat with a cup on his hands. “And for reasons you all already know, unfortunately.”

“What about you though? Aren’t you having a terribly marvelous time trying to deport all these people?” Jihoon asked, his eyes cold and a tad bit exhausted.

“That’s the immigration’s responsibility, not ours. Though drafting an explanation to the Cilvekan government as to why there are half a million people to be deported back to their country isn’t a walk in the park either.”

Jihoon grunted, to which Jeonghan only smiled.

“I’m having trouble with this as well. Several valuable artists living in Porta Persa are in danger of being deported which isn’t in any way favorable in my position. I wouldn’t want to lose Wen Junhui and Xu Minghao in the middle of their own respective careers,” Jeonghan added in a playful tone despite the severity of his situation.

“And just when I was finally able to acquire some tickets to Wen Junhui’s play!” Joshua remarked with a slight scowl, annoyed that his tickets would probably become mere pieces of worthless colored paper.

“Tough luck for all of us, huh?” Jihoon remarked as he pressed down the bridge of his nose, the smell of the decaying rose petals around him was making him nauseous.

As the wind blew across the wide rose garden, a companionable silence enveloped the three of them. While they seemed to be so lighthearted, they all knew the situation was a lot worse than they had feared.

“Is there any way we could reverse this decision?” Jeonghan finally asked.

“If there was, I would’ve done it already. Not to mention how much political power I’ve lost because of this,” Jihoon replied, thumbing on the cork of the potion he was holding. "If not for the laws of this land, I would've wrung Kang's neck by now."

“Seems like your plans on running for Prime Minister is thrown out of the window,” Jeonghan continued to which Jihoon only gave him a cynical look.

“I would continue if I was crazy enough,” he answered with a snort. “Look, there’s really not much I could do as of the moment. The Conservatives are probably holding the biggest victory party of their lives at the seaports, herding off Cilvekans inside cargo ships like cattle, and it’s so frustrating how I could only watch them do what they want.”

“What about going to your grandfather then?” Joshua suggested and Jihoon stilled for a moment before aggressively shaking his head.

“No, no, no. Absolutely not,” he replied with a hint of panic in his eyes. “Not in a million years.”

“Why not?” Jeonghan asked. “He’s still a powerful man after retiring as Prime Minister years ago. Who knows, maybe he has some useful connections.”

“You guys already know why not,” Jihoon responded with a snarl. “There is certainly no way I would return to Santaragossa considering the state of my soulmate bond.”

“Ah, that,” the two men eventually nodded in understanding as they remembered why Jihoon was hesitant to go.

“But maybe this is the right time to tell Y/N that your soulmates,” Joshua was the first one who remarked. “You could bring her along and tell her the truth.”

To that comment, Jihoon only gave an incredulous look. “Please don’t give me any more of these suicidal suggestions, Joshua. You already know that’s not going to work.”

“But you could at least try?” Jeonghan offered. “I mean, Porta Persa is only an inch short of imploding, and we could be headless in a month's time if this escalates rapidly, so what does a lover's quarrel mean in the face of a civil war?”

As soon as he had heard Jeonghan’s words, the dark haired male simply sighed and leaned against the chair he was sitting on. He just can’t believe he was considering this. Returning to Santaragossa could be another mess he wished he had never signed up for, much like the current situation with the Cilvekans. But he knew that if he really wanted to act on the benefit of the greater good, a worthy sacrifice is already a given. What even is a falling out with his soulmate to a half a million people who are more or less starving and afraid?

Jihoon sighed again. Things are spiraling out of control.

“I’ll think about it.”

◇

A few weeks later. November 25th

“Oh god, I almost strangled the bastard if you guys weren’t there!”

It was already late in the morning when the three of you entered Wonwoo’s dorm room in a weirdly tense mood; a mood that was emphasized by the fact that the political atmosphere in Porta Persa was rigidly discordant all throughout the past few weeks. As active journalists, it had of course affected you three.

“I might have bitten his head off twice too,” you were fuming as much as Soonyoung was, tossing your heavy leather bag on the bed which you sat on as well with an exhausted huff.

The only calming force in the room was Jeon Wonwoo, who simply sighed and dropped most of his things on a wooden desk carpeted with heavy tomes of Magical Law. Yet despite is fair countenance, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t exasperated by everything that was happening.

Today, the three of you were scheduled to interview a staunch advocate of the recently passed travel restrictions and border control measures, and to say the least, it did go well, yet at the expense of everyone’s tempers.

“Just—how can someone be so ignorant of this situation?!” you exclaimed as you let yourself fall on the bed, your arms held high in the air. “I-I mean, the ports where Cilvekans had been crowding for days now is just a five-minute walk from his stupidly large mansion! Can’t they see anything?!”

“Not only that! Not only that, goddamn it!” Soonyoung added, furiously pacing around the room. “He even has the gall to question why Y/N was there! Y/N! One of Porta Persa’s best editors! What kind of question is that? Are girls not allowed to do anything anymore? I just wanted to punch that guy’s beer belly!”

“That was really insulting,” you remarked, your voice much quieter now.

Soonyoung groaned-screamed, pushing Wonwoo’s wooden chair before stalking towards the wall and punching it hard. The wall was of course rock solid but Soonyoung’s knuckles were now red and in pain, yet it didn’t really matter. If he hasn’t done anything, chances are he might explode in his place then and there.

Wonwoo only watched, leaning against his desk, as the two of you blew off steam by ranting and just being generally loud, yet in his mind, wheels were turning.

“You know what else is concerning?” Wonwoo spoke, his voice as soft as a mutter yet it was enough to get the attention of everyone. “It’s not only the wealthy who are fine with this as what we might’ve expected, but also some of the upper and lower middle class people.”

You and Soonyoung immediately exchange glances, their eyes glinting with curiosity. So Wonwoo continued on.

“I’ve checked all the interviews we conducted since last week and though they differ in motives, they generally have no problem with this law. The rich are basically ignorant and indifferent. To them, this law is just like all the other laws of Porta Persa. For the middle class citizens however, they saw Cilvekans as an adversary—someone who would steal their jobs and opportunities.”

“Like, ‘why are these people getting rich while I, a true blooded Porta Persan is struggling to get a job?’” you asked, to which Wonwoo nodded.

“So a ‘good riddance’ thing, huh?” Soonyoung bobbed his head up and down in realization, his anger already half abated.

“Precisely. This is why this whole situation is largely divisive. There are people who care about it, but there are also a lot of people who are more than happy that this happened,” the bespectacled boy replied, adjusting his glasses.

“Ain’t that depressing,” Soonyoung grumbled, finally plopping on the plush armchair by the fireplace. “Has anybody started a petition yet?”

“Lee Jihoon already beat you to the chase,” you commented casually. “He’s been busy gathering signatures from prominent people to junk the law, but so far I think he hasn’t really filled his quota yet, right Wonwoo?”

“Yes, I reckon he needs even more powerful people, like someone closely connected to the monarchy or someone with a really huge reputation,” Wonwoo replied, folding his arms over his chest.

“Who else is even more powerful than Lee Jihoon? Even he can’t stop that bill from becoming law,” Soonyoung inserted, now much more cynical because of all the frustration that had built up.

You only shrugged. “We don’t know. At any case, we must continue this responsibility we imposed upon ourselves. Let justice be done though the heavens fall.”

“Indeed,” Wonwoo replied before straightening himself up. “In that case, I suppose it’s time we inspect those documents we found a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about them!” Soonyoung remarked, turning as he watched Wonwoo walk pass him and to a hidden safe behind the bookcase where he kept it secure. “We were so preoccupied with all the interviews that we didn’t have time to look at them.”

“I do hope we get something out of those,” you said, standing up from your place on the bed and walked to the round wooden table where Wonwoo had placed the documents.

Gathering round and seated comfortably, the three of you began to carefully examine the documents like an efficient production line.

Wonwoo was assigned to the actual semantics of the documents, inspecting everything word per word and whether or not they mean something else other than what was thought at first glance. Soonyoung on the other hand was in charge of looking into those which contained shipping and trading information—he may not be the brightest of you three but he has trading experience all throughout his life which was more than what you and Wonwoo could do. Finally, you had the task of doing the final inspection, to see if the Soonyoung and Wonwoo had missed anything.

Yet despite all these efforts, even after five hours of perusing the said documents, in the end they all turned out to be rather boring pieces of yellowed paper.

“And here I thought we were going to find something phenomenal…”

Soonyoung was pouting, now more than exhausted as he slumped sulkily on his chair. You and Wonwoo were no different, as you sat silently on your places around the table with long faces.

“I guess we effectively wasted most of our afternoon,” you remarked, standing up to stretch your stiff muscles.

“I couldn’t agree enough,” Wonwoo snorted, “That novelty shop was phony from the beginning.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Soonyoung exclaimed, also standing up to walk around the room. “And oh, speaking of that shop, the fortune teller asked us to give something to you, Y/N. Wait here for a moment while I run to my room!”

Without waiting for you to reply, Soonyoung already dashed out of the door and to the hallway, leaving both you and Wonwoo to exchange curious glances.

“You know something about that?” You asked him.

Your friend shrugged, “You left so suddenly that day and then everything was so hectic right after that we forgot to tell you about it.”

Understanding the situation, you simply sighed and waited for Soonyoung to return, which wasn’t that long since he was already back before you could even form any thoughts on what Madam Adora had left for you.

“I’m back!” he exclaimed, on his hands a small black box that seemed to resemble a box for a ring. “Here you go, Y/N!”

With that said, Soonyoung placed it on top of the table which you walked towards to see what it was inside. You turned it over and heard a small dull thud, giving the impression that there was a small object inside.

“Did you peek?” You asked him, seating back on your chair and taking a closer inspection at the object.

“What? Of course not!” He denied, which you deemed was true, considering that the seal on the opening was still intact. You smirked at him, revealing the fact that you were only kidding around.

“Well, let’s see what this is.”

Breaking the seal, you opened the box while the two onlookers peered curiously behind you. The climactic tension in the air rose dramatically as the three of you became increasingly intrigued by the contents of the box.

“It’s…” Soonyoung narrated, his eyes glistening at first but then faltered after realizing what it was, “It’s just a coin.”

Inside the box, nestled on maroon red velvet was a mere gold coin—one which Porta Persa uses as currency—the Dossimer.

You held it up between your fingers, studying it as closely as you could with eyes filled with bewilderment. Eventually, you made a nod.

“Yes, it’s just dossimer.”

Wonwoo sighed. “This day seems to be filled with anticlimaxes.”

“I guess that’s life for you,” you replied, shrugging. “Though I’m not that sure why she would give this to me. It’s not like I lack money or anything.”

“I’m as bewildered as you,” Wonwoo remarked, again adjusting his slipping glasses.

Huffing, you placed the coin on the table harshly, cluttering loudly across Wonwoo’s room. “Fate sure is playing tricks with us, and I’m not liking it.”

“Yet what else can we do?” Soonyoung asked. “We’re at a stalemate now. The investigation is going nowhere, the Cilvekan situation is worsening, and we might be persecuted by the monarchy at any time.”

Wonwoo simply sighed. “Indeed, nothing seems to be moving right now, but we still have to do something, no matter how little they are. It will have a rippling effect all over Porta Persa.”

While the two were bickering, you had unintentionally blocked them out, focusing only on the gold coin on the table, atop the documents you had inspected, wondering over and over again why it was on your hands.

“Are you suggesting we run away then? Run to the mountains of god knows where—“

Wonwoo had raised his voice already, further proof that the argument was getting heated, yet despite that, you paid no heed. Instead, you continued to stare at the coin, still tossing and turning ideas in your head.

The more you gazed at it, the more you felt like you were beginning to imagine things. The coin was glowing with a golden light around it, and while magic isn’t something odd, the fact that the coin was shimmering was definitely out of the ordinary.

Blinking several times, you tried to shook the hallucinations away yet the glowing continued and had now spread over the papers underneath it. You were sure you hadn’t drunk anything weird that day, or maybe it was the fatigue—but fatigue doesn’t really make things glow in front of your very eyes.

Funnily enough, it took you a moment to realize that none of what you had thought of was the truth, and strangely enough, the coin was actually and most definitely glowing.

“Um…guys…” you muttered, pulling on their sleeves as they were already about to pounce on each other. “I’m not imagining that the coin is glowing, right?”

Your words immediately stopped the two of them from their tracks and immediately turn their attentions to the coin on the table. Astonished as you were, they only gazed at it in confusion.

“It’s really…glowing,” Soonyoung remarked, his hands about to touch it.

“Wait—! Don’t go near, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo warned as he fetched a fountain pen on his desk to poke the coin with.

“Isn’t that as dangerous as well?” you asked him, wanting him to reconsider his course of action.

“It’s fine, I’m not directly touching it.”

With a sigh of forfeit, you only watched as Wonwoo moved the coin with nothing much of a reaction other than the bright white glowing.

“It seems to be making the papers glow as well,” he observed, moving his body around it to see all sides.

“Not all the papers. Just that one,” you corrected him since you were seated next to it on the table and had a better viewpoint. “Could you guys get that?”

Without anyone prompting him, Soonyoung snatched the paper from the table and looked at it with a rather confused look on his face.

“What is it?” you asked, turning to him with an expectant look.

“Not to add on our several disappointments today but these are just some shipping routes. I checked this earlier, you checked it again after, and we found nothing. And oh, it stopped glowing.”

“Wait! Why don’t we place the coin over it and see if it glows again?” Wonwoo this time suggested, pocketing his fountain pen, and then continued speaking after seeing the look of hesitance on your expressions. “And the coin is clearly safe, other than the fact that it’s, you know…glowing.”

“You pick it up then,” you instructed as Sonyoung returned the map of the shipping routes on table and laid it there flat.

“Fine,” he conceded sulkily and took the coin from where it sat and placed it over the parchment.

Amazingly, the paper did start glowing again, making the map invisible and then forming scribbles of white glow on the paper. The three of you crowded in front of it, trying to assess what you had discovered.

Soonyoung sighed. “I still don’t know what it is.”

“I’m as clueless too,” you added before stepping away.

“That’s a geass.”

The both of you turned to Wonwoo who was still scrutinizing it with meticulousness.

“I hope you’d care to explain?” you asked, walking to the place beside him.

Wonwoo closed his eyes and adjusted his glasses.

“It’s actually pretty rare. But basically, a geass is an agreement. However, it’s a thousand times more powerful than your ordinary paper and ink contract. It binds parties through magic which makes it unbreakable. If anyone attempts to do so, they will be met by a horrific death.”

“That’s nasty,” Soonyoung remarked with a scrunch on the nose.

“Indeed it is. Which is why nobody really attempts to seal agreements using geasses anymore because it binds for life. You only reserve it for incredibly important things. You could consider the soulmate bond as a form of geass made between two people.”

“Two unconsenting people, you mean?” You added, making a terse glanced at Wonwoo.

“Yes, right. So in this case,” Wonwoo continued, picking up the paper but making sure the coin is still in contact with it. “What we have here is a geass made between the Gestalts and…one Gustav Lemaire.”

“Hey, isn’t that the same judge?” Soonyoung called out, his brows knitting with intrigue. “You know, the one who dismissed the tax evasion case of Luce Trading? His name really fits the corrupt judge image so it stuck with me.”

“That’s novel,” you remarked with playful snide. “But anyway, if it’s between the Gestalts and the judge, then is this some kind of settlement?”

“It kind of is,” Wonwoo replied, as he read the script with narrowed eyes. “It says here…”

“It says what?” you asked, impatient.

“Give me a moment. It’s written in archaic script and I haven’t really mastered it yet,” Wonwoo said, still hunched over the document. “So, it says here that in exchange for the dismissal of the case as well as increased support for Luce Trading, the Gestalts agreed to…to illegally smuggle in Cilvekans into Porta Persa…”

Wonwoo turned his gaze back at you and Soonyoung as if he had realized something. His eyes were blank and his lips ajar as he uttered the same last words he had said like a whispered chant—clearly, it was a huge epiphany.

“I think we might’ve ran into something much bigger than we had expected.”

◇

Dusk was already settling on the horizon when you were able to return to your gaudy dorm room; painting the marble white walls in a gradient of pink skies and sunset orange. You hesitated before turning the doorknob which usually led to the common room—wondering if Lee Jihoon went back earlier than usual, and what you were going to do about it considering what had happened a few weeks ago.

There was really nothing left to say.

You shook those thoughts away and just braced yourself for the unforeseen. It made no sense to overthink situations which happened weeks ago. Lee Jihoon’s presence in the dorm was pretty much lacking ever since the whole Cilvekan issue had blown up. He might’ve forgotten it already and it made you look ridiculous being so hung up over it.

Unsurprisingly, the common room was empty and you only sighed at your dramatics. You thought something had changed between you and Jihoon that night, but it seemed like it was only your imagination. The dorm was as empty as when you had first arrived a few months ago.

With an innocuous shrug, you stepped away from the doorway and went for the dinner table. The suppressant you had drank from last night was wearing off and you needed another dose before that invasive voice in your head starts speaking again. You were glad that your body had finally developed a tolerance to the painful side effects of the suppressants, or else, people would’ve easily noticed how much pain you were trying to conceal.

Opening your pack of alchemical compounds and ingredients, you took a transparent olive green bottle and swirled it around to agitate the particles that had settled to the bottom. Removing the cork, you took a whiff of the godawful scent and simply prepared yourself for the equally rancid taste.  Before you could though, you…hesitated.

Hm?

You looked down on the bottle you were holding, the solution inside swirling as much as your mind was. Why were you hesitating? What was stopping you from taking another dose from the same suppressant you had been drinking for the past month? It was strange. Truly strange that you were making a decision over such a simple task that you had done over and over again for the past few months.

Didn’t you want to block that voice? Didn’t you want to prevent yourself from hurting that’s why you’re doing this? Then why are you hesitating? What’s stopping you from drinking?

“I feel heavy…”

You muttered softly as if any more weight in your voice could make it more unbearable. It was indeed strange—every time you decided to drink it, the heavier your heart becomes as if some parts of it were slowly turning into ice. You felt guilty for something; felt sorry for something you had no idea of. Could it be that you were actually feeling remorseful for the things you’ve done to your soulmate?

Gazing at the bottle one more time, you only felt more sick and grossed out; your stomach belching. It was like the dark liquid inside was a direct representation of all the hate and cold heartedness brewing inside your heart, and you didn’t like how it looked. It felt like some kind of cruel karma finally hitting you back.

Please don’t leave me…

A voice echoed in your head. You instantly panicked, afraid that it was really your soulmate, but it wasn’t. It was Jihoon’s voice. Jihoon wasn’t your soulmate.

Please don’t reject me. I’m sorry…

You didn’t know how to describe the pressure, the pain wringing your heart. It was excruciating. You felt sick. The look on Jihoon’s face that night was all your mind’s eye could see; the way he pleaded for you to stay by his side; the way he held you tightly between his arms as if you were going to slip away at any second. It was like you had caused him direct pain even if you didn’t know how or why.

“Jihoon…”

Your eyes wandered to the bottle in your hands again, but this time you stuck the cork back in, sealing it away for now. Whether or not you’ll stop taking them was a decision you weren’t ready to make. For now, it was best not to tempt karma.

Before you could utter another word however, you heard the main door open and you hurriedly cleaned up your mess on the table. You placed the green bottle in its usual place, glancing at it with thoughts in your head, before dismissing them altogether.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you’d be here,” a familiar voice echoed across the room, making you turn in an instant.

Jihoon was still clad in his formal attire—an all-black suit that made him look like he was going to a funeral. He had been busy running around gathering support for the petition he was championing and it had truly been an exhausting day. He had just finished hanging his coat over the sofa when you averted your attention to him.

“I—well, this is also my dorm so…” you awkwardly replied, your hands gesturing wildly.

“Ah, right, right. Sorry,” Jihoon replied, now a bit embarrassed of his rather obvious observation before he decided to walk away from you.

Considering his usual attitude, you assumed that he would immediately march his way towards his room and lock himself away from the outside world. However, the fact that he was still in the common room, pacing back and forth like some anxious teenager, debating internally if he wanted this or that remain, hinting that he was not done yet.

“Jihoon…?” You asked, slightly worried about him.

“I—“ he began, then wavered, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. It was embarrassing, but he just couldn’t find the courage to say what he wanted to say. Not after the fact that he had cried in front of you that night.

“Are…are you ok?” Your brows were furrowed, now wondering what was the matter with him. “I can make some basic potions—“

“No! No, I’m fine. I’m fine,” Jihoon interrupted and then pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “It’s just, well…you remember a few weeks ago when I got drunk? I realized I haven’t thanked you yet and I just wanted to make it up to you and well…”

Upon hearing his words, you immediately raised your brows in surprise. This was definitely not what you had expected.

“No, it’s ok! You don’t have to thank me!” you replied, now a tad bit embarrassed as well, as you gave him a small smile.

“But I want to,” he said with the usual firmness in his voice, glad that it was back. “And despite being roommates, we never had the chance to get to know each other better.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could say at that time. He had a point though—you both were partners back in that stupid ball, plus he had seen your breakdown before and you had already seen him crying. You both should just call it quits and end the not-so ‘indifferent’ relationship you had between the two of you.

“Maybe we could have dinner together…?” Jihoon asked tentatively as he checked his pocket watch. “I know a place you might like.”

“Out-outside?” You asked, wholly astonished by how fast things had turned out. “I-uh…”

Honestly, there was no harm in having dinner with your roommate. You already live virtually together, so what’s a small dinner to the both of you anyway? And for some deeper reason, you wanted to indulge him. Maybe because you felt sorry for him that night, maybe you had grown fond of him over time, you don’t know. You weren’t sure. Maybe something did change that night.

“Only if you want to, of course. We can eat here as well—“

“It’s fine, Jihoon,” you interrupted, fiddling with your fingers because you couldn’t bear to look at him, especially with how fast your heart was racing. “Let’s have dinner together.”

◇

It was a rather lovely night outside.

The skies were dark and the moon and stars were twinkling brightly underneath you. Yet what caught your attention the most was where Jihoon had taken you for dinner.

Lanterns of various colors lit up above you, hanging on string and bathing the whole area in a warm and vibrant glow. There was live music as bands strum their mandolins and played their fiddles, creating an ambiance of celebration and vivid colors.

A lot of people had gathered in the area, raucous laughter and loud chatting could be heard from everywhere. All of these placed next to a cliff side which had the best view of Porta Persa at night; the lights from houses and street lamps shimmering against the dark backdrop of the port city like distant stars high above the night sky. It was truly a sight to behold, especially when things had gotten tense and gloomy lately.

“It’s a night market,” Jihoon explained, still clad in his all black attire though he had removed his tie and unbuttoned the first two on his shirt. “Since the ports are where most tourists enter Porta Persa, we coordinated with all the local governments in the country and established a night market to boast the different cuisines found in Porta Persa.”

Your eyes were still filled by the sights while Jihoon began talking, yet despite that, you were listening to him intently, and his explanation just made you explode with amazement.

“Oh wow! Really? That’s actually quite ingenious!” You exclaimed with a bright smile, turning to him as you both walked around to check the stalls. “We should definitely feature this in the Edition! Look at what most people are missing out!”

Jihoon made a small smile at your comment, watching as you checked every single food stall for something you haven’t seen yet. He liked it when you were just having fun, unbothered by the problems of the world—just genuinely at the moment, smiling and laughing in front of him. If you could stay like that, he felt like he was at peace.

“Look Jihoon!” you called out to him excitedly, on your hands was a grilled fish on a stick. “This is a delicacy from the Oihe region! They would soak the fish for a month in Rejhu juice, which is a fruit only found there that has impressive preservation properties, and then grill it! It could go on for several months which is perfect for the region’s harsh cold climate. That’s what the lady told me though.”

“I haven’t tried that yet,” he remarked, and then smirked, “Maybe I’ll take some from your share.”

“Eh…but this is mine,” you pursed your lips and turned your head. “You go buy your own.”

Acting like a petulant child, Jihoon couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics, much to your chagrin. With an irate expression, you looked at him, who was covering half of his face with his hand as he laughed—you didn’t really appreciate being laughed at.

“What’s the matter?” you asked with your eyebrows knitting, your hands on your waist.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he replied, still in his laughing fit which eventually subsided into a smirk in a few moments. “I just—I never expected you to act like this at all.”

“Act?” you leaned your head to the side in bewilderment. “But I’m always like this.”

“I always thought you were the serious type, you know,” Jihoon explained, his lips curving; his eyes glistening against the vivid golden lights up above you. “I just never anticipated you could be so adorably childish as well.”

“Adorably childish?!” you repeated, now a bit flustered that you had been acting that way the whole time. “That—that was never my intention!”

Jihoon only smiled at you and patted your head gently. “It’s okay. I like it.”

You couldn’t muster a reply to that comment because of how heated your face had become. No one really complimented you like that, and above all, it was Lee Jihoon who did it—the same person you were rather indifferent four months ago.

“Come on, let’s go have some dinner,” he simply said without further ado. Taking in your silence, Jihoon decided to move on and walk around the market, leaving you in your thoughts.

In the end, both you found yourselves sitting on a table with a clear view of the Porta Persa skyline, giving the situation a rather romantic ambiance which you never really had planned on. Before you, warm food of various origins were placed neatly on the table, waiting to be eaten and fill your hungry stomachs.

“You have…. rather interesting choices,” you remarked upon seeing Jihoon’s meal of choice while you carefully dissected your fish from before.

“Hm?” Jihoon looked up to you with a questioning look, a fork and a knife on his hands. “Oh, these are from Santaragossa. They might be a bit spicy, but I do miss them from time to time.”

“Ah, you were from Santaragossa? I always thought you were born and raised in the capital,” you replied, taking a sip from a citrus fruit blend you found rather interesting.

“Why so?” he asked, downing a piece of braised meat. “I assumed I gave an impression of someone from the provinces.”

“Not at all,” you gave him an austere look. “You seem like you run the place.”

“Do I now?” Jihoon asked, his lips again curving into a tiny smirk. “I never realized you thought of me that way. I appreciate your sentiments though.”

“But what is it like?” you suddenly asked. “I mean, living in Santaragossa?”

Jihoon leaned his head to the side, wondering why you were asking him this so suddenly.

“That place was my childhood. The summers were cool and the winters were not too cold. Most of the land are large vineyards and olive groves so I would run around a lot and play with the animals and so on. There is also a large lake near the house which is a great place to swim in during summer months. I do have private tutors, so please don’t get the wrong idea that I wasn’t in school.”

As you watched him talk about his hometown, you noticed how Jihoon had brightened up, rekindling fond memories from his childhood. He seemed to be at peace and less troubled than he was a few hours before, and it gave you a sense of serenity as well, gazing at him like what you were doing at that moment.

“Just by looking at you, I could already tell that it’s such a great place,” you remarked, grinning. “I’ve never really left the capital before, that’s why I always wanted to go to one of the provinces. Since you definitely sold me the idea, I might want to go to Santaragossa someday, given the opportunity.”

A thought struck Jihoon in an instant.

“Hypothetically speaking, if I’d invite you to come with me to Santaragossa next week, would you go?”

At that very moment, in the middle of a night market, you were stunned to silence.

-Hyeri CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 |

[vickyskpopkingdom]

NCT U - BOSS

this was inspired by NCT U’s MV for Boss. i have too much love for nct and the boss-unit in particular and have always wanted to write something about. it wasn’t planned but maybe i’ll do a part two to this.  

until then enjoy this :) 

1.3k words

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"I can't believe you actually told your men to dye their hair to these rediculous colors!" Taeyong could hear Doyoungs voice more clear with every step he took towards their hangout. 

The abandoned bus-graveyard was exactly what the gangs of N.City needed to meet up with their own. Taeyongs gang wasn't the only hanging out here on the daily. But he had claimed a few of the better looking buses for him and his men. And currently he was on the way to meet them.

"I think it looks really cool actually.", Jaehyun responded as Taeyong stepped into the bus. "Besides Taeyong approved of the idea."

As always Jaehyun had been the first to notice Taeyong's presence. Somehow he was able to sense his boss everywhere and everytime.

Doyoung shifted his attention to Taeyong as well, who sat himself down next to Jaehyun. They had modified the inside of the bus to fit their liking. Only a few seats were left; in their place were now small tables, lockers and some of their equipment: bats, spray cans, face masks, and, and, and.

"You allowed him to do that?", Doyoung confronted their leader.

"Yeah, sounded funny to me.", Taeyong answered. "But honestly I don't care either way about their god damn haircolor as long as they get the job done."

Dyoung let out an annoyed sigh. He has always been the voice of reason in their group. Most of the time at least.

"Taeyong changes his own haircolor every other week so it shouldn't be that surprising to you.", Winwin entered the conversation. 

Taeyong turned to look at the blond man. "We're all here then."

The other three men looked at him expectantly. When Taeyong required them all to meet at the same time he usually had a very good reason to do so. And they hadn't pulled off anything big in recent times. 

"What do you know about those new boys?", he asked his friends.

He did not have to say any names. Everyone knew who he meant by the 'new boys'. There has been rarely any other talk between the resting corpses of the busses during the last few days since those rookies had showed up and claimed their spot as one of the most respected gangs in N.City. Rightfully so, no one was arguing that, but their sudden appearence made the people talk, asking questions, wanting to know more.

Taeyong, as the most respected leader and with the most successful gang under his wing, being no exception.

Doyoung sighed again. "It is not easy to find something about them. Whatever they did before, they made sure to hide it well."

"Precisely the problem, Doyoung.", Taeyong answered, "You can't just pull off spray painting the entire police station and delete their records of our doings in the same process without some kind of..." He threw his hands in the air, signaling his frustation and lack of words. "... training."

Jaehyung crossed his legs on the table and leaned back. "And their leader is so young as well."

"Mark is only two years younger than you and Winwin", Doyoung informed him.

"Well that makes him three or fours years younger than you and TY respectively."

"Lucas is the same age.", Winwin added, "And the third one, Jungwoo is only one year younger than us."

Taeyong got up and started pacing through the bus, front to back, back to front. A habit of his, whenever he was thinking about something but not being able to come to a conclusion.

"They make no sense. They may be dangerous."

"They are kids, Taeyong!", Doyoung intervened, before his boss could say more, "I am pretty sure they are not part of the police or whatever you are making up in that head of yours right now."

"And they are charming", Jaehyun said, looking out of the window. Most of the windows were covered in black paint but some were left as they had been before they moved in. 

Everyone followed his eyes. Outside they could see Mark, Lucas and Jungwoo chatting with one of the lone wolfs of the graveyard. Not everyone here was a fixed member of one of the gangs, some people had affiliations with them however and hung around until they were needed by someone. 

Taeyong recognized the man that was laughing at something Mark had said. "Looks like they want to recruit Sungchan."

"He is talented", Jaahyun chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You said he would not join us even if we asked him but it looks like he will accept their offer."

Taeyong let himself fall back onto the seat again. He leaned his head back and let out an annoyed growl. "I want them out."

"They are children!", Doyoung hissed again. 

"They are not. But I wasn't talking about fucking killing them, Doyoung. I just want them out of here." Taeyong circled his hand, signaling that he had meant the area around them. "They will get stronger soon and they will be dangerous to our position. I can't have that."

"That would be unfortunate.", Jaehyun said, still looking at the boys outside. 

Taeyong turned his head to look at Winwin. His eyes had been piercing into his head for a few seconds already. Winwin had a stare that could be sensed across the whole graveyard, without looking at him even once. "What is it, Win?"

"I don't think you can draw them out. They seem pretty comfortable and, which is way more important, the other gangs respect them. And apparently the wolfs too." He nodded into the direction they had all looked at earlier. "It could potentially decrease our rank if we did something to damage them."

Taeyong clicked his tounge. Doyoung may be the voice of reason but Winwin was the one who was always observing, analyzing. And Taeyong knew to trust both of them. 

And --as much as he hated it- both of them were right. Even though he was the leader of a well respected and yet-to-be-caught gang TY knew better than to go after someone four years younger than him; he had some morals after all.

He let out a quiet laugh. "That little shit Mark is smart. Fuck, coming here after having pulled of that stunt at the police station. Of course no one would question their talent and would accept them."

"Lucas is not to be messed with either.", Jaehyun added, "I have seen him fight the other day. That man can throw a punch that made my hand hurt from only looking." He turned his head away from the coversation outside and looked at Taeyong. "And Jungwoo seems to be talented with everything technical, from what I have heard."

Silence filled their bus as everyone thought about the boys. Laughter could be heard from outside.

Doyoung cleared his throat, looking at Taeyong.

"Please, Doyoung, do not make me ask what you have to say. Just spit it out."

"You could ask them to join us."

Jaehyun looked at Doyoung as if he had just suggested to blow themselves up, Taeyong was frowning heavily while Winwin was watching him for his reaction.

"And why exactly would I do that?"

"You have said it yourselves just now, have you not? They are smart and strong, they are respected, they are young. You were looking for new additions to the team anyways. And they would fit in with us."

"Would they?", Jaehyun asked. He could not help himself but to look outside again. The three men were still standing there, Sungchan had left, however they were now eyeing the very bus Taeyong and his men were currently occupying. 

When the three saw that Jaehyung was looking at them, Mark stared right back at him but Lucas waved. 

Unwillingly Jaehyun had to snort: "Maybe they would fit us."

All the eyes in the bus turned to Taeyong again. After all he was their leader, he was the one to decide what they would do. His opinion was well respected, no one would dare to act against him. 

"Let's invite them then. I want to talk with Mark, let's see what he has to say about this idea.", he finally said.

Doyoung visibly relaxed, Jaehyun waved back at Lucas while Winwin was already on his way outside to bring the new boys in.

Taeyong smirked. "This will surely be interesting."

[ballerinaroy]

it wasn’t love (but this might be)

How Angelina and George reconnected after the war. 

On Ao3

If it were just for flying Angelina would like her job a whole hell of a lot more. But the start of a new season promised very little time on her broom in favor of clothing too tight to throw a quaffle in while talking to reporters about everything other than the sport she professionally played.

She grinned and beard the spectacle of it all, knowing it was her team's best chance at landing ad revenue and a favorable schedule, enjoying the few moments she could catch up with other players she knew from Hogwarts or had met on the road.

“I’m going to quit,” she said through a false smile as she at last escaped the company of the young new executive for Quality Quidditch Supplies

“Take me with you,” replied a voice that clearly understood her exhaustion.

Angelina turned, ready to apologize for her lack of enthusiasm and found Ginny Weasley, lurking behind a chair with a comically high back, looking equally worn out.

“Ginny!” she said happily, “I’m so pleased to see you.”

“You’ve no idea,” Ginny sighed, “Is it always like this? I feel like I can’t breathe without someone asking me a stupid question.”

Angelina laughed, “Would you like a lie?”

A grin split Ginny’s face and she shook her head.

“I’d heard you’ve been offered a spot with the Harpies,” Angelina went on, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” said Ginny, rightfully looking proud. “How are you? Sticking with the Tornados?”

Angelina nodded. “Yes, yes. Extended my contract another two years. I’ve been good, my brother just got married so it’s been quite a year but I’m more than ready to get back to flying and not all this political nonsense.”

“You’re telling me,” Ginny agreed with a sigh. “Since tryouts, it feels like I haven’t been on my broom at all.”

“It’ll get better,” Angelina promised her. “How is everyone? How’s George?”

The question had been burning at her ever since she had spotted Ginny, though she hadn’t meant it so come so quickly.

Ginny’s smile dipped and her voice lowered. “He’s, er, he’s doing the best he can.”

“Right,” Angelina nodded, wanting to spare the girl from having to answer such an intrusive question. “I’ve been meaning to reach our, I just didn’t know…”

Ginny gave a practiced nod and Angelina felt like kicking herself for doing what she could only suspect so many others had done.

“Right,” Angelina said again, feeling her cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Well, tell him I said hey, would you?”

“Course,” Ginny nodded, looking a little upset.

There was an uncomfortable pause and Angelina wished to fade back into the crowd she was so embarrassed.

“Come round for dinner,” Ginny said suddenly.

“What?”

“At my parents,” Ginny clarified. And to the horrified look on her face, “It’s not like that, George is still living at home and everyone comes round on Sundays, Harry, Ron, Hermione. He’s not been up to leaving the house, but I’m sure he’d like to see you. And at the least, you could catch up with the rest of us.”

“Alright,” Angelina answered, surprising herself. “Should I bring anything?”

Angelina had only ever seen Mr. And Mrs. Weasley on the platform along with a vague memory of them being at her Uncle Micheal’s funeral, but when she walked through the door they greeted her as if she’d been coming round for years.

“And how’s your father?” Mr. Weasley asked after they’d greeted one another. “I haven’t seen him since Perkin’s retirement party.”

“Good, good, my older brother got married this summer, been busy with the wedding.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Mrs. Weasley beamed. “You give them our best.”

“Of course,” Angelina said just as the door to the other room opened and in filed Ginny, Harry right on her heels followed shortly by Hermione, Ron, and bringing up the rear, George.

Angelina hadn’t seen him since the funeral and at that moment she felt like she was looking at a ghost. His hair was long and hung limp on his face, the color absent from his cheeks. His clothes seemed to hang off of him and it was hard not to stare at him in pity.

“Oh, good, you made it,” Ginny interrupted her staring and she turned to greet them all.

It was hard to open a paper these days without one of them making the front page, but seeing them in person was so different. Gone was the haunted look from Harry’s eye that she’d seen at the Battle of Hogwarts and instead filled with joy at the sight of her. And how they’d all grown. Ron had already been a head over her when they’d played together at Hogwarts but now he positively towered over them all, even George though perhaps it was because he hung back, trying not to draw any attention to himself.

But there wasn’t time to be awkward with one another. Already everyone was sitting down after hugging her and whether it was by design or accident, Angelina found herself and George sitting beside one another at the middle of the large dining table.

Dinner was pleasant, Mrs. Weasley a wonderful cook and so long as she didn’t stare at George too long there was nothing uncomfortable about being there. It rather reminded her of school on the days the team would all eat together, before a match or when practice ran late.

Everyone else had migrated to the other room by the time she came back from the wash and she found George sitting alone in the darkened kitchen. He offered her a weak smile and she sat down in the chair next to his.

“Hey,” she said to him, smiling.

“Hey,” he echoed, giving her a smile as well.

The question of how he’d been died on her lips and they stared at one another in the relative darkness.

“Listen,” she said, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry I didn’t write.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t write either.”

“Yes, but-“ she broke off, knowing that the rest of her sentence didn’t need to be said. In the other room, there was a burst of laughter and George tensed at the sound. “I should have written.”

“You’ve been busy. Big quidditch star and-“

George broke off mid-sentence and she waited for him to finish, but his face merely turned to stone.

“That happens a lot,” he admitted, staring at the empty chair beside him.

She waited, patiently for him to go on, ignoring the itch to brush the moment away.

“It’s like someone took away half my brain,” George said finally. Another long pause and her desire to make the moment lighter. “The stupider half, mind.”

And so ridiculous, so painful, she couldn’t help but laugh. The kind of delirious caught she’d heard her mother emit the day her Aunt had died.

“It wasn’t that funny,” George said weakly, finally averting his eyes. His voice trembled with the effort of holding back his own tears.

“No,” she agreed, trying and failing to compose her face. “I know you can do better than that.”

To her utter surprise, he snorted and grinned at her. “Ah, fair enough.”

She continued to laugh with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“I know,” he said kindly. “I know.”

They put on pained smiles and Angelina dabbed the corners of her eyes with the sleeves of her jumper.

“You should come out,” she said impulsively,“for drinks.”

“Angie-“ he protested, looking uncomfortable.

“It’s just Katie and Wood and Alicia on the days she thinks she can survive five minutes without her boyfriend.” She went on as if he hadn’t interrupted. “We miss you,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “I miss you. And it’s just drinks and Quidditch. So, you should come.”

He declined her first owl. And her second. But on her fourth, she got the bright idea to send the message via Ginny and finally received a short reply.

Don't give up easy do you? See you tonight. -George

A quarter of an hour passed and then another and still, Angelina found herself staring at the door every time it opened, barely listening to the rambling story that Oliver was telling. But then, just when she’d given up hope, another cool bit of air hit her face and she looked up to find George standing just over the threshold, looking deeply uncomfortable.

The whole table turned and stared as he approached and Angelina, unable to sit still, jumped up to greet him.

“You came,” she said in surprise, meeting him halfway across the room.

“Since you’ve put in so much effort to get me here, I can presume you’re buying?” he said in a quiet voice and she grinned at him.

“What are you doing this Saturday?” she asked one Thursday evening as they waited together at the bar for their drinks.

He’d become a regular at their little club. Cut his hair though it was still long enough to hide where his ear was missing. Looked more like himself even though he spoke slower and didn’t laugh as loud.

“Nothing,” he answered, looking down at her in surprise. “But don’t you have a match?”

“Yes, well, I was wondering if you’d like to come?” she asked. “I could get you a couple of tickets.”

“That’d be brilliant,” he answered with a smile. “But I’d only need the one. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Well, that’s good because I’m not seeing anyone either,” she said boldly and he looked impressed by her courage. “But seriously, you should bring someone. It’s bound to get boring.”

“I won’t be bored,” George replied, looking stunned at the idea. “I’ll be watching you.”

He began putting his arm around her chair as they listened to their friends talk, so casually she wasn’t even really sure he was aware he was doing it. But every time she would smile to herself, and when they stood talking to others she lean a little closer, brush her hand against his.

She’d dated since school, and her career certainly provided a plethora of opportunities to meet interesting people, but she couldn’t remember ever having so much fun with someone, even if they weren’t technically dating. They were friends, she kept telling herself. Friends who hung out with others at pubs and stayed up late talking to one another, sitting side by side on the floor of her bedroom.

The fact that he’d started coming to all of her matches, didn’t really mean anything. Nor did it mean anything that she now attended dinner at the Weasley’s each week so long as she didn’t have to work. Weeks passed with them slowly relaxing around one another, spending so much time with one another that she actually missed him on the odd nights he wasn’t free.

We’re just friends. She told herself. He’s still grieving and doesn’t need any pressure.

But then one November evening, came the night with the tea. They’d been bullied out of her room by her flatmates and (after a rather copious pre-party) had been drug out to a club her teammates like to frequent. She could tell that George hadn’t wanted to come, but had been a good sport about it. Angelina had never been too fond of the place either and had been coming less and less in the months since they’d started seeing one another.

“It’s rather loud in here,” she said, leaning up to shout in his ear.

He nodded, though she wasn’t positive he’d heard her.

“Would you mind taking me home?”

George nodded gratefully, guiding her through the crowd and summoning their jackets from the table. His hand stayed on her shoulders till they were at the door and helped her into her coat as the bitter chill hit them.

“Thanks,” he muttered to her as they stepped away from the entrance and towards the alleyway they could leave from.

“No, thank you,” she said, putting her arm through his. “I’m all for going out, but what’s the point if you’re just screaming at one another?”

“What was that?” he asked mockingly, miming clearing out his ear. She laughed, stumbling around the side of the building still arm in arm.

Seconds later the bitter chill had left them and was replaced with the stale smell of the hallway just outside her door. George held her gloves as she fumbled for her keys and she unlocked the door, thankful to be home. She looked back to find him hesitating at the threshold, looking torn on whether to follow.

“Care for a drink?” she asked, hoping to draw him in. “If there’s anything left that is.”

George stepped through the door as she passed through to the kitchen, littered with half-empty bottles from the pre-party, and not smelling much better than the club they’d left.

“I wouldn’t mind some tea,” he called.

“Excellent,” she said gratefully.

He’d removed his coat and stood in the archway between the rooms, looking out of place.

To say she didn’t know what her plan was would be to admit that she wanted to have a plan. She had just wanted to get out of the bar, to get him out of it, but now that they were alone it was hard not to want to be closer to him.

“Mind handing me the mugs?” she asked, pointing at the drainboard, perfectly within her reach.

But of course, George obliged at once, stepping into the small space and passing them to her. Their hands met on the handles and lingered for a moment before she gave thanks and set them on the counter. George didn’t step away and she could feel him behind her as she put the tea bags in slowly before turning to face him. She had to tilt her head back to stare at him for how close he was standing and she leaned against the counter to stare up at him.

He was looking at her in a way that she’d only ever witnessed from the corner of her eye, but now he was unbashful in his looking at her.

“What?” she asked breathlessly just as he swooped down, hands on either side of her face and their lips crashed together.

Instantly she reached for him, and just as it was getting good, her lips beginning to tingle and racing brain surrendering to her heart he pulled away rather unexpectedly.

Angelina’s eyes flew open in surprise and found that he’d taken a step away and was looking at her, horrified.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” she assured him, trying to close the space between them again but respecting him when he flinched away from her. “George that was-“

But she didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence. George gave one last terrified look and disappeared with a loud crack just as the kettle began to whistle.

“Er, is George home?” she asked, feeling like she was in primary school and asking her friend's parents permission to play.

“Oh, yes, come in, please.” Mrs. Weasley said, ushering her into the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, er, he just left his coat,” Angelina explained, holding up the garment that had laid, untouched in her room for several days. “I thought I’d bring it over and make sure that everything was alright.”

“Oh,” she said, “Well, thank you, I’ll go see if he’s up. Would you care for something to drink? Tea?”

“No, really, that’s alright,” Angelina said, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

But Mrs. Weasley merely smiled and headed off towards the stairs. She peered around the room as she waited, trying to distract her anxious mind. Across the room, she spotted a clock hanging on the wall, hands pointing in all different directions. Curious she took a step towards the clock on the wall and found it to contain nine hands, most of which pointed not at numbers but at work or home. The hands bore inscriptions and when she leaned in she noticed the names of the Weasleys and automatically she sought Fred and George’s names-

“Hey.”

George looked worse for the wear, his hair flattened on the side of his head as if he’d just been woken up.

“Hey,” she said back a little too brightly.

He stared at her expectantly and she held up the jacket in her hands. “You left this.”

“Oh,” he replied, blinking at it in surprise. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she answered. “I would have stopped by earlier, but we’ve had training the last two days and-“

“You could have sent it by owl,” he interrupted.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She replied, feeling a little hurt.

“I’m fine,” he said in a practiced but unconvinced way. They stared at one another. “Listen, I should apologize.”

“For what?” she asked, surprised.

“For kissing you,” he said in an ashamed voice. “I wasn’t thinking and-“

“I wanted you to.”

“You don’t have to say that to make you feel better.”

“And I wouldn’t say it just to make you feel better,” she said, a little snappier than she’d intended. “You’ve been putting your arm around my chair for weeks, we’ve spent almost every night this past month sitting side by side on my bed. If anything you did made me uncomfortable, don’t you think that I would have said something?”

He looked at her like he’d never considered it and she braved stepping closer to him.

“I fancy you, George,” she admitted boldly. “I have for some time, but I wanted to give you space and respect that you might not be in the same place that I am. I will be there for you, even if it is just as friends, but please don’t apologize for kissing me because I’ve been thinking about it for ages and my feelings really would be hurt if you tell me now that you didn’t mean it.”

His face suddenly looked like his own and he grinned at her. “For ages?”

“Shut up,” she replied, blushing. “You think that it’s some accident that I always sit next to you whenever we go out? It’s not just because most men over-do their aftershave.”

He reached up to feel his own unshaven face. “Most men?” he asked self consciously.

“I rather think yours smells nice.”

George straightened, dropping his face from his hand and looked pleased with himself. They grinned, somewhat shyly at one another.

“I’m not asking you for a relationship or anything,” she told him. “I do want to be your friend, but I’d also like to think that perhaps one day we could be something more. But only if you feel the same way.”

“I do,” he said quietly.

Angelina felt her heart flutter in her chest and was unable to stop the open mouth smile from splitting her face. George was smiling back almost as widely. The stood smiling at one another for what felt like several blissful minutes.

“Er-are you doing anything tonight?” George asked.

Angelina shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I should probably shower, but, er, could I take you to dinner?” he asked. “So long as I don’t overdo the aftershave?”

She giggled and nodded. “It’s a date.”

“Did you love him?” George asked.

Angelina was grateful that she had her head against his chest to avoid having to meet his eyes. She thought about ignoring the question, faking sleep in hopes that he’d lack the confidence to ask it again. But it didn’t feel fair to leave the question unanswered.

“It wasn’t love.” She braved finally, her own heart pounding in her chest. “Truth be told I had a crush on the both of you which was ruddy confusing and felt a bit dehumanizing.”

“How so?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“You were both your own person, I didn’t think you were just one, but a lot of the traits I was attracted to I found in the both of you.”

“Like what?” he pressed.

Forcing herself to raise her head she placed a hand on his chest to rest her chin on and stared into his eyes.

“Like how funny you were,” she said, beginning with the obvious trait. “You always knew how to make me laugh even when I was in the worst mood.”

“Yeah, you did have a bit of a grumpy streak,” he teased and she grinned at him.

“I was a teenager, I was allowed to be moody,” she answered. He shook his head, brushing the hair from her face.

“What else?”

She pretended to think on it. “How protective you were. I’d always pretend to be cross when you wouldn’t let me go off on my own before matches against the Slytherins, but I was grateful that you never let Flint or any of his friends bother me.”

“Had to protect our star player,” he said in a low voice, looking pleased with himself.

“And when I was made captain, you never let anyone talk shit about me, even when I was a bit overbearing.”

“A bit?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“Shut up,” she said playfully, swatting at him. “And then, even after that bitch kicked you from the team, you’d still sneak onto the pitch to watch our practices.”

George smiled fondly at the memory.

“I knew you were just there because you were bored, or perhaps to watch Ginny or Ron, but sometimes…” her breath caught as she was on the verge of spilling a secret she’d never said aloud. “Sometimes, I’d pretend you were there just to watch me.”

And seemingly without thinking, George replied. “Sometimes we were.”

And Angelina watched, delighted, as the tips of his ears turned red. There was a tension between them that had never been there before despite the experimental kissing that they’d participated in. His breathing was the loudest thing in the room aside from her thumping heart.

“I loved him,” she stammered, unable to keep quiet. “Loved F-Fred, like I loved you.” It was her first time saying his name since, and she hated that it caused George to take a sharp intake of air, his whole chest spamming beneath her hands. She forced herself to go on. “You two were among my best friends while we were in school. I hated when you left school and every time you wrote me I’d read the letters over and over, searching for a deeper meaning.”

George chuckled, “We weren’t that suave.”

“A girl can dream,” she whispered.

There was nothing forced about his smile and she was positive he could hear her heart for how loud it was thumping. “I really like you, George. Being with you, it’s like—“ but words failed her. “Magic. I just like you.”

“Thought you loved me,” he teased and she found herself hiding her face. When she looked back up he bent his head to kiss her. “I’m really glad you came over that first day,” he told her once she was breathless. “I missed you.”

[reliciron]

Exploring Arcann’s Romance: Part 2

Alright, now on to the arguably more fun idea: he was interested in your character from the beginning or at least while he was still the villain.

Part 1 here

Admittedly, this option is much newer to me (though I’m not sure why I didn’t occur to me before), but the possibilities are very interesting.

I like some pre-existing structure. Thinking up missing scenes in the existing content is easier for me because I have a definite starting and stopping situation. If my character just came from a cutscene on the bridge of the Gravestone, and the next cutscene is in the Dark Sanctuary of the ship, then its easy to write what happens in the middle. I know where they were and I know where they need to be by the end. When the gap is too large, like between the end of KotET and the start of Iokath, I don’t really know what to do with myself and the possibilities overwhelm me, turning my scenes into a disjointed mush. So this option is actually very appealing to me (on top of extending that sweet, sweet pining).

Of course, when I say that he was interested in your character while he was a villain, I don’t mean that he was actually pining per-say, so much as his obsession with you was not just out of hatred. And as weird as it may be, I think it was Valkorian that spurred that interest.

Yeah, I know, Valkorian playing cupid is a really disturbing image, but he did sow the seeds of what would eventually be your romance.

When we first meet Arcann, he’s pretty dismissive of you. Even when he’s saying that your past accomplishments are “impressive” it’s still with a mocking tone, and when he tells you to “come along” it’s like he’s speaking to an errant child. As if he’s annoyed at the very idea that he has to babysit a prisoner, like some lowly guard.

He clearly doesn’t think much of you.

The exact moment he starts taking you seriously is when Valkorian extends his hand to you, giving you respect and asking that you join him.

Like I talked about in part 2 of my Redeeming Arcann posts:

Arcann trained for years, went through battle after battle for months, lost him arm, murdered his brother, just to be extended the same courtesy.

As far as he’s concerned, you’re just some asshole who did some cool stuff waaaaaaay over there. Prior to the destruction of Marr’s ship, Arcann didn’t even know you existed, and you haven’t even met Valkorian, yet he’s treating you like he’s known you for years. Like he’s been eagerly following your exploits, while Arcann was just doing what Valkorian expected of him.

It clearly enrages him. Lucky for us that rage is directed (rightfully) at Valkorian.

Still, Valkorian acknowledging your strength made Arcann take a second look at you. If you were so awesome that his father immediately treated you with respect, than you were clearly someone to watch out for. And that is were his interest starts.

Of course that interest is definitely later bolstered by the fact that Valkorian took up residence in your head, but he didn’t know that at the time (I think? I’m not entirely sure but we’re going with it).

He didn’t kill you. It would’ve been easier to kill you right then and there in the throne room. But he didn’t. You were interesting enough that he froze you rather than put you to death.

When you escape, he’s incredibly pissed, and I think a decent portion of the ‘anger’ we see then is actually fear. We know that our PC is the ultimate badass, but all he knows is what he read in the records of Marr’s ship. As far as we know at least.

Its been 5 years. He probably had his hands full at first when he conquered the Republic and Empire. But after that it was just day to day stuff, which he clearly didn’t care much about. You cannot tell me that he never looked you up in all that time. With how worried he was when you escaped, he had to know more about you than a basic list of titles and accomplishments.

It’s one thing to do great things when you have a decent support and power structure, but doing great things when you have nothing is an entirely different beast. He wouldn’t have known that the Outlander would be capable of doing damage as a nobody unless he read up on how you accomplished the things you did.

It’s the difference between knowing that you won the Great Hunt, and knowing that you did it in spite of a powerful foe blocking your way at every turn and only having like two people at your back.

The first one is impressive, the second one is scary.

Every time he has you cornered in KotFE, you manage to squirm away, doing further damage on your way out. He consistently underestimates you, and every time it happens he gets more and more angry. That’s why he’s so pissed by the Battle of Odessen that he’s willing to ignore Scorpio.

You challenge him. And as much as he hates you for it at some level I think he’s also intrigued by it.

Why does this person keep fighting him? Why does nothing seem to phase them? How did they get this strong? (This one is probably even more upsetting to him when the character is solidly light-side. He’d done a lot of terrible things to become this powerful and he definitely looks down on light-side choices as ‘weak’, so why is this ‘weak’ person able to challenge him? And if they are able to get this strong from the light-side, were all the things he’d done truly necessary?)

“When we first met all those years ago, I felt threatened by you. But now I see that I admired you even then – and it angered me.” - In-game Message

---------

Ok, best part, once he’s aware of his feelings for you, how does he act? And what is he like post-confession and into a relationship?

(Everything in this analysis is subjective, but I’ve been trying to leave room for other people’s interpretations. This part is going to be heavily biased in favor of how I read him as a character. If this isn’t how you see him, that’s perfectly fine, maybe this can just get you thinking about it.)

Alright, here we go.

Arcann screams ‘unsure’ to me more than anything else.

Why did the Commander spare him? What does the Commander think of him? What is expected of him in the Alliance?  How does he even begin to atone for his past? WHY IS THE COMMANDER SO NICE TO HIM?!?!

He is also positively drowning in self-hatred.

Which unfortunately means that once he realizes he has feelings for the Commander, he likely makes the decision that he won’t tell them. Ever.

He doesn’t deserve to have feelings for anyone. Least of all the person he tried killed several times.

He should be happy that he is allowed to be in the Alliance. Happy that he can use is abilities to protect them, instead of hurt them. Happy just to be near them.

The poor bastard probably has zero people skills beyond intimidation. And intimidating is the last thing he wants to be now. So there’s going to be a long period of awkwardness where he wants to be closer to them, maybe even friends, but really doesn’t know how. He’ll come across as stilted and there will be a lot of long awkward silences. Of course he’s a very smart man, so he’ll know that he’s  being awkward, which then leads to him getting frustrated with himself. We’ll see a little flicker of his old temper, not enough to be scary, but our character might not know whether that anger is focused at them or not. He’ll be hesitant and cautious, and will often fall back on submission. (Thanks, Valkorian). It will take time for both parties to get on the same page, and the Commander will need to be patient and do a lot of work to drag him out of his shell.

I foresee some talks with Senya. Probably for both Arcann and the Commander, but never at the same time. Poor, long suffering, Senya.

Once, he’s more comfortable, he might start doing things for them. Little sweet things, that are still safely within the boundaries of ‘friend things’ (at least as far as he understands, I don’t think he’s ever had a friend that wasn’t a sibling). I can see this sort of gifting behavior as a subtle I’m-not-trying-to-court-them-this-is-what-friends-do-RiGhT?! behavior. This culminates with the armor he gives you in the canon confession scene (assuming you include it).

Giving you armor, especially ‘to ensure you’re always protected’, just screams ‘I like you’ in big neon lights. And I personally love the idea that in Zakuulan culture, it IS a confession of romantic intentions. He just assumes the Commander doesn’t know that, so he can confess without actually confessing.

Ok, however you did it, they’re together.

I think he’d be borderline timid in the beginning.

Personal Headcanon is: Arcann had never been in a relationship before. Sex, yes. But not a relationship. Given what Valkorian says in his voice over during the KotFE trailer, I seriously doubt that he would have let them have enough freedom and down time to be able to have one. Especially since forming a strong attachment to someone else would threaten Valkorian’s power over them. So in addition to him just generally being unsure of himself, he also has zero experience in the relationship department.

He’s rarely completely out of his depth, so this would probably be a source of anxiety for him. He loves the Commander so much, but he’s so scared of doing something wrong and driving them away.

There will need to be some talks and comforting on your character’s part, letting him know that there really isn’t a ‘right’ way and that they’ll figure things out as they go along. That there will always be some hiccups in a relationship, but that’s OK and not the end of the world.

His insecurity about his looks will probably surface again, in one way or another. I mean, he wore a mask for years because he was so uncomfortable with people seeing his scars. And I think he left the mask behind, not because he’d come to terms with his appearance, but because he knew that his masked face had more or less become the symbol of his tyranny and he wanted to distance himself from it (along with being less recognizable while he was running around the galaxy). So I don’t think he’s really accepted his facial scars, let alone the scarring around his cybernetic arm. The arm will also be a source of anxiety for him, since most cybernetics seem to be stronger than the original limb. He might worry about accidentally hurting his new partner, either by gripping to tight, or by catching skin or hair in the joints of his fingers. You’ll also have to decide if his cybernetics are detachable (so he might take it off before sleeping), or if they’re permanently attached and can only be removed by a specialist. Does he do maintenance himself, or does he have someone else do it? Does your Commander have training in cybernetics and can therefore help him?

He’ll be very aware of what others think of his relationship with the Commander, and what it may cost them to be with him. I can see them keeping the relationship secret for a while, until its a little less new, and a little more comfortable. Then they’d let the inner circle know. Then the rest of the Alliance. There won’t be any official announcement, they just won’t hide it anymore.

Of course, I think Arcann will generally be less affectionate in public. There will be little things, like guiding them with his hand on their lower back, hugs, hand holding, but there won’t generally be kisses unless he’s worried enough to forget everyone who could be watching. The poor bastard is probably extremely touch-starved, so I bet he’ll really be into any affectionate touches the Commander will give him in private. For a while though, the Commander will likely be the one initiating things, until he feels secure enough in the knowledge that his touch truly is wanted.

Down the line, he’ll eventually come out of his shell more. He’ll be more confident, and openly protective (not to a controlling degree). I feel like this period is even more up to you, as it depends even more heavily on your perception of Arcann and what fanfic events you’ve put him through to get here.

One Quick Note About Alien Races:

It could be that I missed something, but I get the feeling that aliens are a new thing to Zakuul. That Nautolan chick who serves Scorpio seems to have immigrated there while we were frozen, and the only other alien that I remember seeing as a Zakuulan citizen was that random Bothan lady with the rebels in the beast pit of Vaylin’s party. I’m guessing that she’s an immigrant too, because other than those two, I don’t remember any other aliens there. I know the higher ups were AWARE of the greater galaxy, they just thought it was a backwater nowhere compared to them and saw no reason to poke around. I’m not sure the general population was aware, since they seem so blissfully ignorant to just about everything.

So I headcanon that aliens were pretty much unknown to most of them. Assuming that, I’d say the first time Arcann met aliens was on those battles Valkorian sent him on. ‘testing’ the Republic and Empire. He clearly didn’t have aliens on staff, so his contact with them has been minimal.

I like thinking about this because it adds another layer of ‘what the fuck do I do’ when he’s pining for, and eventually in a relationship with, the Commander. I’m not saying he’d be racist towards them, I’m just saying there’d be room for some cultural misunderstandings, and that he’d be extra worried about it. Even more fun if he’s ignorant of some of an alien’s natural abilities, like a Nautolan’s ability to sense people’s emotions, or a Cathar’s advanced senses. Cause once he finds out, we’d get the added horror of him realizing that he might’ve given his feelings away in a way that he hadn’t even anticipated or been able to control.

By the time Arcann and the Commander get together, dating aliens must’ve become a thing in Zakuul. It’s been over 5 years, and if Mass Effect has taught me anything, it takes exactly 0.6 seconds for humans to be DTF an alien.

It’s just one more facet of their relationship to explore, that’s all.

Ok, I think that’s it, any more and I’ll feel like I’ll be talking in circles. This has been more of a stream of consciousness thing, so hopefully it made sense and wasn’t too boring. One last time, this is all my own perception of Arcann and how I would approach a romance with him in a fanfic. If you guys have anything to add or any contrasting ideas I really would love to hear them.

Part 1 here.

[mexicancat-girl]

Still Waters Run Deep

A birthday fic for @chadsuke ​ / @ftcoye ​! 

The last time I've written serious Naruto fanfiction was 2015, so I blame them for this.

I wanted to write something as a thank-you​ for them being one of the best writers for the Naruto fandom. Their fics always bring me joy. Their characterizations are amazing. Their wlw fics are galaxy brain. 

AO3 Link (here)

.

...

Mei Terumi could feel a headache coming on.

It was not over the current war effort, thankfully. Mostly because said war effort had managed to defeat their opponents, ie: a snake-possessed necromancer, a thought-to-be-dead megalomaniac, an impossibly hard-to-kill plant man, a self-made Jinchuriki, and a literal rabbit Goddess.

Truth be told, anyone should be having a headache from such an insane repertoire of God-like beings managing to cripple five nations worth of forces. Or, well, any sane person—and Mei likes to think herself as rightfully sane, thank you very much.

She is, after all, the person who stopped a tyrannical Kage from furthering destroying her home nation from the inside out. And, you know, committing even more genocide. So, there was that.

Thankfully, she is the current Mizukage. The Fourth Shinobi World War is done and over with. They have won. They are alive.

But Mei hasn’t survived this long without being able to see the big picture or think a few steps ahead. She wouldn’t have been able to dismantle Yagura’s forces and managed to beat him down and kill him, otherwise.

Every nation has suffered great losses from this war. They’d nearly been fighting an unwinnable battle ten times over. All the current survivors were no doubt suffering from massive psychological if not physical damage, having had to watch their comrades fall before them in variously gruesome ways.

That’s without accounting for the people who watched as their dead comrades and family were raised from the dead to fight against them. Then with them. Then having their bodies crumble as the jutsu keeping them going burned out, the stolen minutes with loved ones lost making things either healing or unbearable, depending on the person.

Quite frankly, it was an exhausting debacle for all involved, in ways that most of them had not—could not—have accounted for. They were all pushed to their limits physically, mentally, and emotionally.

And while the threats were finally vanquished, it’s not over yet. Not by a long shot.

Because after this, they must bury the dead. Heal their wounded.

Then after that, they have to figure out where the hell to go from here. How to just…move on.

Sure, the shinobi nations all teamed up together against this major threat. But what comes after…?

How will they deal with war criminals like Orochimaru of the Sannin? Like Kabuto Yakushi? Like Sasuke Uchiha?

How will they go about making a peace treaty? Will there be a peace treaty? They’ve come together to fight in this war, yes, but that was out of necessity. So that the entire world did not fall into chaos. This rare show of unity can hardly erase decades of bloodshed and ill will and complicated history between the Elemental Nations.

It’s all a rather nerves-inducing line of questioning that, sadly, they must consider. Especially those in positions of power and authority. Since Mei is Mizukage, she’ll no doubt have to weather all of that.

For any and all possible talks of peace, the Kage will be involved, of course, because that’s a no-brainer. But who else will be pulled into the discussions? The war tacticians? The Nations’ daimyo? The very teenagers that felled a God and saved them all? Probably. Most likely.

Mei Terumi can barely stand talking to Water Country’s daimyo on a good day. Add in the daimyo of the other Nations—all ridiculously spoiled, ludicrously rich, greedy old men—will eat away at her will to live. No doubt they’ll bicker over who will cover the costs of reparations, and about how much aid should be granted to their shinobi villages, and blah blah blah.

Kill her now…

Mei likes to think that she is perfectly reasonable. That she can keep a level head, and bullshit with the best of them. That she is strong enough to get her point across without being callously cruel—and that just because she has compassion, it shouldn’t be considered a weakness.

Her nation has lived under tyranny and pain and tumultuously bloody waters for far too long. She does not want to rule with an iron fist, but still wants to be strong and cutthroat enough to protect her people and keep others in check. She’s sure she can lead her village—her country, her home—to a better tomorrow.

She’s sure that not everyone else thinks that. Many people see what they like to see, and they see a beautiful woman who acts coquettishly and dresses up. They see a woman who happens to have two powerful kekkei genkai. She must have gotten lucky, right? She must have seduced and swayed enough men to her side to do her bidding, for her to be Mizukage. She must have gotten in a good shot with her two bloodlines, to take out the previous Mizukage.

Mei is a perfectly reasonable person, and she is competent, and she is strong, and she happens to be quite a good leader thank you very much.

She’s also fairly certain that no matter how hard she tries, she will not be held in the same regard simply because she is a woman in a world of men.

Case in point: even if the daimyo don’t get involved with the peace treaties, there’s the other Kage to worry about. Mei would like to think that she’s got the patience to deal with them and the coy poker-face to back it up, but they’re all rather…hm. Eclectic is the most diplomatic word she can think of.

Onoki is an old coot who wouldn’t know innovation and progressiveness if it bit him on his fat red nose. Ā is, quite frankly, a bullheaded asshole who has negative tact and is constantly grandstanding to compensate for his probably small dick. Two patronizing, utterly misogynistic bastards that would rather butt heads and yell for an entire meeting than take any form of suggestions because they had sticks shoved that far up their own asses.

They were downright incorrigible.

There was also the third male of the group to worry about, though admittedly in a completely different sense.

Gaara speaks carefully and is perfectly polite, very willing to listen to others on top of that. He’s proven himself to be a good leader and oddly fantastic motivational speaker—kid could probably move an entire mountain range if he asked the ground nicely enough— strong in his own right. But there’s still the fact that he’s just a teenager.

He’s only been Kazekage for about, what, two years? Sure, that’s longer than Mei’s been Mizukage by double, but she’s been spearheading the Kiri Rebellion for a solid number of years before-hand. She’s led squadrons and held the lives of hundreds in her hands while Gaara was still stuck in school or private lessons. Suna scrambled in the time it took to train up a replacement after their Kage was assassinated by Orochimaru, lucky enough to find someone as strong as Gaara to take the mantel. But that doesn’t hide the fact that he’s the most inexperienced of them, made a Kage all at sixteen, barely seventeen now.

Despite everything he’s done to prove himself in the war—and having proven himself at least a good five times over, at that— Gaara’s age will always be an obstacle he has to overcome. Onoki and Ā certainly didn’t consider him a threat to their grandstanding and bullshit for just that reason, using seniority as to why they considered their own peon brains to be greater than Gaara’s.

Gaara is someone who’s willing to listen to reason, but Mei cannot count on him to be her main support. To act as a tiebreaker, possibly. But Onoki and Ā look down on him nearly the same amount as they look down on Mei herself. The fact that he is young puts him on the same level of Mei being a woman, in their misogynistic views.

The only person she can count on to have any Gods-forsaken sense is Tsunade Senju, and for good reason.

Tsunade is older than all of them but Onoki, and she certainly has the strength and experience to back herself up. She hasn’t been a Kage for as long as Onoki and Ā, but her strength is literally legendary and she’s well-travelled and intelligent, which is more than either man can claim. She’s one of the Sanin, and she revolutionized Medic Ninjutsu across the entirety of the Elemental Nations, for Gods’ sakes.

If not for Tsunade being temporarily incapacitated during her tenure, she’d have a spotless record.

As it is, she cuts through bullshit like a sharpened kunai through butter. Nothing cows her. No men will get her to back down, and certainly not men she could crush with her bare hands.

Tsunade is so competent and amazing, Mei’s possibly even a little in love. But that’s natural, isn’t it? It’s Tsunade Senju, after all. Mei’s sure everyone is a little starstruck when in the presence of such a force of nature.

In fact, Mei quickly finds that the first post-war meeting with Tsunade is probably the smoothest and most productive meeting between the Kage yet, no doubt since the founding of the Hidden Villages themselves!

And it’s all because Tsunade Senju takes no prisoners. When she sets out to do something, she gets it done.

Onoki and Ā are quick to start bickering about reparation costs and whining about treaties like the utterly braindead, paranoid bastards they are.

But, oh no. That doesn’t long very long with Tsunade around.

The blonde woman slams her palm on her desk with careful restraint, as the wood doesn’t shatter on impact. She leans over it, stares straight into Onoki and Ā’s eyes with an intensity that would make lesser men shit their pants.

And then, speaking in a tone that brooked no argument, “My grandfather, Hashirama Senju, God of Shinobi, could tame the Tailed Beasts. He first created the Ninja Villages for peace. He was literally re-animated to fight by our side, in the flesh. Alongside my student, one of the teenagers that helped kill a God because the world couldn’t shut the fuck up for two seconds and stop fighting. We. Are. Going. To. Have. Peace.”

Both men closed their mouths, in-synch, with audible clicks of their teeth.

For once, they are silent, and it’s utterly delightful.

“As someone who stopped a bloody civil war and the massacre of bloodlines, in order to bring peace to their own Village, I concur,” Mei agrees calmly, flashing a sweet smile with a hint more teeth than polite. Normally, she would have more constraint, but she is so damn giddy, she can’t help herself but jumping at the weakness like a shark smelling blood.

(She may be kinder than the past Mizukage by leagues, but she is still the leader of the Bloody Mist. She’ll find a way to reform her Village so it’s no longer known as the Bloody Mist, but they are still the most ruthless of the Ninja Villages by far.

That is to say: when Mei sees an obvious weak point, a chance to sink her teeth it, well. She’ll take it. She’s not all looks, after all. She’s as ruthless as the rest of them.)

Onoki and Ā narrow their eyes at Mei, their lips thinned as they frown disapprovingly and grumpily at her—no doubt for her daring to speak.

But before they can protest, Gaara comes in clutch, as the tiebreaker that Mei had been hoping for.

Hands clasped in front of himself and looking much older than his seventeen years, the Kazekage nods solemnly. “I agree.”

One meeting.

One meeting is all it takes to make the peace talks officially under way, and Mei cannot be more relieved.

She might just have to send Tsunade a complimentary fruit basket or something, as a thank-you. The Sanin has managed to nearly singlehandedly dismantle the bullshit of grandstanding and dick-measuring that the meetings would have devolved into, if not for her directness.

Besides, it was impossible for Onoki and Ā to ever compare, anyways.

After all, Tsunade very obviously had the biggest dick out of them all, just by proxy of how she conducted herself alone.

It’s also helpful to have someone that the saviors of the world so clearly respect and look up to. Sakura Haruno was literally Tsunade’s student. Naruto Uzumaki calls her ‘granny’. Sasuke Uchiha is wary around her and stands as far as possible from the woman that he can— without both appearing rude and leaving the side of his friends.

So yes, it was an absolute blessing to have Tsunade as the Hokage, if only because it made everything so much easier for Mei to handle as the Mizukage in political meetings.

Women have to stick together, after all, in a world of men.

But hopefully, they’ll help usher in a future where women are given the opportunities to be able to be equals with men. Being female Kage certainly helps start that.

The future is looking bright to Mei already.

...

[imaginesofeverykind]

Uncharted: Forged [Re-Write] ||2||

OC X Sam Drake

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Language (?)

PART 1 PART 3

|2| Panama: Bittersweet

"Ah shit, Sully? Have you heard from them yet?" Melissa’s worried voice travelled with her as she paced into the small living area of the hotel room. She fiddled with her hands while eying the older man, a cigar sat between his lips and a newspaper held firmly in his hands. In front of him, sat a radio in the centre of the table while the paired radio was supposedly in safe keeping within a Panamanian jail along with the rest of their party. 

His eyes glanced up from the paper at the woman pacing around, he had some idea what was going on in that head of hers. He merely shook his head,"sorry, kid." Sure she panicked when both brothers forgot to check in every now and again, it was seemingly routine for the brothers to cause unnecessary strain on the already hard working woman.

Melissa — much older now — sunk down onto a chair and stared at the various notes taped to the wall across from her, this would be their biggest heist yet. Providing they made it out in one piece.

"You worry about them too much," Sullivan pointed out, keeping his gaze on the current news story he was rather enjoying. Ever since Sullivan had met the three all those years ago, he knew Melissa to be one thing more than anything else; Caring. A rare trait people in this business had, initially he would scorn her for caring too much but over the years it became something he admired about her.

It was quite the contrary for her, she didn’t always care. In fact, one might go as far as to say she was particularly careless but that was something that changed the moment Sam Drake came into her life. Someone who had lived for self interest and carelessness was presented with something worth caring about. That someone was Sam. He changed her more ways than one, not so differently as she had done the same for him.

"It's not a crime to worry, Sully." She retorted, sucking in a shallow breath. She knew how important these clues were to Sam and Nathan, in fact ever since they were doing this type of work collectively, Henry Avery's treasure was always the thing they wanted to chase after. Despite this, she couldn't help but feel bitter about the notion of purposefully getting themselves locked in a Panamanian jail for just one clue. If it was even there to begin with.

"It's your plan, kid. Your plans are the only thing keeping those chuckle heads alive." He wasn’t wrong in that sentiment. More times than he cared to admit the keen eyed woman and sharp wit on her was the difference between them all walking themselves into an early grave or living long lives.

She drummed her fingernails on the table, having had enough of picking at her fingernails considering they were chewed down almost completely, "You might be right but… Part of the plan was also checking in every day y'know? It's been what? Three days, Sully please tell me you're at least slightly concerned. I didn't bribe that asshole guard to give them access to a radio for them not to use it."

Knowing he was never going to get through the rest of the paper in peace, Sullivan placed it down on the table with a grimace on his face, “Mel.” He started, grabbing her attention so she knew he was being serious, "if there’s one thing those two boys are, it's that they're tough — Dumb and impulsive at times — but they are tough. Stop worrying." Sullivan smiled at her, reassuringly.

She often did a whole lot of worrying but that was only because no one else was around to worry about them. (Save for Sully, of course). Carrying that emotional baggage around, on top of stressful jobs like this most definitely tired her out, exhausting her to the point of no return. At times she wished the moments that fell in between getting arrested, gunned down or chased, lasted that little bit longer to give her mental health a much needed break.

A silence grew between Sullivan and Melissa, much like the most part of the last two weeks had been. Silent, anticipation bubbling and the occasional small talk. Once the older man was positive that he wouldn’t be interrupted, he retrieved the paper to resume reading.

The quaint lull had lasted barely five minutes before it was disrupted once again, Nathan Drake making his presence known as he entered the hotel room in a fluster, still adorning his prison attire which would rightfully arouse suspicion if anyone saw him. 

"Jesus Christ, Nate." Melissa kicked off from her seat, scraping against the wooden floors, it toppling over as she pulled him into a tight hug. Sullivan haughtily chuckled, also standing up from his position. She pulled away from his embrace and punched him rather hard on his shoulder making him wince, "What the hell happened to contacting every day? I was worried sick about you and—" She looked behind him, seeing Rafe who had been their third man for the job, but no Sam.

Just the two men, Rafe and Nathan. "Sam...?" She slowly trailed off, she was positive he was just getting the supplies from the escape... She waited a moment, expecting to see him walk through at any given moment, yet when he didn't walk through the door cracking some dumb joke she looked to Nathan.

She now finally noticed the distraught look on his face, how panicked he looked and how his red eyes spelled out a picture she didn’t want to face. He needn't say anything to her as a wave of emotions came toppling down onto her. She raised a hand up to her mouth, her face twitching as her eyes burned, "no.... No, no no...." She kept repeating with every step backward.

Her pained eyes looked at Nathan once more, his solemn expression causing the first of many tears to fall, racing down her cheeks as she quite literally felt her heart break. The pain in her chest causing a whimper to tumble from her lips.

"I'm sorry." Nathan whispered, defeated. He dreaded walking to the hotel knowing that he would have to break the news to Melissa, seeing her in absolute anguish made him feel sick. It was like reliving the entire ordeal again, only that little bit more painful.

From the boat ride to the pier and then on foot to the hotel, he replayed his brother's death in his head, shadowed by what Melissa's reaction would be. Did he blame himself? Of course, he knew he could've tried harder to save him but now, as he grew progressively more sick in the stomach, he wanted to know if Melissa blamed him too.

Funnily, the entire time Nathan Drake knew Melissa Bridges not once had he seen her shed a tear. Not once. She had been shot, nearly blown up multiple times, beaten bloody before but never shed a single tear. It was foreign seeing her cry. A once perfect image he had painted of her was now shattered in the blink of the eye as it only confirmed that she was just like everyone else.

Melissa wiped away the tears from her face, the men in the hotel watched in curiosity and sadness as they could almost physically see the heartbreak, how she would cry in waves. It was intense for a few moments for her to then calm herself shortly, only for her to start crying once again. After several moments she dismissed the tears, looking up at Nathan with a sorrowful look and pulled him into another hug.

The two of them were almost afraid to let go. Since the age of twelve, Nathan always knew her as Sam's close friend and eventual life partner. She was always around the younger sibling even when Sam wasn’t most of the time. Nathan was family for Melissa, as much as Sam was to her and now the both of them were left with nothing but each other.

Each grieving party reminding the other of the now deceased man who brought the two of them together. Sullivan somberly joins the two in their embrace, trying his best to offer what little comfort he could. Admittedly he never gelled as well with Sam like how he did with the other two, he often found him to be incredibly careless and selfish — not to mention constantly putting both Nathan and Melissa in situations they didn’t need to be in. Regardless if the two had a connection with Sam he hadn’t shared, he would comfort them in anyway he saw fit.

Rafe, however, was left unmoved. In fact he felt slightly uncomfortable as he shuffled from left to right on his feet. He wasn't sure how to pay his respects to either of the three, most particularly Nathan and Melissa. Truth be told, he thought that the waterworks were overdrawn and he just wanted what they all came here for.

After some silence passed, the three eventually broke away, seating themselves around the coffee table. Melissa wiped her face once more, mustering up some pretense of pulling herself together, “You two look like hell," she folded her arms over her chest. If the circumstances had been completely different, Nathan might have been in the right headspace to sarcastically retort.

"She's right, what the hell happened in there?" Sullivan leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees, wanting to hear how exactly did such a clearly devised plan turn out so poorly. Aside from the bruising underneath Nathan’s eye and the fact they were moderately dishevelled, they didn’t look like two guys that had been shot at, save for the obvious bullet grazings on their skin.

"I found this..." Nathan spoke softly, presenting a wooden cross with a golden figure over the top of it, he sheepishly slid it across the table, "it's nothing special, not now anyway... the clue must have been inside the cross—"

Melissa shook her head and cut Nathan off, "I don't care about the goddamn treasure, I don't care about this cross. What. Happened." Her voice had never dropped to such a low tone before, it was nearly threatening in the way she demanded to know the details that led to her partner's untimely death.

Nathan sighed, avoiding her eyes, "turns out the prison guard we bribed, Vargas, opened the envelope and wanted a cut of the findings. I found the cross in some old ruins, but kept it from him. The three of us talked and we were well on our way to getting out of that shit hole until we got caught in a fight." He pauses before giving the greater details, none of it mattering to Melissa except how her foolproof plan ended up blowing up in everyone’s face. "He pulled out a hand made shiv — this guy was ready to watch me bleed. Then Vargas shows up with other guards, has us pinned against the walls and pulls out the cross. He was pissed I kept it from him."

She threw her hands up unsure what to think, "Then why didn't you just leave? That was the plan, get the clues and get out. I don't think I could've made it any simpler, Nate." Her sadness had began to meld into both frustration and anger, her erratic hand gestures becoming increasingly worrisome to Sullivan.

Nathan merely sighed, glancing over at Rafe who hasn't said a word since they got into the hotel room. "Believe me Mel, we negotiated and were almost well and truly on our way out when our pal Rafe decided to stab Vargas."

Her eyes closed slowly as she shook her head, finding it difficult to process the complete idiocy presented before her.  The youngest of the men puts his hands up in defence, not at all appreciating Nathan’s sly jab at him, the last thing he wanted was to be thrown under the bus by an idiot oaf.

"What part of the plan was so hard that you had to pull a stunt like that? The plan was easy, simple, foolproof...  Just get in, get out—get to that escape boat and come here." She clenched her fists and stood up, of course the rich asshole was to blame, the spoilt man had never experienced an iota of patience in his entire life. No one in their field of work was as impulsive and impatient as Rafe Adler, "but you had to go ahead and do that, now Sam is dead... And for what?" she gestured to the cross, "for that? Like Nate said, it's useless. So he died for nothing."

"Melissa, calm down." Sullivan put a soft hand on her shoulder, grounding her. She puts her face in her hands again as the visceral emotion begins to pass her by.

She looked apologetically at Rafe and Nathan before slumping down into her chair, "sorry... I just... Loved him y'know..." she looked down putting all her might into not crying again, the heart ache was almost unbearable to endure. The only thing in her thoughts were flashes of memories of both her and Sam, they all coalesce together as the reality finally hits her.

Sullivan keeps a comforting hand on her arm, looking at Nathan, “so what now?”

He blew out a long drawn out breath, leaning forward as his eyes looked around at the three faces in front of him, "we gotta go after this treasure, I mean, it's what Sam would've wanted. For us to see this through, and then, he wouldn’t have died for nothing."

Silence grew thick in the room, as much as Nathan wanted nothing more than to go home, his eyes lingered over at Melissa.  He knew that at the end of the day, she would have the final say in determining whether or not they would continue further. Rafe was in regardless of who was going to help him or not.

"God I hope you're right, Nate." Melissa sighed, stepping up from her seat and dragging her feet all the way to her room.