#oh she loves collecting things and selling them but she’s only got a strength of 8 so she can’t carry a lot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

renchinworld · 3 years ago

Text

THE BLIZZARD IN JILIN

Renjun x fem reader

fluff & angst // word count: 3.2k

This is the story of Renjun’s childhood friend who he left in Jilin when he followed his dreams of becoming an idol.

Now six years have passed, dozens of awards, hundreds of thousands of fans, and a triple million selling album later... he comes back home to see her engaged to another man.

A blizzard is coming to Jilin and it’s the strongest one China has ever seen.

___ ___ ___

“I passed the auditions!” Renjun hugged you tightly, shaking you from side to side in joy. “I’m going to Korea!”

“Congratulations.” You smile, tears forming at the sides of your eyes.

Renjun’s dream has always been to be an idol, but your dream was always him. To be with him.

For him to spill out the words that his eyes never fail to say everytime you catch him staring at you.

For him to realize that maybe he didn’t give you his coat on cold winter mornings when yours did not make you feel warm enough just because he thought of you as a friend.

For him to tell you that what he truly wants is to just be an ordinary man in Jilin, grow old with you, chill with each other in the warm fireplace as you look back on your lives in old age.

To leave it all behind and choose you.

But that would be selfish. That would leave Renjun always wondering with what ifs. He would be with you but his heart would be stuck with a dream he never got to achieve. Like an empty vessel of a person you once loved. You can’t bring yourself to do that to him just to make him stay.

You love him so much to cut off his wings when he wants so badly to fly.

“Shouldn’t you go home and pack?” You ask with a forced smile. You’re on the verge of crying in front of him. He needs to go before he sees your tears.

“Right!” He jumps. “By the way, you’re the first one I told. I’m gonna prank my family and tell them I didn’t get accepted first hehe. Serves them right for trying to stop me from going.”

“You meanie.” You chuckled and he smiled.

“Come on. You know I love them and it’s just for light fun,” Renjun ruffles your hair and you almost tell him not to leave you then. You bite your lower lip to stop yourself and his eyes land on your lips before he clears his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re always the first one he told everything to. That was your place in his life. But now, seeing him walking away from you, you realize he no longer belongs only to you and you to him.

He will be loved by a thousand screaming fans and he will perform for them in return. He will end your calls at night earlier than usual because he has to meet other girls and boys in the morning for a fansign event. He will eventually stop messaging you as he becomes busy and you’ll wonder if he forgot about you completely.

Renjun will get his wish while you can only dream of yours.

He will be shining as always. Under the bright, blinding spotlights and the glowing eyes of his many supporters. While you will be at your hometown, staring out at the snowy mountains, reminiscing the days when he looked at you the same way his fans look at him now.

Then you will wake up one day and realize that maybe this is bearable enough.

Maybe it’s okay to continue on, knowing that in this short life you met the one you’d choose in a hundred lifetimes, but he couldn’t choose you in this one.

Maybe you’ll finally agree to that arranged marriage your parents have been trying to set you up to.

And maybe you will change your dream to an actual goal instead of a person who will end up leaving you. Maybe, just maybe… you will forget about Renjun too.

And that’s exactly what you did. Or so you thought.

___

5 YEARS LATER

“Honey, remind your fiancé that we’re having his family over for dinner,” your mom says, poking her head out of the kitchen. “Call him, okay?”

You nodded and proceeded to just text Hendery. This arranged marriage isn’t out of love and you both know it. He’s in love with someone else and you’re not willing to give your heart to him. There’s no reason to call each other over things you can just text.

“He says they’re coming.” You said, walking towards the kitchen and making yourself green tea by settling it over ice and waiting for it to melt. Someone you once loved told you this is the best way to make them.

“You didn’t call him?” Your mother asks, concerned. You shrugged. “He’s a nice boy, sweetheart. You’ve been engaged for years and yet you still--”

“Mom, please,” your smile never reached your eyes. “We’ll be fine.”

“Is it because of Renjun?”

You gulped. The mention of his name felt like the cold air that hits you when you step out of the house. It felt like beautiful smiles fading into the background. Like a thousand dreams that were thrown into the fire but the ashes keep on coming back, smothering you and making it difficult to breathe.

“No.” You said almost immediately.

“I heard he’s back home, taking a short vacation.” She presses on, concern plastered on her face as she studies your expression. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“He’s probably forgotten about me.” Your heart was clawing at you from the inside. “Let’s stop talking about him, mom. Do you need help?”

“No, honey. I’m almost finished. You should just get ready.” She pats your back and goes back to cooking dinner.

___

Finished with making yourself look presentable, you went down stairs.

You stopped halfway when the doorbell rang.

No one rings your house doorbell. Hendery texts you whenever he’s in front of your house. Your father just goes in when he comes home from work every month.

Only delivery men use that contraption. But it’s night time right now. What delivery company would be on duty at 8 in the evening?

“Sweetheart, open the door for me, okay? I’m setting up the table.” Your mom called out from the dining area.

Something feels off. What if it’s a murderer? Nah, you’ve been watching too many true crime documentaries.

You looked at the peephole just to be sure.

You wished it was a murderer instead.

That would’ve been better for your health than Huang Renjun carrying a bouquet of flowers in front of your doorstep.

“What happened?” Your mom walks towards you. You look back at her, the color in your face gone. “Why aren’t you opening the door?”

She grabs the doorknob but you stop her, shaking your head. You hissed. “Don’t!”

Your mother’s eyebrows furrowed. She peeks in the peephole and sighs before she uses her strength on you and forces the door open despite your struggling.

“Oh look, it’s Jilin’s superstar! Welcome back!” She smiles, genuinely happy to see the boy who made your entire province proud. Asian parents amirite. “Come in, come in. Just in time for dinner.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.” Renjun says as he steps in and pays his respects. His voice was deeper than you last remembered. He was taller, more regal looking and even more handsome. How is that even possible?

Your eyes meet and a million memories flood through your mind. Him hugging you, telling you that he’ll be back soon. Not soon enough. You crying every night until one day you just stopped because you became numb. Not numb enough. Him saying goodbye on the phone one last time before he ghosts you. You cursing him on the top of your lungs and crying in the middle of a storm, wanting to just sink into the snow and freeze outside for years to come.

“Hi,” he says and hands you the flowers. Your eyes flutter, your hands are shaking as you receive it. You don’t know if you should be angry or what. “How are you?”

How are you? You chuckled bitterly. “Great, thanks for asking.”

“Hang his coat, honey. I’ll be in the dining area if you need me.” Your mom says quickly to mask the contempt in your voice and leaves the both of you. If your mother noticed anything, she pretended not to notice. The tension was so thick, it probably suffocated her.

“Won’t you ask me how I’ve been?” He smiles and your throat constricts. You don’t say anything so he sucks a deep breath, continuing. “We’re triple million seller idols now.”

“C-congrats.” You say, forcing yourself to not say more because if you do, you might say things you'll regret. You place the flowers down and he hands you his coat for you to hang. A whiff of his perfume passes. He smells like how a cozy and warm morning would be if it was a scent.

“I’ve missed you. I’m sorry for not reaching out--” You didn’t have enough time to process what he said because your phone suddenly rang in your pocket. He nods, eyes never leaving yours. “Go ahead. Must be an emergency.”

It was Hendery. You picked up. He only calls when it’s really important.

“Yes, Hendery?” Renjun's expression darkens at the mention of Hendery’s name. “A blizzard? Okay, I understand.”

You walk past Renjun and went to the dining area where your mother is. “They can’t come, mom. Can’t drive because the blizzard suddenly worsened.”

“Oh no,” she pouts, then her expression changes when he sees the man standing behind you. “No worries, we have a guest to help us finish the meal. Don’t we, Renjun?”

“Of course, it’s an honor.” His honey voice from behind surprised you. You didn’t know he followed you. “Careful.”

He caught you in his arms when you almost tripped. You were quick to stand up and remove his hold on you. Your mother just stared amused. You were always too composed and collected, but Renjun brings out a clumsy side to you she’s never seen before.

“It’s a shame her fiancé couldn’t meet her childhood friend.” Your mother sighed when all three of you were seated. You and Renjun sat across from each other while your mom was beside you. “The blizzard really did it this time.”

“Fiancé?” His brows knitted, mouth hanging open, waiting for your mom to say he heard it wrong.

“Hendery.” You said, not looking at him while taking a bite of the steak. “We’ve been engaged since 2018.” Since you stopped talking to me.

“Ah, of course,” he takes a bite out of his food but his eyes are still glued on you. “Congratulations.”

“They’re to be married next month. So exciting!” Your mom exclaims beside you and brings more food to your plates. “Eat up, babies. You both grew up so fast. You’ll probably have babies of your own soon!”

You cleared your throat, feeling the heat on your face. You probably looked so red right now.

“But… next month?” He asks again, this time not bothering to cover his distaste of the marriage topic. “Isn’t that too soon?”

You said nothing. Why does he care anyways?

Your mom explains for you that Hendery’s parents have been trying to get you both married since last year but you keep on saying you’re still too young.

“Right!” Renjun extends a hand to prove his point. “What if she changes her mind?”

He looks at you, trying so hard to steal your glance from the food. You give in and look at him. You almost gasp. This is the first time you’ve ever seen Renjun look this desperate. Not when his parents told him not to go to that audition. Not when he talks about becoming an idol. This was much more intense. Like he was about to do unspeakable things to you if you don’t answer him right now.

“I-I don’t think I’ll change my mind.” You finally say, feeling the heaviness in your chest spread through your body, tingling at the end of your fingers.

“Of course you won’t.” Renjun leans, shoulders rolling back as he adjusts his posture. He says nothing to you throughout the whole meal. He smiles and humors your mother when she shares more stories but he has never looked at you again.

___

“It’s dangerous for you to leave now,” your mom says, worried. Renjun insisted on going home because their house was within walking distance, but the air was blowing outside at terrifying speeds. “Just stay the night like you always do when you were kids, hmm?”

But we’re not kids anymore. Now, we’re young adults who are totally frustrated with each other. That’s not a good idea. But going outside is evidently much worse.

“You can use her brother’s room.” Your mom laughs from the living room where they both are. Your brother Lucas has rarely visited since he married. “You’ve always been like a son to us anyways, even her brother gets jealous of you sometimes.”

Renjun laughs with her, remembering the good ol’ days. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you so much. I’ll behave, I promise.”

Your mom turns to look at you. You’re washing the dishes in the kitchen. “She’s always insisting to hand wash instead of using the dishwasher. I taught her well.”

“I’ll help her. Please get some rest.” He smiles warmly at her and walks towards you. You both hear your mother go up the stairs, leaving you and Renjun alone again.

“Next month, really?” He asks, grabbing the plate from your hand.

“We’ve already talked about this over dinner.” You sigh. “Just drop it.”

“Are you even sure you want to marry him? Don’t you like someone else?” His tone carried a meaning behind it. Like he knew.

What does he even know?!

"I'm marrying him and that's final." You say sternly, your patience drying up. “That would make me happy.”

“Since when did you start lying to yourself?”

The ticking bomb within you explodes. Years of sadness turned into rage and it filled your heaving chest. Your eyes started to water. Renjun settled the plate down when he saw your expression and faced you, apologizing immediately.

“Please don’t marry him.” He suddenly pleads as he kneels down, touching your hands and looking up at you. “Come back to me. Please.”

“What? Why are you so--” you stop to breathe out loudly. Tears began spilling and your heart felt like jumping out. You wanted to shout in his face. Why do you care?! Why are you begging?! What are we?!

But only a fountain of tears followed. Years of practicing what you would say if something like this happened just blurred in your mind. No amount of practice will suffice once your first love comes back and tells you something like this. None.

“I’m so sorry,” Renjun stood up and wiped your tears away. His eyes also started to become teary. “I know I’m not in the position to tell you that but I still did. I also know I’m way too late, but I just want to tell you that I love you. I really, really love you. I tried to forget my feelings because I know it would be difficult for you to end up with someone like me, but I just can’t get you out of my head.

“Every time my group members asked me if I liked someone, I would say no but in the back of my mind all I see is you. Whenever someone sings your favorite song, I would remember how beautiful you looked when we sang it together. Every moment I go up on stage, I always wondered if you’re watching me from somewhere in the crowd. Every winter when it snowed in Seoul, I would think of how the snowflakes fell softly on your hair here in Jilin. I may have left, but my heart stayed with you.

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you. I knew you liked me back so I thought it would be selfish of me to let you wait for so long because of the path I chose. You didn’t stop me from following my dreams back then despite that. So I thought to myself, ‘she sacrificed for me, but I can’t do the same for her?’ and I decided that I needed to let you go. You deserved to be happy, too.

"I stopped reaching out so you could forget me and finally be happy in someone else’s arms. I was ready to let you go. But when I heard you were getting married next month, I couldn’t bear it. I can’t imagine it. I’d rather die. I’d rather give up on everything than see you walk down the aisle for another man--”

His voice cracks. Head drooping down into yours as he hugs you tightly. As if he let you go now, he would lose you completely. As if he doesn’t squeeze you like this, you will end up continuing with the marriage.

You looked up at the ceiling, tears flowing and mouth hanging open from his words. Isn’t life funny? For years you were scrambling for answers and in just a mere minute, everything has started coming together.

“Renjun...” You say, your voice low and shaky. “I can’t breathe.”

He loosens his hold on you and looks you in the eyes. His hands cupped your face. “Did you hear me? I said I love you. I said I really, really, really love you.”

“I heard, dumbass.” You cough up a small laugh, the tears won’t stop falling. “I love you too.”

He sighs, relief washing over his face. “Marry me instead?”

“Dude, don’t you think you’re going too fast?” You say, your hands planted on his chest. Eyes puffy. Renjun only found it cute.

“The last time I stalled, I almost lost you. So I’m going all-in now.”

“You’re a kpop idol. What am I supposed to do if you're on tour and I need to give birth, hmm?”

"Don't you think you're moving faster than me? I'm just at the marriage part and you're already at pregnancy." He chuckles. "Then again, maybe we can rearrange the order of things…"

You smacked him on the chest lightly. Who knew he could make dirty jokes like this now?

"You told my mom you would behave."

"Your mom likes me and wants grandchildren. I don't think she'd mind."

"Shut up." You say with a smile and he kisses you. You didn’t expect him to come in stronger than a blizzard and break down all your defenses. His kiss. His truth. His love for you. Him.

There’s still a lot to be done before you two can be free to love each other without worries. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how challenging it is from here on out, you two will have each other and that's all you need. It would be like this. Always.

Renjun's kiss deepens and he smiles victoriously as you melt into his arms. A dozen awards and a ton of trophies he received, but none of those comes close to winning your heart.

___

From upstairs, your mom smiles to herself. She heard everything when she went to ask what's taking so long but backed away quietly when she heard you both crying.

"I knew these kids just needed a little push. Oh, oof. We have to cancel that engagement…."

___ ___ ___

a/n: Dude I loved writing this so much I actually didn’t want it to end lmao

#nct renjun fanfic #nct fanfic #renjun fluff #renjun angst #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream fanfic #renjun imagines #this is my first fic hehe pls be nice

56 notes · View notes

bill-y · 4 years ago

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second.

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them.

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height, ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain. I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"

#hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #male reader #hunger games #male reader insert #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #x male reader #peetamellark #gale #katniss everdeen #male x male reader

118 notes · View notes

evilwickedme · 3 years ago

Text

ok so to sum up my feelings for leverage: redemption, season 1(a): (long post warning, there’s a tl;dr at the end)

I knew that Hardison wouldn’t be in most of the season due to Aldis Hodge being a busy bee nowadays, but I didn’t realize that meant he’d only be around for the first two episodes. He was sorely missed, not only because of my attachment to him, but also because he’s usually the grounding factor in the group dynamic, and his role as info guy and tech guy was split evenly between two characters who had their own issues.

That said, Hardison is absolutely a highlight of the two episodes he’s in. his speech about redemption was everything I could’ve hoped for (plus, more evidence for the Jewish!Hardison pile...). I wish we’d gotten to see more of his dynamic with Breanna because what we saw was funny and sweet and we don’t generally get to see Hardison taking care of somebody who so desperately needs taking care of. I hope that Aldis Hodge is around for more episodes in 1(b), because what we’re left with feels a little hollow.

Sticking to original leverage characters for now, for the most part the leverage crew still felt true to the original series as characters, even if the show itself was a little bit confused at times. The actors understand their characters and embody them so well that I think one could give them the trashiest script ever and they’d still sell it. Sophie is a particular focus in 1(a) because of Nate’s death, and she’s particularly well written as a result.

That said, I’m super bitter that we saw little to no mastermind!Parker. Parker’s character being given the mastermind role was a big deal and it feels like they’re walking it back because they feel uncomfortable with it. It is eventually given an in-text excuse, but literally in the last episode, and it was not a particularly convincing reason, and in fact contradicted moments from previous episodes (Sophie leaving for a client meeting and ignoring Parker in ep3 comes to mind). It’s frustrating, it makes the end of the original leverage feel pointless, and letting Parker make a decision once in a while is not the same thing at all. The original series repeatedly showed us that while everyone in the team had their strengths, Parker works problems and solves them in unique, interesting ways, and other characters’ days in the limelight tended to be comedic or even failures. It’s a broken promise, and a pretty major broken promise at that.

On a more positive note, Parker’s dynamic with literally everyone was fantastic. She’s possibly the best written character this season. They’ve taken the autism out of the subtext and into the text (although obviously still undiagnosed), and given her coping mechanisms that were taken seriously in the text even when they were played for laughs, which I appreciated. Her attempts to mentor Breanna were sweet, her friendship with Sophie was electric and at times (CRIMES) hilarious, and as usual, she has a fantastic dynamic with Eliot that makes my heart burst. If you don’t think they’re romantically involved, at least acknowledge there’s a life partnership here. They’ve spent the last decade together.

(We’ll get to Harry.)

Eliot isn’t given much arc-wise, which is frustrating since he’s my favorite. He’s being presented as the goal at the end of a redemption arc, ie to keep working at it every day until your soul heals or whatever, and it doesn’t reflect the message they’re trying to convey via Hardison’s speech and our two new characters. He’s got his moments, but I think they under utilized his potential.

Breanna!!! Breanna’s my new favorite, except for Eliot. She’s hilarious, she’s insecure, she’s nerdy and excited in a way that’s similar to Hardison but still distinct in its inherent teenage-girl-ness and I LOVE IT. Unlike the previous series, where Hardison’s “age of the geek” was often a joke played on Hardison, we’re at the point where Eliot and Parker are both right there with him, and so they accept and even appreciate Breanna’s nerdiness. Also, canon gay character? In YOUR Leverage? It’s more likely than you think.

(No, I never thought they’d make ot3 canon on screen. I hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.)

I think Breanna’s the character that will be the most interesting to see grow. She’s got a lot of potential and a list of crimes a mile long (or more). I adore her with all my heart. I want to see her tiktok account.

Harry. Oh, Harry.

It took me a while, but I do like Harry. It took a while, because the narrative positioned him at the same level as Nate back in episode 1 of original Leverage. But in episode 1 we didn’t know the other characters. We had Nate as the POV character, and so we cared about him because we were seeing the world through his eyes. (This is TV Studies 101. I know this, because I took TV Studies 101 in 2019.) In Leverage: Redemption, we no longer have a POV character, for several reasons:

Nate, previously the POV character, is dead.

As it is, by mid-season 3 of leverage Nate was no longer a POV character. This is, coincidentally, the point where the leverage writers realized they had four other characters in the main cast they could do something with, and in-universe, Nate accepted that he was a thief, not a special Good Man.

Sophie is sort of a POV character for the first episode of the revival, but only for the first few minutes. Afterwards, the series settles into the groove of seasons 3-5, i.e., the entire crew is our POV. We know our crew, and we love them as is.

Narratively, however, Redemption insists on positing Harry as the POV character, because it is his redemption we are pursuing most vehemently. And I think they really relied on us already knowing the actor - I’ve never seen him in anything before, so to me he was a completely fresh face and they put almost no effort into selling him to me. Beyond being competent and consistently mildly baffled by the antics of the leverage crew, I honestly don’t know who this man is by the end of EIGHT episodes with him. I have a much better handle on Breanna by the end of 1(a), and I can tell you I knew all five of the original leverage crew better by the end of the first episode of the original series than I do Harry. What’s the name of his daughter, John Rogers. Is he still married. How old is the daughter. Why is none of this worth mentioning. Give him a sense of humor that isn’t reacting to other people’s shenanigans. I’m so frustrated. It’s bad writing.

I did manage to grow to like Harry by the end, but I’m pretty sure this is down to Noah Wyle’s charismatic portrayal of an under-developed character, at least partially. And I never stopped being frustrated at not knowing who this man is at all.

The two highlights of the season are undoubtedly episodes five and six. Episode five was the first time I felt like the episode was more than a collection of good moments between the main cast and mediocre moments between the main cast and also the main plot. The issues with pacing and tone that I suffered through for most of the season were mostly non-existent in ep5 and 6, and at least in episode 5 I attribute that to the pared down cast. They had time to focus not only on our actual characters - Sophie, Parker, Breanna - but also on the case. This is the only client from 1(a) I am going to remember next week without googling it first, mark my words.

Episode six worked for the exact opposite reason - it completely disregarded the client and plot and immersed itself in the characters. Breanna gets a moment to shine, but everybody else gets their bits and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the script that was most fun to write. The characters felt natural, real, and captured the found-family dynamic that’s been missing all season for the first time.

While episode 2 is the weakest episode, I don’t actually have much to say about it. I am disappointed in episode 8. For a mid-season finale, I really expected them to do something. Instead, it was an episode about Nate Ford that copped out of being about Nate Ford (both with fake-Nate and with the new version of him being relayed to us). I would have told the writers to give that energy back to episode 1 and write an episode that’s about anybody who isn’t Harry, oh my God. I know I said I grew to like him but so many episodes were about Harry. He’s the newbie! Why didn’t Hardison get an episode that was actually about him, considering he was only around for two episodes? Why does Eliot have to be the butt of the joke when the theme of the series should directly tie back to him in a much more meaningful way? The last episode parodies their own tagline by saying Eliot isn’t just a hitter, but it deftly avoids noticing that they’ve turned him into nothing more than very muscly comic relief, including in that very episode!

Also, I hated the Marshal. Eliot actively looked uncomfortable around her.

tl;dr

The season took a while, that’s definitely true. But it did find its footing eventually, and by the halfway mark of 1(a) it finally felt cohesive again. The characters were played fantastically even when they weren’t well-written, and if nothing else, the humor landed every time. It still has its kinks and problems to work out, but if you look at it as a brand new show rather than a continuation of one that went off the air over eight years ago, it’s actually doing rather well. I’m choosing to judge it in both lights - according to its own standards, it establishes its identity in episode five; according to Leverage standards, it establishes its connection to its roots in episode six. Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed 1(a), and continue to have high hopes for 1(b).

fic writing will commence in three, two, one...

#leverage #leverage meta #leverage redemption #leverage ot3 #parker leverage #alec hardison #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #breanna casey #harry wilson #mine

45 notes · View notes

themurphyzone · 3 years ago

Text

BatB AU: A Provincial Life

Summary: It’s an ordinary day in ACME Village for Pinky. Until it isn’t.

AN: This oneshot adapts the opening number ‘Belle’ and village scenes, up until Pinky sets off for the castle in search of his father, which leads into the entry Imprisoned.

AO3 Link

Pinky scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into a small, earthen bowl, humming dreamily as he added a dash of cinnamon and several apple slices into the mixture.

Today was a very special day for Papa, and Pinky wanted him to eat a healthy and nutritious meal before he went off to the fair with his invention. It would be a few days of travel, and Papa would need his strength for traveling there and back.

“Papa, I’m going out!” Pinky called as he carefully pushed a large woven basket of acorns outside. “Your breakfast is on the table, so make sure you eat it all!”

There was a sputter and cough of machinery and a trail of smoke from the small room that served as a makeshift workshop next to the kitchen, followed by a loud bang.

“Just getting ‘er warmed up for the final test!” Papa shouted. “C’mon, Madeleine! You may’ve fallen apart for the 264th time, but you can do it!”

Oh, Pinky had no doubt people were gonna love the woodcutting, ax-wielding, only occasionally threatening to take fingers off machine known as Madeleine. She was definitely gonna win that gorgeous blue ribbon at the fair! And even if she didn’t, they’d love her all the same anyway.

He opened the door and stepped into the beautiful autumn morning, taking in the cool, fresh air as he carefully maneuvered the basket of acorns into a red wagon. The leaves were varying hues of crimson and gold, dancing along a gentle breeze that ruffled Pinky’s fur. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slowly bathing the world in light as it rose.

Two songbirds flew merrily above him, their sweet morning song filling the air with beautiful music. Pinky reached up, and one of the songbirds briefly landed on his outstretched hand before flying after his partner, leaving a red feather behind.

“Thanks for the feather!” Pinky shouted to the sky as he tucked the feather behind his ear, where it fit perfectly.

He picked up the wagon handle and pulled it along, the wheels squeaking along behind him.

In the meadow beside their quaint little cottage, Pharfignewton chewed placidly on dew-covered grass. She neighed a greeting to Pinky, and Pinky cheerfully waved back. As much as he loved taking the beloved family horse into town for company, she needed her strength to lug Papa, Madeleine, and all their supplies later. So he had to let her rest.

Reeds and wildflowers of all sorts grew along the banks of the pond that separated the little cottage from the rest of ACME Village. A pair of ducks paddled along in the water, trailed by four adorable, fluffy yellow ducklings. Several tiny turtles sunbathed on an old log, while a large green frog sat on its lily pad and caught insects unlucky enough to stray in the path of a long, sticky tongue.

Pinky took his time crossing the cobblestone bridge over the pond, watching the wild animals go about their day without hustling, bustling, or rushing from place to place. Their lives were very different from their neighbors, despite living so close together.

Little animals, little pond, and little humans in their little town.

Or was everything just bigger than him? He was a mouse after all. It wasn’t hard to be bigger than a mouse, unless one happened to be an insect.

As Pinky crossed onto the other side, he spotted a smooth, pretty gray stone poking out of the reeds. He plucked it out of the damp soil, cleaning the dirt off with the inside of his apron.

It would be a perfect stone for his collection. And he didn’t have any that were this smooth. Most of the rocks he picked up were half-crushed or broken from city streets or well-worn paths. He tucked it into a pocket that he’d sewn on himself, because for some odd reason dresses never came with pockets.

Then he faced the little town, with all its timber and stone buildings lining a narrow cobbled street that quickly filled with half-asleep, half-awake people trying to get an early start on their sales and trades.

To think he and Papa had lived here for three years. While not the most exciting town in the world, Pinky was just happy they didn’t have to move again. He’d spent too much of his life being bustled from place to place since Mama died. The cottage was the loveliest place they’d ever owned.

And while the townsfolk had the same ol’ familiar routine every day, Pinky tried to vary his activities. From baking to horseback riding to volunteering for odd jobs around town, or just taking a day off to nap under a tree and roll down the hilly meadows while grass stains formed on his back.

Just a normal provincial life, yet Pinky often wondered what laid in the big blue yonder. Did the stars and sky look different elsewhere? Do the clouds form big, fluffy, and silly shapes in South America?

“Bonjour!” a man called out as he threw open his shutters.

“Good morning, Emile!” Pinky replied as he skipped past his window.

“Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!” The echoing chant swept across rooftops and streets alike as a new day dawned upon ACME Village.

Everyone from chimney sweepers to merchants to coachmen responded with vigor and cheer, all of them satisfied with their occupations in life.

Pinky greeted everyone he passed, though not all returned the gesture. Everyone was staring at the feather tucked behind his ear, the bulge of the stone in his pocket, or the red wagon with the basket he pulled along. He didn’t think he was that strange-looking.

Unless he had a bit of cabbage stuck in his teeth again. But he flossed really well last night, so he didn’t think that was the case.

“Marie, hurry up with the baguettes!” the baker shouted as he carried several loaves of bread outside.

Pinky inhaled deeply. There was nothing quite like the scent and sound of fresh bread.

“Narrrrrrf! Smells just like heaven, Mr. Baker!” Pinky exclaimed.

The baker set his tray of bread on a windowsill, tapping his foot as he impatiently waited for Marie. “Morning, Pinky. You off somewhere this morning?” he asked, though he didn’t turn around.

“Yup! I’m delivering this basket of acorns to Slappy!” Pinky said, pointing to his basket of acorns. “She really likes the acorns near our cottage but doesn’t wanna make the trip herself. She says it’s too far for her aching joints and she can’t take Skippy along because she’s still trying to convince him that we’re not gonna be shot like Bumbie’s mom if we venture into the meadow, and-”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,” the baker said, half-leaning into the open window. “Marie, I said hurry up with the baguettes! The morning rush is coming soon!”

“Well, if you’d bought the ingredients from Francois instead of Vincent like I suggested then maybe we wouldn’t be running behind, Pierre! But no, you always act like you know best!” Marie snapped.

Not wanting to get embroiled in yet another argument between the baker and his wife, Pinky followed the cobblestone path further into town, where the usual market sprung up, full of local farmers, tradesmen, and merchants.

Villagers bartered and argued and traded like always, and as Pinky stopped to admire a small yellow daisy poking out from the cracks of the street, he could feel eyes follow him closely in that looking-at-you-but-pretending-we’re-not sort of way.

“There goes the funny mouse again.”

“Gets distracted by the littlest things, I swear.”

“Does he even have a useful skill?”

“Besides being the village idiot? Doubtful.”

They’d made those comments ever since he and Papa had moved in. Everywhere they went, people asked Pinky for his trade, and Pinky always told them he took care of Papa and worked various odd jobs around the area for money.

But that wasn’t considered a useful role in society.

He didn’t mind helping Papa though.

Oh well though. He couldn’t delay getting these acorns to Slappy, so he hauled his wagon alongside a horse-drawn carriage that steadily cut through the crowded streets, clearing Pinky’s path.

“Bonjour!” the coachman called to a young woman walking down the street. His eyes were trained on the girl rather than the road, and his horse plowed straight into a farmer’s cart, knocking his produce into the road.

“MY CABBAGES!” the farmer screamed, tearing out his hair as several pigs devoured his vegetables.

The coachman let out a nervous laugh and flicked the reins, spurring his horse forward and blithely ignoring the despairing farmer’s demands for compensation.

“I need six eggs!” a woman cried as she tried to hold several fussing babies at once.

“That’s too expensive!” a man complained to someone selling pottery. “Twenty coins for a pile of cheap clay? Bah!”

Pinky and the carriage parted ways as the cobblestone street changed to an unpaved dirt path. The gossip and chatter of ACME Village faded to background noise.

Slappy had made her home in a hollow tree on the outskirts of town, close enough to get supplies but far enough to deter most from knocking on her door.

Pinky passed by many warning and danger signs that kept most people from bothering the old squirrel. There was a new post up today, right next to Slappy’s front door.

LAST WARNING

NO SELLING, NO PREACHING, NO TAX COLLECTING

KNOCK AT YOUR OWN RISK

Well, what was life without a little risk? Pinky knocked on the door anyway.

He was trying to decide if one of the clouds overhead was shaped more like a monkey or a strawberry when a small brown squirrel in a blue nightgown and cap opened the door. Despite the early morning, he was wide awake and hopping in place, his excitement only growing as he spotted the basket of acorns behind Pinky.

“Morning, Skippy! Got the basket of acorns your aunt wanted!” Pinky exclaimed.

Skippy grinned as he took the basket from the wagon. “Thanks, Pinky! Aunt Slappy will love these!”

He popped a few acorns into his mouth and loudly crunched the shells.

“Skippy, what’d I say about answering the door at this godforsaken hour in the morning?” a cranky voice yelled from upstairs.

“It’s just Pinky with the acorns, Aunt Slappy! No door to door salespeople, preachers, or tax collectors in sight!” Skippy shouted. Then he turned back to Pinky and pointed to his ear. “I like your feather, by the way.”

“Thanks! I like your nightcap!” Pinky said, returning the compliment with his own.

A few moments later, Slappy joined Pinky and Skippy downstairs. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her long gray tail dragging behind her.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Slappy asked. She tossed several acorns into her mouth and nodded her approval. “Crunchy with a pinch of salt. This is gonna be a good topping for my world-renowned creamed spinach later.”

“SPEEWWWWWWWWW!” Skippy cried, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

Pinky just smiled politely. Slappy took a lot of pride in her creamed spinach recipe, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying it tasted like soggy socks.

“Hey, when I was your age, I ate lots of creamed spinach for dinner. And now I have enough muscles to wield a hundred ton mallet,” Slappy retorted.

“Wow! Was that when dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Skippy asked.

Slappy gave him a light smack on the back of his head. “Little brat. Go grab a few coins from the bureau in my room. Gotta pay the mouse for lugging this stuff across town.”

Skippy blew a raspberry at her and ran up the stairs.

“Your tongue is never gonna go back in your mouth if you keep doing that!” Slappy yelled.

Funny how the Squirrels were his best neighbors, even though they lived on the opposite side of town. They’d helped out so much when Pinky and Papa first moved into the countryside cottage, from showing them all the best places to buy from and all the best trees to climb. Everyone else usually stared at them strangely for not knowing how to find a shop and moved on with their day.

Still, Pinky didn’t want to impose on them or anything. Collecting the acorns was no trouble at all. And he knew money could be a little tight in the village at times.

“You don’t have to pay me,” Pinky said. “Poit. I don’t mind the morning exercise.”

“You’re walkin’ outta here with those coins whether you like it or not,” Slappy said in a tone that invited no room for argument. “Don’t be one of ‘em honor before reason types. That sorta mindset is nothing but trouble.”

Slappy’s long tail flicked in irritation, accidentally knocking a framed painting askew on the wall next to her. She sighed and fixed the crooked painting so that it hung straight. “Can never keep this darn thing straight,’ she muttered.

Pinky had been inside the hollow tree many times, but he’d never seen this painting before. It contained a colorful cast of characters, from a carrot-munching gray rabbit to a crazy black duck to a short gunslinger with an enormous bright red mustache.

In the painting, a youthful Slappy with a manic grin on her face and giant firecracker in her hand was chasing a bald hunter. Her smile was brighter, and her eyes didn’t seem so world-weary there.

“Like it? Old pals sent it to me two weeks ago,” Slappy asked, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The Looney Tunes Troupe were a rascally bunch, that’s for sure. All the money for a detailed painting, and they can’t afford a better frame. Our shows were legendary back in the day, you know.”

“Never heard of them,” Pinky admitted.

“Course ya haven’t,” Slappy sighed. “Your generation doesn’t know good comedy when it hits them in the bum with a mallet. Troupe’s faded into obscurity now, but they’ve never stopped traveling and being annoying yet lovable nuisances to everyone from Albuquerque to Kalamazoo to Timbuktu.”

Pinky tilted his head. “But you don’t travel anymore.”

If the Squirrels needed something they couldn’t get in ACME Village, they usually asked Pinky to run the errand for them.

“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Slappy said. “Sometimes you’re a nomad with total freedom and other times you gotta flee with your nephew to a different country.”

Before Pinky could ask more questions, Skippy barreled downstairs with as many coins as he could carry. “I didn’t know how much to grab so I just took a handful,” Skippy said, dumping the currency onto a small side table.

Slappy picked up six coins from the pile and dropped them into a small drawstring bag, then tightened the strings and tossed the bag into Pinky’s wagon. “You can have these. I’ve got plenty more lying around,” she said.

“If you're sure then,” Pinky said, picking up his wagon handle and turning it around. “Love to stay, but Papa’s leaving for the fair soon and I gotta see him off!”

“Tell him we said hi!” Skippy shouted, and Pinky saluted back.

Slappy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “And I’m hitting the hay again. It’s too damn early, and I’m too tired to censor my swearing in front of kids.”

o-o-o-o-o

After his visit to Slappy’s tree, Pinky decided to kill some time at ACME Village’s fountain, where he could enjoy the fine spray of water and run in circles along the stone rim. It was always fun seeing how fast he could go without tipping into the water.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he accidentally trod over freshly washed sheets that a woman had been folding next to the fountain. She made an indignant noise and carried her basket of laundry away, nose high in the air.

And the whispers started up again.

“That mouse may be a beauty, but he is way too peculiar for his own good.”

“You have to wonder if he’s feeling well.”

“Always a dreamy, far-off look on his face.”

On his tenth lap around the fountain, a flock of sheep strolled by, guided by a young shepherd from behind. Two fluffy ewes jumped onto the fountain rim next to Pinky and drank the water. Pinky smiled and stroked their soft wool, and the ewes bleated in contentment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Pinky whispered into their ears. “Don’t go blabbing this to anyone now...but I believe Papa’s a shoo-in for that blue ribbon!”

One of the ewes turned and nibbled on his ear, and Pinky laughed as her blocky teeth tugged and tickled his fur. He gently pried her jaw open and his ear popped out of her mouth, dripping wet with sheep saliva.

As Pinky prepared to slide off the fountain rim and onto the small bag of money he’d gotten from Slappy, a regal fanfare went off in the distance, thundering hoofbeats growing ever closer.

A messenger in a white powdered wig blew his coronet and cleared his throat.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE! MAKE WAY FOR HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, PRINCE SNOWBALL AND HIS HUNTING PARTY!”

The messenger’s declaration sent every man, woman, and child running towards the plaza, gathering in front of the entrance of the local tavern, the centerpoint of all social activities in ACME Village.

The hunting party rode in on their enormous horses, spearheaded by the ruler of the province, Prince Snowball. Though only a small hamster, he was famed by all for his keen mind and ability to get results on whatever he set out to accomplish.

Though dressed in only a simple red shirt and breeches for hunting, the only signs of his higher status being the golden crown upon his head and the expensive black horse he rode, his presence commanded respect and awe.

Behind him, a hunting party consisting of the best huntsmen and archers in the land dragged an enormous buck, two wild boars, and several pheasants into view.

“People of ACME Village, tonight we shall dine on these fine specimens of the animal kingdom!” Snowball announced as everyone bowed in fear of a noble’s anger. “Everyone’s presence is required, for I have a further declaration that shall lift this derelict province out of the ashes and into a glorious future!”

His pink eyes were sharp, but beneath that layer of intelligence, there was an undertone of something that didn’t feel right. Pinky couldn’t explain it, but he always just had this odd, icky feeling that crawled up his spine whenever he saw Snowball.

The crowd straightened up, cheering and clapping and praising Prince Snowball’s name for bringing them such good fortune with the promise of more to come.

Pinky’s ear twitched. There was a soft, desperate sound mixed in with the roars of the captivated audience.

And to the left side of the crowd, there was a tiny lamb whose back leg was tangled in a large fishing net. The mother ewe was both nuzzling the lamb in comfort and trying to pull the net off with her teeth, but to no avail.

The shepherd never noticed his sheep were in trouble, too caught up in hailing Prince Snowball to notice one of his charges was stuck.

Pinky hopped off the fountain and slowly walked over to the thrashing lamb and his mother, putting his hands up to show them he wasn’t a threat. The lamb bleated in panic, and the mother eyed Pinky warily.

“May I help? I’m good at untangling stuff,” Pinky asked. He’d gotten a lot of practice when Papa occasionally tangled himself up in threads and wires.

The ewe regarded him for a long moment, then nuzzled the back of her lamb’s head, letting him bury his head into her wool. The lamb’s trembling stopped, his back leg still.

It was a sweet gesture, one that seemed so familiar to him, even though his own mother had long passed. He remembered that feeling of warmth and safety from so long ago, the last time he felt like he was truly home.

Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Pinky untangled the mesh from the lamb’s leg, starting from the top and slowly moving down to the hoof.

“There you go, baby,” Pinky said once the leg was completely free. The lamb pulled his hoof out of the netting, gave it a good shake, then joyfully pranced and bleated around his mother and Pinky.

The mother gave Pinky a tiny nod, bleated to her little one, and together they rejoined their flock. The shepherd was still ignoring his flock in favor of Prince Snowball. Pinky couldn’t see him anymore from the ground.

Pinky picked up his wagon handle, ready to go home and help Papa hitch everything up to Pharfignewton.

Then he felt a pair of fingers pluck the feather he’d lovingly tucked behind his ear. Pinky turned to get his feather back, and jumped when Snowball was just inches from his face.

“Hello, Pinky,” Snowball said. He smiled, but it was more out of smugness than a real smile.

Pinky’s ears lowered, but then he remembered his manners. “Bonjour, Prince Snowball. May I have my feather please? A really nice bird gave that to me.”

Snowball frowned, holding the feather out of Pinky’s reach. The feather crinkled in his tight grip. “How could you possibly need this? It’s hardly good quality for even the cheapest quills.”

“Poit. It doesn’t need to be a quill to make me happy,” Pinky replied.

Snowball rolled his eyes, tossing the feather behind him. Pinky tried to grab it, but it was caught on a gust of wind and drifted to the ground. It landed in a mud puddle, soaking the barbs of the feather and staining it brown.

“Pinky, get your head out of the clouds and pay attention to important matters,” Snowball’s lip curled as he blocked Pinky from retrieving his feather. “Such as showing royals courtesy when they address a peasant like you.”

“Excuse me, Snowball,” Pinky said politely, going around the hamster to pick up his feather. The damage didn’t look too bad. Still, he tried to be careful when he cleaned it with his apron.

Snowball crossed his arms, and the town’s whispers started up again.

How dare he not show proper respect to Snowball, does he fancy himself higher than a prince, why would Snowball pay him any individual attention and not someone more deserving.

“That’s Prince Snowball to you.” Snowball’s fur bristled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and put his arms around Pinky’s shoulders instead. “The whole town's talking about you and your lack of...purpose. And we can’t have that, you realize. After all, a machine requires all of its cogs and gears to run smoothly, otherwise it won’t work.”

“Bet his crackpot father would know something about that!” one of Snowball’s men chortled.

Everyone laughed, even Snowball, who rarely did so. An unfamiliar feeling boiled in Pinky’s stomach.

“Don’t talk about my father that way!” Pinky snapped. His inventions were amazing and he was going to do well at the fair! They didn’t know how hard Papa worked on his inventions!

Snowball glared at his men. “Yes, don’t talk about his father that way, you fools!” he hissed like Pinky hadn’t heard him laughing just seconds ago.

“He’s not a crackpot! His invention’s gonna win the blue ribbon cause it was made with smarts and love, you’ll see!” Pinky declared, just as an explosion went off in the distance.

And he knew exactly where that explosion had come from.

“I have to go. Goodbye!” Pinky dragged his wagon behind him, setting off for the cottage he and Papa called home.

“It’s a pity and a sin,

He doesn’t quite fit in.

He really is a funny mouse,

A beauty but a funny mouse,

He really is a funny mouse,

THAT PIN-”

The sharp, high-pitched crack of a rifle interrupted the village’s song, and everyone ran for cover.

“WILL YA SHUT UP? SOME OF US ARE TRYIN’ TA SLEEP!” Slappy shouted from her tree, her screech blowing tiles and lumber from the roofs of buildings.

Just a provincial life in this little town. Pinky ran across the cobblestone bridge, wondering if he truly had the right to ask for something more than that.

o-o-o-o-o

He hurried over to the cellar, where smoke trailed from the gaps of the heavy wooden doors. Pinky opened the entrance, and a smoky cloud blew right in his face. He coughed and waved it away, hiding his nose in his dress as he hurried over to Papa, who’d been thrown onto his back. A pile of broken wooden planks covered him.

In the corner, Madeleine sputtered, her gears and dials spinning wildly before she finally quieted down, one loose spring sending a gear crashing into a wall.

“Dagnabbit, Madeleine!” Papa cursed, stumbling as he extracted himself from the pile of wooden planks. Pinky grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, checking him over for any injuries. Luckily, there were no bruises or splinters to be found. “Don’t you stall out on me now!”

Pinky smiled. Papa’s string of random gibberish and mutterings of smart inventor words he couldn’t understand was something he’d been familiar with from a young age. No matter where they lived, it was just one of those things that came with home.

Papa huffed, untying his apron with all his tools and tossing it to the ground. “She’ll never work in time for the fair! What was I thinking?” he lamented. “It’s not too late. Maybe I can cobble something else together quickly! Yes, I’ll just take the doowhatzit out of Madeleine, combine it with the kaleidomajiggy from the old washer, and-”

“You always say that, Papa,” Pinky said, hugging his father around the shoulders. Papa rested his hands over Pinky’s with a sigh. “Don’t worry. I believe Madeleine will work, and she’ll win you that blue ribbon and help you become an inventor for the history books! Narf! Just like Benjamin Franklin, ‘cept without all the kite-flying.”

“You really think so?” Papa asked, his frown turning to a hopeful smile.

“Course I do,” Pinky grinned.

A determined look crossed Papa’s face, and he tied his apron around his waist, nearly tripping over it in the process.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s fix ‘er up!” Papa said, laying down on a flat, low cart and pushing himself under the broken stove that made up Madeleine’s main body. “So how was your morning in town?”

“A little birdie gave me a feather. I found a pretty stone by the pond. And I delivered the acorns to the Squirrels. Did you know Slappy used to be a part of a traveling troupe? I didn’t.” Pinky recanted his morning to Papa as tools clinked and scratched against metal. “Oh, and I guess you’ll be missing Prince Snowball’s feast tonight. They’ll have venison and wild boar there.”

“A feast? That sounds nice. Much better than inn food,” Papa mused. As usual, only part of what Pinky said ever registered with him. “Are you going?”

“I don’t know yet,” Pinky admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party...but Prince Snowball is-um, what’s a good word for him?”

“Rich? Smart? Confident?” Papa suggested. “He’s been talkin’ to you a lot lately.”

So everyone’s noticed, even Papa who spent much of his time in the cellar that doubled as a workshop.

“He has,” Pinky agreed. “And he says he can give me a purpose. But...I don’t know. I don’t think he’s right for me. Maybe I’m just as odd as they say I am.”

It was the same everywhere they settled. No matter what Pinky tried to do, the whispers always followed him. He noticed strange things, he wore strange clothes, he and Papa were always strangers in towns where everyone knew each other from birth.

Papa slid out from under Madeleine, wearing a silly helmet on his head that gave him huge, bug-like eyes.

“My son is odd?” Papa asked in disbelief, and Pinky laughed. The helmet always made Papa look silly. “Don’t know where these folks get their ideas from…anyway, I think Madeleine’s all ready to go. Care to give her a whirl?”

“Zort! Am I!” Pinky clapped his hands together. Papa pointed to a lever, which Pinky pulled with all his might.

Madeleine’s bells and whistles sounded, water steadily pumping through her system while steam filled her stove. Pulleys and gears turned along her sides, reaching the front. Her dials quivered until they reached the red zone, and the ax at her front swung down, scoring a deep cut in a block of firewood. The ax swung faster and faster, until one final split the firewood in half and sent one chunk flying.

Pinky and Papa ducked, and the chunk flew over their heads and landed perfectly on a pile of firewood against the wall.

“She works!” Pinky shouted in joy, kissing one of Madeleine’s wooden wheels. “You did it, Papa!”

“I did?” Papa murmured. “I did! 265th time’s the charm, Pinky! Look out fair, I’m on my way!”

o-o-o-o-o

Within the hour, Madeleine was wheeled out from the workshop, covered and tied up with a tarp, and hitched to Pharfignewton.

“Bye, Fig,” Pinky said, hugging his beloved horse’s muzzle. “Keep Papa on track to the fair, okay? You know how he likes taking shortcuts.”

Pharfignewton whinnied gently, planting a sloppy kiss on top of Pinky’s head.

Then Pinky embraced Papa, who returned the hug with the same enthusiasm. And he was reminded of how the mouse and horse he considered his home would be leaving for some time. He wished he could go with them, but someone had to keep house and he was the best one for the job. It wouldn’t be for long, but he’d miss them all the same.

A stray tear dropped. Just another reason he was considered odd. He cried so easily.

“Chin up, Pinky,” Papa murmured, rubbing a soothing circle into Pinky’s back. “I’ll win that blue ribbon along with the prize money, and we’ll begin our lives anew within the week.”

Through his tears, Pinky gave him a wobbly smile. Then he helped Papa onto Pharfignewton’s back.

“Take care!” Pinky called as Papa flicked the reins, and Pharfignewton trotted off at a steady pace, dragging Madeleine behind her. He watched them from atop the highest hill in the meadow, as they went further down the well-worn trail that merchants used for their travels.

Then they were nothing but specks in the distance, swallowed by the thick, twisted branches of the forest. It was an unusual forest, one where the trees lost their leaves in early autumn, making the trees look scarier than they actually were for half the year.

With nothing else to do outside, Pinky went back into the empty cottage. He’d had three years to become familiar with this house, full of odds and ends from Papa’s inventions alongside their meager belongings.

Mama’s cloak hung from a place of honor on a coat rack by the door, one of the few belongings Pinky could take along no matter where they lived.

Hours passed, and Pinky already missed the banging and exploding and sputtering of Papa’s inventions. It was just too quiet without them.

He cleaned the red feather and pretty stone, then added them to his collection. Feathers and rocks didn’t take up a lot of room, and like Mama’s cloak, they could easily be taken to new places as well. He was just very careful not to lose them.

The wagon was tucked away by the door, and the small bag of money was tucked inside a flower pot. It was how Papa always stored money, and Pinky had picked up the habit.

There wasn’t much to do. He’d cleaned the cottage several days ago, cellar notwithstanding. That was Papa’s territory, and he always had trouble finding tools when Pinky put them away.

Suppertime approached.

He could either cook dinner or go to the feast.

Didn’t matter what he chose. He would be lonely either way.

A sharp rap on the door startled him out of his thoughts. How strange. People only knocked at this time when there was an emergency.

“Sorry for taking so long. I wasn’t expecting-” Pinky opened the door, and he immediately stood face-to-face with Prince Snowball. They were so close that their noses nearly touched. “-to see you here, Snowball. Um, this is a surprise. Poit.”

Snowball’s pink eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Pinky remembered that Snowball preferred to be addressed with his full title. “Yes, it’s not often that someone of my standing chooses to grace a peasant’s home with their presence.”

Behind Snowball, there was an entourage of townsfolk. Many wore their Sunday best, which was still quite cheap compared to the royal finery that Snowball bore. A fine red coat, a decorative golden cape slung over one shoulder, and white dress pants. A shiny crown embedded with rubies and emeralds sat atop his head.

“I thought you were all at the tavern for the feast,” Pinky admitted.

Snowball laughed, but it was a joyless laugh. He stepped across the threshold without being invited in.

“Why, Pinky. Your hovel is positively primeval,” Snowball said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. He tugged Mama’s cloak off its hook, stared at it for a moment, then carelessly tossed it behind him. “If this is how you live, then it’s a truly auspicious time for me to come and offer you an opportunity out of this squalor.”

Before Pinky could ask what auspicious was, though he figured it had something to do with Austria, Snowball harshly dug his fingers into Pinky’s shoulders. Pinky tried to pry them off, but the fingers just burrowed further into the fabric of his dress.

“Not to worry, dear Pinky,” Snowball said. “Today is the day all your dreams come true.”

“You mean my dream to find a home and a porpoise? Because I don’t know if we have enough money to live by the ocean. Beachside properties get very pricey, you know,” Pinky asked.

Snowball waved off that concern. “You forget that finances are of no consequence for me. But I digress. For now, allow me to plant the image of a wonderful future in your vacant mind.”

“Okay, but I don’t know how you’re gonna water it,” Pinky said.

“Picture this,” Snowball demanded, leading Pinky around the cottage. “A magnificent castle. Two golden thrones, mine higher than the queen’s of course. A few summer homes to expand my sphere of influence. A court of other royals, lesser nobles, while the servants do all the menial work around the fires and kitchen. We’ll have...oh, six or seven.”

“Servants?” Pinky grinned nervously as Snowball leaned in with a chuckle.

“Castles, Pinky. How else would I showcase my power?” Snowball corrected. “And the townsfolk shall become our servants. It will save me the trouble of setting up a hiring process anyway. Besides, you’d appreciate having familiar faces around. Less of an adjustment period.”

Pinky freed himself from Snowball’s grip. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Snowball shrugged. “But in simplest terms, I require a queen. One who is good at smiling, waving, and entertainment.”

Wouldn’t that person become a princess rather than a queen though?

Snowball must’ve seen the question coming. He paused in front of the mirror to adjust his crown.

“There is but one title higher than a prince, Pinky,” Snowball said once he was finished. “In order to qualify for the kingship, it’s required of me to marry first. And do you know who that queen will be?”

“Elizabeth? Victoria?” Pinky wilted under Snowball’s intense stare. “Um...Cleopatra, final answer?”

Snowball shook his head. “It will be you, Pinky.”

A queen? He’d always just been the inventor’s son. An outcast no matter where he lived. How could he possibly be a queen?

“That’s a very generous offer, Snowball,” Pinky said, once he finally found his words again.

“Isn’t it, though?” Snowball said smugly. “You and your father will live in an extravagant new home as you perform your queenly duties, and I will be forever hailed as King Snowball. Both of us shall benefit.”

Maybe he and Papa could live in better conditions. Maybe they didn’t have to move around anymore. Maybe they could afford shoes for Pharfignewton. But at the same time…it wouldn’t be right.

It wouldn’t be home.

Smiling, waving, entertaining. Was that all he was good for? Was that all Snowball thought he could do?

“I thought...marriage was for love,” Pinky said softly. “That’s what Papa always said.”

Snowball rolled his eyes. “It’s a political marriage. It doesn’t have to be built on love.”

Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

It was one of the earliest morals Pinky had learned.

Wish for a home, only for it to be a castle. Wish for a purpose, and it’s to be married without love as a foundation.

“Snowball...I’m speechless,” Pinky said, backing out the front door. He nearly tripped over the welcome mat, but regained his footing. “I...I really don’t know what to say.”

Not even a narf would help him out of this situation.

“Say that you’ll marry me, Pinky,” Snowball replied, and he stalked toward Pinky like a cunning predator, backing him against the edge of the porch. “And after you say yes, I will announce our engagement to the rest of ACME Village at the feast. Attendance is mandatory for a reason.”

“I’m really, really sorry, Snowball,” Pinky said. He’d backed up too far, and the heels of his feet dangled precariously over the edge. Instincts kicking in, Pinky grabbed Snowball’s shoulder to pull himself to safety, though he underestimated his strength. Snowball yelped as he was pulled over the edge, falling into the mud puddle by the staircase.

Oops.

“Sorry, Snowball! But I just don’t deserve you,” Pinky admitted.

The mud-covered crown slipped around Snowball’s head, covering his eyes until he took it off with an annoyed grunt.

Pinky slipped back into the house, grabbed a small towel, and handed it to one of Snowball’s men.

Claude, if he remembered right.

“He can have that one,” Pinky told Claude, who gingerly took the towel like it was a fragile item.

Snowball crawled out of the mud, his royal clothing covered in gunk and sticks. He stomped out of the mud, hands clenching against his sides.

Snowball’s brow lowered, his pink eyes hidden in humiliation and a quiet, seething fury.

Slowly, Pinky retreated into the cottage and hid behind the door. There was something about that look that terrified him. And it wasn’t the fun kind of fear, either.

“You will consider my offer, Pinky. Make no mistake about that,” Snowball spat, his scrutinizing gaze directly on Pinky, despite the door between them. “Claude, quit being daft and hand me that towel already!”

Pinky waited in the cottage until he could no longer hear their voices or footsteps. They must’ve gone back to the tavern for the feast.

He didn’t feel hungry though. Snowball’s proposal left a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d just sucked on a lemon.

“He asked me to marry him,” Pinky said to his mother’s cloak, which was still crumpled on the floor. He gently picked it up, brushed off the wrinkles, and put it on. The fabric was warm against his back, like being wrapped in a ginormous embrace. “But he doesn’t love me. Narf! You can’t have a marriage without love!”

He thought of all the married couples he knew in ACME Village. The baker couple, who were constantly at each other’s throats. Gerard the butcher was always making googly eyes at any woman who bought cuts of meat, much to his wife’s frustration. There was the stressed lady who had to drag her six kids around town while her husband played cards and darts at the tavern.

And Pinky thought of his parents. His mother had fallen in love with his father’s inventive streak when she was the daughter of a town official and Papa was just the crazy mouse whose inventions blew up a lot.

He tied the cloak tighter around himself. Unable to take the silence of the cottage and the stifling influence of the village much longer, he allowed his feet to carry him out of the cottage and to wherever they wanted to go.

He sprinted into the unknown. He wouldn’t be afraid of whatever he found there. The autumn wind blew golden, red, and brown leaves in whichever direction it wished as Pinky climbed the highest hill in the gorgeous flower-filled meadow.

The peak of the hill was his favorite spot, and he was surprised that nobody else came out here to enjoy the view with him. Trees lost their colorful leaves so they could sleep for the winter, the river splashed and babbled along its banks, and proud mountains with mysterious cloud-covered peaks rose high above the landscape.

What laid beyond villages and towns, he didn’t know.

There was something in that great wide somewhere for him. Just a feeling, an inkling, a hunch.

But could he truly go exploring it when his home was here?

Maybe he could convince Papa. Somehow. When Papa came back with the prize money, they could fit Pharfignewton with her shoes and they could all explore together!

Staring into the autumn landscape, Pinky sank to his knees, careful not to squish the daisies and dandelions around him.

Maybe that was home, but…

He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. Would he ever figure that out?

He loved Papa, but he couldn’t really talk to him. And Slappy had her hands full with such an energetic nephew. Pinky didn’t want to impose. Everyone in the village gossiped about him, like he couldn’t understand.

But he did.

And it hurt.

“Would be nice to talk to someone. Anyone, really,” he whispered, and he blew on a cluster of dandelion puffs. His wish scattered along the wind.

Pinky picked up more dandelion puffs. If he blew more around, maybe his wish would come true. And dandelion flowers were very pretty.

Maybe they were considered weeds, but how could anyone call such a sunshine-y yellow flower a pest? He didn’t get it.

Then a distant, familiar neigh caught him off-guard.

Pinky thumped his hand against his ear. Maybe he was missing Pharfignewton so much that he heard her voice?

But he’d recognize her magnificent white coat and spirited blue eyes anywhere.

“Easy, Pharfignewton! It’s okay!” Pinky cried. He scrambled up Pharfignewton’s leg, avoided her flailing hoof, and held onto her muzzle as she bucked and reared in sheer panic. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay…”

Pharfignewton quieted down, her frantic neighs melting into soft, worried nickers as Pinky stroked her nose. She stopped kicking, though she was wide-eyed with fear.

Madeleine wasn’t hitched to Pharfignewton. Nor was she wasn’t the only one missing…

And Pinky suddenly understood his horse’s panic.

“Pharfignewton, where’s Papa?” Pinky asked. “Is he okay? How did you get separated? Did he try another shortcut when I told him not to do it?”

Pharfignewton’s hooves shuffled, and Pinky forced himself to take a deep breath. He was scaring her with all these questions, so he nuzzled her between the eyes in apology. Still, his heart raced with panic.

From the top of the hill, he saw thick, gray clouds rolling in from the mountains. The temperature was dropping fast.

An early winter would be upon them. They had to find Papa quickly.

“Please, Pharfignewton. We’ve gotta find him,” Pinky pleaded.

She whinnied in agreement, and galloped into the strange forest with all its dangerous, twisted branches before Pinky had a chance to settle in his usual spot at the base of her neck.

Don’t worry, Papa. I’m on my way.

End AN: Well, this is beast is complete (no pun intended).

Yeah, poor Pinky’s usual charm doesn’t really work here. Poor mouse.

Slappy is fun to write, not gonna lie. Love her cartoony antics. She’s also led quite the interesting life in this AU.

The reason Snowball didn’t show up sooner was because I wasn’t sure how to tweak the proposal scene to fit. Cause for one thing, Snowball is way smarter than Gaston, but just as arrogant to boot. So I changed Snowball’s motivation into marrying Pinky because it will help him gain a higher title than a prince. He doesn’t actually love Pinky in this AU, but he’s very annoyed at him for that stunt with the mud puddle (though it’s accidental on Pinky’s part rather than intentional like Belle’s).

The reason Snowball doesn’t go seeking a princess’s hand to gain the kingship is cause he tried that already. It was Billie of a nearby kingdom. It didn’t go well.

Also yes the village is named ACME Village because I’m lazy and can’t come up with anything better.

#pinky and the brain #patb snowball #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

amateurasstrologer · 5 years ago

Text

THE PLANETS #3 MERCURY (IN THE HOUSES)

Sweet Mercury. Our baby celestial, dying to be understood. There’s more to little Mercury than meets the eye, so listen up.

If you take only one thing away from this shit, let it be this: Mercury represents an internal process - where Mercury falls points towards where you’re using your brain. Bullshit Astrology will try to convince you that Mercury shows how you communicate and how you express yourself. Yes, but also no. Don’t succumb to this basic ass understanding, people!! Mercury is deeper than this - literally. Mercury gathers up the goods and sets up shop inside your mf brain. Yes, communication and your ability to small talk stem from your thought process, but all that shit is secondary. Stick to the primary source you little history babies.

The best way to think about Mercury is to think about Venus. These two are peas in a damn pod. Why? They’re both judgemental. But. While Venus is your typical mean girl, Mercury just sticks to the fucking facts.

For example, take this given: the sky is blue. Mercury looks at the situation and says: okay, the sky is blue, the sky is not green. Venus looks at the sky and says: I love the color blue, green is fucking ugly good thing the sky isn’t green. They’re both making a judgement call, but Mercury’s call is a purely objective understanding, and Venus’s is based on a personal preference. Mercury sits in your brain and helps you differentiate between this and that; Venus sits wherever tf she sits and helps you respond emotionally to shit that you value.

Put another way: why does Mercury rule Gemini and Virgo? Judgement calls. Gemini is all about you discovering yourself. The Mercury influence there helps you differentiate between “you” and “not you” - Gemini goes out and does all these things to figure out who it even is and Mercury is behind the curtain going, “yes, you hit on something real there,” and “no, that wasn’t really you bitch, drop the act.” Same shit is happening with Virgo. Virgo is all about self-improvement - we need Mercury behind the scenes, making the “yes, this will move us forward” or “no, this will set us back” decision or else we aren’t improving shit. A Mercury judgement is objective - it takes in all the facts and makes a call. It’s not personal, it’s all business.

Mercury represents how we understand the world, mentally. Mercury is the sweet little computer in our brain that’s taking stock and running metrics and not giving a fuck because there are no feelings involved in Mercury’s process. Mercury is black and white, yes and no, this and that. No in-between. The only time Mercury goes from “right on” to “completely wrong,” is when it trades in objective analysis for personal taste. Stop. Leave the feelings to Venus. Mercury works best when it’s calm, cool and collected.

As always, particulars for the party people:

MERCURY IN THE FIRST (1) YES: these sweet freaks are unleashing the beast on their inner life - every thing that has ever happened to them getting analyzed to the point of no return; they believe they’re different than everyone else and they are gonna prove it. NO: one day decided all facts were irrelevant and took up permanent residence inside their own mind, made it their job to feel intellectually superior to everyone else.

MERCURY IN THE SECOND (2) YES: these sweet freaks are testing out every belief system and mental approach ever used to solve a problem, choosing the most effective ones, and thinking their way through every challenge they come into contact with without even breaking a sweat. NO: fucking rude, totally intolerant of everyone around them, deep-throating Traditional Thinking & Outdated Values’ dick for no reason - get over it.

MERCURY IN THE THIRD (3) YES: these sweet freaks are seeing straight though your shit, because they can find patterns in everything. When they’re not fixing every problem in their vicinity with practical solutions they’re adjusting to their environment like a damn chameleon good Lord where are they are they even still here? NO: using their mega-rationality to justify gross behavior, taking zero responsibility for their actions, denial level 10000.

MERCURY IN THE FOURTH (4) YES: these sweet freaks are getting in touch with their values, and once they do look out because they will not deviate from what they feel is Right. These deep, creative minds are hot-wired to find connections between all people, places and things. NO: too scared to figure it out, falling back on thinking that’s culturally/ socially/ religiously narrow-minded, RIP to their sense of self.

MERCURY IN THE FIFTH (5) YES: these sweet freaks are getting their fucking feelings out and everyone is loving it. Their sweet little brains are made to create and they are ready to relate, no one can express themselves like these bitches. It’s just the truth. NO: can’t just have a regular fucking experience because they’re too busy thinking about how they’re gonna sell that shit later, overly self-conscious, stop it you’re doing way too much.

MERCURY IN THE SIXTH (6) YES: these sweet freaks are a whole new kinda leader - their brains are totally focused on dealing with personal changes and social issues, crystal clear thinking let’s these babies soar through emotional shit with clarity and an organized plan. NO: True Life: Living Without A Backbone, self-sabotage level 10000, lacking the inner-strength to look at their shit objectively - get it together dammit you should be fixing the world.

MERCURY IN THE SEVENTH (7) YES: these sweet freaks just have a really strong mental approach to life, they’re lookin at all kinds of shit without getting in their feelings about it, they’re out here chatting it up, down to participate in life and always open to learning from other people’s experiences. NO: took it way too far, fucked around and isolated themselves in a sweet mind prison, one day decided different viewpoints were useless and totally lost sight of reality.

MERCURY IN THE EIGHTH (8) YES: these sweet freaks fucking love relationships (of any kind, don’t have to be human-to-human) - their brains are locked in on seeing past surface level shit and into the core of their connections, working through relationship issues is their favorite pastime. NO: one day decided you weren’t trying to cooperate with them and got fucking ruthless on your ass and/or completely lack the sense of self to apply their resolution abilities, let everything go to shit, then blamed you for it.

MERCURY IN THE NINTH (9) YES: these sweet freaks worship clear thinking and objectivity, they’re fucking ready to plan and discuss their goals, your goals - all the goals all of the plans all of the values - these bitches are going to write about them, sing about them, whatever. It’s going to be real and it’s going to be good. NO: the most closed-minded to ever live, picked the wrong hill to die on, bleeding out over some shit they don’t even understand, lost in the sauce.

MERCURY IN THE TENTH (10) YES: these sweet freaks can focus (I mean, for real, they will not be deterred) and focus they will on solving complex social problems and adjusting to meet the intellectual needs of their crew. These babies are quick as a whip and got serious intellectual versatility. NO: second-guessing every decision they’ve ever made, zero accountability for their social position, completely emotionally repressed mess.

MERCURY IN THE ELEVENTH (11) YES: these sweet freaks got intellect and they are not afraid to use it (to work through all kinds of cultural issues), on the look out for other smarties to check out all those beautiful, imaginary-but-hopefully-not-for-long horizons and ponder progressive ideals with. NO: never focused a day in their life, acting clever laughing everything off but actually dying inside and refusing to do anything about it.

MERCURY IN THE TWELFTH (12) YES: these sweet freaks are flipping the script and revamping every outdated collective ideal that crosses their mind - a healthy level of seclusion let’s these babies speculate way out into the future, so that they can formulate fresh social attitudes and actions. NO: Academy Award for Victim of Their Own Self-Created Loneliness, "what’s the use” oh my God shut up already and just try to change. Just try it.

Happy Charting, bitches. Unleash your brains.

XO BULLSHIT FREE ASTROLOGY

#mercury #mercury in the houses #astrology #mercury astrology #the fast and emotionless

1K notes · View notes

iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

Text

AU-gust Day 27: Flower Shop

Requested by @warmachinesocks for a Winteriron AU! Well, this took a left turn into Fantasyland but it is still a flower shop so I’m gonna count it

Also on ao3 here

“Tony, doll, can you grab three bundles of orchids from the greenhouse?” Bucky calls.

Tony gives him a cheeky salute and disappears through the back door. He comes back a moment later with three bundles of bright purple orchids and passes them off to Bucky, who starts working on the arrangement. The order isn’t terribly complicated, which he’s grateful for—after last week’s wedding fiasco (fucking mother of the bride), he’ll be happy if he never has to see another complicated order again.

“How’s it looking back there?” he asks, pretty certain that they’re running low on some of the annuals. They’ll need to purchase new seeds soon.

Tony shrugs. “We’ll need new zinnia and petunia seeds soon,” he says, leaning up on his toes to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “But everything else is looking good.”

“What about everything downstairs? If I’m running by the nursery this afternoon, we might as well make a double trip and swing by the apothecary.”

“I’m going to need more death cap mushrooms soon but that’s a trip to the forest, not the apothecary. I think I want to start a new plot of sage though so I’d like to get some of that. Oh! And I’m running low on incubus tongue and with Valentine’s Day coming—”

“Love potions are more in-demand than ever,” Bucky finishes. He’s been dating Tony long enough to know what potions are popular at what time of year.

“Attaboy,” Tony says with a wink. “When’s the next time we’re going over to Steve’s for dinner? I’ve got a client who needs a dragon scale for a protection spell and I think he said he was shedding a few weeks ago.”

“Tomorrow. He and Sharon are—”

The bell above the door chimes and they both chorus, “Welcome to Bluebells and Belladonnas!”

Angie, the little old witch who comes in every week to pick up roses for her wife, coos at them, “You two are so cute!”

“Not as cute as you, Mrs. Martinelli,” Bucky says, laying on the old Brooklyn charm. He uses it on most customers because it makes them buy more but for Angie, it only makes her chuckle and blush. “What can we get for you today?”

“A dozen roses,” she orders like always and passes them a tube of lipstick. Tony disappears into the greenhouse behind the shop again. “Here’s the color she’s wearing today.”

He makes small talk with the old woman, chatting about her granddaughter who’s seeing Steve and speculating about when they’re finally going to announce that they’re engaged. Tony comes back out a few moments later with a collection of white roses. He swipes the lipstick over them and, before their eyes, the color spreads across the flowers until all twelve are as deep a red as the lipstick itself.

Tony passes the flowers and the lipsticks back over to Angie as Bucky rings her up. “And how will you be paying today, Mrs. Martinelli?” he asks.

“With news,” she says, lowering her voice to a hush. Bucky and Tony glance at each other. Ravenspoint is a small town; news is worth its weight in gold. “They contacted Peggy first, that’s how we know before everyone else.”

“Know what?” Tony asks, leaning across the counter.

“The Starks have returned to the manor.”

Bucky doesn’t think that Angie notices Tony going stiff but he certainly does. Beneath the counter, he slips his hand under Tony’s shirt to rest on Tony’s hip, running his thumb back and forth soothingly.

“Rosewood’s been empty for decades,” he points out. “Since Stane’s death. Why are they back now?”

Angie shakes her head. “Maria didn’t say. But apparently, the wards wouldn’t let her and Howard back in when they tried to enter. That’s why they needed to see Peggy.”

“Peggy wouldn’t be able to lower the wards,” Tony says quietly, leaning further into Bucky’s hand.

“That’s what she told them. I guess they thought that as the head witch of the coven, she’d be able to override little Anthony’s spell.”

Tony flinches and Bucky looks down at him. Tony has never told him the full story of what happened the night Howard and Maria Stark fled Rosewood, leaving their only son and heir behind in the guardianship of the family butler but he’s heard enough pieces that he could probably guess. The storm of the century centered directly over the manor, a family friend much too interested in the immense amounts of power the young heir holds killed, and a father who couldn’t resist keeping his resentment over his child’s power to himself and a mother who never bothered to protect her son banished? Yeah, Bucky can most definitely figure it out. These days, no one knows that Tony of Bluebells and Belladonnas is Anthony Stark—besides the Jarvises, Peggy, and Bucky himself.

“Where did they go?” he asks, wondering if he needs to put up his own wards around the shop and their upstairs home tonight—or if they need to be leaving town for a few days.

“To the Jarvises,” Angie says. “Where else would they go? They’re the only ones who know where Anthony might be.”

Bucky and Tony share another look, both thinking the same thing: they need to call Edwin after Angie leaves to make sure word doesn’t get out about Tony’s whereabouts. They let Angie take her roses and leave and Tony immediately disappears into the downstairs greenhouse to call Jarvis and spend some time puttering with his potions. Bucky locks up the shop early, deciding that Tony’s distress is more important than the day’s sales. They don’t have any deliveries or orders today so he refuses to worry about any potential loss of profit. They make more than enough from both businesses anyway.

He goes back into the regular greenhouse for a few minutes to collect a small bouquet of flowers: gladioluses for strength, violets for peace, magenta zinnias for constancy and affection. Tony is working on what looks like a luck potion when he gets down there so Bucky waits until he’s done adding the crushed gardenia and has set the pot on a low simmer before he says, “What did Jarvis say?”

“To set up the wards,” Tony says. He’s not looking at him but he hasn’t sent him away either so Bucky feels confident coming up behind him to put the flowers in a vase and hug him close. He rests his chin on Tony’s shoulder.

“Anything else?”

“Maybe close the shop for a few days. I don’t want to do that though. We’ll lose out on too many customers.”

“So we’ll ask Steve and Sharon to come in.”

Tony snorts. “Over my dead body will we trust Steve with the greenhouse.”

“Sharon can handle those. Steve can handle the cash register. You know how many bouquets will sell with his ‘aw shucks’ routine?”

“…A lot,” Tony admits reluctantly.

“Exactly.” Bucky turns his head, pressing a kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw. Tony sighs. “Come on, doll. Our friends have been saying for ages that we need a vacation so let’s take one. We’ll get away from here, wait until it all blows over and your parents leave again, and then we’ll come back.”

Tony closes his eyes, swaying a little on the spot. Bucky knows he’s been stressed lately. The store had a couple rough months earlier this year and they’re still not making as much of a profit as either of them would like. Bucky’s been stressed over it too but Tony seems to take it personally.

“Come on,” he croons, mouthing behind Tony’s ear. “We’ll go up into the mountains, rent one of those cabins with the bear rugs you read about in those romance novels you think I don’t know about.”

“Bucky!” Tony hisses.

“Whaddya say?”

“…Yeah, okay.”

#winteriron #alle writes #august2020 #if you like please consider reblogging

123 notes · View notes

soyeahitsmiddleearth · 5 years ago

Text

May I?

Bard x Reader

Breasts are natures greatest built-in hand warmers, and somebody wants a turn.

Cringy summary warning.

Why must this god forsaken town always be so. Damn. Cold. The winter is bad enough, but even in the spring and fall it is usually much chillier than it has any business being.

It probably has to do with the high altitude and waters that surround your town, but even if it does make sense doesn't mean you have to like it.

You own a simple shop in the Laketown, you home since you were but a child, and in this shop you sell a small variety of different things.

Some of the things you vend include spices, sometimes baked goods, and individual ingredients like flour and butter as well. You're inventory is mostly kitchen goods. The payments you accept consist of more than just money, too. You barter your things in exchange for services and other goods that you need. For example, if someone comes in and they don't have enough, they offer a trade of your things for a service or something that they may sell depending on if they own a shop.

This is common practice here in Laketown.

For the most part, you gather your own ingredients for spices and concoct original blends for both sweet baked pastries and savory meats, and yo usually go out on weekly trips to collect more of the herbs, fruits, and other plants you need.

Your biggest problem in the beginning was finding a mode of travel out of the town, but that all changed after you met Bard.

Well, you actually met his children first. Tilda, Bain, and Sigrid. They were out getting the groceries when they came across your little home-stationed store. They were browsing around and you got caught in a pleasant conversation with Sigrid, and when you mentioned needing to find a boatman for hire to leave the next day, she positively lit up.

"My Da has a boat! He goes out of the town all the time, and I'm sure he'd be happy to take you."

Suffice to say you sent them home with a nice basket full of things from your store.

Later on in that same day their father entered your store and greeted you very nicely. He told you his name, Bard, and thanked you for all the things you gave his children.

At the time you laughed, "It was purely selfish, I'm afraid. Your daughter, Sigrid, informed me that you're a Bargeman."

And then you offered him a very generous price to take you across the lake each week, and, for some reason, he declined payment and agreed to do it all the same. This arrangement has been going on for quite a few months now, and it didn't remain strictly business for long.

Anyways, brining you back to your current problem with the cold.

You are seated just to the left of Bard on a small box, relaxing as he steers the two of you through the calm waters. Your fingers are freezing and stiff from reduced blood flow, and your nose feels as if it's about to fall off.

With a glance up at Bard you can tell the weather doesn't bother him quite as much, so you don't bother complaining and instead move to rummage through the covered basket you'd brought with you.

"The waters are rather calm, why don't you take a seat and come see what I've brought." You state suddenly, tilting your head up to look at him again.

His gaze flickers to you from the open waters ahead, then back, seemingly considering your suggestion. "As much as I'd love to see what spoils you've brought, I think it would be better if we land first." His eyes flicker to yours then back again, "You can wait 10 minutes, sweetling, can't you?"

A small, childish pout shows your displeasure, so nudges your knee with his foot to grab your attention. "Come on now, do not look at me like that." He says with a contagious smile. You can't help but to grin back.

"Fine. I'll be patient."

---

His promised time is rather accurate, you find, when not even 15 minutes later he's bringing the boat to shore and tying it down firmly.

Once he's done securing the vessel, he steps back in and settles into a crouching position in front of you. "Alright, now show me what you've got there."

Despite your stiff fingers you still manage to open up the basket rather quickly from excitement to present your items.

Inside the basket you stored a newly baked loaf of bread, various fruit pastries, some seasonings and spices, and, finally, some fancy butters and spreads you managed to snag from a woman the other day who traded you for a few things from your shop.

Once he registers all the things in the basket he looks up at you in shock. "I cannot possibly accept all of this!"

You narrow your eyes at his bafflement and reach over to pinch his cheek. "Well, you don't let me pay you, and I know that your children love my baking. If you refuse to accept my gift then I will only bring it by your house later on."

Reluctantly you release his cheek, his face is much warmer than your own and it feels nice on your frozen fingertips, and smooth your hands down your skirt to flatten out the waves.

"The warmth you provide my bed at night is appreciation enough, but if you still think you're lacking then by all means come and show me how thankful you are again." He tells you slyly, a smirk on his face as he wraps one of his arms around your waist.

Your face heats up at the very clear implications behind his words, though it's true, and playfully smack his arm. "You absolute scoundrel! You're corrupting me, I swear."

He laughs good-naturedly and releases you, moving to sit with his back leaning against the side of his ship.

The basket creaks as he lifts it up and places it on his lap, it seems he's no longer rejecting your gift, to look through the assortment of pastries and condiments you gave him.

While he sorts through your basket you look down at your hands and flex your fingers to try and increase the blood flow, frustrated at how the cold almost burns you. The cold even seeped in through the thick material of your jacket, though to be fair to it's quality, you are wearing a rather thin blouse.

You open and close your fist a few times, then reach up and unbutton the first few buttons of your jacket. Then you shove your hands down your shirt and curl your frosty fingertips under your breasts and have your thumbs press against your palms.

The stark contrast in temperature of your hands versus your chest makes you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, but it doesn't last long so you look back over at Bard who is, now, looking at you with a weird look on his face.

His gaze drops to where you've situated your hands, and you glance down as well.

"My hands are cold." You say shyly, returning your attention back to his face.

He raises an eyebrow at you in questioning, but doesn't verbally respond.

"Oh come on, I'm not trying to seduce you by warming up my fingers. It's warm in here and I am not ashamed of my nature-given hand warmers." You grumble, still quite embarrassed despite your words insisting otherwise.

Bard moves the basket to rest on the ground again and scoots forward, "If you're so cold then allow me to warm you up." He suggests mischievously, clearly teasing you.

"No thank you, I'm quite content with what I've got here." You reply, lifting your hands a bit to jostle your shirt.

"If it's as warm as you say, then I would like a try." Comes his arbitrary request.

Your face heats up at the nonchalant way he says this, and while the warmth is nice, you're still quite flustered. "You would l-like a try?" You stutter out, watching that devilishly handsome smirk appear on his face.

"That's what I said."

Gosh, his confidence is sexy.

You drive that thought away quickly, slipping your hands out of your tucked in blouse and letting them drop to your lap.

His eyes follow the movement of your hands, then looks at your face again expectantly.

"Fine. But if you pull anything I will take that basket and tell your children not to allow you to have even a crumb." Your threats only make him chuckle, and you can't help but to smile in return.

He wraps his hands around your waist and tugs your towards him, turning you so your back presses against his chest and you're seated between his legs.

First, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and crosses his wrists, simply messing with the fabric of your blouse for a few moments.

You grasp the bodice of your shirt and pull it forward, dipping your head down briefly to invite him in already. And he takes that invitation swiftly.

He pushes his hands into your shirt and you shift around at the temperature difference (though you were expecting it). His right hand rests on your left breast, and his left hand lays on the opposite.

Now, you'd never admit it verbally or anything, but you actually quite like it. The cold contrast of his palms pressing into your heated skin creates a whole new sensation you're not used to, and the strength you know those hands have only make the gentleness of his hold so much sweeter.

You bend your knees and press them against your blouse and hand clad chest, then lay your head back against his shoulder.

His own legs come up and bend at the knees much like your own, but he instead presses his knees into yours and presses you tighter against him while also moving his head down to nuzzle the junction between your neck and shoulder.

The moment is intimate, but in a way that isn't quite sexual despite the current location of his hands and the way he presses his nose against your neck.

The two of you sit just like that for who knows how long, and you love every second of it. Though eventually you simply have to ask, "Are you hands warm yet, my dear?"

He doesn't reply right away, and for a moment you wonder if he's fallen asleep, but a gentle squeeze of you bosom tells you that he is, in fact, very much awake.

"What did I say about funny business, Bard?" You scold, though the annoyance doesn't actually fill your voice.

His chest practically vibrates against your back as he laughs, and he presses a light kiss to your neck. "Forgive me, I have trouble controlling myself when such a wonderful woman is within my grasp."

Oh this man is a complete flatterer.

"I'll allow this infraction to pass, but one more slip up and you'll really be in for it." Once again the threat has no actual success in intimidating him, but that's alright.

"We should probably get to work, now."

#the hobbit #fluff #bard the bowman x reader #bard x reader #bard the bowman #bard #the hobbit fanfiction #romance #reader insert #reader #cringy summary but decent story

404 notes · View notes

facepalming-since-chernobyl · 3 years ago

Note

If you ever want to write a full account of your hospital stay, I'm so here for it. I want it all: the farts, the grannies, the fighting over windows, the other weirdos, why you want to murder the doctor and how your fam will help you get away with it, the works. Start writing while I grab the popcorn! 🍿

Ok, don’t remember what I have said here already, so I’ll give a full story plus some flashbacks from my childhood.

-I got 4 grannies in my room, the average age: 65+

-granny number one: ultra Catholic, made a cross on my forehead (I was so shocked, I didn’t say a shit, aside of screaming in my head – woman?! Covid restrictions?! Keep your distance?!), a farmer woman (one day she just said that when she wants a chicken soup, she goes outside, catches the chicken, chops the head and make a soup – the faces of the other grannies - PRICELESS), praying in weird moments, instead of sweat pants, wearing dress shirts and dress pants (and you know, we were doing physical exercises there???), loving dirty jokes and making them A LOT,

-granny number two – tiny old sweet lady (she was like 80 something years old?), usually sitting in the corner or on the balcony and praying silently, she was like Catholic kamikaze, she sometimes was sitting on the balcony and praying for FIVE HOURS, oh, and once shitted her pants

-granny number three – ex school director, Miss Ooooow, Ooooow, came with 2 suitcases and occupied ½ of the wardrobe (for example, I managed to put all my things in my night stand), was very surprised I came with so little clothes and was washing them, was crying when she had to wash her hair because she always goes to hairdresser…

-granny number four – on a wheelchair, my best pal, making her own cigarettes at evenings on the canteen (a place where the meals were served, close to the balcony), as much done with the other ladies as I was,

-our room were filled with weird Turkish soap operas (the first time they turned the television on some Mahmud wanted to kill some Bahar and the dialogues were so cringy I had to check if it was a real show and surprisingly it was). Every day after I was evacuating my ass to the canteen or to the balcony where I was reading (I’ve finished 19 books and my ass still hurts because of the fucking hard chairs).

-if it was not a Turkish soap opera, it was Polish News on the public channel (Imagine FOX news), so every fucking day when it was played, the traitors of Polishness and Polish tradition and the only good ruling party like me, were gathering in the canteen. We were like a few folks (me, the granny number 4 and some dude doing crosswords and having super high blood pressure, mostly because all dudes from his room were watching the news and agreeing with everything what was said there)

-food, examples

-so I was not eating too much, so granny number one made a cross on my forehead and blessed me, so I would eat more and have a strength to give birth to children – I shit you not

-when I said I don’t want children – they almost had a collective heart attack. I decided to not reveal my other social, religion and political opinions, because I would be strangled to death in my sleep by a rosary one night

-one day I was stupid too much and didn’t leave the room while they were watching Polish Fox News and while half listening to the bullshit I probably made a fuck-my-life-face. When they ask what I was thinking about, my, a fucking idiot, said that about the vanity of life. They almost got another collective heart attack and almost ran to the nurses, no idea why but whatever

-Granny number 3, was afraid of other people snoring, because she had problems with sleep. In the end she was the one who snored the loudest

-there was an opening/closing the windows war. Granny 1 had sick lungs and asthma and whatever so was always closing the window because she was getting pneumonia and oh my god, while Granny 3 had problems with breathing, was suffocating and oh my God, so she was always opening the window. Granny number 3 was always opening the window while other already left for the meals, while Granny number 1 was always returning first and complaining SOMEONE was trying to kill her with the cold air and closing the windows. HILAROUS stuff

-on the end of the first week I ACCIDENTALLY broke a small window that was situated on the top, a window that supposedly was not meant to be open, so for the next 2 weeks we had a window opened ALL the time. Don’t ask why no one called some dudes to fix it, I have no idea, but thanks to it I survived the nights full of symphonies of farts

-that one day they gave us beans for the dinner and boy, you can only imagine

-one day we got a meat chops with a crispy batter. If you added the batter on the bottom to the batter on the top of the meat, they were thicker than meat itself

-all soups tasted the same. One day they gave us a soup and I was SURE it was a pickled cucumber soup and I was AMAZED that they managed to make it without cucumbers. Then I have learnt it was a sorrel soup *sad music in the background*

-the grannies loved to motherhen me for some reason. For example, I was sitting politely in the canteen, reading another fucking book, when one of them came and said I should not read so much, it’s unhealthy and they are worried about me. I was blinking for 30 seconds, wondering if laughing like a mad hyena would make them having another collective heart attack. In the end I just mhm-ed and continued reading.

-later I have learnt they were behaving like that, because they thought I was in middle school…

-basically, I was the youngest person on the ward and some nurses and other patients felt sorry for me because I didn’t have anyone in my age to talk… and I was like… why the fuck I should have been feeling sad? I could read and NOT TALK??? Also, or reading or murdering the grannies with a plastic spoon in their sleep, so thank you very much, leave my ass alone.

-on one dinner I basically ate pasta with pepper, because the spinach, guys, the spinach was awful and I’m not going to traumatize you with the pic

-I had a deal with the crosswords dude during breakfasts and suppers – was giving him ham and cold meat, he was giving me jam

-the Granny number one was SLEEP SINGING one night

-two days per every week some farmer was coming and selling his vegetables and fruits. Guys, all patients were buying food there, for sure I was weeping while buying plums, apples and tomatoes.

-Granny number three was super annoying and acting like a bitch aka typical ex school director, because when she wanted to watch something in TV at night, she always did even if the others were upset, but when she wanted to go to sleep at 9 she owww owwww owwwwed and was turning the lights off. So, sometimes I was returning at 9 to the room and it was dark. And there were no night bedside lamps, so it meant you needed to go to sleep too. At fucking 9.

-the face of one dude who was eating with us on one table was always priceless every time when he was opening the boxes. It was a personification of a man who was done, crying inside and knowing he can’t escape

-the most traumatizing experience after my hip surgery was PEEING. The nurse brought me a bed pan and I needed to pee while laying on my back and it was weirdly difficult, maybe because the nurse was standing over me, talking to another patient. Also, I can’t imagine taking a shit while laying, but whatever. On one moment after like a minute me trying hard, she put a hand on my stomach and said, oh so hard. My face was probably a mix between: ==’ and O.O. But in the end I succeeded, yay…

-another traumatizing experience is measuring the temperature every morning around 6. You know, you are sleeping, but suddenly feel some movement, so you open your eyes and a nurse, wearing a mask is aiming a thermometer that looks like a gun at your forehead. Amazing feeling

-I talked with some dude who had the same surgery aka hip removal, but he was not sleeping so he herd everything, and said how blood was gushing all over the place and the surgeons and the nurse was bringing the artificial hips three times, because the surgeons were not sure if they are the good ones. FUN

-btw, the first time when I saw a dead body was in a hospital. There was a ward where one room was for children, the rest was for adults after accidents etc. Sometimes someone died and they were usually putting the dead body to the bathroom on the corridor (no toilets at the rooms, it was one of the two bathrooms for whole ward). They usually put an “out of service” paper on the door, but sometimes they forgot about it. So, one night, me, sleepy and yawning went to the toilet, opened the door and hellooooooooooo the end of my innocence.

-the most stressful experience from my childhood hospital stayings was “did you defecate yesterday”? Because if you didn’t for a few days an enema was waiting

#not sg #my fam #shitposting #hospital stories

3 notes · View notes

just-mirko · 4 years ago

Photo

lavender petals - part 1

MASTERLIST

Mirko x Reader

Angst, Slow-ish burn, fluff,

WC: 4.1K

MANGA SPOILERS IN LATER PARTS

A steady and constant roll of tapping continued outside

where the rain poured down in fleets of cold water. The little drops all

together sounded like thousands of typewriters; the tiny stamps pressing fresh

ink stains into parchment. The storm did not only darken the sky but slowly,

the concrete was dampened into a charcoal shade and the glass windows collected condensation. The scent of petrichor had not reached where I was, but the

second I stepped outside I could already feel it overtaking my senses. have caused me to be

upset, and make me curse the heavens, but today, the rain started just as the

the shop was about to close, only 30 minutes till I would lock the doors and turn

around the little double-sided sign; switching it to “welcome” to “come back

later. I could not anticipate any customers would actively rush to my store in

the terrible weather, so I accepted it as an easy break where I could stay inside

and relax with warm herbal tea.

My shoes squeaked beneath me when I turned back to the

service counter. Aromas and floral notes were everywhere I stepped. Even if you

stood still, they still changed. orchids, roses, daisies, and violets all

dancing together in harmony.

Once I reached behind the counter, I could see every

corner of the shop in its array of colors that seemed duller than usual from

the lack of sunlight. Nonetheless, they still stood out against the dull pots

and glass vases.

‘I should be done for the day’ I thought to

myself, already having swept the floor, put out the new flowers, and clipped

the old ones before the storm arrived. An overdramatized sigh passed my lips

when I went to sit at the stool next to the register.

Sitting behind the register was always slightly

inconvenient, because blocking my view of the entrance to the store was a

large, and I mean large, bouquet of fresh lavender sprigs. They were normally

used as filler plants but had just come in today and I still could not decide

what to do with them. Additionally, I lacked a new arrangement to add them too,

so they were left out to stand alone.

By far they were the most prominent in the store. Their

sized rivaled all the large wedding table pieces we had. And the smell, though

calming, gave me a headache after being with them all day.

It is not like anyone would buy them either. They were not

as easy on the eye as a rose, three times as expensive, and once again,

typically used as filler flowers.

I settled on scrolling on my phone to distract myself

from thinking about what to do with them. I did not want to wait too long to

sell them lest they wilt.

‘Oh look, my webtoons updated.’

Fifteen-minutes passed quickly and mindlessly. Only 15

minutes till I could lock up and go home. The storm still had not relented, and

now, the rain was accompanied by large clashes of thunder and lightning.

These days life was quite simple. It was not exceptional

nor terrible, but a mediocre and peaceful existence that brought me the chance

to do what I loved. I had friends I visited occasionally, a small business that

was doing well with the white day just around the corner (an eastern type of

valentine’s day). But no matter how many

flowers I had, it wouldn’t quell the little part of my heart longing for

something more.

“CLASH”

The lightning what getting closer outside. It got louder

and louder, making me jump in my seat a little.

“CLASH”

The rain slammed into the ground, but something else was

happening as well. Something in the background of sorts.

“CRASH”

A resonating bang that sounded nothing like lightning

erupted nearby. A car alarm blared as well.

‘Could it be a villain?’ I asked myself as I look

over the purple blossoms to see if I could see what was going on from outside

my window. Alas, it must have been a street down.

‘Why would they fight in this type of weather though?’

Villain activity has spiked rapidly in the last few weeks as the League of

Villains had risen to power than out of nowhere disappeared without a trace. Not

to mention the capture of stain had encouraged many of the morally grey

antagonists to step out of the shadows in pursuit of their own type of justice.

Everyone had their own definition.

I tried to stay up to date on villain activity but so

much was constantly happening. Three times a week we got a new story. In the

beginning, the attacks seemed petty and selfish. Things like; “3 criminals rob a

local bank” or “Enraged fire-type quirk user burns down workplace” but today,

they were more organized, harder to stop. All the villains were working towards

a greater goal that was easier to see.

A little bit ago, one of the most popular quirks inclusive

department’s CEO joined the LOV after an all-out fight. Many were injured. It

was practically a bloodbath. Citizens remember seeing ice and blue fire merge

in giant tornados in the sky. The entire building disintegrated without a

trace. A witness with still in shock commented that she saw a UA student emerging

from the rubble, but that claim was shut down instantly by that student’s very

own teacher.

Unease was everywhere. People even began to stop trusting

figures of authority out of fear they might not be who they said. I was not a

target to any kind of villain myself, but who knows if I could become just

another statistic on the news.

Police sirens came into earshot.

I guess it was a criminal after all. Soon enough I would

be able to find a nice little article online detailing everything that happened

with a cover image of an unscathed hero smiling at the camera as if all were

well. How they tried to convince us that all was wel-

The chime of bells interrupted my thoughts when someone

came through the store door, very close to closing time.

When I looked up at them, I completely froze, unknowing

of what to do say, even think.

Before me stood… Mirko? Mirko. Mirko the Rabbit Hero. The

number #4 hero. The best female hero. And she was- Injured?

She stood with her shoulders rolled back but she was

panting heavily. Her platinum hair dripped water onto the pristine checkerboard

floors I just mopped. Across her, the skin on one of her shoulders was a crimson

slash. The blood that came from it dripped partially into her hair, staining it

slightly; and partially mixed with the water she was absolutely drenched in. She

looked cold in the light hero gear.

In her weak state, she still held an air of strength. When

I looked up in obvious shock at her condition, I was met with piercing red eyes

and a smile I would describe as manic on anyone else.

“C-can I help you—are you okay?” I stumble out when I

started to panic, realizing that she just fought the cause of all the racket

down the street.

My response only looked to entertain her, and she smiled

wider chuckled then pulled her hair over one shoulder: twisting it to ring out

the excess water (and blood).

“Yea, you do sell flowers, right?” She said. We were

obviously on different pages. She seemed completely relaxed as she was still

bleeding a watered-down red puddle onto the floor. Meanwhile, I was seriously

concerned about her health. Online, I simply assumed that every pro-hero held a

façade. That they were not as cocky, brave, or positive as they seemed once the

cameras were cut. This though was a spitting image of every picture of her I

had seen. Despite that, nothing could have prepared me for this in person-encounter.

“Y-yes I sell flowers”

I frantically scanned across the store for something for

my eyes to latch onto. My fingertips pressed hard against the side of the

resister to the point where my fingertips were turning white and my knuckles

began to cramp.

Mirko walked forward. Despite her injuries, she did not

have any limp and strolled casually over to some of the display stands

near the front window. I fidgeted with my finger while I stumbled over to where

she was. Her gaze we currently focused on some white lilies, though she soon

switched to some yellow roses.

“What is the, um, the occasion- For the flowers?” The

words tumbled out of my mouth. They felt out of order and out of place. Seeing a

hero in public is a strange thing. As amazing as they are, you always suspect

that there is an underlying threat of danger. You are both drawn to them yet

repelled by the hint. It's always ‘Why would a hero be here.” That wasn’t

the occasion now though. She was just- here for flowers? She was definitely just

off from work and needed a few band-aids; at most, stitches. My mind still had a

rough time thinking over why she so casual. I hoped this doesn’t happen often

for her.

Mirko’s fingers paused when she traced the outline of an

imported lily.

“A friend of mine got his ass beat up by a walking flamethrower”

The way she said that, so lightheartedly, with a slight smirk on her face, but

sadness in her eyes confused me.

“Is he a hero too?” I inquired; taken aback by the lack

of filter. It had nothing to do with the

flowers, but my curiosity got the best of me.

“Hawks.” She shortly stated before turning back towards

me.

A look of recognition must have crossed my face as she did

not explain any further and just continued.

“So…” She crossed her hands over her chest and looked up

towards me (we using Mirko’s canon height today cause she short short lol).

“What flowers would be best for ‘get better idiot’” Her

hair was still disheveled and soaking wet but the ethereal glow the rain seemed

to give her face made me want anything but eye contact. I shouldn’t really get

flustered so easily, but when a celebrity built like a Greek goddess steps into

your shop looking like she’s straight out of war…

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to make any custom arrangements

today because I’m closing-“I looked down at my watch for the time. “5 minutes

ago, but we have many premade sets and custom vases if you’re interested?”

I tried to seem chipper and avert my gaze from her hair,

bleeding shoulder, and foot that was insistently tapping on the wet floor, but

in between each word I stole a glace that did not go unnoticed.

“That’s okay, I’m fine with a pre-made bouquet.” I

fiddled with my thumbs once more. She was really giving me nothing to work

with.

“Any flowers in specific you like?” I asked, grasping for

straws. Mirko’s expression was perfectly neutral and ambiguous. Even if she

gave me a color, I could work off that, but all I had was a name and extra

mopping to do.

‘I wonder if blood will stain my tile’

What she said next seemed to fit with the personality I

was slowly assembling her.

“You guess.” And with that, she turned to look at more

bouquets and potted plants that lined the shelves.

The lavender! I thought, finally thinking I had found a

way to get rid of them but realized that may not be well suited as a get well

soon gift.

Hawks. Hawks. Hawks. The bird hero. The bird men. Red

feathers, right?

Because of the hero’s color pallet, per

se, I was drawn to red roses and yellow daisies, maybe some red and white

lilies. I found an arrangement I thought fit on one of the shelves next to a

window, where it was still raining outside. I carefully picked the flowers up;

their silky petals caressed my hand. Two petals floated down onto the floor as

I relocated them back to the assembly station.

“Would you like a vase with this?” I questioned. Her ears

perked towards me, shocking me in the slightest. Of course, it was not unusual,

but with how she seemed to hear me from across the room without turning her

head made me fear that she would hear my heartbeat racing in my chest. This was

a hero. A real-life hero. God, I hope I do not mess this up.

“Mmmhnn,” She said, inflecting that meant yes. I walked

near a shelf where we stored them and looked at the variety of glass, plastic,

and even porcelain vases reserved for special occasions. My eye was stuck on a

red one that caught the soft lighting of the store beautifully. I reached up to

grab it and held the cool glass in my hand. With the sleeve of my jacket, I

began to brush off some of the dust, ignoring the mark it left.

“Ooh, I like that one” I heard from behind me. Quite

startled I jumped, and the vase left my hand, seconds from crashing into the

floor. Before I could blink, Mirko had caught it agilely.

“The color is nice,” She said as she turned it over in her

hands, clearly pleased with having shaken me.

Honestly, the banter was a nice break from today. I guess

it would not hurt to lighten up a little.

“Yea,” I said with a gentle smile.

I had almost finished totaling her order and was putting

the flowers in the box to protect from the rain when I looked over at Mirko and

saw her quite intrigued by the lavender practically overtaking my desk.

“We just got that lavender in! It's fresh and quite relaxing.”

I hummed to myself, pleased with the wrapping I did on Hawk’s bouquet.

“How much for them?” She asked turning to me inquisitively.

“Well lavender isn’t normally sold alone but that’s about

10 arrangements worth” I said pointing to the sheer number of flowers. Upon

the counter, they were more than two feet tall.

“So?” She said, resting her elbows upon the table and leaning

in to smell the lavender even more. The ivory ears atop her head sloped

downwards a little more reminding me of a little puppy when they got pet. An

obvious show of their aromatic effects.

“Two-hundred, though I could definitely get you a smaller

amount if you would like, they’re sold twenty per bundle just because of how

hard they are to transport and a how delicate they te-“

“I’ll take them all,” She said with an aggressive smile

and firm shake of her head. There was a switch in her tone like she suddenly

decided she revealed too much of herself to the general public. I did not like

thinking that though. That she saw me as the public. Everyone wants to be

special sometimes.

“How was errr- work today?” I asked, clearly insinuating

my concern for her condition.

A small shadow passed over her face. Her eyes got a

little darker and the corners of her mouth turned down before her typical passionately

a confident smile came back.

“Nothing I can’t handle” Those smug words were

accompanied by a flourished wink that was embellished her white eyelashes.

“I heard a crash nearby. Was there a villain?” This time

she did not hesitate to answer.

She finished paying and gave me an address to deliver

them to tomorrow. One to a hospital, and one to a home address. I expected a

PO box and assumed her address was not something she just gave away, but that was

not the only thing I was warmly excited about. Instead of signing “Mirko” her

formal hero title on the receipt, She signed her real name, Rumi Usagiyama.

---

The weather was much more considerate this morning. When I

awoke, golden rays filtered light through my lashes into my eyes. The faint

sound of birds chirping and bustling people in the city below faintly reached my

ears.

I lived right above my flower shop, making my commute to work

conveniently. I chose to dress a little bit nicer today, opting for a cream-colored

turtleneck and dark washed jeans instead of my normal gardening attire. Spring

was right around the corner in Musutafu Japan. Winter was leaving and the city

was in the awkward middle state where it's too cold to wear spring clothes but

too sunny to stay in jackets.

Since yesterday was Saturday, I had today off, kinda. I

just had a few flower deliveries to complete before I could go back home and lay

on the couch eating watermelon sour patch kids (ichor itself) and reading

terribly done 9k fanfics online. (Wow! Our reader!! Is super!!! Self!!!!

Aware!!!!!)

My brain had completely blocked out everything that

happened last night, so when I checked my order list and saw Rumi

written in neat handwriting, my confusion was immense.

‘So, It wasn’t a dream then…’’ huh.”

I walked downstairs into my store. I saw a few

schoolchildren peeking in the dark windows since there were no lights on to look

at the flowers. I waved to them and then chuckled to myself when they left tiny

little handprints on the glass. Tall buildings could be seen across. A café, a

tattoo shop, a little library, and many small businesses that were nestled right

in the center of town where they got lots of attention. Around the back exist to

the stores were where most of the employees parked. My friend and co-worker had

called in sick this weekend, so it meant I had to do all the deliveries myself.

I went over to the storage room. A wave of cold rushed

over me and sent tingles down my entire body. This was always kept cold to keep

the flowers alive longer, but always hated retrieving boxes from there.

I steadily grabbed the lavender-filled box and stacked

Hawk’s arrangement box on top of it. The white cardboard stood so tall in front

of me when I held them I could barely see when I walked out the back door and

over to my car where I nearly dropped them loading them into my car’s trunk.

I clumsily got into the driver’s seat and started the

engine to head to the first address. Hawk’s hospital. Right in the center of

town, it was only 10 minutes when you accounted for traffic.

The hospital was the nicest in Mafatsu, with white pillars

and balconies on some patient's rooms. Only the best for heroes. When I got out

of my car and drew near, the building felt like it was swallowing me whole in

its large size.

My soft footsteps appeared insignificant with prestigious

doctors and nurses bustling around in choreographed chaos. When I got to the reception

area, a pink-haired nurse with a kind smile greeted me cheerfully.

“Hello! How can I help you today?” She began typing before

I even said anything. Maybe a prediction quirk.

“Hey, I’m here to drop off flowers from Mirko for Hawks?”

She nodded in understanding and scanned her eyes over my

body, then the box I was holding, all while typing fluidly into a computer. Finally,

her gaze broke and she looked down at a small printer that made a small sticker

with the words visitor pass in bolded font.

“He will be on the top floor, level 60 in room 219. If he

isn’t in his room, just call a nurse with the pager in there, he’s been getting

out a lot recently.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“He really just wants to get back to work but whenever he

flies he leaves a trail of blood and feather in his path”

Her hair swished when she leaned over to give

me the papery sticker. Her fingertips brushed against my palm for a second

longer than platonic before she went back and waved goodbye to me. Her cheeks were tinted slightly pink.

The encounter made my heart rush but that might just because

it’s the first romantic-ish thing that has happened to me in a while. I mean

she was pretty- but we scarcely talked. My palm still tingled where our hands

touched though. I was so distracted I did not notice when I found myself in Hawk’s

room.

I had never delivered anything to a hero before. Should I

just drop them in and leave? My hand rested atop the doorknob questioning how

to do this. The fluorescent hospital lights desaturated everything including my

ability to make cohesive thoughts.

Just as I opened the door, I heard a shattering sound,

something collapsing, and then

“Wait no shit-“Another thing fell to the ground. “-fuck” I

carefully opened the door. To see Hawk’s the pro hero, clutching his side with

one hand, and holding a sideways IV drip in one hand, but the fluid bag itself

was on the floor, along with some kind of glass and a medical device I couldn’t

identify from the various dents and scratches on it. It did not look like he

noticed me yet, he was much too preoccupied.

“Hey should-“

“AH!” He yelled turning towards me. I couldn’t flinch

fast enough before three-foot-long red feathers with murderous intent came

spearing towards my head. Within that instant in closed my eyes prepared to be

dead but when I opened them up, the feathers were hovering just centimeters

away from my skull.

I shocked me that I was still holding the flower box when

I checked. My eyes were wide as I stood still, jaw open, not a single breath

leaving my mouth.

“Are you a new nurse or something?” The feathers remained

there. I gulped before answering, my body felt light, flight, or fight already taking

place.

“I’m a- a florist.” I gestured down at the box with my

logo on it, and he seemed to relax a little bit.

“Oh.” He replied and the feathers returned to beside him.

He tried to make the IV drip stand back up again, but in a futile attempt he

gave up, just letting it fall to the group beside the other tools. He turned away

from me.

‘He is obviously in pain right now’ He faced away just

to hide the scowl and how much he was now clutching his side.

He looked over his shoulder “Who sent you?”

“Mirko” I responded relieve that he was no longer about

to kill me.

“Where should I leave the flowers?”

“The table next to my bed” I stepped over there. An

assortment of papers where there is messy handwriting that I had no place in

reading. Nonetheless, I caught the words “Touya.” Too bad I didn’t know any Touyas.

I sat the box down and opened it up.

Luckily with everything that went on, I didn’t destroy any

of the blooms.

“Did Mirko say anything about me?” He questioned quickly.

As much as he tried to seem tough, he valued her opinion very much.

“Get well soon and all of that, nothing much, she was too

busy teasing me, you know?”

“Mirko was? Teasing you?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion

before settling into a knowing look.

“Ohhhh” He winked.

“No no, it's nothing like this I promise I just met her.”

“Mmmn k” He didn’t believe me in the slightest.

“Just watch out she packs a punch”

Hawks walked over to where the flowers were and observed

the arrangement. He had a particular fondness for the red lilies, the same ones

that Mirko liked. He talks about her punch though reminded me of the crashes

and villain attack last night.

“I hope she’s okay, she seemed pretty beat up last night

after the battle.”

“Eh, she recovers inhumanly quick. Something to do with the

rabbit in her.”

He looks over to me and paused.

“What’s your name?”

“(Y/N)”

“(Y/N Hmmm) He mumbled to himself like he was getting

used to the way it sounded.

“I can’t imagine this will be our last encounter (Y/N),

It was nice to meet you.”

I smiled graciously and sighed.

“Nice to meet you too.”

#bnhabookclub #mirkobnha #miruko #mirukobnha #bnha fanfic #bnha mirko #bnha x reader #flowershop au #kinda flower shop not really its just the reader who works at a flower shop lol ahaha #mirko x reader #rumi usagiyama #rumi usagiyama x reader #just-mirko #justmirko #Lavender Petals #pegahawks2020 #kinda gay

32 notes · View notes

minsyal · 5 years ago

Text

Headcanons for the boys s/o appearing to be a delicate lil flower but actually being filled with knives

Request: How would the boys feel about an s/o who’s some royal’s personal servant and looks delicate, but can actually take on monster camps with ease?

Revali

Revali will completely lowkey expect it

It happened as you were assisting the Princess as she made royal arrangements with the elder in the village. You trailed behind her, hands folded politely over your abdomen, staring blankly forward at the back of Link’s shoes. Honestly, you were excited. Until recently, your relationship with the Rito Champion had been kept a secret. One slip up and Zelda had caught you two sneaking around the grounds.

The elder was politely speaking in hushed tones to the princess as Link stood to the rear of the room beside you. Revali had positioned himself near the princess but was paying them no mind. He was focused on you. His entertainment was not coming from the conversation, but instead the pink tinge that slowly crept its way to your cheeks.

“You’re different around the Princess, you know?” Revali would comment once the Princess had retired for the night and was safely guarded in the Inn.

It wasn’t rare for you to meet with him after dark. After all, that’s how the two of you met.

Revali particularly took enjoyment in the different side of you he saw when you partook in your nightly “workout.” At first it worried him, he didn’t quite believe that you could handle the camp yourself. Once he realized your abilities, he was absolutely starstruck. It was love at first sight (but he wouldn’t admit that.)

“I knew you were far more than you seem.” He’d comment as you strolled back to the village.

“No you didn’t.” You scoffed, throwing your knife back into its holster before strapping it back in place. “You thought I was ‘delicate.”

“Hmm.” He pondered for a moment. “No, I knew.”

“Whatever, bird boy.” Your servants dress easily slipped over your head as the smooth fabric cascaded from your shoulders to your hips.

Revali smirked, he was most certainly sure that he knew all along.

Sidon

Sidon could absolutely not believe it

It was absolutely baffling when Sidon found out his father had hired a Hylian to act as a Zora royal servant. He initially found you to be so incredibly adorable. He loved the way you followed him around always ensuring he had what he needed and retrieving things when he asked.

What he didn’t expect was your ability to completely eradicate a camp of monsters that had decided the Zora River was a great place to set up shop.

The two of you were making rounds on one of the nicer days. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the rushing water was providing a calming ambiance to your stroll. You liked Sidon, more so than many at the Domain believed. Surely there were people who saw through your ruse. Questioning eyes and harsh glares became a normal thing from the “Sidon Fan Club” that stood 20 feet away from him at all times, giggling insanely when he’d so much as glance in their direction.

The two of you interlaced your fingers as he trudged forward.

A horn sounded, interrupting your tranquil moment. Three lizalfos stood upon newly-constructed scaffolding near an old abandoned camp. The electricity emanating from their arrows was apparent and the quiver in Sidon’s touch didn’t go unnoticed.

Without question, you sprung into action. Within minutes, the camp had been destroyed. Sidon stood there, wielding his rapier.

“Oh.” The small word escaped his lips as he slashed it twice and put it away. “That was... unexpected.”

“In a good way?” You wiped your hand down your face.

“In a very good way!” A squeak escaped your lips as you were hoisted into the air. Sidon’s hands were placed firmly upon your hips as he swung you around. “That was astounding! Truly phenomenal!”

“But dear, please never do that again.”

Link

Link is like “wow that made me really nervous but I’m so happy to have this information now!”

Traveling outside of Hateno was practically unheard of for those who had lived there forever. Travelers often brought what the village needed and what they didn’t bring was grown. So for you, a Hateno native, to be coming and going from the village was truly a feat to behold. People were cautious here, they didn’t step out of any lines and always stuck to the path. It was rather boring after a whole lifetime.

When Link arrived in the village he completely stirred everything up. The shop was seeing great profits, Bolson and Co was making bank, and the village children were telling tales that the mysterious knight brought along with him. That’s one of the things that drew you to him.

He had partially expected it. He knew you weren’t one to stay at home selling the latest harvest of rice or wheat. You wanted to see Hyrule for everything it had to offer. You wanted to meet the Gerudo women, the Zoras, the Rito, and Gorons. Link was your ticket out, and you gladly took it.

The first time you came across a monster camp with Link, he had instinctively crouched behind a boulder and pulled you down with him. A single finger pressed up against his lips as he motioned for you to stay quiet. Another pointed at your current position, telling you to stay put. You, though, had different plans.

With a smirk on your face, you nodded innocently. As Link crept away, sword drawn, you did also. As he neared the first scaffolding where a particularly ugly bokoblin stood guard, you sprung into action. Within minutes, the entire camp was deserted; there wasn’t a single evil soul left in sight.

You smiled at Link who had remained where he was, dumbfounded.

After that, Link never asked you to stay back. After all, even if he did, he knew you wouldn’t listen.

Teba

Omg he has a wife wtf ya’ll

Hitting on a married man?

You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Kass

He’s also a married man

You want to split up his marriage?

Shameful!

Daruk

He’s honestly so proud and also so worried

Because you’re so small compared to him! and he could have easily done it himself! But he’s so proud that you’re super strong and independent!

Death Mountain was particularly hot today. The lava wasn’t quite spilling over, but it sure felt like it was. There was an odd feeling in the air. It had grown considerably thicker overnight as if something amiss was brewing.

Daruk was up to his usual business. He had messed around the city all morning and was now rolling around the mountain searching for any straggling monsters left over from yesterday’s attack. You had perched yourself atop a peak, vaguely able to make out the smoke cloud as he disrupted the dirt below. You were, as he said, “My eyes in the skies.” He had insisted you had more in common with the Rito, who could swiftly fly to the highest points in Hyrule, than the Gorons who spent all of their time on the ground.

Your eyes trailed him as he traveled to the east, but there was a clear disturbance to the west. A large dust cloud was collecting near one of the hot springs, the sight of nearly fifteen monsters as they marched toward the city was apparent.

Without a second of doubt, you drew your glider and headed off. The land turned to open air as you drifted downward toward the crowd of foes. They stood no chance! There was no way Daruk would make it to the crowd in time, so alerting him would have to be put on the back burner.

The bokoblins stood absolutely no chance to your archery skills. Several arrows later, the entire gang was gone - diminished to ash.

Another puff of dust had you spinning on your toes only to come face to face with a worried and wide-eyed Daruk.

“What’re ya doing?” He said slowly, eyes darting from the beasts to you. “I saw ya flying down here and... well... figured ya we’r in trouble.” An, uncharacteristic, small laugh escaped his lips as he knelt down. “But I guess ya handled it yerself’ pretty well! I didn’t know you were so handy with a bow!”

“Ta’ think! You’ve got a lot of strength in that tiny body of yours!”

1K notes · View notes

miraithislife · 5 years ago

Text

Miraith Part 3 <3 (little long oop)

“Did you...ever have a family...?” She asked in a soft, curious voice. Wraith had been nestled warmly by the fireplace in Mirage’s private condo. It was filled with pictures, collectibles, and posters of him, of course, along with all of his trophies and medals from the Games, fan mail, fan art, comics, and practically anything else related to him.

“My family?” Mirage repeated in surprise, not really expecting her to ask that of him. He was in the kitchen, making them both some warm mugs of hot chocolate to treat the increasingly bitter cold from which they’d just sought refuge. “Well, yea. I have a family. I’m the youngest of four. Four boys. Had to screw around to get attention, you know.”

Wraith scoffed, “Bet that wasn’t hard for you to do.” She brought the blanket (with a full length Mirage printed onto it) more snugly around her shoulders, having replaced Mirage’s coat, which was hung neatly in the closet by the front door.

Mirage grinned, “Nope.” He laughed. “We were definitely a handful for our parents.”

Wraith bit her lip embarrassedly and looked to the crackling flames when realizing she had no idea what those were. She knew everyone had them, she’d heard the term before. Something about it was vaguely familiar. She wanted to ask, but the words stopped in her throat. Would she sound weird for asking such a ridiculous thing?

What would he think of her if she did?

What if he thought she was joking?

What would he think when realizing she was being serious?

A pit grew in Wraith’s stomach as her anxieties grew, and she began to get a headache from overthinking.

It’s Mirage. He’ll understand. She self-consoled.

Wraith took a breath and asked (after conjuring up the bravery) in a voice soft as silk, “What are parents?”

Mirage looked over at her. The look in her eyes told him she was being genuine and serious. “Uh,” he began, not wanting his surprise or delay in response to come off judgemental or make her feel bad. “Well...parents are the people who take care of you. Claim you as your own, cause, uh. They gave birth to you? Well no your mom does that part...the dad just--ahem.” He shrugged. “Yea they take care of and love you, basically. Raise ya. All that fun stuff.” He picked out two mugs from the cupboard.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She thought.

Did she ever have parents...? She wondered.

“You have parents?” She asked.

“Well, yea.” Mirage replied, setting them on the countertop and closing the cupboard. “Everyone has parents, right?”

Wraith solemnly averted her gaze to her hands, saying quietly. “Right.”

Mirage winced. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean--”

“It’s alright.” She said, rather shortly.

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I mean, not everyone has parents.” He said in an attempt to make it better. He shrugged and said in a tone to play it off, “Besides, it’s not like having parents make you cool or anything.” He removed the pitcher from the stove once the water’d heated to the perfect temperature.

“At least not mine, heh. I mean, what kind of parents tell you you were an accident baby and try to sell you online?” He began pouring the water into each of the mugs, “OnLINE.” He stressed. “And for FREE?” He passionately continued, still holding the steaming pitcher, waving it along with his animated hand gestures and story retelling. Wraith raised the blanket to her mouth, she couldn’t help but softly giggle at his increasing annoyance as he recalled the memory.

Mirage was too enraged to notice her adorable little laugh. “I mean, hell. Like okay, I was an accident and you wanna sell me, but for free?” He gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me, I’m amazing! I’m handsome, I’m smart, I’ve got fans--I’ve gotta be worth a nice rack of pork chops at the very least. And I was the cutest little thing, too.” Mirage set the pitcher down, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator. He shook his head, confused as to why he was so unwanted, “I had chubby cheeks...I had curls…”

“What were your parents like?” Wraith asked. “Aside from wanting to sell you, of course.”

“My mom was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She was great.” Mirage began, the selling incident instantly leaving his mind. He stood and resumed finishing the hot chocolate, adding the cocoa powder. “She was crazy smart. My mother was an engineer. She’d make things, design things, build things, break a few things.” He laughed. “That was always funny.” He laughed again. “She makes me, well, me.” He said, raising his arms to bask in his glory. “Mirage.”

He plopped a couple marshmallows into each of the mugs. Carefully, he carried the mugs to the living room and set them on the glass coffee table. He moved the gold and red accent pillows on his sleek dark gray couch to allow himself a seat next to Wraith. “She introduced me to illusion-creating tech. And...well, long story short I got obsessed and addicted, went to school and learned about mechanisms and doohickeys and whatchamacallits, and, well, yea, here I am.” He handed her her mug first.

“Then we made some pretty cool stuff together. My favorites were all the holo tech, I mean come on look at this baby.” He said proudly with a smug look on his face, gesturing to his outfit. “Worked at the bar for who knows how long, heard about the Games and wanted to join, sounded pretty fun. But I didn’t want to leave my mother alone, you know, since everyone else was gone.” His face fell.

“Until one day she came up to me after a long day of work and gave me a set of customized holo devices and told me to follow my dream.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, I did. And I promised to give her some money to help her get out of some long overdue debts and out of the slums and dirt we’d always lived in. I can finally say I’ve helped make her happy, now. I make sure she’s taken care of before going off to compete, cause you know, never know if that’s my last time seeing her.”

Wraith failed to suppress the warmth that washed over heart. “She sounds amazing.” She took the mug graciously. “Thank you.”

Mirage smiled, “Yea, she really is. Everything I do now in the Games is for her.”

Wraith couldn’t help but feel her heart warm her chest. She’d always seen Mirage as silly and rather self-centered, but it turned out, to her pleasant surprise, that there were things that truly mattered to him more than just women, fans, or having the spotlight on him. “She’s lucky to have such a great son like you. I’m sure you two have always been really close.”

Mirage blushed at her compliment, “Thank you.” He wrinkled his nose and shrugged, “Nah, not always. We didn’t really get along that well at first (which was entirely my fault), and we kinda just bonded after my three older brothers died in the Frontier War, so all she had was me by default.” He laughed wryly. “But honestly with the engineering thing, it helped make it work. Now I can’t imagine life without her.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, only then realizing Wraith hadn’t.

“Don’t like hot chocolate?” He asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” she replied. “I’ve just never had it.” Her eyes didn’t move from the chocolate tainted white blobs floating in her mug. “What are those?”

Mirage scoffed, “What are those? Only the best things ever!”

Wraith smiled, “What are they?”

“Marshmallows. Soft, squishy, sweet thingamajigs...I don’t really know what they are, but they make everything a million times better. Especially in hot chocolate.” Mirage replied. “Try it.”

Wraith looked at him, then back to her mug. Slowly, she curled her full, rounded lips, silently blowing away the steam that arose from the mug, watching it dissipate into the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heavenly, chocolatey aroma, exhaling a soft hum of content. Mirage, adorably, watched her place the mug’s rim to her mouth, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautifully shaped lips. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a sip. She sighed through her nose in content as the soothing warmth made its way down her throat and through her body, reveling in the cocoa’s richness and the marshmallow’s delicately sweet touch.

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Her heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes scared her. But...in a good way. There was no doubt he was in total awe and completely enamored of her existence. Mirage couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to, and the throbbing in his chest that burned so fiercely out of love, longing, and desire began to grow to a point at which he couldn’t control or suppress for much longer.

Her heart raced.

There was so much she wanted to tell him.

So much he needed to know.

So much she wished she had the strength to tell him.

So much she wanted to share with him...in every way possible.

A blush touching her cheeks, she smiled warmly. “It’s delicious.”

Mirage beamed. “I’m glad you think so. And that looks good on you, by the way.”

Wraith slightly furrowed her brow, “What does?”

Mirage replied dreamily, “That smile.”

Wraith quickly averted her gaze as her blush deepened, she cleared her throat in attempt to change the subject, “What about your fath--”

Mirage’s mood changed quickly. “My dad was an absolute scumbag. Was never there. Hit and cheated on my mom. Abused and overworked us boys. Cursed us out. Destroyed the house. Kept us poor and put us down. Drank his life away and took his problems out on us. List goes on and on.” He said with a wave of his hand.

“Disappeared one day and never came back. Left us dirt poor and starving and took everything my mom owned to sell for money but you know, it was prolla-prabob-parlabol--” He threw his hands up in frustration. “WORDS.” He hastily stood up and made his way to the wall, punching it vehemently. He grabbed his wrist and gasped sharply in pain. He kicked the wall in frustration and sat on the side of his bed, facing the wall. “His leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” He ended in spite, fiddling with the straps on his glove.

Wraith didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen him like this before.

The saddened and angry little boy inside of him was waking up, and she knew that feeling all too well. To feel trapped. To have emotions suppressed and not worked through. To feel resentment and revenge. To want answers. To want to just know why.

Without a sound, she arose from the cushions and to his side, the bed bouncing a little as she sat. Mirage’s body swayed a little from the movement, his head hung low. Wraith reassuringly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mirage. I know that must’ve been very hard for you...to not have someone there when you needed them most, let alone cause so much pain...and to not understand why.”

Her hand gently turned his face to hers, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart. His face fell, his head hung low, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. Angry tears pricked his eyes, and several had begun to make their way down his cheeks.

Wraith continued, gently cupping his face with her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away his tears, “To have things happen out of your control and suffer from it. Whether it’s you or loved ones. Then you question what you did wrong and what you should’ve done right, as if it’s your fault...taking on that burden.” She lifted his face so their eyes met, and with a gentle motion, she brushed his hair from his face and behind his ear, then caressing his cheek in the same manner he had to her earlier. “But that doesn’t make you wrong in how you feel. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be angry. Just don’t let them define or change who you are.” She smiled.

Mirage stared at her, speechless.

How did she know what to say? And how to say it? So elegantly and well put?

“That’s...exactly how I feel, Wraith.” Mirage said. He never doubted her past experiences, but the level to which they could relate was so touching it made his heart feel so much lighter. He now knew, finally, at 30 years old, that he wasn’t alone.

Wraith scoffed through a soft laugh. “Well, I know a thing or two about loss and pain.”

Mirage gently took her hands from his face and cherished them in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles several times, not breaking eye contact. “Well, you’re not alone anymore.”

#miraithislife #part3 #fanfic #mirageandwraith #miragexwraith #mirage #wraith #randomfluff #randomfluffs #love #cute #relationship #aww #miraith #fanfiction #apexlegends

68 notes · View notes

justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Codename Cupid: Chapter 8

Previous: Another Shot At Love Pt. 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi X OFC, Park Jimin X OMC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption, Degradation, Humiliation, Verbal Abuse, Horrible Family, Bullying, Sibling Rivalries, Homophobia, Toxic Masculinity

Summary: Codename Suga joins Codename Cupid at her parents house for family dinner. It’s both everything he imagined, and so much worse.

Codename Another Shot at Love Part 3

Fall Post Graduation

Park Yoongi, Codename Suga, arrived at the Lee residence dressed to the nines, a new suit, top of the line glasses and Ferragamo loafers that Hoseok had picked out especially for him. Nothing about his look screamed mid-level employee at a top-level bank, or government agent bent on destroying a company from within, which was the point. Namjoon had determined that to impress the Lee’s, Codename Valentine, Suga had to be runway ready. His hair was slicked back, and in his arms, a bottle of Makers 46, a bottle Cupid had ensured her father would appreciate. In his ear, a flesh-colored earpiece, specially designed, allowing his teammates, Codenames RM, Worldwide Handsome and J-Hope, to feed him lines when needed.

Adjusting his spectacles and turning them on, Suga’s vision was momentarily blocked as the sensors began their job scanning everything and everyone insight, transmitting data in real time to his set up at OT7 headquarters. The glasses, a creation he had spent the better part of a year working on, were a modification of his third-generation specs. Not only could they recognize faces, scan for heat sensors, but log sounds such as alarm codes and lock patterns, decoding their passcodes in seconds. This was a marked improvement from the generation twos, which recorded sound and took up to 24 hours to decode. The recorded surveillance was wired through the major databases used by OT7 to track down faces of everyone Suga came in contact with. Tonight, their goal was to memorize every aspect of the Lee’s estate, transmit the layout into a CAD (computer aided design) drawing and print a scaled blueprint. They were also responsible for identifying every human in the Lee’s house, pulling names, birthdays, permanent addresses and social security numbers. In his glasses case, Suga had placed several microscopic microphones, which he placed on any surface he touched. They might not have eyes inside the mansion, but OT7 would have ears.

“Park Yoongi,” The attendant declared as he stepped through the foyer and into the sitting room, where the entire Lee, Codename Valentine, family sat waiting for him.

“Good evening,” Yoongi bowed deeply, a remnant of his heritage and a sign of respect.

“Yoongi!” Euna said, standing and quickly wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaning in, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Mom, dad, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.”

Mr. Lee rose, looked Yoongi up and down before he spoke, “I hear you work for us. Good.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Yoongi nodded.

“Your work is good, you fly under the radar, if you’re to continue this with Euna, you will need to do better,” Mr. Lee extended his hand, shaking Yoongi’s, before moving past him.

“Sir, I brought you a gift, I heard it’s one of your favorites,” Yoongi handed the man the bottle and watched as he unwrapped it. His oafish hands tore through the tissue paper, impatient to get his hands on something he didn’t buy but eagerly wanted.

“Ahh, a bribe, thoughtful,” Mr. Lee said before handing the bottle to the head of house, who had quietly walked into the room. She took it and carefully moved to place it on the shelf which housed an impressive collection of whiskey.

Mrs. Lee looked at her cohort of older children. “Don’t be rude.”

The three children rose and walked towards Yoongi. Towering over him, Dae-Seong and Jun-Seo glared down at him, a sinister smirk on both their faces.

“Dae-Seong,” He said, squeezing Yoongi’s hand harder than necessary.

“Jun-Seo,” He repeated the action, his hold lighter, his smirk faded into a thin line, laced with more concern than Yoongi imagined Dae-Seong could ever muster.

“Yoongi,” Kwan-Min bowed before extending her hand, “Kwan-Min.” Her smile mirrored Euna’s, gentle and vibrant. Her eyes told the same story as her brothers, watch your back.

“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi responded. Carefully taking a seat next to Euna, he smiled tersely at the family.

“Yoongi, tell us about yourself,” Mrs. Lee requested. She slowly clinked the perfectly shaped sphere of ice in her glass, it slowly melting into the brown liquid.

“Is there anything specific you want to know?” He responds politely.

“Your file is thin, you don’t seem to want to advance at Lee Enterprises, so how’d you end up here?” Dae-Seong doesn’t mince words. Much like the booming timbre of his voice, his words cut straight to the point.

“I worked in the Manhattan branch every summer of college, had two internships my junior and senior year, and then applied for an entry level position,” Yoongi could hear Namjoon, Codename RM, in his ear, repeating the fabricated story made ever more real by Hoseok’s ability to forge documents.

“They moved you out here?” Mr. Lee questioned.

“Yes, they asked if I would transfer,” Yoongi replied.

“Why?” Dae-Seong was perplexed, no new hire was asked to transfer unless they were a problem worth handling.

“They said I was polished, and my work was good,” Yoongi shrugged. WWH reminded him to lean into the nonchalance, the ultimate fuck-you attitude the Lee’s hated.

“Seems vague,” Jun-Seo remarked. “Your childhood was rather bleak, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t the best, but it was temporary,” Yoongi knew this was the line of questioning they’d take, and not just with him, with anyone not from the upper echelon, anyone not worth less than 100 million.

“Your parents were, sorry, are, quite poor,” Dae-Seong pressed.

“Poor to some is rich to others,” Yoongi answered.

“But poor is still, poor,” Jun-Seo responded.

“You haven’t dated much, either have you Yoongi?” Kwan-Min’s voice was velvet, soft and supple in the tense air.

“I’ve had a few relationships, but none like Euna,” Mr. World Wide’s voice was clear and gentle, sell it Suga.

“What makes her so different? Clearly you see things that we don’t,” Dae-Seong snorted back a laugh, it was a hideous sound, loud and haunting.

“I see a lot of things in Euna. She’s thoughtful, considerate, she’s caring and funny. She accepts me for who I am, and makes me a better person,” Yoongi laid on the compliments like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks rehearsing them for OT7.

It had taken him a while to list the characteristics he liked about Cupid, and ultimately had recruited WWH to write it for him. He stared at the words Mr. Handsome wrote, and was shocked that he still cared this much about her. Yoongi felt none of these things, none of these adjectives or memories that Mr. Handsome had strewn together resonated with him in the slightest. Cupid was a mark, a pawn in the play, nothing more.

“Huh, lucky someone does,” Jun-Seo laughed, ribbing Dae-Seong and leading him in a cackle all their own. Yoongi glanced at Euna to see her jaw set, cheeks flushed, eyes glossed.

“Jun-Seo, you have a guest,” The attendant from the front door announced, standing taught at the door. A blond-haired man entered, smirking with a hint of humor. Yoongi stared at his dazzling smile and kind eyes.

“You made it!” Jun-Seo stood to engulf the man in a hug, lips pressing aggressively to his lips. “I thought you said you were busy.”

“I got away,” The blond responded.

“It’s lovely to see you,” Mrs. Lee stood to embrace the man, followed by Kwan-Min. Yoongi watched carefully as Dae-Seong and Mr. Lee scowled, arms crossed, brows set. They didn’t have to speak their distaste for Jun-Seo’s apparent partner, it was written in their body language.

“It’s lovely to see you too,” He said. His eyes didn’t glance at the elder males but landed squarely on Yoongi and Euna.

“Lee Euna, is that how you greet me?” He questioned, a hand resting on his hip, hair lightly falling in his eyes.

“I’m so happy to see you!” She bounded off the settee towards him, arms around his neck, holding him close. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the big trip!”

Yoongi stared, dumbfounded, and blinked quickly, trying to understand the rapid change in her demeanor. Gone were the tears, the anger, the hate that was coursing through her body. It was replaced with care? Genuine excitement? What the hell is the big trip?

“I had to get in one more family dinner before I’m gone for the month,” The blond smiled warmly at Euna, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Yoongi. “Is that?”

“Oh! This is my boyfriend, Park Yoongi. Yoongi, meet Jun-Seo’s partner, Cho Jimin,” Euna said. The two men exchanged a handshake before sitting down next to their respective partners.

“How long have you and Jun-Seo been together?” Yoongi inquired.

“Hm, a year?” Jun-Seo replied, a hand resting gently on Jimin’s thigh.

“Did you meet at work or-

“Twenty questions with the twinks! Line em up, it’s time to play!” Dae-Seong yelled, earning a chuckle from his father. “First question, who tops and who bottoms? Follow up, is Jun-Seo as weak of a top as he-

“Dinner is ready,” The head of house said, stepping into the room just in time. Rolling his eyes, Dae-Seong stood.

“You’re gonna need your strength,” He winked at Jimin before brushing past them and heading for the dining room. Yoongi followed obediently and cautiously, taking his time putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the Lee’s. Pausing every so often, he carefully trailed a finger over a surface, leaving a singular mic, completely invisible, behind.

The dining room was stunning, taken out of the palace of Versailles with a Korean twist, the marble floors and ornate chandeliers were out of this world. Flowers blooming in ancient vases, artwork that looked to be that of Picasso and An Kyŏn, Monet and Manet, lining the walls like the Louvre. There wasn’t anything the Lee’s money couldn’t buy, even 15th century originals were bound to become fodder in their quest for prestige.

Draped across the table, a gold runner, glittering with what could only be described as actual gold flakes. Waterford Crystal glasses, and hand painted china rested delicately against the gold, the white shining brilliantly under the lights of the chandelier. Awaiting the guests, an endless array of traditional Korean food: Jjajangmyeon, Bulgogi, Samgyetang, Kalguksu, Galbi, Dubu Kimchi, Kimchi Fried Rice, with bowls of Hobakjuk as everyone’s appetizers, and Gyeranjjim waiting on a refined plate to be consumed with each passing spice.

Yoongi’s eyes were wide, his lungs breathing rapidly to take in the scents of home, of familiarity. How peculiar to be eating the cuisine of his ancestors, of his blood, in a room with people who would willing spill each other’s.

“Yoongi, sit next to Dae-Seong.” Mr. Lee instructed.

Excellent, Namjoon muttered in his ear.

“Dae-Seong, I hear that you’re making quite a splash as the Chairman,” Yoongi voiced.

“Only bottom feeders eat my ass, Yoongi. For that you need to see Jun-Seo, appointment only,” Dae-Seong rolled his eyes.

“Please, do not speak of your brother’s depravity at dinner. Save it for dessert,” Mr. Lee scolded, eyes hard on Dae-Seong.

“When are we going to discuss Kwan-Min’s latest triste?” Jun-Seo inquired.

“Now seems like the perfect opportunity,” Mr. Lee answered. “Dae-Seong?”

In some sort of twisted ritual, Dae-Seong cracked his knuckles, then his neck, swirled a sip of whiskey between his lips and leaned in. Batting his eyes delicately at Kwan, he bared his teeth. Yoongi restrained from asking “you getting this?” to his team, because they were in fact, watching with bated breath.

“The category is, colossal fuck ups. The reining champ, for the first time in, Euna, how old are you? Never mind, age has no number when you’re a twat. Kwan-Min, for a million dollars, explain how you found yourself cunt up with a political fundraiser? I’m sorry, a Republican political fundraiser?”

Mrs. Lee gasped, her soup spoon dropping aggressively into her bowl, rattling the china. Euna didn’t look up, but quietly shoveled soup into her mouth, feigning ignorance.

“Kwan-Min, how could you?” Mrs. Lee demanded.

“If the rumors are true, and we’ll need Jun to confirm, Mr. Brady, I believe?” Dae-Seong inhales, eyes never leaving Kwan’s, voice even, “He’s particularly gifted in a few areas, and very well endowed and what was that other word? Oh yes, generous.”

“Quite a generous tongue on that one,” Jun responded, shame flickering past his eyes in a brief moment before his resolve solidified.

“How could you?” Mrs. Lee repeats again. “You are the second eldest of this family, the face of our philanthropy, and you are consorting with a known republican? Not to mention a man so cruel he, he,

“He thinks Dae-Seong is weak,” Euna spoke. Her wavering voice echoed over the table, everyone’s eyes turning to her. “I mean, that’s what you’re doing, right Kwan? Find someone so repugnant that Dae is outraged, spurring on another break down in hopes he’ll OD and you’ll what, become chairwoman of the board?”

“Fuck you for insinuating I make my decisions based on Dae. Do you live and breathe at his request?” Kwan spat, the heat from the food and the fight rising in her cheeks.

“No,” Euna was incredulous, how could Kwan assume that?

Through gritted teeth she responded, “Neither do I.”

“For two million, Mr. Chairman,” Jun motioned toward Dae, “explain to us how you could be fucking a member of the opposing party, who has tried to ruin this family numerous times? Is the dick that great?” Jun-Seo pressed.

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t fucked him, fag,” Dae laughed. “You two are the biggest whores in the game.”

“That’s not true,”

“The fact that you’re Eskimo siblings, not once, not twice, but have shared more than three sexual partners is revolting. You’re fucking freaks, sodomizing the legacy of this family for some log cabin taint who can’t even be bothered to pay the child support for the kids he knows about.”

“How do you know so many categories of gay men?” Euna asked, eyes narrowing at Dae-Seong, “You been experimenting?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on you and your choices, Euna,” Dae rolled his eyes then glanced at Jun-Seo, who was sneering at him.

“What could you possibly say that you haven’t before?” Euna cackled, a sound so foreign Yoongi can’t help but feel his eyes bug out.

“Whoa,” Mr. Handsome says in his ear.

“Oh shit,” RM responds.

“You’re not even worth discussing,” Kwan-Min stepped in, and swinging the last of her cocktail back, she turned to Dae-Seong. “I’m more interested in your affinity for homosexual stereotypes. Tell me, when you’re alone in your house, your wife sleeping in a separate apartment, cities away, is that what you’re watching? Is that what gets you off? Picturing a willing gaping hole, just waiting to be ruined? Or no, I’m sorry, but Jun, don’t you think he’d be-

“A power bottom? Absolutely, he spends his nights ogling over submissive bears, trying to find one big enough to fill him, scrolling through chatrooms under, what was his username?” Jun-Seo doesn’t look at Kwan, he knows she understands what is about to transpire.

“Beary-willing007,” They recite together.

J-Hope guffaws in Suga’s ear, followed by a loud “oh shit!”

“I can’t imagine how it would look if your little, what did you call it?” Kwan asked.

“The twink or the fag?” Jun-Seo repeated Dae’s words so seamlessly, so effortlessly, to a blind eye it would’ve been hard to tell that Jun wasn’t Dae’s twin.

“Both, if your nefarious activities and browser history was discovered, or dare a say, leaked?” Kwan raised an eyebrow.

“You think you scare me?” Dae-Seong asked. “Summer, 2012, what happened to you?”

“Why would you bring that up?” Kwan’s glare faltered, a subtle shift in her brow, the sneer dipping before returning at full capacity.

“We need to know what happened summer 12,” RM stated, voice low as he jotted down the date.

“You want to throw dirty laundry out into the open, might as well air yours,”

“Fuck you,”

“I didn’t start this,”

“Yes you did,”

“Jun-Seo, care to tell us what happened to you winter, 2014?”

“No,”

“I thought so,” Dae pointed his knife at each of them, “Before you go accusing me of being a fucking homo, check that I don’t have your history sealed and filed.”

“Did you get that?” RM asked.

“Yeah, got it,” J-Hope responded.

“And Euna,” Dae turned his attention to his youngest sibling, who sat quietly eating her food. “Don’t ever bring a bottom feeder home again, unless he’s going to eat my ass, you hear me? Or I will do to you what was done to Kwan-pussy-ass-Min.”

“Fuck you Dae,” Euna spewed.

“Excuse me?” He yelled, standing to his full height.

“I said, fuck you,” Euna repeated with a little more gumption.

“Oh Euna, little Euna, too smart for everyone, too polite and meek to ever be taken seriously, to fucking boring and oblivious to know that her boyfriend’s only date her for access or career status, so stupid that she can’t recognize that the only reason she’s getting the company is that she’s so incompetent, no one will believe her when –

“Dae-Seong!” Mr. Lee yelled.

“Don’t bring a fucking knife to a gun fight, Euna, I will end you.” He seethed.

“What is your problem with Yoongi? He’s the first man I bring home and you-

“What do you not understand about our family? What do you not understand about the caliber of person we need to be with in order to-

“What, watch porn, order sex workers and pray the gay away?” Euna yelled.

“Watch your tone,” Mr. Valentine said.

“You’re acting like you don’t have secrets, like your marriage is pure and good, it’s not Dae. I don’t blame her for leaving you, anyone with a modicum of sense would see that you are nothing more than a toxic, manipulative, alcoholic coke head, who only has his job because daddy loves him the most.”

“You think your relationship with Yoongi is going to be any different?” Jun-Seo spoke up, deflecting from the rising anger in Dae. “What makes you so special?”

“First, I love him,” Euna responded, earning a scoff and eyeroll from every member of the Lee family. “Second, if he makes it out alive from this dinner with you assholes, then he truly is the most resilient person in the world. Finally,”

“Thank fuck,” Jun-Seo exclaimed.

“Finally, he was raised to be kind and respectful, unlike the four of us,” Euna concluded with a haughty exhale and a glare at her mother.

“Wait – are you sure that’s not just Seokjin in a new suit?” Dae-Seong cackled, nodding at their father who also laughed.

“I hate this family,” Euna rose and tossed her napkin on the floor, a dramatic flair that sent her brothers and father into a fit of laughter.

“You act like you aren’t the ingrown hair on the taint of this family, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I would love to extract you,” Dae said.

His words hung in the air as Euna walked out of the living room, Yoongi on her tail.

Catching up to her, Yoongi reached for her hand, which she hastily pulled away.

“Euna,” His voice was measured.

“Can we please just go?” She whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

“Yeah, can I just run to the bathroom quick? Grab the coats and I’ll meet you outside,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before following one of the workers to the nearest bathroom. Hoping to shake the worker, Yoongi deftly exited the bathroom before wandering down the hall. He followed the sound of voices and stopped short of what he assumed was Mr. Lee’s office.

Mr. Lee stood next to Dae-Seong, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand. “Did you read the brief on UAE?”

“Yes,” Dae-Seong answered.

“I want your recommendations tomorrow by 9AM,” Mr. Lee instructed, “None of that pussy shit you drew up for Spain, either.”

“Pussy shit in Spain is child’s play in the Emirates. I’ll bring something, nuclear,”

“Don’t jerk me around like you do with your pathetic excuse for a cock, Dae. I do not want to have to fire you and replace you with Jun-Seo,” Mr. Lee slammed his glass down before retreating through a door Yoongi hadn’t seen when he’d glanced in.

“I’m sorry father, I will have the materials ready,” Dae’s voice was pathetic, deflated in the wake of his father’s anger. He hated being belittled and demeaned, hated the hurt his father hurled at him, the constant need for him to be better than everyone else. He hated how easily it came to Euna, how she could understand the numbers and draw connections within seconds of being presented with the problem. He hated Euna’s prowess, how businessmen and women flocked to her, a cello prodigy, ballet star in training, perfect grades, whored out to different branches so she could learn the business. Every fuck up Dae-Seong had made resulted in Euna’s success, and their father and mother, though more covertly, had egged his jealousy on.

Yoongi placed a mic on the inside of the door before slipping back into the hallway and out of the Lee estate, to Euna’s embrace.

“Your place or mine?” He asked as he sat in the driver’s seat of his car.

“Anywhere but here,” She responded, eyes blinking down tears as Yoongi drove.

Next: Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

6 notes · View notes